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gaysindistress · 5 months

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Limits of a Fae Heart - six

Pairings: Azriel x Reader

Summary: With war looming over their heads, the Inner Circle is desperate for a solution. The one they found comes in the form of a resurrected female who’s fated to not only their Shadowsinger but once to their enemy as well.

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: cursing, blood, gore, fighting and war canon level violence, detailed emotional description of torture. Reader is tortured but the description is more focused on her emotional state rather than the physical actions. The king makes an appearance so that’s a whole warning in itself.

One | two | three | four | five

A/n: I did things a little differently for the final part and the last half of this is in Azriel’s pov. It’s marked with his name as the heading so it’s clear when it switches!

taglist: @isa1b2h3 @dr4g0ngirl @sidthedollface2 @p4ndawrites

Time stands still.

The minutes cease to pass and the hours come to a halt.

The light of day fails to pass through the barred windows, blanketing this cell in darkness.

The places shadows may have danced are nothing but voids of that same darkness.

Night and day bleed together with no marker of the passage of time that occurs.

Food comes at irregular times to prevent me from gaining a sense of time.

Time stands still after what feels like a millennia of isolation and solitude.

The King made his presence within hours of Azriel and I drifting to sleep. He called for me from the war camp and beckoned me to him as he waited for me with a cruel smile. Taunting words and terrifying threats were thrown at me but none shook me to my corner than the sight of seven Ravens converging upon the tent where Azriel slept. Whatever magic the king had used to hide himself from us extended to his warriors, rendering Azriel defenseless as he slept completely unaware of the dangers that lurked around him. The bond begged me to wake him, warn him at all but I pushed it down and forced it to be silent as I faced the king. Any attempt to wake my sleeping mate would ultimately lead to his brutal torture and death.

The king glowered at me as he watched me try to scramble a plan together but seemingly to no avail. The shadows that had bound me the night before followed me and anxiously waited for me to give them a command in the treeline behind me. As the king told me of his plans to take Prythian by siege, I sent the shadows away and told them to hide until we left. They cried and writhed from their place in the trees but didn’t rush towards me.

“Tell him that everything will be okay. Tell him to not worry about me. Tell him everything you hear now and take him back to Velaris. Make sure that Rhysand gets the information he needs and keep Azriel safe. Do not let him come for me; matter what he does or says, do not let him come for me,” I’d whispered to the distressed creatures and they listened. Their cries of agony and anguish could be heard for miles but they listened to me and did not find their singer until the King took me back to Hybern.

Now it is here in Hybern that I’m facing the consequences of my actions; the effects of allowing myself to feel anything other than suffering. With my arms held up by chains and my wings outstretched in a painful way, having been bolted to the ceiling above, I'm forced to kneel on the unforgiving stone floor of my cell. Whatever blood that coursed through my veins seems to become solid as it has stopped leaking from my wounds. My breathing is so swallow and soft that anyone passing by would assume that my body was left up as a warning to all other prisoners.

However those who know better, those who know what other signs of life to watch for, don’t dare to come any closer to me, the beast of his own making.

A male appears at the entrance of the cell with a disgusted look on her pale features. Moving as he is one with the air, he flicks his wrist and the gates unlock before he steps into the cell. The smell makes him wrinkle his nose and hold his head higher to block out any stench. As if you escape the stench of death and blood in a place like this.

I'm at the center of the room, unmoving but chuckle lightly when I sense that he’s near.

“Come to torture me some more?” I ask.

The King of Hybern sneers at me for speaking to him and with another flick of his wrist, I groan out in pain. My body tenses from the pain that was inflicted upon it but aside from the low groan, I make no other indication that his actions harmed me.

“I need answers.”

“Ask and I’ll decide if I’m feeling generous today.”

He stalks around me, ducking under my massive wings, dragging a sharp blade nail down the sensitive and aching muscles. Once again I can’t react even though we both know that the pain threatens to take my consciousness.

“That little Shadowsinger has ruined you,” he sneers again as he finishes his predatory circles and kneels down to get a better look at my face. “He’s made you think that you have any value outside of being my little spy.”

I lift my head only enough to lock eyes with him, my irises flickering with rebellion and hatred as I speak, “I’m not your spy anymore. I haven’t been for years now otherwise you wouldn’t be pulling risky moves trying to one up a pompous High Lord and his band of friends.”

The king cuts me off with a dagger through one of my wings but I only howl out in laughter, throwing my head back to fully reveal my face to the guards at the entrance. They shrink back when they see my face covered in dirt and caked in blood. My features are severe and sharp thanks to the thick layer of filth but achingly beautiful nonetheless. Arched brows raise at the King’s frustration and a laugh ghosts on my lips. My flaming eyes never leave his as I smirk at the attempt to hurt me and gather information.

“Do not speak to me like I’m some foul beast.”

My voice is harsh but soft, calm but chaotic, dark but light as I speak, “The only foul thing that I know of is you, the Failed King of Hybern. Or do you simply prefer your highness now? I’m not privy to the gossip of the world anymore.”

The King pulls a face of coldness and stone the moment I start speaking again but it falters at the last name that I call him. His eyes flicker with disgust as he poses his own question, “Who are you to demean and belittle me for my actions? Have you forgotten that you were…”

A smirk widens across my face as I cut him off, “There will come a day when all those you have come to trust will turn on you and you will be forced to become the male you truly are. And when that day comes, I will happily watch you burn the world you’ve come to love.”

Death hadn’t been a sweet release from the torment I lived through under the King’s violent rule nor in the arms of a male I thought I loved more than myself. Instead I spent years in limbo on my island, never fully dying but never fully living. The only reprieve I’ve found in it all is the fact that I can’t feel the bond to the king anymore. There is nothing where that jagged line used to be and it’s been silent in my head where he used to torment me day in and day out.

However it’s rather short lived.

Now as I’ve been brought back, life is proving to be just as painful as before. What little peace and joy I’d thought I’d found was destroyed when the king took me. I don’t know how long it’s been but I’ve felt nothing but my own suffering and Azriel’s through the bond. Every second of every day I feel his despair as he searches for me, tugging at our thread in attempts to reach me. I feel his disappointment and heartbreak when I don’t respond, when I can’t respond. Not a moment goes by in this cell where I don’t feel every single step he takes towards a complete downward spiral.

A downward spiral of my own is fast approaching as I awake to the sounds of battle surrounding me. Fallen warriors scream from their lethal wounds while monsters created by dark magic laugh as they devour all around them. A female’s earth shattering scream follows the sound of bones cracking. I snap my head to the side where I see Nesta holding a broken Cassian while the King looms over them. He turns to look where the Ravens deposited me in a heap of torn flesh and weeping wounds.

“Come,” he beckons to me and I feel the sharp teeth of his naga hounds sink into my wings and drag me towards him.

Nesta’s eyes are wide with panic as she looks between Cassian and me but she hardens her face and stares at the king.

The hounds halt with a jarring tear to my wings and I let out a shaky cry. One comes to stand before me, holding eye contact with me as it just stands there. I have half a mind to tug on my bun but something tells me that it wouldn’t work. The hound lets its jaw drop as a deathlike scream rips from it and through the still tense air around us.

The call of inevitable death.

This is the long awaited end that I thought would never come and I can’t help but welcome it.

I’m tired.

So tired.

There is only so much of myself I could’ve given and I reached my limit the day that the king left me on that island. I reached that limit years ago and now I welcome the release even if by the jaws of a naganound. What a sweet release it would be to allow myself this one peace, a peace that no one can take from me now.

The hound shutters while several more start to circle me. I can feel their eyes boring into me, begging their master to give them the command so they can attack finally. They grunt and growl at me. Their unspoken message is the same as the one that sings from my heart:

Give in. Give up. Let it take you. Give in. Give up. Let it take you. Give in. Give up. Let it take you.

I don’t see the king give the command until they descend upon me like starving wolves who haven’t eaten a good meal in months.

I barely feel their teeth or their claws as they rip and tear at my body. Like true servants of the king, they attack my wings first and shred at the membranous limbs. My vision becomes blurry as tears fill my eyes. Agonizing pain radiates from my back and threatens to crush me but I don’t move. My pulse races even though I tell it to calm down. It’s half panicked, half confused but knowing all the same. I can’t stop this.

Nesta and Cassian can’t help either. Azriel…

Sweet sweet Azriel.

He is nowhere to be seen and I thank whatever gods and goddess that are listening that he isn’t here.

My ears fill with the sounds of tearing flesh and the squelch of blood while an endless sleep begs for me to close my eyes. My head feels light, everything around me starting to spin and darken. A feeling of nausea creeps up as the coppery smell of my blood invades my nose.

I let them tear my wings from my body no matter how much pain it brings me. I had loved them, cared for them, and protected them my entire life. They’ve been my prized possession for so long, a symbol of the strength that I’ve created and wielded. A symbol of my strength and mine alone. I hated them at first because of who wanted to take advantage of them but as I learned to exist with them, I learned to carry them with pride. I never forgot that it was my wings that landed me in the clutches of the king but there is a dignity in creating good out of evil and I had done that with them. I had created good with these wings no matter how evil others wanted them to be.

A weight is dropped from my back and I hear two thuds in the mud around me. The nagahounds stop their assault on me once my wings hit the ground and move their attention to them. Every breath I take, albeit ragged and shallow, sends waves of throbbing pain through my back and chest. It’s exhausting and I feel truly sick as I watch them play with my wings like they’re toys. Sweat is pouring from my forehead, my hands are clammy and trembling and my teeth are gritted. For a second I consider listening to my body which is telling me to let go, to give up and fall in the arms of that endless sleep. I take a deep breath, then another and then another. It becomes harder and harder to swallow the pain, to ignore the sensations and the voices soothing me to sleep.

So I stop fighting it and allow it to take me.

A state of calm returns to my mind and a warmth washes over me. I drop my head into the mud and it threatens to drown me but my inner peace won’t let me care. With hooded eyes, I stare as the nagahounds continue to tear my wings apart.

I feel nothing.

After what seems like forever, I hear the muffled sounds of those deathlike screams and someone calling my name. The voice calling my name begs for me to keep my eyes open and stay with them.

It’s useless to call me back from the brink of death but this voice does it nonetheless. Strong arms lift me and I’m cradled against an equally strong and blazing warm chest. A gentle wave of cedar and chilled mist scent washes over me as I let my heavy head rest between their jaw and shoulder. Whispered gilded words of reassurance take the place of the sounds of my wing’s destruction. My eyes flutter closed as I let myself find another peace in the embrace of these familiar arms. I barely feel us winnow from the battlefield before everything fades to black.

Azriel

What the fuck did that bastard do?

What could have possessed him to do this to her? To my mate?

Her rapidly cooling forehead against my neck feels like a blade slicing through my skin and it takes everything in me to not winnow back to the battlefield and slaughter the king.

Her breathing is slow, too slow and her pulse is so weak. Fear grips my insides as I winnow us into the Town House. I almost crumble to my knees when I’m wrapped in the familiar scent of my home and it gently whispers to me “you’re safe. Rest easy now.”

“Madja!” I shout into the air, hoping that the healer remained here. Madja peaks her head out of the sitting room and curses under her breath before disappearing back into the sitting room.

“Azriel,” she calls appears at the doorway, waving me in. As soon as I enter the room, she orders me to set y/n face down on one of the couches and hands me a pair of scissors to cut away the rest of her shirt. The scissors tremble in my hand as I gingerly cut at the bloody fabric and expose the mess of torn flesh and muscle. The healer glances at my shaking hands and puts hers on them, stopping them for a moment. Gentle brown eyes watch my chest rise and fall rapidly and her brows furrow even more.

“If this is too much, I can call someone else,” she tells me in her ever soothing tone.

I shake my head, strands of hair falling into my and add to the wild look I no doubt have about me. She doesn’t seem to want me there anymore but she permits me to stay and takes the scissors.

“Fetch me a basin with fresh water and a cloth please.”

She’s giving me a task so I don’t become frozen in shock. It fails the moment my hands are emptied. With nothing to ground me to this reality, all I can do is stand there and stare at y/n’s back where her wings once stood tall and proud. Her usual comforting cent is fading around us. Her aura is cooling. Her breathing is even slower. Her pulse is too weak for me to hear.

It’s all fading.

She is fading.

Madja gives the task to the town house instead and instructs me to sit. A chair appears behind me and with a flick of her wrist, she urges me to sit. I do. Fall more like it though.

I’d been cutting down several Ravens when I felt her side of the bond awaken again. The wall that had been separating us for weeks now came crumbling down and I was hit with every ounce of emotion that had been kept from me. Being hit with weeks worth of her suffering and yearning to be home nearly dropped me to my knees. I’d sent my shadows out to find her and within moments, I was on my knees in front of her with tears in my eyes.

Even alone Madja makes quick work of cleaning and bandaging the base of her torn wings. Once satisfied with her work, she moves on to the smaller but no less significant claw and teeth marks. My shadows nuzzle against me, making soft whining noise and distracting me from the wreckage of flesh before me. I drop my forearms to my thighs and let the shadows wrap themselves around me. Their embrace is the closest to a hug they can give me but I’ll take it.

“Is she alive?” I find myself asking before I realize it.

Madja looks at me with raised brows, “You can hear her heartbeat can’t you?”

I barely spare her a glance from beneath my lashes.

Thump thump.

I can hear it. It’s faint but I can hear it.

“Azriel,” Madja starts, “she’s lost a lot of blood. Her wings were quite literally torn from her body, there’s no telling the true extent of her injuries just yet.”

I lift my head with tears pricking my eyes and her tone softens. “But she’s alive. She will have a lengthy recovery ahead of her but she’s alive and most importantly she has you to thank for that.”

My jaw tightens and I bring a hand to rub at the taunt muscles. Flicks of blood paint the tan skin of my hand but I ignore them.

“I didn’t do anything. I let her be taken and held prisoner for weeks.”

Madja sighs and stills for a moment. She simply stares down at the unconscious Fae on the couch. “There was nothing you could’ve done to prevent it and you know that. Do not commend yourself for things that you had no control over.”

A small gasp muffled by couch cushions draws all of our attention as she dips down to look at y/n’s face.

“Easy,” Madja mutters to her as she places a soft hand on the back of her head, “don’t try to move or you’ll hurt yourself more. You’re in Velaris and safe now.”

My shadows skitter around me and beg to go to my mate. I don’t let them and wait for Madja’s signal. She asks her if she would like to go to her room and there’s a weak but clear reply.

“Where is Azriel?”

Madja’s brown eyes flicker to me and she nods so I stand and walk on unsure legs to kneel before y/n. Even through the dirt and blood, this female is beautiful beyond compare and she’s looking at me like I’ve hung the moon and stars just for her.

“Azriel,” she whispers as tears start to fall and tentatively reaches a hand out to touch my face. It causes her a great deal of pain and she winces before dropping it and settling on grabbing my hand instead.

“I’m sorry. I'm so sorry,” I find myself repeating over and over again as I brush back her hair and squeeze her hand so tightly it might break.

She smiles at me in a way that completes me but also destroys me. I let all of this happen to her and yet she’s still happy to see me. “It’s not your fault,” she tells me. “You couldn’t have stopped me and I didn’t want you to.”

I want to ask her how it all happened, how did the king manage to take her that morning at the war camp but I can’t find the words. None of it seems to matter now that she’s here and he’s gone.

“Is he..is he dead?” She asks in that small, broken voice.

I nod and the sobs finally break free from her. Against my better judgment as well as Madja’s, I help her to sit up and pull her into my arms, careful to not touch her wounds. I guide her into my chest with a hand in her hair and another around her waist, gripping her thigh as she clings to me and sobs. Relief washes over me both my own and through the bond. My cheek comes to rest on her head as she hides her face in between my collar and jaw.

I’ve come to realize that in all of my 500 years, I’ve never known comfort and safety like I do now. Quite frankly I don’t know much at all but none of that matters when my mate, my sweet girl, my y/n is in my arms.

#limits of a fae heart az x reader #az imagine #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel imagine #azriel acotar #az x reader #a court of thorns and roses

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st4rryhyuck · 1 year

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Eyes On Me

Paring 〉Pervy! Stalker! ex haechan x Fem reader

Warnings 〉Stalking, breaking and entering, dry humping, switch haechan (mostly sub), hyuck Pervy! panty thief, biting, spitting, choking!, hyucks obsessed with you tits…, fearful situations, pet names (doll, baby)

Genre 〉Smut and Angst

Summary 〉After a sudden breakup with your boyfriend, he uninvitingly decides to come over or rather break into your apartment to win you back.

⭐︎

Don’t like don’t read!

You stare at your phone in agony. Should you text him back? An ongoing argument with yourself plays out as you contemplate replying to your ex.

Haechan was a great boyfriend to you but for some reason, you just felt like the love wasn’t there after a while. He was so busy with work you rarely ever saw or even spoke to each other so when you decided to break it off, you were surprised at his reaction.

You didn’t believe he cared for you, rarely speaking to you on the phone due to his schedule you thought if he cared he’d try a little harder.

But after he came back from tour you decided it’s time to end things officially. He took it better than expected, he said he understood but was hoping you could work it out. You knew he had a comeback soon, there would be no time to even work it out so you said you both could stay friends.

Ever since then, he’s been texting you, saying friends hang out and friends should talk more and you felt guilty for some reason.

After work you go straight home, walking in and not bothering to turn on the lights as you walk straight towards your bedroom. The whole apartment is silent as you kick off your shoes and unzip your jeans.

Just as you were about to pull your shirt over your head you hear the floor creak. Being an over-paranoid person you look around quickly, seeing nothing you decide to turn on the light in your room.

Again nothing, the room empty and you start to feel stupid for thinking someone was there. Throwing off your shirt you rummage through your clothes to find a comfy hoodie.

Your body jerks back as you feel a hand wrap around your mouth, your body being pinned onto someone’s chest as you kick and scratch at their arms. “Why have you been ignoring me?”

Your body relaxes at the sound of haechans voice. He lets go of your mouth and you push him off “HYUCK WHAT THE FUCK” you yell shaking from adrenaline.

“You weren’t answering my calls doll, not nice to do” he pouts as he sits back on your bed. “So you couldn’t just come and knock on my door? How the fuck did you even get in here?”

You pick a shirt and throw it on quickly. “Are you going to answer my question? Why haven’t you been answering me? I see you on your phone all day” he scoffs.

“And how the hell would you know? It isn’t my duty to answer you. I have a life hyuck. Now that I’ve answered your question how the hell did you get in here” you hiss.

Haechan smiles at your worried face, you were a little scared but he knew you like getting scared which explained your thighs slightly squeezing together when he spreads his legs slightly.

“I mean you leave a key inside the flower pot, how hard do you think it is?” He chuckles. “Surprised you didn’t notice a few missing panties babe, thought you would’ve questioned it”

Did he steal your panties? He’s broken into your home more than once? Dozens of questions flood you as he smiles at you coyly. “So this isn’t your first time breaking into my house huh?”

He shakes his head with a sigh, staring at you intently. “Also like the new toy you got doll, been missing me that much?” He pouts as he looks over at your bedside table where your vibrator was tucked away.

“What the hell hyuck. Not only have you been BREAKING INTO MY HOME but also looking through my shit?”

What did you get yourself into? Haechan is the stalker type? The breaking and entering type?

“I mean come on you really thought I’d let you be babe? You should know better” he coos. Haechan stands up, his steps slow and calculated as he makes his way to you “let’s talk ok? Fix this up and go back to normal?” He coos.

His voice makes you shiver. You just wanted to jump on him and fuck him senseless. You thought he was sick for sneaking into your house to steal your panties like a pervert but instead of being scared of this, it turned you on. What did that make you?

“You listening?”

You snap out of your thoughts, eyes snapping back to him as he leans onto the drawer next to you with his arms crossed.

“what is there to fix?”

“I know I was wrong for not putting in much effort due to my schedule” he hums as he palms your cheek to look up at him.

“I’m a piece of shit for that I know it. If you’ll give me another chance I swear I’ll be here more, I would’ve done the same thing you did if it was the other way around” he nods. You sit on your bed and look up at him.

You missed him so much. You never felt so safe with anyone other than him. “What do you want me to do with that confession?” You chuckle.

“Take it into consideration, I promise It won’t happen again doll. I don’t want you to leave me”

You sit staring down at your feet and thinking to yourself. You remembered the times he was there, the laughs, smiles, kisses, and not to mention the amazing sex.

You smile up at him, “it’s been considered”.

“And that means?”

“You’ve been given ONE LAST CHANCE. ONE!” You sarcastically point your finger to him.

He smiles, jumping into your bed and hugging you tightly as he kisses you eagerly. His soft puffy lips sloppily cover yours in his saliva as he slips his tongue inside your mouth.

You whine on his tongue as you feel his hand wrap around your neck. He squeezes the sides of your neck, creating a V shape with his hands as his palm rests on your neck.

It always turned you on how he knew how to choke you properly. Your eyes connect with his as he squeezes tighter, smiling down at you as he watches your mouth fall open as you gasp.

He takes his chance and spits in your mouth, your eyes rolling back as he removes his hand from your neck and rubs your bottom lip with his finger “swallow”

You do as he says, swallowing his saliva with a smile on your face. “Let me apologize for all the time I took for granted yeah? I’ll never make you feel like that ever again doll, Ever.”

You can hear the sincerity in his words, his tone softening as he kisses you “let me make it up to you?”

“Yea- ok”

He smiles at how quick you were to make a mess of yourself whenever he was hovering over you. “Good”

He pulls the thin material you call a shirt off hastily, throwing it behind him as he groans at the sight in front of him.

He pauses for a few seconds, staring at your plump tits that spilled out of your flimsy bra. He lets out an embarrassingly desperate whine as he runs his hands over your tits, needing them softly as he takes in the warmth of your soft flesh.

His head drops onto your chest, biting down on your soft skin “I’m so sorry for not showing you how much I love you baby, I really am. Never will make that mistake again” he mumbles onto your chest.

His fingers trail up your back, cuffing your bra strap and unclipping your bra in one swift movement. He throws your bra aside and moves back down to your chest.

Haechans had always been obsessed with your tits, the way they moved, felt, and bruised up so easily always made his dick hard. He felt pathetic thinking about it.

He knows he could get off by just sucking and biting on your tits, he always thought about it when he had your panties wrapped around his cock as he fucked himself into them in his room.

You can see how much he’s missed you, his soft whines hitting your chest as he softly rocked onto your clothed pussy.

He didn’t even bother looking up at you as he buried himself between your tits, he was so lost inside his thoughts he didn’t realize you were looking down at him with a satisfied smile on your face.

You tangle your fingers into his hair, massaging softly as he lets out a loud whimper. His desperate whines and whimpers get louder as he felt his cock twitch against you.

His eyes snap open as he realizes he was about to cum. He looks up at you to see you're already looking down at him. He tries to change the position quickly, he’s never shown you this needy side.

“No baby keep going” you whine as you move him back up to you “fuck yourself onto me” you reassure.

He looks down at you with his eyes trying to figure out if you were fucking with him or meant it. Both of you teased each other to hell and back so he hoped you weren’t mocking him.

“You want it or not?”

He nods, not saying a word as he goes back to burying his face into your chest. “Love you so much” he shakily whines

“Love you too”

You can feel yourself getting wetter with each of his pretty noises, his hips rocking onto you faster as he plays with your nipple.

His teeth bite and pull back softly as he runs his tongue on your nipple. The embarrassment leaves him as he looks up at you and sees your eyes closed shut as you bite your bottom lip harshly.

His hips pick up speed as he sees the familiar furrow in your eyes brows. You try to keep your moans inside as he rocks onto your soaked panties “look so pretty” he whispers into your chest.

Your eyes shoot down to his, your eyes slightly watery from the limited amount of touch. His grip on your hips tightens as you sway onto him faster. The both of you dry humping through your clothes as your bodies press against each other.

You can feel how hard he was through his jeans, your pussy throbbing at the feeling of his imprint hitting your clit “haechan…” you whisper in a breathy moan.

Your eyes close softly as you feel your stomach curl into a ball of nerves. You feel your orgasm building as he bites down hard on your skin.

“love you love you” haechan whines, his hips jerk against you as his fingers dig into your hips. A loud moan leaves you as his thumb circles your skin, his heavy breaths making your body heat up as you shake under him.

His name spills out of your mouth as he continues to rock onto you slowly. He held himself back from coming until you came so when he felt your pussy clenching through your panties he finally let’s go.

His eyes watch the way your face contorted in pleasure as he let go of your nipple with a pop of his lips. His thick seed leaks through his boxers and onto his jeans as he pants your name out in the most whiney tone you’ve ever heard him moan.

He falls onto your side limply as he pants heavily. His eyes move to you within seconds, pulling you into his arms as he moves one of your legs up onto his lap.

You breathe into his chest, taking in his perfume and hint of sweat.

“that’s just the first apology of the night”

#haechan #haechan smut #kpop smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #smut #haechan nct #hyuck smut #nct 127 #nct haechan #hyuck #lee dong hyuck #hyuck scenarios #nct fanfic #nct 127 smut #nct imagines #haechan imagines #Pervy hyuck #fanfic

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fluloa · 1 year

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my headcanons for the sully family

JAKE:

- has an apron that says ‘kiss the chef’

- has thought about getting an ear piercing and would like to

- always itchy, like will be constantly scratching at a random part of his body during a casual conversation

- had a loner phase when he was in middle school

- doesn’t like fuzzy things, he hates the texture and the way it feels on his skin, gives him a bad type of goosebumps

- adhd. said what i said

- flexes his big dad muscles every chance he can get (good for him tbh)

- finds it so relaxing when neytiri plays with his hair

- is a big purrer, to the point where it’s embarassing and he HATES it but he can’t help it

- cries every single time he watches the start of finding nemo

- hates watching reality tv

NEYTIRI:

- loves watching reality tv

- bites off her toenails (sorry not sorry)

- really likes apple juice

- loves the song cover me in sunshine by pink, every time she plays it, lo’ak screams out in agony

- a sad beige baby mom

- makes weird faces when feeding babies and does the sound ‘nom nom nom’

- loves cats. jake got one for her for her birthday and he doesn’t think she’s ever seen her happier

- wine lover and proud (especially with these little shit of a kids)

- has a collection of perfumes and jewellery that she only touched like once or twice. poor girl just forgets about them bc of all the stress she’s holdin

- the type of mom to demand every kid’s room is clean when somebody is going to be over. lo’ak is always the one to say “they won’t even be coming into our room!”

- lo’ak gets a whooping for that

NETEYAM:

- asks jake for his old band t-shirts

- loves water parks and will say weeee when going down the slides

- lets tuk put makeup on his face. but that stopped after she used some cheap shop makeup on him and he got an allergic reaction from it

- sometimes he wears belt with his jeans and it is funny

- always forgets to knock before opening doors. once caught jake butt naked and has never been the same again

- his favourite color is purple but he says it’s blue so that people don’t make fun of him

- loves playing laser tag even though he sucks ass at it

- he’s a fan of marvel and he’s always first at the cinemas when a movie comes out

- likes to skateboard. surprisingly very good at it since he’s only used it like ten times since he got it for 12th birthday

- for some odd reason, he really likes helping neytiri out with grocery shopping? also a guilty pleasure to pick out some of his favorite snacks and being the perfect little son that he is, neytiri always says yes

- brushes his teeth DAY AND NIGHT without a skip

KIRI:

- definitely plays my singing monsters

- had a monster can collection phase (will not admit to it although)

- that being said, had an ‘indie kid’ phase and begged norm for a couple of unused cds so she could paint them

- listens to mitski and lana del ray and flexes it to people and attacks them if they say they don’t know who they are or they don’t like their music

- wants her septum pierced but by neytiri’s words, “i’d rather die.”

- does her own hair, hence why it’s so messily beautiful

- neytiri cuts her hair though, as much as she doesn’t like to admit it

- would really like a tattoo, but neytiri has said no obviously

- tried asking jake for the tattoo, but jake was terrified of neytiri’s expression so he said no

- then tried to do a stick and poke and it failed miserably (rejected from her skin a week later)

- weirdly insecure of her nose, sometimes she likes it, sometimes she doesn’t

- jumps on the trampoline with tuk until she’s passed out from exhaustion

- plant lover. like seriously has a dozen in her room and will panic if she hasn’t gotten the time to water them for a day

LO’AK:

- plays mortal kombat and has an addiction to it. will yell out fatality when putting neteyam in a headlock

- begs neytiri for waves (she always says no, thank god)

- has got led lights in his room that are stuck to the wall with shitty sticky tape. you can easily see it, too

- always facetiming tsiyera but half of the time she doesn’t answer

- the type to lick chip dust off of his fingers until the last speck is demolished

- SATURDAYS ARE FOR THE BOYS

- has a pet fish and secretly adores her, her name’s shelly and will go into deep detail if you ask about her

- favorite food is doritos and takis

- was a ‘all girls are the same’ type before he met tsiyera

- wears his worn ass jordans religiously

TUK:

- has a pink ipad

- makes her own fake youtube tutorials on said ipad. kiri sneakily watches them when she’s sleeping

- can do an impressive amount of tricks on the trampoline and each time she learns a new one she yells out, “DAD!!! DAD, DAD, DAD, COME WATCH THIS!!!! DAD!! DAD!! DAD!!!!”

- her heart broke when jake with a few drinks in his system decided to jump on the trampoline on a party night and ended up tearing a massive hole in the middle of it

- has a CRIPPLING obsession with slime and neytiri absolutely hates it. always searching up ‘how to make slime no borax no glue’ and always makes a mess of wherever she makes it

- SHE LOVES DISNEY and her favorite princess is moana

- begged neytiri to let her dye the ends of her hair purple. neytiri used one of those ten washes dyes in a box and didn’t bleach her hair before because “no way am i putting bleach in my daughter’s hair” when it didn’t work because tuk’s hair is literally pitch black, she cried

- she literally loves the low space buns hairstyle and will forever ask neytiri to do it for her. but will end up crying because of how hard neytiri pulls her hair (it’s not even that hard)

- has a huge collection of squishmallows (jake got her them all)

- doesn’t actually like chocolate but loves candy

- the type to bounce on neytiri and jake’s bed to wake them up

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i-write-sometimes-maybe · 1 month

Text

Broken- Natasha Romanoff X Reader

Synopsis: Nat was supposed to go on a simple mission, collect an infinity stone. Easy, right?

Word Count: 408

Warnings: Canonical Character Death (yes that’s a fucking warning), angst/no comfort, it does not get better, be prepared.

A/n: I’d like to think this one isn’t as bad as it might be but I also like to hurt my own feelings so maybe don’t trust me on this one lmao. Sorry guys, this part of a song was stuck in my head and I wanted to write something and this is the result. It’s kinda short but that’s kinda a good thing. Enjoy 😅

☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎

You are broken on the floor…

It happened all too soon.

10 seconds.

10 seconds was all she was supposed to be gone.

But now?

She'll be gone for eternity.

She was just supposed to get a stupid rock.

A stupid rock for the sake of the universe. And for what? What's the point? Your everything is gone. Just like that.

Clint came back silent, something was deeply haunting him. It was clear to everyone.

You could hear Bruce ask him something but you weren't listening to know what was said.

You didn't need to. You knew already.

In less time than what she was supposed to be gone, you lost all of yourself. A deep emptiness overtakes you, but not without its companions of dread and pain.

A silent 'no' came from your lips as you collapsed.

And you're crying, crying...

The word you wanted to say would've come from your lips if the sobs didn't steal the last breath from your lungs.

The pure agony it was, breathing...

You couldn't fathom it.

Everyone on the team surrounded you, taken aback by your sudden lack of composure.

You were known to be the most composed on the team. Never showing true, real emotions, not that you couldn't but rather you chose not to let them see.

The only one that got the privy of seeing the real you was gone.

You are broken on the floor...

Everything was entirely irrelevant now, nothing mattered anymore.

You couldn't care less about the mission at hand, it was fruitless now.

Your hands clawed at the suddenly claustrophobic uniform you were wearing, dying for it to be off.

Everyone stood dumbfounded at what to do. They knew there was nothing that could be said.

Only once you were able to take a breath in did you finally move, hunching over yourself as sound finally came from you.

Only it was the sound of your inconsolable, borderline anguished cries.

How to carry on...?

Only once Clint and Rocket tried to get you to sit up did you speak real words...

"NO! No! This wasn't supposed to happen!" Your palms hit Clint in the chest, with no effect due to you losing all of your energy. "We were supposed to have forever!"

You simply collapsed into him, not knowing what else there is for you to possibly do.

"She was my forever..."

Numbness overtook you.

You no longer wanted to live, after all, what was there to live for?

🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮

Taglist: @v3nusxsky @just-your-casual-nerd @pebbleswritessometimes @bigolgay @scream-queenlover @darkth1ngs @hxzxrdous @sgelessoanddoveykissing @lilfartbox1 @obsessedwjill

As always, leave a comment if you’d like to join my tag list 🥰

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stxrshxpxd · 9 months

Text

spring

part one

pairing: 90s professor hugh grant x reader

word count: 3k

warnings: student x teacher, smut

prompt: reader and mr. grant slowly recover from the horror that was the end of last semester, but they can’t seem to keep their hands off each other

requested by several people <3

February.

The first few weeks of the semester I had sat nearly all the way at the back for Mr. Grant’s classes, not said a word in discussions and felt partly relieved he hadn’t addressed me directly. The other part of me wallowed in deep sadness and agony at the fact that we hadn’t exchanged a single word in a month.

He stood at his desk like always in a pale grey button up and his arms crossed over his chest. He let his eyes scan the class and quickly panned over me, to which my heart jumped and I sank down a bit in my seat. I hated that I still had dreams about him every other night and still wanted his hands on me more than ever. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He had actually done everything right. Which made it all worse. There was nothing I could cling onto for a reason to hate him.

Class ended sooner than I had expected and I hurried to gather my things and head towards the door, but Professor Grant stopped me with a soft uttering of my name.

“Would you mind staying back for just a little while?”

Stiff and caught off guard, I nodded and we awkwardly watched the last few students exit.

“I know you knew the answer to the Oscar Wilde question,” he stated gently with a sympathetic look and his head tilted down slightly.

“Okay,” I shrugged stiffly and hugged my books closely to my chest.

“Okay,” he mimicked and sighed.

“Listen, I’m really sorry about what happened last semester. I should absolutely not have let that happen…” His arms were crossed again rather anxiously and his eyes visibly upset. “We have to find a way to work through this though. You’re an absolutely brilliant student, but I’m afraid if you don’t speak in class that’s going to affect your grade.”

I blinked back at him and my gaze rested on his wide shoulders momentarily.

“I understand that.”

March.

It was Thursday and the sun had gone down nearly five hours earlier. I had been sitting in my dorm since the end of the school day with my nose shoved in one book or another, and I felt like I was going insane.

Already after a few minutes’ walk I was feeling better. However, my steps slowed as I wandered past a crowded pub to my left, letting my eyes sorrowfully scan all the little groups of people bathing in the warm light inside, talking and laughing. Sometimes I would get little spurts of confidence and I’d tell myself I could stomp inside a pub alone and get a drink if I wanted. Who the hell would care? But then I never did.

Just as I went to carry on down the street I spotted Professor Grant at the bar, also alone. In shock I watched his long fingers walk along the edge of his pint as he stared down into the half finished beer, wavy locks hanging around his glasses. I guess now I wouldn’t be alone if I were to go in.

“Hey,” I said carefully as I reached him by the bar. He didn’t hear me, so I repeated it louder and made him stare up at me.

“Y/N,” Mr. Grant exhaled and swallowed, almost nervously. His gaze traveled all the way down and up my body as I cautiously sat on the stool beside him.

“What are you doing h-“

“Can I get anything for you, love?” the loud barman interrupted his question with a wide smile beaming at me. I turned him down instantly, saying I was okay for now, anxious to make him go away.

“I’m- I was just on a walk.” I shrugged and looked around the stacked shelves behind the bar. “I’ve been studying all night, and I felt like I was losing my mind… I just saw you, and… thought I’d go in… I don’t know,” I mumbled once the barman was at the other end of the counter again. My professor continued to stare back at me, his pale eyes glassy with intoxication and tongue licking the corner of his mouth. There was a definite air of anxiety coming off him.

I went to ask him something but he quickly jabbed in with a tortured statement before I could get any words out.

“I don’t trust myself to be drunk with you,” he grumbled and shook his head and looked down again, beginning to slide off his bar stool.

“Why?” I asked, knowing why.

I took a good long look at his body while he struggled to find an answer; his broad shoulders clad in a knitted sweater and the few rings on his large hands and his long legs in blue denim. I thought I hadn’t ever seen him in jeans before.

“I’ll see you Monday,” Professor Grant muttered at last and hurried to make his exit, avoiding my eye contact. I was left alone at the bar, defeated and contemplating finishing his beer. Fifteen minutes later I was back in my dorm.

April.

“This is brilliant, Y/N,” Mr. Grant gushed without greeting me. He was holding up my latest essay as he took the last few steps towards me and sat on the edge of the table beside me. It was midday and the library was crowded and struggling to stay silent.

“I mean, really, the connections you make between 19th century and current day society are incredible.”

I smiled at his enthusiasm and my chest simmered with warmth, but I was afraid to answer him. Ever since that night in the pub that was all I could think about when I looked at him. Even in bright daylight it felt like his drunk eyes were looking at me through dim lighting when we spoke. And we had spoken quite a bit lately. Things had somehow gone back to what they used to be, Mr. Grant seeming to have forgotten the memory of the pub night. But it was all obviously a front.

“I have to run, but,” he stood up and leaned in a barely noticeable amount, placing my marked essay in front of me. “This is great stuff. You’re brilliant,” he finished rather lightheartedly and friendly, but his hand squeezed my shoulder gently and it felt like his fingertips lingered when he pulled away and walked off again. I watched his broad back and long legs march out of the library, his brown waves of hair bouncing softly around his head as always. The cloud of his scent dissipated soon and my shoulder molded back into its untouched state, as I began to look through his marks and comments to the sound of my pounding heart.

May.

Towards the end of the year it seemed Professor Grant was getting more and more relaxed in a couple areas. He had stopped blushing and darting his eyes away whenever I caught him looking at me, which was still quite often. Instead he would flex his jaw and take his sweet time looking down while exhaling deeply. I suppose he was getting comfortable with the idea of soon not being my teacher anymore.

I could almost hear his thoughts today as it was the first hot day of the year and I had opted for a skirt that ended at the middle of my thighs and a thin cardigan. He seemed to be hoping that my top button might pop open from his adamant stare which he had resumed now. I was praying for the same thing as my eyes trailed down his buttoned shirt from where I sat just two rows back in the classroom.

Mr. Grant gazed away again, but only for a minute, seemingly pondering something. I tried to force my head back down to continue scribbling notes about Virginia Woolf’s To the Lighthouse, but seconds later Grant cleared his throat.

“I need to go get some books. Um… Y/N, would you mind helping me carry them?”

I snapped my head up and studied the way he was standing now, leaned over his desk with his arms straight and hands pressing into the wooden surface. Maybe my delusions were getting the best of me but I thought that definitely couldn’t have been a random pick of a student. I nodded and slid out of my seat, silently following him while my hands toyed nervously with my necklace.

The hallways were quiet and echoed with our steps as I walked next to my professor, all the while expecting him to say something. He didn’t until we were in the crowded storage room and he began stacking textbooks on my extended arms.

“Do you have any plans for the summer?” Grant asked and simultaneously made a quick grimace to comment on the heat in the tight space we’d found ourselves in.

“Work a bit, see my family… I don’t know… Read.”

“I’ll give you a reading list, don’t worry,” he said and winked. I smiled and prayed he couldn’t see my blushing cheeks in the dusky light. He let a moment pass of silence.

“I expect you’ll have a summer fling or two.”

His tone was lighthearted but investigative. I couldn’t help but scoff with laughter.

“I don’t think any guy has looked my way since starting uni.”

“I’m looking your way right now,” he joked and lowered his head to my level, inching his face closer to mine and locking in eye contact with me with a playful grin. My cheeks burned now.

“I’m looking at your eyes, your hair, your nose, your chin…”

Excitement and nerves bubbled and spilled over inside me, mixed with confusion and slight anger. He had spent so long fighting our chemistry and attraction and keeping me at an arm's length. Now all of a sudden he was charmingly playing around with me in a dark storage room. I couldn’t figure him out and it drove me mad.

“Especially looking at your arms,” Mr. Grant laughed sympathetically and looked down at my embrace of the huge stack of books. “Very strong arms.” His fingers touched my tensed bicep and all my feelings of anger left in an instant. We silently made eye contact for a few long seconds as his hand stayed put and the playful smile faded from his lips.

“Don’t stress. No boys here are good enough for you anyway.”

I couldn’t tell who was leaning in but somehow his face neared mine and I watched him close his eyes. I did the same and then I felt his lips softly against mine. There was so much more time to cherish our kiss this time around. No one was pulling away for a good long while, me still convulsively hugging the textbooks to my chest with aching arms. Soon, though, Professor Grant grabbed a hold of a bunch of them and tried to help me place them on the empty shelf space behind me while not breaking the kiss. They all slipped and crashed to the floor instead with a loud noise that echoed quickly around the room, making us both jump and laugh and stop kissing for a second. But he hurried back to me and firmly pressed me against the uncomfortably uneven surface behind me, his fingers clawing into my sides.

“Professor,” I breathed with a whimper into his desperate kisses as a sharp shelf corner dug into my back. He answered with a deep hum and I felt his smirk grow.

“I love it when you call me that,” he breathed back, his hands having found my bare skin under my cardigan. My heart was making my rib cage rattle as his teeth softly trapped my bottom lip and his hand cupped the underside of my breast. I couldn’t help but let a small moan out.

“And that’s a lovely sound, darling, do it again,” he whispered eagerly, his lips now below my ear sucking a harsh mark into my thin skin. I continued to whine and moan as I tugged at his shirt, pulling it out of his belted trousers and impatiently tearing the first few buttons open. He quickly took over and his skilled fingers rid his body of the shirt within seconds.

“Wait,” I breathed and pushed him off of me but kept him within reach. I had to take a good look at his body when I had finally gotten him topless. The thick stripes of light from the small windows coated his softly defined stomach and his chest heaved with his sharp breaths.

“Oh my god,” I muttered, tormented by his beauty, and my hands roamed down his shoulders and arms and to his narrow waist and hips. Beginning to fall back into his space, I kissed his collarbones. Mr. Grant smiled smugly at my surrender to his body but he protested and held me back.

“I want to see you too.”

I allowed him to hold me back and mindfully open the buttons down my front as I tried to control my breathing. His eyes fell on my nearly exposed breasts as he pushed my sleeves, along with my bra straps down my shoulders.

“You’re even more gorgeous than I imagined,” he mumbled and my insides fluttered at the thought of him imagining me naked.

“Have you been imagining undressing me, professor?” I taunted, wanting to hear him say it. He unclasped my bra and let it fall to the floor between us and nodded with his eyes intensely staring into mine.

“Couldn’t get the image out of my head of your body on mine.”

He leaned down and I felt his lips lock around my nipple and his hair tickle my bare skin.

“Your tight pussy around my cock,” he added in a low whisper and I whimpered again at the thought, and the sudden feeling of his large hand coating my damp underwear under my skirt.

“Fuck,” I exhaled onto his brown locks at him rubbing circles around my clit.

“Do I make you this wet, hm?” Mr. Grant asked and began kneeling in front of me, looking up into my eyes again. I shoved my hands into his soft hair and nodded.

“Yes, professor.”

He lifted my skirt up and connected his lips with my wet underwear, leaving precious kisses and listening closely to my whimpers. They only grew louder when his finger hooked into my pants and pulled them to the side, hurrying to reattach his lips and tongue.

“God, that feels so good,” I whined and combed my fingers through his fluffy hair, tightening my fist around the roots and making him groan at the slight pain.

“Yeah?” Professor Grant spurred me on. “Do you want my cock inside you, darling?”

“Yes, please.”

Him coming back up to kiss me again, I tasted myself on his lips. I couldn’t ponder on that for too long though as his body was pressed against me again and I felt his hard on between my thighs. Instantly I rushed to get his belt off.

His breaths hit my face sharply as his clothing dropped to the floor and he ran his tip along my wetness, making me moan in desperation.

Holding one of my already weak legs up to his hip, he pushed most of his length inside me and smiled darkly at the loud whimper that poured out of me in response.

“I know, I know, my love,” Mr. Grant muttered reassuringly, capturing the side of my head in his large palm and kissing my lips sweetly as he thrusted deeper.

“You’re doing so well, taking me so deep.”

I couldn’t think of any words to say back. My mind was a haze and my body a trembling mess as his hips slammed against mine at a faster pace now.

“You feel incredible,” he breathed into my ear and I continued to pant and moan into his. “Do you want to come on my cock, hm?”

He had begun rubbing my clit with his thumb. I couldn’t believe how good he was making me feel and all I could do was nod and cling onto his sturdy shoulders.

“Yes, yes, yes!” I whined and breathed into his neck and he kissed mine back. He sank his teeth into my skin slightly and the pain instantly pushed me over my edge, making my thighs shake and body twitch as he continued to stretch me out with deep thrusts.

“That’s it… So good for me,” Grant breathed and groaned at the feeling of me clenching around him. “Fuck!”

Just as his pounding was beginning to make me ache, he pulled out quickly and I watched in complete awe as he came over my chest and stomach. A string of moans and curses ripped from his throat, soon to be replaced by only his heavy breathing.

He caught the drops running down my breasts and belly with his fingers and thumb and for a second he was unsure where to go from there, at which I grabbed his wrist and guided his hand up to my mouth. I sucked his sticky fingers clean as I stared at his bright eyes and blushing cheeks, and his smirk grew again.

“You drive me crazy, Y/N,” Mr. Grant sighed with a slanted smile and he pulled his trousers up again. I blushed and bent down to get my cardigan off the floor. When I came back up he gave me another kiss, long and sweet and with his hand softly on my lower back.

“I’m afraid I might not be as strong after that,” I mumbled and we both chuckled breathily as we stared at the messy pile of books around our feet.

Mr. Grant gazed away and rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes hopping between notebooks and binders on the shelf to his left. I wasn’t sure if he felt regret or guilt or embarrassment. But he looked back at me after a moment and gave me a soft smile.

“Come on then,” he sighed with a chuckle and covered his beautiful back and arms with his shirt again before reaching for the textbooks.

#hugh grant #90s #fic #imagine #smut #fluff #angst #hugh grant x reader #student x teacher #student x professor

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absentia-if · 1 year

Text

Last Words

Got this idea because of @heleneplays reblog for this post and I couldn’t not do it. I know some of you have been wanting some Kidnapper content and I thought I’d oblige by doing this.

“Oh, little dove,” they sigh, an almost gentle touch threading through the grime-encrusted strands of your hair— blood and mud dulling the usually vibrant colors that lay beneath. “I did warn you how this would end, didn’t I?”

The gloved hand, warm against cooling flesh, shifts to your cheek, long fingers turning your gaze to their unmasked one. A dangerous beauty lurked within the darkness of their eyes— unhindered by a dark cowl, by the shadows they usually stand within, you could see the monster that had finally stepped out.

You hated how much you found them breathtaking. That the danger, the darkness, they offered still enticed you so because they didn’t pretend to be anything otherwise— they may put on a mask, to appease the general public, but they never denied the demon that lurked just beneath the surface of the angelic facade.

Forcing your lips to work, trying to ignore the growing numbness spreading through your limbs like molasses, you speak. “W-Why?”

They don’t say anything in response to your question, an almost stony look flickering across the expanse of their face before the calm neutrality— with just a hint of arrogance— returns.

“Because it’s who I am.”

The response, and the meaning of the words, so much deeper than what they appeared to be at surface level, causes your breath to stutter; darkness begins to leech out from your peripheral vision.

Because it’s who I am.

They were words you had gotten used to. Words, within an elegant scrawl, that were etched across your right side; ever since the day you had been born into this world. The last words your soulmate would ever speak to you.

You couldn’t find it within yourself to open your mouth and say anything else— to find the strength that had left you so long ago while you lay on the grimy floor of a long abandoned warehouse. Nothing else mattered as the world around you began to fade, your heartbeat growing slower and slower as each moment passed, and the only thing that remained was the gentle touch once more at your head.

Even as you slipped away into nothingness.

———————

Why?

Such a simple question. One that every child got the grasp of rather quickly. Why do we have to go? Why do those people not like ice cream? Why can’t I go play outside?

Why?

Those three letters, that simple question, had become something so much more during their life. Becoming the most complex equation that would follow them as they grew, and they became what they are now.

As the red on their hands grew to such a dark crimson it almost matched the blackness of the gloves that usually adorned them.

Why?

Because it’s who they are. They’re a monster, a beast that had been let loose from hell to rain agony on the purgatory of life. Their purpose, their only purpose, was to hunt from the shadows to snuff out the light, which means they never gave the tattoo situated on the left side of their chest any thought. Didn’t think about the being that lived out there— unaware of the monster that forever stained its darkness onto them.

Ignored the possibility of their happy ending. Monsters didn’t get one— evil didn’t know how to love. All it knew how to do was consume and conquer, it didn’t know the softness of a lover's hand or the gentleness of its warmth.

“It’s who I am,” they murmur, hand finally stalling its repeated motion within the dirty strands of hair. The vibrancy of the strands was lost when the figure was too. “It’s who I am.”

Even if sometimes I wish it wasn’t…

Evil didn’t know how to love, but they might have made the exception this one time to learn.

#absentia #the kidnapper #heleneplays #red flags galore #but have this snippet #snippet

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smoments · 5 months

Text

✧ part 16 (final part): memories of a stranger // a satosugu reincarnation au

❝ let's meet again, for the first time. ❞

╰┈➤ in which 19-year old gojo satoru happens upon a stranger at a cafe who speaks his name with a kind of softness and familiarity that satoru’s sure he’s heard before.

chapter 1

ao3 link

➽ chapter 16: my one and only

That morning begins the same way that it has every year prior; Satoru, who apparently has an inner alarm clock that only works on one out of every three hundred sixty-five days, shoots up in bed as if on cue and stretches out his arms, appreciating his surroundings on a deeper level now that he’s viewing them with a new maturity. He stays silent for as long as he can before the anticipation overtakes him, and then he rolls over to the other side of the bed and grabs Suguru by the shoulder, shaking him urgently.

“Wake up! Guess whose birthday it is?”

Suguru could honestly just set his alarm for earlier on Satoru’s birthday so he wouldn’t have to be awoken so abruptly. Unfortunately, he insists that it’s about the principle of the thing, which Satoru thinks is dumb- especially because it also means that the first expression he usually makes on this day is disgruntled, not reverent.

As usual, he groans, stretching out and gazing up at Satoru through bleary eyes.

“Satoru, we’ve talked about this… I assure you that I’d be far more enthusiastic about your birthday if you didn’t wake me up at an ungodly hour every year.”

Satoru nods, trying to look sympathetic since he doesn’t particularly feel like switching up what has now become such a sentimental part of their routine. “Maybe you’ll get lucky the fourth time around?”

“Considering it’s you, I highly doubt that.”

He throws himself onto Suguru’s half-awake form in starfish fashion, his limbs stretching easily from the headboard to the foot of the bed, and Suguru catches him with little effort.

“Well. I guess you’ll just have to break up with me, then.” He goads, tracing little stars on Suguru’s upper arm with the tips of his fingers.

“You know that won’t happen.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I wouldn’t let you out easy. Ever tried canceling a gym membership?”

Suguru rolls his eyes, resting a light hand on Satoru’s upper back.

“No, I meant that you were worth keeping around.”

He groans, suddenly bashful, and rolls to the other side of the bed, smothering his face with a pillow to hide his embarrassment - badly, since he’s also kicking his feet and rolling around in the sheets.

“You’re cheesy, Suguru.”

Suguru rolls his eyes, extending his arm to the mahogany nightstand next to the bed and spinning the digital alarm clock atop it toward himself.

“Most of the time, at least.”

He stops fanboying and throws the pillow onto his lap, sitting up again with a new indignance in his voice.

“How dare you! On my birthday, of all days!” “You’re the one who called me cheesy,” he protests, but turns to press his lips briefly to the crown of Satoru’s mess of hair, a place with which he’s grown rather well-acquainted. “Happy birthday, Satoru.”

Satoru grins, relaxing at his touch, and speaks again with a new thoughtfulness in his voice. “I feel so old. But, like, in a cool way. You think I’ll start going gray soon?”

“It’ll be hard to tell if you do.”

“My hair is white, not gray!”

“Yeah, so it’ll be, like… highlights? Me, on the other hand, with all this stress…” He sighs remorsefully, reaching up to run a hand through his mussed hair and inclining his head towards the apparent cause of his agony. “I’ll be lucky to have anything left by twenty-five.”

“Oh, you wanna see stress? I’ll show you stress!” He flings the pillow at Suguru’s smirking face, groaning when he catches it and sets it gently down at the headboard before swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

“Come back! Didn’t you wanna go back to sleep?”

Suguru scoffs at him, flicking on the bathroom light and grabbing his toothbrush from the sink.

”After all this commotion? Even if I could, you never let me sleep on your birthday.”

“It’s one of the most important days of the year, Suguru, so you should enjoy it for as long as you can.”

“You don’t let me sleep in on my own birthday either.”

“Exactly?”

“It’s my birthday, so shouldn’t the whole point be that I can do whatever I want?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

Suguru is rather difficult to argue with. Not that Satoru makes much of an effort.

“Are the kids awake yet?”

“Have you woken them up yet?”

“Huh. Good point.”

Deciding to move in together was hardly a question; it became necessary at that point in their relationship when they started spending enough nights together that more of his belongings were at Suguru’s house than his- forgotten articles of clothing tucked away in a drawer that Suguru silently reserved for him, sketchbooks flipped to open pages scrawled with doodles and haphazard, half-formed ideas for paintings strewn across his living room, a fridge stocked with Satoru’s favorite kind of apples and all the sweets that Suguru tolerated but never went out of his way to buy for himself; his presence lingered in the corners of the small apartment even when he wasn’t there, and both of them were acutely aware of it. At some point, he grew fed up with never being able to find his toothbrush and brought the issue up to Suguru.

“Why don’t you just buy another toothbrush?”

“Are you trying to ignore the callings of fate?”

So they moved in together. That would have happened eventually either way, but Satoru deemed sooner better than later. He hoped that he and Suguru would have all the time in the world together, but he hardly intended to rely on that notion. Why wait at all, right?

The children were a different story. Megumi and Tsumiki were both young- far too young to be faring for themselves, even with their frequent visits and check-ins. They’d grown close enough over the past two years that Satoru felt comfortable bringing up a change in living arrangements - and Megumi wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about most anything, so the glimmer of joy in his eyes upon Satoru’s suggestion was more than enough for Suguru to get on board too.

Even if they couldn’t yet officially adopt given their age, having them close was comforting. Tsumiki and Megumi had essentially raised themselves until that point, and while Satoru mourned the childhood that had already been taken from them, he wanted them to enjoy the rest of it to the fullest.

And besides- the place they’d chosen was larger than they could justify for just the two of them, like they’d known they would end up needing the extra space.

Satoru heads to the nearest bedroom first, his socked feet padding softly against the wooden floor. The kids love to tease them about how they can tell who’s at the door from the sound of their footsteps, or how they knock; apparently, Suguru taps lightly at the door and then waits, while he raps his fist against the wood, his other hand already at the knob and ready to turn.

He pokes his head through the second one of the girls calls out in assent, gracing the twins with a playfully charming grin.

“Hellooo? We’re sleeping in today, are we?”

“He’s been waiting to say that all year.”

“Yeah, because he usually doesn’t wake up early enough.”

They dissolve into a fit of giggles, and he rolls his eyes, holding out his arms expectantly.

“So? Where’s my birthday gift?”

“We’ll give it to you later. At the party.”

Mimiko nods vehemently, and he shakes his head, but relents. He doesn’t quite get why they prefer to share a bedroom when they have the extra space, but Suguru says it’s how they feel most comfortable, so he doesn’t inquire.

Suguru has always been more intuitive between the two of them when it comes to stuff like that, and, of course, it was he who took them in just a few years ago. Satoru was happy for him when he began the non-profit, but he only truly understood why Suguru felt so strongly about his choice of career when he showed up at their front door one day with two little girls at his side, his expression just as resolved as it was apologetic. His line of work meant that he occasionally came into contact with victims of abuse or abandonment, but most of the time he was just an intermediary. From the look on his face, this time was different.

Satoru didn’t miss a beat; if Suguru loved them, then he was sure it would come just as easily to him. And that it did.

He never understood when people said you had to be related by blood to truly know a parental connection- he loved all of the children like they were his own. Besides, if that was the case, then wouldn’t you have to be related to your spouse to truly love them, too? He shudders at the thought, deciding that maybe that isn’t such a great analogy, and Nanako asks him, word for word, ‘why he looks like that’.

“How rude! This is literally just my face.”

”Well, it’s weird.”

And because he loves her like his own, instead of being mature and letting it go like he probably should, he narrows his eyes, stepping into the room with a menacing air about him, and tickles her relentlessly until she, gasping for breath between bursts of laughter, finally takes it back.

Ironically, they end up being a few minutes late to Satoru’s birthday dinner; Tsumiki had asked Megumi to do her hair, which was not unusual in and of itself, but tonight he went for a french braid as opposed to the simple three-section one he was inclined to - despite having only just mastered the latter during their most recent outing a week ago. Suguru gently suggested that it might be a lot to take on in just half an hour, especially given Nanako’s claim that she tried doing it on herself once and ended up having to ask Suguru to brush it out for her because of how tangled it became, but he was adamant. He did get it in the end, at least, in large part thanks to Suguru’s own knowledge surrounding hair.

“What can I say? I’m a girl dad.” He’d winked at Megumi, and Satoru laughed, running his fingers across Suguru’s effortless half-bun.

“No, you’ve gotta exclusively have girls to be a girl dad. You’re just gay.”

Suguru’s expression turned serious, and he looked over at Megumi, who looked like he found Satoru’s jab amusing but didn’t want to admit it.

”Megumi, remember what I told you the other day about microaggressions?”

“Suguruu! I’m allowed to say that!”

He snorts at the memory as they pull into the parking lot of their destination, looking out at the warm, soft-yellow bulbs that dangle below the overhang of the building and illuminate the entrance.

It’s one of his favorite restaurants, perhaps because of the way it toes the line between casual and classy, and therefore works for most any occasion. It’s where he and Suguru went to celebrate just the two of them after moving in together, but ended up just sitting across from each other with untouched plates of food in front of them, unable to keep down the giddiness that arose from the prospect of finally being together for as long as they wanted on a daily basis. Suguru eventually broke from his haze, murmuring something about how they should eat since they were here anyways, and Satoru nodded in agreement. Neither made any move to unwrap the cloth napkin folded neatly around their utensils, and they ended up taking their dinner to go and having it a day later in their new home , going out of their way to say the words over and over just to hear them, just to feel them linger in the open air - as if anybody was listening. Suguru, can you get the placemats from that drawer? Wow, doesn’t this place have so many more cabinets? Satoru, look at the view out this window. I’m glad we chose a house in such a nice spot. I wonder if the kids would like it here, Suguru. In our new home. And they’d look at each other like some secret had just passed between them, like they’d just spoken in a language unbeknownst to anybody else, and they’d grin like idiots.

“Did you guys order without us?” Satoru inquires in place of a greeting when they arrive at their booth, swinging around the table and flopping down into the seat across from Shoko, who shakes her head, smiling.

”We wanted to, but Nanami wouldn’t let us.” Utahime elaborates matter-of-factly. Yuuji, who is seated right between Nanami and his older brother and seems to be the true cause of the delay, nods emphatically.

”You’re not supposed to eat until everyone’s at the table!”

“You always have your plate wiped clean by the time I sit down.” Sukuna points out, and he shrugs noncommittally. “That’s because you always take too long. And plus, Nanamin has been teaching me about efficiency.” He pats his stomach to emphasize his point.

“He helps me out at the bakery.” Nanami looks over at Yuuji, a faint smile playing at his lips, and he nods enthusiastically.

”Yeah! He says I’m his most valuable employee.”

“All you do is smile pretty for the customers.” His brother replies, slightly bemused.

“Um, yes, which helps get people in the store! Look, would you rather get a snack from somewhere with that face staring at you through the window? Or this one?”

He gestures between Sukuna’s scowling countenance and his own comparatively angelic face, and the former rewards him with an offended glower.

“Look here now, you little brat-“

“Woah, let’s lighten the mood a little, guys!”

“That’s not how that works, Satoru.” Shoko remarks. “You can’t just talk about lightening the mood. You have to, like, actually lighten it.”

“Maybe that’s how it is for most people, but I’m different.”

“Tell him that.” She gestures to Sukuna, whose mood does not appear to have lightened in the slightest, and puts a mild amount of effort toward stifling a laugh.

Satoru sighs deeply, and then claps, an idea occurring to him. “Maybe if you get some food in you, you’ll be less grumpy?”

The rest of them murmur their agreement, but Sukuna only redirects his glare to Satoru, who levels him with a thoughtful stare.

”Down, boy.” He tries, and hears Suguru choke on his water. Fortunately for him, even Yuuji’s strong-tempered brother doesn’t seem to know what to say to that, and Haibara, clueless, nudges Nanami to ask whether he prefers the shrimp or vegetable tempura, effectively setting off new surges of conversation from each corner of the comfortably crowded booth.

Their food comes out quickly, that familiarly irresistible deep-fried aroma drifting from the kitchen in the minutes before the server herself makes it out to set their vast assortment of dishes on the table.

Suguru responds to inquiries about the quality of his meal, which he’s hardly tasted despite being a third of the way through, with quick nods and a vague smile, clearing his throat too often and stealing occasional glances at Satoru like a lovestruck teenager. He wipes his palms against the thin fabric of his pants, giving another nod when Satoru asks him a question and only registering that it may not have called for a yes-or-no answer when he receives a furrowed brow in response.

“What?”

“I was asking what time you wanted to go back to the house.”

“Oh. Sorry. Uh, maybe half an hour?”

“Okay, cool.” He turns to their friends, cupping his hands over his mouth to call out to them. “You guys have fifteen minutes to finish eating, and then we’re ordering dessert!”

Yuuji joins him in cheering, throwing his arms into the air and nearly knocking over a glass of water that Nanami rights just in time. Megumi rolls his eyes, unfolding the menu resting in front of him and burying his face in it.

Apparently curious as to what he’s so absorbed in all of a sudden, Satoru peeks over his head and catches a flash of pale pink on the page Megumi is carefully examining. He grins knowingly.

“So you’re scoping out the cakes, I see.”

“I’m looking at the mochi. That’s what you like, isn’t it?” He responds flatly, injecting a hint of annoyance into his voice so as not to sound too gentle.

“Aww! Suguru, did you hear that?”

Suguru looks over at them, a mild grin on his face. “Very sweet,” he agrees, wondering if Satoru can hear his heart pounding in his chest. They know each other so well at this point that he wouldn’t be particularly surprised.

As expected, Satoru’s eyes linger on his face, a flicker of surprise passing over his face.

“You look nervous. Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to give a speech about me or anything.”

It’s meant as a comfort, but instead it sends his pulse skyrocketing. He forces a nervous laugh.

“Right. Of course. No speeches.”

Satoru gives him a strange look and reaches over to rest his hand on Suguru’s and give it a gentle pat, not noticing- or perhaps ignoring - the clamminess of his palm. “What’s up?”

God, Satoru’s gotten so much better at communication. He’d be proud on any other day, but at the moment, having to express himself verbally sounds absolutely dreadful. It’s like he’s worried that if he uses up all his mental energy now, he’ll be lost for words when he truly needs them. Still, the feeling of Satoru’s skin on his - warm, comforting, and so familiar - calms him down, if imperceptibly. He takes a deep breath, forcing his muddled thoughts into order, and meets Satoru’s eyes with a confidence that he absolutely does not feel.

“Satoru, did you know? You can get free dessert here.”

“What? When did they tell you that?” Satoru gasps, scandalized. “Did you come here without me?!” He turns away, waving their server over frantically - presumably to haggle her about said deal - and the tension drains from Suguru’s body as he watches, his lips curving into a half smile.

The waitress stops halfway to their table, the bemusement on her face slipping into shock, and brings a hand up to her open mouth. Satoru, who’s wrapped up in gesturing to the menu that he’s just borrowed from Megumi, doesn’t notice anything amiss until the rest of their table goes quiet.

“And I was wondering about - hey, why does it always go silent when I’m talking? Guys-“

He spins around to address them, but the words catch in his throat when he registers Suguru’s absence and shifts his gaze downward. His lips part, and he releases a shaky breath.

”Oh. Oh my god.”

Suguru lifts his head from the ground, trying without success to steady his trembling hands, and offers him a crooked smile, laying an elbow on the knee that rests on the tile floor of the restaurant.

“Satoru,” he murmurs, and all the agonizing over this moment, all his attempts to memorize the perfect speech, all the hours he spent scouring his brain for the exact words he wanted to say to Satoru - it seems silly, all of a sudden. Because the feel of that name on his lips brings everything, in a dizzying rush, to the forefront of his mind. He swallows, and then he begins to speak, slowly, deliberately, his voice trembling.

”I…I’ve known since I first laid my eyes on you. I never thought… that love at first sight existed. Until I saw you in that cafe. But that wasn’t love at first sight, was it, Satoru? Even at the first glance, it was like I’d seen you a thousand times before. And…” the corner of his mouth tugs upward. “I hope to see you at least that many times more. I hope that you’ll grant me the honor of waking up next to you every morning for the rest of this life, and for the entirety of any lives that follow. I’ll treasure every second, every little happiness, Satoru. If you’ll… if you’ll marry me?”

He holds his breath, the complete silence closing in around him, the pressure suffocating. The thumping of his heart has died down to a quiet, barely discernible vibration in his chest.

And then Satoru speaks, and the restaurant explodes into the most beautiful wave of sound he’s ever heard.

“Yes. Yes, of course. God, I didn’t know I had to respond… I thought it was, like, rhetorical. H-how could I say no? Suguru! Suguru, finally!”

He gets to his feet, smiling so wide his cheeks ache, and staggers when Satoru throws his arms around his neck without warning, but quickly steadies himself and returns the warm embrace.

“I wanted to give you a speech, too!” Satoru chokes out through the tears that have begun to roll down his cheeks and onto Suguru’s shoulder, soaking through his dress shirt. Suguru nudges his nose against his neck, inhaling the slightly sweet scent of his skin, and finds himself smiling again, even as he blinks back tears of his own.

“There’s always the vows, right?”

As soon as he says the words, he almost regrets it, because Satoru immediately begins crying what seems like ten times harder. He eventually composes himself just enough to separate himself from Suguru and settle back down in his chair, beaming at each and every ‘congratulations’ and begrudging wish directed towards them.

“Shoko! Shoko, can you believe it?” He cries, raising his voice to be heard over the commotion.

Shoko nods, a mildly concerned expression on her face, and he blinks, his tone turning panicky within the space of a second.

“What? What happened?”

“Guys, you know that was…” She murmurs, her eyes flicking hesitantly from their faces to the table. After a second of reluctant deliberation, she lowers her voice to a whisper, leaning forward discreetly. “That was kind of gay.”

She and Satoru burst out laughing in perfect unison, and he reaches across the table to wrap her in a tight hug as Suguru looks on, slightly bewildered, but smiling nevertheless. They only pull apart at the soft clatter of ceramic against wood, Satoru’s wide-eyed gaze almost immediately fixing itself to the platter of cream-filled mochi now in front of him. The waitress smiles down at them graciously, dipping her head in a short bow.

”Congratulations! It’s on us.”

Suguru had made up the free dessert line on the spot, but the astonished look that Satoru rests upon him as the woman returns to the kitchen after being assaulted by words of appreciation from both he and Yuuji is so lovely, so adoring, that he doesn’t have the heart to say so.

So instead, he shakes his head, watching as Satoru asks Megumi whether he wants matcha or strawberry, then stuffs the answer (matcha) into his own mouth as Megumi looks on resignedly. “Megs! You’re supposed to get mad!” Satoru then complains, taking a replacement piece of mochi off the plate and handing it to their son, who still looks like he wouldn’t have particularly cared either way.

“So?”

Suguru tears his gaze away from the slowly darkening sky, glancing back at the children seated behind them in the minivan. Mimiko, her chin resting atop the soft head of her favorite stuffed animal, seems to understand what he’s asking before he elaborates, and turns to grin knowingly at her sisters.

“How’d I do?” He inquires, squeezing Satoru’s hand where their fingers lay intertwined on the smooth center console of the car.

“You did pretty good!” Nanako announces proudly; and he replies with all the seriousness necessary in accepting a compliment from an ever-honest child, giving her a sincerely grateful nod. His former anxiety seems so far away now- in fact, everything does.

He thinks back to his worst days, when even getting out of bed felt like a monumental task and he could barely find it in himself to go through the motions of his everyday life. When he couldn’t understand what could possibly be wanted of him, how he was supposed to search for glimmers of meaning in what seemed like an endless expanse of defeat.

It wasn’t necessarily that Satoru pulled him out of the darkness; it was more like he’d stepped just an inch closer, prodded him in the shoulder, and gestured in the distance to a speck of light that Suguru had been previously blind to. And as soon as he laid his eyes upon it, his surroundings lit up entirely, set aglow by a thousand flickers of warm, bright luminescence that dimmed and intensified in time with the rising and falling of his chest. All the little beauties of life, suddenly laid out before him. Everything was the same; everything was different.

Now, an easy smile graces his lips, and as Megumi flashes him a thumbs up and Tsumiki claps quietly, beaming in her characteristically affectionate fashion, he wonders to himself what he’s done to deserve such a life.

“Suguru?!”

They’re curled up on their couch of choice, tucked away into a far corner of the living room close enough to the fireplace that the heat emanating from the gentle flames rises straight from its enclosure and into his skin. A shiver passes through him despite the warmth, and he sits up urgently, his pulse soaring.

“I think I lost the ring!” He cries, his eyes locked on the notably empty skin of his ring finger as he searches frantically through his memory, trying to piece together everything he’s done in the short time since the proposal. But right now, he can’t even remember the color of the jewel, whether the band was silver or gold - and he certainly can’t think clearly back to those hazy, dream-like minutes immediately following the event. It all passed by so quickly, in a lustrously airbrushed sort of blur- much like those paintings turned out in the landscape lessons he led last week, which Nobara, Yuuji and Megumi recently joined in on.

“You did?” Suguru’s voice takes on an unusually panicked note as he runs his hands over the plush cushions beneath them, hoping his fingers will close around the small, polished metal of the ring, which (he prays) has only just now slipped off Satoru’s hand. He makes a mental note to exchange it for a smaller size as soon as possible.

“Shoko! The ring is gone!” Satoru cries as she and Nobara set two cups of coffee on the round oak table next to a plate of biscuits Suguru put out for their guests. She straightens up, her brow slightly furrowed.

”What?!” She exclaims, bewildered. “How-“ Her face relaxes, and a laugh that’s equally dazed and relieved escapes her lips. “Are you guys dumb? You never gave him the ring.”

“…What?” Suguru reaches into his pocket, digging out the small, navy-blue box and clicking it open with his thumb. “Ah.”

He feels Satoru’s body sag in relief at his side. “Haha. I knew it.”

“We would have made it to the wedding before you noticed.” Suguru replies, still in the process of bringing his heart rate back down to a reasonable level.

“Men.” Utahime, who has just appeared at Shoko’s side, shakes her head exasperatedly, tilting it against the other’s shoulder and relaxing into her side. Shoko grins, shooting a meaningful look at Nobara, who nods sagely, having already arrived at the same one-word conclusion all on her own in spite of her age. Men.

“Thanks for your help the other day, guys.” Suguru adds.

His original plan had been to keep his intentions to himself; Satoru could be unnervingly perceptive, and so he wanted to steer clear of anything that might ruin the surprise, but he’d been such a mess in the days leading up to Satoru’s birthday that he ended up spilling everything to Shoko and Utahime in hopes that they might be able to offer him some advice. Their answers were sound: Keep it simple. Don’t plan it out too much; all that stuff will go to hell when it’s finally time, anyway. Tell him exactly what you’re feeling. And make it quick, okay? We don’t want to sit through too much sappiness. (The last one was Utahime).

“No problem. You know I’ve been on board since day one.”

A faint flush comes over Suguru’s face as he recalls that day at the gallery and the words Shoko whispered in his ear that left him frozen to his spot in the center of the nearly-empty building, shock and disbelief coursing through him.

“Why don’t you try for that kiss now?”

As it turned out, he would take her advice just a couple days later.

“How’d you know it was because of… that?” He asks carefully, clearing his throat and hoping Satoru won’t inquire as to the cause of his sudden embarrassment.

“Oh, please. Wasn’t it, like, a week later that you guys got together?”

“Well, I suppose…”

“Guys! It’s snowing!”

Yuuji waves exaggeratedly at them from the window, his small hands pressed up against the frosted glass, and nudges Megumi at his side in case he didn’t hear his initial cry of delight. Nobara hurries over to see, her eyes bright with delight, and tells Yuuji to move back a little because he’s apparently ruining the aesthetic by smushing his face against the glass. Nanami sips from his mug of coffee, leaning his elbows on the kitchen island and watching contently as Yuuji and Nobara shove each other back and forth until Megumi gets sick of being jostled in the crossfire and plants himself firmly between them. Suguru shakes his head.

“The first snow. It’s late this year.” He murmurs, the coolness of metal against his palm reminding him of the ring in his hand. He wraps his fingers around Satoru’s wrist, taking a moment to admire their delicate beauty like he doesn’t already know every crevice of his palm, couldn’t map out each individual joint of his fingers. Then, he slides the silver band down his ring finger, marveling at how smoothly it goes on. Satoru slowly turns his hand over, admiring the jewel.

”Pretty. You chose perfectly, Suguru.”

He thinks so, too; it’s a slim-bodied ring, subtly lovely, with a small circular indent carved out at the top that houses two interconnected jewels- opal and onyx, the display said. He had the inside engraved, too, but he decides to wait for Satoru to discover that detail for himself. His eyes travel to the tree next to the fireplace, still faintly smelling of pine and glittering with yellow-white lights. The gifts piled at its base vary in shape and neatness of packaging; the messiest are the ones wrapped by the children and Satoru, with a sizable amount from today alone- he was adamant about receiving separate gifts for his birthday and the holidays.

“I love you.” He says quietly in lieu of a reply, the words almost unconscious with how little effort it takes them to leave his lips.

”S-Suguru! I.. would sure hope so, after you did all this.”

“I just wanted to tell you. Again.”

A moment of silence, and then Satoru leans over and presses his lips to Suguru’s, soft and warm and tasting of sweet cream and matcha.

“I love you too,” he says within the second he pulls away, like he couldn’t get the words out quickly enough. Like he’d overflow with the intensity of his emotions if he kept them in for a moment longer. It’s an eagerness that brings yet another gentle smile to Suguru’s lips, and they gaze at each other for a second longer, giddy on the beauty of the evening.

“Wait ‘til after the honeymoon to start acting like newlyweds, will you?”

Shoko suggests as she pulls a board game out of some closet Satoru didn’t know they had and the twins crowd her in their excitement.

“That’s too predictable. We should’ve started before we were even dating.” Satoru replies regretfully, and Suguru casts him an odd look.

”How would that even work?”

Satoru leans forward to pick his drink up off the table, its warmth impossibly permeating in a way that would soothe him from the inside out if he weren’t already so content in his spot next to Suguru on the couch.

“I’d… have to think about that.” He replies, tilting the mug upward and allowing some of the smooth liquid to flow into his mouth- and then nearly spitting it out the second it hits his tongue. He coughs into his elbow, the dark bitterness of the drink taking him by surprise.

“This isn’t hot chocolate?”

“Hot chocolate isn’t as good with cake.” Nanami explains, and then Satoru remembers the blue-and-white birthday cake sitting patiently on the counter and nods suspiciously- though he’d personally beg to differ. The word ‘cake’ steals the attention of every previously occupied child in that room except Megumi (who follows Yuuji and Nobara anyway), and Satoru barely suppresses the urge to get caught up in the excitement and rush to the counter himself. He turns to look at Suguru, who meets his gaze immediately, and a rush of affection flows through him.

He hasn’t had any more of those nightmares since that day at the lake. The existing memories of what he likes to think of as their past life have slipped to the very back of his consciousness, causing him not the slightest bit of trouble on most days unless he opts to rifle through them himself. And… they were nice, those little inklings of knowledge that he possessed about Suguru without having personally discovered them, but he much prefers how it feels to collect them himself amid the days they spend together.

What Satoru knows about him now is not something that can be given to someone in bits and scattered pieces; it’s a complete view, he thinks, an accumulation of hours spent by his side, of nights during which the sound of Suguru’s slow, even breathing lulls him to sleep.

His hand tightens around the mug of coffee as Suguru smiles at him, his eyes flashing with amusement. He gestures to the drink with a gentle incline of his head.

“Just like you remember?” He inquires, and Satoru’s heart stutters in his chest. He tries to convince himself that the question is about the coffee, regarding which he doesn’t think he’ll be changing his mind anytime soon, but something about the knowing look in Suguru’s eyes makes him think it’s far more than that. The snow continues falling steadily outside the window, painting their yard white; the fireplace flickers with warmth, a fiery blend of oranges and yellows; having collected around the cake, their friends call out to them, waving Satoru over so that he can blow out the candles and then they can tease him about how he must be the only person in the world who genuinely enjoys standing there while people sing ‘happy birthday’ to him.

He pauses, holding on to the moment and secretly hoping it stretches out beyond him forever, an infinitely wondrous thread of existence.

“No. Better, actually,” he whispers, a smile tracing his lips. “So much better.”

the end :)

#satosugu #jjk #ao3 fanfic #archive of our own #coffee shop au #fanfiction #alternate universe #geto suguru #gojo satoru #crying screaming throwing up #it's finally over??#thank you so much for reading #ilysm <3 #this was such a joy to write

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maddys-nerd-blog · 4 months

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Maddy’s Top Five Favorite TMNT Episodes from Every Series!

Welcome to my ranking list! My first of many, hopefully! I even spiced things up and made it all fancy with the different font! 😂 god I’m getting old.

A while ago I made a PowerPoint presentation for fun about the history of the TMNT and the franchise. From that point it led to me gaining a spot in a YouTube video series discussing the movies leading up to the premier of Mutant Mayhem, and it’s been one of the best things to happen to me despite the terrible stuff I’ve gone through.

TMNT really saved me at the lowest point of my life in the winter of 2022. It inspired me to go back to Tumblr. I met and befriended incredibly talented people in this fandom. And I’ve found a reason to be happy again because of it. The pain of losing my big sister still aches, and I miss her more each passing day, but I know she’d tell me to get off my ass and do what made me happy.

So for my birthday this weekend, I’ll share this with you guys to celebrate something that brought me joy through all this pain. ❤️‍🩹

Let’s talk turtles! 💙💜❤️🧡

Lemme explain the criteria for this real fast;

The episode had to have come from a current/ up to date show. It has to be fully completed!

The episodes have to catch my interest and the plot needs to be gripping! The angstier the better!

Any of the series episodes are candidates for a win! Except for certain ones that I’d rather not watch 🤣

SPOILERS BEWARE! Cuz… well, I dunno who’s finished the shows and I don’t wanna ruin the surprise for others!

Also, this never would have been possible without @jadethest0ne for inspiring me! Thank you for all you do in the TMNT fandom, your art/ analyses are wonderful!!! Please go give them support!!

Onto the list proper! Starting with the series that started it all: 1987!

The Maltese Hamster ( Season 3 Ep. 4 ) An excellent Donatello solo episode that takes the tone of a detective noir movie, but keeping the fun vibe of the show! Donnie gets to take center stage for once, April gets to use a laser gun, and the shift in tone sets the mood really well! It’s downright harrowing to watch a building collapse on Donnie and see him limping away from the scene in agony, passing out at Irma’s feet, trying to save his brothers despite the odds. Donnie’s my favorite turtle for a reason!

Raphael Meets His Match ( Season 4 Ep. 17 ) The first appearance of Mona Lisa, and I can see why the fans adore this ship so much! The chemistry between Mona and Raph throughout this one episode is really telling of how impactful one character can be to a franchise! Mona is really fun! She’s not just a token ‘girl character’ trope or an archetype, she can handle herself and kick ass alongside the turtles, plus she and Raph have some pretty witty banter together!

Beware The Lotus ( Season 3 Ep. 28 ) The introduction of Lotus Blossom! It’s speculated that the inspiration for Karai came from Lotus! Lotus and Leo had great chemistry together, it's a shame we only got two episodes to spend with her. She really is an interesting character with loads of story potential about finding your place in the world, discovering who you are, changing your destiny to make it what you want. This is me basically saying I am now part of the Lotus Blossom Fan Club.

Cowabunga, Shredhead! ( Season 3 Ep. 18 ) This is one of the fan favorite episodes, and after I watched it for the first time I could not stop laughing. James Avery does his best Mikey impression while playing the over the top Shredder, and everyone just accepts it??? It’s downright genius! The meme material from this one is plentiful!

Michelangelo Meets Mondo Gecko ( Season 5 Ep. 4 ) The introduction of Mondo himself, and he’s got a really cool design! On first viewing I was pleasantly surprised by his unique color scheme and his character! He’s a bad guy that gets a redemption arc by the end of the episode! I was rooting for him the whole time! It was this debut that made me adore Mondo, and he’s since become my favorite mutant character of the franchise!

Honorable Mentions are Donatello’s Duplicate and Turtlemaniac!

Next up is a controversial one, but I gotta be honest… ‘03 isn’t my favorite series for a lot of reasons, but I will admit! When this series had fantastic episodes, they were AMAZING. So I gotta give credit when due and give kudos to these wins!

The Shredder Strikes Back Parts One and Two ( Season 1 Episodes 17-18 ) Nothing really tops how good this show was in the first season, and these episodes take the comic storyline of Leo’s beatdown and bring it to life masterfully. For Leo’s segments of part one it’s spent mostly with no dialogue— the animation and music carrying how serious the scene is as Leo has to fight for his life against the Foot and how desperate he becomes as he grows weaker and weaker. The second episode is non-stop action as the rest of the turtles, Splinter, April and Casey have to fend off the Foot and Shredder as they fight for their lives in the antique shop. This is one of Michael Sinterniklass’s BEST performances as Leo in these episodes. The stakes are higher than ever before, the animation is gorgeous, and everyone gives it their all for this epic mid-season finale.

Same As It Never Was ( Season 3 Ep. 21 ) This is the episode I would tell people to watch if they think TMNT is just kiddie trash.

Bad Blood ( Season 6 Ep. 12 ) Probably the Fast Forward concept I wish got expanded on instead of giving it two standalone stories and dropping it entirely. It’s a cool idea that I wish got touched upon more often because, yeah, what would evil clones of the turtles look like? What kind of abilities could they have? There’s infinite possibilities! I could live without the new catchphrase ‘It's Ninja Time’ though. While Fast Forward is flawed, this episode was the one I thoroughly liked!

Insane in the Membrane ( Season 4 Ep. 19 ) The infamously banned episode, and all I have to say about it is two words. Holy. Shit.

The Real World Part One ( Season 3 Ep. 22 ) Any team-up with Usagi Yojimbo is a good one, and this was such a delight! It’s loosely based on one of the Usagi stories from the comics, and I loved how badass they made both Usagi and Tomoe! Leo and Usagi have great chemistry as always, and you can tell they have a strong bond with one another as warriors! Or boyfriends depending on how you interpret their relationship but honestly I totally see where everyone is coming from, THESE TWO ARE ADORABLE DORKS.

Next up is my all-time favorite incarnation of the franchise, 2012!! I have A LOT to say about so many of the episodes but alas, I could only choose five to discuss. One day… one day I shall make a thesis about it 🤣 for now however, here’s my top five faves from this series!

The Yojimbo Trilogy ( Season 5 Episodes 7-9 ) Oh. My. God. YES. The love letter to Stan Sakai’s comics, the beautiful homage to vintage Japanese cinema with the camera framework and action, and OH MY LORD, THE COLORS AND SHADING DURING USAGI’S FIGHT WITH JAY IN THE FINALE???? THAT’S CINEMA! Excellent voice acting by Yuki Matsuzaki, which was his first English speaking role and personally chosen by Sakai himself to play the ronin rabbit! My only complaint is that I wish we’d gotten more of the Yojimbo characters in here, like Tomoe or Gen! Otherwise I can watch all three of these episodes on repeat and always get excited!

Lone Rat and Cubs ( Season 5 Ep. 10 ) The final appearance of Splinter, the episode Kevin Eastman wrote, and a beautiful send-off to this character. It’s a flashback, yes, but this is the episode we get to see Yoshi adapting to his mutation as a rat, raising his boys, trying to be a good father and struggling to survive from the Krang. It’s a part of his life we rarely ever get to see, and this episode shows us why he was a great father. Basically it's a try not to cry challenge. For me, THIS episode is the series finale because it’s just a perfect conclusion to Splinter and his story.

Requiem/Owari ( Season 4 Episodes 25-26 ) The finale to the overall series, the finale to this overarching story, and it’s just as heartbreaking and suspenseful as you’d expect. The writers don't hold back their punches, and it shows that the gloves have finally come off. The characters we’ve come to love and care for are at their breaking point, the Shredder is the most threatening he’s ever been, and the team decides it’s time to put the monster down for good. Whoever thinks this show was just ‘kiddie trash’ needs to be sat down and shown this two-parter, because GODDAMN. Ciro Nieli treated this with so much care and respect. I cannot help but adore the team who put this together because the stakes have been raised to an all-time high, and the final showdown between Shredder and the turtles here is hair-raising, all reaching its climax when Leonardo finishes Oroku Saki by beheading him. It’s powerful, it’s devastating, and it’s a damn excellent showcase of why this series was the best iteration of the franchise to date.

The Fourfold Trap ( Season 3 Ep. 23 ) Yet another homage to a horror movie, only this time it’s a lot more intense. Based on Saw, this episode makes you sit on the edge of your seat as you can only hope that the turtles will escape the traps Karai’s put them in. It’s all nerve wracking to watch on a first viewing experience, POOR DONNIE OH MY GOD, CAN WE STOP PUTTING THIS BOY IN ELECTROCUTION DEVICES???? He still manages to create a plan to save his brothers even while he’s being electrocuted! Also, SPLINTER IS BEST RAT DAD. This episode will teach you the meaning of ‘angsty dread’ and ‘overwhelming anxiety.’

Trans-Dimensional Turtles ( Season 4 Ep. 10 ) THE TURTLES FOREVER WE DESERVED BUT WE DIDN'T GET UNTIL CIRO NIELI HOOKED US UP WITH THE BEST CROSSOVER WE’VE EVER BEEN BLESSED WITH! The OG turtles are all so much fun to see again both in and out of 2D, Gilbert Godfried is always a delight, the 2012 turtles in traditional 2D animation is awesome, and ALL THE OG VOICE ACTORS ARE HERE AND CLEARLY HAVING THE TIMES OF THEIR LIVES. THE ROB PAULSEN JOKE IS LITERALLY A BLESSING XD I only wish it had been longer!

Honorable Mentions are Slash and Destroy, Pizza-Face, Within the Woods and Mutant Gangland!

And rounding it off is the last— but certainly not least— series, Rise!! I adore this one!! It’s right behind 2012 as my favorite TMNT series just for the stellar animation!! It’s such a shame that this one had to end so unfairly, but today I’m giving it the love it deserves!! Please note that I have yet to complete season two of ROTTMNT cuz my life has been crazy hectic and I haven’t had the time, but once I do, I’ll go back and update this section if I find more episodes I liked!

Raph’s Ride Along ( Season 2 Ep. 8A ) Ummmmmm the 2012 VA’s playing parody versions of their turtles as yokai criminals??? HELL YEAH. If only they got Astin to play a character though! Then we would’ve had a reverse Turtles Forever reunion! I came out of this episode really loving the Mud Dogz as characters and wanting more, especially Dastardly Danny cuz Rob Paulsen is always a win! Too bad this show got canned before we could really get to know these guys. BUT HEY! That’s what the fandom is for! 🤣

Insane in the Mama Train ( Season 1 Episode 25 ) When I watched this series blind, this episode blew my mind. Seeing something so well done had me screaming in joy with how expertly this episode was crafted. The stellar action choreography, the great comedic elements splashed in to lighten the tense mood, the ANIMATION OH MY LORD. Disney, take notes. And that ending leaves a pit in my stomach every time, like OOOOF, those expressions! That sudden tonal swap!

Mystic Library ( Season 1, Ep. 20A ) Probably my favorite comedy episode! The timing for the jokes in this one specifically is so well done, and every single one had me in tears. I’ve been trying to commit Donnie’s library rap to memory but alas, I’ve been failing.

The Clothes Don’t Make The Turtle ( Season 2 Episode 10B ) THIS. MORE OF THIS PRETTY PLEASE. It's just SO MUCH FUN. I really don’t have anything else to say other than this one is a great treat, also, the reanimated fan cut of this is spectacular!!

Snow Day ( Season 1 Ep. 23B ) This, for me, is the Christmas special of the series even though it’s in no way related to the holiday or has anything to do with it BUT I DON’T CARE LET ME DREAM. I love this one for the adorable interactions and the bonding! Seeing the characters goofing off and having fun, enjoying the weather and spending time together outside of the angst? I CRAVE FLUFF LIKE THIS.

And Tada! There it is! I hope you liked this!! It was tons of fun to compile all my favorite episodes into one project and share my thoughts! This fandom has been nothing but fantastic and I’m proud to be in it!

Thank you to all who have inspired me to keep going and pursue my dreams. You guys are great! @queen-with-the-quill @tending-the-hearth @wasted-and-ready @tmnt-tychou @mermmarie @figuringitoutasigoalong @lameboobah @zandiiangelspit @pumpkinpie59 @indieyuugure @angelicdavinci @imagine4000

And thank you to my IRL friends who have pulled me to my feet and supported me. Not only are you guys the best people I know, but I consider you guys family. You really saved me last year. I’m honored to call you my friends 💓

What are your favorite episodes?? Lemme know!! 😁 Maybe I’ll do a movie ranking next!

Cowabunga!! Have a great day!! 💚💚

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 1987 #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2012 #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #maddys ramblings #tmnt analysis

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emotionalcadaver · 7 months

Text

Part 19: In the Bleak Midwinter

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Grace Burgess x OC

Summary: Tommy’s doctor finally clears him for sex.

Word Count: 6,406

Notes: I’m so sorry it took me so long to come out with this. Job/internship hunting has been absolute hell and super draining of all my motivation lately. Warnings for depictions of smut.

Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

Previous Part • Next Part

Chapter 17: This is Love

“Tommy?” Lucy frowned up at him from her spot curled against his chest, head tilting in puzzlement.

He was staring at the spot right next to their bed, eyes wide and brows pinched together. Lucy glanced from him to the empty space, squinting in the darkness of the room but unable to make out anything–or anyone–there.

Looking back to him, she reached up to stroke his dark fringe from his face to get his attention, his eyes snapping to hers at the first brush of her fingertips like he’d just remembered she was there.

His eyes held that glazed over, not-quite-there look that she’d grown used to seeing when he was on the morphine. He’d had a bout of pain shortly before bed–enough to make him wince, jaw clenching as he fought to ignore it–and under her encouragement took a small dosage of the medicine so he could sleep. He was still trying to wean himself off of it, but on occasions like these, she figured it was better for him to find some relief from the discomfort rather than just suffer through an entire night of agony and sleeplessness.

“Are you alright?” she whispered.

“Mm…” he hummed, blinking so slowly for a moment she thought he’d just fallen asleep or passed out before he opened his eyes again. “Yeah. Sorry. Just thought I saw…” his eyes darted to the space next to their bed. “‘S nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Lucy tilted her head, curious. But he seemed so tired and out of it that she decided not to press any further.

“Okay,” she just said, stroking the back of his head gingerly, pulling him closer. Tommy snuggled against her happily, nestling in close with his arms around her and his face buried in her neck. “Try to sleep, love.”

“Hm…” he let out a deep, contented groan with his exhale, body slumping against hers. Lucy let her eyes dart one last time to the spot he’d been staring at, brows furrowing.

It was probably just an effect of the morphine. If there was anything or anyone in the room with them, Asher surely would have alerted them to it.

Contented with the thought, she closed her eyes, settling in against Tommy’s warmth.

By the time morning came, the incident was forgotten about entirely.

∗ ∗ ∗

Tommy knew that he was making the doctor nervous; staring him down sternly from his spot seated at the edge of the bed while he went about examining him. This was a new one. Apparently his regular doctor who’d been making the visits to the house to check in on him had some sort of family emergency he needed to tend to. So they’d sent this one instead. A nice enough man who clearly knew just enough about Tommy to know that he should be scared of him, but not enough to understand the intricate details of his personal situation. When he was introduced to Lucy at the door, his eyebrows had lifted, gaze shifting between the two of them while he tried–and failed–to hide his indignation at an unmarried woman living with a recently widowed man.

“Everything seems to be well in order,” the doctor said, having finished poking around the spot on Tommy’s head where they’d cut him open. The stitches were long gone, hair finally permitted to grow back where it had been shaved it away for the surgery and to keep an eye on the incisions.

Good thing, too. He’d looked ridiculous with a fucking bald spot in the middle of his head.

“I’d say only a few more weeks and you can consider yourself fully recovered,” the doctor continued, reaching into his pocket. “I’ve brought a fresh vial of morphine for you today,” he set it down on the nightstand.

Tommy frowned, jaw clenching as he eyed the vial warily, internally debating whether or not to tell the doctor of the unsettling images that sometimes passed across his open eyes after taking a dosage of the medicine. But after a moment’s consideration decided against it. The last thing he needed was anyone suggesting that he belonged in the loony bin because he was seeing visions of his housekeeper standing naked beside his bed. He hadn’t even told Lucy about that one, yet.

“But after this I’ll be discontinuing the prescription. Since you said your pain isn’t so bad anymore,” the doctor shot Tommy a nervous look. “You can always put in a request for more, should you need it.”

“Yes, that’s fine,” Tommy nodded, relieved. It was true that the pain wasn’t present enough anymore to really warrant taking the stuff. And visions aside, he hated how clouded it made his head feel.

A soft knock tapped at the door, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Come,” Tommy called, and the door opened, Lucy poking her head in. A red curl loosened from where it was tucked behind her ear, the deep crimson all the more emphasized against the paleness of her freckled cheek.

“Sorry to bother you. Ada’s here.”

Tommy beckoned for her to step deeper into the room. “We were just finishing.”

Ada had started coming over for dinner once a week to visit and check in on him. Of all of the family outside of Lucy, she was the one he’d seen the most of. Arthur and John had only swung by a handful of times, and Polly hadn’t come to visit at all.

Not entirely surprising. She would probably be avoiding both of them for as long as she could get away with. That was all right; he wasn’t in a particular mood to see her yet either, considering what she’d done. Accidental as her fuck up may have been; it still stung.

But he was appreciative of Ada’s continued, consistent presence. Something had shifted, ever since Grace’s death. And not just between him and his sister, but between her and Lucy, too; Ada had softened considerably around her. Tommy would almost dare to say that they’d grown friendly.

He was glad. Lucy needed more friends.

The doctor cleared his throat, straightening his back and closing the file he’d been making notes in.

“Well, Mr. Shelby, unless you have any other concerns, I am prepared to clear you for most physical activities. I understand that you are an avid equestrian. You are well enough to start that up again, should you like. Though I do advise you to take care. If you were to fall and hit your head again it could interfere with the progress you’ve made in your recovery.”

Tommy shot him a stern, mildly offended look, unable to hide his irritation at the suggestion that he was prone to falling off his horses. The doctor sputtered, realizing too late his verbal misstep, and began to hastily stuff his papers back into his briefcase. Tommy tried not to take too much satisfaction in the shakiness he noted in the man’s hands as he snapped the briefcase closed and took hold of the handle.

Gaze shifting from glowering at the doctor, Tommy met Lucy’s deep green eyes from where she was still standing across the room by the door. She tilted her head, eyes darting from him, to the doctor, then back to him. She raised one single, carefully plucked eyebrow, an impishness entering her features that was practically contagious; a smirk pulling at the corner of one side of his lips before he could stop himself.

“What about sex?” Tommy asked with no preamble, snapping his gaze back to the doctor. The man turned scarlet, fumbling with and nearly dropping his briefcase. Tommy had to battle with his smirk to keep it from growing at the reaction, leaning back with his hands planted on either side of him and meeting the flustered doctor’s gaze head on, both eyebrows raised expectantly.

“O-oh. Well…” for a heartbeat, he looked away from Tommy to Lucy. She met his eyes steadily, impish smile still settled on her lips, unflinching and unashamed. The doctor’s blush deepened, looking back at Tommy. Keeping his features carefully controlled; Tommy allowed a silent challenge to slide onto his face, daring the doctor to say anything confrontational or disapproving. Finally, stuttering a few more times, the doctor managed to find his voice. “That would…that would fall under physical activities, I suppose, so…um…erm…well, I…yes,” he finally managed to get out. “Yes, that should be fine.”

Tommy looked back at Lucy from over the doctor’s shoulder. She’d pressed her knuckles to her lips to try to hide her smile, but when she caught him looking at her, she dropped her hand, face alight with anticipatory excitement. Tommy looked her up and down hungrily. As had grown typical during their time at home, she’d forgone her usual suit jacket, leaving her in just a pair of trousers and a snugly fitting black waistcoat pulled over her white button down shirt. The waistcoat nicely hugged the curves of her breasts and the dip in her waist, meeting the waistband of her slacks where her hips flared out. Tommy felt his throat go dry at the memory of squeezing those hips while propping her up against the nearest suitable surface, her hands clutching at his shoulders or tracing along the back of his head to pull him closer while he thrusted and she moaned.

Fuck, he couldn’t wait to get his hands on her.

Based on the way her face had changed whilst he stared at her; eyes darkening and lips parting slightly, he knew that she shared the sentiment.

Considering how bloody long it had been, the doctor was probably lucky they didn’t jump on each other then and there right in front of him.

“Thank you for coming, doctor,” Lucy said, though her eyes kept darting back to Tommy’s as if pulled by an invisible string. Tommy didn’t bother glancing at the doctor again, only grunting in acknowledgement at the man’s stuttered pleasantries. Lucy ushered him out the door with a polite smile. “Mary will see you out,” she told him once he was in the hall, gesturing to where Tommy assumed Mary was hovering nearby to escort the man from the house.

Rising from his seat while she closed the door, Tommy strode across the room towards her. Just as the latch clicked into place she turned, facing him again, and he was almost knocked off balance by the warm excitement in her eyes. It lit her entire features, gaze soft and cheeks adorably flushed just the slightest shades of pink.

He couldn’t have wanted her more if he’d tried.

Capturing the back of her head with one large palm, he rested the other on her hip, pulling her closer and crashing his mouth down onto hers. Her small hands fisted in the front of his shirt, mouth opening to his with a small moan. Growling, Tommy wasted no time sliding his tongue into her mouth, the feeling of her breasts pressing against his chest making his head spin while her arms circled around his neck, holding tight as they kissed.

The hand on her hip roamed, first running over the curves of her waist before circling around to squeeze a handful of her ass. At the same time, Lucy’s fingertips stroked along the sensitive back of his head, fluttering around the nape of his neck, and he made a whining noise that under other circumstances he would’ve been embarrassed by. But his brain wasn’t anywhere close to functioning properly at the moment; blood rushing south to pool in his cock. Any coherent thoughts he might have been capable of had all fallen right out of his head.

“Mm…” he wasn’t even aware of walking them backwards until her back met the edge of a dresser. The small moan she released against his lips instead held his full attention, pulling away from her mouth only so he could pepper eager kisses across her cheekbone and down along her neck. She smelled of roses, smoke, and vanilla, the scent almost fully enveloping him when he pushed his face into her neck. Lucy sighed, hand tangling gently into his hair, and with both hands planted on her waist he lifted her up, settling her onto the dresser with his thigh slotting between her opened legs while he sucked at her throat until her voice raised a pitch.

Tugging lightly on his hair, she pulled his face back up to hers, kissing him again fervently while he started to roll his hips forward, rutting his clothed cock against her. That, combined with pressing his thigh more firmly against her so she would have something solid to grind on, earned him a moan. Repeating the motion got him another, and soon they were grinding feverishly against one another, Tommy caressing and kissing every inch of her he could get to. But when he reached for the clasp on her trousers she made a sound of protest and pulled her mouth away from his, giggling and turning her head away when he tried to follow her.

“Tommy,” she rested both palms flat against his chest, leaning back to look at him. Ceasing his movements, he fought back a whine, keeping her held securely in his arms. Lucy sighed, dropping her head forward to rest against his collarbone. “Your sister is waiting for us downstairs.”

Tommy blinked. He’d completely forgotten about Ada; too ecstatic at the thought of finally being able to have sex with Lucy again that everything else might as well have entirely evaporated. Blinking slowly, he tried to right his mind, not at all helped by the fact that she was still rubbing circles into the spot where his neck met his back.

Groaning, perhaps a touch overdramatically, he let his head fall forward to rest against her shoulder. Lucy chuckled, wrapping her arms around him.

“We’ve managed to hold out for this long. I think we can survive getting through dinner.”

He grumbled, even though he knew that she was right, and she pecked her smiling lips to his temple, giving him one final, greatly unfair squeeze with her leg where it had wound around his waist before pushing him not unkindly back a few steps so she could hop off the dresser. Patting down her hair, she then smoothed her small palms over his chest, trying to rid his shirt of the creases they’d created. He halfheartedly readjusted her waistcoat for her, raising an eyebrow when he took notice of the way her hands lingered on his chest. Head tilting up, she pecked him quickly on the lips, then pulled back and swiped her thumb along where he was assuming she’d left a lipstick smudge on him. His hand cradled the side of her head, feeling the ridiculous softness of her hair and the warmth of her cheek.

“We make it quick,” he said simply. Lucy huffed.

“We can’t be rude to Ada, Tommy.”

“I could tell the chef to skip a few courses.”

Lucy shot him a glare. “You take away my desserts, Shelby, and you can enjoy the company of your hand this evening.”

He felt himself pale a little. His own fault, really. He’d known Lucy long enough to know not to get between her and her cakes. “I didn’t…okay, fine, just–”

Lucy snickered, stroking his jaw. “I’m kidding. Mostly. We’ll eat fast. Limit the small talk,” she was dangerously close to him considering that his self-control was barely hanging on by a thread. “She’ll be out of here before we know it,” and then, because apparently she loved torturing him, she pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw. Closing his eyes with a small sound, he battled back the desire to grab her and toss her onto the bed he’d been seated on just moments ago.

“Yeah,” it came out as a rough rasp, “We should go downstairs,” before I pounce on you again. Lucy nodded, but it wasn’t lost on him how her breath seemed to catch in her throat, gaze flickering over him, tongue darting out to wet her lips.

“Right,” she seemed to shake herself from whatever admiring daze she’d briefly fallen into. His entire body ached in protest when she took a step away from him and he cleared his throat as he reached down to adjust himself in his trousers. Lucy giggled, and he shot her a look.

“Is my suffering amusing to you?”

That just made her laugh again. “We’re suffering together, love. You think I’m not aching too?” that impish smile was back, brow quirked mischievously as she reached out to take his hand. Tommy groaned and closed his eyes.

“You can’t say things like that right now.”

She snickered, squeezing his fingers and beginning to lead him to the door. Tommy sighed, following her out into the hall.

She was right. They’d survived countless meals without jumping on each other since they’d been home. Surely they could survive one more.

Of his own accord, his eyes trailed down her body, to stare at the way her hips swayed when she walked, and he sighed.

This was going to be the longest bloody dinner of his entire fucking life.

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy couldn’t help but feel a little bad as she watched Tommy usher Ada out the door, Ada’s expression somewhat baffled at his seemingly overeagerness to shoo her from the house.

Dinner had been lovely. Or, it would have been, had she not spent so much of it trying very hard to think about anything but what Tommy was going to be doing to her later; images of his head buried between her thighs, or the sounds of his growls when he thrust, kept cycling on a loop in her mind, not helped by the heated looks he kept shooting her from across the table.

“Say bye-bye to Auntie Ada, Charlie,” she said to the boy where he was settled heavily in her arms, his head resting on her chest, already half asleep.

“Bye, Charlie,” Ada smiled at him.

“Bye, Auntie Ada,” he managed in his high little voice. Ada chuckled, giving him a kiss on the forehead before hugging Lucy with one arm.

“It was good to see you,” Lucy said. Undesirable as the timing might have been, she was enjoying getting to see more of Ada.

“You too,” Ada beamed, stepping back to let Tommy guide her the remainder of the way outside, the pair mumbling their goodbyes and hugging before Ada stepped into her car. Lucy waved to her from the doorway as the Bentley started to drive off into the night. Tommy watched her go, hands stuffed into his pockets, before turning on his heel and heading back inside the house. Watching him shut and lock the door, she adjusted Charlie in her arms.

“It was a nice visit,” she commented. Tommy grunted in a way she knew not to be dismissive but simply in agreement. “At least things have been relatively peaceful while you’ve recovered.”

Or maybe they just weren’t informing them of any problems because Lucy had told them to leave them the fuck alone. But she figured that if there were any massive fuckups they would have inevitably heard about it by now.

Charlie let out a tiny snore against her neck, and she snorted, craning her head to look affectionately at him. He adored Ada, and was always so excited when she came around. But that excitement always seemed to leave him exhausted.

Probably a good thing. Hopefully he would sleep through the entire night.

Tommy reached out to caress his cheek, smiling softly. “I can put him to bed, if you’d like,” he offered.

“Okay,” it took some careful maneuvering to transfer Charlie to Tommy without waking him, but the boy barely stirred, just snuggled up against Tommy’s chest without even a sound.

Not that Lucy could blame him. She knew from experience just how comfy Tommy’s chest was, after all.

“I need to take Asher out,” she said. “Then I’ll come up to bed.”

She could see the desire nearly overtake Tommy’s features, Adam’s apple bobbing while he swallowed.

“Don’t take too long,” his voice had dropped an octave. Lucy nodded, fingers fiddling with her rings in an attempt to get her mind to focus on anything other than just how badly she wanted him to touch her.

“I won’t.”

He gave her a swift peck on the forehead before heading towards the stairs with Charlie. Every booming step against the floor seemed to do nothing but serve as a reminder to her hormone-drenched mind of the power and strength within that body; how he could scoop her up and toss her around without barely any effort at all–

Giving her head a firm shake to try to dislodge her thoughts, she whistled for Asher, waiting until he’d bounded up to her side before heading to open the door. Watching him race about a few times before pissing on a tree, she crossed her arms over her chest, shoulder leaning against the doorway, keeping the heavy wood propped open.

“Asher,” she called, whistling when he began to wander across the lawn. The huge black shepherd glanced over his shoulder at her, tail wagging. “Come on, boy.”

He shot across the lawn towards her, but a black streak against the grass, barely skidding to a stop in front of her in time before he would have smacked into her legs. Ushering him inside, she got a bone from the maids for him to gnaw on, coaxing him to lay in one of the dog beds they kept in the various sitting rooms.

“Good boy,” she said, prompting a swish of his fluffy tail as she gave him a final scratch behind the ears. Pulling away, she half jogged up the stairs and down the hall to her shared bedroom with Tommy.

He wasn’t there yet when she opened the door and stepped in, so she busied herself removing the simple golden rings she wore on her fingers and the little gold hoops in her ears, dropping them carefully into her jewelry box. Shucking off her waistcoat, which she folded carefully over the chair in front of her vanity, she was left in just her button-down and slacks, examining herself in the mirror with her teeth worrying at her bottom lip. A sudden rush of giddiness flooded over her, and she fumbled to try to fix her hair, the unruly curls stubborn and uncooperative in her attempts to smooth them down.

It was then that the bedroom door crashed open, and she barely had enough time to turn around to face Tommy before he had kicked the door shut behind him, strode across the room, and pulled her into the circle of his arms, his mouth colliding down onto hers with the desperation of someone who’d gone days without water and was finally offered a drink.

Arms wrapping around him instantaneously, Lucy parted her lips to his, swallowing the deep groan of relief he released from his throat.

Ever since their first night back home, there had been a voice in the back of her head, reminding her with every brush of lips, every touch, that they needed to be careful not to get carried away. That she needed to remember the importance of self restraint.

And her self restraint had been monumentous. It took nearly everything she had not to climb him like a tree on the days he decided to walz around the house in just a close fitting shirt and well tailored slacks. Just the subtle shifting and clenching of his jaw was enough to have her practically drooling. But the nights were the hardest; curled beside him, her in just a thin nightgown and him in only his boxers, their bodies entangled–even if they tried to sleep in the same bed without touching they always would wake up snuggled against one another–and it took everything in her not to angle her head up to kiss his throat or slide her hand into his shorts.

But now that voice was banished and silenced; its presence no longer necessary.

She intended to absolutely gorge herself on him.

Tommy’s hands shifted where they were wrapped around her to instead grip her shirt with both hands. In one sudden movement, the fabric ripped, and buttons went flying, clattering and rolling along the floor in every direction. Lucy moaned at the action, tattered remains of the shirt falling to the floor, and when her fingers slid into his hair he made a sound that went straight to her core, thighs squeezing together needily.

Scrambling to get him out of his own shirt, her head tilted back, eyes fluttering closed when he broke their kiss to instead press his lips along her jaw, then down her throat. He slipped off her bra expertly, hands moving to cup both her breasts the moment that they were freed to the cool air. At the first stroke of his thumbs over her hardened nipples she whimpered, finally managing to shove his shirt to the floor, running her hands hungrily across his warm, bare skin.

“Lucy,” he whispered, pulling his face from where it was settled in the crook of her neck, forehead leaning against hers. His smokey breath fanned out warmly against her cheeks, chest rising up and down rapidly beneath her palms.

“Please,” she could feel herself growing wetter by the minute, nearly trembling with desire. He kissed her again, hands falling to her hips, rubbing circles into the skin of her waist before he started to fumble with her belt. The metal clinked, like a delicate percussion to accompany the melody of their heavy breathing and desperate moans.

“I want you…” Tommy groaned, nipping at her shoulder and then soothing the sting of his bite with a swipe of his tongue. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone so badly before…”

“That’s because…because..hah–” she cut herself off briefly with a gasp when he drew her close enough that she could feel the massive bulge in his trousers pressing into her stomach. “That’s ‘cos you’ve never had to go so long without sex before,” she finally got out. Tommy raised his head, swiping away a few locks of hair that had fallen into her face and looking at her seriously.

“No. It’s not just ‘cos of that,” he said sternly, thumb rubbing along her cheek. Lucy felt her cheeks warm at the sudden deep love she saw in his eyes, glancing away bashfully and stuttering. Tommy chuckled, curling two fingers under her chin to tilt her head up so he could kiss her again, and with the fastenings on her trousers fully loosened he used both hands to push them down off of her hips to pool around her ankles. Stepping out of fabric, she cupped the side of his face with one hand, lightly scratching the nails of the other down his bicep.

A growl rumbled low in Tommy’s chest, and that was all it took to have her fumbling with his belt, yanking it near violently until it finally came loose. And then he was helping her to shove down his trousers, still kissing her as he gripped her hips and lifted her up, carrying her the short distance to the bed. Arms braced on either side of her, he dropped on top of her the moment her back hit the mattress, kissing her twice more on the lips before migrating his mouth to her neck, tongue gliding over the spot he knew made her breath hitch.

He was everywhere; on top of and around her, and yet she still wanted him closer. She traced her fingers along his chest, over his powerful shoulders, then down his back, enjoying the feeling of his muscles flexing in response to her touch.

When he rolled his hips against hers, erection only separated from her by the thin fabric of her knickers and his boxers, she nearly collapsed in on herself. Her legs trembled where they had crossed over his waist when he first picked her up, core spasming around nothing.

“Mm…” Tommy rocked his hips forward again, grinding against her desperately.

“Please,” she choked out again, fingers splaying out at the base of his head, the shorter part of his hair tickling her palm. “Tommy, please. Please, please, please…”

He lifted his head, wetting his lips while his eyes swept over her whole body, making her shiver, his pupils blown so wide there was barely any blue left at all.

“You begging me, love?” he asked. The warmth of his hand against her thigh made her jump, big fingers stroking delicately over the sensitive skin.

She nodded frantically. “Yeah. Yes,” any and all shame had died within her the moment he stepped into the room and pulled her into his arms.

He groaned, mouth falling back to hers, as if he couldn’t stand to not be kissing her. Both of his hands rubbed up and down her thighs, then curled around the material of her knickers. With a sudden yank he ripped them right off her, tossing the ruined scrap of fabric away.

“I liked those,” she somehow found enough mental capacity to lament their death, words mumbled into Tommy’s mouth.

“I’ll buy you some new ones,” he promised, just before his tongue slid against hers and silenced all other conversation. Not that she would have probably been able to get any other words out anyway, because he chose that moment to swipe his fingers through her wetness, and any form of higher communication she might have been capable of was replaced by a loud whimper. His thumb circled lightly over her clit, giving her just the slightest of brushes, and she grabbed tightly onto his bicep, squeezing.

“I’m ready, I’m ready,” she chanted. Much as she would love to let him stretch her around his fingers or bury his face between her thighs, there would be time for that later. Right now she needed his cock.

Clearly Tommy agreed, pulling back–earning a whine in response from her–and sitting up to shove his white boxers down, kicking them off and taking his engorged cock in hand. Lucy bit her lip, watching him give himself a few pumps, eyelids lowering and mouth falling open while his gaze swept over her, lingering on her heaving breasts and glistening cunt. His cock was flushed, precum already dribbling from the tip, the head nearly purple. Had he not been situated between her thighs she would have rubbed them together at the sight.

“Tommy,” she was so desperate she actually felt like she was on the verge of tears. He shushed her tenderly, stretching his body back out on top of hers, their foreheads meeting as he got himself situated.

“I’m right here,” he soothed, kissing her temple and nuzzling at her hair. “Sure you’re ready?” he asked, voice a husky rasp that nearly turned her insides to goo. He was always so worried about accidentally hurting her.

“Yes, yes, I’m sure,” she nodded, arms going around him, trying to pull him closer. Tommy shifted, swiping his hard cock through her wetness, eyes glinting wickedly when he purposely bumped the head against her swollen clit. Her head fell back against the pillows with a groan.

“If you tease me right now, I swear to fucking God–” she complained. He laughed, nose bumping hers affectionately, and with one quick movement lined himself up and pushed in entirely with one deep roll of his hips. Her loud, reverberating cry echoed throughout the room, joined with his deep groan as he bottomed out, hips flush to hers.

Sweeping her hair back and cupping the side of her face, Tommy’s thumb rubbed at her cheek until she looked at him, not even aware she had closed her eyes.

“Okay?” he asked. From the slight strain in his voice she knew that it was probably taking everything he had in him not to start slamming into her with abandon. But his concern for her wellbeing came first.

The thought of that was enough to make her heart flutter.

Covering his hand with hers, she nodded. Their fingers interlaced, pressing into the mattress next to her head, foreheads together and eyes locked.

And then Tommy started to thrust.

“Yes,” she all but sobbed in relief, other hand clamping onto his shoulder for purchase. Tommy made a strangled noise, eyes rolling in his head, back muscles tensing. The stretch was incredible, thick length pushing her nearly to her limits, so deeply in her she thought for a moment he might rearrange her guts. No doubt she would be sore come morning, but she didn’t care.

“Fuck,” Tommy groaned, pulling out nearly to the tip and slamming back in to the hilt. “Fuck, I’m not gonna last.”

“That’s okay,” she could feel a telltale tingling beginning to build between her legs with his cock rubbing up right against her g-spot with every shift. “That’s okay. Me neither.”

He kissed her, the next thrust triggering her to moan deeply into his mouth, nails raking over his back, just enough to lightly scratch. His growl made his chest rumble where it was pressed against hers, and then they were off.

Their thrusts were deep and hard, her hips meeting his with every one. He kept kissing her, the movements of his lips and tongue mimicking the slow depth of his thrusts. Wrapping her legs around him, Lucy squeezed him as close as possible. The only sound in the room was their combined moans, the rattling of the bed frame, and the slap of skin meeting skin. It was animalistic but tender. Passionate and sweaty.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Tommy mumbled, kissing from her lips to along her jaw and down her throat. The hand not squeezing hers had found her breast, pinching and rolling her nipple between his fingers.

“Fuck, I missed this,” she sighed out, legs tightening further around him as he gave her a particularly deep thrust. Tommy groaned in agreement, sucking marks into her neck. She could feel his cock starting to throb, and in the next moment his hand was between her legs, fingers at her clit.

She wailed when he started to rub the sensitive nub in concentrated circles, back arching off the bed. Tommy made a low purring sound at the response, increasing his movements. Fucking her faster. Grinding her hips upwards, she scrabbled at his back and shoulders for purchase, core fluttering around him as her orgasm built.

“Yes,” Tommy hissed out, erection swelling. “Yes, give it to me, Luce,” his thumb pressed against her more insistently, thrusts angled to ensure he was massaging her g-spot with every stroke. “Come for me, love.”

He only needed to thrust into her a handful more times, maintaining continued pressure on her clit, and she screamed as her walls clamped down around him in a vice grip, gushing out around him while she clung to him so tightly it was like she was trying to meld them into one being. While a thunderous roar, Tommy followed her right over the edge, hips bucking forward, sheathing himself fully and then holding himself in place as his cock twitched and spasmed, emptying into her almost violently.

Gasping, breaths heaving and labored in her chest, Lucy drew him in closer still, their foreheads touching. Tommy’s eyes were open wide, staring at her so intensely she swore he was peering into her mind. His full lips parted, a deep groan emitting from his throat, hips jerking lightly as he kept coming, another huge rush of seed filling her. Lucy’s eyes widened. He always had big loads, but this was something else entirely. There was so much it soon started to overflow, seeping out from around where he was still buried inside her. The feeling of being so thoroughly filled only served to prolong her own orgasm, walls squeezing around him and making him groan, cock twitching in a few final pulses of cum before they both finally went still.

Breathing slowly returning to normal, Lucy stroked a hand through Tommy’s slightly sweaty hair, his face dropping to burrow against her neck as he caught his breath.

“Fuck…” she breathed out, pecking a kiss to the side of his head.

“I don’t think I’ve ever come that much in my life,” Tommy groaned. Giggling, Lucy squeezed him, nuzzling at him until he lifted his head, kissing her softly before raising himself off of her. They both winced a little when he pulled out; their combined releases spilling out of her and onto the sheets.

She made a mental note that they should probably consider increasing their maids’ wages.

Rolling off of her to splay out in the space beside her, Tommy half scooped her into his arms, chuckling at the little yelp she let out when he drew her into his chest. Angling her head up at him, he kissed her, and for a moment there was nothing else in the world to her but the warm press of his soft lips and his strong arms around her.

When they separated he didn’t go far, keeping their foreheads touching while he caressed her cheek.

“Hi.”

She giggled again, kissing his nose and taking note of the slight color that entered his cheeks at the affectionate gesture. “Hi.”

His thumb massaged along her cheekbone, eyes darting over her face as if he were trying to memorize her. Rubbing her palm up and down his chest, Lucy cocked her head.

“You alright?”

“Mm. Never better, love,” he cradled the back of her head, guiding her face back to his for another kiss. This one deeper, his tongue tangling with hers. She couldn’t stop the grin that spread across her face at the sudden pressure of his reawoken cock against her thigh.

“Mm…again?” she asked, blinking up at him in faux innocence. Tommy just shot her a smirk, and with his hands on her hips to help guide her, she shifted to prop herself up in his lap.

“We have a lot of time to make up for,” he started to kiss her shoulder, letting his lips trail further down until he was taking one of her nipples into his mouth. Shuddering, she petted the back of his head before reaching down, and guiding him back inside of her.

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

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#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #peaky blinders #lucy winters #lucy winters x tommy shelby #my ocs #my fanfiction #in the bleak midwinter

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that1emowitch · 6 months

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Villain - Chapter 6: Arkham Knight

Chapter links: Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch.3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch.6

Summary:

Jason escapes Arkham on his own and starts planning out his villain arc.

A/N

Guys just so you know, Jason in this timeline is actually Red Hood, but I'm just using the persona of Arkham Knight as Jay's villain self. He's not gonna do the things AK!Jason did.

Pov of Jason Todd, about a few hours after the last chapter.

I don’t want to go to lunch. Some part of me just wants to let me starve. If I’m going to die again, I’d rather it be on my terms than because the Rogue Gallery beat me to death. But the guards drag me there anyway.

A more rational side of me knows lunch is my best chance to escape.

Not that I have much of a chance anyway. Even with my enhanced healing from the Pit, it’d take me at least a few days of rest to completely recover.

Good thing I don’t have to completely recover for my plan to work.

When the guards force me onto a seat in the canteen and shove a plate of slop in front of me, I take a look around. As expected, all the Rogues coming in are looking at me, but they’re still being escorted by their guards. Right now, they can’t really harm me much.

This is my chance.

I suddenly throw my elbows back, catching both my escort guards in their groins, and quickly snatch a gun and card. A few bullets shoot towards me, but I dodge and make for the doorway. There are a huge number of guards coming after me, with reinforcements on the way, but the two dozen or so guards escorting other inmates, according to standard procedure, are stuck bringing their charges back to their cells so they don’t try to escape either. I can sense another fight going on, between Bane and the guards, but I pay it no mind.

Instead, I make my way out of the door, straight to the locker room where I’m certain all my equiptment’s locked up. I’m running purely on adrenaline, ignoring my legs screaming in agony. I shoot every damn person in my way, making full use of my League training, until I find myself in the locker room. I barricade the door behind me, making sure no one can follow.

The alarms blaring are now being accompanied by the sound of the whole place being locked down, but it’s nothing a few bombs couldn’t solve.

I find my equipment soon enough and quickly suit up. As I pull on my jacket and helmet, I suddenly feel much less claustrophobic, like the familiarity of the suit is granting me safety.

Obviously, they don’t just leave bombs lying around in Arkham, but they haven’t found those hidden in my helmet. My trusty guns are gone, I’ll have to make do without them.

It takes me less than a second to blow up the wall. I feel the fresh, cool air, and immediately start running in the direction of the wall surrounding the prison. For some reason, there aren’t as many guards around me as I expected. That’s when I see huge plants breaking away at a wall in the distance, with an armada of guards fighting them, but I don’t wait around to find out what’s going on.

What happens next feels like a blur— like I’m relying completely on my instincts to get me to safety. I’m vaguely aware of killing a few guards, blowing up another wall, stealing a car, driving to my safe house, then collapsing on the floor.

When I wake up I’m lying in a dried pool of my own blood. Seeing that jerks me awake instantly. My wounds mostly seem to have healed, but I can see a bullet wound I’ll have to reopen to dig the bullet out.

Fuck.

The memories come back to me in a wave— Batman putting me in Arkham, the Rogues, the J— NO!

I lean against a nearby chair, pulling myself up and shaking the thoughts ut of my head.

First things first. I need to clean up. This is a fucking mess. And I need to know the date.

I check my phone— I’ve been unconscious for 2 days. That’s two days wasted. Quietly scolding myself, I move to clean up the area, getting it done in a matter of minutes.

My stomach’s growling, but my thoughts are elsewhere— the Batman. Bruce. The man who pretended to be my father, then replaced me the moment I was gone, didn’t even bother to avenge me. When I came back he pretended to love me again, just to throw me out the moment I broke his precious rule. Him and his little nest of birds. All fakers.

I slam my fist down on the counter, making a slight dent. I hate them.

I need a plan, I decide. The last time I did this, I made Bruce choose between me and the Joker. He chose the fucking Joker over me! That should’ve been my sign to get far, far away from this shitshow.

“You’re not leaving Gotham,” I whisper to myself. “There’s too many people here who need the Red Hood— the kids , Jason, think about the kids! ”

A snort escapes me as I realise I’m talking to myself. I really have gone crazy, haven’t I?

“You need your revenge,” I continue anyway. Talking out loud, for some reason, makes me feel less alone . “Something to make sure the Bats never haunt you again.”

There’s only one sureshot way to guarantee that, but another voice, deep in my mind whispers, No! We’re not killing them.

For some reason, I agree. But there are other ideas I have. I pull out a notebook from one of my hidden drawers and start scribbling down a name: Arkham Knight.

Arkham’s what started this phase in my life, it should get some credit.

Maybe Batsy will finally get a villain worthy of him.

#ao3 fanfic #jason todd #red hood #dick grayson #tim drake #jayroy #roy harper #batfam #batman #fanfic

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daisy-mooon · 9 months

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Spark

Whumptober 2023 Day 4: Cattle prod

Apollo sprinted as fast as his legs could carry him, lunging for the griffins. Calypso sat upon the female, her arms locked reassuringly around her neck, and Meg was perched anxiously on the male, all but screeching at him to hurry up, when something struck his back and he fell cleanly onto the ground.

It took him a moment to realise what it was between the stabbing, sparks of pain that set his entire body alight in familiar agony. Something he’d only briefly glanced at, something that should have been kept in the shadowed corner of the enclosure, something that should have never been used on any of the furiously anxious animals locked behind the glass let alone be in sight of them - a cattle prod.

His head was achingly warm against the sandy ground, and his eyes watered as dust swept into his face. Distantly, Apollo was aware that Meg had broken out screaming. Calypso was yelling. He could see and hear nothing of Litreyses, but he could feel something cold and metallic prick carefully at his shoulder blades, pressing his limp form firmly into the floor, before electricity wept through his spine.

The world around him turned into a haze - it wasn’t that Apollo couldn’t see it, it was that he was physically incapable of processing the world around him. With his face in the floor, there wasn’t a lot that he could see anyway.

There was one, particularly loud cry from Calypso before he heard something huge move, before he heard the footsteps of Germani, before he heard the flapping of wings, before Meg’s wails grew more and more distant before drifting into nothingness. In some far-removed part of his mind, he allowed himself to feel relieved that she had escaped. She’d been through enough already. But still, he'd just gotten her back, he'd just gotten to see her again-

His thoughts were cut off as the prod reignited - he’d been so dazed that he didn’t even realise that it had stopped in the first place. A fresh scream tore from his lips and he mustered up only a single twitch in defence. Out of all the weapons Lityerses could have used, he had chosen to weaponise electricity. He was a master swordsman with a sword, for the love of the gods, and chose the one thing-

It buzzed again. The sparks were thick and suffocating, like being skewered by a million arrows at once. It was burning, consuming-

A pause. A relief. His skull was numb against the floor, and he let it stay there.

“I thought we were going to kill him.” The Germani were arguing with Lityerses now, no doubt some wanting revenge for their wounds, others wanting to bring him back to Commodus and get their mission over with. Apollo tried to flex his hand to see if there was any way he could try and fight back against the next weapon. His fingers barely moved.

“Well, I was.” A boot made contact with his head, nudging it in a way that wasn’t really rough, but definitely wasn’t gentle. Even that managed to hurt. “But the other two escaped with the griffins, and Commodus was very insistent on having Apollo to start with. I’d rather bring him something than nothing at all.”

Commodus wanted him? That… could mean a whole plethora of things-

“No, I don’t know what he wants with Apollo beyond making sure that he stops messing with the Triumvirate. Something about bathtubs? I didn’t ask.”

…So it meant something that would probably result in his death. That was… that was great.

“Maybe Apollo knows.” One of the Germani suggested, before helpfully kicking him in the ribs. He coughed in a way that was dry and cracked and full of pain. Had he broken his ribs? It would certainly explain the horrific burst of pain that flooded through him-

The cattle prod stabbed back into him without warning. He screamed again, something that completely drowned out the sound around him. At any other time, he would have been grateful to receive a fraction of his voice back, but now? Surrounded by Imperial guards that were intent on capturing and torturing him? It did nothing but remind him of how utterly helpless he was.

Tears beaded out into the corners of his eyes and he clenched them shut, determined not to give the Germani, determined not to give Lityerses, any more satisfaction in his suffering then he could help. That idea was lost to him as it lifted for an aching moment of relief, before pressing gently into the flesh of his neck.

None of the guards laughed at him for the sob that rattled through him. Or at least he didn't think they did. It was hard to hear when his entire being was racked with agony, had been even when he was a god. He felt himself begin to teeter on the edge of unconsciousness.

It stopped briefly as someone began to yank his arms behind his back and clamped something cold and hard around his wrists, then began again as his hands were dropped back onto them. Apollo couldn't cry out this time, throat too choked and strained to make out anything coherent, and he let out a thick, strangled gurgle. It stopped again as similar cold things- no, they were manacles of some sort- were locked around his ankles. He tried to push his leg, tried to kick whoever was restraining him, and his body went alight with pain in retaliation. No matter how many times sparks were forced into his veins for doing something wrong, he'd never get used too it.

"That's enough." Lityerses called from the side. It stopped. Had he not been the one electrocuting him? "We need to get him out of here before the zoo opens."

"One more?"

"Well, Apollo isn't stopping you."

He felt cool metal press against the top of his skull, and lost all connection to reality as the pain hit him.

His body hurt.

Someone was dragging him across the ground.

Something metal poked him and he twitched in fear, terrified of the cattle prods return-

The light around him burnt into an intense, glowing fury. It wasn't the warn rays of his sun, or the cool shine of his sisters moon, but harsh and blunt and interrogative.

He swore he could hear laughter.

Apollo woke up, cold, sore and aching.

Every part of him screamed as he opened his eyes, protesting the torture they had been through- what, hours before? Days? He wasn't sure. He didn't know if he had a clock, wherever he was, and he didn't know if he had the strength to look at it even if there was one.

Right... where was he?

His eyes had opened but he hadn't bothered to look, too distant from his own body to concentrate. As he forced himself to focus, his nerves protesting even louder as he became fully aware of his body, he saw the plainest of surroundings. Fluorescent lights. Uniform white walls. A polished marble floor. The room was adorned in a golden trim. He attempted to draw comfort in the colour, a similar colour to his bow, but it left him feeling hollow and empty.

The room was plain, yet elegant. There were no shadows at all, no dark spaces to hide and retreat into, and the intensity of the brightness convinced his eyes to ache with the rest of him. It was with this exposure that Apollo then became acutely aware that he was lying down in a hollowed out section of the floor, the perfect space for a human to lie down in. The perfect size for a large, luxurious bathtub

Oh.

Apollo writhed, attempting to pull himself out of it immediately, but the manacles that had been pressed against him earlier kept him immobile against the freezing stone. He started to notice things around him. The fact that the top of the bathtub-like mound was taller than his head could reach. One golden, tap-like pipe at each end. The concerning lack of a drain. And, perhaps most importantly, the opening of a door.

From his point in the floor, he couldn't see who entered. But judging by the slow, dramatic pace, he had a rather good guess as to who.

Commodus walked all the way from the door behind his head, to the end of the bathtub where his feet were shackled. He looked- he wanted to say that he looked hideous, but he couldn't. He looked stunning, like every part of the New Hercules he claimed to be. And Apollo hated it.

"Hello, Apollo." His eyes glittered in the light. They were pretty, in the way a wolf's eyes were pretty before it leapt forward to rip your throat out. What he wouldn't do to be surrounded by his sacred animal right now. "It's been quite a while now, hasn't it?"

"...Commmodus." He hated how silky his voice was whilsy his own broke in anticipating terror. He hated how incomparably gorgeous he looked. He hated how he wanted to kiss him. These were not thoughts he should be having right as he was most likely about to kill him.

His head tilted to the side and drank the sight of him in, lingering at the parts he supposed were desirable. Apollo then became intensely aware that he was still very much in the body of a teenager, and any all of his attraction was replaced by the desire to throw up. Was Commodus seeing Apollo, the four thousand year old god, or was he seeing Lester, the sixteen year old boy? He hoped to every god in every pantheon that it was not the latter.

He was snapped outside his discomfort by laughter. Commodus' laughter. "Now, now Apollo. Don't you have anything else to say? After all, it has been a couple millenia since we've last spoken. No thanks to you murdering me."

Even after that enormous stretch of time, Apollo still had every detail of that day seared into his mind. Like a painful brand you could ignore, but never forget. He shivered through the fear and looked at him straight in the eyes. "And what do you want me to say, Commodus?"

"There are a variety of things I want you to say." Commodus leaned down, slowly, and swung his legs over the side of the bathtub. His sandals skimmed the tops of his shoes. "There are a variety of things I want you to do. There are far fewer, and much more important things that I simply want from you."

…sweat began to bead at the back of his neck. Apollo forced himself not to focus on Commodus' body, but even if he hadn't had the willpower, he wouldn't have been able to feel desire for him anyway. Had he been in any other circumstance, he may have struggled, but there was something deeply uncomfortable at having him say anything… implicative whilst he was restrained at his mercy.

"And what kind of things do you want from me?" He asked, wrists twitching against the restraints. They did not give.

Commodus let himself bask in silence for a moment, observing the small, animal-like signals of his fear, before moving until he was sat on the side of the bathtub, at such a position that he could easily reach down and touch his face and chest. Then, slowly, he turned around and gripped something that had been lying on the floor out of his sight.

Apollo twitched against his will as he fingered the cattle prod and began to slowly, slowly press against the dip in his collarbone, right the bottom of his throat. His eyes betrayed him, displaying a look of hoarse, vengeful delight.

"I want to hear you scream." Commodus said simply, before flicking the cattle prod on.

He clamped his mouth shut almost on instinct as electricity coarsed through him, and it took every bone in his body not to immediately start pleading for mercy. This was not his father. This was not a safe person to start begging too. Another crackle raced through him and he shook, biting down hard enough that his jaw began to ache. He was fucked.

It stabbed into that hollow once again, making his muscles seize and lock up in a cruel mirror of paralysis, and Apollo clutched his eyes closed equally as hard as his mouth as he felt the first beginnings of tears form in his eyes. He wasn't even sure why he was being defiant, why he was trying to hide himself from Commodus when he very clearly had intentions of murdering him the moment this was over. Maybe seeing Meg, maybe knowing Meg was safe had inspired him to act something like her. Maybe it was the humiliation that would come with giving in. He didn't know. Though really, with the pain ripping through him, he couldn't.

A question was said above him and he remembered shaking his head weakly, already feeling the skin under his eyes dampen in preparation for tears. Commodus moved away from that spot, having decided that he wanted to know what he looked like when he was writhing from pain in another location, and poked at the side of his neck.

Apollo didn't quite scream, but he did whimper as he attempted to jerk away from it. A peal of soft, dark laughter rang out from next to him he stabbed again at the same spot and held it there. It was beyond painful. The electricity seeped into every part of him just like his father's lightning - skin, muscle, nerves and bone, nothing could be hidden from it. He could feel his ears start to ring, but he was somehow able to make out that he was talking to him about something.

Another noise curled out of his mouth before he had the time to stop it, accompanied by a smooth, sliding tear. Commodus paused. He didn't know whether to feel grateful for the pause or disgusted at his touch as he slowly wiped the tear away, balancing its remnants on the pad of his finger.

He tsked. "Now this is the kind of reaction I want, Apollo. Don't try and hide them now, there's nothing wrong with feeling the pain of electrocution."

Apollo's mouth opened stiffly and he inhaled a shaky breath. It was interrupted by the cattle prod being forced between his teeth and his eyes flew open in a panic. He'd made a mistake. He'd made a huge, massive mistake-

He wasn't sure if he stayed fully conscious through that round, but he was very confident in the fact that he screamed. Artemis liked to tease that his screams would scare every wild creature for miles, and the memory motivated him to scream louder, somehow, as if it was possible to scare Commodus away like he was nothing more and an animal. He couldn't move. Couldn't think. Couldn't comprehend the pain. He began to inhabit the air around him, began to inhabit the bright fluorescents and the chilling marble, completely detached from his body yet somehow wailing. He started outright sobbing, wanting to plead too his father to stop, whilst drowning in the knowledge that he could make nothing but cries with Commodus having shoved the cattle prod between his teeth-

It stopped and he sunk back into reality, slowly, one piece at a time. The cattle prod was gone, leaving a sensitive jaw and aching teeth. The buzzing of electricity seemed to have dispersed, apart from lingering throbs that wrecked him in every place at once. The emperor beside him was standing up, speaking to someone, not even looking at him.

Through the corners of his eyes, blurred by tears and exhaustion, he saw Commodus scowl. He heard rather than saw the cattleprod clatter onto the floor, and he turned back to him.

"I wouldn't worry, Apollo." His eyes glimmered cruelly. "I'll be back to have a proper reunion later."

Somehow, he got the idea that a 'proper reunion' included choking him in the bathtub shaped space he was trapped in. But Commodus didn't stop to explain himself, and he didn't have the energy nor the desire to ask, and he left him tied down and battered without a second thought.

"Apollo?"

He startled, weakly straining at the cuffs to see who was there. They were, rather annoyingly, imperial gold, and pulling did nothing but cut bruises into his skin.

"Apollo." He knew that voice, but he couldn't place it. Why couldn't he place it?

Footsteps pattered towards him, and suddenly a small, grubby face was staring down at him with huge, watering eyes. She looked like she'd seen a ghost. She looked like she'd seen someone that she'd killed.

"Meg." Apollo croaked, his voice still quiet and heavy from the electrocution, mouth not fully recovered. He realised with a shock that it left marks. Marks that Meg could see. "Meg, what are you-"

In a second, her scimitars hard twirled into her hands and were slicing through the restraints like they were butter. In a second, tiny, chubby hands were yanking at the unhurt areas of his arms, pulling him upwards and out of the floor. In a second, all of the pain in the world didn't matter. Meg was there.

He then panicked, because Meg was there. Had Commodus captured her? His voice strained with panic. "What are you doing here?"

She sniffed and buried her face into his shoulder without second thought, arms wrapping around him both tight enough that she felt like she would never let go, and gentle enough that it felt like she was treating him like the most fragile sculpture in the world. The space around him seemed to dissolve as she cried, sobs racking her entire body. No shout, no scream, no death, not even the end of the world could have been enough to distract him from this moment.

"I left you." Meg whispered, curling into him. "I left you."

"Meg, what-" someone came running into the room and he tensed, wrapping his arms around her as tightly as possible, terrified of someone taking her away. "Oh my gods, Apollo-?"

He was distantly aware of Leo's face coming into view, joined quickly by two silver adorned girls, all three wearing faces of shock and horror. He must have looked like shit, and vainly, he allowed himself to feel just the smallest bit relieved that they were worried about him. But that wasn't important. What was important was that Meg was here, Meg was right here and he wasn't letting her go-

"We need to move. The rest of the Hunters are fighting Commodus' forces." One of the girls said quickly. He blinked. They were Hunters of Artemis. Apollo started crying just as hard as Meg. "Valdez, you grab one arm. Tana, you grab the other-"

She began cutting away at the restraints at his ankles, as Leo and the Hunter (Tana, he assumed) slowly tried to coax him and Meg apart. He, for the most part, ignored them and sobbed with her, burying his face into the top of her head and whispering reassurances into her ear.

"I'm not leaving you again." She protest as Leo slowly prised her off of him, displaying distraught, bloodshot eyes that matched in colour with the frames of her glasses. "I'm not-"

"You won't have too." He whispered back, hand firmly entwined in hers. "I promise."

His reunion with Commodus could wait. Apollo had one job, and one job alone - comforting Meg.

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