#all of a sudden it can't handle reds or blues?

[trashpandacraft]

wip wednesday: project shaming edition

i finally remembered wip wednesday, and it's even still wednesday! great job, me, very proud of you.

first, the good. i have yet to spin the second bobbin of my first pipy project, but that's fine—treadle wheels are mostly a weekend thing for me, and i felt crappy last weekend and barely got out of bed. i feel like it'll get done this weekend, no worries. and i'm going to ignore that realistically, i'm going to start spinning up the polwarth i dyed basically as soon as i can, because i'm greedy. surely the limit is one active spinning project per wheel, right?

anyhow, starting 'as soon as i can' is, basically, after i finish this set of socks.

are these socks exciting? no. am i enjoying knitting them? they're fine, i guess. i'm not sure that i love hobbii's sock yarn, and it wants desperately to spiral, for some reason. but the socks will serve their purpose, and that's why i knit socks with novelty yarn, so whatever. i'm getting a lot of very important youtube videos watched.

unfortunately, that's it for the good, and next up we have this hideously orange jumper. it's so orange that neither my phone nor my computer can figure out what to do with it. when it looks right on one, it looks red on the other; when it looks right on the other, it looks like bizarre orange that's both too bright and too dull. this picture looks equivalently bad on both devices, so it's what i'm using.

it's just a mindless no-pattern raglan with hobbii unicorn solids. it looks small, but it's just squished on the needles—it's adult sized, and the body will be something like 470 stitches around. this isn't really sparking joy, though it is, again, good television knitting, and i think that it will be well loved when i'm finished. which might be 2025.

and then the...mixed emotions. i spun this yarn. i'm knitting it into a shawl for my wife. i love both the yarn and the wife. but i'm a little wary of the project itself, because it's not great for mindless knitting (or at least isn't great yet), and also, frankly, i'm so aware that it's silly, you know? will anyone ever wear this shawl? i honestly have no idea. but here's the yarn.

that second picture is one strand of the yarn, one of sewing thread. the yarn is one ply of handspun rambouillet and one of commercial silk, plied loosely together. i went with this because while this is by no stretch of the imagination an orenburg shawl, galina khmeleva says that this is how they're traditionally done: loosely plied, one ply cashmere, one ply commercial silk. i figure if it's good enough for them, it's good enough for me—and also, ok, easier than spinning another 1200 metres of singles for this.

i've started the very beginning of the shawl, and have every intention of finishing it, but haven't gotten far. you can just see the lace on the outer panels starting to form.

i love this shawl. i'm going to finish this shawl. now that i'm thinking about it, though, it might be more of a summer knitting project than a winter one. i'm putting off starting a cowl, which would be a little more practical in the immediate future. i'll see how i feel when i'm done the socks, i guess.

[heizouz]

nsfw sub!scaramouche + gn!reader, cock can be referred to as a strap, cockwhore scara <3

thinking about scara becoming so cock drunk that he completely loses himself and all his pride.

pressing your hand against the side of his head, pushing him further into the mattress as you pound into him from behind. he's stubborn, eyebrows furrowing and a low moan escapes his lips at one particularly hard thrust.

you can't hear him enough, so you grab a handful of his hair to pull him up from the bed and he hisses. he's still refusing to moan or whine but he can't help it when you grab his hips and basically drag him along your cock. the feeling of being so easy to handle has him slip out a gasp and a soft groan falls from his lips as his eyes slightly roll back.

instead of being embarrassed scaramouche just hangs his head and pants when you run a warm hand over his back, before grabbing his blue hair once again. you pull him up to your chest, hand closing around the base of his throat to keep him there.

that gets him embarrassed. purely because he feels so on display and aware of what's happening. especially when you hold scaramouche tight to your chest and drag your hand over his cock, still thrusting into him.

he feels so overwhelmed and shy, red heat rushing to his chest and neck at how obscene this entire thing is.

"you're so… so-" scara cuts himself off by biting down hard onto his bottom lip but you catch the whimpers that escape his mouth because he's right next to your ear.

you grin, moaning lowly against his cheek to show just how close you were to him, "so what?"

your pace doesn't slow at all, still grinding hard into him and he jolts at a sudden hard thrust, letting out an embarrassingly loud moan that has him scrunching his eyebrows at. your hand still toys with his leaking cock, dragging your hand along the length of it in time with your hips and scaramouche pants and you can feel the low hum of a whine at the base of his throat where your hand keeps him still.

scara is unable to get his words out anymore, his brain shutting off, getting all fuzzy as he lays his head back on your shoulder. he still hates how pliant he's being, hates how much control you have over him and how on display he is for you. but at the same time he quite frankly couldn't care less, especially when his thighs start to shake and your cock is hitting him so deep he can almost feel it in his stomach.

scaramouche unconsciously let's a whimper slip past his lips, thrusting into your hand and his own hands slip behind himself. he lays his hands on the small of your back and he moans obscenely into your ear when he forces you to stay pressed tight against him.

"fuck…" you curse, hand slowing on the boy's cock, eyes screwing shut and you realise that scara has dropped all sort of embarrased self restraint and just wants to get off.

you grind against him, ripping a pretty quiet groan from scara's parted lips, your hand tightening a little around his throat and you watch the boy's eyes flutter closed.

"needy thing." you mutter, lowering your head and grinning against scaramouche's neck, teeth slightly grazing the skin and scara scrunches his face at the words coming from your mouth. okay, still embarrassed, you chuckle and press a kiss underneath his jaw.

in one swift movement, you push scaramouche away from your chest, back onto the bed and he lets out a small gasp of shock. his eyes go wide as your fingers curl tightly into his hair, leaning over his back, pushing your cock impossibly deeper into him before hissing, "fuck yourself on my cock, desperate brat."

scaramouche groans lowly, almost a grumble, when you straighten up. you don't move, tilting your head as you watch scara pant, obvious shyness flooding his body but eventually he shifts back against your cock.

his head drops and you can only see the blue of his hair while he pushes back against you slowly, still slightly awkward so you help him. you press your hand against his back, pushing him down so his chest lay against the sheets and his back arches gorgeously for you.

scara moans, muffled by the bedsheets and his fingers wrap into the cotton before he loses all sense of pride and desperately fucks himself onto you. his eyes flutter shut, rolling back as he drags himself along your cock, whimpers spilling from his pretty lips and his speed increases when your hands find home on his soft hips.

"i'm, fuck-" scaramouche slightly lifts his head to speak, words unable to form on his tongue whilst he continuously forces his hips against you, "i'm gonna-"

"you're gonna what?" you can't help the smirk tugging at your lips at how he refuses to beg, the desperation in his thrusts telling you everything you needed to know. you just wanted to hear him say it.

scara fists the sheets tight, biting his lip before letting out a small cry, ass colliding with your hips obscenely. he doesn't respond to you, head filled with nothing but making himself cum from just your cock alone.

but you're not having any of it.

you grab his hips, pulling him flush against you and the whine that rips from his throat is so pretty that you almost spill yourself.

"you're gonna what?"

the boy whimpers, a warm flush spreading across his body but the small plea of "please, i need to cum," pushes past his lips and your heart jumps at the desperation in his broken voice.

"fuck- good boy." you growl and you help him out, gripping his hips tight. you pull out almost completely to the tip and give him one last hard thrust and then he's spilling all over the sheets with a loud moan.

he shakes, cries ripping from his throat as he finishes. scara's eyes squeeze shut, head falling into his hands on the bed and you gently lower your hand to his wet cock to stroke him through it.

the blue haired pants, trying to catch his breath, face shoved into the sheets in pure embarrassment of the entire situation as soon as he starts to come back to his own mind.

"i-i hate you." scaramouche gasps and you just smile, curling your fingers softly into his hair.

[cressidagrey]

Looked to the Sky - Chapter 19

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was, however, Azriel‘s mate with her own mysterious, untrained powers.

Also known as: Azriel tries to court his mate the human way.

Warnings: 

THIS IS THE LIGHTNING IN A BOTTLE SEQUEL! SO READ THAT FIRST IF YOU WANNA READ THIS ONE OTHERWISE THIS MAKES NO SENSE!

Mention of domestic violence and without @k-godling this would have never happened.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

The day was perfect.  It dawned bright and clear...the perfect wintery day.

"You are nervous," Cassian teased him. Azriel just glared at him.

"Of course, I am," Azriel gave back with a growl.

"And here I thought you had nerves of steel," Cassian's voice dripped with a smirk as he helped Azriel adjust his shirt for the millionth time.

"I do," Azriel shot back. "Or did you forget this morning? When I knocked you on your ass?"

"You caught me off guard," Cassian protested.

Azriel let out a snort, smoothing down his shirt.

"Yeah right," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Keep telling yourself that, brother."

"I like seeing the all-mighty Shadowsinger be reduced to a terrified groom," Cassian snickered.

"I am not terrified," Azriel protested. "I have seen battle. I've fought gods and lived to tell the tale. I can handle some flowers, and some guests, and some vows."

"Yeah, but you can't handle your pretty little mate in a wedding dress, can't you?" Cassian asked with a grin.

Azriel couldn't stop the heat that rose to his cheeks as the mental image of Eira in a wedding dress popped into his mind.

Of course, he couldn't hide the flush of his skin from Cassian, who started laughing at the sight.

"You're blushing," Cassian accused, a wide grin on his face.

Azriel shot him a glare, smoothing down his shirt again.

"Keep telling yourself that in order to feel better about your ass being handed to you this morning," he grumbled.

Cassian was still chuckling as they heard the sound of the door opening, revealing Rhys, who was clad in his own wedding finery.

The High Lord had a smug look on his face that Azriel didn't like the look of at all. "Finally got the groom into his clothes, I see," Rhys said, shooting Azriel a grin.

And then, his eyes were immediately pulled to his mother, standing in the doorway. Rhys had gone to fetch her just now.

She was dressed in her own finery, and she looked more radiant than Azriel had seen her in years. Her hair was braided back and pinned up, and even her green eyes were bright and shining as she looked over the trio of males.

She immediately came over and smoothed a hand over Azriel's hair, adjusting his shirt as he had done.

"You look perfect," she told him. "Handsome as ever."

Azriel's heart clenched at his mother's words, and he had to fight off a sudden wave of nervousness, even as Cassian clasped him on his back as he backed off. 

"Are you...sure you're alright?" he asked his mother quietly. She didn't often leave the safety of Rosehall. Esmeray just gave him a look. 

"I'm perfectly fine," she told him reassuringly, patting his cheek affectionately. "And you'll do great today."

Azriel felt a flush rising to his cheeks at her words and the affection in her voice, and he ducked his head to hide it.

"Thank you, Ma," he whispered quietly. "And you look stunning," he said quietly, his eyes sweeping over her blue dress and the hair pinned up with sparkling pins.

His mother's eyes softened, a fond smile on her face as she gently pinched his cheek as if he were a little kid instead of the fearsome shadowsinger.

"You'll make me cry," she said, her voice still soft. "And you don't want me to show up to the wedding with a red nose and puffy eyes, do you?"

Azriel managed to laugh, gently covering her hand on his cheek with one of his own.

"Absolutely not," he teased gently. "It would ruin the whole occasion."

His mother laughed at that, patting his cheek again before she reached up to fix the buttons of his jacket, and he tried not to twitch at the fussing.

He was the spymaster, for Cauldron's sake. But here he was, blushing at his mother's affection and letting her fix his clothes like he was still a child.

"You look wonderful," his mother said to him, her eyes searching his face. "I have seen you as a warrior, and as a spymaster. Today...today I will see you as a husband."

His heart stuttered a bit at the words, and he had to fight to keep himself steady, forcing down the sudden wave of nervousness that threatened to consume him.

"And..." he began, his voice coming out a little rough. "Do I...measure up to husband standards?"

His mother chuckled at that, gently patting his chest.

"You've always been more than enough for me," she said warmly. "And you've always strived to be enough for yourself. But that beautiful girl you asked to marry you? She thinks you hung the moon and the stars. For her? You are everything."

He swallowed.

His mother cocked her head to the side. "What's wrong, darling?" She asked him quietly.

"I don't...I don't want to be like him," he whispered.

Realization flashed through his mother's eyes at his words, and she paused for a moment.

"You are nothing like him," she said firmly. "Not one thing like him. Not in your words, not in your actions, not in your heart.

"I look just like him," Azriel disagreed. Just like his father.

His mother's eyes softened again, and she reached out to cup his face in her hands.

"You have his nose, my darling, and your hair is the same tone of black..." She paused for a moment, staring into his green eyes. "...but that is where the similarities end. Your father was cruel to me. Brutal even. He took joy in hurting me, and you. But you, my dearest boy, are the opposite.  "

"I did things," he admitted, a hoarse breath escaping him. "Things that..."

His mother gently shushed him, running a hand through his inky black hair.

"None of us are perfect, my darling," she whispered. "And none of us have perfect pasts. I won't tell you that what you did was right, but you're not him. You are a good man. A better man than your father ever was."

Azriel felt his shoulders relax slightly at his mother's words, and he took in a deep, steadying breath.

"I just want to be good to her," he whispered, his voice almost cracking with emotion. "I need to be. I want to be good to Eira."

His mother looked like she wanted to hug him then and there, but she settled for gently stroking his hair again, her expression warm and kind.

"I know, my sweet boy," she told him gently. "You already are. And if you are good to her, and care for her, and treat her like the precious gift that she is, then you are nothing like your father. Nothing at all like him."

Azriel let out a shuddering breath, taking a step forward and hugging his mother for a brief moment, burying his face in her dark hair.

"Thank you," he whispered as he pulled back slightly, his voice still hoarse. "Thank you so much."

His mother smiled again, gently patting his cheek one final time.

"Now go get married, my darling," she said. "And be happy with your wonderful mate."

Azriel had to fight the sudden burning in his eyes, and he looked down, afraid that his eyes might give him away.

But then a second pair of hands were on his shoulders, and he lifted his head up, seeing Rhys next to him.

"A little bird told me that you'd need this right about now," Rhys said, producing a glass of amber-coloured liquor.

Azriel couldn't help but let out a little bark of laughter at the sight, grabbing the glass and taking a long, slow swig of the liquor.

It burned going down, and he coughed as the alcohol hit his tongue. But it was good, and helped ease the nerves and the ache in his chest.

***

For all the thoughts that Eira had had about wanting a husband and children...she had never really thought about how it would feel to get married.

She never had had thoughts about a poufy white dress and flowers...

But here she was. Letting Azriel's shadows weave snowdrops into her hair, as she was perched at her vanity table. 

It was almost like a dream...like something out of a storybook. A beautiful wedding dress fit for a fairytale, flowers woven into her hair, and a mate waiting to speak his vows.

This...this was something beautiful.

The last snowdrop was added to the others in her caramel brown hair, their shimmering white petals almost glowing against her hair.

Eira stared into the mirror as the shadows moved back, her breath catching in her chest as she saw the flowers...and how beautiful all of it, all her was.

She was almost afraid to look up, afraid to look away from the mirror, her hands clenching against each other.

"You look beautiful," Feyre said softly from where she was sitting on the bed, Nyx on her lap.

"What about jewellery?" Nesta asked her. She hadn't even finished the sentence, before the shadows had already brought her that velvet box from Solstice.

At the sight of the black velvet box, she felt her heart clench in her chest, a bittersweet pang of affection moving through her.

The shadows placed the box in her hand, and she undid the latch, lifting the lid and gazing at the shining pearls, the glittering diamonds.

They were the most beautiful things she had ever seen, shining against the backdrop of the black velvet. Gorgeous.

Eira picked up the necklace first, carefully clasping it around her throat.

The bracelet was next, her hands shaking a little as she struggled to fasten the delicate clasp.

And then…then they opened the drawer of her vanity table and pulled out another velvet box. That velvet box. Those pearl earrings. The earrings.

“I can’t wear them,” Eira protested quietly. “I don’t have…”

But then the shadows already opened the box. We had them fixed. They are clip-on earrings now. No need for your earlobes to be pierced.

Eira stared, shocked, at the earrings.

Her throat was suddenly tight, and she had to swallow down the sudden lump in her throat as she looked down at the earrings.

They were absolutely gorgeous. She had thought that from the first time she had seen them. Pearl and Diamond. Simple and elegant.

They were perfect.

And the shadows had altered them for her. Changed them into clip-on earrings, so that she wouldn't have to get her ears pierced.

They had gone to the extra effort for her, had wanted to make sure that she could wear them, even without her getting her ears pierced, and...it was more than a little overwhelming.

“Thank you,” she whispered, biting back the tears. “Thank you.”

It was ridiculous, how such a small thing could nearly make her tear up...but it was just so thoughtful, such a sweet, meaningful gesture, for a stupid little pair of earrings, and -

The shadows twined around her, giving her a reassuring little nudge, wrapping themselves around her with a gentle squeeze almost like a hug.

She could finally wear Azriel's gift.

She exhaled, the motion shuddering and a little unsteady as she just stared at the earrings in her hands.

They were just...beautiful, and so very thoughtful, even more so now that the shadows had gone to such great lengths to make them accessible to her. So that she would be able to wear them, without having to go through the trouble of getting her ears pierced.

It was so...thoughtful...so considerate...It...It was almost painful, how much this small thing meant to her.

They tightened them on her earlobes and then brushed against her cheeks. 

She almost didn't notice that Feyre had gotten up until the High Lady of the Night Court stood behind her and put an arm around her waist.

"You look gorgeous," Feyre told her for the second time, a gentle smile on her face. "So beautiful."

Eira's breath caught in her chest as she stared into the mirror, seeing her reflection. The pearls and diamonds. The snowdrops. .

Feyre was right...she looked beautiful.

And she wasn't even wearing the best part yet.

The Dress.

The dress that she had made...that she had designed was perfect. It was beautiful.

It was white and silken, smooth to the touch and hugging her body perfectly...the lace and silk dripping off her like liquid. She had spent hours carefully beading the lace and the tulle with dozens and dozens of crystals and pearls...until it was perfect.

Beautiful, and flowing, and perfect. Like something out of a dream, or a fairy tale.

She reached out and gently touched the skirts, her heart thundering in her chest as the realization hit her all over again.

She was wearing a wedding dress.

It was something that she had almost resigned herself to never having. A beautiful wedding dress, with flowers in her hair and her mate waiting at the end of the aisle.

But now...now there was no turning back. No turning back as Nesta and Feyre closed the dozens of tiny pearl buttons that kept the dress closed on the back. As Nesta smoothed down the train that fell from her shoulders to the floor, the layers upon layers of silk and lace.

She looked up as Nesta stood, her hands smoothing along the beautiful silk and lace. "Perfect," she said quietly, a warm smile on her face.

Feyre was smiling too, her eyes sparkling a bit as she looked at the dress. Even little Nyx was quiet with fascination, staring at Eira from Feyre's arms.

And then...there was a single knock on the door, and all three of the Archeron girls went very still, realizing the significance of it.

Eira's heart was pounding in her ribcage so hard that she felt as if it might burst, her hands clenching and unclenching at her side.

"Ready?" Feyre asked her quietly. Eira tried to say something, but her voice wouldn't work and she simply nodded.

"Good," Feyre smiled. "Then let's get you married."

Eira forced herself to take a deep, shaky breath, her chest tight with nerves and excitement and love.

And then, before she could think too hard about it, Feyre was opening the door, revealing Rhys in all his wedding finery waiting behind it.

Every bit the High Lord, his hair slicked back from his face, and his suit dark and crisp, a warm smile on his face.

"You look beautiful," he told her quietly, a hint of a gleam in his violet eyes. "Stunning, little sister."

"Thank you," Eira whispered back, her voice a little hoarse.

Rhys offered his arm to her and she took it almost shyly, her heart racing.

"Time to get you married," he said, grinning at her.

Eira managed a shaky laugh, her chest tight as she took a few trembling steps. 

She couldn't see anything but Rhys and her vision had started to blur, and the thundering of her blood was so loud that it almost sounded like drums.

“Please don’t let me fall down the stairs,” she blurted out and Rhys laughed softly. 

“Don’t worry, I got you,” Rhys promised her, as they reached the staircase landing. “We’ll get you safely to that temple.”

And then…then Eira only needed to get down the aisle without tripping.

“Just hold on to me,” Rhys said as she managed the first few steps of that staircase, Nesta behind her managing her train. 

She could do that. Probably.

But Rhys was solid and unmoving and his easy strength meant she could depend on it and…

“You alright?" Rhys asked quietly, noticing her nerves and her shaking.

Eira swallowed hard, trying to steady her heart. Her palms were damp and her knees felt like jelly but she managed a nod at her brother's question, trying desperately to focus on anything but the nerves. Rhys squeezed her arm again, reassuring and comforting. "You'll be alright," he said quietly. "Just breathe."

She forced herself to take a deep breath, filling her lungs with air, and slowly letting it out, focusing on the feel of her feet moving on the floor.

“Please don’t leave me,” she whispered, her breath choking in her throat. 

There wasn’t a father that could walk her down the aisle. That had been taken from her along with her humanity, during that war. But if she could just depend on Rhys’ easy strength, that immovable presence of his…maybe she was going to be just fine with that... 

Rhys squeezed her hand. “You’ll be fine,” he promised, violet eyes shining. “I won’t let you fall, little one.” 

And he didn’t. 

Rhys gently squeezed her arm, his smile kind as he carefully guided her outside into the garden and then towards that temple at the far end of it. 

One step, and then another, and then another, moving closer and closer to these double doors and the room beyond.

It was like a whirlwind, and she was only aware of two things. Rhys's arm under hers to keep her steady...and the fact that Azriel was waiting at the end of the aisle, his wings flared behind him.

And suddenly…suddenly it was so easy.

She didn't notice anything besides him, his wings flared out behind him and his suit crisp and black against his dark skin and onyx hair. He was staring at her, his eyes wide with a mixture of amazement and love.

And she felt her heart clench in her chest, a surge of adoration moving through her at the sight of the male who was to become her husband.

She was barely aware that she was moving again, slowly walking down the aisle, every step bringing her closer to him. Eira hardly noticed the people watching or saw the soft smiles on their faces.

All she could see was her mate, her eyes completely locked on to him, and all she could hear was the thumping of her heart in her chest.

She heard the sound of Feyre behind her, laughing softly, and feel Rhys gently letting go of her arm. 

The only thing that mattered…the only thing that mattered was him.

She drank him in, her eyes glued to his, as she held out her hands for him to take and warm, scarred fingers closed around hers. 

The Priestess said something to her, the words were a little hard to process, her heart still racing in her chest, her breaths coming faster than they should have. But she still managed to respond immediately, her voice hoarse as she smiled up at her mate, grey eyes meeting hazel-green.

"Yes."

She heard a quiet, almost shaky sort of breath from Azriel, his wings shifting behind him, as he stared at her in wonder, as she heard with half a mind the priestess repeat the question, this time to Azriel…

She heard Azriel's chest heave with a deep, steadying breath before he responded, his voice like gravel, like velvet, the most beautiful sound of them all. 

"Yes."

The priestess began speaking again, the words passing over Eira like some kind of dream. She was too focused on him, her mate, the wonderful male in front of her that was hers.

This felt like something out of a dream, like the fantasy storybooks she had been reading as a child...

But the male standing in front of her, looking at her, looking at her as if she was the only good thing in all the world...that was very real.

A real as the priestess in her robes continued to speak. She caught snippets of what he said. Words like promises, and commitment, and love. Forever.

And always.

No one had every looked at her the way he did. Or loved her the way he did.

And then...then, finally...his hand lifted to her face

She felt as if the entire world stopped around her at the touch.

His hand was warm on her cheek, callouses rough against her skin as he touched her, and she leant into the touch, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them again.

His eyes were wide, his face soft with adoration.

“You may kiss your bride."

Time seemed to slow to a stop as she looked at Azriel, her heart thundering against her skin, her blood rushing in her ears.

There was nothing in the world that she wanted more at that moment than to kiss her husband.

He gently cupped the back of her head in his other hand as he pulled her closer, his wings spreading out behind him as he leaned down to meet her.

The second his lips met hers was like lightning striking through Eira, setting her blood on fire and sending a shiver down her spine. Her head was spinning and her heart was racing and her lungs had completely forgotten how to work as time seemed to slow down around them, only him and her and the moment that they shared.

His lips against hers, his hand in her hair…

And then, somehow, they had to stop, separating just barely, their breath mingling together as they slowly pulled apart.

Eira could feel her heart hammering in her chest, feel the way her whole body seemed to hum at his touch, the way her blood was still on fire, burning hotter than it had before.

She was faintly aware of the cheering of their family, the applause and whistles of the people around them, but she hardly cared.

She was far too focused on the feeling of him, her mate, her husband still holding her…She had married him....her wonderful, beautiful Azriel.

And she smiled.

Eira grinned, beaming up at him. 

Azriel stared down at her, his expression still wide-eyed and a little stunned. But then, after a moment, he smiled back, his hand curling gently against her cheek.

I love you.

The words weren't spoken, but she could see them on his face, in the adoration in his gaze,  in the way his eyes shone as he looked at her.

She could feel everything through the bond, every bit of his intense, unwavering love for her. Every bit of his adoration and affection and tenderness.

He was staring at her as if she was the most beautiful female in all of Prythian, and she had never felt more loved in her whole life.

"We're married," she murmured, her voice shaking just a little as she spoke the words.

"We are," Azriel murmured back, his voice rough with emotion.

And then he was pulling her closer into his arms, her body melting against his as he held her close, holding onto her like he was holding a precious treasure in his hands.

Like she was something to cherish.

He held her tight, his face buried in her hair while he took a deep, shuddery breath.

"My wife," he murmured quietly, his voice a soft rumble.

And gods, did she like hearing that. Loved hearing that.

"My husband," she whispered back, tilting her head back a little to look up at him, her eyes glowing with pure adoration as she smiled at him.

Her husband. Her mate. Her most wonderful, caring, incredible male.

She wanted to spend hours in his arms, the feeling of his touch against her body. She wanted to be claimed, to be marked by him as his wife.

His mate.

His everything.

She wanted all of his attention, all of his love, all of his adoration. All of it, forever.

Gods, but she wanted him. Wanted to have him, and be had by him.

And judging by the way his eyes darkened as hers glowed brighter, the way his arms tightened around her, the way his breath hitched in his chest....he wanted her just as much.

But first...first...first, there was their family descending on them, congratulations and cheers.

Through the wave of well-wishers and kind words, Azriel never let go of her.

He didn’t let go, he just kept her tucked against his side, his hand never leaving her body, gently touching some part of her. Her hand, her hair, her shoulder.

Even as Feyre stepped up, looking almost blissed as she grinned and drew them both into a tight hug.

"I'm so happy for you both," Feyre told them, looking beyond happy as she smiled at them, a genuine, joyful smile.

Nesta stepped up then, a soft, warm smile on her face, a single tear in the corner of her eye as she gave them both a quick hug before stepping back.

"Congratulations," she said warmly, before stepping back to stand with Esmeray, who was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

Rhys was there moments later, pulling them both into a tight hug and clapping Azriel on the back, his smile nearly splitting his face in half.

"I always knew you had it in you, brother," he said with a low chuckle, which he quickly quieted when Feyre pinched him on the side.

After him came Cassian, grabbing them both in a bear hug and lifting them off the ground for a moment before he set them down, grinning at them both like some kind of excited child.

"You're both married!" he exclaimed, looking utterly ecstatic. "I'd never thought I'd see the day!"

Mor stepped up after him, her face glowing as she wrapped her arms around them, pulling them into a tight hug.

"Congratulations," she murmured quietly, her voice tight with emotion. "Both of you...I'm so happy."

Amren was last, her face set in its usual cold, stoic expression. But then, she stepped up in front of them, giving both Azriel and Eira a brief, quick hug before saying, "Congratulations. I'm very...pleased, that both of you have found happiness in each other."

Esmeray was grinning with excitement as she stepped up, the older female looking utterly joyful as she gave both Azriel and Eira a tight hug, squeezing them tight.

"I'm so happy for the both of you," she said quietly, her voice quavering a little. "Thank you, Ma," Azriel said quietly.

"Thank you," Eira echoed, her voice soft as she looked at her new mother-in-law.

Esmeray just smiled fondly at them both, reaching up to gently pat each of them on the cheek.

"You're both wonderful together," she said quietly, her voice soft and warm. "I hope you're both very happy together."

She looked away briefly, her eyes glowing, before looking back at them with a bright smile.

"And no doubt you'll be having some wonderful children too," Esmeray said, her voice almost singsong. Azriel almost choked...while a faint blush crept up over Eira's cheeks.

"Mother," Azriel said, his voice almost strangled.

But Esmeray just laughed, grinning at both of them with a mischievous sort of twinkle in her eye. "I'm just saying," she said with a laugh. "I would love to be a grandmother."

Azriel groaned, facepalming as Esmeray continued to laugh.

And in the midst of all the laughter, all the joy and love and well-wishes...Eira felt an almost overwhelming sense of contentment settle in her chest.

[lxndonorris]

doubts - Max Verstappen

Y/N x Max Verstappen Theme: a little bit of everything cheering up Max after a frustrating qualifying session x word count: 2500+ taglist: @cloud-55 I needed that.... open for requests. Gif by @countingstars-17 thank you bub!

The motorhome is quiet, almost too quiet, compared to the roar of engines that filled the air just a short while ago. The walls, adorned with racing memorabilia, framed photos of victories, and splashes of Red Bull blue, feel like a sanctuary from the outside world, a cocoon away from the glaring lights and curious eyes. 

But now, the energy inside is tense and heavy, almost suffocating.

Max is sitting on the leather sofa, his elbows resting on his knees, hands hanging down loosely as he stares at the floor. The upper half of his racing suit hangs limply around his waist, the fireproof undershirt clinging to his chest and back, soaked with sweat and frustration. His hair, usually slicked back, is tousled, his face a mix of fatigue and quiet anger.

The qualifying session was a disaster. A car that wouldn't behave, tires that wouldn't grip, and a series of small, infuriating mistakes left him far lower on the grid than he has any right to be.

And for a man who built his life on perfection, on pushing limits, on winning, this was unacceptable.

You watch him from the kitchenette, silently taking in his frustration, feeling the tension radiate off him in waves. 

You know this side of Max well—the one who lives for the thrill of the race, who feels every setback as a personal failure. It hurts to see him like this, wound so tightly that he seems ready to snap.

You move quietly, almost hesitantly, from where you are standing, as if afraid any sudden movement might shatter the fragile silence that settled between you.

The sound of your footsteps is almost inaudible against the soft carpet, but you can feel Max's eyes flicker toward you as you approach.

"Max," you say softly, sitting down next to him on the sofa. 

You reach out, resting a hand on his knee, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric. 

He doesn't pull away, but he doesn't respond either, his eyes still focused on the ground. You sense the storm brewing inside him��a mixture of exhaustion and self-recrimination—and you know you have to find a way to break through it.

"It wasn't your fault," you begin, your voice gentle but firm. "You did everything you could out there."

"Did I?" he mutters, more to himself than to you. His voice is low, rough, like gravel.

"Maybe if I had pushed harder or backed off in that last corner... maybe..." He trails off, his firsts clenching, the knuckles turning white.

You shake your head, even though you know he isn't really looking at you.

"You can't control everything, Max. Not the weather, not the track conditions, not even the car sometimes. You know that."

He sighs heavily, finally looking up at you, his blue eyes clouded with doubt and frustration.

"But I'm supposed to be able to handle it. That's what makes a champion, isn't it? Being able to deal with anything and everything?"

You give him a small, sad smile, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

"You're already a champion, Max. You don't have to prove that to anyone, least of all to yourself."

He closes his eyes at your touch, his shoulders slumping as some of the tension seems to drain away.

"I hate this feeling," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "This helplessness... like I'm not in control."

You lean in closer, sliding your hand from his knee to his stomach, feeling the taut muscles underneath the thin fabric.

"You're still in control, Max. Tomorrow is another day, another race. You can still turn this around."

He opens his eyes, looking at you with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability that he rarely shows to anyone.

"How do you do that?" he asks quietly, his hand coming up to cover yours, pressing it gently against his stomach.

"Do what?" You ask, your fingers tracing small, soothing circles on his skin.

"Make me believe it's going to be okay, even when everything feels like it's falling apart."

You smile softly, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek, lingering there for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of him—engine oil, sweat, and the faintest hint of his cologne.

"Because it is going to be okay," you murmur against his skin. "I believe in you, Max. And I'm not going anywhere."

He turns his head slightly, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss that sends a shiver down your spine. You feel the warmth of his breath, the softness of his lips, and for a moment, the world outside ceases to exist.

It is just the two of you, cocooned in this small, private space, where nothing else matters.

When he pulls back, his eyes are softer, the tension in his body less pronounced. 

"I don't deserve you," he says quietly, his voice tinged with self-reproach.

You shake your head, cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

"You deserve all the love and support in the world, Max. You give so much of yourself to this sport, to your team, to the fans... it's okay to let someone take care of you too."

He doesn't say anything; he just leans into your touch, his eyes closing as he lets out a slow, shaky breath.

You feel him slowly relaxing under your hands, the storm inside him beginning to calm. You shift closer, tucking yourself against his side, your head resting on his shoulder, your hand still tracing soothing patterns on his stomach.

You sit like that for a long time, the silence between you no longer heavy or oppressive but comforting, like a shared understanding. You feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the rhythm of his breathing slowing as the tension ebbes away.

"Thank you," he whispers after a while, his voice soft, almost fragile.

You lift your head, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. 

"For what?"

"For being here. For knowing what I need, even when I don't."

You smile, snuggling closer to him.

"That's what I'm here for. You don't have to go through this alone."

He wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer, his fingers gently brushing against your arm.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," he admits quietly, his voice so low you almost don't hear him.

"You'll never have to find out," you reply, your voice equally as soft.

He kisses the top of your head, his lips lingering there as he breathes you in.

"I love you," he whispers, the words carrying the weight of everything he can't say, everything he feels but can't express.

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, your heart swelling with love and affection for this man who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders but still finds the strength to let you in.

"I love you too, Max. Always."

He smiles then, a real, genuine smile that reaches his eyes, chasing away the last remnants of his frustration.

Leaning down, he captures your lips in a kiss that is slow, tender, and filled with unspoken promises.

Max's hand moves to the small of your back, pulling you even closer as the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more insistent. You feel the last of his tension melting away, replaced by a different kind of heat, a desire that is as much about comfort as it is about connection.

You shift, sliding onto his lap, your legs straddling his hips as you press yourself against him, feeling the hard planes of his chest against you.

His hands move to your waist, holding you there as he kisses you like a man who has been starved for affection, for touch, for the reassurance that he isn't alone.

You feel the fire in him, the same fore that drives him on the track, that pushes him to be the best, but here, with you, it is tempered by something softer, something more vulnerable. 

It is a side of Max that few people ever see—a side that he only ever shows to you.

When you finally break apart, both of you breathing hard, your foreheads resting against each other, you see the change in him.

The frustration and anger are gone, replaced by a calm determination, a quiet resolve that tells you he is ready to face whatever tomorrow will bring.

"I'm ready," he says softly, his hands still holding you close.

You nod, brushing a thumb across his cheek.

"I know you are. And I will be right there with you, every step of the way."

He kisses you again, a soft, lingering kiss that leaves you breathless.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you," he murmurs against your lips.

You smile again, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

"You don't have to do anything to deserve me, Max. You just have to let me love you."

He closes his eyes, leaning his forehead against yours.

"I can do that," he whispers.

As you shift on Max's lap, you let your fingers trace the contours of his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath the thin fabric of his undershirt.

Your touch is slow, deliberate as you move just beneath his pecs, right where you know he is most sensitive. His muscles tense momentarily at the contact, a shiver running through him, but then you feel him relax, his head tilting back against the sofa with a deep, contented sigh.

You smile to yourself, enjoying the way his body responds to your touch—how even in the midst of his frustration, you could find that one spot that makes everything else melt away.

Your fingers dance lightly across his skin, just enough pressure to coax a reaction, but not too much. 

You watch his eyes flutter shut, his breath hitches slightly before he lets out a soft growl of contentment.

"Mmm..." he murmurs, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. It is a low, rumbling noise that sends a thrill through you.

His hands move to cover yours, holding it against his chest as he opens his eyes to look at you, a lazy, satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

The tension that gripped him earlier seems to have evaporated, replaced by a warmth and ease that is rare for him in moments like these.

"Right there," he whispers, his voice a mix of amusement and pleasure. "You always know exactly where to touch."

You grin, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips.

"I know you too well, Maxie."

He chuckles, the sound rich and deep, vibrating against your lips as he kisses you back.

"Not that I'm complaining."

"Good," you tease, brushing your thumb across his skin again, watching as his eyes darkened with that familiar spark of desire.

Max's smile widens, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he relaxes completely against the sofa.

The frustration and weariness from earlier melted away, leaving behind the man you know so well—the man who thrives on competition but also craves the simple comfort of touch and connection.

He sighs contently, the sound almost a purr, as you continue to stroke his chest.

"You have no idea how much I needed this," he admits, his voice soft and low.

You lean in closer, your lips brushing against his ear. "I think I do," you whisper, your breath warm against his skin.

He turns his head slightly, his lips finding yours in a slow, languid kiss that speaks of gratitude, affection, and something deeper.

When he pulls back, his eyes are bright, a smile playing at his lips.

"Thank you," he says quietly, his fingers trailing up and down your arm in a gentle soothing motion.

"Not for that."

As the warmth of your embrace lingers, you feel Max's breathing slow, the tension fully drained away from his body. 

Sensing that he needs a moment of deeper comfort, you gently shift off his lap, sliding down to sit beside him on the sofa.

He looks up at you with a mixture of curiosity and contentment, the corners of his mouth still curved in that relaxed smile.

Without a word, you reach for him, your fingers threading through his hair as you gently pull his head down towards your lap.

Max doesn't resist, his body easily following the motion until he is lying down, his head resting comfortably against your thighs.

His eyes close as he settles in, a soft sigh escaping his lips, and you see him relaxing even more.

You look down at him, your heart swelling with love and tenderness for this man, so eager, so passionate, yet now he seems so at peace, so vulnerable in this moment.

You begin to caress his cheek, your fingers moving in slow, soothing strokes along the strong lines of his jaw, feeling the slight stubble that starts to form there.

Max leans into your touch, a soft hum of contentment vibrating in his chest. His body seems to melt even further into the sofa, his entire being surrendering to the comfort you are offering.

"This feels so goood..." he sighs, his voice barely above a whisper.

You lean down slightly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

"I'm glad," you breathe deeply, your fingers continuing their gentle dance across his skin. "You deserve to rest, Max. You work so hard, and sometimes... you need to let go."

His eyes flutter open, and he looks up at you with a gaze full of gratitude. 

"It's easier with you here," he admits. "You make everything easier."

"That's what I am here for."

He reaches up, his hand covering yours where it rests on his cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin in a mirrored gesture.

Max's breathing grows even slower, deeper as the exhaustion of the day finally catches up with him. His eyes drift shut again, and you could see the lines of stress and worry smooth out as sleep begins to take hold.

You continue to caress his cheek, your touch light and gentle, hoping to keep him in this peaceful state for as long as possible.

Watching him like this, so calm and serene, you feel an overwhelming sense of love for him. 

Max is so much more than the fierce competitor the world sees on track; he is kind, strong, vulnerable, and so incredibly human.

And it is moments like this that you feel closest to him, when he lets down all his walls and lets you in completely.

As you continue to stroke his cheek, your fingers moving in slow, rhythmic patterns, you whisper softly.

"I will always be here, Max. No matter what happens tomorrow or the day after, I'll be right here with you."

He doesn't respond, but the small smile that tugs at his lips tells you he heard you. His hand still rests over yours, warm and reassuring, even as sleep fully claimed him.

[phoniexrose02]

Mad at Me

Eli Hawk Moskowitz x Black! Reader

Smutt~

You'd been with the Sweet Boy Eli for as long as you could remember, Thankfully you two had Grown together Threw School and Eventually Confessed your Feels an Gotten Together Before Highschool. When he'd gotten into his Hawk Phase he'd Treated you like Royalty.

You'd Loved the Blue His Sudden Confidence was Sexy too you. He Loved how you'd Had no Shame in Public, you'd just Hope into his Lap and Smoother him with Kisses. But than it was Red, At first you Loved it. Something about it Was Angry, an in the Bedroom he was.

He'd Fuck you Hard Like he was Mad at you. Giving you a Rough Pounding after Whatever Karate Bullshit Had made him Upset in the First place, You Loved it. Until his Quiet Bullying started Spilling into your Life, Cobra Kai Really started to Show So you Ended it. You Missed Each Other But you Refused to engage With him until he was Off his BullShit, So you'd Flirt around an Recent you'd Met the Gorgeous Robby Keene, he was Kind too you But with a Roughness in his Voice an even Better, He was a Killer PotHead~

You'd decided to attend a Christmas party with him an Wore a Tight Red Sweater, with White fur Covering your Cleavage and Wrist, the Sweater hugging your Figure perfectly While your Red pumps made you tower over the boy.

You had Found yourselves On a Couch Shotgunning a J, the Loud Christmas Party Drowned out as your Kisses Last a Little longer than just Sharing Smoke.

You pull away with a Breathless Smile."Hawks Gawking at you~" he quietly Hummed into the Back of your Ear he placed a Soft Kiss letting his Ringed Fingers Sink into your Fluffy Thighs.

"Let Him..."

"Am I still receiving my Christmas Present later?" he Whispered back Nibbled at your Neck an lobe."You got more Trees for me?~" You Mewled out Sinking Deeper into his Embrace." I can...You gonna gimme my present later?~" he asked as your eyes began to Linger back to your Ex, his Angered expression as you Grinded your Hips on Robby's Lap Made you want to Laugh.

"I guess I'll see you After, Just Text me When your Ready ok?~" you Lifted off his Lap Earning a Displeased Whimper." Don't Worry, I'll sit in your lap all you want at my house~" you Grabbed his Face pulling him in for one last Kiss, he Hummed Happily as you walked away from him.

As you looked back to Where your Ex was he had of course disappeared, you huffed going around to look for the young man. You'd soon found him sitting in a Secluded an Quiet Corner, his eyes quickly found you and you Giggled at his Angry Expression.

"Can't keep your eyes to yourself can you?" You Greeted Sourly Finding his pouting rather Funny, he Returned your attitude with a Grime stare.

" Keene, Really?~"

He asked Almost Painful Quiet, It made you smile how Jealous he got for you." I'm Moving forward, You should too" Eli's eyes began to wonder your Christmas Fit, Fuckin' Perfect.

"You are my Way Forward~"

He pulled you close, letting his Fingers rest into your hips. Fuck, you'd be lying if you said you didn't love the way he handled you." Show me than~" it wasn't long before you two Desperately Shoved yourselves into a Near by Bathroom, You Two Easily had this effect on each other Your Panties Soaked While he Dick Quickly Grew Rock Hard.

As you slam the door slowly he'd quickly shoved you into the door, he pulled your hips against his Hard an Wrapped his hand around your Neck. He kissed an Licked at your ear aggressively You Mewled into his Grip as he began Lifting your Dress.You Really missed this~ "I need you so Bad Baby~"

"Oh now you Need me?"

He grumbled out an hooked his fingers into your panties before pulling them down slightly, He let his fingers run threw your already soaked Cunt with a smirk."You don't need me, Not if he'd doin' this to you" He shoved his fingers inside with little resistance pulling a Quiet Croak front your throat." I need you please give it to me~" he gave your throat a Squeeze."Why Should I?" You Whimper as he dug his fingers Deep making sure to hit every spot, you Whimper out voice Broken as he squeezed.

"Fuck! Fuck me Hawk Please!~"

You Croaked out in Desperation and he removed his hand from your throat with a Chuckle, he than pulled your Beautiful Brown Tits from the Top of your dress, Softly squeezin' pulling at Them."Fuck your so Fuckin' Pretty~"

You Weren't giving much time to Process his Comment as he was already kicking your Legs apart an pushing into you Sopping cunt, your toes Curled as you lean Further into the door. He slides Deep with a Grunt before Placing one hand onto your Shoulder an the Other to your Thick Waist, You let out a Deep Growl as he Wiggles his Hips Deep in your Hilt, Your Toes Curl in your Heels as he Shoved you Further into the Door."Fuck~ your still made for me~"

he pulled his Hips back far keeping his Gripped Rough on your Shoulder before Quickly shoving back inside with a Quiet moan, you Whimpered Doing your Best to keep Quiet as he Repeated the Act. You Gripped at the Door for any support, he plowed at your Tight Cunt with a Satisfying Slap, the Sound quickly Echoing the small Bathroom."So Good Eli! Don't Stop!~"

He placed both Hands as your Plush Hips an Began Pulling you as Deep as he Could Fit, he Moaned as he pulled your Cheeks apart Getting a Good Look at Where you Were Connected."Keep moving those Hips pretty girl, I wanna be Deep when I Cum~" he Growled as you do as commanded Slamming Back onto his Slong.

"Please Cum in me Eli!~" you Scream as his Thrust Progress Rapidly, you began to Rub at your Clit as your other hand rest against his Hands."Please Eli! Please!~" he entwines your Fingers together as best he Can before he Squeezed them Tight, Dumping his Load into your Squirting Cunt. " Fuck! You Made a Mess!~" his Legs Shook as he let the last Spurts Run Dry an he slowly pulled out, he backed away watching you Dripping by the Door.

You bit your lip at the Warm Fluids Gushing from you an quickly slip your panties back on, keeping his Juices in."I gotta get Going, Gotta Date~" you Mumbled out as you pulled up your Dress legs still Jittering, he Held your Weak Hips softly shoved you into Bathroom Door once again.

"You think I'm gonna let him fuck you?".He Gruffed out Holding your Hips tight, you Laughed Pulling his hands from you."Not together Remember? But he is Bi, I'm Sure he wouldn't mind your Appearance~"

He Grumbled an You Crossed your arms Resting you Back against Door." I'm heading to my Car, I wouldn't Mind my Passenger Prince". he missed you More than anything...but that Damn Keene, he'd Seemed to already have Won a Place in your Heart,

He Exited the Bathroom with you Hugged Close your Weak Hips close to his, He'll show Him...

How to fuck you Right~

More Cobra Kai 🐍

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In Abstract 1

A sequel no one asked for. First Series: Portrait of a Dangerous Man

Warnings: noncon/rape, some violence, blood, alluded murder (for now?), grief, confusing, criminal allusions, some untagged extreme events.

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You adjust to life with Clark, thought the past won't seem to let you go.

Character: mob!Clark Kent

Note: I don't know where this came from.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :) I appreciate your comments and enthusiasm! Reblogs help and are like candy, so please, feed me.

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

A speck of red. A speck of red in a sea of blue. From the observer's eye, one would not notice. But the creator, the artist, the start error is obvious. No inadvertent, but entirely deliberate. A reminder of what it cost you.

You close your eyes and the fleck of blood sears in your mind. Like the site of your boyfriend gasping his last breaths. Ex, now. For a while. It feels like yesterday yet no time at all.

You shiver and hug yourself through the white cashmere. The sweater offers little warmth in the cold house. The glass doors look out onto the white lawn, a fresh dusting of snow trims the covered pool and blankets the landscape. It would be beautiful to any who did not know the sinister secrets of this place. The crimes witnessed by these walls alone.

You turn away from the portrait hung above the gaping fireplace. Even the crackling flames cannot warm you. There is no comfort in this house or the man who resides there. A warden, a maniac, a murderer.

You near the glass doors, eyes drawn to how the snow gathers in corners. The thin sheet of frost that cakes the panes and the fog of your breath as you stand close. The world outside is obscured by your own existence.

Silence. Stillness. Distance. Isolation. The vast grayness of your small world trapped behind a transparent wall. You touch the handle, feeling the cold metal, gripping it tight. A sudden urge to run out and dive into the heaps.

"Dinner tonight?" Clark's voice claps like thunder through the lull.

You gasp and recoil from the door. You turn to him, hugging yourself as much out of fright as the temperature. You step away from the door and your yearning for escape.

"Dinner," you repeat, your hollow voice echoing off the high ceilings.

"Yes, your mother is coming to town? We'll get her from the airport and take her to Elliston's?"

"Are you asking or telling?" You mutter as you drop your arms, tucking your hands up the cuffs.

You sweep away, crossing to the archway that opens into the spacious kitchen. You go to the counter and flip up the lid of the coffee machine. You focus on the rack of pods. It's habit more than anything, often you let your cup go cold, basking in the scent but too numb to taste it.

He follows. You sense him. Like you always do. Always hovering. Always watching.

"Don't be like this. You've been looking forward to her visit."

You grumble as you pick out the cinnamon cookie pod and shove it in the top. You shrug. Not really. You only ever play the part he wants. Move your brush to his whim, streak the paint by his word, lay on your back as he gets what he wants.

"And I have been too. I can't wait to meet your family. All of them."

Your chest winds tight. You can't tell if it's a threat or genuine. He is always hard to decipher. If you had ever been able to see through him, you wouldn't be standing there, trapped in his house, in his grip.

Five months. Five months in your cell. Five months with Marcus' blood on your soul. 

"I'll get a room ready," you put a mug under the spout and hit the brew button. 

He lurks closer. You stare and wait for the drip to begin. He puts his hands on your shoulders, the fabric turning course beneath the weight of his grasp.

"Nina's already working on it," he growls into your crown, "don't act so hard done by…"

"I'm not," the trickle spits out and hits the porcelain sharply.

"I give your more than he ever–"

You tear away from him, sliding along the counter as you spin to face him. He clucks and tilts his head, slowly pivoting towards you. The anger cordons in his cheek.

"I told you…"

He scoffs. "You're right, he was nothing. Not worth talking about. Sweetheart, it was always going to be me."

You clamp your lips shut as your eyes sting. He doesn't wake up every day in horror, he doesn't sink into sleep like a stone in mud, he doesn’t know what it is to live in black and white when the world used to be painted in a million colours.

"I'll confirm what time she gets in."

He sighs and crosses his arms. You look down at the white sweater and unroll the crumpled hem. You didn't wear cashmere before, no silk, no satin. Just cotton and tweed. Now you wear what he tells you to.

"Find something to wear for dinner," he demands, "and after."

He crosses the pristine tile and you look at him in the face, eyes glossy and pathetic. He kisses your forehead as his hand comes up to your chin, his thumb stroking your lips. He inhales your scent and lets out a growl.

"Wear the diamonds," he demands.

He lets you go and leaves you there. You watch after him as he stalks off, checking the time on his wristband. He clears his throat as he turns out of your sight. Your vision blurs to a muddy blur.

The coffee machine dings and brings you back. As much as you love your mother, how do you explain this to her? Lies are easier on the phone, but face to face, the truth is clear to see.

🎨

Your mother pulls you into a hug, her suitcase forgotten at her side. It's been almost a year since you last saw her. You and Marcus made a rare trip down for her birthday. As solitary as she prefers her life, she cherishes your rare company.

"Tweety bird, it's been so long," she hugs you, swaying you with her. She releases tou and holds you at arm's length, "don't you look like a dead mouse?"

"Ha, yeah, I was up late… painting," you smile thinly.

"Never change," she chides as you sense a shadow approach. Clark grabs the handle of her suitcase and rolls it towards him as he puts his hand on your back. "Oh, who… is this?"

"Clark," you try not to show your frustration. Your mother's always been a touch flightly, "I told you about him."

"Ah, yes, oh, that Marcus," she tuts and shakes her head, "couldn't believe it when you said he ran off but then again, I wasn't unhappy."

"Mom," you sniff.

"Well? He always left his dirty socks on the couch."

You bite the inside of your cheek. You'd rather not talk about him. You fear she'll see right through your story. Clark takes his hand off your back.

"Nice to meet you–" he begins.

"Don't be silly," she pulls him into a hug, an impressive feat as she is rail thin, "you must be the one saving my gal from heartbreak."

"Um, sure," he snorts, "you're Janine?"

"That's the one," she pulls back and fixes her wild waves, "I'm afraid she hasn't given me more than your name."

"She's been busy. Commissions and all," Clark puts on that perfect act. The gentleman with all the charm. The one you fell for. "We hope you're not too tired, I suggested a reservation for dinner…"

"Oh, yes, please, I'm starving. That airplane food is better avoided," she trills, "besides just ask Tweety, I'm mot much of a sleeper."

You shake your head in confirmation and she grins wider. Clark rolls her bag around and waves his arm ahead of him, "ladies."

"Oo, finally got yourself a gentleman."

"Mhmm," you hum as you start forward, "something like that."

🎨

You watch the wine flow into the glass, filling the belly with a rich burgundy colour. Your mother looks around emphatically as Clark gives a curt nod of dismissal to the server. You're left to peruse the menu.

“Wow, this is a fancy place,” your mom comments as she opens the leather folio containing the menu, “where was it Marc would take us? Denny’s?”

You give her a look. It’s strange, you’re mother was never one to turn her nose up at simplicity but there were some very specific sticking points when it came to your boyfriend. Ex. Or maybe money really does corrupt all.

The wine is stringent. You don’t like it. You take a hefty swig and set the stem down heavily. Clark gives you a look. Right, he has his curated image, you have to fit into that.

“So mom, how was your flight?”

“Ah, it’s fine. But I was sat next to this skinny fellow. So nervous. Jittered the whole way. I had to close the window because it made him sick. So I took a nap.”

“I hope you don’t mind shacking up with us. I thought of a hotel but we have more than enough room,” Clark suggests, “after a long day, I’m sure you’d like to just relax.”

“With us? You live together?” Your mom raises her brows.

“You knew this. Remember?”

“No, you said you moved out of your apartment, I don’t remember a where or with who. This is moving fast,” she says, “definitely not a rebound then?”

You cringe. Clark is a better actor than you. He laughs. Or maybe it is really that funny. Laughing at your dead ex and the ensuing predicament. You take another gulp of the disgusting wine.

“Well, the salmon looks interesting, “but I do prefer halibut…” she mulls over the listings, “oh, prawns. Tweety, don’t you remember when you drank all my vodka and puked up seafood all night?”

“Mom,” you swallow.

“Tweety, that’s an interesting nickname,” Clark says, opening the door for further humiliation.

“Ah, yes, well, funny story.”

“Not really,” you intone.

Your mother ignores you as she closes her menu and rests it on the table in front of her. “Her aunt used to give her Tweety Bird everything. Pajamas, stuffies, notebooks… she hates Tweety Bird. Always has but she was too nice to tell my sister so she had this little collection. I bet it’d be worth a bit now. Vintage and all that.”

“Oh, Tweety,” Clark echoes, “interesting. Cute.”

“Yellow did always suit her.”

“Anything suits her, doesn’t it?” He puts his hand over yours, “I tell her all the time. She makes paint stains look incredible. You wouldn’t believe it, at the end of the day she walks out of the studio looking like, uh, what’s that artist that does the splashes?”

“Pollock,” you answer dully.”

“She was always obsessed with men with too much time and not enough talent,” your mother remarks, “art, I’m just happy she isn’t still working at the coffee shop.”

“That was like six years ago,” you retort.

“Still, you have a degree, you should use it.”

“And she does,” Clark assures, “she’s wonderful at what she does.”

“Aw,” your mother almost fawns, “you’re such a sweetheart. Where did she find you and where do I get one?”

You barely restrain from rolling your eyes. Clark basks in the praise. You empty your glass and feel the slosh in your mind. It might be a bit too much but the wine makes the nights go quicker.

You decide on a salad. You’re not hungry. Your appetite is scant at best, food is a necessity, not a joy. Like much of your life now. It makes you miss those numbers you thought were so dire. The easy life of putting numbers in boxes and putting frozen lasagna in the oven.

The server returns and you turn your attention to his convenient arrival. You need the distraction. He nods to your empty glass and you see how Clark takes notice as well.

“Did you require more, mademoiselle?” He offers.

“One will do until we have our entrees,” Clark insists, “no good drinking on an empty stomach.”

You smile and take the stout glass of water from beside the stemmed glass, “thank you. He’s right.”

“Do we know what we’re having?” The server asks.

Clark defers to your mother with a gesture. She orders first. Halibut with the seasonal vegetables. Clark has his usual filet mignon, and you get the cobb salad. You hand over your menu and sit back, twiddling your fingers in your lap.

“Salad,” your mother comments, “when she was a teen, I couldn’t pry the onion rings out of her hands. Now look at her. It’s catching up, isn’t it?”

“Nothing wrong with being mindful,” Clark comments as he brushes his fingertips along his thick beard. He’s let it grow out, his hair too, the curls spiraling past his ears. “It’ll save room for dessert, they have a delicious creme brule.”

“Mmm, amazing–” your mother’s voice catches and she looks past you.

You don’t react right away as another serve sneaks up on you. Clark reaches behind him with one hand, covertly as if trying not to give himself away, and brings it forward as you peek up at the woman all in black. She giddily grins and backs up.

Clark takes a breath and pushes back his chair as he rises. He turns and kneels as the server hovers nearby, hands clutched together. Several other tables hush and servers look up from their work. You feel time halt as your ears ring.

Clark presents a red velvet box as your mouth falls open. For those strangers all around, those who don’t know about you or him, it must look like shock, even glee. But it's thrumming, crashing terror. No. No. Your eyes pinpoint on the large diamonds as he reveals it, three rings of smaller ones around the large.

You look up over his head then over at your mother. She dabs her eyes and covers her mouth in disbelief. You wobble as you turn back to Clark. His voice rumbles in your ears but you can’t make out the words. You blink. And blink. And blink. Gaping like a dead fish.

“...marry me?...”

His question hangs before you. You could keel over and shrivel up. You could stand up and flee. Run until you can’t stop. You close your eyes and see the blood spurting from Marcus’ chest. The image of your mother’s face flits across your mind, replacing his. You won’t let him hurt her too.

“Yes.”

The voice is not your own. It can’t possibly be because you can’t feel it on your tongue but it tickles in your ears. Clark snatches your hand and forces the diamond on, standing as he tugs you up and pulls you into an embrace. He tilts your head and kisses you. The fairy tale he writes for the onlookers is nothing more than a cautionary tale.

[howlingday]

the arc family have a unique tradition, they forge their own swords every time another of their sons reaches the age to begin training, but infuse these weapons with the spirit of said son. this creates a spirit weapon that can grow with the affore mentioned son and help them on their journey. thing is, both jaune and his sword Lucerna Intrepidus are huge dorks who have taken to wandering around vale fighting grimm to try and kick off a grand adventure so they can be heroes. with jaune's dear companion lucy growing stronger with every grimm she devours she's quickly out stripped the 12 year old in strength if only there was someplace she could go with her young partner to make them both stronger and better at fighting! summer has been retired since her run in with salem basically crippled her while her eyes remain in tact the horrors she and raven went through (mainly her since raven only showed back up at the last minute to save her) shattered her soul in ways she's only just starting to recover from. but training ruby and yang has been a fun hobby it's a shame they're going to be entering the combat school, she's got ruby for two more years and yang will still be there to train after school but it's going to be boring during the days without them. if only there was some young impressionable child she could take as an apprentice! papa arc was going to give jaune such a spanking when he found the boy, he seemed to be always just one step behind him! at least his new sword was keeping him alive after he ran off from home into the wilds to be a hero. where could he have gotten to? a story in which everyone keeps missing the plot, or rather everyone is in a different genre of story and the plot keeps switching. tldr: jaune is being trained by a retired summer and is having an action adventure. summer is going through slice of life and papa arc is handling a mystery comedy looking for his lost son who he always seems to just miss seeing only the after math of his actions and having to fix the issues spawned from it.

"Lucie~! Wait uuup~!"

Jaune Arc, a young boy off on an adventure far away from his home, followed the instinctual pull of his sword and companion, Lucierna Intrepidus! Or, as Jaune referred to her, Lucie. She was a marvelous blade, forged with the spirit of Jaune imbued into her core... located exactly on her pommel. She shone a brilliant aqua blue to match her partner's eyes.

"No way!" She called out. "We've only just started! You can't expect us to be heroes by killing just a few rats, can you?"

"N-No, but we never killed anything bigger than a rat." Jaune reasoned as he his feet were nearly dragged.

"So? This is our moment!" The sword raised itself high. "Think of it! Lucierna Intrepidus, the mighty sword held aloft by Jaune Arc, the greatest sword and swordmaster of all time~!"

"Well, maybe some day, but I'm only 12. I still need to go to school and-"

"Forget school! We need a mentor! And until we find one..." A sudden shift to the left knocked Jaune off his feet and sent him rolling down the hill. "Adventure will teach us what to do!"

"Lucie, you're being.... being..."

Not far from where Jaune landed was a Grimm. And not just any Grimm, but a Beowolf. Next to the Ursa, it was the second-biggest Grimm to wander these woods. It's blood-red eyes seemed to catch ablaze at the sight of the young hero. The young hero who was shaking in his boots.

"Uh..."

"S-See?" Lucie said, her voice also quivering. "Adventure's, uh, just ahead of us..." Steeling her nerves, if she had any, she began barking orders to Jaune. "Dueling stance! Sword up! Sword out! Ready to fight!"

Jaune, having been drilled for the past few months by both his sword and his father, snapped into position with his blade set between himself and the black beast stalking towards him with massive jaw wide open.

"Y-Yup! That's it! Now step forward!" Jaune froze. "Hey! Don't embarrass me in our first real fight!" The boy was shoved off-balance by his sword, making him stumble and fall. As he looked up, he saw the monster set upon him. He covered his head with Lucie. "JAUNE!"

--------------------------------------------------

"Kids! Suppertime~!"

Ruby, Yang, and Jaune ran as fast as they could to the dining room. Before they could be told to do so, they set their training weapons upon their respective racks, then went into the bathroom to wash their hands. The three then took their seats at the dinner table, where Taiyang was already setting down the side dishes.

"Do you want roast beef, Yang?" Summer asked.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah~!" The blonde girl practically vibrated in her seat.

"What do you say, Yang?" Taiyang raised his brow.

"Roast! Beef! Roast! Beef~!" Yang chanted, tapping her fork and knife on the table.

"Yang!"

"Roast! Beef! Roast! Beef!" Ruby joined in, chanting with her sister and pounding her tableware in unison.

"Um, I would like roast beef, Mr. Xiao Long." Jaune said timidly. For his politeness, he was rewarded with the thickest (for a child) slab of roast beef placed squarely on his plate, earning whines from the two girls. "And may I have green beans and carrots, too?"

Summer giggled as her girls watched in astonishment as their own father chose her apprentice over them. While they stared, she prepared plates for them before making her own. Taiyang did the same for Jaune before sitting down.

"So, did you kids play anything fun today?" The huntress asked.

"We played hide and seek!" Ruby chirped.

"Jaune cheated." Yang huffed. "He used his sword to peek on us!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Alright, enough!" Taiyang barked. "There will be no fighting at this table. Now, I want you kids to sit there and eat your food quietly." If there were to be any grumblings, they quickly died when Tai gave them the ol' Blue Eye Bane, a glare so chilling that it made you behave real quick!

"Jaune, I was speaking to your mother today." Summer said after slicing her roast beef into little squares. "She's wondering if you're ready for your first day at Signal tomorrow with Ruby."

"Um... I think so..." Jaune answered, unsure if he really was.

"Oh, you will be!" Taiyang said with a smile. "After all, you've had plenty of Tai-me to get ready!" The blond man and his daughter shared a giggle while his wife and her daughter gave a groan. Jaune just looked confused.

"It's okay to be nervous, Jaune." Summer said. "Being nervous just means something is new to you and you don't know what the best way to go forward is. In the end, though, it always come down to one answer."

"Go forward?" Jaune guessed.

"Exactly!" Summer took a bite of her cutlet of roast beef. "Mm~! You've really outdone yourself tonight, dear!"

"Thanks, honey!" Taiyang smiled. "I'd say this beef is better than the roast~!"

"Tai, please..."

--------------------------------------------------

"Oh, please, be here somewhere..."

Nicholas Arc wandered into the quaint, little farming town, hoping to find some clue as to where his son ran off to this time. This was, by and far, the furthest from home Jaune had ever been. It had been almost a week since he left home on the hunt for him, doing his best to not panic at the prospect that his progeny was perforated, pulverized, or otherwise pulled apart by some predacious pests or worse, some kind of putrid pervert.

"No!" He shook his head. He had to stay focused. He had to find his son, and he could only do that with a clear head. And what better way to get a clear head than with coffee?

He entered the convenience store, a chime and a woman about his age greeting him. He greeted her back and headed to the coffee machine. Waiting for his cup to fill, he looked to the lottery tickets. Inside the glass, from and center, was a rabbit with a cute smile and a flower by their ear. The flower's petals were colored in on every other across from each other.

"Pumpkin Patty..." From the Pumpkin Pete Pumpkin Patch Pals Show that his girls loved to watch. And Jaune. In fact, Jaune was especially enamored with the girl rabbit, so much so that he drew her face with that same flower every chance he got-

"MA'AM!" The woman flinched. He pointed to the lottery box. "WHOSE RABBIT DRAWING IS THAT?!"

She looked to the drawing. "Some kid?"

"Was it a boy?!" Nicholas asked, finally pulling himself back if only just for a moment. "Was it a boy who drew that picture?!"

"Sir, I need you to calm down." She waved her hands to the counter. "He just wanted to draw on something while his teacher was waiting for the donuts."

"Teacher?! What teacher?!"

"Some woman in a white robe." She shrugged.

Nicholas would recognize that description anywhere! The White Reaper! The Angel of Death! He thought she'd retired years ago! But now, there was no mistaking it! His son was abducted by...

"SUMMEEER ROOOOOOOOOOOSE!"

The woman looked outside the convenience store to the screaming man. "Sir, you need to pay for that coffee."

[circusmania]

Hello! Can I request Yandere romantic michael myers that know detective reader is secretly a Eldritch Abomination that showing or feeling no interest, enthusiasm, or concern?

Btw i love your writing😊

Yandere!Michael Myers x GN!Reader ꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Notes: Aww! I'm so grateful that you enjoy my writing! Hopefully, you enjoy this one, too. ♡ Also, I hope that it matches what you requested. :')

Muah Muah 🖤

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

WARNINGS: Gore, stalking, mentions of body mutilations (reader + corpses)

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Amidst the rain, flashing red and blue lights could be seen. Haddonfield is quiet on this Halloween night, which is no surprise to the people who live there. No trick-or-treaters are seen on the streets, just police and their cars.

A car pulls up, catching the attention of the officers. Out steps the famous detective, You. You've impressed many with your skills and clue findings, no killer has ever been able to slip past you. Except for a particular man. The Boogeyman. You've been on his trail for years now, and you can't say that you haven't enjoyed the chase.

You step in a puddle, paying no mind to your wet shoes as your assistant scurries over with an umbrella.

“Detective!” He frantically fixes himself as he struggles to hold the umbrella over your head. “It's an 18-year-old girl. She was babysitting a young boy (who thankfully survived) when the killer forced himself into the house and stabbed her many times.”

You two approached the body of the girl. Your assistant turned his head, not wanting to see the gruesome sight. There's blood dripping from every open wound. Her face is twisted in agony and there's no light in her eyes.

“Do you think…. He did it? You know… the Boogeyman.” He whispered as if he was afraid of anyone hearing.

You didn't say anything. Obviously, it was, who else could it have been? You crouched down next to her, no emotion displayed on your face as you put on your gloves.

“Her parents are here…” Your assistant spared you a glance as a car pulled up not far from the crime scene.

“Don't let them come near.” You said, getting up after finishing examining her.

“Shouldn't we let her parents see her…?”

The screams and weeping of the parents could be heard from behind the police tape.

You sigh. “This is no place for a funeral. I don't want them touching the crime scene or moving anything.” You replied sharply.

Your assistant shivers at your coldness. He nods and moves to tell the officers. Suddenly, you notice something on one of the trees next to the body.

A heart had been carved into the trunk of the tree. You moved closer, straying away from the umbrella your assistant was holding. Now drenched in rain, you traced the carving with your finger. Whoever had done this knew how to handle a knife… The carvings were deep and done with passion.

Michael Myers was watching from afar, heavy breathing could be heard from under his mask. His grip tightened on his bloody knife as he saw your assistant yell after you for getting soaked.

Back home, your sanctuary, you finally felt relief. Your house was located deep in the woods to avoid any human interactions. The naked eye couldn't process your naked form.

The human skin stuck to yours. You peeled it off, layer after layer. You're careful not to rip it, as human skin tends to be too fragile for your claws. You laid your drenched skin suit on your chair.

You strolled over to your fridge and opened it. Your amalgamation of a hand reached in and pulled out some sort of meat. You engulfed it, not letting any of your teeth have a chance to penetrate it. You scarfed down any remaining bones on the plate.

All of a sudden, one of your many eyes picked up on a movement outside your window. Your eyes narrowed as you closed your fridge. You don't care if a human ever catches your form. Your bare body would make any sane man explode (literally). So you didn't worry about your secret getting out. However, this was different.

Your acute ears focused on any sounds that would indicate the presence of another being. Abruptly, you heard a twig snap.

You rushed out of your house at an abnormally fast rate. You were ready to confront your stalker, however, once outside, you were greeted with the dark, lonely forest and the song of the crickets you were accustomed to.

Whoever you were dealing with couldn't be human. You scoffed and went back inside, failing to notice the pale mask of the Boogeyman amidst the trees.

You were planning on relaxing the rest of your afternoon, but Michael had other plans. You were called in again when another body had been found dumped in a ravine close to your house. You put back on your skin suit, it was extra tight on you since it hadn't dried off yet.

Once again, you did your usual routine. Examine the body, look for clues and ask questions. Whoever this mysterious Michael Myers was, he sure knew how to put up a game of cat and mouse… And romance you in his own way.

The stab wounds on his victim were in a heart-shaped pattern.

“Ain't it too early for Valentine?” Your assistant attempted to (nervously) crack a joke, which fell on deaf ears.

You remained with a stoic face as you watched them place the body in a body bag.

Each year, the Boogeyman gets bolder and bolder. Yet, never had the guts to face you. Unbeknownst to you, tonight would be different.

Your assistant coughed to get your attention. “I've… got to go… family emergency.”

“Mm, okay.” You turned back to the crime scene.

Your assistant lingered for a while, expecting any worried expression or encouraging words. But was ultimately met with your usual uncaring tone.

Another hour had passed, and you were finally granted permission to go home. Home.

As you arrived home, you parked your car and got out. A beautiful stench filled your nostrils. Laying on your welcome mat was a human heart surrounded by a heart formed of drops of blood.

Your door was ajar.

A twinge of hope that today could be the day you meet him arose. But, it quickly died down as you entered your home.

The smell flooded your house as each step made it stronger and stronger. Like a game of hot and cold, each step you took was warmer and warmer.

Laying on your kitchen table on a fancy dish was the head of your assistant. His tongue was pulled out all the way through his mouth and his teeth were knocked out and laid next to his head.

You ignored him though, because your attention was focused on the giant man standing in the dark hallway. He was bloody, and heavily breathing, but somehow quiet…. He was awaiting your next move.

Perhaps the thing that sparked Michael's obsession with you wasn’t that you weren’t human, but the fact that you never showed any ounce of fear towards him. Or maybe because you both shared a taste for carnage.

Your human skin faltered as your smile stretched beyond human capabilities. Your eyes were gouging out of your sockets as your appearance looked less and less human.

In all of your and Michael's years, this may be the first time a spark of emotions illuminated in both of your empty bodies.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

[chickenkurage]

"The worst caretaker…...DJ Welch himself"

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Summary: Alan had some errands to attend to and left the hollow pineapples in DJ's care. He trusted DJ implicitly; after all, he had proven his reliability with the apples. Surely, DJ could handle looking after the hollow pineapples... or so Alan thought.

Tag: Comedy, Humor, Slight Hurt/Injury (mostly DJ)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"Hey, where are you headed?" DJ asked, tearing his attention away from the TV, with Red and Green engrossed in the movie on his lap, while Yellow and Blue dozed on his left leg.

"Oh, just running some errands. This means I'll need to entrust the pineapples to you," Alan explained, flashing a small smile as DJ heaved a sigh.

"You know I can't handle the chaos those four bring," DJ deadpanned. "Well, three, Vic isn't that wild... yet," he added, a shiver running down his spine, prompting a raised eyebrow from Alan.

"I trust you won't let them come to harm. The apples can be just as unruly," Alan remarked, tilting his head as DJ chuckled, gently petting the heads of Green and Red, eliciting soft 'meep' sounds from the pair.

"Well, they can be chill if they want to... but how long will you be gone exactly?" DJ raised an eyebrow, prompting a thoughtful hum from Alan. "I'm not entirely sure, but rest assured, I'll be back sooner than you can imagine," Alan reassured, flashing a grin as DJ scratched his head, mulling over the timeframe.

"Well," DJ began tentatively, his voice slightly higher as he debated internally. "Meep?" Second peeked out from the wall, prompting all four apples on DJ's lap to spring up excitedly and leap off the sofa. "There they go... ugh, fine, I'll take care of them," DJ groaned, resigned to the task as Alan let out a small laugh.

"Thanks, DJ. I knew I could rely on you," Alan chuckled, shaking his head as Second hoisted Red above his head and dashed around. DJ yelped, leaping to his feet and chasing after them.

"Great catch!" Alan laughed as DJ swiftly dove to the floor, managing to intercept Red and Second just before they tumbled down.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"Cho, stop that! Don't!" DJ exclaimed, wresting the knife from the black pineapple's grasp and pulling him close, only to be pummeled by Cho's relentless punches. With a groan, DJ carefully placed the knife on the kitchen cabinet. Turning around, his eyes widened at the sight of Dark poised to dunk Vic into a pot of boiling water.

"Dark, no!" DJ yelled, swiftly intervening to rescue both Dark and Vic, their surprised 'chip's echoing loudly. "Oh, help me, above," DJ cried out, swiftly carrying the two pineapples to the living room and depositing them on the couch where the apples were peacefully napping in a dogpile.

"Don't you all take afternoon naps? Look at my kids," DJ gestured towards the apples snuggled together. He then turned back to the pineapples, who were chattering and chirping amongst themselves. "Ugh," DJ groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, half-tempted to swaddle them all in a burrito and hang them from the stair rails.

"I’m half tempted to stuff you all in a sock, you know that, right?" DJ threatened, eyeing the pineapples, Sec responding with a chip before dashing to embrace the serene Vic, who remained unperturbed.

"Please, just try to be more like Vic. Look at him, so chill. Why can't you all—wait... where's Dark?" DJ's eyes widened as he counted the hollowheads, stopping at three; the red hollowhead was missing. A grinding sound caught his attention, and he turned to see Dark atop the cabinet, nudging a vase towards the edge.

"For goodness' sake!" DJ growled, sprinting towards Dark, managing to catch both the vase and Dark just before they tumbled down. The sudden save caused DJ to stumble, hitting his side against the cabinet in the process.

With a groan, torn between the pain and the urge to scold Dark, DJ's emotions softened when Dark emitted a frightened 'chip,' prompting a sigh from DJ. After carefully returning the vase to its place, he rubbed his side, contemplating his next move.

"Dark, don't do that again... or else," DJ warned, fixing an intense glare on Dark, who nodded in understanding, clinging to DJ's thumb with his tiny arms.

"Don't repeat that, understand? I'll really stuff you in a sock," DJ reiterated firmly, Dark nodding repeatedly in response. Letting out a sigh, DJ gave him a gentle pat. "Good—” DJ's smile faltered as a loud crash interrupted him. Whirling around, he found only Vic beside Green on the couch.

"What—?" DJ began, before spotting Sec and Cho locked in a scuffle on the floor, toppling the coffee table in their tussle. "What the heck?!" DJ exclaimed, leaping into action to separate them, with Dark perched on his arm, watching the chaos unfold, possibly even encouraging Sec to land a punch on Cho's face.

Dark waved his stubby arms as DJ intervened to prevent Sec and Cho from engaging in a full-blown brawl. "Stop, both of you! I swear to Alan, I'll tie you up and turn you into chandeliers!" DJ threatened, but Sec and Cho persisted in their scuffle.

It took nearly an hour of tireless effort for DJ to finally lull the pineapples to sleep, a task that consumed much of his day. Carrying the four troublesome fruits, he tried various methods to coax them into slumber. Now, utterly drained, DJ found himself groaning in exhaustion, resting his head on the armrest of the couch. The apples and pineapples lay peacefully asleep beside him, the room finally quiet 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"Yellow, out of everyone, I trust you. Please, watch over all of them," DJ implored, gazing down at Yellow, who nodded in understanding. With a sense of reassurance, Yellow turned to observe the apples and pineapples left in the cart, alongside the empty baskets awaiting a fresh harvest of apples.

"Meep!" Yellow saluted, offering DJ a nod before bouncing back towards the cart and climbing up. DJ emitted a sound that was a mix of a groan and a sigh as he redirected his attention to the trees. Retrieving his gloves from his pockets, he slid them on, preparing for the task ahead.

With a deep breath, he stretched his arms overhead, letting out a groan before winding up for a swing. His fist connected with the tree in a swift motion, causing apples to rain down into the awaiting baskets. The tree bark groaned loudly, and the roots beneath the soil snapped, gradually tilting the tree until it fell in one fluid motion.

"Oops," DJ winced as the tree tumbled, but he quickly turned his attention to the cart, exhaling with relief as he saw all the apples and pineapples still safely gathered. As long as they stayed put and didn't wander off, they would be out of harm's way.

The thought of a tree falling on them made DJ shudder, a scenario he hoped to avoid at all costs. With a deep breath, he gathered the baskets and carried them back to the cart. "Looks like you're all having fun...playing cards? Where did you get those?" DJ raised an eyebrow, spotting Dark attempting to conceal the cards behind his back.

The group glanced nervously at DJ before he burst into laughter, wiping a tear from his eye. Dark let out an annoyed 'meep' in response.

"Alright, you guys can play poker, but if Alan catches you, don't blame me," DJ chuckled, giving them a playful warning as he gestured for them to continue their game. With a wave, he headed towards the next tree.

Amidst the playful meeps and chips of the fruits, DJ chuckled softly. After rotating his shoulder a few times, he proceeded to fell one tree after another, the repetitive thuds echoing through the orchard.

"Maybe I should take it down a notch," DJ muttered to himself as he surveyed the fallen trees. The expanse of apple trees on their land seemed excessive, posing a challenge for him as he wasn't keen on deforestation. It was also becoming tiresome to handle the excess wood, especially with the surplus already stored in the barn by Alan.

"Ugh," DJ groaned, rolling his eyes as he wiped sweat from his forehead, feeling the weight of his physical exertion. With a sigh, he directed his attention to the last tree scheduled for today. After a brief moment of preparation, he approached it, rolling his shoulders and giving them a light massage to relieve some tension.

He turned towards the cart, releasing a relieved sigh at the sight of the fruits still perched atop the baskets. Each of them held their own apples, even Red balancing one on his head. The scene brought a small smile to DJ's face

DJ snickered at the sight of the fruits being surprisingly endearing when they weren't causing chaos.

He refocused on the task at hand and delivered the strongest punch he could muster, causing the tree and the apples to tumble simultaneously. Grinning with satisfaction, he dusted his hands off, only to let out a startled yell at the sight of Dark positioned behind the falling tree.

"Shit! Dark!" DJ's cry pierced the air as he lunged towards the pineapple, his knees skidding on the grass as he threw himself over Dark, shielding him from the imminent danger of the descending tree. The weighty tree crashed down on top of them, enveloping them in darkness.

Amidst the crushing weight, a fleeting thought crossed DJ's mind, a nap wouldn't be so bad. His body ached as he felt Dark shifting beneath him. Gritting his teeth against the discomfort, he managed to push the tree aside, allowing Dark to wiggle free from his grasp.

Dark's concerned 'Meep! Meep! Meep!' filled the air as he patted DJ's cheek, as DJ's eyes fluttered shut, succumbing to the overwhelming exhaustion and pain.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“Everyone relax, he’s just sleeping, we’re hollowheads, we can’t get hurt easily”. As DJ slowly regained consciousness, a familiar voice chuckled nearby. 

Opening his eyes groggily, he felt a weight on his side and chest. "Al?" DJ mumbled, rubbing his head in confusion.

"DJ, how did it feel for a tree to fall on you?" Alan's laughter filled the air as DJ sat up, letting out a grunt of discomfort. The apples and pineapples leaped onto his lap, emitting a chorus of meeps and chips as they clamored around him, hugging his chest in relief.

"It was pretty intense. Okay, everyone, relax, I'm not dead yet," DJ reassured them, a chuckle escaping his lips. He observed Dark grabbing onto his jumper and climbing up to perch on his shoulder, emitting a soft 'meep' while hugging DJ's cheek with a hint of sadness and regret.

Amused by the scene, Alan watched with a hand over his mouth, attempting to stifle his laughter. DJ rolled his eyes playfully. "At least you feel bad. Your father here doesn't even seem to care that you guys were almost traumatized," DJ teased, prompting a grin from Alan.

It was until later that DJ and Alan found themselves cuddling on the couch. Lulled by the peaceful scene with the fruits nestled between them, DJ couldn't help but voice his exhaustion. "I am never taking care of your kids ever again, man," he mumbled, stifling a yawn as he felt Alan chuckle beside him.

"Can't keep up, old man?" Alan teased, provoking a raised eyebrow from DJ. "You wish. By the way, you're older than me," DJ retorted with a grin, prompting a chuckle from Alan in response.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Thank @kiaerinnn for pushing me to create this xDD, I realized I don't feed you guys much, OOPS xD. Anyways, just request and I'll give - S

[rustys-lodge]

hi love, can i request a Shelby sister fic where she’s kind of like sandie (last night in soho) where she dreams of making it big as a showgirl and she meets a man who promises her the world kind of like a pimp. she gets caught up in that showgirl life and her brothers do everything to stop her and she like loses it basically the plot of last night in Soho pretty much (re writing it cause i keep checking!)

Warnings : physical violence, prostitution, blood, murder, basically all the stuff that goes on in the movie.

A/N : i wrote half of this in class lol, i wish i could have posted it when you sent the request again but i had lots of homework. Anyways, i hope i didn't dissapoint. ❤❣

------

"Close your eyes."

You can't. they're going to be looking back.

"Y/n, close your eyes!"

You can't.

"I said, close your fuckin' eyes."

"I fucking can't." You hurl the words out of your mouth like a rabid dog's bark.

You can't close your eyes. All you see is their faces. The faces of the men that used your silence for their own selfish pleasures. You couldn't close your eyes because all you could see was their slashed faces, more specifically, the blood gushing out, their irises wide, your own disgusting reflection firing in their terrified eyes and those tears that never seemed to dry.

---

A few days ago, you were at your last straw, you were fighting that urge, that last one, the one that needed to go the most.

You hurried up the stairs, the soles of your feet stinging with every step you took. your hand took ahold of the handle, enhancing your balance and so, propelling you forward,helping you gain a few more crucial seconds, you hurried to the room, shutting the door closed just in time for him to get to you. You locked the door and pressed your back against it.

A loud bang vibrated the door you were leaning against. Startled, your heart thudded every time his fist collided with the wood.

Another bang sounded...And another one.... relentless and eager to get you to die. Your body shook to your core and you squeezed your eyes tight, the blue and the red lighting of the bistro still seeping through your shut eyelids.

You needed an escape. You needed to-

"Open this fucking door, you whore. You know you did this to yourself, now open this fucking door."

You needed to kill him. That's it.

You marched to the bed, tucking your hand under the pillow to retrieve the knife you so long hid under there. Your little protector. Your fingers tightly squeezed the handle and you walked back to the door, your hand eagerly pushing the handle down.

That's it. I'm doing it. I'm killing him.

As the door frame swung open, your agent, Jack, stood at the door, only his silhouette was apparent, his head was cocked to the side, he stared at you. Although his eyes were shadowed by his propelled brow ridge, you knew that he was staring. because you knew him. And you held the knife even closer to you. And you would've used it, if he hadn't barked at your face.

"You know you deserve it, slut."

You froze at the comment, not that it's the first time you heard it, it's the shock that comes with it every time, the sudden realization of your current situation, where you'd gotten and where you w-

A sudden ache etched from your jaw when Jack's palm violently made contact with it, snapping you out of your thoughts and sending you backwards, with a sudden rush of adrenaline.

You were more than ready to fight. but you needed not to die first.

You shifted away as Jack stormed over to you, bending down swiftly take ahold of your footbut your good reflexes were even faster, you kicked him backwards, hard. Hard enough to have him staggering.

"Stop it, slut." Jack's hand swung again, grabbing your ankle, hindering you from kicking again.

"Leave. Me. Alone." Your hand scrambled around for the knife that fell from your hand earlier but you got interrupted when jack's body suddenly jolted forward, crashing over your own body, squeezing the air in your lungs shut.

"I got him."

A voice that sounded like a divine presence spoke and you recognized it right away, hoarse and angry. You just couldn't bel-believ-believe....Or brea-breathe..

As the man's doubled weight got lifted off of you, you drew the deepest breath in, still unable to process or comprehend what had just happened.

"It's okay, sweetheart, we're here now."

Your eyes followed the voice, and figures of the Shelby brothers seemed to stand by the door, like angels guarding god's little creatures. One of them, Tommy, who reached his hand out for you. But still frozen, you didn't take it.

"It's okay, honey, he's gone." As you were unresponsive, He scooped you up from the ground you laid on.

"It's okay, honey, he's gone."

From the corner of your blurred eyes, you saw Jack's cadaver being kicked and spat on. You'd smile. But your jaw was too numb.

"It's ok-"

--

"it's okay, Sweetheart."

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you turn the other way, facing away from him.

A very frustrated sigh leaves his lips. He's still calm, though. "I told you i won't let anything like this ever happen to you again, sweetheart. I'm here now."

A second later the bed frame roars and Tommy is hugging you from the back;

For a very quick second you're about to startle, but Tommy proceeds by softly whispering into your ear first, "It's okay. It's just me." His arm envelops your chest, sending the warmth of his body vibrating into yours.

"I see them too. They may not be the same people but i see them too. Im here.".

-----

Hello, yall, i will be changing accounts soon. I'm going to start writing on the other one, if yall have any requests, please go on that one. ❤️❤️❤️🥀🥀🥀

[tinycheesecakedetective]

...I'm baaaack.

I mean, I made one post about Swap!PV and then got distracted for months, so I wouldn't really call this a comeback. The moment I did come back though, apparently a bunch of lore just fell from the sky! Beast Yeast is upon us and all of a sudden I remember making an alt. version of this goober.

Turns out there were a few things I wasn't satisfied with in the first one, so here I am with my Swap!Vanilla 2.0 human edition! Even after all this time I still don't have a name for him. There's more white in his design, he has four horns instead of two and they form a crown on his head(that might be a bit hard to see), he also has a halo, his staff changed drastically, and he lost his soul gem. Instead he has two new smaller gems on his "ribcage".

This time around I tried to invoke more death themes, hence the ribcage, more wrappings, the halo, and the burn marks from, y'know, being re-baked and essentially reborn. The halo also makes for a nice double meaning, showing his somewhat good intentions behind the violence and spreading chaos gig.

Speaking of intentions, I maybe or maybe not have mentioned the only swaps happening in this proposed AU are between PV and WL and [possibly] Black Raisin and Red Velvet. I say maybe because if I checked, all the writing would disappear and I would have to start over again. However, I have wondered if those two swapped, how would PV handled the kingdoms? Would it be the same as DE or would the fates of each kingdom end up being swapped as well? It's something I definitely need to think on and develop.

Anyways, ramble break, here's a few doodles I did for Swap!PV!

Yeah, I had a lot of fun doing this. SO! A few changes not mentioned prior. Eyes! There are more eyes, especially on his coat. I took a bit of inspiration from a certain blue jester and his realm of nightmares. It also plays nicely with the whole "truth revealed" theme. Why not give the holder of the light of truth a bunch of opened eyes to represent his awakening? Also they looked good and his cape-coat was too plain without it.

Fun Head Canons: He's always floating, even when he's relaxing his feet never touch the floor. This PV still has a lily garden, it's just hidden away because while he still misses WL despite everything, he refuses to show weakness in front of others. His coat can take the shape of angel wings when angry and multiple eyes can appear when furious or in distress. Speaking of eyes, the ones on his coat glow. Those gems on him are pieces of moonstone that got corrupted after saving him.

As for the story behind him, I had to make a few adjustments. For one, DE and WL are two halves of the same whole, and the only reason either of them exists is thanks to precautions taken by Elder Faerie. Which means Pure Vanilla somehow has to get the stuff from Lily, who came to Beast Yeast without saying much of anything to anyone beforehand. Secondly, it means the Pure Vanilla Kingdom can't be the last kingdom explored. Pre Beast Yeast, the order in which the kingdoms would be explored would change, where White Lily's area would be explored first instead and the Vanilla Kingdom would be last. I'll address the second issue on a different post related to White Lily, but first things first. Fair warning, I wrote quite a bit.

~~~

After forming the seal, White Lily falls ill due to the immense amount of power used. She's not used to using so much of her soul gem, much less creating a seal to lock away ancient evils. Seeing her faltering state, Elder Faerie takes her away to his palace to help her recover. During her time in the palace, White Lily becomes distressed because not only does she feel like she's being a burden, but she won't be able to continue her research on how cookies were made. That was the whole point of coming here, after all. She left her friends and home behind to find the truth and ended up sick and bed ridden instead. The least she could do to redeem herself was to find the truth.

Racked with guilt and regret, she asks Elder Faerie for two favors; she wishes to know the secret behind cookies' creation, and she requests a pen and paper to write with. Before long, White Lily gains a messenger(Silverbell) who gives her books from the library to read, and a way to reach the one other person she understands. Someone who should've known where she was most of all. Pure Vanilla Cookie.

From there the two keep exchanging letters as White Lily brushes up on fae and beast lore. But eventually White Lily would learn about the Night of the Witches in a similar enough way to canon, i.e. finding the book about it. While she's recovered enough, she's still not well enough to go, and Elder Faerie isn't risking her well being and safety for a banquet. She's devastated that her questions may never be answered. If only she could go, if only there was some way to witness it while being in the Fairy Kingdom. And then... she realizes something. Perhaps there is a way for her to know after all...

White Lily, in the discomfort of her hospital bed, writes a letter to Pure Vanilla and asks him to go to the Witch's Banquet in her place. She knows that this is a huge ask, and he has every reason to refuse the favor, but it would mean the world to her if he did. Elder Faerie hears about this and is rightfully worried, telling her about the dangers, and any cookie that goes doesn't come back the same, if at all. He sends his own letter to Pure Vanilla to warn him of the dangers that lie ahead. A few more letters come in from WL apologizing for her request, saying it was out of line and inappropriate. "What a selfish request," she thinks, "after leaving him in the dark for so long, I have the nerve to ask him for anything at all?"

However, despite everything, he eventually decides to go. He knows that this means everything to her, and a part of Pure Vanilla secretly wondered about it as well. White Lily searched heaven and earth to find the truth so she could help others. Why would he keep avoiding it for so long? If he knew the truth as well, perhaps he could use these secrets to help the people of Earthbread alongside her. Maybe now he would finally understand White Lily more.

He wrote a letter addressed to both WL and EF about his final decision. White Lily is surprised at his decision, and is eternally grateful, while Elder Faerie is more resigned and concerned, knowing that he won't be able to change his mind but still wanting to help. He asks her to help write her next letter, and the two send a package to Pure Vanilla. Inside was another letter with the faint smell of lilies, as well as a map to the location of the banquet and a moonstone from Elder Faerie as a show of goodwill and for protection. He in turn sends what would become his final letter to her, unbeknownst to the two reading. He expresses his gratefulness to both WL and EF and declares his determination to find answers both for her and for the sake of everyone, stating, "Let me be your hope when you have none, and you my guiding light in shadows..."

Pure Vanilla proceeds to head to the Witch's Banquet, discovers the bitter truth, and in his attempts to save the other cookies falls into the ultimate dough. The fleeting scent of lilies is the last thing he grasps in his final moments, and the faint glow of a moonstone ensures his survival. His soul gem shatters under the weight of the truth and is scattered across the world, longing to be made whole once again.

~~~

Well! I think I have said everything I can say about him for now. I'm sure I can come up with more things later, but if you read this far, thanks for reading! I did not know I was going to say this much, so yeah. Next post is for White Lily specifically, I hope. I'm also taking suggestions for ideas about the other kingdoms and ways this could go, so if you have anything to suggest, let me know. Y'all have a good evening!

[starwrighter]

I am not a baby!! (Yes you are)

(Ao3) (Masterpost) (Previous) (Next)

(Chapter sixteen lmao)

He can't do this by himself. There was far too much ground to cover and far too little time. Every second that ticked by was another that the hatchling could be mauled.

“I lost the hatchling,” Guilt laced his voice as absolute mayhem broke out throughout the bond. Everyone was talking all at once, pelting questions at him.

“How could you lose him?!” Damian had no excuse. He should have paid closer attention. Something precious was entrusted to him and he'd squandered it. This was a failure he’ll have to carry with him for the rest of his life.

“Hold on, I'll be there in a minute,” Dick said, Damian made no protest.

Damian continued his search of the shallows, attempting to shove himself into caves, making as much noise as possible to lure the child into inspecting. If there was one thing he’s learned about the hatchling while watching him, it was that he’s territorial and curious.

Mere minutes passed before his brother was at his side.

“Is he dead? What do you mean you lost him?”

“I don’t know! He just vanished!”

Dick circled the shallows, nose pointed towards the surface. “I don’t smell blood,”

The hatchling’s blood had a distinct copper smell, that along with its deep red hue made it disturbingly easy to find corpses. He couldn’t be far, they'd find him soon. Even the tiniest of cuts would alert them of his presence. All they had to do was search.

“I think I found him!” Dick called out, his excitement killed by the painful-sounding wheeze of a Crashfish shooting out of its plant. The elder recoiled, thrashing backward, trying his best to avoid the explosive charging straight for him.

He failed, the blast spreading soot against the pale blue of his scales. The sudden explosion paired with the static electricity radiating off his body, resulted in a pained shriek from his brother. His own electricity damaged him, the stress causing jolts of electricity to shoot off him in response. His body seized, tail thrashing through the water, kicking massive clouds of sand up.

A frazzled expression rested on his brother's face, hand swiping at a threat that didn’t exist anymore. In any other situation, he might’ve found this hilarious, but now it was just a waste of precious time.

Precious time that could be used to find the-

“Go wAy”

It was faint, but hidden within the base of a creep vine stalk was the hatchling. The vines curled around the child’s body, tiny fingers curled around the handle of a blade almost bigger than his entire forearm. Odd, the hatchling would have come charging up to attack them but instead, the hatching nestled himself deeper in the vine, seemingly unaware of his detection. Kyanite blue eyes darted between him and Dick, eyes lingering on the elder. Apparently, Dick didn’t feel the wariness radiating off the hatchling in consistent waves of anxiety. If he did, maybe he would've refrained from squealing like Crabsnake and rushing towards the guppy.

“He’s so little!” The elder squealed, making grabby hand at the hatchling who held the blade out in warning. The hatchling wasn't the type to give warnings, only taking a few split seconds to attempt to tear flesh with tiny teeth too weak to do so. Something was preventing the hatchling from attacking Dick. Damian had a hunch as to what it was.

A peeper flipped belly up upon contact with Dick’s electric field. The elder didn’t seem to realize an aura of literal death surrounding him wasn’t appealing to a baby who couldn't understand they weren’t going to eat him. The little one flinched backward swiping wildly through the ocean.

Before Damian had the chance to snap, the guppy darted behind him, gripping onto a fin and attempting to use Damian as a shield.

“Damian, tell him I’m safe,” The elder begged, like Damian had any control over a guppy’s behavior! He wasn't some stalker who could be trained by tossing a couple pieces of meat in their direction! While it was possible to behavior train sentient beings, it was a hassle. A hassle that would land him another scolding from father who’d be… less enthused after the “incident” with Drake.

“Do you think I have him trained?” The elder paused as if considering what to say next. Good.

“I mean… Do you?”

“No! I didn’t train a baby,” He roared, tucking the child beneath a clawed hand, enough space for the child to dart through the gaps in his fingers but not enough for Dick to grab at him.

“DaMi ProtEct mE”

Dick froze, a squeal so high in pitch it disoriented a stalker that wandered into the shallows. “He knows your name! Come on kiddo, say my name too!” The elder encouraged, much to the hatchling’s terror. Damian sighed, lifting his claws to swipe at his elder brother.

“OW! What was that for?!” Dick pouted, rubbing his cheek.

“You’re scaring him!”

"I am not! right buddy?” Dick reached for the hatchling, the little one ducking away from the elder's open grasp.

“Scary,”

The hatchling screamed, the sound unnerving, sending shivers down their spines as the little one clung to Damian like a lifeline. Dick couldn’t have looked any more heartbroken.

“I told you, having both of us here would stress him out!” Damian snapped.

“You asked us to come help you find him!” The elder defended.

“Well, here he is. You can go now!”

"But-"

“Until Father dismisses me from this mission himself I will be the one watching this hatchling,” Damian interrupted.

“Damian…You know how fragile these babies are, we all need to be there for him,”

“I am perfectly capable of watching a hatchling on my own!” Damian snapped.

“You lost him about an hour ago,” Dick reminded.

“Irrelevant,” The hatchling squirmed, darting between his claws and booking it towards the surface. The hatchling did this often. Damian had learned pretty early on that it wasn’t cause for concern.

“…” Dicks silence spoke a thousand words. Damian prepared to explain the harmlessness of the action but was interrupted by his brother speaking.

“He breathes air?” The question rippled through the sea. It was an odd trait for a hatchling to have, very few creatures had the ability to breathe air. If you stuck close to the surface, you could see one of the only land dwellers flying through the sky.

“What is he?” They already knew all the babies came from artificial structures. Artificial structures that crashed down from the stars when shot down by the precursor’s structure. The children looked like their more vulnerable forms, just without the tails to jet them through the water. The all the hatchlings had legs different than anything they'd seen before. Legs suited for both land and sea.

“My guess is he’s like a cave crawler,” The child could swim, unlike cave crawlers who just walked around on the seabed. But they both shared the ability to walk on land. The hatchling stood on a piece of coral sticking out above water, staring at them intently.

The two of them watched the hatchling swim around, Damian smacking Dick to ease the child’s fear whenever he got too close for the guppy’s comfort.

“Stop hitting me!” Dick cried dramatically.

“Go back to the bulb zone and I will,” Damian snapped.

“Your electricity is killing the fish!” As if to prove his point, a garyfish floated into Dick’s electric field, almost popping from the sheer voltage the other was giving off.

“What do you think it’ll do to the hatchling if you actually manage to grab him, huh?” Damian questions, realization dawning on the eldest.

“Go back to the bulb zone and calm yourself. That Crashfish clearly stressed you out,” Damian finished, waving the other away.

“Fine, but I expect you to keep us updated!” Dick called out, boosting away from the shallows, using his hands to launch himself at top speed.

“We wIn!”

The hatchling declared, circling around him for a few seconds before fleeing to his nest.

Damian sighed, glad that the hatchling finally grew tired of attacking him.

@ashoutinthedarkness @avelnfear @meira-3919 @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @hugsandchaos @blep-23 @zeldomnyo @bytheoldwillowtree @justwannabecat @shepherdsheart @starlightcat04 @stargazing-bookwyrm @pupstim @dragongoblet @noxcheshire

[seiwas]

hi sel!! i missed seeing you around dash - i hope you’re enjoying your lil vacation!

n for your lil game.. if it appeals.. may i suggest touya + rain/storm ?

scar hello!! sorry i've been on and off these past months 🥹 i missed being on here too!! i have been enjoying my lil vacation though 🥺 it's been a while since i've just chilled at home! thank you for sending in a prompt 💗

contains: fallen angel touya, visions in dreams, kind of disorientating what's reality vs not, reader tries melatonin, there is a fire

touya + storm

there's a storm outside your window.

the rattling of string lights on your balcony jolts you awake, the wind howling an eery melody. this weather is common at this time of the year, but tonight, you feel uneasy. you think there's something on your front yard.

your footsteps are light as you make your way down your staircase, the flashlight on your left hand clutched tightly as you reach for the umbrella by the door.

it's zero visibility on your front yard, heavy rainfall being dragged sideways by the wind. you squint, flashing your light at the area in front of you.

a broken branch from your neighbor's tree dangles loosely towards your fence, but you can't make out anything else apart from that. you contemplate stepping outside to get a better look, but a burst of light streaks itself across the sky, lightning flashing before thunder rumbles loud enough that it reverberates in your heartbeat. a sudden chill breezes over you, your skin prickling from strands of hair standing.

your flashlight flickers, the light going out once before you tap it on your wrist twice. and when it turns back on, you think you can make out a figure hunched over the shrub at the far right of your garden.

you flash your light over the area to get a better look but it turns black―your vision or the light, you're not sure.

the next time you open your eyes, you're tucked in bed, squinting your eyes at the brightness of sunlight.

a dream? you wonder. the jacket you're certain you reached for is still right by your vanity, untouched. could be.

your front yard is trashed, just like you expected it to be, if your subconscious was trying to tell you anything from last night's dream. plants are uprooted, with small branches scattered all over the grass. you suck in a breath when you spot the broken branch from last night just as you saw it―still barely hanging on as it dangles over your fence.

you must have heard it break off in your sleep, you tell yourself. the mind can be quick in associating these things.

things become weird after that.

you get more visions in your sleep, mostly when the storm beats heavy raindrops against your window. sometimes, they're the same as the first time―instances of you searching outside but blacking out and waking in your bed the next morning. others, they're stranger, more vivid. you see a man with white hair turning red at the tips.

he comes to you in flashes―in between lightning strikes and thunder claps; in fragments, distorted by sheets of rainfall. you can never fully make out his face, but his eyes glow a striking blue amidst the darkness that often surrounds him.

the melatonin makes it worse. for a few nights now, you've begun to see more of his silhouette, similarly hunched over that shrub from the first night, except it grows taller, almost as if he's standing.

you wake up every time he almost reaches full height. but were you even really sleeping?

your therapist tells you it must be stress. this particular time at work is busy, after all. and, "halloween festivities can be impressionable when the mind is tired."

so you let it go, hoping that the dreams disappear eventually.

but then you find a feather. it's long, far too long to belong to any animal you know of; the color is charcoal black, with its tips slightly crisp as if it's been burnt. you find it by the shrub, where the silhouette crouches over every night in your dreams.

your palms sweat as you handle it, a mixture of anxiety and fear. you feel sick to your stomach; scared and disoriented. what even is real?

you call your friend, midoriya, to keep you company. he's no cynic, but if anyone could think up an explanation for anything, it'd have to be him. he has notebooks and journals full of analyses and theories on a bunch of weird things.

"can you tell if he's... uh..." he tries to find the words, as if trying not to scare you, "demonic?"

though with how jittery he is, you're pretty sure he's just as, if not more, nervous.

"i don't know yet," you admit, setting down his blanket for the night, "i guess he does feel kinda angry, but..." you think back to those blue eyes, trying to discern the exact emotion in them, "not at me i think. i don't know."

midoriya jots down some more notes as rain increasingly patters outside your window. you're sure he'll spend the whole night figuring this out from the way he continues to ask you more questions.

that night, you dream of the figure again, but something about this time feels ominous; larger. it starts out with his face, lightning illuminating glimpses of his expressions. you see scars across his cheeks and his hair turning a shade darker. another crackle of lightning brings him further away, hunched over the shrub again, except this time, he begins to stand; and you're prepared to wake up again right before he shows himself in full height―except you don't.

he stands before you still concealed by the downpour, but his presence is simultaneously chilling yet glorious. and you don't expect it, what happens next―the unfurling of wings right by his sides. they span the width of your entire yard, large and so unlike anything you've ever seen before.

then, an alarm breaks, and you wake, neither in bed nor on your front porch.

your feet touch wet asphalt, the sensation hardly differentiating itself from how drenched you are by the rain. thick smoke fills your lungs as you stand before a blazing house a few streets down yours. sirens sound around you―an ambulance, a firetruck, and a police car, all managing the commotion.

people evacuate their nearby houses as the policemen round them up at a safe distance. out of everyone in the scene, you seem the closest of all, the heat from the fire nearly licking at your cheeks.

"everybody, please step back!" one of the firemen shout. to your right, another one hurriedly hauls a body down to the stretcher beside you. a paramedic immediately tends to the person before you can even catch a look.

"please step back!" the fireman closest to you calls out, but the sound is muffled in your ears, almost by a dull ringing and the subtle sound of wings flapping. an unexplainable urge pulls you toward the body.

"hey―!" the fireman tries to call for your attention, but you ignore him, inching closer towards the stretcher. you tiptoe to get a better look, and as you catch a glimpse of the body's face―

the fireman holds you by the shoulder, "i said―!" as another paramedic addresses you and asks, "do you know this man?"

and right there on the stretcher is him―white hair with red at the tips; his cheeks are an angry shiny red, like its been melted, burnt. he remains only semi-conscious, eyes half-lidded as he is tended to. but when you peer over, he blinks and manages to look at you.

you find the same striking blue.

[cloudyskydreams]

Scenario: the sanses are being chased by a murderer and when they get cornered in the woods bonewalker shreiks and tears the murderer into tiny bits and pieces before dragging the end body to their cave (he protects his friends)

HOW DO THE SANSES REACT?!

Bonewalker to the rescue!!! They're quickly becoming one of my favs to see in my inbox lol.

To set the mood boyos magic is depleted so they can't really fight back, they've been running for ten minutes straight now and it's getting darker and darker in the woods. Their souls are screaming out with hopelessness. When all of a sudden a loud shriek causes the attacker to pause and then try and run. The boys are shocked to see Bonewalker quickly emerge from where they were hidden in the trees and tear into the attacker ripping flesh and muscle from bone. Once done Bonewalker stands up and looks over his friends checking to make sure they're alright before grabbing his now dismembered prey and bringing it home.

Thanks Buddy I guess you're alright: Sans, Red, Edge,Stretch

You could've been less murdery but thanks for the assist anyways: Papyrus, Willow,Blue

Trying not to slip into an episode from what they just watched: Willow, Axe

Sans, Red, Edge, And Stretch are thankful for the chance coincidence of Bonewalker being in the right place right time to save their lives. They probably feel a little indebted and will treat Bonewalker better now.

Blue and Papyrus are also thankful but they do think it could have been less gorey and uh murdery. They're a tad traumatized honestly everyone is a bit traumatized from the whole situation.

Axe and Willow can handle some blood and gore I mean come on with everything they dealt with they're not going to crumble now they're strong motherfuckers. It was just so violent, so brutal and animalistic it triggers them somewhat.

Axe is excited he smells the blood and he's hungry he wants some, he might follow Bonewalker and might even fight him if he doesn't get some. Let's hope Willow can calm down quick enough to stop him.

Willow is sick and on the verge of a full blown panic attack the weight of his "sins" settling on him making him feel small and awful. He's freaking out someone help him please.

[strangemaleswaps]

Strange Shower Swap

After eating a good breakfast, I began my leg stretches. They always say it's the most important thing to do before you go on your daily run, and I agree; pulling a muscle hurts like hell. I made sure each and every muscle was loosened up enough, then took one good look at myself in the mirror before getting my shoes on. Man, I really do look good. 

My route goes around the neighborhood, and I usually see somebody I know, so it's important to look good while I exercise. I used to wear a shirt back when I had no visible muscle, but now that I do, I want the whole world to see my sexy abs. 

I walked outside, put my earbuds in, and started my run. My ultimate goal is to get to a 5 minute mile time. It seems so close yet so far, but I'm a go-getter and I'm not giving up until I achieve it. I ran past a few people - a couple of my neighbors, a few kids playing in the streets, but most importantly, my crush Ben, who was also running. He's so hot! He has the cutest little smile that can easily turn into the sexiest smirk. Even though I look the part, inside I'm really just a shy guy. He caught up behind me, until we were running side by side.

"Hey Cameron, looking good!" He said to me between breaths.

"H-hey Ben. Same to you. Nice run huh?"

"Yeah man, you got a goal?"

"Oh uh 5 minute mile time is nice."

"5 minutes?! That's pretty steep!" You got this though. Don't give up!"

"Thanks!"

"Hey so you wanna hang out later?" All of a sudden I couldn't breathe. I started coughing and had to stop. Ben immediately stopped as well.

"Hey, hey! Are you ok?"

"Y-yeah, just a bug flew into my mouth I guess, haha."

"Haha, you're pretty funny."

"And uh-yeah, we can hang. You can stop by my house later if you want."

"Cool! See you then!" We started running again but parted ways shortly as my route curved to the right, while he went to the left. I can't believe that happened! Is this a date?! I'm so excited, but nervous…

I arrived at my house, full of sweat, and immediately headed upstairs to the bathroom next to my room, only to find the shower was already occupied. I walked in, annoyed and confused as to why my dad was using it. I could see the outline of his gross obese body through the curtain.

"Dad?"

His head peeked out from the side. 

"Hey Cam, what’s up?"

"Why the hell are you in my shower?" 

"Hot water broke in the one downstairs or something."

"Doesn't give you permission to use my shower."

"Boy, you're lucky enough that I'm letting you stay here for the summer between college semesters. Lots of parents don't let their kids back in. My house, my rules."

"Whatever." I don't hate my dad, but he gets on my nerves a lot. Especially when he eats a load of food in front of me. Sometimes I swear he does it on purpose because he's trying to rub it in that I can't eat that much in order to maintain my body. I especially hate when he seems cool one moment, but then changes his tone, acting like a regular parent.

I had to wash up after a long run like that so I decided to head to his shower instead. A cold shower does feel nice after a run…for about 30 seconds. But soon enough I'm gonna need the steamy feel of warm water on my back. The shower downstairs wasn't as good as mine was, it was a little outdated and smelled funny. I'm not surprised the hot water broke in it.

I took my clothes off, turned the handle and walked in. He wasn't kidding, this is freezing! I washed up all that I needed when I noticed the shower water was changing colors. It started off as red and went to orange. Not only is the water cold but it's contaminated! I reached for the handle and noticed it changed colors again, yellow then green. What the hell is in the water now? It then changed to blue, then indigo and finally purple. Finally, all the colors of the rainbow poured out at the same time. What the fuck is going on with this shower?

Suddenly the hot water came back. I was glad, but I'm sure I'll have to take another shower after, so I can get all those weird colored chemicals off me. For now I was just going to enjoy the hot water. I closed my eyes for a minute.

When I opened my eyes I noticed that I wasn't even in the bad shower anymore. I was in my own shower! What the hell happened? Did I teleport or something? 

"Hey, what's going on?" I was startled by my own voice. It sounded much deeper and louder than normal. I reached for the handle and noticed my hand and arm looked bigger and darker. I looked down at myself and shouted.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" I'm huge! I'm fucking obese! I have man tits! What happened? I quickly turned the shower off and examined my body. I put my hand on my tits, lifted them up, and watched them sag into the mound of fat that was my chest. Fuck, what is happening to me?! I opened the shower curtain, and carefully put my huge legs over the bathtub wall one at a time. I knew I was naked but thankfully couldn't see my dick, whatever it looked like. The mirror was fogged up so I went to my bedroom for a mirror…wait, I'm still naked. I took the towel hanging on the wall and had to lift up my flabby belly as I wrapped it around my waist. It wasn't even big enough to wrap completely, but the weight of my rolls kept it from falling down.

I walked into the bedroom, approached the mirror and nearly had a heart attack. Staring right at me was my dad, only he was copying everything I was doing. This can't possibly be real! I’ve turned into my dad! I walked up closer making ridiculous expressions with his face, feeling sick to my stomach. I have no hair either! I rubbed my bald head, sliding my hand up from my forehead to the back of my neck. I stroked my beard, then ran my fingers through my entire face. This is real all right. I took a step backwards, eyeing my massive frame and did a little dance, shaking back and forth, the saggy flesh going everywhere. I look awful! How did this happen? Whatever weird water came out of that shower downstairs somehow swapped the bodies of me and my dad! But wait, if I'm in his body then he must be…

Suddenly the door opened and there stood me. My body, I mean. It was weird looking at myself, moving of its own accord, not following what I'm doing. He was naked, wrapped up in a towel.

"Cam, what the hell is going on?" He spoke with my voice, which caught me off guard. Do I really sound like that?

"You tell me, dad!" Once again his deep voice came out of my mouth. "The one time you force me to use your own shower, we end up swapping bodies!"

"I don't know what the hell happened either! But it's pretty nice! Don't think I've ever been this fit in my life! I feel so nimble!" He looked down at his chest and rubbed it. "And are these abs? Wow! I have actual abs!"

"Hey stop touching me! Remember I'm trapped in YOUR gross body!" With that he started laughing.

"Oh, Cam! That's…hey I'm sorry. But it's kinda funny! Just you…you run everyday! The irony!" I wanted to punch him so bad, but since he was in my body, I'd rather not injure…myself.

"Well if we're gonna be stuck like this, you're gonna have to do all the hard work running then. Or you'll end up fat once again!"

"Aw shit. Well, I'm young at least." Oh god, I was so focused on the weight gain that I didn't consider how much older I was now. I just lost about 25 years of my life! And even if I started running again, it'll take years to even get close to what my body was before…and I'll be full of saggy loose skin! I’m not about to let my dad tease me nonstop for this so I changed the subject.

"Well, if we're gonna be stuck like this, we might as well get dressed." 

"Right on. I left my clothes in the bathroom. And you have some clothes in the closet somewhere?"

"Yeah."

I walked back into the now clear bathroom, and found my dad's clothes laying on the countertop. I slipped the towel off, lifting up my belly once again, and put on a giant pair of boxers. In my old body, these would've been like a blanket on me! It was a weird feeling, having a part of my skin go over my underwear like that. My gut was nearly touching my knees! I pulled on a faded green polo shirt, realizing how hard it is to put on a shirt when your chest isn’t flat. I pulled it over my man tits, and all the way down to my hanging belly. I then put on a pair of blue jeans and belt, initially tucking my fat in underneath them. I realized how awkward that looked so I settled for pulling my belly over it. It'll be obvious that I'm fat no matter what, but at least I won't look so round. I walked into my room just as my dad, wearing one of my tight black tank tops and basketball shorts, began walking out.

"Wait where are you going?"

"To the grocery store! I was going to go anyway before all of this, and well…" For the first time since the swap, his posture changed and he looked upset.

"Yeah?"

"I mean I'm so fit, and young again! I just want to go out in public and kinda show myself off you know?"

"I get it. Just…fine. As long as you don't hit on anyone or do anything embarrassing. I have a rep you know!”

"Yeah of course! Nothing weird! It's cool! I'll give you some uhh privacy now." I rolled my eyes and he noticed. "Hey, you'll get used to it! It's…..just stay out of trouble!" With that he closed the door. I could hear him walking, no, running, down the stairs, picking up his keys and stepping out the front door.

Well shit. What am I supposed to do now? I walked over to sit on my bed, the weight of my dad's belly on my thighs. How does he live like this? I feel so immobile. I moved over to lie down on the bed, my whole body jiggling as I tried to get myself comfortable. My bed is so small! I started feeling drowsy, maybe because of the mental exhaustion of everything that just happened, but probably because my dad's a lazy guy in general.

I woke up a few hours later to the sound of the doorbell. Fuck, I'm still my dad. I tried to get up as I always do but my gut was weighing me down so I kinda just rolled over and got up that way. My dad has keys, why would he need to…oh god. NO. NO!!! It's gotta be Ben! We were gonna have our date! Well not a date, but hangout. He can't see me like this! But I can’t just leave him wondering what happened! I started running to the front door, my belly and tits moving chaotically as I tried not to trip. By the time I reached the door, I was out of breath. This feels so pathetic; I was doing so good with my health! I opened the door to find Ben smiling.

"Oh hey Mr. Parker! What's up?" He really thinks I'm my dad!

"Oh uh hi Ben! I uh heard you were coming for a date?" Shit! Not only do I suck at trying to imitate my dad, but I HAD to call it a date?!

"A date, well, I mean it could be…but hey well is Cameron here?" Did he just blush?

"Cameron? Oh yeah he's uh upstairs." I am an absolutely terrible liar.

"Oh, can I see him?"

"No."

"No?"

"I mean, he's not here. Well he is but…"

"Mr. Parker, are you ok?"

"I uh…Ben…look. I-I don't know how to say this but. I AM Cameron."

"What?"

"Something happened a few hours ago after my run and I switched bodies with my dad."

"Oh, you're fucking with me!"

"No really! Here, during our run today when you approached me, I started coughing and said I swallowed a fly, but actually I was just nervous around you."

"So that's what happened? Cameron, is that really you?"

"Yeah it's me. I look like my gross obese dad. I'm trapped like this for who knows how long. I don't know how to get out!”

"Interesting…" He seemed even more flustered than he was before.

"Are...you good?"

"Ok ok. You confessed. Now I'll confess. I uh- think you're fucking hot."

"R-really? I mean, sorry to let you down but my dad has the hot bod right now."

"No I mean, I like you, well your personality and all; I think you're really cute. But your body…your new body, just. Yes!"

"No fuckin way! You're turned on by my dad's body?"

"Yeah…" Suddenly a really naughty idea popped into my head.

"Well, it's still me in here even if the body isn't mine."

"I'm listening…"

"Why don't we head up to my room to see what happens?"

"Please….yes…"

We walked up to my room, and within seconds of closing the door, clothes were already flying off.

"You have NO idea how much of a big fantasy this is for me. Your mind, and coolness, but your dad's porky body."

We hopped onto my bed, and cuddled a bit, him massaging my tits and rubbing my nipples. The sensation went straight to my dick. Ben nuzzled his head in my belly and squeezed every inch of it. This is incredible. As I lay there seeing his face sink into my fat, he lifted up my belly and started sucking my dick. I still couldn't see it, or knew how big it actually was, but I was getting hard quickly. He was no doubt an expert at oral. With each motion of his mouth, I was getting closer and closer to cumming, but I knew I had to hang on in order to fully enjoy the moment. This wasn't how I ever expected to fuck Ben, but I didn’t care. Being a fat guy fucking a tiny twink is amazing. As he stopped sucking my dick, I could see a sparkle in his eye.

"Hey, lay on me."

"Huh?"

"Yeah lay on me. Smother me in your flab rolls."

I was a little hesitant but Ben positioned himself on his back and slowly, I let myself sink into him. I could barely feel him underneath it all, but his dick was sticking straight up, touching mine. He grabbed my face and we started making out. With each kiss he dug his tongue further and further into my mouth until he was practically penetrating me. He rubbed my bald head as he continued. I began humping his chest with my dick, which prompted another sparkle in his eye. He turned around and got on all fours.

"You’re welcome inside…"

I always suspected he was a bottom! It was a lot harder to find the hole with my gut in the way, but luckily he was extremely loose. Sticking my dick in his asshole, I slowly moved him onto his chest, flattening him once again, but this time my dick inside. I started grinding, Ben moaning with each motion. As I went even faster he moaned even louder. At this point I was sweating like a pig, which only seemed to turn him on even more. I grinded further. Harder and harder, I was smothering him under a huge amount of weight. I can't imagine how that could be comfortable being crushed like that but he didn't seem to mind. I reached my giant hands under his chest, gathering all my strength, and flipped us both upside down like pancakes. With Ben now on his back, sinking into my fat, I started grinding harder until he finally came at the same time I did, exploding everywhere as I filled his hole with my fluids. He lied on my belly, both of us out of breath.

You know, I could get used to this. Ben's into big guys, and I'd love to fulfill his fantasy again. I don't think my dad would mind having my body a little while longer as long as I can have his...

[mchlgayser]

MY MAN! ft rindou haitani ( ✮ )

synopsis: he just loves it when you take full control of the situation.

warning: languages

nana's note: HEYYY!!! How're you guys doing? It's been months and I missed you all so much! I've been busy with studies and exams these couple of months I could not find any time to write :(( As a special, sorry gift, I'm writing this for you guys. tell me if there's anything I should explicitly mention if I happen to forget any and happy reading mwahh!

The room packs of men and women, sweats drenching and drunk with heavy alcoholic drinks. The spacious room is dimmed-light but illuminated with red, purple, and blue hues.

You make your way inside the hall strutting to the bar and take a seat as you order yourself a drink. You were enjoying yourself, sipping the hard drink as you look around for familiar faces.

You could make out familiar faces of a certain lizard-looking guy and the pink-haired. Sanzu smirks smugly at you as he skips to you enthusiastically.

"'Fuck is goin' on with you?" Your face confronts in disgust at the stinging smells of alcohol on him "You smell so bad asshole, get away from me." He laughs at your insult, openly taking a seat beside "Where ya' man at?" You roll your eyes at him "You guys are the one with him the whole day, why are you asking me?"

Kokonoi abruptly interrupts "He's with Ran. Mikey ordered them to handle a meeting somewhere. Be back in a while." You absentmindedly hum at the information.

After some time, the two left somewhere, one going to handle the club's money and the other to mess around with the rest of the lingering prostitutes. A woman seemingly in her mid twenty walks toward you, chest and head standing contemptuously. Her dead curly blonde wig sways from behind as she takes a seat beside you. She ordered herself a drink and shamelessly told the bartender to put it under your bill.

"Know your place, the fuck you think you are doin'?" Her fake lashes battle on you "Whoops, sorry. Anyway, your name is Y/n, right? You are RinRin's girlfriend, yes?" Your left eye subtly twitches in annoyance at the used nickname.

"What is it to you?" She giggles, tucking a strand of her to the back of her ear "Nothing just... I didn't expect you. I mean for a guy like him to settle down for a woman like you? It doesn't make sense at all. Unlike me, a woman of a high fashion sense and ladylike. I could see why he came crawling to me every night. Oh whoops, slipped out." Your face raging with fire and a comical mark appears on the side of your temple.

"What a low-life bitch. Self-proclaiming my boyfriend to be crawling to you? Do you realize how pathetic you sounded? Rindou would never settle down for a woman that sells their body for money like you. You can drag your plastic ass outta my face, hoe." You give her one last glance before you stand up and left the scene.

You were walking to a vacant place when all of a sudden, you were pulled to a nearby secluded place near the restroom. You almost twist the doer's hand but stopped at the familiar tattoo design.

Rindou stood before you, hair chiseled, collared tee undone almost all the way you could see his bare chest and stench in dried blood. But that's not what concerns you, his smug smirk does. "The fuck happened to you? You got into a fight during the meeting or sum'?" He shakes his head, eyes still staring down at you "Me and Ran got ambushed by some low-level organization. Nothing we couldn't handle but what's more is how you shut that woman just a few minutes ago."

You scoff, hand folded in a sassing manner "I still hadn't asked you whether what she said is true or not, right? I can't just blandly dismiss her. Don't you feel the need, to be honest and tell me whether what she said is true or not, RinRin?" He groans at you, eyes moving from the woman from earlier than you "You are seriously considering believing her, come on-" His sentence gets cut off when you punch him in the gut making him grunt in pain.

"Ouch, fine, fine." He smirks again, leaning closer to you "Of course not, do you think I would consider her? Be honest, I'd do better-"

You glare at him, eyes as if challenging him to further speak. Rindou mentally drench in sweats as he coughs "Fine, sorry." Unlike his words, the smirk didn't flatter but instead grew intense.

"I just love it when you are like this." He chuckles when he notices you roll your eyes out of annoyance. "We better leave... Where's Ran?" He look around, shrugging.

"Making babies, maybe?" You snort, giving your boyfriend a short hug and a small laugh before you drag him out of the club. Rindou, however, turns back once in a while to look at a woman and before you two could disappear from her sight, Rindou gives her his majestic middle finger.