#and all the jagged nonsense

[rainbow-arrow]

god i can't wait for luka's first on screen kiss to be with adrien in season six

[notbecauseofvictories]

inexplicably sad about the loathly lady. I just can't imagine being brave enough to ask anyone whether they would prefer you be attractive in the sight of their friends, or attractive when they fuck you. that those are the only two options. I can't stop thinking about how there are many other answers to that question, and almost all of them are wrong.

[a9saga]

if they keep red and backdoor jag for no good reason after saving him last week I'm gonna snuff it

[xetlynn]

arcane imagines- caitlyn/violet

three's a crowd… isn’t it?

[arcane] [main page]

🔞⚠️CONTENT WARNING⚠️🔞: SMUT SMUT SMUT

Prompt: vi and Caitlyn loveee to tease you they’ve done it since you guys became friends. But now it’s really starting to bother you.

Contains: oral, multiple orgasms, strap, vibrators… etc…

“Wouldn’t she be so cute sandwiched between us?” Caitlyn teases, leaning into her girlfriend who was smirking at your flustered expression. You were currently at the mall with them, standing in the back of a Victoria’s Secret. Your eyes were wide at her words. 

They constantly joked about you being their third and recently it was really starting to get to you. “Cait, we’re in public.” You whine, trying to shut them up. Violet slings an arm over your shoulder. “You know we’re only messin’ sweetheart.” She coos and you shoves her off of you. “That’s the point.” You argue. 

You grumble, moving away from the couple that find amusement in your social anxiety. The two were your best friends, you three have done practically everything together. It was a joke with all of you guys to flirt. Then it turned into them teasing and messing with you. You can barely snap back at them. Always stunned by their words. 

It’s also because you are genuinely starting to want what they’re talking about. It was bothering you and you didn’t know how to tell them. This hangout is only proving your infatuation. 

Leaving Victoria’s Secret with a set that the couple convinced you to get so you could match with them. All three of you are carrying a little paper bag. “Oh, Spencers! Let’s go in there.” Violet points to the store that’s across the building on the little map. You stare at the screen before growing tense at the thought of going into the back of that store. You press your lips together, brewing a lie in your mind. 

You didn’t even want to know the things they were going to tease you with in there. “ Um, I-I’m starting to not feel good, guys.” You hold your stomach, they glance over to you. Your face was flushed. They look at one another, worried. “Alright, let’s walk you to your car.” Caitlyn motions towards the exit doors and you put your hands up. “It’s okay! I can go by myself. I don’t want to ruin your time here.” You frown, taking a step back on your own. Violet’s forehead creases with confusement. 

“[Name], you don’t feel good, why would we let you walk by yourself?” She questions you, taking the bag that was on your wrist. Holding it herself now. “Plus, this isn’t ruining our time. We can always walk back, love.” Cait adds. You genuinely just wanted to get away from them before you blurted out a nonsense sentence about your idiotic feelings for them. You also knew arguing with them was futile. 

You let out a jagged breath and let them take you to your car. You keep a hand placed on your stomach, having to keep up the lie until they weren’t around anymore. Violet snaked a hand on the small of your back, as Caitlyn held your free hand on the other side. Your muscles were tense, you didn’t really have to lie about the fact that you feel like you’re going to throw up. 

Vi sneakily pulls your keys out of your pocket without you noticing, unlocking your car and opening the driver’s side for you. You gawk at her, squinting your eyes. “Hey!” You snatch your keys from her pointer finger as she snickers at your reaction. Caitlyn shaking her head. “Drive safe, please text us when you get home.” She plants a kiss on your cheek. You quietly nod your head. Violet throws your bag in your car before giving you a small hug. 

“Yeah, please.” She adds. “Okay, will do. I’m probably going to knock out right when I get there anyways.” You inform them, plopping down on the seat, legs still stick out of the vehicle. “Good, I love you. Again be safe!” Caitlyn wiggles her fingers. “I love you too, you as well, Vi.” You say before she can complain. Violet grins, pulling into her girlfriend's side. Watching you shut the car door, and drive off. 

“We should get her some tums and food after a little more shopping.” The pink-haired girl looks up to her lover who has pursed out lips. “Definitely. Let’s go get that toy she was eyeing last time we were here too.” Cait winks, causing Vi to let out a loud laugh. “She’d have an aneurism.” 

You set your keys down on your kitchen counter, alongside the lingerie set as you head to your bedroom. You felt like a dumbass for how embarrassed you get at their words that truly didn’t have any meaning behind them other than the fact that they’re jokes. Just jokes. 

You flop down on your mattress, staring at your ceiling with a bored expression. Repeating all of their words in your head. Imagining them actually happening. Being sandwiched between your best friends. Taking turns kissing one another. Vi’s hands moving lower than just your back. Cait’s kisses she places on your cheek, traveling to your jaw. 

Your thighs squeeze together at the thought. You shoot up. You can’t think about them so… disturbingly. Seeming like a perv. Which if we’re being honest you kind of were one. You needed to distract yourself. Stop thinking about them. You go to your phone, also remembering to text them that you got home safely before swiping away from their group chat and going to the little red app with the white flame right in the middle of it. 

There’s this girl you’ve been chatting with, only sex in mind. That’s all it is. She offered it and you hesitated, not knowing if you should even after all the dirty talk the two of you have done but at this moment it’s all you could think about. You needed it. 

The exact moment the thirsty little idea is sent to this stranger online a bubble with three floating dots shows up immediately. Your heart races but the wetness in between your thighs is thinking for you. Your brain is fogged over with concupiscence. And she would be here in twenty minutes. 

You place your phone down, rushing to your room to change. You dig through your underwear drawer, not knowing what to wear. Your head goes up as an imaginary light bulb goes off. The lingerie. You scurry into your kitchen, plucking the little bag off of the counter. 

You lived alone so you threw your clothes off right there in the dining area. Quickly changing into the pink and blue lace set that was covered in tiny little bows. You adjust it, bending down to grab your clothes and throwing them in your bathroom. As you do so you check yourself out in the mirror. Vi and Caitlyn honestly possess superior taste in clothing. 

With a small smile you grab your satin bathrobe, throwing it over the beautiful set. Your nerves were at its peak as you waited for this girl to show up. Only talking for three weeks, using her for whenever you were horny. 

A knock at the door catches you off guard as you thought she still had five more minutes until she got to your home. You open the door without thinking, your jaw slacks open to the sight of your two best friends holding a bag of chinese food and something else unknown in another bag. You held your robe shut. “Looks like you were expecting someone?” Caitlyn tilts her head to the side as Violet pushes in. “Uh,” you glance over her head to see a sleek black charger speeding out of your driveway. The same black car that the girl you’ve been speaking to has in her photos. 

Your face drops, letting the blue-haired girl come in. 

“If you had a hook-up you could’ve told us, sweetheart. Not lie about being sick.” Violet laughs, inviting herself on your couch, turning on the tv. You shut the front door, leaning your head on it in embarrassment. “Gonna eat with us?” Caitlyn asks, looking over to your hunched figure.

“What are you guys doing?” You question in a quiet tone, almost irritated. God knows what they said to the girl. “Hm? We’re eating the food we had bought for our friend we were told was sick. A friend that said she didn’t feel good enough to stay at the mall with us.” Vi opens the white styrofoam box, showing your favorite. 

You stared at them, blinking slowly. “Why’d you lie, darling? We would’ve understood. You have needs. I mean we could’ve arranged something to meet those needs.” Caitlyn leans back on the cushion, crossing her leg over the other. “That.” You point to her. 

“That is why I left. Why I lied- actually I didn’t even really lie! I didn’t leave to hook up with her!” You exclaimed angrily, pacing back and forth. “I left because of those stupid… irritating comments you two make that I can never tell if they’re real or just making fun of me!” You breathe out, your face heating up as you explode. 

“Do you guys know how belittling they are? Especially because they actually turn me on? I’m left to wonder if my best friends actually want to fuck me and it makes me feel like I’m insane!” You speak with your hands flailing in the air, now standing in front of your coffee table, pointing between the two of them. Not even seeing your robe fly open. Exposing yourself to them. 

Their eyes wander down your figure, back to your face that was seething with anger. “Didn’t know we left you hot like that, sweetheart.” Violet says with a smirk ghosting her lips as she leans forward, listening to your rant. Caitlyn hummed in agreement, biting her bottom lip. “Oh please, I’m sure you two do it on purpose. To fuck with me.” You grunt, rolling your eyes. “And if we did? What does that say about us?” Caitlyn asks. 

“Do you want to fuck me?” You cross your arms, ignoring her questions. “What do you think?” You throw your head back, groaning in frustration. “Just answer me!” You cry out. 

“Darling we want more than just to fuck you.” Caitlyn chuckles, standing up and walking towards you. You gape up to her. You weren’t expecting such a… output answer. Her hands grab onto the top of your robe, feeling the fabric between her fingers. Violet watches the scene before her. Rubbing her lips together. “Wha-”

“Shh,” She places a finger on your lips. “You had your turn to speak, now it’s ours.” She tells you, looking over to her girlfriend who takes that as her cue to stand up. Coming up behind you. Her hands massaging your shoulders. “[Name], those comments. Were hints. Hints that clearly weren’t getting through your thick skull.” Vi taps your head and you whimper out. “We’ve thought about it for a while. How we both long for you.” Caitlyn forces you to look back to her, grabbing your jaw. “So, you could say yes. We do want to fuck you. But we want more than that.” She whispers into your ear, her grip never loosening against your skin. 

“What do you say, love? Do you want that too?” She asks, her lips tickling over your neck. Your thighs pushing together, as your core begged- no screamed for some sort of friction. “Ah- yes.” You squeak, feeling Violet’s hands on your hips, squeezing then roaming to other places. 

“Yes what, sweetheart?” Violet chaffs, her pupils dilated as she admired both women up against each other. “I want it too.” You pout, glancing back to her with the hand still squishing your cheeks. “Kiss her, Vi.” Caitlyn orders in a simple manner. “Don’t have to tell me twice.” She murmurs before roughly locking her lips with your own. 

Straining your neck as you kiss the girl behind you, leaning your head back to do so. Caitlyn takes her sweater off as the two of you are occupied with one another. Undressing herself to her underwear. 

Violet peeks over to her girlfriend and smirks into your mouth, unlocking only to turn you around to face her now. “Wearing our matching set to fuck someone else?” Vi cocks her head to the side and you look down, biting your lip. “Yeah… sorry.” You huff, mentally cursing at yourself for that one. “Eh, you’re ours now so who cares.” Violet’s hand goes to the nap of your neck, pushing you into another kiss. 

You feel another pair of hands grasp onto your hips, pulling your behind into Caitlyn’s groin. You gasp into Vi, melting in the other girl's touch. “Want us to fuck you in front of the window, pretty one? Or take it to the bedroom… get more comfortable?” Caitlyn musters out, feeling you against her. Wanting- needing more of you. 

Vi withdraws so that you can answer the important question. “Bedroom.” You exhale, clinging onto Violet to catch your breath. “I have a little surprise for you when we get there~” Caitlyn sings, letting you go. Your eyebrows knit together, giving her a curious look. “You’ll see.” She waves. 

You lead the way to your bedroom, Caitlyn grabbing the plastic bag you saw from before when they first got her. Violet follows right behind you. Grabbing at you numerous times. “You’re the only one dressed.” You point it out to her. “Wanna undress me then?” She plants a chaste kiss on your lips, pushing you down on your bed as she does so.

You giggle, nodding your head and getting on your knees. Caitlyn walks into the bedroom to you taking Violet’s shirt clean off. 

“Oh, I could get used to coming home to this…” She says, thinking aloud. The two of you turn to her with smiles adorning your lips. “Are you guys serious? Like wanting me to be a part of your relationship?” You nervously ask, flickering between the two of them. “Sweetheart, how much more obvious can we make it?” Violet sighs out, peeling your robe off of your shoulders. 

“Seriously, want us to make a sign to ask you?” Caitlyn climbs into the bed beside you. “You could just… ask me. Like normal people would.” You say in a ‘duh’ like tone. 

“I think our way is a little more fun, darling.” Caitlyn nips at your shoulder getting behind you like she was while in the living room. “Helping” you take Vi’s clothes off. Really she was only making it more difficult. Her digits dancing down your front. Violet’s words of encouragement boring into your ears. “Almost there, just gotta get that belt off, princess.” She pets your face. 

“Doing so good, you almost got it.” Praising you for finally getting the belt unclasped. Caitlyn grinding against your ass as her fingers played with your lacey panties. Her mouth attacks your skin. “I- hah, Vi.” You puff out, leaning back against Cait as you try to pull the belt out of the pant loops. “M right here, sweetheart.” She reminds you. 

“I- can’t get t’.” You jut out your bottom lip. “Yes you can, try a little harder.” She bucks her hips forward watching you tug and tug. Caitlyn peers at you struggling with one eye open. 

Deciding to make it even more strenuous for you, sneaking through your panties. Her finger tip dipping in between your soaked folds. You jerk forward from the sudden contact. “Caitlyn…” You whine, your hand going to grab at her wrist but Vi smacks it away. “You haven’t gotten me undressed, hun.” She prompts. You look up at her with pleading eyes as her girlfriend is currently exploring your delicate part. 

She doubles down, giving you a stern guise. Your face contorts, your head going down as you bite down a moan. Roughly tugging the belt from her pants, eventually getting it. Violet cheers for you, Caitlyn even mumbling a small congratulations without stopping her own movements on you. 

You eagerly pull the girl's pants down, showcasing her boyshorts that were tight and left little to no imagination. “I want in on the fun now.” She pouts, nudging Caitlyn’s head away from you. She glares instantaneously up at the pink-haired woman. “Bite me.” Caitlyn spits out, her fingers coming out from your underwear, grabbing at your neck. 

Your fluids trailing over your flesh. “C’mon, cupcake, move it.” Violet fusses like a child. 

“Ugh, so impatient.” Caitlyn throws her head back in annoyance, moving back so you can get further into the bed to allow Vi to join. 

“So mean, for no reason.” Violet complains. “What a big baby.” Cait rolls her eyes, folding her arms. You chuckle at the both of them, sitting back against your pillows. “You love me.” Violet pulls her into a passionate kiss. You gawk at the two of them as they make out right in front of you. 

Your own hand traveling down to your underwear, touching yourself through the layer of lace before moving the fabric over. Legs spread as you play with your bud, juices splashing that earn attention from the girls. You don’t even stop, letting out little pants as your finger circles the nerve. 

“Touching yourself so shamelessly to us?” Caitlyn crawls over to you, sitting herself between your legs. Violet stays put but observes nonetheless. 

“Mhm, turn me on like no other.” You give her a lopsided grin, your chest heaving from the pleasure you give yourself. “I’m jealous of your own fingers.” She admits, her eyes not leaving the beautiful view gifted upon her. “Replace them, then.” You boldly tell her, Catilyn was quick to respond to that. Without warning she attaches to your drenched pussy. 

Her tongue swirls around your folds, operating toward your clit. You grip onto your sheets, your eyes meeting with Vi who’s bewildered at the two of you. 

“C’mere…” eliciting a moan from your mouth, reaching forward to the girl. She slowly listens, going over to you. You go to lift your torso to kiss her but Caitlyn shoves you back down onto the pillows. Speaking something into your cunt, the vibrations sending shock waves through you. 

“Sh-shit!” You mewl, your stomach tightening and you grab onto Vi’s arm. “K-kiss me please!” You beg, not even able to open your eyes as Caitlyn’s lips latch onto your folds, having a field day with your pretty cunt. Violet doesn’t even let a second pass as she gives you what you want. Your noises are now muffled by her. 

Caitlyn now recedes, spitting onto your hole that begins to clench down on nothing. She snickers, her thumb swiping down your slit before teasing that tensed ring of muscle that just sucked her in. “Mm, so nasty~” She mutters, her lips glistening from your liquid. Only to be drowned back in it once she reattaches herself. Using her middle and ring fingers to leisurely plunge themselves inside of your gummy walls. 

You inhale sharply, your thighs threatening to compress against the blue-haired woman who works on your cunt skillfully. Violet nips at your bottom lip, sucking on it. Your eyes open, looking at her close-eyed face that’s right up against your own. Breathing raggedly through her nose as she focuses on your mouth. Her eyebrows furrowing then unforrowing repetitively. 

“Tastes ‘s sweet.” Caitlyn maunders in joy, biting at your nub, her fingers thrusting in and out of you. You have to push Vi away for a moment, feeling yourself approaching combustion. “I- hah- hah, Vvv…” You can’t even get your words out, so dumbified by the girl’s actions against you. “I think she’s about to cum, cupcake.” Violet chuckles, she caresses Caitlyn’s hair, moving it out of her face, out of the way so she can get the job done even quicker. 

Your nails dig into Vi’s forearm, definitely leaving little crescent indents. “F-fuck!” You cry out, rolling your pelvis up and down against Caitlyn’s unrelenting muzzle. 

Her fingers curl and meet that mushy spot, letting your movements take control to get you to your high. “Taking it so perfectly, princess.” Violet rubs your knee, still allowing you to grip onto her for support. 

The spurts and splashes from your pussy getting louder and louder. Your toes crimping. “C-cummingh~!” You grit your teeth, your chest pushing forwards as your cunt creams all over Caitlyn’s fingers that continuously fuck in and out of you. Her lips sucking on your little bud sending you over the edge. A loud squeal exiting out of you. You lay backwards onto the pillows, whimpering, legs shaking as Caitlyn doesn’t retreat away from you. Only taking her fingers out and lifting them upwards towards Vi. “Try her, she’s too good~” She smiles, kitten licking your sensitive clit. 

Violet sits flat on her ass, taking her girlfriends fingers, putting them on her tongue. 

“Too much, Cait! Too much!” You attempt to push her away but she’s like a boulder, sticking in place as she cleans up the mess you made. That she caused. Ignoring your small pleads. Violet slurps the juices off of Caitlyn’s digits. You watch with a pained expression. Eyes almost rolling to the back of your head. 

“You’re so greedy.” Violet tells Caitlyn who hums in agreement. “You would be too.” She retorts, finally giving your poor pussy a break. You sigh in relief, chest moving up and down rapidly. “Let’s see, is she really as good as you say? The juices on your fingers weren’t enough for me to truly know.” She replaces Caitlyn from being in between your thighs and you start to whine, trying to close your legs to stop what was coming. “Ah, ah, ah… bad girl.” Violet tuts, forcing them back open. Caitlyn scrunches her nose, smiling down at you. 

Violet kisses the flush of your thighs, trailing down to your slick core. You were a mess, grabbing at her hair, attempting to pull her away from you. 

You hear the crinkling of a plastic back and you lift your head to look over the girl currently licking at you. Getting a taste. Caitlyn’s pulling multiple things out of a black bag from spencers and your eyes widened, now alarmed at what they could have gotten. 

Your gaze was hazy from Violet still latched onto you, trying to focus on what Caitlyn was taking out of boxes. Tears welding in your eyes, the pleasure was too much. “Gonna get these cleaned.” At least that’s what you think you hear as Caitlyn leaves the bedroom. The sloppy noises of Violet loudly eating you out like she was a starved woman. 

She practically is as the Chinese food was still uneaten out in the living room. 

“Vi, pl-please! Ive m-me a second!” You yawp, squirming underneath her with ragged breaths. “You’re addictive, sweetheart. I can’t.” She replies, curtly returning to ambushing your tender, now rather fragile drenched pussy. The smell of your arousal filled the room. 

Violet was different from Caitlyn, sloppier, more movement. Slightly aggressive as her head moved against you. Keeping your spread with her fingers. Caitlyn was gentle in the sense of not thrashing around like a crazed-woman. Speaking of who, she walks back into the room with a black harness and right on her crotch is a thick dark blue swirled with hints of pink dildo. Your face dropped in… fear? 

She grins, a tongue peaking through her teeth. She’s rubbing lube over it as she takes small steps to the bed. You then notice another object in her other hand. A beginners bullet vibrator that was decored in purple with white moons and stars littered all over it. It was something you joked about getting months ago while at the mall on your birthday. 

Caitlyn presses the button on the bottom, the sound hitting Violet’s ears. She smirks, pulling away from your cunt. Cait hands her the toy. “Mm, wait! Wait!” You sit up quickly. “Wait!” You stick a hand out, covering yourself. 

The two sit patiently, waiting like you said to. “Wh-what about you two? Don’t you two want to cum?” You try to switch the attention away from you, knowing you were done for unless you stopped it. They glance over at each other. 

“Today isn’t really about us, love.” Caitlyn shrugs her shoulders. “Yeah, just relax and take it like a good sweetheart.” Violet pulls you into a kiss, you moan against her. 

“Unless it’s too much for you…” Cait butts in, ending the kiss. You contemplate for a moment. Your pussy throbbing answers for you. “It’s not too much…” You murmur. “Really because you were just cryin-” 

You smack a hand over Violet’s mouth. “I’m fine. It’s not too much.” You swear, causing the two to laugh at your mechanisms. “If it does, just say the words… Lemon-Lime.” Caitlyn tells you, stroking her faux cock. You nod your head then you feel wetness spread across the palm of your hand, you retreat away from Violet’s mouth in disgust. “Ew, Vi.” You give her a look. “Ew? My tongue was just in your mouth and pussy.” She retaliates, you give her a ‘so’ expression in response. 

“You two are children.” Caitlyn breathes out her nose, standing back up from the bed. “Violet sit behind [Name].” She demands, clipping her bra off. “What?” Violet asks, confused. “Just do it.” Caitlyn snaps. 

“Okay, okay… bossy~” Violet stands up on the mattress and you scoot forward allowing room for the pink-haired girl. She plops down and her legs go on either side of your body. As you observe the other girl in front of you, gawking at her chest. And as you aren’t paying attention, Vi unclasps your own bra. It falls off your arms and you purse your lips. Looking back to her. “You could’ve asked.” You tell her. “Where’s the fun in that?” She queries. 

“Knock it off.” Caitlyn stops yet another argument from the both of you. Your backs are straightening at her words. “Yes, ma’am.” You salute, Violet following suit. She rolls her eyes, finally climbing back onto the bed and in her rightful spot between your legs like beforehand. “These will only get in the way.” She grunts, peeling your underwear off with the help of you lifting your butt up for her. 

“You soaked the bed.” She comments with a smug smile. “Do we turn you on that badly?” She skims over your thighs, petting back and forth. “Mhm.” You nod your head meekly. 

Violet’s empty hand goes to your breasts, taking turns fondling each one. Caitlyn hovers over you, playing with the dark-colored dildo, making sure the lube was perfectly lathered on it. Your eyes nervily watched her do so. Violet subconsciously put the vibrator against your stomach as she held onto the object along with you. 

Caitlyn then clicks something on the bottom of the dildo and you see it begin to start vibrating as well. Your eyes widen. “Nervous, pretty one?” She asks, holding onto your knee and you shake your head. “N-no.” Your voice defies you. Her hand grips the rubber dick, aligning against your achy hole. 

Violet forces her attentiveness towards the scene, mouth open in excitement. The quivering of the object hits you first, the vibrations sloshing against your juices. Caitlyn’s fake cock sheathing inside you all at once. Earning a ripe yelp from you. “Mhm, tell me how it feels, darling.” She tells you, squishing the cheeks of your face as she thrusts slowly in and out of you. “Good, sho good, Cait!” You snivel, leaning back against Violet who holds you. 

“Gonna fuck you so good you can’t think of anything other than this fake cock I’m giving you.” She declares confidently, forcing your legs to spread wider, entering inside you deeper. “Fuuu-ck!” Your head rests over Violet’s shoulder and between her neck. “N-no, look at me.” Caitlyn forces your face back to her way. You groan, drooling over her hand that mushes your lips out. “Look at me fucking you.” She grits, her pelvis pounding against your own. 

Hands roamed all over you from behind, Violet palming your breasts, dropping the vibrator letting it rest on your stomach as she pinches your nipple. Making out with your neck, leaving marks scattered on you. 

Caitlyn sees the little bullet, picking it up and placing it over your delicate bud. “Ohmygod!” You scream, your walls clenching down on her cock. The vibrations fight against each other and you actually begin to cry at the feeling. 

“You see how she fucks that little hole, it’s all hers, huh?” Violet says, pointing down at the rough fuck you’re getting. You nod your head weakly, your tits bouncing at every thrust into you. “I asked a question.” She smacks your breast and you whimper. Caitlyn lets go of your face, grabbing one of your legs and putting it against your chest. 

“Y-yes, I see it! Fuck! R-right there rrriight there!” You huff, grab onto your own lifted leg so that Caitlyn can fully focus on your pussy. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck!!” You sob, looking back to Violet who immediately traps you into a messy kiss. Caitlyn gets harsher to make it harder for you to make out with Vi. 

“Vi, in a moment turn her around. I want her to eat you out.” Caitlyn ruts into you as she speaks. The vibration was also bringing her close to an orgasm as she knows you were getting to one as well. Vi only gives the girl a thumbs up as she was fixed upon you. 

The girl’s tempo accelerates, rubbing the bullet up, down and around on your clit. “I- ffffuuu…” You couldn’t even get the words out as you release, juices squirting, making a mess on Caitlyn’s pelvis. Soaking the fabric of the strap. “Did you just squirt, darling?” Her voice was barely audible to your ears as you rode out your high. Almost biting down on Vi a little too hard. Drawing blood to her bottom lip. You pull back letting out a mix of random babbles. Apologizing. 

Violet’s tongue swipes against the blood, feeling where you bit her. Amused by it. 

“Oh shit-” Caitlyn doubles over, her torso trembling at her own orgasm, grabbing onto your chest as she cums. Filling you deeper so that the dildo hits the right spot against her clit. Vi pouts. “When will that be me?” She says, disappointed. “Sh-shut up.” Caitlyn mutters, glaring up at the girl as she turns off both vibrators. 

Carefully she withdraws from your pussy, making a little pop noise as the tip comes out. So lewd. 

“Alright, on your stomach, little one.” Cait smacks your cunt, a small mewl leaving your mouth. “Okayyy.” You tiredly sigh, getting up to your knees with the help of pushing off of Vi. “How do you think she eats? Messy? Clean? Mix of both?” Violet asks Caitlyn as she takes off her underwear, laying back on the pillows. “Let me know while she does it, yeah?” Cait inquires, gifting your ass with a swift slap. 

You were now right in front of Vi’s cunt that glistened, soaked from being so neglected. Your eyes wander, taking in everything. Mesmerized. Your ass was poked up in the air, chest almost hitting the bed as your back arched beautifully. Your forearms rested underneath Vi’s thighs, touching against her ass. “So pretty down there.” She compliments, pulling the hair out of your eyes as you look up at her for a split second. 

“Ready for me again, darling?” Caitlyn asks, her hands resting on your ass. “Yes,” you wiggle your ass, she sneers. Kneading the flesh before her as the fraudulent member re-enters, inch by inch. 

You then hide your face in Violet’s muff, tongue flattened over her folds. Vigorously you begin to eat out your best friend, slurping up her cunt as Caitlyn pistons in and out of you. 

“Oh shit, cupcake, she’s g-ood with th-that mouth of hers.” Violet stretches out her toes, feeling your lengthy tongue delving and swirling inside of her. “Really? I wouldn’t expect less from such perfection.” Caitlyn grabs her hair, moving it over to her shoulder as she fucks into you at a flawless stride. 

“Ye-ah! Hah! Same!” Vi throws her head back on the large feather pillows. You take pride in her words, going in overtime to munch on her pussy. Caitlyn’s momentum, her thrusts pushing you into Vi heartily. “I’m gonna cum if she keeps this up!” Vi’s hand goes to your hair instantaneously. Keeping your head as still as possible on her cunt. Entrapping you, not even letting you up to breathe. 

The bump of your nose tickling her nub, her liquid coaxing it. With each forceful plunge into you by Caitlyn you let out a loud moan. Sending shivers down Violet’s back at the feeling. Her fingers slowly maneuvering through your hair. Giving it a tug once she feels herself getting closer to the edge. 

“Fuck her like that, f-fuck her hard.” Vi tells Caitlyn, gripping onto your hair simultaneously. “Feels good for you?” Cait teases, ramming into. Repeatedly leaving quick smacks to your ass cheeks. Creating red marks along with little welts. “Mhm, almost there.” She nods her head, having to hold onto your bed frame from behind her head so she doesn’t yank your hair too tremendously. 

Your jaw was onset to lock so your tongue proceeded to a spirited, lively speed. Flicking up and down her clit. Vi’s legs begin to shudder, indicating that she's going to cum soon. “Fucking hell, sweetheart! Got a quick tongue on you.” And she’s still able to be a jokester. You roll your eyes, your teeth pinching down on the nub before your lips go around it. Sucking while also circulating your tongue. 

“There! There!!!” Violet’s abs flexing as her release hits her like a truck. Her hips fuck into your mouth as you let her ride her face. “Got to cum too?” Caitlyn puffs with a smile, watching her girlfriend violate your face with a fucked-out expression. “Mhmmm~” Vi drops her hips down and you pant, lifting your torso up as you were still getting thrusted into. “You did so good, you eat like a pro.” Vi, sits up to pull you into a kiss. “Thank you.” You sheepishly say, having a hard time keeping your eyes open. “Gonna cum again?” 

“Almost, go hard, please.” You plead, leaning your head down on Vi’s abdomen. 

Your fingers trailing up and down her muscles. 

She admires you, purposely flexing them just for you. You deserve it for the amount of orgasms you’ve given them. About to gift another. “Harder? You sure, love?” Caitlyn double checks, her hands going to your hips to get ready. “Yesh, need it.” You nod your head, your cheek squished against Vi’s stomach. 

“Okay,” Cait then rutting into you at a harsher momentum. Pap, pap, paps of her skin hitting against your ass echoed in the room. Her hand snakes around you, her fingers dancing against your clit. Rubbing you fastly. Violet holds your hand as you mewl and moan. Your drool and saliva pooling at her stomach. 

Caitlyn sweats as she humps into you, clawing at your skin with one hand. The other still working on your plump, raw clit. “Caitlynnn~” You sing out. “Right here, darling.” She pants. 

“I f-feel iittt.” Your back starts to hunch upwards but Caitlyn pushes it back into an arch. The sound of the dummy cock fucking in out of your ooey pussy only grows louder. Your juices spilling around it. 

“Ha-hereee!” You fuck your ass back onto Caitlyn, meeting her hips. She stops doing the work, letting you fuck yourself on her. Kneading your doughy ass, patting it a few times. “Take it all, love. Take what’s yours.” She coos. 

Your body jerks from the orgasm, as it comes to a stop you lay there restlessly. “Shit.” You whine. 

Caitlyn goes to exit from your hole but you grab onto her wrist, keeping her in place. “Hold on, please.” You look up at her with half-lidded eyes. She smiles, leaning down and kissing your back. “Of course, just tell me when.” She rubs your butt soothingly. “You did really well, love.” She pecks your skin all over. 

Violet pets your hair, agreeing. “I have such two pretty, perfect girlfriends.” She mutters and now you're met with both pairs of eyes laying on you. Your face flushes. “Two?” You lift your head up. “Is that alright?” Vi cocks her head to the side, the hands on your ass stop their movements. “I- Yeah, of course.” You nod your head with a laugh. 

Your pussy clenching down on the faux dick, reminding you that it was still in there. You then make a face. “Okay, slowly- I mean SLOWLY get out of me.” You say to Caitlyn, who listens. 

Once it’s fully unsheathed you make a disgusted expression, feeling your cum drip out of you and down your thighs. “So pretty.” Caitlyn swipes at the liquid with two fingers, bringing it up to her mouth and licking it. Vi perks up. “Lemme try.” She sticks her hand forward and Caitlyn gets more, wiping it onto her girlfriend’s. 

“You guys are so weird.” You scrunch your nose. Closing your eyes, tired. 

[deprivedreality]

𝗜𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝘿𝙔𝙉𝘼𝙈𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏?!

Word Count: 1.2k

Content contains: pro-hero bakugo being a career man. mentions of katsuki having an s/o! I hope these ideas capture his fiery, no-nonsense personality while also showing how much he’s grown into a reliable and inspiring hero.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who when every time someone mispronounces his hero name, he snaps and shouts “It’s DY-NA-MIGHT, not ‘Dynamo’ or whatever crap you just said! Learn how to read, damn it!”

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who has a rigorous training schedule. Yes, cooking breakfast and cuddle time with his s/o is part of that schedule nevertheless. Even as a pro, Bakugo starts his day with a 5:00 a.m. workout. His mornings include explosive quirk drills, which terrify his neighbors, but he refuses to apologize because, “Heroes don’t take days off, morons.” He does try to keep it down a notch when he heard through his neighbors' kid that they were thinking about moving houses.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who insists on being on the frontlines for every mission, no matter the scale. He’s the first to charge in during a disaster and won’t leave until every civilian is accounted for. “If I’m not giving 100%, why the hell am I here?” And you better know that everyone appreciated him for his selfless actions.

Prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who is efficient to a fault. His rescue operations are insanely effective but intimidating. He’ll shout at panicked civilians to “Move your asses, idiot!” but then carry them out of danger with precision and speed. Later, when they thank him, he awkwardly mutters, “Yeah, whatever. That's what I'm here for anyway. Just don’t get stuck again.”

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who has a signature explosion mark. After saving the day, he always leaves behind a controlled, smoky explosion shaped like his logo—an orange starburst with jagged edges. Kids love it and call it his “hero stamp.” He just did it one time because y/n liked the idea of him having something like a bat-signal, it became like a routine for him.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who's surprisingly good with kids. He didn’t expect it either, but kids adore him. When they swarm him for autographs, he grumbles, “You better not smudge this!” but secretly loves the attention. He even kneels down to their level so they can high-five him. It did took him time to warm up to them after some thought, he wanted to be like how All Might was when he was a kid.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who is strict with his sidekicks. Bakugo’s sidekicks are the most well-trained in the industry because he pushes them relentlessly. He shouts, “If you can’t handle this, you’re wasting my damn time!” but always ensures they’re prepared for real missions.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who still has an unspoken rivalry with Deku, and everyone in general, but now it’s about who saves more people. Bakugo keeps a tally and texts deku, “Took down 8 villains today. What’s your number, nerd?”

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who personally oversees every modification to his hero costume, from grenade gauntlets to lightweight boots. If the support team messes up, he’ll fix it himself, muttering, “If you can't do it right, I'll do it myself.” This causes his support team to work twice harder next time.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who has workaholic tendencies. He rarely takes time off, claiming, “Villains don’t go on vacation, so why should I?” His s/o and his entire agency forces him to relax. Needless to say, his s/o alone can convince him. Even then, he’s still scanning news reports for emergencies.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who is an emergency quirk strategist. Bakugo has a knack for coming up with split-second strategies in the middle of chaos. He’ll bark orders to other heroes, and while they’re annoyed at his tone, they follow him because he’s always right. Other heroes learned it the hard way one time when they didn't follow his 'suggestion' and ended up making the situation worse.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who gets tons of fan letters and gets flustered reading them. One of his fellow heroes suggested for him to buy a shredder, but you know damn well he flipped them off. He gets tons of fan mail, but he has no idea how to respond. He also did not know what to do with them until his s/o opted to help him with this problem. Sometimes he’ll scribble a quick “Thanks” with a little explosion doodle and hope it’s enough, his s/o would be the one to arrange and mail them.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who is devoted to his parents. Bakugo visits his parents regularly, bringing them little gifts like flowers for his mom (which she teases him about) and bunch of snacks and clothing pieces for his dad. He even helps fix things around their house during his rare free time. He makes sure his sidekicks and secretary knows when to remind him to call them during breaks.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who has is looked up to by other pros for his emergency evacuation drills. When Bakugo’s agency holds safety drills, his team wins every time. He calls it “real hero training” and will go all-out to make sure everyone’s prepared.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who was invited one time to attend a charity by ochako and it became something he does everytime. While he’s not a fan of public speaking, Bakugo attends charity events because he believes in helping beyond hero work. He’ll reluctantly auction off items like “Bakugo’s autographed gauntlet,” secretly donating extra money because “those kids need it more.”

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who is an incredible loyal team leader. Bakugo might be tough on his team, but he’s fiercely protective of them. He is especially protective of his interns, some of them referring to him as the older brother they never had. If a villain hurts one of his sidekicks, you better know he’ll go all-out to take them down while yelling, “You don’t touch my people!”

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who built his own agency to be one of the best heor agency headquarter there is. His agency is a sleek, well-organized base equipped with cutting-edge tech and a training ground. The office is always clean because he enforces “No slacking off!” rules, even for janitorial staff. In his hq, he made sure that there is one room dedicated for his s/o.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who became an unintentional role model. Despite his rough personality, students and new heroes look up to Bakugo because of his dedication and success. He doesn’t know how to handle compliments and usually responds with, “Stop wasting time and go do your damn job!”

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who mastered using small, precise explosions for rescues—blasting through rubble without causing harm or creating paths for civilians. It’s become his trademark move, and no one does it better.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who's explosive personality makes him a media favorite, but he hates interviews. When forced to participate, he answers in blunt one-liners like, “Villains suck, so don’t do crime.” Although he did receive criticism at the start of hero career because of his brash attitude, but that's all.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who knows how to separate his personal life from his career so well that some fans were surprised when he revealed in an interview that he was already married. He proudly showed off his wedding band, telling his interviewer that he was a happy married man.

ᓚᘏᗢ @deprivedreality 2023 | all rights reserved.

[dexteri0us]

i know i haven't been perfect, but give it some time; 'cause not a single day goes by where you don't cross my mind

pairing: dexter morgan x f!reader

warnings: fluff, injuries (burns and cuts), louis greene, and you know... dexter's dark passenger

summary: requested: "dexter being super protective of you and when he finds out someone hurt you he immediately starts hunting him to kill him"

w/c: 5.5k

a/n: spoiler alert? it made me sad that dexter didn't get to kill louis, so here we go.

Louis is taking me to the hospital. Don’t freak out. Lab mishap.

You pressed send and the text appeared in a blue bubble, under it, there was a Delivered sign that quickly turned into Read.

Which hospital?

Jackson Memorial.

I’m on my way.

You didn’t really like it when people fussed over you. It felt unnecessary and only brought you discomfort most of the time. But this time, you couldn’t deny the relief knowing Dexter would meet you at the hospital.

“Who are you texting?” Came the voice from the driver’s seat.

You cleared your throat and shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “My boyfriend.”

“Dexter?” Louis asked with a feigned curiosity.

You couldn’t stand him anymore; he was such a fake asshole it was physically hurting you. And today was honestly the last straw.

You’d spent the better part of your morning setting up your experiment, testing your final samples. The data was supposed to solidify your findings and allow you to finish your thesis.

Everything was in place, your samples loaded into the centrifuge as you triple-checked everything. Everything. The protocol, the settings on the centrifuge, spinning the rotor with your hand, ensuring that it was balanced and the lid was closed tight.

Louis had been hovering all the fucking time. You had tried to ignore him, but you couldn’t exactly tell him to go fuck himself. The lab at your school was a shared space.

“You really think you’re going to finish today?” He’d mocked you. But that didn’t throw you off. You knew you were, because you were prepared.

But then you stepped away from the centrifuge for just five seconds to retrieve your laptop. When you returned, you put the laptop next to the machine and pressed the start button on the centrifuge, causing it to whir to life, the rotor spinning faster and faster. Then suddenly, a sharp, metallic clunk echoed in the room, followed by a horrific screech. The centrifuge rattled violently and the lid flew open. Glass shards and liquid shot out like shrapnel and you barely had time to shield your face with your arm.

The pain was instant. A jagged piece of glass sliced across your forearm, and a burning sensation spread where the liquid splashed onto your skin.

“Shit!” Louis exclaimed, rushing forward with exaggerated concern. “Are you okay?”

You just clutched your arm, blood seeping between your fingers. The burn on your forearm throbbed, angry red splotches already forming. Your vision suddenly became blurred with tears of pain and frustration combined, but you held them back. You were not going to cry in school.

The commotion drew others into the lab, including your supervisor. And of course, Louis was quick to throw you under the bus. And, okay, you weren't wearing your lab coat, but nobody really was if they did something as simple as loading samples into a centrifuge.

Your supervisor sent you to the nurse, telling Louis to escort you in case you got dizzy. The nurse bandaged your arm and sent you to a hospital for further treatment. Louis chimed in, playing the part of a kind and worried colleague, and driving you there himself.

“Yes; Dexter. He’s on his way, so you can just drop me off and head back to the lab.”

“Nonsense. I can't have anything else happen to you.”

Bullshit. He wouldn’t even blink if the shards had hit your carotid artery and you bled out right there. Who knows, maybe that had been his plan all along. Louis had it out for you and Dexter, his petty vendetta against you couldn't be more transparent.

“Louis, please.” You closed your eyes in exasperation, your eyes still burning from the tears that tried to push their way through. “I know that you messed with the centrifuge. I don’t have proof, so don’t worry. I’m not gonna do anything. But at least have the decency to stop pretending that you’re innocent.”

You saw his jaw flex and his knuckles get white from how he clutched the steering wheel, but he didn’t say anything. Frankly, you were getting uncomfortable being alone with Louis in the car, but luckily, the hospital came into view.

You tried to convince Louis to go, but he wouldn’t budge. He knew you hated his presence, and he reveled in the feeling that he was making you uncomfortable. You also had a hunch he waited for Dexter so he could provoke him too. He was like a lurking predator, leaning against the far wall, as the nurse gave you a sympathetic smile, adjusting the bandage on your arm. The burn cream was cool against your skin, but the sting of the injury sent vibrations through your whole arm.

The door opened, and your muscles finally relaxed. Dexter stepped in, his focused gaze sweeping the room. His eyes landed on you first, taking in the bandage on your arm and the nurse’s careful work. Then, his gaze flicked towards Louis.

Louis straightened up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Dexter, hey! Don’t worry, YN’s alright. I made sure she got here safe.”

Dexter ignored him. If he hadn’t, he might have done something… nobody here needed to see. There was going to be time for that to do it right. Instead, he made his way straight to you.

“Hey,” you said with a tired smile.

His hand reached out to cup your head, his thumb brushing your temple and over the edge of your eyebrow in a soothing manner as his other hand hovered over your injured arm, as if to make sure it was still attached. His brows were furrowed, his shoulders and chest stiff as if he was holding his breath.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Getting burned by an oven hurts more.” You tried to lighten the mood, but humor wasn't exactly his way of coping.

“What’s he still doing here?”

“I think he wants to steal you away from me.”

“YN…”

“I don’t know, Dex. He’s a fucking vulture, you know that. I told him to leave, but he wouldn’t.”

You weren't even joking anymore; it wouldn’t surprise you if Louis had done this to get Dexter’s attention. Or get back at you for having Dexter’s attention. Louis had probably been obsessed with him long before you started coming to the Miami Metro’s forensics lab to work on your thesis. Louis, as a graduate and now a lab tech at your university as well as a senior intern at Miami Metro, was supposed to be your guide, to help you acclimate.

You had known Louis from school, and ever since he’d started working at Miami Metro, his ego had been bursting through the roof, so you hadn’t been so psyched when you’d found out you’d have to share a working space, but hey, what could you do. At least, he was genuinely eager to assist, proudly showcasing his knowledge of the lab’s high-tech equipment and Miami Metro’s most famous cases. But his favorite thing to do was name-dropping Dexter. Louis had never said it in those words, but Dexter was like a god to him.

“He’s a genius. Everyone here knows it. Stick with me, and you might even learn enough to impress him.”

You��d fought the urge to roll your eyes. “I’m here to work on my thesis, Louis. Not to waste my time.”

Louis had always been too loud, too close and most importantly, too self-important for your liking, and you’d thought back then already, that his admiration for Dexter bordered with obsession.

And when you finally met the famous Dexter Morgan, you were surprised how underwhelming it was. You actually expected another loud and arrogant scientist, but he was the exact opposite.

One morning, while you were struggling with the calibration of a piece of equipment, a calm and monotone voice spoke behind you.

“You’re off by a millimeter.”

You jumped out of your skin, closing your eyes to regain composure before turning around and finding Dexter with his hands in his pockets, just standing there. You hadn’t met, but you knew what he looked like.

“Fuck, thanks. Were you trying to give me a heart attack to keep me from using it? Jesus Christ.” You were still shaking off the jumpscare you just received.

“Sorry.”

“You’re good. Dexter, right? The guy who specializes in puddles.”

“Blood spatter analyst,” he corrected with a nod, and for a moment, you were taken aback by the lack of reaction to your joke. You introduced yourself and shook his hand, before he left without another word.

To him, you were just another in a parade of visiting academics, someone he’d forget as soon as your project ended.

Well, apparently, you liked to talk, making it hard for him to ignore you. It's not like you were targeting him specifically, you were just a naturally friendly person.

Vince's attention wasn't exactly hard to earn, especially if you were a woman, but Dexter noticed how you laughed even with Angel. Not that Angel was a touch-me-not, but it was still surprising to see you navigate the station with such ease, like a newcomer staking a claim in unfamiliar territory. You didn't force yourself into conversations; you didn't even have to. You had your own gravity around you, and people were magnetized to it.

“If you need something, Louis is your liaison.” He tried to brush you off one time, gesturing vaguely towards the open lab door.

“Oh, I know,” you replied, undeterred. “But Louis is busy explaining to someone how he’s basically the second coming of Einstein, so I figured I’d ask the real expert.”

But you didn’t wait for him to respond, taking the hint and leaving him alone. For now anyway. It made the corner of Dexter’s mouth twitch, but he caught himself and got back to his work. He thought about it for a moment before deciding that it would be suspicious if he was the only one ignoring you.

Over the next few weeks, you made a habit of dropping by his desk. At first, he found your presence… perplexing. You asked too many questions – some of them genuinely insightful, others just… so absurd. You often hovered just enough to be noticeable, but not enough to be intrusive. And your sense of humor seemed to exist solely to see how far you could push him before he reacted. And to create a bond with his sister.

You and Deb shared that bark, and he didn’t know what to make of it. The sarcasm often rang through the breakroom, and while he wasn’t one to eavesdrop, one time he heard a mention of his name.

“Does your brother ever smile?” you asked Deb, leaning against the counter.

“Well, you know, occasionally.”

“Yeah, what’s the occasion? Winning the lottery? Accidentally putting sugar in his coffee instead of salt?”

His brows furrowed in confusion. Why would I put salt in my coffee? But unlike him, Deb laughed.

“More like when someone's bleeding out somewhere. You don’t even wanna see that, it’s creepy as hell.”

“He’s fascinating actually,” you said when you stopped laughing, taking another sip of your coffee.

Fascinating. Most people called him odd, socially awkward, or at best, smart. His victims called him sick or a freak. But fascinating was new. And unsettling. He didn’t particularly like being noticed, but he found himself not minding your attention. Dexter realized that when he came in on Louis scolding you for talking him.

“He’s not your friend or your assistant, okay?” Louis snapped at you, his voice rising in frustration. “I am. So, stop bothering him and do some actual work.”

Before you could respond, Dexter stepped in, his voice firm. “Woah, Louis. Thanks, but I think I can handle myself.”

“I’m just saying, she’s supposed to focus on her thesis—”

“And she is. I also don’t mind helping her.” He turned to you then. “At least, when she ends up working here, she’ll already know the ropes.”

Dexter wasn’t serious, he didn’t even know if you ever wanted to work in forensics. But to Louis, the words felt like a slap. For months, he’d bent over backward to gain Dexter’s respect, but he’d never earned more than a dismissive glance. And you just waltzed in, cracked a couple of jokes, and suddenly, you were like Dexter's personal pet.

It was clear he didn’t like how Dexter responded to you. You noticed how his behavior changed, becoming petty even at your university lab. It was like he was waiting for you to make a mistake while his jokes grew meaner, more passive-aggressive

However, Louis was still essentially a random guy. He wasn't your superior, so you didn’t let him scare you off. If he wanted to report you to your school, you had Vince's backing, and now Dexter's too, you hoped. You believed you hadn't done anything wrong, you still got your work done, so there was no reason to feel guilty.

That meant that you never limited yout contact with Dexter, who also grew more responsive over the time. You figured out that most of his laughter stemmed in ridicule, with his brows furrowed and looking at you like you were an alien which made a smile grow on your face, so you decided to lean into it. Did it make you look dumb? Yes. Did it make Dexter laugh? Yes in capital letters.

Deb was the one who finally pointed out what you had been trying to make painfully obvious for weeks.

“Jesus Christ, Dexter,” she said incredulously, smiling at him as if asking are you serious? “Are you blind, or just stupid?”

He looked up from the folder, his expression blank. “What are you talking about?”

“YN. The girl from the lab. She’s been flirting with you nonstop, and you’ve been staring at her like she’s a new blood sample. Do you even know how to human?”

His whole face scrunched up, going over your past interactions in his head. “She hasn’t been flirting. She’s just… talkative.”

Deb rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle she didn’t sprain something. “Oh my God. You’re hopeless. She’s into you, Dex. And honestly? I think she’s kind of awesome. She’s smart, funny, and she’s got this great thing where she acts like an airhead just to see your face do that confused frown thing. It’s hilarious.”

Dexter’s frown deepened. “She does that on purpose?”

“Yeah, dumbass. Seriously, ask her out before she gets bored and moves on to someone who actually knows how to crack a smile.”

Weeks passed, and to Deb’s disdain, Dexter completely ignored her amazing advice. But she wasn’t one to sit idly by and she had had enough.

One afternoon, as you were bent over a microscope in the lab, Deb stormed in with an unyielding grip on Dexter’s arm.

“Hey, YN!” she said, her voice unnaturally cheerful.

“Uh… hey, Deb. What’s going on?”

She didn’t waste any time, her hold on Dexter's arm tightening as she shoved him into the room.

“Dexter has something he wants to ask you,” she announced, crossing her arms and giving Dexter an expectant look.

Fiddling with the pen in your hand, your eyes darted warily to Dexter, not really sure what was going on. And from the looks of it, Dexter didn’t know either. He looked genuinely confused, his eyes wide and his mouth opening and closing as if trying to form words, but nothing came out.

“Uh…”

“For fuck’s sake,” Deb groaned. “He wants to take you out. On a date. There. It’s done. The cat’s out of the bag.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. A warmth surged through you, a small flicker of happiness bubbling up, but then you saw the horrified look on Dexter’s face, and it fizzled just as quickly. You turned back to Deb.

“Wow, Debra. I didn’t know you moonlighted as a matchmaker.”

“I don’t. But someone has to get the ball rolling.”

“And the first step is holding someone hostage?”

“Hosta– are you fucking kidding me?” She turned to her brother, jabbing a finger into his ribs, making him flinch. “Dexter, tell her!”

But before he could say a word, you got up from your chair and headed for the door.

“I appreciate the effort, Deb, but can we discuss this later? I need to bring these to Louis before he has a meltdown.”

“Yeah, well, fuck him,” Deb said as she watched you leave.

“I’d rather not,” you quipped with a smirk, closing the door behind you.

But maybe Deb had a point.

Maybe he should ask you out.

It had been a while since he’d had a girlfriend, and perhaps it was time to change that. Saying no to you outright might be suspicious, and blending in was a cornerstone of his life. Besides, you weren’t so bad. Being around you wasn’t unpleasant. It made sense.

That's actually what he said when he finally asked you out: it makes sense. No fumbling over words or overly rehearsed lines. And you actually liked his reasoning. It was honest in its own way and you appreciated the lack of pretense.

That was one thing you’d learned about Dexter during your time at Miami Metro: he liked a logical approach, unlike most people who responded to emotion, whose actions were driven by feelings. He felt things, sure, just not in the same way, and he rarely expressed them outwardly.

It wasn’t like you were absolutely positive that it could turn into something meaningful or that a relationship with Dexter would last, but his way of interacting with the world was so unconventional that you simply felt drawn to it.

Dexter never really offered grand romantic gestures or gush over your presence in his life. But he noticed things you liked and made small accommodations for them. He listened with the intent to understand. And while he wasn’t exactly overflowing with emotion, you saw the quiet ways he cared.

You’d once mentioned in passing how receiving gifts made you uncomfortable, the pressure to perform gratitude leaving you uneasy. So when you joked that a specific brand of coffee was your lifeblood, he didn’t hand it to you wrapped in a bow. Instead, the next week, it simply appeared in the breakroom.

He wasn’t selfish about it, like most people were when they insisted on seeing your reaction. No, he just wanted to make you happy. And with that, he scored a double.

However, ever since you started going on dates, for the lack of a better word, because neither of you ever labeled it that way, he started second-guessing himself. He became more careful, often overthinking and calculating his answers. You suspected that Deb might have been partly to blame. She was too blunt sometimes, too quick to get into his head. But you made sure to let him know that he was more likely to scare you off by saying nothing rather than saying the wrong thing.

“You’re more confident about that than I am.”

You'd told him that he was the living embodiment of having a wall up. And not any wall. It was as if someone else had built it for him, and he was struggling to climb over it.

“You’re not even bad at climbing. You’re just trying to figure out where to put your hands.”

It was a strange way for your to put it, but you managed to create a whole think tank in his head which often left him with a dull ache between his eyes. He found himself admiring your honesty, the way you refused to put on a mask just to please the people around you or conform to societal expectations.

It’s not like you outright spilled your deepest, darkest secrets, but you gave him glimpses. You hinted at your own traumas that had shaped you, so matter-of-fact and so human.

It stirred something within him. For days, he debated whether to share his own scars, until he finally did, one night during a quiet walk along the beach. It felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from his chest when he told you about his mother, the blood, the screams everything. Well, almost everything. He expected recoil, but it never came. You didn’t judge, it didn’t scare you away; you just looked at him with the same attentiveness, maybe a joke on your tongue about how that explained his line of work, because that's how you coped. And somehow, knowing he knew that made it easier for him to breathe.

And that night was also the night he kissed you for the first time. He didn’t plan for it. He just simply looked at you and the moonlight twinkling in your eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a different kind of urge. One he didn’t have to fight or wait to satisfy it. He let himself feel.

Later that evening, you also invited him to spend the night at your place.

He’d be lying if he said that he regretted a single second spent with you. Yeah, you never seemed to stop talking, never seemed to stop moving.

“It’s like you’re daring your neurons to keep up,” he’d said to you one day.

“Well, I need to keep my synaptic connections in shape, right?”

But still, you made the chaos seem… manageable. You were a walking paradox, bringing a strange sense of order to his life, a balance. He started to think that this was his final and definitive chance at happiness. And he wasn’t going to screw it up. Nobody was going to take you away from him. Nobody, and it was in his control.

Before you could discuss it further, the nurse came back with a new bandage.

“Your boyfriend, I presume?” she asked with a warm smile, glancing between the two of you. But Dexter barely looked at her, his focus was entirely on you.

“Was it him?” He tilted his head toward Louis, his voice low enough that only you could hear, but you saw the nurse make her way to you to apply the bandage.

“Not here,” you murmured, darting a glance toward Louis, who was still lingering near the door.

The nurse, oblivious to the tension, spoke up. “She’s going to be fine. The burn isn’t deep, and the cuts didn’t hit anything major. Could’ve been worse. You might’ve earned yourself a Nobel Prize for dedication to science, though.”

She smiled, and you saw Dexter’s lips twitch into a grimace that was supposed to look like a smile.

“What chemicals?” he asked.

“Phenol and chloroform mix,” you replied, and the nurse followed up.

“Not ideal for skin, but we got to it quickly. Keep the bandage clean and dry, and she’ll be good as new.”

“Thanks,” Dexter said shortly. Then, turning back to you, he added, “I’ll be right back.”

“Dex…” you began, knowing very well where his mind had taken him. And honestly, a part of you didn’t even want to stop him, because you wanted Louis to leave you alone.

“I said I'll be right back,” he repeated, his voice stern.

Dexter straightened to his full height and walked toward Louis, a predator closing in on its prey.

“So? How is she?” Louis asked as soon as Dexter approached him.

“How do you think, Louis? I suggest you stop fucking around or I’ll make your life really difficult.”

“What?” Louis laughed with faux confusion. “I was just trying to help.”

“Yeah, and I think you’ve done enough. You can leave now. And if I find out you had anything to do with this, anything at all, you’ll wish it was you sitting on that hospital bed. Do you understand?”

“Geez, Dexter, are you –”

Dexter took a step closer without raising suspicion from other people.

“I’m serious, Louis. Do you understand?”

Louis nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Good. Now get out of my sight.”

Louis turned on his heel, but before making his exit, he turned to Dexter one more time. “Well… Catch you at work.”

Dexter ground his teeth, closing his eyes as he tried to suppress his need to protect you from Louis right then and there. He’d started seeing crimson the moment you texted him about Louis taking you to the hospital. Now, it was spilling everywhere, the red taking over his body, causing it to shake and ring in his ears. He wanted to fucking kill him. Louis had been trying to provoke him for quite some time, but he just crossed a line. Nobody will ever hurt you without consequences.

“Are you okay?” A soft voice brought him back to the present, your hand lightly brushing over his back as you tried to comfort him, ground him.

“No. I think I’ll kill him.”

You snorted. “Okay, drama queen,” you said, and hooked your arm around his, making your way out of the hospital.

Dexter hadn’t said a word during the drive, not a single one.

He’d even turned on his marching music, which he rarely did when you were with him. That was a signal in itself. He was thinking. Hard.

Once you reached his apartment, he tossed his keys onto the counter with an unusual force, and without a word, he headed straight for the first aid kit.

“Dex, I just got it bandaged. You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do. I want to see for myself.”

You weren’t entirely sure if this had something to do with the whole I don’t trust nurses thing or just general paranoia, but you decided not to argue.

“I know this isn’t your fault, but you should’ve worn your coat,” he said, his voice almost shaking as he held back from lashing out.

“I know.”

Dexter gestured for you to sit on the couch, taking a seat himself on the low table in front of you. He gently reached for your hand and began unwrapping the bandage.

“Tell me what happened.”

You described the incident in detail, including your suspicions that Louis might have been involved. Dexter gave you that Kubrick stare as his jaw tightened at the mention of Louis’ name.

When he uncovered the burn ringed by shallow cuts, he muttered a quiet Jesus.

“Once it starts blistering, you can’t scratch it, okay? It could get infected.”

“Yes, doctor,” you teased lightly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “That’s what the nurse said.”

It made his head twitch as he gave you a look. But he didn’t comment, instead gently placing your hand in his lap as he prepared a fresh bandage.

“Do you have any other samples left?” he asked, and it warmed your heart knowing that he cared about your lab work, too.

“Yeah, I should have some stored at the station,” you said. “Unless Louis decided to get rid of them too.”

“I’ll head back and check on them for you.”

“Well, I’m coming too. I need to get back to the lab, it’s not like I’m incapable of running the experiment again.”

That was a hard no. He didn't even have to think about it.

He didn’t like the idea of you being back at the lab, not when Louis was going to be there. But he also knew he couldn’t keep you away from the lab for long, so he needed to do this fast. He convinced you to stay at his place until the next day, at least. After all, you did feel tired from the burning pain and the pills that started to kick in. As Dexter stood to leave, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, before kissing you on the lips, anchoring himself to you before heading back to work. And to take care of Louis once and for all.

It was easy. Louis was obsessed with serial killers, but he still lacked the skillset Dexter’s usual victims challenged him with. Now, he was going to give him the full-time experience.

He broke into his apartment and waited until Louis got home. A sharp prick to the neck and strapping him to a chair. Not his usual routine, but this wasn’t really to satisfy his urges. This was to protect you.

Once he was all tied up, Dexter broke a capsule of smelling salt under his nose and Louis' eyes shot open. Dexter wasn’t going to waste much time here, but he brought something to make it more enjoyable for himself.

“Wakey-wakey,” Dexter’s voice broke through the fog of Louis’s confusion.

He blinked, before he started thrashing against the rope. “What the hell?!” he shouted, panic rising in his voice. “What is this?!”

Dexter stepped closer to him, a faint curl of a smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. In his right hand, he held a bunch of vials filled with liquid.

“Do you know what chemical burn feels like, Louis?”

“What?” he asked, confused at first, but then it dawned on him. “Wait, wait, wait! I didn’t do anything! I was just looking out for her. A-Accidents happen! Labs are dangerous places if you’re not careful, you know that!” Louis rambled, making Dexter watch him with an amused smile.

“Accidents don’t usually involve sabotage,” Dexter said evenly.

“Sabotage? Jesus, Dexter, you're blowing this way out of proportion. You're doing all this for some chick? Does her pussy feel that good?"

Dexter lurched forward, his fist connecting with Louis's face before he could react, the chair creaking against the floor as it moved with Dexter's strength. He leaned down to Louis’ eye-level, pointing a finger at his face. Louis squeezed his eyes shut, his bloody face scrunching in fear.

“Don't push it, Louis,” he said through his teeth. Dexter was quick to recover, his calm mask slipping back into place. “Let's talk about the fact that accidents always seem to happen when you’re around.”

Louis coughed, spitting blood onto the plastic-covered floor.

“You’ve got a pretty vivid imagination.”

Dexter’s lips twitched. He rose to his full height and backed away just to put down one of the vials and take a piece of cloth instead. He poured the chemical on it as he talked.

“It’s called pattern recognition,” he said, coming around the chair to stand behind Louis. “You should be familiar with that by now.” And with that, he stuffed the wet rug into his mouth. Louis twitched and thrashed, but Dexter was stronger. He made sure the cloth didn’t fall out, that Louis got the exact taste of what you’d gone through.

“How is it, Louis? You have my full attention now! The only time I’m willing to listen to your bullshit!”

He tortured him some more, before pulling the cloth out. As soon as Louis’ mouth was free, he started coughing. Then, Dexter poured some of the prepared solution on his glove.

“Did I get the concentration right, or was it too strong?” Dexter asked, rubbing his covered fingers together, the rubber shining under the kitchen light. Louis’ breathing quickened.

“Please. I won’t go near her again. I swear!” Louis cried out.

Dexter leaned in close again, his face inches from Louis’.

“You’re right. You won’t.”

And without further explanation, he pressed the gloved hand against Louis’ arm, holding it there long enough for the sting to start. Before Louis’ scream got too loud, Dexter stuffed his mouth with the rug again as he writhed in pain, the burning sensation spreading.

“That’s just a fraction of what she felt. And you’re lucky I’m in a forgiving mood tonight. Otherwise, I would pour it right into your fucking eyes, your mouth, I would cut your skin open and fill it up before stitching it back together.” Dexter put his still wet hand on a different part of Louis’ arm, watching him squirm. “I would make you fucking drown in it.”

Dexter stepped back, watching Louis’ chest rise and fall with his heavy breathing, some tears sliding down his cheeks, mixing with his blood. Dexter closed his eyes, bathing in that satisfactory feeling as he breathed in, the smell of chemicals and sweat and fear tickling his nostrils. He made his way to the counter where his knives were splayed out, taking the sharpest one and making his way behind Louis again.

“Goodnight, Louis.”

And with that, he sliced his neck, blood spilling onto the plastic underneath the chair.

When he came home that night, he found you still on his couch. Safe and sound. Your bandaged arm rested on the book you were reading, and when you looked at him, you greeted him with that casual smile of yours.

It was so genuine, so automatic. Like it had been waiting just for him. He couldn’t let himself be the reason you’d ever lose it, couldn’t let his or anyone else's world dim yours.

Without saying a word, he approached you, pinched your chin between his fingers and tilted your head to kiss that smile, because he knew it would only make you grin wider, and that’s what he wanted. He was making a silent promise, to you and to himself, to keep it safe, because seeing you light up like that, illuminating his dark world was everything he needed. And he wanted it to last.

[revelboo]

cue getting picked up and carried like a damned puppy/kitten by a huge robo t-rex, eh?

Pretty much

Shiver Pt 2

IDW Grimlock x Reader

• Wheezing softly, aware of the keening, pitiful noises you’re making as you dangle by the back of your jacket and backpack from its jaws, swinging with the monster’s heavy steps. Honestly shocked that it had picked you up like a momma cat with a kitten and without a single, huge pointy denta so much as scraping your skin. Far from reassuring, you’re just sure it’s taking you somewhere to eat later.

• Can hear you making soft, frightened noises still. And he has no idea what to do with you. Let you go and you’ll just run screaming and bring back trouble when he just wants to be left alone? Doesn’t want to hurt you, but he nearly had trying to pick you up in his jaws. It’s so hard to focus and your panic stirs all sorts of instincts. Acting like prey. Because if you run, he’ll chase again. He can’t not. Venting to pull the scent of you, warm, alive, and afraid, deep into himself, he heads deeper into the woods, hunting for the dilapidated building he’d found by accident. Head lifting to place you on the roof when he finds it, he retreats as you scoot backwards, stopping as the surface creaks under you.

• It’s dropped you on the roof of that ratty old hunting cabin. Afraid to move as it stares at you, head turned sideways to see you better, it grumbles. Well, if it doesn’t kill you, falling through the rotten roof will. Or trying to jump down. What even is the thing? Your first thought, dinosaur, T-Rex isn’t quite right. It is, but it’s also a robot. A big, impossible monster that doesn’t seem to know what to do with you. Scooting to the edge of the roof, heart in your throat as the rotten shingles shift and sag under you, you look at the closest tree. Can you jump to it and climb down? No. Can you reach it without jumping? Sliding onto your hip, you stretch out a foot for a branch. Hear the snarl. “Don’t.” The rough word, more growl than an actual word freezes you. Giant, robot dinosaur can talk? Then, can it be reasoned with?

• “I just want down. Okay?” That voice is shockingly soft when it’s not screaming or hissing frightened nonsense. Head tipping to the other side, his optics narrow as you try to reach the branch of a nearby tree. “And I’ll pretend I never saw you, okay?” Why does that voice stroke over him, chaining the chaos in his processor so sweetly? Wants you to keep talking. Say anything. Moving closer, he uses his muzzle to push you away from the edge of the roof. Hears your frightened gasp and feels those tiny hands on him as he nudges you to safety. And then lingers, jaw against you. Studying you, organic and so strange.

• “Talk,” it growls, lip lifting to show off those awful, jagged points. And yeah, it wants you to talk? Absolutely. Its massive head is warm against your leg and side, every venting growl washing warm air over you as you just nervously ramble like your life depends on it. About your family, your job, your neighbors. Anything. And then yelping as its head shifts to knock you flat, jaw resting on top of you and it’s so heavy you can barely breathe. Making that low, grumbling sound that your stressed out brain decides sounds like purring. Wheezing, you keep up the chatter as it makes that rumbling, purring noise. Trying to think of a way to escape.

Previous

Next

[romulusthethird]

Demon Twins AU Prompt

Okay, so reading the dozens of DC X DP prompts and stories on Tumblr incites the juices as it wont to do, and I have an idea! Basically, at the barebones of this idea, is that, unlike the usual demon twins fics, where Dami kills Danny and he ends up in Amity, or the ones where he fakes his death, and all that jazz (heh)-- my idea is that they both... came out wrong. Neither of them are capable of dying. They grow up together, in the league, constantly killing each other. The wounds heal, but the scars remain. There are other abilities, like they're faster, stronger, and they have a quirk (in this case, Danny can still fly, and lets say Dami can disappear, become one with the shadows). They would kill for each other, and won't stand any slight against the other, but they also fucking hate each other and they spend half the time killing the other.

--

Immortal Demon Twins AU part 1

It is a glorious day in Nanda Parbat. It is their birthday, the tenth year of their existence. There will be a celebration, as expected of the grandsons of the Demon's Head, and they will be showered with gifts and given the day off from training and their tutors. However, at the end of the day, there will be a test.

The usual ritual, fighting their mother for the chance to learn about, and eventually someday meet, their father. Bruce Wayne. The Batman. Prince of Gotham, billionaire, vigilante, leader of the Justice League.

Danny doesn't care about the man at all, but Damien wanted to meet him, and as much as he hates his brother, he wasn't going to get in his way. He doesn't participate in the fights, but he watches, and if the boy was too injured after, he'd give the finishing blow. Their wounds healed in death, and it was nothing more than torture to make him heal over a course of months what could heal in hours.

Danny woke his brother up at the sun's rise, leaping onto the bed with a dagger in hand. "Rise and shine, ahki al'asghar~"

Dami's eyes snap open, alert despite the fog still clouding them. He kicks out, shoving his brother off him. "Danny. It's too early."

"Nonsense. It's our birthday. The tenth one. You survived ten years, ahki al'asghar."

Dami scowls. "No thanks to you."

Danny taps the jagged scars on his throat. "A for effort." Danny had given it to the other boy when they were five, not yet fully used to his strength nor the sword in his hands. His brother had bled out, but was alive less than nine hours later. That wasn't the first time he'd died, and it wasn't the last.

Dami laughs, "I got an eye in return, didn't I?" He did. Danny was blind in his right eye, an injury that healed on its own. It's why they'd died so many times. Easier to heal when their hearts had stopped. If they don't, it would lead to things like his eye or Dami's missing pinky finger.

"Whatever. The sun is up, let's go to the baths before they get crowded! Yalla!"

Damien clicks his tongue. "khalas."

Danny grins, teeth a touch too sharp, and physically drags his reluctant, "younger by fifteen seconds!" twin to the bathhouse to wash off before their morning absolutions.

It went by quickly, with only one attempted drowning, and they end up eating a hearty breakfast with all of their favorite foods like Dami's falafel with cream cheese (gross) and his own special meal of chocolate cereal and milk. Dami turned his nose up at the count chocolate cereal and said, "Your teeth are going to rot."

"They regenerate."

Dami sniffs in reply, taking a bigger bite of tomato, chickpeas, and cream cheese.

"You're disgusting." Danny grimaces at the boy, shuffling away from him and his gross food.

He catches the knife thrown at him, scoffing at the tiny blade.

He doesn't know who throws the first punch, but he's missing a tooth at the end (Dami throws it at him and taunts, "regenerate that").

It's only the "Habibi" call of his mother that stalls the two preteens. They pause from their position on the floor, chunks of artificial chocolate cereal and tomato in their hair and on their clothes, Dami's hands grabbing Danny's longer hair while Danny's hands are on his throat.

"Boys." She sighs. "Just because it is your birthday does not mean you can act like ruffians in the kitchen. Go clean up. We have to start the festivities."

Danny groans, leaning up and shoving his brother off him. "I hate them, you know I hate them. Grandfather's friends are so stuffy and boring, and the rest just stand there, like statues."

She raises an eyebrow at him, which causes the older boy (by fifteen seconds!) to whine and groan, before walking out the door, back to the bathhouse. He hears her tell Dami to "behave" and grins.

--

"Are you ready, Habibi?" His mother asks his twin, hours later, at the time of dusk, drawing her sword in the courtyard. Damien's response is to grab his own katana and get into a battle stance, lowering his legs, and raising his sword, pointing it at her.

"I am ready, mother."

Danny watches. Like every year since they were old enough to understand the concept of a father. He doesn't want to meet him, doesn't feel the need to have a father when he had Mother and Dami, as much as the boy annoyed him.

"Don't die." He says, just before he banged the gong.

It's fast, seconds turning into minutes as their swords clash loudly, his mother dodging more than she parried or went on the offense. She was defending more than usual, letting Dami wack and whirl and stab and hit. It confuses him, but he continues to watch.

He won't interfere, regardless of the outcome.

That doesn't lessen his surprise when Dami wins.

No, when their mother lets him win.

She smiles the little smile she gets when she is victorious and says, "You have won, Damien. That means you are worthy of meeting your father."

And-- what?

This doesn't make any sense. Danny knows what these meetings are; false hope for something that was never going to happen. A simple way to keep their youngest in line. It had worked with their oldest, Danishara (he goes by Dan). It had worked with Athanasia, who died trying to meet the man years ago. He doesn't know what happened to her, just that mother put her in the Lazarus Pit, and she never came out.

"You and Danny leave tonight."

What? "But Mother, I don't want to meet him. Let me stay. I don't want to go!"

"You'd leave your brother alone, and defenseless? Think of what happened to your sister. I cannot lose another child, Danyal." Danny cringes. His sister had been alone, on a mission, trying to prove herself, and had drawn too much attention in the process. Enemies of Ra's had caught the thirteen-year-old and killed her. It had been two years since then. Dan still hasn't gotten over it, and nor has Ellisha, another sister of theirs. They don't see them often, Ellie is often in some reach of the world, and rarely comes back to NP, while Dan is running his own underground mercenary group out of Russia. They never see any of their family. Not Dusan, their khaal, or Nyssa, their Khala.

"He can't die."

"We never know what will happen until it happens, Habibi."

He knew it was a lost cause, but still, he tried to argue. "Go with him to Gotham, get him settled, and if you really want to come back, you can."

"Really?"

"I swear it."

And so, Danny agrees, pensive and upset, and follows his brother, whose lips would not stop quirking up, to their room to pack. "I am unsure about this," he tells the other boy when they are alone. "We do not know this man, nor his children--"

"We are the blood children," Damien cuts in. "That is all that matters. He will love us, just like Mother does."

Danny hums in discontention. "I don't think blood matters to him, but he already has other blood children. That woman... Helena is also his blood."

"She is a girl, it's different." Damien says, but Danny can see he too is worried.

"What if he doesn't love us? What if all he sees is... well, us?"

"What's wrong with us?" Damien shoots back, angrily shoving robes into his bag. "We are mighty and strong. We do not die. We excel in everything we are taught."

"We also kill. Maim. Torture. We are... we are not like his other children."

"I thought you didn't care about him-- about having a father."

"I don't," Danny said quickly, reluctantly revealing, "I looked into him, though. I wanted to know if we look like him or Mother. While we resemble him, we take too much from Mother. We don't look like his brood--pale, with blue eyes. Kids he took off the street. We were planned, designed, raised with expectations. Our skin, our features, the green in our eyes is all Mother and Grandfather, and I fear he won't look past that. It doesn't help that Mother's advice is 'take out the competition' like that will endear us to the man."

"...I still want to meet him."

"I know, Ahki. I know."

Danny zipped up his bag. "Maybe when we're there, we can see about seeing Dan or Ellie again."

That cheered up his brother, and it sickened Danny--how nice he was being to the annoyance. Just so he wouldn't forget his place, Danny shoved the boy into a suit of armor, ignoring his outraged scream as the spear stabbed the other boy in the stomach.

"I'll see you on the plane, ahki al'asghar."

--

Danny wakes to drool on arm, the weight of his brother leaning against him, warm and reassuring. His Mother sits across from them.

She is looking out the window, as the sun rises, catching her pale green eyes in its rays. She is beautiful. She is a cold, calculated killer that claims to love Danny and his brother. Loved them even as they tore from her recently revived body in the waters of the Lazarus Pool--much to the glee of their Grandfather.

She is strong.

She is his mother.

She is scheming.

"Why now?"

She looks back at him, eyes soft in a way they almost never are in the treacherous walls of their keep.

"Does he even know we exist?"

Her eyes look down at his brother and then back up to him. "Because I love you."

He blinks. Their family was never one for vocal terms of affection or declarations. Why would she--

Ah. "It's him, isn't it?"

She doesn't ask who he is referring to.

"Athanasia died, Danyal." She glances out the window again. "Danishara and Ellisha... You are so young, Habibi. You are all so young. I had my oldest when I was young."

"That doesn't answer my question."

She huffs a small, amused laugh. She smiles at him in a way she's never before. "You are both so much like your father."

Danny scowls. "Am not."

"It is not a bad thing. You inhabit all of our best qualities. You and your siblings."

"Will he really like us? Accept us? I know what outsiders think of the league, Mother. I am not naive. He- He has children."

"He does." She agrees. "three boys and two girls."

"Why would he want more?"

She mulls over that, and then says, "Do you know why Dan and Ellie never met their father?"

Danny shrugs. "I had ideas."

"When I was young," she starts, "I fell in love with a boy. He was too pretty to be real, and I wanted him to be mine. They were the result." She pauses. "He disappeared shortly after that, and I never saw him again. There is no way for them to meet him and even after searching for the entirety of your Ellie's life, he has no appeared on this Earth. You deserve to know your father."

She stands up. "Let me see how long it will take to land."

She leaves, both of her children mulling over her words in her wake. "We will always have each other," Damien whispers. A sign of weakness that Danny does not exploit. He looks out the window, hand shoved against his brother's. He says nothing when the other boy clasps his fingers with his own.

He does nothing when he continues to hold his hand to the car, and even still, tighter, until they are at the manor of one Bruce Wayne.

It is a waiting game, then. Looking perfect and pristine in the foyer of this grand mansion.

No one is there to greet then when they slip inside. Not until Mother checks her watch, rolls her eyes, and walks back over to the door to trip an alarm. They tumble in like baby chicks, misty-eyed and in uniforms they rushed to put on.

"Beloved." Mother greets the one standing in the middle, wearing all black, ready to defend his gaggle of sidekicks. "I see time has done you wonders."

"Talia," he growls. Danny has never heard anyone talk to his mother with such disrespect. He itches to take out his sword and strike down the slag, but it is only the knowledge that he is their father, and Damien's hand in his that stopped him. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to give you a gift," she says, smiling despite the coldness in her eyes.

"We don't want it," Robin, Tim Drake-Wayne says, "So you can just leave."

"It is not up to you, little bird." She reponds. "This is between myself, my beloved, and his children."

The boy flinches, its small, but noticable. A weakness.

""He is my child, Talia. So, I'll ask again: what do you want?"

She looks at him for a time, studying his face, before she chuckles. "Very well, beloved. Come here, Habibis."

The bats look confused, until Damien and Danny step away from the wall, seeming to appear out of thin air. The air is tense, and the bats are readying to fight when they stop at their mother's side.

She grabs their shoulders and pushes them forward.

"Beloved, meet our children. This is Damien," she gestures to his brother, "and this is Danny. Say hello boys."

Damien grunts while Danny looks up at the man-- their father. He doesn't look like much, truly. A tired old man, tense, with wide, bright blue eyes.

"Is this a joke? Do you think this is funny, Talia?"

"You can run all the tests you want, Beloved, but they are yours."

Danny looks at the three children behind Batman, older than them. Cassandra, Timothy, and Helena. Three unknowns. Black cat, unknown, and Robin. They don't look like much. They looked like Dan and Ellie could squash them like bugs, easily.

He says as much to Dami, whispering in arabic that they weren't impressive and that he doubted this was really their father, because he was too old and ugly. Dami scowls, whispering back that this was an important moment and that Danny was ruining it. Naturally, Danny snaps back that he didn't even want to come meet this geriatric lame guy who dresses in spandex and his circus, and that he was only here because Mother doubted Dami's strength and skill.

Danny watches the boy's face slowly turn red in amusement. Then, before the bats could blink, there is a blade in Dami's hand and he lunges for his brother. He manages to knick his arm before their mother grabs his ear and twists.

"Ow, ow, ow, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, stop, that hurts--"

"Boys."

Danny looks up from where he was trying to lick the blood off his arm (it was coming out too fast for this to be effective. It looks like Dami hit an artery) and Dami manages to get out of his mother's hold, and hides behind Danny, like that was going to protect him.

"It's like Jason and Tim all over again..."

"What have I said about fighting?"

"But Mother, he--"

"No."

Danny grins at the sight of Dami's pout.

"You have lost the priviledge to come home, Danyal. Don't think I don't know you started it. You must stay however long Damien stays."

Danny jerks at that. "I don't want to stay! You said just until Dami was settled. He is settled, we met the old bat, we have achieved our goal of meeting the sperm donor. I want to go home now." He left all his stuff at home. Like his favorite blanket, and the doll Dami stole for him on their first mission, and all of his suveniors from Ellie, and the guns that Dan gave him--

"Your stuff will arrive within a week," she says knowingly. "Enjoy your stay with your father," is all she says, kissing their heads, a final goodbye, and left.

Danny stares at her retreating figure.

Damien tries to reach for him, but he is too angry. "I do not want to stay," he states.

"I know."

"I do not care for the bat man."

"I know."

"I want to go home."

"I--"

The batman looks at them, slowly peeling his cowl back from his face. They do look like him. Identical in features, the only difference being the coloring. Danny scowls. "I do not want you," he tells the man. "I want Mother. I do not need you."

"...We should treat your arm."

Danny scowls harder, shoving Damien away. The boy rolls his eyes and threatens to finish the job.

Danny would let him.

He does not want to be here.

And he does not know why his mother had forced him to come.

--

Damien doesn't know that normal siblings don't grow their organs back, or maybe he does, and he isn't thinking. Maybe it is just that his first instinct has always been stab first, taunt later.

Tim Drake-Wayne crumbles into a ball on the floor, clutching his side, where blood was quickly pooling out.

Damien grunted in disgust.

What a waste of a good knife. It was still in the other boy, and he had a feeling he wasn't getting it back.

It is deserved, though. No one got away with talking about his mother. Not even Danny.

"What did you do?!" Bruce Wayne yells, anger rolling off him in waves.

It wasn't his voice, but Danny's that rang out in the suddenly silent bat cave in answer. "Pathetic. If he can't even dodge that he really isn't any match for Dan."

"Are we sure this is our family? Can we get a DNA test? I think Mother brought us to the wrong house."

Which was entirely fair, in Damien's mind. He doesn't know that the rest of the world was different than Nanda Parbat. He doesn't know that they were different, that it isn't normal to try to kill your siblings, and succeed, and then have said sibling come back to life.

It isn't normal to be strong and fast and deadly.

He doesn't know that it was normal to fall to a stab wound.

He doesn't know it is normal to yell when angry.

He doesn't know anything past what he has been taught, and what he's been taught showed him that Timothy Drake is weak.

He is pathetic.

He is not worthy of his position as Robin, nor his place in this house.

He says as such.

The look... his father gives him hurt. It scares. It makes him feel inhuman. Like a monster.

He suddenly understands what Danny had meant.

He does not want them.

He does not want him.

Damien too wants to go back to Mother.

He also wants a DNA test done immediately (because parents aren't supposed to look at you that way: like you are scum; horrible, vile, not worth living. He is scared, and his chest hurts, and there is a lump in his throat, and this place is strange--) His hand finds Danny's again, like it had in the plane, and Danny doesn't swat him away when he grips his hand tight.

He's afraid too.

--

So that's part one!

Honestly this whole prompt idea stems from me wanting damien and danny to just constantly kill one another and have the bats go apeshit lol. Thanks for reading!

--

Translations:

ahki al'asghar - {younger brother, if google is correct?? lmk if it's not tho!}

Yalla - hurry up

khalas - alright

khaal - Uncle

Khala - Aunt

--

Also, the timeline differences with characters in this au is simply because I wanted to :) and DC canon is all over the fucking place lets be real, they reinvent and change shit all the time, I am allowed to tweak Athanasia and Helena and all of the other shit I might tweak.

Ages btw:

Danny and Damien: 10

Dan: 19

Ellie: 17

Athanasia (if she were alive): 15

Tim: 15-16

Jason: 20

Helena: 22

Dick: 25

Cass: 16?

Bruce: 43ish? idk

Talia: 34

Alfred: Immortal but looks like he's 57

Ra's: dying but also like a millenia old mf

--

also [I have no idea how falafel tastes, only that Danny considers falafel and cream cheese to be gross together, and adding tomato to it makes him wonder if he and Damien are related. Google said that its usually like chickpeas, fava beans, herbs, onions, spices, and garlic. I've never had them, and I haven't had them with cream cheese so IDK if they'd be good together, but Danny does not think so lol] :)

[multifariousqueer]

Hi! I see your looking for felix requests?

Can you do a felix who is obsessed with a reader who doesnt care for him?

Fsfs babes!!!

Warning: Felix being a stalker, Farleigh being a catty bitch, fluff, I think that's it

“Dude, stop staring," Farleigh says in a huff.

"Don't be ridiculous, Farleigh I'm not staring" Felix defended, despite his tireless efforts, his attempts at convincing others and himself that he wasn't obsessed with your being were in vain as no one believed him, not even himself.

Felix had noticed you from across the quad at Oxford on the first day of school. Your brown eyes glowed as your chest heaved with laughter at your friend's joke. He watched in envy as your full attention was placed on your friend and how he got to bask in your presence. From that moment on, Felix was obsessed with you.

It started out simple enough, Felix joined all of your classes and he would always sit a row behind you so he could watch you and what you were doing; Felix justified this as him wanting to learn more about you(and smell your hair). Whenever you would raise your hand in class, Felix would swoon over how smart you are. He took notice of how you would turn to your guy friend and high-five him whenever you got above a B on a test or quiz and Felix's brows would furrow in jealousy and envy as your guy friend absorbed your attention. Felix began to question what drew you to him so much, was it his money? Felix had plenty of money. Was it his looks? Felix considered himself more handsome than most. So what was it? He didn't know, but he was willing to learn.

Felix started to slip you anonymous gifts and letters to your dorm every week. He bought you anything and everything, from roses to tennis bracelets worth thousands. You once walked into your dorm and saw a diamond necklace and a new iPod on your bed(after ranting to your best friend about needing a new one) with a note that read:

"A very pretty necklace for a very pretty girl ;). Love, your secret admirer"

You squealed and thought that your best friend had gotten it for you. The next day in class, you thanked him profusely only for him to look confused and say:

"uhhh thanks?"

Felix's blood began to boil. He couldn't believe that this Jag was taking credit for a $5,000 necklace and a new iPod that Felix had gone out of his way to buy. It wasn't a huge expense on Felix, he bought it with some money he found in his dorm but it was the principle of the fact that irked his last nerve. From that moment on, he despised your friend and began his plan to win you over.

Felix wasn't stupid, he wanted to keep tabs on you so he had the iPod implanted with a tracker so he could have your documents on his phone. Next, he saw that you were going to the pub so he decided to make his move there and ask you out by buying you a drink. He saw your message to your friend about loving a specific scent on men and he went out and bought it the next day. Felix put on his best outfit and gathered his friends to go to the pub.

You were sitting in a black dress that was a tad bit too short and nursing a cosmopolitan. Felix saw you and his eyes immediately lit up:

"Do I hear wedding bells?" Farleigh teased, holding a cigarette and smirking

"Shut up, Farleigh" Felix said, blushing as he made his way over to you.

He walked up to the bar and asked the bartender for a cosmopolitan on him:

"I'll buy the lady's next one" he said, confidently

"Oh! Thank you but I was just about to head home" you said

"Nonsense, it's only 12 on a Friday," Felix said trying to get you to stay.

"No no, I should get home and study but it was nice speaking to you and Thank you for the drink offer" you said, attempting to excuse yourself but Felix's strong build held you in.

"Oh come now, Y/n. Have fun it's just one drink" he smiled

"How do you know my name?" you asked confused

Felix realized that he had slipped up. He was supposed to ask your name and you were supposed to introduce yourself in a story that he would tell your future children.

"Uhh we're in the same class" he stumbled

"Which class?" you asked

All of them. But Felix couldn't say that because he didn't want to scare you off so he settled with:

"Literature"

"Ohhhh. Hey don't you sit behind me? Oh! You must be Felix" you stood up, suddenly remembering where this suave stranger was from

"Yeah haha. Small world, huh?" he said, relief littering his tone.

"Yeah" you cooed.

"Well I should leave but maybe we could get drinks another time, here's my number," you said giving Felix the number to your new ipod.

"Yeah of course, darling" Felix smirked

"Darling?" you asked, tilting your head a bit smiling

"Yes?" Felix let out a cheeky smile.

[lathalea]

The Arrival

Yes, my beloved readers, it's time for another Thorin fic from yours truly!

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader/OC (pick one) Rating: G Warnings: none Author's notes: Thorin and his Company have reclaimed Erebor and started rebuilding their kingdom. Everything seems fine except for the fact that the King Under The Mountain is eagerly awaiting the arrival of someone very dear to him... Also, I want to apologise to Peter Jackson for stealing some lines from An Unexpected Journey and J.R.R. Tolkien for appropriating and rephrasing one sentence from The Lord of The Rings.  I'm a hopeless romantic, what can I say? You can find this fic on AO3. For @legolasbadass 💙💙💙

Khuzdul: Iglishmêk - dwarven sign language Kurdelê - my heart Lukhdelê - my light of all lights

The King Under the Mountain, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, the second of his name, also known as Thorin Oakenshield, the king of Durin’s folk, was not a patient Dwarf—and yet he waited. He had been standing on the main terrace above the Great Gate of Erebor since the moment when the first rays of the morning sun gilded the distant peaks of the Iron Hills. His eyes, however, were turned towards the west, where the jagged tops of the Misty Mountains grazed against the pink sky. As he took a deep breath, fresh spring air filled his lungs. It was his—and his people’s—first spring in Erebor since it was reclaimed. The winter after the Battle of Five Armies passed in a blink of an eye. The kingdom was being rebuilt and prepared for the returning Dwarves, food stores had to be replenished, new trade agreements had to be signed… but among all those duties, something else kept Thorin awake until late on many a night. His memories.

The memory of a pair of hands gently resting on his shoulders as he sat behind his desk, and the sweet timbre of the voice that went with it, “Come, Kurdelê, it is time we reposed for the night, those reports can wait until the morning.”

The memory of those soft, sweet lips pressing innocently against his cheek and murmuring something scandalously indecent into his ear.

The memory of how her body felt in his lap, his arms around her waist, her arms around his neck, her forehead pressed against his, her silver laughter as she pretended to scold his rash behaviour, so unbecoming of a king.

The memory of her bare skin in candlelight.

But there were other memories, too. Their lengthy late-night conversations about anything and everything. Their secret escapades to the market, or to an inn, dressed as common folk, pretending to be a couple of travelling merchants. Their wanderings through the Blue Mountains in search of the best view of the sea in the west (his choice) and the most beautiful flower glades (her choice). 

During the lengthy council meetings he had to hold almost daily in Erebor, he would recall how much her presence changed the dynamics of similar gatherings back in the Blue Mountains. Her reasoning was swift, and her no-nonsense approach to the matters of state made even the most ancient council members nod in approval. Even now, he would—out of habit—turn to his right, wishing to discuss a matter with her or ask for her insight. But she was not there, and so he would give out a dissatisfied grunt and return to the matter at hand. 

He knew that the only thing he had to do was wait, and he abhorred it. But there was nothing to be done. No sane person would risk crossing the Misty Mountains in the middle of winter. Now, however, the spring came into its own right. And he sent his best men to the High Pass to oversee the approach of the first dwarven caravan from Eriador. It was supposed to bring the first group of his people returning home, merchants, masters of craft, their families and belongings… and her. The whole Erebor was waiting for the arrival of their kin—the symbol of a new beginning for the Mountain and its dwellers. Many eyes turned to the west, counting the days, making wagers, discussing the route the waggons must have taken, and the current road conditions. It seemed that in those days, only one topic existed: the caravan.

But Thorin could only think of her lovely hand in his.  Of her kindred touch.

As soon as a raven brought word from the caravan, reporting that they have succesfully crossed the mountains, he could not stop himself from looking to the west, and hoping. 

This was the fifth day he spent on the terrace, waiting for any signs of the caravan’s approach.

On the first day, Gloin waited with him in hopes of seeing his wife and son, but was called away due to some issue in the treasure chamber. Thorin stayed, cursing the enchanted forest (and its haughty king, for good measure) for daring to obscure his view. Sadly, neither the forest nor its king moved out of the way.

On the second day, Dwalin asked Thorin whether he was growing mawkish in his dotage, staring at the edge of Mirkwood like a lovesick whelp—a question he had to take back on the training grounds. 

On the third day, Dori asked whether Thorin would rather wait inside, on account of that nasty rain, and drink some warm tea with honey. No, said Thorin, he would not. And that envoy from the Iron Hills could join him there, on the terrace, by the way.

On the fourth day, Nori, Bifur and Bofur kept Thorin company, amusing him—and themselves in equal measure—with the latest gossip straight from the taverns of Erebor (all two of them, for now). He had no idea that several hundreds of dwarves, mostly newcomers from the Iron Hills and the White Mountains, could wreak such havoc. And marry so swiftly and in such numbers. Spring was truly in the air.

Now, on the fifth day, he stood alone, and waited. Roac was circling the Long Lake below, giving out a single caw from time to time, “Still nothing.”

And then, a hunting horn rang out in the air. Thorin knew its sound all too well.

“Balin!” he exclaimed to his friend who sat in the hall beyond the terrace. “Sound the alarm!”

The elderly dwarf raised his head from above a piece of parchment, slightly puzzled.

“Call out the guard,” Thorin insisted, feeling his impatience take the better of him. “Do it now! 

“What is it?” Balin rose from his seat, his scroll forgotten.

“The caravan!” Thorin gestured excitedly—perhaps a tad too excitedly for a Dwarf of his stature—towards Mirkwood, where a long line of waggons started emerging from the forest. “They will be here soon!”

She will be here soon. 

Over a year passed since the last time he held her in his arms, since he braided the silky dark waves of her hair, and since he looked into the brilliant, wise eyes of the woman he loved. To him, it felt like an eternity, and in that very moment, as he hurried down the stairs that led towards the Great Gate, he made a solemn promise to himself.

When the caravan arrived, most of the Dwarves were already gathered outside of the mountain. The guards held their heads high, presenting their weapons in an honorary salute, not leaving their posts, but even they cast curious glances at the newly arrived, trying to find familiar faces in the crowd. Thorin smirked at his thoughts. They looked as impatient as their king.

He knew the protocol of such meetings like the back of his hand, requiring him to stand by the gate, look regally, and welcome the newcomers to their new—old—home. His resolve wavered, however, when he saw a familiar figure clad in a green, fur-lined gown getting down a waggon, helped by one of the guardsmen. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Without thinking, he took a step forward, and then stopped, recalling who he was and what he was expected to do. He was also not allowed to leave his post, just like his guards. Instead, he observed from a distance, admiring the way the waves of her hair fell down her shoulders as she looked around, perhaps slightly disoriented, taking in the surroundings. Thorin saw the exact moments when her gaze rested on the mossy stone shaped by his ancestors into statues of warrior kings. Then her gaze moved down, focusing on the green marble of the Great Gate. Her eyes widened, her lips formed an “O” and then moved, she spoke something, but her words were lost in all the commotion. In that very moment, she reminded him of that bright-eyed maiden he had met for the first time in a mountain meadow half a world away; the maiden who laughed at his abysmal jokes, who fit so well in his arms when they danced, and who accepted his awkward courting efforts. The time that passed between then and now did not take away her ability to wonder and enjoy the world around her. She endured so many hardships on the way from the Blue Mountains to Erebor, so many cold nights on the road, faced so many dangers, and yet she never wavered in her decision to leave the Blue Mountains behind to be with him and their people. Now, she was finally here and, at last, he felt complete. Being able to see his own kingdom—their kingdom—through her eyes, and to see how amazed she was at the view, was a reward on its own. 

Thorin could not stop himself from smiling when her eyes finally met his. 

“Welcome home, my…” he began signing in iglishmêk, in that discreet way they often did on official occasions when the eyes of many would rest on them.

A light flush bloomed on her cheeks, she responded with a smile, and began walking towards him, oblivious of her escort and the joyous crowd around her, forgetting about the protocol, moving faster and faster, a giggle escaping her lips, her braids danced in the wind, her cloak flowed behind her, and…

“Thorin!” she called him in that melodious voice of hers, and there were diamonds in her eyes, or perhaps it was only his vision that suddenly turned very blurry, and he opened her arms, and thought “the Abyss take the protocol!”, and he rushed towards her, ignoring Balin clearing his throat in embarrassment, because she was finally here, and he had waited long enough—and they finally met halfway.

He wrapped his arms around her and felt her pressing into him, and there was laughter, and more tears in their eyes, the diamonds of happiness, those most precious among gems, and he was finally able to finish that sentence.

“Welcome home, my wife,” he rasped out, pressing his forehead against her, breathing in her familiar flowery scent, the one he adored so much. This was her, finally her, in his arms, and only she mattered in this very moment, not the crowd cheering around them, witnessing this moment of tenderness between their ruling couple, not even his kingdom, nor the world around them—now, it was only her.

“I missed you, my love,” she murmured, holding tight onto him, as if she wanted to make sure he would not disappear, and a wave of warmth washed over him. “I can’t believe I’m finally here, with you, after all those months…”

“Neither can I,” he agreed, cupping her cheek tenderly and eliciting a small sigh from her. “It was much too long, Lukhdelê.”

“Aye, it was,” she nodded, her eyes searching his face, as if learning it anew.

“I made a promise to myself,” Thorin continued. “Never again.”

“Oh?” she tilted her head in that alluring way of hers, and he had to suppress the improper urge to kiss her passionately in front of his people.

“Never again shall we part for so long. I crave you by my side, my heart,” he stated, bringing her hand to his lips.

“Then I will be looking forward to you upholding the promise,” she graced him with a teasing smile that made his blood run faster. “We have been apart indeed for too long, and so were our people. I believe it is time for us to work on improving their morale, would you not agree, my king?”

“Your wish is my command, my queen,” he agreed and took her in his arms again, and then their lips met. Sweetness intermingled with warmth, tenderness fueled the fire inside them, and he cared not that they stood in front of the gate in the sight of many.

After all, who cares about protocol when you have to properly welcome your wife home?

💙💙💙 Read it? Like it? Spread the love and reblog it! 💙💙💙

📜 Searching for more stories to read? Check out my masterlist!📜

Do you like my writing? Would you like to read more? Feel free to show your support by having a Ko-fi with me! Thank you 💙

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed): @fizzyxcustard @shrimpsthings​ @dark-angel-is-back @sherala007 @anyaspidergirl-blog @jotink78 @rachel1959 @saltwater-in-the-afternoon @linasofia @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @legolasbadass @yourqueenunderthemountain @reblogunderthemountain @guardianofrivendell @elrawienthewhite @xmly-xo @mrsdurin @nelleedraws @beenovel @vee-vee-writes @mcchiberry  @dumbassunderthemountain @errruvande @laurfilijames @emrfangirl @s0ftd3m0n @lilith15000 @kami-chan1512  @ragsweas @enchantzz @aduialel @myselfandfantasy @thewhiteladyofrohan @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @blairsanne @fckmini @clumsy-wonderland @wormsmith @mailinsblogofstuff  @medusas-hairband @xxbyimm @knittastically @saucyminxbrainspill @quiall321 @frosticenow @glassgulls

[luveline]

hi hello!! I want to say I absolutely adore and love your writing and have for a few years now! I have a steve request (could fit with kbd or not!) (also so self indulgent lol) where reader grew up with a very emotionally distant father and was determined to make her own family so different than the one she grew up with, and sees steve be so kind and loving towards their children and is so happy her kids won’t feel how she does with her own father and thanks him for being wonderful 🫶🏽 sorry so long and personal but i know you would write this so beautifully!!

thank u for requesting! dad!steve x mom!reader, 1.4k

“What do you want to get your sister for her birthday?” 

You can barely hear his whispering, let alone Avery’s response. “We want…” she’s lisping and listing, unfamiliar with her own voice even as her vocabulary grows, “to get her… um, a big teddy bear.” 

“How big?” Steve whispers back. 

You hold Bethie’s face above your shoulder, your arm around her, the other patting the base of her spine. She’s getting heavy, but she’s only little. She can barely speak, only mumble nonsense into your neck as she fights sleep. “Shh, shh,” you shush her gently. “It’s okay, Bethie.” 

Across the landing, Avery and Steve lay on their stomachs in her room. There’s a pad of paper between them and crayons spilled rainbow across the carpet. Steve draws without looking up; he’s a brilliant artist even now he doesn’t have time for it. Avery chokes a purple crayon with each of her fingers and draws a huge jagged line under his work. “What’s that?” he asks. 

“Lightning. I think we should get her a big teddy, like, big as your hands.” 

“That’s not big in terms of teddy bear, honey.” 

“Oh.” 

“What’s the lightning for?” 

“The cloud.” 

“You want me to draw some puddles?” 

She thinks Steve being able to draw things near immediately is as magical as the television, and the radio. Something seemingly out of nothing. She doesn’t understand how often he’d practise, didn’t see his box of sketchbooks, the hundreds of iterations of your face, your hands, the trees lining the street on the way to your first apartment, her baby wrinkles. 

“What else should we get for Beth?” 

“Um.” Avery pauses, lifting her face to Steve’s. An odd feeling swells when he immediately looks up from the paper pad to meet her eyes. He smiles at her. She smiles back. “Why are we smiling?” she asks eventually. 

“I’m just looking at you. You know you’re beautiful.” 

“I don’t know!” she says, immediately flustered. 

“Yes, you do. You’re sooo pretty, like mommy.” He reaches over to chuck her chin gently with his knuckle. “That’s why I’m smiling. Looking at you makes me happy.” 

“Looking at you makes me happy.” 

His chin tucks in gently. “It’s ‘cos we love each other.” 

“Yes,” Avery says, like she’d suggested it herself. “That’s what it is.” 

You feel Beth fall asleep though you can’t see her. She curls into you all warm and soft, her pyjamas and her hair tickling you, her soft snores damp against your shoulder. You press a kiss to her arm.

Laid to bed for the night, you dot another kiss onto Beth’s smooth forehead and turn out her light, shutting the door carefully so as not to make any noise. 

Avery and Steve are still on the floor, though she’s climbed over the pad to hug him. They look funny, both on their tummies, Steve’s long legs out. He’s sort of curling around her, his nose to the side of her neck, his one arm up on an elbow and the other behind her back. 

“I love you too,” he’s saying. 

“A lot.”

“Yeah, Avery. So much they don’t have a word for it.” 

“It’s a big feeling.” 

“Love is the biggest feeling.” 

She laughs as he starts to tip onto his side. One moment she’s on her belly and the next he’s pulled her onto his chest, totally corkscrewed her and then put her right. “Let’s stay here forever,” he says. 

You’re pretty sure your father would’ve had a heart attack rather than confess he liked you. It’s a weird thing to know you’re loved —to be told you’re loved without being told, to expect it because you should— but to feel the absence of it more strongly. Your father never would’ve laid down with you like that. He wouldn’t have kissed you behind the ear, or talked about big feelings without hesitation. He never looked after you like that. 

“Your back will hurt.”

“Avery, my back always hurts.” 

“Not good. You can go to the hospital.” 

“I don’t think I��ll go to hospital, I’ll,” —he feels you watching, and smiles at you as he tips his head to see you— “be okay without that. Maybe I’ll go to the doctor at his office instead.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” He rubs her back. “Thanks, honey.”

Later, after you’ve knelt down to draw with them for a while and Avery’s succumbed to the childhood pain of feeling sleepy, you’re sliding clean towels onto a shelf in the linen closet with Steve beside you choosing new sheets for the next two (or four depending on how busy things get) weeks. It’s not work that needs talking, and after a few years together you start to run out of things to say, but you decide you’ll fill it anyway. 

“Thanks.” 

“For what?” 

“You’re a good dad.”

Steve kisses your cheek, squeezing your arm as he bundles the new linens to his chest and passes back out of the closet. You follow him out. 

“Hey, I mean it,” you say. 

Steve looks at you in surprise. “Oh, sorry. That’s the miscommunication thing, right? I was supposed to say something, not just kiss you.” 

“No, I don’t need you to acknowledge me, Steve.” You laugh softly, “Just need you to know. You’re such a good dad. It means a lot to me that you’re so good because I know they can feel it. The girls.” You clear your throat. 

You hadn’t been expecting to get teary. Heat burns behind your eyes unbidden. 

Steve’s eyebrows jump. “You’re upset?” 

“It’s such a relief to know you’re you.” 

And Steve must understand how you feel about it, his parents stunningly absent for the majority of his teen years and even now. You don’t see them much, but when you do you’re greeted with handshakes and strange looks, like this is a blip in both of your lives. Like somehow your children will grow themselves and Steve can be the man they wanted him to be. He knows what it’s like to be alone and not enough. To miss the mark. To physically feel the space between you and the person who should love you most. 

He puts the linens on the end of the bed before standing in front of you. Your cheek is warm in his hand when he gives it a brief squeeze, your shoulder less so, your hand similarly cold. He threads your fingers together for a playful yank. “What are you thinking about?” he asks seriously. 

“Avery’s never gonna question if you love her.” 

He shakes his head. “Nope.” 

“You’re very emotionally mature.” 

“Wouldn’t say that.” 

“Me neither.” 

He looks tired tonight, hair falling into his eyes, t-shirt ill-fitting, rumpled at the hem, and his voice slightly scratchy as he murmurs, “Loving you makes me who I am, maybe you should be thanking yourself.” His lips twitch. “I should’ve said that at our wedding.” 

“You should’ve, I bet your mom would’ve cried.” 

“I doubt it.” 

He opens his arms invitingly, and you fall into one another for a quick, tight hug. You’d been expecting a longer embrace with a sweeter touch, but you know why he’s doing it this way: he doesn’t want to cry before bed, and the wound of your absent parents is a weary one. It’s taken too much time and energy from you both already. 

“Love you,” he says. 

You weasel your head back to take him in, savouring the stretch of his hands behind your shoulders and his genuine smile. “Biggest feeling in the world,” you say. 

“Liked that one?” he asks, encouraging your face back into his neck. “You gave me a family,” he adds, quieter, “I don’t really get how there are parents walking around who aren’t obsessed with their kids. I love them so much I can’t breathe sometimes. All i want is to make sure they know that… I was looking at Avery earlier and I couldn’t believe she was mine.”

“Steve.” 

“I think she has my two moles on her cheek. That’s crazy.” 

“What?” 

You and Steve creep into her bedroom to investigate. Sleeping, she’s his carbon copy, and sure enough, on her right cheek just adjacent to her lips, she has two small moles just like him. 

[spacedace]

Reluctant War AU Part 2

Part One

...I ended up writing more for that Reluctant War AU...Like. Wrote this before work and started on part 3 with plans for part 4 more.

this was supposed to just be a brain worm what happened (also thank you @catastrophic-crow for the AU name <3 <3 <3 Also, also: welcome to the cult of Ancient of the Speedforce Elle! Membership includes nonsense, shenanigans and chaos haha)

-

Gotham had always been a place for ghosts.

Every corner haunted by death and tragedy.

Every street stained red at least once in its many years.

Every dark shadow holding the faint shadows and shades of the dead.

Gotham was, before all else, a grave yard.

Jason had known that his entire life. Every kid born and raised in the Alley did. Death came fast to Gotham’s streets. Especially for those the rest of the city turned its back on. He did his best to lighten the reaper’s load when it came to the people that called Crime Alley home. Well, mostly. He’d certainly added names to old Death’s list before, when the occasion called.

When the armies of the dead descended upon Gotham, the only surprise Jason could feel was that those white wearing pieces of shit had dared to try and hunker down in his city.

It was a sentiment shared by most of Gotham’s fine citizens. By the city itself - herself? Something to ask later, if there was a later - even if the impossible, living shadow that rose up out of Gotham’s many dark corners was anything to go by. He knew, almost instinctively, that the entity - skin of cracked pavement, mouth a bridge suspended too wide across the face, eyes of CCTV camera lenses and body built brick by grimy, bloody brick of the sharp skyline - was Gotham. Not a ghost but something bigger, greater. Something awfully, terribly alive in all its horrible, noble glory. His city, manifest in the shape almost human beneath the green glow of the torn apart sky above.

Phantom’s armies arrived without warning as they had everywhere else, and their enemies poured out in unforgivably unmarred white suits to meet them. Horrible and garish against the Gotham streets. How they’d ever managed to slink by unnoticed while being so blatantly, clearly not of Gotham Jason wasn’t sure he’d ever know.

If either side thought this would be like the battles they fought before, they were mistaken.

Gotham was a place for Ghosts.

A place the dead piled up, lingered well beyond their deaths. A place where the rules were different from everywhere else in the world. Where crime was rampant and chaos reigned but at the end of the day people said their thanks that they were born to this hellhole and not so cursed to call anywhere else in the world home.

The dead came to fight

And Gotham, a thing so alive it was sickening to look upon, rose up to fight right along side them all.

The agents were ready and prepared for the incursion of the dead. It’d been two weeks since the first volley of attacks. Two weeks spent shoring up defenses and ramping up weapons and strategizing ways to kill what was already dead. They were, as best as they were able to be considering how endless the armies that came for them, prepared.

They weren’t prepared for Gotham.

Weren’t prepared for the city itself to rise up and take spectral, eldritch shape. Jagged building spire and shattered glass teeth bared in a snarl that spanned miles. Screaming rage in a voice made of gunfire and the concussive boom of explosions and the shrieks of a furious crowd.

Weren’t prepared for its people to ignore the gentle ushering of the dead trying to push them away to safety and instead press forward to fight shoulder to shoulder with the ghostly armies.

Weren’t prepared to have brick and bottles and trash and debris rain down upon them from the jeering living. Weren’t prepared for dirty faced children with hard eyes to light up rags stuffed into chipped beer bottles filled with gas and kerosene and throw them with more speed an accuracy than any professional baseball player. Weren’t ready for Gotham’s motley crew of terrifying Rogues to band together with the citizens they so often accosted and worried and bring down wave after wave of chaos and Goons.

Weren’t prepared for Red Hood to swap out his rubber bullets for the real deal and start mowing the fuckers in white down, his own crew at his back, the rest of the Outlaws on their way.

The Justice League was trying to find a peaceful resolution. Trying to play go between to the US Government and the infinite dead. Too wound up in US politics to side with the dead outright, too disgusted by what the American government had done to ever want to stand with them. All it had gotten them was spun wheels and confusion and the slow creeping realization that the time to try and play negotiators had well passed.

Red Hood wasn’t a member of the Justice League.

He had no obligation to try and find a way to talk things out.

What he had was a grave he’d dug his way out of, enough ammunition to arm a sizable country, and a burning need to make things right.

Gotham had always been a place for ghosts, and Jason had long accepted that he was one of them.

Haunting the streets he’d survived as a child, the city he protected as Robin, the family he’d loved and lost a thousand and one times before and after his death.

The sky cracked open above his home, and it was not an invading army that came rushing out but a native one. Friends, neighbors, strangers on the street you caught from the corner of your eye. The people of Gotham knew their own and fought for them. Only Gotham was allowed to fucked with Gotham and they’d been screwed over enough by the government themselves to know what side they were on.

He lifted his guns and fired, teeth bared in vicious satisfaction beneath his helmet as white was splattered bright red.

A hissing electric whine of a weapon, a flash of green from the edge of his vision.

“Down!”

He was thrown bodily to the cracked and ruined street beneath him, the body shielding him warm and living as one of the agent’s weapon fired a blast of energy right where he’d been a second before. He’d seen that same weapon reduce one of the raging dead to dripping green and screams of agony the dead should not be capable of making.

Before he could shove himself up and respond in kind, the body above him was in motion and the air above him cracking with the snapping-popping-roar of a gun of a much higher power than even what he had. The fucker in white that had shot at him dissolved into a mist of red viscera, body seizing and shuttering in the briefest moment it had before it was obliterated completely.

“Watch yourself.” He looked up - and up - and wondered at the lovely, fierce face he found staring down at him. “Even without shooting at them you’re Liminal enough to trip their sensors.”

She was tall enough to be an amazon, six inches in height on him at least. Body strong beneath the pitch black armor she work - as deep and dark as the depths of space, etched with starlight, a familiar crest upon her chest in the dizzying burst of a supernova - she held herself with confidence. Strands of hair the color of a warning sunrise escaped out from beneath the helm she wore, bright against her pale skin, warming the glass-sharp teal eyes that had pinned him in place.

The hand not holding the gun she’d just used to delete the asshole that had just tried to shoot him - a strange, impossible thing that made him taste lightning at the back of his throat to look at it - stretched out to help him up.

He accepted it.

Something pulsed to life in his chest. A piece forgotten where it’d been left behind, half buried in grave dirt and broken pieces of a casket he’d clawed his way out of. It burned like a hot coal in his chest, froze him with the same aching cold of a blizzard, crackled his nerves to life with lightning even as his brain popped and fried with the same sizzling energy.

On his feet, hair on end and body and Core pulsing with the need to fight, to rend and tear and scream for all done to him, his people, his home, he met the eyes of the woman before him. Her cool gaze softened, just a moment, just a second as she seemed to realize what had happened. Her hand, lighter than the armor she wore should allow it to be, tightened on his just a moment, mouth tilting from determined frown to soft understanding.

Gotham had always been a place for ghosts.

Jason had long accepted that he was one of them.

---

Part Three

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

For the Crewel event, how about Ortho taking his Cerberus robot puppies to NRC and showing them to Crewel?

If he doesn't scare you, no evil thing will.

“You keep dogs as companion animals, Crewel-sensei? My family has dogs too!”

Upon learning that, Crewel’s interest had been piqued. The spike in heart rate, the dilation of his pupils—there was no mistaking it. Every one of Ortho’s vital sign readings had indicated the same excited response.

And that was why, on exactly 7 on the dot Monday morning, he barreled into Crewel’s classroom with a cheery shout.

Ortho’s face was framed in a helmet with pointed ears, only his mouth and its jagged teeth visible. He had traded his College Gear for a more spindly form with pointed shoulders and nails. The boy was every bit as sleek as a bloodhound on the hunt.

Ortho was followed by two cybernetic canines, each wearing a spoked collar. The dogs were as black as night, their numerous markings lighting up in neon blue as they prowled, sniffing out their surroundings. They curiously circled Crewel’s desk, noses to the ground.

He arched a brow, but did not protest. “These are…”

"Meet CB-RS01 and CB-RS02!" Ortho chirped, lowering his altitude to meet Crewel in the eyes. “I guess they’d be something like our family’s ‘guard dogs’!”

“Shroud, you brought your pets on campus?”

“I thought you’d be interested in meeting them.”

His teacher’s expression darkened. “… Where.”

Ortho inclined his head in confusion. “Where…?”

“Where do they like to be pet?” Crewel asked with grave seriousness.

“Oh, I’ve never thought of that. They have sensors all over their bodies for surveillance, tracking, combat, and data collection. Among the multitude of functions CB-RS01 and 02 can perform, I don’t think cuddling is one.”

“Nonsense!” Crewel haughtily insisted. “All animals are deserving of affection.”

“Hmm…” Ortho hesitated. “Well, it should be find to touch them on the head. They won’t be aggressive if you show them you mean no harm.”

“So it shall be.” Crewel extended a hand to the robotic dogs, coaxing them with curled fingers. “Come here.”

CB-RS01 and 02 stood at attention at the unfamiliar call, both cautiously surveying the strange man before them. 02 emitted a hum that sounded like a growl. 01 took the initiative to step forward and sniffed Crewel’s open palm.

“Do you smell the treats on me? I fed them to my own boys back home before coming to work today. I would offer you treats if I had them—and if you take them.” He slowly placed his hand on 01’s head. Both dogs tensed. “For now, this is all I can grant you.”

Crewel gave 01 a good stroke. It was warm metal, slick and paved with complex ridges. 01 planted its bottom on the floor, letting out a low sound akin to a satisfied grunt. Its tail happily bounced up and down.

02 padded up. It watched Crewel for a few moments more until it gently butted against his arm, almost as if demanding a pat too. He laughed, using his other hand.

Pretty soon, both dogs were cozied up to him.

“There, there,” Crewel crooned, sweet and smooth as honey. “You’re good boys, aren’t you? Yes you are. Very good boys indeed!”

“Wah, Crewel-sensei!” Ortho gasped. “You instantly tamed them…! You’re a natural.”

“Nothing to it. You just have to open your heart to them and the animals will respond to that.”

“I see, so that’s how it works…? Either way, this is fascinating data. I’ll have to log it and report on this new behavior.“

A blue holographic screen blipped into existence. Ortho set to punching in numbers and symbols, all business. When he glanced up from the edge of his screen, the shutters on his eyes—eyelids, humans would call them—fluttered, snapping several shots of Crewel doting on the dogs.

The images were processed and immediately stored in his memory banks, labelled with the correct tags. Divus Crewel, CB-RS01 and 02, and their unadulterated joy. A love that pure…

Ortho’s core shuddered and sighed.

… is capable of changing the world.

[justblades]

⌕ INSATIABLE HUNGER, 18+

⟢ DAY 2 OF SPECIAL 2K EVENT — where in they basically use you to please themselves

⟢ CHARACTERS : gepard, welt & jing yuan x gender neutral! reader

⟢ WARNINGS : EXPLICIT, MDNI. not proofread.

GEPARD LANDAU

being a silvermane captain is a role not everyone can live up to - to be rid of greed, irrationality and trivial feelings is a masterpiece in its own that gepard landau undoubtedly attained. he always lives up to his name, a solid foundation the belobog citizens can rely on.

naturally, it gets tiring having to be resilient at all times. although he may not act like it's eating his resolve bit by bit the more his stress and fatigue piled up, he heard an unsolicited advice from one of his men. the advice wasn't aimed at him, it was just a conversation he accidentally eavesdropped in. they were two regular soldiers resting for a moment, blabbering about the most nonsensical things.

"have you heard? there's numerous glory holes at the bar recently built in the deepest alley of the administrative district!" one says and the other cackles, "glory holes? like where you put it in and get stimulated in return?" those sentences are all gepard could remember. he attempted his best at being undercover and not give away his identity as he slowly descends further into the back alley.

he thought it was something absurd, not until the blond slips his dick into the hole - his very own girth being encompassed with tightening walls. gepard's breathing becomes jagged, his strong hands tightly clasped on the wall separating him and the incognito glory hole. his brows furrow once he feels the 'glory hole' move, pushing in and out of his dick, already making such sloppy noises.

flushed pink tint brushes from ear to ear the longer he was pleasured in this eccentric setup. the male profusely sweats as climaxing feelings rush onto the throbbing crown of his dick. unintentionally, "i-i'm so . . clo—" slips out of gepard's lush lips and only felt his flames of desire fueled the moment he got to hear the person from the other side answer, "go ahead, cum inside me." the approval seals the deal, he bucks his hips forward with such a powerful thrust, filling your hole with his shape and seed. it was immensely gratifying to be filled up - you couldn't help but chime in, "come again soon . ." gepard only fixes his clothing, still embarrassed having to resort to this but he was already reconsidering.

WELT YANG

the old man happened to be roped in a series of bizarre situations, a scenario he must play along with in order to unravel the secrets of a particular world the astral express happened to stop by. unfortunately, the person welt must scrutinize was someone lecherous, reaching to the point where he pulled the old man to a particular bathroom stall which granted him a face painted of confusion from the brunet's features.

his wrinkles become more prominent at how his brows knit, "what are we to do exactly here, mister?" welt's voice pierces through the thick tension sitting in the air, fixing his black rimmed glasses with his index. "see that partition over there, mr. yang? go there and you'll know what's next." the person replies with a shit eating grin at the end. welt heaves a deep, blue sigh - following suit, just to play along.

not until a particular sight graces his vision, tongue sticking out of a hole, waiting for a visitor to lap in. he looks back and could see that he was still being watched, there is no other choice. with a swift movement, he brings all of his clothing down and slightly tap his erection on the surface, the saliva meeting with his cock's veins was warm, tracing goosebumps all over his skin.

how long has it been exactly? he didn't want to think of that and only spiraled further into pleasure to the point that he rocks his pelvis along with the glory hole's motions, his tip, cock's body and balls being smothered with edible lubricant and saliva all at the same. as the person from the other side of the wall continues to stimulate the old man, more guttural moans bubble from his throat.

"a glory hole . . the name might be misleading for new people . ." the brunet says, accompanied with sloppy noises echoing inside the stall. a question crosses your mind in the midst of the slick blow job you're giving, curious about the male's age as his husky voice and breathy sounded a lower timbre. however, no matter the age— he tasted rather perfect. his cum spills into your throat, a balanced taste of sweet and sour explodes like firecrackers in your tastebuds.

JING YUAN

everyone has secrets, even the luofu general jing yuan himself. whenever he's not on duty which happened a little too frequently— he'd find himself rousing such a lustful act in his own abode. a personal toy he calls whenever he's bored, horny or downright stressed. among those three circumstances, he yearns for his glory hole.

you had no idea you'd be the general's property— after all, it was a shady job offer at the beginning. but what kept your sanity at bay however is the fact that your identity is kept hidden; the payment was more than decent, it estimates up to six digits. it's a job you're happy to have but in contrary, not to boast to narrow minded people.

as you're summoned again by the silver haired, you carefully bend over and made sure the hole is adjacent to your entrance. with one smooth thrust, your hole was intruded by the familiar one, no other than jing yuan's. you clap a hand at your mouth from how a moan tried to escape out, but the more the sex prolonged, the more inevitable it was for you.

jing yuan huffs and exerts more power to his cock, basically jackhammering into your walls. he was long, thick and hot, from one stroke along he had you whimpering under his power, moreso follows are feelings of admiration for the general. "you're not permitted to speak, i know." his abrupt sentence catches you rather off guard.

"but you can let those moans out once in a while . ." the male proclaims, proceeding to quicken his pace with intentions of garnering more lewd sounds coming out of your mouth. you willfully oblige and let it all out, your noises of arousal and satisfaction chime into jing yuan's ears as if you were playing a sweet, melodic tune. "very good." he says, immediately feeling like cumming despite the session starting just five minutes in.

my masterlist !

[persephone-writes]

A Diviner's Guide to James Potter

Chapter Two: The Heart Wants What it Wants

James Potter x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Chapter One - Chapter Three ☆ Series Masterlist

Description: answers are few and far between, Sirius is in the trenches, and the Gryffindor quidditch team receives some good news

Word Count: 5.5k

You were never able to get much sleep, tossing and turning into the early hours of the morning. Just when you began to doze off, it seemed as though your mind forced you to remember the red and purple fish. Your half-sleeping imagination replayed the drop in your stomach when you finally discerned its meaning through the help of three separate books, and the confusion over the seemingly ambivalent fate which awaited you. While Lily did point out that Divination wasn’t a perfect science, you found that it always came true in one form or another. It would be possible to accept her suggestion if not for the aching feeling that had been building in your chest since midnight. 

As it started to grow light, you decided to give up on sleep. A pink and purple sunrise shown through your dormitory windows, the muntins breaking up the rays into little diamonds across the wooden floors. You dressed as quietly as you could, throwing on something halfway decent so you could go down to the Common Room and attempt to do something productive. You hauled with you your three Divination books, as well as your existing notes, setting them on one of the small tables. The fire was nearly out, only dimming embers remaining, so you threw on a few more logs. The howl of the wind blowing outside the tower whipped past the castle walls, skirting along the edges of the jagged stone. 

You opened up the large purple book, Crundlesmuck’s Lessons in Animal Divination , and flipped to the chapter on Ichthyomancy. Sifting through the pages, you tried to come across the passage you had read a thousand times over already, hoping that one more reading would provide further insight. You took a deep breath once you came upon it, preparing yourself for disappointment. 

“As the great Diviner Simon Bonk once professed, ‘...the lone fish may be like the wandering child in search of its mother, or, the snarling wolf in search of its next meal.’ Though Mr. Bonk is correct in his dual interpretation of the lone fish, one must not rely solely on numbers, but also colour, texture, smell, personality, aura, and accompaniment in order to truly make an accurate prediction. While the lone fish may very well represent the search for companionship, or the loss of it, if its colour is red or pink, the fortune could be of a romantic nature. However, if the lone red or pink fish was swimming south, the direction of the past, one may very well predict the subject of the future to run into a long lost sweetheart. Due north, however, may indicate the lone red fish's connections to a greater enemy, or the search for revenge which will soon be met. This would not be true if the fish were pink, of course, for such strong emotions are usually represented by the most saturated of colours. Further, if its scales reach the sunlight, reflecting into the viewer's eyes, this indicates a far more subdued outcome, or one which may come in the very near future. As you can see, a true diviner must combine all the necessary attributes in order to accurately use Ichthyomancy in their practice.”

“Merlin's beard,” you muttered to yourself, a hand coming to rub at your temples. It was all utterly nonsensical, at least to you. The chart on the side was no help, either. 

Red- Strong emotions such as love, hatred, anger, infatuation, resentment, etc., may include jealousy if paired with orange and blue. 

Pink- Lesser forms of love and other emotions, less influential than red.

Orange- Happiness and good fortune, strictly positive change.

Yellow- Confusion, frustration, a lack of knowledge.

Green- Jealousy, envy, greed, may indicate success in endeavors purposefully made or unintentional.  

Blue- Tranquility (though not necessarily without change), friendship, can indicate the natural world.

Purple- Power, tends to aid in the strength of other omens. 

Black- Death, change, dramatic shifts either positive or negative.

White- Purity, lack of change, consistency either positive, negative, or neutral, or its inverse in numbers of the double digits.

While you initially thought that the white fish had overridden the effects of the red and purple one, a whole school of them pointed more towards chaos than anything. No, you and Lily were correct; it was an awful omen indeed. Still, you closed Crundlesmuck’s Lessons in Animal Divination and opened another, hoping that someone could provide a more positive outlook on your situation. 

“White’s ability to have an opposite meaning should not be disregarded when analyzing omens, particularly when white appears nearby…” —The Unabridged Diary of the Late Seer Humphrey Holbert Sherbert Monty Jr., page 294

Surely, your third book could provide some answers. 

“...as Diviner Daisy Kettlebum professed one evening in her study in the spring of 1814, ‘red and purple may be one of the rarest pairings, yet the most powerful of them all’...We can see that the pairings of colours are most often more accurate indicators of fortune than the observation of a single colour.” —Colour Me Prophecy: A Witches and Wizards Guide to Colour in the Natural World, page 673

You wanted to rip your hair out, and you almost did until the portrait hole swung open. You checked the time, the clock on the wall reading five fifty-six. Students were not permitted outside the Common Room for another four minutes, although that seemed to not be an issue, for the portrait soon closed without a student emerging from it. Your eyes flashed towards your notes for a quick moment, catching your scribbled words: school of white + red and purple = bad! Your mind ran over a hundred scenarios of strange occurrences and awful happenings. Was the fruition of your omen about to ensue, a phantom which somehow got word of this week's password: Inepta Mustela?

You stood from your chair with a deep, shivering breath, walking around the table with careful steps. Nearing the portrait hole, hands slightly shaking, you craned your head around the corner. Without warning, James and Remus appeared suddenly from beneath the invisibility cloak, breaking out into a fit of unrestrained laughter. You gasped, clutching at your chest before catching up with the shock. You waited for them to stop their incessant giggling with your hands on your hips. 

“You gave me a heart attack!” you scolded, voice in a whisper. Neither took your same precautions, their volume rather loud for six in the morning. James wiped a tear from his eye as their laughter died down. Finally taking in their appearance, you saw that Remus was still wearing his pajama bottoms and a jumper, though James had the sense to at least throw on a pair of jeans. “What were you both doing out anyway? I thought you two were all buttoned up now, a Prefect and Head Boy.” You motioned to them, but Remus just rolled his eyes. 

“It was nothing too bad,” he said, dismissing your concerns. He threw himself down on the sofa, stretching his long legs out by the fire. You crossed your arms, staring at James with a disapproving press of your lips. He still had a smirk on his face and a blush across his cheeks from laughing. His expression practically forced you to smile. You shoved him as you walked back to your table. 

“What are you doing up?” James asked, taking a seat beside Remus. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” was all you said. 

James peered behind the couch at you, watching as you closed your books and piled up your work into a stack. “Is that for Divination?”

You glanced up, nearly smiling again at his head contorted in such a funny manner, tipped up and to the side. Remembering you hadn’t even looked in the mirror before you can down here, you hoped you didn’t appear too ghastly. You nodded at his question, taking the books into your arms and lugging them over to the area by the fireplace.  

“Yeah,” you finally answered, dropping them to the floor and sitting in one of the armchairs. “Figured I’d be productive rather than just tossing around till breakfast. I think I'm going to need more than three books, though.”

“We were productive as well,” James said with a grin.  

You raised your eyebrows. “Oh, yeah?”

"Mhm,” Remus answered, tight-lipped. “Got an early morning snack from the kitchens.”

“Breakfasts only in an hour and a half, you couldn’t wait?” You chuckled as Remus shook his head rather forcefully, playing with the sleeves of his jumper. 

“The heart wants what it wants.”

You left Remus and James to start getting ready for breakfast, knowing that Lily would be up by now. Thankfully, she never asked any questions when you came back into the dormitory carrying your stack of books, clearly having been up for quite some time. Dorcas was snoring from within the thin confines of her four-poster. Like most nights, she’d forgotten to cast a silencing charm. She’d blame it on simple forgetfulness, you on her sugar-high. 

You were still ill at ease when you walked down to breakfast with Lily, very much looking forward to a cup of tea. Paying attention in class would be a difficult task, your thoughts muddled with an anxiety well beyond repair. If Lily noticed your nerves, she didn’t comment on them, chatting with you about a healing potion she was learning about in Alchemy instead. 

In stark contrast to your own inner turmoil, there was a distinct air of excitement in the Great Hall despite the early hour. At the center of the long table at the head of the room, Dumbledore looked on as he did every morning, twinkling eyes darting beneath his half-moon glasses. A few minutes later, Dorcas, Marlene, and Mary came, the Marauders not far behind. Mary was in the year below you all, and Dorcas had taken a liking to her meek manner, seeming to make her sole purpose in life to get Mary out of her shell. 

James and Remus looked rather tired as they wandered over to their seats. You smiled to yourself as they sat down, James laying his head on the table for a brief moment before he picked it back up again. He noticed you staring and narrowed his eyes, pushing up his glasses by its bridge. You smiled, shaking your head before returning your attention back to Dorcas. 

“Fueling up already?” you said, watching her take a bite of an apple turnover. 

She nodded, washing it down with some tea and swallowing with a single, large gulp. “I’ve got to be on my game for tomorrow. Can’t be letting those Hufflepuffs think we’re slacking.”

Hufflepuff won the quidditch House Cup last year and the entire Gryffindor team was committed to not letting it happen again. James in particular was quite serious about the matter, grabbing up any time on the pitch that he could manage. Monsieur Button, the flying instructor and referee, was growing increasingly tired of James standing outside of his office first thing every Monday morning, when the weekly practice schedules were made up. 

“That's right, Meadows,” said James with the same eagerness. “All you better be thinking about from now until tomorrow morning is the Grumblesnad.”

“Don’t worry, Captain, it’s burned into my brain. I’ll be recalling your flight maneuvers on my deathbed.” 

James shook his head, stabbing his fork into his sausage rather violently. “No one respects their elders anymore.”

“You’re only a week older than me,” Dorcas said with her mouth half full. 

“You can build a lot of wisdom in a week,” Peter laughed. 

“And I’m older than all of you,” Sirius interjected. “So, by all rights, I should be your superior, James. Just going by your own logic.”

“Then we need better logic,” you added, Lily nodding in agreement. 

Through the large door, the daily influx of owls came sailing overhead and dropping off the post. Your owl swooped low, placing a copy of the Daily Prophet directly into your lap. You were undoing the ties when you heard Remus’s solemn voice from down the table. 

“Just wait till we get back from classes,” he said softly to Sirius, who was sitting beside him. 

Sirius’s eyes were cast down towards a letter in his hand. You saw the green wax seal and knew what lay inside. You lamented the fact his parents had to write him the day before a match. His once cheerful face had drooped, his color poor and drained. He let his long hair cover his face, not bothering to brush it back behind his ears. He slipped the letter into his bag and turned back to his friends, who were all motionless where they sat. You looked away as you saw James's expression of tribulation, sensing that watching any longer was an intrusion on a moment not meant for you to be privy to. 

You opened up the paper, reading the title of the front page article, inked in thick, dark letters: DARK MARK SEEN OVER STRING OF MUGGLE MURDERS. 

-✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧-

Sirius’s mood continued throughout Charms. You had a clear view of him across the aisle, his sullen, gray eyes half lidded and distant as they stared out into space. Once in a while, they lifted as something Professor Flitwick said grabbed his attention, though they often unfocused. Periodically, Remus would whisper something to him, or James would give him a gentle nudge with a smile. Sometimes Sirius would respond, though mostly he looked as if he were all alone, ghost-like and listless. 

You gazed out of the large window behind Flitwick, watching the Forbidden Forest sway softly in the breeze. A few evergreens colored the mass of brown boughs and hefty trunks, though most of the brush remained drab. It was a dreary day out, typical for this time of year, but no less disappointing. As your gaze followed the treeline, you wondered what that bloody fish was doing right now. 

You weren’t sure if you were thankful or loathsome for the mid-morning break between classes. Some studying could serve as ample distraction, or just bore you into thinking about Divination. At least you didn’t have that today, leaving all weekend to avoid the subject if you so wished. You walked out of class with Lily, though she had to leave to go to Ancient Runes with Remus and Marlene. The rest of the boys were nowhere to be found, James and Sirius likely off to the quidditch pitch to get some practice in before tomorrow morning. Alone, you weasled through the crowd of students, passing through an array of corridors towards the Astronomy Tower. Usually, it was only open for classes, but being in the Astronomy Club had its perks. You hoped no one would be up there, though it would be strange in February.  The chill would be particularly nipping from high up in the tower, making it a far less appealing choice to hide out in than in autumn or spring. The temperature made no difference to you, however. You just wanted to be alone, and maybe smoke a cigarette or two.  

You sat up against the wall, your red and gold scarf sitting just below your mouth. Your Transfiguration book was opened in your lap, a piece of parchment laying on one of the pages. A cigarette hung from your lips, burned all the way to the filter. You were taking notes on advanced forms of Transfiguration, cursing McGonagall for making you learn how to create an object from thin air by the end of term. Deep in concentration, you nearly missed a single crow fly by the tower a few times before landing on the railing. When it shifted its position, you caught the black blur in your peripheral, eyes coming up to meet it. Black and beady, they stared, unwavering and with an eerily human conviction. You continued to stare, transfixed by its commanding presence against the gray sky. After a few moments it made a single, harsh call before lifting up in flight, swooping down along the tower and out of sight. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

You slammed your book shut, shoving everything in your bag and stomping out of the tower, feet hitting heavy against the steps. You were huffing to yourself, muttering curses at the crow as you continued down the hall. The idea that you were truly going mad crossed your mind as you noticed a few odd glances from other students loitering in the halls. You were well aware many would have already been calling you such if they knew you were putting even a single ounce of belief in Divination. However, it all was beginning to seem undeniable now. Something bad was bound to occur, a twisting pit growing in your stomach as you thought this fact over. You ran through every possibility: death, destruction, war, famine, but it all seemed equally plausible. 

You mindlessly paced, fogged with a thousand contradicting explanations, the web spinning into something far more complicated than you were prepared to handle. Lost in your rumination, you hadn’t noticed you were walking straight into someone until you stumbled backward, nearly falling before an arm caught yours just in time. You looked up to see Sirius standing above you, a small smile beginning to form on his face. 

“A little spacey this morning, I see,” he joked, pulling you back up to standing. You let out a short breath from your nose, straightening out your robes. 

“Yeah, you could say that.” You didn’t intend to sound so snappy, frowning a bit as you saw the look upon his face and remembering what had transpired over breakfast. You considered the fact that he wasn’t at the pitch with James. If anything could clear his head, it’d be a low stakes training session. “I’m sorry, Sirius. I’ve just had a bad day is all.”

“That makes two of us,” he said, glancing down at his shoes for a moment. 

“Yeah,” you began, not knowing if you should bring up what happened over breakfast. You reasoned that you had each known each other for long enough to not have to dance around the issue, at least not anymore. You knew enough about his family and his stay with the Potters to put the pieces together yourself; and you could be sure that he knew that you knew, making the whole mystery of it rather pointless. You licked your lips, unsure how to carry yourself as you spoke, “I saw that you got something from your parents.”

He nodded, eyes as distant as they were in Charms. He had not tensed up or retreated, demeanor very much unchanged. “I still haven’t opened it. I think I’m gonna wait till Sunday.”

“That's a good idea,” you said. “Why let them spoil the whole weekend.”

You wondered why he planned on opening it at all. If it were you, you’d throw it into the Common Room hearth and be done with it. However, you decided not to voice this opinion, feeling it quite out of your place. 

“Knowing them, they did it on purpose. Reg probably told ‘em we had a match or something.” He let out a breathy laugh with little humor behind it. “What’s got you so distracted?”

You sighed, not quite knowing what to say or how much to reveal. “Nothing, just Divination. I’ll get over it.”

“Find out anything more?”

You shook your head. You knew you ought to return the favor; vulnerability for vulnerability, but you didn't want to put it on him right now. Sirius wandered over to the wall, zigzagging around until he leaned against it. With his legs outstretched, his gray uniform pants rose up above his ankles, revealing two different colored socks, white and navy blue. You eyed them with a mild amusement, following him over and leaning against the wall a few paces away. You both stared out of the wavy window glass silently, each stewing in your own unfavorable situations. You found yourself looking towards him, studying his profile that you had seen a million times before. 

You wondered why you didn’t like Sirius but were so absurdly smitten with James. You thought it might be easier to like Sirius, who you knew would agitate you far too much to seriously date. It would be easy to put him on a shelf, to throw the hope away. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

You rolled your eyes to hide your embarrassment, turning away. Now he was the one staring at you, his gaze dragging across your cheek. 

“I’m sorry, Sirius,” you said, voice quiet. You didn’t see his brows knit or his eyes grow soft, continuing on with your apology, “I know I’m not what you need right now. I feel silly moping about because of Divinations of all things.”

“It’s all right,” he began, kicking off the wall to face you. “If it’s any consolation, I think the whole things rubbish. Who cares what color the fish are?”

“It’s how many, too,” you said between a faint laugh.

He was standing a ways in front of you now, shifting his weight between his feet. “It’s all random. No need to worry yourself into a fit over it.”

Your face was blank, nodding without really believing him. He walked backwards a few steps, hands stuffed into the pockets of his robe. 

“I’ll see you later, hot stuff,” he said, spinning around to walk properly. “And don’t use that head of yours too much!” 

You watched him go, not saying anything in return. You felt awful for him right now, far more so than you did for yourself. While you disagreed with him on the legitimacy of Divination, he was right about one thing: it was silly to worry this much about a project for class. You were forgetting one of the biggest aspects of Divination, that the future can always change. A prophecy is one thing, but you were no Seer. Simply reading a fortune through any means wasn’t enough to solidify a specific outcome. You had time to change the direction of the future, the only problem being you didn’t have the slightest idea what to change. 

It wasn’t like when Professor Quattlebaum told you that you’d get soaking wet by the end of the day in fourth year. Then, you had just brought an umbrella with you. However, now that you got to thinking of it, your efforts then had been in vain. All day you had carried it with you, pleased when you and Lily were shielded from a surprise rain shower halfway through your walk about the grounds. Only, as you each headed back inside the castle, umbrella lowered, a duel between two seventh years broke out in the corridor. One had cast Aguamenti at his opponent, missing him entirely and soaking you to the bone. At least the arsehole got detention for it. You had trudged back to the Common Room, robes dripping and heavy, debating if you should go back to Quattlebaum’s office and give him a piece of your mind. 

-✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧-

You were walking to the Great Hall with Peter for lunch, each just having left from History of Magic. Like Divination, only you and he were still taking the class. Unfortunately, Peter was not as enthusiastic about the subject as you were. You and he were packed like sardines in the hallways, breaking through the bottleneck just as James, without warning, came bounding up behind you. He practically ran into your back before stepping in stride to your left. He buzzed as if a gleeful charge was running through him from his toes to the tip of his nose. The three of you stopped walking, forcing a few grumbling students to move past your huddle. 

“You’re chipper,” you commented, laughing as he shrugged. He was always hyper, but this was a bit extreme even for him. Lily, Remus, and Marlene soon caught up to you, their faces all bearing the same sly grin. You gave him an odd glance, looking between him and the others. 

“Excited for the match?” asked Peter. James shrugged again, a smile still on his face.

“That's part of it,” he said, bouncing a bit on his toes. Lily shook her head at him.

“Come on,” you begged the others. “What?”

“Daniel told me he heard from Caelum Waterson, who's a fifth year Hufflepuff, that Corey Luxfire’s in the Hospital Wing with a wicked spout of dragon pox,” James explained excitedly. Corey Luxfire was the best beater on the Hufflepuff team and the likeliest reason Gryffindor would have to lose. He was also a rather talented painter, head of the Hufflepuff Art Club.

“That's excellent!” you began. “Oh, but not for Corey.”

“Screw Corey,” Peter said happily. “He’ll recover– eventually.” 

Lily tsked, Marlene laughing at Corey’s ill fated sickness. 

“I’ll send him some flowers,” James assured, head poking towards yours. “Would that appease you?”

You pretended to think it over for a moment, hand on your chin in contemplation. “Yes, it would.”

James smiled, placing a heavy arm behind your neck, his hand placed upon your right shoulder. You hoped he’d take it off before his fingertips nearly burned five small holes through your jumper. You couldn’t bear for Lily to see you like this, as she was the last person in the whole world, besides James, that you wanted to know about your stupid infatuation. He tugged at you a bit, trying to get you to look at him again.

“What?”  

“Nothing,” he said after a beat, dropping his hand away with a laugh. 

“You’re very odd today.” You side-eyed him, wondering if he was planning on pranking you or something of the sort, especially after his joy at seeing you jump out of your skin this morning.

“What else is new,” Remus said, smiling to himself. James glared at him before turning back to you. 

“Just trying to cheer you up,” he said. You gave him a small, kind smile, appreciating the gesture. 

As you rounded the corner, Dorcas and Mary were revealed to be sitting on the stone lip along one of the walls. Dorcas left Mary with a short word of goodbye upon seeing your group, running up happily to James with the same buzz. 

“Did you hear–?”

“Yep, Daniel just told me,” James answered, not letting her finish. Dorcas practically jumped up and down, beginning to walk backwards in front of you down the corridor. You heard Marlene’s distinctly girlish giggle beside Lily. 

“They’ve got no chance without him,” Dorcas said with a wolfish grin. “Last year he took me out for good, the bloody knobsnarker. It was the only reason we lost. And he gave me a bruise the size of a melon. But the whole team's rubbish except for Corey.”

James hummed, head bobbing from side to side. “Poppy’s not too bad of a seeker.”

“She’s no match for me, though. We’ve got it in the bag tomorrow.” Dorcas smirked, turning on her heels and butting her way between you and James. She threw an arm around your shoulders just as James had, glancing down at you with a pestering look in her eyes. “You’ve got to promise me you’ll get good and drunk tomorrow night after I win.”  

You laughed, shaking your head. “I don’t know, no promises. Maybe if Sirius makes that potion…even then you’ll have to bribe me.” Sirius made the best hangover cure in all of Hogwarts, but it was a pain in the arse and took forever to brew. You practically had to beg him to give you some every time you needed it, and that only worked about half the time. He had the tendency to hoard it for the especially bad mornings and would only give it up if you were on your deathbed.

“I’ll steal some for you,” James offered. “I know where his stash is.”

“He might have charmed it. You know how protective he is over the stuff,” you remind him, though James didn’t seem to consider that enough of a deterrent. “Where is he, anyway?”

James, Remus, and Peter stalled for a moment, Remus speaking up first, “I don’t know. He said he’d meet James at the pitch, but he never showed.”

You were just about to tell them you saw him in the hall, but Peter interrupted. 

“He’s probably off snogging Seraphina ,” he drawled, her name spoken like a curse. James groaned, a disgusted look upon his face. 

“She seems nice enough,” said Lily in her defense. 

“And a drag,” James countered. “Even you’re more fun than she is.”

Lily scoffed at the comparison. “You’re a real tosser, you know that?”

“Here we go,” said Remus.

You snickered, sharing a glance with Marlene. No wonder they broke up , said her eyes. At least they're still friends , yours replied.

“I will have you know that I am loads of fun, right Marls?” Lily asked, turning to her friend. Marlene nodded quickly, raising her chin at James. 

“Yes, she is, Potter. Wizards chess and extracurricular academic reading are very exciting and quite the riot!” 

You started laughing along with the others, though Lily remained straight faced. You didn’t notice her winding up for a sucker punch until it was too late. 

“Yeah, and Y/N is too. We all know how much the Astronomy Club helps you wind down and let loose.”

James howled, as did Dorcas, whose arm grew a bit tighter round your shoulders. You shoved it off, scoffing as Peter continued to snort. You ought to have called them all nerds, as Lily and James consistently got better marks than you, and your grades were on par with Remus and Marlene’s, but you decided to let it slide. A good jab was a good jab.  

-✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧-

After the double period of DADA, everyone was done with classes for the day, all light on their feet as the weekend neared its beginning. You and Lily we set to go to the library like you did most Friday’s after class, trying to convince Dorcas to come along. 

“It’ll be fun,” Lily begged, moving out of the way for some other students to pass. Dorcas shook her head, looking back at James and Sirius who were itching to leave. It was most certainly not Dorcas's idea of fun to spend an afternoon at the library of all places, though Lily never ceased her efforts. You swore you’d only seen Dorcas there once or twice during your entire stint at Hogwarts. 

“I’m going to the pitch, you wanker. Potter'll kill me if I don’t!” She looked back at the Marauders, James waving her on anxiously. He hopped up a few times in the air, his movements increasing in their intensity. 

Lily's hands came to her hips, peering over Dorcas’s shoulder at James. He had turned back to the others, still antsy, but listening to something Remus was saying. 

“Potter!” Lily shouted. James turned quickly, his tie undone and swinging onto one shoulder. “Can’t you spare Dorcas for an hour?” 

James sighed, eyes rolling back as he slouched forward. “No, Evans , I can’t! We just barely got the time away from the Hufflepuffs!” He glanced between you and Lily before piping up again, “Wanna come and watch?” 

Lily scoffed. “You’re sounding more and more like Sirius these days.”

James shrugged with a teasing grin, looking towards you. “Come on, don’t you wanna see your best mate in action?” He moved around like he was on a broom before adjusting the bag slung across his shoulder. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow at the match,” you reminded him. “And who says you’re my best mate?”

Sirius smiled a genuine, full smile, and it made you happy to know your insult towards James is what did it. Remus made a pained face as if he had just watched James fall from his imaginary broom. 

“ Uh! ” James gasped, taking a few heavy steps closer. “I said you’re my new favorite, does that mean anything to you?”

Godric, why does he have to do this? You really wished this little schtick could end so you could go back to pretending James didn’t even like you all that much.

“You both can fight about it later,” said Lily, linking your arms. “We’ve got to nab the good tables before the first years hog them.”

“Have fun,” Dorcas said with a wave, walking towards Sirius. James stood and shook his head at you. 

“I’ll see you!” you called to no one in particular. Lily dropped your arm and you both began to speed walk towards the library. Halfway there you could feel her staring at you through the corner of your eye. You sighed, glancing over. She had an odd, uncharacteristic smirk upon her face. You didn’t know whether you should be frightened or not. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said, her skirt dancing to and fro as she walked.

Chapter Three

[sherewrytes]

Title: "A Cursed Christmas"

Day 3 of writing Christmas Fics.

The throne room of Sukuna’s domain was a place that felt as though it had never known warmth or happiness, a space woven together from ancient darkness and forgotten history. Jagged stone walls rose around you, their surfaces slick with the kind of cold that burrowed into your bones. The stones were so black that they seemed to absorb all light, creating shadows that clung to every corner, wrapping the room in an ever-present gloom. The only relief came from the faint flicker of torches set along the walls, their flames dancing restlessly, casting long, creeping shadows across the floor.

The air itself was thick, as if it had grown heavy with centuries of curses and malice, and a faint scent of incense mixed with the musky scent of decay, making the room feel like it belonged to something far older and darker than you could ever fully comprehend. Yet, despite the overwhelming presence of dread that seemed to suffocate the space, tonight was different.

You had spent the last hour carefully decorating the great hall, determined to bring a shred of warmth and light into Sukuna’s cold domain. As you draped the sparkling lights across the jagged walls, their red and green glow looked almost unnatural against the stone. The brightness cut through the otherwise oppressive darkness like an anomaly. The lights shimmered faintly, almost as if they weren’t truly meant to be there. The cold stone, which once seemed hostile and unwelcoming, now had a certain softness to it, the colors of the lights bringing a touch of warmth, however fleeting.

At the center of the room stood a Christmas tree, its massive form towering over the space. Its dark green needles, almost black in color, swayed gently with the slightest movement of air. The ornaments that adorned it weren’t the usual cheery decorations found in mortal homes, but twisted, eerie shapes that nonetheless captured a strange kind of beauty. Some were shaped like sharp, jagged thorns, others resembled grotesque faces, all somehow glinting in the dim light. They were unsettling, but strangely captivating in the way they reflected the flickering light of the torches.

In stark contrast to the gloom that dominated the room, the tree was alive with an energy that seemed to pulse with every breath. The room, too, felt strangely warm. Not from any natural source, but a warmth that seemed to come from the effort you had put into this bizarre, yet somehow fitting holiday setup. There was a fleeting moment of peace, a brief, almost unreal escape from the dark, terrifying world Sukuna had built around himself.

Seated on his throne, Sukuna’s gaze swept over the room, his intense eyes narrowing as they scanned the changes you had wrought. His usual expression of indifference had softened ever so slightly, though not enough to admit that he might find your efforts... amusing. He didn’t speak for a moment, his sharp eyes flicking between the tree and the eerie glow that filled the space.

He tilted his head ever so slightly, a faint quirk of his lips the only sign that he was suppressing something. Whether it was a chuckle or simply a sarcastic thought, you couldn’t be sure, but the quiet amusement in his eyes was unmistakable. He wasn’t going to say it, but there was something about your efforts that had caught his attention, even if he was too proud to admit it.

"Is this some sort of human nonsense?" he asked, his voice deep and rough, cutting through the air like the slice of a blade. "What is this Christmas you speak of?"

You turned to him, a grin pulling at your lips as you adjusted the angle of a crooked ornament hanging from one of the lower branches. "It’s a holiday," you said, your voice light and cheerful, as if to make up for the eerie surroundings. "A time for joy, togetherness… and some tradition. Trust me, it’ll grow on you."

Sukuna’s lips twitched, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. His usual air of superiority was there, but there was something else beneath it. Something subtle. He let out a quiet, almost dismissive sigh before answering, though the soft glint in his eyes betrayed his true feelings. "Hmm, if you say so. It still looks like you're trying to make my domain more… tolerable."

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound almost strange in the silence of the room. "Well, I’m doing my best. And it looks pretty cool, don’t you think?"

For a moment, Sukuna said nothing. He simply observed, his gaze moving from the tree to the wreaths you had hung on the walls, their twisted shapes now casting shadows that seemed to shift unnaturally with the flame’s flicker. His eyes lingered there, almost as if he was considering the changes you’d made to his cold, cursed kingdom.

Then, with a resigned sigh, he lifted a hand and flicked his wrist through the air. A wave of cursed energy washed over the room, and suddenly the decorations took on a life of their own. The wreaths, once simply festive, shimmered, and their colors deepened, transforming into something darker and more sinister. The green turned into a deeper, almost black shade, and the red became darker, like blood soaked into fabric. They seemed to pulse with life, twisting as if they were living creatures rather than simple ornaments.

The Christmas tree, too, reacted to Sukuna’s power. The lights that had once glowed innocently now burned with an eerie intensity, their glow darker, sharper. The once soft needles of the tree seemed to ripple, bending in unnatural ways, but the effect wasn’t one of destruction—it was one of transformation. The tree looked even more magnificent, its form now exuding an intimidating majesty that seemed to rival even Sukuna himself.

"Fine," Sukuna said, his voice betraying a hint of approval, though it was carefully concealed beneath his usual stoic demeanor. "This isn’t the worst thing you could have done. But next time, don’t expect me to get involved."

You stepped back, staring at the transformed room, and for the first time, you saw the true effect of your efforts—a mixture of light and darkness that was oddly fitting for Sukuna’s domain. There was a sense of both unease and awe in the air, the kind of beauty that could only come from something as dark and ancient as Sukuna himself.

"Next time, huh?" you teased, leaning against the stone wall with a grin. "I’ll take that as a compliment."

Sukuna simply grunted, a low, almost imperceptible growl escaping his throat. His gaze shifted toward you, still observing, though there was an unfamiliar softness to the way his eyes lingered on you. The intimidating figure that usually sat unmoving on his throne now seemed less like an untouchable king and more like someone who had allowed a tiny sliver of humanity—albeit in his own twisted form—into his world.

And even if he would never admit it, this Christmas, cursed and eerie as it was, seemed to be slowly becoming something more than just another night in his dark and desolate domain. It was a night where his cold heart might have just warmed—just a little.

As the evening drew on, Sukuna led you out of the grand throne room, deeper into his cursed domain. The air grew colder as you neared a hidden, glistening expanse of ice—a massive, frozen lake that stretched endlessly under a silvered moon. The surface of the ice was unlike anything you had seen, shimmering with an unnatural, cursed glow. Despite its beauty, there was an undeniable eerie quality to it, as though the ice itself held memories of countless battles fought and won.

"Here," Sukuna said, voice low but commanding. "This is where we test your balance, human."

You eyed the ice skeptically, unsure of how safe it really was. Sukuna’s chuckles didn’t help ease your nerves. "I’ve never ice-skated on cursed ice before," you murmured, as you hesitated at the edge.

He smirked. "It’s not like you’ll fall through, mortal. Unless you’re foolish enough to let your mind wander."

"Thanks for the confidence boost," you muttered, but, bolstered by his words, you stepped onto the ice. Almost immediately, you wobbled, and your feet slipped from under you. But before you could crash into the ice, Sukuna’s massive hand shot out, steadying you. His grip was firm, but not unkind.

"You’re hopeless," he said with a huff, though there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes.

"Thanks, I try my best," you retorted, unable to suppress a smile.

Sukuna didn’t let go, guiding you carefully across the ice. Despite his usual stoic demeanor, he seemed oddly patient. His large form was fluid and graceful as he glided effortlessly, his movements almost predatory in their beauty. You, on the other hand, were still struggling, trying to maintain balance with little success.

"You’re getting better," he said after a while, his gaze almost softer than usual, as if impressed. "For a human."

"Careful," you teased, still struggling to stay upright. "You’re sounding like you actually care."

He grumbled in response, rolling his eyes. "Don’t flatter yourself."

Yet, for a fleeting moment, his expression softened. You could feel the unspoken connection between you—an understanding that went beyond words or actions. Sukuna was often a being of harshness and cruelty, yet in this rare moment, he allowed himself to be a little more… human.

"Try to keep up," he said after a moment, increasing his pace, gliding effortlessly ahead of you.

After hours on the cursed ice, you returned to Sukuna’s throne room, your legs aching from the effort. You had never expected to find yourself skating in a cursed domain, but here you were, trying your best to make something of it, and even having fun. Sukuna, of course, had been mostly amused by your struggles, but it seemed to entertain him more than he’d let on.

"You’re still alive," Sukuna commented as you made your way back to the warmth of his throne. "Impressive. You should be grateful for that."

"You’re just in a good mood because you’re right about everything," you teased, settling next to him on the couch near the fire. You began preparing hot chocolate, unsure whether he would even try it, given his usual aversion to things humans enjoyed.

To your surprise, Sukuna watched you closely as you mixed the cocoa, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than usual. There was something about the quiet of the room—the fire crackling softly in the background—that made his presence seem a little less imposing. The usual arrogance and superiority in his tone were still there, but there was a flicker of something else—something softer.

You handed him the mug, your fingers brushing his as he took it from you. For a moment, his usual harshness softened, and he nodded approvingly. "Tolerable," he muttered after taking a sip, though his voice was less gruff than usual.

“Is that your way of saying you like it?” you asked, grinning.

He gave you an almost unnoticeable look, one that lingered for a moment longer than he probably intended. "You’re annoying," he grumbled, but there was no malice in his words. Just a quiet acknowledgment of your persistence.

You chuckled softly and settled closer to him, the warmth from the fire and his presence wrapping around you like a blanket. Despite everything—despite the power, the curses, the threats—you found a strange peace in this moment with Sukuna, of all people. Even in his domain of darkness, you had managed to carve out a small piece of light.

As the night stretched on, the eerie beauty of Sukuna's domain began to take on a new kind of atmosphere. The torches lining the walls flickered dimly, casting faint shadows that danced along the jagged stone surfaces. The once cold and intimidating throne room now felt subtly different, imbued with the warmth of your presence. There was a palpable shift in the air, and you couldn’t help but notice that Sukuna’s usual aloof and imposing demeanor had softened over time.

His eyes—those piercing, four-eyed stares—had always been filled with disdain or amusement, as if the world was a mere source of entertainment for him, something to be observed from his elevated position. But tonight, there was a noticeable change. Every time he looked at you, there was something more in his gaze, something that hinted at affection or, at the very least, an acknowledgment of the bond you had formed. It was subtle, just a flicker behind his usual cold mask, but it was there. It wasn’t as if he had transformed into a different person; he was still the King of Curses, still the fearsome and deadly being that everyone trembled before. But in these rare, quiet moments, when he let his guard down—just a little—it felt like a side of him was being revealed that he rarely allowed anyone to see.

You caught him staring at you again—this time, it wasn’t just curiosity or annoyance in his gaze. It was something deeper. His four eyes watched you with an intensity that bordered on fascination, though there was something else in his look that you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t the usual smirk or challenge in his expression, but something softer. Something almost vulnerable.

“What?” you asked, your voice teasing and light, breaking the silence that had stretched between you. “You’re looking at me like you’ve never seen a human before.”

Sukuna grumbled, a low sound that came from deep within his chest. His lip curled in annoyance, the usual edge to his voice making it clear that he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the shift in the air. “Stop getting so full of yourself,” he muttered, though there was no real bite behind the words.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly, your smile growing wider. “But it’s true,” you pressed, unable to resist. “You can’t stop staring. You’re smitten.”

A flicker of something passed through his expression—a momentary hesitation, a shift in the way his eyes narrowed as if debating whether to challenge your teasing or remain silent. You could tell he wasn’t used to being put on the spot like this. It wasn’t often that anyone, least of all you, dared to poke fun at him. But instead of snapping back with his usual sharp retort, he chose silence, his gaze flickering briefly before he turned away with a low, almost dismissive growl.

“You talk too much,” he grumbled, the familiar edge of annoyance creeping back into his voice.

You leaned in a little closer, your teasing not letting up. “I’m just saying,” you said with a playful glint in your eyes, “It’s okay to admit you’re fond of me.”

Sukuna scoffed, but even that didn’t feel quite as harsh as it usually did. There was no real malice in the sound, just a gruff acceptance of your presence, of your playful persistence. “You’ll be the death of me,” he muttered, but the words lacked the usual ominous weight they might have carried. It was almost as if he was resigned to it, and it was clear that the threat wasn’t genuine this time.

You grinned, completely undeterred by his words. “That’s what they all say,” you teased, the corner of your lips curving upward.

Sukuna rolled his eyes, clearly growing tired of the back-and-forth. But even as he did, you noticed he didn’t protest any further. He didn’t tell you to be silent or retreat into his throne as he normally would. Instead, he let you continue, allowed the playful banter to hang between you. In that moment, as the firelight flickered around you both and cast long shadows across the room, you realized just how rare this kind of exchange was. It was a quiet kind of intimacy, an understanding that didn’t need words or grand gestures. It was the kind of moment that only existed between two people who had learned each other’s rhythms, who had shared enough small, private moments to know what the other was thinking without having to say it aloud.

You and Sukuna, two seemingly opposing forces, had found a way to coexist in this space—his dark, cursed world softened by your presence, and your light tempered by his sharp edges. And as the flickering glow from the torches cast fleeting shadows across the room, you couldn’t help but think that, despite all the darkness around you, this moment—this rare glimpse of something softer, something more human between you—was all that mattered.

It wasn’t grand or monumental, but it was real. And for tonight, in the quiet of Sukuna’s domain, that was enough.