#and how it sometimes looks when trapped in one of his illusions

[yandere-wishes]

⭒ㅤׂ ɪ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʙᴇ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇㅤׂ ⭒

⭒ㅤ𓈒 Yandere!WuWa! Men x Reader 𓈒 ⭒

゜⌒ヽ❥ Dark Romance

°•❃•°

꒷꒦꒷Scar | 伤痕

Your fear tastes like nectar, thick and sweet, and sacrilegious. Scar gulps down your apprehension in starving strides. Cradling the burn between his teeth, savoring the sensation of the embers coiling and seething inside his veins. You're too perfect, thrashing underneath him, caged and defiant his little lost lamb. trying to flee, begging for freedom like a fever dream high. He licks your iridescent tears with zealous maniacal jubilation. Relishing in the soft warm flesh of your cheek marinated in your woe. He wants to taste them every day, force them from your pretty petrified eyes with scorching kisses and touches that shatter your very bones.

Scar's talons etch jagged filigrees across your body engraving terrors and torments all parodying "I love you". But he can't love, not really, love is too gentle too vain, he needs to consume, to feel the reverberations trapped between your bones. Scar's kisses burn wakes down your spine, slipping between the vertebras. Hollowing out your essence piece by piece, his hunger knows no bonds, refusing to dwindle until he's bled every delicious part of you dry. Until he feels your heart between his teeth.

˚✶˚Jiyan | 忌炎

You trace his markings, nails gliding gingerly through the jagged crystals of his tacet mark. He kisses the hollow of your palm, basking in the sweet giggle you gift him. You're his precious treasure, a sweet gem imported from the silk roads themselves. He'd do anything to keep you safe binding your soul to his tattered one. Jiyan is the Qingloong that everyone looks up to, the indestructible pillar of Jinzhou. And yet a simple smile from you is all it takes to shatter his illusion of strength.

Between patients, his mother would sometimes grace him with fables about Dragons, not Loong, not the creature their nation worshiped but Dragons monsters from the western nations. She'd tell him How they hoarded exotic treasures from all corners of the world. Growing powerful in the light of other's envy. They did anything to protect their gold coins and pearl necklaces, kill, and maim in the name of obsession. Back then he'd found such creatures disgusting, dubbed it blasphemy to even mention them in the same breath as the deific Loong. Now he thinks he's more dragon than Loong. Hoarding you away keeping you only to himself. Promising to maul any who try to rob him of your sweet kisses and angelic laughter.

𒆜Calcharo | 卡卡罗

You come prepackaged with a soft smile and a docile heart. Calcharo thinks it's all from the privilege of having lived a satisfactory life. Cherished, overfed, protected. All the things stripped of him so young. He shouldn't be jealous though, after all, he has the complacency to thank for turning his darling into such an ideal doll. Jejune and helpless, shivering under his cold touch. He harbors you between his thighs, enjoying the way your pearl-kissed dress pools on the floor. An ivory testament to the innocence he so craves. Calcharo's calloused fingers entrap the hollow of your hips pulling you harshly against him, he can't get enough of you. His lips kiss the dip of your neck nose bumping the back of your ear. Enraptured by the floral scent of your perfume.

You tried to run again today, flee when he'd been out escorting a merchant across the desert terrain. His men had caught you, binded you all pretty and left you in his chamber. He flashes you a crooked smile upon entry. Watching as you struggle and glare knowing damn well it won't change a thing. "Really little rabbit? I thought we had ceased playing such foolish games." He grasps your chin pulling you closer, your knees slide across the wooden floor scuffing from the friction. His cold lips trace your own as he whispers degradations laced with romance. Calcharo leans down for the kill, a lethal crushing kiss. Trapping your lips and engulfing your essence. Laughing when you're foolish enough to return the favor. You shiver and moan and it takes every bit of willpower not to devour you right then and there.

☄Mortefi | 莫特斐

The universe reverberates to a familiar tune when he first sees you. Singing a melody he swears he's heard each night when he lays his wry head to rest. What kind of creature are you? A cacophony of starsongs and golden echoes. He longs to touch you, to permit his flames to traverse your body searing you until you shine with the purity you all so deserve. He loses himself in the melody of your voice, the lost tune of a fading nova. Something too ethereal to be of this crude world.

Mortefi fancies himself a scientist and takes utmost pride in the way his mind curves around a problem. Floating through the riddles seeking answers in the dark. He can fix anything, create anything. And yet you stand before him defiant of his understanding. Mortefi grabs you by the collar, cradling a rogue sun within his palms, kissing its rays trying to grasp comprehension between his teeth and swallow it whole. It doesn't work by the end of the kiss you are still an anomaly and he is still a scientist wearing the heart as some hapless love-struck schoolboy. The need to understand you grows claws tearing at his mind, desperation pierces his throat whenever he catches a mere glimpse of you. He needs to understand, to tear you open and choke your secrets.

҉　Aalto | 秋水

Aalto's fingers weave through your hair, silk traversing through bone and flesh, flowing free in the aero he produces subconsciously. He cradles you delicately in his arms, trying his best to ignore the sour frown etched upon your face. He creates fables, spinning stories out of silk and air trying to win your interest with tales of stray sheep and fallen stars. Of lost treasures on the jade road and little girls with fire flowing through their veins. Your frown doesn't falter.

He kisses you again, and again and again. Trying to pry out adoration and devotion from between your bones. He struggles, whining about detesting and freedom. It sounds so trivial especially when he can give you everything your heart desires. He can't let you go, not when his very essence aches to feel you between his arms. Aalto wonders what stories he must make to erase that blood-curdling frown of yours. What information does he need to lay out your feet for you to grace his lips with your own? A lover's kiss, not whatever this is. I love you he whispers, he doubts you even care.

Let me know what you think. Should I do yandere Jiyan x reader x Yandere Calcharo next? ~💜

[t-horn-n]

— waterstrider

pairing: simon “ghost” riley x reader (female) 

genre: fluff ?

summary: watching you and ghost become you and ghost.

word count: 1 158

There is a certain inconsistency with you that Ghost is able to sense but not quite place when you first join the task force.  You’re the sort that wears her heart upon her sleeve.  You like to fill the room with your jokes and anecdotes and quips.  You spill your guts to the point that Ghost knows more about you and your idiot brother and how your parents have just retired) in the first six months following your arrival than he knew about the Captain in the first three years of knowing him.  On the internet, they would call you one of those people who can’t be mysterious because you yap too much.

Still, there is something that sets you apart from just any old civi.  And it is not simply that you’re good at staying calm in stressful situations, nor that you’re not half bad at military strategy.  Rather, it’s that you’ve compartmentalised yourself into the part that you offer to people (your brother, your parents’ retirement) and the part that you keep tucked into your chest, hidden beneath your ribs.  It’s an illusion, you see, that sense of complete transparency that you project.  

It was years ago, now.   When the scent of high school still clung to you and you were marginally more stupid than you are now.  You got yourself ensnared with the wrong, mean, borderline sociopathic sort of people so quickly that it was a real life example of the snowball effect.  Initially, it was just one time you brushed off your last period class to go around town with these guys you met at the convenience store to get back at your brother who, at the time, had a habit of being overprotective.  

Long story short, the whole situation ended with fingerprints around your neck and your head held down in the river behind the grocery mart that everyone was sure was a mafia front.  You remember being hauled out of that river with astonishing accuracy.  You remember the temperature of the water and the exact thoughts that raced through your mind.

Of course, over the years you recovered, squeezed the silty water from your lungs and learned some common sense.  But events like that are somewhat sticky.  

One of your motivations to join the military was to find the self-confidence to never feel like you did coughing up water and dirt, after all.  

You were wary—cat-like—when you first joined Ghost and the rest of the 141, but that’s just how it is in the military most of the time.  And after a few weeks you were bantering with them like you had known them for years.  Truly, it seemed as though you were the most normal one out of them.

What they don’t know is that you don’t like showers.  Or at least, you don’t like the sensation of the water beating on your face.  It feels like you’ll just forget how to breathe and the water will fill your lungs again.  So instead you’ll stand at the edge of the shower, wetting a soapy washcloth every evening after training.  

You’ll never go swimming, of course.   You won’t take the chance.  Even when you can see the bottom, an irrational, bone-deep paralysis traps you in this space where your thoughts are very loud and your body feels very far away.  It’s fine, though.   There isn't a great deal of demand for aquatic soldiers.  

You don’t like sleeping under a lot of covers either, but you’re a cold sleeper and you don’t have control over the temperature on base, so you layer hoodie over hoodie at night.  Inevitably, you look like a mass of sentient fabric if you ever  encounter one of your  peers in the kitchen late at night.  

Talking is how your little dance with Ghost started, though, late night encounters aside.  Sometimes, you would open with a joke on the way back to base from the training grounds and he would reply with his own and you would both feel a special sense of connection that is a little different than that most often found in  military task forces.  It wasn’t brotherhood, like what linked Ghost to Soap and Price and Gaz.  

On other occasions, you all would be at a bar on the weekend, making the cheap beer taste better with each other’s company.  You and Ghost would be perched on your barstools and he would be telling you about some stunt Soap pulled years ago while the other three men kept each other entertained.  You two would still be there after Price, Soap, and Gaz sobered up in the late night air on the way to the bus stop that took them back to the base.  You would blink and then it was midnight and you were on the bus with all of the other witching hour vagrants that got on after spending too much time staring at the bottom of a glass, but you wouldn’t even see them because you were too busy listening to Simon and his wonderfully deep, tired voice.  You would be pressed shoulder to shoulder, each staring at your feet or your hands.  

There are very special times, too.  The kind that you will remember the sensation of—the moment’s taste, its colors, its imprint on your mind—even after you’ve forgotten the time and place and the words said.  Like when Ghost becomes Simon.  Like when he tells you about his mother and the man she was married to.  Like when he presses his lips to your neck and instead of feeling cold and wet and gross like you expect it to, he just sighs, warmly, in a way that makes you feel like you’ve been filled with helium.

Then, when that dance you were doing becomes more confident, when you start pulling and twisting each other about the dance floor rather than just hoping you’ll brush the other’s hand as you glide aimlessly around, those compartments that you have successfully preserved for the last decade shift, somewhat.  They don’t break, by any means.  Simply, they are rearranged.

Simon runs hot.  Especially when he sleeps, which means that when he crashes in your quarters you de-layer and tuck your cold feet between his calves.  Simon is also a big man, though.  So when he rolls over on to your chest in the middle of the night, you are startled awake.  You remember the pressure as the air in your lungs was replaced by something denser.  While he sleeps—deeply, as he always does in your quarters—you stare at the ceiling, watching the fuzzy darkness undulate over and around itself.

Eventually, you will tell him why you can’t tolerate your face being covered while you sleep.  You’ll divulge the contents of your nightmares.  Someday, his past and yours will be murmured into existence whether on a late-night bus back from town or in his bathroom as you brush your teeth together on some random Thursday night.

— m. list

[darkcircles4lyfe]

To Build Something Else

Whenever I read a fanfiction that takes place in the future where the hero kids continue their schooling as normal and emerge as pro heroes into the existing system, I always kinda view it as like, “AU where things weren’t as bad” or “AU where everyone is still pretending that this is the way things should be” or “AU where good and evil are morally uncomplicated.” I’m not trying to call anybody out—I’ll still read and enjoy these sometimes—but that’s how I’ve always looked at it. I’m starting to notice other people feeling it too. I’ve read fics where they point out how redundant and unfair it is to go back to being students after saving the world (remember how many pros straight up quit and left a bunch of kids to keep fighting?). I’ve seen people acknowledge how trauma will affect their ability to keep going. Perhaps the trickiest thing to wrap our heads around is how the villains will fit into it all if not through death, punishment, or imprisonment. What about all the other trappings of society? The heavily regulated quirk use, the government-funded pros aiding police control and contributing to cover-ups that maintain the illusion of peace. Hero idolization, quirk counseling, civilian helplessness. Judging a person’s worth or character based on their quirk…

It would sound too obvious and cheesy to simply point out that society isn’t “just the way things are,” that change is possible. We all know this, and yet we struggle to pinpoint exactly where to aim our sights, find the source, make any meaningful progress. The other day I read some articles from my university’s student newspaper around 1970, and it made me feel sick wondering if progress is really an illusion. Fact is, it’s easy to intellectually deconstruct society, but very difficult to imagine how to build something else.

In this fictional world, heroes have offered a mythical vision of safety and triumph. When All Might arrived, everything was going to be okay. But let’s not forget how this story began: with a moment where All Might paused, like a bystander, and in his place, a desperate civilian kid hurtled forward without any common sense. If you ask me, it wasn’t that Izuku was so good and pure and selfless, it was that he disregarded everything.

And so the person who “saves the world” (if we can even reduce it to such a concept) is not the person who puts everyone at ease and makes crowds cheer. It’s the person who makes everyone hold their breath, with a feeling in the air like the pressure changed, and it smells like rain. It is natural to be worried about the future. It’s honest. It means you can see what’s really going on. Hero society has never felt this exposed, but the people are held back from the edge of despair because there is also so much potential brewing. Electricity about to strike. The world will NOT go back to the way it was, no matter what. That much is certain. But what if we still live to see the dawn? What then? What if one person’s courage to break the mold makes all the difference?

I’m not just talking about Izuku, you know. I’m talking about Horikoshi.

To an extent, I’ve given up on predicting how exactly things will play out, because if nothing else, I can tell he’s planning something big—so big, I can’t quite picture it. I’m watching and waiting for the one person who can. I just know where he’s coming from. I think about how he’s never come this far before because his other stories were snuffed out. I know he used to struggle to see the future of his career. I relate to his stubbornly rebellious resolve to do what he wants anyway. To keep dreaming. I know that emotional sincerity is his specialty. And now he’s even directly breaking the fourth wall, having characters talk about what’s supposed to happen in comic books. Gradually, almost imperceptibly at first, we’ve been shown how something else can happen. He’s not done yet.

[atinystraynstay]

My Flower - Park Seonghwa

Synopsis: Seonghwa saw you as his world, his everything. You're always the person he can go to when he has to make a tough decision. You are always eagerly listening to the new tracks and watching the dance practices for upcoming performances. Even after long days, you were there to welcome him with open arms. What happens when his whole universe is left feeling like the world is against them?

Pairing: Idol! Park Seonghwa x reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, established relationship

Word Count: 2k

Warning: does describe anxiety and a bit of depression. If you ever do need a place to vent, always feel free to send a message. You're never alone 🩷

You couldn’t shake how you were feeling. From the moment you woke up, you felt like clouds were hanging over your head. You tried your best to shake off the feeling by actually getting out of bed and getting in the shower.

Growing up, you used to be more shy about expressing your emotions. People used to comment how much they loved your smile when you were younger. It even got you the title of “the kid who always smiles.” You had a genuinely happy childhood, but the title and comments from people taught you that negative emotions such as sadness or anger should never be expressed.

Those bad days became intense because you got into the bad habit of allowing emotions build inside of you to the point you would burst. Those intense moments would cause you to cry until your chest hurts, not knowing why exactly you were upset because they were a cultivation of numerous events that occurred - some fairly recent to things that happened weeks ago. You would describe your younger self as a volcano waiting to erupt. You gave off the illusion that you were calm, put together. That was until the emotions bubbled up and overflowed. The severity of the eruption dependent on what triggered it.

It is part of the reason why you started therapy at a young age. Realizing you were struggling, your mom took it upon herself to get you set up with a therapist so you could begin to learn how to regulate your emotions. You’re thankful your mom was that proactive.

Of course, the way you handled your emotions at 15 is not the same being in your 20s. Going to college was a time that tested your development, your way of being but also helped you grow. You discovered more ways to help you calm down, how to communicate more efficiently when you were frustrated or upset, and learned to accept the bad days as life lessons. Truth be told, you felt more in control once you were living independent and finding who you really were meant to be.

Since getting with Seonghwa, you could say you’ve had more good days than bad. He was the person who offered a safe refuge to feel out and express your emotions. One of your favorite ways to unwind was to just watching Seonghwa build his lego sets. He just looked so at peace as his focused on which pieces go where. It made you feel content seeing him so relaxed which ultimately helped you, knowing that he was taking care of himself.

It was hard for Seonghwa to show his true colours sometimes. Being the oldest member, he felt the pressure to put on a brave face, strong aura especially for his younger members. Like you, he thrived on being the person people could depend on. With you though, he didn’t have to pretend everything was ok. He could cry, vent, scream if he needed to. You guys balanced each other out, or at least that’s what he thought.

He didn’t know over the past few months, you’ve begun to harbor your emotions again. You were so focused on providing for Seonghwa, attending to your job and other responsibilities that you were beginning to slip again. Yet, you didn’t want to show any signs of it. You were positive that you were strong enough to weather any storm.

Lately, life felt like you were trapped in a hurricane. Your job was severely understaffed, which meant your workload doubled than what it was supposed to be. It didn’t help that you didn’t get much joy out of your job either. You worked longer hours, and over time, you’ve had to give up going to the gym. You sometimes weren’t coming home until 7 or 8pm, completely drained from having to be at work at 7am. Your boss promised it was temporary, that they were actively searching for new employees, but it’s been months at this rate.

It didn’t help that Seonghwa hasn’t been home often. His attention was needed at the studio most days. ATEEZ were preparing for their new comeback, and you were so proud of all of them. You just hated being separated from your partner for so long, especially when nothing in life was going your way. Seonghwa always did a good job at reminding you what was going right when you were having difficulty seeing it for yourself. And right now, everything seemed so bleak.

After work, you found yourself just sitting on the couch. Your jacket was hung up but purse was left by the side of the couch. Despite how little energy you felt like you had, you somehow were able to make your way to the living room. You were stationary, leaning against the back of the couch but doing not much else. You were staring at her TV, staring at the reflection of yourself on the black screen. Your mind was racing with ideas as you were trying to steady your heart. Anxiety and depression can be nasty monsters, and when they are both working in unison, they felt like an unstoppable duo.

You didn’t even register the sound of the front door opening and closing. The thoughts that were occurring in your head were deafening, the only thing you can focus on. You closed your eyes to get to pick through and silence the loud voices in your head.

Am I doing enough at my job? Is my job even worth it? I’m supposed to love what I do but why do I hate myself so much for doing it? When will I be done?

“Baby? Come back to me, angel. Please.”

A gentle, warm touch started to bring you back to reality. It caused you to jump because it was a sudden touch but you completely relaxed staring into the eyes of your lover in front of you.

Seonghwa was crouching in front of you. One hand was on your knee, the other gently cradling your face after brushing a few strands of hair being your ear. His eyes bouncing all over your face to try to piece together what might be troubling you.

You noticed the concerned expression on his face which caused you to frown. You hated letting him down. You were meant to be his source of strength, but here you were doing the complete opposite.

"I'm sorry, Hwa. I didn't even hear you come in. Have you eaten? I didn't get started on cooking but I can do that now," you offered. Your voice was a bit weaker than you wanted it to be.

Your boyfriend just stared at you. His lips pulled into a small frown. You wanted to just sink into the couch at this point. It felt like you were digging a hole and it was only getting deeper.

"Y/n, there its something wrong. You need to tell me what's going on in that pretty mind of yours, so I can help you." "Why?" He looked stunned at your response. He leaned back quite a bit, which made you pray the floor gave out at this point and took you and the couch with it. At that moment, you wanted to take back every word you said to cause such an alarm. His eyes traveled your body. Not in a suggestive way, but you could see the gears in his head were starting to turn. What was he looking for?

"How long?" "What?" "How long have you been feeling this way without letting me in?"

You hung your head low, almost in shame. You weren't shocked that Seonghwa cracked your code, but you thought you could put this little act on longer. Until work settled down, until your mind settled down, and until your mind felt better. Then you were planning on unleashing your realm to him, so he didn't have to save you from it. You didn't want to drag him down when your own personal demons were trying to do that.

"Oh, my love. Come here," he whispered. He then stood up to sit on the couch, cradling his arms around you and pulling you into his lap. With your body turned sideways, your leg were sprawled out across his lap and onto the couch. He rested on hand gently on your knee, letting his thumb run over it. His other hand supported your back, allowing you to rest comfortably.

"If I could take some of your sadness away from you, I would do it in a heartbeat," he whispered. He leaned forward to press a lingering kiss to the top of your head. "But for now, I think we need to get you in the bath or shower because you're practically cold to the touch."

You nodded your head, gazing up at him. For the first time in the past few days, you felt like you let yourself give a genuine smile. It was a start for Seonghwa. With ease, Seonghwa lifted you up bridal style and carried you up the stairs to your shared bathroom.

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

You felt your back fully relax against the porcelain white tub. Your body was surrounded by bubbles that were scented like rose water. The water was also a nice warm temperature, almost as if you were being wrapped in a blanket.

Seonghwa sat right beside the tub, facing you. He had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows, occasionally running his fingertips along the water or across your leg underneath. You were grateful for a gentle lover like Seonghwa. He maintained a soft gaze on you, ready to jump and get you whatever you desired.

You reached one hand to run through his soft black hair. You pushed it back slightly to expose his face more, causing you to smile. You always felt the need to pinch yourself that you landed someone as handsome as Seonghwa. But he also felt the same. He was the happiest man with you, he was in love with you.

"One of the things I've always adored about you, darling, is how generous you are to other people," Seonghwa began. Your hand moved gently from his hair to his cheek. His voice was gently, leaning slightly into your touch. You found yourself smiling lightly at the compliment, about to open your mouth and give one back but he cut you off.

"But I wished you let me give back. I wish you would allow me to help replenish your heart, replenish your being, or even give you extra love when you clearly need it the most."

You sighed, nodding in acknowledgment. "I know. I've been doing pretty well, believe me. I think with how hectic things have been lately, I just found myself slipping into old habits. I didn't want to burden you with my own problems." "But that's the thing, my love. It is never a burden. I am your partner, I am here to help you through the hard times like you help me."

Seonghwa took your hand gently from his face. He cradled your smaller hand in both of his. You watched him intently, intrigued by what he might have up his sleeve. His lips pressed gently to your knuckles before resting his chin against the edge of the tub.

"It's you and me in this universe, babe. You take care of me, but I want to be able to take care of you. You just have to let me in, especially when it gets tough."

It was then you spilled your heart, or more so your mind and its never-ending thoughts, out to Seonghwa. You told him about work, about your progress in your mental health journey, and why it is difficult for you to open up. You explained your rationale for why you kept things suppressed, despite being ashamed of yourself for your poor judgement.

Yet, Seonghwa listened intently. He was quick to remind you everything you've been forgetting.

"I knew my y/n was strong. I understand where you're coming from. You can handle most things on your own and it truly is admirable. However, I'm always going to be here to pick up the extra weight. I'm here to support you," he reaffirmed.

For the first time in your life, you're experiencing a love so genuine and authentic. Seonghwa was everything you could've asked for and so much more. You truly won the jackpot. You felt nurtured, like a flower being watered and placed in direct sunlight for the best outcomes. Seonghwa truly was your source of light, energy, and love.

"I love you so much," you whispered. "And I love you today, tomorrow, and forever," he whispered back.

[literary-motif]

hiiiii 💕💕💕 is there a chance that you could write some Asirel nsfw? 😔 i am starved for Asirel, what’s a girl to do? 😔

Bound (NSFW)

Asirel Cain x Reader

Warnings: bondage, dom/sub undertones

“What is up with you today?” Asirel asked, glancing up from the papers and looking at you. It was almost eerie. You were standing by the window, staring out of it unmoving. 

“Don’t know what you mean,” you muttered, holding eye contact with the security guard outside. He might pretend not to be scared, but you had picked up the loud thumping of his heartbeat when he had looked up, finding your relentless gaze fixed on him as if he were your prey. 

There was something so entertaining about watching Asirel’s staff scurry away from you, trying to keep up the farce of being fearless and tough when you could smell the terror on them. It was the best part of your day. 

Asirel sighed quietly, putting down the papers. “Pet!” he said sternly, trying to shake you out of your reverie. No matter how much you loved toying with his people, they were still his to protect, and he could not allow you to poison the atmosphere of their work environment. Dissatisfaction and fear were the most likely reasons for betrayal, after all.

You did not budge from your place near the window, continuing to stare into the poor man’s soul. “What, boss?” you asked tauntingly. Asirel’s preferred title had yet to roll off of your tongue. 

He got up, standing beside you and looking out of the window as well. As soon as the security guard spotted Asirel’s glare, his eyes widened and he turned his back, resuming his work. 

“You’re no fun,” you whined, turning to face him with a pout.

Asirel rolled his eyes. “How many times must I tell you to stop bothering my employees?”

“Killjoy,” you said, reaching out a hand to run your fingers over the exposed skin of his neck. You smirked, knowing exactly what to do to stave off your boredom now. If Asirel was so adamant about you leaving others alone, he would have to be your plaything instead. 

He took a step back, shaking off your hand. “I don’t have time for this,” he said, turning his back to you to walk towards his desk again. 

You wrapped your arms around his chest, pulling him against you firmly and trapping him in place. Today, you had decided to be a menace on purpose. He did not even try to fight your embrace. 

“Come on, you’ve been at it for hours without a break,” you said, resting your head on his shoulder. The soft kisses you began placing on his neck made him shudder, but Asirel kept firm, not otherwise reacting to your advances. “I could think of better ways to spend the evening,” you purred, holding him in place with one arm as your hand moved up to grasp his hair.

You tilted his head back with a harsh tug, smirking at the soft moan he let out. It was so easy to rile him up, especially when he had sat at his desk all day, drowning in work until his eyes threatened to fall shut. 

“Fine,” he breathed, allowing himself to melt against you as your teeth grazed his neck. Part of him wondered if you had compelled him sometime in the past to bend to your wishes, but the rational part of his mind told him that, no, you simply had that sway over him. 

There was something both scaring and exciting about having you so close to him, knowing you could tear him apart in an instant if you so wished — plunge your teeth into his neck and drain his blood until he crumbled, put your hand over his face until he suffocated in your arms — but you chose not to. 

He loved the game you played, allowing him the illusion of control while it was you who had all the cards. 

You smiled against the skin of his neck. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” you said, loosening your hold on him. Asirel stumbled back. Your arm shot out, steadying him with a laugh. You did not miss the light tint of red on his cheeks. 

“Why do I indulge you?” he asked with a shake of his head as you gripped his arm and dragged him out of the study. 

“Because you need me,” you said, pushing him against the door to your room, making it fall shut as you kissed him against it. “In more ways than one,” you teased, feeling his quickening heartbeat against your chest and hearing the stutter in his breath as you brushed against the bulge in his pants. 

Asirel hummed, recollecting himself for a moment before placing his hands on your shoulders and guiding you towards the lavish double bed. You had insisted on a large bed, and he had granted your wish, of course, never expecting that the reason behind your request would be that he shared it so often. 

The back of your legs hit the mattress, but before he could push you onto it, Asirel found himself on his back instead as you hovered over him with a devious smirk. You were straddling his hips, slowly grinding against him as your hands loosened his tie. 

He groaned, running his hands up and down your sides as he fumbled to pull some of your clothes off as well. 

You gripped his wrists, pinning them over his head with a smooth movement that left him breathless. You clicked your tongue, gazing down at him. “Impatient, are we?” you asked teasingly, your eyes dark with desire, “maybe I should secure them with your tie to make sure you keep your hands to yourself.” 

Asirel gasped, his cock twitching at the thought of being tied up as you had your way with him. He could feel himself sinking deeper into the mattress as you squeezed his wrists, looking down on him with a familiar hunger in your eyes. It made desire coil deep inside him, knowing you could do anything to him. 

He trusted you more than anyone else. You had no reason to betray him, and although he did not know your ulterior motives or the game you were playing in the long run, he recognized the mutual benefits of your relationship. There was no one he could trust more than a person who had the power to end him but chose not to. 

You could hear the whine he tried to bite back as the fingers of your free hand traced his exposed chest. “Or maybe—” you said with a smirk, rolling over. 

Asirel blinked, bracing himself against the mattress as you looked up at him with mischievous eyes. He caught his breath after a moment, processing the reversal of your roles. You took one of his hands, guiding it to hold your wrists in place over your head. “Oh,” he breathed, his gaze flickering to your eyes again, “are you sure?”

You hummed, opening your fists to present his tie to him in a silent request for him to bind you up. “I promise not to break it,” you purred, relinquishing your control to him. 

Asirel seized it readily, taking his tie and releasing your wrists. He sat up, his gaze unwavering as he looked at you. “Strip,” he commanded, and for the first time, you obeyed him without thought. “Very good,” he said when you laid back down, his eyes roaming over your body, “Good to know you can be good when you want to. Hands over your head, pet.”

“Don’t push it,” you warned as he bound your wrists with his tie, making sure the knot was secure. The feeling of the fabric restraining you, keeping you from moving freely, made a sigh fall from your lips. 

It was nice not being in control for once and allowing someone else to take charge. You would never allow yourself to bow to Asirel’s every wish as another puppet on his strings, but here, in the privacy of your bedroom, you could enjoy the heaviness of life, its decisions and consequences lifting as you surrendered yourself to him. 

“Too tight?” he asked in a whisper, searching your gaze for any sign of discomfort. 

“You couldn’t tie me up too tight if you tried.”

He took your chin in his hands, forcing you to maintain eye contact as he leaned closer until your noses were nearly touching. “I asked you a question,” he said calmly, making you shiver despite yourself. 

You were torn between continuing to push his buttons or relaxing into the mattress and obeying. Asirel’s eyes narrowed as if he could see the gears turning in your head. He shifted, moving one of his legs to part yours and making you decide the latter. “It’s fine,” you breathed.

He hummed, leaning down to press teasing kisses on your chest. “Good,” he muttered against your skin, his hands softly caressing your sides. 

You groaned, squirming under his touch. “Come on,” you said, bucking your hips as his teeth grazed the inside of your thighs, making you burn with longing. His teasing made you consider going back on your word, ripping apart his tie to pin him down instead and do something about the bulge you saw fighting its restraints. 

One look at the desire in his eyes made you discard that idea. You could smell the pleasure on him and how much he enjoyed winding you up like this — slowing down and taking his time to shower you with kisses. It made you feel vulnerable in a way you never had before, only amplified by your restraints, and as much as the heat in you rose and demanded satisfaction, you resigned yourself to match Asirel’s pace instead.

He took his sweet time. 

“Impatient, are we?” he parroted your earlier words back at you as he kissed your neck, sucking lightly on a spot under your ear that had you reeling. 

One of his hands was buried in your hair, tugging at the strands and making you gasp as the other caressed your chest with a feather-light touch. He was kneeling in between your legs, his hips slowly grinding against you and giving you just a taste of the friction you so desperately craved. 

“Fuck,” you could not suppress a whine, hands balling into fists to keep yourself in check. “Enough with your games!”

He chuckled, tilting his head until his warm breath against the shell of your ear made you shudder. “Beg,” he whispered.

You scoffed, closing your eyes as his sweet scent washed over you. “Seriously?” 

Asirel hummed, continuing his teasing until you sighed in defeat. 

“Fine, alright,” you said, making him raise his head, a pleased smile on his face as he looked at you. “Please.”

“Please, what?” he quipped, taking full advantage of having you at his mercy.

“Please, boss.”

“So close,” he said in false sympathy, leaning down to continue his play with your senses. 

You would break soon, he knew. He could hear it in the catching of your breath and the noises tumbling from your lips. 

“Fine!” you groaned, “Enough, alright. Please.” He looked at you again, waiting. You huffed. “Please, master,” you mumbled. 

“What was that?” he smirked, “I couldn’t hear you.”

“Fuck you!”

“You, actually,” he said, “Unless you want to stop?”

“Don’t you dare,” you groaned, feeling his smile against your skin.

Asirel sat up, shrugging the remaining clothes from his body before leaning down to kiss you again. “Ask and you shall receive,” he muttered, entering you with slow thrusts until he was buried all the way inside you. 

You moaned at the stretch, closing your eyes again at the feeling of being stuffed full with every roll of his hips. Asirel kept his thrusts steady, wrapping an arm around your back to keep you close and burying his face in your neck to muffle his soft grunts and groans. 

“Fuck,” you gasped as he picked up the pace, the bed squeaking as the quick movement of his hips made you bounce on the mattress. “Shit, ‘sirel!” you mumbled, your fists clenching around nothing as you tried to find something to hold onto. 

He freed his arm from around your back to change position. You mewled as he reached even deeper inside you, hitting your sweet spot over and over as he filled you up. His hand found yours, holding them tightly as a choked moan escaped him. 

You could hear the thundering heartbeat in his chest, matching yours as he continued pounding into you relentlessly. “Look at me,” he gasped, slowing his thrusts until your eyes fluttered open. “I want to see you— ah— I want to look into your eyes.”

“Romantic,” you chuckled, gaze filled with warmth as you looked at him. You squeezed his hand as you shuddered, eyes rolling back as you came with a long moan. 

Asirel followed a moment later, the sight of your blissed-out expression pushing him over the edge. He panted heavily, leaning down to rest his head beside yours and catching his breath.

You smiled, turning your head to kiss his cheek. Asirel hummed, drawing himself up and freeing your wrists a moment later. He rolled off of you slowly, keeping your wrists in his hands and massaging the reddened skin. 

“The ointment I have should work for vampires as well, I think,” he mused tiredly, stifling a yawn. He tried to get up, but you pulled him back against your chest with a firm pull on his waist.

“Later,” you said, resting your head on his shoulder as your arms wrapped around him. His sweet scent made your mouth water in anticipation of his taste. For now though, you were content to have him safely tucked away against your chest. 

He was all yours, after all.

[boatcats]

Stipulations

My heart hurt when Ed got shackled to the rail in S2. I needed them to talk it through as a crew so fic happened.

Ed was not a master in the art of negotiation.

Or, well, that wasn't entirely true. He was great at aggressive negotiation. He was great at negotiation where there was a show of strength (or the illusion of strength) and an opponent forced to decide how much they wanted to risk. He was excellent at the old 'shot across the bow.' He wasn't great at the sort of negotiation where all you had was your earnest heart and a desire to go home.

He hadn't had much practice.

But he had his earnest heart and he wanted to go home so he was going to give it a try.

The crew had let him stay one more night. They'd even seemed chill about it. He really hadn't expected that. Now dawn light was creeping into the galley and in a few hours the crew was going to "figure this all out" as Oluwande had called it and Ed wanted to stay. He wanted to make it up to them. "Captain goes down with the ship" had always really meant "captain takes responsibility" and Ed wasn't captain anymore (was he? he felt a brief jolt of anxiety like a task left undone...no, probably not...). But he still wanted to take responsibility for what he could.

It was just....he had some stipulations.

"Stede," Ed whispered. "Stede wake up."

"Hmmph?" Stede rolled over and Ed was briefly stunned by his sleep tousled hair. God. "What is it, Ed? Are you hurting?" He looked so concerned. G o d.

"No," Ed said, "not really." Though he was hurting some - a mutiny would do that to you. "Not much... medium amount," he amended, trying to be truthful. "I just... the crew's gonna decide about me staying and I want to stay. But I don't want them to shackle me to the rail again." Ed fought down a surge of panic at the thought. "I don't like feeling trapped. It's fine if they want... I don't know, to get a few punches in. That's fair. But no surprise punches. They can do it to my face. I mean like ... they can face me about it... though I guess they can also punch my face. You know what I mean."

Ed was not going to feel trapped and he was not going to feel on edge. Everything else was fair game. But sometime during the night he'd realized he couldn't stay somewhere he didn't feel safe.

What he'd do he didn't know... but he couldn't stay. It was an awful negotiating position that boiled down to "please agree to these requirements or else I'll go back to the woods you banished me to in the first place."

Ed sighed. Then he glanced up and realized Stede looked heartbroken. Fuck.

"It's not you," Ed sighed. "I'd love to stay for you... it's just..." I might not be able to.

"It's not that," Stede said. "I just wish I hadn't. I wish they hadn't. I wish I'd protected you."

"You couldn't," Ed said. "Not exactly captain either, were you? A mutiny will do that. The whole thing about a mutiny is that it blurs who's in charge, blurs who makes decisions. And I knew what I was getting into. Not like I haven't had worse. I just..."

"You don't want it to happen again."

"Yeah."

"It wont. No one's going to punch you either. To your face or otherwise."

Ed smiled. It felt a little wobbly. But he could smile at Stede now. Stede looked so certain. Ed was not at all certain. He was pretty sure he was at least going to get punched. But Stede's optimism had always been appealing (as well as wildly sexy) so what the hell.

--

When Ed heard the crew's stipulations he laughed. A cat bell! He supposed that was fair. He'd maybe played up the sneaking around over the past few months.

But it felt - it felt like like chance to start over. Captain goes down with the ship. Captain incites a mutiny and wears a sackcloth for a while as a promise that he won't hurt his crew again. Yeah, that was fair.

And Stede's face - Stede's face - when he said "they've agreed not to hurt you - no one's going to hurt you on this ship again. You're safe."

I'm here. You're safe.

Yeah, that was.... That was.... yeah, that was... That was a lot. But it was good. Ed was pretty sure it was good.

--

So it came as an awful surprise when Jim found Ed in the shady spot he'd claimed on deck and said "Hey, about shackling you to the rail..."

Because fuck. Fuck. Of course they'd reconsider. It made sense but Ed had trusted them. And the Revenge was kind of a ways from land and maybe they'd give him back the complimentary dinghy. Hopefully they'd give him back the complimentary dinghy. But so much for cohabiting with Stede... that is... if they even let him leave at all. What if...

Apparently all this showed on his face. Because the next thing Jim said was "I think maybe you need to breathe?"

Ed took a shaky breath. "What about it?" he asked. He was pleased that his voice came out reasonably level.

"I'm really sorry we did that."

Wait. What?

"Wait. What?" Ed said.

Jim flushed. "You weren't... you were hurt and... you weren't going to hurt anyone. The rest of the stuff - not gonna apologize for that because it was fully self defense. But that... yeah."

"It's fine," Ed said. "Better to overreact than underestimate someone probably."

"It wasn't fine," Jim insisted. "It's not gonna happen again. We were... we were really jumpy. Roach made us a piñata and a cake and we nearly stabbed him. But still."

"A piñata?"

"Yeah, they wanted to like, blindfold us. To... reassure us we were safe and valued, I think?"

Ed blinked. This fucking crew.

"But yeah," Jim sighed. "You're safe and valued and shit, I guess. I don't have a piñata."

"That's okay," Ed said. "Don't need one."

[st4rfvckerr]

//talk of body dysmorphia

The Glade didn't have any mirrors.

The luxury of knowing what you look like, to truly understand who you are, to stare back at your reflection with the comprehensive knowledge of your existence, had been deemed unnecessary by WICKED.

It never rained, either, the hope for the opportunity to catch a glance of your image in a muddy puddle, your face blurry and distorted but yours nonetheless, ripped away.

At times the inability to grasp the full extent of your character felt like the biggest struggle, the terror of not understanding one's self sometimes greater than the feeling of being trapped. Over the years your personality ended up blurry and indistinct, the constant questioning dying down to a quiet incomprehension. Sometimes you were more afraid of yourself—of who you could be, or not be—than of whoever out here had caused all of this.

Newt had always wondered what he looked like. The thought was more fleeting than constant but it always seemed to bother him, the itching curiosity driving him forward. He'd run his fingers over the curve of his eyebrows, his cheekbones, the crook of his nose where it had been broken by a stray punch, his lips, and map out his features. At first it had been out of pure wonder, nothing more than thirst for the knowledge of his appearance. Soon it became reassurance, the obsessive caress the only promise of his definitive existence. It was ridiculously easy to forget yourself in the Glade.

When he finds out their dorm, out in the Scorch, has mirrors, he's more affected than he would've liked to be.

He'll say that what he was most ecstatic about was the food, the proper beds with actual mattresses and soft cotton bedding, the long, hot shower he got to take. Yet what interests him the most is the mirrors.

He notices them, as soon as he walks into the room, polished glass mounted onto simple metal frames, and it's terrifying. As much as he had accepted the food and accommodations without a second thought, the ordeal of actually taking in his facial features drives terror into his stomach, sharp and agonizing.

It takes him a while to build up the courage to approach it, the idea of it intriguing and alluring, pulling him in, and yet simultaneously horrifying. When he does tentatively stand in front of the glass the whole idea he had made out of himself collapses.

The vision is outlandish, familiar in an unidentified way, like a scenery momentarily reminding you of a childhood dream you once had, and he hates it. It's so wrong, yet so well-known, his skin stretching over his bones in a way he doesn't understand but has felt so many times. His face is distorted and his body blurs at the edges, in the way an illusion would glitch out and prove that it isn't real. Newt doesn't believe he is real. The body he's seeing, all sharp edges and prodding bones, must be another one of WICKED'S freak experiments, the shape alien and absurd. He hates it so much he cannot breathe, discomfort clawing at his throat as he chokes on the urge to itch out of that body and shed his skin. The face in front of him isn't his and he's certain of it, the features he painted out with his fingertips so vastly different from the ones he's discovering now he wonders just how idiotic he must've been to be so wrong. His face is too angular and his nose too thin and Newt wants to claw at his face and smooth out his features until they disappear, melting down into an unrecognizable shape. He feels nauseous watching his image, realizing he had never even begun to understand himself. It's sickening, to know he had lost himself, and he wishes he had never confronted his reflection; the true version of himself he isn't sure belongs to him.

[mjrtaurus]

Sometimes I think about sabo and Dragon getting trapped by a devil fruit that grants a person’s deepest desire.

I think the fruit would end up focusing on dragon instead.

Sabo would wake up in this beautiful world where the celestial dragons don’t exist and the marines are actually fair. And he knows, he knows it isn’t real.

When he finds Dragon, his sort of dad has his head in a semi familiar man’s lap and holding luffy.

“Dragon?” Sabo asks, unsure of the situation.

Dragon cracks an eye, and mutters something under his breath.

And just like that the illusion is gone. There is a fight of course, the user wasn’t happy they were able to escape.

But the whole thing nags at sabo, he’s sure the illusion was for dragon. But if it was, why didn’t dragon just snap out of it to begin with?

Dragon, more than anything, craves peace.

He’s tired of fighting, but he can’t rest until the world changes or it crushes him. He can’t rest, but he wants to.

So when he wakes in this illusion, so perfect and sweet and peaceful, the exhaustion sets in. The heartache sets in.

He knows it’s all a trick, but he just wants to be with his family. Just for a few moments. Even if it isn’t real. He knows he can’t have it in the real world, so he… he can settle for this.

Maybe a lie is the only peace he deserves.

He’s so tired. He’s so, so tired. And their touch is warm and gentle and soothing and how long has it been since he’s been touched?

He lays there, head nestled in his love’s lap, the weight of the child in his arms lulling him to sleep.

Peace.

And when Sabo snaps him out of it, it all shatters.

How dare they…

How dare they play with his heart! How dare they taunt him with what he can never have! How dare they show him just how easy and painless it was to lay down and live a lie! How dare they… how dare they!!!

It’s the first time Sabo has seen him truly, genuinely, uncontrollably angry.

And it’s terrifying.

The fight- if it can even be called that- is as quick as it is vicious. Sabo doesn’t even get a hit in.

He had seen Dragon call down lightning in battle before, but never once had he seen it fall from the sky black and red with Conqueror’s Haki. He can feel the fury clawing the air from his lungs, stealing away awareness at the edges of his vision, deadening the sound that reaches his ears… he barely feels himself hit the ground. Barely feels the blood trickling from the scrape the fall gives him.

When he comes to, Dragon is holding him like he would a child, supporting his weight with one arm and the trunk of his body, head resting atop his shoulder, hand gently cupping the back of it to keep it there.

The first words out of Dragon’s mouth are shaky, like he can’t quite get them out without choking on them. Sabo’s pretty sure he can feel tears soaking through his shirt.

“I hurt you.”

He reeks of ozone. The air reeks of charred flesh. Sabo doesn’t look at what’s left of their foe. What good would it do but to show him just how much grief he already knows his sort of father has locked up in his heart?

[gr4yk]

Colonel Flagg, boy do I have a lot to say about you. A man who's so committed to the military and hanging onto that G.I. image for dear life to the point of literal self-harm. A man whose idea of masculinity is claiming you've trained yourself not to smile. A man who, for all intents and purposes, has been consumed by a system that doesn't give a fuck about him.

The reason that I liken him to Frank Burns a lot is that he's just as much of a propaganda-driven man as the former. The main difference in them lies in the fact that while Frank fails at conventional masculinity and lacks the charisma to actually have a G.I. temperament, Flagg is masculine and charismatic. He's a hunk. Which, I would go so far as to argue makes him an even worse case of a man desperate for purpose. When the war's over, Frank's going to be back to his (mal)practice and to the misery of whatever awaits him in civilian life. It's the shittiest sorry-excuse-for-a-life but it's still a Non-Military Thing He Has. Fake and miserable as it is.

But Flagg? Flagg's CIA. He's part of the damn system. He's deep into it. He, in achieving what Frank couldn't, dug a deeper hole of self-repression and denial for himself. He's barely a person anymore. He talks like a cartoon character hopped up on steroids and squints his eyes like an action movie star trying too hard.

In The Abduction of Margaret Houlihan he shows up and does fucking nothing. Yet somehow maintains this illusion of self-importance. He's silly as damn fucking hell, calling himself the wind and jumping out the damn window only to break his leg. But he genuinely doesn't realize it. And, again, unlike Frank, his self-assurance stops him from even registering it when other people point it out. Hawkeye makes fun of him and he's prissy about it but he doesn't look or feel bullied. Without, at the very least, registering the repulsion others seem to have for you ( which though sometimes evades Frank, is actually intrinsic to his character. He knows they don't like him. ), then how are you meant to improve? How are you meant to escape that trap you've shoved yourself into?

And can we take a moment to talk about his self-harm? Even if subconscious, there must be some part of him that is desperate to escape the life he's paved for himself. A reflection of the horrors he, too, sees both during the war and as a result of CIA conduct. Hurting himself for the sake of the army, the CIA and America™ might be the only way to feel worthwhile and alive at the same time. Just getting hurt, in his eyes, is losing. Doing a "mission" without sustaining any injuries? Why, that's just not noteworthy enough for him to get any attention from big strong Uncle Sam. But getting hurt on a mission? Now that's impressive. Now that's his purpose. Now that's what he should live for and, if all else fails, die for. What wonderful mixture of narcissism AND self-hatred must you have in you, Samuel, to feel that way.

I know this post is all over the place but the point of it is to say that in spite of being a complete and total beefcake, Colonel Samuel Flagg might be M*A*S*H's most pathetic character. Or at least the one who's deepest in his own shit. Unlike Frank, whose development demands an internal trigger to work, Flagg's might just be in dire need of an external one first, because internally he's been programmed to crumble.

[tinybirbwrites]

The Ultimate Strategy (Astarion & Reader)

This is very silly. Set rather early on in the game. Nothing romantic, just silly and fun. Gender neutral reader, no use of y/n, sort of implied player!reader. Sort of graphical description of someone being set on fire? Not too graphic but it happens. 1,6k words.

People would often think you’re stupid—Astarion could tell by the way they looked at you or talked to you. He himself thought you weren’t the brightest of the bunch when he first met you. Ohh, but you weren’t stupid at all. Yes, maybe some logical thinking and some puzzles proved a challenge for you, and sometimes the subtext was too hidden for you to see, but you could read people quite well. You could tell when they were trying to fool you; there was always that little knowing smile on your lips and that glimmer in your eyes when you knew exactly what they were trying to do, and yet you went along anyway to humor them, only to beat them at their own game. 

Sometimes Astarion wondered whether you were a master diviner, someone who dreamed about the future every night, because he swore some things you knew shouldn’t be possible. He would see you buy or collect some strange item and think “how unnecessary,” only to be proven wrong a little while later. 

“Humor me,” he said to you one morning, making you look up from your bowl of leftover food from the evening before. “Why are we collecting these?” Astarion gestured over to the big pile of barrels, each either containing oil, smokepowder, or firewine. Quite hazardous, which is why it was being kept far away from Karlach’s tent. You had insisted on collecting each explosive item you could find and carry it back to camp, and because everyone had grown to trust you, no one argued. Because, just like Astarion, the other companions had also noticed your futuristic insight and fondness for ridiculous yet clever strategies. 

You beamed at him. “I’m so glad you asked, Astarion.” Putting your bowl down for the time being, you instead took a stick and drew some lines into the dirt. “Using your wonderful imagination for a moment here, you would see that this,” you tapped the middle of your drawing, “is the place right outside the grove. You know, where we first encountered the goblins that were attacking the tieflings and humans outside the gate.”

He tilted his head, then went to stand directly behind you to look over your shoulder. “I can sort of see it. What about it?”

“Well, my dear friend,” you turned your head and grinned up at him, waggling your eyebrows. “What if I told you that there will be a big confrontation, and we could easily solve it with the right means.” You nodded towards the barrels. “Just imagine; the whole field, full with explosive barrels. One little bolt of fire and they all go boom.”

Astarion imagined it, and yeah, okay, that sounded like fun alright. “And who are we blowing up, exactly?”

“The goblin army, of course,” you said, as if it was obvious. Noticing his frown, you quickly explained, “Everyone keeps talking about ‘the big goblin problem’ this and ‘the goblin camp’ that. Obviously there will be a confrontation at some point, and I just wanna be prepared for it. We’ll probably find out more once we go to the goblin camp ourselves.”

He raised an eyebrow, partly impressed, partly doubtful. “And, what? We just put barrels all over the field and hope they won’t notice and just walk right into the trap?”

You pursed your lips. “Okay, good point. Either we bury and hide the barrels, or we, uhh… Maybe we could put some illusion spell on them? Surely Gale knows a way.”

Astarion stared at you for a moment. “You’re only thinking about this now? You honestly thought the enemy wouldn’t notice—” he looked over at the pile and roughly estimated the quantity, “thirty-something explosive barrels standing around an open area?”

You cleared your throat and put the stick away to keep eating. “... Maybe. But, hey, thanks to you, we can prepare for it now. Thanks, Astarion.”

He could have made more indignant and snarky comments, could have teased you more, and usually he would have. But your smile was so earnest and genuine and bright, all he could do was make a small noise at the back of his throat and shake his head.

Turned out that Gale did indeed know some good spells to disguise the barrels, by putting an illusion on them to make people think they were something else, like a bush or a piece of wood or a big rock. After a few hours of setting everything up, you declared a job well done and that you all would infiltrate the goblin camp the very next day. 

Again, things worked out more smoothly than Astarion thought.

You’d revealed the grove’s location to the drow, Minthara, much to the other companions’ shock. When Karlach took you aside to question your decision, you had assured her that everything would be fine. “I planned for this, remember? It will all work out, trust me. They won’t step one foot into the grove, I won’t let them.”

Astarion personally didn’t really care either way—he had absolutely not grown fond of the tiefling refugees or any of their thieving children, thank you very much—but he was very much invested in your strange plan at this point.

So when the time came, tieflings and druids warned about the goblin army (with most of the refugees actually preparing for the fight, while the druids hid away like cowards inside the caves) and everyone stood up on the hill by the big horn, and you watched as at least a hundred goblins, big and small, together with their blood hungry pets marched up to the gate, you were confident. Perhaps even a little smug.

Minthara was on higher ground, the hill near the middle of the field, and Astarion remembered how you had insisted on carrying several barrels up there as well, fretting about their exact positions. Again, he was convinced you must have somehow known about this. This couldn’t be just a lucky guess or coincidence. 

Some of the goblins even carried little explosive barrels on their backs, which were lit up like a bomb as they ran towards the gate to blow it up. Before they could get any closer, you had already given Astarion the order to shoot the fucker down and let it explode next to one of your own hidden barrels. 

He held his breath, and everyone watched as the chaos unfolded so very beautifully. It was a wonderful and perfect chainreaction; one barrel exploded, immediately setting off the next, and then the next, the fire and explosions taking all of the goblins with it. Before Minthara could react, you quickly told Gale to throw a firebolt at one of the hidden barrels near her position as well. It hit, and Minthara was soon blown off the hill and hit the oil-covered ground. She screamed as she was burned alive, trying to put herself out and sort of succeeding. 

“Karlach, Wyll, can you take her?” you asked. 

“Thought you’d never ask,” Karlach growled, taking her greataxe in hand. 

“With pleasure,” Wyll nodded, drawing his own weapon. Again, under your command, they drank a Feather Fall potion to jump down, and Gale used some spells to put out the flames so neither of them would get burned to a crisp. They were resistant to fire, but not immune, and everyone knew you didn’t want your friends to get hurt. 

With fresh burns and wounds all over and her ears ringing from the explosions, Minthara could barely put up a fight. She tried, of course, and she did better than most in her position would have been able to. But with both Wyll and Karlach, still at full health and energized, she didn’t stand a chance. Merely a minute or two later, Minthara was dead. The tieflings cheered loudly, some patting you on the back while Astarion did his best to avoid the praise. The gate was opened to let Wyll and Karlach back inside, and you laughed as you were hugged and picked up by several people (sadly, Karlach still couldn’t touch anyone, otherwise she would have probably done the same). 

“That was incredible!” Zevlor laughed. “We barely even had to do anything, and not one of us got hurt!”

Later on, as you cleaned up the battlefield a little with some others, looting the goblin corpses, you eyed Minthara’s armor, then looked up at Astarion with a critical eye.

“What?” he asked, crossing his arms defensively. 

“Do you think this would fit your frame?” You gestured at the armor—it was rather beautiful, golden and dark gray, the shapes of the plates reminiscent of spiderwebs, fitting for a Lolth-sworn drow like her. 

“Maybe,” Astarion said slowly. “Why? You want me to wear it?”

You shrugged. “I think it would suit you nicely. If you want it, it’s all yours. Maybe Dammon could modify it a little if it doesn’t fit, before he leaves the grove.”

Astarion looked down at what he was wearing now—armor mostly made out of leather, good for stealth, but not the most fashionable, in his humble opinion. Then he looked back to Minthara’s corpse, humming thoughtfully. “Oh, by the Hells, why not? But I want it thoroughly cleaned, I can still smell the smoke and oil all over it.” 

You grinned. “It looks so good, right? I kept eyeing it when we first met her.” 

Reluctantly, Astarion relented. “Well, you’re not wrong.” Hesitantly, he asked, “You really think it will suit me?” He wasn’t self-conscious about his looks, of course. He just hadn’t seen his own reflection in quite some time, and he barely had any idea what colors suited him now. Though he supposed he was doing something right, because most people still swooned when they saw him—including even you.

You nodded eagerly. “Yes, trust me. Gold, silver, black, red, blue… all of it would suit you. I think you could make any color work, if done right. But this armor is just… perfect for you.”

Astarion did not blush—he wasn’t even sure if he physically could. But whatever the case, Astarion didn’t blush, ever, for anyone or anything. Absolutely not.

[leonenjoyer69]

Not sure if you have much left in you But- *Ramble Card* You will be bombarded at least one more time, By me. Today. Right now.

AFTER WEEKS THE RAMBLE GODS HAVE ALLOWED ME TO ANSWER THIS, SO I PRESENT A LORE DROP FOR WHOLE JEKYLL, MY LITTLE GUY HARRY, BC I'VE BEEN NEGLECTING HIM 💔💔 SO!!! LONG RAMBLE/INFO DUMP UNDER THE CUT >:3

OKAY SO, WHOLE JEKYLL, RIGHT? HARRY? MY LITTLE GUY? Basically a combined/whole (wow how well I named him) Jekyll (technincally he IS the original Jekyll, but yeah) with more steps and extra trauma 🥰 originally he was just gonna stay trapped in the mind and such, but hey, with everything going on in the comic rn I think he can totally break out, and the wonderful @lesbianturrets (ILY CHARLIE) keeps inadvertently giving me such great ideas! (Also I may have made art of Harry gaining control on a whim, ill share that once it's done >:3)

Yeah, he eventually gains control (sometime during chapter 15, probably after Jekyll recouncils with Frankenstein, bc that kinda breaks the mind Frankenstein-- just like what happened to Mind Lanyon-- and then a transformation happens where Harry, Among the Mindscape that's been collapsing for days, is finally able to get control.) Said transformation happens and from the mirror Jekyll tells Hyde to "give it a rest already because there's nothing that he can do" and then Hyde pops up in the mirror beside him and is basically like "mf that ain't me!!" (Man I really wanna draw this) Cue confusion and more chaos because then who is in control right now? Meanwhile, a body that looks MOSTLY like Jekyll is freaking tf out, mumbling in Scots and trying to get his bearings bc holy shit he's real again. Jekyll and Hyde both try to talk to this guy but he's completely ignoring them, and after a bit of trying to regain control, Jekyll and Hyde eventually dip into the Mindscape to discuss things and figure out who tf that is.

Meanwhile, now that Harry is in control, he's gotta deal with everything going on. Lanyon shows up and begins trying to get in, to which Harry pleads (with his scots accent, further concerning Lanyon) for him not to come in, and that everything's alright. Once Lanyon does get in, Harry has to use the excuse of a potion falling on him to explain his hair and eyes. Harry's forced to go out and deescalate and fix everything, jumpy and paranoid af. (Bonus points, after fixing everything and finally being able to "settle down" for the day he apologizes profusely to Lanyon about leaving him and shit.) Harry's main goal now is to keep control (he avoids sleeping as much as he can, though Lanyon certainly has something to say and do about that) and find a way to reverse the formula, which he'll probably try to get help with from Frankenstein.

Also!! While Harry's real and in control, he can still vaguely see the strings, but no one else can. They're basically an illusion, like the nightmare creatures (which he still has to deal with, though he's somewhat more used to them) and he can still feel them tug and such, but can resist the pulling. When Jekyll and/or Hyde fight really hard for control, Harry's heart also goes crazy, like Jekylls did during the exhibition. ADDITIONALLY, Harry is also VERY sensitive to physical sensations, since he's been trapped in the mind so long with most all feeling numbed, he's practically hypersensitive now. (Bonus points, he seeks out physical contact a lot from Lanyon, since it brings him an all-encompasing warmth and somewhat calms him, LET THEM BE HAPPY AND GAY!!)

In the Mindscape, Jekyll and Hyde probably find Harry's journal(s) and figure out that they're BOTH incomplete pieces, and that this "Harry" is their whole version. Like, you know how you can delete a path on a computer and it won't know how to get to that file any more, despite it still being there? And you have to physically tell it again where it is? Yeah, Well the path to Jekylls whole, completed state has been reestablished.

Anyways, they'll probably fight or talk for a while, wander around the Mindscape looking for ways to get out/gain control again (bonus points if they let the nightmares out again) (more bonus points if Jekyll finds his silly whiteboard again and starts doing his little thing, while Hyde groans and complains the whole time).

Eventually they do get back to the consciousness and are able to hang out in mirrors and such again. Harry actually talks to them this time bc he's alone, about what, you may ask? Idk lmao. Harry's already mostly fixed things for the day and is pouring over research books again, pages of messy writing already covering the table. Probably tells them that he intends on reversing the potion because he can't keep living trapped, split into two halves that won't stop fighting.

Anyways!!!! Thank you for the ramble card teehee, just took me literal weeks to think of something to ramble about 💀💀 BUT!! IF ANYONE WANTS TO ASK ANYTHING SPECIFIC ABOUT HARRY (OR ELIAS) PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DON'T HESITATE, I LOVE MY BABIES AND I NEED TO STOP NEGLECTING THEM <333

[stripedgrace]

chapter 6 sneak peek: Fig's plan

so I'm late to update. hoping to post soon, aiming for the end of august but yeah. this will is be late again. a few of the scenes are giving me a really hard time, scenes that need to happen to keep the chapter on track. so woohooo.

anyway, because of the delay, I figured I post a small sneak peek of what is to come, just to give all something to naw at while chipped away at the remaining parts.

enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Of all the adjectives Fig could use to describe herself, trusting was not one of them.

Oh sure, once someone earned that trust, she’d do just about anything for them. But for most people? Unlike her friends, Fig was always suspicious first and loyal later.

Which made it very frustrating when she had a feeling she couldn't prove.

Sure, sure, Fig could admit that sometimes her aim was faulty. Kathilda and Ragh were proof enough. But most of the time, she was right on the money. Goldenrod, Penelope, and even Porter. Her instincts didn’t lie.

And while most of these strangers were perfectly fine, Fig knew a bad apple when she saw one. And that fucking gnome was nothing but rotten. Scanlan could pretend all he wanted, could convince everyone else otherwise, it didn't matter. Fig knew without a doubt that he’s bitter and cruel. An angry man who would kill Riz the moment he could get away with it. Her friends could think she was crazy, try to tell her “Oh it’s about the gun! They didn’t mean to attack us Fig! Don’t worry about it,” bullshit. Bullshit.

Fig knows better. She sees his intentions as clear as day. But she also knows how clever he is. How convincing he could be. If the only thing she had was her word, he would surely win. He already gained the upper hand, preemptively twisting the narrative to serve as his shield, leaving Fig scrambling to catch up.

The writing was already on the wall, nothing she did could change that. So, the only thing left to do is wait.

Because if they were really as alike as Fig thought they were, it was only a matter of time before Scanlan slipped up. And when he did, she’d be ready.

But for now, there were other matters at hand. Problems bigger than a racist gnome with a silver tongue.

Like how they were universes away from home, unsure of the possibility of ever returning. Like how they vanished in the middle of nowhere, trapped in a collapsing cave system, unable to reach out. Like how right before the circle activated, Fig swore she heard Ayda screaming her name. Ayda who might be trapped down there right now, looking for her, thinking Fig to be dead, becoming more and more stuck as she refuses to leave behind-

Fig digs her nails into her arm. Nope. She isn’t gonna think about that right now. Not when they’re in the midst of hunting basilisks, mentally arguing over strategy. She needed to focus.

Ayda would be fine. She had to be.

Stretching out her arms, Fig fakes a yawn, taking a careful look at adults behind them. As she thought, their expressions hadn’t changed, each intently watching. Vax, his look-alike, and the white man were all muttering quietly to each other, likely making alternate plans. Keyleth walked quietly alongside the Tall-guy and the two gnomes lagged at the very back. Occasionally, a comment would get just loud enough for her to make out.

“-ier not talkin-“

“-dy have a plan?”

“-bad feeling-“

She smirked and looked away. They really didn’t have a clue, did they?

Good. If they wanted to pull this off, they needed every advantage they could get.

Stealing her nerves, Fig flings herself back into the link, catching the tail end of Fabian’s thought.

‘-d then, they’ll charge Adaine’s illusion, and while their distracted, we will jump down, kill them an-.’

‘For last time, I didn’t prepare Major Image today, that’s not gonna work.’

‘And that’s still not gonna solve the problem of having to look at the basilisks.’ Gorgug adds. 

Riz sighs. ‘No matter which way we slice it, I think we're gonna need to look at them. If we want to get this done fast, we need to see where we're hitting.’

‘Yeah but turning into stone will do us no favors.’ Adaine argues.

‘Well Kristen has her staff. That'll do it.’ says Fabian.

Kristen groans. ‘That trick could only work twice, otherwise it's just me actually casting Greater Restoration, and I only have two 5th level slots.’

‘Unless we get help.’ states Gorgug.

Fig could hear Adaine roll her eyes. ‘We're not getting their help,’ she replies, ‘We can't. If we insinuate that we need help, all of this planning would be worthless. They would rub it in our faces and this ploy to show them that we’re capable would fall apart in an instant.’ 

Theres a pause before Riz sums it up best. ‘Okay then. We get four mistakes. Anymore and we're screwed.’

‘If I throw down Faerie Fire, it'll be easier to hit them.’ Fabian comments.

‘And some of my spells don't require direct sight.’ Adaine adds, ‘I could throw a Lightning Bolt and not have to worry about becoming stone.’

‘And you could incorrectly aim and hit one of us.’ retorts Kristen.

‘I mean maybe.’

‘I don't know.’ says Riz, ‘It's a solid start but it's not a guarantee. The best-case scenario would be to look at them and not have to worry about the effect at all.’

‘Could we blind them maybe?’ Gorgug asks. ‘You could do that right?’

‘I could,’ says Kristen, ‘But that's not gonna do much. It's not a problem if they see us, it's if we see them.’

Finally, Fig speaks, an idea growing in her mind, ‘I think Riz is right. If we don't look at them, we won't have to worry about the paralysis. But we're not going for the most optimal strategy right? We're trying to show off.

‘Yes?’ replies Riz.

Adaine lights up, ‘Oh do you have a plan. You sound like you have a plan. Please tell me you have a plan.’

‘Maybe?’ Fig lets her smile show as she pulls a small coin-like item from her bag. Flashing it at her friends, she asks, ‘Who here feels like putting on a performance?’

[atommadly]

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝

Pairing: EoWells x Reader Warnings: hurt, blood, kidnapping, but with fluff

𝘈𝘴 𝘌𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘥'𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘳, 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥.

Masterlist

The hum of fluorescent lights buzzed faintly as you sat on the worn couch of the small apartment Eobard had trapped you in—or rather, relocated you to. It was strange to think of it as “relocated” when it had all started with chains and threats. What had begun as a damp, dark cell buried somewhere in STAR Labs had slowly evolved into this oddly comfortable space. The first time you’d been moved here, the apartment felt just as much a prison as the cell. It didn’t matter that it had four walls, a small kitchen, and even a window with an actual view.

You were still a prisoner.

And yet, over time, it had become… livable. The furniture, though sparse, was comfortable. Shelves that had once stood bare now held books you enjoyed, courtesy of Eobard. A few of your favorite snacks regularly appeared in the kitchen as if by magic—or rather, by speedster sleight of hand. Even the window, which you initially suspected was part of some illusion, was real. You’d tested it enough times to know the breeze and the view of the city skyline were genuine.

This wasn’t freedom, but it wasn’t the nightmare you’d been trapped in before either.

You sighed, flipping through a book you weren’t really reading, the words blurring together as your mind wandered. How had you ended up here? The question haunted you more often than not. It all went back to that fateful day when you’d stumbled into STAR Labs unannounced, looking for Harrison Wells.

Only it hadn’t been Harrison Wells you found.

You had no idea what you were walking into. When you pushed open the lab doors without knocking, you weren’t expecting to see Wells—paralyzed, wheelchair-bound Harrison Wells—standing on his own two feet, perfectly healed. It wasn’t just his posture or the sharpness in his movements; it was the cold, calculating way his gaze locked onto you. That was the first time you saw Eobard Thawne for what he really was.

You remembered the panic that surged through you, the questions that spilled out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. He had answered them calmly at first, his voice eerily steady, until he realized you weren’t just going to walk away. You were a risk—a wildcard he hadn’t planned for.

The memory of him closing the distance between you in a blur of yellow still made your stomach churn. He grabbed your wrist in a vice-like grip and whispered something chillingly simple:

“You’ve seen too much.”

That was the moment your life changed. He’d given you an ultimatum: help him with his plan, or die. Those were his words—clinical, unemotional. He made it clear he didn’t have time for loose ends, and you were a loose end. You hated the way you’d agreed so quickly, the way survival instincts overrode everything else.

In the beginning, he treated you like a nuisance, barking orders and watching you like a hawk. Your work was simple but necessary: assist in maintaining the façade of STAR Labs while subtly ensuring Barry Allen’s progress as the Flash. Eobard made it clear that every detail mattered; if you jeopardized his plans, you’d regret it.

And for a while, you did hate him. Truly. There was no room for nuance in those early days, only fear and anger.

But then the cracks began to show.

It started small. He brought you a book one day, something he thought you’d like based on an offhand comment you’d made weeks earlier. He didn’t explain himself, just tossed it onto the table and walked away. Another time, you complained about the constant buzzing of the fluorescent lights, and the next day, they were replaced with softer, warmer bulbs.

The threats became less frequent. The anger in his tone dulled to sarcasm. Sometimes, he even listened to you—not just about work, but about your opinions, your thoughts. It was unnerving, watching the man who once threatened to kill you offer a rare smirk at one of your sarcastic remarks.

You hated how complicated your feelings had become.

Eobard Thawne—your kidnapper, liar, and all-around villain—had somehow wormed his way into a corner of your heart. And you hated it.

You saw glimpses of the man beneath the yellow suit—the man who could be charming, intelligent, and even kind when he let his guard down. Those moments were rare, but they were enough to keep your anger from burning as hot as it used to.

What infuriated you most was how much he confused you. He was still the villain, still the man who’d stolen your freedom and upended your life. But every so often, he’d surprise you with something small—an act of consideration, a moment of vulnerability—and it left you questioning everything you thought you knew about him.

And then there were the nights when he didn’t leave.

Sometimes, after discussing the latest part of his plan, he lingered. He’d sit in the armchair across from you, nursing a glass of wine as he stared out the window. He never said much during those moments, but the silence spoke volumes. It was as though, in those quiet hours, he wasn’t the Reverse-Flash. He was just Eobard, a man burdened by his own choices.

You sighed again, closing the book in your lap. No matter how much you tried to push it down, the truth was clear. You didn’t hate him—not anymore. And that terrified you.

The sudden crackle of electricity shattered the silence, jerking you from your thoughts. A yellow blur careened through the apartment door, slamming into the floor with a heavy, sickening thud. The impact rattled the entire room, and your heart leapt into your throat.

“Eobard?” you called out, panic lacing your voice as you shot to your feet.

The sight that greeted you froze you in place for a split second. The Reverse-Flash—Eobard Thawne—lay sprawled on the ground, his signature yellow suit torn to shreds, the fabric streaked with blood. His breathing was harsh and uneven, each rise and fall of his chest a battle against the pain he was clearly trying to suppress.

He groaned, his face contorted in frustration and agony as he tried to push himself off the floor. But his body betrayed him, collapsing back down in a heap.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, rushing to his side. Kneeling down, you reached for his shoulder, but his sharp, venomous glare stopped you cold.

“I don’t need your pity,” he hissed through clenched teeth, the venom in his tone barely masking his pain.

“Good,” you shot back, your voice firmer than you felt. “Because I wasn’t offering.”

You slid an arm under his shoulder, ignoring his feeble attempt to shrug you off. “You can yell at me later, Eobard. Right now, you’re bleeding all over my floor, and you’re going to let me help you.”

He groaned, but there was no fight left in his movements as you hefted him up, his arm slung heavily over your shoulder. He stumbled, his weight dragging against you, and every groan of pain that escaped his lips sent a chill down your spine. You guided him to the sofa as quickly as you could without making his injuries worse.

As he collapsed onto the cushions, his head lolled back, sweat glistening on his pale forehead. You raced to the bathroom, practically tearing the cabinet apart to grab towels and the emergency kit he’d so ominously provided when you first moved in. You had always wondered why your kidnapper—villain, nemesis, whatever he was—thought to stock it. Now you were thankful for his foresight.

When you returned, Eobard’s eyes cracked open, his gaze sharper despite the pain.

"What the hell happened?"

“Oh, so now you care?” he sneered, though the bite in his tone lacked its usual edge.

“How can you be so smart yet so dumb at the same time?” you countered, setting the kit and towels on the coffee table.

You knelt beside him and began unzipping his suit carefully. The damage beneath was worse than you had expected. Blood soaked through his undershirt, a jagged gash slicing across his ribs, the edges swollen and raw. His normally pale skin had taken on a grayish hue, and his breaths were shallow, almost wheezing.

“You look ridiculous in that outfit, by the way,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. Sarcasm was your shield, the only thing keeping the panic in your chest from spilling over.

He scoffed faintly, though the sound was more air than substance. His lips twitched, almost forming a smirk, but it didn’t last.

“If you die,” you continued, grabbing a clean towel and pressing it against his wound to staunch the bleeding, “I swear I’ll kill you.”

“Charming,” he rasped, though his eyes fluttered shut as if he couldn’t stay awake.

“Don’t even think about passing out,” you snapped, panic sharpening your tone as you gave his cheek a light slap. “No passing out on me, Eobard. I am not scrubbing your blood out of this couch.”

With a reluctant groan, he opened his eyes again, hazy but focused enough to hold your gaze. “You have an odd sense of priorities,” he muttered weakly.

“Stay awake,” you insisted, your hands moving quickly but carefully as you cleaned the wound. The metallic tang of blood hung heavy in the air, but you refused to let it faze you. “I need you conscious so I can yell at you properly for being a stubborn idiot once this is over.”

He huffed a weak laugh, though it turned into a grimace as pain shot through him. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve survived worse.”

“You sure about that?” you shot back, pressing down firmly on the towel to stem the bleeding. He hissed in pain, and you softened, brushing a damp strand of hair from his forehead. “You’re not invincible, Eobard. And as much as it pains me to admit it, I’d rather not watch you bleed out in my living room.”

His gaze softened for a fraction of a second, his usual scowl melting into something you couldn’t quite read. Vulnerability wasn’t something you often saw from him, but in that moment, it was there, fleeting but undeniable.

“Why do you care?” he asked quietly, his voice raw in a way that wasn’t entirely from the pain.

You hesitated, your hands stilling for just a moment. “Because, you idiot,” you murmured, focusing on cleaning the wound, “for some insane, inexplicable reason… I do.”

He stared at you, his breath catching for a moment before he closed his eyes again, too exhausted to argue. For once, Eobard Thawne didn’t have a retort, and the silence between you spoke louder than words ever could.

“Stay with me,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him, as you worked to patch him up. Because no matter how complicated your feelings were, the idea of losing him terrified you more than you could admit.

You worked diligently to clean and dress his wound, trying not to let your hands tremble. He didn’t say another word, his breathing shallow but steady as he lay back on the couch. You tried not to dwell on the quiet vulnerability in his eyes when he had asked why you cared. It lingered in your chest, leaving an ache you couldn’t quite shake.

After what felt like an eternity, you finished wrapping his ribs. The bleeding had slowed to a manageable level, but his exhaustion was evident in the slump of his shoulders and the pallor of his skin. You sat back on your heels, taking a moment to steady yourself.

“There,” you murmured, wiping your hands on a towel. “You’ll live. Not that you deserve to, considering how reckless you are.”

He cracked one eye open, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Always a ray of sunshine,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

You huffed, leaning back against the coffee table. “You’re welcome, by the way. For, you know, saving your sorry ass.”

Eobard didn’t reply right away. Instead, he shifted slightly on the couch, wincing as he adjusted to a more comfortable position. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it.

“You shouldn’t care about me.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but you managed to keep your expression neutral. “Thanks for the advice, Captain Obvious. But I think we’ve established I’m not great at listening.”

He turned his head to look at you, his gaze piercing despite his exhaustion. “I’m serious. You caring… it’s dangerous. For you.”

“And yet here we are,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’re bleeding out in my living room, and I’m the one making sure you don’t die. So maybe you should stop telling me what I should or shouldn’t feel.”

He stared at you for a long moment, something unspoken flickering in his eyes. It was a vulnerability you’d only caught glimpses of before, but now it was laid bare between you, impossible to ignore.

“I didn’t plan for this,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “Any of it. You. Us.”

“Us?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Is that what this is?”

His lips pressed into a thin line, as if he regretted the slip. But instead of retreating into his usual walls of sarcasm and disdain, he sighed, the tension in his body easing just a fraction.

“Call it whatever you want,” he said. “But you’re the only person who’s ever seen me for what I really am and stayed.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a heavy blanket, and for once, you didn’t deflect. You met his gaze head-on, letting the emotions you’d been burying for so long rise to the surface.

“Well, maybe I’m just as reckless as you are,” you said softly.

His expression shifted, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Reckless doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

For a moment, the air between you felt fragile, as if one wrong word could shatter whatever fragile understanding had formed. But then, as if making a decision, Eobard reached out, his hand brushing against yours.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice rough but sincere. “For… everything.”

You squeezed his hand lightly, a small smile breaking through your usual defenses. “Don’t get used to it. You’re still an infuriating pain in the ass.”

“And you’re impossible,” he countered, though the warmth in his tone took the sting out of his words.

Despite the lingering tension, a quiet understanding passed between you. The lines between captor and captive, villain and ally, had blurred beyond recognition. And while the future remained uncertain, for the first time, it didn’t feel so terrifying.

You leaned back, exhaustion settling in as the adrenaline of the moment began to fade. Eobard’s breathing evened out, his eyes drifting shut as sleep finally claimed him. You watched him for a moment, your heart heavy but strangely calm.

Whatever came next, you knew one thing for certain: neither of you could go back to what you were before. And maybe, just maybe, that was okay.

[swordfright]

I want to know about the ouroboros AUs very badly

The amount of words I'm about to type is gonna make me look INSANE but in my defense I had to think about this every day for like a YEAR OKAY.

Island AU Spiderette AU: This AU operates on the premise that the Vault considers any structure c!Sam builds with the intent to imprison someone as an extension of Pandora — an extra limb. In Ouroboros, Sam was planning to kidnap Michael and keep him at the island house in order to lure Ranboo to the prison (as in canon), but he doesn’t have a chance to actually go through with that plan because he gets distracted by, y’know, Pandora becoming a sentient eldritch horror. So basically, Island AU diverges from Ouroboros in the final chapter. When Dream fakes a suicide attempt to force the Vault to spit him and Sam out, Pandora doesn’t dump them in the prison lobby…it dumps them in Sam’s island house. Essentially, the Vault considers that house (which Sam intended to keep Michael in, ostensibly as a hostage) to be a type of prison, and thus, an extension of Pandora’s Vault. So, Sam takes the only course of action that makes sense to him: he treats Dream’s injuries and officially incarcerates him in the island house. It’s supposed to be temporary, but after a while Sam is resigned to the possibility that he may never return Dream to Pandora Proper. And y’know what? This is fine! This is fine, actually. Dream is still his prisoner, Sam can still be warden here.

In the beginning, the situation is very similar to his and Dream’s dynamic in Pandora. Sam keeps Dream in the little room meant for Michael. The house isn’t really set up for full-on incarceration, so Sam has to make modifications. He can’t exactly install a lava chamber, but he adds chains to the walls so he can keep the prisoner secure. Michael’s room doesn’t have space to add a desk or a cauldron or a toilet, so Dream must be permitted to leave a couple times a day. Dream moves around the house with Sam’s permission and occasionally helps with chores/maintenance/daily tasks (a freedom which Sam justifies as “prison labor” lmfao)

After a while, the two of them fall into a bizarre domesticity: they are essentially cohabiting, but Dream is still Sam’s prisoner and Sam is still Dream’s warden. It’s weird. It’s tense and awful, but it’s also kind of okay sometimes, compared to the prison. Dream eventually hatches a plan to escape, but things get complicated. Honestly, a lot of the “plot” for this AU hinges on the idea of Pandora’s sentience, and the fact that people in-the-know can basically fast-travel between buildings on the server as long as those buildings are limbs of Pandora. It gets very technical so I won’t bore y’all with all that.

Ouroboros Extended Cut AU: In this AU, c!Dream does not attempt to fake his own suicide in order to force Pandora to release him, as he does in Ouroboros. The idea occurs to him, but he has extreme reservations about actually going through with it: what if the plan works too well and he actually kills himself? These reservations aren’t unfounded, given the intense anxieties he has surrounding death in canon. Sam can’t revive him because he has not given Sam the book. So basically, Sam and Dream spend way, way, wayyyy longer trapped inside the prison. I’m talking at least another year or two. And the longer they spend there, the weirder shit gets. This AU leans really heavily into the horror elements of Ouroboros. Dream eventually figures out how to communicate effectively with the Vault. Sam also communicates with the Vault, but far less effectively because he’s Sam and he fucking sucks. There’s plenty of bizarre space-time continuum stuff. Also, the prison gets really good at recreating illusions of people who have spent a lot of time in the Vault in the past. The strongest illusions are capable of speech and sometimes even conversation, though they appear to have a limited variety of possible responses. Quackity is one of those people, but it’s Tommy’s illusion that’s the strongest because he wasn’t just resurrected inside Pandora (like Ghostbur), he actually died there as well.

As things get more horrifying inside the Vault, Sam and Dream become progressively more desensitized to that horror; it changes their dynamic somewhat, because they have to be pragmatic as hell if they want to make it out one day. The Vault wants to keep them alive, and yet is fundamentally hostile to living. Dream is allowed way more freedom (under Sam’s supervision) for reasons of mutual survival. He and Sam become more codependent. I probably will never write this AU down, but if I did, I’d want to incorporate a bunch of minecraft gameplay and environment elements from the big spooky 1.17 Caves & Cliffs update: the warden creatures, the ruins, the Deep Dark biome, the skulk, etc.

Timewarp AU: One of the big decisions I had to make when writing Ouroboros was whether time inside the prison should pass at the same rate as time passes outside the prison. If you’ve read the fic, you know that time inside the Vault passes slower after the prison gains sentience, so Sam and Dream spend months in there but only a few days have passed in the outside world. However, if I’d decided to have time pass in the prison at the same rate it passes on the rest of the server, that would mean Dream completely misses Techno’s rescue. In this AU, Techno shows up on 11/28 to break Dream out and finds the prison seemingly abandoned. After having a thorough look around, he leaves. His thought process: Dream must’ve found some other way to escape! Makes sense! If escape was possible, why would he wait for Techno?

Because of this, when Dream pulls his fake suicide stunt and forces the Vault to spit them out, his incarceration continues as normal because he missed the jailbreak. Ngl, this AU is pretty bleak because Dream is alone and locked up for a much longer period than in canon. (I actually ended up NOT going with this option when writing Ouroboros because my good friend aaron ringenthusiast told me very plainly that any version of events where Dream misses Techno’s big rescue was too depressing to contemplate!) 

Eventually the Syndicate get suspicious, of course. It’s been over six months since the failed jailbreak and if Dream really did escape prior to that, it’s weird that he hasn’t tried to contact Techno or reach out to any other Syndicate members…right? Eventually, Phil and Techno are contacted by Punz, who’s forced to out themself as Dream’s ally because they haven’t heard from Dream in an alarming amount of time and are frankly confused. Tbh, I haven’t decided where this AU goes after that, but I think it’d be neat if Dream still gets rescued or maybe even escapes Pandora by himself somehow. I'm fond of stories where Dream is ultimately the one to save himself.

The final AU is Amnesia Island. It’s similar to Island AU Spiderette in that after the events of Ouroboros, Sam manages to move Dream from Pandora onto his island and imprisons him there. However, Dream is in really bad shape. In this version of events, his suicide fake-out was unsuccessful in that he accidentally does kill himself. The Vault still spits them out, but the blood transfusion comes too late and it looks like Dream is actually gonna die – bummer! That’s not what either of them wanted! Luckily, Sam has a secret: he’s already created a clone of Dream’s body (without his consent or knowledge, because of course.) So when Sam realizes Dream is gonna die FR fr, he uses the power of (canonical!) cool awesome unethical science to transfer Dream’s mind to the new body just before Dream dies. This all happens in the triage ward in Pandora. After the process is complete, he whisks his prisoner away to the island. 

All should be well, theoretically. Except, uh oh! When Dream wakes up in his new body, he…isn’t Dream. At least, he isn’t Sam’s Dream. Something went wrong, either with the cloning process or the transfer of consciousness. New Dream has clearly got the same personality as old Dream, but minus the traumas he’s recently acquired. Huge chunks of his memory seem to be gone. He doesn’t recall who he is, who Sam is, L’Manberg, the Disc Saga, any of the events of the past couple years. It’s all gone.

Sam’s reaction to the amnesia is…messy. First, he doesn’t believe Dream, thinks he’s faking it. It takes an unpleasant interrogation to finally convince Sam that Dream really doesn’t remember anything. After denial comes anger: this version of Dream is both familiar and alien; he reminds Sam more of the man who built the Community House than the prisoner! Which means all the time and effort Sam spent conditioning the prisoner to fear him and respect him and obey him is wasted. Sam gave up parts of his soul for that deference, that submission. And now it’s just gone. He’s not happy about it. Next comes the bargaining, and finally, acceptance, or something that passes for acceptance until you hold it up to the light. According to Sam’s worldview, Dream is fundamentally corrupt. Even if amnesiac Dream doesn’t remember doing terrible things, he still did them, right? Which means Sam still has a responsibility to keep him locked up. The warden is still needed! This is a huge source of relief, since it preserves Sam’s self-concept.

Only…the situation is a bit more convoluted now. No version of Dream is innocent in Sam’s eyes, which means amnesiac Dream cannot be innocent. But the amnesia complicates things. For one, this Dream doesn’t have nearly as many reasons to fear and hate Sam, which means he’s openly affectionate — helpful, even. Sam appreciates that, and his appreciation throws a wrench in his plan to reincarcerate the prisoner. This is post-Ouroboros Sam, so he is aware on some level that he loves Dream, though he perceives that love as an unforgivable weakness. Not to mention he and Dream have been sleeping together for months and Sam misses that. Given these compounding factors, Sam opts not to punish Dream as frequently or as harshly as he did when they were in Pandora. It’s not that he regrets his former treatment of Dream (after all, Sam has never had any qualms about treating a lover sternly, has he?) but he does have a vested interest in encouraging Dream’s affection. He wants Dream to be obedient, and obedience is an easier thing to offer when you think you’re in love. So Sam does what he has to: he lies.

He doesn’t exactly tell Dream the two of them are married, not quite, but it’s heavily implied. Sam does everything he can to avoid verbally defining their relationship in such clear terms, while simultaneously doing all he can to make Dream believe that the two of them are in an established, committed relationship. It’s not so far from the truth, Sam tells himself. After all, what is the relationship between warden and prisoner if not committed?

In short, their life together on the island is fucked upppp. The two of them cohabitate and eventually resume sleeping together. Dream is not allowed to leave the house without Sam’s supervision, and he’s never allowed near the shoreline under any circumstances. He’s not allowed to send or receive letters or communications of any kind. Dream’s also forbidden from touching or picking up weapons and tools, lest he use them to harm someone (or himself. Sam has nightmares about watching Dream stab himself in Ouroboros.) The list of rules goes on, and the consequences for breaking them are…varied and creative. Dream understands, on some level, that Sam hurts him, that being around Sam is frightening and stressful. But Sam is also his partner, a man Dream thinks he loves. A man he feels comfortable with, sometimes. Dream has been told in simple terms that he’s dangerous, that he needs the warden’s guidance in order to keep everyone else safe. Dream doesn’t remember who “everyone else” is, but he has no reason to wish them ill, whoever they are. So he’s also grateful, in that sense, that Sam is willing to help him not hurt people. It is a gratitude that Sam has manufactured entirely, but it’s a powerful force nonetheless. 

So, in summary, they’re codependent as hell and their life together is scary and bad. Don’t worry, it gets better but first it gets worse. As time passes, Dream feels more and more often that the way Sam treats him is unfair, which is objectively true. He has misgivings, but with very few concrete memories to base them on, these misgivings don’t serve him particularly well. However, after about a year of island living, his memories do start to come back gradually. This creates problems. Sam is quite happy with their new arrangement, so Dream’s memories coming back is a nightmare scenario for him. When he begins to notice little clues, it makes him incredibly paranoid, which in turn causes him to act…rashly. There is one notable incident where a bird dies by accidentally flying smack into a window, as birds sometimes do. Dream calmly picks it up and steps around the back of the house to bury it in the garden. But when Sam comes to check on him a few minutes later, he finds the bird alive and flapping, as if it was never hurt. Dream tells Sam he doesn’t remember how he brought the bird back to life; he can’t explain it, he just knew. Sam doesn’t believe him. It’s a rough night.

Of all the AUs, Amnesia Island is probably the one that’s rotted my brain the worst. It's definitely the most detailed so I could probably go on about it forever, but this post is already way too long so I’ll conclude by adding that in none of these AUs does Dream ever cave and give Sam the revive book. He’s holding onto that motherfucker, always and forever. Amen.

[lazysublimeengineer]

the garden of illusions

Summary: “But is that the essence of Yoichi’s football...!? The magic...”

Or Ness caught in the enigma of the spellbinding trap in the form of Isagi Yoichi.

Characters: Isagi Y. & A. Ness

(A/N: Post-Christmas fic for this fandom. Belated Merry Christmas. Spoiler tags in the warning so read at your own risk and discretion. Some scenes and dialogs are excerpts from the manga hence the spoiler tagging. Unnecessary comments or complaints will not be tolerated as sufficient tags and warnings were provided ahead of time. I own nothing from this franchise except for this fic that reeks of wild sin and filth.)

It’s a fluke.

It has to be.

There's no way...

...there’s no way that they can make a goal like that.

‘What was that just now... They didn’t even make eye contact...? Huh!? There’s no way they could sync up like that!? Disgusting. Disgusting. That kind of chemical reaction is fucking disgusting!’ Ness’ thoughts raced inside his head in vitriolic bewilderment.

The sheer abhorrence towards Isagi scoring the final goal enveloped his entire being. But he was also disconcerted and strangely mystified at how was Isagi and Hiori sync up perfectly without even looking towards each other.

“But is that the essence of Yoichi’s football...!? The magic...” Ness uttered in complete wonder and bafflement; his orchid irises gazed at them in wide eyed astonishment.

However, his awestruck state didn’t last for long as Kaiser’s scream from the side caught his attention and stared at him in complete surprise and alarm.

“Kaiser...” He murmured helplessly as he could only watched the young man yelled out in frustration and glared daggers at Isagi’s direction. If looks could kill, Isagi would be lying on a heap right now.

Before he could even take a step towards Kaiser’s direction, he stormed out of the field, leaving Ness distraught and bereft after the match.

He waited for a good feeling to come but it never came throughout the day.

Ness had a funny relationship with Kaiser sometimes.

To him he was the sun, the emperor, the God who had graced him with his blinding yet mesmerizing presence and made the impossible into a possibility in the realm of their reality.

He vanquished the despair that was eating at him on the day that they first met.

He believed in his skill. He believed in his ideas. And he made his magic come true with his exquisite skill on the field.

Nevertheless...

…

He was also the source of his own misery.

He cast a wretchedness to his entire being as a form of punishment.

To which he deserved.

He was totally useless these past few days.

And it was no wonder that Kaiser himself didn’t want to see his face nor grace him with his own presence when he was a sore sight to his pleasant surroundings.

Nothing will pacify nor satisfy him unless he successfully defeated Isagi with his own hands.

He had never doubted Kaiser’s abilities. Nor developed an ounce of hesitance in his belief in him.

One could say he was a mindless fanatic of the young man who treated him like a dirt even if he treated him like a God himself.

Nevertheless, Ness remained steadfast and constantly devoted to him. He wasn’t the type of person to only remain glued to the other’s side when things were going easy and nicely. He will stick by his side even on their unfavorable occasions.

He’d purposely ignored how his hands would sometimes bleed from tightly balling it or punching the wall frustratedly when the other’s attention was too wrapped up with Isagi.

He disregarded the way his body shook slightly from the silent anger and misery whenever Kaiser only looked down at him as if he was a complete disappointment in his eyes and would focus on the other things specifically on the wretched form of Isagi Yoichi who continued to haunt and even taunt him on his thoughts and sleepless nights.

There was no denying it.

His mind refused to entertain any other notion or idea as of why Kaiser had suddenly gone cold and dismissive of him.

It was all Isagi Yoichi’s fault.

Everything had changed when he entered the equation.

But he firmly believed that if he’d be better, interesting and more useful to Kaiser and the team, everything would go back to the way it was.

Kaiser’s attention will be solely on him, and they’d recreate the magic once again that made them great and had the team stay on top.

Just the mere thought of Kaiser sparing even an ounce of interest to that clown filled him with an irrevocable disgust and repugnance.

His mind had shunned any other thoughts that would confuse him or derail him. To him, Isagi Yoichi was a speck or the unwanted dust that needed to be get rid of.

And the idea that he’d be inclined to entertain the magic in Yoichi’s skills on the field...

...

Fucking disgusting.

Still...

...

It lingered on the back of his head.

Like a damn virus that spread out and slowly corrupted his own thoughts and notions.

To him Isagi Yoichi was a total enigma.

Yes. The hatred and animosity that he felt for the other was there. But he cannot also deny that he was an unknown variable in the equation.

Although it was bold and strangely admirable of him to refuse to bow down to Kaiser’s league, he cannot fathom as of to why and he simply dismissed him as a hopeless idiot who naively thought to himself that he can dethrone Kaiser and defeat him.

But seeing the results now...

…

Yoichi won.

He fucking won and scored the final goal for their team which secured their victory against the Ubers.

He took a gamble and showed them the results.

He had shown it to Noa who was a logical strategist and put his career on the line by putting Hiori out there in a field whose stats were vastly different from Kiyora himself.

One cannot refute if the evidence was shown right in front of their faces.

The thought made Ness let out an exasperated breath as he made another kick of the ball which landed perfectly inside the net.

He had been practicing for ages.

He didn’t know how much time had passed.

What he only knew was Kaiser can’t be the only one exerting himself in the practice.

He shouldn’t slack off nor let his guard down.

How can Kaiser rely on him if he’s going to be useless in the field once again?

He continued kicking the ball and slotting himself in different positions, trying to imagine himself in different soccer scenarios against the opponent when they’re on the field.

Amid his practice, the soft creaking sounds of the door being opened halted his movements and stopped midway to look at the person who went in.

Ness didn’t know if it was his unlucky day or fate had been playing tricks on him lately as he came face to face with the person who caused turbulence in his life and his partnership with Kaiser.

Isagi fucking Yoichi.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know that you were using it. I’m going to search for another room to practice in.” Isagi said in an apologetic voice. His persona outside of the field was vastly different from the one he put on when they’re inside the field and playing against their opponents.

He should get used to it but sometimes it still gave him whiplash.

“Well, well, well if it isn’t the Blue Lock’s clown coming in here.” Ness couldn’t help but sneer at him. The anger, bitterness and resentment were bleeding through his tone and words.

Upon hearing his words, a sudden switch seemed to flicker around Isagi’s eyes, and he glowered at him, balling his fists to the side.

“I didn’t know that mutts like you could talk back like this when we all know that all you probably do is to wag your tail at Kaiser and be there under his beck and call.” Isagi shot back and his on-field personality was resurfacing when being provoked.

“Finally growing a spine and talking back hmm? You’re getting way too arrogant just because you scored the last, measly goal against our opponent.” He jeered.

“You should be saying that to your emperor who is nothing but a bogus one considering that the shot that he made was from my own scraps and not from yours.” Isagi curled his lips contemptuously which made Ness’ hackles rise and he crossed the remaining distance between the two of them, taking Isagi by the collar of his shirt and backing him against the wall.

“Shut the fuck up you fool! You know nothing about Kaiser and us! I will not let you disrespect him like this!” He growled at him as his sharp glare pinned him on the spot, his hot breaths brushing along the other’s skin because of their proximity and Isagi refused to be distracted nor let a shiver run through him.

He didn’t want to give Ness the satisfaction that he was getting under his skin.

“Then do pray tell me Ness on what are you to him hmm? Cause from the way I see it, you’re nothing but a loyal lapdog who is at his beck and every call.” Isagi smiled sardonically at him.

The fury inside of Ness couldn’t be held onto longer and he let one of hist fists fly towards Isagi’s face. However, Isagi somewhat anticipated his attack and let his quick reflexes show by immediately catching his fist with one of his hands and prevented it from colliding into his face.

Isagi then switched their positions and pulled his wrist with a bit of force which ended up having them landing unceremoniously down into the ground.

Ness seemed taken aback for a moment, looking up at him with wide eyes as Isagi was on top of him with his hand holding him by the wrist while the other one cradled along his nape as if preventing him from having his head having a violent impact on the ground.

“You... You fucking son of a bitch...!” Ness finally cursed out although it came out in a shaky breath as their proximity had a strange effect on his entire being. It's as if a scintillating sensation was slowly creeping up on him and he couldn’t stop his heart from somersaulting wildly inside his chest.

Ness could only pray inwardly that Isagi wouldn’t take notice of his erratic heartbeat and the havoc that he was wreaking inside of him.

“You have a funny mouth sometimes. But it’s more entertaining if it could be put into other use.” Isagi replied mockingly before he leaned down and crashed his lips against his in an invigorating yet violent kiss.

Isagi had enough of the other constantly belittling and mocking his skills in soccer when he had proven more than once that he’s capable of winning for their team and dethroning Kaiser himself.

The anger and other tumultuous emotions erupted from him and let his reason and logic melted away from the back of his mind as he let his instinct and untapped swirling emotions win finally.

And that was to punish Ness himself for his impudence and lack of courtesy towards him as a fellow teammate and a human being.

Meanwhile, Ness struggled beneath him and thrashed against him, reacting instinctively against his kisses.

How dare this fucking insect kiss him and stole his first kiss?!

However, he was getting distracted as the fury that he felt clashed against the electrifying sensation that surged around his veins upon feeling the other’s lips crashing against his own in a wild yet punishing kiss.

Despite his struggling, Isagi’s hold into him was strong and firm preventing him from getting away. To rebel against him, he kept his mouth closed and didn’t let the other’s tongue invade inside his mouth.

For a moment, his lips felt numb until he felt Isagi slowly ceased his movements. Just as he thought that he’d finally stop, Isagi kissed him slowly yet deeply. He gently coaxed his mouth to open and granted him an access inside the warm crevices of his mouth.

His numb lips started to feel a tingling sensation and he belatedly realized that his traitorous body moved on its own and reciprocated the other’s kiss sensuously, mimicking the other’s mouth moving on his own.

Their mouths molding perfectly against one another as their tongues danced invitingly with one another.

The reasonable part of Ness’ mind seemed to shut down slowly as he slowly gave in to his body’s whispers of yearnings and desires. The moment that Ness tangled his hands into Isagi’s hair and knead through his scalp, he had inevitably lost and gave into his traitorous instincts and wants. Ness wanted to curse Isagi for an eternity. But even moreso for himself for indulging himself into this kind of weakness.

Was this Isagi Yoichi’s magic again working inside of him and manipulating his body like a puppeeter to his puppet?

Isagi couldn’t help a low groan escaping his lips as he felt Ness’ hands kneading through his scalp. The warm and soft sensation of his palms shook him slightly to his core.

The low vibrations of Isagi groaning inside his mouth made him dizzy and clouded his senses in soft pleasure. Drool started to trickle down their lips, but they couldn’t seem to stop kissing each other as their fevered embrace went deeper and harder.

One of Isagi’s hands grew bolder and traipsed inside his torso wherein he caressed the smooth and suppled skin of the other. He continued leaving a trail of featherlight touches to his chest until it reached towards his sensitive nubs and began to pinch it teasingly with his thumb.

The contact alone made Ness jolt and instead of the usual titillating sensation that should envelop around his body, it’s as if he was doused by cold water and brought him back to the present. He quickly pulled away and broke off their shared kisses and pushed him away.

Even with his legs trembling from the overwhelming sensation alone, Ness tried to retain his firm stance as he swiftly stood up and glared at Isagi murderously.

“Don’t you dare come near me you clown. If you value your life and dignity, then hopefully none of this humiliating encounter would come out you understand?” He said harshly and didn’t wait for Isagi’s response nor looked at him for his facial expression and quickly stormed away, ignoring the way his heart almost jumped out of his throat or how his face burned up in mortification.

Isagi was left there staring at his retreating figure until he was standing all alone.

He could still feel the tingling sensation around his lips and as common sense came flooding back to his senses, he swallowed thickly as he slowly closed his eyes to calm himself down.

“Oh fuck.” He muttered as a resigned sigh left his lips.

The next incoming days were filled with buzzing energy, excitement and anxiousness from the other players as the match against the PxG was drawing closer.

Of course, Ness acted perfectly normal and pretended as if he didn’t make out with Isagi the other day.

They were both good at it.

Both acting perfectly fine.

Even more so to Isagi’s part as the blue-eyed striker didn’t even spare him a passing glance outside of the pitch and only communicated with him if that’s necessary. It didn’t bother him in the very least. And why should it? When Isagi was a nobody in his eyes.

Nevertheless, he can’t shake off a prickling feeling inside of him whenever Isagi wore that casual indifference on his eyes every time that their eyes meet for a brief period. Ness didn’t even know if he wanted to punch the living daylight out of him or just pinned him against the walls and let him know how much it was...

...

What exactly?

Pisses him off?

Occupying his mind for the rest of the day when they’re not doing anything?

Or simply because he was causing a strange bewilderment inside of him that his mind cannot even fathom what it was?

Whatever.

He didn’t want to waste his time on this and was getting distracted by these useless thoughts about someone who he deemed was a waste of space and beneath Kaiser’s talent and skill.

But destiny liked to play cruel jokes on him because what supposed to be a normal day for him to start his practice was now interrupted by the male itself who was standing in front of him and who wore a determined yet sheepish look on his face.

“Just what are you onto about now Yoichi?” He asked impatiently, completely hiding the befuddlement and another emotion that rose from within himself that he couldn’t even name of.

“Listen Ness...” Isagi started off hesitantly. “About what happened the other day—.”

“Wow. You totally care about that huh?” Ness interrupted him mockingly. “I thought everything is fine and dandy with you considering on how you seemed casual about it.”

“Well, in my defense you’re the one who said not to utter any word about it before you left.” Isagi replied with his hands raised placatingly. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

Isagi took a deep breath before he continued.

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for my past actions and even invading your personal space... I let my emotions get the better of me. But that’s not an excuse for the way I acted towards you. I completely understand if you don’t want to do anything to me. But for the sake of the team, hopefully we can still be civil towards each other.” Isagi looked at him clear in the eye as he said his apology with a somber look on his face to express the sincerity of his words.

“Ha... What do you know? You still have an ounce of humbleness inside that arrogant bone in you. But I would appreciate it if you extended your apology to Kaiser as well. Considering on how you spout out some disrespectful words and nonsense towards him.” Ness replied.

“Unfortunately, that’s the one thing that I’m not apologizing for.” Isagi replied firmly and before Ness could protest, he continued pressing on. “Kaiser is an obstacle to me and my goal towards soccer. I won’t compromise on that and bow down to him.” He finished with a finality in his voice.

Ness clenched his fists as he smiled tightly at him.

“Very well then. If that’s your choice. Don’t expect me to be mellow to you either just because you went up here and apologize to me. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have a routine to finished today.” Ness replied frostily as he went past him.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Isagi mumbled under his breath as he watched him go until his figure disappeared on his line of sight.

Regardless of what’s been said and done in the past, they’d still ended up tangled on each other’s arms.

If Ness wasn’t so goddamn aroused right now, he would’ve yank Isagi away from his legs whose mouth was busy on sucking his cock like a damn lollipop.

Damn it to hell.

How did they even ended up in a situation like this?

All seemed to be a blur to him, but he could faintly remember how they got into a heated match and argument with one another and slammed each other against the walls until they’ve fought into who would get the upper hand this time. And Isagi whose mouth was faster than his brain when he’s hotheaded had challenged and insinuated at him that he bet he got off when Kaiser treated him like a trash to which he impulsively punched him on the face before he comically widened his eyes in shock as reason began to flood his senses.

However, much to his own surprise Isagi wore an incomprehensible look on his face as he only looked at him with that devious grin on his face which sent a scintillating sensation on his nerves. He caressed his cheek which was blooming in a faint crimson hue because of the blow he managed to land him in.

He only uttered those few little words that had riled him up and messed up his entire being once again.

“I bet you can do better, and I can surpass him.”

It was a challenging trap that Ness blindly walked on to prove that Isagi didn’t have any strong hold on him.

That he was a pathetic idiot who was desperate in an attempt to dethrone Kaiser even if getting his own favor against his emperor.

Nevertheless, he might’ve judged too soon because with the rate they’re going, he might give in to the temptation and flood Isagi’s mouth with his own cum because of how the latter sucked the life out of him.

Just how the fuck Isagi was talented in giving a damn blowjob?

Just thinking about onto where the blue-eyed striker learnt how to do that, left an incomprehensible feeling inside of him to which he blatantly ignored of course.

“Yoichi... If you keep doing that... Fuck...!” A light gasp and a faint moan escaped from Ness’ lips as Isagi deepthroat him harder, his gag reflex practically nonexistent in place.

His words had spurred Isagi on and sucked him deeper in return, his tongue snaking along his cock which was throbbing with need and want inside his hot mouth.

Ness couldn’t trust himself to speak without sounding hoarse or even stuttering so he settled for low grunts of pleasure and tried to suppressed a series of moans that threatened to slipped out from his lips if he stopped biting his lower lip.

But he couldn’t stop his body from shaking and thighs from twitching from the male’s tight grasp around it as he finally reached his own peak and splashed his load suddenly into his awaiting mouth to which Isagi enthusiastically caught and lapped at the essence before he let his cock go with a lewd slurp.

Ness could only breathed raggedly in response and looked hazily at him. His heart was beating loudly inside his chest that he might be deafened around the loud sound of it.

Without even realizing it, his hand reached out weakly for his shirt and pulled him closer towards his frame and removed the remaining gap between the two of them by crashing his lips against the other’s wet, red lips.

Isagi seemed taken aback for a moment before he quickly got his bearings and returned it passionately, his mouth molded perfectly against him like a missing piece of a puzzle.

A shiver ran down Ness’ spine as he could taste himself from Isagi’s lips making him drunk in the ecstasy that the other brought him on.

There was nothing that Ness could blame on for this kind of mistake.

Because in the end, he was the one who chased his lips and let himself be caught in the enemy’s trap themselves.

And Ness didn’t know what to do with that disturbing fact.

Even though they already fooled around the other day in the lockers, it seemed that Ness didn’t learn his lesson.

Yet.

Because not once. Not twice. Or even thrice that he had fallen on Isagi’s arms...

...

And unfortunately, on his bed...

But it seemed that he wasn’t really doing anything on stopping anytime soon regardless of the fact that the sane part of his mind was screaming at him of how utterly wrong and disgusting of him to sleep around with Kaiser’s arch enemy in and out of the field with a single goal of dethroning him and being the best striker of their team.

To which of course, Ness reacted with sheer animosity and hatred against Isagi who was threatening Kaiser and his superior role in their team.

But then again, what the hell was he doing now with Isagi tangled around the sheets every now and then?

Was Isagi his paramour? We’re they’re in a tryst currently?

However, Ness couldn’t point it at like that because they don’t even had a relationship towards each other nor with other people themselves.

He couldn’t even define what the nature of their relationship was.

All they know now was they traversed all the invisible lines that separated them personally and professionally.

It was all getting blurred from thereon but right now Ness couldn’t give a damn about it as Isagi’s mouth was busy devouring his own and tangled him in a wild and dirty kiss while his hands were busy exploring and caressing every inch of his body heatedly.

Their kisses showed no mercy.

It was filled with thorns, taunting and vitriolic feelings towards each other.

It was tethering between a like and dislike, amounting to the middle ground of smoky madness and blind captivity of twisted loathing and admiration.

One of his hands had reached around his scalp and tugged on his locks in a sensuous yet tight grip as their tongues tangled in a messy kiss, drool started to trickle down their lips.

Ness’ legs wrapped around Isagi’s waist automatically as Isagi moved towards the bed haphazardly. He finally placed him on the bed without breaking off the kiss.

He couldn’t help but to grind automatically against him to increase the heated friction on their bodies and this earned a low groan from Isagi inside his mouth. One of his hands had reached on the waistband of his boxers before it slipped right inside to squeezed and caressed his plump ass teasingly.

A light moan escaped from Ness’ lips and Isagi took advantage by slipping his tongue fully on the insides of his mouth and licking at the crevices beneath it.

Ness could do nothing but surrender in a moment of weakness and closed his eyes slowly, letting the other devour his mouth completely and let his hand travel sinfully against his skin.

As he continued to caressed Ness’ backside invitingly, one of his fingers grew bolder and finally made its way towards his entrance and prodded on the insides, breaching his velvety walls with a smooth yet seductive precision that had Ness gasping inside his mouth in pleasant surprise and opening his eyes once again.

He broke away from their wild kiss and pulled away to let out a sinful moan that sent Isagi’s arousal through the roof and added another finger in his entrance and scissored his insides.

“F-fuck...” Ness stuttered out as he drooled from the ecstasy of his fingers alone causing him to grind and ride on them.

Isagi watched Ness’ pleasure-ridden face, indigo irises glazing over, flushed cheeks and swollen, red lips which was thoroughly devoured by him earlier.

It made him lick his lips hungrily as he gazed at him with a predatory look on his face.

“Fuck. You’re so beautiful like this Ness...” He murmured absently.

Ness glared weakly at him. “S-shut up...”

It made Isagi chuckle softly under his breath. “Cute.” He mumbled under his breath before he pulled his fingers away.

This caused Ness to whine needily at the loss of his fingers inside of him but only for a brief period.

Isagi made him wrapped his legs securely on his hips before he gripped his waist and finally gave a one, quick thrust and finally breached his quivering walls and stretched him to the limit with the girth of his aching cock.

The hot friction of their bodies caused them to moan out in unison, the electrifying sensation running through their veins.

They both froze for a moment, neither of them moving as they breathed raggedly.

“Why aren’t you moving?” Ness asked breathlessly.

“Well, I wanted you to adjust to our current—.”

“I’m not made of glass you idiot. Just move already.” Ness replied in half petulance and half neediness.

Isagi curled his lips upwards. “If that’s what you want. Don’t come blaming me later for feeling sore later.” He replied lowly before he pulled away and slammed back right into him which Ness moaned out lecherously in response.

“Ngh... Ah... Fuck... Yoichi...” He gasped lightly as Isagi’s thrusts increased in tempo and began railing him recklessly on the mattress, his cock hitting all the right places inside of him.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! There! Hit there harder! Why’re getting bigger inside of me?” Ness babbled out incoherently as tears and drools of pleasure began cascading down his face.

Isagi continued to piston his insides mercilessly on the mattress, leaning down to lick away the salty tears on his cheeks before his mouth finally settled on his lips and kissed him languorously.

“Maybe you’re to blame on this Alexis hmm? With a face like that who’s eager to take my cock like a good slut, it’s bound to happen eventually.” He mumbled hotly against his lips and Ness could only mewl helplessly against his mouth as his cock reached deeper and harder inside of him until it reached and hit his sweet spot which made him saw stars in an instant.

“Ngh... Y-yoichi....! I-I'm c-close...!” A muffled moan slipped past his lips before his body quivered like a leaf beneath him and suddenly reached his peak, splashing his cum all over their chests.

Meanwhile, Isagi continued to chase his own release and plowed him vigorously on the bed which earned a weak moan from the other as his body grew oversensitive from the onslaught of pleasurable sensation hitting right through him.

Isagi pulled away from their kiss to let out a low groan as he finally reached his climax and painted his insides with the hot, thick ropes of his cum and filled up to his brim instantaneously.

Ness was falling in a state of haziness and soporific asunder until he finally succumbed to sleep, passing right out after their intense session that night.

It was still an ungodly hour of the night when Ness woke up. He needed to get away from Isagi’s bedroom soon before someone gets them caught. He wasn’t in the mood to explain everything to some nameless teammate about their current compromising situation.

But Isagi’s arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him closer until he whispered something against his ear that sent a shiver down his spine.

“Stay the night?” He asked huskily and Ness refused to acknowledge that he found his bedroom voice utterly sexy and seductive.

“We both know that I can’t.” He whispered back throatily, his resolve growing weaker damn it to hell.

“Well, before you leave, you might wanna take care of that.” One of Isagi’s fingers brushed along the tip of his cock which was now hard as a rock.

Fuck.

“I can take care of this myself.” Ness replied faintly.

“It’s more efficient if we do this way Alexis.” Isagi licked at the shell of his ear seductively before he hoisted him up on his arms and placed him on his lap.

“What the hell—.”

“Now c’mon. I know you wanna do this and relieve yourself. I don’t mind you riding me anyway.” Isagi gave him a wolfish grin and a playful wink which skyrocketed Ness’ nerves but couldn’t refute his words.

Biting his lip in a moment of deliberation, he finally made a choice.

A choice to let his dumb emotions get in the way again and let Isagi have his way with him again despite telling himself that it would be the last time.

He situated himself on his lap before he took his cock and guided along his entrance. A sigh and a moan slipped past his lips as his cock eased inside easily his walls which was still hot and slick from the copious amount of cum inside of it earlier.

Ness moved slowly, gyrating his hips in front of him as he tried to find a rhythm. Isagi watched in rapt silence as he let the other moved on top of him, his azure eyes darkened and swirled with desire and lust as the other’s walls hugged his invitingly, getting addicted to the delicious sensation of his body moving against his.

Isagi swallowed thickly and resisted the urge to pin him down on the mattress and devour him in avid ferocity and hunger.

When Ness eventually found his rhythm, his movements increased in staccato, grinding and thrusting himself up and down towards Isagi’s cock in eagerness. Isagi licked his lips slowly as his hands made their way to his hips and assisted him on his movements. He tried to match his speed and movement by grinding harder in return which earned a lecherous moan from the male.

It sounded musical to his ears.

Ness couldn’t even stop himself nor hold back as his body had developed a mind of its own and rode him like a horse in a race, jumping in and out of his cock like a spinning top. The lewd slapped of their skins and harsh breathings and grunts of pleasure resonated across the four walls of the room.

Isagi was inwardly thankful for possessing a pair of robust legs and thighs because his muscles would’ve given up a long time ago due to the strong impact of Ness’ lithe yet meaty thighs slapping against his own.

“Yoichi... Fuck... S-so good...” Ness stammered out as his hands braced themselves along his shoulders, the bed creaking beneath them against their wild movements.

“God fucking dammit Alexis... If you could see your face right now... Like you’re made to take my cock like this.” Isagi chuckled throatily before it was interrupted by a series of moans as Ness continued to impale himself wildly on his aching cock.

“S-shut the fuck up you clown...! Ngh... God...” Ness tried to glower at him which was weakened by how misty his eyes been with ecstasy and pleasure.

“Then make me.” Isagi’s eyes gleamed challengingly which Ness took on gladly and leaned down to capture his lips in an open-mouthed kiss.

One of Isagi’s hands landed on his nape and brought him closer, licking through the roof of his mouth as he returned his kiss hungrily, rutting his hips along with him and meeting his fervent thrusts with his own grinding until he felt Ness shook on top of him and pulled away and broke of their kiss.

“Fuck Yoichi... C’mon...” He whined softly.

“What do you want me to do hmm?”

“I c-can't... I’m close... Just t-take me...” Ness whimpered needily.

“If that’s what you want then I’m glad to do so.” He murmured before he suddenly hoisted Ness away from his lap and flipped their position instantly on the bed, with him now on top of him and Ness pinned beneath him on the mattress.

Before Ness could even protest at the loss of his cock inside of him, Isagi suddenly slammed inside of him ferociously which earned a salacious moan and lecherous mewl from him.

“Ah! Ah! Ah! Fuck! Yoichi! So good! Don’t fucking stop!” Ness mewled like a bitch in heat beneath him as he let Isagi railed him mercilessly on the bed.

“Fuck! You’re still fucking tight! Shit! Feels good around me!” Isagi groaned out in pleasure and lust as he couldn’t slow down nor hold back as his body moved on autopilot and continued to plow him wildly on the mattress.

As Ness’ voice started to grow louder, Isagi immediately leaned down and claimed his lips hungrily, swallowing all of his moans and mewls in a deep yet fervent kiss.

Ness returned his kiss deeply, his mouth slotting perfectly against his own as his legs wrapped tightly along his hips to bury him deeper inside of him.

“Fuck... I’m close too...” He mumbled hotly against his lips.

 “Do it inside.” Ness murmured as he arched his back and met his avid thrusts ardently.

“You sure? I can just pu—.”

“I’m not saying it twice you clown. Inside or too scared to do it the second time hmm?” Ness pulled away from their kiss and smiled tauntingly at him.

Isagi growled lowly at him. “Then take all of it like the good whore you are.” He replied darkly as his body reached its limit and climax, splashing all his load like a damn waterfall on his hot and aching walls.

Ness moaned out softly as he was filled up to his brim instantaneously, reaching his own peak and painting their chests with thick, ropes of his cum.

Isagi continued to thrust into him with vigor, pumping his seed deeply into him.

“Ah... Ah... Ah... Yoichi...” He mewled helplessly as he trembled like a leaf beneath him, tears of pleasure began raining down on his face.

Isagi leaned down and licked the salty tears away before he kissed him tenderly on his lips and Ness could only moan softly into the kiss and returned it weakly.

His consciousness was slowly slipping away, and he let the slumber take him away into a deep sleep, failing to hear and recognize Isagi’s last words to him that night.

A loud whistle from their coach halted their movements on the field.

“A fifteen-minute break everyone.” Noa announced simply before he turned around and left the field for a moment.

Ness took a deep breath before he went to his bench and picked up his water bottle and pulled out the cap off and started to drink from it.

He tried so hard not to limp as he walked and moved around during their practice. Ness believed that he got his body perfectly under control even though his hips were aching, and legs felt like jelly from overexertion last night. Fuck Isagi and him being damn rough on him again.

He would make sure to let the other known to not overdo it once they have the time to hook up again in the future.

Ness paused and his mind grinded into a screeching halt.

Did he hear himself right? Was he actually considering another time into fooling around with Isagi under the sheets again?

God, how pathetic he can be, and he can’t even control hims—.

“Ness.” A familiar yet stone cold voice cut off his derailing thoughts and brought him back to the present.

Ness glanced around at the source of the voice to find that Kaiser was standing in front of him with that indifferent look on his face.

“Yes? What is it Kaiser?” Ness asked casually but something in his eyes made him feel uneasy and distraught as if his piercing gaze alone could bored right through his soul and read his innermost thoughts and feelings even though he found it to be utterly ridiculous and irrational.

“You’re distracted and you weren’t playing to the best ability at the practice today.” He pointed out bluntly.

“What do you mean?” He asked laughingly, trying to play it cool and hide his nervousness.

“For starters, you and Yoichi were late earlier at the practice. You missed twice in passing the ball to me which doesn’t usually happen to you as you can perform a perfect pass to me wherever I’m positioned at. So, did something happen? Or more specifically did something happened between you and Yoichi?” He asked sharply.

Damn it to hell. Sometimes Kaiser’s observational skills can be an advantage and a disadvantage as it extended outside the field, and he can easily observe and notice some changes in a person’s habits or mannerisms no matter how minor it can be.

Ness blinked at him a few times. “What makes you think that this has something to do with Yoichi? It’s just incidental that we’re both late at the practice earlier. I’d never waste my precious time with that clown. I just got late because I tried to finish reading a book last night and slept in late. Forgive me Kaiser if I’m not in my peak performance today, I’ll ensure to compensate for my mistakes for today later at the practice.” He tried to explain and apologize while looking at him directly, resisting the urge to look away as it would give way that he’d just lie straight into his face about Yoichi and the reason why he was late earlier.

Kaiser looked at him critically in his eyes before he scoffed lightly. “Make sure you do that. I don’t want you to be render useless in our upcoming match considering that you’re the heart of our team.” Kaiser turned around and went back to the field, not waiting for his reaction or response to his words.

A bittersweet smile inched across his lips as he watched Kaiser walked away with his back turned.

Right.

What did he expect from him anyway?

An emperor like him does not pay attention to any other miniscule thing except for his own well-being and how it would affect him in the long run.

And he would gladly do everything to make himself useful and support Kaiser’s hopes and dreams in the field of soccer.

But why there was lingering sense of vacillation within himself every time his thoughts would drift on that idea alone?

Instead, it was Isagi’s gleaming eyes and challenging smirk would appear in his head and his fevered touches and deep kisses would continued to haunt him in his sleepless nights.

He was in deep shit this time.

There were no stars in the sky tonight.

Of course, it’s a baseless and ridiculous notion that Ness could think of since they’re in a dome with no windows or glassy roofs in sight.

The facility of Blue Lock was equivalent to a concentration camp sometimes with the smell of antiseptic silver of alcohol which reminded him of a white hallway in a hospital.

If his parents were here and they’d heard him about it, they would simply dismiss it with a factual explanation of light pollution from human-made sources of light which brightened up the sky and made it difficult to see the stars.

They wouldn’t entertain any vague ideas that don’t hold any empirical evidence of some sort.

That's why Alexis had been a foreign specimen to them. An unknown data that they couldn’t comprehend in their lineage. In a family of scientists who always based their thoughts and conclusions on scientific data, he stood out to the rest of them like sore gum.

Ness knew within himself that he was the black sheep of his family. He had always believed in the possibility of the seemingly impossible things like magic and creativity.

Nevertheless...

...

Sometimes in the deep recesses of his own mind, he kept on thinking if this was real and if it was, why the fuck was he even doing it in the first place?

Why the hell he kept sleeping with Isagi repeatedly even though he was the mortal enemy of his own emperor?

He was no scientist by any means.

But any faceless person could chance a glance at him and his situation and would deemed that he was good at making terrible mistakes and irrational decisions based on the waves of his emotion and unreliable heart.

He’d chance a glance at Isagi’s frame from a distance and he’d see him chatting animatedly with his fellow peers in Blue Lock or even wore his usual scowl and annoyance whenever Kaiser would get a chance to deride and mock his skills in the field.

It’s as if their brief dalliance with one another didn’t happen in those feverish nights inside the facility that’s filled with oppressive environment and high-stake competitiveness with the other players.

The only moment that it’d finally register that the fate would deem for him it to be real was whenever he’d realize that Isagi would stole surreptitious glances at him, a ghost of a smirk lingering around his lips, and fingers subtly brushing along his in the guise of a casual physical comradery between the two of them in the pitch.

 He thought that they were simply traversing in the garden of illusions where the others ceased to exist, and they were caught in a spellbinding trap of haziness with one another.

It was one of those nights once again that they were cocooned in each other’s arms with his frame pinned by Isagi under the mattress and showering his neck with languorous kisses and slight nibbling on his skin.

They’re just finished in their second round of sex but with the way things were going between the two of them, it seemed that a third round was not a farfetched idea after all.

It sent a thrilling sensation inside of him much to Ness’ chagrin.

“Don’t push your luck and leave any marks you idiot.” Ness grumbled hoarsely as he prevented Isagi’s teeth from sinking down on the sensitive expanse of his skin around his neck.

“Stop having grandeur of delusions Alexis. As if I wanted to claim you.” Isagi quipped idly as he trailed lazy kisses down his chest and started sucking on one of his nipples which was still flush and tender from being paid attention a few moments ago.

“Fuck you Yoichi. Don’t be too ahead of yourself. As if I’d want your pathetic ass to claim me.” He tried to sound derisive, but it came out as a light gasp as he felt his hot tongue giving out kitten licks on his sensitive nubs before he sucked it eagerly.

Isagi only hummed in response, seemingly distracted with his eager mouth doing sinful things around his body.

A light gasp escaped from Ness’ lips as Isagi’s fingers started to tease his rim briefly before they breached his entrance once again, his walls were still hot and slick from the cum jostling in and out of him.

“Fuck...” Ness breathed out raggedly as he couldn’t stop his hips from moving and riding the other’s fingers which were expertly maneuvering his insides like a soft sponge and milking his velvety walls in apt precision and dexterity.

“Wanna go again?” Isagi mouthed along his skin before he looked up at him with a devious yet charming smile on his face that sent Ness’ heart stuttering wildly inside his chest.

“Okay... Just don’t overdo it or we’ll be late for practice tomorrow again...” Ness replied faintly as a needy whine slipped past his lips when Isagi pulled out his fingers and situated himself on top of him.

“Of course. I don’t wanna be accuse of giving a bad influence to the heart of the team who got an impeccable record in attendance.” Isagi laughed huskily as he gave his cock a few more strokes before he slammed back into him with vigor and enthusiasm.

“Fuck you...!” Ness cursed at him before a series of moans erupted from his lips as he felt the wide girth of his cock breaching his quivering walls once again.

“That’s what I’m already doing... Shit... Still fucking tight... How are you still this tight when we’ve done this several times already...?” Isagi ground his teeth as he held his hips tightly and piston his insides in wild abandon, the bed creaking against their wild movements.

Ness could only mewl and moan sinfully as Isagi repeatedly abused his sweet spot, his eyes rolling back in the tumultuous pleasure and ecstasy that Isagi was giving him.

He barely registered Isagi leaning down and sealing his lips in a deep kiss to swallow all the pleasurable noises that he was making beneath him. Ness returned his kiss hungrily and let his tongue plunder the insides of his mouth wildly.

A few more thrusts and Isagi finally reached his peak and emptied himself into him, his insides milking on his cock as the splashes of his cum painted his walls in hot, silvery hues of his cum. He followed soon right after, the orgasm hitting him like a freight train as he splashed his load across their chests suddenly.

He moaned weakly inside his mouth as they both rode their highs together until it subsided.

Isagi pulled away from their kiss and fell on top of him unceremoniously, breathing raggedly against his neck.

Ness loosened his grip on him, but he kept his legs wrapped around his hips unconsciously to enjoy the remaining sizzling sensation traipsing inside of him whenever their bodies slot against each other sensuously.

“Stay the night?” Isagi asked throatily as he licked at the shell of his ear lazily.

The correct answer should be no.

There's no other right answer besides it.

But maybe his family was right.

He really was the moron on their family as he let his mouth run faster than his head.

That's why he can never be a scientist like them because he let the whims of his unreliable heart win in the end when the right thing to do was listen to the reasonable part of his head.

“Yeah, I will.”

He could feel Isagi smiling against his skin but chose to ignore it as the deep slumber took away his consciousness and fell into a dreamless sleep right into his arms.

A few days later...

The black gloves fit seamlessly inside his hands as he finally put them on.

Today was their anticipated match against the PxG and Ness’ nerves thrummed inside his veins in half excitement and half anxiousness.

Now’s not the time to feel any other negative emotion that could affect his performance later on in the match.

He just needed to focus on his goal and—

“Ness. You ready?” Kaiser’s cool voice interrupted his thoughts, and he faced him with a confident smile on his face. He just inwardly hoped that he couldn’t see the slight nervousness surging inside of him.

“Of course, I am Kaiser. As ready as I’ll ever be!” He closed the door of his locker with an audible click of the lock.

Kaiser was about to speak when his gaze caught Isagi’s figure at the corner who’s done tying his shoelaces and stood up.

“So, Yoichi are you ready to be the clown for today’s match?” He asked mockingly.

Isagi stared at Kaiser with a look of contempt in his eyes. “You’re the one who should be ready to be dethroned you naked emperor.” He scoffed.

Ness’ brow twitched as he glared sharply at Isagi. “Watch your words you loser.” He warned.

Isagi glanced at Ness briefly before he offered him a deriding grin and a weighted gaze that caught his breath and heart somersaulting inside his chest. “You’re the one who should watch yourself if I were you.”

“Why you—.”

A tap on his shoulder halted Ness’ next words and looked at Kaiser silently.

“Ness. I believe you should get in line now out there before Noa came looking for us. I’ll follow soon right after.”

Ness looked conflicted for a moment before he sighed in defeat and nodded, leaving him and Isagi in the locker room.

As soon as Ness left, Kaiser narrowed his eyes at Isagi. “This is between you and me. Consider this as a mild warning to not let my midfielder into your mind games and tricks.” He said coldly.

Isagi arched a brow before he wore an innocent smile on his lips as he approached him and whispered something right into his ear that made Kaiser taken aback for a moment before he clenched his fists to the side.

“You really should take care of your midfielder or else you’re going to lose him once he found the true source of magic that can make his ideas a true reality on the pitch.”

(A/N: This was born out of that panel in chapter 239 where Ness looked starstruck at Isagi after the match while still harboring a hatred for him lol. So, this is my special holiday gift to the Isaness shippers out there who keep on growng and sailing. Hover that mouse to the dialog box and leave me a review for my amusement.)

[222hopelessromantic444]

do you mind writing smth angsty for donnie darko??

thanks in advance <33

ofc hehe thank u so much for the request<333

I'm currently on a different continent so this will be a short one- hope u still like it tho♡

btw feel free to request something else if this isn't what u wanted c:

The Killing Moon

Donnie meets you on a field to lock at the stars and talk.

The soft moonlight gently illuminated his features as he moved closer to you, resting his head in your lap. Just minutes earlier, Donnie had tossed small rocks at your window, prompting you to groggily open it at 2 in the morning.

Since your room was on the third floor, you had to quietly sneak out of the house to meet Donnie outside. With minimal conversation, he pulled you along, explaining that he couldn't sleep and practically had to see you.

You and Donnie had been a couple for nearly five months. While you talked a lot, there were some topics you two never really spoke about.

He had told you about his mental illness, and you had quietly listened, offering warm hugs whenever his voice cracked or his eyes welled up. This was one reason he adored you so much—the fact that you just listened and tried to understand, genuinely caring about him.

Donnie led you to an empty field with a breathtaking view of the night sky. As you both lay down, his head resting in your lap and your hands gently stroking his hair, he began to speak.

Donnie gazed at the stars, a sudden heaviness in his chest. "Have you ever wondered if there's something more out there? Like another reality that we're missing?"

Minutes of silence passed, your gaze fixated on the night sky while your fingertips soothingly massaged his scalp.

You turned your head to look at him, your own thoughts swirling. "All the time, Donnie. It's as if we're trapped in this life, merely going through the motions."

He sighed, frustration tinting his voice. "It feels like we're following a script we didn't choose. Do we truly have any control over our lives?"

His blue eyes fixed on your features, a questioning, yet sad expression on his face.

Your fingers traced patterns on his soft skin. "I wish we did. Sometimes, it seems like the universe is nudging us in directions we never wanted to take."

A breeze rustled the leaves, a sense of unease settling in. "What if we're mere illusions? What if our feelings aren't real but rather a cruel trick?"

Your fingertips stopped their movements, your gaze meeting his, but his stare remained locked on the sky.

"Donnie, I believe our feelings are real," you said softly. "However, reality might be more intricate than we can imagine. Perhaps there are unseen forces at play."

He turned to you, his eyes searching yours. "I want to believe that. I want to think there's a purpose behind all this suffering."

Tears glistened in his eyes. "I understand, Donnie. It's just... challenging to find meaning when everything appears so chaotic and confusing."

He reached out, his fingers tenderly grasping yours and pulling your hand from his hair to his chest. "I'm lucky you're here with me. In this messed-up world, you're the one thing that feels real."

Your fingers entwined, holding on as if grounding each other. "And you're the one who keeps me from going completely lost, Donnie."

The stars above seemed to twinkle with a sad understanding, as if witnessing their shared pain. In that field beneath the expansive universe, Donnie once more saw how much you cared about him. Even if there is an other universe, he'd never wanted to leave his. Because of you.