#and still has the dark urge instincts and. well. urges. but they have even LESS access to memories than normal durge has

[tiktaaliker]

ok I know I'm already in the process of writing an extremely long video game retelling/au where the protag is a nonhuman who gets suddenly and unwillingly put in a situation where they have to pass as A Normal Guy by the threat of harm/death while also being put into a role where they're the Only One capable of saving the world. but what if I started a DIFFERENT one too

[ponderingmoonlight]

Chapter 1 : Forbidden Bond

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader

Warnings: Language, violence, physical abuse, traumatic childhood, Gojo being a jerk

Next Chapter ->

His usual so unbothered eyes grow wider and wider with each passing second, watch in slow motion how this tiny human being he’s never seen before draws closer to him. Step by step, not paying attention to the stinging fact that she’ll run straight into him. He couldn’t care less, though.

That smile.

Has he seen you before? No, he would have remembered for sure. There wasn’t a single moment in his still young life that made Gojo Satoru gaze at a smile twice, that made him wonder about the name and voice behind it. But seeing you like this, laughing to yourself so unmoved by your surroundings leaves him pondering.

Who is this girl?

He doesn’t get the chance to think about it any further. Like in slow motion, you trip over his feet first before dragging him along with you onto the hot tarmac, tiny stones digging themselves into the palms of his hands.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry! I didn’t even look out, I…I’m so clumsy!”

“It’s okay...”

No, it’s not. Why weren’t you paying attention to where you’re walking, how dare you to run him over – him, the pride of the Gojo clan? Now he’s all dirty, his pants probably sliced open.

But instead of complaining, he simply watches how you lift yourself off the ground so awkward that you almost trip right back on top of him, brushing the dirt off the dark blue kimono you’re wearing.

“Now you’re all dirty because of me”, you sigh with a pout.

Your voice. It matches your appearance perfectly, the innocent gleam in your eyes, the way your laughter sounded earlier. Angelic, hypnotizing, so melodious that he urges to hear you talk again.

“Let me help you back up!”

You stretch out your tiny hand in front of his and out of instinct, he grabs it. How is it possible that his palm seems to swallow yours whole? You have to be around his age, an inch or two smaller. But his hands…

Your hands…

You let go way too early.

“I was actually on my way home and got distracted by that dog over there. It got so happy when I laughed so I couldn’t stop and then you came and-“

“Do you ever stop talking?”

His cold interruption catches you off guard while he shoves both hands in the pocket of his hoodie. That boy…You’ve never seen him before around here. Sure, you would have remembered those bright blue eyes and white hair. Where does he come from? Why does he look so different? All those questions piling up inside your head.

Where were you even going?

“(y/n)?”

Her cold voice makes your blood freeze in an instant, widened eyes not daring to look behind you. Why is she here? You aren’t late, did nothing wrong…did you?

“Who’s that?”, the boy in front of you questions.

“(Y/N) ZENIN!”

You swallow hard, the tone in your nanny’s voice making you realize what will happen next. Suddenly you don’t care about the boy with the bright blue eyes or the happy dog anymore.

“You…You’re a Zenin?”

He can’t believe his ears, orbs studying you up and down. Of course, he heard about your family, about the stinging fact that he should keep a safe distance from you. Out of all big jujutsu families, the Zenin clan is the worst with its members being as cold as ice. His teachers warned him, parents literally begged him to keep himself away from anything that comes from this family. And that includes you as well, apparently.

“A Zenin…”, he mumbles under his breath.

You look nothing like their description, though.

His voice fades into the back of your mind. All you feel is thick fear crawling up your veins, the dark foreshadowing making your limbs ache already.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing here with this brat!?”

Her cold hand grabs your tiny arm roughly and forces you backwards so harsh that you almost fall over again.

“I ran into him-”, you desperately try to explain yourself.

“You…You are that Gojo kid, aren’t you? The honoured one…”

“And you’re a nobody.”

Gojo.

Your eyes widen in sheer horror. If there’s one thing your father told you over and over, it was staying away from members of the Gojo clan.

“Especially Gojo Satoru. Don’t you dare to even talk to him or you’ll feel my anger.”

“I didn’t know it was him, I was on my way home when I-“

“Quiet.”

A ruthless slap right in your face sends you onto the ground all over again, blood squinting out your tiny nose immediately. You…You did something unforgivable, something your father will punish you for. Shivers haunt your whole body, thick fear almost taking your sight. One last time your glossy eyes dart towards the boy with the unbothered blue orbs that now show a hint of disturbance.

-8 years later-  

“Look what we have here, Suguru! There’s that dirty brat from the Zenin clan!”

“I don’t think you should call her like that…”

“I smelled your arrogance miles away, douchebag”, you mutter under your breath.

There he stands. Probably a few inches taller than the last time you saw him but still with the same dumb smirk plastered on his dirty face. He looks horribly good, arrogance dripping from every pore of his body. Oh, words can’t describe how much hatred you hold for that boy, how much willpower it costs you to not wipe him from the surface of this earth in an instant.

“Be nice to me, (y/n). After all I’m a special grade while you’re a lousy grade 1”, he bites back at you.

“Don’t make me launch another bit of Phobia Projection your way. I’ll never forget the way you cried like a baby.”

A cursed technique rooted in the dark arts of Jujutsu, a technique you learned by your grandfather by the age of 12. Those who wield this technique have the ability to delve into the depths of their target's psyche, extracting and manifesting their worst fears into reality. Through manipulation of spectral energy, the user projects vivid illusions that evoke intense sensations of terror and anxiety, effectively trapping their victim in a nightmarish realm tailored to their deepest fears. This technique not only inflicts psychological torment but can also paralyze the victim with fear, rendering them vulnerable to further attacks. It is a formidable and sinister ability that exploits the vulnerabilities of the human mind, leaving a lasting impression of dread long after the encounter has ended.

And made none other than Gojo Satoru break down in front of your feet.

“You’ll cry as well when I’m done with you, little bitch.”

Gojo builds himself up in front of you before Geto is able to stop him, glimmering eyes staring at you filled with nothing but hatred.

“Want applause for using a dark art on me? You’re nothing but a pathetic little girl that got slapped by her parents a little too often. And even though they trained you like there’s no tomorrow, your still not good enough to face me.”

His words hit you with full force, flood your mind with memories you tried to avoid so desperately. Out of instinct, you grab him by his throat and thrust him into the grass underneath, dig his flawless white hair into the dirt. If there’s one thing your family was right about, it was Gojo Satoru.

“I fucking hate you, Gojo. You’re nothing but a waste of space, just like your whole pathetic clan”, you hiss through gritted teeth, voice dripping in venom.

“My pathetic clan? Your family roams around and kills innocent people, (y/n). Who the hell are you to judge, huh? You’re not even strong enough to even talk to me”, he barks in reverse.

“Why does it always have to end like this between you two? Get off him, (y/n).”

Geto’s firm hands grab your shoulders and yank you backwards in order to create distance between Gojo and yourself while you can’t catch your breath.

Your deadly orbs still glare at him, blood pulsates through your veins so rapidly that you feel like exploding any given minute. He has some fucking nerve, talking about your past like that. Him, who’s nothing but a spoiled brat. Him, who’s gifting just by being born. Him, with nothing but immense powers and a pretty face.

“Next time you’re getting so close to me, I’ll kill your ass without thinking twice”, you spit at him from afar, Geto holding you back with all his strength.

“I love to see ya try little girl!”

“Come on, (y/n). Just turn around and leave, this is senseless. You’re just hurting each other.”

Suguru’s calm voice has always been the only thing that kept you from scratching those bright blue orbs out of his eyeballs. You allow your eyes to rest for a brief second, your heartbeat to calm down. Your family told you to stay away from him, to be better than him and forced you to attend Jujutsu High. Why does it have so damn hard to make them happy, to show your father that you’re worthy? How are you supposed to stay away from him when he’s around you all the time?

Without gifting him a single look, you turn on your heel and simply walk away.

Training. A training session is exactly what you need right now.

“Don’t you dare to shout after her, Satoru”, Geto warns his best friend right when he takes a deep breath in.

“I really don’t get it. All that hate just because your families don’t get along?”

“You don’t get it, Suguru.”

“What makes you hate (y/n) so much?”

Satoru can’t believe his ears, the sheer question of his best friend seeming like an insult. Why would he even like you? You with your stupid pretty face, you with those remarkable eyes that shook him to his core when he first saw you, you with that laugh…When was the last time he heard you laugh?

He shakes his head violently. Why would he even care about something so stupid?

“Cause she’s a Zenin brat”, Satoru replies monotone.

You are his enemy, the biggest threat of his family, hunting after his future. You deserve nothing but his hatred, nothing but disinterest. You are the devil himself. Yes, your sheer presence on this earth is enough reason to hate you.

“Didn’t you tell me she was quite nice when you met her as a child?”

“I never said that”, Satoru mumbles under his breath immediately.

Enough of all that bullshit, all that talking about your dumbass. It’s not like you deserve his attention anyway.

“C’mon, let’s grab something to eat.”

That was the first chapter babes, hope you enjoyed! It would mean the world if you take your time to tell me what you think and how you liked it so far! 🤍

Tags: @whereismysane @risuola @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @livmarauder @sapphireandange @madaqueue

[marcusakito]

Lyney Cat Hybrid Boyfriend HCs (Sfw and Nsfw)

I blame my friend for inspiring me to write this. But I still had fun thinking about it, so was it really that bad?

Lyney x Fem!Reader

CW: Minors DNI, Slight Yandere (Just to be safe I'll add that), Biting(?), Rough Sex, Breeding, Penetration, and technically a monster cock.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

SFW:

I really wanna believe Lyney is a cat hybrid like his sister Lynette. Perhaps he takes a special suppressant that makes his cat features less prominent.

His ears would be small enough to be completely flush in his hair, and his tail small enough to hide in his clothes. The only thing visible in his cat trait would be his eyes. The glow in the dark, and see just as well in the dark too.

Why would he do that? Having one cat on stage makes it special, unique, don't you think having two makes it less so?

Of course like most medicine, I doubt taking the suppressant constantly would be healthy. He has a few days where he doesn't take them.

So imagine your surprise when his cat ears spring up, and being in casual clothes, his tail moves freely around.

Yes, he'll allow you to touch them. But only if you promise to be gentle.

If you pet his head and scratch his ears, he'll be snuggling up against you and purring. Same goes for when you sleep together.

What a clingy cat. But that's what makes him adorable, no?

If he purrs, he definitely hisses. He's learned to surpress that since he was young, but if he gets jealous towards someone... Well now, he can't help it at that point.

He'd have the urge to scratch their face off, but he resists doing that. That would be rather... Unbecoming of his charismatic self. Besides, he has other possible ways of handling things.

That is, to show outwardly open affection to you. Prove to that person you're his.

Just like any other cat, Lyney's stomach is a sensitive spot. Very, very ticklish and he doesn't mind if you wanna tickle him, he trusts you! Just don't tickle him out of surprise when you're outside, he might accidentally scratch you.

He'll be sure to give a thousand apologies for it though. And maybe a rose or two.

NSFW:

MASSIVE BREEDING KINK.

He can't help himself, it's his primal instincts taking over when you two have intercourse.

His cock is a little thinner than average, 6", bulbous and red tip, and extremely sensitive. His dick has rough, rounded barbs around the base of his shaft.

Those barbs rubs against your walls and clit just right. It was an unexpected pleasure for the both of you, since they were sensitive for Lyney, and it makes him cum pretty easily even without much stimulation.

He retracts his claws (His nails) so they won't hurt you when he plunges them into your hole to finger you. But he'd use them to sensually graze his nails softly too.

His favourite position is doggystyle (Or rather, catstyle?) And prone bone, but he wouldn't mind other positions. He just knows that particular one makes him certain you'll be properly bred.

He'll either hold you by your hips or pin your hands above your head, with his chest pressed against your back. He'll praise you for doing so well, how well you'll take his seed, and for the beautiful bump for when you bear his children.

The thought of you pregnant just riles him up and turns him on.

He's got naturally high libido, but oh boy, good luck during his heat cycle.

He'll be clingy, snuggling against you constantly that you'll have to shove him off. That doesn't stop him, though.

And once you're home, well...

He'll be thrusting into you roughly, overstimulating you over and over again to cum inside you without a moment of rest.

And if you try to get away and act up? He's not above biting you at the back of your neck.

It's his cat instincts needing you to stay longer. Even after you've had what, 5 orgasms and a ton of his load in you?

He'll realize what he did and make up for it later by drawing you a bath or patching it up.

Mandatory snuggles after sex. No exception.

And he'll be keeping his dick inside of you all night. You don't mind cockwarming, do you? He's just making sure not to waste a single drop of his semen inside you.

Hope you don't mind not walking for a while. Don't worry, Lyney's taking care of you well throughtout the mating season.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Hope you enjoyed my hcs! I was thinking of writing more monster(?) Human headcanons, not limited to animal hybrids. It's just fun to think of the possibilities.

If you have any concerns or suggestions, feel free to give a comment or ask!

[foressfaction]

My Jack and Toby headcanons (they're bfs)

The scar I usually draw over Toby's nose was actually given to him by Jack. When they first met, Jack only saw Toby as another victim to kill and eat. What else could you expect when a demon see's another random human. They ended up having a pretty bad fight at the very beginning due to Jack's animal instincts. Toby left a nasty scar over Jack's back and Jack left a deep cut from his nails on Toby's face. So now they both still have sorta matching scars from their first encounter. Are they happy memories? No. Sometimes Jack gets angry that Toby doesn't cover it up more. As covering that part of his face would involve either a full face mask or constantly wearing gauze over it, which is what he DOES do often. Jack tries not to be as harsh on the other about it but he doesn't like seeing the scar he put on Toby and remembering how he used to be and that he had hurt someone he cares so dearly about now.

As for ages and other basic information, they are two years apart. Jack is 21 while Toby is 19. Jack has long pointy ears that come from the sides of his head along with a long thin tail that has a poof at the end of it that's the same color as his hair. Jack stands at around 6'8, his animalistic legs giving him a huge height advantage. While Toby stays around 5'6-5'7 when not slouching.

The main reason Jack actually didn't manage to kill Toby was because when going for the goal, Toby's kidneys, he took notice of the operator symbol carved into him. Jack knows way too well to mess with any of that entity's 'proxies.' As last time he attacked one and killed them, The Operator struck Jack hard and left bad mental trauma. Technically…Jack is terrified of that thing, and wants nothing to do with it. Much less be involved in another killing of its proxies.

Jack still occasionally gets monstrous urges to attack and kill Toby even now that they are close. Everyday it's a risk that Toby takes to still stick around Jack. That fact alone makes Jack feel special, that even with his tendencies and urges, Toby remains unafraid of him. This is what makes him get so attached.

As dangerous as it is, following the last statement, Toby does stick around. He doesn't even realize how much that means to Jack. He himself can't understand why the other wouldn't just kill him day one. Toby is severely disaster prone and is not scared of dying, plus he's tried to commit several times himself. Being around Jack during the other's manic episodes is natural to him. Even in times that Jack would attack and try to hurt Toby, he would almost let it happen. It's dangerous how much trust he puts into the demon, but after so long it no longer bothers either of them, as they both know they have more control than the thing that tries to take them over and ruin what little happiness they do have.

What does the Operator think of these two? Well it doesn't really matter. Its only motive is to break its chosen puppet's minds. If it knows one of its 'precious proxies' has found peace of mind and true happiness then it realizes it can no longer manipulate them into thinking that it is the only thing filling that empty hole it impaled into their hearts from the start. Love and friendship being its one true pet peeve its human slaves can experience.

Due to its hatred to the relationship, whenever Toby has a dark moment, the operator gets him away from Jack and then tries to take control. Upon success, Toby would immediately lash out and attack Jack. It's the same situation Jack has with his inner demon, instead that is apart of Jack, while for Toby it's a completely different story. After weeks of this repeating, Jack usually has to restrain Toby, knowing how that thing can be, it would have no problem tearing the boy apart just to get to Jack's mind as well. Jack now knows not to ever truly leave Toby alone by himself with his still healing mind. And Toby knows not to pry or tempt Jack in any way involving food or accidentally angering the demon. These two are bombs waiting to blow up if any little thing goes wrong. And that's really sad.

I feel like Jack would be the tired but supportive dad personality type when it comes to Toby. Motherfucker shows up with 6 different kinds of tree bark and goes on an autism rant about what he knows about each one and how flammable they are while Jack would sit in a crouched position, ears perked in interest. No matter what it is, Jack is always wanting to be a part of it. When NOT angered, Jack is like a big cat. He doesn't understand these silly human emotions Toby experiences and kinda lowkey uses the boy to learn them again. Toby can show a span of different emotions within just an hour. He's such a spaz and a mess but that also helps Jack study and learn these mannerisms so he can be a better friend/boyfriend. So if it takes sitting and listening to Toby go on about something Jack has absolutely no idea about then he will.

Due to not understanding Toby completely, being a different species and all, Jack will occasionally ask personal, weird or just normally creepy questions. Not trying to be either of those things obviously, he doesn't know what to ask or how others feel about things. He's lucky it's Toby he asks these questions because all he does is cackly stupidly at them while Jack just lowers his ears and frowns in confusion. Bro just wants to know things that he will never get to personally experience or know. These questions could range from questions about body fluids, how humans digest, how they do their business, basic stuff. Sometimes Jack lacks a filter of basic modesty though, and asks things that could really catch Toby off guard and embarrass the absolute shit out of him. Technically Jack is an unconscious rizzler.

For a relationship, cheesy things like pet names don't cross either or their minds but they still subconsciously do it. Jack has tiny furs that cover his entire body that makes his skin super soft and well, fuzzy. Especially his hands and elbows. Due to this fact, Toby spat up a stupid nickname that he calls him religiously. That name being 'Fuzzy.' Jack of course doesn't understand that having fur is natural to him, having no recollection of his once human life. Jack would sometimes wonder why Toby didn't have fur, and how the other stays warm even without it. Jack knows he's human, but that still just boggles him. I feel he'd ask "So are all humans skinned at birth?" "WHAT?!-"

Jack has no eyes but can still see, but not how he used to at all. His vision is very dark and almost grainy. At night he sees mostly in infrared and relies on sound and vibrations. Toby is helpful to him for that due to the other's tics. One thing Jack would never understand. As yeah Toby IS human, but not a healthy one at that. The boy has many disorders that make him different than the average person, this confusing Jack even more about him.

Toby's problem of being completely numb has always concerned Jack. He remembered studying nursing and to be a doctor but never why, or when that was. Still occasionally Jack would recall certain things he learned and would be the aid to Toby when the other would hurt himself and not even know it. I feel like if anyone it would be Jack to notice first if the other was seeming off or weak. I feel like Jack had to point out multiple times "You're bleeding-" "am i?"

Jack would keep Toby well bandaged and healing too, somehow knowing how to treat a wound better than Toby who's been doing it ever since he stayed around the forest. Toby is very thankful to have Jack's help but that doesn't mean he would let him help every time. Jack mainly has to beg Toby to let him help, as the other is literally laying in his own blood, denying it as if he knows jack shit about what's happening or where the wound even is due to the lack of pain.

Jack doesn't fully understand how sick Toby really is. He watches the other down pills constantly and doesn't know why. The Slender sickness is a thing in this universe and all of the people who are close to that entity deal with it. Toby is like a puppet to that thing so he has the sickness pretty bad.

I like to think that they were each other's first ever hug after the incidents that happened to them. After Jack hugged Toby that's when he realized that he might actually truly love the boy.

Toby is absolutely obsessed with Jack's tail. I feel he would just sit and hold it when sad and Jack would just let him. Obviously confused on why but he eventually learned to just stop questioning this boy.

Neither of them really have a full grasp on what love actually is, but they show it as if they do. Jack is very lovable when he wants to be and Toby got used to it. Formerly being someone who hated physical touch. Only Jack. Only Jack..

There was actually a time when Toby let Jack literally take one of his kidneys. It was all Toby's choice too, doing it knowing that one, he wouldn't feel it, and two it would help Jack tame his hunger and urges. Letting Jack have one actually made the demon crave eating the other a lot less, knowing he at least got a piece. The healing process was a bitch but both were content about it. Toby was a cackling mess the whole time, seeing Jack's expression shift when Toby was perfectly willing to let the other take an organ he could live with one of. "Are you sure? i don't wanna hurt you" "you want the kidney or not." "....yeah…."

They definitely work together when getting food for Jack. Toby eats normal food and Jack can't, therefore they work together constantly and hunt food for Jack. It's mostly trespassers that enter the forest that get killed first. Toby is usually the distraction while Jack goes for the kill. Toby chops the body up and helps Jack store it.

Jack is very insecure about his face, hence the mask he wears. The way Toby found out what Jack looks like is actually pretty funny. Curiosity gets the best of him and he eventually just ripped the mask off of Jack, seeing that when the other wears it is when Jack is the most hostile. Jack obviously was frozen in embarrassment, scared his face would make Toby fear him but Toby's reaction was nothing more than a shrug. He wasn't scared of Jack or judged him for his face, in fact Toby only held Jack's face in both his hands and just stared at him. They're falling for eachother your honor.

Going along with the mask thing, Toby would definitely wear Jack's mask around just to get a reaction from the other, which would usually be Jack just yanking it back with a cackle.

Jack would totally just put his hand on Toby's head and just rub his hair like a mangy dog. "so soft-" "boy what-"

Au Headcanons

Toby would 100% be a stoner. He'd probably get zooted almost every night and Jack would get highly concerned but never think much of it. At this point he learned a lot about Toby and knows what he's gone through. He knew weed was bad but if it helped Toby then he would be there to support if the other became immobile from how absolutely zooted he'd get.

Toby always tend to fall asleep better when Jack is around. There's times where he literally leaned into the other and just fell asleep right then and there. Jack ends up having to carry him to his room or somewhere with a cushion. This happens with Jack too but he usually wakes up before Toby could tuck him in somewhere. Jack is a rather light sleeper while Toby could sleep through a nuclear war once he actually gets to sleep.

[gaymaramada]

HCs: Puss dealing with anxiety post-TLW

Since his chase with Death himself, anxiety becomes a new constant for Puss — lingering throughout the day — and it bugs him to no end. And since his anxiety stems from his fear of dying, it’s easy for him to subconsciously latch onto the smallest of things.

Sometimes he’ll just feel the tightness in his chest and the adrenaline beginning to run through his veins, but he’ll have no idea why. There’s no danger, nothing to stress over, why does he feel like this???

He gets extremely frustrated over this, which only serves to rile him up more, and by the end the day he’ll feel so drained despite not having done much at all save for some basic travel. He can’t help but feel like a failure, the words of his past lives in the Dark Forest echoing in his mind.

It takes a bit for him to open up to Perrito and (eventually) Kitty about it, his pride still holding him back. When he does, Perrito actually confesses that he still gets scared, too — that there’s still a small part of him that, as irrational as it may be, fears that Kitty and Puss will try to abandon him, too.

“It kinda feels like a hole in your heart, y’know?” He says, “But the thing is, rather than making it bigger by letting it fester and get all yucky inside you, you could instead focus on filling the rest of your heart with good things. The hole won’t go away, but the more you grow around it, the smaller it will seem, and the easier it will be to bear.”

And if Puss shed a few tears that day in the corner the ship’s cabin with Perrito in his arms — well, that’s no one’s business but his.

Puss will still get panic attacks, but they happen less and less often as time goes on to the point that they’re mostly a rarity. When he does have them, however, they hit hard. Much like the ones he has in TLW, every logical thought in his head is drowned out by the instinctive, primal urge to run, to get away, only he can’t because he’s shaking too hard and his knees are buckling beneath him and he can’t breathe.

Perrito is never late to catch his attacks, as he’s practically glued to Puss’ hip anyways; when he sees him spiraling, deep pressure therapy is his go-to, as it seems to be the most effective. Sometimes, if Puss is at a point where he can’t speak clearly and the space around them is safe/private enough, he’ll actually lie himself down on the floor and vaguely gesture to his chest so Perrito can go over and lie on top of him.

Kitty also does what she can to help; while not as naturally skilled as Perrito, she does manage to help Puss through other methods. Sometimes she’ll talk him through it, focusing on his senses to help ground him. Other times, she’ll try to distract him, rambling on about crazy past heists or idiots who tried to pull one over on her. Somehow, even if he’s still shaking, she always seems to be able to get him to crack a smile and maybe even get a laugh out of him.

It’s still hard for the cat to come to terms with this new devil on his shoulder, the pale scar on his forehead a forever reminder of its presence, but as long as he’s got his new family team with him, he’s sure he’ll be just fine.

[darkest-spawn-by-ll]

Shut up Granger

By Isabell Lagardère

Beta read and proofread by @soupduke and @ladycatastrophesstuff 🖤

Everyone carries scars from the war; some more, some less. Draco Malfoy, for example, doesn't seem to be coping very well. Then there's Hermione Granger, who has a tendency to meddle in other people's business – and she can't shut up either.

!NSFW warning!

It has been a year since the war ended, and even though it wasn't mandatory, some of the students have returned to complete their final year of school. Among these students were almost the entire Golden Trio - Hermione and Harry. Ron pursued his dream of becoming an Auror early on. In addition a few others also returned, such as Neville, Seamus, and Luna. There was also, to everyone's surprise, Draco Malfoy. He was the only Slytherin in his year, as the rest of them preferred not to show their faces in public  after the fiasco of catching the Death Eaters.

Considering there weren't that many final year students - just a little over twenty, they had all of their classes together. 

As others noticed, Draco didn't talk to anyone, and no one talked to him. People from his dorm tended to avoid him, which he didn't seem to mind at all.

'Don't you wanna ask him if he wants to sit with us, Harry?' Neville asked at dinner one night. When Hermione turned in his direction, she had to admit that it didn't seem like such a bad idea. He was, in fact, quite a pitiful sight to behold - sitting by himself at the far end of the table, staring blankly into his bowl.

Even Harry seemed to take pity on him. They still might not have liked each other very much, but Draco had saved Harry’s life during the war, just as Harry had saved his more than once. It was an unwritten truce between them, or rather between him and the Gryffindors. All of them have been traumatised by the war and didn't have the strength to deal with something as trivial as a school rivalry.

Hermione was lost in thought for a moment, only to be disturbed by the arrival of Harry and Draco, who apparently agreed to Harry's proposition. He greeted them quietly, sat down next to Hermione since the seat was free, and didn't say a word. He dined in silence beside them.

And so, it became a sort of a habit. Weeks have passed since he first sat with them, yet his demeanour remained the same. He attended classes and sat at the same table, but he hardly spoke - barely answering the occasional question or returning a greeting.

Hermione was struggling with an urge that compelled her to ensure his well-being, albeit within certain boundaries.

But one night, when she found herself unable to sleep, and being the one currently in possession of the Marauder's map, she decided to make use of it. It was around twelve-thirty in the morning and it seemed like no one was wandering the halls after curfew. She searched almost the entire map, but no one was to be found anywhere. She sighed. As she was about to put it back she saw someone coming out of the Slytherin common room. It was none other than Draco Malfoy himself.

The brown-haired girl sat on her bed, staring at the name label that read "Draco" and left footsteps behind as it moved. She fought a terrible urge to not do anything, put the map away and go to sleep. But then she found herself throwing her cloak over her shoulders and walking out of the Gryffindor common room with the map in her hand, disappearing into the darkness of the Hogwarts corridors.

She really didn't know what she was doing, nor did she know what she'd say upon meeting him. She wasn't even sure what she was trying to achieve. She was simply acting on instinct.

Draco's name on the map seemed to stop, his name no longer moving and remaining in a sunken passageway in the dungeon. She knew that since she'd come this far, there was no turning back now and continued on to where her former rival was hiding.

Silently, she padded through the dungeon. She was almost there, but there was no sign of him. 'Draco?' she whispered into the darkness, but at that exact moment, a wand appeared at her neck. Her body froze. Malfoy appeared immediately afterward.

'Granger? What the hell are you doing here?' he asked, surprised, putting his wand away.

Hermione didn't say anything in response to the way he reacted - she knew that she'd have done the same. The war had taught them that they wouldn't get very far without vigilance. She exhaled softly. 'Actually… I was looking for you.' she whispered, looking up at him.

He raised an eyebrow in surprise. 'For me?'

He looked at her curiously. Yes, he knew that Granger was an unpredictable Gryffindor with a fickle mind, she had survived because of it too... But he still didn't understand why she was there.

'Well, yes. I was gonn-' her words broke off mid-sentence as they heard quick footsteps coming from not far away behind them. They were followed by a quiet male voice that wasn't quite understandable yet. There was no need for that, though. They both knew full well who it was - Argus Filch. Someone whom they definitely didn't want to run into right now.

Draco could tell that Hermione didn’t know what to do after she gave him a sort of clueless look. He let out a small, angry sigh and grabbed her hand. She didn't resist and let him drag her through the corridors. They walked briskly for a while, but when he realised that the man's voice wasn't fading, he began to run. They kept turning and after a while, Draco gave up on finding a specific spot for hiding. His only goal was to simply "get away from him". When they finally came across a slightly open door leading to a room, they rushed inside without a second thought.

He quickly closed the door behind them and leaned against it, panting. Hermione was standing a few feet away from him and she too was gasping for breath.

'That was clo-'

'Wait!!!' she shouted unexpectedly, pointing desperately to where the door was slowly disappearing. He didn't understand at first, but as he turned around, he saw that the door he closed only moments ago was turning into stone, blending seamlessly with the surrounding walls. He tried in vain to catch the handle, but it had also disappeared, leaving no sign of the door, almost as if it had never existed.

She rushed desperately to the wall, running her hands over it. Nothing. 'Oh Merlin.' She groaned and sat down on the floor.

The room wasn't very big, in fact, it was quite small. It felt more like a slightly larger closet, about two by three metres.

Even Draco sat down with a sigh. He sat almost directly across from her, allowing him to stretch his legs. He leaned his head against the wall. Oh, how absurd the situation was. He had to chuckle softly.

She looked at him in surprise. 'You find this funny?' She asked, a little offended.

'Not at all, actually,' answering quite honestly, still laughing. 'I guess you're not that boring after all, are you, Granger? Is it because of you, Potter, and Weasley being in trouble for all these years?' he snorted.

She was about to snap at him when she realised he was talking to her. Quite willingly. Completely willing to say something out loud. She never heard that many words from him at once. So, instead of responding, she simply looked at him in surprise.

He suddenly seemed to realise that as well from her expression. His smile disappeared, replaced once again by his usual tired and impassive expression. He sighed wearily. Somehow, he was beginning to wonder why the girl had followed him at all. 'You never stop sticking your nose into things that are none of your business, do you?' he said, in a surprisingly calm and conciliatory way.

She knew what he meant. 'I wanted to make sure that-'

'Make sure?' he interrupted her. 'Why? Why would you even care about me? I mean, you couldn't care less.'

'And yet I do.' she replied, looking back at him.

'But you know I'm not gonna talk to you about it, right?' He looked at her quite seriously.

She just sighed softly in response. She had suspected it. 'Well, can't you at least try to help us escape from this place?' She tried to change the subject, with the intention of revisiting it later.

He looked at her in surprise, then paled a little, 'Wait. Don't tell me you-' he laughed again, this time rather softly and with a tinge of irony. 'This is so perfect. Seriously.' he added.

'Oh... don't tell me you also don't-'

'Yeah, that's right, Granger. I don't. And neither do you. We're stuck here.' He ruffled his hair in desperation and another laugh escaped his lips.

She eyed him curiously. His reactions were...slightly odd to say the least. Moreover, she didn't know how to articulate her thoughts effectively. Desperation was beginning to engulf her.

'How the fuck are we gonna get out of here…' he whispered, looking up at the ceiling. 'Life really is one big fucking mess.' He added even more quietly, so that she almost didn't hear him. 'And you know what?' He looked at her.

'...what?' she replied.

'It's all your fault.' He added mockingly.

She silently stared at him. She wasn't sure if he was sinking into despair or relishing the situation.

'You've got to be kidding me. So, you're just gonna to blame it on me? You're the one who led us here!' she replied a little angrily.

'If you hadn't come, this wouldn't have happened.'

'I was going to-'

'It doesn't fucking matter! If you hadn't invaded someone else's privacy, this situation would never have arisen. Now, if no one finds us, we might as well fucking die here.' He added, laughing again as he stood up abruptly.

Now, she was sure that his laughter was more out of sheer desperation.

'Maybe there's still a chance that-' she tried to speak her thoughts out loud, but he interrupted her. Rather unexpectedly.

'Shut up, please. You know that without our wands we don't stand a chance.'

'It's not certain. Maybe-'

'I said Shut. Up!' He objected, now considerably more vehement.

She stood up too, as sitting beside him made her feel quite disadvantaged. 'Don't shout at me. You've had your fair share in this too.' She crossed her arms defensively.

He didn't say anything, just staring off into space in front of him.

'They're bound to be looking for us-' his low laugh interrupted her.

'You just can't shut up, can you, Granger?' He gazed into her eyes. 'Jesus, let me live, I'm trying to think of a way to get us out of here.'

The words forming into a snarky remark were suddenly lost on her tongue as he violently slammed her against the wall. She gasped, and a wave of fear swept over her. He rested his forehead against the wall next to her head.

'What can I do to keep you quiet? Tell me.' He spoke softly, but his words had an oddly eerie undertone. She didn't know what to say. Not that she was outright afraid of him, but she was a little scared. His reactions were so… strange.

At last, she took a deep breath and gathered her courage, pushing him away slightly so that she could look directly into his eyes. 'You're gonna have to figure that out on your own because I'm not gonna just shut up.' She whispered towards the end in a tone that was now essentially threatening.

'Figure it out on my own, you say?' He said, dangerously approaching her once more.

She grinned. 'Yeah, 'cause I'm not gonna be sil-'

Her words were cut off once more, but this time in a very unexpected way. He grabbed her jaw with his right hand and forced her to look directly at him. 'Shut up, Granger.' He whispered and then kissed her passionately.

Her heart skipped a few beats. Her entire body froze mid-motion. His lips were surprisingly gentle on hers. She took a sharp inhale, but somehow, couldn't bring herself to push him away. Against her will, she relaxed slightly beneath him and began to return his light kisses. Furthermore, she couldn't help but feel a spark of desire, but at that very moment, he pulled away. He gave her a grin of amusement.

'I think I've figured it out.' He whispered arrogantly, not taking his eyes off her lips. 'And I think you want me to silence you once again.' Oh, how nonchalantly and confidently he referred to that kiss they've just shared.

Certainly, she didn't want to admit it, but... the touch of his lips made her crave more. It was absurd. So absurd… She had never really liked Malfoy, so what was this nonsense? On the other hand, another part of her mind spoke up. What could she lose by doing this? They would probably be stuck here for an indefinite amount of time. Besides, it has been a long time since she has experienced this kind of thrill… and Malfoy or not… In the end, it didn't really matter, did it? She is an adult, and she is single.

'Well... actually, I don't think it was enough. I think it'd be better if-'

He understood very well. He couldn't help but grin once more, but this time while kissing those tasty lips. They were surprisingly sweet and soft, much more than he had anticipated. This time, Hermione was cooperating without hesitation. She passionately attacked his lips, just as he did hers.

'Don't worry, I'll make sure to keep that chatty mouth of yours fully occupied.' He growled in her ear.

She was about to say something provocative in response, but he caught her off guard. Again. He firmly grabbed her by the throat and glared at her. He wasn't holding her tightly enough to cause pain, but it still made it difficult for her to breathe. It also served as a reminder of who was in charge.

Then, he plunged back down onto her sweet lips, savouring them fully. His body slowly enclosed hers. He could feel the pleasant warmth radiating from her, as if beckoning him to come closer.

He managed to slip his right leg between hers, eliciting a surprised gasp and creating a little space between her legs.

'Tell me, Granger, what's under that robe?' He growled in her ear once more, relishing in the sight of her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

She was about to give some sort of reply, but he stopped her by placing a finger on her lips. 'Who said you could talk?' His voice sounded firm and commanding. A chill ran down her spine once more. This time, however, it was caused by a completely different feeling. A subtle grin formed on her face. 'Good girl.' He whispered as his other hand began to roam over her body. He felt her shiver under his touch. He would be lying if he said he wasn't flattered, because he was, a fucking lot.

Her hands, which were resting lightly on the wall behind her, slowly moved towards the body of the man standing in front of her.

Despite the late hour and the absence of anyone around, he was still dressed in his usual suit. The only change was that his tie was missing, and the top button of his shirt was unbuttoned.

When her hands reached those very buttons Draco froze for a second. Then his hand roamed over her body, grabbing her wrist and slightly tightening his grip around her neck.

Momentarily taking his hand from her neck, he used it  to grab her other wrist and pinning her hands above her head. He held onto them tightly, making it difficult for her to break free from his grip. He raised his eyebrows in amusement when she tried to wriggle away from him nonetheless.

One of his hands slid down grabbing her jaw, allowing him to turn her head to the side more easily, exposing her neck as he began to kiss her neck gently.

A quiet sigh escaped from her lips. She felt his warm breath on her neck and couldn't help but shiver slightly. Just as she was beginning to feel his crotch hardening against her thigh, she moved her leg closer to his, causing him a sharp intake of breath.

'You just won't give up,' he muttered softly, picking her up unexpectedly. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and in one swift motion, he opened her cloak.

He could see her light pink nightgown. 'Lovely,' he commented, and began to kiss along her neckline. In response, she tilted her head slightly and coiled her fingers in his hair.

He squeezed her exposed thigh and slowly slid his hand under her nightgown.

Hermione could feel the blood rushing through her body. Her eyes darkened slightly, and she felt a growing excitement alongside the courage to break Malfoy's unspoken rules.

She made another feeble attempt at unbuttoning his shirt. At that moment, he lowered her back on her legs, Hermione's cloak slipping off in the process and falling to the ground.

She could see him swallow. She knew she had caught him a little off guard. This time, she gave him a haughty grin and pulled him closer by the belt into a passionate kiss. At some point during her attempt to regain control, she opened her mouth and allowed him to enter it with his tongue. However, in doing so, he began to roam his hands over her body again. He was delighted to find that she wasn't wearing a bra, so he gently ran his hand over her breast, stopping with his thumb at her nipple. She gasped in delight.

He felt a slight twitch in his crotch area. This girl had a much greater impact on him than he anticipated.

'Unzip my pants,' he whispered between kisses as he firmly grasped her neck once again. She looked up into his eyes, allowing him to see the sparkle within them.

She grabbed his belt sharply and pulled him a little bit closer to her. He gasped. She undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants. Before he could react, her hand slipped inside them and touched the full length of him. This time, a moan escaped his lips.'You don't look it, Granger.' He muttered softly.

'Neither do you, Malfoy.' She returned the gesture and spoke for the first time in a while... this time, however, he didn't seem to mind as much. She was almost certain that her hand in his pants was the cause. Her hand ran over his already hard cock, causing him to close his eyes and exhale deeply.

But his hands were slowly moving down her body. One of his hands was still on her breasts, and the other was slowly moving lower. He slid his hand under her nightgown once more, relishing the sensation of her beautifully soft skin. Then, he allowed himself to pull down her panties, letting them fall to the floor. She didn't resist.

He gently caressed her crotch and elicited a beautiful sigh from her lips. He did this several more times before entering her with two fingers. He felt her knees buckle slightly, so he held her with his other hand for support.

Slowly, she had to stop what she was previously doing and grab onto Draco. She felt her legs beginning to shake slightly and her knees buckle. She was afraid she wouldn't be able to stand up right much longer.

Sensing her doubts, he decided to push the situation a little bit further.

He then wrapped his hands around her hips. Slowly and carefully, they lowered themselves to the floor, resting on their robes.

But then Hermione took advantage of his momentary inattention and was certain that she had thus stepped onto thin ice indeed. She grabbed the edge of his shirt by the buttons and yanked. Some rolled off with a quiet jerk, while others remained in place. Either way, she could finally see his chest.

Her pupils dilated with understanding as she realised why he was so reluctant to let her unbutton his shirt. His entire chest was covered in scars, some large, others small. Some wounds were clearly much deeper than others. She suspected she had done something she shouldn't have...but right now, dealing with it was the last thing on her mind. She felt him stiffen as she moved. She noticed how his eyes darkened. She knew she couldn't let him dwell on it for too long, or she would regret it.

She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him into deeper, more heated kisses. When he started to return them, it was a little involuntary at first. At last, her hands began to explore his body. She knew he'd want to resist, but she wanted him to know that she didn't mind the scars and they wouldn't deter her.

So, she gently ran her hands over his chest and then down his back... noticing the scars that covered his skin. However, she managed to convince Draco to forget about it with her gentle touches. He softly sighed into her lips.

'You're going to pay for that.' he whispered dangerously in her lips.

She began to slowly pull down his pants, but he stopped her by grabbing her hands and pinning them above her head. He then ran his hand over her crotch. He wanted to continue where he left off, so he put two of his fingers inside her again. She moaned softly as she felt him start to move them and arched slightly as he added another finger.

She wanted him so badly... needed to feel him inside her.

Thank Merlin he unknowingly obliged. He pulled his fingers out of her and gently caressed her from her crotch to her belly. Then, he lightly bit her neck and allowed her to assist him in pulling down his pants.

When he lifted himself up a little above her. She ran her palm over his chest again and gave him a gentle smile. As if to give himself courage, he let his shirt fall completely off his shoulders.

When she saw the dark mark on his left forearm, she tried her best to suppress a slight wince. Some things reminded her too much of pain... the pain he lived with continuously.

All of her thoughts suddenly dissipated as she felt his cock touch her entrance. She whimpered and lifted her hips slightly to make it easier for him to enter her body. He didn't hesitate for long and did what she had wanted so badly. He finally pushed inside her. A few more gasps escaped from her lips, while he grunted softly. She was so tight he could barely keep still, for he was surely, but slowly, losing control with each additional movement inside her...

His hand caught her again, this time below the neck, and he began to thrust forcefully. She moaned softly but maintained eye contact with him. A playful smirk played on her lips. He returned it. The sight of her enjoying herself was truly priceless. He picked up the pace and adjusted his grip on her so he could control his thrusts better.

Slowly but surely, a fog of almost unbearable desire and passion began to envelop him. He could feel it consuming him from within. He felt himself needing more - more of her body, more of her touch. It had been so long since he had felt this way with someone.

Another wave of arousal swept over him as he felt her begin to tighten around him. Oh, how delightfully sensitive Granger is.

Her hands roamed over his back, occasionally leaving light scratches. Her body was feverish. She couldn't even describe how much pleasure Malfoy was giving her.

She pulled him into more kisses. They were now purely predatory, expressing their passion and desire for more. They were intermittent, as there was always a sharp intake of breath or a longing sigh that escaped their lips between them.

Draco pulled away from her, somewhat involuntarily. He knelt down and gripped her thighs tightly, pulling her closer to him. He had much better access to her that way.

He felt like he couldn't hold on for much longer. He couldn't control it. He couldn't. He could see her writhing beneath him, he had a perfect view of her. Perfect view of her hot body. No, he couldn't hold it anymore.

'Fuck-' he growled, pulling his cock out of her and closing his eyes sharply. A powerful surge of arousal coursed through his body, followed by a flood of intense release. When he opened his eyes, he saw the Granger lying beneath him, panting. Her belly was decorated with his semen.

Although he may have been self-absorbed... it certainly wasn't about these things. Abruptly, he leaned over her again. She hadn't expected it. He firmly grasped her neck and began to pleasure her with his hand. It seemed to have gone very well, judging by her reactions. His hand moved quickly, teasing her as he became lost in the sound of her moans.

Her legs were beginning to shake violently, and her pelvis occasionally twitching. He knew that she didn't need much time to reach the peak of pleasure. He could see her closing her eyes, gasping as she unconsciously moved to meet his movements.

'Say "please", Granger.' He growled but didn't stop. He knew she would comply with his request because of the state she was in. There was no way she could risk stopping.

'Please,' she whispered, her voice slightly shaky as she struggled to catch her breath.

'What?' he said, a mischievous smirk forming on his lips.

'Please, Malfoy…' she said a little more clearly.

Smugness sparkled in his eyes. He gently nibbled on the smooth skin of her neck while his hands continued to move without pause. On the contrary, they sped up.

Finally, he let go of her neck and put his other hand lightly on her lower abdomen. As he expected, it had a very strong effect on her. She was so close...

Then, she jerked violently, and an indescribable whimper escaped her throat.

She gasped sharply before opening her eyes. Malfoy sat down beside her. She looked over at him and smiled foolishly.

'Have I really taken your voice away?' Draco said mostly to himself, grinning at Granger with amusement, who still hadn't said anything. '...might do this more often, then.' He growled in a barely audible whisper, watching as her body shook slightly in response to his words.

He pulled his pants back up and retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket. He handed it to her so she could clean herself since they didn't have their wands. She looked at him gratefully and rubbed her belly. Then, she put on the few pieces of clothing she had. It wasn't that warm in here after all.

When she noticed that he had thrown a shirt over himself, which, thanks to her actions, could no longer be buttoned, she looked at him apologetically. 'I'm sorry... I didn't know…' she whispered.

'It doesn't matter now.' He answered her,  surprisingly calm. 'Just please don't tell anyone.'

She knew he was talking about the scars...and she couldn't - and didn't really want to - know what he must have gone through or how much he must have suffered when he came to them.

'You can trust me. I won't tell anyone.' She assured him and sat down beside him. She rested her head wearily against his shoulder. 'Are you okay with this?' She asked to be sure. He didn't answer her, but he threw his cloak over them once they were sitting on hers. So, she took that as a "yes".

'So, what are we gonna do now?' She whispered after another moment of silence.

'Are you asking for another round?' Malfoy laughed softly, but then became a little more serious. 'We can't do anything. We have to wait for someone to find us...and I'm not worried that Potter will quietly turn the whole castle upside down to find you.'

'You're probably right.' She answered him, feeling her eyelids slowly closing. The warmth and scent emanating from him were surprisingly comforting.

'You know… I know that you're gonna send me to hell with this… but, I still want to offer..' she began again. 'If you ever change your mind… I want you to know that I'll always be there to listen.' She hadn't expected an answer, which is why she was surprised to hear his voice.

'Thank you for the offer... but honestly, I'm not sure if I'll ever take advantage of it... Seriously, why are you doing this?' His voice sounded steady, yet devoid of any emotion. It made her realise that he was trying to hide them right now.

'I think everyone deserves someone to talk to about things like this, and... I just felt like I could offer you help.'

'Oh, those Gryffindors,' he chuckled softly, but didn't say anything more in response to her. She wasn't expecting that, either.

He could feel her body slowly relaxing, her breathing becoming regular as she drifted off to sleep.

He looked her up and down. She looked so innocent and unconcerned, yet he was certain she carried many scars with her as well. He sighed softly. Granger was really annoying, but still, she was right. And she probably didn't even realise how much further she had pushed him today by allowing herself to touch his scars. She was the first one besides him to see and touch them.

He sighed again, feeling sentimental for some reason. He decided he would rather not think about that anymore... or the fact that he had slept with Granger. He had no idea what had gotten into him and had suddenly started to get upset with her, for no reason at all. However, he needed a way to calm his thoughts of... being trapped in a small space again. He couldn't handle it anymore.

ooOOOoo

In the morning, she was awakened by a slight shaking. She opened her tired eyes, and looked around, feeling disoriented. 'Good morning.' Only at that moment did she jerk slightly, as she realised where she was and why she was there.

'Morning…' she answered him softly.

'I think I have some good news for you.' He added, noticing that she was slowly starting to close her eyes again.

'Hm?'

'Look.' Reluctantly, she opened her eyes again and only then did she notice. Not far ahead of them they saw the door once again.

'When?' She muttered in surprise as she began to stand up.

'I don't know... I woke you up right after I did, and the door was already there.'

They didn't linger for long and grabbed all of their belongings. Hermione wrapped herself up as much as possible in her cloak, while Draco simply picked up his own. It was obvious just by looking at the fabric that it had been used to sweep a dusty chamber. Which was almost true.

Cautiously, they made their way down the corridor, unsure of the time but assuming it was early enough in the morning to avoid encountering too many people.

Well, they were wrong, and as they approached the Potions classroom, past which Hermione could take the stairs to the upper floors and Malfoy, on the other hand, could get to the common room they met up with part of their group. They were mostly Gryffindors, including Harry.

No one said anything, they just stared at each other dumbfounded. That level of awkwardness. No one was sure if they should say anything and if so, what they should say at all. Hermione suspected that there was no point in explaining anything at this moment. It was enough to look at them. Both of them were dishevelled; Malfoy's button-down shirt was unbuttoned, and she was wrapped in a soiled cloak. The silent clues were unfortunately too much...

She would've liked to sink into the ground in shame and never show her face to her friends again.

'Um, hi,' finally came out of Harry, rather puzzled. He didn't wait for a reply, thankfully. 'So, I guess I'll see you in class?' They both nodded silently and quickly walked past them.

Hermione's face was flushed red all the way to her neck, while Malfoy maintained his usual unreadable expression. 'God…' Hermione hissed softly when they were around the corner.

Draco grinned slightly. 'Well, that was an unexpected meeting indeed... but it's too late to regret anything now, everyone knows what we did.' She gave him a slight frown; this was really the last thing she wanted to hear. He just shrugged his shoulders in response, indicating to her that he was just telling the truth. She sighed softly.

Just before their paths diverged, they both paused, seemingly contemplating what to say to one another. Yes, it was just sex, but somehow, they felt they shouldn't pretend like nothing happened. Because it did, and not unintentionally, they both knew exactly what they were doing. They wanted it.

Finally, Hermione began. 'Um, so... would you mind if I came to talk to you again tonight?' She appeared remarkably innocent despite the implications of her words.

He found it hard to suppress a slight smile. 'I would be happy to make you shut up once more.' He answered her with a playful smile.

'Same time, same place?'

He simply nodded in response, and then they parted ways. A slight smile played on both of their faces, without them realising it. Although they didn't admit it, they had finally found something that brought a bit of happiness into their lives.

[justalittleobsessed]

First Meeting: Move Along Mikey and Relinquish Mikey

A little story on how @justalittleobsessed (me!) and @spacemimz's Mikeys meet! In honor of the @tmnt-fandom-family-reunion!

Part 1 in "The Adventures of Mike and Mikey"

Part 2 ->

Mikey woke up in a strange place. It was sort of dark but illuminated by small crystals. The kraangified turtle was scared and alone. This time he was scared in a different way than usual.

Mikey was used to the inside of the technodrome and its lonely interior. This… is different. 

Looking around frantically, Michelangelo tried to find anything familiar. In his peripheral vision he saw something move. Out of instinct Mikey turned in one swift motion and used his kraang arm to slice apart whatever moved close by.

The thing moving collapsed to the floor with a thud, and blood pooling around it. He stepped closer to inspect whatever he had just slain. He noticed that his mind was clearer than usual, the kraang were still there but quieter than what he has become accustomed to. This unforeseen clarity is what allowed Mikey to feel shock when he saw himself crumpled on the floor. Himself.

Stepping back, Mikey fought the urge to throw up. Odd, he hadn't felt that in... how long has it been? How much time had passed since he was kraangified? Doubts and fear clouded the turtle's mind and distressed clicks escaped his throat.

While he panicked and tried to make sense of all this, the figure on the floor got up and clicked in response. Got up. Got up and clicked in response to him. As the two Mikeys stared at each other, the one who'd been dead just a moment ago took a step closer to the kraangified Mikey. This scared him even more and while retracting into his shell he swung his kraang arm once again, watching as the other Mikey died a second time.

Panicking inside his shell, Mikey could hear the Kraang whisper louder again. "You need us for guidance" "You are weak without us" "You cannot do anything without us" "You won't live without us"– knock knock knock, tap tap. What? That... that was the tap system Leo used. Leo? Who is Leo..? Is the other turtle Leo..? No that can't be right but how would he know the tap system?

The kraangified turtle peeked his head out and saw the other turtle sitting close and carefully rubbing his shell.

Was he trying to calm Mikey? If so, why…? Shouldn't he be dead, twice, by now? Did Mikey fail? Were the Kraang right and did he really need their guidance?

The nervous clicks picked up again and Mikey's vision clouded with tears. From the other turtle clicks emerged as well. Did Mikey understand their meaning? Not really... but he understood their intent. Maybe this other turtle was friendly.

Maybe he could help Mikey clear his mind, find home. Home? What is that again?

Mikey emerged from his shell, slowly. This time he didn't want to hurt the other terrapin. This gesture was met with kind sounding clicks and more pats to both the shell and his arm as soon as that emerged too.

“Ok,” The other turtle said, standing up and stretching his muscles, “So I think we might’ve got off on the wrong foot here.” He smiles despite having just died twice, like nothing is the matter. “My name is Michelangelo, but most people call me Mikey. Or Mike. I’m not uh… upset or anything by the way. I can’t be killed easily, as you can kinda see. Or well I can be killed easily, I just come back to life. You seem scared, and we’re in this new place, and I kinda snuck up on you.” He shrugs, smile not wavering once. “No worries.”

No… no worries? Another Michelangelo?

Kraang Mikey glanced at Michelangelo. He seemed to understand that there was no threat coming from this other him. He looked at the other Mikey with big eyes – if it hadn't been for the terrifying kraang goop he probably could've resembled a puppy. 

So kraang Mikey followed suit and stood up as well. He was less than brave to actually stand up straight and his hand was nervously fidgeting in front of his chest.

“Okay buddy! We gotta give you a nickname so no one gets confused,” Michelangelo spoke as if this situation wasn't beyond weird. “We could just be two different versions of our nicknames. I can be Mike and you Mikey. Or the other way around. Or you can pick! Is there some nickname you want? I’m a pretty open dude.”

He’s still smiling, the other him. Like a default setting. A kind, open smile that invites… it invites people in. Accepts them without a second thought. He misses seeing those smiles.

Mikey opened his mouth to respond, to say something. Anything to seem like a person with actual feelings but a chirp was all he could muster. This frustrated the kraang covered turtle and Mike could tell by the frow of his eyebrow and the way his kraang spikes feathered upward.

He took a step back, weary of the situation. “Hey, hey, calm down. It's okay! Talking's weird for you, that's fine. We can figure something else out.” Mike assured. The concern was still visible on his face, staying there as he thought about what to do. Upon coming to his conclusion he snapped his fingers, looking at Mikey. “How about a tapping system? One tap means yes and two means no. That should be doable for you, right?” The response came in the form of a nod. “Nodding is good too! Noted. Jotted down. Put in my memory.”

Stepping closer to Mikey once more, Mike held out his hand. A peace offering to his frightened counterpart.

Mikey took Mike's hand in his own and the pair started walking.

They didn’t know where they were yet, but that didn’t matter. They weren’t alone, and that was more than enough for now.

[archiveikemen]

Liam Evans Main Story: Chapter 25 (Blind Love)

I do not own any of the Ikemen Series content being uploaded on this blog, everything belongs to CYBIRD. Please support them by playing their games and buying stories. Not 100% accurate, expect mistakes.

read this before interacting with my posts

Several seasons had passed with the scenery around me changing colours. Nothing changed about me, I was still spending time in the world of darkness as a fairytale writer.

Of course, Liam had always been by my side, smelling like vanilla.

There were days when I missed where I originally was before meeting Crown, but I never once regretted my decision to stay.

Even after you've made your choice, there will never be a definitive answer to what’s right or wrong.

There would surely be people who would point their fingers at me, criticising me for making the “wrong” choice.

But it doesn't matter to me.

This is what I want for myself.

…

In the basement surrounded by the smell of herbs, Roger read through my report.

Roger: This information is quite valuable. Well done, young lady.

Kate: I’m humbled.

Recently, I’ve been writing about not only Liam’s, but everyone’s curses.

It was said that people born with curses were destined to face a tragic death.

I knew that there was no way to change fate, but that doesn't mean we should just sit back and accept it without resistance.

(If there’s anything I can do, I’ll do it. Even if it’s something small.)

Roger: Come to think of it, Liam has been having less frequent episodes lately, hasn't he?

Kate: Yes, they’ve become significantly less frequent. Liam is still periodically satisfying his curiosity, but now he’s more careful when doing so.

Roger smiled in satisfaction, his facial expression seeming rather sadistic.

Roger: It’s not very good for a former doctor to make guesses based solely on speculation, but…

Roger: … Liam’s episodes may be caused by his strong survival instincts.

Kate: Survival instincts?

Roger: He engages in potentially life-threatening activities to feel alive.

Roger: It sounds rather contradictory, but it’s important for humans to feel alive.

Roger: Therefore, you should stay by his side, young lady.

Roger: Because right now, to Liam, you are the one who's making him feel alive.

Kate: … I’ll always be with him.

Roger: Well, if ever he gets tired of you, I’ll take care of you. You’re my favourite, you know?

Roger ruffled my hair with his large hand like he were petting a dog.

Kate: Wah…!

Roger: Haha, your hair’s all messed up now.

…

Standing behind the door to the basement, Liam could hear the conversation between Kate and Roger.

Liam: “You’re my favourite, you know?”

Liam frowned when he heard those words, feeling uneasy.

Liam: What if Roger takes Kate away from me? What should I do…

Liam: N-No, no. It’s a horrible thing to doubt Kate. … I’ll trust her and wait. … I’ll do my best.

Liam felt the strong urge to run downstairs and swear his unwavering allegiance to Kate, but he resisted it and sat down on a step of the stairs.

He looked like a pet cat waiting for his owner.

Liam: … Ahh, it’s raining.

The rain was a sign of an episode's onset. It always felt ice cold, but today it felt as gentle as the rain in springtime.

He heard the voice of his “other self” in his heart.

Hey, Liam. I haven't had many chances to appear lately, huh?

(... Yeah. It’s because I’ve been focusing on moving forward to tomorrow with Kate.)

Hm? Ahaha, you’re so selfish.

(Yeah. I’m sorry for always running away. But from now on, I won’t run away anymore. I want to live.)

Living is something that’s difficult for you. You know, there’s no telling what could happen to you tomorrow, right?

(... I know.)

(But even so… I still want to try my best. I’m good at that.)

… I’ll be watching you.

I’ll pay you a visit when you’re at the brink of death again. See you.

When Liam opened his eyes, the rain in his heart stopped…

Instead, he heard the sound of Kate’s footsteps as she came up from the basement.

…

The clicking sounds of the typewriter keys echoed through my quiet room.

The things I had witnessed and the stories I had written with these fingers were sometimes inhumane and unforgivable.

My fear and sorrow never faded away, sometimes I even felt scared of what tomorrow would bring me.

(But I want to keep moving towards it no matter what.)

(And I’ll reach my hand out to the man I love, because that’s what “I love you” means to me.)

Liam: … Kate?

Kate: Liam, you’re back. Good job on your rehearsals.

Liam: Thanks. Oh, I saw that the door was left ajar, so I came in without knocking—

Kate: I thought it was about time you came back, so I left it open on purpose.

Kate: So I can see your face as soon as you’re back, you know?

Liam: That’s an adorable reason. … I wanted to see you as soon as possible too.

I couldn't help but be captivated by Liam’s smile, gestures, and even every one of his beautiful eyelashes.

(... It’s like he’s always getting more and more attractive.)

Liam’s radiance knew no bounds, it was always captivating the hearts of everyone who looked at him.

It feels a little embarrassing when someone this attractive looks at me so passionately.

Liam: Kate, can you close your eyes?

Kate: Fufu, okay.

Even though my eyes were closed, I already knew what Liam was up to.

Liam: OK. You can open your eyes now.

A strong fragrance tickled my nose, and a pink modern rose was placed in my hand.

Kate: Wow, it’s beautiful… . Thank you, Liam.

Liam: Mm, you’re welcome.

Liam often bought me modern roses on ordinary days like this.

(Now that I think of it, I’ve never asked him about the reason.)

Kate: Why do you always buy me modern roses? This flower isn’t easy to obtain.

I recalled Victor once telling me that this type of rose was a rare breed made through hybridization.

Liam: Hmm— I wonder why?

(Ah, I know that look. He has this facial expression whenever he’s trying to hide something.)

I gently placed the rose on my desk and reached my hand to his side…

Kate: Take this!

I tickled him relentlessly.

Liam: Hey, s-stop…

When I chased Liam around the room as he tried to escape, we tumbled onto the bed and messed up the sheets.

Liam: Aha, AHAHA! Okay, I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you honestly…!

Liam: Hah… Kate… you really show no mercy.

Kate: Fufu, sorry. But I really do want to know the reason.

Liam laughed while laying on the bed.

Liam: Back when I was trying to buy you flowers for the first time, the florist told me about flower language.

Liam: She said that modern roses symbolise “gratitude”.

Kate: … Gratitude.

Liam: Mm, that's right. I’m grateful to have met you, for being able to spend time with you by your side, and to you for forgiving me for always sticking to you.

Liam: … Haha, it’ll be daylight by the time I’m done if I keep going, so let’s leave it as that…

Liam: Kate, I’m always grateful for everything about you.

Liam: Thank you for existing, Kate.

Those words, spoken so casually and without hesitation, carried the weight of the loneliness he had been putting up with all this time.

(Ever since Liam was born, no one has thanked him for existing.)

(Moreover, his life was always being trampled on by others and that hurt him.)

(And yet…)

– Flashback Start –

Liam: Your heart belongs to you, and only you. I hope that you’ll let me help you stay just the way you are.

(He was the protector of my heart.)

…

Liam: Everyone wants a shining star, and if it pleases them and means something to them…

Liam: I want to be that star. I don’t care if I’m just a fake.

(He struggled while trying to please everyone.)

…

Liam: Therefore, you’ll be alright, Kate. I hope you’ll always be someone who believes in tomorrow.

– Flashback End –

While continuing to live between life and death, Liam had a beautiful heart that cherished others.

Why does it have to be so difficult for him to live with a kind heart?

But still, even though there was nothing I could do to change that, I wanted to continue staying by Liam’s side and expressing my love for him.

Kate: … I should be the one thanking you.

His slightly tousled hair smelled like sweet vanilla today too.

Kate: Hey, Liam.

Kate: Thank you for being born. I’m very glad that I met you.

Liam: …

Liam: Ah…

Liam: … My heart beating so fast right now, I can feel it hammering against my chest.

Liam: Right now… I… I feel so alive.

Liam pulled me into his arms, as if he wanted me to listen to his heart beating.

His heart had a regular rhythm like it was taking care of a tiny animal.

Liam: Let me kiss you after you display that flower. Once I start touching you, I won’t be able to stop.

Liam: And… I want more than just a kiss. I want lots of kisses.

…

As our flushed skin and bodies came together, we laid down together on the sheets.

(Ah…)

Kate: Look outside, Liam! Isn’t that Betelgeuse?

Liam: Yeah, you’re right. Amazing, it's like it’s shouting at you to look at it.

The Betelgeuse shining brightly in the night sky reminded me of Liam.

They were both dazzling, beautiful, and made people want to reach their hands out towards them.

Liam: Did you know, Kate?

Liam: Betelgeuse is red because it’ll eventually explode and die.

Kate: Explode…?

Liam: Yup. It turns red as it burns brighter and brighter… and I heard from somewhere that its lifespan also gets shorter.

(... The end of the shiny red star in the sky.)

Liam: As the saying goes, curiosity kills the cat… I wonder what will be the cause of my death.

Liam was clearly referring to his inevitable tragic demise due to his curse.

But that was definitely not all he was referring to.

Having experienced a close call with death once, Liam understood how painfully fragile human life could be.

The longer someone lived, the more prevalent death felt to them.

(That would certainly be the same for me. Everyone’s life would come to an end someday.)

Liam: … You know, Kate. If I can choose how I die—

Liam lifted my body up in his arms—.

He then guided my hands to wrap them around his neck.

Through the contact with his skin, I could feel the steady beating of his heart that was a sign of life.

Liam: Please, if I can choose how I die… I want my life to end in your hands.

Kate: In my hands?

Liam: … Yes. I want to be put to sleep forever by your hands.

Liam: Only then, for the first time, I’ll feel glad to have been born.

I could tell from the look in his rose-coloured eyes that he was neither joking nor speaking figuratively, it was his genuine wish.

It sounded depressing for him to ask to be killed. But, to me, that was him wishing for himself to keep on living.

What Liam was trying to tell me was that he wanted me to stay with him and watch over him until the day fate puts an end to him.

(And so, I…)

I gently tightened my grip on his neck, just enough for him to still breathe.

Kate: … Okay. I’ll be the one to end your life with my own hands.

Kate: Therefore, please remain by my side until the very end.

Kate: Keep on reaching out to me, who will be waiting for you in your tomorrows.

Liam: … Of course. You are the only one I’ll look at.

Just like any other day in your life, the world is unkind to you today.

(But…)

In this neverending nightmare, I will continue to beg for your life.

[blackjackkent]

Come morning, Lae'zel has That Conversation up and ready, rofl.

"Is it me, or have you been looking at me differently?"

Rakha asks the question calmly as they begin to pack up camp for the morning. She can already guess at plenty of reasons why Lae'zel's attitude towards her as changed. The gith disapproved of what happened to Alfira after all. And it's likely she dislikes Rakha's comfort with Astarion, also.

It's a surprisingly troubling thought. More than anyone else really in the camp, except perhaps Wyll, she has found she wants Lae'zel's good opinion. It has impacted her behavior, her perception of the darker urges that threaten to overwhelm her. It has made her want to be more in control and not succumb to that darkness.

But, no doubt, Lae'zel nevertheless disapproves of her, she thinks, and that bothers her.

She is, however, in fact incorrect.

"I have a confession to make," Lae'zel says, her matter-of-fact tone matching Rakha's. "I was too hasty to judge you. I thought you witless. Gutless. Unimpressively bland."

Rakha blinks slowly. "And what about now?" she asks cautiously. These feel like they should be insults, except for the use of the past tense, which implies something has changed.

A muscle twitches in Lae'zel's jaw and her eyes narrow in sudden attentiveness. "Now, well. You've earned my respect. And more still - you've proven your wits. You are efficient and dominant, in and out of battle. You've proven your courage; I swear, you would tear the horns off one dragon to plunge into another."

Her voice has taken on a deeper, throatier note that is unlike her. "And you're hardly bland. Your scent alone is enough to make my neck sweat and my hairs stand on end."

(A/N: Interesting! This is NOT exactly the dialogue for this scene that she got from Hector! This is not even the dialogue that we got on my stream playthrough with Jayce where we're romancing her intentionally. I'm assuming that this is because Rakha's approval with her is higher, which is actually wild. It's a slightly less blunt approach than Hector and Jayce got, just by a smidgen. Fascinating. I love Lae'zel so much.)

Rakha cocks her head slowly to one side. Hmm.

She cannot recall having a conversation like this before, but the words Lae'zel chooses are, as always, deliberate and easy enough to parse.

Just as Rakha automatically remembered how to position herself for battle, how to see the Weave and call its power into her fingers, so she also has an instinctive understanding of what Lae'zel is talking about. Sex. Desire. Physical hunger, of a sort different from that which the beast calls up. Her body remembers these things, even if her mind does not.

"Hold on," she says slowly. "Are you coming on to me?"

Lae'zel gives an exaggerated sigh. "Isn't it obvious?"

Well, it is now.

Lae'zel fixes her with an attentive glare. "I want to taste you," she says, as crisply as if giving a military order. "Perhaps tonight. Perhaps later. But I want it all the same." Her eyes narrow sharply. "Do you?"

Rakha has to sit and think about this for a moment. In truth, she's intrigued. Lae'zel doesn't seem to be offering this out of any particular sentimentality, and Rakha wouldn't really know how to answer if she was. But physically... hm.

Lae'zel is fierce, almost as violent as Rakha herself, and that shared violence is at the root of any attraction between them. Rakha recalls Lae'zel describing a knife twisting in an enemy's belly with a note of relish in her voice, and perhaps the heat it stoked in her own gut was not only the dark urge in her mind, but something warmer. Her pulse thuds a little harder at the memory.

And Lae'zel is one of the few people she trusts in this strange world, one of the few who has given her advice that has shaped her limited worldview. It bothered her to think that she might have broken that bond; she wishes to cultivate it, nurture it, if it is not already lost. And given the damage Rakha has already wrought, Lae'zel is offering trust in her own right - sex requires vulnerability on both sides.

And most of all, she is curious, as always - hungry for experience to provide new pieces of the puzzle that is the world around her and how she fits into it. For new understanding of herself.

"Yes," she says calmly. "I want to share my body with you."

Unlike Astarion's surprise when Rakha opened her throat to him, Lae'zel seems as if she expected this all along - and she's pleased. "Yes," she says with a slight smirk, folding her arms. "Perhaps one night soon, I will come to your bunk and take what is mine. Until that night comes, I shall keep enjoying your scent."

She turns and walks away without another word. Rakha feels a sort of shiver run up her back that, for once, has nothing to do with the beast in her head - and that, too, is intriguing.

-----

On the road, later, she watches Lae'zel with some curiosity; as she has not in the past, she focuses now on taking in the woman's stance, bearing, physical form. Notes, for later use.

"You said I've earned your respect," she comments out of nowhere as they stop for a midday meal. "So why are you so rude all the time?" It's not a complaint, not even really a demand, just an acknowledgment of confusion.

Lae'zel looks almost embarrassed, eyeing the apple in her hand as if it wronged her somehow. "If you must know," she says, "Vlaakith requires everything of her children. I can't count how many bruises I've inflicted, can't measure how much blood I've drawn in the Undying Queen's name. I know only blood-red and death-black. My mind is silver and my body steel. I am what I must be, say what I must be, to survive every beast I face and every wound I bear."

Rakha nods slowly. Yes, she understands that. It is why the two of them connected, right from the beginning. They say what they mean.

It is, if she is honest, why she felt safe in saying yes.

-----

The night is, in the end, a strange and fumbling business. Lae'zel begins in the dominant mode that Rakha expected - but Rakha has no intention of submitting. It is no more in her nature than Lae'zel's. So it is combat, in its way - the same violence that comes as naturally as breathing to them both.

Lae'zel is quicker and lither than Rakha, more experienced; she knows how to turn the tide with a touch in the right place - or a stinging blow at the right moment. Rakha, meanwhile, has the advantage of sheer weight and bulk, an exhilarating dominance of force rather than cunning. It's yet another struggle for control - but for once that struggle is pleasurable. For once the beast is quiet.

It is not romance - whatever Rakha requires for that, she hasn't found it yet. But it is a strange moment of calm. Almost of peace.

For another night, and for yet another reason, she sleeps soundly.

-----

Narrator: You awake in pain. Your back, your hands, even your tongue ache.

The morning has an icy chill to it; she wakes with the prickle of goosebumps on her flesh. Lae'zel is already up and dressed, standing in the doorway of the small ruin where they hid themselves away.

"It's time to rise," she says crisply. "Dawn is upon us."

Rakha considers trying to articulate any of the chaotic thoughts rolling through her mind. That this was an expression of trust, that she is grateful. That she was curious and the curiosity has now been sated. That they were matched in their violence and it invigorated her. That she enjoyed herself, in an odd way she did not expect. That she is cold in the wake of the night's heat.

But there is no sentimentality here - not from her and not from Lae'zel. Their needs have been met. And now it is over.

"Yes, of course," she says gruffly. "We will leave at first light."

[happy-hermit]

grian comforting scar over something, maybe during the whole moon big/no sleep thing? scar really doesn't get enough comfort fic

(you are so incredibly right scar needs more comfort fic right now and always please and thank you <3 hope you like this!)

Grian goes to the observatory on instinct, now. The sun sinks below the horizon, as foreboding as it is beautiful, and the moon rises and tugs on the very ground that they walk on. Phantoms screech and circle almost immediately, and if Grian followed the ones to the left, he’d probably run into Mumbo. If he went further, he’d find Impulse. To the right, Pearl.

He doesn’t try. Instead, he launches into the air and attempts to outrun his own phantoms, and doesn’t quite register that there’s more than there should be until he touches down gently outside of his observatory. It clicks into place when he walks — well, he could almost call it floating — into the room and spies Scar, sitting against the wall and fiddling with red fabric. Grian blinks, and opens his eyes again with great effort. The phantoms get a little louder, for a moment. Like they know how hard he’s resisting the urge to fall asleep.

“Scar,” Grian says, and forgets to pitch it like a question.

Scar jumps hard, making a startled noise and turning wide eyes in his direction. There are dark circles hanging beneath them, about as heavy as the moon hangs in the sky, but Grian hadn’t really expected anything else. They all look like this, now. As if any of them actually think it will help.

“Grian!” Scar’s voice is thin and frazzled, and he has a hand clutching his chest as he tries to breathe evenly again after the scare. “You’re here!”

“I’m always here at night,” Grian says tiredly, and he tilts his head a little. He’s having trouble really processing whatever is currently happening. “What are you doing here?”

Scar blinks, eyes darting around until they land on his own hands, clutching loose red fabric in white-knuckled hands. Grian steps a little closer, and worries.

“I’m— Um, sewing?” Scar holds up the fabric bundle, and it unravels into something beginning to resemble a tiny coat. “Making a jacket for Jellie. Like mine.”

It’s absolutely adorable, of course, but— Well.

“In my observatory?” Grian asks, even though what he’s really asking is why. Why is he here, and not anywhere else?

Scar seems to pick up on what he’s really saying, and he slumps, tiny coat falling back into his lap. His hair sticks up in odd places, and Grian feels the strangest urge to smooth it down.

“Had a close call with some phantoms,” Scar says, glancing up through the ceiling. And then he laughs a little, some sad sort of humor twisting his mouth upwards. “And I didn’t want to go home.”

They’re going to talk about it, Grian realizes, and while he might’ve once felt dread, now he only feels relief. Even if above it all, he’s just tired.

Grian sits down across from Scar, and lets his wings hang relaxed against his back. The moon will still be there when they’re done. Unfortunately.

“You didn’t want to go home,” Grian repeats, eyes locked on Scar’s. “Why?”

Scar swallows, gaze flickering away for a moment, hands fidgeting in his lap. “I’ve been sleeping,” he says, which is such an abrupt change of topic that Grian actually doesn’t comprehend it at first.

“…Okay,” Grian says slowly, confused. “You don’t— I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t… look too good.”

Scar actually giggles, the mad man.

“It’s the stress!” Scar says brightly, but less sun-bright and more lamp-bright. Fake. “And I didn’t say I slept well.”

“You have phantoms,” Grian says, weakly.

Scar shrugs. “I guess my sleeping isn’t good enough for them, the rascals. They still show up.”

“Scar,” Grian says, and makes sure the other is looking at him before he continues. “Are you okay?”

“The world is ending,” says Scar, with a sad little quirk of his lips.

Grian’s breath hitches. “You don’t know that.”

“We all know that.”

The sky outside the observatory window is bright white and grey. They can’t see the stars anymore. Haven’t been able to for a while. It feels fortuitous, now, that he built his own night sky. There are stars in a place where he doesn’t have to see the moon. But they aren’t real.

“We’re going to world-hop when we can’t stay anymore,” Grian says. “Xisuma’s already looking.”

“I know.” Scar knocks the back of his head gently against the wall behind him. “I just…” he trails off, lips pressed together.

Grian reaches out and touches his hand, lightly. Scar laces their fingers together, and the world shakes but they are steady.

“You just what?” Grian asks softly.

“I’m not ready,” Scar says, voice cracking and blinking back tears. “I just— I wasn’t done. I didn’t get to— I wanted to do more. I wanted—“

Scar breaks off into shaky breaths, and Grian can’t speak past the knot in his throat. Instead, he uses the hand he’s holding to pull him into a hug, letting Scar hunch over to hide his face in his shoulder. From the way his back is moving, Grian can tell he’s crying, even if he can’t hear it. Grian squeezes him tighter and closes his eyes. Scar’s trembling hands twist into the back of his sweater.

“It’s stupid,” Scar says a while later, laughing wetly into his shoulder. “We’re not— We’re not going to die. I can make stuff in the next place, but I just— It’s just—“

“It’s not stupid,” Grian says firmly, and pushes Scar back just far enough to look him sternly in the eyes. “It’s not.”

“I’m sorry,” Scar says, and wipes at his face, laughing a little again. It’s a very sad sound. “I didn’t come here to cry all over you.”

“It’s fine,” Grian says, and gives in to the urge to smooth Scar’s hair a bit. “It helps, I think. I kind of cried on you, too.” He pulls Scar’s hands away from his eyes. “And you’re allowed to be upset, you know.”

Scar blinks at him and then lets out a shaky sigh, shoulders dropping from their tense position. Grian relaxes in turn.

“Okay,” Scar says softly. “Okay.”

“You’ve done amazing things here,” Grian continues. “And you’ll do amazing things wherever we end up next.”

“Okay,” Scar repeats, and he leans his head against Grian’s shoulder again, just breathing.

They stay that way for long enough that they fall asleep, with Grian’s wings unfolding to keep them warm.

[muwitch]

If you're taking directions on the ask, I'd love to hear 1 and 8 :)

I AM, fjoiefj thank you for asking!🫶

How does your character figure out their class/subclass? Is it different from how they were before losing their memories?

Technically as in what they are, classes remain the same as pre-tadpole. She could’ve respec’d, if she was leaning more towards wizardry/scholarly magic in general, but Gale did kinda subconsciously discourage her from that. Otherwise most of the classes feel kind of specific and require training or strong belief in a patron god if we try to look at it realistically and we ain’t got time for that. Plus there’s a certain appeal I feel in kicking back to old habits.

As for how she figures, I’d say it’s on the go. First as a sorcerer right at the nautiloid, magic still comes naturally to her. In a state of extreme distraught and weaponless, it’s the first tether (pun intended) to whatever past she might have. Commanding spells does feel like something she inherently knows and it’s like helping Teth concentrate in a way her scrambled egg brain feels more whole. 

She’s certain she’s a sorc even after surviving the crash despite the obvious clues pointing to something else. It takes her a bit of time to figure out her bodily behaviour and as Teth remains quite pragmatic and uses reflection as a coping mechanism, she then understands there’s a reason for how she moves, how easily physical becomes instead of being smart and keeping distance, how familiar and soothing a dagger is in her hand instead of a staff. It corresponds with the urges, with innate knowledge how to skirmish a body as well as nurture arcane. And whatever she was before, it hits home. The encounter with Quil is the cherry on top.

Are there any points in the game that you see as branching points for your dark urge? For example, are they torn between goblins/tieflings? Or are they clearly on one path or another?

Teth is…I would not say she’s torn. To a degree up until Ketheric she’s just rolling. She’s not exactly a heroic figure and probably never will be: her actions are the result of a certain pragma that Teth uses to weigh up her immediate decisions, as there’s nothing from the past (aka behavioural experience) to back it up.

[As an example: she discovers the Grove first, it’s not without its quirks, but it’s sort of a temporary shelter. They are “siding” because at that moment the party needs a healer. So it points to Halsin, they go to retrieve him amongst other things. Teth contemplates betraying the Grove alright since there’s this lead to Moonrise, but Minthara just blows it up. So they stick to carnage Teth very much appreciates and it just happens to align with the “good” guys.]

However if I was to choose branching points… It would actually be Isobel’s murder or lack thereof.

For Teth it is sort of a point of suspension of disbelief or not. If act 1 was more or less getting into urges for the lack of control, act 2 feels more measured. She finally has threads to the past and is on her hunt for them. There’s more control on her side and Teth generally just wants answers. Which she doesn’t get and Sceleritas is misinforming and going all “tehee, despicable master, just roll with it” without anything to back up any statements. It pisses her off far and beyond, but it also gives her a choice. As always: to follow blindly and on instinct or to fuck and find out.

So Teth deliberately goes “I forgor" in her visit to Last Light, but when Sceleritas appears again to remind her what needs to be done, I guess that moment is sort of turning point. And if she did actually kill Isobel (and everyone inside but not like she did particularly care for anyone except maybe Dammon bc of his usefulness for Karlach and bit of tiefling kids), it would throttle her back onto her old path immediately. It would make Ketheric’s death so much more enjoyable for her, it’d lead her right back in her father’s embrace like she never ever left and she wouldn’t even truly know what set it off.

[also whenever to team up with Gortash of course, but it is already lengthy.]

[amchara]

Herondales Don't Fail Ch. 5 - Downworlder Dish

Ao3 / 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5

Kit Herondale, Ty Blackthorn (Kit/Ty), original characters

Wordcount: 5,600 words

Rating: Mature (most of this story features canon-typical violence and sexual content but might occasionally go a bit past it, so... M just to cover all bases)

Summary: It’s been almost five years since an epic line-up of Shadowhunter heroes and their allies closed all the portals to Hell. Now, demons are scarce and the Nephilim are searching for their purpose in this new world. Centurion Ty Blackthorn has been sent to London to investigate a potential new threat, while Kit Herondale has taken up a post helping to rebuild the London Enclave.

Kit was happy to accept the London Institute’s invitation to assist in the rebuilding of the city’s Enclave. But he didn’t count on being blindsided into joining the competition to become its next head - or being hated by most of its inhabitants who assume he’s only there because of his name.

--

Kit bit his nail as he set down the final piece of delicate paper. It was the following day after his and Noura’s eventful patrol and he was finally getting a chance to read the documents Jacob had given him. Which were providing at least some context to Maryam’s accusations. 

Several of them were just copies of invoices - in a spiky scrawl he recognised as Evelyn’s - and attached receipts, as paid ‘tithes’ to the Institute. Receipts for large amounts of gold, jewels and precious artifacts; recompense from Faerie for the damage done during the Dark War. Dated from mid-2007 onwards.

An unwilling ‘tithe’ but not an unknown one - even as a young teen at the L.A. Shadow Market, Kit had heard about the huge costs demanded by the Shadowhunters during the five year Cold Peace. 

Was Maryam referring only to that time period? Surely the tithe must have been stopped in 2012, when Alec had been made Consul? But then… why had Jacob said the documentation was less than he expected? And the text message… sender still unknown and Noura’s uneasiness around Roger. The lack of response from London’s Downworld, when he attempted to reach out. There had to be more to this… right? Or was he looking for connections in places where none existed. 

He ran his hands through his hair in frustration, as the questions swirled around in his head. His gut instinct knew they were connected but he needed to talk to others outside the Institute. Yet he had been running into dead ends, from missing Maryam’s night shifts at the hospital, according to Ade and his frustrating ongoing attempts to meet with London’s Downworld leaders. 

 Across the table, Ellie looked up from behind her own stack of thick psychology books. They had taken advantage of the laxer routine while Evelyn and Roger were out, to meet up at a nearby coffee shop close to Charing Cross for a studying slash research session. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, pushing back strands of mauve hair, her natural dark colour peeking through on her undercut. “You have that look like the fate of the world rests on your shoulders. Which… it doesn’t anymore, remember?” There was a hint of sympathy in her voice.  

Kit hesitated. 

“You don’t have to share if it’s top-secret Shadowhunter shit.” She grabbed her coffee cup and took a sip, unconcerned. “But also.” Her gaze dropped to the papers he had sprawled around. “You’re also really bad at keeping it secret,” she said dryly. “You’ve spread them all over the table and I can read upside down- you’re looking at Faerie visits to the Institute.”   

He resisted the urge to hide his papers. “Maybe.” 

“Kit,” Ellie’s voice was loud, even above the ambient music in the coffee shop. She noticed as well and pitched her next sentence lower.  “You have got to stop walking on eggshells around me and Shadow World stuff. I’m not training for Ascension anymore- but I still have the Sight.”

He had thought about asking her but from previous comments - “Yeah well- you seem like you’ve moved past caring about the Shadow World,” Kit pointed out. “Which is great, you shouldn’t have to be involved in it unless you want to. That’s why I’m being cagey, okay?” 

She picked up a pencil, suddenly very avidly back into her own psychology assignment. “Doesn’t mean I don’t care about the wellbeing of my friends,” she said, mumbling. “Are they bullying you, over at the Institute, about your Fae background?” she asked suddenly, looking back up.

“What? No- if anything they’ve laid out the red carpet,” Kit said. “I mean- there’s more of a deal being made about the Herondale name than the faerie heritage.” 

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Ah yes- sorry, I’ve been out of the Nephilim loop, I forget I’m in the presence of Shadowhunter royalty,” she teased, but under the table, there was a gentle nudge of her foot against his. “So many people wanted me to introduce them to you when I first arrived at the Academy and found out I knew you,” she said, grinning. 

“Though that stopped when the Clave issued the warrant with you an enemy numero uno-” she paused when she saw Kit’s expression. “Anyway, I don’t mean to bring up ancient history. Sometimes I still wonder why you went back into it. After everything.” She lay her hands on her chin, giving him a frank look. 

“The devil you know?” Kit said, trying to inject a light tone into his voice. “And there’s Ty, of course. And Jem and Tessa and Mina, and Jace and you know- my skillset of con-artistry, warrior training and now useless faerie magic isn’t exactly going to be top for job recruiters.”

Ellie smirked. “I don’t know…”

Kit pulled together his papers. “I can’t tell you specifics,” he said, changing the topic. “But there’s something off about the relationship between Shadowhunters and Downworlders in London. So that’s what I’m looking into.” He resisted asking her about the tithe, trying to respect her wishes to stay out of Downworld politics. 

Ellie nodded instantly. “That doesn’t surprise me,” she said. “As I said- I try to avoid it but you can sometimes feel the tension,” she said.  “Have you gone to the Shadow Market yet? Wouldn’t that give you a good barometer of how things are?” 

“Tonight,” he said. “If they allow me in.” 

There was a quick flash of sadness across her face but then Ellie smiled brightly. “Have fun,” she said. She looked down at her phone. “Oh, need to head to class.” She quickly tidied away her things and blew him a kiss as she left. “Don’t forget- we need to schedule that dinner! Despite Ollie’s and Ty’s busy schedules.”

He waved at her and then looked at his own phone to check the time. He contemplated going back to the Institute, maybe he could check the tunnels once again. The quick sweep of them earlier with Noura had revealed dusty footprints, bare reinforced walls (apparently the tunnels also doubled as bomb shelters during the second world war) and stack upon stack of additional seraph blades, sabres, arrows and the usual other weapons. Nothing suspicious at first glance but maybe he could check with one of Ty’s Sensors. Although that didn’t sound immediately appealing, plus he’d run the risk of getting caught up in Noura’s lab work. 

In the light of day, Noura hadn’t been forthcoming about her other feelings about Roger, instead telling Kit she needed to run more timed experiments on the portal door before shooing him up the stairs. 

And Ty was holed up in a Centurion meeting, followed by a patrol with Anush. Kit wistfully remembered his expectations that he’d see Ty more now that they lived together… 

With a strong itch of restlessness underneath his skin, Kit delved back into his research to prepare for his visit to the Market. He’d asked Sabina and others he found wandering the Institute’s halls about visiting the Shadow Market, but hadn’t found out much, other than it wasn’t done very often. It wasn’t Shadowhunter territory but mainly for the Downworld and that was respected by all parties. Which, Kit could respect but also- he needed to visit it.  

--

As he lightly ran down the stairs at the far end of London Bridge, a wave of uneasy nostalgia hit Kit, as he remembered his first time visiting the London Shadow Market. He had been with Ty and Livvy - where they had learned about Annabel Blackthorn’s fate and he had come up close and personal with his own ancestor’s cruelty. A visit where Livvy had been hurt, Magnus had rescued them, and in the aftermath, his first time holding Ty, comforting him. 

He shoved his hands into his denim jacket pockets as he approached London's Shadow Market but just as he had once told Julian… somehow, they always knew. 

“No Nephilim without invitation or assigned Downworlder.” The nixie looked bored and was playing some type of candy crush-type game on her phone, her hair a deep forest green with hints of azure. Beyond her, Kit could see the brightly coloured Market stalls, a steady hum of voices and intriguing food smells just beyond. His blood was singing with eagerness to enter. 

Kit gave her his friendliest smile and tried his best to gain entry. 

Half an hour later, he stalked away from the entrance, feeling oddly humiliated. The nixie had been polite but firm in her refusals. He had texted a couple contacts at the New York Shadow Market to vouch for him… but that got him nowhere. He had phoned Mark to see if he could get the Downworld-Shadowhunter Alliance to act in his favour, but even Mark had run into a wall with it. 

At the end, he resorted desperately to using his name, wondering if would open the figurative door. “My name’s Kit Herondale… as in the former First Heir. Maybe… you’ve heard of me?” he asked, feeling his cheeks flush as he heard himself. He was just glad that no one else was there to hear him make a fool of himself. The nixie looked at him closer, her hair lightening to a seafoam green. “Oh yeah- thought you looked familiar but then I thought no, can’t be. Also I thought you were dead,” she said, curiosity spiking in her voice. 

“Rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated,” Kit told her. He gestured. “So can I go in?”

“What? Oh still no,” the nixie said. “You’re Nephilim so I can’t let you in. Boss’s orders.” She looked him up and down. “Also, given you were responsible for helping almost destroy my homeland… that’s a double no. Er… my liege?” she said, bobbing nervously in the attempt of a bow, clearly trying to cover all her bases. 

He sighed; he had an early morning meeting with her boss who could definitely pull the strings he needed, so he gave it up as a bad job. 

As he left the gloomy railway vaults, impulsively, he turned his palm upwards and concentrated, as he had that night with Ash in Blackthorn Hall. 

Nothing happened, no spark, no hint of magic present. 

He turned his hand over, looking down at his Voyance tattoo and for the first time in a while, Kit wished he could scrub it from his skin.  

He re-entered the mundane area, the crowd immediately pressing up against him. Kit briefly considered stopping to get a drink, or at least texting Ellie or Ade to see if they were interested in meeting up. Then a drunk man stumbled into him, patting his cheek with an alcoholic apology as he moved away and in his other ear, he was nearly deafened by the screeches of a hen party moving five abreast in front of him, wobbling on their high heels. He dismissed the idea as he slipped through the raucous well-lit bar area, deciding he wanted to be alone with this odd mood.

As he left the loud nightlife crowd behind, Kit felt the prickling sensation of being watched. He spun around several times, aware of how it looked to anyone watching him. Each time, there was no indication he was being followed. But he kept a close hand on his silver Herondale knife all the way home, just in case. 

A couple hours later he received a text: heard about your jaunt to the market this evening. tsk, such impatience! fyi need to move our meeting to later this week - HV and he nearly threw his phone against the wall in frustration. 

--

Several days later

Kit gave her credit. The well-practiced customer service smile only faltered slightly as she turned and realised who was next in the pharmacy line. 

He tried to give his best ‘harmless Shadowhunter’ smile. Even as her friendly smile remained, the look in her eyes grew colder. 

“Adnan? Is the consultation room free?” Maryam called, not taking her gaze off of him. “I have a customer who needs to talk about a headache.”

She led him to a small, windowless room, cramped with a plastic chair and an old computer whose screen blinked on and off in a bright blue NHS screensaver. Maryam gestured him inside first and then pulled the door closed, standing in front of it.

“A headache I’m sure I’m giving you,” Kit began. He was dressed again in his regular clothes, most of his runes covered. He took a seat, ensuring his hands were out of his pockets and in sight.   

“Not the first one I’ve had to deal with tonight,” she said brusquely, crossing her arms. “Where’s the other one?” she asked.  

“Ty? He’s not here - we thought it might be less intimidating if it was just me this time.”

She shook her head. “Let’s get one thing straight,” she said evenly, giving him a flat stare. “I am not intimidated. I just don’t like you.” 

Kit wanted to protest that she didn’t even know him. But he knew that wouldn’t be the right approach. 

“Yep and in your position, I’d feel the same,” he said, trying to project sincerity. He leaned forward. “I came in, worried about my friend getting trapped in the Shadow World… but while rushing to help, ticked every Shadowhunter stereotype that I hate. So I wanted to come here and apologise to you.”  

“Hmm,” she said, shooting him an uncertain look with her heavily kohled-eyes. She was extremely pretty, Kit thought, her black hair pulled up into a half ponytail and her dark skin flawless with the sheen of undead beauty. Unlike most New York vampires, she wasn’t stick and bones, her body filling out an otherwise unremarkable standard pharmacist uniform. With Ty and Divya’s tweaked rune applied on him, Kit could see her vampire glamour hanging heavily over, in a strange grey-tinted aura. She wasn’t trying to encanto him though, just holding it as if as a protective cloak. 

“He put you up to this? Ade?” 

Kit let a rueful smile shine through. “He did- and gave me hell for it. But if I’m honest, even before that our meeting wasn’t sitting well with me,” he said. “I am sorry. According to my contacts at Hotel DuMort, I’m usually one of the better behaved Nephilim.”   

A flash of amusement crossed her face. “Did you really just pull the ‘some of my friends are vampires’?”

Kit thought back to the whatsapp chat he was in with Lily and her sarcastic but useful advice she had given him about dealing with vampires in London. He pulled a face. “Maybe? Does it help?” 

“Well- I’ve never had a Shadowhunter apologise to me before,” Maryam answered with a hint of incredulity. “So I guess you have that in your favour.” 

He cleared his throat as the silence stretched out. “Anyway…” he said awkwardly. “That’s the main reason I came to see you.” 

“Okay,” Maryam went to open the door. 

“But I did have one other question…”

She gave him an unimpressed look. “Nephilim always do.”

“Last time we spoke, you mentioned a tithe,” Kit said quickly. “Is that still a thing that happens today for Faeries in London? Even after the end of the Cold Peace?”

“Your accent and reference to Hotel DuMort indicates you’ve not been in London long?” There was a slight raise of eyebrow at the question.

“That’s right,” he answered. “I’m originally from Los Angeles and have spent time in New York.” And Faerie, and Devon and a number of other places. 

A dissatisfied look crossed her face. “Right,” she said shortly. “Then you should take a bit longer to figure out how things actually work in this city.” 

“Okay but-”

She held up a hand. “Let’s get one thing straight. We might share a friend but we are not friends. And I have to get back to my actual job.” She pushed the door open. 

“Sure, that’s fine,” Kit stood, trying to keep the frustration from his voice. He knew when he was pushing his luck.

As he exited, he looked back at her. Short in stature, she held herself back carefully, almost if she were frightened of touching him. He wondered about her previous interactions with Shadowhunters. Kit tried to take her measure and realised he still had an instinct he could trust her. “Look out for him, if you can-” he said. “Ade. He’s smart and I think he’ll be okay but it doesn’t hurt to have someone in your corner…” he let his voice trail off. He handed her a small slip of paper, where he had written his phone number. “If you need to get a hold of me.”  

She took it reluctantly but gave him a small nod. “On that, we agree- I’ll look out for him,” she said. 

-- 

There were dark shadows under Ty’s eyes as he emerged from the bus stop where he was waiting for Kit. As they walked away from the hospital, heading towards the Limehouse Basin, Kit could see him trying to hold in a yawn. 

“I can handle the Hypatia interview myself, if you want to head home,” he said. “I’ll fill you in on everything I learn.”

Ty looked over at him, a confused tilt to his head. “Why shouldn’t I come with you? I’m already here, post-patrol.” 

“Because you’re coming off three nights in a row?” Kit pointed out. “And I know you’re working on a deficit. I saw you in the study yesterday afternoon, when you were supposed to be sleeping.” 

There was a small frown on Ty’s face before he replied, a slight shake of the head. “It’s important we dedicate all waking hours to this case- these creatures aren’t like anything we’ve seen before. The wraiths seem to melt away anytime we get close. Like you saw in your patrol. Or-” and Ty’s grey eyes closed briefly. “I thought they did. But in the last couple of times, I’ve seen them regroup- and it seems as if they’re watching us. Waiting for something.” 

Kit felt goosebumps rise on his skin, despite the bright early morning daylight and busy East London streets they were striding down. “Waiting to harm you?” 

“The rest of the office seems to think they are but… it’s hard to ascribe malevolence when they haven’t done much.” Ty simply looked weary. 

“Right,” Kit answered. He reached over to sympathetically tug on the sleeve of Ty’s oversized hoodie, which he had thrown overtop of his gear. He caught Ty’s hand for a moment. “But also, I need you to sleep so I don’t worry about you on patrol, okay?” 

Ty turned to him and smiled. “You don’t have to worry about me,” he said, with his characteristic understated confidence. Then he scrunched his eyes up, in remembrance. “Also, I need to come because the last time we spoke to Hypatia in-person, she tried to kill you,” Ty reminded him. “You need back up until we determine she’s not going to do that again.” 

Kit had considered that fact but… all the other Downworld contacts he had been given had rebuffed his meeting requests or had given him dates far in the future... “At this point, I think it’s harder to find a warlock who hasn’t tried to kill me at some point, given the whole First Heir thing. Plus, she saved Tessa’s life with her magic-sharing at that last battle, so I’m willing to risk it.” 

Ty looked like he wanted to start naming more friendly warlocks but he made a small noise and shook his head. They continued walking. “How did your chat with Maryam go?” Ty asked, a few minutes later, as they neared the turn off to Gill Street and Hypatia Vex’s magic shop.

Kit shrugged. “Apology accepted- I think. But she wasn’t keen to chat further about the tithe or anything else. She’s very wary of Shadowhunters. Even more than typical, which- might be a pattern in London?” 

Ty nodded. “I went back through the Centurion meeting notes records. Less than half the Downworlders invited showed up for that meeting at the Institute’s sanctuary.” 

“Yeah, have my work cut out for me,” Kit said, sighing. “Need to get them talking to me like- yesterday.”

Ty gave him a quick flash-in-a-pan smile, just before they pushed open the door of the dingy shop. “You’re persuasive,” he said simply. “You’ll get them on board.” 

--

“Ah, the First Heir, the doom of faerie, ender of worlds, and his necromancer boyfriend. You return to my humble shop,” Hypatia Vex’s starry eyes were shining despite the dim light of the shop. She leaned back against the high, mahogany shelves, which so closely matched her hair tone that Kit thought for a minute she was rocking the bald look. Which she could pull off, he thought. 

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Ty go dead still, his face shuttering down at her greeting. “Hypatia,” Kit said, smiling with his teeth. Okay, maybe he still held a bit of a grudge. “It’s been a while,” he said. “But I’m not the First Heir anymore, you’re no longer trying to save your sister’s descendants from Sammael’s wrath so… can we call it bygones?”

“I accepted your meeting invite, did I not?” Hypatia waved a hand lazily, and with a small flash of amber light, a takeaway cup appeared in her hand, and then with another small poof of smoke, two further branded coffee cups emerged on the counter in front of them. “It’s early, let’s chat in my client room,” she said, gesturing towards the back.  

Kit looked at the coffee in disbelief. “You’ve got to be joking,” he said. “After last time?”

“I’ll take it,” Ty said, pushing forward. He grabbed the coffee cups, and defiantly took a drink, looking straight at Hypatia. Her amused look held as she led them through a hidden door in one of her cupboards. They emerged into a well-lit, white-washed room, which had the look of a high end minimalist hotel, all brass coverings and exposed lights, a stark comparison to the Edwardian fustiness of the main shop floor.

“I don’t suppose you’ll accept a drink from my hand again but… our other dealings had been fruitful in the past, and you’ve not annoyed me to all end, unlike most Nephilim. So tell me, what brings you here?” Hypatia asked. She watched him carefully, leaning back in a white leather chair, her long legs clad in a tight black denim and purple three inch heels on her feet. 

“To London specifically. Last I had heard, the former First Heir was based in New York. Or L.A. The rumours were not specific but you’ve been seen at both Shadow Markets. And now apparently returning to your Nephilim roots. A mistake, if you ask me.” 

“After not bringing about the end of the world, I’ve had to consider new career opportunities,” Kit said, a touch sharply. Then he took a deep breath. He had seen Hypatia at the Sanctuary meeting, and also previously from a distance at the L.A. Shadow Market - as the co-owner she was there infrequently - but she hadn’t made overtures and he had been wary about interactions. But she apparently gate-kept the London Shadow Market more closely. 

He suddenly remembered a snippet of a conversation he had overheard from Magnus to Tessa about a mutual acquaintance. If you wait to be forgiven as an immortal, you’ll die waiting, Magnus had counselled. Better to keep tally and be on guard but not close off the opportunity . 

This was a test, he suspected. He opened his mouth- 

“We’re both based here for the next while,” Ty cut in, his voice frosty. “There are several matters that require our attention in London.” 

She turned to him. “Yes, I had heard. Centurion Blackthorn,” she said, inclining her head. “And a Herondale in the running to be the next Head of Institute. I must admit, for a moment I forgot what century I was in.” 

She took a sip of her coffee, and then set it down. Snapping her fingers, a ledger book and gold-tipped pen appeared in hand; she focused on Ty in a business-like fashion. “I assume you’re here about the wraith update? Tell Marcus he can bill it to my usual account.”  

Ty watched her for a moment through slightly narrowed eyes, then he nodded and produced his own notebook. They spoke for several minutes about Hypatia’s contacts’ news and ears on the ground about wraith sightings. 

Kit tried to listen but his own late nights and early mornings caught up with him, and he found himself drifting in and out as they spoke. Noticing himself doing it, he zoned back in. 

“I’ll come up with a proposal for a capture-trial,” Ty said. His hands were moving along his gear trousers in a subtle stim and his face was alight in a keen interest, despite his drawn, tired features. 

“Call me when you do,” Hypatia told him. “I have some ideas about elucidation spells that should give further indications about their origin.”

“You haven’t tried those already?” Kit asked. “Or,” he noticed Hypatia’s tight smile. “Would you tell us if you had?”

“That sounds like the start of the conversation you and I need to have,” she said, switching her attention to him. “I assume you’re here to talk about Downworld-Shadowhunter relations.”

“You’re right - I’ve been asked to be the Institute’s Downworld liaison,” Kit said. “I’ve only just started but in the couple of weeks we’ve been here, the vibes I’ve been getting are drastically different than I’ve seen in other cities between Downworlders and Shadowhunters.” He looked directly into Hypatia’s celestial eyes. “What’s going on?”

Hypatia settled back into her leather chair. “Not quite the right question…” she said, but looking at Kit’s frustrated expression, she amended it. 

“London’s Downworld and London’s Nephilim have been in a fine balance for centuries; there have been times of great collaboration and times when it’s not been far off open bloodshed.” Hypatia mused, her eyes dark with some kind of memory. 

She cleared her throat. “But the current issue has ties to events within your lifetime. After Sebastian Morgenstern’s defeat, Shadowhunters darkened the doors of any fae they could find… something about how they had to pay for the Seelie Queen’s sins - and they taxed heavily. And weren’t particularly discerning about who they caught up in their net while forcing them to pay the blood price they thought they were owed. If you had conducted business with Faerie, you were enemy by proxy, also due to pay.” 

“A tithe,” Ty said, in a quiet voice. He had also read Jacob’s papers that Kit had shared with him. 

Kit winced; now he understood Maryam’s protests. “Yeah, not going to try to justify it,” he said. “The Cold Peace was horrendous and led to worse outcomes for the whole Downworld.”

“But surely- none of that was legally enforceable,” Ty said carefully, his face a study as he took in Hypatia’s words. “Making other Downworlders pay the same restitutions as Faerie. And the Cold Peace ended almost seven years ago. Are you telling us Downworlders are still paying this… tax, to the London Institute?” 

Hypatia surveyed them.  

“I suspect we’re about to get ‘oh you sweet summer child’,” he said, unsure if Hypatia would catch it but knowing Ty would understand the reference, given their recent Game of Thrones binge. 

“It officially ended then, yes- but it still exists in some form. Over the years, it has become the modus operandi for the Institute,” she said. Her tone was gentle but the look in her eyes was mocking. 

“And in some ways, it’s not an unfamiliar position for us Downworlders to find ourselves in. Centuries ago- you paid off the Nephilim, they tended to not bother you. Or if you had need of a Shadowhunter for dirty work, paying the tithe ensured you got priority access. It means the Institute’s coffers have been refilled and as a beneficiary to their largesse whenever they need a warlock, I have no complaints.” 

“Or I should say, had no complaints. But it no longer makes business sense, dividing us all while facing a common threat,” Hypatia said, nodding at Ty’s wraith notebook. “And with a potential Head of Institute regime change coming up…” She switched her gaze back to Kit, a challenging smile on her face.     

“So… Kit Herondale, no longer First Heir and currently play-acting as Nephilim- what will you do to fix this situation?”

Kit felt something in his stomach twist. Another test indeed, he thought grimly.

-- 

Ty was silent as they left Hypatia’s shop but Kit could see him worrying his lip, his eyebrows drawn. “It’s against the rules. It’s against the laws and it’s against what we should be doing as Shadowhunters,” Ty said, in a low voice. He looked over at Kit. “And it’s not your place to fix it,” he said stubbornly. 

Kit felt lost but then Ty clarified. “We’re going to fix it together,” he said. “I know Hypatia said the Centurion office is separate but I’ll still check to make sure they’re also not benefiting from it,” he said, his hands starting to flutter by his side, as they normally did when he got upset. 

Kit drew close to Ty, ready in case of comfort but was mildly surprised when Ty grabbed his hands, and pulled them around him, settling them against the small of his back. And then Kit realised, as he leaned into the embrace, that actually yeah- this was what he needed. 

“I just-” Kit blew out a big sigh, as he leaned into Ty’s shoulder. “I thought most of this was shut down, when the Cohort was defeated.” 

He drew back, briefly catching the sorrowful look in Ty’s eyes, the same colour as the storm clouds gathering ahead. 

They resumed their walk down the small winding road towards the river, low-rise estates around them and the yells of small children playing in a nearby playground. They both were quiet, alone with their thoughts.

Ty was walking with his head up, gaze up towards the sky. “Last time we walked this road, Livvy was with us,” he mentioned, almost off-handedly. “We visited Hypatia’s shop and then the Riders intercepted us, as we walked back to the Institute.” 

Kit almost stumbled in surprise. It had been something in the back of his mind - tracing some of their first adventures but he hadn’t wanted to mention it out loud, in case it was upsetting. “I remember,” he said. “Pretty sure Livvy gave me the shovel talk during that walk, before I knew that’s what it was,” he said and a small smile blossomed on Ty’s face. 

Kit hesitated, then asked: “Is it hard, being back here - with the memories?”

“Sometimes. But mostly it’s fine,” Ty said. The look on his face was hard to read but Kit knew from experience that he had to take Ty at his word, when it came to his grief for his twin.

“I miss her too,” Kit said simply, and Ty nodded in acknowledgement as they reached the river’s edge.  

“History doesn’t repeat but it does have patterns,” Ty said thoughtfully, a few minutes later, as they waited in line for the ferry back into Central London. “Julian’s office is still working to extract Cohort ideology out of other Institutes. And if there’s one thing I learned about Shadowhunter history at the Scholomance is we tend to have to go through the same issues a lot before we learn.”

“You know, you could always just open a mundane textbook,” Kit complained. But the further away he was getting from Hypatia’s shop, the more he could feel sparks of determination and anger starting to flow through him. After all, they had dealt with the potential end of the world- what was one more task of dragging an Institute into the 21st century? And he could prove Hypatia and Maryam and others wrong about Shadowhunters. 

“Right- well, regardless if Shadowhunters are slow learners here, we’ll have to probably find proof to bring to Julian’s office,” he said. “Hypatia seemed to think it’s been kept low-key, and I agree- I’m not sure how many of the others know at the Institute.” He and Ty looked at each other. “Files- they’re probably locked in Evelyn or Roger’s office,” Kit said. “I’ll take a look there- though I’ll have to hurry, as they’re returning today. And maybe check those tunnels Noura mentioned again, see if there’s any evidence related to the tithe is being kept there.” 

Ty nodded. “You can borrow one of my Sensors,” he said. 

“Already there, Holmes,” Kit said, a fizz of excitement starting to course through him. Finally they were getting somewhere in the case. 

-- 

But when Kit returned to the Institute, he found it in war mode. 

On the steps outside there were several dark red splashes smeared as if someone had been dragged in injured. He quickened his pace - it wasn’t unusual for there to be casualties after patrols but this looked like a serious one. 

He hurried up the steps alone - Ty having already headed back to the townhouse to get much needed rest. 

Several grim-faced Centurions standing in the entranceway, talking with Sabina. Beyond the foyer, he could see members of the Enclave gathering together in clumps. “What happened?” he asked the nearest one. 

Michael Greentree, on his travel year from Auckland, answered. “It’s the wraiths,” he said. “They’ve killed two Shadowhunters.” 

--

Taglist: @dontmindmyshadowhunting @sandersgrey @of-same-steel-and-temper @thomastaircompassrose @thechangeling @mferraz @kestrafagnor @gabtapia @alldagayships @blindbandit1515 @silvermagnolias @chaotic-halfblood-kit @fighting-god-69 @lifeofbrybooks @all-this-panic-still-no-disco @heloisacosta23 @kitheronthorn @idk-i-just-really-like-tsc @t0wergirl @immortal-enemies @ahumanbeingtryingherbest @chewriting @bookishjules

[mystverse]

EVERYDAY DRABBLES - HEAT AND RUT

WARNINGS : MDNI, Almost smut, too much sexual tension, impure thoughts, thigh riding towards the end [not really explicit], etc.

You did not expect your heat to coincide with Hyuck's rut. You really didn't. If you had known that your pheromones might trigger his rut, you wouldn't have fought with him. Hell, you wouldn't have even let him come into your apartment. Unlike you, Hyuck had great self-control, even in his rut. He manages it pretty well, but this time, he lost it. With your honey scent engulfing the whole living room, expecting him to stay sane is ridiculous, even to you.

He slams the door shut behind, and you start backing away from him. His eyes are fiery red, and his lips curl into a smirk once he inhaled the cloying scent of yours. Your outfit didn't even help a little. You internally curse yourself for opting to wear it. His tongue swipes across his bottom lip as he takes in your appearance. Flushed cheeks. Blown out eyes. Sweet scent of your slick.

You really thought he's gonna devour you right then and there. But God! Had he had other plans to execute; to ruin you whole. He smiles so sweetly, as if you both hadn't been yelling at each other through phones.

"Hey, sweetness." his voice itself gives you chills. The way it deepens when he calls you makes you shiver even more. Your words come out as whispers as you lean against the sofa, nails digging into the velvet, "Ye-ah." You stutter, as more slick soaks through your lace panties. You're burning up. The urge to beg of him to ruin you is too much.

"Shall we watch a movie?" he plops down on the couch, legs spread and inviting. You stand rooted in your position, biting your lips as the flush sneaks upto to your cheeks even more, "Thought you were gonna fuck me?" you try, he might get the hint but he just laughs.

"Maybe later," Oh. Your disappointment must have been very clear in your face because he has his arrogant smirk on his lips, and his tongue wets the lower once again, "Any problem?" his voice is breathy and torturously seductive, but you shake your head as the movie starts.

He pulls you to his lap, making you straddle his thigh. You gasp when your wet core brushes the rough fabric of his jeans, and he is hard. You unconsciously roll your hips, trying to get some friction.

"Stop squirming." He mutters against the back of your neck. You quietly gasp as his fingers tap the sweaty skin of your thigh. You shift insignificantly, very minimal. He wouldn't even notice it, you think.

"Be good and sit still, sweetness." he whispers, his fingers gliding a little up and under the soft fabric of your (his) shirt and kissing the back of your neck. Open mouth kisses are littered all over the bare skin of your back as the shirt slips down without any resistance.

Your breathing is hot and heavy as another wave washes down your body. The shirt is almost transparent with your sweat and skin, hot and burning. Your scent is in the air, alarmingly sweet and intoxicating. The slick stains his jeans, and you squirm, "Hyuck, pleaseㅡ"

Your plead is cut off in the middle, when his fingers tug down the lace off your waist, eyes fixed on you, watching your face contort into expression of embarrassment, "Aww. You're so wet, sweetness, leaking already," the lace lands somewhere in the room, and you couldn't care less about it. The damp shirt joins next, you whine out of diffidence, instinctively covering yourself with your arms going around your torso and red staining your neck till the tip of your ears.

He laughs, the dark pools of his eyes thirstily gawking at you. He pins your hand behind you and grazes his canines below your collarbone. You gasp as his tongue runs over the mark of his claim. His lips move up, placing teasing bites all over your throat and finally on your lips. It's barely a contact, yet it draws you in.

"Ride my thigh, sweetness." his breath is hot against your lips. Your breath hitches when he positions his thigh right against your core while he sets the rhythm, for you to fall, to get lost in him.

: MYST

[misslionfigther]

VENOMLIKE QUIRK for Himiko Toga.

Lately I have been thinking of a way to make Toga stronger when it come to fighting. I love her transformation Quirk and the possibility of her using others quirks but I think they nerfed that ability a little bit by her needing an emotional connection to the person she is drinking blood. Which is OK, it also make it more special character wise but it also mean she would have to fight more often with her knifes enemies that cool destroy her in a minute. She is practically fighting Quirkless. So I have an idea but is possible that I am making it to OP.

My idea started by making her Quirk be sentient almost like Dark Shadow. I also draw inspiration from werewolf fanfic in which sometimes they have to live with the wolf inside of them and can communicate with the beast. Toga gives me vampire/predator/beast vibes even more if her Quirk make her have like the instinct to "hunt" for blood and drink the blood from the people she love. Very vampire like. It can also serve like a second personality that urge her to use her Quirk and "feed".

However, Im taking my inspiration in Venom from Marvel, the bird powers of the Manga Birdmen, and even the abilities of Power from Chainsaw Man. But after reading more about the Symbiontes ability and their appearances I think is easier to just use Venom as the inspiration since it does practically what the Birdmen do. Also the thirst for blood is literally a Venom thing.

So with this in mind I am imagine Toga with a Symbionte as her Quirk. When she active her Quirk she becomes "Venom" and in that form she can transform and manipulate its biomass to: design her "suit" (whether is a classical superhero suit/armor or make it look more demonic like and looking like an actual beast), make her have more muscles, create claws and meele weapons, tentacles with needles, wings, be able to stick to wall. And her actual power to turn into other people not matter the size, I also include animals.

Almost like Venom, she can cure some of her wounds, can hold inside of it small things that don't weight much (like her clothes, purse, knifes or even a blood tank) and has enhanced physical ability while she wears the suit, like speed, agility, strength, resistance, flexibility, not to the level of All Might, The Flass, and Superman and others whose actual superpower is that enhanced ability, but enough to make her punches a real challenge and hurt a lot as well as having resistance to take to the punch. That enhanced physical ability, can explain how agile she is in canon and how she was able resist the explosion while fighting Curious. Her speed could be also the explanation why sometimes she can pass undetected.

Her weaknesses are the ultrasonic waves that make her lose her enhanced strength, speed, etc. Also just like Power from Chainsaw Man and Toga in Canon, her Quirk is fule by blood. Meaning she might be able to use all this cool things if she has drunk big quantities of blood. Maybe with actual training and experience she could use all her abilities with just a cup but until then she run out of blood pretty quickly so long battles are another of her weakness. In order to fight long battles she has to stick with one tipe of transformation or rely on her enhancements. The more she transformed he biomass more blood she burn. Like in Canon she can only turn into the people she has drunk their blood, the same can be said for the animals. The more she has to chance her size, more energy she would need. The forms that take the less effort from the less to just a little more are : some blood red brackets for her teeth, making a Venomlike mask, turning into "Venom" and/or make a knife or needle to suck blood. More things like decorating the suit, make "spider webs" or even wings to fly, as well as using the quicks of those she have an emotional connection, would break the transformation quickly. Running out of blood would first break transformation if she was in one but still be able to be in Venom form, later she might lose her Venom form but still have a little bit of enhancements without it, later she would not have any type of power but can still communicate with it. However, if she stays without drinking blood for a long period of time like weeks, month... can be bad for her health from having anemia, fainting, can cause pain on her limbs, her Quirk can end up sucking her glucose, fat... Maybe acting like a kind of Diabetes I. Eating can help a little bit but not much. However, she can do it the other way around, where she can sustain herself with only drinking blood since the Symbionte also heal her health problems. Which means this girl have been surviving in the streets by sucking the blood from her victims like and actual vampire. She can't be stuck drinking blood for a long time or daily, since she can end up found by heroes, so the moment she can drink, she has to drink how much she can. It can end her killing her prey in the process or being only able to drink a little bit and run, so she is unable to fill her "blood tank" making her only able to use the basic or her Quirk having to rely in only the enhancements and is always running hungry. The more hungry she is the less she can control her Venomlike personality and is running by instinct. This Quirk also make her more sensitive to the smell of blood and the taste being able to track and distinguish people one from the other.

In other words, Toga has a Venomlike symbiote that is the physical manifestación of her Quirk and also a mix between a second personality and her basc instincts. Like survival, reproductive, protective, possessive instincts. And Toga can communicate with it in her mind constantly. It urge Toga to act violent but can also show loyalty and be protective.

I think it can be a really versatile Quirk but since it run by blood. I don't think is to OP since she can't fight for long or do to many things at the same time.

[goldentsum]

━ pretty submissives pt. 2

CHARACTERS: tsukishima kei, kageyama tobio, oikawa tooru, kuroo tetsurou

WARNINGS: smut, 18+ content, sub! males, dom! reader, bdsm, sex toys, whiny subs, bratty subs, bondage, oral sex, handjobs, ass play (male), pet play, age play, mistress kink, mommy kink, guided masturbation, voyeurism

AUTHOR’S NOTE: lol tis filthyyy <3 i am hiding my pain away with smut stfu- dont @ me wanting to cry but wrote porn instead- unedited bleggh

part 1 - miya twins, sakusa, suna

— tsukishima ♡

• this brat likes testing your patience! tsukki may go subby but he won’t go down without a fight. that way it hurts his pride less-- 

• one time, he really tried to take back some dominance from you but you started degrading him and smacking his face.. he came in less than a minute.

• and that’s how you both knew tsukki was a masochist 

• put him back in his place and humiliate him! it may hurt his pride but the hard on between his legs says that he likes it--

• seeing the tall and prideful man on all fours with a tight leash on his neck and a mussel to stop that snarky mouth of his is feeding dangerously on your dom side

• tsukki would try and degrade you but when you snap back, he’ll get teary-- baby would try to serve some sadist type of shit on you but if you do the same to him, he’ll cry

• play and bite his lips until its all raw and red, he likes it. though, he’ll complain about it afterwards as if he wasn’t moaning like a whore just earlier. 

you smirked at the weak glare the man sent you. tsukishima was sitting on his legs, hands neatly on his lap. the strong act he tried to maintain before was going down hill and it was amusing. you snickered and you caressed his aching cock with your feet making him gasp and kneel over but you tugged on the leash, almost sending him on all fours. 

“didn’t i told you to keep your eyes on me, whore” you growled, a teasing smirk on your red lips. oh how tsukishima wants to wipe that arrogant smirk off your lips. he furrowed his brows and went back to his previous spot with small pants escaping him. 

you noticed the way he pursed his lips and tugged on the leash again, choking the man before you, “you have something to say to me, puppy?” 

tsukishima bit his tongue at that and shook his head, though he was beyond pissed at your prideful and arrogant play, he can’t really deny the arousal that was slowly beading on his cock. 

your smirk fell and you gripped his chin, “use your words. do you not want to talk? do i have to get your mussel, pup?” 

tsukishima’s breath hitched at the mention of the damn mussel, his cock twitching against his stomach. “n-no, mistress..” 

you hummed in satisfaction and leaned back a bit, admiring his nude body on display just for you. you licked your lips when his long cock caught your eye, the head was red and leaking with precum already even though you barely touched him. 

“you like this, tsukki?~ look at how hard you are” you teased, pulling the leash once again as the tall man was forced into your arms. tsukishima yelped and tried to steady himself by supporting himself on your arms. 

you sneaked a hand between his legs, caressing his cock. the blond closed his eyes tightly, gasping against your chest as you played with his body. 

stroking his cock with an amused smirk, you tipped his chin towards you. your darkened eyes stared into embarrassed and teary golden orbs. you squeezed his length, coating his dick with the precum that leaked out. tsukishima moaned and tried to close his eyes again but you weren’t having none of that. 

you halted your actions on his cock and slapped him lightly on his cheek, gentle enough to not hurt as much but strong enough to get him to pay attention to you. “none of that, pup. look at me. look at how your slutty body gets off with such dirty acts~” 

— kageyama ♡

• he’s a little :>>

• kageyama has an oral fixation, he likes using his mouth whether that’s on your fingers, nipples, or your clit-

• if you have a nipple piercing, baby boy would be in complete awe! he thinks it looks super good! or even if you wear rings! he likes the feeling of the metal on his tongue. 

• pretty boy looks good when he sucks on your fingers, that slick tongue swirling around your digits, coating them with thick spit. he gets super red and needy while he does it too! he looks at you with half lidded eyes, moaning around your fingers. 

• baby doesn’t even know his cock is getting hard while he plays with your fingers.

• please take care of him </3 he gets super anxious if you don’t say anything, kageyama feels like he did something wrong so reassure this baby!

• buy him toys and stuffies! it makes him really happy and shy~ <3 

• also not @ that one time where you caught him humping one of his teddy bears-- 

“now what do we have here?~” your voice cut through kageyama’s series of needy moans making him yelp and stop his constant humping. his ears turned red at the fact that you caught him doing such impure act. 

“m-mommy--” he sniffled, tears welling up on his pretty blue eyes. kageyama turned to you, a pout on his lips. he didn’t want you to think you weren’t taking good care of him cus you are! he was just feeling so needy today and you had to go to work. 

kageyama really tried to control his urges but the more he tried to ignore it, the more it intensifies as every shift of his hips made him more sensitive. 

you shook your head playfully at that and closed the bedroom behind you, stalking slowly towards the trembling man. he slumped on the stuffie and tried to reason but he was just babbling incoherent words. you hummed at his chattering and run a hand through his hair, wiping the sweat on his forehead. 

“is my baby feeling needy?” you cooed, you bit your lips at the beautiful sight. your boyfriend is so fucking beautiful. cheeks all red, eyes teary with tears of frustration of not getting to cum and sensitivity. your hand lowered down to his cheek, stroking the warm skin. 

your eyes darkened when your fingers trailed down to his lips and instinctively, kageyama opened his mouth, already licking the tip of your fingers. the dark-haired male whined around your digits when you started playing with his tongue, thrusting it in his mouth. 

“words, baby boy” kageyama’s eyes rolled back at your tone, moaning loudly. he opened his eyes and looked straight at you, lips trembling around your fingers. 

“p-pwease helph meh, mwommy” he babbled, slurring his words as he still tried to lick your digits.

“atta boy~ don’t worry, mommy will help you cum~” you cooed, removing your fingers out of his mouth and trailed down his stomach, feeling the flexing muscles, then towards his aching cock. you coated his length with his spit, thumbing the swollen tip. 

kageyama gasped and his hips moved at the sudden contact. you smirked down at him slightly as he held your wrist, though not really stopping you just something to ground him. “let’s hear those pretty moans, baby boy~” 

— oikawa ♡

• a wholeass confident sub. he knows he’s a good sub and he takes pride on that

• you can’t even reprimand him cus he follows your rules to the t. so headpats and cuddles for tooru pls <3

• though he follows your rules, oikawa doesn’t really pay attention to his body and it’s limits. all he knows is that he wants to make you proud and feel good. 

• so please take the time to appreciate his body, praise him. yes, he gets compliments all the time but when it’s coming from you and in that moment? it just feels so intimate that he’ll cry.

• kiss his skin, caress his body. make him feel loved and he’s all yours. <3 

• when he gets too into the play, he really forgets everything else but you. so what better way to stop and slow down than make him show you how he pleasure himself <3

• tooru doesn’t really masturbate all that much so he’s a little clumsy so guide him through it <3 HE GETS REALLY SHY TOO

• when you stare at him like that, admiring his body, praising him, telling him how much of a good boy he is, how beautiful he is? oikawa’s offering you his heart pls take care of it :((

you smiled at oikawa, his breath ragged with every slow stroke he does as he massaged his cock. your eyes trailed up and down his body, admiring the way he arch his back and the way his thighs trembles. 

“slowly, baby~ you don’t wanna ruin your orgasm now do you?” you said, leaning back on your legs on the mattress, getting a good view of his cock and his stroking. 

oikawa whined, eyebrows furrowed. the slow build-up once again was making him impatient and it was getting to him. he wants to cum so bad, you denied him a couple of his orgasms already. he hic-ed, feeling his tears trail down his red cheeks. 

you cooed at the sight and leaned closer to him, hovering above him. oikawa gasped at the slight contact of your clothed body on his heated skin. he removed his hands away from his cock and wrapped his arms around you. 

letting a hand caress his cheek, wiping the tear away. you let out soft praises on his forehead, kissing it several times as you do so. oikawa sniffled, biting his lips as he savor your affection. he was always a sucker for it, always the soft boy with a big heart 

“p-please... i want to cum” oikawa whispered, lips quivering as he wet it with his tongue. he gasped when he felt your hands on his cock. you grinned at him then went back to your previous position between his legs. 

you blew air into his cock making the man whimper on the bed, writhing around trying to make you move. you snickered at the pout he sent your way. 

“such a pretty baby, you are tooru~” you complimented and before he can say anything, you took him in your mouth in one go. oikawa choked on air at the feeling of your warm and wet mouth around his sensitive cock. 

oikawa moaned when you swiped your tongue on the red tip, swallowing his length as you bob your head. 

he gripped the blankets beneath him, eyes rolling back. you removed your mouth off him, jerking his length. “wanna cum, baby?” 

he sobbed and nodded his head frantically, feeling the band on his lower stomach threatening to snap once again as he pray that you would let him cum this time. “p-please! i want to cum! need it! it hurts!” he cried

you grinned and took him into your mouth again, moving faster. the pretty male gasped and his hips started jerking making you gag on his length. his eyes rolled back to his skull at the feeling of your throat tightening around him, his mouth wide open as he released several loud moans. 

you sneaked a hand to his balls, massaging it. your tongue traced the prominent vein on his cock and oikawa keened at that and came with a loud broken moan. you hummed in satisfaction and continued to bob your head, your hand jerking the rest of his cock. 

you lapped at the thick cum he released, slurping it up as he shivered and sobbed at the sensitivity. “t-thank you.... thank y-you” 

— kuroo ♡

• okay some of you may think he’s all dom and won’t sub but you’re forgetting something... he’s a simp. he would do anything for you! also, kuroo thrives for your attention!

•  he loves hard shit! i know it! bdsm, toys, bondage? perfecttt!! <3 

• kuroo tried pegging once and now he’s addicted! fuck his ass while you degrade him is his go to to de-stress 

• make him cum several times until he can’t feel his cock anymore. he loves the pain it brings. the sting. the sensitivity. 

• also because of the fact he screams and cries.. so his voice goes all raspy and his throat is scratchy

• choke him. collar him. he will propose to you <3 KSKSKS

• but after all that bdsm shit, please take care of his tired body. aftercare is a must for this baby or he’ll be so detached after. kiss his bruises. kiss his swollen and red lips. mutter sweet nothings to him. tell him how much you love him and he’ll sleep with a tired but soft smile on his face

“yes... yes, moreee. m-moree” kuroo chanted against your pussy, eating you out like a starved man. he groaned against your wet cunt, tongue swiping at your slit as he tasted you. his hands were on your thighs, pushing them together so he can feel your thick thighs against his face. 

he gripped your thighs, moaning like a bitch in heat. he slurped at your essence, eyes rolling back at your taste. his hips moving unconsciously. you moaned, caressing his hair, as you looked down at his fucked out expression with a smirk. 

“such a dirty boy~” you snickered when kuroo moaned lewdly at your words, his eyes rolling back to his head as his mouth worked on your cunt faster. he wiggled his tongue inside you, licking your gummy walls. 

“ahh.. fuck, tetsu” you moaned softly which only urged him to work on your pussy harder. you chuckled breathlessly at his eagerness as you turned your head a bit. you looked at his twitching cock. 

you put the cock ring earlier but the man was still leaking precum everywhere. his cock was so beautiful. thick and long, the tip red and swollen. you grinned and moved away from tetsu’s mouth. 

you heard the man whined at the lost of contact. you faced toward his shaking thighs and sat on his stomach as you turned your head back to look at him. god, he looks so pretty~ 

kuroo was panting, chest heaving heavily. his lower face was covered with your wetness as he constantly licked his lips. his eyes blown wide with lust. 

you smirked at him and touched his cock, snickering when the touch made him whimpered as he arched on the bed. paying no mind to his senseless babbling, you lowered yourself to his cock, using his trembling thighs to support yourself.

kuroo’s eyes rolled back to his head at the way your wet and gummy wall clung to his sensitive length and it was enough to make him cum but the cock ring was preventing him from doing so. 

he looked at you with teary eyes, eyebrows furrowed. you smirked and then face forward to reached for the dildo beside you, slowly inserting it into his prepped ass which earned you a husky groan. “make me cum and i’ll think about it if you deserve to cum as well~” you cooed.

kuroo cried when you started moving, your pussy clenching tightly around his dick, while your hands thrust the thick dildo in his ass, prodding his prostate. his hands flew to your hips, his half-lidded eyes watching your ass bounce in front of him, “f-fuck!” 

[yesimwriting]

To Be Alone

VAGUE SPOILER WARNING FOR SHADOW AND BONE BOOK SERIES-- I try hard not to mention why the Darkling/General Kirigan is the bad guy so that I don’t spoil anything,, but the reader finds out that he lies about his identity and that he’s super sketchy/not a good guy (again,, I avoided as many specifics as possible to keep it from being spoiler-y)

Warnings: lowkey manipulation, kissing/makeout, slight fingering

A/n y’all drove me to this lol,, pls be nice!! This is the closest to full on smut I’ve ever written!! Ahh I’m lowkey scared to post

Summary: the reader finds out something about the Darkling/General Kirigan, he finds a way to convince her to stay 

--

No amount of evidence will ever be enough to convince me fully. A part of me will always hold onto unjustifiable doubt because a part of me hopes that if I hold onto the lies tight enough they’ll turn into the truth. But that’s not how the world works. 

General Kirigan. Ravka put its faith in him. I put my faith in him. I did more than that. I pushed aside my reservations and doubt in order to try and comfort him when he spoke of loneliness. Was all that a lie as well? 

No. I can’t afford to think of the emotional side of it all, because if I do I may find myself incapable of moving from this spot. I don’t have time to reflect on it all, to try and unravel hopeful lies and manipulative truths. That can be done when I’m not here. If I stay here, he’ll know I know and he’ll stop me from...what? What am I supposed to do next? I could find someone with some level of power to warn. 

“There you are.” Kirigan. I’m turned towards the window, not facing him, but there is no weariness or malice in his voice. He has no reason to suspect my suspicion. “Are you unwell?” 

Calm. I need to pass as calm. Not turning, I force myself to ignore the endearing hint of concern in his voice. “No.” I can hear his measured footsteps. “Why would you think that?” 

“I haven’t seen you all day,” he’s directly behind me now. If I turn, I’ll practically be against his chest. “And you didn’t come see me last night.” 

Oh. I knew it was a mistake to begin to pull on such a small thread so close to when he expected to see me, but it kept gnawing on me. That doubt. That tiny thing I couldn’t ever let go off. “I fell asleep.” No--I cringe at my impulsive response. He knows how difficult it is for me to fall asleep. “Yesterday was just really...draining.” 

In an easy movement, he places his hand on my shoulder. It’s a silent request for me to turn. Exhaling, I obey. Why? I could lie to myself and say that I’m listening to him in order to kill his suspicions, but the effect he has on me is undeniable. Even before touching each other became a casual thing on his part, my body wanted to react to him. 

He’s quick to cup my face, tilting my chin up slightly so that I can’t avoid his gaze. “What troubles you, little dove?” A nickname for when he’s feeling particularly gentle. Thoughts of the evil he has to be twist my stomach as my face flushes. Kirigan’s thumb brushes over the corner of my bottom lip, stalling as I fight the urge to melt into the contact. I meet his tense gaze cautiously. “You said nothing could make you look at me differently.” No. There’s no way he figured out my change with one look alone. I’ll deny it. I’ll do what I need to do to be convincing, and then I’ll manage to escape. His grip on my shoulder tightens. “Don’t you dare lie to me again.” 

The urge to snap and point out the sick irony of him telling me not to lie at him almost forces me to break. His gaze starts to shift away from me--towards the half packed escape bag I’d been in the middle of constructing. I stretch my arms forward, desperate to keep his gaze on me and away from what I can’t explain. 

Kirigan’s free hand moves to pull my hand off of his cheek, but he pauses, eyes shutting in peaceful contentment. “What do you know?” 

I expected his words to be angry, to border on violent...but he just sounds tired. Please, Saints, let me be wrong. “Is there anything to know?” The only reaction I get is the slightest stall of his breathing. “You said you didn’t want to be alone anymo--” 

“I don’t.” The harshness of his words almost coax a small flinch from me. 

Swallowing back the knot in my stomach, I exhale slowly. “A part of not being alone is being honest.” 

His eyes finally open. I don’t dare move as he moves my hand off of his cheek so that he can brush his lips against my knuckles. I suppress an embarrassing shudder. “You wouldn’t have stayed--if you knew you wouldn’t ha--” 

No denial. I can’t--I can’t do this. “You know what the worst part is?” I can’t believe I’m about to say this. I can’t believe it’s true. “I might have.” Those words break something in me as I force myself away from him. The lack of contact leaves me more frozen than ever. “I might have! I might have been able to bear all the monstrous things you’ve done if you had just--” 

“What?!” He meets my outburst with one of equal power. “You might have stayed regardless?” The way he scoffs leaves me feeling like a wandering child. “You might have still looked at me like I hung the stars in the sky instead of like I’m the darkness they fight against?” I stay silent as he steps forward, quick to hold my chin in place with his long fingers. “I couldn’t risk you on possibility.” Kirigan’s gaze is so intense, a part of me is surprised that shadows don’t come at me--drowning me in darkness and him. “And don’t think me foolish enough to believe that someone like you would understand that I have to do what I’m doing--” 

“Have to?” No--how did I almost let him lure me back in so easily. I pull myself away, approaching my open wardrobe. “That’s not past tense.” He’s still--he’s still actively hurting people. Why had I been so stupidly naive to think that maybe this was all history? “I--I can’t do this.” 

Each step towards the exit of the room chips away at a piece of my soul. “You’re not walking away from me,” his strong grip is on my arm in a sharp instinct, “I won’t--I can’t be alone again.” 

I swallow back the lump of emotion in my throat. “You already are.” 

His eyes are pleading, pools of frightened adoration. “No--no,” he steps towards me, not releasing his grip on my arm, “You’re hurt that I lied, but now I’ll never have to lie to you again.” I push against his grip. Kirigan doesn’t release me. “Y/n,” my name is a lament from his lips, “Please.” 

My eyes round out as my heart leaps into my chest. “I used to think that you were only touched by the darkness, but now I’m not sure you can tell where the darkness ends and you begin.” His grip just barely falters. Maybe it’s acceptance. 

I shift weakly, a softer attempt to escape. His grip tightens even more than before as he tugs me forward. The reminder of his physical strength leaves me frozen in shock. I can’t read his expression, but something about him has darkened. When I don’t pull away again, his thumb brushes up and down my forearm. The silkiness of his touch is warm temptation. I inhale slowly as he moves his other arm in order to touch my shoulder. The contact is almost shy. 

“Kirigan,” my voice betrays me, breaking as his fingers trace down my collar, “What--what are you doing?” 

He tilts his head, taking in the way his touch rids my body of fight. “Nothing, really.” His voice is low, supple in its assuredness. “You’re the only person who has ever seen me--and for you to leave me after that.” 

“No,” I try to step back, but my body freezes as he toys with the collar of my dress, “What I saw--what I found out--that wasn’t you.” 

“It’s who I have to make myself be,” he whispers, “I’m doing what needs to be done.” 

“That logic can earn you a lot,” my words are careful, “But it cannot earn you me.” 

His hand brushes past my neck, finding the root of my hair. Kirigan pulls on it slightly, forcing me to expose my lower jaw and neck. I’m still as he leans forward, warm breath fanning across my skin. I fight against a shiver in vain as his lips brush down my skin, only stopping as he nips the base of my neck. I can’t help the small sound of surprise that escapes me. 

“Are you sure about that?” Blood rushes to my face, motivated by both embarrassment and something else. “Little dove, don’t ruin us.” His touch is warm, but his words leave me with an uncomfortable chill. In an attempt to escape the coldness, I half-press myself into the trail of soft and desperate kisses he’s leaving down my neck.

Kirigan pauses, exhaling slowly, and I feel some mental strength return to me. “There can’t be an us--not like this.” 

“Y/n.” He never uses my name. “You are the only light I know.” His words steal something from me as he pulls away enough to look me in the eyes. “I can’t handle the weight of solitude anymore--it’s worse than the dark.”

 I am unflinching, watching him with a markman’s care. Kirigan takes my silence as a positive. I don’t move as his gaze drops to my lips before he presses his own together. I don’t move as he destroys the distance between us like it’s some type of unbearable weight. His lips meet mine with enough force to bruise my face. The surprise of it gives him the chance to coax my lips into parting as his hands move to either side of my face. My body reacts without my permission, letting him deepen the kiss. Every time I find some kind of free will, Kirigan pushes it away with some kind of tactful lull of his tongue. Keeping his control, Kirigan ends the kiss by grazing sharp teeth against my bottom lip. 

I’m left panting. “You’re--you lied, Kirigan--I--” 

“You told me once you could never see me as a monster.”

“I said that to a version of you that technically doesn’t exist.” 

The grief in my chest and desire in my stomach twist in a nauseating way. Kirigan’s eyes watch me patiently, a pain similar to my own reflected in them. “Who I am when I’m with you is less fictitious than any identity I’ve ever given myself.”

The vulnerability in his voice is as alluring and distracting as the kiss. I find myself thinking of the warmth of his mouth against my skin. He had kissed me like the cure for ancient solitude could come from me. I think he had a point, because now that he’s not touching me in that way I feel the familiar tugs of cold emptiness. 

“I don’t understa--” My words are cut off by his lips brushing against mine. 

His touch is soft, but it’s far from shy as he draws out the kiss. It’s an attempt to keep me on edge, to keep me wanting him enough to push past my doubts. “Y/n,” there’s a reverent quality to his voice, “I--” Kirigan grabs the collar of my dress, pulling me to him sharply. His kiss conveys things that neither of us truly understand. “Don’t go.” 

I don’t want to. The realization is a cruel wave crashing against my chest. “You lie to everyone, you lie to me--you--you hurt and destroy and I--” One of his hands brushes against the hem of my dress. “What are you,” the words are supposed to be sharp, but my resolve melts as his hand presses firmly against my thigh, “Doing?” 

“You know me,” he draws out each word as his fingers graze towards the inside of my thighs. The cool metal of his rings are practically ice against my flushed skin. “Little dove, trust me.” 

My nails dig into my palms as I try to ignore what he’s doing. “I did and you betrayed me.” 

“I couldn’t lose you,” he whispers, thumb inching up my inner thigh.

I press my lips together, fighting against a natural reaction. “You did lose me.” 

Kirigan’s eyes darken as his grip on my thigh tightens. “We’ll move past this.” He’s both pleading and assured. “I think I know how to make it up to you.” He trails his hand up my thigh swiftly, stopping with his hand on my lower hip. Shamelessly, he toys with the hem of my underwear. “The only thing that’s really changed is that now I’m touching you like this.” 

The only thing I can do is gape at him. He’s a villain, his hands are coated in unnecessarily spilled blood, and I am helpless against his slightest touch. I should try pushing him away or at the very least resist his blatant advantages. His fingers brush down my underwear, stopping at a growing wet spot. The knowing look he gives me burns my core. I try to keep my expression hard in a final form of protest, but when he presses his pointer finger against me all the resolve in me is shattered. 

My eyebrows draw together as a small sound escapes me, “Kirigan.” I can’t tell if it’s praise or a warning. 

He pauses, hand retracting slightly at my whining. “Y/n,” his other hand cups my cheek. I lean into the contact without permission from my body. “There is only one name that I have not given myself and only one name I want to hear you breathe like that.” His thumb traces my lips softly. I don’t move as he leans forward, turning his lips towards my ear. 

“Aleksander.” His name is nothing more than a breath, a stolen heartbeat on his lips. 

He presses his fingers against where I’m the weakest again. My hips grind forward instinctually, desperate for more contact as he kisses the top of my jaw. 

“Aleksander.” The name escapes me in the form of a broken moan. Speaking it feels more intimate than the way he’s touching me. 

There’s the slightest pause in his consuming actions. “Again,” he breathes, “Say my name again.” His request is so soft it feels like he’s more at my mercy than I am at his. 

My eyes shut as his teeth graze my neck. “Aleksander.” At the sound of his name, his teeth brush against my skin harder than ever. 

When he starts to pull away, I reach out desperately, grabbing his kefta. “I thought you wanted to leave, little dove.” 

No. No. He is not going to get me to agree to stay by giving me something as intimate as his original name and by denying me his touch. “Please.” 

He reaches for my hand, pulling it off of him cruelly. “Do you want to stay with me?” 

I know which answer will get me what I really want, but I’m not sure which answer is true. Do I want to stay with him? Even after knowing what he’s done? “I don’t want to leave you.” The vulnerability of the statement cracks at my heart. He turns away from me in order to face the wall. I take a tentative step towards. “But I’m not sure what I want matters.” 

In one quick motion, he’s yanking more forward and pressing me into the wall. “Of course desire matters,” his body is pressed against mine almost entirely, “It means something.” He brushes his knuckles against my cheek. “It means you could choose me.” 

What could I say to that? I part my lips to speak but he silences me by pressing his lips against my jaw. I offer no protest as he starts touching me the way he did earlier. I’m more desperate now, more needy and okay with that. His fingers slip past my underwear testingly, hesitating before finally entering me slowly. 

“Aleksander,” my voice is so needy I’m not sure it’s my own. 

“I want you to say my name like that again,” he whispers, kissing down my collarbone as he begins to press his fingers in and out of me faster, “And I want you to say my name casually,” his pace doesn’t slow, even when I begin to let out indistinguishable whines, “And I want you to say my name while you’re falling asleep,” his touch becomes more aggressive as his words become more sincere, “And I want you to say my name every other way there is to say it.” 

The bundle of nerves in the pit of my stomach grows until there’s nothing else for me to hold onto. I finish with a sharp gasp. The feeling of euphoria is only intensified as Aleksander begins to kiss up my jaw before finally pressing our lips together. 

I break the kiss first, desperate to breathe. Have my legs been so shaky this entire time? Aleksander lets me recover, resting his head against my forehead. “I’m tired of being alone.” 

I imagine all the foul acts he’s committed and all the bad he wants to bring. I picture all the innocent blood he’s spilled. I see all of it--every horror and dark deed he’s ever committed. But I cannot see me leaving him. Maybe that makes me a monster, maybe that makes me an idiot...but I can’t do it. 

Slowly, I move to drape my arms over his back in a loose hug. “You’re not alone, Aleksander.” I’m not sure what that signifies, but I know it’s true. There has to be good in him. No one capable of such warmth can be pure evil. “I choose you.”