#but I was in a situation that I was desperate to get out of

[bblairxe]

— ୨ৎ needy ! ellie x reader . mdni

    “fuck baby, please, please untie me”

    ellie pissed you off, completely pissed you off. it started with just an innocent yap session, her back flushed against her headboard and your thighs straddling her lap. you were ranting about your new interest and how much it meant to you. going on and on about how dull you felt before discovering it, and that it changed your life completely. 

    she was listening, well trying her best to listen, but it was just so, so hard. she kept getting lost in the way your eyes lit up when you would go into depth about it, or how your lips curled up into the sweetest smile. 

    you would notice though, all of her nods and ‘mhms’ would just fade into silence and a still head. 

    “ellie, ellie!” her eyes snap back to yours, pulling her out of her thoughts. “did you hear me?” 

    she gives you a clueless expression, but still slowly nods her head, dragging out a long ‘yes’.

    “oh yeah, then what did i say?” your arms cross over your chest, obviously you’re not convinced. the girl has been staring at your lips for the past 5 minutes! 

    “you were talking about the, um, the uh, solar system!” her tone is confident, but you can tell she hasn’t heard shit you said. regardless, you let her pass and continue rambling on. 

    for once, she actually starts listening again. nodding her head, asking questions, humming after every couple of sentences. it was actually really sweet, like a bonding moment for the two of you. well, that’s until you get too excited and bounced on her lap. 

    her chest tightened, you were clueless but the impact sent a shock to her cunt. she tightened her hold on your hips to stabilize herself, but that didn’t work either. her eyes fell down to your white, floral tank top, and the way they hugged your boobs perfectly. she knew she was faltering again, but damn did you look good.

    yes, her hands on your her hips were to just help her maintain composure, but she has other things in mind. according to her, if you stay in this exact position and just pushed your lower half a little closer to hers, she’d be relieving that ache in her core.

    so she tried it, and god did it feel good. 

    she kept her eyes trained on your face, being attentive but with a different focus. her hands rested on your hips and pushed them, ever so slightly, to her heat. it connects and it takes every ounce of her to not let out the whiniest noise ever.

    every time the two of you meet, her hips buck up. her lip is taught between her teeth, trying to conceal those noises that are fighting to come out. she took in every part of you, her eyes now glued onto chest, staring at how your tits slightly jiggle with each movement.

    you’re not oblivious to whole situation. it’s affecting you too, but you just have a better way of hiding it than ellie. you look down at her face and it’s absolutely pathetic. her mouth is agape, formed into a little o - shape, small gasps leaving her lips. her eyes are doe - eyed, with teary lashes. poor baby feels so good she starts tearing up. 

    she noticed you stopped talking, your eyes burning into her face. an immediate stream of apologies come out, but she doesn’t stop her movements. in fact, they’re more intense, more desperate.

    “s - sorry, didn’t mean too — mmh, ahhh — didn’t mean too, m’ sorry baby, feels so good,” 

    her head falls backwards, giving you complete access to her neck. you lean down, sucking until small purple bruises dot the skin, like a twisted painting. the feeling elicits a loud whine from her, nails digging into your sides as if she’ll die if you leave.

    your lips come up to hear ear, grazing it and whisper, “i know, baby. hope i’m making you feel good right now, you’ll be begging for more later.”

    and that’s how she ended up here. 

    her hands were now restricted above her head  by your favorite dark red handcuffs. it’s a beautiful sight, really. ellie all tied up for you, her legs spread and hips bucking in search for friction. every sentence that leaves her lips is either a string of apologies or promises to make you feel good. 

    you on the other hand had your legs splayed out in front of her, fucking your fingers in and out of your pussy. you knew it didn’t feel the same, nothing could compare to the way ellie fucks you, but you still had to put on a show.

    “fuck,” draws out from your lips, your breath hitching dramatically. you drag your fingers out for a second then, plunging them back deep into you. a soft, shaky moan slips and you know it’s driving ellie crazy. 

    her pupils are blown out as she watches you. her knuckles turn white, fingers twitching like she can feel the ghost of your skin against hers. another metal clank echoes throughout the bedroom from her tugging at her restraints, begging, pleading to be released. “baby, i’m sorry, you look so pretty, and i promise i’ll make you feel good. just please, please, please, please.”

    your fingers slow down, but still curling enough to release small moans. you watch as she tries to rut against nothing, seeking relief she won’t get. 

    “you wanna make me feel good?” you hum, kneading your chest with your free hand. 

    she nods frantically, her mouth parts to speak but you shoot her a look that silences her. “yeah?  and what makes you think you deserve that?” you drag your fingers out of your cunt, spreading it for her. 

    she gawks at the sight, drool nearly spilling out of her lips. “b-because i fucked up, and i wanna make it up to you, please.” 

    you’re amused to say the least, seeing her need to please you sends a wave of possessiveness and control through your body. a smile forms at her desperation, tilting your head in a condescending way. 

    “oh, love. you’re gonna have to do a lot more begging than that.”

🏷️ : @ellieslosttwofingers @polarhues @pornoangelz @sapphichounded

[juniusgirl]

I had this giant golden when i was young that could open the sliding glass door. He'd get up on his hind legs, grab the door handle with his mouth (how...it was one of these:)

And then he'd push off the frame with his front paws. He was a clever dog, but a bit inconsiderate, as he never closed the door after himself. Still, the other dogs at the very least seemed to love it.

He would even try to do it when it was locked, and as anyone who has ever had a sliding glass door probably knows, the locks are pretty shit, and sometimes he could get it open just by trying hard enough. Eventually, of course, it broke entirely, and like in the video, or rather like anyone who has had a sliding glass door more than a year old, we put a piece of wood in the frame to keep it closed.

Of course, the stick method was far more effective, which meant our clever golden couldn't brute force it open if it were "locked" anymore. Which wasn't usually a problem, except for situations like this.

I more than once had been locked out of the house, sometimes on accident. Usually we had a spare key outside but in this particular incident it wasn't available for whatever reason. Naturally i tried to do this very thing with him. Like i said he was a very clever dog. He knew i wanted in! He tried the handle! But it just wouldn't budge.

I was reviewing my options, i couldn't get to a window i knew was unlocked without a ladder and we didn't have one. I had learned to pick one of my locks recently but i didn't have anything i could use for that on me. No one would be home for hours. My closest friends at the time, whose houses i'd just walked home from, lived 3 miles away. Looked like i might be stuck.

Then our other golden came to the door. She was also a smart dog, but more passive--a therapy dog actually--and she had some medical problems that meant standing up on her hind legs was difficult. But you know what she loved more than anything (besides disgustingly dirty scraps of old toys)? Sticks.

So i essentially started doing this, encouraging her to grab the stick, to show me her stick, get me the stick!

There was a lot of barking. A lot of tail-wagging. A lot of me getting more and more frustrated and desperate in the hot summer sun. But in the end....

She never figured it out. Luckily we had a big tree in our front yard so i climbed back over our fence and hung out in the shade until my mom came home. But i recognize sound effort, so we did play tug with a rank piece of what might have been a toy pheasant after dinner. She won.

This dog unlocked the door for his human

[fr1olily]

Big sis who is exhausted after a long day at work. She gets home and plops down on the couch, not wanting to move a muscle.

Little sis who wants to play with her big sis, but can't convince her to get up and do anything. She knows work has been hard on her big sis lately and she misses getting to spend time with her. It makes her sad to see the toll that it's taken on her sister and she wants to do anything she can to cheer her up.

Little sis gets an idea. She gently unzips her sister's pants and pulls out big sis's girlcock. She starts gently licking it, eliciting soft, involuntary moans from her half-asleep sister. As she gets a bit more confident, she takes the tip in her mouth, causing it to twitch as she swirls her tongue around it.

Big sis's eye's flutter open. Her face flushes and her cock fully hardens as she realizes what her little sister is doing. She briefly thinks that maybe she should put a stop to it, but fuuuuck, it just feels soooo good... Besides, she doesn't have the energy to put up a fight even if she wanted to. She's entirely at the mercy of her little sister. "Mmmmhh... sis..." she moans louder, accepting her situation.

Little sis takes this as the green light, and starts to take more of her big sister into her mouth, bobbing her head up and down more vigorously on her shaft. This has the effect of producing increasingly feral noises from her big sister, who has completely lost all ability to hold back.

Big sis who is rapidly approaching the edge. She can barely eek out the word "C- CUMMING!!!" before her throbbing cock begins to pulsate as she explodes into her little sister's mouth.

Little sis who desperately drinks up all of her big sister's sweet cum, sucking out the last of it as her sister rides the aftershocks.

Once she starts to regain her senses, big sis gently pulls her little sis into an embrace. She smiles and plants a kiss on her little sister's forehead, then whispers in her ear, "I love you, sis."

[monster-effer]

ADHD reader x LaDS headcanons

Summary: My headcanons on how the LaDS men would be with a reader who has ADHD. Content: Sylus x reader, Xavier x reader, Rafayel x reader, Zayne x reader, Caleb x reader (separate), ADHD mention, impulse control issues, money management issues, inattentiveness, forgetfulness, hyperfixations, Caleb being toxic™, a smidgen of angst, fluff, gn!reader, no reader pronouns mentioned (1.4k wc) A/N: These are some headcanons I wrote in response to a request I received on AO3. I included some of the traits mentioned based on personal experience with my loved ones + ones mentioned in the request.

To my ADHD babies: I hope y’all like this ♡

Sylus – impulse control issues + poor money management

You and Sylus have been dating for a few months now, and during that time he’s become well acquainted with a few things:

You are diagnosed with ADHD You are impulsive when it comes to fun purchases You struggle with money management

He has seen how you put yourself into tight financial situations because you cannot resist buying a special edition plushie that just released at midnight.

On multiple occasions you have spent countless hours and your last dollar at the arcade trying to nab a plushie that is smooshed into the corner of the claw machine. Some days you get the plushie you want and other days you don’t. But in either scenario, you end up eating ramen noodles until your next paycheck hits.

Although you have tried to hide this impulsive side of yourself, Sylus doesn’t miss a single thing about you. He has eyes, ears and a crow at his disposal in and outside of the N109 Zone.

He has no interest in trying to “correct” this part of you, instead he tries to help you in his own way.

He gives you his black card so you can impulsively purchase whatever you want, guilt free. And when you refuse to use it, he replaces your payment information with his on each website you frequently use to go shopping.

You eventually notice this and re-enter your information, but Sylus would follow up and replace it with his card information once again. He was relentless, and eventually you gave in.

He also (secretly) became the owner of the arcade you frequent so you get unlimited coins and can hog the claw machine for as long as you like without being disturbed.

He never wants you to fall behind on your bills or have to skip a fun purchase due to the limitations of your bank account. Sylus is filthy rich and has everything he could ever ask for, including you.

Nothing else in this world gives him as much pleasure as fulfilling your desires and he will always strive to do so.

Rafayel – lost in thought/ignore your surroundings

Every time Rafayel meets you in a new timeline, he notices small differences. In one you were a member of the royal family desperate to escape your responsibilities, in another you were an author, and in this one…he’s not quite sure what to make of you yet.

You were noticeably introspective, to the point that you often get lost in your thoughts. Blocking out any and every attempt to get your attention unless he is exceedingly persistent.

At first, this concerned him because he thought you weren’t interested in him. It felt like the ultimate rejection, and it hurt him deeply in way that he could only express in Lemurian.

But as you got to know each other you shared with him that you are diagnosed with ADHD. Which results in your inattentiveness.

Rafayel was relieved to have an explanation for this phenomenon and from that day he forms a new habit in response.

When you two are hanging out at his place, yours or in public he always carries a sketchbook with him. He never misses the opportunity to depict your visage when you are lost in the multitude of thoughts that race through your head.

Luckily for him, your mind wanders frequently when you’re together, and so far he has five sketchbooks filled entirely with your beautiful face. Some of the sketches are unfinished and others are completed with color, it just depends on when you come back to him.

Rafayel is always patient with you and never tries to “fix” you because you are his perfectly imperfect muse.

Caleb – impulsivity, daydreaming, hyperfixations

Caleb knows everything about you, from the various ways ADHD manifests in your daily life, to the fact that thunderstorms scare you.

He has witnessed your impulsiveness firsthand when it comes to jumping headfirst into danger. And although he’s seen it time and time again, it never makes it easy for him to bear. He feels overwhelmingly protective of you, he wants to hold you close and never let go. But he knows that you value your freedom and independence. So, he tries to dampen his controlling tendencies. At least the very obvious ones.

There are times when he has been mid-conversation with you, only for you to stop replying. And when he looks over, he can already tell that you’re lost in your own world. He takes this time to observe you with no repercussions. To really take you in, because you always berate him for his “creepy” staring otherwise.

And for completely selfish reasons he loves the fact that you’re currently hyperfixated on him since he’s returned from the dead. You may try to hide it, but he can tell that you’re absolutely obsessed with him. He thinks it’s sooooo cute how you blow up his phone, want to occupy all of his time when he is in Linkon and how you bombard him with question after question about what he got up to during his time away.

He knows that sometimes your hyperfixations don’t last long. But there are some you’ve held onto since you were kids. He secretly hopes that your hyperfixation on him lasts a lifetime, as wrong as that may be.

Although he feels a little guilty about enjoying it so much, he is in love with you. He wants no one else and it gives him a rush to know that you feel the same, in your own way.

Xavier – forgetfulness + daydreaming

Xavier has traversed time and space to find you again and keep you safe. He cherishes every moment he gets to spend like it was his last.

When he opens up to you, you feel comfortable enough to do the same. During your heart to hearts you share with him that you have ADHD. It affects your memory in a way that is hard to describe, but you settle on the description of “out of sight out a mind.” This combined with your tendency to get lost in your own thoughts has resulted in more than a few mishaps throughout your life.

Once Xavier is aware of this, he makes it his mission to always be by your side, so you don’t forget him. You try to explain that that would be impossible because he is such an important person to you and also your mission partner, but he is stubborn. Because to him, nothing could be worse than you, the light of his life, forgetting that he existed. Even for a brief moment.

When you lose track of time and almost miss an appointment, Xavier is there to teleport you to your destination.

When you almost miss work because you forgot to set your alarm for the 10th time in the past 2 weeks, he is gently nudging you awake.

He does not see your inattentiveness and forgetfulness as character flaws. They are just a part of what makes you uniquely you.

If Xavier has to serve as your personal planner and alarm clock sometimes, he doesn’t mind. Because you are the most important person to him.

Zayne – hyperfixation

Zayne has a sharp memory, so when you two meet again as adults he is already aware that you have ADHD tendencies. Now he sees you have an official diagnosis once he accesses your medical records for the first time.

He has a logical explanation for why you engage in the behaviors that others may find frustrating to deal with, like your almost unbreakable concentration when you are hyperfixated on something.

Your brain lacks dopamine, so you are naturally drawn to stimulating activities, which results in you locking in when a new activity, show, or topic captures your attention.

Zayne would never push medication used to manage ADHD on you, unless you expressed interest in them.

He would actively monitor you when you get into one of those hyper focused moods though. He would periodically bring you water, meals/snacks, snap you out of your trance for stretch breaks and urge you to sleep if you show no signs of winding down for the day.

IMO Zayne would be a very accommodating partner because he knows medically what’s going on and he would never get annoyed with you for chasing what fuels you.

But there is one stipulation, he wants to be by your side to make sure that you are properly caring for yourself. Because your health and wellbeing mean the world to him, as your doctor and your partner.

[cowgirlvi]

mdni, sub bottom!vi, fem top!reader, vaginal sex, strap-on usage, rough sex, filthy

wc; 1,256

thinking about being ex-girlfriends with vi. since the breakup, you’ve heard numerous rumors about her getting around campus, taking girls out on sweet little dates and then fucking them stupid afterwards. it would normally bother you, except you know vi’s pent up, you know she’s not fully satisfied with the sex she’s having, because you know none of these other girls have put in the effort to fuck vi. 

you’ve yet to hear any rumors about these girls stuffing vi’s hole with their cocks, and you know it must be killing her. she’s always had a greedy hole, one that needs constant attention— whether it’s from your tongue, your fingers, or your strap. 

after seeing the types of girls vi has been taking out on dates, you know for a fact that they’re not fucking her— and even if they wanted to, they wouldn’t be able to fuck her right, they wouldn’t be able to fuck her like you do.

so you honestly find this whole situation funny, the way vi is so clearly trying to rub these girls in your face. you’re not falling for her bait, you’re not going to give her a reaction, because there’s nothing to even react to.

which is why you aren’t surprised when vi shows up at your doorstep a week later. her cheeks are flushed and her puppy-dog eyes are round and filled with a mix of conflicting emotions. you almost laugh in her face, but you’re quick to school your emotions.

clearing your throat, you say, “can i help you, vi?”

”i just— i feel bad about the way things ended between us,” vi replies. god, her eyes are so blue, so full of hope and desperation. she longs for you to fuck her, that you’ll finally make the ache go away, the one that’s been tormenting her little pussy.

”mmm, you do?” you tap your manicured nails against your front door, appearing bored and uninterested. “will that be all, vi?” you ask, already beginning to shut your door.

vi is quick to shove her hand against your door with a loud thud, pushing it open and then peering at you with eyes suddenly full of shame. “baby, i— fuck, i miss you, okay?” she finally admits.

you smile. you already knew that.

which explains how vi ended up in your bed, the pink sheets a ruffled mess, her clothes flung across the room, and her muscular frame a trembling mess on your mattress. she’s laying on her back, holding her legs up to her chest, her cute pussy on full display, and your strap is pressed inside her to the hilt.

you can reach so deep inside her in this position, you can hit all the spots that make her shake, that make her cry and scream. not to mention, the view of her cunt swallowing you whole, her fluttering hole drowning your cock in her tangy juices. 

you can see the desperation in every line of her body, the way she’s aching to be used. it’s a sight that would have once filled you with jealousy and possessiveness if anyone else were to see it, but now as you stare down at vi, all you want to do is laugh at her, to coo at how pathetic she looks.

”you missed me, huh?” you say, driving your hips forward with a rough thrust. “that’s funny, baby. i heard you’ve been keeping pretty busy.”

vi goes crosseyed when you slam against her cunt, a strangled moan escaping her pouty lips. “mmffuck!”

you run a finger along vi’s slit while keeping a steady pace with your strap, feeling the slick, warm heat of her arousal. vi shudders at the touch, her hips twitching forward slightly, seeking more contact. you giggle, knowing that no matter how many girls vi brought home, no matter how many times she tried to replace you... nothing could compare to this.

”fuck, baby, your pussy’s a mess. none of those girls knew how to take care of this greedy cunt, did they?”

vi immediately shakes her head, mindlessly moaning. “ahh, only y-you— it’s only ever been you— unhh— i swear!“

you know vi too well, you know her body better than vi knows it herself. you know that vi needs to be stretched, to be filled, to be used hard and fast and without mercy. and judging by the desperate— borderline anguished— look on vi’s face, you were right to assume that none of those other girls could give her what she craved.

vi’s feet bob aimlessly in the air, her legs spread as wide as her flexibility allows her to, and she looks like an easy whore— she looks like the type of dumb slut that would be desperate enough to beg some rando on the street to fill her up.

”poor baby,” you coo down at her. “you just needed me to take care of you all this time.”

”yes, yes, fuck! need you, uuuh—“

you relish in the desperation in vi’s voice. you know you have vi right where you want her, trembling and needy, craving the one thing no one else can give her.

the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by vi’s high, breathy moans and grunts. you know you’re hitting all the right spots, know that you’re fucking vi in a way no one else will ever be able to replicate. she’s stuck with you forever.

"fuck, baby... you're so tight," you groan, your hips never faltering in their relentless rhythm. “your pussy is sucking on me so hard— mmf— can’t get enough, can you?”

her creamy pussy is hugging your strap like a vise and you relish in the way her body spasms around you. you know vi is addicted to this feeling, to the delicious mix of pleasure and pain that only you can give her, to the way you stir up her guts. it’s a high she can’t find anywhere else, a blissful oblivion that vi has been desperately chasing ever since your breakup.

you watch in dark satisfaction as vi’s tough, muscular body goes pliant and soft underneath you, all because she’s filled with cock. vi’s a fucked-out disaster; her abs twitching and flexing, her arms trembling as she tries to hold her legs back for you, her thick thighs quivering.

”ohh— hnnnggff! fuck, fuck, i’m gonna come!” vi sobs, her back arching harshly, her tits bouncing obscenely with every slam of your hips. her voice is raspy and she looks sinful.

you grip vi’s waist hard enough to leave bruises as you piston your hips impossibly faster, her wetness splashing between the two of you. vi’s eyes roll back in her head, her tongue hanging out stupidly as she surrenders to the intense pleasure radiating from her core. 

“come for me, vi. who knows, ah, if i’ll ever wanna fuck you again after this, so you better come right fucking now,” you threaten.

it’s like a flip switches within her because suddenly vi’s body seizes beneath you, as if she has no choice but to obey. she’s squealing and gasping as her body tenses and shakes at the same time, her thighs trying to close around you, but you’re quick to shove her legs back open; you’re determined to wring out every last drop of pleasure.

“mmffagh! holy fuuck— ahhh! yes, yes, please!”

it’s the most devastating orgasm of her life.

[plainclothesdisaster]

Danny opens the door to his apartment to find one Jason Todd on his doormat, knuckles raised as if about to knock, tupperware in hand. Surprise surprise.

“Uh,” Jason lowers his hand. Maybe Danny should have let him actually knock- better to keep up appearances, like he couldn’t sense Jason anytime they’re within a three block radius of each other. But he’s tired- so goddamn tired- of this whole charade.

“What’s on the menu today?” He levels Jason with a look.

“Soup. Lentils. It’s, uh, high protein. Very healthy.”

Danny shouldn’t find Jason’s floundering so cute, knowing what he knows. But seeing as he didn’t ask for this (in fact, he explicitly asked for /not/ this), he thinks he’s allowed a little fun.

“Healthy, huh?”

Jason nods, and presents the container for him to take. Instead Danny swings the door wider.

“You might as well come in.”

//

Jason sits at the modest kitchen table as Danny sets a mug of warmed soup in front of him, then takes his own seat, another mug in hand.

He hasn’t actually been inside Danny’s apartment before, he’d always just left the meals outside his door. Bruce had been coy about sharing details on his top Watchtower engineer, but the breadcrumbs from the case files told enough of the story: Danny was just a kid barely out of college with a large dose of trauma and way too much responsibility. Bruce had also been clear on one thing: Danny didn’t want help.

That just meant Jason would have to get creative with how he helped him.

But now that he’s actually here, face to face with his most recent pet project, he’s not quite sure what to do. Danny just watches him, completely unmoving, except for his eyes that watch as Jason lifts an awkward spoonful of soup.

“So did Bruce put you up to this?”

Jason sputters over his spoon. “Bruce? Don’t know who you’re talking about. I just saw a neighbor in need, and I cook a lot anyway, so-“

“Sure. And you just happen to deliver only on days I’m not scheduled to be off planet? You’re not slick.”

Jason swallows. He sure does know Danny’s schedule and he sure doesn’t have a good excuse. Danny sighs.

“It’s okay. The food’s good. I’m just trying to figure out, well, why?”

“It was um, implied that Batman’s favorite Watchtower tech could use a home cooked meal or two.”

“He never knows when to leave it alone, huh.”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Then why you? Unless—ah. He must have made the connection to your whole… situation.”

“My what?”

“Okay. Um. So, you do know you died, right?”

Jason chokes on soup. Again.

“Is that a yes…?”

“Yeah,” he croaks, “Yeah I just— How the hell do you know?”

“Ah. Well. That’s a bit of a long story.”

Danny gives him a strained smile and Jason takes a measured breath, not trying very hard to mask his disappointment. He wants to ask for more- desperately- but he shouldn’t. He’s supposed to be helping Danny, not the other way around.

Then Danny takes a spoonful of soup. He leans back in his chair the moment he tastes it. “Goddammit that’s good.”

Jason flushes with pride before Danny pins him with a look that chills him to his toes. His heart races, and he feels for a moment like he’s a bug under a microscope, and he’s not so sure he hates it.

Yet it’s Danny’s crooked smile that follows that makes his heart race even faster.

“Okay. How much time do you have?”

DPxDC Mechanical Engineer Danny

Danny caught the attention of Batman while studying at Gotham University for his alternative energy projects. He’s hired right out of college to work on the Watchtower.

He shows absolutely no tell of his abilities till there’s a dire situation- Flash’s electric discharge messes with one of his projects in progress and the whole base would have lost air pressure if he hadn’t done a quick fix using telekinesis and ice.

Of course Batman notices.

Batman assumes the worst- he suspects Danny’s a rogue of some kind, someone who has infiltrated the Justice League with an ulterior motive. But he can’t just fire Danny now- he’s the only one who knows how the new Watchtower energy source works. Plus, he’s not letting Danny go anywhere until he’s figured out his true motives.

Cue Batman subtly testing Danny- tossing things at him to trigger inhuman fast reflexes, having him lift too-heavy machinery, setting up convenient opportunities to steal or snoop or otherwise be up to no good. Danny does take advantage but only once, to use a computer terminal with unlocked clearance. He didn’t plant any bugs that Barman could find, and he otherwise kept up his powerless civilian act perfectly.

Still, Batman’s not satisfied. He brings an infrasonic sound emitter to Danny’s lab one day, and that, of all things, is what gets Danny to break.

“I know what you’re doing,” Danny admits with a sigh, finally. “If you’re really that suspicious of me, I can leave, but I kinda like my job so I’d prefer not to. The benefits are insane compared to what’s standard.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure. yeah. How about you turn off the freaking noise generator and we can talk?”

“Hm.” Batman obliges, and he takes the stool next to Danny at his gesture.

“Number one, I’m not a meta. Despite all the data and conclusions you’ve probably drawn otherwise. Number two, I’m on your side. I’m here to work on the base, that’s it. I follow your rules to the letter.”

“The-“

“The classified files I looked at? Yeah that was the one exception. You already know what I looked at, I’m sure, but maybe you haven’t figured out why. It goes back to point one- I may not be a meta, but I am something that organization, the GIW, cares about. I looked at your files on them to sus out your relations. Seeing as I don’t particularly love being the victim to twelve degrees of human rights violations if I can avoid it.”

“Hm.” The Ghost Intelligence Ward was one of many government agencies that the Justice League hadn’t worked closely with. But they also hadn’t been flagged for Justice League investigation. Danny’s comments made him doubt that call.

“Any other questions?”

“If you’re not a meta, what are you?”

“I’m an engineer. A pretty decent one. And I’d really, really like it to stay that way.”

Batman considers, and ultimately lets him stay. He likes Danny (everyone likes Danny), and it would be a massive pain in the ass to replace him. He really is a good engineer.

It’s only much later that his faith in Danny is repaid in spades.

Batman finds Danny on the Watchtower command bridge. Alarms are blaring, the station has been knocked out of orbit, out the window there’s shrapnel floating everywhere as a space battle rages around them.

On the station it’s chaos. Technicians run around, shouts from the med bay, sparks from the walls.

Batman and Danny stand at the main controls, watching the battle outside, stoic, unmoving.

Wonder Woman’s harried voice crackles through on coms: “We need backup.”

“There is no more backup.” Batman replies, while looking pointedly at Danny.

“What?”

Batman doesn’t move.

“What.”

“The impact from Darkseid’s initial attack should have sent this station on a terminal trajectory toward the planet.”

“Well. We aren’t currently plummeting to our deaths, so turns out it didn’t do that.”

“You did something.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re lying.”

“Maybe Superman nudged us back on course in all the chaos.”

“I’ve been watching the trackers. No one else with the capability has come near the station.”

“Can’t you just be grateful we got lucky?”

Sounds of peril screech over the coms. Danny’s face scrunches.

“Luck had nothing to do with it. As it is now, we are going to lose this fight.”

“Isn’t there anyone else you can call?”

“I’m asking you. You can help, can’t you?”

The glare-off lasts a long moment more before Danny breaks.

“Fuck. Fuckity fuck.” Danny runs his hands through his hair. “Shit. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I’m asking you to save this and countless other worlds from a genocide. I’m also asking you to save my friends.”

Danny looks at him, hard, weary, and with a kind of deep resolve that feels far too ancient to be on the face of a supposed twenty-something.

“Fine. Fine. Okay.” He steps back and transforms. If Batman is surprised when he shakes off his human appearance like an old coat, he doesn’t show it. But what’s undeniable is the being in Danny’s place has the unmistakable presence of power.

“No one else can know.” His voice echoes in a way that’s sonically impossible, both sounding closer and further away than he should be.

He pulls a gear-shaped medallion seemingly out of thin air and puts it over his head in one motion.

“If I get in trouble for this, I’m blaming you.”

He vanishes. Outside, the shape of the battle changes instantly. The stars seem to glow brighter as the arms of the galaxy flash with the colors of the aurora. Then it’s like the void of space itself comes alive. It moves the spaceships back like they’re toys, plucking them from one side of the field to the other. It finds Darkseid at the heart of the chaos and massive arms of nothingness and darkness wrap around him. He’s screaming as it swallows him whole.

His armies scatter. The battle turns. The JL deal with the stragglers, but the air of relief is palpable.

Danny reappears next to Batman, once again donning his grease-stained coveralls. Arms folded.

“Happy?”

It took all of five minutes. Less, probably. Batman tamps down a thousand questions.

“Thank you.”

“I’m gonna need two weeks off minimum.” Danny snaps. “One to deal with the bureaucratic nightmare you’ve just caused me, and another to recover from the headache.”

Batman blanks. “Granted.”

Danny sighs. “And I’m not fixing the station until I’m back. It won’t fall out of the sky as is. Make up whatever excuse you want.”

“Done.” He considers. “I would prefer to tell them the truth. That you saved us.”

Danny glares. “I’m not supposed to save you. I made a pact not to use my power to influence the mortal realm.”

“A pact with who?”

Danny rolls his eyes. “The embodiment of Time. The concept of Justice. Among others.” He smirks at Batman’s confusion.

“And what, exactly, does that make you?”

He stands, framed by the space window, haloed by the stars. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

Batman frowns.

“Look. I like you guys. I like working on your base. I like supporting the work you do. But you can not go factoring me in to any of your plans or contingencies. This was a one time thing.

“So to answer your question again: I’m an engineer.”

[inkedinshadows]

In the Arms of Dawn

Pairing: Cassian x f!reader

A/N: aaa I'm finally sharing these eheh! Thank you @anarchiii for this request, I loved writing it (and hopefully it's enough to be forgiven for my last fic?🥺) As usual, I yapped lol

Prompts: "Get up. This is not place to die." + "I don't know how to do this without you." + "Don't tempt me." + angst + smut

Warnings: blood, injuries, nightmares, oral (f receiving), p in v

Word count: 2.3k

Cassian lay on the ground, bleeding profusely from a gash in his stomach.

His hands pressed down on the wound, but blood seeped through his fingers and pooled beneath him, staining the dusty ground.

Your own hands were covered in red from trying to help him, but to no avail. You didn't have healing magic and you couldn't even winnow. The battle still raged not too far from where you had managed to drag him, and you had no idea where Rhys, Azriel, or even Mor were. No one was coming to help you save your mate.

“You can't die,” you pleaded, cradling his face between your hands, not caring that you were smearing his cheeks with blood.

His eyes fluttered open, but all that escaped his lips was a groan.

“You can't die,” you repeated. “Cass, please…”

The tears you had been trying to hold back finally spilled over and rolled down your cheeks, but you refused to let that stop you. You would find a way to save him. You had no idea how, but begging and pleading wouldn't get you anywhere.

“You have to leave,” Cassian rasped, his pained gaze meeting your desperate one. His breaths came in sharp pants, but he still forced the words out. “Get somewhere… somewhere safe.”

A flicker of anger sparked in your chest. “Don't start,” you snapped. “I'm not abandoning you.”

“Y/N…” he tried again, but you shook your head before he could say another word.

“No.”

A new determination took hold of you. Cassian wasn't going to die—not on your watch. But you had to be strong for both of you before the situation became even worse.

“Get up,” you ordered, your voice now steady and firm. You wiped away your tears, probably smearing some of his blood on your face, but you didn't care. “This is no place to die. Now get up.”

Cassian blinked once in confusion at your sudden change of approach before attempting to move, pushing himself up on one elbow. It was all he could manage with one hand still pressed tightly to his stomach.

“I… I can't,” he groaned. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, as if that small movement had drained what little strength he had left. “I'm sorry…”

Fine, then. If he couldn't get up on his own, you would carry him back to camp. He was too tall and heavy for you to make it on your own, and it would have been a struggle even without the broken wing dragging behind him, but you'd be damned if you gave up on him.

“Alright,” you breathed. “We'll find another way.”

You studied him—the larger wounds, the smaller ones, the right place to put your hands so you could lift him. In the end, you settled on placing one of his arms around your shoulders and wrapping one of yours around his waist.

“I need you to help me with this, okay?” you urged him. You waited for him to nod before continuing. “On three, we stand up. Can you do that?”

Cassian nodded again, though weakly. “I'll try.”

You counted slowly, giving him time to gather a little more strength, and then you both pushed up with your legs. Cassian let out an agonized scream and you stumbled under his weight, but you held on. Your arm tightened around his waist while your other hand gripped the arm he'd draped around your shoulders.

But you were shorter than him and carrying the full weight of a grown Illyrian warrior all the way back to camp seemed impossible.

“One step at a time,” you decided. “But we have to move fast. You just keep your hand on that wound, alright?”

You had no idea how you kept your voice so steady as you took charge of the situation. Maybe it was desperation pushing you to act—to use your brain instead of simply crying like you wanted to do.

To his credit, Cassian tried. He was struggling, you knew that. Each step drew a pained groan from his throat and his wings dragged through the dirt. Blood still spilled from his stomach like water from a leaking faucet. But you both pushed on.

You didn't make it far.

Cassian's steps faltered after only a few feet. “My love…” he croaked, and then he was slumping forward—so suddenly that you didn't have time to steady him.

He collapsed to the ground with a thud and a whimper. You dropped to your knees beside him, turning him onto his back so you could help him up again.

But his eyes were closed and he was panting. You placed your hands over his, pressing down on the gash. His warm, sticky blood coated your fingers once more.

“Cassian,” you called, somehow managing to not lose control—yet. “Cassian, c'mon, open your eyes.”

His lids fluttered, but they didn't open. He didn't say a word. And as the gravity of the situation sank in, so did the despair.

You couldn't get him back on his feet without his help. And even if you did, the camp was half a mile away. You wouldn't get there in time to make a difference. You probably wouldn't get there at all.

“Open your eyes, Cassian,” you tried again, your voice now carrying a hint of the desperation twisting your gut. “Just open your eyes…”

Nothing. No movement, no response. And then you realized—he had passed out from blood loss.

At least he was still breathing. At least you had that.

But what could you do now?

“Please don't die,” you whispered, tears spilling over once more. You rested your head on his chest to listen to the faint, unsteady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Please, I… I don't know how to do this without you…”

Cassian's voice rang in your head like an echo. “Open your eyes.”

You shook your head, eyes still shut as you held him close. His voice sounded so far away, like he was already slipping away from your grasp. And why was he asking you to open your eyes when he was the one who wouldn't?

Then you heard it again, but this time it was all around you, as if he were whispering in your ear but also shouting from afar.

He was repeating your name. Over and over, like a plea.

And then, two more words.

“Y/N, wake up!”

With a jolt, your eyes snapped open. Cassian hovered over you in the faint morning light, his hands on your shoulders as he tried to shake you awake. A wave of relief washed over his concerned expression when he realized he had finally pulled you from your sleep.

“You're alright, sweetheart,” he reassured you. His thumbs brushed your cheeks and you realized only then that you were crying. “It was just a nightmare.”

You threw your arms around him, pulling him back down next to you. You curled up against his chest and buried your face in the crook of his neck while he wrapped you in his arms. His warmth and familiar scent seeped into your senses, soothing you just a little.

For the past ten days, you hadn't been able to shake the feeling that this was the dream: being here with him, both of you alive and well. It had taken him a whole week to heal and you'd spent the entire time next to his bed. But he had been barely conscious, and the nightmares had come to haunt your sleep. It was always the same memory, over and over again.

As soon as he was back on his feet, Cassian had taken you to the secluded cabin in the woods you'd bought together years ago. But even spending the last few nights snuggled up with him had done little to help—to the point that you didn't need to say a single word for him to know what the nightmare was about.

“I'm right here,” he murmured into your hair. “Az found us in time, remember? I didn't die.”

You could feel his pulse from where your head rested against his neck. You let the steady rhythm of his heartbeat envelop you like a reassuring reminder of the life still thrumming inside him, grounding you in the warmth of his embrace.

Cassian stroked your hair and your back, leaving gentle kisses on the crown of your head and whispering tender words in your ear. He gave you time to sort your thoughts out on your own, but he was still there for you, whatever you needed. Just like he always was.

“I guess I’m still scared sometimes,” you whispered after a few minutes. “That the nightmare is real and that this…” You gestured to your entangled bodies. “This is the dream.”

His hands cupped your cheek, lifting your head from the crook of his neck. His eyes were soft when they met yours.

“This isn’t a dream, sweetheart. It’s real.” He peppered your face with kisses, from your temple to your lips. “And I can prove it to you.”

Despite the small smile his onslaught of kisses brought to your face, you frowned. “How?”

Cassian just smirked, and you had to hold back a laugh as you shook your head. “Don’t tempt me, Cass.”

He looked surprised at your response. Pulling back slightly, he raised his brows. “Wait,” he said, “you would be up for it?”

He had been clearly joking then, if your reply had caught him off guard. But as you thought it over, you wouldn’t say no to some intimate time with him. Cuddling was nice, but maybe this was what you needed to stop the memories from haunting you. Cauldron knew how long it had been since the last time you had slept together.

“As you said,” you replied with a smile, “it’s a good way to prove that this is real. And I also miss it.”

Cassian’s eyes lit up and he pulled you closer. “Then let me prove just how real and alive I am,” he murmured against your lips before claiming them in a deep kiss.

He pushed off the sheets and rolled onto you, caging you between his body and the mattress. His mouth moved to your collarbone and you let it ground you in the present, in this very moment. Your mate was here, kissing you, touching you, slowly pushing your nightgown up.

You lifted your arms to help him take it off and his hands caressed your body as he leaned back to kneel between your legs. You watched him pull off his shirt, but your eyes immediately settled on the new scar on his stomach. You had seen it before, but something twisted in your gut anyway.

Cassian noticed the direction of your gaze and covered it with a broad hand. “Hey,” he said quietly, waiting for you to look up at him before he went on. “Don’t think about it, sweetheart. I promise I’m fine.”

He dipped his head between your parted legs, leaving a trail of kisses on your inner thigh, each one sending a shiver through you. “Just focus on me, okay?”

You nodded, trying to relax more. You knew he was right. He was fine now. Yet clearing your mind was easier said than done.

Until Cassian’s tongue flicked out.

He took his time, pleasuring you with slow, deliberate strokes. His hands caressed up and down your thighs before they settled on your hips, his touch firm yet reverent. The lingering tension in your body melted away with every lick, every brush of his fingers, until quiet moans filled the room and the only thing you could think of was his skilled mouth working you toward release.

But Cassian pulled away too soon.

He crawled back up your body, bracing himself on his elbows at the sides of your head, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. “Have I proven it yet?”

You hummed, brows knitted together as you pretended to think about it. “No, not really,” you answered with a teasing smile. “I think I need more evidence before I make my decision.”

“Do you now?” he countered, his smirk only growing. He shifted slightly, and then you felt him—his cock, hard and ready, pressing against your core. With a shallow thrust, he pushed inside, drawing a little whimper from you. “Is this what you were thinking?”

“Exactly this,” you murmured. You pulled him down for a kiss and when your lips touched, Cassian began to move.

It was slow, as if you were both trying to reconnect with each other. His hands caressed your face, your hair, while yours roamed his back, pulling him close like you never wanted to let go. His wings cast deep shadows across the room, blocking out most of the shy rays of the rising sun, and an ethereal golden light danced across his beautiful features.

If it weren't for the pleasure rising inside you as you moved together, you would have sworn this was just another dream. But now you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that it was real.

“I love you,” you breathed in between kisses.

Cassian pulled back enough to look into your eyes. “I love you too, sweetheart,” he murmured, punctuating his words with a deep thrust.

You moaned, but the sound was swallowed by another kiss. And as Cassian made love to you, you knew the memories would finally remain where they belonged.

Not in the present, waking you in the middle of the night.

But in the past.

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon

1k taglist: @onebadassunicorn @thegoddessofnothingness

[writeriguess]

GUURL What a joy to have you here again. I am very happy to know that you are back to doing something you like and that you do it perfectly anyway. you are amazing, i missed you ╰⁠(⁠*⁠´⁠︶⁠`⁠*⁠)⁠╯

I wanted to request a Bakugou x Reader where he's the bodyguard. maybe something smutty or suggestive with the situation, do what you want with it. (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

author's note: Thank you so much! <3 This scenario is so incredibly hot—I couldn't help but make the smut longer. Katsuki as the reader's bodyguard is just irresistible!

Duty and Desire

The rhythmic clicking of your heels against the marble floors echoed through the grand hallway, each step a reminder of the gilded cage you called life. Tonight’s charity gala was no different from the others—endless forced smiles, hollow conversations, and the subtle undercurrent of danger you’d grown used to.

Trailing behind you was Bakugou Katsuki, his sharp crimson eyes scanning every corner with the intensity of a predator on the hunt. Dressed in a tailored black suit that hugged his broad shoulders and powerful frame, he looked more like someone who belonged at the event than a hired bodyguard. But his scowl—perpetual and deadly—made it clear he wasn’t here to schmooze.

“Will you stop glaring at the walls like they personally offended you?” you teased, glancing back at him with a playful smile.

“Tch. You think this is funny?” he grunted, hands shoved into his pockets. “You’re the one with a damn target on your back. Maybe take it seriously for once.”

You rolled your eyes, but his words carried weight. The threats against you had started small—anonymous emails, cryptic messages slipped under your door—but they’d escalated. Enough for your family to hire Bakugou, a pro-hero known for his explosive temper and unyielding determination, as your personal bodyguard.

Except he didn’t just feel like a bodyguard anymore.

It was in the way his broad shoulders stiffened whenever someone got too close, the way his gaze lingered on you for just a second too long when he thought you weren’t looking. And it was in the way your skin burned whenever his hand brushed yours—brief, accidental, but searing nonetheless.

“Stay close,” he muttered, his voice low and gruff as he stepped forward, placing a firm hand on the small of your back.

The touch was fleeting but deliberate, and it sent a shiver down your spine. You hated how much of an effect he had on you.

“I’m not going to wander off into danger, Katsuki,” you said, turning your head to glance at him.

He arched a brow, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “Yeah, well, I’ve seen the way you get when you’re bored. Don’t make my job harder than it already is.”

The night dragged on, the room filled with the kind of people who thought money equaled worth. You navigated the crowd with practiced ease, playing your part as the dutiful representative of your family. But no matter how many times you smiled or shook hands, you were always aware of Bakugou’s presence—his crimson gaze never leaving you.

Every time someone stepped too close, his hand would brush your arm, your back, your waist, guiding you away with a touch that was equal parts protective and possessive.

“You’re hovering,” you said at one point, turning to face him.

“Yeah, that’s kinda the job, princess,” he shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

The nickname sent a jolt through you, as it always did. It wasn’t affectionate—not really—but there was something about the way he said it that made your stomach flip.

The tension between you simmered beneath the surface, growing harder to ignore with every passing moment. By the time the event wound down, you were desperate for some fresh air.

You slipped away to a secluded balcony, the cool night breeze a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere inside. The distant hum of traffic filled the silence as you leaned against the railing, staring out at the city lights.

But, of course, you weren’t alone for long.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” Bakugou said, his voice cutting through the quiet as he stepped onto the balcony. He shut the door behind him, effectively sealing you both off from the rest of the world.

You turned to face him, leaning back against the railing with a faint smile. “You’re off-duty now, aren’t you?”

“Not until you’re home and locked up safe,” he replied, his hands shoved into his pockets as he approached.

His presence was magnetic, his broad frame and piercing gaze drawing you in despite the simmering annoyance in his tone.

“You don’t have to babysit me, you know,” you said, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

Bakugou scoffed, his lips curving into a smirk. “Yeah? Tell that to the psychos sending you threats.”

The tension between you crackled like static electricity, the unspoken attraction growing harder to ignore. You didn’t know if it was the moonlight catching in his ash-blond hair, the way his suit hugged his muscular frame, or the fact that he was the only person who ever made you feel truly safe—but you couldn’t deny the pull anymore.

“You’re always so serious,” you murmured, your voice dipping into something softer, more intimate.

“And you’re always so damn reckless,” he shot back, stepping closer until there was barely a breath of space between you.

The heat radiating off him was intoxicating, his scent—smoke and spice—clouding your senses. You tilted your head up, your heart pounding in your chest as his crimson eyes bore into yours.

“Maybe I like testing your limits,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bakugou’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching at his sides as he stared down at you. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Don’t I?” you challenged, leaning up just enough to close the remaining distance between you.

For a moment, he didn’t move, his breath mingling with yours as he hovered just out of reach. Then, with a growl of frustration—or maybe surrender—he grabbed your waist and pulled you flush against him, his lips crashing into yours.

The kiss was everything you’d imagined: fierce, demanding, and all-consuming. His hands gripped your hips with enough force to leave bruises, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss, his teeth grazing your bottom lip. You gasped against his mouth, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue past your lips, his kiss turning rougher, more desperate.

“Knew you’d be trouble,” he muttered against your mouth, his voice rough and low as he pressed you back against the railing.

“And yet, here you are,” you shot back, your fingers tangling in his hair as you tugged him closer.

Bakugou growled, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs, lifting you onto the edge of the railing as he stepped between your legs. The cool metal pressed against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat of his hands as they roamed over your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he admitted, his lips trailing down your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there.

“Good,” you breathed, your head falling back as you clung to him. “Because you’re the only one I trust to catch me when I fall.”

His grip tightened, his gaze blazing as he pulled back just enough to look at you. “Damn right I will. But don’t think this changes anything. You’re still a pain in my ass.”

You laughed, leaning forward to press a softer, lingering kiss to his lips. “And you’re still my favorite pain in mine.”

Bakugou’s lips were relentless against your skin, trailing heat down your neck as his hands gripped your thighs firmly, keeping you steady on the edge of the balcony railing. The cool night air did little to temper the fire burning between the two of you, and with every graze of his teeth, every rough kiss, the world outside the balcony seemed to fade further away.

Your hands roamed over his chest, your fingers gripping the lapels of his suit jacket as if anchoring yourself to him. His body felt solid beneath your touch, every muscle tense and coiled with barely restrained energy.

“Katsuki,” you breathed, your voice breaking as his mouth found the sensitive spot just below your jaw.

He growled low in his throat at the sound of his name spilling from your lips, the vibration of it sending a shiver through you. His hands slid higher, brushing the fabric of your dress aside to squeeze your hips. The pressure of his grip made your head spin, but it was the sudden shift of his body against yours that truly sent your pulse skyrocketing.

You gasped as your thighs brushed against his hips, feeling the unmistakable hardness pressing against you through the thin fabric of your dress.

“Fuck,” you whispered, your eyes widening slightly as you looked up at him.

Bakugou froze for a moment, his crimson eyes locking onto yours as if daring you to say something. His lips curled into a smirk—cocky, almost predatory—as he leaned in closer, his voice a low growl in your ear.

“You feel that, princess?” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “That’s what you do to me.”

The roughness in his voice made your stomach flip, your hands tightening their grip on his jacket as your thighs instinctively pressed together. But he wasn’t about to let you retreat. His hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you flush against him so you could feel every inch of his arousal pressing against you.

“Shit,” you breathed, your cheeks flushing as a wave of heat pooled low in your belly.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your ear. “That’s what I thought. You’ve been teasing me all night, haven’t you?”

You swallowed hard, your mind racing as he pressed his hips against you again, his movements deliberate and slow. The friction was maddening, and the smirk on his face told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you shot back, though your voice came out shakier than you intended.

Bakugou chuckled darkly, his hands sliding down to grip the backs of your thighs. “Flatter myself? Tch, you’re the one squirming.”

“I’m not—” you started, but your words cut off in a gasp as he rolled his hips against yours, the hardness of him pressing perfectly between your legs.

“Not what? Huh?” he taunted, his tone rough and teasing as his lips found yours again, cutting off whatever weak protest you were about to make.

The kiss was dizzying, his tongue sliding against yours with a mix of dominance and desperation. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your body arching into him as the heat between you became unbearable.

“Admit it,” he muttered against your lips, his voice dripping with arrogance. “You like this. You like driving me crazy.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your lips curving into a smirk of your own as you leaned in to nip at his bottom lip. “Maybe I do.”

Bakugou growled, his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to leave bruises as he pulled you even closer. “You’re such a fucking tease.”

“And you love it,” you countered, your breath hitching as he pressed himself against you again, the hardness of him making you dizzy with want.

“Maybe I do,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as his lips trailed down your neck.

Bakugou's lips were back on yours, searing and demanding, as his hands slid down to grip the backs of your thighs. He pulled you closer to the edge of the railing, locking you in place as his hips pressed firmly against yours. The hardness straining against his pants was impossible to ignore, especially as he shifted his hips deliberately, dragging against you in slow, maddening strokes.

“Katsuki,” you gasped, your voice breaking as the friction sent a jolt of heat straight to your core.

He didn’t respond with words—he didn’t need to. Instead, he growled low in his throat, his hands sliding to the underside of your thighs and hoisting you up higher so you were completely at his mercy. The cool night air hit your legs as the fabric of your dress bunched up around your hips, but the heat of his body pressed against you made you forget the chill.

“Fucking soaked already,” he muttered, his voice rough as his crimson eyes dropped to where your bodies met.

You flushed at his words, your breath hitching as you felt his hips press against you again, harder this time. The thin fabric of your panties did nothing to stop the steady, delicious pressure of him rubbing against you, and you bit your lip to stifle the whimper threatening to escape.

“You like this, don’t you?” he asked, his tone dripping with arrogance as he rocked his hips against yours, slow and deliberate. The hardness of him pressed perfectly against your damp center, and the friction had your head spinning.

You clung to his shoulders, your fingers digging into the fabric of his suit jacket as your body moved instinctively to meet his. “Shut up,” you whispered, though the way your thighs tightened around him betrayed you.

Bakugou smirked, leaning in to nip at your ear. “Don’t tell me to shut up when you’re grinding on me like this,” he growled, his voice rough and teasing as he thrust against you again, dragging a gasp from your lips.

The movement sent a wave of pleasure through you, the friction just enough to make you ache for more. Your panties were soaked, clinging to your skin as he continued to press against you, his pace growing rougher, more desperate.

“Katsuki,” you whimpered, your head falling back as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“Say my name like that again,” he muttered, his breath hot against your skin.

You obliged, your voice breaking on his name as he ground his hips against yours, the rhythm almost punishing now. Every movement sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your body arching into his as the heat pooled low in your belly.

“Fuck, you’re driving me crazy,” he admitted, his grip on your thighs tightening as he held you steady, his movements growing more erratic.

“You’re the one who started it,” you shot back, though your voice was shaky, barely a whisper as your nails raked down his back.

Bakugou chuckled darkly, his teeth grazing your neck as he thrust against you again, harder this time. “Yeah, but you’re the one who’s gonna finish it.”

The tension between you was unbearable, the heat and friction building to a crescendo as his movements grew rougher, more desperate. You could feel every inch of him through his pants, the hard length of him dragging perfectly against your damp panties, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“Tell me you want this,” he demanded, his voice low and commanding as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze.

Your breath caught in your throat, your body trembling as you stared up at him. “I—”

“Say it,” he growled, his hips pressing firmly against yours, dragging another gasp from your lips.

“I want it,” you finally whispered, your voice breaking as the words tumbled out.

Bakugou’s eyes darkened, a triumphant smirk curling across his lips as he leaned in to capture your mouth in another searing kiss. “Good,” he muttered against your lips, his movements growing even rougher as he ground against you with enough force to make your legs shake.

The world around you disappeared entirely, leaving only the two of you tangled in a haze of heat and desire, the line between duty and desire long since obliterated.

Bakugou’s movements stilled for a moment, and you felt him pull back just slightly, his forehead pressed against yours. His breath was hot and ragged as his hands slid down to grip your thighs again, his thumbs brushing dangerously close to the edge of your panties.

“You’re killing me,” he muttered, his voice low and rough as he glanced down at where your bodies were pressed together.

You swallowed hard, your breath catching as his fingers hooked around the damp fabric of your panties, tugging it to the side with a deliberate slowness that made your pulse race.

“Katsuki—” you started, but your words dissolved into a sharp gasp as his fingers brushed against your bare skin, grazing your slick folds.

“Shut up,” he growled, his eyes dark with hunger as he leaned in to capture your lips in another bruising kiss.

His free hand moved to his belt, and the sound of the buckle clicking open sent a shiver down your spine. You felt the warmth of his hand as he freed himself, the hard length of him brushing against your thigh.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his voice dripping with arrogance as he shifted his hips, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance. “Already soaked, begging for it. You really are a tease.”

Your hands gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you tried to steady yourself. “If I’m such a tease, then what does that make you?” you shot back, though your voice was shaky, breathless.

Bakugou smirked, his lips brushing against yours as he pushed forward just enough for you to feel the pressure of him pressing against you, not quite entering yet. “A guy who’s about to give you exactly what you’ve been asking for.”

The heat between you was unbearable, the tension snapping as he finally rolled his hips forward, pushing into you slowly, inch by inch. Your breath hitched, your head falling back as he filled you, the stretch of him making your thighs tremble.

“Fuck,” he growled, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself fully inside you. “So fucking tight.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging hard enough to draw a low groan from him as you arched into him. “Katsuki,” you whimpered, your voice breaking on his name as he pulled back slightly before thrusting into you again, harder this time.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his voice rough as his movements grew more deliberate, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

“Katsuki,” you repeated, your voice trembling as your body moved in rhythm with his.

“That’s right,” he muttered, his lips finding your neck as he bit down gently, his teeth grazing your skin. “You’re mine tonight.”

The world around you faded away entirely, leaving only the heat of his body against yours, the sound of your ragged breaths mingling in the cool night air. Every thrust, every whispered growl of your name, pushed you closer to the edge, and you clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping you grounded.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he muttered, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as his movements became more erratic, more desperate. “I’m not gonna last if you keep squeezing me like that.”

You gasped, your nails raking down his back as the pressure built inside you, your body trembling with the force of it. “I—I’m close,” you managed to whisper, your voice breaking as his thrusts grew harder, faster.

“Then come for me,” he growled, his grip on your hips tightening as he held you steady, driving into you with a relentless pace.

It was all you needed. The tension snapped, and a wave of pleasure crashed over you, your body arching into his as you cried out his name. He wasn’t far behind, his movements growing erratic as he groaned low in his throat, his grip on you almost bruising as he found his own release.

For a moment, the two of you stayed like that, tangled together on the edge of the balcony, your breaths mingling as the cool night air wrapped around you.

“Fuck,” Bakugou muttered, his voice rough as he finally pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “You really are trouble.”

You laughed softly, your fingers brushing against his cheek as you leaned in to kiss him, softer this time. “And you love it.”

His lips curved into a smirk, his crimson eyes glinting with amusement—and something deeper. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice low. “Maybe I do.”

Feel free to request <3

[melercies]

imagine this...

pairing(s): nam-gyu x pinkguard!reader (specifically triangle) x thanos imagine

warning(s): gender-neutral reader(!!), slightly suggestive at the end. Read at your own risk, intended use of lowercase. my best interpretation of these two characters.

author's note: I PULLED UP BOTH OF THEIR WIKIS TO READ AND TRY GET THEIR CHARACTERS FROM THEIR PERSONALITY. i remembered that i had request this as an anon towards someone's blog (specifically midnite-c6; heavily inspired by their incredible writing), and figured to emphasize it with some ideas of my own. i'm grateful for them for writing it. I did give a subtle background for the reader too. :) Please let me know if I missed anything. Likes, Reblogs and Comments are highly appreciated!

you were simply just like any other ordinary pink guard, managing, upkeeping, and enforcing the rules of this horrendous game under the order of the Front Man. since you were given the opportunity to work as a soldier in the games due to the hopeless situation you were in before becoming a pink solider. desperate times calls for desperate measures you suppose.

all you had to do was follow the rules; never remove your masks to reveal your identity, no questioning of any command given or initiate any friendships to gain any forms of attachment. just eliminate players and make sure none of the contestants broke any of the game's guidelines. simple enough, right?

wrong. there were two particular contestants that had caught your attention. you shouldn't have been intrigued by them, you mentally scolded yourself. but it was hard not to be. they were literally acting as if these death games were the same as a children's playground. it was absurd. but it was amusing...to say the least.

after watching the purple-haired contestant who seems to go by the name, thanos, who was skipping around, killing players and having the time of his life in red light, green light along with nam-gyu following around, and partaking within the tense conflict between player 333, thanos and himself, you've made your choice.

of course, you were cautious and careful about the decisions you've made. you were as subtly as possible, if you were caught, dire consequences were to be delivered your way or, to save the effort and time, kill you.

you've made sure to ensure their safety for now, wanting to keep them alive to draw out the possibilities as to what they could do next to entertain you. even if it meant to kill other contestants unfairly as you kept a sharp eye towards their direction.

you've given them small advantages sneakily here and there, managing to slip by without a singular witness or anyone catching what you were doing. going from preventing conflicts that could get both of them killed to giving them extra food within their meals given in comparison to other players' meals.

of course, it didn't take long til one of them took notice before informing the other. the only question lingering within their minds, why? they knew you were one of the guards who were tasked to eliminate those who lose within the games, so why are you...helping them?

despite the triangular mask you wore to conceal your identity, they plan to find out who you were and confront to you. both keeping a rather particular eye on you. they knew which guard you were, often catching you taking a slight subtle glance towards their direction or they could just sense it, they just fucking knew it was you.

especially when it came to meal times, you would stand there with one hand that held a drink and the other that held the given sustenance (if you could even call it a proper nourishment for the players...) giving each player their limited ration, ignoring their complaints and noises of disbelief until it came to them.

the main dormitory was noisy, filled with the atmosphere of weary players who had just endured another brutal round. the smell of the tasteless food wafted through the air, mixing with the lingering fear and tension that never seemed to fade in this place. the players grumbled and complained about their meager rations, their voices filled with frustration, but you, as always, stood motionless behind the food station, handing out the same bland meal to each one of them.

the mask you wore, that stark triangular symbol, was meant to hide everything; your face, your emotions, your identity. to blend in with the other guards, to remain invisible. but it was becoming harder. they were starting to notice you.

as you handed out the meal to the next few contestants, you couldn't help, but feel their eyes on you. nam-gyu's calculating gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary, though he remained silent. thanos, however, was blatant. both of them trying to figure you out despite the appearance you kept up was hard enough to get a read from.

when thanos had appeared next in line, you could feel the tension between you, thick and almost palpable. thanos was grinning, his usual cocky self, but this time there was something behind that grin, something more calculated in the way he sized you up. nam-gyu stood behind him, calm as ever, but you could see the flicker of something behind his eyes. an awareness that wasn't there before.

you moved to hand thanos his ration, a carton of milk and bread wrapped in plastic. you handed it to him with your usual blank expression, but before you could pull your hand away, you subtly slide an extra piece of bread, quickly and barely for anyone to notice.

thanos didn't flinch, didn't make any overt sign that he saw it. he simply took the rations with a slow, deliberate motion, his eyes not leaving you for a second. he stared at the food in his hands, looking back at you with a sly, knowing smile before turning around and heading back to his bunk. nam-gyu, on the other hand, stepped forward, an undeniable intensity within his eyes. he knew. they both knew. the question now was what they'd do with this knowledge.

without saying another word, you turned and moved to hand nam-gyu his rations, finding your own heart racing, but maintained the same calm demeanor as you slipped an extra piece of bread. just the same thing you've done for thanos, feeling nam-gyu's gaze on your form, sharper than ever.

his fingers had brushed against yours for moment, and you felt a brief shiver at the subtle touch before he politely thanked you. he took his rations and headed where thanos was sitting. you knew that thanos and nam-gyu would be conversing upon it, no one noticing that they were getting these advantages when the other contestants were too busy conversing upon what could possibly be ahead for them or the food in front of them.

you handed out the last of the rations with a quick, controlled motion, ignoring the lingering eyes of thanos and nam-gyu. "enjoy your meal," you stated, your voice cool, almost disinterested. then, without another word, you turned and moved away, the weight of their scrutiny following you.

it was risky. you knew it was, and yet, you still continued on. both of them were still alive. because of you.

there was at one point, where thanos had tried offering you the small pills inside his cross necklace which you were questioning as to how it managed to get within the game itself with no detection. which you declined, shaking your head while nam-gyu was poking your body, and touching your mask. you didn't know if he was doing this out of curiosity or simply for his own enjoyment, but each touch caused you to flinch and when he was about to pull your mask off, you didn't hesistate to lift your gun and point it directly at him as a warning. obviously, they backed off from that, not wanting to get killed.

questions would tend to spur towards you between both of them, but you never answered a singular question of theirs. and it certainly didn't take long til a confrontation occured during your shift of covering the bathrooms, making sure no one is causing trouble. one of your shifts would be where things would certainly take a turn for you.

the dimly lit corridor of the bathroom hallway felt strangely still, a quiet echo of the chaos that always surrounded the players. you stood with you back pressed against the cold wall, your triangular mask in place, you eyes scanning the hallway within an unblinking focus. the task was simple, stand guard, make sure no players caused trouble, and ensure no one broke the rules. as long as you kept your distance, it was easy to blend in.

but tonight was different. the air felt charged, a tense electricity crackling around you as you stood. you had a feeling something was coming, and when thanos and nam-gyu appeared, you knew the storm was finally here.

thanos strutted toward the bathroom door with his usual carefree swagger, his purple hair messy and wild. but his eyes, those sharp, calculating eyes, flicked toward you for a split second, and you could feel the weight of his gaze. he had already started to sense something.

behind him, nam-gyu walked more slowly, his posture calm, but there was a sharpness in his steps. he had always been more observant, and it didn't take long for his eyes to lock on you as well. you did your best to keep still, not giving anything away, but they were too good. they knew.

"you," thanos's voice broke the silence, teasing but with an edge of something darker. he stopped in front of you, his lips curling into a smirk as he looked you over, then glanced to nam-gyu. "i knew it was you. always watching, always giving us just enough. don't think i didn't notice, guard."

"you've been helping us," nam-gyu said, his voice low, almost cold. "extra food, extra attention...you're not just doing your job. you're playing a different game, hmm?"

thanos's grin widened, sensing the opportunity. he leaned in, close enough that his breath fanned against your triangular mask. the one thing that separated both you and him, and you somehow found yourself gripping the firearm in your hands tighter. "what's your angle, guard? what are you getting out of this? you've been pretty... generous to us, haven't you?" his voice dripped with amusement, but there was something more dangerous in the way he spoke now.

you stood there, frozen for a moment, your heart pounding under the mask. you have been careful. you have bee subtle. but here you were, both of them were standing in front of you, catching onto your quiet acts of defiance. the games weren't just about survival for them; they were about control, about manipulation and right now, they were flipping that dynamic onto you.

before you could respond or move away, thanos's hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a sudden force that left no room for protest. "you're not going anywhere," he said, his voice low and insistent, a playful glint in his eyes as he pulled you towards a door that lead to the men's bathroom. "we've got some questions for you, guard." nam-gyu didn't need to speak; the message was clear. you weren't going to get away without giving proper answers.

the door to the men's bathroom slammed shut behind you as thanos pushed you inside, dragging you further into the dimly lit room. it was empty; just you, thanos, and nam-gyu.

thanos leaned in, his breath hot against your mask as he whispered, "you thought you could sneak by, didn't you? you thought you could just help us without anyone noticing." he took a step back, his grin growing wider, more dangerous.

nam-gyu moved closer, his movements deliberate, but a quiet power was evident in his eyes that sent a shiver through you. "you've been careful, but not careful enough," he said, his voice mockingly soft yet piercing. "we know what you've been doing. and now you're doing to explain it to us, right?"

you took a slow step back, but thanos was faster, his hand shooting out to block your retreat. his fingers brushed against you as he leaned in once more. "you've been playing both sides, haven't you? helping us, getting close. do you like it? do you like being close to us?"

the tension between the three of you was thick, the silence hanging in the air, broken only by your steady breaths underneath the mask. you had never been this close to them before, and now the weight of their scruntiny was more suffocating than you had anticipated.

thanos stepped forward, his face inches from yours, his smirk never wavering. it almost felt he and nam-gyu could see through your mask. "you're not so good at hiding, are you? i can feel it. you want something more from us, don't you?" his voice was suddenly soft, almost teasing though, as if he were savoring the moment. "maybe you just want to be seen."

nam-gyu didn't speak immediately as you felt nam-gyu suddenly holding onto your mask, almost as if he was about to lift it and reveal your identity towards them. his other hand holding onto your shoulder in a grip, rubbing it slightly. you didn't stop him, remaining completely still. "you're playing a dangerous game, y'know?" nam-gyu murmured close.

the words hung in the air, thick with tension, and just as you thought they might let you go, thanos leaned in, a final whisper of threat in his voice. "i think you like this. being caught. being trapped between us." his hand grazed your arm as he spoke, his grip tightening slightly on your wrist.

nam-gyu's eyes traced over you, intense and unwavering, his gaze heavy with unspoken meaning. a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he took a step closer. his voice was low, almost a whisper. "you'll figure it out soon enough," he murmured. "what it really means to play with us...and what happens when you finally stop pretending you're not interested." his hand then lifted up your mask.

[elizabethemerald]

Jim had a bad feeling and it only got worse. Obviously getting a call at three in the morning from a distant and estranged relative, desperate for help, would set off his instincts, but the situation only got worse the more he found out.

He and Barbara had left Gotham early the morning after the call from Jazz. His car was modified so Barbara could drive even without her legs, so the two of them took turns so they could keep going. Whenever he was driving, Babs had her computer on her lap and was typing away with an increasingly severe frown marring her face. When she took her turn driving he would use his own resources, calling in favors from the few honest cops in GPD and from other people around the city.

Everything they found just made the feeling in his gut worse and worse.

Obviously Jim had made some bad assumptions during the call and Danny was not necessarily in danger because he was trans, but he was still in danger. Jim's contacts ran into red tape as a powerful government organization blocked any attempts at investigating through above board means. Barbara's searches only managed to get a little more of the picture before she too was shut down, but rumors of a government lock down, of attacks from some extra planar threat, of the whole city getting sucked into a different dimension. This was all over his pay grade, but someone there had asked for his help, and he was going to give it.

He pulled to a stop just a few miles away from where his GPS showed only a blacked out square. He didn't know what he was about to drive into, but he had been raised in Gotham and he knew to follow his gut. Barbara looked at him curiously as he pulled off to the side of the road and unbuckled his seat belt.

"Get in contact with your cousin. Tell her to pack a bag for herself and Danny. We're not going to be stayer than it takes."

Then he stepped out and dialed a number he had memorized, but only used when things were the most dire. As always it rang twice before the other line picked up, and as always there was no response.

"Batman, this is Jim Gordon. The Justice League is needed in Amity Park, Illinois. I don't know what exactly is happening, but it goes against every moral in my body. I'm going to be extracting a pair of at risk teens. If I don't call again in a couple of hours send in the cavalry."

There was a couple of seconds of silence before Batman responded in his usual growling voice, "Understood."

Jim hung up and got back in the car just as Barbara was putting her own phone back in her pocket. He buckled up, and gripped the steering wheel, like he could choke the life out of it before stepping on the gas.

The two of them approached the city limits, the GPS blaring at them to turn around before Barbara reached over and shut it off. Just outside they saw the unmistakable sign of a government blockade. But Jim had lived through No Man's Land in Gotham. He knew how to deal with a blockade. His old car was a rough monstrosity compared to most of the world, but it was designed to survive in Gotham and modified without his consent by his caped allies. They blasted through the blockade with his middle finger pressed to the his window as he passed the government goons all in white.

They honked and shouted and green energy weapons flashed behind them, but Jim was already hurtling down the road into Amity. He grimaced as the air seemed to take on a green haze so even the sun seemed dim. He reached over to the glove box and opened it.

"Put your mask on." He ordered Barbara even as he pulled his own out from the central console. He put his on without stopping, years of dealing with the Joker and Scarecrow coming in handy as he drove with his knee on the wheel while he secured the mask.

Barbara had her own mask on and a map in her hand as she gave him instructions on how to navigate the city. Jim couldn't help that Amity looked almost worse than Gotham had during No Man's Land. The streets were torn up and covered in craters. The buildings were boarded up, or half bulldozed like the city had seen a fight between Superman and a dozen aliens. The few civilians walked scared, with their heads down, and hurried from place to place. Concernedly they did not have any masks, but Jim wasn't going to trust Barbara's health just because others didn't see the risk.

His tires squealed as he turned the final corner. He could clearly see the monstrosity that his wife's brother and his wife had built on top of their house. He could only imagine what exactly they had gotten up to in that thing. He stopped his car in front of the house and was out, marching up to the door with the engine still running almost before Barbara had finished bracing from the sudden stop.

He pounded his fist against the door for a few minutes. He stepped back ready to kick the door down when it was opened from the inside. He could see the orange hair, and a wide panicked eye of his niece through the crack of the door.

"Jazz, let's go, its time to leave. Where's your brother? Where's your parents?" Jim was tempted to stay around and let his brother and sister in law have a few choice words, but right now he needed to get the kids to safety.

"Who- Wait, Uncle Jim?" She opened the door a little more, naked relief showing through the signs of terror on her face.

"Yes. I told you I would come for you, didn't I?" He said.

Jazz stepped back, her shoulders shaking, though no tears showed. She opened the door fully and turned away.

"Danny is leading our parents away. I'll call him while I grab our bags." She turned away and ran back into the house, putting in a strange ear piece as she climbed the stairs.

Jim looked around the living room, his concern growing for these kids with each glance. There were weapons, whole and in pieces on every bit of furniture. There were puddles and stains of some strange green fluid all over the floor, and some was actively dripping from a leak on the ceiling. The refrigerator shook and wobbled like there was something alive inside that was actively trying to escape. He wanted to stay to take pictures for evidence, but he would just have to trust that Batman had taken his warning seriously and would take over.

Jazz came clattering down the stairs a few minutes later, duffel bags over each shoulder, a bag in her hand, and a pack on her back. Jim reached for his gun as the backdoor slid open, but hid the motion when Danny stumbled in, clutching a bleeding wound on his side.

"Jazz, wha-" He looked in concern at Jim, especially with his gas mask, but neither of them were giving the boy a moment to process.

Jim took a handful of Jazz's bags while she grabbed her brother and pushed him out the door. Jazz shoved Danny into back seat, and the two of them arranged the bags around Barbara's wheelchair. Jazz looked like she was about to try have them leave her behind for whatever self-sacrificing reason she had come up, but Jim wasn't about to have that and pushed her in next to her brother. She looked at him betrayed for a moment as the child locks prevented either of them from opening the back doors. He didn't care. She could be angry at him later, once they were all out of this city.

By the time he was back in the drivers seat, Barbara had pulled the big first aid kit out from under her seat and was passing it back to Jazz to get Danny taken care of. He pulled away from the curb and raced to the end of the street. He squealed around the corner just as some kind of fucking tank pulled around the corner behind them.

"Are you going to be able to get us out of the city?" Jazz asked, her voice panicked as Danny turned around to watch the tank immediately give chase.

"Please, I'm an officer in Gotham City. This is just a Thursday for us." Jim said without taking his eyes off the road.

Jim Gordon might not have powers, or the training that the Bats have, but he had experience, and his car had been modified a thousand times. He knew it was the weird love language of the Gotham Vigilantes, trying to keep him safe in the hell that was being a good cop in GPD.

He needed every ounce of his decades of experience to navigate Amity and stay ahead of the tank that was taking shots at them whenever they could. He snarled as he caught a glimpse of the Fenton logo on the side. The elder Fentons didn't even care that they were taking out street signs and mailboxes. Jim was sure that if there were any citizens out on the road, they would have been run down by the reckless driving.

Barbara typed away on her computer, while Jazz tried to patch up her brother in the backseat of the moving car. Jim didn't know what his daughter was doing, but knew better than to ask questions. The tank behind them suddenly taking a hard right into a mostly demolished building as she cheered showed she was successful.

"I hacked their steering." Barbara said triumphantly.

"That probably won't hold them long." Danny said.

"It doesn't need to." Jim said, and he let his foot fall harder on the accelerator.

After out driving the Fentons, the government blockade was easy to bypass, and once they were on the open road, Jim really let the lead out and took off pushing 90. He was an officer of the law, the highway was empty and he had two scared and injured kids in the car, plus his daughter. He could be forgiven for breaking a few speeding laws.

A few miles outside of the city the crackle of static from his radio signaled that they were successfully outside the government quarantine. They had made it.

Jazz sobbed in relief, while Danny looked like he couldn't decide between worried and elated. Barbara smiled at him and grabbed his hand where it sat on the wheel, both of them removing their masks. He had his niece and nephew out of the city. The rest was in the Justice League's hands.

Jazz's parents have gotten worse, their passion has turned into an obsession. Her parents don't even know that they are hunting their son every day. Jazz makes a tough call and rings up her uncle-in-law whom she has not had contact with in years.

Commissioner Gordon was not expecting to get a phone call at three in the morning; especially not from an estranged niece that he had seen a handful of times. The last time he seen that side of the family was before his wife had died.

Now he's driving halfway across the country with a confused daughter to meet up with the said estranged family.

[demonic0angel]

one of the trying to be the voice of reason and talking down Danny or Dan to deescalate a situation

Bat's thoughts: just keep calm, you're in the position of authority while in costume

Danny or Dan just rips off shirt: Talk's over, let's throw down

Bat: Oh no he's hot!

(The only person I can imagine doing this is Dan lmao)

Nightwing didn't know whether or not to shamelessly ogle at the abs and pecs he saw or to get down on his knees and beg Wraith to put his shirt back on.

"Well? Didn't you say you wanted to spar?" Wraith snapped.

Nightwing nearly cried.

"Please put a shirt on," he whispered desperately.

"What?" Wraith put his hands on his hips, his eyes narrowed. The glow of his flaming hair made the shine of his skin even more noticeable.

His biceps flexed with his movements and Nightwing blurted out, "Actually, this is fine."

Wraith frowned. "Are we fighting or not?"

"Can I say no? Or let's switch locations... maybe somewhere more—" Nightwing choked on his own saliva, turning red.

Wraith stared at the coughing hero across from him and then slowly looked to the side, where Phantom was standing with his arms crossed and his face set in a dark scowl. He looked as though he was ready to start pummeling him.

"... is this a hero thing that I forgot from the future or is he just weird?" Wraith asked.

".... it's just him," Phantom said, almost a growl as he glared daggers at Nightwing.

Even if Wraith was his least favorite sibling/alternate self/person, like hell he would let some random hero make eyes at him!

[fangirltothefullest]

You know.... tumblr is the only place I've ever felt like people can match my brand of neurodivergence. And I'm not talking about the weird conversations or funny posts either. I just mean in general conversation and interaction.

I've been in a small room with 12 other strangers for this soft skills class I have to take for this program that's helping me get a government job as someone with adhd and I just..... feel like such an alien when I'm in the room with them? They're all different ages and some are even around my age but it's like I'm pretending to be a person for them just as I would be doing around neurotypical people.

I am constantly masking in front of these people that are supposes to be like me.

More than one have adhd like I do but they're so different than me? There's so much unnecessary laughter that feels so forced and fake? All anyone wants to talk about are sports and parties and alcohol and drugs. Its exactly likw it was in every other social situation ive ever been in. "Who last partied and got black out drunk"- "my party days are over but i can still knock back a 12 pack of whatever and function just fine"‐ "last weekend i partied i got too high to remember my name-"

Or who rooted for which sportsball team and why the spoinklers are better than the spronklers. The sprunklies had a great pass but they called it too much for the spranklies and it was all rigged. I would stop watching it but I like mr pitcher-catcher-thrower-frontguy and if he can make it this year he'll win them for the whateverchampioncup for sure.

I feel like an alien studying an entirely different species.

Like is this how people always interact? Is it all fake nonsense or is it code? It feels like it's all in code and I just have no fucking idea what that code is.

Cause like I can tell none of them actually care! I KNOW we are here for a soft skills class but like.... this isn't soft skills this is high school locker room. This is people desperately trying to fit in. Soft skills are keeping things civil and connecting with fellow humans.

This didn't feel like forming connections, it felt like pretending. It felt like showing off. It felt like people vying for their chance to be in the spotlight. It felt like America's next top banana.

We were told not to talk about religion, politics, sports and personal lives at work because all it does is start drama at the workplace. What did they proceed to do? Talk about every single subject on the no-go list the moment we'd agreed not to. Did they think "no" was code for "do this immediately"?

Like is it me? Am I really so confusingly alien that even the people that are supposed to be like me, that also have adhd, are just so different?

And I come here on tumblr and yall get me.

I post about making a PowerPoint about the most fuckable pasta shape and yall are like drop the PowerPoint.

[accidentcache]

going ice skating with Dabi and Hawks and just laughing whenever they fall <3

it's practically the end of winter but I can't get off my mind

okay contrary to popular belief i think touya shows off the he knows how to ice skate. keigo can't and he is like a baby deer on the ice.

and it's so cute, when you brought up the idea touya was actually excited to go. neither could ever really say no to you (keigo's weakness is your pout and touya is always down to go with the flow) and both thought that ice skating was a fun little date idea.

so here the three of you were downtown hosu, touya showing off by skating past keigo backwards with his hands in his pockets while the blonde clings to the walls on unsteady feet. you can't help but cackle at the sight-- you've offered your hand to him multiple times but he refuses it every time. he's determined to 'look cool' in front of you and actually skate, but you only find him endearing and dorkish.

at some point you pull off to the side and throw your legs over the wall and watch the two of them antagonize each other. keigo is trying to defend himself against touya's teasing-- it's not working.

the sight is sweet. touya looks a lot healthier since rehab and getting out of the hospital, and keigo is starting to relax and take care of himself better since taking the role of president of the hpsc. and yeah, they are happy-- you know they are. they've come to terms with their situations and their lives but in this moment, where they only have to worry about gliding (or trying) to move around the ice-- they couldn't have looked more carefree.

the sight of them makes your heart clench. touya's eyes meet yours over the makeshift rink and he grins. you can see the warmth in his eyes, there's a fire in those irises but it burns for a different reason. still hot and scorching, but not nearly as unconstrained as before.

"he looks happy," a voice speaks beside you and you practically jump at the sound of it.

"shouto!" your heart races as your head turns to find the boy standing just off to the side of you, hands clasped behind his back and staring off to the rink where his eldest brother terrorizes your boyfriend. your heart settles slowly, watching his gaze and tracing it until it lands on your two idiots. "what are you doing out in hosu?"

"i help with the rink sometimes," he shrugs halfheartedly. "patrol shift."

you hum in response but don't really say anything. your relationship with the youngest todoroki isn't the strongest, but it's there. since the war both you and touya have been trying to build a relationship with him-- with all of the todoroki siblings.

touya's head lifts and sees his younger brother standing next to you-- he lifts a hand in greeting and shouto returns it. your boyfriend's mouth moves a little to form what you know is a small smile but whether shouto knows that is beyond you. touya looks as if he's going to move to join the two of you but he can't go anywhere with keigo clinging to his arm and desperately trying not to land on his ass.

"you want to go to dinner with us? if your patrol is over any time soon," you're speaking before you can even think about it. but you can see the way shouto watches the two of them, he's moved closer to stand next to you and there's a hint of a fond smile on his lips.

shouto nods a little. if he's shocked at all about the offer his expression doesn't show it. "i'm off in thirty minutes. i'd love to join you guys."

your smile mirrors his. and yeah, touya was a little grumpy about his younger brother crashing date night with you and keigo-- but he enjoyed spending time with his younger brother.

© accidentcache do not repost, translate or alter my work without permission. all rights reserved.

[odinsblog]

@murdererofsucculents

No, he knew. He said so himself in the video.

And simply having a “criminal” record should not automatically mean someone gets deported without any form of due process — especially when Republicans and the Trump administration are the ones who get to decide what the definition of “criminal” is. I mean, c’mon: overdue library books? Unpaid parking tickets? A non-violent offense committed as a juvenile? Legally seeking asylum here in America?? Let’s not forget that the American criminal justice system is HIGHLY racist, and the darkness of someone’s skin gets people harsher sentences for their “crimes,” where white people in similar situations often get little more than a finger wag.

I don’t feel sorry for him. At all. Like, not even a tiny little bit. He is receiving exactly the same cruelty that he wished upon others.

And now he found out. Trump said he has a reason to go.

Womp womp, karma and the leopards are hungry.

There are some truly remarkable people out there who suffer injustice in their lives, and it drives them to want to create a better world where no one else will ever suffer the same injustices … but even as he was being interviewed, it still didn’t seem to occur to him that other people might be unjustly deported because the system is corrupt. All he cared about was himself and his family. But that’s a typical Republican mindset: “nothing matters unless it happens to me personally.”

I reserve my sympathies for the people who risked everything and made dangerous treks here because they were desperate to escape persecution and/or violence; the people being needlessly sent back to fates they thought they had escaped. And I reserve my compassion for the people who didn’t vote for an overt fascist.

And I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that it’s been thoroughly proven that migrants, asylum seekers and undocumented immigrants commit far fewer crimes than American citizens. That racist lie has always been used against non-European immigrants seeking a better life here in the US.

FAFO season gon be funny af. All these fuckers wanna be seen as members of team whiteness sO damn bad, but Trump is about to remind them who Republicans really think of as white. I do not feel sorry for them. At all. They are receiving the fate they wished upon others. My only regret is, good and genuinely innocent people—regardless of their actual citizenship status, in some cases—who did not vote for Trump will also be deported.

[utopiastri]

Put That Guy in a SituationTM - look something about Landoscar in a 20/32 type situation has me hooked….trying to not let others on to their predicament, maybe it’s a bit embarrassing how it happened 🤔

hi anon!!! thank you for the prompt! i went a smidge away from my usual cutesy fluff for this one - your suggestion of embarrassment really sparked something in my brain, even if i took it in a slightly different direction. i hope you enjoy!!!

(prompt list here)

“Look, we just gotta act natural,” Lando says.

Or, well, Lando-as-Oscar says, because it sounds like Oscar’s voice and it’s Oscar’s mouth that’s moving, but it’s Lando that’s actually saying the words and–

Lando-in-Oscar’s-body huffs. “You’re having a crisis again aren’t you?”

“You know it’s weirder of you to be 100% ok with this.”

“It’s a body swap curse, mate, it’s not rocket science.”

Oscar runs a hand through his hair and cringes at the uncanny feeling of there being someone else’s hair on top of his head. “I understand the concept, Lando, what I’m struggling with is everything else related to it like, I don't know, how the fuck this happened."

“I don’t know. Do you reckon we need to have sex to break the curse?”

“What?” Oscar squawks, “Why would we need to have sex to break the curse?”

Lando flushes. “I dunno. Just felt like the right solution.”

“Based on what?”

Lando mumbles something about seeing it online once and Oscar chooses to ask no more follow-up questions lest Lando tells him he learnt about it from some random porn he watched once. He heaves a sigh.

“Listen, like you said, we should just act normal. This whole thing is,” Oscar pauses to search for the right word, “Strange. And I’d really rather not bring anyone else into it to begin with.”

“Agreed,” Lando says before adding, “Hey, if we’re still like this for the race tomorrow and I win but in your body, does that mean you get the points?” Oscar glares at him and Lando pouts. “It’s a genuine question!” he whines.

Oscar’s about to point out they have bigger things to focus on than the effects of this on a race when Jon sticks his head into the room.

“Debrief in five, guys.”

“Sounds good, mate,” Lando says, in an accent no human being has ever used before.

Jon blinks at him. He turns to look at Oscar. Or, rather, he turns to look at Oscar who he thinks is Lando. Oscar smiles weakly.

“He’s, uh, trying to do an impression of me doing an Australian impression," Oscar lies, hoping it sounds vaguely believable.

“Oi!” Lando says, “My Australian accent’s mint.”

“Yes, Oscar,” Oscar says pointedly, “Your Australian accent would be mint because you are from Australia.”

Lando's eyes light up in realisation and he starts nodding furiously. “Right, yep, what he said, exactly.”

Jon blinks at both of them this time. He sighs.

“If you two are doing roleplay, I don’t want to hear about it.” Lando and Oscar both start spluttering, but Jon keeps on talking over both of them. “Just be on time for debrief.”

With Jon gone, Oscar breathes a sigh of relief. Or he starts to, until Lando pipes up.

“I still reckon us having sex will fix it.”

Oscar reminds himself that if he kills Lando right now, he’s possibly going to do irreparable damage to his own body.

The thought’s still tempting.

“Is there a particular reason you’re so desperate to have sex with yourself?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

Lando clearly wasn't expecting that question because he freezes. Oscar’s always hated how easily he flushes but right now, watching it brutally incriminate Lando, he can’t help but be grateful for it.

“I’m not fucking desperate to have sex with myself.” He doesn't sound like he's lying, but the blush on his face suggests he's not telling the whole truth.

Maybe…

His eyebrows raise. “So you’re only desperate to have sex with me then?”

Lando looks up at Oscar, eyes wide. He swallows.

Got you, Oscar thinks to himself.

[moonlitstoriess]

Binding Lies- Eris Vanserra x fem! reader (mini-series) Part 5

Summary: When Y/N, Azriel's secret half-sister who lives far away, and Eris Vanserra form a strategic contractual marriage to further their own agendas, what begins as a carefully crafted arrangement soon becomes more complicated. As they pretend to be a perfect couple, the lines between duty and desire blur, and neither is prepared for the consequences.

See masterlist

Previous part

Warnings: some angst

Smoke filled his lungs, thick and acrid, clogging his throat as he staggered upright. The sounds of battle still raged around him-the clang of steel against steel, the desperate cries of the wounded, the crackling of fire consuming whatever lay in its path. But none of it mattered.

Where is she?

His heart slammed against his ribs as his head whipped around, scanning the chaos. Bodies blurred past him-fleeing civilians, masked attackers, fallen guards.

Somewhere in the madness, he knew Y/N was fighting to get back to him, just as he was fighting to get to her.

Someone lunged at him from the smoke, blade aimed for his throat. Eris sidestepped at the last second, twisting his sword up in a deadly arc. His blade sliced through fabric, through flesh, and the attacker crumpled before him with a strangled gasp. Another came from behind, and Eris spun, bringing his sword down in a merciless strike. He barely felt the resistance as he cut them down.

He could feel the heat of the fires licking at his skin, hear the distant shouts of his soldiers as they fought to regain control of the situation. But his mind was singular in focus.

Find her. Protect her.

Then—a voice.

"Eris!"

His head snapped toward the sound, and through the smoke, he caught a flash of familiar color- Y/N.

His breath punched out of him in sheer relief. But she wasn't running to him-she was fighting. A masked figure was on her, blade slashing toward her ribs. Y/N barely dodged in time, using her smaller size to twist away. Eris saw the rage in her eyes, the determination as she yanked a fallen dagger from the ground and drove it straight into her attacker's side.

Good. Fight, Y/N.

But they were still too far apart. Another attacker lunged for her, and Eris didn't think—he threw his sword. The blade spun through the air, slicing deep into the enemy's chest before they could reach her.

And then, before she could react, he was there, gripping her wrist, pulling her to him.

"We have to go!" he barked, yanking her toward the docks. His grip was iron, his entire being focused on getting her out of here.

But Y/N fought him. She fought him.

She wrenched back, her eyes wild, her free hand shoving against his chest.

"No-Samira!"

Eris barely caught the curse that tore from his lips. He grabbed her again, harder this time, and tried to haul her away, but she dug her heels in, her entire body twisting against his grip.

"Y/N, we don't have time for this!" he snarled, dodging a blade as another attacker stormed toward them. He kicked them back, sending them sprawling, and turned back to her, furious. "We have to go-stop fighting me!"

"No!" she yelled, eyes flashing. "Samira is still out there—I won't leave her!"

Something sharp slammed into his shoulder-an arrow, slicing through the air so close it nearly grazed him. It struck the cobblestone beside them with a thud, and in that split second, Eris made his choice.

He let out a vicious snarl and hauled her into his arms.

Y/N let out a furious yell, thrashing against him, but he didn't care. His arm locked around her waist like iron as he took off toward the docks, his other hand gripping his sword.

Another explosion rocked the city behind them, sending more smoke and fire into the sky. The roar of collapsing structures filled the air, drowning out the screams. More masked figures pursued them, but Eris didn't slow. He wouldn't stop.

He could feel her pounding against his back, cursing at him, but he didn't let her go-not when arrows were slicing through the air around them, not when the ground beneath them trembled with destruction.

He only ran faster, his grip on her tightening as if letting go would mean losing her forever.

Through the smoke and chaos, he finally saw them-his soldiers.

"Cover us!" he barked, and in an instant, the remaining guards closed ranks, forming a protective shield around them as they sprinted up the gangplank onto the ship.

Eris barely made it onto the deck before he shouted, voice raw with urgency,

"Unfurl the sails—we leave now!"

Men scrambled to obey, cutting ropes and loosening sails. The ship began to lurch away from the burning docks, waves crashing against the hull as the sea pulled them forward.

But Y/N-

She was still fighting him.

She twisted out of his grip, her hands shoving at his chest, his arms, anything she could reach. Her face was flushed with anger, with desperation, her eyes burning.

"NO!" she screamed. "Samira-we can't leave her!"

The ship groaned as it lurched forward.

Eris clenched his jaw, his hands still gripping her arms, ready to stop her from doing anything reckless.

And then —

A figure burst onto the dock.

The guard.

Dragging Samira.

"SAMIRA!" Y/N's voice cracked, raw with relief.

The gangplank was nearly gone, the ship moving too fast now. The guard leaped, barely making it as he crashed onto the deck, Samira tumbling beside him.

For a heartbeat, no one moved.

And then-Y/N ran.

She launched herself toward her friend, both of them colliding with a choked cry.

Eris let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His heart was still hammering, his body still braced for battle, but-they made it.

The chaos of the deck swirled around him-soldiers panting, men groaning from wounds, courtiers clutching each other in shock. The city of Tideholt burned behind them, a graveyard of fire and smoke, growing smaller with every passing second.

And Y/N-

She was still clinging to Samira, both clearly shaken with all that happened.

Eris turned away, the weight of everything settling in his chest. His fists clenched at his sides.

What the hell just happened?

The warmth of the tea seeped through Y/N’s fingers, but it did little to chase away the lingering chill in her bones. Even wrapped in dry clothes, sitting on a plush, cushioned chair in the dimly lit sitting room below deck, she still felt like she was trapped in the smoke and chaos of Tideholt. The scent of burning wood and blood still clung to her memory, her ears still ringing with the echoes of clashing steel and panicked screams.

Across from her, Samira sat with her own cup in hand, her expression calculating but steady. Her dark hair, still damp from the frantic escape, framed her sharp features, but there was something guarded in her expression—something calculating. They hadn’t spoken much in the past hour, too busy catching their breath, letting the ship’s gentle rocking ground them after the nightmare they had just survived.

Y/N stared into her tea, watching the ripples disturb the surface as the ship moved. “I still can’t believe it,” she finally said, voice quieter than she intended.

Samira exhaled through her nose, taking a slow sip before setting her cup down on the small wooden table between them. “Believe it,” she muttered. “We almost died back there.”

Y/N flinched at the bluntness, though she knew it was true. They had barely made it out. If that guard had been a second later—if the ship had pulled away just a moment sooner—

She wouldn’t let herself think about that.

Instead, she focused on what had happened before they escaped. “It was so fast,” she murmured, shaking her head. “One second, we were watching that juggler, and the next…”

She trailed off, memories flashing behind her eyes—the masked figures, the screams, the explosion that had thrown them all off balance. The way Eris had grabbed her, refused to let her go, even as she had fought him tooth and nail. She still wasn’t sure if she wanted to thank him or strangle him.

Samira leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “It was too fast.”

Y/N frowned. “What?”

“The attack,” Samira said, tapping her fingers against the rim of her cup. “It happened too quickly. Too precisely.”

Y/N gave a tired shrug. “I mean, it was an ambush, of course it was—”

“No,” Samira cut in, shaking her head. “I mean, it was planned.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the certainty in her tone. “That’s a bit of a stretch, don’t you think?”

Samira’s eyes darkened. “Think about it, Y/N. We get here, we spend hours in Tidehold without incident, and then suddenly—the moment we go to the market, there’s an attack? The moment we’re in the open, where we’re most vulnerable?”

Y/N hesitated. She wanted to argue, wanted to dismiss it as just bad luck—a random attack on a crowded marketplace. But…

Samira wasn’t wrong.

It had been too coordinated—too deliberate. The way the masked figures had emerged all at once, from multiple directions. The way they had moved, cutting through the crowd with calculated precision, not like common bandits but like trained soldiers.

And—

Her stomach twisted.

They had been targeted.

The attackers hadn’t been blindly slaughtering civilians. They had been looking for something—or someone.

Y/N set her cup down, suddenly feeling sick. “You think… we were the reason for the attack?”

Samira gave a slow nod. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”

Y/N swallowed, her mind racing. It was absurd—wasn’t it? They had been careful. Eris had been careful. The route they took hadn’t been publicly known. Their presence in Tideholt wasn’t some widely spread secret. So how—

A cold thought settled in her chest.

“What if…” She hesitated. “What if someone knew we were coming?”

Samira met her gaze, her silence confirmation enough.

Y/N’s breath hitched. “You think we were set up?”

“I think,” Samira said carefully, “that someone wanted us dead.”

The words sat heavy between them.

Y/N clenched her hands into fists, trying to push away the growing unease in her gut. “But why?” she demanded. “Who would even know? Who would go through all that effort to—”

She stopped.

Because she knew the answer.

There were plenty of people who wanted them dead. Plenty of enemies Eris had made, plenty of threats lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

And it had almost worked.

Y/N exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “Eris needs to know.”

Samira raised an eyebrow. “You think he doesn’t?”

That gave her pause.

No—Eris was too smart to not suspect something. He wasn’t the type to overlook a pattern, to brush off an attack like this as mere chance. If she and Samira were sitting here, piecing things together, then he had probably already figured it out.

The question was—

Who was behind it?

And what did they want?

Y/N’s fingers curled around her cup again, the warmth doing little to soothe the unease curling in her stomach. She had a terrible feeling that whatever had happened in Tideholt was only the beginning.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of whispered theories and tense silences, of lingering exhaustion and the weight of uncertainty pressing against Y/N’s chest.

She and Samira stuck together as the ship continued on its course, neither of them eager to be alone with their thoughts. They ate together in the mess hall, speaking in hushed voices as they analyzed every moment of the attack, every strange detail, every possible explanation. It all led back to the same unsettling conclusion—this had not been random.Someone had been waiting for them, watching, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Y/N didn’t want to believe it. She wanted to write it off as a tragic coincidence, an unfortunate event that just happened to align with their visit. But the more she thought about it, the more the timeline didn’t add up. And Eris, wherever he had disappeared to, was certainly thinking the same thing.

She didn’t know why that thought frustrated her so much.

By nightfall, she was exhausted, her body aching from the tension she had been carrying all day. Samira had retired earlier, leaving Y/N to spend some time staring at the waves from the deck, letting the cool air clear her mind. It didn’t help much. Her thoughts were still tangled, still restless.

Eventually, she made her way back to the bedroom she shared with Eris, rolling her shoulders as she reached for the door handle.

She barely took two steps inside before she froze.

The first thing she saw was Eris.

And dear gods.

He was standing near the small washroom, his back half-turned to her, a towel in hand as he ruffled it through his still-damp hair. His usual polished exterior was nowhere to be found—his tunic was nowhere to be found.

Instead, his bare chest was on full display, illuminated by the soft golden glow of the lantern light.

Scarred, muscled, littered with marks that told stories she would never know.

Her throat went dry.

Her thoughts spun wildly, completely untethered, slipping through her fingers before she could even think of reining them in. She didn’t mean to stare, but it was impossible not to, impossible not to trace the faint scars lining his torso, the defined muscles shifting as he moved, the low dip of his pants, haphazardly thrown on after his bath.

And fuck.

She had never seen him like this before.

She had never allowed herself to think about him like this before.

Eris Vanserra was infuriating. Arrogant, cunning, ruthless—but gods, right now? Right now, he looked like a painting, like something carved from fire and stone, all sharp lines and controlled power. And she was standing there gawking at him like an idiot.

Her mind was spiraling further into very dangerous thoughts when his voice cut through it all.

“How generous of you,” he drawled, his tone laced with mockery. “To finally grace us with your presence, Highness.”

Her dirty thoughts crashed and burned, replaced by fury.

She snapped back to reality, scowling as she shut the door behind her—hard. “You seriously can’t be the one talking after you literally disappeared the second we were on board.”

Eris let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head as he reached for his tunic. “I was cleaning up the mess you caused.”

She stiffened. “Excuse me?”

He turned his back to her, pulling the tunic over his head, his broad shoulders shifting as he spoke. “I spent the entire day investigating who the hell orchestrated that attack,” he said coldly, his voice sharp like a blade. “Because you and I both know very well that this wasn’t some random, everyday occurrence. It was planned.”

Y/N saw red.

“You’re blaming me?” she snapped, marching closer, rage surging through her exhaustion. “Are you serious right now?”

Eris turned around so fast she barely had time to react, his amber eyes blazing. “Yeah? What else am I supposed to do?” he shot back. “It was you who begged me to go there, and for once—for fucking once in my life—I decided to be nice. I decided to listen to someone else’s wishes.” His voice rose, bitter and biting. “And look how that turned out.”

Her mouth fell open in utter disbelief. “You’re talking as if I knew this would happen! As if I planned this—”

“You didn’t plan it,” he cut in, stepping closer, his fury radiating off him in waves. “But when it did happen? You fought me. Me. While I was trying to do nothing but get you the hell away from a situation you weren’t even familiar with.”

“I—Samira—”

“I don’t fucking care about Samira.” His voice boomed, echoing off the walls. His chest was rising and falling, his fists clenched, his anger swallowing everything in the room. “I don’t care about anyone but my wife! You were my priority then!”

Y/N let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking her head. “Oh, right! Because I’m just some asset you need in your grand scheme.” She let the words slip from her tongue before she could stop them. “But what would you know? Samira is the only one from Montesere, the only piece of home I have left! The only one who understands me well enough! The only other foreigner—what? You expect me to be alone with all your Autumn Court snakes?”

Eris hissed through his teeth. “Do you truly think I wouldn’t have found a way to bring Samira back?” His voice was deadly, his eyes locked onto hers. “I am Eris fucking Vanserra, Y/N. And you are underestimating me too much.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” she snapped back.

“Congratulate yourself.” His tone was sharp enough to cut. “You proved to me why I should never be kind to anyone.Because no matter what, no matter what shit I do, it’s never enough. People just nag and nag and nag.”

“That someone is me!” she yelled, spitting fire, stepping closer until they were mere inches apart. “Your wife!”

For a moment, he just stared at her, his chest heaving, his lips pressed into a thin line. Then—

He smiled.

Cruelly.

The shift was instant, a mask snapping into place.

“But not a real one, am I right?” His voice dropped to something quieter, something razor-sharp. “You won’t ever be a real wife to me, just like I won’t ever be a real husband to you. That’s the agreement, isn’t it, my dear?”

The words felt like a slap.

Y/N froze.

A thick, suffocating silence stretched between them, heavy with things left unsaid.

Her throat felt tight, her heartbeat roaring in her ears, but she had nothing to say.

She had nothing at all.

Eris held her gaze for another long, unbearable moment—then, without another word, he stepped past her, brushing her shoulder as he walked to the door.

He didn’t look back as he muttered, “Don’t wait for me.”

And then—

He was gone.

Leaving Y/N alone.

With nothing but the silence and the wreckage of their words between them.

Eris had spent the last hour enduring the company of three Autumn courtiers—men of status and influence within his court, though none nearly as powerful as him. Lord Sareth, a shrewd and calculating noble whose wealth came from the iron trade; Lord Varyn, an older, quiet man who had once served as his father’s advisor before shifting his loyalty to Eris; and Lord Edric, younger than the others, ambitious and arrogant, always trying to prove himself.

The air in the dimly lit chamber was thick with tension as they discussed what had happened in Tidehold. The unexpected attack. The enemies who had been waiting as if they had known they were coming.

“There’s only one explanation,” Eris said, his voice flat. “Someone betrayed us. Someone told them we were coming.”

The statement hung in the air like a blade poised to strike.

“It does seem too coincidental,” Sareth mused, stroking his graying beard. “The timing, the precision of their ambush… It’s as if they had been expecting you at that very moment.”

“Then the question remains,” Varyn said, “who was it?”

Edric was the one who spoke next, his words slow, careful. “Forgive me, my prince, but… perhaps the answer is closer than we think.” He hesitated before adding, “It is all because of your wife, Prince Eris. Her insistence to go there in itself seems suspicious.”

The room fell silent.

Eris, who had been leaning back in his chair, suddenly went still. His golden eyes fixed on Edric with a chilling intensity. “What,” he said, voice low, “did you just say?”

Edric swallowed, shifting in his seat. “I mean… Princess Amira—she was the one who kept pressing to go to Tidehold. She—”

Eris straightened, his hands pressing against the polished wood of the table. “Are you suggesting my wife betrayed us?”

“No, of course not, but—”

“Did you just insult my wife?” Eris’s voice dropped to a deadly whisper.

Edric hesitated. “Prince Eris, with all due respect, you must think logically about this. I mean, that bit—”

The second the word left his mouth, Eris struck.

He slammed Edric’s head down against the table, the sound of impact reverberating through the chamber. Edric let out a pained grunt, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps as Eris kept his hand pressed against the back of his skull.

Varyn and Sareth immediately shot to their feet, their chairs scraping against the floor.

“Prince Eris—”

Eris ignored them. He leaned down, his lips barely an inch from Edric’s ear, and said in a voice so soft it was almost intimate, “The next time you insult my wife, I will burn you alive and scatter your ashes in the fucking wind.”

Edric whimpered, his fingers clutching at the table as if it would save him.

Eris finally released him. Edric sagged forward, inhaling sharp, shuddering breaths. Eris straightened, his gaze sweeping over the other two men. “Keep searching. I want to know who it was. But if any of you speak of my wife in such a way again, I will not be so merciful.”

A heavy silence followed.

Then, without another word, Eris turned and left.

The moment he stepped into the cool hallway, the weight of the conversation settled into his bones. He was exhausted. Frustrated.

In a day, they would arrive in Autumn.

For now, he just wanted sleep.

But when he entered the bedroom, he froze.

The bed was empty.

His stomach twisted, his exhaustion vanishing in an instant. His eyes swept the room, as if she might be lurking in some unseen corner, but no—she was gone.

Where the fuck is she?

His mind immediately conjured the worst scenarios. Had she gone up to the deck again? Was she doing something reckless?

Cursing, he turned back into the hallway.

He was halfway down the corridor when he noticed a soft glow spilling out from one of the adjoining sitting rooms. His brows furrowed. At this hour?

His steps slowed. Carefully, he pushed the door open.

And there she was.

Lying on the couch, curled up beneath a thin blanket, Y/N was fast asleep.

His initial irritation—his worry—morphed into something quieter as he stood there, just watching her.

She looked small like this. Small and… exhausted.

He should have left her there. Should have turned around and gone back to bed.

Instead, he moved forward.

Gently, he scooped her into his arms, the weight of her settling against his chest. She stirred slightly, a small sigh escaping her lips, but she didn’t wake.

Eris held her close as he carried her back to their room.

It was for appearances. That was all.

They were husband and wife in the public eye. No matter how mad she was, no matter how mad he was, they had to share a bed. People would talk otherwise. They couldn’t afford the whispers.

That was the reason he was doing this.

Not because of the way she felt in his arms. Not because of the way her presence seemed to quiet something in him.

No.

This was for appearances.

And yet, as he laid her down in their bed, as he pulled the blanket over her and settled beside her, he knew deep down—

He was lying to himself.

The day passed in tense, heavy silence.

Y/N barely spoke to Eris. She ignored him when she could, keeping her replies short and clipped when forced to acknowledge him. And he, in turn, was no better. The only time they resembled anything close to a husband and wife was when others were around—when they had to act the part. A carefully practiced smile, a well-timed glance, a hand resting over his as if it was natural. It was all a show, one she had to play convincingly.

But the moment they were alone, the distance returned.

She spent most of her day with Samira, absorbing as much knowledge as she could. They spoke of the courts—Autumn, of course, but others as well. The Winter Court and its frost-kissed rulers, the Dawn Court with its scholars and dreamers, the Day Court that thrived under the warmth of Helion’s golden rule.

At times, Y/N caught herself wondering what Eris was doing.

She hated that. Hated that her mind strayed toward him when she was still angry. So she pushed those thoughts away, focusing instead on Samira’s words, on the endless knowledge she still needed to grasp.

That night, she and Eris barely spoke.

When they entered their shared bedroom, they moved in silence. He changed on one side of the room, she on the other. When they slipped into bed, it was without a word, both of them turning to opposite sides, their backs facing each other.

She should have been relieved.

Instead, she just felt… cold.

—

Morning came too quickly.

Y/N stood in front of the mirror as Samira fastened the final ties of her red and gold embroidered dress, the fabric hugging her body like it had been made just for her. And perhaps it had been. The color was striking—a clear statement that she was now of Autumn. A declaration she wasn’t sure she was ready to make.

Her hands trembled slightly as she smoothed the skirt, her nerves creeping in, sinking deep into her bones.

Samira, catching the movement, sighed and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You’re scared.” It wasn’t a question.

Y/N let out a shaky breath. “I am.”

“That’s normal,” Samira said, adjusting a gold pin in Y/N’s hair. “But you’ve learned as much as you could. We’ll continue your lessons in Autumn, of course, but for now—you know the basics. You know how to walk, how to talk, how to act like a true princess.”

Y/N swallowed. “But what if—”

“No.” Samira turned her by the shoulders, forcing their gazes to meet. “No ‘what ifs.’ You are ready, Y/N.”

Y/N’s throat felt tight. “I don’t feel ready.”

Samira gave her a small smile. “Then fake it. That’s half the game anyway.”

Y/N let out a dry laugh. “That’s reassuring.”

Samira smirked as she adjusted the final curl in Y/N’s hair. “I’ve never been to Autumn Court either, but I did have a cousin who spent some time there. She told me the fae there are quite… prim and proper.”

Y/N gave her a flat look. “Gee, thanks for the motivation.”

Samira burst into laughter. “I’m just saying, you’ll fit in just fine.”

Y/N sighed, turning back to the mirror as she took in her appearance. The regal red. The shimmering gold. The carefully styled hair.

She barely recognized herself.

“How long?” she asked softly.

Samira glanced toward the small window. “I think around two hours before we reach the shore.”

Y/N stared at her reflection, at the woman she was becoming.

You got this, she told herself.

A silent mantra. A desperate hope.

The fabric was rich beneath his fingers as he fastened the last button of his formal attire. Deep red, nearly crimson, with black embroidery curling along the sleeves and chest like creeping flames. It was a stark contrast to the simpler, more utilitarian clothes he had been wearing on the journey. This—this was what he was meant to wear.

What an Autumn Court Prince should look like.

Servants moved around him, adjusting the high collar, straightening the belt at his waist, ensuring every inch of his appearance was flawless. He let them do their work in silence, his mind elsewhere, tangled in thoughts that refused to be ignored.

They were home.

Or rather, he was home.

She… she was about to step onto unfamiliar ground. Onto soil that had never belonged to her. Into a place that might never welcome her, no matter how much effort she put in.

And yet she would have to try.

Eris exhaled sharply as one of the attendants moved to pin a golden clasp at his shoulder. His jaw clenched as his thoughts warred between duty and something far more personal, far more consuming.

She had spent all day avoiding him. Ignoring him.

And for once, he hadn’t known whether to be relieved or irritated.

He had been the one to pull her into his arms last night, to bring her back into their shared bed, because the thought of her sleeping elsewhere had been unacceptable. He had justified it as appearances, as necessity, but deep down…

Deep down, something about the way she had looked so small on that couch, wrapped in nothing but a thin blanket, had unsettled him.

Shaking off the thought, he flicked his wrist, dismissing the remaining attendants before stepping out onto the deck.

The scent of Autumn was already in the air.

Eris inhaled deeply, breathing in the crispness of it, the unmistakable blend of fallen leaves, burning embers, and the earthiness of the forests that stretched beyond the shoreline. It was different from the endless salt and water of the sea. It was home.

Around him, workers scurried across the deck, carrying trunks and supplies, making last-minute preparations as the outline of the shore came into view. The waters of Autumn were calmer than those of other courts—still, dark, waiting. It was as if the land itself knew it was powerful enough that it didn’t need to prove it.

His eyes followed the distant horizon, his thoughts tangled in the shifting weight of what was to come. His father would be waiting. The court, the nobles, the scrutiny of it all—the expectations, the judgments, the wolves who had been circling since the moment he announced his marriage.

The betrayal at Tidehold still burned in his mind, a festering wound that needed an answer. Someone had turned against them. Someone had handed their movements over to their enemies. And Eris would find them.

But before any of that—before the investigations, the deceit, the political games—he had to step off this ship with her.

As if pulled by some invisible force, he turned.

And felt her before he even saw her.

The shift in the air, the subtle flicker of something entirely hers weaving through the scent of Autumn. A presence that was already becoming dangerously familiar.

And then—he saw her.

Ethereal.

It took everything in him to stop his mouth from parting, to keep a sound from escaping him, a groan or something else entirely.

She stood at the far end of the deck, bathed in the morning light, dressed in his court’s colors.

His colors.

The deep red and gold embroidery curled over her figure like flames, highlighting her every movement with a kind of otherworldly elegance that did something to him. The fabric whispered against her skin as she stepped forward, her hair styled to perfection, her eyes flickering with something he couldn’t name.

Gods.

For all her insistence that she did not belong here, she looked like she had been born for this.

She met his gaze as she reached him, and for a moment, the world narrowed.

Then—her lips parted.

“Well, now you truly look like an Autumn Court Prince, dressed in all this red and black.”

Her voice was smooth, even, but there was the faintest edge of something else—something amused, something knowing.

Eris smirked, forcing himself to breathe, to not let himself slip. “I didn’t look princely enough before?”

She almost smiled. Almost.

But then she remembered, and she fought it back, lips pressing into a thin line.

Cute.

“Well,” she said, clearing her throat, “it’s different now that we’re in your home.”

Eris tilted his head. “Now it’s you who truly looks the part of the wife of an Autumn Court Prince.”

She sighed, looking down at her gown. “You like it? Samira showed me fifteen different options, but I picked this one. I don’t know if it’s enough, if it—”

She kept talking, kept overthinking, the nerves bubbling to the surface no matter how hard she tried to suppress them.

He didn’t let her finish.

He shushed her gently, cutting her off with nothing but his voice.

“You look ethereal.”

Her words died instantly.

A slight flush crept up her neck, over her cheeks, a soft pink blooming against her skin.

And that. That did something to him too.

His thoughts threatened to spiral, to latch onto the way she looked when she blushed, but before they could, a voice called from behind them.

“Prince and Princess Vanserra.”

They both turned.

One of the ship’s workers bowed deeply. “We reach the shore in fifteen minutes.” He straightened before hurrying away, leaving them alone once more.

Eris turned back to her, watching the way she swallowed, the way her hands curled at her sides like she was trying to steady herself.

He smiled—genuine, this time.

“Chin up. Shoulders straight,” he murmured, low and smooth. Then, softer—

“Let the show begin, Princess Amira Yasmin Idrissi Vanserra.”

She inhaled sharply, her expression shifting into something stronger, sharper, more determined.

And Eris watched her become it.

The gangplank lowered with a creak, the sound reverberating through the air as the ship finally docked at the Autumn Court’s port. A mild breeze carried the earthy, slightly smoky scent of the land, mingling with the saltiness of the sea. As Amira Yasmin Idrissi Vanserra—or rather, the female now inhabiting this identity—stepped forward, she couldn’t help but feel a weight settle on her shoulders. The ship had barely come to a halt before the official welcoming party appeared, soldiers and high-ranking officials lined up, ready to greet their prince’s return.

There was no turning back now.

As Eris descended first, his posture straight and dignified, the whispers and murmurs of the gathered officials grew louder, thick with anticipation. He didn’t seem phased, his usual confidence radiating off him like a cloak. Y/N followed him, her steps careful, controlled, as the ship creaked behind her. She could already feel the stares of the two Autumn Court females ahead of her, their eyes narrowing in judgment as they watched her. One had the cool, calculating look of someone who had seen countless females like her—foreign, out of place, but pretending to be something she wasn’t. The other wore a smile, but there was a sharpness to it, like a blade hidden behind a veil of silk.

They were sizing her up, and Y/N couldn’t help but sense their superiority. These were females who belonged here, who were born into this world. She? She was just pretending to be royalty, stepping into a role that was not hers by blood.

“Princess Amira, welcome to the Autumn Court,” one of the females said, her voice cold, even though the words were technically polite. She was dressed in rich shades of orange and gold, colors that seemed to swallow the light as she stepped forward. Her gaze flicked over Y/N, lingering for a moment longer than necessary, before turning to Eris with a practiced smile.

The other female—tall, slender, with black hair that cascaded like ink over her shoulders—nodded in polite acknowledgment but offered no warm greeting. Instead, her lips twitched upward as though she was savoring the sight of a new arrival.

Eris was walking ahead of her, his hand briefly brushing against her back, a subtle motion that gave her an inkling of reassurance, though it didn’t entirely quell the unease bubbling inside her.

His voice, low and steady, cut through the air as he addressed the gathered officials. “Allow me to introduce you to my wife, Princess Amira Yasmin Idrissi Vanserra.”

The words hung in the air as if the world itself was reaffirming the title. Princess Amira, Princess Amira, Princess Amira. She repeated it to herself, as if trying to anchor herself to the illusion she was spinning.

At his side, the tension was thick, palpable, but she remained composed, her back straight, her eyes moving over the crowd as she greeted them with a graceful nod and a smile, masking the faint tremor of doubt that whispered in her mind. She had to play the part. She wasn’t just Amira; she was Princess Amira, the new bride of the Autumn Court’s Prince, the female everyone would watch, would scrutinize.

But her thoughts were momentarily distracted when Eris turned to one of the officials—a tall male with a sharp, aristocratic nose—and gestured toward the pair of women who had been watching her with disdain.

“This is Lady Raelis, wife of General Talen, and Lady Irisa, wife of Lord Galverian,” Eris introduced. The two women nodded curtly, though their smiles were more calculated than warm. Their gazes flickered between Y/N and the crowd of onlookers, as if judging her very presence here.

As expected, their eyes swept across Y/N, lingering on her attire—the colors of the Autumn Court, the fine fabric of her gown, the way her hair was pinned up in an intricate style. But they seemed to find something lacking, something they couldn’t quite put their fingers on. Raelis’s lip curled slightly as she stepped forward with the air of someone offering a gift—one that she didn’t really want to give. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Princess Amira. We’re sure you’ll find our court to be… quite different from your homeland.”

Y/N felt a flicker of tension coil in her chest, but she smiled graciously, the words already on her tongue. “I’m certain I’ll grow accustomed to the many differences soon enough.”

Before Raelis could respond, Samira’s voice rang out behind her, a sharp, unmistakable presence. “Princess?” she asked, her tone clipped, her eyes daring anyone to comment on her interruption.

Y/N turned, her heart lightening at the sight of her trusted friend stepping forward. The other two female’s expressions soured immediately, their gazes growing more calculating as Samira—dressed as perfectly as always—made her way toward them.

Raelis’s smile faltered for a moment, and Irisa’s eyes narrowed. Samira didn’t flinch. If anything, she straightened her shoulders as if daring them to challenge her. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Lady Samira,” Y/N said, her voice strong, a flicker of command in her tone as she called the woman closer. “Please come forward. These are the women who have graciously introduced themselves as the wives of high-ranking officials.”

Samira gave a polite but firm bow. “A pleasure, I’m sure,” she said, her tone laced with restraint, her eyes flicking over the women with a look that could freeze water.

The female's stiffened at Samira’s confident demeanor, and though neither of them said a word, the air around them shifted—a subtle battle of wills, one that Y/N could feel but could not yet name.

“Now, now,” Eris said smoothly, stepping in between them, his voice cutting the air like a blade. “There is no need for such tension. Princess Amira has her own lady-in-waiting. Samira, as she has been by her side for many years.”

The words were final, and Raelis and Irisa didn’t press further, but the look of disdain still lingered in the air between them.

A carriage was drawn up shortly after, its wheels creaking under the weight of its fine wood. Eris stepped forward, offering his arm to Y/N. She took it without hesitation, the familiar warmth of his touch grounding her, though she could still feel the weight of the stares as they made their way toward the vehicle.

As they settled into the carriage, the door closed behind them, leaving the bustling, murmuring officials behind. For a moment, there was nothing but silence, save for the sound of the carriage wheels on the cobblestones.

Eris finally spoke, his voice low but amused. “You did well.”

Y/N allowed herself a small smile. “I don’t think they suspected a thing.”

Eris chuckled lightly, his eyes flicking to her. “You’re more than convincing when you want to be.”

She met his gaze, trying not to let the nervous flutter in her chest show. “I’ll just have to keep convincing them, won’t I?”

His lips curled into a smile, though his eyes darkened slightly. “Let’s see how convincing you can be.”

As the carriage rolled through the streets, heading toward the palace, Y/N leaned back, taking a deep breath. It wasn’t over yet. It had only just begun.

Eris's mind wandered as the carriage rolled through the lively streets of Autumn Court. The sound of cheers and clapping filled the air as his people lined the streets to celebrate his return. The banners fluttered proudly in the breeze, and flowers were tossed onto the cobblestone path as the people welcomed their prince and his new bride back home.

Eris shifted slightly, his gaze flickering toward Y/N, who sat across from him in the carriage, her regal posture never faltering. Even now, under the weight of so many eyes, she remained composed. He couldn’t help but notice how much she had changed in these few days. What had once been uncertainty and a touch of fear was now a cold confidence that mimicked the courts she had come from.

As the crowds grew louder, Eris leaned closer, his voice low. "You’re doing well. Keep it up."

She offered him a small, tight smile, her fingers flexing slightly on her lap. "I’m still not used to all of this."

"Neither am I," he muttered under his breath. "But I’ll get you through it."

The carriage jolted slightly as it passed a particularly crowded section of the street. The people cheered louder, some shouting their congratulations. Eris felt the weight of their stares, but it was Y/N who commanded their attention now. Her beauty—her presence—was undeniable. And as much as it pleased him, it also filled him with an unsettling sense of possessiveness. It wasn’t just his kingdom that was looking at her; it was his family too.

When the carriage finally slowed to a stop, the grand palace looming ahead, the tension in the air thickened. Eris straightened, giving her a quick glance before stepping out first, offering her his hand to help her out. She accepted it without hesitation, their fingers brushing briefly, before the both of them stood before the steps of the palace.

“Your Royal Highness, Prince Eris, Princess Amira,” an official greeted them, bowing low. “Welcome home.”

Eris barely acknowledged the greeting as he led Y/N up the stairs, her steps perfectly in sync with his. As they ascended, their arrival was announced. The doors opened wide, revealing the grand hall filled with the high-ranking lords and ladies of Autumn Court. Their gazes flickered to him, but it was Y/N who held the center of attention, their eyes appraising her, whispering behind their fans and veils.

His hand tightened around hers as they made their way forward, the stares like sharp needles at his back. But then, one of his brothers stepped forward—Nolan, with his usual smug expression plastered on his face. "So, this is the bride," he said, his voice dripping with condescension. "She’s... not what I expected."

"Of course, you didn’t," Eris snapped back, his voice cold. "Your expectations are as shallow as your taste."

Nolan smirked but said nothing else. Behind him, his other brothers--except the little exiled Lucien, of course--were staring not at him but at Y/N, each with his own expression. But it was his father, Baron who stood tall on his throne, his sharp gaze fixed firmly on Y/N, that made him tense slightly. His coldness made the temperature in the room drop several degrees. Eris could feel the weight of his father’s gaze, and it made his muscles tense.

Lady Autumn, Eris's mother, was the only one who didn’t seem to care about appearances. She glided forward with a warm smile, wrapping her arms around Eris in a tight hug. "My son, you’ve come home." She pulled away and kissed Y/N’s cheek. "And you must be the new princess. Welcome, dear. We are so happy to have you here."

Her words, laced with kindness, seemed to break the tension in the air, and Y/N, though still guarded, returned a small smile. "Thank you," she said softly, though Eris noticed the way she stiffened under the attention.

Baron spoke again, his voice cutting through the fragile calm. "Well, I had hoped you’d bring me the king’s daughter from Monteserre, but I see you’ve brought me a forgotten cousin from a lesser branch instead. But I suppose, as long as the alliance is secured..." He trailed off, his eyes flicking to Y/N before turning back to Eris.

Eris’s anger flared, but he kept his voice even. "Perhaps you should focus on what is before you, Father, rather than what you expected."

Baron’s eyes narrowed. "Is that a challenge?"

Eris wasn’t about to back down. "I’ve already secured what we need, haven’t I? The alliance is stronger than ever. And Princess Amira is no less worthy than any other bride you could’ve hoped for."

There was a moment of tense silence before Baron waved a hand dismissively. "We’ll see. Time will tell."

Lady Autumn shot Eris a look before gently taking Y/N by the hand. "Come, my dear, I will show you to your rooms. You must be exhausted from your journey."

Eris gave Y/N a small nod, his lips pressed into a thin line as he watched them leave. Y/N’s gaze met his briefly before she followed his mother, her expression unreadable.

The moment the doors closed behind her, Eris turned to face his father and brothers. The silence in the room was palpable. Baron gave him a curt nod. "Leave us," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Eris's chest tightened as he watched everyone leave the throne room, knowing that whatever came next would not be easy. But he had one goal in mind: to ensure his plan is successful.

As the doors clicked shut behind him, the weight of the moment settled heavily on his shoulders.

Let the games officially begin.

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