#but they just don’t strike me the way silver flames does

[adifferentsortofstrength]

My ACOTAR 6 crack theory:

The reason we haven’t had an announcement yet is because SJM can’t think of a good title.

I’ve read tons of posts where we speculate and imagine what the title will be and honestly, I have yet to find one that really hits.

[httpvomitello]

Hey, honey! I saw that you accept requests inspired by songs, so can I get an intense romance with Daemon x poc fem reader (who is as notorious, bold and rogue as he is). inspired by "Menina veneno" by Ritchie, please?

Hello, hello! I can also write without meaning to be inspired by some song, feel free to come back more often! Hope you like it ~ ♡

Venomous Love *⁠.⁠✧

daemon targaryen x f!reader

Daemon Targaryen had never been afraid of fire.

It coursed through his veins, the blood of Old Valyria, and he carried it in every reckless step, every bold word, every dangerous decision. But he hadn’t known true danger—not until the day he met you.

You weren’t from Westeros. The moment you’d stepped into the halls of the Red Keep, draped in silk the color of midnight, your skin gleaming like polished bronze, and your eyes sharp as a Valyrian dagger, Daemon had known you were trouble.

Trouble came naturally to him. He thrived in chaos, but you? You were chaos incarnate.

The first time he saw you, it was at a feast in King’s Landing. You had been seated at the far end of the table, your laughter echoing above the dull murmur of courtiers and lords. You had arrived as the representative of a distant kingdom, sent to negotiate trade routes or something equally dull.

Daemon hadn’t cared about the details. What mattered was the way you moved, the way your voice cut through the air like a blade, effortlessly commanding attention.

When your eyes met his across the room, there was no mistaking the spark that passed between you. You tilted your head, a small, knowing smile tugging at your lips, as if you were daring him to approach.

Daemon Targaryen was not a man to back down from a challenge.

He found you on the balcony later that night, gazing out over the city with a goblet of wine in hand. The soft light of the moon bathed you in silver, making you look almost otherworldly.

“You don’t strike me as someone who enjoys courtly nonsense,” he said, leaning casually against the stone railing beside you.

“It seems your words are right, my prince,” you replied, your tone playful but laced with a hint of sarcasm.

He smirked. “I take it you’ve heard of me, then.”

You took a sip of your wine, your gaze never leaving his. “Prince Daemon Targaryen. The Rogue Prince. The man who courts scandal as if it’s a lover. Yes, I’ve heard of you.”

“And yet, here you are,” he said, stepping closer. “Talking to me alone in the dark. Does that make you foolish or brave?”

You smiled, a slow, wicked thing that sent a thrill through him. “Neither,” you said. “It makes me your match.”

From that night on, the two of you were inseparable, drawn to each other like moths to a flame. You matched him step for step, word for word, your boldness rivaling his own. Together, you were unstoppable—a storm that swept through the court, leaving chaos and whispered scandals in your wake.

The first time Daemon kissed you, it was in the shadow of the Dragonpit. You had just returned from a ride on your horse —a gift from your homeland—and your hair was wild from the wind, your cheeks flushed with exhilaration.

“You ride like a madwoman,” he’d said, his voice full of admiration.

“And you love it,” you’d shot back, grinning.

He hadn’t been able to resist you. His lips crashed against yours, fierce and demanding, and you’d responded with equal fervor. Your hands tangled in his hair as you pressed yourself against him, your bodies alight with the fire that always burned between you.

The court was scandalized by your relationship. They called you his poison, his downfall.

“She’ll destroy you,” Viserys warned him one night, his tone weary. “She’s reckless, unpredictable. She’ll bring ruin to our house.”

Daemon had laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. “And what do you think I am, brother? A saint? We’re already ruined.”

But even as the whispers grew louder, you and Daemon only grew bolder. You flaunted your love openly, daring anyone to challenge you. Together, you were a force of nature—wild, untamed, and utterly intoxicating.

There was a night, late in the summer, when you and Daemon found yourselves alone in the gardens of the Red Keep. The air was warm, heavy with the scent of blooming flowers, and the stars glittered like shards of glass in the dark sky.

You sat on a stone bench, your legs draped lazily over his lap, as you sipped from a shared bottle of wine.

“Do you ever wonder,” you said, your voice soft, “if we’re too much for this world?”

Daemon tilted his head, studying you with those piercing violet eyes. “Too much?” he repeated. “Never. The world just isn’t enough for us.”

You laughed, a rich, melodic sound that made his chest tighten. “You always know how to flatter me, don’t you?”

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “It’s not flattery if it’s true.”

You turned to face him, your expression suddenly serious. “Promise me something, Daemon,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Anything,” he said, and he meant it.

“No matter what happens, no matter what they say or do, promise me you’ll never let them break us.”

His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “I swear it,” he said. “On my blood, my fire, my very soul—I’ll never let you go.”

You were his venom, and he was your fire.

[secretdiaryofcrowley]

Where we left off: Shax, newly anointed Duchess of Hell, jumpscared our hero in his bentley….

…. and apparently, she wants to bribe me with liquor-filled chocolates to come back to Hell. I’m not going back, but first I puncture the chocolates with a pen to drink all the liquor. Oh, and did I mention I’m small? (the puncturing and drinking thingie wouldn’t work too well if I was my usual size).

“Stop deluding yourself, Crowley. Deep inside, you already know that Aziraphale left for one reason only. You are a demon and you will never be good enough for him.” Shax tilts her head to the side in one of those familiar bird-demon gestures and watches me intently with one eye.  “How does that make you feel, Crowley? Hurt? Angry? Will you let an angel treat you this way? Break you and cast you away like a used toy?”

I clench the pen and ram into the next piece of chocolate like a tiny lance. This is ridiculous. She doesn’t know the least thing about my angel. However delusional Aziraphale may be for believing he can make a difference in Heaven, deep down his intentions are good. He never wanted to hurt me.

“You gave up everything just to be with him, and you’ve risked everything, even your own destruction. And at the first grasp of power – he’s gone!”

No. No, no, no, no! This isn’t about power. Aziraphale doesn’t care about power at all. He wants to change the system from within. He wants to turn Heaven into the place of light, he always believed it’s meant to be.

But in this belief, there’s no place for a demon. There would have been a place for the angel I was, but I can no longer be that angel.

Shax’ eyes glitter. “I’m not offering you a job, Crowley, I’m offering you a chance at revenge. Rise from the ashes and use that burning fury inside you against the one who wronged you. Unite with me and strike him down on the battlefield in the Great War to come.”

Revenge? Burning fury? I almost choke on the burning whiskey running down my throat. Course, I understand where this is going, she wants to me to direct my anger against Aziraphale. She wants me to become the big bad demon in shiny black armour raining fire and destruction in his unquenchable thirst for vengeance.

Bloody Heaven, I can almost picture this. Aziraphale and me having a face-off in the midst of battle. He’s probably wearing something silvery-white and carrying – I don’t know – some flaming sword or lancea-longini-spear-of-destiny-thingie. And then we’d look into each other’s eyes and stab each other very dramatically with Heaven and Hell watching. And maybe, just maybe, we’d die even more dramatically in each other’s arms with white and black wings entwined.

There’s only one little mistake in this scenario, we did this whole silver knight - dark knight scenario a thousand years ago in King Arthur’s Court and it hasn’t become any less pathetic since then. And second – a crank handle isn’t really made for stabbing. Or fighting in wars for that matter.

“Sorry, Shax.” I’m back to normal size now, sitting in my usual seat behind the wheel. “Nice career option, just not seeing myself there. Anyway, thanks for the booze and tell Hastur, I said ‘hi’”.

She looks at me incredulously. “This choice will have consequences. If you stand aside like a coward, you will be crushed like one.”

“There are always consequences.” I shrug. “But it’s not cowardice, although you probably don’t believe me.”

“What is it, then?” She eyes me suspiciously.

“I just don’t feel it, Shax. All this silly power play for rank and influence and who-get’s-the-biggest-throne-and-the-shiniest-medal. I know, we demons are supposed to live for this, but I just don’t care.  And, you know, that eternal-fiend-thing with the angels? Don’t feel that either.”

“Earth has made you weak.” She shakes her head. “All of us will assemble and take our positions in the last stand. Like on a chess board. If you don’t take yours, you will be totally insignificant in the game to come. And my offer was better than anything you could've hoped to achieve. You could’ve been my Second-in-Command, once I sit on Beelzebub’s old throne.”

She can’t know that she’s already the second person to offer me a position like that. The third, actually, if you count “The United States of Beelzebub”.

No.

No Heaven for me. No Hell for me. I’m done.

“I’m perfectly fine with being insignificant.” I want to add more, but she’s already vanished.

Anyway, I’m keeping the coffee. Or in my case, the liquor.

~*~

More Diary Parts

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Chapter Eighteen

Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Y/N Burgess is the granddaughter of Alex and Paul, and after having spent so many summers at their manor and always wondering why she was forbidden from entering the basement, she descends the steps into the world of the Order. She broke out the being that had been trapped in that glass cage, but what does he want with her now that he is free?

Warnings: Language, Sassy Reader Taking No Shit From Morpheus or the Hell Beasts, Gore Descriptions (Maybe? Depends on the Person So I’m Sticking This Warning In To Be Safe), Reader Threatens Lucifer (And Lucifer is Impressed), Reader Also Takes No Shit From Lucifer. 

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x Female!GranddaughterReader, based on Netflix’s ‘The Sandman’, Reader now has long-ish hair for plot reasons (Just so Morpheus can tug on it later). 

Word Count: ~2.8k

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While the castle looked like a castle on the outside, walking its halls was like walking through a cave system. It was a maze that you were sure to get lost in without guidance from Cerberus. Fires burned from iron sconces mounted on both the wall and the floor, but gave off very little heat. Hell was surprisingly cold and you wished you had known that because you needed a coat. The prickles of gooseflesh on your arms were telltale for anyone with eyes. But being cold wasn’t going to deter you from finding Morpheus and Matthew. You just had to get through Lucifer first. Never in all your years had you ever thought that you would be meeting the devil. There was a first for everything. 

Cerberus came to a stop at a cave that opened up to a black marble room with a fire burning the center and a balcony at the back. On that balcony was a being that stood a few heads taller than you with stark black wings. Lucifer Morningstar. You looked at Cerberus who then backed his way up a few steps and disappeared the way you had come. 

“Greetings, little one,” A calm voice spoke, far gentler than you expected. But you shouldn’t be fooled, this was Lucifer, one of the most brutal and cruel entities in the universe. They didn’t end up in hell because they chose to be here. They turned around to reveal a striking feminine face and piercing eyes. 

“Forgive my transgression, your majesty,” You said, keeping your posture firm and upright. “But it seems that I’ve lost someone and I believe that they can be found here in your domain.” 

Lucifer’s eyes glittered in amusement as they began moving from the balcony, practically floating across the black marble floor. Their lips twitched and coming to a stop, Lucifer ran their hand through the crackling fire. 

“I take no insult to your presence in my realm,” Lucifer spoke, flames licking at their fingers. “And indeed you have lost someone,” 

Your lips twitched.

“I will skip the pleasantries, your majesty because as of late I have dealt with many who simply don’t want to tell me the truth. I can forgive past transgressions between us because at this point? I believe there are more important matters at hand to be dealing with.” You straight-up told them. “I know Morpheus is here, I can feel it. Where is he?”

“Your resolute to walk into my domain and demand such answers may be your greatest strength… or your greatest act of hubris, Y/N Burgess,” Lucifer answered, the fires in the room flaring in temper. You could tell just by their eyes that they knew exactly what you were referencing. You were pushing the boundaries on their temper. So naturally, you stepped closer, your eyes blazing with silver energy.

“I’m in hell, your majesty, chasing after an idiot whom I am now stuck with for eternity. You think I have time to be anything butresolute with my actions?” You queried, your eyebrow arching. “I think not. The next time I get threatened? I will do more than just injure eye and draw blood.” 

“Hm,” Lucifer echoed, amusement once again sparkling in their deadly eyes. “I think I’ve underestimated you, little one. It won’t happen again. But should our paths cross again, do not expect the same leniency I have granted you in this passing.” 

“I expect nothing less from you Morningstar.” Lucifer’s mouth curved before they clasped their hands together in front of them. 

“Morpheus has challenged Choronzon for his helm.” They explained, their eyes now sparkling with chaos and mischief. Morpheus did what now? You pressed your lips together. You didn’t exactly know what that meant, but you had an idea that it involved some sort of fight. “If you will follow me, I shall take you to him and the challenge shall begin.” 

Lucifer began gliding through the rocky halls and you following behind them, holding your cardigan closer to your body. As you walked, the sounds of cheering and yelling grew, and you had a thought. Was all of hell going to witness this challenge? Most likely. Surely Morpheus challenging Choronzon for his helm would be mere entertainment for them. You happened upon a room with a large circular slab of black marble. It had four matching columns circling it, ringed with gold. The roar from the crowd of demons intensified as Lucifer appeared on the balcony only feet beyond.

“Curious, are you not?” Lucifer questioned in an open taunt, looking to where you hung back in the shadows. Your eyes narrowed at them. Openly showing yourself to all of hell was like broadcasting to them what you looked like. “Come little one, show them your resolution, your bravery. Since you are so openly bold with your demands.”

This was a very bad idea, but at this point, you didn’t think you had any other choices. Morpheus was going to be furious with you anyways, might as well make an impression on hell. But that didn’t mean you were all alone in this, you still had Morpheus’s territorial mark on your neck, teeth marks and all. That was a pretty blatant sign of who you belonged to (you hated to say that but it certainly helped in this case). So as you began walking forwards, you shed your cardigan to reveal the rather obvious sign of ownership on your body. You held the cardigan in front of you while stepping up next to Lucifer and gazed down at the crowd of demons, your eyes impassive. Their yelling and shouts went deafening. 

“A wise choice, little one,” Lucifer commented, smiling pleasantly at their subjects. You aired out a soft snort, working to retain that impassive and unimpressed look on your face. 

“I advise you to not underestimate me, your majesty,” You returned, your eyes slipping up to theirs. You gave them one of your chilling smiles. “It will be your first and last mistake with me.” 

Lucifer cocked their head to the side and let out a small chuckle. 

“You’ve got bite and backbone, girl, good. You’re going to need it with Dream of the Endless.” A chill went up your spine from the pleasant yet deadly look on their face. You didn’t have time to mull over what that meant because from behind you came a ravens call, followed by footsteps. Lucifer’s lips twisted and they turned around. In less than a fraction of a second, your neck burned viciously. That bastard. Resisting a flinch, you turned away from the growing crowd and met eyes with an absolutely livid Morpheus. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Morpheus asked, his voice thick with a husk but not devoid of power. His eyes rounded on Lucifer. “Morningstar, what business does my bonded have being here for this?”

Lucifer’s eyebrow rose and they chuckled in amusement. 

“Your bonded found herself here of her own volition, Dream Lord. Not by my demand.” Lucifer calmly returned, just a hint of gloat in their voice. Given the emotions you were feeling radiating from Morpheus, it was in your best interest to move closer to him and away from Choronzon, Mazikeen and Lucifer. As you were doing so, Morpheus stepped your way and held out his hand. This was one pissing contest you weren’t feeling inclined to challenge. So when you approached and his hand remained outreached, waiting for yours, you let him take your hand and pull you straight to his side. You bumped into him from the force he pulled you, but knew that pulling back at a time like this wasn’t a good idea. He was already mad enough. You aired out a breath, your next inhale filling you with the scent of Morpheus. You were already feeling less antsy. 

Have you a death wish?

Keeping your face passive, eyes trained on the demons in the room, and most of all, Lucifer, you responded. 

Hardly, Morpheus, but this is pure idiocy! You do realize what will happen if you lose this challenge?

Of course, that is one of the reasons I wished for you to remain in London.

So he wasn’t entirely heartless about you in this decision… but the least he could do was tell you his reasons for leaving you behind rather than let you stew in place. You looked up at his face, a frown now on your features. Morpheus ever so slowly turned his head so your eyes met. For a flicker of a second, through those steel-silver blue eyes of his, you could see his true worries. 

If this ends in my defeat, you must take my sand and escape to The Dreaming with Matthew. Tell Lucienne of my fate. You will be more than enough to sustain our realm in my absence. 

This time you couldn’t stop the flinch. Morpheus was prepared and ready for the worst outcome, and already thought to view The Dreaming as ‘our’ realm. Was he always this dramatic? Quite possibly… You wanted to retort that you would never just leave him in hell, but the moment the hand still wrapped around yours, gave your fingers a squeeze, you changed your word choice. 

That is not something I wish to think about, Morpheus.

And yet I must ask you to do so, promise me that you will abide by my wishes, Y/N. Promise me. 

You stared at him for a moment or two more, your lips pressing together in distaste for what he asked of you. His eyes bored more urgently into yours and breaking your pursed lips, you gave him your final answer. 

As you wish, I promise. 

End of conversation it seemed, because Morpheus was abruptly dropping your hand and stepping up onto the black marble, circular dais. He faced Lucifer who looked at him with that unnerving pleasant smile. It was almost like they knew they were going to win against him. Morpheus better not lose because you had not a clue on how to run a kingdom, let alone The Dreaming. You spoke to him one last time.

If you lose, I am going to kick your arse.

You couldn’t see the twitch of his lips, but you certainly felt the brief flare of emotion. That had to count for something, right? Morpheus and Lucifer stepped up to each other, squaring off. 

“As the challenged, I set the meter and take the first move,” Lucifer spoke. 

“Very well. Make your move.” Morpheus responded unflinchingly. 

“I am... a dire wolf. Prey-stalking, lethal prowler.” Lucifer said, a few tense moments went by before Morpheus responded. 

“I am a hunter. Horse-mounted, wolf-stabbing.” Lucifer doubled over, letting out a short gasp and clutching their stomach. Their hands came away crimson. You straightened up where you were hunched with crossed arms, a new understanding of what this challenge really was. A bloody wound on Lucifer’s abdomen dripped with blood. They countered. 

“I am a serpent. Horse-biting... poison-toothed.” You felt teeth sinking into your neck, poison seeping into your veins. Biting down hard on your lip as you stumbled a step, you breathed through the sickening feeling. Was this going to happen every time the pair countered? Morpheus retaliated, easing the venomous pain. 

“I am a bird of prey. Snake-devouring, talons ripping.” His voice drew out. Lucifer fully gasped and clutched their face, talon marks carved into their skin. 

“I am a butcher bacterium. Warm-life destroying.” You dropped to your knees in time with Morpheus, feeling your being eaten away. You just barely managed to raise your head to look at Morpheus once more. How would he counter?

“I am a world. Space-floating, life-nurturing.” That acidic pain disappeared and you wheezed out, your hand pressing into the pitch-black marble. At what point would this end? When they reached an impasse? Or when one of them had no other alternative to words to destroy what had previously been declared?

“I am a nova. All-exploding, planet-cremating. “ Lucifer rasped out. Searing heat scalded every surface of your skin. Peeling away as flesh burned and shriveled black, you flopped to the side with a scream, trying not to claw at your skin which felt like it was being cremated. Matthew fluttered overhead, his black eyes looking down at where you lay, in worry. A strained breath left your charred lips. 

“I am a universe. All things encompassing, all life embracing.” Morpheus finally countered. You breathed out a sigh of relief and ragged against the black marbled column. 

“I am anti-life. The Beast of Judgement. The dark at the end of everything.” Trembling where you were slumped, you looked at your hands which turned paler with each passing second. Morpheus had collapsed on his side, his face full of pallor and yellow. “What will you be then, Dream Lord?” 

Morpheus groaned as Matthew fluttered down to him.

“I… I… I…” Morpheus tried to rasp out. You opened your own mouth, not really knowing what to say but compelled to say at least something. 

“Boss? Hey, boss!” Matthew called, soaring down and hopping around him. You could feel your shared life force rapidly fading. Your muscles were leeched of strength, body of energy, mind of words. 

“Still with us, Dream?” Lucifer taunted. 

“He is and it's his move, Your Majesty.” Matthew retorted, coming to Morpheus’s defense. 

“There are no more moves. What can survive the anti-life?” Lucifer said, their voice echoing with such confidence that even you started feeling that urge to give up. Matthew hopped around in front of Morpheus, flapping his wings fervently. 

“Hey, boss. Listen to me. Do you know what can survive the anti-life? You. Dreams don't fսcking die. Not if you believe in them, and I believe Dream of the Endless would never leave his raven and consort here alone, in Hell with Lucifer. “ Consort? What was Matthew talking about? Was that why he was so resistant around you? Because he already had someone waiting for him? Tears wanted to leech from your eyes. Then a surge of strength flooded your body, renewing what had been sapped. You let out a soft groan of relief. 

“I… am... hope. Hope.” Morpheus rose to his feet, standing tall once again. Matthew fluttered over to you and picked at your tank top, urging you to get to your feet as well. While you shaky did so, using the column to keep steady, you looked at Lucifer’s face. It held shock, animosity, and most of all, slight devastation. Nothing could defeat hope, Lucifer knew this. Even you knew that to defeat hope meant that Lucifer had to give up hoping to return to their home in heaven. They would never do that. 

“Well, Lightbringer? It's your move. What is it that kills hope?” Morpheus questioned, pushing back against Lucifer with his words. 

“Choronzon, give him his helm,” Lucifer demanded not a second later. 

“No. I won't. It's mine. Please.” Mazikeen walked up to him, grabbed the helm, and then the demon by the throat. She then proceeded to throw the demon over the edge of the balcony. You let out a heavy and relieved sigh and leaned against a column as Morpheus approached Mazikeen. She handed the helm over to him. 

“Thank you, Mazikeen. Thank you, Lightbringer. The Ruler of Hell is honorable, indeed. I will not forget this.” Dream said, turning back to Lucifer and striding in your direction. Lucifer almost snorted. 

“Honorable? You joke, surely. Look out there, Morpheus. The billion Lords of Hell stand arrayed about you. Tell us. Why should we let you leave? Helmet or no, you have no power here. After all... What power have dreams in Hell?”

“You say I have no power here. Perhaps you speak truly. But to say dreams have no power in Hell... Tell me, Lucifer Morningstar, what power would Hell have if those here imprisoned were not able to dream... of Heaven?” This was the first you had ever heard Morpheus openly taunt someone (other than yourself), let alone Lucifer. Lucifer, for just a moment, looked like they wanted to cry. Then their face hardened. 

“One day, Morpheus... we shall destroy you.”

“Until that day, Lightbringer,” Morpheus spoke, plunging one last knife into the fallen angel with his words. He turned and quickly strode towards you. Helm under one arm, he wrapped the other around your back. He guided you from the room and as you exited the castle, the group of hell beasts, Cerberus lingering at the back, growled and snarled at you. Matthew chittered angrily. 

“Well, that’s rude…” You gave the beasts a look and made your eyes blaze silver. The beasts, save for Cerberus, let out whining squeals and quickly backed away. Your lips twitched, a smirk biting at the very corner of your mouth. Then Morpheus looked down at you with a raised eyebrow. With your eyes still that blazing silver you had received through your bond, you smiled up at him. 

“I believe it is time to retrieve your ruby?” You questioned. As much as Morpheus would deny it ever happening, he couldn’t stop the little smile that mirrored yours. 

Date Published: 10/14/22

Last Edit: 7/13/23

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[britishassistant]

Twst x Neverafter Crossover 1

TW for Body Horror

“Now, you shall all become the heroes of this tale…”

You wake up in the dark with faint humming in your ears.

You try to shift, to make out what’s going on and where you are, only for something sharp to catch on your lips.

When you jerk and attempt to pull away, it digs in, scratching and drawing blood from your arms, your legs, your chest, the inside of your mouth—!

Oh god, they’re inside your mouth.

The briars are inside of you.

Your brain panics, thrashing wildly, instinctually to get away as your throat tries to scream.

“…old on, minion!”

A burst of bright blue flame.

You scream even as it begins burning the briars shackling you to your coffin, as the flame makes its way closer and closer to your body.

Light.

That’s immediately covered by a silhouette as someone reaches in and begins to pull with their bare hands, yanking at the burning briars before they can catch your skin.

You feel them tear your soft palate as they emerge from where they were reaching down your throat.

The pain is dizzying, blinding.

And then, all of a sudden, it isn’t.

A soft, pale glow is enveloping you, closing up your wounds as a young man with silver hair and striking eyes holds a pen with a green jewel in its top over you.

As the pain fades, you can’t help gawking, taking in this boy and then the room you’re in, filled with floating coffins. No, no, this isn’t right, you were walking home from your shift at the mart in Kyoto, you have homework that’s due in English language tomorrow, so why does this room feel familiar to you? Why does this boy?

“Minion!” A cat-tanuki-weasel-thing? exclaims as it leaps into your lap, pushing against your chest. “Are you alright?! Yer not dying are you?”

Your arms encircle the animal of their own accord, beginning to gently stroke as though you’ve done this a million times before. “Wh-what? Where…?”

“Welcome back, Prefect.” A, a robot with flaming blue hair and brilliant gold eyes says, hovering over you. “How much do you remember?”

“R-remember? I—”

There’s a notebook in your hand.

It’s small, with a metal spiral at the top, a thick black cover decorated with an embossed crow over a pair of keys, and a loop of fabric to keep it closed.

Something seems off about it’s pages. Like there are somehow too many for what the notebook should be able to hold…

You thumb off the fabric and nervously flip open to the first page—

“Without a doubt, you have talent as a beast tamer.”

And—

“For the moment you hear it, you’ll feel as though a frost has spread over your skin. For your ignorance, as an exception, I’ll allow you to call me whatever you’d like. Though you may come to regret it.”

And—!

“Well, well, what a glittering assemblage…faculty and students, it would appear everyone is here.”

You shut the book, leaning your weight heavily on Silver.

“I hate this so much.” You grouse as Grim nuzzles into your chest. “Why can’t I just keep my memories every go like you all can?”

“It’s because unlike us, who slot into the absent places where we were meant to go, it would appear that you are replacing a new version of yourself every time, Prefect.” Ortho supplies cheerfully. “Like overwriting an old save file when you want to make a New Game.”

You can’t help the shudder you make at that.

“Ortho.” Silver chastens softly.

“That’s seriously creepy!” Grim proclaims from the safety of your arms.

“It’s not as bad as it could be!” Ortho argues. “Hmm…rather than overwriting this world’s Yuu completely, maybe it would help to think of it as a sort of New Game + feature? All of the knowledge, none of the injuries that your last body had.”

Your gaze wanders back over to the wreck of your coffin, briars hanging limp like grasping fingers. “Still…is it just me or is it getting worse to a much higher degree than last time?”

“We don’t have any time to lose,” Silver admits, helping to hoist you to your feet. “The others are still asleep and while Rook is running interference, it won’t take long before he notices. We barely stopped him from consuming Azul last time, but…”

“That’s no guarantee for this time.” You gnaw on your thumbnail, before letting Grim down and out of your arms. “Right. How long before we need to be in place?”

“You have 5.12 minutes before the headmaster arrives.” Ortho chirps. “If Grim is going to steal your robes, we need to depart soon.”

“Right.” Before Silver can leave, you grab the corner of his ceremonial robes.

“You can stay at Ramshackle tonight.” You try to insist. “Say that you were looking for your liege there but fell asleep accidentally. You don’t have to go back to Diasomnia.”

Silver shoots you a sad smile. They’re the only kind you see from him these days. “Thank you for your kindness, Prefect. But Father will expect me back if the Dorm Head is not missing. And, and maybe I can find out some more information…what his name was before he sacrificed it, at least. Something that can save him from what he’s turning himself into. I must try, at least.”

You grimace, but let him tug himself out of your grip and disappear with Ortho out of the Dark Mirror chamber.

You turn to Grim, “Remember the rules?”

“‘Course I do, fgnah!” He protests. “I should be asking you that question! With such an empty-headed minion, it’s important for the Great Grim to look out for ya!”

“Brat cat.” You retort without venom, lifting a finger to tick off, “Don’t let the fae know we aren’t sticking to the script.”

He holds up a little paw as you both leave, “Don’t trust those Royal Sword Academy guys! They’re way too straightforward to be up to any good!”

“Only make other people aware if you’re certain they can actually help. So students only, as the faculty are too high profile and useless.” You return, one finger left to fold down.

“Stay away from Diasomnia’s dorm head at all costs, and stop him from destroying Twisted Wonderland.” The pair of your chorus.

There’s a lingering hush outside the Dark Mirror Hall.

“Ge-get back here with my robes, fgnah!” Grim postures, his little chest thrust out in a poor imitation of his original bravado.

You can’t help the small quirk of your smile as you respond with a much more realistic, “Gah! Stay away from me!”

With the prickling feeling of something much bigger, much more powerful, and much more terrifying than you could ever conceive of staring covetous holes into your back, you launch into a run through the dark, near silent halls of Night Raven College.

[shivunin]

Surprise! Intimate moment, number 10 for whomever strikes your fancy best! :3

sbafdbasa WELL thank you for the prompt!! I've been thinking about Fenris and Hawke again, since I don't have any active projects with them. So:

10. Feeling for the other's hand from these prompts

Know When to Hold 'Em

It was the first night at cards. 

Well—no, it wasn’t. There’d been perhaps a thousand card nights. It wasn’t actually the first night at cards—it only felt like it because for the first time in three years, Fenris and Hawke were sitting together. 

They were not, strictly speaking, hiding their relationship. Really, there was no point; half of their friends were fully capable of reading between the lines if they weren’t drunk or distracted. They just…well, just hadn’t officially told anyone yet. There’d been no announcements or explanations, save to Carver—not that he ever answered her letters. So—that night, they’d passed through the main room downstairs very obviously not holding hands, had paused at the same instant in the spot where Danarius had finally died, and they had gone to Varric’s room (still not holding hands!) and it had been fine. 

Just fine. 

Varric dealt them in, already talking about some run-in with the Carta since the last time they’d seen him. Hawke let the words flow past her, focused instead on the way Fenris’s thigh nudged against hers every now and then on the bench. He was only tapping his foot; he did it all the time. But it made his leg brush up against hers intermittently, and after a moment her entire mind was preoccupied with the spot on her thigh against which she could feel the grooves of his armor. 

“Hawke?” 

“Hmm?” she said, lifting her head and looking at Varric. 

“Four silvers,” Fenris murmured, peering intently at his hand. 

She could see all of his cards. He knew she could see all of his cards, right? 

Right. 

“Call,” Hawke said, and tossed her money onto the table. 

“Got something better to think about?” Varric asked as Merrill carefully placed each silver on the table and slid them into the center. 

“Yes,” Hawke said at once, pressing her cards against her chest and leaning forward, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that horrible headdress at the Viscount’s Keep last week. Flames, did you see it? With the stuffed mice? Who does that?” 

“Ugh, don’t remind me, Hawke,” Varric said, and launched into a complete retelling of the event in question—which Hawke had left abruptly near the end of to find Fenris, not that Varric knew that—and Hawke breathed a sigh of relief. 

Beside her, Fenris raised his goblet to his mouth. When his hand blocked his face from the side of the table, his eyes slid to her. Hawke pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. His thigh nudged hers again, more slowly this time. 

He had to be doing that on purpose. 

Wait—ah, right. Serpents. Yes, she had some in her hand; when the bet came to her again, Hawke raised as if she’d been paying attention the whole time. Casually, she shifted the cards to the other hand and let her right rest on her leg. Several minutes later, Fenris rested his cards on the table and mirrored her motion. 

Under the table, where nobody could see, his fingertips nudged against her, resting in the empty spaces between her fingers without quite twining them together. Hawke shifted slightly, moving a centimeter closer to him—not enough for the others to notice, but enough to slide his fingers more firmly between hers. 

Flames; she couldn’t believe she could just touch him when she wanted to now. Not whenever she wanted to; she understood that without needing to think about it at all. But…to touch him at all when she hadn’t dared even to think of it for years—

It was just…nice for something to go right for once. 

“I knew it!” Merrill said abruptly, and their hands separated at once. 

“Knew what?” Hawke asked, reaching for her wine, missing, and nearly toppling the goblet. 

“This woman,” Merrill said, brandishing her card, “Whoever made this deck, they must have met Meredith. She has just the same eyes. Look!”

“Daisy,” Varric groaned, “Come on. You know you’re not supposed to show your cards.”

“Pish,” Merrill said, still holding the card out, “I know I’m not going to win, Varric, ‘Bela just took three cards out of her bosom while you watched Fenris and Hawke hold hands. Look!” 

But nobody looked; they all looked at Hawke instead. Hawke lifted her goblet with one hand and peered at her cards held in the other, intentionally conspicuous. 

“Are we going to keep playing?” she said, “Or not?” 

Varric scoffed and shook his head. Someone confirmed that the woman on Merrill’s card did, in fact, look like Meredith—but she’d have to retrieve the next round from downstairs for folding first. Isabela vehemently denied having any extra cards in her hand. 

And under the table, Hawke and Fenris reached for each other again.

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Lilia Vanrouge Suitor Suit Personal Story: Part 2

"It would fit me perfectly"

(Part 1) Part 2

[Exterior Hallway]

―A few hours after the school was purged of the ghosts

Sebek: Lilia-sama, My deepest apologies for making you wait!

Sebek: I have safely removed the “wedding ceremony” decorations from the cafeteria, and have returned it to its normal state.

Lilia: Thanks for your hard work, Sebek.

Lilia: …Hm? Is that Kalim and Jamil, as well as Silver heading our way?

Lilia: And the one behind them is…

Malleus: Lilia. Sebek. It seems like all the troubles have been cleared up.

Lilia: Malleus. Why are you all together?

Jamil: That is… We heard from the other dorm students that “Operation Propose” was a struggle until the very end.

Jamil: So Kalim said “I’m going to go make sure everyone is alright!” and suddenly started running off.

Kalim: I was relived that no one seemed to be hurt!

Silver: We came to pick up Lilia-senpai and Sebek. Malleus-sama suggested it since “They’re probably tired.”

Malleus: Well, partly it’s because you two went to deal with the bride in my place. I’m thankful for your sacrifice.

Sebek: Oh… Ooooh! What kind words!!!

Kalim: ―Ah, that reminds me, just a little bit ago, we ran into Rook and them.

Kalim: They were wearing some super cool tuxedos. Did Lilia and Sebek also wear such outfits?

Lilia: Unfortunately not. Only Rook and the others who came in the third group got to wear the groom outfits.

Kalim: Aw, is that what it was. I wanted to see the two of you in tuxedos too.

Sebek: Don’t worry about me. However I agree with your opinion that Lilia should get to have a beautiful outfit, human!

Lilia: Hm, when you say it like that, it does feel a little regrettable…

Lilia: It’s a shame that I wasn’t able to show you all my special, elegant and cute groom attire.

Silver: …It’s hard for me to imagine Lilia-senpai wearing a tuxedo.

Lilia: Kufufu. I bet it would fit me perfectly.

Malleus: If that’s the case, you should change into one now. If it’s just clothes, I can tailor it with magic.

Sebek, Kalim, Silver: Eh!

Lilia: What’s this all of a sudden, Malleus. Do you want to see me dressed as a groom that much!?

Malleus: That’s not why.

Malleus: Lilia seemed to look quite interested, so I thought it would be my thanks for today.

Kalim: You can make clothes with magic, huh. Malleus is pretty awesome after all!

Malleus: It will disappear after some time, since it is just a fabrication.

Lilia: I’m still elated. Especially if you say this is your gratitude, I’ll thankfully receive your gift.

Malleus: Of course. However, before it can be made, it is necessary to create a solid image of it.

Malleus: First, let’s determine the overall color.

Sebek: Malleus-sama!! What do you think of navy blue?

Sebek: Lilia-sama is a creature of the night, so a color akin to the night sky would probably suit him!

Kalim: Hmm, navy blue is good too, but… Isn’t it a little dark? If he’s going to do it anyway, let’s be flashy!

Kalim: How about red to match Lilia’s eyes?

Sebek: What did you say!? What do you even know of Lilia-sama!!!!

Silver: I agree. It’s certainly true that Lilia’s eyes are striking. I believe that red would suit him well.

Sebek: Absolutely not, I vote for navy blue!

Silver: It’s red.

Sebek: Navy blue!!

Silver: Red.

Kalim: I didn’t want the two of you to start fighting…!

Lilia: Everyone is so frantic for my sake. You’re such straightforward and adorable folk!

Lilia: You’ve been silently off to the side since we started, Jamil what do you think?

Jamil: That’s difficult… I feel as though Lilia-senpai could pull off any color.

Jamil: (How did this happen? It doesn’t matter what color the suit is, I just want to hurry and return home to the dorm.)

Malleus: … We’ll make no progress like this. Lilia, what color do you wish?

Lilia: Let’s see～ Right now I feel like…

Lilia: It’s gotta be green!

Malleus: Fufu… Green, I see. It’s the color of the flames of the Witch of Thorns. Not bad. Then, with that it’s settled.

Jamil: Wasn’t he going to pick between navy blue or red…

Kalim: Well, the most important thing is that Lilia gets to wear the color he likes.

Kalim: Ah! By the way, there’s an accessory in the Scarabia storage room that would probably suit Lilia.

Kalim: I’ll go quickly grab it!

Jamil: H-hey, Kalim! Wait!

Lilia: …An accessory that suits me. I wonder what kind of item it is.

Malleus: Let’s finish off the details of the design until Asim returns…

Kalim: HEE～EEY!

Lilia: Oh, Kalim and Jamil. You’ve returned.

Kalim: Sorry to keep you waiting, Lilia! Please take this!

Lilia: Oh… It’s an Albert chain that is modeled after a bat. That’s perfect for me.

Malleus: It’s a shiny and eye-catching item. It will be able to coordinate the whole outfit together as the main attraction.

Malleus: To match that accessory, it’ll be essential to have the buttons and ribbon-tie be flashy as well.

Malleus: …Alright, I have the image finished. Lilia, are you ready?

Lilia: Yep!

Lilia: Woah!

Kalim: Wow～～～! Lilia’s clothes are changing right before our eyes!

Lilia: Yes, what wonderful magic! Malleus, you’ve increased your abilities a lot.

Malleus: Good grief… You’re never going to fix that habit of treating me as a child.

Malleus: … Alright, that should be about it.

Lilia: Well? Am I more charming than usual?

Sebek: IT… IT’S… IT’S WONDERFUL, LILIA-SAMA～～～～～～!!!!

Silver: Agreed…! It doesn’t seem like the usual Fath… Lilia-senpai at all.

Silver: The flowers on the collar, the gold embroidery… as well as you who are wearing it, I think… that it looks very stylish on you.

Lilia: You put in all your effort to praise me, even though you’re not good at expressing yourself. I’m very happy for that.

Kalim: You really look like a prince out of a fairy tale! It looks amazing, Lilia!

Lilia: Kufufu! And what else?

Malleus: It was the correct choice to choose a deep green color. You can really feel the calm, adult-like personality.

Lilia: Kufufufufufufu! I see, I see!

Lilia: I’ll spin once around, so you all should enjoy my princely style from the back and the side.

[twirls!]

Jamil: Aaa…!! Lilia-senpai! It’ll be better if you don’t make too much intense movements.

Lilia: Hm? Why’s that?

Jamil: That Albert chain Kalim handed you… It’s an antique worth at least 10 million Madol.

Sebek, Silver: Wha-!?

Lilia: Is that right～ My, my, it seems I was lent a pretty expensive item.

Jamil: Yes. Please stop poking it with your finger and swinging it so casually!

Lilia: ��Now, that’s enough. You can release your magic, Malleus.

Kalim: Eh! Even though it suits you so well, you’re already going to change!?

Lilia: Yes. This was more than enough.

Lilia: …I do not know when there will be such an opportunity again. Everyone, burn my beautiful look into your eyes!

(Part 1) Part 2

[startanewdream]

Goodbye kiss

Summary: Lately they only share goodbye kisses (or Harry and Ginny's thoughts the day before they break up at Dumbledore's funeral). Sort of missing moment.

Or I was in the mood for some angst.

Harry’s kiss speaks of goodbye, tiny silver bells announcing their relationship is almost over.

Ginny is familiar with ending a relationship. She has had two breakups, after all, and she knows they are a risk at any relationship; she even encourages them when the relationship is going sour. Clean breakups are ideal - no hard feelings, just the acceptance that things didn’t work and now everyone is better on another path.

She remembers how it was with Michael. What they had had been cute at first, even special because he was his first boyfriend and she was his. But that was it; the only thing they ever shared was that beginning.

There wasn’t many feelings between them towards the end. Michael was too occupied with his OWLs and Ginny was too occupied with her Quidditch trainings, so they barely saw each other besides some meetings at the corridor when their schedules coincided. Michael was always at the library, Ginny was always outside and neither seemed to actually miss one another.

And then her efforts in training had actually paid off when Ginny caught the snitch under Cho Chang’s nose. She’d thought that Michael valued competition enough to actually praise her for her performance, but he wasn’t in the mood - and Ginny wasn’t very patient too, she admitted later.

‘If you are so upset that I beat Cho, why don’t you run off to comfort her?’, she’d yelled, annoyed that he was judging her for being actually pleased that they had beaten Ravenclaw.

‘Well, maybe I will’.

‘Do whatever you want, Michael, we are done’.

Michael had done exactly what she had suggested, and then Ginny had felt a tingle of annoyance that was the first real thing she’d felt for Michael Corner in a long time. But it was brief; she was better without him and in any case he was free to go comfort anyone he wanted.

Ginny would never discuss the need for a breakup.

Her breakup with Dean was late. Being with him had been nice for a long time, but a good snog was not enough to make a relationship last.

Things were rocky between them for a longer time than their relationship was good, but they still had feelings for each other, so they had tried. In the end, it had not been really his fault as much as it wasn’t hers; they just weren’t compatible, Ginny eventually realized. Dean wanted someone to pamper and to take care of and Ginny could handle herself just fine. She refused to be the lady in distress Dean somehow hoped she was.

Eventually she would find out that it wasn’t Dean that actually pushed her on the day of their breakup, but Ginny would not complain. Luck or not, their breakup felt necessary, a resolution of a relationship that was going nowhere and that was only damaging the friendship she once had with Dean.

Later Dean would try to talk to her, would want to rekindle their relationship. He might have lingering feelings for what they once had - but the sparkle that had first made them work together was gone.

All her previous relationships had faded so naturally.

Which is probably why this imminent breakup with Harry scares her so much.

She could understand if they had not worked out, if they found out they were better friends than lovers. But those few weeks they spent together only made evident how natural, almost effortless, it was being with Harry; it felt like they were supposed to be together. Dating Harry was a bright spot in the middle of a growing darkness, that Ginny had dared to pretend it would last.

Even knowing, she had hoped for more: they had so little time together, stolen hours that are not nearly enough. Ginny wants the time they never had to argue withhim, to find his faults and to discover what are her quirks that annoy him. She wants to have a bad day to see how they would work things out. She wants the tempestuous days that will show they can overcome any problem. She wants the good days where they will walk every little next step on their relationship.

But they won't have any of it.

Ending things with Michael and Dean had brought her relief. But breaking up with Harry is just… painful. Wrong. Heartbreaking.

Breakups are for when a relationship is bad, not for when in its best glorious days. Breakups are for when people are not in love anymore - and Harry likes her as much as she likes him, that Ginny knows, that she can see in the way he is staring at her, so desperate and so sorry.

He doesn't want to end things with her. But he will.

She can feel in the way he gazes at her these last couple days, or how he sometimes clings to her as if he fears letting her go, or how the joy in his eyes (that had glinted ever since Harry first kissed her) is gone, replaced by a quiet sorrow.

She hears in his voice as he talks to her, the ending always at the tip of his tongue. Not yet, but soon.

This would be easier, so much easier, if she didn't like him so much. If her heart wasn't beating desperately (for more, she wants more of him, always a little more) as she puts her arms around his neck like she has done hundred of times before, her lips touching his tenderly.

But Harry hesitates, his lips trembling and not moving against hers, and Ginny can already hear the parting words she knows he needs to say.

At night, when she can't sleep, she wonders how it will happen. If he is just going to tell her it's over. If he will justify. If he will cry.

If she will cry.

'Harry', she calls him, a soft plead. 'Kiss me'.

One more time, she thinks. We will leave the goodbye for another day.

When she feels Harry finally answering her kiss - his lips are urgent, feverish, needy and so sorry - she hopes for once that another day never comes.

~*~

Ginny’s kiss tastes like goodbye.

Harry hates it because it’s all wrong.

They must have exchanged hundreds of kisses by now - there was that first glorious kiss (sunlit, Harry had thought, it tasted like sunlit mournings), the goodnight kisses that tasted of good dreams and the even better good morning kisses that spoke of the possibilities the day brought.

That chaste peck on his cheek when they were in the Great Hall and he had wished her good luck on her exam.

That take-away-your-breath, fumbling-hands, intense snog in the broom cupboard of the sixth floor that tasted like desire and curiosity. The kiss on his bed that was forbidden and wonderful until they were hastily interrupted when Dean and Seamus entered the dormitory and Ginny had to leave under the Invisibility Cloak.

The warm kiss they shared when Ginny took him to the kitchens for a midnight snack and he could savour the hot chocolate on her lips - and then next day, when they had shared a picnic on the grounds, on that bright hot summer day, he had tasted every flavour of the fruits on her lips too. Fresh and sweet and acid.

But never bittersweet like it tastes these days.

Harry knows what he has to do and still he can’t. Not yet.

(Not ever, but he must)

Kissing Ginny is excruating as if lightning - the one in the tower that killed Dumbledore, the one marked forever in his forehead - is striking him, burning him; and yet kissing her still heals too, a phoenix song that fills him with a vain hope.

He tastes the goodbye in every kiss they share these last couple days. It’s Dumbledore’s funeral tomorrow and yet the day is warm, the sun shining on the surface of the lake, none at all caring that Dumbledore is gone and that Harry’s future is dark.

Harry looks away from the lake, his eyes falling on Ginny by his side. She is thoughtful, but when she feels his gaze, she turns to him, the corners of her mouth lifting up as if it is the most natural reaction for her to smile at him. Harry takes in the sight of Ginny - flaming red hair, warm fierce brown eyes, freckles carefully spread on her cheek (and collarbone and a little bit over her breasts, Harry knows) and he thinks this is the sight he wants to take to his heart, to last forever, even if their kisses are counted now.

She approaches him carefully and Harry reacts without even thinking, a second nature now - his arms reach to her, wrapping around her waist while Ginny throws her arms around his neck. Her lips brush over his, softly, the promise of a kiss he knows they will share in a second or too and for that second Harry hesitates, desperate for her lips and fearing it.

Every kiss they share is somehow closer to their last one. He already tastes the goodbye; he is not ready to let that goodbye leave his lips.

Maybe… maybe he can keep it there a little bit longer. Maybe if they kiss, time will stop and he will be able to live in that moment forever. But this will be the kiss that never ends.

‘Harry’, she whispers. Her eyes burn deep. ‘Kiss me’.

As if there is no tomorrow, he hears in her voice. As if it’s not the last time. As you always kissed me.

And Harry does.

[tanzaniiite]

WAIT A MINUTE • KARASUNO THIRD YEARS

requests: OPEN

warnings: nsfw-ish

a/n: this is abt the reader being lowkey scared about their first time and freaking out last minute

listen i relate to this ish heavily cause i’m super paranoid as a raging v!rgin so essentially this me projecting :D

also this is my first time writing anything nsfw-ish so don’t violate🧍🏽‍♀️ (unedited asf btw)

ASAHI AZUMANE

chile he understands

asahi is just as scared as you if not more

sorry, he strikes me as a v!rgin too idk

but yeah, he won’t be upset or anything bc he’s a GENTLEman 😌

he’ll suggest cuddling while watching a movie or something instead

if you’re still not convinced that he’s fine with it…

“but babe, you have a—”

“i-i know, it’ll go away… eventually”

asahi will tell you a thousand times over that he’s not mad and that your first time is a big deal, it’s okay to be scared

as far as his *ahem* problem goes, it’s nothing that a hand can’t fix

You bite your lip as you grind your sex against your boyfriend’s clothed erection. Asahi tilts his head back, a groan bubbling in the back of his throat as his hands grip your waist. You lean forward, burying you head in his neck as you continue to move your hips against his. The brunette can feel everything despite you both having clothes on but he wants to feel more. His fingers dance along the hem of your shorts before tugging them down gently.

You tense slightly, biting his lower neck as a reflex which only caused him to choke out a moan. Too blinded by wanting more of you, Azumane suddenly flips you over on his bed. His arms caging you in on both sides, you look up at him with wide eyes. He just sends you a small smirk before leaving a trail of kisses down your body. Just as he reaches the hem of your underwear, you jolt up suddenly. Asahi looks up at you, confusion written on his face.

“I.. um, I’m sorry Azu. Can we not… do this?”

“S-Sure! Whatever you want! What’s wrong?”

Your boyfriend quickly sits up and scoots next to you. He’s fretting over you and you feel guilty. You thought you were ready, you thought that this time your nervousness would disappear. “Hey, please don’t blame yourself. You’re not ready, that’s okay. To be honest, I’m not either” Asahi admitted rubbing the back of his neck. You gaped at him, “But you were about to–!”. The brunette face erupted in flames, “I know! I just wanted to please you and stop there” He confessed. You couldn’t help but laugh at his confession, Azumane blinked before joining in on your laughter.

“How about this; if either of us feel like we’re not ready.. let’s just say so, deal?”

“Deal”

DAICHI SAWAMURA

ngl you caught him off guard

he genuinely thinks you’re ready and into it but when you’re suddenly telling him to stop, he’s confused

pls don’t misinterpret, he will stop. he’ll just be taken aback

once you calm down and explain yourself, daichi will be like “oh okay”

if you ask him if he’s mad, he’ll reassure that he’s not. daichi will however excuse himself to.. take care of himself

“i’m sorry babe, i-i just panicked. we can try again–”

“y/n. stop.”

he will stop you dead in your tracks if you keep apologizing. he explains to you that if you’re not ready to not push yourself.

daichi wants your first time to be special and full of love, not something you did for the sake of him. he doesn’t want you to feel obligated to him and he doesn’t want you to regret your first time

he loves you and will wait until you’re ready

Kissing Daichi was… amazing. The guy is passionate in everything he does, so of course he’s just as passionate when it comes to make out sessions. That’s what this was supposed to be: a make out session. How did it turn into Daichi hovering over you leaving dozen of hickies on your neck and chest, is beyond you. As he busied himself with prodding at you sweet spots to make you make sweet sounds in his ear, you tightly secured your legs around his waist.

Feeling a bit brave, you arched your back causing you to deeply press your hips into his. Daichi tensed at the sudden friction, a low groan escaping his mouth. He pulled away to look at you, his lustful gaze boring into you. You couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous as he looked at you as if he wanted to devour you on the spot. Your nervousness only intensified as he began to unbutton your pants and pull off your underwear. You grabbed your boyfriend’s wrist tightly while pressing your thighs together.

“W-Wait, I’m not ready”

“…what’d you mean?”

Daichi sat back while you got dressed and calmed your rapid heartbeat. The two of you sat in silence for a couple minutes before he spoke up. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked looking at you nervously. You quickly shook your head, taking his hands into yours. “No no no, you didn’t do anything.. you were amazing! I just… I’m just not ready. I thought I was and I’m sorry for leading you on–” You ranted only to be interrupted with a kiss. Once Daichi pulled away, he cupped your face in his hands,

“You didn’t lead me on Y/n, there’s no need to apologize. You’re not ready, I’m more than happy to wait until you are”

SUGAWARA KOSHI

you say “no 😳”, suga says “yes ma’am☺️”

all my bbys drink their ‘respect women’ juice

nah but fr he’ll most likely stop before you get the chance to express your discomfort

suga is a very observant person and he can tell you’re uncomfortable and want to stop

“why... why’d you stop?”

“you look uncomfortable, are you sure you want to do this? we can stop”

bless this man

if you insist you’re fine and want to keep going (in fear of disappointing/upsetting him) he’ll flip the switch and say he’s not ready

knowing damn well he isn’t a v!grin with his fine aaa 🥵

if you’re not comfortable with expressing your nervousness, suga will take that role for you

like daichi, he doesn’t want you to regret this and he can clearly tell you don’t want to but for whatever reason you’re in denial. so he’ll say he’s not ready and nervous

he’ll then go on to explain why he’s nervous and scared, slowly pulling you out of your shell and getting you to share your nervousness as well

suga’s a good man istg

Soft moans spilled from your lips as Suga’s hand massaged your right breast while he took the left into his mouth. A playfully smirk graced his face as he looked up at you with those gorgeous hazel-brown eyes. “Mm, you like that Sugar?” He asked rhetorically, still massaging your left breast, tweaking your nipple between the pads of his index finger and thumb. You could only stutter out a weak cry of his name in response. This, however, fueled your boyfriend to continue in his endeavors to please you.

Moving up from your chest, he kissed you firmly. As the two of kissed, his hand abandoned your chest, which elicited a small whine from you. Koshi couldn’t help but smile in the kiss, he loved knowing he hand this effect on you. The hand that previously abandoned your chest made its way down your body and rested in between your legs. Suga noticed how you tensed and opened his eyes. He frowned slightly at the slight grimace on your face. Immediately he pulled away and looked at you.

“..Koshi, what’s wro–”

“Are you okay with this? We can stop right now if you’re not”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head vigorously, “No no no, I’m good. I want this” You ‘assured’, grabbing your boyfriend’s hand and pulling him towards you. Suga was lowkey offended that, one; you’d lie to him and two; you think he would believe such a bullshit lie. The silver-head pulled his hand away from your grasp and looked you dead in the eyes. “Well, I’m not ready then” He confessed crossing his arms over his chest. You let out a noise of disbelief before sitting up. “You aren’t? But you’re not a virgin..?” You stated, kind of confused as to why this was happening.

“I know. But I’m not ready for our relationship to go there yet”

“O-Oh, that’s fine”

Your boyfriend went on to explain how nervous he was about screwing up or not being enough for you. And you couldn’t help but agree with him. “Really? Me too! I haven’t done this before and I want to. But I’m scared that I’ll screw it up” You explained, finally opening up. Suga smiled slightly, glad that you were finally being honest with him.

“Sugar, we don’t have to do it right now. We can wait until you’re ready. And when you are, I’ll help you every step of the way”

[hopeless-weakness]

2022 Books I’ve Read

78/150

Tyrant by Sarah Bailey

(The Villetti Chronicles book 1)

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Trigger Warnings include:

graphic violence, threat of sexual assault, kidnapping, graphic sexual content including but not limited to spitting, CLG, stretching, DVP with a toy, degradation, praise

I knew she was going to be trouble. Knew it deep in my f!cking soul. And I wanted it. F!ck, did I want it… maybe even needed it. My life had been stagnant until Arianna Michaelson had shown up covered in blood. Now I was in hell… and I didn’t care. All I cared about was keeping her. And never letting go.

Yes, hello. I am in love. Sarah does this magical thing where she makes me fall in love with stabby stabby men. I’d let a man kidnap me, as long as Sarah sent him my way! “Sarah sent me” Yeah sure, let me just grab my shoes. Zayn is the prodigal son of a notorious mafia kingpin, and Arianna is the daughter of a gang leader. So it makes complete and utter sense for her to go to Zayn for help cleaning up her mess. They’ve known each other since she was four, so she’s very familiar with him and his…ways. But it’s his other ways that are new to her. His darker pleasures. And it should come as no surprise that she has no complaints about the rules he sets in place in order to help her. So up into his ivory tower she goes. While everything else is becoming a bore to Zayn Villetti, Arianna has his attention. Front and center. He has curiosity building in his bones. He shouldn’t want her, and definitely shouldn’t help her. But his little Tinkerbell has crawled into his every thought. And he’s in no mood to let her fly off. She’s a natural submissive. And Zayn definitely struggles with reigning himself in! All the things in the world to do, but Arianna very quickly becomes the most important part of his life. On her knees, by his side, nothing is more important than protecting her. Our Daddy Z is sweet and gentle at his core (only for his Tinkerbell of course). He’d give her the world on a silver platter with diamonds if he could. (And he tries.) With every hurdle they cross together, and it’s not a short list, I loved watching the love and trust they have for each other grow more. Even though their future isn’t traditional, he still gives her the world. And all his love and devotion.

There’s a mention of our darling four horsemen, and THAT foursome scene. I don’t want to say that Penn stole the show…but boy did he try! (He made me miss West.) And incase you need a visual of Mr. Zayn Villetti, our Daddy Zayn has tattoos, in all the right places. (Including a lovely inked necklace.) He wears suits that are like a second skin. Speaks Italian fluently. And he wears glasses. GLASSES!

Good girl: 19

Little Fairy: 38

Tink/Tinkerbell: 70

My Favorite Quotes:

• “I like punishing my pets. It’s the sweetest part, especially when they give in.”

• “I didn’t want you to have sticky fingers, sir.”

• “You’re f!cking mine.”

• “I’d put them in your mouth and let you taste your disobedience.”

• “I’ve been a very bad girl, daddy.”

• “Bad girls don’t get to see what their masters have planned for them.”

• “Give it to me.”

• “There’s nothing but you and me right here.”

• “I suggest you step away from my property. I’m not a forgiving man, nor do I tolerate anyone touching things that belong to me.”

• “Arianna Michaelson is property of the Villetti family.”

• “Nothing else in my life makes sense except you.”

• “You have always been my fairy, but you became my queen the moment you walked into my office, covered in your uncle’s blood.”

• “I’ll strike the match, you carry the flame and we’ll burn it together.”

6/10 Age Gap

8/10 D/s

8/10 Dark Romance

10/10 Dirty Birdy

8/10 Mafia Romance

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click here for my reading playlist! 🎧📖

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[awanderingtortoise]

a/n: first of all, i would like to thank my genius brain for answering the ask this stemmed from privately, therefore losing all access to it and anything i typed in reply. i would also like to thank google docs for housing the backup copy of this fic, ensuring my panic lasted only half the time it could have. finally (and the only serious thing here) ty to @nabrizoya for giving this idea during my 'i cant write banter only dad jokes help' panic, i loved it and wrote far more on it than i expected.

laughter in the rain

ao3

word count: 2.1k of pure fluff and crack

blurb: in which Nikolai is much too found of puns while Zoya is the polar opposite, and a young, incredibly chaotic Squaller child wreaks absolute havoc on literally everything.

(from tumblr ask: how about nikolai interacting with zoya's students and them finding nikolai's dad jokes funnier than zoya does (though she does secretly enjoy them)

----

Zoya knew she was in for it when she agreed to teach Damyen to summon lightning. Possible consequences listed themselves in her head without regard for her anxiety: Getting half her hair burned off. An emergency fire drill, minus the drill, at the Little Palace. Possibly a few roasted pigeons falling from the sky. The ten-year old Squaller was undeniably one of her most gifted students, possessing a striking talent for both the Small Science and utter chaos. Unsurprising, really, considering the child both worshiped Nikolai and had a disposition remarkably close to the latter’s. Zoya’s rant on the young Grisha amused him to no end.

“A miniature me,” Nikolai mused, glancing thoughtfully at Zoya as he sat on the edge of their bed. “And shaping up to be quite the handful.”

“You have no idea,” she grumbled, brushing out a stubborn tangle in her hair, eyes still bleary from her slumber or lack thereof. She’d slept terribly and dreamt her kefta had been on fire. Though she was never much for fortune-tellers or prophetic hogwash, she had an inkling this particular dream would soon be reality. “You could be brothers with how much you have in common. Insubordinate. Endless chatter. Utterly chaotic.”

“Handsome?” Nikolai suggested, inspecting his boots before putting them on. “Charismatic and startlingly intelligent? Really, my dear; you don’t have to be quite so negative.”

“I’m likely about to be set on fire. I have every right to be negative.”

“Now, now,” He said soothingly. “I’m sure it will be a very- enlightening experience.”

Zoya froze mid-brush stroke, turning to give him a withering glare. “Nikolai,” she hissed.

He grinned. “Yes?”

“We have talked about this.”

“Have we?”

“No more puns,” Zoya ordered. For every joke Nikolai in his love for infuriating humor could crack, these were the worst. The only people in the palace that found them amusing were Tolya and Nikolai himself. Which meant, of course, that Tolya was the only one Nikolai didn’t subject to this banal torture.

“Why?” Nikolai whined. “I find them rather electrifying, don’t you?”

She slammed her brush onto the table and stalked towards him, seizing his wrist. “I will blow you out the window. I will tie you to a tree and let Damyen use you for target practice.”

“From the sound of him, he wouldn’t dare. He loves me.”

“He’s also remarkably similar to you and has every ounce of your taste for drama. He might, and if he doesn’t you have my word that I will do it myself.” Zoya let her eyes flash silver, static crackling in the air.

“Alright,” Nikolai sighed, unperturbed by the display. “Fine. I concede. It’s but a trifle. A storm in a teacup, if you w- ow !”

She had sent a small shock through his arm, and now scoffed at the reaction to her handiwork. “Consider this a warning,” she sniffed, before turning to leave the room. “I have a Squaller to teach.”

“Storming off, are we- ow- ”

Only once the door was safely slammed behind her did she let her frown shift, lips quirking upwards. “Damnable idiot,” she muttered, smile clear in her voice.

“You love me for it,” Nikolai called from inside the room.

Zoya scowled. She’d need to have the walls thickened.

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

To Zoya’s right, a flock of very terrified and slightly singed geese squawked and took to the skies. Their nest lay in a steaming pile of ash. She raised a single eyebrow at her pupil. “Damyen, this is-”

“Awesome!” He cackled, gathering the ash in his hands and tossing it in the air like confetti. The flakes drifted down, settling in Zoya’s hair and eyelashes.

“I was going to say dismal. I do not recall asking you to set birds on fire. Your aim is terrible.”

“But I shot lighting!” He stared at his fingertips with such utter reverence for himself that Zoya didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“If you want to shoot lighting without setting your friends alight, I’d suggest you learn to hit your mark,” She said as sternly as possible. He’d picked up on the skill remarkably quickly, in all honesty, and the currents he summoned were more than good for a start. She was impressed, but her approval would only be gained with sufficient effort. And after more than a few sharp comments. “You aim worse than a blind mole rat. Again.”

Damyen sighed but brought his hands together once more, brow knitting in concentration as lightning began to form in his palm. Strands of his bronze hair fell onto his face and he squinted through them at the target. Adjusted his hands. Squinted again.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Zoya muttered. “Perhaps you’re waiting for the Saints to come riding down on a shiny chariot?”

He snorted, apparently genuinely amused, then let the bolt fly. At the same moment, a golden-haired figure strolled into the lightning’s path.

Zoya shrieked, hurtling a gust of wind towards Nikolai and blowing him to the ground. The streak of electricity slammed perfectly into the target’s center, setting the whole thing aflame.  Damyen whooped, throwing up his hands and sending wind blowing every which way; scattering leaves into the air as Nikolai groaned and swore from his spot in the grass.

“Hello,” He said weakly. “Atmosphere’s rather charged around here, don’t you think?”

She huffed and pulled him to his feet, glaring daggers.

“No shocks,” Nikolai noted.

“I may change my mind. Care to explain yourself, Lantsov? In the habit of trying to kill yourself?”

“I hardly need to try. I’m a magnet for life threatening situations. Though I’ll admit that today it was a personal decision.” He beamed, spreading his hands. “I simply wanted to help you make good on your threat.”

Zoya rolled her eyes. “Why are you here? Has something come up with the Fjerdans? Did the Kerch renegotiate the trade-”

“Zoya, Zoya, Zoya,” Nikolai sighed, tucking a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. “You worry too much.”

“I worry exactly the right amount for this fickle country. Answer the question, or I truly will have him target you.”

“Is it so hard to believe I came here only to see you?”

“Yes.”

“You wound me. But if you must know, I thought I could be of some assistance.”

“As target practice?”

He wrinkled his nose. “I’ve had quite enough of that. As a mentor. As a bribe, perhaps; for your little firecracker over there.” He glanced at Damyen, still stripping trees of their hard-earned leaves and seemingly unaware that he’d nearly killed his beloved idol.  “You seemed like you could use some help.”

She raised her chin disdainfully. “I am perfectly capable of wrangling the little-”

A loud crack sounded and the sky darkened rapidly, clouds swarming over their heads as rain began to pour furiously in a matter of seconds. A few meters away, a bright flash enveloped a tree, sending the trunk bursting into flames.

“Damyen!” Zoya screeched.

The boy stared at her, wide-eyed and grinning in a mix of elation and fear. “I made a storm, Your Highness!”

“Congratulations. Now do you mind stopping before you kill us all?”

“But I-” His eyes found Nikolai and realization set in as he beamed and the rain poured even harder. “Your Highness- es !”

Another boom, and a second, larger tree was wreathed in electricity and fire. It groaned, wobbling dangerously before crashing to the ground.

Nikolai’s brow furrowed, squinting against the pouring rain. “That,” he started. “Was a centuries-old sacred cypress planted by the first Lantsov kings. Now firewood. Impressive.”

Damyen’s chest puffed with pride.

“You can fawn over each other later,” Zoya snapped. “Damyen, enough with the storm. Turn it off before you start a forest fire.”

He grinned sheepishly. “How?”

She muttered obscenities, raising her hands and dispelling the clouds with a flick of her wrists. The sky cleared, small patches of pouring rain left to quell the still-burning trees as Nikolai whistled appreciatively, clapping; and Damyen gave a small bow. Saints, these two would be the death of her.

“So,” Nikolai said, soft enough that Damyen couldn’t hear. “Changed your mind?”

She sighed. “Fine. Make your attempt. You’ve always loved trying your hand at the impossible.”

“Improbable,” he corrected, then strolled over to Damyen, running a hand through the golden strands plastered to his forehead. Soaking wet and almost cooked alive, and he still looked every bit the regal prince; she thought, a grudging, now-familiar fondness rushing through her like a horrible, tooth-rotting sweet. She scowled.

“Lovely morning,” The prince greeted. Damyen bent over in a hasty bow, but Nikolai waved his hand. “No need. Are you the wonderfully gifted Squaller her Highness speaks of so highly?”

Zoya snorted, but Damyen’s eyes practically doubled in size. “She does?”

“Oh, yes,” Nikolai said seriously. “You’re quite talented, I hear.” He lowered his voice to a theatrical whisper. “Just between the two of us,” muttered Nikolai, very much loud enough for Zoya to be able to hear. “I think you remind her of herself, when she was your age.”

She opened her mouth; ‘What utter bullshit,’ already on the tip of her tongue but Nikolai raised a gloved finger, eyes twinkling. With much effort, she clamped her mouth shut.

Damyen seemed he might faint on the spot. Nikolai went on. “Really, there’s quite a lot you two have in common. Powerful. Willful. In possession of a rather strong attachment to me.”

The young Grisha was eating up his words. Zoya wanted to strangle the both of them.

Nikolai took a seat on a faintly smoking tree stump. “You seem to have quite a lot going on for you, learning to summon lighting and all. A rather current affair, don’t you think?”

The silence seemed to stretch on infinitely. Then Damyen gave a toothy grin and guffawed far, far louder than that sorry excuse for a joke deserved.

“Oh for Saints’ sake, Nikolai,” she groaned, shoving her face into her hands.

“Zoya, dear; no need to thunder about like that,” Nikolai said soothingly. Damyen bit his cheek in an attempt to control himself, but whatever smidgen of respect he had left for her kept him silent for barely a second before he burst into a fit of giggles.

Zoya threw her arms up in frustration and from the clouds a deep, deafening roar answered her-- how’s that for thundering, you nincompoop-- as the sky flashed once more, bright streaks lacing every cloud in an intricate web. Damyen’s gleeful expression faltered at the sight but Nikolai only grinned wider, patting Damyen on the shoulder before standing and holding a hand out to catch the rain.

“Don’t let her dampen your spirits,” he called sagely over the rumble, and it took a good amount of self control not to smite him on the spot.  Nikolai flashed a thumbs-up at the boy before jogging over to the spot where Zoya stood, arms crossed and glaring. He clasped her hand in his, opening his mouth to speak.

“Not one word,” she warned. “Not a single pun or I will have Tolya read you every Ravkan epic in existence while dangling you off the palace roof.”

“No puns,” he promised. “For now. I only ask that perhaps you let the sun shine through-”

“I will not sugarcoat my instructions for whatever reason.”

“The storm, my dear,” he said gently. “Not your teaching methods. We’re nearly soaked through.”

She glanced towards his dripping sleeves and the damp fabric of her own kefta. “Fine,” Zoya muttered grudgingly, raising her free hand to call away the storm and let the clouds fade to fog. “But enough of this foolery. I can’t have Damyen running around being able to summon lightning and having no idea how to wrangle it. He has to learn.”

“And he will. Let me work my magic and I’ll have him perfectly eager to learn to control his.”

“Without the puns.”

“With slightly less puns?” He asked, brow knit together as if the fate of his jokes were a matter of life and death.

Zoya frowned, but Nikolai’s pleading look wore away at her and she sighed. “Slightly less puns.”

His eyes lit up and he beamed, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. “You won’t regret this,” he promised.

“Oh, I will,” she remarked drily. “But perhaps not enough to shock you again if you can manage the walking fire hazard.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.” He bowed theatrically before turning and running back to Damyen with a ridiculous grin on his face, sunlight gilding his hair and shining in his gaze; his form so full of light that she couldn’t help but smile.

“Nikolai,” she called after him.

He turned, cocking his head. “Nazyalensky? Is everything alright?”

Zoya closed her eyes, sighing deeply. She opened her palm, summoning the smallest thundercloud, letting raindrops pool in her outstretched hand. “Right as rain, Lantsov.”

He laughed, and the sound, golden and unrestrained and bright, was worth every joke she’d ever have to endure.

[wolf-and-bard]

So, I wrote a Lambert x Aiden thing because of a conversation I had with @littoraly-art, so here we go. It’s hurt/comfort, but very much on the angsty side.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: explicit language, (brief) mentions of self-harming behaviour

You can also read it on AO3 if you want to

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

The hunt didn’t go according to plan. Lambert underestimated the amount of ghouls that would crawl out of that shithole and fought them well into the night, dodging and striking, dodging and striking for hours on end. They chased him through the forest and branches whipped at him. More than once, did he narrowly escape their bites and when they were dealt with and he stumbled back to light a bomb in the nest, he wasn’t fast enough on the retreat. His ears still ring and white spots dance at the margins of his vision. Lambert only notices that he’s overdosed on Thunderbolt when he’s already back at the inn he booked for the night, two ales down, and his muscles are still taut, ready to strike, while his sense of self-preservation has plummeted. Fuck. His fingers shake as he gestures for another drink. Sweat gathers at his collar, at the small of his back. He wants to sleep and rest, but he won’t be able to, not with the residue adrenaline.

“Lambert?” someone says and Lambert hunches his shoulders. Maybe if he hides his face, he won’t be recognized. But Aiden’s already emerged from the crowd and, anyway, he would have smelled Lambert the moment he set foot into the building.

“It is you!” Aiden saunters over, all neat bun and scandalously tight gear, his brown hair looking almost black in the downcast light of the inn. His smile is brilliant as he takes the chair opposite Lambert. Takes Lambert’s hands and inspects them for wounds before bringing them to his lips. “Hey, there, pup,” he murmurs against Lambert’s knuckles. Lambert’s heart does skip a beat, but with that comes a flare of anger. Aiden doesn’t get to be lovey and cheerful when Lambert wants to crawl out of his own skin. He hums something indiscernible.

“What is it? Talk to me.”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, really? Alright, if that’s how you want to play it,” Aiden says mockingly, letting Lambert’s hands go. “What? Oh, yes, it is good to see me, isn’t it? How I am? I’m so glad you asked. I managed to haggle a big fat fee on a rock troll couple that were mating up in the mountains and causing avalanches and now I’m drowning in coin. Pretty crazy, right? If I made it okay? Aww, sweetie, there’s no need to worry. Haven’t got a scratch on me. You wanna hear more about it? No, of course it isn’t too much to ask, I will happily oblige.” 

"Just... leave me alone," Lambert cuts in, and lifts his tankard to veil his face. He's good at hiding his emotion, but in the face of whatever this is and with the day he's had... well, his boundaries are more than probed.

“What? So, you can give yourself a sorry hand-job and cry yourself to sleep? No, sir, that would be incredibly pathetic and a crime against humanity.” Aiden smiles and before Lambert can keep drinking, he’s snatched the tankard away and emptied it himself. Great. Now there isn’t even that to hide behind. Lambert likes Aiden, he really does. On most occasions, he’s so overjoyed to see him that he doesn’t recognize himself. Aiden makes him feel… too many things to think about right now. Today though, Lambert’d rather be alone.

“None of your business.”

"Fine, have it your way" Aiden says with a good-natured shrug and, humming, stands. He makes a beeline for the nearest table full of average-to-handsome soldiers with the Temerian blazon on their chests, and slams a hand down on the table. His hips are cocked out, his smile sly, exposing overly sharp canines. They all look up at him with varying degrees of surprise, realisation. “Any of you boys down to fuck a mutant?” Lambert's blood runs cold, he’s had enough of this. He hurls his empty tankard across the room, angling just so he doesn't hit anyone - though no guarantee on the rebound – and leaves.

His armour, clothes and swords are scattered across the small room he rented by the time he makes it into bed, wearing only thin cotton smallclothes. He sits not two minutes, contemplating whether to go asleep or order himself more alcohol to dull the edge of his frustration even further, when Aiden comes into the room, no knock, no courtesy.

“Aren’t you off sucking flaccid cock? Or are you already done the whole lot of them?” Lambert spits, and crosses his arms over his bare chest. Aiden’s eyes darken and he shuts the door behind himself, forceful enough that it rattles, then slips out of his own armour and boots without much ceremony. “Go get your own room, asshole.”

“You know what? Go fuck yourself,” Aiden replies in a measured manner. All his earlier aloofness is gone, replaced by a gravity Lambert has a hard time looking at. Aiden sorts both their stuff into neat piles, then takes Lambert’s swords to the corner chair. Lambert stares at his own knees, but he can hear every tiny movement of Aiden’s hands as he cleans Lambert’s swords, inspects them for chips, pulls out a whetstone to restore their edge. The amount of care this alone conveys almost brings tears to Lambert’s eyes. Aiden could be deep-throating handsome soldiers right now, but instead he’s here, doing for Lambert what he doesn’t have the energy left to do for himself.

When he’s done the swords, Aiden does the same to his own pair, then examines the two sets of armour plating for tears or gashes that need mending. He lines up both chests of potions and counts out what’s missing, takes notes for ingredients. It’s a normal routine, only that usually, each witcher does it for himself. Lambert feels a mixture of embarrassment and affection heat his cheeks, but he doesn’t look up, not yet. Only when Aiden finishes with a soft exhale and wanders over to the bed which dips under his weight, does Lambert uncross his arms. Dares to take a peek. Fuck. He shouldn’t have. Aiden’s pupils are wide in the starlight that falls through the single window, the moon painting him in blues and silvers. Some of his hair has escaped his bun and his lips part on a sigh that expose his teeth. He’s a fucking vision, too gorgeous to be sitting here.

For once, there is quiet, so rare with the two of them. If Lambert lets go of consciousness a little more, it almost feels like a dream. If it were, he would reach out, draw Aiden onto his lap, lose himself in the familiar glide of their bodies against one another. As it is, the silence hangs by a thread and Lambert cuts it, edges fraying into dust between them.

“What,” he barks and Aiden sighs again.

“The only cock I want to suck is yours, idiot. Flaccid or not.

“Is that so?”

“Yes? I thought I had made that abundantly clear.” Aiden has. There have probably been more blowjobs than nights they shared a bed, altogether. And maybe that’s the problem. Aiden might not seem it now, but one day Lambert’s cock will not be enough to make up for his mouth.

"Why were you so obnoxious then?" he asks.

"Because you need to learn not to push me away, Lamb. I'm here, I understand, I'm yours." Three quick sentences that puncture Lambert like barbed arrows. I'm here feels like sparks of an off-kilter Igni that eat at his fingertips. I understand goes right to his gut and makes him feel like he is out on the rocky sea, in a rickety boat all by himself, at the storm's mercy. I'm yours is the lightning that strikes then and short-circuits his nervous system into small spams. He takes a deep breath and the soft kiss Aiden places on the corner of his mouth when he leans over helps quell the panic. "I can't change how I am," he says. Prickly, loud-mouthed, mean.

"You really aren't... no, that's not gonna work, is it? C’mere." Aiden crawls over the bed and settles next to Lambert, draws him against him, his strong arms wrapped firmly around Lambert's bare chest. Lambert's head is throbbing lightly, heartrate kept accelerated from the alcohol, but he deflates a little. Notices the small vial with almost clear liquid Aiden is holding between his index and middle finger. “You didn’t drink it, did you?”

Lambert shrugs. So, maybe he forgot to take the White Honey, fucked-up as he was. So, maybe he didn’t want to take it, stay fucked-up a little longer. He has days like this, where the lingering toxicity of the potions stokes some dark flame deep inside of him, kindled by his hatred for what he is, what he has become. Lambert isn’t prone to self-harm, but this, well. This he is prone to and Aiden is seeing right through him. Fucking cat, fucking.... is this love yet?

“I didn’t.”

“So, do it now.” Aiden uncorks the bottle with one hand and his grip on Lambert tightens so that he would have to struggle to escape it. For a moment, Lambert thinks about refusing. He wants to wallow, dammit, he wants to pity himself and maybe have Aiden pity him too. “Don’t think about it, pup. You can bullshit your way around other people, but not around me,” Aiden continues and holds the vial to Lambert’s lips. Lambert snatches it away and empties it in two long drags. Immediately, his vision sharpens and his lungs clear. His muscles stop trembling and his heartrate settles into its normal, mutated rhythm. “Better?”

“Better,” Lambert agrees sulkily. He tosses the vial aside and sinks back against Aiden.

“You’re really stupid sometimes, you know that?” Aiden says with a sharp edge to his voice, but he noses at Lambert’s ear, under it, breath hot over the skin of Lambert’s throat.

“You’re the one that’s stupid…” Stupid for caring for me. Stupid for still being here.

“Will you stop it already? I’m trying so hard to be patient and you keep pushing me away. Did you forget who I am? What we share?”

“I didn’t,” Lambert says. He is weak and tired. He lets Aiden tug at his chin and half-turn him for a kiss that lingers even after their lips part for breath.

“Then drop the farce. Fuck, I don’t know what to say to you,” Aiden whispers against his mouth, chasing each word with a kiss to Lambert’s lips, the corners of his mouth, his nose. “I love you, Lambert, I love you so fucking much, but I can’t keep prying you out of your shell. Don’t you trust me?”

I want to love you too, Lambert thinks.

With my life, Lambert thinks.

You’re the best person I’ve ever met, Lambert thinks.

But he isn’t ready for that yet and so he settles for the next best thing: “I’m sorry.” The rest of it he pours into their next kiss, one that feels frozen in time for how slow and indulgent it is, the world reduced to the drag of their lips and the scratch of Aiden’s canines, the stuttering of his breath. Lambert wriggles around until he straddles Aiden’s lap with his thighs and frames Aiden’s tanned face with his scarred, pale fingers. Even paler next to his lover. Aiden fucking glows and Lambert is less a man, more a phantom next to him.

“Fuck, puppy, you’re so beautiful, do you know that?” Aiden gasps when they part once more. His hands are splayed over Lambert’s upper back and they are both half-hard against one another, but Lambert doesn’t feel like sex. He feels like curling up and having a good cry. He feels like kissing Aiden again, and so he does.

“And here I am, trying so hard to hide it so you peasants don’t feel bad about yourselves,” Lambert says, on instinct more than anything else. He wants to slap himself, this is exactly what Aiden meant, isn’t it? But Aiden laughs, the fucker, a clear sound that sets loose something fluttery inside of Lambert. Shit. It is love. “I thought the scar would have done the job.”

“Joke’s on you, I adore the scar.” Aiden presses his lips to the bottom of it and drags them along, skipping Lambert’s eye in favour of nuzzling his forehead. It’s ridiculous. It tickles. Lambert laughs and hides his face in Aiden’s neck. Aiden sighs and his hands wander up to Lambert’s head, cradling it. “Promise me something, pup?”

Anything, Lambert thinks. He grunts.

“Allow yourself this. I don’t need you to fall onto your knees and profess your love in some grand gesture, but… don’t shut me out. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Thank you.”

Lambert falls asleep like that, tucked against Aiden’s chest and he wakes in the morning facing the sunrise with an arm slung around his bare torso and Aiden’s nose pressed against the nape of his neck. He allows it to last.

[dark128]

KNOCKOUT - CHAPTER 11

“Do you want me to?” 

Bo nods down at the condom Harry’s stiffly holding onto. He’s coiled up so tight that it would be a bad idea to let her undress him. He’s having a difficult enough time as it is just toying with the inevitable of her touching him, let alone below the waist. 

Bo had watched in fondness from her spot lounging on the bed as Harry moved from candle to candle, lighting as many as he could before the flame on the match got too low. She’d laughed at his explanation for not striking a second match, claiming there was a fine line between romantic and sacrificial. 

But now in this soft, flickering room, she smiles at him and he almost loses his nerve. 

“No, it’s alright, I’ve got it.” Kneeing closer to her across the mattress, “just lay back,” Harry encourages softly.

On second thought, that’s probably the worst thing he could of suggested because now Bo’s laid beneath him and he’s acquired an audience to a process that makes his hands shake. Hair splays on his pillows and it’s been so long since he’s had something so pretty occupy his bed. 

She’ll linger on his sheets. The smell of her perfume and the fleeting heat of her body which escapes once the covers are peeled back, both temporary, both are not enough. He craves so much more. But the memory will be permanent. 

Harry doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the way she’s looking at him now, like he hung the moon and every star in the sky. 

He swallows before going through the motions of unbuttoning his jeans and sliding the zip. The full weight of her gaze lands on his stomach as the bottom of his t-shirt is taken between his teeth to hold it up and out of the way. Fingertips unwittingly tickle as Bo traces his hip and on towards his belly button. And he sort of hopes she misses the goosebumps it raises on his skin.

As Harry gently presses to widen her legs, the winsome charm she led with earlier seems to escape her. He’s left feeling fully endeared by her absent fiddling of his belt loop.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

There’s a smile but it lacks prowess and so Harry removes himself from looming over her and comes to lay beside her. Bo shifts into him.

“We’ve had sex before.”

It’s quiet because he doesn’t want to disturb the delicacy they’ve slipped into. Facing each other, it’s still a little difficult to comprehend that he’s with her now. She’s in his tiny basement flat where the hot water is temperamental and the floorboards creak in odd places along the hall. 

“I know. But it feels new,” she softly smiles, thumb lightly rubbing at the tattoo on his hip. 

Her beauty has become more refined in the five years they’ve known each other, more of a classic look that has Harry pinned every time she holds his eye contact. Despite her wishes for a growth spurt, Bo stands at the same height against Harry’s shoulder. But now there’s a confidence in the way she holds herself, filled with achievements and future aspirations. 

He can’t really imagine what she’s seeing. He’s been greeted by this image of tattoos and damaged eye every morning for years whilst he brushes his teeth in the bathroom mirror. So perhaps this intimacy does feel new to her now. 

He’s pliantly patient as he waits for Bo to initiate further contact between them. They talk quietly, muffling laughter into the pillow as Harry recounts one of his mishaps in the kitchen. It’s not long before she’s bashfully rubbing her nose to his and Harry’s sighing into the sweet kiss they share. 

He welcomes the palm warming his side and it’s when she gets a little more handsy that Harry encourages Bo to seat herself upon his lap. Sat with his back to the coolness of the wall, there’s a heavy clash in temperature between the brickwork and the woman he holds close. And whether wilfully calculated or involuntary, Bo’s hip movements are progressing the thoughts in Harry’s one-track mind. The longing of experiencing another person so intimately is finally being quelled, soft mouths and testing fingertips reaffirming to the both of them. 

But it’s the tug to Bo’s hair that sharply clears the heavenly ascent, lacking in any sort of lustful passion and is instead leaning more towards unintentional pain. She breaks the kiss, fingers wrapping Harry’s wrist.

“AaaaAA,” Bo’s pitch escalates as he attempts to remove the hand riddled with silver rings from her hair. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Harry fusses. 

She’s instructed to hold still, huffing out a sigh, whilst Harry sorts the situation out with a commentary of swears. Looking like she’s sucking on a lemon, Bo obediently follows Harry’s lead as he adjusts so he’s not working in his own shadow. Once she's free, her hair is tangled enough to make drawing her fingers through it bit of a pain. 

Harry twists the rings off his fingers, throwing them in irritation to the bedside. Another colourful curse falls from his mouth as he shuffles them both down the bed before flopping backwards onto the mattress. Bo watches as he rubs his eyes with tightly clenched fists. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry sighs through his hands that are currently covering his face.

“Don’t be silly.”

“I cocked that up.”

Still currently residing in Harry’s lap, she’s not quite sure if she should remove herself given that the mood has taken bit of a nosedive. Bo’s answer is given moments later as Harry’s knees come up behind her and palms splay out on her thighs.

“Don’t. Feels good.”

“You ok?” 

“I’m fine, are you alright?” he tightly replies. 

“You just seem a little tense,” she warily suggests. 

“It hasn’t exactly gone as smoothly as I’d hoped.”

He doesn’t quite meet her eyes, the action weighing heavy on her chest. 

“You been thinking about this a lot then?” Bo teases, eyebrows suggestively raising as she tries to lighten the tone. 

“‘Bout what?” he fires back, palms softly squeezing where they’ve remained. 

Harry loves the flirting, and is more than thrilled to have it reciprocated, to have her play with him in this back and forth. Suggestive tones that are made even more fun because he knows there’s a depth to it. 

But he sort of also wants to hear her explain their situation. Explicitly. 

“What do you think?”

“Couldn’t say,” he goads. 

“About having me under you,” Bo simply replies, not missing a beat. 

Prayers answers. 

“Maybe, but it’s mostly been about the cuddling and kisses on the cheek.” 

“Liar,” she accuses, lightly pinching at his side. 

“Ok, ok!” he jostles her as Bo’s fingers find a particularly ticklish spot under his arm. “I might have thought once or twice about getting you in that window seat.”

“You said you were kidding about that,” she implores, batting him across the arm.

“A guy can dream.”

“Well, you’ll be dreaming for an eternity.”

“Shame, any thoughts about the same activity in the shower?”

Bo laughs, rearranging herself out of Harry’s lap.

“Maybe we should concentrate on the current situation,” she motions, “lay back."

Harry’s on his back and he feels like a fucking lemon because his hands don’t know how to play it cool and his heart is hammering like it’s his first time. He can’t be sure what Bo is doing until she appears with her hair tied back from her face. She’s assumed the odd position of straddling his knees. And Harry watches her crawl up his body before a kiss between them only has four inches to make contact. 

“Hey,” Bo hushes with a smile. “How ya doing?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine?” Bo lightly tests, her fingernails running across his stomach.

Harry lays with his brain between his legs and his bottom lip between his teeth. He enjoys the lingering tingle as nails drag just that little bit too deep; done it to himself when the occasion arises and he’s in the mood to get off. But this is different because for the first time in a while it’s not Harry’s own hand palming over the seam of his jeans. And it’s the partially choked sound he makes that sets her smile. 

Her touch is gentle, easing his jeans down until another tattoo is uncovered. She gives it some consideration, thumbing over the patch of inked skin. 

“Is this a tiger?” she asks, grinning up at Harry.

“Thiger.”

Bo snorts before clamping her hand to his thigh to lean in for a kiss, which ends up being a clumsy kiss to his chin when Harry moves his head at the last second. They laugh again. 

“Please tell me you didn’t just get that tattoo so you could make that joke,” she scorns him whilst edging his underwear down. 

“It did make you laugh thou-“

The sentence is choked off as Bo takes him into her mouth. All thoughts evaporate from his mind, only ones of pleasure and utter desperation remain as she licks around the tip.

“You’re gunna have to bear with me, it’s a steep learning curve.”

And Harry thinks she almost looks smug as her index traces the curve of him from base to head. Even more so as his cock is laden with chaste kisses, an innocent gesture for such an erotic setting. And apparently mirroring his dilemma between either wanting to take Bo sweetly or just nail her into the mattress. 

He only realises how pent up he is when his fists loosen in the sheets once she’s finished with her little display. He’s hardened fully and he’s having trouble with digesting the image of her laid between his legs. 

Even with a mouth full of cock she’s trying hard not to smile. 

“You’re gunna kill me,” he pants, eyes rolling back.

She huffs a laugh around him which proves to visibly tighten the muscles in his thighs. And it’s only now that Harry thinks, she tied her hair back to suck me off. He may have transcended to a higher plain of existence as her hand begins to work him over - deliberate with her strokes and squeezing just slightly to keep him coiled up.

Harry’s own hands have returned to the sheets, balling them in fists as he endures what’s panning out to be the most long-awaited oral of his life. He’s a little embarrassed to say that he can already feel the muscles in his stomach tightening. It’s a hot clench that only burns warmer by the second. Harry’s approach is a little haphazard, but the hand he brushes to Bo’s cheek hurriedly catches her shoulder to encourage her away. 

“I-I think I’ll be alright now.”

Or maybe not, Harry swallows as Bo passes the back of her hand over the corner of her mouth. 

“Spoilsport,” she teases.

***

“I always loved your thighs,” Harry comments, warming his palms to the inside of Bo’s legs. 

He’s going to satisfy that heavy ache she feels low in her belly. It only intensifies as Harry looks up at her through his eyelashes. He’s going to bewitch her senses and leave her wanting him again and again. It’s been so long, Bo would forgo sleep and forfeit any sort of productiveness the next day just roll in the serenity of candlelight and a lover’s warmth. 

She’s still sporting her bee-saving t shirt as she watches the muscles in his chest and shoulders transform with his movement. An ungainly squeak is produced on account of Harry sharply dragging her a little further down the mattress. Something which he finds highly amusing judging by the crinkle to his nose. 

“Brute.”

Harry laughs. 

He murmurs a quick apology, brushing his fingers to her cheek before retrieving a condom. The process is smoother as his hands refuse to quake and now Bo’s onlooking makes his blood rush in electric excitement. He’s practically thrumming with it as his touch leisurely slips between the apex of her thighs. She clamps his hand there with the forgotten feeling of someone else’s kind fingers. Harry’s treated to a series of spectacular little sounds, whisperings and then small startles that are muffled into Bo’s arm as she hides her face. He’s being brazen with it, not just the fact that his fingers play but knowing that this is what she wants, she wants him. 

There’s a look of wild revelation as his fingers dip into wet warmth. The couple hold eye contact, Harry’s movements gentle and without haste in the knowledge of acts to follow. There’s an actual throbbing between Bo’s thighs, making them shake in the effort to keep them from falling completely open. It’s barely a whisper, but Harry hears it, the “please” that tells him she’s barely keeping it together. 

She’s ethereal laying below him, all soft features and devout gaze as he lines up and finally pushes in. It’s almost jarring the way she feels around him again, giving him that pliant smile, the one he recognises, the one that means she’s not completely with him. That is until he starts to move and it’s like she’s a drowning woman breaching the surface. Her back arches from the bed, arms around his neck as she pants into his, clinging to him like he’s her saviour. 

“Harry.’

His name is spoken in a raging half whisper. 

“I know,” he replies because he can feel it too.

Rapture. She’ll be his undoing and his sexual reawakening. Harry welcomes that warm pull in his belly as he angles his hips to draw new, breathy sounds from his lover’s lips. 

Bo’s an honest delight beneath him. The way he can feel her toes curling against his calf, her fingers gripping his nape to encourage him further on top. As if he could get any closer, they’re already sharing breath and fumbling kisses. 

Harry’s pretty sure a bottom corner of the fitted sheet has sprung loose with the way they’re contorting to keep damp skin close. His skimming hands have pushed her t shirt up, deft fingers hooking the right cup from her bra down so he can kiss at her breast.  

She’s more fussy than he remembers, especially when he leans away and takes a heady breather. Her huffing is a tad undue but Harry thrives in it, noting her disgruntled expression as he slips from her entirely. There’s a flash of an unpleasant second when Harry’s mind tells him he’s going to be booted in the face. 

But Bo’s brought her feet up to lightly drum against his chest and Harry can’t help but laugh at the playfulness, grabbing at her ankles before she has a chance patter against him again. 

“Come on,” she almost whines. 

His hands move of their own accord, sliding down her calfs to press his thumbs into the back of her knees. 

“Impatient little thing, aren’t you,” Harry replies, leaning into her whilst spreading and gently bearing down on the back of her thighs. 

There’s pink blooming on her cheeks, and Harry can’t be sure if it’s the temperature in their duvet fort, or the fact that Bo’s ankles are now resting on his shoulders. 

“You promised me a whole evening.”

Harry thinks her chide lacks the lustre needed to fully penalise him, especially when he can feel her wriggling to meet his hips. 

“And I wouldn’t want to go back on my promise.”

He lightly kisses at her ear, unworried about hiding his smile. 

“Because that would make you a shitty person.”

He’s not expecting the pinch to his hip, so the growl he produces in response is a surprise to both of them. 

“I don’t remember you being so boisterous.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re practically bending me in half.”

Harry lets Bo unfurl, her legs slipping down to rest beside his hips once more.

“You’ll have to forewarn me next time so I can stretch beforehand.”

“Next time?” Harry curiously enquires. 

“I’m not just having you once,” Bo breathily promises in his ear, the tone making it seem like that fact was obvious.

Harry plays along with their distracted conversation, leaning over her with an elbow propped and his thigh between hers. 

“Tonight?”

He’s not ready for the shove to his shoulder or the dominating role reversal, so when Bo’s sat astride him Harry’s sure she feels him twitch. She doesn’t play at coy, but there’s definitely something more bashful in her movements as she delights in the feel of him again.

“Forever.”

That promise sets his heart soaring. 

She reaches behind for him, shuffling back to seat herself fully down with a flutter of eyelashes and somewhat of a startled whimper. And Harry can’t help but grunt at this all-consuming feeling; this time with the added pressure of hands splayed on his chest as he’s halfheartedly held down.

“Was that a bit cheesy?” Bo asks once she’s chased her breath. “It sounded romantic in my head.”

“A bit, but I think it worked in the moment.”

“Good, because I meant it."

He doesn’t want it to sound insincere whilst she’s riding him, so Harry bottles up the ‘I love you’, and saves it for when he can confess with a clearer mind. Instead, he grabs at her hips, eyes devouring the way her body moves against his and he’s delighted with the repeat image of her bouncing, slack jawed. And because he’s a tease, Harry delights further in the sounds she creates when his hips come up to meet hers. 

She wants him every way she can, but that wish may have to wait. 

“Lean forward,” he pleads.

Bo’s forehead comes to rest on Harry’s as his feet plant to the mattress and his knees come up behind her. With the strength of his tattooed hips, he meets hers at a toe-curling rate. Bo succumbs, allowing Harry to take the lead and guide them both, her face finding the crook of his neck and his arms wrapping around her back. He cradles her into completion, hearts hammering as Harry chases the rapture that Bo blissfully makes peace with. It’s only with the last few stuttering thrusts that Bo pushes up, taking his face between her hands to kiss away the curses that slip free from his smile. 

***

“I like them,” Bo admires, fingers running over twin inked dates on his shoulders. 

She shifts a little to sit back on his thighs, taking his forearm with her as she intently inspects all the splashes of black ink she’s unfamiliar with. It’s all Harry can do to give Bo a soppy smile whilst she carries on, giving each design her attention. They’re partially dressed again, Harry only decent enough to have taken delivery of their pizza before returning to the bedroom. 

“Who’s this?”

Harry’s arm is raised as Bo taps a finger to the tattoo in question. It’s a delicate gesture that challenges her comical disapproval. 

“My mermaid.”

“She’s cute,” Bo says, finger following the swish of dark hair. “Why’d you get her?”

“Dunno, I’ve always liked swimming.”

He’s met with a surprised laugh. 

“So, of course, logically you got a mermaid permanently tattooed on your body,” she chides, shaking her head. 

There’s a small “B” inked just below the inside crease of his elbow. She tilts her head, smoothing over the skin with her thumb.

“That one’s yours,” he says simply, like it couldn’t be anything else. 

“Mine?” she asks, eyebrows shooting up. 

Harry presses a kiss to her forehead. 

“Yep, “B” for Bo,” Harry tells her quietly. “Beautiful.”

She licks her thumb, rubbing at the letter.

“You really got it tattooed?”

“Yeah,” he laughs.

“That’s permanent.”

“I’m aware,” Harry smirks, biting at her neck. “Just like my mermaid.”

“Yeah, just like her,” Bo thoughtfully rephrases. 

It’s a few moments before she replies, still rubbing at the small letter. 

“Why’d you get it?”

“You’re important to me, you’ve helped me through so much, it just felt right.”

She doesn’t say anything in return, not sure that she actually can. Pouting in contemplation, Bo shifts a little in Harry’s lap. 

“Maybe I should get your name tattooed on me.”

“Oh, really?” Harry smirks. “Where? Hopefully somewhere only I get to see?”

“Hmmm, I was thinking more of a chest piece,” she leans away, gesturing to a band of skin above her breasts.

Harry appears a little horrified for a moment but his composure cracks before laughing and grabbing for her hands. 

“I’m not sure that’s your best idea.”

She slumps back to be cradled into Harry’s side. 

“Or maybe I’ll just get a ‘H’ here,” she hushes, voice more sincere as fingers point to the exact spot on her arm where he has her inked. “So we can match.”

Bo’s treated to a kiss to the tip of her nose. She sighs before further squirming away to continue the inspection of body art. 

“Roll over then.”

She makes herself comfortable, sitting astride his lower back as delicate fingers trace more tattoos curving around his side.

“Oh God, that one’s awful.”

Harry huffs a laugh into the pillow in response to her brash opinion and feathery touch. 

***

Harry wakes to the heart wrenching feeling of an empty bed. He sits up rather abruptly, hands skimming bed-warm sheets as the duvet slips to pool at his waist. He swallows twice, mind reeling to kickstart foggy memories from hours before. 

The bedroom door has been left ajar, just enough for a thin strip of light to hollow out the darkened room. Soft footsteps follow and Harry’s heart climbs back down his throat for it to thud against his ribcage.

His body flops back against the pillows before the door is nudged just enough for Bo to slip back through. She doesn’t think anything of Harry now sprawled out on his back, but she knows he’s awake because of the subtle inclination when she draws back the confusion of sheets. 

“Your hot tap is broken,” Bo hushes whilst climbing back into bed on the floor.

She receives a rough hum, Harry’s arm draping her waist.

“Did you hear me?”

Instead of moving himself closer, he opts for coercing Bo until the length of her body is flush to his, like he’s seeking the cool side of the pillow. 

“Broken,” he grunts.

“And you don’t have a bath mat, my feet got cold. I can go out and get you one tomorrow. Or today?” she adds, trying to lean over Harry to confirm the time on one of their phones.

He mumbles something incoherent into her shoulder, lips forming words like kisses upon her skin. With her on her back and Harry now on his side, he’s almost perfected the art of blurring the lines between them and creating one warm entity under the covers. 

“Repeat that.”

She gently catches under his chin with the tips of her fingers, prising him from the nook in her neck.

“Don’t need one.”

The raspy words catch in his throat. 

“Everyone needs a bathmat. Where will you dry your feet? You’ll just track wet footprints through your room.”

“I’ll think about it.”

No, he won’t. 

“Of course you won’t, I’ll just go and get you one,” she pauses. “It’ll be a fluffy orange monstrosity because you’re being difficult about it. Probably a matching toilet cover as well - if they still even sell those?”

The arm banding her middle squeezes tighter which Bo thinks is Harry’s silent way of getting her to hush..

“I love you.”

Oh.

Bo stills in his arms.

It’s something she’d insinuated hours before. That she would still be his in the morning, and every other morning of her promised ‘forever’. But for him to utter the words into their lengthy, soft post-sex haze - Bo was just about ready to settle into the cradle of sleep. But now she’s fully awake. 

He’s still pressed against the length of her, his hair brushing her cheek as the urgency to gauge her reaction grows. 

“I’m in love with you - still.”

Still. Like he’d never stopped. And that’s a little terrifying to know, especially in the knowledge of their separation and the years between then and their reunion. 

“I’m still in love with you,” he rephrases. “Got there in the end.”

His lips catch a soft smile which diminishes as his words rest into silence. Harry feels Bo draw in a grounding breath as though she’s trying to compose herself. Unsure as to whether this conversation should be illuminated, Harry decides against turning on the lamp. Partly because he frightened to disturb her but mostly because he can’t bear the thought of seeing Bo’s face if it’s rejection that awaits him. 

“If you’re not ready then I - well, I understand -“

“I’d like to take you out,” Bo interrupts.

“What?”

“Not fatally,” she hurriedly explains, “like on a date?”

“Oh - ok.”

“Yeah? We could go out to dinner or have cake at a cafe in one of the parks? Or there’s that cinema experience that looks quite fun.”

*** 4 Months Later ***

Harry can hear it in her voice, that she’s not prepared for his confession of undying love just yet and she certainly isn’t ready to say it back. But this is the start that they both deserve, a calm, normal beginning to their new relationship. It’s a chance to get to know each other again and to see where it progresses. And Harry’s happy with that as they lay and bounce date ideas between them, all the while Bo’s fingers have found his own. 

“Why must everything be so high up?” Bo grumbles. 

Her complaint is voiced to the glasses on the top shelf in Harry’s kitchen cupboard. Despite her irritation, he’s pleased to see her emerge minutes later with two drinks in hand and his socks pulled up nearly to her knees over leggings. 

“I see you were successful,” he grins as Bo sorts out coasters.

“Well, I did nearly pull everything off the worktop in my struggle, but it’s fine.” 

Her words are accompanied with a sugar-sweet smile that can only mean trouble for Harry. He hopes he’s forgiven with the choice of Tuesday night Bake-Off on the telly. And it’s as Bo’s laughing at some awful bread pun that the question just feels right. 

“Bo, do you wanna move in?”

She smiles, pressing into his side and rearranging his arm so it curls around her back.

“No,” he huffs a laugh, pressing a kiss to her hairline. “I mean move into the flat - with me.”

“Really?”

Bake-Off forgotten, Bo swivels to face him. There’s joy dancing in her eyes as the bun atop her head bobs with her excited wriggle to move closer. The TV is set on mute and Harry becomes confused at the sharpness in her eyes. 

“I want the left side of the bed, permanently,” she negotiates. 

“It’s yours. Even when you’re not here.”

“And you’ll leave space in the bathroom for my things?”

“I mean, there’s quite a lot of your stuff in there already - but of course.”

Bo kisses his cheek. 

“I just got my first pay from work,” Bo happily states. “I’m gunna buy some proper glasses, so we don’t have to drink wine out of mugs.”

“What’s the point?” Harry laughs. “The fact that you stick a straw in everything sort of lowers the tone of a proper wine glass anyway.’

The remark earns him a sore shoulder. 

“And we can always get you a step for the kitchen.”

She rounds on him so fast he nearly spills the drink he’s just picked up from the coffee table. 

“We will not be doing that. You’ll help me move everything down so I can reach it myself.”

“No problem.” 

“I’m gunna phone my mum,” she rambles, untangling from Harry and tripping over a charging cable. 

“Should I set up a direct debit? Or do you just want me to transfer my half to you each month? What would be easier?”

“Don’t worry,” he laughs. “We can sort it out later.”

“I love you!” she calls from where she’s peeking around the doorframe.

It’s such a casual gesture but Harry’s settling into the knowledge that the love he’s bursting with is reciprocated by the woman he adores. 

“I love you, too,” he smiles. 

[dekus-afro-pic]

Smile For The Camera

Dabi x Fem!Reader x Hawks

⚠️ warning ⚠️: This fic includes the use of Dabi and Hawks real name which are spoilers to the manga. This fic also includes non-con sex with Endeavor, murder, crying, SWEET SWEET REVENGE, and Villan Hawks

Summary: After months of being held captive by the number one “hero” you finally snap. When you reunite with your childhood friends, whom you thought were dead, your opportunity for revenge is brought to you ona silver plater. Art by @brttpaige

Burns and bruises littered your body and the man on top of you was to blame. You scratch at the hand that was around your throat as you felt yourself losing oxygen. The “hero” slaps your hands away and strikes your face as he continued to thrust into you.

“Just take it,” He grunts above you “Give me what I want”

Tears were no longer streaming down your face but that didn’t stop you from wailing in pain as his hips met yours. You refused to look into his eyes when he hurt you this way. Knowing that if you did, he’d only go harder. You didn’t want this at all. How could he not see that? You didn’t expect your close friend’s father to be such a…monster.

How could you not know y/n? He killed his own son for Christ's sake. And soon, he’d kill you too.

After Endeavor finishes his load inside of your womb, he zips up his pants and leaves. You laid there, in the bed of an apartment that he kept you captive in, and shuddered. You knew two things for certain.

You are not going to bear his child and you were going to kill Enji Todoroki.

You crawl towards the nightstand and pull out a plan-b from beneath it. After swallowing the pill dry, you make your way to the bathroom to tend to your injuries and cleanse yourself of that monster.

Unbeknownst to you, someone watched the whole ordeal take place. Dabi’s blood was boiling. How the fuck could the number one “hero” be capable of such actions. But then again, heroes weren’t all that they seemed. His chest tightened as he watched you use your water quirk to heal your bruises. You shouldn’t be going through this. You should be out there getting rid of villains like his “father”. He knew he had to get you out of there. He pulls out his phone to inform the others of his plan. But for it to succeed, you were going to have to make the first move.

And that you did. Once your body was back to an ok state, you start packing everything you could. Your toothbrush, clean clothes, the little food you had in the beat down apartment, 2000¥ ($20 USD) you stole from your abuser, and your only second pair of shoes. You were on a mission to get out of there as fast as you could.

It was a Friday night, meaning that Endeavor was out playing pretend with his family. The looks on their faces once you reveal his secrets were ones that you want to cherish forever. You couldn’t wait until the world finally knew who it was idolizing.

You wasted no time opening the bedroom window and sprinting down the fire escape stairs. You held the duffel bag close to your body as you ran down the dark alleyway. You were free. You were finally free.

After running for what felt like 20 minutes you finally stop to give your aching lungs and legs a break. You didn’t know where your legs had taken you but from the looks of it, you were farther away from the apartment than you had imagined. You weren’t complaining though. The farther away you were from that wretched man the better.

You sat in a quiet alleyway for some time. You reach into your bag for a water bottle as you pressed your back against the brick wall. When you looked back up from your bag three men were standing on the opposite side of the alleyway. As the men inch closer to you, you realize that there weren’t three men. It was one man with gigantic wings.

“Hey kid. I know this might sound crazy but” He said grabbing you and your bag with both his hands “You’re a package I need to deliver.”

“What the fuck let me go” you struggle against the stranger's hold. Your actions are stopped as he rose in the air. You cling to his chest for dear life hoping he wouldn’t drop you.

“Where the fuck are you taking me bird brain?” You yell against the roaring winds. He didn’t answer you, he only smiled as you continue to spew curses at him. “I swear when you land I’m going to DROWN you”

Finally, he lands in front of a relatively big house in the woods. Once his feet touch the ground you use the water in his body to make him punch himself. Before you could swing at him with your fist, his feathers lifted you off the ground and carried you into the house.

“Hawks is back” you heard a girl squeal “And he brought her too.”

Hawks’ feather dropped you on your bum as the man walks off. The girl from before comes into your line of eyesight and smiles. She had blonde hair which was tied into pigtails and her canines were long.

“Hi I’m Toga” She introduced, holding out her hand to help you up. “The birdie who flew you in is Hawks, he’s Dabi’s boyfriend. Welcome to the new and improved League of Villains super-secret hideout. Don’t tell anyone though. Or I’ll have to kill you”

“Y/n” you reply as you take her hand. “Why am I here? I’m no villain.” At least not yet you weren’t.

“Dabi has told us all about you. Which is why you’re here. He should be around here somewhere” She wonders off. You hear her yell “DABI” Before she returns with Hawks and another man, who you assumed was Dabi. You flick your middle finger at the birdman as he walked closer to you.

“Aww don’t be like that kid. I was only trying to help” He said with a smile. With the proper lighting in the house, you got a proper look at the man. His wings were a bright crimson color and his blonde hair was done messily. He had a long scratch from above his right eyebrow down to the middle of his cheek. Overall the man looked familiar.

Damn this man is gorgeous. If he didn’t have a boyfriend I’d want a piece of that.

You flinched when you feel his hand touch your shoulder. On the defense, you twist his arm behind his back and push him away from you. When you realize what you’ve done you quickly apologize “Oh shit. I’m so sorry I didn’t mean-”

“No it’s fine” He reassured with a smile “it’s obvious that you're on edge. I shouldn’t have done that”

“Yea...on edge” you turn to the other man. His eyes were bright blue and the majority of his skin was covered in burn scars. Staples pierced his skin in various places. “You must be Dabi”

“Correct. But you can call me Touya”

“Tou-?”

“Follow me” He interrupts. You follow the couple down the hallway. You passed multiple rooms. In one room, a man with visible dry skin sat in front of a medium-sized tv with a game controller in hand. Maybe he’d let you relieve him one day.

“I’ve been watching you Y/n” Touya begins “I’ve seen the things that man has done to you”

You stopped in front of a brown door. Hawks stepped in front of you with a softer look.

“You’re going to get your revenge little birdie. But for now,” Hawks opened the door to the room. It was gorgeous, to say the least. A queen-sized bed was centered in the room with the smell of vanilla faint in the air. “You’re going to relax”

You dropped your duffel bag as you slowly walked through the threshold. You make your way to the bed with tears blurring your vision. Hawks place your bag on a vacant chair while Touya makes his way towards you.

“So you’ve been in hiding this whole time?” You question the man standing in front of you.

“Yeah pretty much” he nods, rubbing the back of his neck “I was supposed to come back for you but you went off the grid. Now I know why”

“Where’s Keigo?” You ask.

“What did that monster do to you?” The blonde reaches out to caress your face but you flinch away. “I’m Keigo, Y/n”

“Some friend reunion we have here” You joke.

When you realize that you were indeed not captivated in some beat down apartment panic sunk in. What if he finds you? What if he’s already sent out people to look for you? What if these were the people he sent out?

“Hey” A single feather lifts your head to look at both of them “Don’t worry your pretty little head. He won’t find you here. And if somehow he does...we’ll just kill him”

Dabi nods his head in agreement. You wrap your arms around both of their bodies with tears running down your face. Keigo leaned into your touch while Dabi just pats your head stiffly.

They tell you to adjust to your new room and get cleaned up as they leave your room. Once Keigo closes your door, he buries his face into his hands.

“Did you see her arms and legs Touya?” He sobs, “She looks like she hasn’t eaten in days”

Dabi places his hand on his lover’s back, guiding him to their shared room. “Don’t cry Keigo. We’ve successfully finished phase one of the plan. We need to get ready for phase two”

———————————

“Ok you two. What’s going on?” You ask your two best friends.

“It’s a surprise y/n, we can’t tell you” The blonde laughs as Touya guided you through the wooded area. The white blindfold did its job at hiding the world from your view. You felt the boy to your right stop walking as the other untied the white cloth.

The view before you was breathtaking. “Happy Birthday Y/N” frosted onto a small cake with balloons tied to tree branches.

“Guys you shouldn’t have” You giggle.

“You’re our best friend Y/N. You’re going to have to get used to celebrating your birthday” Touya scolded.

Little did the three of you know, that was going to be the last time you would be together.

The scene started to change. The woods were engulfed in bright flames, screams were heard in the distance.

“KEIGO!” you scream. “TOUYA!WHERE ARE YOU?”

The smoke covered everything around you. You choked on the thick smoke as you tried to avoid the flames. You scream louder for your friends. But you never found them. You trip and fall over a fallen tree branch. You look up and see your abuser standing over you.

You try to crawl away from him but he catches you by your hair.

“No. Please” you cry. “TOUYA! KEIGO PLEASE HELP”

“Y/n. You can’t escape me” He growls in your ear.

Just seconds before he could throw you against the burning tree, your eyes shoot open as you send icicles flying everywhere. You scream as you feel hands grabbing your own. Your eyesight still blurry from waking up, you swing at the person in front of you. “LET GO. LET GO! GET OFF ME. KEIGO, TOUYA HELP ME”

“Y/n calm down it’s me. It’s Keigo” The blonde whispers. Your eyes frantically search for his. Your body shakes while you sob as you held Keigo’s face in your hands.

“Keigo, where were you? Keigo don’t let him get me please don’t let him get me” You choke out, “I don’t want to go back please don’t send me back. Don’t leave me again, please.”

“He won’t find you baby bird” He cooed. He places your head on his chest as he rubs your hair soothingly. “I’m here now. I’m not leaving again” He stays true to his word and drifts back to sleep with you in his arms.

Touya woke up to an empty bed. Confused, he brushed his teeth and went to check up on you. When he opens your room door he finds you asleep on top of his boyfriend’s chest. His boyfriend, on the other hand, was wide awake. He looks over at the door when he heard the floorboards creak.

“Shh. She had a rough night” He whispers.

“What happened?”

“Night Terror about him. She was screaming our names so I came in to check on her. She almost cut me with an icicle.” Keigo explains.

Touya slides underneath your cover on the other side of you. You stir at the sudden movement which causes Keigo to stop breathing.

“Goodmorning Keigo” you groan, rubbing the sleep from your eyes “and Touya”

“Goodmorning little one” the latter replied, “how are you feeling?”

“Tense” You yawn. You wiggle out of Keigo’s hold and walk towards your duffel bag. “Where’s the bathroom? I’m going to uh..take a shower”

“Across the hall”

You say a quiet thank you and exit your room. The couple let out breaths that they didn’t know they were holding when they hear the shower starts.

“We have to do something. And quick” Keigo whispers “Did Toga and Shigaraki already leave?”

“Yea. They should be back later tonight with our special guest. But for now, we need to calm down y/n”

The water dripped off of your skin as you stepped out of the steamy shower. After drying off, putting on clean clothes, and brushing your teeth, you walk back across the hall to your bedroom. Before you could sit back down on your bed, Keigo’s there with his hand stretched out for you to take.

“Hey, there birdie. Come with me” he says.

You take his hand and followed behind the blonde. He brings you to the kitchen, where a tall shadow man was making lunch.

“Hello young y/n” He spoke “I’m Kurogiri”

“Nice to meet you” You smile faintly. “Keigo I’m not hu-“

“Yes you are y/n” Touya scolds from behind you. “You haven’t eaten since I don’t know when. At least eat the seaweed out of it”

He pulls the chair out for you to sit and sits directly across from you. Keigo takes the seat on side of you as Kurogiri places your bowls in front of you.

“Shoyu Ramen?” You inhale the steam coming from the bowl. It smelled delicious. How long has it been since you had this?

“You always ate this after training and I suspect that you hadn’t eaten a proper meal in-“ Touya was cut off by your loud slurping “years”

“Stalker” You laugh before stuffing your face with more ramen. “So how long have you been watching me?”

“Well, we’ve been looking for you since we turned 20” Keigo answers. “Touya here found you just last week”

Your response was a loud hum as you drank the broth of your meal. You couldn’t help the satisfied sigh that escaped through your lips. The food was just that good.

“I’m kind of grateful that you abducted me when you did. I’d probably still be sitting in that alleyway.”

“Y/n if you don’t mind me asking” Touya begins “How long has he been..”

“6 months” You sigh, “I was dropping Shoto off at home one night and that’s when he took me to the apartment. I had no contact with the outside world. No tv, no phone, not even a god damn newspaper” You felt your quirk activate, causing the water in the glasses before you to boil. “I swear, the next time I see him I’m going to boil the skin off of him”

“Whoa there princess” Keigo uses one of his feathers to rub at your thigh to calm you down. You relax at his touch and bring the raging water to a stop. You grab Keigo’s hand in an attempt to regulate your breathing.

“So what’s the plan?” You ask, “I know you two are up to something”

“It’s a surprise” Touya smirks “you’ll find out after dinner.”

You spent your day sandwiched between the two men in your new bed watching movies, catching up, and enjoying each other’s company. It was strange how you didn’t feel like a complete third wheel. Instead, you felt like you were apart of the relationship and you were happy. You can’t even remember the last time you had a good time like this.

At last, it was dinner time. The two left your room minutes prior to “prepare your surprise” in Keigo’s words. You decided to change your clothes while you waited for the ok to come down. Just as you finished up, one of Keigo’s feathers tapped your shoulder.

You were greeted with blue and yellow eyes when you entered the dining room. Feathers pulled out your chair while the others sat down in their seats.

Fish, rice bowls, and other foods were placed on the table. You ate in silence, mainly because you didn’t want to choke, while the others talked amongst themselves.

“Y/n-Chan” Toga whined “Why are you so quiet over there?”

“The food is so good,” you say after swallowing a mouth full of rice, “I want to eat as much as possible”

Kurogiri nods in your direction at the compliment. Dinner goes on with Dabi and Shigaraki arguing over who’s the strongest and You and Keigo exchanging flirty glances and middle fingers.

“Hey Y/n, Trynna steal my boyfriend?” Touya teases.

“You’re going to have to share Mr. Blueflame” you tease back. Everybody laughs as you two keep going back and forth.

“Alright Alright. Dinners over. Time for your surprise Y/n” Touya announced.

Everybody looked at you with sinister smirks as Keigo helped you out of your seat. You were led to the basement where two seats were on opposite sides of the room with a camera in the middle.

You sat in the chair closest to the door and watched Touya and Shigi bring in someone in handcuffs with a trash bag over their head.

“Guys what’s going…” you stopped talking when Shigaraki dusts the bag off the person’s head. But it wasn’t a person, no.

It was him. The monster that kept you captive for months. The monster that stripped you of your innocence and ruined your life plans. You felt your blood begin to boil as you stood out of your chair.

“Y/n?” The older man groaned. Touya punched him in his jaw before he could speak again.

“Don’t you dare say her fucking name” He spat. He then turned to you with soft(ish) eyes. “Don’t worry. The cuffs are quirk canceling”

“Do your worst baby bird” Keigo whispered into your ear.

You motioned for everyone to move out of the way as you walked towards your new captive. “Remember this face in your next life” You whisper.

You boiled the water in his body and smiled at the bubbles visibly forming on the surface of his skin. As the man before you screams in pain, you walk towards the camera that was recording the whole thing.

“Smile for the camera Enji. Why don’t you tell little Shoto where’d you take me all those months ago. Why I could no longer pick him up from school on Fridays” You toy with the corpse. You watched as blood began to seep through his skin “You’ve always told me to give you what you want. This time it is you who will give me what I want”

“Hey Dabi” Keigo whispered “Is it just me or is Y/N kinda hot when she’s committing murder”

The ravenette nodded at his boyfriend’s statement. You were indeed hot as hell murdering his father. Your abuser. He froze, just as he was about to add a comment, when you spun the camera around to face him and Keigo.

“Say hi Dabi” You smile at the two. “Hi Hawks”

“You’ve officially lost it baby bird”

“I agree. Crazy looks good on you” Touya adds.

You turn the camera off and hand it to Kurogiri. You walk over to the couple with a pout on your face “He’s dead now. My fun’s over”

“Oh no no no” Touya teasingly pulled you into his chest by your waist “The fun is just beginning. Right, Keigo?”

Keigo pushes his groin against your ass and nibbles on your earlobe.“That’s right babe” he whispered “We’re going to help you reclaim what’s yours”

——————-——————

A/n: So there’s smut to this fic😭 but I won’t post it unless this does good. Anyways, HAPPY NEW YEAR.

[dreamiesdotcom]

Okay but what about yandere!reader? With anyone, really!

tw: yandere!reader

Donghyuck fell in love with you for beautiful reasons: the stars in your eyes, the moon in your smile. The daylight pouring out of your words. The kindness in your heart, the softness it held, the way you sung lullabies like playing with the velvet of rose petals.

Not this. The person in front of him is not the person he loved, but a monster.

A monster trapping him inside these empty walls, forced to watch silver draw out red.

"How sad that I couldn't tell you that you looked beautiful tonight, pretty boy," you smile as you bind his wrists together. "You danced so good. You looked so good. It's such a pity that you made me angry."

Donghyuck struggles, but you believe that if he really wanted to, he could escape your grasp. Donghyuck doesn't want to escape, he wants to struggle, to feel helpless. He wants to kiss you deep and taste blood from both your lips. He wants you to cut him deep, to grab his hair, to force him to look at you in the eyes.

Donghyuck wants it — even if he doesn't, he has no choice but to take it. You love him, after all. It won't hurt. It will just remind him that he's yours, solely yours, not even his own person anymore. He wants it. He will want it.

The first strike of the whip hurt, it always does. It looks beautiful, though, the flaming red against sunkissed skin. He looks as delicate as a porcelain doll, and my God, you hope he forgives you, because you want to break him to pieces and mingle his with your own, create dust that are impossible to tell which one belonged to who.

The second, the third and the fourth don't hurt as much. It might be his numbness to it all, used to this. He tries to find his fault — he was just dancing, he was just having fun. He was just being himself and that was perfectly okay for you, at least it seemed with the angelic smile you flashed at him every now and then as you sat with Renjun at the bar.

Tears brim his eyes when you kiss him, and he wonders how he manages to still love you at this moment. He cries, he cries and cries as if there's no tomorrow for him. The tears wouldn't stop. At some point, he worried he'll run out of tears and cry blood instead, but even that thought didn't stop him.

He was grieving, his whole body numb, his mind a mess. Why can't he leave? Why is he being hurt? He cries and laughs and cries again. Why did you have to turn this way?

And why, why did he love you still, even if you turned out like this?

He looks up at you, innocent eyes pleading. He looks in your eyes and searches for stars, only to find red. He searches for your smile, the moonlight one, but instead it's a cruel smirk that he finds. There's no sunlight in your words, only a sharp sting they carried as they slip from your blood stained lips, bloodied from the bite you gave his.

He almost doesn't feel the light cut on his cheeks.

"Do I need to make you ugly for you to be mine, and only mine?" You say, slowly dragging the knife on his glassy skin. "But I like you like this, my love. Won't you just promise to be mine?"

Tears brim his eyes. He nods, pleading through his gaze, and he knows he would kneel if you ask him to. You trace the tip of your knife from his cheek, to his jawline, down to his chest until it rest on top of his stomach.

"They can want you, Donghyuck," you say with a sinister smile, "But if I can't have you, I'll make sure that they never do as well."

[swan-of-sunrise]

Taking Care of Business (Chapter Twelve)

Summary: Din and (Y/N) grow closer after opening up about their pasts, and they begin their search for the Jedi Ahsoka Tano on Corvus.

Pairing: Din Djarin X Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings/Disclaimers: Brief discussion of panic attacks and trauma

A/N: I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Twelve The Past (Previous Chapter)

Since bringing (Y/N) on as his partner, Din had slowly grown used to having someone around to fill the deafening silence; if she wasn’t striking up a conversation with him, the captain was talking to the child or humming to herself while she piloted and worked on her sewing projects. But since leaving Nevarro the day before, she’d been unusually quiet and he suspected that her silence had something to do with what happened inside the Imperial base.

She’s always so considerate when it comes to the feelings of others, Din thought to himself as he recalled how understanding she’d been whenever he opened up to her and how kind she always was towards others, but maybe it’s time someone returns the favor. He switched the ship’s controls onto autopilot before making his way down to the cargo hold; (Y/N) was sitting cross-legged on her makeshift cot and absentmindedly cleaning her blaster, her (Y/E/C) eyes unfocused as she stared off into nothing.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

(Y/N) jumped a little, quickly looking over to where Din was standing and offering him a small smile. “My blaster saw a lot of action yesterday; I wanted to make sure it was ready for whatever we come across on Corvus.”

Din nodded. “Good idea.” He walked over to the open armory, grabbing his pulse rifle and a rag before taking a seat on one of the loose storage containers; they both worked on cleaning their weapons for several quiet moments before Din finally spoke. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

He kept his gaze trained on his work, but he could hear her set aside her blaster and sigh. “You might’ve already figured it out but in the Rebellion, I was one of a few dozen smugglers who was tasked with smuggling civilians off of Imperial-controlled planets and past their blockades. We would visit the cities and villages that were the hardest hit and get as many people off-planet that we could, and the majority of the time our missions succeeded. But…”

When he glanced up, the captain was staring down at the floor with a hardened expression on her face. “But?”

“Sometimes, the Imps would catch wind that we were coming and rather than see civilians fall under the protection of the Rebel Alliance, they’d raze their homesteads and slaughter everyone in them. It’s been years, but I can still remember all those times I’d arrive too late; Stormtroopers used flamethrowers to burn down homes while a battalion shot down anyone who was left standing. As long as I live, I’ll never forget just how bright those flames were.” She looked up at him and he was struck by how weary her eyes looked. He recognized that they were the eyes of someone who’d seen far too many horrors in their lifetime, because they were the same eyes he saw whenever he looked into his battered mirror.

“So when you saw the lava in the heat shaft, all those memories came rushing back.” (Y/N) nodded once before glancing away. “…I know what that’s like.” She quickly turned her attention back to him and he took a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing. “When I was a child, the village my parents and I lived in was attacked by Separatist battle droids; I was saved by the Mandalorians but everyone else…I was the only one who survived. The memories of that day – the explosions, the screams, seeing my mother and father for the last time – would always play through my mind whenever I had new armor forged by my Covert’s Armorer. It’s something I’ve learned to live with, but only because I try focusing on the good; the Mandalorians took me in when I needed a home and they raised me as a foundling, and without their kindness I would’ve died a long time ago.” The damning words of Bo-Katan came to mind but Din quickly pushed them aside; no matter what Creed they followed, the Mandalorians who took him in had helped him survive. “You saved innocent lives during the Rebellion. Thousands of people are alive because of you, alor’ad, and that is what’s important.”

After taking a moment to absorb his words, (Y/N) slowly began to smile; she didn’t say anything, but he could see the understanding in her eyes and he couldn’t help but return her smile beneath his helmet. The sound of his sleeping compartment opening broke the spell and they both turned to see the child blinking the sleep out of his wide eyes.

“Did you have a good nap, little guy?” (Y/N) asked, standing up and making her way over to the compartment; the child responded with a small coo and the captain chuckled, picking him up and glancing over at Din with a widening smile. “Well, I don’t know about you, Mando, but I could do with another sparring session right about now. What do you say?”

Getting to his feet, Din rested his hands on his hips and tilted his helmet as he met her challenging gaze. “Sure, why not? I’m always ready to take on cocky ex-smugglers and win.”

She rolled her eyes and looked down at the child in her arms. “You think I can beat Mando, right?” The child giggled and wrapped a clawed hand around the finger she was tapping his tiny nose with. “That’s what I thought! Mando doesn’t stand a chance, does he, little guy?”

Din watched their interaction with a fond smile on his face and in that moment, he made a decision. “Din.”

“Hmm?” (Y/N) distractedly asked as she glanced up at him. “What was that?”

“My name is Din. Din Djarin.”

While interacting with different cultures on his travels throughout the galaxy, Din had heard his fair share of fairytales and superstitions and although he respected the differing beliefs, he never put much stock in any of them. But in that moment, while he watched the blinding smile stretch across (Y/N)’s face, he could honestly say that he believed in the existence of angels.

“Well, Din Djarin, are you ready to get your ass kicked or what?”

Din couldn’t remember the last time he laughed as hard as he did at that.

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

Hours later, they dropped out of hyperspace and Din piloted the ship towards Corvus while (Y/N) went down to the cargo hold to pack up their supplies. The child sat on top of one of the nearby control panels, staring out the viewport at the stars with widened eyes, and Din couldn’t help but smile sadly when he glanced over at him; if Bo-Katan’s lead on Ahsoka Tano’s correct, then this’ll be the kid’s last ride in the Razor Crest, he thought to himself.

“Corvus. This is the place; I’ve detected a beacon. I’m starting the landing cycle, so you’d better get back in your seat,” Din ordered as he began flicking switches and pressing buttons, looking over and frowning when he saw that the child hadn’t moved. “Hey, what did I tell you?” He gestured with his helmeted head to the passenger seat behind him. “Back in your seat.” With a disgruntled coo, the child clambered off the control panel and over to the passenger seat, and Din tried not to think about how much he was going to miss having the stubborn kid around.

The ship flew through the upper atmosphere and into the smog-filled air of the planet, and they soon landed on the outskirts of the small walled-off city of Calodan. Din and the child climbed down into the cargo hold just as (Y/N) was slinging a knapsack over her shoulders; since they didn’t know what to expect on Corvus, the captain’s blaster was concealed beneath a long-hooded coat and a vibroblade was tucked into her boot.

“Ready to go, alor’ad?”

(Y/N) looked over at him with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes; he knew that she’d grown attached to the child in the short time she’d been with them and it was obvious that she was trying her best to hide her conflicted feelings for the sake of their quest. “Yep! Let’s go find ourselves a Jedi.”

They lowered the ramp of the ship and walked out onto the planet’s surface, Din’s hand resting on the blaster holstered at his hip as he glanced around. The yellow-tinted smog filled the air and surrounding them was a forest of dying trees, among which a couple of creatures were slowly moving. When he turned back to (Y/N), his words died on his lips and his brow furrowed in concern as he took in her stiff expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Something feels…off about this place, Din.” She bit her lip and gave a decisive nod. “I’m gonna go get the little guy’s satchel.”

(Y/N) made her way back into the ship while Din stayed where he was; the longer he looked around, the more uneasy he felt about the planet. The sound of tiny footsteps behind him made him turn around to see the child sitting down on the ramp, his favorite silver sphere clutched in his hands, and he sighed in exasperation. “What did I say about that?” He knelt down and took the sphere from the cooing child, tucking it into the pouch at his waist with a firm head-shake. “This needs to stay on the ship.”

The captain returned a moment later with the satchel in hand and once Din slung it over his head, she helped him place the child in it. “You won’t be in here too long, little guy, just until we know that everything’s safe.” She ran a hand over the child’s wrinkled head and looked up at Din, a small crease forming between her brows. “You feel it too, right?”

Din nodded, resting a comforting hand on the small of his partner’s back as he urged her forward. “Let’s head into town, alor’ad, see if we can pick up a lead.”

As they started towards the city of Calodan, Din’s gloved hand dropped back to his side and he found himself clenching and unclenching it, silently wishing that he could’ve left it where it was. His impulsive decision to place her hand on the skin of his face back on Nevarro had plagued him; he tried focusing on other things, but all he could truly think of was the feeling of her soft hand on his cheek. Her touch had ignited something within him, and he’d quickly come to realize that he wanted nothing more than to be close to (Y/N); it was torture, especially during their sparring sessions, but he tried his damnedest to keep his hands to himself and remain focused on their quest.

They neared the gates of Calodan and Din’s eyes were instantly drawn to the three guards standing on the wall above; stopping in front of the gate, they both looked up as one of the guards stepped forward and called down, “State your business.”

“Been tracking for a few days,” Din called back, careful to keep the child hidden behind his cape. “We’re looking for a layover.”

The guard who’d addressed them raised his brows, seemingly impressed at the sight of them. “Nice armor. You a hunter, then?”

Din nodded once. “That’s right.”

“Guild?”

Gritting his teeth in annoyance, Din replied, “Last I checked.”

The guard’s eyes flicked over to (Y/N). “And you?”

“I’m his pilot,” (Y/N) confidently called back. “And his business partner.”

After several tense moments, the guard nodded and glanced over at one of his companions. “Open the gate.”

The gates slowly opened and the two of them walked inside, acutely aware that the gate had been closed behind them. Beside him, (Y/N) adjusted her fingerless gloves and mumbled under her breath, “Not exactly keen on strangers, are they?”

Din didn’t answer but he silently agreed; the further they traveled into the city, the more apparent it became that something wasn’t right. The people they passed on the street ducked their heads to avoid eye contact, some even darting into their homes before they could walk by, and the few vendors there were eyed the two them with caged expressions on their faces. This doesn’t seem like the sort of place a Jedi would live, he thought to himself as his brow furrowed.

Gesturing for the captain to follow, Din slowly approached a vendor on his right. “Pardon me, vendor, have you heard of anyone…” His words died in his throat when the vendor abruptly walked away and he turned to (Y/N), who’s frown had only deepened as her eyes looked past him towards the alleyway. Confused, he turned to see an older man and two small children in the shadows of the alley; the man was giving the children food and quietly speaking to them, and Din figured that he might be easier to speak to. “You there, we need some information.” He and (Y/N) stepped closer to the man as he got to his feet. “My partner and I are looking for someone.”

The man frowned in displeasure, turning to say something to the two children and watching them run off before turning back to them with a frightened look in his eyes. “Please, do not speak to them, or to any of us.”

“Look, we just need to know-”

(Y/N)’s gentle words were interrupted by a gruff voice. “The Magistrate wants to see you.” They both turned to see two masked guards behind them, whose hands were clutching their blasters as they stared them down. Clenching his jaw tightly, Din followed one of the guards down the city’s main road and he was mindful of the guard trailing close behind them. At the end of the road was a large guarded gate and flanking each side of the road were elevated cages, inside which were people groaning out in pain. Their cries were punctuated by the distinct sounds of electric shocks and Din averted his gaze from the sickening sight.

“Help us!”

“She’ll kill us all!”

Beside him, (Y/N) stopped dead in her tracks and stared up at the prisoners nearest to her; the captain’s horrified expression instantly reminded Din of the look that had come across her face just before her panic attack back on Nevarro, so he was quick to get her attention. “(Y/N)? Alor’ad, c’mon…” He urged, and her eyes lingered on the prisoners for a moment before she looked forward and fell in step with him.

The guards opened the gate and allowed them to walk through into a beautiful garden; they stood on a narrow stone walkway over a large pond that was surrounded by countless trees and plants, a stark contrast to the dilapidated city that they’d just walked through. Near the end of the walkway stood a woman dressed in the robes of a magistrate; a droid guard stood several steps away as she tossed food into the calm waters of the pond for an unknown creature.

“Come forward,” The woman called out, and Din and (Y/N) exchanged a look before complying. They came to a stop closer to her, but she didn’t look up from her work as she continued. “You are a Mandalorian?”

“Yes.”

“And the woman?”

A fiery look in her eyes, (Y/N) snapped back, “I’m his partner. What business do you have with us?” In any other circumstance, Din would’ve been captivated by the captain’s authoritative tone but he was concerned that her aggression would only serve to raise tensions.

The magistrate looked over at the pair, her brow raised in curiosity as her eyes examined them. “I have a proposition that may interest you two.”

Din’s eyes narrowed underneath his helmet. “Our price is high.”

“This target is priceless.” The magistrate countered. “A Jedi plagues me. I want you to kill her.”

Ahsoka Tano, Din thought to himself, an unsettling feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. (Y/N) stiffened beside him and he found himself slowly replying, “That’s…a difficult task.”

“One that you’re well-suited for. The Jedi are the ancient enemy of Mandalore.”

Din suppressed his sigh of frustration and shrugged. “As I said, our price is high.”

The magistrate gestured for the droid guard to come closer, accepting the long metal spear from it and holding it out towards Din. “What do you make of this?”

Together, Din and (Y/N) stepped forward and he hesitated a moment before accepting the spear; it was lighter than it appeared and when he tapped it against his vambrace, a familiar ringing echo filled the garden. “Beskar.”

“Pure beskar, like your armor. Kill the Jedi and it’s yours.”

He bit his bottom lip, a trait seemingly picked up from his partner, before gruffly replying, “Where do we find this Jedi?”

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

The two of them were escorted back through the city to the main gate, their eyes trained on the guard in front of them while they walked past the caged prisoners and frightened residents. Once at the gate, the guard stood beside them and wrinkled his nose when he spotted the child’s head poking out of his satchel.

“What is that thing?”

Din’s nostrils flared in anger but he kept his voice level as he replied, “I keep it around for luck.”

The guard shrugged his shoulder. “Well, you’re gonna need it where you’re headed.” His eyes drifted away from Din to focus on (Y/N). “You got a good luck charm too, sweetheart?”

“I make my own luck,” The captain answered tersely and Din urged her forward before either of them could do anything to the guard that they’d end up regretting later. Once they were far enough away from the city’s gate, (Y/N) heaved a frustrated sigh. “Nice wordplay back there; you got the Jedi’s last known location without agreeing to the deal. But that magistrate…I don’t know if she’s Imperial or not but as soon as we find Ahsoka Tano, I’m going back and helping those people.”

Looking over at (Y/N), Din gave her a firm nod. “You won’t be alone.”

The three of them slowly made their way through the barren landscape of Corvus; Din’s pulse rifle was clutched in his hand and (Y/N) had drawn her blaster, but neither of them spotted any signs of the elusive Jedi. After about an hour of hunting, Din detected a faint rustling in the distance and was quick to place his free hand on the captain’s arm to halt her; he gestured towards the line of dead trees before them and she silently nodded, taking his pulse rifle and slinging it over her shoulder. Din took the child out of his satchel, setting him down on a nearby boulder before pulling out his scope and scanning the horizon. He didn’t spot anything at first but when he looked harder, he finally noticed the two large creatures peacefully grazing in the distance.

“False alarm,” Din sighed, lowering his scope and tucking it back into his pouch. “I-”

(Y/N)’s warning shout mixed with a loud electric hum made him spin around, reflexively bringing up his arm to deflect the two laser swords that were bearing down on his helmeted head. The laser sword-wielding Togruta continued attacking and it was all Din could do to block her strikes with his vambraces; the moment he found an opening, he activated his flamethrower and aimed it at the Jedi, watching as she blocked the flames with her cloak and flipped out of the way. Just as her feet touched the ground, he shot his grappling hook at her and bound her arms to her sides, but the Jedi merely smiled and jumped straight into the air. She flipped over a tree branch high above and pulled him up with her, forcing him to quickly cut himself loose.

Din drew his blaster and turned, bringing his free hand up in a placating gesture as he shouted, “Ahsoka Tano!” The Jedi froze, her laser swords still raised. “Bo-Katan sent me. We need to talk.”

Ahsoka’s blue eyes looked past him and her brow furrowed as she deactivated her laser swords. She slowly straightened her posture, and Din decided it was safe to holster his blaster when she glanced back at him with the ghost of a smile on her lips. “I hope it’s about him.”

He turned, following her gaze to where the child sat atop the boulder and hurrying forward when he spotted (Y/N) clambering to her feet beside it. “You okay, alor’ad?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” With a smile of thanks, (Y/N) accepted his hand and stood, wincing a little as she rubbed the small of her back. “Some kind of force pushed me back before I could draw my blaster…”

“Sorry about that,” The Jedi walked up to them and held out her hand towards the captain. “Ahsoka Tano.”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N).” The two women shook hands and (Y/N) glanced over at Din with a melancholy look in her eyes. “It looks like our quest’s just about over.”

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A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading!

Mando'a Translations: Alor'ad-Captain

Chapter Thirteen

Taking Care of Business Masterlist

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