#day three drabble

[willowser]

after you and katsuki have the "baby talk", you're being wrapped up in him in bed and your toes are curled and you can feel the nerves tingling even in the tips of your fingers and you're shuddering through the aftershocks of a GREAT orgasm and he's so close and fucking you so deeply and lovingly and he sits up suddenly, back on his knees, to ask—

"'kay, 'm not," he's breathing so hard, skin tan and gleaming with sweat, and you don't know if he notices, but his hands are shaking when he rests them on your thighs. "'m not pullin' out, right?"

you try to swallow and your throat is dry, the nerves in your belly buzzing for a different reason. "yeah," you breathe, shifting your hips absently, yearning for the friction when he hisses and holds you still. "i mean, unless you...want to."

"d'you want me to?"

and despite the fact that you just had this conversation—you feel shy, suddenly, a little flustered at the thought that he's, essentially, putting a baby in you.

but katsuki swallows hard and wets his lips and he's flushed, in the low light of your bedroom. it could be from all the activity, sure, but his own end is coming a lot sooner than it usually does and you have an idea why that might be.

"no," you tell him, honestly, "not really."

before he can finish letting out his sharp exhale, he's back on you, cradling your face in his hands as he speaks, breathless, against your lips. "fine by me."

(and it doesn't take much more than that.)

[thewritersaddictions]

Day Three: Rick Grimes + Bondage.

He had promised you he'd try anything you asked him for, whether that was simply getting home or something more serious. He would try his hardest to give it to you.

Rick knows that you give your all. You are the perfect image of a wonderful person, a wonderful stepmother to Carl, but most of all, you are a wonderful wife. One who craves to be one with Rick. You two are the power couple of Alexandria.

You think that your wants expisally this want would be denied. You all have gone through too much trauma to deal with this sort of request. Yet the idea plays over and over in your head. The thought of riding Rick while his arms are bound above his head. Tied to the metal frame of the old bed, the way you'd hope he'd beg for your mercy as you tried not to give into his demands.

Secretly wishing that he'd somehow break the bounds around his wrist and flip the two of you over, his cock wedged into your soft walls. You'd love the feeling of the air being punched from your lungs as Rick fucked you with an unforgiving pace, nothing less for his girl.

So that's what happened. Asking Rick to let you have utter and complete control. The bedroom window shades are drawn, and the bedside table lamp brings warmth to the room. A sexy black lingerie number hugs your curves as you sit on Rick's lap. You ensured Rick was comfortable before grabbing and looping the rope around the metal bedframe.

Rick had laid down the minute after the question hit the air around the both of you. Muscles bludge as you move his arms above his head and wrap the rope around his wrists.

A few re-tying of the rope and a few violent shakes of Rick's writs, and he's bound. Unable to touch you or kiss you. Your hips move at an unforgiving, slow pace. His cock pulses from the rolling of your hips.

It's not until you pull Ricks's length from out of his boxers and tease yourself with the bulbous head of his cock do you start to wish that there weren't ropes tied around his wrists. Instead, he could just do the work for you. Slip into your slick wallls, and fuck you at whatever pace he wants.

Except that's not what's happening. Instead, your legs sit on either side of his thighs and slowly work down the length of his cock with ease. Letting every ridge and vein be felt. "Fuck, sweetheart." He murmurs with tightly shut eyes and breathing that's got no rhyme to it at all.

Your hands fall to his chest as your boobs bounce in his face. Teasing him further. The echo of skin slapping and soft moans fall around the two of you. With your slow pace, you start to thrive as the aching need for more of Rick sets in. Nails digging into Rick's hairy chest and lips barely grazing each other.

"God Fucking Damn it, darling, Ride me, baby, that's it." Rick's voice is smooth like butter, easing you further into your euphoric trance. Your hips shake as your bounce on his cock, unwilling to give either of you a reprise of the delicious feeling coating both of your bodies.

You don't let Rick's binds go until your face is pressed into Rick's chest's hot skin, and your breathing has slowed down. His wrists are bare a little from the constant tuggin' to be able to touch you. You press kisses into the sensitive skin, apologizing for wrapping the rope too tight around his wrist. "Don't you dare apologize darlin?. I loved every single second of that, now about how we go take a bath."

Completed on: 07/20/24

Posted on: 10/03/24

Kinktober 24-

[miscellaneoussmp]

The desert is cold. The river is freezing. Bad helps Max into the boat. "Thank you for everything, Bad." This is goodbye. Bad, despite centuries of practice, was never good at goodbyes. "I should be thanking you, really. Will you say hi to Dan and Trumpet for me?" Max nods, "Of course." With that, the boat begins to float down the river. Now, it's time for Bad to make the journey back.

The desert is cold. The desert is usually barren. Bad doesn't expect to run into anyone. The voices he hears belong to Mouse, Baghera, and Antoine. Mouse is holding out a lantern that flickers with blue flame. Baghera waves him over. Pol is with them. "What are you four doing?" Bad doesn't get the chance to ask questions like this, usually. "Oh! We're-" She points between her and Pol, "taking my shortcut home, then I'm giving them my lantern." Bad turns his sight to Antoine and Baghera. "We're going to look for Pomme." Antoine voice has a hopeful tilt to it. "Is that a good idea?" Bad is back to looking at Mouse. "It wasn't originally mine, so it should be fine." She just shrugs.

"Alright. Just don't get lost, okay?" Bad watches as the small group walks off with a few waves. "Same to you!" Baghera calls as they get further and further away.

The desert is cold. The pale sands shift. Bad notices a flame. Foolish is sitting by his fireplace. The flame is a perfect orange. He smiles. "You just missed them." Bad takes a moment to realize what Foolish means, but the echoing sound of Forever's voice makes it obvious. "I hope they don't get lost." Bad is still standing. "I gave them each a torch. They should be fine." Foolish grabs a stick from the edge of the fire. "You should take one, too." He offers the makeshift torch to Bad. "I'll be fine without one." The look on the other's face is unreadable.

There's a few moments of silence between the two. Bad is still standing. "I'm going to continue heading back. Do you want to come with?" Bad asks, but he knows the answer already. Foolish looks up from tending the fire. There is no heat to the flame. "I'm staying here just in case, but Bad, listen to me. Don't get lost." There's a seriousness to Foolish's voice that he rarely hears. Bad starts to walk away. "I won't. I won't..."

The desert is cold. The wind blows. Bad hears laughter. A welcome sound against the near silence typical of the desert. "Bad! Hey!" Tina's the one to call him over to the group. She's holding a lantern close in front of her chest. Her other hand is hovering just to the side of the lantern, attempting to protect it from the wind. The flame flickers from a blue to an orange. Tina isn't alone, far from it. Jaiden walks up to stand next to her. She has her hands folded behind her head. Bad can see Mariana holding a torch up. The flame flickers from an orange to a blue. His other hand is holding Charlie's. "Are you doing okay?" Jaiden asks. She isn't holding a flame, but Tina's is enough for both of them. "I'm fine, I'm good." Tina looks worried, as does Jaiden. He's fine. Bad can't think of any reason they'd be worried.

Missa soon joins them, along with Niki. He has a lantern chained around his waist. It flickers blue. It's enough for two, like Tina's own. Missa also seems worried. His eyes dart between Tina, Mariana, and Bad. "We're heading home if you want to join us?" 'Are you lost?' is the unsaid question. "I'm fine, I know the way. Mouse has a shortcut if you see her." That seems like important information to pass along. Mariana and Charlie seem to get further away. "Well then, we'll see you later?" Tina, ever the optimist. "You will, don't worry." Bad manages a smile. Tina waves goodbye, so she isn't left behind by her group. She catches up to Niki and Missa.

The desert is cold. The water is poisoned. He isn't lost. He doesn't need a flame. Bad is an amazing liar, as always.

—

(Part 1)(Part 2)

[popponn]

a seat beside you. [isagi yoichi x reader]

notes: reader's gender unspecified, however mentioned to wear make up to cover up eyebags.

Isagi Yoichi doesn't really pay attention to many things that are not soccer. But, it was hard not to notice things about his seatmate. The one who was seated a few centimeters away from him every day—

You, the star student everyone relies on.

He knew that this was a way for his teachers to scold him to pay more attention to the class. Because if not so, then there was no reason to purposely put him—a student who is mediocre at most and forgetting assignments at worst—next to a perfect record of equally perfect scores like you. But, it wasn't as if it was a bad thing.

You helped Yoichi a lot by pointing at his textbook to where the teacher was explaining whenever he blanked out, explaining some parts on breaks when he asked, and even at some point you started to teasingly remind him about the homework through text.

All in all, you were very pleasant to have.

But, it truly was hard to not notice some things about you too as time went on.

Sometimes, your shoulder sagged and you had a faraway look on your face. At other times, your laugh comes out just a bit too stilted than usual. And just recently, the eyebags you hid under a tiddly applied makeup started to show up even more often.

At some point, to him, it became so easy to tell whenever you push yourself too much.

Yoichi was not quite sure he was close enough to ask you about things like this. He is just some classmate who happened to have his seat beside you and your number saved in his phone. He was also definitely not the best at reaching out to people effortlessly without any hint of awkwardness. Yoichi's anxious heart urged him to just stay silent—and it would not be wrong. He was simply not crossing the line of 'classmates' between the two of you.

But, it also felt wrong to do that.

You are a kind person. Yoichi didn't know many things about you, but you are indeed someone who helped him even when you didn't have to. You are also the only one who cared enough to ask him about his practice and how he was doing in class—it felt wrong to just ignore everything and watch you keep up the act in silence for whatever reason you might had.

That was why, during that Friday, Yoichi braved himself to ask you, his tone shushed, even as the class started to grow emptier.

"Hey, listen, you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but... are you okay? You look tired recently, so..."

And when he got a tired smile and a nervous laugh from you, let out through sagged shoulders and a long sigh with a hint of relief mixed in it, Yoichi felt so glad he chose to.

notes: isagi is an observant person, and there are some people who keep up the "mask" more than anyone else. but don't you think when you are in close proximity with someone every day, you can't really help but notice things about them? isagi is very soccer-headed, but he is kind and not an ungrateful person i think. this thing is a bit more mellow than my usual ones since the main feeling here is "ah, someone who keeps up a mask a lot of time contrasts isagi a lot. but if you think about it, isn't someone like isagi a good match for someone like that too in some degree?". also at the time when i wrote this, my feelings were a bit heavy, but in the end, i still enjoy writing even under such a feeling. I hope to come back to this idea again one day. in the tone of 'developing romance' and such, especially with isagi who seems to understand how it was to accommodate other people. i will think more about this premise again someday, it seems fun to explore more. all in all, think of it as another "more of a prologue meet cute" thing.

[starscoffeecreamer]

Bee using his scary dog privileges wisely and lets Blitzwing have his fun eating and offlining sexist bots who try to demean him for being a mini bot

this is what I imagine happens

edit: I quite enjoy drawing low quality doodles tbh so they're available to be asked for

[rivalmelty]

they are fukuzawa’s boys, adopted twins, and menaces to the yokohama police

(pls do not tag as beast)

[whumpshots]

Whumptober #3

Trope of the day: "I warned you"

_

"I warned you," Whumpee whimpers.

Whumper kneels in front of them, chest heaving, blood gushing out of their wound as their sight gets more and more unfocused.

They did.

They told them to not come too close.

But Whumper didn't take them seriously, an injured kid with nothing more but empty words. At least they thought so.

The words weren't empty, their strength not to mess with. And yet, Whumper feels proud, a smirk forming on their blood smeared lips.

"You warned ... and yet, I won," they croak and spit some blood in front of the other's feet. "You've proven me right that you are a monster as well."

Whumper scoffs and falls to the side, their blood loss making it impossible to sit upright. Their body gets weaker and weaker, but they do not care.

Whumpee warned them, but they have won.

[myers-meadow]

Tav visits Haarlep after the incubus just finished up having a particular rough session with someone and Tav immediately abandons whatever intentions brought them to the boudoir and tends to Haarlep once it becomes clear that no aftercare occurred. 🐾

oh bless, that's so sweet. Someone to consider his needs above all? Incredible. That's the sort of care he deserves <3.

Even with aftercare, I think he'd often been the one giving, not receiving. Some pampering to set that right, is definitively in order.

Running a bath, his favourite scented oils, a gentle back rub, and then falling asleep listening to you read Raphael's dairy out loud as a bed time story... :) This situation is intimate and unexpected enough that it may even get a "what did I do to deserve you?" out of him <3.

Alright; lil drabble (divider by saradika-graphics)

Haarlep found you as he returned, bone tired, to the boudoir. That was intense. Not the most pleasant either, but pleasant has received new meaning after meeting you, so that's hardly a fair standard.

"Hey love," you reach up to press a kiss to his cheek. "You doing alright?"

"What a pleasure to see you pay me a visit," he flirted, shamelessly, flaunting his body as usual as he dragged himself over to the healing pool.

"You don't look that fine to me." You follow him, your armour clanking on the floor behind you as you go. The water smells like cherry, Raphael's favourite. It'll have to do, as your love doesn't seem patient enough to wait for you to run another bath. The water parts before him, the crystal blue contrasting against the red of his skin, and he sinks in deep.

"Just tired."

"Don't tell me you pulled a muscle." you joke, keeping your tone lighthearted. "Would Raphael feel that one too?"

The incubus snorts. "I'm sure you know of a way to make me feel better."

Sex. Everything always seemed to be about sex to him. A lot was, sure. But not tonight. You settle behind him, up to your shoulders in the water. It's always the perfect temperature, a hot bath is truly a luxury. The sponge drips water on his shoulders, beading like glass against his oiled skin. With gentle circles, you wash him. He hums, and after a while, his eyes sink shut. Smiling as you watch him, you take your time to enjoy this moment.

"Lean your head back," you say, softly. He does, and his hair is next. When you're done, you climb onto his lap, the incubus' skin hotter than the water, and bring your hands to his face. His eyes open slowly, blinking like a cat, and his arms snake around your waist.

"Am I being pampered? My my..."

"You wish," you retort, "I'm just trying to get my fill of how delicious you are when you keep your mouth shut." To soothe the sting of your playful teasing, you peck a kiss on his lips.

His laughter rings through the boudoir. "Very well. I'll indulge you."

[spinedog]

Ramble prompt: How do you train something as panicky as a horse to be chill around firefights?

Drabble prompt: Yang reads one of Blake's books to try and be closer to her.

Earplugs and a bullwhip.

No, really. Obviously I've never trained a horse for a firefight, but I know people that compete in mounted shooting and the process would be basically the same - just desensitizing to noise. First step is optional but probably for the best; get horse comfortable with stuffing a big cotton ball or an actual equine earplug into its ears for increasingly longer periods of time. Once horse behaves normally with earplugs in, do groundwork with someone else cracking a bullwhip, move on to riding once everything is chill. Once horse is comfortable with that, fire gun with blanks in horse's vicinity - by this time, horse probably won't mind the noise, and you can probably go on to shooting off the horse's back. If at any point the horse freaks out, stay calm and go back a step, and anticipate that for any random reason the horse could panic about it.

It's honestly not a hard process, depending on the horse - I owned a colt that deadass didn't react to a bullwhip being cracked around him. We had to make sure he wasn't deaf after that, and he wasn't, just unbothered by most things.

---

Blake knew Yang hadn't fallen asleep right away. Given, the lack of a revving chainsaw in the bunk above her head was a bit of a giveaway. She'd gone to sleep without giving it much thought. Then, when she awoke at three in the morning and found out she'd forgotten to leave a glass of water, she noticed that Yang wasn't in bed at all.

She had plenty of friends in Beacon, Blake reasoned as she grabbed the empty glass and headed for the door. Still, anxiety gnawed at her. Should she have checked in on Yang?

The door opened into the light of the hallway, and Blake's thoughts abruptly cleared.

Yang stared up at her from the floor, seated against the wall with a book in her hands. For a moment, they just stared at each other. Blake slowly closed the door. "Guessing you couldn't sleep?"

"No." Red coloured Yang's cheeks, an alien sight in itself. "Ah, Tai used to tell us to find a book and leave our bedrooms to read if we couldn't sleep. So, I um. I'm sorry, I should have asked first."

Blake's confusion broke quickly. Yang had borrowed a book. Truth be told, she wouldn't have minded, but... which one had she grabbed? Blake dragged her gaze to the cover.

The Man with Two Souls.

A relieved laugh broke from her chest. "You chose right - skip to chapter four, half of it is a description of a room. You'll be asleep in two minutes."

Yang's smile still looked sheepish, but she laughed. "Thanks. It's less boring than I thought it would be, which is kind of a problem, I'll skip there."

Blake cocked her head. "Oh?" She knew for sure the book was boring, at least the beginning was. The rest got more interesting once you realized there was a murder mystery afoot.

Yang shrugged. "Just not what I usually read I guess."

Tiredness dragged at Blake's eyes and her ability to socialize was fading. "I, uh. I'd better-"

"Don't let me keep you." Yang's gaze fell back to the pages. "I'll be in there soon."

Blake thought she could feel eyes on her as she walked down the hallway. But, once she'd filled the glass, drank half of it, filled it again, and walked back, Yang was still looking at the book.

"Goodnight." Blake said, a bit automatically, as she passed.

"Night Blake." Yang replied, looking up to smile at her.

Maybe it was coincidence. But as Blake opened the door and Yang looked back down, she glanced back at the book itself.

There was a highlighted passage on the page. She knew she'd only done that a couple times in this particular book - short passages about the rage hidden within one of the personalities, why it made him do what it did. Mirrors of another man, with one personality that was comprised of little more than spite. More importantly, it was more than halfway through the book. Why was Yang...

It was late, and she didn't have the energy. So Blake kept walking through the door, gently closing it, and crawled back into bed.

As she drifted back away, Blake wondered if Yang had chosen the book at random, or if she remembered it was the one she'd been reading when they first met. And if, maybe, she was trying to learn rather than fall asleep.

Blake was asleep before she could give the idea any more thought.

You can let me ramble in exchange for a drabble here!

[onsideramen]

One Step Away.

DRAGONS RISING SEASON 2 PART 1 SPOILERS AHEAD.

Also, quick TW: Choking, Death.

This is a little silly fic that I'll be posting to AO3 later probably ;3

(KAIS FEAR SCENE IN THE CAVE REAL OMG???!?!?!?!?!? Character study :3)

Kai stared ahead, determined to reach the end of the cave- he needed to, after all. The flame in his hand flickered, faltering before extinguishing itself into small puffs of ash.

The Fire Master turned his attention to his hand, snapping it a few times in a fruitless attempt to get the flame back. He groaned when it didn't work, turning around to the others and-

...Where were they?

Kai squinted, seeing nothing but a cloud of darkness. He took a step forward, worry squeezing his heart tightly. He didn't need to worry, not yet- but how could he not? A few months would never be enough to meld that torn piece of him back together, that piece of him that wondered if he'd simply finally given to insanity, seeing nothing but hallucinations.

He shook his head quickly, not letting his thoughts drag him under. This moment was real, he was certain- and he was certain his family was not within his sight.

"Lloyd?" Kai called into the darkness, voice steady despite the worry dripping from him in borderline solar flares. He frowned at the lack of response, moving his flameless hands to cup his mouth. "Nya! Lloyd!"

Again, no response.

The worry was practically tearing him apart inside out now- something he would likely never admit. Kai walked further back into the cave, attempting to locate the others. If he was mildly frantic about it, no he wasn't.

Kai came to a halt at the sound of what could almost be called a scream.

One that he was far too familiar with.

Kai whipped around, already falling into a defensive stance as he watched Lloyd run to him, tears streaming down his face. The Fire Master didn't comprehend how young he looked in that moment, as if he were a confused and scared 11-year-old again.

It didn't matter how he looked, not at all- and it never would. It was Lloyd. His brother. Someone he swore he would always protect. Pulling Lloyd closer to him before adjusting his stance to be semi-in front of the younger came almost as second nature.

Kai watched closely as something slunk out of the darkness, towering over him. The thing smirked, a hand coming out from behind it.

The thing held Nya by the neck, she flailed around for a moment, trying to pry the thing away from her neck so she could, most likely, breathe.

The Fire Masters eyes widened, stance faltering for just a moment before his expression hardened. Sparks filtered from his fists.

"Let her go."

The thing sneered at Kai, its devoid face crinkling into something akin to disgust before tightening its grip. Nya squirmed for a moment before beginning to wheeze, her attempts to pry the things hand from her neck growing weaker and weaker.

Kai stared, pulse buzzing violently under his skin.

His blocked flames bristled, a blazing inferno deep in his core.

And he lunged.

He lunged for the thing, anger in every grab and tear at the monster.

Rip.

Tear.

Rip.

Tear.

"LET HER GO!" He screamed, eyes burning as his attacks grew more and more helpless.

The thing snickered despite its current state, amusement in its unforgiving eyes.

Kais' anger only grew, the inferno raging until it obscured any rational thought he could've had. Unshed tears clogged his eyes, limbs trembling as he tried to withhold himself from killing the thing. A mercy it didn't deserve.

And then he was on the other end of the cave, gasping in gulps of air, dizzy, with an unbreathing sister beside him. His inferno sizzled out, water dimming it to a few half-hearted sparks. The shaking of his limbs increased tenfold, his tears finally boiling over and burning his cheeks.

"KAI!" Lloyd- oh, oh FSM wasn't he protecting him-

Kai threw himself onto his feet, looking a complete mess as he watched in what felt almost like slow motion as The Thing dragged his younger brother further into the darkness, a snicker echoing the cave before something zapped him.

Kais' mind had to do a double take on that last thing, actually. He was staring at the stone floor of the cave, shaking mildly- but there were no tears in his eyes, as if they'd been boiled away.

He was zapped.

Zapped?

Was Jay nearby? Oh, FSM. How would he ever explain all this- he couldn't handle The Lightning Ninja right now-

No, no. It would be a good thing if he was there now, wouldn't it?

Kai was pulled to his senses by the sound of the others talking. The others. Lloyd and Nya. His family. His siblings.

He inhaled shakily, trying to wipe what must have been a horrified expression off of his face, then stood up.

They were alive.

[compacflt]

idk if this question has already been answered or not but idrc, would your ice have considered it "talking about it" to admit his physical attraction towards mav? like calling him beautiful or genuinely complementing him. this goes for mav too

i do feel post debriefing ice would call mav beautiful openly or some sappy bs like that

love your writing 💌

anon i need you to know this ask was so cute it made me physically nauseous. i was sick all week thinking about how cute this ask was. thank you for sending it.

i actually had a couple drabbles where yes ice both pre- and post-TGM mission is like yeah im physically attracted to you, but it’s less like “oh my god you’re so hot 😍” and more like “i mean, yeah, you objectively look like tom cruise so it’s not like i really have a choice.”

but “beautiful” specifically i had not thought of, and it has knocked me off my feet and made me go feral/rabid/undomesticated for a few days straight, so i will be writing something about this. thanks.

[game-weaver]

Requiem of a Soul Room

Despite feeling like he hadn't done much at all, aside from get eaten by a tree, Yugi had been pretty tired. Maybe it was from his magic that was going unchecked, or purely because of the gut wrenching fear he went through, but either way, snuggling up into Atem's arms for the night was the only place he wanted to be. Thankfully, as his mind sleepily wondered over their discussion of soul rooms, he slipped into the darkness of sleep fairly quickly.

Until he inhaled sharply and awoke in bed. Rubbing his eyes, he groaned, not knowing how long he had been asleep. "Ate'?" But he was alone. Blinking, he looked around, had he gotten up in the middle of the night? That had to be right?

Stifling a yawn, he swung his legs out of bed and got up. Trying to shake the sleep off, he stumbled over to where the lightswitch was, tripping over something along the way. Flipping the light on, he looked at the floor, tilting his head in confusion when he saw it was a chess board. When did that get there?

Looking around again, he noted other things scattered about while Atem was still no where to be seen. Puzzles, a board game here or there neatly tucked away, a couple stuffed animals…Something clicked. He was dreaming, had he successfully gotten into his soul room? He felt awfully awake for dreaming, and normally if someone realized they were dreaming they woke up, right? At least, that's how he thought it was supposed to go.

Well, if it was a dream, then there was no danger here right? No reason to be afraid as he explored it. There was his bed and the games he had noted, no windows, a floor length mirror rested against one wall, and on the other a curtain covered something. The wallpaper, now that he looked at it, seemed weathered, decaying along the ceiling and starting to peel. And the games on the worn wooden floor were covered in dust.

That made him sad for some reason.

Going to the curtain first he noted it, too, was quite dusty and chewed as if moths somehow had feasted on it. Taking hold of it, he pulled it to the side and couldn't understand what he was seeing. It was a door, but it was barricaded, boarded up with thick nails and chains, as if Yugi had been keeping something out. He wondered why? Why would he do that?

For now, he left it alone and wandered carefully around the games and by a desk, dragging trails through the ash and mildew with his fingertips as he went. Going to the mirror, he noticed this side of the room was a bit darker, as if the light couldn't quite reach it fully. Wiping the dirt and grime covered surface with his palm, he tilted his head at the eyes staring back him. His eyes, violet with gold flecks, seemed sharper than he remembered.

Continuing to clean the tarnished surface of the mirror, a shiver suddenly went down his spine, as if he was being watched. Movement caught his eye and he realized that there was suddenly grass under his feet, vines growing from behind the mirror and around its edges, digging roots into the wall and further tearing the rotten wallpaper.

"What-"

When he looked back at his reflection he realized the one staring back at him was… Different. Pointed ears and pale as the moon skin, eyes that were sharp and mischievous bore into his own…And wings that rustled against his back. Yugi's eyes widened as he suddenly felt like a fist gripped his heart.

Stop. Running.

It shattered. Shards of mirror and glass rained around him, slicing at his hands and face as Yugi covered his head with a yelp. Light poured in from beyond the mirror and he could faintly hear the sounds of wind in trees…But before he could look up and see what was on the other side, the floor keened and cracked, giving way and suddenly all he could hear was his own scream as he fell.

Air left his lungs in a rush as he slammed onto a cold, hard surface. His vision spun as he writhed in pain, curling up tightly as pain raced down his back. Managing to get onto his knees, he tried to figure out where he was, but all he saw were iron bars and all he heard was horrific laughter.

No…No-

His heart was in his throat and he couldn't scream, couldn't cry out for help, it was like he was paralyzed. Hands reached for him from all angles, the flash of a blade in one hand and he knew he was going to die-

With a crack of thunder and a blinding light that shredded all around him, Yugi shot up in bed, skin slick with sweat and panting. Scrambling out of bed he practically ran for the light…

Only to see his normal room. Everything where it was supposed to be. His door was normal, there was no mirror, early morning sunlight was filtering through the windows, and Atem laid in bed where he had left him.

Covering his mouth with a shaking hand, he tried to make sense of the dream.

He felt like he was going to be sick.

[artisticmesses]

Selfshiptober Day 1: Confession | Night

summary: Arata catches up with Mikoto after he gets out of work, the rain that comes after encourages Arata to say what he really feels.

word count: 914 words, 5,126 characters

a/n: this fic was based off of the prompt list by @/sennamybeloved! you can check out the prompt list here. also i promised @mukuberry fluff so…

”Hey, Mii-kun, wait up!” Arata would run after him, panting heavily as the painter didn’t go outside much and was carrying bags of freshly bought paint.

“Oh! Ara-kun, hey! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Mikoto smiled, turning around to face Arata and waving to him.

Arata would smile back, rushing towards Mikoto’s side, panting slightly. Arata was never the sporty type like Mikoto. He didn’t go on runs or work out on a daily basis since he was busy painting more of the time.

“Although,” Arata thought to himself, “I don’t mind spending more time with Mikoto is never a bad thing to me.”

”Ah, did you just come back from shopping? Is it more art supplies? What are you painting?” Mikoto would tilt his head like a dog looking for a treat.

“Heh, yeah. It’s fresh watercolor paints since I’m trying a new technique. Maybe…” He’d look at Mikoto with his blue eyes, “Maybe I’ll paint something cute. Like you.”

"Ehh? Like me?" Mikoto would blush slightly, scratching his cheek slightly with his free hand. "You think I'm cute?"

Arata would stare at Mikoto for a moment. He didn't mean to say that allowed. It was a simple slip, that's all. Yeah, he can just say it was a slip. Just a thing he thought sub-consciously. That Arata thought Mikoto was cute. No, not just cute. Handsome. Enthralling, even. But he could never say that to him. Not now. Not ever.

"..Yeah, but you know... I-It's nothing. I just think you're cute, that's all." Arata would chuckle awkwardly, fumbling with his hands.

"Oh! Well... It's just, you've said that to me before." Mikoto would make eye contact with Arata. "That it's nothing."

"...I- I do?" Arata would shiver slightly, nervously smiling. Mikoto can't find out. Not now. Not here.

Before Arata could answer, a droplet of rain hit the top of his head. The two men looked up at the sky, the grey clouds joining together and beginning to soak the two. Mikoto would quickly pull out a umbrella, grabbing Arata's hand and pulling him close. Very close.

"Ah, sorry about this, Ara-kun. I just didn't want you to get soaked." Mikoto would chuckle, noticing Arata's grip getting tighter.

"...It's okay. Just... don't let my hand go, okay, Mikoto?" Arata would look up at Mikoto with pleading eyes.

Mikoto would look surprised for a moment, before nodding silently. The two would walk for a couple of blocks, conversations ending as quickly as they started. Their hands were still clasped together tightly, as per Arata’s request. Soon enough, they got to the entrance of Mikoto’s apartment complex.

“Ah… This is my apartment.” Mikoto would look over at Arata with the same smile plastered on his face. “Do you want to come inside?”

“…Mikoto, can I tell you something?” Arata would ask in a shaky voice.

“Oh, of course! I’m here for you, Ara-kun.” Mikoto would turn to face Arata, “Whatever you need.”

Arata would take a deep breath, shaking slightly as he began to speak.

“Mikoto, we’ve known each other for a while… I know can trust you. I know a lot about you, actually.” Arata would look away for a brief moment.

“What I’m trying to say is that… I really like you, Mikoto. I want to be with you… but, not as just friends. I want… more. I love you.” Arata would squeeze Mikoto’s hand tightly.

“…Arata.” Makoto would say softly, a light blush dusting his face and his mouth agape.

Arata could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, preparing to drip down like a pouring rain. There was no chance they could ever go back to normal after this. What would even be the possibility of Mikoto liking him? He doesn’t even like guys. He may not even like Arata anymore. He might just be a freak to Mikoto now.

“Arata! Hey, what’s wrong?” Mikoto would speak in a soft voice. He’d put his hand on the painter’s tear-stained cheek and rubbed it softly.

“I u-understand… if you d-don’t want to be f-friends anymore. If you want.. To get away f-from me.. And if I’m gross to you.” Arata attempted to speak through his tears, his words coming in between gasps and sobs.

“Ara-kun, I love you too.”

“…What?” Arata would stare into Mikoto’s greyish blue eyes.

"Can I show you what I mean?” Mikoto would say, blushing slightly and tearing up.

“…Yes, yes, please. Please, Mii-kun, I’m begging you-“

Arata’s words would get cut off as the ombré-haired man pressed his lips onto the brunette’s. Arata would drop the bags of paint as he wrapped his arms around Mikoto. Mikoto would the same, dropping his umbrella, allowing the two to get soaked by the rain. For a moment, it was if the two were in their own world where it was just the two of them. They didn’t have to worry about the rain or work, they just had each other. Only each other.

Eventually, the two would pull away for air.

"...Thank you, Mikoto. Thank you so much." Arata would smile at Mikoto.

Mikoto would smile back at Arata. "You're welcome, Ara-kun..."

"Should we head inside before we get more soaked?" Arata would chuckle slightly, picking up the bags of paint.

"Yeah, we should." Mikoto would put up the umbrella, holding out his free hand for Arata to hold.

Arata would grab Mikoto's hand tightly, intertwining their fingers as they entered the building together.

Finally together.

[lordsecondsenju]

"How is that fireball jutsu coming?"

"Shut up, Hiruzen!" Kagami huffed as he finished wrapping burned fingers in bandages. He still was struggling with the jutsu even now, at almost nineteen. "It's not the fireball jutsu anymore, anyway!"

"Oh, whatever." Hiruzen laughed and shook his head as he leaned against a nearby tree.

Just as Kagami was about to retort, Tobirama's voice came from within the nearby forest. "Kagami!"

"Yes?"

"Are you ready to work on something new?"

Kagami's eyes lit up as the albino man stepped forward. "Something new?"

"Yes, I have a feeling it will come... Swimmingly." Tobirama gave a tiny smile as he led the way off towards the lake nearby to the training grounds.

[ghostly-penumbra]

DannyMay 2023. Day Three

“Blizzard”

Ao3

Danny opened his eyes and pressed the goggles back against his face. Even though he could see just fine through the snow besieging the Guys in White, he still needed aid looking far away.

He sighed and looked back at Skulker, who hadn’t moved an inch since the siege started. Who would have thought he could be an endurance predator when necessary?

Regardless, Phantom was getting cranky. He had imagined that taking down the G.i.W. would be cake once they were cut-off from government funding, but they were some stubborn fucks.

Danny stood up and turned to Skulker. “Let’s move.”

[feliscus]

　/ * WHERE THE HEARTH IS ,

“All you need to be deserving of the throne is conviction, and the necessary strength to act on it.” “…Protecting my family at all costs— that’s my conviction.”

　　　* ignis purgatorius chapter spoilers.

Morning dawns.

Lynette and Freminet slumber, snug on either side of him, but sleep eluded the magician like some grand magic trick, slipping from his grasp every time it seemed to be almost within reach. He’d neither twisted nor turned for fear of waking them, laid flat on his back staring up at the ceiling as the memory of red seared itself behind his eyelids.

In the end, Lyney had not slept at all, arms numb from where they’d stayed curled around his siblings throughout the night.

Gently, not wishing to rouse them, he tugs himself free, slips from beneath the covers to pad silently across hardwood floors. There are bandages set atop a drawer, some food and some salves. But it is upon the triplet bottled flames sitting there that his attention catches, gleaming their molten temptation.

Does Father know how he hums and haws over it now, fingers curling around the vial’s neck? Does she expect this flicker of doubt in her heir, this moment of hesitation, of weakness? Had this, too, been foreplanned by her?

Lyney knows he will never burn as brilliantly as Father. He is not strong enough, not smart enough to be named her heir. If he had been, Clervie would have been gone long before it ever had to come to this. If he had been, Lynette and Freminet would have never been hurt.

No illusion he conjures will ever fool her all-seeing gaze. No spell he casts over an audience will ever capture her attention. His steps do not fit into the path she wishes for him, too, to tread as she once had.

Because to be her successor, to become king… One day…

It would be so easy to let the flames swallow up his memories— and everything that made up ‘Lyney’ alongside it. Flush away the past that ever nips at his heels, the title of the Fatui, the burden of the heir and all its troubles.

But there is nowhere he and Lynette have gone that they have not gone together. He will not ask his sister to follow him to death too or ask Freminet to watch his siblings turn into a husks of themselves that cannot even recall his name. They both wish to stay, and Lyney will not cloud their judgement on the matter with his own doubts.

He pockets the vial and goes noiselessly from the room.

“Um… Lyney?”

A half-step from the door, he halts, twisting to meet Heloir’s gaze with a smile. Lips part to respond as he swallows around the lump in his throat, and only then, as it drags and burns all the way down, does he realize how dry his throat is. “Good morning, Heloir.”

“Oh.” He hears it, the realization in her voice that he is still himself, but she says nothing else, just continues to eye him warily. If she notices the rasp to his voice, there is no other response than to weigh the two potion vials in her hand, then hand him the one filled with clear liquid. A pause. “It’s water.”

Lyney exhales. “…Thank you. Did you need something?”

She shrinks, her voice alongside it. Normally so loud and proud, it’s strange to see her so small. “The bottled flames…did you need help administering them? I—I’m sure I have some medicine or potion to make it hurt less, but—”

But who’s going to watch over them if he leaves? Who will rock the younger kids to sleep or make sure Heloir doesn’t try any of her potions or teach Freminet to improve his sleight of hand? Or put on small magic shows by the hearth, with every trick practiced to perfection and even the ones less so able to call forth their smiles and laughter?

“Lyney? Should I go get something for you?”

Well…someone else will be able to do it. Father can find another heir.

But the yes sticks to the tip of his tongue as he reaches for the vial in his pocket. Because there will likely be a dozen other children like him— as smart, as ambitious, as clever— that Father can pick from, but Lyney will never find another home like this.

For a long time, the only home he had known was Lynette. But the House of the Hearth is his home now too. He doesn’t know much about how a family should really work or what a home should look like, and the thought of leading them is terrifying. Yet the thought of leaving them is infinitely more so.

If Lyney was predisposed to easy solutions, he’d have died long ago.

Anger makes you impulsive. Sorrow causes you to waver. But Lyney was forged by neither, and the flames caught in the orb of his Vision had not been born from rage. His ambition is as it has always been: he will protect his family, no matter what.

Even from Father. Even if it means death.

He clears his throat, producing the vial with a snap of his fingers. “Actually, I was hoping that you would keep this for me. After all, Father entrusted them to you for safekeeping.”

And there is the sparkle in her eyes. The smile. The vial is snatched— too eagerly, perhaps— from his hand. “Oh! Yes, sure!”

Lyney has no desire to be king. He has no ambition for strength other than for the ability it gives him to protect those dear to him. And, most times, he doesn’t know what home or family should mean.

But he never could have left. He wonders if Father had known that from the start. Wonders if this is the answer she had been looking for, if he will ever be able to tell her what family means to him.

Regardless, Lyney will know what she thinks of it soon enough.

Night falls.

As he always has, Lyney opens the door to Hotel Bouffes d’ete at the end of a long day and calls out, “I’m home!”

And the chorus of voices that calls back, “Welcome back!” is the beginning of his answer.