#he is a blue soul. and that's completely fine by him

[krilati]

Tim, who is not Robin, but still feral

Okay, let's say Tim's parents decide that even if their child doesn't need a nanny, they want someone to check on their son's well-being. So Tim is required to go to the doctor once a week. And after he tried to bribe his first one to just tell his parents everything was fine. Janette decided it would be someone else each time.

Tim gets a car once a week that picks him up to see a doctor he doesn't know.

That way he doesn't have time to search for dirt, and he can't bribe anyone, since everyone drinks his mother more than him.

So after Nightwing turned Tim down (Dick later claimed the boy was black-haired and blue-eyed, but since he was often hallucinating Jason at the time, even he wasn't sure). The guy realized he couldn't go to Batman and insist on being Robin. The first fracture (which is 100% likely to happen in the early days of jumping on roofs and kicking angry adults) and the doctor would hand him over to his parents.

So Tim came up with a Plan.

Batman was angry, for a month now someone, every patrol, has been standing up for criminals. If he's lucky, he manages to land 5 hits (dude, your 1 hit can put a person in the hospital, Tim just has short legs, he still needs to run to the edge of the necessary roof) when someone distracts him.

Last time, they poured a bucket of paint on his head, it became almost impossible to see through the mask. Another time, they shot paintballs at his head until he left.

There was another memorable incident when something small landed on his head, and the next moment he was attacked by bats.

But today he finally cornered the attacker, it was a child whose face was hidden behind a mask that completely covered his face, and his hair was hidden behind a hood. He slowly approached the boy, he needed to find out who he worked for. Who decided that they had the right to interfere with him punishing criminals.

Only when Batman grabbed the attacker by the shoulder he felt dizzy and then everything around him went dark. Tim quietly patted himself on the head for the backup plan of the backup plan.

After waking up, Batman did not feel calmer, on the contrary, this meeting ignited even more rage in him.

How dare this child run around Gotham so carefree when his son was killed, how dare he protect criminals when one of them killed his son, how dare he..

That day, a file on a new criminal with high priority appeared on the Batcomputer, Alfred only reproachfully pursed his lips.

By the time Red Hood escaped from Talia (Yes, he escaped here, I don't know for sure, but I think Talia was pitting Jason against Tim to ensure her son had direct access to Bruce's legacy). Batman and Tim's confrontations became legendary.

Tim even had his own name and merchandise! Several names, actually, he was called Gotham's Whisperer, the Soul of Shadow, or Little Shadow. And in various Gotham stores you could find little figurines of him with various weapons that he demonstrated during this time.

Nightwing adored the little guy, although he had never met him in person. In fact, no one except Bruce had ever encountered the kid. And although Oracle never officially supported the boy, she never warned Batman if she saw a small dark silhouette through the cameras. Although Dick really wanted to know where the kid got the sniper rifle with tranquilizers, or how he hacked the Batmobile to put a sleeping Bruce in it and send him to the Cave, or how he got so many incriminating photos of Batman that he scattered all over the city when Batman didn't take one of his threats seriously.

Simply put, Nightwing was a fan, and had wanted the kid's autograph ever since the kid evacuated an entire alley, including Bruce, by playing the sound of a pack of rabid dogs approaching.

Batman, though he had passed the peak of his rage, still made Gotham afraid if he was spotted trolling alone.

Red Hood was furious, not only did his father not have the courage to avenge him, but he also dared to splash out his aggression on anyone who was not breathing smoothly on HIS Alley of Crime.

[meiieiri]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐚 [gojo satoru]

synopsis: you got married to gojo satoru at the edge of a frozen lake in summer.

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

warnings/tags: heavy angst, a love that’s TOO LITTLE TOO LATE if one can even call that a tag, unrequited love (kinda).

Marriage is a golden ring on a chain whose beginning is a single glance between two unsuspecting souls that ends with eternity.

Twelve years. You’ve loved him through twelve springs. It’s bittersweet to think how a person could give another their youth for free. But then again, the only things that you truly keep are the things you give away. That’s just life, isn’t it? And besides, you take a step towards the blue peony littered aisle with a wistful smile on your face as you picture a certain arctic-haired man standing at the other end, when it comes to matters of the heart, keeping ledgers of the love you give and the love you receive is a futile effort.

You should probably put that in your vows later. But ah, what did it matter? Satoru’s probably just gonna wing it later, arguing that expressions of love should be light-hearted and candid much like the love you share.

“Y/N-chan~!” He steps in front of you, his tall form towering over you as he catches you by the student lounge’s vending machine. Shoko smirks behind you, pulling Suguru ahead of you to leave the two of you alone. She nudges you forward and you cast her a betrayed look to which she only replies with an innocent shrug. It’s common knowledge to everyone in Tokyo Jujutsu High how you feel about the Gojo clan’s illustrious little starlet.

Well, it was common knowledge to everyone except Satoru Gojo.

And you don’t know if you find that comforting or saddening.

Comforting that he wouldn’t find out about your feelings from someone else, though you’re still working up the courage to fess up, you wholeheartedly believe that this is something he should hear from you and you alone. Saddening that maybe the reason he’s been all blissfully ignorant of how your breath becomes shallow whenever he’s around you is he’s actually already aware of your feelings towards him and he’s only deflecting it.

“We’ll go ahead, Y/N,” Shoko says in a sing-song voice, taking your cursed tool from you. “Come see me if you have any injuries!”

“But if it’s a broken heart, she probably can’t fix it,” Suguru chimes in, winking at Satoru as if to say: ‘Go talk to her.’ before turning to follow his girlfriend.

A hush falls between you and Satoru, unspoken words swirling around the two of you like a symphony of longing. Both of you seem to be saying the same thing:

Should I tell her?

Should I tell him?

What would she say?

Would he leave?

If the truth is meant to set you free, then he is your jailer. Why is he content with never uttering those words aloud? Why are you so eager to stay in the hedge maze of your mind, seeking his shadow at every corner? This was a tiring game of hide and seek.

But Satoru is completely fine with letting it drag on if it meant he’d never risk losing you.

And you were fine with that too. You were fine being a prisoner to your truth as long as he was with you in this jail cell. You were fine.

Whatever fine means.

“Wanna go to the arcade?” Satoru looks at you with a shimmering bittersweet look in his eyes.

You smile and a breathy laugh falls from your lips causing his face to light up even more.

“That depends, you gonna let me win?”

“Never.”

“Y/N! There you are.”

You turn around to see an older Shoko, her youthful bob cut having outgrown its juvenile flare. She looks out of breath, she must have run around the venue looking for you and judging from the way she keeps glancing at her watch, and the exasperated look she was throwing your way at the sight of you still in your silk robe, you needed to get moving.

But your feet remain planted in the middle of the empty aisle, your gaze trained on the arch.

“You feeling okay?” Shoko asks, her hand finding yours in a tender display of solidarity. “It’s okay to be nervous, you know.”

You flash her a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I know. Just…deep in thought.”

“Yeah.”

Weddings are always so beautiful, you think to yourself as Shoko steps back giving you some space as you contemplate the day ahead. Your fingers trace one of the satin linens adorning the trellises much like your heart traces the contours of a love too delicate to verbalize, too powerful to ignore. Your gaze dances over the elegant arrangements of blue, white and gray, the scent of grapefruit-quince adorning the air, mixing with the scent of peonies, jasmines and white musk.

Everything here speaks of the imminent union of two souls finding their way to each other. And how comforting it is to know that no matter where you wander, all paths inevitably lead to Satoru Gojo. And you have your drunk cartographer heart to thank for that.

“He loves you,” Shoko finally says, catching your wrist to bring you over to the gazebo to get touched up.

“…I know.”

You look back at the empty aisle, with all but one question in your mind.

What happens when simply knowing is no longer enough?

“Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again with my sunglasses off?”

You nearly choke on your yogurt drink when you see yet another stunningly familiar light blue sticky note on your desk. Satoru fucking Gojo is going to be the death of you one day. Your touch grazes over the hastily scribbled note, a small smile playing at your lips as you take out a white pad of sticky notes from your school bag. After collecting your thoughts, you decide to play along with his little game, your heart fluttering when you realize that this back and forth could actually be considered flirting.

“There’s no such thing as love at first sight. And sorry, pretty boys like you aren’t exactly my type.”

Satoru finds the white sticky note plastered on his stool in Jujutsu Tech’s science lab. Despite the playful jab in your reply, Satoru is hyperfixated on the fact that you just called him pretty. Did you really mean it? He bites the inside of his cheek being careful not to grin too much in fear of Suguru catching wind of what’s happening — the strongest sorcerer of this generation being caught off-guard by his little crush? Detestable!

“You think I’m pretty? ;) I knew it.”

Shoko looks at you funnily, you’re practically red as a tomato with how you’re fuming from the ears and sputtering about how ridiculous Satoru is being. “He’s just so…so…!”

“You really should work on finishing your sentences now~”

You are interrupted at the sight Satoru practically hopping down the steps leading to the training field with a convenience store bag tucked under his arm and you sigh exasperatedly, turning away as if he was a bug that’s hovering over your ear that you really shouldn’t be paying attention to. All of his six foot two form plops down next to you and you jump when he presses a cold ice cream bar to your cheek.

“You’re awfully generous today, Satoru,” you smirk, accepting and lifting the ice cream bar in silent gratitude, suppressing the blush creeping onto your cheeks.

Satoru blushes himself, his hand coming up to rub the back of his head as a comfortable silence falls between the two of you. Shit, say something, Satoru thinks to himself. Was he being too obvious? Did you somehow piece it together now that he has feelings for you?

In his internal dilemma, Satoru settles for undermining the deliberate gesture.

“I only needed two more stickers to get this really neat toy,” Satoru explains, reaching into the convenience store bag and pulling out his new tamagotchi. “Pretty worth it, I would say. The one I saw in Akihabara is being sold for 7500 yen, but that’s the angelgotch variety, so I kinda get the whole roadside robbery thing.”

Of course, he steered the conversation elsewhere. You’re not even surprised at this point that he’ll always only stay at the surface when he treads these long drawn out conversations with you, too afraid to say anything more — do anything more — than what was necessary as your friend.

Keyword: friend.

He had no obligation to you other than being your friend. And you don’t blame him. You’re not angry at him that he’s only willing to stay in shallow water with you, it’s just…

“Hey, I have to go, Yaga’s calling me.” Satoru casually interrupts your train of heartbroken thoughts, but you do not miss the unease in his voice, he almost sounds sorry that he has to bail again.

But you already send him off with a reluctant thumbs up. As you look at his retreating form, he stops for a bit at the stone tori gate, his head bowed in thought, you don’t know why you held your breath. He reaches into his pocket, but thinks better of it, and he paces two hesitant steps forward.

Then, he looks back to meet your eyes from afar.

And his heart clenches in a mixture of affection and exasperation when you are the first to blushingly look away.

The ten feet separating the two of you is very reminiscent of how you began: running in opposite directions to outdo the other in your competition to see who can act that they care less, placing more distance between your flustered hearts. Satoru gazes at you as if he’s seen the divine incarnated into a single beautiful being. He wipes a tear from his eye, sniffing momentarily, watching you gracefully float down the aisle with an equally smitten expression on your features.

Clutching the bouquet in your hands, you don’t break eye contact and everything seems to unfold like a motion picture before your very eyes, your and Satoru’s life together in vivid cinematography: your first dance later tonight, your first trip out of the country together for your honeymoon, your first time, your first year, your first child. Everything. You’ve imagined Satoru to be your first in everything. And as you make your way to the aisle, tears glistening in both your orbs, you stop to meet in the middle, the two of you standing on fate’s edge together.

He casts you a look, and you offer him a melancholic smile.

This was it.

…

…

…

…

The doors open and his bride arrives, and you move to the side, taking your place next to Shoko, painfully leaving the space you and Satoru briefly shared, a space that was never meant for you in the first place.

Which begs the question again: what happens when knowing is no longer enough?

Or is it…the two of you never knew at all how the other felt?

No, you and Shoko watch as Satoru stares at you from his peripheral, his heart fragmenting into irreparable pieces at each step his bride makes towards him.

Should I tell her?

Should I tell him?

What would she say?

Would he leave?

The answer is clear now. He wouldn’t have left. Things were just left unsaid, never admitted — the words that you longed to hear from one another never fell from your lips. Not once in the twelve years you secretly held him in your heart. And thus, fate then decreed that love is for the brave, and not for cowardly souls like you and Satoru Gojo.

And with whatever strength you have left, uncaring if this would cause you to look scandalous: a bridesmaid going after the groom, you mouth the words: “I love you.”

A pained smile appears on his lips, an allegory to the goofy grins he used to flash you when you two were young, and he nods, tears in his eyes.

This was twelve years too late. But it’s better than never.

“I knew it.”

[retroaria]

Michael Kaiser. That’s it. That’s the post.

i’m having kaiser thoughts. i’m pondering my orb, and all it’s showing me is michael kaiser. the evil voices in my head (my ask box) are taunting me (sending very nice requests) to sell my soul to michael kaiser (finally write something about him) and so here i am.

summary: random kaiser hc’s (lmk if you want more/nsfw ones)

BLUE LOCK M.LIST | enjoy 🪽 - aria

• thinking about how possessive he would be in a relationship. it isn’t overbearing, in the sense that he trusts you and lets you do you’re own thing. however, he’s a rather insecure man behind all that smug douchebaggery that he puts off and he has a hard time watching you interact with other men of his same stature. because truly, no matter how good he is to you, he isn’t the best person all around. there are guys out there that would be better for you and he can’t help be fear that you’ll be swept off your feet and taken from him.

• Kaiser is gentle with you. you actually turned him into a completely different person. It’s not that you’ve really changed him at his core, but you’ve opened him up to love he didn’t know before, and so he feels like he has nothing to be afraid of with you. he’s vulnerable and expressive and happy with you. he makes sure to provide that same experience for you in the relationship, making sure you always know you can go to him for anything and you don’t have to hide anything from him.

• In the beginning of the relationship, Kaiser is very protective of your privacy. He’s really afraid of the consequences that may come with the world knowing who you are and who you are to him. he’s not naive, he knows there’s bad people out there. not only that, but it’s no one else’s right to know you’re love for each other. i see him doing a soft launch and that’s it. after that he’ll post you on occasion and be a little less aggressive about hiding from paparazzi, but he still doesn’t want to share you. you’re his whole world, keyword HIS.

• kaiser LOVES intimacy. physical or emotional, he loves those sweet loving moments that come to fruition from the trust and bond the two of you have cultivated. he loves showering and taking baths with you, relishing in the gentle touches as the two of you clean each other up. they’re always filled with soft giggles and quick kisses, before drying each other off and snuggling up. he loves listening to you talk about your day, not sparing him from details you may have spared others from. telling him all the thoughts and actions you aren’t proud of, unafraid of being judged in his eyes. the vulnerability of it all makes his heart beat fast, but you’re both so trusting and in love that there’s nothing to be afraid of.

• this might be a hot take, but i feel like the concept of marriage would scare him a bit. it’s not that he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life with you, because he absolutely does and already plans on it. it’s just a level of commitment that he never thought anyone would dedicate to him. he doesn’t want you to end up regretting it in the future. he doesn’t shy away from conversation about it though, he actually wants you guys to talk about it and get a feel for where you both stand. when the time comes to take that next step, he’s as ready as ever. just make sure you don’t break his heart please (or i’ll find you bro.)

• dates with kaiser can either be extravagant and classy or they can be chill and sweet, he can do both. sometimes he wants to take you to the nicest restaurants he can fine, see you all dolled up looking absolutely stunning for him, and pamper you the entire night. other times he just wants the two of you to do something fun and spontaneous, would take you to a fair and win you all the stuffed animals you want, or would take you on a stroll around the city, letting you frolick through the shops while he holds all your bags for you. he’s such a gentleman either way.

• kaiser loves being domestic with you. doing the laundry, grocery shopping, cleaning the house, making dinner, he loves it. in those moments he finds himself wishing they would last forever, just the two of you existing in each others presence, he has nothing to worry about.

moon divider- @strangergraphics-archive

[tsu-kitty]

𝓸𝓅𝓉𝒾𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸

♡ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 › 2.0k

♡ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 › atsumu x reader, gn!reader, atsumu gets in an off-page fight over the reader, fluff.

♡ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 › after getting stood-up on a date, atsumu sees his chance to swoop in and steal your heart.

♡ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 › i only recently jumped on the atsumu train, so he may be a bit ooc, but i'm in love with what i wrote so hopefully you will be too and you can forgive me. also, not proofread, sorry, i was so excited to post this.

The tears streaming down your cheeks were cold and salty and stung when the winter wind hit your face. You hated that you were crying. It wasn’t like you were heartbroken. You didn’t even like the guy, you barely knew him. It was more that you were a hopeless romantic who accepted an offer for a coffee date despite knowing little more than the guy's name. Love was unpredictable, a mysterious being that worked in round-about ways. Maybe she had chosen this unknown blue-eyed boy from the class below yours to be your soul mate.

Alas, after stopping you on your way home to ask if you'd like to go on a date and exchanging numbers, he hadn't even possessed the human decency to reply to your messages asking where he was, if he was running late. The only response you received was the minuscule text under your message bubble reading “read”.

So, no, you weren't heartbroken. You weren't entirely sure what you were. Disappointed? Embarrassed? Both seemed to fit. Regardless, you tried to find the bright side. Maybe you’d just dodged a bullet. If his actions today spoke anything of his character, then he would have been a lousy boyfriend. 

Still, here you were, dressed up in a cute but warm baby blue and pink outfit, ready for at least a morning of cosy winter date activities. It would really be a waste of a cute outfit if you were to go home immediately. Who said you couldn’t take yourself on a nice date? 

Wiping the tears off your face, you spun on your heel, determined to not let the day be unhappy. First, you needed a snack and a warm beverage. There was an adorable cafe in the other direction that was miles better than the one your not-date had suggested.

“Oh, Y/N!”

“Atsumu?”

The tall blonde boy grinned, wiping the light sheen of sweat on his forehead away. Judging by his shoes and athletic attire, he was out on a run. “Hey, Y/N. How are you? What are you doing here?”

Miya Atsumu wasn’t someone you would consider yourself to be particularly close to, but the two of you had miraculously managed to be in the same class all throughout highschool. So, you knew him more than an acquaintance would, but less than a friend. However, you were on a given-name basis, mostly due to him having a twin brother. Atsumu had been seated behind you this first semester, though, so there was always potential for the relationship to bloom into friendship. Still, you weren’t there yet, so confessing to being stood up just moments ago was out of the question.

“Oh, um, you know, just the usual—”

“You’re crying.”

Suddenly, he was right in front of you, his nose barely ten centimetres from yours, cupping your face in his big, rough hands. His chocolate eyes were wide and concerned, pulling his thick brows together. 

“N-No, I’m not,” you stuttered, taken aback by Atsumu’s unexpected closeness. Your heart was pounding against your chest, anxiety pushing its speed faster and faster. If he got any closer, you’re sure you would pass out.

“Your eyes are red and watery,” he said with a seriousness you didn’t know he possessed. 

“I have allergies,” you lied. 

“Y/N, I’m not a complete idiot.”

“Listen, I’m fine,” you said, trying your best to avoid his eyes as you peeled his hands off your face. They were too close, too intense. “I promise. I’m already over it.”

“Okay, then what were you crying about?” he asked, bending his head to try to follow your gaze.

“It’s nothing really. I just got stood up.” You forced a smile. “But it’s okay, I’m over it really. I barely even knew the guy.”

Something in Atsumu’s expression shifted darkly before landing on a bright smile. “Oh, really? I’m sorry that happened to you. Who were you supposed to meet?”

Suspicion tickled at the back of your mind, but you told him anyway. “Furutani Hide.”

“Furutani, huh?” Atsumu pondered. “Nah, can’t say I know the guy.”

“I don’t really either,” you confessed. “He asked me out randomly at school.”

“Why’d you say yes if you don’t know him?” asked Atsumu, brows pulling together again. 

It occurred to you at that moment that his eyebrows were a lot darker than the rest of his hair. Was he a fake blonde? How had you never noticed before? His hair was kind of an unusual colour now that you really considered it.

“Well, uh… I don’t know…” you said sheepishly, twisting a ring around your finger. “My friends say I’m a hopeless romantic . I think I’m just… optimistic.”

You raised your eyes to Atsumu’s and found him staring at you eyes wide and mouth agape. Then he cleared his throat and regained his composure. Why he lost it in the first place, you weren’t sure. Maybe he… No. Had you not learnt your lesson? This was the kind of thinking that had led to you crying your eyes out not five minutes ago. 

“Either way,” Atsumu said, scratching the back of his head, “it’s his loss. I mean, can’t say I know you super well, but just from being your classmate for three years, I can tell you’re a pretty cool person.”

His words caught you off guard. 

“Really?”

Atsumu shrugged. “Yeah.”

A gentle heat rose in your cheeks. “Wow. Thanks, Atsumu.”

“Eh, no problem. Look, I gotta go, but I’ll see you at school on Monday. Try to cheer up in the meantime, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered, returning his wave as he started up his jog again. 

By the time Monday rolled around, you were completely over being stood-up and your brain was on its way to forgetting about the whole incident. That was until you happened to be passing by the teacher’s lounge when the door slid open and out trudged Furutani Hide, slouched and dazed, looking extremely worse for wear. His hair was sticking up in odd places, his tie was screwed drastically to the left against his white shirt which was oddly dirty. Worst of all, one of his nostrils was plugged with a tissue and the other was freely leaking crimson blood. 

At the sight of you, Furutani’s back straightened before he snapped at the waist, blurting, “Y/F/N, I’m terribly sorry for asking you on a date then standing you up. I am a spineless coward and will never do such a thing to anyone ever again. I will stay out of your way and never bother you again.” 

You watched slack-jawed as he bowed twice more then sprinted out of sight, down the hallway, nearly knocking over three other students. 

“Well, I’m glad we got that cleared up.”

Turning back to the teacher’s lounge, you watched  Miya Atsumu waltz towards you, hands tucked into his trouser pockets, as casual and confident as ever. He was sporting an all-too-pleased-with-himself smirk and bandaid on his cheekbone. His hair and tie were also askew, but in a slightly purposeful way. His shirt was relatively spotless but his trouser knees were stained with dust.

“Atsumu…” you said slowly, piecing together a scenario that you hoped both did and did not happen. “What did you do…?”

“Bold of you to assume I did anything,” he replied coyly, stepping almost as close as he had when you last spoke to him. “The pig probably just had a change of heart.”

“Atsumu,” you repeated, harsher than before.

Sighing, he rolled his head around his shoulders then met your questioning gaze. Were you really going to make him say it?

You didn’t falter, making a show of crossing your arms and shifting your weight onto one leg, popping your hip out.

Atsumu sighed again. “Fine. I didn’t like the fact that he stood you up on your date. Soooo… I may or may not have…” He avoided your gaze. “... told him he needed to apologise to you when I saw him at lunch.”

You waited.

“And punched him in the face.”

“Atsumu!” you gasped. Yes, you had assumed some sort of fight had occurred, but you hadn’t expected Atsumu to be the instigator. “What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t really.”

At least he could admit it.

“I was just really pissed off,” he said, shrugging.

Whilst you were flattered that a boy would get into a fight on your behalf, you really couldn’t condone that sort of behaviour. “There was no need for you to be pissed off,” you scolded him.

“He was literally flirting with some other girl,” Atsumu exclaimed, hands flying out of his pockets to emphasise the drama of his statement.

“That doesn’t matter, Atsumu,” you continued. “I’m over it. Way over it. Even if I wasn’t, it hardly concerns you, so why would you—”

“Uh, yeah, it kinda does concern me, ‘specially when it’s hurting the person that I like.”

You froze. “Oh.”

Atsumu rolled his eyes. Now, it was his turn to cross his arms judgmentally. “Yeah, ‘oh’.”

At his unexpected confession, all the words in your vocabulary had left you along with the air in your lungs.

Atsumu continued with his confession, full steam ahead stepping closer to until your own retaliation steps had you almost pressed against the wall. “You know, for someone who’s friends would call them a hopeless romantic but would prefer to describe themselves as ‘optimistic’, you really are blind to romance.” He placed his hands on the windowsill on either side of your body, caging you between his arms. “I’ve been flirting with you since the start of the year when I got seated behind you.”

Your heart was beating like you’d just run a marathon, pounding against your ribcage. You regained just enough words and air to mumble, “I thought you were just being friendly.”

“Oh my God, Y/N,” Atsumu groaned, physically deflating. “You’re so dense.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. 

“Don’t apologise,” Atsumu replied, lifting one arm to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I should have just been straight forward with my feelings.” His fingers trailed down and around to your jaw to pull your gaze up to his. “I like you, Y/N. Have for a while now.”

Butterflies burst in your stomach, the heat from their frantic fluttering flowing into your cheeks. 

“And, I dunno if you’re, like, traumatised by your last date, but I’m still gonna ask. Do you want to go out with me after school today? I can guarantee you there is no chance of me ditching. Plus, I sit right behind you, so you can keep an eye on me the whole time.”

He waited patiently while you processed his words. His sunny brown eyes flecked with gold and bronze watched you intensely, anticipation steadily building. It was clear to you that he was being sincere when he said he liked you. The way he was looking at you was something you had fantasised about over and over: a look of fondness and hope and unwavering affection. It was an optimist’s dream come true. 

You were right in your thoughts on love. Not about her choosing Furutani Hide as your soulmate, but about her being an unpredictable, mysterious being that worked in round-about ways. Who could have predicted that the final push for you and Atsumu would be him beating up the guy that stood you up? Not even the most hopeless of romantics.

“Yes,” you finally replied, causing Atsumu to flinch, his face lighting up. “I do want to go out with you.”

Much to your amusement, Atsumu jumped for joy, fist pumping the air in excitement. “Oh my God, that’s great. I’m so hyped, you don’t even know.”

You giggled. Yeah, this seemed more like your soulmate.

[coryosbaby]

mmmmmmh i wanna teach coryo how to suck dick w sejanus as my toy to demonstrate and coryo and i make out w sejanus' tip between us

Just like Candy

content warning . 18+, mdni !!

note: idk if u wanted dom Sejanus but omfhgg i couldn’t stop thinking ab sub sej and sub coryo in this im literally rocking back and forth ab to rip my hair out bc why r they both so fine

Coriolanus Snow and Sejanus Plinth are two big, intimidating men. At least, at first.

Though Sejanus is the sweetest angel he can be, his large stature is quite intimidating. Coriolanus is the smaller of the two, but the way his cold blue eyes stare into your soul as he talks gives you the impression that he’s a lot more dangerous than he lets on.

Coriolanus Snow and Sejanus Plinth are two big, intimidating men. And you have them completely at your mercy.

One of them—Sejanus— sits up against the headboard of your pretty pink bed. His girthy cock is sitting proudly against his stomach, the tip leaking drops of precum down his shaft. The other boy—Coriolanus— sits on his knees, watching as you take the other boy’s member into your hand. He watches curiously, examining. Today you’ll teach him how to make a man cum.

“Start slow.”

Your voice is gentle, but doesn’t stray away from being strict, too. Coriolanus— Coryo, as you like to call him— bites his lip shyly as he takes in his best friend’s impressive length. Coryo’s cock is average, maybe a bit bigger, but Sejanus’ is quite intimidating. He doesn’t know how he’ll be able to fit it all the way into his mouth.

He listens to you anyways. He knows what he himself likes, so he starts with that. Hesitantly, gently, he peppers small kisses along the tip of the other boy’s cock. Sejanus, ever the shy boy, lets out a whine before tilting his head back against the headboard. If he looks down and sees his gorgeous friend touching him, he’ll cum instantly.

Coryo makes sure to feel the skin of Sejanus’ cock on his lips, get used to the feeling of stringy precum coating them. He takes in this new, heady scent— Sejanus’ scent— and groans. His cock humps the sheets, desperate to get friction.

“Good,” you praise, your fingers wrapping around the boy’s blonde curls. “Doing so good, Coryo. Sejanus, why don’t you spread your legs some more, honey?”

The brunette obeys, spreading his thighs so Coryo can slot himself more in between them. You move to Sejanus’ side, your hand grabbing ahold of his to comfort him. He shoves his face into your neck, lets out tiny whines and gorgeous pleas.

Coryo’s tongue peeks out, just a bit. It lands on soft, engorged skin. He swirls it around the head, sticks the tip of his tongue into the slit. He tastes precum— warm, liquidy, salty. He likes it. He wants more.

He goes in too quickly. He downs Sejanus’ cock in one go, and the other boy whimpers, his hips surging off the mattress, as Coryo almost presses down against the base.

Almost. He sputters, his throat contracting, and drool spills out of his mouth as he quickly pulls up. You chuckle, reaching out to stroke his cheek as he recovers.

“I told you to go slow, remember?” You say. “Why don’t you try to take half first, hm? Maybe that’ll help, sweet boy.”

Coryo flushes, embarrassed. He uses his wrist to wipe his mouth. When he looks up at Sejanus, the boy is looking down at him for the first time since Coryo had touched him. He feels Sejanus’ cock twitch when he gazes into those sweet doe eyes and slips the warm member into his mouth again. He doesn’t break this intense eye contact, instead deciding to use it to his advantage. His palms splay across Sejanus’ thighs, watching the boy’s pretty face contorted in pleasure. He slides his mouth down halfway, pulls back up again. Coryo can see the way the boy’s thighs shake.

Sejanus speaks for the first time, something coherent. He mumbles your name, pulling you closer to him.

“Want you, too,” he sighs, burying his face into your neck. “Want your mouth, please?”

You smile, your lips grazing his neck as you press a soft, sweet kiss into it. You slide down next to Coryo, and he looks over at you and pulls off slowly.

You both seem to have the same idea. Your tongue lolls out and dances across the base of Sejanus’ cock, experienced and invigorating. Coryo’s tongue begins to clumsily run along the vein protruding down the middle.

When your tongues both meet, Coryo lets out a moan, desperately lapping at your tongue, Sejanus’ dick, anything he can get. Sejanus watches with fascination, his cheeks flaring, and he can feel his balls beginning to tighten from his upcoming orgasm. The salty taste of Sejanus on Coryo’s taste buds makes his eyes roll back, and Sejanus lets out a loud cry as he cums.

A smile dances across your lips, and you and Coryo fight with your mouths to see which one catches most of the boy’s creamy spend. His hips fuck up against the both of you, his hands deciding to grab onto Coryo’s blonde locks. The boy moans out, letting Sejanus glide his tip up and down the boy’s cum coated mouth. You pull away, licking your lips, and move your hand down to Coryo’s aching member. You begin to stroke him, rewarding him for getting his tummy full, and he collapses against Sejanus’ thigh. The brunette boy looks down tiredly, hand still in Coryo’s hair, and watches with a watering mouth as you bring the other to completion.

[firewasabeast]

ooooh. A prompt. Maybe Tommy could use some TLC. Some hurt/comfort?

tags: mentions of past physical and verbal abuse, also first I love you's

Just take those old records off the shelf, I'll sit and listen to 'em by myself

It was a little bit jarring when he first heard it. He'd been coming to this bar for years now and this song had never played before.

Today's music ain't got the same soul, I like that old time rock 'n' roll

He could already feel a thin layer of sweat above his lip. His hands were clammy almost instantly. His heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest.

And he was stuck in the booth, wedged between Buck and Chimney. Everyone was there. Hen, Karen, Bobby, Athena, Maddie, Eddie, Ravi. They were all celebrating Bobby getting reinstated as captain of the 118.

Don't try to take me to a disco, you'll never even get me out on the floor

He needed to get up. It was too hot. Buck was right up against his side, hand on his thigh, and if he moved closer to Chimney they'd practically hit second base.

In ten minutes I'll be late for the door, I like that old time rock 'n' roll

“Need'a gotothe bathroom,” Tommy mumbled out in whisper to Buck. He wasn't drunk. They'd only been there half an hour and he had just finished his first beer. But the song was completely throwing him off.

Still like that old time rock 'n' roll, that kind of music just soothes the soul

Buck looked at him, confused, squeezed his thigh in a way that would usually be sweet but right now felt like too much. “What?” he asked, leaning in closer.

“Bathroom,” he repeated, clearer this time.

I reminisce about the days of old, with that old time rock 'n' roll

“Oh, okay.” Buck scooted out of the booth and Tommy managed to get out without banging his knees on the table. “You okay?” Buck asked, reaching down for his hand and giving it a squeeze. “You're pale.”

He felt like throwing up. Tommy unwrapped his hand from Buck far too quickly for him to not suspect anything, he knew that, but he couldn't help it right now. “Fine,” he managed with a forced smile.

Won't go to hear 'em play a tango, I'd rather hear some blues or funky old soul

He headed for the bathroom, but took a left instead of a right, opting to head outside instead.

Buck glanced back at everyone at the table, who all looked confused. Tommy's abrupt shift in mood was impossible not to notice.

“I'm guessing he knows he didn't just go to the bathroom?” Eddie questioned.

Buck sighed, tossed a few dollars on the table. “I'm gonna go check on him.”

When Buck got outside it took him a minute to spot Tommy. He was a few feet away from the door, swaying slightly from side to side with his hands in his pockets, staring out into the parking lot.

Buck walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, retracting it quickly when Tommy jumped at the touch.

“Sorry,” Buck said, startled.

Tommy closed his eyes once he saw it was Buck, letting out a deep breath. “No, Evan, I... Sorry, I was in my own world.”

“S'okay. Are you okay?”

Tommy let out a humorless laugh, his gaze falling down to his feet as he kicked at some rocks with his shoe. “Um, I'm a little embarrassed, actually,” he admitted.

“What for?”

“The song playing in there,” he said, turning back toward the bar, “it reminded me of a... a not so great memory.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

His eyes met Evan's and all he could see was concern. Tommy knew he wasn't asking because he felt like he had to, or because he thought it was what Tommy expected of him. He was asking because he was genuinely worried, and wanted to be there for him.

“You wanna go sit in the back of my truck?” Tommy asked. He could still hear a slight beat from music inside the bar and, while he was sure they weren't still playing that same song, it's the only thing he could think about when he heard any music at all.

Buck nodded. “Yeah, let's go.”

When they got to the truck, Tommy lowered the tailgate and they both hopped up, their legs dangling over the edge.

Buck stared up at the sky, stars a little more visible in their location than anywhere else in Los Angeles. He waited for Tommy to speak, not wanting to pressure him.

The feeling of Tommy's hand slipping into his brought his attention back to Tommy. Their fingers intertwined, but Buck didn't squeeze too hard. He didn't want to scare him again.

“I haven't really ever told you very much about my dad, have I?”

“Little pieces here and there,” Buck replied. “You said a few months back that he was a lot like Gerrard, and mentioned you haven't spoken to him in ten years.”

Tommy nodded. “Both things are true. He was... There was more to him than that though. He was not a good man, Evan. He'd go to church every time the doors were open, smile on his face, mom and me by his side. The perfect family. That's what everyone told us anyway.”

He scooted closer to Buck, placing their hands on his thigh. He took his free hand and rubbed it gently over Buck's knuckles, finding comfort in his boyfriend's touch. “Then we'd get home, and lunch or dinner wouldn't be ready on time, or the roast would be overcooked, or he saw me yawn during the service, or he thought mom smiled at the youth pastor for too long and-” Tommy's voice broke as he spoke. He cleared his throat, trying to keep it together.

All Buck wanted to do was wrap him up tight and make all his pain disappear.

“-and God, Evan, he'd get so angry. He'd get out his records and we knew, if he played one specific song, one of us was about to get it.”

It all clicked. “The song in the bar."

Tommy nodded. “The song in the bar.”

“Would he,” Buck paused, choosing his words carefully. “Did he hit you?”

“Not with his hands,” Tommy replied, “and never on the face. But he was a big believer in 'spare the rod, spoil the child'. He liked to use his belt.” He felt a phantom pain on his back, from lashes so painful he'd have to lean forward the whole time during the next church service. How it would hurt to sit down at school, often for days. How the belt would sometimes whack against his thigh and he'd have to wear pants for PE, even during the hottest months of the year, just so his shorts wouldn't ride up and someone see the marks. “It wasn't just physical stuff though,” Tommy added. “The things he'd say were worse, somehow. He'd call my mom every name in the book, shout slurs at me before I even thought I was gay. Tell us how worthless we were. Stuff like that. Then, by the next service, there were were, front and center. The perfect family.”

“Tommy, I- I don't even know what to say. I'm so sorry you went through that.”

“I'm okay,” he said, then huffed out a laugh, “except when I hear that song, apparently.”

“Triggers are funny like that, aren't they?”

“Yeah,” he rolled his eyes, “a real hoot.”

Buck let go of Tommy's hand just long enough to wrap his arms around him, letting Tommy rest his head on his shoulder. Buck pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Why don't we go to my place?” he suggested. “Put on a movie, eat a pint of ice cream.”

“We're supposed to be celebrating tonight, Evan.”

“We will be celebrating,” Buck assured him. “We'll be celebrating survival. Celebrating us. Celebrating, I don't know,” he laughed, “we'll think of something.”

Tommy raised his head just enough to look into Buck's eyes. “Love?”

Buck stared back, a smile growing on his face. “Love. Yeah, that, um, that sounds perfect.”

“Okay,” Tommy relented easily. He didn't feel like going back inside anyway. “You sure you don't wanna go back in? You can get a ride home with Eddie.”

“Tommy, I want to be with you. Everyone in there will understand. I'll send Eddie a text, tell him we're headed out. You pick the movie.”

They untangled themselves from each other so Buck could get his phone.

Tommy thought for a moment. “The Notebook, maybe? I feel like crying.”

He'd never been in a relationship before where he could admit something like that. Admit that sometimes he wanted to cry, needed to cry, and a movie could help him with that.

Evan was different though. Evan was safety. Evan was a person Tommy could talk to about anything, and never feel judgement.

“The Notebook is perfect. I'll order ice cream to be delivered while we're on the way.”

They got off the back of the truck and Tommy raised the tailgate. Before Buck could head for the passenger seat, Tommy placed a hand on his hip, spinning Buck back in his direction.

“I really do love you, Evan,” he said, his thumbs stroking at Buck's hipbone.

Buck reached up and rested his hands at the nape of Tommy's neck, pulling him in for a kiss. “I really do love you too, Tommy.”

As they got into the truck, Buck made a mental note to contact the bar tomorrow and ask them to change their playlist.

[llamagoddessofficial]

It was the best hidden room in his castle.

Nightmare appeared, emerging from within the liquid shadows at the far corner, taking on a solid form. The room had no doors- that was the trick to it. Only a being who already knew the room’s location in the castle, and had the ability to transport themselves through space, would be capable of accessing this place.

... Though there was no door, there was a window. Just one. A circular skylight, directly above the bed... it gave a perfect view of the stars.

It was a small, comfortable chamber, the obsidian walls draped with finely embroidered midnight blue tapestries to maintain warmth. Ancient murals, moons and interlocking patterns that had long lost their meaning, inlaid with silver- the silver caught the light from the small glowing blue stones that dotted the walls. The room was barely brighter than a dim twilight. 

Of course... the most important thing in the whole room was what was at the centre.

... Nightmare approached your bed.

A fine bed, of course. A large canopy draped luxuriously, for even more warmth, protection and quiet. Only the best for you. You were tucked under sumptuous sheets, your head upon a satin pillow, sweet little face barely visible under all the layers of comfort.

... He reached out, tucking the blanket down slightly, to get a better look at you. You were so peaceful. Your cheeks had regained some colour, over the past few days, as had your lips- but your eyelids did not move.

He knew what it looked like. If his damned brother found this room, and the sleeping human, he’d jump to conclusions (as he always did); Nightmare had stolen a human, cursed them with eternal sleep. Worst case scenario, Nightmare was tormenting this human as a sick game- best case scenario, Nightmare has grown so feverishly attached he would rather have someone sleep in his arms forever than be free to walk away from him.

...

And... well. It would be a lie to say that he wasn’t enjoying having you this way. But it was missing one crucial detail.

... You would wake up the moment you wanted to.

He sat on the bed, beside you. He reached out, and gently stroked your hair... enjoying the softness and texture.

You didn’t stir.

Nightmare had felt your pain far across your universe. Like a moth to a flame, he came to you- and though he originally had only the intent to feed, he loved you the moment he laid eyes on you. Your Soul, such a pretty thing, cracking under the weight of its pain; the fractures sparkled like fault lines in a diamond. You were holding the agony within, unwilling to let anyone know. You were on the verge of shattering. On the verge of your Soul going out.

When he came for you, you didn’t protest, you didn't even struggle.

You had looked at him with an empty, accepting expression.

Perhaps you thought he was death? Cute.

... So he took you, instead. You let him put his arms around you- he had never had someone accept him so completely, his jealous desire only intensified. He carried you back to his palace, he cradled you lovingly. Once your eyes had closed, he laid you down in the quietest room, in his finest bed... cuddled under his softest sheets and guarded by his most possessive magic.

The spell in question was one he hadn’t used in a long, long time. There was nothing on any Earth that could forcibly awaken you from your slumber. No sound, no touch, no pain nor magic. No power he (or any other great being) possessed, nothing in the wide multiverse. Nothing could awaken you from the outside.

But... the moment you wanted to open your eyes, you would. The tail of the Rupert’s drop. As if waking from a pleasant midday nap, the spell would shatter into dust around you.

It was a one-way spell. That was what made it so powerful.

... He continued to stroke your hair. Your dreams were safety- he ensured nothing crossed your mind but visions of peace and warmth. You curled deeper into his dreams like a hibernating rabbit. He could sense the injuries in your slowly Soul mending, your wounds slowly healing, as you were finally allowed to rest.

You had yet to even think of opening your eyes.

At that moment, the moon emerged. Its light passed through the skylight window... catching a small array of crystals that hung above your bed. Flecks of iridescence silently scattered across the walls, and over your face. 

“... beautiful.” He murmured. “no one will ever hurt you again, my darling. no one. i promise.”

...

... You, of course... did not even stir.

[razorblade180]

Union

In the midst of going over blueprints for their future home, Jaune’s concentration gets interrupted by flowing petals. He cracks a smile before turning around to see Ruby completely obscured by her cloak.

Jaune:Have you come for my soul?

Ruby:Might as well. Already have your heart.

Jaune:Heh, then I kindly ask for you wait. Your payment will be paid in full down the aisle.

Ruby:How stingy. I’ve already given you both of mine; and a little extra~

Jaune:*red* How was work, you gremlin?

Ruby:Patrol duty was fine. Starting to think crooks know my schedule.

Jaune:Or you threw most in jail.

Ruby:Organized crime calls for chaotic heroism. Anywho, house plans going well?

Jaune:More or less. If all goes well then we’ll be living outside Vacou before our anniversary.

Ruby:Always thinking ahead. Meanwhile I’m struggling with awesome vows.

Jaune:You brought a world together. I’m sure you’ll think of something.

Ruby:Feelings are a little harder than a battle cry or call to arms. Speaking of feelings, I have a little something for you.

Jaune:*looks at cloak* Is that so~

Ruby:*blushes* It’s not what you think! Not this time. This gift is way better!

Jaune:I don’t know Rubes. Last gift that started like this was pretty amazing. *smiles*

Ruby:Just close your eyes and hold your hands out!

The knight chuckles as he does what he’s told. Immediately something weighted and cool to the touch lands in hands. Jaune opens his eyes and stars at a white scabbard. Somehow, this took him by surprise. It had his symbol in the middle and was surrounded by red thorns.

The grip of the hilt was this dark blue with a spiral of fierce red that went up and outlined the golden hand guard that was modeled in the shape of his symbol. He pulled out the gift from the scabbard to reveal cold, shining white steel that had its double edge and tip run red like hilt. If Jaune was being honest, he’s never seen a sword look more like a work of fantasy. Ruby stood right in front of him and put her left hand in the hilt, showing that his symbol had subtle thorn and rose engravings that matched her gold and red on her engagement ring.

The accomplished and proud Huntress then took a step back and started twiddling her thumbs while swaying, finding it hard to meet Jaune’s gaze; so she pulled her hood over her head. At this point it probably matched her face.

Ruby Rose:So uh yeah, that’s a Ruby Rose Original.

Jaune:You made this!?

Ruby:*nods* I’ll be honest. I spent so long shopping for wedding bands with Weiss helping. I’m still definitely getting one! But none of them really… felt like they were saying how I feel. There’s not a moment I want you feel like you’re fighting alone; even when we’re far apart. With this, I’m always by your side ready to help. The scabbard is a shield too but if I’m being honest I’m still a rookie when it comes to that kind of smithing. Consider this my own form of engagement to you.

Jaune:Ruby this is…I don’t even know what to say.

Ruby:*trembly* I uh..it’s fine if you treat this as a ceremonial blade too. After all…there’s history in Crocea Mors and I don’t want to step on that or make you feel like you have to stop wielding it because of m-

Two hands gentle hands pull back her hood and reveal teary, anxious eyes. Honestly, Ruby felt so ridiculous right now. All this effort into a heart felt token of affection and yet anxiety gripped her mind on how he’d take the jester. His thumbs run across her cheeks to catch a few stray tears.

Jaune:Hey, talk to me. What’s with the tears? This is an amazing.

Ruby:I just…Crocea Mors is its own vow. It has been for years and I know I shouldn’t be feeling guilty or nervous but I do. Gods, it’s so dumb hehe. Pyrrha would totally give me an earful for being so-

Jaune:Thoughtful? *smiles*

Ruby:..Heh, yeah. Yeah she would.

Jaune:Well, I don’t know if your beautiful brain and smithing skills have noticed, but you’ve really gotten good at knowing my style.

He briefly lets go of her and grabs his sword along with the new gift. Jaune pulls out both and puts them against one another. Yeah the hilt is different but it’s wide enough to work. Without hesitation, Jaune took the scabbard of Crocea Mors and slid it on the new sword easily; right down to the satisfying click in place that took Ruby by surprise.

Jaune:If you really feel guilty, then I can do this! Not gonna lie, I’d feel like shit getting that scabbard dirty in the future. It’s my first Ruby Rose original! Also gives you time to hyper fixate on shield crafting. As for the blade, I know this bad boy will keep me safe and sou-

Once again, petals flowed. Each one danced around him while the rose itself pressed her lips against his with gratitude and overflowing joy that dispelled fears like magic.

Ruby:Jaune Arc, you truly are my fairytale ending. My happily ever after.

Jaune:Hehe, And you said your vows would be hard? C’mere.

He pulled his loving fiancée into a deeper kiss before matching her smile. She was right. This present was the best.

Jaune:Does this engagement sword have a name?

Ruby:The deepest part of my soul wants to call it Bloody Moon but that doesn’t inspire luck as wedding gift.

Jaune:I kinda like what you said a few moments ago.

Ruby:Oh, so Ever After?

Jaune: Tale’s End

Ruby:That’s so- damn I’m marrying the right person. That’s such I good name! When our house is done I think my first order of business is mounting the scabbard with Crocea Mors somewhere nice and proud. Gonna need your height though.

Jaune:Naturally. And who knows. Maybe it’ll protect the both of us in a new way someday?

xxxxxxx

Several years later

Jaune:Alright squirt, ready for your first real sword sparring!?

A foolish question for a young girl waiting to dives out the front door and slide across a sand dune into a wide battle stance, her grin in full bloom with Crocea Mor ready to aid her first step towards greatness.

Carmine:Born ready!

Ruby:Do your best! Show him who’s boss!

Carmine:Ha! With this by my side, I might as well be invincible.

[thesunloveschips]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 11: Through the Mating Bond

Summary: In the wake of Rhysand’s ascension as High Lord, the Bone Carver gifts a prophecy. More than five hundred years later, Azriel continues to wait for the one who is finally reborn as his High Lady’s sister. All it takes a dip in the Cauldron for things to start falling into place.

Chapter Summary: While Morrigan manages to distract Nyra from her distress, Azriel's desires and insecurities clash. And dinner has yet to be served.

Warnings: Brief mentions of sexual activity and Azriel's traumatic past.

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

Azriel's POV

Azriel sighed in relief when the Archeron twins walked in for dinner. Both of them were wearing dark blue gowns. The gold in her hair gleamed under the warm light. And with all the strength of the warrior he had honed himself to become, he restrained his gaze from moving all over her body no matter how exquisite she was. He decided her eyes were a good place to settle his gaze but he took in all of her face.

The faelights draped over her like a transparent curtain. Her eyes—those lovely blues had been draped by a golden hue. The edges of her irises darkened and like the quiet sea at sunset, they waited for the moon to eventually rise and command the tides. The mole on the right side of her face right where her cheekbone was. Lips glossed lightly and he looked again into those eyes, wishing they would look at him.

Azriel felt her confusion through the bond. He tightened the grip on his glass, knowing how much he wanted to go over there and embrace her. To see the seas in her eyes and tell her that it was going to be fine. But the shadows were already reprimanding him. She is confused. Pained.

This was wrong. He’d only wanted to meet his mate because Maia had died too young. Azriel remembered the girl who’d been born as Rhysand’s sister. After the Lady of the Night Court had given birth to her daughter, it was Azriel who had first held her. The High Lord of Night had been disappointed at the birth of a female–a feeling that evolved to awkwardness and indifference as the girl grew up. 

With Morrigan to groom her into a lady befitting of her lineage, Cassian to become more of an older brother than Rhys since the latter had unknowingly become a father to his sister in the absence of the High Lord, and Azriel as her guardian from the shadows, Maia grew. And yet, her life had ended brutally, just two months shy of seventeen. 

Nyra was that girl. But she was not. Maia was a child. Nyra was an adult. And he knew that despite sharing the same soul, Maia and Nyra were completely different people. One was a girl he’d watched over as a good friend. The other was a… Cauldron fuck him, how should he even think about this female? She was glowing and healthy and beautiful and so fucking endearing as she looked at him when he’d mentioned chocolate cake. 

Wasn’t it wrong to be attracted to her? 

He’d waited for her only to give her the life she deserved to live as Maia. There were no romantic intentions even though he’d been thoroughly uninterested in pursuing females for the past five hundred years for love. For so long, he’d thought about Maia and how he’d take her reincarnated person to see the world and eat different cuisines, and meet different people and learn so many new things.

He had accepted that Maia would be reborn with a different face, would belong to a different race, could even be a male and whatever affections he’d had for her as a good friend would continue. He imagined a faceless figure whenever he thought about Maia’s new form and now that there was a face to fill that blank space, his thoughts had begun spiralling. 

Azriel wanted to give her freedom and resources to utilise that freedom and he’d collected so much. So much money and books. He’d made a list of all the places to visit and planned out so much so that Maia wouldn’t miss anything. And he’d imagined that her happiness would make him content and he’d watch from the sidelines. But now, he wanted to be a participant. He wanted to make her happy and provide for her. And this female, so lost and confused—he wanted to be reliable for her. 

And none of his shadows were in favour of his original plan to simply be friends with whoever Maia would reincarnate as and watch them be happy. They wanted him to be involved, wanted him to court Nyra, tell her how indescribably beautiful she was and to tell her about the mating bond. They wanted him to be hers. And gods help him because his thoughts and desires were starting to take that route. 

Azriel knew that despite his hesitations, he would succumb. He would want to be hers truly because this was Nyra. And from all that he knew about Nyra Archeron, there would never be anyone who wouldn’t want to be hers unless they were fools. To be her sister, her friend, her brother, her daughter, her son, her mother, her father—to have any sort of connection to her was a blessing. And he knew that it was only a matter of days before he would, without hesitation, want to be her mate in the truest sense of the word. To be her partner, her husband, her companion, her lover. To be able to touch her and kiss her and hold her. To make love to her. 

And fuck him but she looked so extraordinarily adorable despite her distress. Through the bond, he felt her annoyance at the doubts that seemed to pop up constantly but were never clarified. Her eyes scanned everything and everyone. And the shadows swarmed over to her, stopping a few feet away, waiting for her permission. She watched them and Azriel felt her as she recognised them. The storm within her calmed a little as the shadows wrapped themselves around her extended hand and the rest of them settled down on her skirts.

Azriel heard her breathing and her heart rate return to normal. She continued to look at the shadows as they snaked around her fingers and palm and wrist. Her features softened and then she looked up and found him. His breath hitched as she tilted her head to the side and Azriel felt a small smile make its way on his face. Through the string, he felt her surprise and watched her nod to him. He raised his glass to take a sip.

It surprised him, how much he could feel through the bond. Nyra felt so much with such depth to the point where he'd suspected that she would dissect her feelings into parts and peer into them just to ensure that there was no confusion. However that clarity seemed to be absent as she looked at Feyre with a lack of recognition and consequently, a growing sense of guilt. It was a seed and it was starting to germinate. 

The shadowsinger stood straight as he watched the Morrigan waltz over to the twins, knowing how meddlesome the female could be. "Where did those come from?" Mor's voice brought out her surprise and awe as she began closely inspecting the gowns and their fabric. "I want one too."

The shadowsinger felt his mate’s confusion and guilt be destroyed before it could sprout. Nyra's examining eyes were now trained on Mor as the blonde female took the fabric of her skirt and examined it. Mor thoroughly inspected the dress and the design and was even more impressed. Midnight blue silk with gently flowing skirts and a bodice that subtly brought their figures to notice. While Nesta opted for one with a collar neckline, Nyra's gown had a square neckline which revealed all the skin he suddenly wanted to claim with his mouth.

The mere idea of touching her brought with it the onslaught of memories. And all of a sudden, Azriel was a boy, weeping as his hands were burned, howling for his mother. It had rained that day in response. He remembered the voice he had heard from that day onwards. What it said. How he felt after hearing it. The voice had disappeared after he'd been thrown into Windhaven and the only proof of it was etched on his back, cleverly concealed by his shadows. But the way his hands hurt for weeks came back to him. The memory of pain began to take over and Azriel immediately set his glass aside and moved his hands behind him. He clenched it again and again.

Those days are gone. And now, she's here. Mate. Mistress. Ours. The shadows whispered more and more about how the bad days were gone and how Nyra was the beginning of something good. But now, he was transported back to when he had killed someone for the first time. Some irrelevant person who'd called his mother a whore for birthing a bastard like him. He'd travelled through the shadows for the first time and killed the foulmouthed asshole within the next five seconds. Azriel was twelve. The faces of all other people and many faceless people from the distant past he'd killed and tortured and killed flashed by. And the blood in his hands was a constant.

Scarred hands, bloodied and wielding the Truth Teller and other weapons. This was who he was. And Azriel dared to glance at Nyra's hands. Slender and so much smaller than his own. 

Untainted. 

Unlike his own. 

He had no right to be her mate. Azriel did not know the exact moment he had placed her on a pedestal. She sat above everything and he was beneath it all, not even worthy to be a stone that would lie in her path. To think of touching her was blasphemous, the act itself a sacrilege. It should never happen. It could never happen, no matter how violently he’d started to desire it.

But even when he’d begun to label the act of touching Nyra as something forbidden, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

"It's a good thing we're not the same size or else I might be tempted to steal your dresses." Mor smiled coyly. Pretending had to take a pause. He looked in their direction to see Mor's smirk aimed at him. And Azriel looked away as all the decency of thoughts that he had somehow managed to bring about evaporated without a second's notice. Feyre. Looking here. No. He had to stop thinking about touching her. Someone as undeserving as him could never have any right to even request such a thing.

"Likely right off them." Cassian's remark was an unhelpful one. Mor's smirk widened, bordering on mischief and desire. And no matter how much Azriel tried to distract himself from looking at Nyra, even thinking of her, the bond did not let him. And neither did the shadows. He felt her confusion take a back seat as Mor's contagious smile began affecting her. She was remembering the time when she had teased Azriel and Cassian about fucking in the forests outside the Archeron estate. An adventurous tumble, she called it. And then there was Cassian, going along with it and extending an invitation to join them.

Azriel felt like his salivary glands were working too well at that moment. The thought of Nyra between him and Cassian, all of them nude, brought about another moment of desire before he felt someone pinch his neck.

"Control yourself. You're not an adolescent." Cassian whispered to him. "You can get through dinner, right?"

Azriel had to truly contemplate that. The female had been here for not more than twenty minutes and he had already felt so much. Admiration for her beauty, concern for her distress, amusement at how endearing she was, a trip down the lane of traumatic memories, arousal. And all of it was his own feelings. He could also feel her through the bond and that was an entirely different category.

"I hope so." Azriel stole another glance at the sisters. Nesta looked rather unimpressed by what Mor said and Nyra was looking at Feyre who was smiling at her older sister. And he felt her helplessness at not being able to smile back.

Nyra's confusion was a wound that seemed to be getting infected. Azriel realised that she seemed to no longer recognise the person Feyre had turned into and that was hurting her. The guilt of not being able to identify this woman as the girl she raised in the neglect of their mother.

The way Nyra seemed to feel like Feyre was no longer her sister or even an Archeron was all too palpable for him. Did she feel like the Inner Circle had stolen Feyre from the Archeron family? Azriel did not know and Nyra looked at Mor again, trying to forget what she had just felt. All while the youngest Archeron smiled oblivious to her sister's inner turmoil. What was that bit about her mother? Azriel was curious and he stored that information away for future references.

"Fortunately for you, I don't return the sentiment." Nesta did not bother looking at Morrigan for the fear of her power and claimed a seat. Azriel coughed. His own surprise slammed into him as Mor took Nyra's hands in her own, the shadows on his mate's hand retreating just enough to avoid any contact with Mor's skin.

Azriel focused on their mating bond, taking deep breaths to calm himself. Once he had decreed himself to have calmed down significantly, he tried to remember what it was when he met Nyra for the first time. The state of his mind when he met the woman who had rushed to greet her youngest sister after so long. The conversations. A female like no other. Truly incomparable. And the peace he felt, he pushed towards the bond. He saw her shoulders relax and how she had begun calming down.

Nyra looked at Mor who smiled brightly at her. "Do you? Return the sentiment, I mean."

"May I take off your dress?" Nyra looked at her, eyebrows raised. Azriel stopped himself from taking a sip of his whiskey lest he spit it out or choke on it.

To take off that dress. Removing the straps resting on her shoulder. Unzipping it from the back to reveal more skin. Warm and golden under the faelights. To move behind her. Kiss her ear, her neck. Removing those silver combs that let her curls remain in a bun and to watch them drop down. Gather her hair in his hand to push them to her front. To let his mouth descend and taste her back. Pulling that dress down as he got on his knees behind her.

Talons knocked at the doors of Azriel's mental fortress, pulling him out of his fantasy. Control your scent, brother. Rhysand's voice came as a warning. He had to control his scent, desires and his aroused state. This was not the time or place for his mind to go wild and start fantasising about... Moving on.

"Why would you want to do that?" Nyra asked, genuinely brightening up due to the mischief Mor had started cooking. Azriel felt like he had sinned with his filthy fantasies about this adorable darling of a female who was his mate. Why was she so... everything? He picked up his glass of whiskey and drank a good amount of it.

"Your dress is beautiful." Mor trailed a finger from Nyra's temple and pushed a strand behind her ear. Nyra controlled her shivers but the shadows told him how sensitive she felt her ears were. He really wanted to test that. With a lick to her earlobe before he took it between his teeth for a soft nibble. No, he could never touch her. "And so are you."

At this point, Azriel remembered how the conversation between the brothers and the Bone Carver was supposed to be a secret. The three Illyrians had bargained over that and three stars were subsequently tattooed on their bodies as evidence. No one would know until the three of them decided unanimously to tell them. And that was how Feyre came to know. Amren suspected something but did not pry.

Mor did not know anything at all. Nothing about the possibility that the female standing in front of her was once her cousin. Very distant cousin but that was beside the point. And Azriel, who knew it, felt the bile rise at the back of his throat at the potentially incestuous interaction taking place... No. It was important to remember that this female was Nyra and not Maia. Even though they shared the same soul, the person was different.

"I will ask you if I require assistance in removing this. Will that be fine?" Nyra did not really consider what reaction her reply would evoke but the surprise in Morrigan's face was rather amusing. Mor's brown eyes widened and she swallowed. It was fun, Nyra decided. Azriel could not help his smile but he did hide it behind his glass of whiskey. And just when he thought he could finally have a moment of peace, Nyra spoke. "Your reaction is rather interesting. What is going on inside that pretty head of yours?"

Mor blinked, not expecting such a response. In fact, none of them had. It was the sort of thing they'd either heard or spoken while flirting with females and males. Oh fuck, she was starting to get into this. Azriel watched them, wondering whether he should be jealous of Mor. The red of the Truth Speaker's dress and wine seemed to seep into her cheeks. "What?" That was the only intelligent reply the blonde female managed.

"What?" Nyra repeated and looked at the blonde female with raised eyebrows and a mischievous look. She then released her hands from hers, took a step back, turned towards the seat with a gentle twirl of her skirts, pulled the chair next to her twin's back. She moved to sit down and adjust the chair according to her. Azriel felt the delight coursing through Nyra. Thank gods, all her distress seemed to vanish for the night.

Azriel did not understand how this female who had panicked like she had witnessed the end of the world was now standing and making such light hearted conversation. It was a strength, he recognised. Something he'd seen in every member of his unconventional family from time to time. To be confronted with the worst and then having to pretend as though nothing had happened. And Nyra was having fun teasing Mor.

A faint blush covered the blonde female's cheeks at the implication of Nyra's words. And for the first time, she saw Nyra for the striking beauty she was. Mor's gaze travelled from Nyra's face to her neck and so did Azriel's. Under the golden lights that brought out the colour of the Archeron sisters' hair, Nyra's hair glowed faintly on one side of her neck while the other side remained exposed. Cassian pinched Azriel's ear and that brought him out of his trance. The shadowsinger glared at his brother only for them to look towards the dining table when Nesta cleared her throat rather loudly.

"Well... I..." Mor fumbled, clearly not used to being the one to blush during flirtations.

"That's what I thought." Nyra raised an eyebrow. The teasing look was a new one for all of them. The shadows twirling around her fingers and palms cried out in joy, dancing at Nyra's good mood. Mor grinned broadly and shot him a cheeky wink before claiming her seat opposite Nyra. Cassian let out a snort and Azriel jabbed him with his elbow at the ribs before moving to claim his seat at the dining table.

The shadowsinger sat next to Mor, not opposite to Nyra but not too far away that he couldn't see her properly. From this angle, he could see if she was eating properly and if she got a chance to taste every dish. And if she liked any, he could keep a note and ensure she got more servings. Cassian had left momentarily to raid the wine collection and returned with a few bottles cuddled to his chest. Wine, Azriel would consume as easily as breathing. At this point, he'd need something stronger than whiskey even.

****

TAGLIST:

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[fiber-optic-alligator]

Desperation vs. Domestication (Pt. 2)

Pairing: IDW Drift x Human Reader

WARNING: This story contains soft vore. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read this story.

Word Count: 4431

Summary: Though you have been lulled into a deep sense of security by Drift's kindness and comfort, you still haven't completely lost the need to be free. A terrible nightmare refuels your desire for escape...but Drift isn't someone who wants to let you go.

HEEHEEHEEHEE I REALLY WANTED TO WRITE A PART 2 OF THIS...so I did. It's because Drift is my all-time favorite Transformer and I absolutely LOVE putting my favorite characters through angst. If you enjoyed reading part 1, then I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Likes, comments, feedback, and reblogs are never expected, but always appreciated! Enjoy! :D

Here is the link to pt. 1 if you haven’t read it!

Also available to read on AO3!

  Two months later…

  You dream of Earth tonight.

  There are fields; you are standing in one. Long Bermuda grass tickles your ankles with the gentle presence of the planet recognizing its own. The endless green is splattered with occasional droplets of color: pink poppies, yellow sunflowers, marigolds, dandelions. It is warm. There is a slight wind blowing, playing with your hair. You turn your face towards the sunlight and bask in the relief of knowing you are home.

  All of a sudden, you hear a sound. Thumping. Steady, rhythmic. Loud. You feel the wind die down and suddenly the sun is gone, and there is only darkness. A massive shadow blots out all of the light. You see a figure looming over you, red-and-white with bright blue eyes that stare into your soul and make you feel terror.

  You try to run, but find you cannot move your legs. There is nothing you can do when you watch a giant hand reach down in slow motion and pluck you up, holding you between titanic fingers. The monster’s mouth opens, and then you are tumbling down, right into an abyss of metal and isolation. The Earth melts away forever. You are trapped. You are alone.

  Shooting forward out of your nightmare, you hear yourself scream. The squishy floor underneath you makes you lose your footing when you scramble upward in a blind panic and fall into Drift’s stomach wall. Everything moves, the organ grumbling unhappily at you being awake. Your hands scramble at the mesh cables. Little pink bubbles of cybernetic blood pop anxiously beneath their semi-transparent surfaces. The walls close in to squeeze, holding you in a secure hug, attempting to keep you still. But you cannot think. You are scared, and you feel trapped, so you desperately begin to thrash and fight against the stomach.

  Drift’s voice booms above you, panicked. “Little one? Little one?!”

  “Let me go!” you shriek. “Please, letmegoletmegoletmego!”

  The walls loosen up, freeing you. You collapse into the fetal position, gasping while sweat beads your brow and your heart goes crazy.

  Drift presses his hands over his middle. “Little one, little one, shhhh, shh, shh, shh,” he hushes frantically. “Safe, safe…safe, all is safe...no need for fear…”

  Gradually, you calm down. Only when you are no longer trembling does Drift tentatively begin to squeeze you again. In and out, slow kneading, like he’s silently coaxing you to continue breathing at a healthier pace. “Little one…okay?” he asks.

  Your voice quivers. “I-I’m fine. I’m okay. It-It was a bad dream. A nightmare.” You sit upright and lean into the stomach wall. Drift holds you close, the undulating muscle relaxing you with its constant massage. His biolights pulse and flicker, a clear sign of his stress. You woke him up with your screams. It makes you feel bad, so you snuggle his cables further. The robot’s stomach is not a big place, but Drift likes to be conscious of you. The support you provide him in completing this task is obviously appreciated, because he hums softly and pats his hand over where you are.

  There is peace again. Peace and warmth. But you don’t feel the usual safety. There is a lingering pit of dread growing deep within your gut, foul roots clawing their way through your body, leaving you jittery, uneased. Your nightmare is the first one in months, and it’s a sure sign things are not right.

  It has been such a long time since you thought of your possible escape plan. You don’t know how long, but you do know that you can’t be comfortable here anymore. Your mind is sending the signals loud and clear.

  No more stalling, you think to yourself. No more being complacent.

  You are not domesticated yet.

  When Drift lets you out of here…you will go through with the plan to take an escape pod home. For real this time.

  It takes you weeks to perfect your plan. And when you do finally have it all figured out, you come to the conclusion that things may end up being more complicated than you thought. Escaping a spaceship filled with giant alien robots is hard enough, yes. But then there’s the issue of what will happen when you return to Earth. You don’t know how long you’ve been abducted. It could be months. It could be years. What if all of your family and friends are long gone by the time you get home? What if things are so different that you’ve been completely left behind?

  No. You can’t think like that. A sharp patting to your cheeks snaps you out of it. Keep it together. This is the moment you have been waiting for. Regardless of what awaits you on Earth, you will be there to face it.

  You’ve packed everything you own into a small fabric knapsack your mech gifted you during your first days here (Who knew robots are such good knitters?). It’s not much, not much at all: snacks Drift gives you, strange pellets that clean your teeth, three cans of filtered water…but that’s all you really require for the trip you are going to embark on. You don’t believe it will be particularly long. The escape pods need to have some sort of device that allows them to leap through lightyears to their destinations. You believe this because you’ve watched the mothership do it from the observation windows Drift likes to bring you to sometimes. Hyperspace will occasionally be activated, with stars and planets blurring together into dazzling white paint streaks before coming to an abrupt halt in a totally new galaxy.

  Now, do you know how lightjumping works? Absolutely not. Last time you were on Earth, no such human technology had been invented yet. So you don’t exactly know how you’ll get the escape pod to lightjump like the ship does. But you’ll find a way. You have no choice.

  Now for the hard part: getting away from Drift long enough to activate the escape pod and blast away. He’s not going to make it easy for you. Drift doesn’t like letting you out of his sight if you aren’t in his room, and hardly lets you roam free. You’ve spent hours, both within his stomach and out, pondering how to go about this. It’s left you with the agonizing decision that you’ll just have to wing it somehow.

  The door to his room slides open. You’ve been sitting on his berth with your hands beneath your head and one leg crossed over the other, thinking, thinking, thinking, that at first you nearly didn’t hear him come in. You sit up to greet him with more eagerness than you’d like to show. The nightmare didn’t stop your affection for Drift from rearing its persistent head.

  There’s no waiting for him to give you his time today. When he enters the room, his focus is immediately on you with no prior distractions. Drift walks with a spring in his step, his finials perking up like an enthusiastic dog. You notice a small white box he holds in one hand, and think nothing of it. Drift’s room is decorated with countless knickknacks from other planets. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s brought some strange little souvenir home.

  “Hey, big guy,” you murmur happily when he kneels down before you. He settles the box to the side and cups both hands behind you, humming his typical car engine-purr greeting. You hug him when he draws you forth so he can nuzzle his nose into your middle. “I’m guessing you missed me?”

  Drift beep-boops excitedly. He gives you an affectionate tickle to your side, causing you to giggle. Your reaction delights him. He keeps it up, and pretty soon you are laughing so hard your stomach hurts. “D-Drift, s-stop! I-I can’t breathe!”

  He gives you one last light prod, then ends the bout of torture with more cuddles. You recover from the laughter, feeling airy and light like nothing else matters except for the giant robot holding you.

  “Little one,” he coos. “My little one.”

  “Mhm,” you mumble goodnaturedly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m yours.”

  He suddenly looks like he’s remembered something very important, and he straightens, chirping rapidly. You watch as he grabs the white box and, to your surprise, presents it to you. You glance at it, then turn to him. “For me?” you ask, pointing at yourself.

  He chirps again and nods.

  You take it from him and open it with a slight air of confusion, because he’s never given you something like this before. You think it might be a piece of jewelry, or some sort of charm. But what you see inside is neither of those things. You suck in a sharp breath of pure disbelief and go numb.

  It’s a collar. A damn collar. Sleek and narrow, its solid red with a single white stripe circumnavigating it. On one side is a strange symbol of a boxy red robot’s face-the same symbol he has on his chest. These are his colors, you realize. He’s making us match. He wants the other mechs to know that he owns you.

  Drift rumbles expectantly. When you remain frozen, unable to pry your eyes away from the collar, he gently pries it out of your now slightly shaking hands. With extreme carefulness, he clasps it around your neck. It fits comfortably and locks with a quiet click.

  “My little one,” he repeats. “Mine.”

  He’s not trying to scare you. You know he isn’t. Yet your throat is dry, and the snug weight of the collar makes you feel sick.

  You need to get the hell off of this ship.

  You spend the night feverishly trying to break the collar off, working yourself up like a caged animal driven mad by captivity. But no matter how hard you yank at it, it remains stubbornly fast around your neck. You refuse to eat the food given to you and cry yourself to sleep within a very concerned Drift’s belly, who can’t seem to console you no matter how hard he tries.

  Drift doesn’t know what to do with you.

  You’ve been moping ever since he gave you the collar. Over the next few days, any sort of drive to escape has left you. You're depressed and disappointed in him for what he’s done. You don’t want to talk to him. You don’t want to accept any of his gifts. Blanket after pillow after plushie-all made by him, with the crude markings of homemade love-are ignored. You shy away from his touch and reject his attention. When he swallows you at night, you give him no inclination you care. You sit like a stone within him and just…stare off vacantly, unable to ignore the collar around your neck.

  He’s brought you to the ship’s doctor multiple times. On the first trip, the old red medic bot looked you over and finished his checkup with a shrug and dismissive chuff. The second time, he growled at Drift and waved him away. And on the third time, he didn’t even let him through the door. There’s nothing physically wrong with you. But mentally, how could they know? How could he know he’s hurt you? You trusted him to treat you with some level of respect despite your situation, and he had, until now. The collar was your breaking point. There truly is no way for him to ever see you as anything more than a pet, and it hurts you, because by god, you love him.

  “…Little one?”

  Drift calls out to you with a soft, sad tone. You huddle up tighter beneath one of your blankets and give no answer.

  You hear him shift at his desk. There’s silence between the two of you that is not wanted. He heaves a low sigh and tries again. “Little one…please?”

  Damn your heart, you can’t keep giving him the silent treatment when he sounds like he’s about to cry.

  You push the blanket off of your head. Drift slouches in his chair, back bent like an old man’s. His finials are drooping, and the glow from his biolights is dimmer than usual. He’s obviously been letting his personal hygiene go for the sake of finding a way to help you, and it hurts to know he’s in this state because of your shitty attitude towards what he simply sees as a gift. The collar is a curse, but you can’t exactly tell him that, can you? This entire situation is all your fault.

  It's the treacherous part of your mind which attempts to convince you of this. It partially works. Giving in, you sit up slowly, drawing the blanket tightly around your shoulders and tilting your head while giving him a questioning look.

  He’s surprised by your action, like he genuinely wasn’t expecting you to respond to this extent. But he takes advantage of it. Drift offers you a hopeful smile and picks something up from his desk. He stands and walks to you, going slow. You don’t flinch when he crouches down to your level. The warm light of his eyes leaves a kind feeling on your skin.

  Tentatively, Drift extends his hand. In his palm is a piece of chocolate, one of the many treats he has at his disposal to provide you with when he feels you are being especially good. It’s an olive branch. A reach in the right direction.

  You hesitate…and then you think, Oh, what the hell. Staying mad at Drift when he has no clue he’s done something wrong in the first place won’t get you anywhere. So you accept the candy and take a small bite.

  He sags with relief, exhaust whooshing from his nose as he watches you eat. When you're finished, he moves his hand closer, twining the palm around you and resting the tips of his digits against your head and sides. You hold his index finger, resting your forehead against it and closing your eyes as a sign of trust. But you feel guilty.

  “I’m sorry,” you whisper, knowing he won’t understand. But you say it anyway. “I love you. I love you so, so much. But you're destroying me. I can’t stay here anymore.”

  A tear slips down your cheek. You don’t notice it until Drift gently brushes it away.

  “I have to go.” Your voice breaks. “I need to leave. I hope you’ll learn why. And I hope you won’t hate me for it. I-I don’t think I could handle it if you did. Please don’t hate me. Please don’t think I hated you.”

  Drift coos. His reply is indecipherable. You think he’s trying to comfort you…but you’ll never know for sure.

  He doesn’t swallow you tonight. You don’t know why; maybe he thinks you need a break. Maybe he just wants to hold you in a different fashion this time. You stay awake hours after he falls asleep, your little form nestled in the crook of his neck while he snoozes on his stomach with his arms crossed beneath his massive pillow. You peer off into the darkness, listening to his quiet breaths.

  For the longest time, you’ve thought of this room as yours and his. A space the two of you share together. Ours. It's fed into your delusional ideations of a future in which the two of you learn each other’s languages, where you stand on equal ground, you belonging to him and him belonging to you. A future where mechs and humans join hands and say “I see you. I know you. I understand you and you understand me. Neither of us is higher than the other.”

  But it will never happen. The collar around your neck is physical proof. There is no future between the two of you anymore. If you want to be you again…you need to let Drift go.

  You shuffle away from the bot’s neck and stand. The only parts of him that are lit up right now are the red symbol on his chest and the soft blue of his mouth. He’s so peaceful. This giant alien, who you know has fought in many battles from the scars you can see, is soothed by your presence. You, an insignificant little human being. The dynamic is honestly quite hilarious. You're like his very own version of a chihuahua.

 You want to hug his nose, knowing you will never have another chance again. But Drift is a light sleeper, and you're testing the waters enough already. You can’t risk it. It pains you, but you drop your arms and turn away.

  Using the metal ladder he made for you so you’d have easy access to his berth, you climb down and grab your knapsack. Quietly padding across the long expanse of the room, you make it to the door. It senses your presence and slides open. You force yourself not to look back when you walk out.

   You wonder if he will cry for you when he wakes up and finds you gone.

  The spaceship is ominous at night. The only thing you can hear as you traverse the hallways is your heartbeat pulsing in your ears. You're trying to be quiet; passing by multiple rooms with slumbering bots inside has you holding your breath and then letting it out in a forcefully slow, reedy wheeze. You are, after all, a mouse in a prison filled with cats; slow and steady and silent wins the race.

  You survey the elevator when you get to it, at a loss of how you’ll possibly find a way to operate it due to how small you are. A miracle finds its way to you, however, in the form of a mech. This one you don’t recognize. He has a similar color scheme to Drift, but is noticeably bulkier, with a strange cannon sitting on his right shoulder and a blue eyepiece over the adjacent optic. All of his focus is on the datapad in his hands as he summons the elevator. You wait for the doors to open and for him to step inside before darting after him. Luckily he doesn’t look up once on the short journey. Your cover remains unblown when the doors part again and he heads off. You go in the opposite direction, because like hell are you going to follow the strange robot to someplace where there are probably more strange robots.

  You slip in and out of sight, staying far away from any mechs who are awake. They do not see you, which means you are doing this right-though there are some alarming instances where you think you’ll be caught. One such occurrence happens when a tall, thin blue mech with a chest like the front of a helicopter nearly sees you duck into an open storage room for quick cover. Its single orb ominously scans the darkened room. You watch from beneath a large shelving unit, terrified out of your mind. You don’t move, nor do you make a sound, keeping a shaking hand over your mouth.

  Finally, after what feels like hours, the mech stomps away. You let your head fall forward respitefully.

  You know you're nearing your one-way ticket to Earth when you see bright yellow signs plastered on the walls with loud black alien words telling you to hurry left with the help of large arrows. Escape pod symbols, accompanied by a funny little robot mascot, are the giveaway. You feel a sort of giddy euphoria swell up within you. You're almost there. You're going to escape. You're going to go home. It all seems far too good to be true; sure, you’ve imagined this scenario happening over and over again, but you never really did believe it would happen.

  You pinch your arm multiple times just to make sure you aren’t dreaming. This is not in your head. This is happening. You really are going back to Earth.

  Your collar suddenly vibrates. And then it starts to screech.

  You nearly jump out of your own skin. The alarm is loud, piercing, and undeniably going to alert someone to your presence. You slam your fists against it multiple times, but it doesn’t let up. Your heart sinks when the realization of what's going on hits.

  Shit. He put a tracker in it.

  You need to run. You shove yourself forward into a full-on sprint, dashing down the last remainder of this hallway, then turning the corner and seeing the numerous escape pods all lined up in the wall. You choose the first one, grabbing the edge of the circular door and pulling with all of your might. The tendons in your neck strain as you grunt and slowly bring the door back with you. Clamoring in, you give it one last heave before it shuts on its own and seals you inside. You hear the lock click into place. The entire cabin flickers to life, with the lights on and the control panel booting up. As you expected, everything is far too big for you to reach. But it seems you won’t need to. A loud robotic voice emanates from the central console, speaking to you in the native mech language.

  Your collar is still going off. You don’t have a lot of time.

  “I-I can’t understand you!” you yell over the din. “I’m a human, from Earth! I speak English!”

  The voice pauses. Seconds later, to your amazement, it talks, and you can understand. “Language notifications made. Destination updated. Scanning…” A panel on the ceiling pops open, and a blue light filters out, washing over you. “Scanning complete. Species: Homo Sapien. Homeworld: Earth. Milky Way Galaxy. Status: Critically endangered. Suggesting immediate travel to Earth.”

  You clap your hands. “Yes! Yes, that’s it! Earth, set the destination to Earth!”

  “Destination set. Awaiting command to launch LOST LIGHT LIFEPOD 01.”

  You are about to give the order when something slams against the door. You whirl around, your heart stuttering when you see who’s there. It’s Drift. He’s made it. And he looks horrified. With trembling fingers, he yanks on the handle. When the pod remains fastly shut, he pounds on the circular window with so much force the entire thing shudders and you think he’s going to rip it right off of its hinges. “Little one!” he screams, voice muffled beyond the barrier of glass. “Little one! Open…!” The rest of the sentence comes out as sharp metal shrieks.

  You stand there helplessly. The pod once again inquires for your command, yet you can’t find it within yourself to speak.

  Drift is doing everything he can to get to you. He’s like a rabid beast, clawing at the window, teeth bared in visible frustration. His biolights are going mad when he roars and sends his whole body into the door. This time, it does give a little. You can see some dents in the gray metal.

  This…is a side of Drift you have never seen. It is desperate, vicious. And it terrifies you. You stumble back to the opposite end of the pod and curl up, hugging your knapsack to your chest like a child squeezing their favorite stuffed animal. Drift continues his futile attack on the door, but pauses when he makes eye contact with you. His face falls. His fists relax and slide downward to press palm against the glass.

  He’s quiet as he seems to reflect on how he just presented himself front of you, then whispers heartbrokenly. “...Sorry.” Tears stream down his cheeks. His hot vexation melts away and exposes his remorseful center. “Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Little one. Y/N.”

  Oh my god.

  All noise ceases when you register what he just said. Your name. He said your name. He’s never done that before. You didn’t think he knew your name.

  He learned to say it. For you.

  Drift whimpers like a kicked dog, moving to crouch lower. “Y/N. Y/N, please. Stay. Stay with me. Please don’t go. I love you.”

  You’ve changed his life. You don’t need to be told this. You know you’ve brought him a sense of joy he hasn’t felt in years. You didn’t come here of your own free will. But you freely chose to love him. You gave yourself up and became his everything while he became yours. Isn’t he your home? Isn’t he the one who saved you? Can you really leave someone who cares about you so much?

  Your legs move on their own accord. Your heart beats with his and you take tentative steps towards the door. Drift twitters and gives you an encouraging nod, gesturing for you to keep walking.

  Why do you want to leave him so badly? Why would you want to throw away this perfect life?

  Your little human hands come to rest right over his massive robotic ones. You two are separated, but you think you can feel the warmth coming from him. Drift bonks his forehead against the window anticipatingly. “Come on,” he whispers. “Come on. It’s…okay. You're okay. Please.”

  Your hands are human. You will never see another pair again if you return to him.

  Your life is not supposed to be perfect. A human’s life is messy, and disastrous, and chaotic, and beautiful. His life is too, but not in the same way as yours.

  “Goodbye, Drift,” you murmur, voice breaking. “LOST LIGHT LIFEPOD 01…take me to Earth.”

  The escape pods hums and rumbles. “Command accepted,” it announces. “Preparing ejection in three…two…one.”

  The last thing you see and hear before the pod lurches forward and rockets out of its dock is Drift’s agonized expression and his wrenching wail.

  Your vessel speeds away. You get a fantastic view of the ship in all of its stunning glory. It felt so gigantic when you were inside, but from out here, you can fully comprehend its overwhelming proportions. You watch it rapidly shrink as you gain distance from it, until it's just another speck of light in the universe. And when you can’t even see that anymore, you allow yourself to collapse against the floor eagles-spread. You gaze up at the ceiling, feeling surprisingly hollow. There is no victorious sense of triumph, no excitement to return home. You don’t even know where home is anymore. Somehow, after everything you’ve gone through, you’ve come out even more lost than you already were.

  The waterworks start shortly after the escape pod jumps into hyperspace. Heaving sobs, messy tears, you lie there and weep to the stars, not noticing when your collar finally stops beeping.

[sports-on-sundays]

Summary: Romantic Christmas walk with Charles. Extreme fluffy tropes. Charles being a complete and utter sap.

Requested?: Of course not.

You watch as snow gently falls in the golden glow of the streetlights lining the road. Shops are lit up with warm lights, illuminating all sorts of gifts to be bought by one person for another person they love- teddy bears, golden jewelry, winter attire, and the like.

There's a certain magical feeling in the crisp air gently blowing your hair and stinging your rosy pink cheeks. Golden fairy lights line the buildings, and as you walk past diners and bakeries, sweet scents of soups and pastries fill your nostrils. Despite the cold outdoor temperatures, there's an expected warmth in your heart. Christmas fills the air and your soft heart, and as you near the centre of this little town your boyfriend has brought you to, the sound of a small, makeshift choir singing classical Christmas songs starts to faintly reach your ears.

Your boyfriend's hand slips into yours, his warm gloved hand wrapped around your exposed red freezing fingers. You look up, and your eyes meet his. His cheeks are pink, and steam comes from his mouth as he releases a contented sigh. His eyes shine blue, reflecting the golden soft lights all around you. He looks adorable in his wrapped up scarf and snug hat on his head.

Charles, your boyfriend, wraps his arm around you, pulling your body closer to his as he feels you shiver slightly. You turn a corner, and you set your eyes on the sight of a huge tree, standing at about fifteen feet, covered in sparkling Christmas lights, with a shining star sitting on the top of it. Around the tree stand carolers, basking in the lyrics and feel of the season, many of them holding hands, arms around each other, arms linked, or just standing close together.

The feeling of unity hits you like a blanket warming your soul.

You tighten your grip on Charles' arm, leaning into him, and soft gasp escaping your lips at the lovely sight. "Charles..." you murmur.

He glances to you, a soft smile on his face. "Yes, lovely?"

"This is... amazing."

"I thought you'd like it." When you meet his eyes, he winks at you. You grin, setting your head back against his shoulder, looking up at the lovely tree and listening to the wonderful chorus of all different sorts of voices.

When that song ends, Charles gently asks, "Want to keep walking?"

You nod. As you walk, you feel chillier and chillier, pressing your body closer and closer to Charles', until suddenly he stops and gently nudges you away, before beginning to take off his jacket. "What are you doing?" you ask incredulously.

Charles doesn't respond, and simply drapes his bigger, black coat over your shoulders. The warmth of the coat from being on his body and the scent of his lovely cologne both hit you at the same time, but despite the comfort of his jacket, you say, "Come on now. You're no more immune to the cold than I am. I don't want you to be cold."

"Sh," he hums, and his warm pointer finger goes to your lips to hush you. "I'm just fine."

"Charles, stop," you roll your eyes. "I'm the one who didn't bring a jacket. You did. You deserve to keep yours."

He shakes his head no, and pulls you close to him. Suddenly you feel his hot breath on your ear as he whispers gently, "Before we left, I told you to wear a coat. But you said 'No, Charles, because I don't want to hide my cute outfit'," There's a teasing note in his voice as he imitates you and brushes his fingers over your cheek. "You look absolutely stunning, with or without a cute outfit. But I figured I wouldn't argue. So I just wore an extra jacket myself, because I knew you'd be shivering, and I can't have my love being uncomfortable, can I?" There's almost a gentle purring aspect to his voice, which is filled with sugar and honey as he speaks to you in such loving tones.

This time when you say, "Charles, stop," it's with more of an embarrassed giggle than with annoyance.

Both of you seem to accept this, because as you slip your arms in his jacket's sleeves and zip it up, Charles' hand hugs your waist, and the two of you continue walking. The jacket, because of it's size on you, feels like a comfortable blanket. It reminds you of home, and snuggling with Charles. You link arms with him, and he gently kisses your cheek.

As you walk, Charles starts whispering the sweetest things. Sometimes he gets on these rants about how much he loves you and how much he cares about you, and when he starts, there's no stopping his sappy self, so you're forced to listen to his soft praises. "My God, you're so gorgeous. I won't ever be able to stop loving you. Not that I want to. Loving you makes my life so much better. You make my life complete. Like, you are just... lovely and amazing and... I must be the most lucky man on earth to have you. You make me feel so safe and comfortable and I just can't get enough of you. With you, everything is perfect. I don't know how I lived before I met you, and I don't know how I would live if I didn't have you. Babe I just... I'm sorry for going on but..." Suddenly he stops, taking your waist in his hands, pulling your body into his. You look at your head-over-heels boyfriend in amusement as he gives you the most romantic look you've ever seen, pressing his forehead to yours. "Babe, I just love you so much..."

"M-hm... Whatever, you sap," you murmur back in a teasing tone, blushing softly.

"You're going to make me go insane," he swoons.

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Keep yourself under control, handsome."

He simply kisses the tip of your nose, saying, "You're still chilly, aren't you?"

"Don't you dare think of giving me your sweatshirt now-"

"No, no!" he grins, leaning his forehead away a bit. "I was just wondering, though... As we were walking, I saw a cute café. I could buy you a nice warm drink."

"Ohhh," you grin. "Well, in that case..."

Charles grins back, and slips around, only having one arm around your lower back, and the two of you start walking.

Soon the two of you arrive at the shop, but before you go in, suddenly there's a flash of passion in Charles' eyes, and he pulls you to him again. You fit together as two pieces in a puzzle, and his warm, soft lips gently meet yours. You feel bad about how cold and chapped your lips feel, but either it's just you, or Charles doesn't mind, because he kisses you deeply, like there's no one else there, like it doesn't matter. Like you're the only one in the whole world. His hand caresses your cheek and he lets out a soft grunt. When he finally pulls away, both of your breaths are quickened.

He whispers into your ear again, with his hot breath, "Sorry... I got a little carried away, babe. Let's get a little something to drink now. Then we can go to the hotel and do whatever we'd like."

You nod, feeling butterflies and excitement at these promising words. He puts his arms over your shoulders, and you walk in together to the romantic little Christmas-decorated café.

[anonymergremlin]

Types of hugs

As promised, another piece of my thoughts and headcanons. This time about the gestures we learn in the game. I got really curious after receiving this one gesture after reading a certain sad letter. Is our boy learning from them? Is he curious about human gestures? Who knows.

Anyway, gender-neutral this time. For all you lovely people out there.

I hope you enjoy it and please forgive me for any mistakes. I am just a silly gremlin.

A heavy rainstorm rattled through the floors. Turning the once silent night into a restless one, keeping some of Hotel Krat souls awake. Step by step they approached the hotel's library. Perhaps a good book would help them through such a stormy night. Their fingers curled around the handle of the door. Slowly they opened it. To their surprise they were greeted by a brightly lit room. Another soul must have found its way into the library. "Oh... I didn't think anyone else would -" they stopped their own words as the other person came into view. It wasn't just anyone from the other residence, no, it was the puppet. Geppeto's puppet. The young man stood beside one of the many bookshelves. Fingers running through pages. He seemed to be quite concentrated on the writings.

“P?”.

As his name left their lips, he immediately turned. For a moment his porcelain face looked so blank, but it changed so quickly. The softest smile of all covered his face, his blue eyes lit up and his freckles almost seemed to shine like stars. It was impressive how much he had changed, he really had become more human.

"Have you found something interesting, my dear puppet? Would you like to show it to me?"

They took a few steps to close the distance between them, close enough for a quick glance at the book. To their surprise, P's finger pointed to a particular word.

Hug.

"Are you curious about hugs, P?" they asked him, eyes moving from the book to his blue eyes. He nodded. It wasn't unusual for him to be interested in human gestures. They had seen him mimic some of those described in books or letters before. Once he even mimicked a painting of a knight, his rapier close to his chest, the blade pointed to the sky, his back straight and a proud smile on his face. It was an amusing sight that brought a smile to their face.

"Well, my dear P, there are many kinds of hugs. You could say that one type of hug is never the same as another". They moved one of their hands up, raising their index finger like a teacher giving an important lesson. "In general, you can hug a person to show them that they are welcome, but you can also hug someone to say 'thank you'. You see? A hug can mean two completely different things." His mouth opened slightly and his eyes blinked, indicating his understanding. "A hug can also be a gesture of consolation. For example, when you see someone crying. You can go up to them and hug them, hoping that by doing that, you're going to comfort them through their sadness." For a moment, they stopped themselves and thought of all the people out there who deserve to be hugged. To have just the slightest bit of comfort in their lives. From the look on P's face, they had a feeling that the puppet probably had the same feeling. 

They shook their heads, trying to rid their mind of the thought of Krat's sad state. The people must continue to look forward to a better future. They brought their thoughts back to the hugs. With a slight blush, they remembered another important kind of hug.

"There's also... the kind of hug that lovers do," they said, almost whispering the words out of a slight sense of embarrassment. A fine blush rose to their cheeks as they thought about it more clearly. "Lovers hug as a gesture of their love. They embrace each other, body to body, to feel each other's warmth. Wishing they never have to let go." Their eyes closed for a second, imagining the feeling of someone holding them like that. Two hands gently touching their backs, arms wrapped around their frame and a chin resting softly on one of their shoulders. The thought alone left a good feeling in their chest, but to their surprise, it seemed to come from a real source. Eyes opened to find themselves in a hug. Two hands gently resting on the small of their back, arms carefully wrapped around their frame and a chin tucked between their neck and shoulder. P hugged them like a lover. He put just a tiny bit of pressure on them to pull them closer to him, wrapping his arms a little more around their frame and hiding his head in their neck.

They had only just told him about this kind of hug, but he was already imitating it so perfectly. And they knew from the softness and gentleness of his touch that he was serious about what the hug was saying.

Perhaps it wasn't a book that they needed in order to find comfort on this stormy night. Perhaps it is simply the hug of the person they love that they need.

[mouseymilkovich]

Congrats on your 100! I'd love to request one for Carmy - 86. “Does it make you nervous when I stare?” because as we know, no one has ✨eyes✨ like him 😍 but I would completely melt and not be able to maintain eye contact if he looked at me 🫣

tysm!!! and you're so right he could stare a hole through my soul. also this is a little more fluffy than i meant it to be but whatever

86. “Does it make you nervous when I stare?” ; from 100 nsfw/smut prompts

come request something → 💌 100 follower special → final day for submissions!

His blue eyes bored into you, as if he were staring into your fucking soul. Carmy could've beat anybody in a staring contest, frankly.

“Does it make you nervous when I stare?” He asked curiously. If you hadn't seen him blink, you would've sworn he never did.

"No... I mean, a little, sometimes... I'm... bad at eye contact, I guess?" You stammered out, heart hammering in your chest. "But it's fine. I don't mind it."

He cracked a little smile when you said you didn't mind; that sent a flutter straight to your heart.

"I know it's... kind of a weird habit. I'm sorry." He muttered.

You giggled a little and shook your head. "Maybe we should enter you in a professional staring contest. I bet you'd win."

His smile grew wider, obviously you calmed his own nerves about the habit just a bit.

"I'll just have to practice on you first." He suggested.

You laughed a little again. "Sounds like fun, Bear."

[strawberrynightmare]

Mikey, Mitsuya, Koko & Izana with foodie s/o

Content warning: Just Izana being a little bit... extreme

Koko

~It all started when he took you birthday shopping. The two of you went to a mall and he told you to take anything you want and not look at the price, to which you hesitantly agreed. He expected to be dragged into a clothing or electronics shop. Whatever you wanted; jackets, shoes, bags, perfumes, headphones, games, or maybe, once you get more confident, a phone, tablet, laptop? Or even a tv?

~He got so lost in his fantasies it took him a few minutes to comprehend your current whereabouts. 

~...A grocery store.

~Well, that’s fine. It’s completely reasonable that you’d want to do groceries. Duties first, pleasures second. Although he had to assure you that he’s more than happy to pay for your overflowing shopping cart full of sweets, snacks, cheese and other stuff.  He didn’t let you carry everything yourself, either. He insisted he carries at least 3/4 of them.

~Then the two of you went to get pizza. For that, he paid without even asking. Of course, it wouldn’t be good to shop hungry. And then a sweet dessert - ice cream!

~And when he thought that this is where the actual shopping trip starts, you said that you were done and thanked him. He looked at you as if you were insane. Surely, you must have been joking. 

~But instead of saying “just kidding”, you asked him if there’s anywhere he wants to go. This man was so flabbergasted that he just shook his head and silently walked you home. 

~It didn’t take him long to accept his fate and change his strategy, though. 

~Instead of more “classic” gifts, he began to buy you food. And rather than to the shopping malls, he took you to some of the most recommended restaurants. Pretty chill about it too. Although only for as long as he gets to pay. He can get petty when you don’t let him. The two of you literally race to the checkpoint

~And no, you are not visiting McDonald's, KFC or such things. He’s willing to (respectfully) argue with you about that. Why would you even look at their trash-quality food, when he’s more than willing to pay for something healthier and tastier? *proceeds to wave his credit card in front of your face until you give up*

~If there’s a specific food you crave out of the blue, all you have to do is text him. He’ll order it for you. Hell, he’ll even order anything he sees advertised on the internet that he thought you might like, so don’t get surprised when you get random parcels delivered to your door.

~If you’re worried about your eating habits, he’ll suggest visiting a dietician and will even accompany you there. Won’t force you or stick his nose into your eating habits unless it’s clearly dangerous for your health, though. Most of the time he just supports every decision you make.

~Literally the definition of “Eat whatever you want, I can pay.”

Izana

~Okay this guy 100% loves to watch you eat. You can’t convince me otherwise. 

~Like, imagine you’re casually enjoying your waffles and he sits right in front of you, staring at you, drilling holes into your soul with his gaze. Like this ◉_◉. He doesn’t even order anything for himself no matter how many times you ask him if he’s sure that he’s not hungry. 

~Your boyfriend literally can get high on dopamine from watching you eat something you like. He doesn’t get bored. Each time the two of you meet, he just kinda gives you some kind of a snack and at this point, you don’t even question it, cause he’s gonna do it either way. The two of you start talking, he automatically extends his hand with a snack towards you and you automatically take it without missing a beat. 

~The moment you split your food in half and offered it to him, he was so moved. In his mind, he swore to protect you forever. I’ve seen memes about girlfriends saying they don’t want anything to eat and then eat their boyfriend’s food. Which kind of resembles him because he’ll only eat if it’s from your plate. Can’t get his own for his life. 

~I can clearly imagine a scenario where a gang fight occurs and all of the enemies get heavily beaten up except for that one guy who’s captured at the very beginning and then, at the end, they let him go with no more than a scratch, simply because he’s the son of the owner of your favourite sushi restaurant. 

~At the same time, imagine what happens to the people whose food you dislike. Without a blink, he’d watch you eat something, and instead of the usual bliss he sees on your face, you frown and begin to slow down before hesitantly putting down the eating utensils. He’d ask you if anything’s wrong and after you reply that this dish is not really to your liking, he’d just smile and offer that you eat somewhere else. Then, the next day, you heard in the news that the very same restaurant burned to ashes during the night. The cause of the fire was unknown. 

~Another time, he accidentally saw you out in the town with a friend. He just happened to be nearby and considered saying hello when he heard your friend complaining about you eating way too much. You didn’t seem to take it seriously, but a dark glint in his eyes appeared at that time.

~”I never had a problem with how much they eat…”

~Hopefully, you weren’t very close with that friend (._.)

~Lowkey the devil on your shoulder. He only means good, but he never really tells you no. If you’re thinking about whether to get something to eat, you don’t even have to look at him to know his advice. And if you can’t decide between two things, he’ll just get you both no big deal. Even if he’s aware that it might not be the best for you, it’s not like an additional portion of ice cream will harm you, right?

~He’ll even go as far as to rob a grocery store with his gang to get you a good supply of snacks. You might want to establish some boundaries with him. Just saying. 

~Overall, wants the best, but tends to take things to the extremes.

Mitsuya

~Say no more.

~Actually, he’d cook for you almost each time you come to visit him even before he learns about your fondness for good food. And when he does? You got yourself a personal chef and no amount of insisting and resisting will get you out of this. 

~Legit gets offended if you refuse to let him make you food and suggest eating in the town instead.  

“Haaa? You’d rather pay for some stranger’s stuff rather than eat what your boyfriend prepared for you with love?”

~And it doesn’t matter that you only have the best intentions in mind and you don’t want to overwork him. He’s having none of that. If you really insist that you want to eat at some restaurant or worse- a fast food restaurant (!) he has no power to stop you. He’ll go with you, but he’ll be silent most of the time and will be glaring at you as you eat.

“I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.”

~But the moment you finally break, and promise to always choose his food over others, he’s momentarily back to himself, apologising and cuddling the hell out of you. Overbearing, but he does it out of care.

~That’s where it ends though. He invites you to eat dinner with him every few days and sometimes makes you snacks, but the rest is up to you. He doesn’t really stick his nose into your eating habits. And he doesn’t forbid you from eating in restaurants either. He’ll straight out encourage you to try out new places, but that’s only as long as he’s not able to cook for you himself, probably due to lack of time.

~If he sees some occasional food trucks or other kinds of time-limited food stalls, he’s absolutely getting you stuff from there. He’ll probably get a little bit of everything so that the two of you can go back there and eat whatever you liked the most.

~And if he sees someone bothering you for your eating habits, he won’t hesitate to pull them aside and scold them or even start a fight if necessary. 

~Will ask his friends and fellow gang members if they’ve been to any good restaurants/bars/cafes/food stalls or anything recently so that he can take you there later.

~Also, will try out even more new recipes and even has a little notebook where he writes down your favourite ones. Then, on some grand dates like anniversaries, your birthday or valentines, he’ll prepare little feasts entirely made out of your favourites.

~HOLD HIM FROM BEHIND AS HE COOKS. The first time you did it he froze and started blushing like crazy. He’d pin you to the wall and make out with you if he didn’t have milk on the stove. 

~From there on, he usually demands that you do it each time you ask if he needs any help or feel guilty with how much effort he puts in for you. This is it, this is the payment. Bonus points if you nuzzle your face into his shoulder. It’s his favourite thing to make him relax.

~Compliment his cooking and he’ll be genuinely thrown off. It’s something which always manages to make his mind all hazy and the butterflies in his stomach spring to life. Don’t let him brush it off! Keep going to witness the great mitsuya takashi embarrassed and shy.

~All in all, LET HIM COOK

Mikey

I came up w/ this one while taking a shit

~I can literally see a whole love story forming there.

~Imagine you decided on a study break, went to some shop nearby and bought some snacks. Let’s say, a croissant or two. A full ass croissant with chocolate inside and stuff. And you go to the park to enjoy it. It’s late afternoon, you find a bench hidden in the shadow of some old maple and bon appetit!

~You were halfway in, when you noticed that someone sat at the opposite side of the bench. You glanced that way and saw a blonde who looked to be about your age. He was also eating, but it was dorayaki. Without thinking much about it, your attention shifted back to your treat. After you were done, you quietly left.

~Then, a whole week later, it was also around that time that you decided to have some air, went to the same store and this time, bought a box of cookies. Once again, you ventured into the park and soon noticed that the bench you occupied last time was once again empty. So you sat there and enjoyed your break. 

~And again, the very same blonde appeared and sat nearby but with a different snack. 

You were suddenly pulled out of your blissful state by the stranger’s voice. 

“Can I have one cookie?” You turned to look at him. “I’ll give you pocky in exchange,” he noticed the slight surprise on your face and sent you a reassuring smile. “Is it too sudden? Sorry, but they just smell so good. Seriously, what flavour is this?”

“I think it’s because of the orange filling,“ you extended the box towards him as he moved closer to you. He took one cookie and offered you his pocky. 

“Thank you! Now try this, it’s green tea flavoured.”

“Nice, thanks.”

~No more words were spoken and as you finished, you simply said your goodbye and left. But the next time you went there, he was on the bench already. When he noticed you, he waved you in greeting and another exchange took place, this time, you also had a little small talk. Then, the same situation kept repeating until the two of you sat right next to each other and chatted casually. 

~Every few days, you headed to the bench, hoping to see him there. But after some time, it didn’t simply end on the bench hangouts. He’d ask you to go with him to that cafe you spoke so fondly about. Or the ramen restaurant he recommended. 

~As you began to spend more time together, you exchanged numbers, began to text each other and even developed feelings. None of you could point out the exact time when you fell in love. It just felt so right when you were together, you soon began to officially date. 

~Which brings us to this point. Seriously, you’re like twin souls. It is now a common occurrence for the two of you to exchange food or even steal each other’s. Literally imagine you and a few of his friends hanging out at his place and he looks through his drawers frowning for a while and finally asks “who took my limited edition strawberry taiyaki?” with a death voice. No one dares to breathe, but there you are, head peeking from the bathroom. “Oh, I ate it”.

~Everyone gets ready to hold Mikey down to at least give you a few minutes to run, but he just gets back to his normal mode and smiles. “Did you like it? I’ll buy more for you next time then.” And they’re absolutely bewildered. No, I will never get tired of this trope

~Food dates all of the time. Cafe, restaurant, bar, grocery store, name it and you’ll be going there. Especially if you’re too shy to go on your own. There is no such thing as ‘too much food’ in his dictionary. Eat to your heart’s content and if anyone dares to comment, we all know what happens. 

~Totally the type to bring you some sweets and ask for cuddles, kisses and letting him sleep on your lap in exchange. But hey! You can do the same. Actually, you don’t even have to get him anything. He’s physically unable to say no to you even if he sometimes gets a little bit pouty, a few minutes later he doesn’t even remember why he was mad in the first place.

~Once you have dated for some time, he’s the type to ask you how does your food taste while you’re eating, and as you’re moving your plate towards him, it’s 50/50 whether he demands you to feed him or steals a kiss and then licks his lips and says, “it’s good.”

~The spoon feeding though. He wants you to feed him just as much as he wants to feed you. It makes everyone in the 10 metre radius look away. Especially if you happen to be hanging out with his friends. The moment you start, various groans and sighs can be heard all around you. But at the same time, they all have those little smirks on their lips. 

~Their leader is smitten. Good for him.

[ilovebuckers5]

*•♡never be like you pt 2 ♡¸.•*'

nika muhl x cheerleader!reader

"I am an architect, I'm drawing out the plan. its like 17, nobody understands "

word count - 2.6k

themes :

-slow burn

-comfort

warnings :

-toxic rls

-mentions to wet dreams

-cursing

a/n - I'm posting this today because one its my birthday and two I didn't want to starve you guys for longer than three days...

the amount of stress I had walking home was unremarkable. I had been staying at farah's dorm for a couple days. she already had a bed ready and made for me to sleep in once I texted her that I didn't want to be around Asher. I always kept a good amount of clothing there too so that I wouldn't have to take a trip to my apartment and deal with the millions of interrogations I would get from my boyfriend about where I was. the thought of seeing Farah completely cleared my brain and kept me calm until I walked off campus and began walking home. the door was locked. he never locked the door. I tore up my backpack looking for my keys but still couldn't find them. I kept on knocking on the door while searching for my keys before the door finally opened. there Asher was with his hair messed up. I took a moment to actually look up and look at his skin. his lips looked puffy, and had a red tint. more red than usual. his eyes were almost bloodshot.

"where were you huh? out with another guy?" he said while leaning on the door frame, already flexing his fists. I bit at the inside of my cheek, not being able to form words. its not like I was out with anyone other than Farah but I knew that no matter what I said, he wouldn't believe me. I held my breath and looked down at the floor while fidgeting with my rings. his hand rose up to my chin, grabbing onto hit and forcing me to look in his eyes. "fucking answer me." a couple tears started to well up in my eyes. I slowly swallowed the huge lump in my throat and croaked out the truth. "I was with Farah. no one else." his grip tightened around my skin before his other hand wrapped around my wrist, dragging me into the apartment. he snatched my bags out of my hands and tossed them in my room. the door slammed behind us before he took me into his room. "don't lie to me y/n. I know you are" his eyes were sinking into my soul every second that passed while our eyes were locked. I finally almost felt his grip loosen and the moment I thought it did, I attempted to rip my hand out of his grasp but he held onto me tighter. "asher can you please let go of me." I said, squirming my wrist back and forth as it turned red. this was the last thing I need right now.

right before I thought he would continue to pull at my wrist, he let go. tossing my wrist back at my side. a long relieved sigh was let out while I turned around to hide the couple of tears fell down my cheek. I sniffed in the small string of snot that was slowly falling from my nose and kept my face hidden.

"come here." Asher cooed while resting his hand on my waist. the light in his room was dimmed. the curtain were still open but barely let any light in since it was starting to get dark. before I spun around to look back at him, I reviewed how the room looked. it was mainly clean except for a couple pieces of clothing on the floor next to his bed. his bed had ruffled sheets and a comforter that was hanging off the side of the bed. I raised my eyes up to see that the closet door was almost closed and when I looked hard enough, I saw the white sclera of a girls eyes. my stomach dropped while she shut the closet door fully. Asher was only trying to turn me around so that I wouldn't see the naked girl hiding from me. as fun as it would be to call him out and slap both of the people across the face, I pretended that everything was fine. I let one more tear fall down my face while I turned to face asher's blue eyes. the man I was looking at right now was the one that always wondered if I was out getting fucked by another man. the man that couldn't keep away from me when he thought another mans hands was on me. the boy that told me if I was with anyone else, he'd kill me. when the entire time. it was another girl I should've been worrying about.

ashers knuckle dragged across my under eye, wiping the few tears off of my skin. he wiped the tear of his skin tight compressed shirt and then wrapped his arms around my waist, pretending to comfort me and care about me. I could tell that he was staring at the closet, hoping this girl wouldn't come out. yet he still acted like his eyes were facing my back, with his head down. he held me there in his arms before leading me onto his bed, stroking my hair. if he was going to cheat on me then I would just accidentally think it was Nika twirling my hair in her fingers. Nika who was rubbing my back. Nika. muhl, who was letting me fall asleep on her chest. I fell asleep with my makeup ruined like always but at least I didn't thing it was Asher who my dried mascara was falling on.

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the first thing I did when I woke up was check my phone. I ignored the fact that Asher was probably driving this random girl home while I laid on the bed she enjoyed my boyfriend on. when I opened my phone, I saw an Instagram notification.

nika.muhl started followed you

nika.muhl liked your post

nika.muhl liked your post

nika.muhl liked your post

damn. I mean at least it wasn't all of my posts.

i I actually unlocked my phone and texted Farah what happened last night. she called me within a second and all I could do was cry.

"hold on I'm coming to pick you up. grab asher's wallet."

farah took no time to drive over to my apartment and pick me up. she knocked on the door gently before stepping in once realizing that it was unlocked. I was still laying in asher's bed, tears soaked up my pillow case. I was wrapping myself around the blankets that was covering his body last night to try and find a sense of comfort. Farah been standing in the door way for a good amount of time before peeling me off of the mattress and standing me up in front of her. I refused to make eye contact until she raised my chin up with her finger. "listen to me. you are going to get through this. he's a cunt and I know you don't want to be with him. don't pretend like you do." she said sternly while wiping the few tears that fell down my skin. "cmon. lets go get coffee or something?" Farah wrapped her hand around my own, leading me out of the room.

for the first time in forever, I didn't even take the time to brush my hair or put on mascara or even change clothes. I just walked out the door, looking like I got hit by a bus, while being dragged to a coffee shops down the street by my best friend. she sat the two for us down at a table right next to the window. I felt a little breeze of cold air run through my hair each time the door next to us opened and closed. it was that hour that people would be coming inside for something to eat before classes. I swirled the stirring stick in my coffee,barely being able to take a sip.

obviously it hurt for Asher to manipulate me and act like I'm in the wrong. but its always been like that. it was always expected of him and I just got used to it. what I never thought he'd do is cheat on. especially when its all he thinks of me when I'm gone for more than 5 minutes "a cheater." the moment I locked eyes with that girl, all my emotions faded away and I was so lost I could even figure out who it was. but now that I'm thinking about it and remembering the moment. she had dark eyes. a taller yet thinner figure than my own. even with her hair disheveled across her head, I could see that it was darker, longer. I nearly spit out my coffee at the realization. he was sleeping with my second closest friend in the entire world. if Farah wasn't there to hold me (which she usually was) it was Natalie who would pull me in and kiss my forehead as if I'm a kid who scraped her knee. he was fucking Natalie Barlowe.

just a I was about to stand up and march to Natalie's house, Farah placed her hand on my shoulder mid setting down our breakfast. "woah woah what happened?" she gently pressed my shoulder down so that I would be seated.

"i-it was Natalie." - I choked out - "in the closet Farah. it was Natalie."

i felt my all my blood warm around my heart, almost squeezing it along with my lungs. I dipped my head down in my arms, pressing my now sweaty forehead on the ceramic table. the cool surface felt nice against all the heat that bubbled up in my head. hot tears fell down my eyes and I swear I could each and everyone of them splashing on the table beneath me. Farah's hand lurked up my back and slowly began rubbing back and forth. my back occasionally hitched up as more silent sobs left my mouth. I've felt this pain before and I never thought I would have to go through it again but here I am. Farah slowly slid into her own seat while trying to raise my head up to look at me. this time I wouldn't budge. not until I felt farah's hand leave my back to lift my body up and wrap her arms around me. still not letting my face into the public, my nose was dug into her shoulder while I continued to sob. once all the tears (for now) were emptied out, I pulled my head away from Farah's shoulder revealing my extremely puffy and red eyes. I quickly wiped a little bit of snot away from my nose and sat back down. I took a small bite out of the sandwich Farah bought for me. at this point I had no choice but to act and feel numb. I didn't smile but I didn't frown.

there was the breeze again. for some reason I felt the need to look at who was walking in the coffee shop now. to my surprise, it was Paige, Nika, and Aaliyah. I'm guessing they were trying their best to spend some time together before Nika and Aaliyah leave. once me and Paige's eyes locked, she sent over a small wave followed by her walking up to me and Farah's table. I looked away as fast as possible, covering my face with my hands, pretending to be asleep as if Paige didn't already see me shoot her a 'hey what's up' look.

farah was beyond confused by the fact that three star athletes from UConn were coming up to the two girls. I kept my head down, trying to dry some of my tears before someone could ask what's wrong with me. that's when I felt a tap on my back. "hey?" God that voice. I slowly lifted my head up and turned to see the 5'11 brunette standing above me. I felt my breath hitch and get stuck in my throat when I tried to speak. I cleared my throat and put my hand on Nika's, which was still resting on my back. I let her hand fall off of my hoodie but she kept a concerned look on her face. she tilted her head, using her eyes to ask me what happened. I had the idea of pulling her to the bathroom and explaining everything but that would awkward for almost everyone around me. Paige and Aaliyah quickly picked up a conversation with Farah, making her turn red out of embarrassment. I almost reached over to grab Nika's hand when she turned around to look at the people in this hop, I thought she was about to leave to buy a drink or something. I don't know why I was so freaked out by that thought. her hair flipped right back around when my finger grazed her hip after her hand. the way her eyes darted to mine sent a shock through my body and I swear the shop went silent.

as much as Asher hurt me, staring into Nika's eyes made me forget everything about. when I was with Nika it was like "who's asher?"

nika gave me a reassuring pat on the top of my hand, almost like she was letting me know she wasn't going anywhere no matter what. I looked behind me to see Farah sending me a 'save me' look but before I could barge in on whatever Paige was talking about, I blurted it out. "hey Nika do you want to go to a concert with me and Farah?" I have no idea why the fuck I did that but the good thing is I did.

"what?"

"what?" Nika and Farah said in unison. Nika's face almost lit up while Farah's slightly dropped. not with anger though, thank God. Nika's eyebrows furrowed towards her eyeballs while she scratched the back of her neck. "I mean-" she looked up at me then at Paige and then at aaliyah. they all gave her reassuring looks, telling her that she should go. "fuck it I guess. what day?" Nika pulled out her phone and opened the calendar app, getting ready to put down the date. Farah spoke before I could, "April 18th!" Nika quickly typed down the date and then shoved her phone back in her pocket. obviously I was fucking thrilled that Nika was coming with but how has she said yes when she doesn't even know who shes seeing? whatever. the only thing that mattered right now was the fact that one; I wouldn't have to deal with Asher at Olivia Rodrigo's concert and two; nika would be right next to me.

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

me, Farah, Paige, Aaliyah, and Nika decided to just hang out together while we ate breakfast instead of sitting at different tables. I took that moment to fill everyone in on what happened, not that I should've been getting so close and personal with them but...I now deem them as my new group of people to trust. because apparently teammates aren't reliable. we all said our goodbyes before walking back to campus in different directions. me and Farah spent the walk debriefing how I very clearly had a crush on Nika muhl and that the concert would be a perfect opportunity to make a move. a second one that is. Farah kept on nudging my shoulder and poking ta my stomach while smiling proudly.

"I can't believe you actually did that and she said yes like holy shit!" this entire morning made me completely forget about what happened the night before. and this time it didn't creep up on me thirty minutes later. I actually didn't care about it for a whole day. of course the next day was still difficult, I had completely started bunking at Farah's place until I had the confidence to just ditch Asher. he didn't deserve my presence anyways so I packed my shit and ditched.

farah was probably the most supportive person to breath, and not even just because shes my best friend I mean she will support anyone and everyone. whether they've done her wrong or not. sometimes it worries me how forgiving she is but then again we just had a breakfast buffet under asher's name so...

when we were back at her place, I plopped myself dramatically onto her bed while spreading my limbs about. the only thing I could manage to picture in my head was Nika. I cannot believe I'm actually going to a concert with basically a stranger. she never struck me as the type to go out on such short notice with someone like me. I pulled out my phone from my pocket and began to mindlessly scroll on Instagram, looking for something to actually be interested in that wasn't day dreaming about nika. of course she just had to slide into my DMS right when I'm trying to not think of her. the text popped up at the top of my screen and I felt my heart drop. I was already active so there wasn't any possibility of me ignoring her message. Hey. This is y/n right? I read the message and constipated what to say for way longer than I should've. shes just asking if I'm myself. am I myself? yes. yeah I totally am. hiii, yes this is y/n! I texted back while my thumbs almost shook.

we ended up talking all night I feel embarrassed to say it but I am fully head over heels for this basketball player now as if I would ever have a chance when so many other people have probably made moves on her by now. but then again why would she spend 4 hours texting me about anything and everything. our conversations alone made me happier than I had been in the past 2 weeks and I had just met this girl. no one has had this effect on me since high school and to be honest I've missed the feeling.

when I finally turned my phone off I looked up to see Farah standing next to me like a mom catching her kid playing a video game after bedtime. she had her hands on her hips and smug smile plastered on her lips. "who's got you kicking your feet huh?" Farah knew exactly who it was but of course she shoved the name out of my mouth. Farah laughed so hard she was on the brink of tears when she came back up for air. that's when I noticed she had her phone aimed at me, sitting on her bed with my feet in the air kicking back and forth. that's going to be posted in no time. I quickly rolled over to hide the fact that I was having the time of my life crushing on this girl. and as much as I tried to hide it, I get red when I think about her and when shes anymore in my vicinity.

i spent the entire night staring at the ceiling dreaming about how on earth I would try to actually have Nika love me if that was even possible. and of course when I fell asleep the first thing I dreamed (the only thing) was what the night would be like after the concert. what we would do after. if we made it back to a hotel or just drove home. maybe stopped at a gas station or any parking lot. talked for a little bit. maybe about the concert then maybe about how badly I wanted my lips against hers. but hey that's just a what if. and just a dream. so when I woke up in the middle of the night I had to gaslight myself into believing it in fact was going to happen just so that I could sleep peacefully without another wet dream about Nika muhl.

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

Hello, sweetheart! I was wondering if you could do Alastor with an overlord reader? I was imagining reader having water based abilities and a blue theme to them! I also imagined the reader being a lot shorter than him (cause he’s like 7 feet tall).Like how would he react to reader being able to summon a tsunami and drowning a bunch of sinners, but being an absolute sweetheart at the same time! Please ignore this if you feel uncomfortable!

~Angel <3

hi angel!!! i can totally do that! thank you for your request and your patience on this!!!

i would love to do this! i’m doing this more in a head cannon/ficlet format, but i may come back to this to make a full fic.

i hope you enjoy!! ☺️

alastor first noticed how short you were. you were tiny

at least to him.

but he’s like 7 feet tall and you kept your human height of 5’2 when you descended to hell.

the second thing that he noticed were you were completely opposite of him

your color palette, your disposition and even the way you spoke were all opposites.

you had a mainly blue color palette. your hair was long and blue, your outfit flowy and not really structured, your eyes were the red that overlords though

you were rumored to be powerful but alastor had never seen any display of your power

you were happy and kind of go lucky, you and charlie were almost like two peas in a pod.

that was until one day, someone threatened the hotel and he wasn’t there.

Idiot sinners who thought they could beat the radio demon

it was the thought that if the radio demon wasn’t there, it would be fine as no one took charlie seriously.

and you wouldn’t let her dirty her hands on these… cretins

The fire balls soared through as they called out for Alastor. Everyone was running around trying to put out the fires and Alastor wasn’t around. He was in Cannibal Town today visiting Rosie. You sighed and closed your eyes. You made your way to the front ignoring the calls of your name and to watch out. You raised your hands and a shield of water surrounded the hotel. You walked out and stared at the sinners.

“Who are you bitch?” One asked. Looking there seemed to be about 30 sinners who made up this party.

“Yeah! Where’s Alastor?” Another asked, raising a molotov cocktail and getting ready to light it.

“Look, gentleman, why don’t you go back to wherever you came from and we can forget this ever happened.” You say, looking at all of them. There’s a beat of silence and then they all start laughing. You look annoyed and the one who seemed to be the leader spat at your feet.

“Like hell, bitch. Be a good girl and get Alastor.” He said laughing again.

“Oh, you’ll wish you got Alastor.” You said, bringing your hands together and then throwing them in a down motion to the ground. Suddenly chains appeared on all of the sinners. Their eyes widened and the leader started to struggle. You smiled as you reached your hand towards him and he flinched thinking you were going to grab him, but then all of a sudden you closed your fist. The group looked at you confused until the water that held them where they were at started to boil.

You raised your left hand up and the boiling water started to encase their legs slowly. You looked at the leader and smiled.

“Wanna make a deal? I’ll end this pain right now, you give me your soul, never come to this hotel again and are at my beck and call whenever I feel like it. You will do anything I ask of you. Do we have a deal?” You grinned as he cried out his confirmation.

You stopped the water from boiling and proceeded to make the same deal with all 30 sinners, they scampered off afterwards and you let down the shield on the hotel. You looked to your left and saw Alastor there, his eyes wide and his grip on his cane tight. Rosie next to him, grinning.

“Oh hey!” You said nonchalantly.

alastor is enamored

you a little thing so sadistic that you get 30 sinners to make a deal with you at once?

he’s not sure if he truly feels threatened or admired you.

rosie adores you

you shock alastor again when another group of sinners come to the hotel and you don’t even walk outside

the only thing heard is a rumbling, a crash and then quiet. everyone looks outside and sees a tsunami drowning a larger group of sinners than before.

everyone looks at you sitting at the bar, complimenting pentious’ drawing and him beaming at your compliments

you were such a sweetheart but you were terrifying