#honestly i think it's better for me to leave it as a surprise

[thrfted]

꩜ DATING MR. CRAWLING .ᐟ

SFW GN!Reader HCS after the blissful love life ending.

Italics is in the other world’s language! Sometimes more the implied message rather than a direct translation. I'll probably do Mr. Hood later too :3 !

Your bed is much more comfortable than anything in the other world, and it only makes it better that mr. Crawling gets to be in it with you. He grows accustomed to your nightly routine and is always excited to cuddle up. Big spoon, little spoon, facing each other—all of it makes him as happy as can be!

(^ As someone who still has a twin size, some of us have to invest in a much bigger one lol)

Generally so so affectionate and loves when you’re physically affectionate !! You can kiss his head and he’ll giggle, maybe point at his face and ask “Again!” You leave kisses all over his face, and his hands pull you in close when you finally kiss his lips.

One of Mr. Crawling's strongest traits is his patience—especially when it comes to you. The first day you come home without him trailing behind (much to his dismay, and honestly yours), he’s at the door to greet you, smiling and giggling as you wrap your arms around him. You find out he hadn’t done much but wait for you to come home. (With no complaints of boredom on his part, and all the worry on yours.)

He'll sit as you play with his hair, trying out new hairstyles or putting in clips. “Me cute? Pretty?” he asks. And if you let him do the same in return, he'll giggle and compliment you too.

I think he’d look through your closet and enjoy watching you try on clothes too. He compliments you and feels each of the fabrics, liking the ones that feel softest. He might try on some of the accessories if none of the actual clothes (sort of…) fit, and is really happy when you match!

Mr. Crawling is a fast learner. You worry he'll feel overwhelmed with all the new technology and words and whatever else, so you focus on making sure he’s comfortable. But he points at things and ask what they are, repeating after you. “You teach me language?” he asks and you laugh softly before nodding. “I teach you language.”

He will accidentally touch a hot stove top or pot if you don't remember to warn him beforehand. Then whenever you cook he gets worried you'll hurt yourself, watching to make sure you're alright (forgive him if he pulls your hand away and says “Danger! Don't touch!”)

Since he doesn't know his birthday, you make the day you returned special instead! He's happy to just stay in with you, eating a good meal and watching or learning something new.

Mr. Crawling also learns when yours is and does his best to make it a good day for you too. He tries singing happy birthday and makes food with what you have at home, mimicking the meals he's seen you prepare.

You teach him how to call your phone while you're away. It's supposed to “be for emergencies,” but you both know he's going to call just to hear your voice, and who are you to complain?

I think he gets sad sometimes when he sees or hears you talking to friends—the way you communicate and laugh so easily compared to conversations with him. The other world's language itself is limited, and he hasn't learned enough of your own. You spend some evenings reassuring him, reminding him learning is a process, and it doesn't change your feelings!!

He does his best to learn on his own. You buy (exercise) books and show him shows for younger kids and he spends a lot of time alone with them, both to surprise you, and also just because he loves talking with you and wants to talk more and more.

The first time he speaks your language is a special day. After many days of calling out that you’re back, he decides to say it himself. “You home!” You almost drop everything in your hands, and that’s when he continues, “Miss you.” It feels odd hearing it in his voice, but he’s grinning so wide, and you won’t find out for a while just how excited and nervous he was waiting for you to get home.

One of Mr. Crawling’s favourite things to say and hear is “I love you.” Every time you say it, he gets all giddy and tries to get closer to you (as if that’s possible while already cuddling in bed). He says it a lot while you’re doing chores or really nothing, just to remind you and see you smile. There’s no way in his mind for those 3 words to lose their meaning, or become any less special.

[ofbatsandballads]

kindness you can’t afford

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: injured character, multiple descriptions of blood + wounds

a/n: so this is the very first jason fic I’ve written since I was twelve, so forgive me while I find my jay’s voice now that I’m not a preteen. anyways I humbly offer thee my wares.

divider credit: cafekitsune

Gotham’s a shithole. You hadn’t known that when you first moved here. To be honest, you’d kind of thrown a dart at a map and gone where it landed. Alright, maybe it wasn’t literally a dart throw, more so finding the cheapest metropolitan city because New York was tempting but it would bankrupt you. Mostly you just wanted a place to not exist. And so Gotham’s relatively low rent rates and towering skylines were the pick with little to no research.

Gotham’s a shithole. You know that beyond a shadow of a doubt now. It’s surprising, honestly, how little of Gotham’s chaos makes it outside the city limits. One would think a psychotic killer clown that’s prone to gassing a whole city district or a half-plant poison lady or a guy going around dressed like a bat would make national news. And yet, no. You’d known superheroes existed, of course. Superman was the shining jewel in the crown of the country that is Metropolis. Everyone knows about the extraordinary Wonder Woman. It’s not like hyper skilled people working for the greater good aren’t a thing. But Gotham plays her cards close to her chest.

You've lived here almost two years now and you’ve managed to make it through relatively unscathed. An impressive feat especially since you live in the Bowery. The Bowery itself isn’t so bad, but its neighboring district Park Row, more often known as Crime Alley, is about the worst Gotham has to offer. You’ve heard your fair share of gunshots and sirens, and you’ll never forget the time that Scarecrow released fear toxin in the district and you had to shove every towel and blanket you owned against the cracks by the doors and windows to keep it out. However, you’ve avoided being mugged or assaulted or anything like that so far. And you’ve never encountered the vigilantes that run the night here.

But there’s always time for new and exciting experiences.

The loud thunk that sounds outside your living room window makes you jump and starts your heart pounding. You know you should just ignore it. Crawl off the couch and to the bedroom, lock the door. The lights in the apartment are already off, only the television light illuminating the room, so it would be easy to creep unseen. But you can’t. Something pulls you to the window. Maybe it’s the cat killing curiosity, or maybe it’s your own little voice of self destruction, or maybe it’s something else entirely. All you know is that you have to go look.

So you do. And there, out cold on the fire escape, is a man. A very large man. A very large man in a red helmet. A very large man in a red helmet with dual pistols holstered to his thighs. Red Hood. Red Hood is passed out face up on your fire escape. Huh.

You’d heard of him. It was hard not to. The Bat had the most notoriety by far, but it was Red Hood that truly scared the criminals of Gotham. Batman might break your bones, cripple you even, but you’d leave with your life. No such guarantee existed if you crossed Red Hood. Hurt a few innocent people and you might end up with a bullet or three in your skull. Then there was that thing about heads in a duffel bag and Red Hood running crime for a solid year in Gotham, but he’s better now, apparently. None of this is deterring you from unlocking the window, pushing it up, and stepping out into the cold winter air. Not when you see the blood seeping through his body armor start to drip off the fire escape grate.

He needs help and he can’t stay unconscious in the middle of the city. If whoever injured him didn’t find him, the cops would. He’s just as wanted as the actual rogues of Gotham. You think it’s bullshit, which is why you’re trying to find a way to get him inside the safety of your apartment. He’s huge up close. This is going to be very, very difficult. Your mind flashes suddenly to one of your favorite childhood movies and how the princess pulled the dashing rogue around with her hair. You glance down at the street before heading to your bedroom.

You come back out with sheets bundled up in your arms. You’re not even sure if this harebrained idea will work, but you weave the sheets through the gaps in the grates and around Red Hood’s waist nonetheless. You secure a knot and go back into your apartment with the length of the sheets. Your legs are stronger than your arms, so you brace them against the wall and pull. You can feel his body slowly dragging towards you and you pause to check your progress. He’s slumped against the window now. Good. You loop your arms under his, place your feet back against the wall, and pull hard. Your hard work is rewarded with his body breaching the threshold of your window and landing directly on top of you. The air is knocked clean out of your lungs. He is heavy.

It’s a struggle but you manage to roll out from under him and immediately see the massive red stain contrasting against the white of your fluffy pajama pants. A small puddle of blood is emerging on your floor under his left thigh, and droplets of blood have splattered next to his torso. He’s not in great shape. It suddenly hits you what you’ve done. You dragged an injured vigilante, known for shooting first and asking questions later, into your apartment with no plan on what to do after the fact.

What the fuck did I do?

That’s all you can think as you look down at him. Then something snaps into place inside your rattled mind and you run to your bathroom to grab your first aid kit. You’d bought it and learned the basics after Wayne Enterprises ran televised infomercials about the importance of first aid a couple months back. You’re carefully balancing all the supplies in your arms as you head back out to the living room.

The empty living room. No vigilante in sight. Then your world spins. Everything clatters to the floor as you’re yanked backwards by your waist, pinned to something solid and unable to move.

“Who are you?” A growl sounds behind you, modulated to sound semi-mechanical.

Ah. There he is. You think you should be panicking, absolutely losing your shit even. But your brain is moving in slow motion.

“Someone trying to help you,” you breathe out.

“Doesn’t answer the question.”

The grip around your waist tightens. You want to laugh. As if you could’ve made a run for it in the first place. You tell him your name, and explain that you live alone. There’s no one else here but the two of you and you really do want to help.

“You were passed out on my fire escape. I couldn’t just leave you out there,” you explain cautiously.

The two of you stay like that for a minute longer. Then, a mechanical sigh sounds from behind you and the vice grip on your waist goes slack. You turn to him and see that he’s already halfway to your window.

“Hey! Wait! I can help!” you shout, scrambling after him.

“Don’t need it,” he snaps.

“You were bleeding out on my floor!” you exclaim.

You don’t know why you feel so strongly about this. Maybe because he seemed so…mortal. It’s easy to forget that these guys running around at night are people. They’re strong, tough, and capable, but they’re still human. The fact that he stumbles and has to catch himself on the window frame proves your point.

“Please. I promise I won’t take long. Please just let me help,” you beg.

He turns around and even through that unreadable helmet you can tell he’s sizing you up. You’re sure you must be a sight in your fuzzy white cat pajama pants, old Snoopy t-shirt, and fluffy white socks. Honestly, it’s a bit of a ridiculous tableau. Massive armed man in tactical gear opposite a woman in fluffy pajamas, both bloodstained. But either you seem harmless enough or he’s in exceptionally bad shape, because he just slumps against your wall and gives a barely noticeable nod of his head.

You go into autopilot the second you get his consent. A dining room chair is dragged to the center of your living room and Red Hood drops himself into it, the old wood creaking under the force. You go to assess the damage on his torso first. Light slashes litter his waist, none of them are deep enough for stitches. You grab the rubbing alcohol and cotton balls from the floor where you kneel before warning him that it might sting.

“I got slashed. Think that might’ve hurt a bit more,” he deadpans.

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

The torso slashes are light work. It takes all of five minutes to disinfect them and seal them shut with bandages. It’s his thigh that you’re a little more concerned about. There’s enough blood that it’s soaked his tactical pants around where you’re guessing the wound is. You can vaguely make out what appears to be cut fabric, so you’re assuming he was stabbed.

“How deep did the knife go?” you ask.

“Hm. ‘Bout two inches?” he offers.

“Why’d you take it out?” you ask incredulously. Anyone with half a brain knew not to take a knife out of a stab wound.

“No idea. Should’ve just gone runnin’ around the city with a knife wedged in my leg.”

The mask’s modulator does nothing to hide the teasing edge to his voice. Of everything you’d heard about Red Hood, you’d never heard he was such a smartass.

“You know how to do stitches?” he asks.

Great. So he saw the deer-in-headlights look you had while thinking about how to fix his stab wound.

“If you count mending clothing then, uh, sure,” you reply.

The white slits of the helmet stare hard at you before a warped chuckle comes from under it.

“Well, close enough.”

Oh, so he liked to gamble with his health then. Okay. Sure. Great. You could totally do this. Untrained, unlicensed, unsupervised you. You have to stop your hands from shaking as you thread the curved needle. You have to stop yourself from vomiting with anxiety as you push the needle through his skin. He hisses and you immediately feel bad. He’d handled the alcohol without flinching, but the stitches were a different story. You whisper sorry’s with every puncture of his skin you make. Soon enough, his leg is closed up and the whole thing is said and done.

“Okay, should be good to go,” you start, “Well, not good per se, but functional to go.”

A hum and a quick nod of his head are the only response you get before he’s back on his feet. He’s about to climb out your window for the second time tonight when you call out to him again. He turns around and you’d swear he almost seems exasperated.

“Take these with you. You’ll probably need them,” you say as you toss him a water bottle and a small carton of orange juice.

He snatches them easily from the air. But then he just stands there and stares at the drinks in his hands. You think you may have somehow offended him and go to apologize when he speaks.

“Thanks,” he says, mechanical voice catching on the word.

And then he’s gone. Out your window and off into the night. Once you shut and lock the window you feel exhaustion hit you like a freight train. All the adrenaline drains from you and it takes whatever energy you have left to collapse on to your bed and drift off to sleep.

You’ll never know it, but the Red Hood spends the last fifteen minutes of his patrol sipping his orange juice and dutifully watching your apartment window.

You’ll never know it, but Jason Todd lingers across the street to make sure you get home from the grocery store safely, and he scoffs as he sees you feed and pet a stray dog. It’s silly, he thinks.

Don’t you know that now you’ve shown it some kindness, it’ll just keep coming back?

[lordprettyflackotara]

Follow You || Chapter One || Eyeless Jack

syn:Eyeless Jack has found himself becoming more isolated over the years, distancing himself from everyone and everything. He considers himself an unforgivable monster, one that shouldn’t be a burden to anyone else. After leaving Slender’s mansion and wondering aimlessly through the woods, he stumbles upon a drunken girl in danger. After saving you, he finds himself completely infatuated with you. You’re strikingly similar to him, even attending his old college. He battles an internal debate as he falls for you, deciding whether or not to burden you by staying. While Jack fights his internal turmoil, old enemies from an all too familiar college come out to play. Will Jack be able to defeat his oldest enemy? Will he be able to overcome his self conscious fears to save you? You’d better hope so, since the cult for Chernabog is back and you seem like the perfect sacrifice.

tw: reader has common sense, mostly

a/n: not me writing a mc whose not a hopeless simp lmaoo

The sun was too mother fucking bright. 

You groaned, squinting in disgust at the suns rays beaming through the window. Your thoughts were  cloudy, your mind in a dazed state. Your vision began to settle, your heart racing as the gears in your brain began turning. You didn’t recognize your surroundings at all. With your heart thudding against your chest you sat up, alarmed as you climbed out of the bed. Panicked, you looked down at your body. Thankfully you were still fully clothed, bandages covering your sore knees. What the hell did you get yourself into? You swallowed as your bare feet hit the floor, those bandaged as well. You were surprised to realize you weren’t being physically restrained, the bed you were laying on quite neat compared to the rest of the room.

Unsurely you looked around, grabbing a nearby lamp. It looked questionable, possibly over a few decades old. You yanked the cord out of the wall, bracing yourself as you stepped towards the bedroom door. Your escape was interrupted, Jack happening to walk in at the same time. He could hear your heart racing a mile away, so naturally he came to check on you. You stared up at him in terror, your eyes darting back and forth as you stared up at the ominous black empty holes of his mask. Jack awkwardly cleared his throat, his eyebrows raising at the sight of your knuckles turning white from gripping the lamp so hard. “Hello, how are you feeling?” He asked, trying his hardest to keep his voice even. You looked absolutely bewildered and although the situation not ideal, Jack couldn’t place why. “How am I feeling? What the fuck is this? Who the fuck are you?” You hissed. 

Jack raised an eyebrow under his mask at the sight of you bouncing your weight back and forth on each foot as you stared at him defensively. You appeared to be ready to attack, although Jacks hands were shoved in his hoodie pocket. “My name is Jack. You passed out drunk in the forest last night. I brought you to my cabin to ensure you wouldn’t be devoured by local coyotes,” He answered honestly. Your face softened for a moment, your grip on the lamp loosening. Jack tilted his head to the side as he pointed at the lamp. “Would you mind putting that down? Its quite sentimental to me,” He asked. Sentimentality meant a lot to humans. In this instance it was a thorn in his side if it was broken and he needed to get another. The last thing he desired was to live off of candlelight. You slowly set down the lamp, your gaze fierce as you refused to look away from Jack. 

“Don’t you think it’s kinda creepy and off putting to live in the middle of the woods and wear that mask?” You asked bluntly.  Jack couldn’t quite understand why this was your question. You were a lot more feisty and logical sober. “Dont you find it quite unsafe to become so intoxicated you wander into forest miles away from civilization?” He quipped, matching your energy. This seemed to humble you a bit, your shoulders dropping as you crossed your arms. “You’ve never been to a Mark Wilder party I assume. Everyone gets trashed. I followed some guy into the woods, I don’t remember where he went. I think I was trying to follow him or something,” You explained. While intelligent you seemed to lack ‘street smarts’. You placed your hand on your head, rubbing your temple. Your head was relentlessly pounding, your eyes squeezing shut. Jack wondered if you felt as awkward as he did.

“Would you like tylenol? I have some down in the kitchen,” Jack offered. You rubbed your eyes, overwhelmed. “Wait so i’m not like, trapped here or anything?” You questioned. Jack turned around, anticipating you to follow him. Curiously you did so, ignoring the stinging from the wounds that rubbed against the bandages. You followed him down a dusty staircase, each wooden slab creaking under your weight. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander around, noticing the mountains of dust that coated the paintings that covered the walls. “This is your cabin?” You asked slowly. Jack could hear the disbelief and fear lacing your words. You followed closely behind Jack as he turned into the tiny kitchen. To your dismay it looked like it hadn’t been used in ages, the stove rusted and fridge humming so loud you anticipated it to explode. “Mostly. I visit often, but never stay for long,” Jack answered honestly. His explanation may have been vague, but he couldn’t violate too many of The Operators rules. 

He handed you a bottle of tylenol as well as a bottle of water. Both of which he had stolen from a nearby gas station before the sun came up. Jack had studied alcohol and its affects to the human body. While he couldn’t become intoxicated as easily, he was forced to study it due to Masky’s temporarily alcoholism. He had stolen saltine crackers (just a sleeve, not the whole box), a bottle of water, and tylenol. The cabin was just lucky enough to have faint electricity, he knew anything a fragile human girl would need would not be readily available. Hesitantly you took the bottle, satisfied to see it had been unopened. You popped two of the pain killers like candy, chugging the bottle of water. You leaned against the rusted dishwasher, opening the sleeve of crackers. “So, aren’t you going to ask me my name or anything?” You asked. You weren’t buying the whole savior act. You weren’t aware Jack wasn’t attempting to sell you any sort of act. Underneath his mask he was feeling extremely awkward, unsure how to interact with you.

With each passing second he could hear your heart beat, the blood flowing through your veins. It became hard for him to focus, the demon thrilled you decided to begin a civil conversation. “I don’t need to. Your backpack provided that for me,” Jack explained. He reached over the counter, grabbing your backpack from a dusty bar stool. Dust particles floated carelessly in the air as he held it up. Your name had been stitched onto the front pocket, courtesy of your mother. You felt heat flush to your cheeks, mumbling a thanks as you took it from him. Popping a cracker into your mouth you grabbed his wrist, stopping him from concealing his hand. Jack froze under your warm touch, your eyes curiously examining his skin. “Argryia,” He stated dryly. He silently hoped you wouldn’t recall your own theory.  Your eyes seemed to flicker at the word, a sense of recognition igniting them. “That’s absurdly unlucky. Do you know how rare that is?” You asked curiously. It was as if your interest had peeked, Jack analyzing you as you studied the color of his hand. 

“All too well unfortunately,” Jack responded. He watched you stroke your thumb over the harshness of his skin, before pulling away. “Well if it makes you feel any better I understand the whole cabin in the woods mask thing now,” You sighed, resuming your attention back to the bottle of water. Jack was mesmerized as he watched you gulp down the bottle as if you were dying of thirst. “If I may ask, how do you know what argryia is?” He asked you. It was irresponsible for him to engage in anything beyond a mild conversation with you. Slender would be far from happy if he found out. You swallowed the cracker you were nibbling on, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “I’m a med student at Harvard. I’m gonna be a doctor some day,” You explained, taking another sip of your water. Jacks interest was peaked. You were attending the same university he did ages ago for an identical major. “Speaking of medicine, how did you bandage me up so well? If I didn’t know any better i’d think you were a doctor yourself,” You said. Jack couldn’t help but feel his heart skip a beat at your flattery. 

“Medicine is my pride and joy. I’ve studied it for years,” He answered. While he was answering honestly he was beating around the bush. While you seemed harmless, he knew humans were prone to gossip. Sharing stories with one another formed stronger bonds. He had no doubt this would be one you would be sharing. “Well Dr.Jack, as fun as this has been I think it’s time for me to bounce,” You say, shoving your backpack over your shoulders. Jack anxiously followed behind you as you turned towards the front door. “Do you know how to get back?” He asked unsurely. Maybe he was hovering too heavily, but he felt an odd urge to look after you. The sun may have provided some form of a safety net, but Jack knew what creatures lurked in these woods. One wrong turn and you could cross the threshold into Slender’s forest, where The Rake would have a field day with you. You dug into your backpack, taking out a cracked iphone. It was on a smooth five percent, multiple missed calls and text on your lockscreen. “I have GPS, i’ll be fine,” You assured him. 

You stepped onto the porch, the wood rotting from age. You looked over your shoulder at the demon, his eye sockets wide. “Thank you for everything Jack, i’ll see you later!” You said cheerfully, biting into another cracker before stepping down onto the forest floor. Jack tried not to hover too much, truly. He was sure you were uneasy from being in a cabin with a stranger. Even if his intentions were pure, he knew what monsters lurked in the shadows that loved to prey on a pretty face like yours. So Jack said nothing, waving goodbye as you traveled into the forest alone. Jack would’ve loved for that to have been the end of it. He would’ve thought that he would never see you again, allowing you to be on your way. That’s how it should’ve gone. 

But it didn’t.

As stealthy as he could he followed you, from a safe distance of course. You appeared to be studying your phone, the sun rays blocking out whatever was on your screen. Jack opted to use the trees above as leverage, jumping from each branch with ease. The crunching of the previously fallen leaf’s would be a dead giveaway, traveling by tall trees much safer as to not be caught. From what Jack could tell you were blissfully oblivious as you traveled, carelessly heading north. Jack sighed as he watched you. Did humans have no sense of awareness at all? Although he didn’t expect you to catch him following you, he did expect you to look around every once in a while. Instead your attention was glued to your phone, as a majority of humans were. He knew most of them spent their time focused on their cellar device but he couldn’t help but question how any humans had made it this far if this was the base level of survival skills. He silently trailed behind you, attempting to not stay on one tree branch for too long. If he did the leafs were bound to fall, exposing him.

Jack wasn’t proud of himself for following you. If anything your hesitance to trust him was proven correct based on his behavior. Although the demon inside of him was purring with satisfaction of stalking, Jack fought his primal urges internally. He knew his intentions were pure, even if the demon lurking in the depths of his being craved something more sinister. Jack was pleasantly surprised to find that you had found your way back to civilization, the Harvard campus attached to these woods. He was slightly impressed that a human of your stature had traveled miles without complaint or sign of slowing down. He managed a small smile as he watched you join the hoards of students, disappearing in the waves of students traveling every which direction. The sounds of voices, heartbeats, and pumping blood began to feel overwhelming, causing the demon to turn away. 

Slender wouldn’t be happy, he knew that. But he felt a sense of ease for the first time in a long time. He had spent his time doing something good. Something morally good. Something impactful. Meaningful even. He walked back the rest of the way, a certain weight slightly lifted off of his shoulders as he strolled. He could feel his stomach growl, the demon cracking his neck at the sound. For once his hunger wasn’t the priority, but an afterthought. He gleamed with a sense of pride as he made it back to the cabin, making sure he had locked it. Slender had multiple run down cabins littered throughout the nearby forest, just in case a creep or proxy was injured. It was meant to look run down and abandoned, so no nosy humans would investigate. Jack’s footsteps echoed throughout the hollow cabin as he checked the back door, a surprise gasp escaping his lips. He had nearly tripped over your heels, his eye sockets widening.

Shit.

Well, if Slender was pissed now he knew this would send him into a fit of rage. Jack didn’t know much about fashion but your shoes looked expensive, even if he didn’t recognize the name brand. He was going to return them to you, putting his and all the creeps' risk of exposure on the line. He couldn’t describe the feeling, but he had an odd sense of relief wash over him knowing he would see you again.

[sir3n-s]

Since Eddie came to live with him, Wayne has seen him bring home many things.

Mainly bugs or hurt animals.

One time he brought home a skunk. Sometimes Wayne thinks he can still smell it.

But this? This is something else.

"Wayne I can explain" he says standing in the doorway with a jar.

A jar that has a pixie in it.

"That jar better have holes in it, Edward.'" He's praying that his nephew didn't hurt the pixie.

Pixies have been around for centuries and helping them will bring good luck. As in the pixie will most likely bring you gifts.

Hurting a pixie though?

He has heard some stories that would be labeled as horror if they were movies.

"Of course, it has holes in it!" Eddie says like it was ridiculous of him to ask, "I'm not stupid" Wayne thinks that is debatable but now is not the time for that.

"Yet you have a pixie in a jar" he sighs, wondering why this kid can't give him a break, "knowing what they are capable of."

"I know, I know!" Eddie says, looking down at the jar. "I just wanted to say hi, and then he attacked me! I didn't want to hurt him, but he wouldn't leave me alone!"

"So you thought putting it in a jar would make it like you," he says while getting up.

"Well no but I tried runng but he followed me"

He's going to need a beer after this. 

"Give me the jar," he says standing in front of his nephew. 

Eddie doesn't hesitate to hand it over. 

Wayne walks out the door of the trailer and starts opening the jar, "I apologize for my nephew, he doesn't think before he acts. He's a good kid, please don't hurt him" he takes the top off and lets the pixie fly out.

It flies in front of Wayne’s face for a moment before smiling and nodding at him, then zooms off.

Wayne walks back into the trailer to grab a beer and start lecturing his nephew.

-

Over the next few weeks, Eddie sees the pixie, who he learns name is Steve, come by the trailer to give gifts to Wayne.  

Eddie has tried to get close enough to apologize but Steve always files away the moment he sees Eddie. 

But he also doesn't do anything to Eddie so he guesses that Steve likes Wayne enough to leave his nephew alone. 

Which is good because pixies can be terrifying. 

"Give him some fruit," Wayne suggests after hearing Eddie complain about Steve leaving once he saw Eddie pull up to the trailer. "He really likes peaches." 

So Eddie cuts up a peach and puts it on a plate. He takes it outside to the bench close by and waits. 

Steve does eventually show up but Eddie can tell he's still cautious of him because he doesn't immediately go for the peach like he would if Wayne was the one offering it.

Eddie smiles at him and pushes the plate towards him hoping to encourage him to eat it.

Steve must have decided to trust Eddie because he dives for the peach slices.

He watches Steve eat a really small amount of the the peach, but pixies are so small it was probably a lot to him.

Once it seems like Steve had his fill of the fruit Eddie sets a napkin down next to the plate.

Steve wipes his hands and face with it. Then he just sits there and stares at Eddie for a moment.

"Thank you" the pixie says. And honestly Eddie is surprised, he didn't know they could communicate with humans.

"You're welcome" he responds, tapping his finger on the table, "I am sorry about the jar thing, I really didn't mean to hurt you"

Steve reached for Eddie's hand and placed his tiny hand on top of his finger, stopping its movement.

"Its okay" Steve smiles at him.

[bullet-prooflove]

Honesty: Terry Silver x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @thedeadsingforme @mia1653 @kimbergoldess @cortmac1989

Companion piece to:

Roses - A bouquet of roses sparks an act of revenge.

Punishment (NSFW) - Terry decides to punish you when you misbehave.

Inspiration - Terry helps you find inspiration after you run into your ex.

Mine (NSFW) - Terry needs you to remember exactly who you belong to.

The Red Room - Terry takes care of a threat.

Poison - Terry takes action when he discovers there's a nude painting of you.

JP does not learn his lesson about contacting you. Terry finds that out one morning when he’s sipping his coffee in the kitchen, reading the news on his tablet and you appear in front of him, holding up your phone with that expression on your face, the one that tells him you’re extremely pissed off.

“What did you do?” You ask him as he takes it to study the DMs JP’s been sending you over Instagram.

“I sent a message.” He tells you bluntly, leaning back in his seat.

“Oh I can see that.” You say, your thumb scrolling over the screen to the pictures. “He had to see  a plastic surgeon about the nose.”

Terry tilts his face away, his lips pursing together before he sighs.

“He sent a message to your phone inviting you to The Red Room.” Terry tells you before meeting your gaze. “I know what happened there the first time and I didn’t want you to have to go back there-” He taps his temple. “-in here, so I confronted him.”

“You beat the shit out of him.” You state frankly, placing a hand on your hip.

“I did.” Terry informs you with a ferocity he feels in the depth of his bones. “Because he was planning to do it again Georgia and I don’t think a ‘no’ would have sufficed this time.”

There it is laid out into the space between the two of you, the real reason he snapped that night. He remembers that sensation when he stepped into that room back in the sex club, the way JP was testing those restraints. He even knows what the plan was, he found the GHB in JP’s pockets after he’d beaten the man half to death.

Meet you at the bar to discuss leaving you alone, slip you something, take you downstairs…

He’s lucky Terry didn’t kill him.

“I won’t apologise for protecting you.” He tells you, his gaze unflinching. “I take that part of my vows very seriously.”

“I’m not asking you to apologise.” You say to his surprise before you situate yourself in his lap. “I just want to know why you lied to me about it. When I asked you about the split knuckles, you told me you went too hard during training.”

Terry’s hands coming to rest on waist, his thumbs lightly caressing small circles through the tank top you’re wearing.

“I don’t want you to be scared of me.” He tells you honestly. “Seeing that violence, knowing what I’m capable of…”

“What I’ve always known you were capable of.” You remind him because Terry’s been pretty upfront about his past, his addiction issues, his PTSD, all of it. “And I could never be scared of you because I know you would never hurt me like that. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to keep secrets from me, especially ones that actually concern me.”

You amaze him, truly you do. The faith you have in him, your surety it sustains him. There have been so many times he could have fallen right back into the person he used to be but you’re always there, a constant reminder of the man that he can be, the better one, the happier one.

“Alright my love.” Terry murmurs as his arms wrap around you drawing you close. “If we’re being completely honest then I need to tell you what I did about his painting.”

“What painting?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowing into a frown.

“The naked one.” Terry tells you, his fingertips tucking a stray strand of hair back behind your ear. “The one he did of you.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[tuxedoferret]

Arcane finale was good....but

Spoilers for the finale of Arcane season 2, Arc 3 in general.

I'm probably screaming into the void but I wanted to get these thoughts out and see what other people think.

In general, I liked the endings for most of the characters. Their arcs make sense.

Vi, Caitlyn, Ekko, Jayce, Mel, Singed, and Viktor's story conclusions, I think were ended beautifully! (And Jinx too but I'll circle back to her in a second). Their endings made sense and were executed very well! I'm content with how their stories end!

And MOST of the deaths make sense... most of them.

Of course most of the minor characters are dead, no surprise since a majority of them we don't even know the NAMES of unless you scour the credits in the VA section.

Ambessa's death was well done, with Mel finally getting her mothers approval through breaking free of her control and finally being able to decide her own life and Caitlyn becoming a true leader.

The only thing that really bothers me, is the deaths of Heimerdinger and Warwick/Vander. Out of all of the champions in the game they're the only non-humanoid ones that made it into the show. They're also the only (game first) champions to actually die and they barely get to do anything. (I am one of the believers that Jinx is alive because there's no fucking way they would kill off one of their chief money makers, also based on evidence in the show).

With Heimerdinger in season 1 we see him serve as an oppositional force against Jayce, and then a mentor working with him. He gets kicked off of the council as a result of his conservative viewpoint. And he reflects on this, he leaves to go help the Zaunites however he can but gets shunned away. Then the goes and helps Ekko with repairing his board and getting home. In season 2 this continues with Heimerdinger helping Ekko get into Jayce's lab and them having the discussion about wild runes before getting sucked up into the anomaly. His last episode is him in the alternate universe with helping Ekko build the Z-Drive to return to his own universe. He puts it in the amplifier, is about to go with Ekko, then runs out and puts a few more things together and just... dies. Thats it for him. MAYBE he'll come back since he's a Yordle but this is new canon and the man had flesh and blood squished out of him. But in general his death feels cheap and unnecessary. What was the point of his death? How did it impact the narrative and what did the story gain from it as a result? Not fucking much really. He's never mentioned again afterwards. I feel like his death had no impact on the story whatsoever. I honestly think it would've been better if he had survived and returned with Ekko to fight in the battle against Noxus and Viktor. I would've liked to see him, either returning to the council or not, atoning for his mistakes by trying to make things better in Zaun with his inventions.

With Vander/Warwick there was so much hype around the theory that Vander would be returning as Warwick. And we were all super excited when that came true! We love it when the narrative rewards us for paying attention! But we get like... 3 episodes with him before he becomes a Viktor automaton. He was also still very much alive even after Singed drained his blood, so Viktor was wrong about how that would kill him. Warwick's role in the end felt very lackluster, and it felt redundant to just, kill him off AGAIN. Maybe I'm just a little mad because I have read up on Warwick and I feel like he had more potential for the narrative than just... make Vi watch her dad die all over again. The fight scene with Warwick could've been replaced with any big evil bruiser really (coughBlitzcrankcough). In general Warwick felt more like a Vi and Jinx accessory than his own potential character. Which kind of sucks. And maybe I'm a bit salty that we didn't get a full wolf Warwick. I think the whole his mind was reset/erased bit could've still been done if the explosion damaged his head and it healed back wrong/if singed replaced his head with one of the wolves' heads to make him fully Warwick in the end.

Isha's death kind of feels... not impactful at all to the story afterwards aside from Jinx's spiral. I would've liked it if her death did more than just that (Like I said, permanently damaging Warwick/Vander would've been nice)

This is about the league of LEGENDS and you'd think that Warwick and Heimerdinger would have bigger roles than just being killed off to further another characters story after barely impacting the narrative.

Also I feel like Sevika being on the council is like... stupid. I think she wasn't handled well at all after episode 4. She just completely disappears after running away with Isha. Why do we never see her hanging with Jinx and Isha again? I would have LOVED to see how Sevika reacted to Vander not being as dead as previously thought, the man she betrayed and ultimately ended up mirroring in the end with her refusing to give up Jinx to Piltover. I think it would've been fun if Sevika was the one to tell Vi when she woke up that Jinx gave herself up, despite all of Sevika's protests, an inversion of what happened with Vi and Vander. Putting Sevika on the council in the end is just kind of weird for her character. I understand it's like, the idea of Zaun finally getting representation on the council, Sevika getting a say in what happens in the undercity. But I feel like that could've just as easily been accomplished with finally letting Zaun have its own independence with Sevika being the "Baron" of Zaun, being the new leader. Because we've seen she's a genuinely good leader! She has a good head on her shoulders. It would've been fun to see how she'd struggle with being the new leader of Zaun, struggling against the Chem Barons if future series ever decided to look into Zaun again.

In general I'm fine with the ending of Arcane. But I feel like the endings could've been written a different way for those 3 characters. I honestly feel like it would've been better if the show ended off where the game picks up, and I don't even play League, I just like the lore from what little I've been reading.

[mirandasidefics]

But Home is Nowhere- Chapter 12 Pt2

Pairing(s): Lucien x Plus Size Reader, Azriel x Plus Size Reader, and Ruhn Dannan x Plus Size Reader.

Summary: Azriel and Reader finally start to bond bringing about some strange feelings that Azriel isn't sure how to process. It's made all the more complicated when Azriel confronts Ruhn about his actions.

Word Count: 5.8 K

Warnings: Mentions of nudity, sexually suggestive dialogue (no smut)

Author's Note: I'm still in a bit of a funk, and with the holidays coming up, things may be a bit slower. So I apologize for things slowing down. I can't thank you all enough for the support that this fic is getting along with some of my other little stories.

As always, a HUGE thank you to my beta reader @hardcoremarvelfan for all her help with this chapter. She really helped out with the struggles I was having for the Azriel and Ruhn scene and I don't think that I could have gotten past that block without her!

Series Masterlist Divider by @/tsunami-of-tears

Previous: Chapter 12 pt1 Next: Chapter 13

A half hour passed by quickly and Azriel was back at the front of the townhouse waiting for (Y/N) to emerge. He sent in a shadow to let her know of his arrival, even though she still appeared uncomfortable around them, she seemed to do better with a single shadow at a time. He couldn’t help but wonder if she had the same reactions to Ruhn’s shadows as she did with his.

When she finally joined him in front Azriel drank in the sight of her. He knew instantly that this wasn’t a dress Rhysand had originally picked out for her, but one that was very likely picked with either the assistance of Mor or Bryce. The simple silver off shoulder sweater dress was perfect for her frame. 

“Wow.” He whispered to himself. 

“I know right. I never thought that I would have the opportunity to actually wear this. Bryce picked it out. Apparently she wanted to take me to this place called Rita’s here. I told her I haven’t been out to a club in like a decade… literally.” 

“Wait, how old are you?” Azriel asked, realizing that was something he had never learned about her. 

“How old do I look?” She challenged. Azriel paused for a moment as she looked down from the stair stoop of the townhouse. 

“I’m not answering that. Not if I want to continue living,” He smiled.

“Good boy,” She quipped. 

A couple hours later, Azriel and (Y/N) returned to the townhouse after the concert. They decided to walk back from the concert hall and the entire time she spent gushing about the experience. He noted each of her hand movements as she talked, the way she walked slightly angled towards him. He was surprised that she hadn’t tripped on the cobble stone path in the high heels she wore. Azriel smiled the entire time she spent describing the music, her descriptions even provided him with insights into the pieces he had never considered before. 

However, her chatty demeanor quickly dissolved the minute they approached the townhouse, which was still as dark as they had left it before leaving for the concert. Azriel watched as the sparkle that had been in her eyes throughout the performance slowly dissipated. It was starting to get late and it was clear that Ruhn had still not yet returned from whatever Rhys and Cassian were having him do. 

“I’m sure he will be back soon,” He reassured her. However, she didn’t bother to acknowledge him. Instead she squared her shoulders, entering the townhouse as if nothing was wrong and resumed their conversation. 

“So a requiem in my world also serves the purpose of remembering and honoring the dead,” She explained. “One of the largest religions has a very specific ritual surrounding it and many composers have set music to the prayers that make up the Mass. It’s honestly fascinating to see the same occurring here, but with a completely different religious base.” Azriel couldn’t help but smile as she continued to talk about what she found most enjoyable about the concert. “What were the parts of this one again? I’m so used to the Latin from my world,” She looked at him and Azriel’s mind froze for a half second before he remembered what she asked. 

“So there are eight segments, the first seven are based on the elements of life that the Mother placed in her Cauldron to create Pyrthian, which are Darkness, Sun, Moon, Earth, Water, Sky, and Fate. The final segment is the standard prayer that the Fae recites to those that are dying and was added much later.” He explained as they entered the parlor.  

“Yes I recognized the prayer. My mother taught me that one. It’s been passed down in my family for generations.” Her previous excitement was diminished, but she was making an effort to not let her disappointment in Ruhn’s continued absence show. “I also really enjoyed the segments for Moon and Earth. I am so impressed with this composer’s ability to encapsulate the imagery of each concept. It reminded me more of “The Planets” by Holst than a liturgical mass of traditional requiems in my world. It’s fascinating. And see this was one of my favorite things about music, the ability to allow us to gain insight into a wholly different culture through sound and the emotions it can help us experience. Oh! And…I’m rambling again…” She trailed off, but Azriel truly didn’t mind. There was a long pause before she spoke again.

“Thank you,” She whispered. “Wow…I didn’t think I’d ever thank you for anything if I’m being honest.” Azriel chuckled, slightly shaking his head. 

“Just glad that I could help, even for a few moments.” He admitted as they sat down in the parlor. The conversation between them dwindled, the silence more comfortable than it had been in the past. But just as the silence grew, so did her anxiety. 

“I should head up to bed soon.” Her voice was quiet and tried to mask the worry.  He watched as she chewed on her lower lip, wondering if she was aware of how frequently she looked towards the clock on the wall. He noted that it was getting late, well past midnight. He also noted how Ruhn had still not arrived. 

“Will you be needing more of the tonic soon?” He asked, trying to keep a conversation going, hoping that it could possibly lead to a new topic to help ease her mind. She merely continued  to chew on her lower lip and began to pick at her nails. 

“He’s never been home this late before,” Her whisper was her only response. “It’s been a week. I was hoping to talk to him tonight…I can’t…” Her eyes flicked to the clock again. 

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” Azriel tried to reassure. “But what is it you can’t do?”

“I can’t take the tonic tonight. If I take it for more than...a week at a time…” She sighed. “That’s when I pretty much reach my limit before I start to build a tolerance for opiates. After that I notice that I have to start upping the dosage to have the same effect. And that…that just won’t be good for me in the long run.” Azriel nodded in understanding, his own mother experienced the same issue from time to time. He watched as she continued to chew on her lip and pick at her nails. He wanted to rest his hands upon her before she hurt herself again but stopped himself. He could tell she was lost in thought and his touching her suddenly had the potential to undo all the progress they made over the past year.  

“Would you…would you like for me to stay here until he shows up?” Azriel asked tentatively. She nodded, her eyes still mostly glazed over from whatever scenario was playing out in her mind. “Go upstairs then and get some rest. I’ll let Cassian know that you won’t be at the training tomorrow.” She nodded again, making her way towards the staircase. Azriel watched closely, but remained a few steps behind her. As soon as she closed the bedroom door, he took a steadying breath and plopped himself on the staircase.  

Azriel sat on the center of the staircase, head bowed down as his elbows rested on his knees. It had been a couple of hours since (Y/N) went to bed, though his shadows informed that it was not at all a restful sleep. His own hearing could attest to her experiencing at least one partial nightmare that she was able to wake herself from without screaming. After the first hour of waiting for the Midgardian male to return he had decided that he was going to have a small chat with Ruhn upon his return.  

A few minutes later, Azriel heard the beating of Cassian’s wings in front of the townhouse. Given the hour it was slightly unusual for him to even be awake this late, much less out and about town. For a slight moment, Azriel even wondered if something may have happened to Ruhn. That thought was quickly dismissed as a second set of uneven steps were heard all the way from the gate.

As soon as the pair reached the front door Azriel was able to smell the stale and bitter stench of ale. Once the door opened the varying scents of different females were added to the mix. Azriel felt the shadow of rage begin to build within his gut. If the scents of the females truly indicated what he assumed, then he’d have every reason to physically beat some sense into Ruhn rather than just listen to whatever bullshit he may have spun as an explanation for his behavior.   

As soon as Ruhn stumbled through the door, he made a beeline for the parlor, falling face first on the couch. Cassian stood in the entryway, his gaze moving towards Azriel. “Go easy on him brother,” Cassian’s voice almost sounded defeated. “He’s been a mess all week and I figured he could use a break. So, I took him to Rita’s. He was quite the novelty amongst the females, I almost wonder if I should have kept a better eye on him.” Azriel stood from his spot on the stairs, nodding his acknowledgment of Cassian’s words, but his eyes remained on the other clearly exceedingly drunk male. 

Azriel descended the stairs turning to Cassian and sighed. “I got it from here.” Cassian nodded, leaving the townhouse and returning to his own home. With his arms crossed Azriel entered the parlor and stopped in the other male’s line of sight. Or at least it would have been his line of sight had Ruhn’s eyes had been open. 

“What happened between you and (Y/N)?” Azriel questioned. Ruhn merely groaned in response, arm falling off the side of the couch. Azriel sighed again, closing his eyes to take a deep breath and keep the building rage at a simmer. “She said you made her feel ‘forgotten.’ You of all people.” This time Ruhn managed to release a sequence of incoherent noises, only a few words making any sense.

“Stupid… can’t… gonna…up…”

Not even a second later Ruhn bolted up from the couch and ran towards the kitchen, without a care that he bumped into Azriel as he dashed by. Azriel quietly thanked the Mother that the purple eyed male made it to the kitchen sink before puking inside. Ruhn remained draped over the sink, breathing heavily and occasionally spitting into the basin. Azriel walked over to the male, the awful stench of stale ale, whiskey, and whatever food Ruhn had managed to eat nearly overpowering Azriel’s nostrils. Turning on the tap, Azriel rinsed the vomit down the drain before grabbing and filling a glass of water for the other male. Clearing his throat, Azriel garnered Ruhn’s attention, slightly shaking the glass of water. Ruhn made to reach for the glass, but Azriel withheld it. He needed to hear exactly what the hell happened between them, though he wasn’t entirely sure why he found himself caring so much about a squabble between them. 

“What. Did you say. To (Y/N)?” His speech was slow, voice filled with the dark undertone he reserved for his interrogations. He blinked away the surprise, having honestly not intended to use that tone when talking to Ruhn. 

“I fucked up.” Ruhn muttered, his voice a bit clearer now that he emptied a good portion of the contents of his stomach. 

“Yeah, I’m aware of that much. Question is: How?” Azriel insisted, hauling the younger male to sit at the small breakfast table on the far side of the kitchen. Ruhn stumbles over, the metal chair from the table squeaking against the tile floor as the male practically drops himself down. 

Ruhn leans his head back against the wall, “I called her ‘Lidia.’” 

“Lidia?” Azriel sat himself opposite the male across the small breakfast table. The water glass was still in the Illyrian’s hand, holding it just out of reach as incentive for answers. 

“Lidia Cervos, also known as ‘the Hind’. She was a female shifter from Midgard.” Ruhn paused, letting out a heavy sigh. “I thought… I don’ fuckin’ know.” He paused again, a wry chuckle escaping him. “I…cared ‘bout her. She died before I could… figure my shit out.” Ruhn chuckles again, but the laughter quickly turns to tears. “Lidia died…just to save me.”

Azriel remained quiet, taking in the information. He could almost see where this was going, but needed the other male to confirm, he’d long learned to never assume anything during an interrogation. Ruhn released a pathetic whine, his head falling to the table, forehead banging hard against the glass surface. Luckily it didn’t break. The younger male’s arms came up to support his head as he continued to rest it on the table. 

“Okay, so, you called her by another female’s name,” Azriel tried to brush off the icky feeling saying the words out loud gave him, “I’ve called Rhys Cassian and vice versa. So, it sounds like an honest and innocent mistake. Just a slip of the tongue. Unless-”

“I had her nipple in my mouth.” Ruhn’s voice was muffled by his arms, but the shame in his voice was as clear as the winter night skies of Illyria. Azriel felt the simmering rage turn into a boil and it took everything within him not to lash out. 

After a few deep breaths, he was finally able to respond with a simple, “Oh.”  

“Her sweet, perky nipple…” Ruhn trailed off, as if lost in the memory. “FUCK! I’m so stupid! How could I…I was thinking about (Y/N)! Her intoxicatin’ scent, the way it takes on a slight tinge of amber when she’s aroused. Fuckin’ Urd, I get so fuckin’ hard jus’ thinkin’ about it!”

“Alright, I don’t need to hear that.” Az shuddered. The last thing he wanted was to imagine the human woman in that state. Naked and moaning, another male’s mouth on her breast. He didn’t want to know, let alone allow himself to imagine what that change in her scent would taste like. The sweet and savory taste of the slickness between her…Azriel caught himself. The thoughts swirling around in his head took him by surprise. He couldn’t deny that the woman was attractive, but he couldn’t afford to have those thoughts. There were other…other things-people- he needed to focus on. Azriel shook his head, hoping the physical action would work to clear the questions forming in his mind about (Y/N). His focus returned to the blubbering male in front of him. 

“Why’d I say Lidia? I wasn’ thinkin’ ‘bout her, at least not then,” Ruhn continued, his tears were silent and slow. “I wanted that moment with (Y/N) for years now. I can’t believe I fucked it up. When Lucien-”

“Lucien? What does…” Azriel’s attention perked up at the mention of the Autumn male. “Lucien is mated.”

Ruhn sits up, scoffing at the reminder of Luicen’s relationship status, “Yeah, well his ‘mate’ won’ give ‘m the time of day, let alone even acknowledge the bond.” Ruhn took hold of the glass of water, drinking half of it quickly before continuing. “I may be new ‘round here, and mating bonds seem to be a little different, but I’m not blind. Elain wants nothin’ to do with him.”

“I still don’t see what that has to do with (Y/N)?” 

“I thought Lucien… he and (Y/N) would be something more than jus’ friends,” Ruhn explained. “But things changed after tha’ first trip to that other court. Lu kept his distance, and even if he didn’ ask me to help I would have. The past three years we’ve become so close.” He sighed, finishing the water in his glass. Azriel stood and refilled it for him before sitting back across from the male. “I didn’ wanna rush things between us either. She’s been through so much. Last thing on her mind was romance or sex. Then her birthday came; I wanted to make it special for her. I didn’ do it with the hope of anythin’, but…she kissed me an’ I thought, ‘Finally!’” He smiled softly to himself. “I could feel it, she wanted me as much as I wanted her.” Ruhn ran his hand through his mangled hair. “I jus’ had to fuck it up.” He reached for the refilled glass again, Azriel sliding it towards him. 

“Did you apologize?” Azriel asked, knowing that even if Ruhn had, the likelihood of her being receptive to that apology in the moment was minimal. 

“I tried,” Ruhn sighed, spinning the glass of water in his hands along the smooth glass surface of the table. 

Azriel sighed again, his own hand running through his short hair, as he debated on saying anything. His own thoughts surrounding the woman were jumbled. It would be so easy to withhold what he knew about her feelings, her worry for the Midgardian prince. Ruhn deserved to wallow in self pity. Deserved to spend a few more nights away from her. However, Azriel eventually settled on his earlier admission to himself. (Y/N) deserved someone that made her feel safe, and Ruhn made her feel safe, even if they were in the middle of a fight. “She misses you.”

“I miss her,” Ruhn picked up the glass, drinking the contents in a singular gulp, throwing it back like a shot. He paused, setting the glass back down on the table, “Did she really say I made her feel ‘forgotten?’” Azriel could only nod, causing Ruhn to groan, his head returning to rest against his arms on the table.  

“I can’t believe I did this. She’s all I think about and…” He trails off.  “Her softness. Her body is so soft, yet also firm, strong. Even with all the trainin’ over the years she still has those plush feminine curves.” Ruhn closed his eyes and groaned. “And her skin tasted like… like… fuck, I don’t even know how to describe it. Imagine your-your favorite dessert, the one that’s not overwhelmingly sweet so you savor every bite. You then spend the rest of your life only wanting that flavor, craving it and daydreaming about the next time you’ll get a taste.” 

The Shadowsinger shifted his wings, bringing them closer to his body. Even his shadows began to swirl and vibrate as the other male’s description of how the human woman’s nipple tasted made his cock twitch. With a deep breath Azriel willed himself to remain soft. 

“Lidia…the shit with Lidia is just a jumble of thread. I wanna ignore it; a loose end with no closure.” Silver tears returned to line purple irises. “I had just found her and…there’s a lot of shit I gotta unpack ‘bout her. I sure as Hel didn’ think I’d find anyone else, but…(Y/N) just had to walk into that fuckin’ dining room. It’s like…the more time I spend with her, the more I get to know her, fuck… she is jus’ what I needed. Straight from my dreams. I felt this way with Lidia and… it’s so fuckin’ hard,” Despite the cracks in his voice, his words became clearer. “I feel guilty, like I shouldn’ wanna even be with anyone else. And ashamed, ashamed that I didn’ grieve the female that was likely-” The prince paused, trying to compose the tears that wouldn’t stop. Azriel hated to admit it, but the young shadow wielder was a damn mess without (Y/N). “I’m falling in love…I’m in love with (Y/N).”

Love. That simple word rattled something deep in Azriel, a wave of nausea swirled in his gut. He shouldn’t have been surprised. It wasn’t as if the Prince’s behaviors didn’t give away his feelings towards the woman. Nevertheless, the Shadowsinger didn’t expect to hear that exact word, that exact confession and the genuine emotion in Ruhn’s voice as he finally expressed the sentiment out loud. Azriel felt the blood rush to his head, his vision tunneling as the nausea built and acidic bile burned his throat. His mind echoed a singular truth: Ruhn is in love with (Y/N). The thought played over and over in his mind on a tortuous loop. 

Another thought struck Azriel, why the hell did he even care? Why did he care if any male- Human, Fae, or otherwise-held any feelings or sexual fantasies for (Y/N)? He didn’t. He didn’t care. His body just responded as any sexually frustrated male would upon hearing Ruhn’s desire for her. Azriel reminded himself that he’d had similar thoughts about Elain many times over the past few years. Said fantasies regarding Elain made perfect sense for Azriel to have. Just like it made perfect sense for the male crying in front of him to be in love with the human woman that had slowly crept into all of their lives. But if he didn’t care, why did Ruhn’s spoken confession cause such a visceral reaction? Could it be guilt? Azriel recognized that most of his efforts to make (Y/N) feel comfortable in this world stemmed from the guilt from…that week of torture. That had to be what caused these feelings churning deep inside him. Guilt that he wasn’t the one to make her feel safe and secure after he had been the one to break her in the first place. 

It wasn’t anything more than that. It wasn’t anything like what he felt for other females in his life. (Y/N) wasn’t all that unique; sure, she was kind, compassionate, and resilient as hell, but so were Elain and Gwyn, and many of the other Priestesses he’d come to know during the morning training sessions. This feeling in his stomach, and the thoughts now swirling around in his head were all just the result of a guilty conscience and nothing more. Settling on this rationale, the nausea in his stomach subsided, and the rushing of blood in his ears died away, allowing the Spy Master to refocus on the still struggling and drunk male in front of him.   

“I really fucked up,” Ruhn held his face in his hands, elbows resting on the glass table. “I don’ think…I can’t…atone for something like this. Fuckin’ Hel…jus’ a piece a shit…makin’  her feel forgotten.” Azriel continued to listen quietly, biting his tongue to keep his agreement of the Midgaridan’s self assessment to himself. 

The two fell into an uncomfortable silence. Ruhn’s head now leaning back against the wall of the breakfast nook. Azriel glances between the male and his empty water glass, a few minutes pass by before he stands. Picking up the glass from Ruhn’s limp grip, he refilled it a final time. However, instead of returning to his previous perch, he went over to the opposite side of the kitchen. Pulling out a loaf of bread, he ripped off a sizable chunk to then set down in front of the night haired male. Azriel had to pause for the briefest of moments, the tears in Ruhn’s purple eyes reminding the Shadowsinger of Rhysand after he returned from Amarantha’s grasp. 

“Apologize.” Azriel tried to keep his voice soft yet stern. “Don’t just ‘try.’ Make her listen and apologize.” 

“Make her listen, huh?” Ruhn chuckled darkly, picking at the chuck of bread. “You interrogated and tortured her for a week, and you now spend hours with her every day. Yet you still don’t know a fuckin’ thing ‘bout her.” Azriel stopped and turned from where he stood in the doorway leading towards the hall. He was about to counter the Prince’s words, but the utterly defeated look on the male’s face gave him pause. 

“You’re right,” He loosened a heavy breath. “You know her better than I do. So figure something out. Maybe a grand gesture or something.” 

Ruhn began to laugh, “I didn’t peg you as the romantic type Azzie.” Azriel tensed his shoulders at the nickname, mentally brushing it off due to the other male’s drunk status. He looked towards the clock on the wall, dawn was only a couple of hours away now. 

“Look,” The spy master ran his fingers through his hair, “Just…just talk to her. If a grand gesture won’t work, then start with a small one. She made a comment about not really knowing you. That sounds like a good place to start.”

“The last female I opened up to was killed,” Ruhn lifted the water glass to his lips, his movements slow, as if the glass held the weight of his heavy words. The sips he took were slow and deliberate. His eyes glazed over as he stared ahead.  Azriel sighed again. While he kept most of his thoughts to himself, he also understood the other male’s hesitancy. However, the idiot in front of him created this issue. It wasn’t up to Azriel to fix it nor tell him exactly how to do so. Yet, that is exactly what he found himself doing.   

“If I was in your position, trying to regain the trust of someone I was in love with, I’d tell her everything and not hide a single part of who I am.” Azriel stepped closer to the male still sitting at the table. “She’d know of every crime, and every life I’ve taken or irrevocably altered. She’d know about my past and the story behind every single visible and invisible scar. She’d know the reasons behind every sacrifice I’ve made over the last few centuries. Especially regarding the safety of those I love and care for. She would become an integral part of my life, she’d know my loved ones and they would know her.” Azriel didn’t care that Ruhn began to shrink away in shame as he loomed over the younger male; the unintended intimidation of flared wings appeared to be just the thing the “Starborn” Prince needed to understand that any apology to a loved one could not be half assed. “I’d lay my soul bare before her… and if she understood, if she stuck around, and she could feel safe with me then I’d know with complete certainty she would be worth it.”

“And if she couldn’t?” Ruhn questioned. Azriel paused, he knew what answer he would receive from (Y/N) if he truly was in Ruhn’s position; and that would be a very different response than what she would grant the Midgardian Prince. 

“Just talk to her Ruhn,” He muttered, wings returning to tuck in close before turning around to exit the kitchen. “She wants to listen.” Ruhn’s midnight hair shifts as he nods, a long contemplative sigh escaping his lungs. 

“I’ll talk to her, tell her everything…” he mumbled, placing his head on his arms as they rested on the table top.

“And apologize.” Azriel reminded sternly. 

“And apologize,” Ruhn nodded, his voice drifting off as he closed his eyes. Within seconds the younger male was asleep at the table. Azriel didn’t even bother to wake him, perfectly content to let the other male’s muscles cramp from the awkward sleeping position. 

Azriel made it to the bottom landing of the staircase before a soft whimper caught his attention. Against his better judgment, he ascended the stairs giving into the pull he felt to check on (Y/N). The door was already slightly ajar, the light from the hall flooding into the darkness of the bedroom. The beam of light streaked across the wooden floorboards, up along the bed. Her lower limbs tangled up in the wine red colored sheets. He instantly knew that the level of dishevelment was the result of her tossing and turning during a nightmare.  

His hazel eyes followed along her legs, red sheets fading into the black of her night dress. His gaze continued to travel up, snagging on an unexpected exposure of soft flesh. Azriel’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes drank in the sight of her uncovered breast. He tried to avert his eyes, but they continued to linger, a part of him wanting to know if Ruhn’s description was accurate. His questions were answered as she shifted, and a perky nipple made visible in the light from the hall. 

One second Azriel stood frozen in his spot, the next, he was sprinting down the steps and out the front door of the townhouse. The cool air filling his lungs helped him regain his senses long enough to force the organ between his legs to return to a limp state. He glanced back at the townhouse, confusion marking his face. Perhaps he was spending too much time with the human…he shook his head, taking a few steps to exit the gate. It had also been quite some time since he enjoyed the company of a female, perhaps it was time to find that release. As soon as he cleared the gate of the townhouse, Azriel shot into the skies of Velaris, taking his time to process the conflicting and concerning thoughts in his head before returning to the House of Wind.

The sound of glass shattering startled Ruhn awake. Sitting bolt upright, he looked around the darkened room, moonlight filtering through the bay window of the breakfast nook in the kitchen. His heart pounded inside his chest, as he took in the sight of the broken water glass now on the floor.  It took a few more moments for him to get his bearings and remember what transpired earlier in the evening. He could still smell the alcohol, and the various scents of what he could only assume were Fae females on his clothes. He needed to change. He needed to clean up this glass first. It took him ten minutes, but he finally located a broom and dustpan and swept up the shards, dumping them in what appeared to resemble a trash can. His vision was still slightly blurred as the headache of what was sure to become a monster of a hangover made an appearance. 

Ruhn took a few more minutes for himself at the kitchen sink. Grabbing a new, clean glass, he filled it with water from the tap, taking small sips and deep breaths. Gathering the stamina and the courage to face going upstairs. Bits and pieces of his conversation with Azriel stuck out in his mind. He knew that he had to talk to (Y/N). To apologize again, especially now that the woman had some time to get her own thoughts in order. He also knew that Az and Cass were right. He and (Y/N) wouldn’t get anywhere if he didn’t also open up to her. He supposed that he could start small, let her know some of the positives of his life before telling her about all the fucked up shit. 

He finished the glass of water, and slowly made his way upstairs. As he reached the top landing, he heard a faint whimper. He instantly recognized the sound and even in his hazy mind realized that (Y/N) had not taken her tonic tonight. He sighed, a part of his heart breaking that he had allowed himself to fuck around while she suffered. She had already been using the tonic for a full two weeks at this point. One week while with Lucien, and now this past week during their time apart. The Prince closed his eyes, standing outside the bedroom door debating if he should even enter. He heard her sharp movements and that was enough for him to move his feet forward. 

Ruhn quietly entered the bedroom, careful as not to wake the woman sleeping in the bed. Their bed, he reminded himself. The one that he missed sharing. He missed her warmth and the softness of her body as he would curl around it. They had slept next to each other for the past few years and he was surprised by how much he missed her. The past week had been one of the worst he endured since he first arrived. Tossing and turning. Panicking when he couldn’t feel her lying next to him. He lost count of how many times he startled awake to find himself in a room separated from her. Cassian had seen the change in his attention, and after a week decided that it would be a good idea to let off some steam by taking him to a place called Rita’s. 

He carefully made his way around to his side of the bed. Sat on the edge, he took off his shoes; his pants and shirt quickly followed suit. He didn’t care that (Y/N) would likely be pissed that he joined her in bed before she allowed it. He needed to feel her, to hold her. Especially if she had been too afraid to take the tonic tonight.  

He knew that he needed to apologize, he only hoped that she was more willing to listen to him now. He had spent most of the evening trying to figure out exactly what to tell her. Where would he start? Cassian advised to start at the beginning, and Az…well all Ruhn could remember was Azriel telling him to just talk to her. However, which “beginning” would be the best to start off with? Should he tell her about his childhood, his mother, and his dickhead of a Father? Or should he start with telling her more about Midgard and what his life was like before his sister turned it all upside down. Honestly, with the way his head was starting to pound he may as well just flip a coin. Whatever he chose to tell her first didn’t matter. All that matters is that he would be telling her something. 

Ruhn lifted the sheet, immediately noticing that her body was curled in on itself, back towards the center of the bed. She only did that when a nightmare was starting to take hold. He laid down next to her, and carefully wrapped his arm around her middle. Her body immediately began to relax. The knowledge made him smile, his own shoulders and upper back releasing their built up tension. He curled the rest of his taller frame around her, perfectly molding himself to her. She stirred, hips twitching as if she was going to turn over. Ruhn moved his hand seeking hers, interlacing their fingers once it was found. 

She turned over to face him, and that’s when he heard her soft whimpers. Even though he enveloped her during the early stages of her nightmare, it seemed that whatever had played in her mind had already done its intended damage. He hated watching her cry, especially when he felt so powerless against the forces that brought her to tears each and every time. 

He adjusted his limbs to accommodate their new position. One of her legs wiggling its way in between his. His arm wrapped around her back, snaking up her shoulder blades, allowing his fingers to find purchase in her hair. He gently tugged on the roots, reassuring her that he was there. She let out a shaky breath and the smallest whine before pressing her face into his chest. 

“It’s okay baby,” He assured, another gentle tug, “I’m here. You’re safe.” She seemed to relax a bit more at his dulcet timber. “Go back to sleep. I’m right here.” 

General tag list: @loving-and-dreaming

Series tag list: @jenniferpendragon @impossibelle @sweet-chai-amore @myheartfollower @iimichie

@fightmedraco @nikkitch0703 @eerievixen @ang-taylorsversion

@randomness-it-is @thehighlordishere @rachelnicolee @hardcoremarvelfan @awkardnerd @sundayysunshine

@jpgtae @cheneyq @morganwdarius @latinxbipride @catharticlovewriter

@samslulumelon @mis-lil-red @rcarbo1 @celmentine111002

the crossed-out name means tumblr wouldn't let me tag you

[star-farer]

well met

Summary: Connections and clones; it takes only one to be family. AU: Imperial Taglist: @kybercrystals94 @fionas-frenzy @padawancat97 @margindoodles2407 @dreamsight73 @groguandthebadbatch @comfy-vember

Comfy-vember 2024, Day 19: Thick blankets — Sunset

“Hello.”

The voice, young and gentle, draws his eyes up away from the tiles beneath his feet. He looks over his shoulder to see a girl, bathed in the warm colors of the dying day, smiling at him kindly.

His brow quirks in question, but he finds it in himself to tilt the line of his lips. A spark brightens in her face, like a heating unit switching on. She steps forward, holding out something dusty blue and folded.

“It’s going to get pretty cold soon.”

He turns, reaching one trembling hand to feel the thick blanket, coarse against his fingers. The muscles on his face stretch awkwardly around his grin. “Thanks, kid.”

And her smile explodes like a star going supernova, full-fledged and shining bright with teeth. By the Ka’ra, he knows her cheeks must ache. He’s had the pleasure of grinning like that too.

With his vode. Who are all—

He breathes in. He breathes out.

There’s something heavy making itself known in the pit of his stomach. He doesn’t dare give it a name.

A warmth envelopes him, welcome as a hug. He raises his head with some surprise to see the girl slowly smoothing the blanket around his shoulders, a quiet look that makes her look too old for one so little.

When she catches him gazing at her, her lips turn crookedly in a manner too familiar to ignore. “I don’t like the cold either,” she tells him softly.

He can’t help the huff of laughter. Here he sits, a Clone Commander, exploited as a soldier, tortured as an experiment, rescued by his brothers and safe on some tropical haven of a planet, freshly de-chipped when he didn't even know about them a day ago.

And a kid is trying to make him feel better.

His heart warms to see the concern in her brown eyes, though. It's been far too long since he's been shown such kindness

“Don’t worry about me,” he reassures, careful to balance his best Commander-voice with his ori'vod-voice. He’s a little out of practice, but he thinks he does a good job of it.

She snorts — and a bolt strikes through him at how familiar it is. He racks his mind, even as she slings her legs over the ledge and sits down beside him, but comes up short of any explanation.

Crossing her arms, she mutters, not low enough to keep out of his hearing because she wants him to hear it, “That’s what you all say.”

He…honestly doesn’t know how to respond to that. He chews on words, responses, anything his mind could give him. The fact that she reminds him of…someone, doesn’t really help him either. So he turns back to the view in front of him.

Confusion keeps him silent as he watches the sun rest distorted on the horizon. The girl doesn’t speak either, her hands clasped together on her lap and her head tilted towards the crimson-gold swathing the sky and shimmering over the sea. From the corner of his eye, he sees her blond curls tumble down to hide her eyes along her temples.

Who is she?

A breeze brushes past, playing the leaves strewn on the grounds up into a rampant dance. She shifts, and—

He can’t believe he never saw this before. She’s wearing the same uniform as he does.

The uniform of a prisoner of Tantiss.

Who is she?

“You cold?”

He nearly smacks himself in the face for asking the very wrong question. He isn’t even the sort to go about questioning in circles — when he wants an answer, he gets straight to the point.

As he reprimands himself for it, the girl looks up at him with careful, considering eyes. There’s a deep complexity behind them, a hundred thoughts whirring.

He’s faced such similar scrutiny before, he’s seen eyes look at him like—

Eyes.

More specifically, a sniper’s eyes.

She smiles up at him, wide and warm, her head listing against one shoulder. “I’m fine, thanks.”

He blinks, once, twice, and pauses to really, really, look at her.

Blonde curls, brown skin, a perpetually smiling face.

He’s probably the biggest di’kut alive.

Some thought must show on his face, because her smile grows confused, her brows draw together, her nose wrinkles up, just like, well — how the kark had he missed it? — like that kriffing 99 kid he’d been stuck with on Barton IV.

“…Omega?”

She reels back with a sharp inhale, eyes wide like twinkling stars. “How do you know my name?”

And he laughs, a proper laugh from the depths of his heart, warm and full. He hasn’t laughed like this in a very long time. He's missed laughing as heartily as this.

“A certain buir of yours told me all about you,” he tells her, affection seeping into his tone with the knowledge that he’s looking at a vod’ika, strange though she seems.

“My—” she stares up at him with a flickering expression— “My buir?”

“Yeah,” he lilts, grinning wide, “’S name starts with a cresh, resh, osk…”

He nearly jolts for her dropping jaw out of fear it might fall right off her skull. “You know Crosshair?”

“I should. He saved my life.”

There’s that perplexed look again, scrunching up her nose in a way he dares to label adorable. “He never told me about anything like that.”

Honestly, he isn’t surprised. A little hurt, maybe. The way it hurts when a vod steals the last chocolate pudding cup. But he isn’t surprised

I’m gonna have to have a word with that boy, he thinks absentmindedly, scratching his beard, though a part of him is glad that he survived.

“Really?” he hums. “The audacity.”

The girl, Omega, giggles like a tiny cadet. “He is pretty audacious.”

He shrugs, draping the blanket around her shoulders with the movement. “Figured as much.”

Her laughter rings a little while longer when he grumbles out tales of being subject to the boy’s acerbic nature, making a point to keep it light and humorous for her sake. He’s always been good at regaling stories, old and new ones. He’d had to find a way to keep the spirits up in that desolate outpost after all.

When at last a lull falls between them, the sun only a sliver of gold as if the water kisses the air, she turns to him with a fond smile on her face.

“You never told me your name.”

Her tone is teasing, almost accusatory, and it feels like they’ve been old friends since time immemorial.

He chuckles as he ruffles her curls.

“Mayday, kid. The name’s Mayday.”

[livejournallegacy]

dunesdudesdancing.mp4

[raventhekittycat]

I know it's Ryousuke but I genuinely thought it was a woman there for a hot second

[arsenicflame]

well i think its finally time to open this box

[lonelyvomit]

.

[theclosetskeletons]

Something so compelling about Kiriona to me is that Gideon gets more than everything she ever dreamed of. She gets that long-lost powerful parent, all the riches and accolades the empire has to offer, a title in the cohort, if admittedly only an honorary one, and perhaps most significantly, a position in which she can prove herself useful. But the thing is, it doesn't feel good. She made it out of the nightmare that was Drearburh, she got a place on top of the world. But it's all wrong, it all feels bad and empty.

I'm really excited to see where this is going for her in Alecto. I think this part of her journey, awful as it is, is going to force her to confront how she sees the world and herself, particularly in how she only considers herself loveable as far as she is useful, something I'm sure John is exploiting to the extreme. I think we're not too far off from her having to totally reconsider how she views things, largely her father and his empire, and hopefully coming out the other side better for it

It's not missing Harrowhark that makes Kiriona the saddest girl in the world. Or at least, it's not just the lack of Harrow.

She fought all her life to escape the Ninth, fueled by the conviction that there was a better world waiting for her if she could just get out. As a kid, that was the fantasy of a super cool and important parent who could rescue her and punish the people who hurt her. Later, it was believing that as soon as she rescued herself, she would prove to everyone how awesome she was. She would make herself a hero, and she would be so valued and useful even Harrow would have to admit it.

Now she has every status symbol she ever yearned for, and none of it means anything. None of it feels good. She's escaped, and it turns out there was no better world waiting for her. Kindness is rare, and the people who show it die meaningless violent deaths. The rest of the universe has proved itself to be almost as cold and dark and isolating as the Ninth, filled with horrors she'd never imagined.

Kiriona Gaia is the saddest girl in the world because she's lost hope. She has everything she ever wanted, and it all sucks. So what is there left to want? What is there left to fight for? What is there left to live for?

[yanderenightmare]

TW: implied nsfw, implied noncon/dubcon, poly yanderes, sprained ankle, captive reader, apocolypse au, talk of fertility, murder of unnamed characters, mentions of potentially killing reader

fem reader

Just thinking about the apocalypse, the two army men who’ve long survived it in their shelter with barely any trouble, and then you, a poor girl trying hard to outrun your last captives only to run into them.  

You didn’t realize back then that it was like trading piranhas for sharks, too caught up in begging for their aid to think better of it. You should have just kept running, but your ankle was sprained badly, maybe even broken, and you were wearing so little you would most likely have died from the cold during the night if they hadn’t taken you in.

It seems unfair of them to have kept the giant bunker all to themselves, only the two of them, but you don’t judge. You would likely have kept it all to yourself as well.

This new world has bred new humans, and they’re all monsters. It’s honestly quite surprising they’d even let you in, given this is what they’re protecting, this sanctuary from the past, a comfort most people would kill their closest friend in exchange for.

Trust is all but dead, and so is honor or any other morality—you would know, you’ve lived out there for it all, only having survived by spreading your legs at the right moments. It’s a shameful tactic, and many times, you’ve wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to spare yourself and just die. What was the purpose?

This—you think. This must be it. They have showers and working hot water.

You don’t know how it’s possible—the original owners of the shelter must have been some type of millionaire. You haven’t had a warm shower since the world went to shit—years ago. It’s been a choice of waiting for rain or finding a lake, hoping it wasn’t rancid. Meanwhile, they have soap—scented soap, the lush kind you’d forgotten existed. It feels so nice you have to cry—rejoice—sobbing while lathering yourself, watching all the filth go down the drain, leaving you smooth-skinned once again for the first time in forever. You can’t remember having ever been so clean before, feeling reborn.

They have fresh clothes for you too—new socks and underwear, all clean fabrics, so much more than what you wore—pants, a shirt, and a sweater to keep warm. You didn’t know there still existed people who lived like the old days—you’d thought it was long gone, a bittersweet dream you sometimes have the pleasure of at night instead of the usual nightmares. Never had you thought you’d experience anything even remotely similar, but here you are—looking yourself in the mirror after so long, surprised to see a human looking back at you.

And they feed you. Not scraps, not leftovers, not rot, or days-old flesh from the last successful hunt—but freshly baked bread, vegetables, fruit—for fuck’s sake, they even have juice. You cry again while eating, and then you find yourself begging them again, “Please, let me stay—please, I’ll do anything. I can cook, clean, work—anything at all, I can do it, just please let me stay…”

You’re on your knees, forehead pressed to the heated metal floors—toasty and comforting, you think you could sleep better than ever right there.

“We’ll think about it,” one of them mutters as he gathers the plates. His voice was so harsh he might as well have said, not a chance. It’s clear by his frown that he’d rather send you right out again, leave you to the monsters.

“We’ll at least let you stay until your ankle heals, so don’t worry.” The other is more sympathetic, helping you up. “For now, let’s get you to bed. You must be exhausted.”

It hadn’t crossed your mind that they’d have beds—actual real soft downy mattresses and duvets and pillows. The two of you help make it together. It feels so foreign that you wonder if you might have died earlier. Some years back, you wouldn’t have thought heaven would resemble a prison cell, but now it only made sense—safe metal walls and a bed. What more could one possibly want in the world?

“I’ll wrap your leg for you if you sit.” He holds out a bandage roll, gesturing to your ankle.

Blinking, you can’t even register what he’d just offered until he’s getting down on his knees before you.

You panic, then. Bandages are hard to come by—it hardly seems worth it. “There’s no blood, you shouldn’t waste it—”

“It’ll heal better and faster this way,” he adds reassuringly. His voice is so soft and compelling that you find yourself sitting down without further quarrel, even when it makes you feel spoiled.

He’s gentle with you—holding you steady while wrapping it just tightly enough to be supportive. There hasn’t been a man who’s touched you like it.

“Does that feel okay?”

You can barely tell he’s talking to you. It’s all so lost on you that you can only wordlessly nod your head.

He fastens it just as carefully before standing. “Is there anything else you might need?”

You shake your head just as wordlessly. You can’t believe how nice he’s being. It makes no sense at all. Not in this world. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to lock the door,” he apologizes with a sheepish look once standing on the threshold.

You’d been stuck thinking about how warm the room was, trying to remember a single time you hadn’t been freezing during the night. “That’s okay, I understand,” you say. After all, what’s a locked door in comparison?

“Good,” he smiles—it’s likely the kindest smile you’ve ever seen. “Alright then, good night.”

Once again, you’re left stunned. The last time you’d heard those words spoken must have been from a loved one long since dead. It makes your lip wobble again as you say it back, “Good night.”

It's strange—they could have left you for dead but didn’t. They don’t seem gullible—they can’t be if they’ve managed to protect this place for so long—but you suppose there still exist men who have a soft spot in their hearts for helpless damsels in distress.

As you sink into the comfort, draping your duvet atop your battered body, you don’t even care about the camera in the ceiling—blinking red while watching you.

“Did you have to bandage her up?” he grumbles as the other walks into the bedroom after having said his goodnights to you. 

He’s already in bed, observing through the cameras on a tablet—you were currently curling into the duvet, wrapping it around you close for comfort. You’d likely not slept on anything so soft in a while—it wouldn’t surprise him if you preferred the floor. But no, you drift asleep quite quickly.

“You know how badly things can heal without proper support,” the other answers, regarding it as no big deal. “And besides, it’s not like we often need it—we have plenty to spare.”

He removes his clothes and crawls onto the bed as well, lifting the covers to slot himself right next to the other man, who still has a scowl on his face.

“Oh, come on…” he drawls. “She’s exactly what we’ve been talking about, isn’t she?”

The grump doesn’t answer, still with keen eyes watching you, even as you’ve fallen asleep—as if waiting for you to do something befitting a wild animal in a cage. The other’s eyes fall to the screen as well, but he only awes in delight.

“Look at her, already fast asleep,” he purrs while zooming in on your face. “I mean, did you see how she was begging earlier, what she said? I’d do anything,” he continues, almost whining. “So cute, I could have fucked her right then and there.”

The other man sets the tablet aside with a disagreeing sigh. “We’ll wait at least a week for her system to detoxify from the wasteland,” he says strictly. “I’m not touching her before then, and neither are you unless you want to sleep alone.”

The other groans then, flopping down on his back. “Yeah, yeah, you and your safety protocols,” he dismisses before a smirk creeps up his face, glee twinkling in his eyes as he looks up at his grouchy counterpart. “But then we keep her, right?”

“Tch—we don’t even know if she’s fertile. The wasteland could have made her barren as long as she’s been out there,” the other shuffles down into the sheets as well, turning to look at his partner and the awfully keen look on his face.

“So we test her. Give her a medical check,” he says, again as if it’s not a problem, even when it very well could turn out to be.

They’ve already broken quarantine rules by letting you in here—and who knows what your real objectives truly are.

“I don’t trust her,” he states.

The other pouts. “I don’t see what one little lady can do—she’s hardly a threat. And we already purged the group that was following her. I doubt any of them made it out alive.”

True, he had gone out and sent several gas grenades into the settlement. Surely, none of them managed to escape, but then again—

“Pest control only works when you kill them all, and we’ve just let one inside our own house,” he grumbles.

The other one sighs. “Okay, so if it turns out she isn’t as cute as she looks, we’ll deal with her like the rest. But if I’m right, and she really is just a harmless little thing, we keep her, and I get to have the first go.”

Suppose there isn’t anything better to do aside from killing you straight away, which would only have been a waste of food, water, clothes, and bandages. 

“Fine.”

The other grins at the agreeance, humming, “I guess until then, we’ll just have to make do with each other—I've been hard since we watched her shower.” He leans forward for contact but is shut down as his bedmate rolls around with his back turned to him.

“Tch—take care of it yourself.” Tonight has been too stressful to tug each other’s dicks. 

He can hear him whine behind him, but he settles down soon enough.

Suppose it would be nice fucking a woman again. It’s been so many years he figured he wouldn’t need it anymore. They’ve made do with each other so far. But even he can’t deny, once you’d washed all the blood and muck off, once he saw the dewy hue of your soft skin and the silk of your hair, all those plush curves, and not to mention that awfully sweet look on your face—he felt the tug in his pants too.

He'll do a medical check on you tomorrow. He hopes you’re fertile. But even if you’re not, he might give in to the other’s wishes and keep you anyway. After all, they might have many luxuries, but the comfort of pussy is one they haven’t had in a long, long, long time.

♡ BNHA – KiriBaku, BakuDeku, ShinKami, DabiHawks, EndHawks, ErasurMic ♡ JJK – SatoSugu, ItaFushi, SukuIta, ♡ HQ – Miya twins, KageHina, BokuAka, ♡ CSM – AkiDen, YoshiDen ♡ BLLK – NagiReo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[xxsabitoxx]

How JJK Men Eat Pussy 2.0

Satoru, Suguru, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna, Yuta, Itadori, Megumi

Warnings: All characters are 18+, this post is explicit smut. As if you couldn’t tell that from the title

A/N: Funny story, I forgot I already wrote this same concept last year… but since I didn’t realize until I finished writing this… imma post it anyways. But if you’d like to see my original thoughts on this topic, you can see them here with an additional 2 characters lol

Gojo Satoru

He is relentless, especially when he’s in the mood to go down on you. These little moods of his will have him between your legs for hours, multiple times a day. You always like to joke that he knows when you’re ovulating because somehow these little moods seem to fall in sync. If Satoru goes more than three days without you, it’s like he’s going through withdrawals. He’s skilled with his tongue, he’s able to move it in ways and speeds you didn’t know a man could. Typically he’s a tease, he’ll edge you until you have an orgasm so pathetic you can’t even call it one. Ya know, the kinds where you come and don’t feel that satisfaction, just the pulsating ache of needing more. But recently, Satoru discovered how much more fun it is to overstimulate you. He loves the way your finger’s bury in his hair and try to tug him off as he sucks on your clit until you’re sobbing and begging him to ease up. He’ll keep your thighs spread wide, large hands effortlessly keeping them in place while they desperately try and close. He’s also the type to see those “pineapple make’s your cum sweet” articles and come home with enough pineapples to feed a village. He’s not even embarrassed about his reasoning, even if it’s just a myth, his sweet tooth can’t pass up the opportunity. Satoru loves your natural taste, but you surprised him with edible lubes in various fruity and sweet flavors one night… you still recall seeing the sun rise. 

Geto Suguru

He’s a god at eating pussy and you can’t convince me otherwise. Suguru has always been about your pleasure over his, not to say he doesn’t have his selfish moments, but your pleasure is just so much fun to him. He loves the noise, the facial expressions, the smell, the taste. The first time he went down on you, you were convinced he was lying about it being his first time. The ability just came naturally to Suguru. Like Satoru, Suguru loves to tease you. He’ll focus all of his attention on your dripping entrance, only stimulating your clit if his nose bumps it. He loves the way you squirm, his nails leaving crescent shaped nail marks in the plump flesh of your thighs as he holds you in place. He loves your breathless gasps, his long hair tickling your thighs as he eats you out, only adding to the stimulation that’s making your toes curl. Suguru loves to make you beg, pulling his mouth away from your cunt to just barely flick his tongue over your clit. He’ll stop all together just to taunt you until you’re sobbing, begging him to do something. He has a whole album on his phone dedicated to you, most of the content being videos of him eating you out, some he even made you take just so he could see the camera shake with your effort to keep it straight and hear your noises better. He puts on a show for you, slurping and sucking and moaning just to feel your thighs tremble as you moan with him. 

Nanami Kento

Eating you out is a stress reliever for Nanami… so it happens like very fucking day. Lord help me this man will spend hours edging you, cheek pressed into your thigh as he lazily licks and nips at your cunt. He can’t think about anything but you when he is between our legs, moaning and whining his name like a beautiful lullaby. He’ll let you cum eventually, but for the time being you are completely at his mercy. Nanami is the type to wake you up with his head between your legs, especially on nights where he comes home late and you’re already passed out in bed. He’ll make out with your cunt honestly, licking and sucking and nipping at your folds until he can’t tell if you’re wet from his saliva or your own arousal. The answer is both. He doesn’t care for any of the fancy shit, so don’t bother with flavored lubes or eating particular fruits to try and alter your taste, he just wants you and you alone. I feel like this man has a scent kink so the smell of your arousal honestly gets him going even more. He prefers eating you out in bed, mostly because he’s tired and nothing feels better to him than laying on his plush mattress while using your thighs as his pillow. He’s a whore for face sitting by the way, even less of his energy needs to be put into  that, especially when you’re grinding your cunt against his tongue. Nanami’s other favorite thing to do is use his tie to bind your wrists, that way you really can’t interrupt him.

Fushiguro Toji

I had to restart Toji’s so many times because I got too aggressive. Listen, this bummy ass bitch will eat you out till the sunrises and he will make a fucking mess of you while he does it. Toji will eat you out and finger fuck you until you’re screaming. He’ll give you a “break” by stuffing you full with his dick and then get back to work eating you out again after he blew his load in you. Filthy bitch. He’ll eat you out anytime, anywhere, any position. He’ll never turn down the opportunity and depending on your relationship with him, this bitch may even charge you for his services. Which is just another way he likes to tease you, watching you whine and squirm while you cough up the money he wants. He’ll call you pathetic as he gets on his knees and basically rips your underwear off of you, commenting the whole time about how much of a whore you are… like he ain’t selling his body to you rn. This man will somehow make you feel inferior, but you can’t be bothered when his tongue is lapping at your cunt like a starved man. Toji will make sure your thighs and your cunt are swollen, bruised, overstimulated, and sore by the time he’s done with you. Your cunt is puffy from his sucking and biting, thighs littered in dark marks and teeth indents. He'd go as far as to find a marker and write “cum dumpster” on you if he was really in the mood to see you sob.

Ryomen Sukuna

Listen, you thought Toji could be mean? Sukuna is ten times worse. The thing is, the king of curses actually likes to eat pussy but he won’t admit it. But that is not to say he can’t live without it, Sukuna is selfish and really only prefers things that pleasure him in the process. But, when you’re sobbing, pathetically begging him to go down on you, he may just crack. Especially if you’re looking at him with watery eyes, swollen lips from sucking him off, your neck littered with bite marks and bruises. Oh, and, if you’ve made him cum, he’s more likely to agree and indulge you. If you manage to convince the king of curses to go down on you, don’t expect him to be easy on you. His nails are digging into the flesh of your thighs, blood dripping slowly as he eats you out with so much force it’s borderline painful. He’s using his tongue and his teeth, nipping at your folds and even grazing your clit with them until he can tell your sobs are a breathless mix of pleasure and pain. If we’re talking true form Sukuna, I promise you he won’t stop until you’ve blacked out. He’ll use one set of arms to hold your waist while the other set keeps your thighs spread. He’s forcefully dragging your cunt over the long tongue that protrudes from his stomach, occasionally stopping just to hold you still as he spreads you open and stuffs you with the same tongue, watching you yelp and moan as he toys with you. 

Okkotsu Yuta

If you look up the definition of “pussy drunk” you’ll see a picture of Yuta. This man cannot go down on you without becoming delirious. Your body puts him in a trance, he can’t even explain the way you make him feel. Yuta is all about body worship and his favorite way to go about it is having his face shoved between your legs for hours. He’s just as vocal as you are while he eats you out, groaning and whining against your cunt until the vibrations are making your eyes roll back as you cum again. He’ll be kneading your thighs as he eats, squeezing them like stress balls and hitting nerves that send sparks of electricity all the way to your toes and all the way up to the base of your neck. Without even trying, Yuta will manage to overstimulate you until you’re unironically going cross-eyed, fingers twitching as they bury in his hair and try to pull him off so you can catch your breath. Yuta is still a bit shy when it comes to being intimate outside of the privacy of your home. But that doesn’t mean he won’t drag you into the nearest bathroom and eat you out against the bathroom stall. In this sense, he’s almost cocky when someone unknowingly enters the bathroom only to see two sets of feet in one of the stalls. Not to mention the noises are echoing. Yuta lives to see your eyes going wide from embarrassment as he doesn’t stop, your noises are uncontrollable as he tongue fucks you. The poor bastard who entered the bathroom with the intention of properly using it just muttered under their breath and walked out.

Itadori Yuji

Yuji is eager, so, so damn eager. He wants to do anything and everything that brings you pleasure so when it comes to eating you out, he’s determined to be great at it. Yuji is the type to ask you for “practice” or “lessons” which is just his way of indirectly asking if he can eat you out. Most of the time, it’s an offer you can’t refuse, because as fate would have it, Yuji isn’t bad at anything. He’s so praise focused, eyes glued to your face as he flicks his tongue along your folds and waits for you to tell him he’s doing good. He’ll slow down when your praise isn’t coming fast enough because he wants you to beg. Yuji is a sucker for adding fingers to the mix, as much as he loves making you cum with just his tongue, he sees no point in limiting your pleasure for his own confidence boost. Kind of contradictory since he likes when you beg. Yuji is also the type to wake you up with his head between your legs, just slowly lapping at your cunt while also rutting his hips into the mattress, trying to not wake you up until you’re coming. He finds it so pretty when you wake up gasping, completely unable to restrict any of your noises as you orgasm. It’s important to mention that Yuji is a sucker for 69-ing and face sitting, he loves, loves, feeling your plush thighs caging in his head. He can’t get enough of the way your body settles so nicely into him, no longer afraid of “suffocating him” by sitting all the way down on him.

Fushiguro Megumi

He won’t admit it but he loves to eat you out. Megumi is shy at heart so even if he’s been with you for years, he can still get embarrassed when telling you how badly he wants to go down on you. He’s focused when he does get between your legs, hands gripping your thighs or hips while his tongue laps greedily at your cunt. Megumi loves to tongue fuck you, just because he knows it’s not enough stimulation to make you cum but enough to make you embarrassingly wet. He’s a bit mean at first, not willing to let you come until he feels you’ve earned it. He’ll stop abruptly just to sink his teeth into your inner thighs, not stopping until you’re gasping as the pain turns bruising. He’ll admire the teeth indents he’s left on your skin while his nails are scratching down your other thigh, tongue moving to wiggle against your clit until your hips are bucking. Megumi finds toys to be very hit or miss, but he’s found a love for stuffing you with a vibrator while putting all of his attention on your clit. Megumi’s preferred method of “torture” depends on his mood, either he’ll edge you until you’re begging or overstimulate you until you’re crying. He’s very private when it comes to these things… unless he’s jealous. Much like Yuta, he will not hesitate to drag you somewhere private while out in public to remind you of who you belong to. 

[dead-boys-club]

†  a seat : the fatui.

❥ scenario: their s/o decides to take up residence on their lap --- during a meeting. ❥ no triggers ❥ i don't have any beta readers - you get what you get. ❥ requested.

❥ la signora.

she wouldn't give much of a reaction, her eyebrow raising and a barely noticeable hint of amusement to her gaze. open affection isn't something she's keen to show, especially in a professional setting but she wouldn't make you move. if anything, she would just shift in her spot and adjust her posture to make sure you were comfortable, though her movements wouldn't be big enough to draw attention. she would enjoy your closeness but would remain as cold and composed as always. after the meeting is a different story. while she may not show too much emotion, she wouldn't try to hide the smirk as she approached you. 'you certainly know how to make a statement, don't you, darling?' she asked, reaching out to gently tip your chin up with her pointer finger, 'don't think you can distract me so easily.. you'll have to do better than that.' there was a clear affection and appreciation in her gaze, despite the words, honestly enjoying your boldness.

❥ scaramouche.

at first, he genuinely wouldn't even know how to respond, frozen for a split second before brushing it off, not wanting anyone to notice. he'd look at you, eyes flickering as if looking for an answer to your sudden actions. scara isn't one for such open displays of affection, or any at all, especially in such a formal setting - he would fight between irritation and silent, frustrated acceptance; he didn't want to cause a scene. 'what do you think you're doing?' he would hiss under his breath, leaning close to your ear, enough though he wasn't actually trying to remove you. he would be annoyed for the duration of the meeting, though just accepting your bold statement that he, quite honestly, didn't understand. oh boy, he'd be so fast to corner you, arms crossed and staring you down. 'what was that all about?' he demanded, though something was off - his tone didn't hold the same hate soaked bite it usually did; even his s/o had to deal with that. you could see the ghost of a blush on his features but you knew he'd never admit to being embarrassed. 'you're lucky no one said anything,' he muttered, the tiniest hint of softness forming in his gaze. he wasn't as upset as he wanted to seem.

❥ childe.

it shouldn't come as a surprise that he would be the most openly and unashamedly amused, of course, having no complaints. as soon as you took your place, a grin would form and he'd offer your head a soft nudge with his nose. 'comfortable?' he'd ask in a whisper, teasing as always but still loving. his arms found their own place around you, keeping you close. to childe, holding onto you came easy, automatically knowing how to shift so you were comfortable. he wouldn't be concerned a single bit about the others, the glances only making him grin further. he enjoyed showing off the relationship you had. he'd be pretty excited once the meeting ended, the grin never leaving his features, though softening into a smile once he approached you. 'you made it pretty hard for me to concentrate in there.. that was an important meeting,' he teased, arms wrapping around you once more to pull you closer; if you were honest, neither of you had heard a single word that was said. 'i'm not complaining, though,' he'd chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. he was just happy to have someone who was so open to show him affection.

❥ dottore.

as annoyed as he'd be, he'd also be curious. were you testing him? were you crazy? had you.. taken something? he'd really be at a loss, especially as someone who wasn't exactly one for public displays of affection - meeting or otherwise. he would view your actions as a distraction and wonder just what kind of statement you were trying to make. 'this better be worth the interruption,' he muttered, adjusting his posture to accommodate you, shifting his focus back to the meeting. he would occasionally glance to you, jaw clenching as he tried figuring you out. once the meeting was over and you dismissed yourself, only to be closely followed by him. 'what exactly were you trying to achieve?' he asked, hand taking hold of your jaw to lift your head, though his touch wasn't as rough as you expected it to be. you only blinked and shook your head. there was a shift to his usual demeanor, something a little softer, letting you know he wasn't as displeased as you thought. 'you should know better than to disrupt my focus,' he added, leaning closer to you, eyes searching your own, 'you truly are a strange little creature..'

❥ arlecchino.

she would spare you a glance, expression unreadable as it always was. you taking a place on her lap wouldn't cause even the slightest of budge to her composed nature - you would have to do a lot more for that to happen. she does, however, rest a possessive hand on your hip, making sure to keep you close. there would be no open acknowledgement of your actions but she would make sure you were comfortable, attention never leaving the meeting. all you really needed though were her actions; the quiet protectiveness, even in such a formal place. once the meeting ended, you wouldn't be leaving your spot, held steady by her. she would wait for everyone to leave before speaking, 'that was quite bold,' she spoke quietly, a hint of approval to her tone, 'but you should know others may not be so understanding.' as she spoke, she got closer to your ear, offering your hip a gentle squeeze. arle knew very well how to stake her claim and the last thing she needed was for someone to misunderstand your easy show of affection.

❥ columbina.

like childe, she would have no issues with your gesture, even allowed a soft smile to grace her features. the two of you were known to play your little games and would see this as a simple, easy thing on your part. there would be no words but a soft hum of acknowledgement in the back of her throat. columbina would have no concerns when it came to the others, her attention easily balanced between the meeting and your presence. as she listened, she may let her arms loosely rest around you, head resting on your shoulder. once the meeting ended, she'd just tilt her head to nose gently at your shoulder. 'could you not have waited until after the meeting?' she mused, tone light. she wasn't one to make a big deal of anything, being considerably nonchalant about most things, brushing them off. 'next time, let's save the affection for when we're alone, yes?' she wasn't upset or bothered at all, she enjoyed the question affection, but she preferred keeping gentle, intimate moments to be in the privacy of your rooms.

❥ pantalone.

being the master of maintaining appearances, it came as no surprise that panta would remain composed, his expression calm and pleasant. not many things managed to crack his image, even you and your risky gestures. he continued to participate in the meeting with ease, a hand sliding to settle at your lower back, pulling you closer. 'how reckless of you,' he whispered, the brief show of a smirk evident against the shell of your ear, tone amused. he would enjoy the moment, all while keeping up his perfect little facade. there would be an amused glint to his eyes as he approached you after saying his farewell to the others. 'you realize the kind of attention such actions might draw, don't you?' he questioned, his tone giving no indication of being upset or annoyed with you. 'not that i mind, of course.. it certainly keeps things interesting.' panta was aways aware of appearances and his surroundings, as well as those around him. he would never openly express displeasure with your affection to him, but he'd make sure you understood. 'just be careful, my love.. not everyone will be as forgiving.'

❥ il capitano.

words are not something capitano needs to use often, his imposing presence often speaking for him. even with a mask on, his expression wouldn't change as you silently settled onto his lap - he also knew no one else would make the mistake of saying something to him about it. he wouldn't push you away or show signs of disapproval, he would actually rest a hand on your side, adjusting to accommodate you. he isn't one for grand gestures or openly displaying affection and his hold on you simply sat as a protective claim, however, him allowing you to keep your place during such a time would speak volumes of the trust he shares with you. he would continue as if you'd always been there, his grip on you tightening and loosening upon the subject shifts of the meeting. you didn't bother to move when the meeting ended, knowing he wouldn't let you slip away so easily. once everyone was gone, he spoke, tone low and calm. 'what was all this for?' he asked, though no annoyance or accusation to his words. he was genuinely asking. you knew a head shake wasn't exactly an answer but he accepted it, watching you closely. 'just be mindful of the setting next time,' he commented, this time soft yet firm, letting you knew the actions weren't unwanted but the timing wasn't proper. he was considerably reserved in nature but he appreciated your little moments of affection.