#i actually this is what they mean by God's plan

[leidensygdom]

Okay, we all know about the usual warlock-patron dynamics. Creature with god-like powers tries to do their bidding or further their plans through a mortal, who is often going to be troubled by the pact. But, I'm here to propose some alternatives, specially for warlock deals that aren't inherently very harmful to the warlock themself:

This one is pretty typical, but the patron is a family member. If sorcerers can get cool powers from having a dragon grandpa, your fire genasi can have an auntie who is a big fire elemental who is trying VERY hard to connect with her family now, so she gives her nephew an allowance in the form of a Genie Pact

Your patron is undead (and your pact is Undying), but this person is not some power-hungry lich. This is someone you knew in life: A friend, or perhaps a partner. You had fought for a common cause, and they met their death trying to see the end of it, but they refused to leave you alone. Now, within you, their stubbornness has kept them from moving on, and they lend their newfound powers to help you in your common cause.

It's an eldritch entity, a creature beyond your comprehension. Your pact is that of a Great Old One. However, this creature doesn't quite have very concise plans to bring the end of the world- You're actually pretty sure it isn't even from your world. As time goes on, and as you realize their whims seem erratic, you realize that this thing you get powers from is... Probably the cosmic equivalent of a child. Maybe it's still cocooning in the depths of a distant dying planet. And it's incredibly bored. Someday, maybe, they'll terrorize the universe, but right now, they just really want you to be their eyes on another world. Call it enrichment.

Okay, this one is a fiend. Unequivocally so. But truthfully, they couldn't care less about your world, and you're not particularly concerned about what is going down in theirs. They kinda need few things done in your plane, few resources gathered, some people talked to, and between the lines, you realize that your newfound... ally is actually trying to oppose their boss or whatever. This one is a deeply legal-minded fiend, as far as you know: The hellish equivalent to a bureaucrat, after really digging around. Your party is convinced they will turn on you sometime, but eventually you realize you're just helping something that, for a lack of a better word, has to be an infernal-equivalent of an union effort.

That sword you picked was definitely cursed, and the voice within it has been calling to you. Eventually, you lend them your ear, and now you have an Hexblade pact. But this creature isn't bloodthirsty, nor talking to you about soaking their blade with your foes' guts. Truthfully, they hate being a sword. Trapped there as part of a vengeance, perhaps, this thing longs for freedom. And it has been used for evil in the past- Maybe the overabundance of skull motifs in their physical vessel didn't help. But this creature just wants to be able to experience a life that has been robbed from them. Your party may raise an eyebrow at you getting friendly with the possibly-malignant sword, but y'all are just making plans to get them to your favourite restaurant once they're freed.

This Archfey is the descendant of a powerful entity in Feywild side of things. The heir of some great lineage, or whatever is going on within their realm. You frankly don't know, because they're a bit of a... brat. One that kinda longs to escape their situation and get to live something more normal. You only find out this over time, when you realize you're kinda that friend their parents frown about. This entity, powerful beyond comprehension, just really wants to hang out with you and have a board game night with you. They'd love to meet your besties-- I mean, your world-saving allies. And you'd love to give them the opportunity someday, truth be told, but pissing off a fey court seems to be a high price.

You got stranded far into the ocean as a kid, and the rest of the people involved in the shipwreck did not make it out. But you attracted the attention of a group of merfolk, who had barely ever had the chance to meet someone like you. People had told you tales of how they'd drown and eat anyone coming into their territory, but these creatures were instead cooing about you. You're now grown up, and you can call them for power. Your party frowns at the idea of "I kinda got adopted by a sea polycule and I got a cantrip and few other boons about it", but you know they'll have to eat their words when you bring them for dinner- If you can find a way to table them in the middle of the ocean, that is.

the celestial patron is still a dick tho

Feel free to add onto these if you'd like, I'd love to hear concepts >:3

[kashverse]

I love your drabbles!!

What about nanami preparing to confess to us?

i wrote this with teacher! nanami x teacher! reader in mind :)

you never in a million years thought the nanami from the class next door would like you.

sure, you had an undeniably stupid crush on him—the kind that made you stare too long when he rolled his sleeves up, or made your brain short-circuit when he adjusted his tie with those his hands. but he was nanami. effortlessly cool, the most responsible adult in the building, the man whose serious expression could make a room full of five-year-olds sit up straight. he was way out of your league. so when he pulled you aside in the middle of the kindergarten hallway—two fully grown adults wearing aprons with cartoon animals on them—and said, "i like you," your brain malfunctioned.

“oh, uh, you like—what, my new markers? yeah, they’re pretty great, got them on sale, actually. or wait—did you mean you like my lesson plan from this morning? yeah, the pigeon thing was a hit, huh? unless—oh god, you meant my classroom decor, didn’t you? listen, the rainbow border was a choice but—”

“i like you.”

“right, so when you say ‘like,’ do you mean as in friendly coworker appreciation, or like as in—like my handwriting? because i know it’s neat, but—”

“i like you.”

you opened your mouth. closed it. opened it again. nanami sighed, then—he took your hands. your hands. in his hands. like it was nothing. like it was normal.

and he was blushing. cheeks dusty pink, a ridiculous contrast to his sharp blonde hair and the completely straight-faced delivery of his confession.

meanwhile, your entire nervous system short-circuited. the world blurred for a second—just you, standing there, trying to process what was happening—until a piercing shriek shattered the moment.

“OH MY GOSH, MR. NANAMI IS HOLDING MS. Y/N LIKE A PRINCE!”

followed by more shrieks. the tiny, high-pitched chaos of your entire class losing their minds.

you turned your head in slow, mechanical horror to see dozens of little faces pressed up against the glass door, hands smushed against it, their muffled cheers breaking through the barrier. nanami’s class, having witnessed the commotion, joined in. soon, the whole hallway was filled with kindergarteners chanting ‘KISS! KISS! KISS!’ like a cult.

nanami let out the heaviest sigh of his life. “i should have picked a better place for this,” he muttered.

“you think?!” you whisper-hissed, face now hotter than the sun.

he squeezed your hands. seriously. earnestly. like he meant it. like he meant all of it.

the chanting only got louder. the kids were now banging on the glass.

“so…” you swallowed, eyes darting around. “wanna run?”

nanami nodded.

you ran.

[cece693]

He's Cute

pairing: bucky barnes x male reader tags: you're Loki's brother, but actually nice and come in peace, bucky finds you adorable, humor, asking out a prince from another planet is hard, just ask bucky, part 2 can be done

Tony tapped his fingers on the conference table, wearing his best ‘well, here we go again’ scowl. In front of him, the Avengers were assembled, all shooting wary glances at Thor. “So,” Tony drawled, making sure to emphasize his skepticism, “we’re hosting another Asgardian prince. Is your father just collecting them at this point?”

Thor, doing his best not to look offended, cleared his throat. “I know you hold distrust after what Loki did, but (Y/N) is our younger brother. He’s quite the opposite from Loki.”

Clint quirked a brow, exchanging a glance with Sam. “‘Opposite’ how? Less shape-shifting and more interpretive dance, or…?”

Sam snorted. “I’d pay to see that, actually.”

Thor, for his part, stood straight-backed, looking earnest—and maybe just a little bit offended. “I assure you, (Y/N) is not here to conquer anything,” he reiterated. “My brother is gentle. He's nothing like our brother Loki."

Tony drummed his fingers on the table one more time. “Yeah, we’ll see. Might I suggest we have a ‘No Asgardian Shenanigans’ sign at the front door? We can hang it right under the ‘No Solicitors’ sign.”

“That might be a tad welcoming, don’t you think?” Clint drawled, lips curling in a wry grin.

Sam chuckled. “No illusions allowed, no staff-wielding illusions, no illusions about illusions.”

Bucky glanced around. They were all bantering, but he could sense the undercurrent of nervous energy. Finally, Steve caught his eye and nodded, inviting him to speak up if he wanted. But Bucky just gave a small shrug—he didn’t really have an opinion yet, beyond thinking that maybe it would be nice to have another level-headed god around. He’d heard Loki was a piece of work, but Thor—despite his bombast—had proven a decent ally.

“Well, guess we’ll know soon enough,” Nat said, pulling everyone’s attention back to her. She tapped her phone, checking the time. “Thor? When’s your supposed to show up?”

Thor’s chest swelled with pride, as though merely announcing your name was akin to proclaiming victory over the Nine Realms. “He will arrive today—shortly, in fact. Heimdall has secured him safe passage. I ask for your patience, my friends. He is not…accustomed to Earth.”

“Oh, this ought to be fun,” Tony said, pushing back from the table. “Alright. Everyone, let’s roll out the welcome mat. And by ‘welcome mat,’ I obviously mean ‘a healthy dose of skepticism laced with potential backup plans A through Z.’ Clint, let’s find a vantage point—”

“Tony,” Steve interrupted, sounding exasperated. “He’s Thor’s brother, not a Hydra spy.”

Tony shrugged. “Better safe than sorry. Or have we collectively forgotten the Chitauri fiasco?”

Thor let out a deep, put-upon sigh, and Bucky caught the flicker of guilt in the god’s eyes. Clearly, Thor was sensitive about all that had happened with Loki. Which in turn made Bucky feel a little guilty for automatically being wary.

About an hour later, the Avengers had dispersed, though most lingered in the main atrium of the Compound. Bucky hung back near a wall, arms folded, scanning his surroundings with a soldier’s vigilance. He had no idea what to expect. A second Loki? Another six-foot-something, muscle-bound, hammer-wielding Asgardian?

The air crackled with energy, and suddenly, a swirl of rainbow light appeared at the center of the room—a mini Bifrost. Out of it stepped you.

Your entrance was about as dramatic as one could expect from a swirling cosmic rainbow, but you looked anything but menacing. Clad in simple Asgardian attire (far less extravagant than Thor’s usual gear), you blinked, adjusting to the Earthly surroundings and then you bowed—actually bowed—deeply and respectfully.

“Good day,” you greeted softly, your voice gentler than any of them expected. “I am (Y/N) of Asgard. It's an honor to meet the team that has accepted my brother Thor with open arms. I know you might be wary of me with all that has transpired with Loki, but know that I deeply apologize for any problems he...” You paused, searching for a polite way to phrase it, eventually settling with, “…might have caused.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “‘Might have caused?’ Yeah, that’s one way to put an alien invasion.” He exchanged a look with Clint, who shrugged.

“(Y/N) is different,” Thor explained, laying a large hand on your shoulder with a brotherly sort of pride. “He will not attempt subterfuge or illusions.”

Bucky, observing quietly from his corner, noticed how you half-cringed at the mention of illusions, as if even the word brought you guilt by association. You glanced around at the assembled heroes: Tony with his pointed skepticism, Nat’s arms folded in careful assessment, Steve’s polite-but-guarded kindness. Even Sam gave you a sidelong look that said he wasn’t entirely sure he believed in second Asgardian princes yet. Only Thor, unwavering in his faith, and Bruce, gently curious, seemed at ease.

Clearing your throat, you continued, “I truly want to learn of your customs and help in any way I can.” Your voice quieted further. “I understand if my presence here makes you uncomfortable. You have already faced so much.”

Natasha eyed you, the corners of her mouth lifting in the faintest of smiles. “Well, you’re certainly more polite than your brothers,” she said, glancing at Thor pointedly.

“That’s not difficult,” Clint muttered, earning a huff from Thor.

Bucky only half-listened to the exchange; he was more focused on the shy curve of your posture—how you carried yourself with a subtle humility that was so unlike Thor’s boisterous confidence or Loki’s cunning. He realized then he was staring, so he forced himself to look away, crossing his arms over his chest to maintain some semblance of aloofness.

Steve, ever the one to break awkward silences, stepped forward to shake your hand. “We appreciate your honesty, (Y/N). I’m Steve Rogers. I promise no one here means you harm,” he said in a reassuring tone.

You took his hand carefully, as if unaccustomed to the formality. “Nice to meet you, Captain Rogers.” A flicker of surprise crossed your face as you felt the firmness of his handshake. “Your grip could rival Thor’s,” you murmured, almost impressed. Thor puffed up, beaming that you’d complimented one of his comrades.

Sam spoke up next, his voice colored with curiosity. “So, no illusions, no plans of world domination…I’m guessing you’re the ‘normal’ one in the family?”

You seemed flustered, but your lips quirked in an embarrassed smile. “I—I wouldn’t quite say that. But I have always strived for peace.”

Tony waved a hand. “Alright, Peace Prince, welcome aboard. We’ll see how it goes. Just don’t conjure up any giant space whales or open any more cosmic portals in the middle of Manhattan, deal?”

Thor looked positively mortified that Tony would even imply such a thing, but you only nodded politely. “Yes, sir. No space whales. I can assure you of that.”

At the “sir,” Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I like you. Please continue to address me as ‘sir’ in front of the others.”

Nat rolled her eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”

Thor cleared his throat, trying to steer the conversation back to calmer waters. “(Y/N) will be staying with us for a time—learning Earth’s ways. Please, treat him as you would me.”

“So we haze him with endless pop culture references and toss him in the deep end?” Sam joked.

Bucky saw you swallow hard, and something about your shy, uncertain expression tugged at his chest. Without meaning to, he spoke up for the first time in the meeting. “I’ll help,” he said bluntly.

Everyone turned to look at him, surprise etched on their faces—especially Steve, who arched an eyebrow as if to say, Didn’t know you were volunteering, pal. You brightened, relief shining in your eyes. “That is very kind of you. Thank you, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Just…Bucky,” he mumbled, cheeks warming the tiniest bit.

Natasha’s keen eyes flickered between the two of you, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “Great,” she said lightly. “Now that we’re all introduced, who wants lunch?”

Over the next few days, you integrated yourself into Avengers life with unexpected ease. You asked Tony endless questions about Earth technology, took great care to help Bruce reorganize his lab (after you discovered you had a knack for meticulously alphabetizing everything from chemicals to coffee mugs), and politely sparred with Natasha, who grudgingly admitted you were surprisingly tough yet considerate.

Meanwhile, Bucky quietly observed you. He watched you cheerfully fix up the lounge furniture after Thor accidentally broke a coffee table. He saw you carefully water the potted plants in the hallway, eager to ensure none of Earth’s “fragile vegetation” withered on your watch. Little by little, Bucky found himself drawn to your presence—drawn to your soft laughter, your bright curiosity.

But one thing stood out above all else: you never once bragged about your title. You never boasted about your Asgardian heritage or demanded special treatment. You even seemed embarrassed whenever anyone called you ‘Prince (Y/N).’ Instead, you were humble—sometimes painfully so. And that humility, combined with that sweet, open-minded wonder, made Bucky’s heart do somersaults he hadn’t felt in years.

Bucky sat in the compound’s lounge one afternoon, pretending to read a newspaper while sneaking glances your way. You were studying a half-eaten bag of potato chips like they were the eighth wonder of the world.

“Steve,” Bucky murmured, beckoning his friend closer.

Steve, doing his best to hide an amused smile, leaned in. “What’s up?”

Bucky tilted the newspaper so Steve could see you turning the potato-chip bag upside down, letting crumbs tumble out onto your hand. “He’s cute,” Bucky muttered under his breath, so quietly it nearly dissolved into air.

“…Should I act surprised? It was obvious from the moment you volunteered to show him around the tower,” Steve finished, his voice just as low. He flicked his gaze from Bucky to you and back again, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Bucky rolled his eyes but couldn’t quite hide the hint of pink that dusted his cheeks. “I’m trying to be subtle, all right?”

Steve snorted. “That’s rich coming from the guy who’s sneaking glances every ten seconds.”

Bucky’s gaze drifted again to you—now tapping the bottom of the potato chip bag in an effort to extract the last crumb. The entire display was so earnestly adorable that Bucky had to bite back a smile. “Look,” Bucky sighed, voice dropping lower, “he’s Thor’s brother. A prince. And I’m—well—” He gestured vaguely at himself, as if that summed up a lifetime’s worth of complications. “You really think he’d be interested?”

“Yes,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I do.”

Bucky opened his mouth to protest—he’s just curious about Earth, he’s friendly to everyone, it doesn’t mean anything—but then, as if on cue, you turned around in your seat. The instant your eyes met Bucky’s, your face lit with delight. You waved at him so earnestly that you almost spilled the bag of chips.

Bucky swallowed. “Fine,” he muttered, giving Steve a pointed look. “Maybe there’s a small chance.”

Steve suppressed a laugh, nudging Bucky forward. “Then go talk to him. Ask about chips, or Earth cuisine, or literally anything. Just say something.”

Bucky tried to summon that stoic confidence that sometimes worked for him. Instead, he felt like a high school kid with a crush. “Right,” he mumbled. “Be casual. Real casual.”

He stood up, discreetly adjusting his jacket, and made his way over to you. You greeted him with a bright smile—still holding that bag of chips as if you’d discovered gold. “Hello, Bucky!” you said. “I didn’t realize such simple food could taste so addictive.”

Bucky felt his heart do a little flip at the sound of his name on your lips. “Yeah, uh…chips,” he replied brilliantly, jamming his hand in his pocket in a desperate attempt to appear nonchalant. “They’re a big deal around here. We’ve got, uh…like, 70 flavors, I think.”

Your eyes widened. “Seventy?!”

“Maybe more,” Bucky corrected himself. He cleared his throat. “So, you like them?”

“Very much. I fear I might become dependent,” you admitted, glancing a little sheepishly at the half-empty bag. “But enough about me—how’s your day? I noticed you’ve been reading that newspaper for a while.”

Bucky cringed internally. Busted. “Oh, yeah—lots of…uh…interesting articles,” he fibbed, holding up the folded paper. He glanced at the front page, realized it was yesterday’s news, and hastily lowered it again. “Anyway, I was thinking, maybe we could…you know, get out for a while? Go, uh…check out a café nearby.”

Your brow furrowed, confusion creeping across your features. “But the Compound has a coffee machine. It’s in the kitchen, right? I can fetch you coffee, if you like.”

“No, no,” Bucky corrected, trying to keep his composure. “I mean, we could go out. Just you and me. Kind of an…outing.” He struggled with the word date, but it hovered there, unsaid.

Your eyes went wide, as though another revelation had dawned upon you. “Oh! You need supplies? Are we on a mission?”

“No, not a mission,” Bucky explained, scratching the back of his neck. “Just hanging out. Relaxing. Maybe having a nice conversation—away from everyone else.”

You nodded, albeit slowly. “A private conversation…in a place that also serves coffee?”

“Right,” Bucky confirmed, trying not to seem too relieved. “It’s…well, on Earth, we call that a ‘date.’”

He finally said it—date. His palms were sweaty, but he held your gaze, waiting.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, brows shooting up. “I’ve read about dates in one of the Midgardian relationship guidebooks. Something about courting rituals and paying for each other’s drinks to demonstrate affection?”

Bucky’s cheeks felt warmer by the second. “Yeah, that’s…that’s the general idea. You interested?”

“Yes!” you said, then paused, a flicker of doubt crossing your features. “But do we need to bring my father into this? Thor mentioned father-gifts or is that just for official betrothals? I don’t want to be rude.”

Off to the side, half-hidden in the hallway, Steve pinched the bridge of his nose to stifle a laugh. Bucky shot him a quick glare—thanks for the backup, pal. Chuckling nervously, Bucky shook his head. “No father-gifts required. On Earth, it’s usually just between, well…the two people going on the date.”

Your shoulders visibly relaxed. “Ah, excellent. That simplifies things. I wouldn’t know what to buy your father anyway—does he prefer golden chalices or—?”

“No, no,” Bucky interjected quickly, biting his lip to keep from outright laughing. “Seriously, no father involvement. We just go, maybe sit down, order coffee, talk.”

You seemed to take a moment to let that sink in. Then, you grinned wide. “That sounds delightful. When do we depart for this coffee date?”

“How about tomorrow morning? Around ten?” Bucky offered.

You placed a hand over your heart, nodding firmly. “Ten in the morning. I will be ready. Should I wear armor, or is that too formal?”

Bucky glanced at Steve again, who was now silently cracking up. He smothered a grin, turning back to you. “Casual clothes are fine. Maybe just…I dunno…a shirt and jeans, if you have them?”

“Ah, yes! The mortal garb. I’ll do my best not to clash patterns.” You tapped your chin thoughtfully. “Though everything on Earth seems to clash with my Asgardian boots.”

Bucky let out a soft laugh, feeling tension he didn’t realize he’d been holding in slip away. “You’ll be fine, trust me.”

Moments later, you excused yourself to research casual Earth attire, leaving Bucky standing in the lounge with a strangely giddy feeling in his chest. That’s when Steve sauntered in, arms folded, his smile practically ear-to-ear. “You see?” Steve teased. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t quite hide his grin. “I almost had to explain father-gifts, so maybe a little complicated.”

Steve chuckled. “Looked like you handled it just fine. And if you need a quick escape route tomorrow, you know I’ve got your back.”

Bucky gave him a playful shove. “Thanks, punk.”

Steve shrugged, still grinning. “Anytime, jerk.”

[suguslve]

thinking about loser (perv) idia .ᐟ

♰ pairings. idia shroud x shy fem! reader

♰ warnings. suggestive content. loser! idia at first but then he becomes a pervert (yum). noncon (?). pantie sniffing and stealing. stalking. uhhh idk what else. mdni

♰ word count. 1.5k

♰ a/n. i was on idia brainrot these past few weeks and decided to whip a lil something up ;) enjoy reading and lmk your thoughts!

— loser! idia who kept his head down, ignoring everyone, why does crowley need ALL housewardens to attend to a stupid meeting in the first place? he was busy uttering curses in his mind when your sweet voice broke the ruckus. his head snapped up just slightly, just enough to steal a glance at you. w-wait were you stuttering?! and you weren’t just stuttering—you were anxiously fidgeting with your hands too!! are you nervous because of the meeting? because of someone? or—wait—what if you’re nervous because you hate crowds too?! oh god, did he just find a fellow social avoidance expert??

— loser! idia who actually wanted to approach and talk to you, but obviously he’s a coward. yeah, nope, definitely NOT happening. he’d literally rather fight a final boss solo with no revives than approach you right now. and so, as the meeting adjourns, he quickly and quietly leaves the room (with his heart racing wildly and his face burning). 

— loser! idia who desperately tried to avoid you at every turn—but it was like the universe had other plans. no matter where he tried to hide, there you were. his carefully scouted, ultra-secret, 1000% normie-free safe zones? infiltrated. by you. of all people. what kind of cruel RNG was this?! ugh, this was turning into a way bigger side quest than he signed up for. his usual gaming hideout behind the school? you were there, sitting on the steps, quietly reading. the abandoned hallway near the library? you showed up, looking just as startled to see him as he was to see you. EVEN THE ROOFTOP—his ultimate last resort—had somehow become your preferred quiet spot?! and the worst part is sometimes, he’d see you there… and instead of running, he’d hesitate. just for a second. because—ugh, he’d never say it out loud—but you weren’t loud like the other normies. you weren’t disruptive. you were just… there. quiet. fidgeting. existing in your own little world.

— loser! idia who finally gained the courage to approach you. oh but trust him, it wasn’t like he wanted to—he just… happened to be in the same spot as you (again), and instead of immediately running in the opposite direction like usual, he somehow convinced himself to stay. which, might have been a huge mistake because the second your eyes flickered up to meet his, his brain immediately started screaming. abort, abort, abort— but you’d already seen him. his escape route had been cut off. and he just stood there, shifting on his feet, pulling at the strings of his hoodie like it was a lifeline. his mouth opened. closed. opened again. say something, you coward! 

— loser! idia who mumbled the weakest, most pathetic greeting ever known. “u-uh…yo?” his voice cracked, and he wanted the ground to swallow him up whole there on the spot. that was so cringe!! seriously?! ‘yo’?! what am i a generic background delinquent?! while he was having a crisis, you chuckled softly before greeting him in return. idia.exe has stopped working.

— loser! idia who didn’t know how this “friendship” between you even started. at first he avoided you like the plague and the next thing he knew, you two were hanging out like it was normal. at first, he figured you were just another shy person suffering through NRC, but the more you talked, the more he realized—wait, you actually get him?! you didn’t just tolerate his rants about games, anime, and how normies were a blight upon existence—you joined in. he slowly let his guard down around you. he didn’t even mean to, but you were just… easy to talk to. there were no expectations, no forced small talk, no annoying social pressure. if you two sat in silence, it wasn’t awkward. if you talked, it wasn’t exhausting. before he knew it, he was complaining about gacha rates and actually making jokes without wanting to crawl into a hole and die afterward.

— loser! idia who slowly fell for you and your little quirks. but hey! it’s not like you can blame him. you were stupidly cute in ways that made his heart do dumb things. you matched his energy—avoiding crowds, hiding from normies, nerding out over random things. you got excited about the smallest details, and somehow, somehow, you even made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the biggest loser in existence.

— loser! idia who slowly became possessive and obsessive over you. it started as just worry, okay?! totally normal levels of concern. but then his mind started spiraling—what if something bad happened to you and he wasn’t around?! NRC was a literal villain academy, full of shady, power-hungry weirdos, you can’t trust any of the students here—well, aside from him and ortho but that’s besides the point! you—with your big doe eyes and painfully sweet personality—were basically walking around with a giant “EASY TARGET” sign on your back. you can be easily taken advantage of!

— loser! idia who swore to be your protector. it wasn’t even a choice at this point—it was a necessity. so what if he wasn’t exactly the heroic, sword-wielding, normie-approved protector type? he had brains. he had strategy. and most importantly—he had a highly advanced AI-powered little brother who could do background checks on anyone who so much as looked at you funny. he might be a loser, but if he notices someone teasing or making you uncomfortable, he’ll reluctantly step in. “H-hey, back off, normie… uh, I mean, don’t be rude, or whatever…” then he drags you away like a panicked introvert escaping a social interaction.

— loser perv! idia who set up cameras all over ramshackle dorm to “keep an eye out on you.” it wasn’t stalking! no no, this was just preventative security measures! NRC was dangerous, okay?! a totally defenseless, magicless, too-trusting person like you? living alone in a rundown, ghost-infested dorm? that was basically asking for trouble. anyone with half a brain would’ve done the same! (right?)

— loser perv! idia who watches you 24/7 watching everything. the way you got ready for bed. the way you sighed and stretched when you thought no one was looking. the way your shirt slipped off your shoulder sometimes. and oh god, when you absentmindedly played with the hem of your skirt or chewed on the end of your pen? yeah. he was so beyond saving. okay so maybe he checked the cameras a little too often. maybe he kept the feed open on one of his monitors at all times. maybe he watched you even when there was no actual danger. but it’s not like he was doing anything weird! just… making sure you weren’t lonely!

— loser perv! idia who became utterly obsessed with you. he’d watch you from afar, his eyes tracing every movement, every smile. his room was filled with pictures of you, some taken without your knowledge. his obsession grew darker, more twisted. his obsession became all-consuming. he hacked into your social media accounts, reading your private messages and learning more about you than you ever intended to share. he’d watch you through hidden cameras he installed in your room, feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction as he invaded your privacy.

— loser perv! idia who snuck into your dorm one night as you were asleep. he watched you for hours, his heart racing with excitement and fear. oh how he wanted to touch you, to feel your skin against his. but he knew he couldn’t risk waking you up. instead, he roamed your room. touching your things, smelling the perfume you use, looking at the plushies you kept, but it wasn’t enough, so he made his way to your bathroom and went through all your dirty clothing. sniffing the clothes you wore, rummaging for ages until he found it. your soiled panties. he took them all, moaning as he smelt your scent on them. god he can feel himself growing hard right now. he took your underwear and kept them all on the pocket of his hoodie. but before he left he made sure to give you one look, and well maybe a peck on your cheek, but it’s not like you’d find out, right?

— loser perv! idia who rushed to his dorm room and locked it to make sure no one would disturb him. 

— loser perv! idia who watched various amounts of hentai that night, imagining it was you writhing and moaning under him. he pulled off his sweats and boxers and let his cock free. he hissed as the cold air hit his cock—then, he pulled your panties from where he had kept them. one hand sniffing it, and the other jerking himself off. he was so close, he could feel it, and so he took your underwear and jerked himself with it. oh fuck, he couldn’t take it anymore.

— loser perv! idia who couldn’t help himself from moaning your name over, and over until he came hard. his mind filled with dirty thoughts of defiling your innocence. god, he can’t wait to ruin you. he jerked himself faster, and faster until he came. his fluids soiling your panties. his breathing was labored, cheeks flushed. ah shit, this wasn’t gonna cut it, he needed more.

all rights reserved to © suguslve.

[thoughtfulfiction]

While We’re Young

Author’s note: Anon requested, Hope you all enjoy!

“Wait,” you said, your voice breaking the comfortable silence in the car. You twisted one of your hoodie strings around your finger, tightening your grip on it and staring at Justin as if the realization had just crashed into you. “What if they don’t like me?”

Justin glanced over, his brows furrowing before his expression softened. His hand found its place on your thigh, his thumb tracing a lazy pattern through the fabric of your leggings. You were convinced that his soothing touch could change lives. “They’re going to love you,” he said simply, as though it wasn’t even a question. “My mom’s already planning to interrogate you about your favorite foods so she can cook for you. That’s her love language.”

You wanted to believe him, but your mind was already racing. “I mean, what if they think I’m not good enough for you? Or—oh god—what if I say something stupid and embarrass myself? Bad first impressions are impossible to recover from, and if this doesn't go the way we hope…” You trailed off, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten.

At the next stoplight, Justin leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “First of all, you couldn’t embarrass yourself even if you tried. And second, I’ve seen you charm complete strangers. My family doesn’t stand a chance.”

Despite his confidence, your nerves didn’t fully settle. “Thanks, babe,” you murmured, managing a small smile. “But what am I supposed to do with the next thirteen hours? That’s so much time for me to go through worse case scenarios.”

“And to make me listen to your Sad Girl playlist,” Justin switched gears to remind you, his lips twitching into a grin.

“Oh, absolutely.” You laughed, connecting your phone to his car’s Bluetooth, taking a break from your negative self-talk. The opening chords of your favorite melancholic ballad filled the car as you leaned back in your seat.

Justin groaned dramatically but didn’t complain. Instead, he reached over to squeeze your hand, the warmth of his skin a quiet and comforting reassurance that you’d carry with you all the way to Eugene.

The fact that he was bringing you was a big deal already but to know that he’d only really done this a couple times made you feel special. Even if he didn’t really say it, he was falling for you just as much as you were falling for him.

Justin pulled you out of your thoughts when he asked, “are you hungry at all? Because I’m thinking about stopping somewhere. I’m starving.”

“Oh yeah, lunch sounds good. I think I saw a Wingstop sign towards this next exit but I can look it up.”

You opted to sit in the car and eat, giving him a long winded breakdown of what you wanted to do and see in Eugene.

“I want the works. Walk me down memory lane. And definitely take me to Nike. It honestly feels illegal not to go to a Nike store where it all started. I’m sure you’re looking to add to your endless collection anyway.” You note with a laugh. If Nike made suits, he'd definitely be first in line.

He gave you a pointed look. “It was an endless collection until I met and started dating a thief. Do you know how many of my sweatshirts I found in your closet this morning while helping you pack? I was looking for the purple one for weeks.”

You laughed so hard you nearly choked on your fries, swapping spots with him after lunch so he could take a break from driving. “Well I’m sorry! It’s not my fault your clothes are so big and they smell like you. Anytime you’re gone I just throw one on and it’s like you’re always with me.”

“Nice save…Catwoman.”

You scoff. “I prefer Robin Hood, actually. Take from the rich and give to the poor. You’re rich, so I take from you and...give to me. The poor.”

“That would work better if I didn’t get most of that stuff for free, but that is a pretty solid comparison.”

After about 8 hours of you being on aux, you decided to cut him so slack and let him take over on music as you continued to drive, mouthing the lyrics of the latest song that was playing from his phone, quickly getting lost in the rhythm.

He glanced over at you, chuckling softly, nodding his head along to the beat. “I didn’t know you were an 80s rock fan.”

“I didn’t either but you played this a few weeks ago while we were making dinner and I’ve been listening to it ever since. Hate to admit it but this is kind of a banger." You smirked, tilting your head toward him. "You know…I won’t tell anyone if you sing.”

Justin immediately starts shaking his head. “No shot. You’re not doing this to me.”

You turned up the music, singing loudly and deliberately off-key as he sighed deeply, his head dropping back against the headrest. But to your surprise, he joined in during the chorus. Both of you were screaming the lyrics to “Pour Some Sugar on Me” by Def Leppard, the car practically vibrating with your energy.

“What happens on the road trip stays on the road trip,” he said, holding out his pinky.

“Deal,” you laughed, locking your pinky with his before refocusing on the road.

A few hours later, Justin motioned for you to take the next exit. “Let’s hop out right here. I want to show you something,” he said cryptically.

The stop turned out to be a scenic lookout, the perfect place to watch the sunset with Mt. Shasta looming majestically in the distance. Justin laced his fingers with yours as the two of you walked toward the edge, stretching your legs after hours in the car.

“This is the most beautiful view I’ve ever seen,” you whispered, mesmerized by the golden and pink hues painting the sky.

Justin turned to you with a warm smile, his eyes full of something that made your stomach flutter. “Yeah… me too.”

You smacked his arm, keeping your gaze on the horizon. “Justin, focus. You’re not even looking at the scenery right now.”

“Sorry, I just got really distracted by the view in front of me. It’s kind of become my favorite.” He stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on the top of your head. His beard—something that came and went whenever he felt like it—tickled your temple, making you smile.

Turning around in his arms, you finally look up at him, the sight still stealing your breath even after all this time. His green eyes were softer in the glow of the setting sun, flickering between your eyes and lips as if he couldn’t decide where to focus.

“You’re my favorite view too,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Wouldn’t mind waking up to you for a while...the rest of my life even.”

The words hung in the air, fragile yet heavy with meaning. His brows lifted slightly, and for a moment, you worried you’d said too much. You hadn't even meant to say that last part out loud and you almost backtracked. But then, his lips curled into a small, hesitant smile, like he was processing the weight of your words.

“Really?” he asked, his voice low and steady. His hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “You—you see us doing this? Getting married, spending our lives together?”

The vulnerability in his tone made your heart ache in the best way. “Yeah, I do. Which is funny because I’ve never actually been with someone that I see a real future with.”

Justin didn’t respond immediately, but his actions spoke louder than any words ever could. His hands slid to frame your face fully, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as if memorizing every detail. He leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted to—but you didn’t.

When his lips finally met yours, it was soft and deliberate, like he was pouring everything he felt but couldn’t say into that one kiss. It wasn’t hurried or frantic; it was the kind of kiss that made the world fade away until it was just the two of you.

His hand gently cradled your head, holding you in place as if he was afraid you might slip away. You gripped the front of his hoodie, pulling him closer, your heart racing as the kiss deepened. There was something so raw, so unspoken in the way his lips moved against yours—it wasn’t just passion; it was promise. Everything you saw, this bright beautiful future together? He saw it too.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting together. He let out a shaky laugh, his hands still cradling your face. “I’ve never actually been with someone that I see a real future with either,” he admitted, his voice hoarse but filled with a quiet certainty. “Until now.”

The kiss lingered for just a moment longer, both of you savoring the connection, the sound of your heartbeat matching the rhythm of your breath. When Justin finally pulled back, there was a brief moment of silence, a quiet understanding between you. He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, giving you a small smile before pulling away completely to open the door of the car.

“I think we’ve stalled long enough,” he said, his voice a bit rougher than usual but still carrying that calm confidence you admired. “Let’s get this over with.”

You both shared a laugh, though it felt a bit nervous on your part as the reality of the day hit. You had no idea what to expect, but you knew this was a big moment for Justin—and for you.

Justin took the keys from your hand, giving you one last reassuring squeeze before getting in the driver's seat. You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the jittery nerves you hadn’t even realized you were holding onto.

The final leg of the drive felt like it stretched on forever, even though only a few hours had passed since you were on the mountain. There was something different in the air now. The soft, quiet hum of the road felt more like a countdown to something important.

Every few minutes, Justin would glance over at you, a soft smile curling at his lips as if trying to reassure himself just as much as you. His hand eventually found itself encasing yours, his thumb making lazy circles over your skin. He wasn’t saying much, but his presence, calm and unwavering, was more than enough.

When the exit for Eugene finally appeared, you felt your pulse quicken. This was it. This was the moment.

“Here we go,” Justin murmured, his voice somehow more steady than his movements, as he guided the car off the highway and toward the familiar road leading to his childhood home.

The transition felt sudden, but not uncomfortable. It was a quiet moment of realization that everything you’d shared so far had been leading to this point. He was letting you in. You were meeting the people who mattered most to him, the ones who had shaped him into the man he was today.

As you approached the house, you could see the familiar outline of the porch, a few trees swaying in the breeze, and a small garage you guessed held memories of Justin’s childhood. The house was modest, but there was a sense of warmth and familiarity that seemed to radiate from the front door, even from the car.

Justin slowed as he approached, his hand reaching over to squeeze yours one last time before he parked the car. He looked over at you, eyes soft but serious, like he was searching for your reassurance.

“You ready?” he asked quietly, his voice laced with both excitement and nerves.

You nodded, squeezing his hand back. “Yeah. Ready.”

And with that, the two of you got out of the car and walked toward the front door of his family’s home, the journey that had brought you here feeling like both an ending and a beginning.

The door swung open before you even knocked, and there stood his mom, her arms outstretched.

She was gorgeous, her dark hair a stark contrast to Justin's much lighter features. But she wasn't interested in him at all, making a beeline for you straight away. “Oh, you’re even more beautiful than he said! I’m Holly—come in, come in!"

You barely had time to process her words before you were enveloped in a warm hug, her energy immediately putting you at ease. Over her shoulder, you spot Justin’s dad, Mark, standing on the porch with a reserved smile, and Justin’s brothers are leaning against the doorway, smirking. Justin laughed softly behind you, side stepping you and his mom. "Alright, let her breathe please? It'd be helpful if she made it through this entire night without suffocating," he jokes as his mom pulls away, rolling her eyes as she gives him a hug.

A younger guy who looks almost exactly like a mustached version of your boyfriend greets you next. "Hi, I'm Patrick. Glad Mitch wasn't lying and you are a real person, but pro tip? You're way out of this dork's league," he says with a serious face, nodding his head towards his older brother.

Justin glares at him and doesn't respond, muttering something under his breath that only Patrick catches as he bursts into a fit of laughter. You give Mitch a hug—the familiar face of Justin's older brother a welcome sight. He was a first-year orthopedic surgery resident at UCLA, the perfect situation for him and Justin to live together again. You'd been able to meet him on several occasions which proved useful in easing your nerves about meeting everyone else. “How was the drive? Are you guys staying at the ranch tonight?”

“We are,” you replied with a smile. “I’m really excited to finally see this infamous place.”

Justin’s dad steps forward, his handshake firm but warm, his eyes studying you with quiet curiosity before his face softens into a welcoming smile. “Don’t let these two scare you off. We’re happy to finally meet you. Let's head inside, I think Holly already has the baby pictures set out and ready for you to go through," he smiles, patting Justin on the back as his son shakes his head.

"You're lucky your dad talked me out of making a PowerPoint Presentation because we were seconds away from watching a pre dinner slideshow." Holly says to him with a small smile as everyone steps inside.

Patrick's voice cuts through everyone's laughter, "she's not even kidding, it was about to have music included and everything but dad saved you. I was about to give her some of the best material." He looks over at you, overenunciating for emphasis. "Two words: bowl. Cut."

"See what I have to deal with?" Justin whispers, gently pulling you into his side. Mark and Holly exchange knowing looks but don't say anything.

The house smelled of cinnamon and fresh bread, like warmth itself had settled into the walls. Framed pictures lined the hallways—some faded with time, others vibrant and new—each capturing a story of childhood adventures and hard-won victories. The fireplace crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the cozy living room. This wasn’t just a house; it was a sanctuary, a place where love was stitched into the very fabric of its foundation.

On the table in the living room is a stack of photo albums from when Justin was a newborn all the way up until his senior year of college. Countless memories were shared in these frames, a clearly busy but joyful childhood filled with love, laughter and lots of sporting events of all kinds. You could see that this family valued quality time with each other and the home you were in radiated warmth and love.

You ran your fingers lightly over the plastic covering of one album, tracing the faded marker label: Justin – Year 3. Inside, a chubby-cheeked toddler grinned back at you, his tiny facial features stretched in a mischievous but slightly forced smile.

“He never changed,” Patrick teased. “Still hates cameras.”

His words made you laugh a little because it was true, but you also saw something deeper. A boy who had grown up in a home where love wasn’t measured in trophies or contracts but in moments. The same boy who had fought to protect his private life in the face of stadium lights and national attention. You understood now—it wasn’t about secrecy. It was about keeping his people, the most important part of him, safe.

Your gaze flickered to Justin, his fingers tapping against his thigh—a telltale sign of deep thought. He wasn’t just reminiscing. He was remembering what it felt like to carry all of this, to be seen as something larger than life before he even had a chance to grow into it. And yet, here, he wasn’t the NFL quarterback. He was just...Justin.

"He was the starter by the end of that season, kind of became the hometown hero from then," Mitch sighs, sifting through some of the photos. "Things kind of got chaotic after that, with comparisons and people talking on social media."

"It was annoying," Justin cuts in, "deleted my Instagram after that. Only got it back around the draft for endorsement purposes." His words are dry, like it was painful or embarrassing thinking back to that time.

You had always respected, even admired, Justin’s need for privacy. But sitting here, surrounded by the people who had shaped him, you understood where it all came from: it wasn’t just about keeping the world out—it was about keeping his world safe. The weight of expectations, the relentless scrutiny, the unspoken pressure to be perfect—it had started young. He hadn’t chosen to be private. He had been forced to learn how to protect the things that mattered most.

And that’s what this house and his family was.

His one refuge from a world that always wanted more.

"Alright," Holly says, breaking you out of your epiphany, "who's ready to eat?"

This was a family you could definitely see yourself being a part of. Justin seemed so much more relaxed and at ease here which was a stark contrast to what you'd seen from him recently. His job was unforgiving, unrelenting. And the fans? You thanked your lucky stars daily for the fact that Justin wasn't on Twitter, especially after the Houston loss. This is where he belonged, these were his people. They didn't care about the stats or the money or everything that came with it and that's exactly how he wanted to be treated. He had a home in these people. He'd only found that comfort and peace one other time since he left Eugene.

And that was when he met you.

Dinner went on seamlessly, Mark joking asked if you two had a wedding date set after watching his son not-so-subtly check in on you throughout your stay. There were inside jokes, little moments of laughter from your relationship with Justin like how you had to adjust to his crazy hours in the facility from Monday-Wednesday but Thursdays were the days that really mattered, it was just the two of you. And sometimes Mitch and Isabella. But those were the days that brought you even closer, those little moments, just like this one that brought you so much joy it felt like you'd explode. There was easy laughter, Patrick telling some story about Justin being so private and how much he likes to keep to himself that he never thought he'd see this day. You spoke up and reassured him that you think you've successfully peeled back some layers and found your best friend in the process. Out of the corner of your eye you caught Mitch giving Patrick a nudge. Even Mark cracked a little smile, but all you could focus on was Justin's subtle smile that spoke volumes, in his own unique way. After everyone was finished with their meal, you found yourself in the kitchen with Holly, helping her plate dessert while the guys debated football in the other room.

“He’s different with you, you know.” She nodded, wiping her hands on a dish towel before leaning against the counter.

Your hands froze mid-reach. A small knot of nerves twisted in your stomach. “Different good or…?”

She smiled, her eyes soft with something unreadable. “Good. Really good.” There was a wistfulness in her expression, something unspoken lingering in the air. “You remind me of someone.”

You tilted your head, curiosity sparking. “Oh?”

“His grandma. My mom,” she said, voice quieter now, like the weight of memory had settled over her. “She was the only one who could ever get my dad to slow down. He was always moving—always thinking about the next challenge, the next goal. But with her, it was…different. She had this way of pulling him back to the present, reminding him that love isn’t measured in achievements. That life isn’t just about what you do—it’s about who you share it with.”

Her eyes met yours then, her meaning unmistakable. “Seeing you and Justin felt very similar to seeing them together again. It’s really nice to see him be with someone who helps him to reel it in a little.”

Your heart clenched, warmth blooming in your chest. You swallowed past the lump in your throat, forcing out a small laugh. “Well, he’s still a workaholic, so I might not be that good at it.”

Holly chuckled. “That’s just who he is. But I see the way he looks at you. The way he’s always checking in. You’re his home. His safe space.” She paused, and added softly, “And that’s all a mother could ever want for her son.”

You blinked back the unexpected sting of tears and watched as Holly swiped at her eyes. Before you could really process what you were doing, you were hugging her again. All the nerves and tension from earlier have completely vanished. Justin might not say much, but his actions had always spoken volumes. And now, hearing it from his mom—knowing that she saw it too—meant more than you could put into words.

The two of you walked back in with trays holding little bowls filled with apple crisp and a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top with caramel drizzle.

As Justin watched you, something settled in his chest—a feeling he hadn’t even known he was searching for. His mom was smiling at you in that way she only did when she had already decided someone was family. His dad—usually quiet, reserved—nodded along to your words like he genuinely enjoyed the conversation. His brothers, relentless as ever, had already started pulling you into their teasing.

And there you were. Sitting beside him, laughing like you belonged here. Because you did.

An hour later, after lingering goodbyes and a few last jokes, you walked side by side to his car. As Justin slid into the driver’s seat, he exhaled slow and deep. A weight he hadn’t even realized he was carrying finally lifted. Maybe it was the fear of his two worlds colliding. Maybe it was the quiet, unspoken worry that you wouldn’t fit into this part of his life.

But you did. Seamlessly. Effortlessly. Like you were always meant to.

“Well,” you said, patting his thigh with a teasing grin, “that went great. Can’t believe you were so freaked out.”

He turned to you, feigning offense before shaking his head with a laugh. The sound of it filled the car, warm and easy. You joined in, your laughter melting into his as he reached for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.

This. This is what home should feel like.

Justin leaned over, pressing a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering for just a second longer than necessary. “Told you they’d love you,” he murmured.

But as he pulled back, hand still wrapped around yours, the thought hit him like a slow-burning realization.

I think I might love you too.

[ariadne-mouse]

Cottagecore Ludinus intrigues me because there are too many questions from the grand scale to the hilariously mundane. Does he know the gods are walking among mortals now, or does he think Predathos did a full deity dine-and-dash? Does he keep informed about what's happening post-Descension or is he at peace with whatever because at least he flicked the switch? While we don't know much about his lifestyle as a youth & also what he did during the tail end of Calamity, he is long-accustomed to living in a fine tower, and certainly could have Magnificent Mansion or a permanent demiplane, and yet chooses a "simple homestead" in the physical world. Does he have a door to a demiplane in a closet, or is he going full rustic? How much does the former archmage use magic in his everyday life for his comfort and convenience? Does he know how to chop wood?? Can he fix a leaky roof??? Does he do it badly??? He has ceased whatever was making him unscryable. Is that deliberate as part of "letting go" of his past era or did his new body/means lack the same protections? How comfortable is he with being known? Does he trade for the neighbor's fresh bread and make smalltalk like a Normal Guy? Does he quietly push the neighbor off a cliff when they notice something about him he feels threatens his anonymity? How is he handling the drastic contrast between being the master manipulator orchestrating a centuries-long plan with so many moving parts, to just being by himself in isolation? Has he actually achieved inner peace as he calmly makes tea or is he struggling with post-achievement turmoil and depression? What do you do with a high-octane brain full of metal and wheels and schemes when there is nothing but fog and silence?? Rest may sound good in theory, and even be a relief at first, but he's been who he is for a thousand years.

Anyway my first thought after the reveal was "Does he ever get frustrated and Power Word Kill the teakettle" and I think the answer is yes.

[whore-ibly-hot]

Tw: Dubcon, coercion, orgasm denial, general guys being icky and manipulative.

(Its kinda ass idk)

Thinking about...

A couple of guys, not really delinquents bit certainly not 'upstanding' citizens just using you for some relief. It's probably after some event, maybe a rock show at some shithole downtown, or maybe you were just getting some snacks with guys you thought were your friends. Not thought, they are your friends, but you couldn't have imagined this.

The first fidgets with the lever of the backseats, trying to get them folded back into the trunk while number twos tugging at your skirt, your tits pressed harshly into the leather of his car. "Cmon, find the fucking lever!" He growls and number one, who raises his hands in defense. "What do you want me to do, its probably your fucking car that let this happen. This shit-bucket probably doesn't even have a lever for the seats anymore."

Number three is driving, slowly finding some small lot with minimal lights in the back of some old building, shifting into park. While the two in back continue to bicker, he makes his way to the front of you. "Are you two sure about this? Seems like going to far." He says, one hand gripping at his pants sleeve with tension.

"You're bricked up too, bro. You aren't exactly the virgin Mary here." Number two pauses, then chuckles. "But, maybe virgin does fit." One cackles too, prompting three to smack the shoulder of two. "You're not scared, are you? You want this plenty, right?" Two asks, squishing your cheeks together in a 'fishy' face with a free hand.

"Don't know." You're scared, tired from the the fun night, unsure why three guys you've always been platonic with are doing this, but you can't deny the aching in your gut, the way your thighs are rubbing a bit against the leather seams of the middle seat and the far right seat. "I'm not sure, you guys-" You yelp, a hard open-palm grazing across the sliver of exposed ass poking from under your slightly ridden up skirt.

"Fuck is wrong with you?" Three asks, suddenly the seat jolts down, making you gasp. "Easy, easy."

"Get that skirt off, I just know she's got a good ass." One's hands push up, grabbing a cheek each amd kneading them as he groans. "Fucking mint, look at this, baby!" One leans so he's over you a bit, hard clothed cock pressing against your ass as he whispers in your ear. "Why'd you hide this thing from us?" He asks.

"I wasn't hiding it-"

"Obviously." Two snarks. "We barely even had to lift this skirt up, you were practically flaunting it."

God, you're aching. Maybe it's half stress, half arousal making you run on adrenaline, but the lack of care they seem to have for how you feel about this is having a primal effect on you.

"Pussy's fat too..." One comments, yanking down the thin panties keeping your soaked lips from him.

"Careful!" You squeak, causing them all to actually pause for a moment. "Its... been a bit."

Two breaks out into a grin, realizing this should mean dwindling protests from you about the way they plan to use you.

"She's not saying yes." Three protests, hand coming to hover over your cunt, effectively blocking his eager friends wandering fingers.

"She said maybe, and look at her!" One tries to get his hands past threes hand. "She's dripping on his leather seats, she's wetter than a bitch in heat.

"Its not like we're holding her down in some alley or something!" Two adds, placing a kiss on your sweaty forehead. "This is loving compared to that. Vanilla stuff." He snips.

Three seems conflicted, eyes downcast as he reluctantly pulls a hand away, moving it to gently rub your back up and down, as if trying to soothe a cat.

"Finally. Glad you decided to knock off the cockblocking." Spreading the lips of your labia, one whistles lowly, dragging a digital from your hole to aroused bud from behind, gently circling once, then twice.

"Shit-" You whisper out, gripping the seat edges with slick hands. You can feel threes hand clench slightly, but you lay your cheek on his knee, casting a flushed and low-lidded glance up at him. This reassures him a little, but your head near his oh-so sensitive inner thigh makes this action also go right to his dick.

"Fingers, how many you want?" One whispers. You just mewl at the feeling of friction on your clit, whining when it suddenly stops. "Wait, wait, okay, two, two!" You exclaim. You jolt forward a bit at the slight intrusion, the digits working you towards a finish, but not at the pace you'd like.

"You're sucking him in like crazy, shit." Two chuckles, leaning to glance behind you. "Makes me wonder what kinda suction you'd have elsewhere." He fidgets with his belt, the sound of a zipper and belt clasp coming undone sounds out, and a snap of boxers being pulled slightly lower. Three looks disgusted as two just winks, taking his own cock in his hand and running his hand over it once, then twice before pressing it forward.

Your lips wet with the slightly sticky red tip he presses to them, prodding once or twice like he's seeking entrance. "You wanna out in? Just give it a taste, I promise I'm not gonna make you take it all the way, baby." Two chuckles as you awkwardly kiss the tip. "That's nice, but I'm not asking you to give it's first kiss." Gripping your hair, he guides it in a bit, groaning. "Yeah, there we go. Right around my cock, use your tongue." You let out a moan as one hits a spot with the tips of his fingers, curled inside. It reverberates around Two's cock, causing him to buck. He keeps his promise, you have to admit, he only bucks forward a bit before pulling his length back out. "You're taking it so fucking good, not gonna bruise your mouth though, she's taking it like a fucking champ, man." He glances at One. "You think she's close?"

"Her pussy's twitching like she's gonna pop any second." The bragging first member slows his pace, causing you to whine and pull your mouth off Two's cock. "Why'd you stop, wait- wait-" You're panting, on the verge of overstimulation and seeking that release rather than focus on all your conflicting feelings.

"Shh, calm down. You'll get your pussy rocked, calm down." Two elbows Three, nodding his head towards the man. He's been stoic since you out your head on his leg, conflicted and sickened, while simultaneously being sickening aroused. "Last chance to jump this, man. I know you want to.." Three just pushes him back, but moves to have you sit up, now facing him. His hands on your cheek. "Breathe. S' okay, you want to stop, or you want to finish this?" He asks.

"Finish it, baby. We'll stroke it over yo-" Three smacks off one, scolding him before turning back to you. "Your choice. Your decision. Don't listen to them." Three reassures you, arms on blocking you in and leaning over you slightly to keep the other two from interfering.

"Finish. I wanna cum, m' aching and-" You buck forward just a bit, and he gets the memo. "Okay, okay. Lay on your back, spread your legs, I'm gonna do the work."

You don't have to be asked twice; laying on the cool leather, this time back down, chest rising. Two hands get your feet tucked around Threes waist, and he lowers down on you. You're so hyper focused on how sensitive you are, and your 'friend'leaning over you you can barely register one and two jerking off, hoping to climax around the time you do.

Three gets himself lined up, but not before placing a few soft kisses on your neck. "I got you. Just forget about those idiots, okay? You and me, I'm taking care of you. I'll let you finish and make em' take you right back home."

You just nod, eyes squeezing tight as he enters. "Ah-" You groan. "You're big, fuck-"

He's not moving. "Too big?"

You shake your head, and he resumes several slow repitions. Eventually, he's fully sheathed, balls smacking against your ass as he thrusts. "Amazing, you feel so good, so good." He grunts. His hands brace on either side of you, but don't grip you harshly like one and two. "Is it good for you?" He asks.

"Up..." is all you can mumble. He gets the hint, angling his cock slightly. Soon, his bulbous tip is hammering that spongy place deep inside you, and you can feel your release finally hitting. "Yes, cumming, I'm finishing-" You start to yell, then gasp at a hot rush of fluids that's aren't your own.

"Holy shit!" Two cackles along with one, as three halts in his movements. "Mister 'i don't wanna, it's not right' might've just knocked you up!"

Your still riding out your orgasm, but three has immediately snapped out of ir. "I didn't mean to, sorry, I didn't-" he's pulling out, immediately smacking two who finished a bit ago. "Its your car, drive. Fucking drive, go to the pharmacy." Two puts his hands up, but obeys.

"M' so sorry." Three says as he sits you up. "I promise I'm clean and stuff, and we're gonna grab plan b, get you some water too-"

"Its okay." You blurt. "Its okay, I know you didn't mean to." Biting your lip, you think about what happened. Of any other guys did this, it'd be horrifying, and you admit it was scary. But... it also wouldn't feel nearly as hot with anyone else. "It was good."

"Hell yeah it was." Both of you were so caught up, you didn't realize One stayed in the back of the car. "Wait till you get a ride on me, baby. I promise I'll be even more of a gentleman. Shit, I'll tell you before it shoot my load in you."

You should go out for late night drives more.

[tinylilacbun]

even after jj gets caught by the mercenaries the only thing he worries about is his baby...୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

This was not what JJ had planned. To be caught, by the same guys that tried to off him and Kie when they got that amulet, because of Groff was the last thing he had on his agenda after his crash out.

Now, after being shoved into an engine room he paces back and forth, stopping to point a finger at Groff with a glare on his face. "Listen, I don't care what you got going on with those guys but I have to go back home, a'ight? You may not give a fuck about me, I can live with that, but I got a kid that that's expecting me to tuck her into bed later."

There's a beat of silence as Groff sits down on top of the metal steps, his hands intertwined together, seemingly shocked at this new information. "You got a kid?"

JJ sighs, leaning against the railing with his back facing Groff and crossing his arms. "Yeah...she's- god, she's the best thing that ever happened to me, actually. I mean, I did a lot of fucked up things. But she's the only thing I never regret in my life."

Groff nods with a smile that's everything but genuine which the blonde didn't notice at the moment. "What's her name?"

JJ says your name with adoration, smirking to himself as he can only think about how much of a fuss you're probably giving the others right now.

"She just turned three. A hyperactive little rascal, something she got from me apparently, at least that's what everyone says." He shrugs, scratching the back of his neck.

That describes it lightly.

You're basically a mini version of him, the same crazy locks, a dimple that is always seen on your chubby cheek, the mischievous and adventurous behavior.

Everything about you screams that you are JJ's kid, and you you can be sure that he's more than proud of that.

"Guess there's never a boring day then." Groff chuckles, trying to get on JJ's good side by doing small talk.

"You wouldn't know it." JJ remarks, turning his head to face him. "Since you gave me away to a drug addicted alcoholic before I could even crawl but who am I to care. I got someone worth fighting for and waiting for me to come home right now."

He adverts his eyes from him again, running a hand through his messy hair with a heavy sigh.

"She's a good kid...always polite and helping whenever she can even though she's still so small, probably thanks to Kie's and Pope's influence." He chuckles lightly, looking down at the matching bracelet that's designed in a mix of yours and his favorite colors that Sarah made for you and him a while back.

Groff stays uncharacteristically silent, taking in how JJ talks about you as if you're the most important thing on earth, which you are, to him at least or all the other pogues that watched you grow up.

"Just know, that if you pull any shit with me, I swear I won't hesitate to kill you before those mercenaries can." JJ suddenly threatens him, not planning on growing any kind of bond with the man who couldn't give a damn about him when he was just a baby.

The only thing that matters to him is you, his baby.

[florawrites-blog]

6 a.m. Sharp.

Your first shift at the coffee shop. You were nervous—scratch that, you were a trembling mess. The weight of responsibility, the unfamiliar register, and the caffeine-deprived customers who definitely weren’t going to be patient with you—it was all too much.

And then he walked in.

A tall stranger, draped in an oversized hoodie, mask concealing most of his face, except for those boba-like eyes peeking from behind his blondish bangs. Broad shoulders, a relaxed yet purposeful stride—he was the kind of person who carried an air of effortless coolness.

Your stomach sank. Oh no. Not an attractive customer. Not at 6 a.m.

You already knew. You just knew you were going to mess up.

As if the universe wanted to prove you right, the moment he stepped closer to the counter, pulling down his mask to reveal a dazzling smile—dimples and all—your brain completely short-circuited.

He hadn’t even spoken yet, and you were already doomed.

"Yes, I can serve you. Let me serve you forever, please."

The words tumbled out before you could stop them.

Jungwon blinked. “I—”

Your soul left your body. “Um—I mean, oh! What can I ser—sorry, sir. Um. I think my shift just ended.”

"...But you just opened?"

“No, no, actually, we’re closing. Good day, goodbye—oh my god, please don’t go, I want you—I MEAN—nope! Yep! I’m going.”

Your hands slammed down on the counter as you internally screamed, your body already moving to escape this humiliation.

"Wait—"

But before he could say another word, you yanked off your apron, shoved it toward him, and declared in full-blown panic, "You know what? Here. Take this. Make your own drink. I’m gone."

And just like that, you ran.

Jungwon stood frozen in place, blinking in pure disbelief. The only sign that he hadn’t hallucinated the entire ordeal was the apron now resting in his hands.

After a solid moment of processing, he let out a breathless chuckle, dimples deepening as he shook his head in amusement.

And from that day on, every single morning, he returned—same time, same order, same hope that he’d catch another glimpse of you.

But you? Oh, you were prepared. You hid behind coworkers, ducked behind counters, and strategically planned every possible escape route to avoid another incident.

And yet—every time, without fail—he showed up anyway.

[rhyrhy]

it's my time to shine, ayy 🫶🏼 'm on a whole mission, (you can see it on my blog), reader is cocky, smug, little-shit femme, her and Abby are friends with "benefits" (as: Abby and reader take care of each other, share a bed, kisses "as friends" using it as a stress relief, etc) yet every single time reader try to, like, DTR (define the relationship, duh!), Abby straight up ghosts reader on that convo, (she has major comphet vibes, but that's just a lil' headcanon, don't come for me) now, reader? she ain't no doormat, she's PETTY. Capital P-E-T-T-Y. so when they're both forced (forced proximity? oops...) for a mission, reader looks at Abby dead in the eyes when they're aline and hit her with: "girl, i've been wantin' to kick your ass all week"

OOOOOO THIS IS GOOD! I did my best, mini Drabble

Dodge, duck, ghost - A.A

Abby Run-Like-a-Bitch Anderson,

Manny cried laughing the first time he heard you call her that. But you weren’t joking.

Not when the last time you saw Abby, she was bolting out of your room like the WLF had just declared war. And before that? Her tongue was down your throat, hands gripping your waist like she never planned on letting go. That’s how it felt every-time.

That was how she always was touchy, needy, all over you behind closed doors. But you weren’t some secret, something to be ashamed of. Not when there were plenty of other people who’d proudly parade you around. But unfortunately for you, the heart wants what it wants. And unlike Abby, you actually listen to yours. So when the moans and cries had stopped bouncing off your walls, she said something that caught you off guard.

Abby’s breathing was still uneven, her fingers lazily tracing circles against your hip like she wasn’t ready to let go just yet. The room was quiet, save for the sound of your heart still thudding in your chest. And then, she said it. soft, almost like she didn’t mean to say it out loud.

“It’s— this, is different with you…you feel like home”

You blinked, turning your head to look at her. Her gaze was on the ceiling, brows slightly furrowed, like she was already regretting the words.

“Home..?” A slow smile crept onto your lips. “…Sounds long term,” you teased, nudging her side.

That made her freeze. The lazy circles against your hip stopped. Then, before you could react, she was pulling away, sitting up and reaching for her clothes like she’d just been caught doing something wrong. Afterglow or not, she meant it. And you had to push. You’d let her dance around the obvious for too long. For God’s sake, you were there when she broke up with Owen. Listened to her go on and on about how much of a bitch Mel was, how wrong it all felt. So the least she could do was be honest. not just with you, but with herself.

And like clockwork, she stiffened. Sat up. Started getting dressed like she hadn’t just spent the last hour tangled up with you, her face buried against your neck.

“Uht-uht. Hey. Where are you going?” you asked, watching her yank on her shirt.

Abby didn’t look at you. Just laced up her boots and muttered, “I gotta be up early.”

You sat up too, arms resting on your knees. The only thing keeping your sheets warm now was the disappointment. This couldnt keep going on. “Abby, can you stop for two—”

Thud

But the door was already closed behind her.

”—seconds,” you finished, to the empty room.

That was weeks ago.

And wasn’t the first time she’s done that. You never pushed her to label herself, bi, lesbian, it didn’t matter to you. But with her, it went in one ear and out the other. At first, you tried to play it cool. If she needed time to sort through whatever that was, fine. But then she started dodging you. Switched up her gym schedule. Took shifts at different hours. Disappeared from the mess hall when you walked in. She was practically a ghost.

“Yeah, she definitely avoiding you chica” manny said turning back to his plate

“Wow Thanks manny” you huffed. Yeah, That much was obvious.

The Abby you knew wouldn’t just run off. Or at least, the Abby you thought you knew. So when Isaac briefed you on your next mission and didn’t mention her name, you almost bought it. Almost. Until you showed up at the post and caught Abby mid-change, swapping out a sweat-stained shirt for a clean one.

She paused when she saw you, shoulders stiff like she’d already knew where this was going. You cocked your head, waiting for her to say something.

She didn’t. Of course she didn’t.

“You know what—” you sighed, setting your pack down. Then, dead serious, you looked her right in the eyes and said—

“Girl, I’ve been wantin’ to kick your ass all week.”

Abby exhaled through her nose, shaking her head like she knew this was coming. “Jesus.”

“Jesus? Oh no, don’t bring him into this now,” you scoffed, stepping closer. “He ain’t the one who ghosted me after weeks of—what did you call it? ‘Taking care of each other?’” You even threw up air quotes, just to be a little shit about it.

Abby’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t ghost you.”

You blinked. Then laughed at her, like she was doing stand up on stage. “Oh, right. So what do you call changing your gym schedule, eating at different times, avoiding me like I got the damn plague?”

Abby dragged a hand down her face, resting it on her hip. “I just—”

You held a hand up before she could choke something out. “Say some bullshit, I dare you,” you cut in, tilting your head.

She clenched her jaw. Looked away. “I just needed space.”

You stared at her. “Space? Call NASA for that shit. You were in my bed two weeks ago. Two.”

Abby shifted, muttering, “That was different.”

“Oh yeah?” You crossed your arms. “How?”

Silence.

You let it hang there, watching her fingers flex at her sides like she wanted to ball them into fists but knew that wouldn’t fix this. Like she knew you were right but refused to say it. You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “See, this is exactly why I said what I said. You know what you want, Abby. You’re just too chickenshit to admit it.”

Abby’s head snapped up. “That’s not true.”

“Then prove it.” You stepped closer, tilting your chin up. “Tell me you don’t want me. Right here, right now.”

Abby just stared at you, jaw tight, breath a little unsteady.

The tension was thick. You could see it in the way her fists clenched, in the way her eyes flickered over your face like she was searching for something. some way out, some way forward. Anything.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

But then, someone called both of your names, signaling it was time to move out. Abby exhaled sharply, grabbed her pack, and brushed past you without another word.

You just sighed , slinging your bag over your shoulder. Three days.

She’d have to deal with you for three whole days.

The mission was simple: track and clear a small group of Scars camping out near the old radio tower. It should’ve been easy. Would’ve been, if not for the unspoken thing crackling in the air between you and Abby. She was doing her best to ignore it, kept her distance, kept her eyes forward, barely said a word unless it was mission-related.

You? You were having the time of your life.

Every chance you got, you brushed past her, just close enough to graze her arm. Threw her smug little looks when she glared at you. Smiled real pretty when she clenched her jaw and looked away. Petty? Yeah. But so was avoiding someone just because they called you out on your own bullshit. Your own feelings that were right in front of her.

By the time the mission was over and you’d made it back to the safe house for the night, you could feel the tension rolling off her. Everyone else had turned in for the night, sprawled out across old mattresses and sleeping bags. But you weren’t done with her yet.

She was sitting near the window, legs stretched out, back against the wall. She had her arms crossed, fingers tapping against her bicep like she was still wound up, still caught up in whatever thought, feelings words even, she refused to let out.

So you moved over to her. You crouched in front of her, hands on your knees, and grinned. “Y’know,” you said, voice just low enough that no one else could hear, “if you keep runnin’ from your feelings like this, you’re gonna pull something.”

Abby’s fingers stopped tapping. Her eyes flicked to you, sharp and tired. “Not now.”

“Oh, so later then?” Your smile grew. “I’ll pen you in.” “How’s Friday? That work for you?”

Abby exhaled through her nose. “Jesus, do you ever shut up?

You leaned in slightly, dropping your voice even lower. “Mm, You used to like when I ran my mouth. What happened to that?”

Abby’s jaw tightened.

You tilted your head. “What, nothing to say? No pissy comeback? No ‘shut the fuck up’ ,” You reached out, lightly tapping her knee. “C’mon, Abs. Say something.”

And that’s when it happened.

Abby moved fast. One second, she was sitting against the wall, and the next, she was grabbing you by the front of your shirt and yanking you up until your back hit the opposite wall. The breath caught in your throat, but before you could recover, she was right there, her face inches from yours, eyes dark, chest rising and falling like she’d finally had enough. You’d finally pissed her off enough.

You could feel the frustration flowing off of her. And man, did you love it.

“You think this” she gestured between you two “is a game?” Abby hissed, voice low, rough.

Your pulse spiked, but you kept your cool, rolling your eyes at her. “I think you’re mad ‘cause you know I’m right.”

Abby’s grip on your shirt tightened. “You make everything so fucking difficult ” she muttered, shaking her head.

“Oh yeah?” Your voice was barely a whisper now.

Abby’s eyes flickered to your mouth. Then, finally. finally. she broke. “Yeah.”

Her mouth crashed into yours, rough and frustrated, her hands sliding down to grab your waist, pressing you firmly against the wall. You gasped into it, hands flying to her arms, gripping her tight as she kissed you like she was trying to shut you up for good.

Like she was trying to prove something, to you, to herself maybe.

But she’d already lost. Because when she pulled back, breathing hard, you just smiled before speaking again. “Atta girl. Knew you’d crack.”

Abby groaned, dropping her head against your shoulder. “I hate you.”

“Mmn, no you don’t.” You grinned, running a hand through her hair. “But keep tellin’ yourself that, baby.” Her hands tightened on your waist.

Yeah, you’d won this round. But she still had a long way to go.

@/enchanthings for boarders

[geowrites03]

A Part of the Family

Part 1 ~ Getting Adopted

Batfam x Fem!Orphan!Reader

Summary: Y/n is just another kid left out on the harsh streets of Gotham, all having to fend for themselves. She however had a friend in low places. But, what will happen if this friend gets sent to Arkham Asylum? Who will she have to save her from the dangers of this god awful city?

“Waylon!” I called out as I stomped on the manhole cover to get his attention. He usually came by now, I hope the Bat didn’t get him again. But much to my shitty luck.

“It’s no use kid, Batman got him last night.” I look over to see Selina there. She isn’t wearing her Catwoman suit which is surprising because of how late it is.

“You probably helped him somehow, too.” She looked at me quizzical. “Everyone knows that the Cat and the Bat got something going on.”

“Okay, but what if I say that, I didn’t help him?” She came closer and wrapped her arm around me so we could walk to somewhere else because she noticed a small group of sketchy guys walking towards me.

“Then I guess I can… Share some of my food? I usually split it with Waylon, but…” She laughed and shook her head.

“No I was kidding, I don’t want anything. You can keep all the food to yourself tonight.” She stopped walking and put each of her hands on either of my shoulders. “I take that back, I want one thing. You to stay safe, Waylon won’t be back for awhile ‘cause he always takes forever to escape, so please, stay out of trouble.”

I nodded and gripped one of her hands for reassurance. “I promise.” She smiled down at me, then got a message on her phone.

“I have to go now. Bye, and I mean it, Stay Out Of Trouble.” I nodded again as she ran off.

I looked around to see if the group of guys was still following us but it looks like we lost ‘em. Now all I have to do is find a place to eat my food.

Deciding that up on a hard to get to roof would be best, I put my food in my backpack so I don’t drop it. I climb up onto a dumpster, jump to a ledge and climb up a pipe. It wasn’t that hard to onto which made me a little uneasy but nobody would be that desperate to jump from a dumpster to a skinny ledge and then climb up a single, small, water pipe for 5 stories.

I get my food out of my bag, I got what I always get. A cheap burger and a small, curly fries from a small take out shop. But tonight, because I can’t give Waylon his and I already bought it, I get double that, besides the fries being a large, and some nuggets. I was feasting tonight.

I couldn’t eat all of it though, I still had the extra burger, some fries and some nuggets left. I put them back in the takeout bag and into my backpack. I slide down the pipe and jump to the ground from when it ends. When my feet hit the ground I’m met with a voice I wasn’t planning on hearing tonight.

“What were you doing on a restricted rooftop?” The latest Robin’s voice called. I looked his slightly lean figure up and down, rolled my eyes and walked away from him.

“Look, why don’t you go deal with some actual crimes, rather than someone just trying to find a safe place to eat.” He scoffed and started walking the opposite direction. I decided to be extra bitchy, not caring who I’m talking to, even though I could most definitely out run him. “And thanks for putting Croc away too.”

“Why are you sarcastic about me putting away a villain that deserves it? Shouldn’t you be relieved that a threat is off the streets?”

“A threat? Waylon was the only person looking out for some of us kids living on the streets who can’t protect themselves. Those random ‘defenceless’ guys that kept showing up in the ER nearly scratched to death? That was him protecting us. Now some of us have noway to protect ourselves.”

~

After a mini dispute with Robin I was back to my usual activities of pickpocketing random people walking down the street, while keeping an eye out for quiet safe spaces to sleep for the night.

Just like most nights there weren’t really any ‘safe’ places so I decided to stay awake and moving all night. I sighed, I haven’t slept in 4 days and it was really starting to take its toll on me.

I was walking for a while when I finally caught onto a car that has been following me for awhile tonight. I subtly try to look at it to see if I could possibly identify it. I could, it was one of the orphanage coordinators cars. I also notice a police car behind it so I couldn’t try and run again. These bitches are really persistent.

I stop walking and the car pulled up next to me. The driver rolled down the window, it was one of the old and rude coordinators.

Bruce’s POV~

“Look Lee, I already said that I’m not currently in the position to take in another kid, I have enough on my plate.” I sighed talking to the woman on the other line. “As much as I would love to help a child in need, I just can’t at the moment, I’m sorry.”

“Please, Bruce she’s already gotten in too much trouble at the orphanage and is on her last strike.” The hospital where Lee works helps out the Gotham Orphanage by providing free health checks and regular check-ups, so she is often concerned about these kids. “She’s on a 5-strike system, but she’s already run away 5 times Bruce. This was the last straw before they kick her out, please. Even if it’s just for a little while to see how she’ll adapt.”

“Can I think about it overnight?” She agreed and I ended the phone call.

Y/n’s POV~

Here I was back in this horrendous room, just for one night though, they finally want me out. I put my small amount of belongings that were surprisingly still here in a duffle bag then climbed into bed.

I wondered where I would end up being sent, or if they even had anything planned for me at all. It wasn’t long before I drifted off to sleep.

~

One of the coordinators, Jessie, woke me up with a harsh shake and ushered me out of bed and to get changed. She left as I was getting changed so I had the opportunity to slip a pocket knife into my bra, another in my pocket of my shorts, another in the inside pocket of my jacket, and one down my sock but not visible due to my shoe.

I gathered my two bags, had the duffle bag hanging off of one shoulder and backpack on the other shoulder.

“Oh. No, leave them there for now, you’re only going to meet with him.” She said when I opened the door.

“Him?” I asked confused while putting my bags on the bed that was most likely no longer mine.

“Yes him,” she nodded and ushered me out of the room. “He might adopt you, and if he doesn’t then I don’t even want to know where the head of the orphanage is going to send you.”

I merely nodded and followed her into an office where the head of the orphanage, Agatha, and Bruce Wayne were already sitting. Across the table from them there was an empty chair and another on the side of the table, that Jessie had already made herself comfortable in.

“Don’t be shy, y/n you can sit down.” She had said to me, I looked at her and sat down in the chair.

“Y/n this is Bruce Wayne,” she put on one of her big, wrinkly, fake smiles, and I rolled my eyes. Of course it’s Bruce Wayne, I don’t live under a rock, though I might have lived inside of one at the current state of this orphanage, “he might end up adopting you today.”

“Hi y/n.” He stretched his hand out to me for me to shake, I looked to Jessie. Then at his outstretched hand, then at his face. I shook his hand while looking in his eyes and let out a weak ‘hi’.

~

Meeting him didn’t go that well but I seemed to have made somewhat an impression, considering I was now on the drive to Wayne Manor. The drive was already too long and boring, he had stopped trying to ask questions, as I would only give him small mumbled answers.

I looked around the interior of the backseat of his car. I was distracted by something when he said, “I’m sure you don’t need a pocket knife on you, let alone four.”

I was shocked by his words and that he knew how many I had on me, and to be honest, I didn't know why I had four to begin with, it was definitely a little extreme to have that many on me, so I played it off with a shrug.

“I collected them.” I lied, “and I couldn't carry them out in my bag because it got checked by one of the workers, so I kept them on me.”

“You have a lying problem, kid, but you don’t have to lie anymore, you’re safe now.” Was all he responded with as he kept his eyes on the road.

Did he just guess that my lying was a form of protection? He wasn't wrong, but I was still surprised he caught on, how could a billionaire CEO be so perceptive? Was it because he had taken in other orphans and guessed based on their behaviours, or was there more to the story?

[peachdues]

I’m honestly so glad people like you exist and continue to hammer down the fact that censorship is never actually about “protecting” anyone. It’s purely about enforcing the power to remove anything that could cause or is causing “disgust” and fear of the “other”

I think people tend to mistakenly believe censorship is achieved in one fell-swoop. It’s not; it takes time — months, even years to achieve. And it starts with a bill like that introduced in Oklahoma.

It has and it will start with censorship of LGBTQ+ literature and fiction. I grew up in the 2000s/early 2010s. I remember when the GOP’s main argument against same-sex marriage was that queerness was inherently sexual deviancy. And, guess what? It was commonly portrayed that way in media (even as a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it joke). So, what was their messaging? Gay marriage would harm children by exposing them to sexual deviancy. That has always been their message.

Obviously, public representation of queer love changed alongside the SCOTUS decisions of the early 2010s (striking down DOMA and, of course, Obergefell). But the GOP did not change their messaging, really. Sure, they shifted their focus to trans people, but the undercurrent of “sexual deviancy” remained. But they mean it to apply to the whole spectrum of LGBTQ+ identities.

So no, the Oklahoma bill, if passed, won’t penalize people who have ACOTAR on their bookshelves on day one. Because censorship is a slow process. It starts slow — queer books are pulled from store shelves, even though those books have no sex in them, because queerness, according to the far right, is inherently sexual. Queer authors will be sued or, at worst, charged criminally with disseminating “pornography.” Publishers will be sued for having printed it. It will disappear, and the whole time, you will be told “it’s for the children! We must protect the children!”

And when all of that media is gone, do you think they will stop? Of course not. The children’, after all. They will then turn their attentions to books that have explicit content in them for and by adults — because, god forbid, what if a child sees it?? That is how censorship works. And guess what?? That law, the one that looked like it was limited to CSAM, or “obscenity,” already gives them the power to do this. That’s the point of laws like this — they get stretched bit by bit, inch by inch, until suddenly you realize everything is banned and you didn’t see the warning signs. This is straight out of the Project 2025 playbook. They’ve already stated this is the plan.

So, yes, the Oklahoma bill would do exactly as I said it would. Just because it won’t be used to immediately ban all erotic media doesn’t mean it won’t be the vehicle for blanket censorship down the road. Because, censorship isn’t achieved overnight.

[loosethreadsofyoursoul]

i made a tma playlist! it’s one song per fear entity, each corresponding to an avatar or victim (see below the cut for song breakdowns and more yapping)

cover art i downloaded from pinterest - it doesn’t say the artist but if u know who it is lmk !

the buried: like real people do - hozier

pov: alice “daisy” tonner

why were you digging / what did you bury / before those hands pulled me / from the earth

what did jon bury? what was he hiding as she suffocated? what was daisy hiding from before he came and pulled her out of there? did she ever feel like a real person?

the corruption: my strange addiction - billie eilish

pov: jane prentiss

hurts but i know how to hide it, kinda like it / … / my doctors can’t explain / my symptoms or my pain / but you are my strange addiction

and she did kinda like it, she was drawn to it, addicted to it, even with the pain and the detriment to her entire life. the corruption is toxic relationship core and she made a perfect avatar.

the dark: i will follow you into the dark - death cab for cutie

pov: manuela dominguez

if there’s no one beside you when your soul embarks / then i’ll follow you into the dark

i mean, she literally followed maxwell rayner into the dark. for all the good and the bad, she would have followed him even if no one else did. yknow, for cult reasons. but still.

the desolation: agnes - glass animals

pov: jude perry

agnes, just stop and think a minute / why don't you light that cigarette and / calm down now stop and breathe a second / … / a choking rose back / to be reborn / i want to hold you like you're mine / you're gone but you're on my mind

thinking about agnes montague for this song… jude really loved her. and it wasn’t pretty, she wanted control and loved her partly for how she was connected to their god, but the love was there. and i think she always missed agnes.

the end: if we were vampires - noah kahan, wesley schultz

pov: georgie barker

If wе were vampires, and death was a joke / we'd go out on the sidewalk and smoke / and laugh at all the lovers and their plans / i wouldn't feel the need to hold your hand

i considered this for trevor/the hunt bc of literal vampires but like the narrator is a realist in this song which is very much who georgie is. death is inevitable. danger is inevitable. and just because she couldn’t feel fear didn’t mean georgie wasn’t aware of what she had and that she needed to protect it and herself. she wasn’t reckless with her life which is what this song means to me.

the eye: every breath you take - the police

pov: elias bouchard/jonah magnus

every breath you take / and every move you make / every bond you break / every step you take / i'll be watching you

self explanatory. to me. still giggling about it actually.

the flesh: under your skin - jukebox the ghost

pov: jared hopworth

how much can you fit under your skin? / … / i can fit two people under my skin / … / and i can feel you laughing, under my skin / and the happy palpitations are making me… grin

also self explanatory. just shoving bones in there as often as possible. thanks a lot, jurgen leitner.

the hunt: run boy run - woodkid

pov: trevor herbert

run boy run, this world is not made for you / … / run boy run, break out from society / … / tomorrow is another day / and you won't have to hide away / you'll be a man, boy / but for now it's time to run, it's time to run

this song is so young trevor trying to find his place in the world after violently losing his brother to a supernatural being he didn’t know existed and feeling the responsibility of that while also being ousted from society. he never did stop running huh.

the lonely: agoraphobia - autoheart

pov: martin blackwood

tried on 13 pairs of / shoes and not one made me want to / leave this blessed house of mine / that’s just fine / i really don’t want to go anywhere / i don’t really want to go anywhere

i see why this is on so many lonely playlists and it really is martin in mag 170, trapped in that house by his own mind but also by what the house is doing to him. it’s a comfort, but not a good one, very much those feelings of self isolation.

the slaughter: in our bedroom after the war - stars

pov: melanie king

it's us, yes, we're back again / here to see you through, 'til the days end / and if the night comes, and the night will come / well, at least the war is over

i like this song for melanie and the slaughter bc it’s kind of an antithesis to who she is. as long as she has a war to fight, she’s comfortable. she won’t lose everything she’s fighting for. the war may be raging but by god she won’t be the one who loses.

the spiral: strawberry fields forever - the beatles

pov: michael shelley/the distortion

let me take you down / cause I'm going to strawberry fields / nothing is real / … / living is easy with eyes closed / misunderstanding all you see / it's getting hard to be someone, but it all works out

there’s the obvious “misunderstanding all you see” spiral and distortion connotations but for michael, it also was hard to be someone. nothing was real to him either, really.

the stranger: you’re somebody else - flora cash

pov: tim stoker

well, you look like yourself / but you're somebody else / only it ain't on the surface / well, you talk like yourself / no, I hear someone else though / now you're making me nervous

the irony of this song is that. she didn't look like herself. or talk like herself. but to tim, it was sasha, and she didn't make him nervous until the end when he became nervous about everything because of what happened to her. and he became somebody else, too.

the vast: space oddity - david bowie

pov: simon fairchild

i'm stepping through the door / and I'm floating in a most peculiar way / and the stars look very different today / for here / am I sitting in a tin can / far above the world

this song has very clear vast connotations but i also like the imagery of simon sitting far above everyone else. in a literal way but also he thinks he's above most people because of his abilities, so he uses them to cause problems on purpose which is ultimately his downfall. what an interesting, weird old man.

the web: control - halsey

pov: annabelle cane

my mind's like a deadly disease / i'm bigger than my body / ... / goddamn right, you should be scared of me / who is in control?

the thing about annabelle is that all those things are true but. at the point where we get to know her, she's part of something bigger than herself, it genuinely doesn't matter to her whether she lives or dies.

the extinction: love song (for the apocalypse) - ira wolf

pov: jonathan sims

i packed a photo of us from our very first date / you packed the water 'cause I couldn't carry the weight / and into the ashes you carved out a heart with our names / ... / we could say we told you so, but what good is that now

i like this song for jon and the extinction for many reasons but firstly i think it's funny to have jon's song be associated with the only entity that didn't actually mark him. but yeah this song is very jonmartin during the eyepocalypse. everything's a disaster, but they're together, and they endure.

[succumbed-to-the-void]

Everyone has their own theology but you may be interested in "When Bad Things Happen To Good People" by Harold Kushner. He basically gets around the problem of evil by saying that he doesn't think God is all-powerful and there there are some things even He can't prevent.

I'm sure many Jews would see this as heresy, but it was written by a (liberal) rabbi and I think it is a valuable voice in the conversation demonstrating that there's a wide range of beliefs within Judaism. I personally consider myself to believe in God because I feel a strong emotional connection to God, but I have very little intellectual understanding of what that actually means and I'm okay with that.

I do find some resonance in the idea that God made a choice to step back so that human beings could have freedom, and that necessarily meant withdrawing His presence from this world in such a way that suffering was a necessary consequence. However, I think the answer that resonates with me most is this: If there were an answer for why suffering exists, then we humans were never meant to know it; if we did, then the reason would seem to justify the suffering and we wouldn't be able to be present for others in their pain. In my personal view, some suffering is so great that it could never really be justified. So I don't personally find solace in the idea of God having a great plan, but I do find a lot of solace in the idea that God is on the side of the oppressed and the brokenhearted. It gives me a lot of comfort to think that God supports me and cares about me, even if for whatever reason He won't (or can't) intervene. Anyway, I think all your feelings make complete sense and I wish you the best in wherever you go with your Judaism. It's such a personal thing and there really is no one right answer about what to believe or practice.

Sorry this is kind of a heavier question, but. Religious/theistic Jews, how do you still believe in G-d? I desperately want to believe, but it's getting harder lately. My grandfather became an atheist when he saw what happened in the camps. My mother was religious until she started dating my dad, who apparently logic'd so hard he ruined religion for her. Most of my friends are atheists. It seems like I'm the only one that isn't, but I don't know. The idea that G-d has a plan is really comforting, but it seems impossible. How could He let all these things happen? I feel like G-d either doesn't exist, or He abandoned us. And yet, I still pray and thank Him and it feels so wrong to *not* do any Jewish rituals. Do any of you ever feel like this?

.

[utilitycaster]

beau's backstory arc really does take 2 episodes and its not even motivated by beau. its nott why we even go up there. beau, like laudna does not desire to solve anything in her backstory. but unlike laudna she does have current goals (learning to people, learning to monk, impressing her teacher, her spy gig, just learning in general) and future goals (cobalt soul, mage rangling, kid having).

Correct...I'm not sure why you mentioned this? Like, I said as much as well, and that's not a problem because Beau has goals and interests, and she could have still had a meaningful story without visiting her family (though it certainly adds a lot).

With that said however this does feel kind of inadvertently an opportunity to point out the care with which Matt treated character backstory in the Mighty Nein vs. the lack thereof with Bells Hells. Beau said she was taken to the Cobalt Soul and her father paid someone off. She was on the run from her home with no reason to return and plenty of reasons to stay away.

In the Mighty Nein's story, not only is she carefully brought back to her home by a thoughtful interweaving of her and Nott's stories; Matt also looked at her cobalt soul backstory, said "does this match up with the Cobalt Soul as it exists in the world," came to a conclusion of "no, this isn't how the institution generally works," and had Dairon look into it, leading to a very satisfactory conclusion that happened without Beau's involvement but still meant a lot to her! Hell, you could even call it a consequence; Beau complaining about it all the time eventually got through to someone!

For Bells Hells, it was always just "YOUR abilities are ALSO kinda tied to the moon and/or you need THIS macguffin." The shards were nice but like...it felt this was a golden opportunity for Fearne and Ashton to serve as heirs to the titans in a re-binding or proper banishment of Predathos but in the end they were just essentially a variation on Cool Magic Items. Neither of them even did anything significantly Titan-related in the end; the But The Titans refrain meant jack shit. And you know, I felt that Imogen, Laudna, and Ashton's complaints about the gods rang hollow...but what if they hadn't? My argument was always "this doesn't match up with what we know of the gods from all other lore" but I think what is notable is that I wasn't proven right...but I wasn't even proven wrong. What if the gods had addressed this? What if Imogen being a Ruidusborn DID mean she was either beyond the reach of the gods/could not be heard or that they felt it was better she suffered? What if the gods feared what the Hishari had done in terms of resurrecting the titans? What if Ashton were textually unable to spend time in temples, rather than this just being theorized by people desperate to prove the gods were bad?

The problem is that, on some level, improv was barely happening. Matt didn't say Yes And or No Actually, he just sort of barrelled on with his original plans and world without addressing any of the things his players brought up (again, lack of consequences, good or bad) and so we have no real answers, Bells Hells do look like selfish jackasses because in the absence of new information I'm continuing to believe the old, certainly when the characters were so unkind in the end, and everything feels flat, unexplored, and dull as compared to the lively and rewarding and meaningful stories of Vox Machina and the Mighty Nein.

[bvrnesher]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝚰𝐋𝐊

cw: none.

ㅤ୨ৎㅤ🌙ㅤ˳ 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 ! 𝒄𝒉𝒃. 𝒋𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒆 ¡ 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒉. 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕.

﹙𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆! ﹚ꪆ

𝗜𝗧 𝗪𝗔𝗦𝗡’𝗧 𝗦𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗡 𝗛𝗔𝗗 planned; it just kind of happened.

You and Jason weren’t exactly close. You’d see each other around camp occasionally, but you never really interacted, at least not the way you’d wanted to.

Sometimes, though, he’d catch himself glancing your way, finding you at the archery range or just watching you with a small smile whenever he noticed your hair catching the summer sunlight.

Could you blame him? You were probably the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, and he knew his share of pretty girls. But you... He wasn’t sure if it was just your looks or the fact that you always gave him a smile every time your eyes met. That smile? It could light up the whole damn Olympian world.

It didn’t take long for him to notice that every morning, without fail, you sat at the pavilion for breakfast with your half-siblings. And every morning, you had a carton of strawberry milk in hand, no matter what you were eating.

Jason knew today was one of those days when you helped out in the infirmary. The days when you usually skipped breakfast, staying busy taking care of the campers who were hurt.

He didn’t think much of it, just figured it would be a nice gesture—something that might cheer you up a bit. After breakfast, he grabbed an extra carton of that strawberry milk. Not much, but enough to break the ice.

With the carton in hand, he made his way to the infirmary, where he knew he’d find you. Not like he’d memorized your schedule or anything—he did.

When he reached the infirmary, he peeked inside and saw you organizing bandages. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Hey, you're busy?" he greeted gently, lowering his gaze to meet yours. "I noticed you’ve been working hard in here, so... I don’t know, thought you might like a little break." He smiled, charming but a bit shy, scratching the back of his neck.

When you heard him speak, you glanced around, half-expecting him to be talking to someone else. Maybe he’d made a mistake? But no, it was just the two of you in the infirmary.

It took a second for your brain to catch up. Oh. Oh, he’s actually talking to me. Well, that wasn’t something you expected today.

"Oh—no, no!" You waved your hands frantically, shaking your head maybe a little too fast.

Embarrassment flooded you as you felt your cheeks heat up. You gave him an awkward smile.

"I mean, yeah, I’d love a break."

Perfect. That’ll scare him off.

Jason’s smile widened slightly at your reaction, and for a moment, he completely forgot why he was even here. He just kind of stood there, staring at you like an idiot—until he realized you were looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something.

A faint blush dusted his cheeks. He cleared his throat, flashing you a shy but undeniably charming smile. Gods, was this man even real?

"Oh, good," he said, then hesitated, like he was trying to figure out what to say next.

You stood there, unsure how to respond to that incredibly deep, meaningful statement. Your gaze flickered over him, taking him in from head to toe—something he definitely noticed, because he straightened up slightly, looking a little uncomfortable (or more like flustered) under your scrutiny.

Your eyes landed on the carton of milk in his hand—strawberry milk. Your favorite. You raised an eyebrow. Jason Grace didn’t exactly seem like the type to drink strawberry milk.

"Oh, you like that?" You asked with a small smile, latching onto the first topic of conversation that came to mind.

He blinked at you, clearly confused.

"The milk," you clarified, nodding toward the carton in his hand.

Jason mentally cursed himself. He’d completely forgotten to give it to you.

"Oh—uh, not really," he admitted.

You frowned slightly, tilting your head. He quickly clarified, "I mean, it’s good, but it’s not for me." He extended the milk toward you.

Your eyes dropped to the milk carton on his outstretched hand, surprised by the unexpected gesture.

"Oh, thanks," you said, taking the small carton with a soft smile. "It’s my favorite. That’s really sweet of you."

You flashed him a smile. A smile so bright that Jason almost swore his knees almost gave out.

"Huh. Yeah. No problem," he said quickly, trying to brush it off. "It’s nothing, really. I just… noticed you liked it, so I figured you might want one."

"Oh, no. It is something, Grace," you interrupted, "I mean, it’s thoughtful. Not a lot of people would even notice something like that. So, thanks."

Jason smiled, shoving his hands into his pockets. A short silence settled between you before he finally spoke again.

"Need any help here? Looks like you’ve got a lot on your plate."

You nodded.

"Yeah, an extra pair of hands would be nice. Thanks, again."

You shot him a grin and went to open your milk—except, for some reason, you just couldn’t get the stupid thing open. You muttered a curse in Ancient Greek under your breath, still struggling, silently praying you didn’t make a fool of yourself in front of Jupiter’s golden boy.

"Let me," Jason said, taking the milk from your hands before you could protest. Your fingers brushed, and a small jolt of electricity sparked between you.

You had to pray to all the gods not to start blushing like an idiot.

"Here," he repeated, handing you the now-opened carton.

You took the carton.

"Gods, at this rate, the only word I'm gonna say while I'm with you is 'thanks.' And, thanks," you joked, managing to pull a laugh out of him.

"And is that a bad thing?" He tilted his head, looking a little more relaxed now.

You shook your head. "Not at all. Actually, it's sweet. You're sweet." The last part slipped out before you could process what it meant.

He blushed, but you were almost as red as the strawberries you loved so much. Was this a competition to see who could get a deeper shade of red than Superman’s underwear?

He caught sight of your reaction to your own words and tried to stifle a laugh.

"Don’t worry. A slip of the tongue happens to everyone," he said gently. You didn’t need to look at him to know he was smiling.

"Yeah, sure. But I’m not taking it back. Honestly, calling you 'sweet' doesn’t even come close," you admitted, flashing him a smile.

He just stared at you, lost for words, until his brain finally caught up, and then he smiled at you, even more charming than before, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

"Huh, you too," he said, quickly clearing his throat. "I mean, you’re pretty. I mean, sweet... I— Gorgeous," he admitted.

You might have died right then and there, but you would’ve died happy knowing that Jason Grace called you gorgeous. No doubt about it.

"Are you busy tonight?" he asked, finally.

"Nope. I’m free as soon as I finish here." You took a sip of your drink, courtesy of Jason.

ꪆৎ. 1,181 words.

Heyy! This is my first post here. English isn't my native language, so any corrections or advice are welcome.