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captain-huggy-bear · 1 day ago

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To Fight a Ten Year Old

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: N/A

Summary: In which Quinn is prepared to time travel to whoop some ten year old butt because you tell him a story from your childhood and he takes it personally.

Notes: Alas, I did in fact experience this as a child, but I can laugh about it now :) Also writing soccer instead of football actually hurt me.

Very silly + short idea to be honest but hope it brings a smile to some faces!

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

It's a stupid little back and forth the two of you have going as you get ready for bed, silly little questions like 'tell me about your first broken bone' and 'why is your favourite animal your favourite?'. It's something Quinn and you have been doing since you first started dating. It started as a way to get to know each other better and ended up a habit, a ritual of sorts.

Each year the questions get harder to think of as your lives become more intertwined, most of your stories featuring the other, but it still raises interesting moments from your childhoods and silly little stories that explain a lot about you or him. Things you probably wouldn't find out about each other unless you asked these random questions or a family member brought it up at Thanksgiving or Christmas.

Today is no different. You're going through your night routine, taking off your make up and moisturising your skin, while Quinn brushes his teeth in the adjoining bathroom, door open so you can talk.

"Okay..." He's thinking hard, even as he talks around his toothbrush leaning his head out of the bathroom to watch you as you wipe away your eyeliner, "How about first heartbreak?" His voice is muffled around the toothbrush and almost sounds like he's underwater, despite this he never seems to want to wait until he's done.

"Like first heartbreak? Or first proper heartbreak?" You're running a cloth over the rest of your face as you ask, wiping away concealer and blush, an array of colours smearing the fabric. Your skin being revealed bit by bit.

"What's the difference?" He briefly disappears back into the bathroom to spit out his toothpaste and put his toothbrush away, but you know he's still listening as you explain.

"Well, first heartbreak is that time as a little kid that you thought you were in love and got hurt by it but it wasn't serious. You were probably over it by the next week, and first proper heartbreak is when you're older and it actually is heartbreak and you can't get over it for at least 3 months."

He hums as he comes back to lean against the doorframe, shoulders looking delicious without a shirt on, "First heartbreak, probably less depressing for a Monday night."

You take a moment, reaching for your moisturiser as you think back. There are many moments you could think of where you thought you were in love as a litte kid and had your heart broken as a result, but one stands out the most.

"Okay, um...When I was 10 years old I really liked like this boy in class called Cameron but Cameron really liked Emily, a girl 2 years older than us." You can still remember it now, the way he used to sit with her whenever he had the chance, how she clearly did not want a kid 2 years younger than her hanging around, how lovesick he was...how lovesick you were.

"Okay, so Cameron likes a cougar?" You glare over at him as you rub moisturiser into your skin, disapproving as he grins at you, straight teeth peeking out from behind his lips.

"2 years apart at the age of 10 and 12 does not make someone a cougar, Quinn!"

"I don't know, baby, seems pretty cougar-ish to me." You roll your eyes at him as he strolls closer to you, taking your comb in hand and tilting your head forward gently. He's careful as he starts to detangle your hair, careful not to pull too harshly on your scalp, much kinder than your mother used to be when you were a child. Quinn's always careful not to hurt you, apologetic if a tangle pulls too roughly.

"You're ridiculous. Anyway, where was I?" You reach for the detangler handing it back to him as he works, closing your eyes gently.

"You liked a spotty kid called Cameron." There's a hint of dislike riding his voice, even as his fingers are careful as they pull strands of your hair apart, teasing out knots.

Your eyes flash open and meet his in the vanity mirror, lips pursed at the way he insults a ten year old he's never met, "I liked a tall, cute kid called Cameron who was into soccer."

"Yeah, like I said, spotty." The dislike turns to a jealous sort of mumble, matched only by the sour look on his face that has you huffing out a laugh.

"Are you jealous of a ten year old?"

"He's not ten anymore..."

"Do I need to remind you this is a story of heartbreak?"

"Still, should've been me." His hands slide from your hair, comb having been put back on the side, and down to the base of your neck. Long fingers working at the tension there, you lean back into his fingers even as you call him out for his ridiculousness.

"We didn't even know each other! You're absurd, anyway, so I was certain Cameron was my future husband and I decided to be very brave one Valentine's day and get him a card and a gift." You lean a little to the right as Quinn hits a knot on the left side of your shoulder, you sway back into him.

"I'm proud of little you, that's gutsy." He can almost imagine it, little you bravely handing over a glittery red and pink monstrosity, little bows in your hair and chubby cheeks.

"I know, braver than I am now." You're not sure you'd have been brave enough to do something like that now, it had been Quinn after all who'd made the first move, Quinn who'd set the pace of your relationship at the start, "So I get him some chocolates, those stupid cheap heart shaped ones, and I make a stupid card covered in glitter and all sorts. I take my time and I write a heartfelt confession inside and then decided to give it to him in front of the entire class."

"No..." His voice drops, horror filling it as he looks at you through the mirror, mouth slightly open, eyes wide. You nod at him, confirming his worst fears, he knows how this is about to go down.

"Yeah, rookie move. I do it though, I hand it over and then he proceeds to not even read the card and um, rip it up in front of me and the entire class while telling me that he was going to marry Emily."

His fingers still in their massage. In fact, Quinn completely stills, his entire body rigid as he frowns at you through the mirror, there's a silence, long and heavy before he speaks.

"Where does Cameron live?"

"Quinn." You turn in your seat to look up at him, lips pursed together.

"I'm serious where does he live I'm going to go have some words with him," He crosses his arms and there's a brief moment where you're distracted by the strength and definition in his forearms before you really process that he's considering having words with a guy who broke your heart when you were ten.

"About his choices when he was ten?"

"Yeah! Who does that to someone, not only did he reject you, which is an insane decision by the way, he embarrasses my baby in front of the entire class!" Quinn reaches for your hands as he rants, pulling you to your feet, as his fingers twist and twine with yours. You'd think he's just joking but his tone is completely serious and it makes your heart warm, no matter how silly he's being. He's genuinely personally offended on your behalf about something that happened when you were a child, before you knew each other. It's sweet. Silly and absurd, but sweet.

"You can't fight a guy who broke my heart at the age of ten."

"Sure, I can or I can get Millsy to do it." He cracks a smile at that, even though he's serious about wanting words with this Cameron, he's also aware he's being absurd. He tugs you closer by the hands even as you glare up at him like a disappointed parent.

"You are not setting Miller on my childhood crush!"

"Why not?"

"Because it's ridiculous! It was over a decade ago!" Even as you protest you're smiling, arms reaching up to rest over his shoulders and around the back of his neck. Fingers twisting the strands of brunet hair that rest there.

"And, he broke your heart and that's not acceptable, baby, i'm sorry, I have to defend your honour." Quinn palms rest on each of your hips, pulling you in as his fingers curl into your pajama bottoms.

"But, it was a good thing."

"How is that a good thing?"

"Because if he hadn't done that, I might have married him and been stuck in a loveless marriage and then never met you or met you but not been able to be with you." You look at him with a little smirk like you've beat him at his own game, like you've outplayed him in a game of chess.

"So you're saying that I actually should be thanking that spotty kid for breaking your heart?"

"Yes."

There's a moment of silence as he draws you ever closer, leaning down to brush his nose against yours, all soft lidded eyes and warmth. Pliant like a docile house cat.

"I'm not thanking him, I will, however, not get Millsy to fight him." It's mumbled so close to your lips that they're brushing his, an almost kiss that speaks volumes about where his mind is now.

"Good, because I'm not breaking you or Miller out of prison."

"You don't love me enough?" He doesn't even have the decency to pretend to be offended or care as his eyes are heavy, focus on your lips, not your eyes and certainly not on the ten year old he was threatening to set Miller on 5 seconds ago.

"Oh, I love you enough, but I do not have that skill set, honey."

"I don't know, think you could probably charm the officers into letting me out, baby." Quinn brushes the tip of his nose purposefully with yours and you know he's seconds from breaking and just kissing you, he has his tells, his little gestures that have consistently given him away.

"You suggesting I seduce the police now?" You pull back just enough to get his attention, to force a pout from him at the distance, his fingers scrambling at your back to pull you back in.

"...Nawwh, only me."

"You're an idiot." He pulls in you in with enough force that your chests bump with a soft smack, rubbing his cheek against yours just because he knows the stratch of his beard will get a giggle from you as you shy away from the sensation.

"I'm your idiot though."

"Mmm, my idiot." You mumble it against his lips as he finally breaks, self control being ditched in favour of the way you sigh against his mouth. He tastes like spearmint toothpaste, minty and sweet as his lips part beneath yours with a hum.

Maybe heartbreak at ten sucked, but you can't help but be thankful for it when you ended up winning the jackpot when you scored Quinn. So much better than spotty ten year old Cameron.

#huggy bear writes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes/reader #quinn hughes #nhl imagine

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fr0stf4ll · 2 days ago

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A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 4

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 4k

Trigger warning; Blood, pain, injuries.

notes; Hello everyone! I'm super exited on how this story is going to turn (and let me be honest it's probably going to be long, at least longer than the Forger of starlight for those who read it). Still I hope that you are going to enjoy this chapter ! Don't hesitate to comment <3 See you soon !

Link; Part 3

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The next morning’s light cast a pale glow through the clinic’s windows, the faint scent of antiseptics and dried herbs greeting you as you unlatched the doors. You tried to steady your breathing, tried to keep your mind on the tasks at hand rather than on the unsettling knowledge lodged behind your ribs. A mate—Azriel was your mate. Even thinking the word sent your pulse skittering.

One of the healers—a younger fae named Elira, with cropped auburn hair and warm brown eyes—stepped inside just as you finished propping the doors open. She paused, studying your face with a hint of concern. “Morning, Y/N. Are you all right? You look… tired,” she said gently, pulling her shawl tighter over her shoulders. The morning still carried a chill, and you realized you’d barely felt it through the fog in your head.

You mustered a weary smile. “I’m fine,” you lied, voice quiet. The words felt brittle, and you suspected Elira might sense the untruth. But you couldn’t burden her with the chaos pounding in your skull. “It was a long night. Emergencies.”

Elira nodded, sympathy softening her expression. “Did something serious happen?”

“Serious enough,” you answered vaguely. “I managed it, but… I’m still recovering.” You forced your shoulders to square, as though you could physically straighten your resolve. “Do we have the morning’s patient lists ready?”

Elira didn’t press further—perhaps sensing you weren’t ready to talk. She offered a tentative smile and said, “I’ll sort the files. You should rest, even if just for a few minutes.” There was kindness in her voice, a gentle understanding that you were carrying more than you cared to say.

Rest. The suggestion sounded laughable. There was no rest in sight, not with the secret you held, not with Azriel’s bandages and salves waiting for you at the House of Wind. But you nodded anyway, grateful for Elira’s compassion. “Thank you, but I need to tend to something first,” you managed, grateful that she didn’t look offended. Instead, she nodded and moved toward the record room, leaving you to your own thoughts.

For a moment, you lingered by the door, one hand still on the frame. The clinic hummed softly as healers arrived, exchanging greetings, setting up their stations. Usually, this hum would soothe you, give you purpose. Today, it only reminded you that you were somewhere you once felt safe—somewhere you now felt oddly displaced.

You inhaled, drawing in the scent of herbs and polished wood. It was time to go back. Time to face Azriel again, to apply the ointment and ensure his recovery progressed smoothly. Your heart fluttered with a mixture of dread and longing. How would you act in his presence now? Would he sense the shift in your energy, even unconscious as he was?

Stepping out into the crisp morning, you let the door close gently behind you. The sound of the city waking up drifted through the streets—vendors setting out their wares, the faint laughter of children, distant footfalls of those heading to their day’s work. You pulled your cloak tighter, the weight of your responsibilities and secrets pressing against your shoulders.

With determined strides, you set off toward the House of Wind, each step both too quick and not quick enough. You wanted to get this over with, to fulfill your duties, to reassure yourself that he was alive and healing—and yet every pace brought you closer to him, and to the golden bond you didn’t know how to handle.

In the rising daylight, Velaris shimmered with quiet beauty. Its peace mocked your turmoil, but you kept walking, forging ahead, praying the trembling in your chest would ease before you reached the High Lord’s halls and the wounded spymaster waiting within.

With quiet steps, you entered Azriel’s room at the House of Wind. The morning light streamed through the tall windows, illuminating the space in pale gold. You had your supplies in hand—a jar of ointment and fresh bandages, carefully prepared in the clinic’s familiar hush. Your heart gave a nervous flutter at the thought of approaching him again, but duty called, and you pushed forward, easing the door open with a soft creak.

At first, you saw only Azriel’s still form, cocooned in blankets, his wings carefully arranged to avoid pressure on his healing injuries. His dark hair fell over his forehead, his lashes resting against his cheeks. He looked peaceful, his pain soothed by rest and the remedies you’d applied before dawn.

But then your gaze caught movement. Someone else was here—a young woman seated by his bedside, her head bowed slightly as if in prayer or silent plea. She had delicate features, long brown hair cascading around her shoulders. A gentle profile that, when she turned, revealed a face not unlike Feyre’s—similar bone structure, the same warm eyes, though softer in hue.

Your footsteps faltered. Your mind flashed with questions: Who was she? Why was she here? Azriel was asleep, unaware of your arrival. You swallowed hard, feeling the tension coil in your stomach. The golden thread of the bond still lingered in your mind, making the sight of this unknown woman’s hand resting lightly on Azriel’s arm feel like a knife twisting in your chest.

As you approached, the woman looked up, startled yet hopeful. You noticed the worry etched on her face, a sorrow and concern that spoke of care and affection. Without hesitation, she stood, moving gracefully toward you.

She offered a trembling smile, eyes bright with tears unshed. “You must be the healer,” she said, voice quiet and earnest. “I’m Elain. Elain Archeron.” Her gaze flickered to Azriel’s sleeping form, then back to you. “Feyre’s sister,” she added gently, as though knowing her connection might reassure you.

Elain reached for your arms in a gesture of gratitude and relief. Her touch was soft, tentative, but sincere. “Thank you,” she said, and her voice caught. “Thank you for saving him. I-I’ve only just heard what happened. If not for you, he might have…” She trailed off, unable or unwilling to complete the grim thought.

Your heart twisted at her obvious worry, and despite the turmoil inside you, you forced yourself to remain composed. She was worried for Azriel, nothing more. Any sting of jealousy or fear you felt was misplaced, you told yourself. You were here to help, to heal. That was all.

“I’m glad I could be there,” you managed, voice quiet. Your eyes drifted to Azriel’s face, the rise and fall of his chest steady and sure. “He’s stable now, and with proper care, he’ll recover.”

Elain’s grip tightened slightly on your arms, as if finding comfort in your words. “He means so much to all of us,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “We were afraid—” Another half-spoken fear cut short. She swallowed, releasing your arms and folding her hands together. “I won’t keep you from your work.”

You nodded, steeling yourself, and moved closer to the bedside. The world narrowed down to the tasks at hand: checking Azriel’s bandages, applying ointment, ensuring his wounds were clean and healing as intended. Behind you, Elain hovered, her presence a soft reminder that you were not the only one who cared about this man’s survival.

The ache in your chest remained, but you channeled it into precise, gentle care, grateful that Azriel slept on, oblivious for now to all the unspoken emotions filling the room.

As you carefully lifted Azriel’s wing to apply fresh ointment along the fragile membranes, the door opened. Looking up, you expected perhaps Feyre or Cassian, but it was Rhysand who stepped quietly inside. He halted at the sight of Elain, surprise flickering across his features. She stiffened, then dropped her gaze and slipped past him without a word, leaving the room as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t. Her sudden departure hung in the silence, unanswered questions lingering in the space she vacated.

You remained focused on your work, smoothing the ointment gently and checking for any sign of infection. When you were done, you lowered Azriel’s wing back onto the soft padding you’d arranged. He stirred slightly, but remained in a healing sleep. The faint hiss of his steady breathing was the only sound until Rhysand approached, stopping a respectful distance away.

“How is he?” the High Lord asked, voice low. His violet eyes held concern and relief in equal measure—he clearly trusted you, but he needed reassurance. You wondered if it was strange for him to stand here, watching you care for one of his closest friends, after seeing how you worked miracles with moonlight just hours before.

You inclined your head, wiping your hands on a clean cloth. “His vitals are stable. The bleeding has ceased, the stitches and salves are holding up. He will heal, but it’s going to take time.” You glanced at the bandages, ensuring everything was in order. “For the next two or three weeks, he should be extremely careful. Any strain could reopen those wounds, especially where the wings are concerned. If he follows instructions, he should make a full recovery.”

Rhysand exhaled quietly, tension easing from his posture. “Thank you,” he said simply, yet the depth of gratitude in that single phrase was undeniable. He stepped closer, examining Azriel’s peaceful face, the neat wrappings. “I know you’ve done more than what could be expected.”

You offered a faint, professional smile. “He responded well to the treatments. I’ll check on him regularly. With proper rest and caution, he’ll be back on his feet soon.” You paused, hesitant, then added, “He might chafe at the restrictions. I trust you and the others can help ensure he doesn’t push himself too hard.”

A hint of wry amusement touched Rhysand’s lips. “Oh, that will be a battle,” he said, a spark of humor in his tone. “Azriel’s not exactly fond of lying in bed. But we’ll manage.”

As you turned away to rinse the cloth and reorganize your supplies, the High Lord lingered, watching over his friend. The hush in the room was gentler now, as if the worst of the night’s nightmares had passed. In the corridor outside, you heard distant murmurs—life carrying on in the House of Wind, even as Azriel slept through his healing pains.

In a few hours, you’d return with more salves, check the stitching again, monitor his temperature. The routine would help ground you, a steady path forward as you navigated your new role and the unsettling bond you’d discovered the night before. For now, Azriel’s safe and stable state was a small victory, one you both needed.

After you finished tending to Azriel and making certain he was resting comfortably, Rhysand gently guided you from the room. In silence, you followed him through the House of Wind, eventually arriving at his office. It was a spacious chamber lined with shelves full of books and maps, and a large window offered a breathtaking view of Velaris and the mountains beyond.

He gestured for you to sit in a chair opposite his desk and took his own seat with a measured elegance. You settled into the soft cushions, mind still churning with the events of the night before and the morning that followed. Rhysand allowed a brief moment of silence, his violet eyes studying you with calm interest. You appreciated the courtesy he afforded you—allowing you to compose yourself, if only for a breath.

“There is some business we need to discuss,” he began quietly, resting his forearms on the desk’s smooth surface. “Specifically, Illyria.”

Your heart sank a fraction, remembering the plight of the Illyrian females. The clipping of their wings, a barbaric tradition meant to keep them grounded, powerless, had long stained the culture of the mountain camps. Anyone who’d lived in the Night Court knew about it—knew the cruelty it entailed. It made your stomach knot, the injustice of it all. But Rhysand’s gaze was steady, his tone matter-of-fact. He didn’t need to explain the tradition or its brutality to you. You already knew.

He continued, “We’ve made strides in changing policies and punishing those who practice clipping, but traditions die hard. There’s a deep-seated reluctance in some of the camps to embrace new methods, to trust outside help. And while we can enforce laws, people need more than punishment—they need healing. Not just in body, but in mind and culture.”

You nodded slowly, understanding the layers to his request. Illyria was a complex knot of pride, pain, and ingrained habits. Simply banning clipping hadn’t eradicated it overnight. Change would require education, trust, and time. As a healer, you might wield some influence. Heal their wounds, show them better ways, and perhaps, over time, their hearts could soften.

“You’re aware of the situation,” Rhysand acknowledged, reading your thoughtful silence. “I know you’ve only recently returned and you have your hands full with Azriel’s recovery and the transition of your role. Still, I must ask: would you be willing, sometime in the coming week, to travel to Winghaven? Begin there. Examine their current medical facilities—or lack thereof—and train some of their healers. Introduce new methods. Show them what can be done, especially for those who’ve suffered under these old customs.”

You caught his eyes, the sincerity and gravity in them. This wasn’t a small favor. It was a step in a long journey of reform. “I know Winghaven,” you said quietly. “They have rudimentary healers, but nothing on par with Velaris. The conditions are… difficult.”

Rhysand inclined his head. “Indeed. Start there, build rapport, and then move on to the other camps in the following weeks. A thorough evaluation, some training sessions, maybe even demonstrations of advanced healing techniques. Whatever you think might help them trust and adopt new methods.”

Your pulse fluttered, considering what this meant. You’d travel again, but within the Night Court’s borders this time, extending the reach of your healing and knowledge to places that desperately needed it. It was daunting, but also a chance to enact real change. Madja had chosen you not just to heal wounds, but to heal a culture’s mindset if possible. This could be the first step in doing just that.

“I can do it,” you answered softly, your voice firming as you spoke. “I’ll need a day or two to prepare. I should bring some portable tools, samples of herbs, and notes to leave behind. And I’ll finish stabilizing Azriel’s condition, make sure everything here is organized before I leave.”

A hint of relief, and perhaps admiration, touched Rhysand’s features. “Thank you,” he said. “I won’t pretend this will be easy. You may face skepticism, even hostility. But we’ve set certain laws in place—call on them if you must. Cassian, in particular, is familiar with Winghaven and can advise you on how to approach certain leaders.”

At the mention of Cassian, you nodded again, making a mental note to consult him. His insight could help navigate the subtle power dynamics and stubborn pride of Illyrian warriors.

You exhaled slowly, embracing the weight of your new mission. Healing was never just about wounds. It was about hearts, minds, and cultures. It was about offering better ways to live, even to those who resisted. You’d do what you could, and hopefully, over time, your efforts would take root.

“I’ll do everything in my power to make a difference,” you promised, voice steady despite the uncertainty that loomed ahead.

Rhysand’s smile was small but genuine, a touch of warmth breaking through the High Lord’s composed demeanor. “That’s all anyone can ask.”

The hush of the office fractured abruptly by muffled commotion from down the hall. Your conversation with Rhysand froze mid-sentence, both of you snapping your heads toward the door. There was a look in his violet eyes—concern and a steeled readiness—that mirrored your own. In a heartbeat, you rose from your chair, following him at a brisk pace down the corridor.

The sounds led you back to Azriel’s room. The door stood ajar, and you entered to find Elain near the bed, wringing her hands, her face stricken with alarm. Azriel lay on the mattress, his breathing ragged, his skin flushing and mottled as if reacting violently to something.

Elain’s voice quavered, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she pleaded, voice trembling. “He seemed uncomfortable, in pain, and I just thought—my salve… I didn’t know—”

Your heart pounded with a hot surge of anger. This was exactly why you insisted on careful protocols and avoiding any unapproved treatments. “What were you thinking?” you snapped, too concerned to temper your tone. “Applying something else without knowing its properties? Mixing plants can cause severe reactions!” Your voice cracked through the tension in the room, startling her.

Elain’s lower lip trembled as she retreated a step. She looked horrified and remorseful, but you had no time for comforting her now. Azriel jerked under the covers, his wings twitching fitfully. You needed to move fast.

“Get out,” you ordered, pointing to the door. Your command was clipped, professional, but unyielding. Elain let out a small sob and stumbled back, leaving the room in a blur of skirts and regret.

Azriel’s breath came in short, pained pants, his eyes half-lidded. You tossed your head toward Rhysand. “I need you to hold him down,” you said urgently, dropping to your knees beside the bed and flinging open your medical kit. “If he thrashes, he’ll make it worse. I must flush this foreign salve from his system.”

Rhysand stepped forward without hesitation. His presence, calm and contained, would help keep Azriel still. With a nod, he took position near Azriel’s shoulders, pressing down firmly but gently, careful not to aggravate existing wounds. Az let out a ragged moan, wings scraping restlessly against the blankets.

Your hands moved quickly, selecting herbs and tools you’d never intended to use twice in one day. You measured doses with exacting care, mentally reviewing which compounds countered which toxins, which would draw out the harmful concoction Elain had unwittingly introduced. The scent of your preparations soon filled the air—bitter, pungent, but necessary.

Biting your lip, you applied a cleansing solution around the affected areas, your fingertips deft and gentle despite your racing pulse. Rhysand’s voice was quiet, murmuring something soothing to Azriel, trying to keep him calm. Your own heart ached to see him like this, so vulnerable and in pain, especially after what he had already endured. But you banished the ache and focused on your role as healer.

The minutes stretched thin. You worked methodically, using a special wash to neutralize the reaction, applying cool compresses to reduce inflammation. Outside the room, you could still sense Elain’s presence in the hall, her quiet weeping. You pushed that distraction aside, refusing to look anywhere but Azriel’s face and the wounds you tended.

“Stay with me, Azriel,” you whispered as you worked, your tone softer now, though he might not be lucid enough to understand. “I’ve got you.”

Behind you, Rhysand’s gaze bore into your back, silent trust and support emanating from him. He kept his hold steady, ensuring Azriel didn’t thrash off the mattress and disrupt the delicate mending you were attempting.

Slowly, the color in Azriel’s cheeks began to normalize, the flush fading as the compounds took hold. His breathing, labored and strained, began to even out, shallow gasps replaced by steadier inhalations. It would take time, more careful applications, but you could see the signs of the countermeasures working.

It wasn’t over yet, but you’d gained precious ground. You adjusted your grip on another vial, heart pounding with renewed determination. You wouldn’t let him slip away, not now, not after everything.

“Hold him just a moment longer,” you said to Rhysand, voice steady once more. “I’m almost done.”

Once you were certain Azriel’s condition had stabilized, you stepped out of the room, still breathing heavily from the tension of your work. You found Elain in the corridor, lingering where you’d left her. Her eyes were red-rimmed, tear tracks staining her cheeks, her posture slumped with remorse. But right now, you were too furious, too rattled by the near catastrophe, to offer comfort.

You closed the distance between you and her in quick strides, the echo of your footsteps making her flinch. “What were you thinking?” you demanded, voice low and tight. “You are no healer, Elain. You had no right—no right—to apply anything without my approval.”

“I-I was just trying to help,” Elain stammered, voice quavering. Her hands twisted in her skirts, knuckles turning white. “He looked like he was in pain, and I had this salve that’s helped me before—”

“Stop,” you cut in sharply, and she recoiled as if struck. “This isn’t about your intentions. It’s about what could have happened. I’ve seen lives lost because someone thought they knew better than the professionals. A bad mix of herbs, a plant reacting poorly with other treatments—and a patient dies. You could have killed him.”

Tears welled again in her eyes, her breath coming in shaky gasps. “I… I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice barely audible.

You tightened your jaw, fighting to keep your emotions from spilling over into cruelty. “I don’t care who you are to him, or what you think you can do. Right now, Azriel is my patient. My priority is saving his life, not sparing your feelings. And if you ever pull a stunt like that again…” Your voice trailed off ominously, anger vibrating in your throat.

“Elain,” came a quiet voice from behind you. Rhysand’s hand settled gently on your shoulder, the subtle pressure a reminder that you’d made your point. You breathed in slowly through your nose, attempting to calm the fire in your blood.

Elain looked at Rhysand as if searching for reprieve, but found little. His face was composed, yet stern. “It’s best you return to the townhouse,” he said calmly. “We cannot afford any more risks to Azriel’s recovery. Until he’s better—fully better—I’m afraid you’re not allowed in the House of Wind.”

She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it, shoulders slumping further. With a trembling nod, Elain turned away, tears still glistening on her cheeks. She moved off down the corridor, footsteps fading into silence.

You let out a shaky breath, shoulders still tight with residual fury and fear. Rhysand’s hand remained on your shoulder a moment longer, a silent token of understanding. When he removed it, you stood there, heart pounding, your mind already shifting back to Azriel’s condition. He was stable for now, but you would have to keep a closer eye on him than ever.

No more unnecessary risks. No more interference. Not while his life hung in the balance and your responsibility, as his healer, demanded unwavering vigilance.

———

Back at the clinic, the familiar hum of voices and quiet steps on wooden floors welcomed you like a gentle embrace. You’d returned not long ago, having decided you wouldn’t check on Azriel again until the next day. He was stable, and after the emotional whirlwind of the morning, you needed to focus on your other duties, regain your footing in the place that felt most under your control.

The other healers had noticed your tension, though none had dared comment openly. But as dusk settled, while sorting through jars of herbs in the storage room, you found yourself beside Elira—the same young healer who had noticed your fatigue earlier. She had a careful way about her, kind but never intrusive, and you appreciated her steady presence.

She glanced at you from the corner of her eye, tightening the string around a bundle of dried leaves. “Everything all right?” she asked softly, as if testing the waters. “You seem… troubled.”

You exhaled slowly, considering how much to share. “There was an incident,” you admitted, voice low. “I had to step in this morning to save someone who was already on the mend.” You paused, picking through lavender stems. “Let’s just say someone interfered with the treatment, and it nearly cost him dearly.”

Elira’s eyebrows rose. “That sounds serious. Did they mean harm?”

You shook your head, remembering Elain’s tearful face. “No, I think she meant well. But intentions aren’t enough. She mixed treatments without understanding the consequences.” The words tasted bitter, like you were defending your anger yet again. You looked at Elira more directly. “I might have been harsh, but… there was a real risk.”

Elira nodded slowly, a knowing sympathy in her gaze. “It’s never easy when outsiders meddle. Most don’t realize how delicate the balance is, or how small a mistake can undo hours of careful work.”

You busied yourself with organizing a stack of bandages. “What’s harder is… I’m curious about who she was to him. The patient, I mean.” The admission made you feel exposed, but you pressed on. “I know she’s related to the High Lady—her sister, Elain. But what about her relationship to him?” You pursed your lips, scanning Elira’s face for any sign of judgment. “I can’t help it,” you added softly, as if apologizing for your curiosity. “I saw the way she looked at him, how worried she was. It… made me wonder.”

Elira seemed thoughtful. “I’ve only heard rumors,” she said carefully. “He’s one of the High Lord’s closest advisors, part of that inner circle. They’re all very… intertwined. Friends, allies, perhaps more sometimes. Elain is well-known as someone gentle, kind, a bit shy. She’s close to all of them, I think. There’s talk that Azriel and Elain… share a bond, but nothing confirmed.” She shrugged lightly. “You know how rumors are.”

You nodded, your stomach twisting. A bond. The word reverberated in your mind, tangling with your own secret discovery. Could it be that you weren’t the only one feeling something unexpected? Or perhaps Elira had it wrong, and it was merely idle gossip. Regardless, your heartbeat fluttered nervously at the thought.

“I’m not one for gossip,” you said evenly. “I just… I need to understand the dynamics so I can navigate these situations better in the future.”

Elira gave you a small smile. “Don’t fret too much. Relationships in that inner circle are complicated, from what I’ve gathered. All you need to focus on is healing and doing what you do best. The rest will fall into place, or so I’ve learned over the years. Fate has a way of showing us truths when we’re ready.”

You pressed the bandages into a neat stack, forcing a steady breath. “You’re right. I shouldn’t get tangled in their personal affairs.” But even as you spoke the words, you knew the tangled knot in your chest was not so easily undone. If a bond truly existed—be it gossip or reality—you’d have to face it in your own way, in your own time.

For now, you settled for the comfort of the clinic’s routine, and the quiet solidarity of another healer who understood that sometimes, wanting answers was part of the human—fae—condition. You’d return to Azriel the next day, as promised, focusing on his recovery and ignoring, for a few hours more, the silent questions that thrummed under your skin.

Night had fully fallen, and the hush that blanketed Velaris seemed deeper than usual. In your small apartment above the clinic, a lamp cast a gentle glow over the modest furnishings. You sat curled on your couch, cradled under a thick cover, a warm cup of tea balanced on your knee and a book open in your other hand. The scent of chamomile and honey rose with the steam, comforting and mild.

A soft, muffled tap came from the window. You paused your reading, glancing up just in time to see Ydil—the eagle who’d followed you through countless journeys—perched on the sill. His feathers ruffled slightly in the night breeze, and his keen eyes shone with recognition. Without hesitation, you set the book aside and rose to open the window. The chill of the winter air nipped at your cheeks as Ydil hopped inside, letting out a small, happy sound—a rough, throaty chirr of delight.

You closed the window with care, sealing out the cold. Ydil nudged at you with his head, as if in greeting, his beak gently tapping your arm. The affection was unmistakable, and a tender smile curved your lips. “Hello, old friend,” you murmured quietly, stroking the smooth feathers along his neck. He had traveled with you through distant courts and unknown lands, watching over you as you honed your healing craft, bearing witness to triumphs and losses. Now, here he was, comforting you in this new chapter of your life.

You settled back onto the couch, rearranging the cover so that it would fall partly over your lap and leave room for Ydil. He hopped closer, tucking himself beside you with a small flutter of wings, drawn to your warmth and the promise of quiet companionship. The lamp’s glow highlighted the subtle patterns in his feathers, the soft shine in his dark eyes. He was safe here, as were you.

Reclaiming your mug, you took a slow sip of tea, the sweet warmth settling in your chest. The book rested on your lap, its pages waiting patiently for your attention. But for a moment, you just breathed, listening to Ydil’s faint rustle as he positioned himself more comfortably, feeling the soft weight of the blanket, and smelling the gentle floral notes of your tea.

Outside, the night carried on in hushed whispers. The starlight and the faint hum of distant laughter from the city below reminded you that life went on, despite all your questions and uncertainties. You would face them—tomorrow, the next day, whenever fate demanded. For now, you had this peaceful moment: a warm couch, a loyal companion, a cup of tea, and the quiet promise that you weren’t alone, not tonight.

You hadn’t meant to fall asleep. One moment you were reading, the gentle rustling of Ydil’s feathers at your side, the soft lamplight glowing over the pages of your book; the next, your eyelids grew too heavy, and your mind drifted into a gentle haze. The mug in your hand grew tepid, and the words on the page blurred. By the time your book slipped from your grasp and settled lightly against your lap, you were already lost in quiet slumber.

Ydil noticed immediately. With a soft, rustling sound, he slipped out from under the cover. The eagle cocked his head, studying your face as though ensuring you were truly at peace. You looked so tired—no wonder you had succumbed so easily after the long, restless night before.

He hopped lightly onto the arm of the couch, where the lamp rested on a small side table. Balancing his weight with delicate precision, Ydil stretched out and pressed the lamp’s switch with his beak. The soft glow vanished, leaving only the faint silver gleam of moonlight filtering through the window. In that gentle darkness, the world felt hushed, a cocoon of calm around you both.

Carefully, the eagle tugged at the blanket’s edge with his beak. Bit by bit, he pulled it higher until it covered your shoulders, ensuring you would remain warm against the night’s chill. Satisfied, he settled himself beside you again, his head turning as if listening to your steady breathing.

Ydil tucked his wings close, sharing the silence and stillness. Outside, Velaris slept, stars glittering softly in the winter sky. Inside, the quiet companionship of bird and healer spun a fragile moment of comfort—no demands, no urgent calls to duty, no doubts hovering at the edge of your mind. Just rest, and the gentle presence of an old friend looking after you in the deep hush of the night.

----

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starzradio · 8 hours ago

Text

DOUBLE OR NOTHING

after countless empty promises spilled from his lips, you wanted to believe that he’d show up to your anniversary of all things.

FEATURING: toji fushiguro x wife! reader

CONTENTS: non canon compliant/au, marriage problems, talks of divorce, angst, smut, porn w/out plot rly, unprotected p in v, cunnilingus, fingering, spanking, doggy, missionary against a wall, pet names (ma, princess, etc.)

WORD COUNT: 4.9k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: repost bc i need this dilf in my bed rn 😞

"I'll make it home to you by six, mama. Take you out on a nice date, get you some flowers, all that stuff you like. Promise."

The clock was nearing eight o'clock with no signs of Toji coming through the door anytime soon, your own patience starting to run out with every tick. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. The sound echoed through your ears since you'd sat down on the leather couch nearly two hours ago, waiting for Toji to fulfill the promise. A promise that he'd made after flaking out on the date planned prior to that one.

And prior to that one. And prior. It'd been more missed dates than actual ones that he'd taken you out by now—you weren't exactly sure why you'd hoped for tonight to be different. Well, you knew exactly why. Today marked three years of being married to one another. You knew that he didn't prioritize date nights with you as much as he should, but you had held some sort of foolish hope that your anniversary would mean something—anything to him.

The divorce papers felt like a dead weight in your hand, much like how your relationship would be the second that you brought it up. It all just seemed so final, seeing the terms laid out that would end years of marriage. Just by the flick of a pen. But the idea was almost like a reprieve, like something that was worth looking forward to. You shook your head, getting up from the couch to set the stack of papers on the kitchen table where Toji wouldn't miss them.

Another half hour of eerie silence and Toji still hadn't come through the door. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep some semblance of hope that he'd even show up at all, much less for your date. You admitted defeat, slipping off your heels and pulling up a throw blanket over yourself. Succumbing to the sleep that was weighing down on your eyelids.

You weren't even sure how much time had passed when you heard the door swing open, the door hitting the wall from the force. The thud of his shoes hitting the tile followed, a grumble leaving Toji's lips. "Fuckin' bastards rigged that race. Robbed me of fifty bucks," he muttered to himself, slipping his coat off before placing it up on the coat rack.

"You're home late," you called out, watching as Toji turned to look at the couch before flicking on one of the living room lights. "Jesus woman, you scared me," he grumbled, a large hand resting by his chest as he looked over in your direction. Toji rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion lingering on his face like a second skin. It was only then that he looked over at you, really looked at you, and what you were wearing.

Ah shit.

Almost as if he wanted to make the situation worse, he'd chosen to go with, "You got all dolled up just to fall asleep on the couch?" You could've sworn you felt your eye twitch at the question. He'd barely opened up his mouth and you were already wishing that he didn't even bother showing up for the night.

Toji knew he was in deep shit with each step he took into the living room, his mind already starting to work overdrive to figure out what he could do for what he'd missed. A date? No, you wouldn't have put on the very expensive pair of Louboutins for just any date. His mind was blanking on anything other than the numbers that he'd lost with earlier in the day. Come on, think.

"No, I got dolled up because I thought I'd be going out with my husband tonight," you retorted dryly, smudges of eyeshadow sticking to your hand when you went to rub at your eyes. You could see Toji's brows furrow, the wheels seeming to turn in his head for once, before a look of realization settled on his features.

"Look, I'm sorry. I got carried away at the casino," one of the many excuses you'd heard before coming back to bite you in the ass. The same excuse that he'd used last month when he forgot about a work party you'd mentioned to him. Which wouldn't have been too bad if it weren't for all the snide comments being whispered in your direction and all the unwarranted marriage advice.

Advice that you ended up forgetting about chugging down two glasses of tequila like water. "I'll make it up to you, I swear. You can pick the place and all that shit." There went another one. He'd really topped himself using the two of them in a row. You rubbed the bridge of your nose, looking over at him in disbelief. "Do you even know what today was? Why I'm so pissed off?"

"It's your birthday?" Toji spoke after a couple seconds, the answer clearly wrong just by the look on his face. You rubbed a hand over your face, standing up from your spot on the couch. "It's our wedding anniversary, Toji," you spoke up before he made another guess that would just piss you off even further, "And I have something I need to talk to you about. It's on the kitchen table."

Underneath the vase filled with wilted flowers—a collection more than anything that you kept around as a reminder that Toji used to care, was a stack of papers. He placed the vase down on the table with more force than necessary upon realizing what the documents were. "A divorce?" The words slipped out of him with such venom, such distaste, like the idea was unfathomable.

Toji slammed the papers down on the table, the salt and pepper shakers trembling before falling over. "Is that really what you want?" He stepped closer to you when you approached the table, his hands instinctively moving to hold your hips. Holding you close to his body. "No, I didn't get married with the intention of getting a divorce. But you've been neglecting this marriage for a couple months now."

"I'll make it up to you now," Toji spoke quickly, like he was afraid of losing you at any moment. Like you'd disappear if he didn't. And as much as you wanted to avoid looking over at him, the task had just become all that much difficult when you had nowhere else to look at. It only took one glance at his face to realize just what he meant by 'making it up to you.'

"You think you're gonna fix months of pushing me aside with just sex?"

"Nah, I know it's gonna take more. But you've been so tired, isn't that right? So tired of tryin' to keep this marriage from falling apart and nobody taking care of you?" His words were like a siren's song when he whispered them in your ear, your traitorous body leaning back to meet the drag of your fingertips. It was almost laughable at how easily your resolve had melted. "Lemme take care of you mama. Promise I'll make you feel good."

"You wanna call me a dick, never wanna see me again? That's fine, just don't deny me one last taste. Please," And while Toji wasn't a man to beg for anything in his life, he found himself saying the words anyways. "Thought this was you making it up to me," and as much as you were willing yourself not to fold, you felt yourself spreading your legs almost instinctively when his finger dragged up your inner thigh.

"Can't it be both?" Toji's teeth nipped at your neck, licking a stripe up the junction of your neck. Practically salivating at the taste of you, of the expensive perfume you'd put on just a mere hours beforehand. "One could say that you're just being selfish," your words quickly died out when Toji started sucking on your pulse point, your own heartbeat betraying you. You'd expected Toji to sass you back, say something about how your body was just so needy against his touch.

But instead, he dropped down to his knees in front of you. The wooden floor underneath his knees almost made him feel bad for all the times he had you in a similar position. Almost. Toji looked up at you, "Selfish only when it comes to you."

Every slow drag of his fingertips across your smooth skin seemed almost reverent— like you were something to worship. You were, he just failed to realize that until now. Until you were almost out the door. "I'm sorry," the first real apology of the night slipped out of his mouth, his lips pressed against your shin. "I'm sorry," he moved up to your knee, repeating the action. Hushed whispers of I'm sorry's and featherlight kisses moving up your legs, stopping only when he gets to your clothed cunt.

"I'm sorry," Toji uttered his last apology against your cunt, his eyes locking onto yours as he applied an open mouthed kiss on your clothed clit. Barely darting his tongue out, swirling it against the nerves that were just begging for one ounce of stimulation. And he was practically reveling in how needy he made you in the span of seconds. Your back arched to rest against the seat behind you, one of your hands going to rest on his head.

Toji's fingers dragged slowly in between your folds, feeling the wet patch already starting to form through the thin lace material. You refused to make eye contact with him, knowing that if you did, he'd be able to see just how desperate you were in just a manner of seconds. Even if the bastard probably had a clue already. "You sure your pussy agrees with the divorce?" His voice came out to something akin to a purr, the drag of his fingers slowing down.

Getting you even more worked up than you were already. "Fucking hate you, can't even apologize right," you let out a hiss, your hand going down to his hair. Pulling his head even closer to you despite your previous claim. "Fine, I'll apologize correctly," Toji sounded like you were the one inconveniencing him—to which you were. He wanted to take his time with his meal, have you begging for him to touch you. And normally, he would've.

If he weren't desperate to have your cunt on his face again after weeks, months? of just having his fist to work with. His fist and a used pair of your panties up to his nose like a pervert, hips humping the air in desperation. Imagining that it was your tongue flicking across his leaking tip instead of his thumb, that it was your soft hands in exchange of his rough ones. And as easy as it was for him to get laid—he didn't want to be with anyone that wasn't you.

Toji hadn't tasted someone as sweet as you, heard someone so angelic before, but now he supposed that maybe he'd have to put that theory to the test if you left him after all. Just the idea was maddening. That someone else would be doing the same thing that he's doing to you now, that they'd give you the affection that he should've given.

"Especially sorry to you. Been neglecting you for too long," he hooked his fingers around the side of your panties, pulling them to the side just enough to reveal your slick folds to him. Toji swiped the tip of his finger along your entrance, your slick glistening against the harsh kitchen lighting before he stuck in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around it, licking away at it like the slut he was.

And like the deprived man that he'd been, Toji's hands went to the lace of your underwear and stretched it out until a loud rip echoed throughout the kitchen. "You always this wet for people you hate? Or is that just for me?" Toji taunted, pushing your tattered panties down to your ankles. Finally leaning in closer to where you were aching for him to touch you. To do something other than just tease you relentlessly.

Toji settled on his knees behind you, spreading your legs open like you were his favorite meal. His tongue swiped up on your dripping cunt, licking up your essence with sheer greed. "Mmph fuck, so good," his words came out muffled, his tongue swiping across your folds before darting inside of your cunt. Your grip on the table tightened, your hips working on their own accord to push back onto his face. Practically suffocating him in your pussy. Not that he minded. By any means.

Toji practically welcomed it, his hands pushing you down onto his face. Getting absorbed in your cunt completely. "A-Ah fuck, Toji!" You could already see the noise complaint hanging on your front door first thing in the morning. But how could you be expected to keep your voice down? Toji spread your folds apart with two fingers as if he were preparing for a feast, his tongue feverishly licking in between.

"Fuckin' soaked already, knew you loved me," The vibration of the low chuckle that followed his words shot currents up your spine, your ass jiggling all that much more in his face. With such a decadent taste coating his taste buds, dying by your pussy would be nothing short of a blissful way to go out. One of the fingers that he'd been using to spread your folds had been pushed inside of your cunt, your walls clenching around him.

Toji's tongue flicked against your clit, swirling the tip around the bud while his finger slowly pushed further inside of you. The loud squelch of your cunt was the only thing that filled the apartment, everything else completely silent. Your fingers dug deeper into his scalp, a low groan leaving his lips. "F-Fuck, Toji Toji," he pushed another thick finger inside, moving them in a scissoring motion to stretch you out.

"You think y're gonna find someone who can do this?" Toji looked up at you, his fingers curling up to hit that spongy spot inside of you almost perfectly. And if you didn't know any better, you'd almost say that he looked vulnerable while he made the question. Toji's lips wrapped around your clit, gently sucking on it as his fingers worked you closer and closer to your orgasm. You couldn't bring yourself to answer—didn't trust yourself to speak.

"Toji, Toji, gonna cum," you gave him a warning, your jaw falling slack and your lips parting in a o-shape. Soundless moans leaving your lips, feeling that coil in your lower tummy start to tighten up all the much more. With one final pump of his fingers, you were covering his lips with your release. His tongue swiped across his lips, across the scar that he hated, collecting every drop. Savoring what he imagined would be the last taste of you.

"Turn around," It was almost embarrassing how quickly you'd turned around per your soon-to-be ex husband's request.

Toji didn't take more than a couple seconds in unbuttoning his pants and taking them off, his cock hitting his stomach once it was released from its confines. Precum dribbled from his annoyingly almost pretty pink tip, dripping onto the floor. Drip. Drip. Drip. His cock slid through your folds like a slip n slide, your previous orgasm coating his tip with every lazy drag. "Toji," your voice bordered on a whine, pushing your hips to try to meet his movements.

"Tell me what you want," Toji clicked his tongue, one of his hands moving to hold your waist. Keeping you completely still until he got what he wanted. You figured there wasn't any harm in whining—you were already fucking the man after you brought up a divorce. There truly wasn't that much more to lose. "Why do I have to ask for it when you're the one apologizing?"

"Because you're the one pushing your hips back against me. All needy 'n shit. So.. beg."

"Want you inside me, Toji. Please."

"Want?"

You let out a huff before correcting yourself, "Need."

"Come on, doll. You can say it nicer than that, right?" Toji's pointer trailed up your torso, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

So goddamn annoying. You swallowed whatever pride you had left before looking back over at him, "Please, Toji. Need your cock in me. Please."

Toji clicked his tongue, one hand wrapping around his cock and giving himself a couple tentative pumps. "Think you can beg better than that. But since I'm feeling nice, I guess I'll let it slide." So much for feeling apologetic. Toji pushed his cock inside of you in one swift motion, a hiss leaving your lips at the stretch. Even with the fingers that'd been inside of you, nothing could've really prepared you.

"You okay?" Toji dropped his head to rest on your shoulder, whispering the words in your ear. Staying still while your walls tried to adjust to the overwhelming stretch. "You try taking your cock," you muttered dryly, giving him a nod to start moving. "Why would I do that when you take it so well?" Toji pushed the rest of his cock inside, his hands resting on your hips.

Toji wasn't particularly known for being gentle—the one hospital visit after he'd injured your cervix more than enough proof of that, but he started off slow. Slow, shallow thrusts. Fucking you in a way that he hasn't since your honeymoon. "Toji, you can speed up," you assured him, your words getting cut off with a smack to your ass. "What I'd say about tellin' me what to do?" Ah, there was the mean Toji that you recognized.

"Wouldn't need to tell you what to do if my vibrator wasn't looking more appealing right now."

Famous last words.

The change was almost immediate. Mascara dribbled down your cheeks, the sight of your once composed makeup all ruined making Toji's cock twitch inside of you. "Fucking pretty like this, y'know?" His teeth sunk down on the junction of your shoulder, his teeth grazing across the sensitive flesh. His hips snapped roughly into yours, your breathing growing erratic. "Fuck, Fuck, Toji!"

The coldness of his gold wedding band hit your skin as soon as he went to grip your hips, holding you against him like he needed to be close to you. The two of you had been distant for some time and he hadn't bothered to take off his wedding band once, not even on the rare occasion that he actually did happen to take a job. Toji would never admit it, of course—but he was starved for the feeling of your skin against his own.

To confirm that you were still here after all.

Your hands reached out to grab to whatever you could grab—anything, and of course, it just happened to be the divorce papers sitting on the middle of the table. Practically taunting you as your own signature glared back at you. "This good enough for you, princess?" Toji taunted in your ear, his blunt fingernails digging into your sides. "Mhm, j-just like that," your voice came out in a mewl, all bits of defiance completely out of your system.

"There you go. Nasty fucking girl," Toji all but purred in your ear the moment you started to jerk your hips back to meet his own, your ass bouncing with each one of his thrusts. "Just needed Toji to take care of ya," all you could was nod your head fervently, your grip on the divorce papers tightening. And Toji, of course, took notice. He took the papers from you with one hand, giving them a once-over before passing them back over.

"Come on, since ya wanted it so bad, read me those divorce papers," Toji handed you the stack of papers, pointing to where you'd signed your initials just a couple hours prior. Your hands shook as you held the papers, your vision blurry as you tried to make out the legal jargon in front of you. Even the simplest of words seemed all too complicated to try to make out.

"T-Toji, I can't," your voice cracked, your grip on the papers tightening when his cock reached all that much deeper inside of you. Toji clicked his tongue, peering over your shoulder to read the first sentence from the document. "That's not what it says ma, try again."

"Without all the stuttering too."

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to focus on the words in front of you instead of Toji's cock sinking further and further into you. "S-Says that the divorce agreement was made today between us," you clutched the sheets tighter, your eyes almost rolling back when Toji bottomed out inside of you. The tip of his cock dripping precum, your walls fluttering as you tried to get adjusted.

"Mm, yeah, keep goin'," Toji really couldn't care—his focus solely on the way that your cunt stretched out to fit his cock. Leaking around his shaft, loud squelches when he pulled out overplaying whatever shitty soap opera was playing. "And what'd I say about the s-stuttering?" Toji mocked your words, his own hips stuttering mere seconds later while he tried not to get absorbed in your cunt. Not that it was an easy task by any means.

It was hard, especially with the way that you claimed to be over this marriage despite your pussy claiming otherwise. When you opened your mouth to speak, the only thing that left you was a moan. "F-Fuck Toji, right there," your eyes shut tightly at the touch of his calloused hand making itself in between your legs, his thumb rubbing at your clit in a speed that felt like it combated his own running abilities.

"That's not what it says, c'mon," Toji grabbed your chin with his thumb and pointer, turning your head to face the overwhelmingly long divorce papers. You wouldn't finish tonight if he intended for you to read the whole thing, you knew that much. A harsh slap against your swollen clit made the pleasure coursing through your veins mix with pain, a shaky gasp leaving your kiss-swollen lips.

Drool leaked from the corner of your mouth, the black ink smearing with each drop that fell from your parted lips. Your walls enveloped every inch of his cock perfectly, your cunt holding his cock in a vice-like grip. "That I won't try to t-take your things," you managed to get out, hoping that it would be good enough. You knew the two of you wouldn't finish today if he made you read the never ending stack of papers.

"Good enough," Toji sounded like he would've kept it going if he could, but you set them down as quickly as he spoke. It was almost like Toji was trying to remind you of why you'd fallen in love with him in the first place—the man reverent to your cunt and your cunt only. Every grip of your hips kept you closer and closer to his body, almost as a way for Toji to make sure you weren't slipping away.

"Wh—" Before you had the chance to complain about the loss of contact, Toji had already carried you without a smidge of struggle. His hands hooked underneath your plush thighs, hoisting you up against the wall. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his slutty waist, practically clinging onto him like a koala. "There we go, there's that pretty lil face," Toji placed his pointer underneath your chin, taking in the view in front of him.

The glazed over look in your eyes, the sweat beading up on your forehead, the makeup that he'd successfully ruined—everything about you was just so beautiful. How you tried to avoid looking in his direction for too long. "Don't leave me ma, need you in my life," the words were whispered into your ear, his cock pushing back inside of you in one swift motion. Toji's fingers went back to your throbbing clit, his pointer and middle rubbing against it at the perfect speed.

Not too fast, not too slow, and not too rough.

"Don't ask me to do that," you almost sounded pained as you spoke—not from him filling you up, but for the implication of his words. You'd practically babble anything right now, anything for him to keep going. To forget about the reality that awaits the two of you. Toji's lips found yours in an instant, the exchange between the two of you almost depraved. His mouth was feverish in the way that it moved against yours, like he'd never get the chance again.

Your hand went to the back of his head, pushing him closer against you. Letting yourself forget for just a little while longer. A string of saliva connected your lips to his when you pulled away—only to catch air. "I’m close, Toji, so close," you whined against his lips, your release coating his shaft a mere moments later. Toji only used that as lubricant, his movements quicker against your cunt to chase his own release.

"There's no one else for me, I'll stop goin' to t-the casino, stop gettin' into trouble," Toji had been reduced to a babbling the first thing he pulled out of his ass, if only to get you to stay. His head rested against the junction of your neck, basking in the remnants of proximity that he could get. Shaky breaths left his lips with each thrust of his hips, feeling himself getting closer and closer. "You've been saying that since we've been married."

"I mean it this time, I promise," you'd never heard a lie sound so pretty slipping from someone's lips before until now.

He bit down on the side of your neck, hard. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to where you'd probably have to use a tube of concealer to even attempt to cover up the bruising mark. Causing you problems even now. But you'd be lying if the sudden act of possessiveness had your walls clenching against him even tighter, if that was even possible anymore.

His cock was barely moving against the tight grip you held around his shaft, his pace stuttering. "Fuck, fuck, so tight," Toji let out a loud groan, completely at the will of your pussy. He threw his head back, a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks in this lighting. Ropes and ropes of cum decorated your cunt, his softening length snug inside of you. Toji ended up pulling out a couple moments later, scooping the drops of cum that leaked down your thighs with his finger.

Toji was shameless in the way that he stuck the finger in his mouth, a low moan leaving his lips at the combined taste of him and you. Before your rationality came back, before you got the chance to even think about regretting this, you leaned in and crashed your lips against his own. Tasting yourself on his tongue. The kiss lingered between the two of you more than it needed to, it was less rushed than the prior ones you'd shared.

Like a last taste.

"So, you still want to get that divorce?" Toji knew you would've just babbled whatever for him to keep going, saving the question until now. His movements were almost reluctant as he pulled his pants over his legs once again, making little attempt to fix up his hair. If anything, his fingers only ended up messing the strands even more. Despite knowing the answer deep down, Toji still held out hope. That maybe you'd had some eye-opening moment while he was balls-deep.

You stood up properly, looking over at the ruined sheets on the table before looking back over at him. "I do," you spoke after a couple seconds, grabbing your tattered panties from the floor and smoothing over your dress. Trying to maintain whatever semblance of dignity you had left. Even if it was probably just as tattered up as your underwear at this point.

"Why? You know I love you. You know that you love me. So why should we get separated?" You did know that. But you also weren't sure that he'd ever loved you enough to consider changing. To consider the fact that you needed some sort of affection outside of sex.

"Because you think that somehow every problem between us can be resolved with sex. You say that you want to do better and yet, you never do. It doesn't even feel like you're my husband half of the time," all the bottled up feelings from the past couple months spilled out of you in a manner of seconds. All the bottled up thoughts that maybe you should've told your husband about earlier. Though, you weren't even sure if Toji would've paid it any mind.

And almost as if he'd read your train of thought, "Why didn't you tell me about all this before just hittin' me with divorce papers?"

"Because the few times that I did, you told me to stop bitching. That I shouldn't have anything to complain about with a roof over my head and a fridge full of food," you started off, almost waiting for him to deny what you were saying, "And while I'm not saying that I'm not thankful for those things, I also don't want to feel ungrateful for saying that I miss my husband."

Silence lingered between the two of you, each second that passed by only confirming what the two of you already knew by now. That a divorce wasn't such a far-fetched idea. Toji knew there wasn't left to even attempt fighting for, so he simply just told you, "I'll sign 'em when you get the new ones."

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spidermans-l-o-v-e-r · 1 day ago

Text

The Polar Express, 2004

Pairing: Buck x Reader

Word count: 3k

Notes: I don’t think you understand the phone shit I’m going through right now, especially with how I only write on my phone it hurts my FEELINGS so yeah this is not edited and I’ve done my best okay I literally am currently finishing it as I’m typing this

Buck stands at the counter, tapping his fingers against the smooth marble.

“Okay… the cookies are in, the bread is proofing, the cake is cooling, the scones have another 10 or so minutes until they’re ready to be iced…”

He scrolls on his iPad, reading through all his notes and recipes. He was stressed, incredibly stressed, he’d hesitantly asked Athena two weeks ago if he could host Secret Santa and then they’d all migrate over to her place for dinner and presents.

She graciously agreed, it gave her more time to get everything ready and less to stress about on Christmas Day. But now here he is, at one in the morning, the kitchen is a disaster zone that he’s disappointed in because he always cleans as he goes, the cookies aren’t going to have anywhere to cool if he doesn’t get cleaning and he hasn’t even started on buttercream.

Why the hell he thought this was a good idea he doesn’t freaking know, he doesn’t know why he volunteered, he doesn’t know why he put himself through this he doesn’t know why the bag of powdered sugar is on the floor, he doesn’t-

He jumps a little, he hadn’t even heard you pad softly down the stairs, he hadn’t heard you trying to get his attention. It’s like everything just stops as soon as you put your arms around his waist, your hands coming to rest on his chest.

“Buck? You in there?” You ask quietly, you sound sleepy. He takes a deep breath and turns in your arms

“Hey baby” He smiles softly, leaning down to kiss your nose “Did I wake you?”

“Nah, kinda woke up on my own” You rest your chin on his chest, blinking sleepily “You okay?”

“I’m fine, really”

You pull back a little, giving him a skeptical look. His disheveled appearance screams anything but fine. The mess around the kitchen is a little cry for help to sort through the mess that is his anxiety right now.

He just wanted everyone to be proud.

You pull away from him and go over to the little hooks in the corner, grabbing your small pink apron and tying it around you. You grab the matching pink scrunchie with it and pull your hair back.

“What do you need from me, Chef?”

“It would be a big help if you helped me clean up a bit? Maybe watched the cookie timer? And then helped me dip the scones when they’re ready and-“

You come over to the counter and start collecting everything and moving it to the sink, you stand on your toes as you pass and he bends down to peck your lips

“One at a time baby boy,” You tell him calmly “We can handle this”

He melts as you kick your stool in front of the sink and dump everything in to start washing. He always made fun of you for it, but it was easier to rinse from higher up okay.

He sits back for a moment, watching you clean the dishes without any complaining, just…getting straight to work to help him out. He comes over and wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face in the back of your neck

“I love you, so fucking much” He mumbles and you smile, leaning into him a little

“I love you too, you’re doing really good Buck. They’re gonna be really impressed”

“I’m just, I’m so worried things won’t turn out”

“You’re seriously talented Evan,” You tell him, glaring at him a little “Don’t let your brain tell you any different”

“Easier said than done” He reaches forward, taking the dish from you and rinsing it

“This would be way sexier if you were helping me with the bread earlier”

You snicker and push him back a little, grabbing the dish and setting it on the rack

“Just start on your buttercream weirdo”

He takes a clean bowl and sets it up on the stand mixer, with you helping keep things clean suddenly his mind isn’t as cluttered, the cookie timer goes off and he doesn’t even have a chance to turn around before you’re pulling them out and setting them down on the counter space you’d cleared for them.

You check on the cake for him as he’s getting the bread into the oven next and then start on the glaze for the scones. He’s watching you mix it by hand while his buttercream goes in the stand mixer and his heart aches at the sight of you, you’ve got bubbles in your hair from the dishes and a little dash of powdered sugar across your face. You smell like fresh lemons and sweet raspberry scones, and god do you look good enough to eat… he doesn’t miss the tiny pajama shorts you’re wearing and one of his large t-shirts slightly tucked into it.

You reach over and pull the little lever to stop the stand mixer and he blinks rapidly

“You’re gonna over mix it” You warn him before going back to your glaze, he looks down at his perfect vanilla butter cream, his perfect raspberry scones you’re dipping and his perfect cake sitting on the counter waiting to be iced.

And then he looks at his perfect you, and suddenly everything isn’t so bad anymore… that anxious tension between his shoulder blades is gone, that slight tremor that nearly ruined his royal icing borders from a batch of cookies earlier is gone…

“What are you doing?” You watch as he puts the crumb-coated-cake into the fridge, lays a tea towel over the cookies and puts the rest of his dishes into the dishwasher

“We can finish those in the morning, it won’t take long”

You set another scone onto the tray and he hands you the next one, his body pressing against yours, soft and warm…and something hard pressing into your side

“I think you forgot to take one of your spatulas from your apron” you chuckle as you swirl the scone through the creamy white glaze and set it on the tray. Buck pushes your hand away as you reach for another and he reaches into the bowl, scooping up some of the sticky, white, mixture.

“Hey! I’ve still got four-“

Your words are cut off as he slides his fingers into your mouth, his lips ghost over the shell of your ear as he pulls you closer to him

“Clean ‘em up for me baby”

You do as he says, running your tongue over his fingers and sucking them clean, he kisses your neck softly, fucking your mouth with them before pulling them away with a wet pop.

“Good girl”

He unties your apron, setting it aside before taking your shirt off next, his hands come up your sides, leaving a trail of flour. He palms your breasts running his thumbs over your nipples and you let out a shuddering sigh as they pebble under the cool air and his touch

“Every day I fall more and more in love with you” He mumbles, kissing you with a heated passion, his tongue slipping past your lips as you gasp. He grabs your hips tighter and sits you on the counter, stepping between your legs

“I know what you mean” you reach behind you, twirling the honey wand before pulling it back out and letting the sticky substance drip down over your breasts

His eyes widen as he watches the golden liquid trickle down your chest, pooling in your cleavage. He licks his lips, his cock twitching with anticipation.

“Fuck, that's hot” he breathes, his hands trembling slightly as he reaches out to trace a finger through the honey, gathering it up before bringing it to his mouth.

“Mmm, you taste even sweeter than I imagined” he murmurs, his tongue swirling around his finger.

He leans down, his tongue darting out to lap at the honey on your skin, his hands cupping your breasts and kneading them gently. He takes his time, savoring every drop, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive skin.

His hands reach down, tugging on your panties and you lift your hips as he pulls them off. He runs his fingers through your soaked folds teasingly

“So fuckin’ wet for me already, aren’t you?”

He slips his fingers inside you, his thumb rubbing against your clit and you pant softly, leaning back on your elbows as he fucks you, his fingers curl upward and you gasp desperately, letting your head fall back, pressing your back into the flour covered counters. Your hands come up to tug at the roots of your hair, sugar sticking to your forearms as he works you open with his fingers. He pulls his fingers away, licking them clean and you whimper at the empty feeling

“Shhh baby” He drops his basketball shorts and his cock springs out, hard and thick, the tip leaking precum already. It drips down from the tip of his cock and you lick your lips as he steps onto your little stool

“Arent you already tall enough??” You poke at him and he grabs your hips, dragging you to his cock. He rubs his tip through your glistening lips, staring into your eyes with so much love and adoration.

“Just gives me a better angle to make love to you” He rocks his hips, shallowly thrusting the tip in and you gasp, biting your lip.

“You’re so pretty baby” He teases your clit again, rubbing slow torturous circles until he finally slowly pushes forward, his cock sliding deep inside your tight walls. He groans at the sensation, his eyes rolling back in pleasure and you sigh dreamily, your eyes rolling back too.

He sets a slower pace, flour covered hands leaving prints behind as he thrusts slow and hard, his hips kissing yours each time. He growls lowly, a primal noise coming from his chest as he works you on his cock.

His hands roam your body, caressing your tits, your stomach, your thighs, leaving trails of flour and sugar in their wake. He picks up the pace, his hips snapping against yours, the intense sound filling the kitchen and echoing in your ears as he slowly starts to lose control

“Holy shit, Buck” You pant, arching your back up and moaning for him, your heart pounds in your ears in time with his thrusts and you slowly remember the reason you’re always so gone for him

He moans deeply, placing his palms flat on the counter and rutting into you and you whimper with each thrust, your mind spinning at the way he fills you up.

“I want, I want to try something” He pulls out slowly, his chest heaving as he rubs his thumb through your soaked folds. You squirm underneath him and his finger keeps going, your eyes nearly pop out of your head as he pushes against that tight ring of muscle

“You think it’s been too long since we…?” He manhandles you onto your stomach, helping you place your knees on the counter

“N-no I think- I think I could handle that”

“You really think so?” He reaches forward and you just see a jar disappearing from your peripheral vision “I don’t wanna push you”

You put your forehead against your hands waiting with bated breath, his hand slides over your ass, pulling your cheeks apart and your back arches deeper. What he doesn’t know is that this was definitely going to be apart of his Christmas present this year and you’d been wearing a plug all week before taking it out before bed.

“Jesus you’re gonna give me a heart attack with the way you’re presenting yourself” He chuckles lightly. You hear a soft “tink” before you feel the sweet honey dripping over your ass, he moans as it slides down over your pretty, puffy lips and he can’t take it anymore.

You squeak as he dives in, your ass spread wide as he licks at your hole, his moans vibrate up your spine and pretty soon you’re moaning with him. He pulls away, drizzling a little more honey over your hole and kissing your cheek before pulling your legs down so you’re hanging off the counter.

“You ready for me baby?” He spreads your cheeks again and spits, and you squeak. He gives your ass a little smack, smirking

“Earth to bunny”

“I’m ready” you punctuate your words with a little shake of your hips and he takes the honey wand again, drizzling some over his cock and stroking it slowly before lining himself up. He taps your cheek lovingly before pushing into you carefully.

Your jaw drops slowly at the intense pressure as he slides into you. He groans loudly, his palms sliding over your body as he lays against you, his chest firm against your back.

“Feels so g-good Bunny” his hips stutter as he tries to keep from plowing right into you. He works you on his cock slowly, getting you used to his size again and you lay plastered against the counter, moaning softly and taking everything he’s giving you.

“You think you can take me harder baby? Faster?” His teeth are gritted, like he’s fighting even harder now to hold back and that sends a thrill right down to your core. He feels so impossibly big in your ass, stretching you in a way he hasn’t in a good while.

“I can handle it” You reassure him again, eagerly moving your hips on his cock and he grins wickedly

“Thats my slutty little Bunny”

He takes it slow for a minute, working you up to a faster pace before you’re making little squeaking sounds again with every rough thrust. His hands leave sticky fingerprints behind, marking your body with all the dirty things he’s doing to you. He drizzles more honey over his cock as he thrusts in and out, moaning at the little tendrils that stick you together over and over.

You reach out, holding onto the heavy stand mixer to brace yourself as he pins you down to the counter, his hand on the back of your neck

“You're so fucking sexy like this, spread out for me, taking my cock like a good little slut” he growls, his words filthy and degrading, but filled with a twisted sort of affection.

You babble in response and it just drives him crazier, he holds your hips in hands, definitely leaving behind bruises that you absolutely welcome.

Your eyes roll back and you dig your head into the counter, he reaches backward awkwardly for a second and rips a towel from the stove, he leans forward pushing inside you deeper and you cry out his name, your legs shaking.

“I’m sorry baby” he snickers, lifting your head gently and putting the towel underneath it, it’s not much but it’s something. His movements become a bit slower, deeper, and you grip that stand mixer with everything left in you as he makes love to you. His hand slides over your torso, his fingers rubbing your clit slowly, and you let out a shuddering little sigh

“There’s my pretty girl, nothin’ in that head of yours but my cock huh? Love it when you get this way”

You nod dumbly at him and he groans, his head falling back as his hips smack into yours rougher, his finger start rubbing your clit faster and you arch your back and bring your knees to your chest. He holds them in place, hissing at how tight you are around him, his pace becomes erratic again as he loses his mind inside you.

He messily places your hand over your clit and sinks his fingers inside you. You shriek as he plunges his cock in and out of your ass, his fingers working in tandem in your pussy

“Come on bunny, fuck cum for me please, I need to see you fall apart first please bunny please”

His whiny, begging, tone sends you over the edge as you scream his name, tears streaming down your face as your back arches fully off the counter and you squirt over his fingers, he moans your name loudly as he finishes inside you, fucking his cum as deeply as he can into you. He rolls his hips with each thrust before holding it inside you, pushing into you.

You lay on the counter stunned, your body shaking as you let your body turn to jelly underneath him. You weakly wipe at the tears on your face and he steps down off the stool, sliding you off the counter with him and staggers over to the couch. He plops down heavily onto it, before letting his body fall slump down, keeping his arms tightly around you.

You lay together for a while, panting softly in his neck while he rubs your back soothingly, occasionally placing weak little kisses to your temple. He can’t move very much either after that and neither of you have a problem with this.

He’s distractedly humming underneath the tree when he suddenly shifts a little, getting you both more comfy

“I think I broke my dick”

You snort into his chest as he grabs the blanket from the back of the couch and tosses it haphazardly over the two of you.

“I don’t think you broke your dick” you tell him and he scoffs

“How would you know? It’s inside you, you can’t see it!”

“Okay. By that logic, neither can you. Buck I think we’d know if you broke your dick… if that’s even possible”

“Oh it is, I’ve seen it before” his eyes close and you lift your head, looking at his peaceful expression as he starts to fall asleep.

“You’ve seen a broken dick before???”

Suddenly his bread alarm goes off and he jumps, accidentally knocking you off of him and onto the floor.

“My bread!!”

“My kidneys”

#words by rhys #rhys writes #911 x reader #911 fox #911 show #911 abc #evan buckley #evan buck buckely #evan buckley imagine #evan buckley x reader #911 #911 fanfic #rhyskinkmas24 #kinkmas 2024

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sturniqloo · 9 hours ago

Text

° NOTHING ELSE °

pairing: Chris Sturniolo & fem!reader

in which: after a long day at work all you want is to be close to your boyfriend. ♡

~warning: nothing,its all fluff,nicknames,English is not my first language! ~

Wednesdays. How you hated them.

You're currently sitting in your office,having tons of paper to sort out and put into system for company you worked for,the sound of rain hitting the windows,keyboard of your computer clicking as your fingers almost finished all the work,only other sound was little hums you left throughout the time...the sighs,the deep breaths,the melodies that were in your mind.

It was enough of a bad day for you,your period,the stupid rain,the coworkers being annoying..just everything was irritating you,and the tons of work didn't help much.

Only thing that helped your mind ease was Chris..knowing he was at home,waiting for you,made you feel warm and relaxed. He was everything you needed. Nothing else.

As you glanced at the clock on the wall,it was near 01:30pm.

'Just an hour and a half more untill being home.'

You thought to yourself .

Your head pounding and the sudden sound of growling in your stomach breaking the silence. You haven't eaten anything yet,but lunch at home won't be soon enough and at this moment the only thing you wanted was to just lay down,sleep and eat. With a big exhale,you moved the chair and leaned back,rubbing your eyes in exhaustion as your gaze fall to the phone on the desk. Thinking about calling Chris sounded like the best thing possible right now. Without hesitation you picked it up,your finger hovering over his contact before calling him. As soon as he answered you can hear his voice.

'hey ma',what's up?'

'hey baby..nothing..-im just exhausted and bored..wanna be home right now'

Your voice tired and soft over the phone. It was clear you needed rest.

After a long call with Chris,time passed,it was now 2:15pm.

'Ugh,just a little more..'

You said to yourself with a big sigh,wishing the time can just pass as soon as possible.

Fastly enough it was time. The clock hit 3pm. Signaling it was time to go home.

You got in the car and drove to your and Chris's house,opening the doors,the warm cozy atmosphere hitting you immediately,the smell of a welcoming home.Taking your shoes off,and putting your coat away you see Chris waiting for you on a couch,your gaze falling to the table in front of him,with bouquet of flowers and ordered food. You could feel your face grinning into a smile,as he stood up towards you.

'hey baby,m'so glad you're back..finally.'

With a kiss on a forehead he pulled you down on the couch to lay with him.

'how was work darling? anything happened?'

He asked while running his hands through your hair softly.

'no,just ton of works,it was very exhausting today...'

You answered while relaxing into his touch,the headache already feeling better.

'well..we can do something if you want,like go out for a walk or little drive..whatever you feel like doing,im down'

His voice was soft and sincere,always knowing what to say or do to make you feel instantly better.

'mhmm..we can stay home tonight,exactly how we are right now,i don't wanna move,just wanna be like this-close to you..it's all i need at the moment'

Chris instantly got that and just relaxed with you,cuddling you even more and just doing everything he could to be there for you.

'i love you,you know that right?'

His voice suddenly breaks the comfortable silence.The words full of truth and emotions.

'yes baby,i love you too'

The only sound right now was your giggle,you always enjoyed times like this with him.You could do it forever,it was all you needed.

Just Chris,and nothing else. ♡

author's note: sorry if this is not good,or long,but Im trynna get back into writting,i hope you liked it,lmk what yall think and ofc I always take requests! ♡tell me if you wanna be added to my taglist! also wanna thank to @strnilolover my Gabby for giving me an idea,love her so much ♡

° Lili's corner °

no pressure tags: @chrislilcumslvt @chrislilcumslvt @mattscoquette @adoreechxmpion @strnilolover @mattslolita @sturn10log1rl @luvleyangeldust

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blakeswritingimagines · 1 day ago

Text

Party Of Three

Summary: Knowing your boyfriend to take Hockey seriously wasn't new to you until he brings in the winning enemy.

Warnings: Threesome, Top Nico, Top Kirby and Bottom Reader, PnV, No protection, Cumming in reader, Reader being used a sexual bet, Slight marking, Slight nipple play and clit action.

Word Count: 4.8k

After a grueling game, the New Jersey Devils finally emerged victorious against the Montreal Canadians. The locker room erupted with cheers and high-fives as the players celebrated their hard-fought win. Among the players were center Kirby Dach, who had a particularly impressive game regardless of the loss, as the locker room began to quiet down and leave, Nico approached Kirby with a wicked smile. "Hey, Dach," Nico said slyly. "Recall that little idea for a bet we had?"

Kirby chuckled, "Yeah, I do remember that. I believe it's time to collect, my friend." Nico smirked, "Indeed, it is. Let's go find your cute little partner." The two players headed out of the locker room in search of you. As Kirby and Nico walked into the press area, they spotted you leaning against a wall, scrolling through your phone. Kirby approached you with a sly smile, "Hey, babe." You looked up and smiled at Kirby, "Hey, you did great today, even if you seem fine for losing." He chuckled and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, "Actually, I have something to tell you." You raised an eyebrow, "Oh yeah, what is it?" Kirby glanced at Nico before turning back to you, "Well, you see we made a little bet before the game." You looked slightly confused, "A bet? What kind of bet?"

Nico chimed in, "It was about the game. If the Devils won, we had a little something special arranged." You looked at the two men quizzically, "Special? What do you mean?" Kirby's smile widened, "Well, it involves you, babe." You looked even more confused, "Me? What do I have to do with your bet?" You raised an eyebrow, your expression turning curious. "Centerpiece, huh? Sounds like you've got some sort of wager going on here. Alright, let's hear it. What's the deal? And what does it have to do with me?" Your voice is calm but there's a hint of amusement, intrigued to see where this unexpected development leads from the two males around you. Kirby smirked, "Well, the wager was that if his team won, Nico here gets a special evening with us." Your eyes widened in surprise, "Whoa, hold on a minute. What do you mean 'special evening'?" Nico chuckled, "Oh, you know, just a little fun between friends." Kirby chimed in, "Don't worry babe, we wouldn't do anything you're not comfortable with." You thought for a moment, weighing the idea in your mind. "So, let me get this straight. If the Devils won, you two get a night with me? As in both of you?" They both nodded, grins on their faces. You bit your lip, considering the proposition. "And what about you, Kirby? You're okay with this too?" Kirby nodded, his hand still wrapped around your shoulder, "Absolutely. It was my idea, after all. But if you're not comfortable with it, we can forget the whole thing."

You chewed on your lower lip, a mixture of anticipation and excitement coursing through your veins. You knew Kirby wouldn't do anything to make you genuinely uncomfortable, and the fact that he initiated this bet meant it was something he had thought about. After a moment, you took a deep breath. "Okay, I'm in. As long as we have clear boundaries." Nico's grin widened, his eyes glinting with a mix of excitement and amusement. "Excellent," he said, a mischievous note in his voice. Kirby leaned down and kissed your cheek, his breath tickling your ear. "You won't regret it, babe. I promise you'll enjoy it too." They had just arrived at Nico's apartment. Kirby was kissing your neck and Nico was behind you, his lips against your ears. Nico murmured, "Are you ready for this? Are you sure?" You took a moment to consider before nodding, biting your lower lip. You felt a mixture of anticipation and excitement. Nico's hands began to lightly trail over your waist, and Kirby's kisses grew deeper and more passionate. Meanwhile, Nico's hands moved forward, sliding beneath the hem of your shirt, his warm palms brushing against your skin. Your breath hitched at his touch, your heart beating faster. Kirby continued kissing your neck, his lips leaving little sparks of pleasure trailing down your skin. As Nico's hands move further up, you let out a little gasp, feeling the weight of anticipation building. Nico's fingers danced along your ribcage as he slowly lifted your shirt upward. His touch was electric, sending shivers through your body. "You're so beautiful," he breathed against your ear before nipping playfully at the lobe. Kirby pulled back from your neck, his blue eyes dark with desire as they met yours. A mischievous grin spread across his face. "What do you say we take this somewhere more comfortable, hmm?" He linked his fingers with yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. Behind you, Nico pressed closer, his chest firm against your back as his hands smoothed over your newly exposed midriff. The heat of their bodies enveloped you, promising pleasures yet to come. "Right this way," Nico rumbled, his deep voice vibrating through you as he pulled you both to his bedroom.

As you enter the dimly lit bedroom, the door closes softly behind you three. The large bed dominates the space, covered in soft sheets that beckon invitingly. Nico's strong hands continue their sensual exploration of your body as he guides you backwards towards the bed. His lips find the sensitive spot below your ear, placing open-mouthed kisses there that make your knees weak. Kirby steps in front of you, his tall frame blocking your view momentarily. His hands cup your face tenderly as he leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. It starts slow but quickly builds in intensity, his tongue delving into your mouth to dance with yours. One hand slides into your hair, gripping gently while the other traces down your side to your hip. As the heated kiss with Kirby intensifies, you feel yourself being guided backwards until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed. Nico's strong arms wrap around your waist from behind, holding you steady as he continues his sensual assault on your neck and shoulders with lips and teeth. Kirby breaks the kiss, his breathing heavy as he gazes at you with lust-filled eyes. "I want to worship every inch of you," he murmurs huskily before starting to unbutton your bra with deft fingers. Each small movement reveals more of your skin to their hungry gazes. Nico's hands slide around to your stomach, thumbs rubbing circles on your hipbones as he presses himself flush against your back. You can feel the evidence of his arousal through his jeans. "So gorgeous," he growls appreciatively, nipping at your earlobe. As your bra falls away, exposing your breasts to their heated gazes, both men inhale sharply in appreciation. Kirby's calloused hands immediately cup the soft mounds, thumbs brushing over the hardened peaks. He leans down, taking one nipple into his hot mouth and suckling gently. At the same time, Nico's hands skim up your sides to cover Kirby's, encouraging him as he lavishes attention on your sensitive flesh. His own lips blaze a trail of fire down your neck to your shoulder, where he bites down lightly, marking you as his. The dual sensations of Kirby's mouth and Nico's hands send jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You arch into their touches, head falling back against Nico's shoulder as soft mewls of enjoyment escape your parted lips.

Lost in a haze of sensation, your body arches and writhes between them, craving more of their skilled touches. Kirby switches to your other breast, alternating between long licks and gentle nips to the sensitive peak. His hands knead the soft flesh, thumbs circling your nipples teasingly. Nico takes advantage of your tilted head to attack your neck with fervor - open-mouthed kisses, sharp nips, and sucking marks decorate your skin. One hand slides up to tangle in your hair, tugging lightly, while the other maps the curves of your waist and hips possessively. "I love how responsive you are," Nico purrs in your ear, his deep voice rough with desire. "The sounds you make… driving me crazy." Overcome with need, your hands reach out to grasp at their shirts, tugging impatiently. "Please…" you whimper, not even fully aware of what you're begging for, only knowing that you need more. More of their touches, more of the delicious friction, more of everything. Kirby releases your breast with a final kittenish lick, grinning up at you wickedly. In one swift motion, he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your pants and panties, yanking them down your legs. Cool air hits your heated skin, making you shiver. Nico helps guide you to sit on the edge of the bed, his hands never stopping their sensual exploration of your body. He kneels behind you, strong hands massaging your thighs as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. "We've got you, baby," Nico's hands glide higher up your thighs, pushing them apart gently as Kirby settles between them. His eyes flick up to meet yours, dark with promise and barely restrained hunger. "Gonna make you feel so good," he rasps before leaning in, hot breath ghosting over your most intimate area. Nico's arms wrap around your waist from behind, pulling you flush against his muscular chest. His lips find your pulse point, sucking hard enough to leave a vivid mark. "That's it, just relax and enjoy," he coaxes lowly in your ear, one hand splayed possessively over your stomach. Kirby doesn't hesitate, diving in to run his tongue along your slit in one long, slow stroke. He groans at your taste, the vibrations sending shockwaves through you.

Your back arches off Nico as Kirby's skilled tongue works its magic, waves of intense pleasure crashing over you. Nico holds you steady, his strong arms a comforting anchor as your world narrows to the exquisite sensations Kirby is evoking. "Oh god, yes!" you cry out, fisting your hands in the sheets. Kirby grins against you, the wet heat of his mouth never ceasing its relentless assault. He focuses on your clit, circling and flicking the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue before suckling it gently. Two thick fingers push inside your dripping channel, curling to stroke that perfect spot within. Nico's hands roam your body, tweaking a nipple as he peppers your neck and shoulders with biting kisses. "Such a good girl, taking us so well." Kirby redoubles his efforts, determined to bring you to the heights of ecstasy. His fingers pump steadily in and out of your tight heat, curling to hit that special spot inside with each thrust. His tongue swirls around your clit, occasionally dipping down to lap at your juices. The obscene wet sounds of his ministrations fill the room, mingling with your increasingly desperate moans. Nico pinches and rolls your nipples between his fingers, sending jolts of electricity straight to your core. "That's it baby, let go," he urges huskily, feeling you tremble and writhe against him. "Come undone for us." He nips at your earlobe, soothing the sting with his tongue. Your body tenses, muscles drawing taut as the coil of tension in your lower belly winds tighter and tighter. Kirby's relentless stimulation pushes you closer and closer to the edge, your inner walls fluttering around his pistoning fingers. "I'm… I'm gonna…" you gasp out, words dissolving into a wordless keen as your climax crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your vision whites out, back bowing almost painfully as rapture consumes you. Wave after wave of pure bliss radiates out from your core, leaving you shaking and boneless in Nico and Kirby's hold. Through the haze of your orgasm, you distantly register Kirby lapping at your spasming sex, gentling you through the aftershocks. Nico's strong arms wrap around you, cradling you close as he praises you softly. "That's our girl."

As the last tremors of your intense orgasm fade, Kirby slowly withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips to clean them of your essence with a satisfied hum. He crawls up your body, pressing tender kisses to your quivering stomach, the valley between your breasts, before capturing your lips in a deep, filthy kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue, the flavor intimate and erotic. Breaking away, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes dark with satisfaction and renewed hunger. "You're stunning when you come undone like that," he murmurs, voice rough with desire. Behind you, Nico's hands continue their soothing caresses, one sliding up to cup your face and angle your head to the side as he spoke up. "As the winner of the night… my turn." A thrill runs through you at Nico's declaration, your spent body already stirring with renewed interest. Kirby gives you one last searing kiss before moving aside, allowing Nico to take his place between your spread thighs. The hockey player looms over you, his tall frame dwarfing your smaller one. His eyes, usually so warm and playful, now burn with an intense, predatory light as they rake over your naked form appreciatively. Slowly, deliberately, he starts to remove his own clothes, revealing inches of toned muscle and smooth skin. Your gaze is drawn to the prominent bulge tenting his boxer briefs, a testament to his arousal. Once fully bared to your view, he grips your hips, easily lifting you further onto the bed.

Nico settles himself between your thighs, the hard length of him nestled against your still-sensitive folds. He rocks his hips slowly, coating himself in your slick arousal. One large hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your kiss-swollen lower lip. "I want to see those pretty eyes on me while I make love to you," he rumbles, voice low and thick with desire. With that, he begins to push forward, the broad head of his cock breaching your entrance. He pauses, giving you a moment to adjust to his size as he stretches you deliciously. Then, with a roll of his hips, he sheathes himself fully inside your welcoming heat in one smooth thrust. A guttural groan tears from his throat at the sensation, eyes fluttering shut briefly. Your eyes lock with Nico's, pupils blown wide with lust and adoration as he fills you completely. The stretch is exquisite, bordering on too much yet somehow perfect. You feel so full, so complete with him buried deep inside you. Instinctively, your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into the firm globes of his ass as if to pull him impossibly deeper. "Nico," you breathe out, his name a reverent prayer on your lips. Your inner walls flutter and clench around his thickness, savoring the delicious drag of his hardness against your sensitive nerves. Leaning up, you capture his lips in a searing kiss, all teeth and tongue as you pour every ounce of passion into the embrace. Your nails rake down his back, leaving faint red lines in their wake as you urge him on silently. Nico matches the fervor of your kiss, plundering your mouth with his tongue as he sets a deep, powerful rhythm. Each thrust rocks your entire body, hitting that perfect spot inside you with unerring accuracy. His large hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise, holding you steady as he takes you with increasing intensity. The obscene slap of skin on skin and your escalating moans fill the room, punctuated by Nico's harsh pants and grunts of pleasure. He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down your jaw and throat, pausing to suck a vivid hickey into the delicate skin where your neck meets your shoulder. "Fuck, you feel incredible," he growls against your flesh, voice strained with the effort of holding back his release. "So tight, so perfect around my cock."

Lost in a haze of overwhelming sensation, you can only moan brokenly as Nico pounds into you with wild abandon. Each powerful thrust sends sparks of ecstasy shooting up your spine, stoking the fire building low in your belly once more. Your nails dig into the flexing muscles of his back, leaving crescent-shaped indents in their wake as you cling to him desperately. "Harder," you manage to gasp out between keening cries, your voice high and thready with need. "Please Nico, I need… I need…" What you need exactly eludes you, lost in the maelstrom of pleasure consuming you. All you know is that you crave more - more friction, more force, more of this man who is so perfectly wrecking you. Nico snarls in response to your plea, doubling his efforts. His hips snap forward with brutal force, driving into you so deeply it borders on painful. But the sharp edge of discomfort only heightens your pleasure, pushing you closer to the precipice. "Like that, baby?" he grits out, sweat beading on his brow from the exertion. "Gonna fuck this sweet little pussy so hard, ruin you for anyone else." One hand slides between your bodies to find your clit, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves. The dual stimulation proves too much, your inner walls starting to flutter and clench erratically around his pistoning cock. "That's it, come on my cock," Nico demands hoarsely, angling his hips to grind against that special spot inside you with each thrust. Your world narrows down to the exquisite sensations radiating from where your bodies are joined, the feeling of Nico's thick length stretching you open and filling you so completely. The added stimulation of his fingers on your clit sends you hurtling towards your peak at breakneck speed. "Yes, yes, oh god yes!" you wail, back arching sharply off the bed as your second climax crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your sex clenches down rhythmically around Nico, rippling along his shaft as you come undone beneath him. Distantly, you hear him roar your name, feeling his cock pulse and twitch inside you as he finds his own release. Thick ropes of his hot seed paint your inner walls as he empties himself deep within your spasming channel.

As the final spurts of his release coat your insides, Nico collapses against you, careful not to crush you with his larger frame. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, panting heavily as aftershocks course through his body. His softening cock slips free of your tender flesh with a gush of combined fluids. After a long moment, he lifts his head to meet your gaze, eyes dark but filled with satisfaction and tenderness. "Incredible," he murmurs, voice raspy from exertion. "You're amazing, you know that?" Gently, he brushes a few damp strands of hair from your face before leaning in to capture your lips in a slow, deep kiss. It's a stark contrast to the frenzied passion of moments before, this tender exploration before Kirby started pushing him away. You return the kiss with equal gentleness, savoring the slide of Nico's lips against yours. There's a sense of intimacy, of connection, that goes beyond just physical pleasure. When he finally pulls back, you offer him a tired but contented smile. "You're not so bad yourself," you tease softly, running your fingers through his sweat-dampened hair affectionately. Your body feels deliciously used, muscles loose and sated. As the post-coital bliss starts to fade, a flicker of uncertainty crosses your mind. This was incredible, earth-shattering even, but what happens now? Will things be awkward between you three? Before you can dwell on it too much, you feel movement behind you and Kirby's arms wrap around your waist possessively. He nuzzles into your neck, pressing a soft kiss to your racing pulse.

Nico notices the sudden shift in atmosphere, the way Kirby's touch seems to claim you anew. He senses the change in dynamics, the invisible boundaries re-establishing themselves after the intimate encounter they just shared. Though he'd grown attached to you, Nico recognizes that his role here is temporary, a fleeting dalliance. He offers you a reassuring smile, letting you know everything is alright between them despite appearances. "Hey, don't worry about us," he says quietly, reaching out to squeeze your thigh in a gesture of solidarity. "Kirby and I have our thing, and you two… well, you're perfect together." His expression turns wistful for a moment before he schools his features back to neutral. "I should probably get going," Nico adds, beginning to collect his clothes from the floor. "But thanks for tonight. That was something special." As Kirby's lips continue their exploration of your neck and shoulder, you let out a soft moan, overwhelmed by sensations of the aftermath. After a moment, you find your voice, managing to gasp out, "I want both of you… at the same time, though." Nico freezes mid-motion, his eyes widening in surprise at your bold declaration. For a beat, he simply stares at you, processing the weight of those words. Then, a slow grin spreads across his face, and he lets out a low chuckle. "Well, when you put it like that…" He trails off, shaking his head in amusement. Turning to Kirby, Nico raises an eyebrow in challenge. "Care to join me in giving her exactly what she wants, partner?" The air practically crackles with tension as the two men exchange a heated look, the unspoken promise of rough, primal sex hanging heavy between them. They move as one, shedding the rest of their clothing with urgent haste. Nico's cock springs free, already half-hard again, while Kirby's is fully erect and leaking precum.

Your heart races at the sight of the two men, their impressive erections standing at attention. A thrill of excitement courses through you, mingled with a hint of trepidation. You've never done anything like this before, but the thought of being taken by both of them, simultaneously, is almost too enticing to resist. "Yes," you breathe, spreading your legs invitingly. "I want to feel you both inside me." Nico steps forward, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock as he lines up with your entrance. "Hold her steady, Kirby," he instructs, his voice low and husky with desire. With a smooth, powerful thrust, he sinks into you, burying himself to the hilt. You cry out at the intense fullness, your body still sensitive from earlier. As soon as Nico fills you, Kirby moves to position himself behind you. He grips your hips firmly, angling you to accommodate his own throbbing erection. With a swift, decisive motion, he pushes forward, sheathing himself in your stretched, slick heat. The double penetration is almost overwhelming, your body struggling to adjust to the dual invasion. You're acutely aware of every inch of both cocks buried deep within you, the sensation bordering on pain but rapidly morphing into pleasure. "Fuck, she's so tight," Nico groans, his hands bracing on your thighs as he begins to withdraw slowly before slamming back in. Kirby sets a similar pace, his grip on your hips tightening as he starts to pound into you in earnest. The room fills with the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin and your high-pitched moans of ecstasy.

The dual stimulation is unlike anything you've ever experienced, the twin pressures of their cocks stretching and filling you in ways you didn't think possible. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your nerve endings, your entire body quivering with the intensity. "Oh god, yes! Just like that!" you chant, lost in the haze of sensation. Your hands reach back to grasp at Kirby's ass, urging him deeper, harder. At the same time, you lace your fingers with Nico's, using the leverage to meet his fierce, pounding rhythm. The combination of their relentless pace and the way your bodies seem to move in perfect sync has you teetering on the brink of another explosive climax. "I'm gonna… I'm gonna cum again!" you warn breathlessly, your inner walls starting to convulse around the invading cocks. Both men redouble their efforts at your warning, determined to push you over the edge. Nico leans down to capture one of your nipples between his teeth, biting and sucking the sensitive bud as he drives into you with wild abandon. Behind you, Kirby matches his intensity, one hand snaking around to rub tight circles on your clit. "That's it, baby, let go," he growls in your ear, his hips snapping against yours with bruising force. "Cum for us, show us how good we make you feel." Their filthy words and the relentless assault on your senses prove too much. With a silent scream, you shatter, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your pussy clamps down hard on their pistoning cocks, rippling and squeezing as you gush around them.

Your intense orgasm triggers their own releases. With a hoarse shout, Nico hilts himself deep and pulses as he spills his hot seed directly into your spasming channel. At the same time, Kirby grunts and grinds against your ass, painting your inner walls with his own thick ropes of cum. The feeling of being filled so completely, marked so thoroughly by both men, prolongs your peak until you're trembling and gasping for air. As the last waves of pleasure recede, you collapse forward onto the bed, utterly spent and satisfied. Nico carefully eases out of you first, followed by Kirby, both men groaning at the loss. In the aftermath, the three of you lay tangled together, limbs entwined and bodies glistening with sweat. Nico is the first to stir, propping himself up on one elbow to gaze down at you with a mixture of tenderness and satisfaction. "That was incredible," he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "You were amazing." Behind you, Kirby hums in agreement, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder blade. "Absolutely stunning," he rumbles, his arms tightening around your waist possessively. Despite the intimacy of the moment, there's a subtle shift in the atmosphere - a reminder that this arrangement, while pleasurable, is still unconventional. Nico clears his throat, sitting up fully. "Listen, I should probably take off for real this time," he says, glancing between you and Kirby.

A flicker of disappointment crosses your face at Nico's words, but you quickly school your features into a more neutral expression. Nodding in understanding, you sit up as well, untangling yourself from both men's embrace. "Of course, I understand," you say softly, reaching out to squeeze Nico's hand in gratitude and affection. "Thank you for tonight. It really was special." Kirby shifts beside you, his arm draping over your shoulders in a clear display of his own claim. "We had fun," he agrees, his tone casual even as his thumb traces idle patterns on your bare skin. "Maybe we can do this again sometime, yeah? When the mood strikes." There's no pressure in his suggestion, just a gentle invitation leaving the door open for future encounters without commitment. Nico returns your squeeze, a warm smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "The pleasure was all mine," he assures you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested in a repeat performance." He winks playfully before standing up and beginning to gather his scattered clothes. As he dresses, he glances back at you and Kirby, taking in the intimate picture you make. "Take care of yourself," he says softly, genuine fondness coloring his voice. "And don't be a stranger, yeah?" With a final nod to you both, Nico slips out of the bedroom, leaving you alone with Kirby once more. The atmosphere shifts subtly, the easy camaraderie of the threesome giving way to something more charged and personal between just the two of you.

Once the door closes behind Nico, you turn to face Kirby fully, suddenly feeling shy despite everything that just transpired. "So," you start, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "that was certainly an experience." Kirby chuckles, the sound rich and warm as he pulls you closer against his side. "It was pretty incredible," he agrees, his hand coming up to cup your cheek gently. His thumb brushes over your lower lip, the touch feather-light yet electric. "You know, I meant what I said about doing this again sometime. No pressure, of course, but I enjoy spending time with you. Like this and otherwise." His eyes search yours, a question lurking in their depths along with undisguised attraction and affection. "I love you." Your heart skips a beat at Kirby's tender declaration, a soft blush rising to your cheeks. Emotion wells up inside you, warm and sweet and slightly terrifying in its intensity. "I love you too," you whisper, leaning into his touch. "More than I ever thought possible." Impulsively, you close the distance between you, capturing his lips in a slow, deep kiss. It's different from the heated kisses of passion from earlier - this one is softer, more meaningful. It speaks of connection, of belonging, of a bond that goes beyond physical pleasure. When you finally part, you rest your forehead against his, smiling tremulously.

#nico hischier x reader #nico hischier #nico hischer x reader #nico hischier smut #kirby dach #kirby dach x reader #kirby dach smut #nhl #nhl imagines #nhl x reader #nhl smut

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theboredhooman · 23 hours ago

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okay but kame and asa are literally 100% in love i don’t make the rules ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

long post overanalysing and yapping about these two lesbians + spoilers for the ‘mononoke: phantom in the rain’ movie! go watch it right now if you can 👹👹

kame is literally asa’s most precious thing.

asa was soo flustered and didn’t want to tell kame about this, even blushing?? like understandable it’s basically a confession

one of asa’s first reactions was always to check if kame was okay whenever the mononoke appeared

sure, it could’ve just been a friend thing, but asa was constantly looking out for kame in the ooku

defending her and taking the blame for all her mistakes and trying to protect her from harm, standing up to awashima and mugitani

asa i know what you are i saw that blush when kame smiled after you told her she could work with you instead of mugitani (I get you she was so cute tho)

”Such neat handwriting” asa’s eyes were so soft it actually broke my heart when i saw awashima cutting kame’s hair

the well scene….just…

asa trying to pull up kame, and kame doing the same for her

also asa being sort of lifeless while she hangs there until kame tells her that ‘it’ll be alright!/I’ve got you!’ and suddenly she snaps out of her shock, gaining emotions again

also it was so cute when they were talking next to each other at night

speaking of which, kame making asa promise to not let go while they sleep and asa adjusting to a more comfortable grip while holding hand was just; auGHHH 😩

ALSO ALSO “Kitagawa made me realise what was important, what I should never throw away,” and then KAME TURNING TO SMILE AT ASA AND ASA SMILING BACK WITH THAT ADORING LOOK IN HER EYES?? (note: there was also minor foreshadowing here with the empty doll cupboard but i think that had more to do with kitagawa)

and the cut off after saying she needed to say something important was really suspicious like what did she say??

idk how this related but afterwards she became more focused and hardworking on her job(but also more rigid and firm in her beliefs) and kame tipped out her water instead of drinking it (because she became the opposite? more rebellious/defiant maybe? idk)

speaking to the medicine seller, she said she understood kitagawa’s feelings, which makes me think kitagawa also had a thing for her friend lol like there was absolutely something going on there if she(kitagawa) fell apart after her friend left

only mildly related but i believe karakasa’s next target was probably going to be kame and she was used as bait for it (as something a redditor* mentioned was asa may have sent kame away to protect her rather than the reason kitagawa did, OR lure out karakasa) edit: nvm i remembered wrong it was utayama i believe (due to perhaps resentment within the doll’s umbrella*) or asa (following the logic that awashima and mugitani were both the head housemaids(?) favoured by utayama before asa, although again the end goal was probably to attack utayama)

also when asa was addressing the other maids of the ooku before the birth celebratory ceremony and bowed, kame bowed but nobody else did (which means they didn’t respect asa)

then kame got mad and showed her support for her girl like hell yeah 👏 and asa gained more confidence which i think was sweet

oh and asa was also like “the thing that kept me grounded was lady kame” 🥹🥹

she also said (acc. to netflix subs) “And yet, I yearned for nothing more than to share meals with Kame. And spend countless nights just staying up late, giggling and talking to her.” SHE SOUNDED SO LOVESICK 💔

btw love how the medicine seller instantly knew asa was looking for her boo lmao

anyways i think it mayyy not have been requited on kame’s side, at least canonically, but I have literally zero doubt asa was in love with her. then again homophobes and censorship. uh. it’s alright i ship them very hard either way i need more lesbian rep in anime hehe.

in conclusion. Harold they’re lesbians. thanks for coming to my ted talk. yeah o7

*redditors talked about the choice of karakasa as the yokai.(i reccomend reading it, it’s very interesting imo)

#they are THE lesbians bro #i was scrolling through the mononoke tag and frankly there’s a criminal lack of talk about them #maybe it’s bc the movie’s still new and the fandom’s small?#what should there ship name be? asame is cute tbh kamasa sounds like kamala lmao #mononoke asa #mononoke kame #mononoke #mononoke: phantom in the rain #phantom in the rain #mononoke 2024 #asame #if they were in the modern era asa would absolutely listen to good luck babe #long post #kat’s rambles #edit: apparently their tag is #asakame

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antianakin · 3 days ago

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I feel like fan reactions to Naboo and their elected monarch system and Padme's part in it is QUICKLY becoming as onerous as the way fans react to the Jedi and the Padawans.

"Naboo relies on children to run its government"

Does it though?

Two out of the four most canonical Naboo queens we've ever seen were fully adults as far as we can tell. Only Padme and Apailana are actually children, but Jamillia is very clearly adult and Neyutnee doesn't seem to be a child either. Padme makes a comment that obviously does tell us that she's not the first child queen nor the youngest queen ever elected, but this doesn't necessarily mean that Naboo REQUIRES its queens to be children or even that it PREDOMINANTLY elects child queens. As far as that quote tells us, Padme could literally be only the SECOND child queen ever elected. Just because she isn't the youngest ever doesn't mean there was any more than one other child queen elected before her and that one person happened to be elected younger than 14. That's just as accurate of a headcanon to make as the one that says that most queens are elected as children.

We also don't see children in any other positions of power during either TPM or TCW. The governor of Theed is clearly an older man, Palpatine is clearly an adult as the Senator (and Padme herself is an adult when SHE becomes the Senator), and there's nobody else that we ever see other than Padme and her handmaidens who is clearly a child in the scenes depicting Naboo's government. So it seems just a little unfair to claim that Naboo relies on children to run its government. EVEN IF we pretended that it only ever or mostly elected child queens, the vast majority of the people making political decisions appear to be adults still.

From a meta perspective, Naboo having child queens appears to be just another aspect of the message about the wisdom of children (note the clear foil between Padme and Palpatine as two politicians from the same planet, but she is the wise child and he is the corrupt adult). It comes up again in AOTC with Yoda asking the younglings to help Obi-Wan with his question about the missing planet and then saying that the mind of a child is wondrous. It's not some sort of hidden message about Naboo being a corrupt piece of shit hiding underneath natural beauty.

"Padme was raised to be a politician/child queen"

Was she though?

Her mother appears to be an educator and her father works in some sort of refugee organization, neither of them is a politician themselves nor are we ever told that they are, and in the deleted scenes from AOTC, we hear that they're actually not SUPER happy about Padme still being a politician because of how dangerous it is for her and would presumably prefer if she quit her job as a Senator and came back to Naboo to live a quieter life. This is an opinion they're so open about that Padme has to ask Anakin to lie about what he is and why he's traveling with her to try to keep her parents from getting anxious and when he chooses to reveal that information anyway, they instantly start talking about how much they don't like how dangerous Padme's job is. That doesn't sound like the kind of people who would've required or even encouraged Padme to go after a political job as a child. They clearly chose to SUPPORT her political interests early on, but that doesn't mean they RAISED HER with that expectation on her.

Padme appears to have chosen to become a politician and to campaign to be Queen all of her own free will and because she wanted to pursue that path for herself. Why do we need to take that agency away from her? Even if she says she believes she was too young for it and seems to regret the path she chose now that she's an adult, it doesn't mean it was FORCED upon her. The parallel between her and Anakin is RIGHT THERE, they both chose a career path that they believed was what they wanted, but the reality of it turned out to be something different than they thought and they both feel trapped within a cage of their own making. The whole point is that they can LEAVE this cage any time they want, that they made the choices that led them to where they are and they can MAKE DIFFERENT CHOICES if they want to, but some part of them clings to this path they're on rather than embrace the uncertainty of letting it go for something that could make them happier.

#star wars #padme amidala #naboo

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wroetominter · 9 hours ago

Text

Wedding Guests - George Clarke

In which George and Y/n have a history, that makes an appearance at their friends wedding.

Pairing: George X Femreader

Warnings: slight smut

I stepped out of my cab, thanking the driver as I pulled my weekender bag over my shoulder and carried my dress bags into the lobby of the gorgeous hotel Ethan and Faith had decided to get married at. Some of the guests had opted to stay the night before in the hotel block, wanting to extend the festivities as much as possible.

After checking in, I made my way to the fifth floor where my room was located. Walking down the hall I saw my room, 513. Going to unlock it, the door next to mine opened and I saw George Clarke exiting. It had been awhile since I had seen him.

"Hey George" he looked over to his name being called, smiling at me.

"Hello Y/n, lovely to see you." He gave me a little hug. "Let's catch up when you're settled yeah? Me and the boys are down in the bar if you'd like to join.

"Yeah sounds good to me, give me 10 and I'll meet you down there." He made his way to the lift as I unlocked my room.

Noticing my room had an adjoining door to George's, I figured we would end up being a party space for our friends and made mental note to tell everyone when I saw them.

I changed into something more appropriate for evening, a nice pair of jeans and a basic black tank top. After freshening up my hair and makeup, I grabbed my wallet and key card, sliding them into my pocket and making my way back downstairs where I knew I would find everyone in the bar.

I ran into Faith and a few of her friends in the lobby, squeezing her tight and giving her congratulations again and gushing about how excited I was for the wedding tomorrow. She agreed and her and her group made their way towards the restaurant.

Slipping into the bar, I scanned the surprisingly crowded room for anyone I recognized. I jumped as I felt and arm slide around my waist, turning to the side and seeing Arthur TV. "You scared the shit out of me Arthur." I wrapped my arm around his waist reciprocating his previous movements.

"Sorry Y/n, didn't mean to truly. You looked lost I figured you could use a friendly face." He said so innocently I couldn't help but forgive him.

"I appreciate your face" I gave his cheek a little squeeze and he led me to a booth at the back of the room.

I slid into the booth next to Arthur, and then George blocked me in. We sat with Bach, Harry, and Reev for the evening, chatting about everything we had been up to since the last time we had seen each other. I had been so busy with taking on streaming I hadn't been at as many events as I would have liked to attend. It seemed the boys agreed as I told them I would make more time to visit everyone.

"Do you want a drink love?" George asked nudging my side. Throughout this evening he had been scooting closer and closer into me. George and I had an odd history - a flirtationship really. We had always gotten along well, but after the last trip abroad to Spain we had sort of lost some of that relationship. I think in part due to my absence, and also the growing fame he had acquired taking up the majority of his time as well.

"I'd love one. I'll have a"- he interrupted my sentence.

"A tequila ginger ale?" He asked. A smile grew across my face. I nodded and he got up from the booth to go order our drinks.

"He talks about you constantly, y'know." Arthur whispered to me. I stared at him for a second.

"What do you mean?" I questioned.

"He misses you. A lot. Talks constantly about your trips abroad, hanging out with you, everything. I think coming around more would be good for him. And for you." I let myself sit with those words for a while. I missed George too. It wasn't exactly a secret that his wit was charming, not to mention his striking good looks. He really was different to most guys I knew.

A glass was sat down in front of me, garnished with a lime, just the way I liked it.

"Thank you Georgie." I used the nickname I used to call him frequently.

He rolled his eyes, tossing a lazy arm around my shoulders. Normally a friendly gesture, but this time there was a different feeling attached. "You're welcome darling." I felt myself stiffen at his comment. He must have noticed, as he pulled his arm back to his side. I instantly regretted my natural awkwardness and looked back to him, seeing he had a slight blush on his cheeks. I set my hand on his, resting on his leg. A silent reassurance that I wasn't upset with his movements.

The night drew closer to an end, and we all decided to retire to our rooms.

I walked with George, seeing as our rooms were right next to each other. The silence between us was comfortable.

As we got to our rooms, I paused, looking over to George who had done the same thing, meeting my gaze.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier, I guess sometimes I just feel like nothing has changed with us." He admitted, looking down at the floor.

"George - you didn't make me uncomfortable. I was taken aback a little I guess. I'm not used to it anymore either. I'm unfortunately too awkward these days. I didn't mean to snub you." His spirits seemed to lift, his eyes looking up to meet mine. I felt myself back months ago, staring in the same eyes, but the situation much different.

"Goodnight Y/n, I'll see you at the wedding tomorrow." He said, unlocking the room to his door and heading inside.

I sighed, following suit and entering my room.

———

After getting myself entirely ready, the only thing I had left to do was choose a dress. I had brought two, not sure what mood I would be in. The wedding was a formal event, and both dresses would work well for the occasion. I had a brown dress with a slit halfway up the side, and it wrapped around my body, with small sleeves on the top. My second option was a dark green satin spaghetti strapped dress that hugged around my torso, and flowed out towards the bottom slightly.

I couldn't make up my mind. I felt like I was going insane just trying the two of them on non stop.

Giving in, deciding I needed a second opinion I opened my side of the adjoining door. I knocked, and shortly George opened the door. He was dressed in a black suit, looking more handsome than he ever had. I gasped at the sight of him as he opened the door.

He smirked and laughed "I know, I look insane."

"Not exactly the word I would have used, but. Anyway - I need advice. I have this dress" I gestured to the brown dress I was wearing. "And this one" I held up the green one. "And I need help choosing which one I should wear." George eyed me up and down, making me suddenly feel self conscious.

"Try the other one on, I can't envision it." I nodded, shutting the door and quickly changing.

It was my turn to make him gasp this time, as I opened the door. "That's the one." He said, adjusting the bow tie he was wearing. I smiled, grabbing my small bag and tossing my phone inside.

"Thank you Georgie. I knew I could count on you." I shut the door and followed him into the hallway. He held out his arm and I gladly linked mine with his as we made our way to the ballroom.

The ceremony was first, the hall we were in was decorated elegantly and I found a free space in one of the pews. George sat next to me, and I felt comfort knowing someone I knew would be near me. He grabbed my hand, silently comforting me as the ceremony began.

———

I wiped a few stray tears from my eyes as Ethan and Faith said their 'I do's' and they were pronounced man and wife. I loved love. Seeing others happy always made me cry.

They announced that the reception was in a separate room, and they led us to the new location.

We were greeted by ushers, showing us to our assigned seats. I was nervous, sat at a table with people I didn't know very well. I could still see George, the next table away looking much more confident than I felt. He locked eyes with me, eyeing me up and down and mouthing that I would be fine. He knew me so well.

I made small talk with those near me, watching the speeches from all of the loved ones who knew the groom and bride best. It was a beautiful night, and I was excited to keep this party going.

Drinks flowed, and conversations kept everyone in high spirits throughout the night.

An arm slid around my waist, pulling me close. I could smell the beer on George's breath as he pulled me close to him. His hand was resting cheekily right above my bum, the other holding my waist. "You look so lovely tonight Y/n. I've missed seeing you." He admitted. I smiled at him, placing my hands on his chest, he had long ditched the suit jacket, presumably due to the warm atmosphere, or the amount of drinks he had consumed.

"Thank you, I missed you too." He looked like he was about to lean in, but I chalked up to my imagination as he never acted on the supposed movement.

"I'm ready to go back up to my room. How about you?" he asked. I checked the time, seeing it was well after midnight at this point.

"I think that's a good idea." I followed his lead, congratulating Faith and Ethan again as George said his good nights to his friends.

George wrapped his arm around me as we went to leave the room. "Come on!" I heard Arthur call out, George shot him a look, and Arthur simply winked back.

Once at my hotel room door, I opened it, standing in the doorway looking at George. We stood staring at each other for a few moments, the silence building a tension I was sure we both felt.

"George..." I started, building up some courage. "You've been staring at this dress all night, don't you want to see what it looks like on the floor?" His eyes widened and he stepped forward, grabbing my face with both of his hands, pressing his lips to mine fiercely. We stumbled into the room, door closing behind us.

I fumbled with the buttons on his top, eager to reveal his toned chest. He helped with the last few, the shirt falling off behind us as George's hands slid the zipper down the back of my dress, the satin pooling around my feet in an instant, leaving me clad in nothing but my underwear. It felt normal to be this vulnerable with George, despite this being the first time he had seen me like this.

He unbuttoned his trousers, sliding them off and grabbing me by the legs, pulling me onto the bed straddling his lap. I could feel the bulge growing in his pants, and I knew I was about to be in for an exciting night.

“I can’t tell you how long I have been waiting for this invitation” he kissed me softly, holding me close.

This was more than just physical for me, and now I felt it may be for him as well. I played with the hair at the nape of his neck as he kissed me.

“I wish we would have started this in Spain.” He smiled into the kiss, hooking his fingers into my underwear and flipping us over, sliding them down my legs and discarding them somewhere on the floor.

“We have a lot of catching up to do, don’t we?” He breathed hot air where I needed him most. My heart raced in anticipation, feeling him push my legs apart, leaning in and swiping his tongue over my core. My back arched up in pleasure, meeting his face as he began his work on me.

My hands were tangled in his hair as his tongue drew circles, bringing my pleasure higher and higher. I gasped as he slid his fingers inside me, curling and pushing in and out of me, driving me closer to my peak. “George, please,” I begged, needing this release more than I needed my next breath.

He kept his pace, bringing my orgasm crashing over me. My breath jagged and rough as I rode out my orgasm. He sat up, smirking at the state he had me in. I sat myself up on my elbows, staring at him. His chest had small beads of sweat on it, and my eyes trailed lower, fixating them on his pants, the outline of his penis threatening to escape from how hard he was. “George”

“Yes darling?” He leaned in closer.

“I’m yours.” That was all he needed. He pulled his pants down, releasing his erection. I needed him.

He leaned down to kiss me again, lining himself up with my vagina, and pushing in as he kissed me. He was better than I could have imagined. His pace was perfect, thrusting in and out at a perfect rhythm. He kissed me, whispering sweet nothings into my ear as he worked his magic.

I could tell he was getting closer, as his thrusts became more erratic. He pulled out abruptly, flipping to his back and taking himself in his hand, giving himself the final few pumps he needed to finish. The sight was probably one of the hottest things I had ever witnessed.

We laid there in a comfortable silence, both panting. I decided I should help George, getting up and grabbing a towel to clean him up.

I laid myself into him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“I like you, Y/n.” He said softly.

I laughed, holding myself up to look at him. He stared back at me, looking nervous at my laughter at his admission.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. I just, I like you to George. It just felt obvious from the last fifteen minutes.” It was his turn to laugh. He wrapped his strong arms around me and kissed me again, and again, and again.

“I just wanted to hear you say it.”

A knock on the door startled us from the moment we were having.

“Who on earth could that be?” I whispered.

“If I had to guess, probably Arthur.” George said, getting up and pulling his pants and top back on.

I wrapped the duvet over my body, shielding myself from the door.

George cracked the door slightly, and I could barely hear the whispers being exchanged.

George returned to the bed, taking his top back off and sliding in next to me, cuddling into my side.

“Arthur?” I asked him.

He sighed. “Unfortunately. He was making sure I finally admitted feelings for you.” I laughed.

“We’ll spare him the horny details.” I said, kissing his cheek and laying on his chest.

The details of this night could stay between us, for now.

#wroetominterimagines #george clarkeey #george clarkey #george clarke #george clarke fics #george clarke fluff #arthurtv #imagine

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sirxlla · 1 day ago

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Video Games & Phone Calls

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

Warnings: Use of Y/N, Yelling.

Prompt: Evan's playing video games but you want attention.

Notes: Female Reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

Ever since Eddie moved to Texas Evan and Eddie have been calling constantly and playing video games cause they miss their best friends which is understandable but you want attention too, probably a bit jealous right now but we wont mention that.

You walked through the living room whining and groaning. He didnt notice.

You walked through the house infront of him your panties. He hadnt noticed.

You made him dinner...he didnt even look away from his game, he gave you a automated sort of yes.

"No, they're right there! Be careful Eddie they're on the- ...roof." He laughed a bit as Eddie and him died on the game.

"Hey, Can I play with-" You started asking cause you felt really left out and he wasn't really paying attention to you.

"Yeah, we can definitely play another round. Y/N's probably gonna go to bed soon." Evan had told Eddie through the headset.

You hadnt planned on going to bed? Sleep could wait, You wanted to hang out with him. It's been two weeks of this shit and you could barely get anything from him.

"I'm not going to bed." Again he must not've heard you cause he was laughing at something Eddie said through the headset. You knew even though he had headphones on he could hear you. You knew that cause you've borrowed them to play online with your friends over here before.

"EVAN ANTHONY BUCKLEY!" That mafe his head shoot over to you, he hadn't noticed you were standing right there trying to talk to him. You were pissed and rightfully so, he had been pushing you to the side for weeks. You understood he missed Eddie but fuckin hell!

His face had went white like paper, he had realized you called out to him a few times and his brain automatically tuned you out so ge could talk to Eddie.

"Eddie, I'm gonna let you go." He knew he was in trouble, he knew exactly why for at least tonight's issue. It was clear to you though Evan didnt understand this had been building up for weeks.

"I have been talking to you." You tried not to sound annoyed or hurt because you didnt wanna admit it to yourself. Yelling at Buck never felt good, you never wanted to hurt him or hus feelings. You tried not to feel upset but by the tension in your chest you could tell you were.

"I know, I just- Eddie and I were playing games." Buck tried to explain but the pair of you knew just exactly how that was an understatement.

"You...you knew?" You were pissed and hurt at the same time as soon as you heard he'd basically been ignoring you on purpose.

"I- I didnt mean it." He probably truly didnt but over the past two weeks he had built up a habit of ignoring you cause he was focused on his best friend and what was practically his nephew.

"You didn't mean it?" You asked as tears started pouring down your face.

"I have asked you for attention and I have asked both to play and- You both ignored me. I know he can hear me. So not only does it suck cause my boyfriend's ignoring me but so is someone I considered a friend." You let out a sob. Just needed a bit of validation is all you needed after such a shitty few weeks, tears poured down your cheeks and little sniffles came out as you tried to not make a mess of yourself.

"I- Oh, God...I- I'm so sorry, Baby." Buck's arms wrapped around you as you cried, the sobbing had only gotten worse as he hugged you.

He felt like a complete asshole...of course he missed Eddie but it wasnt an excuse. In missing Eddie and being so worried about him he had been missing the woman right next to him, the one who took care of him and slept next to him.

Evan's arms wrapped around you and he pulled you into his lap as he held you close and rubbed your back. Your sobs slowly came down but the disappointment in himself was at an all time high.

He just kept rubbing your back until he felt you fall asleep. God, he felt so awful. Evan just laid the both of you down onto the couch. He covered the both of you up with the your blanket that you left on the couch.

Evan couldn't sleep, he couldnt understand how in hell he ever could ignore such an amazing woman. He missed Eddie but again the wasn't an excuse and he should've noticed or at least invited you to play with him and Eddie.

"Goddamn it, I'm so sorry....I'm so sorry, Honey." Buck told you even though you were sound asleep. He just held you and promised you and himself silently that he would never do that sorta thing again.

(Send me prompts if you want)

Masterlist

#evan buckley x reader #evan buckley #911 show #911 on fox #911 abc #oliver stark

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kybercrystals94 · 12 hours ago

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Of Scene Breaks and Plot Twists

Read here on Ao3!

Rated: G | Words: 2256 | Summary: The members of Clone Force 99 have an unwanted guest.

A/N: For Christmas, I wrote an entirely unserious, indulgent little fic because I can…so I did.

I am totally making fun of myself with this fic…apologies to the characters for not always (read: rarely) having a plan when I write.

I dedicate this story to every fanfic writer I know and don’t. May you never cease to amaze with your creativity and dedication to the art…you are a gift to the communities you partake in.

“Alright, boys, settle down,” Hunter says, walking into the cockpit. “We’ve got our next mission.”

“Do we actually get to blow something up this time?” Wrecker asks, sitting up in the seat he was slouching in.

Crosshair takes out his toothpick and flicks it at Wrecker, the sliver of wood bouncing harmlessly off the giant’s shoulder. “Or shoot something?”

“We have been on three consecutive data retrieval missions with no enemy engagement,” Tech states.

Echo points out, “Which is a good thing. It means we did our job well.”

“It means they were boring!” Wrecker declares.

Tech and Crosshair nod.

“I won’t promise anything,” Hunter says, grinning, “However, there is a high probability of explosions and shooting taking place this time around.”

The news receives reactive sounds of approval from most of the members of Clone Force 99. However, Echo isn’t fooling anyone with his eye roll. He’s been craving action as much as any of his brothers.

“So, what is it?” Echo asks.

“What’s what?” Hunter asks.

Echo frowns at him. “The mission?”

Hunter looks down at the data pad in his hand. “I…I don’t know. Nothing’s come through.”

“But you just said–”

“Sorry, sorry! That’s my fault,” I say, pushing myself up from the wall I was leaning against. “I’m sorta writing this as I go. I have no idea what your mission is yet. The keyword here is yet, because I’m sure it will come to me as we go.”

I’m honestly not sure what sort of reaction I expected, but five blasters pulled on me was not on the agenda. I put my hands up, heart battering in my throat. “Woah, woah, hey!” I cry, “Don’t shoot!”

“Who are you and how did you get on our ship?” Hunter growls, blaster still carefully poised to take me out if I make any wrong move.

I swallow. “I’m a fanfic writer. I’m the one writing this story.”

Oh. This is my story. Ha, sorta forgot that I can just…

The Batch lower their weapons with bewildered expressions, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

“What just happened?” Wrecker asks. “Why’d we all lower our blasters like that?”

“I told you, I’m writing this story. I’m a fanfic writer,” I say, and, bolstered by my own abilities, I walk over and take a seat in behind Tech, turning the chair to face my darling characters. Aww, they look so sweet when they’re confused.

“You’re using some sort of mind trick,” Tech tells me. “You’re a Force user.”

I laugh. “I wish, but no. I’m just a humble fanfic writer, I promise.”

“You obviously know we don’t understand what that means,” Hunter says, and he sounds so annoyed. A little Crosshair-like, if I’m being honest. “So explain it. Now.”

Bossy.

“Fine,” I sigh, reaching in my back pocket and pulling out my phone.

Tech’s eyes light up, and I can tell he wants to ask about it; however, a sharp look from Hunter makes him settle back in the pilot’s chair. I make a mental note to show it to him once I’ve calmed everybody down.

For the sake of my gentle reader, I won’t get into the vaguely detailed explanation I gave the boys. It did not go well, and nobody calmed down. After all, how do you explain that someone’s reality and existence is fictional in your reality…without giving them spoilers for their futures? Then you would have to get into fix-its and canon and head canon and all that complicated jargon. Suffice to say, I had to again utilize my writing power to make them sit down and shut up for two seconds while I assured them that their lives were very much “real”, and that I am just trying to share one of their stories with my world…and also that I am making it up on the fly.

“I would like to study these works of fiction,” Tech says.

I ensure my phone is locked and secured in my pocket. “Mmm…maybe later.”

“So, basically,” Crosshair says, and somehow he manages to sound genuine and sarcastic at the same time, “you are calling all the shots and we have no freewill.”

I guess it does sound bad when he puts it like that.

“How about a compromise,” I say, “I’ll let you boys ‘call the shots’, and I’ll just write it down…if you stop threatening to shoot me out of the airlock. Deal?”

They collectively look unimpressed.

I continue stubbornly, “I’m not going anywhere until I have my story. I’ve been suffering from writer’s block for weeks, and this is the first decent idea I’ve had.”

“Half-baked is more like,” Echo grumbles. “Kriffing idiot.”

“See?” I say, splaying a hand at the cyborg, “If I were controlling everything, would I be letting y’all verbally assault me?”

“Let me shoot you with a blaster, and I’ll be convinced,” Crosshair says with a menacing flash of teeth that I think might be some sort of smile.

Suppressing a shudder, I roll my eyes. “The sooner I finish this story, the sooner I’ll get out of here. Then I’ll never bother you again…”

…In person.

I love internal dialogue.

“Fine,” Hunter agrees after a long, long bout of silence. “What’s our mission then?”

Oh. Right. That’s what started this whole mess in the first place.

Scrambling to come up with something, I say, “Alright, you should have a mission on your data pad now.”

Hunter looks down at his device. “It just says data extraction mission from blank.”

“Hey!” Wrecker objects, loudly, “I thought there was gonna be explosions and shooting!”

Tech takes the data pad from Hunter. “Not to mention the parameters of the mission are unfathomably vague.”

“Alright, alright,” I say, putting up my hands. “How about now?”

“Dangerous data extraction mission from insert planet name here,” Tech reads aloud.

Echo groans. “You have to give us more than that!”

“I don’t usually have to come up with all the details.”

“You’ve given us literally nothing,” Crosshair says, “Less than nothing.”

“You are making it very difficult to believe that anyone reads your stories willingly,” Tech says.

I narrow my eyes.

“What just happened?” Hunter asks.

We are in hyperspace, coordinates safely secured in the nav computer, boys fully aware of the mission parameters.

My work here is done.

“That, my friends, is called a scene break,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “Now, tell me about this mission.”

“Why would we go over it again?” Crosshair asks, annoyed. “We’ve been arguing strategy for the past hour.”

“So I can write it down.”

“What do you mean so you can write it down? I thought that’s what you were doing!”

I shake my head. “No, see, that’s the point of a scene break. I can skip writing all the monotony and just give readers the jist of it. So, give me the summary of the mission and I’ll write down the important bits I care about.”

Echo gapes at me. “You mean to tell me you still don’t know what the mission is?”

“Which is why you’re going to tell me,” I tell him patiently.

The boys exchange glances. I can see in their microexpressions that they’ve come to some sort of agreement that I am not going to like. Now wait a minute…

“Don’t tell the writer anything, boys,” Hunter says, turning back to the nav computer. “They get to come along for the ride, just like they wanted.”

“You can’t do that!” I cry.

“We just did, di’kut.” Crosshair begins polishing his rifle, the item having appeared during the scene break. “We’re in charge now.”

“Can you at least tell me where we’re going,” I implore weakly.

“Classified,” Echo says.

“Is it still a data extraction mission?”

Tech has the audacity to shrug. He’s scrolling through my phone. How…when…?

“Hey, give that back,” I say, lunging forward to snatch it from him.

He evades me easily, and I go sprawling across the durasteel floor.

Rolling over, I glare up at the commandos grinning down at me. “I’m still the writer,” I say, “I can still do whatever I want and know whatever I want.”

“Then why don’t you do it?” Crosshair taunts.

I must not be completely over my writer’s block after all, because nothing comes to mind. Somehow, the characters are in charge. Kriff.

“Tech,” I say, returning to the topic of my phone, “you can’t be looking at that stuff.”

“These tags are concerning,” Tech mutters, continuing to scroll as if I hadn’t said anything. “Hurt forward slash comfort? Angst? Fluff? Whump? What do these mean? That is, what is the context?”

I hate to do it, but I use my writing ability to put the phone back in my hands before Tech hurts himself emotionally. “Some things are better left unknown, Tech.”

“I swear,” Crosshair growls, “if any of those fanfics are sappy, I will shoot you out the airlock. I don’t care about our ‘deal’.”

“I’m not the only fanfic writer, okay? There are thousands of us.”

“Sounds like a nasty infestation,” Echo says.

“I’ll have you know,” I tell him primly, “we are a lovely community.”

Wrecker, the sweet boy, offers to help me to my feet, putting a hand out. I grip it and he hauls me up a little too roughly, nearly dislocating my shoulder. I grin at him nonetheless. “Thanks, Wreck.”

“Sure thing, writer,” he tells me. He leans in. “In those fanfic thingies you write, do I get to blow stuff up a lot?”

“Uhm, well,” I say, sitting back down, “it depends on the purpose of fic, really.”

“Whadda you mean? Aren’t they all just missions you make up for us?”

Crosshair huffs. “Or pretend to make up?”

“Listen,” I say, leaning around Wrecker to glare at the sniper, “I have writer’s block. Most of the time I think of legitimate missions.”

“Oh, yeah? Name one.”

“Well, one time, you were on this planet getting intel and the building that Echo and Tech was in collapsed and the rest of you had to dig them out.”

“What planet was it?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“What was the intel?”

“Important.”

“So you just make whatever the kark you want up and people actually read it?” Echo asks.

Offended by the oversimplification of my work, I retort, “Well, I like to focus more on character development than missions. But that’s just me. Other writers are a heck of a lot better at writing mission stories.”

“Then how’d we get stuck with you?” Crosshair asks, throwing his wadded up polishing rag at me.

I wish I could say I caught it, but it hits me in the face.

“You know what,” I sputter, tossing the rag aside, “Scene…”

“...break.”

We are standing in the middle of a hall, surrounded on both sides by droids.

“Would you stop doing that?” Hunter shouts at me over the din of blasterfire.

I crouch down next to Tech at a control panel. “Hey, can I borrow one of your blasters?”

“Write yourself one,” he says, deadpan, keeping his focus on hacking into the Separatist system.

“It doesn’t work like that.”

Tech rolls his eyes and passes over one of his blasters. “Please take care not to shoot one of us.”

“I think I can handle it.”

I cannot handle it. My first shot goes wide and high, taking out a light in the ceiling. Before I can try again, someone snatches the blaster out of my hand.

“Give me that before you hurt yourself.” It’s Echo.

“If that’s a legitimate risk, let them keep it,” Crosshair calls out.

“Aw, don’t hurt yourself, little writer person,” Wrecker says, scooping me up under one arm, “I’ll protect ya!”

I kick my legs and flail my arms, dangling haplessly in his grip. “Put me down!”

“Not until we’re out of here,” Hunter orders.

Fine then.

We’re back on the Marauder. The boys’ dark armor is covered in spatters of dried mud, and the right lens of Tech’s goggles has a crack in it.

“What happened to you?” I ask, sitting comfortably in the pilot’s chair, unscathed.

“You’d know if you stuck around to find out,” Crosshair growls.

“Apparently, I was just in the way back there. So I skipped ahead.”

“You’ve been in the way this whole time,” Hunter mutters.

Oh. Those are fighting words.

I smile, and I hope it appears as devilish as I feel. “Plot twist.”

I’m not sure what the creature is, but it’s ugly. It’s covered in some sort of goo and it smells putrid.

And it’s gnawing on the Marauder. Don’t worry, it doesn’t have teeth, so the ship won’t be damaged, but it will leave a residue that probably won’t be fun to scrub off later.

“What in the universe is that?” Wrecker asks.

We’ve moved outside of the ship, and we’ve discovered that the creature simply absorbs blaster bolts and is completely unfazed. The boys will have to distract it somehow, lure it away.

How inconvenient.

“This was uncalled for,” Tech says, turning to glare at me.

“Did you see it coming?” I ask. When I am not dignified with a response from any of them, I add, “Plot twist successful.”

“How are we supposed to get rid of it?” Echo asks.

I shrug. “Maybe you boys will figure it out by the next chapter.”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘next chapter’?”

“And this is what we writers like to call,” I say, smiling sweetly, “a cliffhanger.”

TBC

A/N: Will I ever actually finish this fic?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

‘Tis the nature of fanfic, isn’t it? ;D

Let me know if you’d like to be added to my Tag List!

Tag List: @arctrooper69 @ezras-left-thumb @maeashryver @baddest-batchers @laughhardrunfastbekindsblog @omegafett99 @heidnspeak @fionas-frenzy @dreamsight73 @royallykt @blackseafoam @illogicaalbraindump @skellymom

#star wars #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #tbb #fanfiction #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #clone wars era #clone wars #crack fic #humor #fics by Kyber #writing humor #fanfic humor

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athenalynx · 1 day ago

Text

princess and the not frog

synopsis:during a fight nanami gets transported to 1920's new orleans and happens to stubble into tiana while trying to find his way home

Tags:nanamixtiana,fluff,no spice(yet🤭)

authors note: if yall like chap one then ill drop chap 2 🔥 promise this isnt just a shi post nanamixtiana is the best ship in jjk 🫡

read time:8-10 mins

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

Where am I?” Nanami asked, looking around for clues to his whereabouts. He tried to recall how he got there. He was in a fight, and suddenly a portal had sucked him into the world he was now in. As he looked around, a sign caught his eye. It read, in big bright letters, “Tiana’s Palace.” Something told him that if he wanted any chance of finding a way home, that was the place he needed to go. He took a deep breath, mustering his courage before going in. He opened the door to the sound of jazz music filling the restaurant. Men in suits and women in fancy dresses were everywhere, which made Nanami feel a bit better about his situation because at least these people knew how to dress. He looked around before approaching the host stand.

“Excuse me, what is this place?” Nanami asked. The hostess gave him a funny look.

“A restaurant,” she replied. Nanami glanced at the food on the tables; he should have known. Embarrassed, he was about to leave when he heard, “Now welcoming to the stage the owner of this restaurant, Tiana herself.”

Nanami turned to see the most beautiful woman he's ever seen . She was wearing a tight, shimmery white dress that complemented her dark skin perfectly, and her curly hair fell gracefully on her shoulders.

“Hello, everyone!” Tiana greeted, scanning the crowd until her eyes met Nanami’s. She paused, almost believing in love at first sight. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen. He was tall, wearing a tight dark blue button-up shirt complemented by a leopard print tie, and had short blond hair. Tiana almost got lost in his light brown eyes before snapping back to reality.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming tonight, and--” Before she could finish, a man yelled, “Nice ass, sweetheart!” All the men erupted into wicked laughter as Tiana stood there, flustered, trying to collect herself. Before she could say anything, Nanami interjected, “Who said that?”

The men stopped laughing, pointing to a middle-aged man giving Nanami a sheepish grin. “That would be me, what about it?”

Nanami looked the man up and down before walking closer. Without saying a word, he punched the man across the face, causing him to fall back in his chair. Quickly getting up, the man tried to punch Nanami back, but Nanami dodged the punch and kicked the man in the stomach, followed by an uppercut to the jaw. The man fell to the floor, and Nanami was getting ready to punch him again when he felt someone hold him back. He looked behind him to see Tiana.

“Beating this guy won’t make things any better,” Tiana said.

“Sorry,” Nanami mumbled, keeping his eyes to the floor. He felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time: shame.

“It’s okay. Come to the back so I can fix you up,”Tiana said Nanami was confused on why she would say that before he looked down at his bloody knuckles he nodded and Tiana grabbed his arm leading him to a room that looked like her office. She sat him down and grabbed a first aid kit from one of her many bookshelves.

“You didn’t need to do that,” Tiana paused before adding, “But thank you. But next time, I can take care of myself.” Nanami smiled at her and said, “I don’t plan on doing it again.” Tiana giggled before asking.

“What brought you here? You don’t look like you’re from here,” .

“I honestly don’t know. I just got sucked up here by some sort of portal,” Nanami replied, he didn’t know why he told her for some reasson he trusted her with his life something about her smile made and her dark brown eye that were so easy to get lost in made it easy for him to talk to her making it sound like what happened to him was just a normal everyday thing. Tiana looked at him like he was crazy while wiping the blood off his knuckles.

“Where am I?” Nanami asked.

“You’re in the best restaurant in New Orleans,” Tiana said proudly. Nanami’s stomach rumbled.

“Maybe before I leave, I could try some of the food here?” Nanami asked.

“I could cook you something,” Tiana said with a smile before leading him to the kitchen.

“What are you craving?” Tiana asked as she tied her hair back.

“Something sweet,” Nanami said. Tiana nodded and said, “I know something I could make for you.”

“What?” Nanami asked.

“It’s a surprise,” Tiana replied with a wink.

“How long have you owned the restaurant?” Nanami asked.

“About a year,” she answered.

“I’m sorry, but I never got your name?” Tiana said.

“It’s Kento Nanami, but everyone calls me Nanami.”

“I’ve never met anyone with that last name. Where are you from?” Tiana asked.

“I was born and raised in Tokyo, Japan,” Nanami said.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” Tiana said with a smile.

While Tiana cooked, Nanami talked about almost everything they could think of: family, friends, work, etc.

“Your food is ready,” Tiana said, placing a plate in front of Nanami before coating it in powdered sugar.

“What is it?” Nanami asked.

“Beignets. It’s my mama’s recipe,” Tiana said. As Nanami took a bite, his eyes lit up.

“I think this is the best thing I’ve ever had,” he said before taking another bite.

“I told you you’re in the best restaurant in New Orleans,” Tiana said with a proud smile as Nanami quickly finished his plate.

“Can I have more?” Nanami asked.

“Maybe if you come in tomorrow, I could make you more, but you would need to pay,” Tiana replied.

“I know this is a lot to ask, but can I maybe stay here? I don’t really have a home. I could pay you to stay here if you want,” Nanami asked Tiana with pleading eyes.

“You don’t need to pay me. I don’t really know how you got here, but I want to help you,” Tiana said.

“Thank you so much, Tiana!” Nanami said before pulling Tiana into a hug. They hugged for a minute before snapping back to reality.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Tiana said before walking out. But before she could leave, she turned around and said, “You know you could stay at my house. I want you to be able to sleep in a bed if you want to.”

“Of course, I would,” Nanami said.

------------location change-----------

“Okay i'll get you some blankets for the couch.” Tiana says

Nanami nods looking around admiring the room's homie aesthetic; it makes him feel like he’s home even though he's in an entirely different universe. Tiana comes back with blankets and a pillow which she plops on the couch

“Okay that's all you’ll need for the night i'm in my room if you need me.” Tiana says before turning to leave but before she could Nanami grabs her hand and spin her to face him

“Can you not leave yet? Maybe we could watch Netflix or whatever you want.”

“What's Netflix?” Tiana asks

Nanami cocks an eyebrow and asks ‘how don’t you not know what Netflix is?”

“I don't watch that many movies. Im always busy and movies just feel like a waste of time.” Tiana says

“Netflix isn't a movie” Nanami says

“What is it?” Tiana asks Nanami thinks for a little before he says

“It's like a streaming service. It has a bunch of movies and tv shows from all over the world and you only need to pay 6 dollars a month.”

“What's a streaming service?” Tiana asks

“I'll just show you where's your tv?” Nanami asks when he turns around he's greeted by old box tv

“I've not seen a box tv since I was a kid,how old is it?” Nanami says

“It's not that old, only a year or two.” Tiana says confused

“What do you mean this tv got to be from the 1920’s or older.” Nanami says while examining the tv

“That was only 2 years ago.” Tiana says with a chuckle suddenly it hits Nanami

“What year is it ?” Nanami asks panicky

“Baby it the 1922.” Tiana says but that just makes Nanami feel light headed as he falls back on the couch keeping his head in his hands

“What's wrong Nanami?” Tiana asks concerned

“In the universe I'm in, it's 2024, I don’t even think I'm in a different universe I think somehow I traveled back In time” Nanami says

“So you're a time traveler.”

“Technically yes but that only gonna make it harder to get back home.” Nanami says with a heavy sigh sinking deeper in the couch Tiana sits next to him putting her hands in his and says

“Don’t worry we’ll find a way to get you home.” Nanami lazily looks at Tiana trying giving a half ass smile

“Thank you Tiana for everything.” he says before giving Tiana a hug tightly wrapping his hands around her waist

“I know this is a bad time to ask but how is the future?” Tiana asks Nanami lets Tiana out of his tight grasp

“Well for one we have bigger Televisions.” he says looking a the tiny box tv sitting on the mantel in front of the couch

“Well the future Is sounds pretty boring.” Tiana says playfully

“I don't think tv’s are boring.” Nanami says

“Well that because everyone on tv looks like you” Tiana says matter of factly

“What do you mean?” Nanami asks confused

“Have you ever seen a black woman on tv as anything but the side character who is the but of all the jokes?” ask’s Tiana

“I have.” Nanami says Tiana looks at Nanami with wide eyes

“Really?” Tiana asks

“Yeah, there’s a lot of movies and shows with black main characters.”

“Are there any black princesses?” Tiana asks hopefully

“Yes.” Nanami says

“Tell me everything.” Tiana says eagerly

“Well it’s called princess and the frog….”

Nanami tell Tiana the story of princess and the frog as she lays her head on his shoulder constantly asking him to keep going with a wide smile on her face by the time he’s done Tiana had fallen asleep he gently picks Tiana up and brings her to bedroom the house was small so it wasn’t hard to find Nanami gently lays Tiana on the bed giving her a light kiss on her forehead before he leaves he hears Tiana quietly say “wait”

Nanami turns around to see Tiana with her head slightly raised to be able to look at Nanami

“It's really cold, could you maybe…sleep with me?” Tiana asks Nanami nods and lays on his side to be able to see Tiana’s face

“You know your eyes are really beautiful.” Nanami says

“You don’t need to try and flatter me, my eyes are just brown.” Tiana says

“I'm not trying to” Nanami says kindly Tiana smiles

“It's not just your eyes that are beautiful, everything about you is beautiful. This may be sappy but you're probably the most beautiful woman I've seen.” Nanami says before he gets to sappy he says

“Sorry I know that really corny and-” before he could finish Tiana quickly gives him a kiss

“I'm sorry I shouldn't have done that, please forgive me.” Nanami gently grabs Tiana faces and leans in for another kiss before Nanami pulls away and says

“There is nothing to be sorry for.” Tiana smiles at him but Nanami can tell somethings wrong

"we should get to bed." Tiana says she gently wraps her hands around Nanami waist while resting her head on his chest

"good night" Tiana says before closing her eyes Nanami gives her a light kiss on her forehead

"good night." he says before he slowly closes his eyes to fall asleep

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #nanami kento #nanami x tiana #princess tiana #fluff #fanfic #lobotomy kaisen

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dcdreamblog · 3 days ago

Note

As it happens, my birthday is now Gay Marriage Day in the United States, not the present I was looking for that year, but it's interesting. So I tend to have a lot of Pride Month stuff coming up on my various social media around that date--and this year I spotted someone at a Pride Parade I had not seen in ages.

To be precise, Extraño of the New Guardians, who as far as I know was the first "out" gay superhero of the modern era. I distinctly remember seeing on the news years ago that he was dead. So, did he come back from the dead at some point, was he just not actually dead, is this a relative or lookalike? And of course please fill us in on the backstory.

The death of Gregorio de la Vega has been greatly exaggerated, often on purpose, usually for exactly the reason you think.

Born in Trujillo, Peru, de la Vega probably has some amount of Homo Magi blood in him since he was always able to perform minor feats of magic. Until he was chosen by some sort of alien process meant to select the breeding stock for the next, greatest stage in human evolution. They empowered de la Vega, turning him into a potent sorcerer and granting him membership on this new Adam and Eve team, The New Guardians. One problem. Gregorio de la Vega is a gay man.

Very much disinterested in this whole "breeding a better humanity" thing for fairly self evident reasons. He did however, christen himself "Extrano" which is simply Spanish for "Strange", calling to the alienation and otherness he had been made to feel his whole life for how he was born. He was, he IS, the first openly gay superhero to have ever existed.

And his first costume looked like thissss

(A photograph of Extrano, the caption is meant to be encouraging to queer youths. You ARE Strange, so own it" that sort of thing.)

He is noted as speaking with an exaggerated queer affectation, referring to himself as "Auntie" and making himself the sounding board for the other members' romantic frustrations. In short, he was playing up to a stereotype. A positive version of a stereotype, a heroic persona of a stereotype, and yet a stereotype it remained. His costume eventually changed into one that was a lot more...shear. A stereotype of another kind but his affectation didn't change much. Much has been said about this. Whether he was a poor role model for indulging in these affectations, whether he was brave for simply being out at all, this that and the other thing. Here's my opinion...I don't care.

I am not going to sit here in judgment of a man whose mere existence did more for my right to live, and love and thrive comfortably in my own skin and as my own self than I could do with 100 years as dictator of the world. Was he living to an expectation in order to find what amount of acceptance he could in a queerphobic society? Maybe. Was he hiding behind it in fear of not being "gay enough" in a time and place where the idea of what queerness is was very narrow? Maybe. Was the man just honestly like that? MAYBE.

The point I am making is you'd have to ask him because the man is still alive.

He vanished from the public eye for a long time for one simple reason: Like a lot of gay men his age and of his era, Extrano contracted HIV.

The stigma attached to the condition at that time cannot be overstated and so, in seeking treatment, he put his own health first and the clucking of tabloids last. For many years the headline that he had died at a clinic somewhere in Peru, or Singapore, or Mexico, or whatever circulated every six months.

It wasn't until a few years ago when he was called upon that what had become of him was publically known: He had become an incredibly powerful, incredibly respected, incredibly FEARED arch magus. One that went toe to toe with Eclipso on live television when the villain attacked a pride parade, the event that lead to the foundation of the loose group now known as Justice League Queer.

And he looks like thi-

(A head shot of de la Vega taken from the back of his recent memoir "Queer: It Means Strange")

Daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry. Da- BONK MAINTAIN PROFESSIONAL DETACHMENT!!!

Point being, the man is alive, and well and in the public eye for the first time in a LONG time. If you want to know who he is or what he thinks, you can read his book, or watch the 8 different TV interviews I was able to find on Youtube.

He's given talks about his queer journey, being gay in Latin America, being gay in Peru specifically, growing up gay in Peru in the 70s and 80s even more specifically. Living with HIV, living with HIV AS a gay man. Being an HIV positive superhero. Being a gay superhero. His treatment, his sudden thrust into being a patriarch for the queer hero community. He has been on a whistle stop tour of every single public event that will hand him a microphone. If you wanna ask this man a question, kick in the door of your nearest gay bookshop and odds are he will be giving a talk at that store when you check!

To answer your "question" when asked about rumors of his death so long circulating he is quoted as saying. "Death is not allowed to kill me until I've had my fun."

#dc #dcu #dc comics #dc universe #superhero #comics #tw unreality #unreality #unreality blog #ask game #ask blog #asks open #please interact #worldbuilding #extrano #gregorio de la vega

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wordingg · 3 days ago

Text

I gave a shot at filling the "ball that's stuck in a loop" prompt. Sorry it's a bit short. I'm going to add on to it, so long as I have time. I've been on a big regency romance kick lately, so your first fic prompt felt like a perfect fit.

"What's that?" Charles asked as he watched Edwin's eyes scan over the card he had just opened for the third time.

Edwin looked up, a furrow between his thick brows that usually meant he was sincerely baffled.

"An invitation," he answered, "to a ball," he added with skepticism.

Charles popped up from his seat on the couch to take the card, which Edwin held out to him. The card was made of some kind of fancy heavy paper with a sort of textured surface. He scanned the short message.

Missus Agatha Green humbly requests the presence of Mister Edwin Payne and Mister Charles Rowland at his annual Yule Ball on December 25th, 8 o'clock Netherfield Park

Charles eyebrows were nearly at his hairline by the time he finished reading.

"Well," he said after a moment. "That something, isn't it?" he said as he handed the note back to Edwin. "Do we know a mister Henry Green?"

"Not to my knowledge," Edwin said slowly, still frowning down at the card.

"Should we go?" Charles asked.

Edwin's eyes shot to him in surprise. Charles grinned back at him.

"We got an invitation, didn't we? Why shouldn't we go?" he asked.

"For myriad reasons," Edwin said with a raised eyebrow. The furrow between his brows was gone, though, which Charles counted as a success. "For one, it may be an elaborate trap. For two, it may be an incredible bore," Edwin said with an acerbic look at the invitation itself, like he hoped whoever had sent it might have heard him.

"Come on! A ball sounds loads of fun. Never been to a ball before. Might be nice," Charles said with a wistful expression that he hoped Edwin didn't see through. Judging by the slightly flustered expression that fluttered across Edwin's features, he didn't. Charles suppressed a grin as Edwin sighed and rose from his chair behind the desk, tapping the edge of the card against the palm of his hand.

"I suppose it would be rude to decline. Seeing as we have no other plans for the date in question," Edwin said dismissively. Charles grinned at him until his mouth quirked up in the corner. They were going to a ball!

---

The evening of December 25th found Charles and Edwin both standing on the steps of Netherfield Hall in Hertfordshire at 8 pm sharp.

The building itself was a huge red brick construction. It was likely a country house of some well off lord in the century before Edwin was born. The building and grounds were well tended, the garden quaint and pretty even at night in the dead of winter. It had two rows of windows indicating at least two floors, plus windows in the roof, which likely meant the attic was furnished for servant housing, as was common in Edwin's time. Each window was glowing with a flickering candle flame even though the white lace curtains were pulled closed, an incredible fire hazard. Edwin assumed magic was at play to stop the entire place from going up in flames.

"Did we get the date wrong?" Charles asked hesitantly, pulling the invitation from his bag to double-check.

Edwin didn't bother to glance at the card, as he knew that the date and time were perfectly correct. Though he couldn't fault Charles for doubting himself. The garden and house seemed completely serene and motionless, after all. Not quite the sight one would expect at a ball just getting under way.

"Perhaps we should just head inside," Edwin sighed, already dreading whatever awaited them within. A trick or a trap seeming more likely all the time.

Whatever Edwin was expecting, it wasn't what they found.

The second that Edwin phased through the large front door, Charles right on his heel, he found himself in the midst of a festive event already underway.

The foyer of Netherfield Park was aglow with candlelight, tall delicate candles fitted into every wall sconce, chandelier and atop pine bough and holly centerpieces on the tables. Speaking of pine, boughs of pine and holly festooned the tops of all the windows, doors, and wound its way around the banister edging the staircase leading to the second floor, the holly berries glittering red in the warm glow of the candles. Then there were the people. There were tens of people in the foyer alone, all in period dress, all ignoring Edwin and Charles as they stood frozen in the doorway.

"Whoah, Edwin!" Charles exclaimed from behind Edwin's left shoulder, where he usually stationed himself. "Looking posh there, mate," Charles added, Edwin able to hear the grin in his voice.

Confused, Edwin looked down at himself. He expected to his everyday outfit of wool suit jacket with waistcoat over shirtsleeves with breeches and stockings and his great coat over all. What he saw instead was something that would have looked more common in his grandfather's closet than on his own person.

"What," Edwin spat, then ran out of words, something that didn't happen to him often.

Charles was snickering, so Edwin spared him a venomous look. But, then he was too busy staring to put much venom into it.

Charles was dressed much the same as Edwin, though he managed to make Edwin's grandfather's clothes look much nicer than he did himself.

Dressed in a glossy maroon tailcoat, with matching brocade waistcoat and shining brass buttons, Charles was looking very handsome indeed. He had a bright crimson cravat tied at his neck that surely Edwin's grandfather could have expounded on whatever complicated knot made it curl so appealingly against Charles' sharp chin. This was matched to a pair of tightly fit slate gray pantaloons tucked into shining black knee-high boots.

Edwin swallowed around a suddenly dry mouth. Certainly, men of George IV's time wouldn't have worn such sinfully tight pants. Certainly.

There was one thing that was wrong, though. Frowning, Edwin tapped his own ear for Charles. Eyes going big and round, Charles slapped his hand over his own corresponding ear and briefly looked shocked and upset.

"Oi!" he said loud enough to attract the attention of the various lords and ladies in the foyer. "Where's my earring!?"

"Whatever magic was used to change our appearance must have affected it, as well," Edwin said with a thoughtful frown. "Though, what sort of magic can force a ghost to appear in a way other than they intend, I do not know."

"Well, they can sod off. The earring is non-negotiable," Charles snapped, an unusual occurrence, but as it was not meant for him, Edwin took no offense.

Taking a deep breath, Charles closed his eyes. Edwin had seen him do so many times in the past to adjust his own appearance. Charles had a set of clothing and accessories he preferred, but those had shifted and changed subtly over the years. Edwin, being much more a creature of habit than Charles, had been fascinated by his constant shifts in their early years working together. By this time, he was quite used to Charles' expression when he was changing his appearance.

Edwin waited patiently and warily as Charles' expression steadily shifted from calm to frustrated. Still, his ear remained empty of his usual earring. Edwin's frown became more pronounced.

After almost a full minute of trying to no effect, Charles' hands had curled into fists and his brows had knotted in the center. Cautiously eying the other people in the room, Edwin pressed his hand over Charles'. It had the desired effect of pulling Charles out of his apparently fruitless attempt to summon his earring back. Unfortunately, it had the very much not desirable effect of drawing whispers and widened eyes from the various people still standing in the foyer.

Drat.

Charles, bless him, was oblivious to the little stir their brief but affectionate touch had elicited. "Still not there, eh?" he asked with a lop sided smile.

"I'm afraid not," Edwin answered with a sympathetic frown and a wary glance at their riveted audience. "Perhaps we ought to search out the host of this ball. She might have some answers."

Charles brightened at that suggestion. "Great idea! Lead on, then," he said with a rakish grin and a fanciful bow that would have been more at home in a French court than an English country ball.

The titters recommenced, but Charles took no notice, even as they rose the hairs on the back of Edwin's neck. This was all rather too familiar for him, and he wanted nothing more than to sink through the floor. Unfortunately, client or not, it seemed they had a case to solve.

So, Edwin spun on his heel, using sheer willpower and spite to make his spine straight as a ruler and his chin as and proud as he could manage, and strode through the doors to his left and on to the ballroom.

Here's my DBDA Gift Exchange Wishlist! ❄️

I did one for fics and one for fanart! If you want to pick up any of these concepts and gift me a little treat, I would be so thankful to you! 🥹💜

I put the blank template under the cut if you want to participate and make your own! Find out information and rules for the community gift exchange HERE at @dbdaghostmas or over HERE @dbdayuletide!

Make sure to put "dbdawishlist2024" in the tags so people can find your wishlist!

#dbdawishlist2024 #dead boy detectives #dbda #12daysofghostmas #fanfiction #wordinggwrites #pre canon #case fic #dbdayuletide2024

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