#i seem to have way more energy than i should have after being on the road for hours

[watchmegetobsessed]

UNMATCHED II.

A/N: soooo you guys were just as horny for a part 2 to this story as i was so here we are, giving in to the temptation. disclaimer, i know their behavior is giving red flag energy but lets just put that aside for the sake of the story now lol

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

WARNING: sexual content, age gap, student-professor relationship

SUMMARY: Harry has been trying his best to forget what happened with Y/N, he is set on never making the same mistake, but it seems like fate has different plans for him.

PART 1 | MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

That skirt. That goddamned skirt. That’s gonna be the death of Harry. 

And also the fact that she went back to that asshole. 

Sitting in the busy school cafeteria Harry has zoned out of the conversation at the table a long time ago, precisely when he saw Y/N stroll in wearing that short skirt with that dickhead she should have ditched already or better, she shouldn’t have even dated him in the first place. But now they are moving in the line with their group of friends and he has his hand on her waist and it keeps inching lower, just a few more inches and his hand could be slipping under her skir–

“Harry? Hello?” 

Stella catches his attention and he is forced to move his focus back to his colleagues at the table. 

“Huh? Sorry, what did you say?” He clears his throat and keeps his eyes on his half-eaten sandwich in front of him. 

“What’s up with you? You haven’t been your usual self lately.”

“Just… tired. I’m behind with my research and have a bunch of papers to grade before winter break.”

“The joys of being a teacher,” Stella chuckles. “Don’t worry, it’ll get better with time.”

“Really?”

“No,” she smirks at him. “But you’ll care less.”

She soon returns to the conversation at the table and Harry finds himself looking for Y/N again. There’s no trace of her in the line, but he is quick to spot her at a table across the dining hall, sitting beside Dickhead who has an arm around her neck, keeping her close as he wants everyone to know that they are together.

And it irks Harry way more than it probably should. 

It’s been a little over a week since Stella’s Christmas party and also that very heated and very wrong kiss he shared with Y/N. That weekend was like hell, he kept beating himself over and over about it, cursing himself out for being so stupid and reckless. He still has no idea what came over him that let him make out with a student, but he knew one thing for sure: it couldn’t happen again. 

So when Y/N walked into the classroom before his first lecture early on monday he didn’t even let her speak before he got to the point. 

“It shouldn’t have happened. I’m so sorry for it, but I can’t undo it now. I suggest let’s pretend nothing happened, it’s for the absolute best. No one can know about it and it will never happen again.”

She seemed taken aback by his outburst, but after a bit of hesitation she nodded.

“Okay. Nothing happened. It must have been the wine.”

“Yes,” he agreed right away. “We both drank more than we should have and made a mistake.”

She flinched at his last word, but didn’t protest, only nodded, holding her textbooks tighter to her chest. She looked so sad, even disappointed that Harry almost wanted to take back what he just said, but he knew he couldn’t. 

“Are you… okay?” he dared to ask, but when she looked at him again, her eyes told nothing. 

“I’m fine. I’ll see you in class, professor.”

And she was out of the classroom before he could say another word. In class she sat in the back and not even once did she look at him. He knows, because he kept looking at her. 

He’s been trying his best to get her out of his head, but with not much luck. Not when all he can think about is how soft her lips felt against his, how insanely good she tasted mixed with the coldness of the night, how amazingly she fit into his palm, the curve of her neck, back, waist and hips… and how badly he wants to experience it again even though it’s the worst possible idea. 

Harry thinks he is going insane. Genuinely. 

He’s been burying himself into work, but his focus has been all over the place, so it’s been more like a waste of time. He is one of the last ones in the building today as well. Most professors left a long time ago, but the lights in Harry’s tiny office are still on as he is hunched over a stack of papers. When he has to read over the same line for the twentieth time he drops his pen with a tired groan and leans back in his chair. He takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes roughly, until he is practically seeing stars. 

“Fuck,” he huffs, staring at the papers that are still waiting to be graded. Checking the time on his phone he is surprised to see that it’s already past seven.

He stands from his chair and steps to the window. The campus looks quiet at this time, only a few students are walking towards the dorm that’s next to the literature department’s building. It’s a wednesday night, the semester ends next week so some lucky students who have no more exams left in the year have already left for the holidays. Harry will be going home right before Christmas, he plans to use those few days of the break to work on his research in peace. 

From his window he sees part of the parking lot next to the dorm, it’s quite dark there, he almost doesn’t notice the figures sitting in the car closest to him, but a few heartbeats later realization hits him.

It’s Y/N and the dickhead. 

They are pretty far, but Harry can tell that they are in a heated fight, judging from how Y/N is gesticulating. Obviously he can’t hear them, but if he had to guess he would say she is shouting, from what he can see. 

For a moment he tells him to just ignore the scene, it’s none of anyone else’s business, let alone his. But when he sees the asshole slap his hands against the wheel several times, making Y/N jump, Harry is moving before he could second guess his actions. 

He practically sprints down that stairs, already trying to figure out how he’ll interject without appearing like a creep, but he forgets all his plans when he is marching towards the parking lot and sees the scene unfold from up close. 

At some point they must have gotten out of the car, because Harry catches the dickhead getting back into the driving seat, Y/N is crying and tries to stop him from shutting the door, but he swings it with such force that she stumbles forward, holding onto the handle. When Harry sees her almost fall to the asphalt he starts running, just as the car comes to life and he drives away so fast, he almost runs over Y/N’s feet. 

“Fuck you, Charlie! Fuck you!” She screams after the car, tears streaming down her cheeks. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” Harry rushes over to her, grabs her by her shoulders and turns her away from the direction of the car. “Hey, what happened?”

She is gasping for air from the crying as she wraps her arms around her, those beautiful eyes that are usually filled with curiosity are now full of confusion and hurt. 

“Y/N, look at me,” he begs and she hiccups a few times before she finally looks him in the eyes. 

“H-Harry?”

He ignores how good it feels to hear her call him by his first name again and tries to focus on the situation.

“Yeah. Let’s get inside, okay? It’s freezing cold.”

She nods and lets him steer her towards the building and up to his office. By the time she sits in the old armchair in the corner of his office she has stopped sobbing, but her expression looks just as miserable as before. 

“I’ll make you a tea. Do you like tea?” he asks, stepping over to the tiny side table where he keeps his kettle and tiny tea collection with two mugs. She nods and he is quick to turn on the kettle. He grabs a chamomile filter and drops it into one of the mugs and while the water boils he hands her a box of tissues that she accepts with a quietly murmured thank you. 

When the tea is done he hands her the mug and sits in his chair, unsure what to say. He definitely did not plan to have her in his office anytime soon and definitely not like this. 

“Go on, lecture me about being with him,” she says at last, staring into the mug in her hands. 

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“But you’d be right.” She looks up at him, eyes still red from the crying. 

“Why did you go back to him?” he softly asks, not wanting to make her feel even worse. 

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, looking away again. “He could be convincing, I guess.”

“Hope you won’t believe him after this.”

“No,” she chuckles bitterly before taking a sip from the tea, leaning back in the armchair. “Not even the sex will convince me to go back to him.”

Harry’s muscles jump at her words. Not because he is such a prude, but because instantly he is thinking about sex… and her… and his body reacts involuntarily. Clearing his throat he crosses his legs and looks anywhere but at her.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” she chuckles softly, but she doesn’t seem sorry at all. 

“No, I… um…” Harry has no idea what to say. This feels like such an impossible situation, he is definitely walking on eggshells here and the fact that he is semi-hard does not help his case. 

While he is looking for the right words she places her mug to his desk and crosses her legs, a curious look playing in her eyes as she is looking at him. She appears calm and confident suddenly, like she wasn’t sobbing ten minutes ago. 

“I lied,” she then speaks up.

“About what?”

“I know why I went back to him.”

“Oh. Okay, why did you?”

She holds his gaze for one… two… three seconds before her lips part, then she hesitates for one more moment before answering. 

“Because I couldn’t go to you.”

A shiver runs down his spine at her words, his body is betraying him already, but he hangs onto the last bit of his rationality.

“Y/N, don’t.”

“Don’t what? Don’t tell the truth?”

“We agreed that we are not talking about it again.”

“I’m not talking about that night. I’m talking about how badly I’ve been wanting you, but knowing I can’t have you I went back to Charlie even though I knew I shouldn’t have.” 

“Y/N…” His mouth is dry and he feels ridiculously hot even though the heating hasn’t been working too well lately in his office. He is clawing at the arms of his chair, trying to keep the remains of his cool, though it feels like he is hanging on a thread.

“I won’t do anything about it, don’t worry. And I won’t bring it up again.” She sounds different this time, the confidence has turned into what feels like disappointment and it lurches something in Harry’s gut. 

Standing she smoothes her clothes before looking at Harry, a tiny sliver of expectancy glistening in her eyes. 

“Thanks for the tea. I better get going.”

She is already moving towards the door when Harry jumps to his feet, entirely lost about what to think, do or say. He strides after her and just when she is about to reach for the knob, he grabs her other hand, stopping her mid action. 

But he has no idea why he just did that. His rationality is screaming at him, but with each passing moment he spends holding her hand, the noise gets farther and farther away until it’s lost somewhere in the back of his mind. 

Slowly, she turns her head, eyes taking in the sight of their touching hands before her gaze meets his. He instantly stumbles back, letting go of her like she was on fire, but she doesn’t seem surprised. Instead, she turns around and just stands there, with a calm, but determined look on her face. 

“Careful professor,” she then speaks up. “I might take your actions as a hint.”

“A hint…” he breathes out, almost mesmerized with her, he is convinced she’s put a spell on him, because he can’t move or think straight, he just keeps staring at her.

“Yes, a hint,” she nods shortly. “That you want me just as much as I want you.”

He swallows down a moan that almost slips through his lips at her words. His whole body is burning for her, palms sweating and itching to touch her and he can almost taste her on his tongue again, desperate to pick up from where they left off not long ago. 

The tiniest smirk tugs on the corners of her mouth when she sees just how much he is struggling and she takes it as her queue to push her luck just a bit further. She takes a step closer to him, but still leaves some space between them, wanting him to close those last inches. 

“You know you can have me.” She cocks her head to the side, blinking up at him innocently. “Right here, on your desk or in that armchair. I want to be your good girl and take whatever you give me.”

“Stop it,” he manages to breathe out, but all his strength is gone, it sounds more like a plea rather than an order. 

“What if I don’t?” she sassily questions. “Will you punish me?”

Harry whimpers. They both know he is close to breaking and she is not stepping down now and she’s determined to push him over the edge. Slowly she reaches up, drags a finger across her lips before moving then down, tugging at her shirt at her chest, revealing more of the exposed skin there, then she starts playing with the top button, all while keeping her eyes focused on him. He sucks on his breath, his gaze keeps switching between her eyes and what her fingers are doing. 

Then it pops open, revealing the delicious swell of her breasts and a bit of the lacy bra as well and he knows he is gone. 

“Close the curtain,” he simply orders and a sudden rush of excitement washes over her as she quickly moves across the room, drawing the curtains on the window and turning around she is expecting him to be in the same spot, but to her surprise he is right there and before she could say a word, his lips crash down on hers with such force she would have fallen back if he didn’t already have an arm around her waist. 

His other hand is quick to find its way to her throat first, then to her jaw, angling her head perfectly so he can devour her. 

He spins them around and she gasps when her ass meets the edge of his desk, still kissing her he pushes forward, blindly tossing everything on the desk aside to make room, something clatters as it falls to the ground but neither of them cares to even look. His hands are on the back of her legs and he helps her up until she is sitting on top of the desk. 

She eagerly opens her thighs and circles her legs around his hips, pulling him closer and when she feels just how hard he already is, pushing against her clothed center, she can’t help but moan at the sensation. 

“It’s a one time thing,” he pants when her fingers start to work on his shirt and his hands find the button of her jeans. 

“Sure,” she breathes out smiling.

“Just to get it out of our system.”

“Of course,” she nods eagerly, and a moment later she is tugging his shirt off his shoulders. 

Buttons come undone, clothes are thrown across the room and soon enough all of his focus is on her naked chest, his hands exploring the tender, heated skin before his head dips down and his mouth meets her hardened nipples. 

“Oh fuck,” she moans, head falling back as she has an arm around his shoulders, the other one planted behind her on the desk. All while his hands are tugging down her jeans, finally giving him the chance to touch her inner thighs, exploring the warmth and softness he’s been fantasizing about for so long. 

He gently bites on one of her nipples, making her back arch, burying his face between her breasts before he leans back to get rid of her jeans. She has a moment to admire his naked torso, all the tattoos he’s been hiding under his clothes, his pants are hanging around his knees and his erection is throbbing through the fabric of his underwear. She can’t help but smile at the sight, it’s surely one she’ll remember forever.

When her jeans are discarded on the floor he plants his hands on her thighs and pushes them wide open, revealing her drenched panties. He brings his thumb over the wet fabric, lazily drags it over her clit, making her tremble under his touch. Then keeping eye contact with her he pulls his chair under him, sits down and rolls closer so his face is perfectly lined up with her. With his eyes still locked on hers, he leans forward, moves her panties to the side and places a sloppy, open mouthed kiss to her throbbing clit, making her moan so loud, he digs his fingers into her thighs pulling back. 

“You need to be quiet,” he warns her and she just eagerly nods, watching him take her underwear off completely and go back to where he was a moment ago. 

Harry drinks up her taste, he licks, kisses and sucks on the right spots, making her see stars as her orgasm is building up. When she feels two of his fingers slip into her she grabs a handful of his hair, tugging on it. 

But right when she is about to tip over the edge he pulls back, leaving her in a heaving mess. Reaching into one of his drawers he grabs a condom and standing up he watches her lying on his desk, chest rapidly rising and falling while he rolls the condom on. 

To his surprise, she gets up and jumps off the desk, taking the initiative by pushing him down back into the chair and straddling his lap. His hands are quick to move to her ass as his cock wedges between her drenched folds. He hisses when she starts rolling her hips, making them both even more feral for what’s about to come. 

She leans forward and kisses him, her hand reaching down between them until it finds his cock. She gives him a few lazy strokes to which he hums lowly into her mouth. Then she stops her kisses, lips still brushing against his, eyes meeting again as she lifts herself up just enough to angle him underneath her and then slowly she eases down, letting him enter her inch by inch until she is filled entirely. She gasps at the feeling of her walls stretching around him and they both stop for a few moments, just savoring how perfectly they fit together. 

She plants both her hands to the base of his neck, kisses him again and starts moving her hips. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good,” he groans, locking his arms around her, fingers digging into her naked back and side as she starts to slowly pick up her pace, bouncing on him. 

When he starts thrusting upwards, meeting her movements, her head rolls back from how deep she feels him inside her, his tip reaching the perfect spot. 

“Yes, right there!” she gasps as he buries his head in her neck, kissing and sucking on the soft skin while keeping his rhythm. “I’m so close,” she breathes out, her hands raking through his messy hair. 

Wanting even more friction she adjusts herself and then starts moving faster and rougher, aching for the release. She looks down, her eyes meet his gaze and she just knows he is as close as she is. 

“Harry,” she moans and hearing his name fall from her lips is what pushes him over the edge.

Grunting, his thrusts get rougher and fall out of their fast pace, he pushes into her over and over again as he fills the condom and watching him fall apart helps her let go as well. He feels her walls tighten around him while he is still riding out the afterwaves of his own orgasm, her mouth hangs open, nails digging into his shoulders so harshly they surely leave marks. 

Then they both slowly come off their high and she leans forward, capturing his lips in a much softer kiss than the ones they’ve shared just minutes ago. He gladly returns, their lips melt together and his fingers gently roam her naked back while he is still inside her. 

They’re quiet when she moves off him and grabs a few tissues to clean herself up while he discards the condom. The clothes are picked up from the floor one by one and a sense of unsureness settles between them as they both get dressed. 

She was the only thing on his mind just five minutes ago, but now that the sex haze is gone, his thoughts start racing. What did he do? What will happen now? This shouldn’t have happened but still, he wants to do it again and again and again. 

As if she knew he was panicking inside, she steps to him, takes his face in her hands and pulls him into a long, passionate kiss that instantly makes him forget about everything else. 

“Don’t overthink it,” she whispers against his lips. “We’re adults.”

“I’m your teacher,” he hums.

“The semester is almost over. Grade my last paper and we’re done,” she simply says with very little care about his current status. But he is not that sold on it just yet, hesitation and worry is all over his face. “Did you not want it?”

“You know how much I wanted it,” he admits defeatedly. 

“Great. I wanted it too. And I want it again. So I’ll come by tomorrow again. You’ll bend me over that desk after I had your cock in my mouth, then tell me what grade I’m getting for the semester and we do it again after that.”

He is already feeling himself getting hard again. Deep down he knows he should say no, but he has no will left to fight with himself anymore. So all he does is nod and then kiss her. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, professor.” She grabs her coat from the floor and then walks out of his office like nothing happened. 

Harry falls into his chair and assesses the mess on and around his desk, staring at the spot where she was sitting not long ago. He knows he is making his biggest mistake ever, but sinning has never felt this good.

And right now he is willing to take this risk.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[cliosunshine]

𝐎𝐟 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐈𝐈

Jason Todd x dragon trainer!reader

Summary: after a portal mysteriously opened in your world, setting all of your dragons loose, you must find a way to take them all back home before it's too late and before you catch feelings for a certain cute guy in a red helmet

Warnings: none, slight mention of mythological creature abuse, Jason and reader begin to bond

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: second part to my first ever fic! I was happy so many of you enjoyed it, please let me know if you'd like a third part <3

As you walked around the cave, all you could do was admire the advanced technology surrounding you. You were craning your head up to get a better view of the animatronic T-Rex, a cup of tea in your hand. It was kindly offered to you by what you could only assume to be Batman’s butler, Alfred. The old man had kind eyes and also gave you a slice of pecan pie, which you really couldn’t refuse, especially after everyone in the room heard your stomach grumbling.

“So, tell me,” you started to say, swishing the amber liquid in your cup, “how can we find a way to get me and my dragons back home if we don’t know who opened the portal in the first place and where it was activated?”

Batman let out a contemplative hum, his back turned to you. He was sitting at the console typing away. “We need to check all of the security cameras in the city and also take a look at the air’s static and electromagnetic radiations that have possibly interfered with the electronic devices in Gotham”

The others were in the room as well, each one of them with their brows furrowed, having clearly switched to ‘professional’ mode, as you liked to call it.

With their domino masks and helmets gone, you could see how the three young men – Nightwing, Red Hood and Robin – starkly resembled Batman. You didn’t know why they decided to reveal their identities. Thinking it over, you realised they actually didn’t since you couldn’t recognise them and they hadn’t given you their real names. It probably figured that since you came from another universe altogether, you’d pose no threat to their identity.

Your gaze lingered on Red Hood’s face. He had a rugged yet defined look to him that didn’t let your eyes glance away. Be it the greenish eyes, the white streak on is hair or the scar on his neck, but you couldn’t look away. You must’ve been staring pretty intensely since he lowered his gaze onto yours, a slight blush creeping up his neck and covering his ears.

You quickly looked away, your own face heating up in embarrassment at being caught.

Jason cleared his throat, trying his best not to let a chuckle escape him at your flustered reaction.

Cass raised a brow at you two, tilting her head to the side curiously.

“We should go out and stop the dragons before they cause even more damage,” quipped Dick all of a sudden, quickly rising to his feet with newfound energy.

You clasped your hands together, nodding in agreement.

“Yes! We should-”

Roarrr

Your brows furrowed at the noise. It clearly came from the batcave, but that wasn’t a voice you recognised at all.

You looked at the others with a puzzled expression. They all seemed rather calm and even amused by the sound.

“This way, Goliath, please, use your legs for once in your life-”

You turned to where Robin’s voice came and your expression lit up upon seeing the cutest and fluffiest red dragon just mere meters from you.

“Aww who’s this now?” you asked as you approached the creature.

Robin pushed the dragon towards you to no avail and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene.

“He’s- Goliath-” he explained between pushes, clearly out of breath.

The dragon eyed you warily.

You smiled softly at him, extending a hand for him to sniff, “He can probably smell the other dragons on me,” you explained as you saw his ears perk up upon smelling your skin.

He gave you a look of approval and you began stroking his red fur. It was far softer than you had anticipated and it had a weird feeling to it. You pulled your hand back, examining it.

You grimaced as you saw your entire hand covered in a shiny, slippery substance.

“Why is he covered in oil?”

Robin gave you a pleading look for half a second, before regaining his usual stoic composure.

“He’s been itching a lot for the past few weeks and we figured that-…uhm…the best way to treat him was to put an ointment on his body,” he explained, your wild out gaze on his making him freak out internally that he somehow messed up.

“Poor Goliath,” you cooed at the dragon, scratching his chin. You were grateful that you couldn’t bring Obsidian in the cave with you or he would have thrown a jealous fit. You continued your ministrations as you gave him a once over. His skin was reddened because of the itch and the ointment and he continued to scratch his ears.

“I think he may have a skin infection,” you diagnosed, cleaning your hands with a tissue Robin gave you. “If I were at the sanctuary, I would make him a sage compress and given him a two-week treatment.”

You sighed in contemplation, wondering what to do.

Robin came over to you, a map in his hands, “Gotham’s botanical park is a few blocks away from here. Nobody’s there during the night so maybe we could break in and get the ingredients you need.”

You raised your brows at him, amused by the fact that a vigilante would actually commit a break in and theft.

Sounds of agreement followed his proposition and you could only nod along.

“We can drop by and get the ingredients while we search for the other dragons,” suggested Nightwing, looking over at you. You nodded again.

“Great then,” he said, clapping his hands once, “We need to separate so we can cover more ground,”

Immediately hands flew up and shouts were exchanged about who was going to team up with who.

“I wanna go with the bat!” snickered Spoiler, “I can’t wait to see him try to catch a dragon”

Batman still had his back turned, but was definitely listening to the conversation because his shoulders stiffened.

“No, I must go with Batman, I’m Robin after all-”

“You wouldn’t even tease him like I would!”

The bickering stopped as everyone’s attention snapped onto Orphan, who was signing something.

“What did she say?” you asked, not being able to understand her and honestly just having learned a few signs for one of your deaf dragons, nothing more.

Nighwing beamed, “She said that you and Hood over here should team up and search for both the dragons and the herbs together”

Oh.

You and Red Hood both looked at each other and you suddenly registered what was bound to happen.

You and this incredibly attractive stranger on Obsidian’s back.

Oh fuck.

You laughed nervously and he seemed to mimic you.

“Uhm, alright then,” you squeaked out, feeling everyone’s eyes on you, even Batman’s.

“Off you go, then, shoo,” Nightwing escorted you to the exit of the batcave, earning more than a few grumbled cusses from Red Hood – or should you just call him Hood?

You hardly managed to choke out a “goodbye” before the door closed centimetres from your face.

“What a dickhead,” said the vigilante next to you, this time with only his domino mask on, “I apologise on his behalf- he doesn’t know when to shut up,” he says with an irritated groan.

You chuckle at that, reassuring him. As you approached your dragon, you glanced up at him once more, taking in how his sharp features contrasted greatly with the soft curls of his black hair.

The moonlight gave him a sort of vampiresque look and you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes seemed to…glow? It seemed as if his blueish-greenish eyes did a complete 180 and became this neon green colour.

You narrowed your eyes at that, continuing to walk.

Meanwhile, Jason side eyed you the entire walk back to Obsidian.

His mind wandered as he tried to come up with possible explanations about this whole situation. Who were you and where did you even come from. He wasn’t buying the whole “Oh, I come from Earth!” thing and neither were his brothers. Maybe there was a possibility that you truly came from a parallel universe were apparently dragons existed, but then why hadn’t they had at least one encounter with these anomalies before?

He thought back to Superman and Krypton. Although it probably wasn’t the exactly same thing, he guessed that if Bruce was allies and friends (although he’d never admit it) with Clark, then anything was possible.

He also found you really pretty and not alien-looking at all, but that’s beside the point.

His eyes wandered back to the lasso on your utility belt. He had sworn that when it was up in the air, swinging above your head in loose circles it looked exactly like Wonder Woman’s.

He had to ask you about that later. For now, he could only grief his bike even further as he took a good look at the dragon in front of him that looked like it wanted to tear his head off.

He could only reciprocate the glare as your back was turned to both of them, fishing out your list of ingredients that were needed to make the compress.

“Ok, so” you started, oblivious to the death stare contest between Jason and the dragon, “are you ready for a once-in-a-lifetime experience?”

Jason looked at your excited expression and gulped nervously when your dragon huffed begrudgingly, clearly not wanting to let him on.

“You sure about me getting on this thing?” Those were fighting words for the dragon, who shrieked offended at being called a thing.

You tried to not worsen things further, putting your palm out in dissuasion, smiling nervously.

“He can understand your every word, Hood” you explained, your nervous and apologetic tone prompting Jason to see in the corner of his eye how the black dragon huffed in agreement, the smoke coming out of his nostrils making him wince.

He rubbed his neck sheepishly, “Sorry, I didn’t realize”

You waved him off with a smile, “It’s all good. Have you ever ridden a horse before?”

Jason took a second to think to himself – have I ever rode a horse before? - . He didn’t know if he had no memory of doing so from all the concussions he’s had this year alone or because your gaze was making him slightly nervous. Yeah, it was probably the latter.

“No,” was all he manged to blurt out, really not wanting to get on your dragon’s back.

“Good, because it’s nothing like it!” You laughed out, your shoulders relaxing, “I feared you would’ve been one of those people who tried to get Obi moving by slightly kicking on his stomach because trust me – it would’ve ended badly”

Jason didn’t find humour in that, but chuckled along nevertheless.

He watched as you hopped on your dragon’s back with elegance and precision, not a single movement wasted. He also took notice at how Obsidian helped you up by lowering one of his wings. He put his helmet on, missing your disappointed look at his now covered face.

“Come on, take my hand and put your right foot on Obi’s wing bone” you instructed as you pointed at where your foot previously was, your other hand outstretched for him to take.

Jason looked at your hand, then at your face. He looked at your hand again.

You couldn’t possibly lift half his body weight up with a single hand, right? A hand that was significant smaller than this, nonetheless.

“Are you sure about this? I’m a big guy, I don’t want to – Oh shit!”

He didn’t finish his sentence as you bent down to grab his hand and Obsidian nudged his foot on his wing, only to lift his whole body up as if he weighted nothing and fling him up in the hair. Jason screamed as he tried not to fly right into the bush behind you. He thankfully didn’t as your tight grip on his hand prevented him from becoming the next rocket man of Gotham.

He landed right behind you, his whole body shaking as he tried to regain his composure.

“Don’t worry about me, Obi does all the heavy lifting,” you said as you laughed so much that tears started to form at the corners of your eyes. Your dragon seemed to mimic your laugh with huffs and puffs as he moved his head up and down with closed eyes.

Behind you, sitting with an unamused expression and arms crossed over his chest, Jason had a half-mind to just ditch the two of you and walk to the botanic garden alone.

Your laugh quieted down and you looked back at him, this time with a genuinely apologetic look in your eyes.

He lifted the corners of his mouth ever so slightly, thankful for his helmet covering his face.

At least someone had the guts to mess with him like that.

“Hold on tightly. I’m warning you, I’ll try to go as slowly as I can but Obi doesn’t like men that much and will actively try to throw you off, so it’s better if you hold onto me, that way he won’t do it,” you told Jason and he glanced down at the dragon, who was already looking at him with an already mischievous look in his eyes. Fucking hell. He hoped to survive his first ever dragon ride.

Jason lifted his hands that were previously on his lap and carefully held your waist, only his gloves and a few layers of clothes separating your skin from his. He swore he could feel the warmth radiating from your body.

“I said tighter, Hood,” you told him in a firmer tone, to which he responded by getting closer to you and pressing his chest to your back, his arms now circling your waist tightly.

He could feel your heartbeat picking up significantly and smiled to himself.

“O-okay, that’s better,” you managed to squeak out before tapping your dragon’s neck once.

The sudden movement made him spread out his wings and soon enough you found yourselves up in the air, taking in Gotham’s skyline from above.

Jason couldn’t help but bring you in even tighter, trying his best not to hinder your mobility as you tapped Obsidian’s ears to signal when to turn, opting your practiced tapping signs rather than having to shout out directions, now that you had someone else riding with you.

“Is this the place?” you turned around towards Jason as you got closer to a sign that had “Gotham Public Botanic Garden” written in dark green letters.

Jason nodded, not being able to utter a sound as the proximity between you two made him nervous. He was accustomed to being held from behind when he rescued civilians and tried to take them someplace safe, but to hold on to someone and trust them with his life as he travelled on a dragon’s back? Yeah, that was a new one for him.

You patted Obsidian’s back twice, prompting him to land near the entrance. Thankfully no one was in sight as Jason figured you would’ve gotten more than a few odd looks.

He was the first one to hop off the dragon’s back, already missing your body’s warmth as he tried to hold on to whatever remains where left of it on his leather jacket.

You then slid down, petting Obsidian’s snout with tenderness and placing your lips near his spiked cheek, “Thanks, Obi. Now let’s go, we need to find quite a few things to help Goliath out.”

As you made your way through the various greenhouses, Jason walked by your side and Obsidian on the opposite one, protecting you from harm.

If he could say one good thing about that damn dragon, Jason would praise him for his protectiveness over you. He noticed how, from the very start, he always kept his eyes trained on you, not missing a single sign of discomfort and immediately taking action when he felt like you were being threatened.

Other than that, he was a complete jerk.

You continued to walk in peaceful silence that was only interrupted by you telling him you found another herb needed for the compress.

When you had almost gone through the whole list, Jason spoke up.

“How do you know so much about dragons?” he asked, curiosity lacing his voice.

You smiled fondly at nothing in particular, as if reminiscing some good memories.

“You see,” you continued walking, your gaze never leaving the herbs in your hand, “I was absolutely distraught at how the majority of the people where I come from treat animals that aren’t your usual house pets, especially dragons. They would more often than not abuse, torture and kill them just for fun or to boast to others how they managed to kill a dragon-” you cut yourself off with a shaky breath, anger evident in your voice and your eyes.

Obsidian nudged your arm with a sad face, letting out a low grumble and you smiled weakly at him. Jason wanted to put an arm around your shoulders and pull you close to him, but he restrained himself.

“I found Obi one morning while working out in the park,” you continued, “and he was so cute, sitting there in that box that he accidentally had set on fire, so chubby and round with those big amber eyes- gosh he was adorable,” you chuckled, a single tear managing to escape and running down your cheek. Jason’s hand twitched by his side.

“I took him home. My parents were seething with rage at the thought of me taking care of a dragon, an animal everybody in our community despised. So I left home and went to live with my best friend, Katie, in a house near our hometown’s lake and from there, piece by piece, we learned more about dragons as we rescued them.”

Jason stayed silent, your words making him see you in a new light. He admired your strength and perseverance, your will to not give up and go against your parents to do what you knew was right. He saw a lot of himself in you and he liked that.

“That’s incredible…wait, I never got your name” he paused embarrassed, having completely forgotten to ask your name at the batcave.

You smiled softly, not a hint of offence in your kind eyes, “No biggie,” you shrugged light-heartedly, “it’s Y/N”.

“That’s a pretty name.”

“Thanks”

You stayed like that for a while, content in the silent agreement you both had settled upon. Jason liked you. you weren’t over the top like his siblings were, but also not a complete recluse who disdained human contact, as often found himself to be like. You were…you. And he liked that.

Soon enough, you had gathered all your ingredients and were getting back onto Obsidian’s back. This time the dragon was much gentler with Jason. He probably felt the shift in demeanour you and him had during the walk and eased up on him. Jason was grateful for not getting hauled up like a ragdoll a second time.

As you were back up into the air, a sense of tranquillity engulfed the both of you before a faraway shriek reminded Jason that you still had another dozen or so more dragons to find and bring back to the manor.

Exchanging a look with you, he observed you directing Obsidian to where you had heard the sound, before a blaze interrupter your path and a pair of glowing eyes were set on the three of you.

Jason’s blood ran cold and his mouth moved faster than his thoughts could as he pointed a gun at the fire-spitting dragon.

“That’s the fucker that melter my bike!”

[leoruby-draws]

I did a whole bunch of drawings for Jason's team two weeks back, so now its time to concentrate on Steph's team! Here we've got 4 new characters for her team, with a couple extra tomorrow as well. Lets go into to them, one by one.

First up is the lantern for the group, more specifically a Violet Lantern apprentice aka Miri Riam! Her reasons for coming to earth is unknown at the moment but they seem to have some connection to Carol Ferris. Carol's also a Violet Lantern and Hal's(Green Lantern) on-and-off girlfriend and occasional antagonist. Perhaps Miri was sent to become Carol's apprentice? I've got more info on whats happening there, but thats for later.

As for why Miri was chosen for the group, I knew I wanted some kind of Lantern for the team, but couldn't find a green lantern that was both in Steph's age group and have fun interactions with them. But then I thought, does it have to be a green lantern? I had a red lantern for Jason's group after all. I looked around and found Miri! I don't know her exact age but I knew she was a young adult, so I'm just gonna have her be around Steph's age group.

The Violet Lanterns Corps are very ...enthusiastic about the power of love and Miri's no exception. She wants everyone to know the joy of Love, she's honestly kinda annoying about it. I remember this one GL issue where she was destroying a city just to get Kyle and Soranik to resolve their love troubles. That pretty much became the basis for how I'm writing Miri's personality. Like I said above, I'll get more into Miri at a later time.

Next is Maxine Hunkel aka Cyclone, granddaughter of Ma Hunkel aka the golden age Red Tornado! I already posted a drawing of her a while back, I thought she'd make a fun fit for the team. She's has such high energy and so much enthusiasm I couldn't help but find her utterly endearing. I think at a later point she'll end up joining the JSA but for now she's just having fun with this team.

Btw I thought that maybe her grandmother, Ma Hunkel, could fit a similar role that the other Red Tornado did for Young Justice, helping out a young hero team. Just a way to emphasize how Steph and Tim's teams can serve as foils to each other.

Next up is the archer of the group, Mia Dearden aka Speedy II. Tho she should probably have a different name due to Roy still being Speedy atm. Maybe Speedette? Ehhh, gotta workshop that.

Anyways here's Mia and Steph meeting as civilians, with Mia showing off her bow. Mia seems to be in some sort of school uniform, perhaps Oliver is sponsoring her to go to a fancy academy? Her backstory is similar to canon, with Oliver saving her from bad people. I'm not sure if her story should be exactly the same as canon, since Mia is 10 but terrible things like that do happen in real life to young children. But I don't know if a goofy au like mine is the best place to show that. But for now lets just say Mia is currently trying to heal and become a hero like Green Arrow.

I imagine Steph and Mia get along really well, they just get each other in a lot of ways. Steph can see Mia might be hurting inside and wants to cheer her up, hopefully with all of Mia's new friends she can.

Last up is Jaime Reyes aka Blue Beetle III. Unfortunately I haven't drawn him all that much so no individual drawing for him, tho I do like him.

As for why Jaime, I remember liking him in the YJ cartoon and found him pretty likeable in the comics as well. But I've always like the spiderman hero archetype anyways, which Jaime fits really well (I mean, it was done on purpose). Static and Sideways also fit the archetype and are in the team as well. Arguably you can say add Steph to this too, probably more than Tim in my personal opinion.

Another reason I wanted to add Jaime is that he and Steph almost became teammates in canon, in a failed Young Justice project. What could have been huh. Third reason is more silly tho, if Barbara and Ted Kord start to date in this au, imagine how grossed out Steph and Jaime will be lmao.

So there's four new teammates for the team, but! I've got a couple extra for tomorrow! And later on I hope to finally post some more doodles of these characters (some of them are real old, more than a year old). Especially Miri, she turned out to be such a fun character, and I've always liked the all the lantern corps. Here's a bonus doodle of them btw (with bonus unmasked Sideways):

So many new members, well, hope you liked all that!

[inthebeginning-rebellion]

Anyway my google docs are a mess right now but this I liked and this I will share.

Fade Birth

feat. she/her Rook and a romanced Emmrich.

-=-=-

He’d lived so much longer than he anticipated.

Fifty-two had seemed ancient, the decade and change gap between himself and Rook a yawning, gaping chasm of guilt and fear. By sixty-two, the fear had waned, and the grey speckling Rook’s hair and the way she complained about her knees bridged the gap most humorously. Seventy-two had come along compliantly enough, and had been spent consoling his beloved at her finally having to hang up the massive warhammer she simply could not swing the way she once could. Sword and shield, she groused, did not have the same ‘oomph’. The cane came around eighty-two, and he found he did not mind it so much as he may have once feared, especially when Rook gifted him an elegant bone and bronze one, carved with flowers and a skull atop the handle.

‘You look very distinguished. And you can hit people with it.’

He was still giving lectures and traveling back and forth from the Lighthouse and the Necropolis at ninety-two, his bibliography tripled from now almost forty years of partly residing in the Fade. Many conversations with spirits, the dead, and study of the Fade itself had left him with a variety of theories on longevity as a cause, and he began to wonder when, precisely, he would pass. He was still sharp of mind and wit, if more tired and inclined to sit than he had once been. He could not do nearly half the things he had once done while traveling with their companions on a quest to stop the gods, but his plants flourished and his career was storied. Manfred had begun attending his own adventures- never quite the linguist, he had become remarkably adept at magic in a way no wisp he had ever heard of had. He was a being of great depths, read voraciously, and had assisted in his own world-saving venture some decades ago that left Emmrich and Rook speechless and stunned. A wisp of curiosity, a man grown.

Each night, he had a cup of tea and Rook’s hand in his while they watched the mysterious depths of the Fade pass them by at the Lighthouse.

Glorious tranquility, eternity laid out before him.

At one-hundred and two, as per his request, Rook entombed him in the center of his study at the Lighthouse. A carved stone garden and gilded placard, his skull resting on a pedestal in the shape of an open book. He’d long wondered where he should put himself, if he should be put to rest with his parents, but as Rook had once said to him… Stories were about change. And so he was interred at home, where students could seek him out if they so wished.

She was struggling in her own advanced age, decades of hard combat and abuse to the body. Still, she often took his skull in her arms and climbed the staircase to sit on the balcony with him, to watch the Fade as he’d so loved to do. She talked to him, sat with him and conversed with Manfred.

He could not say, but he heard it all. Some spark of the man beating within the bones. Sometimes Manfred looked at him so intently that he thought for certain there must still be something there. Interesting, to have that thought. Obviously, there must be a remnant that Manfred could see, since that remnant could think enough that it might be there.

And so there was.

Rook died not too long after he did, a year or so later, sitting on the balcony with his bones and two cold cups of tea, one half sipped.

Quite suddenly, as the love fractured within that beating spark, he was standing there with his own skull. He felt old and young all at once, lines of life and death stretching out in eddies and waves out the window and all around him.

Not without her. Never without her.

Emmrich reached down and grasped her hand, and he pulled the way he had pulled decades ago to pull her from the Fade prison. Whatever energy he had grown here latched onto the dying embers of her own and empowered them, infused them, blew them into a roaring inferno as he dragged Rook out of her corpse and into his arms.

Glorious, to swing her around once again. Laughter bubbled into weeping into euphoria.

They stood before their own remains, luminous and starry-eyed.

“Emmrich…?”

“Darling.”

“Where… how are we-?”

“Oh my dearest, let’s not think too hard on it.”

She glittered with laughter, lines smoothed away by whatever soul tether the Fade had seen fit to gift them. He wondered if he looked younger than when they had met, or if, perhaps, they were seeing each other the way they held each other in their minds. In their souls? Perhaps the Fade, living here, had simply allowed them to imprint onto their remains in a method that went beyond what transpired at the Necropolis. This was not demonic and it was not a haunting, it was light and simplicity.

“Well… we can think on it later. I admit I have theories.”

“Oh my love, of course you do.”

From below there was a rattling scramble, boots on wood, and the guttural rasping cry of Manfred.

"Knew it!! Saw you!! Missed you!"

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

"All in the average contract, for a Witcher. New and interesting adventures always seem to pop up, destiny's hand, no doubt... but I am used to the things most never will be. Just the way the Path goes. Rather like you Skelligers sailing a sea and going raiding, I reckon. Never a dull moment. Appreciate the offer, but won't be necessary. Don't need as much sleep as you normal folk. Save your energy, in case your enemies decide to be stupid and attack us. Until then, sweet dreams."

Eskel's low, amused voice returned to the Skellige woman, marred features smirking faintly with a chuckle, shaking his head. Not long afterwards, their games concluded when exhaustion found her, and while he remained on watch peering out into the woods, she prepared herself and her bedroll and to drift off. In between work on his alchemy set, his potions and bombs, he took the time to sip from his mixed bottle of Mahakaman Spirit and White Gull, savoring the welcome burning sensation in his throat and chest, between mouthfuls of leftover Blue Mountain Stew and bread. Enhanced senses listening to the peaceful sounds of the falling rain, the distant ships in the harbor and at sea and the sounds of the animals of the forest. Regardless of the difficulties on the Path, it was always helpful to have simple tastes, ones far easier to maintain, and little in the way of expectations. To be contented easily. Soon after, Breina had drifted off altogether, leaving the Witcher there to complete his work, readying himself until morning. Rising now and again to patrol the area or gather more wood to keep the fire going. Fortunately, they either weren't found by her enemies or they proved smarter than not, none of his magical traps being set off by them, animals or monsters. When the sun began to rise hours later, it wasn't long before he sensed her wake again, and his viper gaze turned her way again from his spot by the fire. Deep, relaxed tone greeting her with a nod.

"Morning. Was just about to wake you, but didn't fancy a concealed blade or axe being swung my way. Seen how you islanders get when your beauty sleep is disturbed. Breakfast, or should we set out now?"

Eskel's mutilated visage smirked at Breina's suggestion they find out if he was a match for her in physical matters... he certainly wouldn't turn any of the offers down, if it came to it. Time would tell, when they reached the islands. In the meanwhile he focused on their Gwent games... she did well for her age, and the Skellige deck was not without its own advantages. Forced him to alter his usual strategies. He won more than not with his experience, but she got some good wins with her aggressive style. The key was luring aggressive players into traps, then hitting them with weather cards... but it wasn't always a guarantee. Before he knew it, a good deal of time had passed, and her yawns made it quite clear that exhaustion was finally catching up with her. Looking up from the cards her way, viper eyes studying the young woman, he nodded his agreement, glancing about the camp and woods as well for good measure. There was no sense putting his time standing watch to waste while she got some rest. With that thought in mind, his deep voice returned to her calmly.

"Don't worry about it. You have not undergone the Trials, don't possess my mutations. You require more sleep than a Witcher does. Not half bad at this game, at least, we'll play again on the ship. Dice as well. Get some shut eye... I'll wake you in the morning. Have some potions and blade oils to brew and bombs to craft in the meantime anyways, for the voyage ahead. Monsters liable to attack the ship. I'll keep an eye out for those friends of yours too. You'll know if they're foolish enough to stumble into this camp."

The Witcher smiled at her, then gathered up all his cards again on that note, tucking them away into the pouch he kept them in, before at last rising from the fire and making his way towards his saddlebags laying nearby. Kneeling, he retrieved his alchemy set, the appropriate ingredients for his potions and oils, spare vials as well as empty bomb shells and fuses, the components they would need. When he had everything he would require, he returned to the fire, sitting down near it and setting up his alchemy set and tools. Getting to work. While not his favorite part of the profession, he kept his skills honed every bit as much as his fighting skills where alchemy was concerned... and given the monsters out on Skellige and in the sea approaching it, he wasn't about to be caught unprepared. He hadn't lasted this long on the Path not having backup options for the many dangers he had to deal with on his own. Even so, he welcomed the rare company she would be, her own knowledge in her homeland and when they were on the sea. Something told him despite all his knowledge he had more left to learn of the Skellige Islands and her folk's ways.

@deathswcrn

[triglycercule]

horror bragging about he's immortal and allat to killer and dust (because he genuinely thinks he is. like he literally came back from the DEAD that is a proud accomplishment!!!! bro probably brags all the time about it like "heh even if you hit me hard i'll just get back up. bitch")

and then killer's like alright bet! let's test that out! and then he starts going on an all out chase for horror's head. and dust just follows along because hey why the fuck not it sounds fun and it would be nice to knock horror down a peg or two :3 frantic running from horror ensues because as much as he'd like to stick by his claim he REALLY cannot be going around risking to see if him being immortal is actually true 💀

[phantajam]

my hot take about descendants is that NONE of the core four were ready for a relationship until maybe like, the third movie (rant in tags)

[vanmarkus]

oh i'm back on my slavic kick. i'm sure that'll bode well for me and everyone in my vicinity

[complicit-rot]

i haven't been this social & talkative in Years someone drag me out back

[lymtw]

Aftercare with Toji, where after all the roughness and manhandling is over with, he can't take his eyes off of you. All he cares about is making sure that you're not in excruciating pain, yet he hasn't been able to say a word for the past five minutes. You've pressed so many tender kisses to his face and expressed that you're okay enough times to him, but he can't seem to drop the smallest, lingering coil of guilt he feels at the sight of your scuffed up body. You look like you fought off a bear and ripped octopus tentacles off your skin—simultaneously, with all the scratches, bruises, and hickeys that littered you from your jaw to your ankles.

"Quit staring," you say, bringing your knees up and crossing your arms, your hands gripping your biceps.

"Nah- baby..." he finally says, softly, like he's quickly trying to justify the gaze he had set on you. "Come here."

Toji makes quick work of crushing this wave of insecurity that threatens your peace. He knows what you just endured was not the softest experience, and that you practically let him—a man capable of showing the aggression of a pack of wolves, devour you. Really, he did not hold back at all.

You slide down the bed and pull the covers over your body, laying your head on his chest with an arm thrown over his midsection. He pulls you close with an arm wrapped around your shoulder, and kisses the top of your head. "You know I love you, right, mama?"

"Mhm," you hum. Minutes ago you would have thought those words were a cruel joke being played on you with the way he gripped onto you like he wanted it to hurt.

"Wasn't trying to hurt your feelings by staring at you like that. Just did a lot of damage, this time, and it looks like it hurts... a lot."

"I'm fine," you repeat, for the nth time. You look up at him, briefly, sparing a smile before resting your cheek on his chest again. "A hot shower will melt it all away, I promise," you mumble.

He brushes over one of the many stains he left on the side of your neck. "My little trooper," he sighs, very much relaxed by your side. "You know i'd be proud even if you told me you were hurting." He knows it'll take more than a shower to get all these new semipermanent tattoos off your pretty skin, but for the sake of not making you feel small, again, he shuts up about it.

"I know," you assure. "I just don't wanna burden you. You're probably just as tired, if not more."

"What do you need?"

You lift your head again and look at him, confusion filling out your features. "You heard me, didn't you? I can take care of myself."

"I know that, and I don't doubt it for a second, but you're really gonna reject me?" He hisses, dramatically clutching his chest. "Damn, mama, just like that?"

"Well, no. Of course not-"

"Right. Of course not," he says, with that horrible tendency he has of cutting you off when the situation benefits you. "Gonna ask you one more time, and if you don't answer, i'm just gonna do what I want for you. What do you need?"

You had to think about it for a minute, about how you wanted him to help you. Independence shone through your thoughts. Everything he could help you with, you could also do alone. You didn't want to be needy.

"Five..." He's timing you, now. "Four..." The countdown has your brain scrambling to pick something. Anything, but you're blanking, losing second by second the already little time you were gifted. "Three... it shouldn't be this hard," he teases, a smirk on his face.

"I don't know, um."

"Two... you're gonna lose the option of telling me what to do, doll."

"No- I don't know."

"One." The countdown ends. "Alright," he groans, pulling you up with him as he sits up. "Let's go."

–

Sure enough, once the lukewarm water hit your skin, you gained a burst of energy. You made the washing of your body an amusing, yet tedious task for Toji. With all your little excitement fueled dances and laughter, what should have been a ten minute session turned into a twenty minute one.

"Doll, turn around. Let me get your back," Toji says, holding back a grin at the sight of you trying to soothe the burning sensation you feel in your nose after inhaling water.

You turn your back to him, before jovially turning to face him again. "Joking, joking," you say, when you catch his lidded eyes. You quickly turn your back to him, again, with giggles slipping past your lips.

He sighs, unable to hold back the gentle curl of his lips any longer. "What am I gonna do with you?" He lathers you from the nape of your neck to your lower back, with soap. The contrast of the white foam and the darkened stains on your skin, were enough to have him thinking about what ended just a little over half an hour ago. There wasn't a spot on you that didn't have some mark of his on it. Your shoulder blades and spine were mottled with stains of his lips, and your hips had opaque fingerprints on them.

You winced and took a step forward, away from Toji's touch, successfully pulling him out of his zoned out state. "You're scrubbing the scratches too hard," you say, turning to him while running your hands over the tender skin.

"Shit," he gently pulls you back and turns your back to him again, "sorry, princess." A few soothing kisses are pressed into the strikes, enough of them to make you forget that it even stung in the first place. He makes sure his mind stays out of the gutter, at least until he's done washing you, so that he doesn't hurt you again.

After showering, you stayed in bed while Toji went to the kitchen to make some tea for you. He did this for you after every night of intimacy, to expedite the betterment of your exhausted throat. He also knows of the calming properties that ease you into slumber. He wants nothing more than for you to sleep off the soreness your body retains.

"There you go, baby. I know you don't like it, but it'll make your throat feel better, so you have to drink the whole thing." He settles down next to you, on his side of the bed and watches you sip on the steaming hot drink.

The familiar scrunch of your nose appears at the taste that hits your taste buds, a sight that Toji has started looking forward to. "I hate the flavor just a little more every time I drink it. Oh well," you say, taking another sip, ignoring the scalding heat that embraces your tongue.

"I know. It sucks," he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Hopefully, next time we choose correctly and get something you'll like."

You set the mug down on the nightstand and turn to him. With warm hands, you cup his cheeks and tilt his head up slightly.

"What?" He asks, his eyes directed towards you.

Your smile evolves into a short giggle as you stare at one pinpointed spot on the side of his neck. "I got you, too. Right..." you drag a finger down his neck, gently pressing on the dark spot you left on him. "...here."

His hand tracks your touch and replaces it with his own, feeling the mark. "Damn right, you did. You got me, baby," he says through a grin. "My turn?"

You sigh, with faux irritation. "Fiiine."

"Let's see..." He cups your cheeks the way you did his. "I got this whole area here." His thumb brushes over your jawline, dragging beneath it to where the marks end. "Then there's this entire patch right here." He turns your head, exposing the reddish-purple splotches on the side of your neck to the light. His eyes trace the slope that leads to your shoulder, spotting the marks that remain visible beneath the collar of your shirt. He coordinates his touch with his sight, dragging his fingers over your delicate skin. "Right here," he says, after pulling the collar of your shirt down your shoulder, revealing more of his marks.

"Okay, okay. You win," you say fixing your shirt, covering up again.

"There's one right there," he continues, tapping the column of your neck. "Some more there," his finger glides over your left collarbone.

"Toji, I swear, if you point out one more, i'm gonna bite your finger off."

He stares at you silently, the corners of his lips twitching as you watch him, intently. After a few seconds, he slowly starts directing his finger towards a mark on your chest. Once he makes contact with your skin, he gently presses on the smear of color that marks it, still holding eye contact with you. "Here, too."

You swat his hand away from you, and huff. "Why did I even try to threaten you? You want me to bite your finger off, huh?"

"Not in the slightest. I just knew you weren't actually gonna do it, so I pushed it."

You cross your arms. "Whatever. I'm just gonna put a hoodie on so you can't look at them anymore."

"Woah, baby, put down the knife," he says, hands up in playful surrender. "No need to take drastic measures over this. Don't hide all my hard work."

"Hard work," you mutter, an incredulous scoff following.

Toji's gaze falls on your lips. "You're pouting like you wanna be kissed," he teases.

"And you're... you're being annoying," you say, covering your mouth with your hand, concealing the involuntary lift of your lips.

"Yeah, but you still want me to kiss you," he says, with a sly, knowing smirk on his face. "Look at you. Look at that blush. Even your knuckles are red, doll."

"Oh my god..." you groan with embarrassment. You use both hands to cover your entire face, now.

He chuckles, pulling you into his arms. "You're so pretty, ma. A total work of art." His hands have never gotten lost on you, but for now, in any way he holds you, he'll be able to see the trails his lips left behind.

"Stop..." you mumble, smiling softly at the sweetness poured into his words.

"You look mine, with all these marks," he says, pulling down the collar of your shirt a little, to see the blots of color that appear at the start of your spine.

"Shut up," you say, blushing furiously against his chest.

"Sounds like you still want that kiss, huh?"

"Not anymore," you say, lifting your gaze to meet his. The look in your eyes betrays every ounce of your denial. Toji can very clearly tell that you're lying.

"Those rosy cheeks are saying something else," he says, grinning. "Damn, look at those pretty lips. They're ready for me."

"If you want to kiss me, just say so," you chide, lightheartedly.

"I'm gonna kiss you so hard, doll," he says, cupping your cheeks again. "Your lips lack a little more of me."

[kitten4sannie]

backstage bukakke with ateez ♡

a/n: is anyone in need of post coachella performance brainrot?? :33 and if any of you were wondering,, no i’m not okay 🙂‍↔️🫶🏼 without further ado, here’s a LOT more backstage debauchery (like i went insane….i should be in a padded cell rn….) except this time san brought the whole crew to help drown you in cum <333 enjoy the meal my dears bc i can never show my face in public again after this 😭😭

w.c: 2.4k

warnings: alcohol use, subby fem manager! reader, free use, domteez, gangbang, who’s the biggest menace here? that’s for you to decide 🫵🏼, this is just complete filth btw,, dirty talk, degradation/praise, pet names/name calling, so much cum….., yungi confirm the big cock allegations, hongjoong might have a captain kink idk, double penetration, anal, implied sloppy seconds/thirds/fourths kskssb, brief tit play, brief oral, cum eating, size kink, bulge kink, breeding, creampies for days, a bukakke as promised <3

Once the members sent out their last waves and finger hearts to the adoring fans and locals in the vast festival crowd, they made their way back to their temporary dressing room to catch their breath and have a celebratory drink or two. Brimming with adrenaline and energy due to their momentous performance, they erupted in enthusiastic greetings as soon as their dear manager entered the room, a few of them draping their arms around your shoulders to give you a quick hug.

“Manager-nim, did you like the show?” San spoke up, bringing his glass up to his mouth, taking a small sip of the potent liquor.

“You know you can just call me by my name, San, and I thought you guys absolutely killed it, like always,” you replied, scanning their faces, lightly adjusting the hem of your work blazer. No matter how many times you had all of their eyes and attention on you, you couldn’t seem to get used to it. It always made you feel hot under the collar, not knowing what was going through each of their minds when they looked at you the way they did. With interest. Hunger.

San couldn’t help but smirk, his dimples visible. You had taken the bait. He watched Yunho serve you a glass of whiskey. “You’re right. We’re way past titles, aren’t we? Especially considering the way I had you bent over for me right after our set last weekend.”

You choked on the liquor, your body suddenly feeling hot, especially under the heated gaze of the men standing around you. “S-San, behave yourself.”

He lightly licked at his lips, his gaze sharpening, ready to add to the growing heaviness of the atmosphere in the room. “Don’t act so coy now, sweetheart. You know better than that, don’t you?”

You bit into your bottom lip, looking up to Yunho for help, only to find that he was giving you an increasingly perverse smile, like he was reminiscing about something filthy.

Yunho reached down to wrap a lock of your hair around his jewelry adorned finger, sighing, “We could all hear the way Sannie fucked your brains out, doll, but you wanted us to hear, didn’t you? Even though you’re our manager, you’re still our good little slut, yeah?”

Something clicked into place inside your brain like it usually did when they talked to you like this. You could finally stop being so uptight and in control, instead allowing the eager members to do as they pleased with you. “Yeah, I am,” you nodded shyly, your insides on fire.

San took a step towards you, reaching out to run his fingers along your collar bone. “Can I ask you something?”

Your breath caught inside your throat. You knew what he was going to ask. You knew what they wanted. Despite the professional relationship you had with the members, you always seemed to end up in increasingly unprofessional situations with them. You couldn’t help it, not when they always made you feel so good. Wanted. Craved. “Say it, San….”

His pointer finger drifted down your chest, along the seam of your blazer, gazing down at you. “Can we make you our whore, Manager-nim?”

The members exchanged pleased glances with one another, some of them pulling at the crotch of their tailored pants.

“As long as someone locks the door, okay?” you answered underneath your breath, your eyes beginning to glaze over with lust.

San simply took a step around you, running his hands up and down your shoulders, coaxing you out of your blazer and unzipping your work dress, presenting you to his beloved members like you were a treat — one they would savor together.

-

“Don’t pass out on us now, baby,” San’s husky voice attempted to reach you through the fog you were in, his fingers gently rubbing at the fresh load that had splattered onto your flushed cheek, sliding his digits into your panting mouth for you to clean. “How many was that, hm? How many cocks have been inside you so far? Can our slutty manager remember?”

You stopped counting long ago, too fucked out to think about whose cock had already rearranged your insides and who had stuffed your ass full. You couldn’t even remember who had fucked your face either, but your sore jaw was proof that it was most likely one of the more gifted members. “I-i don’t know how many, just want more,” you whined out, looking up at San past your wet lashes.

“Yeah, you always want more from us, don’t you, baby? Want us to go to our limit? Want us to give you our all, huh? Are you going to milk us all dry like a good slut?”

You could hardly listen to his breathy, self-serving monologue, not with the way Wooyoung was gripping your hips and shoving his thick cock into you with abandon, like you were his own personal sex doll. “Uh-huh, wanna be good for you all…”

“How precious,” San sighed under his breath, all while he jerked himself off, beads of pre-cum spilling out of the twitching tip, watching the way his closest friend pumped himself in and out of your clenching hole, noticing the way his hips began to stutter. “Then, be good and take Wooyoung’s load inside that tight little cunt of yours, just like you took our Captain’s and Seonghwa’s earlier, okay? Can you do that for us, baby? Can you be our pretty little cum dump?”

You couldn’t speak, simply responding by squirting all over Wooyoung’s thrusting cock, just about ready to fall over from the overwhelming pleasure, but unable to with the way Mingi was behind you, his heaving chest pressing into your back, his ringed fingers lazily groping at your sore tits, balls-deep in your tight ass.

“Pretty baby, our pretty girl,” Mingi praised in a gravelly voice, his lips against your ear, squeezing your tits just as his groans began to crescendo, driving himself into you a few more times before he held still, previous loads leaking out of your ass and down the sides of his veined cock to the base as he filled you up again. “Can you feel that, babydoll? Feel the way I’m stuffing you full of cum? It feels so good, you want to cry, don’t you?”

All you could do was nod drunkenly, tears pricking at the corners of your hazy eyes, your trembling thighs growing more and more numb.

“Look at her, guys, she’s cumming just from being bred,” Wooyoung panted out, his hands squeezing into your sides, holding you still on his pulsing cock, not attempting to pull out until he was sure your inner walls were coated with his cum, chuckling smugly along with his fellow members at the way you desperately drew in another shaky breath and simply whined instead of forming words. “Poor slut can’t even talk. Someone should shoot their load down her throat. Maybe it’ll help ground her.”

“Way ahead of you,” Yeosang softly interjected, giving you a princely smile as he walked up to where you were positioned on the lengthy couch. He ran his slender fingers through your hair, slowly angling your head back as he did, bringing his slicked-up cockhead to your parted lips. “Say ‘ahh’, darling.”

Just as you obeyed, you watched Yeosang’s pretty flushed face contort in pleasure, reaching out to wrap your fingers around his pulsing length, milking it for all it’s worth, rope after rope of hot cum shooting into the back of your throat, a few dribbles remaining on your tongue. You were so full of cum, all of your holes were used up, and yet you needed more. “Not enough…More, please. I’m being such a good girl, aren’t I?”

San’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip, sharing glances with the other members, squeezing around the base of his cock to keep himself from busting right then and there. “Guys, I think we broke our manager.”

“Isn’t that the point? Look at her. She loves it,” Wooyoung pointed out, motioning to your blissed-out face, before he finally pulled out of you, reaching down to spread open your used hole, pleased sighs echoing inside the room. “Look, Sannie, her cunt’s all messy now. Ran through. Just the way you like it, huh, you sick fuck? You want sloppy seconds?”

San nodded his head, salivating, practically in a trance.

“Then, hurry up and shove your cock inside her before my cum leaks out,” Wooyoung tsked, climbing off of the cum-stained couch and smacking his hand against San’s ass to get him to spring into action, which he did, laying down on his back and sliding you down onto his cock inch by inch, but not before he tapped his leaking cockhead over your swollen clit a few times for good measure.

San’s dimples accompanied his shit-eating grin as he bottomed out, slowly running one of his hands up your lower abdomen to feel the outline of his stiff cock. “It’s so big inside, isn’t it, Manager-nim? Am I stretching you out nice and wide?”

All you could do was whimper pathetically, because not only were you taking San’s curved cock inside your cunt, but meanwhile Mingi had been showing Yunho the way your hole had begun to gape after the rough treatment you had taken, especially from someone with his size, knowing it was best that he prepped you for his best friend, knowing the term ‘horse cock’ didn’t even begin to describe what Yunho had to offer you. “It’s all for you, bro. Come and get it,” Mingi mused huskily, getting out of Yunho’s way so that he could replace him, one hand on your ass to keep it spread open for everyone’s viewing pleasure, as your hole slowly swallowed up Yunho’s obscene girth.

San and Yunho seemed to be in the middle of an intense competition, considering the way they both would continually thrust into you harder, and faster, grabbing at your tits and hips for leverage to fuck into you even deeper than before, if that was possible. “I-it’s not a–fuck–race, guys,” you cried out, suddenly being pressed back into Yunho’s warm chest when San sat up on the couch and folded you up, jack-hammering himself into you, using you like a cocksleeve. 

“Yes, it is, and I’m gonna knock you up first, not this loser,” San grunted out in between shaky moans, smiling with his canines at you, then at Yunho past your shoulder, who responded by bucking his hips up into you so roughly, he had to wrap his arms around your middle to keep you in place. 

“I’m fucking her ass, dumbass, I can’t even knock her up if I wanted to,” Yunho replied breathlessly, shaking his head, giving San a playful smile, before pressing his lips to your earlobe. “And I want to, tiny. Wish I could.” 

“Not with that attitude,” San huffed, blowing his sweaty bangs out of his eyes, his vision beginning to blur with the sudden onset of pleasure surging through him. “I’m going to fucking–unnnh–fill up your slutty cunt with my cum, baby. Gonna make it so messy. And you’re, fuck, you’re so tight now. That’s our good cumslut.” 

“The perfect cumslut,” Hongjoong interrupted in a low voice, suddenly towering over you, holding his cock near your mouth, nodding approvingly when you began to suck and lick at the tip. “That’s right. You love Captain’s cock the most, don’t you, pretty girl?” 

Seonghwa pushed his way past the other thirsty members who were hovering around you like vultures, slipping his fingers into your hair and gently guiding you to his own cock, cooing at you approvingly when you let it hit the back of your throat. He smiled smugly at Hongjoong, who was now side-eyeing him. “Stay mad. It’s not my fault she has taste.” 

“You better watch it, Seonghwa.”

“You can watch our slut suck my cock.” 

Hongjoong grumbled to himself, reaching down to tug your head back just firmly enough to lead you back to his cock, before you took it upon yourself to sandwich their lengths together so that you could please them both at once. They stopped bickering and instead held onto each other, biting into their lips as their highs began to take over. 

It was then that San and Yunho emitted similar sounding guttural groans, fully sheathing themselves inside you, their fingers squeezing tightly into your hips from either side. 

“Cumming,” they both exhaled, resting their heads on either side of your shoulder, beads of sweat dripping down their jaws and along their straining necks. 

Just as hot cum poured into both of your used holes, Seonghwa and Hongjoong began to shudder and grunt out obscenities, aiming their milky streams towards your lolled-out tongue.

San suddenly waved for Jongho to come closer, pulling out just enough so that obscene globs of cum began to leak out of you, making you whine. “Here, cum inside her, JJong. I want my favorite maknae to finish our cumslut off.”

Jongho gingerly positioned himself near your gushing entrance and plugged you back up with his thick, throbbing cock, his strong thighs smacking into your delicate ones as he vigorously bounced you on his lap. “Want it?” he simply asked near your lips, making you blush.

“Please!”

Just as Jongho pounded his load and the others deep into your womb, Wooyoung, Yeosang, and Mingi pushed their way closer to you, vigorously jerking themselves off in order to leave their own individual mark on you for the second or third time, extremely pleased with themselves once they covered their dear manager’s face and body in their cum. 

Once you all came down, you found that you couldn’t quite operate your body properly, not when your lower half was completely numb and throbbing with residual pleasure. San and Yunho took it upon themselves to cuddle you from either side, while Jongho gently rubbed your tummy in circles, wondering whose load would knock you up first. Only time would tell.

“How was that?” San asked softly near your ear. 

“We weren’t too rough with you, were we?” Yunho murmured, biting his lip. 

“How are you feeling, Manager-nim?” Jongho added gently, patting your tummy.

You sighed gently, reaching up to pat their heads, smiling at the men around you. And to think you actually got paid for this. You couldn’t have asked for a better job. “Guys…I’m fine, and for the record, it was so good, I don’t think I can ever go back to having normal sex again. I’m a bit concerned, actually.”

The rest of the members began to laugh, and you joined along, before clearing your throat, suddenly feeling uncomfortably sticky, looking down to see what you had all done to the poor couch. “Okay, so, who’s going to clean this mess up? And, it’s not going to be me. I can’t move my legs. I…think you guys actually broke me.”

San looked over to Wooyoung, who was already rolling his eyes, pointing dramatically at him. “I told you!”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[pellucid-constellations]

By the Book

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel is struggling to catch the attention of his mate. Cassian offers him some advice, but "putting the moves on you" is harder than it seems, especially since he's not a character in one of Nesta's novels.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Nothing much, just fluff and Azriel panicking <3

a/n: Enjoyyy :) And let me know what you think pleaseee!

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

“Maybe you should try something different.” 

“Something different?” 

“Yeah,” Cassian shrugged, kicking back in his chair. “Put some moves on her, give her eyes—something interesting to gain her attention.”

“I’m not just trying to gain her attention, Cassian,” Azriel grimaced. “I—” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m not an idiot. I see how you look at her. But you don’t want to scare her, you know?” 

Azriel leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You think I scare her?” 

“No, no,” Cassian assured, lazily waving his hand in the shadowsinger’s direction. “But y/n’s new. She’s still got all the nerves of working for a high lord and being in court. And she’s kind of—well, you know.” 

Azriel raised a brow, remaining silent in lieu of further questions. Cassian gave him a look, one Azriel did not replicate, and then sighed dramatically. 

“Az, come on. She’s new and she’s young. She’s all innocent and skittish. If you drop all of your big feelings on her she could run for the hills.” 

“She’s not that young,” Azriel refuted, face now pressed in confusion and contemplation.

“Young enough to be shocked by a mating bond so early in her life.” 

Cassian’s words left a blanket of silence over the room. The fireplace crackled, the chair beneath Azriel groaned, and shadows wisped around bookshelves and walls. 

“Is it obvious?”

“No,” Cassian shook his head, straightening his lax posture. “I was honestly just confirming a hunch. But now that I know…” 

“What should I do?” Azriel stressed. 

“Let me tell you a few things I’ve learned from Nesta’s interesting choice in literature.” 

~~

Azriel had waited all day for you to show up at the townhouse. Radiating nervous energy only visible in the way he continuously shook out his hands, the spymaster was armed with an arsenal of tactics Cassian swore by and a vigorous motivation. 

Part of him had been wary of the “smooth moves” the general had shared, but another part took his brother’s warnings to heart. He didn’t want to scare you off and you were rather young. Not a child by any means, but if Azriel had found his mate within his first hundred years, he probably would have panicked. 

And you were just reaching a centennial.

Gods, and Rhysand had only just hired you a few months ago. 

Before Azriel could spiral and abandon his possibly catastrophic plans, you walked in. 

Arm and arm with Feyre, you breezed through the front door with a canvas in hand and a laugh still fresh on your lips. Azriel wasn’t sure if it was the mating bond or just you that caused his chest to ache. 

When you caught his eye, a bright smile plastering onto your face, Azriel deduced that it was just you. 

“Hi, Az,” you called, unwinding yourself from Feyre and stepping close enough for Azriel to scent the paint mixing in with the sweet smell of your perfumes. “I stopped by Feyre’s studio after work. I painted the Sidra but it looks… well, just look at it.” 

Azriel trailed his gaze down to the painting, but much of him was still lost in the giggle that followed your words. The “Sidra” was more of a collection of uneven lines and dots meant to be clouds, but Azriel found himself offering a few gentle compliments despite it all. 

You tugged the painting down to your side with a disbelieving scoff, quirking a brow at the shadowsinger. “Do you make it a habit to lie to me, Az?” 

There was paint on your cheek—just a small splotch, but enough to grab his attention. 

“If she has something on her face, you reach up and get it for her. But you have to get real close and grab her face. And look into her eyes—yeah that part was important.”

Azriel’s wings rustled in anticipation at the opportunity, but he pulled them in tightly and hoped you missed the tell. The shadowsinger took a small step forward and tucked his fingers behind your ear, letting his palm press against your jaw and his thumb swipe along the paint by your nose. 

One, two passes and the pigment was gone, but he hadn’t looked into your eyes yet and Cassian said that was key. 

Hazel eyes shot up to meet your wide, unblinking gaze. Azriel held his hand against your skin for another moment, relishing in the feel of you as your mouth parted to take in a sharp breath. That sharp inhale was followed by a shaky exhale, and Azriel decided that was a good cue to release his hold. 

And although his mind was running rampant with a slew of emotions and panicked thoughts, he took a step back and looked at his thumb nonchalantly. 

“There was paint on your cheek,” he stated, because Cassian also said he needed to act stoic. 

Azriel already considered himself stoic, but that was before he had held your face in his hands. 

At some point, the painting in your hands had fallen to the tips of your fingertips, the canvas just barely hanging from your grip. You licked your lips and stuttered out a few incoherent utterances before landing on, “Oh, thank you.” 

Azriel nodded, and a beat passed with only the whisper of shadows and the shallow intake of breath. 

Until a throat was cleared behind you, and Azriel distinctly remembered that you had not walked in alone. Avoiding his high lady’s knowing gaze, Azriel jutted his hand out to a random wall in the townhouse. 

“Should we hang it up?” 

~~

You were leaning against a wall in the House of Wind, forgotten drink in hand, gazing around the room with a content gleam in your eye. Rhysand had these parties every once in a while, but this was your first time attending one. The soft way you looked at his family—at Nyx and the stubborn way he escaped his parents—made Azriel’s throat tighten. 

You were part of that family now too, whether you knew it or not. 

You were part of him—a piece of his being just steps away. 

“You put your arm above her head and talk low. If you’re feeling adventurous, a hand on her waist.” 

Right. Cassian said not to scare you. 

Revealing his undying love for you would most likely scare you. 

Azriel abandoned his drink on a platter and closed the space between you. 

Arm above your head. 

Talk low. 

A hand on your waist? Maybe. 

This was ridiculous. Azriel knew how to talk to women. He had spoken to plenty of women and they had been more than happy to oblige him. Azriel knew he was attractive and was considering throwing this whole plan away, but then you looked up at him and he found himself placing his arm above your head anyway. 

Mother save him. 

He pressed in close, his forearm just inches from your head as he gave you a soft smile. “Hello,” he greeted, sure to keep his words low.

You wrapped your drink in towards your chest and smiled back, lashes fluttering as the shadowsinger held your gaze. 

“Hi, Azriel,” you smiled back. 

Shit, what was he supposed to do now? 

“Enjoying the party?” he asked, only because you were so pretty and the bond within him was glowing with so much warmth that he could think of nothing else to say. 

You hummed. “It’s rather lively. It’s nice that Rhys invites so many of his people. I really do love this court.” 

I love you. 

No, he couldn’t say that. 

“I’m glad you approve.”

Stoic. Perfect. 

A gentle conversation flowed between you. Azriel hung his head low as he discussed past parties and strangers and restaurants along common streets, and you angled your chin up so the words spoken were just breaths away. Azriel did not move from his position and you did not escape further into the wall. 

“Do these go all night?” you asked, breaking eye contact for one of the first times since Azriel’s arrival. 

He looked over his shoulder to follow your gaze. “Sometimes. With Nyx around, maybe not tonight.” 

You took a sip of your drink. 

Azriel turned back around. 

The pull to you was inescapable. He glanced down at your waist, the way you had turned to your side to look at him directly, and then he reached out. 

His hand fit perfectly, shadows sliding out to wrap around your body. Azriel took the time to watch how his fingers pressed up to your ribs, and then, in an act much bolder than he felt, he tugged you forward and lowered his mouth to your ear. 

“Are you tired?” he asked. 

You had placed your hands on his chest during his unexpected motion, your fingers tight against his shirt. “A little,” you breathily replied. 

He could feel the warmth of your skin against his lips. Just a small turn of his head and he would taste it as well. His heart thumped painfully in his chest. 

No, Cassian had said—

“Azriel?” Your call threw him out of his thoughts. Pulling back, he met your eye. “Are you tired, too? I think I might turn in early.” 

Were you asking him to follow you? 

He would follow you anywhere. For anything. 

But if he were overstepping… 

“Would you like me to walk you back to your room? Or fly you back to your apartment?” 

You took a step back, Azriel’s hand slipping from your body. 

A piece of him melted away at the loss. 

You bit back what looked to be a smirk. “I got it. I’ll see you tomorrow, Az?” 

He watched you walk away from him, silently cursing Cassian. 

This had to have been his fault somehow. 

~~

The next opportunity Azriel got was accompanied by a flurry of concern. 

He had come to walk you home from the clinic after a long day with Majda, his shadows informing him that you were tired, overworked, exhausted. When he opened the door to your disheveled figure slumped over a counter, the bond within him sent him rushing to you. Or perhaps it was just an intrinsic drive—just the love he held for you.  

“The hair is a big one. Tuck it back behind her ear. The males in Nesta’s books always go for that one.” 

To be honest, Azriel wanted to do much more than tuck your hair behind your ear. He wanted to wrap you in his arms and fly you home and tuck you into bed. But Cassian had warned him against grand acts, so the shadowsinger accepted your tired smile with a soft one of his own. 

“A bad day?” he softly asked, tilting his head to the side and leaning over the counter. 

His hands fell just a small breadth from yours. 

You sighed in agreeance, forehead meeting the wood between you before turning back up to the male. “Come to laugh at me?” 

Your hair had fallen into your face. 

“Never,” Azriel whispered. “I’ve come to walk you home.” 

“Hmm, always walking me somewhere, aren’t you?” 

A confused smile graced the shadowsinger’s face, and then he took his brother’s advice and brushed fingers against your temple, sweeping your hair from your eyes. His touch ran down the slope of your ear, your lashes fluttering at the texture of his skin. Azriel gave into temptation and traced a line down your jaw as well, taking advantage of the tire that seemed to overcome you as you leaned into his touch. 

Cassian’s tips seemed to work so much better when the two of you were alone. 

But not too well, Azriel reminded himself, the male beginning to pull his hand from your face. 

You caught his wrist in your unsteady hand. 

“When are you going to tell me?” you accused, a slight squint in your eye. “I really do appreciate all of the stops you’re pulling out, but I’m wondering when you’ll stop walking me home and start being honest.” 

Azriel’s mouth parted in shock. “What do you—” 

“The hand on my waist was a good touch, I will say. I didn’t think you’d go that far. Especially not after you forgot to kiss me and instead offered to hang up my gods-awful painting.”

Azriel felt his face begin to heat. There was no way you had picked up on his flirting so quickly. But, Azriel thought in mortification, he had been stiff, paused too many times trying to remember Cassian’s words. Maybe he had been obvious. 

Oh, Gods. 

“Azriel,” you called. A soft call accompanied by a slight tilt of your head. He looked at you despite himself, lost in the haze you created in his mind. “Are you going to tell me now?” 

Cassian had been wrong, clearly, because the way you looked at him was so sure. You held his hand against your face and a tired smile still lit up your features and you didn’t look scared at all. 

And then the bond within him moved. 

A tug. 

And then another 

You had known all along. 

“You’re my mate.” He stumbled over the words, each falling from his mouth with haste. “My mate.” 

“I am,” you whispered, turning his hand on your cheek to press a kiss to his palm. “And you are mine.” 

“I’m going to kill Cassian,” Azriel mumbled under his breath, but the sound was lost between breaths as you surged forward to kiss him.

And Gods, did he kiss you back. He kissed you and kissed you and forgot every bit of advice from Nesta’s books, because he didn’t need it. All he needed was you and every iteration of the future that was now promised between lips. 

He should have known better than to ask for advice. 

You were his mate. 

He didn’t need sly moves to win you over. 

He didn’t need anything. Just you.

[eccentricwritingbaby]

sex ban

carlos sainz jr x reader

summary - carlos puts down a sex ban in order to try and improve his racing performance. after he caves and realizes he can’t do it, you place your own sex ban to get payback. and it’s killing the both of you. 

warnings - smut

masterlist

-

carlos had been down and out with his performance recently, nervous about his impending unemployment. you knew he was stressing out and pushing himself harder than ever. every morning before the sun was even up he was out running, cycling, in the gym, you name it. you could tell he was losing his energy more than usual because your late night activities were consistent with you being only on top.

you and carlos had a very passionate and constant sex life. it was wild and lustful, a trait that didn’t waiver in your four years together. that was until recently. carlos was clearly drained and tired from his all day activities that the nightly ones had dwindled. while he was stressed, it was usually taken out on you in a pure day through night sexcapade as he fucked you every which way in every room and every position. 

your worry grew stronger as the sex stopped sporadically throughout the day and began only at nightime. even then, he was too tired to truly give you his all, ending up with you on top and exerting all the energy. riding him was nice, and you enjoyed the position, but you needed to be really fucked. thrown onto the mattress, handprints and bite marks to clean up the next morning. but all of that came to a worse halt when carlos arrived home in the evening from a day with his trainer. 

“hola, mi reina,” he sighs out, letting out a groan as he sat next to you on the couch, muscles clearly about to give out. 

“hola, mi amor,” you gently greet, leaning forward to give him a hug and kiss in greeting, “how was your workout?”

“good, i’m sore right now but i should be okay for tomorrow,” he grunts again, attempting to lean back into the couch. 

“los, are you sure you’re alright?” you ask again, your eyebrows pulling in concern, “you seem like you’re very sore,”

“no no,” he assures quickly, “i’m fine, just went a little hard today,” he cranes his neck to get a good look at you, the pain in his eyes evident as you stare into them.

“do you need a massage?” you quietly ask, beginning to run your hands down his chest and stomach, implying your intentions for a happy ending. 

“actually…” he trails off, eyes now darting everywhere but your own, “we need to talk about that,”

“what?” you ask sharply, removing your hands from his body and sitting up straight to look at him clearer. 

“my trainer thinks it’s a good idea to not have sex right now,” he lets out quickly, averting your gaze again.

“i’m sorry, what?” confusion is laced in your tone as you attempt to process what he just told you.

“he thinks that i need to save that energy, conserve it for races and training,” carlos now is bold enough to meet your gaze, regretting it instantly under your sharp stare. 

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you shake out with a laugh.

“mi amor, don’t be upset, please,” carlos pleads to you, “it will only be for a few months, until i get a contract for next year-,”

“MONTHS?!” your voice reaching a higher octave in surprise, “are you fucking kidding me, carlos?”

“mi amor-”

“no,” you cut him off, shaking your head and now standing up from your position on the couch, “you don’t get to ‘mi amor’ me right now, this affects both of us you know,”

“this is my career, y/n,” he lets out in a whisper, his insecurities on full display. 

“and this is our relationship, carlos,” you bite back quickly, “i hope you’re comfy on that couch, you’ll be sleeping there tonight,” with your final statement, you get up and walk upstairs to your bedroom, ready to head to sleep and hope his stupidity was all a dream. 

-

“it’s really been two weeks?” alexandra asks you as you both take a break from the bustle that was the ferrari garage during race weekend. you had already told her about the ‘ban’ last week at the other grand prix to which she was shocked and appalled that you were still standing. you and carlos fought for the first two days about it before you had come to terms with your situation. you weren’t happy about it. but you had come to terms with it. 

“two very long weeks,” you emphasize to her as you both begin your walk from the hospitality center back to the garage.

“i don’t know how you’re doing it,” she laughs, “if charles ever placed that i’d be done,”

“my vibrator and i have gotten really close,” you joke with a smile, “but really i understand carlos’ motivations, he’s freaking out about next year,”

“i’m sure,” alexandra nods in agreement, “it sucks that you have to deal with it too, though,”

“the things we do for love,” you laugh with her again. as you both continue to walk and talk about your predicament, two ferrari drivers were in the garage talking about the same thing.

“what is wrong with you?” charles asks your boyfriend, still in disbelief that he has been holding it out for two weeks. 

“i don’t know,” carlos laughs, “but it’s not working, i want to break it tonight,” he confesses to his teammate. 

“oh she’s going to be happy, i’m sure,”

“i hope,” carlos sighs, “she was pretty upset when i brought it up in the first place,”

“no shit,” charles scoffs, “i’d be pissed if alex put down a sex ban,”

“we’ve been fine since, she hasn’t been holding a grudge or anything,” carlos shrugs. 

“well good luck,” charles gives carlos a quick and firm pat on the shoulder, “you might need it,” he laughs as he walks away, leaving carlos to question the past few weeks quickly. just as he starts debating your feelings, he spots you and alex walking towards the garage, and he begins to sport his large smile. 

“hola, mi reina,” he shouts towards you, “come here,” he yells again, beckoning you closer to his hidden spot in the corner of the garage. 

“hi, baby,” you reply once you’ve reached him, his arm coming up to pull you into his body for a hug, “how’s it going?”

“good, i have to get in the car in a few,” carlos leans down to plant a few kisses to your lips, a warmth growing in your lower abdomen as he continues to roam your body with his hands, “how was alex?”

“good,” you reply, chasing his lips with yours to get some sort of relief, your own arms beginning to roam his body as well, “how’s the car feel?”

“not as good as you will tonight, cariño,” he speaks into your mouth as you both continue your pursuit of each others mouths.

“what do you mean, amor?” you ask in your sunken tone, too caught up in the feeling of his lips and hands on you to catch what he was implying.

“i mean tonight,” he moves his head to begin kissing down your neck before continuing, “the ban lifts,” he sighs out. 

“what?” you ask sharply, putting space between your bodies quickly in order to process the information. 

“we’re having sex tonight, amor. i can’t put it more simple than that,” he laughs as his nerves begin to rise, scared of your harsh reaction. 

“no, we’re not,” you direct, now moving further away from him, his arms itching forward to have you in his hold. 

“yes, we are, cariño,” he replies, pulling you into him yet again. 

“no,” you give him a cross look, stopping his actions from going further, “we’re. not,”

“why?”

“i believe you placed this ban in order to ‘train better’ and you weren’t going to lift it until you had a spot for next year?”

“mi reina, i can’t do this,” he groans in frustration, “i need you,”

“you should’ve thought about that before you started this stupid thing,” you laugh, tapping his cheek quickly before turning around to leave, “karma, my love, karma,” you leave quickly, but not before hearing a long groan come from your boyfriend, giving you a giggle as you disappear. 

-

“y/n?” carlos calls out into the hotel room. you had left the track after the race as carlos finished up with the media, giving him a kiss goodbye and assuring him that tonight nothing would happen. he had thrown a small tantrum to charles who just laughed at his behavior, giving him a stern ‘i told you so’. now back at the hotel, you had decided to give carlos some payback. after he had withheld sex, he still was coming home from his training, hot and sweaty. tempting you beyond belief. he needed to feel what you felt. so here you were, all dressed up in your best red lingerie set, where nothing would happen. 

“in here!” you call out from the bathroom. hearing his footsteps grow closer, you giggle for a second to yourself before making eye contact with him through the mirror. 

“cariño…” he trails off, raking your body with his eyes, lust overtaking his complexion within seconds. you could tell by the tent forming in his pants these were a long two weeks for him as well. 

“what?” you feign innocence with your question, widening your eyes and relishing in the effect you had on your boyfriend, four years later. 

“you know what,” he sighs out, making strides to get closer to you, but you just take the same length of strides backwards, moving away from him.

“i thought i made it pretty clear earlier, the sex ban has not been lifted,” you shake a finger at him, starting to move forward in order to push past him and out of the bathroom. his hands stop you in your attempt to slide past.

“y/n, please,” carlos tries, squeezing your hips to further his point of urgency, “you’re killing me,”

“now you know how i felt these past two weeks,” you lean in closer to really set him off with your next word whispered in his ear, “...papi,”

a loud groan escapes his lips as he squeezes your hips tighter, “mi amor,” he starts, settling his lips between yours, kissing you with the passion you had been needing the past two weeks. 

“carlos,” you squeak out, separating the two of you, “i’m tired-”

“baby-”

“this is what you wanted, remember?” you eye him pointedly, laughing to yourself at his pained expression. the same one you sported everytime you got into bed with him for another sexless night. 

“cariño, this isn’t what i want,” he pushes, trying to grasp you back into his hold as you push away from him. 

“it’s what you asked for,” you say to him as you climb into the bed, raising your ass in the right direction to catch his attention. 

“fuck, amor,” he sighs, staring at you shamelessly, basking in the moment of finally being able to appreciate your body after two long weeks, “you’ll be the death of me,”

“too bad you had to go and listen to your trainer instead of your girlfriend,” you spit back quickly, getting comfortable in bed.

“y/n, i’m sorry,” he sighs again, rubbing his hand over his face before moving to sit on the end of the bed by your feet, “what will it take for you to forgive me?”

“i don’t know,” you fake ponder, “maybe in two weeks i’ll let you know,” you scoff out, winking at him before turning around in bed and closing your eyes. you hear a quiet grunt of disapproval before he heads to the bathroom in order to ready himself for bed as well. you hear the shower turn on, it’s gotta be ice cold, you think with a laugh, before drifting into sleep. 

-

“i’m telling you alex,” you giggle into your coffee the next weekend in the hospitality section, “his face has been priceless,”

“i can’t believe you’re doing this to him,” she laughs along with you, “he told charles that he has been dying,”

“that’s exactly what i was going for,” you confess with a chuckle, “i’m running out of lingerie soon, so i think i’ll switch to just totally naked, that’ll really throw him off,” alexandra just keeps laughing at your game, and encouraging you as you tell her more ideas. 

meanwhile in the garage, carlos is beyond on edge and charles knows exactly why. 

“i told you so,” charles sing-songs as he passes by his teammate. 

“shut the fuck up, mate,” carlos shakes off, running his hand through his messy hair for the hundredth time, “this is-”

“killing you, i know,” charles laughs again, “just apologize to her, grand gesture,” he attempts to provide a solution to his friend. 

“i’ve tried that,” he shrugs, “i’ve bought her bags, shoes, dinners, and nothing,”

“wow,” charles eyes widen in surprise, “are you sure the sex is good for her?”

“shut. up. charles,” carlos says through gritted teeth, “she’s just stubborn, wants me to wait the two weeks like i made her do,”

“actually that’s pretty fair-” charles begins, but stops abruptly as carlos’ left shoe comes hurling at his head, “hey! i’m not the one who gave you the sex ban! don’t hurt me!” he cries out in laughter, running away quickly before the right shoe has a chance to be removed. 

-

the two weeks were up and you were burning. you needed carlos biblically in every way you could possibly imagine. however, the need to watch him squirm one last time tempted you completely. so there you stood - naked, oiled up, hair done, heels on - ready for carlos. 

“hola, y/n, i’m home!” carlos calls throughout your shared home as he enters. 

“i’m in the bedroom!” you call back, giddy with excitement as you hear his footsteps approaching. 

“oh, oh mi reina,” carlos stutters, stopping dead in his tracks as he tracks your body with his eyes. 

“hola, papi,” you seductively whisper, watching his eyes turn from their beautiful caramel brown to a lustful black. 

“ohhh,” he lets out in a groan, immediately dropping down to his knees, and crawling forward to be at your feet. just as he approaches, you push your heel into his shoulder, stopping him from moving closer, “mi amor…,” he sighs in a plea, moving his lips to meet your ankle, slowly trailing them up and kissing your legs in admiration. 

“carlos,” you warn as he inches closer to your heat, “i think there’s one more day on the ban,” his eyes snap up to meet yours, widening in hope for you to forget it already. 

“mi reina, please,” he whines, his lips furthering their pursuit on your thigh, “i’ll do anything, anything,”

“anything?” you ask with a smirk, an eyebrow cocked in amusement at his desperation. 

“anything,” he breathes out, “absolutely anything,”

“no more sex bans,” you start, your boyfriend already nodding his head in agreement, “you fuck me everynight,” you keep going, carlos still shaking his head as his lips don’t stop their attack on your leg, “and you fuck me good tonight, papi,” you finish, him already climbing up your leg in urgency to reach the place he needed once given the green light. 

his lips meet yours after leaving a trail on your entire body, you hum and moan into the kiss as his hand climbs up your body and begins to grip your neck. pushing your head to the side, his lips migrate to your neck, biting and sucking in the places he knows will keep pretty sounds leaving your mouth. 

“mm,” he grunts, pushing his thigh in between your legs, leading you to let out another silky moan and grind down onto his jeans, “y/n,” he chokes out, “on the bed,” he directs. you eagerly move away from him and slide onto the bed. as you start to remove your heels, he pulls your hand away quickly, “leave them on,” he sighs out as you just smirk towards him. 

with the confidence of his desire for you warming your insides, you pull on the collar of his shirt, ultimately forcing him on top of you and leading his lips back to yours, he slips a moan out at your boldness. he stops only for the removal of his shirt before his lips come crashing to yours once again. 

he slides his hand down your body, giving your nipple a tight pinch on his way before meeting his desired destination. once his hand cups your heat, your moan echoed the walls as you hadn’t felt anything but your toys for a month. and they were not nearly comparable to your boyfriend. 

“i’ve barely touched you, amor,” he chuckles out between your kisses. 

“shut up,” you bite back, “it’s been a month,”

“i know,” he breathes, lips moving back to your neck, him relishing in the sound of your sweet moans as his fingers get to work, “so wet for me, reina,”

“only for you, papi,” you choke out in between your moans. he slips his digits up and down your folds a few times, gathering your wetness on his fingers before slowly, too slowly, entering you. he drowns out your moans with his lips on yours, pumping his fingers faster as his thumb comes up to rub your sensitive bud. 

“need you, papi,” you moan out, “need you inside of me,” 

“i know, mi amor, i know,” he shushes you a little bit, kissing you lightly as he continues to pump his fingers in and out, “i want to savor you,”

“do i need to tell you how long it’s been again?” you desperately moan, arching your back into him as he hits your spot. carlos moans along with you, reveling in your need for him and how easily he can get you undone. 

“no need for that, amor,” he shakes off with a laugh. pulling his fingers out of you, they meet his mouth as he tastes the sweetness of you he had missed for weeks. he lets out a guttural moan, and he begins to remove his pants. taking them off in one swift motion, his length slaps up to meet his stomach as you attempt to not drool at the picture in front of you. scrambling towards your boyfriend, you start to make a motion in order to give him the same attention he gave you, ready to be on your knees and ready for him. only for his hands to grab your waist, tossing you backwards onto the bed.

“do i need to remind you how long it’s been?” he asks you, mocking your question from earlier. you sit up on your forearms, watching as he crawls across the bed to be on top of you, meeting your lips in a kiss. you get so caught up in the kiss, carlos’ movements to enter you were lost as your brain fogged in lust. 

“are you ready, mi reina?” he quietly asks, rubbing his length in between your folds. 

“si, papi,” you seductively eye him after your answer, his eyes rolling back as he moves forward to kiss you again. as he enters inside of you, both of your moans paint the walls of your bedroom. 

“fuck, y/n-”

“aye, carlos-”

his pattern begins slow, the movements beginning to warm you up as you stretch to fit him perfectly. his lips attack your neck as your hands pull on his back, you scratching, him biting. both of you moaning in the bliss you had been missing for weeks. 

“oh, oh baby,” he breathes, movements quickening as he gains his rhythm. carlos pulls back slightly from you, moving an arm next to your head in order to hold himself up as he pounds into you harder. your back involuntarily arches, pushing your breasts to meet his chest, sweat mixing together as well as your moans. 

“mi-mi amor,” he stutters out, and you recognize immediately what he’s about to tell you, “i know it’s soon but-”

“i know, carlos, me too,” you breathe out, the warmth in your tummy heating up as you feel your aching ready to be released. 

“with me, baby, with me,” he grunts out, his pace now sloppy as he attempts to bring you towards your high with him. 

“mhm,” was all you could let out, your nails now digging further into his back, “‘m close,” 

“c’mon, mi reina,” he stutters out, his high coming quick, “now, baby,” he breathes out in haste. you both collapse into each other, a sweaty pile of moans and kisses as you begin to come down from your high. 

as you both lay there, carlos still inside you, he kisses your forehead and starts moving some of your hair away from your face. you finally kick off your heels and kiss carlos in between catching your breath. 

“you do know we need to go again, right?” you laugh out through the kisses. 

“oh we’re going all night, y/n,” carlos reassures you, kissing you again. 

“good,” you giggle, “and never again will this happen,”

“never, mi amor, never,”

-

[alexiroflife]

"phobia"

i literally can't stop writing for this mf, flufffff :(

satoru gojo x reader

Synopsis: you are an incredibly talented sorcerer, but your deadly fear of spiders tends to interfere with your daily life every now and then. it doesn't help when you happen to encounter a curse that looks just like one

to sum it up: satoru is always there for you to kill a spider when you need him to

WC: 2,764

Warning(s): arachnophobia, icky spiders

The burden of a Jujutsu Sorcerer was taxing beyond comprehension, which of course was why it paid so well.

Sorcerers were expected to give their lives each day within the battlefield, watching as their comrades and the people they were expected to protect die left and right at the hands of the morbid amalgamations of human beings’ worst possible fears, anxieties, doubts, and other nasty negative emotions.

To be a sorcerer was to sacrifice oneself, to accept death before it inevitably took its toll on those around you, and then eventually, on you yourself. This was why sorcerers were expected and trained to be strong, fierce, and with perhaps a few screws loose in their heads to allow them to plow full force into danger with no fears and no regrets. 

Sorcerers were meant to be fearless.

And in many ways, you truly were. You were a first grade sorcerer, more than capable of handling yourself in the face of adversity. You were proficient, quick on your feet, merciless when you had to be, and above all, you were confident in your abilities, which was just as important of a trait to have as a sorcerer as courageousness. 

You were a proud woman, content that you could put your skills to good use by aiding those who were weak and helpless, by saving as many lives as you could alongside your colleagues at Jujutsu Tech. 

You were a damn good sorcerer too, only, there remained a small matter that often seemed to creep up on you at the worst of times. Something you had tried desperately to overcome through years of training, therapy, private meetings with Yaga, and more. Something that had been clinging to you since the very moment you were born, and something you were still somehow unable to completely escape well into your twenty-sixth year of life. 

And that was your deathly fear of spiders.

You admitted that it was silly, that to have made it this far within the world of sorcery after having encountered more horrors than most people could imagine, a little fear of spiders was completely absurd. You knew it didn’t make any sense, that this fear of yours was beneath you, but that didn’t stop you from shrieking horribly and seeking shelter each time you saw a spider crawling along the wall of your apartment. 

You knew that you should have had more patience with yourself, for there was no way of conquering a fear if you refused to acknowledge it as valid, but come on. You were a grade 1 sorcerer for god’s sake, a professor at Jujutsu High teaching students to cast their fears aside to focus their emotions and energies into properly honing in on their techniques, yet you still couldn’t get over being squeamish any time you saw those little demons hurdling their way over the earth. 

In your mind, they were far worse than curses, a source of terror that must have been executed. 

Nevertheless, you kept your fears to yourself for the sake of your occupation and reputation. The only person who knew anything about this vulnerability of yours was your boyfriend, Satoru, and even he found it funny at times to tease you about such a small thing in a world plagued by monsters and curse-users. He had seen you slice open a curse all the way down the middle of its body with a blank face, blood spattering in all directions, but spiders were what got you. 

While he poked fun, he still harbored an understanding that beneath the hardened exterior sorcerers were forced to put up, you were all born of flesh and blood just as any other living being on this planet. 

Satoru was quick to rush to your apartment whenever you called him screaming, standing atop your bed and jumping up and down on your cushions in fear upon catching sight of one of those nasty things. He would throw your door open, catch you in your rather comical position, and hold back a fit of laughter upon seeing you.

“SATORU, SHUT UP AND JUST KILL IT! PLEASE!”

“Calm down, pretty, it’s not gonna hurt you,” he would say, a sickening smirk gracing his gorgeous features. “You’ve faced much worse things than this.”

“I don’t care!” you’d sob. “Just kill it please!”

And once he was finished picking on you, he’d hurry to your aid, approaching the bug in the corner and flicking his finger, rendering the creature dead. 

Then afterwards, he’d always hold out his arms for you to jump down into them once you determined it was safe, cooing into your ear as you threw your arms and legs around him, his hand holding your head. 

“You were so brave, baby. Good job, you got through it.”

It was humbling, to say the least, for the strongest to witness you in such a weak state, but despite Satoru’s teasing, he still took you very seriously. He didn’t diminish your strengths or your worths because of a simple fear. Hell, he had fears that he had buried deep within his gut that only you could drag out of him, and that was okay. Satoru poked fun, but he never judged his precious girl for feeling. 

After all, he enjoyed the fact that you were comfortable enough to let him see you in such a light after long days of having to be strong, just like him. He liked that he could help you with this one thing, even if it meant teleporting into your room at two in the morning on a work day. As long as he was taking care of you, he didn’t care less what you needed. When you needed him, he would be at your aid within a heartbeat. 

And in this moment, you really, really did need him.

Yaga had sent you on a quick solo mission to eradicate a few low grade curses at a nearby summer camp facility while most of the other sorcerers were busy with training or on leave for other missions. It was a quick and easy task for you, granted that your grade was much higher than those of the curses you would be exorcizing.

Only, what Yaga failed to inform you, and likely did not know or care about, was that one of these particular curses was unlike the rest. While you easily winded through the three other creatures, the very last one at the end of the corridor caught you by surprise. 

Your face was hardened as you whipped your head around, sensing the presence of the last curse within the space. Once your eyes landed on the source of the cursed energy, however, your face dropped and your eyes shrank in terror.

There before you cowered a three foot tall dark purple curse which took an arachnoid shape, with an array of beady red eyes atop its head and eight hair legs digging into the wood of the floorboards. Your heart dropped and your mouth ran dry, your body freezing in its tracks. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t think, you couldn’t do anything. Of all the first grade curses you had come across in your lifetime, this grade 3 creature would be the very first thing that stood between you and seeing the light of day.

The curse hissed, chattering its chelicerae-like mouth as its legs tapped restlessly against the floor, sending a horrid shiver up your spine. You were stronger than this, braver than this, you knew you were, but your legs had gone to jelly and your heart was pounding in your ears. Perhaps if you had been given a warning ahead of time. you would have been able to approach this threat differently, but instead, much to your shame, you took off in the opposite direction once your legs willed you to move. 

You could hear it crawling after you down the hall, screeching out nonsensical sounds as it rounded the corner to follow you. You were quick to duck into the first room you saw, slamming the door shut behind you and pressing your back against the surface. You searched the room in a panic, which you discovered to be a dorm, and ran to take cover in a closet in the corner.

You trembled, sinking down to the bottom of the platform as heavy, panicked breaths wracked your body. This was pathetic. This was humiliating. You were better than this, but god, this fear, those damned spiders would always get the best of you, despite how hard you tried to help it. 

You were trembling, squeezing your eyes shut as whimpers spilled from your quivering lips. That thing was so big, bigger than any spider you had encountered, and while you understood it was a curse, it looked far too real. 

You didn’t know what to do. You had to finish this mission, and the principal wouldn’t accept a sorry excuse about you being too afraid to exorcize a curse because it looked like a spider for an answer as to why you would come running back to the school. It sounded ridiculous! Especially for someone with your skill. 

You could hear the creature running up and down the halls erratically, its gross legs clicking against the walls. You pressed your lips together tightly, wrapping your arms around yourself. You wanted this to stop.

Hesitantly, you reached into the pocket of your uniform to shakily pull out your phone. You breathed out heavily, on the verge of a panic attack, trembling fingers dialing your boyfriend’s number with his. You lifted the phone to your ear and listened to it ring.

Then it clicked.

“Hello? Baby?” Satoru’s comforting voice spoke into the phone, a sigh of relief escaping you. “What’s up? You done with that little mission yet?”

“S-Satoru?” you whispered, voice trembling harshly. Immediately, the sorcerer on the other line knew something was off.

“(Y/n)? What’s wrong?” his tone dropped with urgency. “What happened? Are you okay?”

You pursed your lips again, muffling a pathetic sob that was prepared to break past your mouth. You scrunched your eyes closed, the confined space doing very little to ease your nerves. Satoru could only hear the choked whines that left you, and he was on his feet, captured with instant worry. 

“Baby, talk to me. I need to know you’re okay. Tell me what happened. Where are you?”

“T-The…” you stammered, struggling to get it out.

“Deep breaths, pretty. Breathe.”

You gulped, knocking your head back against the wood, taking a moment to release a few sharp breaths. “The camp,” you managed to whimper. 

“You’re still there?” he asked, almost incredulously. “Did something happen? Were the curses higher grades than you were told? I’m on my way right now.”

“No, i-it’s,” you shook, pressing your phone to your forehead. “It’s- a s-spider…”

There was a pause as Satoru processed what you were saying. “A spider?” he repeated. “What do you mean?”

“The last curse,” you exhaled. “It’s a spider, Toru, it looks like a damn big ass spider,” you rambled. “I’m so scared, I'm sorry, please come help me.”

“Oh, baby,” he sighed. “I’m coming, don’t worry. Stay where you are, I’ll find you.”

You nodded rapidly, scrunching your face as tears pricked your eyes. “M-kay.”

You tucked your phone away and within exactly two seconds, you heard a whooshing sound from outside, followed by the screech of the curse. You heard its legs clatter along the walls once more before another tormented, animalistic cry, and then there was nothing. 

You waited silently, hugging your knees to your chest as footsteps ascended. “(Y/n)?!” you heard Satoru’s voice through the walls, and your shoulders slumped with alleviation. You heard the door to the room open and you slowly reached up to the closet door handle, creaking it open to peer outside.

There, you saw your boyfriend standing in the doorway, gaze finally landing on you beneath his blindfold. The moment he saw you, he dropped his arms, pained by the sight of you curled up in hiding out of fear. “(Y/n),” his gentle voice breathed out as he stepped further into the room, extending his arms in that same manner he always did when comforting you.

The second you saw the motion, you were breaking. The reality of your weakness came crashing down on you, and your lips wobbled as you climbed out of the closet and fell into his warm embrace. You shook against him, embarrassed, petrified. You were the partner of the strongest sorcerer of the modern age, and this was what you were. Powerless at the will of a low grade curse.

“It’s alright, baby, I’m here. Please don’t cry, pretty. It’s okay, I got you,” he murmured against your temple, pressing his soft lips to it then to the crown of your head as you buried your face in his chest. 

“Satoru,” you sniffled into him, clinging to the fabric of his black suit as he wrapped you into his warmth.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay.” 

“I-Is it gone?”

“Yeah, baby. I got rid of it. It’s all gone, don’t worry,” he whispered. He hated seeing you like this. Normally when you faced spiders, the interaction was far more lighthearted. You would screech, sure, but you had always recovered fairly quickly after he had killed one. Granted, you had never encountered a spider as big as the one that you just saw, but Satoru was aching upon  witnessing how rattled you were by this thing. “You got the rest of them, baby. You did so good, you know that? My strong girl.”

He was so loving with his praise as he eased you down from your high, rubbing your hair and pressing his palm to your waist, letting you know that you were safe with him. 

“M’sorry,” you mumbled into him and he looked down, pulling away slightly to hear you better and to get a look at your face. He tilted your chin up so that you could look at him, your eyes glossy and your brows pinched.

“What are you sorry for, pretty?” he asked you genuinely, heart clenching as he smoothed his thumb over your flushed cheek. 

“Cause,” you sniffed again. “I should’ve been able to handle this. It’s so stupid. I dragged you here to get rid of something so small.”

“Hey,” he said with firm tenderness, holding your cheek so that your eyes stayed on his. “Don’t do that.”

“B-But, I should be able to-”

“Stop. I won’t listen to you beat on yourself for being afraid,” he shook his head. “You’re so strong, (Y/n). You always have been, but we all have our weaknesses and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Says you,” you muttered, guilt catching your eyes. “You’re the strongest.”

“And you know better than anyone that that’s just a title,” Satoru said earnestly. “Yes there’s truth to it, but none of that takes away from the things that keep me up at night. Just like your grade doesn’t take away your fears.”

He traced the curve of your jaw softly, lifting his free hand to remove his blindfold and tuck it into his pocket. You watched as his white hair fell over his face and his sapphire eyes washed over you, displaying his loving, concerned, understanding gaze. 

“But that doesn’t mean we’re not strong. It’s okay to be scared as long as you know I’m here to help you, and as long as I know you’re here to help me.”

You could feel a lump building in your throat as he gazed at you and he curled his brows, jutting out his bottom lip slightly. 

“Don’t look at me like that, princess, you’ll make me cry,” he said, catching your face in both of his large palms as your hands moved to delicately hold his wrists. “C’mere, baby,” he whispered, drawing your forehead to his lips. The sorcerer then kissed the bridge of your nose and the edge of your brow before letting you fall back into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso as he held you close.

You melted into him and closed your eyes. “Love you, Satoru,” you murmured into him.

He kissed your head again, resting his cheek atop you. “I love you, too, (Y/n). Let’s get you home and all cleaned up, yeah?”

You nodded against him, thankful to the universe that the man you loved made being vulnerable feel like a gentle, welcoming, consuming form of unconditional love. 

But, fuck, did you hate spiders.

[aealzx]

(This one is pretty long info dumping. Warning: mention of mild gore)

_______________________

Prologue

Previous Next

_______________________

With the state of the one named Danny, the safehouse Barbara directed the group to was one that was a little more well stocked than the others. It was only because of Jazz that they were able to reach it, being the one to accept all of them being blindfolded after Jason had suggested they could hold each other’s hands the whole time and let the rest of his team put the blindfolds on. It made walking a little awkward with Jazz firmly hanging onto her unconscious brother’s hand, but it was an annoyance Jason was willing to accept for the comfort it gave them. It was only when they were in a room without windows that they took the blindfolds off, and pulled chairs over for the kids to sit on.

“Don’t touch me,” Sam hissed when Cass took her arm to start cleaning a cut she had, snatching her limb back and glaring.

“If it gets infected and you get sick then you’ll have one more of your team in need of care. That seems detrimental to your state of affairs,” Damian commented after catching sight of Cass’ sad expression.

“Robin,” Tim hissed, not wanting to stress this group of teenagers out more than they already were.

“He’s not wrong,” Jason interjected, keeping a hold of Danny not only because there was only one table open that he’d directed Stephanie to set Danielle on, but also because he knew the others would behave better with their seriously injured friend in obvious custody. “You guys should take care of yourselves too, otherwise no one will be left to look out for him.”

It was effective. Sam flinched before lowering her head and hunching her shoulders like a scolded puppy, then offered her arm back to Cass.

“Dude,” Tucker protested weakly, but didn’t say anything else and aso looked to Tim to accept his own check up. He had to wait for Tim to stop facepalming first though, a heaved sign from him before he decided not to further comment on his two brothers’ unnecessarily blunt comments.

“Are you feeling a little better sweetie? Sorry we roughed you up so much, but you were quite the fighter and it was hard to deal with you,” Stephanie decided to also ignore her brothers, resting Danielle on the table while Dick was clearing the other.

At first Danielle was about to be snarky about whose fault it was that she wasn’t feeling okay, but Stephanie’s expert inclusion about her fighting ability effectively changed her thought process. “Heheeh. And don’t you forget it,” Danielle chimed with a proud giggle. “I’m feeling much better now. Thanks for carrying me all the way.”

“No problem! Thanks for listening to your sister and not fighting us again,” Stephanie returned. “Jazz said you’re different from the others. Do you need anything? It doesn’t look like you’re injured anymore.”

“I heal fast, so I’m okay. But do you have any food? We haven’t really gotten much lately,” Danielle asked shamelessly. She didn’t need any bandaids or antiseptic like the others, but fights had still taken a lot of energy on top of being short supply of food for the past few months. If they were willing to finally give her a good meal then she was going to take advantage of it.

“Sure thing,” Stephanie giggled, appreciating the honesty. “I’ll be right back,” she bid, leaving Danielle on the table and heading to another room where they kept food supplies.

Letting Stephanie pass by them, Jason shifted towards the remaining table where Dick was finishing clearing the surface of spare parts and supplies. “Get two blankets, he’s cold as ice,” Jason directed Dick, the concern in his voice being the only hit to his hidden expression.

“...Still breathing?” Dick asked after obediently pulling a thick blanket from a nearby cupboard and spreading it on the table first. They were both keeping their voices on the quieter side, letting Stephanie and Tim take care of keeping the other three occupied. Jazz was the only one staying near them, having not let go of Danny’s hand just yet.

“Yeah, it’s weak though,” Jason confirmed, carefully setting Danny down and helping Dick spread the second blanket over him. “How long has he been like this?”

That question was directed to Jazz, who pursed her lips both in reluctance to answer and to fight back more tears. “Since we got here. He collapsed and hasn’t woken up since,” she admitted, almost a whisper.

“What?” Dick smothered his outburst so the others didn’t notice, but couldn’t keep it quiet completely. “He’s been comatose for months without life support?”

Jazz flinched and shrank back slightly at the outburst, but Jason rested a hand on her shoulder to keep her from fleeing. They needed her to talk if they wanted to be able to help them. “He’s not a regular human, remember?” he reminded Dick, speaking up to try and help Jazz feel a little less interrogated.

Jazz didn’t offer any further information, just pulled her gaze back to look up at Dick, lip wavering despite her trying to keep a defiant expression. She wasn’t looking for pity, but she wasn’t good enough at pretending to be a tough girl that Dick didn’t notice her distress. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to... I know you were doing your best,” he apologized, pulling back a little as well.

“Dr. Thompkins has reached you guys. Penny-one opted to call her after hearing Danny's initial condition,” Barbara’s report came over all of their comms, able to keep tabs on everyone through secure video feeds of the inside and outside of the safehouse. And as each of her team members got DNA samples from their captive rescuees she was also starting an identity analysis for each of them in the background.

“Robin?”

That was all Dick had to say, calling to the youngest who was leaning against the frame of the only door. Damian simply raised his hand in a brief acknowledging wave before he left to let Leslie inside. As he left Stephanie returned a moment after, a plate of warmed up frozen burritos in her hands and a bag of bottled water over her shoulder. The bag caught Jason’s eye, and he moved over momentarily to grab one of the bottles and bring it to Jazz.

“Our medical contact has arrived. We’ll have her look at your brother first. Just make sure you stay hydrated,” he commented, handing her the bottle and letting her open it so she could see it was still sealed and therefore wasn’t contaminated. If that was even a concern that crossed her mind. It was starting to quickly seem like these kids weren’t criminals at all, and many of them were starting to have a hard time treating them as such.

“...Thanks,” Jazz responded, taking a moment to be willing to let go of Danny to open the bottle. It was much needed, and she ended up drinking half of it before lowering it again.

Jason watched her for a moment, noting how tense she was and her reluctance to speak with them. He couldn’t blame her for being secretive, having no idea what had driven them to where they had been. But he couldn’t help notice it was strange they were all still distrusting of the group they were with. Didn’t they know Batman’s group of birds were a trustworthy lot? Were they still hiding something illegal? Or maybe… they simply didn’t recognize them. Where were these kids from? “Before the Doctor gets here, I just want to strongly recommend that you don’t keep anything from her, alright? I know it’s scary to reveal things about your brother to a stranger, but the more she knows the better she can help. Got it?”

Jazz looked up at him at the half request half demand, eyes trying to see him beyond the mask as she considered his words. She hadn’t thought about that yet, being so used to keeping everything about what Danny was a secret from everyone. But what Jason said made sense, and she wasn’t going to risk Danny not getting better just to stay paranoid. Two months was a long time for them to have tried to figure things out for themselves, only to have every attempt fail. But if there was one thing they’d all learned in the past months, it seemed ghosts were practically nonexistent in Gotham. So perhaps there was much less risk than back home. “...Okay,” Jazz agreed, giving a small nod.

“This way Doctor. The young meta is over there,” Damian was quick to return, refraining from entering the room for a moment in favor of allowing Leslie to get by, but still gesturing his open palm towards the group of four to the right side of the room from the entrance.

“Thank you, Robin,” Leslie responded, stepping into the room and heading over to them. She didn’t sound too happy to be there. But considering the circumstances it was hard to be joyful about it. She did end up pausing when she laid eyes on Danny though, momentarily taken aback. “If I didn’t know any better I’d be questioning your ability to tell when someone was still alive,” she commented, looking at Dick and Jason for a moment before setting her medical case on the edge of the table with a small sigh. “Let’s take a look. What kind of injury is under the wrappings, dear?”

Her voice had softened, being able to recognize each of the kids who were there from the rundown Barbara had given her on the way there. As she gathered her tools Jazz watched her, hesitantly nudging herself to respond honestly. “...Burns,” she said quietly, willing herself to move as she saw Leslie pull out some scissors to cut the bandages with. “From here to here,” Jazz added, rising from the stool to gesture the entirety of Danny’s left side of his torso, and onto his shoulder somewhat.

“Thank you, dear,” Leslie hummed, slipping the scissors under the bandages on the opposite side to make sure she didn’t aggravate any of the injuries. It only took a moment to cut through the stolen wrappings, and then she was very gingerly peeling them away.

Jazz still felt nauseous whenever she saw the blaster inflicted burns marring a good portion of her little brother’s body, and was glad she was already sitting. Leslie didn’t seem too phased though, simply humming once the wounds were revealed even as Dick and Jason made tense noises. “Hmm. Those are definitely third degree,” Leslie commented, slowly cutting away the rest of the bandages around Danny’s shoulder. But then she noticed something unusual that caused her to look closer. The tissue that wasn’t destroyed appeared irritated, as if exposed to an allergen or poison. “What caused them?” she asked, looking closely.

“...A shot from a Blood blossom blaster,” Jazz almost whispered, clenching her hand as the memory of her brother screaming when the red tinted blast had caught him in the side made her feel even more sick. She wasn’t sure if that was worse than seeing him stand up afterwards with a gaping hole in his side dripping green blood. At least in his ghost form there hadn’t been much to see in terms of insides. But after having expended all his energy to take out the GIW’s machines he hadn’t had any left to heal, and the injuries had carried over his human half.

“Wait, you said third degree?” Sam suddenly spoke up, the whole room having stopped conversations when Leslie had come in. “You can’t see his ribs anymore?” she continued, standing up and intending to check for herself before Cass stepped in her way.

“Don’t interfere. You’ll get in the way,” Cass directed, holding her hands out to block Sam’s path and ignoring the glare directed at her.

Tucker made a gagging noise at the question, covering his mouth for a moment. “Dude, could you not remind me of that?”

So Sam wasn’t just being dramatic? Dick and his team ended up looking at Jazz when they heard her draw a breath of realization, turning from Sam back to check for herself. “Oh-... Oh thank goodness. You’re right,” she breathed, sagging to her knees and letting out a sob of relief. “We were right. He is still healing.”

It was a strange thing to hear, but for the first time since they’d caught them Sam actually gained a small smile. Danielle also ended up giving a short giggle too, kicking her legs once. “Told you,” she commented.

It was admittedly a very confusing conversation, but Dick had to just remind himself once again that Danny wasn’t completely human. Following Cass’ lead, Dick gently helped pull Jazz back to the stool she’d been on. “Let’s keep out of the Doctor’s way,” he suggested. 

“Can you guys explain a little more though?” Tim spoke up now, trying to piece together everything that had been hinted at. Apparently Danny had actually had fourth degree burns, but they had healed despite him not having proper medical care other than clean dressings, and having been asleep for months. “I’m having a difficult time understanding how he’s not…. in worse condition,” he added, catching himself from being too blunt like his siblings had been before.

“You mean how he’s not dead?” This time it was Danielle that was strangely blunt with a calmness that made the others think she didn’t fully understand what she was saying. “That’s easy. He and I are both halfas. It’s harder to kill someone who’s already half dead.”

Tim’s brow twitched, and Jason didn’t miss the few glances taken at him. He doubted they were the same as him, considering he unfortunately couldn’t phase through solid objects or fly like they had seen Danielle do many times already.

“Halfas?” Stephanie repeated, pulling her gaze from Jason and looking back to Danielle.

“It’s short for half human half ghost,” Sam answered, as though it was an obvious connection to make.

“Yup. See,” Danielle confirmed, pushing off the table midmorph and floating in the air instead of landing on the floor as her now stark white hair wisped gently in a soft wind unfelt by anyone else. It didn’t look like much of a change other than she had different hair and eye colors now. But it definitely felt different. That eerie skin crawling sensation that people usually associated with ghosts that almost never actually existed.

‘...Huh, I guess it’s kind of like Captain Marvel, but with their ghost half as the other side,’ Tim thought after a moment of consideration after watching Danielle. “And being halfas give you guys accelerated healing, but… Danny’s is… hindered?” he asked next, clarifying that they were on the same page.

The nod from Danielle turned into a grimace, and she floated back to sit on the table once more. “Something like that. We have to have enough energy for it to work, and he used up a lot. This place kinda sucks too. There’s no natural portals to the Ghost Zone, and no ecto hot spots that we can gather energy from either.”

“The closest supplement we could find that we thought would work was the Lazarus water. But after getting a hold of some we decided we shouldn’t risk using it,” Jazz added, feeling the despair starting to sink into her shoulders again.

“Yeah, that stuff is freaky bad. I only took a little bit and it was horrible,” Danielle agreed, shuddering and wrapping her arms around her knees.

The others weren’t sure how to answer that fully, most of them being lost in thought about the unfamiliar data they’d been given. Eventually Jason shifted with a short comment. “We’re not too fond of the stuff either,” he huffed, then switched his gaze back to Leslie.  “Have you finished looking him over?”

While they had been discussing half ghosts Leslie had continued her exam and treatment of Danny, having cleansed the obvious injuries, rebandaged them with Dick’s help, and added a simple saline IV, oxygen mask, and heart monitor. When Jason addressed her she was making notes about her results. “Mm. Aside from the burns it looks like he’s been exposed to an allergen or toxin as well,” she began, turning to face them.

“That’s the blood blossoms. They’re poison to ghosts,” Jazz supplied quickly, then looked apologetic for interrupting.

Leslie didn’t seem to mind though, just nodding and continuing her report. “There’s also the expected signs of malnutrition. If the human half still needs regular human nutrients then Vitamin IV therapy would be of benefit. The strange part is it looks like all of his bodily functions are significantly slowed, similar to that of cryogenic stasis. That could explain why he’s still alive after so long.”

“That also explains why he feels like an ice cube,” Jason noted, “Could you tell what’s causing it?”

“It seems to be self generated. I imagine this ‘meta’ potentially has ice related abilities,” Leslie answered. None of the teens said anything, but their tight lipped reactions and expressions of sudden understanding were enough to confirm Leslie’s guess.

“Do you have the details of the Vitamin IV needed? We can get that brought here,” Dick requested, moving closer to Leslie to look over her shoulder at the notes she’d taken. Leslie just shifted the tablet slightly, letting Dick get a good look since it seemed he was trying to formulate the next steps of action.

“Alright, it looks like everyone is stable for now. We’ll keep two people here at a time to keep an eye on everyone, and make sure people get fed and taken care of. Unfortunately none of you are allowed near any of our technology still, so we can see about bringing you some books or something to keep from being bored,” Dick started to plan out, giving a sympathetic shake of his head when Sam and Tucker groaned about not being let near technology. Jazz felt like it was fair enough, she wouldn't trust them either and at least they were going to make sure they had food and water. Plus they seemed to be pretty serious about taking care of Danny. Even after learning about the unique difficulties in his condition they hadn’t abandoned them yet. “The rest of us will work on getting the rest of what Danny needs, that we know of so far. Something to neutralize the blood blossom residue, IV vitamins, and ectoplasm. Does anyone else have any unique needs?”

At that point Sam raised her hand, letting Dick gesture to her before speaking up. “Vegetarian,” she said simply.

“Not a problem. I’ll make sure everyone in charge of food knows.” Dick nodded, noticing how Damian very subtly gained a smile about that. “Do any of you have a picture, or description of the blood blossom plants? It doesn’t sound like anything I’m familiar with.”

“The only ones we’ve seen look like rosebuds, red with black leaves and stems,” Sam spoke again, seeming to be more favorable to them now. The same care for Danny that was winning Jazz over was winning the rest of the team as well.

“Got it,” Dick nodded, gaining a pleased smile when Leslie also passed over a sample of the blood blossom affected tissue that she had taken from Danny before covering the wounds again. A tiny sample encased in glass, but it should be more than enough for them to figure out how to neutralize the remainder of the toxin without hurting the lad further. “Orphan, Spoiler, are you okay with taking the first shift?”

“Sure thing,” Stephanie agreed, giving a thumbs up along with Cass.

“I’ll stick around too for now,” Jason added, for no other reason that he felt like he should stay there for a while. At least until they knew for sure who these Phantom kids were.

Dick seemed surprised, but didn’t argue. “Fine. Keep in touch, we’ll let you know as soon as we find anything,” he nodded, motioning for those who weren’t staying to head out. He knew Leslie would stay to double check their work on the other kids, so it ended up being just him, Tim, and Damian filtering out the door.

_______________

I actually had this one all typed out before I even started the prologue one. So I just had to draw something today to get it all up.

Drawing this I looked up canon heights for the first time and found out that Danny is a tiny lil nugget, and that's adorable X'D

I also complained to Na about "having to draw Jason's stupid helmet instead of his pretty face" and she gave me the suggestion of having his face on the side.

_________________

Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @zeestarfishalien, @bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch, @tkiesai

[moonstruckme]

I love your roomate!james. I was wondering if you could do one where shy!reader is sick and she doesn’t tell james bc she’s used to taking care of herself but he’s adamant about taking care of her. 🥺🖤

Thank you lovely!

cw: implied nausea and vomiting

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.6k words

James worries he’s scared you off. 

He thought you’d been having a good time the other night, hanging out with his friends and then teasing each other while he battled you for cleanup duties after. He’d certainly had a good time. Watching you smile more readily as you got comfortable, feeling your soft form tucked up against his on the couch, it had made his whole body feel light and fizzy, but now James wonders if the easy, familiar energy of the night had made him too bold. There had been a moment, just before you’d gone to bed, where you’d seemed to stumble, defaulting back to the awkward, self-conscious way of speaking you’d had before you got to know each other. 

James might not have thought anything of it—you still get shy sometimes, he can never figure out what causes it—except you’ve been very obviously avoiding him ever since. That next day, you went to work and then disappeared into your room straight after you got home. He told himself he was being paranoid. But yesterday, you seemingly had the day off, and every time you needed to emerge from your room James heard you dash down the stairs and back up as if your bedroom was the only safe zone in the apartment. 

He hears you doing it again now, the soft click of your door unlatching before quiet footsteps start down the stairs. If Sirius were here, they’d probably make a game out of timing you, but James estimates it’s less than a minute before you start back up again. He wishes he could tell you not to hurry yourself; he has no intent of cornering you in your own home, even if he does want to patch things up. 

Then something falls on the stairs with a loud thud, followed by a sharp gasp just outside James’ room, and all thoughts of giving you your space are quickly abandoned. It was a valiant effort. 

“Shit,” he says as soon as he opens the door. He crouches beside you, taking your elbow in his hand, cushioning it from the cruel edge of the step, “Did you hurt yourself?” 

You must have had a mean fall. You’re completely crumpled on the stairs, one of your legs curled under you and one outstretched behind you as though it’s slipped back. Both of your elbows are braced underneath your body, keeping your face from smacking into the corner of the stair. James is willing to bet that big sound he’d heard was your knee hitting the step below you as you tripped. 

“Fuck,” you whine, pulling an entire loaf of bread from beneath your other elbow. The middle has been completely crushed, smashed between your forearm and the edge of a step. You look genuinely distraught about it. 

“Did you hurt your knee?” James frets, fighting the urge to haul you up off the stairs so he can look you over properly. He does take your other elbow in hand, using a firm grip to encourage rather than haul. You get more or less upright. 

“I’m okay.” You sound a bit odd, though he supposes you could be winded by the fall. “Thanks, sorry.” 

“What are you sorry for?” James can’t help it if a bit of teasing makes its way into his voice. This is something the two of you always do, you overapologizing and him making fun of you for it. “It seems like if anyone ought to be apologizing, it should be the stairs.” 

Your mouth tips up slightly. “Solid point,” you concede. 

The load in James’ chest lightens at your willingness to fall back into a casual repartee. He rubs the point of your elbow distractedly. “Wanna tell me why you’re taking an entire loaf of bread to your room?” he asks, grinning. “Do you have a secret stash of sandwich-making supplies in there?”

He feels goosebumps erupt on the side of your arm, and he does his best to soothe those, too. It must be too cold in here for you. “No,” you say quietly.

“Mm. I thought we were past this, angel. Come downstairs, I’ve still got leftover pasta in the fridge.”  

He starts to lead you down, but before he’s made it two steps you say, “No, thank you.” 

“Oh, come off it.” James shoots you another easy grin, hoping to loosen you up. “Don’t be a martyr. I’m all for carbs, but bread by itself will hardly sustain you.” 

“I don’t have much choice.” You shrug, and your shoulders stay up higher than they had been. You seem embarrassed. He waits, intrigued. “It’s sort of the only thing I can keep down at the moment.” 

It takes a blink for James to understand. “Are you not feeling well?” 

“Not very.” Your voice is softer than soft, swallowed up by the nerves James thought he’d earned an exemption from but nonetheless can’t hold against you in this state. 

He can see it, now. The way you’re holding yourself, like you could curl up on the floor at any given moment. Your complexion is flushed and your eyes slightly unfocused, glazed. 

He presses the back of his hand to your forehead. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” It comes out more caring than he’d ever meant for it to, but James is too worried about you to dwell much upon that. You bat his hand away weakly, but he just moves them both to your cheeks, feeling himself frown. “You’re burning up, love. Why didn’t you say?” 

“Not much to say.” You move away from his touch, backing towards your room. James pursues you, hand hovering near your elbow because you really do look like you could pass out. "It's a stomach bug. It'll pass."

“I could have been helping you if I knew. I just thought you were avoiding me,” he admits. You look so sorry he’s quick to smooth things over with a smile. “Do you need me to get you anything from the store?”

“I already went.” You slump onto your bed before seeming to realize he’s still behind you, your brows coming down. “I’ve got everything I need, but thanks.” 

“You went to the store like this?” James is aghast. “You should be resting! How high is your fever?” 

“Dunno.” You seem to give up uncharacteristically quickly on getting him to leave, sighing and sinking back against a propped-up pillow. “I don’t have a thermometer.” 

“You don’t?” He’s more frazzled by the second, every way in which you’re not being properly taken care of piling onto the last. It seems a miracle you’re still alive. 

You look suspicious. “Do you?” 

Shit. He grins sheepishly. “No...” 

But that doesn’t change the fact that you should, for some reason. People like James are allowed to coast through the world unprepared because responsible ones like you always have the things they need. 

He feels your face again. This time, you let him. Your breath fans warm over his wrist, those fever-glazed eyes drooping slightly. 

“Your hand is cold,” you say through a sigh. 

“I think you’re just hot,” James mutters, but that doesn’t stop him from stroking his thumb over your cheek, just once. Your lashes flutter closed, and his heart does an impressive flip in his chest. 

“Have you had paracetamol?” he asks you. 

You hum. James sweeps his thumb over your cheek again, hoping to rouse you, but it only seems to worsen your drowsiness. Your head actually lolls into his touch. 

“Is that a yes?” 

“Mhm, yeah,” you say without opening your eyes. “You need to stop doing that, m’gonna fall asleep.” 

“You should be sleeping,” he says softly. It’s impossible to keep the fondness from his voice. “I’m gonna get you a cold flannel, okay?” 

Your eyelids crack open. “I don’t need you to take care of me,” you say, voice nearly slurring with sleepiness. “I’ve always done fine, by myself.” 

“You never neglect to remind me.” James slips his hand from beneath your face, going to the bathroom between your bedrooms. “I don’t mind helping, though. You don’t always have to do everything on your own, what are roommates for?” 

You make a quiet, breathy sound he suspects might be a laugh. “None of my other roommates were ever as nice to me as you are. I think you’re taking things beyond the requirements of the job.” 

James thinks so, too. But still. Regardless of the complicated feelings he’s starting to have for you, you’ve always deserved to be treated with care. 

“You mean to tell me,” he says, wringing out the flannel and going back to your room, “that if you were this poorly, none of your previous roommates would have offered to help?” 

Your eyes are open more fully now. You watch him as he lays the flannel on your forehead, smoothing away a couple of baby hairs before they can get trapped underneath, with an odd expression on your face. 

“I handle my own problems,” you say softly. 

James’ thumb is still stroking the baby hairs at your temple. He can’t get it to stop. 

“Maybe your problems could be my problems, too,” he says. The lightness of his tone is automatic, but it serves as no representation of the great and weighty feeling in his chest. He realizes his breathing has synced to yours. Quiet inhales and exhales in your quiet apartment. 

Your eyes slip closed again. “Why?” you murmur. 

James doesn’t have an answer for that. Not one he’s ready to think about. The lines of your face smooth out as you relax. More evidence of frowns than smiles, but he likes to think he’s made progress on the little creases fanning out from the corners of your eyes since he’s moved in. He feels a pang of triumph any time they make an appearance, little rays of sunshine on a wholly lovely face. 

Because he’s your roommate. Because whether you’re ready to admit it or not, he’s your friend. Because he cares about you. 

In the end, James doesn’t have to come up with an answer. You’re already asleep.