#i think if i asked him to cut the potatoes in a different way than he's used to

[idon-twannabeperceived]

Not my dad celebrating "new food!" every time i cook like bro u could have "new food" whenever u wanted if u knew how to cook 😶

[amandacanwrite]

I would like to share a few head canons for Gale Dekarios being in love with tav/you. If you liked this one and have a request for another character let me know. These ones have just been percolating for a bit.

In Battle

He tries very hard to stay near you. He doesn’t like it when you go off on your own. He knows he doesn’t quite have the strength of Karlach or the sure footedness of Astarion, but he’s not just going to let you fight everyone on your own.

Sometimes he gets a little hurt that you always put yourself in harms way/take so much of the damage on the battlefield. Don’t you know that losing you would destroy him?

You have never witnessed it, but according to the other party members he goes feral if you’re knocked unconscious.

When you wake up it’s always with your head cradled in his lap as shadowheart works on the worst of the wounds.

He does this thing with his magic where he makes his hands really cold. It feels nice on your feverish skin as he gently smooths your hair away from your face, you don’t know why you feel so nauseous and sweaty after you black out but this little gesture helps you come back smoothly.

He has a hard time sleeping after a rough encounter. He keeps waking up and making sure you’re still breathing. In the end he gives up on sleeping and just reads by the fire, calming his nerves to the sound of your steady, stable breathing.

In Camp

He is hilariously fussy about what you eat.

“No, you ABSOLUTELY CANNOT subsist off of a loaf of bread, three olives and a bottle of wine. We are no longer young scholars barely SCRAPING by—“

Very resourceful when it comes to what you can scrape together out of barrels around camp. You were very skeptical when you watched him putting a variety of different bones into a cauldron as you left him back in camp one day. But you came back to a rich stew full of potatoes, some wild rice and even some cut up apple in the mix.

He likes it when you play with his hair. But he has to very pointedly avoid it if he’s in the middle of reading up on something.

“Darling, are you certain you’re not practiced in the arcane arts? I do think you’ve got some magic in those fingertips of yours, at the very least, with how quickly they can put me to sleep.”

When You’re Alone

It’s simple. He worships you. Perhaps it’s because his last lover was a goddess but it seems to come easy for him; the reverent words, the gentle touches, the utter devotion. Sometimes you catch him just… looking at you. His eyes softly hooded, a relaxed curve to his lips. It’s your favorite to ask what’s on his mind when he looks at you like that.

“Hm? Oh, nothing much. I’ve just been observing. Did you know you purse your lips when you’re reading something that you disagree with? Yes—hah—just like that.”

He loves to read WITH you. Especially loves to show you some of his favorite tomes. He’ll get you all nestled up against him and hold the book down in front of you. He reads much faster than you, so he busies himself kissing behind your ear or playing with your hair until you turn the page.

Gods does he love it when you ask him questions about something to do with magic. He loves watching the glint in your eye when he’s helped you understand something.

You love it when you get him rolling on a topic of theory that you know he doesn’t get to talk about much. Sometimes he loses you when he gets into the minutiae, but he’s so damn cute when he’s ranting about the wonder in the world.

In Intimate Moments

(Potential NSFW below.)

Of course it is not a surprise that he’s a generous lover. What is a surprise is how demanding he can be when he feels like it. He knows you are no stranger to a challenge and he loves to make things more exciting by presenting you with one.

“Of course I’m aware of our companions in camp. But it’s not as if we can afford ourselves more privacy. You’re just going to have to quiet those lovely little sounds you make while I touch you… let’s see… it was here wasn’t it? Ah, ah… shhhh, my love. Those pointy ears of Astarion’s might pick even that tiny sound.”

Gods does he know how to string words together to leave you completely undone.

Sometimes foreplay is mostly talk. He can get you going without even touching you.

“My love, I’ve not been able to stop thinking of the ways I want to touch you all day. Shall I tell you what’s been on my mind?”

His breath tickles against your ear as his hands smooth over your clothed body, telling you how he wants to take you. It’s all the more flustering when you know he always keeps his word.

Love making always starts with a kiss, deep and slow.

You feel him smile into the kiss when he slips his fingers into the front of your trousers and he feels just how aroused he’s made you.

“You are exquisite. A delicacy of the highest quality. Do you know that?”

He’s not one to bang it out for a quickie. He doesn’t like to feel like he’s stealing his time with you, or like he’s a young man again and hastily getting whatever he can before heading back to the dormitories. Every touch, every word, every thrust is slow and deliberate. He wants to relish the feeling of it all. He wants to soak you in.

Somehow, he always smells good. Like cinnamon and tea and… some earthen, herbaceous scent you cant place.

So many cuddles after you’re done.

[starryytales]

More Manipulative Ragatha.

ACK-

This was meant to be ~500 words and one part of a short story that went into detail of Ragatha doing different things on different days to push Pomni's boundaries, get her closer, etc. And was inspired by yesterday's ask about Ragatha intentionally throwing herself into harm's way to get hurt and get Pomni's attention.

Instead it ballooned up into a little over 2000 words and will be something of a standalone.

I would like to give my thanks and dedicate this to @miguxadraws whose enthusiasm helped push me to hit the ground running with this one!

With that said: small TW for needles (the sewing kind), and I hope you all enjoy..!

“I’m never sure how to start these things…”

I muse to myself as I tap the colorful pencil’s eraser against the empty, waiting page of my journal. Being the second longest lasting person in The Digital Circus changes how you think about information. Unlike Kinger, for example, I’m doing my best to not go insane by holding on to every piece of information until my mind snaps and I become amnesic. That means writing things down. Journal writing and compartmentalizing things. Separating the bad from the good and keeping the good close and the bad locked away.

“I suppose starting with this morning wouldn’t be a bad idea.” I flip the pencil around and begin jotting down what all happened…

Pomni woke up on me today. I didn’t bother with sleeping. Instead I just enjoyed watching her quietly snore throughout the night. God, she’s so cute when she’s asleep. She’s even more cute when she’s startled. She woke up, adorably mumbling about whatever dream she was having (I heard my name!!!), and stared up at me for a few moments. I didn’t say anything because she was clearly still out of it and wouldn’t have understood me anyway. When she realized she was using me as a full body pillow she let out wildest little yipe I’ve ever heard. She nearly hit the ceiling from jumping off of me so hard! It took a hot moment and a re-heated, leftover salmon cake to calm her down after that. I let her get dressed in peace (thank you again, God, for giving me a button eye to stealth watch with) and she left with a sweet little smile on her face.

I pause writing for a moment when I hear someone trying to stay quiet while working on something outside my door. Probably Jax. Probably with a bucket of insects and some kind of mechanical trap setup. I shake my head irritably but stay quiet. Jax would have been a lovely boy toy to keep if not for the fact he can’t stop being a punk for more than ten seconds. My single regret with him is that he only had one heart to break. The sound of his trap construction jolts me back to writing by jogging my memory.

The adventure!

How could I have nearly forgotten that when it was a huge amount of progress with Pomni?

Caine rounded us all up just like he does basically every other day.

“HELLO MY MUTANT MASHED POTATOES TODAY’S ADVENTURE BLAH BLAH BLAH-”

It was some kind of movie-like, ancient temple we had to find the treasure room of. The important part was Pomni and I took the ‘medium’ difficulty route, and we did it by ourselves. I was just about to see how well she dealt with an unprompted hand on her shoulder when I realized I had seen the hallway we were in before on a different adventure. Caine doesn’t just re-use NPCs, he re-uses chunks of levels sometimes. And I knew we were about 15 steps away from a circular saw trap that would shoot out from the wall and try to leave us with a nasty cut, to put it lightly.

My first instinct was to let Pomni walk into it. I thought it’d probably go right through her leg, maybe even both of them. I’d have to carry her all the way to the end and she’d have no choice BUT let me hold her. My better judgment got a hold of me, though. That was an awful plan. She’d hate being useless and dependent on me (at the moment, anyway). But I could still use the trap to my advantage to make her touch me…

I suddenly remembered why I nearly forgot the whole thing. Ever feel so much pain your body and brain try to factory reset?

“Hey, I think I’ve seen this hallway before.” I told her as I switched the side of her I was walking on. I picked up my pace slightly to make sure I triggered the saw without catching her as collateral. I braced myself as hard as I could without letting on something was up. A small part of me was begging to just not do this, but the opportunity was too good to pass up.

“Really?”

“Yeah! From a different adventure!”

And I think she was going to ask if I remembered anything helpful about it. That’s about when a single stone beneath my foot pressed down and I let out probably the longest running censor-bleep in Digital Circus history. The saw was as quick as lightning. My left arm, right above my elbow, was effortlessly sliced off, and the blade tore through my side like I was made of paper. I screamed and fell away from the blade. I landed against the wall opposite of it and started sliding down to the floor. Good God it hurt so bad I was seeing stars. Pomni shrieked and rushed over to me, hovering over me like she’d found a murdered body in an alleyway. I was in too much pain to get her to stop screaming for a moment so I could tell her what to do, and then she said that she would go get help.

That lit quite the fire under me, because:

1. I needed to get her used to touching me by getting her to patch me up, and, perhaps more importantly-

2. I’M TIRED OF HER RUNNING OFF WHEN I AM IN INCREDIBLE PAIN.

I have to say, despite the pain I was in, I was pretty slick with my next words.

Any person scared and hurt might say ‘don’t leave me,’ but if I left it at that, she might have just offered me a platitude about being back as soon as she could be. I had to twist the knife. She managed a single step away before I lunged at her foot and seized her ankle. I didn’t need to pretend to cry, as there were plenty of real, agonized tears.

“Please don’t leave me again!”

The ‘again’ sold it like beer at a college ball game. Oh, it hurt to see so much remorse in her eyes but it’ll make her think twice before running off again in the future. She dropped to her knees next to me and sputtered a dozen apologies before going quiet when I placed my hand on her upper leg to get her attention.

I remember gritting my teeth and having to hiss through the pain to direct her to my dress pocket (conveniently on the same side I was missing an arm on, and oh my how those little hands wander in a pocket) where I had my emergency sewing kit. Ugh. I could have died from cute-overload while watching her fumble so shakily while trying to thread that needle. When she finally managed it she looked at me with huge, worried eyes for guidance on what to do next.

I pause again to enjoy the memory of her looking at me that way. It’s almost dreamy to picture her like that. So nervously hanging off my every word… I could REALLY get used to that. Where was I? Oh, right, my little jester doing doll surgery on my side.

Feeling her touching me gently was so, so nice. And she listens so well. I bet if I told her that the stitching would only hold if she barked like a puppy, she might have actually done it. I’m so used to sewing myself up that the little pricks of the needle barely registered to me, so I up-sold the pain they caused. Clenching my teeth and (remaining) fist, and scrunching my eyes while hiccuping every few seconds as if I were holding back a breakdown. She paused once and held my cheek, and told me if I needed a break she would stop. AGH. I could have eaten her alive on the spot for being so sweet! Instead I sighed, enjoyed the touch, and thanked her but said I was okay...

I love Pomni to bits but she sews like a blind grandmother with arthritis. No cut like that is ever good or easy to work with, but even Gangle manages a cleaner stitch on a bad day. Still, that meant we got to spend the rest of the adventure like that. Her pressed up against my side, trying her best to hold as steady as possible, while keeping my stuffing from falling out as she stitches me back shut. Definitely worth every ounce of pain. When she was done she even crawled over to my arm and offered to try putting it back on. Absolutely precious.

I told her not to worry about the arm. Caine could fix it when we get back, and about when I said that our AI Overlord’s voice rang clear throughout the structure. Caine congratulated Gangle and Kinger for reaching the treasure room first, and declared the adventure over. Pomni and I fell through a portal that suddenly opened beneath us, and just like that we were back in the tent.

Caine looked me over and quipped I had gotten “too adventurous for my own good,” before snapping his fingers and fixing my arm. He then said something about seashells and vanished. The others were already heading their separate ways when I walked over to Pomni and hugged her. She jumped slightly, but didn’t pull away. I thanked her as warmly as I could for staying with me, and I saw on her face that same guilt from earlier being soothed slightly. It wasn’t enough to put her at peace, but enough so she knows I will happily praise her for doing something good.

I let her go and I offered her another meal tonight – if she was feeling up to it, that is. I could see her putting real thought into it-

My writing is once again interrupted by a dainty knock at the door.

“Ragatha? I’m here for dinner, but-” I quickly slam my journal shut and hide it away again. The last thing Pomni needs to see is the contents of that book. I hop up from my chair with a spring in my step and grab the doorknob, only for Pomni to suddenly shout.

“D-don’t open the door yet! There’s a bucket full of something on the door frame. It’s attached to some kind of trigger. Kinger’s getting it down now.”

I hear Kinger scraping something metallic away from the door before the man himself speaks up.

“Oh! That’s where you’ve all been. How do my centipedes keep winding up in buckets..?”

I had clean forgotten Jax trapped the door. The thought of being stuck with a bucket on my head as all of Kinger’s little hellspawns crawl over my face is almost enough to make me throw up, pass out, and start writing a manifesto. All at the same time. Did I say earlier I only have one regret about Jax? I have two. And the second is that I can’t drown him in the cellar.

“Okay! It’s safe now!”

Cautiously I crack open the door. My eyes are drawn to the movement of Kinger walking down the hallway with a bucket full of nightmares in his arms, but I quickly focus back on to Pomni. I let out a low, tired sigh and smile at her.

“You saved me twice in one day.” I try not to swoon, but it still kind of comes out that way. The little blush she starts sporting on her face doesn’t help.

“Ah- don’t worry about it.”

God she’s so cute when she’s bashful. I open the door and step aside to welcome her in with a playful flourish.

“Well, come on in! A hero deserves her heroic feast! I’ll get on it right away.”

“A heroic feast of spaghetti and meatballs?” She laughs, the sound as sweet as wine, as she enters and steps passed me. I laugh back with her as I start to shut the door so we can start another night off right.

“And garlic bread, that’s the really heroic part!”

[irisintheafterglow]

Hiii!! I’m absolutely in love with the way you write kiyoomi :) he’s literally perfect. If you have time, I would love a scenario where his partner meets the black jackals for the first time!! Whether it’s accidental or on purpose is up to you :)

but he was so much fun (and he had such weird friends!)

cw/tags: gn!reader, swearing, mentions of cooking and eating, domestic omi crumbs, established relationship and pet names (love, baby), pure jackals crack

note: hi love!!! this prompt is so funny omg i'm obsessed. hope you like it!!! i got extremely carried away

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated :)

"i'm-" he starts, huffing out an irritated breath and setting his knife on the cutting board, gripping the edges of the countertop. you turn to look at him from your spot at the stove, tapping the wooden spoon against the edge of the pot and placing it in the spoon rest. you check the vegetable prep over his shoulder and find neat piles of cut carrots, cauliflower, and potatoes. it didn't seem like anything was wrong with his knife skills, so it perplexed you why he was suddenly having trouble expressing his thoughts. "i'm having..."

"you're having?" you wipe your hands on a kitchen towel and gently turn him to face you, snaking your arms around his neck while his hands find their natural place on your hips. your thumb absentmindedly brushes over his moles, right above his furrowed eyebrows of annoyance.

"doubts," he says uncertainly, glancing at the dining table set for four more than its usual two occupants. the corner of his mouth juts to the side in obvious discontent, even though he was trying not to dampen your excitement for formally meeting his friends. not that he would ever call them that, at least not in this lifetime.

"how so, baby?"

"they can be a little...hard to handle," he mutters. "you know them. you've seen it," he says, voice strained and it makes you chuckle at the memory of the first time you actually met his friends.

kiyoomi wishes that it didn't happen that way at least twice a day. it was partially your fault, overestimating your ability to find him in the back halls of the msby gym facilities after only a few months of dating. after turning yourself around about four different times and unable to retrace your steps, you settled for walking in the direction of a nearby conversation. you ended up, however, steering a wrong turn into the men's locker room, yelping in surprise when you were met with three bare chests, none of which belonged to your boyfriend. apologizing profusely and briskly walking away, you were fleeing too quickly to hear the three players equally as alarmed.

it was like a scene from a cartoon; you could vaguely make out the sound of things being thrown like shirts, water bottles, and flailing limbs. there were hushed whispers of holy shit, someone just walked in here and they're so pretty and put some fucking clothes on, shoyo, that's indecency. you make the executive decision to just wait for him outside, but before you leave, your boyfriend's voice rings loud and clear from around the corner.

"what the hell are you guys freaking out about?"

"omi, dude. you just missed them."

"missed who?"

"there was this really pretty person that walked in! they were wearing the same zip-up that you were wearing yesterday, isn't that neat?" your attention darts down to the jacket that was very much kiyoomi's and definitely not yours, your face warming from pure embarrassment. "maybe you could ask them if they shop there frequently; i think they'd be your type."

"since when did sakusa have a type?"

"hey, wait! where are you going?" is the last question you hear before your boyfriend comes barreling around the corner in nothing but shower shoes and sweatpants and looking just as bewildered as you and the three guys in the locker room. after a palpable moment of shocked silence, you both word-vomit at the same time.

"you're wearing my jacket."

"why are you shirtless?!"

"you're wearing my jacket." his voice drops in volume to a yelled whisper, his hand pulling you further down the hallway and away from the locker room despite his lack of clothes. a few of the gym staff eye you in confusion and you give them a weak smile, fighting the urge to stare at the muscle rippling across kiyoomi's body. "you're wearing my jacket," he repeats for the third time, as if it was taking several tries for his brain to compute the information in front of him.

"that's your main concern?!"

"no, shit, no," he shakes his head, regaining his composure after his mind short-circuited. "my main concern is you running into the three stupidest members of my team without me there-"

"and while they were shirtless," you add and his nose scrunches in pure distaste. "wait, why don't you want me to meet them without you there?"

"because they're stupid and-and i love you and they're-and they're stupid," he stammers, visibly flustered in a way that you'd never seen him before. it sets your face on fire, hearing how easily he said he loved you when you'd never said it to each other up until that point. the same realization must hit him at the same time and he pinches the bridge of his nose in defeat, sighing through his nose. "i just said i love you."

"you just said you love me," you echo, a delirious smile widening on your mouth as you peel his fingers away from his face and lace them into yours. "you just said you love me."

"he just said he loves them!" a very eavesdropping-sounding whisper comes from behind the wall and you both flinch. like a straw breaking a camel's back, kiyoomi's face contorted into a vengeful scowl. he composed himself for a moment, promising you he'd be right back, and then stomping around the corner where you heard receding screams of terror.

that was five months ago, and you finally convinced kiyoomi to let you meet his friends formally, along with atsumu's brother who was bringing more food to help you feed four pro athletes.

"i've seen a lot more than just them being stupid," you remind him, giggling when his face turns a light shade of pink. "and, i think it's endearing how much they care for you. i know you won't admit it, but i know you care about them, too." he gazes at you so softly that it makes you melt a little. i'm gonna marry you, one day, he thinks. "now, i promise i won't be deterred by their idiocy, so let me get back to cooking, okay?"

"okay," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "i love you. a lot."

"i love you even more, omi."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[vidavalor]

*dings the bell* … I’m back.

My Ukrainian friend made potato salad! It has cucumbers, carrots, onion, & canned green peas in it, and it’s absolutely delicious!

Sooo… can I ask what moment/scene you found the most devastating so far? I guess The KissTM is the most popular but I wonder if you’ve spotted something even more heartbreaking?

Hi @procrastiel Much love to you and your Ukrainian friend & please thank her again for me for the recipe as we made it and it was delicious. 💕Hope she's doing well. The KissTM is pretty heartbreaking for sure but I had a couple of moments that I found at least equally as heartbreaking...

The blues below the cut. TW: Depression.

What really got me in S2, in terms of heartbreaking stuff, was the focus on the less "showier" kinds of depression in Aziraphale and Gabriel. I'm not dismissing the amazing Crowley story the show has been telling but it tends to be more overt. The story focusing on depression lingering beneath different types of exteriors-- those who project themselves as being upbeat and/or fine-- was really well-executed and it had moments as devastating to me as the kiss.

The "but that's for professional conjurers only" scene and, in particular, the choices made in Aziraphale's response to Crowley's "my Nefertiti-fooling fellow" response is probably my favorite bit of acting in the series entirely to date. Michael Sheen broke me into little pieces with the way he conveyed a lifetime of pain, depression, anxiety and sleepless nights in Aziraphale's eyes on the "professional conjurers" bit and the smile...

...I love how you literally watch the pain of it all melt off his face at Crowley gently reassuring him and the smile that starts and then becomes just a beam of love he can't keep off his face. It's gorgeous.

It's actually what makes The Final 15 hurt even more, really, I think-- because you know that this is what Aziraphale needed. It's the same core set of problems but he needed 1941!Crowley and he got AlphaCentuari!Crowley because of where they both were at in the moment. It just makes 2.06 even more brutal because it shows you how they do understand each other and how right they are for each other if they could just stop being idiots lol.

I also actually think this is one of the most intimate scenes in the show. It shows a lot of guts on Aziraphale's part to be honest about how he's feeling and that's courage that Aziraphale has in general but was lacking a bit in the present in S2. He lets Crowley in here-- which is the theme of all of it and what he's not doing in S2 very much, especially in 2.06-- and we get a scene where Aziraphale is vulnerable and hurting and trusts Crowley with it and Crowley is there to help him as much as Aziraphale helps Crowley. It's very sweet and romantic but in a heartbreaking way because of how it shows how much pain Aziraphale is carrying around with him all the time. The lovely bit, though, is how it also shows how Crowley knows and is trusted with it. That it all takes place in largely the same space as the mess in 2.06? Gah. Devastating...

The other storyline that broke me was Gabriel. I know not everyone has the empathy for him that I do and he can be a total jerk, no doubt, but I thought he was the best example of the show bringing in other perspectives on life in Heaven/Hell in S2. We had angles like Furfur and Muriel illustrating that life for those not on Earth is lonely, isolating and boring and that many are yearning to live a bit more. Crowley and Aziraphale have not had it easy by any means but we are given characters whose perspective is that they're jealous that Crowley and Aziraphale have at least been able to be on Earth and have one another this whole time, which is more than a lot of other angels and demons can say, and that's fair. Expanding upon the glimpses of Gabriel that we saw in S1 and showing that, really, he's more complicated than we might have expected, was something I both loved and was a bit broken by.

Essentially, S2 shows that Gabriel is actually arguably the worst off character of all of them-- Crowley and Aziraphale included. That he really had no one until Beez is shown on his face so well-- Jon Hamm and Shelley Conn selling Gabriel's depression and how healthy this relationship is in almost no time at all really shows how great they both are. Look at this poor bastard, though, really...

He has the worst job of all of them. The Metatron is really in charge of Heaven-- Gabriel's the pretty face, forced to keep everything going or be killed for disobeying. S2 emphasizes how much he and Beez did what they did at the end of S1 basically at gunpoint-- it was kill or be killed and neither of them have the power to overthrow anything on their own. They have enough power, in the future, to probably help sway some things. Gabriel's always had enough power to make differences where he could and he used it to try to protect people. He can be a judgy jerk but he also fundamentally cares about the people around him and he's been drilled for so long into believing that upholding Heaven is his only purpose and only reason for existence that he's even still mulling over the ghosts of those thoughts when he has his whole gravity crisis in S2, even when he can't remember his name.

This is the bit that got me actually teary, though:

Imagine being thousands of years old and no one's ever given you a present. You don't have a birthday. You don't celebrate holidays. No one's ever protected you or been on your side or even just listened. You don't have any friends because everyone is afraid of you and you have to put up those pretensions to stay alive. The people you spend your entire life with are out for blood-- they'd sooner see you stripped of your sense of self and tossed through the ranks or to Hell and take your seat. Your life is one, long, never-ending meeting with your abusive dad and charming personalities like Michael and Uriel and Sandalphon. For six. thousand. years. Gabriel had never eaten anything before S2. He's never slept. Imagine six thousand years of being the Senior VP of Climb Every Bullshit Mountain without ever having a lunch break or ever going home. It's kind of no wonder that Gabriel spent half of S2 taking a nap-- he's exhausted.

He's not from anywhere. He doesn't even have a desk. Is it any wonder that this poor bastard was already rebelling a bit in S1? That he didn't totally get Earth but he was sneaking down there to get tailored suits made just so he could have something that is his own and taking himself for jogs in the park so he could get away from everyone for awhile? He's vain, sure, yes, but really because his looks are all he has that actually belong to him. It's why Beez gives him a pass on the statue-- because they know that this poor guy doesn't have anybody but them. The humans immortalize him in marble like he's a God and everyone in Heaven and Hell is terrified of him-- and he's been terrified of trying to be real with others because who is he going to trust who won't stab him in the back?

All Gabriel has that is his own are his clothes and Heaven even takes that, too. Beez is the first person who has ever seen Gabriel as a person. Is it any wonder why Gabriel likes and goes to Aziraphale for help? He knows that Aziraphale is the only angel who is both kind and sorta sees him there sometimes. He's the only one who ever seems to consider that Gabriel might exist in there as more than just The Supreme Archangel.

Gabriel's memory loss is actually very much akin to the real world occurrence of retrograde amnesia, which can and does actually happen to people who have undergone traumatic events. (It doesn't happen all the time but it's also not as rare as you'd think it might be.) The mind shuts down in such a way as to intentionally forget everything related to the trauma in order to protect itself and that can sometimes result in a loss of identity. The forgetting, though, also frees Gabriel because when he can no longer recall the fascist system of Heaven that has been harming him for so long, the actual self that he's been repressing and hiding shows up.

I see a lot of people talk about Jim as if he's a separate entity from Gabriel and he's really not-- he's Gabriel without the self-protective airs that Gabriel puts on. Jim is really not much different from glasses-free Crowley-- they have the same approach to self-preservation. It turns out, when he's free from the toxic masculinity hellscape that is Heaven, Gabriel likes hot chocolate and tiny dinners and bookselling and is emotionally available and mindfully curious about everything. He's a lot of fun and he cares about his friends and is grateful to have them. He's still a snarky bitch sometimes but so is Crowley lol so... That Gabriel was so miserable before, though, I thought was really pretty heartbreaking.

Now that I've depressed you, we'll leave on the sweeter note of Gabriel torturing some humans to romance Beez...

[il0veaphr0dite]

MORE THAN FRIENDS

A/N: feel free to request anything !!

Warnings: nothing but fluff !!

Word count: 1116

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You and Minho are considered best friends. You know it, Minho knows it, even the gladers know it.

Gladers would joke and say that you were two peas in a pod, Which is funny because everyone knew you two couldn't be more different from each other.

Minho, Being the Keeper of the Runners means he's the best runner out of everyone, Which makes his ego very high. Many gladers would say he's very sarcastic and mean at times.

On the other hand, you are a Medjack who's loved and adored by the gladers. Gladers describe you as kind and gentle.

It was a shock to everyone when you two started hanging out more often.

Now it's considered a normal thing because of how many times you guys are together.

Everyone in the glade says you're more than friends but you and Minho disagree.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You were lying on a bed in the Medhut, Jeff and Clint on the bed next to you.

Things had been quiet, which was surprising because usually the Slicers were always getting hurt.

You got up from the bed and made your way to the kitchens.

Frypan was always complaining that no one ever helped him in the kitchens. And since you had nothing to do, you decided to go help him.

You walk up to the kitchens and spot frypan right away.

“Hey!” you said sprinting towards him.

He turned around surprised to see you there.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he questions

“Everything has been quiet in the Medhut so I decided to come help you,” you spoke as you jumped up on the counter.

“Help?” he asked “you mean just sit there and talk?”

“I would never!” you said jokingly putting your hand on your chest in an offended manner.

“Well since you're here to help, could you cut these for me?” he said motioning to the pile of potatoes next to you.

You got off the counter, grabbed a knife, and began cutting potatoes.

You continued to cut the potatoes but accidentally cut your finger. You hissed, dropping the knife.

“You okay?” Frypan asked as he stopped cutting tomatoes.

“Yeah,” you say nodding, picking up your knife, and continuing to cut the potatoes.

As you begin to transfer the potatoes to a pot, you hear footsteps coming toward you.

You look up to see Minho jogging towards you.

You smile waving at him.

“What are you doing in the kitchen?” he asked as he walked into the kitchen.

“It's been a quiet day in the Medhut, so I came here to help Frypan,” you said, turning around to face him.

He nods but his eyes seem to be looking at something behind you.

You turn around to see Ben, waving Minho over.

“Well, I have to go but be careful,” he said, leaving the kitchen and jogging to Ben.

You turn around, grabbing the pot and handing it to Frypan.

“So, what was that about?” he asked, taking the pot from you and placing it on the stove.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, not sure what he was talking about.

“The “Be careful”?” he asked as he began to cut onions.

“He was just telling me to be careful, what's wrong with that?”

“Why would he jog all the way over here to talk to you for 5 seconds?” he questioned.

You shrug your shoulders, not knowing the reason yourself.

“Come on. Everyone sees the way you two look at each other”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” you said, plainly confused.

“I mean did you ever consider that you may like him?”

You turn your head to look at him “What?”

“Just a thought.”

You begin to clean the counter “Yeah, okay”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

That night, you lay on your hammock thinking about what Frypan had said.

Could you really like Minho?

I mean you guys were together all the time, and sure your heart beats a little faster whenever he's around. But that doesn't mean anything.

Right?

Then it strikes you. You really do like Minho.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

The next day, you find yourself ignoring Minho. You knew that it would be weird now that you finally acknowledged the fact that you liked him.

You were cleaning up the Medhug while Jeff was helping Winston.

“I'm gonna go find Clint,” Jeff spoke, walking out of the Medhut, leaving you alone.

You soon finished cleaning and turned around to find Minho leaning against the door frame.

“What are you doing here?” you asked surprised.

He holds up his finger, which has a paper cut.

You motion for him to sit on the bed. As he sits down, you go and grab a Band-Aid, unwrap it, and make your way back to him.

You grab his finger and wrap the Band-Aid around his finger.

After you're done you look at him, but he’s already looking at you. You quickly diverted your gaze away from him

“All done,” you said as you turned to walk away when Minho grabbed your hand.

“Why are you ignoring me?”

“What do you mean?” you said trying to act clueless.

“You know what I mean. What's going on with you? Did I do something wrong?” he asked.

“No, you didn't do anything,” you said, sitting down next to him.

“Then what's wrong?”

You sighed “ It’s nothing, just something Fry said.”

“What’d he say?”

“He just said something about how we look at each other and..”

“And?” he asked, waiting for you to continue.

“And asked me if I had ever considered that I may like you,” you said hesitantly as you put your hand on the bed.

“Well..have you,?” he asked, your hands brushing against each other.

You turn your head away from him “Maybe..”

“What if I told you that I may have considered that I like you too?”

You turn your head towards him.

“Seriously?” you ask.

He nods “Seriously”

He puts a hand on your cheek as he leans in.

As your lips were about to touch yours, you heard a cough.

You both quickly distanced yourselves and turned around to see who the cough belonged to.

You saw Jeff and Clint who were giggling like girls and whispering “I told you so”

“We’ll just leave” Clint said as Jeff nodded.

As soon as they both left, Minho grabbed your chin and kissed you.

You were shocked but soon melted into it.

You put your hands on his neck as his went around your waist.

You both pulled away to catch your breath.

“I should probably ask you out right now.”

You laughed “Yeah, you should”

“Would you like to go out with me?”

“I would love to.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

[mistystepmoonbeam]

Reborn into BG3: Part 17

You're reborn into BG3 with only the memory of your past life. Now you're Tav's companion on his journey, and must learn about yourself as much as your new reality.

Chapter 17: Gee, I sure hope nobody raises the Spectator from the dead, that wouldn't be great...unless...?

Word count: ~950

A/N: Another shorter chapter because I think the next one is gonna be much longer 😳

Your first thought is you hadn’t heard anything approach you. No woosh or vibration in the air when the Spectator moved, just as it didn’t make any noise now.

Neither you nor Wyll moved, but he tensed up beside you. Each of you waited for the Spectator to move, but it just floats there, eyes on you and maw agape.

“Please tell me that’s your work,” Wyll whispers.

You want to respond, shrug, murmur, anything but your body doesn’t obey. You’re tapped in its gaze, mind blank except for that little tingle in your head. Except it’s not in the back of your head now, it’s in your left temple, like a little bit of static is settled on your skin.

“Why isn’t it moving?” you whisper to Wyll.

“I think,” Wyll says slowly, “you’re controlling it.”

“I beg to differ.” You try to cut the cord, the connection you just barely feel to it but nothing happens. The creature still stares at you and you at it. Two large thumps are heard behind you and you catch the Spectator’s eyes flick to the two tieflings you know landed behind you. It soon looks back to you.

Wyll sticks his arm in front of you and slowly starts to push you back, ensuring he’s between you and the aberration.

“Minutus!” a voice calls.

The Spectator flinches and a purple light surrounds it. Wyll gives you another small push back but rather than attaching the creature shrinks. It gets smaller and smaller until it’s the size of a large rat, blinking up at you and flexing its jaws.

You and Wyll peer down at it, quickly joined by Tav and Karlach.

“It’s so cute,” Tav says. His eyes sparkle down at the thing he killed just last night.

You hate to admit it, but he’s right. Now that it isn’t the size of a small school bus it’s not quite as scary, and the fact that its eyes take up most of its head makes it look like a Disney animal companion.

“That should take care of that.” You all turn to find Gale approaching, Shadowheart at his side. He looks at you. “Perhaps we should start those lessons sooner rather than later.”

You nod. You can feel the Spectator watching you but now that it’s smaller it seems to look around more. Its eyes roll towards the tieflings, then to Gale as if knowing he was the one that cast the spell.

“I can’t cut the thread,” you say.

“Thread?” Tav asks.

“When I…raise something,” you explain, “it feels like a thread between them and me. But with this—“ you gesture to the Spectator, “—I can’t cut it like I did with the redcaps.”

“Perhaps it’s a familiar now,” Wyll suggests. He crouches down to poke at the Spectator and when it gives a small snap at him he pulls back and stands. “When I could summon creatures from the Hells I could feel where they were, I suppose you might consider it like a thread.”

You nod again, unable to do anything else.

“Congratulations,” Shadowheart says, “you now have a familiar the size of a large potato.”

She laughs at her own joke and you scratch your nose to hide a smile. It really is the size of a large potato. The Spectator floats towards your ankles and circles you, then rubs against your boot as a cat would.

“Aww,” Karlach says, “it’s kinda cute, the little ‘tator-tot.”

“Tator,” you mumble. The Spectator looks up at you.

“I think it likes the name,” Wyll tells you. It might be a joke, but you crouch down all the same.

“Can it talk?” you ask. Shovel could talk, as could all animals given the right spell or potion.

“Perhaps, given the proper training for you both,” Gale says.

You’re not sure if you want to hear what a Spectator has to say, but there is something endearing about the way it gazes up at you. You ask, “Can you understand me?”

The creature wavers over the ground, maybe saying it does.

“Do you want to be my familiar?”

The Spectator appears to startle at the question before hurrying to circle your ankles three times. You watch it go, as do the others until it settles in front of you and opens its jaws wide, releasing a yawning screech.

“Master!” it says. Not with its mouth, but you hear the words all the same in your head.

“I don’t think you need its permission,” Wyll tells you, “but it seems to be agreeable.”

“Let’s just hope the spell doesn’t wear off in the middle of the night,” Shadowheart adds.

Gale makes a huff of indignation. “It most certainly will not!”

“Even if it did, it’s a familiar now,” Tav says. He crouches before the Spectator, ready to poke it when it moves swiftly behind your legs. You turn and reach down, carefully taking it into your arms and holding it not unlike a baby. The eyes in its tentacles close and smooth back as it relaxes into your arms. It can’t weigh more than ten pounds as it settles, all eyes closing now.

“I think it may be best to stay at camp,” Gale says. “We can go over some of the basics of controlling the weave, among other things.”

“Yeah,” you relent. At least if Gale was teaching you magic Astarion wouldn’t be hanging around. The pale elf is probably more than willing to get out of camp and stab something, and you’d prefer to avoid the myconids, at least until you have your necromancy under control.

Taglist:

@half-poison-and-half-hope @sanscas @hotmesshobbit @godoffuckedupcats @thequeen-oni @terrenuserinj @straewberrysoda @theomnipotentfox @becksynthetic @quitecontrary-to-mary @furblrwurblr @mega-trash-cringe @fandomsbookclub @dontneedbiologytoadopt @pebble-bb @v3lv3tvampir3 @mrow-kat @jeneralmischief @notsaelty @runaway-17 @aoirohi @tinswhimsy @xxgrimripp3rxx @kemonocat-blog @thetiredtoad0-0 @sleepydang @iwannabealocalcryptid @troutberryspoon @betwixttheweave @the-pale-elfs-love @kindadolly @bitchyzombienacho @game-savvy @hardbarbarianfox @secr3tlover @stranger-owl @alice4wonderland2812 @donat-senpai @rainbowangel @3dragonstar @starry-crossed @grace-writes-shit

[seoafin]

dog days are over | chapter one

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader x geto suguru warnings/tags (for this chapter): none, but please heed overall fic warnings word count: ~3.2k

fic masterlist read on ao3

“Suguru…you’re getting married?”

Your eyes are wide as you examine Suguru in a new light.

Marriage…that’s…that’s a big step isn’t it? Already? Do people get married at twenty-two nowadays? You aren’t sure. In fact, you don’t really know what people your age do. But you’re sure that whatever Suguru decides, you will support him fully. Even if he desires to get married at the early age of twenty-two. Who are you to come in the way of Suguru's apparent desire to get married?

Suguru doesn’t even blink at your words. “Of course not,” he replies smoothly, expertly dicing carrots into small cubes on the cutting board. He finishes, puts the knife down, and looks at you reassuringly. “It was just a matter of propriety. I couldn’t just leave that girl waiting for hours on end for Satoru, now could I?”

You shake your head, smiling back. Of course he would. Because Suguru is a good person who would keep a girl company at a matchmaking ceremony that Satoru either refused to show up to or forgot. You aren’t surprised to hear it. Both the fact that Suguru spent his afternoon entertaining her, and that Satoru had neglected to go to it in the first place, or even mention it to you.

Marriage…

You think of white dresses, veils, shiromukus. Endless white fabrics. Black kimonos. Cups of Sake. You think of temples, the reception, the planning. All the different options for catering and flowers and wedding invitations. Your head spins. Weddings. Marriage. Abstract concepts to you. Foreign in their conventionality. You’ve never had the luxury of dwelling too long of what a hypothetical wedding would entail. You had no use for it, really. Though you did occasionally think about how Shoko would look on her wedding day. 

Suguru is calling your name.

You blink, regaining the smile on your lips, hoping he didn’t ask you a question you had not heard. “Y-yes?”

“Just keeping you with me,” he hums, getting started on the mushrooms and potatoes. “What were you thinking about?”

“Weddings are complicated,” you say seriously. But then you think of Shoko in a wedding dress, Suguru and Satoru in black kimonos, and decide that Shoko would make a lovely bride just as Satoru and Suguru would make lovely grooms. “I hope I get to see all of you married one day.”

Though the thought of Shoko getting married disturbs you. You think of seeing her even less than you usually do and frown. Twenty-two really is a bit too young, isn’t it? She hasn’t even finished medical school yet! You force yourself away from your thoughts, regarding Suguru brightly.

“What did the two of you talk about?” You ask eagerly. 

An amused glint flickers in his dark gaze. Almost teasingly. “Flowers.”

“Flowers?”

“Flowers.”

The girl had invited Suguru to see the sprawling garden at her estate and the special lotuses she tended to daily. He politely declined. You are slightly disappointed at this. You think of Satoru and Suguru’s wedding. You think of a faceless third, a potential bride that could handle Satoru and Suguru’s tempestuous natures. A calming, dignified force. You think she’ll be beautiful, befitting the two of them. 

“Was she pretty?”

Suguru stops, knife pressed to the cutting board, mushroom split in two. He lifts his gaze, returning to your expectant gaze with an unreadable one before his expression softens. “I suppose.”

You stare at him. He…supposes? Just what is that supposed to mean? Some new cryptic way of conveying his interest? Maybe he’s embarrassed. Maybe he doesn’t want to admit it.

The amused smile returns to his lips. “I was just a temporary fill in for Satoru, nothing more.”

He resumes cutting. Finishes. Heats up oil in a large pot and pushes the vegetables into it with a knife.

He’s too modest. You’re sure he’s downplaying himself. She had invited him to her estate for a second meet, hadn’t she? You guess Satoru and Suguru and yes, even Shoko are at an age most would consider eligible for marriage. They’ll get married soon, embark on the next adventure of their lives and you’ll…

You’ll be content.

“Have you thought about it?” He asks nonchalantly. “Marriage?”

You falter, a lapse in your thoughts at Suguru’s inquiring gaze. “Not at all,” you say truthfully. “I can’t even imagine it.” Someone loving you? The thought of someone finding something worthwhile in you makes you feel greatly disturbed when you decided long ago that romantic endeavors were useless in your case. But even that line of thinking is arrogant of you. Nobody has ever shown interest in you in the twenty-one years you’ve been alive, and you are sure that even the slightest interest in you would only end with disappointment.

There is something fundamentally wrong with you. You would rather the vulnerable truth of it all not be laid bare and dissected by a scorned lover you disappointed in some way, because you had not been able to live up to the expected standards of romantic love. You would say something wrong, do something wrong. You wouldn’t understand. You don't think you'd be recover, and even the thought of it makes you feel vaguely ill.

You’re not naive. You know that love doesn’t have to be a factor in marriage, but if marriage was a necessity, then what was wrong with hoping for love, romance, passion? You’ve seen the well bred women of jujutsu society, the ones whose last names hold importance on some level, cultivated for the singular purpose of being a wife, a mother, sheltered away in their estates awaiting the inevitable. You think these girls deserve far more respect for being able to flawlessly navigate jujutsu society than you do, as a working jujutsu sorcerer. 

You also think you want better for Satoru. You think he deserves love and everything else he’s found in Suguru. You’re happy for him. For Suguru. Because even someone like you knows how rare it is to find what the two of them have.

You exhale. “But nothing’s expected of me anyway." You've never even been kissed. "I don’t have a lover, or even parents. I’m nobody important. But you, Satoru, and Shoko…" A self deprecating smile. "It seems that I’ll have to learn to live without you guys soon.” You’d be lonely. But you at least had Megumi and Tsumiki, and even Mimiko and Nanako. You were sure they’d still need you for a few more years. And then…

You’ve never thought about the future. Not to this extent. You’re unsure of what your life would be without Suguru, Satoru, and Shoko. You’re unsure if you’d even exist. 

As long as you’re alive, you’d persist. Somehow. And if you died along the way, well. You suppose you wouldn’t have to put too much thought into the future then, would you?

You must look troubled. Suguru clears his throat. You look up, just as the smell of curry fills your nose. 

He lifts up an inviting spoonful of curry. “For you.”

It takes you a few seconds to completely pull out of your thoughts, and to register the spoon in his grip. You learn forward automatically, mumble ‘thank you for the food,’ and eat his offering. The curry is delicious, savory with a sweet note that can’t just be attributed to the apples you had seen him blending before to mix into the sauce. Your gaze drops to an opened packet on the counter.

“Dark chocolate?”

“A tip I got from some of the housewives in the complex,” Suguru replies, satisfied with your response. “They said that it’d add an additional note of flavor. I’m guessing it worked…?”

You nod vigorously. “It’s delicious!”

Of course Suguru’s made good with the housewives in the fancy apartment complex the two of them live in with the kids. Suguru wanted a big kitchen. Satoru wanted a view. The penthouse seemed to both their tastes.

It’s a lovely apartment, with a large sprawling living room that includes ceiling high bookshelves, an open kitchen with a long island, and stairs that spiral to a second floor. Accommodating two adults, four kids and more, easily. It brings a smile to your face to see traces of Satoru and Suguru, and all the kids all over the apartment. You’re sure the confetti and colored paper scraps on top of the kotatsu are from Mimiko and Nanako and Tsumiki. Some school project that involved copious amounts of glue and glitter. There’s a book you bought for Megumi on the couch. Just as the bookshelves are full of Suguru’s own books. The big jar of sugar in one of the upper cabinets of the kitchen (far away from the kids’ reach) is Satoru’s. To add into his cereal, tea and anything else accommodating his usual sugary diet. There’s an identical jar back at your apartment. Satoru’s sugar jar.

To Satoru and Suguru and the girls, Megumi, and Tsumiki, it’s home.

Suguru’s eyes crease with the curve of his lips, pleased. “I’m glad you like it.” 

“Everyone’s going to love it.” Especially the twins, you think. Chocolate in their curry seemed to be exactly the kind of thing they’d delight at, in the small bursts of childlike wonder they rediscovered after Suguru rescued them. They followed after Satoru with their sweet tooths. However, after Nanako had been found with a cavity, Suguru had been forced to put a hard limit on their sugar intake, much to their disappointment.

Suguru gives the curry a stir, almost absentmindedly, as if he’s pondering something.

“I think about it,” he says, after a small silence. “Getting married.”

Oh.

Of course Suguru has thought about marriage. What, with all the marriage talks and matchmaking ceremonies and lovely elegant women in their pretty kimonos, who probably knew all the perfect ways to serve tea and facilitate conversation in all matters of talk. Suguru would make a perfect husband. Anybody would be lucky to marry Suguru. Charming and kind and handsome. 

You’ve begun to formulate a question about whether or not anyone’s caught his or Satoru’s eye, when you hear a thundering of footsteps. 

“We’re backkkkkkk!” Nanako hollers, rushing into the open living space, pulling Mimiko along with her. “Papa, are you making curry? It smells good!”

Mimiko nods her agreement, tugging on Suguru’s apron. Suguru greets them with a smile, untying his apron and pulling her up into his arms, just Satoru strolls into the room, Tsumiki at his side, Megumi trailing a few steps behind them.

“I’m starved!” Satoru announces, peering over the stovetop at the boiling curry. When a hand sneaks for a piece of chocolate, Suguru slaps his hand away. 

Suguru takes the chocolate away and puts it into a drawer as Satoru gawks. “It’s not the kind you’d like anyway.”

“Tsumiki, Megumi,” you start. “How’s school?”

You have regrettably not been able to visit as much as you wish you could. Your studies kept you busy. Your missions kept you out of Tokyo. You hope your absence isn’t missed too much. You read that children should grow up in stable environments. Your schedule was the last thing from stable.

Tsumiki beams. “I’ve got a part in the school play. We’re putting on Hachikazuki-hime!”

You make a mental note to grab the date from Satoru so you can clear your schedule. Tsumiki would be graduating elementary school soon. Already onto middle school. Children grow up so quickly. You’d have to take as many pictures as you could to compile an elementary school picture book for all the kids.

“Is that why you guys were all at the school so late?”

She nods. “Ah, and Megumi hasn’t gotten into a fight in a month,” she says excitedly. “It’s a record!”

The aforementioned boy makes a face. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

You grin, ruffling the boy’s hair. “That is a record!” Satoru had taken care of an incident a month ago in which you had been called to the school over an altercation between Megumi and another male student. You hadn’t been able to make it. You didn’t ask what Satoru had done, but you have a suspicious inkling that it had been waved away with a twirl of Satoru’s trusty black card.

You catch a glimpse of the clock above the refrigerator and balk. You snatch up your bag from the floor and wrap Tsumiki and Megumi in your arms and squeeze.

“I have to go now! I’ll see you guys later.”

“You’re not staying for dinner?” Mimiko asks quietly, peering up at you through her black bangs.

A sheepish breath escapes you. “I have a lot of homework, unfortunately.” You’d get takeout from that new tempura restaurant that opened up a couple of blocks away from your apartment. Then it was back to the books for you.

Satoru frowns. “You can’t stay an hour?”

Nanako and Mimiko and even Tsumiki voice their agreement.

Even Suguru looks displeased. Though you suppose it’s your fault. It had been your intention to stay until…

Suguru wanted to get married. He was thinking of marriage. With Satoru, with some other faceless bride to be. All three of them. You had said it yourself, hadn’t you? You’d have to learn to live without them. 

All of this is just temporary. 

You turn to the kids. “Why don’t you guys wash up for dinner?”

One by one, they shuffle off to their rooms. Megumi gives you an inquiring stare, but you wave him off.

“I’ve got a lot more work than I thought…” you trail off underneath their twin scrutiny. “I think it’d be best for me to go home for today.”

“Home,” Satoru repeats. His lips twist, effectively staunching all the words that would undoubtedly tell you exactly what he thinks about your decaying one bedroom apartment that had become your home after you graduated. You were untethered after graduation. While it was an occasion, jujutsu tech had been your home for better or worse for four years. It was the first place you had truly thought of as a home. And to leave it…

Yaga had offered you your room on campus, if you wanted to stay. But it didn’t seem right. Not without Suguru, Satoru, and Shoko. You found your apartment off a flyer attached to a pinboard while at a public library. Shoko had visited the apartment with you, negotiated rent down with the landlord, and the lease had been signed with little fanfare. It was small enough that you wouldn’t feel too lonely. Big windows overlooking a courtyard in the back. She hadn’t been thrilled about it (Satoru and Suguru even less so), but it was clean with a well worn floor and chips in the wall adjacent to the kitchen from what you presumed was to measure a child’s height. It endeared you to the apartment immediately.

Your landlord had informed you that a single mother had lived in your apartment before vacating it. You thought that there must have been love in your apartment once. So much love that a child could grow up happily scribbling away on the same walls you woke up to everyday. Maybe, somehow, this love would make you feel less lonely.

Your apartment was home. 

“Then let me pack you—”

“It’s fine, it’s fine!” You say hurriedly, backing towards the foyer. “I’d hate to trouble you. I have food at home.”

“I’ll walk you.” Satoru says, grabbing his jacket off the counter.

“I’ll take a taxi from the lobby.” You refuse. You can’t hide your smile, touched by their concern. “You should all eat. As a family.”

Suguru stares at you, the weight of his dark gaze making your skin prickle. It makes you feel as if you’ve said something wrong.

“At least make Ijichi drive you home,” Satoru says, exasperated, gesturing to the ceiling length windows that detail the darkness that has set over Tokyo. “It’s dark out.”

You blink in disbelief. “Satoru…” He cocks his head to the side. “Are you still using Ijichi as your personal chauffeur…?”

“...”

You turn to Suguru who seems to suddenly find the potted flowers resting by the window interesting.

Your mouth drops. “Not you too, Suguru! For the last time, you two can’t make Ijichi drop everything he’s doing to drive you through Tokyo!”

You sigh, shaking your head. These two. You feel sympathy towards Ijichi’s plight. Maybe that was why he had looked so withered the other day while you had visited Shoko in the morgue at Jujustu tech. Shoko had made a joke about watering him like you’d water a plant. You, however, could not find the humor in the situation when your kouhai had truly looked to be in need of water. And sleep. And food.

Maybe you could treat him for a meal one of these days…

“Does Ijichi like yakitori…?” You wonder out loud.

“I wouldn’t know.” Suguru says lightly, despite the peeved expression on his face. You can tell that Suguru, really, could not care less about Ijichi’s tastes.

“I don’t care about that man,” Satoru deadpans. “Why are you talking about Ijichi right now?”

You are unimpressed by their responses. “Anyway,” you sigh out. “I’ll be going now.”

“I’m coming—”

“No you aren’t,” you’re already halfway out the door. “Eat Suguru’s delicious curry,” you tell them both. “Tell the kids I love them. Goodnight.”

You don’t take a taxi. You walk fifty minutes to your apartment in the brisk winter in an effort to clear your mind. It doesn’t work. Suguru wants to get married. Satoru too, maybe, despite his efforts to avoid all the matchmaking ceremonies and invitations to go back to the Gojo estate for more lectures on the importance of continuing the Gojo line with an heir. In the end if Suguru wanted it, Satoru would end up wanting it too, as that was the nature of things. The two of them reconfiguring themselves around the other, always in tandem. A girl would catch Satoru’s eye, or Suguru’s, or maybe both of their attentions. And if she made them happy, you would be happy.

It wasn’t as if Suguru and Satoru didn’t have prospects. There was no shortage of girls who would gladly offer themselves. They didn’t need any help in that aspect. Besides, you are sure you’d be of absolutely no help in matchmaking. You always found it difficult to talk to pretty women. Your mouth never quite worked right. They always smelled nice too…

What you can do…

You can keep your distance. Slowly disengage yourself from the tangle of their lives. You’d be relegated to watching from the sidelines. You’d be content. Maybe you could keep Shoko to yourself for a little bit longer. To your knowledge, she had no intention of getting married. You hoped. Yet anyway. 

You jam your keys into the door of your apartment, slightly lifting the weight of the door up and jiggling the keys to the right. When you walk into your apartment, you set down your bag. You had forgotten about the takeout. There’s no food in your apartment except for a rotting carrot in the fridge that you throw out, and Satoru’s big jar of sugar on the island. 

Oh well, you didn’t have to eat. There's old tea in your cabinet. You ready the kettle. As you wait for the water to heat, you look out the window and think the apartment feels especially big tonight.

[pavlovianfuckery]

how about a fucked up game of hot potato because why not

MASTERLIST

linky for those AO3-ly inclined: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42497385

anyone else a greedy indecisive bitch or is it just me? no? this got messy as fuck and i'm sorry, i was just unbelievably thirsty

5.8k of something vaguely???? i dont want to say gangbang but gangbang adjacent? adjacent-ish? whatever you wanna call it, it's under the cut

Going to bed on the night of your birthday is a somewhat gloomy affair. The day itself had been...fine, you supposed. Sure, there had been a bit of a party, a cake and a few thoughtful gifts from your closest friends. But that had been all. Nothing wrong with any of it. Still, you couldn't help being just a bit disappointed that the only one you had truly wanted to see today had been conspicuously absent. It's stupid of course, something so insignificant as somebody turning a year older would be laughably far beneath the notice of someone like him. And still.

Annoyed, you fully expect to have several sleepless hours ahead of you, so when you drift off as soon as your head hits the pillow, it's a pleasant surprise. Even more so is where you find yourself when you enter the Dreaming.

You'd been in his chambers before, of course. It might not have been very often or for very long, as the fleeting moments before waking up always seemed to pass so quickly. Arriving straight here was new. When his arms envelop you from behind you can't hold back a smile.

"Hey. I missed you today."

"Then I hope my absence can be forgiven," his voice is sly as he continues, tightening his arms around you a just fraction, "but I must confess, I wanted you all to myself when offering my gift."

Leaning back into him, you simply bask in the feeling of having him close.

"What kind of gift would that be? Nothing nefarious, I hope."

He rests his chin on your shoulder and clicks his tongue in mock disapproval, breath tickling your ear. "'Nefarious'? You wound me. That would depend entirely on what you wish for."

"I see. So the gift is a wish, then? Can I wish for anything I want?"

"Within reason, yes. Do you perhaps have a request in mind already?"

Being spoilt for choice isn't your strong suit and usually, this kind of situation would leave you at a loss and unable to make any choice at all, but for once you do know what you want. The real question is if he will go for it or not. Possibly mistaking your hesitation for reluctance, he makes you face him.

"I do have something I would like, but it's...silly." Biting your lip you turn your eyes away, unable to keep some embarrassment from showing.

"I have already seen your every fantasy, every dream. Nothing you could request would shock me," he reassures you."So go on my sweet, make your wish known, for I long to hear it."

"It's more of a combination of two different things, now that I think about it."

"Fortunately for you, I find myself in a very generous mood this evening." His tone is dry but his lips twitch into a small smile.

"Okay, so, first things first. Could I..." you take a deep breath, "Could I have more of you?"

"More in what sense?" The question doesn't faze him in the slightest, which bodes well for the other half of the request.

"In the 'more than one of you' kind of sense." Your cheeks are blazing and you almost can't believe that you just said that, but at least now the cat is out of the bag. Or one cat, at any rate.

"While we are here, in my realm, you certainly could. Is that what you want?" The way he looks at you when he asks makes lust coil in your belly, hot and heavy.

"Sort of." You plant a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth, "Do you remember..." you fiddle with the collar of his coat a bit, still feeling a bit shy about the whole thing, "when you showed me some of the things you used to wear, way back when?"

"I do." Judging by the look in his eye, he can tell where this is going. "As I recall, you rather enjoyed that."

"I did. Very much, in fact." The way he preens at that is kind of adorable.

"And was there, by any chance a...favourite?" He looks at you through lowered lashes, the way he fishes for another compliment not nearly as subtle as he would probably like to think.

"Well, you see, that's the problem, I don't think there was." You've never seen him confused before, but this comes pretty close. Figuring it's better to rip the bandaid off sooner rather than later, you go on; "I adored every version of you. How could I choose only one? I want all of you."

"Is that your wish?" You have a sneaking suspicion that he will be insufferable after this, because he looks like a cat that has eaten an entire flock of canaries, eyes gleaming. "To have one of me for every era? All at once?"

"Can I?" The thought makes your insides quiver, want making you almost dizzy. "You're not...upset with me or anything?"

That makes his eyebrows shoot up, or as close to it as you've ever seen.

"My love, how could your request possibly upset me? If anything, I am flattered that you would hunger after me so." He cups your chin in his hand and brushes his lips across yours. "I would deny you nothing, but I do have terms of my own."

"Tell me." The eagerness in your voice makes him smile again and you almost regret the whole thing immediately, because if there is one thing he doesn't particularly need, it's an ego boost.

"As it happens, my request is also twofold. Firstly, I get to watch." He slides his arms around your waist and pulls you close, and his breath is hot against your ear as he continues; "Secondly, you may have each of me only once, and after you have had your fill, I fully intend to have my own turn with you as well."

"That sounds," the thought of him watching you like that makes the words stick as if your tongue was made of flypaper and you struggle to swallow, getting the words out. "Sounds fair. Why only once though?"

"I admit my motive for that is entirely selfish; I want you lucid enough by the end of it for me to enjoy properly." The way he says it is almost a purr, and if your knees weren't weak before they're certainly starting to get there now. That he would even be willing to indulge you like this wasn't a given, but him outright enjoying it makes you almost giddy.

"Okay. So, this is a bit embarrassing but...I have no idea how this is supposed to work. I didn't really think that far ahead," you admit a bit sheepishly. "Is there anything I should keep in mind at all?"

"Did your appetite get the better of you?" That earns you an outright chuckle, though not unkind. "No matter, I will take care of you," he strokes your cheek with a soft smile. The emphasis on 'take care' doesn't go unnoticed, and it makes anticipation buzz under your skin. "The only thing I require of you tonight is that you enjoy yourself. You need not treat them any differently than myself because, in every way that matters, that is what they are."

"And you're sure that you're alright with this? I don't want you to feel like you're being left out or anything like that." You frown up at him, feeling terribly selfish.

"Your concern is touching but unnecessary, my love." He rubs his thumb over your bottom lip, his tone airy as he continues, "Anything I create for you will be connected to me, and in part, I will share in the sensations."

Flicking his eyes over your shoulder, he steps closer and kisses you deeply, pushing you to take a few steps back until you hit something solid and pair of arms circle your waist from behind. Your heart is beating against your ribs like a bird in a cage and when another pair of hands join in and slides under the hem of your shirt, it feels like all the air leaves your lungs at once. When you whimper into his mouth, he pulls back and has the absolute gall to smirk at you.

"Go on now, indulge yourself to your heart's content. I will be right here, awaiting my turn."

And with that, he saunters over to the sturdy chair by the desk and sits down, in what might be the most nonchalant way you've ever seen. Leaving you there with, well, all of him.

It's a bit like being thrown to a particularly polite pack of ravenous wolves. Being surrounded like this is a bit disorienting and with the way they all eye you hungrily, the thought that you might be in over your head this time flashes in your mind. It's surprisingly gentle though, the way you get passed from one version of him to the next, all of them stepping in close, taking turns, putting you at ease. You've always marvelled at the softness of him, of his skin, but in this mass of bodies and mouths and grasping hands, it feels like you could drown in it.

The way they undress you is no less gentle, one pair of hands passing you to the next until your bare skin is pressed against the myriad of fine fabrics. Some questionable decisions aside he has always dressed well, every texture brushing your skin feeling nothing less than luxurious. It's intense, all the teasing little touches and kisses from every direction, and they don't stop even when you feel like you might implode. The entire time you can feel the way your Morpheus watches you, his gaze on you an almost physical weight.

It's overwhelming, and your knees start to buckle. For a moment you think that you might just sink to the floor, but strong arms steady you as the closest one pulls you to him, the cloth of his tunic so lovely against your heated skin.

"It's alright," he murmurs against your lips, "I've got you."

Pushing one leg between yours he guides your hips, encouraging you to grind against it. It feels better than it has any right to, and when he backs the few steps away to the bed and hauls you on top of him, you don't resist. You're not expecting to come like this, humping his leg like a bitch in heat and ruining his trousers, but the rest of him won't stop touching you and he's watching you and it's simply too much. His slightly longer hair tickles your cheek as you hide your face in the crook of his neck, and with one last slow drag over his thigh, you come, without even meaning to.

Some silly part of your brain feels like you should be apologizing, but when you open your mouth to do just that, this version is gone and you're alone on the bed. You shoot a confused look at your Dream, sitting leisurely in the chair still.

"Did you forget my terms, my love?" He looks like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth as he reminds you, clearly enjoying himself.

Not letting it get to you, you simply set your sights on the next one. It's not as easy as you might have hoped. It's a lot like being a kid in a candy store at this point, they all look so tempting and you just want to devour every single one.

You've always enjoyed a good suit though, and the suit he'd chosen for one of the more recent versions of himself was very good. His hair is shorter than you can recall ever seeing it, and with the ruby shining at his throat, he looks every bit the distinguished gentleman. The sharp lines of the suit are a stark contrast to the rest of him, making the plush pink of his lips look even more inviting. That's probably not the effect he intended, to look kissable rather than imposing, and the thought almost makes you giggle. It doesn't stop you from approaching him and doing just that, though, grabbing hold of his lapels as you do so.

The kiss leaves you winded, the fabric of the expensive-looking suit jacket rubbing deliciously against your nipples.

"This is a good look on you," the words are a bit breathless in their delivery, but they do come easier now, inhibitions crumbling away. The shorter hair feels a bit strange in your hand, not being as much to pull on. It still works though, and he gives easily enough, letting you bite his neck gently, scraping your teeth over the creamy skin. "You should wear a suit more often."

He's a bit too perfect though, still too composed. Undoing the buttons of the vest takes some doing, but you manage it, fingers barely shaking at all. The dress shirt is a lot thinner than what you're used to, and having him so close with almost nothing separating your hands from his skin is maddening.

"Perhaps I shall," the slight curve of his lips makes you want to kiss him again but he grabs your chin, his grip surprisingly gentle as he runs his thumb across your bottom lip. "Tell me what you would like."

You can't resist flicking your tongue out, licking the pad of his finger as you consider your options. When you suck the digit into your mouth he blinks at you slowly, and you can feel him stir through his trousers. It makes your mouth water, makes you know precisely what you want.

"I want to suck you." It comes out as a sigh, full of longing. "Want to come with you in my mouth." Stroking his thighs through the deceptively thin fabric feels wonderful, the muscles of his legs firm under your hands. "Can I? Please?" When you meet his eyes, they are barely blue anymore, the way they reflect the light betraying his true nature.

"You may."

He makes dropping to your knees so easy. Something about kneeling at his feet like this feels right, and as he gets his length out and rubs the tip over your lips you can't stop a small whine from escaping.

"You have the prettiest cock I've ever seen, have I told you that?"

"No." He strokes your hair, gently encouraging you. "Show me."

It's not an order, not quite. Still, he doesn't have to tell you twice. Everything about him is so smooth, his skin like silk as you run your lips over him. At first, you simply lick at the head, teasing fat drops of pre-come out of him, lapping them up like the most precious of pearls. The way they coat your tongue is heady and it always makes you feel oddly powerful, this tangible proof of the effect you have on him. Using your hand to cover what your mouth can't, you start working him in earnest, putting on a bit of a show as you let the drool drip down your chin, drawing the loveliest noises out of him.

The long, shaky exhale as he hits the back of your throat makes you ache.

"Touch yourself for me."

You can't respond, but you can do as he says, so that is exactly what you do. It's hard to do it effectively, but you don't have to be very precise, just the sounds you coax out of him as you bob your head is enough to bring you a good part of the way on their own. From here you can see your Dream from the corner of your eye, and it looks like he wasn't being disingenuous about the "sharing the sensations" part. His cheeks are flushed, legs spread wider than before as he breathes heavily, his eyes never straying from you. Even from here, you can tell that he is painfully hard, the tightness of his jeans does nothing to hide it.

Just to see what he'll do, you decide to press your limits, just a little. In the waking world, you probably wouldn't be able to do it very easily, not like this. But this is the Dreaming, so you relax your throat and take him even further. When you swallow around him the noise he makes above you is a strangled thing and he grabs onto your shoulder, steadying himself.

"Do that again."

When you do, the Dream watching you sags in his seat, knuckles white as he grips the armrests. It doesn't take a lot after that, hearing him and tasting him and watching the way he watches you. It's not as fast as the first time, but you still come faster than you wanted to, your own fingers pushing you over the edge with a few shaky rubs. With the way he fills your throat, you can't even moan as you spasm around nothing, regretting that you hadn't asked for more, to be filled there too.

You wish you could have kept going a while longer but you had agreed to the terms and he holds you to them, though it's less of a surprise this time around. Still just as frustrating though.

"I wasn't finished with that one," you pout at him.

"You were, though." His breathing is still a bit uneven. "Would you rather argue with me, or enjoy the rest of your gift?" Before you can respond he continues, "Or have you perhaps changed your mind? I can take it back if you'd prefer."

"Now you're just being mean." It gets you to your feet and moving again though, not wanting to risk finding out that he's serious. He always looks good so making any kind of choice is still difficult, but you manage. This one you trap against the edge of the desk with your body, caging him in with your arms.

"Why the fuck," you ask, kissing his neck, "are you dressed like a priest? On second thought, don't answer that."

"You seem to like it well enough," he murmurs as you grind your hips into his.

"It's absolutely ridiculous." Twisting the voluminous sleeves you wind the fabric around your hands, using it to pin his wrists to the desk as you bite his neck, perhaps a little bit rougher than you had originally intended.

"Never have I met a creature quite as greedy as you, my love," he groans as you mark him, bruises staining his pale throat prettily. "I would lay my hands on you, if you'd have me. Let me please you."

The way he says it makes it sound so good, so tempting, that you let him go, let him lay you out on top of the desk. This way you're close enough to touch your Dream, so you reach for him, pulling him down for a kiss. Being crowded like this feels better than you had ever imagined as they take turns kissing you, touching you, until you're almost dizzy with lust again.

"Is this..." you pant against his lips as one of his other selves sucks one of your nipples into his mouth greedily, "is it alright, like this?"

Every bit of worry or shame evaporates as he slides a finger into you, though, making you abandon the kiss in favour of watching his hand between your legs. The sleeves might look ridiculous but they feel lovely dragging over the insides of your thighs as he pumps in and out of you slowly. He's always known how to touch you well, and this time is no exception as he adds a second finger, hooking them just so. The way his fingers drag over that one spot inside makes you tremble.

"Can I have some more?" You can feel him grin against your skin at the question, but he doesn't bother to tease you, just adds a third finger, his thumb settling over your clit, just barely touching. The way he ghosts the pad of his finger over it makes you squirm, wanting more still, for him to rub you properly.

"Patience, my sweet," he admonishes you, "I will take care of you, if you let me."

With that, he plunges a fourth finger in and gently presses down on your lower belly, trapping that sensitive spot between the palm of his hand and his fingers. The way he massages you is slow and methodical, as if he has all the time in the world to pull you apart. Every brush of his thumb is light as a feather, and while it makes you want more, you don't strictly need it. You can feel your peak approaching, slow but inevitable.

"If you keep that up I'm going to, "you tangle your hand in his hair, gasping, "make a mess of your desk."

"I know." The way he looks at you then is so smug and just all-around indecent that you can't decide if you want to punch him or kiss him. You barely have time to settle on the latter before pleasure overcomes you, washing over you in powerful waves. You can't remember the last time you were this wet and he's not stopping, whispering encouragements against your lips as you pulse and gush over his fingers with a pitiful little whimper.

The last spasm has barely finished when he leaves you empty, splayed out alone on the desk. Or, not quite alone. This time, the choice isn't yours, another Dream stepping in between your legs before you've barely had time to catch your breath. Compared to the softer fabrics you're accustomed to, the fine leather makes him look sleeker, meaner, though no less inviting.

"This is...different." Running your hands over it, you revel in the buttery feel of it under your fingers. "I think I like it though."

"Of course you do," He doesn't bother to hide the pleased look on his face.

"Hold on, is that..." you pull him down closer, craning your neck to see. "You never told me you had an earring."

"Should I have? It hardly seems important." There is a small wrinkle between his eyebrows, confusion over why something so small could be significant at all. It's pretty adorable.

"Maybe," you hum, wrapping your legs around his waist, petting his hair as you catch the small ring in your teeth, giving it a little pull. He seems to enjoy that, letting out a short exhale of breath as he grinds his hips into you. He's half hard already, uncaring of the mess.

"You can have me like this, if that is what you want." Preoccupied with the earring still you don't respond right away, so he adds, "Unless you would rather play with my jewellery?"

"Sorry." You let it go, albeit reluctantly.

"No need to apologize. If you enjoy it so much, perhaps I should wear it again." His eyes sparkle with mirth as he kisses you, clearly amused by your dumbstruck expression as you imagine the present iteration of him with an earring. "Now, turn over for me."

When he asks like that you can hardly refuse, nor do you want to. At this rate, you're not sure how much more you can take. Being in the Dreaming can only stretch your limits so far, and you're starting to approach yours.

"Wider." The leather of his boots is smooth against your calves as he pushes your legs apart. Once you're arranged to his liking, he leans over you and kisses the back of your neck, his tip prodding your entrance as he rocks his hips gently, not entering just yet. Your Dream is watching you intently, reaching out to twine your fingers together.

"Are you enjoying your gift so far?" The small smile on his lips makes it very obvious that he doesn't expect you to respond in any coherent way. When his other self slides into you, burying himself as far as he will go, they both moan, his grip on your hand tightening.

The pace he sets is slow and deliberate but not very gentle, his grip firm on your hips as he nearly lifts you onto the tips of your toes. Still sensitive from your last orgasm, the way he drives into you with inhuman precision is its own form of torture, pushing you towards the next one with relentless focus.

"Morpheus please, I can't," the words come out in a garbled kind of plea, "it's too much, I can't."

"You can." He sounds so certain, not leaving you any room to argue as he presses himself against you and pushes you down to prevent you from wriggling. "You will."

And he's right, you can feel it. It's a slow burn, like petals unfurling, and it feels like you could swallow him whole, the intensity of it turning your legs to jelly. This isn't the kind of release you can chase, all you can do is wait for it, for him to bring you there.

"You feel so good like this, so plump with pleasure," he sighs, rolling his hips into yours. "Let me feel you." Just hearing his voice brings you closer, he's watching and you're so very nearly there, and then your Dream is kissing you, drinking your every sound like a man parched and he's still talking.

"Come with me." He bottoms out then, and it's either the 'with' or the way he swells so deep inside of you that does it, but you do. It's like melting, like falling, but he catches you, holds you there as you go limp underneath him, hardly able to breathe. He hurtles over that edge right along with you, groaning as he does, but the noise your Dream makes right into your mouth is downright filthy.

Being left empty is no less jarring this time around, but you're more interested in him, the damp spot at the crotch of his jeans. He notices you looking, and lets out an amused little huff of not-quite-laughter, leans his forehead to yours.

"Don't worry, my love," he nips at your bottom lip, eyes dark. "I fully intend to have my turn with you still." He leans back in his chair and drops a kiss on the back of your hand. "Enjoy the rest of your gift. I will be waiting for you."

Flopped bonelessly on top of the desk, you do your best to catch your breath and clear your head. If you had known exactly what you were getting into, you might have been a bit more restrained and not asked for all of him like this, but you're not going to back out now. He's not really letting you either, his mind set on giving you exactly what you asked, for better or worse. When the next pair of hands touch you softly, gliding up the back of your legs, you lean into it, refusing to let him get the better of you as you turn to face him.

"Do you need rest?"

Probably.

"No."

"Very well." If he doubts you, he doesn't show it, leaning over to take the tip of your breast into his mouth.

Something about this version of him is a bit too immaculate, too polished. Everything from the too-rich fabrics of his clothes to the touch of makeup around his eyes makes him look decadent, like a dessert that is just a bit too heavy to stomach more than a mouthful of. There is an honest-to-god ribbon in his hair, tied in the most infuriatingly perfect bow you've ever seen. The effect is maddening; he looks like something you'd like to ruin. And judging by the way he looks at you as he kisses his way down your body, he absolutely knows it.

It's a simple thing for him to haul you to the edge of the desk, leaving you open to him. All his finery makes him look entirely out of place kneeling between your legs, but you can't quite find it in you to care as he kisses you there softly, giving your clit a little flick with the tip of his tongue. Everything is just this side of too sensitive and you flinch away on pure reflex, but he doesn't let you close your legs, keeping them apart with his hands.

His breath is hot on you as he gently laps at you, soothes you with his tongue, almost impossibly soft. Rather than devour you he cleans you, his eyes fixed on yours as he takes every part of you inside his mouth, working his way from the outside in. And in.

The way his cheeks hollow as he sucks at you is nothing short of obscene. The sight alone is enough to make you want him all over again but then he opens his mouth, shows you his tongue coated in his own release and you throb. Watching his adam's apple bob as he swallows makes your mouth go dry and you're not sure what kind of noise you just made but it must have been something to make him smirk at you like that. When he puts his mouth on you again, you bury your fingers in his too-perfect hair.

He is nothing if not determined, wholly uncaring of the fact that you're nearing the limit of how much more you can take. Slipping first one finger into you, then another he sighs, kissing the inside of your thigh.

"I love seeing you like this, all undone for me."

When he puts your aching clit between his lips and gives it a few slow gentle sucks, you can't help clawing at him until the ribbon in his hair comes loose.

"Morpheus, please!" Everything is hazy around the edges and you're not sure if you're begging for more or less or something else entirely, "please, oh please, pl..."

And then there is a mouth on yours, muffling your cries, hands cradling your face. There is almost too much of him like this, so much to touch and his other self is still devouring you like you're the sweetest thing he's ever tasted until you're a quivering mess under his tongue, tense like a bowstring. It's a slow kind of falling apart and you can barely make a sound as he wrenches your release out of you, dragging it out hot and slow, bordering on painful. His hands are the only thing holding you up as he kisses you as if he could swallow you, take you into himself and keep you there.

When the waves of pleasure recede it's almost a relief, finally letting you breathe. Opening your eyes, you think for a split second that you might cry, the way he's looking at you is so soft. No tears fall, but your love for him rises and swells in your chest until it feels like you might burst at the seams, choking you as you wind your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair.

"Take me to bed? Please?"

And he does, they both do. You want to undress him, to peel him out of all those layers, you do, but you're shaking and your fingers can't quite obey, fumbling the buttons until he simply lets all of it fade away and you're pressed between both of them with nothing separating you.

It's a remarkably tender thing, the way they tangle their limbs with yours, kissing every inch of your skin like you're something precious. You vaguely remember how he said that he wanted you "lucid enough to enjoy" but that isn't what he ends up getting, not quite. He doesn't seem to mind though, even as he puts you on your hands and knees.

Despite the exhaustion starting to set in, having his cock right in front of your face like this is a temptation, one you don't bother fighting. Even your mouth feels clumsy as you take him in, wanting him in any way you can get. When his other self starts easing into you from behind you can't keep a whine back, overstimulated nearly to the point of tears.

"Shhh, just let me..." He whispers, pressing kisses to your back, long hair sliding over your skin like strands of silk, "just let me..."

And you do, letting him sink in as far as he will go. He rocks against you so gently, like he's worried you might break. At this rate, it feels like you might. Trapped between the both of them like this, the only thing you can really do is let them, let him, use you. When he puts his hand between your legs and starts stroking you, it feels like he might actually drive you mad.

"Just one more, my sweet," he whispers, his breath tickling the back of your neck, "one more for me, then you can rest."

Every slide of his finger over your swollen clit feels like ice, like fire, and you can't even move away. You feel like a worn-out spring being wound up too tightly, but he is utterly determined to coax one more climax out of you, not stopping even when you start whimpering. When your walls start fluttering around him, weakly at first, you swirl your tongue shakily over the tip of his cock, the shared sensations making him moan.

"You're doing so well," he pants, stroking your hair with a not-quite-steady hand.

You can tell that he's just as close as you are, swelling inside you and on your tongue, and you want him to come with you, properly this time. The noise he makes as you take him into your throat is a shattered thing, he's barely holding on and his eyes are black and that finally makes the tension inside you snap with a strength that wracks your entire body. When you swallow it's more on reflex than anything else but it's enough to push him over the edge right along with you, pulsing down your throat and in your cunt with a sound that isn't exactly human, either.

As you come down from your high everything is a bit of a blur, every part of your body is aching as the tension finally drains out of you. The only thing you have energy for is collapsing on the bed in an ungraceful heap. He wastes no time pulling you to him though, chest heaving for breath you know he doesn't strictly need. When you start shivering, he conjures a blanket to cover you, holds you close. He's never been a selfish lover but the tenderness of the gesture still makes your heart constrict in something like pain, knowing he might not be there for your next birthday. You've always known what he is so you try not to mourn prematurely, covering your worry with humour instead.

"Dream?"

"Yes, my love?" He kisses the top of your head softly, content for now.

"Do Endless have birthdays?"

[lab1rynth]

YAN!SOLDIER

Yan!Soldier whom you met in the field hospital, he had been shot in the arm, you had been put in charge of taking out the bullet and bandaging him up, then sending him back out onto the field. The man was quite charming, he told you about his position on the field, asked you about yourself, and shamelessly flirted a little bit.

Yan!Soldier who left after a few days, going back onto the field to fight. It was only around a month later until he came back to get medical attention, another bullet wound. You hadn't remembered him until you heard his voice, you joked around with him as you removed the bullet, 'you're getting hurt just to come see me, huh, big guy?' He chuckled, then hissed as you pulled out the bullet, 'hah, you'd like that, wouldn't you, Sweetcheeks?'

Yan!Soldier who continues to tell you about his life at home, how he left home after finishing high school and how he's been in the military for the past five years. The next few days he just lays back and accepts the food and company, 'the only thing we have to eat on the fronts is hard bread and water' he tells you as he stuffs his face full of the mashed potatoes and ham you've supplied him.

Yan!Soldier who thanks you immensely for giving him a clean undershirt, cleaned of blood and mud. He gets up to get dressed, putting it under his camouflage jacket, putting on his muddy boots as he gets ready to leave the facility, he gives you a friendly kiss on your cheek and a hug before waving you goodbye.

Yan!Soldier who cant get his mind off the feeling of your skin against of his hand, the way you cared for him. He hasn't felt that cared for ever since he joined the military, it got to his head. He needed your touch again, he needed your voice. He played with his pocket knife, flicking it around as he laid in his uncomfortable bed, thinking of what to do with these feelings.

Yan!Soldier who purposely gets shot the next day just to see you again, giving you a soft smile when he meets you again. You laugh and shake your head, how has this man gone 5 years without dying. You help him anyways, that's what your here for! You notice he's a lot more touchy than normal. When you whack his hand and tell him to stop moving as you dig for the bullet with your tools, he whined but it quickly turned into a sound of pain when you wiggled the bullet out from under his skin.

Yan!Soldier who continues coming in every few days with a new injury, staying for a day or two and talking to you, before leaving. You swear he should be discharged if he's getting hurt so much, but you digress.

Yan!Soldier who keeps asking stuff about you, personal things that no doctor should tell their patients, yet you told him anyways. You both had grown quite close, beyond that doctor/patient relationship. Of course the soldier thought of you as more than you thought of him, yet he still enjoyed being different then most of your patients.

Yan!Soldier who had resorted to shooting and cutting himself just to see you, he was desperate but he wouldn't admit to it. He didn't care about the pain anymore, at this point his skin was filled with scars of wounds he'd inflicted just to see you again.

Yan!Soldier who tells his fellow soldiers about you anytime there is downtime, he just sits and stares into the distance as he talks about you, a smile on his face. The person next to him nudged his shoulder and laughed, teasing him about his little 'crush', resulting in him pinning them to the wall and holding his pocketknife to their neck, spewing threats. He had to be torn off of them, still yelling as he was dragged away from them.

Yan!Soldier who is back the next day, but not with any injuries, you give him a once over and raise your eyebrow in confusion, 'what are you doing here?' you ask him, he doesn't respond. Instead he takes a step forward and grabs you by your shirt, you almost start to try and call for help but your muffled by him kissing you. It ended as quickly as it started, 'I almost killed a guy yesterday for you,' he stated, 'wha-,' He had cut you off with another kiss before he pulled back once more, putting his hands in his pockets and turning around, walking away, 'You're mine' He told you as he walked.

[lewmagoo]

I think about cooking for Rhett often. We all saw how stiff Ceceila's mashed potatoes were and I know that beef was well done.

I don't think Rhett is picky, he just hasn't been exposed to many things cuisine wise. Like he didn't realize you could just make pasta sauce from scratch but once he tries yours, it's all he wants from them on.

He loves holding your hand as you walk him through your garden, explaining each plant you're growing and what you use them for. He loves being your taste tester and after some time, starts acting as your sous chef, cutting up the veggies you've grown!

I just want him to eat a good, home cooked meal and feel loved 🥺🥺🥺

he always thought his momma’s cooking was fine. he really didn’t know anything different, and she always said “eat what’s put forth ya” so he’d eat his food without complaining. he’s used to over cooked meat and veggies, and doesn’t really think twice about it, because it’s food and it beats going to bed hungry. and then he’s introduced to your cooking and everything changes. you put love into everything you make. it’s clear that you enjoy cooking and you’re more than happy to cook for him as a way of expressing your love for him. when you start making him meals regularly, he’s floored by how good everything is. sauces and gravies with such depth of flavor. the smoothest, creamiest mashed potatoes he’s ever had. he thoroughly enjoys everything you make.

and then you start including him in your meal preparations. asking if he wants to help, teaching him how to cut properly (the first time he used a chef’s knife was quite the sight lol), showing him how to follow a recipe. things he never learned because cecilia never taught him how to do anything in the kitchen besides setting the table, and royal was always pulling him away to do chores as it was. no one took the time to let rhett learn kitchen work. and that’s where you come along. he finds that he enjoys the meals you cook together even more. it’s a good way to bond.

he gains some healthy weight after you’ve been feeding him for a while. he isn’t nearly as gaunt as he used to be. and he’s much healthier. less gas station food, which he’d snack on in the middle of the day when he was hit with intense hunger because he didn’t eat enough carbs and protein for breakfast. instead he’s eating three balanced meals a day. you’re packing him well rounded lunches for work so he doesn’t have to settle for a quick bag of chips or a honey bun. and you always leave him a sweet note in his lunch box. rhett never knew that food could be such a special thing. instead of seeing it as merely something to get him through the day, he comes to realize that it can be so much more than that. and it’s just one of the many things you use to show him that you care about him.

[sunrise-imagines]

I know this is a sad one, but could you write about the reader and Finn in their twenties, and they've been in a relationship for a long time. And as Jake is getting older, He knows that he's not gonna be there for finn. jake also knows that his death would be pretty hard on finn, so he pulls the reader aside on one of their adventures and asked her to always watch over fin when he is gone.

Asyrshhfv this is so sad but I love it! I’m trying to get out of my comfort zone with formatting so this will be written like a more traditional imagine instead of my usual bulleted style. Hope you like it!

TW: Mention of death, angst and comfort

Finn Mertens x Reader Jake’s Request

The three of you were walking through a dense forest. Princess Bubblegum had tasked you with hunting down a large beast that had been terrorizing villages around the area, and with Jake sense of smell you were able to follow it’s path through the woods.

Though in the past Jake would become big and simply carry you guys above the brush, using his powers started to take more of a toll on his body as he got older, so now he started limiting large amounts of stretching to combat only.

Finn sighs, “We’ve been walking for a while now. I think we should set up camp for the night and rest up.”

Jake tries to protest, “Nah man I’m good! We gotta follow the trail while it’s still ho-“ He’s cut off by a fit of coughs, concerning you and Finn, who goes over to put a hand on his brother’s back.

Once the coughing subsides, Jakes sighs and admits, “Yeah, you’re right. I could use a break.” He smiles at Finn, trying to reassure him, although Finn is clearly still worried.

You and Finn set up a campfire and a couple logs to sit on while Jake takes a minute to breathe.

“Hey Finn, why don’t you go get some more fire wood while Y/N and I start on dinner?” Jake suggests out of the blue. Finn gives him another worried look, about to protest, but Jake motions for him to go and he relents, leaving the two of you alone by the fire.

Rummaging through Finn’s pack, he hands you a small knife and some veggies in a bag, “Cut these up for me, will ya?” You nod and get to work, sitting in silence for a few minutes.

Jake awkwardly clears his throat, trying to lighten the mood a little, “So uh, how’s living together been for ya?” He asks while he pours some canned soup into the pot.

You look up from your task of peeling potatoes, “O-Oh, it’s been good! To be honest I was a little nervous at first, but now that we’ve decorated and stuff the house really feels like our own, you know?”

Jake laughs, “Yeah I get it. I felt the same way movin’ in with Lady. I really missed the treehouse for a while but after that it was like I couldn’t imagine livin’ anywhere else.” He reaches into Finn’s bag and adds some spices he brought to the mix, stirring it around with a wooden spoon.

“I’m also glad I don’t have to hear you guys gettin’ it on anymore.” You feel the wind get knocked out of you at his words, gasping for air as Jake laughs at your expense. Warmth spreads across your cheeks as you avoid his gaze.

“You’re really good for him, you know? Like, I’ve seen him date tons of different people, but you’re the only one that he’s ever been like, REALLY happy with. Usually Finn keeps a little distance from people, even from me sometimes, but it seems like he trusts you.” Jakes muses as he brings out a few bowls, pouring some soup in before handing one to you. You thank him and blow on the hot liquid, bringing a spoonful to your lips and savoring the hearty flavor.

As you look up you notice the solemn expression on Jake’s face, stirring his bowl of soup absentmindedly. “What’s wrong?” You ask.

He sighs before he starts to explain, “So…remember when I went to see Doctor Princess a few weeks ago? And I said I was just going cause my stomach hurt?”

You nod, putting down your bowl to listen more intently.

Jake scratches the back of his head as he continues, “Well, it turns out it was a little more serious than that. Like a lot more serious than that. I’m still doing okay for now, but from what she told me, I don’t think I’m gonna get better this time.”

Your eyes widen as you take in what Jake just said to you. Since you were a kid, he had always been a constant in your life, looking out for you and Finn no matter what. You couldn’t imagine life without him, but now you were faced with the very real situation that he wouldn’t be around anymore. “Jake, I…oh my Glob.” You struggle for words as you try to rationalize your scrambled thoughts.

Jake stretches his hand and puts it on your shoulder, “Listen, I know it’s a lot, and I don’t mean to make you sad, but…I wanted to ask you a favor.”

You nod and take his paw, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, “Anything.”

Jake continues, “When I’m gone…promise to look after Finn for me, okay? I love him, but…he can be real stubborn n’ stupid. Whatever happens, make sure he doesn’t end up beating himself up.” His voice wavers a bit towards the end, and it’s clear just how much he cares for his brother.

You smile at him sadly, simply replying with, “Of course.”

Jake smiles back, “Thanks kiddo. There isn’t anyone I’d rather ask.” He balls up his fist, and you bump it with your own. In a sudden motion, you jump up from your seat, running over and hugging him tightly.

Jake flinches in surprise, but after a second closes his eyes and hugs you back. In this moment, he feels peace in knowing that you and Finn have each other, and that even when he’s gone, you both will be okay.

-

AN: WE’RE SO BACK Y’ALL. I started this fic a while ago and finally got the inspiration to finish it. I hope you enjoy!

[dreaming-medium]

Animals Without Direction

Chapter One - Thrice The Amount

Next Chapter

Masterlist

“No.” Your voice was stern, your eyes didn’t even look up from the plate in front of you. A hefty helping of roasted potatoes being pushed around by the metal fork in your hand.

“I am offering you a hefty sum of gold.” the man’s voice pleaded with you.

He was leaning over the table in an attempt to keep the volume of the conversation between the two of you down. 

The tavern was lively, but not as lively as it could be. A bard continued to play his lute across the room in front of a massive hearth. The fire roared and spread heat through the room, warding off the chill of the late autumn air. Several patrons were sitting at the bar and various tables, either lost in conversations or the food in front of them. 

Your small table was tucked in the corner, away from the bustle of the normal crowd. It’s not that you preferred the quiet, no, there were nights where you would be leading the drinking songs. But tonight, you just wanted to eat in peace.

An hour before you arrived at the tavern, you had just finished a job that had promised more gold than it delivered. 

The life of a mercenary was not as glorious as your child self thought it was. It wasn’t slaying dragons and protecting royalty from assassins; quite the opposite, it was just another way to say ‘glorified messenger’. Bringing packages from one hold in the land to another, staying awake through the night to discover why a farmer’s crops were disappearing.

It was usually a beggar. 

Poor sods were usually so hungry that you would turn a blind eye, find a wolf, kill it, and bring it to the farmer, claiming it to be the reason for the missing crops. This way the beggar wouldn’t have their thumbs cut off for stealing.

Not that you were any better than a beggar at this point. Money was tight. The gold you had in your pouch was enough to pay for your dinner and one more pint of ale. 

The only difference between you and the homeless on the cobblestone street was the sword on your hip.

“I am well aware of the amount you offer, but you must think me mad to go anywhere near Miroh.”

Miroh . Fellow mercenaries have left for jobs– simple ones– and have not returned.

And yet, this man in front of you has the gall to not only request that you go near the Hold’s borders, but to enter their walls. 

A stiff silence sits between the two of you. You bring your fork down and stab a potato, plopping it in your mouth and looking at the man for the first time since he sat across from you. 

Greasy, black hair sat on his head, hanging in front of his eyes. The man was wearing a noble's robe; but if you looked closer, you could see how worn the fabric was. Burn holes littered the sleeves and the hem near the ground was absolutely filthy. 

He looked to be about middle aged.

“Thrice the amount, then.”

You paused. 

Swallowing your mouthful of food, you placed your fork back on the table. Tonguing your cheek and shifting on your seat.

Individually, you cracked each knuckle on both hands, your mind reeling.

“Explain the job to me once more.”

The man let out a sigh of relief, you quickly held your hand up before he began.

“I am not yet agreeing, I want to hear more details prior to anything.”

He nodded, tensing up once more.

“I require your protection as I finalize a trading contract between my company and Miroh. We specialize in the exchange of foreign goods across the water.”

“We would be meeting with the Jarl directly?”

“Nay, he does not deal with petty things like trading contracts,” the man scoffs and sits back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “We would be meeting with someone in his court, Han Jisung. I have been discussing this deal with him via letters for months.”

“If you are only meeting on a predetermined agreement, why do you push for protection?” You ask, picking up your pint of honeyed ale, taking a long sip.

The man’s eyes looked to the side, setting off alarm bells in your mind. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.

“If I am to protect you, I will need to know all the details.”

He shifted on his chair, clearly uncomfortable, clearly hiding something. His tongue poked from his lips to wet them nervously.

“In the past, I may have…” he hesitated, “I may have skimmed from the top of their goods.”

One of your eyebrows raised, mug still in front of your face.

“But that was many years ago. Han Jisung spoke of mending these ties in his letters.” he explains, looking back to your eyes. “Our company is the best in the land. High quality goods for a fair price, they must have realized that in our absence. Miroh simply wishes to use our services once more.”

You place your now empty mug onto the table, looking down at the old wood.

There is no way this is going to go smoothly. Every sense of danger was ringing in your mind to reject this deal.

With the reputation Miroh has, they let a merchant skim their goods and are crawling back ?

Patrons of the tavern begin to sing, surrounding the bard. Your eyes shifted up to take in the happy sight, smiles on all of their faces, happy flushes on their skin from the alcohol buzzing through their veins. 

The lute’s strings sounded beautiful to your ears. Life here is alright, you are making it work. 

But the almost empty gold pouch at your hip seemed heavier than when it had gold inside it.

“Five times my normal amount.” You meet eyes with the man. His jaw clenched for a moment, considering your offer. He doesn’t seem pleased in the least bit.

But it seems he has no choice.

An entire verse of the bard’s song passed before he reached across the table, extending his hand.

You clasp hands with him.

“At first light we leave for Miroh.”

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

Gautier.

You learn his name three days into your journey; just as you are being led through the never ending hallways of Miroh’s keep. The stone walls seem… warmer than you expected of the Hold.

Even when you first crossed the border, it wasn’t fires and crying children like you had heard whispers of.

It seemed… better than where you had come from.

Where are all the miserable folk and wounded soldiers? Where are the bandits that supposedly run rampant in these parts?

When you are shown into a room, there are two men already waiting inside. One was much stockier than the other, his arm muscles on display due to the open nature of his heavy armor. Beautifully crafted gauntlets covered his forearms. A large battle axe strapped to his back, a neutral expression on his face.

The other man sat behind a desk, a sneaky looking smile already displayed across his round cheeks. He wore true noble robes made of various silks and expensive threads. 

His clothing made Gautier’s look like no more than a potato sack with arm and leg holes.

Both of their eyes flicker to you and Gautier as you cross the threshold. The larger man, clearly his protection, surveys you closely.

He has no doubt clocked every single weapon strapped to your body.

Perhaps save for the one silver dagger you keep tucked inside your boot.

You mirror his movements, scanning his entire body up and down. One battle axe and three throwing knives on his belt. When your eyes meet him again, there’s an imperceptible twitch to the corner of his mouth. 

“Guatier!” the smaller man exclaims, standing from his position behind the desk. 

“Jisung, it has been a long while, my friend.” Guatier’s entire demeanor changes. This fake mask slides over his face and he becomes a different person. It takes every fiber of your being not to roll your eyes.

Guatier walks up to Jisung and they shake hands over the desk. You remain by the door, arms crossed over your chest. 

“I see you have a new guard, Guatier.” Jisung motions over to you as he sits back down. Guatier does not even look back at you before waving him off.

“Do not mind her, she is only hired muscle.”

“Still, you know we cannot have outside ears hearing of our deals.” Jisung leans forward, his voice lowering a bit. 

Your eyebrow quirks, you finally break eye contact with Jisung’s body guard to look over at Guatier’s back. He doesn’t even turn to look at you.

A scoff comes out of his mouth. “She will not understand any of what we speak of. Her simple mind knows only battle, it is all she is good for. No complex thoughts to be found in that head.”

Typically, you choose to keep a stoic face no matter what, especially on the job. But, in this moment, you cannot control the anger that flicks across your features.

Oh, the slimy bastard…

Jisung’s eyes look back at you again, his brows furrowed for a split second. He watches your emotions change and the corner of his lips twitch into a half smile.

“Still,” he starts, his gaze stays on you for another moment before he looks back at Gautier, his look darkens for a moment. “Even fools can repeat words.”

Jisung meets your eyes once more. They linger, almost as if he’s looking right through your soul. His expression softens when he lays his eyes on you.

“Changbin,” Jisung says and the guard doesn’t even flinch, but his eyes shift down to the other man. “Please bring the ‘hired muscle’ out to another room so we may conduct our business.”

The guard, Changbin, nods once and walks towards you quickly. His heavy boots thud on the wooden floor with every step.

You look back at Guatier, who only now has decided to turn around in his chair to look at you. Horror and anxiety flashes across his face; but you cannot find it within yourself to feel any pity.

A strong hand grips your upper arm and you’re forcefully led out of the office.

“Now, why don’t we begin by discussing your pre-” the door closes before you can hear the rest of Jisung’s sentence to your ‘boss’.

Changbin’s grip on your arm doesn’t loosen as he leads you down the hall. The grip is borderline painful through the fabric.

Deciding not to say anything about it, you just clench your jaw and let him drag you further and further away from the man you were supposed to be protecting. 

Would it be the worst thing in the world if Guatier was killed, though?

Your mind pauses, weighing the options.

No, no it wouldn’t be.

Because he had given you half of the payment up front before you left for the journey. 

Still, your honor was on the line for this. 

It wasn’t until you rounded two more corners into a more open common area that Changbin’s grip loosened on your arm. You shook off his hold and glanced at his stern face one more before walking away from him.

Four other guards stood on either side of two separate door ways. All looking bored. 

“Do not venture.” he grumbles, it was the first time you heard his voice. 

“Interesting command given that you led me from my employer.”

Your eyes scan the room around you, it seems to be a library of sorts. Shelves line each wall with books and various items littered along them. 

“You work for his company?”

“Nay,” you scoff, “I do not wish to work for that slime. I am only a mercenary, Guatier hired my sword to get him here safely and insure he leaves with his head.”

Changbin only grunts in acknowledgment as you walk over to one of the shelves. Gently, you reach up and spin a glass bottle to turn the label, allowing yourself to see behind you through the reflection.

In the distorted glass, you can see Changbin’s eyes watching you carefully, both hands staying at his side. He’s studying your movements very carefully.

You look away from the reflection, tilting your head to scan over the various titles of books on the shelf. 

“Hm,” you hum, fingering at one of the books, “ Spider With Gold , I have not seen this book in many years…” you whisper wistfully.

There’s a shift behind you.

“You are able to read?”

You turn around to look at Changbin, who, for the first time, seems almost bashful. His hands twitched as his sides and he is only able to hold your eye contact for a moment before looking off to the side.

“Aye, scholars should not be the only ones able to read and document history.” you turn back to the bookshelf. “Do you not know how?”

Looking up in the reflection of the bottle, you see Changbin shift his weight from one boot to the other, his eyes boring holes into your back.

“Nay.” he says firmly, “Never learned how.”

“Shame.” you utter softly.

A long, stiff silence settles in the room. 

You learned to read at a very young age, your mother made sure to teach you the letters as soon as your brain was able to retain it.

‘The more you read, the more you will know. And the more you know will ensure that no one will outsmart you, my dear.’

Books took up most of the spare space you had in your traveling pack. Every once in a while, when you would get an interesting quest that went into bandit nests, you were able to find one or two new ones to add to your never ending collection. 

If you’re being truthful with yourself, it broke your heart that Changbin could not read, he could not enjoy the simple pleasure that reading could bring. Nor could he pick up on sword tricks written down through the centuries.

Just when it feels like the room could not get any quieter, a shrill scream bellows through the stone halls.

Your head snaps up to look in the reflection of the bottle just as a guard raises his sword behind you, intending to strike.

“Wait!” 

Everything in your body suddenly comes alive at the impending danger. Your weight shifts and you leap out of the way.

A loud crash is heard as the guard’s sword slices through the wooden shelves.

“Of course.” you mutter, quickly regaining your balance. 

Another soldier comes from your right, swinging his sword in an upwards strike, you dodge by spinning to the left. At the same time, your hand quickly unsheathes your sword.

Mid-spin, instincts take over and you raise your sword to clash with another guard’s. Both of your swords swing around in an arc to free them. Instead of completing the arc, you pull back and raise your boot to kick the guard right in the gut.

He lurches forward in pain and you, never missing an opportunity, bring your sword down and slice his head from his neck immediately. 

One down.

The first guard seems to have recovered, but only for a moment. He eyes watch as his friend is decapitated; his face drains of all color and eyes snap up to yours. 

A wicked smile crosses your face as you take advantage of his moment of weakness. Your sword plunges right through his gut, his mouth immediately coughing up a sick amount of blood.

Quickly, you pull your sword back. There’s a small sense of danger ringing in the back of your mind, so you jump away from where you were standing right before a sword splits the air.

Changbin, flanked by the two remaining guards, is staring at you with a curious look in his eyes. Just by studying his face, you can practically see his mind racing with numerous thoughts.

Why does he look so torn?

His battle ax is clasped firmly in his large hands, knees bent in a perfect battle stance. 

With your feet firmly planted on the floor, you take a brief moment to size the three of them up. The guard to Changbin’s right leaps at you first, his sword swinging wildly in short, choppy arcs. Untrained technique, a definite beginner.

You almost feel bad for a split second, poor thing probably never expected this.

Nevertheless, it’s kill or be killed at this moment, and it’s only a matter of time before more guards start flooding into the room. 

You raise your sword to block one of the strikes. The sound of metal hitting metal is ear piercing. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the last guard. reaching back for a powerful strike.

Thinking quickly, you grab the younger guard's arm, yanking him towards you and into the trajectory path of the second guard’s sword, stepping out of danger.

The second guard slices into his comrade by accident, both of them letting out shrill screams.

Before the second guard could recover from his accidental killing, you swing your sword in a massive arc and instantly kill him.

Both bodies drop to the ground in a heap.

Without giving yourself time to breathe, you turn around sharply to look at Changbin, who hasn’t moved a single muscle in the last minute. He stood there, wide-eyed, watching as you massacred his fellow soldiers and did absolutely nothing about it. 

The two of you make eye contact for a long moment.

Your chest heaving with heavy pants from the exertion, hand tightening around the handle of your sword. 

There is only a split second to think about your next move. Maybe even less.

Fear and adrenaline are coursing through your veins. 

Why isn’t he attacking you? Why is he just standing there?

Your mouth felt like someone had stuffed cotton into it, sweat dripped down your back.

Changbin’s foot shifted on the floor and you quickly made your decision.

You turned around and ran .

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

“ Hey! ” you heard Changbin scream behind you as you rounded the corner out of the room. 

Which way did you come from? Which way was the way out? Once you get out of the keep, you should be fine.

Your light leather boots made soft thuds on the floor as you sprinted through the stone maze. Sheathing your sword in the process, your eyes wildly scan around for anything familiar. 

Changbin’s voice could be heard every few seconds as he chased you through the keep. 

To The Void with Guatier, you needed to get out of here. You knew you shouldn’t have taken this job. You just knew it. 

When you round one corner, you smack directly into someone, but your momentum knocks them over, your steady balance keeping you on your feet. 

The guard stumbles to the ground with a yelp, looking up at you with an extremely startled expression.

“Jeongin!” Changbin yells off in the distance, “Grab her!”

Jeongin snaps his head in the direction of Changbin’s voice, then back up at you. You don’t stick around to see his next move, your legs already carrying you far away from the guard on the ground. 

It’s close, the entrance is close, you vaguely remember these hallways. It has to be close. 

Once you’re out of the keep, you’ll run and never look back. You will never enter Miroh again, you won’t even come within fifty leagues of the Hold.

A solid hand gripped the back of your light armor, fingers pulling on the leather straps. 

With a yelp, you’re yanked backwards and thrown onto the floor. Your head collides with the stone floor with a solid crack .

Pain blossoms from the impact and your vision blacks out for a split moment. 

The adrenaline coursing through you keeps you from passing out, you quickly shake your head to clear the confusion.

Jeongin is standing over you with an almost apologetic look. He looks up behind you, then back down at you.

“Do not just stand there! Grab her, bind her hands!” Changbin commands, his voice closer than before.

Panic seizes your body and as Jeongin reaches for you, you kick your foot out on the ground right into his gut. 

A loud, pained exhale is shoved from his lungs and he doubles forward, clutching the area you just kicked. 

“If you would just-” Jeongin wheezes out in between pained breaths.

You don’t listen, you clamber to your feet. The back of your head throbbing worse and worse with each passing second.

Just as you’re about to take off down the hall again, a strong hand grabs your wrist and turns your arm, trapping it behind your back.

You’re roughly shoved against the cobblestone wall, one arm pinned behind you.

Hot, deep pants are felt on the back of your neck, you notice the hand holding your wrist is clammy.

“By The Six, woman,” Changbin breathes out, mouth close to the back of your neck.

You struggle for a moment, trying desperately to break his hold on you. Changbin only tightens his grip.

“Jeongin,” he practically growls, the guard grunts in response, still cradling his gut in pain. “Fetch me some rope, make it quick.”

Jeongin grunts again and limps off.

Changbin leans down closer, lips right next to your ear.

The heat coming from his body is insane, it feels like his entire front is pressed against your back to keep you against the wall.

Not that you have any fight left in your body, the adrenaline is wearing off and the pain from your skull is getting worse by the second. Each beat of your heart shoots a splinter of pain through your skull.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Changbin basically growls, his breath brushing against your ear.

“If you are to kill me, do it already. Why extend my torture?” You close your eyes, letting your face rest on the wall. When did your fingertips go numb?

“Kill you?” Changbin lets out a chuckle behind you. “And waste a sword arm like yours? Nay, I believe we may have better use for you.”

The world was fading fast, towards the end of his sentence, it sounded like his voice was three rooms away. 

“Sir, I have the rope.” Jeongin’s voice was the last you heard before your body collapsed.

[mixelation]

oh my god stop posting about minato

👀👀👀

fine here’s whatever else i have of asynchronicity

Minato grimaced as he climbed out of the tub. So. Tori did not care about him killing people and maybe was… into that��? But she did physically flee from him at the idea of talking about their feelings.

He probably should have expected that. Oh well. They could work on it.

Tori had left an extremely ugly sweater on the floor by the sink, but she’d also at some point pulled a couple yukata and towels and left them on the sink counter. The yukata were both a little too small on him, but he pulled one on anyway. He could go home and grab something in less than a minute, but he also liked Tori doing things for him.

His joints all felt sore as he walked. The main area of the house had an open kitchen and living area, he found Tori cutting up potatoes. They’d all sprouted, and she was frowning to herself as she cut around the sprouts. The way she held her knife was remarkably civilian, and Minato paused to watch her for a few moments.

She blushed when she realized he was watching her, and then in true Tori fashion, started babbling about different ways potatoes could poison you.

Cute, Minato thought, and then went and collapsed on the couch. He fell into a light sleep almost immediately, listening to Tori chop away.

He woke again to Tori offering him a bowl of soup.

“I’m not a great cook,” she warned him, and then offered up a thing of chili flakes. “I usually try to cover up my sins.”

The soup was a truly random assembly of things, but Minato didn’t mind. Tori had been working with whatever was on hand, and chakra exhaustion was treated with rest and nutritionally dense foods. Potatoes and tinned tuna weren’t something he’d normally mix, but they were both good for the occasion. He turned down the chili flakes; he didn’t really like spicy things anyway.

Plus, Tori had cooked for him. For him!

“I have some NSAIDs if you want them,” Tori said after a while. “Sorry I didn’t think to offer them earlier.”

“I think I’m okay,” Minato said after a few moments of consideration. Pain like this was a reminder not to push himself.

“What’s the plan next?” Tori asked.

Minato mulled this over. He did not have orders for what to do next, because he’d dropped the dead Iwa commander off at his current assigned camp, very briefly said he’d confirmed the whole camp was dead, including twenty-six additional Iwa-nin he found in the surrounding area, and then just left.

In hindsight, he should have realized he’d done something really major. He hadn’t technically disobeyed orders, but also he’d done a bunch of things and killed a lot of people without orders and then immediately disappeared into the ether. That was probably technically abandoning his post or something.

“I should… go talk to Konoha base camp,” he said slowly.

“Uh huh,” Tori said, and then looked like she was fighting back a laugh. “Do you think they know?”

“Uh, well…”

Minato briefly went over what had happened the previous night, for context. He was currently assigned to a Konoha base camp near the Grass border. He was surveying ahead of a team from Konoha proper that had been sent up to negotiate with Iwa for prisoner release. He’d then run into the prisoners and escorted them back to base. Upon questioning, it had become blatantly obvious to Minato that Tori had been with them, and that she’d been left behind.

“So I just left without an explanation,” he said. “I didn’t really think about it. I was hoping you were just in the woods somewhere, and I’d be back in an hour.”

Tori, sitting cross legged on the couch next to him, shifted uncomfortably. Her gaze fell to the now empty soup bowl in her lap.

“But you weren’t,” he said, “so I went to get you.”

“I…” Tori started, running a finger around the rim of the bowl. “I like… that… you came for me.”

Her face was red. She squirmed uncomfortably. This was Tori telling him something very difficult and emotionally vulnerable, something she’d never say to another human being. He wanted to pull her into another kiss and promise her he would make a world world where she’d never be abandoned again.

That might be too intense, though. Instead he set his bowl aside, and then gently lifted hers out of her hands to also set aside.

“Thank you,” she said, clearly not talking about the soup bowl. “I was… really happy.”

Minato reached forward, running his hand through her hair. It was still damp, just now starting to curl up again, and it smelled pretty. He thought about how good her hands in his hair had felt. He wanted her to feel good too.

She let him pull her into his arms and rested her cheek against his chest while he reclined.

“So will you get in trouble?” she asked, the slightest hint of worry in her voice.

“I have no idea,” he answered, fiddling with her hair. “Probably.”

“You’re awful blaisé about it,” Tori observed, skeptical.

“I did report in last night and say I killed everyone,” Minato said. “The commander seemed shocked, but not angry.”

Tori sat up slightly, frowning at him. “You were gone for like ten minutes, tops. Did you even give him time to react?”

“Not really,” Minato admitted. “But I go off alone all the time and never get more than a slap on the wrist. The worst they’ll do is fine me. I’m too valuable to demote or put on probation.”

“You are worse than I thought you were,” Tori said, tone affectionate, and she pressed her face against him again.

“It’s not like they’ll be mad the Iwa camp is gone,” Minato defended. “Just… surprised.”

Tori let out a short, ironic laugh.

“Probably they’ve already sent someone to investigate,” Minato guessed. “Unless they didn’t believe me. I didn’t realize how insane my report that I’d killed everyone was at the time.”

Tori laughed again.

Minato still wasn’t sure how he felt. At the time, he’d just wanted to make sure the girl he liked was safe, and given he’d had no idea where she was, there was no way to guarantee that while enemies were still alive in the camp.

Probably he would have backed off if he’d found her. But she’d been in the commander’s tent, which was the most well-guarded place. It’d been the last place he’d gone.

A thousand people was a lot, though. He wasn’t even sure he’d ever seen that many ninja gathered at once outside of Konoha. Did he care…?

No, they’d been in his way, threatening someone special to him. He didn’t feel an ounce of guilt.

“They’ll want to talk to me for a long time either way,” Minato predicted. He held up a lock of Tori’s hair and then watched the strains slip through his fingers.

“Come with me?” he asked. When Tori didn’t reply for a while, he traced a line down her spine. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone touch you.”

That got her. Tori shifted on him, her hand balling into a fist in his yukata. He felt a smug smirk spread across his face. So this is what got her off…?

“I can think of some things Konoha-nin could do without touching me,” Tori said eventually.

Minato traced a line back up her spine.

“True,” he agreed. “But can they do those things faster than I could stop them?”

Tori hummed happily.

Minato would not kill or seriously injure a fellow Konoha-nin. But certainly he could intervene in any number of ways.

“We could get a healer to look at you,” he said.

“What, you don’t want me with a cool face scar?” Tori replied, but then immediately admitted she’d like that.

“We can go after I take another nap,” Minato decided. Afterall, what difference would it make if he fucked around for another few hours?

xXx

Everyone at the base camp was severely freaked out. For some reason, this surprised Minato.

“Yo!” he greeted the chunin at mission check-in with a friendly wave. The woman, who’d run multiple missions with Minato, looked up at him with evident fear. She stuttered while she checked him in.

“And, um, w-who’s this?” she asked, waving nervously at Tori. She would not meet Minato’s eyes.

“That’s… Tori,” Minato said lamely. “She’s… well, the commander will know who she is.”

Tori was a known player to Konoha. He did not think most random ninja would know about her, but he hadn’t been keeping the amount of time he spent with her a secret, and he’d actively mooned over her to both Jiraiya and Kushina. It was… it was known. If you’d read Minato’s file, you knew about her.

[yourtypicalslvt]

Could you do a Fermin smut when he punishes the reader for being a brat? 💘

Brat

Fermin Lopez x fem!reader

Summary:Request says it all

Word count:2.2k

-Warnings Dom!Fermin, Sub!reader Fingering, Stimulation, orgasm denial, p in v, spanish , use of Papi in a sexual way, crying, Aftercare!! Just pure filth.

A/N- This honestly took me like at least a week to make idk why. Also first time writting smut in years😭

To say the least fermin was pissed. He is pissed because you've been acting like a brat all morning. Not doing the simplest things he's asked you , even was as far to give him attitude when he was leaving for training like telling him to stay with you, that you could entertain him in a different ways and when he told you no, that he couldn't miss training because if he did xavi would probably leave him out next game. After he explained why he couldn't stay you started whining.

Fermin was done with your bullshit at that point so he bent down (since you were a couple inches shorter than him) and whispered in your ear "sigue comportándote así y luego te arrepentirás" and just left.(keep behaving like that and you'll regret it.)

That small comment had you weak, but even if you were weak you still weren't done being a brat. So while he was at practice you decided to shower put on some light makeup on and a lingerie dress that made your tits look perkier and barely covered your bottom (x).

It's been almost two hours since fermin had left and that meant he could get here anytime soon so you started cooking up dinner. Peeling and cutting some potatoes and cooking your meat. Halfway cooking you heard the front door open and you obviously knew it was Fermin.

“Hi amor Ya llegue” was the first thing fermin said when walking into the kitchen, checking your outfit out. (Love, i'm here.)

“Lo sé, literal mente estás aquí conmigo, genio” you said with an eye roll which he did not appreciate it since he landed a hard smack on your ass making you squeal in pain. (I know, you're literally here with me, genius)

"No se quien te crees pero a mi no hables así, me entiendes? Yo no soy tu amigo o hermano pa' que me hables así". (I don't know who you think you are but don't talk like that to me, do you understand me? I am not your friend or brother so that you talk to me like that)

"Claro, lo que dices" you scoff continuing with your cooking. Fermin was still upset with you, he grabbed your arm hard and whispered into your ear. (clear whatever you say)

"Me voy a ir a duchar, deja la comida ahi y te espero en la cama , que ya me canse de tus tonterias, te has portada como una mocosa y necesitas un castigo, no crees"? His eyes are dark, and you can tell he's not playing around, and you know that if you disobey him you'll get a bigger punishment. ('m going to take a shower, leave the food there and I'll wait for you in bed, I'm tired of your nonsense, you've behaved like a brat and you need a punishment, don't you think")

"Yes sir" you ended up saying, turning off the stove and heading into the bedroom while Fermin made his way to the bathroom.

"Ohhh my g-god" You moan out while Fermin was pumping his fingers in and out of you. "No bebe dios no es el que te hace sentir tan bien" You weren't even paying attention to whatever he was saying, the pleasure his fingers are giving you bring you closer to your orgasm. Fermin knew your body very well so he knew when your getting close. (No baby, god isn’t the one making you feel good)

You whine out when he took his fingers out of your dripping pussy for the first time. You were desperate you wanted to cum but you knew this would happen if you acted like a brat.

“Papi por favor, déjame correr estoy desesperada” you cried out when he plunges his fingers back into you.(daddy please let me cum, im desperate)

“Mi vida, tu no eras una buena chica hoy, no creo que to lo mereces” you were sobbing at this point and he hasn’t even put his cock into you, just his fingers.

“Por favor, perdóname por no ser una buena chica, te prometo que nunca mas voy a actuar de esta manera, solo por favor te suplico que me folles, por favor papi , por favor” you were close to your orgasm but you knew he wasn’t going to let you cum on his fingers. (Please forgive me for not being a good girl, I promise I'll never act this way again, just please I'm begging you to fuck me please daddy please.)

“Mira a mi preciosa bebe arruinada por solo mis dedos y suplicando que te folle, hm tal vez lo haga solo por que te vez muy preciosa suplicándome” (Look at my beautiful babe ruined by just my fingers and begging me to fuck you, hm maybe I will it just because you look so beautiful begging me)

After what it felt like eternities, Fermin finally pulled his sweatpants and boxers off. You were excited to say the Least. But you didn’t expect for him to pick you up and out you in your knees, mouth facing his erect cock inches from it. “Realmente no pensaste que te follaría así tan rápido sin que me la mamaran, ¿verdad?" He said in a low raspy voice. You shook your head at the question but you both knew you were lying as you really Expected him to fuck you right there and then. You didn't even noticed you zoned off until you felt him pushed his cock into your mouth, face fucking you. (You really didn't think I'd fuck you like that so fast without getting blown off, did you?)

"Dios mio..ugh tu boca es como una cueva para mi polla (omg your mouth is like a cave for my dick")

You look up to Fermin tears in your eyes. "Mi pobre bebe toda triste por que no te folle"? His words making you moan on his cock. Your eyes were teary, pussy aching and nipples hard. (My poor baby, all sad because I didn't fuck you?)

"Joder amor voy a correr.. ugh donde quieres que te lo choree eh? Tu boca o tu cara" He asked you, but being unable to answer him with his cock in your mouth. "Mierda no me importa lo hago en tu boca" At this point you weren't even sucking him him, he was just fucking his cock into your mouth. (Fuck love imma cum.. where do you want me to squirt it? Your mouth or face? Shit I dont care Im doing your mouth.)

Seconds later Fermins liquid was squirted into your mouth. "J-joderrrrr" He said dragging the "r". (fuck)

"ng..mhm" That's what's echoing in the walls of yours and Fermin's bedroom. Echos of your moans and whimpers, bed frame hitting the wall repeatedly loud enough for your neighbors to hear.

Fermin's cock pounding into you from the back filling you up just enough giving your ass some spanks from time to time. You guys have been going at it for hours. Practice ending 4 hours ago at 5 which makes it 9 now.

"vamos mi vida yo se que tienes otro dentro de ti vamos corazón" He whispered referring to you giving him another orgasm after giving him 4 already.(come on, my love, I know you have another inside of you, come on, sweetheart")

The wetness of you dripping pussy was heard. Your loud moans and screams. Fermins dirty talk bringing you close to your orgasm.

"Fermin e-estoy muy cerca p-por favor déjame correr please" You were able to sob out since your face was pushed into the mattress while you ass was up.(Fermin I'm very close please let me cum please")

"Aguantate nena" He whispered. (hold it baby)

"No p-puedo por favor Fermín dejame correr" you cried (I can't please Fermín let me cum)

"No, no vas a , uh, correr todavía" He whispered once again but you couldn't hold it any longer so you just let it all out with a loud moan. That made Fermin mad since he slapped our ass hard making you cry out in pain. (No, you're not gonna cum yet)

"Yo te dije que aguantaras no"? he asked and you nodded your head.(I told you to hold on, no)

"Entonces por que no entiendes"? (So why don't you understand)

"Lo siento, no pude contenerlo, lo intenté pero no pude" You said sobbing (I'm sorry I couldn't contain it, I tried but I couldn't)

"A mi no me importa, ponte en tu espalda que no a terminado contigo" (I don't care, get on your back, I'm not done with you)

You being the brat you are you disobeyed his request and he wasnt having any of it. So of course he got mad so he grabbed your waist and flipped you over and rammed his cock into you at full force.

"Todavía no sé cuántas veces tengo que hacer que te corras para que dejes de comportarte como una mocosa” You could feel the tip of cock hitting your cervix at full force bringing you closer to your orgasm. Dirty words were heard around the room, the cries and moans of you begging him go let you cum. (I still don't know how many times I have to make you cum before you stop acting like a brat)

Fermin cock wasn’t big big but it had girth, a girth that stretches your pussy good enough even though it can hurt it still gives you pleasure.

“Ugh e-estoy muy cerca p-por favor , Mhm-uhn” you whimper out as he slowed his movements down. The way his cock stretched you was making you see stars. Eyes rolling back when it hit that spot. (im so close please)

“No sé si debería dejar que te corras todavía” he whispered giving you hard but slow thrusts. (I don't know if I should let you cum yet")

"P-por favor papi por favor” you cried out while your left hand went down to rub your clit and your right to play with your nipple. (Please daddy, Please)

Fermin clearly didn’t like that since he slapped your hands away.

“No no no nena, es mi trabajo hacer eso, no tu, entiendes"? He grunted while his left hand rubs your clit fast. The pleasure of his cock repeatedly hitting your cervix and his fingers rubbing your clit was enough to bring you on edge. (No no no baby, it's my job to do that, not you, you understand)

"Dios dios amor por favor estoy muy cerca" You yelled out feeling your orgasm on the verge of cumming out. (My God, love please I'm very close)

"córrete para mí amor, sé que puedes venir bebé" He encourage you and with a loud moan your juice started squirting out. Fermin pulled out of you while your juices were wetting the sheets, he slapped your pussy a couple of times making more of your juices squirt out. The more Fermin slaps your pussy the more sensitive you become since hes repeatedly slapping your sensitive clit. (Cum for me my love, I know you can baby)

"Por favor, deja de golpear mi clítoris, soy muy sensible, por favor." You managed to squeal out with all the sensitivity on your pussy. Not even begging stopped him from giving your pussy more slaps. After like two minutes he finally stopped slapping it but you were sobbing now. (Please stop hitting my clit, I'm very sensitive please)

"shsh shsh mi vida lo se lose pero tu te merecias este castigo y tu sabes eso" He said while calming (trying to) you down. Since you were uncontrollably sobbing he decided to get you to sit on your butt (by the clean side of the ofc) and go inside the bathroom. (shsh shsh, my life I know but you deserved this punishment and you know that)

"Quédate por favor no te vallas" you once again sobbed out. Fermin's face dropped when he heard you say that and he honestly felt bad for the whole thing. (Stay. please don't leave)

"No corazon, no me voy a ir , solo voy a prepararte un baño ok mi vida"? He said calmly while kissing your head and heading to the bathroom.After Fermin was done with the bath he went back into the bedroom , picked you in and brought you the bath but before putting you in it he made sure to grab a cloth and clean your the inside of your folds. After that you both got into the bath cuddling a bit. (No sweetheart, I'm not going to leave, I'm just going to prepare a bath for you, ok my life)

"Lo siento por ser una mocosa hoy" You whispered feeling a bit sleepy making Fermin smile. (I'm sorry for being a brat today)

"Está bien amor, pero ya sabes para la próxima lo que pasará" He whispered back getting both of you out of the bath and into the bedroom. You both got changed into your pj's, changed the bed sheets and got into the bed. You guys cuddled and fell asleep but not before he whispered into your ear. (It's okay, love, but you know what will happen next time.)

"esta ha sido y será tu última vez siendo una mocosa" (this has been and will be your last time being a brat)

Safe to say this definitely wasn't the last time 😉.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Ghost!Robin Part 4

Here's your next part of the Ghost!Robin fic for WIP Wednesday. I'm gonna start putting fic designation in the title field rather than WIP Wednesday because I think it makes it easier to read.

Also, everyone came out in numbers for last week's segment! Damn! Thank you and I'm glad so many of you are enjoying this little fic of mine. We'll probably get one more week of this before I go back to Bring Me Home, but it'll depend what I feel like. I want to rework some of what I have written next.

First, Previous

1.1k words + a 464 word Omake (cut scene)

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Tim asked more details on the specs of the PDA which Danny happily answered. The things he built with Tucker were always his favorite inventions.

“So are you in school to become an engineer or something?” asked Dick who’d gotten Damian calmed down and sitting. The boy had gotten his knife back and was spinning it in his hands. Bruce seemed to be fondly exacerbated by the scene. Robin had pulled out a ghostly weapon and was trying to copy Damian’s movements, though he wasn’t quite as adept.

Danny shook his head to Dick’s question. “Nah. Hard to get into engineering school when you fail high school.” Danny narrowed his eyes as Damian’s mouth opened, but Dick whispered in his ear again and the boy didn’t say anything.

“I ended up dropping out of high school and getting a GED,” said Tim. “It can work just as well.”

Robin was nodding along and pointing at himself, too. Had he died before he could complete his schooling, too?

“I’m sure. It’s just not a priority for me right now. I don’t need one for my job and I can’t become an astronaut because of my accident when I was fourteen.”

Dick was nodding, but Tim looked confused and asked, “Fourteen? I thought you had your accident when you were older?”

“Why would you think that?” Had he or Jazz made any reference to when his accident was? “No, it happened when I was fourteen. A few weeks before I started my freshman year of high school.

Before Tim could ask anything else, Steph called out from the other side of the room. “Did you say you wanted to be an astronaut? Totally awesome. What made you pick that?”

“I honestly don’t know why everyone doesn’t want to be astronauts! Space is so cool. We can learn so much about the universe by studying it in closer detail. And with how many aliens are now living at least part time on Earth, it only makes sense to explore and see what else might be out there.”

Bruce nodded at him. “I am sorry you aren’t able to become one.”

Danny just waved a hand in the air. “I came to terms with it a long time ago. And my current job is fine. Might not be what I would’ve chosen, but I’ve made it work for me.” Deciding he should change the subject before someone had the brilliant idea to ask more about his accident or job, he asked, “So what is for dinner, anyway? You’ve all talked about how amazing the food is, but what are we having?”

Someone tried to speak up, but Jason held up a hand. “I’m the one who helped Alfie cook. Demon-brat is vegetarian so we have a vegetarian curry. If you like meat, there’s a prime rib roast. Then a half dozen different sides—vegetables, rice, potatoes. Huge salad with all the fixings and a dozen different dressings to choose from. And dessert after.”

“Damn, that sounds amazing. I haven’t had a good home cooked meal in ages, so I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“Has your Grandpa been keeping you that busy?” asked Jazz.

“That, but also getting things in order to take this evening off. There’s just been a lot. I’m spending the night at yours, by the way.”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

Danny knew he could rely on Jazz.

“Ooh, do you have any good stories about Jazz as a kid?” asked Jason.

Laughing, Danny said, “So many! But I don’t think we’ll be able to get to those tonight. I’ve a feeling you’ll be interested in other things by that point.” At his words, Robin grinned and pointed at himself. Danny gave him a slight nod to confirm that yes, they’d be talking about him.

Before Jason could ask for clarification, Alfred came in to announce dinner was ready.

Robin cheered and flew over to sit on Alfred’s shoulders, hand extended, to lead the way to the dinning room. Danny couldn’t hold back the chuckle and Jazz shot him a look which he ignored.

“There better be a place setting for you, Alfie!” called Jason as they followed.

“You made your opinion quite clear, Master Jason. And as I wish to meet your young lady and her brother as well, I have set myself a plate at the main table.”

Tim leaned over to whisper to Danny. “Alfred considers his role as butler very important. He rarely eats with the rest of us unless we join him in the kitchen.”

Danny nodded to show he understood, but had no idea how to actually reply to that. It seemed needlessly complicated.

Once they made it to the dining room, Danny grinned as Robin did a flip off of Alfred’s shoulders and landed sitting down on one of the place settings facing the associated chair. He bit his cheek to keep from laughing as Jason sat down at that same place. Jazz took a seat next to him and Danny sat to her other side. Dick ended up sitting next to him.

The scents of all the food wafting off the table made his mouth water and he closed his eyes just to breathe it in. “This smells amazing. Thanks Alfred. And Jason.”

Even Robin had moved to look over every dish, reaching out a hand to try and take something and sighing when he just phased through it.

Even Jazz looked a bit overwhelmed at the quantity of food. “This is so much effort. You didn’t have to do all this just for Danny and me.”

Bruce smiled at her. “It is so rare for all of us to be together for dinner so we make a spectacle of it any time it happens. And this is the first time Jason has ever brought anyone with him which makes it an even bigger event.”

Danny nudged her. “So, Jazz, what’s it like living with someone who can cook?”

Jason laughed. “Jazz isn’t allowed in the kitchen. You know, I caught her grabbing my chef’s knife before going into the fridge the other day!”

Danny furrowed his brow. “Of course she did. It’s a fridge.”

“Wait, is that a family trait? Why do you grab a knife to open the fridge? There’s gotta be a good story behind that.”

Before Danny could make the obvious statement regarding attacking food, Jazz elbowed him. “We’ll tell you later. It has to do with our parents and that’s a large topic and not one we should get into now.”

Before Danny could ask any questions about what the big deal was, Dick nudged him. “Which do you want—curry or beef?”

---------

Omake

Ignoring all of it, Danny shook his head and answered Dick. “Nah. Hard to get into college when you fail high school and are legally dead.”

Multiple people, including Jason, exclaimed at that statement and he looked to Jazz.

“Did Jazz not tell you about that? Our parents swear they saw my ghost and had me declared legally dead. I was missing at the time so the coroner agreed. Sighting the ghost of a missing person is all you need to confirm death in Amity.”

Under her breath, Jazz added, “You were only missing because they had you.”

Danny elbowed her and quietly chirped a Safe now.

Bruce was no longer smiling and was looking at Danny with narrowed eyes. “Your parents had you declared dead.”

“Yeah. It’s fine, though. I’ve an amazing doctor if I get into trouble. My grandfather is watching out for me. I’m financially stable. My partners are able to rent an apartment large enough for all three of us. I have other places to stay when I’m traveling. Honestly, it doesn’t impact my life all that much. Just means I’m not gonna go to college. And only reason I wanted to go to college was to be an astronaut, but my health makes that impossible.”

“Hn…” Bruce hummed.

And Danny had no idea what that meant, but Robin was now laughing, and Dick was exchanging grins with Tim, and Steph and Cass were whispering together. Damian was glaring at him even harder, blade hilt gripped in his hand. These people were strange.

Danny looked over at Jazz who shrugged. Jason was glaring at Bruce and said, “Don’t you dare.”

“Look, it’s really not a big deal. I know it’s kinda a messed up situation, but ghosts are generally treated really well in Amity. As well as any living human, at least. So long as you avoid the Guys in White and my parents that is. So outside of interactions with them, nothing has changed.”

“If you are ever in need of a place to stay or a meal or anything, you’ll have a room here,” offered Bruce.

Robin landed on Danny’s shoulders and was sending out happy-celebrate feelings. Steph handed Cass a few bills. Tim and Dick mimed giving each other fist bumps. Jason put his head in his hands and groaned. Duke was grinning at them all.

Damian half stood and said, “Father—!”

But Dick was at his side and pulling him back down to the couch with an arm around his shoulders, hand over his mouth, and whispering into his ear before he could do more than say the one word.

“Seriously, it’s not a big deal.” Trying to think of anyway to change the subject, he asked, “So what’s for dinner, anyway?”

And for the Tag List! (Which absolutely exploded this week. Holy shit.)

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Next

@addie-lover-of-stories, @justwannabecat, @gin2212, @amercurio, @regonold, @overtherose, @readerzj, @sjrose1216, @echoednonny, @deeterzz, @blu-lilac, @number-one-jew, @rowanaway-fromthisbs, @vythika96, @tired-yet-awaken, @themirrorghost, @all-mights-asscheeks, @darkhinauniverse, @blep-23, @phandomhyperfixationblog, @larkcoe1, @thegatorsgoose, @job-ross-the-second, @britcision, @lenacraft, @bubblemixer, @androgynouslordofescapism, @purefrickingspite, @leftmiraclechaos, @lizisipancardo, @starlight-sparks, @miraculousandmore, @gildedphoenix, @sometimesthingsfallapart, @letmesayfuxk, @phoenixcatch7, @skulld3mort-1fan, @abaowo, @dhampir-princess, @idkmrpianoman, @sarina-elais, @ballzfrog-blog, @undead-essence, @spookytragedyshark, @emeraldcorpral

The celebration post for 100 followers will be going out in another day or two! I've just had a really busy few weeks and didn't do as much writing as I was hoping for. But I hope to finish writing today and then I'll just take a few hours to edit.