#i tried my best!!! and no one can fault me for that.

[lyvhie]

omg hiii, i’ve been in my haechan feels lately, especially with him looking unreal from the seoul shows. can we get possessive haechan?? like i swear that man loves his girl down bad, absolutely in love, and he’s so possessive of her like not in a toxic weird way, but like a hot cute endearing way like a way that would make me push him into the dressing room of a clothes store and give him the most best and deserved head he’s ever gotten bc if there’s anything i love, it’s a man who’s down baddd

── .✦ moments of appreciation

lee donghyuck x fem!reader

𓂃 ࣪˖ ࣪cw: smut, fluff (?), oral (m), deep throat, public sex. 𓂃 ࣪˖ a/n: hi anon... you're so right... i think about this everyday, i meed him in every ways possible, you dont get it... please, enjoy!!! (no, i have nothing for valentine's day, maybe next year, babes 😜😜)

Donghyuck never thought he could love someone the way he loves you. He couldn't quite put into words everything that made him love you, you were simply it for him, perfect in all the right ways.

Yes, you had your imperfections, but to him, love was never about perfection. It wasn't about logic or reason, it simply was. Anyone could love something for all the good it offered, but real love, the kind that mattered, was about embracing everything, even the flaws. And that's exactly how he loved you—completely, without hesitation, without conditions.

He had thought about this before. You could break his heart, shatter him beyond repair, or commit the worst sins imaginable, and he would still love you—helplessly, foolishly. It didn't matter if it sounded irrational, maybe even a little insane. The truth was simple: he would do anything for you, no matter the cost.

But the best part? You were his. No one else's, just his. The thought alone made his chest swell with something dangerously close to obsession. Out of everyone in the world, you had chosen him, and that was a privilege he would never take lightly. You were his, and he was just as much yours, bound to you in a way that felt absolute, unshakable.

And that’s why, even after what felt like days sitting on that little couch, watching you step out of the dressing room in a different outfit each time, he still felt like he was having the best day of his life. Then again, every day felt like the best as long as you were in it.

Really, was there any better way to spend his time than watching his pretty girl try on pretty clothes?

“What do you think about this one?” You asked again, the same question you’d been repeating since the first outfit change.

Donghyuck looked up from his phone, his eyes immediately locking onto you.

“I've never seen anything more beautiful in my life,” he said with a bright smile, letting his gaze travel up and down twice.

“Hyuck, come on,” you rolled your eyes. “You said that the last fifteen times. You’re being useless,” you huffed, crossing your arms.

“How is it my fault that you look stunning in everything?” he shot back, tilting his head with a smirk.

You sighed, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “I need actual feedback, not just you being a flirt.”

Donghyuck leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he gave you a once-over, this time, with a more thoughtful expression. “Okay, fine. Turn around.”

You did as he said, giving him a little twirl before facing him again, an expectant look on your face.

He hummed, tapping his chin dramatically. “I mean… it is a really nice outfit,” he said slowly, making you narrow your eyes at him.

“But?”

“But I still think you are the best part of it,” he grinned, dodging the throw pillow you immediately launched at him.

He got up from his seat, laughing as he walked toward your grumpy figure, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Aw, don't look at me like that, gorgeous," he teased, pressing a kiss to your cheek and chuckling when you turned your face away. "Why are you so worried about this anyway?" he asked, tightening his grip slightly when you tried to pull away.

You hesitated for a moment before sighing. "It's for the reunion," you admitted, avoiding his gaze.

Donghyuck blinked, then tilted his head. "The high school thing?"

"Yes, the high school thing," you huffed. "I don't know, I just... want to look good. It's been years, and I'll be seeing people I haven't seen since we were all awkward teenagers."

His lips curled into a teasing smirk. "Ohhh, I get it now," he cooed. "You wanna show off a little, huh?"

You shot him a glare. "It's not like that—”

"It is like that," he interrupted, grinning. "And honestly? You should. You're hot. Let them eat their hearts out."

Despite yourself, you couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head as he pinched your sides playfully.

"I'm serious, baby. You're stressing over nothing. Just look at you," he said, taking your hand and turning you toward the mirror. His arms wrapped around your waist again, and he rested his chin on your shoulder. "You're breathtaking, the most beautiful woman in the universe and beyond. You could show up in pajamas and still look like a goddess."

You thought you'd be used to his endless flattery by now, but somehow, you never were. It was always sweet, never failing to make your heart skip a beat.

You glanced at him through the mirror, your worries slowly fading as he pressed a soft kiss to your neck.

"You're so dramatic," your tone warm as you rolled your eyes but leaned back into him anyway.

"I'm just telling the truth," he murmured, pressing his nose against your neck. "It's not my fault my overthinking girlfriend needs constant reminders of how stunning she is."

You huffed, but the way your lips twitched betrayed you. "Well, maybe if someone gave me actual opinions instead of just approving everything i wear, I wouldn't have to overthink."

Donghyuck chuckled, swaying you gently in his arms. "Fine, fine. If you really want my expert opinion..." He paused, pretending to scrutinize your reflection in the mirror.

You raised an eyebrow, waiting. "And?”

“Don’t wear this dress.”

“What? Why?” You frowned, glancing at your reflection. “I actually liked this one the most. Does it really look that bad?”

“I never said that,” his hands trailing up and down your waist. “You look incredible, love, but it feels a little too formal for the occasion. The second one you tried fits the vibe better. Plus, it’ll probably be more comfortable… you know, in case we need to make a quick getaway.”

Yeah, he wouldn't admit it, but he wanted you to wear it just for him. You looked too beautiful in it, almost unfairly so, the idea of anyone else seeing you like this, soaking in the sight of you, were a big no-no. Unwanted attention (read: any attention that wasn’t exclusively his) was simply not an option.

“Oh, so you’re already planning our escape before we even get there?” You raised your brows, crossing your arms. “Really?”

Donghyuck chuckled, tightening his grip on your waist as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "Baby, please. I know you," his voice laced with amusement. "You won't last more than an hour before you start getting annoyed at half the people there. You'll smile, nod, pretend to listen, and then, you'll be counting the minutes until we leave."

He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze in the mirror, a smug grin on his lips. "So, yeah, I'm already planning our escape. Just being a good boyfriend and thinking ahead.”

"Okay, maybe you have a point," you teased, rolling your eyes as you turned to face him, looping your arms around his neck. "Guess I should thank my thoughtful boyfriend for planning ahead."

"Just doing the bare minimum for my girl," he smiled, leaning in to steal a quick kiss. "Now that we've finally settled on an outfit and I’ve reminded you how perfect you are, can I spoil you and pay for everything you liked?"

You held his gaze, your heart doing that little flutter it always did when he looked at you like that, like you were his entire universe. It was almost overwhelming, the way his eyes softened, filled with something so pure, so consuming.

If love had a shape, a form, a physical presence, you were sure it lived in the way Haechan looked at you. The same way a loyal pet would gaze at their favorite person, full of unconditional adoration, unwavering and endless. His pupils were blown wide, his expression a mix of devotion and something deeper, something you couldn't quite put into words.

“Baby, please, don’t tell me you’re going to refuse again,” he whined at your silence, pouting a little. “Why do you love to ruin my happiness? It's my duty to—”

“I love you, Lee Donghyuck,” you said softly, cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss.

He was surprise by the sudden words and actions, but his shoulders instantly relaxed as he melted into your embrace. He kissed you back with equal passion, murmuring between the kisses, “I love you too,” before peppering your lips with more soft kisses as you pulled away, only for him to chase after you, craving more of your touch.

You couldn't help but giggle at the way he whined in protest when you pulled away for good, placing your hands on his chest to stop him. Biting your lip, you glanced around before tugging his hand, a playful glint in your eyes as you whispered, "Come with me." And just like that, you pulled him into the dressing room.

"What are you doing?" he asked, slightly confused, though he wasn't exactly opposed to whatever you had in mind.

"Just saying thank you for being the sweetest boyfriend ever," you murmured, sinking to your knees in front of him, your hands sliding up his thighs as you looked up at him.

Oh, he knew exactly what was happening. God, he couldn't believe it. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as his heart pounded, the sight of you like this making his pants uncomfortably tight.

"Are you sure, love?" his voice softer now, laced with anticipation. His eyes flickered to the curtain, hesitant for only a second as you unbuttoned his pants. "This isn't really the best place to—"

A low groan slipped from his lips as your hand firmly cupped his growing hardness, cutting off whatever weak protest he was about to make.

"Be quiet, Hyuck," you scolded, palming him again. He sucked in a sharp breath, biting his bottom lip to stifle any sound as a dark spot began to form on his underwear.

“Fuck, hurry up,” he hissed, any previous hesitation now completely forgotten.

You smirked at his impatience but didn’t tease him, at least, not too much. Slipping your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, you tugged them down just enough to free his cock, standing hard and eager, a bead of precum already glistening at the tip.

You wrapped your fingers around his length, stroking him slowly, savoring the way his breath hitched with each movement. His chest rose and fell in uneven rhythm as he leaned back against the wall, his gaze locked onto you, dark with need. His cock twitched in your grip, another bead of precum spilling from the tip, proof of just how desperate he already was for you.

You merely smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his tip before running your tongue along his length, savoring the way he tensed under your touch. His head fell back against the wall, his breathing growing heavier, his thighs trembling slightly as you took him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and sucking him in deeper.

"Shit—" He bit down on his fist to muffle the groan that nearly slipped, his other hand instinctively threading through your hair, not to control your pace but just to feel you closer, to ground himself in the pleasure you were giving him.

The muffled sounds of the store outside felt like a distant hum, completely drowned out by the way your tongue moved so perfectly against him. His not-so-soft moans filled the small space, each one making your core tighten with satisfaction. You sucked on the tip of his cock before slowly pulling away, letting it slip from your lips with a sinful pop, but your hand never stopped stroking him.

"Hyuck, you're being too loud," you scolded in a hushed tone, glancing up at him with a mix of amusement and warning.

“Don't stop,” he whined, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with desperation. His hips jerked forward instinctively, chasing your warmth. Even the slightest brush of your lips against his tip had his knees trembling.

You let out a soft chuckle, watching the way he was falling apart just from your touch. His fingers tightened in your hair, his knuckles turning white as he fought the urge to push you down onto him the way he so desperately wanted.

“You’re so needy,” you teased, your breath ghosting over his sensitive tip, making him shudder.

“And whose fault is that?” he shot back, his voice strained, breathing heavily.

Instead of answering, you wrapped your lips around him once more, taking him in deeper this time. His head fell back against the wall with a soft thud, a broken moan escaping his lips as his grip in your hair loosened for a moment, only to tighten again when your tongue flicked over his slit.

Was he dead, and this was paradise? If not, it had to be the closest thing to it. His legs nearly gave out when he felt your throat tighten around him, the sudden sensation ripping a loud moan from his lips. Your nails dug into his thighs in warning, silently telling him to keep quiet. He bit down hard on his lower lip, his breathing ragged as he fought to control himself, but with the way your mouth worked on him, it was becoming nearly impossible.

He looked down at you, and what a sight. The way your lips stretched around him, the glint in your eyes as you took him deeper—it was enough to make his head spin. The pleasure was overwhelming, pushing him closer to the edge. His hips moved on their own, chasing that high, silently begging you to go faster, to take him there.

You gave in to his desires, quickening your pace, sucking with more intensity, while your hand skillfully massaged his balls, each movement pushing him closer to the edge. The rhythm of your actions seemed to drive him wild, his breath ragged as he struggled to hold on.

His body tensed, his head spinning as he reached his peak, hot spurts of cum filling your mouth. His fingers tightened in your hair, urging you closer as his hips jerked forward, riding out the last tremors of his climax, unwilling to let go.

You pulled his cock out of your mouth, knowing he would have kept you there if he had his way. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, glancing up to see his face in pure satisfaction, eyes shut and head leaning against the wall. His hand now gently ran through your hair, his breath still heavy as he mumbled how good you were, the words dripping with praise.

You let out a soft giggle, adjusting his clothes as you noticed how disoriented he looked. As you stood up, he finally met your gaze, his eyes dark with desire. Without warning, he leaned in, pulling you into a kiss that was intense yet tender. “God, I love you so much, baby,” he whispered against your lips.

“Me too,” you replied, a playful smile on your face. “I think the whole store heard you,” you teased, gently biting his lower lip before pulling away to meet his gaze.

“Then I guess they know how much I love you now,” he shrugged, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, making you laugh. “Maybe I’ll be quieter next time.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Next time? I think this one was enough, don’t you? We could have gotten caught.”

“But we didn’t,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “Next time, I’ll make sure you're the one making all the noise.”

↝ taglist: @yizhrt, @sinisxtea, @peterm4rker.

[that-random-fangirl]

Part 4 - Three Bats Walk Into a Food Court (And Also a Person)

~~~~~✨~~~~~

Jason’s brother was a dick. Without a doubt, 100%, an asshole. Said brother had insisted on meeting up for Sibling Bonding Jaybird! No, this was not ‘sibling bonding’, this was the result of the asshole losing a bet with Steph, having to go shopping with her as forfeit – and dragging Jason into the nightmare under false pretences.

“Dick.” Jason spat from the backseat, meaning it in every sense.

“Yes Lil’ Wing?” The Dick-in-question responded from the driver’s seat as he pulled into a parking space at the mall.

“Richard.” 

Richard (Dick) Grayson gasped in horror. “No! You can’t full name me I’m older than you!”

Steph snorted in the passenger seat. “It’s your legal name, not your full name, dumbass.”

“Then you can’t legal-name me! I’ll tell Alfred!” 

Jason raised an eyebrow, reaching into his jacket pocket for his wallet. “Oh really? You’ll tell Alfred?” 

“Yes.” 

Steph watched the exchange eagerly, hitting record on her phone to capture whatever followed. “Oh this’ll be good.”

Jason produced a card from his wallet and presented it to Dick. “There you go.”

“I told you writing ‘I do what I want’ on a card doesn’t count as any kind of permit. I’m a cop, I’m not gonna fall for that.” He scoffed, before adding in a mutter. “Again.”

“Nothing of the sort, Dickolas – look at the card.” Jason insisted.

“What? This one? Fine.” Dick sighed, before beginning to read in a mocking tone. “Master Jason has every right and my permission to legal-name Master Rich—” He trailed off. “What the fuck? Alfred is in on this?!”

“It was his idea, actually.” Steph commented. “Something about how someone has to do it when he’s not available.”

“Why the fuck does Jason have it?!”

“I was nominated.” Jason shrugged.

“That doesn’t answer my question?!”

“Well,” Steph started, beginning to count them off on her fingers, “Damian is the baby, so you’d never take it seriously. Duke was busy with finals at the time. Cass didn’t want it. I’m apparently not ‘mature’ enough, or something. Tim can barely take care of himself and keeps forgetting to sleep so it couldn’t be him. Babs already has authority over you and Bruce wasn’t involved.”

“Plus we don’t listen to the Old Man anyway.” Jason added.

Dick stared at them, mouth hanging open. “What qualified Jason?!”

“Well he did start his own very successful business.” Steph mused.

“He became a Crime Lord!”

“His Business has many departments, and he handles all of them without resorting to over-caffeination and sleep deprivation.”

“He’s literally a vigilante.”

“We’re all vigilantes, get with the program. He was the best one for the job.” Steph replied, climbing out of the car and tapping away on her phone, probably sending the video to the Bat-siblings group chat.

“But I’m the oldest.” Dick whined, making his way around the front of the car to stand with Steph.

“Precisely why you need someone to legal-name you, can’t have you getting too cocky now, can we?” Steph teased, looking up from her phone and pinching at one of Dick’s cheeks.

“No we cannot.” Jason agreed. “I’m in the front on the way back, by the way, I can’t believe you stuffed me in the backseat.” He shut the door with perhaps a touch more force than was necessary, just to see his brother’s face scrunch up in displeasure.

“Please don’t slam the door. I like this car.”

“Oops.” Jason deadpanned.

Steph chose that moment to interrupt. “Not my fault you’re gigantic, I was there first.” She flicked her hair off her shoulder. “I didn’t choose the Passenger Princess life, it chose me.”

“Well, next time you can ‘passenger princess’ in the back, your highness.” Jason bowed mockingly. “Then you can stretch out across the backseat.”

“Solid point – I call backsies when we’re done here!”

“You cannot stretch out on the backseat while I’m driving that’s illegal.”

Jason and Steph stared at Dick for a moment, then – realising he was serious – tried and failed to stifle their laughter. 

“Wow.” Steph gasped, smacking Jason’s shoulder in her amusement. “That’s hilarious, holy crap.”

“Yeah, alright Dickhead, sure.” Jason snorted.

“I’m serious.” 

“Jeez if you’re that worried, I’ll drive.” Jason shrugged. “Can’t have the ‘passenger princess’ not playing passenger.”

Dick pressed his fingers together and into his chin. “I just said I like this car, you are not driving it.”

“You know I’m the best driver out of the clan, excluding Alfred, of course.” Jason protested.

“You drive like you have nothing to live for.” Dick pointed out, immediately regretting his words.

“Well yeah, I died.”

“Oh my God.” Dick threw his hands in the air, spinning on his heel and marching towards the entrance to the mall. “Nope, you are not driving my car. Let’s go get this done before you people drive me to the dark timeline.”

Steph and Jason trailed after him, sniggering.

Eventually, with only one instance of Jason ramming Dick into a concrete planter in the parking lot, the trio made it into the mall. Steph had stowed her phone and set off at a truly impressive – if you didn’t know she was a vigilante who leapt from rooftops after hours – pace for the other side of the complex.

“Steph! Slow down!” Dick begged, hopelessly.

“Dick! Hurry up!” Steph responded.

“Why are you going all the way to the other side of the mall? Don’t you wanna look here?” Dick blurted, confused.

“Dicky-boy, why don’t you know how to shop?” Steph halted in her march, facing them to shake her head. “The answer is so obvious!”

“No it’s not?!” Came Dick’s desperate reply.

Jason sighed, deciding to help his idiot older brother. “We’re starting further so we finish closer, dumbass.”

“Ohhh.” 

“Yes, ‘ohhh’, fuckin’ idiot.”

Steph smirked, spinning back on her heel and setting off again with a flick of her hair over her shoulder. Her minions associates following close behind.

Truthfully, this situation was Danny’s fault, He hadn’t been looking where he was going and now, he was drenched in several hot drinks and covered in three different kinds of fries. In his defence, he was running on probably 20 minutes of sleep and still injured – with all that on top of literally being half dead – it’s fair to say he was a little out of it.

“Well, that’s not ideal.” Danny muttered. 

That didn’t quite cover it, but it was better than the expletives that had filled the air following his collision with a tall, dark-haired and blue-eyed man carrying a tray of food court fare. The tray of food that was now all over Danny and the man himself.

“Oh my God I’m so sorry are you okay?!” The man exclaimed.

“Are these chilli cheese fries? I’d ask if you recommend them but I’m guessing you haven’t tried them.” Danny asked, only to be met with silence. “Okay, wrong crowd, it’s fine – don’t worry.”

“Uh, you sure, kid? You’re covered in – well – a whole lotta stuff.” A blonde woman in a purple sweatshirt pointed out.

“I’m not a kid,” Danny grunted, “and I’ve been covered in worse things.”

“When and how?” Some jock-looking dude with a white streak in his black hair – weird fashion statement but go off, I guess – asked, seeming genuinely surprised.

“Um, people like you aren’t exactly ‘besties’ with people like me?” Danny stated, gesturing to – well – all of the guy in question before doing the same to himself. “I end up in lockers and trashcans because I fit?”

“What do you mean ‘people like you?” The guy asked, somewhere between insulted and concerned.

“Uh, jocks? What did you think I meant?”

“You – hah – you think Jason is a jock?!” The guy who Danny bumped into in the first place laughed from the floor where he’d landed post-collision.

“Uh,” Danny started, “I did, though it looks like I was wrong? Sorry, man.”

“It’s fine, kid.” Jason responded, raising an eyebrow with half a smile, daring him to say anything.

“I probably deserved that.” Danny laughed. “Sorry about your lunch, I guess?”

“It’s fine.” The girl assured. “Dick ran into you.”

“I’m sure he’s not a dick!” Danny insisted.

She laughed out loud with Jason while the other guy just smiled.

“She’s not calling me names, don’t worry.” His smile grew. Apparently, he was trying not to laugh, he offered a hand to shake. “My name is Richard, but I go by Dick. The girl about to fall over is Steph, and the guy is Jason.”

“Oh, okay then.” Danny replied, attempting to avoid mentioning that high school must have sucked for this guy. 

He decided the ‘Dick’ name must be a Gotham thing, as that Duke guy from the library had a brother was also apparently called that. He shook Dick’s hand, before suddenly recalling that he hadn’t introduced himself. 

“Oh, right, I’m Danny.”

“Nice to meet you, Danny – let us help you clean yourself up.”

“Oh no it’s fine don’t worry!” Danny tried. “I can sort myself out later!”

“Nope, I just picked up a couple spare sweaters – I have a lot of siblings and they like to steal them – so you and Dick will go change while Steph and I order some more lunch and let one of the workers know about the mess.” Jason insisted, handing Dick his bag before adding; “You like fries, Danny?”

“Yeah? Wait what?”

“Great! Thanks Jay!” Dick called, accepting the bag and grabbing Danny’s hand, half-dragging and half-guiding the boy to the nearest restroom.

Outside the cubicles, Dick handed Danny a sweater.

“Here you go! Blue for you and red for me!”

“Why?”

“Well, blue matches your eyes and red is Jason’s favourite colour, so as his brother I like to wear it to remind him I’m secretly his favourite.” Dick laughed.

“I meant, why are you being so nice to me?” Danny asked, staring into the man’s eyes, “I ran into you, spilled your lunch everywhere and yet you guys are giving me a sweater and apparently buying me lunch? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Why shouldn’t I help you out? It wasn’t your fault, just bad luck.” Dick asked.

“Hah, I seem to get a lot of that.” Danny mumbled, before speaking up, “You don’t even know me.”

 “Why should that stop me from helping you out if I can?” He paused a moment, noticing the lines of distrust etched into Danny’s expression, “ Maybe you remind me of my brother.”

“Jason?”

“Yeah,” Dick nodded.

“How? He’s, and I mean this in the nicest possible way, huge – I’m average-sized at best and compared to that guy I’m a shrimp.”

“He wasn’t always linebacker-sized,” Dick snorted, “He used to be smaller than you – scrappy too.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well, I guess there’s a little more to it than that,” Dick pondered, “We didn’t get along all that well when we were younger, I still regret that. We missed a lot of time together that I wish I could get back.”

“That’s, um, deep?” Danny shifted foot-to-foot, “Thanks – I think?”

“No worries – happy to help!” Dick beamed.

Danny accepted the sweater awkwardly, not sure how to deal with the information that this random dude had just dropped in his lap. He shook it off, heading into the cubicle to change.

Dick watched for half a second, suddenly hit by a wave of emotion. He shook his head, clinging onto the look in Danny’s eyes as a distraction – the same look that was etched into everything Jason did as a child, and reared it’s head even now, at times. The desperation, the mistrust, and worst of all – the way he seemed to accept it as inevitable, like it wasn’t a surprise. Dick didn’t mention that he heard Danny’s comment about having a lot of bad luck. He didn’t mention that the kid looked tired, too thin – he didn’t mention how bony he felt when they collided.

If he texted Jason to get an extra serving or two of fries, that was between him and his Little Wing. If Jason had a few milkshakes along with the fries waiting for them – Dick’s favourite flavour, too – that was simply a coincidence. Steph said nothing, and Danny had no way of knowing.

By the end of lunch, Danny had weaselled Jason’s address out of him, so he could return the sweater once he’d washed it (the kid insisted, though Jason wouldn’t have minded if he never saw the sweater again). Danny wasn’t as subtle as he hoped, but it was hard to get anything by bat-trained vigilantes, and Jason shared the information easily – hopeful that the kid would come if he was ever in any trouble too.

The group bid their goodbyes, Danny heading out on his own, the others returning to their shopping. Soon enough, distracted with their lives and heroics, the vigilantes forgot about the boy with icy eyes, who watched with distrust. A week later, Jason received a package in the mailbox, inside of which was the sweater, some candy and a green post-it note:

‘Thanks for the sweater, and the fries – see you around.

– Danny’

The traces of Lazarus water on the note were only discovered when the other message appeared, weeks later.

‘When her Knights have been called, and arrive on the scene,

Release him, only together can you all win.

If the True shall be bold, you’ll learn where he’s been,

When all is as it should be, the city bells will ring.

– CW’

“Do you ever think Batman gets sad?” Young Danny asks his father as he gets tucked into bed one night.

“I don’t think so, son.” Jack responds, kissing Danny’s head.

Ten years later, as Danny is nearly bleeding to death in Batman’s arms after being found in an alley, he finally understands. Batman can get sad, but he can also be very, very angry at the same time.

[sugarcreambiteskingdom]

Cream Oreo Cookie: It's Valentine's Day! Woohoo! And for that special event and to celebrate the update of Shadow Milk Cookie being Playable and for Awakened Pure Vanilla Cookie we're going to have them be our special Cookies today for Valentine's Day!

This is inspired By @hugemilkshake

Pure Vanilla Cookie

To my dearest Y/N Cookie

Hello my beloved Sunflower...How are you on this very fine day? I hope the light is guiding you to wherever you maybe right now

Today is a wonderful day because it's the day of love

Valentine's Day

Y/N Cookie you are one of the most brightest flowers I have laid my eyes on

You have taken my breath and heart away without me even noticing it

You are amazing and a wonderful Cookie

I love you with all of my heart and wish you the best on your journey outside of Crispia

Be safe my dear

I love you

From Your Beloved Pure Vanilla Cookie

Shadow Milk Cookie

To My Favorite Puppet

Hiya Doll~!

How are you? Good? That's great! I'm glad you are

I heard that today is Valentine's Day full of love and hearts and all of this mushy stuff

Your probably wondering why I'm sending you this letter right now to wherever you are(I promise I'm not spying you ever since you left the spire) but I am sending this because I want to say that your...

MINE AND MINE ONLY...

REMEMBER THAT DOLL

No matter where you go or what you do you'll never be getting rid of me anytime soon

Either way it's not my fault you chosen ME to be your boyfriend

That's your fault! For falling for a Beast Like me but who can blame you? I am very quite attractive if I do say so myself

But anyways

I love you my dear favorite puppet

My little dolly

Enjoy (but not too much) whatever place or Cookie your with right now on your journey to somewhere outside of Beast-Yeast

And oh! Don't forget that if some Cookie tries to do anything to you just yell my name and I'll make sure that Cookie is nothing but Dust just for you~ ^v^

Love from your amazing and handsome Ringmaster Shadow Milk Cookie

[dragonshoardofworks]

Reincarnation Everlasting Trio Part 1 (DPxDC)

(I started this when my idle brain was disassociating on a job that I don't dislike but my boss is an ass, so go me, yey!)

And look at that! I managed to finish Part 1 just in time for Valentine's day!

Prompt: TUE happened (the timeline is a bit messed up, tho, so not everything followed the number of the episodes), but Clockwork didn't reverse the second explosion.

Danny, not wanting history to repeat itself, fakes his death along with his family and friends in the Nasty Burger and after ransacking the lab plus destroying the Portal (& FentonWorks since he's making it look like it was a full Ecto-filter's fault), he gtfo.

Danny's pretty done with life, but since he's a halfa, he's functionally immortal, so the only way to get "eternal sleep" is something similar to Pariah's sarcophagus.

But contrary to what the Ancients did back then, Danny would hide his coffin himself where no one would find him.

In a place rich of ambient ectoplasm (to power up the tech that would keep him “safe”), but inaccessible to anyone who doesn't have intangibility and even then he would put up an Ecto-shield to prevent anyone to bypass the solid bedrock that he would use as natural barricade.

Amity is not a safe Ecto-rich place anymore because of Vlad, so the next best city seems to be Gotham, what with the ley lines and several ghost curses layered on there.

So Danny digs a chamber hundreds meters under Gotham and builds from scratch his prison, going out only three or four times to get some missing scraps and just enough food and water to let him finish the job (completely ignoring the new vigilantes starting to go out at night).

(He meets Robin!Dick once and most likely a still-stray Jason, but he quickly forgets about them, since he's too depressed to care.)

Once finished the project, Danny goes stargazing as Phantom at the highest point of the city one last time, where (a still not overly paranoid) Batman converges to assess him as a threat.

The two talk and have a heart-to-heart (mostly because Bruce sees another grieving kid like Dick and tries somehow to help), but nothing B says is enough to make Phantom desist from what Bruce thinks is commiting suicide.

However, Danny still thanks him for trying and for treating him like a person (Anti-Ecto-Acts are mentioned during their talk and you can bet that later B is gonna check on them) and that Batman is going to be a good dad for his kids.

(This comment leads later to a kinder timeline than the mess that is canon. ꒰(@｀꒳´)꒱ )

Danny manages to snatch one hug from the man, then he flees to the secret chamber, where he “goes to sleep” after engaging every lock and shield.

Even if Batman managed to tag Danny with a bug, he misses his signal once he goes underground and that makes him regret not being able to save him.

Maybe if he had been more open and emotionally reachable, he would have succeeded?

(...and that's how Bruce starts to go to therapy, but shhhhh!)

Years pass and Danny stays as a Sleeping Beauty, however, despite being good at science, he doesn't know everything, so he couldn't have imagined that water would filter through the rock and start pooling inside the chamber (the equipment is luckily waterproof).

However, the passive Ecto-radiation and the small amount of pure ectoplasm that leaks from the top of the filter, makes the water slowly turn into its Lazarus variant.

Though, contrary to LoA’s Water, this Lazarus Pit is pure and uncorrupted due to the filtering machines. 

Over the years (~15… 😏) the water digs through the chamber and shapes it into a cave that eventually connects to the Batcave. 

Maybe the cave-in of a wall, makes some of the Robins go and check if the stability of the ground is still sound and find the Lazarus Pit that covers (almost) completely both the shield and sight of what's under the surface.

When the kids report, B asks for a complete scan of the Pit and it results in discovering that there's something at the bottom.

So they send an aquatic probe to look into it directly and come up to the coffin that has something written on the top in case some ghost did manage to find Danny's spot but not enter the barrier.

(The probe, being “normal”, is able to pass without problem through the shield, though.)

The text is written in multiple languages (just in case) and reads:

“Here lies Danny Phantom. Please do not disturb me while I'm resting, as I want to half-live the saying ‘I’ll sleep when I'm dead.’”

For the first time ever, Damian snorts in genuine amusement aloud and doesn't notice (the other Bats do and start freaking out), but then the camera zooms to the face of the boy inside the coffin and Bruce does a double take as he recognizes the kid he wasn't able to save.

That moment of shock is enough to make the man freeze and not be able to react in time to Damian lunging to the Pit and diving directly inside of it. 

The BatFam starts to freak out even more and try to direct the probe to go and save Damian, but at the end they just manage to see live what he's doing.

Like it's just a normal salvage, Robin!Damian just ignites the instant floating buoys and that makes all the equipment emerge, with Damian sitting on the top of the coffin, completely ignoring the calls of the Bats. 

Immediately, Damian starts hacking the controls of the coffin, but it's not needed since as soon as he starts typing, the computer lights up and seemingly recognizes him, giving him immediate full access. 

Still ignoring the calls (no one can reach him since he's too far from the shore), Damian disengages the lock and “defrosts” Danny.

It takes a bit for him to wake up, but as soon as Danny starts to blink blearily, Damian is into his face, shouting.

“‘I'll sleep when I'm dead’? Really, Danny? You absolute moron!” 

It takes a couple of seconds to register anything, but as soon as he does, Danny gasps and leaps at Robin, snake-bear hugging him, as he climbs and clings all over the other boy.

(If either of them is crying while laughing, no they aren't: it's just the lingering Lazarus Water on their faces.)

Too scared to accidentally trigger the unknown “being” into constricting Damian to death, the BatFam waits, analyzing the interaction.

(Cass silently reassures them that they aren't a threat.) 

“How?!” It's the first thing that ‘Phantom’ says, leaning a bit back to cup their hands on Damian's face, trying to look into his eyes, but the mask is in the way.

Casually, Robin unmasks himself (!!) and smirks smugly, holding the meta(?) by the waist.

“You do remember that incident at the Egyptian Exhibit, don't you?” A nod, accompanied by a desolate puppy-like expression. “Did you really think that I would have waited that long to come back and find you?”

This time the tears are undeniable and, to hide them, the being buries their head in the crook of Damian's shoulder, clinging harder, but not enough to harm him. 

“Where's Sam?” The being asks, muffled, after a while.

“No clue, I just started remembering from reading the pun and seeing your face.”

“Humph, that checks out. ...We'll have to go and look for her, since she's twice as stubborn as you and so she would have come back too.” Damian snorts in amusement, but nods. There's a pause, then Danny jolts, leaning back from him to look at the other better with a frown.

“Wait, why are you drenched in ectoplasm?!” He looks around and sees the Pit. “Wtf dude, this is so not healthy for you, com’on, I have to decontaminate you, you moron!”

(At this, Danny gets so many points in B’s books.)

“Nah, don’t bother.” Damian shrugs, putting a hand on his own chest. “I know my body and with the memory of past me coming back, I think I’m already on the way of becoming a halfa? At least, the humming beside my heart feels much like your Core.”

Danny startles and puts his own hand on the other’s to assess himself.

“Before taking a dip in this Pit to salvage your ass, it wasn’t noticeable, but the ectoplasm must have fed it enough to become active.” Damian guesses as Danny examines the evidence.

“Not ‘on the way’, try ‘already are’. How’s that even possible?” Danny gapes.

“Sweet! Now we can go flying together!” Damian beams.

“Forget that for a second and answer me! This feels like a complete baby-Core, much like mine right after the Accident, but at the same time it’s older?” Danny frowns. “Like 15 or so years old.” Looks up at Damian in confusion.

“That checks out. My current grandfather is a cultist revenant ass (*BatFam gasps in shock*) who’s obsessed with using Pits of corrupted ectoplasm to stay alive. I got tossed inside one a couple of times to be revived as well and I don’t doubt for a second that some of it was used to develop me in the artificial womb.”

“Duuuude, how does your new life sound more crazy than ours back then?”

“The merit of choosing to be reincarnated as the heir of a vigilante Father,” Damian points at the Bats with a thumb, making Danny notice them for the first time, “the ‘curse’ of an interesting life and the chance to meet you again, I guess.”

After a glance that promises ‘we’ll talk about that later’ to Damian, Danny turns properly to the BatFam and startles at seeing Batman. “Oh, it’s the Bat-dude!” Quick glance at the rest of the people, “I knew you would be a good dad! Tucker wouldn’t have chosen you otherwise!” 

There are various splutters from every BatFam member and Damian grumbles in embarrassment.

“Wait, you know him B?” Red Robin side-turns towards Batman, frowning. “There’s no report of him in any file of the Batcomputer. And I’ve read all of them.”

“...Because I never wanted a record of my failure glaring back at me. I already gave myself a hard time as it was, it would have made things worse and Black Canary agreed with that assessment.” B admits.

“What failure?” Jason (who has another vigilante name, since, you know, the Red Hood moniker was to spite B and in this timeline there’s no need for that) gapes.

“Probably me coming down here to get some ‘Eternal Sleep’.” Danny shuts off the barrier, picks up Damian and flies with him on the shore, phasing the residual ecto from their forms. “You thought it was an euphemism for suicide, not literal, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, you did give that impression. Are you alright, son?” B looks at Damian, still not outing his civilian name to be on the safe side.

“Of course, Father. This Ectoplasm Pit has none of the junk Grandfather’s has. Danny knows his stuff and his Ecto-filters are the top notch. (Danny blushes in the bg at the praise) Heck, it could even be used to cure Pit Madness or to revive people without it in the first place.”

“Let’s not try it, please!” Danny hastily intervenes, “No dying for anyone in my family allowed now that I’m back!” 

“Dude, we aren't immortal and you know that.” Damian shoulders Danny in scolding.

“They aren't immortal, you mean. You're a halfa now. Death won't stick on us in any way that matters, so I don't want anyone getting KiA at least. If they get to the point of being old and happy, then I'm fine with them going to rest. But don't think that I will leave your side any time soon.” Danny says pointedly at Damian, who bristles.

“That's completely insane, you can't be everywhere and above all you can't stalk me everywhere! I'm Robin, Batman's right hand, I won't be babysat when I have more experience than you no-” Damian's rant gets silenced by Danny kissing him.

Even after he lets go, Damian's brain is still blue screening while the BatFam is either gaping or catcalling.

“Tucker, or whatever you new name is, why do you think I went to sleep there after you all died in your past life?” Points at the coffin. “You remember that ‘Other Me’?”

“Vaguely, details are still a bit fuzzy, but he didn’t say much anyway after he tied us to the boiler…” Damian blinks, still a bit dazed by the kiss, but then grimaces at Danny’s flinch.

“Yeah, well, he actually went insane after losing you since that gave him an Obsession Failure. He broke down so deeply and irreversibly that it twisted him enough that accepting Vlad’s help led him to being the Scourge of Humanity. I-I… promised you to never become like him, so… this was the only way I could do that. I didn’t know what else to do, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to save you after all!” Danny breaks down, crying and sobbing and collapsing against Damian, as he cradles him in his arms.

Damian tries to console him with both physical affection (hugs and caresses) and murmuring reassurances (things like ‘it’s okay, it’s alright, it’s not your fault’) until the outburst slows down and his latest proposition catches Danny’s attention.

“Do you want to meet Batcow? She’s a true sweetheart, her therapist abilities are without equals among the living.”

“...You have a pet cow?” Danny’s voice is still rough with tears, but his disbelief is unmistakable.

“Of course I can have a pet cow! I saved her from an inhumane slaughterhouse, what I’ve seen there even made me swear off meat!” Damian!Tucker says righteously, but then realization sinks in as he stares with growing horror into Danny’s wide eyes.

“Oh Ancients, I’ve become like Sam! And I can’t even go back on the belief of my new life because both she and my current self have a point!”

That seems another breaking point, because Danny starts laughing so hard that he’s crying again.

“It’s not funny Danny, I’m having a crisis here!” Damian!Tucker cries in despair (to hide the relief that his best friend/crush/future boyfriend? isn’t as hopeless and depressed as before) as he lightly shakes the other, making him laugh even harder.

(He won’t let him go either. As Damian, now Tucker has all the skills he lacked in his past life and can protect his People. He won’t fail again.)

[oceanicwriting]

hey, bro!

summary: where mattheo riddle is obsessed with his best friend sister, and for the first time, he can fuck her without protection and now he doesn't give a fuck about who knows what. not even his best friend.

pairing(s): non-wizard mattheo riddle x non-wizard female!reader

a/n: i'm so sooooorry this took me a while to post... but here it is! i'm still doing my road trip and i have no idea when i'll be back, but i have some good ideas if you are patient with me hehe.

+18 smut, unprotected sex, missionary, praising

ㅤㅤㅤ —mattheo, —you moan as you feel his lips descend to the neckline of your shirt—. mattheo, wait.

ㅤㅤㅤ you thought he would ignore your voice because he easily lifts you up to sit on the counter, standing between your legs ready to receive him. although he continues to caress you with his large palms, he seems attentive to listen to what you have to say.

ㅤㅤㅤ —we can’t do this, —you whisper, looking him straight into his soft puppy brown eyes—. theodore could catch us, and we both know that would be fatal.

ㅤㅤㅤ —i can handle it, —he says, smiling and leaning in to kiss you again—. where does all this guilt come from, baby? i don't remember these words when we did it at my house, my car, the beach, the closet, the bathroom...

ㅤㅤㅤ you roll your eyes at his tone. funny but ironic.

ㅤㅤㅤ —get to the point.

ㅤㅤㅤ mattheo caresses your face with one of his hands, moving his thumb delicately over your cheekbone lit up red. his other hand travels to your back, where the neckline of the shirt allows him to feel your warm skin against the tip of his fingers. a shiver runs through your body, as weak as ever to his cold touch.

ㅤㅤㅤ —i don't think all the other times you cared so much. —you hated that his gaze enjoys so much seeing even the slightest reaction of your body to his presence—. theodore is drunk and, minutes ago, he went with my cousin to his room. why is that not illegal?

ㅤㅤㅤ you laugh, playing with the collar of his black t-shirt.

ㅤㅤㅤ —besides, it's my fault that his sister is so fucking hot? —he questions, letting out a soft laugh.

ㅤㅤㅤ you give him a punch on the shoulder as he tries to lean in to kiss you again. lately, he didn’t seem to care if theodore, your brother, found out about you two, and it was driving you a little crazy. mattheo growls at your action and raises his eyebrows in confusion.

ㅤㅤㅤ —not here. go to my room in five. —you jump off the furniture, pushing mattheo against the wall.

ㅤㅤㅤ —there’s my girl.

ㅤㅤㅤ mattheo riddle and theodore nott have been friends since they were five. when they met, after your family moved to his neighborhood, you had just turned three. over time, the brunette became a constant figure at home. now the two great friends shared an apartment near the university in the busy streets of london.

ㅤㅤㅤ your story with mattheo is somewhat different. sure, you knew each other since you were little, but theodore became an overprotective brother by the time. no one could ever get close to his little sister, much less his friends who he knew so well. everything turned upside down when you turned thirteen, and your parents sent you to a boarding school for girls in the outskirts of the country. you didn't see mattheo again until a year ago, where all kinds of things started to go wrong.

ㅤㅤㅤ the first time you two had a run-in was eight months ago. theodore, after having insisted for hours, took you to a party with the strict condition of not being near his friends. the big problem started when your brother drank so much that he was unable to drive the car, and mattheo was the only sane one to take you home. if your brother hadn't drank more than he should have, you wouldn't have had the slightest intention of getting close to them, and everything that's happening with mattheo would never have blossomed.

ㅤㅤㅤ from that time on, mattheo started looking for you, and even if you insisted that it was forbidden, nothing could stop the desire of your eager bodies.

ㅤㅤㅤ and that's how you've ended up, once again, whimpering under his sticky body. you're not fully aware of how many times you've cum under the brunette's caresses, but you're sure you've enjoyed each one of them. the labored breathing, aroma of the room, and condoms thrown on the floor were proof of that.

ㅤㅤㅤ —shit, —he whispers, coming out of you to throw away the condom that was squeezing his cock—. so perfect. and just for me.

ㅤㅤㅤ you barely smile because you're still a little lost from the explosion of sensations you'd experienced seconds ago. mattheo, until now, had tested your pussy until exhaustion. he had bitten, licked, and sucked every corner of your naked body with the need to mark you until the last day of your life. of course, as fascinating as everything he'd done before, burying himself in you over and over again wasn't going to be left out of the long night.

ㅤㅤㅤ —how i love to see your face after the orgasm —he whispers, caressing your legs, standing between them—. so beautiful and bright.

ㅤㅤㅤ seeing him naked and stained by soft pink marks can only awaken a new wave of need that intoxicates you. it is an unrecognizable force of desire that generates all kinds of thoughts loaded with lust. then, motivated by instinct, you hug his waist with your legs and pull his arm.

ㅤㅤㅤ —what is this? —he questions, resting one of his hands on the bed so as not to crush you—. seconds ago, you were screaming that you couldn't take it anymore.

ㅤㅤㅤ there is a hint of concern in his voice for taking you to an unknown limit, but also a certain mockery that does not go unnoticed motivating you to rub your pussy against his slowly hardening crotch. it was as clear as the day that mattheo riddle could never resist you.

ㅤㅤㅤ —mattheo. —the guttural moan that escapes your lips is enough to make him lose his mind a little—. i need you to fuck me again. i need to feel every inch of you, please.

ㅤㅤㅤ —baby, i don't...

ㅤㅤㅤ knowing exactly what he was going to say and taking the initiative you speak—. i don’t want you to use a condom. please, mattheo, i need to feel it all inside me.

ㅤㅤㅤ how could he think straight when you’re rubbing yourself shamelessly, his lip marks glistening on your chest, and you’re smiling like the devil himself has possessed you?

ㅤㅤㅤ mattheo’s lips tangle with yours in a messy, exhausted, needy kiss. it was such a strange mix that your heart skips a beat against your chest. he settles against your pussy, finding your entrance and gently pushing himself inside you. he didn’t want to go fast because mattheo wanted to remember every corner of your insides with agony.

ㅤㅤㅤ —you feel so good.

ㅤㅤㅤ when his member is completely inside you, you feel his warm skin throbbing and stretching your muscles to the limit. the feeling of that connection drove you completely crazy because being with mattheo was already dangerous territory, and having him inside you without any barriers was even more exciting.

ㅤㅤㅤ —do it slowly —you ask, moving your hips to let him know that he could move.

ㅤㅤㅤ just as you had asked, mattheo does not rush. his entries and exits are smooth, enjoying the exquisiteness of your hot interior. he was fascinated by the way your muscles embraced him, sliding without problem against your walls that could have made him cum from the first moment.

ㅤㅤㅤ soft moans begin to escape from mattheo's lips, forcing you to pay attention to those sounds that you had rarely heard. they were loud, husky, and shameless, perfectly matching the clash of their bodies and your own moans.

ㅤㅤㅤ —shit, i could get addicted to this. feeling you like never before, —he whispers, kissing your chest and speeding up the movement of his hips—. but i can’t take it anymore.

ㅤㅤㅤ a soft cry escapes your mouth at the speed that tickles the inside of your body. mattheo separates his chest from yours, raising your hips held by his hands and burying himself deeper this time. you try to keep your composure, but it’s impossible not to whimper and shudder.

ㅤㅤㅤ —mattheo, i can’t... —a stream of tears escapes down your reddened face—. i need to cum.

ㅤㅤㅤ he doesn't respond, dropping your body back against the bed and stimulating your clit with one of his fingers. the simple contact makes you arch your back in unrecognizable pleasure, clouding your gaze.

ㅤㅤㅤ —so stupidly cute, —he whispers, admiring the way his cock comes in and out of you to discover every corner of your interior—. you're going to look so gorgeous after this. come on, baby, cum for me.

ㅤㅤㅤ you close your eyes tightly, moaning loudly at the amount of sensations that whip through your entire body. then, you feel it, a relieving heat that runs through your entire body accompanied by a soft pop. mattheo has just left your interior to cum in your abdomen, while a soft convulsion releases your own orgasm.

ㅤㅤㅤ you can’t open your eyes because you’re too tired, irritated, and relieved to do so. mattheo takes the liberty of cleaning you up, tidying the room soon after.

ㅤㅤㅤ —you can’t fall asleep, —you whisper, feeling the heaviness of his arm around you—. mattheo?

ㅤㅤㅤ —i know, baby. i know.

ㅤㅤㅤ and the truth is, you should have found the strength to get him out of the room, but you didn’t, waking up the next morning with his arm still squeezing you.

ㅤㅤㅤ —mattheo!? —it's a little scream that you have to stifle with your own hand, getting out of bed and watching him wake up lazily—. shit! mattheo, wake up. you have to go. now.

ㅤㅤㅤ —five minutes...

ㅤㅤㅤ —what? —you climb onto the bed, pushing him towards the edge as best you can—. shit. come on, please, mattheo...

ㅤㅤㅤ and the silly smile that appears on his face at your useless efforts doesn't help the panic growing in your chest. then he pulls your arm, making you fall on top of his bare chest.

ㅤㅤㅤ —do you know that you're wearing my shirt? i can't leave without it.

ㅤㅤㅤ the truth is that you hadn't realized that until he mentions it. mattheo, in an attempt to kiss your lips, approaches your face with impulse.

ㅤㅤㅤ —if that's what you need to get out of the fucking bed.

ㅤㅤㅤ and mattheo shines at the idea of ​​seeing your tits. however, the second you try to take off the garment over your head, your door bursts open. theodore nott, your brother, is now part of the equation.

ㅤㅤㅤ —what the fuck am i looking at? —at each word he pauses a little, exchanging his gaze between you and his best friend.

ㅤㅤㅤ mattheo has jumped out of bed, and the obviousness, given his semi-nakedness, is comical.

ㅤㅤㅤ —god! —you approach your brother, determined to push him out of your room—. why the hell are you coming in without knocking?

ㅤㅤㅤ —hey, bro!

ㅤㅤㅤ if it weren't for the fact that you know that's the worst thing he could say, you would have considered that goofy smile one of the cutest you've ever seen on his face.

ㅤㅤㅤ —shut the fuck up! —theodore bellows, pulling his best friend closer to pull his arm with your failed attempts at stopping him—. i'll talk to you later. walk, motherfucker.

ㅤㅤㅤ —theodore, wait!

ㅤㅤㅤ mattheo doesn't seem to have the best face in the world, but he doesn't seem sorry or afraid either. what the hell is wrong with him today?

ㅤㅤㅤ —see you soon, baby.

ㅤㅤㅤ and you can hear mattheo receive a blow, followed by your brother's voice saying—: you're not going to see her anytime soon, shit face. what the hell do you think you're doing...?

[sweetm4ri]

⭑𓂃 𝐆𝗂𝗋ᥣ 𝐒𝗍υ𝖿𝖿 ꩜ .ᐟ

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WARNINGS :: Akutagawa Ryūnosuke / Dazai Osamu / Fyodor Dostoevsky / Ranpo Edogawa / Chūya Nakahara x F!Reader (separately); Already established relationships; Angst (on the Fyodor part); Anxious reader (on the Chūya part); Slightly mentions of dark themes, not much, but can trigger some people that are scared to walk alone at night (on the Ranpo part)

SINOPSE :: Problems that you have to deal with being a girl on different situations with male bsd characters.

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Note :: To all the girls.

⭑𓂃 Akutagawa Ryūnosuke

It was a hot day, not a cozy, warm day or a little bit cold one. It was a hot day. An extremely hot one. It was like the devil had decided to pass his home to here.

You, noticing the good and normal temperature in the morning, decided to only wear a sweater, with nothing underneath, only your intimate clothes.

It would be fine. But in this moment, it was like you were in a toaster, almost creaming or falling apart.

You shacked your hands in front of your neck, going back and forth with the cloth piece, trying to make a ventilation or something like that. Your dear one, only looking at you with those dark eyes that you could easily read through.

"What? Don't judge." You say, not even bodering with explaining everything.

"Why are you doing that? Just take the sweater off." He pointed, making everything sound too simple, very, even extremely simple.

"I can not." You explain, continuing to try to find a bit of air underneath.

"Why, though? You just need to take it off, simple." He continued, gesturing the simplicity of fleaping the cloth off you.

"I do not have anything underneath, okay?" You say in a wishper, explaining how difficult the whole situation was.

With everything set. Your boyfriend only looked at you in disbelief, shaking his head negatively. Oh well, maybe one day he would understand it.

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⭑𓂃 Dazai Osamu

"Why do you have to take so much time?" Your boyfriend whines from the other side of the door of the bathroom, impatient by the time that you have to take to clean yourself.

Even if Dazai was a genius, he did not seem to understand the complexity of choosing the right product for you and taking a good time to each of them.

"Dazai, it is not my fault. I have to be careful and pay attention to each product!" You explain, carefully passing your mascara by your dear hair.

"I would prefer if you paid attention to me instead!" He hissed, sitting on the cold floor, his back to the door as he looked through your shared bedroom.

"Paying attention to you will not make my hair or skin perfect." You proclaimed in a firm tone, walking to the door with a towel in your body, finally opening it.

His eyes shone, thinking that you were finally over. Soon frowing seeing your still weat hair with product.

"You can watch if you want. Maybe you can learn a bit." You said with a kind smile, giving up on making your boyfriend wait for you.

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⭑𓂃 Fyodor Dostoevsky

Today was a very significant day since you were going to an important dinner with Fyodor, your boyfriend. He is a very respected person, which is natural, considering the work he puts so others have full trust in him. You were no diferente however, you trusted him more than anything, and he trusted you too, or so you hoped so.

The night started really well. You had a nice outfit on, a gorgeous makeup, and your dear one was incapable, too. The gathering took place in a very expensive and renowned restaurant, you found all sorts of people there, from rich normal ones to literal presidents. And, of course, being already familiar with how highly and exceptionally Fyodor talks, you put up your best face, prepared to show these people your best, and how you deserved to be there.

Even so, your lover had other plans. Every time you tried to even say something, he would just slide into the conversation, making people hear him instead. Which was utterly weird and ridiculous. Would he not believe in your capacity to handle things?

You pushed him delicately aside from everyone, whispering in a low voice so only he could hear you, an then you asked it.

"What is the problem, Fyodor? Why are you not letting me talk with them?" Your lips moved calmly just like you were telling a secret.

"My dear, you know I fully trust you, but you need to understand. These are not just normal people. They are truly important and significant. If you said something you should not, how would I be?" He responded to you, with his usual attractive and magnetic smile, his voice tone excelling confidence in his words.

"You need to understand." That words got stuck in you like nothing else, making you unable to speak how frustrating his actions were.

"I am quite sure you will understand me. Let me handle things while you speak to the other woman's, I am sure you will have your fun too." He completed his other statement with some more couple of words, those who should not be said.

Understand. Should you really be the one to comprehend it?

"I do not have the words to say how completely stupid you sound right now. Maybe you should learn a bit about how to understand things." You said, trying to keep your tone still calm and relaxed, but still raising it a bit.

"If you do not mind, wich I am sure you do not, I am leaving. There is nothing here for me anyway. I hope you do think a little about what you made and told me. I am not a doll for you to simply control like that, and most of all, I am not like the people you deal with. You should respect me more, Fyodor."

──────────୨ৎ──────────

⭑𓂃 Ranpo Edogawa

You should know better than deciding to go out at night with a big baby, but in any way, you did it. And now you were going until the end of all this.

The Agency had declared that because of the victory against the other - very powerful - organization, all of you would go out to a bar and bath yourselfs in alcohol, as a well deserved reward.

When you arrived with your boyfriend, almost everyone was already there, although there were still people putting some food on the tables. And as expected, Ranpo went almost running for the food, leaving you behind.

You, in a different way, went to say hello to everyone. You could try to stop Ranpo, but you know better than that. Besides, it was a celebration between people from the Agency, so nobody really cared about that.

As timed passed, more people had arrived, and you, of course, greeted all of them, kindly smilling to your friends. There was drinks, lot alcohol, food and jokes.

By the end of the night, it was really dark, no clouds in the sky, only that obscure blue, and some little to no stars. And some people started to leave. You, being a woman who would have to walk your way home, knew better than let everything get even more late.

You made your way to your boyfriend, who was currently talking with your dear friend Yosano. You got close to him and said that you two should go because it was getting already very late.

He simply looked at you in confusion, stopping the conversation and focusing on only you.

"Why now? It is not that late." He says, still confused, eating some candies calmly.

"It is late! And I have to walk back home!" You exclaimed, lightly irritated whit him. You knew he had all that smartness "only" with the glasses, but you did expect for him to get what you meant.

"And? Walk then." He stated, like it was all very simple and easy. Easy for him, a man.

"Are you good, Ranpo? You need to walk her home. It is dark outside, and a woman walking alone would be a very easy prey." Yosano explained, giving herself the free pass to interrup the conversation between you two and also saving you from a bug talk.

"Oh, sorry." Ranpo said, finally getting your point. Maybe his mind didn't work late at night, but anyway, you two had to go.

The walk was actually really calm, for your luck, since Ranpo isn't the tipe to fight. Although you had come with a hole explanation to him about how dangerous it really is for you to walk alone outside, especially at night. Your next lesson would be about how to use a train. He seems like he needs that.

──────────୨ৎ──────────

⭑𓂃 Chūya Nakahara

Chūya awaited patiently against his motorcycle, a gasp of smoke leaving his lips as he put the cigarette back in his lips. In time to time, he looked at the clock in his wrist, checking the hours again and again, wondering how much longer you would take.

On the other side, you were impatient, deciding mentally if really was a good idea going to that date. I mean, you would love to, it's your boyfriend after all. But the clothes were not helping. How could you choose the perfect one? It was like all the good dresses had gone missing all of a sudden.

You cursed mentally all the people that had stepped in this world, trying a bunch of clothes that you were not even aware of that existed. Anything could not do. It had to be perfect. The perfect cloth for your perfect date with your perfect boyfriend.

Your back was against the bed blankets, looking up at the ceiling, again questioning yourself about everything. Why did it have to be so difficult? Now, you were just cursing yourself. Everything is wrong in this moment. Everyone is nothing but a big mistake.

As if some god from afar had listened to your complaints, you suddenly remembered a dress that Chūya had given you not so long ago. Even if it was not your birthday already, he enjoyed giving you a bunch of stuff. And that included the beautiful and magnificent dress that was seated gracefully in your wardrobe.

Even if it was not the "perfect" dress for your perfect date, it was special. And you knew how much your dear one appreciates that kind of thing. Nothing really needs to be perfect sometimes. Maybe you were just overthinking too much. Or maybe you were not. You can not just go out with anything that you see in front of you. It needs to be good, who imagines the people that you will see in the street.

While everything played in your mind like a movie scene, you had finally finished preparing yourself, your clothes hugging your body perfectly, like it was made just for you. Which you did not doubt, giving how your boyfriend was. Always wanting to make you happy and loved for being exactly who you are.

You hurry up to get to the door of your home, batting an eye to Chuuya awaiting patiently for you with his motorcycle.

"Hi my love, sorry for the delay." You excuse yourself to him, hugging him tightly and kissing his cheek.

"It is okay. You are stunning, really. Like a goddess of beauty." He says in a really sweet tone, which was always reserved only for you. You only laughed at his compliment, brushing it off so he wouldn't notice the light red color on your cheeks.

"You think? I was worried that it was not perfect. You know, the clothes and all. I really wanted to be perfect for you... and our date, of course!" You explain slightly embarrassed, trying not to let yourself even more shy with all this.

"You are impeccable in any way, really." He says, kissing your cheek and offering you one of the helmets.

F. Note :: I hope you liked your reading dear, please, do not forget to take care of yourself.

Lots of love,

Mari. ♡

Tags.ᐟ ::

[levi-ackerman-ds]

Valentine’s Day Disaster

Levi X Reader

Approx: 1.8k words. TW: Road Rage. Not proof read.

You knew you had plans tonight. Well, Levi did all the planning. That morning, you went to work with a smile on your face and on cloud nine, knowing that Levi would sweep you off your feet in his own way after work. Nothing could ruin your mood.

Everything ruined your mood.

The moment you sit at your desk, your co-worker just had to start with the problems they have in their life. In the beginning, you were patient and nice. You tried to listen to them, give them advice, and provide support. It didn’t take long for you to realize it was one-sided. The one time you shared something personal, somehow everyone knew about it the next day.

But for right now, in your small office, you are trapped listening to whatever relatively minor issue is absolutely world-ending. You hide your irritation with “Mmhmms” and “Oh, I’m sorry’s,” wishing they would just return to work and leave you alone. Great. Now you’re annoyed.

After lunch, you let out an audible groan as the number of one of your most demanding clients flashes across your office phone. You wanted to fire this customer so much, but money talks and your boss wants you to handle her. The phone wasn’t even to your ear yet but you could hear the speaker crackle and strain, trying to give clear audio through the screaming on the other end. Of course, her order being held up by customs is your fault. Of course, you are an idiot who doesn’t know how to do your job. You keep that fake fucking smile as you speak to her, trying to calmly explain that you have already told her the issue with customs many times.

No, you didn’t. You never told her anything!

Feeling the anger bubble up, you never wanted to “as per my last e-mail” someone so badly. But you can’t. You can’t insult this client, so you sit there and take whatever personal attack she decides to degrade you with. Great. Now you are annoyed and angry.

You try to keep your mind on the plans Levi has for you tonight. Grand gestures weren’t his forte, but for you, he would do it even if he’d grumble about it. The night will start with limousine services.

“You must get the best one! Reeeally make her feel important!” It was Hange’s idea. They seem to have an affinity for anything oversized.

Cliche, maybe, but neither of you had ever ridden in one, so why not? You had thought about that little divider that would close off the driver from whatever you were doing back there. Extremely tinted windows that no one could see into...

Levi had managed to put a deposit on a Rolls Royce Phantom 300 stretch. It was stupidly expensive. You remember his under-his-breath curses and grimaces on his face as he filled out the online form, securing it for your night. But you are his world; tonight, he wants you to feel special.

Booking the restaurant took six months in advance. It is already the hottest spot in town, but they are doing a once-in-a-lifetime Valentine’s Day event for the lucky couples who reserve a spot. Even this required a deposit to reserve seating. Dinner and a Show. You will eat the finest cuisine while enjoying an adaptation of “Romeo and Juliet.” It’s not exactly Shakespeare’s version and it should be a little spicy. Okay, very spicy.

Critics at the pre-screening left surprisingly positive reviews. “One would expect an erotic rendition of such an iconic classic that “Romeo and Juliet” is would be disastrous. I fully expected a banal show with overused tropes, actors that lack chemistry, and over-the-top “performances” that would make the most open-minded squirm in embarrassment. I can say with perfect alacrity that this show delivers in all categories. The allure and attraction between characters can best be described as a steamy passion with a deep connection. It definitely gives couples something to think about on the way home.”

Why do critics always sound that way?

“I was pleasantly surprised.” Wrote another. “It gave me tingles.” Short and to the point, at least. The ride in the limo back home might be a new stage for reenactment.

Still, you couldn’t get your client out of your head. No matter how much you tried to focus on the night’s events, that shrilling voice rang in your head. You don’t know how many times she called you an idiot while berating you for ten minutes. She got personal, insulting your intelligence, your appearance, any nit-picky thing to get a reaction out of you. You held your pleasant, apologetic tone the whole time, but as soon as you set the receiver down, you wanted nothing more than to scream your indignation to the world. You are good at your job. You know that. Right?

…Right? Are you?…

Could this day get any worse? Well, you know what happens when you ask that.

You thought you were in the clear when you finally clocked out for the day. Still angry and upset but holding on. Getting into your car, you set the stereo to play your favorite playlist. Maybe this will help your mood. Not even on the road for five minutes, and there is some asshole flying down the street behind you. He thinks you’re going too slow, but you are speeding slightly already. The entire hood of his car disappears in your rearview mirror as he rides the ass of yours. The blaring horn of his car startles you while he speeds up and slams on his brakes, suggesting he’s going to hit you if you don’t get out of his way. But there is nowhere to go. It’s a one-lane street.

When it opens to two lanes, you would think this jackass would just pass you and move on. But no. You really drew his ire. Passing you on the wrong side, he gets in front of you only to slam on his breaks. You slam yours in time, but you almost hit him. The deranged behavior coming from the other driver is nonstop. You can see him shouting in the cabin of his car even though you can’t hear it. Anger turns to terror as you realize this guy is actually trying to hurt you. He wants you to crash for having the audacity of making him arrive at his destination a couple of minutes later.

Moving lanes and pulling alongside you, he swerves his car into your lane, causing you to move into the oncoming road. Your heart races like a wild bird trapped in a small cage, desperately trying to escape. As you glance over, you can see him. Everyone thinks road rage is caused by some bug-eyed, wild-haired lunatic, but he was a perfectly normal-looking guy. Furious, yes, but completely ordinary. What could drive someone to do something like this?

Finally, he lets you back on the right side of the road, giving you the obligatory finger before speeding off. It took a few minutes for you to realize you were sucking in air like someone just rescued you from the bottom of a pool. The world was in sharp focus but felt so far away. You pushed yourself to drive home with your shaking hands and trembling muscles. You never want to be on the road again after this.

God, what are you going to do with your hair? Usually, this wouldn’t even be a problem, but you can’t focus. How dare that client suggest you were terrible at your job. You know how to do it, damn it. Should you paint your nails? One already has a chip in it. What the hell was that guy's problem anyway? You were already speeding. Why won’t that two-faced co-worker leave you alone? You know they talk about everyone behind their backs. You could have died today.

Now you are annoyed, angry, and very scared.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Levi’s dulcet tone greets you as you walk through the door.

“What’s so fucking happy about it, Levi?” You snap sharply.

You’ll regret speaking to him like that later, but for right now, you're hanging by a thread. Like a cartoon, the last strands of the last thread are snapping one by one. Thread of a thread. After everything that’s happened today, from annoyance to anger to terror. Your mind is just a flurried mess of thoughts. The co-worker, the client, the road rage mixed with the forced thoughts of your hair, your nails… Fuck, how can you even think about going out like this? And who can blame you?

Levi didn’t. Even when you snapped at him, he didn’t say a word. He could see the look in your eyes, how tense you were like a set mousetrap creaking under stress, the flush on your face, and the fact that you still hadn’t caught your breath.

You think of all the money he spent on deposits and reservations, all the time filling out forms and making sure the night would be perfect, all the effort to pull off something Levi doesn’t normally do. But you couldn’t. You just couldn’t do it. Just the thought of being on the road again made your heart twist.

Instead, he held you in his arms on the couch while some cheesy rom-com was playing on the television. Neither of you paid attention to it. You were too upset, and he was too focused on you. Levi did precisely what you needed him to. He spoke gently when you needed to and stayed silent when you didn’t. He never once mentioned the plans he made.

You run through every emotion we have names for. And probably some we don’t. Your hair was so soft between his fingers, and your cheeks were wet under the pads of his thumbs. The rapid beat of your heart was so hard even he could feel it on his chest. The wracking sobs made the top of your head bump under his chin.

You eventually relaxed, the tenseness in your muscles and the tone of your voice melting into the warmth of his arms. A little chuckle as you caught a bad line from the movie you weren’t watching.

He even saw you smile.

The next day, you felt horrible. You treated Levi terribly from the moment you walked in the door. How could you? Levi did so much so that you would feel special and you ruined it. All that money is wasted. He can’t get it back. The once-in-a-lifetime performance you made him skip out on. All because you had a bad day?

“I’m sorry, Levi. I ruined your Valentine’s.”

There was so much more you wanted to apologize for. You didn’t even know where to start. Even the apology sounded arrogant. How can you sit here and apologize after what you did?

He didn't even have to think about his answer. “What the hell are you talking about? I did exactly what I wanted to do for Valentine’s Day.”

[bokettochild]

apparently i like making myslef hurt and suffer

because i'm wondering

how would Sablya react if she heard about "Mrs. Kitt Tailor" and their MANY kids?

i know she's from another au but dang it my mind is wandering and it hurts

I will be entirely honest, I have had thoughts on this SO MANY times, but never been sure if there was a point in writing it! That said @apparitianhanako actually asked me a while ago to write this! It just fell by the wayside.

I got hit by a wave of inspiration when I saw this ask though, although unfortunately I am running on like...four hours of sleep, and, thus, brain function is CRAP, so I cannot vouch for the quality here, but I guess here's an answer fic! (NOT Violet Incident canon or TBBU/BoHH canon)

-

 It’s one of those days that’s actually not as bad. 

 There aren’t a majority of either the good or the bad, mostly just a sort of lingering gray that overtakes it all. A grey unlike the twilight, unlike the shadows, and very, very different from even those long stormy nights that Link loved so much. 

 To look at him, you’d never think a man like that would love storms, and yet he does. Many’s a night they’d curl up before the fire, huddled in close under some quilt or another that his mother and sisters had made and he’d tried his very best to add too, even despite his trembling hands. Many’s a night she’d brew them tea and he’d hold her close, eyes turned to the windows and sharing story after story from his childhood, from his homeland; the fae stories that even her grandfather doesn’t know, and never could tell with the eloquence of the man she’d loved. The selkie stories he’d learned from his grandmother and passes on to anyone who’ll listen. The stories of the old, the new, the unknown, the unexplained. Her Link may not have been rich to the world’s eyes but he was rich in stories, and to the two of them that was often better. 

 They had been anyway. She still loves them, but there’s something lacking in new ones now, maybe the roll of his voice or the intent way he’d tune his telling to its listener, engage and entrance them with his words until they’d feel there themselves. A book’s pages don’t capture it right and no one knows how to say it. 

 Sometimes she wonders how he’d describe the greyness. Would he spin it like the deep sea that drinks down whatever is cast within, leaving a peaceful stillness above and a roaring torrent below? Would he tell it like a sky before a storm? The wind before a blast? The air in a second before magic speaks its words over the earth? 

 But he’s not here to say it. 

 That’s sort of her own fault though. Proud though she is, Sablya knows the faults not solely his, and that’s the source of the grey. 

 Pride’s a dangerous thing; she’s been warned all her life. It’s the thing that sends soldiers to their deaths and ruins lives and loves. Still, even with that knowledge, it’s a powerful force to try and deny, and it’s the only one that’s stopped her on some days from straying towards the castle to try and fix things. 

 And then, some days, it’s weak, so very weak, and she manages to step out anyway, heading for the gates and intending, with all her heart, to wander in to his office and ask, like anyone who comes to him, if he can help her to restore the family that she lost in the war, to bring her Link home to her. 

 Something always stops her though. 

 Pride, perhaps, stops her at the gate. Doubt and anger at the steps, her own unwillingness to face the world some days stops her making it past her own doorstep. But the times she’s made it to his door, hand on the knob and ready to knock, it’s the voices inside, the tired sound of his voice and the tears he’s no doubt meaning to ease from whomever it is that’s come to see him, seeking, like herself, to find what was lost. It’s doubt then, and fear, and bitterness that has her certain that he’d say the same to her as he’s said in her hearing to so many bereaved; “your soldier isn’t coming home, ma’am. I’m sorry.” 

 Today though isn’t a day where that doubt creeps in. It's one of those ones where even pride has taken a backseat and she’s got a moment to look about her home and feel the most dangerous feeling of all; hope. 

 Link’s a man who’s good to his word, who never breaks a promise, never defiles a vow. The vows they made on their wedding day, surely, were meant with as much if not more heart than any other he’s made. They’d sworn ‘through good and bad, easy times and hard, sickness and health’, and though she’s failed, broken that promise, on a day like today, she has faith that he wouldn’t. 

 He came home after all, and he never pushed when she’s said no, said go, said leave. He’s never failed a vow yet, so surely, this is one he will keep. Surely, he’ll at least let her try to speak to him, if only enough to discuss, to give words to the greyness that bubbled up that day that the war ended and he’d come home. 

 On another day, maybe she’ll laugh at herself for her hope, for the naivety, but on this day, Sablya Taylor has no intentions of letting a past or future version of herself stop her for at least today. After all, she’d heard from a neighbor that Link is back. Wherever it is that he’s gone, he’s back now. 

 “And looking a good deal in better health then last I saw him!” The old lady had chirped at her over the garden wall yesterday evening as she’d been working at the wash. 

 It’s a spark, a bit of hope that’s dangerous but oh so powerful, and it has her setting out that very morning. 

 She’s not sure if it’s the castle or an inn he’ll visit, because Hylia knows it won’t be his mother’s place, not on the slim chance that Mister Taylor the senior will actually be there. Of all the things that have changed, she knows for a fact that Link’s relationship with his step-father will be the last to do so; the two men despise each other, and to have them in the same room, never mind sleeping in the same house, would take a genuine miracle! 

 Gossip is a sure compass though, and she’s only got to say his name before some shopkeeper or market vendor is pointing the way they last saw a blue scarf trailing. 

 It’s not long at all either before she sees it for herself. 

 There he is. Standing tall only a short distance from some stall or another, chatting away in an almost animated fashion with another man.  

 For a second, her feet stall, freezing. 

 He looks himself again. Gone are the heavy bags beneath his eyes, the near perpetual five-o'clock-shadow and scowl from too long hours in the office, too many nights in a bar. He’s clean shaven (but gosh does she miss his beard, patchy as it was!), combed but not coiffed, clean but not polished, a laugh on his lips and a scowl on his brow as he nudges at the man beside him. 

 A man who looks a shocking about like a certain best-friend she knows is dead, hair just a shade or so darker, with hints of auburn, but smile just as toothy and the voice that sounds in answer to her Link just as tinged with Ordon’s drawl. 

 For a minute, she has to shake herself and question if she hasn’t traveled back in time somehow. Except... except she can’t have, because the scars over his eyes aren’t familiar and the blue scarf is somethings he’s only seen once; when he came home. He’d not had that before, so she knows it can’t be the past 

 She sort of wishes it was though. It would certainly make this much easier. 

 Sablya steps towards the two men, lips parting even though she’s got no clue what she’s about to say. 

 And then they move. 

 It’s not far, just to another stall, but then the man who could be Gassun’s twin is stepping away and another, brown haired and with a near angelic smile on his lips, takes his place, trading softer words that earn kinder smiles and easier motions than the last. 

 It takes her a second to work up her nerve, but the moment she does, they’re drifting off again, and once more, another lad comes, though the second man stays, and a boy who she thinks she’s seen linger by her husband’s side before joins the conversation. 

  It keeps happening that way. She’ll be a second from stepping over, only to start and lose nerve when Link goes to speak to someone else. It’s annoying. She’s annoyed at herself and her own lack of nerve. Pities sakes, what would Mother and Father think o such behavior? What would her grandparents think? Bushka? They’ll all tell her to buck up and talk to her husband! So, with a huff and a heave and as strong of steps as she can manage considering she knows she’s wronged him, Sablya steps over. 

 And then her feet stop cold again, just an arm’s length away, as another figure glides over. 

 It’s not the fact that the person is there, not when she’s expecting it now, it’s the way their hand slips into the crook of Link’s arm with a familiarity none of the rest had shown. Its the way they turn to speak to him, drawing his gaze, something dark and dangerous deep in their own. It’s the fact that, unlike the rest who’d come and gone, the figure at Link’s side now wears a skirt and has the fine features of a woman, not a man. 

 “Darling,” the word is tense, the grip the same, but the dark stare that lifts past heavy lashes, pressing and pointed, has her heart catching up in her throat to see directed at her husband, “I fear I must ask your help.” 

 It’s nothing, she tries to assure herself It’s normal. Women throw themselves at her husband even with her at his side, they always have. He’s a good-looking man and an honest one too, and she’s never minded before that the world can see it. Now though, now after the war, after everything, after the sorceress, her gut still churns a bit. 

 She wants him to catch that nimble yet firm hand and tug it off, to step back and ask, in that not yet cold, but very much warning tone what it is that the lady wants. Because, beautiful though the creature on his arm is, enchanting as her gaze must be up close, what with how hypnotizing it nearly is from afar, he’s still a married man. He made a promise, and whether or not they’ve spoken in ages doesn’t change that. 

 Link’s brows furrow, and she’s ready to see the gentle push, but instead he leans in, just a bit closer, head down and whispers soft as he answers, nearly too low to be heard. “What happened this time?” Fervent, worried, attentive, not a bit of hesitation in his manner and gaze fixed solely on the vision beside him. 

 There’s a wince, the grip of that hand tightening and his coming to settle over the top, assuring, comforting, promising in motions she herself knows so well and hates to see granted to another. As though unawares though, the other woman goes on. “I fear our girls have gotten to mischief.” 

 Our girls? Surely, she doesn’t mean- 

 Link stiffens slightly, tensing in the shoulders. “All of them?” 

 A nod. “Five magics, all going mad, and believe it or not, dear captain, they’re scattered.” 

 Link sighs. That great, heavy sort of thing he won’t sound unless he’s truly comfortable in a person’s presence. It’s a sort of pride of his own, she’s often thought, that he won’t falter before any save those he trusts, and the implications of it sounding in the space between himself and this other woman makes her heart scream. “Why did we think this was a good idea?” 

 “Having kids?” The woman sighs in kind, “we didn’t. It happened, and now we have seven gremlins to mind and stop from destroying this city.” 

 “Let’s get to it then,” and he’s striking out a couple whispers late, parting now but with a wry smile that the other echoes, moving off in the other direction calmly as though trying her hardest not to attract attention. Link doing the same in the opposite direction, no doubt with direction from the dark-eyed lady on where to go. 

 She could follow him. 

 She could follow the lady, but desperately, she both does and doesn’t want that woman to know. There’s no ring on his hand, not with his profession being what it is, so, surely another woman might make a mistake. The fact of it is clear though; she is something to him, but the desperate hope that the lady didn’t know battles with the wish that Link has somehow been tricked, seduced by the siren’s song of that woman’s sweet voice, perhaps under the spell of the magic that drapes over her like a cloak. She wants to believe it’s not his fault, yet the idea of blaming the lady seems so wrong without knowing for sure. 

 She should follow him. 

 She should stalk after and drag him to the side, out of sight and earshot and demand to know what she just saw. Yes, they’re separated, but could he not do her the basic dignity of divorce if he was so set on starting again? She has her failings, and she’s aware that they’re significant, but regardless, that isn’t an excuse! 

 Or is it? Is she to blame? Was it her words and actions? 

 And yet, her feet move without though, mind spinning, there were children mentioned. Not one- seven. Seven children, and while certainly the lady looks young, she’d also said it happened by chance. No one in their right mind, not even Link with his bleeding heart for strays and street kids, would adopt or take on seven children. She knows he took two, in the war, under his wing. She knows she’d been bitter, thinking he was replacing their own lost little one with blonde-haired boys he hoped would fill a hole. 

  But seven? With a woman like that? And all old enough to wander, freely? To have magic? 

 The captain’s wife has the sinking feeling that such a thing wouldn’t be possible in the time since the war ended and their marriage had followed suit. Even if her words did somehow drive Link to break a vow, a promise, his own honor and her heart with it, the times wouldn’t match. 

 He’d have to have had met this woman long before, and the children- gods, is she the second woman? 

 Her mind spins and trips on itself, feet the same until she finds herself on a street she can’t name, ducking into the nearest ally to drop her head to her hands and breathe. 

 She can’t cry. She won’t cry. If she cries than she’ll never stop and- 

 “Are you okay, miss?” 

 Sablya starts, dashing what tears had escaped away and turning about to the source of the voice, finding a young figure before her. It could be a child, but then again, it might not be. Whatever they are, boy, girl, young or grown, they’re staring at her with warm amber eyes and a worried frown. 

 “Pardon?” 

 “You seem upset,” the short figure observes, blinking up at her slowly, gaze weighted more than it should be for so young a person. “is everything alright?” 

 She means to answer, to say she’s fine. Regardless of anything, she won’t be admitting her troubles or ruined marriage to a random stranger, but it’s at that very moment that Fate chooses to spit in her face and another figure darts around the corner on the far side of the alley, calling out. “Scarlet, luv, come along, your sister-” and the words cut off. 

 She stares. 

 The dark-eyed woman stares back. 

 Of all the chances, of all the people, she does not expect it to be the same lady as took her own husband’s arm with such certainty, but yet, here she is. Here she is, pretty and powerful, if not physically than at least with magic far exceeding Sablya’s own. 

 Link likes powerful women, she finds herself thinking, bitter. He likes strong women. He likes women who stand with confidence as the lady before her does now, even as confusion touches ethereal eyes. He likes women who entrance him, and no doubt, anyone would be so before this figure. 

 “Mama,” and oh gods, is this one of those seven? “I don’t think she’s okay.” 

 The strange lady steps forwards, magic reaching, cautious but gentle, eyes searching and ears flicking. “Are you hurt, miss?” 

 Her heart is irrevocably shattered into a million pieces, if that answers the question. 

 The sweet face of the strange, young yet world weary, and still somehow near regal despite tattered dress, creases up in a frown. “Is there anything we can help with?” 

 She wants to say yes. She wants to demand answers. She wants to whisper a plea to tell her it’s a lie, that she’s wrong, but in the same breath, she’s looking into the face of the younger, the child, her Link’s child, and wondering how on earth she could dare to shatter a second family after ruining her own. Does this kid deserve to be told something so terrible? Does this lady? Could she leave them in peace and let Link go on, happy as he’d looked beside them, weary but warm, himself again like he hasn’t been in forever? 

 As though to add insult to injury, the man in question himself rounds the corner a second later, four more children, near identical save the one’s dark hair, all on his heels. “I see you found Perri and Scarlette already, which is a blessing because-” the words die as he looks up from small figures to where she and the other woman stand, now both having turned. 

 Link’s eyes widen, feet stuttering as he draws up sharp. “Oh shit.” 

 “Language!” One of the kids pipes up, only for a sibling to slap a hand over their mouth. 

 She can’t move. 

 Link doesn’t seem to be able to either. 

 “You know her?” The lady asks. 

 Link’s gaze is heavier than the very sky and it’s every star, his words clipped and short. “That’s my wife.” 

 Dark eyes turn on her in a moment, now also wide. She expects a scream, a hiss, maybe tears exploding forth as they threaten to from her own soul, perhaps a fit of rage as magic snaps and growls. Instead though, the strange lady just sags, hands over her face and a heavy sigh seeming to carry her last breath intro the alleyway. “I hate my life.” 

 “Second that.”   

 “Well thanks,” and the sugar sweet tone is abruptly gone, the gentle manner lost as a scowl, so drastically different from the angelic expression before that it would almost be comedic if it wasn’t so confusing, is shot Link’s way. “Stick a knife in my heart yourself, why don’t you.” 

 “Vet!” 

 “A wife?” and there it is, “you didn’t think to say something?” 

 “What, like you would have believed me?” 

 “I procured you a fake wedding ring and- you know what, no,” hands fly up and the stranger, who is suddenly so much less gracious and gentle and is now a whole new person altogether, something that leaves Sablya floundering at the sight of, is turning to look at her. “You must be so confused.” 

 “Oh shit.” Link sounds again, more emphatic this time. 

 “Hi,” and the expression of exhaustion that joins an outstretched hand held her way nearly makes her feel ready to keel over herself, “I’m terribly sorry. I’m a friend of your horrid husband and I would like to assure you right here and now that I am not sleeping with him, nor will I ever.” 

 Link chokes. 

 Sablya stares. 

 The... lady(?) draws back, apparently realizing her hand won’t be taken and that Sablya herself might not be able to even properly think at the moment. “I can only imagine what you just saw, or are thinking, and because Link here is shit at explaining crap to do with anything in this regard, I’ll do the honors.” Words followed with a mutter to the ground of “someone kill me,” that, despite everything, she somehow doesn’t manage to take personally. 

 Which is how she ends up leading six strangers and her estranged husband back to her house and the privacy it offers, to be told a story around her kitchen table by a boy who looks like a goddess about how he, a wolf-man, and four of the five not actually children in the current company had accidentally convinced not only Castletown but the whole country, in multiple eras of history, that Link was married to a goddess and the father of seven children. 

 In short, it is not how she expected to finally sit down with her husband, but after the whirlwind she just suffered, it does ease some tension between them when the story ends and she finds herself breaking down into a hysteric combination of laughter and tears that leaves everyone else staring awkwardly and her own husband, her Link, her not a cheater and, in fact, still true to his word Link, trying his very best to help her calm down enough to breathe again. In all honesty, it’s almost all worth it. Especially when Link gives up talking and she finds him setting an arm around her shoulders instead. He’s all hesitant and slow, wary, but when she doesn’t push him off, he eases and, a second later, tugs her in close like he used to on grey afternoons before the fire. 

 They're both shaking. 

 She’s not sure if or when her hand will ever unwind from that blasted scarf of his, but, somehow, she doesn’t think it will happen before his head lifts from her shoulder. 

 Blessedly though, her husband’s friend sees fit to usher the rest out, leaving them alone. 

 It’s not how she planned to sit down and talk things out with Link, but if anything, this will most certainly make for an interesting story for him to tell someday. Once, of course, they’ve made up and a very, very long time has passed so that she can actually laugh at this all. A very long time indeed. 

 As long as he wants that time, that is. 

 She hopes he does. She doesn’t want it without him. 

[aokuro-san]

Regarding chapter 293 of Blue Lock… (Comment/Personal opinion)

Okay, I think… I have some things to say about this chapter ending because I see that, in general, the vast majority of fans are quite disappointed. However, I don't think that it's the author's fault (or the authors, in this case). The problem is our own emotionality (which is not a bad thing, but we have already seen that the author leans towards rational and logical decisions when playing a game). We have the point of view of ALL THE PLAYERS, and that, whether you like it or not, provokes a certain empathy in you (if you have it). But the authors DON'T GIVE A DAMN about this. It is said from the beginning: HERE THE IMPORTANT THING IS TO WIN. Nothing else matters (although for us IT IS NOT LIKE THAT, okay).

But going to the chapter…

Without a doubt, I would say that it is one of the most consistent mangas that I have read in a long time. And the mangakas know their characters perfectly and how they are going to act.

Oh, yes, I also wanted Ness to score. Or Kunigami. BUT BECAUSE I EMPATHIZE WITH WHAT THEY HAVE SUFFERED (especially Kaiser's mockery of Ness in front of Isagi… Ugh. I get pissed off just thinking about it. And look at how Kaiser has suffered too! But he is such a son of a bitch, that he doesn't deserve to win right now, honestly. Of the two, I think that Kaiser is a much worse player than Ness, honestly, and I think that Ness, without him, has more chances of getting ahead).

However, CHANGING IS NOT THAT EASY FOR EVERYONE. Isagi is the KING OF ADAPTABILITY, just as he has been defined in some panels (and he also loves to win -like Ego, haha- and he is quite a fighter and impulsive; a guy determined in his objective). And it is NATURAL that HE is the one who can most easily intercept a goal. Especially because, even though Ness tries, IT IS NOT THAT EASY TO GET OUT OF A CONTROL AND MANIPULATION THAT HAS LASTED FOR YEARS (from the beginning, Kaiser went after him to turn him into his subject…). But we EMPATHIZE, we feel BAD (I confess that I cried my eyes out -this is very hard for me, okay?- with the end of the U-20 because I wished with all my might that Rin would score… But it didn't happen. And it hurt like hell, haha, and I scored volume 17 with one point less just because of that, hahaha). That makes Isagi's goal take away from us, rather than add to us. Although it is LOGICAL and COHERENT that HE IS THE ONE TO SCORE THE GOAL OF ALL THOSE PRESENT (how this boy has improved, haha) due to his ALREADY DEMONSTRATED SKILLS (oh, and he is also quite manipulative -although I don't think he is one hundred percent aware of it-…).

Regarding PxG vs. Bastard München being the worst game of the League, blah blah… I don't agree at all. For me, this one and the one vs. Machine City HAVE BEEN AWESOME. I think the problem lies in the fact that reading the manga in one go is not the same as reading a chapter every X time. So you always have to keep that in mind when reading something published weekly in my opinion. Because if you read the game in one go, I'm pretty sure you'll see the epic battle that was created here, honestly (which is also logical, because we're facing the two best teams in the league and, whether you like it or not, that has influenced why it lasted so long: we're facing very good players (in general) who will give anything for the game… And it has been proven in spades).

On the other hand… I think that sometimes we forget that at one point in the game THERE WERE SEVERAL PEOPLE, including MYSELF, who wished ISAGI TO SCORE (which hadn't happened to me for a long time). And now that he's here… It tastes bitter. Like most of his goals. Because we can't stop thinking about the ones we thought deserved to score; because we have feelings, at the end of the day. But… would we win any game thinking like that? Would we score any goal? Let's think about it seriously, because that's what it poses. Sometimes the objectives of one, unintentionally (or not) crush the objectives of others. Because we can't all be the best. And that's what Blue Lock offers us. A great manga in my eyes.

Anyway… That's what I think, I hope there's PEACE in the comments, because the last time I said something about a manga here on Tumblr they got down on me a bit, hahaha.

Have a nice day!

[casualavocados]

Ai Di + english 😈🤬🤪

Chiang Tien as AI DI KISEKI: DEAR TO ME (2023) BONUS Chen Yi:

[cloudysarts]

imagine if the federation tried to make a phoenix with birdperson's daughter wouldn't that be fucked up hahaha < insane

like father like daughter.

(pr0/c0mship dni)

[msfcatlover]

I still think, to this day, that Naomi Herne almost had a very different statement.

I think that Evan Lukas was, in fact, a full-fledged Lonely avatar. But Evan's method was finding people who say they'd rather be alone, entering their lives as their perfect, ideal person (romantic or otherwise), involving them with his personal social circle, and then cutting them off. Letting them have a taste of what they were missing, enough to realize they could be happier, enough to realize just how alone they are, enough to show them how much better their life could be, before leaving them adrift exactly the same way they were before... but left so, so much more miserable now that they've lost all that. Made all the worse because they remember a time they would be perfectly content in these circumstances, but now it's not enough anymore, but they still don't have the confidence or social skills to go find friends of their own a lot of the time. The aspect of the Lonely that is realizing you've been lonely all along, a misery you didn't even recognize because you never knew anything else, and now your whole life looks like endless, rolling grey.

Evan started on Naomi. But then he fell in love. He couldn't follow through, he couldn't let her go. He loved her too much to hurt her. She made him want to stop, made him want to be better. Made him want to be as human as he could for the most wonderful person he'd ever had the good fortune to meet.

Made him finally, after years & years being raised a Lukas, not feel Lonely anymore. His own trap turned back on him.

And then he starved to death.

[eggsistential-basket]

thinking about the person i could have been if i tried a little harder to find my own way

[rose-tinted-nostalgia]

being told you don’t deserve kindness or empathy because you won’t fuck someone is so ridiculous you’d think it wouldn’t hurt to hear, but it does. it really fucking does.

[yaoianimeremade]

Soon im rly gonna do it

[comradecowplant]

so things are not going well with my new elderly socdem friend unfortunately.