#i used to be free to just fill this space up with stupid thoughts and the only ones who would have to read it were the ones that cared to

[bluespacebug]

i have to just start replying to posts. cramming a bunch of shit in the tags does nothing knowing that it’s not hidden anymore

[d1s1ntegrated]

Shigaraki is so pathetic he’s able to cum untouched just from kiss

shared seat (nsfw)

fem!reader x loser!shigaraki

cw: dacryphilia, premature ejaculation, mutual pining, desperation, cowgirl, multiple orgasms, no use of y/n (blank name space instead!!), tomura is a mega computer nerd, reader plays dumb kinda, some light hurt/comfort i guess?? making out, afab/fem reader, implied virgin shiggy :)

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•

naturally.

you have tomura in the palm of your hand. every time you walk by him, brush against him awkwardly, tap his shoulder to get his attention, it sends sparks through his touch-starved limbs and makes him dizzy. every night, he begs and pleads for you to come into his room, even just to sit in there. he wants you in whatever way he can, to see you, smell you, touch you, hear you. gods, of course he wants to taste you, but he's learned the hard way to take whatever he can get.

so when you knock on his door and ask him to teach you how to sort out your PC and mod a few games, his heart lurches in his chest. of course, of course he will. he trudges behind you to your bedroom, watching your ass jiggle lightly in the dingy sweatpants you stole from him a few months back. he takes a deep breath before sitting in your desk chair, immediately clicking through PILES of random trash files and download files.

"_______" he starts sternly, brow already furrowed at the sight. "have you not been deleting the download files after you download a mod?"

you shake your head. "won't that delete the mod?" you lean on your desk next to him, uncomfortably close to him. he smells the conditioner in your hair, your sweet perfume. he tightens his gloved grip on your mouse as he shakes his head and tidies your desktop up.

"fucking idiot" he mumbles as he clears a few gigabytes from the system, "this is why it's so slow, stupid". you giggle and mumble, "ohhhhhh" under your breath.

who's to say you didn't know that. who's to say you just wanted an excuse to have him in your room, huffing at your desk, having his scent fill the room and his frustrations cloud your thoughts. but he didn't have to know that.

he keeps clicking through folders, and you nudge the chair. he turns to face you and you mindlessly sit in his lap, telling him "let me in", spinning the chair back to face the desk.

his breath hitches as your plush ass presses against his dirty pajama pants and half-hardened cock. you watch the pointer on the screen as he sorts through different game files, his breathing unsteady in your ear. you giggle as he groans at the unnecessary folders and shortcuts.

"why...dude, what's with all the sims mods?" he asks, voice filled with genuine concern as he clicks into the mods folder. you panic and spring up, sending the chair back a bit with him still in it. your ass is directly in his face as you scramble, closing the folder.

tomura's eyes widen and he forgets the folder entirely for a moment as your shirt rides up, the small of your back exposed, the waistband of your underwear pulled slightly above the baggy sweats. he starts again and rolls his eyes.

"dipshit, just let me make sure there aren't duplicates, okay?" he pulls you by the waist into him again, your ass falling back onto him. he closes his eyes for a moment to regulate his thoughts.

the mods folder flashes back open. he scrolls through hundreds of mods, your body tensing as he pauses and reads through them all.

"what the hell are you doing to those poor sims" he laughs nervously as his cock grows tighter against you. you grimace as he closes out of it and goes into the save files folder.

he stops when he notices his name front and center, paired with yours.

he nods and stays silent, and you readjust in his lap. your eyes gloss over, unable to confront the clear tension between you two as you shift, his free arm lacing around your waist slowly, holding you tightly as he tries his best to hold back.

he closes out of the tabs and sits on the blank screen for a moment, clearing his throat.

"did...you need me to do anything else here?" he leans forward with you a bit, greedily inhaling your scent again as he awaits a response.

"hm...yeah, can you help me set my new speakers up? they won't connect for some reason." any excuse to keep him here.

"hmph. yeah, sure" he bites his lip and scoots the chair in, opening the program.

"they're plugged in, right?" he asks, and you nod.

"mhm, i'm not that dumb" you playfully lean back, your face all-too-close to his. he rolls his eyes and hums to himself as your weight presses more against him, and he's painfully trying to conceal how hard he is. if you don't stand, maybe you won't notice. he's so fucking close already, he's afraid any small movement will ruin it all.

you lean forward to turn the dial on the speaker and his breath hitches. he twitches in his pants and feels the moisture beading from his tip, hissing lowly to himself as you readjust again.

"jesus, _________. can you figure your shit out" he snips, and you laugh. he groans as he twitches again, dangerously close to finishing right here.

"sorry" your words come out as a whisper as he grips you closer now, his fingers tracing the exposed skin under your shirt as he fiddles around with the settings. you smile as he touches you.

you take it one step too far when you scoot back into him, using his thigh to steady yourself. as you grind into him, he loses control and feels himself cumming sporadically in his fleecy pants. he shakes against you, his head falling into your shoulder as he crumbles underneath you. he nearly crushes your brand new mouse as his hands clench, his uncovered fingers digging into your midriff. he shakes as you feel the moisture seeping from the material, leaking onto the back of your own pants. you don't dare to speak a word, you refuse to ruin it for him.

you go to look at him, but his head is still pressed against your shoulder, his baby blue hair draped over you. his breathing is slowing now, but he's still shaking.

"i'm sorry" he shudders before you can say anything. you grab his hand, still slung across your legs, and squeeze it.

"tomu, it's okay" you comfort him quietly as he continues to shake. you stand and he plants his face into his hands, soft tremors coming from the pale man.

you flip the armrests of the chair up and wrap your legs around him, facing him now. you stroke his hair gently and coax him to look up, his cherry eyes teary and glossed.

you kiss him gently, feeling the tears still running down his cheek. his lips are rough, but they taste like candied apples, and you hold his face in your hands as he falls into the kiss shakily.

as you pull away, he sniffles.

"i'm sorry" he repeats, and looks back down.

you kiss his head, his soft hair tickling your face. he wraps his arms around you and presses his face into you, his tears soaking the front of your shirt. you shush him and brush his hair back. you comfort him best as possible, but feel him hardening underneath you again.

"c'mon" you stand from the seat again, and take his hand. you bring him to the bed, and he sits slowly. you wipe the tears from his cheeks, and he shakes his head.

"why?" he asks quietly, and you kiss his nose, "why aren't you mad at me?".

you tug him into you, kissing him. he moans into the kiss this time, his cock tenting again. your mind swirls with thoughts of him inside of you, making him shiver and cum and whine. why would you be mad at him, your sweet pathetic leader?

no one else would ever see him like this. maybe it played a part in your arousal, knowing that this display was solely for you. that his orgasm was because of you. that he was crying because he was afraid he upset you. your scary, villainous, domineering leader was crying in your room, cock twitching desperately against his minecraft pj pants, because he just came from you sitting in his lap.

the heat between your legs swells as your tongue presses into his mouth, tasting the same sugary sourness from before. his tongue slides forcefully into your mouth, his saliva mixing with yours. he palms aggressively at his erection, trying to push it down nervously before you tug him by his sweater, pulling him on top of you. he instinctively grinds down into you, and as you feel him press against your clothed sex, you moan.

the heavy petting stresses you out. you can't keep kissing him and touching him without feeling him inside of you. tomura's eyes are half-lidded and hungry as you shove him back, and he looks at you nervously for a moment before you pull your pants off, urging him to do the same. he throws the pants off the bed, his cock springing free and tapping against his stomach. the knot in your stomach pulls deeper as you gaze upon the soft sky-blue tuft of hair leading down to his dick, his breathing ragged as you pull yourself on top of him again. you grind down, and he moans as the wetness soaking through your underwear squishes on his admirable length.

he's ready to cum again already, and you can tell from the way he grinds into you from below. you shift your underwear off, awkwardly shimmying as he helps you. he doesn't seem to care as he tugs at the garment, his hands exploring your curves with a greedy grip. as his cock rubs against you, you kiss him, coating him with the slick heat. you help position him against your tight hole, and he thrusts it in, stretching you with a snap. you throw your head back from the sensation and steady yourself for a moment before rocking back and forth, his moans and huffs growing louder. you ride him slowly at first, helping you adjust to his size, and he watches you bounce on him with a feverish daze. he grabs at your shirt and you allow him to bring it up over you, throwing it mindlessly. his hoodie comes off next, yanking haphazardly as you continue to grind and bounce on him. he bites his lip as he cums again, not holding anything back as the sticky seed coats your insides. you don't stop, feeling yourself growing closer. his orgasm brings you even further, and you gyrate your hips against him, his soft hair creating a friction against your clit that is fucking unimaginable. you moan and cry out, chasing the orgasm. you squeeze against him, the searing pain from being stretched before now replaced by a deep craving from the pit of your sex, needing more and more of him to fill you up. his pitiful whining grows in volume as his cock re-hardens inside of you quickly, and his hands grip against your hips and he thrusts from below as you slam down into him, furthering the sensation as his tip nudges your cervix. as you both rock into each other, your climax rushes over you, flooding his cock with a deep heat that sends him over the edge for the third time. tears brim his eyes again as he sprays your cunt with more pearly fluid, and your body shakes as you clench and rub the end of your orgasm out on him. your chest heaves as you both finish, and you fall on top of him with his dick still throbbing inside of you. he whines out and kisses you, tangling his fingers in your hair. the aftershock of your orgasm sends shivers through your body, and you pull yourself off of him. you already miss the feeling of him stuffing you with his cock, but he's spent. he shakes and squeezes his eyes shut, his legs and arms splayed out, vibrating.

you kiss his cheek and reach for something to help him clean up. you grab your shirt and wipe him off, and he frowns.

"didn't have to do that" he chokes out, and you shrug.

"i could never be mad at you, tomura" you say to him as you find clean clothes. as you dress, he drags a blanket over himself.

he nods and doesn't speak again for a moment. you climb in next to him, and he smiles weakly.

"promise?"

you nod. "pinky promise" you lace your fingers with his, the gloves brushing against your soft skin.

the two of you lay together in silence, growing more and more tired with each passing minute. you won't send him back to his room, you'd rather keep him here as long as possible. even if it was left unsaid, you loved him, and you spent every day worrying which day might just be the last. especially with the league growing in infamy, the unknown became scarier every day. but for right now, it felt more than okay. and for right now, you'd rather spend the time with him like this than having to worry about your futures.

"so what's up with that save file on the sims?" his voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you groan.

"i think the next thing im gonna ask you how to teach me is hiding folders".

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

thank you for the ask <3 yummy yummy suggestion!!!!!! ���🩷🩷

[sharksnshakes]

Night Out - Tim Drake

image source: batboyblog on tumblr

When out at a dive bar with your friends, you step outside for a breath of fresh air and run into the Red Robin. For some reason, he seems... familiar?

AN; writers block is brutal and disgusting and horrible. also. i am suffering from batfamily brainrot so expect more of this (part two can be found here!)

Wordcount; 787

TW; some cursing, mentions of drinking

It's a damp spring night when you meet the Red Robin. You're out with your friends at some college dive bar on the East Side. The area's a far cry from Gotham U's campus, but with free entry and cheap drinks, it's worth the elevated risk of mugging.

"Besides," one of your friends had declared on the way to the bar, "It just means we're more likely to see Nightwing's hot ass."

You're pretty sure the dark-haired vigilante operates exclusively in Bludhaven these days, but you're not a party pooper.

The music was good, the crowd was fun, but a small room of drunk co-eds had a way of heating up quicker than Firefly's flamethrower, and so you'd retreated out the side door for a breath of fresh air. You weren't stupid; you'd taken your small can of mace with you. This was Gotham, after all.

The alleyway was blissfully empty, save for a dumpster--quite the relief, seeing as the last time you'd been here, you'd stumbled upon a couple deep in the throes of a heated make out session. Taking a breath, you leaned up against the cool bricks in the alleyway and let yourself decompress.

"There's definitely better places to hang out around here than dark alleys," a voice says from somewhere behind you.

Living in the city has taught you many things. Most importantly, how to turn off potential predators by acting downright crazier than they do.

You spin on your heel and hold the mace like it's a pistol, coming face-to-face with none other than--

"Holy shit, you're Robin," you gasp, eyes widening.

Thank god you didn't actually mace him.

"That I am," he says, warily eyeing the can in your hand.

"Like... the Red Robin," you continue. You're blinking at him, openly gaping, and it occurs to you that you should probably stop pointing the can at his eyes. You stow the makeshift weapon in your back pocket. "I'm so sorry! I thought you were a mugger or something!"

"Hey, it's fine," he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "If it's any consolation, you definitely would've scared the shit out of a mugger."

You laugh, but it's mostly in disbelief. Red Robin is standing mere feet away from you, domino mask and yellow cloak and green pants and all, and you're suddenly very thankful you'd gotten dressed up to go out tonight. For a split second, you swear you see him give you a quick once over. But no, there's no way Robin's checking you out.

He glances around the alleyway for a moment, almost awkwardly, before speaking again. "...Any reason you're out here?"

"I'm out with my friends," you say, motioning to the building behind you, where the bar's logo is printed in peeling white vinyl. "Needed some air. Somehow, smoke and asthma don't make a good combination," you joke.

"Can't imagine why," he grins, and holy shit Red Robin thinks you're funny.

"You got any fun, exciting plans tonight?"

He hesitates.

"Wait, you don't have to answer. I know, top secret Batman stuff--"

"Nah, not that secret." It's dark in the alleyway so maybe you're not seeing things right, but you swear you can see a hint of color rising to his cheeks. "Just patrolling. Y'know. Keeping an eye out for muggers and mace-wielding asthmatics."

You laugh. "Sounds boring."

"Definitely could use a drink." He glances at the side door with an unreadable expression.

"Rough start to the night?"

"You could say that."

A brief silence stretches between the two of you. Traffic and the faint pounding of the bar's music fill the space, and for some reason, despite never having met Robin and likely never meeting him again, it feels... almost familiar.

"Hey, if it makes you feel any better, you're not the only one stuck at work tonight. One of my best friends, Tim, had to bail last minute since he's got an exam to study for. So, like, you're not suffering alone!" you add, thinking back to the guy you've kind of been maybe having romantic feelings for lately.

Robin chokes.

"Shit, you okay? Need me to, like, slap you on the back or something?"

"Nope," he says, voice raspy.

"You're sure?"

"Positive." He gives you an awkward thumbs-up.

"I should probably let you get back to work, then," you sigh, turning back to the side door and grasping the handle. "And I should get back in there. Don't need my friends worried about me."

When you turn back around, it's just you and the dumpster.

"Fuckin' impressive," you mutter to nobody but yourself. "See ya, Robin."

You step back inside. The door closes behind you and... fuck.

You forgot to ask for a picture.

[queenie-avenue]

Charming Demon Belle!

—> he expresses interest in you.

⤻ reader is female, reader's race/animal theme is not specified, reader is a bit insecure, alastor is a semi-sweetheart in this one, fluff, no canon-typical violence, dancing but it's not jazz *gasp*

notes: this fic was honestly a bit rushed, but i do really love alastor as a character and really wanted to write a fic for him but i currently do not have the time to invest in one idea i have for a longform fic so here's something small. feel free to post asks for alastor, or any other hazbin character, i would love to write your ideas!

💌 ⤻ archives.

You had been at the Hotel for a few months now, working on those trust exercises that Charlie persuaded — forced — you to join in. You loved the girl, but you found her methods to be a bit too idealistic at times. Especially since during your time as a human, you saw just how cruel life could actually be.

Still, you joined in because you came to love the girl. You came to love the rest of the staff and visitors too.

Whenever you came back to the Hotel after a long day of doing whatever, there Husker was with your favourite cocktail or Angel would be there to crack his stupid jokes and innuendos that would always make you huff out a laugh no matter how tired you were. Vaggie was a fun person to be around. There was quite a bit of anger in her, but you couldn't help but like how assertive she could be. You honestly admired her for being such a strong woman, something you thought you could never be. Charlie was just a ray of sunshine and though Nifty was weird, you found her almost endearing, just like Sir Pentious and his nerdy displays.

There was one person you could never calm yourself around though and it was the host of the Hotel.

Alastor, the Radio Demon.

Perhaps it was his reputation that made you feel so uncomfortable around him, but you refrained from speaking to him as much as you could. Those eyes and that never-ending smile seemed to follow you wherever you went, though, and you found that wherever you went, he was there just waiting.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

The Hotel was practically empty by the time afternoon hit. Husk was out getting more things for the bar alongside Nifty, who needed to buy more materials for cleaning. Angel Dust was at work. Charlie and Vaggie seemed to be on a date, of some sorts, encouraged by you as they seemed to be rather stressed these few days because of the upcoming Extermination.

As for Alastor... probably up in his radio tower.

And for you? You were lounging on the couch in the lobby of the hotel, scrolling through various television channels and hoping to find one that would entertain you for long enough.

"Hello, my dear!" The static-filled voice almost made you fall off the couch as you looked up to see the Radio Demon standing over you. "What are you doing?" Alastor inquired, looking at you before his gaze shifted to the TV in front of you, his eyes narrowing in what appeared to be annoyance. "Oh, you're watching a picture box, how quaint." He attempted to remain cordial in his speech, but it was clear he wanted to wreck that television.

He reached for the remote and pressed a few buttons. "What are you doing?" This time, it was your turn to question him.

"Turning off this pesky little thing, dear! You know, too much of this," he pointed his cane at the TV, "rots your brain!" He chuckled as he finally pressed the correct button to turn it off.

"You should get off the couch and get some exercise. Today is far too nice of a day to be wasted on such idle activities." He grinned wider as he his clawed hands grabbed yours and dragged you up.

"H-hey!" You yelled, shocked by the sudden touch. Despite the fact Alastor hated someone invading his personal space, he seemed to love to invade others.

"I know you don't like to exercise, so I have come up with a rather fun activity for us to partake in." Your eyes widened at his words. What in Hell's name did he mean by that? You had seen what Alastor viewed as 'fun' and you were now worried. He snapped his fingers as he dragged you to the middle of the lobby, a radio materialising on the bar desk as it began to loudly play some jazz music. "Some dancing ought to do the trick." He smiled.

"Um, Alastor." You peeped, "I'm glad you want to do an... activity with me. But I don't know how to dance. Let alone dance for some jazz music." You grinned awkwardly up at him as he looked down at you and tutted his lips.

"Ah, no worries." He grinned as he snapped his fingers again, causing the music on the radio to shift from jazz to classical. "We can start slow, of course. I could never force a lady to do something she didn't like." Well, that was ironic, considering what he was doing now.

"Hold on." He grinned as he grabbed your waist, using his other hand to guide yours to his shoulders. Without being able to respond, he dragged you across the floor.

"One, and a two. One and a two." He demonstrated how his feet moved about the floor, forcing you to follow against his steps as he swirled you about the hall. "See, you're already getting a hang of it." You couldn't help but smile at his words.

"Heh, yeah I guess I am." You grew more relaxed as you looked up at Alastor and his toothy grin and ash face.

He grinned wider. "I'm so glad that you are starting to feel comfortable around me, my darling." He expressed as he spun you around. "I was simply so hurt when I saw you interacting with the others but not me." He pulled you closer to his chest, "Might I ask why?" Alastor asked, the static filter on his voice disappearing slightly to reveal his human voice.

"I guess we just have personality clashes?" You tried to lie, not wanting to admit that you were intimidated and scared witless thanks to this demon, especially with the way he stalked you in the shadows at times.

"Haha!" He laughed comically. "My, what an intriguing assumption, my dear Belle!" He exclaimed as he spun you around and dipped you down. "I think we have more in common than you think."

"Like what?" You gasped out as he held you down, your hair brushing against the floor as you gazed up at him.

"Well, we're both sinners."

You deadpanned at his explanation. "That's it?"

"Well, there's certainly more, but why not leave it up for us to discover?" He suggested with a grin before pulling you up, slamming your face into his chest. Alastor gripped your chin in his sharp hands, his smile growing more sinister.

"I would certainly love to know more about you." His smile grew brighter, his eyes glimmering with a hint of intrigue and desire.

Shit, somehow that was the only thought running through your mind.

[munariplans]

YES PLEASE WRITE ABOUT THAT

the second i heard about all the merch nat had amassed i thought about what readers reaction would be if they would think its sweet or tease her or make fun of how she most definitely got ripped off for most of them but will now get them free (and the most important signature of all going on the marriage certificate duh)

But it also made me think what about readers 🤔

In my head reader has all of nat’s articles printed out some even framed

synopsis: just a short one-shot / drabble based on the cute request above!

read the original forty, love.

natasha romanoff x tennis player! reader

word count: 1.9k words

it had been a spontaneous decision; natasha inviting you back to her apartment. the both of you were more than slightly tipsy at that point, and you were in no condition to drive back home. luckily, or not, the bar had been right by her place, and within walking distance of her way home.

natasha thanked her lucky stars that she had liquid courage fuelling her bravery, as she asked, “do you just want to go back to my place?”

at your surprised glance, she laughed, and slapped you on the shoulder. “n-not anything weird, i promise. you will take the couch, and i will be very cosy in my bedroom.” 

you were holding her up by then, and the smirk on your face was so teasing, so smug for a moment, that natasha had to remind herself that she was drunk, and it was wrong to kiss a friend. a friend she very much had a deep history with, a friend that she wouldn’t want to stay just friends with.

“okay, lead the way, ms. romanoff,” you gestured out of the bar, and natasha and you leaned against each other the whole walk home, in the freezing temperatures of new york in winter.

it was only when she had let the both of you in through the threshold of her space, and cursed drunkenly as she tried removing her thick socks, that she noticed you weren’t by her side anymore. and you weren’t as drunk as she had been when you left the bar.

natasha heard a snicker, and when she turned to see you crouching over the television stand, her heartbeat began to raise in embarrassment and her palms cold. 

she was across the room in the next moment, screaming, “no, no! don’t look at that!”

but you were quicker, and you caught her right as she tried to block your view of the rows and rows of memorabilia that she had of you, carefully curated and collected over the years. her flailing arms trying desperately to release herself from your hold and swipe the memorabilia off of the stand and out of your memory. 

then, she heard your laughter. a hearty, amused rumble from the depths of your chest, ringing against her ears as you laughed, and laughed, at her embarrassment and the blatant obsession over your career that she had followed through the years. “oh, natasha, my natasha.”

if she even had half her mind right on trying not to make her cheeks any redder, she would have blushed at the proclamation of you calling her yours. but you were already kneeling back down to eye level with the memorabilia then, inspecting each one with amusement, and slight fondness, in your eyes. she began right after your qualification for the Australian Open, while you were still in college, but broken up. 

natasha decided it was pointless trying to stop you, and simply resigned and fell flat on the couch behind her, sighing until you had your fill.

“this was from years ago!” you picked out a ball that had been used for your final round in the qualifiers, and natasha threw her arm over her eyes. 

“i know.”

you picked out a cap this time, “i remembered signing only about ten of these to give out to fans during the festive season.”

“i know. i signed up for your team’s emailers, lucky draws, even bought your stupid posters and water bottles, anything, to get a chance of winning that thing.”

you let out another grin, and while she couldn’t see you, you let your eyes soften at the fact that she had done so much to support you, and you hadn’t realised. all these years. it made everything a little bit of a shame; the lost time and wasted efforts.

finally, you took a row of little figurines of your racket designs over the years, neatly arranged and kept in an acrylic casing. “nat, you could start a museum about me at this rate.”

“oh, shut up!” she shot up this time, trying to wrench it out of your grasp, but you pulled away, giggling at her cheeks reddening again. 

“seriously, how much have you spent on all this? must’ve cost you thousands, i’m a really expensive player,” you gave her a cheeky grin, and she took your cheeks in between her fingers, pinching as hard as she could. you yelped in pain as you jumped back, “ouch!”

“i hate you, i hate you so much.”

you rolled her over, grabbing a marker that you had spotted lying nearby, and immediately taking her arm to sign on it. she tried to bite you this time, but you managed to escape just in time. “your collection seems to say otherwise.”

that night, the proposition for you to sleep on the couch and her in her own bedroom was quickly forgotten; as the both of you ended up play fighting all the way until you landed on her bed. natasha pointed you out on it, but you were adamant, and pulling the covers over the both of  you, exhausted from the bar and natasha’s punches, you sighed happily. “too late, i’m here now. bed’s too warm.”

she grumbled that she hated you once more, as she came in closer and slung her arm over your midriff to pull you close, under the guise of still being cold. you decided not to point out that her limbs were practically tangled with yours in the morning, head on your chest as she slept as peacefully as a child who had just gotten their first tennis ball signed by you in a tournament.

it was only years later, when you tried to point it out on the day of registering your marriage, had natasha threatened you sleeping on the couch in your shared apartment again. this time, you knew she meant business; and the threat was most likely real, so you shut up quickly and followed her into the registry.

while you signed the certificate beside her, she caught you stifling a laugh again, and jabbed your side to ask you what it was about. 

“nothing.”

“tell. me,” she glared at you, “or i’m not signing that thing.”

your eyes twinkled with amusement, you looked so entertained by your own memory. “j-just…i was just thinking…how much the you in the past would have paid for this signature right here, on this certificate. you were my number 1 collector and fan, of course.”

the witness couldn’t control his own chuckles, seeing natasha pull you in by the ear and scolding you for teasing her until her whole body turned red with shame.

afterwards, however, when the two of you were alone, did she finally admit, “i still am your number 1 collector and fan. don’t you ever forget that, or try to replace me.”

– 

but natasha had her own arsenal of materials to make fun of you for your obsession with her too, of course. while you hadn’t had memorabilia or kept up with her over the years with no contact, that was a problem that was quickly alleviated once you learnt of natasha’s full-time job as a reporter and editor.

the next match natasha came to after your first grand slam win, your manager had asked her how her day at the office the previous night went, and while taken aback, he sheepishly admitted that you had asked him to, and to make sure she was comfortable at the seats. she had first chalked it up to a lucky coincidence that you knew she was on the news yesterday, reporting on a recent economic trend that hit the country. 

then, it was all debunked when you came to her later, and while distracted with fans that were coming up to you at your hotel, you had left your phone unattended at the bar with natasha. it wasn’t really her fault you received a ping from a message then, to reveal your lockscreen had been changed to one of a scheduling sheet. upon closer inspection, it had been natasha’s schedule sheet, of when she would be on air for the month, complete with the locations and timings that the firm had published for her. she presumed the ones in red highlights were when you had your matches, and true enough, they were, when she found your manager helping to record a segment of her news portions one day, and having to admit to her that you had asked him to so you could watch her after to destress. she could hardly control the butterflies that erupted in her belly at the confession. 

when the both of you had gotten closer and you would spend some dinners and mornings at her place, natasha would find that you had even pinned her as the top editor in the morning news you would read, always reading what she had published first before anyone else, as if her writing was your morning coffee. she chose not to say anything of it, silently gleaming at the fact that you paid so much attention to what she wrote.

you would often say, “i really liked that piece, the one on the impacts of artificial intelligence in sports,” or some other topic that she would have written, and point out your own thoughts on her piece. it was like having her own personal editor, with no judgments, no criticism. just love for what she had put out, and validation for her work. natasha was glad she had a supporter so ardent as you had yours.

and when the two of you had officially gotten together, natasha once received a text from your best friend during your match, while she was at work, and sighed at the opportunity that she had missed. however, when she did open up the text, it gave access to a video that said best friend had recorded, and there you were, in your dressing room before the match, crouched over the small television set there was, watching her cover the daily news like it had been an action movie. you paid attention to every word, eyes following her as she moved around like an entranced puppy, and when you had to get up and leave, natasha saw you leaning close and pressing a kiss from your fingers to the screen where she was, in replacement of the lips you couldn’t kiss in real life then, and she couldn’t control her burst of laughter. you had to know about this, at the very least.

you physically recoiled and clamped your eyes shut in embarrassment when you saw the video yourself, natasha still fighting hard to control the chuckles coming out of her, and you begging for her to delete whatever you had just seen. “nat, please, please!”

“no, this is hilarious!” she said between fits, “you are hilarious. is this your pre-match ritual, baby?”

“it is not! n-no, i can’t have anyone else see me like this, i can’t have the public see me like this,” you tried to wrestle her off for the phone, but only half-heartedly, because natasha was never in a million years going to let you delete it. 

“oh relax, it’s only going to leak if you really, really piss me off one day, or if this phone gets hacked,” she replied, eyes still dancing in amusement as you hid your face in your hands, shaking your head in shame. “it’s kind of sweet, i must admit.”

you pouted at her. “promise me it’s not going anywhere. promise me you won’t send it to anyone else.”

she interlaced her pinky with yours, “i promise.”

natasha had already sent the video to your manager, however, and allowed you to become the laughing stock of your team just days after that match occurred.

[ya-zz]

This was supposed to be a drabble... Take it, considering I haven't uploaded a fic in awhile, plus I really enjoyed writing this. Kudos to @yore-donatsu for the prompt! || Small headcanon on Rama: When in Nemesis, he can only use one pair of arms at a time. Imagine him in a situation where his Nemessis arms are stuck (and he can't free himself because otherwise he's in trouble) and he's swinging a stupid “I'm stuck” ||

Ramattra x Reader

Word Count: 1705

The sound of Ramattra turning to his nemesis form no longer startles you, being around him for several months now, it became a somewhat normal sound to hear alongside the usual day to day chaos. Of course, the only time you would hear him turn was when he was furious, using his larger form to threaten those around him. 

Then of course, there were the times he would use it to protect you from unwanted intruders or threats; his arms would encase you in a slightly uncomfortable but protective grasp. 

Though, this time, there was no fuzzy static that usually fades into the air when he finally comes back to his normal form. Instead, his voice rings out from across the room, pulling you out of the meditation you were under. 

“I require assistance, urgently.”

With a semi-irritated sigh, you stand and turn only to face Ramattra who was stuck near his workbench. He stares at you, circuits burning in an embarrassed flush as he watches you approach cautiously. I am not hearing the end of this, he thought.

“I may have miscalculated the space around me.” He says, nemesis arms tangled in a mass of wires. 

“How on earth did you manage that?” 

“Do not question me. Help me.” You could hear the authority in his tone. 

With a scoff, you respond, “You have other arms.” You point to the ones crossed at his chest. 

“I-“ His vocaliser cuts off, a click to reset before he speaks again. “I cannot use them in this form.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. “You’re joking.” 

“I am not.” 

“Ramattra-�� 

“Please. I cannot free myself.” Desperation follows. 

Another thought crosses your mind, causing you to smirk which the omnic picks up on immediately. 

“Do not get any ideas.” His tone lowers, threatening you. The embarrassment was already too much to handle and he sure as hello asn’t in the mood to play.

“Oh, but why not? You look so… vulnerable all tangled up.” 

Ramattra watches your face, searching for any mischievous glint as your hands glide up his arms, resting them on his shoulders before your fingers trail up his neck. You feel the hum of his body at your fingertips as you lean up and plant a playful kiss where white meets purple. 

“Remove these wires immediately.” The omnic before you lowers his head slightly as he makes his demands. His larger arms tense, fists clenching among the wires as his irritation grows.

“What if I don’t?” You tease. 

“Quit playing.” Ramattra’s tone darkens, his nemesis fingers twitching. “Untangle me this instant.” 

You could hear the rising frustration in his voice. Rolling your eyes, you back down. “Okay, okay. Just stay still.”

The embarrassment that Ramattra was feeling didn’t subside, no matter how careful and soft your hands were. His fans whir loudly, puffs of steam leaving the vents in his back as you work on freeing him. He focuses on the way you touch him, though he cannot feel much, a project for a later date, it calms him somewhat. You were always so gentle with his body, not wanting to damage him as spare parts were scarce. 

Fingers would tease their way under the wires that had wrapped tightly around the metal before being tugged away, looping under and over another wire. Some of them were easy to remove, only needing a small pull to free it before letting it drop to the floor. The ones that were not budging needed that little extra strength to loosen them. There was a near silence that filled the room, neither one talking. The only noises were the clattering of wires as they fell to the floor and the omnics chassis humming. Soon enough, the pile of wires on the floor grew and one of his arms was slowly freed.  

“Why can’t you move your other arms?” You question to break the silence. 

“It will overload my systems. It is already a difficult task keeping this form up. You have seen that I can only stay like this for so long before I revert back to my usual state.” Ramattra states, matter-of-factly. 

“Ah, so you can’t multitask.” 

“That-“ He lets out an irritated sigh. “You are insufferable, you know that?” 

“I will leave you here.” You yank a wire that pulls him down with a grunt. 

He shoots you a glare in return, optical aperture shifting. “Do not.”

“Then be nice, otherwise, you can stay here longer.” Another wire joins the pile on the floor. “You need better cable management.” 

Ramattra scoffs, head tilting away from you. “My cables are fine.” 

You flick him on the neck, where he can feel it. “You know what I mean.”

He grumbles, muttering something in omnicode as one of his nemesis arms falls limp. Ramattra watches as you move to his other arm, starting to detangle the wires that had wrapped around it. It was the same process, the tighter wires needed more thought and the loose ones only a simple pull. You were careful, not wanting to scratch the metal that made up his arms. This arm was held a little higher due to the weight of his other one pulling him down at an angle. Standing on your toes, you wobble, though Ramattra wouldn’t be able to catch you if you did fall. 

You mumble to yourself, shaking from the stress of freeing him. “Next time, I am exploiting this scenario.” 

“There will not be a next time.” Ramattra’s tone darkens slightly as he responds, your mumble not going unheard. He huffs, vocaliser clicking to reset. “I am not embarrassing myself by letting this happen again.” 

“Oh? You’re embarrassed? Because you’ve had to ask for help from a human?” You smirk, knowing exactly the reaction you’ll get out of him. 

The omnic grunts, nemesis fist clenching tightly that you hear the metal scratching against each other. There goes that plan of not damaging his exterior… 

“Watch it, pet. You will not like the outcome.” 

The moment his arm is free from its restraints, the larger of his hands grab at your waist, pushing you against the wall. 

The sudden motion catches you off guard, a startled gasp escaping your throat as your back hits the concrete. You watch as the fingers of his normal form twitch against his arms. He’s losing restraint. 

Ramattra stares down at you, optics scanning your features. His head cocks to the side as he speaks; “perhaps another time I will give you want you want.” There was a playful tint to his tone, He knows how to rile you up in all the right ways.

His shadow looms over you, but you weren’t scared. Despite his intimidating stature, you knew who he was. He was your partner, his threats never meant any harm to you, half the time you never took him seriously anyway. You knew that behind his ‘threatening’ demeanour, he was nothing but a sweetheart. He had a soft sport for you and only you. You were special to him and he always made sure that you knew that.

“Perhaps next time you’ll have control over both sets of arms- ow!” Ramattra squeezes you slightly, not enough to cause serious harm, but as a warning. 

Before he has a chance to speak, the air around the both of you grows fuzzy, a slight static tickling your arms before he transforms back to his normal state. 

The larger hands had left your sides, small indentations litter your back and stomach from the sharp edges of his fingers, the cloth of your shirt not being enough protection from his grasp. 

“You are lucky I cannot hold that form for long.” He states, leaning down towards you. A chuckle escapes his vocaliser as he places his hands on your sides. They were softer, smaller, than his other hands. 

Ramattra pulls you flush against him, pressing his body into yours. “Thank you.” He is gentle in his normal form.

Bringing your own hands up, you hold him back, fingers trailing the metal braces that travel from his chest to his back before finally resting them just above the top most brace. 

You smile, leaning your head against his. “Anything for you.”

Ramattra hums softly, his hands travelling up your back. His sensors pick up the change in heart rate and the way your body relaxes against his. You’re warm against him and he finds himself feeling at home in your arms. 

“I will clean up.” He states, pulling away from you. 

“Let me help-” “You have done enough. Let me.” He chuckles, moving away to pick up the cables on the floor. He’s quick to coil them up, tying them together before putting them into a box. “I owe you for freeing me.” 

“You owe me nothing. It was a simple mistake.” You reassure him, not wanting anything in return. Watching him, you note he’s cautious of how they are placed. “You are being careful, why?”

He hesitates, holding the box in hand before sliding it under the workbench. “An old habit from the monastery.” 

You nod in understanding, approaching him quietly. You slide your hands around his waist, pressing your head against his back. His inner workings hum louder, your motion catching him off guard. 

“Do you miss it? The monastery, I mean?”

“Yes.” He replies solemnly. “But I cannot change what happened.” 

“If it any consolation, I’m glad that you’re here, Ramattra.” 

He places his hands on top of yours, thumb rubbing across your knuckles. “As am I.”

The room falls silent as you hold him. It was a touchy subject, one you never pressed. He would tell you in his own time. 

“Come on. It is getting late.” He finally speaks out. The omnic turns to face you, grabbing your hands and holding them. 

You smile up at him, enjoying the intimate moment you’re sharing. “I do not want to leave just yet.” Your voice was quiet as you stare at his hands.

He hums, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.  “Then we can stay here until you are ready to go.” 

“I would like that.” You almost whisper in response.

Ramattra tilts his head, cupping your cheek in his hand. 

“Then together we shall stay.” 

[hintsofhoney]

His Favorite Meal

Pairing(s): Rhysand x F!Reader

Summary: Rhysand hears your dirty thoughts while you're at dinner with your friends. It goes as expected.

Square(s) Filled: free space for @anyfandomgoesbingo

Tags: 18+, smutty smut smut, oral sex (female receiving), light dom/sub dynamics, use of magic, p in v, unprotected sex, light spanking

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Hi, I just finished A Court of Mist and Fury and this is my new hyperfixation now. Funnily enough, I wrote this before I got to any kinds of sex scenes between Rhys and Feyre, and when I did finally get to Chapter 55, I was impressed with myself for how close to canon I wrote this 🤣 Anywho, I hope you enjoy!

You can also read me on Ao3!

MAIN MASTERLIST

You can’t stop thinking about him, not for lack of trying.

Rhysand and his stupid dark hair and violet eyes and the way the word darling rolls off his tongue and makes your thighs clench. 

You would even let him take you here and now, if it meant that the thoughts of him would subside.

He raises his eyebrows at you from across the table, Mor and Az and Cassian too caught up in their own conversation to notice. 

Really? Right on this table? With everyone watching? he sends down the bond. 

You shoot him a cold glare. Get out of my head.

If you didn’t want me in it, Y/N, darling, I wouldn’t be.

He isn’t wrong. You both know it.

I can make them leave, if the table is truly where you’d like me to fuck you. Personally, I find the bed —

Shut up, and eat your dinner . If you had said it outloud, it would have been through gritted teeth.

Rhys cocks his head to the side, briefly taken aback by your bite, and then smiles. Careful, darling , you hear in your head, if I have to take you over my knee, I won’t be asking anyone to leave first.

You squeeze your thighs together at the threat, the heat building between them becoming uncomfortable. You’re desperate. You need him.

That bad, hm? he asks.

You watch as he takes a sip of wine, his eyes never leaving yours.

Say the word and they’re gone, or continue to torture yourself. Up to you.

The prick wanted you to ask for it. Beg for it. As if your thoughts hadn’t been enough.

That “prick” will not hesitate to punish you in front of our friends. 

You feel yourself clench around nothing. 

Please, Rhys , you give in. 

He smirks, taking another sip from his glass. Please, what?

You swallow your pride. Not that there’s much left of it. Please fuck me.

Please fuck you, where?

This ass— 

His eyebrows raise — your final warning — and it stops your thought dead in its tracks. You take a deep breath. 

Please fuck me on the table, Rhys.

He grins. All you had to do was ask.

You put your shield up for a brief second so you can mentally roll your eyes in peace. When it comes down, Az, Cassian, and Mor are getting up from their seats.

“We eat here,” Cassian reminds the both of you as he stands.

Rhys is looking at you with hungry eyes as he replies, “Who says I won’t be eating?”

“Eugh!” Mor groans, making her way towards the exit. “At least wait until I’m out of earshot.”

Cassian snorts before following her out, Azriel having been the first to leave. 

And now it’s just you and Rhys and the table between you.

You blink, and suddenly his face is inches from yours, leaning over you with his hands resting on your thighs as he smirks at your shaky breaths. You can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye. He places a curled pointer finger underneath your chin, his thumb slowly tracing over your bottom lip, letting out a low chuckle at how your mouth begins to open ever so slightly.

He leans in, his lips meeting yours with a gentleness that doesn’t quite match the lust in his eyes, and you know you’re in for a long night. It could be hours before you were going to feel the release you had been begging him for.

“As far as I’m concerned, I shouldn’t let you cum at all, considering the names I’ve been called,” he murmurs, as he kisses your way up your jaw line, down your neck. 

You whimper at the notion, at the thought of being left reeling, wanting, on the table. Right now, you can’t imagine anything worse. 

“That’s very dramatic,” he whispers, his voice lined with a teasing smile. You watch him drop to his knees in front of you, slowly pushing your long gown up to your thighs. “But if you truly cannot imagine anything worse, then I suppose I’ll give you what you want, my darling girl.” 

You tense at his words, at the way he grabs ahold of your leg and places it over his shoulder, at the way he licks his lips, as if he’s about to dig into his favorite meal. 

He stops. “Of course, I had forgotten,” he says, and there’s a flash of darkness before you find yourself lying on the table, with Rhys kneeling at the end of it. His hands are gripping the underside of your thighs, pushing them upwards and outwards. In one fell swoop, he rips off the black lace covering your core, baring you to him. “I eat my meals at the table.” 

You let your head fall onto the hard surface underneath you. Fuck .

“Oh, I plan to,” he replies, placing a soft kiss on your inner thigh. “But I’m going to have my fun first.”

You swear his tongue has magic of its own with the way it moves between your folds, pulling short breaths from your lungs as he circles it around your clit, never staying in one spot long enough to grant you the release that you so badly crave. When he adds two fingers, your back arches off the table, and you whimper as you feel his magic pinning you down in response. 

“ Please , Rhys,” you practically sob, your thighs quaking as you try to remain still, trying to keep your orgasm at bay. 

“You’re not going to cum already, are you, darling?” he asks, but you know it’s not a question you can say ‘yes’ to. You know you’re his . You won’t cum until he tells you to. 

He chuckles at your thoughts. “Good girl,” he praises, his fingers curling inside you at just the right spot, and the combination of the two almost sends you over the edge. Almost. Minutes pass, but they feel like hours. You find yourself on the precipice of release too many times to count, having to take deep breaths to keep yourself grounded. Eventually, you accept this new tortured existence.

Very dramatic , Rhys teases.

You yelp as he stops his ministrations and pulls out of you too abruptly for your liking, standing up before pulling you to the edge of the table and flipping you over by your hips, your bare feet meeting the cool marble floor. It only takes seconds before he’s dragging his cock through your soaked folds, teasing you even further. You wiggle your ass — a silent plea — and he spanks it in return — an audible warning to be still that echoes through the dining hall. 

“Ow!” you whine, forcing your body to comply with his demand. 

Another smack, on the other cheek this time.

“Rhys!”

“Do I need to gag you? Or are you going to quit your whining?” 

Another hit, harder than the others. A test. You remain silent and still.

“Although I must admit… I do love watching your ass change colors.” You brace yourself for another hit that never comes. Instead, you get no warning as Rhys thrusts into you in one swift motion. “But I’ll save it for the next time you feel like mouthing off.”

You grip the edges of the table as he pounds into you, his hand coming to wrap around your shoulder for leverage, his cock filling you up, hitting your sweet spot with every stroke. Your moans are unsteady and never-ending, only interrupted by the expletives falling from your lips.

“Oh m-my —  fuck — Rhys!”

He smirks, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling you up off of the table, your back flush with his muscled, tattooed chest. You start to wonder when his shirt came off before you realize that his hands are holding your bare breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers. Magic has a number of uses — making clothes vanish off bodies being one of them. 

He continues to thrust into you as one of his hands makes its way down to your core, swollen and throbbing. When his skillful fingers find your clit, you throw your head back onto his shoulder. 

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease,” you chant. You’re unsure of how much longer you can take it. Five agonizing seconds pass — then ten — and then —

“Go ahead, darling, I’m right behind you,” he orders, and you practically scream as your orgasm washes over you, as you feel his cock twitch inside you, filling you up. “Fuuuuck,” he rasps, his hands holding onto your hips now as you fall forward onto the table from exhaustion, letting the cold surface cool your skin. 

Moments later, Rhys collapses on top of you, holding himself up by his forearms, caging you in between them. He’s still inside you as he trails soft kisses from one shoulder blade to the other.

I love you , he sends down the bond, still catching his breath.

A tired smile creeps onto your lips. I love you, too.

[dokidokitsuna]

Tragic Sky

(very long salty rant ahead (+new Alterna backstory, though! ^^;))

So I've always thought Alterna’s backstory, despite being presented as a grand mystery that’s definitely worth fighting through 90% of the missions to uncover in its entirety…was kinda stupid. :/ I’m all for humanity destroying itself for ridiculous reasons, but trying to launch a rocket in an enclosed space?? Are you serious…? o_O How could the Alternans devote such immense amounts of time and energy to something like that without once thinking, “hey, uh…burning metric tons of high-energy fuel inside of our flammable safety dome might be a little unsafe, idk”.

And it shouldn’t even have been necessary! DX I mean, if they were able to build a dome like that in the first place, wouldn’t they have some sort of scaffolding or elevator system they could use to reach the top and just literally climb out if they wanted to leave that badly?? Had Alterna existed for so long that the technology used to create it was lost to time (seeing as it’s implied that Alterna was destroyed by its SECOND generation, I doubt it)...?? Or, did the writers suddenly realize that coming up with pseudo-scientific lore that explains why inkfishes resemble humanity is wholly unnecessary and adds nothing to the themes of Splatoon…but it was too late to rework the concept, so they just finished off the story with whatever-the-heck and called it a day. ¯_(ツ)_/¯ I guess we’ll never know...

Anyway, my version of Alterna’s backstory starts with a similar premise: humans invented crystal thingies that can manifest people’s desires and whatnot…but this alone caused conflict that eventually doomed Alterna. People began to make their own interpretations of other people’s desires, judging and condemning them for how they manifested. They began treating the crystals’ reflections as compulsory measures of morality and worth, rather than simple expressions of the human heart that exist outside of a good/bad binary. Alterna’s leaders envisioned themselves creating a society of ‘pure truth’, free from the destructive power of deceit and subterfuge…all the while ignoring the destructive power of paranoia and exclusion that they immersed themselves in.

Exclusion escalated to oppression, which eventually spawned rebellion: plans were made to create a rocket that would allow a select group of ‘undesirables’ to escape Alterna for the surface world, destroying the integrity of their safe haven in the process. Despite not knowing what was waiting for them out there, they were willing to take the risk in the name of freedom. Eventually, this secret plan was revealed to the public, resulting in Alterna’s first and last civil war. As the Alternans began to fight and kill each other, the crystals were overwhelmed with the unprecedented ferocity of their clashing desires-- “a violent and terrible chain reaction ensued”, and the energy within them exploded outward. The sky dome, still filled with the beautiful blue of the peoples’ wishes for peace and happiness, came crumbling down, raining fire and shrapnel upon Alterna. The still-poisoned air of the outside world flowed freely into the cavern, ensuring the eventual death of anyone who might have survived.

…Then the crystals fell in the ocean, the sea creatures were imbued with human hopes and dreams, yadda yadda, all that’s basically the same as the canon too. And although I still think it’s unneeded (the mere concept of a bygone humanity in Splatoon carries plenty of weight without all this “lore”, imo), at least now the story isn’t stupid!

It speaks to the way humans actually treat each other, and blames their downfall on their long-established bad habits of cruelty and callousness, rather than morally-neutral traits like ambition and pursuit of the unknown (I would never have expected “curiosity killed the cat” as the lesson of the day from Splatoon, of all franchises. o_O This IS the same game that celebrates individual expression and forging your own path, right���?)

Anyway…I’m gonna be using elements of this rewritten backstory and the theme of “manifesting desires” to flesh out the final boss encounter and Agent 3’s subtle character arc. So please look forward to that~

[crows-in-the-house]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖚𝖆𝖑

It's a part of my own writting inktober! To see more check out this post!

Prompt: clown / emotion / ritual

pairing: Bill Cipher x Reader

tw: none

The moon was full, bathing the night sky in a cold silver light. Dark, long branches hit the window panes. It was midnight when you started to have doubts. Will it work? Will it actually help you?

You shook your head - there was no time for such questions. The last candle was lit with a trembling hand. The room was filled with darkness, you could barely see your hands despite the gentle flickers of the fire. You took a deep breath, taking the chill night air into your lungs, and letting it out in a long sigh.

You opened the old scripture, holding on to the old paper as if to your own life. The ancient rhymes made your eyes water. You were just about to go on to the part with the knife when you heard a faint laughter.

The room seemed to shift and change. You knew that voice right? Low, ominous rumbling filled the air, when sharp shadows circled around you as if to swallow you whole. There was something emerging from the corners in the darkness, something big, staring right at you-

This fucker!

"Bill! What are you doing in my ritual!"

"Oh come on toots, calling onto some stupid gods and not me? You really have a nerve!"

The triangle demon circled you while laughing. His form again normal sized, perfectly punchable if he only moved closer.

"Don't even try that kid! I'm not like those clowns you want so badly! I will get back at ya!"

"What do you want Cipher!? I was just about to summon a god and you ruined it! Again! Do you know how long I have to wait for another full moon?!"

You looked at the demon with anger. Since you two met he succesfuly stopped all your attempts at dark magic. At first you belived him when he said you where doing some stuff wrong, like using a wrong spell, or not fresh enough offering. But with time he started interfiing more and more. And now he was just an annoying prick.

"Listen kid, if you're so desperate to make a deal with a higher power-

"I'm not making deal with you Bill." You stood up crossing your arms. " I want to learn my future from a reliable source. A reliable source, got it?"

"Oh and would you look at that - that's exactly me, brainiac! If we just made a deal, I would let you know aaaall your possible futures, with all the alternative universes, great deaths and every new emotion in your head! Why not shake on, so I can share it with you?"

"Cuz last time I did that, you made me think of you every time when I spoke to my crush! And now I don't even remember their name!"

"As if such a detail was important kid, you got your end of the deal, and I got mine, yes?"

"How was that even beneficial to you?!"

"A guy must advertise himself somehow, you know?" He said while shrugging. You growled, putting out the candles. You had to stowe them away and wash the floor again. At least you didn't spill your blood this time. You were getting short on bandages.

You looked at your watch. Fifteen minutes after midnight. If it was at least ten, you would still have time to continue, rushed, but at least finally achieving your goal. Now tho, it was certain it wouldn't work out. The ritual needed special time and undivided attention. Both of which, Bill took without any care.

Your stomach growled. You haven't eaten in a while. Maybe you should go do that and watch a movie to sleep? You looked back at the triangle. He was still there, staring at you, as if suspended in space. Was he lost in thoughts or reading your mind? You nudged his side to get his attention.

"You know what? If you spawn me a drink - not alive, conscious one that is, I will share my popcorn with you." You saw humor get back to his eye.

"Oh golly! Free useless food from my meatbag monkey? What a treat!"

"Do you want it or not?" you replied, leaving the room. His eye scanned your tired form while slowly following you.

What a cute fool you were. Calling onto beings your whole mind wouldn't understand. It was shame you weren't awere how much he was protecting you from getting your brain melted. Maybe, just maybe if he made you more like him you would finally realize how much work you made him do! But no. He couldn't risk his stupid puppet getting a potential response from one of those "higher beings".

After all you belonged to him.

[mustainegf]

➜ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟑 — ❝ 𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ❞

It was oddly cool that morning. A thin fog was hanging over the quiet street. The house felt too cramped, too suffocating, and after the weird thing last night with James, I needed space. So here I was sitting on the front step, hoodie pulled tight around me, with a joint in hand.

I took a deep drag in, letting it fill my lungs before exhaling again. That familiar warmness spread through me, calming my nerves and making everything more distant. I just wanted to forget about last night, the noise, and most of all, James. His stupid smirk, his digs, the way he'd gotten under my skin like he always did.

God, why did I even care?

I glanced down at the pavement, absently watching the smoke curl up into the morning air, trying to focus on anything but that idiot.

It was a creak of the door suddenly behind me that pulled me out of my thoughts, and I turned to see Cliff or Kirk. But of course, it was James. Because of course it would be.

"Seriously?" I muttered under my breath as he stepped out onto the porch, the screen door clapping shut behind him. He paused a second, scanning the yard before his gaze settled on me. I half expected him to turn around and head back inside, but instead he came down the steps and sat on the step beside me.

"Great," I muttered, taking another hit. "Just what I needed this morning."

A minute passed with James uttering not one word, he just sat, elbows to knees, eyes straining out into the street. Already, his company was getting on my nerves, intruding on my solitude, but his silence was far more irritating. He didn't seem at all like his usual arrogant self, and it pissed me off, just like everything else he did.

Finally, after an awkward silence, he spoke up. "Weed's shitty.”

I blinked, surprised he said anything at all. "Excuse me?"

He shrugged, not looking at me. "It's shitty. Makes me feel weird."

I stared at him blankly. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope."

I blew out a breath, shaking my head. "You're such a pussy."

He shot me a look, mouth twisting in a smirk. "Says the girl who gets stoned to escape her life.

I snorted, taking another drag, blowing the smoke in his direction to annoy him. "Life sucks, it's way easier to deal with when you're high. But you wouldn't know that, would you?"

James gave a short laugh, but there was no happiness reaching his eyes. "Oh, trust me, I know all about dealing with shitty reality.”

I turned to him, expecting another dig. His tone caught me off guard. He stared straight ahead, his jaw clenched.

"What's wrong with you this morning?" I asked. "You're even more of an asshole than usual."

"Maybe you're just more annoying than usual."

I rolled my eyes. "Right. I'm the annoying one.”

He fell silent, then grumbled, "You don't get it."

I cocked an eyebrow, intrigued now. "What don't I get?"

"Don't matter."

I leaned back on my elbows and let the smoke swirl lazily around me. "You're such a mystery, Hetfield," I say with a snarky tone. "All brooding and tortured, huh?”

"Better than being a spoiled little brat who's never had to deal with shit," he spat back, his voice tinged with resentment.

I glared at him now as my mood flipped. "Spoiled? You think I'm spoiled?"

He shrugged again, refusing to look at me. "You live with us rent free, smoke Cliff's weed like it's nothing, and what, your biggest problem is you don't like me? Yeah, sounds real rough.”

His words cut a lot deeper than I'd bargained for, but I wasn't going to let him know that it got to me. And I sure as hell was not going to let him have the last word. "I'm not some spoiled princess who's had everything handed to her, if that's what you think," I said, sharper now. "I work, I pay my way-"

"You live in a basement.”

“Because my asshole landlord decided to raise the rent, not because I want to. Nobody asked me if I wanted to be here." I turned toward him, pausing. "Unlike you, right? You've had everything handed to you, perfect suburban life, doting mom, guitar lessons, and voilà! on stage living your rockstar dream. Must be nice.”

I didn't even know where the comment came from, but it was good to say it out loud, to throw his own assumptions right back in his face. But no more had the words left my lips than something changed.

James froze.

He didn't say a word for the longest time, just his jaw clenched and his fists curled at his sides. Anger? Pain? No clue.

"What?" I pressed again, getting a little nervous. "You gonna throw a tantrum now?”

His mouth opened to say something, then snapped shut, his whole body shaking with some kind of anger. I'd never seen him like that before. He looked like he was about to blow, but instead he just stood up abruptly, his fists still balled at his sides.

"You don't know shit about me," he growled out, through gritted teeth.

I blinked at the venom in his voice. "What the hell is your-"

But before I could get the sentence out, he whirled and stormed out the front door, slamming it so hard the glass rattled in its frame. The sound reverberated out into the still morning air, leaving a quiet in its wake.

I sat there for a few seconds, utterly speechless, the sudden change in his mood rendering me mute. One minute we were going at each other like any other day, and then he was… what? Furious? Hurt?

I glared at the door, my heart still racing from weird intensity of the moment. What the hell was his problem?

I hit the joint again, trying to shake off this uncomfortable feeling that had joined me. A few minutes later, I shrugged it off. If he wanted to sulk, that was his problem. At least he was out of my hair for now.

The rest of the day had been uneventful, or as uneventful as it tended to get in this house. Lars was up and at 'em in a foul mood, banging around the kitchen and swearing loudly at whatever was missing from his drum kit. Kirk spent most of the afternoon holed up in his room playing with new riffs, while Cliff was out in the backyard, lying with his bass, in space. I couldn’t find myself to care what James was doing.

I found myself late that afternoon again on the front step, staring at the place James had sat, trying to make sense of it all. I didn't know why that one remark would set him off that way, but as I considered longer, I realized just how little I did know about him. He wasn't exactly the sharing type, not that I was asking, anyway.

I was lost in thought when the door creaked open again. I looked up this time, expecting James, but it was Cliff holding a beer and offering a lazy grin in my direction. Thank God.

"Hey," he said, plopping down beside me. "You look deep in thought. What's up?

I took a deep breath, taking the beer he offered and popping the top. "Just… thinking."

Cliff raised an eyebrow. "That's dangerous. What about?”

I shook my head, caught between feelings. "It's nothing. Just the usual bullshit."

"Hmm," Cliff hummed, taking another swig of his beer. "That 'usual bullshit' wouldn't happen to involve James, would it?"

I shot him a look. "What makes you say that?”

Cliff let a laugh release from his throat. "Just a feeling. You two have been at each other since you moved in, and I noticed things got kinda pissy after the show last night."

I rolled my eyes, leaning back against the step. "It's always intense with him. He's an asshole."

"Yeah, he can be," Cliff said with a nod. "But there's normally a reason."

I frowned. "What do you mean?

Cliff drank half of his beer before answering. "James definitely isn't the easiest guy to figure out, but he's got his reasons for being the way that he is. I wouldn't take it too personally."

"Too late for that," I muttered, staring down at the beer in my hands. "He hates me."

Cliff chuckled. "I don't think he hates you. You two just push each other's buttons... A lot."

I snorted. "That's an understatement."

Cliff's voice gentled. "Look, I'm not saying you have to get along with him or anything, but maybe cut him some slack. He's got his own shit going on."

I raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

Cliff shrugged. "That's for him to tell you, not me. But just… be aware that there's more to him than what you see.”

I just sat in silence, thinking over Cliff's words. I didn't quite know what to make of it. Whatever it was, I wasn't going to spend my life tiptoeing around James Hetfield's emotional baggage. If he wanted to be an asshole, that was his choice. I wasn't here to fix him.

Yet Cliff's words lingered in my head and when the sun began to set, I drank a little more of my beer and let out a sigh. Whatever it was, I'd face it later. At least James had left me to my peace.

Even though that peace felt strangely hollow.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @killazilla777 @lcveslils @metallicaloverrr @frann4521 @ilovepapahet @morphica — comment or dm to join the taglist!

[avatar-anna]

Hiii can you please write a blurb where its hockey player h getting jealous? It can be at a party or maybe at one of figure skater y/ns competitions?

i did that thing where i took an ask in a different direction, so if this was your request, message me and i'll do an actual jealous fic! i apologize, i was feeling angsty, protective boyfriendrry🤭🤭

trigger warnings: light depictions of sa, coping with sa

i don't pretend to know what it's like to be a victim/survivor or sexual assault, so if there is something that you may find offensive or unrealistic or glorified, please know that was not my intention. feel free to message me if you take issue with this fic, and i'll take it down.

all the love💕💕

"Do you wanna get out of here?"

You were quick to shake your head, stepping away from the guy you'd been talking to. It was just a conversation, nothing more, one you didn't even really want to be having in the first place. But the guy had cornered you in the fraternity's kitchen, and you were looking for a polite way out.

"Uh...no. I'm actually here with my boyfriend," you said.

You hoped that would be the end of it, but instead of backing off he stepped closer. "You don't have to play hard to get, Y/n. I'm already into you, so come on."

Dread started to fill your belly. Peeking over the guy's shoulder, you saw that you were the only ones in the kitchen, and with the loud music playing throughout the house, no one would hear you if you needed to call for help. You hoped you wouldn't need to, but it was all you could think about as he leaned in.

"No," you said, trying to sound firm despite your trembling voice. "I said no, so if you'll excuse me—Get off m—!"

His hand was on your wrists and pushed you roughly into the wall hard enough to hurt. While you were still in a daze from being shoved, he made his move. His mouth, which was not at all like Harry's, was on yours before you could say anything. The guy tasted like stale beer, and his tongue kept trying to push past your tightly closed lips. Your skin crawled every place he touched—under your shirt and skirt, the inside of your thigh—and every time he whispered in your ear and his breath unfurled across your neck. You wanted to call out or push him off but you couldn't. You never thought you would be in this position, and now you were, and you just...froze.

When his lips moved to your neck, you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut and hoping if you stayed still enough your mind might drift elsewhere. "Please," you whimpered one last time, willing yourself to push back, but you couldn't make yourself move.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Harry's voice, that was Harry's voice. For a moment, you thought his angry tone was pointed at you, that he thought he'd caught you cheating.

"Nothing, man, leave us alone. We're—"

Things were a blur after that, but all you knew was the guy wasn't on you anymore and you felt exposed. The skirt you had carefully tucked into your skirt at the start of the evening was rucked up, the neckline pulled down. You kept your eyes closed, tears slipping out as you listened to the sound of a fight, of someone getting shoved against a wall and plates or cups crashing and fists connecting with skin. You didn't want to cry, you felt stupid for crying, but the tears wouldn't stop.

"Harry, please."

"Shut up!"

Your eyes stayed squeezed shut, but you could hear the altercation coming to an end as more people came into the kitchen, most likely pulling Harry and the other guy apart. Feeling someone crowd your space again, you tensed and shook your head, completely terrified.

"Hey, it's just me. It's just me, love. Can you open your eyes for me?" Harry said, his voice the softest you'd ever heard it.

Slowly, you blinked your eyes open, more tears spilling out. "I promise I didn't—"

"None of that, baby. I know what happened. You don't have to explain," he said. Harry reached out to gently push a strand of hair out of your face, but you flinched. "Sorry. I—Should I get Kate? She's here somewhere. I'll—Let me text her."

Kate came in minutes, and she quickly ushered you out of the party and into her car. Everything felt like white noise, and you were seeing without really seeing. You knew Harry was there and keeping his distance, but you just wanted to go home, be alone. So Kate drove you, got you into bed and slept on the couch in the living room, making sure to lock the door when you started to cry and hyperventilate because she'd forgotten.

The next morning you felt marginally better, but not great, and the day after that was more of the same. On the third day, you felt comfortable enough to get out of bed, to shower and scrub at your skin until it was rubbed raw. You were shaken up, but you felt like you were back in your body again. That night you did everything in your power to not be where you were mentally. A few days later, you were more aware once again, not so scared or skittish, but that only meant the memories and the feelings you were keeping at bay returned in full force.

"Harry's at the door. Wants to check in," Kate said, poking your head into your room. You'd been up for a couple hours, watching TV on your laptop after you finally stepped out of the shower, but you hadn't come out of your room yet, hadn't said a word to anyone. Hadn't spoken to Harry since the party. "He's been coming here for the last three days, and I've been holding him off, but—He's worried about you."

You knew he was worried. He called and texted until your phone died, and then he resorted to emails. Harry hardly even checked his email unless he had to message a professor about a late assignment, but he'd been emailing you relentlessly when you didn't answer your phone.

"Did he...hit that guy?" you asked, recalling bits and pieces from that night.

"Did a little more than just hit him, but well-deserved in my opinion," Kate muttered. "Was like one of those brawls he gets into on the ice at games except he had a good center of gravity. That piece of shit didn't stand a chance."

You didn't know how to feel about that. You were well aware that Harry got into fights at his hockey games, you always rolled your eyes when he got sent to the penalty box after shoving a player into plexiglass or taking a swing when she should've skated back to his position. And he was the jealous type, you were well aware of that. Sometimes Harry would glare or kiss your neck when he thought guys stared too long. He was protective and jealous, but a sweetheart on the inside, and part of you liked how strongly he felt for you and that he wasn't afraid to show it. Now...you didn't know how to feel.

"He...He can come in."

Kate nodded and left your room. A minute later, she was back with Harry. He had a split lip and dark bags under his eyes, but other than that, he looked fine. Kate was right, Harry seemed to take care of that guy without much trouble.

"Hi," he said, stepping inside your bedroom. Kate closed the door once he did, leaving the two of you alone.

"Hi."

"How—How are you?" he asked then frowned. "That was a stupid question. Sorry, I—"

"I'm okay. Not okay, but better, I guess."

"Good. That's—That's good. I'm glad. I was worried about you. Couldn't sleep."

Harry's hands were tucked into his back pockets as he leaned back and forth on his heels, his eyes struggling to pick something to focus on. He was nervous, you realized.

"You can sit down," you said, bringing your knees up to your chest so he could have space to sit on your bed.

"Right thanks."

He approached the bed, sitting down on the very edge. His hands stayed in his lap, foot tapping rapidly. Your eyes narrowed, a hand reaching out to take one of his hands in yours before you could think much of it. Harry's knuckles were cut up, reddish-purple bruises covering his skin. Ever so gently, you ran a finger over the bruises.

"It looks worse than it feels," he said, probably lying. "I know how you feel about fighting, but I couldn't let him get away with that. He—I saw red, and—Sorry, we don't need to talk about me."

"I didn't think anyone would come," you said. "We were just talking, and then all of a sudden we were alone and the music was so loud. I—I didn't think anyone would've heard me."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there. I went to the bathroom and went looking for you, I—I should've—"

"I don't blame you for not being there," you said. "You were there. I was just so scared, and I—I froze, I couldn't move, and I was so—"

"Hey, it's okay," he said. Harry tried to reach for you, but you pulled back. "I'm sorry I don't want to make you uncomfortable by touching you. I can go—"

"I have bruises on my wrists," you said, pulling the sleeves of her sweatshirt over your hands. "And I don't want to feel ashamed, and I know I shouldn't feel ashamed, but—but I do. I feel ashamed of what happened."

When you began to sniffle, Harry looked like he wanted to come closer, but he stayed put. "Can I?"

You gave him a small nod, and he gently took your left wrist in his hands. His touch was so delicate, you didn't even think he was capable of being that gentle. Harry pushed your sweatshirt back, and you quickly turned your head to the side, not wanting to see the bruised fingerprints on your wrists. You felt his thumb brush over the skin, and when your skin began to crawl, your shoulders tensed, and his thumb stopped.

"I went to the school board," he said. "The dean, or whatever. I told them what happened. I—I didn't mention your name, but I told them what happened so that...he could get expelled or reprimanded or something."

Your head had been resting on your knees, but at that, you looked at him. "You did?"

"Yeah, I—I'm sorry if I overstepped, but I couldn't just let him get away with it," he said.

You didn't know what to say. You'd been officially dating for a few weeks now, a little over a month, and things were still new, still fresh. But you liked this new relationship, and you didn't want what happened at the party to get in the way of something so good with Harry.

"I don't feel great, and I may have taken like a hundred showers since, but I think I just want...I think I could use a hug."

"I love hugs," Harry said, a small smile on his face.

You pushed the corner of your bedspread back to let him in, and Harry was quick to kick off his shoes and join you. His body was warm, the smell of his clothes perfect, his cheek against yours perfect. He was perfect. You felt comfortable in your own skin again with him next to you.

"And I could use a movie buddy," you said, opening your laptop again, firing up a rom-com.

"You've been pestering me to watch this with you," he mumbled against your temple. "But I'll watch anything if it means I get to hold you like this."

You blushed and squeezed his hand tight. Harry hissed a little, which made you mumble an apology before gently kissing his knuckles.

"I do hate when you fight," you mumbled, opening up your laptop again. "But this time it was deserved. If I have bruises, so should he. And I'm—I'm glad you told someone. Thank you."

"I wish I had been there," he said quietly, taking your hand in his and kissing your wrist gently. "I should have been there."

You knew both of you could go around in circles about hypotheticals about that night, but it would be no use. Something horrible happened, and you wouldn't forget it, and neither would he. But the bruises would fade soon, and Harry was there for you, and so was Kate, and you would be okay. When he kissed your wrist, your shoulders tensed, but your skin didn't crawl, and when he rested his arm on your waist, you felt safe, not trapped, and when he asked if you wanted to get dinner when the credits of the movie rolled, you found yourself saying yes.

"This might be everything that happened and my emotions might be all over the place, so take this with a grain of salt. In the nicest way," you said. "But I think I might be in love with you."

Harry chuckled and helped you out of bed, waiting by the door as you slipped into a pair of sneakers. You didn't bother changing out of your sweats, even though you had to hike up the sweatpants you were wearing every few seconds because they were Harry's. Both of you were more than familiar with walking around in comfy clothes after practice or a training session. You were probably headed to McDonald's and back to your apartment for another movie anyway.

"Then I'll wait to tell you I'm in love with you in a month when we're on a proper date. Until then, shall we?"

"I don't want to feel like this."

"I know."

"I shouldn't feel like this," you said, pulling Harry's covers up to your chest.

"You're allowed to have all the feelings you want, Y/n," Harry said softly, careful to keep his distance on the narrow bed. "We can wait. I don't mind just laying next to you."

"Yeah?" you asked, getting teary eyed for an entirely different reason.

"However long it takes."

You sniffled and reached for his hand, which he took. "Sorry about the uh... unfinished business."

"That? Can't even feel it," he said.

"Liar," you said, laughing a little. "But it makes you a reeeaaly good boyfriend."

Harry kissed the top of your head. "And it'll be reeeaaly worth the wait."

You laughed even louder, even fuller, this time, flicking him on the nose. "Pig."

Harry teased and joked with you, but on the inside, he felt relief. You'd come out of your room and gone back to class the last couple weeks, but you weren't quite yourself. You stayed covered up from head to toe, you stayed home on the weekends, and your heart wasn't in your training. You went and you were brilliant, but Harry could tell. He'd watched you enough to know if your heart was in it, and it wasn't.

So he learned when to be a shoulder to cry on and when to make jokes to make you laugh and when to put on your favorite movie. Harry had never been in this position before, he never thought he would ever be in this position before. But he didn't imagine you did either, so he tried his best.

He wasn't worried, though. You were in therapy and going to class and getting good grades and you didn't flinch anymore when people tried to touch you. Friends, anyway, sometimes strangers startled you. Progress was progress, though. Some areas were better than others, though. Since the party, you and Harry hadn't had sex, hadn't even kissed on the lips. You held hands and Harry kissed your head and cuddled on the couch or a bed, but it didn't go much further than that. And you were fully clothed each time.

But he was more than willing to wait. Harry knew taking time was important and he hadn't put pressure on you to do anything. It was you who wanted to do more tonight. You thought you were ready, you insisted that you were ready, but when Harry tried to take your top off, you pushed him away, feeling sick to your stomach.

"You'll get there. We'll get there," Harry promised, going over to his dresser to get a shirt. He tossed it to you, wanting you to be as comfortable in a t-shirt instead of the top you'd worn out tonight. He grabbed one for himself and was halfway into it when you stopped him.

"Could you maybe just—"

"What?" He asked, coming over to the bed where you were still covered up.

"It's stupid," you said.

"I can promise you it's not."

Blowing out a large sigh, you looked at him. "Could you maybe just not wear a shirt?"

"Of course," Harry said immediately. He shrugged out of the one he just put on and slid into bed next to you. "Not stupid at all."

"I just want...to feel you, but I don't want—"

"To do anything more. I understand."

So Harry let you position him just how you wanted on his bed, making sure not to accidentally lean or lay on your hair. Your hands were feather-light on him, like you were barely touching him at all.

Sometimes, late at night when you were fast asleep, Harry would feel inexplicably angry. Not at you, never at you. At that guy for hurting you the way he did, for violating you in a way that was still affecting you when he probably hadn't thought about it since. Harry could tell you looked for him when you were on campus together. Your eyes flitted to each face that passed you by, squeezing Harry's hand when you saw similar hair or frame. You were terrified to see him again, and seeing the panicked look on your face when you thought you did enraged Harry even more.

But there wasn't much he could do except wait. Wait for you to heal, wait for the storm to pass, wait to kiss you again. All of it was worth it, you were worth it, but sometimes he thought there was something he could've done to prevent all of this.

"You can stop beating yourself up, you know," you said out of the blue.

"What?"

"Don't think I don't know that look, Harry," you said, leaning up on your elbow to look at him. "I have never blamed you for what happened."

"I just wish I could help," he said, feeling his shoulders release tension they'd been holding since that night.

"You are. I don't know how to explain it, but I promise you are," you said, and that relaxed something in Harry too.

He was about to put on another movie when an idea came to him. "Get up."

"What?"

"Get up. I have an idea," he said, slipping back into his t-shirt and a hoodie.

Curious, you followed his lead, putting on shoes and letting him lead you to your car. "The rink," he said quietly, and even though you knew it was closed for the night, you went anyway. Harry didn't say anything, but you weren't really up for conversation anyway. You felt bad that you'd become a burden to Harry, that instead of a girlfriend he got...you. You wanted to be okay again, you wanted him to kiss you and feel you, you wanted to do more than just fall asleep next to him. But you just couldn't get his touch out of your head. You felt dirty and overexposed, and you weren't sure if you'd ever not feel that way again. You weren't sure if you should be selfish and keep Harry shackled to you while you found out.

"Come on," he said when you parked in the empty lot. It was almost midnight, which meant there were no more practices, no more games or private training sessions. It was just you and Harry.

He pulled out a set of keys from his pocket, taking you by surprise when one slid into the lock with ease. The front door to the rink opened, cold air immediately hitting you as you stepped inside.

"Why do you have keys to the rink?"

"Being captain of the hockey team has its perks," Harry said with a shrug. "Come on, I want to show you something."

You followed him back to the boy's locker rooms, and past that to where the rink stored the equipment they rented out to local teams or families who wanted to start training their kids but didn't know what to buy yet. Harry grabbed a hockey stick, not quite as big as the one he used, and then a bigger one, and a few pucks.

"Do you have spare skates in your locker?"

"Of course."

"They'll do. We're not gonna actually play," he said, but he wasn't looking at you as he pulled out small nets from the back of the storage room.

When he had everything, he told you to grab yours and his skates while he set up the rink, not giving you a chance to respond. You did as he asked, using the combination he gave you before leaving the locker room to cross over to the girl's. Your spares were old, and the blades could've used a tune up, but they were comfortable and would hopefully work for whatever Harry had planned.

You quickly got into your skates and got on the ice, handing Harry's over once you reached him. "I think you need to get angry, and I think you need a way to just let it all out," he said as he laced up his own skates, which were much clunkier than yours. "So I'm gonna teach you how to shoot, and we'll go from there, okay?"

"Harry, I don't think—"

"Do you trust me?" he asked, looking at you like he wasn't actually sure if you did.

"Yes," you said almost immediately.

"Then let me help you do this."

So you did.

Harry showed you the basics of shooting a hockey puck at the net. He made it look so easy, so effortless, but when it was your turn, you hardly made the puck move. But Harry was patient, quietly telling you what you did wrong and helping you adjust your stance. Eventually, you got the hang of it, and when you hit the first puck with force, you didn't stop.

Harry had been right, you needed an outlet for everything you were feeling, and each swing of the hockey stick had you feeling more than just uncomfortable in your own skin or scared or sorry for yourself. You were furious that this happened to you, that you couldn't do anything to stop it, that this person left you feeling weak and broken. All of that anger went into your movements, and everything else fell away, including Harry, who hadn't said a word since you got the hang of it.

You didn't know how long you stayed on the rink, all you knew was the stick in your hand and the ice beneath your skates. It wasn't until Harry tapped you on the shoulder that you finally stopped. Your cheeks felt flushed and you were breathing heavily, but you felt good, and you hadn't felt good since that night.

"Your arms are gonna be sore tomorrow," Harry explained, taking the hockey stick before skating around to gather up the other equipment. When he made his way back to you, you were still huffing and puffing. Gently, Harry reached out and brushed a thumb across your cheek, then the other. You didn't even realize you'd been crying. "How do you feel?"

"Different," you said. "Like I could sleep forever."

Grinning, Harry said, "Then let's get you back."

Harry had been right, your arms were already starting to feel like jello. You were worn out, but in a good way. You and Harry walked back to the car in silence, though when you looked over at him, he had a small smile on his face.

"What?"

"Nothing, it's just the way you were hitting the puck," he said, shaking his head, curls falling into his eyes. He hadn't gotten a haircut recently, and now his hair curled past his ears and touched the collar of his shirt.

"What? Do I play like a girl?" you teased.

"No, but, like, you're really graceful about it. It's not a bad thing, just different."

"Well, maybe I could teach you a thing or two about grace," you said, leaning into his side. The rest of the walk to the car was quiet, like both of you were stuck in your own heads. But when you started the car to go back to his place, you said, "Thank you. You've been...more patient than other people might've been, I think."

"You don't have to thank me for being a good friend," Harry said. "You would've done the same for me."

He was right. If something traumatic happened to him, you would've been bending over backwards to help him. Somewhere down the line, you cared enough about him that you would be devastated if he was hurt in any way. It would've hurt you to see him hurt.

"When I'm ready...you're in for a treat," you said, trying to lighten the mood. You didn't want to feel like you were shrouded by a dark cloud anymore. "

Almost like he knew what you were trying to do, Harry played along. "Oh yeah? What can I expect?"

"That would ruin the surprise."

You saw Harry shake his head in your periphery, but it was an amused shake.

This felt right, the teasing and flirting. It felt normal. You weren't one hundred percent okay, but for the first time since that night, you believed that you would be, and Harry knew it too.

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

The Eternal Night (Part 3)

Summary: Every night you become more attached to Sevatar. He, in turn, becomes obsessed with your connection.

Jago Sevatarion/fem!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, power imbalance, violence, predator/prey, rape (attempted), stockholm syndrome

Word count: 2252

Song: She Wants Revenge - Tear You Apart

I want to hold you close Soft breath, beating heart, As I whisper in your ear: I want to fucking tear you apart

You didn't talk to Sevatar about what happened that day. Was it really necessary? He is your master, he saved you from the Legion. You were to serve him faithfully and not ask questions. Even if his behavior was unusual for Space Marines.

However, Jago Sevatarion decided not to dwell on one incident. You also continued to clean his chambers. But at the same time he continued his strangeness. If the Astartes were an ordinary man, you would think that it was he who pestered you like that. One such thought was blasphemous. And yet…

He holds you too tight, too strong. You won't even be able to escape from his embrace if you wanted to. But you couldn't resist this feeling. There are monsters outside the doors, ready to tear your soul and body to pieces. They don’t even hide, because this is their land.

Only with Sevatar will you be safe.

The rough tongue slides over your shoulder again, reminding you of its owner. He was rude, but still tried to act gentle. It just wasn't in his nature. It's like caressing flowers with a knife. But even so. Even so, you liked it.

Sevatar squeezes you harder, leaving bruises all over your body. Your back is pressed tightly against his chest. There is no chance of running away. Especially when his teeth are so close to your skin. One wrong step and he will bite your flesh off. But for now he is treating you too softly.

Your skin under the tattoo has become too sensitive. Every touch of his fingers or tongue caused a strange feeling. Heaviness appeared in the lower abdomen, it was hot and you had to suppress a moan. This was embarrassing. To experience such feelings...

But this is connected not only with touches. All these conversations, a man's concern for you. After all, the first captain could mock you, not take you as his servant, or force you to do hard work. But he didn't do it. Your past life was harder than in the service of Sevatar. And then you weren’t touched that way before him.

Such moments did not happen every time. Not every night. But only in those moments when the space marine especially needed sleep. He was calmed by your presence, your movements, the way you cleaned up. But apparently touching you broke something in him. After which Sevatar fell asleep in an unusually sound and peaceful sleep.

Perhaps you should have been happy for him. It was true, it just still hurt. Lonely. You couldn’t understand where sympathy for Sevatar came from in your heart. It was a shame to feel like that. He was the Night Lord. He wanted and served the Emperor, you were not stupid. You knew he was still a murderer and a sadist.

And he's a Space Marine. You knew that men of his kind could not experience attraction. Sevatar has never seen and will never see you as a woman. All this time, you were nothing more than a piece of meat that calmed him down. It was annoying and easy at the same time.

You didn't want to give in to weakness. To feel fear of the horrors of NightFall, which grew into an obsessive desire to be protected. To be loved. Every day the hanging bloody flesh of your mistress was forgotten. The cries of the suffering prisoners echoed. You began to get used to this place, to your surroundings.

Disgusting.

You desperately wanted to save the remnants of your mind before it completely shattered. Preserve your humanity, kindness and mercy. You didn't want your heart to turn to stone. So that it beats again and fills with blood not only when Sevatar appears nearby.

Therefore, you began to leave your master’s chambers even more often and spend every free minute with the rats. Or with grandpa and other serfs if they were not busy. But mostly with your favorite friends. In addition, your diet improved and you were able to share more acceptable food with them.

Still, you couldn't help but worry. There are fewer of them. Much less. But the serfs did not pay attention to your friends, and the space marines even less so. So why did it seem to you that the disappearance of your little friends was not due to hunger? Rats could be cruel, but now there was no reason for them to kill each other. It could have been someone else.

Later, grandpa told you that recently the Night Lords brought one of many planets to the Imperium. As always, in a very perverted way, since the residents apparently did not have enough footage of the previous massacre. Many ended up in skinning pits. Some prisoners were specially taken to Nightfall to prolong the pleasure of torture.

Maybe one of the prisoners escaped? Hidden in the depths of the ship and somehow managed to escape pursuit? Eating scraps and rats, he survived in this gloomy and dark place. You felt sorry for your friends, but you also felt sorry for the prisoner. You couldn't give him away. So you decided to pretend you didn't notice anything. Close your eyes to what is happening, as you usually did. Only this time it was much easier to do.

But in the end, everything that is hidden will become clear. You saw him. A thin man whose ribs stood out against his skin. Covered in blood and filth. His growing hair and beard, his whole appearance, turned him into a beast. Once a former person.

He was just finishing the rat. And judging by the bones and meat scattered around him, it was not the first. He ate them all. He killed them all. The rats were not people, but they were dear to you. You guessed that this would happen, but when your thoughts become reality you feel sick. You sobbed.

The creature heard your sobs and turned around sharply. You froze. He's spent too long in pitch darkness, he can see you. You won't be able to hide. But maybe he will run away on his own? You pose no danger. And apparently the man knew this. You could tell by his hungry look and the saliva coming out of his mouth. They only look like that when they want to eat. He wanted it, just differently.

You ran. Heart was beating incredibly loudly, ready to jump out at any minute. You were out of breath, but the stomping from behind urged you on. And yet he caught you. He lay down on your back, breathing heavily into your ear.

“Woman, woman” - the older girls told you that men turn into animals at the sight of a woman. But right now there really was a monster above you, trying to take off his pants. - “Warm. Finally alive. D-don't move. Don’t c-cry, I’ll be quick.”

But you cried. You resisted. Even when he turned you around and punched you in the stomach.

“I-I'm marked. I have a tattoo.” - you choked on tears, not believing that this was the first time you had to talk about this. You desperately tried to stop the man from untying the knot of his pants. - “I serve Jago Sevatarion, the first captain. Y-you can’t touch me.”

"Shut up!" - the man slaps you in the face and you burst into tears. - “I don’t know anyone here. Just let me in. Open up. I want warmth.”

You see how he finally copes with his pants and something in you breaks. Having found a fragment from the bottle, you plunge it into the flesh. A cry of pain is heard in the compartment, but this only spurs you on. You were beaten. He wanted to hurt you. He wanted...

You were weak in body. And it's not that your spirit is strong. But the man in front of you was even worse. You felt sorry for him. And no. You stab the shard into the rapist a few more times until he runs away from you on all fours like a whining dog.

A shiver ran through your body, nausea rising in your throat. You looked at the bloody shard with tears in your eyes. Your whole body ached. Especially those places where you were hit. Especially your tattoo.

***

Sevatar found you in his chambers. Sitting in the darkest corner, covered in blood and dirt. You thought he would brush you off or tell you to clean up after yourself. But the pale face lit up with such rage that you had never seen. You barely held back a whine when he came up to you with lightning speed, pulling you towards him.

“Who did this?” - The first captain looked at you with an anger. The hands squeezed your shoulders painfully, leaving new bruises. - “Some kind of mortal degenerate since you are still alive. Did you show him my sign? Who was it?

“H-he saw it. I met him in the trash compartment. P-probably one of your prisoners.” - you are safe and the man was clearly worried. But why are you so scared? - “But he ran a-away and was hiding. And then we collided. He wanted, he wanted-"

“Rape you, yes, I know, I'm not an idiot.” - the space marine abruptly interrupts your babble and you fall silent. Sevatar looks into your red eyes and runs a finger across your cheek with amazing gentleness, wiping away a tear. - “The blood is not yours. Hurt him?”

Nod.

“Killed?”

You shake your head, almost hiccupping. No, you didn't kill him, you saw him run away. Yes, he was badly injured. Weak and lost too much blood. But could you kill him? And did you want this?

To your horror, you couldn’t really tell. Sevatar chuckles, clearly satisfied with this answer. He examines you one more time, lingering on all the places where your tormentor's blood got into. There was too much of it. Your face was probably all red.

“It suits you, mouse. But I don’t want you to smell like someone else, so wash it off.” - you don’t even have time to think about such strange words. Sevatar did not seem to understand what he said, continuing his thought. - “Since our guards are not coping with their duties, we will have to carry out a purge. We'll find that bastard too. He will receive his well-deserved punishment.”

Sevatar turns to leave the quarters. But he turns around for a moment to look you in the eyes again. All you can do is stand silently in shock. He obviously came to his chambers to rest. But he leaves as soon as he hears what happened to you. He leaves to fulfill his duty.

“Well done for defending yourself.” - an unpleasant grin passes over the pale face and the man chuckles. - “But you are terrible murderer. Lucky you have me.”

It didn't take long at all. As Sevatar later told you, the prisoner was quickly captured. He was bleeding and was on the verge of death. But the Apothecary saved him in time. So that the Astartes could later put their sentence into action, prolonging the man's torment as long as possible.

The warden and guards also received what they deserved. They didn't do their job. They allowed the prisoner to escape and showed the Legion to be weak. They put you in danger. Although you were sure that the first captain kept the last part only for himself and you.

Some were more fortunate, some less so. Some were reprimanded, others were transferred to other positions. Some were beaten. The overseer responsible for such an offense was, of course, gutted in front of his subordinates. So that the new person in his position would better carry out the orders of the Legion.

“Oh, and this is for you.” - the man hands you an iron box with a cooling regulator. You open it with fear and look at the contents in horror. A small human heart, red with blood, lay on pieces of ice. Still fresh.

“If it weren’t for our Apothecary, you would still have finished off this pathetic mortal.” - the man smiled. Just as always that smile gave an unpleasant feeling. But you knew that this time it was not an imitation. He was sincerely happy. - “So keep your trophy.”

“What should I do with it?” - you turn the box in your hands, remembering one of the recent conversations. You look at the first captain like a child who does not understand a simple task. - “Eat?”

“Hah, you can eat it. Or feed it to your rats. Or keep it for yourself as a reminder. Do whatever you want.” - the man speaks relaxedly while his unblinking black eyes look at the tattoo. - “You deserve it.”

Even though it was a human organ. And you never thought that you would keep someone's heart to yourself. And even though it's terrible. It was nice. Nice to receive something of your own as a sign of consolation. Albeit in the manner of the Night Lords.

"Thank you."

You say this quietly, with all the gratitude that glows in your living heart. The man is silent, continuing to look at you. A strange fire burns in the black eyes, which you have never seen before.

Like a mortal, but in a completely different way, Sevatar also wanted to eat you. And to your horror and pleasure, you realize that you would allow him to tear you apart.

"You're welcome."

[tacoma-narrows]

Between the Sea and the Sky!

Hi everybody! Meet the TWO new guys I made between last night and today! Their names are Tarmac (an Aeromorph dog) and Soda (a pooltoy fox), and they've filled a desire for these two specific kinds of OCs I've had in mind for MONTHS lol. They were super fun to design and draw and I'm super excited to do more with them soon!! This piece is relatively simple but more so serves as their introduction hehe

See more about them, including refs and some additional pieces/information below the cut :] (it kind of turns into a huge braindump lmao)

Tarmac is an aeromorph, although a bit more towards the furry side of things rather than the plane side lol. His design is influenced primarily by the Concorde and the Space Shuttle! I couldn't decide for the life of me which of those two things I wanted to use so I thought "why not use both?" and here we are lol. I'm super happy with his design, with the black/dark gray markings mean to emulate the look of the Space Shuttle's thermal insulation tiles and then I really like how the red and blue stand out against the gray. I really like his icon too! I wanted to make it look like a stylized depiction of a plane (mainly a Concorde hehe) breaking through the sound barrier with a sonic boon! In terms of personality, I don't have a whole lot in mind yet. Mostly that he'd be the brave, adventurous type and since he can fly both in the air and through space, he's gonna be friends with Astro too :3

Soda is a pooltoy fox! I have wanted to make a pooltoy OC FOREVER (blame my mutuals for always posting/reblogging so many cool pooltoy OCs hehe). I finally got brave enough to actually give it a shot, and I love how he came out! I was mainly just thinking about summery themes and as I was just trying out different colors and stuff, I thought about orange soda, and that's the direction I ended up going! He's got a big stupid tail [affectionate] and can have either rounded bappy hands or have actual fingers, you're free to stylize that either way! I've only ever drawn a pooltoy character once ever before, so this was something way out of my realm of familiarity, but I'm so happy with how he came out! He's so shaped I love him so much already <33

So those are my two new guys! Making two new OCs at the same time is already a rarity for me lol. The only time it's happened before was when I made Rye and Pumpernickel back in August of 2021. And then making these guys when I had only gotten Astro about two and a half weeks ago means this is an exceedingly rare event for me lmao. My friends know how infrequently I make/get new OCs, so this just goes to show how much these guys have been bouncing around in my brain lately lol.

They are definitely gonna have some sort of connection to each other, but I'm not sure how I wanna go about that yet. Since I made them back to back, they are already connected in my brain, but I'm not sure how I wanna express that in a meaningful way. I don't wanna make them siblings bc, well, they're obv very different from each other lol, but they're kinda parallels (with one being in the sky and the other being in the water yknow), so as of right now they're definitely good friends with each other. I might upgrade that to bfs at some point in the future, but we'll see how things go hehe.

Anyways huge braindump of a post lmao, thank u for reading if u did! I'd love to hear your thoughts on these guys since they're so different from all my other characters! Also if anyone may wanna do an art trade of either of these guys (or Astro as well! I'd like to get more art of him too!) let me know hehe

[thoughtssvt]

words of wisdom

innocence protection program pt. 3

yuuji is having trouble asking questions in school and nanami gives him a word of advice

Yuuji was never one to ask questions. He never felt the need to. He liked learning what was interesting, but he mainly just liked seeing his friends every day. It posed a problem the older he got. He found himself interested in very little when it came to learning and eventually he began missing important instructions to his assignments.

He felt left behind, looking around seeing all his classmates seeming to know what to do inherently. He tried his best, he really did. He tried hard to pay attention in class so he wouldn't get left behind anymore. He tried to blend in even if he didn't know what was going on, raising his hand to answer a question that sounded like gibberish, earning some soft snickers from his fellow classmates. His ears burned bright red as the teacher called on someone else. He hated feeling left behind, but more than anything he hated everyone finding out that he was behind.

So he never raised his hand again.

Even if he couldn't complete his projects, let alone his classwork. Unbeknownst to him that the teacher had contacted Nanami in concern of his disinterest.

“Are you doing alright in school, Yuuji-kun? You haven't come to me for help in a while,” Nanami said nonchalantly as if he was asking what Yuuji wanted for lunch the next day. He looked at the boy with a neutral stare, seeing the nervousness in his son, Yuuji averting his eyes, pulling the covers up to his nose, socked feet fiddling under the blanket. “It’s okay to ask questions, you know that, right?” Nanami started again, this time more direct.

Yuuji wilted at his father’s words, though shock shone through more than anything. “You think it’s okay to ask questions?” Yuuji whispered softly.

“Of course I do. Questions are important, I ask my coworkers a lot of questions when I’m at work," Nanami confirmed.

“Aren’t you worried that you’re gonna look stupid?” The boy sat up, the conversation taking an interesting turn.

Nanami ruffled his hair, letting a soft chuckle leave his nose. The feelings Yuuji was going through were more than familiar to him. “I used to, yes,” he nodded his head as he reminisced his early adolescence. “But do you know what I learned?” He quirked his brow at his son, continuing when Yuuji shook his head. “I learned that I would rather look stupid for a second than feel stupid for the rest of my life.” A soft smile spread across Kento’s lips as he watched the light bulbs flicker on in Yuuji’s head. “Asking questions are important. You shouldn’t feel bad for wanting to learn more, alright?”

The next day Yuuji made it a point to try it at least once. At least one question out of the many he knew he would have throughout the day. He trusted Nanami, but he was still nervous, unsure if asking questions was as helpful as Nanami set it out to be.

From then on it was as if Yuuji’s thoughts were only filled with questions. He was amazed with how one question made so many things click into place. Nanami watched as Yuuji’s grades improved and, most importantly, how much more excited he was to go to school.

A/N : I actually had this exact conversation with my nephew a few weeks ago so I thought it was fitting to write about it. I hope you enjoyed! feel free to use my ask box for any requests!

j‹𝟹

Innocence Protection Program masterlist

The Small Spaces Between Infinity masterlist

a dad gojo and kid megumi series

Jujutsu Daycare master

an au where the jujutsu high students are young children attending jujutsu daycare

[cheesus-doodles]

Star-Crossed by Choice

Yandere Raihan & Leon with Champion Darling

Pokemon SwSh and SV Crossover

Masterlist

‎

been a hot minute since i've posted, so please enjoy this brainrot that has been eating away at my brain - i know its not the usual TR but gotta get it out somehow. next on the menu would (finally) be A Friend in Me!

cw: use of female pronouns twice

The pokeballs hidden deep within the depths of your bag wriggled impatiently, and you giggled at the sensation against your back. You couldn’t blame them for wanting to escape from the confines of their balls, not with the hum of life that filled the air of the small town of Cortondo. But this was neither the right time or space. It had been some time since you dared to let them out for a breath of fresh air and to stretch their limbs after all, and you silently promised both them and yourself that you would the moment the opportunity arises. 

The evening was a welcomed relief from the scorching heat of the afternoon that had left you drenched in sweat - the air was crisp and fresh, just dry enough to lift the sweat from your panting skin but not enough to suck all moisture away. A far cry from the humid day under the blistering sun; much unlike what your usual day would be like spent wandering and exploring new grounds, you instead had been forced to duck into the air-conditioned shops for a break. Strolling down cobbled pathways, the little colored flags that stretched from rooftop to rooftop waved invitingly at visitors from all corners of Paldea, the calls of shopkeepers adding to the general hustle and bustle as the town came alive once more, the sun sinking ever lower towards the horizon. 

Your heart wrenched, the pain in your chest sharp. Despite your urge to shrink away from the masses of people, all the eyes you could feel watching you, there was no denying that you missed this. You missed being free. Just being able to walk through town without a care in the world, without anyone hovering over you, one arm slung tightly around your shoulders. Not having to constantly worry about your Pokemon friends getting hurt because of something stupid that was your fault. You never thought you would have ever been able to get a second chance at freedom, to start all over again from scratch; that brazen escape you had risked your life and limbs on seemed to have paid off, though you had to turn your thoughts to the present to stop the tears from welling at the thought of everything and everyone you left behind.

Amidst the crowds of students all dressed in the same Uva Academy uniform as you, out and about and eager to discover when their own ‘Treasure Hunt’ leads them to, you felt secure. You felt like you blended in for once. Maybe it had been worth it, changing both your hairstyle and color, making sure to dress down and look down. Maybe you could be safe here.

“Hey!” A call of your name cut through the commotion of the crowd like a knife through butter. You jolted as one hand came flying down to smack you on your shoulder. Whirling round, you came face to face with those excited orange eyes framed by three signature green strands of hair.  “I thought you’d never come!” The president of the student council was as enthusiastic and energetic as ever, not seeming to have noticed your startle, instead beginning to shake you by both shoulders as she all but shouted her questions at you. “Which gym have you defeated? How strong are your Pokemon? Do you want to battle?”

You opened your mouth, but as usual, no words seemed to come out. Perhaps it was the crowd, everyone else around the two of you that is. You had managed a few words to the friendly Nemona previously, back when you parted ways at Mesagoza; a rare and unusual occurrence, given how your throat usually opts to clam up in front of anyone but your parents, but it just goes to show you have come to trust the loudmouth girl. Your social anxiety didn’t quite show around her like it did everyone else. 

Lifting both hands in a surrender and placating manner, it was beyond you how you manage to calm the other down, before reaching into your pocket to shyly show your friend the two badges that you had obtained so far in all the days you had been wandering. It wasn’t much you knew, and it wasn’t much on purpose. After all that had happened to you back in Galar, you were afraid to go down the League route again, let alone touch anything that had the word ‘Champion’ in it with a fifty-foot pole. 

To your surprise, Nemona was elated. “WOW! You already got two? I knew you had potential!”

You blinked, confused. Wouldn’t she have expected more badges? Was she just hiding her disappointment? The Champion-ranked trainer didn’t give you even a minute to breathe though, hooking one arm through yours and starting to drag you towards the nearest restaurant. “I want to hear ALL about it, you understand?” There was no time to finish your thoughts as you had to scuttle to keep up with her incredibly quick walking pace, and the two of you disappeared from the streets and into the depths of some place you couldn’t catch the name of.

‎

‎

Outside, a different story was unfurling, a pair of teal eyes was fixed firmly on the doorway that you had just disappeared through from beneath the shade of a hoodie, a frown pulling at his usually upturned lips. From across the street and with most of his deceptively lean self hidden behind a wall, there was no doubt in his mind that it was you. A restaurant was no place to cause a commotion, Raihan knew; who knows what you could resort to if cornered? You had escaped once, what was going to stop you from running again? He had waited and waited for this moment despite not being a patient man, but perhaps it wasn’t a bad idea to let you enjoy your last hour of freedom. There would be the rest of eternity with you after all, and he didn’t intend on letting you run wild again.

One tanned hand reaching up to pull his hoodie further down his face, Raihan leaned back against the wall, bringing his cold drink up to his lips. Soon.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl, with each second feeling more like years passing by. The crowds of students of varying ages, all clad similarly in that signature purple uniform, drifted past where he stood like a gentle wave, the town slowly clearing of people as the minutes ticked by. The sun that had once ruled the sky had now fully set, sinking past the distant mountain horizon with a grand burst of colors; the evening rays had been the herald for the star full of skies that now twinkled above. Yet the Galar Dragon gym leader kept waiting. Even if his eyes drifted away from the building, to gaze at the empty distance and wonder of the different Pokemon that wandered this region, or to scan the throngs of people for threats, there was no activity in or out of the restaurant that he missed. All the while, all Raihan could do was recall the night you had disappeared again and again in his head as he glared down at anyone who dared venture too near: the sheer horror of finding you missing from your room in the morning, your confiscated Pokeballs gone from their secured box. The feeling of his gut dropping straight out the bottom when he couldn’t find you after tearing the entire estate apart, his own Pokemon returning empty-handed after he had sent them out to track you down in a sheer moment of desperation.

Never again would he let himself feel that way. Never.

‎

You finally reappeared through the doorway long after his patience had worn out, but instead of the usual annoyance turned anger, the tanned man felt his breath hitch. You looked so very different yet at the same time, so very familiar. What a sight for sore eyes. The way you stood beside your new friend, huddled as close as you dared go, those doe eyes of yours fixed on a random spot on the ground. Small smile pulling at your lips as you fidgeted with the hem of the shirt of your school uniform, listening carefully to everything your energetic companion was spewing at you.

There was nothing you could change about yourself that would be able to hide you away from him: not changing your hairstyle, your hair color, the type of clothes you wear or even the color of your eyes.

But all his joy at seeing you once more was instantly wiped away when he had to witness you lifting your eyes to meet the other’s. And the anger that raged in his chest igniting once more at the sight of your lips moving - almost as if you were speaking. Sure there was no one else but the two of you lingering on the porch of the now-dark restaurant, but you never spoke to anyone but Hop. Not to him, not even to your Pokemon in the presence of another. Selectively mute, was what your all-too innocent mother had happily informed the gym leader when he had paid her a visit to collect some clothes from your house. Even Raihan himself never had the privilege of hearing your sweet voice in person. 

So who was this bastard? 

Watching as you stepped off the curb and back onto cobblestoned streets, there was no time like the present - with the dwindling masses and the shops closed or closing. Raihan pushed off the wall, both hands sliding into the front pockets of his jacket, each stride bringing closer and closer to your little duo. You never even noticed.

‎

The unease you had in your gut had been growing for a while. You couldn’t quite pinpoint what caused that feeling, but it certainly was shared by your Pokemon, their balls having wriggled restlessly all evening where you had hidden them in the depth of your bag. But being out with Nemona gave you a sense of security, and despite your better your judgment, you had pushed the nagging voice to the back of your head. It was probably nothing.

Until it wasn’t.

“So there you are, lil champ,” came that all too familiar drawl. You froze mid-step as a long shadow fell over you. You knew that voice, and you knew it too well for your own liking. The hairs on the back of your neck instantly stood on end as the smile fell from your face. “Never thought you’d go all the way back to school just to hide from me.”

There was no answer from you, but Raihan just kept speaking as if he didn’t notice. “Have to say you fit right in though. You do still have a lot to learn, don’t ya?” You didn’t have to turn to look to know who it was standing behind you, cold sweat already beading at your forehead as you stared down at the pavement, your eyes quavering. No way. There was no way he could have already found you. You thought- you thought you had made it far enough. You thought you were safe. 

“You thought you were safe?” It was as if the man in the dragon hoodie towering over you could read your thoughts - no, in his presence, there was no doubt that your mind was like an open book. “That we would never be able to find you because you ran overseas?” Those deceivingly downturned eyes glared a hole into your back, his lazy smile deceptively kind. “Aren’t ya going to say anything?”

Your new friend seemed to have taken notice of the sudden fear that washed over your entire posture, and in an instant, you were pushed behind her back, Nemona’s gloved hand going almost threateningly to the Pokeballs that hung by her belt. “Excuse me, but who are you?” The usually bubbly voice you had come to know was suddenly firm, every bit of enthusiasm having faded away into this serious side you had only encountered once. 

The Galar Dragon gym leader was hardly intimidated by those orange eyes, ignoring her as his dragon-like gaze continued to stare you down, the pressure alone from the fixation enough to force you to freeze. “Can’t even look at me, huh? Rude.” He knew you couldn’t. Raihan of all people knew better than most you couldn’t meet his gaze. The only response that left your lips was a whimper, your figure starting to quaver as the tears welled at the corner of your eyes.

But the annoying girl with the three strands of green hair butted in again, this time withdrawing a Pokeball to fully hold in her hand with the other arm wrapping comfortingly around your shoulders. “You are scaring my friend, and I do not appreciate that. Please leave.”

Raihan’s eyes finally slipped to the little insect, that razor-sharp gaze losing any and all interest. “And who are you?”

“Nemona, president of the Uva Academy student council and Champion-ranked trainer.” She announced, and the tanned man almost groaned out loud. Of all the places to possibly find you at, of course you had chosen the company of another champion. 

‎‎‎

Though it was a third voice that finally shattered your heart and any hope of escape you had left. “Champion?” The voice rang out from the darkness of the unlit side street. “I thought you were done with champions.” The pounding of heavy footsteps, and that unmistakably mob of long purple hair emerged into the dull light of the overhead streetlight. Just when you thought your heart couldn’t sink any further, your poor beating organ simply opting to fall straight out from your chest. Leon.

If Leon was here...

Nemona’s grip on you only tightened. “Who are you?” She demanded again, putting herself directly between you and the two men. You wanted to thank her, to say something, to say anything, but all you could do was tremble, your feet rooted to the ground no matter how much you screamed at yourself to move. No way - no way. How did they find you? “What do you want?”

There was no escape. You were trapped.

Her question was answered by the whispers of the gathering stragglers that still wandered the otherwise quiet streets of Cortondo, though the growing number of eyeballs didn’t help you feel anymore at ease. 

“Isn’t that… Leon and Raihan?”

“From Galar?”

“World number 1 and 7?! But what are they doing here?”

“Who’s that with Nemona?”

Your stomach churned, and you could feel the bile starting to rise through your throat. Leave. You wanted to leave. To run. To be anywhere but here.

The student council president was quick to realize that there was a lot more to you that she didn’t know, and that orange gaze, slowly but surely, turned on you. The reassuring grip she had on your shoulders never left, and Nemona gave you a tight squeeze. “What’s going on?” She whispered to you, but in the dead silence that suddenly fell over the night, everyone could hear her loud and clear. And what do these Master-Class trainers want with you? Was the unspoken question you heard loud and clear.

A single heartbeat of silence.

“Turn around, Galar Champion,” Leon ordered. There was no room in his tone for anything but absolute obedience, and against your will, you obeyed. Hesistantingly, shuffle by shuffle, you turned to face them, though your eyes remained firmly fixed on the ground, trembling hands gripped so tight that your knuckles were white.

Nemona’s eyebrows shot through the roof, and her voice pitched. “Galar Champion?!” And the growing crowd broke into a new round of frenzies whispers, every eyeball now on you, scanning you up and down in disbelief. 

A little thing like you? Champion?

“Never told you huh?” Raihan crowed. “That she had an entire team of Pokemon that could run at Champion League levels?”

Leon only continued to study your form mutely as Raihan continued to taunt Nemona with his knowledge, those once-friendly yellow eyes now almost seeming to glow in the dare as they peered straight into your soul. Taking a single step in your direction, it was enough to have you shrink away, your eyes flying shut and your shoulders hitching up. Almost as if you were expecting to take a hit from the former Galar Champion.

“So you have our Champion, and we’ll like her back. Please.” Finished the tanned man. Baring those sharp teeth, the smile that pulled at those lips was anything but friendly, Raihan once more turning his gaze back on you.

“Are you ready to come home?”

[hyun0o]

The Train Ride To Our Paradise

Yu Jimin x Fem!Reader [Fluff]

Enjoy(°=°)

°=°

The heavenly sky glowing, sharing it's warm air and atmosphere to the world. Clouds moving like sloths and forming shapes that anyone can imagine it to be. The roses blooming with perky thorns, not wanting their beauty to get disturbed.

Warm and welcoming air breezing though the trains open window. What type of person would even open a trains window? Well, Yu Jimin is the exact type of person to do that. But of course, asked me first, her one and only loving girl friend for permission.

"Y/n?" The dino obsessed girl called out to me, I was sitting in front of her. Her hand on the window handle making it clear on what she wanted to do. I teasingly sighed while shaking my head.

"Only for a few minutes alright?" I said with a soft voice. I know that my lover is very intrigued by this type of public transport. It's not a normal train like you use in the cities, but a train in the green forest and plains with many views of waterfalls and jaw dropping mountains. I could even say that this train was one of her dream ride. Well, our dream ride. Whatever Jimin loved, I loved it as well, wether it was too silly or what.

But there was one thing that we both always loved. And that is;

Lauterbrunnen, Switzerland. To see the beautiful architecture home styles, the devine well kept nature that looks too good to be real and of course, the wonderful cows. Today is our 3rd year anniversary, and so what do you do when it's conveniently yours and your lovers break from work? You go to the place where your dreams resonate with each other since day 1. At least that's what I thought. As I was spacing out, I suddenly realized that jimin was almost sticking her head out of the window like a dog in a car. I immediately called to her and quickly shut the window in panic.

"Bub, come on." I said disappointedly, she could have gotten hurt, and I hate that thought in the whole entire world. She laughed lowly and reasoned that she just wanted to get my reaction. Still not breaking my sad face, she realized that I was serious and quickly apologized. Her soft small hands reaching for mine.

"I-im sorry love, did I go too far?" She asked, regret evident in her voice, face, and actions. Almost fully forgetting her wrong, I tilted my head a little and squeezed her hand tight.

"I know always sound like a worry warts but please, Jimin. Don't put yourself in danger just to tease me" I reminded her with furrowed eyebrows, the sound of the rail road tracks eating up half of the silence. She bit her lip while looking around everywhere but my direction. Feeling a bit disappointed at her reaction, I tried to pull away from her hand but then she suddenly clung to it with a firm grip. Gently pulling my my hand just to kiss it and put the back of it on her soft and warm cheek. Finally looking at me with those beautiful sharp eyes filled with determination that made me fall for her in the first place.

"You're not a worry warts honey. Your reaction was valid, I'm really really sorry... You're right, I shouldn't have let stupid jokes take over right decisions for the both of us. Thank you for telling me and always worrying for me hun." She apologized sincerely and kissed my hand once again. God, you always know how to make me fall head over hells for you Jimin. With those sweet words, sharp tone, determined expression, and affectionate actions. You're a pro at making me forgive you.

"Just never do it again please?" I pleaded with her. Jimin then cupped my cheek with her free hand and leaned closer to me. Inches away from kissing, noses simply brushing against each other, exhange of warm breaths touching our face.

"I can't make you sad twice" She whispered with the look of the most sincere person on earth, god.

"I love you Yu Jimin." Jimins eye twinkled with stars as I accidentally blurted out, a little surprised myself, I started to blush. And without any warning jimin kissed me, startled and a little worried that someone would walk in the isle, I couldn't relax to the kiss. Jimin hummed and felt my tensed body.

"Calm down baby I'm sure no one will come, and even so we'll probably hear them." My lover reassured, caressing my hand with her thumb. With trust, I nod and intertwined my fingers with hers. She smiled at me lovingly, I kissed once again. But this time, both of us enjoyed it with calm and peaceful bliss; Jimin slightly opening her mouth licking my bottom lip asking for entrance. I happily allowed her, her familiar warmth explored through my mouth and battled with my tongue for dominance. She won as I started to ran out breath, whining a little bit signaling my lover to part to breathe.

Separating, a string of saliva formed connected between my lips and Jimins. I blushed as she smirked at me with flirtatious eyes, I already know what she's thinking about without her even saying anything,

"Stop it you flirt" I whispered, still inches away from her breathing heavily from the passionate kiss we shared. She jokingly rolled her eyes and soon giggled, seeing me so up close, studying your features for the thousandth time we've been together.

”Are you falling in love with me again?" I teased, tilting my head a little with a playful grin. My lovers face immediately softened, smiling foolishly at me.

"I always fall in love with you. Everyday to be exact." Jimin said as she kissed my nose, she giggled at my flustered reaction. I hummed and pouted since I was the one who got flustered instead of my Jimin. We leaned back a little and made eye contact again, a few seconds passed not feeling awkward or shy; we both giggled at each others weirdness.

As the both of us started a new conversation, our smooth train seems to be leaving the forest and traveling to the plains with only some tress can be seen in the distance. Letting us get exposed to have an amazing view at the mountains and lovely waterfalls streaming down the ledges with elegance. The greens looking surreal with the stunning homes having an adorable architecture style. I got excited at the view, hoping to see some cute cows in the plains. Eyes stick to the window, i didn't even realize that jimin sat next to me.

"Enjoying hun?" She asked lovingly while she rubbed my back. 8 turned to her with stars in my eyes and a big grin.

"Are you excited baby? Our dream is finally coming true!" I exclaimed, Jimin chuckled at my enthusiasm nodding. She rested her forehead to mine and closed her eyes with a sigh.

"My dream cam true 3 years ago, and I'm forever thankful for that my Y/n" She confessed and looked at me with her gorgeous eyes filled with happiness and satisfaction. I can't help but feel warmth in my cheeks, my lover is too honest, but that's what I love about her the most.

"So cheesy" I jokingly whispered, another grin forming, pulling in closer to her, I peck her lips and rested my head on her shoulder. "I love you Yu Jimin" I said with fondness closing my heavy eye lids and letting my body relax with my soulmate. I can sense Jimins smile ear to ear, both of us feeling content at the feeling of bliss. No matter where you two were, it always felt like home

"I love you more Y/n"

This took awhile, I made it last night trying not to fall asleep lol. I hope you guys liked it, I'm about to post some smut and some angst soon so stay tuned (°=–).

Also side note, Jimin looks so cute in the pics, she's too precious.