#i'm actually in a frenzy because of this

[r0zzk1ll]

what the actual fuck

[bantersnatch]

my friends,

in today's episode we learned that the host and bianca canonically attended the same college at the same time. we also learned bianca's last name -- 'jocasta', surely after none other than oedipus's mother.

in a happy coincidence, i've been meaning to write up a formal post noting that my longfic about the host and bianca attending college together and then developing a weird oedipal entanglement is completely posted as of yesterday.

this is huge for me, as you can imagine. take my hand. let's ride this train straight off a cliff together, shall we?

title: Dreamsickness fandom: Very Important People (Dropout.tv) word count: 45,054 rating: E summary:

Bianca’s mother taught her the rules of dealing with fey. Don’t give them your name, don’t eat their food. Never invite them in. Maybe if she had listened better, she wouldn’t be tangled up in this mess. (Or: Bianca and Vic meet in college. Years later, they find that old habits die hard.)

[ read it here! ]

[immabebaby]

Cassettes in Prime

So I was brainstorming with my brother earlier on how to input Soundwave's other cassettes into the pre-existing story/world and we came up with some pretty cool ideas, because it's too sad to think they all simply died (long post ahead)

First up, Ravage:

So MECH wants to re-create cybertronians right? What if they followed one around to see how they can make it, and that so happens to be Soundwave? Obviously he's fully aware of them and their plans, which is why he lets them. They create the " Robotic Assault Vehicle and Automated Ground Enforcer" with behaviors and patterns picked up from him. Once they're done, and it works, Soundwave can just swoop in and take it for himself probably blowing up MECH operations (whatever base they were using at the time). Megatron just let him keep it, bc if there's one bot he lets do whatever they want, it's Soundwave, just asks for a name, to which Soundwave plays back a clip of the scientists, "but for short, we call it R.A.V.A.G.E." "Well then, make sure you take Ravage to Knockout so he can give them a check-up,"

Cool, cassette count to 2, now for Rumble and Frenzy (it's a bit longer) :

What if, to better acclimate to Earth or something, the cons were trying to make cybertronians to fit in better with humans, maybe a decoy, infiltration, work as a spy, whatever. Point is, they're making smaller bots, two to start, to see how it goes. To test them out in battle, Soundwave takes them on a trial run against the bots. It probably goes well for the minis, since he would keep taking them out for 'testing' bc he's clearly not attached to them, no sir.

Now, as to their names? Well, y'know how the kids tend to tag along to fights? Miko saw them, and asked about the two new minis since they haven't showed up before, but the Autobots can't name them bc they didn't exist before Earth, (not that any of them knew that) so she just has to figure out their names, ("Calling them 'Thing 1 and Thing 2' is boring Jack" "So is calling them Aka and Ao!"). She tosses so many names back and forth with the other bots, even mid-battle ("What about Throwdown and Kickass?" "Not appropiate Miko") They started keeping a list to rank the best names, everyone expected to give at least one suggestion ("Raf you haven't said any names yet, c'mon just one?" "Jose y Maria?" "nevermind") Funniest thing is that once Miko finds the perfect names, ("Fisticuff and Hysteria are so cool, I have no idea what you guys are talking about") it turns out our minicons also chose. ("Hey, Rumble's a cool name!" "Yeah, Frenzy sounds awesome!")

Obviously, just like Ravage, Soundwave keeps these two for himself, and totally didn't help them pick names by replaying Miko's chatter among other internet searches. "Another one Soundwave? You're collecting extra bots like humans collect cassettes,"

For funzies, it's even better if Starscream had done one of his disappearing acts before Soundwave gets the twins, so when he comes back there's a mini hoard. "I swear when I left you only had two mini drone-" "Cassettes" "Right... Make sure your cassetticons are ready for the next mission,"

And that makes 4! Time for Buzzsaw :) :

Right, so typically Buzzsaw is counterpart to Laserbeak just like Rumble and Frenzy are to each other right? So what if Soundwave already had Buzzsaw, just how he already had Laserbeak, but during a mission they split up? Before they crashed on Earth, Soundwave had sent Buzzsaw on a scouting mission or something and wasn't able to get back to him before they left. So this whole time, he's been trying to find his way back to Soundwave, when he comes across, say, a Decepticon emergency shuttle that no bot was piloting and decides to take advantage of it, ignoring what looks like a bot in stasis. He pilots it to Earth, and when it crashed he flew out immediately, flying straight into the Nemesis, which he knows where it is bc if he can track Soundwave from lightyears away, he obviously can track him when they're on the same planet.

When he makes in on, he probably runs into everyone but Soundwave first, ("Oh... you're back," "Wow you really do look like Laserbeak" "It's good to have you back in our ranks,") Before he finally reunited with Soundwave, "Buzzsaw- you're back- Welcome"

Bringing it up to 5, let's move on with Ratbat! :

So when Shockwave's recreating the predacons, he doesn't go big or go home, it's only logical to start with a smaller creature to hammer out every detail before he makes the full scale ones. Soundwave is checking in on him for reasons when he sees the small prototype, and considering habit of collecting small bots it shouldn't come as a surprise when he pointed at the creature and asked "Oh shiny~ It's mine now, right?" in Knockout's voice. Shockwave just waved him off with a "It's merely a prototype that has outlived it's usefulness. If you deem it logical to keep, do with it what you will"

When he introduced it to the others, there was a it of mixed reactions, ("Wow, that looks just like that earth creature, a-" "Bat" "Rat" ... "Bat!" "Rat!" "Well I think it's small" "That's because you're huge Rav," "It has wings, that means it can fly right? Does that mean less shifts for me?") "Prototype- designation... 'Rat' 'Bat'? - is our new- cassettes" "You really just named it Ratbat? That's so uncreative, boss"

And then there were 6, as a little bonus, Wingthing! :

Y'all remember when they used a bit of Laserbeak to track down the Nemesis? Yeah so what if the bots designed a proper drone, building around the wing or whatever it was, making it as close to a real bot as they could to encourage it to return to Soundwave.

("We gotta name it!" "Miko no," "But why not, the last time I didn't get to name a bot so I wanna actually do it now! Let's see... it's a thing with wings...")

Obviously it made it's way to Laserbeak and Soundwave, who welcomed in the weird new drone bot. ("Does- creature has a- designation?") "Cassettes- welcome- Wingthing"

[serenescribe]

Ficlet request this https://www.tumblr.com/serenescribe/729720441588072448/day-5-of-ficlet-requests-do-you-like-time-travel

With general lilia reaction to seeing malleus in present when in his time he’s still a egg trying to hatch him

[✐] ficlet frenzy link to previous ficlet

The very existence of the boy before him is a miracle in and of itself.

None of them understand the reason why Lilia acts the way he does, eyes constantly trailing after the fae prince and lurking behind him at a distance. None of those foolish students do, busy as they are with their trivial little tasks of learning magic, their four years spent at this paltry school flying by in the blink of a fae’s eye. Not even the prince’s companions — Baul’s supposed grandson, Lilia’s supposed… future son, and his own flighty, witless older self, senile and losing his mind — understand his strange compulsion, the attraction he feels towards the Draconia heir.

Simply put, Lilia has never expected for Malleus to even exist.

He’d been entrusted with the egg in a last ditch effort, forced to watch his closest companion, Meleanor herself, fly off into a fruitless battle that would surely spell her doom. Lilia had spent years after that — the years melding into decades, until a century had passed — curled around the egg, trying everything he could to ensure it hatched. But such a thing was impossible, he had believed; after all, the offspring of draconic fae could only ever hatch with an outpouring of love, wreathed in warm affection until its shell finally cracked.

That is, until Lilia had somehow wound up in the future, wound up here.

Even now, the sight of Malleus still steals his breath away. He resembles so much of his mother — the twisting horns, those striking chartreuse eyes, the raven gloss of his hair. Though he is calmer, quieter, with a more pensive disposition than his mother ever had, there are things that resemble an echo of his parentage: the rage that manifests itself in thunder and lightning; the undeniable power radiating off of them in waves, a strength of magic most could only dream of having; but most of all, the kindness they wield, whether sweet or cruel, hidden by a temperament that makes them unapproachable to most.

Can anyone really fault him then, for feeling most at ease around the young prince?

Lilia studies him whenever he’s able to, when the young prince goes for walks through the campus, or even when he approaches Lilia himself in his little woodland campsite. Though Malleus resembles Meleanor in so many ways, there are other aspects of him that are wholly unfamiliar to Lilia. Above all else, there is his unwavering trust in humanity, a belief in the better facets of them that Meleanor never shared. It is a peculiarity that Lilia’s older self also wields — and he had been stunned when Malleus had informed him that it was he, himself, who taught him to seek peace with mankind.

Even now, it still feels like an impossibility to wrap his head around.

And yet…

The more time he spends with Malleus, conversing in a tranquil silence, listening as he regales Lilia with numerous tales — of his long, lonely childhood, of the years that Baul’s grandson and his supposed future son spent growing up, of the three short years spent at Night Raven College — the more Lilia thinks he can understand his older self.

It’s something for him to think about, at least, when he finally makes it back to his time.

[spingu]

.

[neallo]

ugh okay yeah now i've thought too much about writing and am making myself feel very weird and bad. i think it is sleep tiem

[moinsbienquekaworu]

How have I been in fandom for - going on 8 years (?) and not gotten into fanvids before?? All the association I could have been making.... All the memories.... All the composition and clever editing....

[fawniswriting]

𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗲𝘁 𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Synopsis: When a visit to his office leaves you shaken, Bucky becomes determined to take care of you.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warning(s): CEO!husband!bucky x wife!reader. protective!bucky. no use of y/n. use of nicknames sweetheart and angel. established (secret) relationship. reader is a damsel in distress. "GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY WIFE" 🗣🗣🗣 trope. public humiliation. physical violence (reader is manhandled - not by bucky). hurt/comfort. angst, fluff, smut (holy trifecta) (18+ mdni!!!). vaginal fingering. lots of praising. bucky is Scary™ and only soft for reader.

Author's Note: GUYS HI I'M ALIVE 👋🏼 so sorry for being MIA. work has been kicking my ass. I've literally been skipping lunch and working through weekends bcs of how crazy it is (yeah I know it's bad). but other than that, I've also been having the worst case of writer's block ever. I have three fics in my draft that I kept deleting and rewriting because none of them turned out good enough. this is the only half decent thing I managed to produce. not fully happy with this bcs I wanted to spend more time on it, but I've also been itching to put out something for you guys, so pls bear with me 😔 hopefully you'll still like it 🧡 don't forget to comment/like/reblog 💕

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

As soon as you step through the rotating doors, a relieved breath escapes your chest. 

The rain continues to patter outside, merciless in their mission to soak everyone who dares to leave the comfort of their home. Your wet hoodie clings to you like second skin; your cotton skirt dripping on the marble floors below. The back of your neck scorches as you notice a few sharp glances sliding your way. 

This is so not how you thought this day was going to go.

A quick coffee run with the girls had been the plan. The only plan. A chance to catch up with Wanda and Natasha amidst the unpredictability of everyone’s hectic schedules. Everything was going well. Up until the point you left the coffee shop, started the trek back towards the subway station, and realized something.

Your wallet was missing.

Not misplaced.

Not forgotten.

But actually missing.

You spent the next couple of hours retracing your steps—going back to the coffee shop, peering under evey chair and table, even asking the clueless barista if anyone had turned it in—but nothing. You even emptied your tote bag in the middle of the sidewalk at one point. Confirming that the wallet was, in fact, gone. To make matters worse, your phone had also died somewhere between Wanda showing you her latest painting project and Natasha's crude remarks about your sex life. In that raging desperation, you made a decision to resort to one last dramatic measure.

Bucky's office.

Inside your drenched sneakers, your toes curl. It’s silly for someone to feel this nervous about visiting their husband's place of work. But when the husband in question is none other than James Buchanan Barnes—CEO and founder of Barnes & Co.—you suppose the churning in your gut is somewhat justified. Especially when the prospect of visiting his office, impromptuly and without the dark cover of night, feels like crossing a threshold you've been avoiding for far too long.

You and Bucky have been together for over two years, married for one short, whirlwind month. The news of your wedding broke across the country like a hailstorm. Stirring a media frenzy and a nationwide intrigue revolving one question in particular.

Who is the woman that managed to conquer the heart of one of America's most eligible bachelors?

You've always dreaded the attention that comes with being Bucky's partner, hence why you asked to keep your identity a secret at the start of your relationship. And Bucky—despite having his reservations about not being able to love you loudly in front of the whole world—had agreed, but not before promising you that his world was yours to enter whenever you pleased.

You just never thought that the entrance would happen today.

The dribbles of rain have gathered into a puddle under your feet. You squirm as more eyes begin scrutinizing you as if you're a ketchup stain in their otherwise polished world of Rolexes and Armani-clad egos. Taking a deep breath, you will the thumping in your chest to abate, forcing your chin up as you stalk towards the front desk across the lobby.

The two receptionists are conversing among themselves when you approach, huddled over a phone on the desk. You’re about to open your mouth when the mention of a familiar name stops you dead in tracks.

“Bet she's just a ditzy arm candy,” one of them remarks. “I won’t be surprised if he found her at a yacht party.”

The other gasps scandalously, pausing mid-way of applying her dark red lipstick. “You think she's an escort?”

“I don’t think. I know.” The first one smirks. “But then again, a guy who looks like that? With that kind of money? Hell, he could probably get with any woman in the world.”

“Yeah, you're right. I'd gladly get on my knees and be the sidepiece if Bucky Barnes asked me.”

The two receptionists snicker.

A few paces away, you're standing with hands curled into fists, commanding the red hot emotion in your chest to dissipate before you do something you might regret.

Instead, you clear your throat.

Two pairs of eyes look up, and the moment they catch sight of you—teeth chattering and skirt trickling with mud—their expressions twist into something unpleasant. Dismissive. Judgemental in a way that causes your skin to crawl and your ears to ring.

“Can I help you?” asks the one with the red lipstick.

“Hi. Yes, please. I, uh—” you shift on your feet, “—I'm here to see Mr. Barnes.”

“He's in a meeting,” she replies, already tapping something on her keyboard. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but—”

“You need an appointment to see Mr. Barnes.” She smiles, so sickly sweet as she drags her eyes from your head to your toe. “I can't let you in. Sorry.”

“Okay. But I'm actually—”

“She said you can't go up, Ma’am,” the other receptionist interjects.

“If you could just call his office and tell them—”

“Mr. Barnes doesn't receive walk-ins,” says Red Lipstick, her gaze acrid when it lands on you. “Especially not from… strangers.”

You grit your teeth. “I'm his wife.”

The other receptionist snorts.

It takes everything in your power not to snap right then and there.

“Look,” you sigh, tugging at the hem of your drenched hoodie, “can I at least borrow a phone, then? Just to call his secretary?”

Red Lipstick sneers. “We're not a public phone booth.”

Next to her, the other receptionist doesn't even attempt to hide her smug smile. There is an ache prickling in the back of your eyes. You're soaked, freezing, and exhausted, and the last thing you need is to defend your identity in front of two people who seem to have resolved their judgement upon seeing your appearance. All you want to do right now is to get home, curl up in bed, and forget that this whole day ever happened in the first place.

“Fine,” you mutter, exhaling a stuttering breath, “I'll just wait then.”

You head towards the seating area several feet away, the leather squeaking the moment you sink down. Red Lipstick whispers something to her friend before picking up the desk phone.

Two minutes later, security shows up.

Chill licks up your spine as you watch the man in the uniform talking to the receptionist from earlier, the latter throwing daggers in your direction without bothering subtlety. You move your tote bag to your lap—as though the material can shield you from the impending confrontation—and clutch the canvas in a death grip when the security starts marching towards you.

“Ma'am.” The large man, all muscles and ear-piece, towers over you. “I need to ask you to leave the premises.”

You close your eyes.

This can't be happening.

“I'm not doing anything wrong.”

“You're causing a disruption.”

“Disruption?” you seethe, your voice shakier than you would like it to be. “I'm only sitting.”

“Please, Ma'am—”

“I'm just waiting for my husband, alright?” Your voice cracks. “Just—just please… give me five minutes. I'll just wait for his meeting to be over and—”

You don't get to finish your sentence.

Before you can fully process what is happening, the security guard has stomped forward, plunging his claws around your forearm, and jerks you up to your feet. You yelp as he begins to try and drag you away, scrambling to peel his vicious grip.

“Hey! What are you—? Let me go!”

“You need to stop resisting, Ma'am.”

“I'm not! Please, just… just let me go, you're hurting me!”

All around you, people have paused and begun watching. Businessmen halt mid-call. Women with perfect sleek buns turn their heads to lour at the sudden commotion. You're half certain that someone in the crowd has even pulled out a phone to record the whole thing. 

And yet, none of them steps forward to help.

Shame creeps up your neck, burning in tandem with the ache that now travels through your arm. Your sneakers screech against the marble floors as the security heaves you across the lobby, unperturbed by your whines of pain and your desperate pleas. 

No one seems to care.

That is until a voice breaks through your choked cries.

“What the hell is going on here?”

The crowd falls into a sudden hush, panting like the Red Sea to reveal the figure standing in front of the closing elevator doors.

Bucky Barnes.

His suit jacket is unbuttoned, tie slightly loosened from the tumult of the day. You can almost picture him tugging repeatedly at that piece of fabric as he sits in one of his tediously long meetings—the same tie that you bought for him several months prior. His steel-blue eyes scan the surroundings, flicking from the mass of foreign faces standing in his lobby to the scene that has seemingly rendered everyone frozen on their spot. His gaze lands on you—dripping, scared, and on the verge of crying—and immediately zeroes in on the security guard's iron grip around your forearm.

Bucky steps forward.

And something inside of him snaps.

"Get. Your fucking hands. Off my wife."

The meeting is running long.

Too long.

Bucky keeps glancing at the clock above the screen monitor, counting down the minutes until the longer hand strikes twelve. He barely hears the pitch being presented. Not when his mind isn't even present in the room. His phone sits face-down on the table, buzzing occasionally with email notifications, meeting reminders, missed phone calls, but not from the one person who matters the most.

You.

He sighs quietly.

When the final slide clicks off and the lights turn on again, Bucky doesn't waste time standing to his feet. “Good work,”  he says, already halfway out of the door. “We'll review the proposal and follow up. That's all.”

He doesn’t even give his team a chance to respond.

The hallway is deserted as he walks past. Bucky enters his office and shuts the door behind him, checking his phone to see the last four messages he has sent to you.

[08.28 AM] Have fun with Wanda and Nat. I'll see you tonight, angel ❤️

[11.47 AM] Still with the girls, sweetheart?

[12.04 PM] Let me know once you're home

[01.58 PM] Angel?

His jaw clenches.

Bucky presses the call button and brings the device to his ear, cursing when the line goes straight to voicemail. You never do this—leave his messages hanging for hours like this. You always answer—with a text or a phone call, sometimes with a single emoji response when you're too busy or too tired to form a proper one. A total silence is unheard of, and Bucky knows that this can mean one of two things.

Either your phone is dead… or something is wrong.

Bucky’s gut plummets.

He hits another number on his phone, his driver instantly answering on the second ring.

“Bring the car to the front,” Bucky orders. “I'm heading home.”

“Yes, sir.”

Bucky moves in quick lightning. Gathering his things and shoving important documents into his briefcase. He leaves the office and stops by his secretary's desk, who shoots out of her seat immediately upon seeing him.

“Cancel everything else for today. I'm going home.”

“Wait, what? But, Mr. Barnes, you still have—”

“I don’t care,” he says, already turning towards the elevator. “I need to check on my wife.”

Inside the elevator, Bucky fiddles with his cuffs, trying not to imagine the worst. There is a good chance you probably just forgot to charge your phone and got way too caught up reuniting with your friends to notice the time. Maybe you're already back home, asleep, snoring softly into his pillow. Maybe there really is no reason for Bucky to worry.

But he does worry.

Bucky has been worried for sometime. Particularly since the story of your wedding broke a month ago. 

He didn't say anything to keep you from stressing, but on the second week of your honeymoon in the Caribbean, Bucky received word from his security team that a stalker had tried to break into his house in Westchester. The perpetrator was caught and handed to the police before things could escalate, but it still wasn't enough to ease Bucky's mind. He had to relocate your residence temporarily to his penthouse in Manhattan—telling you a little white lie about doing some renovations at the house. Thankfully, you're none the wiser. You've always loved living at the heart of the bustling city, anyway.

The elevator doors open with a ding.

Bucky steps out, pausing in his tracks when he realizes there is a horde gathering in the lobby. People are murmuring among themselves, their necks craning as they attempt to sneak a peek at the center of the ruckus. Bucky's brows furrow.

“What the hell is going on here?” he bellows.

The crowd parts.

Bucky examines his surroundings. Seeing at least two people with their phones out, receptionists standing behind their desks, and heads turning towards a scene unfolding near the sofas.

There is a man there.

A man in uniform—a security guy—who has his hand around a woman's arm, trying to drag her away across the lobby.

The woman is drenched and shaking, voice hoarse from pleas that have fallen on deaf ears. When he finally catches her eyes—your eyes—blown wide with panic, the rest of the world seems to evaporate.

Bucky sees red.

“Get. Your fucking hands. Off my wife.”

The security guard falters, just for the briefest of milliseconds, but it's all Bucky needs to yank his hands off you. He shoves the guard so hard the man stumbles nearly five feet back. Bucky doesn't stop there—he grabs the guard by his collars, the man now trembling with fear in front of him. It doesn’t matter. Not to Bucky. Not after what he just saw this man was doing to you.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?!” Bucky froths, face twisting into stone. “Touching my wife like that? Dragging her out? Do you want me to fucking kill you?!”

“S-Sir, I—”

“Bucky.”

His head snaps.

Your voice is meek beneath the tense air of the lobby, but it reaches him nonetheless. It always does. One short utterance of his name from you is all it takes for Bucky to loosen his grip on the security guard, his breath catching in his throat as he finally takes you in—soaked to the skin, shivering, shoes drenched under your feet.

Everything else melts away.

In two long strides, Bucky is now standing before you, his large palms cradling your face with a softness that startlingly opposes the man that has threatened death upon another human being five seconds ago. There is a pinch in his forehead as he studies your face. His face contorting as if the sight of you alone has plunged a blade so deeply into his soul.

“Sweetheart.” His voice breaks. “What happened?”

Your lips quiver. “I-I'm sorry, Bucky. I didn't mean to… I lost my wallet, and my phone’s dead. Then it just—it started raining, and I—I didn’t know what else to do—”

“Shh, angel. It's okay.” He tugs you close, arms wrapping around you without hesitation, not caring the fact that your rain-soaked clothes are probably ruining his expensive suit. You press into him, an involuntary shudder running through your limbs. “Shit, angel, you're freezing.”

Bucky shrugs out of his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders, firm hands rubbing your back to transfer some of his warmth to you. His voice is so unbearably tender as it falls on your ears.

 “I’ve got you now,” he whispers. “You’re safe, angel. I’ve got you.”

Then, Bucky turns. 

Slowly.

“You,” he barks at the security guard, blue eyes burning with hellfire. “Explain. Now.”

The guard swallows. “Sir, I-I didn’t know. The receptionist said she was causing a disturbance. Said she was crazy. Claimed she was your wife. I was just following—”

“She is my wife.” Bucky’s voice is deathly quiet. Venomous. “And you fucking manhandled her.”

“I-I didn’t mean to—”

Bucky turns his gaze towards the front desk.

The girl with the red lipstick is now as white as a sheet. Beside her, the other receptionist doesn't seem to be doing much better.

“Mr. Barnes,” Red Lipstick begins. “I didn’t—I didn’t know. She didn’t look like… She just sat on the furniture like she owned the place, and she—”

“She does own the damn place,” Bucky snaps. “And she told you who she was. And instead of doing the one job you have—calling my office—you humiliated her. Called security. Let this entire lobby watch while you treat her like dirt.”

“I—I was just trying to—”

Bucky raises his hand.

The girl's jaw snaps shut.

“I want all of you gone. Now. Security. Receptionists. Both of you. Fired. I don’t want to see any of you here again.”

The other receptionist tries to speak, “But sir—”

“Do you want me to fucking repeat myself?”

The three of them stay quiet.

Bucky turns back to you then, still enveloped in his jacket, looking smaller and more vulnerable than the person he knows you to be. Something inside him splinters at the sight.

“Let’s get you home, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

He guides you through the lobby, tucking you against his side as if he's afraid to let even an inch of space separate the two of you from now on. Before he reaches the rotating doors, Bucky halts his steps. He sweeps his gaze across the crowd, a raging flame in his sternum when he sees some people with their phones still out.

Bucky takes out his own mobile, typing in something without ever retracting his other arm away from your frame. Seconds later, his driver appears through the rotating doors, taking a subtle double take at your state, before nodding dutifully at the two of you.

“I want you to get all the names of the people in this lobby,” Bucky commands. “Give them to me by tomorrow. Check their phones. Confiscate them if you find anything of my wife. Prepare a fund to reimburse them for the device, we will not be returning them.”

The driver nods.

“Oh, by the way—” Bucky adds, gesturing at the security guard and the two receptionists, “—those three? I want them gone by the end of the day. Make sure to blacklist their names. Notify our partners as well.”

With that, Bucky leads you away again. Out of the office, out of the rumpus, and straight into the safety of his arms.

By the time you reach the apartment, New York City is in mourning.

The rain has exploded into a full-blown storm. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, you can see the darkness that has befallen the entire city. The roar of thunder echoes through the floor, still rough, still formidable, but a little quieter now that you're swaddled in the safety of your home.

Next to you, another thunder is subsiding.

Bucky doesn't let go of your hand as you step further into the apartment. He holds you like you're procelain, tucking you a little closer into his side every time he feels a tremble running through you. His lips are pressed onto your temple as he leads you towards the hallway.

“You're shivering, sweetheart,” he points out. “Let me run you a bath, okay?”

You don't have the energy to respond.

In the bathroom, Bucky guides you to sit on the toilet. He moves through the space like a domesticated cyclone—filling in the tub, lighting up your favorite candles, adding in that lavender and eucalyptus oil that he knows you love. Steam is rising within minutes. Bucky turns back to you with the gaze of a man who is trying to spell out love with his eyes alone.

“I'm gonna take off your clothes now, alright?” 

He sheds each layer with reverence. As if he was revealing your secrets rather than taking off rain-soaked worn cotton. Bucky pauses every now and then to squeeze your hand, peppering tiny kisses along the knuckles, shifting closer every time he detects gooesbumps on your skin.

The whole thing is so sweet.

He is so sweet.

And it makes the whole dam you've been straining to uphold finally collapses.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, surprising him.

“Sorry?” Bucky is perplexed. “Angel, why are you sorry?”

“S-Sorry for… for showing up like that. For making a scene. I shouldn't—I must’ve embarrassed you—”

“Hey,” he says firmly, cupping your face in his hands. “No. Don’t do that.”

Tears cling to your lashes.

“You can never embarrass me, sweetheart. You’re my wife. The most important thing in my life. If anything, I should’ve been there sooner. None of this is on you.” Bucky brushes his nose to yours, massaging the nape of your neck. “I'm so sorry, angel. You didn’t deserve to go through any of that.”

Your breath stammers. 

Bucky leans back and presses his lips to your forehead.

“Come on.” He smiles. So tender and loving you think you might unravel completely. “Let me take care of you.”

He helps you into the tub, guiding you down into the warmth with a steady hand on your back. The water laps against your skin, chasing the chill from your aching bones as well as your bruised heart. The next thing that comes out of your mouth is a relieved sigh.

Bucky moves to stand.

Your hand shoots out and curls around his wrist before he can rise.

“Join me,” is all you say.

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

Bucky never takes his eyes off you even when he starts stripping down his clothes. He steps behind you in the tub, tugging you to his chest the moment he has settled into the bath. Your whole body liquefies on instinct the second his arms engulf your middle.

“I’ve got you now,” he murmurs, pledging the words to your temple. “You’re safe.”

Bucky reaches for your soap, lathering his plams with the scent of lavender and peppermint. You sigh and sink deeper into his chest as you feel his touch working over your skin—shoulders, arms, the curve of your back. He kisses each spot every time he finishes rinsing it off, running his tongue down your neck, whispering praises with each breath.

“So strong. So brave.” He nips at your ear. “So proud of you, sweetheart. I love you so much.”

Bucky continues peppering your skin with kisses. Experimenting with the graze of his teeth and the scrape of his tongue. You squirm in his hold when his fingers begin swiping at your chest. Subtle, at first, but then he takes a nipple between his fingers and twist it just enough to make you mewl in delight.

It's the best goddamn sound he has ever heard on this planet.

He begins massaging your breast with his left hand, the other one sliding lower and lower with every bruise he is sucking into your neck. Bucky parts your nether lips, feeling you soft and compliant under his touch. You jolt in his arms the moment he skims over your sensitive nub.

“B-Bucky—”

“Shh, I got you, angel. Don't worry,” he soothes, burying his face in your throat. “Just feel me. Gonna make you feel so good, okay? Just lean back and relax for me.”

You follow his instruction, letting yourself fall back onto his chest. Bucky starts rubbing you slowly, earnestly, circling his fingers around the one place that is yearning for him, never quite touching it just to tease those breathless sounds out of you even further. In front of him, you're panting. Your hips grinding against his hand as you attempt to chase more of those heavenly feelings.

“Look at you,” Bucky muses, relishing the way you're chasing more of his touch. “Always so beautiful for me. You know that, don't you, sweetheart?”

“Bucky,” you whine.

“Shh, I know, angel. I know. Doing so good for me.”

Bucky rubs his fingers over your clit, groaning when the motion tears a wrecked sound out of your throat. He carries on with his ministrations, playing your body like a musician would their favorite instrument. Alternating between lazy strokes and desperate flicks that have you gasping and writhing against him. 

“Oh God.” You close your eyes, brows creasing when Bucky eventually plunges two fingers into your heat.

He moves them in and out of you languidly. Curling his digits, feeling your walls contract and suck him deeper each time he stimulates that one spot that always paints your vision with stars. You're gripping his forearm now. Your head falling back onto his shoulder as his other hand slides downward towards your bundle of nerves.

Everything feels heightened.

Everything feels good.

You angle your head to the side and kiss his jaw as you feel a familiar knot forming in your abdomen.

“Bucky,” you whimper, locking your eyes with his. “I-I'm gonna—oh God, don't stop—I wanna—”

“Wanna cum, angel?” Bucky purrs, running his nose down your cheekbone. “Can feel you squeezing my fingers—shit. Go ahead, sweetheart. Let go for me. Let me see you.”

You come apart within seconds. The murmurs of Bucky's encouragement as your music and the kisses he leaves on your shoulder as your anchor. His fingers continue to drag in and out of you with reverence, prolonging your pleasure, never once relenting until he is sure you've given him everything that you could.

“That's it, sweetheart. You did so well.” He tilts your chin up, leaving a chaste kiss in the corner of your lips. “Such a good girl for me.”

He holds you until your breathing slows, until the thrum under your skin quietens and your nerve endings stop lighting up in flames. Bucky helps you out of the bath with a towel already warm in his hands, drying you carefully, each brush a well-concocted plan because he knows you deserve nothing less than the utmost form of care.

Once you're dressed, Bucky leads you to your shared bed. You're already half asleep by the time he tucks the covers around your frame, brushing his thumb across your cheek.

“I love you,” he confesses into the quiet. “You’re my whole world, angel.”

You blink at him, eyes drowsy but warm. “Love you, too.”

Bucky slides in beside you, pulling you close until your head is rested on his chest and your hand finds the steady beating of his heart.

Outside, the storm continues to rage. Anguish in its name and its promise, chasing thunders with the stable clatter of the rain.

Inside, though, it's quiet. A stretch of silence merely rustled by the intakes of breath and the soft snores of Bucky's whole life—his wife. His world. Kept securely inside the certainty of his embrace where nothing and no one else would be able to lay their hands on you.

And with that reassurance, Bucky closes his eyes, drifting off with his heart stitched solidly to yours.

[an-android-child]

¡JAJA! YOU HAVE ACTIVATED MY AUTISM TRAP CARD

SPECIAL INTEREST

SO, first let's get to Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne's clusterfuck of a relationship.

As everyone will tell you, comic's canon is like gender: a social construct. If anyone tries to tell you there's a main canon they're lying to you. It's true that the comics TRY to market it as such, and we've been through so many reboots and continuities that I believe the present default is, literally, that everything is canon, depending on what the writer or story calls for. Which is as confusing as it sounds, and has been regarded as, possibly, the move of all time.

And I want to make it explicitly clear that I am not taking Elseworlds (official dc aus for their ocs, like Batman being a pirate and shit like that) into account. This is literally all "main continuity" in all its rebooted as shit glory. I'll specify what continuity I mean, but basically know that every once in a while DC has the compulsive need to kill off their entire character universe and start it all again "from the beginning", except it's literally never that because half of this reboots need the reader to know the characters already, so what's the point, and that they tend to just make everything worse and deliver the most dumb possible comic events in history, with few exceptions. But that's a personal opinion and it literally doesn't matter.

At the end of the day, here's the thing. There are... A shit ton of interpretations about their relationship, because it literally varies from writer to writer. No, I'm not kidding.

Let's start from the beginning. Literally.

First Main Universe

Detective Comics (1937) #38

Writer: Bill Finger

The first appearance of Dick Grayson is hilarious because it doesn't mention any legal procedure regarding anything related to the fact that Dick's an orphan now. Batman sees a traumatized child and thinks "is anybody gonna kidnap that" and doesn't wait for an answer. There's no real label for their relationship either, aside from the cover's vague remark of "taken under his mantle", and literally those two panels where it implies that Dick will be working with Bruce as an aide or something. Or better said, that they will be going on adventures together lmao. I mean, I guess.

Also unrelated but I love the fact that Bruce caves like a wet paper towel for his kids so much, even at the beginning. No, you can't be a crime fighter vigilante, wait no no don't look at me like that here I'll train you for months here's my secret identity and all my money please come live at my very big and lonely mansion

Detective Comics (1937) # 39 & #43 & #47

Writer: Bill Finger

So yeah, for a while, the og Batman writer basically referred to Dick as an aide. Whatever that means. Unpaid internship go brrrrrrrr.

Detective Comics (1937) #40

Writer: Bill Finger

But even from the beginning, it was obvious that their relationship was special and that they cared for each other. Hell, Dick was the first person to ever know Batman's secret identity. That's a huge ass deal. Not even his fiancé knew. Before Alfred even existed, Dick Grayson was already living in that house lmao.

Detective Comics (1937) #41

Writer: Bill Finger

The FIRST ever mention of any type of legal relationship between them is this off-hand comment made when they're trying to infiltrate a boarding school to find some killer I can't remember the name of. I place some legitimacy in it because they're literally going as Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson, no disguises. When did Bruce do the paperwork for this? When did the trial take place? Who knows! It will be explained. Later. Somewhat. Don't think about it.

As time progressed, the relationship became more explicitly parental. You could argue this was because of the controversy, but whatever it may be for, Bruce doesn't shy away from telling/showing Dick how much he loves him. He also does it when he thinks no one's paying much attention to him lol

Batman (1940) #20 (this issue is very cute)

Writer: Bill Finger

Batman (1940) #66

Writer: Bill Finger

Sometimes though, he would insist they were just the best of friends.

Detective Comics (1937) #166

Writer: Don C. Cameron (i'm not sure if it's really him, but i can't find any other sources claiming any other writer, and it kinda seems like his writing style)

Ironically, Dick seems to be the one to insist they're just good friends the most, which I find an interesting choice.

Batman (1940) #3 & #20 & #118

Writer: Bill Finger

Except... When he doesn't.

Batman (1940) #57

Writer: Bill Finger

Batman (1940) #339

Writer: Gerry Conway

Either way, don't be fooled. No matter what, this little guy cares.

Batman (1940) #13 (in this story Bruce is just pulling off a ruse with a dummy so Dick doesn't get killed, but instead of telling him he leaves the house lmao. Also, oh, the irony)

Writer: Bill Finger

The general consensus though, if there's anything like that in a world as cruel as this one, is that Dick was never formally adopted, just taken in as a ward. This was because, in the 40's, single men couldn't adopt even if they wanted to, so that was the next best thing. But that's another entire can of worms.

So yeah, Dick was never really adopte-

Detective Comics (1937) #145

Writer: Don C. Cameron (again, I can't be sure, but the comic references two other issues written by him, and I'll eat my left shoe if it's anyone else)

Yeah let's just. Let's just move on.

Second Main Universe

In the second universe, things start getting messy. Writers have decided angst is what they want, and their relationship becomes way more rocky. They fight, Dick becomes Nightwing, Bruce gets his back broken, Jason fucking dies, not in that order. Y'know the drill. The focus on father and son shifts, but let's start with the basics.

For some context, in this universe Dick isn't adopted, but Bruce is his legal guardian.

The Untold Legend of the Batman (1980) #2

Writer: Len Wein

So yeah, Dick isn't adopte-

Robin (1993) #0 (thank you so much @northoftheroad for helping me find this instance!!! there are way too many comics sometimes lmaoo. i recommend her blog so much, and she specializes in Dick's whole comic history)

Writer: Chuck Dixon

Ignore that.

He's just a ward-

Robin (1993) Annual #4

Writer: Chuck Dixon (IS HE ADOPTED OR NOT DIXON)

Ignore that.

I meant foster chil-

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (1989) #100

Writer: Dennis O'Neil

Fuck.

Look. This is a mess, we both know it. Let's pretend consistency is a thing that exists and that DC gives a shit about it.

In the second universe, Dick ISN'T adopted, and doesn't care much that he hasn't bee-

Tales of the Teen Titans (1984) #50

Writers: Marv Wolfman & George Pérez

I actually meant that he cares and wants to be Bruce's so-

Batman (1940) #439

Writer: Marv Wolfman

I mean, he was a child when he said that! Character development I guess! In a way! It's the same author. I don't understand the point of the conversation at the wedding if Dick literally asked him not to. I can get behind tha-

Secret Origins (1986) #13 (thank you so much @tiffanybluesclues for helping me find this instance!!! they have this super fricking cool meta i can't recoomend enough if you want to see more clearly for yourself what Bruce's and Dick's whole deal is about lmao)

Writer: Dan Mishkin

Okay this is getting ridic-

Batman (1940) #217

Writer: Frank Robbins

YEAH. WHY NOT

DID I MENTION THAT THIS UNIVERSE TRIES FOR THE BROTHER ANGLE. Except when it doesn't.

In the First Universe we had the best friends angle, now we have the brother one. They want to keep Bruce young so bad, even at the cost of consistency.

Robin (1993) Annual #4

Writer: Chuck Dixon

And also the best friend angle. Again. Because of course we do.

All this mess is just the first two universes and I'm leaving so many details out. Jesus Fuck.

Third Main Universe

The universe I was referencing, the one where Dick is adopted by Bruce as an adult, is the third main continuity. From one of my favourite comic writers (who was done so dirty, and I'll never forgive some fans for how they treat her, or DC editorial for not letting her finish her Nightwing story properly).

Batman: Gotham Knights (2000) #17 (this issue was released in 2001)

Writer: Devin Grayson (my beloved)

You'd think this would be a pivotal moment for their relationship, in the sense that it would shape how other authors wrote them from then on. As times have changed, the focus on a much more character driven story has been the cause for many changes in DC comics. One of the reasons the Second Universe was so full of angst (not as much as people make it out to be, but way more than we were used to), was precisely that fact. And now, in the present, one could argue the focus is still there, perhaps even more so. You'd think this would mark the end of an era, the beginning of another. You'd be correct, in literally any other circumstance.

But this is DC.

52 (2006) #30 (this issue was released in 2007)

Writers: Geoff Johns & Grant Morrison & Greg Rucka & Mark Waid

Batman and Robin (2009) #7 (this issue was released in 2010)

Writer: Grant Morrison

Batman (1940) #713 (this issue was released in 2011)

Writer: Fabian Nicieza

This will always be DC.

Fourth Main Universe

Nightwing (2011) #0

Writers: Kyle Higgins & Tom DeFalco

So, yeah. Canon is a social construct. Some writers see them as brothers, some as best friends, some as equals, some as father and son, some as fricking colleagues, and I'm sure you can find someone who sees them as lovers. This is literally a pick your poison type of deal here.

And all of this. All of this just to talk about Dick and Bruce. I have barely even touched the present continuity (the fourth one, I'm not counting soft reboots because everytime a new writer appears it is a soft reboot istG). I haven't even gotten to Jason.

I'll do a part two in the reblogs later about him, lmao. Probably make my own post as not to clog op's notes (this was supposed to be a short answer and it got way too long)

If you want some recs about a character in particular, or a specific type of relationship, feel free to hit me up! I'll see what I can find

dick and jason trying to give tim the crash course on what it's like to be robin, except tim leaves the conversation more confused than he was before, because everyone quickly had the realisation that there was. definitely a favourite child

dick goes on about how bruce's teachings gave him healthy outlets for his grief and anger etc etc, whilst jason's very much confused because he was kinda under the impression that robin was an outlet for bruce's feelings.

dick says that the father-mentor ratio was really well balanced during his time as robin, and bruce always saw him as a son first. and jason's just like "....i didn't even know he saw me as his son until after i died????"

[thistlerock]

Gorgug has tusks and Riz has fangs and they are such creatures and they are. Friends. Gorgug growls and Riz hisses and they actually both do some variation of a chirp or chitter and Gorgug's rage is a frenzy and Riz's bloodlust is a fury and it is. Good. They are not human and they do not have to be.

Also Riz claws and tail. Also you know how dogs and I think other canines but idk I'm not a mammal guy start drooling/foaming at the mouth because of overexertion or stress or anxiety? Gorgug when he's raging. This is less because he's half orc and more because he's specifically a berserker* and that subclass goes crazy. Frenzy, mindless rage, okay bitch we're snarling and drooling and animal and taking a level of exhaustion afterwards. Love that.

Solace is fantasy racist sometimes and I think they both separately had some trouble accepting themselves and their less palatable features and I probably rambled about that in a long post I can't remember rn but they do now and they are so good and I adore them.

*"For some barbarians, rage is a means to an end – that end being violence. The Path of the Berserker is a path of untrammeled fury, slick with blood. As you enter the berserker's rage, you thrill in the chaos of battle, heedless of your own health or well-being." - The Player's Handbook

[heirofnight]

finally

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 4.6k - this one's a doozy, buckle up.

based on this request: Hi hi can I get an angsty Azriel x fem!reader fic. Basically they’re mates but they don’t have the best relationship for whatever reason. Rhysand sends them on a mission somewhere and somehow Azriels mind gets taken over and he attacks reader. She doesn’t want to leave Azriel even though he begs her to before he lost control because despite everything she did love him. Reader ends up getting hurt but was thankfully able to reach out to Rhysand in time. Rhysand then clears Azriels mind from whatever was done to him. Azriel ofc beats himself up over it, but then they kiss and makeup.

content warnings: talk of death, reader gets attacked, choking

a/n: this was a TRIP to write. for all of you requesting angst, i'm serving it on a silver platter. i hope you love it! first time writing a fic based on a request, so i hope i did it justice. let me know what you think! as always, lightly edited. pls ignore any mistakes <3

"are you serious?", you spat out, scoffing in disbelief. you crossed your arms across your chest immediately, your body language depicting just how frustrated you were.

azriel stood next to you, keeping way too much distance for a male that was apparently, allegedly your mate.

some mate, you sneered within your swirling mind. you'd both still refused to accept the bond, and if anything, it had just made the already avoidant relationship between the both of you even worse.

you were convinced that this was some sort of divine mistake, there was simply no way that azriel was your mate. we have absolutely nothing in common, another brief thought that had you glancing at him from the corner of your peripheral - just to find him standing in the exact same stance that you currently held. arms crossed, body language defensive, expression stoic.

you cleared your throat and quickly dropped your arms to your sides, straightening your spine before meeting rhys' violet gaze once more. his eyes sparkled with amusement, knowing exactly what you were thinking. whether you were that transparent, or he had actually caught you with your mental shields down - you didn't know. the wards within your mind were the least of your concerns right now.

"i am absolutely serious, i'm afraid", rhys smirked, enjoying the entertainment of watching both you and azriel spiral towards an inevitable juvenile skirmish. especially at his own hand.

azriel huffed a frustrated breath, his shadows becoming more frenzied as they ebbed and flowed around his body. you glanced at him once more, noticed the way his wings had drooped in defeat. you found yourself beginning to admire his side profile, his sculpted, pretty features calling to you in a moment of weakness. you quickly averted your gaze.

you'd never claimed he wasn't attractive, that much about him was painfully obvious. and since he was - unfortunately - your mate, there were moments where it felt as though every fiber, cell, and atom of your body were screaming for his. you'd wondered if he ever felt the same.

"rhys, this is ridiculous. there is no reason for her to join me. i never have help on missions - i never need it," his words grew more strained as he spoke, his last words ending in a near-snarl.

you rolled your eyes at his arrogance, throwing your hands up in exasperation before letting them slap against your thighs. "oh, i'm so sorry, azriel. how could i possibly offer any significant knowledge or assistance with this job, when you're already the most wisest, skilled, and capable male ever gifted by the gods? how can any of us forget - we pale in comparison to the all-feared shadowsinger," your tone was mocking as you turned towards him, cheeks reddening in exasperation.

azriel met your gaze, eyes narrowed as he deadpanned, "most wise".

you narrowed your own gaze to match his, "what?", you scoffed out.

"you said most wisest. that makes no sense. i believe you meant most wise," he stated dryly, tone emotionless.

your cheeks reddened further, expression twisting into one of pure anger. it didn't help that you heard rhys struggling to hold back a bark of laughter.

"okay, honestly, fuck yo-", you began, ready to spit pure venom straight into his veins with your words.

"enough," rhys commanded, voice booming. you froze, huffing out a breath before looking over at the high lord - he was now standing, his hands braced against the surface of his desk. his eyes held no amusement, no laughter. he was fed up.

"you are to both deploy on this mission. you are to both work together to track down this rebel group of daemati, and you are to both report back here with your findings. you keep each other safe. you work together. and you stop this childish bickering," rhys stated, his tone taking on a quality of pure nobility.

he looked between both you and azriel with striking violet eyes. "you leave tomorrow. am i clear?", the high lord questioned, and you knew he required an answer.

"yes," you and your mate replied at the same time, in the same brooding tone. rhys quirked an eyebrow at that, smirking slyly.

"great. have fun, you two," he gave a swooping gesture with his arm in dismissal.

the next morning, you and azriel departed right after breakfast. it was a shared - albeit silent - meal, and you found yourself glancing up at him behind the rim of your glass every single time you took a sip. you didn't know it, but azriel was sparing you the same glances as he ate his porridge.

the rebel group of daemati were last known to be located near the northern edge of the day court's borders - nearing the court of nightmares. the plan was to teleport close to the border itself, and you and azriel both knew that you'd more than likely have to track them from that location to wherever they were now.

you'd left from the house of wind's balcony after eating - azriel reluctantly placing a large hand on your shoulder before teleporting you both in a blanket of darkness and swirling shadows.

once the shadows dissipated, you'd found yourselves in a chilled, heavily wooded patch of forest. you blinked a few times, gaining your bearings. before your eyes had even fully focused on where you were, azriel was stalking off to your left, already on the prowl.

you rolled your eyes, jogging after him in order to catch up. "is your plan to 'accidentally' lose me in the woods?", you sneered, your legs burning as you tried to keep up with his long strides. you crouched down hastily to avoid a low-hanging branch that almost collided with your cheek. you'd been too busy glaring at the side of azriel's head to notice it.

he huffed, his boots crunching against fallen leaves. "keep up, and you won't get lost," he offered, his shadows darting out ahead of him to scout the surrounding area for traces of your target.

you grumbled, eyeing his smoky tendrils as they swirled in different directions. "prick," you said under your breath, pushing another branch out of your path.

you could have sworn you saw the corner of his lips quirk upward at your comment, an action that you would have almost found endearing if it weren't for the current situation you found yourself in. as much as you didn't want to admit it to yourself, you were nervous. you'd never been on a mission, especially not one that felt as high stakes as this one. daemati were dangerous. able to enter, control - and if trained enough, completely shatter - minds without so much as blinking. sure, as a scholar, you'd had brief knowledge on how to handle their kind, but coming across one daemati was rare - much less an entire pissed off group of them.

this could end terribly. and you did not want to be the one to sabotage this outing.

one single coil of shadow darted back towards azriel, whispering against the shell of his ear. "this way," he pointed to your right with a scarred hand, and you adjusted your path accordingly. you found your gaze following his hand as he lowered it to his side once more, and azriel glanced down, noticing where your eyes had landed.

he felt his pulse quicken, not sure what to make of your sudden interest in his hands. it was already an insecurity of his, and he knew that you'd not be shy to prey on that fact.

he cleared his throat, running that same hand through his hair in order to break your gaze. you inhaled a sharp breath, realizing you'd been caught. you opted to stare straight ahead instead, the normal silence between the both of you now feeling awkward.

should you say something? you didn't want him to think you'd been looking at the skin of his hands in disgust. it was the furthest thing from the truth. and while you weren't the hugest fan of his, you would never think poorly of him in regards to his trauma.

"i -," you started, clearing your own throat now. he glanced over at you from the corner of his eye, not urging you to finish.

"i've always thought they were beautiful - your hands," you said sincerely, voice nothing more than a whisper that you were certain a gust of wind could carry away on a breeze - never to be heard.

he took a deep breath, blowing it out through his nose harshly.

"thank you," he said softly, nodding once.

a lifeline, that's what it felt like.

my mate, he thought to himself, trudging forward.

you'd both continued on in comfortable silence for the next few hours. the bundle of nerves in the pit of your stomach was beginning to unravel, and you had to admit: you felt safe with azriel. not that you'd assumed he'd leave you for dead at any point during this mission - at the very least, rhys had commanded he return you to velaris safely. even if azriel somehow personally wanted you dead, he wouldn't defy his high lord's orders.

regardless, you were beginning to feel safe alongside him on your own accord.

a few times, you'd attempted to speak. pointing out various birds that you'd seen perched in the high branches of trees, or remarking on types of flowers that you'd walk past - many of which weren't native to velaris. azriel would notice the way your voice perked up as you spoke of them, noticed a certain kind of wistful joy that crept into your eyes, widening your pupils.

his own gaze began to soften as he observed you, finding your wholesome awe endearing. he listened carefully as you passionately explained each finding. cute, he'd thought briefly, warming up to your company. your hair whipped around you on a stray breeze, a strand catching right across your nose. his hand twitched, the urge to effortlessly brush it from your face filling him to the brim. but before he was able to build up the courage to do so, you'd beat him to it, and his hand stilled.

you were just about to point out yet another bird flying across the dusk-dusted sky when a familiar tendril of shadow approached azriel's ear.

"silence," he whispered in a hushed tone, halting his steps. he tensed up alongside you, his wings pulling in tightly at his back.

you closed your mouth, swallowing what you'd meant to say. you froze in place slightly behind him, waiting with shallow breaths for his next order.

"up ahead," he whispered, nodding his chin towards what looked to be a plume of smoke rising into the chilled air. your eyes followed the path of his gaze, and you squinted to make out the scene before you.

azriel crouched next to your still-standing form as he attempted to get a better look from a different angle.

it appeared to be a campsite of some sort - whoever was stationed there had clearly decided to stop traveling for the evening. the sun was quickly lowering behind the mountain range in the distance, and the air was even more frigid than when you'd both begun your trek. you felt a shiver wrack through your body, and azriel glanced up at you, frowning slightly.

he watched as you studied the growing fire before the both of you, his gaze lingering for just a second too long. you looked down at him, your eyes meeting for the first time all day. your breath hitched at the eye contact, and you faltered for a moment.

"so do we-", you spoke quietly.

"let's just-", he spoke at the same time.

you smiled warmly, dropping your head and huffing out a laugh.

he smirked, grabbing your wrist gently to pull you down to his level. "my shadows picked up on a few daemati tracks. i'm assuming its a small group - they must have decided to stop here for the evening. i'm guessing it's four, maybe five of them," he explained in a hushed tone, his eyes finding the campsite once more.

you thought for a moment, observing him.

"so, what's the best way to go about this?", you asked, voice soft.

he was about to reply, but his body froze, mouth poised to speak but nothing emerged.

there was a momentary pause before his expression transformed into one of pain, pure agony. he grunted, bracing his arms against the ground beneath him. his eyes were screwed shut in pain.

you startled, falling back onto your butt as you took in the scene before you with wide eyes.

no, no no no.

you supposed your brain knew what was happening before your body could react.

and that's when you felt it, a stifling, world-ending level of pain - unrelenting pain that felt so real, so true. but it wasn't your own pain. it was azriel's, through the white-hot golden bond that tethered the two of you together. until this moment, azriel had made sure to keep his emotions sequestered from you - you had done the same. out of pure spite, disdain for the cauldron's decision to fuse the two of you together for eternity.

until this moment. when azriel opened the floodgates of his own mind, letting you in. warning you.

"az," you breathed out, moving to rest a hand on his shoulder in gut-wrenching fear.

he gritted his teeth, letting out a horrible groan of distress.

"leave," he gnashed out, his voice strained. he let out another roar of pain.

you shook your head, eyes wide and pained.

"no, azriel. no. i'm not," you said sternly, voice watery.

"y/n," he forced out, nails digging into the dirt beneath him as he fought the intrusion of the daemati.

"y/n," he repeated, groaning once more, "it has me. it's going to make me hurt you," he strained, "you have to go. contact rhys, and go," he fell onto his side, wings flaring in exertion.

you scrambled towards him, placing a hand on his forehead. your heart was beating so rapidly, you were half-expecting it to leap from your throat and join azriel's form on the dampened ground.

all you could do was shake your head, over and over and over.

"no, no, no," you whispered, eyes filling with tears. you felt a fear so absolute, wholly understanding right then the pure agony that crawled into every crevice when the person on the other end of that golden rope was in danger. you couldn't leave him, you refused. every fiber of your being rebuked the thought. you peered down at his writhing form, his face pinched in pain. he was still the most beautiful male you'd ever seen.

you let out a gutteral noise of distress. you wasted so much time - so much time resenting azriel. fighting with him. throwing jabs at him. hating the gods, the cauldron, for linking the two of you. for what?

all that time wasted, and now his mind was no longer his. you would never get to express your love for the male before you - never get to experience the love that the both of you so immensely deserved.

"azriel," you choked out, pressing your shaking hands to every part of his body you could possibly touch. you glanced up, surveying your surroundings quickly. that's when you saw him, the daemati.

he'd kept his distance, but you made out the shape of his dark form within the trees. you couldn't even see his face, but you could clearly see the way his head tilted to the right, unnaturally slow. he was using his powers to fully infiltrate azriel's mind.

but your mate was putting up a fight. your strong, powerful mate.

azriel was doing everything within his power to not succumb to the daemati's will, his body feeling like it was going to split in half. the pain, the unrelenting, bone crushing pain, was enough to make him wish he could somehow force himself completely unconscious.

and still, through it all, he could not tear his thoughts away from you. a dangerous game, as he was dealing with a species of fae that was literally able to break into the walls of his mind, utilizing his deepest fears against him.

and right now, his biggest fear was losing you. hurting you.

he roared out, blue siphons blazing, vibrating against his skin.

one singular mantra stamped itself through his mind as he attempted to fight off the daemati clawing at his iron-clad wards long enough to convince you to flee, to leave him there to suffer alone - just as he always had:

my mate, fight for your mate, keep her safe, fight for your mate, keep her safe, my mate

you froze, mesmerized by the form that was tearing azriel's mind apart chamber-by-chamber.

then, it happened, and it happened quickly: azriel, now fully under its control, lunged toward you. he tackled you backwards, into the dirt and leaves beneath the both of you.

you screamed, bracing your hands against his chest. you dared to look into his hazel eyes, orbs that were no longer his own.

what you saw terrified you. pupils blown wide.

death himself.

a large, scarred hand found its way to your throat, and you thrashed wildly beneath him. he was unphased by the fight you tried to give him - he was too strong, and you were too scared.

rhys, rhys please, you chanted into your mind, hoping somehow he'd be able to hear you. it was a long shot - you knew that. you'd never once communicated with rhys mind-to-mind, but it was your only chance.

you were going to die at the hands of your mate. and it all felt so ironic, since azriel hated you anyway.

rhys, please, your pleads grew frantic, and azriel's hand gripped tighter around your neck.

the edges of your vision began to go dark, and you grabbed azriel's chin, peering into his eyes with all of the strength that you could muster. "azriel. it's me. it's y/n - it's your mate. please, az. i'm so sorry for everything," you strained against his grip, throat tightening. you wouldn't be conscious for much longer. if there was any chance that he - the real him - could hear you, you had to try to get through.

"i'm so, so sorry, az," you spluttered out, eyes growing heavy.

you sent one more plead to rhys through your mind before everything went dark.

your eyes fluttered open slowly, a groan leaving your throat before you were even fully awake. your neck ached, the skin there burned. your whole body felt tense, tight, and stiff.

you blinked, eyes heavy, trying to take in your surroundings. you recognized the ceiling above you, knew that the soft sheets pulled up to your chin were the ones adorning your bed at the house of wind.

you were home. you were alive.

the events with azriel, the forest - the daemati - came rushing back at full-speed, leaving you breathless. you tried to sit up, but your entire body screamed with the sudden movement.

fuck.

"there she is," you heard a familiar silk-coated voice. rhys. you glanced over towards the sound, and found the high lord perched in an armchair next to your bed.

"rhys," you spoke hoarsely. he stood then, approaching your side with feline grace.

he smiled down at you, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

"quite a fan of the dramatics, aren't you, y/n," he teased soothingly, taking a seat on the side of your mattress gently. "you had all of us frightened half to death," he added, surveying your face as he took note of your current state.

you groaned quietly, raising a hand to feel at your throat. it was obviously bruised - you didn't need to see it to know that.

"azriel," you whispered hoarsely, shaking your head to yourself. you were safe, so surely azriel must be too ... right? the thought of anything otherwise had your stomach lurching. you felt for the bond, felt for azriel's presence, and were met with emptiness - just like you had been until the daemati attacked.

"azriel is just fine, y/n," rhys spoke gently, a knowing tone in his voice. "i heard you, that day in the forest. i arrived just in time. it took a few days, but...," he trailed off, moving a strand of hair from your face, "but i was able to completely heal az from the damage the daemati caused," he finished, letting out an exhale.

you felt tears springing to your eyes immediately, unable to control your reaction to the news. "i'm so sorry, rhys," you choked out, a shaky breath escaping through your nose.

"now, now," he soothed, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. "none of that, none of that at all," he continued, eyes softening as he met your broken gaze.

"you did nothing wrong, y/n. you stayed at the side of your mate, even in the face of lethal danger. you summoned me," he paused for a moment, watching you.

"you didn't allow him to experience that alone. and while you staying there may not have been the ... most wisest ... thing to do," rhys teased, referencing your last conversation amongst the two males, "i still commend you. i, myself, have not made the smartest decisions where feyre's safety is concerned," he wiped another tear threatening to cascade onto your sheets.

you let out a watery laugh at his teasing, shaking your head.

"he hates me, rhys," you whispered, eyes finding the ceiling once more.

rhys let out a dry chuckle at your statement, sighing to himself.

"on the contrary, y/n, i think you'll find that az feels the complete opposite," he whispered, voice lilting.

you met his gaze, eyes narrowing.

just then, there was a gentle knock on your bedroom door. one that was made with the intention to not disturb your sleeping, healing form.

the door opened, and azriel crept in, wings pulled together against his back in order to avoid jostling any of your shelved belongings. he was trying to be as silent as possible, not yet aware that you were awake.

"i brought a glass of water, rhys, just in case she wak-," his words caught in his throat once his eyes made their way to yours. your opened, very awake, eyes.

"i have some very important paperwork to attend to," rhys spoke. "numbers to run, high lord duties - things of that nature," he grinned slyly, removing himself from your beside and strutting towards the door. he turned back towards you before leaving, bowing his head once. "i'm glad that you're okay, y/n. please let me know if you need anything," he said gently, before making his exit.

azriel still stood off to the side, frozen. his eyes were fused to the bruise that spanned your throat - a bruise that was in the shape of his own hand.

"hi," you whispered hoarsely, clearing your throat.

"i'm so....- i am so fucking sorry, y/n," azriel whispered, stunned. his grip tightened around the glass of water in his hand, and you were momentarily concerned that it may splinter under the pressure.

"az," you began to speak, scooting your body up against the row of pillows propped behind you. "we both know that none of this is your fault. you fought it, i saw-," you pleaded, eyebrows cinched.

"no," he cut you off, voice stern, but quiet.

"no," he repeated, stepping towards you. "i should have never allowed rhysand to send you out on a mission this dangerous. there is no excuse. i could have killed...", he trailed off, approaching you almost hesitantly, as if he were scared to get too close. "i could have killed you," he finished, voice strained and full of regret.

you shook your head, reaching for him now, and he approached you. a moth to a flame. he set the glass of water down and allowed you to take his hand. the same one that was wrapped around your neck just days ago.

"this hand, a hand that i find so beautiful, this hand that belongs to you - my mate - would have never done this to me. and i know that," you whispered, tearing up once more.

he dropped his head, wings drooping - the very tips touching the floor.

he squeezed your hand once, sitting on your bedside dejectedly.

"i heard you," he whispered after a short pause. "i heard you begging me to stop. i just couldn't -,"

"i know," you cut him off, not wanting him to spiral into a pit of despair that would engulf him entirely.

his shadows began to lazily twirl around him, a few breaking away from his body in favor of worrying over you instead.

he loosed a deep breath, staring at the floor for awhile. you allowed him to ponder, think through all of the horrible events of the last few days. as awful as your attack was, you couldn't begin to imagine the toll it took on azriel. his mind was infiltrated, ripped apart, and his body was no longer his. you could not even fathom it.

"the daemati made me attack you because he knew we were mates. he sensed the bond. and ...-," he trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief, "he knew how important your safety was to me. he got into my head, and into my thoughts. he saw how important you are," he whispered, finding your eyes.

your eyes shut, a tear escaping from the corners. he reached out a hand, a sure hand.

he wouldn't allow another moment to pass where he wanted to touch you, but held himself back.

you felt him wipe the tears away, his touch so gentle, it made your chest ache.

"i am sorry, you know," you whispered, sniffling. "i'm sorry for all the shit i've given you. i truly never resented the mating bond as much as i let on. it was just-...", you shook your head, eyes fluttering open once more to find his honeyed gaze. "it was a defense mechanism, because i knew you didn't want the bond, didn't want me, and i didn't want to look stupid - pining after a male that was ashamed of me," you rushed out, cheeks tinting pink at the confession.

his brows furrowed, and he huffed out a breath as he shook his head slowly, "y/n," he started, letting out this dry ghost of a laugh - although it lacked any humor. "no, that's not it at all. i was ... elated, to learn that you were my mate. but i thought that you wouldn't want me. after all this time, i'd come to terms with the fact that i would never ... never find my mate. our paths wouldn't cross, or i'd somehow get myself killed before i could find her," he paused for a moment, shaking his head. "but, no. i was ecstatic. especially because it was you. so full of fire and strength. beautiful - agonizingly so. your excitement for life radiates from your very core. i was, and still am, so proud to have been paired with you. i couldn't have chosen anyone better," he admitted, his eyes soft and full of adoration.

you were absolutely crying now, and your grip on his hand tightened as you let out a soft sob.

"we're such idiots," you croaked out, a hand coming up to cover your eyes.

he let out a soft laugh then, his own eyes becoming watery.

"perfect for each other. two idiot mates," he offered, a real, true smile spreading across his dimpled cheeks.

you laughed along with him, bringing his scarred knuckles up to your lips to nuzzle along them softly. the action made azriel still for a moment, and you felt an overwhelming wave of full, adoring emotions and bright, fizzling warmth hurdle directly into your chest. his emotions. he'd opened his side of the bond once more, but this time, for a very different reason. your wide eyes found his, and you returned the sentiment. you sent every ounce of love, unbridled and true, right into his chest. his breathing became ragged, his bottom lip quivering at the feeling. he was so loved, and gods, so were you.

you tugged on that golden string that was directly connected to the pit of his chest, tied right around his heart. he leaned towards you on instinct, and he knew at that moment that he would follow wherever you led him.

"my mate," he whispered, reaching down to press a soft kiss to the tip of your nose.

you tilted your head up slightly, your full lips finding his own.

"finally," you whispered against his mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to his waiting lips.

a/n: well, this one took 3 hours and cracked me in half along the way. if you made it this far, pls lmk what you thought! thanks for reading <3

[niwaart]

DOCTOR!MALE!READER X BATFAM

[Part1 - Part2 - Part3 - Part4 - Part5 - part6...]

#############################

Y/N groaned as he stumbled into the hospital staff hallway, rubbing his tired eyes. Last night's Wayne family dinner had been a disaster—stealing a cake, a food fight, and Damian trying to stab Tim with a fork. He just wanted to get to his office, drink his orange juice in peace, and forget about it all.

But the universe had other plans.

As soon as he stepped into the hallway, Sammy, his usually calm assistant, grabbed his arm and dragged him into the pantry.

"Where the hell have you been?!" Sammy whispered in panic. "Do you have any idea what's going on right now?!"

Y/N blinked. "Um... no? Did anyone die?"

Sammy shoved a newspaper into his hands.

The front-page headline:

《《Bruce Wayne's Secret Doctor? Mysterious man spotted leaving Wayne Manor late at night! 》》

Below, there was a blurry but clear image of Y/N sneaking out of Wayne Manor, his bag suspiciously stuffed with what appeared to be stolen goods (which were actually Alfred's cookies).

Y/N's stomach lurched. "Oh. Oh no."

Sammy groaned. "Oh no?! That's all you have to say?! The entire Gotham press is out, convinced you're Bruce Wayne's personal psychiatrist! The hospital board is panicking, the nurses are cackling, and—"

A loud thump echoed from the front hall.

Both men froze.

"Dr. Y/N! Are you treating Bruce Wayne for a mental illness?!" a reporter shouted from outside.

"Is he unstable? Is that why he adopted so many children?!" another reporter said.

Y/N slowly turned to Sammy. "...I think I need to fake my death."

Sammy grabbed his shoulders. "No. What you need is a statement—something to make them go away!"

Y/N rubbed his temples. "Like what? 'Sorry, I'm not a therapist, I'm just his bastard son and I went to him for cake?'"

Sammy gave him a blank stare. "...Maybe you're ignoring the bastard son and cake part."

Y/N hoped the reporters would get bored and leave.

They didn't.

Instead, they multiplied.

By noon, the hospital lobby was packed—reporters shoving microphones at anyone wearing a lab coat, cameras flashing, and sweating security guards holding back the crowd.

Y/N, hiding behind a potted plant, watched in horror as an overly aggressive reporter cornered a terrified intern.

Reporter: "Is it true that Dr. Y/N is using the experimental treatment on Bruce?!"

"I—I don't know, I'm just getting coffee—" the intern said, panicking.

Y/N grumbled. "This is a nightmare."

Sammy, his auras appearing dark circles under his eyes, he muttered, "You think? The council is threatening to suspend you until this 'gets sorted out.'"

Y/N's eye twitched. "Suspending me?! Why? For my presence?!"

Sammy sighed. "For causing a media frenzy that harmed the hospital's operations."

Y/N opened his mouth to argue—

**Bzzzzt.**

His phone vibrated. A text message notification lit up the screen.

Unknown number:

"Turn on channel 5 now."

Y/N frowned, grabbed the remote in the break room, and flipped to the local news.

Newscaster (on screen):

"Breaking news—Wayne Enterprises has just released an official statement regarding the rumors surrounding Bruce Wayne and Dr. Y/N Wayne of Gotham General Hospital."

The video cut to a pre-recorded video of Lucius Fox, standing in front of the Wayne Enterprises logo.

Lucius Fox said calmly, "Contrary to recent speculation, Dr. Wayne is not, and has never been, Bruce Wayne's personal psychiatrist. He was invited to Wayne Manor as part of a special charity initiative for the pediatric wing of Gotham General Hospital. Any other claims are baseless and irresponsible.”

Y/N was surprised.

Sammy whistled. “Oh my God. Bruce Wayne saved you.”

Y/N stared at the screen, torn between relief and skepticism. “...Why?”

Sammy shrugged. “Maybe because you’re his son?”

Y/N snorted. “I doubt it. He doesn’t seem to want the press to explore his secrets.”

By evening, the reporters had finally dispersed, though some lingered outside, hoping for a scoop.

Y/N sat in his office, exhausted, staring at the last remaining cupcake he’d smuggled out of Wayne Manor.

“Okay,” Sammy said, looking at Y/N. “Now what?”

Y/N took a slow bite of the cupcake. “And now? Pretend it never happened."

Sammy raised an eyebrow. "And the next time Bruce Wayne invites you to dinner?"

Y/N chewed the muffin thoughtfully. "...I'll get a bigger bag for the muffin."

Sammy grumbled. "You're hopeless."

Y/N smirked. "But you love me."

"That's debatable," Sammy said wearily as he walked out of the office.

At Wayne Manor, Bruce sat at his desk, watching the news coverage fade on his tablet.

"That was...uncharacteristically kind of you, Master Bruce," Alfred said coldly.

Bruce sighed. "The last thing I need is for the press to associate him with me in the wrong way."

Dick leaned into the cave entrance. "Or...maybe you didn't want your son to be bullied?"

Bruce glared at him. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Dick grinned. "Of course, B. Anything to help you sleep at night."

Bruce ignored him and went back to his tablet. But as he watched the last reporter leave Gotham General Hospital, a small, almost imperceptible smile spread across his lips.

############################

Side story:

Dick: [sends article link] GUYS LOOK Y/N BEING KIDNAPPED BY RED HOOD 

Tim: That’s not kidnapping. That’s a rescue. 

Damian: Tt. He’s weak. 

Steph: Aww, Jason’s being a protective big bro! 

Jason: SHUT UP. 

Bruce:…Is he safe? 

Jason: Yeah, yeah. He’s complaining about missing his cupcakes. 

Y/N (added to chat): I HEARD THAT. 

Dick: WELCOME TO THE FAMILY GROUP CHAT, BIG BRO! 

Y/N: …I hate all of you. 

[Y/N has left the chat.]

Jason: He’ll be back. 

Tim: Yeah. For Alfred’s cake. 

[Bruce Wayne has sent a photo of a triple-layer chocolate cake.]

[Y/N has rejoined the chat.]

Y/N: …Fine. But I’m bringing my own fork

############################

@roxy776699 @missmannequin @theultimatezazasniffer @chericia @mybones537 @thegothamsiren

@eyeless-kun @thegothamsiren @a-brilliante-mariposa @s4raahi @s0ggyrate @glasscurrents @iiriam5 @f33rumm

[velvetwyrme]

which deception would have an sti AND fuck cars?

in reference to: https://www.tumblr.com/penny-anna/767952128217104384/imagine-youre-a-mechanic-in-the-transformers?source=share

okay. so. first off. anon, thank you for sending me this because the idea that you read that post and just went- "hey, you know who i should pose this question to?" and sent it to me- is hysterical and i lvoe u.

anyway theres also a Texty answer under the cut if you want to read that, because i genuinely DO have thoughts about this, but i wanted to draw that comic because this ask made me laugh very hard when i saw it in my inbox.

also, the thrilling conclusion of the comic answer:

he fucked that car!!!!!!!

hi! Texty time. I think a lot of them would have/be one but not the other (either has a STI or is a Carfucker) but i included some of those here anyway because i think my thought process was funny for some of them. this is all purely my own opinions etc. etc. no basis for anything only vibes. i went through a lot of options and came to a lot of conclusions.

to reiterate the Chart for claritys sake:

Soundwave: No STI and no Carfucking. This is true across all versions of Soundwave imo. Rumble and Frenzy are a solid no on the STI front and a solid yes on the Carfucking.

Starscream: no STI, no Carfucking (despite what Soundwave thinks). TFP!Starscream specifically might have an STI though. Sorry man. Skywarp definitely has/had a STI but gets it treated on account of his trinemates. No Carfucking. Thundercracker would fuck a car but doesn't have an STI.

Shockwave: ??? - I'm not sure I want to know. "Once, as part of an experiment" was the original thing I wrote for his answer lol. True across continuities as well.

Anyway. moving on...

My actual answer for Megatron: REALLY depends on continuity. Here's a sample:

G1? Yeah, probably both. I can see it.

IDW/MTMTE? Nah. Maybe? ... Nah. I feel like if he had an STI it'd have been back when he was a miner. Would not fuck a car.

Earthspark? I feel like no STI but yes to the Carfucking. Except he feels really guilty about it after. I still haven't watched ES but this is the impression I get from him.

TFA? oh god. i don't know... i don't know....... he probably fucks cars. No STI.

TFP? Yeah absolutely are u kidding me? Yes to both.

Constructicons: I feel like they'd be a yes to both, but not at the same time, so they wouldn't have been the one/s to transmit a STI to a car. Also Hook would be ON TOP of treatment. Once they ALL got infected after combining into Devastator, and that was miserable for everyone. Nobody has fessed up to being the one who had it in the first place, but now they have treatment on hand just in case.

Also while on the topic of combiners... I think some of the Stunticons are also pretty good candidates for STI/Carfucking. Motormaster, Drag Strip and Wildrider in particular shfkgbekfbk

I considered Tarn/The DJD and Overlord just because of how freaky them guys can get, but I think Tarn runs too tight a ship for that to happen, and Overlord is preoccupied with. worse things. The Scavengers on the other hand... sorry to Misfire, I can see him giving a car a STI. Relatedly, Grimlock would fuck a car but not have an STI.

Who else................................ wait.

Astrotrain. I can see it. Okay bye im going to sleep this took me too long to reply to fhfjfbrmfbdj

[ebodebo]

Rearview

a meet ugly with simon!

You’re late.

Like really, really late.

You were supposed to be heading into your lecture right about now, but instead, you're dashing to your car, struggling to balance the heap of items in your arms.

The lady in front of you at the grocery store insisted on having all her items perfectly bagged, and now you're running late.

Go figure.

You hurriedly toss your groceries into the passenger seat, forgetting all about connecting your Bluetooth.

With a swift motion, you buckle your seatbelt and shift into gear, only to roll backward instead of moving forward.

A yelp escapes you as you feel the sharp impact of colliding with a parked truck behind you.

"Shit!" You curse, slamming the gear into park before struggling to open your door, muttering another string of expletives as your seatbelt nearly chokes you.

As you step out, you're met by the sight of a man emerging from the truck you just bumped into.

He stands tall and imposing, a mask covering half his face, making it difficult to gauge his emotions.

His bright blue eyes are striking yet carry an unsettling darkness that raises the hair on the back of your neck.

“Oh my God!” You exclaim in a fluster, rushing to inspect the damage on his car. You run your fingers through your hair anxiously, trying to regain some composure.

“I’m so fucking sorry! I—I was in such a rush,” you blurt out. “The woman at the grocery store took forever; it’s ridiculous! Who needs groceries bagged just right? And my clothes, ugh! I forgot to start the dryer, so they’re still sopping wet! Just my fucking luck!” You throw your hands up in a mix of frustration and false enthusiasm, your words tumbling out in a frenzied stream.

“I’m definitely going to miss my lecture because of this, and my professor is already on my case, so this is just the cherry on fucking top of my terrible day. And—” You suddenly stop, realizing that you’re venting to a stranger whose truck you’ve just hit.

"Sorry," you say quietly. "I'm just having a really shitty day, full of shittiness."

"Shittiness?" He replies, a hint of humor creeping into his raspy English voice, catching you off guard since he had been silent until now.

You glance up at him, your lip twitching slightly.

"Yeah," you respond softly.

He pauses for a moment, taking in your sheepish demeanor.

"You hungry?" He asks, seemingly out of nowhere.

You raise an eyebrow, caught off guard by the question. "Hungry?"

He nods.

"Well—I mean…" you trail off, noting the damage before looking back up at him.

His expression is serious.

He’s serious.

Is he actually asking you out after you just fucked up his car?

"Are you serious?" You ask, hesitation clear in your voice.

"Do I look like the type to joke?" He replies, his tone dry.

A smile breaks across your face.

"No. Not really," you admit, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement.

You take a moment to soak him in.

He’s pretty…attractive now that you’re really looking.

Quite built and definitely older than you.

You wonder what he does for a living.

Or if he lives around here.

"Diner's right across the street," he says, nodding toward the quaint little eatery nearby.

It’s clear he’s trying to ease your worries.

You don’t have to get into his car with him; you could just walk over where there are onlookers.

Fuck it.

You’re already late for your lecture.

Might as well make it worthwhile.

"Okay," you say, your enthusiasm a bit more pronounced than you intended.

Your cheeks warm, but he remains silent, though you catch the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement.

"Let me grab my wallet," you say, reaching for your door handle, but he gently places a hand on it to stop you.

"Don't need it," he dismisses.

Your lips pucker in confusion. "But, I—"

"Come on," he replies, tilting his head towards the diner.

"Alright..." you say, slowly realizing you don’t even know his name.

"Simon," he provides.

You smile.

"Cute name," you compliment as you turn on your heels to head towards the diner.

Oh, now he's definitely smiling under that mask.

He takes you to the cozy diner and covers the cost of your meal, much to your dismay because, 'I really should be paying; I messed up your car.'

He brushes aside your attempts to pay him back, insisting that you should never front the bill.

"If you ever want to talk about your shitty day, just give me a call. Yeah?" He says, scribbling his number on a napkin from the diner.

"Yeah, I will," you promise as you reach for the napkin.

After your meal, Simon walks you back to your car, even opening the door for you as you part ways with a quiet 'goodbye.'

"See you later, Simon. I’ll text you later!" You exclaim, beaming with excitement. "I’ll send my insurance info tonight," you add.

He simply nods, fully aware he’ll delete that message later because he couldn’t care less about his car.

He’ll pay to fix it, along with your car.

Even if you fight him on it, he'll still do it.

He’s just so thrilled that a pretty girl like you fell into the palm of his hand

What a lucky bastard.

a/n: bring back meet uglies!

divider by @saradika-graphics

[ink-stainedkiss]

Hugs & Kisses

MDNI!

Synopsis: All of the Jjk men love Valentine’s day, but they all like it for a different reason.

Including: Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, Ryomen Sukuna,Toji Fushiguro,

A/N: sooo ik it’s been 4 days since valentine’s but let’s just close our eyes and pretend im not late. I got sick while on my trip and these past 2 days i’ve been stuck in bed. Sorry for the delay, forgive me 🙏🥲 also am i insane for writing this much on my first ever smut post??? Idk i guess i got way to invested, but i hope you guys like it💕

Word Count: 3.2 k

Contents: Smut!, p in v, oral [m! & f! receiving], doggy, mating press, breeding k!, fingering, cowgirl, Sukunas stomach mouth ;)), light sub & dom, light dom & sub, crying, overstim, teasing, dirty talk, orgasm denying,

Satoru Gojo loves Valentine’s day because he’s able to show you off proudly, drowning you in presents, kisses, and candy. Pda is his specialty, but it really shows when the day winds down and he has you all alone.

He’ll be so sweet, dragging you into every store, buying everything you touch, and not even blinking as he swipes his card. However, the loverboy facade drops the moment you enter your shared apartment. He will slam his lips onto yours, leading you blindly into the bedroom as he continues to explore your mouth. Clothes are discarded on the floor and Satoru is frenzied to get you on top of him.

Mumbling sweet words for only you to hear, he lifts your shirt over your head, noting the lacy blue bra you decided to wear. That only makes him more ravenous and it’s off in an instant. His tongue swirled around your mouth, both of his hands cupping your breast, grunting as your clothed cunt rubbed against his bulge. You had him trapped between your legs, but Satoru wouldn’t want it any other way.

He pulled away from the feverish kiss, staring up at you with a look full of deep affection,”How did I get so lucky to have you?” He whispered, now holding onto your face,”Are you getting sappy while I'm on top of you right now?” You joked, raising a brow. He chuckled, planting small kisses on your cheeks,”Is a man not allowed to express his love?”

Something darker flashes over your eyes and you lean in,”How about you express your love by letting me ride you?” Satoru flashed his pearly teeth and his boxers were off in the blink of an eye. He watched you as you hovered over his cock, smirking to himself, but it quickly dissolves into a thin line as he hisses out.

You must be soaking since you practically slid onto him,”Holy s-shit, you’re, hah-sooo tight.” You guys have fucked multiple times, so it’s not like this was a shocker to Satoru, still he basically felt like a virgin when you swallowed him up. Your walls were squeezing him so good, he could probably bust right here. Though that would ruin his cool-guy persona. Again, that thought died once you started to rock against his hips.

A shaky pant pushed past Satoru’s lips and he threw his head back onto the pillows,”Fuck,ngh-you’re killin’ me.” His words didn’t reach you and you continued to bounce on his cock. With a loud moan, you strained your neck back and put your hands on Satoru’s large thighs. A ring of precum began to surround the base of Satoru’s cock as you lifted up and down, creating lewd noises. You picked up your speed, making the man below you grow louder.

“S-slow, mfg-fuckkk, slow down,” He slurred desperately, though he didn’t mean it. He would probably start crying if you actually did. Satoru became more needy and started to buck up, meeting you halfway to slam his hard cock into your cunt.

Satoru’s cock twitched inside of you and you could hear his stifled whines,”Baby,hngh b-baby m’cumminggg!” He sprayed ropes of his cum into you, pairing your insides, but you weren’t done yet, so even as he squeaked and squirmed under you, you didn’t stop. Satoru’s hands had fallen off your waist, now laying next to his head. You were fully in control, riding him like the night wouldn’t end.

Tears slipped past Satoru’s eyelids, facing you with a pathetic look,”S’too much, mhg-fuckk,” He trembled,”Baby, ngh-ohhh shit. I c-can’t, I can't,” You gave him an evil smile, not pausing your movements whatsoever,”You’re the strongest right?”

Satoru gasped as you slammed down on his cock, but nodded quickly despite his weakened state. You leaned in close, your breath fanning his ear,” Then you are gonna fuckin’ take me like the strongest.”

⏦ﾟ♡︎

Suguru Geto loves Valentine’s day because after a full day of gifts and shopping, he sees you in a breathtaking set of lingerie.

He loved them all, each color complimenting you. Dark purple was his favorite, for an obvious reason. Suguru couldn’t wait a second before tacking you to the bed and tearing the thin fabric off. You’ll complain about the ruined outfit, but it’ll be your last thought as Suguru quietly apologizes into your skin, his soft lips gliding down your thighs.

“I’ll get you a new one,My love.” One he most definitely will deface the same way this one was. Geto chuckles at how squeamish and fidgety you are. You were never one for teasing and he knows it, but the desperate need on your face is all the pleasure Geto needs.

It’s a bit crazy how sweet Geto acts, kissing you, saying small praises, only to deny your orgasm. You were so so close, practically riding his face, but just as you were about to come loose, he lifted his tongue from your cunt. A gasp leaves your mouth and Geto just laughs,”I wanna have a bit of fun with you, so just try and hold it a bit longer.”

He says so calmly, as if he’s not rubbing your clit with excruciatingly tiny circles. That’s the least of your worries as he aligns himself with your achy hole,”Just relax.” His reminder doesn’t help and he slides himself into your pussy agonizingly slow. His cock immediately fills you up, forcing a pained moan from you. Geto placed his large hand against your stomach as he grinds into you, making the feeling ten times more pleasant. It was torture.

Geto bends down, placing soft and teasing kisses to your neck. Your panting as he picks up his pace. You try to focus on your other senses: the slapping of skin, Geto’s faint moans next to your ear, his hands gripping on your waist, the smell of sex in the room. Sight was out of the question since you were forcing your eyes closed. Pornographic moans racked from your chest as Geto reached his hand toward your pussy and rubbed your clit.

Your back arched off the bed. Your scream being stifled by your lip in between teeth,”Fuck! Mm’ close-mghh” Groaning loudly, Geto watched your desperate state. Your body jolted and jerked against his hold and it was obvious you were close. He had admired you too long and you stared up at him with water-filled eyes,”Geto-nngh-pleaseee let me c-cum.” The words came out like a cry, your voice scratchy and weak from moaning so viciously.

Geto carried your cheek gently, a hint of mischief in his eye as he debated on seeing just how long you could deny yourself release, but thankfully, he wasn’t a monster,”Go ahead, my love.”

The fire that pooled in your abdomen finally exploded. Chills ran up your skin and you let out a shattering cry. You screamed out Geto’s name as white light flashed over your closed eyes. By the time you opened your eyes, you were breathless. Chest heaving, you saw Geto staring down at the mess you made. The pool of pleasure below you was evident and you could only wince as Geto slid his cock in and out of your flooded cunt. The sounds were obscene, but it only fueled Geto.

You met his gaze with a tired look, body still shaking from the intense orgasm. Though Geto was far from done, it was clear from the spark of sinfulness in his eyes,”How many times do you think I could make you do that again?”

⏦ﾟ♡︎

Kento Nanami loves Valentine’s day because he plans the most extravagant date and spoils you rotten. He also fucks you like it’s your last night on earth together.

Since he spoils you the entire day, you return the favor by jerking him off properly. Taking his hefty cock in your hands, you watch as his eyes practically roll to the back of his head,”Fuck-just like that.” His hips buck into your warm palms, craving the friction, but if you are feeling brave, you pull away, leaving him with nothing.

Vulnerable whines sneak their way through his lips, but Kento will cover them with small coughs or grunts, opting to plead ask kindly for you to continue,”Honey, god- would you please keep touching me?” The slight worry in his eyes is enough to make you break, going right back to his cock. His grip on the sheets is iron tight, but he reaches for your head when you begin to take him into your mouth.

Kento uses your mouth to get off, though he adores you, he can’t help to submit to the utter pleasure you're giving him. So much to the point he craves to hear more strained moans and gags as he fucks into your mouth. When he cums, he’s not surprised to see you have swallowed every drop of his sperm. Your hair is a mess, salvia glosses over your lips, your cheeks are flushed, but you have never looked prettier.

Valentine’s day is always the day he thinks he’s ready for a kid. He would have you in a mean mating press, your freshly bought set of nails marking his skin. Between his battered breaths and choked out moans, he’ll babble on about how pretty you’d look with a baby bump. You're too lost in his furious pounding to question it, tears streaming down your face, and you don’t hesitate to agree.

“Gunna fuck a baby into you Sweetheart,” He grunts with each snap of his hips. It makes you gasp, but he silences your shock with another thrust. He abuses your g-spot over and over, the knot in your stomach tightening to its limit.

When you finally cum all over Kento’s cock, he doesn’t want to stop. He continues to bully your overstimulated pussy, rough thumb circling your clit and becoming more wild by your orgasm. By the time your high has calmed down, Kento is using his large fingers to gather any of cum that spilled from your fluttering cunt and sliding it back into you. A soft whine escapes your mouth, but Kento shushes you gently,”I hope our baby has your eyes, Honey.”

⏦ﾟ♡︎

Ryomen Sukuna loves Valentine’s day because loves the way your eyes sparkle at the new jewelry set he got you.

The set is priceless. (since he most likely slaughtered a leader back then and stole it from them, but the gesture is still sweet) He isn’t quite sure what the purpose of this holiday is, but he knows that by the end of the night you’ll be under him, so he doesn’t mind.

It was a bit romantic how he forced you to strip but said to keep the beautiful diamonds around your neck. They were covered in jewels, a blood red ruby being the center charm. You couldn’t help but think that was the reason Sukuna gifted it to you. Though, that’s not on your mind as you ride his stomach’s tongue.

Your hands are scrambling to find balance atop his chest,while his hands are firmly placed on your hips. His large tongue delves into your soaked pussy, finding new spots to tease with the hot organ. Sukuna continues to giggle below you, watching closely as your face screws in the utmost pleasure. He barely has to do anything, letting his adorable girlfriend try and take him whole.

You have already came on his tongue twice, but the feeling is far too good to stop. Your moans are like a symphony to Sukunas ears and as you grind yourself onto his stomach, he watches the light glisten over the large ruby hanging from your neck. He can see the saliva gathering in your mouth, but before it can fall out, he lifts your head with one hand, forcing you to look at him. You swallow harshly, still bouncing on his abs, which were wet with your juices and sweat.

“You said you could take it.” Sukuna restates, smirking at your fucked-out look,”Were you lying to me?” The words come out like a purr and Sukuna had to grip your jaw tighter to make you speak,”I-i can. fuckkk,” short hiccups interrupted your babbling as Sukuna’s tongue reached your cervix. A deep laugh rumbled in his chest as you slammed your eyes shut.

His large tongue curled inside of you, forcing a scream from you. Your vision darkened and your mind grew fuzzy. All you could feel was the tightness in your stomach growing so big until it washed over you like electricity. Your orgasm came like a flash, making you quake even as it slipped away. Sukuna swallowed your juices in an instant. Well his stomach did. The anatomy wasn’t important since he reached out a hand, swiping between your folds and admiring the stickers strands on his fingers. He placed his index and middle in his mouth, sucking your cum off his fingers with a satisfied hum,”Just as sweet as ever.”

You were weak and delirious, falling on top of Sukuna’s sticky chest. He mended your flesh, focusing mainly on your ass, but the short massage felt nice. Sadly, the sweet moment faded as his tongue exited your dripping cunt, and you felt him lift you up, rubbing his hard tip against your fluttering lips. Your eyebrows creased in a small plea, but Sukuna only clicked his tongue,”Did I say we were done?”

⏦ﾟ♡︎

Toji Fushiguro loves Valentine’s day because he gets to splurge his checks on his favorite girl, though it’s not as expensive, it still makes your heart flutter. Though he doesn’t mind when the decorations of balloons and rose petals are ultimately destroyed after he pounces on you.

It’s the same every year. Toji wants to be romantic, dropping his usual erotic style of sex just for the holiday, but the switch is almost animalistic the way he turns into a beast after just a few thrusts. You will be laying on the bed, letting out soft and delicate moans as Toji ruts into you, but in the blink of an eye, he will have you face down ass up. Your back is so arched it almost hurts, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t going to end up begging him to fuck you like this.

Toji pounded his cock into you with brutal force, ripping a choked moan from your throat. A beefy arm was wrapped around your hips and you could feel the fact that Toji was bulging in your stomach. He laid against your back, his hot breath fanning on your ear as he spoke,”Happy Valentine’s day, Doll.” He was already so lost in your cunt and Toji was pretty shocked to get out a full sentence.

Your gummy walls swallowed him whole, practically milking him where he kneeled. He groaned as he pulled out half way, a chorus of wet fluids and cum sounding out together,”God, do you hear her? She’s just begging me to fill her up.” A pathetic whine slipped from your lips and you put your face into the pillows as an escape.

A ‘tsk’ noise sounded from Toji and you felt his large hand card through your hair and yank you back up. He pulled you up hard enough to the point you were both kneeling, his arm now keeping you upright,”Aw, don’t get shy now,” He thrusted up into you, making you cry out,”Doll, we’re just gettin’ started.”

His cock rested inside of you, twitching and completely stuffing you. You opened your mouth, but only small moans and whines fell out. Toji hummed teasingly, gripping your hair and making your head fall onto your shoulder,”Gotta use your words. I don’t know what you want, if you don’t speak Baby,” You were so embarrassed, but so turned on.

“Ngh,plea-shit.” You were tearing up, so distressed to make your boyfriend fuck you,”Please, f-fuck me Toji.” He didn’t need to be told twice.

⏦ﾟ♡︎

Choso Kamo loves Valentine’s day because he gets to spend the whole time cuddling and showering you in affection. The chocolate covered strawberries and candy taste good, but what tastes better is your soaking cunt on his tongue.

Your hand is gripping onto Choso’s dark hair like a life-line, vision going in and out as he devours you. It’s somewhat your fault for making him so needy for you. You both had been out in public, having no time for privacy, and now that you two were home, Choso wasn’t going to let you go. His hands are wrapped around your thighs, dragging you closer and closer to his hot mouth. Choso eats you out all the time, but there was a certain lust that flooded his veins when he was denied of you for too long.

Your first orgasm was like white lighting, cracking down through your core and silencing the world around you. You only gained some grip of reality when Choso slurped your juices quickly, his tongue flicking over your puffy clit occasionally and making you jolt. However, you knew you were in for a ride when his hold on you grew tighter and he rose from his place between your legs,” One more? C’mon, Sweetheart, it is a Holiday.”

His mouth and chin was covered in your slick. There was a small cloud of desire that blocked his vision and before you could give a shaky answer, he was already sucking on your clit. Yelping, you wrapped your thighs around Choso’s head, making him groan. The sound reverberated through your cunt and forced another moan from you.

By the time your second orgasm came, you were already gone. You were shaking, mumbling nonsense, and overstimulated. Each swipe of Choso’s tongue makes you gasp. Choso drank up your fluid like a man lost in the desert, not wasting a single drop. Tears welled in your eyes as he dragged his tongue flat along your lips, making you whine,”c-cho, please-mfg,so good,” Tears slip down your face, your words barely making it too Choso’s ears. (which may or may not because your thighs were covering them)

He looked up again, but slid two of his fingers past your puffy folds,”What was your favorite part about today?” He questioned innocently, as if he wasn’t fingering you. You let out a gasp as his lanky finger grazed over your g-spot, but left just as quick,”mghhh, I-i liked the,” gasping as he kitten licked your clit,”The flowers!” You squeaked

“I liked the f-flowers, ohh fuck, and-hnghh, the dinner!” You yelped the last part as Choso dragged a long stripe on your cunt. He hummed against your heat, making you jolt,”I liked spending time with you today, it was nice seeing you smile so much.” Your teeth grated against each other as you nodded, craving more of Choso. You tried shifting yourself closer to Choso’s tongue as he gave your cunt occasional licks, but either he didn’t get the hint or was ignoring them, he didn’t give you what you wanted.

“I also liked the restaurant we visited, it was super-“

“Choso!” You interrupted him. He perked up, curiosity in his eyes. You squeezed your eyes shut, completely caving to Choso’s will,” Please. Just fuck me.” That time Choso finally understood, clearer than ever.

[sumiieon]

✦ Season of Love

ノ When the flowers started blooming back as the scent of spring slithers back into our body, whereas the season of love has just begun.

♡ What I think the current Chrysos Heirs' love languages are ⸝⸝ gn reader ⸝⸝ wc: 957

✦ Note ; beware of spelling mistakes and grammar error due to english not being my first language T_T ⸝⸝ while this writing was meant to be romantic, you can take it however you like! (platonic or romantic.) ⸝⸝ I won't write for Tribbios in this one! ⸝⸝ I apologize if they're ooc because this is my first time writing them

♡ Phainon, The Hero ノ Words of Affirmation ⸝⸝ Acts of Service (Physical Touch might work for him too,,)

For whatever reason it is, I see Phainon as the kind of guy to shower you with compliments that you totally deserve while carrying all the stuff you were struggling to carry with ease. Would always get down on one knee and kiss your knuckles like they're a treasure for him (Like you yourself isn't a treasure he holds dear already), if not that then bridal carries you.

Phainon is protective of you; you could trip and get a scar that is barely a scratch on your being and he would get into a teary-eyed dramatic frenzy panic. You can many times assure him that you are very much okay and he will still worry dead for you.

"Are you okay?! Do you need me to carry you up?! Should we go see a doctor?!?-" "Phainon, it's just a scratch."

Overall a massive head over heels sweetheart that is afraid of losing his loved one and would give his life away to protect you <3

♡ Aglaea, The Weaver ノ Gifts Giving ⸝⸝ Quality Time Okay I know this might not sound like it makes sense, but imagine juuust imagine Aglaea making clothes and/or accessories that reminds her of you and then gifting them to you. She will come across a fabric and then once it reminds her of you, even for the tiniest things ever, she will start sewing and sewing and then boom, an entire set for you just the next day standing at the corner of your room.

Aside from bathing together, Aglaea loves hearing your voice. As a demigod with a duty to protect Okhema, she will obviously be busy and that's no doubt, but she will somehow always leave a room in her busy schedule for you. For you, she will even endure the stupidest of the stupidest questions ever.

"Aglaea, what if the golden blood in the Chrysos Heir's bath is actually piss?" "Yes, My Dear."

You might be an idiot, but you're her idiot <3

♡ Mydeimos, The Undying ノ Acts of Service ⸝⸝ Gifts Giving It's no doubt that the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos prefers to let his actions speak for him because words have failed him multiple times already. While he may not verbally express his love for you much, Mydei would slay a god for you and hand you their heart as a gift. I'm just kidding, he's not just a hot headed brute. But, still, he will give you gifts that reminds him of you, or just things you like generally. Oh you were walking together and he heard you gushing over something of your interest? You will find that same said thing the next day you wake up placed on your nightstand.

Mydei will remember things about you, even ones that are tiny and useless. He will remember the precise number of the plushies in your room and your breakfast routine if you tell him. Would tag you along to have a bite at the restaurant that serves his favourite pancake, and would let you know that he actually likes the pink in his pomegranate juice. While Mydei becomes more gentle with you around, he also gets extra protective of you, by nature. Nobody really mess with you unless they have a death wish because of this.

"What? No no! Mydei is actually super nice! You just need to get to know him to see that side." *radiates passively agressive aura*

By the end, Mydei softens around you like a lion turning into a house-cat. His sarcastic remarks stays though! <3 /hj

♡ Castorice, Servant of Death ノ Quality Time ⸝⸝ Words of Affirmation Due to her curse, Castorice has been deprived of physical contacts for so long throughout her life. She is well aware of this, and because of it too, makes sure you physically keep your distance away from her at least a little. Not because she has any grudges against you obviously! The Servant, in fact, loves you very very much and deeply wishes she could hold you and vice versa. When it comes to this, Castorice makes a plushie resembling you for her to hold at hard times.

While she's incapable of touching you in fear of sending you to the not-so-sweet embrace of death, Castorice loves spending time with you. You two could sit under the white gazebo nestled at the garden of Marmoreal Palace, and she would tell you all sorts of story revolving around the history of the Titans and more. If not that, then she will make accessories together with you. Aside from that, Castorice showers you with sweet words that she wishes you know of too.

"[Name], I sincerely hope you are aware of just how blessed I am to be in your presence.." "I love you too, Castorice."

Castorice might be cursed with the touch of death, but just by your existence had the burden on her shoulders be lifted off slightly and The Servant is very grateful of it <3

© fleuriion ― please refrain from ; plagiarizing, ai usage, repost without credits ― positive interactions are always welcome!