#it was a daunting part because I didn't know how to write it out but I did it!! Finally!!

[oreegaanoo]

Character reference sheets and two frames from the animatic! :3

[infamous-if]

Happy 1 year anniversary to this blog!

It was yesterday...though I do find it fitting that I've been focused on writing so much that I forgot lmao

When I first had the idea for Infamous, I didn't work on it right away. The concept was cool, yeah, but was it enough for interactive fiction? A medium I never even tried before?

I let it marinate in my head for a while wondering if it would be a good story or not. I listened to a lot of music, made a lot of idea boards and outlined routes but told myself I wasn't actually writing it. Just playing in a new literary sandbox with no strings! I was very close to not publishing my idea because it felt like it wasn't a story that I could handle. And it was daunting. I've published stories before, but they were completed novels that I could just forget about it and move on from once I was done. This was a commitment! I kept asking myself if I was even a good enough writer for the plans I had haha

But it didn't stop bothering me and I was getting irritable over my own brain creating this whole world without my permission. So I posted the intro post on a whim just to see what would happen! Turns out, I'm really happy I did!

One year later and there's been a whole community of people who have enriched the story and elevated it to a place that I wouldn't have been able to do it on my own. The amazing fanfics, the head canons, fan art and the suggestions, it's been really nice to work on this with the support and encouragement I've gotten. I think the best parts of the story so far have come from the collective, not me, and knowing that there are people who watched me serve my ideas on a platter like "here. take it pls." and accepted it is really nice. I'm grateful :)

thank you guys for reading the story and being kind to me and my ideas and having so many discussions over these characters that were once just in my mind, alone with me to tend to them. and to the if authors who have been here much longer, thank you for welcoming me with open arms. thank you to the group of if authors in particular who took me under their wing and gave me advice on how to handle things and how to move forward. you didn't have to come into my dm's and give me guidance or help me, but you did anyway and im eternally grateful!

I'm excited for 2024 to be the year that we really dive into the story. I still can't believe we're only 2 chapters in. it feels much longer, doesn't it? lololol

thanks!! <3

[didyougaming]

Hi, gamers. I know the results of the Sandwich Poll have been gnawing at you. So many people wondering whether they answered correctly, which as a reminder is a very important factor in determining which afterlife you end up in when you die. Please understand that I needed a lot of time to internally process these poll results and also that I've been kinda busy/tired. But the people need to know, so here we go.

In total, we received 372 responses. I also spent a lot of my weekend annoying anyone who would listen to me in person about these questions, but I didn't write those answers down.

Question 1 was fairly non-controversial, as it should be. It is worth noting that 3.2% of respondents chose to write-in an answer, and most of these write-in answers were what scientists would call "bad" and "not really useful." So you can assume a 3.2% margin of error on everything in this survey. That's how statistics works.

Question 2 is where we see a real divide. Most respondents consider a sandwich cut into two separate but equal pieces to be one sandwich. This is a real shame, because it's the wrong answer. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Question 3 considers whether one piece of bread cut in half and used for sandwich-making results in a sandwich, and surprisingly the majority of respondents do consider this to be one sandwich. This is really interesting, because despite ending up with functionally and aesthetically the same result as one of the pieces of the sandwich from question 2, a significant number of respondents believe the results to be inherently different. I wish there was a way to better track how much overlap there was for those two seemingly contradictory answers, but the big Sheets page Google Docs is daunting and I don't feel like figuring out how to parse that data, so we just need to accept that we'll never have that exact number. That's how statistics works.

Question 4 mostly just cements the findings of the previous two questions. I do want to point out the one person who answered "who the fuck does this". Sandwich shops do this. Go to a sandwich shop for once in your life and really watch them do their work. Open your eyes.

Question 5 did not get me a lot of useful data, as it turns out having a question that only allowed for write-in answers was a bad idea. However, there are more or less two camps for people who really took these questions seriously and gave it their all. The first school of thought suggests that intent is the most important factor, and if you deem what you've made to be a sandwich, it's a sandwich. While I appreciate the critical thinking on display here, I believe in the other school of thought, which is that when you put ingredients between two breads that's a sandwich, baby. There is a sub-school of thought here that requires those two pieces to be whole pieces, but that's wrong.

One question that I should have included in the survey I think proves my point. If you order a sandwich platter from a deli and they use a single really long piece of bread (think like a several foot long hero) into multiple sections, you would say that you have sandwiches, plural. If you wanted to grab one, you wouldn't say "I'm going to grab a 64th of a sandwich" because you would sound deranged. Despite being parts of a larger whole, they are still ingredients between pieces of bread, and thus fit the definition of "sandwich."

Anyway, thank you for coming on this non-gaming detour with me. It was extremely important that I prove a friend wrong on this topic, and even though I don't think I did that and I think he's choosing to double down on his incorrect opinions, I'm still choosing to spin this as a personal and moral victory. New actual DidYouGamings will come out as soon as I discover any new facts about video games (right now there's only a couple hundred facts about video games at all and I've basically covered all of them.)

[edgeray]

Custody Battle with a Dragon

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N - Hi 🏹 anon! Accidentally deleted your ask when I did dragon! Arle part 3😅. Uhh… mbad. Reader just kidnapping three random human children is so funny to me, I will never not find this funny. Anyways, just wanted to say the only reason why I’m fulfilling both parts of this ask is because I already have to work on part 3. If I get an ask giving me more than 1 prompt, I will choose only 1 prompt to do. If you want me to do more, feel free to request from me, but with school starting soon, I probably won’t be able to get to many requests until I get used to the first semester.  By the way, since I’m lazy and don’t want to think of more/different worldbuilding, this will be like an alternative universe of my ‘dragon hunter mother' series and it will just be a role reversal. the lore with the hoth though is different from the series, i have a completely different backstory for arle and the hoth hehe. Sorry, this is really awkward and I didn't know how to not write it awkwardly since the reader decides to adopt them just impulsively and I doubt arlecchino would be happy about it. Naturally, they would clash but I tried to get them to get along. Not my best work... :( Content warnings / info - in arle's pov majority of the time, reader is referred as 'it' a few times, 1.6k words

Arlecchino likes to consider herself a successful and (justifiably) proud dragon hunter, among the best for the Tsaritsa. Dragon hunting has been in her veins since she was born into a well-known generation of dragon hunters. She's been trained and has performed the best out of her class in the kingdom’s most renowned dragon hunting academy, the House of the Hearth. Now, as the new head of the House of the Hearth, as ‘Father,’ she's able to change some things. 

For how rigorous and demanding the old House of the Hearth, underneath Crucabena (that despicable woman), it was also quite the precarious and perilous, though that was to be expected with what came with dragon hunting in general. It was easy to get into the House of the Hearth if you had enough money, and by then, you had basically paid for an early grave. Arlecchino remembers that the majority of her peers died, one way or another, before graduating. Families that were wealthy enough and had enough children were happy to enroll some of their children as an investment; being a dragon hunter paid immensely well given that they were paid by the kingdom themselves. 

Now, the classes were fewer due to the rigor requirements. Arlecchino has no need for people that want the job just for the money or to roleplay–with that mindset, they'll get themselves killed. For those seeking glory with none of the gore, for wealth without wear, dragon hunting is far on the list for what Arlecchino would recommend. It is daunting and never safe or relaxing. For this reason, the House of the Hearth takes very few individuals, often strays that she deems worthy and resilient enough for the task. A year is all it takes for her to train the small batch into formidable dragon hunters, about three times more valuable and efficient than the average hunter. 

This year's batch is particularly small, but that does make for more personalized lessons and unique opportunities. It's much easier to allow three children to accompany you on a dragon hunting mission than it is ten. 

Today is one of those days for the children to witness how a real dragon hunter deals with a dragon. Most hunters work in a group to hunt a singular dragon, though the best can do it alone. Today's dragon has been reported to have been killing some livestock occasionally–a few chickens here or there. At the very least, the dragon hasn't destroyed any other property besides the chicken pens, nor has there been any assaults on the people but the kill order is set in stone. Pity has no place among this job, but it is a shame to have to kill an innocuous dragon. 

“Children, maintain a good distance as we have always done. This dragon has been reported to be a two-paired dragon, so be cautious. I trust that you three will be able to handle yourselves during your observing?”

Lyney, the leader out of the three, nods. “Of course, Father.” 

The order should have been simple. It is. A two-paired-winged dragon is usually of little difficulty for Arlecchino, even with how volatile dragons are. Baiting them with fire as well as a large portion of fish is enough to draw the dragon out without waiting for it. With the help of the children, the preparations were done quickly, and all there is left to do is to ignite the fire and wait. 

Except, Arlecchino waits for quite some time. In fact, an hour has passed, and there are no signs of a dragon. Perhaps the villagers were mistaken on the dragon's whereabouts, though instances like these are rare. Nonetheless, it seems like that case, and the dragon hunter heads towards where she last left the trio. As she does, she hears a muffled outburst, recognizing it as Freminet’s, and rushes towards the direction.

Did the dragon target her children on the assumption that they were food? Did she make a mistake, bringing them here? Are their deaths on her hands once more, innocent lives lost because of her again? Her thoughts press her on as she increases her pace, fueled by fury and anxiety for her children. With each child she takes under her wing, with each soul she gently guides, with each hand she teaches how to wield a blade, a bit of her heart has parted and latched onto them. With the three, they are no different, except they are.

Lyney, the ever natural-born leader with a persistence like no other. Lynette, with a placid and rational demeanor to balance her brother's personality and fiercely loyal. Freminet, although timid, holds more potential and skill than he credits himself, and his kindness never fails to shine through even in his conscious actions. These three are endearing, as she has found all children she's taught in such a way before, but perhaps it is these children whom she'd like to call her own finally.

Drawing her sword once she spots the familiar silhouette of a giant, scaly beast, she approaches, only to halt as she takes in the sight. 

A sleeping dragon lays on their stomach in the middle of the forest, curled around Arlecchino's children, their tail hugging the children to the body. Instead of the two-paired-winged dragon that the villagers said, it instead has three-paired wings. That makes the dragon twice as dangerous. 

Against the dragon, Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet sit against the dragon's back. Once they spot the dragon hunter, they noticeably perk up.

Why the dragon is like this, the hunter is not sure, but she knows that it has taken her children. 

“Father!” They simultaneously cry for her. The dragon’s head lifts as they're awakened and turns their head towards the dragon hunter, snarling. They whip their tail upon the grass, and they stand on their legs.  

“Are you hurt in any way?” Arlecchino inquires as she prepares to lunge at the dragon. 

“Wait, Father, don't kill it!” Lyney states as he ducks underneath the dragon's tail, escaping from its vicinity quite easily. “It hasn't hurt us!”

“No? Then why did it take you three?” Arlecchino questions, her blade still pointed at the creature. Their slitted eyes glare at the swordswoman in response, also tensing for an assault. It spun its body the other way, this time standing in between Arlecchino and Lyney, and Lynette and Freminet. They maneuver their head to be beside Lyney, using their head to almost shield him from the hunter. 

“I don't know, but… it–they clearly have no intentions of hurting us. See?” Lyney hesitantly reaches out, running his hand on the underside of the dragon's mouth, and the dragon coos from the action, before opening their mouth to lick his hand. 

“I think…” Freminet states outloud, though his appearance is obstructed from Arlecchino’s view thanks to the dragon. “That we're their young. They have been offering us fish, and they're doing this right now.” 

Arlecchino contemplates the situation. The dragon had essentially adopted her children as their own, perhaps even imprinting them already, claiming them as their own. Trying to take the children away would not do any good, especially if it feels threatened, there is no saying what it would do to the nearby surroundings when enraged. But the dragon has been hostile, and given the children's defense for it… it seems that it is rather docile. The hunter narrows her eyes on the dragon, sending a nonverbal warning before sheathing her blade. The dragon relaxes. 

“Even though you three remain unharmed, you still are my children, and under my care. I cannot simply give them away to you,” Arlecchino addresses the dragon, placing a hand on Lyney's shoulder. “Do you not have any young yourself? Why take human children?” 

The creature growls, before shifting away from Lyney. Abruptly, the dragon's form is outlined with a blinding light, and when the light dies down, you stand in place of the beast. The three children gap at you, but Arlecchino remains unfazed, already aware that you have a human form. 

“I cannot bear any children without any mate,” you gruff, your tail flicking behind you in an agitated way. “Why can't I keep human children? They look so small. I can feed them better.” 

Arlecchino steps closer, her eyebrows furrowed slightly in vexation. “My children's diets are fine, and they are not in need of more.” 

“The little ones are tiny even for just hatchlings. You cannot feed your young better?” 

Never did Arlecchino think she’d have to fight a custody battle with a dragon. Should she kill you? No, the children have already rejected it. Though, she cannot deny that you are much more appealing now that you are in a human form…

“Children, what do you think of this?” Arlecchino questions, and all three, expectedly, hesitates. None of them could ever expect a predicament like this, and not surprisingly, a definite answer is hard to come from them.

“I will come with you,” you suddenly suggest, eyes gleaming with determination. “And you will feed me and not harm me. In turn, I will protect and parent the little ones, and I will not destroy another human’s building. Is that enough for you, dragon hunter?” 

“You will do that for human children you just met?” 

“I’ve been wanting children for over a decade. If they come in the form of another species, then so be it,” you assert, and your stubbornness only makes Arlecchino sigh. This is a headache. Though, it was nearly winsome of how protective you are over them, and Arlecchino can do nothing but surrender.

Arlecchino, proud dragon hunter, ‘Father’ to three, and now sharing custody with a dragon. 

[purinfelix]

special treatment ⊹₊⟡⋆ - daniel ricciardo

pairing: reader x compsci!daniel summary: to others, there might be absolutely no reason for you to be spending the night at your nerdy classmate's dorm room, but you know that he's the only one who you trust to check over your code - and look good while doing it w/k: 1k a/n: the brainchild of this late night blurb, the idea was too good not to turn into a fic so enjoy - i love writing my boys being nerdy <333 I LOVE NERDS

"We can't keep doing this. It's late."

"I know."

"Yet you're here again."

"I know."

You pause before continuing your pleading, "I need you, Daniel, you're the only one who can-"

"Get in," his voice comes curt, an attempt to hide the nervous unease he feels as he opens the door to his dorm a little wider for you. You shuffle into the cool darkness of his room - trying not to think of how suggestive this conversation might've sounded to anyone passing by.

If this had been any other day you might've taken a minute to pause and look around his dorm room, satisfying your morbid curiosity to know everything about the mystery you found this boy to be. But it wasn't the time for that, and you had little else on your mind when you threw your bag onto the floor and slumped onto his bed.

"I doubt our head of academic integrity would look very fondly upon one of their top students doing something like this," he mutters, sitting across from you on his desk chair.

"Probably not any better than they would on the top student for helping them get away with it," you challenge back, getting a kick out of the way he seems to squirm under your gaze, eyes darting between you and the floor.

It must've started around the end of last semester if you recall correctly. A couple final assignments, way too many cans of energy drink and a fated late-night library encounter had thrown you into a 'relationship' some might've seen as strange, but you thought more of as resourceful. Before that night, the thought of even approaching the guy you'd only seen leaving lectures early because he understood everything before the professor had the chance to explain it, seemed out of the question - equal parts daunting and embarrassing.

He was a cocky nerd, and there was little more you hated than someone who not only had an ego, but the means to back it up. You'd be lying if you said you didn't resent him a little every time you saw his name on top of yours when the class rank lists came out, but something about the stress of finals week had lowered your guard and forced you to swallow your pride.

"Fine, show it to me." He's so easy to break, you think to yourself as you fling open your bag to grab your laptop. Navigating quickly to the page of code you'd spent the last four hours unsuccessfully debugging, you set it down in front of him.

"Danny, I don't know what's wrong with it, and it's due tonight!" You watch as his eyes scanned the code, fingers moving masterfully as he fixed a line here, edited a call there. After a ridiculously impressive short amount of time, he clicks the program and to your delight, your code runs with no bugs. You're tired enough not to be embarrassed by your squeal of joy, but also awake enough to resist the urge to throw yourself at the man in front of you.

"You're my saviour, you know that?" You resign yourself to this, and it seems to do the trick as you watch him break into a shy smile - which, even in the low light, you can tell is accompanied by flushed cheeks.

"It's nothing," he laughs softly, pushing the laptop back towards you.

You're not sure why he keeps giving in to your begs for help, especially when - to you - you're not giving him anything in return. You've brought it up before, amidst offers for free dinner or coffee or lecture notes, things you'd think no other university student could give up. Yet every time he waves you off with the same content smile. Smart, cocky, as if he couldn't get any more annoying the asshole just had to be generous as well.

"Thank you, I'll get out of your hair now," you say hurriedly, shoving your laptop back into your bag and slinging it over your shoulder - eager to let him get back to whatever it is he was doing before you barged in.

"Wait," he says, and your hand pauses around the handle of the door.

It's silent for a bit, as you turn back to him and watch in fascination as his usually unbothered expression transforms into something you can't quite put your finger on - a strange mix of pain and confusion.

"Are you free tomorrow night?" he finally manages to blurt out.

"No, sorry I think I've got plans with a friend," you laugh awkwardly, still confused as to why this seems like such a big deal to him.

"Oh, alright," you watch his face fall and something in your heart twists.

"I should be free the night after though, what did you have in mind?"

His eyes shoot up to meet yours as he regains a little bit of the confidence you're so used to seeing him sport. "I was thinking I might take you up on your offer, for dinner?"

"Oh, of course, I mean I do owe you for all you've done for me."

"But I want to pay."

"Doesn't that sort of defeat the purpose of my paying you back?"

"Think of it less like you paying me back and more like..." he trails off towards the end of his sentence, and when you look into his eyes, eyebrows raised, you're quick to catch on.

"A date?"

He gives you half a nod, shy and a little unsure.

"Danny, are you asking me out on a date?"

"If it's alright with you, yes."

You let out a half-hearted laugh of surprise, letting out a breathy "of course."

Relief washes over your classmate's face as he sits back in his desk chair with a sigh and a grateful smile. "See you then."

You nod, a sudden shyness washing over you as you finally make it to the door and return to the harsh white light of the hallway - though now the code you came to ask him about is the last thing on your mind.

[amiableness]

Threads ; part one

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Language, angst, anxiety? Let me know if there's more!

A/N 💌 Part one is finally here, thank you for all being so patient with me and I promise the future parts will be better!

Interaction keeps me motivated to write, so I would love to hear your thoughts!

Series Masterlist!

The Great Hall is thrumming with activity as the anticipation of the new school year sets in. 

Sunlight pours through the windows, casting a warm, golden hue onto the tables and cold walls. The clinking of cutlery melds with the lively chatter and bursts of laughter that permeate the hall. Students eagerly catch up with their friends after the summer break, their faces illuminated with excitement and anticipation for the year ahead.

"I don’t know if I’m quite ready for this year." You admit softly. Lily, seated to your left, casts a surprised glance in your direction. Your tone carries a hint of nervousness, a stark difference from your usual excitement for the new school year.

As seventh year begins, the reality of it all felt surreal, almost as if time had slipped through your fingers without warning. Contemplating life beyond Hogwarts seemed daunting, a foggy landscape you weren't quite prepared to navigate. The thought of a future without the familiar halls and comforting routines left you feeling unsettled. Questions about your path post-Hogwarts lingered causing anxiety to tighten in your stomach. The uncertainty of what lay ahead, and where your friendships would stand in the grand scheme of things, clouded your mind.

"Because this is the year you find your soulmate?" Marlene's question hung in the air, causing your stomach to sink even further.

Soulmates were tethered by a thread, an intangible connection that tightens with proximity, drawing them closer by an irresistible pull. As their 18th birthday approached, the magnetic pull between soulmates intensified, drawing them closer together in an undeniable bond. 

Even in their younger years, soulmates could sense the faint tug of their connection, though it often was difficult to discern between fleeting infatuation and the unbreakable bond between soulmates. However, as the milestone birthday drew nearer, the pull became unmistakable, a magnetic force guiding them to their soulmate. 

At least, that's what you've heard from those who have experienced it firsthand.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that.” You confirm, and Lily sends you an understanding look. Neither of you had found your soulmates, while Marlene had found her soulmate in Dorcas.

The timing of finding one's soulmate varied greatly from person to person. Some discovered theirs early on in life, while others didn't find theirs until mere days before their 18th birthday. It all depended on the person and how open they were to the connection.

"We'll be going through it together." Lily says, her smile soft as she bumped her shoulder against yours. It did offer some comfort. Lily Evans had been your best friend since first year, and the thought of her being by your side made the upcoming year feel a bit more bearable.

"What if James is your soulmate?" You ask, your tone laced with playful teasing. However, Lily's hopeful expression catches you off guard, prompting you to shift your gaze towards Marlene in shock. Across the table, Marlene and Dorcas appear just as taken aback by Lily's unexpected reaction. It's a stark contrast from the adamant denials she would have offered last year.

"Maybe he is." Lily says quietly, her tone nonchalant as she offers a simple shrug, as if what she just said isn't a big deal.

“Are you..When did this happen?” Dorcas asks, and you and Marlene eye Lily curiously.

Since the moment you met him, Lily had been skillfully evading James's advances, urging him to seek out his true soulmate rather than pursuing her. Despite Lily's dismissals, James remained steadfast in his belief that she was the one destined for him. Deep down, you sensed a potential soulmate connection between them, but you never brought up the subject with Lily, knowing she would vehemently deny the idea.

Lily looks up with feigned innocence, “What?”

Marlene sighs, “Lily Evans, don’t you dare play dumb. When did your feelings towards James change?” 

"I don’t know. Over the summer, I guess, I realized I’ve been a bit unfair to him," She sighs. "He’s been nothing but kind, and I’ve just blown him off. And honestly, he was on my mind most of the summer."

"Merlin, we've barely been here for two hours, and the soulmate bonds are already starting." Marlene grins, amused.

"I didn't say I thought he was mine!" Lily cries out.

"You said maybe. That heavily implies that you do." You chuckle at the panicked look on Lily’s face, fully aware that she's going to be teased about this relentlessly.

"Have you felt a pull with him?" Dorcas asks, and Lily's cheeks flush with a delicate shade of pink.

“I mean, yes. But couldn’t that just be the annoyance I feel towards him half the time?” Lily asks.

"With that logic, you and Sirius are soulmates." Marlene interjects, her grin mischievous as she takes a sip of her tea, her gaze fixed on you over the brim of her mug. Your expression sours at the mere mention of his name, a subtle shift in mood palpable in the air.

“There is no way that Sirius Black is my soulmate.” You snark, the mere thought of Sirius causing your stomach to knot with intense emotion. Hatred, you conclude.

It's the mere mention of Sirius Black that tends to stir up the worst in you. His name alone triggers a cascade of emotions within you, igniting a visceral reaction that you struggle to contain. Just the thought of him is enough to set your nerves on edge, reminding you of past conflicts and tensions that still linger beneath the surface.

It's not as though you hadn't attempted to be friendly with Sirius. Shortly after your arrival at Hogwarts, James Potter had introduced himself to you and Lily in the Gryffindor common room. He was accompanied by Remus, and while James eagerly engaged Lily in conversation, you found yourself drawn to Remus, the two of you hitting it off. You chatted for what felt like hours, so engrossed in your conversation that you barely noticed Sirius and Peter entering the common room.

However, the moment your eyes landed on Sirius, it felt as though the air had been knocked out of your lungs. For a brief second you had wondered if he was your soulmate. Everything blurred into a hazy backdrop, your eyes unable to part from his figure.

Remus didn’t miss the way you seemed to drift away from the conversation, your gaze fixed on Sirius as he made his way over to where you all were seated. You and Remus occupied the couch, while Lily and James were comfortable in their own armchairs. Sirius and Peter hovered nearby, a curious expression etched across their features, clearly unsure who the two unfamiliar girls engaged in conversation with their friends were.

Remus had introduced you while James and Lily remained preoccupied, not yet noticing the two boys, "Mates, this is Y/n," Remus had said, his warm smile welcoming.

Peter had been friendly and eager, extending his hand with enthusiasm as he shared a bit about himself. But Sirius remained silent, his expression etched with a subtle frown. When you attempted to engage him in conversation, he responded with curt one-word answers, leaving you feeling increasingly self-conscious, questioning what you might have done wrong.

Remus had assured you that Sirius wasn't usually like that, and he promised that the next time you saw him, he would likely be more talkative and outgoing. You clung to hope, eagerly anticipating a change in Sirius' demeanor, only to be met with disappointment when his behavior remained unchanged. In the company of others, he exuded friendliness, cracking jokes and radiating outgoing energy. 

Yet, when his attention turned to you, he completely shifted, hardly communicating and barely sparing you a glance.

You couldn't figure out what you might have done wrong. From the moment you met Sirius, you had been nothing but friendly, offering a warm smile and introducing yourself with genuine enthusiasm. Lily, who shared many similarities with you, greeted Sirius in much the same manner, yet he responded to her without hesitation. It left you wondering: what had been so different about your interaction with him?

Over time, frustration crept in, and you found yourself growing increasingly sarcastic or curt in your interactions with him. Before long, your relationship devolved into incessant bickering and exchanging snide comments.

Any inkling that Sirius might be your soulmate was swiftly forgotten.

"Oi! Princess! You talking about me over there?" Sirius' voice cuts through the chatter, drawing your attention to the Marauders down the table. His cocky smirk meets your gaze, and for a fleeting moment, you wonder if he overheard your conversation. But he's too far away to have eavesdropped, yet close enough to call out to you, and his voice effortlessly grabs the attention of quite a few other students at the Gryffindor table. 

The students in your year hardly flinch, accustomed to the heated banter that often erupted between you and Sirius. Observing the familiar fighting between you and Sirius was almost expected; it wouldn't have felt like the first day of school without it for some of the students.

“Not everything revolves around you, Black.” You retort, rolling your eyes at his arrogance. Anger begins to simmer within you, heat radiating through your body as frustration builds.

You assume he must have just noticed you, considering you've been had a peaceful morning so far. But little did you know, Sirius had fixed his gaze on you the moment he entered the hall, and he's been eager to get under your skin. Anything to capture your attention.

Sirius, undeterred, flashes a grin that seems to stretch from ear to ear. “So mean already. Didn’t you miss me? The months without you were unbearable.” He calls, his tone dripping with amusement, clearly deriving great enjoyment from riling you up.

“Do you really think I spend my free time thinking about you?” You're sending him an irritated frown, but your eyes are lit up with a fire that's reserved only for him. It's the same look you get every time the two of you fight, and he loves it.

"I think you do, princess. I think I drive you crazy.” He declares with that smug grin plastered on his face, igniting a burning sensation in your stomach.

You remain silent, too consumed by anger to muster a response. His words strike a chord because, deep down, you know he's right. He has a way of driving you to the brink of frustration. You have wracked your brain, relentlessly trying to decipher why he harbors such animosity towards you and where you might have gone wrong with him.

You're momentarily caught off guard, your mind racing to come up with a response that doesn't betray your irritation, much less let Sirius think he's gotten to you. Fortunately, Remus swiftly engages him in conversation, likely sensing the tension brewing on your face.

"I'm telling you, there's a connection there." Marlene insists, and you shoot her a glare, prompting a laugh to escape her lips.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

The initial night back at Hogwarts always proved the most challenging for you. It took a few nights before you could finally settle into the unfamiliar bed and drift off to sleep without difficulty. The weight of it being your final year lingered heavily in your mind, along with the daunting task of uncovering your soulmate.

Seated before the crackling fire, you enveloped yourself in the warmth of your blanket, captivated by the dancing of the flames. Your silent wish lingered in the air - that, perhaps, if you remained in this cozy atmosphere long enough, fatigue would gradually claim you.

"Up late thinking of me, princess?" Sirius's voice breaks the silence, causing your body to tense reflexively. You shoot him a glare over your shoulder as he settles into the floor beside you, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames instead of meeting yours.

"What are you doing?" You quip, your tone laced with irritation. Sirius glances in your direction, leaning back on his palms with a subtle smirk playing on his lips. Amusement dances in his eyes as he takes in your furrowed brows and the unmistakable look of irritation etched across your features.

“Warming up. It’s rather cold in the dorm,” He says, before glancing down at the blanket that’s wrapped around your figure. “Care to share? ”

“Get fucked,” You huff, pulling the blanket tighter around your figure, your gaze fixed on the fireplace as you ignore Sirius's laughter, “Why are you sitting here? Go somewhere else.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“I’m not in the mood to deal with you.” You snark, your hopes of relaxing by the fire dashed by the unexpected disruption.

“And when are you?” Sirius's tone carries a teasing edge, and a mischievous grin tugs at his lips as he observes your bristling reaction. 

He longs for you to turn and meet his gaze, to shoot him the scathing glare he's so accustomed to receiving.

You turn sharply, your eyes narrowing into thin slits as you fix them on Sirius, a silent warning brewing in your gaze. There she is, he thinks.

“Go somewhere else.” You repeat, staring Sirius down.

“No.” He declares, shifting his position to squarely face you, leaving no doubt that he has no intention of backing down or leaving anytime soon.

“What’s your problem?” You grit out your words, and Sirius narrows his eyes at you as though you've struck a nerve. His reaction is swift, catching you off guard. While you and Sirius have always engaged in banter, he had never looked at you with such palpable hatred before.

“You.” He snaps, his voice dripping with disdain, devoid of its usual teasing lilt that never fails to irk you. Instead, his expression morphs into one of genuine animosity, a stark departure from the usual banter that fuels your frustration.

“Why? What have I ever done to you?” You're worked up now, your heart thumping with frustration as you pivot to fully face him. In your angered state, you miscalculate the proximity between you, and you're startled to find yourselves mere inches apart. Neither of you budges, both refusing to back away, as doing so would feel like conceding defeat.

Neither of you speaks, the air heavy with tension as you stare at each other through narrowed eyes, chests heaving with unresolved emotions. And in a heart-stopping moment, you feel it—the undeniable tug, the unspoken connection between you.

Your mouth parts in surprise, caught off guard by the intensity of the moment. Before you can truly react, Sirius rises abruptly and strides back to his room, leaving you sitting in stunned silence by the fireplace.

TAGS: @daisiesformylove @idkbbyx3 @dreamingofmarauders @siriuslyjanhvi @urmomw4ntsme @arwensloanebarnes @harahettania @kitchenbread @ghostheartbeat @dovahqueen22 @y0urm0m12 @thebiggestnaturaldisaster @opalesquegirl @galaxystern08 @scvtdy @123iloveyou456

[erinwantstowrite]

Let me just quickly say, cross-overs can sometimes get REALLY difficult to map out and write in a cohesive way but you have absolutely NAILED IT!! I absolutely ADORE LoF!!! I usually don’t even bother reading fics with the ‘Richard Grayson is Richard Parker’ premise cause I felt like they were super confusing and overcomplicated but this fic?? SUPERB. ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE. OH MY GOD I ADORE IT. Everyone’s characterizations are so nice and wonderful aaaaaaah!!!! <33333

Ok ok I did actually have a question as well: would you be willing to share what your writing process looks like in terms of a chapter you’ve already posted? I was just wondering since I’m also currently working on my own fic (it’s been a few years but I managed to get fixated on an idea and it grew legs lol) and I’m currently fighting the organization of it haha.

How do you keep track of the plot points and/or foreshadowing you want to get a ‘lightbulb!’ moment for later? Do you have any tips?

Thank you so much! I absolutely adore your writing AND your art is so gorgeous omg it adds so much to the incredible story :DDD I hope you have a good day!!

I have a secret: I actually didn't like "Richard Grayson is Richard Parker' tag for a while for the same reason. Sometimes they felt like they missed the mark or it's just. A thing that's there? I almost didn't include it for LoF, but I'm glad I did because it changed the direction in such a big way.

Another secret: this made me incredibly happy because I have read so many wikis and scoured the internet to make sure that I had enough info on both fandoms so LoF could make sense to anyone who's reading it, whether they know Spider-Man, Batfam, or neither at all. Sometimes I worry a lot before I post that I'll miss a mark and will confuse people.

As for the question: I definitely am willing to share what my writing process looks like!

Be prepared for under the cut, I love to yap. It's in my blood to yap. And that's why it took a minute to get to this ask haha

(Spoilers for Leap of Faith!! Everything mentioned has already been published ((Chapters 1-11))

I had to go and find out which chapter I wanted to use as an example and I think we're gonna go with Chapter 5 for the most part :)

My writing process is, as described by alighterwood:

I think the description fits because while I'm all over the place, I have to be very detail oriented and I store everything in one spot.

Starting with the overall process, what I find is most helpful for me, when organizing, is having a notebook rather than doing it all digitally. I've been using a 70 sheet notebook that I had lying around waiting to be used, and as of yesterday, I officially filled the entire thing front to back. It's been an incredible help, for a lot of reasons, but mostly because it's a lot easier to remember something I physically wrote down than it is to remember something I typed. I'm now on to my second notebook for LoF, and I might even have to get a third.

In another ask, startupkat asked me this:

And I shared a little about my outline process there, but I'll try to go into a little more depth here. Emphasis on little because this is so long.

I write a truly insane amount of outlines in this notebook.

This is just what I can show you, but a good chunk of the notebook is just outlines. Over and over and over again. That's because they're always changing/adapting based on so many different factors. Sometimes I get to a chapter I thought I had fully planned out and then realize it just doesn't work anymore. Other times, I get to the chapter and realize I don't want to write that anymore/isn't as interesting as I thought it would be. A few times I got halfway through a POV of a scene I was struggling on and decided to switch POV's, which will change up the outline for a chapter every now and then.

Which is why I don't write incredibly detailed outlines and try to keep it vague until I actually get to that chapter. It's a lot less daunting to rewrite a chapter outline than it is to rewrite the entire outline.

Fic outlines and Chapter outlines look a lot alike.

This is what I said in the other ask, but I didn't elaborate on it all the way.

I make a list just like that, and then I try to put it in chronological order/in an order that makes sense. I keep the Fic outline vague by writing down "Goals" for a chapter rather than scenes. But I also keep notes to myself if I really think something is important. The more important I think a scene needs to be, the more details I write down to make sure my future self recalls what I had in mind when I thought it up.

Really simple example:

Chap 1 Goal: Peter gets to Gotham and meets Babs while running around. Meet Nightwing too? Get shelter.

Chapter 2 Goal: Bats are like "???" about Peter. Batfam dynamic important... Peter stalking Batfam back? Peter meet Batman >:)

When I get to a chapter, that's when I make a far more detailed list of wants/needs/goals. It's the Step 2 from the Step 1. Here are some examples from Chapter 5:

Needed to have:

More POV's from universe 1299 (Peter's home universe)

Tony's POV more specifically, how he's doing/feeling, what he's figured out

What they've figured out on 1299 side vs what's going on in 1300 (Gotham)

Explaining more about Peter's trauma/his past

Dick learning more about Peter, and vise versa

Wanted to have:

Ned being a more central character

Natasha :)

Loki being a little shit

Tony and Cap bickering

Peter talking to Nightwing again

The last name Grayson

Gymnastics!!

(This is the shortened list, because the chapters are so long)

When I looked at this list before writing my outline, I had to figure out how I could incorporate everything. If I needed more 1299 POV's, and I wanted Ned, Natasha, and Loki, there's one scene accounted for. I had to get their side of things and wanted that trio together. I needed a Tony POV, and I wanted Tony and Cap bickering, so those went together, plus I got 1299's POV of Ohnn and his plans explained.

I needed to have Peter explaining more about his trauma, and Dick and Peter to talk/get closer. I wanted a Nightwing POV, to have Peter say his last name, and them doing gymnastics. I knew Peter wouldn't willingly talk about that, so I had him have a nightmare. Not only did it give readers perspective but it made Peter more susceptible to talking to Nightwing because he was more emotionally vulnerable/lonely, and that's how that scene came together.

That's when I would write down the chronological order of these events by writing out "Scene Blocks." (This is what I wrote down but my handwriting was so bad I can't subject y'all to it):

scene 1- Ned talking to Loki. Natasha should be nearby and observing Loki's behavior. They are not on friendly terms. Ned is more worried about Peter than he is as to what Loki could be up to, so Natasha takes on that role.

scene 2- Tony is freaking out about Peter being in an alt dimension. He should attack Ohnn when he's not prepared for it. Beat his ass? Beat his ass. Cap there too.

scene 3- Peter's nightmare. "Ben, where do you go when you die?" "Where do you think?" "With you. Where you went."

scene 4- Nightwing and Peter.

Of course, things come to attention when writing. Like originally, Tony and Cap were arguing in the Tower. But it was a little too much like his and Natasha's argument, and I kept in mind that Tony is smart. Sometimes I forget that the characters are smarter than I am, so I have to account for what they would figure out. So Tony would have picked up the puzzle pieces and come to more conclusions than I originally thought about, and I figured he'd be way more proactive about it than just. Being in the Tower and waiting.

Which means that that scene ended up being as listed above: having a squabble with Cap, learning more about Peter's dynamic with the Avengers in this universe, and seeing how Tony is reacting to it by throwing himself head first into trying to capture Ohnn.

I'll realize I need something else to be mentioned or put in and I'll have to shimmy things around, but that's basically how it goes.

As for other forms of organization:

Keeping a timeline is so important because it tells you a lot about the environment your characters are in. It's also important to remember what a character has on them, what money they've spent, who they've met/who you have mentioned, every alias that is being used, to read your work and write down edits you want to make before you make them, to write down ideas beforehand of situations you can use, and, most importantly: MAKE A MAP!! This has saved me so many times. Sometimes your brain WILL trick you or make it harder on you to envision a scene. Make a map of where your characters are physically!! It will save you too!!

As for foreshadowing and plot points, I'll let you in on yet another secret:

Your subconscious is doing a lot more than you think it is.

Sometimes when I foreshadow something, I didn't even know I was until I got to it. I very often go back to read chapters that came before this to see what I've mentioned and what I haven't, and when I do, I'll see something and go "I have to bring this back" or "I almost forgot about that!"

Other times, I am very aware of what I'm foreshadowing, and that's because I follow a mystery plot formula. You have to keep in mind everyone's intentions, all the time. How are they feeling? What are their motivations? And: what are they doing right now, while this character is doing this?

Like Beck and Ohnn. From the very beginning, I knew I had to make sure that it was obvious Ohnn wasn't working alone. From there, I had to weave through the story and slowly build him up as someone who's working behind the scenes. Even from Ned's first POV, I made sure to mention that this person knows Tony and is tech savvy.

My biggest tip is to make sure you reread your work or at least skip through it, because sometimes you don't even know that you placed something there.

And sometimes, it's very purposeful. :)

I hope this helped! I really tried to keep it short but I am insane and the process is sooooo long. It sounds complicated but it really is simple when you're actually doing it I swear

[sanemisstalker]

Homie I don't know if you've considered writing a part 2 for the incel Gyutaro modern! Au scenario cause it legit rewired something in my brain ajskaj 🤒💕- he's like a weird bug that's fun to poke and watch em S Q U I R M ah, I love it.

Like I can see later on y/n has an indirect impact on him even though it's a casual thing- like, telling him his cum taste bitter af and it convinces him to eat better if it means he'll keep getting head (toss in more regular showers in there now that I think about it) . Would also wonder how his sis would react to them hanging out-? 🤔

If it's not in your plans that's alright- either way, it gave me the strength to write for him and I am thankful for the food 🛐

Guess what this post is!!!! I was saving this ask so I could post part 2 with it or whateverrrr. I'm so giggle that so many people are interacting with that post, I didn't expect it to get such good reception!!

Also also, I do plan to write about how this Gyutaro definitely still raised his sister and is a bang up brother in spite of these mentalities he has! I have another ask that wants me to elaborate, and I'm planning on just making a big headcanon thing for him!!

PART ONE <-

CW// FEM READER// AFAB// BREASTED / Dub-con/Non-con (Gyutaro does something sexual under the guise he'll get laid, undiscussed BDSM dynamic)/ Panic Attack/ Vomit (not in a sex way) / Piss (kinda in a sex way)/ Sexism/ Incel mentalities/ Toxic Masculinity / Forced Bisexuality / BDSM dynamics / I say 'skullfuck' at one point / Gyutaro is reffered to as a toilet.

-Incel!Gyutaro's eyes had never even grazed a real dance floor, but there he was, at the big name club you'd dropped the location of 30 minutes ago. He'd hopped on his bike and sped there in what could only be called desperation.

-There wasn't a wait like in the movies. Not a big long line, and they let him in in his baggy jeans and stupid fucking Nietzsche shirt. He hadn't even realized he'd brought his bike helmet in until he was tossing it between his shaking, filthy hands.

-There were so many people. All of them taking their sweet time to gawk at his height and face. This was why he didn't leave the dorm. That and the abhorrent, terminally 2011 music.

-The photo had pissed him off. Bad. He'd come with the intention of a rematch (in your honor or whatever, he's not cringe enough to say that, though) and he planned to leave with you clinging to him like you were supposed to be.

-and obviously you were because there you were, hanging off Tengen Uzui's naturally bulging muscles with those 3 other mindless sluts. Not giving a fuck in the world about him or that skanky photo you sent.

-You were hard to spot in your slut disguise.

-You looked like every other girl there, and that pissed him off even worse, in a way. He had deluded himself into thinking you were good. Into thinking you were different from other females because you knew the bands and the movies, and you agreed when he implied that genetically you were just dumber-

-'Gyutaro!' You'd screech out as you locked eyes with the man. In the dark of the club, with the neon purple strobing over him, he looked almost daunting. With his helmet on one hip, and phone dangling from his other hand, Gyutaro had something similar to a western charm.

-You'd pop off of Tengen, who would only lift his head up to register the man, and then turn back to his girlfriends.

-The whole reason for their fight had been rather trivial, Gyutaro assumed, but, despite his lax appearance, Tengen did everything in his power not to smash the man's own helmet back over his head.

-He feared, along with Makio, Suma, and Hinatsuru, for your safety as you barreled into the man.

-You'd run into them with a new found confidence that night. After leaving Gyutaro in his sorry state, bounding up to the three women was far less intimidating. Almost like you shared a comraderie with them-

-and you had! The three were incredibly nice and immediately ushered you to Tengen where you all began to get a long in a picturesque fashion.

-You looked good. Hanging onto his arm with the other women felt good- You just had to take a photo.

-Gyutaro was going to panic. Tengen Uzui didn't scare him anymore, but that immediate jump from Tengen's arms to his, he didn't know how to satisfy that expectation.

-Of course he was better than Tengen- but on a "purely physical" level, he knew he would never have the stamina or prowess to conquer the bodies of three women at once.

-Especially not when he couldn't even fathom conquering you.

-'Ah, is this who you were talking about?' Tengen asked. You laughed in response, nodding with verve. Your body was beginning to shift against him- fuck-

-'Mhm, Gyutaro's my best friend.' You slurred, and it occurred to Gyutaro then, that you might be slighty inebriated. God, Tengen had an awful effect on you.

-His heart thudded at the words 'best friend' Despite your light and teasing cadence, were you friendzoning him? Would you just fuck any friend you had? Not that you fucked him- but you totally fucked him-

-'Oh?' Tengen sang in that stupid fucking tone that made Gyutaro want to rip off that girly fucking headband he wore. 'Have you slept with him?'

-Makio slapped Tengen's shoulder.

-'No, no- Not yet.' Gyutaro was panicking, now. Yet? Yet? You were planning to fuck hi-

-'Be careful.' Tengen sang. And that should've been the end of his thought, but maybe the drink he had was doing more than he expected, because Tengen couldn't fight the grin nor the words that spilled from his mouth after-

-'Tell him to try and last longer this time.'

-Gyutaro saw red, and blue, and maybe it was because of the weed air or the sex musk permeating past the bar- Maybe it was the anger he had at you for sharing such a thing about him- maybe it was because He'd been holding his breathe and plotting Tengen's downfall, and now he was-

-Who was he kidding, Gyutaro was going to fucking barf. The stress was too much, and his stomach rolled in response. He'd never been exposed to such an environment, or such an embarassment, and all he knew to do was turn away and try to keep it down until he got to the bathroom.

-'That was so mean!' Suma cried out as Gyutaro trudged away, attempt at disguising his mood futile. 'You made him cry!'

-'He literally called you a slut to your face at the start of the semester. What the fuck do you mean, mean?' Makio barked.

-You were in one of the gross stalls, pulling his scraggly black hair away from the rancid bowl. You weren't sure how he ate so much and still stayed so twig thin. He'd been puking for at least ten minutes.

-'I didn't expect you to come here.' You lied, having very much intended for that outcome. 'You think Tengen Uzui remembers every drunken, horny story he gets from a woman?'

-He was mortified. The idea that Tengen specifically knew something so intimate about him made him hear colors. Red colors. He was hearing the club lighting and seething at the red blur of the motion sensor on the toilet-

-The tile felt like splinters.

-'W-Why did you tell him that?' Gyutaro gasped out between spills. The question lacked his usual grit. It sounded genuine and hurt.

-He nodded lamely and went to drop his face onto the porcelain, but your hand swooped down.

-Your palm against his marred face was soothing. Lifting his head up from the toilet bowl, you wiped his mouth off with toilet paper.

-His heart fluttered. What a girlish emotion he was feeling.

-'I'm sorry.' You whispered and only semi meant it. Some of the things he said about women in the past months could've definitely validated such treatment. Some of the comments were bordering on illegal, others on beyond morally questionable.

-'It's okay.' He slurred, moving away from your hand to try and stop that flutter. You were quick to find his scar again, and, with hesitance losing to need, he rubbed against your palm.

-Cat. The word shot through your head and then retreated. No, no. A mangy cat. A cat with mange. Rabies, maybe even.

-'I wasn't crying or any-' as he began to speak, you pulled a small bottle of mouth wash out from your bag.

-'Tip your head back.' Gyutaro cut off his sentence and did as you said. The burn of the wash was painful. As he went to spit it out, you pressed a finger to his lips.

-'You get a gift if you can keep it in for the full minute.'

-It hurt. Gyutaro can't remember the last time he brushed his teeth, but the burn in his gums said he should do it more. He managed, though, and you followed through by pulling a tooth brush from your bag.

-Gyutaro had seen this plot before, in a hentai, probably, but he'd always imagined himself probing some innocent sweet trad girl's mouth with a tooth brush. Not being probed.

-You scrubbed plague off his teeth with precise intensity. His gums bled, and he whined. His jaw would occasionally stutter, and he'd bite down with enough force that you feared for your toothbrush.

-Another pass at the mouth wash and Gyutaro stared up at you, puffy lipped and teary eyed. You hadn't necessarily been gentle, nor had you avoided his gag reflex, but you leaned down to Gyutaro.

-His natural huffiness now had a pleasant bubblegum scent.

-When you pulled the vibrator from your pussy, Gyutaro nearly puked again. He hadn't noticed it in your sneaky photo, so seeing you hike your leg up on the toilet seat and pluck it from your insides made him see stars.

-Had you had that in the entire time? Had you told the other girls? Had you told Tengen?

-You dropped the vibrator into his lap. Not in his pants, not intentionally near his dick- on his lap. Gyutaro had taken on an all too natural kneeling position, and you dropped the vibe between the small gap of his thighs.

-Dull buzzing bounced up his thighs, vibratons too far to feel- And then you were pressing your cunt against his face, and he was taking in the scent of your pubes-

-He had been told that eating a woman out was a sign of submission. Got told it'd be gross, and to only do it when the situation was dire. And a situation with a female should never become dire- Having someone's genitals forced in his face like this-

-Gyutaro loved the smell of your pussy. The taste. His hands took to your thighs immediately, one slipping back to find the meat of your ass and bury his fingers in it.

-It would surprise you, how right he looked snug between your thighs. How his eyes fluttered back when he forgot he wasn't really supposed to be into this kind of thing.

-You could remember all of the things he said about vaginas. It often left you contemplating whether or not he found women attractive to begin with, but with his tongue rolling so naturally against your clit, you couldn't question it.

-He was made for this, both of you figured. Your warmth against his palate was ball tightening. He immediately took to it. You'd never seen such enthusiasm and love shown to your cunt.

-'Fuckkkkkk-' He'd moan, but with his tongue flat against you it came out in drool. His spit spilled onto his jean clad thighs, uncaring about anything other than eating you out.

-With his back against the toilet, and your hands gripping his hair, if you saw it from the back, it'd look like you were skullfucking the man. The thought made Gyutaro's already raging hard on twitch-

-And that's exactly how Tengen saw it when he opened the stall.

-'Oh?' He said, and you felt Gyutaro's grip tighten around your thighs. Today was just humiliation after humiliation, wasn't it? He knew by the stupid sing-song tone of the voice exactly who'd invaded his time with you.

-Black pulsed the corners of his vision.

-'Ah, Tengen-' You tried to keep your voice steady- not willing to let yourself be intimidated by a man his size in such a situation. Not infront of Gyutaro. He didn't need real life experience to back up forum rumors.

-'Can I use this toilet?' He nodded down to Gyutaro, and you looked down to the man between your thighs, a bit shocked by the ask.

- Gyutaro would pull off your cunt fast, wide eyed and all teeth.

-'What the fuck did you just s-' You lodged your fingers down his throat, Gyutaro gagging hurtfully against them. His eyes rolled back. He didn't know why having his mouth fucked with felt so good. It'd never felt this good when he was alone-

-'When I cum, yeah.' And Gyutaro was back on your pussy, a sudden fear lighting his movements. You wouldn't really let Tengen do that to him, right?

-Why was he depending on you, a woman, to prevent that? He should just get up and kick his ass- Tengen would have an advan...advantage.... an-

-Fuck your pussy was mind numbing. Fuck whatever Tengen wanted to do to him. He needed that juice.

-Gyutaro chased your orgasm. You were only slightly dissapointed he didn't cum with you- didn't show Tengen how good he could be. A part of you wanted to impress Tengen- to show off a little bit. Show what you tamed. Even if that taming was still very early in the works-

-When you came, Gyutaro smiled wide against your pussy. You pulled back with shaking legs and his head in your hands and he looked at you like Tengen wasn't pulling his cock from his boxers just centimeters away.

-'Just want your pussy, I need your pussy-' He slurred while you starred down at him.

-'If you drink it, I'll let you fuck me-' His ears would begin ringing. Shocked by his own actions, Gyutaro found his jaw unhinged, taking Tengen's flaccid cock down his throat.

-Maybe it was easier for him to accept because Gyutaro never dealt with penis envy. The two men were surprisingly matched. How unfortunate. You really wanted to see how Gyutaro would react to a cock that much bigger-

-Tengen took advantage of the willing hole, rocking his hips a bit much to Gyutaro's anger.

-'If you bite me, I'll drown you. Don't want to die with your head in a toilet, eh, Shabana?' Tengen taunted, sensing the upset from his thighs.

-You watched as Gyutaro's adam apple surged, and Tengen's head dropped back in relief. It was more than Gyutaro could take, obviously, because it began spilling from the corners of his mouth and onto his Neitzsche shirt.

-Gyutaro's face burnt red, and he reeked like piss. Tengen gave the other man's face a light, almost appreciative slap.

-As Tengen pulled out, a rush of piss came spilling onto the floor. He wasn't done though, a guiding hand locking around Gyutaro's jaw to tip his head up. The trickle was backed by the music blurring outside.

-His flow came to a stop, and he carefully shut Gyutaro's mouth. Gyutaro looked over at you with tired eyes.

-You nodded, and he swallowed.

-'Atta boy.'

-With Tengen's exit, you looked down at Gyutaro, dripping and still woefully hard. You pulled his messy hair back into a ponytail once more.

-'oh honey... when did I say you'd be fucking me tonight?'

-'Do I- Do I get to fuck you now?' He'd croak, trying to ignore the completely beer ridden piss on his lips. You looked at him so pathetically. It made his cock ache even worse than it already did.

-He could tell he wasn't going to get what he wanted before you even opened your mouth.

[lucy90712]

Is it too late?- Pedri

WC: 3.2k

Pregnant. The two lines on the stick were staring back at me as I looked at them in disbelief. My mind couldn't decide whether to be happy or to have a breakdown so I just stood there emotionless until tears started coming down my face but I couldn't tell you if they were happy tears or not. Part of me is a little bit excited as Pedri and I have been together for a few years now and as much as we haven't spoken too much about having kids we both said we'd like to start a family of our own one day so why not let that day be now. The more I thought about it the more the anxiety faded as I know Pedri will be a great dad and as long as I have him I know we will figure it out together. 

Pedri's not home as he's playing so I have a bit of time to figure out how to tell him. I didn't go to the game as I've been so sick the last few days which is why I took the test in the first place. With it being late I don't have many options and time isn't on my side as it's already half time so I don't have too long until Pedri comes home. My first thought was to tell someone to get their help but I stopped myself as I want Pedri to be the first person to know that we are going to bring life into the world. I really want this moment to be special so after a lot of scrolling through Pinterest I decided to go for something relatively simple but cute at the same time. 

After the game I got everything set up and waited for Pedri downstairs with my surprise hidden waiting for him when he got home. The more time that passed the more nervous I got and I started to wonder if Pedri would be happy at all I mean his career is still taking off and he's always busy will he really want to be tied down by a child. When the door opened those thought went away for a second until I saw Pedri's face and I could tell something was wrong. For a moment I wondered if he somehow knew and wasn't happy but then I remembered that there is no way he could know as I hadn't told a soul yet. Knowing it wasn't that I was suddenly even more nervous than before as it means there's something else that's wrong. What if he's injured again that would just be soul crushing for the both of us.

"Is everything ok babe?" I asked 

"Everything's fine but there's something I need to tell you" he said 

"There's something I need to tell you too" I said nervously 

"Hopefully we are on the same page then because I think we should break up" he said like it was nothing 

"W-what" I questioned 

"I'm sorry y/n but nows just not the time for me to be in a relationship there's too much going on in my life and I don't want something always tying me down" he explained 

"Ok" is all I could reply 

"What were you going to say?" He asked 

"Don't worry about it it's not important now" I said 

"Ok well you can stay here for as long as you need I'm sorry things had to end this way" he said 

No other words left my mouth I just took myself off to our bedroom and locked the door to be alone with my thoughts. Only after I sat down did it really hit me he just broke up with me and I'm pregnant with his child. What do I do now? I have to tell him right but nows surely not the time there's too many emotions and I know Pedri will say we should get back together even though that's clearly not what he wants. Do I even keep the baby I mean can I do this on my own. 

After freaking out for a minute I decided to be sensible and write down all of my worries then figure each of them out. First I decided that I would tell Pedri just not tonight as he needs to know but it doesn't have to be right this second. Then I decided that I could do this myself I have a degree and a good job plus I never actually sold my apartment when I moved in with Pedri a few months ago so I have somewhere to live. The more I thought about it the less daunting it all became sure it will be a lot as pregnancy and becoming a single mother will be hard but I can do it. 

As I'd made my decisions I started to pack all of my things including what I'd made to tell Pedri I was pregnant because as much as it hurts to look at now I want to keep it for the memories a few years down the line. Pedri was nice enough to help me get all of my things in my car and even offered to take some things himself but I refused and I just came back for them after dropping off the first lot of things. By the time I had moved out fully it was the middle of the night and Pedri was in bed so I looked around his house one last time before leaving my keys on the side and getting in my car. On the drive to my apartment I did nothing but cry, all of the tears I had been holding in all came out at once like a river flowing down my face. The tears didn't stop either they continued all night until I physically had no more tears to cry. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Text message 

Hey Pedri there is something important I need you to know I know we aren't together anymore but can we meet to talk or at least call it's not something you should find out over text

Not delivered 

Instagram dm

Hey Pedri we really need to talk please text me 

Not delivered 

Snapchat 

Pedri please we need to talk 

Not delivered 

~~~~~~~~~~

Pedri's POV

"Where are we going?" Gavi asked as I drove us both to get lunch together 

"There's a cafe not far from here and it's really good so we are going there" I replied 

"Oh I know that one didn't you say that was y/n's favourite place" he said 

"Can we stop talking about y/n we've been broken up for nearly 7 months now" I said getting annoyed 

"Sorry it's just you mention her sometimes and I know Fermin said he saw her around here the other day" he said

"So she still lives here I thought she might go back home" I thought out loud 

"I thought we weren't talking about y/n" he said 

All I did was roll my eyes as I parked the car. He's not wrong though y/n is often on my mind and sometimes I still find myself bringing her up in conversation. It only took a few days before I regretted breaking up with her it was such an awful decision but once I'd done it I couldn't go back she always said once something was done it's done so I knew she'd never take me back. I blocked her on everything so that I wouldn't be reminded of her but that didn't help as my brain couldn't forget and still to this day when I see certain things or go certain places I am reminded of her. 

She was truly everything to me she was there for every good moment but also all of the bad ones. If I didn't have her I have no idea where I'd be now I wouldn't be as strong as I am mentally that's for sure she taught me so much and always encouraged me even on the hardest of days. Everyday I looked forward to coming home and seeing her either making dinner or sat reading a book which she used to love doing in fact I still have one book she gave me insisting I read it and sometimes I am tempted but I have yet to even turn a page on it. Letting her go was such a stupid decision I can't believe I ever thought she was holding me back let alone thinking about it for long enough to actually break up with her. I don't know what was wrong with me but I definitely regret it I don't think I'll ever find a girl like her again but honestly that's what I deserve for being such an idiot. 

Gavi and I went into the cafe and got our food before sitting down at a table in the corner so we were out the way and out of sight from the street and people already in the cafe. We were talking like normal about training until I noticed Gavi staring at something behind me. As I went to turn around to see what he was looking at he stopped me so I assumed it was a girl he liked or someone he didn't want to see. The longer he kept staring the more he looked like he really wanted to say something which had me thinking it wasn't just someone he didn't want to see. 

"What is going on?" I asked 

"Nothing" he replied bluntly 

"I know you are lying just tell me what's going on" I said 

"But you told me not to" he said 

"What the hell do you mean" I said 

"Y/n is stood over there with a friend I assume" he said 

"I don't care mate we can be in the same place I will survive" I quipped 

"It's not just that she looks pregnant well not just looks she has to be pregnant and quite far along too" he finally spat out 

There was nothing he could do to stop me turning around after that and he was right she was stood talking to a friend with a hand on her belly. She was definitely pregnant like about to pop pregnant. That's when the memories of the night we broke up came flooding back she said she had something to tell me but she never told me what it was. It really made me wonder if she was going to tell me she was pregnant because I can imagine after I broke up with her she wouldn't want to tell me and I blocked her afterwards so she'd have no way to reach out. Of course it's possible that she's not as far along as I think and she's with someone else now but I can't help but feel like that's not the case. 

Gavi tried to talk me out of the spiral I had got myself into but it was too late. How could someone forget about the fact that their ex is in the same place visibly pregnant with a baby that could be theirs. I have to know even if the baby is mine or not and if she wants nothing to do with me I would completely understand I just have to know. We did talk about having kids and we both said that we wanted to start a family together one day but what if that day is nearly here and I had no idea. Part of me was hoping it was my baby as I don't think I can handle the thought of her being with someone else that isn't me while I'm still hung up on her. 

Without really thinking I got up and made my way over to y/n Gavi tried to stop me but I didn't listen to him I continued to weave my way around the tables int he cafe until my eyes locked with y/n's. She looked at me and I looked at her before looking down at her bump which was a lot more obvious now even though she was clearly trying to hide it. The friend she was with left and I used that as my chance to make my way over and sit across from her. 

Your POV

Life is hard enough as it is at the moment with me being 8 months pregnant and doing everything alone the last thing I needed was to see Pedri especially as I was never able to contact him to tell him but there he was stood in front of me. Once my eyes caught his I couldn't look away. I watched as his eyes flitted to my bump which I tried my best to hide but at this point it's literally impossible. There was a few seconds where I was hoping he would think that I'd moved on and was with someone else so wouldn't bother me but as soon as he started walking in my direction I knew that the situation I had been dreading had finally occurred. It's finally time to face the music and tell Pedri everything or as much as he wants to hear as its a lot to take in all at once it took me a long time to accept the situation.

He sat down across from me and we just sat in silence for a while neither of us really knowing how to start this conversation. As Pedri was staring the baby started kicking like crazy it was like she knew her dad was sat across from me and was begging me to tell him. Feeling her kicks made me think about the time Pedri told me he'd love to have a daughter as there isn't many girls in his family and he wanted to spoil her rotten which now was all I could think about as I sat carrying the daughter he wanted. The only thing that could break the intense eye contact between the two of us was my phone vibrating in front us both reminding me of my doctors appointment this afternoon. 

"So how have you been?" Pedri asked finally breaking the silence 

"I've been ok busy with work what about you" I said 

"Yeah I've been ok just got back playing after a few injuries" he said 

"I'm sorry to be so straightforward but I have to know is the baby mine?" He asked 

"Yes the baby is yours I'm really sorry I didn't tell you I was going to tell you the night we broke up then when I tried to reach out but I couldn't I probably should've tried harder but there was a lot going through my mind" I explained 

"Its ok it's my fault that I didn't know I'm sorry I haven't been there to support you" he said 

"Let's not get too hung up on that I know you probably have a lot of questions so just go ahead and ask me anything" I said 

"How about we get out of here and go somewhere more private to talk about everything" he suggested 

I agreed it was best to go somewhere else and Pedri offered to drive us both to his as I didn't bring my car so that's what we did. Pedri was so sweet he helped me into his car after he realised how slow I walk now because of all the extra weight I'm carrying. When we arrived at his place he did his best to make me comfortable but there wasn't much he could do as at this point in pregnancy I'm always uncomfortable. He did get me some water and while he was gone I looked around his place. It hadn't changed at all since the last time I was here he still had all of the pictures of us up and the book I'd given him a while back was still sitting in the coffee table unread. It felt as though nothing had changed while I was sat there which weirdly made me smile. 

The last 7 months since the breakup have been chaotic but still most nights I think about Pedri and how things would be different if we hadn't broken up. I still miss Pedri because as much as he broke my heart I still think he's the love of my life and it's not easy to get over such strong feelings like that especially when you have a constant reminder of that person growing inside you. If I could turn back time and stop the break up I definitely would and honestly if Pedri wanted to get back together I wouldn't hesitate to say yes although I would definitely want to take things slow and work on our issues. 

"So how far along are you?" He asked giving me my water and sitting back down

"I'm 8 months now my due date is the middle of next month" I said 

"And did you find out the gender?" He asked 

"I did we're having a girl just like you said you wanted" I said 

"She's kicking right now if you want to feel" I said 

He nodded his head so I took hold of his hand and placed it on my bump right where I could feel the kicks. It could be the hormones talking but watching the way his eyes lit up and feeling his daughter kick and seeing the bright smile on his face nearly made me cry. The kicks got stronger the longer his hand was on my bump which was cute until they started to really hurt which made Pedri panic when I started to groan at the pain but I reassured him everything was ok. He rubbed his hand over my bump telling our little girl to settle down before taking his hand back off which again melted my heart. 

We still had a lot more discuss so I told him everything and I even gave him an ultrasound picture which I always keep on me. I could tell it was a lot for him to take in but he kept asking questions and listening to everything I said. I was worried that he would be really dismissive and want to pretend that we aren't in this situation and the baby isn't his but he actually seems to really care. After I answered all of his questions and showed him all of the millions of pictures and videos I had we again sat in silence not really knowing where to go next. 

"Do you want to get back together" Pedri suddenly blurted out 

"Sorry that was the wrong way to do that I know I hurt you and I'm really sorry I have regretted it every day since you are the one for me and I realise that now I understand if you don't want to but at least consider it" he said 

"I would love to get back together I have missed you everyday we've been apart but if we are going to give this another go we need to do it slowly and I think we should go to therapy to give our daughter the best environment to grow up in" I said

"I'll do anything you want me to if it means I can have you back" he said 

He leaned in to press a soft kiss to my lips which made me realise just how much I really have missed him and how glad I am to have him back. 

[shitsndgiggs]

Can you write were the reader is distant towards Kenan for about a few weeks now Because she has to move back to her home country (usa )for school she doesn’t know how to tell him and she and Kenan get into an argument about it then they on break and he finds out other guys are trying to get with her but she ignores his messages and phone calls so he goes and visits her at her school

NO MATTER WHAT - KENAN YILDIZ

In which Kenan can’t handle the distance between you two

Kenan Yildiz x american! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

For the past few weeks, things had felt off between Kenan and me. Our usual easygoing conversations had become stilted, our laughter forced.

I could see the confusion and hurt in his eyes, but I just couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth, that I had to move back to America for school.

One evening, as we sat in our favorite café, I picked at my food, my mind miles away. Kenan reached across the table and took my hand, his touch warm and familiar.

"Y/N, what's going on? You've been distant lately," he said softly, his eyes searching mine.

I looked up, feeling the weight of my secret pressing down on me. I had to tell him. He deserved to know. "Kenan, there's something I need to tell you."

His grip on my hand tightened slightly. "What is it?"

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. "I've been accepted into a school back at home. It's an incredible opportunity, but it means I have to move back."

His face fell, and I saw the hurt flash in his eyes. "When were you planning to tell me?"

"I didn't know how to bring it up," I admitted, my voice trembling. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"You didn't want to hurt me?" His voice rose, a mix of anger and disbelief. "Y/N, we've been together for months. How could you keep something like this from me?"

"I was scared," I said, tears brimming in my eyes. "I didn't want to lose you."

"But you’re leaving anyway," he said, his voice breaking. "What about us?"

"I don't want to leave you, Kenan. But this is my future, my education. I have to go," I said, my heart aching.

"So, that's it? You’re just going to walk away from everything we’ve built?" He stood up, his frustration palpable.

I stood too, my tears falling freely now. "I don't have a choice. This is my dream. I need you to understand."

“Understand? You’re asking me to understand you leaving me!” He was shouting now, his face a mask of pain and anger. “Maybe we need a break, Y/N. Maybe we need to figure out what we really want.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. “Fine,” I said, my voice breaking. “Maybe we do.”

The day of my departure was a whirlwind of emotions. I stood in the crowded airport, clutching my boarding pass and looking around for any sign of Kenan.

Part of me hoped he would show up, despite our argument. But as the minutes ticked by and my flight's boarding announcement echoed through the terminal, my heart sank. He wasn’t coming.

With a heavy heart, I boarded the plane, fighting back tears. As I settled into my seat, I couldn't help but glance at my phone, hoping for a last-minute message from him.

But there was nothing. The plane took off, and I left Istanbul behind, feeling more alone than ever.

Arriving back home was both exciting and daunting. I threw myself into my studies, trying to distract myself from the aching void left by Kenan’s absence.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the feeling of disappointment. I had wanted him to fight for us, to prove that we were worth the effort.

Weeks passed, and the distance between us grew. I kept expecting to see a message from Kenan, but my phone remained silent.

I told myself to move on, to focus on my new life. But every night, as I lay in my dorm room, my thoughts drifted back to him.

One evening, as I was studying, my phone buzzed. My heart skipped a beat as I saw Kenan's name flash on the screen.

Kenan: Y/N, can we talk? I miss you.

Kenan: Please, just give me a chance to explain.

Kenan: I know you're busy, but I can't stop thinking about you.

Kenan: I heard some guys have been trying to get close to you. I can't stand it.

I stared at my phone, the messages blurring through my tears. I missed him too, but I couldn’t face him. Not yet.

One afternoon, I was walking back to my dorm after class when I saw him. Kenan, standing by the entrance, looking as lost and broken as I felt.

“Kenan?” I whispered, my heart pounding.

He turned, his eyes lighting up when he saw me. “Y/N, we need to talk.”

I hesitated, then nodded, leading him to a quiet spot on campus. “What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t just let you go,” he said, his voice filled with desperation. “I know I hurt you, but I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

“Kenan, this is hard for me too,” I said, my voice breaking. “But we need to focus on our futures.”

He stepped closer, taking my hands in his. “I know, but I can’t move on without knowing we gave it our all. Please, Y/N, give us another chance.”

I looked into his eyes, seeing the genuine pain and love there. “Kenan, I…”

Before I could finish, he pulled me into a tight embrace. “I love you, Y/N. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work.”

Tears streamed down my face as I clung to him. “I love you too, Kenan. But we need to figure this out together.”

“We will,” he promised, his voice firm. “We’ll find a way, no matter what.”

[elleloquently]

invisible string : ellie williams

| college!ellie au <3 depending on the feedback and if this is well received/people are interested enough, i would really love to make this a series! i usually just do drabbles and headcanons so this is a little different but i'm really excited about it, hopefully you'll all be excited too!! please let me know if this is worth continuing aaah i have a plot mapped out so more parts?? i am so excited to be actively writing on tumblr again and i just wanted to say hi and thank u to all of my new followers from the past few days!!

| c/w- reader has anxious thoughts

the transition from fall to winter was abrupt;

one morning you open your eyes and the crunchy, orange leaves have curled and gone brown. swirls of chilled air and frozen rain threaten to turn into snow which replaces the brightly colored leaves that once danced and twirled their way from the trees to the ground.

the transition from fall to winter means final exams, impending doom, and a great loss of sleep.

by the way you rushed to class, anyone passing by would've assumed you were running extremely late. however, it was quite the opposite. you needed to be exactly twenty minutes early. twenty minutes early to fix any hair that would've been knotted by the wind, and twenty minutes early to secure a seat that was a perfect distance from the pretty girl with auburn hair that was in your class.

finals season led to the lecture halls being crowded of students who hadn't previously attended class on a regular schedule, and you refused to once again lose the seat that you have been using all semester.

the sound of your shoes echoed through the silent hallway. In a flurry you were pulling your phone out of your pocket, pulling your bag higher on your shoulder and adjusting the bottom of your sweater. you heaved open the classroom door without a moment of checking your surroundings, which caused you to freeze instantly when you caught sight of the auburn girl sitting next to your seat.

the heavy door swung to a loud closing, causing you to outwardly flinch as the girl quickly looked up. the sudden eye contact made you cringe, but it was over as quickly as it happened as she turned back to slouching over her notebook.

in a moment of internal panic, you busied yourself with your bag as you fought with yourself over what to do next. the classroom was nearly empty, would she think you were a freak for sitting directly next to her? on the other hand, you had been sitting in that seat for the entire semester, surely she knew that? then again, she most likely wasn't paying attention to you in the way that you had been paying attention to her...

after a moment of hesitation, you swallowed your pride and slid into your seat with burning cheeks. you were nearly certain her name was ellie, but hadn't managed the courage to speak to her yet and the semester was nearing a close.

ellie was someone who instantly caught your eye. you wanted to be her friend, but never worked up the nerve to start a conversation. you noticed her a lot though, maybe more than you should. admittedly, on the days you have been tempted to skip class, you ended up attending simply due to one reason.

she was funny, you could tell by the way she interacted with other people in the class. and she was pretty. so pretty, in fact, you hadn't wanted to sit directly next to her because it was simply too daunting.

but now here you are.

a hole could've burned through your notebook because of how hard you were staring at it, feeling completely unsure of what to do with your body. sitting next to her made you feel frozen, and you mentally cursed yourself for being so pathetic over someone you didn't even really know.

out of the corner of your eye, you could see ellie twirling a pen through her fingers. you caught sight of her tattoo and thought your gaze might've lingered a little too long because the girl next to you suddenly sighed loudly, causing you to jump and refocus your gaze to your notes.

"alright, scale of one to ten, how fucked do you think you are for the final? I think I'm standing at a solid..six? maybe?"

heart thumping, you turned to meet ellie's gaze. she was staring at you with her eyebrows pinched together, but still had a small smile hanging off of her lips.

"same," you released with a nervous laugh, quickly frowning at your lack of response. you try to will yourself to think of something witty, ultimately failing but ellie smiles anyway.

her change of expression encourages you and you manage to spit something out without overthinking it.

"I really want to be more positive, but I'm horrible at taking tests. like, really horrible. It doesn't matter how much I study or if I love the material... I'm like, done for."

ellie nods and the conversation is short lived, but you're buzzing well throughout class. she doodles on her note pages and pieces of hair fall from her low bun to frame her face. you steal only a couple glances, using all of your power to focus on the professor and not the girl sat next to you.

in your determination to not let your eyes linger, you're completely unaware of Ellie's gaze. she notices your notes, detailed and organized, and the slight frown on your face as you scramble to make adjustments while the professor reviews information.

it's a miracle you're able to focus and class ends ten minutes early, a rarity yet well appreciated. you're trying to decide if you should get another word in with ellie while you're packing up, and she makes it easy on you.

"hey, are you doing that whole study group thing?" ellie askes suddenly, her tone growing in confidence as her sentence finishes.

sliding your notes into your bag, you pretend to think it over. in reality, you never considered the option. the idea of meeting up with people you didn't really know in an attempt to teach other class material sounded like an anxiety nightmare.

"I don't really know," you admit. "are you?"

ellie shrugs, nearly hesitating for a moment before standing and straightening her posture. she carried herself well, you noticed, fighting a burning in your face as you stood awkwardly after her.

ellie didn't verbally answer and her original asking left you curious, but you had homework due soon and no time to delay. after a rushed and mumbled parting, you left the class as quickly as you could without seeming as if you were running away from ellie herself.

the late november air was as unforgiving as the nagging thoughts in your head about a silly study group that you previously had no interest in. you were certain that you were reading way too into things... ellie had only asked a simple question and she surely wasn't going to lose sleep over it.

regardless, you found yourself double checking the date and time that the study group was supposed to meet, and making sure of your availability... just in case.

[ part two ]

[leafs-lover]

Too Far Gone - Part Fifty Five

A/N: I know this was supposed to be the last piece, but it was over 40,000 words and I was struggling with making it flow/ time jumps. With everything going on, it just seemed a little overwhelming and daunting, to a point I couldn't even consider working on it, so I decided to break it into a few smaller parts. There was a lot of this going on while writing, so any feedback is appreciated❤

Warnings: I didn't really proofread this so there's that, swearing, a little drinking, smut - oral (m receiving), p in v, cream pies, dirty talk, I think that's it?

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,600

The best thing to happen to Auston and Tia was the California road trip that started a few days after they got back together, not because they were sick of each other and needed time apart (they could barely keep their hands off each other), but because they could barely keep their hands off each other. Every time they started to talk, Auston would have that signature grin which would make heat would flare behind Tia’s cheeks and all their clothes would end up on the floor, or Tia would let out a sigh, but not just any sigh, a sweet and easy sigh that had Auston’s cock throbbing mere minutes before their clothes were on the floor.

Their clothes always ended up on the floor.

It wasn’t exactly a problem, but they knew that was the easy part of the relationship, and if they wanted to last, they had to be good at more than that. That’s why when Auston and the Leafs took off to California, they spent as much time as possible on FaceTime, talking.

They talked about going on a (second) first date, and the day he was back from he made good on that promise. Taylour went to Freds, and he took her to Lee’s - a restaurant Auston had been to a handful of times with his parents, sometimes with Fred and Morgan. Every time he went, he couldn’t help but think it was the kind of place he’d take a date but there never was a girl he wanted to share the experience with. Sitting there with Tia, he knew it was the right decision, because he is going to share everything with her.

They talked about telling her friends about them, and how they were going to do it. Auston didn’t quite understand why this was such a topic for them when she could walk down the hall to Becks’ apartment, or FaceTime her friends and let them know, but if it’s important to her it was important to him, so they talked about it. And the second night he was back they had her friends over for dinner and let them in on the news.

They talked about her past, her mom and dad. She talked about the rocky relationship she has with her dad, and the lack of relationship she had with her mother. Auston told her about his feelings towards Paul, and while he’d never get in the way of her relationship, he didn’t see himself having one anytime soon. When Tia told him she never wanted to see Kylie again, Auston told her he supported that decision and if she never wanted to talk about her again, she didn’t have to.

They talked about all the things they went through to get there. They had hard conversations about his past and some of the women that he was involved with. They talked about some of her personal struggles, therapy, and the way she viewed herself. The article and all the rumours were brought up, and Tia admitted that she was worried what lies people would say of her. That was when Auston realized how much growth Tia still has to do, and that while he loves every part of her and her past, she doesn’t.

But it wasn’t all deep or hard topics, they spent a fair bit laughing over things his teammates (mostly Mitch) did, or how Taylour saw a picture of eighteen-year-old Auston and said he looked silly without his mustache. They talked about school and her line, what her plan was once school ended in a few weeks, her plan for next year and the year after that. Auston couldn’t stop smiling at the way she lit up talking about all the accomplishments she hoped to have.

They talked about the twinkle Tia noticed in Auston’s eye when they were talking to Mitch about Zeus. He had been considering a dog for a while, but he knew there was no world where Taylour would spend a day away from it, which meant during every road trip Tia would have to watch the dog. Given everything that had been going on, it didn’t seem like a reasonable request, but with her mental health in a better place, school finishing soon, and them dating, it felt like the right time. And while they agreed to wait until after the hockey season ended, Tia was flooding his phone with pictures of dogs.

While discussing the summer, along came the topic of where to spend those months. Tia always stayed in Toronto, but that was because she had nowhere else to go. Up until finding out about Taylour, Auston spent his entire summer in Arizona. Obviously, he was going to spend his summer wherever Tia was, but to him Arizona made sense. Tia needed space to sketch, sew, store fabrics and accessories, and he has a house in Arizona with multiple spare bedrooms, a pool for Taylour and a backyard for the dog. Scottsdale has more space than they could ever need, it also has privacy, something Toronto lacked.

It made sense. Tia knew that. She also knew they would visit and at any point they could return. She also knew getting a few months away from fans and possible rumours would be good for them (and for her), but his parents are in Scottsdale, and there is no way to spend months there and not see them. And even though Auston told her how he felt about her parents, she couldn’t tell Auston how she felt about his parents, so she agreed.

Auston knew she had walls up when it came to his family, he just hoped that she would tell him what those reservations were. Instead, she’d change the topic to anything else, and Auston knew this was something they’d have to talk once he returned from his road trip. Unfortunately, they never got around to it, because after their second first date (which of course ended with them drenched in sweat), and the dinner where she told her friends (which again ended with them drenched in sweat), COVID-19 erupted around the globe.

The league and Tia’s classes paused, the three of them hunkered down at Auston’s condo in Toronto for a few days. They had movie nights, cooked dinners as a family, made forts in his living room, then bigger and more elaborate forts when Taylour deemed it to be “not good enough.” They were living in a (public health recommended) bubble, and everything was perfect, then came the announcement everyone knew would happen, all major sports leagues were going on a hiatus, classes were cancelled indefinitely, borders were closing, and everything they thought they knew was about to change. Instead of going to Arizona in June, it was March when they were touching down.

Auston thought being there early might force Tia to talk about all the things she had been ignoring and tried to bring it up last night. That conversation was put on hold when Tia found a different use for her mouth. He considered bringing it up after, but then she went in the shower, and the idea of his wet and naked girlfriend had him at a loss for words. When Auston finally had the mental capacity to bring it up, her snores started to fill the room and once again that conversation was put off.

“Morning.” Auston follows the voices to the kitchen, then places a soft kiss to her cheek. “I don’t like it when I wake up and the beds empty.”

“I went for a run, then our son wanted breakfast.” Tia turns slightly, ensuring the next kiss hits her lips. “Made you some too.”

“You’re amazing.” Auston mumbles against her. “But I still prefer waking up next to you.” With a faint blush hitting her cheeks, Auston turns toward their son who is wearing swim trunks, no shirt, and a bucket hat at the kitchen island, a towel messily crumpled on the stool next to him. “What do you want to do today, Tay?” 

“Swim,” he beams over his eggs. 

Auston chuckles. He reaches down to his plate and grabs a piece of bacon and tears a chunk off with his teeth. “Figures.”

“And see Nala.”

Auston laughs again at the predictability of his son.“You’re going to see Nala tomorrow,” Auston tells him, immediately being met with a disappointed grumble. “What about you?” He peers down at Tia. “When do you think you’ll be done today?”

“Around lunch.”

“Are you actually going to be done at lunch?” He hates how desperate he sounds.

Up until five days ago, Tia spent most of her time with them. Swimming, playing air hockey, watching whatever show or movie Taylour picked, because he always got to pick what they’d watch. Then the packages started to arrive. First was a sewing machine, then came bundles and bundles of fabric – every colour, pattern and material he could imagine. Then came a desk for the sewing machine, and a second to be used as a workspace. Next was the bookshelves and cabinets, needles, buttons, zippers, pins and clasps; then came the containers to store the needles, buttons, zippers, pins and clasps. There was a pegboard and a corkboard (which Auston learned are different and she did need both), a printer, clothing racks, mannequins, new lights.

After Auston had carried everything upstairs, spent days assembling it and rearranging the furniture so many times he lost count, his girlfriend disappeared. Eager to get the most out of her day, breakfast is always made before he even wakes up. And before he has the dishes put away, she is gone, tucked away in her office, sewing, sketching, cursing at something that isn’t working the way she wants it. He’ll bring up lunch, and she’ll always say how “she is almost done and only has one more thing to do” yet, she doesn’t finish up until dinner.

So yeah, maybe he is a little desperate to spend time with his girlfriend.

“You just want to see me in a bathing suit.” Tia teases, smirking when heat flares on his cheeks. 

 “I want to see you without a bathing suit,” Auston whispers, quietly so Fred and Trevor can’t hear.

Tia takes a gulp and Auston winks, then gives one of his signature smirks. His hand finds the small of her back and he holds her close, and smiles before pressing his lips to hers. He loves how easily he can make her squirm.

“Daddy, why do you kiss mommy?” Taylour asks innocently, as he pushes the empty plate towards the center of the island. 

“Uh, well,” Auston starts. His eyes bounce from Tia to Taylour and on the way, he can’t help but notice the small grins his friends are making zero effort to hide.

Auston had been noticing just how observant Taylour was becoming, repeating back something he heard, doing something Fred had done two or three days prior. He wasn’t all that surprised that Taylour recognized the change in his parents’ relationship, but he was concerned about just how much he had been noticing. Did he notice when they’d disappear for twenty minutes in the middle of the day, and wonder where they went? Did he hear that comment about wanting to see her without a bathing suit, and was he going to have questions about what that meant? Did he hear some of the other comments Auston made when he assumed Taylour was distracted? How much had he picked up on, and how much was Auston going to have to explain?

“Let’s go sit on the couch and we can talk,” Tia offers, holding a hand for Taylour to clasp. 

Once in the living room, Taylour climbs up on the couch, Tia and Auston taking a seat beside him. Glancing to Auston, then down to Taylour, Tia is the first to speak. 

“Daddy and I kiss because he is my boyfriend, and boyfriends and girlfriends are allowed to kiss.”

“But you didn’t kiss Daddy before.”

“Daddy was just my friend before, and when someone is just a friend you don’t kiss them. But now Daddy is my boyfriend so I can kiss him.”

Taylour blinks and his forehead creases as he tries to process what Tia is telling him, evident that he is still confused.

“You know how Charlie is your friend, and you have lunch or go to the park together?”

“We go to the zoo sometimes too.” Taylour smiles and nods.

“Right, friends’ hangout and do all sorts of fun things together. Sometimes when people are spending time with their friends, they realize that they really like them and want to see them more.”

“Well, I really like Mommy.” Auston chimes in.

“I like Mommy too,” Taylour smiles.

“Yeah, your mommy is pretty awesome” Auston smiles at Tia. “And when we were friends and would go to dinner, watch a movie or go skating as friends, we realized we liked each other a lot. So, I asked Mommy to be girlfriend and she said yes, now we can kiss and go on dates together.”

“Oh.” Taylour blinks a few times, processing the information, then nods. “Okay.” 

“Do you have any questions?” Tia asks him. 

“What’s a date?” 

Tia softly laughs. “A date is just spending time together. It can be going shopping, getting dinner, taking a walk. If Daddy and I are doing it together, we’re on a date.”

“Are you still going to spend time wif me?” Concern floods his face as his wide eyes bounce between them.

Auston chuckles softly and pulls him into his lap, and Tia scoots closer. “We will always spend time with you. With Mommy being my girlfriend, it means we have more time together as a family. You won’t spend time with just Mommy at her house, or just me at my house, there will be one house and all three of us will live there together.

They talked about what life after the summer looked like, but they didn’t really come up with a plan. They were going to spend the next few months dating, spend the summer together in Scottsdale, and see how they felt then. Maybe Tia would renew her lease, maybe she wouldn’t, and she’d move into Auston’s place. It wasn’t much of a plan but they both agreed to it, then came covid.

It made sense for them to stay together, but that was out of necessity, and they never discussed what they’d do once life returned to normal. If the past few weeks showed Tia anything its that she doesn’t want to live apart and her heart flutters knowing he feels the same way.

“Every morning we’ll have breakfast together, we can play together, go swimming or to the park, we can watch movies together, and every night we both get to tuck you in. You’ll get to see Daddy and I every day.” 

“I like that.” His joyful voice coos as he cranes his head to smile at Auston, then to Tia. 

“Me too.” Auston softly kisses his forehead. 

“Is uncle Freddie your boyfriend too?”

A small howl can be heard from the kitchen which they both ignore. “No. Uncle Freddie and Uncle Trevor are just my friends. Only Daddy is my boyfriend, so I can only kiss Daddy.”

It gets quiet for a second as Taylour thinks over everything. Then he turns towards Auston. “Can I play with my toys?” 

“Do you have any more questions?” When he is met with a soft shake of the head, Auston loosens back his grip and Taylour slides off and wanders to the mountain of toys that are monopolizing a large portion of the living room.

“He is too observant.”

They both watch Taylour grab his Hulk figurine and start running him along the floor towards his farm animal encounter. He lets out a playful scream as he gallops the horse figurine in the opposite direction, then flips them both in the air.

“I didn’t realize we were kissing that much.” Tia says quietly.

“It’s fine.” He wraps his arms around Tia and yanks her closer. “It’s good for him to be around parents who are open, honest, and able to show love.” His lips find her hairline. “I had that growing up, it helped me.” 

“Yeah.” Tia takes a second, then lets out a peaceful sigh. He is right, of course he’s right. She grew up with secrets and lies, a father who struggled to show emotions, it affected her in more ways than one. “You’re right.”

“I know…speaking of dates, I’m taking you on one tonight. Dress hot.” 

“Are you saying leggings and one of your tees isn’t hot?” she laughs, eyeing down her current ensemble. 

“You’re hot in anything,” Auston tells her. “But I was thinking something tight…or short… short is probably better,” he thinks to himself. “Easier to fuck you in.” 

“Auston,” she playfully scolds him. While it may be good for him to see loving parents, she doesn’t want to have to explain what that means to a four-year-old. “Where are we going, everywhere is closed?” 

“Leave that to me. We’ll go after his bedtime.”

**

Tia spent the entire day thinking about their date. While they spent all their free time together, they only had one actual date since getting back together, all the other nights were spent with her friends, his friends, or Taylour.

While feeding the fabric through the sewing machine she contemplated if she should wear a skirt with the corseted bodysuit, she finished up a few days ago. Unjamming the thread, she started to consider the dress she was currently working on and if she could get it done in time. Packaging up an order from the website, she began to wonder if the leather pants with the crop top that has proven to have very good results was the way to go.

Tia is nervous, but an excited nervous.

Butterflies circle her stomach and every time she thinks about him or what he has planned, she’d feel a warm haze ripple up her spine. While it is technically their second date, and she wasn’t involved in the planning and had no idea what to expect, Tia has big plans for their date and wants…no needs it to be perfect.

When it was finally time for Tia to get ready, she started with makeup, something she hadn’t worn in weeks. It was only supposed to be a light layer, some concealer and mascara, maybe a little lip gloss but by the time she finished she had used almost every product and brush she owned. Her eyes were painted dark with wings at the side, a warm glow reflected off her face from the bronzer and the blush drew out her cheek bones. Once her hair was curled and she was dressed in the outfit Becks helped her pick, she grabbed her black robe and tightened it around her body - they were tucking Taylour into bed, and Tia wanted Auston to wait just a little bit longer.

She found Auston lying on Taylour’s bed with his ankles crossed. He had on a pair of beige shorts and a collared white t-shirt that not only hugged his biceps but perfectly displayed the ink that decorated his arm. Just as she knew what she was doing when painting her lips bright red, he knew what he was doing when pulling that shirt over his torso.

She gulps, then fills the space on the other side of the bed. The two of them read Taylour one story, then another, and eventually he drifted off. Tia kissed his forehead and tucked Geoffery in under the duvet. Auston closed the book and set it back on the bookshelf, then kissed his temple while whispering goodnight.

They barely made it to the hall before Auston had her caged against the wall, his hungry lips pressing into hers.

“Auston.” Tia lets out a strangled breath, then swats at his hand as they try to slide under the robe. “Trevor or Fred might see.”

“Fred is at Danielle’s; Trevor is watching a movie in the basement.” He explains, slotting a knee between her thighs.

“You’re going to smudge my lipstick.” She moans, using the thinnest argument possible.

“Good.” he growls, his voice thick and full of gravel. He grabs at the tightly bound bow and gives it a firm tug. “I want that cherry red all over my body by the end of the night.”

With the robe left in a heap on the floor, Auston steps back to drink her in, and as always, she does not disappoint. Little black dress hardly seems appropriate given just how little this dress is. The cut practically drops to her belly button and the hem is inches above her knees; how the tiny straps are holding up her breasts is beyond him. He utters a curse word at the same moment his dick twitches, then grabs her hand and drags her down the hall toward their room.

“What are you doing?“ She lets out a laugh. She is in no way upset about spending their date in bed, she kind of expected a portion of it to be there, she just assumed there would be some kind of activity prior to the bedroom.

“Roof,” Auston tells her, reaching the bottom of the stairs.

When they get up to the roof, Tia can tell he had been planning this for a bit. In the middle is a small two-person table, something he would have bought specifically for this. It has a cream-coloured tablecloth draped over it, a bottle of wine sitting on ice and a bouquet of white lilies is in the middle. At least thirty candles of varying size line the rooftop, all flickering with the faintest of breeze.

“Wow, it’s so pretty,” Tia says softly, taking in the red and orange sky as the sun slowly drops behind Camelback Mountain. 

“Yeah,” he kisses her temple. “You really are.” 

“Oh my god,” she bursts out laughing and turns to him. “Does that line actually work?” 

“I already have you, so does it really matter?”

Auston barely made it through dinner, he argued for them to have a “late” dinner because he didn’t want to wait any longer, but Tia said Trevor put a lot of work into making them dinner (because she knew there is no world where Auston could have prepared this) and she wanted to enjoy it while still hot. She ate slow, purposely, and painfully slow. She poured them each a second glass of wine and they talked, smiling, and laughing as the sky began to get darker and darker. But the second she set her fork down and wiped the sides of her lips, Auston dragged her to the outdoor couch a few feet away.

“How’d I get so lucky?” Auston murmurs, breathing in the familiar perfume, the scent transporting him into a hazy dream.

Tia rolls her eyes at yet another cheesy line, but that doesn’t stop him. He moves in closer to let their noses touch, followed by their lips. She releases a soft moan that he is quick to swallow. His large hand finds her thigh and  begins to work its way up, the barely there skirt of her dress bunching around his wrist.

“No underwear?”

“Just gets in the way.”

Auston smiles. He couldn’t agree more.

He nudges her legs apart and continues to play with her lower lips, grinning every time she shudders under his touch. The warm glowing candles dance along with the faintest breeze. Her entire body briefly tightens when his fingertips press their way inside, but by the time he is knuckle deep a fire is coursing through her veins. She lets out a sweet little breathy moan, and Auston can’t stop smiling at the disgusting slurp oozing out from between her legs.

“Aus,” she mewls.

“Like that?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer because he doesn’t need one. He knows what she likes. His fingers curl in, hitting her deep and hard, his thumb runs in a perfect oval shape over her pulsing bead. He is thrusting his digits in so hard and so deep that she is tugging forcefully at his hair for stability. His fingers build to a pace that makes everything inside feel as though it is about to burst. His cock is hard, and she can feel it pressing into her hip.

Words die on her lips. Strangled incoherent sounds are all she can manage as the sorcery Auston is doing with his fingers renders her mute. Every stroke, every thrust of his digits and brush of the clit, its precise, perfectly placed and has the pressure inside her core at an all-time high.

Wet begins to drip around his expensive watch. He whispers in her ear works her through it, smirking when her body slumps against his. When he finally pulls his fingers out, he brings them up and taps on her lower lip.

“Open.” He instructs, and of course Tia obliges. Opening, she wraps her lips around them one by one and licks them clean. He brings her in for a searing kiss and groans at the essence on her tongue. Gently, Tia cups him over his shorts and Auston hisses, his cock stirring. She rubs harder, encouraging it to swell, smirking as Auston curses her name.

Tia gives his forehead one final kiss, then drops to her knees. Big brown doe-eyes gaze up at him, full of anticipation, as she reaches for his belt. Tugging it open, Tia drags his shorts and boxer down, until they are bunched at his ankles. Her mouth fills with saliva as he springs free, tip coated in pre-cum.

“T-“

Even though it’s soft and featherlight, Auston loses his train of thought the second she kisses the tip. Almost instinctively, his hands are in her curls pulling them back into a makeshift pony to give himself the best view. Keeping eye contact, she slowly drags her tongue along his throbbing vein before taking him in.

She watches his throat bob, arousal constricting his airway as she swirls her tongue around his shaft. Tia tries to not notice the way his hand tightens when she cups his balls or how he hisses when she takes him to the back of her throat, but it only makes her eager to do it again.

Her head continues to bob up and down. She swears she can hear him whispering her name, but between the grunts mixed with curse words she can’t be sure. Her knees ache from the hard concrete but it pales in comparison to the yank at her scalp as he spills hot, white cum down her throat.

“Shit baby.” Auston laughs.

He helps her to her feet, grinning when she stumbles on her heels. He hikes the skirt of her dress up over her hips then grabs roughly at her ass cheeks, pulling her forward until she is straddling him.

“You like that?” She asks bashfully, pulling her lower lip through her teeth. 

With a surge behind his eyes, Auston uses his thumb to wipe the string of cum from her chin.

“Don’t act so innocent.” He brings her in for a searing kiss as Tia reaches down and grabs at his length, tugging at it, encouraging it to grow. “We both know your not.” Auston tangles his hand in her hair, then groans as she teases the head of his shaft through her swollen pussy lips. “You never have been.” He’s inside her in one swift stroke, stuffing her to the brim for a split second before he’s pulling back out. “We both know you want more,” he accentuates with a deep thrust. “Need more.” He thrusts again, this time earning a faint whimper which only inflates his ego more. “You need my hot cum dripping out of your tight cunt. My hands all over your body, teeth leaving marks your too proud to hide.”

“Shit…I….Fuck.” Tia can barely keep her eyes open; bolts of pleasure eviscerate her nerves.

“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you don’t need this.” He chastises thickly.

As the taste of copper floods her mouth, Tia realizes just how hard she’s been biting at her lower lip. She forces her eyes open and runs one hand up and down his jaw, through the scruff he hasn’t bothered to shave. He continues to move inside of her, smirking as the sliver of composure she’d been desperately clinging to all but fades. She doesn’t think she can speak, so she kisses him. For a moment he lets her sloppily lick inside his mouth, lets himself swallow the moans and gasps she is struggling to part with. But after a second, he puts his lips to her ear and whispers, “Tell me I’m wrong, T.”

Legs trembling, she can feel her orgasm beginning to crest. “I can’t,” she admits through a painful whisper.

“Why not?”

She can feel the smugness that rolls off him with every perfectly placed thrust.

“I love you!” Tia blurts out, unable to contain herself anymore. 

Auston stops moving and his eyes shut for a second. When he opens them, Tia swears they are full of disappointment.

“Seriously?”

Tia’s heart drops into the pit of her stomach. She shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes.

So many times over the past few weeks she felt those words on the tip of her tongue, she’d look up to see this desperate look in his eyes, as if he was waiting for her to say it. She thought saying those words would bring a sense of relief, the final piece to their puzzle. She was confident he was going to say it back and now she doesn’t know if she can recover.

“I had plans…my hand around your neck, my other on your ass…you cuming all over my cock, twice, I was going to fuck you into oblivion... I can’t do that ten seconds after you tell me you love me.” It falls silent and she can feel the gears spinning in his brain. “No,” he says, shaking his head. “The first time we say I love you can’t be followed up with me yanking your hair and leaving bite marks on your ass.”

“Technically, you didn’t say it,” she breaks her silence to inform him. Unable to breathe the same air as him she pushes away and tries to climb off, but his grip only tightens.

“Tia.” He gives her a look. “I obviously love you.” He laughs and brushes her sweaty bangs behind her ear. “Just like it it’s been painfully obvious you’ve been wanting to say it for weeks.” Auston kisses her, passionately, barely giving her the opportunity to process it all.

“I have no idea what you’re –“

“I need you?” Auston mocks, giving her an amused look. “You said that within minutes of getting back together, but I knew it meant more. All those stupid looks at breakfast or the way you’d trail off mid-sentence while chewing on the inside of your cheek. I said it first last time, I was trying to give you the opportunity to say it first this time, but you were taking too long, I was going to tell you tonight.” 

“Oh.” Tia cheeks pool with embarrassment.

“I had a plan.” He leans forward and peppers her collarbone with kisses. “Dinner, flowers, sunset, I was going to tell you before sex...” His hands wander around to the zipper and he sloooowly pulls it down, the fabric loosening around her breasts. “Then I saw what you were wearing and well…” Auston grabs at the material bunched around her middle and pulls it up, then tosses it aside. “I decide to wait a little bit longer.” Auston puts his hand at the nape of her neck and pulls her in, placing a soft kiss against her lips. “I was going to lean in and tell you right as I filled your tight little pussy with my cum.”

Her walls pulsate around his throbbing cock, and she shudders at the thought. “Sorry I ruined it.”

Auston thrusts his hips. “I’m not.” He murmurs, smiling widely, he’s been waiting for this for far too long.

With a loud moan – one that makes her hope nobody is on the patio below - her lashes kiss her cheeks. Auston continues to hold her on his cock while moving his hips and nipping along her warm flesh. He pumps in and out, slowly, meticulously, and passionately, ensuring to make it last.

Another wave of heat builds steadily beneath her skin, tingling all the way down to her toes. He leans in, catching her lips in a wet kiss as he presses the base of his palm against her clit. Her body is tingling, electric currents rippling through every extremity, but Auston doesn’t deviate. He knows what comes next.  Following a few slow but deep thrusts against her already frayed nerve, Tia unravels like a spool of thread, and Auston is right there with her, coating the inside of her walls white. 

“I love you T,” Auston says, as she milks him for all he’s worth. 

“I love you too.” 

With the orange sky in the background and a few beads of sweat on her cheeks, Auston doesn’t think there is a way Tia could be more beautiful. He cups her jaw and brings in her in for a kiss. They kiss, and they kiss, and they kiss unable to pull away. Tia’s walls continue to flutter around his softening cock, but they kiss some more until their lips are puffy.

“Aus,” Tia whispers. “Promise that you’ll put your hand around my throat tomorrow.”

“Oh, baby girl,” Auston coos condescendingly. “You’ll be lucky if I wait that long.”

Taglist: If you are in this list you have expressed interest in the series (either through likes/reblogs or by asking). If it’s crossed out your tag didn’t work. If you would like to be removed or added to the list send me an ask:

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[ashwritesmonsters]

If your requests are still open, then can I get a smug buff male demon and a shy chubby female reader? Rating grapefruit. With some dubcon and an emphasis on breasts.

Shy Chubby F!Reader x Smug Buff M!Demon

Note: Hey! Thanks for your request, it was actually a lot of fun to get back into writing some good ol' smut. Not sure how active I can be on this blog right now, but if anyone is okay with waiting then send your requests please! I really do enjoy writing them when I can; I've been doing a ton of writing lately, just not this kind of stuff, so it's nice to have a reason to come back to it. Also this is really long for a request tbh, I hope that's cool.

Content: Dubcon (honestly kinda light; I can't seem to stop making things end up cute and sweet) and breast play, as requested.

"It's called 'Temple of the Body?' Really?" You asked, immediately skeptical of any gym too fancy to have the word "gym" in its name.

"Yeah, it's a good gym! It's got everything you could ever need, it just happens to be in Honeycomb," Phoebe seemed a little too defensive of her gym of choice—you could practically hear her petals bristling—but the Dryad always was eager to convince you of things. "You know how Ishtar followers tend to wax poetic about stuff like that."

"Honeycomb isn't exactly a neighborhood that's nearby, Phoebe. It's almost on the opposite side of town from me."

"You'd rather work out alone than drive an extra…" Phoebe's taps on her phone screen as she mapped the route attacked your ear. "...fifteen minutes and have me as a gym buddy?"

"No, but…" You couldn't quite explain your apprehension. Of course, going to any gym was daunting, and needing to pay for a membership didn't help.

You chewed your lip, searching for the right words to express your unease. The idea of working out in Honeycomb, a neighborhood known for its devotion to Ishtar, sent a wave of anxiety through you. That was the only part of town where you had seen a community recreational center host "naked swim days" and let people post flyers advertising weekly orgies.

"It's just... Honeycomb is a bit... woo-woo, isn't it?" You finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Phoebe's laughter sparkled through the phone. "Oh, come on! It's not like everyone's walking around naked or anything."

You winced, wanting to say "they kind of are." Honeycomb's reputation for body positivity and sensuality was well-known throughout the city. The thought of your softer curves standing out amidst a sea of chiseled abs and defined muscles made your stomach churn.

"I don't know, Phoebe. I'm not exactly... Honeycomb material." Your fingers absently plucked at the hem of your shirt, suddenly hyper-aware of the way it clung to your midsection.

"What are you talking about? Everyone starts somewhere!" Phoebe's voice softened, a hint of concern creeping in. "Is this about the whole Ishtar thing?"

You sighed, sinking deeper into your couch. "Maybe? It's just... you know how people are there. All touchy-feely and confident. I'm not sure I'd fit in."

"Hey, that's not fair. Ishtar followers aren't all about perfect bodies, you know. It's about loving yourself as you are."

Your skepticism must have traveled through the phone because Phoebe quickly added, "Look, why don't you visit on the next Tuesday—Trial Tuesday, when newbies can try it out—and see how you feel? Just because people in Honeycomb look nice and act confident doesn't mean they're douchebags. They do follow the goddess of love, after all."

You let out a long sigh, your resolve crumbling under Phoebe's enthusiastic persuasion. "Alright, alright. I'll give it a try. But just one visit, okay?"

"Yes! You won't regret it, I promise." Phoebe's excitement bubbled through the phone. "Oh, and don't forget to mention my name at the front desk. They know me there."

Your stomach twisted. "Wait, you're not coming with me?"

"Ah, about that..." Phoebe's voice took on an apologetic tone. "I've got a work thing that day. But you'll be fine! The staff there are super friendly."

Great. Now you'd be venturing into unknown territory alone. "Some gym buddy you are," you grumbled.

"You've got this," Phoebe assured you. "Text me after and tell me how it goes!"

The day of your gym visit arrived all too quickly. You stood in front of your bedroom mirror, tugging at the hem of your new workout top. The fabric clung to your curves in a way that made you both self-conscious and oddly confident. Turns out, all it takes to look like a gym goer is to put on gym clothes.

Your eyes traveled over your reflection, taking in the sight of your body wrapped in still-returnable athletic wear. The leggings hugged your thighs, accentuating their shape. You turned to the side, observing how the high-waisted band looked painted on to your stomach.

There were a couple things going through your mind; anxiety gnawed at the edges of it, whispering doubts about how you'd measure up in a gym full of the Honeycomb crowd and Ishtar followers. But beneath that, a strange note of confidence too. The outfit, despite its snugness, was incredibly comfortable, and knowing you'd be dressed the same as everyone else helped a bit.

You took a deep breath, squaring your shoulders. "It's just one visit," you reminded yourself, meeting your own gaze in the mirror. "You can do this."

Grabbing your gym bag, you headed for the door. The drive to Honeycomb seemed both endless and far too short. As you pulled into the parking lot of Temple of the Body, your heart raced. The building loomed before you, its architecture fitting in with the Honeycomb aesthetic to a tee; a stone facade covered in elaborate geometric inlays, flowering vines and planters, and—of course—nude relief sculptures of Ishtar. She didn't look like you at all.

You sit in your car for a moment, hands gripping the steering wheel. Part of you wants to turn around and drive home, but Phoebe's encouragement echoes in your mind, as does the potential nagging if you bail. With a final deep breath, you step out of the car.

The automatic doors slide open, unleashing a wave of cool air with a hint of lavender. You approach the front desk, where a smiling woman greets you; she definitely fits in with the Honeycomb crowd, her dyed blue hair and tattoos complementing her body, which definitely belonged in a gym.

"Welcome to Temple of the Body! How can I help you today?"

You swallow hard, willing your voice not to shake. "Hi, I'm here for a... a trial visit? My friend Phoebe recommended this place."

The woman's smile widens. "Oh, you're a friend of Phoebe's? Wonderful! Let me get you set up with a trial pass. Remember, there's no commitment and you can always come back next Trial Tuesday if you're still not sure."

You take a tentative step into the lobby, your eyes sweeping across the space. The interior of Temple of the Body is a far cry from the utilitarian gyms you've seen in your own part of town. Warm, earthy tones dominate the decor, with splashes of vibrant greens from potted plants scattered throughout the sandstone-like interior alongside more of those damn nude Ishtar statues.

As you peer into the main workout area, your breath catches in your throat. The first thing that strikes you is the sheer diversity of the clientele. Humans mingle with metahumans of all kinds—you spot a towering Minotaur spotting for a petite Naga on the bench press, while a group of Dryads lead a yoga class in a glass-walled room with poses that would kill you.

Your eyes are immediately drawn to the brawny. A human woman with abs you could grate cheese on effortlessly pulls herself up on a set of rings. Nearby, an Orc with biceps the size of your thighs curls a dumbbell that looks heavier than you.

But as you continue to scan the room, you spot a few bodies that look more like yours. A human man with a round, doughy build jogs on a treadmill, his face flushed but determined. In the free weights section, a literally thicker Dryad, her bark-like skin adorned with moss, performs squats with perfect form.

You watch as another group finishes up a class, laughing and chatting as they towel off and head to what is presumably the locker rooms. The camaraderie is palpable, with people of all shapes and sizes offering each other high-fives and chatting like old friends.

The receptionist gently touches your arm. "Would you like a quick tour before you start your trial session?"

You nod, still a bit conflicted. Everything you've seen so far is living up to Phoebe's promises, but the anxiety in your gut is far too resilient to be defeated this quickly.

"Great!" She looks around, eyes searching the gym floor, before finding her target and pointing at what you can only describe as a mountain of a Demon as he sits on a bench, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. "That's Zeke, one of our personal trainers. He'll tell you all about the gym and guide you through your workout today, if you'd like."

"Uh…" You stammer. Everything and everyone has been welcoming so far, but you'd be lying if you weren't a bit intimidated by Zeke. Much of his deep crimson skin is on display thanks to his scant tank top and tiny shorts, crowned by a pair of curling onyx horns.

The receptionist notices your hesitation and gives you a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Zeke may look intimidating, but he's a sweetheart. He's Phoebe’s trainer, and actually our most popular one for newcomers."

Before you can protest, she calls out, "Hey Zeke! Got a new member here who could use a tour."

The massive Demon's head snaps up at the sound of his name, and a broad grin spreads across his face as he spots you. He stands, his impressive height becoming even more apparent as he makes his way over.

"Hey there! I'm Zzikaerax, but you can just call me Zeke," he says, his voice a deep rumble that you can almost feel in your chest. "Welcome to Temple of the Body!"

You introduce yourself, your voice sounding small in comparison. Zeke's presence is overwhelming, not just because of his size, but because of the sheer energy he exudes. His crimson skin seems to radiate warmth, and his onyx horns gleam under the gym's lights.

"First time here, huh?" Zeke asks, leaning in close. You catch a whiff of something spicy and intoxicating. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of you."

The receptionist chimes in, "Zeke's a lust Demon, but don't let that worry you. He's all about helping people feel good about themselves and their bodies."

Zeke nods enthusiastically. "That's right! Nothing makes me happier than seeing someone fall in love with fitness and their own body. Sweat is just foreplay for success, as I always say."

As he speaks, Zeke places a large hand on your shoulder, guiding you towards the gym floor. His touch is warm, almost hot, and you're not sure if it's because of his demonic nature or if it's just your own nervousness causing you to fixate on the contact.

"So, what are your fitness goals?" Zeke asks, his face inches from yours as he leans down to hear your response. "Strength? Flexibility? Or maybe you just want to feel more confident?"

You stammer out a vague answer about generally just getting your heart rate up, acutely aware of how close Zeke is standing. Is this normal in Honeycomb? You know that followers of Ishtar tend to be more physically affectionate, but you can't help the way your body reacts.

As you walk through the gym, Zeke's hand remains on your shoulder, occasionally sliding down to the small of your back as he guides you around equipment. His touch is gentle but firm, and you find yourself unsure whether to lean into it or step away.

"And over here we have our cardio section," Zeke says, gesturing with his free hand, "the second best way to get your heart rate up." He winks at you, and you feel a flush creep up your neck.

As Zeke guides you onto the gym floor, your heart races, and not just from anticipation of the workout. His massive hand rests on the small of your back, warm and impossibly large against your skin.

"Let's start with some basic stretches," he rumbles, his voice low and intimate. "Gotta make sure you're nice and limber."

You nod, not trusting your voice. Zeke positions himself behind you, his presence looming large.

"Arms up, reach for the sky," he instructs. As you comply, his hands ghost along your sides, ostensibly to check your form. "Good, now bend forward, try to touch your toes."

You lean down, feeling exposed. Zeke's hands slide down your back, fingertips tracing your spine. "Breathe deep," he murmurs, so close you can feel his breath on your neck.

With each new stretch, Zeke's touch lingers longer, grows bolder. He guides your hips into position for a lunge, fingers splayed across your waist. When you rotate your torso, his palm presses flat against your stomach, steadying you.

"How's that feel?" he asks, voice husky.

"Good," you manage to squeak out, unsure if you're referring to the stretch or his touch.

Zeke moves to face you, demonstrating a shoulder roll. "Like this," he says, reaching out to manipulate your arms. His fingers trail down to your wrists, circling them gently before releasing.

You can't ignore the heat radiating from his skin, the way his eyes seem to drink you in. Is this normal for a trainer? For a lust Demon? For Honeycomb?

"Last one," Zeke announces, moving behind you once more. "We'll do a standing backbend. Don't worry, I've got you."

His massive hands span your ribcage as you lean back, trusting him to support your weight. You feel the solid wall of muscle against your back, his breath hot on your ear.

"That's it," he encourages, "just relax into it."

You hold the position, hyper-aware of every point of contact between your bodies. Zeke's thumbs rub small circles on your sides, a gesture that feels more intimate than instructional.

As he helps you straighten up, his hands linger, sliding around to your stomach. You stand there, pressed against him, breath coming quick and shallow.

"How do you feel now?" Zeke asks, his voice a low purr.

You swallow hard, mind reeling. The warmth of his touch, the spicy scent of his skin, the raw energy emanating from him – it's all too much, too intense. And yet, you can't bring yourself to step away. Probably because you're so dedicated to this workout, right?

"Um… good," you admit, though 'good' at best is a lie of omission.

"Good!" Zeke gently claps the small of your back, sending more shivers up your spine. "Stretching is important to do before any exercise, whether it's a session at the gym or something more impromptu."

Zeke steps back, giving you space to breathe, to think. His smile is warm, inviting, as he moves into an open area of the gym. "Let's start with some basic strength exercises," he says, beckoning you to follow.

You mirror his stance as he demonstrates a squat, feet planted firmly on the ground, shoulders back. His muscles shift beneath his tank top, a mesmerizing display of controlled power. You try to focus on his form, on the way his knees bend and his hips hinge, but your eyes are drawn to the expanse of crimson skin stretching over hard muscle, the way his shorts cling to his thighs, barely containing the thick outline of his cock.

"Like this," he encourages, dropping into a deep squat. You mimic him, feeling the burn in your thighs, the stretch in your glutes. His eyes are on you, watching, assessing. You flush under his gaze, a mix of exertion and something else, something hot pooling in your stomach.

"Good," he praises, standing up. "Now, lunges."

He demonstrates the movement, one leg stretched out behind him, the other bent at the knee. His shorts ride up, revealing more of his thigh, the curve of his ass. You swallow hard, tearing your eyes away to focus on your own form.

You lunge forward, wobbling slightly. Zeke's hands are there instantly, steadying you. His touch is hot, searing through the thin fabric of your leggings. "Easy," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. "Take your time. It's not a race."

You nod, trying to ignore the heat of his hands, the way your heart is pounding in your chest. You lunge again, slower this time, more controlled. Zeke's hands follow you, guiding you, supporting you.

"That's it," he says, his voice like velvet. "You're doing great."

You can feel the sweat trickling down your spine, the flush in your cheeks. Zeke's eyes are on you, intense, focused. You can't look away, can't break the connection. There's something in his gaze, something hungry.

He steps closer, his hands still on your waist. You can feel the heat radiating off him, the spicy scent of his skin filling your nostrils. "You're strong," he says, his voice a low growl. "You just need to believe it."

You stand there, frozen, heart pounding. Zeke's hands slide around to your back, pulling you closer. You can feel the hard planes of his chest against yours, the thickness of his barely-contained cock pressed against your stomach.

"Zeke," you whisper, your voice barely audible. You're not sure if it's a protest or a plea.

He leans down, his breath hot on your ear. "Yes?"

Your hands are on his chest, his heart thudding under your palm. You can feel the power in him, the raw, untamed energy. It's frightening. Intoxicating. You're not sure what you want, what you're doing. But you're pretty sure you don't want him to stop.

"I...I don't know what I'm doing," you admit, your voice a whisper.

Zeke's lips curl into a smile, his eyes never leaving yours. "That's okay," he says, his voice a low purr. "I do."

His hands slide down to cup your ass, pulling you against him. You gasp, your eyes widening. He chuckles, a low, throaty sound that sends shivers down your spine. "Trust me," he says, his voice a soft growl.

And you do. You trust him, even though you barely know him. Even though he's a lust Demon, even though you're in the middle of a gym, even though this is all happening too fast. You trust him, because somehow, inexplicably, it feels right.

His lips brush against yours, a soft, gentle touch that sends sparks shooting through your veins. You melt into him, your hands sliding up to his shoulders, your fingers tangling in his horns. He groans, a low, hungry sound that sends a hot shiver coursing through you.

You're vaguely aware of the other people in the gym, of the clank of weights and the hum of conversation. But it all fades away, lost in the heat of Zeke's kiss, the feel of his hands on your body, the press of his cock against you.

He breaks the kiss, your breath coming in ragged gasps. His eyes are like molten lava, hot and hungry. "You're doing amazing for a newbie," he growls, his voice a low rumble.

You can't speak, can't think. You look around, and nobody seems to be paying you any notice. All you can do is feel. Feel the heat of his body, the strength of his arms, the hardness of his cock. Is this sort of thing normal here? Is rutting your cock against someone the Honeycomb way of saying hello? Do the people around you just think Zeke is your boyfriend or something?

Zeke's hands slide under your top, his fingers tracing the curves of your body. You shiver, your breath hitching in your throat. His touch is like fire, burning away all your doubts, all your fears. Still, nobody is looking at you two. Not like you would be able to care right now, anyway.

"Zeke," you gasp, definitely a plea this time.

He smiles, a slow, wicked curve of his lips. "Yes?"

You can't answer, can't find the words. But you don't need to. Zeke knows what you want, what you need. And he's more than willing to give it to you.

His hands slide up, cupping your breasts through your sports bra. You arch into his touch, a moan escaping your lips. He chuckles, his thumbs circling your nipples, plucking a gasp from your lips.

"So…" he rumbles, lowering his hands and resting them on your hips, "we could stay out here, do some more core exercises… or we could take this somewhere else."

"Somewhere else?" You manage to get out. Zeke's eyes finally lose their lock on you, and you follow his gaze to a doorway towards the back of the gym.

You follow Zeke's gaze to the doorway at the back of the gym that you saw the class exit through earlier. He leads you towards it, his hand still resting on your hip, fingers tracing small circles that send shivers up your spine. The doorway is unassuming, blending into the wall, but as you step through, your breath catches. It leads to the locker room—just one.

The room is vast, tiled in shades of blue and green, with lockers lining one wall and showers along the other. Steam fills the air, and the scent of soap and something more primal hangs heavy. In the center, there are benches, mats, and towels scattered about. And people. Humans and metahumans in various states of undress, some showering, some intertwined with others, touching and moaning with satisfied pleasure.

Your eyes widen, taking it all in. Zeke's lips curl into a smirk as he watches your reaction. "Welcome to the real Temple of the Body," he rumbles, his voice echoing off the tiles. "This is why our members keep coming back."

He guides you further inside, his hand sliding from your hip to the small of your back. You can't help but stare. A Naga, her scales shimmering under the water, is entwined with a human in one of the shower stalls. On a mat, a Minotaur, his gold septum ring glinting, kneels behind a Dryad, his hands exploring her bark-like skin as his massive cock grows from soft and drooping to hard and leaking.

"Zeke, what..." you start, but his finger presses against your lips, silencing you.

"Shh, no judgments here," he says, his eyes never leaving yours. "This is a reward for working hard, for improving yourself every day."

He steers you to an empty bench, his hands on your shoulders, gentle but firm, pushing you down. You sit, the tile cold against your thighs. Zeke stands over you, his crimson skin a stark contrast to the pale blue of the locker room.

"You're curious," he says, his voice low, commanding. "I can see it in your eyes. You're shy but you want to be just like them."

You swallow hard, unsure how to defend yourself against an accusation so true. Zeke takes your silence as consent, dropping to his knees in front of you. His hands grip your thighs, spreading them apart, making room for him. Looking between his horns, the Minotaur from earlier has the Dryad speared on his cock, bouncing her on his lap as she cries out.

"Let's start slow," he growls, his eyes locked onto yours. His hands slide up your thighs, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your leggings. He tugs, and you lift your hips, allowing him to pull them off. The tepid, humid air hits your skin, sending goosebumps racing up your legs.

Zeke's hands roam, cupping your calves, kneading your thighs. His touch is firm, possessive. He leans in, his breath hot on your inner thigh. "You smell delicious," he murmurs, his voice vibrating against your skin.

Your heart hammers in your chest as his hands move higher, gripping your hips, thumbs digging into your flesh. His eyes are fixed on your breasts, heaving with each ragged breath. He licks his lips, a hungry, primal gesture that sends a surge of heat through you.

"Look at you," he growls. "So soft." His hands move up, cupping your breasts through your sports bra. You gasp as his thumbs find your nipples, circling, teasing. The fabric is thin—too thin to even tell it’s there.

You squirm under his gaze, his touch. It's too much, too intense. But Zeke holds you firm, his hands demanding, his eyes commanding. "Don't move," he orders, his voice harsh. "Let me explore you."

His hands move to your back, unhooking your bra with a swift, practiced motion. He pulls it off, baring you to his gaze. You shiver, resisting the urge to cover yourself. Zeke's eyes drink you in, his pupils dilating.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he rasps, his hands cupping your breasts, lifting them, squeezing them. His touch is rough, just shy of painful, but it sends jolts of pleasure coursing through you.

He leans in, his tongue flicking out, teasing your nipple. You gasp, arching into the warmth of his licks. He chuckles, a low, throaty sound. "Sensitive, aren't you?" he murmurs, before taking your nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.

You cry out, your hands finding their way to his horns, gripping them tightly. Zeke groans, the sound vibrating against your skin. He pulls back, his eyes meeting yours. "You like that?" he asks, his voice a low rumble. "You like it rough?"

You nod, breathless, unable to speak. Zeke's lips curl into a wicked smile. "Good," he says, his hands gripping your breasts, squeezing and kneading them. "Because I like it rough too."

His mouth finds your other nipple, biting, sucking, as his hands continue to explore your body. You're lost in a sea of sensation, drowning in the feel of his hands, his mouth, his body pressed against yours.

Zeke's hands slide down, gripping your hips, digging into your flesh. He pulls you to the edge of the bench, pressing his body between your thighs. You can feel the hard length of him, the heat of him, even through his shorts.

He grinds against you, his mouth finding yours, kissing you deeply. His tongue invades your mouth, claiming you. You moan into his kiss, your hands still gripping his horns, holding on for dear life.

Zeke pulls back, his breath ragged, his eyes wild. "Fuck, you're driving me crazy," he growls. "I want to taste you."

His hands move to your thighs, spreading them wider. You're exposed, vulnerable, but you trust him. You want this. You need this.

Zeke leans in, his breath hot on your core. You tremble, anticipating his touch. But he hesitates, his eyes meeting yours. "Is this okay?" he asks, his voice surprisingly gentle for a moment.

You nod, breathless. "Yes," you manage to gasp out. "Please."

The gentleness disappears. Zeke's hands grip your thighs, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. His breath is hot on your skin, sending shivers up your spine. You can feel his hunger, his desire, in every touch, every movement. His long, forked tongue flicks out, rough against your clit, and your legs shake in response. A gasp escapes your lips, your hands grasping at the bench, searching for something to ground you.

Zeke's tongue works magic on your flesh, each stroke sending jolts of pleasure coursing through you. You can't help but squirm under his touch, your hips bucking against his mouth. He chuckles, a low, throaty sound that vibrates against your skin. "Eager, aren't you?" he murmurs, his eyes gleaming with amusement and desire.

You flush, a mix of embarrassment and arousal heating your cheeks. Zeke's smirk widens, his tongue circling your clit with a teasing slowness. "Don't fight it," he growls, his hands sliding up to grip your hips, holding you firmly in place. "Let go. Submit to it."

Your breath hitches in your throat, your body tensing as his tongue flicks against you, relentless and demanding. The pressure builds, coiling and ready to snap. You can feel the eyes of the others on you, watching, waiting. It's overwhelming, intoxicating, pushing you closer to the edge.

Zeke senses your hesitation, your resistance. He pulls back, his eyes meeting yours, intense and commanding. "Look at them," he orders, his voice harsh. "They're all watching you, wanting you. They can see how much you need this, how much you want it."

You do as he says, your gaze flicking around the room. A Naga's eyes are locked onto you, her hand moving faster and faster over her slit, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The Minotaur has turned to watch you, his cock hard and dripping as it presses against the Dryad's ass. She looks at you too, her eyes eager as she takes a break from the Minotaur's pounding.

"See?" Zeke murmurs, his breath hot on your skin. "We're all the same, really. Even your Dryad friend loves bouncing on my cock after a run on the treadmill."

His words break down the last of your resistance. You let go, surrendering to the sensation, to the desire. Your body tenses, your muscles clenching tightly, and then you're falling, tumbling over the edge into a sea of pleasure.

Zeke's tongue never stops, never relents, drawing out your orgasm, wringing every last drop of pleasure from your body. You cry out, your voice echoing off the tiled walls, joining the rest of the searing hot orgasms around you. Your body shakes, your legs trembling, your hands gripping the bench so tightly your knuckles turn white.

As the waves of pleasure subside, you collapse back onto the bench, your body limp and sated. Zeke lifts his head, his lips glistening with your juices, a smug smile on his face. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Good girl," he praises, his voice a low purr. "You did so well."

You can't speak, can't form words. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your heart pounding in your chest. Zeke stands, his body towering over you, his cock hard and straining against his shorts. He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear.

"But we're not done yet," he rumbles, his voice dark. "Not until I've had my fun with these."

Zeke's hands claim your breasts again, his fingers splayed possessively over their softness. He seems entranced, his gaze locked onto the generous curves, his thumbs tracing the delicate line of your collarbone before dipping down to circle your nipples. You can't ignore the raw hunger in his eyes, the unapologetic want that has him captivated.

"Fuck, I could get lost in these things,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that resonates through you. His hands are rough, kneading and squeezing, as if he can't get enough of the feel of you. You gasp as his fingers pinch your nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure-pain coursing through you.

He releases you, only to hook his thumbs into the waistband of his tiny shorts. With a swift, confident motion, he pulls them down, revealing his cock. It springs free, thick and hard, the tip glistening with precum. You stare, your heart pounding in your chest. It's intimidating, the size of it, the thickness, the weight. Not to mention the heavy balls hanging beneath, full with his lust.

Zeke chuckles, a sound like distant thunder, as he sees your expression. "Don't worry," he says, his voice a soothing growl. "I'm don't feel like pussy right now." He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. "I want to fuck these lovely, heavy breasts first. I want to slide my cock between them until I paint your face."

His words send a shiver down your spine, a mix of relief and anticipation. You look up at him, your eyes wide, your lips slightly parted. Zeke smiles, a slow, wicked curve of his lips. He straddles the bench, his powerful thighs framing your body, his cock jutting out proudly.

"Come here," he orders, his voice gentle yet commanding. He guides your hands to your breasts, encouraging you to cup them, to lift them to meet him. You do as he says, your fingers sinking into the soft flesh, your heart racing. Zeke groans, his eyes darkening as he watches you. "Fuck, that's hot," he murmurs. "Always wanted to do this."

He shifts closer, his cock resting heavy and hot on your breasts. You look down at it, a bead of precum dripping onto your skin, marking you. Zeke's hands cover yours, squeezing, molding your breasts around his cock. He starts to move, a slow, steady thrust that sends his cock sliding through the valley of your breasts.

The sensation is strangely gratifying. The heat of him, the hardness, the wetness of his precum slicking the way. You look up at Zeke, his face a mask of concentration and pleasure, his horns casting dramatic shadows on the wall behind him. His breath comes in ragged gasps, his body tensing with each thrust.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," he growls, his eyes locked onto yours. "Your skin, your softness... it's driving me crazy."

You can't look away, can't break the connection. You're entranced, caught up in the raw, primal rhythm of his body. Your hands surrender to his commands, squeezing your breasts tighter around him, creating more friction, more pleasure.

Zeke's thrusts become faster, more urgent. His breath hitches, his body tenses. He's close, you can feel it. You can see it in the wildness of his eyes, the strain of his muscles. His cock swells, the tip turning a deep, angry red.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he grunts, his voice barely more than a growl. His hands move to your face, cupping your cheeks, his thumbs tracing your lips. "I want to paint your face with my cum. Get ready!"

Your heart pounds in your chest, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. You're nervous, excited, aroused—too many things all at once. But you trust him. You want this. You want to feel him, to feel the heat of his seed on your skin.

Zeke's body goes rigid, a roar ripping through his throat. His cock pulses, hot streams of cum shooting out, painting your breasts, your chest, your face. It's dirty, it's raw, it's intimate. You gasp, your body trembling as you feel the heat of him, the possessiveness of his mark.

His breath slows, his body relaxing. He looks down at you, a satisfied smirk on his face. "Fuck, you look good like this," he murmurs, his thumb smearing a drop of cum across your cheek.

You can't speak, can't form words. Your body is still trembling, your mind still reeling. Zeke leans down, licking some of himself off you before his lips brush against yours in a soft, gentle kiss.

He pulls back, his eyes searching yours. "You okay?" he asks, his voice soft, the gentleness from earlier returning.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. "Yes," you manage to whisper. "I'm okay."

Zeke smiles back, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. "Good," he says, his voice a low rumble. "Let's get you cleaned up, then."

Zeke stands, offering you his hand. You take it, your legs still shaky, and he leads you towards the showers. The room is filled with steam, the sound of water hitting tile echoing off the walls. You pass by a Succubus, her midnight blue skin glistening as she moves under the spray, her hands braced against the wall as a Satyr fucks her from behind. She hisses in pleasure, her spade-tipped tail coiling around his leg, pulling him deeper.

You look away, a blush heating your cheeks. Zeke chuckles, squeezing your hand. "Don't be shy, babe. Everyone's just enjoying themselves here."

He leads you to an empty showerhead, turning the knob until water cascades down. He tests the temperature, adjusting it until he's satisfied. Then he turns to you, his hands on your shoulders, guiding you under the spray.

The water is hot, soothing your muscles, washing away the sweat and cum from your skin. You close your eyes, tilting your head back, letting the water run over your face. Zeke's hands are gentle as he lathers soap onto a towel, washing you with careful, deliberate movements.

"You did good out there," he says, his voice a low rumble. "Pushed yourself. That's what this place is about. Pushing limits, finding boundaries."

You open your eyes, looking up at him. His horns are dark against the bright tile, his eyes intent on his task. He's being gentle, caring, but there's still that self-assured smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. It's like this was his plan from the beginning; while you were losing control, feverish and horny, this was just another day at work for him.

"It's weird," you admit, your voice soft. "Being here, doing... this. It's not what I expected."

Zeke laughs, a deep, throaty sound. "That's the point, babe. Expect the unexpected. That's where growth happens."

He runs the washrag over your breasts, your stomach, between your legs. His touch is clinical, but there's an intimacy to it that sends a warm flush through you. He's taking care of you, in his own way.

Next to you, the Succubus cries out, her body writhing as she comes. The Satyr grunts, his hands gripping her hips as he finds his own release. You watch, your breath hitching, as they slow, their bodies still joined.

Zeke follows your gaze, a small smile on his face. "See? Everyone's just here to feel good. Nothing to be embarrassed about."

He turns you around, washing your back, your ass. His hands are firm, confident. You can feel his cock, hard again, pressing against your hip. But he makes no move to take things further, content to just wash you, touch you.

"You're tense," he says, his thumbs digging into the muscles of your shoulders. "Relax. Cooling down is just as important as warming up."

You take a deep breath, trying to let the tension go. Zeke's hands move to your neck, your scalp, massaging gently. It feels good, too good. You can feel yourself melting under his touch, your body leaning into his.

"That's it," he murmurs, his voice approving. "Just let go."

He turns you back around, rinsing the soap from your body. His eyes meet yours, his expression soft. "You're strong, you know that? Stronger than you think."

You shake your head, a small smile on your face. "I'm not strong. I'm... I'm just me."

Zeke's hands cup your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks. "You can be both."

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. It's gentle, chaste, a surprising contrast to his earlier roughness. You kiss him back, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

When he pulls back, his eyes are soft, warm. "Feel better?" he asks.

You nod, a sense of contentment washing over you. "Yes. Thank you."

He grins, his smugness returning. "Told you I'd take good care of you."

He turns off the water, grabbing a towel from a nearby shelf. He wraps it around you, his hands rubbing your arms, warming you. You step out of the shower, your eyes sweeping over the room.

The Minotaur and the Dryad are gone, their shower empty. The Naga and the Satyr are cleaning up, their bodies slick with soap, their movements languid, sated. You watch them, a sense of peace settling over you.

–––

You grip the steering wheel tightly, knuckles still flushed from the shower's heat and Zeke's touch. The city lights blur past as you drive home, the rumble of the engine echoing your pulsing heart. With a trembling hand, you dial Phoebe.

"Phoebe," you say, voice tight, "you could've warned me about the gym. And Zeke. And the locker room… and everything else!"

A soft laugh echoes through the line. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I thought you'd find it exciting. A little adventure."

"Adventure?" You scoff, but your voice lacks real anger. "Phoebe, it was an orgy. And Zeke... he was..." You trail off, remembering his hands, his tongue, his commands.

"He was what?" Phoebe asks, her voice laced with amusement.

You sigh, admitting, "He was intense. And I... I bought a membership."

Phoebe laughs again, a sound like leaves rustling. "I knew you'd like it. Zeke has that effect on people."

"You could've told me," you grumble, but there's no heat in your words. You find yourself curious, eager even. "You know, told me anything at all."

Phoebe hesitates, then begins, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Told you what? That he loves fucking me after a run? That he says he loves how my body moves, how my vines pulse with magic when I come."

You swallow hard, your body already heating at the image. "Okay, first, TMI. Second… your vines… do they really do that?"

"Mm-hmm," Phoebe hums. "It's like every nerve ending is on fire. He likes to run his tongue along them, make me shake and shiver."

You shift in your seat, your body aching at the mental image. "Goodness." A small gasp escapes your lips.

"You okay?" Phoebe asks, concern in her voice.

"Fine," you breathe. "Just... remembering."

Phoebe laughs softly. "Good memories, I hope. Did he stick it in you on your first day?"

"No, and I'm glad he didn't, honestly," you chuckle, a nervous reaction to the heat rushing to your cheeks. "Um, Phoebe, I should go. I'm almost home."

"Alright, girl," she says, her voice warm. "But don't think you're getting off that easy. We're having coffee tomorrow, and you're telling me everything."

You laugh, a mix of embarrassment and excitement bubbling up. "Fine, fine. But you're buying."

"Deal," Phoebe agrees. "Get some rest, you'll need it for your next session."

Pulling into your parking spot, you kill the engine and sit for a moment. Your body aches in places you didn't know could ache, but there's a satisfaction underneath it all. A sense of accomplishment, of pushing your boundaries.

You make your way inside, dropping your gym bag by the door. In your bedroom, you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. You look... different. Flushed, alive, and a little bit of something else in your posture. You smile at your reflection, remembering Zeke's words. "You can be both."

[bookwyrminspiration]

KOTLC Graphic Novel: B&N Virtual Event Summary

There are no spoilers

Shannon Messenger was accompanied by Stuart Gibbs, author of Spy School and other series, who asked the questions

Enjoy!

Event's theme was Iggy Celebration--Shannon chose to wear dark blue, as it's secretly her favorite Iggy

It's officially called Dark Blue Iggy in the books, but the actual color nomination from fans was "tardis blue". She couldn't use that for potential legal issues, but she knows it's actually Tardis blue, making it her favorite

Shannon can't take credit for Iggy's changing color

She'd made him pink in book 2, and so a fan at an event asked her what color he'd be in the next book

Shannon asked her what color she wanted him to be. This fan, dressed in head to toe purple, leaned in and very seriously said "Orange." So Iggy was orange

Opened it to fans after that--but sadly never got the name of that one fan to thank her properly ("Whoever you are girl in purple, thank you!")

Book 10 doesn't have an official release date because Shannon's still writing it (as fast as she can!)

Iggy's color options for Book 10 are still undecided as well

Shannon thanks everyone immensely for their patience; "it's my focus! I want to get to them as fast as possible," but she also wants the book to be good and worth the wait

"Naive Shannon thought the later I got into the series the easier the books would be to write. WRONG!"

she has so many planted seeds to keep track of and constantly feels the pressure to one up her previous books

"I kinda wish I'd set the bar a little lower from the beginning"

She can't make a perfect book; there's always going to be someone who doesn't like something

She's reached the point of realizing her plans, and it's a delicate balance. You don't want reveals to feel like they came completely out of left field, but also don't want them to be like "I guessed that six books ago"

Finding the balance between feeling earned and still surprising is a daunting task ahead of her; it's more labor intensive than she thought it'd be

Stuart Gibbs points out that even if it takes a while, Shannon gives us a lot of book per book, so it's worth it

Shannon never intended to write such long books; she used to say every time that the next one she'd get the hang of being concise and it would be shorter, but everyone stopped believing her by book four

Was a graphic novel adaptation ever part of her plans? Secretly yes--she started as an art major and loves seeing illustrated versions of her characters. The highlight of her year is the cover art, and graphic novels are entire books!

It was on her author bucket-list, but she wasn't sure it'd would be possible; some books just don't work as graphic novels and they're expensive for publishers

When she found out she got the adaptation she "did a happy dance I was very grateful no one could see"

How involved were you in this process? Very involved, since her publishers know she has an art background

They let her pick from writers who auditioned--she wasn't sure that was a great idea because she didn't know if she could be objective; "no, I wrote it this way because it needs to be this way!"

Celina "knocked it out of the park" with her audition

For Gabriella, the artist, she was exactly what Shannon was looking for; she wanted a new style--Jason Chan (the cover artist) is incredible, but she wanted the GN to be distinct and more illustrated

She describes the GN as "like Disney meets manga," cartoonish but not

Shannon gave notes on rough drafts, inked pages, and colored versions--she's sure they got sick of her notes by the end of it

She remembers thinking "certain Keefe jokes MUST make it in," but then seeing them in the visual format they realized "huh, this joke isn't funny anymore"

Anything that surprised you about the process? Definitely some of those Keefe jokes not working, but also the fact they had to split it. At first she thought they could work it all into one, but emotion takes longer to convey visually, and they were "robbing the heart out of the book" by trying to fit it in one

Shannon jokes everything she writes ends up longer than they expect

Do you have any idea about part two? It's in the works, but it's a herculean task for the artists, so it all depends on them; "do not blame them at all! this is a daunting, daunting, massive work load"

Shannon owes Gabriella "all the cookies ever"

it's a very tight timeline, so they'll share the release date when they have it, but for now just let the artist do their thing

Was it weird to spend so much time with book 1 again? Forget anything? Want to change anything? There were some sentences she wanted to rewrite--"a book is never done, it's just due"

Thought about adding Gisela in book one, since she wishes she'd introduced her then; she always knew she'd play a huge role, but thought it'd be more clever to not introduce her until she was ready to bring her into play.

Now she disagrees with that decision and wishes she'd been there from book one, but decided that "it's not bad the way she did it, but it would've been more elegant" so she didn't change it

Does Gibbs have anything he would change about his book? He says you don't always know which characters will catch on, some some that become important he wishes he spent more time with in the beginning--"if I'd done this in book one, I couldn't done this in book 7!"

Any movie news? Hollywood is so much hurry up and wait, a ladder with thousands of rungs; they got caught at the script stage when the writer's strike happened, and even though the strike ended that doesn't mean the gears start turning again immediately.

the script is the most important thing, especially since KOTLC would be a very expensive movie, so the more solid the foundation the better the chance they have of getting greenlit

Her fingers are crossed; she wants a movie/show, but she wants it to be a good movie/show

Fans often don't realize how much work it is and how out of the author's hands it is

Reader questions! (name spellings are to the best of my ability)

Celiana: what advice do you have for young authors? Focus on writing and enjoying that part of the process before publishing! Publishing is stressful and complicated

Shannon throws the question to Gibbs. He says a lot of the times fans tell them they don't like their writing, it's their first draft. "Well that would be the problem."

Very few people hit it out of the park on their first try. Editing is a super important part of the process!

Shannon writers her books weird (editing intensely as she goes because she's always behind on deadlines, and hopes to go back to normal one day), but before that she'd have 2 or 3 drafts each. Book 1 was draft 20, Exile was draft 3, Everblaze was 2.

Gibbs does about 10 drafts each (though admits his outlines process isn't nearly as rigorous as Shannon's)

Shannon reached a point where she said "I don't think I'm smart enough to do this alone anymore!" Her books are like houses of cards, and she simply doesn't have time for the drafts to fall apart

She and her team frequently painstakingly plan things out--and even then sometimes have to scrap things. Remember that scene we rigorously went through last week? "it's not working! Now what?"

Mary Claire: Was it hard for you to find a publisher? Yes. First she got an agent, as that's important when traditionally publishing. She got her at draft 13--said that while she loved the book and its idea, you could tell this was Shannon's first book.

They went through a few edits and thought draft 15 was the one, but she got LOTS of rejections

her confidence was shaken, and draft 16 turned into a mess

At draft 18 it was sold, and then they went through 2 more versions with an actual editor; "so so much rewriting..."

Gibbs tried to get published as a kid, but was rejected throughout all of his schooling, so "to heck with this! I'm going to Hollywood to write movies"...which was actually pretty similar

he came back to writing 15.5 years ago during the last writers strike--"hey maybe I should try this book thing again"

They don't share their experiences to scare you; it's worth it, but you have to love writing to be an author given how much work and rejection it is

That's why Shannon says to enjoy the writing stage as long as you can; you need to fall in love with writing and with your story and truly believe in it

Were you always reading as a kid? Writing stories? When did you decide to write a book? Shannon was very focused on art as a kid and wanted to be a Disney animator, but her art doesn't work for that; she can't draw what's in her head, she can only copy, which "makes me about as useful as a camera"

She thought she could learn the skill, but couldn't in art classes; she realized she was always going to be frustrated if she kept at it

She'd started college at 16 and now her life plan was falling to pieces, so her mom advised her to take a class for fun

it was a film class, since she thought she'd be able to watch TV for school

she was, but her teacher also encouraged her to go to film school since she could finally bring things out properly on the page how they were in her head

"You have a lot to learn, but I see something in you." "Cool, I'm a film major now. Answered!"

Turns out film is too collaborative for her and she wanted more control; "there's those book things, I guess I could try those."

She doesn't regret the journey

Addie: How do you et the ideas to write? Shannon wishes she had a tree that sprouted money and great ideas, but really ideas are everywhere and it's a matter of paying attention.

You don't need your whole idea all at once--can be small like "I wonder if that hat...wasn't a hat at all!"

She knew she wanted to work with elves, and she knew she wanted to strip the magic from the story in favor of sci-fi/superhero logistics. The rest came bit by bit

Some days she couldn't write fast enough, others it was "oo, what if they wore capes?"

Elizabeth: what do you do when you have writers' block? Shannon doesn't like to call it that because that makes it seem scarier than it is; to her it's just being stuck, and she plays the "what if?" game

What if I got rid of the previous scene? What if they went here instead? What if, what if, what if? Open yourself to new possibilities

Gibbs is a big going for a walk person for when you're stuck. We all get stuck, not just young writers. he also likes hiking--walking but not coming back for a while.

At this point a poll was sent to the audience asking them to choose between 5 pairs. Bolded won with percentage included afterwards

Teleporting or light leaping? (63%). Eternalia or Mysterium? (63%). Bathe a T-Rex or Pet a Verminion? (55%). Telepath or Empath? (62%). Cape or No Cape? (60%)

Shannon's surprised the Keefe fans didn't pull through with the Empath vote

No matter what Shannon writes, someone's going to be unhappy, so she started pulling back on appealing to fans and prioritizes what fits the story

Marissa: Will Iggy ever go back to grey? That's up to the readers! Shannon leaves it completely in our hands, so if we ever nominate and vote for grey, she'll write it.

Shannon thanks everyone for reading and being patient, as she's writing as fast as she can

When a book is released she usually celebrates with a dessert; she ordered a bunch of fall flavor donuts from Krispy Kreme today, so she's not sure if she'll save one for tomorrow or get something new

It's dangerous that she can just push a button and donuts will show up at her house (doordash)

Gibbs and Shannon hope everyone love the graphic novel as much as they do--and stay tuned for part 2!

[wetcatspellcaster]

In a very weird, but sweet way I feel like the Ascendent still lives on some how in Astarion. Not in a way that would make him a threat to fully come back out but I feel like his experience of the last decade and his love for Rosalie (even if it wasn’t healthy) shines through and he’s finally able to have the feelings again that have been impossible to have. I don’t know if that makes sense, but I like to think that he finally felt peace before being Wished out.

hey anon!

that's not weird, I entirely agree. the whole point of 'little love' being reclaimed in Chapter 26 - and the fact that I didn't have Wish undo Ascendency or turn him human, etc. - was that I wanted to have an ending to Pieces that combined both game endings. Bc I am god's specialest princess, and if I'm not going to give myself the exact story I want to consume, who is?

I don't think the Ascendent felt peace before being Wished out - he felt a lot of fear, in fact. But... that's kinda intentional. The Ascendent feared being entirely erased, which is why he never put his own soul into his own body - like Rose says: his problem was simple to resolve, if it wasn't for the level of fear involved. That's because the Ascendent is Astarion's survival instincts and trauma responses walking around and talking. Of course he wouldn't want to fix the problem, bc then he wouldn't need to exist anymore. Astarion wouldn't need those instincts. The trauma is resolved, thus the Ascendent *was* erased.

But on the flip side... for me, the actual truth of this kind of situation is, that letting go of your fight or flight after a period of recovery doesn't mean that part of you goes away. You carry it forward into everything you do. And that means you are correct, anon: the Ascendent 'died', but Astarion does in fact have part of him there with him.

Idk man, not to make everything I write about depression or anxiety or anything, but I remember when I got out of rock bottom, this new daunting arena of possibility opened up of: what will I be next? "Now I'm recovered, I have to make new goals for myself, and I have to decide what those are going to be." And I chose to give that dilemma and that decision paralysis to something that's literally scared to be anything other than what it is. I described the Ascendent multiple times as stagnant, frozen, etc... bc change is fucking scary, I made a monster that is literally incapable of it.

I view Astarion's personal quest as a choice between either getting locked into a cycle of trauma, or doing the scary thing to break free, even if what comes next isn't perfect and you have no guarantee it ever will be. The fact that in Pieces, Astarion didn't break free the first time that choice was offered, makes it harder for him to try a second time. The barriers feel even higher and even more impossible. Does that resonate with anyone who backslid after a period of depression, or didn't make it out the first time? Or is that just me?

anyway that's a bit of a ramble, but yea, he's both! If he was just spawn!Astarion characterisation by chapter 20 onwards, um... they'd have fucked so much quicker, i stg :')

[sassydefendorflower]

for the reverse tropes - I would love to see some bat related nursing home au, that just sounds amazing lol

"If you steal my favorite checkers game one more time, Hood, I will personally make sure the staff finds your switchblades."

Dick "Nightwing" Grayson leaned back in the most comfortable armchair in the common room of the Batmania Nursing Home in Gotham City. Across the table sat Jason Todd, often referred to as Red Hood, since - according to his own fairy tales - he used to be a feared gangster, back before the second hip replacement and the accident on the ice skating rink.

"As if. Nobody's afraid of you, twinkletoes. Just because you used to do gymnastics... doesn't mean jackshit now." Jason pointed the cane leaning next to Dick's chair, an elegant thing made from mahogany, it's handle shaped like a bird about to take flight.

"Gentleman, let's try to get along, yes? Anyone up for a game of chess?" Barbara Gordon's white hair was bound back into a stern up-do, the young nurse wheeling her towards the table barely visible in the presence of Batmania's very own Oracle. Rumor had it that there was nothing Barbara didn't know - and so far that had held true.

"I don't think we have time for chess today, Babs."

"Why? Are you scared, Grayson?"

"No, today is Thursday."

"Ah, you're right." Barbara smiled, all three of them having come into the common room for a reason after all. Jason had even put down his book (some brick by David Graeber), another weapon surely hidden somewhere on his body, in anticipation of what was to come.

Because on Thursdays all three of them welcomed their favorite visitor.

Young Timothy Drake, almost twenty by now. He'd started coming around some years ago, as an afterschool project his parents signed him up to, and now he visited once a week just to see his three favorite old-timers.

And it was quite obvious why they enjoyed his presence so much.

He talked to them.

Better yet, he told them stories.

"Okay, so last time I was here, Red Hood had just returned from the dead to lay claim on Gotham and take revenge on Batman, yes?"

"Finally someone appreciates how badass I am."

"You're not, Todd."

Dick grinned, leaning forward as if to hear Tim better, even though his hearing hadn't left him yet. Jason flipped him off, not daring to loudly interrupt again out of fear that Tim would stop his story.

"Well, the Red Hood is certainly trying to appear daunting in this particular story."

"And where am I in this, Tim?"

"Oh, Oracle is busy in her tower. Have I never told you about the Birds of Prey?"

Timothy Drake was smiling, the rapt attention of his audience invigorating. Barbara shook her head, and he took her hand, ready to guide her into the favorite part of this majestic and heroic universe he had created specifically for them:

Batman. Nightwing. Red Hood. Robin. And, of course, Oracle.

A story just for them.

~

I hope you enjoyed that :D It was certainly fun to come up with!!!! And thank you so much!! <3 <3 <3

(send me a Reverse Trope Writing Prompt with a fandom and a set of characters and I'll write something small for you)