#like free content patches when they realize

[cherie-doll]

Can I request COD Men dating a medic reader,??

I love your writing sm ^-^

Ofc!

౨ৎ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

COD Men x Medic!Reader

Price

Imagine being the new medic and you're nervous because it's your first time working there so you have to try your best to hold it together while patching people up

But one day Price comes in injured and you have to control your nerves as you clean his wound up, he's surprisingly nice and even makes small talk with you, it calms you down

After, you manage to keep thinking about that interaction, just how nice it felt to have a normal conversation, it took your mind off of things and honestly it kept you from a mini panic attack from happening

He wishes he could come see you more often, he liked how refreshing it felt to meet someone who seemed a little hesitant, too afraid to mess up, he likes how you smiled after speaking with him

Since he's busy most of the time he can't come to you as often, but I imagine he likes to invite you to just come and talk to him as you drink with him, it's comforting knowing you can bask in his company and he provides you a shoulder to rest on

Ghost

Believe it or not he trusts you a lot, he shows up to your office in his most vulnerable moments, when he's hurt you treat him and never mention anything of it, he knows it's just you doing your job but he can't help but feel like there is an underlying tone to it

He likes resting in your office or recovery room when he wants to get away from everyone else but can't find a quiet place to do so, he likes his alone time and if being in the medic's room where no one is to come in looking for him then he'll stay there during his free time

He secretly started growing a stronger liking to you when you covered for him and told his buddies they couldn't visit because he "needed to rest", not that he hates his friends he just likes his alone time

He often struggles to sleep so to get away from the other soldiers who snore loudly he'll come to you knowing you're almost always up late and drinking tea, like a cat who is content sitting without talking or doing anything next to you and eventually falls asleep

You tend to admire him silently, the features that you can see through his balaclava when he's not aware of it

Soap

Every time he comes to get checked up he likes making you laugh and telling you the worst jokes, but it makes you laugh lightly and honestly keeps you awake and sane from working overtime since you treat a lot of emergencies

He will be laughing as if he doesn't feel the alcohol you're using to disinfect his wound, he likes pretending like he doesn't feel pain when you push the needle in because he doesn't want to be weak in front of you, it's sort of turned into you trying to make him wince or show that it hurts but he tries grits his teeth and holds it in

Doesn't even know he likes you like that until others are teasing him about how often he talks about you and how he'll try to impress you, in his mind he hasn't come to that realization yet, not that he's denying it because he really enjoys your company

You probably get very nervous checking his eyes when you shine the flashlight on them because you notice the way his eyes crinkle, indicating he's smiling and you have to hold the grin before it shows on your face

As a boyfriend he'd be coming by every moment he can to just cling to you when you're on your breaks and you'll have a hard time getting him to leave you alone or give you some space

Gaz

I can imagine him already having a liking to you, he likes coming by every morning that he can to visit you before anyone else can bother you and just hanging around your office when he's in need of good company

You enjoy his company because he's not unnecessarily flirty like other the others are, he's respectful, caring about your mental health because you deal with so many people on the daily but with him it's different, you don't feel that obligation to smile or put on a fake act around him

Your tired eyes light up seeing him knowing you're going to be recharged emotionally and mentally, it's come to the point where you even seek him after your work is done hoping to spend more time with him

It's sort of hard finding time alone together when so many other people are friends with him yet the moment he sees you he'll pull away from everyone else to go to you

Roach

I have a hc that even if he survives the absolute worst situations no one else has he still deals with the aftermath of it and it's many complications and frequently getting checkups from you just to assure his health is good enough to keep getting sent out to missions

He ends up spending more time with you than he does with most of the other soldiers or members of the task force

He confides so much in you, things he'd never share with anyone else and yet you listen to him so attentively it honestly makes him develop an attachment to you and he'd look for any opportunity to reciprocate the attention you give him

You sometimes hate the way others treat him, despite being a chill guy to be around he's often a little out of orbit when it comes to socializing with the others, you'd think going through shit together would unite them but strangely enough he doesn't get enough dopamine from them like he does with you

It might be wrong to feel this way but you care more about him than all the others, you'll rush to attend his needs before the others

Alejandro

He is actually a very lousy patient, it takes you ages to try to get him to take medication or inject the needle into him despite him always teasing the other soldiers who have had medical procedures done to them

You have to be ready with a cloth and ice pack to instantly place on him or else he'll be wanting to bang his head against the wall for the dramatics, you let him hold your hand, anything to bring him comfort or some sort of relief at that point

To avoid getting to that level of pain he'll often drink before coming to you so he's not fully in his senses to actually feel or register anything you may be doing that would usually cause him to panic, you hate when he does this because you prefer him to be fully aware

Other than that he'll always try flirting with you or calling you something like "chula" in Spanish when passing by you and you simply roll your eyes and hide a smirk knowing he's nothing like that when you approach with a needle

Rudy

He's probably known you since before you were a medic, he's seen how much effort you've put into your training to be where you are today he respects you so much for it

He worries so much for you, probably more than you do for him which is funny because he has the "riskier" job, but he often worries about how you are being treated knowing some of the soldiers you treat have trauma and it can make you very stressed with them

He makes sure you get your much needed rest, especially during the breaks everyone else is gone and you still have to stay around "just in case"

There was this one time he was injured pretty badly and he had to be laid down as someone called the medic, he didn't know who would come but he felt his heart skip a beat seeing it was you running towards him, you knelt by his side and with a warm smile reassured him you wouldn't let him slip away from your grasp just yet

He didn't even need a painkiller when he held your hand to his chest so you could feel how much his heart beat showing you he was still alive and well

Phillip Graves

He could be dying on the bed, clutching a wound with blood gushing out and he'll still manage to give a smug smile and ask for your number, you want to suffocate him with a pillow sometimes but you'll most likely be blamed for medical malpractice, instead you just say "HIPPA" and that shuts him up for now

I like to think he brings his Shadows for checkups like a father bringing his children to the pediatrician, some of them aren't fond of it but he makes them go through it to ensure they are healthy and fit for their next mission or training

If one of his Shadows get severely injured he's rushing to see you with them in his arms (he can't actually carry them have you seen how big his Shadows are??) and begging you to help them, will literally be in tears hoping they heal up just fine and that nothing bad ends up happening

Afterwards, you just kinda have to give him that reassurance and he'll be eternally grateful to you for what you do for him and his team, and don't think that just because you aren't "that important" to his company because he makes sure you feel like a vital member of the family

Him and the Shadows will enjoy spending time with you outside of your work area just to show their appreciation

Makarov

You often worry about him, more than you should, he's always taking risks and needed to end up being brought into your office to have something done to him, you can only sigh and lecture him but he's never the type to take his injuries seriously, most of the time he takes bold decisions and that impacts his health

Most of the time he prefers having you go to him, so you have to pack your stuff up and go treat whatever he's dealing with, he often uses these opportunities as excuses to get to know you better and just overall toy with you

You hate when he does this as it wastes time and he's keeping you away from patients who could be needing treatment, whenever you hint at this he simply shrugs it off, clearly not caring about others

You carry so much responsibility on your shoulders to be carelessly leaving where you're stationed to treat a paper cut, but after all he always slips in something extra to keep you coming

Keegan

Loves to initiate arguments with you for the fun of it, you two will be bickering over him not wanting to take a prescription you've given him

You could be stressing over an infected cut and he's trying to act as if it were nothing, that being said the sounds he makes when he's injured and grunting and clutching his arm or side in pain and trying to control his breathing have me AKJERUJS-

He doesn't actually get to see you all that often as he wishes but you know he'll be coming to get "treated" when he comes back from a mission, he always thinks to come see you before anyone else can

And he knows you're often at risk too when you have to go along to treat sick and injured soldiers, he doesn't like to dwell too much on how you could be in danger so he just chooses to focus on his task knowing if he's not careful he won't be able to make it back to tease you again

König

He's the type to rarely go to the medic just because wounds on his body heal insanely fast but also because you will have to FORCE this man to enter your office

He was used to his the previous medic, an older man who took his time with each patient, could barely see which is why he often told the soldiers who came to him to read the medicine labels for him and such

But imagine his surprise when he walks into your office and sees a younger medic there instead of the old medic, he's completely silent as he sits in the chair waiting for you to clean a wound he only came because the pain got so bad he couldn't suppress it

Now he's considering saying he's fine and walking out, but you're already washing your hands and putting gloves on, going over to him and asking for him to show you the injury

He has to look away and his eyes roam the room, looking for something to focus on other than your focused stare, and gentle fingertips that hover over his skin as you inspect the wound that he could have ignored for a little longer

Horangi

He is a headache to deal with, comes in after every mission to get his injuries treated but will talk A LOT, mostly boasting and smug explaining how he got this bruise and those cuts

You're tired of hearing him but honestly you'll take whatever as a distraction, and you know he's BUILT like that man will be flexing his biceps and you can't help but stare at them, also his waist?!?

Before leaving he always jokes for you not to miss him incase he doesn't come back from the next mission, you just roll your eyes because you don't want to admit that he's grown on you and his absence is something you don't even want to think about

He likes sending you notes with flirty messages on them to show his growing interest in wanting to pursue a relationship with you because you never give in to letting him have your number, he always wants to take you out to some fancy restaurant or cook for you himself, anything to get you out of your office for a day and spend it with him alone

Nikto

You're often doing a million things at once, quickly treating a patient and ushering them out so you can see the next one who's grunting as they wait in line, that day Nikto has to get something treated and he just so happens to go on a busy day

You're in a rush to treat your patients in pain but he notices some of them aren't even in pain, they seem to have relaxed looks on their faces and they don't have any wounds that he can see, they even joke and laugh with one another

Turns out some of them are only there to chat with you, as happens most of the time with soldiers who are stationed in one place too long with little to no freedom to roam anywhere else, Nikto doesn't understand why they would waste your time when it's finally his turn to see you and you tenderly yet efficiently treat him

He likes the way you touched him, even if it was only you doing your job, he likes your pretty eyes, even if you barely looked at him, he thinks your voice is precious to hear, even if you only used it to direct a single question to him, now he understands those soldiers in line who don't mind waiting an hour just to be with you for a moment

[kanekisfavoritegf]

PERFECT LOVER: The Life of Nanami Kento the 35 Year Old Virgin

MINORS & BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT YOU WILL GET BLOCKED

SYNOPSIS: Kento Nanami, a 35-year-old introvert with a tendency to avoid social interactions, has made a conscious decision to steer clear of romantic entanglements. However, everything changes when he meets a new colleague at his birthday party, (Satoru's Idea). From the moment they meet, he is mesmerized, finding himself increasingly unable to resist her magnetic presence. Like taking a bite of forbidden fruit, he becomes ensnared by the allure, delving into a realm of infatuation and finding himself unable to break free. As he delves deeper into this newfound connection, Nanami begins to realize that he craves more than just a fleeting experience and yearns for more than just a fleeting taste of what she embodies.

Table of Contents

WORD COUNT: 1.5K

CHAPTER SIX:

Kento’s bathroom was nice, and it was also nice the last time you sat on the edge of his bathtub, hungover. 

You stared at the drying white patch on the bottom of your dress and fought the urge to break out into uncontrollable laughter. 

It was hilarious, it shouldn’t have been, but it was. This whole situation was starting to dawn on you; Kento Nanami, no matter how tall and how stoic and sneakily flirty he was, was a virgin—a virgin who was trusting you to be the calm and collected one. Running to the bathroom after having him release on you isn’t painting the image of a calm and collected person.

Opting for a calmer approach, you changed out of your dress first and threw on his shirt. It was black and oversized, with the words “Metallica” written in big white letters.

Metallica? He didn’t seem like the type.

When you opened your door, you were half surprised not to see Kento standing at your door waiting to usher you back into the kitchen, but he was nowhere to be seen. Walking down the dimly lit hallway and back into the living room, it was empty, with no sign of the blonde anywhere. You made sure to step over the rug and look over the couch to see Kento setting up the dinner table.

Candles lit and food already set down, Kento walked around the table, fussing over every last detail. It was cute to watch from a distance. You approached slowly and quietly, stopping once you were close enough to watch but far enough not to be detected. He hummed along to some jazz song that played in the background.

“Can I sit down, or should I keep watching you shift the cutlery to the right and then the left again?” You smiled at him, stepping into the warm yellowish candlelight. Its soft scent hugged your body and filled your nose.

“I don’t know…” Kento looked up at you, “I quite like my view right now. Maybe I’ll make you stand here for the rest of the night as I eat.”

“You wouldn’t be so cruel, Mr. Nanami.”

“I just might.”

Kento took your hand and led you to your spot. You were across from each other at the ends of the table. 

“So Metallica?”

“Don’t seem like the type, do I?”

“Not in the slightest.” You laughed.

“Was very antisocial in high school.”

“More so than now?” Kento nodded before continuing,

“It was comical how bad it was. Anyways, my lack of want to socialize, along with wired earphones and a lock on my door, I found solace in music, loud, loud music.

Long story short, he was a big emo kid who swore that his life was not just a phase.”

“Awe. I was a big Orchestra nerd, Cello first chair, Always.”

“Of course you were.”

“I look like an Orchestra kid?”

“No, you look like the type to be perfect at everything.”

“You flatter me, Mr. Nanami.”

“Don’t let it go to your pretty head.”

“You think I am pretty?” you asked, taking another bite of the food, holding back the urge to moan at the taste.

Nanami didn’t answer immediately, taking a slow sip at his wine as he held your stare. 

“You have no idea what I think about you.” You couldn’t look away even if you wanted to; it was like he dared you to break it first to give in. Kento was pulling you in each direction. Did he want you to take the lead, or did he want you to give in? Something in his eyes, a glimmer of defiance. 

Take the lead, it is.

“Eat your food, Kento.” You said, a small smile painted on your face as it was your turn to take a long swig at your drink. The red wine slipped down your throat and warmed your stomach.  

“I think you should do the same, Y/N. I can’t have you drinking on an empty stomach.” You laughed under your breath, taking a bite out of your food, watching as he followed along, only eating when you did.

Soon, nothing was on your plate and an almost empty wine cup.

“Come to the couch and bring the bottle with you, Kento.” Standing up, you didn’t wait to see if he had followed your order; you heard the quiet sound of his steps tracking behind you.

Sitting across from you, Nanami Kento looked on, a proud man. 

“What do you want from me, Mr. Nanami?” Fear tightened its grip on your heart, uncertainty casting a shadow over your thoughts. You were both grown adults; there was no need to beat around the bush. Casual relationships were a familiar territory for you, but they always left someone hurt. Was Kento looking to be serious, or were you just a pawn in his game of manhood? A person must satisfy his desires and boast about them to Satoru. No matter how much you wanted to belive he wasn’t like that, he could be that type. 

“I am a virgin.”

“As we have previously established.”

“I like you, but I am a virgin.” He took a deep breath before continuing. His eyes not on you fully. “I want to please you. I want to give you what others also could. But I— I don’t know how.”

“Kento… We don’t have to jump straight into the sex. It can wait.”

“I don’t want to wait. I want you to teach me.”

“Teach you?” 

“Yes. So tell me what you want, and teach me how to do it. I’ll be good for you; I’ll be so so good if you give me time to learn.”

“You want me to teach you?”

His head nodded rapidly as he inched closer to you, and now on your thigh, ghosting over your damp-clothed cunt.

“Fuck.” You whispered under your breath.

“Is that what you want? Me to fuck you?” His head fell into your neck, panting as his hand pressed against your pussy. 

You shook your heads at his words. You did want him to fuck you, but your head became less and less there as his fingers rubbed you over your panties. 

“No? you don’t want me to fuck you?” He was teasing you. Mocking you.

“Kento.” You warned him as you pressed yourself into his hand more.

“Y/N.” He mirrored.

 “I want you to make me cum.”

“Teach me.” He whispered against your skin. Hands tugging at your panties until they ripped. He discarded the wet fabric on his rug and kept his attention on you. More so, your aching cunt. With one thick finger now inside you, you writhed against him.

“Tell me what to do, Y/N.” He demanded.

“Pump in and out.” He nodded, watching your face as you let yourself be taken by the pleasure. 

“Oh fuck, Kento. More. More Please More now.” You grasped his hair, tugging it back slightly as you moved your hips in time with his digit. 

“Another one?”

“Yes, God Y-Yes.” 

With another finger in you now, your whines and moans became more consistent as he forced them out of you.

“Curl your fingers up. Kento.”

He didn’t even verbally respond. He was too busy moaning at you, moaning as if your pleasure was just as much his as it was yours.

His head was already nuzzled in your neck. He took a long stripe at your jugular as his fingers made a come here motion inside you. 

You were a mess, moaning and panting. It was like he was pulling pleasure from you on a string. His breath felt hot against you, and in between the groans of pleasure he received, grinding into your words so high pitched, so whiney they couldn’t have possibly been from him. But they were.

“Teach me.” A bite to your neck and a groan followed. You could barely breathe, let alone process his words to you.

“I am teaching you.” You slurred through a honeyed tongue. 

“Teach me”, He repeated, licking over his previous bite. “Please, Y/N. Show me how to make you cum,”

“Y-You, are already doing– Fuck!” It was too much; you tried, but the words failed you. Your sentences became nothing but incoherent babbles, 

“I thought you said you wanted me to make you cum,” Kento removed his fingers, taking them to his mouth, “So Teach me, Y/N.”

He raised your hips until your legs sat over his shoulders and mouth hovering outside of your wet entrance. He took a greedy stripe at your cunt; slowly, with so much pressure, a broken sob escaped you. It was a single lick, and he pulled away immediately, not before moaning at your taste.

“Please,” he begged over and over as he continued to force your hips against him.

“Teach me.” He licked again. This time, no moan left you. Despite your mouth being wide open in the shape of an “O”, You didn’t make a single sound. Your body convulsed, and you came all over his chin.

“Teach me,” Kento demanded one last time. And you nodded mindlessly along to his words, and Kento had cum again, just from the sight of you.

Preview...

“Bend over and be a good girl.”

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CHAPTER SEVEN: loading...

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[jester089]

Gotta say, massive fan of the work you’ve pumped out, especially for TADC (it came out two weeks or so ago and there’s this much already what?!)

That said, could you write for the gang (separately, I’m sorry l know it’s a lot) who’s s/o resisted abstraction? Like, they were halfway through but turned back through sheer will? *Insert John Wick reference* This has been ping ponging in my head for a while. Thanks for listening! XO

Glitchy pain

I've written for something like this before. And I wasn't sure if you wanted angst or fluff. But since what I wrote before was angst I'm gonna just donna do my ideas on this one. Also to anyone else who feels like requesting don't be afraid to ask for a lot of characters. My max is like 10 and only because Tumblr doesn't like super long posts. I honestly don't think I would have a max if not for that. But really from like 7 pm to 4 am I got a lot of free time and the want to write. So ask to your hearts content. TADC crew x (kind of) abstracted reader

Caine

Caine was floating around when he heard what sounded like a pained and glitchy scream? He quickly floats over to where he heard it from only to find you clutching your head crumpled up into a ball on the floor. He was about to float down and ask you what happened before he noticed the random glitches, black spiky flesh, and randomly colored eye balls all appearing and disappearing in the blink of an eye. So he backed off, a little sad over the fact you were abstracting but life goes on. Until you let out another pained scream, it was almost like the abstraction reacted as the second you screamed it reverted a bit and slowed down. It continues like that for who knows how long. You in a mental and physical battle with abstraction. Caine just staring completely taken back by what he was witnessing. After enough time you vomit a nasty and seemingly living blob of black goo onto the floor and pass out. Caine stares at your motionless body for a few seconds before snapping out of it. He puts the weird goo blob into the cellar and takes you back to your room. He doesn't even know how to react, so he sits there at your bedside waiting for you to wake up. Once you do he is relived to find it's still you, speaking in full sentences and everything. Sure your voice and body have the occasional glitch but overall you're ok. So he leaves you be, mostly. He still needs to study your code for how you did that. But past that and him being a bit more "walking on egg shells" around you, but nothing really changes. And not wanting the others to think your a threat, you and Caine don't tell anyone.

Gangle

Gangle was wandering around looking for you. Her comedy mask broke again and you were the only one who knew how to fix it properly. She could patch it up sure but it never lasted long. Much like Caine she heard you scream out, only difference being she recognized your voice. She quickly changed from casual and aimless stroll to sprint with reason finding you leaned against a wall holding your stomach looking like your about to throw up. She runs up to you and places a hand(?) on each side of your head staring into your eyes. She in a panicked voice asks "Are you ok?! What happened?!" You half shove her away a garbled and messy version of your voice half screaming out that it isn't safe. You quickly regret taking the energy to speak and move as a giant surge of pain jolts up your digital spine forcing you onto your knees. You let out another pained groan/scream as black goo starts oozing out of your mouth. It's only then that Gangle realizes your glitching! She panics and tells you to stay calm while she gets Caine. Gangle sprints off with a mission luckily finding Caine rather quickly. She especially screams at him to help her/follow her. He listens and follows her. When she gets back to where she left you, your passed out. But you aren't glitching anymore. And your not fully abstracted. She carefully walks over to you and sets a gentle hand (ribbon) on your face feeling a whole lot of relief when you half swat at her hand in your sleep. She'll watch you while you sleep making sure you aren't disturbed but when you're awake and she's sure you're ok you are going to be getting a whole lot of cuddles from her. Her comedy mask can wait.

Zooble

Zooble was missing a leg and was hobbling/jumping her way towards your room to ask if you'd seen it. She knocked on your door only to receive no response. She knocks again. Nothing. So she unlocks it with the spare key you gave her. She is stunned by what she sees. Obsessive scribbles covering your walls. Wall paper torn and dirtied. She takes a few cautious steps before finally hearing you say in a horrible sounding voice "P̵̛̣̤̪̑̈́̄͆̚p̴̹͇̆̑̐͠ṕ̷͔̼͙̅̀͐̿͋͜͝P̵̢͚̩̱̮̭̉͜͠l̵͔̟̰̘̼̹̼̯͉͆ḛ̴̣͈̖͛̈́̏̏͌̕͜a̴̢͇̣̮̠͕̮͆̾s̸̡͉̣̺̯͚̾̈́͋̃̑͊͘s̵̼͛̃͛̄̏̊̊͜͠ͅs̷̨̯̬̯͊e̵̢̪̜̗͙̞͈̠͌̔͠s̸̢͔̝̳̞͈̭̲͂͆̇̄͛́́͗ͅͅ ̴̗̻̳̗̜̙̹̘͒̒̑̅̂̎̚͘w̴̰̘͂͊̌̒͘w̸̢̦̑̍̈́͊W̷̨̄̑̌̂̚͝W̵̦̙͇̝̲̪̝̫̜̰̄͑̚w̶̮͐̏̀͊͠h̴̬̤̠̩̰͋͗̾̓̈́̍̅ó̴͍̭͇̯͚̮͔̽̓̔̈́ ̶̥̑͋͒̿̀Ê̶̼͎͇͍̳̯͌͋͐̓̋v̸̢͓̩͗͜͝v̴͇͇̮̻͖̪͕̰̹̫̔̌̎̇̑́ë̷̪̤̫̪͌͂̓̕͘e̵̢̨̱̘̗͙̘̱̱̩̎̾̀v̸͍̄͠ë̶̡̙̠̣̰̠́͜r̸͇̰͖̍͑͌̆̌ ̷̯̼͕͍̭̭̲͙̰̽̈́͝y̷̪͉͓͗̿̀̐̈̃̆õ̷̢̜̮̬͒̈́͒̿̀̽̈́͂̈́ǘ̸̡̟̭̩̠̜̬͙̃ṵ̴̭̮̹̯̺̜̤̈͂̽u̸̬̠͉̺͍̰͉̦͌̋́̃͌̊͘͜ ̵̲͖̩̹̲̊̐͂͝͝a̵̰̩̻̗͕͎̮͈̥̫͂̂̌̆̆̎̑a̴̭͒͐̏̎́́͝à̶̛̘̮͍̟̻͕̰̽̍͛̽̈́̃͛͝r̴͎͚͇̻̞̬͑̂̅̿͋̅̂͊̔ą̴̛̱̱̗̔̈́̈́̔͒̆̌͘͠r̵̺̰̬̹̮̬̘̜̈́̊͗͛̅̌͌͘͜ę̸̛̺̞͚̹̘̱̥̲̒̍̏̔͛̌̚ȇ̴̩.̶̛̖̙̦̝̹̰͔̉͂̆̉̐̾̐͠͝ ̵̘̙͎̼̻̩̬͖͌̉̾̂̄͜J̵͐̏̇̈́̑̃͜͝͝j̶̛̠̬̟̓͗͗͆̆̀̈́̿̂͜j̴̢͍̦͉̯͑̍̓J̷̨̧̢̳̟̠̯͖͖͚̐̈̏̓̈͐̎̐͝j̶̫̞̬͖̯̯̹̺̩͆̾̽́̈́̄ͅJ̵͖̘̫̓u̷̡̧͔̥͇͕͔̞̠̇͛̈́̎͂̌͂͘̕ş̶͕̫̎ṫ̷͈͖̲̩͉͌̅̍̈́́̿ ̷̠̃̏̀͂͑́��͕̖̜̻̯̻̖l̷̳̣̼̓̈́̊̈́̈̎̀́̋̚͜L̶̡̜̣͔͔̼̠̗̎̇̈́̕Ļ̴̞̟̱̹͓̹̪͖͚̂̐͐̑̂͆̐̓̚͠ḽ̶̢̧̙̺̯͖̰͓͐͗̽̈́̃̔̀̾̕l̴̢̢̳̜̣̦̎́́̔̕̚e̷͔̫͉̘͉̓̓͋͊̀̿̄̕͝ͅã̷̡̢̝̮͔̮̰̱͒͌̈͊̾͂͠ͅͅv̷̗̼͎̠̝̋̓͒͛̂͐͜͜è̶̪̟̲̘̃̓ ̴̺̊̉͑̉̽̅́̕̕m̸̧̦͔̙͍̘̭̲̄͂m̸̧̫͎͌̀̃͜ͅM̴͍͍̫͚̺͚̪̺̿́̒͋̂͐̿͗̚͘m̴̛̘̼͔͑̿̏̅͌̊̾̕e̴̩̟͈̙͑̏͐̆̓͆̏̚͠͝ ̵̳̤͉͉͙̬̥̉̓́̀̓̃̀̌̊͜ͅḁ̶̧̗͈͍͍̉͂̀͆͗̾̆́̚͜͝l̴̜͓͈̄͌̓̈́̉͊͊̍͝a̵̲͒̋̂͐́̊̕̚͝â̶̢͕̫̘̮͈̻͕͙̩͑̂ḹ̵̨̮̓̓̊̍̕̚͝o̵͖͔̥̳̊̐̀͠n̵̺̥̲͔͔̿͋̊ë̶̯̤̻́̌̎̎́̾͋̄̄̋.̵̪̑͆̀̎" (Please whoever you are. Just leave me alone.) She cautiously walks over to your bed and peaks over it. Your laying there curled up into a ball torn and broken items surrounding you. Y-your abstracting?! B-but... Zooble doesn't even really register the fact. She's in shock from seeing you like this. (I mean I would be too) You let out an ear piercing scream and claw at your own face with enough force to tear the skin, if you weren't digital at least. The glitching gets much much worse for a few seconds before just, stopping. No rhyme or reason that she can see. But you can bet your a&$ that after like 5 seconds pass and you stop showing signs of abstraction she's going to huddle near your spitting out so many questions. Mainly ones like "ARE YOU OK!?!" and "Your still with me right?! RIGHT!?!"

Kinger

Kinger would more likely then not be there when your first started glitching. And that might make him officially lose it. Your the second person in this hell (Queener) who he felt close too. And he outlived you too. Still you aren't abstracted yet. Maybe their's still a chance! So he sprints off screaming out for Caine in a voice that is loud enough to make you go deaf if you were too close to him. When he finds Caine. And he will find Caine he grabs him by the shoulders and sprints towards where he last saw you. He basically throws Caine at your glitching form and yells at him to fix you! In that second you stop glitching Caine did nothing and Kinger will basically tackle you. He'll pick you up and hold you over his head like a spear and sprint towards your rooms. Once there he will set up the comfiest coziest pillow fort possible then get you all comfy inside. Once he's sure your at least mostly safe and he's at least mostly calmed down he'll ask you about what happened. (Despite him being pretty crazy I really do feel like out of everyone he would be the best at communication in a friend or relationship. I mean he's that crazy and yet he still has manners and knowledge about a lot. Tbh he might become my fav. Idk it's possible.)

Ragatha

You were helping out Ragatha with a surprise she was making for everyone to lighten their moods when you said that you feel kind of sick so you were going to call it a night. She nods thanks you for the help you gave then gives you a quick peck to the lips as a send off. Not to much to her surprise you choose to lay in her bed instead of yours. Just something you do when you don't wanna be alone. She shrugs it off and keeps working actually quite grateful that you decided to not leave, not fully at least. She keeps working but stops when she hears some very concerning noises coming from your sleeping body. She turns around to see you tossing and turning an abnormal amount in your sleep, as well as making a lot of noises that sound like when someone is choking on their own blood. Concerned she carefully walks over to check on you only to recoil when she notices the glitching. She trips over her own foot and falls over onto her back. She quickly but clumsily gets up and gets back to you. She shakes you a bit trying to wake you up, but you don't only concerning her more. She yells calls out for Pomni who pokes her head through Ragatha's door a second later. Ragatha nearly screams at her to go get Caine. Pomni startled by Ragatha's tone turns heel and runs off to look for Caine while Ragatha stays with you. She keeps whispering things like "You're gonna be ok" and "Pomni's getting Caine just hang in there". Always keeping a hand on you not caring when it starts glitching out too. When Pomni returns with Caine, Ragatha full on yells at him to help you. He looks at you, then back at her, then with a apologetic tone says their isn't anything he can do as abstraction is one of those things he doesn't have control over. Ragatha breaks into tears. So she's gonna lose you, she was even there. BUT SHE CAN'T F@%#&$* HELP?! She holds onto you like you're her last tether to reality. And you seem to get better. Your at the very least don't seem to be in pain anymore! So she squeezes you, really f&$%@#* hard happier then should be possible that your improving.

Jax

Jax found you in his room voice glitching you huddled over in pain. At first he thought it was a revenge prank and acted accordingly. "Haha, very funny Y/N. Now get out of my room I need to do something." That is until you vomited up a ton of pitch black goo. Then he started taking it more seriously. He quickly crouches down and wraps an arm around you to try and provide some support. He freaks out and quickly pulls his arm back when you vomit up more goo and starts visibly glitching. He panics and quickly looks around his room locking onto a like 3 day old unopened water bottle. He opens it and hands it to you as well as a thing to squeeze that half yells to just hang in there he'll be right back. He sprints around not even knowing who to get. He sees Ragatha and half tackles her. He shouts directly into her face that you need help and that you in his room. He tosses her in the direction of his room then continues sprinting around not long after finding Caine. He grabs Caine ignoring his protests and runs back to his room where he fins Ragatha sitting next to his bed you tucked in. Your not vomiting anything and you aren't glitching. You're just shivering. He hears you mumble his name and literally kicks Ragatha and Caine out quickly getting to your side. After he feels he wont get hurt he quickly gets into bed holding you close "If you ever do that again I'm going to take back my vow to not tease you." He falls asleep with his chin resting on your head.

Pomni

At first when you started glitching Pomni didn't really know it was abstraction. She's never seen someone abstract after all, only seeing the finished product. But when you keep getting worse and worse she realizes that something is wrong. So she leaves you with a quick kiss then runs off to the communication thing Caine made after the whole Kaufmo incident. She calls him and when he picks up she screams into the phone that your glitching out. When Caine appears next to her she runs back over to where you are not even checking if Caine is following. When she gets back to you, you're still in really bad shape. She turns back to Caine and yells at him to help you. When he tells her that he can't she starts hyperventilating, then she sees him pick you up and the cellar hole open?! OH F&#$ NO! She basically punches Caine then clings to you protectively, ready to throw hands with Caine if she has to. Caine tries and pull her off when she starts glitching but she has the grip of a professional rock climber. So Caine has to keep curing her glitches at they appear. Cause in his mind your beyond help but she isn't. Then you start to improve. No more coughing and the glitching has slowed down! Pomni glares at Caine then turns back to you with a scared and tired smile on her face. Once your ok enough to talk you are going to get an earful. WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL HER YOU WERE FEELING BAG ENOUGH TO ABSTRACT?!?!?! (Sorry this was so long. I got a little carried away. And surprisingly I'm pretty proud of this one. I hope you enjoyed it!)

xoxo, Jester

[surielstea]

Taunts and Tension

Based on this request!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader and Azriel go on a spy mission and come back a little more touchy than usual?

Warnings: Sexual tension | Briefest mention of a threesome | innuendo of oral (m receiving)

2.8k words

“You have got to be kidding me,” The Shadow Singer grumbled as the High Lord told him we’ve been partnered for his next mission.

“Unfortunately, he’s not,” I huff to the tall male, just as annoyed as him. “Rhys with all due respect, I work alone,” Azriel contended and I scoff. “Does that apply to your love life too?” I quip but they both ignore me. “I know Az, but Eris likes her, he’s more likely to play by our rules if we use her as bait,” Rhys says. “It’s just a meeting, the both of you only have to get along for a few hours,” He hums and I roll my eyes, I couldn’t refuse the offer, he was paying me double for this. “Fine,” Azriel uttered, the fool agreed for free.

“Good, you leave at sunset,” The half-fae instructs then quickly dismisses the both of us when his mate comes into his office, a babbling Nyx in her arms. “Hi sweetie,” I coo at the two-year-old as I pass Feyre on the way out. “Auntie!” He exclaims with a bright smile. The High Lady waved at me and I returned it. “Be careful on your mission tonight,” She advises and I brush her off. “It’s just a meeting, nothing to be worried about.” I smile. “Oh, I wasn’t referring to your assignment,” Her eyes flick to Azriel and my lips form an ‘o’ shape in realization. She chuckled then gave me a wink as the Shadow Singer passed by me, muttering a curse under his breath. I return her smile then nod in a farewell and go the opposite direction down the hall.

The Spring Court was a lot duller than I had expected. Sure the flowers were in bloom and the sun still seeped through the trees but, there was no vibrancy to the colors. “Feyre really did a number on this place,” I hum, looking out at the deserted Court. It still held some beauty, the crystal clear lakes with lily pads floating heedlessly, the rolling hills, and flower fields.

“I kind of feel bad for him,” I mutter, bending down and plucking a daisy from a patch sprouting out the trunk of a maple tree. “Don’t,” Azriel huffed. We were on the border between Spring and Autumn so there was a weird merging between wildlife, the magnolia trees slowly shifting into maples, bunnies sectioned from foxes, and lush forests morphing into rustic woods.

“Are we early or is he just trying to make an entrance?” I sigh, already bored. “Early,” He replies and my shoulders sag. “Can you only respond with one-word answers?” I narrow my eyes on the Shadow Singer. He smirks. “No,” He says and I grit my teeth, looking down at the daisy in my hands.

We go silent for a moment. I stare out at the dusky sky, the last of the sun slipping below the hills. He seems content to continue staring at me, much to my dismay. I didn’t know what for, it’s not like he had to keep an eye on me, and there was nothing I could do that his shadows wouldn’t report back to him, they were often all over me, seemingly out of his control when I was around.

“What?” I snap my head back to him after only a minute, his stare becoming too physical, like I could feel the way his eyes traced my features. “Why are you dressed like that?” He tilts his head. I look down at my gown with creased brows. It was a silk slip, a rich mocha color. I look at what he’s wearing, his usual leathers. “It’s a meeting Azriel, we’re not battling warriors,” I remark. “Is it because we’re meeting with Eris?” He tilts his head. I cross my arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I bite back. “That you’re trying to impress him,” He surmises.

“Nuh-uh!”

“Nuh uh?” He mocks. “That’s your defense?” The brunette scoffs and my frown deepens, leaning against the tree at my back. “I wore the dress ‘cause I didn’t wanna change, okay?” I explain with narrowed brows. “And it’s not my fault he admires me,” I add. “Not that you know the feeling,” I murmur under my breath but of course, he heard it.

He takes a menacing step forward, shadows turning sporadic around him and I roll my eyes on the dramatics of it— anyone else would’ve been begging for forgiveness just by looking into the darkness of his eyes. “What was that?” His hand comes to my chin, forcing my head toward him. I jerk out of his hold with a grimace.

“I said you don’t know what it’s like to be admired, or do you need a reminder that you’ve been chasing the same girl for five hundred years?” This time I was the one to take a step forward, my chest nearly pressed to his. “Because newsflash Az, she doesn’t want you—” I start but his hands come to my wrists and pull them up above my head, pinning me to the tree, his other hand on my hip so I can’t thrash.

His nostrils flared, eyes ablaze and I nearly laughed. “You’re constantly teetering on that edge huh? Can’t ever keep your temper in check?” I arch a brow up at him, my smirk only widens as I watch him grit his teeth. He knew what I meant. Knew that he pounced on anyone who damaged his fragile ego, and talked down on his precious family, gods forbid I mention Morrigan. His hold moves from my waist to my neck, wrapping his large hand entirely around my throat, softly squeezing.

“You’re choking me,” I whisper out and the sadistic fuck has a smile on his face. “You seem like the type to be into that,” He presumes and he wouldn’t be far off if this was a different situation. I flush pink at the idea, it’d be a lie if I said I hadn’t imagined the Spymaster on top of me more than once. My cheeks were burning hot, I was beyond embarrassed, and slightly turned on.

“Not so talkative now, are we?” He was so close, so close his body was pressed to my own, our breath shared as his face hovered above mine, cauldron damn his height.

“Let me go,” I pull at my wrists but his grip is iron, and maybe my attempts were halfhearted because, in all honesty, I didn’t want to leave this position one bit. “You learn your lesson yet? Or are you gonna keep being a brat?” He hums and arousal pools in my panties. I quickly glamour the scent, praying he didn’t recognize it before I got the chance. “Fuck you,” I seethe, continuing my futile attempts to escape. “Such a filthy mouth, you wanna put it to better use?” He asks and if I wasn’t red before I definitely was now. “In your dreams,” I hiss. “Oh love, it is,” He smirks, and my brain stutters. What’d he just say?

My pointed ears perk before I can reply, noticing an unfamiliar pair of footsteps. Not Eris.

“Someone’s coming, kiss me,” I say with a rushed tone. “What?” His hand loosened around my neck. “Just—” I don’t finish and interrupt myself by lifting onto my toes and crashing my lips against his.

He seems taken aback for a moment then to my surprise, leans into it. I melt at the feeling. He was tentative at first but once I showed him this was what I asked for he seemed almost, hungry. His hand slips from my throat and cups my jaw instead, calloused thumb pulling at my bottom lip and forcing them open. I can’t help but obey his silent command, parting my lips wider so he can capture me fully. His mouth seals over mine yet again and my stomach ties into knots, the thrumming sensation in my ribcage making me realize this was a point of no return.

His tongue explored my mouth like it was his and his alone, he was devouring me and I savored every moment. An energy buzzed between us, my wrists still pinned up by his hold, but I wasn’t any less greedy with my lips. I wanted him to taste me, to memorize me, and never forget the feel of his lips on mine, I wanted it to hurt when he had to pull away. Languid movements with his tongue turn into messy, impatient strokes, needing all of me right then and there— and I would’ve given it to him if not for that pair of footsteps returning, so much closer this time.

“What’s going on here?” A gruff voice demands answers and Azriel hesitantly detaches, like he was unwilling.

It takes me a moment to even open my eyes, gods if he’s got me this paralyzed over just a kiss who knows how much more I could take? Azriel lets go of my wrists and I regain consciousness.

“I’m sorry Officer,” I put on my most innocent smile. The male in front of me was Autumn Court patrol, lower in rank based on the patches on his arms. “What’s an Illyrian doing so far from home?” He snarled the word like it was a curse. “We’re traveling sir,” I say, intertwining my hand with Azriel’s. He stiffens at the action as if I didn’t just have his lips on mine. “Travelin’?” The officer scoffs. “Out here?” He hums. “Yes sir, it’s our honeymoon,” I grin wildly, trying to capture the excitement of newlyweds as I hold our linked hands up.

The officer raises his brows a fraction, he was buying it. He was visibly older, you had to be ancient as a fae to start having wrinkles and this guy had plenty. “You know, I feel like I recognize you,” He hums and I swallow thickly. It was more likely for Azriel to get recognized out of the two of us, so the Shadow Singer didn’t take his chances and stuffed his face into my neck, lining kisses from my shoulder to my jaw. My hand goes into his hair, weaving my fingers into his soft, dark locks as I continue carrying on the conversation.

“Really? What from?” I tilt my head, resting my luck. “Not quite sure…” He thinks for a moment. “Ah, forget it probably just confusing you with my granddaughter, she’s lovely like you,” He says and I giggle light-heartedly. “That’s sweet to hear,” I smile. “Alright you kids be safe, perhaps find an inn somewhere,” He starts his trek once more. “Thank you, officer!” I call to him and he gives me a wave.

I nearly cackle as Azriel pulls away from my neck, my lipgloss smeared along his lips. I reach up and wipe it away with a teasing smile. “Not much of a spymaster if I’m the one saving you, hm?” I say, hands cupping his cheeks. “You were the one distracting me in the first place,” He defended, crossing his arms and I snicker. “Awh, poor Illyrian baby is pouting 'cause I’m better at his job,” I taunt, his gaze on my lips as I talk.

“Well, that was quite the show,��� A familiar, smooth voice intones from a short distance away and I whip my head towards the figure, leaning against a tree with an unmistakable foxlike smirk on his face. “How long have you been standing there?” Azriel questions and it seems like the Heir might laugh. “It’s truly a wonder how your shadows didn’t find me, though I suppose they’re preoccupied at the moment,” He gestures to the ground beneath me where they were pooling at my feet, flicking up and twining at my ankle every now and again, completely forgetting what their job was in my presence.

The meeting went smoothly, Azriel was a bit on edge with the lack of his Shadows but other than that Eris complied easily, he seemed to have something up his sleeve but we’d worry about that at a later date, we were only ensuring his loyalty was still with us.

He updated us on some information including his father, the two males briefing over a plan to take down Beron, and as I stood there I realized I was just for show, a shiny jewel for Eris to look at, keep his attention before he got the idea that he could survive on his own. Not that I minded being looked at by the Heir, he was quite pretty— hel, I’d be lying if I said I haven’t dreamed about both the males in front of me, at once, more than once.

Azriel shadow-walked us back to the House of Wind when we were finished, or rather when he was finished. I probably could’ve stayed a few more minutes just to admire Eris in the pale moonlight, but my plans just had to be foiled by the Shadow Singer.

Az flew me the rest of the way into the house bridal style— since you couldn’t winnow straight in due to the wards. His hold on me felt more familiar than usual, and when he put me down he didn’t step away so neither did I.

“Hey,” Cassian said from the dining table, a mouthful of food muffling his voice. We both swivel towards the male, sat next to Nesta who couldn’t be bothered to look up from her book to greet us. “How’d the mission go?” The brunette at the table said once he swallowed his food. We both stiffen, the memory of that kiss has been replaying in my head over and over since it ended and yet it felt odd for anyone else to bring it up.

“Uh, went nice…” I shrug. Nesta looks up from her page, eyes piercing as they read me like the chapters in her book. “Really?” She intervenes and I nod. “Yup, just, so normal,” Azriel blurts out, and for a Spymaster, he was awfully bad at lying. Cassian creased his brows, clearly concerned for his brother. “Why are you acting so weird, then?” Nesta interrogates and the male and I share a look. “I don’t think he’s acting weird,” I scoff. “Do you think you’re acting weird?” My words are fast like I only have one breath to finish my sentence. “Pshh, never,” He shakes his head, looking down at his feet then back up to Lady Death.

“Right, well, man am I exhausted,” I stretch, feigning a yawn. “Yeah, the mission really wore me out,” He sighs, rolling his shoulders like there’s a weight off of them, following me up the stairs towards the bedrooms.

Nesta looks to her mate, a small smirk on her lips. “What?” The lord of bloodshed says cluelessly. “They’re totally going to fuck,” She hums, sinking into her chair a little and picking her book back up.

Azriel and I split off into our respective bedrooms, just across the hall from each other.

I paced beside my closed door, wondering what the fuck was I thinking when I let him kiss me. Sure I’ve always thought he was pretty but that was always a stupid fantasy, not something I would ever pursue… until now. Fuck, I am so finished. I repeatedly hit my palm against my forehead as I racked my head for any thought that didn’t immediately trace back to him. I couldn’t even look at my own hands without thinking about his hands, how they held my jaw— no. I wasn’t going to let myself romanticize this, it was just a mission. Nothing more. Just a kiss. A yearning, passion-filled kiss that fed all my cravings and somehow created new ones.

I groaned, deciding that this was the finest form of torture. I now stand still in front of my door, hoping that if I stare hard enough at it, he’ll come knocking and kiss me again because, fuck, I do want him.

I can’t sit here and wait for him to come rescue me from my own torment so I do it myself, hand coming to the doorknob and before I can psych myself out, I fling the door open.

To my shock, I’m immediately met with Azriel’s figure, his hand up like he was just about to knock.

“You couldn’t even let me make an entrance?” He tilts his head and I roll my eyes. “Shut up and kiss me already,” I grab him by the collar of his leathers and pull him in, the door closing behind him as his lips crash onto mine yet again.

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[anm3mi]

BAD HABIT ─ NETEYAM ⊹ ִֶָ

contents. fem!reader, hidden injury, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, confession

notes. this is crap, but i wanted to post something for my birthday as a gift to myself, also i didn't mean to do lo'ak so dirty in this, i'm sorry💀

the scene below rapidly evolved, full of fire, explosions, gun fire and loud war cries. harshly biting the inside of your cheek, you silently wish you could help your people in the fight, but you couldn't. you were ordered to only observe, not engage, and as a warrior, you had no other choice than to obey commands.

as the grip on your ikran tightened, you let out a shallow breath, soon interrupted from your thoughts by the duo on your side. "bro," lo'ak called out, his eyes switching between neteyam and you. the trio that was rarely seen apart. a few years ago, thanks to your own reckless behaviour, you quickly became friends with lo'ak, and soon neteyam came into the picture.

when the two of you were younger, you would often sneak out with lo'ak, messing around and causing trouble. but as you matured, you came to the realization that was not the way a warrior should behave. you realized you had people to protect, and with that, you begun to work on your behaviour, becoming less careless and more thoughtful about your actions. deep down, you were still a free-spirited child, curious to discover everything there was to, but you had people to depend on you and you couldn't disappoint them.

with your new mindset, you got into arguements with lo'ak more and more, as you became more like his brother, neteyam. always obeying the rules, being the perfect little warrior. you would no longer sneak out and mess around every night, instead, you would spend most of your time training.

neteyam took a notice of the obvious change between lo'ak and his friend. after witnessing one of your fights, neteyam carefully approached you, as you were more than glad to have somebody to rant to about the younger sully brother. from that moment, it didn't take long for the two of you to grew closer. it started with simple conversations about lo'ak, because even though he'll forever have a special place in your heart, he knew how to get on both your and neteyam's nerves.

after spending more time together, lo'ak was no longer the main topic of your conversations. you would talk about you interests, ideas, neteyam's duty as an older brother and your goal of becoming a warrior. and even though you were working on acting more mature, sometimes you needed at least a bit of freedom and to feel like a kid again, which lead you to talking neteyam into sneaking out. after reminding you countless times of how that was not a good idea, he gave in. but instead of running around the forest, causing trouble like neteyam expected, the two of you sat down on a patch of grass underneath a big tree and talked about the future.

after that night, you couldn't help but feel bad, as sneaking out to the woods in the middle of the night was your and lo'ak's thing, but you made sure to make it up for him. soon, the trio became less irritable when together. because even with all the heated arguments and disagreements, there were moments where the three of you would forget your differences. you adored those rare memories the most.

"we have to get down there!" lo'ak demanded. "no!" "no way, dad would skin us!" you and neteyam shouted over one another with clear disapprove written on your faces, as lo'ak glanced between the two of you once again, holding back a small smirk. you recognized the expression little too well. "lo'ak--" but before you could even finish your sentence, the younger brother was already descending towards the ground. without wasting a single second, the grip on your ikran tightened and you followed lo'ak, ignoring the now distant calls of your name coming from neteyam. even though you've tried to change - there were still moments where you wouldn't think before acting.

abandoning your ikran, you desperately looked around, clutching your bow close to your chest, after loosing sight of lo'ak. a lump formed inside your throat, but before you could let the uneasy feeling sink in, you gulped down and took a deep breath, letting out a war cry. you managed to catch the attention of a nearby human, who wasted no time, before pointing his weapon at you

but you were quicker.

within seconds, an arrow landed in the middle of the soldier's chest, causing him to drop on the ground with a thud. your chest was filled with pride, as you took out another arrow, scanning your surroundings. the sudden shout of your name caused you to snap your head around towards the source, your face lighting up at the sight of lo'ak, who had a huge grin on his face as he held a rifle and neteyam, who appeared almost relieved at the sight of you. running up to them, you let out a long breath you were holding, quickly throwing your arms around the two boys' head and bringing them closer.

your three heads butted against each other's. "we have to get out of here, before we get in more trouble." neteyam loudly announced over your loud surroundings, glaring at lo'ak. "we are already in trouble." shrugging your shoulders, you begun to back away, taking out one more of your arrows, grinning at the two brothers. the three of you were already disobeying the commands, so why not help your people while you were at it?

neteyam quickly followed, grabbing you by your forearm to stop you, almost sending you crashing into his chest, as you looked up to meet his eyes. before either of you could say anything, an explosion went off. your body harshly colliding with the ground was the last thing you felt, before everything went blank.

it didn't take long before you regained your senses. the first thing you noticed was the intense ringing in your ears, as you placed your hands on the hard earth, grounding yourself. harshly blinking your blurry vision away, you lifted yourself up from the ground way too quickly, causing you to stumble forward a bit, yet you managed to stay on your feet. a sudden way of pain coming from you lower abdomen caused you to let out a groan, but you choose to ignore it.

instead, you glanced around in a search of your weapon. you managed to find neteyam first. unconscious neteyam. with wide eyes, you let out a quick gasp, before stumbling to where his body laid. you fell down to your knees, ignoring your own pain, as you desperately scanned neteyam's entire body for any serious injuries. you let out a long shaky breath, when you didn't find any fatal ones.

gently placing your head on top of his chest in relief, you muttered his name, earning a low groan in response. your head shot up, noticing neteyam's eyes fluttering open. "hey, you're okay. you're okay..." you lifted your hands off his chest, muttering assuring words more to yourself than neteyam. opening your mouth to speak, you placed neteyam's arm over your shoulders as carefully as possible, but was soon interrupted.

"neteyam! y/n!" at the harsh loud call of your names, you looked towards the source of the sound, noticing jake quickly making his way towards the two of you. shit, you mentally cursed to yourself. "what the hell are you two doing here?!" kneeling down, jake eyed neteyam just like you did barely a minute ago, before taking him off you and throwing him over his shoulders. "i'm sorry- i'm sorry..." neteyam begun to mutter under his breath, yet got no response.

you quickly followed, but the burning sting on your stomach caused you to stop dead in your tracks. for the first time since you woke up, you decided to take a look at your injury. a hiss escaped your lips, when you noticed a long gash along your abdomen. placing your hand over the bleeding injury, hiding it, you bit your lower lip, almost drawing blood.

catching up with jake and neteyam, you were hit with a sudden realization. "where's lo'ak?!" you cried out, worry lacing your tone. "he's already on his way back." announcing, jake got on his ikran, still holding neteyam. you were able to swallow the lump forming in your throat, but what you weren't able to simply shake off was the uneasy feeling building up inside your stomach.

the last few minutes felt like a blur. there was fire everywhere, followed by constant war cries and shouting. you gulped down, as the adrenaline slowly, yet surely died down.

you called out for your ikran, one of your hands still on your stomach, while following behind jake and neteyam. you had no idea what to worry about first - lo'ak, neteyam or the fact all three of you were in huge trouble with jake, the toruk makto himself. the person that has been giving you orders for the past years and the person that took you under his wing, helping to raise you, when your parents weren't available, which happened quite often as they were busy with their own duties. to you the sully's were like your family you deeply cared for.

jumping off your ikran with a grunt, you patted the side of your ikran's head, before turning your attention towards the commotion. you awkwardly made your way towards jake, who was already scolding lo'ak and neteyam, with neytiri, kiri and tuk standing near them, ignoring how light-headed you felt. "you're supposed to be spotters!" angrily pointing his finger at neteyam, jake explained as lo'ak joined his brother's side, both of their eyes stuck on the ground.

"jesus, i let you three geniuses join a mission and you disobey direct orders!" you now stood beside lo'ak, your eyes switching between the ground, the brothers beside you and jake. eyes meeting neteyam's, you furrowed your brows - silently asking him if he was alright. in response, he sent a small nod your way, as you did the same to assure him. biting your tongue so hard you could taste metal inside your mouth, you were barely paying attention to what jake was saying, as you tried to stop your heavy eyelids from falling down. the pain started to become unbearable, as your knees were shaking.

"ma jake, your son is really bleeding." neytiri gave her mate a look. "mother, it's nothing--" shaking his head from side to side, neteyam stuttered. as he averted his gaze from his father, you managed to catch his eyes. his brows furrowed in confusion at the notice of your strange state, but before he could question it, jake begun to talk again.

"and you y/n," jake held back a sigh. "i expected this from lo'ak, but you? i'm disappointed." his words echoed inside your mind, as you looked at jake through your eyelashes. "i'm sorry, sir. i--" your words were slurred and before you could even finished your sentence, your head spun and you harshly fell to the ground.

the last thing you heard before blacking out was neteyam's call of your name. as you fell to the ground, your hand fell to the side, exposing the still bleeding injury. at the sight, jake's eyes widened. "get her inside!" he ordered, and neteyam wasted no time before picking you up as gently as possible, carrying you inside the healing hut, where his brother was already being healed.

"what happened?" with a worried expression, lo'ak called out. "she's loosing blood, she needs help. immediately. " jake explained, not taking his eyes off the your unconscious form. you were placed on the floor, as mo'at begun to take care of your wound. "is she going to be okay?" glancing at his grandma, neteyam demanded, but got no answer.

"bro," placing a hand on his shoulder, lo'ak murmured. neteyam glanced over his shoulder at lo'ak's unreadable expression. shaking his head from side to side, neteyam swiftly pushed his brother's hand away, "this is your fault." neteyam pointed his finger at lo'ak's chest, before storming off. "neteyam!" kiri shouted after him, but her calls fell on deaf ears. quickly picking up a few supplies, she hurried after her brother. after all, he was still injured and needed to be taken care of.

"she's going to be alright, i feel it." kiri softly announced, after finding her brother. he wasn't far from the hut, already feeling guilty for leaving your side. "she's strong." kiri added. "she followed him. she followed lo'ak down to the battlefield." trying to swallow the guilt, neteyam looked up at his younger sister. he only felt more guilty after realising she was hiding her injury from them. from him. "you know y/n, she doesn't want us to worry about her. always putting others first." kiri sat down next to her brother, nudging his side, thinking about your bad habit of putting needs of others first. "she's amazing, isn't she?" a smirk made its way onto kiri's face. "yeah," letting out a long breath, neteyam simply agreed. "she is."

"now let me help you." pulling her supplies closer, kiri announced, earning a quick nod from neteyam, as he turned his back to her. a hiss escaped his lips, when kiri harshly pressed on his wound. "sorry." she muttered, but neteyam knew she didn't really mean it. it was his sister's way of calling him stupid for obeying direct orders from their father.

"the first thing she did when we arrived was asking me, if i was okay. me." neteyam sharply inhaled at the burning sensation, as kiri smeared a paste along his injuries. "you should talk to her. i'm pretty sure y/n has something to say as well." shrugging her shoulders, kiri announced. silence fell over the two siblings, as kiri continued to mend his wound and neteyam sat in silence, confusion smeared across his face upon hearing kiri's words.

the day was long gone, as the stars now occupied the night sky. the village was quiet, everyone peacefully asleep in their homes - everyone except for neteyam. after kiri took care of his own wounds, he made a straight beeline towards the healing tent, as he was met with your unconscious body, your injury now stitched up and covered.

slowly, he sat down next to you, his grandmother's presence going unnoticed by him, until she decided to speak; "she needs to rest for two weeks. the cut was quite deep." mo'at suddenly explained, almost startling neteyam. he looked at her with widened eyes, as she continued to grind herbs together, before glancing back at you. "she won't like hearing that." neteyam admitted, earning a simple hum from his grandmother in response.

mo'at exited the tent in silence, leaving neteyam and you alone. carefully, neteyam took your hand and placed it in his lap, as his thumb caressed over your bruised knuckles. he was rarely seen like this - uneasy, lost deep in his own thoughts and neteyam was aware of the affect you had on him. the way his stomach would flutter with butterflies at your simple touch or the way his heart would beat hard against his ribcage when you were in danger. as much as neteyam preferred to be in denial about it, he knew he was head over heels for you.

and with how deeply he cared for you, he couldn't help, but be a bit angry. not only at lo'ak, but you as well. if you wouldn't have followed his brother into the battlefield, you wouldn't be injured - you wouldn't have to hide your injury, which was another thing that upset him. letting out a long shaky breath, neteyam gently placed his head on your thigh - the only part of your body that was uninjured, and with your hand still in his, he soon fell asleep.

the eclipse was near and his parents grew worried. they knew where their son was, but most importantly, they knew no matter the amount of pursuing, he wouldn't leave your side - not until you woke and the two of you could finally talk.

his slumber was interrupted by a murmur of his name, as he let out a small groan in response. "neteyam, i can't feel my leg." this time, you spoke more clearly, startling the boy awake. with wide eyes, neteyam looked down at you, before glancing towards your leg, where he managed to fall asleep. "y/n! i'm sorry--" "it's fine, just next time please don't use my legs as your personal pillow." your voice was hoarse, laced with sleepiness. leaning onto your elbows, you attempted to sit up, but neteyam's hands gently pushed you back down at the sound of a painful hiss coming from you. "you're on a bed rest. two weeks." he announced, earning a scoff in response from you. "yeah, no." you muttered, before rubbing your tired eyes. your whole body was sore and in pain, yet all you yearned to do was get up and properly stretch.

"neteyam?" raising a brow, you glanced to your side at the boy, who was staring at you with an unreadable expression. "neteyam, what is--" you opened your mouth to speak, but was interrupted: "you didn't tell me." he suddenly declared. "what?" you attempted to sit up once again, and this time there was no pair of hands stopping you, as neteyam held his hands back. "when we came back yesterday, you didn't tell me. you didn't tell any of us." neteyam continued to explain, while you carefully studied your bandaged injury. his was voice low, yet stern - almost emotionless.

"you could've died, y/n." upon hearing the sudden crack in his voice, you froze. finally, you peeled your eyes away from your body and met his eyes. tears were threatening to spill, yet neteyam used all his remaining strength to not let them. "you need to stop following lo'ak, because then it ends up with one of you being injured and me having to clean up the mess." neteyam blurted out, yet soon regret his words at the sight of your hurt expression.

"is this what this is about?" you insisted, fury lacing your tone. "i am not one of your responsibilities, neteyam." the way you said his name with such venom caused his stomach to tighten. "i didn't ask you to cover for me, i can take care of myself. as you can see - i am alive, so i don't see why you're still here--" ignoring the burning pain across your body, you continued to rant, irritated by your sore body, headache and the guilt you felt.

"because i care about you!" silence fell over the hut, as you could only hear the echo of his words. with glossy eyes, you stared into his, before biting your tongue. "yesterday, when you fell unconscious, for a second i thought you were going to die and-" neteyam begun to explain, his eyes switching between yours and the floor. you slowly realized this was the first time you saw neteyam almost nervous during a conversation, unable to keep eye contact and stammering. that was the affect you had on him - you made him nervous, in a good way, of course. but you also made him scared. scared of loosing you.

"-and i didn't know what to do. i felt so guilty for not trying harder to stop you from following lo'ak and i still do." your expression softened, as you felt your heart tug. "neteyam..." you softly whispered, as you reached to hesitantly cup his face with your hand. "i'm sorry for worrying you, i truly am." your eyes did not once leave his, as honesty laced each of your words. neteyam's eyes stared into yours, before bringing his hands up and placing it above yours that still caressed his face - his skin burning upon your comforting touch. "i care about you, too, you know?" you added, voice barely above a whisper.

without a word, neteyam slowly nodded in response. "never scare me like that again, please." pressing his forehead against yours, he whispered. biting the inside of your cheek, you mentally braced yourself, as your heart beated harshly against your ribcage - threating to escape any second. closing your eyes, you quickly pecked neteyam's lips. "i won't." opening your eyes, you were met with the sight of neteyam's flustered and shocked expression at what you couldn't help, but grin.

"do it again..." he whispered, slightly leaning closer, his hand sneaking towards the back of your neck. "what was that? i couldn't quite hear you, nete." you teased, your thumb caressing his cheek. "kiss me again, please." with determined, yet soft eyes - neteyam repeated his words. you let out a small chuckle, before leaning in once again. this time - it wasn't a simple peck. your shared kiss was filled with comforting warmth, as your stomach went crazy with butterflies, just as neteyam's.

as you pulled away, neteyam unconsciously chased after your lips, causing a heartfelt chuckle to rise from your throat. your geninue moment was interrupted by a sudden painful hiss. with wide eyes, neteyam's hands left your body with the worry of hurting you, before searching your body for any source of pain. using the palm of your hand, you covered your wound carefully, the harsh movement of your body disturbing in.

"i'm okay." eyes shot closed, you let out a shaky breath through gritted teeth, assuring neteyam, yet he didn't seem convinced. "you have to rest." neteyam announced, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. in response, you rolled your eyes and let out a small groan. "i don't know if i can just lay here for two weeks." you admitted, before laying down. neteyam followed, resting on his side next to you. "well, you have no choice." with a small smile, neteyam explained, as you suppressed another eye roll.

"promise you'll visit me?" looking at him through your eyelashes, you asked. "of course i will." neteyam assured, causing you to let out a small, relived breath. silence fell over the hut - but it wasn't uneasy, rather comforting, as you carefully studied neteyam's features up close, before you felt your eyelids become heavy. even with your eyes closed, you could sense neteyam's eyes glued to you and you could feel your face burning underneath his stare.

"i really like you, nete. you know that, right?" you muttered through a yawn. "i know, y/n, i like you too." shyly, neteyam admitted, softly caressing the top of your head. the corners of your lips tugged into small, as neteyam's expression mirrored yours. using one of his arms to support his head, his other one was lightly placed over you - the two of you asleep within minutes. you knew the next couple of weeks are going to be rough, you still had to scold lo'ak and apologize to the sully's for scaring them, but now, you could only savor the moment with neteyam you were in.

[thevirginwitch]

City Magic: Painted Rock Wards

This post was released a week early over on my Patreon! You can subscribe for free to be notified of important projects announcements, or subscribe for as little as $2 a month to gain early access to my content, exclusive access to research/reading notes, and free digital goodies! Your support means the world to me and helps me to continue doing what I love.

We’ve all seen those pretty painted rocks over on Pinterest, right? These bad boys? Or perhaps you’ve even seen them around your neighborhood/public parks.

Traditionally, these are meant to be painted (sometimes with words of encouragement) and left in public spaces for people to take home, as an act of kindness. Some others paint them for their garden, either to deter pests with vibrant colors, or they’re used to label whatever’s in their garden.

Now, if you live in a big city, you probably have felt a disconnect from your craft or your practice. It’s difficult to connect with a nature-oriented spirituality, such as witchcraft, when you live in a concrete jungle! But there are many, many ways to feel connected to your craft, even if you don’t live in the middle of the woods or have a lot of nature around you. One of these ways is to connect with your neighborhood.

Your neighborhood has mass significance to your life, whether you realize it or not: this is where you live, where you work, where you breathe, where you practice your craft – you must make yourself known, and make the neighborhood known to yourself as well. One of the best ways to do this is to take walks!

Whenever you’re ready, take a walk through your neighborhood and bring a map, notebook, and a pen. As you walk, observe the behaviors of the residents around you. Do they seem to be struggling with anything? What kind of people are they like? Write these characteristics down. If you notice any parts of your neighborhood that evoke any specific emotions (such as unease, happiness, peace, or anxiety), mark them on your map. You might also notice some “problem areas” – perhaps some patches of the road or sidewalk are horribly paved and need to be repaired, or there’s a lot of loud dogs constantly barking at the end of your block. Mark these areas on your map as well, and report back to your home when you are ready.

Picking Your Purpose

Now that we’ve identified a few “problems” and made observations within your neighborhood, we can decide what we want to do. Do you want to protect against thieves? Ward against illness for one of your elderly neighbors? This is the time to select the primary purpose for your ward.

Picking The Area

Take the map that you marked up during your walk. Connect any common points you see (for example, connect up the "peaceful" areas you marked on your map, or connect any points that have a common theme). What kind of shape does it have? Does it remind you of any popular symbols? Can you use the general shape of the area to generate a sigil or symbol that represents the area? What area(s) would most benefit from your rock wards?

Here is an example of how I created a sigil from a fictional city map I found! Obviously, play around with this idea until it makes sense to you. You can connect up different routes, or perhaps create a border around the areas that feel safest to you.

Now is the time you also want to pick where you want to place your wards - you can use your neighborhood sigil to influence where you place them, or, place them based on intuition or based on need. For example, placing a rock ward at the end of the noisiest block, or in the middle of the block that has the most number of children in the area.

Creating and Using Your Sigils/Symbols

Now, you want to develop symbols or sigils for your purpose. You can use any method you’d like! You may wish to incorporate your neighborhood sigil into each one you create, but ultimately the design is up to you. This is also the point where you would “charge” your sigil, with whatever method you see fit - as long as the design, intention, and charging method makes sense to you, that’s all that matters!

Painting Your Rocks

Finally, onto the fun part!

Now, you could simply paint your sigils on your rock and call it a day. Or, you could paint your sigil, and layer a more “mundane” piece of artwork on top of the sigil, leaving the sigil hidden underneath. This technique works best if the “mundane” artwork connects with the ward’s purpose in some way (for example, if your ward is for protection against nosy neighbors, you could paint eyes; or if your ward is for health, you could paint green colors, or even a red cross). I definitely recommend this “layering” method of painting your rocks so no one in your neighborhood ends up reporting any “suspicious looking rocks” with “satanic symbols” on them to your local Facebook groups!

Materials

acrylic paint

rocks

paint brushes

toothpicks (optional)

paint markers

outdoor/water-proof sealant such as Mod Podge: Outdoor

Instructions

Lay out your rocks and other materials

Seal your rocks with a coat or two of your sealant before you begin painting. This is an important step, since rocks are porous and will suck up any paint you try to apply!

Paint your rocks to your heart's content! If you are layering paint on your rocks, please make sure each layer is dry before painting the next.

Once your rocks are completely dry, seal them up with your outdoor/water-proof sealant so they don't get damaged in the elements.

Lastly, take another trip through your neighborhood to place your rocks. Converse with the neighbors if you feel inclined, and make double-sure of the locations you chose for your wards. I recommend taking regular walks throughout your neighborhood to check on these wards, and make sure they’re doing their job. You may wish to refresh the wards with a new coat of paint, or replace them with something new if the situations within the neighborhood change.

Ultimately, magic is what you make it, especially when you live in a big city. Warding your neighborhood and showing care for the people that live there is one of the many ways you can connect to your neighborhood on a deeper level and feel more connected to your practice locally.

Recommended further reading: Urban Magick by Diana Rajchel

[devilfic]

❝right place, right time❞

V. curiosity killed the cat.

parts: previously / next plot: when else would you get a chance like this? pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, suggestive content, you're awfully nosy aren't you. words: 6.2k.

a/n: trying out something new with headers. also, hey! it's been three months! I did not realize! I am so sorry!

If you were to recall any other time you'd stood in the middle of your apartment, blindfolded, while a strange man you didn't know undressed for you, you'd come up a little bit empty. You were failing to accept that there was ever a time at all, let alone one happening right now.

But you can't look. You have to listen to the shuffle of clothing, the small grunts and heaves of breath, the maneuvering about your home that carries a breeze to your heated skin. Seconds pass where there is no movement at all, not even an exhale, and then, "C'mere."

You stumble forward and immediately bump your shin against your coffee table—the good shin, the one that isn't cut up in ribbons—earning a sharp "tsk" from your guest that has you flushing. You reach up to your makeshift blindfold and tug it off.

To say you were... probably not supposed to see this was an understatement. You're distracted by two trains of thought, the first being his upper body. Batman is half-sitting on the edge of your kitchen table while his under suit hangs from his waist. Every line and curve is sculpted like a meticulously maintained statue. You follow the deep divots of his collarbones, the swell of his chest, the soft yet defined skin of his torso with each ripple a sign of his strength. His cowl is still in place, and even his gloves remain.

And also, though you'd never tell him this, he looked pretty damn good.

The second thought is that he has more pressing concerns than an old gunshot wound. There are bruises littered all across his upper body, signs of fights that were too heavy-handed. You tried to imagine the force it would take to really, really hurt him under that armor. How a bullet had passed through what should be impenetrable.

The first time you'd had his skin exposed to you, it had barely been anything. A cut hole in his suit, just enough room to focus on the blood and the flesh. You hadn't even thought about it.

Now, beneath all the broken, mottled skin was the evidence of the last three years at work. Between the muscle and size of him, you were beginning to understand why he didn't take his health as seriously as you did.

Batman watches you, head tilted to the floor. One arm props him up on the table and his other hand rests over his knee. His upper armor lay discarded on the table behind him along with his utility belt. He doesn't blink as you approach, doesn't bother saying anything first. He has an intense look on him at all times and it's no different now. Even if he's trusted you enough to bare this part of himself to you, you could see the tension in him. He was prepared to fight if it came down to it.

You don't want that. You clasp your hands in front of you, shrinking yourself down like you were facing a fetterless beast because that's the best approach you've got, "Can I touch you?"

His eyes dilate. He hadn't been expecting you to ask that. You'd already touched him before without asking, had shared plenty of touch before. He moves the arm holding him up so that you can get a better look.

There is a small patch of raised skin on his side that you're delighted to find free of stitches, healing over. You press a finger to the area beneath the healing wound, feather-light. "It's looking a lot better," you begin, glancing up, "though I wish you'd keep it wrapped a little longer." You try not to let your fingers wander too much, regardless of the mind they had of their own, "How'd the bullet break the Kevlar? From what I've seen, that's pretty tough stuff from a distance."

Batman grunts when you press into a bruise on his rib cage, apparently the freshest of them all. You apologize, but he pays you no mind, "There wasn't any distance. They got close and kept shooting until it broke."

"Not to be morbid, but why didn't they just go for the head?"

Batman huffs again, though it sounds more like a laugh this time, "You don't think they tried?"

The image of him on the ground and a gangster with a gun towering over him, fighting to get in a lethal shot springs to your mind. You imagine his hands gripped around the barrel, forcing it from between the eyes, down and away until they just starts letting off every bullet in the mag until- "Oh."

He grunts again.

Despite the fact that he'd come close to death, he hardly looked bothered. You'd lived a life like that, and there wasn't a day that went by where you weren't baffled by the sheer stupidity of your youth. Maybe if you'd been smarter back then, had more self-preservation, you would have stopped much sooner.

Now look at you. A man with a gun threatens your life once and suddenly your whole world is thrown off kilter.

You're not actually looking at his bullet wound anymore. You're looking at his bruises. "You don't have doctors, right? So what happens when you... break a bone? How do you explain all this to an ER nurse?"

"I never said that."

"Well, no. You just brooded and ignored me. Which I took for an answer."

"I don't go to hospitals. If I can't fix it myself, I find someone who can."

You remember the other part of that conversation, when he'd mentioned someone looking at his wound, "That person that checked you out last time?" Batman hums. "Are they like me?"

"...No." You think that's all he'll say, having given you more information than perhaps he'd have liked to, but he surprises you, "Not a doctor, but knows what to do. From experience."

That doesn't narrow down the picture of Batman's Nightingale at all. After all, any number of people in Gotham had knowledge like that just from living here. You also figure if he's lasted this long, they must know what they're doing, "I guess you don't really need me fussing over you after all."

He doesn't need to dignify that with a response, and if he were to, you'd expect him to agree. Perhaps throw in an "I told you so" if he was feeling particularly jovial. You don't expect the sincere, "I think you have the right after saving my life."

You laugh, "By that logic, you should be up my ass about taking care of myself. Scratch that, the whole city's ass."

"I am. Or I would've taken your invitation."

"How many times do I have to say that was a stupid move before you let it go?"

"It's only been half an hour. It's not even cold yet."

"I'm sorry, okay? I can't help..." You falter. What could you say? Your feelings bigger than your vocabulary, if you tried to imprison them in words, you worried they might scare him. Might scare you. The truth was that you trusted him. And his insistence that you shouldn't didn't stop you. "I told you when we first met that I believe in what you do for Gotham, that I want you to keep doing it. I meant that. It's why I fuss and why I left the window open, why I keep hoping you're there and why I hoped you'd come save me that night. I believe in the Batman and I believe that even underneath that, you're a good person. Am I wrong?"

Batman keeps your gaze. You'd give anything to know what he's thinking at any given moment, but especially now. Your desire to be understood comes at the cost of being exposed. You realize that in this situation, he knows so much more about you than you may ever know about him.

That kind of realization is terrifying. You can't take it back now.

Your next realization is that your hand is touching his stomach, more comfortable in its place than it reasonably should be. It'd been hovering there since he'd started telling you about getting shot, warm from his warmth. You don't immediately pull away.

Your hand moves with him when he draws in a breath, "It's not something you can call yourself."

"You're a good person. There. I said it." You tip your chin up in defiance.

"You don't know me."

Then let me, you want to say. "Then prove me wrong."

A tick passes. Then, Batman stands to his full height. Your hand naturally falls away as he zips his suit back up to the neck, then his hand goes for the shirt you'd discarded. It shouldn't shock you the second time, but you shiver when he pulls it taut around your head once more, careful not to catch your hair in the knot.

You listen for the growing familiarity of his grunts, the heavy effort of pulling his armor back over his body, the click of his utility belt about his waist, and then you await the return of his cowl but the noise stops there. Your hands hover in front of you with nothing to do, too afraid to remove the blindfold early but too afraid to break the tense silence.

So you stand there, back to him, waiting for him to give you the okay. You can feel his eyes on your back (all over, really) and a trickle of humiliation works its way up your spine the longer it goes on.

You hear noise again a minute later, though it's not the sound of him putting his cowl back on. It's his boots. He's walking toward you.

You're anticipating something, a touch or a whispered final farewell. A sillier, nervous part of you is anticipating his breath on the nape of your neck. Bending his head down. The heat of his chest against your back. You imagine him dipping his mouth to the curve of your throat and the image sends a tingle up your spine. You're not expecting your hand taken hostage and something slipped into your palm. It feels small and round along the sides. When you allow your fingers to collapse around it, it feels flat. Batman doesn't release your hand until you're holding it properly.

Then you hear him put on his cowl. Then you hear him leave.

Yanking off the blindfold, you're shocked to find that there's a phone in your hand. A flip-phone. It's a prepaid, a simple one you'd find at any bodega up and down your street. You try to imagine Batman of all people, in civilian clothing, walking into one of your neighborhood's haunts and buying this for you.

You flip open the phone and find that in the contacts list, there is only one: "For emergencies only".

Huh. Batman just gave you his number.

You do not hear from Bruce Wayne for a week.

After the papers are signed, you're told rather abruptly that he'll be flying overseas. Business, Alfred had said, and that you'd be expected to be at Wayne Manor the morning of his return for a checkup if you weren't called to Verona before the week's end. If your head hadn't started swimming with the idea, you would have had the wherewithal to be excited about it.

But seven days come and go and you're eventually standing in the penthouse, poking and prodding the man of the hour while Alfred watches on from afar.

Bruce is an obedient patient, if not a little robotic. Every answer is a "yes", "no", "just a little bit". He's in perfect physical health from what you can tell, from what he allows you to see with all his clothes on. The most of note is his visible tan, and halfway through the examination, you can't stop yourself from commenting on it, "How was Italy?"

It's the first question that isn't about his appetite or sleep, so he's not as quick to answer, "Fine. Warm."

"Must be nice. Did you enjoy the beaches?"

Alfred snorts so loudly that it redirects the attention of both of you, but he has his nose deep in tax statements when your eyes find the butler. Bruce looks a little annoyed when he answers you, "I didn't go. I was in meetings most of the week."

You frown, "It's that sunny in Verona?"

"Any sliver of sunlight has him turning colors." Alfred no doubt knows from humiliating experience, and while Bruce doesn't look very pleased, you're just thankful the butler feels in good enough spirits to joke with you. Perhaps now that the contract had been signed, he'd resigned to his fate that you were here to stay. At least until Bruce's mysterious interest in you dulled his rose-colored glasses.

You try to picture Bruce basking in the sun—the kind of sun that didn't find itself on this side of the world—and all you see are scenes right out of Baywatch, so uncharacteristic that you shake your head just to get rid of them.

"Any concerns?" You ask, and then you're reminded to look down at his hands in his lap. You can't help yourself from asking, "What about those?"

Bruce follows your line of sight to the scarring over his knuckles, dimmed some due to the tan. You watch his face the entire way, hopeful to catch him in a lie. He turns over his palm, looks at you through his lashes, and says, "No, I... I fight. On purpose. It's a hobby."

That catches you off guard. You thought someone with his bank account would be into golfing.

Bruce nods over in Alfred's direction when you don't respond, "Mixed martial arts. Alfred will tell you. He's been teaching me since I was ten."

Sure enough, Alfred is watching the two of you over the rim of his glasses, "Just the basics." He confirms.

It adds up, though you can't help questioning it, "Isn't that kind of a violent hobby? Seems pretty dangerous for the future CEO of a major corporation."

"It was self-defense first, then a... hobby." Alfred spits the last word out like a rotten tooth. "Trust you aren't the first to mention it, and surely won't be the last."

You frown, "Just so you know, I'm a general surgeon. Brain damage isn't my forte."

Bruce doesn't answer. He doesn't get the chance. Dory barely has a chance to announce the arrival of guests before they're flooding the living room with balloons, streamers, flower arrangements, and more. You're taken aback by the sheer extravagance. Was it someone's birthday? You look at Bruce for an answer, but it's Alfred who shoots up to welcome them in. You hear him instructing a group of musicians to a corner of the room that you've only now realized has been cleared away of the antiques that once held space there.

A man rushes past you, carrying a folded banner in hand, and another immediately follows with a ladder that almost knocks your things off the end table. You catch your bag and hold it to your chest.

"I'm sorry, the crew for the party is here early." Bruce sounds almost disappointed.

"Party?"

"For the mayor. I'm hosting a celebration tonight for the mayor's new deal passing." Bruce rolls down his shirt sleeve once he unwraps the blood pressure monitor and hands it back to you, rolling his shoulder as you begin to pack up.

"That's awfully kind of you." You comment, glancing at the array of gold and purple being carried in. "I should get out of your hair then-"

"Would you like to come?"

There he is again.

He had such a nervous energy about him all of a sudden. Someone with his power and prestige should believe they have the world in the palm of their hand (because he does), but every time he locks eyes with you, it's like it all falls away. In your presence, he's just a man and you hold all the power.

"I wouldn't want to intrude."

"You wouldn't. It's... supporters, donors, friends. Politicians and some press too but nothing too formal." Bruce must notice the way you shrivel because he's quick to add on, "There'll be wine. From Italy. And champagne. Not from Italy, but it adds variety."

If you didn't know any better, you'd say he wanted you to come.

And it wasn't that you weren't intrigued. You admired the mayor, and being a part of something like this was a once-in-a-lifetime offer. Donors meant money-makers like Bruce who, if going off their politician of choice, would be looking for causes to fund. You could practically hear your boss's heart break at even the idea that you'd turn this down.

It wasn't lost on you that your new position with Bruce Wayne had made you, accidentally, a spokesperson for the hospital. Missing the opportunity to milk the pockets of a few more billionaires would be a waste.

And Bruce... really seemed like he wanted you to come.

"Mr. Wayne," Dory's frail voice calls from the top floor, peering over the railing, "I need to speak with you about precautions for tonight."

Precautions?

Dory hurries back down the hallway without another word, and Bruce grows distracted. You think that he's forgotten all about convincing you to come to the party, but he turns to you one for one last second, "It's at eight. If you'd like to come."

And another thing: you'd have a good reason to snoop around Bruce Wayne's house.

"Nothing too formal" your ass.

You'd had the good sense to spot a rich person lying out of their ass and had dressed as nicely as you could for the occasion, clearly a good decision.

The gathering of guests are all comfortable an hour into the party and a few drinks in, too. You immediately sneak yourself a glass the moment Dory lets you in the door. Bruce is knee-deep in conversation with who you recognize to be a councilwoman, and you catch Alfred observing the party from the edge of the room while hired servers tend to the guests. Mayor Reál is sat on a couch with a glass of champagne in one hand and her suit coat thrown over the back. She's got a line of guests leaning in to hear her recount some story about a diplomat from out of town. You wouldn't have a chance to speak to her tonight, you feared.

Somehow, you find yourself gradually floating in Alfred's direction.

He pays you no mind, not obviously anyway, but he does start speaking once you're in earshot, "Master Wayne invited you?"

Your lips purse. You try not to take his words as the insult they sound like, though his emotionless stare past your person doesn't help his case, "I debated coming. He seemed to want me here."

This gets him to look at you. Then, he turns away again, scanning the party for any signs of disorder. You noticed the tension in his shoulders almost immediately. Even if he didn't want to be friendly, that wouldn't stop you, "I can only imagine how nerve-wracking this must be."

Alfred furrows his brow. "I beg your pardon?"

"Letting strangers handle your fine glasses. God forbid someone trips."

A few moments of silence pass between you and your throat threatens to close up thinking your joke didn't land, but eventually, Alfred huffs, "That would be Dory's concern. That woman is very serious about the dishware."

Dory didn't look it. Greeting everyone with bright smiles and instructing them into the main room, she was more relaxed than Alfred was. "Then what's yours?"

The butler looks down to the side at you, but doesn't bother turning his head in your direction. He clearly didn't want the chance to miss anything, but the guests were behaving. "Someone ending up where they don't belong."

Perhaps that was why he was guarding the staircase with his life. Upstairs, you imagined, was where Bruce slept. Perhaps it was where the late Mr. and Mrs. Wayne had slept once upon a time too. If anyone were to disturb their belongings, you imagined this would be the last time a party was held in the penthouse.

But that got you thinking, "Do you hold parties often?"

"No. Never. This was all Master Wayne's idea, though I can't say it wasn't sudden."

Never was a strong response. Emily knew his shut-in status more intimately than you, but from what you saw, he did just fine on TV. He's got that interview smile on right now, cordial and fair. He laughs at the right times and makes sure to nod often enough so that his conversation partners know he's listening. He looks completely normal when you're not around. Excruciatingly normal. A picture of a proper businessman, billionaire, and bachelor. A man who should have been hosting parties weekly like the Gatsby that was expected of him.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

The way he tip-toed around you was the only proof you had that all of this was just as weird as it felt, that he knew this setup was out of the ordinary. That there was more to this than he or anyone else was telling you. A near-death experience had ushered him into the light of day and had put you right next to him. Maybe this was his version of Eat, Pray, Love.

A crash is heard from some distant part of the house and you see Alfred visibly tense. He looks uneasy to abandon his post, but you set your glass on a windowsill and take a step up the stairs, "I can keep watch until you get back."

Alfred looks skeptical, though another crash is all that's needed to convince him. He holds out a hand to the upstairs, "No one is allowed on the second floor. Understood?"

You nod, just shy of standing to attention and saluting. He rushes off without further convincing.

Your eyes naturally find Bruce again.

He's now in conversation with Mayor Reál and three other politicians all vying for his attention, though it's only she who seems to actually hold it. It's painstakingly obvious that they've seen what his dollars can do, and getting an endorsement from the newly emerged billionaire would do their campaigns wonders, but Bruce doesn't seem convinced of them.

And, if you were honest, it was a good sign.

Despite how little you were yet to understand about him as a person, you did know these politicians. You'd seen their campaign ads and the thinly veiled attempts at distracting from their shady pasts. Many of them had been in office alongside Mayor Mitchell. Many of them had rebranded, denounced him entirely after the Riddler debacle, if only to save face. There was no doubt in your mind that most of them had known about it, if not had their fingers in the pie.

Batman had promised you he wasn't corrupt. You had to believe him. You had to take his word for it.

Reminded of the caped crusader, your hand falls to your pocket to feel for the phone nestled there. Ever since the Batman had given it to you, you'd kept it charged and on you at all times, anxiously waiting for a call or a text or something.

But you hadn't seen or heard from him in a few days. If he was out there, he at least wasn't getting hurt, and that should have overjoyed you. It should have. It just... could also mean something else.

You slip the phone out of your pocket and confirm your suspicions. No messages, no missed calls.

The phone should have put you at ease, reassured you, but all it did was make you restless. Waiting for it to ring, wondering if it had and you'd missed it. You force it back into your pocket before you can fuss over it anymore than usual, and that's when you catch the sound of metal clanging against metal. It's distinct. It's coming from the second floor hallway.

Shit.

You rush up the stairs none too carefully, cursing that you couldn't take them two by two, and when you finally get to the second floor, the banging only grows louder. A glance back at the party assures you no one else is following.

It takes a turn down another hallway before you see a drunken couple standing at an iron gate, one holding their heels and drink in hand and the other positioning a fire poker over the latch. As soon as you spot them, the one with the fire poker drives it into the padlock on the handle and snaps it right off.

"Hey!" You call, and the two of them look to you, giggling like school children. The one with the fire poker puts it to the side, flashing you with a too-straight smile that is meant to put you at ease. It does nothing of the sort. "You can't be up here."

"Sorry, we were trying-" She hiccups, giggling into her hand, "-we were trying to get to the roof, but this place is fucking huge."

The closer you get, you realize that the gate is sealing off an elevator shaft. There's only one button, however, and it points downward.

Sweeping the broken padlock off the floor, the couple shuffle out of your way. "Well, this isn't it, but I'm sure if you ask the nice British man downstairs how to get there, he'll tell you." And then, for good measure, "And don't tell him you were up here or you're never coming back."

The two of them look sober enough to understand, but they're still enjoying themselves as they make their way back downstairs. You watch them go the entire way. If they didn't heed your warning, you'd get the brunt of his anger over this.

You set the padlock down on a nearby table and pick up the fire poker, unsure where they would've snatched it from. You only hoped they hadn't sneaked into any of the rooms to get it.

And then, you wonder where the hell this leads to.

There's the elevator at the front door, the one that each and every one of you had arrived in, but when you pull back the iron gate and peek inside, there aren't any floor numbers. There's two buttons: one that goes up, and one that goes down.

The inside shakes when you step in. For a moment, you wonder if it had been locked because it was out of order, and your heart drops to your stomach thinking that it might drop down a height of sixty stories all at once, but it steadies eventually. It's clear it hasn't been changed, just one part of a fitting antique carved into the other world that is Wayne Tower.

There's a weak white light that buzzes overhead and those two buttons. Curiosity itches.

Whatever was down there, whatever this thing led to, the Waynes didn't want anyone to find it. The "precautions" Dory had mentioned came to mind.

But if they didn't want anyone to find it, why throw a party here where two stupid drunks could wander off and break into it?

You're sure Alfred didn't imagine anyone would come at it with a fucking fire poker, but it had been that easy.

Your eyes burn into the button. That'd be so easy, too.

If you gave into your desire, allowed yourself to push it and someone found you, you'd be fired. You could be stripped of your license for violation of patient privacy, enough HIPAA rules broken in the time it takes to satiate your curiosity. Wayne Enterprises would sue you into oblivion. Jersey would no longer be a question. Nothing would save you.

But there was something down there that you needed to see. You knew it. Felt it like claws burrowing into the wrinkles of your brain.

Your finger twitched at your side and you saw Bruce's face in your mind, all sad eyes and something hidden beneath his skin. He'd wanted you to come, wanted you to work for him—clearly against Alfred's better judgement—and he would trust you not to go any further. Even though he doesn't know you.

Some indignant part of you thinks that isn't your problem.

That same indignant part of you, the part that had convinced you to run with wolves as a teenager, gave in.

The elevator kicked up, so loud you worried everyone in the party could hear it, but then it began its descent with its steady whirring. You held on tight as it dropped floor after floor after floor after floor.

It must've been twenty years or maybe a minute and a half. The elevator comes to a shaky stop. A door outside the gate slides open, revealing... darkness. Absolute, all-consuming darkness.

The meager light above you does very little to light your way as your heart jumps into your throat, regret bubbling up in your chest. You can hear small chittering sounds from within the darkness and dripping like leaky pipes. You're hesitant to pull back the gate, more than eager to leave this a mystery unsolved. You're not entirely sure that if you were to step out into the abyss, you wouldn't fall into Hell's mouth.

But then, light fills up the darkness.

Giant, white stage lights flicker on one by one straight ahead and the first thing you see is a car covered by tarp, elevated on a platform at the heart of the room. There are tools laid haphazardly around the ramps, as if whoever had left them there had abandoned them in a hurry. You can't see much else from this angle except a grungy, muddy mountain bike with its helmet hanging off the handle.

A garage. The big, scary void was a garage. Your heart falls back into place with a dusting of shame crawling up your neck.

You're about to take yourself back to the penthouse when you startle at the sound of a voice—no, voices—echoing off the walls of the garage. None of it makes sense at first; the discussion starts up like you'd just walked into earshot, as if they'd been talking the entire time and you'd only just started paying attention.

You touch a hand to the gate and peek further into the room, pushing it back to let you out. You're cautious, eyes flitting to and fro to find the source of the voices, but all you see are tables and computer screens and a TV just a ways away from you, having flicked on with the power. Seconds later, you recognize the voices. Newscasters. News 7 WGOT to be exact.

What really captures your attention is the darkness that hadn't been chased away by the lights. There are sconces all along the walls that keep the main area lit, an area you realize looks an awful lot like a subway terminal, but they cease at the cutoff of the platform. The lights are bright enough to show some of what lies ahead: train tracks.

You step further into the room, examining the peculiarities: a car engine here, a microscope there, subwoofers packed on top of subwoofers, tables and desks and computer screens everywhere.

A desk near the center of the room catches your eyes next. There are radio transmitters, files, and lamps scattered about the surface. None of it resembles the pristine study upstairs, what you assumed was Bruce's personal base of operations. No, this desk looked lived in. The two or three empty mugs lined up by a table leg tells you as much.

What kind of business could a CEO get done down here? The place smelled of mildew and you could feel the vibrations of trains running above ground.

Your eyes flicker over a leather-bound journal and a handful of folders, your eyes catching on names that only sort of tickle your brain. Names you've heard recently. Names you've heard upstairs. Did he have files on everyone at the party? The level of detail wasn't surprising, not for someone with his kind of position. You doubted he would take a chance on anyone that he invited after last year.

You brush a thumb over one when you catch a name that you don't recognize as quickly. Ironic. It belongs to you.

You snatch the file without thinking, flipping open the cover to see your headshot scanned off your medical ID badge, but there are other photos. One of you and the rest of your department, another of you mid-handshake with the Dean of your alma mater. Publicly available stuff. Except for one you've never seen before. It's candid, though the heavy beating of your heart in your ears is making it hard to determine when it could've been taken. It looks recent. Somewhere outside of Gotham General. You were still in scrubs, completely unaware.

With these types, it wasn't unusual to hire a private investigator before hiring on a complete stranger, let alone one who managed your very life and well-being. You kept telling yourself that, swallowing down the rising unease in your gut, when you made the mistake of turning the page.

There was a picture there that no one should have access to. Your fingers shook as they ghosted over the black and white image, the shock in your eyes, the barely captured tremor in your jaw.

Every single feeling came rushing back to you all at once as if you were 16 again. Standing still in an alleyway. Watching her blood splatter the concrete. Staring down the barrel of the same gun as it turned on you, promised you would be next.

Some names were redacted, but you could tell from the first few lines of the police report beneath your mugshot that it was exactly what you feared it would be. He shouldn't have this.

Panic rises in your throat. You can't keep the nausea down, the growing urge to vomit up your last two drinks onto the paper. Maybe you'd ruin it completely and then... and then...

It still happened. You couldn't change that.

The entire terminal rattles and pulls you out of your shock. A train was passing right above you, sending bolts and screws clattering to the ground. You accidentally drop the file and one of the screens flickers on.

There were four different feeds—camera feeds. CCTV. One of the living room, one of the kitchen, one of the foyer, and one of the second floor. All four wink away, replaced by new angles, and you realize with a chill that one of them is pointed down the hallway leading to the elevator. If these were recording... if Bruce watched back the feed...

You tremble in place, waiting as the feeds are replaced with new ones. You wait for one that would confirm you had stepped into the elevator, had come down here. You wait for the killing blow.

But it doesn't come. There's one camera in that hallway, pointed at such an angle that, really, there's no way to tell if you got on or not. It's all you need to put your file back and rush out of there.

Your teeth are chattering as you climb back into the elevator, shut the gate, and let it take you back to the penthouse, but your mind isn't with you right now. It's back there, years ago. It's reeling. It's thinking he knows, he knows and this all must be a trick. He hired you and he knew. He knew and he let you in his house, let you find that couple, let you think you had a choice to get this far because he knew the truth and the truth was that you would take a chance like this because it took one night and her brains blown out of her head and Bruce would be waiting to arrest you because you never changed-

The elevator comes to a stop. Your name is called in that same moment, and you quickly hurry off the elevator and shut the gate just in time for Alfred to appear.

You probably look incriminating enough, all wild-eyed, but all Alfred does is release a deep, deep sigh. Then, he walks over to you and examines the broken padlock and the guilty weapon in your hand. You hadn't realized you still held it. You've turned the metal warm with how tightly you grip it. "No one got on, yes?" Is all he says.

You nod.

Alfred seems to think that's enough. He holds out a hand for the fire poker and you eagerly hand it over, "I met your friends a moment ago. They've been sent home. I'm afraid letting them onto the rooftop would've resulted in a lawsuit."

It takes you a second to register that he's joking, a second longer to laugh with him, however shaky, "They got as far as breaking the lock before I stopped them."

"Lucky as they were. This elevator's broken."

You blink, "Is it?"

"I'm afraid so. That's why we keep it locked. Who knows what could've happened if someone had stepped inside?"

You did.

"I believe Bruce was looking for you," Alfred offers, and you notice the slight edge to his voice. The forced smile on his face is all it takes for you to be certain, "It appears the mayor would like to hear about your work at Gotham General."

It's an out. You'd be stupid not to take it, "Right. Thanks. Good luck with the... door."

[starrycassi]

Some small details of my jayvik work for silco au because I still don't have quite enough time to write an actual coherent storyline-driven snippet rn (I'm a scholarship baby there is NO Fucking Free Time in my life)

Viktor thinks that the idea of marriage is absolutely stupid and vain. People don't get married in Zaun. They move in together after a while and then have kids. Some people definitely like to have house-warming parties and such, but marriage as a whole is plainly useless, most of the time. Since Zaun is technically still part of Piltover, getting married would include having to go up there and getting into so much paperwork that most people just. don't do that shit. it's not like they have any insurance so might as well save themselves the trip.

Jayce is, unfortunately, a piltie. He wants to get hitched. Big ass loud wedding. Invite everyone they know. He brings this up, trying to be discreet. He's horrible at discretion. He doesn't push, content with just being with Viktor and not wanting to push too hard. The idea lingers for a long, long time, though.

I'm still unsure of how that ends. The current plan is to have them do a small ceremony with their immediate "family" (Singed, Sevika, Silco, Jinx, Jayce's few friends) and then throwing a party in the last drop. What would probably sway Viktor into this is the thought of finally making it painfully obvious that Jayce is his and, well, seeing Jayce be happy.

Jayce is really good friends with the girls in the brothel. Sevika introduces them to him in hopes of getting him to cheat and comes back to find him doing their hair. He's actually really fucking grossed out by the whole concept of prostitution, always finding a bit of Caitlyn on every girl, and the image wrecks him. Any of them could be his baby sister. Bad lives with bad works and bad clients and bad health. He wants to help them, then crashes and realizes that there's only so much one man can do.

Jayce has the biggest fucking savior complex ever. It's literally becoming a problem. Viktor has to constantly restrain him from doing things that would stir the pot up too much. At least, not in public. Jayce is helping that teen mom. He turns around and Jayce is helping that old lady with the faulty eye. He blinks and Jayce is surrounded by children, trying to give candies to all of them. He looks at the side for a millisecond and Jayce is patching up someone's wounds.

While Viktor pretends to hate this, it's one of the main reasons why he loves this man. Jayce wants to help people as much as Viktor does. The knowledge makes him get dizzy with happiness every time he remembers that his partner is the kindest person he's ever met. He's infuriated by the fact that Jayce even has to do that stuff, angry that he never got that help when he needed it the most, ashamed and disappointed at himself for getting entangled with Silco, jealous of Jayce's ease with the public.

Viktor is actually really loved by the community. They do call him "The Herald" and avoid his eyes, but it's more out of respect than fear. They all know who he is, remember his scrawny knees and butched hair cut, and are thankful to him. He's done much more than he gives himself credit for.

Viktor developed an "air filter" mask to rey and give to all of Zaun. Silco only agreed to provide funding if the masks were only given to people who swear loyalty to his case and Viktor had to agree, with the condition that he could give out at least one a month to a person of his choice. This caused an almost immediate growth of Silco's army.

Viktor constantly offers Ekko a mask, endeared with the child and wanting him to be as happy as possible. Benzo makes Ekko deny it, knowing that some people might see it as a form of "siding" with them.

Viktor is CONSTANTLY going behind Silco's back to give his work to the people. CONSTANTLY. He is making prosthesis after prosthesis. Jayce's actions enrage him because he's created this beautifully woven lie to silco and here comes his idiot boyfriend being good in public. Like. Jayce. We're both gonna die if you keep this up.

Viktor gives Jayce even sharper canines. Like the second day they hangout together. And I mean ripping-skin kinda sharp. He's absolutely OBSESSED with Jayce's teeth in general and is constantly seen with his fingers in his partner's mouth, tracing over the sharp edges of his teeth, asking Jayce to "hold wide" while he analyzes. It always ends with them making out sloppy style.

Jayce wants to get a piercing. Everyone in here has cool body mods and all he has is a lil scar on the eyebrow. A brothel girl suggests, jokingly, that he should get nipple ones. Jayce stays silent for so long that all of them gasp at his blushing face.

Sevika actually develops a bit of a soft spot for Jayce. EVENTUALLY. after a LOT of time. He realizes this when she shoves a bottle of whiskey on his chest and tells him to "go get your man, he's passed out on his desk, muttering. I think he's got fever." They start accepting that the other cares about Viktor, which is enough to get to team up and appreciate one another.

Silco tries to be mysterious once (1) and comes in without knocking the door because he's pretty sure they are conspiring against his back (they are) and wants to catch them in the act. And catch them in the act he does. Just , well, the wrong one. Never again is he opening that fucking door. Never, ever again.

Their relationship is actually kinda toxic for a while. Viktor has to very explicitly tell Jayce that he wants him to work with him, not for him. He's always worried about Jayce's honesty and they have multiple fights over this. Have is also going through five identity crises at the same time and they have insane shit to build. They're also both fucking stubborn so they don't really talk a lot about those topics. It's not until Jayce gets his status as The Warden/Defender (haven't decided on his Zaun Title™ yet) that they become fully open with each other, which in turn brings even more fights. They are young and in love okay sue em. They EVENTUALLY get fully comfortable with who they are/the other is (their frontal cortex finishes developing), and when this happens every single Zaunite can feel it. The fucking ooze danger and kindness and electricity and calm.

Deep down, Jayce never stops waiting for the day they allow him back up again. Dreams of glass ceilings, hot running water, reliable public transportation, and so much more. He wants jinx to go to the playground and make friends. Thankfully, he's not naive enough to try and get back, instead focusing on trying to make that possible in here.

He actually kinda related to Singed. He, too, would absolutely go batshit insane trying to get Viktor/Jinx back. Fuck en morals. If one of them was ever in that capsule Jayce would walk into the council rooms, break every window and smash any books before taking everything needed to get them back to health.

He's in a constant state of worry/admiration/horniness every single time Viktor speaks about a new invention. Like yeah baby that's funny please don't bring eugenics up. Specially not in the side of eugenics.

Jayce is HEAVILY projecting Cait onto Jinx. Jinx is HEAVILY projecting Vi onto him. They have the worst brother/sister relationship one has ever seen. Jayce can actually become overbearing, which is why Jinx ends up preferring to Viktor when advice is needed.

Jayce has decent aim with a gun (much like Viktor) but is absolutely fucking crazy at body-on-body combat. Making sevika actually work for her win kind of good.

Also: everyone exclusively refers to Viktor as "herald" when he's anywhere. It's almost a term of endearment. He quite likes it.

They are both constantly telling Silco that "I'm just a teen!" Is not an appropriate response to dealing with Jinx's attempt of murder.

Jayce goes, in disguise, to check up on his mom. He watches for afar and cries for the whole day, when he does. Viktor tries to come by sometimes. The only thing he regrets of leaving away Piltover iis the spot he left in his mother's life.

The first time Jinx sees Viktor have a full own health attack she goes crazy. He starts coughing up blood and almost passing out, falling to the floor while scrambling for his cane. He knows he's not going to die right now but conveying this is kinda heard when you're grasping for air. Jinx wails over his body. She's screaming for Dad and for Jayce and for Sevika in such a raw, loud way that Viktor has nightmares with her voice for days. Jayce is so deeply disturbed by Jinx's state that he sleeps in her room for a few days, watching over her, trying to stay awake on a couch in the corner, watching her toss and turn in her sleep.

Bit of a nsfw warning: these bitches are LOUD. Not always, but when they do, they are animalistic loud. Begging and crying and pleading and sobbing kinda loud. There's chains. There's leather. There's everything. Viktor usually tops, but he doesn't mind it the other way around. Jayce stays obedient in each, so.

[booksooks]

𝑳𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝑯𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝑳𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓: 𝑫𝒂𝒚 3.1

Author's Note: I'm so tired I'll edit this when I wake up. There will be a day 3 part 2. For now, please enjoy 💙

Contents: Nothing that needs a warning <3

Word Count: 2153

Summary: Entering your second year at college, only a few months after being broken up with, you weren't expecting anything special. Especially not in the romance department. But then a quiet, but friendly-enough boy on your floor catches your attention faster than you would like to admit. And oh, boy, are you in deep.

Thursday was more boring than you’d like to admit. You woke up early, despite your first class being only at 2pm, and you spent those hours mindlessly scrolling on your phone. And then you realized you didn’t know where your class was, so you scrambled to get your school’s brightspace open to find it. 

You breathed a sigh of relief when you were able to find it; it was one of the rooms on the upper floor of the library. The rest of your free time was spent getting ready for said class, choosing an outfit and doing any other cosmetic needs, skincare and stuff. Music blared loudly from your phone as you got ready, hyping you up for the day as you danced around your small room. Hanami had left for her classes for the day, so you had the tiny space to yourself as Miley Cyrus and Katy Perry made you bounce on your feet and sing into your microphone (aka your lint roller). It was only mildly embarrassing behavior, and your door was locked, so you weren’t extremely concerned with anyone seeing you. 

After a few more minutes, however, you sighed and decided you couldn’t get away with putting off leaving any more. You slipped your shoes on and snatched up your backpack to head out the door, your music now playing through your earbuds. You had left earlier than you needed, because you wanted to grab a drink from the commons cafe before attending two classes, and you wouldn’t have enough time to get something between two said classes. So leaving early was the only solution. 

You didn’t want to brag, you thought to yourself as you made your way to class, but you looked pretty damn good today. Jean shorts with star patches sewn over the ass (which, while cute, were inconvenient because it meant no pockets), and a baggy green shirt, and black converse made up your outfit. Your hair was hairing to the max, and you just felt good in the way you looked, which didn’t happen often, so if you had a little more swagger in your step, sue you. Today would be good. 

You carried the sentiment with you all the way to the commons cafe, where the school had implemented an entirely unnecessary and complicated new system to ordering the food through GrubHub, for whatever reason. You sighed and ordered your drink, and the app notified you that it would be ready in… 13 minutes. “Jesus Christ,” you mumbled to yourself as you leaned against a wall. Next time you would just order before leaving your dorm. It wasn’t like there were even that many people in line ahead of you, only three according to the GrubHub app. You rolled your eyes and checked the time, anxious to be on time with the added thirteen minutes to your schedule. You would be, thankfully, and spent the rest of your time waiting just scrolling through your phone. 

How much time did you spend on your phone anyway? Probably too much, you decided, going back to the messages between yourself and Shigaraki and Toga in the group chat last night. You hadn’t even used it for its intended purpose of scheduling a study session, but you figured you could blame it on Toga - wait, no, you couldn’t. You had asked when a good time to study was in her private messages. Oh well, it gave you a chance to text Shigaraki without Toga’s prying eyes. You had seen the way she looked at your hand on his elbow yesterday, a flicker of mischief and something a little more devious sparking in her eyes. You had your suspicions that she had left you two behind on purpose, but she had only just met you, so what reason would she have to try and get the two of you alone? 

Then again, she did seem like the obsessive type, with her little comment about stabbing people. And it wasn’t like you minded, per se. Shigaraki was an attractive man, the more you thought about him. Or more accurately, he was your type. He was tall, and his arm had felt so solid and warm beneath your hand yesterday, muscles taut underneath your fingers. You swallowed down the saliva pooling in your mouth, because yeah that was enough of that train of thought. 

Your mind didn’t stray very far, however, because you remembered his eyes and how damn pretty they were. Deep-set and a bright, ruby red, they sparkled with a less-than-hidden ferocity in the shadows of his pale blue hair. It was more than a little intimidating, the intensity in his gaze and how he seemed to be able to take in any information and store it away for later, to be pored over when it’s convenient for him. All in a few seconds of eye contact. 

You nearly jumped out of your skin when your phone buzzed in your hand, indicating that your order was ready and oh shit did you think about Shigaraki Tomura for a whole 13 minutes straight? That certainly wasn’t concerning, nor was it something you would let yourself think about for any longer as you grabbed your drink and made your way to class. Macroeconomics, ugh. Microeconomics had been hell last semester, but unfortunately it was a requirement for business majors, and there you were, a business major, which… Sucked to suck. 

You sighed quietly and shook off any and all thoughts about sucking and Shigaraki, and sweet Mary molasses you should not have thought about those two words together in the same sentence. What was wrong with you today? You decided it could be a problem for later, as you pushed open the door and greeted the professor, a sweet looking middle-aged woman before you sat down. This would be a long class. 

You were right, the class had been incredibly long, and incredibly boring, and you had taken to counting ceiling tiles to even stay awake. But the class was over now, thankfully, and you hopped to your feet to go to your next and last class, which was a calculus course. Fuck calculus. You pulled up your phone to double check the classroom number, knowing that the building it was in was right across from the library. 

The classroom was empty when you got there, save for-

“Shigaraki, hey!” 

The man looked up from his computer as you said his name, bright red eyes glancing at your mostly bare legs before meeting your gaze. “Hi.” 

“Are you in this calculus class too? That’d be so cool if we had two classes together.” You exclaimed, sitting at a desk next to him. He nodded and typed something out on his computer before shutting it, giving you his full attention, which you appreciated. 

“Yeah.” 

You nodded thoughtfully, wanting to keep the conversation going but unsure where to pick it back up. “It’s kinda early though, I mean, I’m 15 minutes early and you were here before me. What class did you have before this one?” 

Shigaraki said something about a computer science class, bringing one of his hands up to scratch at the base of his neck, an area of skin that was normally hidden underneath his sweater. Your eyes zeroed in on that little patch of skin, now scratched red and raw, and you had to physically blink to realize that not only had Shigaraki answered your question, he had asked you one of his own. 

“Uh, sorry I zoned out,” you admitted sheepishly. “What was that?”

“I asked what class you had.” 

Oh, right. That made sense. “Macroeconomics,” you mumbled. “It’s so boring I almost fell asleep.” 

Shigaraki’s lips curved into a sly, quiet snicker. His expression was marked by a subtle twitch at one corner, pulling your attention to the small scar that lay over the edge of his lip. A mole rested just beneath the other corner, adding a touch of asymmetry to his face that was prettier than it should have been. As he smiled , and God help you it was adorable, the wrinkles around his eyes deepened. “Falling asleep on the second day?” he mused, with a hint of mockery. “That’s no good.” 

Get a hold of yourself! You sang in your head. Where did his sudden, teasing confidence come from? 

You managed to smile sheepishly and avoided his gaze, shrugging. “Not my fault it’s a boring class.” 

Shigaraki had stopped pawing at his neck, instead tapping his fingers against his mouth and drawing your attention to it. His lips were cracked and dry, and looked to be honestly rather painful. “Can’t be that boring if you’re there.”

“W-What?” You chuckled softly, trying to figure out whether or not… was he flirting with you?

“You heard me,” he said, turning to face away from you and stare at the door. You blinked at him rapidly, and then shook your head. There was no way he was flirting. 

To distract yourself, you pulled out your phone and checked the time. 3:35pm. “Hm.”

“Hm?” Shigaraki parroted. 

“Hm, it’s five past and no one’s here yet,” you explained, pulling up the syllabus to double check you were in the right room, the right building. Yep. Room 221, Greens Hall. “Are we in the wrong room, do you think, or…?” 

Shigaraki frowned. “Could be.” 

You blinked at your phone, double and then triple checking your phone, just in case. But your eyes were not deceiving you. “Maybe everyone else is just late?” You asked hopefully. You knew it wasn’t true, there was no way no one else hadn’t trickled into class by now. 

“Let’s just,” you paused, “wait a few more minutes.” 

“Okay.” 

And so you did. Then a ‘few more minutes’ turned into ten, which turned into 15, and then 20. Not once had Shigaraki opened his computer back up. He had chosen to, instead, pull out his phone and fiddle around on it, and although you couldn’t see the screen you had to assume it was some sort of game by the way he held the device, thumbs poised over the edges of the screen. 

After 30 minutes of sitting in silence, you spoke up. “We’re definitely in the wrong room.” 

Shigaraki glanced up, briefly, and then looked back down at his phone. “How? We’re in the room that’s named on the syllabus.” 

“Iunno,” you mumbled, shrugging as you stood up and hoisting your backpack over your shoulders. “I’m gonna go back to my dorm and email the teacher from there. Wanna come with?” 

He nodded after a moment’s hesitation, sliding his stuff together and haphazardly shoving it all in his backpack. You watched, a little disturbed at the lack of organization, but didn’t comment because his backpack was already over his shoulder, and so was yours, and he was at the door quickly, holding it open for you. 

“Thanks,” you chirped, scooting past him and into the empty hallway. 

Shigaraki “mhm’d” in that soft, raspy voice of his, and soon enough his long legs were matching your stride. You both made your way out of the building in silence, trading off who opened doors for who automatically. You inhaled deeply when you got outside, the air cooler now that it was in the late afternoon, loving the feeling and the smell. 

The walk back to your dorm building was just as quiet, the both of you enjoying the sounds of other people walking or catching up with friends. Soon enough, however, you were on the little deer path that connected the academic part of campus to the living part of campus, where it was less chattery and was more welcoming to the cries of birds or squirrels barking. 

You broke that silence. “So uh, are you doing anything later?”

Shigaraki didn’t say anything for a moment. “No, don’t think so, why?” 

“Uh, well,” you started, hoping you didn’t sound as awkward as you felt. “I heard that they’re playing a movie on the front lawn of Briggs, and I wanted to go but I don’t wanna go alone.” 

You saw Shigaraki nod minutely in understanding. “What movie are they playing?” 

“I’m not sure,” you muttered. “An action movie, I’m pretty sure. I didn’t see though, on the flier. It starts at eight, though. If you want to come, no pressure.” 

You were rambling, God did you ever shut up? It was like you were determined to stick your foot in your mouth or make him uncomfortable. 

“Sure, I’ll be there.” 

“Oh, okay cool!” You said, your tone brighter than you had intended. 

The rest of the walk was quiet, and you said your ‘see you later’s in the hallway just in front of the staircase. It wasn’t until you were back in your room that you realized that, not only had you asked Shigaraki to go watch a movie with you, he had agreed. Oh joy.

End Notes: Thank you for reading <3!

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ABSOLUTELY NO ONE HAS MY PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WORK TO ANY SITE.

[subbmissivesuccubus]

H-L ( Part 2)

Content : Rengoku X Fem Reader X Uzui. NSFW one shots.

A-Z prompts, part 1~

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Rengoku grooms himself well, a neat patch of hair on his abdomen that matches the red and yellow pattern of the hair on his head. It made him a bit flustered the first time you saw it, your eyes widening as you didn't realize you were just staring at this man's dick. Uzui is completely clean shaven, not a hair on his body as he finds it more comfortable and gets to show off his physique more flamboyantly.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

The intimate moments while you're getting you back blown out by two amazing men always made your head spin more so than their thick cocks splitting you open. Rengoku is very romantic and it came as no surprise to you. Even when he's rough with you, pulling the leash of your collar and lightly choking you as his hips continue to piston into your pussy from behind, he manages to keep the romance going. "Oh, angel~ You're my perfect wife~ How did I get so lucky, hmm?" Definitely more of a kisser, his lips on you as much as possible. He loves kissing your lips of course, his favorite thing to do as you fuck, swallowing down the moans and whines he gets out of you. But as he kisses you, Uzui is also working hard to distract you away from Rengoku, pulling your chin away from the flame Hashira so he can take them instead. The romantic aspect of your time with Uzui depends on his mood. One moment he's peppering your face with kisses as he makes love to you and the next second he's pistoning his cock into you like a mad man, growling degrading filth. Uzui is either at a zero or a hundred and there's no in between. It sometimes gives you whiplash on how last night he was so sweet and intimate with you that it almost made you cry but tonight, he's got you in a mating press, a blindfold over your eyes and a gag in your mouth as he pounds your pussy, growling as he fucks you into next week.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

With his numerous partners, Uzui sometimes forgets how enjoyable it is to jerk off. He'd always prefer to sleep with you or his wives but in cases where he's alone, out on missions, or sometimes even when there's free time while lounging around in an inn, he'll whip his cock out and start pumping. To help him along, he has four pictures, one for each of his partners in very sexy positions- yours in particular was of you on the bed, looking into the camera lens as it captured Uzui's cum dripping out of your pussy, hickies and bite marks littering your beautiful skin. He'd hold the photo with one hand while he jerked himself off with the other, working his fat cock as he pumped up and down, his mind wandering and thinking of all the filthy, nasty things he was going to do to you once whatever mission he was on was completed. He's definitely a man who buys erotica, a man of culture who appreciates the work that goes into writing a steamy piece of fiction and he has absolutely jerked his cock while he reads, picturing himself and you undertaking the sexual acts described within the pages. Depending on how pent up he is and what materials he uses to help him along, he'll either cum in minutes or it takes an hour- but either way- he's having a good time.

Rengoku didn't understand the point of masturbating. If he had a lover and they had an active sexlife- why waste his seed on his hand when he can instead pump it deep inside of them? But his viewpoint changed when he met you. All three of you being high profiled demon slayers meant many missions and nights without each other which made the man finally understand the desperation to feel pleasure.

Rengoku, at one point, got so desperate for release that he didn't even make it to the inn. He saw a glimpse of you and your team rushing to another destination to slay demons, passing through the area that he just finished cleaning up. The two of you made eye contact, the first time seeing each other in two weeks and immediately, he felt his cock throb with need. It didn't help that you had subtly separated from your team secretly to quickly run upto him to give him a kiss before running back to your team, a peck that barely lasted a second and that made his desire for you to grow tenfold. It took everything within him to not simply grab you and take you to bed- his responsibility as a demon slayer stopping him from keeping you be his side. Once you were gone- and he is ashamed of this- he found a dark corner in an alleyway and jerked himself off, biting the collar of his uniform to keep his grunts and moans of your name from escaping his lips. Just something about seeing your beautiful face and perfect body and feeling your soft lips pressed against his made his cock instantly harden. Fisting his cock, he keeps his senses sharp to make sure no one would walk in on him furiously jerking off, Rengoku trying his best to imitate your movements as he closed his eyes, picturing you jerking his cock instead. Post nut clarity hit him hard when he was cleaning his cum off the walls, a deep blush on his face as he got embarrassed, but he just couldn't help himself.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Rengoku has a breeding kink because of course he does. He strives to one day have a wonderful family with a beautiful wife and an army of healthy, happy children. He can't wait for the day he becomes a father and of course, raise his children along with their stunning mother. He tries to push down this side of him as you two aren't married (yet) but one time he accidentally came inside you and the image of his cum dripping out of your pussy pushed him over the edge. Now, he doesn't care. He just can't have sex with you without dumping load after load into your pussy. He'll sometimes overstimulate himself, refusing to stop until his cock is weeping for a break, balls drained of every drop as he floods your womb with his seed. His favorite position is the mating press and fucking you from behind. Anything that can get his cock deep inside you to fill you up will always be his go to position. Legs pressed against you ear as he fucks into you vigorously, balls slapping against your pussy or with you face down, ass up, Rengoku having a bruising grip on your hips as he pounds you from behind, your ass jiggling with every thrust- nothing can beat it. He'll whisper the most wholesome things into your ear while having filthy, filthy sex, the contrast of the two giving you whiplash. "I can't wait to start a family with you!" he'll say as he pushes your face against the mattress, muffling your moans as he pounds you from behind. "I want a baby girl that looks like you~" he'd grown into your ear as he takes you against the wall, his cum dripping out of your pussy and onto the floor. "I want to make you a Mommy- make me a Daddy- just marry me already!" he'd say as he pistons his cock into you, hands pushing the back of your knees harder, folding you in half as he aimed to dump another load inside you. You get the idea.

Uzui loves making you cry. Tears of frustration prickling your face turns him on to no end. His favorite way to break you down is by overstimulating you or edging you. Over stimulation tends to occur fairly often thanks to his and Rengoku's high sex drive- they end up leaving you a fucked out mess, body trembling and pussy twitching from how many orgasms you experienced. But he edges you on the days you're particularly naughty and bratty. He punishes you by taking you right to the edge before pulling you away, ruining orgasm after orgasm until you're begging him, apologizing for being naughty with tears in your eyes, pussy a bright red from how many time's he's spanked it to ruin your climax. If he feels like you've learned your lesson, he'll lie you down and eat your pussy out, his hot and talented tongue finally making you orgasm. If he isn't feeling very nice, he isn't above leaving you without any release for the whole night, the sight of you sobbing and pathetic stored in his brain forever, to be used as fuel for future jack off sessions.

He also has a size kink because of course he does. A tall, muscular hunk of a man- he loves how tiny you are compared to him. He could cum in his pants with just the image of manhandling you into whatever position he wants with one hand, always towering over you, his body keeping you at his mercy. He also has a breeding kink (although not as intense as Rengoku's) and he loves it when he cums too much and his seed seeps between the gaps of his cock plugging your pussy, dripping down your body.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

For Rengoku, even though it's quite boring, it is the bedroom. Nothing beats being with his lover in the privacy of his own room, surrounded by four walls with nothing to distract them as he takes you. It's simple, but effective and gives him all the freedom to go all night long without any interruptions.

Uzui is an equal opportunity slut and so, his favorite place to have sex is anywhere at anytime. In a bedroom? The perfect place to take your time and make sweet, passionate love. In the forest? What better place to breed you like an animal than to be surrounded by mother nature. Hot springs? It washes away the juices while your having sex- very efficient he'd say. In an alleyway minutes before you need to leave for a mission? Makes it all the more exciting!

You get the idea~

[hey-heigo]

Chapter 31

first chapter of da year :)

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

not much to say for this one. kind of a transitional chapter into the trial

every now and then i re-reference the game transcripts and realize that ive missed a lot of stuff that's kind of important within the game canon and it becomes a race to see if and where i can introduce those naturally

beta'd by @digitaldollsworld!

Content warning tags: Monokuma-typical dialogue, hangnail fixation, student tardiness

< previous - from start - next >

Makoto jitters as he waits by the elevator entrance with the others, chewing on a hangnail on his thumb. It��s a bad habit he had throughout elementary and middle school, and one his mom would definitely get pissed at him for reviving.

Sorry mom, he thinks distantly, as the tiny sliver of skin gets caught between his teeth just so - and is joined by a bead of blood, hot metal on his tongue, as he tugs open a tiny, stinging wound next to his fingernail. But he felt like there were ants marching under his skin, a steady, anxious march of them as he waits for what feels like ages, glancing repeatedly at the doorway.

A few moments later, there’s the sound of clomping footsteps and indistinct words, and he nearly gets a twinge in his neck twisting around to see who it was. But it’s not Byakuya, or Kyoko, or even Hifumi - but Monokuma, uncharacteristically reserved (and, for some reason, missing a few patches of fur across its head and torso) and dragging Toko along by the edge of her skirt. And Toko…

He blinks, forgetting to be apprehensive for a moment. The characteristic twin braids that usually swung from her head were gone, shorn messily and at uneven lengths, just above the shoulders. The right side still had enough length to hold its shape as a braid, though there were a lot of messy, flyaway strands poking outwards that gave the impression that she’d been electrocuted. The left side was cut shorter, in line with her chin, and was completely undone, frizzing outwards from her face. There’s a band-aid - reddish-pink and patterned with white bunnies - slapped high across her left cheekbone. Her glasses were askew.

For a moment, no one dares to say a word, as her eyes flick between them, wide and wild and blazing with rage. “W-What are you looking at?” She snarls, voice stuttering only slightly, but enough to confirm that, yes, she was Toko, and Makoto relaxes a little.

(Not that he had anything against Syo, really, aside from the…murder. But Syo was a lot, and he wasn’t sure he could handle her right now.)

“...Toko?” Hina tries, tentatively, and she flinches, hard enough for her glasses to slip even further down her nose. “What - what happened…?”

“Isn’t it o-obvious?” She snaps bitterly. She yanks her skirt free from Monokuma’s grasp - who doesn’t even make a sound of protest or indignation, weirdly enough - her fingers white-knuckling the fabric, before shoving her glasses back with the palm of one hand. “She cut them off. Th-thought it’d be funny, or something…n-not that she ever th-thinks about what it matters to me…”

No one really knows what to say to that. “...Well,” Sakura eventually says, a little awkwardly. “It doesn’t look…bad.”

“Y-eah…” Hiro agrees, sounding way too skeptical to be believable. “It just…needs to be evened out?”

Whatever comfort they were trying to offer was lost on her, who only scowls fiercer, as she moves to isolate herself to a corner, her typical habit. Clearly no longer interested in entertaining any further conversation, though Makoto can feel her eyes boring into him when he looks away, returning his thumb to his lips.

The minutes tick by in an agonizing crawl. Monokuma is waiting silently with them now, adding a new layer of anxiety as it cycles between tapping its foot dramatically to staring at its wrist like it’s checking a watch, and yet the last three of their party is nowhere to be seen.

The hangnail Makoto was teething at finally gives up the ghost and snaps off with a sharp, needle-prick of warmth. Instead of pulling his thumb out of his mouth, though, he tongues at the raw, weeping skin, tasting salt and copper and another bloom of hot pain.

The sound of footsteps has him jerking to look again, dragging his hand from his mouth, and a moment later the sound is followed by Byakuya and Hifumi, rushing - kind of - towards them. Neither of them are moving especially fast, and Byakuya was keeping pace with Hifumi, though Makoto’s not sure if that’s on purpose, or, if something else was going on - he did seem to be struggling, his brow pinched, uncharacteristically stumbling somewhat as they reach the group. But the rest of him seems okay, and that in itself is enough of a relief to make Makoto rush over to meet him.

“Hey,” He starts, and then realizes he’s not sure what to say. Not for lack of stuff that he wants to say - ‘are you okay’ being the first one, ‘are your legs okay’ being the second, ‘did you eat anything yet’ being the third - but he also has the feeling Byakuya wouldn’t actually answer any of those at this instant.

So instead he settles for the next most important thing: “Where’s Kyoko?”

Byakuya’s face tightens a little more. “Coming up behind us,” He replies tersely, before grabbing onto his shoulder: “What did you find?”

“A-A lot,” Makoto stammers, a little taken aback by the sudden question. He reaches into his pocket to show him, but no sooner does his fingers brush smooth plastic than does something -firm and plush, Monokuma’s paw - smack his knee with surprising force. “Ow!”

“No spoilers!” The bear barks, once more its over-animated self - though somehow, the few clumps of fur that Syo had snipped off of it makes it look a lot more menacing than usual. “Grr…when I say it’s trial time, I mean it! That means no more schemin’, plottin’, conspirin’, nothin’! You save what you got for the trial so it’s fair!”

“Even lawyers will discuss before and during trial proceedings,” Byakuya points out, and Monokuma glares, red eye flashing bright and dangerous.

“Oh yeah? Well that’s that and this is this! I’m the law here! And the senate and the captain, and I speak for the trees, y’hear?!” It shakes its paws threateningly, and everyone leans away from it, uneasy. “Grrah!! That really pissed me off, on top of me already being pissed off about student tardiness! Don’t you know you gotta respect your authorities? Don’t you know you gotta respect other people’s time!? I swear, this generation is gonna go to the dogs!”

“Ugh,” Hina mutters under her breath. “Boomer.”

“Dude,” Hiro hisses next to her, still sweating with fear. “Shut up.”

“And where’s Kirigiri?!” Monokuma continues its tirade, undeterred by the errant comments. “She’s late!”

“She’s on her way,” Byakuya says stiffly, at the same time as Hifumi stammers: “She-she said she wanted to check something-”

And immediately, he clamps a hand over his own mouth, eyes widening. Everyone looks to Monokuma, breaths held, as a foreboding shadow passes over the toy’s unmoving face.

“Sh-she probably went to the bathroom or something!” Makoto interjects quickly, at the same time shuffling to the side to stand in front of the exit. “She’ll be here any moment, so-”

“Outta the way, Makoto,” Monokuma barks, and really, the rage would be comical if Makoto didn’t know what it was capable of. He could practically see steam blowing out of Monokuma’s ears. “Tardiness is one thing, but breaking the rules is another. Investigating outside of investigation time is like breaking out the volleyball during math class! Super wrong and super not allowed!”

“If it weren’t allowed, it should be written more clearly in the rules.” Says a voice from behind him, as cool and unaffected as ever.

He spins, and can’t help the relieved grin that threatens to break across his face. Hiro shouts, “Kyoko!” and she only nods, acknowledging them briefly before stepping forward to stand in front of Monokuma.

“Sorry if I’m late,” She says tersely. “But I was walking directly here. You can check on the cameras if you want.”

“Don’t get smart with me…” Monokuma shakes its paw at her. “That’s no excuse! When I say ‘trial time’, that means you show up within five minutes! Any later and I put out a warrant! Any later later and you get penalized!”

“If that’s the case, shouldn’t you make that more clear?” Byakuya scoffs. “This is the first time we’re hearing about this.”

Monokuma rounds on him instead. “It’s basic decency! Common sense! D’you also want me to teach you one plus one is three!?”

Makoto watches as Byakuya’s eye literally twitches, lip simultaneously curling in disgust. “It’s not like she was wandering aimlessly. And you’ve never discussed these kinds of regulations before, or emphasized the importance of them thereof. It’s not even written out in the rules - which, as you’ve made clear by this point, is our standard for what we can or can’t do - so how are we supposed to know that this is a punishable offense?”

Monokuma’s eyes flash again, bright, hospital-sign-red, and its whole body seems to be vibrating in place with barely-contained fury, and Makoto makes a blind grab for Byakuya’s hand, with the intention to stop him before something bad really happens; because as much as his words make sense, Monokuma was weird today. The bear’s unexpected silence only to be followed up with something bordering on rage, over Kyoko being just a few minutes late - Makoto can still vividly remember Junko’s eyes, wide and trembling, staring at him as Monokuma nonchalantly tossed a cloth over her skewered body and shooed them away -

Byakuya doesn’t flinch when Makoto squeezes his wrist, but his eyelids drop and flicker slightly, and too late, Makoto registers the crossing pattern of bandages under his fingertips and remembers, loosening his hold quickly and guiltily; Byakuya doesn’t really react to it, doesn’t even look at him, though he does shake his hand out slightly before returning it to hang loose at his side. 

“Smart-aleck, huh?” Monokuma growls, squeaky-toy voice low and dangerous. “Well, fine then. If you’re gonna be like that-”

There’s a chorus of unanimous pings, in the air, and then a collective shuffle as everyone digs out their pockets for their handbooks. Byakuya reaches into the pockets of his pants, finds nothing, and for a moment looks so genuinely disheartened that Makoto almost passes over his own handbook, before remembering that it wouldn't really do anything for him. Looking down at his own screen, he stares at the new line below the bulleted list of rules.

“New addendum: ‘when trial time is announced, all are expected to participate. And anyone late by longer than FIVE MINUTES will be PUNISHED.’” Monokuma recites for them as they read. “There, ya happy now? S’That clear enough for you-” And it takes a deep breath, chest puffing out. “-BRATS?”

And Byakuya frowns, chewing on the inside of his cheek again, but doesn’t seem inclined to argue the point anymore. No one does, for that matter, and Makoto thinks he can finally let out the breath he was holding, when he takes a look at Kyoko and sees her brows furrowed contemplatively.

“Just a second,” Kyoko speaks up, closing her handbook with a snap in the same breath, and Makoto has to internally brace himself. “At this point, there’s only eight of us left, with two, almost three people having died earlier, and at least one more of us expected to die today. If we can expect the ‘punishment’ for breaking any of these rules to be the same as established from day one, wouldn’t this end your game sooner?”

Monokuma tilts its head, anger forgotten in an instant. “Puhuhu…is that what you think?” It giggles. “Well first of all, my goal is a thrilling, chilling, killing game! How long or short it is doesn’t matter, as long as the momentum keeps up to the end! ‘Course, I would prefer it if you all could last as long as you can, and show me your drive as Ultimates! …But, you do have a point about the number of victims, so…”

Another ping, and Makoto fumbles to reopen his handbook. “New rule: ‘the blackened may only kill a maximum of two people.’ Unless we somehow make it to the end of the game with three people left, and maybe I’ll reconsider, but that’s for later.” Monokuma leans over to try and pat Kyoko’s knee, and her leg jerks for a moment, as if to kick the robot across the room - instead, she just takes a step back, out of reach. “Good catch, Miss Kirigiri! I do so appreciate thoughtful students!”

She doesn’t look pleased by the praise at all, face darker than usual as she tucks her chin into her knuckles, thinking. In fact, no one does; he catches sight of Sakura’s face scowling as she flicks her handbook closed with a sharp snap, and Hiro’s anxious fidgeting. Hina is the only one who meets his eye, though she just as quickly looks away; but he gets the unspoken message loud and clear. 

No time to discuss it though. “I almost forgot! The whole dang point of this!” Monokuma explains, with a conductor-like flourish of its paws, the lattice doors of the rickety, industrial elevator scrape their way open with a ding. “Alright, everyone! In you go! I’ll meet you down below!”

No one really wants to get on, but after the whole fiasco Monokuma had just put on, no one really wants to test it either. They shuffle their way in, one by one, and Makoto distantly remembers the first time they rode this thing, the weight of fourteen people had elicited a terrifying groan that had everyone frozen, stock still and hardly daring to breathe as they rattled their way down. This time, it doesn’t even creak.

Toko was one of the first to enter, and stationed herself near the doors. She eyes Byakuya with wide red eyes, a strange, intensely focused look on her face, and Makoto hastily shepherds the other boy towards the opposite end of the tiny space and into a back corner, before positioning himself solidly in Toko’s line of sight. He goes to motion for Kyoko, try and beckon her closer so he can tell her about the evidence he’d found-

But, she’s already here, and standing directly in front of Byakuya. Arms crossed, her left hand flexing slowly and deliberately, her leather glove creaking with every stretch and pull. Eyes perfectly glazed over, as if in thought.

“Kyo-”

“Not now.” She mutters, and her gaze flicks briefly to the camera in the corner, and then back into the middle distance.

“But,” He says, whispering now, following her attention to the camera as he reaches into his pocket. “It’s important-”

“It can wait. Don’t reveal anything here.” She says, sharper this time, and this time her eyes darts to the others around them before focusing on him instead, narrowing slightly, pale irises giving the impression of pinprick pupils, like a wild cat. “Understand?”

And he does, a little, but only a little. Even if this was their third trial, it still made him feel like dirt, having to be suspicious of their friends. And it still didn’t get any easier, being treated by Kyoko as something between a personal assistant and confused child; even if she was the only one putting in the most effort into getting everyone out. He clenches his hand in his pocket, momentarily forgetting the open wound on his finger, and cringing at the raw sting of fabric scraping against it, and the prospect of lint getting where it shouldn’t. He looks away, trying to distract himself from that, Kyoko, the impending trial, and the now-familiar sense of impending doom building in his chest with every meter they descended, until his attention falls on Byakuya again.

Byakuya was mirroring Kyoko, arms crossing over his chest, but he’s anything but still. His eyes shake like they don’t know what to focus on, darting, trembling, never at rest. To him, Kyoko, the camera, the descending walls outside the elevator, the others, Toko, him again, the floor. His right cheek is pinched a little with how he’s chewing on it.

He looks younger without his glasses, a lot less regal and closed-off. Makoto had noticed it the night before, right before he kissed him; and though he has the feeling Byakuya wouldn’t appreciate it if he mentioned it, he thinks he really prefers it this way. More human. Less guarded.

“Stop staring.” Byakuya hisses at him, and he jumps, and jerks forward again, face flushing. Had he been making it that obvious?

“Sorry.” He replies, automatically. But he can’t help peeking, especially when he notices the slight, purpling edge of a bruise peeking over the collar of his jacket, zipped all the way up as it is. And decides not to mention that either, at least not right now.

They rattle the rest of the way down in silence.

__

As expected, Monokuma is already waiting for them. Bouncing excitedly on its velvet throne, fur pristine once more. 

A different spare, Kyoko thinks, quietly checking off one of her suspicions as confirmed. They knew well by now that Monokuma likely had a reserve of excess models, but this established that there were different models stationed in different places, which could explain how the puppet seemed to get around so quickly; a mystery that she had been pondering for some time now, and deduced to either be secret tunnels, or multiple spares that the mastermind could switch control between on an instant.

But now wasn’t the time to dwell too deeply on that now. She takes her stand, sliding one hand carefully over her jacket pocket as she does, checking that the contents were still there. Casting a brief glance at Makoto, standing across from her.

It would have been for the best if they could have reconvened before this. But there simply hadn’t been time - and to discuss it on the elevator would have alerted the culprit. It was frustrating, but all she could do now was trust that Makoto had done his job.

“Gosh, when you’re all spread out like this, it really shows just how few of you are left!” Monokuma laughs, and sure enough, everyone’s standing a lot further from each other than before. There are new portraits where there should have once been occupied space, sitting within heavy metal frames - Celeste’s and Mondo’s faces slashed through with bright, offensive crosses. Strange how much of a difference was made by the absence of just two people.

Kyoko wonders who could have put those there - Monokuma, for all its many sleight-of-hand tricks, was nowhere near dextrous in shape or form to handle that kind of labor on its own - was it the Mastermind, then with their own hands? Were they watching from somewhere nearby?

“The rules are the same as always! Find out the blackened who killed your precious classmates! Vote them out! Get it right, and only the culprit is punished! Otherwise, only the culprit gets away scot-free!” She slides her attention back towards the bear as it continues its spiel. There were a lot of moving pieces in this trial, and to put it all together, she couldn’t afford to sit back as she did before. She’d need to speak up as soon as she was able. “Now, to start off - who would like to go first?”

She opens her mouth, but-

“I can.” Makoto says before she can make a sound, and returns her sharp and skeptical stare with a look that’s nothing short of anxious confidence.

“Can you?” She finds herself asking, unable to keep the incredulity out of her voice, and he gives a sharp nod that could have just as easily been a nervous swallow. “Then-”

“He can,” Sakura confirms, interjecting into their call-and-return game, and Kyoko turns to her instead. “Me, Hiro, and Hina can confirm his deductions as well. We saw the evidence.”

“Witnessing someone else’s logic is hardly enough to confirm a definite conclusion.” Byakuya scoffs, cutting off Kyoko once more, and she closes her mouth and tries not to feel too irritated. “But if you’re so confident, then go ahead and tell us who you think the culprit is.”

Things were already going off-course. She’d lost her opportunity to lay out her reasoning - but that was fine, she told herself. There was the chance that Makoto had reached the same conclusion as her, and if not, then she can debunk the evidence he laid out. He glances at her, and she nods once, tilting her head to give him her ear.

“O-okay, well.” He clears his throat hesitatingly. “When it comes to the deaths of Celeste, and the- the attempted murder of Byakuya, the culprit is Mondo.”

< previous - from start - next >

[hotpinkboots]

I am absolutely *starved* for foxy content, like one thing I’m obsessed with is foxy with piercings specifically, and imagine one night he’s like. Chasing you but you escape bc it’s just as the time turns over to 6 a.m., and as you catch your breath you notice one of his gold hoop earrings on the floor, and foxy’s reaction to seeing you the next night with his earring in your ear, the shock and the slow, reluctant tail-wagging he’ll deny but damn does that jewel look pretty in your ear and I hnnnnng PLS FEED ME IM A STARVING FOXY SIMP 😭

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~𝔉𝔬𝔵𝔶 x Reader Headcanons (Wearing His Earring)~

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OH MY GOSHHH FOXY WITH PIERCINGS. I LOVE YOU FOR THIS REQUEST🙏🙏🙏

HAPPY TALK LIKE A PIRATE DAY!

Summary: You looking pretty in Foxy's pirate booty (THAT BE TREASURE, YA KNOW) has softened his ol' sailin' heart.

~Enjoy~

★★★★

𝔉𝔬𝔵𝔶

★★★★

~He's a grumpy old pirate and cursed himself for not being fast enough to get to you.

~Didn't realize his earring fell out while he was chasing you.

~Until he saw you the next night, wearing it like it was yours in the first place.

~You considered putting it back on him, but these animatronics almost murdered you just the night before, so you decided not to get close to any of the animatronics unless you absolutely had to.

~Especially the one that was chasing you down the hall.

~He had been only a hair away from you.

~You could feel your heart racing against your ribs just recalling the horrific event that almost took place.

~Deciding to get a closer look, Foxy ran straight to your door when he got the chance, spotting the earring just for a moment before you slammed the door right on his snout.

~He was grumbling for a long time after that, and you noticed that the curtains to Pirate Cove stayed shut for awhile.

~After thinking about how Bonnie, Chica and Freddy took action, he decided he'd do the same, rather than running up to your door just to be shut out.

~Foxy made his way towards your office, and stood in the darkness for a few minutes without you noticing.

~Ahh, you were a sight to see!

~How cute you looked sitting there all focused on the security cameras, your lips pressed together with anxiety and your eyes flicking quickly over the cameras to catch any sign of movement.

~And the earring in your ear that glinted when the dim office light above caught it.

~Foxy felt his shaggy tail reluctantly swishing from side to side, his eye patch flipping up to take you in with both eyes.

~You were able to hear the robotic sounds of his tail moving.

~When you saw him standing there, though, you immediately shut the door.

~He had been standing a bit too close, and because of this, his nose had been bonked by the slamming door. He moved just in time, but also let out a string of angry mumbles.

~You had never seen Foxy just stand there like the other animatronics did. He always raced in to catch you. While this was an unnerving new strategy of his, you wondered what changed-

~Oh, yes. The earring. Perhaps he wanted it back.

~Just before you left the building, you put the earring on the party table that was closest to his stage, so he could take it back.

~But when you returned, you found the earring on your desk, instead.

~It was yours now, and if you tried again to give it back, the same thing would happen. It would end up on your desk again.

~Something told you this old fox had a bit of a soft side.

~~~~~~~~~

KJDHDLGH THIS IS PRECIOUS. I believe it's the most wholesome thing I've written in a long time! I LOOOOOVE the thought of Foxy with pirate jewelry!

Request Guidelines!

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Join my Discord server! We have movie nights, art prompts, a lot of places to ramble about your hyperfixations, and a ton of cool people to meet and roleplay with!:

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~Love, PinkBoots

[imtooscaredforthis]

Antagonist

Chapter Twenty Four: Alone Together

Mentions of: NSFW/Sexual Content, P in V, Oral sex, and slight drug use

A/N: Trying to post this for the fifth time today bcs tumblr fucking sucks. Enjoy!!

Tags: @vandeaad @prettycutebunny @dead-bxxxtch-walking @mama-miya

You watched as your handsome companion paced around your room nervously. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I came here. I just- I can’t stop thinking and I can’t sleep and-”

“Leon, it’s fine. Here, sit down and relax.” You told him. You would offer him another form of relaxation, but it’s the illegal kind and he kind of was a cop…so you’re not sure if he’d approve. You stuck to words of reassurance instead. “You know you can tell me anything right? We’re friends.”

He hesitated, taking a deep breath. “I can’t stop thinking…about you. I can’t get you off my mind, and it’s driving me crazy.”

Your eyes widened as you realized what he was saying. oh. Oh.

“I know it’s a lot, but it’s been killing me. I just had to tell you. I want you, _______.” You had to be dreaming, or hallucinating, or something. All you knew was that you wanted this too, more than anything.

So, you leaned in and kissed him. You kissed him hard, feeling the lust and want thrumming through your body, your heart racing. He kissed you back, slightly surprised by your actions, but reciprocating nonetheless. His lips were so soft against yours, keeping up with your quick pace.

You hadn’t done anything like this in a long time…even before you wound up here. You were far too busy with taking care of your sister, working constantly to make it by. Most of your sexual experiences had been average at best, but you had a good feeling about this one. Especially with how you could feel the butterflies and fireworks going off in your stomach as the kiss deepened.

You straddled him, pushing him back against the bed. You began to kiss down his neck, sucking hickeys into it, and nibbling occasionally. He groaned when you sucked on a sensitive spot, making him buck his hips against your lower back. You smirked as you felt his hardness pressing against you, repeating the action a couple of times.

“Wait, y-you’re sure you want this? You’re sure that I’m- that we’re not moving too fast?” He asked, slightly apprehensive as you began to unbuckle his belt.

“Yeah, You want this and I want it too. Nothing wrong with that. We’re just two adults who want to have a good time.” You pulled his pants down slightly, eyeing the bulge in his boxers. You stroked him through the material, before running your thumb over a damp patch where some precum started to leak through.

“Don’t you want to feel good?” You cooed, pressing a kiss to his earlobe.

“Yes- yes. I do. Please just- touch me.” His head fell to the side as he begged. You smirked at him, reaching inside and stroking his cock, making him moan.

You pulled away from him, moving down and positioning yourself between his legs. You wiggled his pants and boxers further down, smirking up at him. His cheeks went bright pink. “You don’t have to-”

“No but I want to, so I’m doing it.” You leaned in and pressed a small kiss to his tip. He had a pretty cock, larger than average, not too thick and not too long, with a throbbing pink tip. You opened your mouth and loosened your jaw, slowly working yourself down him.

“Oh fuck.” He moaned as you began to bob your head on him. You moved his free hand to the back of your head, letting him run his fingers through your hair and guide you.

Despite his hand in your hair, you went at your own pace, going a little faster just to watch him struggle. He gripped your hair hard, but not hard enough to be painful, his eyes rolling while he moaned. “God, You’re so good.”

He was a pretty sight, blonde hair sticking to his forehead, his face all flushed and sweaty, and pink lips parted. His chest heaved and his were thighs spread wide open, jerking in sensitivity.

“W-wait-” He moaned as you went faster, and you could feel him throbbing in your mouth. You made sure to keep eye contact as you watched him finish, committing the sight to memory.

You swallowed around him, letting him finish down your throat. Then, you pulled away with a parting kiss to his tip, making him jolt with overstimulation. “Jesus- that was- that was amazing. You’re amazing.”

Smirking, you leaned up and kissed him, brushing the hair out of his face, and letting him taste himself on your tongue. You pulled away. “Trust me, we’re just getting started.”

You removed your clothes and helped get rid of the rest of his. He kissed you, reaching down to caress your cunt. He ran two fingers over your slit, groaning at how soaked you were.

“So wet.” He mumbled against your lips, before kissing your neck gently. He rubbed slow gentle circles on your clit, and you couldn’t help but melt in his grip.

He pressed one finger in, and then two, slowly working you open. You gasped when he rubbed against that spongy spot inside, your eyes fluttering. This was so much better than you could’ve ever imagined.

You whined when he pulled his fingers out, your cunt clenching around nothing, needing to be filled. “I’m sorry- I just- I have to be inside.”

You nodded rapidly and straddled him, letting him slowly push his hips up and inside. The stretch burned just a little, before it became nothing but bliss. Once you were fully adjusted, you moved first, planting your hands on his chest and slowly rocking yourself.

Your nose brushed against his as you kissed him again, gazing down at him and watching his body. It looked like something carved out of a statue. His lean and muscular body and abs tensing with every roll of your hips.

He pushed his hips against yours, letting his cock brush against your G-spot, hitting it every single time. You moaned and dug your nails into his shoulders. It had been so long since you felt this good. Since the euphoria took over your senses and left you to just think about this.

“Fuck, Leon. Just like that.” You moaned breathlessly. He held your waist, his hips moving in unison with yours.

You were bouncing even faster against him now, and you let him lean in and wrap his mouth around one of your nipples. You arched your back, letting your eyes flutter as you moaned louder.

You had forgotten how good this felt. How good it could be. You should’ve done this a long time ago.

He rubbed at your clit and pushed into you harder, managing to get you to come first. He whined at the feeling of you pulsing around him before he finished quickly after, pulling out and climaxing on your stomach.

The two of you lay there in an exhausted heap, panting softly. You smiled over at him. “You feel better now?”

“Yeah..I do..”

It wasn’t long until he left, he had to go to a trial. You didn’t mind him going. To be honest, you weren’t sure how you felt about having him stay the night. He got dressed and walked over to you, kissing you goodbye. “I’ll see you soon.”

“See you.” Once he left, you lit a cigarette. You took a few deep drags, slipping under the blankets and melting into the mattress, satisfied, exhausted, and alone…or so you thought.

[izgnanik-a]

Suffer Does The Wolf (Crawling to Thee) i

Summary: Simon knew the exact moment when he knew he had to have you for himself. It was only a matter of time before his military skills allowed himself into your home, into your life. And once he stuck — he wasn’t going to let you back out of his webs.

Tags: non-con, stalker!Ghost, fem reader, mature content

MINORS DNI

next part ➡️

You were nothing but a civilian, or at least you should have been. But you were standing so pretty behind the bar top counter, coffee with a throw away name Simon had used on it instead of his own. Your handwriting was always decorative, with a heart over the i’s.

He had to cut into your presence and sew himself into the holes he’d torn out — just to have you.

The first time he approached the counter and you’d caught his eye; you wore a pale blue nail polish that reminded him of the chipping paint off his walls.

"What can I get for you?" Six words that seared into his mind unnecessarily. But you looked at him like a human being, despite his masked face, despite the uncanny resemblance of a Leviathan of legends, or Prometheus himself. You just gazed up at him with a smile, head swiveled so far up at him.

And then he'd realized he was standing before you, without having said a single thing. Then — he was spewing sense.

"Coffee." He grumbled.

"One coffee. Hot or iced?"

"Hot."

"What size?"

"Medium."

"Cream and sugar?"

"Black."

You glanced up at him, "Just to clarify; medium hot coffee, no cream or sugar, no flavor shots."

Simon's eyes flickered down to your apron. Pins and patches sewn into it, a nametag with a bold delicate cursive of your name along with how long you'd been working there.

Three months. And he hadn't seen you until just now, well into Autumn.

"Yes." Simon hummed as he dragged his eyes from your apron and to your face. He was already sliding his money across the counter before you could even ring him out completely. You'd thanked him and held his change back out to him.

You hadn't expected his hands to be so warm, or big, but you flashed a smile at him. "Your coffee will be right up, just stand under the pick-up sign, and we'll make that up for you, John." And you smiled at him again as he moved over to allow the long line of customers to continue.

He wanted for his coffee and sulked over to his unoccupied corner, one he favored. People didn't usually sit in the armchair because it had worn down leather on it's back, and it sat in the corner where it was dark with no wall sockets.

But he had appreciation for the dark.

He also had appreciation for the direct line of sight between tables at the register.

Simon gently hoisted his hot cup of coffee to his mouth, bringing his mask up just to free his lips before taking a gulp of the horrid thing. It was scalding, but he could hardly focus on it. He focused on your honey sweet smiles, your bright flash of quick glances, and chipper voice.

He normally would have found that despicable, would have wanted to squash it in any private he'd met, but you? He wanted it in the palm of his hands. He took his time with his coffee, using it as an excuse to stay longer. But duties had called him away.

The second time he'd come to the shop, he'd been mindful of the time. If you were on a fixed schedule, he would see you this time around if you weren't late. You'd have on some new nail polish because the old polish, he'd come to find as Coral Blue, had been a part of the summer collection from the mall.

He'd spotted it when he was passing the Sephora boutique, a display of their Summer collection on sale since the new season was on.

It was Autumn, Halloween was coming, you had to love Halloween.

Halloween was everyone's favorite holiday.

And he was right.

The new color you'd picked out was a purple matte shade, Cruel Intentions, he discovered later that week. And your eyes seemed to light up at first sight of his frame.

"Hello?" You gleamed. "What'll it be today?"

Simon met your eyes. "Coffee."

You nodded, "Hot or iced?"

"Hot."

It was the same parade every time.

"What size?"

"Medium."

"Black, right?"

Simon kept his stare firm on yours. "Yeah."

You nodded, ringing it up, and before he could even utter his false name, you set his coffee before him. "Medium hot black for John." You smiled up at him.

Simon didn't say a thing; any normal person would've been disturbed on why someone would know their order. But Simon was absolutely floored that you'd remembered him, recognized him, stuffed him into the forefront of your mind enough times to have receipts overflowing. You remembered him. But it didn't help that Simon had started coming around the same times now, same days you'd worked.

He'd hoped no one else caught on and whispered their worries to you.

Even if they did, he hoped you disregarded them and considered him just a usual customer.

He didn't want to pull the curtains back just yet. He wanted to remain in your obliviousness for a stretch of time longer, if anything, never.

Simon took the coffee from the countertop and set his money on the surface. He turned away, maybe too proud or too shy to say anything about it.

But the next time he'd come into the shop, he was going to be sure to say something. Anything. As he was coming through the front door, holding it open for another customer, he came to notice that the store had been fairly empty.

Sure, it was raining and the drive thru was packed but someone must've wanted to come inside under the cover of this rain.

He followed the dividers to the counter, and waited a moment. No one standing at the counter.

"I'll be right with you!" Simon heard and his heart lept in his chest.

You came into sight from the drive thru window, a light jacket on, and a lingering smile that only reappeared as you approached. "I'll get your coffee in just a sec—"

"Take your time." He uttered.

You gave him a thankful smile and turned back for the drive thru. You cleared two cars before returning to him with his medium hot black coffee. "One hot black coffee for you." You smiled. "Sorry for the wait, it's been non-stop in drive thru."

His eyes panned along the bar top. "Where is everyone else?"

There were usually baristas, cooks making sandwiches behind the bakery bar. But none.

"It's just me today." You shrugged. "There were a few callouts, one person is sick. We're just short staffed." You waved your hand dismissively. "It's nothing I'm not used to."

Despite being stretched in every direction, you were still standing there smiling at him. Holding the world on your shoulders and still showing your dedication to the gods.

Simon didn't put the money on the counter this time, opting to hold it out to you.

"Thank you." You hummed, flashing him your changed nails. They were that same shade of blue again.

"Coral Blue." Simon found himself mumbling under his mask.

You looked at him with a look of shock, "Hm?"

He shook his head once as you offered out the change to him. He pointed to your nails. "Coral Blue." He said again, this time with more depth. "The color."

And you glowed so beautifully. "They are." You blushed, giving them a glance over. "They're my favorite color of blue actually. I'm—" you chuckled, "I'm surprised anyone knows the exact shade. What are you, a nail tech?"

That must've been a joke. You were joking right.

You were laughing so it must've been a joke; a big guy like him, hunched over someone's nails as he added precise details. "I'm actually searching for this one shade, and I've been keeping my eye out for it all over." You waved your hand about. "It's called The Pale Horseman in the Revelations collection at Sephora. Morbid, I know. But, it's a really nice set. I just wish it wasn't so expensive."

Simon would pay any and all amounts of money to get you those sets, those shades, even call the chemist who makes them and bottles them. "I'll keep an eye out for you."

You chuckled. "That's a high price."

"I'm willing."

You nodded, your headset going off. "Well, if you do see it, let me know where it is. Tuck it away for me somewhere hidden so I can find it." You smiled, "I have to take this." You gestured to the headset. "It was nice talking to you, John." You turned for the window.

Simon didn't stay that day to drink his coffee, though he wanted to sit in his corner and drink his coffee. Watch you go from each station to make people's coffees, sharing smiles and polite greetings. But he had an assignment due.

He would find you those shades, wrap it in a nice box, and deliver it to your doorstep if he had to.

But he needed to remain nonchalant. He couldn't follow you home just yet. He needed to limit his self control.

You got into work late the next day, your shift had started an hour ago, and Simon had already come and gone. But he was worried. You were never late. Not in the two weeks he'd been watching you.

"Hey, there's a package for you here."

You turned to the comment, furrowed brows, and hummed. "For me?"

"Yeah, some guy came by, like, fifteen minutes before you came in and told us to give it to you. It's in the office."

In more confusion, you moved for the office. A small white box sat by the telephone, a red silk ribbon was been tied around it to keep the lid secure. With one pull, it was falling apart in your palm and you carefully removed the lid like you were taking apart a bomb.

You didn't know what to expect. You didn't know anyone there.

But at the center, stuffed inside of tissue paper with flakes of glitter, was a single nail polish jar of The Pale Horseman. A card had been signed and left on the underside of the lid reading: " The price is one medium black coffee -Simon "

You stared at the card and back at the nail polish, only knowing two people you'd spoken about this nail polish with recently. You were absolutely shocked that you had it in hand, knowing it was nearly impossible to find, but wielded it in your hand.

You smiled as you repackaged the nail polish, sure to wear it that night.

Fic Masterlist

Do not copy my works and post elsewhere.

[vasito-de-leche]

Hello. I saw you wrote about the 1999 reverses, can I request something Druvis III romantic with the readers? The way she reacts to lovingly treat her lover at night.

Hope you see my request. Have a good night

;R1999 DRUVIS III - "your favorite flower"

Druvis III x Reader. 800~ words. fluff During the day, she stands as the embodiment of elegance: tall and poised, unwavering under the sun. At night, she takes root by your side, seeking your warmth.

ty for your request! not sure if this is what you were looking for, but I hope you like it either way <3

Long, tangled curls tickle your face, your neck, your arms.

The copper ends of her hair brush against your skin like soft petals, until you're engulfed by her. In here, it smells like cedar, tuberose and amber. It smells like home. A wild strand falls over your eyes, another over your nose.

Your attempt to free yourself only make things worse, but then you hear her laugh. Druvis pulls back just enough to save you from suffocating and you're free to admire the sunset hues of her hair─red tips turning orange, until they finally fade into a light blonde. Her deep, emerald gaze meets you halfway at the same time her hands find yours, fingers interlocked.

And she smiles. The Sun itself looms above you, and then leans down from the stars to kiss the space between your eyebrows.

Over the years, Druvis has shown you her favorite flowers, her favorite trees. She's taken you to the most wonderful sights amidst a sea of green, from the high view atop a hill to the small, budding flowers and the patches of moss on rough bark. You remember the feeling of your bare feet against the moist dirt, the dim light of dawn and her hand in yours, guiding you to cross shallow, clear rivers. To run with her through lush flower fields and to climb or rest under the shade of massive trees on hot days.

But none of this can ever compare to her.

It almost feels sacrilegious to think about that time in the distant past when all you saw in her was a cold, aloof sort of beauty, a look of indifference cast upon the world, as opposed to the lively fire that burns within her. But that was back when you only knew of her family name. Now, you understand her better than most. Druvis isn't the sort of person who hides behind ambiguity or misleading words, she prefers to let her actions speak for her.

When it's time to show you the depth of her affections, she almost never outright says it─she shows you instead.

Sometimes, she looks at you with that adoring expression, one that makes you melt on the spot. Sometimes, she asks that you braid her hair or that you read something with her late at night before it's time to sleep. Sometimes, she takes you to see the blooming flowers within the suitcase. She lets you into her world, allowing you to read her like an open book.

Those eyes are all you need to see to know what goes within her mind, and right now you can tell she's happy. So very happy.

"Did something good happen today?" You murmur into her hair as she buries her head in the crook of your neck, taking in a deep breath. It tickles, and she must have realized because she plants a gentle apology kiss on your shoulder right after.

"Not particularly," the reply is short, like an afterthought or a preamble to the content sight that escapes Druvis.

"Just wondering. You're awfully cuddly tonight."

There's a pause.

"... Does it bother you?"

There is no visible change to her tone nor behaviour, but you notice the way she stops and freezes in place, breathlessly waiting for your reply. Oh no, absolutely not. Before her thoughts can even linger on that possibility, you shift positions─instead of laying on top of you, now she lays by your side─and you move the hair away from her lovely face. There is uncertainty in her eyes, it breaks your heart to see it.

You love her, and the quiet strength she holds. You love her, and the way she cares so deeply about the world. You love her, and you love seeing her happy. You love her, and you lack the words to let her know, and so you decide to show her.

You lean in to kiss her as sweetly as the morning dew kisses the earth in the early morning. Her arms wrap around your waist, caressing your back. This moment could've lasted for all eternity, with your mouth on hers, parting only to whisper sweet nothings and words of reassurance, but the moment Druvis reciprocates the kiss with as much fervor as she can muster, her hair follows.

And oh, God. It tickles so bad.

"Hm? W-wait, wait-!" You're interrupted over and over by her lips, and it's only when you start chuckling and laughing that she opens her eyes and stops.

"Sorry! It's just─pfft! It got to my neck, sorry! Ahh, that really ruined the moment, right? Just when I thought I could look cool in front of you for once ..."

Druvis silently watches as you sit up, shaking off that tingling and ticklish sensation. And just when you're about to apologize one more time, you feel her lips on the nape of your neck. This time, there's no need to turn around and look into her eyes to know just how smitten and endeared she is by you. You just hope she doesn't comment on how red the tips of your ears must be by now.

"It's okay, love. You can try again, and again. As many times as you'd like."

[clangenrising]

Month 11 - Leafbare

Content Warning: This piece includes content that may be triggering to some viewers. See previous piece for details.

Prev | First | Next

Mystique was good at her job. Scorch spent the week trying to sneak out of the house at odd times of day but the Folk made that difficult. At least, she was starting to realize, they didn’t actually care how she spoke to them. Whether she pleasantly asked if they would please consider her request or she loudly demanded they open the door right this second, they smiled at her and spoke her words back in their garbled accents. The only rule seemed to be not to shout while they were asleep, which was unfortunate given their strange sleeping habits. Scorch was starting to feel more like the queen of the house than a servant of her Folk. 

Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to help her in her attempts to escape. Every time she slipped out the back she was able to slink across the yard at best before Mystique jingled over the fence with a friendly greeting. It was frustrating, to say the least.

That was until the Folk started tinkering with the garden door. She tried to examine what they were doing but the kit Folk quickly carried her away. It wasn’t until after dinner that they took her over to the door and showed her the new tunnel they had made just for her. Excitement thrummed through her and she spent a few minutes just going back and forth through it, testing its limits. She even indulged the kit Folk in a game when they started poking the feather wand through the flap to tease her. 

She was free! Now it would only be a matter of time before she managed to slip out under Mystique’s nose and from there she would have no trouble in getting back to the wilderness, assuming fortune was in her favor. She spent the evening playing with her kit Folk and enjoying the warmth of the house knowing that soon she would have to bid them all goodbye. Around dusk, she spotted Mystique walking along the top of the fence and she waved from her window with a wide smile. So long, sucker.

That night, once the Folk had gone to bed and she’d spent a good hour or so trying to get out of her collar to no success, she stepped out into her garden and let the sharp cold of night wash over her. She smiled, took a deep breath, and let it out, watching the fog spill into the air. Turning, Scorch slunk around the side of the house headed for the front yard. She would take the road rather than the fences. That would minimize the chances of being seen by any house cats who might be hanging around. 

A sudden rustle from her bushes caught her attention. Her gaze snapped in that direction. Her ears strained for another sound, eyes searched for some identifying feature. It was a cat, that was certain, a thin dark shape crouching in the leaves. Scorch lifted her head and glared at the creature, putting on all the airs her station as Exalted afforded her. 

“Who dares skulk around my garden, spying on me?” she asked, tail twitching upright.

The shape shuffled awkwardly and a skinny dark blue and white molly poked her head out of the greenery to squeak, “A-apologies, your grace! I wasn’t spying, I promise!” 

“Then what were you doing?” Scorch scoffed, stepping closer to look the cat over. She was thin as a twig and incredibly scruffy, with patches of missing fur and big copper eyes. 

“Um,” the cat paled, seemingly unable to come up with another excuse. “I- well-” 

“What’s your name, Chaff?” snapped Scorch, enjoying the power she held. If it weren’t for Razor, she might have liked to stick around. Being exalted wasn’t so bad. 

“M-midge, your grace,” the cat whispered reedily. 

Scorch huffed in amusement. “A tiny fly. Fitting.” 

“Y-yes, your grace,” said Midge, ducking her head in reverence. 

“Now, Midge, when I ask a question, I expect the truth, do you understand?” asked Scorch and Midge nodded frightfully. “Good. What are you doing in my garden?” 

“Um,” Midge shuffled nervously. “I was told to watch the house. A-and follow you if you left.” 

“So spying,” Scorch glared.

Midge gulped. “I-I suppose.” 

“Who told you to watch me, Midge?” Scorch said quietly, her voice as cold and hard as steel. 

“It was Ghost, your grace!” Midge said immediately. “Please, don’t be upset with me! It was him!” 

“I will feel how I please!” Scorch snapped, causing Midge to flinch and a spike of exhilaration to leap into Scorch’s belly. Stars, power felt good! “Did he say why he wanted you to watch me?” 

“No,” Midge shook her head quickly. “Just that you were never to be alone! Please, I was just doing as I was told, if you must be angry, spare this humble servant!” She cowered, her tail tucked beneath her and her chin on the ground, eyes turned downward. 

Scorch hummed thoughtfully. This wasn’t good. What was Ghost up to? Why was he sending cats to spy on her? Maybe he thought she was planning to make good on her promise to murder him. The idea gave her a laugh. Still, this was troublesome. She needed to get away quickly and quietly and this was going to complicate things. 

Mind turning quickly, she swished her tail and said, “I will consider it. Now be gone and do not let me catch you here again.” 

“I-” Midge hesitated, body rigid. “I can’t, I-” She swallowed. “If Ghost finds out-” 

“Forget about Ghost,” Scorch purred dangerously. “Worry about what I will do if you stay.” She wasn’t planning to hurt the cat much. The threat was probably enough to get what she wanted. Still, if a swipe over the ears was needed she wasn’t afraid to do so. 

Midge swallowed again, the blood draining from her ears. “I- Please, your grace, I can’t-”

“Do not make me ask again,” Scorch hissed, stepping closer and Midge flinched away. She seemed about to open her mouth to protest again and Scorch had to admit her dedication was impressive but, before either of them could speak, another voice sounded from around the corner of the house. 

“It’s alright, Midge,” said Ghost, stepping into view with a frown on his face. “You’re relieved of duty. You can go.” 

Midge trembled. “Forgive me, Ghost, I-”

He raised his tail to stop her, “You’re fine. Go home.” 

“Y-yes, sir,” she nodded and, with one last glance at Scorch, sprinted off down the side of the house and into the night.

Ghost turned to Scorch with a nonchalant expression and said, “I had a feeling you’d give her trouble.” 

“Did you forget our last discussion, Ghost?” she growled, eyes sharp and furious. 

He twitched one ear, unphased. “I kept my half of the deal. You’re the one who came back here.” She bristled, tail lashing, but she knew he was right. Besides, she wasn’t exactly interested in the dirty business of killing him, even if her life would be easier with him gone. 

“Why are you sending little flies to spy on me?” she asked, changing subject. 

“Razor’s orders, I’m afraid,” Ghost sighed. Scorch’s stomach twisted and her paw pads grew clammy. “Now that you have your own flap, Mystique is going to have a hard time keeping eyes on you and he doesn’t want you wandering off on your own.”

“Why not?” she asked, trying to feign innocence, but the tightness of her throat betrayed her. “Doesn’t he trust me?”

Ghost rolled his eyes. “No. He’s still pretty sure you tried to run off on him. It’s going to take some convincing if you want back into his good graces.” Scorch felt sick. She knew what kind of “convincing” he would want. She had to leave tonight.

“I’m going back,” Scorch declared, “and you’re going to let me.” 

“Now, why would I do that?” he asked, frowning deeper. That was a good question.

“Because,” she said, the words coming to her tongue a second before she could really think them through, “I can convince your Smokyrose to leave. I can keep her and your kittens safe.” That was a stretch. She didn’t even know if that was something he actually wanted. He had seemed to care when she had spoken to him last but she had no idea what would have changed to make him worry for this litter over the dozens of others. 

It seemed she had chosen well. His frown changed from an unimpressed sort of scowl to a tight-lipped, furrowed-browed look of concern. “You really think so?” 

Scorch couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. “You really care about them, don’t you?! What’s so different? What makes this girl so special?” 

The scowl returned. “I don’t know… I’m getting older. I’m getting tired of coming home to an empty den.” He sat down with a thump, looking askance. 

Scorch shook her head. “I think you just liked that she made you feel like you weren’t a scumbag.” She realized, terrifyingly, she was speaking from experience. “There was something fun in pretending you were the cat she thought you were, wasn’t there?” 

“Maybe,” his tail started to twitch irritably and he fixed her with a firm glare. “Answer the damn question, Scorch. Do you really think you can keep them safe?” 

“I do,” she lied seamlessly. She hadn’t had much luck in convincing Goldenstar yet but maybe a few weeks dealing with Razor had softened her up. Maybe it wasn’t too late. She held Ghost’s gaze as he thought. The silence dragged on for a few painfully long seconds as the cold stung her ears. Eventually, Ghost shook his head and sighed. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Cats will know that I saw you tonight. If you go missing…” 

“You coward,” she spat, spine arching upward. “You have the chance to do something right for once and you’re going to throw it away-”

“Listen here-”

“- to save your own skin!” 

“You’re one to talk!” Ghost snarled, rising to his feet again. Scorch bristled and bared her teeth. Maybe she would kill him. Goldenstar had taught her enough, there was a chance she could hold her own in a fight against an old cat like Ghost. If she couldn’t… well that would be a whole other problem. If she did something so rash there would be no pretending when Razor came to call. Her excuses would disappear like the fog from her lips and leave her defenseless. The guard on her house would only increase. She would never escape. Her blood was pounding in her ears, it took everything she had to focus on what Ghost was saying. 

“All you ever do is think about your own skin!” he continued. “You say what you need to and nothing more! How do I know you would even keep your promise? I mean, you’re just as likely to run off in the opposite direction!” 

“Like you’re any better,” she laughed harshly. “You sit back and you do what you’re told like a good little boy because if you do you get your pick of the food and the females and your tiny little brain can’t think to want for anything more than that!” 

“I take care of people!” he hissed. “I have cats who need me! You have no one!” 

Scorch’s ears pressed back against her head. She knew he was right. As much as the little voice in the back of her head tried to argue, she was utterly alone and always had been. How could he ever understand what it was like walking in her pawsteps? She felt tears starting to prick at her eyes and that only made her angrier. She opened her mouth with a cutting retort but stopped at the sound of a jingling bell and the rattling of the back fence as Mystique leapt from her garden and into Scorch’s. 

“What’s going on here?” she called. Scorch immediately turned to her and started to sob. At least she could make the tears useful. 

“Mystique!” she wailed, retreating in on herself. Just as expected, her big blue bodyguard bounded swiftly to her side. 

“I heard shouting,” she said as Scorch pressed her face into her thick chest fur, “what’s going on?” She looked at Ghost and her eyes narrowed. Ghost’s mouth hung open. This situation did not look good and he knew it. Scorch smirked at him with one eye as she continued to sniffle. Seeing that, his eyes flashed with anger. 

“Scorch and I were just having a discussion, that’s all,” he said carefully.

Scorch shook her head and pouted. “He was threatening me,” she said. 

“I was not!” he hissed, backing up a step. 

“He was!” she said, sitting back and sniffling. “He said I have to owe him favors if I want to go out at night!” Ghost swallowed and took another step back. A low growl rumbled in Mystique’s chest. 

“Ghost…” she said dangerously and Scorch could see the fear in his eyes. It tasted rich and just, like prey blood on her tongue. 

“Mystique- Your grace,” he said, ducking a bit into a bow. “I can assure you I said no such thing. I was simply informing her of the arrangement we discussed earlier.” Scorch huffed bitterly and leaned her head on Mystique’s shoulder. 

“I thought we agreed female guards only,” said Mystique. Razor’s idea, certainly, Scorch thought. He didn’t want the guards to be rivals for her affections. 

“We did, your grace,” he said. “I was supervising the guard to make sure nothing went wrong. When Scorch dismissed her I stepped in.” 

“Hmf,” Scorch rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you picked a flighty guard on purpose. To get me alone.” Mystique glanced down at her with a raised eyebrow and she turned her expression back to a shaken one, giving an extra sniffle for emphasis. 

“I’ll overlook your transgression tonight, Ghost,” said Mystique, turning back to him. She sounded more annoyed to be out of bed than she did angry with Ghost. “Don’t let me catch you here again, though, or my brother will hear about it.” 

“Yes, your grace,” Ghost bowed his head respectfully but Scorch could see his eyes burning holes into her pelt. “Thank you.” Mystique flicked an ear and with one last glare, Ghost slank off into the night. Mystique sighed and let her posture relax. 

“I’m lucky you came to rescue me,” Scorch said, batting her eyelashes and settling her fur over her shoulders like a proper lady. “He can be such a brute.” 

“He didn’t actually say any of that stuff to you, did he,” said Mystique with an impassive expression. Scorch let out a breath as her words briefly failed her. She smiled, trying to find the right lie to get Mystique to believe her. 

“No,” she eventually sighed in defeat. “But he did say plenty of other rude things.” She swished her tail over her paws and turned to study the way the slivered moon illuminated the shrubs in the garden. 

“Any I need to know about?” Mystique asked. Scorch twitched an ear in her direction. She sounded genuinely concerned at least. 

“No…” Scorch sighed. “It's… personal.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. As much as she hated to admit it, he had struck her close to home with his last barb. She was entirely and inarguably alone. 

Mystique settled down beside her and wrapped her tail around Scorch’s back. “You guys used to be close right?” 

Scorch sighed. “You could say that,” she shrugged, rolling her eyes to the heavens. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” 

Scorch tilted her head to look at Mystique. The other cat had fixed her with a sort of tough love look, a look that said she was open but not vulnerable and ready to listen. How very tomboyish of her, Scorch thought. She considered saying no and she knew Mystique would leave it at that but she also knew it was only a matter of time until she satisfied her curiosity somewhere else. No, it was better for Scorch to take control of the narrative, give her some of the truth but not all of it. 

“Well, you know how he is,” Scorch said. “Always moving from one conquest to the next.”

“I’ve heard,” Mystique grimaced a little. “Did you two ever…” She trailed off, looking unsure. 

Scorch laughed. “No. No, he’s a simple boy, really. I knew he would get bored if he ever got what he wanted so I led him on. It wasn’t too hard.” She left out the fact that she had sought him out in the first place, that she had arranged a meeting that seemed like coincidence. She had known he was in charge and that had meant he had the power to keep her safe so long as she played it right. She’d walked a careful line between tantalizingly holding herself just out of reach and laying her affection on thick enough to keep him stuck on her. She’d played the jealous flirt, kept other girls at bay, made sure he had eyes only for her. She wondered if he hated her for that, if he was bitter over the months he’d gone without in the hopes of having her. Serves him right, she thought with a smirk, the old bastard.

“So what happened?” Mystique asked, drawing Scorch’s attention back to more unpleasant things. 

“I met Razor,” she said simply. 

“Ahh,” Mystique smiled sympathetically. “Let me guess, he wouldn’t take no for an answer.” She said it like it was a charming thing.

“You have no idea,” Scorch laughed but inside she felt a thousand miles away. She remembered the way he had pestered her, the way he’d shown up when she’d least expected him, the way he’d cornered her against a wall more than once and she’d had to find an excuse to leave. She remembered his gaze, his voice, his heat. “But he won me over, you know? I was the one who chose him.”

She remembered the night she’d decided to humor him. If Ghost had kept her safe, she’d reasoned, imagine the security that would come with being Razor’s girl! It had been a calculated gamble - if she could lead him on she would be untouchable - and she had bet on her talents with the opposite sex to keep her safe. 

She remembered how foolish and arrogant she had been. She remembered how quickly she had realized her mistake. Ghost enjoyed the chase. He loved the word play and the fleeting touches and the game of it and so had she, to some extent. Razor didn’t play. He toyed. He insisted. And she had given him what he wanted with a smile and all the while she had been thinking, how do I get out of this? 

And now she was trapped again. He had made sure of it. There was no way out of the neighborhood. No sure way, at least. Whatever escape attempt she made would be risky and the consequences of failure would be severe. Razor was the kind of tom who did things to show you he could, who took what he didn’t need just to make you feel small. If she tried to leave and failed… 

“Are you alright?” 

Scorch inhaled sharply and blinked away the tears starting to freeze on her cheeks. When had she started crying? Mystique leaned in worriedly. Scorch laughed in embarrassment, breath fogging heavily in front of her, and daintily wiped the droplets away.

“Oh, yes,” she lied with a smile. “Sorry, I just miss him.” 

“Yeah,” Mystique’s worry softened into a frown. Scorch couldn’t tell if she was convinced or not. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to be convincing or not. “Why don’t you go get some sleep.”

“That’s a good idea,” nodded Scorch. They both stood, shaking out their fur against the cold. 

“Hey, how about we go see Portia soon,” Mystique offered. “Get your Name Charm interpreted!” 

“Oh,” Scorch blinked. “Yes, that's… that’s a lovely idea, Mystique.” She had entirely forgotten. There was a new name, her Folk’s name for her, hanging around her neck. There were cats who claimed they could tell what it was. 

“Just pick the day,” Mystique said. “And I’m sorry about the night guards. Razor is worried about you, that’s all.” 

“I understand,” said Scorch. “No apology necessary. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

With that, she turned and slipped through her flap. The house was warm and pristine as ever. The air buzzed with the sounds of sleeping machinery. Scorch found her way to the mother Folk’s den and leapt onto the bed then settled down next to her warm face, curling her tail around herself tightly. The human stirred and sneezed. Groggily, she looked around and spotted Scorch through squinted eyes. 

“Did I wake you?” Scorch mewed quietly. She felt soggy, like the tears she hadn’t cried were soaking into her being and weighing her down. All she wanted to do was sleep. The human grumbled something in her own tongue and rolled over, pulling Scorch down under the blankets and against her chest. Scorch purred sadly, butting up against the human’s chin. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. She snuggled in and tried to drift away. It was nice to imagine, at least for tonight, tucked carefully into such a warm and quiet nest next to her Folk, that she wasn’t alone.