#like is one way more correct than the other??? I wonder about this so much

[dark-dragon-8]

A Supernatural × Batman crossover where the Batfam are actual cryptids and the brothers are sent to hunt them, only to find out that these guys are pretty much immortal, god like beings whose only weaknesses are each other, the sun and some weird sentient manifestation of their home city that they seem to care about, and most of them already grew out of the second one, since, apparently, the sun only affects them when they're newborns/newly transformed/changed.

The whole reason they ended up in Gotham in the first place was because of some online rumors saying that there is a demon cult in the city, as well as Blüdhaven [it's true, partially, the Bat clan has had several cults and/or religions painting them as godly beings/saviours of Gotham throughout the years, still do (imagine the colonies from F'ing Demon Bats, only this time the cryptid part of them is actually real)] along with shrines for human sacrifices.

At first they thought the locals sold themselves to a Pagan God in exchange for their safety, that the shrines and "holy grounds" spread throughout the city were for blood and human sacrifices and the creatures were feeding on the souls of their followers or something.

Turns out, that couldn't be further from the truth. Yes there were bloody sacrifices at the shrines, but most of the time those were just grieving kids bringing their dead pets to silence's holy grounds for them to be healed, or taken care of, by the spirit and have their souls at peace. But, again, that was rare, and only occurred at the holy grounds themselves rather than the shrines people attended to daily.

Majority of those shrines were filled with books, art supplies, music boxes with ballerinas and, sometimes, you could even find a few trinkets and computer parts, as well as the occasional plates and plastic boxes filled with home cooked meals, sometimes they even put pots and kettles filled to the brim with savory goods and nice tea. Nobody ever touched the food, not even the poor and desperate, when asked why all the brothers received were looks of horror and hushed whispers about how "The bats don't like thieves" and "They'll stop coming by the shrine, maybe even destroy it if we do that"

Dean didn't like it, neither did Sam, they didn't like how the locals, people who barely even bat an eye when they see a dead body on their way to work, get so scared and terrified as soon as they hear of something that might displease the Bats. They tried asking around, trying to figure out what is it that makes them so scared of their dearly beloved deities, after all, they talk about them like such a wonder, like they're the best thing that ever happened to them. Hell, one of them is named Mercy and was revered for its compassion and understanding of those around them.

They only got their answer when investigating a place called Crime Alley. They locals were all the same, if not even more reserved than their city's counterparts, but there was one person, a young girl who couldn't be older than ten that said she'll be willing to answer their questions in return for some money and stories from their time as hunters. They were reluctant at first, but seeing as they haven't had much of an option, they agreed.

"So, Masey" Dean started

"Missy" she corrected

"Right, sorry, Missy, you said that you could tell us what's up regarding those demons"

"Deities" she said sternly, the man simply nodded "And yes, I can do that, but you'll have to do something for me first"

"And what would that be?"

"You said you were a hunter, right?" He nodded "And you also said you have some money. So I want you to give me two hundred dollars, cash, and a written story containing at least three of your adventures with your partner. You can't use big fonts, lie or omit any details from the story, it needs to be one hundred percent real and legible and needs to be at least fifty pages, understood?"

Dean was confused, confused and worried. Why would this child need a story about them hunting monsters? And why did she need it to be so long and accurate? Was she trying to sell them out to the Bats or something? Why was this so important?

A million questions flooded his head and looking at Sammy, he could tell the feeling was very much mutual.

"Um Missy" it was Sam talking to her this time "Why would you want a story of us hunting like that? We could tell you about our time together on the field, if you want, but why do you need that written so meticulously?"

The little girl shook her head before he even finished speaking "No, no, I need it written"

"How so?"

"For Passion, of course"

"Passion?"

"Yeah, Passion, the component watching over Crime Alley, it loves reading stories but only when they're worth it. It doesn't like when people give them stories only to please it or for it to give them undeserved attention. It needs to be good and interesting, a story about two hunters will definitely do that"

The two hunters met each other's eyes, both their expressions filled with worry, apprehension and suspicion.

"And why all the other rules? Why does have to be so long and accurate?"

The girl tilted her head, looking at them as though they've said something stupid "Because you're introducing yourself, maybe"

"I can't just tell you guys all there is to know about the Bat without at least one of the components acknowledging you guys and giving me permission to share that information with outsiders"

"And what makes you think it won't just kill us as soon as it realizes what we do for a living?" They might've been desperate, but that doesn't mean they're going to give an essay about their weaknesses and hunting methods to a freaky, probably homicidal spirit on a silver platter

"Because they like people like you, people who put their lives on the line in order to help those around them. Also" she leveled her gaze with Dean's, which was pretty impressive considering she barely reached his hip "Had it wanted you dead, you wouldn't have been able to take two steps inside Crime Alley without having a heart attack, or your head magically disappearing"

The two brothers tensed, the taller's eyes rapidly scanning their surroundings, hands fishing out a weird cellular device, probably an EMF reader or maybe a bottle of holy water, as the shorter failed to keep up his confident facade in front of the (probably) ten year old (because Dean isn't going to be spooked by a kid that hasn't even reached the double digits yet, he's 𝘯𝘰𝘵)

The little girl laughed, completely ignoring their - very justified!!! - panic "Relax, would ya? Passion doesn't kill people unless they feel like it's necessary"

They didn't seem to be very relaxed, she didn't care, she just told them to meet her again on the border of Crime Alley and its neighbor city in a week, before leaving.

Two hours later, Carrie Kelley was skipping into the main living room of Wayne Manor, where several of her siblings played video games and with their father reading the newspaper on the side, the perfect illusion of a normal, happy, completely human family.

She walked up to Bruce, sitting on the arm of his sofa as the last of her illusion magic slipped away

"Did you do it?"

"I offered them the deal, still not sure if they'll end up actually agreeing to it"

"Mn. You did well"

The young teen preened under the praise, thanking her father before going off to boast and scheme with the rest of her siblings, they were up planning contingencies and devising plans until Sundown.

[aizenat]

I’m nit picking, but the claim ^ about white women “vote much less for Trump” is straight false.

Yall were the largest voting block and still voted 8% more for trump lol. That percentage is higher than the difference between the amount of white white men who voted for trump vs white women who did. Yall were very aligned with your white male counterparts.

Like stop this lie because those of yall who didn’t vote for trump don’t want to reconcile that your female friends and family members would rather vote for a rapist than a black and Asian woman. Call it out and correct it instead of trying to excuse it and misrepresent it.

That said, I hope some scared white women do start shooting black men. As you can see, while a large/overwhelming majority of Black men voted for Kamala, literally over 1/5 of them voted for Trump. Meaning any Black woman who knows more than 5 black men knows at least a few trump supporters (and most of us know and are related to well more than 5 lol). So they ain’t on our side neither. The ONLY group to show up for Kamala outside of black women (of all ages) were black people (of any gender) over the age of 65. And hmm, I wonder why THAT specific group would show up in droves and vote overwhelmingly for Kamala. Almost like something they would have experienced irl back in the 60s would have made them value democracy and the importance of voting more than any other groups. Can’t imagine what that could have been.

Either way, too many black men either didn’t vote or voted for Trump. And already the coons are out celebrating. Maybe if they get shot by some racist white women and black women don’t march because we’re done supporting all yall just for yall to betray us and ignore us, more black men will realize the racist whites, white women, and other races don’t fuck with them the way they thought they did. And that no amount of getting passports to other countries will protect them from good ole fashioned American racism. And maybe they’ll learn that BLACK WOMEN were the ONLY group to have their backs and they’ll finally stfu and listen to us.

And if not, maybe we’ll luck out and the racist white women who shoot them will shoot the manosphere parroting idiots and then we don’t have to hear them anymore.

I don’t give a fuck anymore. Anything to keep these men in line, OF ALL RACES (Latino men, yall are on notice too lol), we need to do it. Ladies get guns, go to shooting ranges, LEARN GUN SAFETY, and if you do need to use one irl, shoot to kill and BE PREPARED TO KILL. If he’s coming at you, it’s you or him. Choose yourself every time and TAKE HIM OUT. Make men afraid for fucking once. I want men to be so afraid to approach a woman because they don’t know if they’re going to get pepper sprayed, tased, or shot at. Shoot/spray/tase first, and ask questions later. Kill them and let their Abrahamic god sort through them. Not our job to do that: keep yourself safe.

I keep seeing women talking about buying guns now that men are so boldly talking about taking away their rights to bodily autonomy and like. I get it. I really do. But the thought of gun ownership in America massively increasing to use against people the gun owner perceives as a potential rapist when the stereotypical image of a rapist in US culture is so racially defined… you see how that could be an issue?

So, again, I get it. But I’m also worried about how long it’s going to be before a black man is shot dead by a white woman who thought he seemed like a rapist.

[mistriavalley]

Alex with an insecure chubby farmer (gn!farmer)

Note: Got this idea from @hermits-crab. I also had sm fun writing this! I struggle a lot with my own body image so writing these headcanons brought me some comfort :3

TW: negative body image, negative comments from the past, farmer is insecure, mentions of bullying from the past

Masterlist

Alex has never and will never give you any reason to feel insecure or self conscious about your body. He worships not only you, but the ground you walk on as well and he honestly would have never thought that you'd feel bad about your looks. You're perfect in his eyes. Godlike even

But while he rolls out the red carpet for you, you still can't help yourself. Alex is so athletic and fit and you feel like people are judging you for being on the bigger side. Of course no one has ever said anything regarding that in Pelican Town. On the contrary, when you confided in Haley she praised you and your figure

You still can't help, but to wonder what his friends in the city or from gridball practice might be saying when Alex shows them pictures of you though. Are they saying "you lucky bastard" or "as long as you're happy"? It's eating you up from the inside, but you don't wanna bother your partner with that

And when you guys go on a date or shopping in the city, do the people around you actually stare at you and whisper amongst themselves or are you just imagining it? Nevertheless, the thought alone that someone might be judging you makes you wrap your arms around yourself to hide

It takes an embarrassingly long time for Alex to notice anything and even then he only does, because it's painfully obvious in that moment. Like you're out on a beach date and you refuse to get out of your baggy t-shirt even though you're obviously suffering from the scorching heat. That's when it clicks inside his head and his heart breaks

He walks you back to your farm after the beach date and sits down with you to talk about it. He wants you to trust him with these things and for you to know that you can talk to him about anything. When he hears how worried you are about what others might think when they see "someone like him" with "someone like you" he grabs both your hands and squeezes them gently

After he asks why you'd worry about such a thing, you explain how you've gotten comments thrown at you in the past and how every single one stuck with you to this day. It makes him angry and he wishes he would have met you sooner so he could punch every single person who has made you feel bad

Alex knows what it's like though. His father has made him feel like shit his entire childhood, but you've helped him get rid of these negative thoughts and he wants to do the same for you. There is obviously no pressure, because he understands that you can't shake these chains off in one day, but he'll do everything to make you feel loved and appreciated

That evening and every single one afterwards, he leads you to bed where he showers every inch of your body with kisses and praises. Also due to him working out so much and his lifestyle in general, he knows a lot about the human body. So if you stumble upon a "fitness guru" online talking about how unhealthy it is to do this or look like that, Alex is jumping in immediately to correct the person before it gets to your head

"But my BMI-" "No. Don't. BMI is a faulty system in more ways than just one. I'm not in the green area either, because of the weight from my muscles."

Or when he notices that you refuse to get a second serving even though you're still hungry or when you decide not to order a desert when you clearly want one. "You have to eat if you're hungry, baby. You're doing hard physical work on your farm every single day and your body needs the energy."

"I've gained weight again..." "Baby, listen to me. I'm 100%- no 500% certain that those are just muscles. You're lifting, pushing and pulling stuff on your farm from morning to evening. It's fine. You are fine."

[emmaspolaroid]

I was deliriously tweeting the other night and made myself laugh so hard I cried

[mostly-imagines]

The Alchemy vol. II

jason todd x fem!reader

aka the progression of your relationship with the red hood

part one

warnings: depictions of blood and injury, standard gotham violence, jason doesn't know how to have feelings, reader is angry, threats against readers life, implied concern of sexual assault

It might be a matter of deficiency in self-preservation skills, how the sound of your window sliding open does nothing to phase you. You don’t know if that’s your fault or his.

“How’s it goin’ down there?” You mumble, not sitting up from your position on the couch.

He pushes the window shut in his wake, huffing. “I am up here for a reason,” he says factually.

You crane your head back just in time to see him tug the red helmet off his head, setting it down on your side table. He has on his under-mask that covers the lower half of his face. You don’t like that one.

He glances around your apartment as he approaches with slow steps. “Why are all the lights off?”

“Forgot to turn ‘em on,” you tell him simply.

He frowns at you, confusion evident.

You pay him no mind though, taking an exaggerated breath and pushing yourself up off the couch before trotting over to the kitchen. You open the fridge and scrummage for a water bottle. Jason thinks it’s odd how long it takes you to find one in your own fridge. 

Once it's (eventually) in your hands, you chug down several gulps and toss the half empty bottle towards the counter where it lands with a sloppy thump and rolls.

When you return, he’s leant against the armrest of your chair, watching you. You stop in the middle of the room, a contemplating stare on the floor. He tilts his head at you, wondering what you could possibly be thinking so hard about.

You take a deep breath before plopping down to lay on the carpet all in one go. 

He peers down at you, barely trying to hide his amusement. “You’re drunk.”

You shake your head, “I’m not sober.”

“That’s—yeah.” He stands all the way, coming to lay down on the floor next to you, using significantly more coordination than you had.

He lays in between you and the couch, though it doesn’t seem you’d left him much room. If he minds, it doesn’t show. “What’d you do?”

“I jus’ went out with my friend,” you tell him, closing your eyes. “She moves pretty fast..”

It occurs to him that you might be laying on the ground because you got nauseous. He turns to look at you, scanning you over. “You good?”

“I feel great,” you keen. “I feel…swooshy.”

He gives you a bemused look. “Dizzy?”

You shake your head with a great deal of consideration on your face, “No, not even dizzy, just…swoosh.” You throw out a hand with a theatrical flick.

“Mhm.”

You pucker your lips to the side. “You come here a lot,” you comment, clearly working up to some greater observation.

“You’re in my neighborhood,” he shrugs. 

Your head tilts, “You live here?”

He pauses before correcting himself, “My territory.”

You hum, “Still. There has to be other people around here you know. ‘Specially if you’re passing out on balconies on the reg.”

He frowns, “I try not to make a habit out of it.”

You continue on, “Why do you always go to my apartment? There’s—”

“I don’t always come to your apartment—”

You deadpan, “You’re here like three nights a week. And I don’t even help you that much anymore, you’ve used up my whole first aid kit.”

You can literally feel the eyeroll like you have a sixth sense for it. “That thing wasn’t exactly impressive to start with..”

“Did enough for you, didn’t it? Anyways, my point is: I think you like me,” you say with a nod.

That has him going absolutely rigid, “What?”

“I’ve heard you’re an asshole.”

“What?”

You nod, “Like, people that run into you. They say you’re kind of a dick. You help ‘em ‘n everything, but also while being a dick. Sometimes.”

“Okay...”

“But you’re nice to me. Sort of,” you squint. “I think you like me.”

He hasn’t felt this straggled in a conversation in a while. “I—well I’m not here because you’re a world-class medic.”

You scoff, “There’s no world-class medics..” But then your tone switches up, into something lighter. “We’re friends aren’t we? I think we’re friends.” 

He shakes his head, staring up blankly. “Sure, we’re friends.”

“We’re friends and you like me,” you reiterate.

He really wishes you’d stop saying that. “Okay.”

“I like you too. Even though you’re kinda sketchy.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that.

You hum into the silence, looking up at the ceiling. “J…James, Jack, John…”

He smiles, gaze dancing across the egg-whitened popcorn texture of the ceiling. “I’m not going to tell you.”

You ignore him, “Jake, Jaden, Jason, Josh, Joe, Jesse…”

You’re about three shots too drunk to notice the way he briefly stiffens. 

“Juuhhh…” you lull your head to the side, the letter fading out slowly as you look into his eyes. If you focus, you think you can make out a few of those little specks of green again.

He seems to already be running his own study on your irises, his eyes now softer than you can remember seeing them before. 

His next words are whispered, the sounds barely escaping. “You’re pretty.”

What?

“What?”

“What?” He seems taken aback by his own words, like he also wasn’t expecting them to climb out of his mouth.

You can literally feel sobriety seeping back into your blood. “I’m…pretty?”

He blinks a few times, apparently trying hard to decide on what position he’s going to take here. “I—well…yeah.”

You blink once, relaxing. “I think…I think you’re pretty too.”

“What?”

“We can’t do this again.”

He breaks eye contact, looking almost dejected.

You turn your head down to where his hand thrums against the carpet. “I mean, I know I haven’t seen your whole face in one go, but I see the top half now and the bottom before, so I…maybe I shouldn’t be saying this.” You reset with a shallow breath, “I don’t know what your whole face looks like.”

“That was,” he blinks, eyebrows raised. “Fascinating.”

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You close your eyes again, though this time you remain facing him.

He feels a slight pang of guilt for the way he continues to ogle at you, eyes tracing over every detail of your face. But that ounce of guilt does nothing to outweigh the reward of gazing upon you. He didn’t mean to say it but he definitely meant it: you’re really fucking pretty.

Your eyelashes flutter for a moment before stilling, a display of peace washing over your features. It’s when your breathing steadies over and your face relaxes completely is when he starts to feel like a creep. It takes a lot of strength for him to force his eyes shut, depriving himself of the view.

And he doesn’t do it on purpose, but after a few moments his inhales and exhales take to the same rhythm of yours. The thin layer of the rug isn’t doing much to protect his back from the hardwood below and he’s pretty confident later he’ll curse himself for lying like this for so long. 

But as he lays, he doesn’t find himself focused on the dark red-gray of his eyelids like usual, so much as the warmth from the proximity of your bodies. He’s usually so concentrated on whatever the hell is going on in his head and it prevents him from really truly resting, but now, the only thing taking up his attention is physical sensations.

He feels this warmth in his heart that if he didn’t know any better, he’d call burning. His hands feel numb and he can distinctly feel the beat of his own heart in his chest, thrumming away.

He presses his lips to your forehead with a feather light touch, slow to pull away. He doesn’t make it all the way back to his original position before his movement lulls and his body relaxes again, joining you gladly in unconsciousness.

Gotham City has a particular gift for inconveniencing you at the worst possible moment and doing it multiple times a week.

Tonight's round of problems resulted in an entire city district getting shut down, the district which is regrettably right between your job and your apartment.

So on top of having to hole up into your work for two hours longer than you were supposed to, it took you an extra 45 minutes getting home while trying to maneuver around every other person in the same situation. And just to cement the quality of this night, the door to your apartment building slams nice and hard against your side and the light in the hallway is out.

You groan when you fail to get your key the lock the right way for the third time, lodging it in a final time and shoving the door open. You flick on the kitchen light and dump your bag onto the counter, kicking the door shut behind you.

You take a deep breath, eyes closed, as you lean your head back against the wall. The second you crack your eyes open again, a pile of red mass on the floor behind your couch catches your attention and startles some energy right back into your chest.

“Oh, shit,” you scurry over towards the window, crumbling down onto your knees in front of him. Your eyes dart across the red helmet, trying to makeout any signs of consciousness. “Hood?” 

There’s no response from him, no movement. You tug his helmet off, finding him eyes-closed with blood running down the side of his head. You push a hand down on his chest armor, shaking him. “J? J!”

His eyes flutter open slowly under his domino mask, adjusting to the light. With the disorientation on his face he looks younger, more his age. His hair is tousled up and you can make out some distinct curls in it when it's undone like this. 

He grimaces, gloved hand coming up to his head. He looks wearily at the blood on his fingers, before plopping his hand back down and blinking up at you. “Hey..”

You sit back on your heels with a sigh, “What the fuck?”

He makes a strained effort to sit up on his own so you try to heave him up by his forearm. As he comes up all the way you glance behind his back at a bag crumpled discarded on the floor. You can barely see some sort of fabric poking out the top. “What is that?”

“Huh?” He throws back a tired glance, “Oh. They're..curtains.”

“Explain.”

He looks at you blankly, “You don’t have any curtains.”

You blink. “Explain.”

“It’s dangerous for people to just be able to look in and see you. So. Curtains.” For a guy who reads Dostoevsky, he’s not much of a wordsmith. Though that could be the concussion. 

You reach around him and pull some of the fabric out of the bag, inspecting the linen. They match the theme of your living room.

You set it back down, blinking. “Thanks.”

He only gives a half-hearted shrug.

You look back at him, “How bad is the…?” You gesture to the side of your head.

He feels at the blood again, “It’s mostly just a cut. Shoulda stopped bleeding by now.”

You nod, “I’ll, uh—I’ll clean it up.”

He looks at you, shaking his head. “You don’t need to. Your kit’s almost empty anyways.”

“I restocked it,” you tell him, rising to stand. He lets you go retrieve your aid box without protest, listening blankly to the faucet run in the bathroom while you’re gone.

You return momentarily, damp rag in one hand, kit in the other. “Here, sit on the couch,” you tell him, nodding him up. 

He lugs himself up off the hardwood and onto the cushion with a groan. You position yourself on the cushion next to him, leaning over to inspect the cut. You brush through his hair as gently as you can, though you have to suspect he wouldn’t have minded either way—if only based on the pain threshold you know him to have.

As much as you are completely in his space, you’re having trouble getting all the access you need to fix him up right. You turn and adjust your angle this way and that but none of it works. 

You huff, sitting back. “I can’t..”

He nods his permission at you without delay, and you shift yourself over to sit fully on his lap, straddling him on the sofa. You put your focus into cleaning his wound, but you have to notice how deep he’s breathing and how he’s seemingly trying very hard to avoid eye contact. You’re sure your own breath is uneven and telling, and frankly you’re kind of hoping he has a concussion just so he might not notice it.

An unexpected sting has him flinching and grabbing your hips on instinct, a certain heaviness lingering in the air after contact. His hand tenses and he’s about to remove them from you completely when you manage to catch his gaze, and the few moments of silent eye contact are enough to convince him to stay. He forces his hands to relax against your waist, his fix on your face wavering before fizzling away completely.

You go back to dabbing at the blood and it’s clear that his thoughts get the better of him quickly. “You should move.”

“But then where would you go?”

He makes a rumbling noise from the back of his throat at that, saying nothing more.

You continue to wipe away at the blood until you can’t see it anymore, beyond the slice of the cut. You misjudge your own spatial awareness as you pull back from him, and the tips of your noses graze. Though the contact surprises you, you don’t move away from it. You become very acutely aware of his touch on your waist, how warm it feels atop your shirt. 

His head leans forward just barely before stopping. He retreats slightly and his body ultimately decides to come closer. He doesn’t stop until his lips, slightly parted, skim across yours.

Your breath catches as he looms nearer, lips touching against yours softly. He tests that pressure out for a moment, before moving to kissing you with more intent. You kiss him back, and though there’s an increasing resolve on both of your parts, the connection itself remains gentle, reposeful.

The last slight movement of his lips gradually slips away as he rests his forehead against yours.

A long beat passes before he’s tightening his grip on your waist and pulling you up to stand. You aren’t given the time to process the shift as he’s moving straight past you, head down. He pauses only when he gets to the window, back turned to you.

“Sorry—I’m…” his shoulders drop, “Sorry.” 

He climbs out and scales the fire escape in total silence until he’s gone completely.

You stand frozen in position, staring at the window with incredulity burning across your face.

What the fuck?

Two weeks pass of voided midnight visits. 

You’re not sure what to make of that. He kissed you, not the other way around. You couldn’t possibly have done something to upset him or throw him off since he’s the only one who did anything. All in all, it’s a little disappointing.

There had been tension there and it wasn’t shocking for you to learn that he wanted to kiss you. It was a bit of a surprise for him to actually do it, though not a bad one. But you were thrown for a grand fucking loop when he immediately bailed out.

Maybe you can’t read him as well as you think because you’d expected him to at least say something about it. It was a borderline given that he would come back and there would be a bonus surplus of tension but then there would be a resolution. Because he wouldn’t kiss you and then never come back. Nobody would do that, it doesn’t make sense.

It’s a little more than embarrassing to admit that you’ve been purposefully staying home in the hope that he’ll drop in. After fifteen nights of disappointment, you decided to put your focus elsewhere.

You’d asked a friend of yours to go out with you tonight, and never one to decline a night out, she agreed happily. 

The bell above the door jingles as you crack it open, peaking your head in. You find Chloe quickly, stood behind the bar with bottles in hand.

“Hey gorgeous,” she smiles at you, waving you in.

You step in, air conditioning hitting you hard. The sparkles on her cocktail dress catch your eye as she turns this way and that, trying to find the right spot for the whiskey. 

Chloe hums to herself as she searches, honestly taking a bit longer than she should. “You been cool?”

You nod, “Yeah, just—you know…” She doesn’t. Your affiliation with the Red Hood is something you’ve kept to yourself, though you don’t know why. It would be safer, more responsible to let someone else know about these drop-ins, but something about it feels personal. A strange feeling to tack onto it, you think. A regrettable one, at least. 

You take a deep breath, “You’ve been busy. Jessie call out again?”

She laughs dryly, “Oh yeah, of course. But it's fine, I love staying over an hour after close.” She sighs, “I’m almost done anyway.”

You circle around the bar, looking over the several yet-to-be-sorted bottles. “You need help?”

“No, there’s—” she cuts herself off as she looks over at the front door, face dropping. “Oh, shit. Duck.”

“Wha—” she yanks you down to the floor to crouch awkwardly behind the counter.

You hear the bell ring as the door swings open, followed by several pairs of footsteps and low voices.

“—Christ, if she forgets to lock the door one more fucking time I’m gonna kill her.”

You look at Chloe through furrowed eyebrows, her grip on you still tight. She shakes her head and puts a finger to her lips.

A second man mutters something you can’t make out.

The first voice continues, “Go around back and lug the crates in, we gotta start packing that shit.” 

Another voice, “The crates? They’re not here..”

There’s a heavy beat before the first voice speaks, “What the fuck do you mean they’re not here? She needs them now.”

“Well…the first shipments will be in later this week. The next batch’ll take until the end of the month, probably.”

A sigh, “Dumbass…”

The first voice huffs, “The end of the month? Are you fucking kidding me? I told you to get that shit ready weeks ago and you’ve got it coming in at the end of the month?” 

“I’ll…I’ll see what I can do to get it sooner.”

“Yeah, you do that,” he grumbles. “Motherfucker. I need a drink. Get a bottle of something.”

One of the men rounds the counter, tracks falling short at the sight of you and Chloe huddled against the counter.

“What the fuck?”

You and Chloe are wide-eyed and frozen as he sneers down at you. Still, he looks like he’s trying to be tougher than he is, compensating for size that he does not have, with an attitude that doesn’t match up with the way he sped around the counter to get the other man a drink.

Another guy comes around and you quickly recognize him as the man in charge. He frowns at Chloe, sighing, “You’re not supposed to be here still, Chloe.”

She shifts her weight, “I was just…finishing inventory…”

The bossman’s eyes move to you, laced with nothing but inconvenience. “Oh and you brought a friend. Great.” 

“Mr. Murray, we were just ab—”

He’s quick to cut her off with a hand, “Chloe. Stop talking.”

Her face falls flat and her words die off without hesitation.

“Get up.”

She’s pushing herself off the ground instantly while you’re still on the floor catching up with what the hell’s going on. As she moves out from behind the bar, you scurry to follow her. Your arm bumps against hers as you fiddle with the seams at the bottom of your outfit.

You dressed to go out with your friend on a Friday night, not to meet three mobsters in a closed bar with no witnesses. That’s to say, you’re feeling a little exposed.

You stand in the center of the bar, the three men looking various degrees of annoyed looks across their faces. Though the oldest looking of the bunch has something else in his eyes as he looks you up and down, in no rush to hide his engrossment in your bare legs.

“How old are you, honey?” Even without the blatant ogling, that’s never a good question to hear from a fifty year old man.

Your eyes avert to the floor, lips pursing. 

“Hey, don’t be rude. I asked you a question.” He nudges your chin up a bit rougher than necessary, forcing you to look him in the eyes. 

Somehow, you feel like there’s no answer here that would help you. 

The man at the bar serves as an unexpected saving grace of sorts, muttering, “We don’t have time for this.”

Your pursuer shakes his head, looking you over in a way that makes you feel very small. “I think we got plenty of time.”

“I disagree.”

All heads whip to the doorway where the Red Hood leans against the frame, checking his phone. A never invited but always welcome addition to the party. At least for you.

The man in front of you instantly steps back, putting some distance between the two of you. Hands across the room instinctively fly to holsters only to begrudgingly relax at their sides, probably figuring drawing on Red Hood isn’t in their best interest. Though your focus lies on the bell above his head that didn’t make a peep whenever he came in.

Hood shuts his phone off and puts it away with a quiet sigh before glancing up at the tension-filled room. He literally double takes when his helmet scans past you. You somehow feel more in trouble now than you did two minutes ago. 

“Hood..” the bossman says measuredly. “What are you doing here?”

He stares at you for a second longer before tearing his gaze away. “Just thought I’d check up on you, Murray. Make sure you’re not causing trouble in light of our agreement.” He makes a point of looking back at you and Chloe at that last part before looking to Murray expectantly.

He waves that off easily, “This is nothing. Just two late-shift employees.”

Hood takes a piqued breath. “You picked a bad time to lie to me,” he says flatly.

Murray shakes his head, “Look, we’re just cleaning up a mess. No harm.”

“Really?”

“This clean up benefits you too, they heard too much. The one girl—Chloe, get out. She’s fine, she’s not talking.”

Chloe wastes no time exiting hastily. Bye Chloe.

He continues, “We only need to kill one of them.” He says it like this is an ideal compromise. You’re feeling differently.

Hood huffs, pulling out a gun from his holster. “I’m thinking it’s implied that killing innocent people is a form of causing trouble. Which is in direct violation of our agreement.” He cocks the gun, pointing it at Murray’s head.

Murray steps back dramatically, throwing his hands up. “Hey, an alliance is an alliance!”

Hood wavers his head to the side, “Alliance is a strong word. Temporary tolerance maybe…”

The short man pipes up, “Okay, calm down, calm down. Nobody needs to get killed. We can cooperate.”

“That’s the spirit,” Hood quips, lowering his gun.

The older one shakes his head, “We don’t have anything on her, she’ll talk.”

The short man demurs, “We don’t know that—”

“She saw too much, we can’t have her walking around with that information,” Murray says, moving towards you. 

Hood puts his hands up like some kind of mediator, “Nobody’s killing anybody.”

Murray scoffs, “You were gonna kill me!”

Hood's hands drop as he stands in full, “And I still might!”

Boldly, Murray steps up to him.

But Hood looks down at him, easily a full head taller than him and at least twice his muscle mass. “Let's weigh out your odds here, Murray. Is that a fight you’re winning?”

The look on Murray’s face tells you it’s not and he struggles to maintain this chest to chest confrontation.

It only takes him a moment of wavering to decide to back off, though he sure as hell doesn’t look happy about it. 

Hood pushes past him, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you towards him. 

Murray splutters, watching you go. “You can’t—I-I know people.”

“I am people,” Hood grumbles, steering you towards the door.

Though you can be sure they have them, no one voices any objections aa he pulls you outside.

His stride doesn’t even falter as he marches you down the sidewalk in the direction of your apartment. Aside from the sound of the breeze wisping past your ears, it’s silent between you.

After two blocks you get the strong impression that this muted exchange of energy is just going to keep on, so you force yourself to find something to rattle off about. “That uh, that seems like something he’s gonna be mad about.”

He huffs, “Yeah, well he can get over it or die so I guess it’s a personal choice.”

You frown at his tone, “What’s your problem?”

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say as his head snaps in your direction. “Why the hell are you out here?”

His sharp attitude has you stumbling a bit. “Why are you out here? You have a concussion.”

“I don’t have a concussion,” he grumbles. “And I just saved your life so maybe complaining about it isn’t your best move right now.”

You try to stop and face him but he doesn’t let you, keeping you moving along with him. “That’s what we’re doing? Really?” 

Are these about the social skills that you had expected from him based on your first meeting? Yeah. But that first meeting was months ago. He’s proven again and again that he has half a brain and the ability to read a room so you’re really not fucking sure what the hell his problem is. He won’t acknowledge that he kissed you and all but jumped out your living room window, but he will snap at you for asking about his concussion that there’s no way he doesn’t have. Especially if he’s acting like this. 

He ignores your comment, blatantly at that. “Did they say anything about a drug shipment?”

This is what we’re talking about? Sure. Fine. At least you’re talking. 

You open your mouth briefly before closing it again, eyes narrowed. “I don’t know.”

He tries again, “What about Nocturna? Did you hear that name?”

“I…I don’t know.” You weren’t exactly taking notes behind the bar counter. 

His head drops down heavily, “Okay, I think I’m seeing a trend for how this conversation’s gonna go...”

You gawk at him, astonished that he thinks it’s you who’s handling this discussion poorly. “You cannot be serious right now.”

He sighs, slowing as you approach the steps to your building, “Just—why’d they let Chloe go?”

You blink a few times, “I mean, she has a drug problem…” You guess that might be where she’s getting them from…

He nods solemnly, “Okay.”

You huff, turning to walk up the steps, shoulders heavy. You hope he’ll come up with you and maybe, just maybe, address the elephant in the room. 

“Are you—” you turn around to face him again, met with nothing but vacant air. 

A deep, tense, breath from you before calling out, “Really?”

One month. One month. And he decides to show up tonight like it’s no time lost. But there was some fucking time lost.

Count ‘em up, that’s one period, two paychecks, three grocery trips, four laundry days, and thirteen showers. And that stupid fucking vigilante ransacked your head during every single one.

You went through the five stages of grief for this bizarre, undefinable relationship and then discovered about six more while you were at it. 

So when you walk out from the bathroom, you’re a little pissed to see him sitting there on your living room floor, helping himself to a glass of water. 

Maybe it’s his domino mask that gives his expression the illusion of neutrality. Or maybe he really has no idea how insane it is that he would occupy your apartment like this after skipping out on you for an entire lunar cycle.

He leans against your armchair, inspecting a scratch on his lower arm. You enter silently, watching him the whole time as you make your way over to the far end of the couch.

He doesn’t look up at you though, not until after a minute or two of silence. 

“You got any bandages left?” he asks, throwing a glance over his shoulder. 

You stare at him incredulously. 

After ten seconds with no response from you, he turns around fully, frowning. “What?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I—” he squints, eyes flickering across your face. “No?”

You continue to gawk at him, not trying for any words.

He stares back, eyes wide. “I don’t know what you want me to say...”

You tear your gaze from him, preferring to stare at the wall. “You know what, I think I know what your problem is.”

He gives a laugh with little life to it. “I only have one?”

You bite down on your lip, “You only have one I’m ready to kill you over.”

He sits with that for a minute. A long minute, before asking softly, “What is it?”

You shake your head, glaring at an unoccupied nail in the wall. “That you’re an idiot,” you mutter. You start to walk away before turning around again after a few steps. “Where the hell have you been?”

He blinks, “Uh, there’s just been a lot of—”

“Bullshit.”

He’s about to argue his point, but quickly decides to concede, “Yeah.” He takes a deep breath, sitting back. “I…wasn’t prepared for this conversation,” he says carefully.

You scoff with a nod, “Yeah, neither was I, but it’s happening. I m—what did you think was going to happen here? I—you kissed me, you kissed me!”

“No I—” he huffs, “I shouldn’t have done that, okay?”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

He sighs, throwing his hands up at his sides. “What do you want me to say?”

You shrug without genuinity, “Anything that could possibly rationalize that sequence of decisions. You kiss me, run away, ghost me for a fucking month, and then show up again like nothing happened.”

He shuts his eyes, shaking his head. “I know, I know, I’m sorry!”

“I’m not asking you to be sorry, I’m asking you to pick a fucking lane and stick to it!”

He falls silent at that, eyes on the floor. It’s quiet for long enough that you start to think he’ll accept the silence as his cue to leave. You’re not sure if you want him to or not.

You take a deep breath, eyes closed. “I need you to start being straight with me. Now.”

He doesn’t look up, taking his time to find his words. “I am sorry,” he tells you. “I…I’m not good at this. I’m not good with words so I shouldn’t have fucking done it.”

Honestly you weren’t expecting him to actually come up with a reason, so you’re not prepared to weigh out whether or not it’s a good one.

“I like you...a lot. And I didn’t know—I don’t know—what to do about it so I kissed you and I didn’t think it through, and…I guess I panicked.”

That’s more than enough for you to warrant looking back over at him. It doesn’t take long for your gaze to start shifting around awkwardly while you scratch at your neck. “I would’ve taken you for more of a fight over flight kinda guy.”

He nods to himself. “Jus’ depends..” he says quietly.

And then it seems neither of you have anything else to say. You’ve run out of angry words to spit and he’s run out of apologies and excuses. But neither of you feel like you’re done.

The quiet lingers on for a painful amount of time. Your annoyance dissipates into something else, something more uncomfortable, but you couldn’t find a name for it. It’s got your thoughts going faster though and your chest feeling more hollow. Maybe not hollow…maybe just softer. 

He cuts through your thoughts before you can, “Are you mad that I kissed you?”

You shake your head, “No. I’m mad about what happened after.” You’re just mad about what happened after. Should’ve said just.

He thinks about that for a moment. 

“I can be honest with you,” he tells you. The way he says it, it’s somewhere between a peace offering and an assurance to himself.

You look at him again. He reads oddly vulnerable for a man his size with his reputation. You believe him. 

He goes on, “I trust you, you know? I want you to trust me too, if you can.”

You blink a few times, processing. “I…I don’t know anything about you.”

He nods, an anxious aura radiating around him. He leaves you hanging for longer than a few moments, getting you convinced that the conversation is just going to end there.

It doesn’t though, and after a few minutes, he sits up and reaches up to his mask.

It has you sitting up too, like he just pulled out a gun. Your hands fly up instinctually, as though this is completely uncalled for, as if he’s crazy for doing it.

He pauses his movements for a moment, making eye contact with you. His eyes reaffirm his words. He trusts you and he wants you to trust him.

You allow your hands to relax onto your lap and he continues on, taking his mask off.

You’re not revealed to much more of his face than you’d already seen before, but entirely in view like this, he’s a sight. You try not to stare but there’s little reward to removing him from your sight whereas the alternative…

All together like this you can see how his features balance his face out so nicely and make for a warm countenance, if not rough.

He takes a deep breath, setting his mask to the side. “My name is J…” he says with assurance. “Todd,” he tacks on.

You don’t mean to, really, but you’re sure the frown on your face is evident as puzzle pieces start forming and connecting in your mind. 

J…Todd…J…Jay…Todd…Jason…Todd…

Your mouth hangs open, “You’re Jason Todd. You’re de—” Well a couple things are starting to add up. “How are you…how are you not—”

He waves that away, tiredly. “It's a long story. Not particularly happy, either.”

Autopsy scar. Fuck. 

“I mean, I’ll…” he hesitates, “I’ll tell you if you want me to.”

He says it, but discomfort is painted across his face. You’re quick to shake your head, “It’s okay.”

He nods, likely relieved.

You stand up from your seat, crossing the room to sit down next to him. You’d half-expected him to tense up, but his body relaxes when you lean back against the chair.

You close your eyes before asking, “Who’s Nocturna?”

“She’s just this woman that’s been causing trouble for us.”

You don’t say anything and he continues on, shaking his head. “She’s more annoying than anything.”

You open your eyes, looking over. “Yeah?”

He shrugs, “Just trying to take over the underworld, the usual stuff. Nothing you need to worry about.”

You give a laugh that’s barely more than an exhale, relaxing your body completely..

There’s the slightest lull in activity before he sets his hand down on the floor, right on top of yours. The sounds of your breathing are the only thing that fill the room for a few minutes, save for the occasional car horn.

He glances at the clock on the wall, nearing midnight. “I have to go...” He says reluctantly.

You try not to let the disappointment show through your body language. “Go where?”

He pauses before telling you,  “A cemetery.”

You nod vacantly, “Oh. Just for fun, or…?”

He gives a dry laugh, “Just meeting an associate. They’re a bit dramatic, so.”

“Yeah, I’d say.”

“I’ll come back—I’m going to come back,” he mutters against your hairline.

You don’t respond, but you both know he’s good for his promise.

He looks around your apartment for a second before seemingly getting an idea. He pushes himself up off the ground and heads for your kitchen. You watch as he rips a sticky note off the deck on your fridge and scribbles something down on it. 

He returns to you, kneeling down and pushing the square of paper into your hand. “Here,” he says, looking you in the eye. “If you need anything. Anything.”

You engulf the note in your palm, nodding sincerely. His eyes flicker across your face, like he’s thinking about something. He hesitates for a moment, turning towards you, away from you, then towards you again. He holds the back of your head tenderly before pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead.

You look at each other up close for a second with nothing short of starry eyes before he turns away and ducks out the window.

You open up your palm and look down at the paper, at the ten digits scrawled across it.

Huh.

Must be official. 

🧨 reblog or die (this is a threat) 🧨

[iceunhie]

voicelines about you: as their lover ! (part 2)

featuring: sunday, aventurine, blade (+ black swan, acheron) [ part 1: dan heng, jing yuan, gepard, kafka, jingliu. ]

notes: well. the long awaited part 2 is here! (i took absolutely wayyy too long to finish this but a lovely anon requested the penacony cast so i just waited until now haha) stay tuned for either a future aventurine fic or a sunday fic tho; reblogs are appreciated! main masterlist.

Sunday

About [Name]: Ah, you speak of my beloved. [Name] has managed to strike your interest as well? Heh, I'm joking. You aren't that type of person, no? ….But yes, my lover truly is quite stellar, if not incomparable. I doubt I'd find anyone in the universe as lovely as I do them.

About [Name]: Smitten Robin often jokes about how my eyes change whenever I see them. ‘Softens like the smitten man you are,’ she says. Well, my sister is hardly wrong about matters of the heart, and to be fair, her words are indeed correct. While I cannot be with them every second of the day, despite my only wish to do so…. I suppose this much is fine. At the very least, this bewitched version of myself shall ward any that dare take [Name] away from me.

About [Name]: Preparation. …My mansion has everything [Name] shall ever desire. As for I, what I only desire is them alone, and for them to be right by my side. When the time is right, what's mine shall also be theirs, and none shall ever separate the two of us again. Should anyone attempt it, well, there's a reason my mansion is built the way it is.

Aventurine

About [Name]: [Name], [Name], [Name].... I see that you too have an eye for priceless treasures. Unfortunately for you, this particular one is already mine to behold. Mm, I wonder how my lover must be faring right now…. Missing them is truly, horribly debilitating.

About [Name]: Unworthy Whenever I think of [Name] being with me, of all people… Sometimes, the thought is unbearable. To think they would care for someone like me…. How truly lucky I am. Or maybe it's the other way around? Hehe, take a guess.

About Topaz: Contradictory Topaz and [Name] get along fairly well, despite her rather obvious dislike for me. Nonetheless, I suppose I can understand why. My lover is irresistibly charming~ Now, does this make me jealous, I wonder…. How about we bet on that?

Blade

About [Name]: Though this sword may be battered and broken, if you harbor any intention of harm towards them, I will not hesitate to brandish this blade.

About [Name]: Mara Infliction When afflicted with mara, the senses are ravaged ceaselessly, muddying the mind—being unable to distinguish ally from foe. This is my path. And yet their face is clear, pure amidst the carnage, alleviating the haze for but a moment. My mind may be overridden with hatred, but I will never forget that feeling of salvation.

(BONUS: Kafka’s Voiceline about [Name] !) About [Name]: Truly A Shame Bladie’s little darling, hm? Definitely a wonder, that one, taming him so easily. Those two are definitely an interesting case, that's for sure. Scary, marastruck Blade and them…. truly a shame. Even I know just how the ending of that particular script will end.

Acheron

About [Name]: …They are my lover, yes. Hm? Tell you more about them? Heh, I think you'd have better luck asking [Name] instead of me. I probably wouldn't even know where to begin.

About [Name]: Keeping Memories Despite the fact of my memories being in less than the best condition, [Name] always tells me about all the exciting things they've come across, whether it be delicious food from various planets, or even the most mundane things like the sound of the rushing water, the sight of fireflies in the night. They truly make everything worth remembering.

(BONUS: Black Swan’s Voiceline about [Name] !) About [Name]: Eye Of The Storm Ah, you speak of that Galaxy Ranger's companion…. The abyss that is her consciousness seems to only become calm in the face of them, akin to the eye of the storm. A shining light in the middle of nothingness—that is something that even she cannot let go of. No wonder Miss Acheron is quite taken with them.

Black Swan

About [Name]: The memories of Memokeepers are sorted into various categories by their importance. As my lover, my memories of them hold the greatest value of all. Such memories…. even if the Remembrance wishes for me to hand them over, I doubt I will ever allow it.

About [Name]: Dancing My proficiency in the act of dancing is all thanks to my continued practice with [Name] on our shared time together. Fufu, ‘dates,’ if you will. Every moment I spend in their arms, swaying to the beat of the music at every turn… those are the memories I wish to forever retain.

About Acheron: Indebted One time, Miss Acheron managed to get lost in the middle of the Reverie Hotel’s halls... as usual. [Name] came across her then, and proceeded to have a lovely chat with her. I owe her a debt for keeping my lover company as I was preoccupied with some matters the Garden of Recollection entrusted to me to relay to the family. Next time, perhaps I should invite her over for some dinner with [Name]....

end notes thanks for sticking around the part 2 (for the ogs who read pt 1) and do look forward to more HSR content in the future! also did i say i love aventurine

© 𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐈𝐄 : do not repost, copy, or plagiarize my work.

[yanderenightmare]

does bakugos protectiveness mean he won’t get intimate with reader? like does he see them more as like …. a fragile pet/person to look after?

Bakugou Katsuki

♡ TW: nsfw, noncon, immobilization, yandere, captive reader, quirkless reader, grief, discrimination, drawn comparisons between quirklessness and disabilities, implied bakudeku, drugging, needles, hypochondriasis adjacet, also angst

♡ manga spoilers in a way, but also not really. anyway, read at your own discretion.

♡ part one

♡ fem reader

Despite all his lingering stares, the way he washes you in the bath and holds you at night, and the bulge you feel press against your ass—he hadn’t taken it further, and you’d started thinking he never would. His worries for your health might be so restricting he believes an act such as sex would be too exhausting and harmful for you. Sometimes, on his more rigid days, he doesn’t even allow you to walk on your own. So you wouldn’t put it beyond him.

But then, one night four months in, it comes. Creeping in slowly. You’re left wondering about it for a moment, lying there in anticipation as his large hands roam more than usual—over the plush of your thighs, up the small of your waist. The bed shifts as he slots himself closer—you think you might feel his heart thunk at your back. His breath comes with wet heat against your ear, his words even more so, drenched in arousal, yet oddly restrained, “Can I… touch you?”

He's so hesitant about it. Something in his voice, something so careful, makes you feel you can take it as an actual question and not one of his usual orders in disguise. Even so, you hesitate in return. But after a minute of contemplation, you decide to take advantage of the offered choice. Whispering back a firm and trying “No.”

You await his reaction warily—the possibility of him ignoring you is still very much plausible despite his caution.

But then… his touches recede to their designated places—to their normal hold, to the one of a simple dragon guarding treasure and nothing more. He releases a pent-up breath, then takes another deep one before settling.

“Okay.”

It seems somewhat anticlimactic. You’re not entirely sure you believe it. But as you wait for him to go against his own word, he doesn’t do anything but hold you like any other night, and then, a while later, you hear him snore.

You suppose it was expected. If your theory is correct and he doesn’t want to put you through the strain, it would only make sense he definitely wouldn’t do it if you were going to fight back on top of it. And as he doesn’t use the sedatives without deeming it utterly necessary, you can’t see him regard his horniness as a need that would justify its means.

Which can only then mean he wouldn’t touch you like that without consent. Perhaps the only saving grace in it all.

Or at least that was what you thought…

You’re both in the tub. You’d since allowed his thorough bath rituals without fighting back. Those times you’d bothered in the beginning, he’d used a sedative each time and left you as limp as a puppet. And even though you didn’t enjoy having any part of it, going through with it consciously was better than the alternative. And so you sit there, letting him lather and rub—trying to ignore the fact that his callused hands are twice your size and that he’s entirely naked, paired with the occasional feeling of his cock bumping into your lower back.

“There’s a lot’a health benefits to it…”

There he goes again. Health this, health that—constantly. He’ll most likely never let up on convincing you, no matter how much you declare you don’t need any of this inane insanity he calls protection.

“Sex, I mean…”

Your ears draw back at that. What… what did he just say? Your skin tightens around you, crawling with shivers even in the hot water. Health benefits… Sex…

You don’t like the sound of that. You thought he’d decided the means outweighed the need—his need, which is, in fact, not a need at all but a selfish desire. Similar to your desire to drink coffee or eat cake—both things you’re no longer allowed to do since it’s not compatible with your health regimen. Sex, as was decided, is also not compatible with your health regimen.

“It improves the immune system, lowers the risk of heart disease, decreases depression, makes you sleep better…” he mutters behind you. “Also… it’ll help you settle.”

“What are you talking abou—” Your outcry is cut off by the needle deep in your arm. The liquid enters you quickly and taints your bloodstream shortly thereafter. You watch him pull it out and place it gently on the neatly folded stack of towels beside the tub. Your breath is forcibly subdued before it has the chance to flare with the panic rioting your chest. The only protest leaving is a wasted “No…”

“I’m sorry…” he apologizes, wrapping his thick arms around your softened body before it could collapse forward, pulling you close while pressing his forehead between your slumped shoulder blades. “But this is for your own good.”

You don’t know whether he’s trying to convince you or himself. When he subjects you to all his other methods, he does so with impenetrable justification—as though religiously, sanctioned, with a rigid belief of what he’s doing. But now he seems more torn—as if he’s sullying himself with dubious intent, not entirely able to hide from his own ulterior motives.

He carries your limp body out of the bath in a fluffy towel. Your eyes are half-mast and blurry at times, but still, you can see it, written plainly on his face—guilt. No, not of the tiny needle hole he’d made in your arm—that shame is more fleeting, more of a grit-teethed all’s fair in love and war. This look on his face was different from that—weighted with a burden he still isn’t sure if’s worth it.

He lays you down softly on the bed, then takes a step back, swallowing thickly.

His shoulders look braced from what you can tell when looking down at where he stands at the foot end—overall uncomfortable in his stance, looking as though he doesn’t want to be there, as though he shouldn’t be there. Maybe he’s changed his mind? Maybe the guilt has fostered regret? Maybe he won’t go through with it after all?

The bed sinks to accommodate his weight. You feel it swallow you from beneath as if you’re drowning in the sheets. You feel heavy enough for it to be true—heavy like lead, unmovable. And yet, Bakugou moves you all too easily. Parting your thighs as if they didn’t have any gravity to them whatsoever, placing them atop his own as he shuffles in close.

You want to scream, but you can only cry silently. You feel so betrayed—that’s what gets you most. Familiarity in what you’d always known about how to live had been stripped away, leaving you to Bakugou’s rules and regulations—which weren’t much to find comfort in. Still, you had felt you could in the least trust in them, in his mania, in this unshakable need of his to keep you safe and healthy. But now he was breaking that trust.

“You aren’t comfortable with me yet. That’s the issue,” he says—insists on it. And it’s very clear now—he doesn’t even have himself assured. You can see it on his face, behind his eyes, racking his brain, grasping at straws.

Your skin ignites with goosebumps as he trails up both your thighs—his red stare rimmed with unease, brows cinched, looking at the place between you. His mouth hangs slightly open—you hear the shallow breaths seeping in and out, thicker and thicker with heat.

“We need this.”

That’s different. We have never been a part of it before. It’s always been you first and foremost and then him as an afterthought. Your chest churns again with the same sensation of back-stabbing—this isn’t right—he’s breaking all the rules! He said he wouldn’t—he promised he wouldn’t!

You squeeze your eyes shut with all the might the drug allows you when you feel his gritty finger filter through your slit. His warmth tells you he’s leaning down close, then the sensation of his mouth wrapping your nipple, soaking it in spit, even hotter than the steaming tub from earlier.

“I want to make you feel good—I need you to be happy,” he moans around the nub, sucking it into a pretty pebble before doing the same with the other—leaving them both glossy. “To smile. And laugh. You aren’t healthy if you don’t want to live.”

You can feel the bed shake beneath you, and you can tell from the tremor in his voice it’s from jerking himself—teasing your entrance with the other hand. You wince when his fingers enter you. The bathwater makes it easier—one digit first, testing you out, then quickly followed by the sting of another. It’s a stretch—after all, you haven’t done it in the many months since arriving here, and even before then, you’d been busy with work. You don’t remember how long it’s been, but it’s far long enough to make it feel both a little painful but also way overdue.

It's embarrassing how quickly you come undone. Two fingers barely doing anything but fill you out, and you’re already throttling them and cumming—wetting them with slickness of your own.

He pulls them out shortly. You don’t want to open your eyes, but the stillness that befalls the bed tells you everything of how he’s inspecting them with that god-awful doctoral leer in his eyes.

You think you hear the sounds of suction a second later—yes, definitely slurping.

You want to crawl in on yourself and die.

The hand returns, settling flatly upon your pelvis—a fat thumb nuzzling your pearled clit. And then something grazes the puffy lips below it—softly and slowly, ever-gently. Something hard. Something big. Something bulbous.

“This will hurt a little. But then you’ll feel good,” he cares to explain as if you’ve never done this before. It’s awful how soft and sweet he makes his tone, masking the brute—but the room is too quiet to hide behind, and you hear it anyway. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”

Liar.

Liar, liar, liar liar liar!

He nudges against your entrance to find purchase, a request soon granted—though it requires much more than what his digits did. A cry cracks from your chest and his movements halt. But that’s somehow worse—the slow burn is all but torture—you wish he’d rather do it quickly, in one full motion, like ripping off the band-aid. But no, he eases in, and the tear feels everlasting until it nudges right and tight against your womb.

“Fuck.” His whole body labors with his breaths, trying hard to restrain himself—and you suppose that’s something to be thankful for. “Fuck, that’s so nice…”

He, as well, hasn’t had a fuck in ages. Since before he met you.

He’d been too much of a wreck after the funeral when the realization had finally settled. Unfit in every sense of the word. Put on mandatory sick leave.

He had a month of binging. Too many hookups in poor taste and even shittier circumstances—sloshed at exclusive clubs, taking home the first person he could play pretend with. It was easiest with his fans—they remind him of him—how they fawn over him so wholeheartedly, cute nerds all too eager to let him use them.

Kirishima had beaten him half to death at some point, fed up with his bullshit—told him he was tainting his memory. His words hit harder than his fists. Set him straight. He’d sobered up, and then he’d gone back to work as the new number-one hero.

He had touched neither bottle nor another human being since. It had been all business.

And then he met you.

He hunkers down—his lips and nose brush along your neck in small kisses. “I love you,” he confesses under his breath, circling your clit under his thumb while his other hand dwarfs your hip tenderly. It’s the first time he says it out loud like that. It doesn’t mean much to you, or no, it means you want to twist away—but to him, it’s as if he’d said so under the climax of a romance, or maybe an even more dire intimacy than that, like the last breath he’d take before death, coated head to toe in blood, knowing he’d never be able to see you again.

All previous reservations are thrown as he pulls back and starts rocking forth slowly.

“Ah fuck—” he hisses. “I love you.”

The patterns drawn on your clit get messier—so do his kisses—sloppy and getting needier. The hand on your hips has to grip the mattress instead, supporting him while his breaths turn gruffer.

“I love you,” he keeps repeating, and you keep your eyes closed.

The bed rocks softly beneath you like you’re lying on a saucer swing—making you a little nauseous, and yet you feel it coming anew—the sweet tingling from below, simmering beneath Bakugou’s thumb.

Then his lulling picks up, veering on thrusting—just hard enough to make your skin softly clap upon meeting. It’s just enough friction to make you jerk again, seizing up and shivering on his cock. It jitters shortly, stutters, and then stills—and you feel it fill you—swarm you—hot and wet and spreading.

His chest rests on you—heavy and plump with brawn coated in sweat mixed with bathwater. It’s suffocating, yet you breathe fine, albeit in shambles, recovering from the toll.

“I love you,” he says a final time, breathless.

And you don’t know… something about the entire thing feels as though he’s talking to someone else.

♡ more thoughts on this ♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[quin-ns]

Knuckle Velvet (Aegon II Targaryen x Reader)

Word count: 1.9K

Summary: Aegon is desperate for the love of the sister he truly wants, even if he has to take it

Tags: (18+), cw: non-con, cw: sibling incest, targaryen!reader, dark themes, choking, fingering, unprotected sex (obvi, it’s hotd times), hair pulling kinda, forced orgasm, aegon is lowkey pathetic but also threatening

A/N: first aegon fic. I’d been wanting to write for him but with the new season and him getting hotter (maybe he looks the same and I just got more into him idk) I had to write him

HotD masterlist + main masterlist

Aegon’s head weighed heavy on your lap, but even as your legs began to grow numb, you let him be. Your fingers lightly carded through his silver hair in the way you knew he wanted.

“I like it when you take care of me,” your brother had told you many times. It had to be the truth, given how often he’d seek you out just to curl up next to you.

Sometimes he’d sit like this, his head in your lap like some kind of dog, wanting his hair stroked and your words of assurance. He could fall asleep like this, or let tears slip down his cheeks. Other times he’d crawl on top of you and take the love he was desperate for. He could kiss away your silent tears, or muffle your cries with his lips.

Either way, he kept returning to you, begging for your attention and affection.

It might’ve been amusing, how weak he could be to you, if he wasn’t so terrifying at the same time.

Tonight, as Aegon muttered about his most recent council meeting, you thought perhaps you’d be spared his touch tonight.

“I should have been wed to you,” he muttered, voice holding onto a bitterness he had yet to let go. “I can stand your company and I already spend more time in your bed. I’ve suffered enough cruelty in my life, being allowed to marry who I please should’ve been a mercy I was granted. It makes no difference to our line.”

You had had this conversation many times to the point you were beyond tired of speaking about it. Helaena was the eldest sister, it had made sense to your mother and grandsire to pair the two together. They couldn’t have known the resentment that would build in the king.

Helaena was the correct choice for queen. You would not have the stomach for it. Helaena had already given birth to two of his children. Aegon was occasionally amused by them, but it was your sister that doted on them. She was a good mother. You didn’t think you could bring yourself to be. You were grateful to the maesters who would bring you tea and turn a blind eye to Aegon’s doings. The rumors that would circulate him would not ruin his future the way they would you. You’d yet to marry and if word got out you lacked virtue, you may never. You didn’t want Aegon to get the satisfaction.

You suspected Aegon no longer laid with his wife, and she was fortunate for that. If he loved you as much as he claimed and still had to kiss bruises in the morning, you didn’t dare to imagine what he could’ve done to her. She had given him a son and a daughter, and perhaps that was enough for him.

Aegon sat up and you flinched, even as he looked at you with tears in his eyes. You wondered if he recognized how insulting it was to hear him whine about his responsibilities, to listen to him say he loved you and list off the things he wanted to give you, only for him to not lift a finger for either. Duties went ignored. His love remained violent. You were tired. So very, very tired.

A hand found your face, fingers pressing into the skin of your cheek. Aegon’s thumb dragged down your lips, pulling the bottom one apart from the top. His gaze pierced yours as he let your lip go in favor of letting his thumb tilt up your chin when you tried to look away.

“Do you love me?” Aegon pleaded.

He stared at your mouth, waiting for you to speak. Your lips remained pressed together. Tears spilled further down his pale cheeks. Aegon’s face twisted as something other than just begging shined through his eyes.

Your lack of response rewarded you with a hand around the throat. Then again, you could’ve said exactly what he desired and received the same. He enjoyed his power over you as you’d never been one to fight back. At least this way you could remain somewhat defiant.

Aegon kissed you like he was trying to bruise your lips. His kiss was all teeth and tongue, forcefully claiming you as he left his mark. Aegon took what he wanted and cared nothing for charm or patience.

Hands fell to your shoulders, gliding over them for only a second before they pressed. Your back hit the mattress with a gasp. Aegon’s teeth found your neck as he crawled on top of you. The weight was already crushing. With each button on your gown he undid, the faster your heart raced.

“You are beautiful, sister,” he said, sounding wrecked already as he admired your naked body. You believed he meant it, but it didn’t spare you. “If only you weren’t being so stubborn with your words.”

Aegon’s hand on your neck was no more welcome than the first time he’d gripped it, but at least you’d grown better at controlling your breathing.

He made himself comfortable between your legs. The hand on your neck remained firm, while the other disappeared inside you.

You hated how he knew to do this. To prepare you for him. Something you were certain he’d learned at a pleasure house. That was the last thing you wanted to feel. At least if it hurt you could remind yourself you did not want this. You did not want Aegon to touch you or kiss you or fuck you. But when a warmth began to form inside you and slick coated his skilled fingers, your mind would always begin to blur and doubt crept in, while a smirk would appear on his lips. It happened every time without fail and this was no exception.

“You’ll have to speak to me sometime,” Aegon goaded, fingers stroking your walls. He leaned down over you, his lips pressing to your ear as he whispered, “Perhaps it’ll be when you scream my name.”

When, not if. Arrogance was a most undesirable feature of your eldest brother.

You tried to shut your thighs when Aegon withdrew his hand, but a harsh slap to your skin reminded you of your place. You grit your teeth and close your eyes as the head of his cock pressed into you. You’d lost count of how many times he’d done this, but it took your breath every time when he slammed into the hilt.

“Look at me,” he grunted. You could feel air hit your face, knowing his face was above you.

You cracked your eyes open when he squeezed your neck. His eyes would’ve been beautiful if they didn’t have such a lifeless quality to them.

Your throat bobbed against his hand as you swallowed, but no words left you. The sole purpose was to frustrate him. Tomorrow you’d speak to him as usual, but tonight, like you did some nights, you wanted to make your resistance known, even if his cock was buried in you.

He kissed you when he began to move. The hand on your throat remained as his lips attached to yours. His other hand groped at you, running over your hips, your waist, your breasts—anything he could touch. He thrust into you with power, forcing your legs apart. All you could do was lie there and take it.

Aegon breathed heavily against your mouth as your body welcomed him. Your mind had no say in the matter. Your warm, wet walls clung to his cock as he fucked you hard. Your legs wrapped around him without your say and that really drove him mad with lust.

His hand finally left your neck as both rose to run through your hair. Aegon’s hands were rough as he held your face in place by your scalp. Your winces of pain went ignored as usual. The sound of skin against skin echoed through the room and your face grew even more heated at the sound of your own slickness that joined. He parted from your lips to watch your face.

“I can see your pleasure, sister. Your body does not lie. Your face does not lie.”

You wanted to turn your head but you could not. You gripped the sheets as he pressed into you harder with each motion, letting you feel the thick length of him inside you even longer. Your legs began to shake as heat throbbed in your belly.

“Ae—” you cut yourself off, but it was too late.

You’d begun to give him the satisfaction of winning but had snatched it away. Aegon wouldn’t have that. He couldn’t.

His eyes looked wild as Aegon fisted your hair. “Say it,” he hissed. “Say anything.”

One would have mistaken his tone for anger, or something else, but you knew what it truly was. The desperation in his voice might’ve conjured pity if he wasn’t busy splitting you open on his cock. His thrusts picked up again and you felt your body beginning to tighten around him.

Your back arched off the bed as his harsh movements forced your legs further apart to make room for him. Aegon was growing frantic, chasing his desires with fervor.

One hand stayed in your hair while the other snaked between your bodies. A moan tore through you when the palm of his hand pressed to the top of your cunt. Another trick you were certain had been taught to him to find the most pleasure. Your hips bucked down against him, the need from your body for the pressure causing it to act on its own.

It was all so overwhelming, the word slipped from your lips before you could think to stop.

“Aegon!” you cried out. You didn’t even know what for. Surely for him to stop, but a blinding pleasure began to rattle you. Your legs locked around him, holding him deep inside you as your body quivered and clenched around him. You could barely breathe as the feeling of release wracked your entire being in a sudden instant.

Aegon cursed above you, his breaths coming out harsh. He gave quick, sharp thrusts, barely able to move with the grip of your legs. You felt his cock throb of you before he spilled inside of you with a deep moan. He shoved his hips forward, encasing himself in your body as he forced you to ride out your pleasure alongside him.

Finally, when your vision began to clear, you forced your legs to drop. You laid limp beneath him as Aegon collapsed on top of you. You shivered as his face pressed to your neck. You clenched your teeth as he nipped at your bruised neck. You even felt a tear stream down your cheek.

“You love me,” Aegon stated. It was not a question this time. He lifted his head, silver hair sticking to his forehead as his eyes searched yours. “You can deny it, or refuse to speak it, but you do.”

Whether he believed that or not, you couldn’t be certain. He spoke with conviction, but as you left him without a response, you noticed the familiar glint of sadness in his eyes as he fought back tears of his own.

With a quiver to his voice he added, “And I love you.”

As much as your body ached and your neck throbbed, deep down, you knew with certainty that he believed he did.

[darkstaria]

Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul Animal AU.

Chapter 1:

----

Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5.

Dark pupils watched from the ceiling, their gaze affixed upon you. You sighed, deciding to ignore its presence.

An aggravated chitter interrupted you. Pausing, you watched as a little green bird jumped out of the bat’s shadow. It paced towards you, making a small leap to land on your outstretched finger. You smiled, extending your hand to pet the top of its head. The bird took a moment to consider the moment, head tilting with its beak outstretched as if it intended to bite you. It seemed to decide on sparing your finger, allowing you to give the bird some pets on the head.

However, it was time to resume your work. You turned back to your computer, a dismissal. The bird didn't like that. A quick flash, and the bird tittered about on your keyboard, messing up your setup.

“Robin!” You snap, reaching out as if to push the bird away.

You sighed. You disliked calling the bird Robin. It was the correct species, despite the bird being green, so it made sense to use the name. But.. you hated the connection it created between your soul bonded animals and the vigilantes of the city. Unfortunately, the bird didn't answer to any other name. You've tried.

The other robins were so much more agreeable than this newer one. Well, not that you could even call those three robin anymore. The newer robin was very possessive of the name, and you'd rather not have to search your room for more stray feathers that flew off in their next fight. Your soul animals were such a pain.

The flutter of wings distracts you from your musings. You look up, finding the very bat you had been so cautiously avoiding earlier descend onto your desk. The bat chirped a little, with the robin occasionally replying back with chirps of its own. They were having their own conversation.

You decided you were owed a break already, so you gave up on your dreams of getting work done in lieu of watching the ongoing conversation. It was rare for soul animals to talk. They didn't need to. Due to the nature of a soul bond, soul animals act on the innermost feelings of the soul they represent. The bond connects souls, so soul animals, which are a manifestation of the bond, are already intune with their soulmates.

The only instance in which soul animals did tend to talk, was if the soulmates themselves were talking.

Robin chittured with a snap, the bat in return giving a controlled chirr.

Oooh. You thought to yourself. This sounds like an argument. You wondered what it was about. Maybe Robin pecked one too many victims, or caused a mess again.

Ah. You were thinking of your bonded as just animals again. To be fair, it was fairly easy. The only things you knew of your soulmates were because of how the animals acted. Anything else, and you were in the dark. That's how you wanted to think, anyway.

Maybe while they were distracted… You scoot back a little in your chair, until you figure you’re out of their line of sight. You make for the door, tipping out of your seat as quietly as you can. You're almost out the door when a weight settles itself on your head.

You sigh.

“Robin. Get off me, please.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the presence doesn't budge. Obliging, you reach up to your head, feeling the bird’s little feet jump onto your hand. Bringing Robin to eye level, you stare at it, unimpressed.

A nearby bat of wings draws you out of your faceoff. Guess sneaking out on your own was too much to ask for, as always.

“Ughhh.” You whine. Your soulmates were going to push you into complete isolation at this rate.

“Fine. You two already know the drill.”

You point at the Bat. “You can never follow me, I mean it. A bat is way too ominous of a soul animal to be flying around. It's just asking for trouble.”

The Bat remains silent, watching. Always, watching. You really hated it sometimes.

In all honesty, a robin wasn't too great of a soul animal to have with you in Gotham either. But your robins came in odd colours, so people didn't always clock that the bird was actually a robin. Sometimes you said that your soul animal was a greenfinch or a swallow. It tended to work, as long as no one looked twice.

A bat was much harder to hide.

“So..”. You give up, gesturing to your bag. “Just get in already, I'll make the trip quick.” You always had to make any outings short with this particular robin. If you spent too long with someone it got snippy. Very, snippy.

The other three robins tended to be a bit more accommodating. Well, not by much.

Robin glides into your bag, a movement of precision and grace. Not for the first time, you wonder what your bonded was like in person.

Deciding to dismiss the thought, you unlatch your door, heading out.

Just another day, with your soulmates.

~ ~ ~ ~

Your parents told you about your birth. You were born to a bat watching your window. It wasn't such a red flag, at first. The maternity ward was flush with newborn babes, so your parents figured that the bat was bound to another child. It was what they had hoped for, anyway.

Plenty of children weren't born with soulbonds. It wasn't a concern. They could be the elder of a bond. Or, they could have a delayed bond. They weren't concerned.

But… then it followed you home. Your parents settled you down, snug in your crib. When they next came to check up upon you, it was there. Perched upon the crib, watching you. When they next blinked, it was gone.

The very next day, your parents awoke to the Bat watching you again. But this time, a smaller bird was snuggled to your sleeping face. It clung to you all day, refusing to disappear when they appeared like the Bat did. It was… very mouthy.

They had assumed this to be a good development, everyone knew The Night worked alone. They were happy.

They were happy, even when another robin appeared the subsequent day. A scruffy one, snappy. Its feathers were still growing out. Young.

Perhaps they should have expected then, that the dawn the next new day would bring another little bird to your crib. The youngest one, a nestling still developing pin feathers. Despite its age, it held a keen gaze at them.

There weren't any more animals that appeared after that. So they hid any evidence of the Bat, and instead allowed you to grow up freely with your three birds.

The Bat was evidently the oldest in your soulbond. It was protective, almost parental, in its movements. It had a sixth sense for when you were in any danger, always emerging from the shadows with perfect timing. If a bat wasn't such a symbolic image in Gotham, you'd probably be more appreciative of its efforts.

The eldest bird was silly, performing aerial tricks and jumps that always brightened your day. It was keen, focusing on you whenever you felt down. It had the uncanny ability to appear whenever you were under the weather. When you said the word robin, it snapped to attention.

You decided to call it Robin.

The second bird was protective. It wasn't as loud as the eldest, but there was a spark of kindness in its gaze. Originally the bird was a lot rougher, but it started to calm down a few years in. Became stable. It always seemed to find you when you got stuck on homework, or landed on your shoulder whenever you flipped through a book.

The third bird was small. You assumed it was only a year or two older than you, due to how the bird’s feathers grew in. It wasn't as affectionate as the other two. Solitary, it often lingered in the shade. It watched you. It watched your other soul animals too, when they appeared. It seemed a little tired. It took you a bit, but eventually you realised it was lonely. After that, you always had a comforting word.

That is… until the Batman gained a partner. A boy decked out in green and yellow, the same feathers on your eldest bird. The vigilante called itself Robin.

As the duo gained notoriety, you were hidden more and more. There was danger in soulbonds, and nothing was more dangerous than vigilantes.

Robin became Nightwing. Your eldest bird grew in blue feathers. The bird stopped responding to its name. A new boy became Robin. You spotted green and yellow feathers growing in on your second bird. It started answering to Robin.

You knew who your soulmates were. After that, it was no secret. Not to you, not to your parents.

Your parents weren't happy anymore. But you were safe. They could be content with that. They considered reaching out. The evidence was obvious, they knew it, and you knew it. Maybe you could be even safer, if the Batman knew where you were.

And then you watched your Robin die.

The little bird had been stuck to you recently, seeming to be in an argument with the Bat. When in conflict, soul animals gravitated to those they weren't in disparity with, and this was nothing unfamiliar to you.

You had been stroking the little bird, as it rested on your lap. But then it jumped. It started shaking. It started crying. Bleeding.

You panicked. You tried to comfort it, to whisper caring words, to give a reassuring touch. You were young, you didn't know what to do. There was nothing you could do.

When a soulmate dies, the soul animal dies too.

The little Robin died, crying in your lap.

You had never looked at vigilantes the same way again.

There was no point in denial, not after that. Your bat became the Bat, the eldest robin named Wing. A few days later, your youngest soul animal developed new feathers. Green… and red. You didn't have a name for the bird, but you suspected you would soon.

You took a week off school.

~ ~ ~ ~

“Please be quiet, this time.” You muttered down to the green bird resting in your bag. It started at you with a condescending gaze. Ugh. Younger soulmates.

You'd sigh, but you've been doing that far too much lately as is.

Time to get this over with.

You enter the supermarket, one of your very few weekly outings. You start perusing the shelves, picking out what was in your list. As you're walking though, you hear a frustrated bark. You peak out from the shelves, spotting a lone woman tugging a leashed dog along.

Ah. You knew what this was. Everyone did. The other shoppers in the store paused too, staring at what was going on.

It was a rejected bond. When feelings between single soulbonded individuals become too bitter, the soul animal dissipates. Well, it was supposed to, and then reappear when feelings improve. But if the animal was constrained in some manner, then the animal can't disappear and is forced to remain in a physical form.

Judging from the leash on the dog’s neck, this was that same scenario. It was rather bold of the woman to bring the soul animal out in public if it was rejecting her like this. Almost brave.

Gothamites rarely helped each other, but things became a little sensitive with soul animals. You wouldn't be too surprised if there wasn't at least one attempt to free the dog today. It certainly caught attention. It could even catch.. vigilante attention.

You frowned. It was a shame to cut one of your few outings short. Sometimes there was no alternative though. You certainly wouldn't be sticking around.

You jumped at the sound of a shriek, eyes darting down to your bag where Robin rested. Robin glared venomously at your shoulder, and you glanced at it.

Your shoulder where… Ah. That would do it. Your shoulder where Red rested. Your third robin. You felt like crying. Why, why this pair?

You didn't even feel the bird as it appeared. Was that a testament to Red's stealth or your lacking observational skills?

Robin glared daggers at Red, practically hissing. You didn't even know birds could hiss. Red paid him no mind, instead looking very settled on your shoulder. The bird even snuggled your face a little. What a smug guy.

Another bark caught your attention. You glanced forward, remembering the scene. Your soul animal’s squabbling would draw too much attention. If any of the vigilantes were watching, you'd be in trouble. One robin soul animal was potentially excusable. But two? That would get you caught.

You tried to shush the two, a small signal for them to knock it off. Naturally, because it was these two, they ignored you. You groaned. This was far too public.

You grabbed Red, snatching him off your shoulder as gently as you could. Placing him gently into your shoulder bag, you tried your best to pretend the resulting screech from Robin wasn’t noticeable. The flap of your bag was closed, so no one could spot them… They could certainly hear if they came close enough though.

Time to leave. You paid for what you picked up and dashed out. The sight of rejected soulmates was generally considered disturbing, so anyone watching could just attribute your rush to that.

Were you paranoid?

Mayhaps a little.

You've justified it by the fact that you're probably soulmates with Batman and 4 robins, so paranoia is practically a requirement for your soul.

____

Hello ^ ^ welcome to my soulmate au! I do hope you enjoyed.

If you have any questions about the au, please feel free to reach out :D

[moonstruckme]

hello i’m not sure if you are taking requests but i have binged all of your emt marauders and absolutely loved them. i was wondering if you could do one where the boys get a call in for an emergency and turns out the reader called for it and by the time they get there they find the reader unconscious.you can chose the reason for why reader is passed out. also have an amazing day and yeah <3

Thank you for requesting lovely!! Slight deviation because reader doesn’t call them herself

cw: fainting, hospital mention

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You wake to a firm tapping on your face and the din of too many voices. 

“Y/n?” The tapping persists. You try to unstick your lashes. “There you go, sweetheart, open your eyes for us.” 

You try harder. 

“Good girl. I’m just going to shine this light in your eyes, keep them open…” 

“Sirius,” you say. Or try to say. Your mouth is a desert, and your lips move without much sound coming out. 

Sirius seems to hear you anyway. His businesslike tone softens into something more tender. “Hi, baby.” When he clicks off the light, you can see that his eyebrows are set close together, hooking upwards. “How are you feeling?” 

“M’okay.” 

A little grin. “Try again, sweetness.” 

You blink. It feels like it takes ages. “My head hurts.” 

“What kind of hurt, angel?” Another familiar voice, and you look up to see James crouched above your head. He gives you a quick smile, too handsome for your fragile heart to keep up with, before he tilts your head back the way it was and starts feeling about your scalp with gloved hands. “Is it like a headache, or do you think you might’ve hurt yourself?” 

“Um.” Your head swims. “Like a headache.” 

“Okay, thanks. Wanna roll onto your back for us?” 

“What’re you doing here?” 

James’ hands slip from beneath your head. “You fainted,” he says. A gentle touch on your shoulder, pressing downward. “Roll over, okay?” 

It takes more effort than it should. You feel like you’re moving through a thick sludge, your head pounding and a hint of nausea at the back of your throat. 

“Some space, please. We’ve got it from here.” Remus comes into your field of vision, looking vaguely irritated. Some of it melts away when he meets your eyes. 

“Hi,” he says softly, crouching beside you. He takes your hand and gives it a squeeze. Looks at Sirius. “Any signs of a concussion?” 

“No,” he says. “Her pupils look fine, and there doesn’t seem to be a contusion on her head. Yeah, Jamie?” 

“Yeah,” James agrees. He puts something cold underneath your neck. “I think falling onto the grass probably helped.” 

Remus nods, stroking the side of your thumb absentmindedly. “The woman I just spoke to thought the same, said the way she fell sideways had to have kept her from hitting her head.” He sounds wry. “She had a lot of opinions, actually. You had quite the group of concerned spectators looking out for you, dove.” 

Remus is giving you a small smile, but his words finally register the sheer amount of people standing near you. They’re spread in a loose circle around you, random pedestrians who just happened to be walking by when you apparently crumpled like a tin can off the edge of the sidewalk and have since stuck around to watch the show. Your head is still too fuzzy to muster up any response that feels correct, but you know you don’t like it.

James picks up on your unease first. “Don’t worry about them, sweetheart, just focus here, yeah?” He gives Sirius a look, and your scariest boyfriend gets up, going towards the nearest onlookers. James takes his place at your side. “I need to put these ice packs under your arms, so I’m going to reach up your shirt, okay?” 

“You do that all the time,” you mumble. Remus snorts. 

“True,” James admits, chuckling as he slides the ice packs up one side of your shirt, then the other, ��but I’m fairly sure I’m supposed to maintain some degree of professionalism while I’m on the job.” 

Your bones seem to melt where the ice packs cool your skin, which doesn’t make any sense because you’re fairly sure you’re already as melted as a girl can get. You feel much more at ease with your boyfriends here to handle things, and you’ve been tired for so long it feels like forever now. You close your eyes. 

And then Remus sprays you with water like a misbehaving cat. 

It’s surprising, but nice. James laughs again at your expression when your eyes open, and Remus too is smiling to himself as he sprays several points on your body with the fine mist. 

“You’re right,” Sirius says to Remus, returning, “that one woman was fucking pushy.” 

“Purple glasses?” Remus asks. 

“That’s the one.” 

He hums complacently. 

Your eyes have slipped closed again. Sirius thumbs at your cheek, prompting them open. 

“You ready to get out of here, pretty girl?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh. Talking is easier now. “Where are we going?” 

Sirius’ grin goes a bit sheepish, as if he knows you won’t like it. Remus breaks the news instead. 

“We’re taking you back to the hospital with us,” he says. “You’re dehydrated and overheated. You should be on fluids for a little while before you go home.” 

A petulant sound rises from the back of your throat. You’re too exhausted to be embarrassed of it. 

“Oh, come on, it’s like take your girlfriend to work day!” James grins at you, squeezing your upper arm bolsteringly. “You can just relax and recover for a few hours, and when we get off we can all go home.” 

“I don’t like your work,” you complain, even as James and Sirius move you onto the gurney. 

“Crazy coincidence, because I don’t like seeing you at our work,” Sirius teases. He pinches your chin meanly. “Honestly, doll, could you do us a favor next time and drink water? I almost threw up when we got here and saw it was you. And I’ve never seen Remus move that fast in his life. He vaulted over a park bench.” 

“I went around it,” Remus says, rolling his eyes. “There was no vaulting involved.” 

“And if I’d thrown up, and Remus had broken his ankle performing athletic feats,” Sirius goes on, “then our poor Jamesie would’ve had all three of us to deal with! Really, my love, try to think ahead next time. There’s more on the line than just you, you know.”

[ellecdc]

About the onde bed trope… since there aren’t a lot of those, I was wondering if you could write one with reader and wolfstar? Maybe a smut or just something fluff

hi babes! so I got this request right after someone had asked for recommendations for one-bed tropes, which I had only ever read one and shared it. SO, I wanted to remind everyone of the cute wolfstar x reader one bed fic I read by @longlivedelusion, and know that while I'm happy to contribute to this super fun trope with our lovely wolfstar, that it was more than likely inspired by their awesome work linked above!

poly!wolfstar x Potter!reader who have to share a bed [2.8k words]

CW: mutual pining, feelings of 3rd wheeling, fluff, potter family

The hotel was bustling with what appeared to be just as many staff as there were patrons waiting in the lobby.

Bags were being whisked away, key cards were being handed to waiting hands, and nearly every second person was wearing a Manchester United jersey. 

James was positively giddy and practically vibrating with excitement, Lily and Regulus had their faces shoved into Lily’s phone as they (re)read the itinerary they had planned for James’ birthday trip, Remus arched his shoulders as he let his duffle fall to the ground and Sirius murmured promises of a back massage when they got to their room, and you people watched. 

Your parents had given James (and all of his friends) tickets to the Manchester home game and a few nights stay at a posh hotel close to the stadium.

Lily and Regulus, being James’ dutiful partners, planned other things for the lot of you to do while you were here, too.

Right now, however, you wanted nothing more than to get to your room, take a shower to wash the train off of your being, and go to sleep.

Mercifully the check in counter cleared and your group stepped up to the waiting concierge. 

“Hi there! We’re checking in for Potter; group of six.” Lily offered primly as she handed the man a copy of the booking number. 

“Right! Okay, so Potter, two rooms, each with a king, for three nights.” The man read from the screen, looking over in concern when six varied protests sounded from the group.

“No, I’m quite sure it’s meant to be three rooms.” Lily corrected quickly, offering you a worried glance before she nearly leaned over the welcome desk to peer at the computer monitor as if she was ready to take over for the concierge. 

The man hummed as he continued tapping keys and clicking his mouse and scrolling and please for the love of God don’t let there be a mix up.

It was going to be you that was the problem; not Lily and Regulus who were counting on a romantic trip to celebrate their boyfriend, and not Remus and Sirius with their long-established relationship and promises of Remus’ massage.

“The booking is only showing two rooms, uhm, let me just confirm with my manager that I’m not missing anything.” He bumbled awkwardly before standing and all but fleeing from the group of you. 

“It’s probably just a mistake.” James offered quickly as he jostled your shoulder. “With this many people here, the system is probably just lagging.”

But it wasn’t just a mistake and the system wasn’t just lagging and there was very much only two rooms booked under Potter.

“Is there any way we can book a third room? It can go on the same card.” You asked meekly, nervously glancing between the manager and the computer. 

“Unfortunately, the hotel is entirely booked.” She offered you with a pained smile, and just from your survey of the lobby while you’d been waiting in line, you knew that had to be true. 

“Do you have any cots we could have sent up to the rooms?” Lily asked hopefully, earning another grimace from the manager which was all the response you needed.

You could feel the group looking at you awkwardly and you immediately regretted even coming; you should have just left James to celebrate his birthday with his partners and best friends and stayed out of it, but instead, you were the troublesome younger sibling who your parents forced the group to bring along. Maybe you could catch a train back home? Maybe you could catch a train a town or two over and just have your own mini vacation and leave them to their celebrations.

“Don’t worry, bug!” James said as he rubbed your arm roughly before reaching over you to grab the keys to the two rooms from the concierge who was clearly now only waiting for the lot of you to bugger off so he could help the people behind you. “We’ll make this work.”

“You shouldn’t have to make it work, Jamie.” You moaned as your group moved to stand against a wall across the lobby as you all tried to problem solve this. 

“Both rooms have just one bed each, right? Do either of them have a sofa?” Regulus asked first.

“The pictures online didn’t look like it; the rooms had the bed, one grandfather chair, and a desk with a rolling desk chair.” Lily responded. 

“Okay, well, both rooms have king sized beds, we can share.” Sirius offered simply, causing you to nearly whimper.

“I’m not going to impose on anyone’s beds.” You murmured as you stared resolutely at your feet.

“You can share with me! It’ll be like the old days when we’d have a “sleepover” in the living room!” James offered excitedly, and you had to hand it to him for his sense of adventure and enthusiasm, but you couldn’t help but notice the quick glance Lily and Regulus shared.

“It’s your birthday weekend, Jamie, you should get to spend it with your partners.”

“Okayyyy, uhm, what about the girls room together and boys room together?” He offered instead, causing Lily to furrow her brows at him.

“But then two of us will be sharing while four of you will be sharing.” She countered, followed up quickly by Regulus who stated he would not, under any circumstances, be sharing a bed with his brother. 

“No, you’re right, erm, well… Me, Pads, and Moony could share-”

“James, I love you, but you’re terrible at this.” Sirius interrupted before turning his gaze to you. “You should just stay with me and Moons; leave these three to their…canoodling.” He said around a theatrical gag. 

“You guys were probably looking forward to a romantic stay too.” You muttered somewhat petulantly, and that was what nearly brought you to the brink of tears.

Not that you were the figurative sixth wheel, not that you were left without a room and imposing on two relationships, and not even that you felt particularly out of place.

No, the thing that nearly brought you to tears was the fact that you were acting so petulant on your brother's birthday which he had been so incredibly excited for.

You would not ruin this for him, for any of them. 

“No, you know what, sorry, you’re right, Sirius. I’ll pile the extra bedding they keep in the closets and make myself a little nest on the floor, it’ll be like camping!” You decided, pasting on the widest smile you could muster. 

You swore you saw Sirius’ face fall slightly but powered on when James was back to clapping his hands together excitedly. “Brilliant! This will be so fun, and so worth it, bug. Don’t you worry.”

And you were worried, but he didn’t need to know that. 

ʚ ═══·୨ ꕤ ୧·═══ ɞ

“You’re not actually going to sleep on the floor, right doll?” Sirius asked after the hotel door shut with a click behind him as he glanced around the room. 

It was perhaps a bit tight, but if you set up your little nest underneath the window, neither boy should trip over you in the middle of the night should they need to use the loo.

“Oh it’ll be fine.” You offered in what you hoped was convincing nonchalance. 

“I really think the bed is big enough, dove. And Sirius usually latches onto me in the night so you shouldn’t even notice we’re there.” Remus offered gently, watching as you flung the closet doors open to procure the extra bedding. 

“S’not my fault, moons.” Sirius countered as he trailed right on your heels to where you were trying to make your ‘nest’. “You keep the thermostat so sodding low, I’d simply freeze to death if you didn’t share your body heat.”

He ignored your indignant “oi!” as he immediately plucked your pillows and blankets off the floor from where you’d placed them and moved them to the end of the bed. “And, I think you do that on purpose; you like cuddling.” He continued, gently swatting at your hands as you tried to reclaim your makeshift bed. 

“Oh, I love cuddling.” Remus agreed readily, clearly ignoring the fact that you and Sirius were currently in a petty squabble over linens. “What I don’t like is being jolted awake to your ice cold feet being shoved under my thighs at three o'clock in the morning- dove.” He gave you a pointed look with one arched eyebrow as you huffed petulantly and crossed your arms. 

“You are not sleeping on the floor, doll. Your parents paid for the sodding rooms.” Sirius claimed resolutely. 

“They were meant to pay for three rooms so that you two would have some privacy.” You argued.

“You’re really the only one upset about this, babes.” He stated, face softening when you nervously pulled your lip between your teeth. “If you’re worried about space, I’ll take the floor.”

“I don’t want you to take the floor.”

“Then I’ll take-” Remus started, but was interrupted when both you and Sirius spat “you’re not sleeping on the floor, Remus” and “like fuck you’re sleeping on the floor, don’t be ridiculous”, respectively. 

“So those are your choices, sweetheart; I take the floor or we share the bed.” 

After this many years of knowing each other, you knew when Sirius was bluffing, and you knew when it was better to fold; with the no nonsense look that currently adorned his face, you knew that those were, indeed, your only options.

You looked over at the bed wearily; it really was quite large…and you could use your own blanket so that you weren’t encroaching on their space or stealing their blankets. 

The problem was that the bed wasn’t the only problem. It also was very much the fact that you were pretty well completely gone for two of your brothers best friends.

Two of your brothers best friends who were very much dating each other. 

Two of your brothers best friends who were dating each other that you were completely gone for and now forced to share a bed with them. 

Awesome. 

ʚ ═══·୨ ꕤ ୧·═══ ɞ

Sirius just about died when you stepped out of the bathroom with wet hair leaving damp patches on your sleep shirt and your legs on full display thanks to the matching shorts.

He just about died again when you caught him staring at you.

He nearly died a third time when Remus’ pointed clearing of his throat was what finally broke him from the trance you had on him; both he and Remus now red in the face while you looked to be fairing little better as you hid behind your wet hair and fussed with your toiletries instead of looking at either of them.

Sirius felt horribly pathetic - years of living with the Potter’s did absolutely nothing to dim the flame he held for you, nor did the physical space that living with Remus in their own flat for the past few years offered him.

The only thing that made his infatuation slightly less embarrassing was the fact that Remus held a similar flame for you, too. 

So while this was sort of everything he’d ever wanted - spending the night in a bed with two people he was absolutely crazy about - he was equally afraid of making you horribly uncomfortable. 

“Smooth.” Remus muttered as he came up behind Sirius only after you’d gone back into the bathroom to brush your teeth.

Sirius wanted to turn and sneer at his boyfriend. “I know I am” danced on the tip of his tongue; his usual suave blaseness in all its glory rearing its head at the insinuation that Sirius was anything but a certified charmer.

But all that managed to leave Sirius’ lips was a breathy “fuck” as he stared decisively at the space you’d been standing previously.

But before Sirius could spend any (more) time spiralling or Remus could offer words of encouragement (or commiseration), you were tentatively sliding into what the three of you had agreed would be your side.

Your side. 

The sentiment made Sirius stomach dip; after all these years he was finally getting a taste of what he’d always wanted.

Yet it wasn’t enough.

The lights were off and Sirius’ back was pressed into Remus’ chest as they both watched the steady rise and fall of your shoulders as you slept. They’d both felt so tired on the train ride here, yet neither of them could bring themselves to close their eyes when the alternative was getting to see you rest in their bed.

“Is this really happening?” Remus whispered quietly then, causing Sirius to snuggle impossibly further into him.

“Feels like a dream.” Sirius whispered back; his hand itching to reach out and twirl a lock of your drying hair around his finger, to encourage you to roll over so that they could see your pretty face, to pull you into him and hold you close. 

Remus tightened his hold around Sirius and pushed his nose into his shoulder. “We should tell her; need to tell her… this weekend.” 

Sirius shook his head, but it wasn’t in disagreement. Rather, it was in exasperation.

“I can’t believe she can’t tell how crazy we are about her.” 

And Sirius nearly died a fourth time in one night when you seemingly shot up out of a dead sleep and spun to face them. 

“You’re what?” You asked; no hints of sleep in your tone (nor your wild eyes) as you stared at them incredulously. 

“Fuck.” Sirius repeated eloquently as he and Remus both sat up, the latter leaning over to turn on a lamp causing both you and Sirius to wince as your eyes adjusted.

“I thought you were asleep?” Sirius accused then, but you didn’t take the bait. 

“You’re…what about me?” You whispered carefully.

“Crazy.” Remus responded quickly; whether he was braver than Sirius or opting to rip the bandaid off, Sirius didn’t know. “We’re crazy about you.”

You made a breathy sound, almost as if you were going to ask “what” or “why” or “when” before the question died on your lips. 

Sirius stared at you in wait; he didn’t know whether you were about to cry, whether you were going to demand they let you build a ‘nest’ on the floor so you could escape them, or whether you were going to call your folks and ask them to pick you up.

So when your face broke out into a slow, still disbelieving but equally relieved grin, well…he’d be damned. 

“Yeah?” You asked hopefully, eyes swimming with unshed tears as you nervously looked between the two of them. 

“Yeah…” Sirius let out with a breath, daring to reach across the expanse of the bed that the three of you had clearly decided would be a no-man zone and delighting when you eagerly accepted his hand in yours.

“We thought you were asleep, dove.” Remus offered gently, and a shy smile crept across your face as you shook your head, a lone tear trailing down your cheek that your free hand was quick to wipe away.

“Couldn’t.”

“Why not?” Sirius cooed pathetically, rubbing along your knuckles with his thumb as he took your inability to sleep to be a personal offence. 

“Was too busy thinking about how crazy I am about the two of you, too.” You admitted in a whisper, and Sirius wondered if he had even frozen long enough to share more than a 0.35 second glance with Remus before he bodily launched himself and tackled you to the bed before peppering your face with kisses as you squealed.

“You mean-” kisses “to tell me-” more kisses as you giggled “that we could have been doing this” you squealed as he nipped at your collar bone “this whole sodding time!?” 

“Oi!” Remus chided teasingly. “Don’t maul her!” Though his statement was severely undermined when he all but pulled you into his lap to press his own rough kiss to the side of your face. 

“Oh, I’m just getting started.” Sirius threatened with a beaming smile as you looked at him breathlessly; eyes bright, smile wide, and heart full. “We have lost time to make up for.” 

ʚ ═══·୨ ꕤ ୧·═══ ɞ

Enough was enough, quite frankly. The tiptoeing, the dancing, the shy glances, the longing looks - it was all too much.

Something simply needed to be done.

Was it temerarious? Perhaps. Was it conniving? More than slightly. But was it also necessary? Most definitely.

She only hoped that she hadn’t gone too far, is all.

But any worries that Euphemia Potter may have had vanished entirely the second that her phone buzzed with a text from James the next morning that simply read: it worked.

[strawbeerossi]

Baby Fever

Pairing: Wife!Reader x Husband!Spencer

Description: After seeing Henry and Spencer interact after the little boy wears an adorable Halloween costume, you know what you want from your husband more than anything else

Content/Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy and wanting to be pregnant, kissing, unprotective sex, penetrative sex, creampie, some cute banter.

Word Count: 2K

Kinktober Day Ten: Breeding

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

It was currently Halloween, the team getting back from the case just a few short hours ago. You and Spencer had plans to go get something for dinner and then make your way home for a night filled with spooky movies and a bowl filled with candy that neither of you needed. Everyone was currently wrapping up what little bit that needed to be done when JJ was coming back into the bullpen, a wide smile on her face. “Attention everybody. As I’m sure most of you were aware, Henry was a little nervous about going trick or treating this year.” She’d clasped her hands together with a smile as the team was looking between each other in curiosity. “But he’s decided to go anyway.” She’d finished, David smiling. “Great. What changed his mind?”

“The BAU did. I told him that he should go out on Halloween and try to figure out which monsters are real and which ones are not.” She mused. “So he wants to be a profiler.” Derek smiled, hands in his pockets while JJ put her hand up. “Ah. He wants to be his favorite profiler.” She corrected while everyone was glancing at the open door of the bullpen when Penelope was bringing in a mini Spencer.

Henry’s costume idea was precious, you had to admit it. The whole idea of him being a profiler would be fun for him, however being a little Spencer?! You never thought you needed to see it this badly until you did. “Woah! Yeah! Oh wow, You look great, Henry!” Spencer was shooting up from his spot with a wide smile from excitement, the way his eyes had a little sparkle in them was enough to make you start to wonder.

Sure, you’d talked about children with your husband before, the both of you wanting a sweet little family in a sweet little suburb. However you never really put too much thought into it before now. Seeing Spencer excitedly kneel down to clip his nametag to Henry’s shirt and watching him get teary eyed in his admiration for his god son, this was all you needed to know that you were for sure ready for the next step.

After seeing the little boy off, the team was wrapping up their activities before everyone was making their way out of the building, leaving you and Spencer to go pick up something for dinner then you two decided on going home. Upon making it, you were in the kitchen of your shared apartment while putting the takeout meals on plates, Spencer trying to find some sort of Halloween movie to put on for your little tradition of festivities to begin. 

“Hey, Spencer.” You break the silence while carrying the plates to place them on the coffee table perched in front of the couch with other numerous treats. “I was thinking.. We wanted to wait a couple years for kids and.. We have been married for three years, child free.” You brought it up the only way you know how. “I guess what I’m saying is, I think we should start trying! I mean, you and Henry were so sweet today and it really got me thinking about more. What we don’t have yet.” 

Spencer had turned his attention towards you, a soft smile on his face as he let you initiate conversation. However as soon as you were mentioning kids, it was like his eyes lit up, body shooting up straighter. “You really wanna start trying? I’ve been wanting to since the day we got married but I know we agreed to wait.” He laughed a bit while offering a wide smile. “I’d love to have a baby with you, honey. More than anything else.”

His excitement filled you with relief, a smile matching his as you were letting your arms wrap around his shoulders. “Let's do it then! I mean, we are both financially stable and we are secure together. Let's bring a little Reid into the world.” You gushed. You were both cut off by the sound of Spencer’s stomach rumbling though, making the both of you giggle. “Maybe after dinner.” He teased, pressing a few soft kisses against your lips. 

You didn’t think you’ve ever gone through dinner so quickly in your life, the both of you doing good to clean up your dishes before Spencer was already attacking you in his embrace in  the kitchen, the both of you sharing kisses while standing in place. “Bed please.” You murmured while smiling as he obliged, grabbing your hand with a smile as he quickly led you off to your shared bedroom. 

There was without a missed beat, Spencer was easily lifting you in his arms before pressing his lips against yours, one that radiated pure love and care, his hands resting under your thighs as you were carried to the king size bed. Once on your back, you were bringing your hands to cup his cheeks while you were both lying in bed, tangled in one another’s embrace. “I love you so much.” His words were like sweet honey. 

“I love you so much.” The both of you parted briefly, Spencer moving to rest his hands on your hips, fingertips slipping slowly up your blouse as he was gently pushing it up your frame. His lips were pressing the sweetest of kisses against your warm skin, the both of you working together as you tugged the garment over your head.

His onslaught of pressing kisses against your skin trailing to your chest, his hands reaching behind you to remove your bra with the utmost care. His tongue was licking over your hardened nipple, a soft breath falling from your lips as you let your hands tangle in his hair. 

Spencer liked to take his time with you, hardly ever having days where he needed to get it over and done with. He preferred to savor the moment, to enjoy the intimacy that came with the act. As his lips were wrapping around the nub, he was taking his time to suck and flick his tongue, satisfied with the noises leaving your lips. After moving to switch breasts, his free hand was sliding down your stomach. You could feel all the heat rush between your legs as you knew exactly what was coming next. His hand had slipped past your pants and the waistband of your panties, hand cupping your wet pussy as he slowly lifted his head from your chest. “My pretty girl.” He whispered, your hands gently pulling him down to connect your lips while his hand was cupping your clothed cunt, feeling the heat of your arousal. 

He loved having this effect on you, the way that he could satisfy you and get you revved up by the smallest of touches. His eidetic memory worked out really well in that case, he memorized every curve and dip of your body, every touch that made you crave him more. 

His fingertip was teasing your slit, spreading around the slick before finding your clit. You knew that he wanted to take his time and play the long game but if you were honest, you were so desperate. 

“Please, Spencer..” You breathed while watching as he offered a soft smile. “You really wanna skip the foreplay?” He’d asked. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t bummed, wanting nothing more than to taste you, to drink up every ounce of sweetness that you had to offer him. 

“As much as I love when you take your time and cherish me, I just need you now.” If you were honest, you were just excited for the aspect to feel that familiar closeness. Spencer didn’t argue in the slightest, hand gently moving from your panties before he was sitting up slightly to tug your pants and underwear down in one swift movement, a smile on his face as he was stripping you bare for him. No matter how many times he’s seen you, it was like he’d never seen you before. His cheeks were red as he brought his hands to gently rub your hips. 

After a few moments of his eyes taking in the beauty in front of him, he was moving to stand so he could get himself undressed, getting himself naked while clumsily nearly falling on the bed when it came to his pants and boxers. It was silly, like you two were teenagers who finally had an opening to fool around without someone there to stop you both. 

His hands were gently taking a hold of your hips, tugging you down to the edge of the bed as he offered a smile. You both had been safe enough before, always having some sort of contraception at the ready. After your body had a bad reaction to the birth control you were on, he’d offered to wear condoms, not wanting to opt for a vasectomy due to his want for children. They could be reversed but he didn’t want to get one just to reverse it later.

“Ready?”

“Let’s make a baby.” 

Those words sent blood straight to Spencer’s cock. The idea of you being pregnant with your shared child, a symbol of your love and affection for each other, was a lot to take in. It was like his animalistic urges had started to break through the cracks. Licking the palm of his hand, the male was pumping his throbbing shaft to prepare himself before positioning himself at your leaking hole. 

Leaning down to press his lips to yours, it wasn’t long until his cock was disappearing inside of your soaked cunt, the both of you moaning against one another’s lips. Your hands came up to hold tight to his shoulders, pulling from the kiss slowly as you let your head fall back against the bed below you. 

Spencer’s hips rocked slowly at first, relishing in your little gasps and whines from the painfully slow pace. “You look so beautiful, always take me so well.” He breathed, hands rubbing your hips, just wanting to touch you more than he already was. The idea of your stomach swollen with his baby was just too much to bear, making his hips snap a little rougher against yours, which managed to catch you by surprise but you gripped his upper arms with a loud moan, head tilting back as the tip of his cock was hitting the spongey button deep inside of you. 

“You’re gonna look so sexy with my child inside of you. Gonna show the whole world that you are mine, that you are devoted to me.” The words were enough to elicit a moan besides his thrusts. As you could feel the familiar knot tightening in your stomach, you were gently tugging your husband down to have your chests pressed flush against one anothers. Now you weren’t usually the type to dirty talk but judging by how Spencer seemed to be turned on so much more when it comes to thinking of you being pregnant. 

“Fuck, fill me with your cum.” You panted, the words making his cock twitch inside of you as he was letting out an animalistic groan. “Want me to fill you up? Gonna get my pretty girl pregnant.” His tone was huskier now, a sign he was definitely just as close as you were.

Your pussy was convulsing around his thick cock, your head falling back as your mouth was agape. “I’m gonna cum.” You blubbered out, a whine leaving your lips as you could feel his thumb making contact with your throbbing, desperate clit. “Cum for me, baby. Want you to make a mess.” He breathed, giving a few more thrusts before both of you had managed to hit your peaks, the ropes of cum decorating your inner walls while Spencer’s body was collapsing on top of you. It wasn’t enough to crush you, one arm holding him up. 

“I’m just gonna.. Stay here for a minute..” He panted while you laughed breathlessly, your fingers gently threading through his hair as you closed your eyes.

“You know, it’s actually very rare to become pregnant from the first time having sex.” He began as he was pushing himself up slightly, his hair stuck to his sticky forehead. “I know.. You know, I feel like you’re gonna have to fuck me again.” You breathed, giggling at his reaction.

“We should’ve tried for a baby sooner.”

[urfriendlywriter]

friends to lovers heart fluttering moments:

(feel free to use<3 i miss being active :') TAG ME WHEN YALL WRITE PLSSS WOULD LOVE TO READD )

running into their arms after being away for too long !!!!

leaning into each other when laughing.

casually linking arms, holding-hands, sharing hugs that lasts a teensy tiny bit longer. AHHHHH

them watching you do ur own thing with so much admiration [I've one want in life-]

"why?" "because it's you." (like them doing smthng espeviallyyforu)

"I'll do anything, as long as it's with you." n they nonchalantly say it.??? ( MA SONGG OMG)

spending more time together than usual

having your parents tease you and ship you together > ~ <

teasing them and they actually blush???

getting physically close during the denial phase. IMAGINE KISSING AND FREAKING OUT SAYING, "friends... kiss. right?"

getting ur breath hitched whenever they're too close.

imagine lingering with ur mouth slightly parted while both of ur noses brush, eyes fluttering just wondering---where this is going.

^ AND WHEN THEY SAY, "fuck it. may i kiss u?" but their voice is so low, yearning so hard.

getting noticeably shy after going a lil too hard on the kissing--"it's ok, we're still friends, right?"

a third person NOTICING IT AND going, "oh SO yall are the type to kiss and nOT TELL?" "WhAT NO, WE DIDNT-" "YEAH WE DIDN'T."

^ but one if one of them is an idiot n they go, "HOW DID U NOTICE?" "ha, so i was correct. yall mfs-!!!"

and the realising phase of how much you like them

and not being able to wait until u see them. so u can confess, get it out and about.

or what if? they end up ur house at 4 am in pouring rain and say, "i know we're best friends, but i want to be more. Let me be yours forever please, and not just as friends this time." AAAAAAAH.

SCREAMING N FIGHTING KISSING IN THE RAIN, ITS 2 AM N UR LOVIN THEIR NAME SO IN LOVE BUT U ACT INSANEEE N THATS THE WAY U LOVE THEMMM

[an-spideog]

Don't Use Duolingo if You Really Want to Learn Irish

That title is a bit dramatic, but I really don't think that duolingo is a useful tool for Irish, especially in its current state, so I want to talk a bit about why, and I'll also talk about some alternatives.

Pronunciation

The first and most egregious issue is that at some point recently-ish, duo decided to start using Text-To-Speech for their Irish course, rather than recordings of a native speaker. The problem here is that their TTS is not trained on native speakers of Irish and pronounces words incorrectly. It doesn't make consistent distinctions between broad and slender consonants for example.

Irish has no standard pronunciation, so I understand how it can feel weird to choose just one dialect for the purposes of pronunciation (the old recordings were from a speaker of Galway Irish), but having just one dialect is much better than TTS which sounds like a learner, imagine if they had TTS for the French course which sounded like an anglophone schoolkid trying to pronounce french, and claimed they were teaching you how to speak french!

Grammar

Duo tends to be correct on grammar at least, which is a start. But often people using it get very confused about the grammar because duo doesn't explain any of it. I think there's a place for immersion in language learning, and I don't think everything has to be explained like that, but within duo's system of sentence testing and exercises like that, not having any explanation for why it's "mo chóta" and not "mo cóta" can be really confusing. Duo used to have more grammar information, it's a shame that they removed it, I wonder why they did it.

Money and Motivation

Duolingo is a business, and their motivation is not to help you learn a language 'fully', but to keep you using their app and hopefully have a higher chance of sharing it with others, competing with others, buying or causing others to buy memberships or lingots or any other in-app purchases.

I don't want to make it out like duo is some big conspiracy and they're tricking people, I don't think that's the case, but it's good to remember that their primary motivation is to keep people using the app, rather than help people move to a level in a language where they don't need the app anymore.

Keep this in mind whenever you see people trying to sell you stuff for language learning.

Why do people use Duolingo

I do get it, and I don't want to make anyone feel bad for using duo, there's a ton of reasons people tend towards it at first 1. It's really well known, so especially if you're learning a language and haven't heard of other resources for it, you'll check duolingo 2. It's very motivating for a lot of people, checking in every day and forming that habit is a really good way of sticking with a language 3. It's fun, people enjoy it

If you use it for reason 3. and you still like it, then don't worry about this post, I'm not trying to yuck anyone's yums, keep having fun!

If you use it for reasons 1. or 2. you can still keep using it if you like, but I want to suggest some other things which you might find helpful in trying to get to a higher level in Irish.

Other Resources

To address the pronunciation issue, I'd heavily recommend you disregard the pronunciation in duolingo, if you're looking for more reliable sources of pronunciation, I'd look towards recordings of native speakers, you can find that on:

Teanglann and Foclóir (they use the same recordings)

Fuaimeanna

and a really useful and underused one: https://davissandefur.github.io/minimal-pairs/ where you can hear the difference between similar sounds that English speakers often mix up in Irish.

A lot of people like duolingo because it's nice to have a clear path forward, a progression that you can get into without too much decision-making. For this I recommend getting a good textbook or course and working through it, the ones I'll recommend also have native speaker audio on them.

Learning Irish by Mícheál Ó Siadhail, this book teaches Galway Irish, not just in pronunciation but in grammar too. It's quite dense but it's well thought out and well explained.

Teach Yourself Irish (1961) this book is available for free online, and is a really good option if you're interested in Cork Irish (Munster), and have some experience with grammatical terminology. I used this book myself and really liked it, but it's very intense and not for everyone. (If you do end up using it, feel free to skip the appendices at the start, they're more of a reference and sometimes put people off from actually getting to the first chapter. Also if you have any questions about it or need any help just let me know.)

If you want a video course, there's a great course called "Now You're Talking" which is available for free online, along with audio files and worksheets here. It features Donegal Irish and leads into the more intermediate level course called Céim ar Aghaidh also available online.

There's other textbooks that I have less experience with (Buntús na Gaeilge, Gaeilge/Gramadach Gan Stró, etc.) but if they work for you, stick with them, there's nothing worse than not making progress because you keep switching resources trying to find the "perfect one"

Whether or not you continue to use Duolingo, I would really really encourage you to try engaging with media in Irish. People often shy away from this when they're learning because they don't feel like they're "ready" yet. But you basically never feel like you're ready, you just have to try and find something near your level and try to get comfortable with not understanding everything. This is where you learn a huge portion of the language, you hear how things are pronounced you see what words mean in what contexts, getting input in your target language is so important!

I know content can be kind of hard to find, so I'll make a few recommendations here: There's a wealth of content available for free online (more if you're in ireland but some internationally) on TG4 If you're still starting out, I'd recommend trying to watch some kids shows since they'll have simpler language and will be easier to follow. I wouldn't recommend using English subtitles when you watch them. Some good options include:

Dónall Dána: an Irish dub of Horrid Henry, silly and childish but the actors have good Irish and importantly the show has Irish language subtitles, they don't always match but if you're still beginning and can't necessarily get everything by ear, they're really useful. (Mostly Galway Irish)

Curious George: another dub, again with Irish language subtitles (I can't remember what dialects were in it off the top of my head but I'd assume mostly galway again)

Seó Luna: No subtitles, but a good option if you're aiming for Munster Irish, the lead character has Kerry Irish

Miraculous: No subtitles but a better show than most of the other kids' ones and more bearable to watch as an adult (Mostly Galway Irish)

Ros na Rún: Moving away from kids shows, a long running soap opera, this has Irish subtitles and a really good mix of dialects within the show. If you're finding the kids shows boring or too easy I'd really recommend it, but it can be complex because of the amount of characters, dialects, and plotlines. I'd recommend starting at the beginning of a newer season and just trying to catch on to what's happening as you go.

There are a lot of books, if you live in Ireland you can get nearly any Irish book for free from a library, so please check out your local library or request some of these from other libraries in the system:

There's a series of fairytales (Rápúnzell, Luaithríona etc.) by Máiréad Ní Ghráda which are illustrated and for children, which are a really good option for when you're just starting out reading

There's kids books about Fionn and the Fianna by Tadhg Mac Dhonnagáin

There's a cute little kids' book in Kerry Irish about a cat named Mábúis

Leabhar Breac has a lot of graphic novels, some of them based on Irish mythology, some on other stuff. The fact that they're illustrated can make it a lot easier to follow even if you don't understand all the words at first.

Gliadar has just released their Scott Pilgrim translation

If you're looking for something a bit more advanced you can look at some of the books for adult learners by Comhar, they contain simplified language and glossaries but have full original adult stories.

And if you're wanting full, natural, native-level Irish there's a load of books by those same groups, and others like An Gúm, Cló Iar-Chonnacht, Oidhreacht Chorca Dhuibhne, Éabhlóid, Coiscéim, and more.

And don't shy away from older books written in Seanchló either, they can be more challenging but it's a whole extra world of books

If you're trying to improve your listening comprehension, I definitely recommend listening to shows on Raidió na Gaeltachta, hearing native Irish speakers talk at full speed is really good practice. But I get that it can be overwhelming at first. Here are some things you can do as you build up to that:

Watching those same TV shows I mentioned without subtitles is a good way to build up listening skills.

Vifax is a website where you can practice listening to short news segments and answer questions on them, then getting to look at the transcript with notes afterwards.

Snas is kind of the evolution of vifax, now using clips from both the news and Ros na Rún.

I really hope that this post can help people move away from duolingo if they're looking to take their Irish learning to the next level, if you've got any questions, just let me know!

[northlt03]

Amortentia (Jegulus)

Regulus didn’t smell. It drove James insane sometimes. 

He didn’t smell after quidditch practice, or even after just waking up. It was another one of those things about him that made him seem “perfect”. James hated it. 

Regulus was so much more than the image he presented himself to be, but he’d gotten too lost in playing the part, maybe that’s all he’d become. 

Every single “imperfection” had been driven away by his mother. Not just for Regulus, but for Sirius as well. The Black family had an image to maintain, high society they had to live in. They couldn’t accept body odor, crooked teeth, or any blemishes on their skin. 

James didn’t know how they did it. But none of the Blacks had any negative body odor. No matter how much they sweat. 

It’s not to say they don’t have a particular smell. According to Slughorn, everyone had a distinct smell, something unique about them. 

Sirius smelled like wet dog fur, James knew this because he slept in the bed next to him and every night Sirius turned to padfoot in his sleep. 

Narcissa smelled like spring, like her namesake— narcissus. Strangely intense, yet cool and floral. James had only placed the smell last year when they had grown the flower in herbology. 

Walburga black smelled like roses, James imagined that’s what the queen of hearts from Alice in Wonderland smelled like. It was suffocating if you had the displeasure to be near her, like a thousand thorny plants squeezing your windpipe. 

James wasn’t padfoot, he didn’t memorize smells. But it’s hard not to notice how his closest friends smell. It made him feel warm, to be surrounded by so many people he loves, all with a distinct smell. 

Remus smelled like chocolate, like wet fur, wooly sweaters, a warm fire and old books. James could tell that’s what Sirius was smelling in his cauldron right then. That’s the reason he was thinking so much about smells in the first place. 

Sixth year brought with it responsibilities, but also more advanced potion making. James always wondered why he didn’t drop potions when he had the chance. 

Sirius was blushing so hard, his skin tone matched the pink potion. James had to stifle his own laughter as Remus tried to go over the recipe once again to make sure they had made it correct. They were all paired up for this particular class. Sirius and Remus at one cauldron and James and Peter next to them. It used to be Sirius and James together, but after one too many pranks in the classroom, Professor Slughorn had separated them. 

“Clockwise!” Remus corrected Sirius just before he could have ruined their potion. They were the second ones to finish their potion so Slughorn was already making his way towards the boys. “Bloody hell, Sirius. Stop overmixing it”

James exchanged a look with Peter. Why had he let Sirius pick Remus while pairing up again? Oh that’s right— Wingman duties

James was nowhere near as great as Lily or Remus or even Snivellus in potion making, but he managed. Mostly he used Remus’ notes and applied common sense. It drove Remus insane sometimes, how much work he’d have to put in to memorize something, only for James to make an educated guess about it. James couldn’t really explain how he knew stuff, he just did. Call it pattern awareness, or whatever. 

“So from the way Moony was yelling at Padfoot, I’m guessing we have to stir it clockwise?” James raised an eyebrow.

Peter only snickered as he watched their other two friends bickering like an old married couple. “What’d you think Moony smells, James?”

“Wet dog” James replied easily, “And that awful old leather jacket Padfoot refuses to throw away,”

“I bet Sirius smells chocolate and wool” 

James had known Peter for years, they'd had baths together when they were babies, learned how to ride a bicycle from James’ father, spent ten christmases trying to make gingerbread houses and so many more memories. 

That’s all to say, James knew what Peter smelled like. He had a distinct cologne he swore worked wonders on the ladies, and as stereotypical as it was for the rat to love cheese, he really did. 

So if James was in love with his best mate, that’s what he would have smelled. 

But instead when he dared to take a whiff of the potion (after coughing violently because it was pretty strong), all he smelled was broom wax, old books and paint. 

“Mmmhmm” Peter grinned, “Camembert, and candy. Smells so great I’m hungry now. And you?”

“Old books” He frowned, “And paint”

“Careful, Pads might think you’re in love with Moony too”

James wasn’t sure what he was expecting. He was glad he didn’t smell lilies, relating to his old embarrassing crush. It had been months since he had obsessed over Lily Evans and even thinking about that time made him cringe. 

James had quickly realized he had no idea what love was supposed to be. He grew up watching his parents so immensely in love he’d been in love with the idea of love and the idea of Lily Evans. And ideas are dangerous things to be in love with. 

For his sake and Lily’s, he was glad he stopped liking her. 

But after Lily… well, there had been someone James had grown a liking too. And he couldn’t help the disappointment when he didn’t smell Regulus in the potion. He took a few more whiffs, just to be sure. But to no avail. The potion still smelled the same. 

James wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much. Maybe he was just incapable of loving. Because he couldn’t smell Regulus, that had to mean he wasn’t in love with the boy as he had previously thought. This was clearly a Lily situation again. And that bothered James. Mainly because he wanted to be in love. Not just because of his fantasy of being so in love with someone, but also because Regulus was so lovely. 

He was witty and sharp, beautiful and sarcastic, knowledgeable and petty, headstrong and stubborn but also sweet and funny. He seemed to positively glow under James’ praise. James loved it when he flushed pink, James loved it when he shot back a retort, when he smiled a secret smile for only James, when he dragged his long fingers over James’ skin— touch for the sake of touch. James loved every single thing about Regulus, the way his eyes crinkled when he tried to stop himself from laughing at one of James’ bad jokes, the way he sneezed, the way his lips parted, the way he tasted so sweet when they kissed, but most of all, James thought he was in love with Regulus.

He wasn’t sure what smell he was searching for. He knew Regulus didn’t smell. He didn’t have a signature smell like Peter’s cologne. But James was still disappointed. 

He wanted to make Regulus feel loved, he wanted to be in love. He had said it once and Regulus had said it before. 

Three simple words. 

And what if they were a lie?

A knock on the door made Slughorn change directions. He had been heading toward James and Peter’s potion to check it, but he walked toward the open door. 

James would have recognised those curls anywhere. 

Even before Regulus was fully visible, stepping into the doorway, eyes searching the class, James was grinning. Who cared what the stupid potion said? The potion could be wrong. Maybe James and Peter brewed it wrong. 

All that mattered was that Regulus lit up James’ world, it genuinely felt that way. Just passing him in the hallways, getting to stare at him as he stared at the stars, just listening to him talk about astronomy or his favorite paintings felt like a reward to James.

So yeah, fuck the potion. 

James Potter was in love with Regulus Black.

That’s when he spotted the paint splattered on the edges of his otherwise neat robe. He was handing a book he must have borrowed back to Slughorn. His eyes landed on James and though he tried to keep his composure in thanking the professor, James grew ecstatic at the acknowledgement.

The effect Regulus had on him really had to be studied. 

Just before he left, he sniffed the room, his eyebrows furrowing in that Regulus Black way as he mock glared at James. He had the face of an aristocrat but the mind of an artist. Maybe he was both.

James was thankful his table was the closest to the door and the others were too busy either bickering, fawning over their potion or still completing it. 

“You smell, Potter” Regulus scrunched his nose in disgust, turning to walk away, “Didn’t you shower after quidditch? It’s disgusting, it’s a wonder the whole room isn’t gagging with how strong it is, even your sandalwood perfume can’t mask it.”

James could barely say anything before Regulus had walked away. 

Paint splatter, the old books in the room of requirement and Regulus’ personal collection, the broom wax from when James had watched him polish his broom before a match against Hufflepuff. 

Slowly the pieces floated together and James thought he had started floating too. He felt light, like a floating lantern, a ball of warmth in his chest. 

And what had Regulus been talking about? James twisted his ankle his last game. Madam Pomfrey hadn’t cleared him to fly the whole week, he had been moping about not being able to play. 

When he looked at Peter, his friend was looking back with an amused look. 

“Fucking hell, Prongs”

“Don’t tell Padfoot”

[crystallinestars]

Taking Care of Them

Short scenarios about Argenti, Aventurine, and Jing Yuan receiving much-needed care and comfort from you. Pure fluff, a little hurt/comfort for Aventurine's part.

I took some creative liberties with Aventurine's character since we still don't know everything about him yet, so this is simply my interpretation of him.

This isn't proofread because my brain is fried from writing.

--------------------

🌹 Argenti:

As a Knight of Beauty, Argenti is a highly skilled fighter who puts his very life on the line to vanquish his foes. Usually, he defeats his enemies with grace and style, but even the refined Argenti sometimes sustains injuries.

In his most recent battle, Argenti made it out practically unscathed, save for a few scrapes and bruises that marred his handsome face. That was how he found himself obediently sitting on your bed while you treated his wounds.

“I apologize that you have to see me in this state,” he murmurs, guilt darkening his expression. “I did not want to cause you worry.”

“No need to apologize,” you brush off his concerns with a smile. “Now turn this way. I’ll clean the scratch on your cheek,” you said as you gently turn Argenti’s face to one side to reveal the shallow, red gash on his cheek.

Argenti complies without hesitance and sits perfectly still as you dab at the scratch with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. It stings, but the Knight of Beauty unflinchingly tolerates the burn with a small smile on his face.

He can tell through the delicate and careful way you clean and dress his wounds that you care a great deal about him. Your touches were gentle so as to not cause him unnecessary pain, yet no less thorough. It felt nice to be touched so tenderly, to be cared for in such a loving manner.

Your heart is beautiful, he thinks. To possess such a caring and loving heart, you must rival the beauty of his beloved Aeon Idrila. Argenti truly believes that you are a wonderful and beautiful person, both inside and out.

As you finish patching up the last wound and pack away your first aid kit, Argenti turns to you and gives you a radiant, sincere smile from the heart.

“Thank you…” he softly says as gently takes one of your hands and kisses the back of it, “You have a dazzling heart—so pure and gentle. I feel like the luckiest man in the universe to have the privilege of receiving your care and affection.”

His words may sound over-the-top and perhaps even fake, but he truly means them. Every single one. Even if you don’t entirely believe him, the amused smile that his flamboyant phrases elicit out of you is all the reason he needs to keep them up.

“You’re welcome. Just try to be more careful next time. I’ll love you no matter how you look, but I hate seeing you hurt,” you murmur in reply and lean in to kiss the band-aid on his cheek.

“There. A kiss to make it all better,” you giggle as you pull away.

The little gesture catches Argenti by surprise, but he can’t say he didn’t like it. In fact, he enjoyed it more than he ever thought he would.

With a small chuckle, he pulls you close to kiss you fully on the lips. If you don’t take his word for it that he feels incredibly lucky to have your love, then perhaps his actions will convey the sincerity of his feelings for you.

🦚 Aventurine:

All his life, Aventurine has faced hate. Hate for being Sigonian, hate for being a dog of the IPC, hate for acting exactly the way that’s expected of his kind. He played into people’s perceptions of him. Why waste time trying to correct their views when they won’t change? It’s easier to just act according to their expectations and hide who he really is behind this playful and sly mask.

Only with you does he let his carefully crafted façade crumble to reveal his vulnerable self.

Aventurine is very good at acting like everything is fine when the world is against him. Perhaps to an extent, he truly believes that life is all about fighting battles on his lonesome. He can use others and get used as a tool in return, but the only one he can trust is himself. It’s the only life he’s ever known.

However, you’ve known him long enough to tell that the hate and isolation get to him, no matter how much he pretends that they don’t. When he comes home one night after a particularly awful day, it doesn’t take long for you to figure out that he feels down.

Aventurine smiled and teased you like usual, but he spoke less and clung to you more than usual. He hugged you from behind and kept an arm around you no matter what you were trying to do, almost as if he was seeking comfort from your physical presence.

Turning to face him, you glance into his tired eyes.

“What is it, darling? See something you like?” he teased, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smirk.

“Hmm, no,” you hummed. Extending your arms forward, you wrapped them around Aventurine and slowly pulled him into a hug. “I don’t see something I like.”

Aventurine is momentarily stunned by your unprompted action, but he quickly recovers.

“Oh? How come? Am I not appealing enough for you?” he quipped, resting his chin on your shoulder and returning your hug. Unlike your tight hug, his arms wrapped around you in a loose hold, as if he was uncertain how to go about it.

“Quite the opposite,” you softly chuckle, “I don’t see something I like, but I do see someone I love,” you whisper and turn your head to look directly at Aventurine’s face.

A beat of silence passes as Aventurine processes your words, before bursting out laughing.

“That was painfully corny, even for you!” he chuckled.

You scoff but don’t say anything in response, simply continuing to hug him tightly. Slowly, carefully, you card your fingers through his blond hair before moving lower to stroke your palm along his spine in soothing circles.

Aventurine’s laughter dies down, his initial mirth now replaced with something fragile and vulnerable as he falls quiet. He won’t ever share what burdens him, but you don’t need to know the details to provide him comfort. If he doesn’t want to tell you, then you won’t pry. At the very least, you’ll do all you can to support him and remind him that he’s not alone.

Being wrapped up in your warm embrace, feeling your gentle caresses—it all felt unfamiliar to Aventurine. It’s been so long since he felt the tender and loving affection of another person. It took a while, but eventually he relaxed and allowed himself to lean into your body, burying his nose into the crook of your neck.

Silence lingered in the air, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. There was something soothing in not having to talk. It was freeing to not worry about pretending to be okay or be pressured to talk about the things that trouble him.

That hug—that simple act of human affection—made him feel safe and protected in your arms. When you leaned back slightly to plant a tender kiss on Aventurine’s forehead, something inside him snapped and he had to hold back tears. Burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck, he clung tightly to you while you continued to rub slow circles along his back.

“It’s okay. It’ll all be okay, I’m here. You’re not alone…” you whisper, hugging him tighter.

Being wrapped up in your warm hug, feeling your affectionate kisses and gentle words is something Aventurine never knew he needed until now. Just for this moment, he lets his walls come down and bares his wounded self to you with the hope that you can soothe his pain if only a little.

And you do. With whispered reassurances and loving caresses, you ease his hurt, even if just temporarily. He is safe, you promise. He will always be safe in your arms.

🦁 Jing Yuan:

Jing Yuan is notorious for disliking the abundance of paperwork and other leadership tasks he has to take care of on a day-to-day basis as a General of the Xianzhou Luofu. Despite his woeful sighs about how tedious it is, and how the work never seems to end, Jing Yuan still accomplishes all his duties in a timely and precise fashion.

Jing Yuan is a hard worker, you are well aware of that. Which is why when he snuck out of the Seat of Divine Foresight to come spend some free time with you, you offered him to rest on your lap. And who was he to turn down such a tempting opportunity?

Sitting outside on the veranda with Jing Yuan’s head resting on your lap, you softly ran your fingers through his fluffy, white hair, marveling at how silky it was. It was as soft as it looked.

“I could get used to this,” Jing Yuan said with a sigh, relaxing into our touch. His golden eyes were closed as he enjoyed the sensations of your fingers combing through his hair, gently massaging his scalp and soothing any tension he felt.

Chuckling, you looked down at him, mirth dancing in your eyes.

“Really? I wouldn’t mind having you as my lap cat like this more often. Why not come see me every day and get pets?” you tease him as you lightly poke his cheek.

Jing Yuan cracks open one eye to give you an amused look.

“Being your lap cat sounds like a wonderful idea,” he sighs, “Laying on your lap and getting pampered sounds like my ideal life.”

Both of you burst out laughing at the ridiculous notion of Jing Yuan being a lap cat, your spirits lifting as the mood brightened even more.

“Ah, but if you ever want to take a break and relax, you’re always welcome to see me,” you say in a softer voice this time, resuming running your fingers through his tresses.

“I’ll keep your invitation in mind,” he replied, his voice dropping an octave as he relaxed into your touch once more.

The minutes pass in a comfortable and serene atmosphere, with you pampering Jing Yuan with affectionate caresses, meanwhile, the man listens to you talk about your day. You both knew that after this he would have to go back and complete the mountain of work waiting for him, but for now, you were content to spend this little bit of time with your beloved.

Under the warm sun and gentle breeze, with his head resting comfortably on your lap, Jing Yuan felt himself growing drowsy. His eyelids became heavier, and his body didn’t want to move from his position on your lap.

Noticing the General grow sleepy, you fought the urge to tease him. If you pointed out his sleepiness, he would most likely apologize and put a stop to this tranquil moment by getting up and heading back to work. He already saw you less than either of you wanted, simply because work kept him busy. Moments like these were a luxury.

Keeping quiet, you gently massage his scalp until his breaths even out and become deeper, seeming to have fallen asleep. His expression looked so serene and vulnerable, something that very few people have had the chance to witness. As his lover, you were privy to this sight more than most. You watch over him with a small smile on your face, gently tucking away a stray strand of his hair.

Thinking he was asleep, you lean down to press a lingering kiss to his forehead, but as you straighten, you notice Jing Yuan peering up at you with an amused glint in his eyes.

Growing flustered, you quickly look away, feeling your cheeks heat up with a blush.

Jing Yuan only laughs in response, but his laughter quickly turns into a contented purr as you shut him up with another head massage. Whatever teasing remark he had prepared, immediately died on his tongue as relaxation washed over him and he felt sleep take hold of his mind again.

“It’s ok, take a nap. I’ll wake you up in a few minutes,” you murmur, willing Jing Yuan to finally get some rest. You could tell he wanted to protest, but with a light brush of your thumbs over his temples, he released a sigh of defeat and conceded.

“You certainly know how to take advantage of my weaknesses,” he chuckled, voice a little hoarse from drowsiness.

Despite his initial reluctance, Jing Yuan fell asleep fairly quickly. The continuous days of endless work had left him exhausted, but your tender pampering and sweet company were just the respite he needed.

“Sleep tight,” you whisper, gracing him with another sweet kiss on his forehead.