#like the thing is that I'm out to like everyone in my day to day life

[amfstargirl]

Yandere batfam x neglected reader

The cut that always bleed✧.* - what was i made for?

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any grammatical errors that this story may have.

Y/n L/n was a far cry from Y/n Wayne. Despite both last names, each carrying the weight of a turbulent history, "L/n" felt surprisingly lighter. Both names reminded you of the haunting shadows cast by your mother and father, yet they bore different emotional tolls. As you stood before the mirror, a somber reflection gazing back, you pondered on the 13 years—a whole decade and three more—that seemed squandered on people who couldn't hold your gaze for more than fleeting moments.

Of course, the toll it took on your emotional health was immense, but there was nothing you could do about it. You knew that no matter what you did, you could never capture their attention, not even for a moment. By the age of six, you took up martial arts, hoping your family would be proud of you for sharing their passion. But all you received was a pat on the shoulder from Dick when you won a gold medal.

At ten, you delved into video games, hoping to bond with Tim. You spent four days learning all the rules and knowledge about the game, and two whole weeks mastering it. But when you finally mustered the courage to ask Tim to play with you, he stared at you with bored eyes, barely registering your presence. After twelve minutes of rambling about the game, he sighed, pinched his eyes, and said, "I can't. I'm busy, okay?" before leaving your small room. The video game stayed in a box, forgotten and dirty, for thirteen years, a testament to the same treatment you received over and over.

You took every opportunity, every chance to learn something they were talented in, hoping to catch a glimpse of love in their eyes. But all you got were bored, empty stares. Every hobby you had was dedicated to them, except for one: ballet. The art of dancing, with its sharp and strict moves, dancing on your tiptoes, chin up, and a graceful smile on your face. Nothing could take this away from you, not even Cassandra, who was the apple of her family's eyes as she danced on stage. You loved dancing; it filled your heart with joy and bliss. You believed this was the one thing they could never take from you. That's what you thought.

Ballet demanded strict poise and discipline, watching every bite you took and every drink you swallowed. Your mother was a beautiful woman, enchanting enough to enthrall your father. Her eyes could charm thousands of men and bend their morals to her desire. She was like a siren, captivating men with her ethereal beauty. Your father was no different, dazzling people with his money, perfect white teeth, and undeniable allure. He made heads turn and people giggle at his mere presence. So why did you feel as if you were nothing like them? Created by a goddess and a god, yet you turned out to be so unsightly that your mother sneered and threw you out of her arms, forcing you into the embrace of an unknown man.

You panted lightly, staring at your features in the mirror. Why? Why? Why? Why are you like this? Why can't you feel beautiful? Why can't you be beautiful? Why can't you be a sight for sore eyes like the men and women around you? Their features blended so well with their faces, but you? You felt like a pig with makeup on. You saw beauty in everyone but never in yourself.

Your performance is in about a few more days and you haven't eaten anything healthy for the past 3 days, you're starved, you're pressured, and your family hasn't even answered your text in which you, inviting them to please come watch your performance. Dragging your body to walk home, Alfred unfortunately can't drive you home as he is too busy with work (helping your family with their nightly activities) you hiss as the cold wind blew against your fresh scars-the result of you scratching your face with your nails due to resentment for yourself because of the question in the back of your mind: “why can't you just be good enough?”

The harsh glare of your ballet dance teacher only added more pressure, intensifying the burden on your weak shoulders. You carried the lingering thought that your family didn't care about you and the nagging feeling that you would never be good enough for them. The performance was just a few days away, and you hadn't eaten anything healthy for the past three days. You were starved, pressured, and desperately longing for your family's support. Yet, your texts inviting them to watch your performance went unanswered.

Dragging your exhausted body home, you felt a deep sense of despair. Alfred, who usually drove you home, was too busy with work, assisting your family with their nightly activities. As you walked, the cold wind bit into your fresh scars, the result of scratching your face with your nails out of self-loathing. The question haunted you: "Why can't you just be good enough?"

Your footsteps echoed in the empty streets, each step a reminder of your solitude. The streetlights cast long shadows, mirroring the darkness that seemed to envelop your soul. You could hear the distant laughter of families and friends enjoying their evenings, a stark contrast to the silence that filled your life.

But even though you're killing me

Arriving home, you unlocked the door with trembling hands. The house was quiet, as it always was when you were alone. The once warm and inviting living room now felt cold and unwelcoming. You dropped your bag and collapsed onto the couch, burying your face in your hands. Tears streamed down your cheeks, a release of the pent-up frustration and sadness. Gasping for breath as you dragged your shivering legs to your cold, small bed room as you dropped your exhausted form to your squeaking bed, staining your pillows with your tears.

I need you like the air I breathe

In your heart, you still held onto a sliver of hope that your family would show up to your performance. You envisioned them in the audience, watching with pride as you executed every move with precision and grace. But reality was harsh, and you knew deep down that their absence would cut deeper than any physical wound. But you needed them. They were the salt to your wounds yet you still crave for their attention. It's not too late right?

Please.

You spent the next few days in a haze, practicing relentlessly for the upcoming performance. Every pirouette, every leap, and every graceful move was tainted by the thought of your family's indifference. You pushed your body to the limit, hoping that the pain would numb the emotional agony. Again, again, again– again y/n! You need to perfect this! This could be the chance for you to prove to them that you're worthy of their attention! That you belong in this family just as much as they do! You can't give up. Stop trembling. Stop acting so weak. If you don't stop acting like a child then maybe they'll eventually throw you out of the house too.

Please

The day of the performance arrived, and you stood backstage, nervously adjusting your costume. Your heart pounded in your chest as you peeked through the curtains, scanning the audience for familiar faces. But as the minutes ticked by, it became clear that your family was not coming. Your lips trembling, your brain can't fathom the idea of them not coming to this performance—of course you'd expect y/n to be unsurprised by this behavior but it's not fair! You worked so hard for this only for them to answer you with nothing but silence.

I need you more than me

You destroyed yourself for this; for them! You worked every bone in your body and stretched every limb of yours, starved yourself for days, just for them to dismiss your one request to just be there. You just wanted that family where they were all so supportive of you, they all loved and adored you. The worst part is they are just not to you. And you had to learn that the hard way.

I need you more than anything

Summoning every ounce of strength, you stepped onto the stage. The spotlight shone brightly, and for a moment, you felt a surge of confidence. The music began, and you moved with the grace and elegance you had practiced so hard to perfect. Each step was a testament to your dedication, a silent plea for recognition and love. Tears threatening to spill from your eyes as a feeling of pain and happiness surged through your chest.

As you danced, the audience watched in awe. To them, you were a vision of beauty and talent. But inside, you felt empty. Every jump, every turn, and every sway of your limb was dedicated to them. With trembling lips you swallow the lump in your throat and ignore the pain in your chest as you play your part of the performance. The applause at the end of your performance was hollow, a reminder that the ones you longed to impress were not there to see it. Backstage, you received praise from your fellow dancers and instructors, but it did little to lift your spirits. You longed for a simple word of encouragement, a sign that your family cared. Instead, you were met with silence. You smiled faintly at them thanking them and exchanging a few compliments here and there. At this moment you couldn't feel anything. You were numb from all the pain you have suffered from this family.

Please, please

That night, as you lay in bed, the weight of the day's events pressed heavily on your chest. You stared at the ceiling, your mind racing with thoughts of inadequacy. The question echoed once more: "Why can't you just be good enough?"

"Those days are over," you say to yourself as you pack your bags and place your belongings into boxes. You've grown, and after 13 years in the manor begging for scraps of their attention, you've realized that what you want will never become reality. It took you a whole decade and three more years to come to this realization. You shake your head softly and smile sadly. What were you thinking? Of course, they wouldn't care about you. Your normalcy and mediocrity never appealed to them, and you’ve decided those days are finally over. It was time to move out and discover what you were truly meant for.

"What was I made for?"

you ask yourself. This question feels so much better than constantly wondering, "Will they finally look at me?" You take a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air of your new home. You breathe in and out, closing your eyes for a moment. This was it. You had made it. Slowly, you open your eyes and look at the people surrounding you, those who truly cared for you and saw you through your scars of insecurity, your perfect little hobbies, and your flawed personality. To them, you weren't Y/n Wayne, child of a billionaire, nor Y/n L/n, child of a prostitute. You were just Y/n, who tried so hard, failed, but ultimately succeeded.

The manor has been noticeably quiet for the past few days. The silence weighting discomfort as if something was wrong–as if something was missing. It was surprisingly first noticed by none other than Richard Grayson himself. The first Robin of Batman, the irreplaceable side kick, the first son of Bruce Wayne, and the darling of the crowd whom everyone loves and adore. As he walked through the large halls of the home he grew up in, he felt something was out of place. Like something wasn't in place or rather something was missing. It took him some time to figure it out as the clock ticks

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

Aha! He's got it! It was because there wasn't any classic orchestral music playing through the thick walls of the manor. The soft music of pyotr tchaikovsky wasn't heard anywhere around the corners of the walls. That's strange. The sweet melody of violins and cellos wasn't found in any room at all. He didn't know why but it bugged him. He sighs as he disregards it, nevermind he said, must be Alfred playing his favorite old songs. He walks around the manor to look for his siblings and father and somehow stumbled upon this.. Unknown and empty small room. “wow this is.. Something” he muttered under his breath. He inspected the room and saw multiple trophies decorating the room. It was impressive how someone can achieve this many gold medals and such. His gaze traveled across the room and saw a box full of webs and dust, and got interested as he opened it to see an old video game and thought that it must have been Tim's before he decided to throw it away out of boredom. With no more much to do he slid through the doors and whistled his way out of the room, unaware of how many memories a person created in that very same room withering away.

Tim and Damian recognized the absence of humming and the pattern of footsteps that used to echo around the house from an unknown room. The silence made them uncomfortable. They had grown so accustomed to the faint noise that it had somehow brought them comfort. The melodic lullaby of humming painted a serene picture of paradise, lulling them easily to sleep—a struggle they had faced all their lives as vigilantes, or in Damian's case, as an assassin. Their heartbeats aligned with the rhythm of the faint noise.

For Tim, it was a sweet form of salvation from the demons that haunted his nights and kept him from a good night's sleep. For Damian, it was the comfort he never knew, a stark contrast to the heavy stare of his grandfather and the weight of expectations placed on his shoulders by his mother's watchful gaze.

Jason couldn't care less about what happens around that manor. He hated that place. It made him rethink all the moments he wished he could take back. Jason Todd is a hateful man but a good soldier. He destroys in order to protect. He kills in order to let another live. A morally gray person. In his eyes he was what Bruce wayne–Batman couldn't be. But even a man who goes out at night to protect needs a break. So when he came to the manor and went straight to the library and saw that the usual piled up classic books weren't to be seen at their usual spot he found it.. Unsettling per say. The books written by Jane Austen that were filled with marked pages, sticky notes, and annotations not found in the main table of the room were strange to him. He didn't even know who did it but it made him feel like he was home. The silly doodles and random words written on the sticky notes, careful not to dirty the book, made him chuckle every time he saw it; so where was it now?

Cassandra was into ballet. She grew up silenced, observing others, forever cautious. as to why she expresses herself through dancing: ballet. A moment where she can breathe and let go. Where she can freely pour her heart into dancing. Every point, every movement, she releases her unsaid emotions. She was raised that way. Except then she was thought to swallow her words and release her pent up emotions into bad things instead of gracefully dancing. She was completely in love with dancing. Whenever she went to collect her ballet shoes there's always an extra bandage, extra shoes played on the floor. She never knew why and she never questioned it. Just ignored it. But now she somehow froze at her spot to see nothing but her shoes and not next to the light pink ones that had a small bow to compliment its design. Ever so stunning; the person who wears it must have been the same kind of persona-wait.. Person? There's another one.. Oh.

Bruce Wayne was a busy man. By day, he handled his company, Wayne Enterprises. His days were filled with paperwork, meetings, and managing marketing strategies. But by night, he never slept. No, he donned the mantle of Batman, the prince of Gotham City, the guardian of Lady Gotham. He didn't have time for anything he deemed unworthy of his attention. He noticed every tiny mistake, be it at work or on the streets of Gotham. At work, he spotted grammatical errors and unstraightened lines of decorative mugs. As Batman, he detected the slightest hint of lies in a criminal's eyes. So, yes, he noticed that something—or rather, someone—from the manor was missing.

As dick whistled his way out of the room unable to find his family members, he decided to go to the batcave and have a little fun while being alone. He did all things he could think of. Look for more cases to solve, dig some stuff out criminal records, blah blah blah.. Then he decided to check the manor's CCTV.

As dick was checking the cctv's of the manor out of boredom, he managed to catch a glimpse of footage-about 2 weeks ago of a person..? Packing their bags and putting things from the manor into a box and leaving. It must be a thief! But that's impossible.. The manor has many securities that even a skilled assassin could not pass through the gates, it's impossible. Unless..

Dick took another glance at the footage and zoomed the screen and squinted his eyes. And for a second, his breath hitched and his heart pumped fast, his hand trembled and his eyes dilated..

It can't be.

You.. Y-..y/n? What were you doing? Where are you going? He bit his lips harshly as he watched the footage like a hawk. His hands came to fidget with his hair. Was that really you? You look so grown.. Several thoughts ran through his mind as he pondered on what you were doing. After a matter of time he somehow remembers. Oh yeah! Your contact number. His hands trembling, in a hurry he pressed your name in his phone and.. Shoot. His eyes widened at the several missed calls and texts from you. Not even a single response from him. Come to think of it, when was the last time he talked to you? Like, really talked to you? He quickly text you “heyy baby birdddd I miss you! Let's hang out right now!” while biting his thumb as he bounced his thighs up and down from anticipation. And then suddenly.. He remembers! The room! It was yours! Before he even knew it, he was quick on his feet and ran like a mad man towards your room. He panted slightly at the face of your door and harshly opened your room unaware of his strength. He went through every corner of your room. He explored every side of your room to find something-anything that can give him even a spoil of information about you. And that was when he found a tiny pink notebook. He chuckled softly, out of breath, hair messed up like a mad man but dick didn't care, no because he finally found your one and only diary! Filled with bows and pink glitters.. Hah..you were so cute. He went through your diary, invading your privacy and saw all of the things you've said. The way you praised him, the way you adored your family, your little adventures, your previous ballet performances (you did ballet? Wow, you're just so talented.. Oh his little bird.) he suddenly heard a high pitched ping! And scrambled to his phone as he expected a response from you but instead all he was met with was “y/n has blocked you”.

What..? Why? Didn't you want to spend time with your precious big brother? His blood shot eyes twitched and sweat ran down from his face. The suddenly a deep voice said:

“dick? What's going on here?”

Note: as promised! Here is the chapter yall asked forrr tell me what you guys think!

[bluetimeombre]

☽｡⋆ Learning to fly, starting to crawl

Over one hundred years ago, you lost your wings but the wound still hurts like it was only yesterday. When your brothers mate wants to learn to fly, he doesn’t hesitate in teaching her, right in front of you. And nobody can see the scars except the one you love…

[OMG I'M ALIVE!!!! I've had this sitting in my drafts for months but have only just got around to posting. Basically, I have too many hobbies but i'm in a writing mood again., very fitting to start with my boy AZRIEL, whom i love very much. I hope you enjoy. This is linked to my other Azriel fic but of course can be read alone. Not proof-read and yes, she lost her wings. It's becoming almost a thing but it makes for some good ass angst. ENJOY!!!!]

☽｡⋆

The inner circle all sat around the table, eating and chatting merrily. Rhysand sat at the head of the table, as was tradition, while his mate- Feyre- sat next to him, their hands entwined. They smiled at each other, as so in love they were. Cassian and Mor were joking around along with Amren and Elian listened politely. Every now and then, she glanced the shadow singers way to invite him into the conversation but there was no such luck.

Azriel only stared ahead of him, glaring at the empty space where you usually sat. He wasn’t at all surprised you hadn’t turned up, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t be angry about it.

For a few weeks now he’d noticed the shift in you. You snapped easily and often rolled your eyes at anything your brother- the high lord- had to say. He’d heard you pace your rooms at night and his shadows (that favoured you above all) had reported that many nights you went to Rita’s.

But your empty seat irked him. And it irked him that Rhys seemed to not care in the slightest.

Az was the first to be aware of your presence, the echo of the door opening alerting them all and your scent hit him in the face. He inhaled it- your lavender, your sweetness, tinted by the alcohol lingering.

Rhysand huffed and everyone seemed to notice the shift. ‘I apologize about this, Feyre darling.’

Just then, you and Nesta stumbled into the room, arms linked and laughing your heads off about something or other.

Azriel drank you in. Your cheeks were flushed, your dress creased as you struggled to stay up right. Gods, what had you done?

You pouted dramatically, throwing a hand on your hip. ‘Uh oh, Rhysands got his grumpy face on.’

‘Isn’t that his usual?’ Said Nesta, causing the two of you to laugh again.

Everyone watched the two of you.

‘Where have you been?’ Az asked, wanting to rush to you and support you, but Rhys seemed one breath away from snapping.

‘We’re trying to have a pleasant meal, don’t ruin it,��� he grumbled.

‘Yes sir!’ You saluted.

Rhys growled and Feyre took his hand, squeezing it tightly.

‘Something tells me we’re not wanted, y/n,’ Nesta said to her.

‘Alas, we do not want to be here,’ you said, stumbling your way past the table. Before you went, you gave Feyre a squeeze on the shoulder, leaning down to whisper to her. ‘Feyre darling.’

‘Enough!’ Rhys shot up, hands on the table.

You barley spared him a glance as you and Nesta went about your way. You tripped on a plant pot, stumbling and apologizing to the object.

Azriel got out his seat, ready to follow you to wherever. No matter if you wanted him or not.

‘Sit down, Azriel,’ said Rhysand, taking his seat again. He picked up his fork and smiled at his mate like nothing had happened. All the while, your scent got further away from him.

He looked between where you’d disappeared and his high lord. He settled down and promised he’d find out what had made you act so.

☽｡⋆

You woke with unbearable pain in your head the next day. And your back. Your head was granted with the amount you and Nesta had drank, seeking to out-do one another so much so you drank out most of Rita’s.

But your back, the pain was new. Almost as if it knew why you were so angry, so bitter and it sort to make it worse.

Your curtains were drawn but the wind blew them back, letting you glimpse the outside world you dreaded to be a part of.

Shadows curled up your bed, brushing your hair back affectionately. They seemed to always be around you, as if they knew the bond that heaved in your chest even if their master didn’t.

You offered them a poor smile. ‘I’m fine.’ But they caressed you and smelt your lie.

From beyond the curtains, you caught a glimpse of figures in the sky. You’d always loved your room for the view it granted, of the sun, the moon, the stars. But after losing your wings, the view turned cold and the sky never seemed as bright.

It only got worse.

Though you knew the pain it would bring you to see, you wrapped a blanket around you and treaded over to the window.

Feyre was trying out her new wings, the black gifts she’d been given. Once mortal, she now had everything you wanted. The power, the wings. Your freedom was now hers.

And you hated it.

Azriel was looking close to her, encouraging her as she went. Though they were small figures to you, you could see his smile, how he held his hands out to her should she lose confidence.

How many times had you flown side by side, acting like the clouds abided you. The times you’d raced or dropped just to have Azriel catch you.

Never again.

The bitterness invaded your mouth again, blocking out all other logical senses.

Your door burst open- the shadows rushing to your side and curling around your shoulders. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was, the anger radiating from him was enough.

‘How dare you turn up in the state you did last night,’ snapped Rhys. You didn’t turn to face him, shielding yourself from his fury. ‘You had no right to ruin a lovely evening. We are trying to make Feyre and her sisters feel welcomed, its a shame my own sister can’t seem to do that for me.’

The words twisted in your gut. For him… had you not done everything for him? Lost your wings because you wouldn’t give in? Lost fifty years of your life to be with him?

‘Get over whatever it is going on and only return to us when you want to act like a decent human being.’ Rhysand snapped before leaving again, slamming the door- causing her to flinch.

The shadows ran down your hair, your cheeks, your sides. Giving you any ghostly comfort they could. ‘I’m fine,’ you told them again, retreating further into your room.

The shadows followed you, but only half of them. The other half had returned to their master, clouding him and whispering in his ear.

Her wings. She misses her wings.

She hadn’t had to say it out loud, they knew her pain.

Azriel paused in the sky, alerting Feyre. She’d seen the shadows surround him in flourishes. She couldn’t understand they were reporting in on you, that Az needed you to have something there when he could not be.

‘What is it?’ She asked, beating her wings.

He stared at her then at the wings. He was filled with the longing to be with you, in the sky, playing. Your wings were beautiful, just because they were you. A beautiful part of you.

‘I need to speak with the high lord.’

☽｡⋆

‘Ask someone else to train Feyre to fly,’ said Azriel.

He’d insisted he needed to see the high lord on urgent matters that could not wait. He’d expected it to be of the war, but Azriel opened with the line.

Rhysand was sat behind his desk, looking up to Azriel with some amusement. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘Ask Cassian,’ he said, he didn’t need to repeat himself.

‘Feyre wanted you.’

‘I can’t do it anymore,’ he said, stating it all simply.

Rhysand waited, wondering if he’d be graced with an explanation, but it never came. ‘Might I ask why.’

‘Your sister.’

Rhys’s amusement turned to a deep scowl. ‘My sister has asked you to stop flying with Feyre?’

‘No. She hasn’t asked, she never would. But I can’t teach Feyre to fly anymore.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m confused- what does any of this have to do with y/n?’ He asked.

Azriels shadows wound tight around him, coating him like a second skin. He wanted to yell, and he never let his emotions get the better of him. Instead, he curled his hand into a fist and clenched his jaw. ‘Do you really not think that this is hurting her?’

‘After her behaviour the past couple days I think it’s her who’s doing the hurting,’ he said, picking a bit of invisible lint from his shoulder.

‘She lost her wings,’ said Azriel with barely contained annoyance. ‘She lost them. They were cut from her back and she was left to bleed out.’

‘I do remember that Azriel,’ said Rhys, closing his eyes at the words. ‘I was there when we found her.’

‘So do you not think that teaching your mate to fly doesn’t effect her?’

Rhysand looked at him. His eyes changed, the hue turning darker. No, he hadn’t thought that. You’d never let on to feeling anything for your wings or lack of them. But then again, even if you had, would you ever have gone to your brother.

Azriel took a measured step forward. ‘Do you not think it hurts her that you teach your mate to fly, the same mate that gasped in horror when she saw the scars on your sisters back? That you have us fly in front of the house where she can see? Did you even know that when she bathes y/n covers all the mirrors so she doesn’t have to get a glance at the scars.’

The high lord held up a hand. ‘I understand.’

‘No, you don’t. You could never know what it’s like, neither could I, or Cassian. She had a part of her ripped off and she has to live without it every day. But you’ve gifted Feyre them as if it’s nothing.’

‘Because my mate has the powers,’ argued Rhys. ‘If I could give y/n wings I would- in a heartbeat, I would.’

Azriel nodded. He knew that, he knew the relationship between you and Rhys was fractured at best, but he also knew that if anything or anyone hurt you, Az would kill them. ‘I don’t want to reach Feyre to fly because it hurts y/n.’

Rhys leaned back in his chair, studying him. ‘And you care about her?’

‘More than I can express.’ He would give her the wings from his back if he could. ‘And if something hurts her… it hurts me.’

Rhysand nodded. ‘I’ll take her flying from now on. We’ll do it in the mountains, to spare y/n from seeing it.’

Azriel bowed his head. ‘Thank you.’

Rhys nodded but averted his gaze. ‘Look after her, Azriel.’

‘I always have.’

☽｡⋆

Nesta had gone to Rita's, expecting you later but you'd already snuck down to the Wine cellar and picked out the finest to drown your sorrows alone in. You'd past Cassian on the way, the male worried about your shifting gaze and the way you held yourself but you brushed him off and carried on your way.

You hesitated outside your door, where shadows lurked. Yes, they liked you and yes they were often with you, but never guarding your door.

Then, you smelt it. Not wine but sweet cedar and moss. Az.

You didn't want this. Didn't want him to see you like this, in pain in your mind and back, in longing for the wind through your hair. You knew he'd noticed your behaviour, he was the spy master, you'd only hoped... only hoped he didn't care as much as he did.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door and braced yourself for shouting.

Azriel stood there, looking regal and beautiful. His back was too the balcony, the door open and wind rusting his wings and sheets. His hands were behind his back and his gaze was... soft? It wasn't dark with anger or clouded in annoyance.

It was just Az.

'Azriel,' you do your best to smile, clearing your throat. 'What are you doing? I thought you had flying with Feyre?' you were trying but you were also just you and you missed your wings.

'I'm teaching her anymore,' he said.

You chuckle. 'Is she that bad a student?'

'I'm sorry.'

You look up to him, taking out the cork of the wine. Rose filled your senses. 'For what?'

'That she flys when you don't,' he mentioned it simply, as if you'd already told him what was hurting you and he'd accepted it.

You hadn't said it. You wouldn't. You hated yourself enough for being weak, you didn't need him, perfect Azriel, caring Azriel, to see how horrid your jealousy had made you. 'I don't know what you mean.'

'y/n,' he steps close to you, taking the bottle from you. He drops it at his side but no smash is delivered. The shadows swallow it up. 'Why won't you talk, instead of drowning yourself in pain?'

'I'm not drowning myself in anything,' you deny, moving away from him to close the balcony door. The air drifting in and moving everything but you only mocked.

'You can't fly,' he said.

Your eyes squeezed shut in pain. 'Yes, I know, you don't have to remind me.'

His boots sounded close behind her and he took her shoulders. He didn't force her to turn around, he only held her gently and soothed his thumbs over the knots in her back. 'You can't fly and words don't exist to tell you how sorry I am. If I could i'd give you the own wings off me back-'

'Don't say that.' The only thing worse than your pain, was Azriel going through it all.

'I would and I mean it just to see you smile again, if only for a second. I'd be glad to give them up,' he whispered. Your shoulders slumped under his grasp and he sighed in relief, it was better than tensing up again. 'I miss you smiling. I miss you laughing. I miss you smiling at me. I'm sorry if teaching Feyre to fly has hurt you.'

'It wasn't you, Az,' you turn in his hold, never letting him feel like it was his fault. In doing that, you admitted to being bothered. 'I can't be who I was, because I don't know how. And I don't want to try to only fail.'

He listened, hands trailing down your arms to rub.

You gulp. 'And it's not just losing the wings, it's everything I lost with it. Freedom. I can't join you or Cas, or anyone when you take to the skies. How am I going to cope in battle? I can't run as fast as I can fly, I can't fight as well. I can't hit Cassian over the head when he's being an idiot, I can't-I can't wrap them around you when we hold each other, and it's painful to think of everything I've lost when I've gained nothing.'

He listened, tears watering his gaze. You had not lost any of that, not to him.

'And Feyre,' you pulled away, crossing your arms around each other and looking out the window. 'I don't hate her, I wish I could but I can't. But she's been Fae for five seconds and she has everything I've ever wanted. Wings. My brother loves her. She's happy. I hate it and I hate myself.'

Your confession weighed your gut but your chest rose in a deep breath. You couldn't see Azriel behind you in the reflection of the windows and you couldn't hear him.

He'd gone. Of course he'd left, you'd whined about what you'd lost when you were at least alive. You'd complained about the High Lady- treason in Rhysand's book.

No, you were all alone.

But you weren't.

Az crept behind you and slowly- so you could pull away- wrapped his arms around your shoulders. He pulled you into his chest and matched his breaths with yours. 'I won't insult you by saying I get it, because I could never. But that time, when I found you after you'd lost your wings, I thought i'd lost you and that-that is how I imagine your feelings. Because I stopped breathing and I didn't think happiness would ever be in the world again. And your blood, you bleeding out has been in my nightmares since. If my hands were to be stained with it, let them, because it was the last thing i'd ever have of you.'

You had no idea. He'd felt terrible yes and been there the weeks and months it took to heal but you'd been so full of pain and guilt you hadn't thought of how he fared. Your greatest friend... your lustful secret.

Your hands came up to hold his arms.

'You do not have to be who you were before,' he whispered, head resting on your shoulder. 'Become better. Become something more. As for training, you're the strongest woman I know and still the only person I'd trust with my life.'

A tear escaped you.

He nudged your chin with his nose. 'And you can still hit Cass as much as you like.'

You laugh through tears, holding onto Az like he was the last thing anchoring you to yourself.

His wings slowly inched over you. 'And I will hold you all day, every day till I die, and i'll keep you safe.' His wings closed around the two of you as yours used to do.

Neither of you realised how much you'd missed it, needed it, craved it until it happened.

You'd lost your wings, but you had never and would never lose him.

[sad-wet-cat-hannibal]

(Essay incoming so I'm adding a read more)

I think you've said some good stuff here, and I too get annoyed or even angered by people using the term in a way that I interpret as flippant; but I'd like to add that as someone who frequently described distressing books and films as "traumatising", it turned out that that word was rather apt - because my intense response was caused by my trauma being triggered by those very same things, too often in ways that felt like reliving it.

Here's the kicker. I didn't know I *had* any trauma. All I knew was that engaging with these works made me feel distressed and disturbed as if I were personally traumatised by these things. Like they were real. Like they damaged me. Just from reading them or seeing them. They'd haunt me for weeks, sometimes months, sometimes years. Sometimes they gave me weird symptoms I couldn't explain. So, naturally, I was hyper-avoidant as fuck.

That intense sensitivity and hyper-avoidance, combined with my ignorance to the fact that my psyche was not experiencing these things from an untraumatised position, meant I thought that "intensely distressing/traumatising" was just the normal effect these things had - except lots of other people seemed oblivious, and even delighted in the exact same works. Sometimes none more so than the kind of motherfuckers who actually like traumatising people.

So I figured, as incomprehensible as it seemed, everyone else had to be either too numbed out/oblivious/naïve to realise how awful this shit was, or were actually big fans of bad things happening in real life.

Because if to me it felt too real, capable of destroying my peace of mind for weeks, then surely to some extent that must be the same for everyone else, right? (Obviously not, but I was younger and working with what limited knowledge I had.) From that logic it's really easy to buy into censorship, into propaganda that claims that the symptoms of a society with a dysfunctional approach to life are often born of the media that echoes them, rather than the other way round. It's real to you. It's your only explanation. (You don't want to feel like this. You don't want anyone to feel like this. It's inhumane.)

What I'm trying to say is that not everyone knows they're traumatised. I think as many as those who do, do not. Perhaps far more. And for those people, the only time they are able to touch on the truth of their half-veiled iceberg is when they tell you that The Bridge to Terabithia "traumatised" them.

(I know it "did" me.)

Telling them they're exaggerating, and misusing language that doesn't apply to them runs the very real risk of making it harder for them to treat their feelings with the consideration and weight they deserve, and enabling them to begin the process of unraveling their denial and tending their wounds. It runs the risk of reinforcing the (potentially forgotten or minimised) messaging they may have already received, during and after the trauma, that it doesn't matter. They're exaggerating. They're making things up. Other people have trauma, other people have it so much worse, other people suffer - but not you. Your account of your experience is unbelievable. Silly. You will not be seen or heard or understood, not by anyone else, and not by yourself...

Yet. Hopefully one day. But I think it often takes other people being willing to shine a light on the pain, and say, "Yeah, it's real. It's caused by things. You aren't alone and you aren't exaggerating."

I think the flippant watering down of the word is potentially very unhelpful too, but there's a section of society who want to push the narrative that the vast majority of people speaking seriously and from a place of relevant psycho-education about their trauma are just special snowflakes jumping on a trend. Maybe I shouldn't, but I feel wary of adding fuel to their fire by trying to gatekeep trauma. I don't know what the solution to these two conflicting uses of the word is, or if it's even possible to create a solution that doesn't simultaneously police the traumatised out of expressing their pain the only way they currently know how. Which would set back the whole thing of trying to help people... We get enough trauma olympics ingrained into everyone as it is.

Oh yeah!! Just remembered, Gabor Mate said in either his book from 2024 or an interview about it that he considers everyone to be traumatised, the question is simply one of degree (if I'm remembering correctly). So from that it may in fact be possible to argue that books and films can traumatise people, although perhaps not necessarily to the extent we might associate with PTSD or CPTSD.

I'm wondering if, as a society who cares about vulnerable people, we could stop saying "traumatize" when we truly mean "upset"?

I am sick of hearing sad books or movies "traumatize" their readers. I simply do not believe that happens. A traumatic experience might be adjacent to books (I have vivid memories of books I was reading around certain experiences and even how the contents of those books affected my processing of the experiences). But it's not caused by the book. And, y'know. The weather is Christofascist Censorship Attempts outside.

Meanwhile from the other side I continue to be surprised at just how badly people fail to understand trauma and traumatic experiences in general. Watering down the term isn't helping. Find other hyperbole to express that The Bridge to Terebithia gutted you, chewed on your heartstrings, and made you cry your first pair of contact lenses right out of your preteen eyes.

[starscreamingg]

Okay I'm so sleep deprived so pardon whatever this is but something that's got me FUCKED up about ai generated pictures songs writing is that it just fucking kills the ability to analyse for me because there's no fucking INTENTION behind it. Like why was this decision made why were these colours used what does that say about the work NOTHING because a bunch of programming took work that DID have intent and theme and purposeful choices and turned it into SLOP. Like I COULD analyse this but it doesn't MEAN anything it's EMPTY I want to EXPLODEEE

[yourtypicalhuman09]

Beyond The Bat

(Neglected reader x Yandere batfam)

Chapter 1: In The Shadows

TW!!! Cursing !!Dark AU!!

Living in the Wayne manor isn't the sweet luxurious dream you'd think it'd be, reality is in fact much crueler. For as long as I could remember I had lived in this dreary mansion, but lived isn't the word I'd use. I was more trapped here if anything. My "family", if I could even call them that, are well respected people. They're highly skilled and talented people, someone like me could only dream to be like them. I tried so hard to get close to them, I really did try, but no matter what I did nothing worked. I did everything, gymnastics, martial arts, theater, art, music, coding, dance, volleyball, cheerleading, heck I was even in the honors society. Despite being an A+ student and a role model in high society they never once went to any of my recitals, games, or showcases. I went to galas all alone, I had to deal with the sneering faces and snide remarks of high class men and woman alone since I was 8. Not very safe for a child huh? I didn't think so either but my "father" doesn't seem to care.

Nevertheless, I have no choice in this matter and it's not like life here is unbearable. Sure I get beatings and tongue lashings every now and then, but for the most part everyone in the manor tends to forget me eventually and leave me alone. It's pretty isolating but I got used to it, after all I have duties to perform. I have my job as Student council president and I don't intend to slack off. I got that job with my own blood sweat and tears and I will not let all those sleepless nights go to waste. I don't have time to wallow in self pity I have countless of students looking up to me and counting on me to do my job.

"Young master, are you okay? You seem to be staring off into space."

I looked up to our old butler, his face jaded and littered with wrinkles that seemed to contort pathetically in worry. I knew better than to accept his pity. He seems to be a wise gentle man on the outside with his elegant wardrobe, worn old body, and soft spoken demeanor, but do not be fooled. In truth, Alfred Pennyworth was a foolish coward. This was the same man who abandoned his own daughter just like my idiot of a father. I gave him a chance, but nothing's been the same since the day he accidentally called me Julia. I was nothing but a stand in for him, someone to relieve his guilt with.

"I'm fine. Don't you have something better to do? I'm sure Bruce has some kind of task for you, no need to bother yourself with my problems"

"...Very well then...Take care of yourself young master."

He clearly had something more to say but he decided to do nothing and walk away. Like I said he's a coward. Still I'm not new to disappointment, whether it's the disappointment of missed birthdays or the way they all see me as the disappointment, it's nothing I haven't experienced before. I quickly packed up my things and headed to school. Sure riding to school on an old worn out bike isn't exactly ideal, but I have to deal with what I have. Although, I do have to take some back alleys to school since I don't want anyone seeing and starting a scandal. I can already see the blaring headlines, "Daughter of Gotham's richest man caught riding to school on a beat up bicycle!". What a bunch of nosy bastards.

"Good mornin' (Y/N)!"

I turned to face the sunny senior calling my name, his unadulterated joy making him stand out in the crowd of groggy gothamites.

"Good morning Cyrus."

My crisp responses never seems to deter the boy as he continues to walk beside me chattering endlessly.

"(Y/N) I got things you asked! It's super cool what you're doing for the school, I'm so happy I get to be apart of it! If you ever need help with anything please do ask me!"

I sighed, his joyful energy was contagious. I couldn't help but crack a smile. Though it quickly disappeared as I regained my composure, but obviously not fast enough since Cyrus' joy seems to only be growing.

"Ahhhhh (Y/N) just smiled! I made the student president smile! I'm so sigma"

Here he goes again with those weird words and that cocky grin. I sighed once again, I'm too tired for this.

"Yes thank you Cyrus get to class now, I'll pick up the things I asked for after school."

"Yes ma'am!"

I watched as he playfully saluted and ran to class almost bumping into several people along the way. I facepalmed, he was such a handful but strangely I don't really mind. It's probably the lack of sleep I'll make sure to go to bed early today, for now I have to get to class myself.

Author's note: Omg chapter one is finally out! This took me a lot longer than expected but I hope it's good I went through a tiny writer's block😅. I hope you guys like Cyrus I tried to make him a silly and sunny character but trust me he'll have lore and be a much deeper character. I also tried making (Y/N)'s backstory pretty vague since they're the narrator and I figured they wouldn't like talking about it, but their lore will be revealed more throughout future chapters. Anyways as always thank you all for reading and have a good day/night!

Credits to khaer for the dividers

@simpingpandas @rosalietodd013 @sirenetheblogger @cim0nnin @00hellohello00 @crazycaoticsimp @lovebug-apple @youdontknowshtaboutfk

[euphoria-looney]

Who Said Money Can't Buy You Happiness?

Yan! Batfam x Princess!Reader

Special

"Mother said be good, father said be nice. That was always their advice. So be nice, [name], good, [name]. Nice, good, good nice (tighter!). What's the good of being good if everyone is blind. Always leaving you behind." Prologue: Into the Woods.

(I needed the full thing in it)

Divider Creds: @selysie and @anitalenia

This plot was inspired by @niwaart and @mimiiiiiiiiisstuff

Life is not fair, and while the rich eat like pigs the poor people eat scraps and still are charged no matter if they can afford it or not.

As a princess, I understood that.

I am labeled as the defective princess, the Imperial Princess of Gotham, [name] Wayne.

While all my siblings were intelligent and had strength, talent, and power that upstaged most people, I had none of that, I wasn't smart, actually, I was a complete dunce. I had no strength to my name and was disgracefully unable to use my magic, but I knew I had some...

I had to. Right?

My talent, probably being an embarrassment to my family name.

My mother, she also glanced at me with disgust, she made sure if I wasn't able to do anything useful I'll at least have etiquette while being useless.

I admired my mother, she was beautiful, graceful, sharp, and always upheld her image.

She sneers at me when I mess up, which is all the time, but we don't talk about that.

Oh gosh, and my siblings they were all so amazing.

Barbara held the same personality as our mother, she rose the social class fast. Too bad she doesn't talk to me, I think she would be a great person to take an example from!

Stephanie and Cassandra tagged behind Barbara. They were like those cool trios in the books.

Yes, I read books, but they don't count since they are all novels.

Damian berates me on the fact that I'm nothing like them, but it just shows he cares, doesn't it?

Dick will he coaches Damian he's the #1 Knight of our kingdom and woman all over swoon over him, he talks to me... sometimes.

Duke, well he's a gentleman we don't talk but he's nice enough to greet me.

Jason, well like those novels he'd be titled the 'bad boy' and it does in fact charm lots and lots of ladies.

Tim, it impresses me every time at how smart he is. Maybe that's why we don't have many conversations because I'm not on his level.

And my father, well, it's okay. He's the emperor of course he's busy, I can't ask for attention that would be so childish!

It's of course upsetting when they all hang out without me, but they're just letting me have more time to myself to read! If you think about it they just care about me.

I remember we went to an event, and I was alone and no one talked to me, but it's fine, that's when I met the love of my life, he was like a prince charming, I bumped into him and he caught me before I hit the floor, I swear I fell right then.

Connor Kent.

Then I found out he was in fact a prince! And I got lucky and arranged a marriage with him, he didn't seem as static, but it's okay, arranged marriages usually don't last anyway...

I don't know what took over me, but when they found this orphaned girl one day, out of nowhere, they adopted her, and that's when my life changed.

Serena.

It wasn't fair how she was the apple of everyone's eyes.

She was also clumsy and dumb, she didn't know how to use magic, just like me, but there was a fine line between us. For one I know etiquette and for two, I'm of royal blood.

But instead of also disliking her they doted on her. I let it go until Connor also started being attracted to her. I was enraged.

But kept to myself. I started writing things I felt like doing those things to her. Then slowly I started doing said things. But they were harmless! Mostly...

I always ended up getting caught every single time though.

I still did them though, I don't know I just felt like it, and then I started having dreams of this weird world, about a girl.

Her name, was just like mine, [name] [last name], and she's so cool!

It started off showing what kind of woman she was, a CEO, doctor, lawyer, but mainly an entrepreneur, I didn't know a woman could be in those fields. Also, what are some of those things?

Then those dreams.

"What a bast-, I can't with this main character! Oh and don't even get me started on the family, who wrote this?! And a poly relationship for what? Just for her to focus on one guy? That's it I'm balding. The only character I like is [name] but sometimes I wish she would just stand up for herself!"

Yes, for I found out she was just like me she also liked reading novels.

Her reactions to them were also quite funny, then one day I don't know why but I prayed to the Gods that I wanted to be just like her.

"Go hang yourself! Shitty ahh characters. Go suck a titty."

Okay, not exactly like her.

Then it was the next morning and the maids took a while to finally get me ready, I couldn't stand their murmuring about how terrible I was compared to Serena.

I wanted to rip my hair out when I heard her name.

Then I made an idiotic choice again, I shoved her while on the staircase.

Then my world went black before I woke up startled with NEW MEMORIES.

I had become [name] [last name].

But for some reason, I was smart, I knew how to manage her jobs…

5 years later

It's been, what, 5 years?

[name] was right to be cocky she had every right to be, I feel bad now that I stole her life.

[name] wherever you are I wish you the best.

I wanted to write this to show that both girls will get happy endings, and I rushed this because idk.

Anyway, thanks cuties for the interaction with my last post!

And again with the last post please give me constructive criticism!

Taglist -

@kittzu @charlenexoxo1 @bat1212 @silverklaus @sillysealsies

[walkawaytall]

Okay, this has been ripping through TikTok and I do not think it's what people are saying it is. Now, I have no insider knowledge, but I have been cursed with an ability to often (though not always) be able to follow Trump's trains of thought even when he skips all around and clearly forgets to bridge the gap between subjects. I blame my ADHD-riddled brain, which does similar things if I don't make a concerted effort to rein it in. Anyway.

Some necessary background: Trump was president when the US secured the 2026 World Cup, and I believe also when we secured the 2028 Olympics. That's what he's talking about in this section. His full statement about this topic is below:

And in 2028, the Los Angeles Olympics will be one of the great sporting events and patriotic celebrations in history. I was with Gianni, the head of the Olympics. And because of the wildfires, they’re going to do a special, special job. They’re going to really do something very special for the Olympics. And the opposite, some people said, oh, maybe the Olympics can’t go there. It turned out just the opposite. They came to see me the other day and the committee. And it’s just the opposite. So the Olympics is great. And Johnny, for the others, you know, the World Cup. Johnny is the head of it. We had our top people, Wasserman. They all came in on the Olympics. And then I saw Johnny. And we got the World Cup, too. And you know, it’s only because they rigged the election that I’ll be your president representing you there. So I got both of them. I got the Olympics and I got the World Cup. And I said, you know, it’s too bad. One was in 2026 and the other was in 2028. And I said, I won’t be there. I won’t be your president. But then they rigged the election. And now we won. So I’m going to be your president for the Olympics and for the World Cup. So, Johnny, thank you for the World Cup. And everybody, thank you for the Olympics. We’re going to have a great time.

I understand that this is rambling and confusing, so I have attempted to translate it into a normal, linear statement below.

My translation: When Trump was president, he was involved in securing the United States as the location for the 2026 World Cup and the 2028 Olympics. He either thought or told some people that it was kind of a bummer that he wouldn't be president the years those events took place. The implication there is that he assumed he would win the 2020 election, thus disqualifying him from running for president again. But then the Democrats rigged the election, which meant he didn't do his second term in 2020, and now he's won the 2024 election, so he'll get to be president during the World Cup and the Olympics.

It is important to note that Trump uses a lot of "us" and "them" rhetoric to stir up his constituents, where "we/us" is him and his followers and "they/them" is anyone who opposes him. It's very 1930s Germany, but I can't think about that for too long or I end up in a panic spiral. Anyway, while he obviously uses "them" the normal way -- as a generic pronoun -- I would be very surprised to see him use it to refer to his own people, especially in this context. If he were brazenly bragging about fixing the election, I'd think he'd use we. (I'm not...like, a linguistics expert; this is just an observation. But his talking points depend on heavy repetition. That's why every opposing politician has a demeaning nickname that gets beaten to death, why "fake news" has become everyday language, why he's still talking about the 2020 election as being rigged, etc. This is just another chance to remind everyone in the room that they got cheated out of something in 2020, to really encourage more unrest.)

Also, whenever thinking about a conspiracy theory, it's helpful to consider two questions:

Who does it benefit?

Does the risk outweigh the reward?

In this case, a rigged election obviously would benefit Trump greatly. However, revealing it on a national stage wouldn't. Trump isn't stupid. He chooses to remain ignorant about some things, and refuses to depend on experts when he should, but when it comes to something like this, I don't see him bumbling into a conspiracy reveal. The risk is too great.

Because something you have to understand is that, while his most die-hard fans are in a personality cult of sorts and will bend over backward to excuse his every move, he has moderate voters. He has people who can't stand him as a person, but disliked Harris more and those people would likely be pretty pissed if they found out the election had been rigged.

Also, many of his die-hard fans believe they are in the majority in our country. I know this because I have been told this regularly on TikTok this week when I made some videos related to the inauguration. Trump tells people this all the time -- that his victory was a landslide (he got 49.9% of the votes in 2024, so that is a stretch), that he's a man of the people, etc. Many of these people believe that the 2020 election was rigged, but 2024 was won fair-and-square. And while I'm sure some would be fine if the 2024 election was rigged as long as the results worked in their favor, it's too much of a risk to potentially upset his followers. Especially since...what would the reward be here?

Like, I get it: Trump's very boastful about a lot of things. But this would not endear him to all of his voters, and even for those who were okay with it...it's possible some would think it was a great "beat them at their own game" sort of thing, but it doesn't really gain him much of anything.

So, I personally do not believe that he was admitting to rigging the election at a nationally publicized rally. I do agree that some of his statements earlier in the speech about Elon understanding voting computers was weird, but it also could have just been one of his tangents. Anyway, unless there is more evidence than this particular speech, I personally think it's just speculation (though I've wondered about it myself for months).

I saw a clip on Tiktok but when looking it up on the Google I found no major news organization talking about it. Edit: Someone told me I misconstrued what he ment so I'm just gonna let this sit here and yall can make up yalls own mind 🤷🏾‍♀️

[leilawanderingaround]

Having brainrot about Yandere Phainon again... I should go see my therapist.

"I will have to reject you, fair lady. For I already have someone waiting for me beyond this wall."

Phainon- the ever gentleman, kind hearted hero of Okhema has many suitors on his tail be it man or women but it is undeniable that he only has eyes for one person only.

This person is considered the biggest mystery of Okhema. They would occasionally catch Lord Phainon gaze ever so lovingly at a locket but would soon put it away after noticing he was being watched.

Even the Tribios were curious enough to ask him. The deliverer would only shyly chuckle, scratching his neck. "It is someone I left behind at Aedes Elysiae. I hope to reunite with her one day."

Hearing that they would pale and soon apologies. All people know that Aedes Elysiae was destroyed by the black tide. Its fate is left undiscovered to most people. Only a few people know what truly happened to Aedes Elysiae and the supposed beloved of the saviour of Amphoreus.

"Still mourning for her, deliverer?" While most of the time, Mydei would have knocked or raised his voice to announce his arrival. Today was quite different. To lock oneself in a room of the departed and forbid everyone else from going inside on the day of their death anniversary is quite rude. Especially when it's you.

The crown prince carefully picked the lock on the door before gently opening it to walk inside. Not wanting to affect anything that belonged to you.

"Mydei, sorry but I am not in the mood to banter with you today" Phainon said, still not turning from your bookshelf to face his friend-rival.

"Hm, not like I am here to fight you. Where is it?" Mydei shook his head. Now is clearly not the time for such a thing, even he knows that. "Her locket as well as her weapon. Aglaea told me you kept them, handed them over."

"Surely the crown prince of Kremnos would know better than to ask for something that is not his" Phainon still keeping that nonchalant attitude, turn around to smile at Mydei.

The crown prince has to stop himself from hitting the deliverer on the face. After all, they have promised Aglaea to not wrought havoc on a day such as this. "Well, it is not my kingdom that killed her."

"She is not dead" Of course that sentence alone was enough to anger Phainon.

Mydei let out a huff, crossing his arms "Right, right, as if being frozen in time, waiting for her death is any different than truly dying."

"Mydei, we have talked about this. Once the prophecy is completed, she can be rid of Oronyx's influence and return to Okhema. Let's not lose hope, my friend." Phainon said, lending an olive branch to the crown prince. A final act of putting down the flame of hate between the two.

"She does it all for you. Betray her god, sacrificing herself, and frozen Aedes Elysiae in time. To save your home, family and dear friend. I can only hope you return her as much as she has give, Phainon." Mydei said, reaching Phainon's side and took the bow near him- your weapon before walking out. "Priest of Oronyx, helping Kephale's soldier, how laughable"

Phainon watched as Mydei left the room, his hand held tight onto your locket "You don't have to worry. For her..."

"I'm willing to forsaken my tilte as the hero and burn Amphoreus down just to see her again..."

[whisperofwonder]

Wife Guy

The wife guys of Haikyuu

(The term does have some negative connotations but I don't mean it like that here. They're just some dudes who really love their wife. Cool? Cool.)

Featuring: Bokuto Koutarou, Iwaizumi Hajime, Sakusa Kiyoomi x wife!reader - ~300 words each

(if someone else needs to be here, tell me. I might write it.)

BOKUTO KOUTAROU

Come on. He's the ultimate unironic wife guy.

You, his wife, are the light of his life. He adores you. He doesn't shut up about you. Your friends and family know this, the Jackals definitely know this, even his fans know this because he can't resist posting about you even when the social media managers get on his case. The moment your name or the words "my wife" pass his lips, anyone within earshot knows that it's all over.

He never misses an opportunity to tell you how much he loves you. You need to know that, in his eyes, every little thing about you is perfect. Not only that, but he's a really touchy guy. He loves holding your hand, putting his arm around you, barraging you with kisses, any form of skin to skin contact with you. You and everyone around you have gotten used to the constant PDA over the years. He's just so pure and sweet about it that no one can even say a thing about it.

One of the things he loves about being a professional athlete is that it gives him the means to spoil you. Designer items, the latest tech, lush vacations, whatever it is that catches your eye, he's already got his credit card out. He's not trying to buy your love, he's showering you in his. No matter how often you insist that all you need to be happy is him, he can't resist a little treat every now and then.

The day you agreed to marry him was one of the best days of his life. Every time he takes notice of the ring on his finger, a little jolt of joy goes through him, even after all this time. The mere fact that he gets to spend the rest of his life loving you is simply unmatched.

IWAIZUMI HAJIME

There's a reason that Iwaizumi Hajime (27) Athletic Trainer is written as a knight in every single medieval AU. He's chivalrous, hard-working, and utterly devoted to his wife. He might be quieter about it, but his love for you is an undercurrent to everything. From the kiss pressed to your forehead when he gets up to start the day to the moment he pulls you against his chest in bed each night, there are a hundred little moments when he shows just how much you mean to him.

Most obvious to everyone around him is the small smile that comes across his face every single time he talks about you. "Oh, my wife picked it out." "Yeah, she did make this." "I'm taking her to dinner tonight, actually."

You will never walk closest to the street on his watch. Forgot your jacket? No you didn't, he tossed it in the back seat. When you're washing dishes after dinner, he's right there with the towel to dry. Craving ice cream at 10 pm? The corner store is only a few minutes walk for him, no it's no trouble, don't be ridiculous. It all just goes to show that he's constantly thinking of you - what you might need, what you might want, what might make you smile. If it's within his power, why wouldn't he do it for you? It's just inconceivable.

You make his life better. All he wants is to do the same for you. He might never say it out loud, but being married to you is the fairy tale life he hadn't dared to hope for. Spending every day by your side is enough to make him the happiest man in the world.

SAKUSA KIYOOMI

His wife is his person. The world is full of irritants, uncomfortable situations, people who rub him the wrong way. You are the one that soothes it all away. His safe space. Coming home to you every day feels like a weight sliding from his shoulders.

He took to the simple day-to-day of married life so well. Dating was never his scene. Truth be told, you've felt married long before he put a ring on your finger. Everyone says the pair of you are the token old married couple. He might scoff, but to him it's the best kind of compliment.

He takes real pride in the home you share together. It's a sacred place that deserves to be kept neat and clean and comfortable. No matter what kind of day he has, he'll always spend at least a little time making sure everything is running smoothly for you, keeping up with the small things that he knows make your life a little easier.

His favorite moments are the quiet ones you share together. When either of you has had a less than perfect day, it's an unspoken rule that you'll be spending the evening together, curled up in your own little world where nothing else matters. Nothing is more comforting to him than the feel of you in his arms, breathing in your familiar scent. Everything else simply melts away.

Marrying you was the easiest decision he's ever made. There was no alternative. In the course of his life, he knows that he's doing something right, because with you by his side, he knows he can face anything else that may come.

[arc-misadventures]

Jaune being his normal kind, helpful lovable self causes women like Illia, Terra, and others to fall for him

LAJA

Coco: And, welcome everyone to the first meeting of the, LAJA. Lesbians Against Jaune Arc. My name is, Coco Adel, club chairwoman, and founder.

Coco: Now, since this is out first meeting we will each introduce ourselves, and tell everyone why you decided to become a member of the, LAJA. I'll go first...

Coco: I am a loud, and proud lesbian, I saw some guys, and I thought they were attractive, from as aesthetic perspective not anything romantic, or sexual. But, one day, I was trying on an outfit with my BunBun...

Ilia: Hold up! Your 'BunBun?'

Coco: Oh yeah, that's a nickname for my teammate, Velvet. She's a rabbit faunas.

Ilia: Ohh!

Terra: I like that.

Coco: Velvet isn't that good at fashion, but Jaune was there, he saw my outfit, and said no. Gave me some other clothes, and told me top try it on... and son of a bitch that was the greatest outfit I've ever worn!

Coco: After that, the two of us would go out, and do some fashion shows with each other, and some other people who needed a new wardrobe. It is fun, really fun hanging out with him. So, one day when we're having fun this random woman came up, and ask if, Jaune was single. And, Jaune was single... but, I said he wasn't... that I was his girlfriend...

Coco: I'm a hardcore lesbian! I never thought of dating a guy in my entire life! But, to keep some random floozie from, Jaune I said I was his girlfriend... I don't want to lose my fashion friend, my best male friend. And, I'm sad that I'm not... And, I really... I really want to be his girlfriend... So... yeah...

Terra: You fell because of his fashion sense? Makes sense, Jaune has superb taste in woman's fashion.

Coco: He did, I was looking at a wedding dress one day, and who is at the alter, Jaune freaking Arc...

Yang: Oh you got it bad!

Coco: Okay... You're turn.

Ilia: Okay... Hello everyone, my name is Ilia Amitola, I am a chameleon faunas, I can changed the colour of my skin. So, I was a former member of the, White Fang, I was a lesbian since I was in the, White Fang, and I hated humans on top of that. Then this stupid blond human just shows up, he flashes me that pearly smile of his. And, my body just changed to pink!

Coco: Like it did just now?

Ilia: Yes?! I just looked at him, and I thought how much I wanted to sleep with this guy! A guy, a human guy at that! It's just a crush, there's nothing more about it! So, I decided to learn things about him, I'd learn that one thing to make him the worst person I could possibly imagine!

Ilia: And, what I learned is that he is one of the nicest, sweetest guys I've ever met! He doesn't hate the faunas! He supports the, White Fang! To a point! He doesn't like the more radical side...

Yang: No one does.

Ilia: But, all I learned how a sweet caring a person he is! Then I saw him watch over some faunas kid one day, and the next thing I know, I'm thinking about having kids with him! This it total bullshit!

Coco: She's still blushing.

Emerald: It is a nice shade of pink.

Terra: Well... speaking of babies... My name is, Terra Cotta Arc...

Coco: Arc? Are you related to, Jaune?

Terra: In a way, I am married to a woman called, Saphron Cotta Arc. She is, Jaune's older sister, making, Jaune my brother-in-law. And, for a while I thought I was asexual, I was never interested in anyone. But, then I met my wife, and well eventually I married her. And, I'm happily married! But, then I met, Jaune, and if I met him before I met my wife, we probably would be married with three kids by now. Right now we only have the one though.

Coco: T-The one...?

Terra: I wanted a kid, so I asked, Jaune to... donate so I could have one. And, this is my son, Adrian~!

Yang: Oh gods he is so adorable~!

Ilia: Noooo... Don't do this to me, I've been trying to get rid of the baby craze!

Terra: And, well... I want another... maybe two... N-Next...!

Yang: Okay... glad I'm not the only one... Ahem! Hi! My name is, Yang Xiao Long, and I'm not really a lesbian, I always thought I was more of a bisexual. I always thought, woman, and men were attractive. And, when I came here to, Beacon the lesbian drive kicked into overdrive! I mean come on! There are so many hot woman here!

Coco: It's a buffet here!

Yang: And, my teammate is, Blake Belladonna! How many people didn't get a aroused , and want to smash that phat ass!

Ilia: Preach sister!

Yang: But then, Jaune Arc came around, and started acting like a big brother figure to my little sister! He looked after her, he comforted her when she was sad, he made her cookies! That was my job! But, all of a sudden big bro came in and stole my job! And, that's were all hell let loose!

Yang: So, I confronted him one day to leave her alone, to stop being her 'big brother,' that it was my job to do those things, because I am her big sister. But, he told me not to worry, since I was her big sister, and i would always be her big sister. So, he told me not to worry 'little sister.' He calmed me, 'little sister' rubbed the top of my head, and left. And, I swear to gods... I came when he patted my head!

Coco: Seriously?!

Terra: I'd buy that.

Yang: I don't like people touching my hair, but he just patted once, and he sent me so over the edge that, that's what happened?! I want, no need him to do it again!

Yang: I want my big brother to hold me in his arms, to comfort me when I'm sad, to run his fingers through my hair to calm me. And, above all I want him to spank my ass as he calls me his bitch, while I scream big bro as he takes me from behind! I used to imagine doing that to, Blake, and her phat ass! Now, I want, Jaune to be doing that to me!

Coco: (Whistles~!) You got it bad girl.

Terra: Really bad... Now tell us how you want him to do this, I need to know.

Yang: You're turn, Emerald.

Emerald: Okay... My name is Emerald Sustari. I am a lesbian, least I was... honestly I think I'm not that much of a lesbian, I was interested in my team leader. Her name is, Cinder Fall. She took me in, when no one else would, so I kinda fell for her from an emotional stand point. But, Cinder never saw me from that angle... she's more focused on how she can use me for her own gains. This often made me cry, that she didn't care about me... Then one day, Jaune found me when I was crying, and we just started talking. He became a shoulder I could cry on, someone I could go to for support, or just someone I could be around when I needed something.

Emerald: Then... then his mother came by, and he introduced me to her... And, I understood why, Jaune was such a nice, and caring person. And, I asked, Jaune's mom. Juniper if she would adopt me, so I could finally have the mother figure I always wanted.

Yang: What did she say?

Emerald: She said no.

Terra: What?! But, Juniper is such a lovely woman, why did she say no?

Emerald: Because she knows how much I love, Jaune, and that if I married him she would still become my mom. So, I get the best of both worlds. A mom, and the man I love...

Terra: Oh...

Yang: Now that's a good deal right there...

Coco: Alright... now that everyone has been introduced, we shall now begin the first meeting with the, LAJA. Does anyone have an items they wish to bring to the table.

Ilia: Yeah, I have one... We're calling ourselves the, Lesbians Against, Jaune Arc. But, how are we against, Jaune? I mean... we all want to sleep with the guy... that doesn't sound so 'against' now does it?

Coco: Uhh... cause I thought everyone would be upset, Jaune turned us straight. So, we would be against him, because of that.

Ilia: That makes sense, but in reality... we want to fuck him...

Yang: Yeah, we all want to sleep with the guy to one degree, or the other.

Terra: So how are we against the guy?

Coco: It sounded nice...?

Emerald: I vote we rename ourselves to the, Lesbians Attracted to, Jaune Arc! Where are new mandate is to help each other sleep with, Jaune to some degree. All those in favour say aye.

Ilia: Aye!

Yang: Hell to the aye!

Terra: Aye~!

Coco: Aye!

Coco: Okay, in that case I welcome you to the first meeting of the, LAJA. Lesbians Attracted to, Jaune Arc. First order of business: Who gets to fuck, Jaune first.

Yang: I move, Terra goes last, she's already slept with him, and had his child.

Terra: What?!

Ilia: I agree.

Emerald: Agree.

Coco: The ayes have it; Terra only gets to sleep with, Jaune after the rest of us do.

Terra: ...

Terra: Okay, that's fair...

[zoieru]

thoughts about parts of hsr men's bodies, and how they react to your attention on them (mostly cute, not quite nsfw)

Just sum thots I wanted to get down n share, perchance with some like-minded individualss. I sort of yap when I write, not written in perfect grammar or prose. Maybe spoilers for 3.0. no gender, not nsfw, but suggestions splatted about ♡

Aventurine, Sunday, Phainon, Mydei

Aventurine

His hands, fingers, the whole lot. They're so dextrous and slender and nimble, probably from playfully flicking chips between his fingers as a taunt to those at the table. The way the chips twirl between them effortlessly has you often watching in a momentary trance. You sort of chide yourself internally when your thoughts start to drift at how they move, how *able* they are, and the implications of such...

You know he pays a lot of attention to his appearance, so his nails are always seemingly perfect, softly rounded at the edges, clean. It's to an extent that seems kind of impossible, as you find yourself captivated by them when you play with his fingers as you sit together. They're just...pretty. "You got a thing for hands, or is it just me?" He teases, a little smirk tickling the edge of his lips as his eyes glint with that familiar spark of mischief. He's always playing it off, of course, but he can't deny the little flutter he feels in his chest when you kinda admire him like that. There's something different about the way you do it, makes him feel special and wanted. Which the boy deserves in bounds.

Plus he looooves touching you with them. He's just a sort of handsy person, but in a cheeky-reverent kind of way, especially once he notices your attention on them. He'll fiddle purposefully, that frustrating smirk on his mouth, he'll run his fingers over your skin gently, pinching and squeezing here and there, and trace your bottom lip with his thumb when he's got you a bit flustered.

Sunday

For Sunday my first thought was his head-wings, of course, but that would be boring since everyone talks about the way the lil things flutter and fluff up, so we're going for his hair.

Now, Sunday obviously paid attention to his appearance as the Bronze Melodia, and all of his positions. He had to look the part, after all, and his tendency for control seeped into this aspect of his life too. But I like to think he never really saw his hair as anything but a sort of tool, something on him to be viewed and consumed by other people, just as a lot of his life was. (Thinking about Sunday makes me so sad aaa). He looked after it, liked it, but didn't see the utility or pleasure of it outside of that use much.

But when he fell with broken wings, and ended up in the strangely soft and uncomfy-comfy laps of the astral express crew, and others, like you, he, along with other things, started to realise the pleasure and softness that could come from his hair. For instance, along with his wings, if you touch his hair, he's a goner. He's just so...sensitive, and it sends little shivers down his whole body, to where he's almost made docile and incoherent. His brain short circuits a little and he becomes like when you touch a shark on that part of their body where they just become all floppy.

He doesn't even have the energy to be self conscious about it much when you're lacing your fingers through the grey strands, and if he does he'll blush a bit, cutely, and avert his eyes almost grumpily as he just shifts in your lap so his face doesn't have to meet your gaze. Plus, he finds it's one of the only time his yappy brain quiets a little, the sensations like a soothing silk wrapping around the thoughts and making them a bit less intrusive. Basically he's cute as hell, it hurts my soul.

Phainon

Okay, so, I'm gonna go with the expected here but HEAR ME OUT. His eyes are so expressive, even ignoring how intensely blue they are to the point it feels as though a droplet of the sky had just plopped into their depths one day and decided to take up residence hello Satoru ♡.

They're always moving slightly, narrowing a touch when thinking along with that slight pout of his mouth, widening with a gentle spark when he gets an idea or sees something he finds cool (imagine him like...seeing a stupid meme and showing mydei, and mydei just like -_-). When his face lights up, eyes catching that spark of excitement, it's just so sweet and beautiful. You find yourself desperate to keep seeing that light flicker in his eyes, finding things that make him light up.

Then there's when they soften. Usually when he's looking at you. Or mydei stop. He'll be talking or into something and then turn to look at you half way through, his eyes instantly softening ever so slightly. It's enough to make your heart flutter, just that. It's pathetic really, but that's what this puppy will do to you.

If you ever comment on them he'll chuckle a little, maybe bring his hand to his nape, the classic, looking around like 'really? hehe'. He takes the compliment and thinks about it a bit during the day at intervals, feeling warmer inside.

ALSO WHEN HE TILTS HIS HEAD SUBTLY WHEN CONFUSED LIKE A PUPPY OKAY BYE

Mydei

Mydei is hard because (get your mind out of the gutter) I feel like he would be so enthralled and slightly confused by all of your touch, since he hasn't felt much soft and tender affection in his whole damn life. So let's go with his skin, namely, tracing soft and idle patterns on it, anywhere really.

I'm picturing it starting with like...you just idly drawing circles or swirls on his arm or hand while you're relaxing, maybe before sleeping, just at some point. It didn't even really cross your mind that you were doing it, it was just natural. But this man had his eyes locked onto your fingers as they moved, eyeing the movements and taking note of the sensations almost with suspicion, like -what the hell is this and why do I like it-. Basically bro is shook, it's cute.

You'll catch him staring and be like ?? And he'll get a touch embarrassed, try to play it off a bit, grunt and look away a little, but after a bit he'll admit it feels kinda nice and you couldddd do it more if you wanted to. He wouldn't mind. Yknow. And he'll end up enjoying it a lot, anywhere you do it, letting you trace his skin more purposefully, the muscles rippling underneath it, his tattoos. He finds his muscles relax under your touch as if you're weaving some of Aglaea's golden thread over them, soothing them more than he's really felt before. And he'll give you a bit of a grumpy cat face when you stop, like...excuse me what? Keep going???

Anyway kinda thinking about doing more now but like, their reactions to each of these things individually, like playing with their hair or hands. Brainrot. Anyway make sure u ate something today or I'll haunt your dreams bye.

[chocobje]

How I like to characterize Sprout is that he’s great talking with the ones he’s close with (Cosmo, Astro, etc.) But incredibly socially awkward with others. He comes off as brash, but he’s trying his best.

What guidelines do you try to follow when writing Sprout? I’m just curious.

Thanks for giving me the opportunity to yap about one of my favourite characters hehe..

You asked for guidelines I gave you a character analysis instead.

(Don't mind the images I didn't want this post to look naked)

ALSO NOTE THAT AT THE END OF THE DAY THIS IS MERELY MY INTERPRETATION OF HIS CHARACTER. EVERYONE HAS THEIR OWN!! Don't take my post as a mandatory guide to follow.

Let's talk about what's canon:

I like checking the Wikipedia for his dialogues every now and then to make sure he's not too out-of-character.

Sprout comes off as blunt, he does not sugarcoat his words when he has something to say.

Not even an excuse or a reason as to why he doesn't want to join Teagan for tea; It was straight up a "no" until Teagan told him Cosmo will join them too. (Also I want to point out he doesn't immediately say yes when he's told Cosmo will be there, so for all we know he'd still decline even if his best friend's joining Teagan).

Dandy's dialogue when you purchase Sprout. I think about it a lot. Out of all the character dialogues, the one with Astro is what I feel like is an example of his overprotectiveness coming across as "pushy".

He'd definitely be the type to scold his friends. Especially after Gardenview's shutdown with all the Twisteds wreaking havoc and whatnot. I don't think Sprout is fond of going on runs, but only does so he can watch over everyone and keep them safe. He makes sure everyone is focused and on high alert, he doesn't want anyone to be reckless.

He prioritizes safety over answers. His dialogue with Rodger shows that. Maybe he's also curious as to what has happened, because in Vee's dialogue he tried talking to Dandy only for Dandy to walk away. I assume Sprout just wanted to check up on him rather than knowing what's going on with Gardenview and the Twisteds.

Another thing I don't really see often is how Sprout is actually pretty forgetful and impulsive.

For a Toon who's constantly keeping watch on everyone he surely does not apply the same kind of attention to himself.

He talks before thinking about his words, but once he realized that he immediately apologized to Vee. I don't think he always notices when he comes across as rude though.

I actually think he's actually quite reckless when he bakes. I obviously can't show it in this post but if you look at that animation with Cosmo and Sprout baking they're not even measuring the ingredients. I mean what. 😭

The way he bakes feels so impulsive and it just looked like they were winging it. Somehow despite that their baked goods still end up great and that's honestly impressive.

Okay now for that dialogue between Bobette and Sprout, I was getting there-- I've never made a gingerbread house but from what I've seen from other people it requires a lot more patience and carefulness.

Sprout is neither.

According to him, his gingerbread house fell apart immediately and then he stopped trying afterwards. It's honestly funny.

I feel like this also shows through his stats. Both his extraction speed and skillcheck is 2 stars. His stamina and speed is way higher. He prefers running around, probably to make sure he can watch over everyone during their runs. That or because he has long legs.

Anyway to recap; Sprout in canon is blunt, pushy, overprotective, and impulsive. But he genuinely has good intentions and means well. He cares for his friends, which is why he scolds them because he wants to make sure they're safe.

Now for some headcanons:

Okay this is the part where I make stuff up. So it's just my take;

• He has ADHD.

I'M STARTING WITH THE NEURODIVERGENT HEADCANON.

This is not a unique headcanon. I've seen so many people who headcanons this too so it's relatively popular. Personally, I only see him with ADHD. (I'm projecting).

He's forgetful, impulsive, and quite socially awkward in a way aswell. He's easily distracted. He keeps forgetting about the oven. He's impulsive when baking. I'm a very impulsive and reckless person myself, I constantly make mistakes when I draw, yet somehow they end up okay 😭. When I'm not able to draw something right, I give up immediately. (I projected this onto the gingerbread house thing earlier).

• He comes across as intimidating.

You know in Kids' birthday parties when there's a mascot a lotta kids go run and hide? I based it off of that. I remember when I was like, 6 or 7, when a mascot came in I cried and hid under a table. They were tall.. <\3

I feel like there was a concerning number of kids who were actually afraid of him, despite how friendly he appears both in person and in the show. Maybe it's the RBF when he's not smiling..

I also like to think he's taller than some of the kids who comes to Gardenview which plays a factor to the whole "intimidating" thing. The way Sprout deals with this is giving the kids cupcakes or other sweets. Once the kids actually talk to him they're immediately comfortable.

• He was one of the very first to become "Twisted".

I don't have a concrete idea on how the story of the game goes, but I always imagine the Mains being the first victims. Sprout is a healer and he keeps an eye on everyone, so he had to go first.

–

Okay, I think that's all now. If you read all of that wow thanks, this took me hours to write 😭. I love overanalysing characters.

[nanenna]

Warning: Bodily mutilation, body horror, vivisection, medical torture, scientific torture, suicidal ideation, dead dove do not eat. (Does this count as body horror? I'm a little shaky on what exactly that means. And the suicidal ideation is only just hinted at.)

Hey! I just found out I can customize some emojis. Not sure if that's just a chrome thing (I know, but eh) or what. Check this out!

👨‍👨🏻‍👧🏻‍👦🏻

-----

Thankfully there were others to keep Danny distracted while Kon sat out in the dirt, quietly explaining everything to Clark. Even more thankfully Clark had the good sense to just sit there with him and listen, let Kon explain everything in his own piecemeal way, then just sit there in silence because there really wasn’t any comfort to give. Danny needed help, they were already working on a way to get it to him, the only thing to do right now was to just… help distract him from the horrors his mind was already distancing itself from.

The next day, when Diana and Constantine showed up with all his supernatural supplies, Kon had a chance to explain to them what he’d discovered the night before. This time much more coherently than he’d managed to Clark. He’d helped move what little furniture was in the room out of the way, then left them to it.

He didn’t see Danny that evening.

Kon was a little worried, Danny’s appearances had only been getting more often, not less. But it was also still spotty, so he wasn’t going to worry about it yet.

“Guess three days in a row is a bit much,” Constantine said, about to flick away his spent cigarette when Kon held out an empty tin can.

“Perhaps it is a sign that his captors give him some rest after such… drastic measures,” Diana theorized.

That didn’t make Kon feel any better, if Danny was only here when he was at his worst and his appearances were happening more often… Kon didn’t want to think about it. Still, they couldn’t do anything until Danny showed up again.

When Danny didn't show up the next day either he really started to worry. What if he was showing up somewhere else? What if he never showed up again? What if that was the last time Kon ever saw Danny and he'll never know why?

It was such a relief when he did spot Danny the day after that, that Kon nearly collapsed. Danny was laid out in the grass of a meadow just past the property line, looking up into the sky like he was stargazing. Kon looked up to see clouds slowly meandering across the sky like a small herd of sheep. Kon quickly let the others know before floating down to greet Danny.

“Cloud watching?”

“That one's shaped like a train.” Danny pointed up.

Kon tilted his head and squinted, “I guess I can kinda see it.”

Kon lay in the grass next to Danny, the two taking turns as they pointed out various shapes in the clouds. The late afternoon light was already fading, it wouldn't be long before the sun set.

Tim let him know they'd all arrived.

Kon stood up and brushed down his pants. “Wanna come inside? Ma and Pa missed you.”

Danny gave one of his indulgent smiles. “Sure.”

Together they went back to the house, finding everyone in their full gear. Kon started making introductions. “These are my friends! This is Bart, also known as Impulse.”

Danny seemed slightly confused, “The way I'm also Phantom?”

Kon looked to his friends, who all just looked back. “Yeah, the way you're also Phantom.” So Danny was also a hero, did that mean he had powers? Was this his arch nemesis?

“I'm Red Robin, you can just call me Red for short.”

Danny scoffed, amused, “I already call Red Huntress that, bird boy.”

Tim just laughed. Everyone else went around, introducing themselves. Danny wrinkled his nose at Constantine, but didn't comment.

Then the whole group went upstairs to the spare room where Constantine's circles and supplies had been left. “... to track you down we're just gonna need you to stand in this circle,” Constantine was saying.

Danny stopped and turned to give a mildly accusatory look to Kon. “Nocturn, I don't appreciate this.”

“What?” Kon asked, confused.

“Making a bunch of comic book super heroes to come rescue me. Trying to give me hope. I don't need it, I don't want it.”

Kon had no idea how to respond to that.

Danny's form flickered as his voice rose. “No one's coming for me. I heard the gunshots, I know my family's dead. Sam and Tucker would've come for me by now if they could, so either they can't or they tried and died too. Same for Dani, Dan, and Vlad, but they were probably captured. I know Dani was, she was with us when… when I…” Tears were streaming down Danny’s face only to leave frozen tracks.

“Danny, Danny I'm not Nocturn. I don't know who those people are or what happened to you.”

“Bullshit, I know I'm dreaming.”

“You are,” Kon agreed. “But I'm not, the rest of us aren't. You're Astral projecting right now.”

“Outta the way, ya git.” Constantine shoved Kon out of the way, and Kon obligingly moved, glad one of the adultier adults was taking over. “He's not Nocturn, yeah, none of us are. But Nocturn set up this dream for you, right? A fun, safe little place where you can do whatever you want. Even if it's not real, don't you wanna rescue your friends?”

Danny sniffled, “Not even Vlad deserves this.”

“Not even Vlad deserves this,” Constantine agreed solemnly. “If we're rescuing more people, guess we'll need more help.” He gave the rest of them a firm look.

“Clark, Kara, we need more hands,” Kon said.

Diana was tapping away at her comm.

Clark and Kara arrived quickly, already in their full costumes. Kon stepped out to go change out of his cities. By the time he got back Captain Marvel and Zatanna Zatara had also arrived.

“Alright,” Constantine said, “this spell should take us right to Danny, but after that we're gonna need to search the rest of wherever for any other uh… people who need rescuing.”

Kon couldn't blame him, no one liked being called a victim.

“Now Danny, if you could just stand in this circle…” 

Danny huffed, but did as he was asked. Constantine lit some candles that had already been placed around the circle then mumbled out some kind of chant.

A magic portal opened in the center of the circle attached to Danny's.

“Alright, everyone through.” Constantine led the way, walking confidently into the portal. Everyone else filed through.

Kon stayed behind. “You don't have to come if you don't want to.”

Danny looked confused, “Isn't this whole thing supposed to be for me?”

“Kinda.” Kon had an epiphany. “You sure this isn't a shared dream?”

Danny frowned in thought, “Sam and I had the same dream when he was trying to take over the world, wouldn't it have been easier to put us in the same dream if he could?”

“If he was trying to take over the world, it's better to not have you two wake each other up, right? He kept you separate so he could tweak the dream. Here we can distract each other.”

Danny nodded as his face smoothed out to nothingness. “Yeah, that makes sense. This is a shared dream.”

“Go on down and hang out with Ma and Pa, I'm gonna go play out my big hero fantasy for a bit.”

Danny smirked, “Okay. Have fun storming the castle!” He turned and started floating away.

Kon went through the portal. On the other side the room he found himself in was quite cramped despite only having Tim, Clark, and a few scientists being tied up in the corner. A good portion of the room was taken up by a large, steel table. And the tiny person laying on it, Diana leaned over and removing something from his head.

Kon was going to be sick.

It was Danny, he had to be. His hair was dark and shorn close to the scalp, like they couldn't be bothered with taking care of it. His chest was splayed open. His face was splayed open! He was also missing all of his limbs: right arm just below the shoulder, left at the elbow, both legs shortly below his body, just far enough for a tourniquet. The edges seemed to be rotting, except for the right arm, which looked raw and freshly cut.

“Kon, go help look for the others,” Diana said softly as she started gently trying to put Danny’s face back together.

Kon did as she ordered, following the trail of destruction the others were already leaving. A few rooms down and he found Marvel in an identical room leaning over a nearly identical Danny, gently pulling the skin back over this Danny’s beating heart.

Clark had joined him, gently pulling him from the room's doorway. “Red will be here soon to look him over, he's helping Diana with Danny right now. Let's go check on the others.”

Kon swallowed. “Right.”

He let himself be guided away. There was the sound of fighting nearby, they hurried to join in. What were clearly agents in all white business suits wielding shiny silver guns clearly weren't prepared for Kryptonians and Amazons were quickly being tied up.

“You ecto scum are going to pay for this!”

“You're daft if you think we're ecto whatever, your little toys didn't even scratch us,” Constantine said from the sidelines.

“I found another,” Bart called from a couple doors down.

Kon took a deep breath.

“You don't have to look,” Clark said.

“I know.” Kon went up to the doorway and looked in to find Bart gently taking something off another Danny’s head. This time he finally got a good look while it was on, some kind of strap that went under the chin and over the top of the head.

A muzzle.

A simple muzzle that kept the mouth closed while these absolute maniacs flayed these children's faces open.

“I used to have nightmares about stuff like this,” Clark said from just behind Kon. “That someone would find out I was an alien and take me away to some facility to cut me open and figure out how I work. And it would all be legal because I wasn't human.”

Kon finally turned to look at Clark. “You think that's what this is?”

“John said Danny probably isn't human, right? That not everything from Earth is human.”

Kon just nodded. Danny and his family(?) were probably fairies or something.

“Kal,” Kara called.

“C'mon, let's go help put an end to this nightmare.”

“Yeah,” Kon said and followed Clark.

DP x DC Prompt/Plotbunny #6

After days? weeks? months? years? in this mercy-forsaken lab, Danny finds himself slipping; his core straining under the weight of what he's been subjected to. In a last ditch effort to save his fracturing soul, his brain simply stops processing the pain and allows his mind to escape into a waking dream.

Danny knows it's a dream. If he thinks about it; he can still hear, see, feel the scientists at work. He doesn't think about it; instead embraces whatever false world his mind decides to concoct for him.

.

Several states away, a young boy opens his eyes to the inside of a strange pod in an abandoned lab. Though he cannot see it yet, a strange metal tag dangles from his ear, stamped on one side with the word 'CADMUS' and on the other with 'R-13'.

[insomniadreamzz]

Hey I'm absolutely obsessed with your series about the reader having Jinx's child. I would like to ask if you could write a scenario where Jinx arrives at the hideout and the reader is breastfeeding the baby and Isha is laying down with her head resting on the reader's shoulder looking intently at the small figure in the reader's lap, something like Jinx joining them and after putting Isha and the baby to sleep they finally have some alone time and they have romantic but intense sex? Thanks♥️

For more context please read the previous part „Our Family“

———

Our family part 2

G!P Jinx x Fem!Reader

Mentions of smut, G!P, fluff

It was already in the evening, Jinx was the whole day out of her hideout to do some work together with Sevika. You hated it when she was away, knowing it can be really dangerous out there especially when they had to go to Piltover and do some business there.

However, you spend the whole day taking care of Isha and your daughter Powder. playing with Isha while the little one was asleep and right now you were sitting on the couch, feeding your little one while Isha was laying with her head on your shoulder, seeming to feel tired now after a whole day of playing with you when you had the time to. Isha eyed her little sister all the time, she was happy to be a big sister and soon having someone to play with. It was exhausting but you loved your life.

Jinx finally arrived back home at her hideout, immediately smiling when she saw the three of you together, approaching you before placing a kiss on your lips and one on Isha’s temple. „Hey my loves, how was your day?“ She asked before sitting down next to you. „It was…very eventful.“ You chuckled. „How was yours? Did you have success?“ You asked in return, making her nod in response. „Yeah everything went just like planned. I am happy to be back to my family though.“ She mentioned, looking down at the smallest one here with a bright smile. „You three are the reason why I am more careful now and don’t try to bomb myself anymore when I get into serious trouble.“ Jinx said with a little laugh but you knew in fact it wasn’t funny at all.

Every time Jinx was close to lose she wanted to bomb herself and the enemy but that’s not happening anymore. She had a reason now to stay alive and it was you and the kids. A lot of things have changed in her life ever since she met you and you could say she was happy for once in her life. „I think little Powder is done now.“ You said, making the blue haired woman nod, watching you picking up the baby and pat her back gently. „It’s still weird hearing my real name but I gave it a better meaning. Powder is our daughter now and not my old self who…jinxed everything…“ You notice her voice getting softer, making you frown a little bit. „I know Jinxy. Don’t think about your past anymore, focus on the present. The Powder you were isn’t existing now. You’re Jinx and Powder is our little beautiful girl.“ You tried to light her mood up a little and you succeeded, Jinx smiled at your words. „Yes.“ She agreed with you and Isha crawled over to Jinx, hugging her tightly as a little yawn left her.

„Someone looks tired huh? Let’s get you to sleep.“ Jinx mentioned, Isha nodding while rubbing her eyes. You were busy rocking the baby to sleep while Jinx put Isha into bed. The past weeks you and Jinx made sure to make the hideoud ‚baby proof‘ putting up walls on the edges of the giant fan so none of the two girls would ever fall. Especially when Powder will start crawling one day. Better be prepared sooner than later. You even managed to create rooms in there so everyone had their little privacy. Everything was just perfect now.

Powder was finally asleep as well and you made sure to carefully and quietly put her into her baby bed, pulling the blanket over the little figure with a bright smile.

Once both kids were in bed sleeping, you and Jinx finally had their alone time. You both being in your bedroom as you got ready for bed but there was something on Jinx’s mind, you could clearly tell. „Is everything okay my love?“ You asked as you undid her braids, feeling there was something off. „I am good don’t worry. I am very happy and still I can’t figure out how I deserved this…how I deserved you, Isha and Powder. You can’t imagine how happy that makes me, having a family…“ You heard her voice crack in the end of her sentence, she was crying but this time out of happiness which made your eyes tear up as well. „You make me the happiest too.“ You said as you hugged her from behind, now nuzzling into her open, soft blue hair, inhaling her scent. You loved your girlfriend so much it was hard to describe it sometimes.

Jinx shifted, moving a little bit to face you before crashing her lips on yours, both of you kissing each other deeply and with so much love. It turned you on a little when she moved her tongue inside if your mouth, exploring every inch and playing with your tongue, you gave in with a hum, letting her dominate the kiss as you let yourself completely fall, letting her hands slip under your shirt and move up to your breasts, gently squeezing them which made you moan softly. „Jinx…“ You hum softly, breaking the kiss. She looked at you with a lustful gaze, making you blush. „We don’t need our clothes now do we?“ You said with a chuckle and in no time both of you got rid if your clothes, Jinx pushing you down on the bed as she hovers over you, her lips finding your neck, leaving hickeys and little bites on your sensitive skin, making you gasp and moan as you ran your hand into her hair. „Fuck…you know how to make me weak do you?…“ You whispered close to her ear, sending shivers down her spine as she then pulled back to look into your eyes. „Of course I know what my baby likes…“ She said with a smirk before continuing her work down your chest, starting to play with your breasts which obviously got bigger after having your child, giving her more space to leave hickeys and once she started flicking her tongue over your sensitive nipple, you let out another soft moan.

„I love you…“ You mumble under your breath, chuckling a little bit when her sweet soft kisses up your neck tickled you until she reached for your lips again. „I love you too.“ Jinx said in between soft little pecks on your lips. Your hands move down along her sides, enjoying to feel her body. Your hand reached down to her shaft, gently moving your hand up and down, wanting to make her feel good too. She moaned softly as well now as she felt the pleasure from your hand rubbing her shaft, her hips automatically jerking forward. „Fuck…“ She cursed under her breath. „P-Please rub it against me…“ You begged and of course Jinx won’t deny you. Your hands move back to wrap around her neck as she teased you with the tip first and then rub it between your wet folds, both of you humming softly at the good feeling. „Yes…good girl let me get it nice and wet for you before I fuck you.“

Her words made you feel even more turned on, moaning once she finally moved inside, thrusting her hips back and forth inside of you, making you moan more loudly. Jinx leaning down to shut you up with a kiss. „Shh…baby not so loud you will wake up the kids.“ She mumbled against your lips with a chuckle. You bit down on your lower lip, trying to keep quiet as she fucked you, her hands reaching for yours intertwining your fingers as she wanted to hold you, your legs wrapping around her waist. Both of you had intense eye contact, looking at each other with so much love and passion as soft moans left both of your lips, your pussy clenching around her cock after a while, making her feel you were about to cum soon. „Is my baby close huh? Good. Cum for me my love.“ She cooed before letting go of your hands, sitting up as she grabbed your hips before pounding inside of you in a fast pace, making you moan out, immediately biting down on your lower lip hard as you noticed you got a little too loud again, shutting yourself up. The view of Jinx pounding into you with her beautiful long blue hair hanging down her chest and a few strands of hair along her face, it was just so sexy it drove you over the edge, making you reach your orgasm as your cunt pulsed around her, legs shaking.

Jinx immediately leaned down again after you ride out your orgasm, kissing you deeply and passionately. „Shh…it’s okay. You did so well..“ She whispered against your lips, you slowly calming down from your high, knowing you still had to get her off. „Hnn…we are not done yet, let me make you cum.“

She pulled out of you, you getting on your knees as you positioned yourself so you were ready to suck her off. Your tongue gently swirling around her tip before taking her cock into your mouth, making her moan and grab your hair as you kept moving, taking her cock deep down your throat as you kept yourself steady by holding her hips. „O-Oh fuck…yes just like that baby…I am so close fuck…“ She said in between her moaning, instinctively moving her hips, accidentally making you choke on her as she finally came as well, releasing her cum inside your mouth. Of course you made sure to swallow it all, smirking once you pulled away and looked up at her as you were panting softly.

„God…I love you so much.“ Jinx said before cupping your cheeks and kissing you deeply.

You both were so in love it was hard to describe into words but your actions already showed enough. Soon you and Jinx made yourself comfortable as you fell asleep in each others arms, enjoying the warmth of each other’s bodies.

———

Should I make more parts of this Series? Do you like it? 👀

[staybabblingbaby]

Soulmate Garden AU Ch.4 (Lewisia) a3d2

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Growing up, you knew Soulmates weren't all that they cracked up to be. So when, on your 18th birthday, your skin is painted with a garden of flower buds, you resolve to hide it from everyone. Who had ever heard of someone with 8 soulmates, anyway?

Or; Reader has 8 soulmates and no issue avoiding all of them. It's up to SKZ to show her that while every soulbond might not be made of fairy tales, theirs certainly could be.

Word Count: 10,680

Notes: Holy shit, it's been like 3 months?????? In my defense, holidays are awful, and this is a fuckin' beast of a chapter. Binnie would NAWT shut up T^T She almost matches the word count for the entire fic so far TT^TT Plus 10 images of texting. Y am i like this??? Huge shout outs to my lovely, patient, amazing betas who made this chapter at ALL possible, @lazyfacecowboy and @brbwritingfanfic. Seriously, this would not have been written without y'all, everyone say thank you! Also special mention for @chancloud8 for negotiating me through the last bit of the chapter LMAO. She kept feeding me fics, they were my reward for doing the writing UvU

Hope y'all enjoy! And I hope it was worth the wait <3

(p.s my ass did NOT do a real final readthrough. If the formatting is weird pls forgive me, I'm sick of looking @ her T^T)

Dividers by @saradika

Warnings: Allusions to past domestic violence, flashback of verbal abuse (very vague, but still there), panic attack, she/her reader

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks <3

Masterlist <3 | Prev Part | Next Part (Coming Soon <3)

The next morning marks a return to routine.

You roll out of bed half awake, sleep-mused and ready for murder. Your mood isn’t improved by the way you’d gone to bed - still in your work clothes with day-after mascara gluing your eyelids together.

A quick stop by the restroom to strip and scrub your face is a necessity, otherwise you’re liable to just crawl back into bed and rot there. You honestly wish you could. Just rot away and let all this soulmate business pass you by as you slowly return to the earth.

Alas, capitalism waits for no man.

You examine your reflection when you’ve finished, doing your best to ignore the remaining traces of grey streaks down your cheeks where your eyeliner hadn’t been as waterproof as advertised.

You try to hold onto the flash of irritation the sight brings you, to cling to the normalcy of being irritated that your makeup is waterproof enough to be a pain to remove, but not to stay through your tears. Then you remember what you’d been crying over and the pit of fear and shame that’s been your companion the last few days comes rolling back.

You don’t even know why you’d cried. Don’t feel like you deserved to cry. After all, it’s not like you were the one rejected by your soulmate for no reason.

You do your best to shake off the incoming spiral, ambling your way into the kitchen. You just need to fall back on your routines and feel normal for a bit. You’re not entirely convinced that ignoring your problems won’t make them go away, despite the dark feelings trembling in your chest.

You press your lips together to stop the bottom one from trembling and open the fridge. There’s a plate of eggs, fruit, and toast inside.

Taylor, freak of nature that he is, has been up for hours already, you know. He’d probably been up and out the door before the sun had even thought about rising. Weirdo.

Your roommate is well aware of how non-functional you can be in the morning, so it’s not unusual of him to leave you leftovers when he makes breakfast. Especially when he knows you’re not feeling your best. The little note on top isn’t new either: usually a reminder, grocery list, or a little encouragement for your day. The whole thing makes you smile, usually, and you’re always touched by his consideration.

Today that little note makes your eyes prick with a new wave of tears.

‘Give yourself a chance. Bet’s still on <3’

The $20 you’d slapped onto the counter last night is taped to the back. It feels a bit like a stone hand is crushing your heart under the weight of something unknowable and precious when you carefully tuck both the money and the note into your wallet.

You very deliberately do NOT cry, though it’s a near thing. You’d done enough crying last night. But if you sniffle a bit into cold eggs, well...

That’s for you to know, isn’t it?

It’s a Tuesday, so after breakfast you drag yourself back to your room to throw on your largest, rattiest, t-shirt and a pair of leggings to head to the gym. You’ll drag yourself through your routine with leaded limbs if you have to, you’re going to have the most regular day you can manage and everything will be fine. It has to be.

You can’t help it when eyes catch on the newly-bloomed marks on your skin as you strip away your sleepwear. The sight makes you uneasy, almost uncomfortable. It takes you a moment to realize why looking at your mark, a daily ritual you’ve kept for years, feels so foreign to you today.

It’s almost alarming to acknowledge that you haven’t actually looked at your mark since you’d met your first soulmate. The concert feels like a lifetime ago, now, despite having been barely two days ago. You’re a bit ashamed to admit that you’d been avoiding looking at it since you’d felt the first flowers bloom.

It’s no wonder looking at it feels weird, you muse as you study it now. It might as well be a whole new mark, for all the changes that have happened since you last saw it.

You decide, in the name of returning to your routine for good, that you can’t skip even this tiny part of your daily rituals.

You shuffle over to your closet, swinging open the door to reveal the full-length mirror hanging on the other side. You don’t bother with your usual rounds of self-depreciation or daily affirmations. Instead, you find your eyes glued to droopy purple petals and blankets of white stars across your abdomen.

Something wilted and small within you mourns the loss of the buds that had brought you so much comfort since they’d appeared. The new blooms are beautiful, of course, vibrant and radiant and full of so much meaning. Still, the change wounds you.

Only time will tell if it’s the healing sort of hurt.

You find your eyes glued to the fresh flowers. Their names come to mind with ease as you trace gentle fingers over echoes of delicate petals. ‘Bellflowers’ You recite to yourself, drawing your finger up thin stalks and back down dipped heads, ‘for gratitude, affection, and endurance’. Your fingers dance a bit lower. ‘Edelweiss’ you muse, lightly tapping each fuzzy white star, ‘for devotion, nobility, and courage’.

The knowledge comes easily to you, not from any cosmic force, but because of course it does. Your sister hadn’t been wrong when she’d said that asking a person’s favorite flower had been basically an obsession of yours.

The habit had started well before you’d gotten your mark. Before you’d even properly known what soulmates were, really.

It started with lazy summer days you’d been almost too young to remember. A slim hand engulfing your tiny wrist, being made to sit next to your mother while she did something in the dirt, her shadow your only shelter from the blistering sun.

Gardening with your mother had started as a way for her to drag you out of the house to get some sun while keeping an easy eye on you. Before your sister was born you’d spent many hazy afternoons learning to work the soil beside your mother.

After the advent of your favorite gremlin, you’d spent those afternoons tending to the family garden alone.

You remember being grateful to the newborn back then. Those solitary afternoons were some of the most peaceful in your memory.

At some point the ‘family garden’ had become more ‘your garden’. Your mother wouldn’t even bother to plan it out with you by the time your sister had reached her toddler years. She’d drive you to the store, hand you a bit of cash, and leave it all in your tiny capable hands.

You’d spent hours researching the best ways to nurture your plants.

What flowers liked being planted together, which ones should be separated. You learned about soil types and the nutrients found in them. You learned about ph values, how to measure them, and why they mattered. Anything to have your garden thriving more brightly, more beautifully, for longer.

If you weren’t in the garden, you were in the library by your house, nose buried in a gardening book.

You vividly remember the day it all went wrong.

It hadn’t even been that dramatic, as you recall. At least, not in terms of your parent’s usual fights. It was heartbreak—despair— that had marked the day, instead of fear.

You’d been digging up weeds, clawing up deep roots with your gloved hands and a trowel, when your father had come storming outside.

You don’t remember what he’d said. It’d been nonsense, just vitriol for vitriols' sake. Something about you always taking your mother’s side because of your shared hobby, you think.

Never mind that the woman hadn’t put so much as a toenail to the dirt since your sister had been born.

He hadn’t let up for quite a while, if memory serves. Stood there yelling at you in your safe space for close to an hour. Maybe two, but your child-brain couldn’t be trusted with the time.

It may have just been minutes, now that you think about it.

Nonetheless, he’d yelled, and yelled, and yelled. He hadn’t trampled on or broken anything. He hadn’t even made sense.

And yet, when he’d finally left, everything was different.

The blooms you’d worked so hard to nurture were no longer beautiful, the soil you’d once called home no longer safe.

You hadn’t tended another garden after that season. You’d seen your plants to winter, and you’d let go. You’d turned away from the sun and soil and leaned into your books and silly questions to fill the hole left behind.

You’re sure you’d left claw marks in the dirt.

Something like a gentle humming emanates from your soulmark, and its warmth draws you back to the present. You look down at it, noticing how tightly you're clutching at the garden around your waist, your arms wrapped around you in a weak semblance of a hug. Each of your fingers had managed to directly touch a flower.

The awkward sprawl of your fingers feels natural, as if you’d never sought to comfort yourself any other way. As if seeking out your bond, your link to total strangers, for comfort was all you’d ever done.

It was natural, you muse. It was human nature to seek resonance in their bonded. It was the universe’s way of assuring you that you’re loved. Your soulmate’s way of assuring you that they’re still there.

You gingerly pry your hands away and blankly study the crescent moons you’ve left behind, soft skin indented where petals should have ripped.

You wonder if you’ll leave claw marks in this garden too. If they’ll leave claw marks in you.

You tear your eyes away from the mirror, ignoring the warm, gentle tingling up your side where your fingers had dug in. You know it means the people on the other end are pressing against their own marks. You know it shows their care, how that gentle sensation masks the stinging ache your fingers should have left behind.

For some reason, you miss the pain.

You quickly toss on a camisole, forgoing your usual privacy wraps, and your t-shirt over that.

There was nothing for emptying your mind quite like running yourself into the ground at the gym. With full awareness that you’re going to regret your gym session later, you flee your apartment, your mind pleading normal, normal, normal.

Maybe jogging all the way to the gym wasn’t such a great idea. It’d sounded fantastic at the time, a head start on your cardio and a way to remove yourself from your negative headspace before you tried to toss around weights you barely knew how to use.

It had sort of worked, but now you hadn’t even entered the building and you were already a sweaty, panting, mess.

You enter the building after guzzling down half of your water bottle, resignation in your heart. Cardio wasn’t even your focus today.

The automatic doors slide open with their usual swish and you’re greeted by the familiar stale smell all gyms seem to share, no matter how clean. It’s comforting, even if you do kind of wanna go home already.

There’s someone already at the receptionist’s desk when you approach, talking in slow and measured English. You try not to be annoyed with the tiny delay, but while you’d successfully outrun your demons (for now), your bad mood had stuck around.

Alas, you’ve ventured into the public and found the public there. A travesty. Knowing that you just have to deal with it, you cross your arms and bite back the irritation this complete stranger hadn’t done anything to earn.

Luckily enough, the low and measured cadence of the stranger’s voice is soothing enough to zone out to. Unfortunately, he’s also the only thing around to rest your eyes on, so you find yourself studying his form.

His back is broad and built, huge biceps on display in a tight fitting black t-shirt. You kinda wanna squish them. A vivid tattoo sleeve runs all the way down to his wrist, and you find your stare glued to it.

Large, boldly colored flowers take up the majority of the space, vague outlines of crashing waves and rolling mists filling in the rest with a luxurious combination of oriental art styles.

Beautiful as it is, you can’t help but think it doesn’t look finished.

Dragging your eyes away from such gorgeous ink is quite the task, but you don’t want your admiration to be mistaken for judgement. It gets easier when you start to notice just how fine the man himself is.

You really can’t help the way your eyes trace up and down his body, now that you’re no longer anchored to his tattoo. It should be impossible, you think, to somehow bulk up in only the right places, but by Jove this man has done it. You’re jealous, honestly.

Your eyes come to a rest on the stranger’s backside. Quite jealous, indeed.

You try to shake yourself from your admiration, reminding yourself that there were very many well-muscled men in this place and that you’d always endeavored to keep a polite line-of-sight, even when they didn't. It hadn’t even been a hard ask, until now.

You drag your gaze back up to the back of his head.

You’d be polite if it killed you. Even if neither the stranger or the scrawny receptionist had noticed your wandering gaze. Especially then.

While you were.... distracted... the man’s conversation with the receptionist seemed to have gone a whole lot of nowhere. From what you can gather, he’s looking for a short-term membership, and the receptionist is trying to tell him they don’t do that.

You know that’s true, the receptionist isn’t trying to scam the guy. Even the trial period for this place was an entire month. You’d specifically chosen this gym for that reason. If you hadn’t been able to stick it out for a month, you know you’d have never used the place enough to justify a membership.

You send your sympathies to this stranger, it seems he really just needs a little less than a week. You know there are some no-commitment type places not too far though, so you wonder why he’s stuck on this place.

Their back and forth goes a while longer, but it’s evident that the beautifully-built stranger can’t really argue his case properly. Whether because of the obvious language barrier he’s working with, or because he’s run out of arguments, you can’t be sure.

Eventually he steps to the side to make a call, and you’re able to approach the counter.

The receptionist (His name is Jake, you remind yourself by reading his name-tag. The owner’s nephew, if you recall) looks relieved to see you after whatever hassling the stranger had given him.

He lazily waves the clipboard and its sign-in sheet at you in greeting. You take the clipboard, trading him your membership card and driver’s license for it, and turn to prop your knee up on the counter to balance it while you write.

Incidentally, your choice of position keeps the stranger in your line of sight.

It also happens to give Jake a view of his own, but you magnanimously ignore his gaze wandering to your chest. If only because you’re still looking not-so-respectfully at the tattooed stranger a few feet away.

You weren’t close to the receptionist by any means, but Jake is easy to chat to, when you take the extra minute to do so. The type of acquaintance you’d never remember the name of if it weren’t pinned to his lapel, but you've seen pictures of every dog he’s ever had.

It makes it easy to pry him for gossip.

“So what was that all about?” You query as you hand back the clipboard. He shrugs at you, typing a second longer.

“Some big-shot who needs a security detail,” He answers, unimpressed, “Says this is the only gym in, like, five miles of his hotel that he doesn’t need an entourage to go to.”

You hum your understanding, now trying to place if the handsome stranger was someone you knew of.

Situations like that weren’t uncommon for this gym. Celebrities that actually lived in LA weren’t spotted here very often but, since it was settled very close to quite a few high-security luxury hotels, the building saw its fair share of famous faces.

Due to its occasionally high-profile clientele, security was kept quite tightly, and a certain code of conduct was expected amongst the gym’s members. It was another justification for the long trial period, wherein one could only access the front room with the basic weights and machines. All the fancy stuff (including a pool, rock wall, dance studio, and all sorts) was in the back.

Non-members weren’t allowed past reception at all.

It was also another reason you yourself were a patron here. The high security and strict standards made for a quiet and comfortable atmosphere.

At least, as long as you ignored the judgmental looks. Most people who utilized this space were much more fit and put together than you. You tried not to let it bother you.

“What’s the issue, then?” You question Jake, “Doesn’t the owner make exceptions for celebrities?” You phrase it as a question, but you know he does. The unfamiliar faces that pop up for a few days every now and then wouldn’t show up otherwise.

Jake just sighs like he’s had this conversation a thousand times. Considering the celebrity(?) waving his hands around as he spoke rapidly into his phone not far away, maybe he had.

“He does, but he’s out of town and no one else can adjust the contracts.” He eventually explains. He finally hands you your stuff back, and you hum consideringly as you put the cards back in your wallet.

Another glance at the furrowed brows on the stranger’s masked face has pity welling up your throat.

You turn your gaze to focus on Jake.

“Do I still have that visitor pass?” You ask him, knowing that he still has your details up. Jake glances at you with a raised eyebrow, but obligingly checks the computer.

“Yup,” He confirms, “You’ve been paying for it since you dragged your poor roommate in here that one time. Why?”

“Can he use it?” you nod your head to the frustrated stranger. From where you’re sat, still perched on the edge of the desk, it looks oddly like he’s begging whoever’s on the other line.

Your visitor pass wasn’t all-access, of course. It’d just get the poor guy into the main front room plus the locker rooms and showers, but you figured it’d be better than nothing. It wasn’t like Taylor would step foot in here after you’d run him ragged last time, not even for the moral support.

Jake levels you with his most deadpan stare. It’s quite a good one, completely unimpressed. You think it must be something about customer service that allows him to make that face. Or maybe it’s just you.

“You realize that your visitor pass is you vouching for your visitor’s character, right?” He reminds you, “If he does anything, breaks anything, pisses off the wrong lifeguard- it’ll be on your head.”

You just shrug. It’s not like you couldn’t find a new gym if you had to. You’d miss this one, with its quiet atmosphere and abundant amenities, but you didn’t require its security and discretion like some of the other members did.

“I’ve got a good feeling about it.” Is all you tell Jake. It’s not even a lie.

The poor boy just rolls his eyes at you. He still turns to rifle through the desk for the right form for you to fill out though, so you’ll take it.

“You a fan of his or something?” Jake asks, handing you a different clipboard. “There are easier ways to bag a celebrity.”

“Nope!” You answer cheerfully, fully ignoring the suggestion of your motives as you start to fill out the form, “No idea who he is.”

Jakes huffs an incredulous laugh, and turns a considering gaze on your new friend. And the stranger does have to be a friend now, because ‘some guy’ is not an option on your paperwork.

“I bet he’s a wrestler,” he finally says after a long moment, “Or a sportswear model.”

You gently bop him on the head with your clipboard, “I refuse to participate in your speculation.” You admonish, ignoring his whining.

“I’ll show you his picture when you leave,” He smirks back, “and whatever google says about him.” He shrugs when you send him a cutting glare, “What? It’s public information.”

“Respect your customer’s privacy, you weirdo.” You scold. He just laughs as you hand him the form, all filled out and just waiting for the stranger’s signature. You know full well that Jake will go through with his research, regardless of what you say, so you give up easily.

It’s not like he’ll be fired for doing it, as long as you don’t go blabbing about the poor celebrity outside of the gym. Privileges of nepotism.

You exchange farewells as you hop off the counter, and he begins to wave over Mr. Celebrity. You meet the eyes of your on-paper friend and offer him a quick nod before you scuttle off deeper into the building.

Hopefully he’d be too grateful for your offer to find you terribly strange.

You manage to make it all the way through your warm-ups before your good deed gets punished. You suppose you’ll be grateful to the universe for letting you find your zen on your yoga mat before it dropped the other shoe.

You notice the legs in the mirror before you realize someone is trying to speak to you. You accidentally ignore the newcomer for several long moments, assuming they were approaching to use a different part of the mirror. When you finally realize they’re waiting for you to acknowledge them, it’s been just shy of too long.

You ease out of your last stretch and stand up, automatically taking an earbud out as you turn to face them.

“Sorry, did you need me to move?” You question as you finally look up. You‘d had your most emo playlist blasting in your ears during your warm up, an attempt to process your feelings through movement or whatever that one instructor from forever ago had tried to teach you.

So of course it’s with perfect clarity that A. Jay Popoff sings “I am my own worst enemy” into the empty space between you and Seo motherfuckin’ Changbin.

Your mental plea for a normal, routine sort of day dies a horrible death when you make eye contact with the pop-star.

And you realize you really must be your worst enemy as you do, because you easily recognize the outfit he’s wearing and the vivid tattoos on his arm.

Of course your good deed for the day led you to one of your soulmates. Of. Fucking. Course.

You’re not sure what you’d done to Karma recently for her to be throwing all of this shit at you right now, but you’d appreciate it if she’d just let you apologize instead of whatever cruel punishment this is.

Changbin must realize you recognize him, because he shyly raises a hand to fiddle with his earrings as he replies.

“Ah, no, I uh...” The hand slides to the back of his neck and he clears his throat uncomfortably. You quickly school your expression back into a semblance of normality when he glances away. You feel like you might still be a bit wild around the eyes, though.

“I just wanted to say thank you.” He concludes. He looks like he wants to say more, but you figure he might not have the English words to do so easily. It’s okay, you don’t really have the Korean to describe how you’re feeling right now either.

Your first instinct is to offer to speak Korean for him, but the air between the two of you is already wildly uncomfortable. Vastly different causes for both of you, you’re sure, but it’s enough to make you second guess your every move.

“Oh, uh, no problem.” You assure.

You stare resolutely at his nose when you speak. If you look into his eyes again you’re sure you’ll spill your entire life story. And if not that extreme, you’ll at least spill the whole soulmate thing. Something about being directly confronted with your problems makes you chatty.

But also if you look away from his face, knowing that body is supposed to be compatible with yours... It leads to some very impolite thoughts. Cute as it is, his nose is the safest thing for you to look at right now.

You offer the idol a thin-lipped smile when you realize the interaction hasn’t ended. Dear god, why has it not ended?

“Anything else I can do for ya?” you offer, inwardly cursing your manners. You’ve lived here long enough that you know people outside your tiny country-side town take that as an invitation instead of a dismissal.

Sure enough, Changbin starts to speak again, his words slow and careful. You watch him wipe his palms on his shorts, idly wondering if he’s shitting himself internally as much as you are right now. And what he’s freaking out about if he is.

“You... Recognize me? Are you STAY?” He gestures a bit while he talks, like he’s trying to cast a spell on you to understand what he’s trying to say. You think it might work, because your mouth is running off without you before you quite process the words.

“Ahh.. hah, uh,” You chuckle awkwardly, your fingers rising to pinch your lips nervously, “My roommate is. We were at your concert the other day, actually,” And even as you say the words your eyes flick down to his arm. You refocus, hopefully before he could notice the quick glance, but you can’t stop your thoughts from spiraling.

After all, he didn’t have that kind of ink at the concert. You and Taylor were front row, right up on the barricade, you’d seen all eight Stray Kids up close and personal. You’d have remembered such a vivid tattoo. And there were only so many reasons to cover a sleeve like that so completely.

Something complicated settles in your stomach as you realize that Changbin is probably a ‘loud and proud’ kind of soulmate, if he’s showing off his mark like this outside of his work. Work you know prevents him from showing off his mark.

Your mouth keeps running without you while you have your little crisis.

“I didn’t recognize you at reception, I woulda had you sign something for him.” You can’t help the rush of embarrassment that sweeps through you, even as you laugh uncomfortably at your own joke.

Why on earth would you say something like that? This situation is already uncomfortable enough! On so many levels!

Somehow, this seems to have been the right thing to say, though, as Changbin’s eyes light up at your joke, the tension easing a bit.

“I can sign,” He suggests, “It would make me feel...” He starts gesturing again, looking for the word he wants, “Less bad?” He finishes like a question.

And suddenly you understand his awkwardness a lot better. It always sucks to feel indebted to someone.

You laugh a little more freely with your new understanding, “Oh, you really don’t have to,” You assure, “I was just joking.”

He shakes his head, “Think of it as.. trade.” He nods, satisfied with himself.

You bob your head to the side, pressing your lips together with a tiny, frustrated, whine, “I really didn’t want anything from you,” you insist, “I hold onto that pass for my roommate, but he never comes with me anyways. You’re doing me a favor using it, seriously.”

You try to speak slowly and clearly, taking a page from Changbin’s book and letting your hands roam while you speak. You hope your spell of understanding works as well as his did.

He takes a moment to respond, mouthing along to some of your words. It’s kind of fascinating to watch someone translate in real time, especially when the process is written all over their face. It’s a little surreal to be on the other side of it.

Eventually his face clears, and he makes a little ‘ah!’ noise that you really shouldn’t find as endearing as you do. You’re in the middle of rejecting your soulmates, you should not be finding one of them cute right now.

“If it is roommate’s pass, more reason to sign, yes?” He reasons, looking proud of his logic. You huff a tiny laugh at him, absolutely charmed.

“Sure, big guy,” You sigh with defeat, though you can’t seem to wipe the smile off your face, “Sounds like a fair trade. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.”

The two of you stall for a moment, the atmosphere leagues lighter than before.

When the moment seems over, you make a show of looking down at your pocket-less outfit, and then at the ground around you.

“I don’t have a pen on me,” you trail off meaningfully. He looks surprised for a second, like the possibility had never occurred to him.

“Oh,” He looks around as well, lost for a moment, “I can see if front desk has one?” he asks, like he’s looking for instruction. Another thought seems to occur to him then.

“Do you have...” He starts to gesture again, but you cut him off with a nod, fairly certain you’re sure what he’s trying to ask.

“Yeah, I’m sure I can find something for you to sign,” You point in the direction of the locker room, “I’ll probably have to look in my bag though.” You glance between him, the door to the locker room, and the door that leads out to reception.

“Meet back here in 5?” you propose. He seems content with this plan and nods in agreement. “Oh!” You stop him before he can fully turn around.

“Ask for a sharpie,” you instruct, “I’m not sure I’ll be able to find regular paper.” In fact, you’re pretty sure you’ll be sacrificing the spare ball cap you keep in your bag for this. You hope Taylor likes tie-dye.

With that, the two of you go your separate ways. It takes you no time at all to locate the bright monstrosity of a hat, a souvenir you abhorred from one of your father’s many ‘business’ trips. It would be no loss to you, but you take time to see if you have any actual paper around. You need the processing time.

Stars above, what were you thinking? There was no way you were getting out of this without another soulmate bond, but here you were, casually chatting with the guy instead of getting the fuck out of dodge!

You really couldn’t help it though.

Even when he’d been no more than a stranger to you, you hadn’t been able to help the way you gravitated toward Changbin. Now that you knew he was your soulmate, your actions made a lot more sense to you.

You’d always been on the people pleasing side of helpful, but vouching for a complete stranger was new for you. Even now, you were obediently grabbing an item for him to deface with a signature you don’t even want (no matter how thoroughly Taylor would murder you if you’d passed it up) just because you could tell how uneasy Changbin was with just accepting the visitor pass.

It didn’t help that the man was endearing as hell. Every little thing he did seemed cute to you, and you’d barely known him for ten minutes!

You felt like this was a new low for you. Doing things you didn’t really want to, for a man. Taylor would be so disappointed in you.

Having stalled for maybe far too long, you settle on sacrificing the atrocious hat to Changbin’s pen and put your stuff away. Something heavy and squirmy settles in your chest as you make your way back out to retrieve your prize from the man of the hour.

Surprisingly, there’s no accidental meeting of hands when Changbin autographs your hat. He did give you a bit of a bemused look for the choice of item, but you’d just shrugged at him. It was all you were willing to sacrifice, and Taylor should be grateful for even this much, in your opinion.

Unsurprisingly, the lack of first contact does not ease your mind at all. In fact, it rockets up your anxiety another thousand notches. You can’t help checking over your shoulder at every opportunity, despite the fact that Changbin hadn’t left the weights area since he’d settled there and couldn't follow you through the door to the rest of the facility regardless.

Look, you know how the whole first contact thing worked, okay? Fate would put two soulmates in the same place for whatever stupid reason, and find an even stupider reason for them to make skin-to-skin contact. You’d experienced it twice now, and you couldn’t help but think going out of your way to avoid everything Changbin was wouldn’t help you very much.

Even still, you can’t stay paranoid and vigilant forever. When nothing happens while you finish your cardio, or when you work your way through both the pool and the sauna, you admittedly let down your guard a bit.

Maybe that’s why, after you’ve made your way back to the front room to try and finish your workout, when you’re mid-stretch and staring daggers at a weight machine you’re sure you’ll figure out how to use if you glare long enough, you jump about five miles out of your skin when you hear Changbin’s voice behind you.

Jumping from such a precarious position is never a good idea, and your sudden movement has set your head on a one-way collision course with the gym’s hardwood floors about it.

Hands fly around your middle, catching you awkwardly around your ribs. Unfortunately, all this noble attempt to catch you does is slow your descent, giving you just enough time to flinch violently enough to bring your arms up and prevent your head from meeting the ground and brace for impact.

The rest of you still hits the ground pretty hard, and Changbin’s knees and elbows meet a similar fate, his own head saved by headbutting your stomach, knocking the air out of you even harder than it already had been.

The two of you sit there a moment, groaning with the pain of your fall. At least you don’t have a concussion. You’ll take every small mercy with the way the universe has treated you lately.

Some part of you is cognizant enough to give the heavens a heartfelt thank you when you notice that none of your aches and pains are from your soulbond activating. Somehow, through that entire debacle, and even considering the amount of exposed skin between your t-shirt and his, you hadn’t managed to touch. You’re still safe.

As the shock starts to wear off, you start to become aware of the warmth of large hands still resting heavily against your sides, both soothing and wildly distracting. It’s like every fiber of your being is focused on where he’s touching you, warm and weighty. Changbin’s head still buried in your abdomen doesn’t help with the building fluster taking over your brain.

You swear one of his thumbs has landed squarely on one of the flower buds directly opposite Lee Know’s Bellflowers, and the tingly feeling of the bond weakly trying and failing to establish through the thin barrier of your shirt is not helping your mushy brain at all.

You tip your head back to stare at the ceiling, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth to prevent yourself from doing something stupid, like confessing all of your sins to Changbin right then and there.

Maybe you did have a concussion after all.

It’s probably been less than a minute since the two of you hit the floor, but it feels like ten hours have passed when Changbin finally lifts his head, wide eyes finding yours frantically.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” He asks, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, are you okay?” He uses his hold on you to gently lift you to a seated position, removing them in favor of hovering politely as he fusses. You don’t think he’s realized he’s reverted to his native Korean in his panic.

“I’m alright, I’m okay,” you assure him in the same language, “Just bruised a bit, I’m fine.”

He continues to fuss a bit more, running you through a quick series of concussion tests even after you tell him that you hadn’t hit your head at all. It’s only after he’s helping you to your feet, respectfully allowing you to use a clothed part of his arm to help yourself up, that he clocks the language the both of you are using.

“Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?” He teases, “You speak Korean all of the sudden.”

You can’t help the little laugh that escapes you, nor can you help how his smug little smile makes your heart flutter. “I’ve spoken Korean the whole time.” You inform him.

“And you didn’t tell me? You just let me struggle?” The fondness in his smile assures you that he’s just joking, so you respond in kind.

“You were just trying so hard...” You shrug sheepishly and delight in the full body laugh that tears out of him. You wait for him to calm before you ask, “What did you need, by the way? I didn’t catch what you said before, well..” You gesture helplessly at the floor.

It’s his turn to look sheepish now, shoulders hiking up and a nervous hand making its way to his neck, “Ah, that.” he shrugs, “I was just saying that you had a pretty soulmark.”

The sudden compliment catches you off guard, and you suddenly become aware that your camisole has come loose from where it had been tucked into your sweats. Your hand flies up to cover the now-covered skin of your stomach, feeling sick.

You can’t remember when it happened, and the thought of however many strangers seeing your soulmark, no matter how little of it, sends a sharp note of dread through your body. You suddenly feel eyes digging into your skin, despite being covered again as soon as you’d stood up. You feel a bit sick, your skin crawling with discomfort.

You’re aware that your camisole would have ridden up to your lower back, at most, but there’s no telling how much of your mark anyone might have seen. What Changbin might have seen, what he may have noticed.

Changbin must notice your sudden pallid complexion, and continues on, trying to reassure you, probably. You barely hear him over the heartbeat in your ears, your trembling hands trying to discreetly tuck the undershirt back in while he speaks.

“I just meant that it’s very colorful and vibrant,” He explains, smile fading from his face as concern starts to cloud it at your reaction, “Whoever your soulmate is, they’re very lucky.”

“Ah, I don’t know them yet,” You counter. It’s even the truth. You hadn’t spoken much to any of your soulmates so far. Well, until now, you guess.

“Oh, well, I stand by what I said.” He asserts, his easy grin betrayed by the pinch between his brows, “Whoever your soulmate is will be very lucky to have you.”

“I don’t know about all that,” You tilt your head with self-deprecating consideration.

Maybe it’s a lingering guilt for how you’ve been handling your soulmates so far that makes you continue the thought, instead of laughing it off like the joke it should be. Maybe you just want him- want them- to know why you’ve been acting this way, “I don’t even know if I want to meet them, so I’m not sure how lucky they could be to have me as a soulmate.”

Changbin levels you with an absolutely baffled look, as if you’ve just challenged the very foundation of his worldview.

“Why not?” He asks, “Doesn’t everyone want to meet their soulmate?”

You wrap yourself in a loose hug, one hand rubbing soothingly at your elbow, and shrug, “I just... I haven’t had great experiences with soulmates, is all.” You can’t keep your eyes from straying to his soulmark, vibrant and full.

It’s an image that would be hard to elbow your way into, and you can’t imagine a way that the addition of you could possibly enhance it. It still feels unfinished to you, but it doesn’t look that way. You feel both better and worse about yourself, knowing that they didn’t need you.

A glance at Changbin’s utterly lost face has you opening your mouth before you can think about it, shoulders beginning to climb up to your ears.

“Not all soulmates get along, you know?” You mutter sullenly, almost to yourself.

Changbin seems to consider this for a moment, head tilting cutely to the side as he takes in your claim.

“I mean, sure.” He draws his words out slowly, carefully, with a little furrow between his brows. “Everyone fights sometimes, but you get through it together, right? That’s what makes you soulmates. Choosing to stick together.”

You couldn’t hold in the scoff and eye-roll combo that rips out of you if you’d tried. “Yeah, maybe.”

You’d feel bad about the venom in your voice, or the way it causes Changbin to shift uncomfortably from foot to foot, but you can’t find it in yourself to care at the moment. Something sick and dark twists around your stomach, and the battle to keep a deep scowl from your face is the only one you’re willing to fight right now.

“I have a feeling that was the wrong thing to say,” Changbin smiles wanly at you, and you meet his eyes for barely a second before you find yourself melting beneath his earnest gaze. The thorns around your heart ease just enough to bleed, and you shrug at him again.

“When people stay together just because they’re soulmates it only makes things worse.” you tell him, “Nothing gets magically fixed just because you’re soulmates.”

Surprisingly, Changbin agrees easily, “Well, yeah, that’s not the kind of sticking together I’m talking about,” He explains, “I meant more, like,” He gestures as he tries to find his words, and your heart positively aches as you realize the habit transcends languages.

You find yourself softening more and relaxing out of your defensive curl out of sheer endearment. You’re sure you’d be making absolute heart-eyes at Changbin right now if the topic at hand wasn’t so deeply uncomfortable for you.

“Ok, let me try an example,” He eventually decides, his eyes following your gaze where it had once again returned to his soulmark without your permission. He flexes a bit, making the flowers on his skin bounce and dance with a small, fond, smile. “I’m soulmates with the other members, right?”

He says it easily, casually, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You almost nod along, before you remember that the world at large definitely does not have that information, even if you do, and you meet his smug little smirk with wide-eyed shock.

You can’t help but gape at him for the casual confession, glancing around the empty gym like someone else might’ve heard Changbin’s brazen confession. He’s already waving you off before you can sputter out the questions stuck in your throat.

“It’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it. It’s not like we try very hard to hide it.” He does a weird little half-nod-half-shrug motion at his soulmark, “But yeah, we’re all soulmates, and we all pretty much knew before debut, even though Innie’s mark hadn’t shown up yet.”

You do nod this time. Slowly, though, as you try to figure out where he’s going with this. Changbin takes it as permission to continue, and so he does.

“Well, Jeongin’s our baby, and even though marks show up at 18, you’re not an adult in Korea until 19, so there’s a lot we had to leave him out on.” He grimaces a little, “Being an Idol is stressful as it is, throwing a new soul bond and puberty and all that on top wasn’t very helpful. We were all volatile and fragile. But Innie definitely took it the worst. He felt left behind and unfair and angry with it all.”

He chuckles and gives a little shrug, “We had our share of knock-down, drag-outs.” He admits sheepishly, “It wasn’t an easy time for us.” He rolls his head toward the ceiling and, despite Changbin’s efforts, you can easily spot the smitten look on his face along with his cherry-red ears.

“But we made it through,” He says softly, “We took the time to dig into all of his insecurities and find what we could do to help him. He made the choice to be vulnerable and honest with us. It took time to get here, but we made it through.”

Changbin meets your eyes again, “That’s what I mean when I say soulmates are about choosing to stick together. You work through the hard times and disagreements together, work toward something better. Soulmates are destiny, but love is choice.”

You let his words rattle around your brain as you get lost in his earnest gaze. Let the idea settle into you like something entirely new, like it wasn’t your understanding of healthy relationships beforehand. Of course that’s the ideal, you know that. No one is perfect and all that, everyone disagrees sometimes. It’s discussing it and finding solutions together that makes a partnership work long-term. You know that.

For the first time, you wonder if you’d just always considered soulmates an exception to the rule.

You’d automatically assigned soulmates as a concept a failing grade at working their problems through. Your parents certainly never worked out their issues, and every soulmate you’d ever seen in the media was an automatic happy-ending. As soon as that bond snaps into place, the story’s over. Happily ever after.

You’d always thought ‘ever after’ must be an awful short time.

‘Love is choice’ echoes through you like something divine.

You break Changbin’s gaze and offer him a half-hearted shrug. “I guess.” you concede, “My soulmates probably have a lot of work cut out for them with me, though. So I still don’t know if they’d want me.”

“I think it’d be worth the work,” Changbin smiles gently at you, “To be your soulmate, I mean.”

You feel heat rush up your neck and bless your genetics for keeping it from showing on your cheeks. You disguise your bashfulness by lightly slapping Changbin’s shoulder (and woah is he solid under your hand when you do) and loudly complain about him being a flirt.

He responds by doing his best to fluster you, clearly enjoying putting those fanservice skills to use. You complain with every flex and smoulder, especially when he starts unleashing the aegyo, and the two of you let the banter and laughter chase away the somber mood.

Eventually you settle, and Changbin nods at the very intimidating machine you’d been staring at what felt like a lifetime ago now.

“Did you need a spotter?” He offers. You hem and haw for a moment, before sheepishly admitting that you need a teacher more than a spotter. When he lights up and offers to be that, too, you can’t help the way your eyes travel up and down his body with open admiration.

He certainly looks plenty qualified, and really, you’re only a girl. If your once-over leaves him with red ears and a smug grin, well. You’ll consider it your revenge for now.

You very quickly realize your mistake in letting him coach you.

Changbin tours you quickly around various machines, explaining their functions and the proper ways to use them to avoid injury. All well and good, and you ask permission to record short videos of him doing so in case you find yourself forgetting his advice, which he graciously allows on the condition you don’t share them anywhere.

You agree after negotiating for viewing rights for Taylor, with the reasoning that the lure of the videos might actually get your roommate back into the gym with you. It makes Changbin laugh enough to indulge you.

And then he actually starts you on a machine, after getting a rundown on what you’d already done today, and you experience hell on earth.

The thing is, he’s unfairly good at coaching you through it. He keeps up a steady stream of warm encouragement and light jokes even as you curse him out for steadily increasing the weights on each machine you work through. He’s right there to help you through the sets the moment you start to get too tired and is almost preternaturally good at pushing you to only just above your limits.

And his hands are always right there. He’s almost always touching you somehow, throughout the whole thing. His touch is light, coaching and clinical, and unfailingly polite. Still, the warmth of his skin through your flimsy gym-wear feels heavy. Nearly threatening. Distracting, at the very least.

You’ll definitely need those videos later.

It’s a relief when it’s over. You’re sore and sweaty and you have to go sit at a desk for six or more hours when you leave, which you’re very much not looking forward to.

Changbin splits with you to hit the showers, but somehow you still come together again before you pass reception.

“Thanks for today,” you say as the two of you stall your goodbyes, “I had a lot of fun. You’ve more than earned that guest pass.” you tease, smile wide and mischievous.

He’s smiling too, even as he shoves your shoulder and complains about you extorting him.

When you run out of things to say, you shuffle lightly in place. It’s not like you expect him to give you his number, he is an Idol after all, but still you can’t quite make yourself leave. You find yourself casting around for something, anything, to say to make the moment last. To stay in his presence just a second longer.

You shake yourself out of it once you notice. You might not be running from them anymore, but you certainly weren’t trying to make friends with your soulmates. The longer you stayed in his presence, the more likely it was that you’d end up with another first contact.

At last, after a far-too-long moment of silence, you hold out your hand and offer a flat, closed-lip smile.

“It was really nice to meet you, Changbin.” You tell him sincerely, eyes locked on his. You swear looking your soulmates in the eye is some kind of hypnosis, the way you always get lost in them when you do. Something about it just makes you feel a tiny bit dumb, like your brain gets switched off.

“You too, y/n.” He agrees, reaching for your offered hand. You only realize what you’ve just done as your name leaves his lips, your eyes widening as they dart down to his hand and yours, but it’s far too late.

Your breath hitches a moment before his skin makes contact with yours, and you watch it happen in slow motion. He grasps your hand and pulls you in instead of settling for the more distant and formal farewell. All too quickly you’re settled into his grasp, completely enveloped in him and dizzy with more than just his warmth as soft prickles dance up your side.

You feel more than you hear him gasp, his hold on you so complete. Your head ends up on his shoulder as you stumble into him from his pull, and you get a front row seat to the top of his shoulder filling in with outlines and shadows from your place tucked against his neck, dull colors adding a definition to the images in his soulmark and settling like they’d always been there.

Distantly, you feel chest tighten with completion, with satisfaction and something smug and proud at the sight, even as your mind starts screaming.

Changbin is solid against you, comforting and almost stiflingly warm from both his workout and shower. You catch a whiff of his soap, the scent muting the alarm bells blaring in your brain even as you lay limp against him with the shock.

And then his hold on you tightens just a bit, only for a moment, but it’s all that it takes for you to break.

Your breath begins to hitch, visions of sweet touches turning sour and threatening violence causing you to flinch violently in Changbin’s comforting embrace. You feel your eyes begin to wet as you start to struggle, needing out, out, out.

It must have been less than a second, but Changbin pulls back, still holding you by your shoulders like he doesn’t know how to let go.

“Y/n?” He asks, voice small. You can only shake your head, breaths coming out in harsh gasps, limbs trembling violently. Changbin hurriedly lowers the two of you to the floor, much more prepared than you are for your limbs to give out halfway down.

He finally releases you as you settle and you curl tightly into yourself. The places where he’d held you feel frozen now, the cold viciously settling into your bones, even as Changbin does his best to get your attention and guide you through a breathing exercise.

You can’t focus on him though, the sensation of flowers blooming on your skin overwhelming, the memory of his touch both welcome and suffocating.

“S- ‘orry, I’m-” You hiccup, “I’m so- so s’rry-” If Changbin is at all put off by your sudden breakdown, he doesn’t show it. He just tilts his head and offers you hushed words of assurance.

“Nothing to be sorry for, y/n,” he assures, “It’s alright, just breathe, ok?”

He offers you a hand and you can’t help but take it, the warmth startling a breath into you that you hadn’t been aware you needed. Changbin guides your hand to his chest, instructing you to breathe with him, and you automatically focus on the heavy thump of his heartbeat under your palm.

He keeps talking to you, trying to keep your attention, but your mind spins wildly away from you even as you finally manage a deep inhale under Changbin’s attention.

You need to tell him that you’d known since he’d first spoken to you who he was. Who he was to you, even, but you can’t open your mouth to do more than gasp another apology. You’re sure he’ll hate you, leave you there on the floor of the gym to die like you deserve, especially after all you’d told him about how you feel about soulmates.

He’ll hate you for putting his soulmates through rejection, for refusing to speak to them or even look them in the eye. He’ll leave you here, humiliated on the gym’s floor, and you’ll deserve it because you’re a horrible person who wouldn’t even give them a breadth of a chance because you were too damn scared-

A hand grasps your spare one, the one not touching him, not keeping you just barely above the waves of hyperventilating, and you hadn’t even noticed it scrabbling at the stretched out neckline of your t-shirt until it’s gently pried away and guided to a wall of firm muscle.

Your fingers instinctively grasp what’s suddenly underneath them, and your vision stutters back in as a soft tingling rockets its way up your arm.

You distantly acknowledge that it was probably a bad thing that your vision had faded off with your eyes stuck wide open, staring blankly at legs you couldn’t feel. Right now, however, all you can experience is Changbin. His mark under your fingers, grip clawing and desperate. His heartbeat under your palm, faster than it should be, but steady and loud and feeling like it’s part of your own body.

Like he knows he has your attention again, Changbin ducks down to catch your eyes. You find nothing in them but concern and a soft emotion you couldn’t hope to pinpoint.

“Y/n,” He calls softly, “Y/n, do you mind if I touch you?” The gentleness he speaks to you with is devastating, like he’s trying to place your panicked mind on a cloud of care. You want so desperately to accept that care from him.

You nod, small jerky movements to indicate your agreement even as gasping sobs still stutter in your chest.

Changbin immediately moves, shuffling closer to you on his knees and releasing the wrist of your hand, the one still grasping at his mark like it’d disappear if you relaxed so much as a millimeter. He uncrosses his arms from the awkward reach he’d had to use to maneuver your hands where he wanted them, and reaches his now free hand to rest gently but firmly on your waist, right over his place within your own mark.

The resonance from his touch is weaker, the material of your shirt in his way, but with both sides active the feeling floods you in a way you could never describe.

You know, in the back of your mind, that you’ve read about resonance before. That you know all about the flood of endorphins and other feel-good hormones that it causes, that you’ve read first hand accounts from all sorts of people swearing up and down it feels better than any orgasm ever could. In the moment though, you feel like your brain has been reset completely. Back to factory settings, entirely blank.

You come back to yourself in slow blinks, resonance still echoing brightly between you and Changbin. Your one hand is still tightly clasped to his chest, and you’re sure you’re only breathing right now due to the steady rise and fall of Changbin’s chest. The two of you are still gripping each other’s marks.

You feel unsettled as awareness returns to your body. You feel floaty and not all there, even as you calm enough to feel the numbness of your legs and the pain in your knees from hitting the floor. An increasingly familiar tingling feeling is emanating from each of your active soulmarks, despite the fact that you know the other two should have no idea how you’re feeling right now.

Your bond wasn’t strong enough for that. You hadn’t given it the chance to be.

The thought that they might just be thinking of you gives you a soft and fluttery sort of feeling.

Finally, Changbin pulls back, removing his hand from your mark and sliding up your arm to gently pry yours from his bicep. You’d wince at the marks your nails had left on his skin if you didn’t still feel like your bones were vibrating on the astral plane from the intensity of a reciprocal resonance.

He gently holds both of your hands in his and settles them between you, catching your eye again.

“You back with me, bubs?” He asks, smile light and tone even. You’d think him unaffected if not for the redness of his ears and the slight haze in his eyes.

Right. Eight soulmates. He’s probably used to it.

He’s also trying to get you down from a panic attack, you remember as your hands begin to faintly tremble in his grip. You nod slightly at his question, apologizing again.

“Hey, no.” Changbin scolds softly, eyes locked on yours, “You’ve nothing to be sorry for, it’s okay. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

You shake your head in refusal of both ideas, opening your mouth once, twice, three times, before huffing irritatedly at the lack of words falling from your lips. Changbin squeezes your hands to keep your attention on him, expression open and accepting. His silence allows yours to end.

“I just- It’s just that I-” You breathe harshly through your nose, squeezing his hands back to ground yourself, “I knew from when I realized who you were that you were my soulmate.” you grind out in halting words, the trembling spreading from your hands up to your chest. You take in a shuddering breath, “That’s why I was apologizing. Because I knew and I still said those things to you.”

You can tell your confession takes Changbin off guard. The man blinks rapidly as he takes in the new information, slotting your earlier behavior against your reaction just now and having trouble connecting them.

“Soulmates terrify me,” you confess quietly, before he can ask, “You’re so nice, but you’re so fucking scary to me, I’m sorry.”

With that, you remove your hands from his, and Changbin just sort of helplessly lets you go, a lost expression taking over his face. You try to stumble to your feet, and he scrambles up to help you, caring even through his confusion.

You can feel the trembling travel to your legs, and you’re glad for his steady hold despite yourself. You feel like a stiff breeze might knock you over.

“I need- I- I’ve gotta- argh!” You clench your teeth with frustration, taking a deep, bracing, breath, before trying again. “I need to go home.” You’d like to say it came out strong and self-assured, but the words leave you in a breathless whimper that makes you feel small and pathetic.

Everything about this makes you feel small and pathetic.

Changbin catches your eyes again, brows creased in concern.

Except for him.

“Of course, whatever you need,” He assures, “Can I call a car for you? A friend? Your roommate?”

You shake your head, hopelessly endeared by his need to help you. You feel guilty for refusing him when he’d just pivoted from the bombshell you’d dropped on him to focus on your care but you- you needed to go home. You needed to leave, and it was taking every ounce of effort you could spare to keep from bolting.

“No, I can- I’ve got- I want- shit.” The curse spills from you unbidden, frustration with the vestiges of your panic refusing to leave you building sharply. If anything, Changbin’s concern only grows deeper as you struggle to express yourself.

“I need to move, I’ll walk.” Your mouth finally allows you to spit out, almost aggressively. Changbin almost seems to despair at your declaration.

Looking at your own condition, you can’t blame him. Trembling like a leaf and barely able to speak, you’d never let yourself leave if you’d been in his place. You can’t spare the energy to explain that if anyone tried anything at you in this condition you’d probably try to kill them first and ask questions later.

You don’t handle stress well.

Still, despite his obvious reluctance, Changbin lets you leave his embrace.

You’re more stable on your feet now, and a deep breath fills you with a facade of confidence that will see you home. Changbin’s hands still hover around you, as if waiting for you to shatter apart again.

“If you need anything, please call me, okay? Anything at all, please call me.” He pleads with you. You only manage to give him another tiny nod before you dip into a full bow and turn to flee.

Changbin watches you go with a face full of concern and confusion.

‘I think it’d be worth the work, to be your soulmate’ he’d said. You can’t help but wonder, as the gym disappears behind you, if he still thinks that.

Tag Garden: @brbwritingfanfic , @braveangel777 , @breathlessbookworm , @chancloud8 , @roseynoodles , @katsukis1wife , @alisonyus , @imnotsop , @pixie0627 , @velvetmoonlght , @upsidedownchaire , @unusuallyshy , @interstellar-equilibrium , @staytinyluv , @m00njinnie , @staaaa4 , @yourcrypticreaper , @beas-24 , @stars4jo , @scented-morker , @tirena1 , @min-doesnt-know , @glitterveins992 , @yumuramma , @shoganaiiii , @4ng3l-ch1ld , @linospetsitter

Perma Tags: @mbioooo0000 , @thatgirlangelb (<- you've been added without choice. suffer.)

[nubiawrites]

chapter five

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Original Character

Warnings: Slow burn. 18+. Smut. oral (giving and receiving). alcohol. talks of safe sex.

Summary: Aaron and Iriye have a nightcap, tensions being released as new connections are formed.

Notes: Everyone say thank you to GQ and Aaron's sleeve. I told you all the next chapter would be worth it. Enjoy and let me know what you think

MASTERLIST

Aaron's fingers drummed steadily against the wheel as he drove Iriye and himself back to his place. The Bluetooth in his card played some Sade as Aaron drove them in comfortable silence. 

This was not Iriye's first one-night stand, but it was with someone like Aaron—a collaborator, an artist, an actor. As they inched closer to his place, her anxiety got the best of her.

"I've never done this before," Iriye blurted out. Aaron had parked the car in the parking garage of his apartment, and he paused.

"Like had sex?" Aaron raised both eyebrows, and Iriye swatted his arm. 

"I've had sex. Trust me," Iriye sighed. "I don't sleep with talent. I never have,"

"Okay," He nodded.

"Because I respect you. And I love my job. And I love this project. And I don't make this a habit," Iriye rambled.

Aaron just smirked as she kept talking, seeing the defenses fall. She was always so sharp and on it, and he liked that, but this made her more endearing.

"What are you thinking?" Iriye asked. "Because if it is and I'm crazy, I will happily Uber home, and we can just—" He cut her off by leaning in for a kiss. The movement took her aback, but she ultimately relaxed into the gentle and sweet kiss. 

Iriye pulled back once fully relaxed and hummed, her eyes opening to look at Aaron's face. 

"Well, if you're wondering what I'm thinking, I don't care if you've never done this or have done this a million times," Aaron stated. "As Nelly and many other women I know would say, you're a grown-ass woman,"

"Please say that again. I need to hear it with your accent and all," Iriye teased. Aaron rolled his eyes before leaning in. 

"Grown-ass woman," Aaron repeated, and Iriye giggled. "Let's just see what happens. No pressure,"

Iriye nodded, and Aaron got out of the car. Iriye would do the same when he rushed to her side to open the door, holding his hand out for her. She took it and got out of the car.

"Thank you," Iriye said. Locking up his car, his hand never left hers as he guided her inside the apartment building.

They entered his apartment, and Aaron let her step inside first. She smiled at the place once he switched on the light, which matched Aaron's energy. 

"Your place is nice. Very homey," She moved to sit on the couch.

“Thank you,” He said before stepping into the kitchen. “You want anything?”

“I’ll have whatever you are having,” Iriye said, looking around at the record collections under the TV. She saw a few books stacked neatly on his coffee table, her eyes peeping at a familiar title. She smiled to herself when Aaron came back with two glasses.

“My whiskey sours may not be as great as yours,” he said, placing the glass in her hand. She chuckled. 

“I’ll be the judge,” Iriye sipped the drink and hummed. “Just a little bit more lemon,” She moved to pull the book on the top of his stack. “How are you liking the Last Days of Ptolemy Grey,” 

“Interestingly enough, I like it. I figured I would read it first before watching. Someone has great taste in literature,” Aaron tilted his head towards her.

“I mean, I do know some things about writing,” Iriye shrugged playfully. Turning to him, she moved to make herself more comfortable but realized her boots were still on. She was about to reach down and take them off, not wanting to seem like she didn’t have any home training.

"I got you,"  Aaron said, his British accent with that deep timber of a voice. Her stomach clenched deliciously, trying to be demure. He moved to lift her legs into his lap. “May I?” Iriye was too distracted by how smooth he was, nodding her head along.

Aaron kept his eyes on her before unzipping the first boot, his thumb smoothing over the revealed skin along the way. Iriye let out a soft breath, feeling him pull the boot off. He did the other, and she kept her legs over his lap.

“Was that an excuse to keep me close?” Iriye raised a brow at him, Aaron rubbing her legs.

“Would that be so bad? To want you close, love,” Aaron questioned.

“No,” Iriye felt his hand moved to her cheek. 

“Come here,” Aaron stated, pulling her closer by her chin. She leaned in and kissed him softly for a moment. Getting reacquainted with the soft, full lips on hers, the feel of his trimmed mustache near her face. When she pulled back, he leaned his head against hers. “I’m taking this however you want to,”

“That might be the hottest thing I ever heard,” Iriye admitted, pulling him close again and kissing him. His hand moved to stroke her legs as they were on his lap. She hummed, his fingertips sending shivers up her spine. They fell into a comfortable rhythm, her hands moving to his neck and cheek. His tongue looked for permission to lick into her mouth, and she gave it to him gladly.

They continued kissing that way, tongues clashing as they moved in sync. Aaron pulled away, moving his hands to pull her closer. But Iriye stopped him, lying back on the couch.

“You look so good like this,” Aaron stated.

“I’m still in my clothes,” Iriye stated.

“Imagine what you would look like splayed here without them,” His words made her press her legs together. 

“Then get me out of them,” With those words, Aaron advanced on her, legs falling apart to fit his hips against hers. Her jean dress pushed up some, and she let her hands fall to his neck as she connected their lips again.

Aaron placed one hand by her head, not wanting to settle too much weight on her as they made out. She felt his hand trail to her thigh, and she pressed herself closer to his chest as she arched her back. 

“Aaron,” Iriye moaned against his lips, her clothes feeling too suffocating. He pulled back, and his hand went to the zipper on the front of her dress, pulling it down till the dark brown bra she wore came into view. Iriye sat up to shimmy out of her sleeves, sitting confidently as she felt Aaron’s eyes take her in.

“You’re so beautiful,” Aaron’s eyes trailed over her breast. 

“I know,” Iriye giggled. She had soft curves from pilates, and her body had changed over the years, but under his eyes, she felt even sexier. “Your turn,” She pulled at his black shirt. Aaron smirked before lifting his shirt. Iriye was trying to stop herself from watching her eyes pop out at his muscular body. His broad chest, the tiny speckle of hair leading into the dark corduroy pants he wore. It didn’t help his left arm was covered in tattoos, and Iriye needed to know how it would look around her neck in the worst way.

Aaron moved to lean down and kiss her as he pulled her closer. Her hand went between them, and she found the button to his pants. He pulled back to give her some space, her fingers quick to get the button off and his zipper down, her hand brushing against his length through his boxer briefs.

“Shit,” Aaron breathed, a grin appearing on Iriye’s face. Hearing him curse was all she needed. She brushed her hand against him again, feeling his length twitch a little. 

“You want me to touch you?” Iriye teased. Aaron kissed her again, Iriye moaning softly into his mouth. She teased her hand against him, and he pressed into it.

“Fuck yes,” Aaron stated, his resolve slowly slipping. Iriye tried to wiggle her hands into his pants, but she needed them out of the way. Aaron moved off the couch to remove his pants, the bulge even more apparent in his briefs. Before she could even marvel at it more, his hands were on her dress, pulling it down her body.

Aaron groaned as he saw how her boyshorts had a wet spot, a telltale sign of how turned on Iriye was for him. He was about to take them off when Iriye stopped him. 

“Last time, it was about me. This time, it’s about you,” Iriye stated. “Do you have condoms?”

As much as Aaron was a giver, a woman being straightforward and dominant with him was attractive. It made him want to just bend Iriye over and fuck her into the couch. But patience was key. So was protection.

“Let me go check,” Aaron got up, kissing her deeply and letting his tongue slide into her mouth, needing to after taking her whole body in. She let her nails drag against his neck, and he groaned before moving away and heading towards a door.

Iriye laid back against the couch, trying her best not to let her hand slip down between her legs and keep working herself up. But the way her clit throbbed in anticipation, she rubbed her legs together to try and calm herself down, only making it worse.

After a few minutes, she heard Aaron come back into the living room, sitting up at the frown on his face.

“I don’t have any…” Aaron rubbed his hand over his chin.

“None,” Iriye asked again.

“None,” 

Aaron gauged her face for her reaction, seeing her chuckle. 

“I don’t know if I should be happy you have none or nervous because you used them up,” Iriye shook her head. A grin went to Aaron’s face.

“I’ve been busy with work. Plus, when it comes to matters of the heart, it takes me a bit to open up,” He said as he moved to sit by her. Iriye leaned into his side. “I can go run for some,”

“It’s too late to be driving around for protection,” Iriye scratched at her scalp softly. “Honestly, maybe this is just what we needed. Let us think straight for a minute,” She said.

“Right,” Aaron agreed, even if he was looking at her lips. He leaned in to kiss her, and she let her hands slip to his neck. “There are other things we can do that don’t need condoms if you want to,”

Iriye purred at the temptation. “And what’s that?” She teased. Aaron’s hands moved to cup her ass with one big hand, and the other slipped between her legs. 

“Open up for me,” Aaron stated, and Iriye slipped her legs open as he asked. He let his hand tease the hem of her panties. 

“I was trying to take care of you first,” Iriye moaned as she felt him toying with her panties. 

“There’s this thing called doing it simultaneously,” Aaron said cheekily, and Iriye gasped at him, slapping his chest playfully. “Some even say the same time or mutual,” Iriye grasped him through his boxer briefs, and he groaned. “Shit,”

“What were you saying?” Iriye asked as she got a hold of his length and stroked him. She felt his head go on her shoulder, and then she was pushed back onto the couch. 

Aaron crawled over her till he was right between her legs, and she kept her eyes on him as she felt him finally slip his hand into her panties, his middle finger already slipping past her folds and her back arching into his hand. 

“That’s it,” Aaron moaned, slipping the finger to press against her entrance before he dipped it in, Iriye rolling her hips toward his hand. “Oh god, Aaron,” Iriye whined. She felt him thrust a single digit into her a few more times, going slow as her body worked itself up. She was getting even wetter as he watched her face, moving to kiss him deeply.

"I wanted to get you off," Iriye gasped against his lips, his finger sinking into the fleshy spot inside of her.

“Trust me, watching you get off turns me on,” He moved to kiss down the side of her neck. Those words went straight to her core, gasping as she felt him pressing a second finger inside of her, and she tried her best to recover. She loved how his fingers and hands were so big, remembering how he gripped her ass.

Iriye needed a bit more control, so she slipped her hand into his boxer briefs and was met with the leaking head of his length. She let her hand wrap around him, stroking him slowly, trying to keep up with the rhythm he was setting inside of her. She stroked her hand up upward towards the head, feeling a vein against her palm, and he groaned, his fingers stopping. Iriye giggled, seeing Aaron, who was very calm and collected, lose his cool.

“You good?” Iriye smirked. Aaron’s eyes grew darker, groaning into her mouth as he kissed her deeply. “Please Aaron… I wanna make you come,” She had ground her way to bliss, and god damn it, she needed to see what he looked like when he came. He heard her pleading and pulled his fingers out of her. 

“Afterwards, I’m tasting you,” Aaron stated matter-of-factly. “I’m clean. I can show you,” 

“Aaron…” Iriye giggled as she pushed his chest so she could get up. She moved to her knees, taking the pillow he handed her. She got herself adjusted and caught sight of him licking his fingers that had been inside of her. So, of course, she leaned up to kiss him, moaning as she tasted herself on his lips.

Iriye adjusted herself until she was comfortable, her hands going to his boxer briefs and pulling them down till his length popped up, her seeing the heavy length twitch against his stomach. She leaned forward and licked the tip, hearing the breathy moan that left his mouth as she teased the tip.

Iriye wouldn’t say she was a dick-sucking enthusiast for just anyone. She had to be comfortable with the person before she would show them how much she loved sucking dick. And it should have freaked her out that she hadn’t let Aaron take her on a proper date before she was on her knees, teasing the tip and tasting the pre cum his tip pushed out. 

Iriye played with the tip, realizing Aaron was very sensitive there quickly. She allowed herself to take the tip further into her mouth, sucking softly as she didn’t want the moment to end. There was a sweetness to his taste, and she hummed as she bobbed her head on his length.

“Fuck,” Aaron breathed, feeling her beginning to slide deeper. He knew he was slightly above average, but he didn’t want to hurt Iriye even then. His hands squeezed the couch respectfully, wishing he could grip her head. But he groaned as Iriye pulled from the tip, him looking down at her eyes as one hand focused on the tips as she began to mouth at the sides, tongue licking him like a popsicle that she wanted to melt. He saw that sparkle in her eyes as she licked back up his length. He let his hands move to the goddess locs, carefully grabbing some in his hand and guiding her when she took his length back in her mouth. He felt her trying to tease the tip again, and he tightened on her hair, not wanting to pull too hard.  

Iriye’s eyes met his, preening at how Aaron was looking. 

“Take that cock deeper, Iriye,” Aaron spoke, that South London boy coming out. She bobbed her head again, working him deeper and using her hand to stroke whatever she couldn’t fit in her mouth. She moaned around him, feeling his length twitch at the sensations. “Fuck, love,” He said. “You look so good sucking my cock,” He breathed, his eyes focused on her.

Iriye could feel her panties soaking through as she continued sucking Aaron’s dick. Hearing him groan and moan, his words turned her on as she worked herself up to relax around his length. She let the tip hit the back of her throat some, finding when she gagged on his length, his hips thrust up as he wanted to get deeper. She gagged a few more times, the gaps and moans coming out more, his fingers tightening and flexing in her hair.

Iriye pulled back, a string of saliva attaching to her lip from his length. She stroked him, looking up into Aaron’s eyes.

“Don’t hold back. Take what you want from me,” She playfully winked before moving to suck his length back in, gagging twice around his length before she swallowed him, sucking on him. Aaron let off grunts and whines as he thrusts up into her mouth a few times, gasps coming with every movement until she felt the warm cum spill down her throat. As much as she wanted to choke on his cock, Aaron pulled up, his length twitching and coming a little on her lips as she stroked him. 

“Iriye,” He moaned as she attempted to clean off the tip of his cock, Aaron still sensitive. She let her tongue out, hoping to catch some more spurts of cum on her lips before she swallowed.

Aaron watched on as the woman who was so confident and could command a room swallowed his cum, feeling so satisfied as she did so. It was so fucking nasty and hot.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Aaron breathed before kissing her, licking into her mouth to catch a taste of her and his cum on her tongue.

Iriye moaned into the kiss, whining as she was so turned on for more. 

“Come up here,” Iriye felt him manhandle her up off her knees and turn her to suit up against the couch. She couldn’t help but giggle as Aaron had to push the coffee table back across the floor so he would have more room on the ground. “Something funny?”

“Not at all,” Iriye said, the man a giant in his home. He grinned up at her before kissing the inside of her right thigh, playfully biting at her. She let out a moan. He kissed down till he made it to her center. He then moved onto the next thigh, kissing up till he pulled back, his hands tucked into her panties.

“Yeah, you’re not gonna need these,” Aaron chuckled, moving to pull them off. Iriye’s most delicate parts of herself were revealed, and she moved to lift her legs so she could take her socks off. 

“I’m not gonna need these either,” She teased. But she quickly shut up as Aaron sniffed her panties.

“You smell so good,” Aaron chuckled, throwing her panties into his pants. Iriye figured she wasn’t getting them back, and honestly, she wasn’t mad at it. Panties were replaceable, but Aaron smelling hers was not.

Iriye let Aaron hook his hands under the back of her knees, propping her open for him like a feast.

“Let me know what feels good,” Aaron said as he looked at her. Iriye nodded. He kept her eyes on her as he swiped his tongue slowly through her lower lips, collecting the sweet juices, a moan rolling out of her.  He repeated the motion a few more times, every swipe causing her back to arch and her moans to float in the air, but it wasn’t enough.

“Aaron,” She whined softly. “I need more,” He heard her words, and she felt the two fingers he used inside of her teasing her slit. She pressed her hips down, wanting to slide onto them, but Aaron held her thighs back.

“I let you have your fun. Now let me have mine, sweetheart,” Aaron spoke. She saw his smile and let him get away with talking to her like that. His fingers slipped into her pussy, and she arched her back, almost shutting her legs around him. “Nah, keep them open for me,” He said. 

Iriye was holding them, but Aaron guided one leg to his shoulder and then the other, caging him in. His fingers began searching for that fleshy spot inside of her; Iriye whined as she felt him hitting spots along the way.

“Oh my god,” Iriye moaned as she realized he wasn’t going to stop, especially as he found her g spot again. She rolled her hips against his fingers, hearing how wet and gushy he was making her pussy for him.

“That feels good to you, Iriye,” Aaron asked, his lips kissing her thighs. Her moans were enough answers for him, the tiny twitches in her thighs. But he knew she needed more. “Tell me, baby,”

“Your mouth,” She cried. “I need your mouth… this is not enough to make me come… please,” She said between breathy moans and gasps.

Aaron obliged her, his lips sealing around her swollen clit and sucking it to find the proper pressure. It took him a few moments to try to see what Iriye wanted. What sent her hips surging to his face or gave him nothing, but he loved discovering a lover’s body.

“Oh shit,” Iriye knew when she cursed during sex, something was being done right. She moved to look down, seeing his lips sucking her clit as his fingers rubbed a path inside of her. She moved to let her hands run over his scalp, her nails dragging up and down his scalp.

“Aaron,” She cried, his name a mantra she would repeat if it meant he never stopped. She felt him stop sucking her clit before she caught a peek of his tongue beginning to flick at her clit; short cries left her body as he moved his tongue with precision, almost pornstar levels even. “Oh fuck!” She whined, more words falling out as he moved his fingers in tandem with his tongue. She would gladly pay the toll if this were payback for the teasing.

Iriye continued to roll her hips toward his hand as he fucked her with his fingers, tongue flicking and sucking at her clit. He pulled back for a moment.

“You’re gonna come for me?” He asked her, almost a plea for her. She looked into the darkening hazel eyes and nodded. 

“I will! I will!” She wanted to scream. She would do anything for him.

“Good,” Aaron moved his to flick and suck at her clit as his fingers moved to usher her orgasm forward. At first, it felt like a tug-o-war, a push and pull for it to come forward. She let herself fall into it, the first crescendo warning her of what was to come, quite literally. She threw her head back before focusing on him, licking her lips and whining out as another thrust of his fingers and the gates flooded. Short cries became gasps and moans as her orgasm rushed in, and she came, her juices flowing down her pussy, and she felt her walls sporadically tightening around Aaron. 

Instead of letting her enjoy the fall, Aaron continued to work her through it, seeing how good she tasted and how she reacted to being overstimulated. It was almost too much as he sucked her clit, rubbing at her g-spot. She wanted to close her legs, but Aaron had her spread and locked in with his shoulders.

Iriye whined as he prolonged her orgasm, her nails scratching at his bare shoulders until she tapped him.

“Aaron,” She whined, feeling him finally let up off of her clit, and she felt him work her down with his fingers, her juices sliding down his fingers and wrist. She sighed as she slumped against the couch, his fingers sliding out of her. Aaron trailed his hand, wet with her juices, up her body until he teased her lips with them. She grinned and opened her mouth, letting him slide them in so she could suck her juices off of him, mimicking how she suckled his dick before. 

Aaron straightened up, their lips connected passionately as Iriye let her hands wrap around his neck, him leaning into her. She giggled as she could feel him and her pussy clenched, 

“How you feel, love?” Aaron asked her, pushing one of her goddess locs behind her ear.

“Good,” Iriye hated that she had no words except that, but he gave her the feeling. She couldn’t wipe the grin from her face. 

“You sure you’re a writer cause good,” Iriye swiped at Aaron’s face. 

“You play too much. To think I wanted to give you morning head,” Iriye leaned back, and he followed her, his head leaving between her clothed breast.

“You want to give me morning head?” Aaron questioned her.

“I did, but that’s only if we head to sleep,” Iriye challenged him. Aaron moved to hoist her in his arms, Iriye giggling as she wrapped her arms and legs around him, letting him carry her towards his room.

After cleaning themselves up in his bathroom, Iriye was currently in one of his shirts; her five foot eight stature and curvy waist had his shirt hitting right at the top of her thighs and giving a little peek at the bottom of her ass. She forgone her underwear as Aaron repeated that he wouldn’t give them back. She threatened to take his underwear but knew if she took them off of him again, the snake between his legs would not be going to bed. Tangled up in each other arms in his bed, both talking about whatever came to mind

“I honestly haven’t had a reason to need condoms,” Aaron mentioned, Iriye looking up at him. 

“Really?” Iriye said. “I would think it was being thrown at you,”

“It is,” Aaron admitted, and Iriye raised a brow. “But that’s not me,” He stated honestly.  Iriye propped herself up on his chest some. 

“Pussy being thrown at you doesn’t suit you,” Iriye teased, hoping a red flag popped up. Because he was so unreal. “You have an arm tattoo, Jamaican, and a Gemini. You could have anyone dropping the draws with just one look,” Iriye joked, and Aaron looked at her.

“I could have anyone, but at the end of the day, I want someone who wants me. Who chooses me. Not just anyone,” Aaron stated. There was a truth and a depth there that she loved seeing. Iriye leaned forward and kissed him softly.

“I’m sure you’ll find that,” Iriye yawned. 

“What are you looking for?” Aaron asked her. She thought about it for a moment. 

“Someone who can love my ugly parts,” Iriye explained. “Someone who can be around me not only during the good times but the bad times,” 

“Well, I hope you get that,” Aaron stated, his hand rubbing her back some. They lay in comfortable silence, Iriye hoping that what he said was true. That she would ge tit. She hoped for a second… she would have it with Aaron. @wildwomanalereyia @teenage-aria @skvrpion @absentmindeddreamer @blackpinup22 @liv10002 @styleismyaddiction @jungwonsgfs @hooliemooliedonutshawp @hippiesandpeacesigns @blowmymbackout @justagirlwho-believes13 @caribbeangyalsworld @melovedorks @moihasarrived @ashanti-notthesinger @xx-mintyxx @iluvchrisbrown @ash-ketchumzzz @deijalee @pyramidlight @xosharieee @kaylaahisthebestest- @chaniceandrea @kimmivlixx @saveadanc @kaylalb @queenbritbrat @kceeee @naughtynolly-blog @myawesome56 @chainingxday @nononoks-blog @kinginwithbreezy-blog @apple123cg @jazziejax @lauren1000000 @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @venusincleo @loveschrisbrown20 @brwnskingirlll @iamfredtina @cozyashhh @modelmemoirs @kimiasinterlude @rpayn22 @mscarter123 @lolola22267 @thesweetestdrug @valarghoulis @nyifly22 @zimsilandela @teheeboo @blveeeeeee @5starsirl @yassbishimvintage @23jammy @prettiegal @vadeadiugularis @gabbywontlose @pinkkycherrish @slashervalley @aqueenwasmadehere @lee-jennie @wuzzzgoood