#man my hand hurts after coloring this but it was worth it

[illshakeyouallnightlong-dean]

Take Me To The Sun (Rewritten)

I know everything. The things beyond weapons drops across the border. And yet I stay quiet. Until I can't. Being a marked one, being a friend of Xaden Riorson doesn't mean I am granted unfiltered access to information of what goes on beyond Navarre's walls. But it should when lives are lost and rules change. My compassion doesn't make me weak. My dragon chose me. I am meant for more.

A/N: This fic is updated on my AO3 as well. Here. Happy Reading! Gonna try to update once or twice a week but as you know, life happens so we'll see! xoxo K

The quadrant is in chaos. 

Finding out who is alive, who we all lost - it’s a mess. The only thing I can focus on, however, is the fact that they aren’t back. 

He isn’t back. 

I wish I could comfort you, flare. Rathnait whispers to me in the library of my mind. For a brief moment, guilt consumes me. Gripping my throat with the threat of tears and a scream. A failure of a rider -  not able to even give her a reprieve from the onslaught of my emotions. That she must feel it all with me down our bad. 

A low growl as she narrows those golden eyes of her’s at me. Talons tick nervously on the flight field, vigilant over my every move and breath. All I can do is stare at my dragon vacantly. Streaks of dark copper highlighted her grace, her beauty - running down the length of her neck and down each of her legs. Rathnait was a sight to behold, and I was only grateful to be considered worthy to be hers. Her scarlet colored scales glistened in the setting sun, as if mirroring the sun itself in all its bright glory. Her swordtail flicked in the air back and forth, as if it were involuntary. We must not get ahead of ourselves, you would feel it if something happened to him. Don’t you dare assume what I can and can’t handle. Shutting me out only hurts you in the end.

My shaky hands outstretch, desperation to run them against the warmth of her scales. Her nose to my chest, needing to feel the steadiness of her breath on my clammy self. She nudges me gently, trying all she can to ground my spiraling thoughts. 

How could this be happening? How did it come to this? All that will be left is bitter words and unspoken longing for a man who didn’t choose me.

~

“Xaden is already bending the rules with bringing Violet along, I can’t ask him to risk your well being as well,” Garrick murmurs in my ear as we watch the tense showdown between Dain and Xaden. Ignoring the sting in my chest is a feat itself, having to wrinkle my nose to rid myself of  the tears that threaten to fall.

“You're not even gonna try, after everything? You just expect me to watch you go? You’ve been keeping secrets, Garrick. This seems like part of one of them.” Stepping away from his hold, the warmth long gone from the two of us. My desire to punch him, to yell at him at the very least - gods why doesn’t he ever choose me? 

Rathnait glowers at both Garrick and Chradh, his brown scorpion tail - the irritation evident in her golden gaze. Unrelenting. Every tone, every unsaid word she analyzes and catalogues. Watching me get hurt right before her very eyes, and not in a physical way is something she doesn’t stand for. Teeth as sharp as steel snap towards Chradh, the brown dragon pulls away in shock towards the obvious display of aggression. Garrick’s jaw shuts and clenches at the show the dragons are putting on, his ever composed features faltering at the anguish I knew he could see in my eyes, could hear in my voice. 

Just say the word, flare. I’ll teach him to treat you with more care. Rathnait snarls at Chradh as he tries to nudge her affectionately. I don’t want to put her in an uncomfortable position, to push away her growing care for Chradh. You let me worry about that. Chradh knows you are the one I chose, the one I will always look out for.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish we had time to talk more, but right now I would rather know you’re safe with the rest of your squad. Your anger towards me is worth it if I am guaranteed your survival,” I watch as he makes sure his flight gloves are secure, flexing them before flickering those earth toned eyes towards me. My heart cracks a little bit more - all I want to do is scream. To shove him and get him to see that this is hurting me, is crushing me. How much more can I let slide? How much more can I take?

“And what about you? What if you don’t come back?” The very thought is enough to have my knees lock and heart stutter. 

Xaden and Violet make their way towards their dragons. Squads have begun to launch to their respective posts. Dain and I are being waited upon by Second Squad. 

“I’ve survived too much to lose now. I’ll be back and we can talk - I’ll tell you everything,” Garrick promises, stepping forward to plant a soft kiss on my temple. Clutching his flight jacket, I can’t help it as tears fall down my cheeks. 

“It seems like you might lose me though.”

 Turning around to follow my squad leader, ignoring the curses from Garrick, ignoring the way in which my squad watches me with grimaces and pity. All for fucking War Games, all for nothing. Being co-section leader means nothing to me, Dain can be in charge for all I care. Steps that feel like bricks on my feet, it’s all the energy I can muster towards the group, needing the familiar, needing their constant. Ridoc opens his arms, bringing me in for a brief tight embrace. Sawyer offers a wavering smile.

“Are you gonna be ok?” Rhiannon softly asks, wiping my wet cheeks with her hands. A shaky smile graces my lips, hands busy with making sure my own flight jacket and gloves are secure. It takes everything in me to not watch Garrick and Chradh take to the sky, having to believe that he’ll be ok, it’s all that I can allow myself to think of. 

Xaden didn’t even glance my way, Imogen or Bodhi - no one. As if the rest of the marked one’s had decided together who should and shouldn’t go. Guess I made the cut. My own relic curved over my fingers and wrist - briefly burning as if answering to my very thoughts. 

“Let’s go get this over with.” Quickly scaling up Rathnait, she chuffs at me, making sure I’m secure in my seat. Let’s go flying, Ray. Take me towards the sun. Sending my devotion to her down our bond. She launches quickly, wings flaring gloriously. The rest of the squad is quick to follow. 

I’ll always make sure you’re near it, flare. The light will never die in you, not even from this pain. 

At least she always chooses me. 

~

It’s been 10 days. 10 days of agony. 

I’m the only third year left. 

Expected to carry on my co-section leader responsibilities as if the absence of Garrick is a minor inconvenience. The early sun rises with a flourish of pinks, reds and oranges and all I can do is relish in this fleeting moment of peace. 

No one seems to care or notice that they aren’t back yet. My only anchor, my only comfort is from that of my dragon. Spending many hours against the curve of her back, staring up at the sky in hopes of seeing or hearing familiar dragons, of hearings wings. When I’m not near her, our bond is wide open. The familiar fire red tether in my mind ablaze with every thought and emotion that runs through us. A warmth of what I could only describe as security floods down the bond. 

We can’t worry about things that haven’t been confirmed yet, flare. She knows my true questions, the things that I can’t bring myself to ask or think about. You must think about today, where we will go. 

Graduation day. 

Today would be the day we’ve been waiting for since entering this school, assignments to outposts were being given, and by this evening I would be gone, my journey at Basgaith over. Turning away from the river, I make my trek towards the flight field. The few third years left of this school congregate, awaiting as Colonel Aetos and Commandant Pancheck begin the assignments. 

“Congrats on graduating, Section Leader. It is a shame that Wingleader Riorson and Section Leader Tavis aren’t here to accompany you.” Colonel Aetos nearly sneers at the mention of Xaden. The obvious disdain is unsettling as he rifles through different papers. “Ah yes, your assignment. Due to your signet and the savagery of your red swordtail - you’re being assigned to the eastern wing…specifically, Samara.” The grin directed at me is maniacal, a joke I’m not privy too, a dare. Rathnait snarls in my mind, unbridled rage igniting the very blood in my veins - but all I can do is take the papers from his hand, saluting in acknowledgement and walking away.

Where are you, Ray?  Hands tremble, the crinkling of paper beneath slender hands is all I can focus on as I sprint towards my room. Can’t be out in the open, can’t let them see, can’t let anyone see what will surely be my own falling apart. My own demise. 

You will not fall apart. An outpost is just a different place, as if you haven’t endured years of people hating the very ground you stand on. As if you haven’t been bonded to me. 

I make it to the middle of an empty hall that leads towards our sleeping quarters, knowing in a matter of moments the rest of the cadets will be awake to get into formation. Pressing the heels of my hand into my eyes, I can’t help but rest my back against the cool stone behind me. My own body feeling as if it had everything sucked out of me, the very air I breath feels strained.  

Samara is the front line. Trying to get the ever rising beat of my heart under control, I must not panic. I am a rider. I am Rathnait’s rider.

Are you afraid, flare? I shudder at her question, not wanting to admit the fear, the panic. But I know that she can feel everything, hear all that I think. 

They aren’t here. He isn’t here. A whimper escapes my lips, the reality of it all just crashing down like rubble. I will be going to Samara, there is no avoiding it, there is no changing it. While I had spent years trying to survive Basgaith, I would be sent to one of the most active posts in the region. 

“Section Leader? Ar-are you ok?” Dain Aetos stands before me, hands out as if approaching a scared animal. “We need to get to formation.”

I don't hate the kid, knowing that following the straight and narrow path is the life that is meant for some people over others. However, that doesn’t mean I want him to see me having a mental breakdown. Giving him a small nod, I manage to get myself to stand before fully looking at the Squad Leader. 

Something’s wrong. My own senses are beginning to go haywire. My signet. Only Xaden and Garrick knew. Command and Basgaith are under a different impression as to what it is. None of the other marked ones knew either. The manipulation and detection of emotions however was a daily venture, there was no turning it off, there was only controlling it and living with it and right now Dain Aetos was a mess. 

“I would ask you the same thing, what’s wrong?” Dusting off my flight leathers. I don’t miss the way he flinches at my question, his hesitancy. “Do I have to give an order to know?” Glowering at him - I am still a section leader. 

Taking a deep breath, he stands tall despite the sorrow in his eyes, “Xaden and the rest of the squad he took with him are being declared dead at formation.” I startle myself at the immediate sob that escapes my lips. My body has accepted what my mind cannot. “Leadership has been looking and there is no sign of them.” Feeling the agony of his own loss, it feels as if a tidal wave has pulled me under. The roaring from Rathnait in my brain feels as if it will explode any second. Dain’s grief, his regret all barrel into me with no filter, no shield. Rathnait’s confusion and rage down the bond. My own sorrow, my own heartbreak. There is no stopping it. There just is feeling it. Unaware of the stream of tears that roll down my face, the taste of salt jolts me out of the shock, the horror. 

“Round up everyone, squad leader. I’ll be at formation in a moment.” My voice doesn’t feel like my own, the assignment papers feeling like large weights in my hand. He turns away to head towards the Quadrant, “Dain,” I call out, sounding like a garbled mess. “Thank you for telling me.” His own eyes glisten with unshed tears as he nods. 

My flare. I hear her call out, though to reach out seems like so much energy, all I can do is let her in with no barriers, allowing her to be there in the comfort of my mind. I’m coming, flare. 

Standing at the bottom of the stone dias. Everyone in formation, I don’t bother to look around. There is no one here to look for anymore. There is no Wingleader, there is no co-section leader - there is just me alone at the front. 

We don’t even have our leader. What hope is there for the revolution? Rathnait has no answer for me. 

To look at my squad is the last thing I am able to do, not being able to endure their unsaid questions. Answers? I had none. Being known for being put together, not a hair out of place, no rumpled leathers, no dirt unless necessary was once a pride and pleasure I reveled in. I’m sure the current state of me was a shock. Strands of hair fell in front of my face, eyes dry and cheeks raw from the tears. 

Captain Fitzgibbons overlooks formation, reading off the death roll. “Violet Sorrengail.” A moment of silence as all eyes look to the stoic face of General Sorrengail. “Garrick Tavis.” My heart feels as if it bleeds on the very floor I'm standing on, flinching harshly at the reading of his name. “And Xaden Riorson.” Captain Fitzgibbon’s voice rings out echoing around the quadrant. 

“Well this is awkward,” a voice calls out. Gasps are heard around the quadrant, even command seems unsettled by what’s happening. My knees seem to be locked in place, unable to turn around and see what is going on. My breaths turn into small gasps of air - no no no it can’t be, I’m dreaming. Dain said. I need to wake up. Heavy footsteps approach behind me, and two individuals take up position on either side of me. A calloused hand brushes against my own. 

~

Angry steps make their way towards the leaders seated at the dias. Xaden Riorson commands the very space, as if he were part of leadership. Violet Sorrengail makes her stand next to me, and the presence of the person on the right of me is one I can’t pay attention to - no matter how badly I want to turn and look, no matter how badly I want to cry. Colonel Aetos is furious, cheeks flushed and furrowed brows do no favors as General Sorrengail questions everything that has been happening since the start of War Games. All directed towards the fumbling Colonel and Xaden.

“I was directed to take a squad beyond the wards to Athebyne and form the headquarters for Fourth Wing’s War Games, and I did so. We stopped to rest our riot at the nearest lake past the wards, and we were attacked by gryphons.” Xaden states, fists at his side as he looks at both General Sorrengail and Colonel Aetos. “It was a surprise attack, and they caught Deigh and Fuil unaware.” He pivots slightly, telling the wing the rest of what we don’t know. “They were dead before they ever had a chance.” My Wingleader looks at my briefly for the first time in what seems like years, for a moment there is a crack in his ever perfect expression. 

I must have blinked, I must’ve staggered. My knees crash against the hard floor for a moment before arms reach themselves around my waist to hoist me up. We lost Liam? We lost Soleil? Unable to hear anything other than the rushing of my own blood through my very veins, the beat of my heart as if it were to come out of my chest. Violet flits her hands around my face, her mouth moving but for the life of me I don’t know what she’s saying. 

Liam was so good. Too good. And just like that he is gone? 

“And we almost lost Sorrengail.” 

Violet’s eyes widen as she takes in the horror in my eyes. My friends were in trouble and I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there. Tears blur my vision, and all I can do is breathe through the rattling in my chest. 

I will never forgive you. Pushing the thought towards Xaden. Watching as his spine stiffens, for a brief moment the hurt is detectable in those onyx depths, but in a blink it vanishes. 

“Breathe,” a warm voice whispers against my ear, “ Or you’ll pass out.” The emotions of everyone in the quadrant are too much. However, Garrick Tavis’ were always those of beacons to me - I was nothing more than a boat lost at sea in this very moment. And yet how do I differentiate between him and me and our emotions when all this time I thought he was dead? I thought he was never to come back? How do I ever look at him the same way after leaving me behind? “Let go of me,” shrugging myself out of his hold, I get back into proper formation. Violet watches warily, unsure of what to do. “Go help our Wingleader, Cadet Sorrengail.” Anguish flickers from her emotional tether, being dismissed was something she didn’t think I would ever do to her. To treat her as a lesser. However, in this very moment, the very reality I have endured through seems pointless. There is no belonging to the marked one’s or to a cause or to the protection of Violet and Xaden. There is nothing but the chasm in my chest at every word being revealed, at every tether holding loss and grief. And the worst part of it all is that in a matter of less than 12 hours none of this will matter, Basgiath won’t matter - I will be long gone, a new post, a new death sentence. Like always, being forced to move on. 

Making myself numb is a simple yet effective aspect of my second signet. The dying of emotions is a strange and vacant liminal space in my mind. Gone are the bright hues within the library. The dimming of my own tether to Rathnait. The rest of questioning -  I don’t bother with the insistent touching from Garrick as he tries to get my attention. I don’t bother with the few glances from Xaden, and unfortunately I can’t be open to the bond between Rathnait and I - my cruel humanity unable to withstand her words at this moment despite her numerous attempts of ramming against my shields. I know it isn’t her fault, this hurt and sense of loss that I feel - but I’d rather be alone. 

With dismissal from command, Xaden and Violet get back into formation. There are words exchanged between them and Dain, but again why does any of it matter anymore? As Captain Fitzgibbons calls out the additional names to the amended death roll, there are no tears shed, there is only silence, deathly still silence. Commandant Panchek takes the stand and addresses what is left of the riders remaining. “Beyond military commendations, there are no words of praise for rider. Our reward for a job well done is living to see the next duty station, the next rank. In keep with our traditions and standards, those of you who have completed your third year will now be commissioned as lieutenants in the army of Navarre. Step forward when your name is called to receive your orders. You have until morning to depart for your new duty stations.” 

The orders I received earlier feel like lead against my breast pocket. I had received mine earlier as a taunt, a warning since command had already believed that my Wingleader and his squad were dead. My duty station was punishment for whatever it was that Xaden and Garrick had been involved in, what they are still involved in. 

“Garrick Tavis!” My heart feels like it lodges itself in my throat, as if it were to splatter all over the floor as I look at him, fully look at him for the first time in days as he strides towards the commandant. A new scar lines from his jaw to his temple, deep and red - fresh. His wide strong frame grabs the paper and lets out a breath as he reads the duty station he is assigned to before looking at me as he makes his way back to formation. For the first time, I note an emotion that is rare from him, from someone I have come to know as unwavering. 

He’s scared. Garrick Tavis is afraid. 

~

A resounding cheer goes up in the courtyard as we are dismissed from formation. Everyone has their new orders and I watch as Ridoc, Sawyer, Nadine and Violet gather each other into a hug. Liam should be here with them too, I can’t help but think. Soleil should be graduating with us. Violet tries to catch my gaze but I am not one for appeasing our lightening wielder tonight. A tall figure blocks my vision of the squad, and I know who it is without having to truly look up and see.

“Wingleader,” I nod, staring blankly across his shoulder. “What can I help you with?” 

Xaden raises his hands as if to grip my shoulder, or Malek forbid, pull me into a hug. He must second guess himself though as he falters and his hand hangs limply at his side. “We need to talk, the three of us. And I’m no longer your Wingleader, we’re equals. We made it, flare.” 

Whipping my gaze at him, lips pulled in a snarl. “Don’t. I was never your equal, I was someone who helped you all get away with whatever bullshit it is you’re doing. I was the scapegoat. I was the distraction.” With each word, rage bellows in my belly. My shields must be faltering between Rathnait and I, because I feel like decking him, hurting him. I don’t bother lowering my volume, all sense of decorum out the window as cadets make their way across the quadrant. “I’m not even your friend.” 

Xaden flinches at that. 

“That’s not fair, sweetheart,” A raspy deep voice comes from behind me, calloused hands attempt to grab my own. Ripping them out of his grasp, I can’t help but ram my elbow into his side, the sound of wheezing only slightly satisfying. Xaden attempts to help him but the glare I pin at him leaves him immobilized . 

“What is not fair, sweetheart, is being left behind. Is not being there to help. Is not being trusted after everything I’ve told you out of faith!” Whirling around to face him, Garrick struggles to fully stand upright after my jab. “And now it doesn’t even matter. Excuse me, I have to go pack.” 

Hurt. Regret. All that I can feel from the two shocked idiots. 

****

Shutting me out isn’t the answer, flare. Rathnait snarls in my mind. There is nothing my dragon hates more than to be purposely shutout from me. If I can’t reach your during moments of distress, how can I help you?

Sometimes I don’t want help, Ray. Sometimes I just have to feel it. Folding the rest of my clothes and putting away what few belongings I do have, I’m able to rest for a moment on the bed. The wooden figurine of Rathnait sits on the window, all I can do is watch it. 

Liam was so sweet. Eager to please, eager to excel - and training him was something that I actually found fun. He was the little brother I never had. Someone who could bring me back down from the emotional highs, someone who made me laugh when all Xaden and Garrick wanted to do was be serious. When he made the figurine of my dragon, Rathnait herself chuffed in amusement at how endearing she found Liam. He was just so filled with light that this hellhole had to swallow it up and take it away. It wasn’t fair. 

A knock echoes throughout the empty room. Already knowing what is to come, I steel myself for the inevitable emotional onslaught. Adjusting my new officer flight leathers, I wave my finger to open the door, staying close to the window. 

Both Garrick and Xaden are dressed in their new flight leathers as well. A pack and sleeping pad hitched over their shoulders. Remorse written all over their faces I don’t even have to use my signet for that. 

“Is it ok if we talk in here?” Xaden asks. Yelling from the graduated cadets echo throughout the halls, celebration in all forms was everywhere tonight. Glancing away from their hesitant stares, the sound barrier shimmers slightly overhead as Xaden shuts the door. With a heavy, burdened sight, he slides against the door and sits on the floor, legs outstretched. It’s the least put together I’ve seen from him. Garrick sits on the bed, glancing at the wooden figurine with a wavering smile before glancing at me. I don’t make a move to sit by him, my arms cross as I lean against the window bay. No one says a word. The friendship the three of us had, seems like it teeters on the edge of the cliff. Well it seems like I’m the one starting this.

“I thought you were all dead. That all I had left was the memory of disagreeing with Garrick before War Games and watching my Wingleader not spare me a second glance as he makes his squad when I was meant to be a section leader as well.” Bland words escape me, trying to say something other than the yelling that I want to dish out to them. “And knowing I didn’t even get to see Liam before he -“ I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’ve never asked, Xaden. I’ve never demanded Garrick tell me when I could easily hold it against him as someone he supposedly cared a lot about-“

“Care.” Garrick interrupts. Leaving no room for argument. “I care a lot about you, sweetheart. More than that. Don’t blame Xaden when I am just as much a part of this as he is. Be mad at me too.” His hazel eyes blaze with a fight I know he’s aching for. To yank the deadened words from my lips with something fiery, something that feels like more. Garrick doesn’t know what he’s asking for.

“You don’t think I’m mad at you too? Tavis, I am furious. I am heartbroken. I was resigned to a life without you, and now?” Gasping for air, I pound my chest for some sort of relief from the tightness I feel. Garrick is quick to try and help me but I raise my hand, ordering him wordlessly to stay put. 

“There are a lot of things I regret,” Xaden rasps, “You helped me, confided in me - and I didn’t do the same thing to you.” 

“I was ready to fight alongside the two of you if you had told me to. I would meet Malek with honor. I may not be like you or Imogen or Bodhi - that everything I feel is so much and bleeds with every word I say or person I interact with - “

“No, flare that’s no-“

“You act like I’m not even a marked one. That I am not a part of what you all are planning. I’m kept in the shadows so that command never suspects you all. You asked me to help train Violet. You asked me to be a constant, to be unwavering. For what? To be forgotten?” With each question, my shouts echo throughout my bedroom. Neither of them are able to meet my eyes. “I would die for Aretia.” The whisper in to the space between us hits their mark. The full realization of what I know - the understanding, make it’s way across their expressions, their emotions. Xaden rakes his fingers through his hair, clutching it almost painfully. Garrick staggers slightly, holding himself up by clutching the bed post. “And now? It’s too late. I have my duty station. Basgaith is done. My journey here is done.” 

I brush my signet along their emotional tethers, unable to break the habit of comforting them ever so slightly. Understanding that the two of them lost their brother, lost people that were a part of them. Garrick lets out a shaky laugh as he feels the familiar sensation of soothingness. 

“H-How did you know about that?” Garrick questions, eyes finally roaming over me in disbelief. 

“Did you not think I would know every time you would lie to me? That the drops you were making were all that you were doing? I don’t know anything else but the restoration of home, of our home? How could you not think I would defend that with every ounce of my life for you?” 

“It was never because I didn’t trust you.” Xaden looks at me with a resolve I don’t understand. He gets up slowly, standing tall. “If anything it was because I didn’t want to chance losing someone else we all cared about to. We lost Liam and Soleil too easily. I lost them. I’m the one who is responsible for you all.” 

Truth. Feeling his honesty. Feeling his belief. 

“Flare, if were to lose someone like you, too? You’re glue, you’re binding. You’re a bridge. The same way that Violet is.  You bring Navarre and Tyrrendor together with your compassion. With your grace and spirit. When others look at you, they don’t see a marked one. They see more.” A knuckle taps against his flight leather pants in agitation. "I took a chance and made a mistake and I’ll never be able to earn that trust back. But look into my tether and now that I’m so fucking sorry. That I fucked up.” Xaden pleads, “And selfishly I was looking out for my brother, knowing that if he lost you? There was nothing in this world that would bring him back.” His voice cracks as he looks over at Garrick, a hand on his broad shoulders. “I’d rather you be alive and hate me, whereas dead and I lose the two of you in the process.” 

A shudder makes it’s way past my lips, tears trailing down my cheeks. I felt exhausted, I felt confused and scared and so many other things and all because we we’re so fucking human it seemed like despite my signet, despite my bond with a dragon - I was still so susceptible to human experiences and emotions. 

“I’m being assigned to Samara,” I tell them, not being able to dance around that any longer. Both of them look at me with wide bloodshot eyes. 

“Say that again?” Garrick demands, making his way towards me. 

“Samara is my new duty station?” Confused as to their reactions. “I was assigned my station before the official formation. It’s a death sentence, one they thought they could give me since they thought you were dead and I was a loose end towards command.” 

Garrick and Xaden smile, both blinding and perfect. Garrick for the first time in what seems like ages, swoops me into his arms, clutching me tightly as he cradles the nape of my neck. He shakes in my hold, as if whatever energy he feels is suddenly constrained in his body. 

“We’ve been assigned there as well, we didn’t get to chose our station. I guess they forgot that they had put you there too,” Xaden laughs, watching the disbelief as I realize what this means. 

“You’re gonna be with me?” I whimper towards Garrick, burrowing my face into the crook of his neck feeling the tidal wave of emotions of all three of us. 

“Never leaving you, sweetheart.” He laughs again, rubbing his hands along my back, clutching my hair, doing anything he can to just touch me. It’s been ages since we’ve been near each other like this. I can feel Rathnait chuff in the back of my mind, her also understanding that she gets Chradh with her as well. 

“We get a second chance,” Xaden grins, although I know he means it more towards himself. 

“If by second chance you mean I get to be in, full in. Than yes,” I demand, untangling myself from Garrick, to look at both of them. Garrick clutches his hand in mine tightly. 

“You’re in, flare. However much you want to be involved in. Garrick and I will tell you everything, and from there -“ He nervously wavers, “From there you can fully decide what it is you want to do. There is no one else I’d rather station and fight alongside with than with you two. The three of us entered Basgiath together, we leave together.” 

Opening my arms, he rolls his eyes playfully - ever the grump. Garrick and I pull Xaden into our embrace, clutching each other tightly with relief. We weren't gonna go through death alone, we weren’t gonna suffer alone. Samara was meant to be our death sentence but maybe, just maybe - it wouldn’t be so bad. 

[witherby]

do you think that the batfam has different ways of explaining their bruises/injuries they get from crimefighting to an observant mouse? 👼👼👼

--🎆

Fantastic question! I think growing up in Wayne Manor would make it exceptionally difficult to hide the vigilantism from you. They could 100% do it, but it would take about a thousand times more effort concealing it from you than the general public, so I don't think they would.

You're very young when you start really piecing it together, though, so they're gonna have to tell you what happened in child-friendly ways.

The Littlest Wayne: Post-Battle Injuries

1. Bruce

"Wha' happen, daddy?"

This man is not a good liar, but he dodges the truth like it's an Olympic sport. Like any public figure worth their salt, he's gonna answer the question without answering the question.

"Well, when Daddy has to go be Batman, sometimes he gets hurt. The boo-boos will go away after a while, and everything is going to be fine. You'll have to hug gently for a few days."

What he doesn't say is that he took a toyota corolla pushing 70 to the ribs and can feel the broken bones shifting and rubbing together like wet chopsticks under his skin, it's fucking nauseating, and he needs to go pass out as soon as he puts you down for a nap.

2. Dick

"Uh-oh, Dinky hurty?"

If Bruce is admired for keeping his cool in the wake of grievous injury, then Dick wrote the fucking book on it. His picture shows up when you google "gaslight gatekeep girlboss." He could lose a limb and convince you it's always been like that with a straight face. You'll never catch his ass lacking.

"Dinky fell down," he says easily, scooping you into his arms, "but he's fine! See? All okay!" His face doesn't even twitch from all his wounds getting aggravated. There is shrapnel embedded in his back from being thrown through a window and tumbling down the roof. The broken-off blade of a knife is jammed up in his thigh. His right hand has lost all feeling in it from blocking a pipe getting swung at him. There are black spots in his vision. He's lost so much blood it's nothing short of divine intervention keeping him conscious.

You'd bet your ass if you need him to go sprint a 10k right now, though, he's lacing up his tennis shoes.

3. Tim

"Timmy, what wrong?"

He's gonna tell you the truth, and he's the only one that'll tell you the truth. He'll just omit the gorey bits because they're not beneficial to you.

"Oh, this? Bad guy got me good with his knife. It hurts a lot so don't touch it... I just said don't touch it...okay fine, go wash your hands first before you touch it."

He didn't like being kept out of the loop as a child, especially a child that had to raise himself, so he tells you about anything and everything you ask. He'll tell you what medical supplies he's grabbing and why. He'll tell you his estimated recovery time. He'll tell you what wounds the others have, if any. He'll let you touch the safe tools, like gauze and bandages and antibiotic ointment. He'll show you how to apply them, too, and then quickly take you to the sink to wash the blood from your hands.

4. Jason

"Jay-Jay ouchies?"

He's the most unintentionally awkward about it. I think being brought back to life in the Lazarus Pit really fucked up his ability to feel pain. The major injuries still sting — gunshots, stabs, broken bones — but bruises and black eyes and sprains fly under the radar very often.

"Uh, no," he shrugs, looking at the myriad of colorful bruising you just pointed out on his arm. "No ouchies." He's not exactly lying, it doesn't hurt, but it is very clearly an injury. This confuses and upsets you often.

5. Damian

"Dami got a booboo?"

He's lying every single time. He's your older brother. He's a dangerous killing machine. His skill and combat prowess are unmatched. He needs you to think he's incredible and amazing and cool.

"Those half-wit simpletons could never dream of landing a hit on me. Any blood on my clothes is simply not mine."

One of the goons actually clipped his side with a bullet and it really, really hurts. His hands are flexing and he's got sweat running down his neck from the pain. He would actually rather die than let you know that, though.

[mywritersmind]

AT YOUR EX’S WEDDING - LN4

summary : Getting invited to your ex’s wedding isn’t ideal. Going with a douchebag from your highschool is even worse. But meeting a very attractive man in the deep of a garden? That might just make it all worth it.

listen up : suggestive comments! alcohol! wrote this forever ago and never finished but suddenly got motivated so here ya go! no part 2!!

words : 2621

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I wasted the prettiest dress I own for my ex’s wedding and a guy who’s staring at my tits. “You look upset…” His grubby little hands rub my arms, “We can leave.”

I eye the guy, blonde and pale. I shake my head and down my champagne, “I’d bet you would love that…”

I don’t look back as I walk away, just grab another glass of champagne and walk out into fresh air. My heels are hurting my feet and the setting sun is blinding me.

As soon as I get into the garden though, I feel like I can finally breathe. I can’t lie, this place is beautiful. The sky is pink and blue, the gardens are green and I can’t see them ending anytime soon.

I walk slowly, letting the cool air wash over me. I’ve got to hand it to him, his dream really did come true. He used to talk to me about a picture perfect wedding, big and white. Something that showed the value of his marriage.

We disagreed a lot after that.

I sigh and sip my drink, turning a corner to see a huge fountain. It’s surrounded by flowers, an array of colors that compliment the bright green and setting sun.

I walk slowly around it, listening to the water and faint music from the wedding.

I stop when I see someone sitting on the grass, his head leaning back on the stone of the fountain. I can’t see his whole face, just his side profile.

He’s got dark hair, curly and cut into a messy mullet. He’s wearing a suit, some buttons undone and his tie loose around his neck. In his hand lies a bottle of champagne and when he brings it to his lips, his jaw goes sharp.

I take another step and he clearly hears me because his head cocks towards me quickly. “Sorry.” I mumble as he stares blankly at me.

“Uh…” He stands quickly, looking disheveled and surprisingly attractive, “Don’t worry.” My gaze goes to the bottle in his hand and when his eyes follow, he laughs a bit, “Want me to top you off?” He eyes my own empty glass. He has an accent and I don’t know why it catches me so off guard. Maybe because he got instantly hotter?

I hesitantly smile, he’s oddly welcoming and when I step forward, he pours the sparkling drink into my glass, “Thank you. I did not want to go back in there just for a drink.” I joke but the expression on his face makes me nervous, “Shit, you’re not one of the groomsmen are you?”

He shakes his head, clearly finding this funny as a smile tugs at his lips, “No, Lucky for you, I'm just a plus one.” I nod slowly as he plops himself back down, sitting on the fountain's edge this time. He looks up at me, holding out his hand, “I’m Lando.”

Something about him feels familiar. His grip is strong and his ring makes a noise against mine. “Y/n.” I sit down next to him, sipping my drink and breathing out.

“Why are you so adamant on not going back in there, Y/n?” He says my name softly and with his accent it makes me want to melt.

I can’t help but laugh, “My ex is the groom, My date has tried to kiss me four times, and the groom's mother is drunk and won’t stop asking me why I broke up with him.”

He lets out a big laugh, “Fuck. Those are great reasons to not go back.” Shaking his head, he takes another swing of the champagne, coughing a bit.

“Why are you hiding out here?” I ask, pushing my hair behind my shoulder.

“My date knows the bride but has left me for a groomsman.” He shrugs, “Not too upset though, just wanted something to do tonight.”

“Very interesting. Normal people would go out and see a movie for entertainment, not go to the wedding of someone you don’t know.”

“Well, I've met you so it worked out for the best.” He gives me a little glance and I notice his eyes. The sun is almost down but the light still shines in them, green and a bit brown.

I shake my head, “You don’t even know me.”

He scrunches his nose, keeping eye contact, “Yet my nights looking up.”

I take the bottle out of his hand because my glass is empty, bringing it to my lips and letting the liquid into my mouth. “Something about you is familiar.”

He raises a brow, taking the bottle back. “Oh?”

I would have to remember him, he’s too pretty for me to forget. “I can’t figure out what. Maybe you just have one of those faces. But then again I think I would remember you.”

He laughs, “Well clearly not because you recognize me from somewhere.” I frown, looking at his face intently, “Come on… think about it.”

So he must know me then. Otherwise, where else would I know him from? “I definitely haven’t met you, the accent alone would stick. So what is it then? Do we have mutals on instagram?”

Lando just smiles softly, “I’ve never met you. I can say that for sure.”

“So what is it? God don’t tell me you’re a model-”

“You think I'm hot enough to be a model? I’m flattered.” I roll my eyes but secretly I bite back a smile.

“You’ve definitely got the attitude of a model. Are you famous?” A slight change in his expression gives it away. “You are! What do you do? Is it embarrassing that I don’t know you?”

Lando shakes his head, “Unless you know the sport.” So he’s an athlete. His build sort of gave that away, even under the suit I can tell. But he’s not very tall and I honestly hate sports so I don’t think I'm going to get this one.

I sigh, leaning back on my hands, “I give up.”

Lando laughs again, the type of sound that makes you feel accomplished because you made it happen, “Maybe i’ll tell you later.”

“Mysterious.” I look him up and down, “That’s hot.”

He gives me a funny look, like he’s trying to figure me out, “I like you.”

I laugh a bit, looking around at the now dark gardens, the moonlight shining and matching with fairy lights around us, “Probably because you still don’t know me.”

“Fine then, Y/n.” His eyes sparkle as they land on me again, scooting closer to me. “Tell me about yourself.”

“That’ll be easy, I love talking about myself. What do you want to know?”

“Why did you and your ex break up?”

“Getting right into it I see…” I take another sip, “I broke up with him because he was obsessed with our future, not even in a cute way like genuinely wanted me to drop out of school. We dated in college after being friends for all of highschool.”

“So… why were you invited? I mean, no offense, but I wouldn’t invite my ex to my wedding.”

“Who knows? I was drunk when I replied to the invite and clearly did not think it through. My ex is nice though, it’s not like I'm getting champagne drunk because I'm sad, I'm happy for him.” I drink more from the bottle.

“Where did you go to college?”

“Charleston. How about you?”

“I didn’t go, I barely finished mandatory school.” I pull my heels off as he says, “I’ve never been to Charleston, I heard it’s pretty.”

“Very.” A chill washes over me as the night seems to rest over us, “How do you know your date for tonight?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking sheepish, “Sort of a one time thing…” Hookup. Got it. “But she was talking about how she didn’t have a date and how it would be sad so I just said I could go. Got a bit awkward when she paraded me around just to ditch me.”

“Well it all turned out well didn’t it? Now that we’re here.” His eyes are so soft and endearing as he listens to me speak.

“Why do you keep swerving your dates kiss attempts? Bad breath?” I laugh and bury my face in my hands.

“God it’s so stupid. I knew him in highschool and he always wanted to hook up with me so I knew he’d say yes… But he’s a total tool!”

Lando thinks this is quite hilarious, “Well then,” He holds up the bottle, “To our shitty dates and weird ass night.”

He pours some into my mouth, misses a bit and swears before holding my jaw and pouring more in as I’m about to start choking on my laugh and champagne.

“Fuck.” He giggles as he tries to wipe my mouth but ends up just rubbing his hand over my face, “Sorry!” He drinks as I swallow and let out a much needed laugh.

“I should handle champagne better at this point.” I raise a brow at Lando’s words and it reminds me that I truly know nothing about him.

“Can I try to guess what you play?” A slow smirk tugs at his lips, turning to me and nodding.

“Go ahead, love.” I pretend I don’t hear the nickname and try to think.

“Well it’s not football.” I screw up my face and sit criss cross to look at him better, “Tennis?” He shakes his head.

“What’s your favorite color?” I guess it’s a sport for a question then.

“Green.” Looking into his eyes and saying that feels oddly intimate. “Volleyball?”

He makes a face, “No. Favorite hobby?”

“Reading.” I shiver a bit at the cool air, “Does it involve a ball?”

I think he’s going to say yes but when he shakes his head, I frown. “Skateboarding?”

“Nope. What do you like to read?”

“Romance and mystery. Is it swimming?” That could make sense, he’s fit enough but not exactly slim.

“No. Have you ever dyed your hair?” I laugh at the question because it’s so out of the blue.

“When I was really young I had blue and pink highlights.” His eyebrows raise at this, “Oh shut up it was a great phase!”

“I’m sure it was. And I can't judge because I had a buzz once.” I cover my mouth at his words. I can not imagine that. His hair is like the cherry on top.

“I will be needing photos of that later… My last guess is gymnastics!”

“Still no.” He smiles as I groan and take another drink of champagne, “I drive.”

I sit up straighter and I'm dead serious when I say, “Monster trucks?”

He laughs out loud again, “Formula 1 cars.” My jaw actually drops at this.

“I would never have guessed! I mean, I don’t know a lot about Formula 1 anyways… but doesn’t that mean you’re like really rich?” He looks a bit shy at this which means i’m 100% right.

“And humble.” I nod.

“You really didn't know?”

“Nope. My family is into soccer and soccer only, so I never really cared about anything else.”

“I like that.”

“You like that I know nothing about your job?”

“Absolutely. I hate when people know it… Especially women.”

“Oh? So I'm a ‘woman’ to you now?”

A little smile settles on his face while he looks anywhere around the garden but me, “I think I'm a good judge of character. And I like yours.”

I’ve never had a guy express his interest in me within an hour of meeting, especially one that I found in a garden like a fucking fairy.

“Does that usually work on women?” I decide to tease him a bit.

“Not sure, I’ve never tried it. Is it working on you?” I suddenly have the feeling that he’s being serious. I can tell he’s a flirt, that’s obvious enough with who he’s here with.

Yet I just stand up and take the bottle with me, walking away from him. He follows, a rustling of his clothes and the sudden warmth of his jacket over my shoulders surprises me.

I don’t thank him, I just watch him walk quietly next to me, his eyes scanning the night sky. “What’s your last name?”

“Trying to figure out how you’ll sound with it?” I roll my eyes, “Norris. Don't lie though, Y/n Norris sounds good.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I get that a lot.” We continue walking, my feet feeling the grass as I realize Lando’s holding my heels. I had left them with the intent to go back, but he just took them.

I turn to him, “So, Lando Norris.” I start walking backward, watching the way his eyes trail up and down my body. “You’ve got a good name.”

He nods, slowly walking with me, “Thank you, love.” His shirt is well fitted, his arms pressing against it and the sleeves rolled halfway up.

His eyes get wide as I'm checking him out, causing me to turn to see what he’s looking at. My jaw drops at the sight. “That’s-”

“My date!” we say in unison. I whip my head to him as he raises his brow. The two are in the midst of pulling off each other's clothes while their lips stay attached.

I slap my hand over my mouth as they turn to us. His date is very pretty and her lipstick is smeared over her mouth. My date doesn’t look embarrassed at all, just annoyed we interrupted.

“You two carry on.” I hear Lando say as he grabs my hand and pulls me out of there. We start running then, laughing and out of breath.

“I need to bleach my eyes!” I scream as Lando slows, his breathing labored.

“I think his hand was up her dress!” He looks scarred for life.

“Oh my god!” I stop, “Our dates!” I’m practically bent over laughing, “Lando, Our dates!”

“Fuck this weird ass day!” His hand tightens over mine, reminding me that he’s holding onto me still. “I need something stronger than champagne. Come back to my hotel?”

I raise a brow, teasing him, “Why Norris, I've just met you.”

His smile is slow and sexy, “I’ll save you from a one night stand and raise you whiskey and netflix. I promise I'll keep my hands to myself.”

“I weirdly have trust in you.”

He wraps his arm around me, our hands still attached as we leave the grassy area, “It’s not weird. We’re just two friends who happen to be very pretty and a tad bit drunk at an ex and a random wedding.”

Lando and I spent the night laughing over drinks, room service, and how to lose a guy in ten days. He didn’t touch me besides his arm comforting me as I fell asleep next to him, and even shook his head when I joked about it being a one night thing.

His promise was never broken… more like expired and loopholed by me. I kissed him in a bookstore and he gave me a new favorite version of his smile. Soft and romantic with his eyes focused on me and his hand in mine, “And to think… it all started at your ex’s wedding.”

He sighed as we walked into the elevator, I elbowed him, “Lando, that was yesterday.” His hands went to his pockets but not before slipping his arm around mine so we’re intertwined. I looked up to see him biting back a shit eating grin as if we’ve been married for years.

I just shake my head and stare at the silver doors in front of us. Yet still, I couldn’t help but smile.

[fyodior]

FUCK YOU, FUCK ME!

pairing: toji fushiguro x gn!reader (no anatomy described)

cw: pegging toji !!!! reader uses a strap, toji is hesitant but goes along with it and ends up LOVING it. anal (m!receiving), missionary and doggy, minor orgasm control, etc. kind of glorified anal so keep that in mind. MINORS DONT INTERACT ILL BITE

notes: this is a sponsored fic for @ficsforgaza, and im so so excited to finally be posting it!! (other wips available for sponsor here) go check out some other great creators on the blog too!! and this is my first time back writing in a bit so pls be kind :") divider by @/cafekitsune!

wc: 2.8k

“Toji, sweetheart, you need to relax.”

“Fuck- I’m fuckin’ trying,” your lover grunts, wincing and sucking in a sharp breath. “I’m not fuckin’ used to things inside’a me like you are.” You choose to ignore that last quip. 

Only half a very well lubed finger deep into his tight ass, you figure this is going to be a long night, but you know it’ll be so, so, worth it - for both you and him. 

The day you first proposed trying anal to Toji, he was all for it - excited even. Until he found out that you meant he’d be the one receiving, and his face immediately fell. 

“No. Nope. Nothin’s goin’ up my shitter,” he had responded, making you roll your eyes and groan. You swore up and down that a prostate orgasm could be life changing for males, but he flat out refused for months. It wasn’t until your birthday when you promised him he didn’t have to buy you a gift if he agreed to try anal just once - and then he was all for it. 

He was hesitant as the two of you scrolled through sex toy websites to search for the best possible strap and dildo for him. Pointing out ones you thought he might like only made his face contort in discomfort, haunted by the thought of something going inside his asshole. The list of “hard no’s” grew and grew the longer you searched: nothing longer than 6 inches, nothing girthier than a circumference of 5 inches, no skin colors because that felt too real, and no balls. Toji Fushiguro was a hard man to please. 

Finally, finally, after months of convincing, hours of online shopping, and a few more days following the arrival of the package, did you have your lover laid out in front of you, legs spread and hole awaiting. It was the sweetest fucking sight in the world, and you were so grateful you maintained enough patience to get to this moment. Good things really do come to those who wait.

The harness was already strapped around your waist, painfully eager to attach the dildo and get to it, but of course there was ample prep required, especially for someone completely new to anal. Per your request, he had showered prior to you getting home from work and had tried to clean himself out a little bit, which you were very grateful for. Now you were tasked with stretching and prepping his hole. Your mouth watered at the thought of it. 

Instructing him to lay on his back, for no other reason than you wanted to see his face, you press his thick, sinewy thighs apart and settle between them. You had done your best to create a gentle, relaxing environment in your shared bedroom, with the lights dimmed low, a few candles flickering on the shelf, and soft music playing from the TV. Yet still, the man was as tense as a clenched fist. 

The goal was to get him a little worked up and wanting it, so you start with a little foreplay. Kissing him softly, you jerk him off slowly, getting him hard enough that he wants to cum. His hard cock lays neglected on his belly as he rests on his back, propped up against a horde of pillows, and you could honestly cum just at the sight of him. Toji is fucking beautiful.

But now it was finally time. After dousing your fingers in a thick, goopy layer of lube, you press the tip of your ring finger against his puckered hole, and he immediately flinches.

“Baby, I promise I won’t make this hurt, you have to breathe, though,” you plead, using your other hand to massage his thigh. “Here - take a deep breath with me.” 

Motioning for him to follow, you suck in air, watching him closely. After rolling his eyes and deciding he’ll finally play along, he mimics you. The second he releases the breath he was holding, his body deflating, you take the chance and slip in your finger down to just the first knuckle.

He immediately gasps, furrowing his brows and grunting. “Hey! You fuckin’ tricked me!” he accuses, indignant as a little kid. 

You chuckle in response. “It got it in, didn’t it?”

You stay like that for a bit, wriggling the tip of your finger purely just to start getting him used to the feeling of something inside him, watching his expressions closely.

“Does it feel good at all, babe?” 

It takes Toji a moment to respond, clearly chewing on the idea in his brain. “It… it’s weird,” he finally says, pursing his lips. “It just feels strange - not… bad, though. Yet.” 

“Good,” you nod. “Good. Just hang in there, and you’ll feel good soon, okay? Promise.”

He just grumbles before gripping his cock, fisting it a few times before you smack his hand away. 

“Hey!” he gasps, jaw wide open. “It’s my dick!”

“No. I said no touching yourself yet,” you bite back. When he looks like he’s about to pitch a fit, you decide to throw in a “please, baby? For me?” and he backs down. Toji is nothing if not a sucker for you.

After warning him, you push your finger in to the second knuckle. He sucks in a sharp breath, but makes no protest - a good sign. Soon, you have your whole finger inside him, and he’s panting a bit.

“See, baby? I knew you could take it,” you smile softly. 

“Whatever,” Toji grumbles, avoiding your gaze. He can deny it all he wants, but he can’t hide the fact that his dick twitched every time you pushed your finger in a little further. “Let’s hurry this up and get it over with.”

Your eyes go wide at that, but you nod. “Your wish is my command, sir,” you smirk.

And just like that, your whole pointer finger has bullied its way inside him. 

“Fuck!” Toji coughs, lurching forward. “You can’t do that!”

“Oh, but I can,” you grin impishly. “Just lay back and let me work you open, okay?”

Now that you have two fingers inside him, you can actually make some headway. Squirting some more lube around his entrance, you start to very slowly fuck him with your fingers, pumping them in and out at a snail’s pace. Toji stays silent, still refusing to meet your gaze, but his cheeks are cherry red and he’s gripping the sheets with a tight fist. 

The quiet music coming from the TV hums softly in the background, and you hope it’s relaxing him at least a little as you slowly spread your fingers apart, trying to scissor them open to loosen the muscles and stretch him out. Toji’s breath hitches when you spread them even past when his hole starts to resist, and you smirk. You guess he likes the feeling of being full just as much as you do. 

Time passes painfully slowly while you work him open with your fingers, aching to finally get inside him. To finally fuck Toji in the way he deserves. Finally, you feel like he’s prepped enough to adequately take the strap. It might hurt a tiny bit, but what’s the harm in that?

“Okay, sweetheart,” you start as you fit the jet black dildo into the O-ring connected to the strap. “You okay on your back like this, or do you wanna take it from the back?”

His face burns bright red at the thought of you fucking him in doggy, so he just shakes his head. “ ‘m fine like this,” he mumbles, and you nod.

Once again settling between his thighs, you wrap a hand around his cock and pump it lazily, offering him a small smile.

“You look so pretty laid out like this for me, legs spread and ass spread so wide, ready to take my cock,” you muse, mind in overdrive.

“S-st-stop,” Toji squeaks out, biting his fist. He won’t admit it, he can’t admit it, he’ll die before admitting how much that turns him on. He can’t admit how his ass has started to ache for something to fill it back up again, even though you’re more than willing to oblige. 

“Can’t, baby boy,” you frown, leaning in for a kiss. “Not when I finally have you like this.” 

The brief kisses seem to relax the tense man just a bit, melting against your lips and kissing back hungrily. You could’ve sworn you caught a just fuck me already under his breath, but he’ll refuse it until his deathbed. 

When you make eye contact with him and he nods, you press the well-lubed tip of the strap against his hole, watching with stars in your eyes as it resists, but still tries to spread open. A cough can be heard from near the headboard, but no protests so far. Soft whines fight to escape Toji’s throat as you push in each centimeter of the silicone cock, face burning hot and red. About halfway in, you pause, giving the man a moment to breathe and acclimatize to the intrusion inside him. He’s grateful for it too, huffing and groaning and squirming as he tries to find a more comfortable position, but there is none. Not when there’s something hard shoved up his ass. You just stay as patient as a saint, massaging his muscly thighs and running your hands up his torso, trying your best not to lean too far forward and inch any more of the cock inside him. As a treat, you give his throbbing, aching cock a few tugs with your spit coated palm, and he lets out a sigh. 

One more moment of eye contact, and more nod, and you push your hips a little farther forward. Suddenly, Toji lurches forward again.

“Gah!!” he cries out, eyes wide and heaving. “What- what was that? What did you do?” The accusatory questions only make you laugh, leaning in to kiss him sweetly. 

“Must be your sweet spot - your prostate,” you chuckle. “Here - let’s try again.” 

Pulling out a few inches and thrusting in again has Toji sputtering and groaning all over again. You can’t help but break out into a wild smirk. This is exactly what you wanted. Not only for yourself, as a perfect view to marvel at and take in, but for him - Toji deserves this, deserves to feel good. 

Leaning forward, hands braced on either side of his chest, you muster up all your strength and thrust hard. This time his head is falling back against the pillow as he cries out with a call of your name, too.

“It’s all the way inside, sweetheart,” you smile, marveling at how the silicone balls are pressed firm against his ass. “How do you feel?”

“G-good,” he nods, gulping. “Just- let’s just do this- please,” Toji chokes out.

This version of Toji, one so vulnerable and desperate, is one you’ve never seen before. Not even when he’s fucking you - he’ll get desperate to get his dick wet, sure, but this is… different. Sweeter. His dark, unruly hair is matted to his forehead with sweat, and his chest is heaving in anticipation. You simply have no choice than to give him exactly what he wants.

Inching your strap out to where the tip is almost dangling out of his hole, you thrust all the way back in, relishing in the way he once again moans. His reaction is so much sweeter than you could’ve imagined, and you simply can’t help the way you go fucking crazy. Your thrusts pick up speed, anchoring yourself by gripping the sheets hard as you erratically fuck your lover’s ass. The both of you are complete messes, groaning and whining and gasping almost theatrically, chasing a beautiful high. 

“Harder,” Toji grunts, pulling you in by your cheeks for a messy kiss as his thick legs circle your waist. “Fuck! Fe-feels so fucking good, fuck, fuck fuck…” he blabbers, your face still in his tight grip. You couldn’t give less of a shit, just want to see him falling apart even more, so you give him exactly what he asks for.

Wet sounds of lube and skin on skin echo throughout the bedroom, mixed with the tunes of both your moaning and groaning. An ache is blossoming in your thigh muscles and you can feel yourself losing stamina but you refuse to give in just yet, using every ounce of your strength to piston your hips in and out of him. Toji can’t help but clench tight around your cock, you can feel it by the increased resistance, and you truly think you must have died and gone to heaven. 

“Toji, sweetheart,” you call, trying to grab the man’s attention. “Get on your hands and knees for me, okay?”

For the first time likely ever, the man does as he’s asked with no protest. He hisses a bit as you slip all the way out of his tight heat, but scrambles to flip over and present his ass for you. There’s no way this is your Toji, not when he’s acting like this - but you decide you’ll allow yourself to indulge in this doppelganger, just for tonight. 

Some adjustments to his stance are required, as he is taller than you, but you soon find a comfortable position so that your hips can be flush against his ass. His throbbing cock and balls hang heavy at this angle, dangling between his thighs, but he doesn’t seem to mind. At this angle, you have a much better view of his beautiful ass, using two hands to spread his cheeks apart and stare with a slack jaw at his abused hole, puffy and throbbing. It’s mind boggling that you were inside him. And will be again. With one languid thrust, you’re bottoming out again and pressing his face into the pillow, making him cry out. 

This angle, while depriving you of your lover’s beautiful face, is much easier for your task. Having his ass presented for you like this makes fucking him a breeze - so you take, and take, and take, and take. Pump in and out of his tight, wet hole, both of your bodies trembling as you’re overcome with so much emotion and overstimulation. You feel like a bitch in heat with the way you’re rutting into him, bottoming out with almost every thrust. 

“Fuck,” Toji spits. “I’m gonna fucking cum.” 

Your eyes go wide at the realization. He’s going to cum? Just from getting fucked? Holy shit.

“Yeah, baby? Wanna cum? Feels so good getting fucked, huh?” you tease, continuing to fuck him hard and deep. “Want me to help you out, or so how long it takes for you to cum just from getting your ass fucked? Hm?” Your own words are lost on you, seemingly coming from a place of pure lust and not from your rational mind.

“Please help,” Toji chokes out. And he’s been so good, not touching his cock this entire time, taking your cock so well, that you decide to do as he asks. 

Your pace slows down some as you wrap a hand around his aching, angry red cock, thumbing at the tip and using his tacky precum to lube up your hand some. It only takes one, two, three strokes before he’s gasping and spurting thick, hot ropes of cum onto the bed, whole body tensing as he cries out louder than you’ve ever heard before. He collapses onto the bed, and you take the message, pulling your strap out from his abused hole. No words come from his mouth, only heaves and gasps for air as he tries to come to terms with what just occurred. You don’t nag him at all, just flop down next to him and push his sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes.

“Did that feel good, baby? Hm?” you ask, smiling softly at him. That’s truly all you ever wanted. You truly couldn’t give much of a shit about your own desires and lust - all you ever, ever wanted in this world was for your lover to feel good. 

Toji gulps. “....Yeah. Felt real good.” It’s obvious he’s exhausted, only moments from passing out. You can’t blame him.

“Did so, so good for me, sweetheart,” you coo, leaning in to give him a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Now get some rest. It’s hard getting fucked, isn’t it?” That makes him chuckle weakly.

“Fuck you,” he rasps, but he has a lopsided smile on his face. “Love you. Really. Thank you.”

Your heart soars and you smile widely. “Of course, sweetheart. Always. I love you. Now please get some rest so we can go for a second round.”

[musickgeek]

Happy (SDV Sebastian x Farmer!Reader)

945 words, unedited

Warnings: None

The first time you'd met Sebastian was the first Friday after your arrival in Pelican Town. You saw him bent over the pool table, lining up his shot. Your face got hot, and butterflies flew in your stomach. He looked so at peace, in his element. The small smile on his lips, and comfortable stance he took up. You were wondering how to introduce yourself, but Sam, who you'd met earlier in the day, waved you over. Nervous, you tried to walk over as casually as possible, brushing dirt and dust off your clothes. "Hey (Y/n), these are my friends Abigail, and Sebastian." Sebastian makes a shot, knocking a few of his balls into the pockets. Sam frowns, but quickly refocuses on introductions. He bumps Sebastian's shoulder with his own, almost teasing. "Sebastian, this is the new farmer girl." 

The dark haired boy looked at you, curiosity in his eyes. "Oh. You just moved in, right?" You nodded. "Cool." He pauses for a moment, as if thinking about it. "Out of all the places you could live, you chose Pelican Town?” You couldn't help the small laugh that came out. "I know it seems small and confining, but for me, some of the best memories of my life were made here with my grandfather." He nodded thoughtfully, accepting the answer. You found him to be so pretty, it almost embarrassed you. You'd just met the man for Yoba's sake! Oh well, you'd already decided you wanted to get to know him better.

~~~~~

You tried to speak to him every day, trying to figure out the things he liked. What do boys like him like? You came to an easy conclusion while in the mines. When you found a little piece of clear crystal. "You may think it's not much, but when in the right light," you moved it into the sun to show off how it glimmered, "it shows it's true worth." Just like him, you decided. And so your ventures into the mines became more frequent, finding colorful gems and crystals that Sebastian might like. 

You would walk in the house, scuffed up and dirty, but smiling widely. Robin would look at you strangely. You'd greet her cheerfully like you weren't bleeding and bruised before disappearing down the stairs to her sons room. She was confused for weeks until Sebastian asked her to build a shelf for him to display the fruits of your labor. 

~~~~~

"You know, I'm starting to think you're obsessed with me." He teased one Friday, you guys walking to the saloon together. "In your dreams!" It wasn't you fault, you thought. He was the one who plagued your mind with a late night motorcycle ride a few nights before. You found him working on his bike, and he suggested brining you along on time. You said you were scared, to which he promised to keep you safe. That moment played in your mind over and over like a broken record. You'd become a little clingier, and the fact that he'd noticed startled you. His phone chimed, luckily changing the subject. He frowned, and you asked what had happened.

"Sam isn't coming by tonight. He hurt himself on his skateboard earlier, and is stuck with Harvey tonight." Little did either of you know, it was a crafted lie designed by Sam and Abby to get you guys to hang out. "Do you know how to play pool?" 

"I get the idea, but I've never actually played. I don't know how to execute it, really." He gave his little smile that you adored. "Tonight is going to be interesting." He sped up, almost giddy at the idea of sharing his skills with you, leaving you to chase after him, laughing.

~~~~~

Your skin was on fire. His body had never been so close to yours. You could feel your face burning. You could feel his breath on your neck. His hand covered yours, his chest was pressed against your back. You could smell the woodsy scent of his room on him. To the other patrons, the act was innocent. He was just showing you how to line up a shot for pool. But to you, everything about this felt like carnal sin. You felt like you could pass out. The sound of the lively talk and music faded away, all you senses focused on him. Could he feel it too? You when for the shot, but were too distracted to make a hit. 

"You're even worse than Sam." He said, pulling away. "I'll just have to practice more." You insisted. "Oh, by the way, I found this for you." You pull the blue, teardrop shaped crystal out of your pocket. The shock on his face pleased you. He took it carefully, afraid of breaking it. "I really love this." 

"It's no big deal." You shrug. But he shakes his head, frowning deeply. "But it is, I know the lengths you have to go to for something like this, for any of the crystals you give me. You go down there all the time, risking your life just to give me some silly trinkets. I don't even understand why." Now you frown, feeling hurt. "I thought you liked them..." He realizes his mistake, and gets panicky. "No, I do, I really do! But...I like you more. Sometimes I wait at the rivers edge for you to come back. Just to know you're safe." 

You felt your heart pounding in your chest. What was he saying? "I...I can handle myself, Seb. I promise. I do it because it makes you happy." He looks down, and smiles. You so badly wanted to kiss him. "(Y/n), you make me happy." 

[clockwayswrites]

A bitty bit and a poll... cw: post canon typical violence, blood, offer of smuttiness ship: Danny/Jason

“Danny.”

“Hood,” Danny said, pushing his hair back as he turned Jason’s way. His thumb ran over the shaved side of his head. A streak of blood trailed behind by the motion.

“What did they want?” Jason asked. He kicked at the side of one of the groaning thugs for emphasis as he strode over to Danny.

Danny just shrugged. “The usual.”

“Not supposed to be the usual in my territory,” Jason growled.

“Yeah, well,” Danny said with that crooked grin of his. There was something all the more feral about the grin that night between the blood and the way the harsh magenta neon that adorned the outside of Danny’s shop broke through the light rain. “I’m in that grey zone; not in one place or the other.”

“Shut the fuck up. You’re my mechanic so you’re my territory.”

Danny’s grin widened and he had the audacity to wink. “Kinky.”

“What did I say about shutting up?” Jason asked as he started to look Danny over for injuries.

Danny pliantly, and almost with amusement, let Jason check him over. When Jason found a cut on the other’s arm, he huffed, tossed the bloodied tire iron Danny was holding away, and started to roll up the sleeve of the black over shirt.

“It’s fine Hood, it’s nothing,” Danny said as he peered around Jason.

Without letting go of Danny’s arm, Jason pulled out a gun and twisted enough to point it at the thug who was helping the one Jason had kicked off the ground.

“This street is off limits.”

“Ain’t Crime Alley!” the one said, spitting blood. “Old Gotham is—”

“Right over there. This street? It’s mine,” Jason said. He cocked his gun for emphasis.

“It ain’t—”

“It ain’t worth dying over! Leave it!” the other thug hissed and tried to pull them away. “If fucking Red Hood says it’s his then it’s his! Now come on.”

“Make sure you take the rest with you,” Jason ordered. He kept his gun trained on them until they were long out of sight.

“Do I still have to shut up?” Danny asked cheekily into the silence. “Because I can think of some fun ways for you to make me.”

Jason turned slowly to look at Danny. “What.”

It wasn’t exactly a question. Jason knew what Danny was implying, but what?

Danny just shrugged, still with that smile. “Can’t a man thank his knight in leather armor? I mean, totally feel free to turn me down. I’m not going to pressure someone into that sort of thing, but I figured it didn’t hurt to offer. You seem like you’re a little tense—”

As if they weren’t just in a fight.

“—and could use the release. I’m not going to pretend that I would mind being between those thighs. So what do you say, wanna let me blow you?”

Danny might as well have hit Jason with that tire iron for how his thoughts scrambled at that offer. Who the fuck did that? Danny had no reason to. Jason already made clear that Danny was under his protection. Jason had also been ramping up the amount of work he gave to Danny versus handling himself. It wasn’t like the guy needed to offer sexual favors.

Jason shook his head, as if that would clear his confusion. “Next time or something. I’ve got work.”

“Sure, wouldn’t want to keep you,” Danny said and took a step back.

“Wrap that arm.”

“What arm?”

“Danny.”

Danny laughed and tucked his hands into his pockets as he backed up into his shop. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll wrap it. Go out there and take on the big bad night, hero.”

“I’m not a fucking hero,” Jason called after him. “And lock your damn door!”

Danny gave a cheeky salute before disappearing into the shop.

Brat.

---

AN: NOW, you all know by now, I'm sure, that I love playing around with how balanced Danny is as a half and his hair color and things like that. This is the new idea I was whining about earlier. It's going to be about as pwp as I'm able to get and supposedly a one shot. Danny is very, very forward, Jason is very, very confused (and later very, very satisfied). So all that said...

[nightxcreature]

Christmas Traditions

Summary: Riding through Christmas lights with Dean and your daughter

Pairing: Girl Dad!Dean x Reader

Warnings: None 🫶🏼 Pure fluff!

A/N: I know it’s a liiiiiiitle early for Christmas, but this is loosely based on a night out with my husband and daughter a few nights ago. I hope you enjoy! I am currently working on part three of “Hot-Blooded” and the next part for my soldier boy fic so hopefully those will be out in the next week or so! 👀

******************************************************

The rumble of the Impala drowned out whatever Christmas song Dean had blasting from the radio, but it did nothing to silence the cheers from the little girl in his lap. Lights flashed passed us as we coasted by, versions of Frosty the Snowman and Rudolph dancing sporadically around us. Dean’s loud laugh pulled my attention from the bright colors and I watched as he pointed toward a flashing blue figure in the distance.

“Look, Baby! It’s Santa on a Harley!” He bellowed, grinning at the small girl below him, “You love Harley’s!”

The little girl smiled, waving as we passed the motorcycle, “Yeah! I do!” She yelled out, standing between Dean’s legs and grabbing the steering wheel, “Wanna ride a motorcycle wif me, Daddy?”

His smile dropped and he pretended to cover Baby’s ears as he whispered dramatically, “You can’t say stuff like that in here, Sweetheart. Baby’ll get jealous!”

The little girl frowned and placed a sweet kiss on the wheel before whispering, “So sorry, Baby. I wub you.”

Dean grinned wider and turned her to see out the window again, “I’m sure she forgives you, Sweetheart. Baby’d never hold a grudge against you.”

She smiled widely and cheered as we passed a few brightly lit green penguins sliding onto a blue and white rollercoaster, forgetting all about potentially hurting Baby’s feelings. Dean placed a sweet kiss to her head and slid his free hand over to pull me to his side. He grinned as he wrapped the other hand around the little brunette’s eyes, driving with his knees as he said, “Don’t look now, Bud, Santa and Mrs, Claus are kissing!”

“Ewwww!” She’d shrieked, placing a hand over his tightly, “That’s nassy!”

He’d sent me a Cheshire grin and released his hold on her head as he placed a hand to the back of my head to pull me into a sweet kiss…met immediately with a loud, “No! That’s my mommy!” from below us as she tried to wrench us apart. Dean’s laugh bubbled out of him as he placed his eyes back on the driveway and released me.

“She was mine first.” He argued, sticking his tongue out before distracting her with the newest lights around us. His green eyes matched our girls as they caught the bright lights and shone beautifully, full of wonder and delight. His freckled cheeks were red and his hair full of snow from the open window. I chuckled at the sight, a blush creeping up my neck at how good happiness looks on him. Even after all the years of stress and danger and literal death he’s seen, hell, that he’d experienced first hand, he’d finally found his reprieve. I felt a bit of pride at the fact that I could’ve helped in alleviating that pain and sorrow, in more ways than one, and a smile creeped up my face. Though he’d been born to suffer, Dean had persevered and made it out of the shitshow he’d been thrown in and into this beautiful life we’d built together.

“What’re you smiling at, Mama?” He whispered in my ear as we coasted toward the end of the light show.

“A happy man.” I mutter back, placing a kiss to his cheek, “And a wonderful life.”

He smiled sweetly and pulled me closer as we made our way through the arches of lights leading toward the parking lot, “It’s been one hell of a journey getting here,” he mumbled, glancing down to our beautiful girl, “but it was worth every second.”

I followed his line of sight and sighed, leaning against him and smiling softly. The flashes of red, green, and blue lit up our girls green eyes and brought a glow to her own freckled face. The fact that she even exists is a miracle in and of itself, and one I can’t and won’t take for granted. I peeked back up at him and whispered, “Yeah, it really was.”

*****************************************************

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[xjulixred45x]

If requests are open could I ask for Jack the Ripper ROR x daughter Jack the Ripper reader. Where the daughter acts as the person who spread the legend of Jack the Ripper and built up the fear and rumors around her fathers crimes to protect him.

Ok! First time writing for Jack, so sorry if this a little OOC

Jack the Ripper and Daughter! Reader: Memories

Reader knew that her adoptive father was not normal. In no sense. In fact, he could be someone very dangerous.

She had known it since the day they met, when she was just a little girl on the streets of London. Trying to survive as best he could with an alcoholic father in bed, working when she could and taking from others when she needed it. They were the hard years after all, she couldn't afford another life, if she didn't end up in one of those horrible orphanages, she would end up in the brothels.

So she held on as long as she could to that life, no matter how hard it was to find things to eat, no matter how many times her father got kicked out of work for being drunk, no matter how many times he almost smashed her face in. to blows. She had to continue, she had to continue.

Why? Who knows...maybe everything would finally be resolved. That something good would happen in her life.

And well, one night, something happened.

Reader had been practically knocked out when she went to sleep, after searching for food all day and not being successful, and then being reprimanded by her father, again. She decided that if she went to sleep before dinner she could pretend she ate and not feel so hungry. She didn't even feel when someone broke into the house. She only woke up to the muffled sound of a scream.

Reader didn't even think that anything could be wrong, she simply thought that her father would have vomited or passed out from drunkenness. So he grabbed his blanket, preparing for the possible bad scenario as he walked down the stairs.

What she didn't expect, however, was the absolute silence that filled the entire house, except for the humming of someone, someone who wasn't her father.

London's bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down. London's bridge is falling down, my fair lady...

The reader's father was on the living room floor, covered in red. And a man in his kitchen, cleaning a knife and his hands, humming.

He must have noticed somehow that reader was there, because he stopped humming and slowly turned to look in her direction. Different colored eyes, looking with surprise at the change of events.

Would it all end like this? Die at the hands of an unknown man, in the middle of the night? Did death hurt? Well, surely nothing more than continuing to live like this. Maybe it would be for the better...

The man looked at her like an owl, tilting his head to one side unnaturally. As if I could see something she couldn't. Which, in fact, was so. I could see her lack of fear, her resignation, all that accumulated pain. And yet no trace of bitterness...

Jack had only broken into the house for shelter for the night, but now he was in another difficult situation. Would it really be worth putting this creature out? He wasn't even very big, no one would take what he says seriously if they asked him. But on the other hand he couldn't risk leaving witnesses--

-"…Sir? …” – the girl spoke in a soft tone, surprising the man – “does... death hurt...? I don't want it to hurt anymore, sir..."

Unknowingly, the reader had probably answered Jack's question and saved her own life in the progress.

Life after that was simpler, more bearable. And reader was able to learn a thing or two about her new caregiver, Jack, through the night they met and other things she saw him doing.

Jack was a well-mannered man, that was obvious, but you could tell he had a childish air underneath all that chivalry. She could see it when he joined in their tricks without thinking (playing hide and seek, tag, it almost seemed like the man was playing those games for the first time), or when he recited Shakespeare's sonnets to her. He really didn't know many basic things about taking care of a child, but he tried so hard that the reader couldn't help but empathize with him. Like him.

Jack might be a monster, but he wouldn't let this rotten world swallow another child, create another monster. He would not let another child feel unloved or unappreciated. Not like he was, not again.

However, his daughter wasn't blind, she could see the dark things Jack was into.

Whether it was how they changed houses constantly, how he sometimes came home with his knife wrapped in something, how he spent hours in the bathroom washing his clothes separately from hers (and not because of the colors as he said), but because of the remains of blood that even remained in the drain. How he went out at night and returned hours later, not smelling of whiskey or alcohol, but of iron.

Reader knew that her adoptive father did bad things, but a part of her simply wanted to turn a blind eye to everything her brain was screaming at her to run away from.

This was the same man who took her into his home, who put a roof over her head, who gave her food and clothing, who gave her security and warmth, who spent nights awake when she was sick or in bad shape, the man who It made her understand what love was.

They both knew it, they were the only people the other loved, because after all, he was a monster, and she was a mere zero. Unimportant, irrelevant.

But he could do something for his father. A “thank you” for everything he had done for her.

When Jack died, the reader was already well into her 30s, so it was easier to move among people, influence them, scare them...

Spread rumors about the murderer who had troubled London for so long, the terror he had caused, how he was still on the loose, and the snowball began again. Jack the Ripper. The legend that never dies would always terrorize the streets of Europe, no matter what, reader was going to make sure of that.

Like a good daughter would do.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

Just to make sure, i'm only liking the FICTIONAL versión of Jack the Ripper, the actual Jack could go and suck a dick.

[alastorsfuckassbob]

You're Never Fully Dressed-

Alastorxfem!reader

oh boy everyone's favorite! Please I have never written before, I just figured I'd give it a shot it was 1:35 and I was not feeling sleepy so an hour later here it is, its not edited so SORRY ABOUT THAT- all of my friends are normal and would definitely not proof read this hot garbo!

Basic Plot!! Yikes another song fic i know i KNOWW, the reader knew our good pal Al in her life but oopsies he "left" her (he died duh) and now shes taking a sad hot girl bubble bath to reminisce!!

Lyrics are bolded, past events Italics for the most part.

ALSO Please DNI if you're a minor k thanks bye!! You are responsible for your own internet consumption, so here are the warnings! If you don't want to view that ✨dont✨

Warnings include:

-Swearing

-Violence

-Alcohol Use but not abuse! (its hell duh)

-Abusive Relationships

-Slight Innuendo but not a strong one!

-Angst

The fire danced, flitting left and right. It was different than any other fire set in hell, it wasn't meant to hurt anyone or destroy anything. It was just a small flame, melancholically melting the dripping wax down the white lilac scented pillar. Floral scents were hard to come by unless you made them yourself, it was hell after all, its not like theres a flower garden planted on every corner. The candles single wick didn't produce more than a drop of light. It just flickered every now and then, entertaining its own little lonesome sway. Your demeanor softened as you looked at it from the petal filled bath you currently resided in.

Oddly you felt at peace, understood, almost comforted. You had learned to dance the same way it seemed. You caught yourself when you fell, twisting and turning to please an audience. It was a cruel existence. At least the flame looked content in some way, at least it would never know what it was like to contort under the will of another. Yet it was still a light in darkness, shining for no other reason than to survive...All it could ever do was take, even if it didn't want to, fire needs to burn. To burn it must destroy. You sighed sinking deeper into the bubbly water. You didn't want to think about your past. Not anymore. You didn't have to anymore anyway. Life had not been kind to you and that constant displeasure followed you through your death and into the pits of hell. Funny how suffering could follow biting desperately at your heels and the man who was so "desperately" in love with you in life just couldn't find it within himself to stay...God you sounded bitter. To be fair you were. After all he had ruined your life and he didn't even know it...It wasn't that bad was it? You probably would still be in hell regardless, even without his "involvement" or lack of- you had always been a sinner. It wasn't worth it to be upset, not anymore he's most likely dead, you definitely are, whose to say if he'd even wind up down here. You paused a moment, laughing at the silly conclusion overthinking had led you to.. no that fucker is definitely in hell. Sweet as he was up front, he had a dark side that went much deeper than his soft exterior could cover. You closed your eyes..

1923- Central New Orleans

Suddenly it was 1923. The flower lined streets of late spring in New Orleans. His smile never wavering as he dragged you from store to store. As your dear companion, and biggest supporter, he had asked you to assist him at the radio station. Now that you had finished school you would need a job anyway. You'd always had a beautiful voice and a knack for writing. It just made sense. His hand squeezed yours lightly pulling you from your thoughts. In his hands, he held a burgundy day dress and a matching bow.

"Darling, would you try this on for me? I believe it is high time you were rewarded for all of your hard work. I believe you would simply sparkle in this color"

You smile softly at his gentle tone, taking the delicate dress in your hands. You find yourself caught in his eyes. It feels like you two are the only people on the planet

You feel the familiar sensation of tears on your face, you open your eyes again, you hadn't realized you'd started crying.

you let out the shrill scream you didn't know you were holding in. the fluke of champagne you had so tediously been savoring since you began your bath cracked slightly. You downed the rest of the glass, and grabbed the bottle sitting lazily on the floor. You didn't want to think about him or your life anymore...but it consumed you. You had so many more important things to fret about in your..current..environment. Songs to sing, bitches to kill, people to fuck. A grand glorious array of newer shinier problems, and yet you were stuck sulking about the past. You take a deep breath shaking slightly despite the warm vanilla scented water surrounding you. You remove your hand from the water motioning to the shadow hiding behind a vase (of no more than slightly wilted roses). It slinks forward at your beckoning, climbing to the white marble countertop of your vanity, it clicks the worn down knob of your rickety old radio. light jazzy music trickles out and fills the air with lovesick nostalgia you weren't entirely prepared to let in. No matter what he had done...you would always fall back to him. Even if he was nothing more than ill-fated failed fourteen year "endeavor". fourteen years is quite a long time, even if the majority of it was spent more or less platonically. You really did love him. Love doesn't always follow those that leave, you are testimony and truth to that. You let your mind wander guided by the static filled notes of the radio.

Hey, hobo man

Hey, Dapper Dan

You've both got your style

But brother

You're never fully dressed

Without a smile!

Even through the shudder of the static, it really did sound like him. Despite being the "host" of the station. He had his fair share of performances. For such a Hell bound soul he had the voice of an angel.

You close your eyes once again and allow the melody to take you back to an easier time.

1926- New Orleans, Your apartment

You sing along with whatever tune the radio gives you. You're at peace, simply existing for no other reason than to be with your friend.

"Dance with me my little canary, your voice lights a fire within me"

He pulls you in by the waist. His hands splayed across your hips holding them with a gentleness you'd never expected him to hold for you. He leans his head down against the yours and places a chaste kiss on your forehead

"Alastor" you giggle, the sensation tickling you slightly. "You are quite ridiculous"

"Ridiculous?" he feigns hurt. "My darling I am so far from ridiculous the word does not find sense within my ears" he spins you around and into his chest, you roll your eyes ignoring his antics

"Dearest are you aware you are speaking with the future of radio?"

"The future of radio? Please Love, don't jest. The 20s surely have more in store than you" You laugh into his chest and he shockingly laughs with you.

Neither of you know it but you are both so drunk on the sound. To you, his laugh sounds like the swift church bells that used to ring throughout your home town whenever someone got married. It feels familiar and yet like a distant memory. It makes you want to hear it over and over again until your ears stop working, and even then you'd settle in just fine feeling the vibrations of his chest. He sounds like home. To him, your laugh sounds like the rushing creek and smooth algae covered stones resting deep beneath the trees draped in Spanish moss of his mothers cabin in the woods. Just hearing your laugh he can feel the spotted sunlight speckling his freckled face underneath the big willow tree. You sound like home. Everything about you- it felt like home to him. His hands were crafted to hold soft curves of your body. His ears were made to hear your voice and your voice alone. You were purpose, his home. You don't know it, but it is that realization that sparked the idea of marriage into his heart.

That fire was put out not long after.

You at least had those nine years as his friend, three years as his "copain" if you will- and two years as his fiancée...and so many years alone. You only spent 14 years in the company of this man. You had lived before knowing him a good 17 years, and a good long bit after.

Why were you so stuck?

You hum along subconsciously, the objects in your bathroom begin to glow a familiar pink, levitating slightly in the air as you continue to hum. Your ability isn't weak by any means, but for some reason you were. You were nothing in comparison to hells overlords, especially the newest trio of Vs. Your power is so deeply connected to your voice, how can you hold power when it doesn't belong to you anymore? You drift back to the memory of your arrival. Scared, alone, dressed a great deal less than modestly, and equipped with nothing more than a pair of horns, some wings you couldn't quite use yet, and a thin devil like tail. It was only your third hour in hell. You didn't understand the rules. You were playing a twisted game in which you didn't realize you were just another piece of.

Shock can make a person anxious and fear will make them stupid. He was tall and smelled distinctly of cigars, soured whiskey, and something pungently sweet you couldn't name. It burned your nose as you inhaled it. You would become well aquatinted with the smell of lust in the years to come, you just didn't know it yet. It seemed innocent at first, just a simple contract, no different than a job. All you had to do was sing and dance at a club, in exchange for safety. But it was different and it wasn't innocent. He was cruel and yet no different than so many of the men you had dealt with in life. He agreed to your terms of anonymity and thats about it. You had your private life and his life. Valentino never played fair. You didn't know that yet, and now you're hells favorite sinner, a least no one knew it was you. If he had asked you another day later you would have realized you could have probably fended for yourself, with some difficulty anyway. At least you wouldn't have to be in this mess. You wouldn't be fucking six people before noon. You wouldn't be constantly covered in bruises and scars...Maybe you could have found him, Alastor that is. Maybe you could have at least been friends again. Its silly to hope for anything more since your romantic relationship ended...✨the way it did✨

Your clothes may be Beau Brummelly

They stand out a mile

But brother

You're never fully dressed

Without a smile!

1931- New Orleans, The river

The two of you sit beside each other in a small wooden row boat. Your hair is tied back with your signature crimson ribbon. He fiddles with the pocket of his jacket. The Louisiana soundscape of crickets, frogs and running water accompanies your conversation. Fireflies light up the air, almost bringing the stars down to your fingertips. With a buzz and a gentle green glow, the small creature lands on your hand. Your smile leaks wonderment and Alastor can hardly contain the love he feels for you.

As a Radio Host, he is quite agile in the way of words, yet something about you has him constantly at a loss. He takes a deep breath, unsure of what to say his voice wavers as he begins to speak.

"y/n, I want to thank you for the effect you've had in my lif-"

"My love look at the stars!" You didn't mean to cut him off, Your arms stretched upwards your face turning to meet his. The stars were so much brighter then they were in the city, it was only natural for you to be excited

"Yes doll, I see them, they're the same as they were last night and many many nights before hand"

You let out an impatient huff

"that doesn't make them any less beautiful." a mischievous glint hides in your eyes "now wouldn't it be so dreadfully terrible if I got bored looking at you just because I've already seen you before?" You fake a yawn and look at him eyes seething with boredom

"It would be so dreadful considering I was about to propose to you"

There is no other word to describe what you felt other than shocked. You had been an item for quite some time, but you never figured he would stick around (and "seal the deal" if you will).

Tears begin to run down your face rambling small words of agreement and love. You had never expected him to..love you that way. He was who he was, a dreadfully popular radio host, and you weren't really anything more than an assistant. People really only listened for him..yet in this moment, he was speaking only for you.

"I love you so dearly my y/n. If life without you exists I do not want to exist through it"

Who cares what they're wearing

On Main Street

Or Saville Row

1934: New Orleans, Alastor's house

The house was empty. He was gone. Fully and truly gone. It had been a year since you'd seen or heard from him and six months since the birth of your son. It didn't feel like your house, it didn't feel like your life anymore. It was all still his. His things still bled into your side of the closet, his last purchase, a book, dust encrusted and unread. The blankets and pillows set on the couch exactly as you both had left them after falling asleep to the rain the night before he left wordlessly. You found yourself sporting one of his shirts more often than your own...until eventually they didn't smell like him anymore. The whole house used to reek of his signature vanilla smell. Theres nothing left here but dust and the crooked board of the desk he insisted he could build himself "just fine".

It's what you wear from ear to ear

And not from head to toe

That matters

1936- New Orleans; ✨that shitty bar you performed at✨

"Get the fuck up you bitch"

You felt his hand tangle in your hair and pull you to your knees. All you could do was groan in pain.

"I'm so sorry it won't happen again I promise"

You mutter almost to yourself. He rolls his eyes shoving you into the counter smashing a glass in the process. Your vision blurs for a second seeing the glass shards decorating your h/c locks in a halo. You feel the blood trickle down your forehead.

"Do you think anyone else would hire you? A whore with nothing to her name and a useless ugly bastard child from god knows who?" You feel angered at his words. Insulting you is one thing, but your child?

But then it sinks in, he's right. The 30s are a sick decade, nothing progressive about them. No one else would hire you. You are lucky to work here..despite it all. You tell yourself anything is better than living on the streets. The mantra doesn't dull the pain but it makes it easier to put up with. You don't have a choice. You have a child to take care of.

"Get rid of him"

you stay silent unsure if you heard him correctly.

"Get rid of the boy. I don't care if you leave him in a box on the street or kill him yourself"

He reaches for a small silver knife under the bar's counter. He places it against your throat.

" y/n..You won't like it if I do it dearest, besides you are saving him the shame of having a mother like you. At least if he's adopted elsewhere he has a chance at a half decent life" he took a deep swig from his un-shattered glass of whiskey, looking at you with such deep distain.

You had never hated anyone the way you hated that man..But he was right. You would never be able to give your baby the best life. It would never get better because you couldn't make it better. So you found a young couple not to far from New Orleans, they took him in, and he got to be happy. he ended up living a successful life. He still is. If nothing else theres that. You know your own misery doesn't automatically allow others to be happier, but at times its what keeps you going.

Your mind is flooded with more and more thoughts. Thousands of little memories pilling themselves on top of you. Who would've thought, even deceased, even owned by Valentino, even trapped in an ever so violent place, the real plight of hell would be your thoughts. You light a cigarette and get out of the tub. You throw on a dark red robe and sit on the vanity's counter to brush your damp hair. The song continues into a jazzy interlude before it reprises again

Your clothes may be Beau Brummelly

They stand out a mile

But, brother

You're never fully dressed

You're never dressed

Without a smile

You stretch out your wings in the mirror, looking at your demonic self. No matter how many times you catch yourself in the mirror, even after ten years of this hellish existence. It still strikes you as odd. You look more or less the same. The same hair color and skin tone, although slightly more grey. The tail was just fucking weird no matter how long you had it. The song erupts into the finale distracting you from your thoughts. You begin to sing along with it, smiling softly. It really does sound like him. The same pink glow takes over the room as well as your body, Your eyes begin to glow that same soft pink, your hair floating above your shoulders.

Who cares what they're wearing

On Main Street

Or Saville Row

It's what you wear from ear to ear

And not from head to toe

You're never fully dressed without a smile

The last line comes out much quieter than the rest. A sense of sadness overtakes you once again as you realize how pathetic this whole night turned out. You'd spent the whole night "Simping", as Velvette would say, over a relationship that ended decades ago. Yikes. The static from the radio clicks up a few notches, You cover your ears at the sudden noise. You quickly reach for the dial in order to turn off the device..And then you hear it. You hear him.

"Dearest.." Its almost unintelligible through the static

You think you've finally fucking lost it. Ten years in Hell and you've officially gone "delulu"...another Velvette saying but it feels fitting.

“y/n.”

He called softly, the static in his voice heavy and nearly unreadable.

You almost didn't believe it.

"Y/n" He repeats the static fizzling out leaving his voice raw and almost natural. Fuck this was real. You didn’t respond. You didn’t know how to. You weren't sure if he could even hear you..how he would respond? Would it be worse if he did? It had been an entire decade since you fell, All of this time- he never bothered to contact you. Why now? Why so much later?... Had he forgotten about you? Did he just..die? You cant discern which is worse...that he had left you and your son and lived a long guilt free life...or that he made no attempt to even speak to you in the decade you had inhabited the same existence.

Ok that was all like exposition and shit..considering part two but I AM VERY TIRED RN

[sopiao]

how i think the 141 men would do when asked “can you watch my drink for me?” XP

Price would nod while happily accepting your request, snickering a little when he sees you almost trip on your way to the bathroom. He’d either keep it close to his body or have his other hand flatten over the rim, lidded from any weirdos trying to sneak a roofie in your fruity alcoholic drink. He’d suddenly sober up, to be more alert. The Captain usually never drinks, only enough to feel a buzz but never tipsy or flat out drunk. Someone had to be sober to drive everyone back, keep them from doing stupid shit that would hurt them— or get arrested from said stupid shit. A sudden sense of pride and warmth filled his chest when he saw how comfortable and reliant you are on him, shows how dependable he is.

When you ask Soap if he can watch your drink for you he nods mid-sip. He was ready for this. Setting his own drink down on a table to carefully look after yours. “Like a hawk!” He yells at you, you’re already across the room to the bathroom. He’d sniff the drink to see what you got, if it smells okay enough he’ll even take a sip of it. It’s a 50/50 whether he’s judge your choice of alcohol or not. One guy even had the audacity to ask for your drink, what did he plan to do with it? I don’t know, probably some shiesty shit. Soap will literally bark at the man until he goes away. He earned a couple weird looks from the people around, but it was worth it.

Gaz would of course be protective of it. Staying in one spot and just watching, observing the other people in the club. Whenever he drank it was always one or two beers or 10 shots, nothing in between. But if he’s beyond drunk and you hand him your drink, he’ll immediately sober up, only until you take your drink back. On more than one occasion he forgot he was holding your drink and even drank half of it. He only seemed to realize it when you wondered why half was missing. He, of course, got you another one. Except he gets you one of his own choice cause “You haven’t got the best taste”.

If you ask Ghost to watch over your drink, he’d decline at first. But you insist since you have to go to the bathroom. Shoving the drink in his hand, leaning him no choice but to watch over it. It’s not like he doesn’t want to.. he just.. doesn’t want to? He keeps it in the little cage of his arms that rests on the bar. Staring down every person that gets even 5 feet away from him. Doesn’t matter with the gender, looks, or level of sobriety. Anyone could have the ill intentions of roofieing you. He looks down at your drink, confused by the colorful and fruity smell. Wondering how you can even drink that crap. He eventually just orders another glass of what he got. Just straight hard liquor. He insists that it’s better than “Whatever fruit juice shit you had before”.

[alexa-fika]

I’m at whole cake rn and can’t stop thinking about reader who happens to be Sanji’s little sibling he adopted while on the sea going with Sanji to see Germa. Bonus points if it’s winged child reader!

Love you sm!!! 💖💖

Danger Skittles ( Sanji x male!winged!child!reader)

A/N: So proud of that tittle, I havent read this arc so I had the manga next to me as l wrote so I hope it is good, maybe not a COOK but it is a cook, ya know? Sorry this oke took so long as I said Im going trough a hard moment rn. Also I will be taking those bonus point in the form of kisses Pay up 🫴🏼

Btw PISSED CAUSE TUMBLR FROZE WHEN I WAS ABOUT TO HIT POST, HAD EVERYTHING READY AND IT GOT DELETED THIS IS THE SECOND TIME I HAD TO DO THIS, thank God I write my things in grammarly and them I copy paste them here cause other wise I would have rage quit yall. IT DID IT AGAIN

Dividers by @/saradika

“Sanji-nii, I don’t like this; your family sounds scary, and they want to hurt Big Brother.”

“I know…I know…I‘ll get us out of this,” he promises his brother, walking down the familiar hallways he had grown up in, the walls that his brothers tortured him in, walking into the dining hall and taking his seat, placing the young child on his lap, ignoring the talk of his brothers

Reader munches on the food Sanji passes to him as he huddles close to him, trying to shield himself with his wings to avoid the crude commentary of his family

“Just ignore them,” he whispers to the boy, rubbing his wings, gently stroking his hair, shielding him from the insults,

“These idiots aren’t worth it.”

“Okay”

Niji soon notices that his insults are not reaching his brother, so he switches his anger to the head cook, berating her for making them ‘vile food.’

Commanding her to stay still, with a sadistic grin on his face, he aims his plate and lunches it towards her face until Sanji quickly moves Reader from his lap, placing him on their chair, as he steps in front of Cosette to stop the incoming plate.

“Just what do you think you are doing, you bastard?” he hisses at his older brother, protecting the cook and shielding her from harm.

Reader Awe at his brother's actions grin growing when he sees Sanji bend down, turning towards Cosette and complimenting her on the food

Cosette chuckles nervously. She’d seen them react violently to her cooking before, but Sanji’s reaction was one she’d never seen before, his compliment catching her off guard, causing her to turn a faint pink color, her cheeks rosy.

Reader’s cheer soon changed into warning screams, seeing as Niji stomped towards him, aiming a kick his way

“Sanji-nii!!”

Sanji quickly turned around at the sound of the screams, having no time to make a move as his brother’s leg was brought rapidly down only to stop right in front of Sanji as his father ordered him to stop

“Let me go!” The boy screams, flapping his wings furiously, struggling against Judge’s grasp as he takes hold of him

“ Your mistakes keep growing. May I attribute that to this amalgamation here and this man?” he said, shoving a picture of Zeff and Reader for Sanji to look at, the sound of the child’s wings still echoing around the rooms as they struggle against the man’s grip

“I suggest you cooperate with the marriage to Pudding lest you want both of their heads rolling at your door,” he said, dropping Reader, watching him flutter back to Sanji

He walks out of the room, the rest of his children following him, glancing back at Sanji, who by now has kneeled down to comfort The child

“Make sure tomorrow’s ceremony goes without a hitch, you know what we are capable of,” he said, leaving the room

Sanji was left staring at the floor in shock and anger and then at his brother’s teary and fear-filled eyes

After a minute, he had collected himself; he looked back at Reader, his hand petting his wings gently

“ It’s going to be fine, it‘s going to be fine… ” he tells him, placing his arm around him, trying to protect him as much as he possibly could.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Sanji-nii!”

“No, there’s nothing to apologize for; I promise you’re not doing anything wrong, okay?” Sanji says softly, brushing his wings and playing with his hair gently to soothe them

“But now, because I’m here, they are making you do things you don’t want to do!”

“ Hey, hey, listen to me, you hear me? “ he says softly,

“This is not your fault, do you understand? This is not your fault,” repeating himself,

“This is not. Your. FAULT! You got that?”

“Bu-

“No buts! Understand?” Sanji says firmly, grabbing hold of his wrists, stopping them from saying another word,

“ I said it’s not your fault. Am I clear?”

“O-okay,” he nods, rubbing at his eyes, trying to rid himself of the tears not cascading from them

“Will Papa Zeff be okay?”

Sanji sighs softly,

“ I promise I will make sure the old fart is okay,” he whispers to his little brother, his eyes shining with determination.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yeah.. but I don’t know what’s going on, im scared. Why did Big Brother fight Uncle Luffy? Why did we have to leave the straw hats? Why did they want you to marry that woman? And why are you wearing cuffs?”

Sanji's heart sinks when he hears his brother start asking questions. He knew it was only a matter of time before he started asking questions, and he deserved to know the truth, but he was not so sure the harsh honesty of reality is something he could take, so he decided to hold most of the facts back.

“It’s… it’s complicated, ” he begins, his tone is serious as he continues,

“ Just know that all of this will be resolved soon...”

“ I promise I’ll answer all your questions later, but right now, we have to stay focused, okay?” he whispers softly to his brother, caressing his chin with his finger gently.

“I need you to be brave, just for a little bit longer, okay? “ he says, his voice a gentle, soothing tone as he takes his little brother’s hand and stands up, placing him on his feet,

“ I know I can count on you, don’t I?

“Yeah”

Sanji smiles, hugging the small boy

“Thank you. This is why you’re my favorite.”

“That’s because your brothers are assholes, Sanji-nii.”

Sanji’s head snaps to the toddler, shocked at his words, eventually letting out a baffled chuckle

“Normally, I would have you in timeout for using those words, but I ‘ll let it slide in this situation.”

He smiles mischievously, his eyes still tear-filled, and his body stiffed with the exchange they had had with Judge

“Im glad Big Brother is not an ass like the skittle men.”

“Okay, don’t push it.”

Maybe part two when Nil takes revenge on Cosette? I know that last part was kind of out of nowhere and a lil bit occ but I had to get that comedy in, I had to its in my DNA

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

[captain-mj]

Korangi mafia au 👀

I don’t know I wanted to Drabble

Horangi shivered in the bottom of his cell, body aching. The men that had been in the room previously had cut him. Using knives to make tiger stripes across his body. He was now… decorated. It had been a very rough week for him.

Horangi tried to sit up while his body burned. It told him to please sit the fuck back down. He should get up. Was supposed to get up. They would come back at any point and finally finish him off. But Horangi couldn’t drag himself up. It was definitely a low point. He knew that all of the gambling would eventually catch up to him, but he didn’t really expect to die here. In some random gang’s members basement.

Someone walked in after a while. There was an unnerving silence before freezing cold water was splashed on him, soaking him to the bone. He swore he felt chips of ice hit his body and the fresh wounds. It hurt so bad that his eyes started to water but he refused. He wouldn’t fucking cry.

“Do you speak my language?” The man had a thick Austrian accent. Now that Horangi was looking at him, he thought he recognized him from somewhere, though he couldn’t pinpoint it. Based on the fact he was here and so nicely dressed, he assumed someone important from some gang or mafia or mob or some other group that wanted his head.

Horangi nodded numbly. He hurt all over. But he didn’t cry. Not once.

“I don’t think you’re worth the amount of money i just paid for you to get released. But you’ll do.”

Horangi frowned. “What?”

“Paid your debts. Hong-jin, right?”

“Prefer Horangi.”

“Horangi.” The man repeated and stood up. He was… very well dressed. Hair slicked back. He was much older than Horangi. His arms were covered with tattoos.

“Why did you pay my debts?”

“Have a job for you. You’re lucky too. They were just about to come down here and…” He mimed putting a bullet in Horangi’s head. “But we don’t need to dwell on that do we? Because I’m going to give you a job. Once you’ve paid off what I paid today, I’ll start paying you. Good money too. If you do it right.”

Horangi’s body reacted. It tensed and it felt like he’d split open where the scarring was. “You’re not whoring me out. I swear to God I’ll fuc-”

He felt them strike his face hard. The rings on his hand cut open his skin. “If I wanted to, I would already be doing so. Wouldn’t have bothered waiting for you to wake up.”

Horangi bit his tongue and looked up at him.

“Now, my guys here are going to pick you up and finish cleaning you off. Then we’re going to go home. You have one week to recover and after that, we’ll talk. You understand?”

Horangi nodded, having a lot of questions but making the decision to save his own life first. He could always escape later. Couldn’t exactly resurrect himself.

“Get him up.” The man left and Horangi felt the other men pick him up like he was a doll. His body dangled to the floor helplessly as they moved him elsewhere. He noticed vaguely he was in a car but everything went dark around the edges and then he was out.

The bed He woke up in was so soft. Someone had bandaged him up. This time, Horangi managed to drag himself out of bed. He needed to find a way out. Debt be damned. He’ll pay later.

He opened the door and almost fell back.

Large man. He had to be close to 7 feet tall. Horangi thought he was a bit… scrawny, but he made up for that in height.

“Hi.”

The man had turned bright red. His hair was a dark auburn that was almost the same color as his face. He had a patch of freckles as well over his nose and cheeks.

“H-hi.” The poor guy managed to stutter out.

Horangi stared at him, a little surprised someone as dangerous and with enough money to pay off the… excessive amount of money Horangi owed, would hire… this guy.

“Can I help you?”

The man held up some bandages and it clicked that he was probably a medic. A waste considering his size, but that’s exactly what he needed right now. With a small amount of hesitation, Horangi had to admit that this was a lot better than dying of infection and surely staying just a little longer wouldn’t hurt.

“What’s your name?”

“Um…”

“Um isn’t a very good name. Mine is Horangi.” He knew he shouldn’t be so mean, but it was a little too easy.

“Most people call me König.”

“König? Doesn’t that mean King?”

“Yes.”

“They call you King?” Horangi very much doubted it.

König frowned at him, looking more and more flustered by the second. “And they call you Tiger?”

“You know Korean?”

“No. I looked it up.” König admitted rather quickly. “Can you lay down for me? You are very injured…”

Horangi slowly obeyed, not really believing that this marshmallow of a man could hurt him. He laid down and stretched. His entire upper half only had bandages. His face had a few too, but he didn’t really want to think about that. They were stretched over his face.

Now that he wasn’t actively bleeding out or freezing to death, he could feel it more. The cuts ran along his spine and then curling down his ribs. They ran over his arms and even to his knees. Along his face, they had carved little lines to represent how much he owed. They had done tally marks for every 1000 euros. He supposed it was better than what they could’ve done.

König was gentle. He unbandaged him and gently cleaned the wounds. His hands were warm and although there were clear calluses on his pointer finger, most of his hands were nice and soft. König also took a considerable amount of care in being nice. No fast movements, no rough pressing of the cloth, not an ounce of unnecessary pressure.

Once König was done cleaning each wound, he carefully bandaged him back up in the fresh bandages. His fingertips grazed his skin and Horangi was surprised by the amount of goosebumps that gave him. It had been a while since someone had touched him this way. It had been while since anyone touched him in general unless it was to hurt him or… worse. He sighed softly and relaxed more.

König patted him gently. “All better?”

No. Not at all. “Feel cleaner. Don’t suppose I could take a shower?”

“After all my hard work? No. If you’re able to stand long enough, I’ll help you shower tomorrow.”

Horangi groaned but nodded. It was fair. The idea of a hot shower was alluring, but he probably could not stand for long enough. He fell asleep and eventually someone brought him food. It was just soup, rather plain soup at that, but he ate it and continued on.

This time, when he went to make his escape, someone was there guarding his door, not about to come in. They simply flashed their gun and made a motion for him to go back inside.

“Need anything, ask. Boss says we need to take real good care of you.”

Horangi did not like the sound of that. He checked his windows but they were nailed shut. His bathroom was nice, but there was only a tiny window at the top that he definitely could not fit in.

Fuck.

Horangi sighed and waited for König to come back. Eventually his back started to pull tight again and he decided to lay down again. Everything hurt. He paused as he left the bathroom and considered looking at himself. After a few minutes of hesitating, he decided to not. He’d wait until he had healed mostly.

So Horangi laid back down and tried to focus on anything other than the ache on his skin. The burn of his muscles when he moved them wrong. He wished he had something for it. Pain medicine of some kind or even just compresses would be nice.

Horangi asked the guard for it and they pulled out their phone to text someone.

König arrive again. He looked just as anxiety riddled and big as before, only now with the added bonus of having dark circles and a small frown.

“Everything alright? I didn’t really need assistance. Just the items.”

König shook his head. “I want to make sure no infection has set in. The wounds are so close to your spine… I worry about what might happen.” He gently pushed him down and put his hand on the nape of his neck to keep him there. Horangi tensed and grabbed the sheets as hard as he could. The position made him nervous but he stayed still.

König examined them again and cleaned them once more. He then put something cold on them while he fed Horangi two pills. They were pretty small so Horangi doubted they’d work until suddenly it felt like he had been knocked flat on his ass. The world melted away and with it all the pain.

König’s hands were magic. They gently soothed away any heat. He blinked and König was tugging him up.

“What are you doing?”

“Don’t you want a shower still?”

“I thought you said tomorrow.”

“It is tomorrow. I forgot you’re smaller. Need smaller doses.” König lifted him with a little too much ease.

Horangi groaned, too tired and sluggish to be mad about the comment about his size or the way he picked him up. “What did you give me?”

“Don’t worry about that. Ill bathe you instead.” König set him down on the sink and Horangi just nodded. He wasn’t wearing much clothing so it was easy for König to undress him. The water turned it and after a few minutes, he gently scooped Horangi back up.

Horangi tensed at the last second above the water, expecting it to be either freezing cold or way too hot, but it was pleasant. Maybe a little warmer than he would normally make it, but pleasant. He melted as König started to wash him. The warm rag ran over every inch of skin. König seemed particularly careful behind his ears and along his arms.

“Do you know what my job is?”

“That’s not something you need to concern yourself with right now.” König smiled at him, red again. Only now did Horangi consider how this might be for him. Poor little anxious man.

“So you do know?”

“...i do.” König sighed. “It really isn’t important.”

“Then why won’t you tell me?” Horangi pressed him but also pressed into his hands.

König grabbed his face, gently cleaning the tally marks and then scrubbing the rest. “I don’t want to upset you. You should be focused on healing.”

Horangi stared at him for a moment. “Is it bad?”

“Depends on your definition of bad.”

“Fine. Define bad for me.”

König hummed. “Well… I consider something bad when it causes me physical harm on a regular basis.”

“With this?”

“Only if you’re bad at it.”

Horangi glared at him and watched him drain the water. He put his thoughts together long enough to cover himself. König wrapped him in the towel and then took him back to the sink, drying him off carefully.

“Is it degrading?”

“I’d consider it well respected.” König smiled at him. He was only slightly blushing now and it was… endearing instead of amusing.

Horangi frowned but just nodded. “Why can’t you just tell me what it is?”

“They haven’t decided if they want to actually give it to you.”

“If they don’t give it to me?”

König looked uncomfortable. “No one will hurt you.” There was a weird amount of conviction in his voice.

Horangi nodded a little. “Yeah, okay…”

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

A Little Much

Astarion x Evie (Ace!Tav) Masterlist

Fluff, Evie and Astarion have self worth issues, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: It’s Evie’s first ball after the fall of the Netherbrain and somehow, facing down Baldur’s Gate elites feels more terrifying.

A/N: I’m alive! I know this hasn’t been requested by anybody but sometimes you need to ride the inspiration. And reminder to please COMMENT AND REBLOG IF YOU LIKE THIS I NEED VALIDATION TO LIVE!!!

Word Count: 1.7k

“What about this one?” the tailor said, his tone starting to strain. “It’s a lovely color for your complexion.”

Evie didn’t say anything, running the fabric through their fingers. It was just about the finest fabric they ever felt. A small pang of guilt twisted inside them for simply touching it, as if their calloused fingers would somehow damage the smooth threads. Carefully, they let it back down on the table next to the pile of other rejected fabrics.

“I’m inclined to agree,” Astarion said. “Cliche as it may be to say, blue truly does bring out your eyes.”

Evie shifted, the familiar anxiety they’d been experiencing for the last two hours rising in their gut.

“I’m not sure,” they said, trying to sound discerning. “Maybe something a little more…simple?”

The tailor’s lips turned into a hard line. Evie had the distinct impression that if they were not the literal hero of Baldur’s Gate, he would have kicked them out ages ago. He must really need the commission.

“Simple,” he repeated, sharply. “Very well, I’ll see what I can find.”

Without even bothering to pick up the bolt of fabric, he spun on his heel and disappeared into the backroom.

Evie let out a short breath of relief. This whole song and dance had been going on for far too long. First ball or not, there had to be a simpler way. After the next round of samples they’d say they need to think about it and leave. It may be in rough shape, but their performance dress could still do in a pinch. Maybe they could convince Astarion to spruce it up.

As if feeling their thoughts turn in his direction, Astarion moved closer leaning into their ear. “I think you’re going to drive that man to baldness.”

Evie gave what they hoped was a nonchalant shrug. “Not baldness. Grayness, perhaps. His head is fairly well preserved.”

“Either way, he’s cursing your name.” He took up one of the other swatches, a dark blue patterned with silver stars, and examined it with an artful eye. “I still think you would look lovely in this. Not the whole dress, mind you, but for the bodice at least.”

They smiled a little at that. An image of a gown came easily into their mind, although not as detailed as they were sure Astarion could picture it: something grand and striking, something a princess would wear waiting for a knight to rescue them. And with that thought, the fantasy ended.

“I think it’s a bit much for my taste,” Evie said. “Might suit you though. I know you prefer red, but you truly look well in just about any color.”

They glanced over at Astarion expecting to catch him mid preen. Instead, his gaze was solely on them, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“What?”

“Do you actually want to go to this ball?” he said, suddenly.

Evie straightened in surprise. “Of course, what are you talking about?”

“I am talking about that infuriating thing you do when you technically agree to something by not disagreeing before dragging your feet at every step.”

“I don’t–.” They stopped at the side eye Astarion was giving them. It was something they were working on.

“That’s not what’s happening,” Evie corrected.

“Enlighten me then.”

They shifted their stance, suddenly feeling very hot all over. When did it get so stuffy?

“It’s just…it’s all a bit much, isn’t it?”

“The ball?”

“No. I mean, yes, a bit, but this.” They waved their hand around the shop. “He’s charging twenty gold a yard for some of this. And that’s just the fabric, let alone the labor cost. And it’s not as if I’ll ever wear it again. I mean, how many balls can I expect to attend in one lifetime?”

“So, you’d rather wear something you already own?” Astarion questioned with clear judgment in his tone.

Evie’s lips pressed into a line, their defenses rising. “It’s not as scandalous as all that.”

“Only if you want to dress like the entertainment.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged, “so long as you don’t mind being the entertainment. Or at minimum have people handing you their used cups all evening.”

Evie bit back a groan of frustration. He really didn’t understand.

“I just think it’s all rather frivolous,” they vented.

“You think fashion is frivolous?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you implied.”

“I didn’t–.” They stopped, taking a deep breath. This wasn’t going how they wanted it to go. They just wanted to leave and not have to think about hundreds of eyes on them whispering speculations about who they were and where they came from. They almost wished they were the entertainment. It would be more honest and they’d walk out with well earned gold in their pocket.

“Look, I know dressing well is important to you,” they said, carefully. “I know that choice is important to you, but it’s just not to me. I don’t need to make a statement outside of my performances. As soon as I’m off that stage, I am perfectly content for people to stop looking at me.”

Astarion scoffed. “Then you’ve somehow missed the point of the evening. People are going to be looking ,whether you want them to or not. The only thing you have control over is what they see.”

Evie glanced away. He was right, of course. They had wanted to focus on the other aspects of the evening; seeing their friends again, free food, listening to music instead of playing it for once, just seeing how the other half lived. They should have known it would come with a price.

“Well then maybe it is best if I skip it.”

It was a testament to how much effort Astarion was putting into understanding that he didn’t just throw his hands up in frustration. He did, however, get in one exasperated sigh.

“What are you so afraid of them seeing?”

A mouse. A rat. A thief. Gur scum. Unclean. Unworthy. Wrong.

It must have shown on their face as Astarion touched their chin, turning them back to him.

“None of that,” he said, his tone suddenly serious.

Evie didn’t really know what to say. They just knew they couldn’t bring themselves to look directly at him.

Astarion, however, didn’t falter. “You’ve been my mirror in more ways than I’d like to admit. Do you wish to know what I see?”

“I’ve got a feeling you’re going to tell me anyway.”

His face lit up with pride. “There’s my love. Let’s start with that deceptively smart tongue disguised by a very pleasant mouth.”

“Pleasant mouth?”

“Very,” he insisted. “Now let’s see…a nose that one might describe as too long for your face, but actually proportions your features quite well when taken all together. I think it’s the little bump that does it. Good hair with some potential. You are with me after all darling. It’s hard to compete with perfection.”

“I think you’re losing the point of this exercise.”

“I’m not finished. I haven’t even gotten to those two near supernaturally blue eyes of yours. They are always so much more endearing when they’re trying to be annoyed with me.”

Evie tried to glare, they really did, but their smile gave them away.

Astarion’s own grin only widened. “And don’t even get me started on your truly lovely skin and even more enticing neck.”

“Careful my love, you’re starting to drool,” they teased.

He answered by pulling them to him, playfully nipping their neck with a growl.

“Astarion!” They laughed.

“Don’t interrupt me,” he said before moving his lips to their ear. “You’re so much more than all of them.”

Evie’s brows furrowed as they felt the air shift. His tone was softer now and all the more serious for it.

“Even before you saved everyone in this miserable city, you were worth more than any of the fools who thought they were superior because they were the ones to put coin in your purse. If the world actually judged people by the things that mattered, near everyone would question their worthiness to even speak with you. I know I do.”

They felt their heart clench, turning their head to catch their love’s eye. “Astarion…”

He gave them a half smile. “Not to worry darling, it’s only in moments. It’s comforting to remind myself that you’re not infallible. You did make the very foolish decision of choosing me after all. Besides, I’m selfish by nature. I’m not about to do something noble like let you go to find someone better.”

He left his voice light, but Evie could feel the weight of his fears. It had faded for the last few months, but still lingered. Time was the only cure for it. And Evie intended to give him as much as it took.

“I’m holding you to that,” they said.

Astarion watched them a moment, surprise flashing across his features before settling into something much more self satisfied.

Evie felt the need to say something to keep him from getting down right smug, but the kiss he placed on their lips quickly evaporated those notions. He was just as relieved to hear their words and they were to hear his.

They held each other close, even as their lips drifted apart content to stay in their own little bubble for a few moments longer.

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want,” Astarion murmured, “but don’t let what other people think stop you. They’re not worth the consideration.”

Evie took a breath, finally letting his words settle. They wouldn’t be alone. Astarion would be with them, and Wyll and Karlach and Gale and Shadowheart and Lae’zel; really the only people whose opinion mattered. How could anyone make them feel small with love like that?

“Alright,” Evie conceded. “I might need to borrow your eye though. I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

“Gladly, so long as I don’t catch you squirming thinking about how much it’s all going to cost,” Astarion countered.

“I will…try.”

He beamed and Evie could already feel their last few coppers clinking together. They pushed it aside though. Their purse might regret it but they would not. If there was ever a reason to celebrate, the knowledge of never being alone again seemed just about the best.

[rue-t]

Racing Against Priorities (Oscar Piastri Fanfiction)

Chapter One: Fractures Beneath the Surface

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the nursery. You sat on the edge of the rocking chair, absently running your hand over your swollen belly. The room was perfect—soft pastel colors, a crib that Oscar had built himself, and a mobile that played a gentle lullaby. It was everything you’d dreamed of for your first child.

But the man you’d dreamed of sharing it all with was packing his bags.

Oscar moved through the bedroom quickly, tossing clothes into his suitcase with practiced ease. His focus was sharp, his mind already on the race weekend ahead.

“Do you really have to go?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He froze for a moment, his back to you. “We’ve talked about this,” he said, not turning around. “It’s Monaco. One of the biggest races of the year. I can’t just skip it.”

You stood slowly, your heart pounding. “Oscar, I’m due in less than two weeks. What if the baby comes early?”

He sighed and turned to face you, his expression conflicted. “It won’t. The doctor said everything’s on track. And even if something happens, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“As soon as you can?” you repeated, your voice rising. “Do you hear yourself? I’m about to have our baby, and you’re acting like this is something I can just handle on my own!”

Oscar’s jaw tightened. “It’s not like that. You know how important this is to me. I’ve worked my whole life for this career. You knew that when we got together.”

“And I supported you,” you shot back. “Every step of the way. But this—this is different. I need you here, Oscar. I can’t do this alone.”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking away. “I’ll miss qualifying, the race, the team—it’s not just about me. There are hundreds of people depending on me.”

“And what about me?” Your voice cracked, tears spilling down your cheeks. “Am I not important enough to you anymore?”

Oscar stepped forward, reaching for you, but you took a step back. His hand hovered in the air before falling to his side. “Of course you are,” he said, his voice softer now. “But I can’t just walk away from this. Please understand.”

You turned away, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I hope it’s worth it,” you whispered.

Chapter Two: A Growing Divide

The house felt colder after Oscar left. His absence was a tangible thing, pressing down on you like a heavy weight. You tried to stay busy, but the hours stretched endlessly, each one filled with a gnawing sense of unease.

Oscar called every night, but the conversations were short and strained.

“How are you feeling?” he asked one evening, his voice crackling through the phone.

“Like I’m nine months pregnant and alone,” you replied, the bitterness in your tone unmistakable.

He sighed, the sound heavy with frustration. “I’m doing my best, okay? I’ve got the race tomorrow. Can we not do this right now?”

You wanted to scream, to tell him how much it hurt that he wasn’t here, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you whispered, “Good luck tomorrow,” and hung up before he could respond.

Chapter Three: The Call

It happened in the early hours of the morning. A sharp pain ripped through your abdomen, jolting you awake. At first, you thought it was a false alarm, but when the contractions came faster and harder, you knew it was time.

You fumbled for your phone, your hands shaking as you dialed Oscar’s number. It rang twice before he picked up.

“Hey,” he said, his voice groggy. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s happening,” you gasped, clutching your belly. “The baby’s coming.”

There was a long pause, and for a moment, you thought the call had dropped. Then he said, “I… I don’t think I can get back in time.”

“What?” Your voice rose, panic creeping in. “Oscar, I need you here. You promised.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “But it’s race day. If I leave now—”

“Race day?” you interrupted, your voice shaking with disbelief. “You’re choosing a race over your family?”

“It’s not that simple,” he said, his tone defensive. “This is my career. My future. Our future.”

“Our future?” you repeated, tears streaming down your face. “What about our present, Oscar? What about me?”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he said, but the words felt hollow.

Before you could respond, another contraction hit, stealing your breath. You dropped the phone, doubling over in pain. By the time you picked it up again, the call had ended.

Chapter Four: Alone

The delivery room was a blur of bright lights and hurried voices. Nurses and doctors surrounded you, their encouragement barely registering over the sound of your own labored breathing.

You reached out, desperate for a hand to hold, but there was no one there. The ache in your heart was almost as unbearable as the pain in your body.

When the baby finally arrived, a tiny, wailing bundle, you felt a rush of relief and love. But the emptiness remained, a hollow space where Oscar should have been.

Chapter Five: Regret

Oscar didn’t arrive until the next day. By then, the adrenaline had worn off, leaving you exhausted and emotionally drained.

When he walked into the hospital room, his face lit up with a smile, but it faltered when he saw your expression. “I’m so sorry,” he said, stepping closer.

You looked at him, your heart heavy with disappointment. “You missed it,” you said simply.

“I know,” he whispered. “I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

You handed him the baby, watching as he cradled your son for the first time. Tears streamed down his face, but you couldn’t bring yourself to comfort him.

Some wounds were too deep to heal with apologies.

Epilogue: The Distance Remains

Months later, Oscar stood on the podium, another trophy in hand. The crowd cheered, and he smiled for the cameras, but his eyes betrayed his sadness.

In the paddock, you stood with the baby in your arms, watching from a distance. He waved, but you didn’t wave back.

The space between you was more than physical now. It was the price of his dreams, and neither of you knew if it could ever be bridged.

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Drabble-A-Thon 2 Prompt #11

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit

Prompt: Mer Dabi and human Tomura. Tomura wants to explore and enjoy all this new anatomy whereas Dabi is just confused about human genitals because they are just out all the time. He does find himself enjoying the human's cock though.

Contents: Mer!Dabi, Non-human anatomy, blow jobs, anal sex. 

Dabi was always told to never go near humans. Humans are vicious, wasteful, alien monsters who have killed countless folk either with their violence or their pollution. Even if one could find a friend among them, it wouldn't be worth the risk because sooner or later the other humans around them would sniff out the relationship and kill the human and the mer if they could get their hands on them. 

Dabi doesn't think he has to be afraid of that when Tomura Shigaraki is the king of this landmass. His people know that he has been coming to the beach each day to see him for going on eight months now. No one has hurt him. Sometimes they watch from much farther back on the sand, oohing and ahhing as they see him. But they are not allowed to approach him, and over time, Tomura had a little tent put up, part of the beach carved out into a pool that feeds in from the ocean so that Dabi doesn't have to go all the way out into the deeper waters to refresh his gills, or sit in the hot sun when they're having their long conversations. They're in that tent now, torchlight casting long shadows around them, and Dabi knows he is not supposed to be doing this with a human either. 

"Here?" Tomura asks, his hand cupping over his crotch, his palm so much warmer than Dabi's own skin, but still somehow making him shiver as blood pools in his cheeks. He hasn't ever had anyone do this for him before. He's too weak to take a mate. He was never supposed to have anyone touch his claspers. But Tomura, over the past few months, has told him how much he wants to have Dabi with him. How he... has grown to love him, and when he is ready, if he ever was, he would like to make his body feel good. 

"Uh-huh," his voice is soft and embarrassed as it happens and that gives the hand against him pause. 

"We don't have to do this, precious." He promises, his hand starting to retreat. 

Dabi catches his wrist and keeps his hand there. "I want to!" He does, he wants to be Tomura's mate. He just doesn't know what he's doing. 

The human's eyes are soft on him before he presses a kiss to his forehead. "Then you only have to concern yourself with feeling good. Would you feel better if I took off my clothes too?" 

Dabi doesn't wear clothes, and he's only ever seen Tomura in the more revealing swimwear when he comes out into the water with him. But he is curious about the other man's body too. He manages a small nod and the human pulls away from him, stripping down layer after layer of his garments until he's completely naked. His body is not too dissimilar to his own. His skin is soft and paler, but rather than the patches of color that bleed across Dabi's form, he has scars from his time as a warrior. His long white hair falls loose around his face and down his back. He is sculpted muscle that tells Dabi he should be afraid but also screams that he can be a provider and protector. And he must already want Dabi very badly, because between his legs, his claspers– clasper, only one hanging there, thicker and longer than Dabi's two– is already out.

Tomura sees him staring and chuckles. "Humans don't have their genitalia inside of their bodies." He explains as he gets back onto the cot. He starts to run his fingers along the place his claspers will emerge, dipping his head to press kisses against Dabi's chest so softly. "Our bodies get too hot, we wouldn't be able to have children if we kept everything inside." 

"Isn't that dangerous? Aren't they sensitive?" His are. Just the chill of too cool water can make his body uncomfortable. 

"It can be. Try not to ever hit me there." He sounds amused, "But I imagine I'm as sensitive as you are." His hand is so warm, the touches so sweet, that Dabi's arousal is growing and his skin parts to start to leak the slick fluid that will help his claspers slip out of him. "Oh, you're already so pretty, little one." 

His face is so hot as he bites at his lip to keep from making the needy sounds that he wants to as his arousal builds for the first time with a partner. He doesn't know what he's doing, but even though his body is supposed to be so foreign, Tomura doesn't hesitate to move down the length of him and press kisses to his opening, licking along his lips and teasing his hot tongue inside until Dabi can't help the loud sounds of pleasure that are spilling out of his throat. He wants more, needs it, and his claspers start to push free. He expects the other man to stop licking at him now that he's out, but Tomura seems happy to kiss and lick along his shaft as well. He is so careful with his teeth and Dabi knows there are very, very few folk in the whole wide ocean who could have possibly experienced this because folk typically have such sharp teeth.

Dabi whines when the other does finally take his mouth from his claspers, having been alternating between which one he stroked with his hand and which he licked with his tongue. But when he pulls away Dabi is able to look down the length of his body again and he sees that the human's clasper is bigger than it was before. It's erect now like Dabi's claspers, flushed and heavy between his thighs with his need. 

"You said that only breeding pairs can be mates?" 

Dabi's stomach sinks. Did Tomura change his mind? The disappointment robs him of his voice but he manages a nod. 

"Humans don't have those strict kinds of guidelines-- at least not in my kingdom. Let me show you how we can 'mate'?" 

The words sweep away the hesitation and Dabi is breathless as he nods. 

"Good boy. Spread your legs, I'm going to show you how good you can feel even without a cunt." 

Dabi wasn't sure that he could feel as good as he does just being in Tomura's presence after all of the horror stories of humans he was raised on. But finding out that humans put their cocks inside of their partner's ass, male, female, or anyone outside and in-between, to bring them pleasure, is a phenomenal discovery. As is the fact that being so full, with his claspers able to rub against the other's stomach as he moves between his thighs, is so blindingly pleasurable that he ends up spilling between their bodies. 

Oh he doesn't know how he's ever going to get through the summer mating season without this. Tomura, thankfully, immediately kisses him slow and deep, letting him taste himself on his lips, and promises that he will simply have to give it to him as many times as he needs when he slips into his cycle. 

Dabi is pretty certain that the ghost stories about humans must have been greatly exaggerated unless Tomura plans on killing him through such good mating. 

Thanks for participating! If you'd like to join in, consider checking it out here!

[recreationalfanfics]

can i request buddha, Hercules, jack and Brunhilde with douma or kokushibou reader please ❤

So this is a Yandere request but here's a TWIST: The Kokushibo! Reader just being incredibly loyal to Brunhilde as they were with Muzan and seeing her as their new master.

Many human champions were summoned back from when they were in their prime...no one ever said that a demon couldn't be the prime for a human who was turned into one. Göll cowers next to her sister in fear as Brunhilde watches the man- no...the demon manifest. She would have chosen their brother, but the malice and anger they carried with them until their death would perhaps make them just a bit more hungrier to see a gods blood stain their blade and make it more likely for them to win. Once it fully manifests, it walks in front of Brunhilde, they look at Brunhilde before kneeling before her.

"I am at your command, My Lady."

Yandere! Brunhilde:

- You quickly become her right hand man...demon?? and her favorite out of all the other champions, while she loves Göll, it can be tiring to constantly hear her crying and cowering. With you, she felt calm. With you, she felt her head become clearer. She felt drawn to you, incredibly so.

- Brunhilde herself is a manipulative Yandere but considering you pledged your undying allegiance to her, it makes her obsession with you grow as well. The fact you also will do whatever she asks without question makes her heart flutter and reassure her that nothing will steal you away from her.

- You're also a warrior like her, you've seen battle and you've seen blood. You are aware of the sacrifices that must be maid and that each battle results in Brunhilde losing her sisters painfully, maybe when you were resurrected you started to feel a bit more than you did as a demon and you'd put a hand on her and comfort her.

- You do also keep her a bit more composed when she gets short tempered or sighted and assuring her that she still has you and she looks at you and her eyes soften.

- Right...she has you. You. You. You.

- When your fight happens, she preforms the Völundr with you, to ensure you don't get hurt and you're motivated to keep your Lady Brunhilde safe.

- You don't know the way you make her giggle when you say that stuff. When you call her YOUR Lady, she isn't used to getting such respect from God's so she never expected to get it from a demon. You're polite as you are strong.

- She hates it when other women or men come up to you, they think they can steal you away! So she stands there, looking very upset, and you tend to her immediately.

- You are not dumb, you may be aware of her Yandere tendencies and regardless of how you feel; you promised her your loyalty and that is what she will receive. She brought you back to life after all...a second chance to prove to humanity you're worth more than your brother.

- Also if you have multiple eyes, that is so chill with her tbh. Like, if you let her she will kiss you on each eyelid to show you just how much she loves you if you start to feel insecure but also, like, you sense there is a certain possessiveness in those kisses.

Yandere! Jack the Ripper:

- What a curious creature you are indeed. He saw Brunhilde introduce you and while most people were hesitant to work with a demon, he was more than pleased. Then he saw your color...

- What a noble color it is, truly, it dazzled him. Such strength and such nobility even if you were a creature forsaken by God and driven by bitter jealousy.

- Jack tries his best to speak with you, when you train or when you enjoy some tea to yourself. He's simply fascinated by you: by your appearance, to the anger and loathing you hold in your heart, to your composure.

- He simply admired you, was fascinated with you, obsessed with you. However, it appears that only Lady Brunhilde was your main concern. You weren't mindlessly loyal to her and he understands being grateful but you would die for her and it honestly irked Jack off a bit.

- She was willing to have her own friend killed for the sake of humanity and while Jack was fighting to save it as well, it bothered him how you could be the next peice on her chessboard she could sacrifice.

- He doesn't understand it, how could you be so loyal and trusting of someone like her...unless there was another reason...you didn't love her, did you? The answer was "no", you were simply obeying her, but he just can't help it but feel sick when he sees you standing next to her. Her whispering into your ear, most likely battle strategies and looking at her like she was the important thing in the world.

- Jack knows he can't exactly hurt you nor Brunhilde, plus with the current events fighting between themselves wouldn't exactly be a strategic advantage and only cost them everything.

- You're so stoic all the time, he's heard your backstory and he understands why, but if you soften up or become more expressive to Brunhilde then it just confirms his fears. If you're more tender and soft with him then he feels like crying tears of joy. Does this mean you see him as precious to your heart as he sees you?

- He feels like he understands you, better than anyone here. Both of you driven by your families to become the monsters you are. Both of you died tragically, alone, and as either traitor or heartless but both sharing the title of ruthless killers.

Yandere! Hercules:

- Okay so let's say he and Jack's battle ended in a draw, he confronts Brunhilde for using a serial killer to represent humanity and you just see some big man coming towards your Lady looking very hostile.

- You draw your sword and put it to his chest, narrowing your eyes and daring him to come any closer. It takes him a while to realize what you are and when he does, he glares at Brunhilde.

- "First a killer and now a demon?" He glares, his gaze hardening. You simply warn him to mind his tounge but Brunhilde assures you that Hercules will not harm her and you listen to her and bow your head in apology.

- Which he didn't expect. After all, demons are supposed to be heartless killers who preyed on humans, yet you seemed to be genuine with your apology and remained silent. Of course, that wasn't enough to change his mind about you and how he didn't think you'd deserve to represent humanity, but it was enough where he grew curious about you.

- His obsession with you grew over the next few interactions that you two have with each other. Yes you're appearance may be off putting to most but there was also something about you that Hercules could never seem to get off his mind. The way you didn't seem to look down on your fellow humans and followed them silently, the amount of respect you had towards the Gods and their abilities, not really hating them like how your fellow humans did.

- There have been times where you seem to show human emotions. Such as concern with Okita gets coerced into fighting that instigator of a God, Loki, and you help heal him with such care and precision. Hercules honestly is surprised to see an ounce of humanity within you.

- He loves Brunhilde like a sister, he truly does, but even he can't deny that she has her wicked schemes and while she seems to hold you in high regard, he worries about your safety. Perhaps he challenges you to a friendly fight, since he's seen your strength and Blood Demon Art at work, and he tries to convince you.

- Convince you to not be so loyal to Brunhilde, that you'd simply be just another sacrifice in her game of chess, and that she wouldn't really care about you. He gets increasingly frustrated in the fight because you're quite adamant on ignoring him and saying you're aware. This causes him to be a bit more brutal in his battle with you.

- He stops when he sees that he's injured you, regret and guilt for what he's done as he helps you up and promises it was an accident. Hercules will help you but seeing your hurt is horrible and he made his own fears come true, that the other God's would do something 10x as worse to you.

- I think he'd kidnap you after this, since you both are on completely different sides so he can't keep an eye on you unlike the other two. So he genuinely just wants to keep you safe and he will apologize but he won't let you leave. You don't understand how dangerous this battle is and Brunhilde could always put someone else in your place...just, anyone but you.