#she was clearly hiding from The Gaze of the Eagles

[blurred-cat]

i.................................................... fucking saw a Possibly garter snake on my run right in the path of LEFT FOOT STEP OH NO in the shade of a trail today and fucking basically barked at it.

for fucks sake.

i've been around The Dogs for too long.

it was such a visceral and sudden reaction i had no control of it. i saw someone on an adjacent path look over at me. i know i looked like a complete loon. arms in the air. dancing backward slightly going "WO-WO-WO!"

and the speed at which she fled clearly indicated the fright was mutual

[slavicdelight]

METANOIA

Pairing: Tom Riddle x f!reader

Summary: Metanoia - the journey of changing your mind, heart, self and way of life

Warnings: slightly ooc Tom, pureblood ideas, hits of murder

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Tom Riddle was a name recognized by everyone at Hogwarts. The infamous Slytherin Head Boy commanded respect from every student and even from professors, thanks to the aura surrounding him. However, what most people didn't know, or perhaps didn't care to notice, was that there was something sinister lurking behind his captivating gaze and mannerisms.

His friend group, constantly present by his side, consisted of members from the most well-known pureblood families. Tom considered himself superior to them because he possessed the blood of the noble Salazar Slytherin. By the age of 19, he had already committed horrifying acts, such as opening the Chamber of Secrets during his 5th year, resulting in the death of Myrtle Warren. He also murdered his remaining family around the same time. Furthermore, he created Horcruxes in order to reach immortality, which was one of his goals and the initial step towards becoming the greatest dark wizard in history.

Tom was a skilled manipulator. He had the ability to hide his true emotions, always putting on a mask of politeness. In addition, he was brilliant and could be described as an over-achiever. Tom thoroughly planned everything and never allowed setbacks to hinder him. There was only one person who saw right through him - Dumbledore, the person Tom despised the most in the entire school.

Tonight, Tom was strolling through the hallways of Hogwarts, carrying out his patrols as a Head Boy. Although it was generally a mundane duty, it had its advantages. One of them was being out after curfew without anyone questioning it. The corridors were dimly lit, so Tom had to cast a spell to produce light to see clearly."Lumos." he muttered, before continuing on his way. It appeared to be another uneventful night, where nothing of particular interest occurred.

As he was heading back to the Slytherin dorms, someone bumped into him, causing both teenagers to fall to the ground. "I'm so sorry," said a girl who appeared to be about the same age as him, possibly a year younger. He was about to reprimand her for running into him and give her detention for breaking curfew, but then he looked at her and was instantly captivated by the most beautiful pair of eyes he had even seen. They were warm and welcoming, but what truly enthralled him was their enchanting violet color, which sparkled under the light emerging from his wand.

"I should've watched where I was going," continued the witch. He cleared his throat and gave her a cold stare, trying to hide his intrigue. "Why aren't you in your dorm? It's past curfew," Tom questioned the girl. Another surprising thing was that he had no idea who she was. He only noticed the Ravenclaw emblem on her robes, indicating that she was a member of the eagle house. The Slytherin prided himself on knowing almost everyone at school, from students to professors, yet he didn't know her. How could someone with such captivating eyes escape his attention? "Oh, right. I got caught up in the library and forgot about the curfew," she explained. "I'll go straight to bed." With that, she tried to pass him and walk away.

She wanted to end the interaction as quickly as possible, knowing that Tom Riddle was trouble. Despite his perfect student persona, she sensed a hidden darkness beneath the surface and wanted to avoid getting involved. "Now, now. I can't possibly let the witch with such incredible eyes leave without knowing her name, can I?" he asked, causing her to freeze. "I fail to see how my name is of any interest to you, Riddle. I would prefer you not knowing it and allowing me to go.”

Tom didn't expect his charm not to work, but he hid his surprise. He wondered if the girl was brave or stupid, perhaps both. She didn't know that she piqued his interest, and that was something dangerous. "It hardly seems fair that you know me, but I don't know you, don't you think?" He took a step closer to her but didn't predict what she would do next. "No, I don't," she said, while taking a step back and bolting in another direction. The Head Boy simply stood there and let her get away. 'Let her run,' he thought. 'I shall find her anyway.' And with that, he continued on his way to the dorms.

The next morning, during breakfast, he scanned the Great Hall in search of her. Tom tried to be discreet, but his best friend, Abraxas Malfoy, noticed. Abraxas was his most reliable follower, someone Tom could trust. "What are you looking for, Riddle?" he asked. The boy with raven hair turned to glare at him and said, "It's none of your business, Malfoy." He was becoming increasingly frustrated that the witch from the previous night was nowhere to be found.

Finally, the girl made her entrance, walking into the hall accompanied by another girl. They both headed towards the Ravenclaw's table and took a seat. He couldn't help but gaze at her. It was as if she sensed his gaze, as she turned and looked directly into his eyes. Their staring contest continued until Headmaster Dippet began greeting students and wishing them a good day.

After finishing his meal, Tom made his way to the Potions classroom, his first subject of the day. He enjoyed this class, despite Professor Slughorn being a bit overwhelming. Tom was the professor's favorite student, excelling in this class just as he did in every other. He was an exceptionally talented wizard.

It turned out he shared the class with the violet-eyed witch. He wondered why he hadn't noticed her before. He took his usual seat and waited for the Ravenclaw student to enter, which didn't take long. She sat two rows ahead of him, accompanied by a boy he recognized as the Ravenclaw's seeker. Shortly after, Slughorn entered and the lesson began. Today, they had to brew an advanced potion called the Elixir to Induce Euphoria in pairs. As always, Tom was the first to finish his potion, with the help of his partner, Rosier. The potions professor, impressed with their work, allowed them to leave early. Tom decided to wait outside the classroom to talk to the girl who had sparked his interest and learn more about her.

As the girl walked out, he quickly grabbed her hand and dragged her towards the abandoned broom closet across the hall. She protested, but wasn't strong enough to break free from his grasp. Tom pushed her inside and blocked the entrance.

"Hello again," he said, noticing the anger on the girl's face. "What do you think you're doing? Let me go!" she yelled, attempting to escape from the classroom.

"No, I don't think I will," Tom replied. "What do you want, Riddle?" she questioned, gritting her teeth. Her captivating eyes locked with his, and he could swear they had the power to melt a man. But he was no ordinary man, and he wouldn't allow that to defeat him. "I already told you what I want," he started, before she interrupted, "and I already told you that you won't have that." The girl had some nerve, he had to give her that. "Listen, darling, either you tell me your name yourself or I'll find out on my own. But I would prefer to hear it from your beautiful lips.”

"And what?" she spat, her eyes narrowing with a mix of defiance and fear. "Will you force it out of me?" If looks could kill, he would already be six feet under. Tom's lips curled into a malicious smirk as he leaned in closer, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. "You'll soon discover that I can be very..." He paused, relishing in the anticipation he was building. "...persuasive." The words hung in the air, sending a shiver down her spine. As he observed her reaction, he couldn't help but notice the subtle trembling of her breath, a sign that his presence and words were affecting her.

“If I tell you my name, would you stop pestering me about it?” she asked not looking into his eyes. Tom grabbed her chin and forced her head up, just enough for him to see her eyes. The Slytherin just nodded and took a step back. “Fine. My name is Y/N” she finally answered and moved past him, heading straight for the door. As Y/N was walking away she heard him say “Such a beautiful name, for someone with such extraodrinary eyes.”

Y/N felt a chill run down her spine as she left the broom closet, the encounter with Tom Riddle leaving her unsettled. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had just opened a door to a world of complications. Her day continued with classes, but her mind kept wandering back to the mysterious encounter with the enigmatic Head Boy.

Days turned into weeks, and Tom's fascination with Y/N only deepened. He started to make subtle attempts to engage her in conversation during Potions class or whenever their paths crossed in the hallways. Y/N, however, remained guarded, careful not to reveal too much about herself. She sensed danger around Tom, but there was also a part of her that felt an inexplicable connection, an undeniable intrigue that kept her from avoiding him completely. She didn’t like it, preferring to stay away from the drama that would undeniably follow her once she got too involved with the boy.

As time passed, Tom's pursuit became more relentless. He would show up unexpectedly in places where Y/N was, asking about her interests, her family, and her background. Y/N, althrough in the beginning sheltered and slightly annoyed, soon found herself drawn into conversations that danced on the edge of forbidden topics, and Tom, turn, discovered that there was more to Y/N than met the eye.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Tom found Y/N sitting by the Black Lake,reading a book . He approached her cautiously, and for the first time, his demeanor seemed less calculated, more genuine."You're a puzzle, Y/N," he said, his voice softer than usual. "I can't quite figure you out." Y/N turned to look at him, her violet eyes searching his face for any sign of deception. "Maybe some puzzles are meant to remain unsolved," she replied cryptically. Tom chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down her spine. "Maybe so, yet here we are. Both of us puzzling each other. But I do enjoy the challenge." he admitted. "And you, my dear, are the most intriguing challenge I've found at Hogwarts so far."

As the weeks turned into months, their interactions became more complex. Y/N found herself reluctantly drawn to Tom's charisma and intelligence, while Tom, discovered a more vulnerable side of himself. He couldn't quite understand why Y/N had such an effect on him, but he was determined to find out.

Their dynamic took a turn one evening in the Hogwarts library. Tom, managed to convince Y/N to join him in exploring the restricted section. As they looked through ancient tomes and hidden spells, Y/N couldn't ignore the growing tension between them. In the quiet space of the library, Tom leaned in, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "There's something about you, Y/N," he murmured, his breath sending shivers across her skin. "Something that both intrigues and unsettles me." Y/N looked at him curiously and asked “What is so unsettling about me?”. Tom only looked at her and leaning closer said “You’re making me feel things I’ve never felt before.”

As they continued their meetings, the lines between friend and enemy slowly became blurred. Tom’s past and his ambitions started to rub off on her, making her question everything. But she wasn’t weak and wanted to stay true to the right side. She wasn’t about to go down the same path as the Slytherin boy, and wanted to make him see that it was wrong. Little did she know that the choices made in the upcoming months would shape the destiny of the wizarding world.

As the weeks unfolded, Y/N found herself in a dangerous position. The more time she spent with Tom Riddle, the clearer it became that he was wavering on the edge of darkness. His thirst for power, his relentless pursuit of immortality, and the shadows of his past painted a grim picture. Yet, among all this darkness, Y/N saw moments of vulnerability, moments where the mask slipped, revealing a fractured soul. Y/N couldn't ignore the pull she felt toward Tom, a pull that went beyond fascination. Beneath his charming facade, she noticed loneliness that mirrored her own.

One evening, as snowflakes danced outside the castle windows, Y/N found Tom alone in the library. The fire cast a glow on his face, making him appear more handsome than ever. Y/N hesitated but she knew she had to ask the next question. "Tom," she began softly, "there's something I've been meaning to ask you." He looked up, his piercing gaze meeting hers. "Ask away, Y/N."

"Why are you so afraid of letting people in?" she inquired, her voice gentle but filled with genuine curiosity. Tom's eyes moved towards her, she could see suffering behind them. He took a deep breath before replying to her."People often betray and are fake in order to get what they want from you. After they get it, they leave and never come back.” Y/N took a step closer, closing the distance between them. "But it's also lonely, isn't it? To carry the weight of responsibilities on your shoulders without anyone to share it with."

Tom's mask wavered, revealing the boy beneath the facade. "Loneliness is a small price to pay for greatness," he stated, but a small amount of doubt could be seen in his eyes. "Maybe attaining greatness isn’t meant to be done alone." Y/N suggested. "Maybe it's in the connections we make, the people we let in"

In the days that followed, Y/N continued to challenge Tom's perspective. She introduced him to the joy of laughter, the warmth of genuine friendships, and the beauty of simple moments. As the walls around his heart slowly crumbled, Y/N became a beacon of light in his world, a reminder that there was more to life than power and darkness.

One evening, beneath the sky covered in stars, Y/N and Tom found themselves strolling through the Hogwarts grounds. Tom, usually composed, seemed uncertain, as if something was bothering him. "You don't have to be alone, Tom," Y/N whispered, her words carrying the weight of sincerity. "There's goodness in you, which you only have to choose." For the first time, Tom Riddle looked genuinely conflicted. The darkness within him warred with the flickers of light that Y/N had ignited. He was standing on the crossroads where the choices made would shape the future.

In the quiet of the night, Y/N extended her hand, a silent invitation to choose a different path. Tom hesitated, his gaze locking onto hers. And in that moment, the boy who had been consumed by shadows took a small step toward the light, changing the course of history forever. The journey towards redemption would be a long one, but with Y/N by his side, Tom Riddle was confident in succeeding. He realized that greatness could be found not in the pursuit of power but in the capacity to love and be loved.

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A/N: let me introduce you to my first ever Tom Riddle imagine. The obsession I have with this man is unhealthy. Anyway let me know if you enjoyed it. Thank you for all the support ♡

[underdark-dreams]

Not sure if anyone is still following this oneshot, but I ended up writing a second chapter. Turns out I couldn't stop thinking about giving them a happier ending. (Rated M now 👀)

Rolan x Fem!Tav (Unnamed)

Good Night For Company - ch. 2

Tags: Mild Angst, Sexual Content

Word Count: 4,794 [Read on AO3]

Rolan had spent many hours cursing his timidity that night. 

He’d lain sleepless at his camp as the sky lightened outside the Emerald Grove, replaying each moment in his mind. The look in her eye when she asked to kiss him—her hand tugging him toward her tent—the lovely way she collapsed against him when his lips found her soft neck.

He'd escaped the very fires of Avernus itself with his whole family miraculously alive and in tow. Yet confronted with the puzzle of her hands drawing him down to her bedroll, his mind had seized up in uncertainty. How much easier could she have made it for him?

Although, he allowed himself, he had made some sense that night. For one who daydreamed of her face as often as Rolan, the strain in her features was instantly noticeable by campfire light. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and shadowed with dark, tired circles. Even her skin seemed drained of its usual color. She needed a good night’s sleep more than anything.

But as they said their goodbyes that night outside his campsite, Rolan's hands still holding her shoulders, he could have sworn she wanted him just as badly as he did her.

Rolan shut his eyes with a groan—her face only swam behind his eyelids, that same invitation drawing him into her gaze. He pressed palms to his eye sockets until she burst apart into popping stars.

When he opened them, he was back in the torchlight of Last Light Inn and sitting in his grim new reality. There was empty silence on either side of him where Cal and Lia should have stood chattering.

Rolan dragged his tankard back towards him across the bar, until he peered down and saw the bottom.

"You two," he snapped at the little Tieflings behind the bar. The boys' conspiratorial giggles hushed immediately as they both looked at him. "Are you tending bar or not?" He waved his empty mug toward them.

"I don't know," Ide said, brows lowering in a skeptical line. Rolan tutted at him.

"It's not difficult. Bottle," he pointed at the open dry red behind the bar. "Cup," he continued, waving a hand in front of him. 

"Mistress Jaheira said not to over-pour," Umi piped up, clearly not knowing the term but understanding the sentiment behind it.

"Mistress Jaheira didn't save both your hides from the Shadow Curse, did she?" Rolan snapped. He badly needed another drink; unwelcome lucidity threatened to close in. "If it weren't for me, who knows whether you two would still be out there right now."

“Stop it, mister Rolan,” Ide insisted. Rolan was opening his mouth to chastise him before he caught sight of Umi’s lip trembling. 

The child was already a timid thing. Through the recent memories of too many kin lying on the road, Rolan recalled Asharak, the childrens’ fighting instructor from the Grove. He’d been cut down before their young eyes just days ago. Umi seemed especially affected by the loss. No doubt the man’s body still lay spread-eagle on the path up the hill; the urgency of survival had left no time to bury their dead.

Rolan gave a heavy sigh as he watched the child’s forlorn face. Yet again, he felt like a monster. “Go. I swear I’ll practice moderation. And if Jaheira asks, tell her I ordered you off.”

The two of them scampered away without a response, clearly eager to get away from Rolan at the first chance. If only he could escape his own unpleasant company just as easily. 

But that, Rolan reminded himself, was what all this wine was for. He lurched across the bar for the bottle and tipped the rest of its contents into his tankard. Its heat down his throat welcomed him back toward oblivion.

If he still lived, their errant paladin had everything to answer for. Whether he’d lost his senses to the curse or just lost his mind entirely, Rolan cursed Zevlor for the umpteenth time for fucking off with the cultists and landing him in this unwelcome position of authority. 

Rolan was no leader…at best a very, very uninspiring one. The yoke should have fallen to someone brave and selfless. Someone like broad-shouldered Ikaron. But Ikaron was now another empty body lying along the Risen Road, to be slowly consumed by the shadows.

Rolan knew he was no beacon of encouragement. He’d done his best to herd the other panicked survivors onward, however, using every last bit of evocation knowledge he had to keep them surrounded with light and flame.

He also knew it was sheer good fortune that saved them in the end. If they hadn’t found the sanctuary of Last Light Inn when they did, they’d all be shambling undead by now.

Yet somehow in the days since the ambush, he found all the children hovering around him with frightened eyes, asking him questions he barely knew the answers to himself. How were they going to save the ones who’d been taken by the cult?

Perhaps his unpleasant habit of ordering others about was finally coming around to bite him in the ass.

Nevertheless, Rolan felt vexed and inconvenienced by the unasked responsibility. Weren't his siblings enough of a weight on his shoulders already? Saving everyone would be a miracle; all he could privately hope for was Cal and Lia returned to him. 

If they’re still alive. Those were the thoughts that drove him to drink, and drink he did, tipping back the pewter vessel with abandon. In between bouts of liquor, however, Rolan’s mind was working as hard as it ever had. 

Cal and Lia would be at Moonrise Towers. No question. Moonrise was the headquarters of this insane Absolute cult, the one whose small patrol had butchered their numbers on the road. And a fortress of that size had to have a dungeon of some sort on the lower level. Why would they go through the trouble of taking them alive just to kill them? They must have plans for them all—ones Rolan tried not to imagine in detail.

He had to think of a way to slip through unnoticed—possibly by river, if the rumors he’d overheard from the Harpers were right. How far could he get on his own? Asking any of his fellows for help was out of the question. 

Rolan glanced across the common room at what pitiful few remained. Alfira sat near the open hearth, fingers going through the motions of tuning her lute strings. Her usually cheerful eyes were blank and distant. Rolan hadn’t heard her play a single note since Lakrissa had been taken with his siblings. He should have thought to comfort her, but that kind of gentleness never seemed to occur to him.

Rolan crossed his arms on the bar and dropped his horns to them. If only he’d thought faster, acted sooner, left the others to fend for themselves in order to grab hold of his brother and sister before their screams grew distant. His sharp nails dug into his palms as the sound replayed in his mind. 

He wished he had anyone besides himself to be angry at. He wished he could be angry at her.

If only she'd never taught Cal and Lia how to hope to fight back or be heroes. If only she'd never taught him how to hope…for anything, he decided. For any single single thing he might wish were possible.

Through his haze of drunken self-pity, his ears pricked at some kind of shouting and commotion out front. No doubt another attack by some new shadow-cursed horror. Rolan heard one of the little ones begin calling his name. 

"I’m coming, I’m coming,” Rolan spat, sliding petulantly to his feet as one hand reached for the quarterstaff leaning against the bar. “The damned hells is it this time?" He didn’t care what language the child might hear, but young Mattis was unphased.

“Stow your frown—” Mattis was grinning toothily. “Goblin killer finally made it!”

“What?” But the boy was already gone, bounding away from him through the front doors. Rolan swallowed dry against his fuzzy tongue. He felt fully awake for the first time in days, and he gripped the bar to steady himself before his feet stumbled forward.

Jaheira's enchanted vines were disentangling from her legs just as Rolan entered the courtyard. It was fortunate; he'd grown to respect Jaheira, and it would've been a shame to have to hex her. Rolan jostled through the gathered Harpers without a care in order to push closer. 

She and her companions had been waylaid just past the bridge. Harper Lassandra was relaying a report in her defense, it seemed, but all Rolan could concentrate on was her face.

Her cheeks were splattered with dark, shadow-magic blood. One of her sleeves was ripped open at the shoulder, displaying another patch of blood-stained skin at the seam of her leather jerkin. By the dark circles under her eyes, she still hadn't slept properly since the Grove.

She was the most beautiful thing Rolan had seen in weeks.

Her eyes came to rest on his own face then; he watched her blink hard, as if she might be dreaming.

"Rolan?" She croaked out softly. 

He had already half-closed the gap by the time she started toward him. They caught each other so hard Rolan felt the air leave his lungs in a huff, but he gathered whatever of her familiar scent he could, tinged with coppery blood though it was.

“I’m so glad you’re—I’m so glad,” she laughed shakily into his shoulder. Rolan wished he could kiss her, but it didn’t feel right in front of so many other eyes. He settled for standing back with his arms circled tight around her middle.

"Where's Lia and Cal?" She glanced around behind him, her smile fading. Rolan should have expected her constant concern for others by now, but could only look at her. Her eyes landed back on his face. "Zevlor?" She added quietly.

“Come inside.” Jaheira’s voice interrupted the silence between them. “We can talk over a drink.” 

As the druid directed forces back to their posts, Rolan felt her slip out from under his arms. She approached Gale to ask something—Rolan saw the wizard glance his direction before he replied.

“Come on,” she said, jogging back into his embrace. 

“What about Jaheira?”

“Gale can handle it, he’s good at talking.” She notched herself back firm against his side as they walked in. “I’d rather hear from you.”

Rolan tried his best not to stumble up the stairs beside her. He cursed his impulse to reach for the bottle at any sorrow—he must reek of it. If he did, she was kind enough not to say anything.

He led her to the empty room beside the cleric’s and shut the heavy door behind them.

“We were ambushed,” he said in a rush, before she could open her mouth. “Cal and Lia were grabbed up by those monsters on wings. Along with others. They’re being held at Moonrise.”

“We’ll find them.” Her voice was automatic and steely-certain. 

Rolan nodded, borrowing what strength he could from her eyes. “We will.”

“I thought…Zevlor was leading you,” she prompted him slowly, as if she might not want to know the answer. He only shook his head at her. How could he explain what he didn’t understand himself?

“We took the same path here that you did,” she admitted to him. Rolan knew what she was saying. He remembered each and every blank, upturned face that shrank to a pinpoint in the darkness as he led the survivors away. 

“I’m so sorry, Rolan.” His numbness was broken by her two hands rising to hold his face. “I just—I’m so fucking sorry—”

For some reason, his grief felt more real than it had yet. Rolan looked down at her bloodstained face and folded his fingers around one of her wrists. It would be idiotic to cry in front of her, so he kissed her instead.

His lips shook against hers, from sorrow and from want in equal measure. Rolan didn’t want to think about his dead friends, or his family waiting for rescue in a dark dungeon—just for a moment, he wished he could lose himself in her. She was the one person he could let himself unravel with.

“Rolan, wait—” But she didn’t want him to wait. Rolan heard it in her breathless voice against his lips, felt it in the way her hands clutched at his clothing to pull him closer.

He knew she must taste the alcohol on his breath. Hadn’t he said something to her that night in her tent? Something about wine and sex being a bad mix.

Foolish words of a foolish man who still thought he'd have time to do things properly. Rolan couldn’t remember them, and right now, this seemed like the best thing that could ever happen in such a desolate place. 

Was it so wrong to want her? Even now, with the rest of his life crumbling around him? 

Only his very real feelings for her could have broken through the haze. With a lurch of effort, Rolan stumbled back from her. The four walls of their room pressed in unbearably quiet without the sounds of hands and lips filling the air. Her eyes shone dark to him in the candlelight, pupils blown wide in a way that his deepest instincts recognized with primal satisfaction. He was certain his eyes blazed with just as much desire. 

Rolan licked his lips, gathering his last shreds of control. “Tell me to go,” he rasped. “Say it, and I will.”

He was rooted to the spot to await her judgment. She was silent before him, only a soft pant from between her lips. Rolan stood there for what felt like an agonizing eternity as her eyes traveled over his face. 

So slowly it felt like a dream, she raised one arm across to her opposite shoulder. The gesture made no sense to him at first. Until Rolan heard buckles clicking and watched the plates of her leather armor shed from her chest like scales to the floorboards.

Her tunic was next, and before Rolan could ready himself it was up over her head and thrown on top of her armor, her bare breasts covered only by a few stray wisps of her hair. 

He swayed where he stood, lightheaded; her darkly shining eyes didn’t break from his for a moment, even as her hands were already moving to the fastenings of her belt.

Rolan felt an ache like loss. Those should be his hands—gently undressing her, taking his time as he slowly unveiled each new and beautiful expanse of her flesh—not the two of them rushing through this first moment of newness that they’d never get back. Because even as the thought occurred, he himself was ripping his own robes off his shoulders without a care for the state of them. They would have time enough some other night.

She was faster, already kicking her pants off her bare feet. She wore nothing underneath—the realization brought a groan from his throat. Once his last garments dropped forgotten to the floor, she practically pounced.

Rolan had just enough reflex to catch her as she threw her body against his. Her bare skin on his was electric, filling his mind with wild want even as he tried to take in every sensation at once. Her taut breasts pressed against his chest—fingers lovingly exploring the ridges on his shoulders and back—the heat between her legs barely grazing against his thigh, yet enough to send his mind reeling. She made him feel real again.

And her lips—how could he have already forgotten how sweet she tasted? He kissed her back with hunger, wishing he might dissolve into her soft warmth for good.

Rolan wasn’t as strong as he wished, and he was tipsy as all hells, but he did his best as he guided their bodies down on top of their clothing. Her hips and shoulders thumped under his weight against the wood boards. Surely it must have hurt her—but then he felt her legs cross behind his bare flanks, rutting their hips together, and every other concern was lost.

Slick wetness pressed against his pelvis as she rolled herself against him. The proof of how much she wanted him, if Rolan had any lingering doubts. He fell braced on his forearms around her.

“I missed you so much,” she gasped against his lips. Rolan paused everything as his eyes opened to meet hers, almost too close to focus. “Rolan, I wish we—I should have—” Her face shone with more yearning than he could bear.

"I know, dearest, I know—" The endearment fell with shocking ease from his lips. Though he might share them, tonight was not for regrets. There were enough of those going around to last a lifetime. 

Rolan stopped them with his mouth, licking and tasting her as deeply as she would let him, one hand splaying under her thigh to angle her hips deeper against his own. 

With anyone else, Rolan might have felt self-conscious about how hard he’d been since the moment she undressed for him. With her, what would be the point? She'd confessed more with her body and her words than he'd ever expected.

His ridged length pressed between them, his underside slickening with each rocking motion she made against him. He broke from her slightly.

"Tell me." The words came out husky. Rolan didn't mean them to tease her, only wanted her to direct him, but the way she squirmed under him was addictive.

"I want you," she breathed, and he felt fingers clasp behind his neck. "Please, Rolan—"

How could he deny her anything? Rolan grabbed himself to guide and nudge his tip to her folds, spreading her wetness along his length best he could. She deserved so much better than a hard floor in the middle of nowhere. But everything felt too urgent, like they were at the edge of the world’s end. And her face held nothing but eagerness as she watched him.

Gently, slowly, he guided himself just inside her. She was perfect; Rolan's head dropped to her chest as he exhaled with a shudder.

"Oh—" She only let out the little gasp, but her hands hooked under his ears, tilting his head back up so she could press lips to his forehead and eyelids. 

"More," she purred against him.

Reflexive, Rolan pushed into her to the hilt and let out a groan at how perfectly she gripped him. She hummed in satisfaction, her legs pressing tighter around his hips to hold him there.

It was somehow tender and frantic all at once. Rolan's hips rolled into her with increasing urgency, even as he cradled her face up toward his with both his forearms, wanting to watch each sensation play out over her face.

When he hit a new angle inside her, her fingers actually gripped one of his horns as her lips gasped open. It sent a shudder reverberating through his core.

"So good," she gasped. "You feel so perfect—"

He would do anything to keep it feeling that way for her. He ducked his mouth to her breast, sliding his tongue over one tight bud and sucking her into his mouth.

"Fuck, Rolan—" Her voice canted up a register, and he felt her walls tremble and grip around him with each thrust. Her fingers clutched sweetly at the ridges over his shoulder blades.

In the back of his mind Rolan wondered whether the whole inn could hear his name on her lips, but he wasn't sure he cared, wasn't sure he didn't fucking love the idea in fact.

Both of them were starved for it, and neither of them could last much longer. Rolan groaned something into the flesh of her breast, words lost to the way her body shook under him just as he unraveled all around her. He collapsed against her soft chest and held her tight with trembling arms.

—---

"What did you say before?" 

As he drifted back to reality, Rolan lifted his head from her to rest his chin on her stomach. "Hmm?" 

She was looking down at him with shy curiosity. "When you came," she said. He loved hearing words like that casually tumble from her. "You said something, I didn't recognize the language."

Rolan realized with some embarrassment that she was right. "I did, didn't I." He moved to press his lips along her abdomen, as if it might distract her from the topic. But she was far too stubborn for that.

"Going to tell me or not?" He felt his insides melt as she traced her thumb along the lines of one of his pointed ears.

Rolan regretted letting her in on that fact about Tiefling anatomy, and he told her so with a grumble. She only laughed and gave his ear point a teasing tug.

Rolan closed his eyes against the feeling instead. "It's Infernal," he admitted to her. He hadn't spoken the tongue in many years; the fact he remembered any was a surprise even to himself.

"Oh." She didn't sound put off, only curious. "What did it mean?"

He carefully considered how to answer. "There's…not a word in Common that directly translates." Rolan met her eyes as his lips brushed absently near her navel. "A feeling that cleanses like holy fire. 'Love of salvation.'"

She gazed down at him. "That's the most romantic thing I've ever heard," she whispered.

Rolan reached to smooth her hair across her forehead. "Is it? To be cleansed, you have to be corrupted first."

"Is that an offer?" she asked, a grin teasing at the corners of her mouth. “I mean, we’re all pretty corrupted around here. Don’t forget I’ve already got a worm in the head.”

Abruptly, she pushed herself seated upright; Rolan caught himself back against his knees.

"I’m an idiot," she gasped. “Rolan—that’s how I get to the Moonrise dungeons. This tadpole makes me a True Soul. I can walk right through the fucking front door!”

Anxiety gripped him as he watched the excitement unfold on her face. Rolan wasn't sure he could watch her willingly rush into a den of vipers. 

"I'm coming with you," he insisted, already knowing she would tell him no. She shook her head at him.

“I wish you could,” she told him, and he believed her. “You're not tadpoled, the guards would know. But I'll take as many of my companions as I can, I swear. We can do this," she added, gripping his forearm.

It was all too fast; Rolan caught her hand before she could rise. "Wait," he implored firmly. “Let me travel with you to the bridge, at least.”

That she agreed to. They dressed quickly—though Rolan couldn't resist grabbing her a few times to kiss what bare flesh was still exposed, absolutely adoring the way she melted under his hands and mouth each time.

When he and her party stood at the bridge to the Tower, Rolan regretted agreeing to this all over again. She only gave him a quick peck on the lips with the soft promise of more later, and headed down the walkway with her companions.

Rolan stayed back in the shadows to watch her speak with the guards. His heart pounded in his throat. There was a short exchange; even his sensitive ears couldn’t catch the words. But then the guards stood down, and she and her friends walked freely through the front doors of Moonrise Towers. He allowed himself to feel a sliver of hope.

Back at the Inn, Rolan paced around the hall for what felt like an eternity. Mol complained he was making her dizzy. In reality, it couldn't have been more than a few hours. 

When he heard the soft shout of the patrol below, Rolan rushed through the wide doors and down to the underground port.

Cal and Lia stood alive and well on the wooden docks. Her too, further down the line—she even caught his eye with a smile. Rolan could have laughed in relief, but the guards curtly ordered him back while the Harper on duty checked them over with Jaheira's bottled tadpole. 

Rolan deeply wished to aim a cantrip at the man's skull, but he clenched his fists to gather his last remaining shreds of patience.

When they were cleared, all of them dashed together. Rolan gripped Cal and Lia's heads with a hand each, holding them tight against him.

"You absolute fucking idiots—" Rolan was half scolding, half trying not to cry. "Don't you dare stick your necks out like that again, do you hear me?"

"I'll remember that the next time we get kidnapped by murderous lunatics," Lia's voice said into his shoulder, but she was squeezing his ribs tight.

"Sorry," was Cal's only meek response, and Rolan stifled the juvenile urge to rumple his little brother's hair. 

"Just get inside," Rolan said as he released them. "When was the last time you both ate?"

They both complained over his continued fussing, but each of them obeyed him in the end. The return of bickering and normality somehow eased a weight from Rolan's heart. 

As the Tieflings he knew and the deep gnomes he didn't all made their way up the stairs to the Inn, Rolan linked his arm around her waist beside him.

"I love you," he told her first, low so that only she could hear. Then—"thank you."

"Thank those lot up there," she told him, though he heard through the smile in her voice that she hadn't missed his confession. "They were ready to fight tooth and nail out of there. I just unlocked the bars."

In the dark Rolan placed a swift kiss on the crown of her head, and was rewarded by the feel of her cheek leaning sideways against his shoulder.

Last Light Inn still had an undeniable gloom to it, but it was lightened considerably by the reunions of friends and lovers. To Rolan's eye the hall seemed practically packed compared to a few hours earlier.

His siblings settled back at the bar, removed from the chatter at the hearth. Rolan watched them toast each other with two very well-earned pints. As they both launched into conflicting narratives of their adventure, Rolan felt a deep sense of ease soak into his bones.

"This one's fucking amazing, by the way—" Lia was gesturing her mug to the woman at Rolan's side. "Watched her cut down a Moonrise guard with one swing of a sword. You better have thanked her properly, Rolan," she added.

His sister was clever; Rolan strongly suspected she knew what she was doing. He decided to play dumb for the sake of the dear person beside him, whose cheeks he could practically feel burning from here.

"Believe me, I will," Rolan said. As he spoke, he drew her toward him again with an arm around her middle.

Cal was significantly slower on the uptake. "Eughh." He let out an amused noise of disgust. "Why don't you two just kiss each other alre—"

But Rolan's lips were already on hers, tilting her chin up and back with a hand so he could capture her mouth. His other arm wrapped her shoulders back against his chest, and he felt her fingers grip tight over his forearm. As they gently broke apart, the quiet lasted only for a second.

"Twelve pints at the Elfsong." Lia smacked the bar next to Cal. "That's it, you owe me."

"Taking bets on my fucking love life now?" Rolan began, his indignance slightly undercut by the fact that his love in question was shaking with laughter under his arm, both hands clasped over her face.

In the end, Rolan left his siblings to argue over the details. He was too overwhelmed with embarrassment and the desire to save her from any of the same.

As he drew her back up the stairs, Rolan felt her shoulders shaking with laughter again under his arm. He glanced sideways, wondering what had ruined the mood now.

“What?” he prompted her.

“Nothing, it’s just—” She was positively sparkling as she looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Can we use the bed this time?”

With a mortifying jolt, Rolan realized there was indeed a perfectly serviceable bed in the room where he’d unceremoniously taken her on the floor.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

“Plenty of time for that,” she agreed, biting her lip as she drew him with her hand. “Now come on.”

[brittle-doughie]

SMOKED CHEESE DESERVES SOME LOVE TOO!

Might I request a Smoked Cheese x reader secinaro?

“Tonight, we’re honored to have our very special guests with us: the venerated Mozzarella Cookie, Smoked Cheese Cookie, and His Reverence High Priest Cheesenbird!”

“But to really make this occasion of Monster Games special, the Royal Golden Cheese Colosseum would like to welcome its champion, Y/N Cookie!”

You just facepalmed with a sigh as the crowd roared particularly loud after the announcement of your presence, but you still waved to them with the others.

Did they really have to announce you out to the colosseum? When you’re not even fighting any of the monsters here?

You felt a hand drag across your back as Mozzarella Cookie went to your left, giggling as she did so.

“Hehe! Aw, is our champion getting a little antsy? It would’ve been too easy to bet on you winning!”

Another hand dragged across your back, it was to the right this time. Smoked Cheese Cookie made himself known.

“It is just squabbles amidst lowly beasts, my champion~ You shouldn’t trouble yourself with this one, it’s beneath you.”

Nothing is beneath you if it means you get to fight something. It doesn’t hurt to keep your skills sharpened, even if your opponent only lasted seconds…

“Do not worry, my champion. If you can wait until the Games are over, then I’ll challenge you to a fight…”

Smoked Cheese Cookie got really close to your face.

“I’d like to see for myself what the Royal Golden Cheese Colosseum’s greatest fighter is really made of~”

You stopped him. You quietly gestured to Cheesenbird.

Hey, Smoked Cheese. Not when Cheesenbird is here…

“Ahh, poor monsterz. I shall welcome them with open wingz. Everyone deserve healingz! Chirp! Chirp!”

“Fine.”

Smoked Cheese got annoyed, but ultimately relented as he walked back to his original spot, with Mozzarella giggling from the exchange.

You stopped him for a moment, as you placed a hand on his chin.

But…you weren’t turning down his offer for a chance at a duel with you. You wanted to know if he had the skills to back up the talk. Or he was not strong enough to handle you~?

Smoked Cheese scoffed as he nudged your hand away, but you can see his clearly flustered demeanor as you chuckled.

You could hear Mozzarella giggling again, causing you to turn your gaze at her, causing her to squeak as she could feel your eagle-like stare, a sinister smile plastered on your shadowed face.

Would she like to join Smoked Cheese in the duel? You could take on the both of them, it wouldn’t matter. The both of them wouldn’t last long against you anyway~

Mozzarella turned away from you, trying to hide her immense blush.

Yeah, that’s what you thought…

[kalolasfantasyworld]

Helloooo! Can I ask 1, 4, and 13 for the excerpt game? Thanks 😁

Hi Léa!

Thank you so much for asking 💕

Even though two of these repeated I am totally taking the chance to choose other excerpts which fit ^^

They may be a bit long, but I wanted them to make sense ⭐️

First kiss

4. Conversation after first kiss

13. First civil conversation with Solid and Nebra

1. One that makes me smile

I could answer this question so many times 😁 It’s a longer one, but first kiss

They sat there in silence admiring the view. It was very comfortable and serene, but she was getting bit cold. Helena pulled up a blanket and covered her feet with it. Nozel noticed her action.

“Next to you, by the wall, there is a small basket with fluffy socks,” he pointed towards it. “They may be a little too big for you, but I assure you they’re clean and warm.”

She smiled at him and reached for a pair.

“I only see you wearing sandals, so I’ve never pictured you as a person, who owns fluffy socks,” she chuckled. “You surprise me.”

He did not say anything just gazed at her, from underneath his braid. She thought that she saw his ears get slightly red, but it was quite dark, so Helena was not sure. Their eyes met. When she looked into the lilac abyss, she wondered, what if Nozel liked her too. 

Now that they were sitting so close, she actually thought it to be possible. He opened up to her about his struggles as a magic knight. She knew how caring he was, despite Nozel trying to hide it. They had small conversations and the day before he admitted, that he felt comfortable around her. Lastly he showed her this spot, which had a special place in his heart. Maybe it was not just Helena, who had these feelings. 

She wanted to ask, wanted to know, whether there could be something going on between them, or was it just an unrequited affection on her side. She had a question, but words got stuck in her throat. He was gazing at her attentively. The silver hair reflected the moonlight, giving him an almost celestial look. His lips were softly put together. The lower one bigger than the other.

“Nozel,” she whispered closing her eyes. 

Helena subtly leaned in towards him. It was a clear sign, of what she wanted. She needed to make sure, because after realising her feelings the uncertainty was eating her alive. Since she had no more words on her tongue, except for his name. She made a move. 

It was respectful. Helena made the first step, but it was up to Nozel, whether he would follow. He had a choice, that she let him make, and there were just two answers. Yes or no.

A chiller gust of air brushed her lips. She waited and nothing was happening. What if she made a mistake, if she read him wrong. Would it ruin their patiently built friendship? Helena slightly furrowed her eyebrows. She was getting worried and uncomfortable.

Suddenly she felt a soft touch on her lips. Long fingers cupped her left cheek. A pointy pendant brushed her nose. The sensation was amazing. Helena felt as if her emotions that had bubbled up, when she waited, exploded and flooded her with happiness. Even though his lips were quite dry, probably from the wind which hit them, when he flew on his silver eagle, Nozel’s touch heated her up and left her craving for more. 

He slowly pulled away. 

It was a shy kiss, a gentle and an unsure one. Helena opened her eyes bit by bit. She knew, that she was blushing. Even though she had kissed multiple times before, this one incomprehensibly felt like her first. The adrenaline, fear and desire filled her all at once. 

She looked up at him. Nozel’s face was only centimetres away. His braid was in the middle of it covering his nose. Now Helena could see clearly the red on his cheeks. His lips were slightly parted. Wide open, lilac eyes were piercing her. There was fascination in them, but also something darker, something that she could not name. Nozel blinked and then they became sharper, narrower, more predatory. His eagle-like hairstyle only added on to this effect. He closed his mouth. 

The tension was high and Helena could not stand it any longer. Her heart was about to burst out of her chest. She reached out her right arm and grabbed the back of his head. Her fingers clutched on to the silver strands. She pulled him towards her and pressed their lips together, much more aggressively this time. Helena felt his body tense. Nozel was surprised, but then he returned the kiss, with the same amount of heat and energy. His hand slid behind her waist and decisively gripped on. He pushed her back. Helena enjoyed this sudden determination, that he gave off. Her sweater fell off her shoulders, so she pulled it off.

Their breaths were heavy. The kisses felt impatient. Nozel was leaning over her. He brushed her slightly damp hair and tugged on it. A soft moan escaped Helena’s throat. He stopped and looked at her, pulling away. The lilac eyes were lost.

“Helena, what are we doing?” He asked, his voice slightly breathless. His hair was a bit messier now, that she had pulled on it. His lips looked redder, from all the heat and his face was flustered. The golden collar tightly snugged his neck. He seemed worried.

4. Another dialogue I’m proud of

This is kind of a follow up to the previous one, but somehow the dialogues I’m most proud of are those when they disagree a bit (or more than a bit)

They both looked away, thinking how to guide the conversation. Helena suddenly found the way that her red dress folded over her thighs very interesting. No! She reprimanded herself in her mind. She came here with a specific goal in mind and that was to talk to Nozel. She could not keep acting like a teenager with her first crush. Helena needed to be responsible.

“So about that kiss…” she started. Nozel looked up at her.

“It was amazing.”

“It was a mistake.”

They both said at the same time. Helena opened her mouth, shocked and hurt. Nozel looked sad and nervous. He closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. The feathery mantle made him seem more distant.

“A mistake?” She asked in an upset tone. “Care to explain why?”

“It’s just that we shouldn’t,” he said not looking at her. His tone was cold and emotionless. “I’m me and you’re you.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Helena was getting really agitated. She also crossed her arms over her chest. “Am I somehow not good enough for you?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he tried to explain and keep calm.

“Well that’s what you’re saying,” she interrupted him.

“I am not,” he spoke firmly, also getting angry. His brows were furrowed.

“Then what?!” She exclaimed. He sharply stood up from his chair and towered over her. Excluding his pointy hairstyle, he was only ten centimetres taller than she was, but Helena suddenly felt so small. His expression was stern, lips pressed in a thin line. The braid and narrow eyes gave him a predatory look.

Helena was not going to buckle down under the pressure. She furrowed her brows and angrily tilted her heard. Nozel was so close, yet felt so far. He was looking at her cautiously.

Suddenly his anger faltered and he sighed.

“I’m just not a relationship material,” he explained calmly.

“Me neither,” Helena admitted. Her emotions were settling down. She lifted her right hand and touched his left cheek. She gently moved his face so that he would look at her, from behind his braid. “And yet we kissed, and here we are.”

He was silent and seemed sad. He would not say anything.

“Nozel,” Helena smiled softly. “I like you and I think that, you like me back.”

His lilac eyes were so beautiful. The skin on his cheek felt very soft under her fingers. The feathery mantle looked as if it would tickle her, if she got any closer. His golden collar reflected the light, coming from the windows.

“You wouldn’t kiss me like that, if you didn’t,” Helena continued caressing his cheek.

“Then what do you propose?” He asked quietly, giving up on his objections.

“We don’t have to go public with it,” Helena said and Nozel looked up curious. “We can just meet each other in secret. No one has to know what we do.”

“Will it be just the two of us?” He asked glancing at her with his beautiful lilac eyes. “No liabilities or expectations?”

“Yes,” she whispered. Her heart was beating like crazy. Nozel was just centimetres away from her and he was getting closer.

“I can work with that,” he said and a small smile appeared on his face. It made Helena’s heart race. He moved her hand from his cheek and rested it on his shoulder. The feathery mantle was indeed very ticklish. Helena reached her arm forward and wrapped it around his neck. Her fingers were tangling into his silver hair. She did the same with her other hand.

13. that helped me understand a character better

This would be the first civil conversation between Helena, Solid and Nebra. It kind of gave me the feels of how I want to set them up in this fic and approach their redemption

Helena wanted to quickly pass them and not get into any conversations, but Solid had other plans in mind.

“Hey foreigner, where are you headed?” He spoke spiteful.

“I’m going to, none of your business” she growled at him. Nebra rolled her eyes at Helena’s response.

“It’s so obvious that we don’t get along” the Silva woman pointed out. “I’m curious how did it happen, that the King decided for a foreigner to live with us. Maybe you can explain.”

“Oh I can” irritated Helena answered. “I am stuck here with you, just because your mother wasn’t a sadistic ass like her children.”

“What?” Nebra said surprised but was drowned out by Solid shouting.

“How dare a foreigner like you speak ill about our mother?!”

“I think you misunderstood me. I actually said that she was a nice person compared to you.”

“Don’t offend me!” Solid was even more enraged.

“Solid wait” Nebra stopped him from barking back at Helena. “What do you mean, that you are here, because of our mother?”

She seemed genuinely interested with what Helena had to say. She even silenced her younger brother. Helena decided that she would go to the library later. It was finally the time for a civil conversation between them. She sat down on a sofa on the opposite side of the coffee table.

“Wow, they really haven’t told you anything about me,” Helena sighed. She was beginning to slowly understand the siblings’ bad attitude towards her. They knew nothing about her. She was a stranger brought to their house. Moreover a foreigner from the hostile Diamond Kingdom. Even though she partly understood them, they were still acting very mean, so she wasn’t going to just let it go. “My mother and yours used to be friends during their childhood days.”

“But this would mean that your mother was raised in the Clover kingdom,” Nebra noticed.

“That’s because she was. She was born here and when she became an adult she moved away to Diamond to marry my father, Lord Maxim of the Royal House of Drazel.”

“So you are not exactly a foreigner,” Solid said.

“Well I am, but yes I am a half Diamond half Clover citizen if that’s what you mean.”

“Have you ever been to Clover before?” Nebra asked.

“No this is my first time,” she answered and focused on Nebra.

“Why?”

“My mom doesn’t have the best relationship with what’s left of her family, so we’ve never had a chance to visit.”

“Can you tell us something about our mother?” Solid urged. The anger from earlier almost completely gone. There was a new emotion on his face. Maybe curiosity.

“Well I haven’t really met her. My mom said that she visited once after I was born, but I was a baby so I don’t remember. However she always spoke of her fondly” Solid and Nebra listened closely, soft smiles on their faces. It made her want to say more. “Mom said that they would spend whole days at the beach, running around, practicing their magic and as they grew older they would gossip more about Royal affairs and boys. Who liked who, and who did what. Obviously while sunbathing. Mom also mentioned Lady Acier’s excitement when she bacame a magic knight. From all the stories I can tell that she used to be an amazing person.”

“She was,” Nebra said with a fond expression. “I was just nine years old when she died, so I don’t remember many details, but the warm memories are there.”

“I was three. So it’s hard for me to recollect anything besides feeling loved and wanted,” Solid had a sad look on his face. He brushed off his bangs, even though they weren’t really covering his features.

“I’m sorry that you have lost your mom,” Helena said truthfully. “I have so many amazing memories with mine. It makes it hard for me to imagine how the four of you managed for fifteen years without her.”

“The four of us,” Solid snarled. Helena noticed some anger in his eyes, but decided not to comment on it.

[ghostwritcr]

' it ' s really hard sometimes , exhausting , even . . . but i still love it . ' she nods with a slender smile . anyone could see how she belonged on the rink , skates on her feet made her seem like she was effortlessly floating on the ice . besides all her bruises --- physical & mental ones --- it still was what made her the most happy . she couldn ' t counteract his words about her mother , sad smile on her face as she agreed with him silently . it was so strange , how someone she just met could make her feel more comforted and cared for than the people she knew from the day she was born . his words felt like a very needed hug . and he continued to amaze her by how mature he actually was with his view on life , so understanding of people that should have been his world , but ended up being strangers . can ' t hide neither her amazement , nor the curiosity on her eyes . ' you ' ve ever met them ? ' she completely couldn ' t imagine herself in his situation . who and how she ' d be . but his laugh is quick to take her away from her mind , back to reality , bringing a playful smile to her face . ' that ' s . . . actually true . but in my defense , i ' m one , and there ' s at least six of you on the ice every time ! ' this time , their bickering is far from aiming to hurt one another . can ' t deny she likes it better this way . she gulps , acknowledging she wasn ' t so subtle of her worries , but he manages to put another slim smile on her face with his words . ' well , not all hockey players . . . she loves my brother . lukas morozov . you probably heard of him , he just graduated and got drafted to a NHL big team . now playing for the eagles , he ' s obviously the star of our family . ' she ' s not sure why she ' s giving him such intimate details on her life , taken she ' s someone very closed off , but she just feels comfortable talking to him . having someone listen to her . ' see ? you ' re ruining the ice . . . again ! ' she teases in a giggle , clearly playing with him . still , she skates to his side , eyes rolling once again at the nickname . ' you ' re not gonna stop calling me that , are you ? ' inquires as if she ' s annoyed , but the smirk on her lips tell him otherwise . she ' s actually starting to like it . once they ' re side by side , she finally asks ' so . . . that degree of yours , what is it ? something like psychology , i bet . ' her gaze narrows as she ' s eager to have read him right , from how good he is with people . specially with her .

he couldn't truly say he understood how she felt, had no birth parents to guide or shape him in the way she had. but he'd been in the sport for years now, had a strong grasp of how toxic it could become if it wasn't stopped. " if you enjoy it then you shouldn't stop. but you shouldn't believe you're not gonna be good at anything else either, this is just what you know right now. " shrugs lightly, offering her a somewhat reassuring smile. for him hockey was it, always had been. but coming from almost nothing had propelled him forward to get a degree, to always have a backup plan for if something happened --- not when. " she's a grown ass woman, she knows what comes out of her mouth and how vicious it is. i understand some of it might come from a good place but the rest? that shit is nasty, really nasty. " but he couldn't outright interfere, demand angelika stand up for herself if she wasn't ready. it had to be something she decided for herself, no whispering in her ear or pushing her forward. " nah, it's just one of those things. some people aren't ready to have kids and my parents definitely were not. " it wasn't something he usually spoke about, most people didn't care enough to inquire about his childhood or home life --- they seen the headlines about him and figured they knew exactly who he was. " hey we do not ruin the ice ", counters with a shake of his head and laugh, waving his helmet in her general direction. " it's you tearing it up with those insane spins, i imagine you finish your practice with chunks of ice in your skates. " humorous features become serious as he watches her look around them, more than clear to him who she's looking out for. " it's alright, she comes back and i'll say it was my fault --- she seems like the type who hates hockey players, it'll be easy for her to blame me ", and brooks doesn't really care, let the old woman spew venom at him, it all washes right off. " exactly, you gotta warm up and i'm sure she understands that too. only makes sense you'd use your ice time wisely ", grins as he kicks the back of his blades against the ice one after the other, old habit he never got out of. pushing away from the wall brooks turns his head toward her, free hand beckoning for the female to follow his lead. "c'mon ice princess, let's skate. "

[miraculouscontent]

A Change of Heart (post-”Miraculous New York”)

"Kaalki, divide!"

Ladybug felt Kaalki's light wash over her, the kwami emerging and flying a small distance away. They were up on one of the rooftops in New York, overlooking an interview that was happening on the street.

Kaalki hummed in interest, taking the time to see the tall buildings. "What a grand city." Then, her gaze dropped down and she squinted, adding with distaste, "Quite crowded though."

"There's an interview going on right now. That's why. One of their supervillains was just taken down," Ladybug explained, placing her foot up on the edge of the building and peering down to look at the crowd.

"And, what precisely are we here for?" Kaalki asked, hovering near Ladybug's face to follow her gaze.

"Not what, but who. We’re here to see Eagle," Ladybug answered, pointing at the eagle-themed superheroine being interviewed. The crowd was enthusiastically cheering at just about every answer Eagle was giving, and Ladybug couldn't help smiling at the fact that the person she gave the miraculous to was still doing well.

As the interview came to an end, Eagle's eyes shifted from the interviewer to Ladybug, who had made sure to be where the red-and-black of her suit would stand out; she wasn't exactly the definition of "stealthy," and it worked to her advantage in this case.

Eagle jumped up to the nearest rooftop, then waited for the crowd to disperse before leaping over to where Ladybug was. "Hey, Ladybug! What are you doing here?" Her brows creased in seriousness, and she held her fists up like she was raring for a fight. "Did Hawk Moth come back to New York?"

Ladybug waved dismissively. "No, no, it's nothing like—"

"Pardon me," Kaalki said, making sure she was loud enough to be heard. She puffed her chest out haughtily and gestured to herself with a hoof. "I'm Kaalki, the kwami of migration. Pleased to meet you," she said, her tone forced as to imply that she didn't appreciate being ignored.

"Uh... hi," Eagle greeted flatly, then looked to Ladybug for an explanation.

"Sorry about her. She was my ride." Grabbing Eagle's wrist and leading her to the center of the rooftop, where they were less likely to be seen from the streets, she explained, "Anyway, I came here because I was hoping that I could get your help."

Eagle leaned to the side, curious. "My help? What for?"

"Well..." Ladybug hesitated. "This is going to sound like a weird request, but..."

—————

Eagle crossed her arms in thought, still seemingly absorbing the explanation. "You want me to use Liberation on you? To get rid of your—"

"—romantic attachments," Ladybug cut in stiffly, the word 'crush' and 'love' sounding extremely un-Ladybug-like. She blushed in embarrassment and looked away, bringing a hand up to partly hide her face. "Listen, I know you probably don't get this sort of thing. It's already awkward to talk about it while I'm Ladybug, but—"

"No, I get it," Eagle assured, though her expression was neutral.

Ladybug looked at her in surprise. "You do?"

With a slight roll of her eyes, Eagle replied, "Okay, so I don't get all the love stuff exactly, but Uncanny Valley has her own thing for me to deal with. She always wants to help people; she can't help it. Besides, Liiri says that there's always something stopping people from reaching their full potential. Sometimes it's bad, sometimes it's good, and it's my job to figure out what it is." She glanced Ladybug up and down, as if to gauge something. "You really think it's that bad?"

Ladybug responded with a wince, bad memories already starting to surface.

"Alright, wow," Eagle said, hands raised as she took a step back, the reaction having already convinced her while she herself clearly wanted no details about it. "Are you ready then? You know this is only going to last five minutes, right?"

"Wait—" Ladybug blinked in surprise. "You're really going to help me?"

"Yeah?" Eagle replied. Half-offended, she asked, "Did you really think I wouldn't?"

"No! Sorry!" Ladybug rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. "You'd be... surprised, by how bad this stuff usually goes for me."

For a moment, Eagle looked tempted to ask, but shook off the thought just as quickly. Placing her fists to her chest, her gaze went firm, showing that she was ready.

Ladybug stood in place, almost nervous at the prospect of doing this. She was essentially taking out a piece of herself, but it was the only way to test it; the only way to know for sure.

"Liberation!" Eagle called out, spreading her arms as a single light burst out of her.

Ladybug flinched, her fighting instinct kicking in, but she held firm and let the light touch her. For a moment, she was frozen, able to sense Eagle's presence in her mind and even hear her voice. Eagle's voice was calm, but tempting, offering the freedom so desperately desired.

"Ladybug, your love has taken over your life. I release you from it!"

—————

Marinette quickly stashed the glasses in her purse as she checked her phone's timer. She had four minutes and forty-five seconds to do this, and she took a steady breath before stepping out of the alley she'd been hiding in.

As she raced across the street, the fencing students were just filing out out of Françoise Dupont. The moment she saw Kagami and Adrien leaving, she raised a hand, raising her voice so she'd be heard. "Hey, Adrien!"

Adrien and Kagami stopped and glanced her way. Adrien turned to Kagami, saying something and briefly tilting his head in Marinette's direction. Kagami nodded at him in response, and they separated, Kagami heading in one direction and Adrien heading in Marinette's.

At first, Marinette was nervous, her worst case scenario being that Liberation had truly failed or worn off when she de-transformed, or that her feelings were somehow so strong or messed up that even Liberation somehow couldn't help her.

Yet, as Adrien approached, she found that she wasn't shaky at all. Her heart wasn't pounding either. She didn't even feel the slightest bit of awe from his presence.

She was normal. She was okay.

"Hey, Marinette," Adrien greeted with a smile. "Did you need something?"

It took her a moment to answer, still stunned that it'd worked and she'd truly been freed of her crush, even if it was for five minutes. "Oh. No, actually, just..." She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone, checking the time, then kept it at her side as she asked genuinely, "How was fencing?"

Adrien looked briefly caught off guard, though whether he was surprised at her acting differently or just the question was anyone's guess. He then brightened, replying excitedly, "It was great! I got paired up with Kagami again, and you know how Mr. D'Argencourt is with fencing, so he..."

The conversation continued as nothing but casual from there, and Marinette almost felt silly at how amazed she was by such a simple thing. It was actually like she was Adrien's friend; like they were on the same page and she could actually hold a conversation with him. He looked and talked the same way he always did, yet she was perfectly fine. Students passed by and maybe tossed them a brief glance, but completely ignored them otherwise because she wasn't acting "weird."

At worst, she was grinning just a little wider out of the pleasant surprise of the whole thing.

When she'd first thought to "liberate" herself of her feelings for Adrien, she was certain she'd be disappointed by it. She honestly thought that she would see Adrien and miss the heart fluttering, the weak knees, and the sheer dreaminess he used to radiate.

But she was wrong. With her crush gone, she could see herself from an outside perspective and reflect without fretting over the things she would've otherwise. Where she thought there'd be disappointment, there was relief that she could actually breathe and not turn into a mess around him. Her mind wasn't clouded with thoughts, and her eyes could drift wherever she wanted without some brainless thought intruding and warning her that she might miss Adrien blinking if she looked away.

She'd needed this. It was nice; more than nice even. Is this how it could be all the time if she truly moved on from him? No more mocking, no more jealousy, no more "crazy Marinette"? It'd be like a celebrity crush that she grew out of; an embarrassing memory of the past and nothing more.

More importantly, she would remember this. She would remember this feeling; the sanity of not being in love with Adrien, or not feeling whatever that emotion was actually called. To say the word "love" seemed so... wrong.

Still mid-discussion with Adrien, Marinette's phone suddenly beeped with a warning message. She turned it in her hand, seeing that she'd properly set the timer earlier to warn her when there was a minute and half left of Liberation.

Adrien leaned over to look at the screen, but jumped when a loud honking noise abruptly sounded off from behind him. Marinette tried not to snicker, but it was difficult; seeing someone else be the jumpy one was quite the experience, and she'd have to remember that too.

Adrien looked over his shoulder at his limo waiting for him, then glanced back at her apologetically. "Sorry, I gotta go. Can we talk later?"

"Oh, sure! Definitely!" Marinette stashed her phone back in her purse, then waved to him. "See you tomorrow!"

"Bye, Marinette!" Adrien exclaimed, waving as he rushed off. "It was fun talking to you!"

"You too!"

Marinette pursed her lips, trying to contain herself as she watched Adrien get into the limo and ride off down the street. She waited until it was out of earshot, then let herself start squealing, even hopping around and doing a twirl for effect.

"M-marinette?!" Tikki called, concerned. "Did it wear off? There's still time—"

"I'm gonna delete all my Adrien pictures!" Marinette exclaimed. "And take down that disaster of a wallpaper!"

"W-wHA—!!" Tikki gaped. "Marinette, when your feelings come back—"

"That's future Marinette's problem! This feels great!" Marinette cheered, having to suppress her excitement just so she could talk. Raising one hand dramatically, she placed the other to her chest, saying to no one in particular, "Oh, what's that? Me, crushing on Adrien? Ew, no way! We're just friends!"

She laughed triumphantly, a bounce in her step that made it seem almost like she were jogging. She crossed the street, reaching for the bakery door's handle and practically singing to herself, "Just friends~ We're just friends~ Me and Ad~ri~en are just good—"

She paused as she opened the door, seeing a familiar mix of blue and black standing at the counter and talking to her parents. At the chime of the bell, all three looked over at her, Luka's smile welcoming and his lips partially coated in white from what seemed to be a powdered donut.

"Hey, Marinette," he greeted. "We were just talking about you."

"Oh, he's such a sweetheart," Sabine cooed. "He came all the way here just to see you."

Luka blushed a light shade of pink at the obvious teasing, Tom jumping in to exclaim, "And he really thought he had to pay us for sweets! I told him, you're friends with our daughter, you better not put a single coin on that counter, young man!"

The three had a laugh together; clearly, they'd been getting along before she came in.

Yet, Marinette's smile fell from her face, a mental 'oh' echoing in her mind.

She hadn't even considered Luka when she'd thought of taking away her crush on Adrien, but it made sense; Eagle had said love, and Marinette wasn't foolish enough to think that she hadn't felt anything romantic for Luka. It only made sense that her crush on him would go too.

But it wasn't the same. The relief didn't follow the lack of feeling. With Luka, there'd always be a little leap in her heart, then a wave of calm washing over her, but neither were there and she couldn't help feeling disappointed.

Luka's smile disappeared as he noticed her expression. He approached, concern written all over his features. "Marinette?"

They were friends at that very moment; that was all the feeling she had on the matter, but she wanted what she'd had before. She remembered his confession at the TV station and yearned for the warmth in her cheeks when he stared at her and told her how much he loved her with words that were entirely his own; words that told her that he loved her as herself and filled her with a confidence she seldom had outside of being Ladybug.

Everything clicked. Her crush on Adrien represented stress, anxiety, and losing herself, but her crush on Luka represented peace, happiness, and being herself.

She missed how she felt about Luka. She didn't miss how she felt about Adrien.

That was all the answer she needed.

Almost on cue, her phone beeped again, this time to signal that Liberation was over. Marinette took in a shaky breath as she felt pleasantly familiar emotions rush through her again, and she welcomed them back like she would an old friend.

Luka's blue eyes gained vibrance and allure, his lips being coated in powdered sugar suddenly became incredibly cute, and she could think of him as no less than the most handsome boy in the world.

"...Sorry," she said breathlessly, waving a hand to assure him that she was alright. "Let's just say I went through a lot of emotions today. I'm happy to see you, really!"

Luka's smile came back, filling her with its warmth. "I'm glad," he said in relief. Then, taking a glance at her purse, which was still letting out a muffled, melodic beeping noise, he asked, "Sorry, do you have to be somewhere?"

"Hm? Oh, no, not really." She took out her phone to shut off the timer, then flashed him the screen before closing the app and storing the phone back in her purse. That done, she paused to consider things, then dared a glance back at him. "Hey... can we walk for a while?"

He blinked, mildly surprised, but nodded. "Sure. Did—" He froze, apparently only now realizing that he had powdered sugar on his lips. He swished his tongue around to lick it off, then started over with, "Did you want to talk about something?"

Smiling almost smugly in response, she felt confident enough to offer him her arm, as if he were a damsel she was leading around. She'd never seen his eyes widen quite so much before, but he also didn't protest, happily taking hold of her arm.

Knowing that her parents would just be giving their looks of approval if she glanced back, she stepped out of the bakery and led Luka towards the park.

"So, it took a little longer than I hoped, but... do you remember when you were talking about me getting clarity?"

[bakugosbratx]

Hiiii! CONGRATS on your milestone! You really deserve them and many more! I saw that request were open and would like to request some noncon/yandere Bakugou where if the reader doesn't cum in said time he will let her go and if she does he claims every single hole? Feel free to sprinkle in bdsm I like it all and I'm a masochist ^^

Warning: 18+ content. Sexual intercourse, masturbation, sex toy(s), cursing, yandere tendencies, abuse, noncon, dubcon, degrading, punishment, overstimulation, breeding kink, etc.

Check out my other works here

A/N: Hello! Thank you so much. I love this idea. Yandere is one of my favorite things to write along with bdsm. I’ve actually been thinking of doing a personal one shot like this so I’m happy you requested it. Hopefully it meets what you’re looking for.

Words: 2,605

You thought you were so slick, masturbating while the pro-hero was at work. You thought you were so clever buying that vibrator online. It was hidden inside a stuffed animal so when Katsuki glanced over your purchase before hitting submit, he never noticed. He thought it was just another stupid stuffed animal you wanted for your collection.

You kept the toy hidden inside the bear, but once Katsuki left, you unzipped the back to pull out the pleasure device. The amount of orgasms and cum you produced was more than you have in months. This was going to be your little secret and Katsuki will never even think to look. Except, you seem to not have noticed Katsuki had cameras. They are hidden, of course, but they are there.

They saw everything and so did Katsuki.

You’re used to Katsuki coming home in a mood when he had a long day at work and honestly, Katsuki could expect the same out of you. So, when Katsuki arrived home with his usual attitude, you didn’t notice.

“Y/N,” he called as he closed the front door behind him. His work boots were already off and resting by the couch along with his gauntlets, mask, gloves, and any other armor. You jogged over to him, a smile on your face as you approached the man.

“Welcome home, Katsuki!” You greet with enthusiasm, wrapping your arms around his neck and a soft kiss on the cheek. This was no different than your normal act you put on. Katsuki trained you to act this way, after all.

Katsuki’s hands rested on your plump ass, his red eyes clearly not showing the same amount of enthusiasm you held. When your irises met his, your smile dropped into a concern frown.

“Been good while I was away?” He asked as usual.

You nodded, “yes, sir.”

“Is that a lie?” Katsuki interrogated, raising an eyebrow. You started to sweat and tremble within his hold. Sadly, he noticed.

“No, not at all.” You managed to utter out. A little too quick for your own good.

Katsuki chuckled scornfully. “Really? Because,” his fingers reached into the front of your pants to swipe your delicate pussy. You started to become flustered as he pulled out his slick covered fingers, clicking his tongue at his confirmed suspicion. “You’re one wet little girl.”

“I-I,” you stammered, tears welling in your scared eyes. You mentally cursed yourself for not keeping track of the time. You were enjoying time with your new toy when you heard the door unlock and Katsuki call your name. Your whole core is a slick covered mess and Katsuki knows about it.

“Bedroom,” he delivers a hard slap to your ass with one hand while pointing towards the hall with the other, “Now.”

Not pushing your luck, you did as your told. Katsuki was closely behind you, his dark crimson eyes glaring at the back of your skull. You should have known better than to think you were going to get away with this. Now, you have to suffer through whatever punishment Katsuki feelings like handing out tonight.

Walking inside the bedroom, Katsuki examined the room. The only thing out of place was the soaked gray towel laying on the wooden bed frame. You did not have time to hide it. You could lie about the towel, the vibrator? Not so much.

“I-I’m sorry, K-Katsuki.” You whined as he grabbed the towel. He shook his head.

“I’m sure you are. Strip.” He ordered. You did exactly that.

You stood still, the air hitting your soaked cunt. Goosebumps arises on your arms and you shiver slightly. Katsuki eyes your slick covered pussy and thighs.

“Bend over the bed, slut.” Katsuki demands, pointing towards the bed. Tears are streaming down your face as you do as your told. He spreads your legs apart more so your cunt can weep some more. Using the soaked towel, he cleans you up. You let out pathetic apologies and whimpers, but this did not make Katsuki any less angry.

“I’m sorry, Katsuki.” You repeat with a sniffle, hoping he will show you some mercy when he punishes you. You both know he is a merciless man, though. Your apologies are useless.

Giving your ass another hard slap like earlier, you let out a yelp. “Stand up.” Katsuki orders. As expected, you listen. Katsuki retrieves a dry towel from the bathroom and lay it down on the bed. Your heart is racing and you are clearly nervous.

“Lay down on your back.”

You lay down on your back. Katsuki grabbed your wrist and tied rope around it then proceed to attach it to the bedpost. He did the same action with each limb so you are spread eagle on the bed. So many questions raced through your mind. You didn’t dare ask what his cruel mind wanted to do to your exposed body, but his devious smirk and invading gaze did not help you draw good conclusions.

You were too busy in your thoughts that you didn’t notice Katsuki retrieving your teal vibrator. Your eyes grew wide as he shake it in front of your face. All the dots are connecting and now you understand why he is so mad.

“Look familiar?” He chuckled. “Thought you would really get away with it, didn’t you? I’ve done told you I see everything.”

“Katsuki—“

“Shut the fuck up, Y/N. I don’t want to hear your bullshit excuses and pathetic apologies for the rest of the night. You’ve done lied to me more than once. I need to teach your lying ass a lesson.” Katsuki scolds.

Turning the sex toy on the highest setting possible, he lays the vibrator on your sensitive clit. You automatically moan and sob. Katsuki snickers.

“Such a selfish whore. Always want your pussy pleased, but never want to pleasure me in return.” He growls them walks closer to you and grabs your chin so you are forced to meet his gaze. “That changes today. I’ll make you a deal. You don’t cum within,” he gazed at his Rolex then back at you,” ten minutes, I’ll let your ass go. If you cum, though, you are stuck with me for good and I’m going to stuff every hole you got. Deal?”

Not giving you much of an option, you nod. You so desperately want to escape Katsuki. You miss normalcy. You miss your friends and family. You miss the freedoms of being a normal human being. This is your ticket out, you better take it.

Gently slapping your cheek, he smirks. “I’ll come back to check on you in a bit. Have fun, cum loving slut. I’ll have fun stuffing you later.”

You watched as Katsuki left the room. Your moans filled the empty space and your pulsating cunt is already begging for dear release. You struggle against the restraints, panting and whining. You wanted out. Katsuki did not tie the rope gently at all. Even if you were strong, these restraints would be hard to escape from.

What was once enjoyable is now being used as punishment. Regrets seep in. You have already overstimulated your poor pussy today. You are exhausted and all you wanted to do is rest, but the loud vibrations are preventing you from doing so. You attempted to withhold your cum. You wanted to so badly. Not only for a chance of freedom, but you will be dammed if Katsuki fills your holes. You did not want that man’s filthy hands anywhere near you let alone his erected cock.

You did your best to wiggle the device off of your clit, but it was no use as an orgasm arise. Gasp escaped your lips as your pussy cried. Your cum covered your cunt, vibratory, and even squirted onto the bed. You began to feel flustered, but your punishment was not over with. You have several more minutes left and Katsuki does not plan on coming in a minute too early. You will be covered in your own arousal by the time he arrives.

Just like he wanted.

You reached your climax again and again, leaving the towel, sex toy, cunt, and thighs soaked. You’re sweating, panting, and out of moans to release. Another orgasm overcame you when Katsuki walked in. A smug grin was plastered on his face as he leaned against the doorframe, watching you meet your next high. This made it even worse.

“I came just in time. I get to see you be a filthy slut in person.” Katsuki teased. You wanted to glare at him, but your eyes are rolling back and any insult came out as incoherent babbles. Your pussy released more cum much to your dismay and Katsuki’s enjoyment. Embarrassment washed over you as Katsuki came over to pick on you some more.

“You done squirtin’ yet?” He snickered. “You soaked the whole damn bed.”

“Katsuki, please,” you whine and struggle against the restraints, “make it stop.”

“Aw, is someone going to cum again, isn’t she?” Katsuki coo’s, faux sympathy clear in his tone. You shake your head no, but by your lewd faces, he can tell your close again. He glances at your whimpering pussy then back at you. “Yeah, you are. Go ‘head and cum for me. I know you got plenty in there.”

You don’t even have the energy to protest anymore. Any fight you have left has vanished as you release, closing your eyes in the process. Katsuki was sure to watch every moment of it, too.

Katsuki removed the vibrator, turning it off. You let out a sigh of relief, but that relief is short lived once you remember the deal. Katsuki is not going to wait until you are ready to be quote-on-quote ‘stuffed.’ No, he is a man with needs that you agreed to meet if you failed your part. You were doomed from the start, in all honesty. There was no way you were going to succeed and you both knew that.

You were untied, sitting up on the towel. You did not enjoy sitting in your pool of cum, but as usual, you have no say in the matter. Your eyes never left Katsuki as he put back the items. Before putting the sex toy away, he looked at you with the slick covered device in his hand.

“We’re keeping this for future use.” Katsuki smirked. You sigh, regretting even buying the damn thing to begin with. It was only a matter of time until Katsuki got his greedy calloused fingers onto it.

Katsuki returned over to you, looking down at you with disgust. That almost felt worse than the punishment itself. Yes, you hated Katsuki, but somehow, you still craved his approval. You did not like making him unhappy. Your body and bones depended on you making him happy.

“Like sitting in your own filth?” He arched an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

“No.” You answer, bowing your head down in shame.

“Why? Don’t like being reminded how much of a disgusting whore you are?” Katsuki tsk. He has always been the degrading type, but when he is angry and trying to prove a point, he is much worse.

“No.” You replied, whimpering slightly. You refused to look at him, but you know he is enjoying this. He enjoys putting you in your place. He enjoys winning.

Katsuki began taking off the rest of his work clothes. His erected cock is already throbbing from watching you bust everywhere. He may not have been in the room physically, but he sure did enjoy watching you downstairs on the flat screen. He didn’t even need to turn on the sound because your moans traveled down to the living room.

“Get in the position I like you in.” Katsuki instructed. Tears stream down your face. You didn’t want to do it. You’re tired and just the thought of Katsuki putting his length deep within you disturbed you emotionally.

“You deaf or somethin’?” Katsuki growls as he grabs you by your hair and gets close to your face. “I said get in the fuckin’ position.”

You scurry to do as your told, Katsuki letting go of your hair so you can do so. Face down, ass up is Katsuki’s favorite position to fuck you in. He loves seeing all of your exposed holes to please and toy with. Call him greedy, but he knows you secretly enjoy it too. At least, that is what he tells himself as he makes you moan out his name.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Katsuki praises as you get into position. He spreads you open more so he can get a nice view of all of you. Your cunt is damp and ready for Katsuki’s length, but he is deciding to be nice. “Which hole you want me to fuck first?”

Neither, you thought.

“Any.” You huffed out, wanting this over with already. Your annoyed tone bought you a hard slap to your ass. You wince in pain.

“I’m sorry, Katsuki.” You cry, instinctively. “My pussy, please.”

Katsuki rubs your ass cheek in approval. His hands hold onto your hips, positioning you the perfect angle to take all of his dick. The tip rest at your weeping entrance then proceeds to slide inside. You cry out in pleasure and pain. No matter how wet you are, no matter how many times Katsuki has sex with you, your cunt will never be able to handle all of his girth. Your tight walls will always hug his length to his enjoyment. Katsuki just can’t get enough.

Katsuki continued his constant rough rhythm, delivering a few slaps to your ass and thighs in the process. He loves seeing your ass bounce as he thrust deep into you. The way you sing him beautiful melodies of moans, groans, and whines just encourages his behavior.

“Katsuki—“ You cry, incoherently, as he hits your ass again.

“What’s the matter? Too much dick for ya?” Katsuki mocks. “Bet that stupid little toy of yours can’t make you feel this good. Look at you, can’t even make coherent sentences. Such a,” he grunts as his dick twitches deep inside you, “dumb fuckin’ slut.”

You grip the bedsheets as Katsuki pushes down on your tailbone to move a slightly different angle. Your breast still bounced though they were pressed against the soaked cotton beneath you. You tried to muffle your moans, but Katsuki will not allow that to happen. He wants to hear you stroke his ego. He wants to be reassured he is making you feel this amazing.

Katsuki continued pumping into your sore cunt until he met his goal. You have no choice but to milk every single drop he has to offer. Once you are nice and full of his cum, he taps your putter thigh.

“Sit up.”

As commanded, you sit up. Your back is pressed against Katsuki’s chest. His hand hugs your neck, squeezing it nicely. You cough slightly, looking up at him.

“Think I better take care of this mouth of yours next. Seems to get you in the most trouble.”

“Please no.” You whisper, more tears falling. Katsuki releases your throat, now holding your chin, and brushes them away with his thumb.

“Don’t want me to stuff your dirty little mouth, hm?”

“I’ll be good, Katsuki.” You swallow the lump that formed in your throat, doing your best to sound small. He liked when you sound weak. “I promise.”

“Y’know better than to make promises you can’t keep. You’ve broken several of them already. Be a good girl for me and get on your knees.”

“Yes, Katsuki.”

©bakugosbratx

All Rights Reserved

[kassandras-one-braincell]

Kassandra x Fem!Reader - The Most Peculiar Wingman

Can be found on AO3 here.

Summary: You recently moved into a new flat and you’re hearing some rather unusual sounds from your next-door neighbour’s abode. You’re worried the mysterious woman next door is involved in something dangerous. Kassandra is worried that you’re the landlord about to bust her for her lease violation.

(Sorry if you don’t like coffee and/or you speak fluent Greek.)

Word count: 2568

.

Damn, you’ve lucked out with your new flat. The area is pleasant, the décor is tasteful – the windowsills could use a bit more greenery, but you’ll get to that – and the letting agent wasn’t a dick. Zero hassle with bills, minimal scuffs on the walls…it’s bizarre how simple your moving process has been.

But nothing can be perfect, can it?

Over the few days you’ve lived in your new home, you noticed some rather disconcerting sounds coming from the apartment next door. Nothing that disrupts your sleep, thankfully, although your post-unpacking nap was interrupted by a very loud thud against the thin wall connecting the two flats. Thumps, crashes and very disgruntled cursing in a language you can’t quite place tend to crop up in quick succession once or twice a day. Today, though, the odd sounds seem to be omnipresent.

The strange symphony is starting to get alarming; you’re beginning to ponder if the seemingly perpetually angry woman next door is involved in violence…or, forbid, organised crime? That would certainly explain the forceful thuds and grumbling. God, what if she manages to rope you into her shenanigans? What if she is armed?

After a loud bang and an exasperated “oh, fuck you” reverberates into your apartment, you decide to investigate.

Anxiously, you pop on some slippers and step into the hall, locking the door behind you (‘I’m not about to get robbed less than a week after moving,’ you think to yourself, ‘Oh, shit, I need to get insurance…’). Stomach churning with speculation, you make the arduous four-metre trek to your neighbour’s door. Biting your lip, you rap your knuckles against the wood.

A chorus of panicked shuffling echoes through the door, causing your throat to tighten. Footsteps sprint from one side of the room to the other, the sound of shattering ceramic shrill against the heavy thudding. “Shit, shit, shit, shit,” the woman hisses, muffled by the walls, followed by some shushing and the rattling of something metal. Who is this woman, what the fuck is she hiding, why am I doing this—

Suddenly, the door swings open, revealing…oh, wow.

Your neighbour is an amazon.

Flawless bronze skin, chocolate hair strewn into an unruly braid, tall and shredded with lean muscle. Her eyes are a gorgeous tawny brown, the split second of alarm disappearing from her gaze, replaced by a sparkle that makes your heart hammer against your chest. Very kissable lips upturn into a charming smile, bringing your attention to a small scar above her upper lip quirking adorably. A deeper scar sits on her nose, and the pang of anxiety returns, but your eyes need only flicker back to hers and it melts away.

“You’re not the landlord,” she says with a rich accent and curious lilt. Your cheeks feel warm.

“Uhm, hi.” You fiddle with your thumbs, mouth suddenly dry. “Sorry, I moved in a few days ago next door. I just heard some loud noises and was wondering if everything was alright?”

Lips curving furthermore, she braces her arms on the doorframe above and, fuck, are they nice arms. Sun-kissed, bulging against her white t-shirt, three gnarly rings cutting into her right bicep that just scream to be touched. Is this her distraction tactic?

“Oh, sorry about that. I hope I wasn’t too much of a disturbance?”

When you finally pry your eyes from her arms, a tiny smirk registers on her handsome face. Bashful, you stammer, “No, it’s fine. But, uh, what caused it, if I may ask?”

The woman cranes her neck to scan the hall. “Can you keep a secret?”

Mob boss? Arms dealer? Axe murderer?

Clearly, your nervous speculations are apparent, because her eyes widen slightly. “Don’t worry, lovely, it’s nothing dangerous. I just have a pet bird.”

Breathing a shaky sigh of relief, you run a hand through your hair. Just a bird. Just a bird. Her face relaxes back into a casual smile. A fresh wave of warmth caresses your cheeks at the name she gave you.

Chuckling, you joke, “Must be one big bird.”

“He’s…an eagle.”

You blink back your shock. “How on earth did you manage to get a pet eagle?”

She laughs, the melody warm and addictive. “Poor fucker followed me all the way from Kefalonia. I didn’t have it in me to say goodbye, even if it violates the lease.” Her tone is affectionate, despite her less-than-endearing name for the bird. Pushing back from the door frame – hands flexing wonderfully while she does so – she gestures for you to step in. “Come and meet him, if you’d like.”

Everything about this woman is so inviting, you can’t help but gravitate into her apartment.

“I don’t think I caught your name?” you ask shyly.

“Kassandra,” she replies, flipping the ‘r’ in her buttery accent. “And what can I call you?”

Anything you fucking want. “(Y/N) is fine,” you manage, debating whether her flat is hot or your face is akin to a beetroot.

“That’s a lovely name. Suits you perfectly,” she winks. She saunters over to a shelf with a blanket hastily thrown over it. You can’t help but observe her firm-looking behind through her jeans. Kassandra tugs away the blanket, revealing a large eagle sitting grumpily in a cage. It remains put when she unlocks the cage, standing almost defiantly.

“Don’t be like that, Ikaros,” she chastises. The eagle – Ikaros – begrudgingly flies out of his confines, perching atop the sofa in the middle of the open-plan room. “He’s gentle, I promise.” You’re doubtful, but he isn’t making any sudden moves.

“He just likes winding you up?”

“Loves it,” she grins. “He’s a little bitter I put him on a diet since he was getting a bit fat. That’s why he’s been throwing some tantrums lately.”

You smile as she scratches the top of his head before heading to the kitchen. “Can I get you anything to drink?” Kassandra asks, giving you another heart-melting beam. “I have coffee, orange juice, I might have some tea somewhere—”

“Coffee would be nice, thank you.” She asks your preference and you state it, taking in the layout of her apartment. The place gave off a very homely, Mediterranean vibe, with warm colours and white furnishings. A few hand-painted ceramic vases were dotted about – maybe she did pottery – alongside some family photographs. Atop the dining table was a woven basket brimming with ripe fruits, as well as a laptop with a pile of messy papers next to it.

“Have a seat, get comfy,” she calls over the whirring of an expensive looking coffee machine. Shyly you take the chair by the unoccupied end of the dining table. Feeling nosy, you scan the documents by her laptop, but the handwriting was all in Greek.

A minute later, Kassandra joins you with a steaming mug in her hand. “Your coffee, madame,” she announces with a pantomimic bow, evoking a laugh.

“Merci,” you thank her. “How would I say that in Greek?”

“Efharistó,” she replies. You test the word hesitantly, wincing on the second syllable, making her laugh. “Not bad,” she chuckles.

“I butchered it.”

“Try it a little softer,” she smiles, lowering her voice, giving it a sensual cadence that made your head spin. Oh, she knows she’s attractive.

“Efharistó,” you border on whisper, gay little brain surging with the overwhelming instinct to do whatever she tells you.

“There we go!” The proud quirk of her lips is all you need to see.

Feeling your cheeks flush, you bring the coffee mug to your lips, hoping the steam from the beverage will help mask your fluster. You blow on the liquid and take a sip, immediately regretting the decision as you scorch your tastebuds, repressing the urge to hiss in favour of looking cool for the hot Grecian.

“Do you, um,” you start, ignoring the numbness of your tongue, “work from home?” You wave your hand at the paperwork by her seat.

“As often as my job lets me.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a museum curator,” Kassandra beams, evidently proud of her job. “A glorified history nerd who couldn’t be fucked with the extra academia, basically.” You snort against the mug, nearly spluttering coffee over her. Smooth.

“What time in history?” Her eyes sparkle at the question, passion shining through her irises.

“Mostly the classics, ancient Greece and Rome and all that. But I did my thesis on the evolution of weaponry.” You prop your chin up on your hand as she talks, eyes lazily focused on her lips. If not for the conviction in her tone, you would have zoned out and chased some daydream about kissing those lips. Kassandra reclines back in her chair. “Enough about me, though. Tell me about yourself.”

“You sounded really passionate, though. I don’t mind if you keep talking about your job.” God, you sound like a dizzy schoolgirl who’s hot for teacher. You scald yourself with another sip of coffee in reprimanding.

Kassandra’s eyes twinkle. “I don’t usually invite beautiful women into my home to ramble about cool swords.” You blush and set down your coffee.

The two of you talk for quite some time, getting to know each other, peppering in the occasional flirtatious remark. In her company, you somehow simultaneously feel comfortable and skittish. She’s so relaxed and easy-going, but her physique and seductive demeanour fills your stomach with butterflies.

An irritated squawk cut your conversation short.

Kassandra shoots Ikaros a look before turning back to you. “Sorry about him.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine, really. Damn… What was I saying again?” you ask sheepishly.

Squawk.

“Nevermind, I was probably babbling anyway,” you dismiss, sipping on your now cold beverage.

Kassandra chuckles softly. “Don’t be silly, you have the voice of an angel. You could read me the dictionary and I’d still be interested.” She probably said this to every woman she took a liking to, but you can’t bring yourself to care, far too flustered and feeling, for once, special.

Squawk.

Her eye practically twitches in anger as Ikaros flies over to the windowsill, makes unwavering eye-contact with his owner, and shits on the wood.

Kassandra looks like she wants to be euthanised.

“My god,” she mutters as you burst out laughing. She awkwardly rubs the back of her neck and grimaces, mouth parted as if trying to form some kind of apology for her eagle’s behaviour.

“I’m guessing you’re used to being the only one doing the flustering?” you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

Her disgraced expression shifted back to a playful one. “If I say yes, do I sound like a whore?”

Grinning, you shake your head. “A little cocky, perhaps.”

“I’ll take cocky.” She winks and gets up. “Your coffee is probably cold, can I get you a fresh one?”

“Oh, no, thank you. I’m fine.”

“The finest,” she smirks.

“Real smooth,” you roll your eyes, smiling regardless.

Ikaros caws from the windowsill, as if mocking Kassandra’s advances. Once again, her effortless charm dissolves into a look of frustration. She grabs kitchen towels and a bottle of disinfectant from by the sink and walks over to the window, nudging the eagle so he’d move out of the way. “Maláka,” she groans, cleaning up the mess from the surface. “Μη μου το χαλάς αυτό,” she mutters to Ikaros, earning a confused look. Kassandra sighs. “Usually I wait until after the first date before introducing a beautiful lady to this little shit. That way people don’t immediately think I’m just a weird bird lesbian.”

Testing the waters, you remark, “I happen to quite fancy women with an affinity for animals.” You bite your lip and add, “And, well, you’re…very attractive.”

Smugly, Kassandra finishes disinfecting the windowsill and walks to the kitchen with a little more vigour, your compliment proving to be an ego boost.

Once again deprived of attention, Ikaros decides to flap over and join you at the table. Instinctively, you flinch as the large bird flies in your direction, but all he does is stare at you, trying to analyse the stranger in his home.

“Does – does he bite?” you ask, hesitantly standing up.

Kassandra discards the kitchen towel in the bin, washing her hands. “No, he’s very kind to everyone who isn’t me.” She flashes you a wicked grin. “I only bite when asked.”

Stammering, you choke on air, struggling to find a response. Ikaros gives her a disappointed look.

“Shit, too forward?”

You shake your head. “Not at all,” you blush. “I’ve just…never met anyone quite like you before.” Ikaros seemingly gives you a judgemental leer, and you swiftly find yourself adding, “I-in a good way, that is!”

“Oh?” Her brow is upturned, her interest piqued.

“It’s…exciting.” The eagle shuffles towards you and nuzzles your hand, apparently deciding you’re worthy of his affections. The dark feathers atop his head are surprisingly soft to touch. Smiling, you give his head a few pats, inhibitions to the wind when cute little coos vibrate from his throat. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“I think it’s adorable,” Kassandra says softly.

You look up. “Really?”

“Really.” She joins the two of you and plucks a damson from the fruit bowl, feeding it to Ikaros while you pet him. “You’re the loveliest person to have ever set foot in this building, that’s for sure.”

Ikaros cocks his head in agreement. His beady eyes meet yours, damson juice dribbling from his beak. Do it, he’s silently telling you.

Screw it, let’s shoot our shot.

You clear your throat, mustering up some courage. “Are you free next weekend?”

Kassandra beams amorously. “I was about to ask you the same thing,” she grins. “How does dinner sound?”

Fuck yes. “Really good,” you blurt out excitedly.

“There’s this great Persian restaurant a couple streets over. I’ll book us a table?”

You gasp, having seen the building on the drive when you were moving in. “The place with the garden and the pretty lights, right?”

“That’s the one.”

“Sounds amazing.” Red in the face and heart pounding, your eyes dart about the apartment, fearing that you’ll combust if you look at Kassandra any longer. They settle on Ikaros, who gently butts his head against your hand, almost like a fist-bump. “Well, uh, I have a home insurance company to ring up, so I should probably get going,” you stutter.

“I won’t keep you, then,” Kassandra says, a tinge of disappointment in her tone. Ikaros squawks sadly.

“Thank you for the coffee.”

“It was my pleasure. Thank you for staying,” she winks. The eagle coos in agreement. You give him one last pat before walking to the front door.

“Oh, before you leave, there is something you should know…” Kassandra calls, moving over to you. She delicately takes your hand, frying your brain, and leans down to your ear. You feel faint. Lowly, she whispers, “…Our Hermes guy likes to drop-kick our parcels.”

Snorting, you look up at her in disbelief. I mean, what was I expecting? A kiss? Get a grip, woman. Kassandra laughs at your expression. “Use the amazon locker down the road instead.”

“You’re amazing,” you murmur, grinning. “I’ll probably see you before next weekend, but bye, I guess?”

“Chaire,” she bids softly, opening the door for you.

When the door closes behind you, you let out a ragged breath, excitement coursing through your veins.

You are so glad you moved here.

.

( The Greek clause is meant to say "Don't blow this for me" but I used 5 different translators and all 5 came back with slightly different things and I sort of ip-dip-doo'd it and chose one at random...sorry. )

[bolinity]

While Bolin already had some experience from his first set of Nuktuk films as the series's mover star, projecting his voice well enough to bark for a crowd came from a lifetime of listening to Shiro Shinobi over the radio, news broadcasts, and the pro-bending arena's speaker system — on top of his natural charm and charisma to really draw in a curious crowd of on-lookers. (Totally ignoring the fact that some people aren't cultured enough to enjoy fabulous solo fire ferret tricks; barking couldn't save those folks.)

He was glad that Tenzin and Korra went along with his and Commander Bumi's idea of razzling and dazzling up the crowds to draw all the impromptu-airbenders out of hiding for the past couple of stops along their recruitment trip. Once another one of their extravagant demonstrations winded down (and Mako climbed back onto the airship, grumbles and all), Bolin's heart swelled in happiness to see a small crowd gather around his friends. Since meeting Korra, often he had to take a moment to drink in the fact that he was a part of something bigger than he was — seeing history in the making right in front of his eyes through the adventures they've had, just like all of his heroes! Such a different life from four years ago...

Again, he was used to folks gathering around Tenzin, Korra, Jinora, and Bumi after their performance, so Bolin was caught a little off-guard when someone approached him instead since he didn't do any of the fun stunts. He half-expected to be recognized as Nuktuk — it had happened a few times during their journey, but most of the time people were more filled with wonder at the rare sight of airbenders).

"Thanks!" he said as she complimented his barking while he reached up to press his mustache back into place. "And yeeeaaahhh, I know. I've tried other adhesives, but they end up sticking too well and... well, I rather have something that comes off easily than have a red upper lip for... the rest of the day," Bolin admitted, to which he shuddered a bit as his mind flashed back to some painful memories as a result of trial-and-error. "And if it does blow away, it's fine. I have, like, six more as backup." Clearly it was wasn't his first airbending-rodeo.

He closed his eyes to focus on her words as he nodded along while the girl started to describe classic spontaneous-airbending. However, once he opened them back up, he jumped a little as he clocked the eagle-lion approaching them; he exclaimed as Pabu himself scrambled and took shelter inside of Bolin's shirt. He scooped his arm under the lump that was Pabu to support him (and prevent him from stretching the fabric too much) before he continued, "Sounds like you're a bonafide airbender, all right! Master Tenzin — the tall and incredibly ripped bald one with the arrow tattoos — is basically a walking-talking-airbending encyclopedia on airbenders, the Air Nomads, and all that jazz. Not to mention he's the son of Avatar Aang on top of that." As if the last part wasn't obvious.

"I'm pretty sure he's been teaching his kids all about their culture basically since they could start walking," he said as his arm swept over to Jinora's direction. "His oldest is only eleven years old, but she's super talented! And," he paused to gesture in the direction of Bumi, "his older brother just got airbending just like you!" Bolin's gaze went back to the girl as he beamed. "Basically, these folks are your best bet at making sure you're not sneezing out a wall of every building you're in — or flying pies into people's faces unexpectedly," he joked. "The plan is to head to the Northern Air Temple to start everyone's lessons and training there, like, get real deep and immersed in the whole Air Nomad culture. Are you up for that?"

starter for: @bolinity

@bolinity

It wasn’t exactly the best way to make an exit. Especially after purchasing her weeks worth of rations. But this odd habit of sneezing ten feet in any odd direction didn’t exactly happen overnight. For that matter she couldn’t quite remember when their air related stuff kicked in for her. All she knew was one moment she was her normal self, the next she was flying sneezing and accidentally shoving people across rooms without meaning too. It was even starting to startle her eaglelion Meili who was pretty unstartleable.

After offering what little she had left of her odd job money as an apology and gathering what she could of her supplies and packing them away, a voice echoed though the streets as though giving her an answer to her own internal questions.

“Come one come all and witness the amazing Airbenders!”

“Hold on,” she quietly said to herself as people began to flock towards the spectacle in question “did he just say Airbenders? As in it’s not a legend anymore? Like this could answer what’s going on?” She turned her head to her companion to which it only gave a small tilt of her head in confusion. It was nice to travel alone at times, however it did leave you limited in people to talk to.

“Right, we should just see what it is before jumping ahead.” She said before taking the lead. Though by the time they reached the attraction, the crowd grew so big, she couldn’t get a decent view. Unless she hoped onto her companion of course.

It was a sight to see indeed. No strings that she could make out. They were indeed true blue Airbenders. She could feel her heart flutter at the sight. But nearly feel from her seat at the sight of the skybision the flew above them soon after. The stories shared by the elders were true… if only her family were here to see this.

As soon as the show was over. Instead of asking for handouts, they asked for anyone who had the ability to bend air to come forward so that they could be trained. This was it! Her golden opportunity to fully learn her people’s heritage and better control her sneezes! However it had been a good while since she last had a full blown conversation with anyone much less spill what was once a shut secret past.

Fortunately, there were quite a few who came forward to the most intimating (to her) two. Tenzin and Avatar Korra. Perhaps reaching out to anyone else in the group would be a better way to integrate.

Out of the rest of their ragtag team, the one with the clearly fake mustache currently giving his fire ferret a friendly scratch behind the ears seemed the least intimidating, so she approached.

“Nice announcing out there.” She started, hoping to ease into the while Airbending thing. “Though you may want to use something a little more stickier to keep it on, I noticed it starting to slip towards the end. Though it could’ve been the excess breeze going that.” Despite the friendly tone and smile as soon as she said that she immediately felt herself mentally fall over flat on her face. She felt like this may have not have been the best way to start a conversation.

After a lighthearted chuckle in hopes to kill any of the potential tension, she spoke up again. “Anyways. Sometime ago, I’ve discovered that I’ve started to bend air uncontrollably, and while I knew my family had ties to some Air Nomads, I didn’t realize I’d have their ability in me. Now I’ve found myself doing a lot of damage from things as simple as a sneeze. Its even made my friend Meili uneasy.” Just as she mentioned the name, the large hybrid creature approached from behind as if waiting to see if it was alright to come out or not.

“If you guys are really offering a way for people like us to better hone our abilities, I’d be honored to learn.”

[talkfantasytome]

nessian prompt: nesta adopts a pet bird and cassian finds out that the bird is monogamous so he adopts the same kind of bird to "send nesta a message"

Nonnie, stop. I LOVE this! I got so excited the minute it came in, but I had to focus on my 500 Followers celebration first. XD This is just too precious though.

Before this, the only breed I knew to mate for life was swans. My initial research got me nervous, since most others are also large, dangerous, and or endangered bird breeds. LUCKILY, there is one type of bird that is semi-common as a pet. (Not that Nesta nor Cassian wouldn't want to own a bald eagle but, you know...😂)

Nesta adopts a lovebird. Cassian decides to do the same, in the hopes it might make Nesta finally see what's right in front of her.

Warnings: Innuendo | Word Count: 1,056 | Read on AO3 | Masterlist

a/n: This may shock you, but I am not a bird expert. I used information I found easily online. Please don't come at me if I get something wrong. Blame the interwebs. Thank you.

And look at me go with a proper drabble. 👀

"Isn't she precious?!"

Gwyn and Emerie were on either side of Nesta, the three crouching down to look at some bird Nesta had just adopted.

"She's so pretty," Gwyn sighed. "What's her name?"

"Anne," Nesta answered happily, straightening up a bit. "With those rosy cheeks and shrill chirps, she reminded me of Anne of Green Gables."

Emerie chuckled beside her. "Oh, that's perfect."

Cassian scowled from where he sat on the couch, arms crossed over his chest. As much as he enjoyed the view of Nesta's back, he far preferred her front, especially if it meant her focus was on him. That's what he liked best. But it was always so hard to get her attention. He didn't need the added competition.

"You look like a child," Azriel teased, his body shaking slightly with laughter.

Cassian rolled his eyes, letting out a loud breath. "Pretty sure I stopped looking like a child when I was about fourteen."

"Cass-"

"So, what type of bird is she?" Cassian asked loudly, ignoring Az and pulling Nesta's attention to him as he uncrossed his arms and stood. If she was going to be all-eyes for the bird, then so would he.

Nesta smiled softly as she answered, "She's a peach-faced lovebird."

Cassian couldn't help but smirk at that. "A lovebird…really?"

"Yes. Why?" Her eyes grew stony, her tone flattening.

"Trying to tell me something, Nes?"

She let out a scoff. "Caught me. Because clearly I was only thinking of you when I got my bird."

"Aren't you always?" He flashed her a half-smile, ignoring the groans coming from Gwyn and Emerie as they joined Az on the couches.

"Only in your dreams, Cassian." She shook her head softly and then followed her friends, sitting next to Emerie as they started The Black Panther, their next movie in the group's watch of the MCU.

"Cassian, what the hell is that?" Nesta asked, her voice stern.

He followed her gaze to see she was staring at the new cage standing in the corner of his living room.

"My new bird." He grinned over at her as her eyes narrowed.

"I can see it's a bird. Looks an awful lot like mine."

Cassian looked at the bird in the cage, his head tilted slightly as he clicked his beak. "Oh, he does, doesn't he?" Cassian sighed, pretending he hadn't noticed.

Of course, he definitely had. That was the entire point. After meeting Nesta's bird a few weeks earlier, Cassian found himself researching the breed that night. Apparently lovebirds were aptly named, being one of the few types of birds that mate for life. And, even within that group they were special, because while most would move on if they lost their mate, the lovebird would pine for them, growing erratic and depressed.

Something Cassian could easily understand. He was no stranger to pining, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

"Why would you get a lovebird?"

"Why not? They're beautiful birds, and he seemed to like me at the store," Cassian replied, offering a nonchalant shrug. And to send you a message, since nothing else seems to work. He was glad he kept that tidbit inside his mind. He doubted Nesta would respond well to it.

She rolled her eyes, walking over to the bird and leaning over to look at it closely. "What's his name?"

"Gilbert."

She snapped up, her back completely straight as she turned on him. "Gilbert?"

"Yeah. After…er…my grandfather."

"You never knew your grandfather," she argued, crossing her arms. He wished she wouldn't do that. It always pushed up her breasts and made it a thousand times harder for Cassian to keep his eyes from flicking down to them.

Cassian let out a low chuckle. "Doesn't mean I can't name my bird after him. Why? Do you have a problem with the name?" He smirked down at her, taking a step closer.

"No." The word was breathy, her eyes darting away from him. As if she were trying to hide something she knew he'd find if she held his gaze.

He took another step toward her. "You sure about that, Nes?"

Finally, she brought her eyes back to his, her blue-grey stare icy and completely entracing. "It's just oddly coincidental."

"And why's that?"

"I think you know why, Cassian."

He couldn't help but smile at the sound of his name on her lips. It was his favorite song. One he wished he could play on repeat, knowing he'd never tire of it. "We should bring our birds together sometime. Give them a playdate."

"A playdate?" she repeated.

"Yeah, a playdate." His smirk widened into a full smile as he took one last step so that their chests brushed against the other's with each breath. "Give them a chance to socialize with another bird. And while they do, maybe you and I can play, too?"

Her breathing hitched and Cassian felt his heart stop. It wasn't the first time he'd elicited a reaction like that from Nesta, one of the few hints she'd reveal that told him he wasn't entirely off base. Still, every time he caught one of those clues it took his breath away. He felt so close. But Nesta was an expert at pushing him back to an arm's distance.

"Well, it may not be the worst idea to bring them together," she admitted stiffly. "Lovebirds don't like to be alone, and it could help keep them happy, to let them have a friend."

His smile became impossibly wider, and Cassian knew his eyes were likely sparkling with the swelling he felt in his heart. Even if Nesta did only talk about the birds. "How about I bring Gilbert over to meet Anne tomorrow? Say…around six?"

"Only if you bring dinner with you."

Cassian was about to respond when he heard his front door slam shut, the sound making Nesta jump back from him before Az, Gwyn, and Emerie walked into the room.

They started the movie quickly, everyone excited that they'd reached Infinity War and were getting close to the end of the series. But Cassian wasn't paying attention, his mind racing with ideas about the next night. It may not be a real date, but he sure as hell wasn't going to let the opportunity go to waste.

If you'd like to be added to my Nessian tag list, let me know! 😄

@live-the-fangirl-life @generalnesta @secretlovelybeauty @nestaisgod @julemmaes @boredserpent @autumnbabylon @angelic-voice-1997 @moodymelanist @sv0430 @confusedfandomslut @gwynrielsupremacy @katekatpattywack @moonstoneriver77 @deedz-thrillerkilller16 @swankii-art-teacher @lemonade-coolattas @whoreforgwynriel @emily-gsh @my-fan-side @champanheandluxxury @sayosdreams @simpingfornestaarcheron @perseusannabeth @clemidansleschoux @meher-sumedha @labetenoir

[kpop-dungeon-dark]

The Gamble Of Prides. (Mafia!Baekhyun x You)

•TRIGGER WARNING•

Warning(s): Non-Con, public humiliation, exhibitionism, cum play, knife play, gun play, fear play. Both of you are legal in this. Read at own risk.

It took Y/n a moment to realise what had just happened, eyes widening slowly as she looked up from Mafioso Byun's final cards and at his smug face. "N- No… No way…" Her friend facepalmed in great stress and fear of all the men surrounding them in Byun's bar. That did not just happen. "How is that possible?" Smashing the cigarette in her hand against the table, Y/n stood up. "There is no way you won this time! I am not just good-- I am GREAT at this! How could you win?! Not when I-..." Y/n trailed off from her own words, not willing to admit that she was cheating. Since the beginning.

The older man shrugged. "Well… maybe you're not that good, Miss. I mean…" Him and his men chuckled at the 4 foreign kids visiting their country for vacation. "You lost 4 games in a row along allllll that you had" taking a drag of his cigar, the man smirked devilishly. "Confidence is good but overconfidence will drown you in the sea of reality, in the wise words of Norain."

The girl was clenching her fists, every fiber of her body loathing him. Y/n hated just how fucking smug he was.

"You bastard!"

Byun chuckled. "Adorable. So you remember all that you put on the table, right?" The female gulped, the recent memories of how she bet her body at last when she had nothing left to gamble with. A laugh left the man when she backed away and tried to run, which resulted in Byun's right hand that was sharper than an eagle, Sehun, to grip her arm before throwing her whole body back and in the Boss' feet. "Tsk. I honestly thought you were an honourable young lady. But the way you tried to run away from your own words?"

"P- Please! We will pay you back, sir!" One of Y/n's friends sobbed, causing the girl to glare at her.

"Shut up! Don't fucking plead a cheating bastard like hi- OW FUCK!" Y/n was cut off when Byun gripped her hair before her brain could decipher it and pulled her face closer to his.

"Calling me a cheater when you were trying to use pathetic little rigged ways while playing in MY casino?" Silence followed for a couple moments, the man's lip chain dangling furiously from how fast he'd moved. "You are more foolish than you seemed, baby doll."  Before the girl could shoot anything back, one of her friends shakily stood up, realising this was no game and the man was pure trouble.

"S- Sir… m- may we leave?" Gasping, Y/n turned to look at him along with their other friends. "We had nothing to do with the game nor do any of us gamble. You can sort your thing with her but we really had nothing to do with the game. Please let us go."

Byun sat up a bit straighter, a firm hold on Y/n's hair still. "That's fair." Nodding at his men, the man spoke. "Leave." He couldn't help but chuckle when that boy gathered the rest of his friends before all of them left without sparing a shocked Y/n another glance. "You really are that irritating to everyone, huh?" The girl was fuming at this point, hating how smug and entertained he looked.

“Fuck you!

A snort left the Mafioso when the small girl dared to spit on his face. Byun fucking Baekhyun's face. "I am afraid you don't realize the intensity of the situation, love." Before he motioned his men to stop in their positions, halting them for beating her up for the disrespectful gesture. Before Y/n could realise what had happened, she gasped under her breath when the man suddenly pressed a sharp knife to her throat, the blade threatening to slice against her soft skin.

"You bet all that you had and then took a loan. When they told you that you couldn't take any more loan you bet your body without thinking of the consequences…" Clicking his tongue, he dragged the knife along the length of her neck before grazing it against her collarbone, making the girl jump when he sliced through one of the strings that held her dress against her breast. "Tsk. Did you even know what that means?" The girl hated how she was made to kneel in front of him as he sat in his seat, feet on either side as one held the knife and other held his cigar.

"I- I will pay y- you back!" The men laughed at her slightly wavering tone.

"Oh, is that so?" Baekhyun raised an eyebrow before nodding. "Of course you will. Of course. That is the only way. However…" Taking the other string that was on her other shoulder over the blade, the man toyed with it. "I shall give you a choice." Taking another drag, he puffed it in her face, causing her to cough. "You can either be good and even redeem yourself on the way for your naive actions or…" Inching their faces closer, Baekhyun spoke just above a whisper. "You die and all your body parts get sold."

Y/n's blood started to run cold as she realised just how fucked she was. Even her friends had abandoned her and now she was in this casino with some man she had clearly underestimated as some local gangster. His blood slightly brushed against her skin, still not cutting open the other string. "So… what's it going to be, huh? Me cutting this little dress off your body or me sliding this blade across your throat?"

"I… I d- don't want to d- die, p- please" her eyes finally wetted with tears, bringing the man great satisfaction as he nodded slowly, taking another drag as he finally cut the string open, the tight dress Y/n was wearing falling down to her waist in an instant, causing her to gasp before protective arms tried to hide her chest but Byun's foot beat them to it, pressing both of them down in her laps by one of his feet.

"No, love. You cannot decide what happens to you any longer. You lost all of those rights when you lost your body to me. Now you're my puppet." Byun fed off the fear in her eyes and across her face. "Now, let's begin the fun, shall we?" The girl shook under him as she realised that she didn't have a choice anymore.

"Stand up." The man ordered. "Stand up and take those clothes and heels off." Before the girl could protest, Sehun spoke up from behind, firmly pushing at her back with his knee.

"Didn't you hear what the boss just said, whore?!"

"Hey now, Sehun-ah… don't treat the pretty girl like that…" Byun looked up at Sehun with upset eyes, words painfully sweet like he wasn't just threatening to murder her in cold blood. "She's too weak to be treated so rough… Dolls like her are delicate and fragile… aren't they?" He looked down at the humiliated girl with teasing eyes, snorting at how she flushed in embarrassment before removing his foot from her arms.

"Get up." His tone was rough again as he leaned back in his seat, tossing the knife on the table before picking his glass of whiskey up, taking a sip. "We don't have all day and the clock's running!" He spoke aloud when the girl tried to plead, not even looking her way but in a far distance, waiting for his orders to be obeyed.

Y/n shivered under the gazes of all the men in the room as she slowly stripped from her dress and heels, cheeks red in embarrassment.

"Come here…" Byun ordered. "Kneel." And as the girl kneeled, the male grabbed his knife again, placing one of his feet under her pussy before clicking his tongue at the bra that she didn't take off, swiftly cutting it open, making it fall against her laps. "Don't." The man warned as the girl went to cover her now exposed chest with her arms, watching her carefully. "Come here."

Y/n's eyes were letting out continuous silent tears as she got closer to the man, feeling her nipples harden from the air as her face burned the hottest it could. She could only bite her lip and stare at the ground in embarrassment. "Get on your knees and undo my belt." Her eyes widened as she looked up at the man that looked almost bored. "What? Did I mumble?" His lips grazed against one of her breasts now, making her instantly mumble a small 'no' before she did as she was told, her fingertips trembling as she followed his instructions until she could see his erect cock bulging against the dark blue boxers he wore.

"Come closer now, rub your face on it, doll. Feel your Master up~" Baekhyun encouraged, fistibg her hair in one of his hands whilst the other one that was in possession of the blade grazed against the side of her neck dangerously close. Y/n bit back a sob as the man guided her face closer to his clothed member, forcing her to rub her face against and all over it, moaning lowly at just how good her warm breaths felt.

"Take it out…" The girl did as she was commanded, her hot tears falling on Baekhyun's skin one by one, only adding to the pleasure. "Come on… take it in your mouth. That's it…" Y/n was in disbelief of her situation but knew there was no way out. Opening her mouth, she took his thick head in her mouth, cringing at the taste as she slowly licked and sucked at it, literally shaking as Baekhyun leaned over, pulling her face down his cock by the hair he was holding, finally cutting the last piece of clothing she had on which was her underwear, exposing the girl to everyone in the room and increasing the tension even more. All of his henchmen were sweaty and their throats were dry. But nobody could do anything no matter how much they desired.

Because she was his toy.

"Keep going…" The Boss whispered, sliding her mouth further on his cock and grunting when she gagged around him, bringing her face up before slamming it down, causing the girl to choke again but he held it tight this time, his cock twitching from how she struggled to breathe but couldn't. "Good girl. Now that is some good behaviour." The man grinned, releasing her just enough to let her breathe before pulling it off completely.

"Lick it off." Baekhyun's voice was cold again as he guided her to his cheek which had her spit on it, tightening his hold on her head even more. Y/n was full on sobbing now after failing to suppress it felt her scalp burnt from where he was holding her, shakily placing her hands on his knees before licking her own spit off, sweat trickling down her back. "Are you sorry?" She felt a gun press against her pussy now, the blade long gone as he calmly stared down at her.

"Y- Yes! Yes! I am!" The girl rushedly spoke, feeling the cold metal of the gun slip in between her folds, rubbing back and forth."P- Please, si- sir!"

"Good." Baekhyun was satisfied from how the girl was trembling in fear, standing up before pulling her up on her feet before pushing her on the table where they had played, placing his gun on her stomach before grabbing her thighs and forcefully pushing into her, moaning when she screamed in pain while crying even harder now. "This will get you thinking, tsk. Who do you even think you are? Brats like you deserve nothing but to be treated like this…" Baekhyun loved how he stretched her walls long and deep, expanding them forcefully before he gave her another powerful thrust.

"So fucking overconfident… And what are you now? A fucking slut that's not even in control of her own body." Grabbing the gun, the man started to give her faster thrusts now, moaning loudly as sweat dripped down his forehead, hips snapping mercilessly whilst he pressed the gun to one of her breasts, rubbing the tip against her nipple. "I wonder what will happen if I shoot it… will it pop off? Deflate?"

Y/n's eyes widened as she hysterically cried, her heart thumping as she slid up and down the table, shaking her head furiously whilst her hands rested lifelessly at her sides, her whole body covered in sweat. "P- PLEASE! PLEASE! N- NO! NO! DON'T S- SHOOT ME, S- SIR! PLEASE!" She could only beg helplessly as the man got off to her fear, glaring down at her as he fucked her intensely, going balls deep as he twitched again, feeling himself closer to his orgasm.

"But you've been so fucking disrespectful today. Do you even know who I am, you little slut? How dare you?" Before he pushed the gun in her mouth, forcing her to taste herself as the fear of him suddenly deciding to pull the trigger invaded her senses.

"I- I… s- showwy-" was she could pathetically let out through the gun as he grazed it against the soft end of her throat, ramming into her harder and harder before he was emptying his load into her, pulling out and seeing his cum gush out of her along the blood of her purity, forming a pink mixture. Gathering some of the white liquid off his cock, the man rubbed it against her lips before kissing her as he tucked his cock back in followed by the gun and his blade, pulling her off the table by her hair, spitting in her face before slapping her for all the former disrespect, throwing her in his feet.

Baekhyun smirked, getting even more satisfied as he realised that he was her first time. The trip she was on was in the celebration of her 18th birthday after all. Whilst the mafia was turning 30 this year. "Maybe I won't send you to one of my brothels after all."

.

[kpopfanfictrash]

Raise the Barre (Ch. 2)

Author: kpopfanfictrash 

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Word Count: 6,436

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.    

After the initial shock of your partner wore off, you decided spending the semester partnered with Park Jimin was, indeed, the dark sentence it appeared to be at first glance.

Jimin wasn’t happy with the situation either; that much became clear when Mr. Vlad said your name and Jimin instantly stiffened. You’d turned slowly to face him, your mind going fuzzy as you met his blank gaze.

The first two weeks of the semester had been spent wondering if this was some kind of cruel, cosmic joke. Maybe you’d been a terrible person in a past life and this was your bitter reward. If so, Jimin must have pissed someone off too, since he seemed equally perturbed by your new relationship.

Waiting in line at the water fountain, you checked the time once again and exhaled. Ballet began in five minutes and Miss Britt employed the same lateness tolerance policy as Mr. Vlad. Really, it was a blanket expectation by all the teachers at Russet. If you arrived after the door shut, you weren’t allowed in – and god forbid you missed a step the next week during barre. Motivated to avoid this, you’d arrived fifteen minutes early every day since classes started – it was hardest for 8:00 AM ballet, but that couldn’t be helped.

Once your water bottle was full, you screwed on the cap and hustled into the room with three minutes to spare. Miss Britt stood at the front beside the live pianist. She insisted on using one for all her classes, saying it was good practice for when you’d dance with an orchestra.

Arms crossed, she surveyed each student when they entered, and you hastened to stand beside Noelle at the bar. Placing your water bottle on the floor, you began to roll your neck and warm up your feet.

From across the room, you heard Jimin laugh and looked up on reflex – only to find him standing next to Sabrina.

Uncertain, you froze. You hadn’t made it a habit to follow Jimin’s movements, or even to learn more about him since your arrival at Russet. You saw him in class and occasionally on the weekends but had made it a point to keep your friend groups separate. As a result, you really had no idea what Jimin had been up to in his private time.

It seemed the answer to your question was: cozying up to the enemy. Since that first night in Grace Hall, Sabrina had proven herself to be as unpleasant as you’d feared. You’d mostly tried to steer clear of her path, but again, this was hard to achieve in a class of eighty students.

While you watched, Jimin laughed again and Sabrina smiled. She looked almost pleasant and in response to this, your eyes narrowed.

Objectively, you didn’t want Jimin as your dance partner, but he’d been assigned to you. It’d be incredibly embarrassing if he asked to switch midway through the semester. Everyone would know it was because of you and you’d have no other options when the New Year rolled around.

Faculty clarified the partner situation by the end of the first week. Apparently, only your first ballet partner at Russet was assigned. This was done on purpose, in order to get you used to working with new people, but you’d be allowed to choose your own partner starting January 1st. This was the only reason you hadn’t immediately marched to the front office and demanded a change. Clearly, this was a test of partnership. Jimin might be the devil himself, but he hadn’t asked to switch partners and you’d be damned if you gave in before he did.

On the opposite side of the room, Jimin smiled and you scowled, wondering what Sabrina could possibly have to say that he found so hilarious. In the two weeks you’d known her, Sabrina had yet to utter a joke in your presence. Suspicion clouded your judgement, since it was no secret amongst the class that Sabrina’s ballet partner wasn’t as talented as she was.

The idea that she might be after Jimin entered your mind while you watched. While you didn’t want to be Jimin’s partner, you also didn’t want Sabrina to be Jimin’s partner.

You were shaken from this thought by Miss Britt clapping her hands.

“Pliés, ladies and gentlemen!”

Miss Britt led ballet class on Tuesdays; right now, she stood at the front of the room while she waited for everyone to echo her movements.

“From first,” she said, adopting the same position. “Little breath on the intro, and – demi plié one, two. Demi plié three, up four. Grand plié five, port de bras six –up seven, eight. Rise to relevé on two! Hold three, four. Grand plié five, up six, tendu to second. Repeat!”

You followed her with half-movements, attempting to mimic her delicate port de bras. The grand plié was fast, which was tricky – you’d need to control your center as you rose from the ground.

“Start on the right,” said Miss Britt, turning around. “Skip third. I want to see you sweating by the end, everyone! Pliés should be as much effort as battements! If I don’t see sweat, we’ll do center barre again next week.”

A ripple of panic went through the class.

Center barre was a time-honored ballet tradition, loathed by all. It involved doing warm-ups in the center of the room instead of at the barre. This required additional strength and concentration; enough to cripple even the most stoic of ballerinas.

As the pianist started, the entire class inhaled and fell into motion. Hips square, core engaged, heels down, head tilted up and to the side. You let each breath you took flow through your body, mirroring the stance Miss Britt had shown.

True to her demand, your muscles were already warm by the end of the first side. Miss Britt made her rounds at the edge of the classroom, stopping occasionally to dole out corrections.

“Your back is arched, Irene!” she called. “There, that’s better. Louis, move through the motion. Save your ballistic stretching for jazz class. Good, good.”

“She’s coming,” Noelle whispered beneath her breath.

Hiding a smile, you ducked your head. Miss Britt was close – you could see her in the corner of your eye as she turned the corner, heading down your row with an eagle’s eye.

Dropping into the final plié, you struggled to keep your hips square while you rose from the ground. Miss Britt stopped alongside you, examining you for a moment before she began to walk forward. 

“Heels forward,” she said, correcting your stance. “Imagine everything rotates from the hips. Push down through the ground and out! All motion is powered by the glutes. Yes… better,” she said, begrudgingly moving on.

A bead of sweat rolled down your neck and dropped into your leotard. You knew her praise hadn’t been as genuine for you as it had been for others. Noelle glanced your way from the corner of her eye, but you continued to stare straight ahead. Miss Britt was nearby, and you didn’t want to give her another reason to scold.

As the music came to a close, Miss Britt stopped at the front and began the tendu combination. You were soaked with sweat before rond de jambes ended, only the massive amounts of hair spray and gel you had used holding your bun in place.

Barre lasted over an hour, which was longer than usual. As you and Noelle dragged your barre to the side at the end, you felt your grip slipping on the silvery metal. Trying to stay hydrated, you drank half your water bottle on the side of the room.

The water break didn’t last long – soon you were gathered in the center of the room for adagio. Miss Britt was the kind of teacher who used both hands and feet to relay the combination. You stood on the sidelines and watched; a bit dizzy from how much you’d sweated already. More water before class would’ve been a good thing.

The one positive about the adagio was it was a solo, not a pas de deux. You had ballet partnering classes throughout the week, of course, but oftentimes your normal ballet teachers assigned partner work as well.

This was why Jimin stood beside you, hovering nearby in case he was needed.

Casting a withering glance at him in the mirror, you assumed fifth position and firmly squared your shoulders. Behind you and to the left, Jimin rolled his eyes.

Jaw clenched, you decided to ignore him.

Sabrina stood on the opposite side of the room, paired with Paulo Goncalves, a talented ballet dancer – just not as talented as she was. Before you could look away, she turned her head in your direction. You winced, ready to move but then realized she wasn’t looking at you.

She stared at Jimin. Sabrina looked at him in much the same way mothers examined produce in the grocery store, taking in every angle to determine if it was valuable.

You stiffened when you saw this, unsure what to do. Sabrina’s gaze moved to you before you could blink and when she saw you, she smiled.

It wasn’t a nice gesture.

This was disarming enough that when the music began, your mind went completely blank. The rest of the class started, raising their arms overhead and you could only stare, lips parting in horror. All steps of the combination had flown from your mind.

“Développé devant,” Jimin whispered behind you.

Instantly, the steps returned to your memory. Snapping to attention, you raised both arms overhead. As you caught up to the class, you extended your right leg in the air.

Miss Britt turned in your direction, luckily not noticing your momentary confusion and when she moved on to Brian, you exhaled in relief. As the combination continued, a question mark formed in your mind, and you chanced a subtle glance sideways at Jimin.

A vague sense of confusion settled over you. Jimin had helped you, which seemed extremely out of character for a demon from the depths of Hades.

When you glanced his way though, Jimin didn’t seem to notice anything was off. He looked almost peaceful as he moved through the combination, executing the steps with perfect timing. The sight of this made your blood boil, since the combination was difficult, and he had the audacity to make it look so fucking easy.

Each line of his body radiated grace and control; he truly was remarkable, it made you nauseous to watch. The lightest twitch of his pinky was purposeful, his body held perfectly still as he stepped into arabesque.

You lost sight of him when you penchéd, catching Jimin again in the mirror when you rose. Logically, you knew he was also working hard, but it didn’t show at all. You, on the other hand, were working and looked like you were.

When the combination ended, Jimin breathed easily, barely winded, while you felt as though you’d just run a marathon.

“Y/N!”

Head whipping up, you met Miss Britt’s gaze at the front of the room. For a moment, you panicked and wondered if she’d seen your lapse after all. If there was one thing not tolerated at Russet, it was failing to pay attention.

She looked at you for a moment, as though searching for what to say and then simply said, “Square your hips in arabesque.”

You sagged slightly in relief. “I will,” you promised, but she’d already moved on.

“Irene, less port de bras. Any more flapping and you’ll fly away. Paulo – you’re lagging on your transitions. Stay on the beat. Now,” she said, turning around. “Find your partner. The next adagio is paired.”

Jimin walked forward and came to a stop beside you. You stiffened at his proximity, uncertain what to say.

He’d helped you – Park Jimin had helped and you couldn’t fathom why. For the entirety of your teenage years, Jimin had been your worst enemy; it only stood to reason the trend would continue at Russet. When he glanced at you in the mirror, you found the silence unbearable.

“Thanks,” you said at last.

Jimin turned to face you, surprised. “What for?”

Rolling your eyes, you turned to face him as well. “You know what.”

“I do.” Maddeningly, he smiled. “But I want to hear you say it.”

“Well,” you said through gritted teeth. “We all have things we want but can’t have.”

Jimin was about to respond when you noticed Miss Britt starting the combination at the front. She had one of the students from senior class helping, an incredibly talented dancer named Seokjin. Seokjin was ridiculously beautiful and equally shy. This didn’t stop half the freshman class – girls and boys – from harboring a fat crush on him.

Holding out his palm, Jimin waited until you placed your hand in his. Pulling you close, his other hand went to your waist while Miss Britt began the combination.

“Start in fifth,” she said with Seokjin behind her. “Ladies – relevé one! Hold two. Both plié three, up four. Ladies – right leg to passé and extend seven, eight. Relevé one! Hold two, hold three, four. Bring leg to attitude efface – seven, eight.”

Already, you found yourself sweating and you were only marking the steps. So far, the adagio placed heavy emphasis on the female partner, with the male only offering support. This was frustrating, since male partnering was difficult, but in a different way than for women. Men needed exceptional strength and balance to support their partner, but oftentimes it was the woman executing the more technical steps.

After front attitude, you extended your leg, pliéd and Jimin lifted you up. This required great coordination and timing – both his hands on your waist, he hoisted you into the air. Miss Britt stopped the music at this point to give you a minute to practice.

Not that this helped. While in high school, you’d done minimal partner dancing. Your studio hadn’t had any male dancers in your level; the partnering you had done was mostly female, which was a different expectation than traditional ballet.

The lift was hard and even two weeks into classes, you and Jimin still hadn’t mastered it. You kept smacking Jimin’s chin with your head when you leapt from the ground. This time was no exception – you heard the crack when it happened, a sharp pain radiating from the base of your skull. Jimin swiftly let go, dropping you on your feet.

“Ouch!” he yelped, stumbling backwards.

“Sorry!” you said, whirling around. “Are you alright?”

Jimin rubbed his jaw. “Yeah,” he grumbled. “I’m fine. Let’s just… try it again.”

You nodded and maneuvered dutifully into position, his hands returning to the same spot on your waist. After a deep inhale, you pliéd and jumped – and Jimin immediately dropped you, your feet hitting the floor.

“What was that?” you demanded as you spun around.

Jimin’s eyes widened. “Why are you asking me? You’re the one whose weight was pitched forward!”

“It was not!” Despite this, you frowned. It was possible Jimin was correct on this one. “Let’s just… do it again.”

Jaw clenched, Jimin returned to position and you tried it again. This time was passable; no one smacked anyone’s chin when they jumped and you landed on the right count, but it still felt somehow off. You were working too hard; when you glanced at Noelle and her partner, Eamon, their lift looked so effortless. Such mastery escaped you, slipping through your grasp no matter how often you practiced.

At the next water break, you immediately left Jimin’s side. Going as far away from him as you could, you drank eagerly from your bottle and relished in the silence.

Someone coughed from behind you.

Turning around, your expression instantly soured when you found Sabrina inches away. She had nary a hair out of place and for a moment, you wondered what’d happen if you messed up her bun. You got the feeling Sabrina was used to being in control.

Before you could speak, she took a small sip of water. Her gaze searched the room and landed on Jimin, who was saying something to Seokjin with a laugh.

“He’s talented,” she remarked.

Ignoring this, you drank from your own water bottle. “If you say so.”

Her gaze returned to yours, lips curled in a smile. “I do say so. You know it’s true, too. Jimin is talented, which makes me think you’re the reason you two can’t get that lift.”

Stiffening somewhat, you slowly bent to place your water bottle down on the floor. As you rose, you took a step forward and lifted your chin.

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” you told her.

Sabrina’s lip twitched. “Oh. Touchy.”

“You should leave. Isn’t your partner looking for you?”

“Hm, not sure. He might not be my partner for long.”

Unthinkingly, you stiffened. “What do you mean by that?”

“Exactly what I said.” Sabrina examined the nails on one hand. “It’s a pity Jimin has to be partnered with you when he could have the best dancer in the class. I plan on letting him know I’m available, if he ever wants to switch.”

“Are you seriously–”

“Miss Y/L/N!”

Both of you shut up, your heads snapping sideways and Sabrina immediately took a step backwards. Miss Britt stood before you, but how long she’d been there, you didn’t know. Desperately, you hoped she hadn’t heard the entire conversation.

Sabrina immediately turned away; Miss Britt let her go, which didn’t bode well for you. You’d been holding out hope this had something to do with your conversation, but this didn’t seem to be the case. Miss Britt watched Sabrina leave before she turned to you.

“I’d like to speak after class, if that’s alright,” she said, her voice low.

She didn’t sound angry, which made it even worse. Anger was a fickle emotion; it came easily and left easily. The calmness was worse, since it sounded like Miss Britt had something serious to say.

“Sure,” you said, managing to nod. “I’ll stay.”

She nodded and turned away, walking to the front while you stared at her back. After a moment, you shook yourself free and moved towards the center. A dull roar pounded your thoughts. Thousands of worries pressed from every side, each one more worrisome and insistent than the last.

This was it – you were finished. Russet was kicking you out. Somehow, you’d been sent an acceptance letter in the mail, but it was a mistake and you were being sent home.

When you returned to the center, you dully stood by Jimin’s side. He glanced at you curiously, sensing something was wrong.

“Are you –”

“Let’s just dance,” you said, moving to fifth position.

Jimin wisely let it go, stepping behind you to place his hands on your waist. The pianist began to play and you started the combination but the entire time you danced, your mind was somewhere else. You couldn’t help but think about what Miss Britt might have to say, each possibility you considered being worse than the last.

Things went smoothly for the rest of the class, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Everyone else picked up on steps easier than you did; Sabrina was right about that. Jimin was a talented dancer and he had experience with partnering.

He wasn’t the problem here – you were.

Jimin was quiet for the duration of class, which was unusual. You wondered if he was annoyed by your incompetence and again, your mind flashed to Sabrina’s words. She wanted Jimin as her partner. This made you feel a bit desperate because as much as you didn’t like Jimin, it would be humiliating for him to switch on you mid-semester.

If you were in Jimin’s shoes though, you would consider it. Sabrina had flawless technique, was beloved by the teachers and would only help his star to rise. They also seemed to get along well together, unlike you and Jimin, who were constantly at odds.

Realizing this, your stomach sank. Yes – if you were Jimin, you would consider switching partners.

When the hour hand on the clock finally met the twelve, you hastily gave your applause and bolted towards your dance bag. You lingered here, waiting for class to clear out, but you couldn’t stand being next to Jimin for one second longer. Thanking him had been humiliating enough for one day.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Jimin hesitate before he walked out. The rest of the class began to pack up, chatting with one another while they left the classroom. Miss Britt stood at the front with the accompanist, likely going over music for the next class.

Noelle also paused before leaving, but you told her to go and said you’d catch up with them later. You waited until most of the class had left and then you took a deep breath and walked to the front.

“Miss Britt?” you said, coming to a stop.

She faced you with a smile. “Ah, Y/N! Good, good. Let’s talk. You can go,” she said, dismissing the pianist.

Once she had left the room, Miss Britt again turned to you.

Your stomach twisted in knots. Now that you stood here, the worst kinds of scenarios ran through your mind. Miss Britt would kick you out of Russet; you would have to enroll in second semester at a local college. You’d have to return to your hometown with your tail tucked between your legs and all your dreams of a dance career would be ruined.

“I’m so sorry,” you blurted before she could speak. “I didn’t mean to argue with Sabrina in the middle of class like that. It was unprofessional and I promise it won’t happen again.”

Miss Britt blinked. “Well, that’s good,” she said slowly. “But that wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“It… wasn’t?”

A small part of you had been holding out hope that this was it. That you would get a mild talking-to and be on your way soon. 

Miss Britt was known as a strict, but fair teacher. When she wasn’t yelling corrections at students across the floor, she came across as laid-back. There was a reason Mr. Vlad was the terror of freshman students and not her. Although Miss Britt was demanding, she tended to offer dancers advice as opposed to cutting them off right away.

“Talking in class is one thing,” she said with a stern look. “I don’t need to tell you how prestigious this institution is. I’m sure other teachers have emphasized that point enough. You’re only throwing away your own time and money by not taking this seriously.”

Your stomach sank, since you did take this seriously and hated the idea that Miss Britt might think you didn’t. It didn’t seem like the right time to interrupt though, so you let her finish.

“More than that,” she said. “I wanted to talk to you about your progress.”

“My… progress?”

“I understand you were a competitive studio dancer before this, Y/N?”

Warily, you nodded. “I was.”

“I thought so.” Gently, she smiled. “I remember your audition tape – impressive, I must say. Your solo was exquisite, and your performance quality was one of the best I’ve ever seen.”

Hearing this, your heart began to swell with pride. Perhaps this wasn’t the terrible conversation you’d been expecting after all.

“But your ballet technique is behind the other students.”

Like a balloon popped, your chest swiftly deflated.

Miss Britt continued. “I see this often in competitive dancers, even if you did ballet in addition to other styles. People who trained as ballerinas before Russet usually have a more solid grasp of the fundamentals. People like Sabrina.”

“Ah,” you said, careful to keep your voice neutral.

“I know Miss Ernst isn’t always the easiest person to get along with,” Miss Britt said. “But she trained at our prep school before she entered the Academy. It might be helpful for you to ask her for some pointers.”

“Right.”

“Or even your partner, Jimin,” she offered, noticing your hesitance. “He’s a studio dancer too, but he trained more extensively in ballet. I don’t know if you know this, but he won the Grand Prix two years ago.”

The Grand Prix was a national ballet competition – no, not a ballet competition. It was the ballet competition. You knew that Jimin had competed and won the Classical Ballet solo category. You hadn’t paid much attention to it at the time, since you hadn’t been there, but Jimin’s smugness the month after remained burned in your mind.

“I may have heard something about that,” you said at last.

“Or someone outside of those two.” Miss Britt gave you a small smile. “I do offer solo sessions, but I’m unfortunately all booked for the semester.”

“That’s alright,” you said faintly. “I appreciate the offer.”

“Of course.” After a moment, her gaze became scrutinizing. “I don’t want you to feel discouraged by this, Y/N. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to have this conversation with a freshman, and it won’t be the last.”

You nodded and hesitated. She may have intended her speech to be comforting, but you couldn’t stop the vague sense of panic which spread through your limbs. The next words out of your mouth left before you could stop them.

“But how many of those students were given an offer to the Company?”

Miss Britt paused, and you glumly realized the truth. Not many.

The Company was what this was all about, of course. Russet Ballet Company was known not only for impeccable traditional ballet, but for their recent expansion into jazz and contemporary. Only fifteen offers to the Company were given to the graduating seniors at the end of four years.

Heart sinking, you realized this meant you were at the bottom. Perhaps not in every dance style; as Miss Britt had noted, your performance quality was exceptional and you were a strong contemporary dancer, but freshman year focused on ballet.

If you couldn’t last the first year at Russet, there wouldn’t be any opportunities later for you to prove yourself.

“Alright,” you whispered. “Thank you.”

Miss Britt straightened. “Find someone to train with,” she said. “Ask your classmates for help. I wouldn’t have this conversation if I didn’t believe you could do it, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you said, trying hard not to cry.

Seeming to realize you had enough to consider, Miss Britt nodded and stepped back to rearrange her sheet music.

“I’ll see you in class next week, then,” she said with a note of finality.

Sensing the conversation was over, you nodded and turned to walk across the room. Fingers tightening on the straps of your bag, you stared straight ahead and focused on something else. Something – anything but the terrifying idea of your dreams crumbling around you.

Coming to a stop at the water fountain again, you filled up your bottle and focused on breathing. Most of your sweat had dried, loose strands of hair sticking to the back of your neck. You screwed the cap on your water bottle, shoving this in your bag to head towards the stairs.

You were so lost in thought, you didn’t hear the sound of your name being called until you’d nearly reached the end of the hall.

“Y/N – wait!”

Stopping short, you paused to glance over your shoulder. To your surprise, Jimin was hurrying towards you down the length of the hall. He was dressed in black sweats and a jacket, his hair still slightly mussed from the class you’d just left.

Coming to a stop before you, Jimin cracked a smile. “Damn, Y/N. You walk fast.”

“What do you want, Jimin?” 

His smile disappeared. Straightening, Jimin’s fingers played absently with the strings of his hoodie. Some of his usual haughtiness reentered his gaze.

“Why do you always assume I want something?”

“Because I know you,” you said. “That’s how we work. You say something asshole-ish, I respond with something rude and we both move on. So, come on. Out with it.”

Jimin’s eyes widened. “I – wow, Y/N.”

You waited a beat.

“Was that it?” Dully, you arched a brow. “Not your best insult, Park. Anyways, if that’s all you have to say, I have to go.”

“What is your problem?” Jimin said, wonderingly when you turned to leave.

Halting your step mid-stride, you stared at the wall for a moment before you turned around. Stalking towards him, a part of you knew that deep down Jimin didn’t deserve this, but it’d been such a long day and you were just so tired. The suggestion to ask Jimin for help was the final straw.

“My problem?” you said, coming to a stop before him. “My problem is having you for a partner.”

Jimin’s eyes narrowed. “Hey. It’s not my fault you messed up in class today, Y/N.”

“Of course not,” you snapped. “It’s never your fault. Perfect Jimin, beloved by every teacher and student.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means!” Realizing how loud you were being, you lowered your voice. “You’re a guy, Jimin. It’s easier for you.”

His jaw dropped a little. “Are you… are you being serious, Y/N?”

“Oh, come on,” you said, giving a bitter laugh. “Are you honestly going to say you’ve never noticed? It’s easier for guy dancers. All the teachers love you because you’re a novelty. You can do the exact same thing as a girl dancer, but everyone looks at you because oo, a boy! Even your fucking center of gravity is higher than women! You have an advantage in dance, and it sucks.”

Jimin’s face had gone slightly sallow while you spoke.

“Some advantage,” he sputtered. “I never felt advantaged when I was strapping myself into a dancer’s belt before class.”

“Oh, how sad. Your penis is uncomfortable.”

“I – let’s stop talking about my dick,” Jimin muttered, his cheeks turning red. “There’s an equal number of girls here as guys, Y/N. I’m not any sort of novelty compared to you, so why don’t you let the past go? Who cares who won between us during high school?”

“Let the past go?” you repeated. “That’s a lot coming from you. You’re the one who suggested our bet in the first place.”

“Whoa, hey.” Jimin frowned. “You’re the one bringing that up now, not me.”

“I’m just bringing it up to prove a point.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I even tried to collect on my winnings.”

Still facing him, you scowled. “You didn’t win.”

“Technically,” Jimin said, holding up a finger. “We said the first person to get three trophies. I got three.”

“Three trophies at competitions we both competed in,” you shot back. “I didn’t compete in the last one, so you didn’t win!”

“A technicality.”

“See!” you said, in clear disbelief. “You’re still harping on this and then you turn around and tell me to ‘let the past go.’”

Jimin’s smile disappeared. “Listen, Y/N. If I had an advantage in high school, it’s gone now. There’s an equal number of girls as guys here at Russet and I’m working just as hard as you.”

“Wrong,” you said. “I have to work twice as hard to get the same result.”

“That’s just not true!”

“It is! That’s the only reason you won against me as often as you did in high school.”

“Hey,” Jimin snapped, finally sounding annoyed. “Fuck, Y/N – are you being serious right now?”

“I don’t know,” you exhaled, tearing your gaze away.

Taking a deep breath, you stared at the staircase and willed yourself not to cry. The two of you were being so loud, you seriously hoped Miss Britt hadn’t heard. It would be just your luck to get in a fight with both Jimin and Sabrina on the same day.

Everything hurt. The words from Sabrina and Miss Britt continued to run through your mind and the last thing you wanted was for Park Jimin to see you cry.

“I just – have to go, Jimin,” you managed to say. “I’ll see you later.”

Pushing past him, you avoided eye contact and left him standing alone at the top of the stairs. Jimin didn’t respond, but you heard his ragged exhale behind you as you left.

Shoving open the door to outside, you pulled a sweater from your bag and wrapped this around you. Blinking in the sunlight, you took another deep breath and began to walk down the street.

Jimin wasn’t the main reason you wanted to cry, though he was a part of it. Years of tension, resentment and competition had finally led you to explode – but beneath that, there ran a current of confusion.

Jimin had been waiting for you out in the hall.

Every explanation to this that you thought of sounded ridiculous, since Jimin hadn’t seemed mad or angry when he’d first called your name. An inkling of regret swirled through you and, somewhat uncomfortably, you wondered if you’d misjudged him.

Maybe you really were the only one holding onto this dumb rivalry. It’s just that Park Jimin could be so infuriating without even trying.

He had to know men had the advantage in dance – they always did. It was obvious each time you turned on the TV and watched any dance reality show. Women needed twice the stage presence, athleticism and musicality just to get on the same stage as a guy who taught himself to pop and lock in his basement.

It was even more infuriating because objectively, Jimin was better than you and – rationally – you knew you should ask him for help. This was the logical thing to do, but you couldn’t bring yourself to dismiss your pride. Asking Jimin for help would be like admitting he was better and you absolutely refused to inflate his ego.

A few steps from Grace Hall, your phone dinged in your pocket and when you pulled it out, you saw Finn’s name on the screen. Rather than be elated by this, your heart sank a little. You two had made tentative plans to hang out but right now, the idea of seeing other people made you a bit nauseous.

Finn: hey, babe! Want to grab dinner tonight? My roommate is crashing at his family’s house this weekend, so we’d have the place to ourselves ;) [11:22 AM]

Your thumb hovered over the keys for a moment, wanting to say yes but Miss Britt’s words from earlier lingered in your mind. You were behind your fellow classmates. You needed a teacher, you needed a tutor and at the very least, you needed more practice.

Slowly, you typed out a response.

Y/N: Last minute practice was scheduled for tonight ☹ rain check for tomorrow? [11:23 AM]

Finn responded fast, somewhat disappointed but agreeing to your abrupt change of plans. You didn’t respond, shoving your phone in your bag to walk up the steps of your dorm.

You had lied to Finn. There wasn’t practice tonight, but you knew he wouldn’t agree with your assessment of the situation. Finn didn’t understand your world of dance, which wasn’t his fault. It also wasn’t his fault that his girlfriend had chosen such an intense career path which left little free time. Finn was a normal college student and understandably, he wanted to spend time with his girlfriend.

Once in your dorm room, you tossed your bag on the floor and slowly exhaled. Noelle wasn’t there, so you stood in the center and tightly closed your eyes. You allowed the silence wash over you, taking several deep breaths and when you finally opened your eyes, you felt a bit calmer.

The day consisted of lunch and two more classes – variations and pointe – but at the end of it all, you returned to your room and changed from your clothes. Tugging sweats and a t-shirt on over your body, you placed your leotard in your laundry and left the room.

Danley Hall was a short walk away; you’d heard from upperclassman that studio space was available on a first come, first serve basis. It got crowded at the end of the semester, when people were practicing for showcases, but it was fairly empty when you arrived at 7:30 PM.

Climbing the steps to the fourth floor, you let yourself into the first empty room you found. Setting your bag on the ground, you waited a moment before facing the mirrors.

The practice room smelled like wood, rosin and whatever cleaner they used on the glass. Outside the room the sun had begun to set, casting misshapen shadows over the floor. Plugging your phone into the speakers, you stepped from your shoes and slowly walked to the center.

As the first notes of music left the speakers, you closed your eyes and inhaled. For the first time all day, some of the tension drained from your body.

With wood beneath your feet, dust motes in the air and a familiar song on the stereo, you finally felt at home. Stretching both arms overhead, you rose on your toes and hung there a moment. When the music changed, you dropped to a lunge and let yourself be pulled by the music, your body one step ahead of your thinking.

Miss Britt was right; you weren’t a ballerina. You had no idea if you ever would be, but this was something known, this was something you were good at and something you loved. This was a moment where you came alive.

The longer you danced, the more frustrated your movement became. So much emotions swirled beneath the surface, frustration chasing each step as you danced across the floor. You tried to stay ahead of it, tried to dance beyond its reach but the emotions caught up in the end, dragging you down and swallowing you whole.

When the song ended, you found yourself breathing raggedly in front of the mirror. Staring at your own reflection, you felt your heart sink. It wouldn’t matter how much you loved this if you didn’t even make it through the first year.

After another moment, you turned and walked towards your phone. Switching the song to a classical one, you took a deep breath and went to stand at the barre.

As the first notes began, you rolled your neck and waited to count yourself in. While you couldn’t bring yourself to ask Jimin for help, that didn’t mean you couldn’t take matters into your own hands. You’d seek out other teachers, you’d find other students and you’d do this barre twice as often until you began to improve.

Opening your eyes, you began grand pliés.

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading 😊 New chapters of Raise the Barre will be posted weekly; dates are listed on the series Master List. Requests for updates will be deleted.

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[melusinezephyr]

One Of Us is Lonely, One of Us is Only Waiting For a Call

thelightofcreation:

As his eyes adjusted to the dark hallway, he more clearly saw the woman- Zephia, she introduced herself as- smirk. Clearly, her venom was not meant to be hidden. Any number of reasons could follow such an observation, but, at the moment, Sephiran was not eager to find out which. She had a confidence that did not seem forced, and those who found any form of joy from hostility were not to be trifled with. Distantly, he recalls the beorc saying: if you play with fire, you are bound to get burned. And he has had enough of fire and ash.

Thus, he keeps his gaze level and his expression serene. It contrasts her demeanor- expressive, perhaps, but not open. He supposes, that in its own, could be an indication of weakness- a fear of exposing his emotions. But for those who are not familiar with him, it should be nothing more than his typical countenance. 

“I would not think it strange to be surprised at seeing another so late at night…” Though, perhaps she was referring to something else. She had the aura of something ancient, powerful, and dangerous. He had no delusions that to one with such a presence that he would appear as he wished to be seen: mundane and inconspicuous. There was a futile hope that all she detected was the spell that kept his wings at bay. Nonetheless, he keeps his tone cordial.

“I am called Sephiran… a priest here at Garreg Mach. Are you one of the academy’s instructors?” She is studying him, he knows that much. For what, he can only hope to guess. He holds only a shadow of the power he once held, the companion of a splintered, sleeping Goddess. He returned the favor, but struggled to identify what the aura reminded him of: it was not of order, nor of chaos. She seemed to be searching for something- and he was not sure if he was able to give it, regardless if he was willing to do so.

"Yes, I am. I am a professor for the Black Eagles House." She hides how her words are spit through gritted teeth well, how much she truly detestes being here and forcing herself to play nice while everyone around her could be happy and enjoying their fun little school life.

Even if she was trying to make the most out of the second chance that she had been so mysteriously granted, it still pained her to see others be happy when her own selfish dreams would never be able to be achieved. Her eyes pierce through the man before her, Sephiran, wondering if he too is unhappy in a way here. Not that she is unhappy, persay, she is glad to devote her second life to serving Lord Sombron as well, but one could only live so long seeing other people live lifes that she could only ever dream of.

It is a jealously that has burned in her heart for a long time, of how easily humans were able to live their lives without having to worry. It was incredibly annoying, and she did so hate things that were annoying.

"Hrm... perhaps it would not be too strange to see something human around these parts, especially late at night when there are so many curious students about. But you're not human, are you?"

[bump1nthen1ght]

Thicker than Water (Demon x Reader) Chapter 1

Pairing: Female Reader x Gender Fluid! Demon

Genre: High Fantasy

Warnings: Arm Injuries, Several mentions of blood

Word Count: 1870 Words

Summary: A summoning gone awry ends up in your favor

Chapter 2

A/N: Alright, I know I literally just posted a demon story but this post showed up on my dash and my god if I have never been more inspired to write a fic. I legit wrote this in 2 hours in a frenzy. Also I plan this story to be multi-chap, but still rather short, so maybe 3 parts in total

Before that night, you had never known what nearly-passing out felt like.

Your mother had done it, once or twice, usually after a particularly stressful day at the shop. If you didn’t check on her between your studies she may forget to eat entirely, your father as well. But you had been lucky; Someone had always been there to catch her, to cradle her head and spoon-feed her strength back.

On the forest floor, surrounded by the smell of your own blood, you have no such luxury.

The black spots flickering in your vision blend into the desne canopy above you and your tears only muddle your sight. The iron and copper of the summoning circle drawn around you drown out the scent of fresh pine and grass, while your ears can only focus on your own heartbeat and the bickering of the four boys.

Oh, that’s right, they’re still here.

It seems you had lost more fluid than you realized, probably because of your incessant crying. You had tried to stop the flow, but your brain was losing coherent function with every second. The boys conversation sounds far away and hollow, bouncing off your eardrums and confusing your sense of direction

“You idiot, I told you not to go for the arm!”

“We needed a lot of blood!”

“But she needs to read the ritual dumbass! She can’t if she dies!”

Ah yes, the ritual, it all is flooding back to you now.

Having received a private education from your father at your family’s apothecary, you were already prone to isolation as a child. It didn’t help having no siblings, nor a lacking natural talent for friend-making. Although you had lived in the city all your life, the young people your age knew very little about you, and you them.

You knew they had rumors about you, The daughter the apothecary hides away; That your gaze can turn people to stone, that you can curse and poison people with a couple words and the right ingredients.

The truth was you weren’t so glamorous. You knew your way around a medicine cabinet, sure, but nothing about poisons or magic spells. You didn’t have any special abilities to compensate or explain your reluctance for socialization. Just some overprotective parents and a shy disposition.

So when the handsome postmasters-son began to pay you special visits, you let your guard down. You let him walk you to and from the market, memorizing your weekend route. You let him in for a bit of tea late at night, especially when it seemed so cold, and told him where the spare key was kept. And yes, you even told him about your favorite secluded spot in the forest, where the sounds of civilization were far away, where you could be alone.

And here, in these last moments of your life, you can’t help but feel so naive.

“Hey, hey!”

A boot taps your cheek, shaking you out of your revelry. Your glassy eyes look over to your right.

It’s one of the local merchant’s boys, you think his name is Nicholas? It doesn’t really matter. All you knew about him was that he was a bit rough around the edges; always nicking things from pockets, looking up ladies skirts, and skipping his lessons. That’s what your dad complained about anyway.

A page is shoveled in front of you, dangling over your face. Your eyes take a while, but focus on the words. Nicholas’ boot heel digs into your neck.

“Read it out loud, or we’ll kill you.”

Clearly I’m going to die anyway dumbass, why should I help you?

You might’ve retorted, if you were in such a physical condition to do so. But instead, you do as you're told, and start speaking.

To your left, the postmaster’s son, Richard, sucks in a breath with anticipation. Any false composure he had while luring you here is gone, his feet tapping with excitement as he holds your left arm and lef bound spread eagle.

Holding your right leg is Markus, another merchant boy. He picks at his teeth.

“What are you guys going to wish for?” He whispers. It goes in your ear and out the other, too focused on forming coherent sentences.

“A full-harem of babes, obviously.” Simpers Hunter, the son of a landlord. He isn’t ugly, only a bit plain, and has enough money to boot. Compared to the other bachelors in town however, he has had little luck in procuring a courtship.

“A million coins could get you that and more, idiot. That’s what I’m wishing for.” Whispers Richard.

“What are you going to wish for Nic?” Asks Markus

“Oh my gods, will you guys shut the fuck up?”

Nic snarls, unconsciously digging his heel back into your throat. You choke and stutter, but keep going. The runes around you, written in your own blood, begin to glow.

All of the boy’s eyes widen and they step back from you. Your limbs sink like dead weight as the words begin to flow out your mouth with no thought. The paper with the chant drops to the ground, out of your sight, but it's like your brain has been reprogrammed; You know the rest, know it in your bones.

The grass begins to simmer and burn under the summoning circle, smoke swirling into formation above you. When the final word whispers out of you, you feel your body go lax. You don’t even remember tensing up

I guess this is it. Sorry Mom, Sorry Dad.

You clench your eyes, just hoping the demon will be quick. That it will at least leave a recognizable corpse.

“Holy shit.” You hear muttered, unsure by whom.

Your eyes are closed, body teetering on the brink of unconsciousness, but your senses are still intact. A hot wave of breath washes over your face and the ground below you trembles with heavy footsteps. The boys are quiet but you can hear their hearts pounding. They thrum with life, while yours slowly fades.

“Why have you summoned me, mortal?”

Even half-dead, your muscles tense in fear. The demon's voice is deep and resonates like a crowd talking all at once. It reeks of inhuman power and cracks like thunder.

A brief silence passes, before Nicholas finds his courage.

“We have come to ask for a wish.”

Later, when recounting the story, you will mention that the demon looked over to Nicolas, unamused, despite never seeing it yourself. The demon huffs, the heat of it blowing over you once more.

“I don’t believe I asked you.” The demon mutters. The cacophony of voices blend together into one, bland and emotionless. Even in your state however, you are able to decipher a couple of louder tones which overpower the others. They seem...angry.

“But...you…”

“I asked….”

Your eyes snap open as a wet droplet lands on your cheek. Lingering above you, drool seeping from their unnaturally sharp teeth, is the creature. It’s face resembles that of a goat, but sharp fangs stick out from their lower lips. Their eyes are golden and shine in the night, piercing right into yours. Despite the part of your body screaming out in terror, another part feels oddly….comforted. It’s why you don't startle when they brush a hand against your cheek, their thumb wiping away your tears. Their palm is warm, not like a blistering flame, but like a thick quilt. Like hot chocolate on a rainy day.

“......What do you need of me, little one?”

Their hand, padded and calloused, slides down your arm, closing up the large gash on your inner bicep. In another movement, they do the same to the other. Power and vitality seems to sink back into your body, drip by drip.

Words escape you, but not Nicolas.

“Excuse me, demon, but we're the ones who summoned you.” The sarcastic tone of his does little to hide the quivers of his fear, especially when the demon's neck turns toward him at an unnatural speed. Still, he persists. “Not her. And we want-”

“Do you take me for a blind fool?” The voice bellows, sending all the boys to their knees. Markus clutches his ears while Hunter whimpers on the ground. Nicolas falls back to the ground, eyes widen.  The demon stands to their full height, several feet above all of you. “Do you think I was born without smell, without sense?” The step away from your body, swiping at the ground with their fingers, taking a small bit of your blood with it.

The demon sticks their thumb and forefinger in front of Nicolas’s face, causing him to yelp and fall onto his back. “Is this your blood which forged the connection? Was it your words that spoke me into existence? Was it your body which came to the brink, wrenched open the door and pulled us both through?”

Nicolas, trembling like a leaf, shakes his head no. The demon’s eyes jerk up to the others. “And was it any of these young men?”  

Richard furiously shakes his head, while Hunter stays collapsed on the ground. Markus pushes himself away, hands still clamped around his ears. The demon sneers, before turning and walking back to you.

The demon kneels before propping your upper body up with a gentle touch. A comforting claw rubs your lower back while another paw rubs the tension out of your shoulders.

“Now, mistress, what may you ask of me?”

Your muscles may no longer tire from blood loss, but your mind truly feels like it’s on the brink of breaking. The demon, with fearsome fangs and a soft look, looks to you for an answer.

“I-I…” You mutter as the demon continues to massage your back. They hum.

“Take your time, it is alright. Rituals are difficult, I can only imagine the toll your body feels.” The mass of voices have synchronized, fading from a hundred to a single, harmonious tune. It is cavernously deep, but pleasant. It reminds you of the portly older man who used to read stories aloud every holiday.

You feel your body unconsciously turn towards your captors. Nicholas stays stuck to the ground, the whites of his eyes almost glowing in the darkness. The others have slowly moved to their knees, all terrified with shaky limbs, and look like they might make a run for it. Markus is slowly inching towards Nicholas’ shoulders, trying to lift him up to his senses.

For the first time in your life, a deep, boiling hatred burns your skin.

Cowards. You sneer, with all the malice stored in your reserves.

“I want-I want…” You stumble as the anger bubbles out of your belly. “I want them to hurt. To feel humiliated.” Nails bite into the palm of your hand, letting out blood as you clench knuckles. “I want everyone to know what they’ve done, who they are, every fault they’ve ever been guilty of. I want them alive, but I want them to burn.”

The demon smiles, pulling you in for a hug. You collapse into their embrace, keeping your eyes locked onto the boys, those rats. The demon hums a contented tune as they rub your back.

“As you wish, my master.”

[amesstm]

You Should’ve Come to Shiratorizawa

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader

Word Count: idk because I’m too lazy to check Word. So maybe 2K?

Summary: after losing his chance at going to nationals in his second-year, Oikawa sees a different reason why he should’ve gone to Shiratorizawa.

Warnings: nothing but fluff

A/N: inspired by ushijima’s favorite phrase lol

⊱ ━━━━━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━━━━━⊰

This was Oikawa’s moment. It was his second-year and he must make it to nationals. No - he would make it to nationals. He absolutely had to, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. All the days, hours, minutes, and pure seconds he dedicated to this match would mean something. Iwaizumi had to stop the determined setter from training himself to the point of breaking. Yet, it would all be worth it in this match.

Oikawa remembers the monster Ushijima Wakatoshi, and how that monster looked down on him in his last year of junior high. The mere memory of inferiority made him grind his teeth and furrow his eyebrows with his arms crossed. Even when they had a practice match together, Shiratorizawa still won. And that same condescending expression still haunted him.

“You’re going to break your teeth.”

Oikawa turned around, knowing that it would be Iwaizumi anyways. He plastered his classic, fake smile onto his face. In a sing-song voice, he replied, “Iwa-chan! You do care!”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and smacked him on the back of the head. “Just don’t get yourself out of the game before it even starts.”

Not wanting to hear another lecture, Oikawa nodded and returned to glaring at the doors that had yet to open.

~

On the other side, the predicted-champions were stretching. Ushijima laid out on the floor, stretching out his lower back. Usually, Tendo would’ve joined him but he decided to try to progress his gymnastics career. Did you understand what position he was in with his head in between his legs that grew closer and closer to the floor? No. But did you know that was something Tendo would do? Yep.

“‘Tori, you need to win the match so I can win a bet,” you said, with an imaginary halo hovering over your head. You even tilted your head to meet his eyes as he peered at you from upside down.

Being Shiratorizawa’s manager meant that you had an insight into their training; so, you knew you’d be eating well tonight. The comment wasn’t filled with any tone of concern. After all, this was Shiratorizawa.

“Nani?” Your redheaded friend asked, raising his head to look at you. Tendo’s wide eyes stared at you and into you, serious as Ushijima. Then he burst into his warm persona with a chocolate-sweet smile, “You put a bet on us to win? That’s so sweet!”

“Of course, I did! You guys always win,” you replied like it was a fact. As of this moment, Shiratorizawa hasn’t lost a match this season. You were absolutely sure that they would beat Aoba Seijoh, too. They’ve done it before and it will happen again.

Finally, the doors opened.

The blue and white colors greeted you from across the court. Banners hoping to garner the attention of Oikawa Tooru, the pretty boy setter of their team, were waved around proudly and erratically. Girlish screams echoed through the gym as their team entered.

“They’re very loud,” Wakatoshi muttered under his breath. He glowered at the opposing cheer section, probably putting some people in the hospital from mere shock.

“That’s because they have a pretty boy to cheer for,” Tendo said, lightening the mood as Wakatoshi grew more and more annoyed at the noise.

Oikawa’s reputation for being ‘perfect’ was well-known, mostly amongst the girls. Clearly, the girls in the gym believed in that wholeheartedly. To you, it was annoying. After all, no one was perfect. It was even more annoying dealing with that personality in person. During the practice match, his ego took up half of the gym. Hopefully, he’d be humbled today.

“Didn’t you want Oikawa to come to Shiratorizawa?” You asked despite knowing the answer. Admittedly, you just loved seeing how riled up Wakatoshi got about the ordeal. It was one of the few times the statue showed emotion.

“He’s an amazing setter and would’ve performed to his highest level had he come to our team,” the ace explained without skipping a beat. His eagle eyes focused on the brunette from across the floor, poking holes in him. It seemed that the setter felt the intense stare, because he returned it before turning away with a reddened face immediately.

~

“They’re so loud already,” Iwaizumi complained as soon as they entered the gym. He tried his best to mask his distaste for the cheers, but the outrageous screams for Oikawa made it difficult. “Can you tell them to be quiet?”

“Of course not! They’re my fans and I love them,” Oikawa replied with his cutest smile as he waved to everyone. Squeals of excitement greeted him back, making him grin all the more from the attention to his ego.

“I think I see another fan,” Matsukawa teased, subtly pointing across the gym.

Oikawa’s eyes followed his finger and saw his worst nightmare. Shiratorizawa’s prized possession, Ushijima Wakatoshi, was staring holes into his very being. Oikawa shivered with fear, until his eyes narrowed in on the girl beside him.

Wow, she’s really pretty. Wait – I can’t hit on the enemy!

Turning red, he shifted away from the opposing team. Hanamaki quirked an eyebrow, “Finally realize your attraction towards Ushiwaka?”

Oikawa shivered with disgust, “I’m not attracted to him!”

“Oh?” Matsukawa cheekily smiled. He turned to Hanamaki, continuing, “I bet that he’s hitting on the manager.”

The setter’s ears perked up, “That’s their manager?”

“If you actually looked at your surroundings, you would’ve realized this sooner,” Iwaizumi stated with disappointment. He added, “She was at our practice match, too, Shittykawa.”

Choosing to ignore the obvious slander, Oikawa pouted and sighed, “Too bad she’s with the enemy.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, “Only you could care about that type of thing.”

“Get your head in the game,” the captain barked at the second-years, clearly annoyed that they were just goofing off instead of warming up.

“We’ll win,” Oikawa said before stretching. “We need to.”

~

As expected, Shiratorizawa won with flying colors, led by the genius that was Ushijima Wakatoshi. The match point started with a serve from Oikawa and ended with a powerful spike from Ushijima.

Across from the gym, you saw the setter crumble to the ground. Even with the distance, you could hear Oikawa’s heartfelt apologizes that he couldn’t land an ace service. Some tears were wiped away hastily with shame. Not even the reassurances from his fans stopped the waterfall.

Surprisingly, the pretty boy was an ugly cryer. Seeing him in this imperfect state made you not want to look away. Was all that ego just a show to hide his insecurities?

“Don’t feel bad for him,” Ushijima said, drawing you out of your haze. If anyone who didn’t know him overheard what he said, he would’ve sounded like a cold hearted victor without any humility. But you knew him and his meaning. “He should’ve come to Shiratorizawa.”

You sighed but still smiled. “I knew you’d say that.” Then, upon further inspection with your nose, you cringed, “Come on, you need to shower.”

After Coach Tanji gave his victory speech, the boys were dismissed to the locker room. As usual, you were left outside of the restrooms to wait. Fangirls whimpered over Oikawa’s melancholy state and even dared to suggest that Shiratorizawa tipped off the referee.

“If you think we needed bribes to win, then you know nothing about volleyball,” you defended your team, glaring at them like an eagle ready to snatch their prey. After watching these boys practice and endure yelling from their coach for hours on end, no mere suggestion of cheating or bribery would be tolerated.

As the girls opened their mouths to snap back at you, a different voice flew through the air. One that was noticeably deeper than these whiny pigeons. “As much as I hate to admit it, Shiratorizawa won fair and square.”

Of course, that voice belonged to Oikawa. You’ve heard his voice before. Most of the time, it would be higher pitched, flirtatious, and vibrant. Now, it was deeper, more serious, and grey.

“Thank you,” you muttered before being overrun by his fangirls who rushed to console him. You rolled your eyes. Reminding him of his loss wouldn’t make him feel better at all.

Yet, Oikawa perked up to the attention like a sunflower reaching for light. The usual tone of voice returned and his classic smile rose to his face. But when they were gone, the show drew to a close. The setter’s gaze turned to you. Something about it was sad and longing. He just couldn’t accept the fact, that along with this match’s victory, Ushijima had you, too.

“Oikawa,” a voice behind you rumbled. You turned to see a freshly showered Wakatoshi, who smelled infinitely better now. “You should’ve come to Shiratorizawa.”

The victim of this constant reminder grimaced and sighed from dejection. “Not this again.”

“You know that I’m right.”

“I could never go there with you, my enemy,” Oikawa spat and crossed his arms.

Should you be here? Probably not since it felt like a lovers’ quarrel but hey, free entertainment. You closed your eyes and leaned back on the bench, blocking out their voices. It was quite easy since you couldn’t rest well from the anxiety of the results for nationals these past few weeks.

Soon, you opened your eyes to find Ushijima gone and Oikawa staring at you. “Why did you go to Shiratorizawa?”

In reality, it was because you didn’t want to leave Tendo alone. Instead, you shrugged, “Good academics.”

“… so why are you with Ushijima?” Oikawa asked, ready to scrutinize your reason. A part of him wanted to know if you were actually single. Another part wondered how anyone could tolerate his presence.

Although you tried to hold yourself back, laughter poured from you. You tried to calm yourself down, but the idea of dating a literal statue with no social awareness - no matter how handsome - made you laugh once more.

Students from Shiratorizawa had a reputation of being stern - unless you were Tendo, of course. In fact, most Shiratorizawa students that Oikawa had the displeasure of meeting seemed that way. So, seeing someone loosely enjoying themselves brought you even closer to Oikawa’s type. Your laughter made him want to laugh, even if he didn’t know why you were laughing.

“I couldn’t date Ushijima,” you explained. “We don’t have the same sense of humor.”

Oikawa shifted to his side, slightly with relief. Subconsciously, he started preening himself. “I don’t think Ushijima can be funny.”

“No, no. He can be funny, but it’s mostly by accident,” you elaborated with a chuckle.

“I like your laugh,” Oikawa declared. You weren’t sure if it was a compliment, since it sounded more like he was telling himself of that fact.

You quirked an eyebrow, “You’re even weirder than I thought.”

“Hey, my team already bullies me enough!” Oikawa whined. Despite his little facade of being sad, he still couldn’t hold back his smile.

You giggled, “They bully you?”

“Over everything!” Oikawa stated with a show of his arms in defeat.

“I wouldn’t bully you,” you proclaimed with sincerity.

“You really are an angel,” Oikawa complimented with awe. “I wish you went to Aoba Josai.”

“Awh, really?” You asked with a tilt of your head. Oikawa nodded. Smirking, you chuckled, “Then, you should’ve come to Shiratorizawa.”

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