#so you can just quietly lurk without anyone knowing

[jusst-you-race]

okay so literally no one asked for it BUT because there are so many ccc-verse fics now and it’s becoming kind of a Thing, I thought it might be nice to make a discord server… who knows if anyone will be interested in this, it might just be like me and three other people but it would be cool to have people join? idk… you can pester me about info and chapters super easily I guess if that’s appealing

link for sever here

[clazaries]

The Thin Line Between Victory and Survival NSFW!

(Santiago "Pope" Garcia x f!soldier!reader)

Summary: Having been newly promoted, your first mission with Delta Force goes wrong and you have to deal with the consequences of going against Santiago's orders

w/c: 6.6k

Warnings: NSFW! war environment, slight knife play, masturbation (f!reader), oral (m!receiving), self-edging, orgasm denial, choking, dom!Santi, p in v, slight fluff at the end, think that's everything?

a/n: reader's callsign is 'Midge'. this takes place after the events of triple frontier but where the gang are still active members of Delta Force. I kinda imagined Santiago as Ghost from COD (cos daddy)

ENJOY!

***

“Frankie. Sit rep?”

“ETA 30 seconds. Sit tight.” 

“Rog’.” Santi’s gravelly voice worms its way into your ear in harsh rumbles as you begin to take position at the edge of a sandy cliff, overwatching the vast desert valley ahead of you. His voice shakes the nerves inside you that are already on high alert. You remind yourself to turn down your comms when you can afford the chance. “Midge, how copy?” 

You perk to attention at the sound of your nickname and respond accordingly. “Loud and clear, sir. In position. Eyes on Frankie.” 

Towards the heart of the valley, Frankie’s distant figure calmly approaches the enemy-riddled farm under the cover of darkness and you watch with bated breath through a window of green. Directly ahead of you, even further away on the mirroring side of the valley is your superior Santiago “Pope” Garcia, providing overwatch just as you are. You can’t see him but you know he’s there, like a ghost lurking in the shadows. Even though you are just as concealed as he is, you have this disconcerting feeling that he’s very much capable of plucking you out, watching you.

You readjust yourself nervously.

It’s incredibly dark with nothing but the twinkling stars and Jupiter’s bright sparkle to keep anyone sane. Without the night vision goggles, you are a lost hope. They sit squarely on your nose, grinding the bone and encasing your eyes, and the sweat trickling down your neck is no home comfort either, but now is not the time to be complaining. You have a job to do. 

Having been recently promoted for your sharp shooting and bright mind, you’re no longer an extra in someone else’s play, you’re the real deal now. You’re still taking orders no less, except now word doesn’t have to pass through at least three ranks above you like a game of Chinese Whispers before you receive the order. 

Every mission is different but your response has always been the same: subdued nerves to begin, then before long, you’re in your element and the job gets done. However, this task in particular has your heart beating a little harder and you don’t sense it settling any time soon. The whole mission is unnerving. It’s just you, Frankie and Santiago, sent out into the middle of nowhere to retrieve controls for a weapon that’s been missing from the US government for three years. The very same that is currently being protected and fortified by an armada of Russian extremists. Every minute in between the initial briefing and your current breath has been spent quietly fretting about it.

This mission alone has introduced a lot of firsts for you; first time working with Delta Force rather than for, first time working off the grid, first time working in a squad with fewer than 5 comrades beside you, first time being completely and hopelessly outnumbered…

First time feeling extremely, extremely doubtful. 

“Remember, this is a covert operation and completely off the grid so keep it quiet. Frankie, I want you in and out before they even get a whiff that you were ever there, and Midge--” you gulp, “keep Frankie alive.”

“Yes, sir.” You and Frankie’s voices ring through simultaneously. By now, Frankie has approached the back door of the barren barn, a large building that no doubt houses a number of enemies inside. Through your scope, you witness Frankie infiltrating the barn, his voice verbally confirming it seconds later. “I’m in. Going dark.”

“Copy that.” 

The second you lose sight of him you take a hefty breath, letting it flood your lungs while the waiting game begins. From out here, there’s nothing you can do for him except warn him of any outside movements. As of right now, he’s on his own, doing what he does best. 

“Stay sharp.” 

You keep quiet on your side of comms, too paranoid to risk speaking unnecessarily. Instead, you keep your wits on what’s in front of you. There’s no movement, not even a breath of wind to shake the lonely tree that stands at the far end of the farm and it feels as though time has stood still. If it wasn’t for the mouse scuttling underneath your sniper stand, you would’ve thought so.

The little creature skips and hops over the rocks to your right, stopping every couple of seconds to clean the dust from its ears. Cute. You quirk a smile at the thought of something as simple as a mouse breaking the tension that’s riddling your bones. God knows you need it. Every fibre of your being is buzzing with uncertainty and the heavy nauseating feeling in your stomach is enough of a sign that something about this mission just isn’t right. Some would call it instinct, others would call it a load of rubbish, regardless, the feeling is there and you’re not willing to ignore it. 

In all honesty, you would’ve carried out this mission entirely differently if you had the authority. But that’s the thing. You don’t. Outranked and out-experienced by the two men alongside you, you had no option but to play by their rules. Where you would’ve gone all-in, they chose to keep their cards close to their chests. 

You never agreed with the idea that less is more. Not in the military. 

Ten agonising minutes pass by. Nothing has been said and nothing warrants being said. Everything about you is screaming to point out the obvious; that something clearly isn’t going right. Frankie should’ve been out by now.

“I don’t like this. It’s too quiet. Nothing’s happening.” 

Santiago instantly replies, a slight ring of chagrin evident in his tone. “Good. Means we haven’t been compromised.” 

“Then why isn’t he out?” 

“Patience, Midge. Keep focussed.” 

You’re seconds away from overstepping boundaries and saying something you shouldn’t, but the moment you open your mouth, you spot a black vehicle off in the distance, quickly morphing into view as it speeds across the expanse of the valley with a plume of dust trailing behind it. It’s heading directly towards the farm. 

“Be advised. Vehicle inbound coming in from the north. Pope, you see it?” 

“Affirmative. Six Russians inside and likely armed. Do. Not. Engage. Frankie, get the hell on with it and get those controls.” 

The vehicle approaches and screeches to a stop, the occupants immediately disperse from the vehicle with rifles in hand. Fear shoots through you, wide eyes pinned on the door Frankie entered through, desperate for it to open again and see Frankie escape but alas, no sign of him. “Come on, come on, come on…” 

“Enemies heading towards the front entrance.” 

“I’ve got a shot on two of them.” 

“No. Stand down. Do not engage. They don’t know we’re here, we can’t draw attention to ourselves.” Pope’s voice rages through your earpiece again and you wince, both from his tone and volume. 

“Why the fuck are we here then?” 

“To prevent a ruckus from happening. If we engage, we’ll be the reason for it. Now shut up and keep your eyes peeled. Frankie, for Christ’s sake, you better have those controls.” 

You listen intently for his voice, hoping that he’s succeeded and he’s on his way back, but when you hear a slight crackle, a groan and high-pitched frequency piercing through the comms, you assume the worst. Your heart stops dead in your chest when you hear a shot being fired, its echo carrying the weight of dread right to your position. “Fuck! Santi--” 

“Frankie! Do you copy?” 

Short, resounding booms resonate from the farm and you’re left with no doubt that Frankie’s position has been compromised, leaving his life and the controls to this weapon at stake. You can’t afford to lose both and you’re certain that Pope knows that too, so why isn’t he giving the order for backup? 

“He needs help!” 

“Stay put! I can’t risk losing two of you. This is Pope to Ironhead, how copy?” 

You drown out William’s voice with worries of your own, constantly watching for signs of Frankie’s survival but to no avail, you find none. You knew this mission was never going to succeed. Your instinct was right. And based on that fact alone, what’s to stop you assuming that when your gut instinct is now telling you to go and extract Frankie and the controls yourself, it’s the right decision no matter what your orders are?

“Fuck this.” With haste, you pack up your equipment, whipping it over your shoulder with a new-found surge of adrenaline pumping through you. The hill you’re perched on isn’t tall, but it is steep, so as you run down the slope, your body falls faster than your legs can keep up. The howl of air blows past your ears and the clinking and clanking of your equipment rattles with each step. Even still with the cacophony of sounds, nothing can be louder than your boss’s rage. 

“Midge! What the fuck are you doing? Get back to your position!” 

You don’t bother responding because you’re too out of breath…and mostly because you’re shit scared. When you hear his voice again, you’re at the door Frankie entered through with a shaky hand holding your pistol and the other tightly gripping the handle. 

“Midge, so help me God, if you take another step--” 

“We can’t leave Frankie!”

“We don’t know if he’s still alive.”

“But we know the controls are in there, if we can’t get one, we’ll get the other.”

“NO! You get back here right fucking now!” The scratch of his growl descends down your body, making you curl your toes. Suddenly, a farm full of Russian extremists doesn’t seem to be your biggest threat…

“I’m going in.” 

A grunted sigh crackles through the comms as Pope watches you push through the door into chaos. 

“Just so you know, if you somehow survive this, I will kill you myself.” 

~~~~

Miraculously, you did exactly that. You survived. Not only did you extract Frankie’s beaten body and save his life, you also retrieved the controls before they got away. You can’t deny that the odds were slim and it did nearly cost both of your lives, but at the expense of breaking a few rules and a few bones, you made it. And you won’t apologise for a single bit of it sitting here in an unused briefing room with Santiago. 

The tale of twists and turns didn’t end when you and Frankie both made it out alive only hours ago, in fact, it continues with Santi; a man with chains around his heart, a shield around his mind and a look of steel donning his face. It is fair to say his reputation precedes him, especially since his comrade Redfly died years ago. Before you met him officially, you had only ever heard of his emotionless gaze, his inhuman self-restraint and deeply enigmatic personality, and you found it strange that no one told you what it was like to be around him. Until Frankie told you that how you felt being in a room with him could not be explained through words, it was something you had to experience for yourself. 

Frankie was right. You had to be there to see that he was stronger, colder, smarter, more intimidating than anyone had let on. His presence wasn’t one to be easily swallowed. It was obvious that strangers couldn’t settle the unease they felt when he walked into the room; cautious eyes, bitten lips, fidgeting muscles. They succumbed to his eerie, silent domination very quickly. Quicker if those dark eyes were locked on you. They were seared into the back of your mind the moment they landed on you for the first time, remembering how you just couldn’t decipher the encrypted messages they hid. Whoever stated that the eyes were windows to the soul had clearly never met Santiago.

But tonight, that restraint is gone. He is positively seething. Outwardly, publicly, irrationally seething. In the dimly lit room, he stands menacingly in the corner where the light doesn’t quite reach, yet still you can see his knuckles tensing and untensing with each breath he takes. You don’t say a word, quietly picking at the forming scab on your knuckle, and in your head, you speak the words you don’t have the conviction to say out loud. 

“Do you have any idea how fucking reckless you are?” 

You slowly peer up to him, his words still processing as you narrow in on him. “Reckless? With all due respect, my actions saved a man’s life and finished the mission. What part of that is reckless?” 

“The part where you didn’t follow my orders! You went rogue. Off plan. Completely out of line. If you don’t follow orders, you don’t know how it will end. I could’ve lost you both unnecessarily.” 

“Could’ve,” you mutter.

He begins to loom closer, taking every word of yours like they’re a sour taste in his mouth. In muted tones, he whispers out to you. “What?” 

“You said you could’ve lost us both. But you didn’t.” The words feel like liberation. It’s the first time you’ve ever behaved like this. It’s so uncharacteristic but you just feel so insulted by his lack of gratitude or appreciation that anger bubbles inside you, spitting out words that you know you shouldn't, turning you into someone you definitely aren’t. You are usually a rule follower, you are usually obedient, and you usually respect authority, but in the blinding light of anger, you just can’t surrender to Santiago’s discipline so easily. 

“And you should’ve listened to me. But you didn’t. Nobody ever fucking listens to me and they end up dead because of it.” 

“Just because Redfly did, doesn’t mean everyone else will too.”

Low blow, Midge. 

Sensing immediate regret, you keep your eyes firmly pinned on your hands on the table in front of you. Like a dark rain cloud, you catch sight of his shadow engulfing your own. His stature and all-encompassing presence emerges behind you but you don’t dare move a single muscle. His hands curl around the back of the chair you’re sitting in, the pathetic plastic creaking under his fists. The brave front you’re putting on begins to yield to his growing temperament and the facade crumbles piece by piece. 

Everyone in the unit had heard of what happened when a certain team of the Delta Force went rogue. The US Army had never let them live it down since.

He leans his head over your stiff shoulder and you can even feel the heat of his anger just glazing over the shell of your ear. 

“Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare.” Santiago spits every word with heavy articulation as if he’s etching the words into your brain. His laboured breathing is a concern, knowing that it’s a warning of the wrath that’s about to ensue. “Redfly didn’t follow my orders to stand down and it inevitably got him killed. And right now, the same might happen to you.”

With a sharp, unexpectant tug of your hair, your head whips back, swinging the chair with you until the overhead light burns into your eyes. Reflexes have your hands gripping the edge of the table until they turn white with tension, stopping yourself from tipping backwards. The sudden blade on your neck stops you moving forward.

“Do you remember what I said to you before you disobeyed me?” 

You remember all too well. If you somehow survive this, I will kill you myself.

“You wouldn’t.” 

Santiago presses the blade harder against your skin, unapologetic. “Wouldn’t I?” 

You really don’t know whether to call his bluff but to stay on the safe side you remain silent. Until anything happens, you are both stuck staring into each other’s eyes, holding a resentment none of you are willing to let go of. Looking up at him, it’s obvious that he is teetering on the edge of breaking a few rules himself, allowing the sharp edge of the knife to roll across the expanse of your neck, bobbing as you swallow, until the sharp point rests precariously atop your pulse. But even he knows himself that he wouldn’t follow through with it, because as much as it pains him to admit it, your courageous actions, although downright stupid, did save Frankie’s life and secured the controls. And he fucking hates it. If there was anything he could do to scare the absolute shit out of you to stop you being so smug and defiant about it, he would do it in a heartbeat.

“Santiago,” you warn, just as the point of the knife starts to break through the thin layer of skin on your neck. You try to move your head but he still has his fist entangled through your roots. 

The instant the little whine of his name broke from your lips, something snapped inside him. The desperation of it, it was too provocative for him to ignore and an electrical feeling pulsed from his chest and shot straight towards his dick. Having you in his tight clutches, essentially at his mercy, exacerbated the feeling and suddenly he could feel himself growing hard. Fuck, what was he doing?

It’s perverse of him to want to hear it again, to see those plump but bitten lips of yours say his name again in a plea for his forgiveness. He becomes so fixated on the idea that he gets carried away, pricking your skin with the knife, watching as your eyes widen and your body writhing beneath him. 

“AHH! Pope--fuck--okay, okay, I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry, just…please let go of the knife.” There it was again, the slight twitch in his dick, one that makes him grow uncomfortable beneath his boxers. 

It’s one thing for Pope to be angry, but when lust is thrown into the equation, there’s much less he can do to suppress it and with you still whimpering beneath him, it’s something he’s quickly realised. 

He relieves the pressure of the knife just enough to alleviate the pain but not enough that you haven’t completely escaped its threat. He moves out of your sight, his head dropping lower until his lips are gracing across your ear. You hear nothing but his slow breathing, funnelling down your ear and you instantly shiver. You want to pull away from him but for some reason, you’re chemically drawn into him; his close proximity, the smell of him, the hold he has on you, it’s all so…dangerously alluring. Something changes and the air starts to grow hot. 

“Y’know,” he purrs, “I can’t allow you stay on my team if you can’t listen to my orders--” 

“No! No, I-I want to stay.” 

“How do I know you won’t pull something stupid like this again, hm? You’re still a rookie, you’re not an addition to this team, no, what you are is a liability. Your actions today proved to me that you are just not capable.” 

“I am. I was promoted for a reason.” 

“Yeah? Prove it. Prove you’re capable and I might consider keeping you on my team.” 

“How?” 

“It’s simple,” he says, his lips trailing from your ear to skim across your cheek, just teasing with feather light touches. “Follow…my…orders. Do you understand?” 

Your cheeks are burning, your lungs are heaving, everything about this screams ‘this is a risk you shouldn’t take’. But it’s hard to heed those words when Santiago’s grip of your hair loossens to soothing scalp scratches, when the tips of his lips and his nose brush over your burning cheek, inhaling the scent of you, when your gut is telling you to listen to how tempted your body is, how wanting it is for him. 

Your thighs press together beneath the table. 

“Yes.” 

“Yes…what?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Better. Stand up.” You swing forward so fast that a violent rush of blood to your head almost makes you lose your balance, but Santiago keeps you up with a firm hold to your arm while he casually throws the knife onto the table. He perches himself in front of you to lean against the edge of the table, touching toe-to-toe and holds your gaze; bold, dark brown eyes that give nothing away about the inner workings of his mind. And it’s those same eyes that can read everything about you.

“Nervous, soldier?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Don’t lie.” 

“A…A little, sir.” 

“Good, you should be. Take off your top.” 

With those words, you know, that whatever happens from this moment on, Santiago will not be following any official protocol but his own. You do as he says, now feeling the heat of the room touching your bare skin. Santiago admires the way your belt hugs around your waist, waiting for the moment his hands can do the same when he’s fucking you from behind. Your bra is standard, nothing sexy. It’s what he expects on a day you had been on a mission, but what his eyes catch is your nipples pebbling through the material, and the slight blood stain discolouring the straps from the shrapnel wound to your shoulder that he didn’t realise you had. 

“At ease,” he commands. You act on instinct, bracing your hands behind your back with your legs standing shoulders-width apart. The instruction has been ingrained in you since the day you started your training. “You got hurt?”

“Minor wounds.” 

“Wounds you wouldn’t have had if you had listened to me.”

Fluttering warmth spreads from your core the moment Santiago cups your breast, your nipple weaving through his fingers and caught in a tight pinch. When you don’t react, he peers up at you to engage in a wordless conversation that both are in tune with. Keep going? Yes. He brings his other hand up to mirror the other and this time he finally elicits a small, but audible sigh from you. 

It’s been so long since you’ve had anyone like this, even longer for Santiago. His failures to locate his old contact Yovanna in Australia broke him and since then, he had sworn off getting close with anyone for fears of time repeating itself. As for you? You had yet to claim anyone as your own. Sure, you’ve had a few romances over the years but no one had ever satisfied you in the sick, slightly twisted way you were searching for. Up until now, you didn’t think there was a man out there who was interested in the same things you were. You didn’t think they existed.

Until you met Santiago. He is a thrill personified. 

It was impossibly cruel that the world had dealt you this hand; to fantasise over the ways his gravelly voice could murmur the dirtiest, filthiest things to you, the ways his experienced hands could ruin with the slightest of touches. However, you always knew that professionalism and the dangers of your line of work would always take priority over your fantasies, and you forced yourself out of your fictional world to come face to face with the harsh reality of war. It was a miracle how you were able to survive this long without going absolutely feral, but now, with Santiago losing his patience too, you’re starting to think that you won’t last much longer. 

“So fucking reckless,” he whispers, a reminder for both you and himself. His brow dips when his frustration rolls back in its tide, keeping that stone-cold expression hard on his face. It’s slightly different though. His parted lips, his vigorous movements, the slight pant to his breath. In your eyes, it all points towards desire more than frustration. “As your superior…” His voice is somehow quieter, but it’s heard all the same, “it’s my responsibility to punish you, to teach you a lesson about discipline. You need to learn that when I tell you to do something, you fucking do it. You understand?” 

A bead of sweat rolls down the back of your neck fluidly, your hands itching to wipe it away but obedience locks them behind your back. Suddenly, he snaps forward, his hand coming to snatch your jaw and force you to look him in the eyes. The precision of his quick movements makes you flinch, trapping a breath in your lungs and he notices, lips curling momentarily. 

“Yes, sir!”

Shivers follow wherever his other hand roams. He moulds out the shape of your waist and hips, squeezing tighter than your belt ever could. He begins to unbuckle your belt with little regard, popping the button of your trousers and bursting the zip to admire the way your trousers hang loosely from your hips. Everything inside you tenses at the sudden exposure.

Santiago begins toying with you, running his knuckles lightly over the edge of your underwear, dipping just the tip of his finger beneath the elastic rim, but retreats just as quickly. He follows the line of your navel, travelling up and up to trace small ghostly circles around your ribcage and it takes everything in you not to shudder. Your body can’t quite figure out how to tune into him, the stark contrast between the harsh grip he has on your jaw and the fluttering touches to your body has your mind going crazy and it’s mildly disorientating. 

His thumb circles around your chin before resting upon your bottom lip, pulling it out into a pout for his eyes to fixate on. He has that expression on his face that you’ve seen before; determined and fully resolute. The features of a man with authority. 

“That mouth…” he pants, “‘s gotten you into trouble today.” He draws you in until the tips of your noses clash and he’s a hair’s breadth away from kissing you. Instead…“I want to fuck it. Get on your knees, soldier.”

Your knees collide the cold surface of the ground almost instantly much to his pleasure. He wastes no time undoing his belt as efficiently as he did yours, and before too long the tip of his lengthy cock replaces where his thumb was just seconds before, wet with little beads of cum. Your hands reach out to guide him into your mouth but he snatches your wrist before you can commit. 

“Nuh-uh, this one’s for you. If you have some semblance of discipline, you’ll cum only when I say.”

You nod, falsely, and promptly take him into your mouth with one hand at the base of his cock while the other slips beneath your underwear and swirls around your clit the way you know best. A strangled groan leaves his throat and you feel the vibrations of it with the way his cock twitches in your mouth. The same pleasure buzzes in you, spreading warmth from your stomach down to your cunt. 

Despite having eventually found a rhythm that you can settle into, bobbing your head and taking as much of him as you can, you can’t find balance. Your multitasking skills have taken a hit because as soon as you feel the tight pinch of pleasure erupting from your clit, you know you can’t succumb to it and just like that, all your focus and effort turns to pleasuring him and the feeling dissipates. It’s torturous having to edge yourself, it’s not something you are particularly well-versed in. 

“So good, so fucking good,” he praises. Santiago’s hands come to scrape through your hair and take control, causing you to move faster and suck him down even harder, so much that you have to plant your other hand against his thigh to regain balance, going against his orders. He notices and chastises you. “Get that fucking hand back where it should be.” 

A moan gargles from your throat, a lack of patience wearing you thin. It doesn’t help that you’re incredibly turned on by the whole situation and you’re hesitant to touch yourself because of it, unsure how much more you can take before yet another one of Santi’s orders is disobeyed. So you take it slow, lazily circling around your bud just enough to keep you satiated while you occupy yourself with Santiago. Your mouth detaches from him with a pop, using those tear-stained eyes of yours to silently beg for his own release in exchange for your own but his head is thrown back and takes no notice, indulging in the way your tongue swirls around his tip. Just the sight of the vein popping from his neck is enough to send a rush of lust to mount up onto the orgasm that’s impatiently waiting. Fuck, you really need to cum. 

What gets his attention is your needy little whine. A whine that warns you both that you’re on the precipice of cumming, that if you pressed any harder on your sensitive clit you would combust. Your thighs are almost rattling beneath you.

“Don’t you dare,” he warns in a low growl, thrusting into your wet mouth and straight to the back of your throat. “Don’t you disobey me.” 

“I can’t hold on,” you splutter. 

“You can and you will. Fuuuck…” 

Decidedly, your hand comes to a halt because after all, this is about discipline, right? It’s all about being able to control yourself, to place your trust in him and listen to what he says hoping that it will all pay off. 

You need to do something that would push him over the edge, do something that would completely shatter his world, never to be forgotten. You offer every trick in the book; swirling around your tongue around the head of his cock, sweeping it across the small slit to collect the small bead of cum, teasing him before taking him down your throat and gagging on him. He’s already so close, and you're already dripping onto your hand, and with one last final trick up your sleeve, you catch his eyes, sink yourself onto him until your nose bashes against skin, and fight through the gag. Teeth baring, you slowly, lightly, graze your teeth up his cock, ghosting over every vein that pulses, leaving behind the soothing aftercare of your soft lips. By your side, his thighs twitch and by the time you reach the head of his cock, an explosion happens. 

Santiago leans forward, grappling onto your head as you drink down everything he gives you. His entire body tenses, trapping you into a headlock and just only for a couple of seconds do you feel yourself losing breath, but it doesn’t matter, because above you he’s panting heavily, enclosing his thighs around your head and holding onto you for dear life. It’s all the signs you need to know that you’ve done what you promised, you proved yourself. 

“Fucking hell,” Santiago pants. His grip loosens around you and you suck down a large breath as he releases you. The instant your lips are free, he forces you to a stand and claims them, humming into them with hunger. He slips his tongue past your lips searching for a taste of himself on you with a delectable moan. It only takes him a couple of seconds of clawing at your waist before his hand slips beneath your underwear to feel the result of your constant edging; a wet cunt that’s pleading for relief. The slightest touch of his fingers has your hips buckling, you’re so close it hurts. 

“So wet. So needy.”

“F-fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper. You want it, you need it, you can’t live without it, for god sake, please!

“Yeah?” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “On whose authority?”

“Santiago, please.” 

“I told you this is about discipline and listening to orders--” his fingers drill into your clit with absolute precision and immediately takes control of your pleasure, luring it to the surface. “Did I say you could cum?” 

“No, but--” 

“Then you can’t. Have the discipline to stop it.” 

“Fuck!” Just seconds away from orgasm, you drop to a crouch, his hand slipping from you in one fluid movement. So close, so fucking close. 

Santiago maniacally chuckles above you. He has little sympathy for you hunched on the ground reeling into yourself, but what he does have though, is just a little pride. Pride that you listened, that you obeyed no matter how desperate you were to go against his word. Because, of course, in Santiago’s eyes, his word overrules everyone else’s. His word is gospel. What he says goes. 

You don’t get to relish the pride he has for you because you are spiralling. Your shaking body can’t allow you to stand knowing that even the slightest friction of anything against your clit would set you off and you’ve done so well to abide by his rules, you wouldn’t want to ruin it.

Santiago’s hand comes to stroke the back of your head in a supportive manner to find that you’re burning up. It’s obvious that you need release and that resides with him. 

“Stand up.”

“I…I don’t think I can.” 

“Come on,” he demands, his tone a little harsher. “Stand up and put your hands on the table.”

Shaky legs raise you to your feet and you brace yourself against the hard wooden table, the cold surface just a slight relief to the fire raging through your body. Santiago teases down your trousers leaving your panties to feel the brush of his hips against your ass, giving you a large hint of what’s to come. Your stomach plummets at the thought of having to hang onto the precipice for any longer. You could cry at the thought, tears ready and waiting behind your eyes. 

“Good girl,” he whispers seductively. “You’re so close, aren’t you? So desperate for release that just one--” he lightly brushes your clit through your underwear, “little--” he does it again and you judder, “touch will set you off.” 

Jesus, you could cry. You could cry and cry and cry, and beg for forgiveness, yield and submit yourself completely to him for the one second of pure bliss you’re starving for. He’s reduced you to nothing but a licentious and needy beggar you don’t recognise. 

“How much longer can you last?” He knows, but it pleases him to ask anyway. 

“I’ll break if you touch me.”

“Perfect.” 

Wicked hands and fast reflexes rip your drenched underwear from you and Santiago mercilessly drills his cock straight into you. The second you feel him fill you up, one hand comes to encircle your neck, closing off your oxygen while his fingers find your clit once again and with just a few devious laps around your clit, you explode. A blinding light flashes behind your eyes and your body becomes engulfed by a white-hot pain that ironically, freezes you to the spot. Santiago growls loudly behind you, feeling how your pussy clenches so tightly around him that he’s barely spared an inch to move, but his fingers don’t face the same challenge and are still effortlessly ruining you to the core. There’s a pathetic attempt from you to remove his hand but his persistence remains far superior. 

Santiago relieves the pressure on your throat to hear you sing for him. You’re thankful the walls are thick enough to contain your cries. 

The thing is, Santiago knew you were close, but what he didn’t anticipate was how close he was too, especially so soon after you sucked him dry. With how intensely your pussy milks him of everything he has, it takes less than a few forceful thrusts before he succumbs to his orgasm and collapses on top of you. It washes over him hard, electrocuting every nerve and filling every pore with sweat. Fuck, he thinks, haven’t felt this good in years. 

Warmth envelopes you both, eyes fluttering to a close with the liberating feeling of release. Santiago, having just a little more sanity than you do, still has enough energy to lazily work his hips back and forth, fucking you so slowly and deeply, you think it might just trigger another explosion. Alas, he spares you the burden and finally comes to rest against you. 

It feels like an eternity has passed by the time the heat dwindles and air returns to your lungs. During the quiet minutes that pass, euphoria eases into your muscles, massaging out the cramp and any discomfort of your desperate attempts to contain your orgasm. The soft, grounding kisses that Santiago leaves at the nape of your neck seem to have a similar effect and you hum contentedly. 

“I mean it, by the way,” Santiago mutters behind you, still brushing his lips against your skin. “You really could’ve gotten yourself killed today.” His fingers trace down your shoulder, gently running across the bandage that covers your shrapnel wounds to reinforce his point. 

You sigh. “I know.” 

You feel him leave you, alleviating his weight and dressing himself. “Look at me.” 

You’re just about able to turn yourself around, and with Santiago’s help, he dresses you too. Once decent, the very hands that ruined you come to clamp against your cheeks, far too delicate for what you had known them to be. “What you did today was out of line—” 

This again. “But Frankie--” 

“Frankie is a different story. His mission to infiltrate the barn and receive the controls meant that the chances of him dying was a lot higher than ours. And even though it’s a fucking bastard of a pill to swallow, it’s just one of those things that we all have to come to terms with. I went into this mission already prepared to accept the possibility of his death should anything go wrong. Yours I wasn’t willing to accept.” 

“But I didn’t die.” 

“You’re not getting it.” His words are spat through gritted teeth and something in you sinks at the disappointment. The only thing that seems to calm him down is the sensation of your forehead against his, proof that you are alive. “Frankie’s death would’ve hurt, yes, but like I said, I would’ve seen it coming. If you expect disappointment, you won’t get disappointed. But when you threw yourself into the firing line like that, you started playing a game of Russian Roulette. Neither of us knew whether you were going to live or die and I panicked. I was so scared, terrified even at the thought of losing you because I knew I would never be able to recover from it. Your death, your untimely, unprecedented death under my watch would’ve haunted me for the rest of my life. That’s the difference between you and Frankie. That’s the lesson you need to learn from this.” 

Your eyebrows crunch together, feeling stupid for not coming to the realisation sooner. You feel embarrassed to admit that you had never thought of it like that. 

A long silence fills the room because you’re not too sure how to put the feeling of heavy regret into words, none of them justifiable enough to convey even a hint of the remorse that you feel inside. The fact that you refuse to look Santiago in the eyes is proof enough to him that you’re aware of the mistake you made, and instead of looking for a response, he settles for your silence and simply brushes his thumb across the highs of your cheek.

“Just promise me you won’t do it again, no matter how immoral it seems, no matter whose life is at stake, please, if at all possible, keep yourself safe.” 

“I promise.” 

He brings his lips to yours, melting them together in a kiss as though it is his last. “Good,” he smiles lightly, sealing the lesson with a kiss to your forehead. “I…I might’ve gotten carried away trying to get that message to sink in.” 

For the first time in a while, you smile. “It’s okay. I’ve definitely learned my lesson not to piss you off.” 

“Hmm, keep your promise and stay alive long enough and you’ll find out what the reward is.” 

[baeshijima]

mmm thoughts of private executioner!blade, who is high priestess!kafka's bodyguard. well, more like her guard dog, as many fearfully seem to think.

he is aloof and gruff and rough around the edges, his name capturing it perfectly. when in the eyes of the public he either keeps to himself or stands ready by kafka's side, but when out he lurks in the shadows ready and waiting to carry out her death orders.

you, yourself, haven't had very many pleasant encounters with him... if you can even call them that. that being said, you haven't had many pleasant encounters with anyone. notorious for your... less than pleasant disposition, for a lack of better words, you have more people who'd rather see you run through than those you can call a friend.

in a dog-eat-dog world, you had no choice but to protect yourself. that, however, ultimately became your demise.

"oh? so you're the one sent to kill me. can't say i'm all that surprised."

standing before you is the feared executioner. his sword is tucked inside the sheath attached to his hip, that ever-present dark swirl of an aura stifling the air. he doesn't say anything, instead opting to silently stare down at your slumped and worn-out form. you find that his gaze doesn't bother you; rather, it's oddly comforting knowing someone will see you in your last moments.

"i've never asked you for a favour before, so this will be my first and last request for you." in all honesty, you're not sure where this chattiness stems from. considering you're currently in a holding cell under the crime of attempted murder towards kafka (a poisoned wine you were most definitely framed for, though you can't say you were surprised) and are awaiting for your turn to be under the guillotine for your public execution, you probably should be a little desperate towards the private executioner in front of you.

and yet, your mind is nothing if not peaceful.

with a huff, you relay your request, "can you make sure it's quick? painless, preferably, but i'd rather you just get it over and done with."

silence blankets the cold chambers. moisture accumulated along the cobble ceiling drip in a steady rhythm, like a clock ticking away the seconds. it's unnerving, almost, how there is not a single sound other than your impending countdown.

"why?" comes his low mutter, effectively causing a ripple within the stagnant air. you almost think you misheard him, but his following words cease the thought, "why won't you ask me for help?"

had it not been for the abrupt shuffle and clanging against the metal bars, you would have never looked up to see him in your last moments.

his scarred hands gripping the metal until his knuckles turn a ghastly white and blood dripping from his palms is what greets your sight. as your gaze slowly trails up, you almost let loose a laugh of disbelief; who would have thought blade, the infamous guard dog of the high priestess, could make such a desperate expression? one looking as though his whole world crumbled before him, in which he can do nothing but sit and watch.

(you will never know of the anger and desperation which coursed through his veins the moment he heard of your predicament. had it been anyone else, he wouldn't have cared. but you're not anyone else; you're you — unapologetically, wholeheartedly. it didn't take him long to hunt down those behind it, cutting them down without thought and putting an end to their miserable lives. he rushed as soon as he could when kafka gave him the order, no thoughts other than you, you, you, occupying his mind.

you will never know of the anguish which overcame him when he found you in such a state, your once healthy complexion and defiant gaze reduced to nothing but a tiredness which had always sat quietly behind your disposition. he's almost positive the muscle which unwillingly keeps him alive tore at the seams from your request, the acceptance in which you displayed causing his mind to go astray. even as he damn-near begs you to rely on him for help — to run away with him to some place no one knows of you and start anew there — you merely smile, resigned and peaceful.

you will never know of how much blade is willing to put on the line for you, for you never made it to see the complete and utter carnage he wrecked in your name.)

[mxstellatayte]

Carlos and quote 13

nsfw under the cut <3 minors can lurk but please do not interact!

you really shouldn't be doing this.

you really shouldn't be at his house again, moaning his name as he fucks into you better than anyone could ever fuck you, making sure your hips are bruised and your body is sore the next day.

yet here you are.

"oh, fuck, carlos, please!"

"what is it? what do you want from me?" his left hand holds both of yours above your head, both wrists contained with his own large palm, and his right kneads at your breasts while his hips fuck into you ruthlessly. "or are you too dumb from my cock to know?"

"need to cum," you nearly sob, the pleasure and pain making tears form in the corners of your eyes.

"so do it," carlos replies, his hand leaving your breast and immediately finding your clit, rubbing the tight circles he knows gets you off almost immediately. within seconds, you cum with a cry of his name, your shoulders burning as they fight to pull your arms from his grasp. when he mercifully releases your wrists, your hands immediately fly to grip at his broad shoulders to ground yourself through your orgasm. the sound of you moaning his name and spasming around him sends carlos into his own orgasm, and you fall limp at the feeling of his cum warming you from the inside.

eventually, carlos pulls out of you as gently as he can, and you gasp at the overstimulation and the feeling of both of your fluids seeping out of you before he gently presses them back in with two fingers. "i'll be right back, okay? i'm gonna go get a towel to get you cleaned up." your heart stirs once more at the immediate change of demeanor, the harsh and almost ruthless attitude giving way to a much more gentle and caring side of him. when he comes back, warm washcloth in hand, carlos can't help but smile at your closed eyes and blissed-out expression, knowing that he's the only one who can fuck you this thoroughly. you don't startle when he gently wipes at your inner thighs and does his best to clean you of any sweat, folding the washcloth so that only a fresh part touches your skin. after throwing the washcloth into his hamper, he settles into the sheets with you, eyes widening when you lift yourself on top of him and begin gently rubbing yourself on his strong thighs.

"still?" you hum quietly in false confusion, holding his forearms tight in your grip. "you're still needy? oh, cariño, i just fucked you."

"i haven't seen you in a month," you quip without halting your movements. "it's not my fault you can fuck me better than anyone ever has and ever will."

"so you admit it."

"just shut up and fuck me already."

little author's note on this one! i really enjoyed writing this blurb, so if you guys want to see more of this dynamic and maybe how their relationship came to be, let me know! my asks are always open <3

[homelanderbutbig]

No Strings Attached (G/T Homelander x Reader)

1389 words. Pure fluff. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.

You give Homelander a back massage. Inspired by a post from @slasher-smasher.

It's taken a lot of trust to get to this point. One thing you've come to learn from Homelander is that he hates to take off his suit. When he's wearing it, there is a barrier protecting from the outside world. He's wrapped up in his security blanket, he's safe from harm and his own weaknesses. To be exposed… that's his kryptonite.

With his inhumanly tall height, he naturally gives off the air of superiority against everyone around him without ever really having to do anything. All he ever has to do to provoke fear is stand in front of someone, displaying both his towering presence and the dominance of his powers that lurk just beneath the surface.

While he always seems to go out of his way to refuse your inquiries about his suit, you also know he's already given you more access to himself that he has anyone else before. He willingly removes his gloves to hold hands with you, enamoured by the feelings of your tiny fingers running along the expanse of his palms. He loves to rest his head on your lap, allowing you to caress his cheeks and every inch of his face. He even lets you scratch his scalp, using your nails to reduce him to his base instincts and leave him purring heartily into your chest. These moments to him are far more intimate than just plain old sex; he's giving you his vulnerabilities on a silver platter, the fear of allowing himself to be stripped of his power over the masses in even a minute way.

And as much as Homelander genuinely relaxes from these cuddle sessions, you want to do so much more for him. He is consistently on the brink of burning out from both the stress of his job and the expectations placed on him from the Vought higher-ups, never allowed a vacation or a brief reprieve. He is their cash cow after all, their puppet whose strings are forcibly manipulated to make him dance for their amusement.

Today is no different. You're in his penthouse when he comes storming in, pissed at what Ashley's informed him. He's dropped six points from a recent blunder, and now the PR team is insisting he give a public apology. Standing in front of the myriad of reporters clamouring for the perfect angle, cameras flashing brightly in his face, all while he has to suck up to them… the worthless mudpeople.

You can tell how worked up he's getting just from telling you all this, and all he wants right now is to bury his head in your lap to let his worries fade away. However, this time you have another idea… and you won't take no for an answer.

"Come with me sweetheart," you coax him, grabbing hold of one of his massive hands to lead him into his bedroom. He follows with no resistance, yet he can't hide the confusion about this deviation of your normal routine. You know what he wants right now, what exactly are you planning? Once in his bedroom you hop up onto the mattress and he sits next to you, though his hands are nervously clenched on his lap.

"Please take off your top and lie down for me?" you ask, smiling at the near-instant look of fear overtaking his face the second he hears those words escape from your lips. "You can trust me big boy," you reassure him, giving him a gentle pat on his thigh.

Gradually you encourage him to unfurl his fists so you can help him remove his gloves. His wide eyes are glued on your every move as you carefully slide them off his hands and place them off to the side. You then maneuver around to his back to unhook his cape off of his eagle pauldrons, folding it neatly as you know he likes. And then comes the most daunting task.

"D-don't… d-d-don't look," he stammers quietly, incredibly anxious while waiting for you to shield your sight before he begins removing his suit. His movements are on autopilot while he tries his best to swallow his building nerves, dropping his top heavily on the sheets. He can't believe he's actually doing this, the one thing he's been terrified of since dating you. Showing you what he hides beneath his suit… the real Homelander.

You don't look until he's lying faced down into his bed, face partially buried into his pillow with only one of his distressed eyes showing. And even then he refuses to gaze over at you, so utterly consumed by the angst strangling his brain.

Kneeling in front of him, you reach out your hands to place them on his back. His eyes instantly shut tight as he takes in a sharp breath, waiting for you to touch him. It's a response that happens involuntarily, one that had been beaten into him from his childhood in the lab. Anytime the scientists laid their hands on him, it was never out of love. It was solely for experimentation. To poke, prod, stab, slice, inject, burn… 

And while they believed he was unable to truly perceive pain like humans do with his superhuman abilities… he felt it all. He always did.

But this time, your hands are different.

His eyes slowly open to glance over at you as your hands begin massaging his upper back. You lack the strength to properly relieve any tension in his muscles, but he can feel every ounce of your effort all the same. You are so gentle with him, every touch bursting with the love and care you have for him. There's something so therapeutic about the nature of your affection, how you bathe him in tenderness without any expectations in return. You aren't like Madelyn, not like Stormfront… not like anyone he's had strong emotions for before. You just… love him, no strings attached.

The tension he felt from his meeting with Ashley quickly melts away the longer you work your hands along his back, molding him into a malleable putty. Just like when you scratch his scalp, the sensations of your passionate fingers leave him at your mercy. He's powerless to fight the content little noises escaping from his mouth, practically purring in time with your massage. You can discern his deep voice vibrating through his body as you knead his back, each time he breathes removing just that much more stress from his weary mind.

"That feel good?" you question, still rubbing circles along his shoulder blades.

"Mmhmmph…" he eventually manages to hum, his placid voice muffled into the pillow. His eyes have started to flutter closed again, unable to fight the sleepiness creeping over him.

"Uh huh," you chuckle, pleased to see your devilish plan has worked. There's nothing that makes you more happy than to see him happy too.

You reposition yourself to lie directly on top of him, his wide back providing plenty of room for you to sprawl across comfortably. And while your weight is nothing to him, his hypersensitive senses leave him extremely aware of the warmth of your body on his bare skin. He's surprised at how much he likes that feeling too, how intimate it is knowing you're so close with him. Without the barrier of his suit, everything with you seems to be so much more special. And he adores it.

Scooting up to his shoulders, you wrap your arms around his neck and snuggle your head up against the side of his face. When he brings his arm up to offer you his hand to hold, you keep one on his shoulder while grasping his long fingers with the other. He delicately caresses your wrist with his large thumb as you return the favour along the back of his hand.

Everything about this moment is pure heaven; he feels you everywhere and he can't think of anywhere else he'd rather be.

"I love you Homelander," you whisper, kissing his temple before nuzzling back into his cheek. He gives you one last sleepy smile before he finally gives into his fatigue. He never really gets to take breaks like this, when Vought is constantly breathing down his neck. You know he deserves an uninterrupted nap right now.

And maybe in the future, he can trust you do this again.

[blackkatmagic]

Fay fic??? 👀

There's a shadow waiting for her when Fay leaves the building, lurking beneath the heavy overhang where a valet would normally be. Expected, usually welcome, but in these specific circumstances Fay halts her steps on the ornate stone, tips her chin up with something that might be defiance.

“Hello, Master Antilles,” she says evenly.

Jon looks at her for a long, long moment, half-hidden beneath the heavy drape of his cloak. Then, precise, he inclines his head and says, raspy like he hasn’t spoken in a while, “Master Fay. Should I see to the body?”

“The man,” Fay corrects without mercy, for herself or for the man she just walked away from. She left a man behind her. Hopefully a man who will make better choices this time. He’ll at least make different ones. She made sure of that.

Jon inclines his head, accepting that. He doesn’t say anything, still waiting for the answer, and Fay breathes out, closes her eyes for a moment.

She didn’t want to get involved in any of this. She didn’t want to come back to Coruscant, or set foot in the Core again as long as she lived. She doesn’t even want to live, particularly. It’s been so long, and now—

Now the Force is as loud and disturbed as it’s ever been, and if there was a chance for her to lay down her duty and rest before this, it’s vanished into the ether along with the peace of the galaxy.

“Please,” she finally says, precise. Jon is deeply embedded in all the shadows of the Republic, with contacts everywhere. If anyone can hide a person, it’s him. “Make sure he won't be found, and that he has the resources to start a good life. Somewhere peaceful, preferably.”

Jon nods, just once. “Do you want to know where?” he asks quietly.

“I don’t particularly care,” Fay says. It’s not her business now. She gave the man a chance to be someone new, someone better. Someone without the blood of children on his hands.

Anakin Skywalker is no more. What the man who used to be him does now is none of her concern unless he starts killing innocents again.

[hxjikonn]

Congratulations for your milestone!!!!

Can i perhaps request twst platonic comfort long fic with the staff with Lilia separately perhaps saying like “i’m proud of you” and pat reader’s head please? Reader gender is GN and preferably uses with ‘you’ instead of pronouns please if its possible—

of course no pressure for this request— i just need a comfort becus daddy issues lmao but sam is more like big brother vibes

A/N: Thank you anon! I’m gonna cry this is actually so frikkin cute 🥹, I’ll do my best take on this one and I hope you like it. I do have a limit of 3-4 caharcters only so I’ll do Lilia, Crowley, Trein and Crewel ♥︎ also p.s sorry this took so long 😭🤚🏻

——————————————————————————

Peer Pressure

☆Staring☆: Lilia Vanrouge, Dire Crowley, Mozus Trein, and Divus Crewel.

Synopsis: Twst Dads Staff and Lilia, being the father figure you never had. Yes! I’m talking to boys, girls, gays and non-binary baes who has daddy issues 🥹

Heads up/Warnings: Mentions of Stress, Lil small smidge of angst, VERY LONG AND NOT PROOFREAD Platonic! rs with reader.

——————————————————————————

Lilia Vanrouge

Studying in NRC was no cake walk, that’s a given fact, and more so when you’re a magicless nomad from who knows where, as much as you’d love to just blend in with the crowd and not be noticed, you stuck out like a sore thumb.

You were treated as a weak poor unfortunate soul who fate has thrown to the wolf den to be eaten alive without a fight, You didn’t like how they perceived you, you didn’t like how you were treated as a push over who couldn’t stand a chance in this school. So you made yourself keep with everyone else despite not having a speck of magic in you.

You really are doing everything you can to be treated as an equal by everyone, but even when you’re giving it your all, it’s never enough for them to respect you, no matter how many overblots you face and how many dorm leaders and students you help, you will always amount to nothing in their eyes.

Still you tried, tried to keep your chin up, but you’re only human, and you can only take so much. You were sat in the deepest part of the school library, the ancient history section, where dust had collected on the bookshelves having been left unnoticed for so long, not a single beam of light could peek through the thick books that rested on the high shelves. No one bothered to go here, It was silent, this became the place you’d go to when you feel that you’re about to break.

Slowly, the dark and tiny enclosed space was filled with your quiet sobs and sniffles, shaky breaths and gasps were heard coming from your tiny curled up figure in the corner…you couldn’t handle it anymore, it was heavy, it hurts, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell anyone because you felt like it’d fuel the idea of you being weak and in need of help…

Unbeknownst to you, someone other than yourself lurked in that corner of the library, and that someone had heard your soft weeping, slowly and carefully he approached your tiny figure, you were sobbing on your knees desperately trying to hold yourself together, you were too caught up on keeping quiet that you hadn’t notice Lilia sitting beside you.

“You know…it’s normal for children to cry right?” He said, loudly enough for you to hear but quietly too since he didn’t want to freak you out. You slowly met his gaze, with swollen eyes glistening with tears, you sniffled and wiped your cheek with your sleeve “I’m not a child….” You retorted, voice hoarse and weak.

“Oh but your not an adult either?” He said ruffling your hair, you didn’t like this, it felt like he also saw you like everyone else in this school, puny. You brushed off his hand, you sighed…upset, you buried your head back in your knees “I really don’t feel well right now Lilia-senpai…I wanna be left alone” You mumbled, not another word was uttered after you said that, you thought he left, so you resumed to your pitiful state of feeling sorry for yourself.

It wasn’t until you felt soft pats on your head that you settled down a bit, “When Silver wasn’t feeling well when he was little, I’d always stay by his side until he’s better…children can’t be left alone when they dont feel well, or else they wont get better” he softly spoke to you, you could only answer with sniffles and hiccups.

“M’not a child…” you answered, still hiccuping trying to catch your breath from crying to much, “If you’d known how old I am, you’d probably see yourself as a fetus…” he joked, “I’ll never be equal to you guys will I?? I’ll always be the weakest one here…no matter what I do” you voiced out, you didn’t even know if you were shaking from anger or sadness…

Lilia felt it though, your emotions, he sighed and draped his school overcoat on your shaking frame, and continued to place soft pats on your head to calm you down again, “That was quiet offensive, you don’t even know how I think of you and yet you assume that…” he scolded, “You call me a child…” you snapped back at him

“That’s because you are one and yet you act like you should be the one running NRC, I need you to understand that I’m not calling you a child because I see you as a feeble human being, I call you that to remind you that you’re still young…it’s too early for you be stressed out, that’s a middle age man’s job” He scolded you holding both your face with in his hands, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“You’ve already done so much…I’m proud of you for keeping up with everyone in NRC despite you not possessing magic, it’s amazing, even Malleus thinks so…” he added, you felt yourself calm down, more so when he pulled you into a hug, you felt safe.

“Now rest, we cant have you exiting the library with puffy eyes, people would think they were stung by bees!” He jested, chuckling at himself. “I’ll wake you up when I feel that you’ve had enough sleep…” he patted your head and hummed a tune, tired from crying, you eventually gave in and let his hums woo you to sleep.

Dire Crowley

Once again, you were called to Crowley’s office, not because you caused trouble no, you barely had the time in your day to do that. It was because somehow he probably has yet another taxing job to give you, that or he’s gonna scold you for something, what is it? Who knows? Sometimes it’s the most random things.

You knocked and waited waited for him to say you could come in…when he did, you walked in groggily, and shut the door behind you with your foot, you didn’t bother with politeness and courtesies, you were too exhausted for that, plus you knew he probably got used you’re attitude by now as you were used to his.

“What nowwwww???” You groaned, flopping on the chair infront of him. “Would it kill you to have some manners prefect?” He scolded, “Cut me some slack I’m tireeedddd” you whined in your hands. “Well I hope you being tired means you’ve done everything I told you to do, and I called you here to ask you if you’ve visited Savanaclaw-“ “to solve their flea infestation problem? Yeah It’s done. Savanaclaw is flea-free.” You cut him off, your voice monotoned and unenthusiastic.

He was surprised, “Well then, I assume you’ve also finished re-planted the flowers of wonderland in the botanical garden.” “YUP” you quickly answered. “What about the concerns of Pomfoire students about their stollen chemicals?” He crossed his arms “It wasn’t stollen, They misplaced it somewhere.” You answered again.

“Mandatory Dormitory maintenance check ups? Have you organized the School calendar events? Did you solve the Octavinelle and Scarabia feud? ” He started throwing the tasks he gave you. “Done. Done. And hmmm let me see…yup all done.” you replied as you picked on your nails. Crowley was shocked you managed to finish everything in a day, at this point he started to doubt you didn’t have magic.

“Have you….uhm….” He tried thinking of a task he hasn’t asked you about, “have you…done your homework?” He had nothing. You looked up at him with a confused look, but still answered “Yeah?” He cleared his throat and readjusts his tie “Hm…Well done then, you did well” he said.

“Can I go now? I haven’t eaten all day and Grim’s probably throwing tantrums because he hasn’t had his tuna sandwich…” you asked, he only nodded. Still kind of shock that you did every task he sent you to do. “Uh…’kay, bye I guess…” you stood up to leave, weirded out by the headmage’s sudden silence.

He only came back to his senses when he heard the door shut, and realized you’d left…you left to go home and eat cuz you haven’t eaten all day, yeah…wait… “HAVEN’T EATEN??!! ALL DAY??!” He shouted, shooting up from his chair to go chase you. His automatic Papa bird mode was up and running…literally. You thought you were safe from a scolding session, well you were wrong.

“PREFECT! Y/N! STOP RIGHT THERE!” He commanded, far across the other end of the hallway. You stopped, hearing his voice, you sighed and turned your back to see him speed walking his way over to you. “Here we go…” you said to yourself, preparing for the scolding, you didn’t know what it was about but you were preparing still.

Before you knew it he was standing infront of you, hands on his hips like a disappointed mother. “What did I miss this time?” You asked, “Apparently Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner” he answered. You blinked a couple of times, confused and dumbfounded. “Huh?” Was all that came put of your mouth.

“I can’t believe you! How could you not eat for a whole day?! Are you mad?! Have you gone koo-koo over the tasks I gave you?! You could get sick!” He scolded, you thought he was joking, so you laughed “Oh I get it…Don’t worry I won’t die, you won’t lose your errand runner” you joked. Wrong move.

The expression on his face was something you hadn’t seen before, usually you’re not at all fazed by Crowley, however this time you felt your stomach drop, but not to fear, it was something else. “Errand Runner….? Is that why you forgot to eat?…Is that how I make you feel…?” He spoke, uncharacteristically sad…

“Uh n-no, I was…I was just joking…” you denied smiling up at him, though you did feel like an errand runner most of the time, it was clear that Crowley didn’t know you felt that way. Silence was all that was heard between you two. Crowley was only looking at you, “Uhm…I should…go” you spoke, breaking the noiseless awkward situation.

You bowed and turned to your heel and left. For the rest of the night, all that filled Crowley’s mind was worry…You went to school the next morning, the happenings from yesterday was now long gone and done for you, it was weird and awkward sure, but you didn’t think it was that deep.

However it wasn’t for Crowley. As you were listening to Trein’s lecture, Crowley decided to pop in your class. “Is Y/n present?” He asked, poking his head through the door, “Y/n, The headmage is looking for you.” Trein spoke, unbothered, still writing on the board.

You looked up from your notebook to see Crowley by the door, this was unusual, since he only called for you when you dong have class. But you thought it must’ve been urgent. So you stood up and went to him. “Something wrong?” You asked, he smiled and shook his head, “Oh no, I just came by to give you this.” He handed you a lunch box, you looked up at him confused “wha-“ you were cut off with a headpat “Go back to your seat now, make sure to finish all that food, after class though, dont eat in class.” He said pushing you back so you’d go to your seat. “Sharing is good but Dont share that. You eat it.” He warned before waving you goodbye as he closes the door and leaves.

You were now left with a lunch box in your hand, you looked down and there was a sticky note on top of it that read “Do your best in class! I’m proud of you!” With a crow doodle on the bottom…you smiled at the note and went back to your seat. Guess you wont be missing meals anymore.

Mozus Trein

Exam week. Probably the worst week in a student’s entire school year. Most even called it Hell week due to how dreadful and stressful it is. What’s worse is that you’ve been transported in a school that is in a world where you knew absolutely nothing about.

So everything you’ve learned from your homeworld, is USELESS here. Especially history. Back in home exams about history usually only contained questions about previous presidents, wars, kingdoms, ruler, and dates but here their history included magic. Which you don’t have and have Zero to No knowledge of.

You’ve concluded in your mind that you’d probably be butchered and served for lunch after you take this test because there’s no way you’re going to pass it. But what’s the harm in trying? Right? You spent hours and hours after every test everyday before the history exam in the library. Under a piles and stacks of books about twisted wonderland’s history. You felt yourself get lightheaded a couple of times but you shook it off.

Then came doomsday. You were sat in your usual seat, sweating bullets, leg bouncing from anxiety, the test wasn’t even handed out yet but your lips were practically chewing gum at this point since you’ve been gnawing on them for the past 5 minutes.

When the test was handed out, you tried your best not to accidentally have a mental shut down and forget everything you’ve studied for. You were already nervous from the questions, more so when Trein started walking around and observing everyone as they take their test.

Out of everyone, you had to admit, Mozus Trein, was the most intimidating teacher you had. Failing his class was an equivalent to a coffin and funeral party. So you tried your best to keep calm and focus on the questions. You didn’t rush it like some of the others, it didn’t matter if you were the last one in his class as long as your confident you’d pass.

You skimmed through every question time after time making sure you had the best answer. “Y/n. I said Time’s up. Hand in your paper or I won’t accept it.” Trein’s voice broke your trance, and there it was again, the anxiety, you weren’t done, you weren’t confident that you’d get a passing grade yet. But him staring you down made you hand give up the paper faster than lightning.

“Sorry, sir.” You meekly spoke. He took your paper and shortly after he dismissed the class. You couldn’t even sleep that night, and the night after, and the next night after that. It was that big of a deal. Came the end of Hell week Exam week it was time for the teachers to hand back the now graded test papers.

And lucky you, Your first class of the day was Trein’s. You went in with bags under your eyes from all the sleepless nights and the countless hours studying in the library. You hoped for the worst, that way you wont be disappointed when it does happen. Once the classroom was filled, Trein greeted you all like usual, “I’m sure everyone is well aware of what day it is, and I’m neither disappointed nor surprised by the result of last week’s exam, as I expected this already. Needles to say I’ll be seeing MOST of you again in the same class next year.” He stated, mercilessly, It was like venom. He went around the class handing the test papers one by one.

You gulped hearing what he just said as you waited for him to hand you yours, part of you told yourself you’re one of those people. What’s worse is that, he only placed the other students their paper on their table and left, so why is he HANDING you yours???You gulped as you took the paper from his hand, the test paper was faced down. Still standing there even though you had already took it. You thought of your funeral party already.

You flipped the paper with shaky hands…you couldn’t believe your eyes…it was a perfect score…you looked up at your teacher in shock “I think you mixed up my paper with someone else’s sir…” you said, only earning a small laugh from him. He placed his index finger on top of your test paper “that is your name? Is it not?” He asked, it infact YOUR NAME.

You left your jaw hung open as you stared at the paper infornt of you, your shocked state was broken when he pated your head “Very good Y/n, Surprisingly the one who isn’t from twisted wonderland is the one who scored the highest in my class, I’m very proud of you for that. Keep it up” he praised as he walks back to his desk.

You felt yourself smiling happily. You passed. YOU SCORED HIGHEST. You looked up at Trein who was now infront of the class writing in the board about the next lecture he was about to discuss and you hurriedly took out your notebook to write down notes. Soon the class you oh so feared to fail now became your favorite class to attend.

Divus Crewel

You had no magic, no knowledge of it, and you don’t even know how to use it. Magic was already a hassle to learn, and you already progressed slower than most of the students in your class. Not in potionology though. This was wayyy easier to catch up with.

You see potionology class like what you used to do as a child, when you’d mix shampoos and soaps and tooth paste and pretend to be a witch in the bathroom. You liked this class since it was fun and you didn’t struggle that much with it. You cant say you’re that best student, that would be exaggeration. But you were one of the students who does better than everyone else.

Up coming this week was pop quiz Friday, usual pop quizzes included answering a sheet of paper, however in potionology, Crewel thought it’d be nice to put the pop in “pop quiz” to good use. The task was that you’d try to perfect a potion that pops when you threw it, the bigger the “pop” your potion made, the higher your score would be.

So ahead of time, you started doing research and tests on your potion, you sometimes went to Pomefoire or Heartslabyul to ask Rook or Trey for advice since they’re both in the school Science Club. You’d go to the library to borrow books about explosives, you’d go shopping for a concerning amount of flammable chemicals and other stuff in Sam’s shop. To the point where Sam actually made a promise to himself to call Crowley if you came back again.

After all that you’d go back to Ramshackle to test more stuff out. It took a lot of sleepless nights and failed attempts, you didn’t give up though, plus you and grim (and sometimes even Malleus) were having fun in the back yard of Ramshackle blowing stuff up. If you had neighbors they probably would’ve moved out by now

One day you finally had one you were confident had a passing grade. Probably not the best one out there but one that can get you a high score.You wrote down the recipe so you could remake it in the lab when Friday came, you’re more than excited to see this experiment of your blow their minds, not literally but kinda literally.

Then came Friday, the day you’ve been waiting for. You were nervous, happy and the anticipation was killing you. When greetings were exchanged the “pop quiz” began. Everyone was focused on their own potions, and so were you. Holding in your hand was the recipe and your other was carefully dripping and dropping chemicals on to beakers and test tubesz

You didn’t want the whole room to blow up…yet. As you hear some students groan out of frustration or sigh in relief, you grew more and more competitive. When the timer rang, you were already finished, everyone had their bottles clutched in their hands in fear of them accidentally dropping it and causing mass destruction.

“Alright pups, line up, we cant risk causing accidental arson, we’re going out on the field to test your potions.” Crewel said to the class, one by one your classmates start to line up. Careful not to trip as the walked. When you were all outside, and in a safe distance from the school building, Crewel had you all stand behind a magic barrier so no one would get hurt.

One by one students started to throw their potions, explosion after explosion, some disappointingly small and some scarily big. You were thrilled, you couldn’t wait for your turn. When your name got called you confidently strode infront to throw your potion. As you were about to Crewel lightly smacked your head with his teaching pointer. “Goggles Y/n, your goggles.” He warned. You muttered a tiny ‘oops’ and put on your goggles.

“Alright, on my count…” Crewel said, as he counted down to 3, when you heard three you threw it hard as you could and….nothing. You were shocked…embarrassed as you heard the chuckles and laughs from behind you. You were positive you tested this before and it worked, you must’ve done something wrong. How could you fail the one class you actually enjoyed.

Your cheeks grew hot when you heard small teasings from your classmates, Crewel reprimanded them but you knew even he was embarrassed and disappointed by this miserable failed attempt. You had failed him. As you were all about to walk back to the lab, small sparking noises were heard from where you had thrown the potion.

You all looked back and so did Crewel, he put up the magic barrier once again, the small sparks turned into big once, then…unexpectedly, the big sparks exploded scattering itself throughout the field…then there was silence. Not like the last time though, the silence this time was more like the calm before a storm. Crewel knew this, so he had the magic barrier expanded to cover all around you guys.

Suddenly explosions emerged, not just one, but multiple, more than you could count, it was loud and destructive and chaotic, everyone was panicking. When it finally stopped, the school grounds looked like a battle field. You thought this meant detention until you graduate, but then you heard Crewel laugh and clap his hands.

He went to you and ruffled you hair “GREAT JOB Y/N! THAT WAS OUTSTANDING!” He praised as he clasps his hands together. The other students…well most of them at least also had clapped their hands and applauded your work. No words was said but it seemed that Crewel had already adopted and favored a pup in his class after that day.

——————————————————————————

A/N: I’M BAAAACKKKK WRITERS BLOCK IS GONEEEE I’M GONNA START POSTING AGAIN AAAAAA SORRY FOR MAKING YOU GUYS WAIT SO LONG 🥹🥹🥹🥹

[cece693]

you wrote about the mad hatter so well... i don't want to overwhelm you, obviously, but i would love a 2nd part!! and maybe in the future you can write some smut scenario with him? 😶‍🌫️

You're Not Crazy Pt. 2 (The Mad Hatter x M! Reader)

Here's the second part :) I'm iffy on writing smut for the Hatter since he's so childlike and I think he wouldn't go that far with someone, he probably finds kissing pleasurable enough, but who knows. I'll probably end up doing it 🤷‍♀️

tags: angst, happy ending, the reader tries to say goodbye, mentions of Alice, the reader is an idiot, but redeems himself

The Hatter's words stung, but you couldn't stay with him. You didn’t belong to Wonderland, as much as you envisioned yourself adapting to the world. You didn’t share its whimsical madness, its strange logic that defied all reason. You loved its colors, its characters—especially him—but deep down, you felt like an outsider playing pretend in a place that wasn’t truly yours.

So, you left.

Back in the real world, everything felt strangely muted. The once-familiar streets seemed dull and lifeless, lacking the vibrancy of Wonderland. Your sister Alice noticed your somber mood almost immediately. She’d seen you come back looking tired or perplexed before, but never like this. It was as if the life was sucked out of you; You weren’t yourself. She knew something big must've happened to put you in such a state.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the room, Alice found you sitting by the window, staring off into the distance. She approached quietly, her voice soft. “You’ve been awfully quiet since you got back. What happened in Wonderland?"

You hesitated, the words sat heavily on your tongue, reluctant to be spoken. How could you even begin to describe what had transpired in Wonderland? The way the air had seemed to still when the Hatter looked at you with those wild eyes, the hurt lurking behind his laughter? But after a moment, you sighed and decided to open up, knowing Alice would pester you otherwise.

“The Hatter…he told me to leave. He said I should return home. So, I did.”

Alice watched you carefully, her brow furrowed with concern. “But why would he say that?” she asked softly. She knew the Hatter was eccentric and unpredictable, but she had seen how he looked at you, how his eyes lit up whenever you were near.

You shook your head, frustration mixing with the ache in your chest. “I don’t know.” you admitted, though it wasn’t entirely true. “I think…I think he was afraid. Afraid I’d leave on my own someday, find something more important than him.” Your voice wavered, and you clenched your fists to steady yourself. “He wanted to push me away before I could do it to him.”

Alice remained silent for a moment, her expression softening as she pieced together what you weren’t saying. “So, you just left because he told you to?” she asked, not accusingly but with a kind of gentle reproach. “Without telling him how you felt?”

You looked down, guilt settling like a stone in your stomach. “I thought it was what he wanted.” you murmured. “I didn’t want to hurt him more by staying. But leaving…it felt wrong, too. It still does.”

Alice reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You men and your pride,” she said with a soft chuckle. “You’re both acting like fools. You know that, right?”

“What do you mean?”

She smiled, patient and knowing. “I mean that sometimes, people say things they don’t mean because they’re scared of being hurt. The Hatter’s a complicated man, but he’s not so different from anyone else in that way. You need to go back and talk to him. Really talk to him. Otherwise, you’ll never know what could’ve been.”

Her words struck a chord deep within you, resonating with the doubts and hopes that had been churning inside you since you left. She was right—you couldn’t leave things like this, with both of you hiding behind unspoken fears. You had to face it, face him, and figure out what you truly wanted.

Returning to Wonderland was like stepping back into a dream, one that you’d missed desperately in your time away. The colors were brighter, the sounds sharper, yet everything felt strangely muted by the tension in your chest. As you made your way back to the tea party clearing, you could feel your heart pounding harder with every step, a mix of anxiety and anticipation.

When you arrived, you found the Hatter sitting at his usual spot at the head of the long, cluttered table. He was hunched over, a hat perched lopsided on his head, his fingers busy stitching a ribbon that looked like it was fraying at the ends. His back was to you, but the moment he heard your footsteps crunching on the gravel, he stiffened ever so slightly.

“I didn’t expect you back so soon,” he said, his tone light and airy, but you could hear the strain in it—like a string pulled too tight. “Come to say a proper goodbye?”

You took a deep breath, stepping closer, feeling the weight of the conversation pressing down on your shoulders. “Yes, but I want to do it right. I don't want to leave with things unresolved between us."

The Hatter turned to face you slowly, his usual mad grin stretching across his face, but it was different this time. His eyes, usually bright and wild, were shadowed, clouded with something you couldn’t quite place. “Well then,” he said, forcing a laugh that sounded more like a broken sigh, “goodbye it is! Off you go, then! Don’t let the rabbit hole hit you on the way out!”

Without thinking, you reached out and pulled him into a hug. His body went rigid at first, as if he didn’t know how to react. You could feel his rapid breaths against your chest, hear the hitch in his throat as he struggled to keep up the façade. Then, slowly, he softened, his arms coming up to clutch at your back, holding you as if you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground.

“Why are you doing this?” he whispered, his voice cracking, caught somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “Why are you making this so hard?”

“Because I don’t want to leave you,” you confessed, your voice thick with emotion. “But I don’t know how to stay when I feel like I don’t belong here.”

The Hatter pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “You do belong. To me, you do.”

His words pierced through you, breaking down the last of your defenses. You thought you had made up your mind to leave, to return to the real world where everything made sense, where things followed rules. But in that moment, nothing made sense without him.

You stepped back, letting go of him even though it hurt. “Goodbye, Hatter.” you said softly, turning away. “I’ll miss you.”

As you started up the path that would take you back home, every step felt like dragging a weight behind you. You reached the midway point, the fork in the path where one route would lead you back to reality. You paused, your heart aching with each second that passed. You glanced back, your breath catching in your throat when you saw him still standing there, watching you leave with a look of pure devastation.

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t leave him like this.

Turning on your heel, you sprinted back down the path, the wind whipping against your face as you ran. You didn’t stop until you were right in front of him again. His eyes widened in shock, his lips parting to ask something, but you didn’t give him the chance. You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him, pouring all the emotion you’d been holding back into that kiss—your fear, your love, your need to stay.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, he stared at you, his eyes wide and searching. “You…you came back?”

“I did,” you said, smiling through the tears in your eyes. “If you’ll have me. I’m not going anywhere.”

For a moment, he looked as if he didn’t believe you, his gaze darting over your face as if trying to find some hint of doubt or hesitation. But then his lips slowly curved into a smile—a real, genuine smile that lit up his entire face. “Oh, yes. Yes, indeed! And we shall have tea every day, and perhaps cake, and perhaps something more delightful!”

You laughed, a lightness settling over you that you hadn’t felt in days. “Sounds like a plan.”

[child0feden]

RAINY DAYS

- just sharing a little thought i had whilst it rained today!

pelle would probably really like the rain, he does not so much like being in the rain because i think he would get slightly irritated at the feeling of his denim jeans sticking to his already cold and pale skin but inside the house? he likes it a whole lot

he likes cuddling up with you when it rains, big spooning you from the side so that his eyes can stare out of the one small window in your shared bedroom, his blue eyes reflecting the image of small water droplets rapidly hitting the glass and trickling down as his cold hands trace your hips, not helping much to warm you up but you do not say anything, you just let him rest and push your body further into his front, trying to create some body warmth which works well enough… occasionally his blue eyes will drift away from the window and down to your resting face, watching as your nose twitches lightly in your sleep or your soft lips part to breathe, admiring you in your most vulnerable and serene state, watching as the orange, fiery glow from a nearby pine scented candle lights up your face in the dark room…

rain often helps him fall asleep, helped even more by the feeling of your body pressed up against his, the sound of steady water drops hitting the roof and glass windows soothing his mind and clearing it almost entirely of the fog that lurks, his hand grabbing yours and holding it tightly as his tired eyes droop and he buries his pale face further into your neck from behind, his chin still resting just atop your shoulder as your warm fingers draw soft circles on the back of his cold hand

when it rains, pelle does not really like to do much except relax the best he know how and admire the cold, gloomy weather… to him, it is not gloomy or even depressing as it may be to some, pelle finds it to be so beyond relaxing and calming! it is one of the few things aside from you that helps soothe his mind, put his mind to rest for just a while…

pelle just likes to sit and watch the rain with you, listen to it as it falls from the pale sky as if it is natural music to his ears, the softest and most beautiful music he thinks he will ever hear and it inspires him, it inspires him to make art or write lyrics, doodling randomly at his desk as shadowy rain drops are reflected onto the paper through the window

and when the rain stops, pelle is the first one out of the house, looking at you blankly for a couple seconds before leaving without a jacket, as if silently telling you to follow him, which you do! though he does not do anything crazy outside, no, pelle just stands and breathes through his nose… tilting his head back ever so slightly, long blonde hair draped over his face as he inhales quietly, breathing in the fresh dewey air and the signature smell of rain… he might purposely walk through or even stand still in some murky water puddles, staring down at his rippled reflection before walking off to another one and doing the same, not caring in the slightest about the water now soaking through his shoes and dampening his cotton socks… you think it might be some kind of childlike wonder still in pelle, some kind of playfulness and curiosity very obviously still left inside the man that so many claim to be heartless and cold…

you will probably have to convince him to just put a damn jacket on as he walks around the front of the house, not wanting his weak immune system to fall victim to a nasty cold, he will probably comply if just to please you! and when you finally wrangle him inside, he certainly will not say no to you making him a nice hot drink, his tall and lanky stature standing in the kitchen and watching you as you make the drink for him, watching you with a gaze many would assume to be blank and uncaring but you can see more than that, anyone could see more than that if they really looked…

anyways, it just kind of came to me whilst it was raining today! still love sharing my random little thoughts and always remember, i welcome your thoughts into my ask box with open arms :)

[teddymoon06]

Desperate measures

Title: Desperate Measures

Y/N’s POV

The air inside the base was stifling. Every day seemed to drag on, the threat of monsters lurking outside and the tension among the survivors gnawing at my nerves. I knew Kang Seok-chan didn’t trust many people, least of all me, but in a world like this, trust was a luxury few could afford.

Seok-chan was always one of the strongest among us, not just physically but mentally. He kept his distance, rarely showing any emotions. But I had caught glimpses of him watching over the group, his eyes calculating, always planning.

Lately, though, the pressure had been mounting. Resources were running low, and arguments between the survivors were becoming more frequent. It was only a matter of time before something snapped.

And that’s exactly what happened tonight.

A fight broke out between two of the residents over a measly can of food, and that’s when I decided I needed a break from it all. The chaos, the fear, the constant threat of death—I just needed to clear my head. I thought about sneaking out quietly, slipping past the guards, just to get some fresh air.

So I did.

The night was cold, the wind biting at my skin as I moved through the ruins outside the base. I hadn’t gone far, just far enough to escape the noise. But the dark streets carried their own dangers. The sounds of monsters echoed faintly in the distance, sending a shiver down my spine.

I had promised myself I wouldn’t be out for long, that I’d head back before anyone even noticed I was gone. But, deep down, I knew this was reckless. I just didn’t care at that moment.

Kang Seok-chan’s POV

"Where is she?"

The words left my mouth, cold and controlled, but the rising panic underneath my calm exterior was impossible to ignore.

I stood in the main hall, my eyes narrowing as the residents fidgeted nervously. They didn’t have to say anything; I could already sense something was wrong.

One of the residents stepped forward cautiously. "Y/N… she’s not here."

I cursed under my breath. I had been keeping an eye on you, always from a distance, always making sure you stayed safe. This world was too dangerous to take unnecessary risks, and you had just gone and done exactly that.

"How long?" I asked sharply, trying to rein in the frustration building in my chest.

"A while," they answered nervously. "No one saw her leave."

Of course, no one had seen you leave. You were good at slipping away, even when I thought I was watching you closely. But now, you were out there, alone, with monsters prowling the streets. And I couldn’t let that slide.

Without wasting any more time, I grabbed my gear, not bothering to explain myself to anyone. They knew better than to question me when I had that look in my eyes. I was going after you, and I’d bring you back.

Y/N’s POV

I didn’t go far—at least, that’s what I told myself. But the further I walked, the more disoriented I became. The streets all looked the same, the crumbling buildings casting long shadows in the moonlight.

I felt a chill run down my spine, and not from the cold. There was something out there, lurking just out of sight. I could feel it.

The sudden snap of a twig behind me made my blood run cold. My heart leaped into my throat as I spun around, my breath catching in my chest. For a moment, I saw nothing but darkness, but then my eyes adjusted. In the distance, barely visible, a monstrous figure moved, its grotesque body shifting unnaturally in the dim light.

Panic surged through me, and I did the only thing I could think of—I ran.

The streets blurred as I sprinted, my footsteps echoing through the empty city. I didn’t know where I was going; I just knew I had to get away. My lungs burned, my legs ached, but the sound of the monster’s growls behind me kept me moving.

Suddenly, I stumbled over a piece of rubble, crashing to the ground. Pain shot through my ankle, but I bit back the scream threatening to escape my throat. I had to stay quiet. If I made too much noise, it would find me.

I scrambled to my feet, limping forward, the sound of my heartbeat loud in my ears. I had to keep moving. I couldn’t stay here.

Kang Seok-chan’s POV

I moved through the streets with purpose, my eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of you. Every noise, every distant growl set me on edge, but I pushed it aside. The only thing that mattered was finding you and getting you back to the base.

Why did you always have to make things so difficult? I wasn’t blind to the way you felt trapped inside those walls. I had seen it in your eyes, the way you looked out at the world beyond, like you were craving some kind of escape. But this wasn’t the time for that. Not in a world like this.

A part of me was furious with you. Furious that you had put yourself in danger, that you had made me feel like this—worried, scared, angry. I wasn’t supposed to care this much. I had sworn not to let anyone in, not after everything that had happened.

But here I was, running through the streets, trying to save you.

As I rounded the corner, I spotted something in the distance—movement. My heart raced, and I crouched low, my grip tightening on the weapon in my hands. For a moment, I thought it might be one of the monsters, but then I saw you.

You were limping, your face pale with fear, your eyes darting around as you struggled to move forward.

I felt a surge of relief so intense it almost knocked me off balance. But that relief was short-lived when I noticed what was following you—a monster, its grotesque form closing in fast.

Without thinking, I ran.

Y/N’s POV

The growls were getting louder. I could feel the monster getting closer, the terror building inside me with every step. I was trying to move faster, but the pain in my ankle was too much.

Just as I thought it was over, a figure appeared out of nowhere.

"Kang Seok-chan?"

He moved so fast, his presence so commanding, that I could hardly process it. One moment, I was on the verge of being caught, and the next, he was there, his weapon raised, his expression hard and determined.

The monster lunged at him, but Seok-chan didn’t flinch. With a swift, practiced motion, he struck, taking it down with brutal efficiency. It fell to the ground with a sickening thud, and the world around me went silent.

For a moment, I just stared, my breath coming in ragged gasps, my mind trying to catch up with what had just happened. Then Seok-chan turned to me, his eyes blazing with fury.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. I had no excuse, no explanation that could justify what I had done. I had put myself in danger, and worse, I had dragged him into it.

"I—" I started, but he cut me off, his voice low and dangerous.

"You could have been killed." He stepped closer, his eyes locking with mine. "Do you even realize how close that was?"

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I couldn’t hold back the tears that welled up in my eyes. "I’m sorry," I whispered. "I didn’t mean to—"

"Save it," he snapped, his voice cold. "We’re getting out of here. Now."

Kang Seok-chan’s POV

You were crying. I hated it. I hated seeing you like this—scared, vulnerable. But more than that, I hated the way it made me feel.

I was supposed to be angry. I was supposed to be furious with you for leaving the base, for putting yourself in danger. But all I could think about was how terrified you looked, how close you had come to dying.

I wanted to yell at you, to tell you how reckless you had been. But instead, I found myself reaching out, pulling you into my arms.

You didn’t resist. You just stood there, trembling, your face pressed against my chest. I could feel your heartbeat, fast and unsteady, and it took everything in me not to lose my composure.

"Don’t ever do that again," I whispered, my voice harsh but soft at the same time. "I can’t protect you if you keep running off like this."

You nodded against my chest, your hands clutching at my shirt like you were afraid I’d disappear. "I won’t," you whispered back, your voice barely audible. "I promise."

For a moment, we just stood there, the world around us fading into the background. It was only the two of us, standing in the middle of the ruined city, holding onto each other like it was the only thing keeping us alive.

Then, slowly, I let you go.

"Come on," I said, my voice rough as I tried to regain control of my emotions. "We need to get back to the base before

[zeroducks-2]

Something about your possessive alpha Eobard is really lovely. Like I could imagine him taking every opportunity to press a hand to Barry’s stomach even if they’re fighting because to him it’s inevitable that Barry will be his and carry his pup.

Definitely. And it scares the shit out of Barry because he knows what it means, and he knows that if one day he's alone and in heat in his nest, it's not like anyone is going to be able to stop Eobard from slipping right in.

You can have the snippet of something I was writing a while go, a little tweaked for the occasion :)

They had been chasing each other without exchanging even one blow. After all the speedster in yellow was not doing anything, not actively anyway, just started running the moment Barry had approached him. Which was fine. Barry gets an uneasy feeling in the pitch of his belly knowing that the Reverse Flash lurks around his pups, and Ace and Avery are not quite fast enough to notice him yet.

Barry calls to him, tries to cut his routes. And the more they run the more uneasy he feels, like he's missing something obvious, like wanting to get his hands on Thawne to make him stop is superfluous, he should already know why his Reverse was there. And eventually Thawne does stop, or rather spins on his heels so abruptly that it takes Barry a moment too long to redirect himself and counter.

He gets unceremoniously slammed into a wall and has to quell his instinct to retaliate and blast the hulking Alpha off of himself; that would definitely cause too much damage, and Barry has the other where he wants him after all. Not running, close enough to talk.

«Why were you there?» He doesn't really hide a snarl from his voice, still reminding himself to not fight back and not escalate. «What do you want with my pack?»

There's a strangely somber expression on the other speedster's face. He doesn't show fangs or respond with a snarl of his own, instead leans down and sort of bumps the sides of their heads together, rumbling quietly while pressing a palm to Barry's lower stomach. He's so surprised he doesn't keep a startled peep.

They're in a lane in the middle of Central City. The wall Barry is pressing against belongs to a restaurant full of people. On the other side of the lane there are shops. Thawne is effectively holding the area hostage because if Barry fights back, the risk of casualties is too high.

«Your mate seems to be neglecting you.» Thawne comments with a hum, but all Barry can think of is how he just cornered himself like a pup. He needs to find an opening and get the hell away from there.

«I want nothing with your pack, Barry.» Eobard adds, discreetly smelling the crook of his neck. His skin is warmer than normal and there's an overly sweet undertone to his normally mild, comforting scent. And his belly is tense, muscles taut like with faint heat cramps, but maybe it's just that the jittery little thing really wants to bolt. «I was watching you, not them.»

He slowly pulls back, taking both his hands off but possessively pressing his nose to the side of Barry's head in the process, a growl bubbling in the pit of his chest as he catches more sweet notes. «Go home. Get to your nest.» He reluctantly lets go, but at least the message seems to have gotten across given the concerned, wide look on Barry's face. «You're nearing pre-heat, and that pup you keep around has gawked at you even too much for today.»

He's stared at for another beat, then Barry's expression morphs into a scowl right before he books it, most likely running all the way back home.

[mod-jazzy]

What’s been going on, a summary

Hello everyone I have finally decided to speak about something that’s been happening with me lately.

I’m tired of scooting around it and being vague.

For nearly the past two years, I’ve had a stalker. Stalking my blogs, what I say in public servers, what I say on other websites, etc etc.

I left servers over them, i even gave up servers I used to run because of this.

I often turn off my ask boxes and DMs at random to avoid getting harassed further or to attempt to “stop it” for a short amount of time. Just for a moment of peace.

Earlier this year I left all servers and whatnot after receiving a threat of doxxing me. I got afraid and stressed so I just left without saying why. I cut off social contact for the most part without saying why. I was scared and stressed and overwhelmed by it all.

But yesterday, after getting a onslaught of messages spread across my blogs. I was in fact, doxxed and received several threats on my partners life.

We are fine however. My partner is fine and I am fine (as I can be given the circumstances). I just wanted to state that, we are fine.

We have support and are dealing with it behind the scenes. We are fine aside from me being (reasonably) a bit emotional over it.

I do not know who the individual is. I’m primarily harassed and sent threats via anon or burner accounts. So, it’s led to me being quite paranoid around people and what I say and do.

Hence why I left servers and why I don’t talk to anyone anymore. It’s made me paranoid and afraid. Because I just! Do not know who. I just don’t know.

I don’t know what I even did to this person. I don’t know why they haven’t chosen to just block me if they don’t like me. I don’t get it and I’m tired of trying to reason with them or understand.

So. As of now.

All my inboxes are closed to asks for the time being. As well as making my DMs to be “mutuals only” since there isn’t entirely a “close DMs” option.

They won’t be closed forever and I do still plan on answering any asks/interactions I’ve already gotten. I just am keeping everything closed for a bit. I am merely trying to limit how much they can harass me for the time being. I hope you all understand.

So that’s, what’s been happening with me.

I’ve been trying to avoid speaking publicly out of fear of being doxxed, but that happened anyways.

So I don’t know what’ll happen after me posting this, if it’ll get worse or not. Whatever happens, happens I suppose.

Again, I want to reiterate that my partner and I are fine. We are dealing with it and handling it behind the scenes.

I’m just, speaking publicly about it now to explain my rather, erratic behavior over the past year.

Sorry for the long and sudden serious post, but after discussing it with others, we think that maybe me posting about it publicly will help.

Again, apologies for dropping this suddenly, just unsure on what else to do here.

I’ll still be around, lurking and quietly working on content. But I’m just going to have my asks/DMs mostly turned off to hinder the amount of harassment I can get for the time being.

— —

TLDR: I have a stalker, they doxxed me and sent specific threats on my partners life. If I close my askboxes and whatnot, it’s to attempt to avoid further harassment

[thetormentita]

when you’re lost in the dark - chapter 1

Histories always have a hero to save the day, but sometimes there is nobody to fight back the catastrophe.

Pairing: Original female! Character x Joel Miller

A/n: i’ve decided that i’m gonna follow the chapter division like the tv show maybe 🤔 not sure if i’ll stick to it in a future

Warning: mentions of angst, longing. Amy’s starting to talk a bit more about herself, so expect more warnings in the future.

Rating: Mature (+16) (just in case)

Tagging list: @maegelletargaryen @mmkkzz

The explosion shakes the ground, and she can see his soul tremble as well.

“Joel, are you okay?”

“Let’s move.”

He doesn’t even look at her, fists clenched so hard his knuckles turn white.

“Joel—”

“I said: let’s move!”

Both of them freeze for a moment, observing him start walking, his every step a testament to the turmoil swirling within him. The tension is palpable, a thick veil of unspoken words and pent-up emotions hanging heavily between them. They both exchange a quiet glance, a mix of sorrow and understanding passing silently between them.

“Let’s go.” she can hear Ellie mumble, a small hand upon her lower back.

She had disliked the idea since the beginning. If they had been living around the Fireflies by force, to not have the only face she truly trusted out of them all guiding them to their destination would be akin to navigating a storm without a compass. Yet, the decision was made. It wasn’t just about trust or comfort; it was about survival, and Marlene would not have made it with a bullet in her belly if she had to smuggle them out of the city.

They keep walking in silence for a while, and Amelia observes from time to time that problematic forearm of Ellie, more like a habit than like precaution, something build up unconsciously through the days they had spent together in that room, observing the stupid tests ran on Ellie, fear flowing through Marlene and her people’s veins like ice water. It was not just about the potential of what Ellie could bring, it was about what it meant for them personally, the weight of having not one, but two people inmune to Cordyceps.

The cure.

When they are far enough from the city Joel decides to settle their little camp close to the outskirts of a forest, and the three of them sit around a small fire, their rations eaten quietly under the watchful eyes of the night sky. Nobody dares to say a word, but Amelia’s eyes observe Joel from time to time, drinking on his silent strength and the subtle signs of worry etched into his features. Joel’s gaze, in turn, occasionally sweeps over Amelia and Ellie, a silent protector assesing any potential threats that might lurk within the shadows of the night.

“I’ll do the first shift.”

It is obvious none of them will let Ellie even think about offering herself to watch over the rest of the group, both of them care and distrust her too much to let her stay focused through half of the night so they both can sleep properly.

“No. I’ll do it.”

Joel’s voice is firm, leaving no room for argument. Despite the weariness that clings to his limbs and the way his eyes crave the comfort of sleep, his determination is unwavering. He understands the dangers that lurk outside their makeshift camp better than anyone. The world they navigate is unforgiving, filled with creatures and other survivors, all of them willing to end the little sort of built-up truce they have managed to create during their trip. Amelia wants to bite back, but she knows better, she thinks a time alone may help soothe his temper, clear his mind and let him see that neither her nor Ellie are to blame for their situation.

“Don’t stay awake all night.”

Their gazes cross another time, and Amelia nods, her expression a blend of understanding and concern. She has seen this dance of emotions on his face before, the way his jaw tightens when he feels cornered, the quick flicker of pain in his eyes before he masks it with anger. It is a defense mechanism, one that she’s become used to despite how little time they have been together.

“Y’know, I could actually—”

“Shut up and get some sleep.” both retort at the same time, leaving Ellie no room to do anything else apart from grumble a bit as she gets comfortable, her face scrunched up in a grumpy gesture as she does her best to comply.

“You need to rest too.” Amelia mumbles, soft, slightly approaching Joel, tempted to even stretch a hand and touch him in reassurance, just a small brush against his arm. “Wake me up for the second shift, okay?” Joel nods, the dim light casting deep shadows over his rough features.

“Will do,” he promises, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You better do.”

As she stands up, she can feel his dark eyes roaming along her figure, not in a way that makes her uncomfortable, but in a manner that conveys his deep concern for her. It is a look that says he is memorizing every detail, fearful that any moment could be their last together. Slowly she approaches Ellie, who has just started to apparently give up to fatigue, and lays beside her, her body trying to shield hers from cold, close to her back, with an arm wrapped protectively around her. The night is quiet, the only sound is the gentle breath of Ellie, steady but weak. Amelia lifts her gaze to observe Joel, and sees the same worry mirrored in his eyes. The moonlight casts shadows over his face, accentuating the lines of stress and sleepless nights. He nods towards Amelia, a silent gesture of gratitude and understanding. In this moment, they are united not only by their journey but by the shared determination to protect Ellie at all costs.

Of course she does not sleep a wink —or, at least, she thinks so. With her eyes closed, she keeps her attention on their surroundings, on every single noise near them, every rustle of leaves or distant snap of twigs. She knows Joel is capable and will take care of them both, but still she feels the weight of responsibility resting heavily on her shoulders. It is not just about surviving anymore; it is about ensuring Ellie’s safety through this perilous journey. “You two have the future of humankind inside” said Marlene before meeting Joel and Tess, “It is really important for you both to make it to the hospital base. They have the means to develop a cure, but they need you, girls.” Those words echo in her mind with every step they take.

When she has had enough, carefully she gets up, always Ellie’s wellbeing in her mind, and approaches Joel, who has been silently watching over them, his expression a mix of concern and determination.

“My turn.” She says, determination lining her voice like steel. Joel’s gaze softens just a bit, a tacit acknowledgment of her bravery, of her readiness to share the burden. Without a word, he hands her the rifle, the weight of it both foreign and familiar in her hands. She’s not as experienced as Joel, but she has had her chances to have a weapon like that between her hands.

“Listen, ‘bout what happened yesterday—”

“Leave it.” She cuts him off, her voice firm yet not unkind. “We can't afford distractions right now.” She knows the gravity of their situation, the precarious position they’re in, sandwiched between the ever-present threat of the infected and the wary, often hostile, groups of survivors. Every moment they spend dwelling on the past is a moment they’re not focused on survival.

“Tess’d been the only constant in my life f’years. The only friendly face.” he admits softly, his gaze dropping to the ground, a mix of sorrow and resignation in his eyes. “I—”

Without a second thought, her hand lands on his shoulder, with care, her thumb brushing lightly across his collarbone in a gesture meant to comfort. When he slightly flinches at the contact, she can feel her heart breaking in tiny little pieces, each shard reflecting the pain and vulnerability in his eyes. He has had his time to digest the dreadful day they had, and despite not blaming him for his anger, she is thankful that he has decided to open up to her.

“I understand” she whispers, her gaze meeting his steadily, conveying a depth of empathy that words alone could never fully encompass. “It hurts. Badly.” He nods slowly, the ghost of a sigh escaping his lips. “I’ll be here if you want to ever talk about it.”

She knows they were close, Tess herself had told her the night before while they sat under the stars, the dim glow of the campfire flickering across their faces. They had managed to get Joel to have some sleep, and despite Tess willing to do that shift alone, she had managed to convince her to let her stay awake with her.

“God, no!” Tess had even chuckled when she had asked her if Joel and her were dating. “He’s this kind of safety with tons of bolts and I have no will nor strength to open all. We’re just partners.”

Partners. In a world where trust is as scarce as resources, finding someone you can rely on is invaluable.

When Joel leans against her touch, something inside her softens. Despite the rough exterior and the hardened shell that years of surviving in a post-apocalyptic world had built around him, there’s a vulnerability to Joel that she finds deeply endearing.

“How long have you two—?” his dark eyes go to the little body curled up by the fire, almost like wanting to bury Tess’s death as deep as possible so it doesn’t hurt.

“Three weeks. The Fireflies caught me first and drove me to Boston’s QZ. One day, they brought her and chained her, just in case. They ran silly tests on her every day, like wantin’ to see if she turned” she sighs, hugging herself, searching for a comfort long gone, as her mind brings memories of that damned room.

“She trusts you.” He observes, the statement more an acknowledgment of the bond they’ve formed than a question.

“I don’t think she has much options” she mumbles, her gaze dropping to the ground, a mix of guilt and resignation painting her features. “But yeah, she does. More than she should, probably.”

Joel nods, understanding the heavy weight of responsibility that her words carry. “S’not just about havin’ options, though,” he says, his tone gentle, yet firm. “S’about feelin’ safe, feelin’ understood. That’s what you’ve given her.”

Amelia nods, pouting, her eyes reflecting the turmoil of emotions that Joel’s words stir within her. She’s always been one to downplay her impact, to see the help she offers as minimal, not realizing the depth of comfort and security her presence brings to those around her despite having heard it from time to time, always used to be tough to survive. “I guess,” she murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture of nervousness she’s never quite been able to shake off.

Joel steps closer, his gaze softening as he looks down at her, noticing the vulnerability she so rarely shows. “You guess?” he repeats gently, his voice laced with a warmth that makes Amelia’s heart flutter unexpectedly. When their gazes cross again, the cracks of her soul she had been used to hiding seem to mend under his stare. It is as if his very presence was a salve to her wounds, both the visible and invisible ones.

Amelia feels a wave of emotions she hadn’t anticipated, making her momentarily forget the walls she had meticulously built around her heart. It was as if Joel, all tough and resolute on the exterior, holds within him the gentle strength needed to reach her, to genuinely see her, in a way no one else has. His understanding does not demand words; it is a silent communion, a shared knowing that spoke volumes. Each glance, each touch, is laden with meanings only they can decipher.

“Go get some sleep, old man.” she ends up smirking, patting his upper arm. “We still have a lot to travel.”

…

By the time the Sun is about to rise in the sky, Amelia is already up, checking on the perimeter around, the riffle between her hands, her eyes searching for any possible threat that may be looming around. When she has decided that the coast is clear, she approaches Joel and Ellie, deciding to wake up the man first.

“Joel.” she whispers, ducking next to him, giving herself a moment to observe him better. His brow is furrowed in distress, his face clearly showing discomfort. He has to be having a bad dream, she is sure of it. “C’mon, Joel.” she lets herself stroke his hair, slowly, almost tenderly, giving up to temptation, and she is surprised to find his gesture slightly softening, as if he has found some kind of peace between his nightmares.

A soft grumble escapes his chapped lips when he frowns, his eyelids fluttering as he opens his eyes, startled.

“Fuck.” he mumbles, half asleep.

“Good morning to you too.”

Their gazes meet for a second before he starts to frantically look around, like searching for a threat that is not really there.

“It’s okay. I did the last shift, remember?” she mumbles, her voice soft, attempting to ground him back to the safety of their current reality. “Had a bad dream? I hate bad dreams…”

“Aye… A bad dream…”

She doesn’t notice his gaze upon her as she moves to wake up Ellie —or at least it looks like she doesn’t. Almost careless, she lends the girl her hand to help her stand up, and Joel goes to the rests of the small bonfire they lit before going to bed, making sure no ember is left aside to unveil their recent stay.

“So, where the fuck are we goin’ now?”

Ellie is the one to ask the question of the hour a while after they have retaken the route, the little forest always at their side, almost behind them, like wanting to make sure they leave Boston and its calamities aside.

“Gonna crash by a friends’ place” Joel doesn’t even bother to look behind to face them, his eyes instead scanning their surroundings, like distrusting every single thing around them. “Take some supplies, sleep in a cozy bed for a night and give ‘em the latest news.”

“Maybe they wanna join us? The bigger the better.”

Despite not seeing his face, Amelia knows that Joel is fighting back a cackle.

“They ain’t leaving. Bill’s living there long before you two were born.”

[adhdnursegoat]

Premiere!

The first three chapters of The Edge of Us are posted to Ao3! I hope you enjoy! Chapter 1/the prologue can be found below. See link to full work at the bottom!

Enjoy, goats/kids!

The funny thing about power…once you’ve tasted it, it’s the only flavor worth craving.

Gotham: the city that feeds off its own decay. 

To the average mind, it’s just a place of misfortune, filth, and bad timing—a battleground where the worst parts of humanity crawl out from under the rocks to have their day. 

But it’s more than that, isn’t it? 

The world is rotten, but Gotham? Gotham perfects it. This city doesn’t just wear its grime; it drapes itself in it, revels in the stink. Criminals here don’t bother with masks, and the so-called “heroes” don’t look much different than the scum they claim to fight. They’re all actors in a play nobody wanted tickets to, shuffling through their parts, pretending the whole time that it’s something worth fighting for…

Citizens stumble over the cracks in the pavement, breathing in fumes that would choke anyone with a shred of sense. They shuffle through the streets, heads down, eyes half-open, thinking they’re safe if they don’t look too hard. They’re sheep, scurrying through a city that’s sick to its core, all the while the ones at the top keep them under their thumb, pulling their strings like marionettes. They don’t notice a thing. To them, this is just another day in Gotham—a little rough around the edges, sure, but manageable if they keep their heads down and stick to their petty routines.

The poison in the air, the rot spreading through every corner—it’s not just the smell of the streets, it’s in the people, too. They’d rather breathe in the stench of corruption than acknowledge what’s been rotting under their feet for decades. They don’t care, not really, so long as the dirt and decay stay beneath the surface, so long as the ugly truth doesn’t disrupt their comfortable numbness. They’ll let Gotham crumble, brick by brick, piece by piece, from the inside out, so long as it happens quietly. It’s easier that way.

Maybe they’re too far gone to see it. Maybe they’re just afraid to look.

But that’s the tragedy of this city, isn’t it? The more it rots, the deeper its citizens bury their heads in the sand. Denial is their coping mechanism, their security blanket against the truth, and they wrap themselves in it tighter every day. Even as the city darkens, they cling to the idea that nothing’s wrong, that this is just Gotham’s way. The cracks in the concrete, the garbage piling up in alleyways, the shadows encroaching—they treat it all like background noise, scenery in the theater of their denial.

And if that wasn’t absurd enough, now there’s a man jumping off buildings in a costume, dishing out his brand of justice from behind a mask. A bat in the night, lurking on rooftops, swooping down with his fists and his gadgets, as if he’s the answer Gotham has been waiting for. A vigilante, a judge, jury, and executioner all rolled into one, convinced he can set right what’s broken. Self-appointed justice wrapped in Kevlar and rubber, clinging to the belief that he’s some force for change, that he’s somehow better than the criminals he hunts.

But what does he know about change? About Gotham’s sickness, the filth embedded so deeply it’s woven into the foundation of every skyscraper? He thinks he’s making a difference by leaving broken jaws and bruises in his wake, but all he’s doing is treating symptoms, like bandaids on bullet wounds. 

And the people? 

Oh, they eat it up. 

Some love him. 

Some hate him. 

Either way, they are talking about him.

The silent victims wallow in desperation for a hero, for a savior in the dark, someone to make them feel safe without ever asking them to confront what they’re really hiding from. They don’t realize that a man in a mask can’t save a city like Gotham. It’s too far gone for that, too used to its own decay. Maybe they’d understand that if they’d take a real look at the city around them, if they peeled back the wallpaper to see the termite infested structure, if they treated the sepsis festering in their police department and city hall. But they won’t. Because they’d rather believe in a fairy tale, in a hero with wings who can swoop down and make everything right without asking anything to change.

 Ridiculous. 

If he’s being honest, he can appreciate the nerve. At least someone’s trying to push against the status quo, to make this city something other than the mess it is.

He respects the attempt.

But he could do it better.

And it eats at him, you know? 

This knowledge that he could be so much more, that he could do so much more if he weren’t confined to this box, locked in with these idiots who think they’re saving Gotham one speeding and parking ticket at a time. These police, they’re as blind as the criminals they chase, running circles around each other and getting nowhere. It’s a cycle, a routine as dead as the city they claim to protect. 

And he? 

He’s trapped here, forced to watch from the sidelines as they flounder, the only one who sees the truth, the only one with the intelligence and balls to think independently.

There’s a part of him—dark, simmering, waiting—that knows he’s meant for more. He is born to change things, to show Gotham what it could be if it weren’t burdened by the inept and corrupt. Yet here he is, cursed to work in shadows, unrecognized, unappreciated, his potential wasted in a city that wouldn’t know brilliance even if it had a bright, green, neon sign. And sometimes, he wonders if Gotham even deserves saving. This city, these corrupt officials, the police, these pathetic citizens who live with the sickness festering in front of them—they must be enlightened. Stripped of their illusions, their petty routines, rebuilt from the ground up by someone who understands.

But the problem with Gotham? 

It’s too used to its own stench to even try changing. 

Who is he, in all this filth, to try and show them the way? 

He’s a reluctant ghost in their midst, a man asking questions no one dares to ask, a man with answers they don’t even know they need, a man with a mind sharper than any weapon in this city, reduced to sitting in the dark, waiting for someone—anyone—to notice.

They’d call it desperation. 

He calls it purpose. 

And it’s this purpose that sets him apart from them, this knowledge that he can be more, that he should be more. He doesn’t need a cape or a mask to be dangerous. He only needs what he’s already got: his mind, a gift he’s wasted long enough. 

He can see it now, the power of information—of knowledge.

He can feel it coming, a change in the air, a hum of something new. He doesn’t fully understand it yet, this shift that seems to hover just out of sight, a challenge on the horizon waiting to be met. A curiosity lurking in the corners of his mind. He’s close, he can feel it, standing on the edge of something inevitable, something transformative. He’s about to be seen. He will be more.

I will be more.

Full work on Ao3 here!

[reulaux]

Yue Qi rescued Shen Jiu before getting Xuan Su AU

Why does Yue Qi need Xuan Su to go rescue Xiao Jiu? Is Qiu Jianluo Tianlang jun or something? Of course not. For sneaking someone out from a group of mortals, not even fighting them head on, Yue Qi doesn't need the power to obliterate the whole house. Or if it's for revenge, he can come back later when he's a lot more powerful. It's not like the Qiu are going anywhere. The priority is Xiao Jiu's safety. The day he departed from Xiao Jiu tells him enough how gruesome staying in that house is. That's why once Yue Qi grasps the basic on how to utilise qi, he sets to rescue Shen Jiu.

Yue Qi doesn't know his shizun's thinking enough so he wouldn't risk placing hope on shizun's favour. Asking for forgiveness is easier and a more sure way than asking for permissions after all. But just in case, Yue Qi writes a note in his room saying he's going to see his family and will be back. He waits until shizun goes out to have a meeting outside the sect, then sneaks off the mountain at night. He hires a horse with his carefully saved money and speeds to the Qiu Manor.

It takes 3 days to reach the estate. He surveys the surrounding walls and guard positions. After the sun sets, he dresses in a dark robe and covers his face. He looks up the wall on the dimmest side, channels his qi and jumps up the wall. He lurks among the trees and disarms the guards one by one until he reaches the building. He asks the servants inside with a sharp little knife to their throats of the directions to the slave compartment and to Shen Jiu's room.

It's a door with many locks but he doesn't bother stealing the keys. He just doesn't want to startle Xiao Jiu inside. He hopes Xiao Jiu is inside though. If he isn't...

Never mind.

He concentrates his qi, slams the locks, and quietly opens the door.

Xiao Jiu is crouching facing him with an anxious and wary expressions.

"Xiao Jiu."

"Qi ge! You finally came!" Xiao Jiu's face lights up.

Yue Qi steps inside. "Xiao Jiu, are you injured? Can you stand?"

"I can… But it's painful. I won't be able to run far nor fast."

"Climb onto my back. I'm bigger and stronger now. I can carry you out this time." He is having a growth spurt. Good food and a better quality of sleep really do wonders. Xiao Jiu is barely bigger than when he left him though...

By the time Yue Qi is sprinting out off the building, the Qiu has noticed the intrusion. Yue Qi moves in the shadow, jumps up the wall, and darts to the horse he tied to a tree some distance away. He puts Xiao Jiu on the horse, and rides back to the sect without dawdling. The farther away from the manor, the safer Xiao Jiu is.

He slows down in the morning only to buys Xiao Jiu food, and continue until they reach the sect. He treats Xiao Jiu with oinments, cream, and bandgaes he accumulated.

And then, what?

The sect leader is likely already back, but does he cares if a disciple sneaked off? Yue Qi hasn't stayed in the sect for that long so the sect leader hasn't taken notice of his talents or devotion.

Nevertheless surely a non sect member can't stay in the sect. Can Shen Jiu hide in Yue Qi's room without anyone noticing, maybe until the discipls selection day which may be soon or a long time away?

Or will Yue Qi beg shizun to let Shen Jiu join Cang Qiong? But this time Yue Qi hasn't been an important head disciple who has a hand in defeating Tianlang jun, nor is Shen Jiu a notable person who killed Wu Yanzi and saved said head disciple's life.

But even if Shen Jiu can't stay inside the sect, Yue Qi will give Xiao Jiu money enough for him to buy food and a room in an inn until Xiao Jiu can officially join Cang Qiong. In the meantime, Yue Qi is going to visit Shen Jiu whenever he has time, teaches him reading, cultivation, and gives him books and a head start for the upcoming disciple selection day.

Surely this would be #competent Yue Qingyuan, more so than in canon.

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I imagine if the sect leader knows when Yue Qi sneaked out off the sect maybe through a talisman, or an array imbued in Yue Qi's property, maybe the name tag that's used to pass through the sect barrier, maybe he will send some people to retrieve Yue Qi, and finds out that the Qiu has taken Yue Qi back as their slave because they remember him being another slave with Shen Jiu, and Yue Qi miscalculates, is underprepared, and is captured. And the sect is really angry someone dares to enslave their disciple so they tear down the Qiu, and Yue Qi and Shen Jiu are freed...

[snowball-doie]

yuta's room becomes the unofficial sex room of the house since its the one with all the toys and stuff in it, so i imagine the kids are generally not allowed in there just in case. of course exceptions are made when reyna decides that she needs her dad in the middle of the night but going into that room without an adult is almost always an absolute no no.

Oh you can bet money the door is locked at all times once Reyna is born. They’re not taking ANY chances. Even if he’s home, Yuta has the door locked, and Reyna knows that if she ever wants to see him while he’s inside for whatever reason, then she needs to knock or find one of her other parents- Cuz there’s physically no way for her to get inside lmao.

But in the middle of the night, when she gets a nightmare, she wants her chichi real bad, so she stumbles towards his room, rubbing her sleepy eyes. She knocks, “Chichi…..” she pouts quietly to not wake anyone up. “Chichiiiii…….” But no one’s answering the door. She huffs and goes to Johnny’s room where her mom is sleeping, “Eoma…” she shakes Ahri awake, “Eoma, can you wake chichi up? I had a nightmare.” Ahri sits up and grabs Reyna, propping her on her hip as she stands, “You okay?” Reyna sniffles and nods, “I want to cuddle with chichi.” Ahri sighs and carries Reyna back to Yuta’s room. She knocks louder and more adamantly than Reyna had, “Yuta, open up.” It takes a few min, but Yuta eventually opens up, his long red hair all tangled and sticking to his face, his eyes not even open when he mumbles, “What is it?” “Reyna had a nightmare.” Ahri hands Reyna over to Yuta. He puts her on his hip and steps out of his room, making sure Jungwoo isnt bothered by them since he’s fast asleep in Yuta’s bed after a, uh, long night of adult cuddling! “Let’s get you back in bed,” he tells his daughter in Japanese. With a kiss on Ahri’s cheek and using his free hand to pat her ass, Ahri is sent back to bed in Johnny’s room while Yuta takes Reyna back to her room. “What scared you, princess?” “The monster in my closet.” “What monster?” “The one like in that movie you and daddy were watching earlier.” Yuta sighs to himself. He and Mark thought Reyna was in her room coloring while they were watching The Babadook in the living room….. They didn’t realize she was lurking and watching, scarring her childhood. Great. “That’s just a movie, baby.” He slides Reyna into bed then cuddles up with her. “No monster’s gonna hurt you.” “Promise?” “Hai. Monsters are scared of me, remember?” Reyna nuzzles her face against Yuta’s chest. “Remember, these guys are here to protect you too…” He reaches for the stuffed animals on her bed— He had Yu and Uta plushies custom made for her. He balances them on top of Reyna’s hip, and when they fall, they both giggle and reach out for them so that Reyna can hug both Yu and Uta simultaneously while still hiding her face against Yuta’s bare chest. “But Uta isn’t scary, chichi.” “What? She’s scarier than Yu.” “Really?” “Yeah. Monsters are scared of girls ‘cause they’re so powerful and cool. So that’s why they’re scared of you more than you’re scare of them.” “But chichi and Yu will still protect me, right?” “Of course.” “Good.” Yuta smiles to himself and squeezes Reyna. At least she’s not upset anymore and can fall asleep while cuddling her dad and her two plushies.