#that's fine i'm fine it doesn't hurt AT ALL

[obito-in-disguise]

This was the third time this week Satoru had come home late from work, well past 11 PM. You sit up in bed, faintly hearing the familiar jingle of keys and the heavy thud of his footsteps climbing the stairs.

The bedroom door swings open, and he steps in with a deep, tired sigh. The moment his eyes land on you, his expression softens. With a theatrical exhale, he yanks off his blindfold and all but collapses into your waiting arms.

"Crush me, why don't you?" you wheeze with a giggle, wrapping your arms around him. But as your fingers felt the tight tension in his body, your smile faltered.

"You calling me fat? That's offensive, you know" he mumbles, not bothering to move.

Gently, you tug his head from your shoulder, cupping his cheek and frowning at the dark circles beneath his eyes. "I hate how they work you to the bone… my poor baby"

He nuzzles his cheek into your palm, voice low and weary. "Nothing I can't handle" his reply is humorous but his exhaustion betrays him.

You give him a once over. "This is what you call handling? You look like you're about to keel over."

He chuckles finally rolling off you. "I've been through much worse, I'll live"

Sitting up, he cracks his neck and groans, while you joined him, your fingers instinctively finding the sore spot on his shoulder.

"Toru, take off your shirt and lay down" you instructed with a smile. "I'll give you a massage."

He eyes you warily "You don't exactly have gentle hands, baby. It's fine."

You gasp in shock. "What the hell Satoru? I give the best massages, now lay down"

He sighs in defeat, he knew he would regret this but he had no choice, he pulls off his shirt and lays down on his stomach, his face stuck in a grimace.

"Oh stop it, you're literally gonna eat your words in a minute" you huff, feeling insulted. How dare he question your expertise?

Another sigh escapes him followed by a soft grunt, as you straddle his back before sitting on his butt and cracking your knuckles ominously in preparation.

"Alright sweets… prove me wrong"

He flinches, feeling your fingers dig into his shoulders as you start your 'massage'. Stars flash across his vision as you massage the muscle above his collar bones like they were your mortal enemies.

"Ow! Ow! princess please not that hard!" he yelps, jerking his shoulders away.

You groan, placing your hands on his lower back. "You need to trust me, Satoru… this won't work without a little trust."

He manages a forced smile. "it's not that I don't trust you, it's that this isn't a massage"

Scoffing, you cross your arms "You're being paranoid, you're not letting yourself enjoy this"

After a moment, he sighs, "Fine then… I trust you. Go on."

With a grumble, you resume your massage. "Just relax" you whisper. But as you press in again, his body tenses and he yells, "Ow! Shit!"

"See? You don't trust me!" you exclaim, throwing your hands up in frustration.

He turns his head back to look at you in exasperation "It's not that I don't trust you, it's just that you're diggin your fingers into my skin…it hurts!"

"That's the only way it'll work, Toru!"

He exhales "It doesn't have to hurt to be effective, baby. It's a massage, not a mauling."

"Very funny" you deadpan, pinching his side softly as punishment for his snark.

He flinches "I'm just saying, your version of a massage feels more like torture than relaxation"

"Fine then, sorry I tried to help" you huff, climbing off his back.

He chuckles watching you climb off angrily. "I didn't say you can't help me. I just said you can't do it the way you were. You have to softer, like this"

He turns over, laying on his back, beckoning you back onto him. He grips your hips, gently lifting you to sit on top of him.

His fingers run up and down the flesh of your thighs softly, rubbing firm but gentle circles into the muscles.

You nod, getting his point but can't resist the urge to defend the honour of your massage "mine was gentle too…"

He snorts, tilting his head "Hardly, it felt like you were trying to punish me"

"ha ha, whatever" you say dryly, climbing off him again, gesturing with your fingers "roll over, lemme try again"

He obliges, rolling onto his stomach again "Ok, I'll give you one more try. But don't make me regret this"

He's pleasantly surprised when you assume your position again and start the massage, this time much gentler.

"There, that's much better…"

He can finally feel the tensions and the pain start to ease out of his muscles, replaced by the gentle movements of your hands.

You can't help but smile "See? you just needed to trust me."

He chuckles lightly "Alright, I admit I was a bit on edge but you can't blame me after that first attempt"

"Alright alright, we get it Satoru"

He chuckles again and sighs, starting to feel his eyelids get droopy, his body relaxing entirely.

The massage goes on for a few minutes more, the atmosphere settling into a comfortable silence.

"Feeling better yet?" you ask him tenderly, only to get no response.

He had fallen asleep, his lips slightly parted, body limp. You smile, rubbing his back before slipping off him.

You place a kiss on his cheek before leaning over and turning off the lamp, leaving the soft glow of the moon to watch over the room.

"Goodnight, Satoru"

tiny taglist: @catlover19282

Feel free to check out more of my jjk fics and other stories!

[chiakeys]

rafayel snuggle smut. but it's less sleepy vibes and more like he's holding you hostage while spooning

just rafayel getting you off, groping, rafayel's scent kink, sweet talking still 🫶

˚꩜˖°⋆🐚‧₊˚ ⋅🌊｡𖦹°‧

"Don't move," Rafayel's gentle voice reverbs from right behind your ear. You can feel the words through his chest, pressing up against your back.

He sighs, and it's like he melts into you a little— his nose presses against your hair, breathing in deeply, his lips leaving a soft and quick kiss right behind your ear.

Rafayel's laptop is on the coffee table in front of you, some sort of long video playing. YouTube autoplay, nothing either of you were paying attention to anymore.

His arm squeezes you closer. You lightly scratch against the flexing of his muscles, just to see his skin rise. He smells your hair again, followed by another happy sigh.

"I like this shampoo," he finally speaks again.

You can't help but smile as you reply, "It's your shampoo, of course you like it."

"Mm-hmm," his arm slides down slightly. He lifts the edge of your shirt, just enough to press his palm against your stomach. His hand is warm, and it feels as nice as it usually does. "That makes it even better. And it smells different on you."

He rubs his palm against your skin before continuing, voice in a gentle lull. "Your hair, and your skin... Just don't move. I wanna smell you forever."

"That's creepy," you mumble back.

"Nuh-uh, you're creepy." He immediately responds, not even missing a beat. He pinches the fat on your stomach now, not enough to hurt, but just as a small retaliation.

You want to try and turn to look at him now, but he doesn't let you. He holds you down enough until you're forced to stare straight ahead again. "I'm not the one sniffing your hair," you say.

Rafayel chuckles from his chest, and his hand creeps up almost without you noticing. Further under your shirt, up and up— "You wouldn't be hugging me after the gym if you didn't like smelling me. And you like it 'cause you loooove me."

"You��" He squeezes your breast, and your words cut off. "What're you doing?"

"Nothing. We're cuddling. Do you like my shampoo?"

You blink. "What?"

"My shampoo. That you use here. Do you like it?" He patiently clarifies, as if the conversation is supposed to be expected. But it's a bit hard to focus on the words and not the fuzzy feeling in your stomach, when his fingers grope the fat of your breast, stretching out and massaging the plushy flesh.

Not gently, but not rough—

You swallow. "It's nice, yeah."

"Yeah?" He hums against your neck, and his thumb brushes over your nipple, back and forth. And you can't help but push back against him, him and his all-encompassing warmth.

He doesn't grind up against you like you expect him to. He huffs, instead, hand groping hard again, until you squeak.

"It's only nice? I spend a lot of money on that. Can't believe it's only nice." Rafayel pouts.

"Fi–Fine, it's very nice. I'm sure it's made from glowing jellyfish mucus or something—"

He cups the bottom of your breast, bounces the fat slightly, and he lets out a pleased sound. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that," he adds after.

You grab at his forearm, gripping at it until you can firmly pull at it, not sure if you want to pull it away from you or down, or make sure he can't move his hand away from you at all. He doesn't react, doesn't even acknowledge it.

He keeps fondling you while he presses his neck further into your hair, breathing deeply again. It feels a little more obscene this time.

It does something for him. You hear his voice in your ear, a low moan.

You sigh yourself, before speaking out again. "Are you gonna..."

"What?" Rafayel grins. "Am I gonna...?"

"Are you gonna do anything? Like, yourself?" There's a slight whine in your voice. You can feel him hard against you, and no matter how much you squirm, he doesn't push back up against you. It has to be purposeful.

"I'm doing plenty," he leaves a wet kiss on your skin. "We're just cuddling."

You groan. "This is... cruel and unusual cuddling..."

But if he's going to be stubborn about this, then you may as well settle into it. Your eyes close as you relax further against him, and relax against the feeling of his hand, heart fluttering.

"There you go," he drawls lightly. "Cuddling is a two-way street, you know. It doesn't work if you're all stiff."

"Shouldn't that be my line?"

Rafayel snorts. "My stiffness isn't relevant right now."

You whine. "But why not?" You open your eyes again, turning your head just enough to pout up at him, and his eyes crinkle softly.

"'Cause you don't need to do anything about it. You're just pretty enough like this." He gives you one last squeeze, before his hand drops back down.

He shoves his hand into your waistband, patience forgotten. You gasp quickly when his fingers draw a straight line over your panties, rubbing back and forth.

"But I'm not even doing anything..." You reply, sighing.

"Exaaactly," Rafayel shuffles up against you. His nose presses against your neck, right as his fingers press into your covered slit, curiously feeling just how much wetness has soaked through.

He continues, "You don't need to do a single thing to get me off. You're pretty." He presses a wet kiss near your pulse, speaking into your skin. "And you smell good." He peppers another kiss. "And I love you."

"What more do I need?" He asks, and your thighs squeeze around his hand, hips jolting forward. He stubbornly presses against you for a few more moments before he gives in and slips his hand underneath the fabric entirely.

"Raf—" You gasp at the rush of sensation, arching back against him. You blindly reach out behind you, grabbing onto the fabric of his shirt. You don't think you'd be able to loosen your grip even if you wanted to.

"And you can drop the fake protests, yeah? We both know you're more than happy to just stay put and take it."

It breaks the tension, a little bit. Enough for you to struggle through a surprised laugh— voice falling off into a pitched moan.

"Rude," you gasp. "So, so... so rude..."

Rafayel spreads you open, stroking at your outer folds before dipping in, wet and dripping.

"Oh." You suddenly keen as his fingers push in deeply, scissoring at your walls, in and out, until the squelching can be heard through your clothes and the rustling. In and out, already setting a fixed pace.

You're still struggling with your thighs, squeezing them against Rafayel's hand. But he doesn't seem to mind. He doesn't bother forcing them open. He just presses his whole palm more firmly against you, pressing down on your clit—

And you jolt from the sensation, pushing up against him, close close close, as your hips instinctively try to get away.

"Good?" He asks, voice quiet and low.

"Yeah, yeah— Really good, super good— So, so, so good."

He groans, jutting his own hips against you for a second, almost accidentally.

You don't get a chance to grind back against him, not when he starts fingering you in earnest, the weight of his hand heavy against your wet cunt, the slick sounds embarrassingly loud.

Rafayel scrapes his teeth on your skin at the next whine you let out, and you know he means business when he makes sure to keep a consistent pace. And something about it has you keening closer to the edge that you should be, fingers slipped off his arm before grabbing again, moans breaking out again.

"Raf— You have to slow down," you cry out, voice breaking.

"Why?" He asks simply, casually.

"I'm gonna— I don't wanna, yet, it's too fast—"

He laughs slightly, fondly. "You can cum, pretty girl, that's the point. I want you to cum. All over my fingers, yeah?"

Rafayel grinds his palm against you even more, his fingers pressing against that spongy spot inside of you, the spot that makes you keen without fail, eyes tearing up because it's too good and there's nowhere to go except to stay.

"Pretty, pretty, pretty..." His mumbles against your skin are almost unheard.

You think you say something back to him, stutter through another reply, but the content of it all escapes you now. You babble through some sort of response as Rafayel brings you up and up and higher still.

You gasp suddenly, freezing for a brief second. All you can do is reach back to grab onto his shirt again, warning him without words. He knows what you're trying to tell him, of course. He probably knows it better than you do.

"There you go, there you go..." Rafayel keeps stretching you out, your wetness audibly smacking against his knuckles. "Just relax with me, let it come, I'm not going anywhere."

He continues even as you gasp on your own moans. "I've got you, I've got you..."

And of course, of course it finally hits— he builds you up higher and higher until you finally slip past that edge, stomach dropping, back arching as you cry out.

You writhe against him through your climax, thighs squeezing his hand so tightly that you're not even entirely sure how he manages to keep going, not slowing down even a moment.

He lets you ride out the full extent of your peak, until everything within you finally starts to still. You gasp for breath. Waiting more for the shaking to stop, as Rafayel slips his fingers out, and lazily pats at your puffy lips. Good job, the gesture seems to say.

You can finally turn your head all the way now, to look at his face, Rafayel's warm eyes gazing at you already. He leans in to kiss you indulgently. Soft and gentle and a little wet, his favorite kinds of kisses to give you.

"Do you need anything?" He asks you, still close enough for you to feel his breath against your lips. It takes you a moment to find your words again.

"No," you say quietly. "Do you?" You ask right back, double meaning intended. You know he's still hard.

"Nope. Nada." He smiles and kisses you again. No arguing allowed.

You blink slowly, still trying to catch up to the world, but the sleepiness creeps in. Rafayel catches on and pulls you over until you're fully facing him, and then some. Until your cheek is against him and your body rests on top of his.

Warm.

You don't drift off to sleep that fast, but you let your mind doze off as Rafayel wraps his arms around you. He puts his hand underneath the back of your shirt to soothingly stroke your skin.

You melt further onto him, as close as the two of you can be.

[lustlovehart]

Hi hi hi I love your blog I love how you coordinate the characters you like it makes it way easy to see if we have any similar faves! For twst do you have any Yan!Rollo thoughts to spare? Any crumbs at all? 🎤

I'm happy the setup for my character list actually worked! I'm willing to write for a lot of characters, but I do have preferences (not to say I hate writing for characters that aren't my favs, sometimes you js get a spark of inspo and NEED to write) so I wanted people to easily know who I enjoyed to write/draw for more!

Warnings: [Yandere], Obsession, Idealization, Delusions, Kisses, He's a freak (Literally)

Yandere Rollo who's the type to not bask in your glory, but rather simply, linger, in it. Oh, but don't be fooled, if he had the opportunity to he would swallow you and your entirety like fine wine.

But he doesn't, because despite his wicked need to be your one and only, he knows the only way you'll ever be his, is to trap all your affections in a bottle and keep it close to his heart.

This doesn't mean he can't find someway to bypass his own rules. It may be a misdemeanor in his morals, but he isn't truly hurting you.

Rollo, who is the type to try and be realistic with his affections, yet a deeper part of him pushes past all rational thought and imagines you as his light. An even more suppressed part of him wishes for himself to be your light.

"Do you really only eat grapes and croissants? I'm not sure if that's a very nutritional meal..." Rollo's tired eyes glance up from his plate at you, poor table manners having you lean on the surface as you stab at a piece of cake.

"You speak like that and eat different variations of dessert at least once a week." his expression doesn't change, but his point of focus does, trained at the piece of frosting on the corner of your lip.

"Well i'm sorry for not wanting to eat the same thing over and over again." You point down at his plate, 14 grapes and half a croissant left on the dish. He's ready to say something, but then a hint of defiance glints in your eyes, your hand quickly taking the croissant from him. "Well, you can get something else or trek back to town for another one." You place the pastry on your lips, opening your mouth to engulf the rest of the bread, but before you have the chance to eat any of it, you blink at Rollo's face on the other end. With each bite of the other half letting him close in on you. "Rollo-"

In the last consumption, he steals your end from your lips. It has you tense at the proximity, and he's leaning in, and he's coming closer to your lips...

And his hand is quickly turning your chin to allow his thumb to swipe the piece of frosting away. You stare at him wide-eyed at the act, questioning what just occurred. But before you can ask him what the hell that was about, he leaves.

Because he knows, he would tell you if you ask.

Rollo who keeps this obsession compressed in public, but the moment he's alone, he smiles to himself, thoughts of you racing through his mind.

Throughout the day, Rollo avoids you lest he jump to his desires. But he will notice the way he sticks out his tongue to lick his lips, savoring you from your half of the croissant. Secretly, he wishes to have left the bread longer in your mouth so more of you would sog its flavor.

He even notices the way he bites his thumb, tongue peaking out to strip clean the flavor of icing. Even after its essence is wiped clean, he continues. He imagines himself indulging in sin. Rather than swiping the frosting he should've cleaned it with his own mouth.

Or maybe even, continued going after the entirety of the bread was gone, taste you rather than a pastry.

Oh, but you might be sweet, too sweet for even him. The thought though, has him clench his fist...

Rollo who keeps a secret journal filled to the brim of you.

Pictures you had taken, items you left in his room when you were sleeping over, even more personals no one other than you should have. It's truly horrific. There's an entire page sprayed with your perfume (That he personally hunted down himself.), that he lays next to him at night to imagine you're there.

There are also words scribbled in neat handwriting, detailing the love he wishes to spill for you.

Rollo who, despite how hard he wishes to keep you far from harm and the outside cruel influence, will wait until your heart is for him.

Because, you are his light, one that must continue to shine in order to light the horrible life he has lived. He will harbor you growth for as long as he can, until the moment your candle burns for him, and you're all his.

Once that happens, he will never have to worry about his delusions, being delusions any longer.

[johnwickb1tsch]

lessons in anatomy XI

a yandere art professor John Wick x drawing model muse! reader AU... (also featuring Matt from River's Edge. If you haven't seen the movie that's ok, I will fill in the gaps as we go...) warnings: dark adult themes, violence, sex, drugs, yandere shit. plz don't read if u can't handle it ->chapter map

XI.

You drift in and out of consciousness. 

You are being carried, and then you are being tossed onto a hard surface. Dull pain bites through you as you land. You look around, recognizing the interior of a van, various coiled cables hung up on the sides and trunks of something stacked around. Something sharp digs into your back, but you can't move. 

It's easier to sleep. 

You close your eyes. But then you open them again, because…loud noises. 

Shouting. 

Fighting. 

What you see through heavy lidded eyes must be a dream. The violence is…unspeakable. A dark whirlwind topples the impossibly monolithic behemoth that is Samson. He falls like a redwood. The earth should shake when he lands. Then the shadow makes short work of Layne too, dodging a punch, twisting the young man up until you hear a wet pop. 

The last thing you remember is an animal face hovering over you. You think of Anubis administering to the deceased in the afterlife. 

Are you dead?

-You wake up on a relatively soft mattress with sheets pulled up to your chin. The first thing you see is a motionless black wolf staring at you with blank eyes. You start, trying to sit up, but your limbs weigh about a thousand pounds.

A moment later, you realize it's just a mask. Your lone wolf’s mask, in fact. How the fuck…

You don't remember going with him? You remember…oh god.

You remember Samson hitting Matt. 

Everything that happened after that…is pretty fucking fuzzy. But somehow, you are back in your apartment, in your bed. 

You whimper, settling back into the pillow, trying to remember. 

It's all a blank.

You lay there and stare at the ceiling for a good ten minutes before you even think to look for your phone. Miraculously, it's right there in the night stand, right next to that ominous mask. 

You reach out to snatch your phone, like the lupine headgear might come to life and bite you. 

And yet…he wasn't the one who tried to hurt you, was he? 

There are several texts from your friends demanding where you are. Somehow, you already answered them: Went home, I'm fine. 

Did you send that text? Or…did someone else, so your friends wouldn't come looking for you? 

The thought sends another wave of uneasiness through you. 

And what happened to Matt?

As though the very thought summons him your phone rings. You’re holding the device in your hand, but it still makes you jump. As though you’ve forgotten how to answer the damn thing you stare at it stupidly almost long enough to miss the call. Finally you slide your finger across the screen, lifting it to your ear. 

“Hello?” Even to you, you sound like hell.

“Y/n? Thank God!”

“Matt? Where are you?”

“I think I'm still at the warehouse,” he says, sounding bewildered. “I just woke up. Everyone's gone.”

“Oh.” You can tell just by looking at the window that it’s late afternoon. 

“Y/n…what happened? Are you ok?”

“I…don't remember anything,” you admit. “I woke up at home. I think…I'm fine.” You're sore, but you don't feel like you need to go to the hospital for an examination. 

You’re not sure why you decide to leave out the calling card of the wolf mask. 

There is silence on the other end of the phone, as Matt tries to suss this out with a brain that is, you assume, as drug-fogged as yours. You also can't help but think he's flabbergasted that his friends didn’t do something terrible to you. 

“Y/n…” He doesn't seem to know what else to say, and the silence drags on. Finally he settles on, “I'm glad you're ok.”

“Thanks. Are you ok?” It can't have felt good to get hit by his huge friend like that. 

“I guess so.” Another long silence stretches, yet neither of you seem to want to hang up the phone. “Y/n…what are you going to do?”

“What do you mean?” 

“Are you…going to tell the police?”

“I don't know,” you answer quietly. You wait for him to ask you to have mercy on his friends, to forgive them, to say something stupid like they were just playing around. 

“Well…it’s up to you. I've got your back either way.” He surprises you with this. It seems like he grew up a lot just in the past twelve hours.

“Thanks, Matt. Can you get home ok?”

“Yeah. I'll be fine.”

“Be careful. Your friends don't seem like they're too happy with you.”

“They’re not my friends anymore, y/n. Catch you later?” 

Well, you'll be damned. He finally gets it.

“Yeah, sure.”

You hang up, clutching the phone to your chest like a teddy bear.

Should you tell the police? Drugging you and Matt was surely some sort of crime. What would you tell them though? That you were at a party and don’t remember anything? You're in a brain fog, unable to work out what you want to do. Mostly, right now? You want to sleep some more, so you do.

Hours later you finally manage to get out of bed, hobbling stiffly to the kitchen. All you have the energy to make is toast. You wrap yourself in a blanket and turn on the tv. You slept so late that it's already time for the evening news.

You freeze at the sight on the screen. 

The affectedly sincere voice of the newscaster narrates, “Firefighters responded to a vehicle fire on the waterfront late last night. No one was found injured and authorities are still searching for the owner of the van.” The camera pans to show the charred remains of the vehicle with the muddy river rolling in the background. 

There are remnants of paint on the side of the van. Or at least, different shades and sheens of charred black. 

You're certain, to the marrow of your bones, that it's the van Matt and his band mates use to haul their gear around. 

His band mates, Layne, and Samson.

TBC...

___

->chapter map pinterest board/ photo credits

[rekino2114]

I would like prompt:23 for Akira from Danganronpa he(art)less deceit for 7 minutes in heaven with the male reader! I just know there's going to be a bit of spice in there somewhere.

Playing 7 minutes in heaven with akira hayasaka

Suggestive post (implied smut)

Pairing:akira hayasaka x male reader

A/n:ok so here's what I'm gonna do for (he)artless deceit. You can request for the girls, but I won't add it to the master until I reach my next milestone. It will be kind of like a secret menu thing for now

Prompts list

"Come on"

"No"

"Pretty please"

You looked back at akira who was giving you puppy eyes

"......fine but you can't record it"

She beamed and immediately hugged you

"And that's why you're the best boyfriend ever"

"Why do you wanna do this anyway? Isn't that a game teenagers play?"

"Cause I wanna make out with you in a closet"

You blushed surprised by her bluntness

"...s-seriously? You could have just asked me if you wanted to make out"

"Yeah but it's more special like this"

"Whatever, so who do you wanna invite?"

"Oh no I wanted to play with just the two of us"

".........doesn't that defeat the whole point of playing?"

"Y/n, I'm gonna be completely honest with you. if someone else gets to stay 7 minutes in a closet alone with you, I might just slit their throat"

"..........fine I don't have a bottle anyway"

"And that way we can get right to the good part"

Akira put a timer for 7 minutes on her phone and placed it on the bed. She then immediately followed you as you went into the closet and locked it.

"OK so what do you-"

Before you could finish your sentence, the ultimate social media sensation/assassin pinned you to the wall and smirked

".....seriously? You just wanna start immediately?"

"Duh, we only have 7 minutes babe, and I'm gonna make the best use of them"

".........You're lucky You're an insanely good kisser"

"Just one of my many talents"

She got even closer and pressed her lips against yours. Because of the insane pleasure and surprise, you couldn't help but let out a few moans, which caused your girlfriend to kiss you even more.

Akira's kisses are aggressive but gentle at the same time. She puts a lot of tongue in them but makes sure to not overwhelm you in the process. As an assassin, she knows all the spots in the human body to hurt a person, but she also knows all the best spots to bring you pleasure and she uses that knowledge all the time in bed and even right now to get you as worked up as she is.

You continued making out for the following minutes, only stopping to catch your breath and even when you did akira didn't let you relax, she whispered stuff like "you taste so good baby" or "if you keep blushing like that I'm not gonna be able to control myself" her hot breath combined with her chest pressing against you and her incredible kisses made you so aroused, causing you to kiss akira harder even taking charge sometimes which she was definitely not complaining about.

You kept going like this for a while until a loud beep from out of the closet brought you back to reality and made akira roll her eyes

"Seriously? 7 minutes already? Fuck this"

She proceeded to kiss you again, taking you by surprise

"I thought we were doing 7 minutes"

"Come on babe, you're seriously going to leave me like this? I promise I'll make it worth your while"

"................"

"I know you're feeling the same, the look on your face says it all, you won't even have to do anything and I'll make you feel real heaven~"

"In a closet?"

"Isn't that the whole point of the game? I think we can stretch the 7 minutes part though"

She purposefully pressed herself even closer to you, making you feel even hotter. You muttered a curse and started taking your shirt off. Akira smirked even more and licked her lips at the sight of your bare chest while taking off her own shirt.

"Thanks handsome~ you won't regret one second of it"

[Timeskip]

When you got out of the closet, you were both panting and completely naked, your skin being full of kiss marks and hickeys courtesy of the purple haired girl who was currently carrying you to the bed as you could barely walk after your definitely more than 7 minutes in heaven.

"Fuck that was good, did you enjoy it too y/n?

".............yeah"

"How are you feeling?"

".....tired and sore"

"Oh my bad sorry"

"No, I don't usually feel like this when we're in bed, let's never do it in a closet again, it was so uncomfortable"

"Noted, but it's still my fault, so sorry again, but don't worry cutie, cause right now you're gonna get some elite level naked cuddling all evening and night from yours truly"

"Didn't you say you had a job tonight?"

"Then I guess those fuckers get to live one more day"

"Won't your clients get mad at you?"

"I think they're smart enough not to argue with the girl who knows their names and 17 different ways to kill them"

You deadpanned but nuzzled into her chest as she hugged you close

"I don't know why but knowing you'd kill someone for me is weirdly comforting"

"No one gets to interrupt me pampering my amazing bf, let's order take out and scroll through social media now, sounds good?"

"......yeah"

Your girlfriend smiled and kisses your cheek before pulling out her phone

"Great, love you"

"Love you too"

[silverynight]

Shorts

The day Tanjirou's uniform gets torn into pieces... well, not all of it, just his trousers and thankfully not all of them, just enough for his thick thighs to be completely exposed.

Now that wouldn't be a problem in the butterfly estate; sure, a lot of slayers would be staring at him and drooling, but they wouldn't dare to do anything about it.

Sadly, all the hashira find themselves in the butterfly estate that day, which is, usually, a pain in the ass for Aoi, who has to deal with their nonsense whenever Tanjirou is around because they are ridiculously thirsty for him.

The moment she sees Tanjirou arriving at the estate like he's wearing shorts, her first instinct is to ask him to cover himself, but the butterfly girls are way faster than her and instead they start asking him what happened.

"Well... it was a bit weird," he says, scratching his left cheek as he chuckles. "The demon I was trying to fight was only aiming at my clothes. He didn't even try to hurt me!"

Aoi sighs as she pinches the bridge of her nose. Seriously, demons too?

"That's a very interesting story, but I think you should change..."

"Tanjirou!" Kanroji rushes towards him, followed by the others.

It's too late now.

"Are you okay?" Kocho manages to ask before everyone notices.

"Yes, it was only my uniform!" Tanjirou smiles, trying to reassure them, like he always does whenever he comes back from a mission and he runs into a Pillar or all of them.

He doesn't like when they worry about him, even though they do that all the time.

Shinazugawa is already drooling, because of course he is; Aoi is sure he's very tempted to bite one of Tanjirou's thighs, but he can't because he'd probably be stopped by the others, and he hasn't exactly told the redhead how he feels about him, even though it's pretty obvious.

They end up sitting on their knees in the backyard; Aoi is surprised the only thing they have done yet is to stare at them openly and somehow Tanjirou hasn't noticed that his legs are quite popular among the Pillars at the moment.

Himejima, who's lucky enough to be sitting next to the sunshine himself, accidentally moves his hand and it brushes over Tanjirou's soft thigh.

"What exactly happened to your uniform?" The stone hashira asks, and Aoi is sure, mostly because of the way his face turns slightly pink, that he's trying to distract himself.

"The demon tore it, but he didn't hurt me," he mumbles, smiling at the Pillars.

"Oh my!" The love hashira suddenly says, lost in her own thoughts. "Your thighs are so, so thick, Tanjirou!"

"Uhh... thank you, Kanroji-san," the redhead replies, a bit confused.

"Did I just say that out loud?" She asks, mortified, as her lovely face turns into a deep shade of red.

"I'm afraid so, love," Iguro nods, patting her on the back gently. "But it's okay. We all are thinking about it."

"You seem to have trained a lot lately," Tomioka manages to comment, staring at Tanjirou's thighs. "I think you should keep doing that, maybe add a few squats every morning to help you get... stronger."

"I will! Thanks for the advice, Tomioka-san!"

The water hashira nods, still staring; Aoi is suddenly glad she can't read their minds.

Tokito gets closer to the redhead, briefly breaking the circle; Aoi knows he's about to say something thirsty because somehow he's the worst of them, if she doesn't count the sound hashira.

"Tanjirou, your thighs look heavy, let me carry them over my shoulders."

"You're so kind, Tokito-san, but I'm fine!"

"FUCK OFF!" Shinazugawa growls, yanking the other Pillar away from Tanjirou.

"You look hungry, my boy! I'll bring you some food!" The flame hashira smiles before quickly running to the kitchen and taking a few onigiri for the redhead.

"He's right, you should eat. You need food to keep them... I mean, you, healthy! To stay healthy!" Kocho blushes and stammers, to Aoi's utter shock.

When Tanjirou finishes his food, he excuses himself and tells them he's going to put on a new uniform, to everyone's disapointment.

"Tanjirou, wait," Uzui stops him, eyes roaming all over his body shamelessly. "I think you'd look great with one of my wives' outfits, they have told me they're really comfortable to fight with. Don't you wanna try one? I can buy you something like that."

"You don't have to!"

"It'd be my pleasure," the sound hashira smirks. "Please, try it for me."

"Okay!" Tanjirou agrees, smiling at the Pillar.

"But you should try it in front of everyone," Shinazugawa cuts in. "Just so we can judge if it really works for fighting."

"That's a great idea! Thank you!"

Great. Another day of this... now with a more revealing outfit. Fantastic. Aoi is already feeling another headache coming...

***

Patreon

[curly-fry-3]

hey curly would love to see dean's daughter and uncle sammy interact!! wholesome goodness galore please!!

𖦹Bad Day𖦹

summary𖦹 Sam helps you cheer up from a bad day

pairing𖦹 Sam Winchester x Niece!Reader

word count𖦹 1,066

notes𖦹 ok I totally nerded out in the last half sorry if you don't care about batman lol hope you like it

not proofread

You were having a bad day, and your uncle Sammy knew it. He knew it would be rough for you before you even woke up, Dean wasn't gonna be home in time for your “weekly shred bedrotting time”-as you liked to call it. In fact, your dad wasn't gonna be home till the next day, his hunt taking longer than expected. So, it was no surprise to Sam when you came home from school all dejected. 

When you walked through the door of the bunker you immediately put your bag down and slipped your shoes off, not caring if they were in the middle of the walkway. “Sammy” you call out searching for a response. When you're met with silence you head to the kitchen to find something sweet, what a year today has been. 

You have your head in the fridge when you hear movement behind you and turn around to find your uncle making his way into the room. “Hey sammy” you say while shutting the fridge behind you.

“Hey kid, how was school” Sam responds

You roll your eyes and huff in annoyance, “you know, the worst”

He smiles at your answer, “you know, I could think of a couple ways to make your day better”

You lean against the counter with a questioning look “What are you gonna do, cause I could really go for some pie right now” 

He smiles knowingly “Well it's not pie, but i got some cake and ice cream”

Your face lights up, “you better not be joking”

“Why would I joke about this? That would just be cruel” He asks “I also got out the DVDs, you can pick what movie we watch”

You jump up from your position against the counter in excitement “Omg girls night”

He crosses his arms and gives you a look of confusion “Girls night?”

“Shut up and accept it” Your expression shifts to a playful smirk “if it's girls night can I braid your hair”

Sam pauses for a second “what?”

“Pleeeasseeee” you beg “ it's so much easier to braid someone else's hair and yours is so soft and long” You eagerly explain

He pretends to think it over “fine” 

You clap your hands together in excitement “yay! Ok so you get the desert ready and i'll get the tv on and the hairbrush out”

He smiles fondly at your excitement then agrees to your plan with a nod. While you left to set up in the Dean cave, Sam got to work at plating your sweet treats. He also prepared some regular food cause he knew you would want something savory after. He was glad you were so excited and that he was able to lift your mood, that's the whole reason he planned this. Sam didn't want you to have such a bad week, he could tell that Dean's absence was taking its toll on you–usually you two were attached at the hip.  

When he walked into the Dean cave, balancing multiple plates in his arms, You were waiting for him with the TV already on. He hands you your cake, setting aside your dinner, and sits on the couch next to you, looking up at the TV. “Lego Batman?” He asks with a smile

You look at him with a fake hurt expression “it is a cinematic masterpiece. Also I'm literally batman.”

He chuckles lightly “you literally aren't”

“Oh really, you can test me on this, im literally him” You say while picking up your spoon to dig into your cake

He puts his hands up in defence “ wow you want me to test you ok….ummm…name five robins”

You roll your eyes “that's easy; Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Stephenie, and Duke. Boom that's more than five, it's all of them” you finish with triumphantly taking a bite

He smiles smugly “your forgot one”

You look at him confused “no I didn't” you say with a stuffed mouth.

“Bruce's clone” He corrects

You swallow your food “That totally doesn't count”

Sam shakes his head in disagreement “oh, it totally does”

You roll your eyes and start the movie, accepting that you won't win this one. He lightly smiles at your defeat and turns to watch the movie. Before you both could lock in to the TV you turn back to sam and say “you're a nerd, and i'm still batman”

He turns to you and smiles “ok”

After that you both were silent throughout the film. When you were done with your dessert you had moved on to the dinner Sam had brought, claiming that the cake was too sweet,  just as he suspected you would. When you were done eating you had cuddled closer to Sam on the couch for the remainder of the movie, your knees to your chest and your head on his shoulder as his arm wrapped around the back of the couch.

After the movie You decided it was time to do sams hair. You forced him to sit on the ground in front of the couch as you got to work, sitting on the firm cousins behind him. “Thanks for this sammy” You say while separating his hair into sections.

He tries to look back at you to respond but you force his head forward so you can continue working on his hair. “For what?” He asks.

“I know you planned this night for me cause Dad isn't here, it's really sweet and I really liked it so, thanks” You answer

“Of course kid…You know, I really liked it two–even though lego batman isn't comic accurate” He teases

You sigh and continue to work on his hair, “ok that gets me a little frustrated too but the humor and homoerratic relationship between the joker and batman makeup for that”

You can feel him roll his eyes as he responds “whatever you say”

The night ends with you and Sam asleep on the couch, his hair braided, the TV left on, And dirty dishes left out. When Dean comes home the next morning and finds the state that you two are in he takes a couple (dozen) photos before waking you up and leading you back to your bed. Dean was sad he wasn't able to see you yesterday but if it meant that he would find you and Sam cuddled up like that, he would be ok doing it again.

sorry if there are any typos

@areswasneverhere

[midnightshindig]

i love your work! could i request hc’s/drabbles for mark, cecil, and rex (separately) having unrequited feelings for the reader? take care of yourself!! 😊

Cecil, Mark, and Rex x Unrequited!Reader

ooooooo you guys are about that angsty shit

i fw it

hcs under the cut!

Cecil

Cecil is a PROFESSIONAL

he keeps his emotions tight and on LOCK

There isn't enough psychological torture in the world that would get him to admit his feelings for you

except maybe the torture of watching you subtly flirt with him

I mean come on, the way you wear your uniform tie a little loose, the way your stockings always have runs in them, you bring him his coffee with a bright smile reserved for him and nobody else.

The two of you have a rapport, engaging in witty banter during the rare downtime at the GDA

You're intelligent and hilarious with a strong sense of conviction, what's not to love?

And he's so certain you feel the same way

So when he asks you to dinner, like a gentleman, in all the correct ways, and you politely decline?

Oh he's hurt, for sure

but he's a professional. He deals with worse all the time.

So why is he still thinking about it?

Why does it sting when you inevitably start dating Anthony from HR

Why can't he bring himself to just forget about you?

your banter becomes stifled, and Cecil thinks he's losing touch just a little

It culminates when you request to transfer branches

He approves the request, of course

He is a professional, after all.

Mark

He's a dweeeeeeb when he has a crush

Like, he thinks he's so slick

talking to Rex about you while you're only across the GotG gym with headphones in

but you totally know

Still, he doesn't care, because you like him too

I mean, c'mon, he's a total catch, right?

He's literally Invincible, and he's also invincible, what's not to love?

He follows you around like a lost puppy, chatting you up about everything and anything.

"Did you in the 2018 adaptation of Sceance Dog-" Oh my god shut upppppp he's such a dork

but he's nice, and is always down to spot your weights

so you're content to be his friend, and this works for a while

Until Mark asks you to come over for dinner

which is fine! You love having dinner with Debbie and Oliver

but you get there and Debbie is putting Oliver in the car, apparently they're going to get dinner elsewhere? She leaves with a wink and a smile

you go inside to see Mark setting up a candlelit dinner

"Oh! You weren't supposed to be here yet-!" He cries, smacking his forehead

"What... is all this?"

"I was going to ask you out, but... I mean... do you want to go out with me?"

You turn him down as politely as you can, and quickly leave the house

Training at the gym is awkward after that

Mark can take a hint, he's not a jerk or a creep or anything

but the moment can't be undone

Rex

MUCH less subtle than the other two

been flirting with you since day one

and you thought he was JOKING

I mean no way he's sincerely that much of a dick (oh but he was.)

so you'd jokingly flirt back

and Rex was like, hell yeah, pretty little thing wants me back

lets go boys.

but it developes, and he REALLY likes you

like he wants to take you on a date

So with some encouragement from Mark, Rex dusts off a suit from the thrift store, nabs a bouquet of roses from someones garden, and is outside your dorm door

"Oh, hey Rexxx....." You trail off, taking in the scene before you

"Y/n! Hey! Uhm... look... I know it, you know it, let's stop dancing around it and go out already!" he presents you the bouquet, thorny and still wet and half-eaten by caterpillars

You don't even have the words

"I'm sorry.... What gave you the impression...? What?" you're so confused, and trying so hard not to hurt his feelings

but Rex is easily triggered, and his face burns red with embarrassment

He yanks the flowers back and laughs a fake laugh "HA hahahhhh.... You- You thought I was being serious!! Bwaahhaha!!!!" He laughs, holding his stomach cheesily, before straight up running away on foot

He doesn't talk to you for three weeks

and after that it's only short responses and quippy, albeit cutting remarks.

"Heyyyy Rex...." You approached cautiously "A bunch of us are gonna watch a movie, do you want to join?"

"I would, but then you'd get confused and think I was trying to make it a date!" He snapped back, running on the treadmill even faster

It would take some time, and a number of rebounds, but eventually he gets over you and things return to some semblance of normal

[witherby]

LW first crush??? Or first time being crushed on???

👉👈

I love it when the hive mind comes together 🤝

Listen, I took the general concept of what you guys are asking for and made this. It's 4100+ words. Don't look at me 🙈

Littlest Wayne: Piety

Masterlist is Here!

"True piety hath in it nothing weak, nothing sad, nothing constrained. It enlarges the heart; it is simple, free, and attractive." - Francois Fenelon

Growing up in a family of rich people moonlighting as vigilantes, you're more than used to chaos. Secret-keeping, combat training, socializing with the Gotham Elite, and helping your grandfather patch up one of your brothers or parents after patrol are some of the routine shenanigans you have to deal with on a regular basis, and you aren't even a vigilante yourself.

School is supposed to be your little slice of normalcy, where you can decompress as a civilian amongst other civilians. Just go to class, talk to your friends, and maybe participate in an extracurricular if you want! That's it! Nice and simple! You love it when things are nice and simple!

So the fact that a gang of arsonists are currently holding your class hostage during a field trip to Metropolis Conservatory and threatening to burn down everything and everyone inside, is really fucking annoying you!!

"Hi, dad," you mumble into your backup cellphone. The arsonists took everyone's phones when they raided the conservatory, but Bruce made you keep two on hand for this exact scenario. "Don't freak out. There's a —"

"I know." He sounds freaked out. You barely suppress a sigh. "It's on the news. Clark is off-world with Hal or you'd be safe by now. ETA is twenty minutes for me, and 17 for Jason. Are you hurt?"

"No," you whisper, "they haven't done anything yet. I'm in the Butterfly Garden with my —"

You quiet down when one of the men turns and makes eye contact with you. You hunch over and press your hands against your head as though frightened, but you're trying to keep your cellphone concealed.

Bruce calls your name, audibly stressed. You can hear his car picking up speed on the highway. You click your tongue to reassure him you're fine. When the man looks away again, you relax a bit.

"There's at least five of them," you whisper as softly as possible. "Probably more. The lighting isn't bright or dim enough to cast shadows in here."

Overcast days are your biggest pet peeve. The level of darkness required to manipulate shadows is lax, but for some reason, the very rare occasions in which a space is simultaneously too light and too dark make it impossible to use your ability. You can see shadows being cast on the floor. You can feel them, even. But they aren't solid enough to control. It's like trying to stop water from slipping through your fingers; it works for a minute until you inevitably watch it seep through the spaces in between.

"No talking!" One of the men barks. You exhale slowly and keep still.

"You're gonna be fine. Stay calm and do everything they ask of you," Bruce says. "I'm entering the city now, and Jason is thirteen minutes out. We'll be there as soon as possible."

You click your tongue again, then hang up and slip the phone up your jacket sleeve. You hug your waist and draw your knees up, scowling at the dirt underneath you like it's personally responsible for what's going on right now.

A dark hand reaches over to clutch your arm. You glance to your right to spot Chiffon, your best friend, frowning worriedly at you.

"You okay?" She mouths. You nod and place your hand over hers, giving it a quick squeeze.

"Are you?" You mouth back. She nods as well. She doesn't seem frightened so much as irritated. Chiffon told you on the bus ride over that she was wearing all new clothes for the field trip, and now the two of you are sitting on the ground with your other classmates so it's likely dirtying them up.

"Are ya done yet!? How long does it take to swap out a fucking flag..." One of the arsonists complains into a radio on his hip. "I'm gettin' itchy, man. I don't even care about the message anymore; I need to feel the heat. I need to see somethin' burn before some dumbass Meta shows up and ruins the fun. I'm about to just strike my matchbook!"

Oh, shit. That was good news and bad news. Good, because fire casts shadows you can manipulate. Bad, because the arsonists also have guns, and you might not be able to subdue them all before one gets a lucky shot off. You have a soft, squishy body and no kevlar to protect it right now, which your family routinely complains about every time you leave the house. The vindication on their faces after this is gonna suck hard.

"The flag's up!" The radio crackles. You and your classmates tense up. "Light this joint!"

The three arsonists in the butterfly room with you pick up the cans at their feet and start pouring the contents out. The sharp smell of gasoline hits your nose and your classmates start complaining and shouting at them to stop.

"You're not actually doing this, right!?"

"Oh my god...oh my god!"

"Hey! Burn down whatever building you want, but let us out first you psychos!!"

"I was gonna skip school today. I wish I had!"

"I don't wanna die!!"

One of the men takes out a gun and fires a round into the ceiling. Colors whip around you as the butterflies all take off in a flurry. There's some brief shrieking and screaming, which makes you cover your ears, but when he starts aiming at your classmates, everybody gets quiet real fast, nothing but quick breathing and wingbeats disturbing the peace.

"Good," he sneers. "Listen here, you little squealers: it's your very unlucky day today. We staked out this spot until we knew Superman wouldn't be here t'save the day, and that just so happened to coincide with your stupid field trip. We're sendin' a message to that alien freak to stop meddling in human affairs, and you all get the honor of contributing to that message."

"Who's ready to be martyrs!!" The second one shouts, splashing gasoline in yours and your classmates' direction.

You gasp and scramble to your feet when your arm and shoulder gets splashed. You tug Chiffon up and usher her behind you, scowling. Your temper flares, made worse by your current inability to stop any of this from happening, and despite your father's warnings you begin lashing out.

"That doesn't make any sense, dumbass!" You snap.

"The fuck'd you say?" The man growls. Your pulse jackknifes, heart hammering wildly in your chest, but you don't falter. "I asked you a question!!"

"Martyrs are killed for supporting a cause, not objecting to it. None of us want to be part of this! We're just here for a stupid field trip!"

Chiffon grips your wrist painfully tight, hissing at you to be quiet. You know you should listen to her, but if help doesn't come fast enough and you die, you're at least gonna die having fought back. You're gonna die having tried.

"Did I ask what you wanted, kid?" The man says, stepping so close that you feel like the gas fumes coming from his jerrican are getting you high. "Hmm? Did any of us say "oh, raise your hands if you don't wanna be hostages?" No, we didn't."

"Did any of you take a second to think "oh, maybe I don't wanna be child murderers today?" No, you didn't."

The arsonist snorts.

"I dunno. Sounds to me like you wanna be the kindling."

He reaches out and grabs your arm with more force than you anticipate, yanking you away from your group. You yelp in pain, instinctively lifting your fist to strike him in the neck. He chokes and coughs as you brutalize his Adams apple, but doesn't let go of your arm. Instead, he uses the hand holding the gas can to strike you back. It connects with your head, and when you blink, you're suddenly lying on the floor and your temple is throbbing.

Aw fuck, you think, vision blurred. It's so hard to tell up from down right now. You feel your clothes getting splashed with more gasoline. You hear your schoolmates screaming and shouting in terror for the inevitable. You see an indecipherable ocean of colors dancing around you, butterflies trying in vain to escape the fate you're all about to share. You hear someone strike a match.

Oh, please don't make my parents identify the remains. Please don't do that to them.

You close your eyes and try to steady the trembling in your limbs, hoping the pain doesn't last long.

The screaming reaches a crescendo, causing a sharp ringing in your ears. You flinch and press your hands to your head, just barely stifling a sob. There's a loud, crashing sound, and gunfire all around you. The ground reverberates when people start running, bolting in all directions, and you're unable to make yourself look at what's going on.

Heat licks at your side. The fire is spreading and the crackling drives a spike through your heart. You are deathly afraid. You want your parents. You want your brothers. You want your grandpa.

Something hits the ground beside you, right as you feel your sleeve catch fire, and you yelp when a pair of hands start to pat it out before it can spread.

"Hey, hey! It's okay! It's fine, look at me, you're okay!"

Relief makes your stiff limbs slacken, and you crack an eye open to find a stranger staring down at you. It's not your father, it's not Jason, and it's not one of your classmates.

It's...a boy wearing a Superman suit, but with a black, leather jacket thrown on top of it. He's looking at you with the widest, brightest blue eyes you've ever seen. They seem to become impossibly wider when he locks onto your own.

He's very handsome, your brain musters in between all the panic. Shiny black hair that was buzzed underneath and long at the top, clear, tanned skin, and near-effeminate facial features are the most eye-catching bits you pick up on.

He doesn't seem to be phased by the fire crackling around you, but you cannot say the same. When you try to breathe in, the hot smoke fills your lungs and you start coughing painfully, grimacing.

The boy frowns — you realize belatedly he'd been grinning before — and shrugs his jacket off. He drapes it gently on top of your head to block out the flames and smoke, then gets an arm under your back and behind your knees to lift you up.

"Hold on a second!" He says, and then you're suddenly outside and being laid down on the grass. The jacket is removed and your breathing gets much easier now that you're in the open air. He kneels next to you again, checking on your arm. "You okay?"

You give him a jerky nod and a thumbs up. You don't recognize this Meta. Did uncle Clark have a kid and forget to tell anybody? It wouldn't be the first time, like when he got engaged to Lois a couple years back and realized he'd neglected to send out any wedding invitations.

This boy looks your age, though. How would Clark have avoided bringing him up for so many years, even in passing?

"Who are you?" You mumble, voice still slightly hoarse from the smoke inhalation. The conservatory is quickly being consumed by flames, if the steadily brightening orange and red in your periphery is anything to go by. You hear sirens quickly approaching in the distance, and wonder where the arsonists went. You wonder where your classmates are, too. Did everyone make it out?

The boy smiles at you again, wide and proud, and gestures to the symbol on his chest.

"I'm Superman. You and your school buddies are safe now, I promise."

"Oh," you say, and wonder if the hit to your head is affecting you worse than you thought, because you are definitely not looking at Superman.

--

When Conner opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is Lex Luthor. He recognizes him immediately, instinctively, despite never having met before now.

"Can you hear me?" Lex asks. Conner nods his head. The motion is new. It feels practiced. The dichotomy is throwing him for a loop as he steps out of the capsule he'd spent weeks growing in. His eyes dart around the space, taking in the other staff members present in the lab. Some of their names and faces click together like scattered puzzle pieces in his mind, while others are strangers he holds no information about.

He knows these people. They've just been introduced this very second. He feels helpless. He feels his immense powers buzzing under his skin.

Lex is talking, and Conner listens. Conner is an experiment. Conner is the result of years of work and programming. Conner is a success in a long line of failures.

He would have had siblings if they'd survived. He wouldn't be alone in these warring sensations and feelings. He would've had someone to relate to.

Conner is a success, but he woke up early. Didn't age enough. Conner is less than an hour old, but he's physically a teenager. He is supposed to be older. He is supposed to be bigger. He needs to be better than Superman. He's a success, but there is more work to be done.

His brain is packed full of theoretical knowledge with no practice. He knows what he can do but not how to do it. How to fly. How to control his super strength. How to shoot lasers from his eyes. How to summon ice breath. How to block out the overwhelming inputs to his brand new senses.

Lex is talking, and Conner listens. He gets coached through handling himself and reigning in his power. It's clinical and professional. He practices in another part of the lab for days. He does not learn how to speak for a week. No one had noticed beforehand.

Superman got years to do this. Superman got to grow into his body, not have it be grown for him and his consciousness injected into it. Superman got to take his time to become great. Conner does not have that time. He's told he doesn't need it.

Conner succeeds, because he is the better Superman as he was made to be. He is praised for his quick adaptiveness and brilliant control. He wishes he knew what a hug felt like.

He's given a suit and has to learn how to put it on. He's got knowledge of what he is and what he can do and who he is supposed to be, but they did not think to implant in him the knowledge of dressing or hygiene or socialization. He's got all the skills of a person with none of the experience. He's an egg shell walking on egg shells.

Lex is talking, and Conner listens. He's told that he is ready for action. Superman is not around to stop a crisis from occurring right now, so he must take charge and show Metropolis that a new hero has emerged. One that is reliable and mighty and belongs to this planet.

Conner is a hero. He is reliable and mighty and belongs to this planet.

"Make me proud, son," Lex Luthor tells him, flashing his teeth in a wide smile as he pats Conner's shoulder.

Conner grins back. He will not disappoint. He was made to do this. He is Superman. A better Superman. He is Metropolis' hero.

He knows the way to the Metropolis Conservatory, despite never having been there before. The layout of the city is implanted in his mind. He knows it like the back of his hand.

Nevermind that he's only known the back of his hand for all of three weeks.

He does not fly as quickly to the Conservatory as he's capable. The sensation of wind against his face is so new it stuns him in the air for a minute. The warmth of the sun against his body is so comforting that he learns how to cry in that same, stunned minute. The speed at which he flies dries any tears he might shed, and the excitement of getting to help save his city prevents an overload.

He sees the defaced American flag as he approaches, turned upside down and half-burnt, and the anti-alien flag hanging proudly right above it. He uses x-ray vision to spot the ten arsonists scattered amongst the Conservatory. He sees the class of students corralled into the butterfly garden, with one brave and impulsive soul daring to take a stand.

He knows he's impervious to flames, which gives him the confidence to swoop in and rescue everyone trapped inside the building. Only the three arsonists holding the students hostage need any medical attention ("Grip strength, Conner, we've been over this. You need to work on your grip strength!") due to how roughly he'd pulled them out of there. The rest, he's able to collect and deposit in a little pile of bodies, taking the rope off of the flag pole to tie them all up together.

Then he goes back for the civilians. The building is quickly evacuated and everybody moved to the large lawn behind the conservatory. He leaves the building to burn — he can hear firetruck sirens going off in the distance, piercing his ears and making his breathing quicken. He could use more practice tuning out the overwhelming sounds of everyday life. He will ask Lex to help him hone the skill.

There is one more civilian to rescue. He can see minor injuries on their body he doesn't want to exacerbate. When he kneels next to them to pat out the fire, he is as gentle as he can physically be. They're trembling and shaking from fear, and he musters up the words to console them.

This will be the very first person he's spoken to outside of the lab. He cannot afford to feel shy, despite the novelty of the emotion.

"Hey, hey! It's okay! It's fine, look at me, you're okay!"

And they do. You do. You open your eyes and ensnare him with your gaze.

Something deep, very deep inside him, clicks together, and the world becomes quiet.

There is nothing else.

There is no one else.

The only thing he can see is you. The only thing he can hear is you. The only thing he can feel is you.

Conner's world shifts so fundamentally to accommodate you, it's like he's never known anything else.

He is not Metropolis' hero. He is your hero. He is your anything. He is your everything. All you need to do is ask it, and he'll make it happen. Conner cannot live the rest of his pitifully short life without you. He simply won't survive.

Your mouth opens to reply to him. He leans forward, beaming, eager to hear the sound of your voice like a dog to his master's key turning in the door.

You start coughing. The rest of his senses kick back online, and he remembers that you are in a burning building that nearly burned you with it. He can hear your lungs straining against the smokey air, and that won't do at all.

"Hold on a second!" He says, removing his jacket to cover your face and mouth from the worst of the fire. When Conner gets his arms around you to take you to safety, his whole body seems to zing where you make contact. You fit against him perfectly. He memorizes your weight and warmth as he flies out of the conservatory.

Out in the daylight, under the bright sky, you are somehow even more stunning. The sight of your eyes shining under the light when he uncovers your face sears itself into his memory. It's a fight against his every instinct to stop cradling you and just sit in the grass (and isn't it something, that he's never felt how soft grass is and doesn't care in comparison to your presence) and admire you.

"You okay?" He asks, instead of "Do you feel this, too? Do I create the same, soft weight in your chest like you have in mine? Do you feel like we belong to one another?"

You nod and give him a thumbs up. It's better than any praise Lex and the other lab assistants have ever given him. He memorizes the shape of your thumbprint at just a glance and wonders if Lex will give him a pen and paper later so he can draw it.

"Who are you?"

You're talking to him. You're talking to him. You asked him a question and you're talking to him. Every word crashes into his ears like waves against the shore, and he almost drowns in it.

There's a brief war in his mind. He wants to hear you say his name. He wants to know what the word sounds like on your lips. He also knows that this is his debut as the next superhero. He needs to leave a good impression. He needs you to like him. He grins and points to the sign of Hope on his chest, because he was made to be —

"I'm Superman. You and your school buddies are safe now, I promise."

He clocks your obvious confusion, but it doesn't hurt his feelings. He is, after all, claiming someone else's title. The Superman you know is not the best one for you. Lex taught him that. Conner just needs to prove that he deserves to take that name, that he is worthy of the same accolades and respect that the alien predecessor is getting.

After all, the alien isn't the one that saved the day today. Conner is.

"Let's get you to a medic, okay?" He says, offering his arms to you, palms up. You glance around, then nod, and he's got you cradled in his chest again.

The knowledge of what uniforms a first responder would wear is already embedded in his mind. It helps him locate the proper people to hand you off to when the cacophony of colorful clothing and swarming bodies threaten to overwhelm him. He can pick out police, who are busy untying and detaining the arsonists. He can pick out firemen, who are hooking up hoses to extinguish the roaring flames. He can pick out journalists, who seem eager to talk to him after what he's just done.

More people to talk to. More socializing to be done. He spares you one last glance, memorizing the exact shade of your eye color with a fond smile, then focuses up to finish the job. He's got to make Lex proud. He's got to let the city know that a new player's stepped onto the board. He hopes you'll watch his interview segment.

In the aftermath, when all is said and done and he returns to LexCorp to report to Luthor, he realizes he doesn't know your name.

Late in the evening, after going over everything he did right and wrong, after more training, after honing his body even further to become the better Superman, he lies in his cot and tunes into the world, instead of tuning it out.

He listens, and listens, and listens.

He catches it. Your voice, not in Metropolis but its sister-city beyond the water. Gotham, if his implanted memory serves.

You're talking to your family, who sound like they're dressed to leave somewhere while you remain behind. He listens to them exit your home, one by one. He listens to you walking around different textured rooms. Hardwood. Carpet. Linoleum. He listens to you climb into bed and open a book, turning the page approximately every minute and thirty-two seconds. He listens to the rhythm of your breathing and matches his own to follow. He listens to your heartbeat, strong and steady in your chest, because he saved your life today.

Conner inhales when you inhale. He exhales when you exhale. He repeats this action until you eventually bookmark your place and settle down to sleep, then matches his breathing to your new, sleeping pace. This continues for hours, that deep, instinctual part of him just barely sated by listening to you from so far away.

He needs to meet you again. Properly, as Conner and...

Conner frowns.

He has to learn your name.

The next morning, he asks Lex if Gotham needs a Superman, too.

[haysaca]

Rivalry yuri consumes op's brain

I finally reached the anticipated Willorine reunion and felt like I needed to dedicate an entire ramble for this cuz even tho I'm SURE this isn't their gayest interaction there was so much buildup to this chapter- Caroline's initial intro, asking Toof to help, Willow's reaction to Toof namedropping her, that darn cliffhanger from the previous chap, HELL EVEN THE DESCRIPTION IS RAISING EXPECTATIONS

It definitely delivered. Witness my descent to madness.

This entire chapter is very much filled with "exes who still want each other" energy and dialogues that you don't even need shipping goggles to see the palpable subtext and Flutterpage (bless her) BEING THE BEST WINGWOMAN EVER.

LIKE UGHHH Willow is trying so hard to ignore her then Flutterpage goes "She's still there" 🥹 she's such a sweetie

Then Willow was skeptical that she'd come all the way there just to see her only for Caroline to say "I do miss you actually,"

SHE AINT EVEN DENYING SHE WANTS THAT COOKIE BADLY

Then she goddamn goes

THATS BASICALLY RIVAL SPEAK FOR "I still love you, do you?" 🙄🙄🙄 That's her entire reason for coming there btw, she legit just came there not just because she misses Willow, but because she misses her DESPERATELY.

THEN WILLOW REPLIES WITH

Translation: "You deserve someone better" like SUREEE in the context of the scene she's insulted that Caroline thinks it'd be a fair challenge given her condition (tho it's pretty endearing she thinks Willow can still keep up) but STILL a part of her self-loathing is thinking she doesn't deserve to be in the spotlight with her rival anymore nor can she even do that because she doubts she'll be able to with a handicap.

BUT OHHHH IT IS NOT OVER YET CUZ GAYORINE BARTLEY IS COMING IN WITH THE

Translation: "Bitch even then, I still want you" THEY ARE MAKING ME BASH MY HEAD Willow pushing her away saying she doesn't have anything to her liking only for Caroline to snatch a random cup (I refuse to believe it had actual tea in it, girl is drinking invisible air) and saying she liked what she had just fine (she doesn't care if Willow's changed, she likes her all the same) AAAAUUUUUUUGJHJ.

THESE BITCHES ARE IN A YEARNING COMPETITION TO SEE WHO PINES HARDER AND FLUTTERPAGE (bless her) IS THE WITNESS!!

I like to think that Caroline's reaction to Willow pointing out the flaws in her ribbon technique was a mixture of emotions, joy that she's still sharp enough in the sports to notice, pride in managing to impress her slightly, and annoyance that she has the gall to call her lazy when she's probably trained more actively and properly than her in the last decade.

Anyways Caroline won the yearning contest cuz Willow was the first to push away.

I think it's pretty interesting how Willow was still trying to help her even when she's pointing out her flaws, albeit the advice is heavily laced with condescending arrogance that she probably knew would anger Caroline.

That seemed pretty intentional too, as she decided to taunt Caroline when it was clear she was going to walk away, even being calm and smiling after it pissed her off. If she hadn't, this encounter would've ended pretty friendly and even pleasant, Caroline would've probably come back some other day to try convincing her again.

But whether or not she knew that doesn't really matter, Willow wanted to push her away all the same, and unfortunately she knew all the right buttons to hurt Caroline's pride.

AUGHHHHHH on second thought a part of her self-loathing was probably thinking Caroline's fixation on her and her techniques would only hinder her growth and prevent her from becoming the star she wants to be 🥹

OR WHO KNOWS MAYBE IM JUST DELUSIONAL 😭😭😭

Wugh whatever. Willow is a character so full of angst and self-loathing and I'm so glad to see the story exploring how it's affecting her and the people close to her pretty thoroughly.

Anyways, patch is peak and I haven't even reached the major conflict, genuinely looking forward to how things go because I KNOW shit gets gayer between these two.

Thanks for reading!

[bakugo-reader-yn]

trigger warning: mention of abuse

✨️ Twinkling Stars ✨️

Part 4:

"Damn it!! Why would you close the door?!" Shoto was panicking outside her door. Other classmates also came by worried about her.

"Todoroki, what happened with her man?" Kirishima asked him with worry and helplessness in his voice.

"Mom just wanted to scold and humiliate her. She wanted her to stay away from me. Her frustration grew so much that she slapped y/n. It's all my fault!!" After a pause, he burst out again, "and why would he go in?! Has he lost his mind?!!"

"Bakugo?" Kirishima was surprised for a mere second.

"Who else? He doesn't know how to talk or behave. I don't want him around my sister right now."

"Hey, calm down." Kaminari put his hand around shoto's shoulder to calm him down, and continued "he never shouts on her."

"Yeah man, he is really good friends with her. They talk for hours even after classes and they are often together" Kirishima added.

"Yes, I've seen it too. It felt very weird at first. But it was really genuine. I even started to think they're together or something. " Mina said with a mischievous grin.

"Mina!!" Momo whispered in her ear, "he's her brother, I don't think it's proper to say that in front of him." Mina quieted down.

"Everyone quiet 🤫 , I want to hear it." Kaminari pressed his ears to the door, shoto followed his actions, then Mina and Kirishima also joined. Sero and IIda were trying to fit in too. Those with conscience tried to stop them.

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

"Why are you crying so much? Your eyes are so puffy." Bakugo's concers were growing more and more. He removed her curly hair from her face and was shocked to his core. His eyes bulged for a second, and he grew furious.

Without thinking, his hands moved and cupped her face. Y/n was startled, and her eyes grew bigger. "Who hit you?" his voice was not calm. It was stern and raw. Y/n never heard him talk like this before.

"Tell me."

"Why does it matter?"

"Huh?"

"I'm a hero, I'm injured all the time."

"Y/n" he paused and looked at her with fury in his eyes, "getting hurt, and this is completely different. You know how??"

"I don't want to talk about it." Tears rolled down her cheeks again. "I will never be worthy of love or respect. People will always look at me as a villain's daughter. No matter how hard I try, I'll never be good enough. I've always been alone, no family, no friends, nothing and I'll always be this way. You should also stay away from me. Go!! Leave!!" Y/n sobbed uncontrollably until her face was red and her voice hoarse.

"You're not alone." Bakugo stroked her hair out of her face and placed his hands on the back side of her neck. He got so close to her in a beat that she stopped crying due to shock. She blinked at him a few times. "You have a family, friends, everything. If the todoroki's don't accept you, it will be fine because you've already made a new family. You might think that no one cares for your but, I know and you know it too, that there are people standing outside the door waiting to comfort you and talk to you. It's hurtful that you don't see them, that you don't see me."

He gently wiped her tears from his shirt sleeve, "You'll ruin your shirt." She pouted.

"Guess I already did." He smiled. She looked at him, and tears rolled down her cheeks, "Don't cry ag..." Before bakugo can finish, y/n hugged him tightly, her tear strained face buried in his chest, her muffled voice reached him, "thank you, Katsuki. "

Bakugo's cheeks grew pink, her small body crushed into him, her tiny voice calling his first name made him blush. With little hesitation, he hugged her back, pulling her closer to him.

After what felt like eternity, she pulled away. "Oh, I ruined your shirt even more." This time, bakugo laughed, a warm, bubbly laughter. It relaxed her heart.

"Wash up and come downstairs, I've cooked dinner."

"You did?" Bakugo just rolled his eyes and moved towards the door, "I'm waiting."

To be continued: Part 5

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

[ihaznoclue]

Hello! Lemme say firstly that I love your stuff! Can I request Nicole, Anby, and Belle with a shy gn Reader who doesnt know that they’re Hollow Raiders/Phaethon and is usually carefree, but when they find out about their secret they start to worry about them a lot?

Thank you ❤️

Pairings -> Nicole Demara, Anby Demara, Belle x Reader

Warnings -> None

Note -> Reader doesn't know that their girlfriend is a hollow raider but when they find out they start to worry about them

Genre -> Fluff

Nicole Demara

Nicole would be so secretive about this because she knows how you worry so much about her

Nicole literally fell in love with because of that, caring for her so much that It makes her heart melt

But she doesn't want you knowing that she is a hollow raider

But if you did, instantly sobbing about it to her

You would immediately try to find her out on Sixth street after meeting with Belle and Wise for their next mission

Nicole would happily greet you but then be interrupted with your sudden hug

"Woah hey what's up?"

"You didn't tell me you were a hollow raider" You whined

Nicole would start to sweat as she would try to calm you down as everyone is now staring

"Oh Hun, please don't cry"

"But.. but you said you were going to not get into trouble, Are you hurt?!"

"No, No I'm fine. Let's just go somewhere more Private"

Anby Demara

Anby is a very non-verbal girl in my opinion

So it's quite easy for her to keep this whole hollow raider a secert

But not until you heard from Billy about going into a hollow for a mission

Which made you connect the pieces together

That's why she is always offline when you text her

That's why she always checks her phone and then tells you she'll be right back

THAT'S WHY SHE WAS HURT THE OTHER DAY

Anby kept this a secret from you?

Why and when did this start happening?

Why hasn't she told you this?

Was because of you that she doesn't want to tell you?

You had so many thoughts in mind at once so you decided to confront Anby about this

Billy wasn't even aware that you were there with him at that moment but later he is so gonna regret it

"Anby may we talk?"

Anby was simply eating a burger as she nodded

"Um, You know you can tell me anything right?"

She nodded again

"Then why didn't you tell me that you were a hollow raider" You then started to whine

Anby was confused on how you knew this information but immediately turned to Billy which causes him to shiver in fear

Belle

Belle is always busy at some time that she has to cancel your plans for that day

You thought it was only because her and her brother wise were running a video game store but you never knew the real reason until now

You decided to visit Belle, well a surprise visit

You didn't message her about you coming over

Once you finally arrived at the store, you opened the door

You didn't seem to see Belle or Wise, maybe they were upstairs so you quickly went up

Wise's door was closed so that means he's in his room but Belle's is open

Where could she be?

You then went downstairs as you turned to your left to see the staff only door

You heard a familiar voice which was Belle which caused you to smile

You were gonna surprise her

Slowly you opened the door, your eyes seeing the TV and couch but as you opened the door more wider

You saw it

Belle was Phaethon!?

The door then went all the way open as it knocked onto he wall behind it causing Belle to turn as she thought it was Wise

"Name!? Since when did you get here?!"

"You are the Phaethon!? Belle why didn't you tell me!?"

"Ah-.. Oh God"

-A<3

[muutos]

"ROWAN --" loghain's coarse voice is curt, and sharp as it insistently cuts through the burning hot air that veils them within the thin walls of her tent. his chest is heaving, as he lies above her broad yet exceedingly lovely form. strong fingers wrapping about her wrist, as her insistent ones creep below his belt-line, and form around the shape of his indiscriminate arousal... ultimately halting their actions before they can go any further, with a pinched jaw and regretful curl of his upper lip as he stares down at her mortified eyes.. slowly morphing into those of understanding, when she nods at him, and both of their grips ease in tandem. "i... can't do this..." he says grimly, looking away, and she nods. "i understand." she tells him. and loghain, like always, knew that she did. they had both known what this was. and perhaps she had meant it, when she'd said that she no longer wanted maric. perhaps she never truly had. perhaps she had simply yearned for a future not destined for a loveless marriage. something loghain can hardly fault her for.

loghain hadn't remembered when he'd started crying. he hadn't even cried when he'd watched his father die, in that clearing. but when rowan had inevitably clutched his cheek, he was as surprised as she was to find tears had been clasped between their flesh. a flash of shame crossed his unsettling eyes amidst that confusion, as her breath hitched.. and he could not keep himself from surging forth in the midst of all of his overwhelming hurt, and anger, and kiss her.

it isn't as if loghain hadn't been attracted to her. he is, undoubtedly. rowan is a skilled warrior. one whom had almost bested him in single combat. partial to her wild curls, which he still remembered falling carelessly from her green-plumed helmet that day. she had broad, strong shoulders, and toned arms that could knock a man clean off his mount, when she had half a mind. she wasn't like most nobles. or, most women, in general. and loghain hadn't lied when he'd told her that she looked beautiful in the dress she wore, no matter the opinion of others.. she was a fine woman, it was true. but he did not love her. loghain is naught but an off-leash mabari war hound, helplessly loyal and imprinted to maric. always at his side, and snarling in wait to sink his teeth into anyone who so much as threatened him.

loghain crawled off of rowan, reluctantly, and she cleared her throat and gathered her raised silk skirts. both their faces were red from exertion, and the guilt-ridden shame, and they both sit silently at the edge of her bed, for a time. "you love him, don't you." rowan says, but it doesn't sound like a question, and loghain's pensive expression deepens. he does not answer her question. "i'm sorry, rowan." he says instead, "you didn't deserve this." he was surprisingly earnest, and his voice was eerily quiet. rowan shook her head, and loghain looks at her once she spoke. again, understanding one another almost wordlessly. "no, i did. and i agree with you. [...] i think in a way, we were both doing the same thing." she starts. "we were being selfish." loghain winced, but nodded. "i should go." he tells her, when normally he would silently move away. a tentative hand raising, and placing fingers once more to her rounded cheek. leaning forth to press a soft kiss to the one opposite.. and with a nod, and a visible clench of his jaw, stands and leaves her tent.

loghain knows what he has to do.. and if he wanted to do it in time, he had to start now.

[...]

the town of gwaren is still quiet, as loghain walks briskly towards the stables. the twilight's dew covered grass creating a pleasant smell in the air that mingles with the wet stone of the manor atop the hill, that loghain is entirely partial to.. as his early rising has always been a common occurrence. he had needed to wait for a maid to make her sleep-ridden appearance, in order to procure some of the items he'd needed for his journey.. even despite not yet knowing how long said journey would be. already surmising that once he arrived back to the old camp, and did what he had to do there... there was nowhere else for him to go. not quite belonging anywhere, it seemed. and the one place he had, he'd been spurned from. such worse than an unpaid tax on his family home. no four walls having comforted him as much as maric's presence.

but he had to let him go.

and this particular morning, loghain found no pleasure in the smells, nor the early-morning chatter of the rebel camp, post-victory. everything was quiet, and by all means, should be almost comforting. the smells, the sleepiness of the stables and the soft breathing of the horses.. loghain was even wearing his old, studded leathers, fitting almost like a second skin. longbow slung over his shoulder as he lead a beautiful beast from his pen... but his jaw still ached with how long it's been pinched, and the saddle-bags full of his lieutenant's cloak, meagre camping gear, and other such supplies lying on the ground at the war-horse's hooves, were a grim reminder of the way his skin rippled with the regret that he wilfully pushed down. the way the lingering pain made his fingers tremble despite the sternness in the manner of which he saddles the horse. like if he had simply put the intent behind his actions, they would suddenly feel like the right thing to do.... like he had told himself it had been, whenever that doubt crept up the column of his strong throat. do we refuse to accept the solution because it doesn't suit us? he doesn't want me, loghain says to himself. he's made that abundantly clear.

no. normally loghain wouldn't simply leave. he wouldn't shy away, and be cowardly. and while he should indeed have words for maric, and perhaps did, at one time -- he can't see why that would matter, now. not to mention that if he had gone to talk with maric, loghain knew - that somehow, those big, sad eyes would have convinced him against all sense and rationality, to stay. why when he hears those angry steps that are immediately identified as maric's, even despite the differed gait due to injury, loghain hisses inwardly.. chin lowering with a visible grimace only to the ground, as his teeth wound so harshly that his lip jumped. growling, under his breath.

loghain would have given everything to be maric's. he'd bled, already. laid his life at his feet, before he'd even pressed his lips like a promise of eternal loyalty, against his. he would have died for him. should have, died for him. and he too, would rend his heart from within his ribcage and lay it at maric's feet. and in terms of loghain and his cursedly internal emotional state, stunted and twisted by decades of haunting, he arguably already has. but maric did not want it. maric had shoved it back inside his open chest, and expected it to still beat as it once had.

he couldn't do this. he couldn't face him... hardly able to give a half turn to look at him contritely, noting his rushed appearance and flushed face of raw anger. turning away too-soon to realize it was hollow as loghain felt. but why? loghain asked himself. you've made your choice. if you wanted me, you never would have entertained her. katriel. it hurts to so much as think her name, and he realizes he hadn't until now. but maric's internal 'please don't leave' is met with an internal 'then prove me wrong'.

he focuses on tying the saddle, buckling it while he feels the bile rise up the length of his esophagus. loghain wincing in pure discomfort and undeserved guilt at the way maric's choked, desperate laugh hits his ears. his entire face hurts with the way he scowls, upper lip trembling now in the ache, but he cannot stop himself. exasperatingly finishing the saddling of his war-horse with a harsh tug, and still hesitating the act of finally turning to face this head-on. coward. you're a coward. "yes, i'm leaving." he states, harsh. finally spinning on maric with a flare of anger in his widened, iced eyes. loghain is still all ground teeth and trembling face, and he almost looks terrifying. "and i should have done it a long time ago." the words feel like daggers suddenly turned and jabbed into his own windpipe. feeling empty of intent, despite the emotion hissed into them like snake venom. seething with all the pain he held onto like a knot tied tight in his chest, finally let loose. "i said i would bring you back to your army, and i did. but now, it's time for me to go." he continues. he has to bring himself back to how he'd felt, before. like they'd never progressed past that point of their relationship where maric was another problem, and loghain was his reluctant protector. his chest was heaving, and he shook his head. uttering the most honest thing he's said since maric had arrived. painful to even have to look at him directly in the eye, as he does. "you don't need me, anymore." you've made that abundantly clear.

❝ KATRIEL — ❞ ALTHOUGH AROUSED BY KATRIEL'S MOUTH, by Katriel's moaning at anxious hands by hips, it isn't lust with which Maric says the woman's name. Katriel is beautiful, with blonde hair a halo, with a dress sleeve, a pristine white cotton, slipping off of a pale shoulder where blonde hair curls. Katriel is beautiful. But Maric's heart, painfully aching, belongs to another. ❝ — I CAN'T. ❞ Maric's heart belongs to another. He would break into his chest cavity and rib cage to rend his heart from his body for Loghain, a bleeding proclamation of love and devotion, but is that what Loghain wants? Would Loghain want Maric's bleeding heart, or would Loghain be horrified? It is horrifying, isn't it?

It's with horror, too, and a face flushed with embarrassment and mortification that Katriel says, now sitting at the edge of Maric's bed, ❝ I am so sorry, my lord. Maker forgive me if I was forcible! ❞

And Maric smiles, an aching pain of sympathy in the heart. ❝ You weren't forcible, Katriel, please. I find myself attracted to you, to be perfectly honest. ❞ And perfectly honest, Maric is. How would he not be attracted to Katriel? And for Katriel to be attracted to him — it's a satisfaction he would be remiss to part with, as selfish as it. My affections lie with another, dies in Maric's throat, then, but it isn't as though Katriel must be privy to who Maric's affections lie with, or that Maric's affections lie with another at all. ❝ But I would absolutely be taking advantage of you and your position. I know you said I wouldn't be, but I believe I would. ❞ Maric's smiling wryly. ❝ I'm also in no shape to, well, attend to a woman, you know. ❞ Katriel's smiling, now, too. ❝ Plus, I would like to learn more about who you are! You're a lovely person, Katriel. Could you, perhaps, tell me about yourself tonight instead? And I'll tell you all about who I am! ❞

Katriel's smile is softer, surprised, too, although twisting and twitching with what seems to be — sadness. ❝ Yes, I would like that ... ❞

[ ... ]

Maric and Katriel converse for an hour before Maric begins to be lulled by the soft, sing song of Katriel's voice. ❝ You could be a bard with your voice, Katriel, ❞ Maric says tiredly, not noticing how Katriel blanches at that, how Katriel's soft, sing song voice trembles with, Thank you, my lord. She shushes him, then, and says to him that he should sleep, so he sleeps, and he sleeps soundly. And it's roughly an hour before sunrise that he rouses for the second time to the chattering of soldiers — the same soldiers from the night before, he realizes, recognizing their voices. There's a harsher ache in his side, now, where the night before's dull ache was. He lies there, then, and listens, lulled, again, by their laughter.

I was saying — Oh, is that Loghain again? Maric's piqued by that, eyes open, ears pricked. Where do you reckon the lad's off to?

It's the woman, now, saying, with an armored, clinking, shrug that Maric can hear, Where? I don't know. He could be scouting, although I don't know why he would be.

He's hauling an awful lot to be scouting.

You think he's leaving, then?

Aye, I do. A damned shame, if it's true. The lad's talented.

Stitches and bandages straining, Maric's standing in a hurry and pulling on a pair of pants — and a shirt, too, for modesty — before pushes through the tent, to the surprise of the bystanders. Prince Maric? Are you all right? But Maric doesn't stop. But Maric can't stop, not with thoughts a hundred miles an hour a minute. Loghain is leaving. Loghain is leaving. Why? They hadn't had words since before the assault against the city, but they were on the same page, weren't they? Is Loghain having second thoughts? But Loghain wouldn't simply leave. Loghain, not a man to shy away and be cowardly, would confront Maric. Loghain would have words for Maric! Loghain should have words for Maric. But Loghain is leaving without saying a word, and Maric's heart is seized painfully by panic and horror.

Loading a horse's saddlebags — one of the larger warhorses with a dark coat — in the stables is Loghain, and rending in half is Maric's aching heart. It's the truth, then, that Loghain would have left without so much as a word to Maric, had Maric not hobbled to the stables in time. Why? If Loghain is angry with him, why wouldn't he say so? If Loghain hates him, why wouldn't he say so? Why wouldn't he say something? Anything at all would suffice! But Loghain is silent, staring at Maric with an unidentifiable look, and so is Maric, breathing hard and staring back at Loghain with a look surely identifiable as the anger and the sadness of betrayal.

Maric would break into his chest cavity and rib cage to rend his heart from his body for Loghain, a bleeding proclamation of love and devotion, but that isn't what Loghain wants. Loghain doesn't want him. To leave with such cowardice and without saying a word, Loghain didn't want him at all — not then, and certainly not now. And as much as he pretends that he's angry, teeth bared and breathing hard through his nose, all that's there, truly, is a nauseating pain and pricking tears. Please don't leave. Please don't leave. Please don't leave.

Maric remembers the night before, remembers Katriel, remembers the soldiers there. Had they heard? Had they told Loghain? Why would they tell Loghain? And Maric hadn't — Maric hadn't slept with Katriel, nor did he want to. And where was Loghain? He'd been waiting for him. Why wasn't he there? Did he not want to be there? Maric assumes that Loghain didn't want to be there, and Loghain's actions now surely indicate that. ( Did Loghain hear? No. Surely not. Surely not. ) Maker, he's sick, head spinning, side aching and stitches surely torn.

❝ You're leaving. ❞ Maric says, breathing in a sharp breath. Please don't leave. Please don't leave. Please don't leave. ❝ Why? I don't — ❞ He laughs pitifully, hands trembling, and wincing in pain and at the sensation of sweat and blood trickling down his surely pale side. ❝ I don't understand. You're not due to ride anywhere, and you're packing too much for that, anyway. ❞

Please don't leave.

[normaltothemax]

@ironifiicd from here

“Oh, yeah, I’ll just call up Captain America to get your phone number, shall I?” He’s well aware he could probably get it from Stark himself, at this point, but if he wasn’t giving someone a hard time, he wouldn’t be Jason Peter Todd. “Gotta say, your AI really takes the fun out of breaking in. She’s cool as hell, don’t get me wrong, but she could’ve at least let me pretend you didn’t know I was here.”

The lights turn on, revealing his Red Hood helmet to be sitting on the coffee table, leather jacket laying over the arm rest, though he’s still wearing the rest of his gear, including the red domino mask. There’s probably not much point in wearing it anymore, at this point—it’s not like Stark can actually connect him back to any identity other than the alias he’s been going by, Todd Peters; Jason doesn’t exist here—but old habits die hard.

“Uhh…” Jason’s pretty sure he’s never actually had a martini. Isn’t sure he knows off the top of his head what’s in it. Gin, maybe? “I’m usually more of a beer guy. Or whiskey, if I’m doing the hard stuff.” He’s also a fan of the fruity cocktails, but he’s not brining that up, right now. “Martini’s, what, gin?”

[iilmunchkiin]

Just saw an absolutely amazing post that convinced me that Ceroba would be the one who confesses first.

(op turned turned off reblogs unfortunately so I'm making this post (┬┬﹏┬┬)) ("Just put the link to the post here-" No, you absolute buffoon, they turned it off for a reason and I'm going to respect that) (also potential rambling?? again??) (future LM here, yep there is alot of rambling. this was supposed to be a character analysis but I accidentally made a fic halfway LMAOAOAOAOAOA )

god I'm a sucker for slow burn and angst (duh, you all know that) I used to think that Starlo wouldn't be able to take it anymore and finally get the balls to confess to her, he goes up to her and it'll be the usual cheesy but wholesome moment with him nervously laughing, Ceroba getting surprised so she turns away while brushing off some hair that got on her face, Starlo sheepishly rubbing the back of his head and stuttering to get the words out. It'll all be planned of course he's a gentleman, he's just so stupidly nice and understanding that if Ceroba just flat out tells him "I don't wanna be in a romantic relationship with you" I just know he's going to smile and tell her it's okay and he'd still be there for her and it won't affect their friendship at all and he's going to stay by her side de jashdkahsd sorry the brainworms are doing the thing again.

Of course the idea of Ceroba confessing first also came into my mind, her realizing she's in love with Starlo but now has to fight the guilt thinking that she's "betraying/cheating on Chujin" made the little angsty gremlin in me giggle but I just preferred it would be Starlo who breaks the ice just for shittles and giggles (I like seeing him get all blushy and shy HIHIHIHIH). Also adding the fact that Ceroba DID consider getting together with him but she brushes it off cuz she thinks he's still too immature. (Yes I am aware Ceroba acknowledges Starlo growing up in True Pacifist but I didn't give it that much thought I was in delulu land)

But then I saw the post and ho h my god oh my goddddddd.....

I was a fool

Starlo is aware of what Ceroba has gone through and as her childhood best friend he would respect her and not risk overwhelming her with a confession cuz OF COURSE HE WOULDNT, and if he DID consider confessing it would be YEARS after the whole "Clover-sacrificing-themselves-for-the-futue-of-monsterkind" ordeal but he would have probably fallen out of love at this point and it would go

⭐: "OH YEAH btw I had a crush on you when we were kids" 🦊: "HUH"

(not dismissing the chance he could still be in love with her despite that I mean he's dedicated and loyal and so damn devoted to her it makes sense, it was just had a funny thought giggles)

But then after reading the post, it reopened the idea of Ceroba confessing first and... oh my god it was glorious. It would start small, thinking he looked nice one day, subconsciously gazing at him and adoring him at the distance as he talks his usual nonsense at the saloon with the feisty 5, wanting to hang out with him a little more than usual, until it slowly builds up over time. She starts noticing the little things about him, his wide smile, the sound of his voice and the laughter he makes when he does his usual shenanigans with her in post-pacifist where things are starting to get brighter as they heal together, she would call him an idiot but god he would just smile at her again and the little dimples on the sides of his face would make her melt without knowing and she swears she felt her face get warm but brushes it off, thinking it's nothing. But that's where the snowball keeps getting bigger, she would see him talking to the folk again at the saloon and wish it was her he was laughing with, she'll quickly snap out of it, shake her head a little and think about how weird it was for her to have thought about that. She'd find herself beaming when he calls her name and feel so stupid for doing so, "Why am I so happy all of a sudden? He says my name all the time..."

And the snowball finally crashes when they have one of those talks, y'know the ones where you usually have at 3 am with your friends? Just talking about life in general, talking about the future, what are each of them scared of, what they feel and what they think about things, just being so vulnerable and open with each other. They've had their fair share of these talks but today was different. He looked absolutely stunning, despite being mentally exhausted he still looked divine, the way his eyes droop when his expression softens, the slow rise and fall of his chest when he sighs, his wide glistening smile turning into a small and soft curl on his lips. She can't help herself but make subtle touches and discreetly brush her shoulder against his as they lean towards the railings of the balcony, fighting the urge to just reach out and figure out small ways to make contact with him. She gazes at him the entire time, analyzing him, noticing all the little changes he makes, why can't she look away? She can't, she tried, so many times but it still ends up with her looking at him again trying to burn the image of him in her mind, wanting to leave it there forever. When the talk comes to a close, he turns to her and offers a hug, she accepts it and the moment he melts into her arms, she feels a sudden warmth on her chest and it instantly scatters around her entire body, enveloping her. They share each other's warmth, she slowly buries her face onto his shoulder, cherishing this small moment with him as they hold each other tight in each other's embrace. She's closing her eyes, inhaling his scent, it feels like she's in a dream, she doesn't want this moment to end, she doesn't wanna wake up just yet but.... They break a part, he gives her his goodbyes. As she goes home she lays in bed, face up, staring at the ceiling as she recalls everything that happened to her, putting pieces of the puzzle together as she finally comes to terms with herself and gets hit with the realization. It all comes crashing down to her, her eyes widen and she lets out an audible groan. She lays in silence for a moment, feeling absolute agony for being so stupid, she peaks through her fingers and looks back up the ceiling again, "Fuck..."

I haven't even dabbled with what goes on in her head after she accepts this fact, the sudden guilt consuming her, feeling like she betrayed Chujin, the person she loved with her entire soul only to fall for another. She hates it. And if she confesses she's going to be a wreck and Starlo just instantly goes to comfort her, telling her it's okay, she doesn't have to force herself to confess to h- No. She wants this, she's absolutely in love, he may have fallen first but she fell even harder, but with so much conflict in her mind, wanting to hold his hand without the weight on her shoulders pulling her back. The entire time they're together, Starlo finds the time to console her, comfort her, feeling horrible for making him stay up late just for her but he says he doesn't mind and he himself wants this, feeling absolutely honored to have her in her arms and that she trusts him so much that she's just so open and vulnerable and he's being so kind and patient to her I hate them I HATE THEM I FFUCKING HATE THUEJN R F FUCK FUCKF FFIFUUCJCC N I HATE THEMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

thE SLOW BURN IS SO SLOW BUT KEEP UP AND SET THE KITCHEN IN FLAMES PLEASE RAUGHHH

SAVE ME STAROBA W AS SAV VE MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TL;DR: uhhhh read a post and it convinced me that Ceroba slowly falls in love with Starlo over time without realizing it and when she finally does she feels really guilty cuz it feels like she's betraying Chujin, the slow burning is burning and the angst is scrumptious. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. /j

[amiharana]

just so obsessed with the idea of revali silently loving link and pining so much for him, but holding back because he's already created this facade that he despises link, because zelda and mipha already loved him first, because why would link ever choose him? so revali keeps it all inside and tries to display his bitterness at unreciprocated love as jealousy and arrogance at the imbalance of their roles, and tries desperately to fall out of love with link.

but it's as though the little hylian won't let him.

link, who practically insists on staying by revali during battle, who stares at revali with that wide blue-eyed gaze, who naps peacefully with his head in revali's lap when they're alone. and revali should be ecstatic at how close they are, but it hurts more than anything. this isn't fair to him, to be so tantalizingly close to link but to never be able to have him more than this. it's so suffocating, revali doesn't think he can stand to do this any longer, or else it might kill him.

but he continues to let link do whatever he pleases; silently tagging along after revali to the archery range, sitting beside him at mealtimes and letting him sneak more bites from revali's plate as though revali doesn't see him, even going as far as to let link sleep with him in his hammock after what revali assumed to have been a very bad nightmare. no one says a single word when revali and link arrive late to breakfast, with link clinging sleepily to revali's wing and revali looking strangely peaceful.

try as he might (he's not trying at all), revali can't say no to link (and neither does he want to), so he supposes he might as well endure this suffering a little longer.

"why do you let me do all this?" link whispers to him once, in the dead of the night, wrapped around revali in his hammock. and revali is silent for a moment, trying to come up with some sort of answer that could defend his actions. but he can't.

"i don't know," he says simply. he can't tell link the truth.

"does it bother you?"

"do you think you'd still be in my bed practically choking me to death with how tightly you're wrapped around me if it did?" revali winces at how biting his words are, but link just hums and snuggles deeper into revali's neck. he doesn't stop link.

"if it bothered you, you'd tell me, right?" the little hylian murmurs.

revali thinks about it for a moment. and he decides, no, i wouldn't. if you wished to be warm, i'd let you use my body as fuel for a campfire.

"go to sleep," he says aloud instead, softly, gently. he couldn't tell link that either, and he probably never would be able to. he wouldn't ever have the chance. "we have battles to prepare for in the morning."

revali wraps his wings snug around the blond, and link practically purrs in content, dozing off immediately into the warmth. like this, the rito almost smiles. if burning himself alive was the only way to have link, even for just a moment that couldn't always be guaranteed, then revali would just have to make sure he stayed alight; to be the bonfire keeping link warm throughout the night.