#the butterfly bane

[darkspellenthusiast]

(spoilers for chapter 8 of The Butterfly Bane by @tzeetzeethirteen) (double-check the fic tags, fic has graphic depictions of violence)

fallen queen moon my beloved. my bestie. my worstie.

absolutely love this fic, the tragic flipped alternate world has such higher stakes with a fantastic canon star that contrasts almost everyone in interesting ways. a must-read for svtfoe fics on ao3 for those who enjoy the darker stories!

[cookiedough77]

SO, i asked and you guys gave me SO many reauests oh gosh i will draw them i swear aannnnndddddd yes...

@oh-look-a-bridge and @gavotte-paradisio

:3

[green28go]

Butterflies.

What an unpleasant day, Magnus thought as he sat in his apothecary and stared at vast nothingness despite having demonology books on the study table. Alexander was not back yet. No, the whole truth is that Alexander, who was angry with him, had left in the morning at nine past and was still not back. It’s 4 pm now, and since his boyfriend left their home, his mind constantly circled back to the fight they had in the morning. It was awful and really loud—the argument. It had been about the immortality issue once again and this was their first big argument after they got back together since the Camille debacle. This time he had really pushed Alec’s buttons which he’d never willingly do. And Alec, by the look on his face, could understand that his boyfriend’s resolve broke and was seconds away from slamming the door, right on his face. From then, up until now, he sat worrying about him. He’d wanted to do nothing more than to look into the bright blue eyes and tell how sorry he was and that he did not mean a single syllable that he had uttered at that moment, he knew that Alec required space and he respected that, but now, his mind starts to worry and he glances at his phone if he’d received any text from Alec but feels dejected as there is no sign of what he is looking for.

He gets an idea that he deems fitting as an apology to the Archer for the way things ended between them in the morning. So, he summons a small stack of Clairefontaine Triomphe writing papers and, writes a short and sweet letter for Alec.

Dear Alexander,

                            I apologize for my suboptimal behavior earlier this day and would want nothing more than to tell you by holding your hand that I did not mean an ounce of what I said in the moment of heat. Believe me, love, when I say that you are indeed the best thing that happened to me in decades. Now, if you will come home, to me, I would gladly curl up with you on the couch and kiss you till the daybreak.

Love, Magnus.

He perfumed the letter with sandalwood, of course, what else would he use, and performed his little trick that sent the letter, converted into a fire message, flying out of the room to his Alec, in the form of a butterfly. He watched as it left the room swiftly and started waiting patiently for Alec to reply.

He waited and waited. Ten minutes turned into thirty and that turned into an hour and a half.

No reply, not a single word through any means from Alec. He was not on a mission or on patrol as Alec would always ensure he informed him beforehand. So, he must either be in the Institute or with the Alliance. Magnus has a half mind to track him but he resorts to calling Isabelle instead.

“Hello, my favorite compatriot from Brooklyn!”  

“You don’t really know many people in Brooklyn,” he replied.

“Of course, I do, like your boyfriend who lives with you,” he is amused at Isabelle’s reply.

“And pray tell, why is your brother not your favorite?” he asked.

“Because he is in a grumpy mode and had already snapped at me once and twice at Jace,” she answered.

He is indisputably aware of the grumpiness in his boyfriend and it is his job to make it go away. Just when he was about to inquire about what Alec was doing, Isabelle pondered a question towards him.

“Magnus, does it have to be something to do with you?” she asked.

His reply was easy. Silence.

“By the angel, should’ve already known it was you, I thought it had something to do with mindless Shadowhunters who are refusing to cooperate with the Alliance,” she said again, more like realized.

“Is he in your line of sight, dear Isabelle?” he asked her.

“Yes, we are in the training room and he is staring at a piece of paper with his signature “I’m unimpressed,” look,” she said.

What Isabelle said only meant one thing. Alec is nonchalant about his apology, not impressive enough, so he’ll just strengthen his strategy to woo Alec through his cher-courrier.

“Thank you, Isabelle, now I have to make it up to your brother,” he said with determination.

“I know you will, Magnus,” she said leaving the call.

Now, he took the writing paper and started expressing his love for Alec, molded into an apology in the form of words.

Dear Alexander,

                         I once again stand here to tell you how sorry I am for what happened in the morning. Darling, you are exqui………………….

He filled the entire letter with his adoration for his loving Shadowhunter and, transformed it into a butterfly, scented it, and sent it flying towards the Institute.

He waited for forty-five minutes and when nothing came his way from his beloved, he took the feather into his hand and started writing again. Maybe the letter was quite a bit. So, he tried again.

My Dearest Alec…………….

No answer. He tried again.

I truly am remorseful……….

Nothing from his boyfriend. He wrote afresh with a different ink.

I want to hold you……………

None. No reply. He was reluctant to give up. He sprinkled glitter in the letter and sent it Alec’s way.

Sweetheart, I love you………

Nope, not a singular word from Alec. So, he dipped the feather in the black ink and started.

Alexander, talk to me……....

He was exhausted, not because of expressing his affection and fondness for Alec but because of having his beloved not give an expression for what he was saying. The silence was absolute torture and now it turned into anger.

Come on, this is not fair………

He wrote, and waited. The answer became obvious when he held the feather again.

He was feeling what was a huge amount of sadness, hurt, and a bit of anger and decided that this was his last letter and he was going to the Institute, once the reply from Alec resembled his previous replies.

Come home, Alexander, I’m sorry………

He sent it and waited. It was almost 10 ‘o'clock and he seriously questioned his boyfriend’s stubbornness in not wanting to speak with him and ghosting him. Was this how Alec felt during the time of their break up? He remembered how sorry Alec was and how frustrated he got in a certain voicemail. He had listened to all of them, a part of him at that time hoped that he’d preserve those voicemails if Alec never wanted to get back together with him. But that was an obstacle that they had overcome, together.

He didn’t make an effort to dress himself ever-so-enticingly as far as his fashion sense goes. He was worn out and missed having Alec by his side. The only energy he has is required to open up a portal directly to the Institute and he did that.

He was at the back of the Institute and walked, without a single thought on his mind, into the place, as he no longer required anybody to escort him. He found Jace in the corridors and Jace, who must’ve either sensed it or found it from Isabelle, had simply mouthed at him that said training room.

He strode towards the place with quietude, careful not to show his wretched worry.

There was his Alexander, his back facing him and his position upright. He was holding the bow and arrow, aiming towards the target with the proficiency that can only be achieved by vigorous training. He cleared his throat to draw the attention of his boyfriend.

Alec didn’t turn toward him and just spoke in a tone that indicated detachment and coldness. If he was surprised by his presence, he did very well not showing it.

“What do you want?”

Oh no. That angered him. After all those apologies and letters and his obvious efforts, Alec just did not do that.

“What do I want? What exactly do you want Alec?” He said with a clear indication of how furious he was.

“Nothing,” Alec stated, not moving an inch.

“Why are you being so uncompromising?” He said, his voice weary.

“You mean difficult,” Alec answered, finally turning towards him.

“No, I didn’t say that,” He immediately responded. Alec looked like someone who hadn’t been sleeping for two days and he could notice the bruises on the archer’s hands.

“But you meant it,” Alec quietly voiced his opinion.

“You’re never difficult to be with, Alexander,” He uttered in a soft voice.

Alec didn’t respond to that, he was just standing there, with his eyes looking anywhere except at the person in front of him.

“I’ve apologized so many times, Alec, and I-” he started but was cut short.

“Wait, when did you apologize?” Alec asked him, clearly confused.

“Seriously Alexander,” He said, looking every bit unimpressed.

“Magnus, You didn’t apologize at all, today,” Alec finished.

“I did,”

“In your dreams, I suppose,” Alec muttered.

“Alexander,” he retorted.

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about,”

“What did you even read in those letters, Alec?”

“What letters?”

“The letters that I sent you,” he exclaimed.

“I did not receive a single letter from anybody today, the Institute mailbox is empty,” Alec declined.

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, now you don’t think I am telling the truth, fantastic, what else is new?” The bitterness in his voice was evidently clear.

“Alec, will you just stop, I am trying to make things right between us,”

“So, you think I am not?”

“For Lilith’s sake, I don’t see you doing that,” He said, frustrated.

“Magnus, if you are really here to pick fights with me I-”

“My purpose of being here is not that, but I highly suppose you are the one who is trying to do it,”

Just when Alec was about to remark, they were interrupted by footsteps making their way toward the Institute. So, they naturally fell quiet. It was Clary, and she was carrying a strange cage in her hand.

“Hey, are you guys okay?” she inquired.

They nodded.

“Magnus, I’m here to ask if these belong to you,” she pointed to the box she was holding. Now, it became distinct to him what was in it—his letters—all of them. Their wings were fluttering, and those butterfly-shaped letters were trying to get out of the cage.

“They’re sparkling and have a natural glimmer of your magic, so I brought them to you,” she said, holding them out.

“Yes, they belong to me, and how did you get them? " He said, taking the cage into his hands.

“Oh, the new group of Shadowhunters from Geneva caught them, they are still waiting for more in the entrance,” she answered.

He’d take care of them tomorrow but for now, his priority is Alec and giving him these letters.

 “Thank you, biscuit. You truly helped me a lot today,” he said with a breath of relief and gratitude toward the redhead.

“You’re welcome and good night, the both of you,” she left with a smile on her face.

He looked at Alec, who was looking at the cage in his hand. There was no anger, only mild irritation mostly masked by curiosity.

“All right, brace yourself, Alexander,” he said, hoping Alec would like what he had done.

He opened the cage and the letters went flying toward Alec, landing on Alec, forming a half-silhouette of the Shadowhunter.

“Magnus, what are these?” Alec asked not moving an inch and holding still so as not to disturb those little inanimate letters.

“Pick one and read,” he instructed his boyfriend gently.

Alec did as he was told. He watched as his eyes skimmed over the letter swiftly, the expression on his face changing, his gaze softening and a small smile forming on his angelic face.

Alec looked at him and asked.

“Are all these letters, apologies?”

“Yes, they are,”

“Why so many?”

“You were not responding so I-”

“I forgive you,” Alec didn’t blurt it out but had said it calmly.

“You didn’t read all of them,” he said.

“I will but to forgive you, you are enough,”

Alec uttered those words with such sincerity that it made him want to reach out to the Archer and wrap him in the warmest hug. But he didn’t.

“I do not mean anything I’ve said this morning, I’m sorry-” he started instead.

“Magnus, I know,” Alec told him gently.

“So, you already forgave me?”

“Of course, I did,”

“But, you didn’t say so,” he said in a quiet tone.

“Because I wanted to know,” Alec hesitated. “I wanted to know if you’d reach out to me before I’d do it,” Alec whispered.

He moved towards Alec.

“Oh, Alexander,” He cupped Alec’s face in his hands and gently tugged at his face so that the Shadowhunter would look at him. The butterflies on Alec's body stayed where they were, only fluttering a little.

“Of course, I would reach out to you,”

“I know, it’s a stupid doubt to have-” Alec mumbled but he cut him off in the middle.

“Of course it’s not sweetheart, I’m sorry that I gave you the implication that I’d never come to you first and that you had to doubt me about it,” he softly said those words, meaning every monosyllable.

Alec looked at him with adoration and in a heartbeat, kissed him. The butterflies came to life when their lips touched and then again settled on Alec.

The kiss was soft, nothing passionate but rather it was a slow one, one that is full of love and familiarity. Their hands wrapped themselves around each other.

When they finally broke the kiss but, didn’t break away from the embrace, Magnus bent his head forward and a bit downward, his forehead touched Alec’s.

“I’ll try to do better,” he said gently. A soft smile spread across Alec’s face.

“So will I,” Alec uttered with reverence.

It was a promise from both of them. They smiled into their kiss once again.

[lurafita]

Malec meet pre-canon divergent

(considering tv-show canon only, as I don't know much about the books) I personally found it a little weird that Alec and his siblings had to be briefed about the High Warlock of their territory, by Hodge. Shouldn't Alec, as the acting head, have been aware of the most prominent downworld leaders in the city his institute is in? Wouldn't Magnus have been in the institute before, for ward maintenance or things like that? Wouldn't they have had to call him to close rifts that demons were popping out of? (Not like those kinds of things were ever shown or discussed in the show, but then again, the show was very stingy where details and backgrounds were concerned.) Anyway, I would like to propose a series re-write, where Alec and Magnus get to know each other pre-canon, and Magnus has the chance to bolster Alec's self-worth and confidence a little. And then exploring what effect this might have, as Alec wouldn't be such a pushover where his siblings are concerned. (I actually just really like re-writes of given plots that explore changes to said given plot, so that personal guilty pleasure might heavily play into this prompt…. 😉 )

possible scene:

They could meet on site for rift closure, and Alec is laying down a plan of attack, because some demons have already gathered. And then Jace is trying to propose another plan (that's less tactical than Alec's was and more of a 'run in head first' kinda deal). And Alec is not confident about his own plan versus Jace's, and he is about to give in, but then Magnus is like: "I agree with the pretty boy." And Jace smirks and goes: "See, the high warlock thinks it will work." And then Magnus goes: "Oh no, I was talking about his plan. Yours sucks."

-

I think, if a relationship between them (platonic heading for romantic) exists for some time, Magnus would probably let slip about Maryse and Robert having been in the circle. Not in a malicious way. I think Magnus assumed that Alec knew. So maybe one day Magnus offers to check over the wards, and Alec accepts and wonders loudly about why his parents didn’t commission check ups for two years,

and Magnus just "Well, they have tried to limit their business with downworlders as much as possible. Which isn't surprising, seeing as many of us feel that they haven't been sufficiently punished for their crimes while they were in the circle. But it's not as if I would have refused the job. I might have overcharged them, … Alexander? You look pale, is something wrong?"

-

I just see them having lots of little conversations that help build Alec up, while not just being simple compliments. Like, when Alec doubts his leadership qualities and asks Magnus about his opinion, as Magnus has fought in a few wars and known a few figureheads. "I believe being a good leader comes down to knowing and trusting in yourself." "Shouldn’t that be 'knowing and trusting my people'?" "That, too. But it's important to know your own strengths and weaknesses. For example, I'm one of the most powerful warlocks out there with a deep and varied understanding of my craft, and I look dashing in silk. I'm also impatient, occasionally vain, and I can be quite petty. Now what about you? Let me start you off. You are afraid." "Wow, didn’t think you would start with a weakness." "I didn’t. Well, maybe a little bit. Fear can be both. But in this case, I meant it as a strength." "How?" "Think back to our first meeting. The fear of not knowing what the situation was we were walking into, made you come up with a strategy that allowed us to assess what was going on, while also ensuring minimal collateral damage. What do you think would have happened had you been as cocky as your parabatai, and stormed right in?" "… We wouldn’t have known about the circle members, or the back entrance. The perimeter wouldn’t have been secured. The teen warlock might have become a victim to a shadowhunter blade, had you not had the chance to see the enslavement collar on her." "See? You have good instincts, Alexander, and a great mind for tactical manouvers. That is something you should trust in more."

[gaberat]

[threerandomnouns]

@/extroverted people in my uni’s math program where are y’all, my introverted ass needs to be adopted asap 😭

[xinambercladx]

Hahahaha! This. But Cad Bane. XD

[leon-on-the-froggy-chair]

"The Scalpel Shines in God's Sunshine"

(click for better quality)

Guess who's still alive, this drawing has been the bane of my existence for the last 2 days after I got the idea back in like August djjjdjsk hope yall like

Lyrics from Scream of The Butterfly by Acid Bath

[jasmines-library]

👀 'tis me, i loved the other one so much ❤️❤️❤️, and am back with this wAcky idea muahahaaa:

batboy (you choose) x villain!reader

they are supposed to hate each other because of circumstances (you choose) BUT they got caught in a fight and are working together. after that fight, batboy finds that reader is actually a HUGE softie, and has never really had relationships, and when batboy does find out, he teases reader to embarrassment. they end up falling in love they kiss and fluffy things, under the moonlight, but then reader goes spiraling. like- is it safe to do this? is it okay to show weakness like that? will they put batboy in danger? and they are on the verge of a panic attack. they run away from batboy, which breaks both of them 🥹. reader avoids batboy for months, not really coping with their feelings, having panic attacks every night and all. and then one night, batboy sees reader fighting in an alley. reader takes out the thugs quickly and batboy approaches, and he can see through reader's eyes a whirlwind of emotions and it breaks his heart... and then they somehow make up and a lot of fluff pleeasee <3 (omg it's not totally angst 🥹)

ilyyy muah! (platonic ofc 😘)

Bullet With Butterfly Wings

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Note: This is so cute! I love this idea and I hope you like it. I just wanted to make a side note and say that i am queer, and whilst I am very happy to write romantically for the batboys, It may not be super great (which is why most of my work is platonic tbh) so apologies in advance for that. I also chose to write for Jay so I hope that's okay!

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Minor injuries, self doubt, manipulative parent (bane) but only brief, swearing teasing, kissing but no smut (SFW)

Word Count: 5k (it took me 40 years but it was worth it)

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Jason Todd was your enemy.

That is what you have always been told. It had been ingrained in you since you were very young. Batman and his band of proteges were a nuisance. Bothers. Vermin that needed to be exterminated from Gotham. Your father had countless rivalries: and that had extended to you. Your whole life was dedicated to training to cause havoc and trying to remove Gothams vigilantes.

Jason Todd was your enemy. And you despised him. He despised you too. Not that you cared, he had every right to. Your father had broken his many times.

He had always been tricky. He slunk around the shadows and always put a stop to your fun. His brothers weren’t much better. So when he was killed… you should have been ecstatic. You should have clenched your fists in rage when he returned…but instead you felt…lost.

Jason Todd was your enemy. So why were you helping him…?

You had heard the commotion from nearly a block over. The cacophony of shattering glass, the ricochet of bullets followed by the screeching of the building's alarm: you were over there speedily, tugging your pistols from your holsters as you weaved towards the orange glow of the flickering lights.

The building was completely destroyed. The windows were smashed in, spidering where the bullets had passed through them or jagged where what looked like a brick had been lobbed into it. The frames of the windows were completely broken too, splintering under the brute force of the coloured bandits that had weasled their way inside. Dressed in unsubtle colours, they seemed to be searching for something; they overturned desks and sent an array of papers scattering to the ground. It was that or they were just looking to have fun. You smirked, taking a step closer to the building ready to join them but then you caught a flash of the triangular emblem they had haphazardly spray painted on the back of their jackets and cursed. Safe to say that they weren’t going to tolerate you being near them. Your father had royally pissed them off. More than once. But who were you to back down from a fight?

Shouldering your weapons, you stepped closer crouching to try and keep out of their sight. It was going to be much easier for you if you could take them by surprise. Much more entertaining for you too. Though it seemed that luck wasn’t on your side because one of them, a tall girl with blonde hair she had tied back in a braid, turned her head just before you could dash out of the way and with a cry of your alias, all heads turned to you.

There was no use hiding now your cover was blown so with your guns raised high you aimed and fired. They were quick to retaliate and with their the sheer number of them it was difficult to predict their movements and stay out of their line of fire despite all of your training. The whole ordeal was a mess, bullets and punches flew left, right and centre. The whole ordeal only got a fuck ton more complicated when he arrived. The knight in fucking black and red armour. He perched on top of the roof, teetering dangerously to the edge, before landing on his feet only a few metres away, no doubt with a smug grin hidden behind his red mask. It didn’t do him much good. You knew exactly who he was and it hadn’t taken you much to figure it out. But perhaps that was because you were much more perceptive than most. Perhaps it was because you spent far too much time thinking about him.

Red Hood stood towering over you, glaring at you through his brows. He tutted. “Y/N Bane. Should have known you would be here.”

“And miss the chance to beat your pretty face?” You mocked. “You should know better.”

Red Hood rolled his eyes, shifting his weight as he reached for his weapon. He looked as though he was going to say something; another jest or sly remark, but the moment was ruined when one of the bandits ran up behind him bearing a weapon he intended to plunge into the vigilantes side. However he was much quicker, twisting around to grab the boy by his wrists and flinging him over his shoulder. He landed with a grunt before trying to grab at Red Hood's legs. You beat him to it though, landing a harsh blow to his back and sending him slumping back to the ground.

That seemed to set the rest of them off and all of a sudden the pair of you were surrounded. The street quickly became a flurry of punches and rounds of bullets that lodged themselves in the crackstone bricks or ricocheted off of the metal pipes with a cloud clang. None of them found their mark. Strange for a group of people who wielded their weapons so confidently.

It seemed to be going well. Some sort of unseen rivalry seemed to bloom between you and Red Hood, trying to see who could take the most thugs down. Those that didn’t flee dropped like flies. But you were outnumbered. And even though the pair of you were twice as skilled as them combined, you began to find it difficult to push them back.

Darting into the building to shelter from their hail of bullets, you managed to take down the pair that were hurtling things at Hood. And then it all fell silent.

Exhaling heavily, you wiped the sweat from your brow and holstered your weapons after checking the coast was clear. Smirking, you slid out of the doorway ready to jest to the vigilante. But he seemed to be nowhere to be seen. You rolled your eyes. Coward.

“Given up already?” You jested. “Honestly for a man of your size it thought that you would last a lot longer than-”

Your stomach sank when you turned the corner and saw the vigilante hunched up against the wall, his one hand pressed firmly into the wall, the other pushing hard up against his right side. His breaths came in short, ragged gasps as he tried to catch his breath, his back still turned away from you. You furrowed your brow, taking a hesitant step toward him. It was then that you noticed the crimson that oozed between his fingers.

“Here to finish me off?” He spat, words laced with a thick and potent venom.

“I’m thinking about it.”

He turned toward you, his body jolting in agony as he twisted. From there you could see the two small but ragged circles that jutted out from his suit; one above his left hip and the other a few inches to the right of it. Only one of them seemed to have an exit wound.

“Get on with it then.” He grumbled trying to keep his composure. You could see the way his legs trembled as he tried to keep his composure. “They’re not coming any time soon.” He gestured to his coms. The screen was blank. Broken. “Comms are down.” his voice was torn up by a sickening cough. “But I'd get it over with quickly so you can leave before they catch your trail.”

Your fingers twitched as you reached for your pistol. Instinct. You should finish him off. It would make your father proud. It would end your years of resentment and it would bring you oh so much glorious fame. He was already practically cowering on the ground; an easy kill. Jason Todd was your enemy. You should have pulled the trigger. But instead, you found yourself darting forward as Jason as his body careened forwards.

~

When Jason awoke, he did so in a panic. His eyes were wide and his heart pounded in his chest. It was only when he tried to push himself up and was met by a sudden pinch in his side that everything came back to him. He didn’t recognise his surroundings. The walls were decorated in artwork that he didn’t recognise, and he was laying in a bed with streets that belonged to a stranger. He scrambled for his pistols only to realise that they weren’t there. And that his mask had been removed.

“Lay back down, you idiot.” You scolded from across the room. “Your wounds are still healing, And relax.” You gestured to his mask and the top half of his suit that you had folded up and laid on a chair. It was then that he realised that he was not wearing his shirt and that the eternity of his torso was wrapped securely in bandages. “I knew who you were.”

Jason had to do a double take. But he soon turned sour. “What the fuck am I doing here?”

You scoffed, placing the glass of water you had brought in on the bedside table. “A thank you would be nice.”

“I’m serious” he narrowed his eyes on you.

You faltered, eyeing him cautiously and pursing your lips. Truthfully, you had struggled to get him back to your apartment. You had to move fast with the amount of blood he had lost. You were glad that he lost consciousness when he did because although you should have left him there to rot… you couldn’t bear the thought of seeing him writhe beneath you as you dug a pair of tweezers under his skin to dig out the bullet.

The vigilante eyed you cautiously, still confused as to why you had decided to drag him all the way back here. It couldn’t have been easy for you. He watched as you dug around in one of the draws in your bedroom. He had never seen you properly without your suit on. And he could fully see your face now it wasn’t obscured by the black and white mask that sat comfortably around your eyes. Jason stared for a little too long and found his thoughts wandering a little too far for his liking. He was supposed to loathe you. He was supposed to think you were vile. But yet again…you were the furthest thing from what he had convinced himself to believe.

“You’re staring.” You could feel his eyes on you.

Jason’s cheeks flushed and he turned his gaze away. Rolling your eyes you tossed him a bottle of painkillers that you had pulled out of the mess of your draw. They rattled as they hit the side of the plastic container when he caught them.

“Take some of those. They should help with the ache.

He gave you an unamused look, hand hovering on the seal.

“Relax, bird boy. If I wanted you dead you would be.”

Jason popped two in his mouth hesitantly and swallowed them down with the water you had left on the side. A loud buzzing sounded from out of the room. You disappeared briefly out of the doorway. Not being able to see you made him nervous, but you returned soon with two items in your hand. The first, his phone and the source of the incessant buzzing, and the second his comlink which was no longer dark like it was before but instead was lit up around the crack on the screen. You handed the two to him.

“You might want to let them know that you’re alive. That damn thing’s been going off all night.” You told him.

“You fixed it.” Jason gawped, turning the small device over in his hands.

You shrugged. “Had to make sure the GPS was off. Besides, I had nothing better to do.”

After sending a quick message to reassure his family that he was alive, Jason frowned at you. “Why are you helping me?”

You faltered. Why were you helping him? It went completely against everything you had been taught. But you hadn’t really thought much about what you were doing. It was like your body was on autopilot, moving without thought of feeling and just following someone’s orders blindly. You shrugged at him. “It just felt like the right thing to do.”

Jason practically laughed. “But doesn’t that go against your entire image?”

“There is a lot you don’t know about me, Todd.”

The vigilante smirked, the corners of his lips creeping upward. Snarky. He liked you. “Then perhaps I should get to know you more.”

~

No matter how hard he tried, Jason couldn’t take his mind off you. Even once he had long returned home, he couldn’t get the image of your face out of his thoughts. There was something about you that was just so enthralling to him. And that bothered him greatly. His hours passed by quickly as he thought of you. What you had done. And god he was so conflicted. But the part of him that seemed to want to inch closer to you won.

After struggling to pull on his hoodie, no thanks to the dull ache that still emimated from his wounds, he slipped on his shoes and trudged down the stairs. He was just about to slip out of the door when a voice stopped him.

“Jay?” Dick asked, scowling at his brother. “Where are you going?”

“Out?”

“Again? You’ve only just got back after completely wiping off the radar and now you’re sneaking off?”

“I wasn’t sneaking.”

Dick cocked his brow.

The younger Wayne sighed and with a roll of his eyes told him defensively “It’s nothing, Grayson.”

Jason slipped out of the door.

Even though he had only been there once, Jason seemed to practically have the route to your apartment engraved in his mind. After all, he had walked in over and over again in his head as he thought about returning to see you. Although he was confident on how to get there, when he stood in front of the door with his fist poised to rap against the panel, a very rare occurrence happened to Jason. He was nervous. His stomach fluttered and churned underneath the bandages and then the door flew open.

And there you stood. You looked more awake than before. Perhaps because you had actually managed to get some sleep since he had left. It had been a well needed rest. The ache in your bones from the previous night had nearly vanished once you awoke. However, similarly to the vigilante, when you awoke you too had found your mind wandering back to the boy you had dragged back into your home.

There he was. Standing in your doorway.

“Todd?” You darkened your brow. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I came to get to know you.”

Gripping his wrist you pulled him inside and shut the door behind you.

~

You and Jason had grown close very quickly. After he had slunk up to your apartment, the pair of you exchanged numbers. This led to many rendezvous and you began to actually enjoy spending time with him. He was an intricate person. He had so many layers to him, each one more interesting than the next. He had also discovered that there was much more to you than your facade let on. You were kind, funny, and deeply compassionate despite your history. It was ironic really. But that made Jason love you even more. He loved the way you smiled with your eyes and the way they lit up when you saw something you adored. He loved the curves of your cheekbones, your nose, your jawline and your figure. He had grown to love your laugh and the way your voice softened when you were tired. He loved all of you. But he wasn’t sure if you so much as even liked him back.

It would be a complete lie to say didn’t. Slowly, the pair of you began to open up to each other. You knew little about his past and hearing him open up about it brought tears to your eyes. That was the first time that you had hugged him. Wrapping him up in your arms seemed to come almost naturally and despite the fact that Jason wasn’t a huge people person, he found himself leaning into your embrace. The two of you began to learn things about each other very quickly. You would tell him something and he would exchange the favour. Countless hours were spent as the two of you messaged back and forth or lounged around on your couch as you talked over the movies you tried to watch but failed because you couldn’t tear your eyes off of him. He was smart and he was kind and it was nice to have someone to really open up to. You had never really had that before Jason. Of course, when he found out about that and your lack of relationships, he couldn’t help but tease you. He thought it was adorable the way that your cheeks flushed and you shrunk into yourself.

Tonight, you were sitting on a hillside. It was a little far out of the city, but Jay had insisted that it was going to be worth it. Reluctantly, but with a little grin, you had followed him up the small hill.

The view was truly magnificent. From here, you had a view of the entire city. You could see all of the lights flickering throughout the skyscrapers and the neon lights of the signs as they reflected off of the dark windows. But what was even more magical were the stars. They twinkled above you brighter than a thousand diamonds all at once. It made your breath catch in your throat. With all of the light pollution in Gotham, it was hard to see the stars. But out here you could see them in all of their beauty. So as you lay back in the grass, basking in the moonlight while Jay pointed out the constellations, you twisted your body to sit face him. He returned the motion, looking at you with gentle eyes and a smile touching his lips.

“Thank you for bringing me here, Jay.” You told him. “It truly is beautiful here.”

He nodded, speaking softly. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I’ve never seen so many stars.” You said, inching yourself up so that you were sitting. “Though I suppose that’s because I’ve never really been out of Gotham.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. This was something new. “No?”

You shook your head as he too sat up. “Never. My father never let me.”

This surprised the vigilante somewhat, but he remained silence and let you continue.

“He’s… protective. And somewhat controlling.” you trailed off. “I know he just wants me to follow in his footsteps but for my entire life I’ve been following his command blindly. It’s always what he wants. He’s never once stopped and thought about what I want.”

Jason reached out a delicate hand to brush away a stray hair, tucking it back behind your ear. “And what is it that you want?”

“This.” You breathed out.

Tenderly, he leaned forward to interlock his lips with yours. They were soft and gentle and he kissed you with a gentle amorous touch. His hands brushed the back of your hair, tangling in your locks as you returned the kiss, leaning into his touch.

~

Being with Jason was more than you could ever have imagined. It was a different kind of love. Something you had never really experienced before. It was filled with gentle exchanges of touches, reassurances of your love for each other, gifts and small trinkets that you would buy for each other when it reminded you of them and so so much more. With Jay, you could just be yourself and he loved you for it. There was no more trying to keep up a facade that perhaps was much more of an act influenced by your father than you thought it was. Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

You and Jay had been going out for a few months when it happened. You had returned home after a late night stroll with him to find your father sitting on your couch. He was angry, face contorting with dark lines when he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Dad?” You asked, trying to hide the evidence of your outing from him. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t play coy with me.” He spat standing to tower above you. “I know exactly that’s going on with you and that little bird.”

He took a step forward, intending to intimidate you but you held your ground.

“How long did you think you could keep that hidden?”

“I don’t see what that’s any of your business.” You grit your teeth.

“I am your father. I made you who you are. Without me you would be nothing.” His words dripped with venom as he backed you into the wall.

“That’s exactly the point! You've never once stopped to consider what I want!”

Bane's face hardened and he leaned forward to speak to you in a scarily hushed tone and he gripped your wrists so hard you were sure it was going to leave a bruise later. “Now you listen here you insolent little girl. Either you stop running around with Bruce Wayne’s little protege or I will end him and I will make you watch. You understand.”

You didn’t meet his eyes. Instead you found a spot on the carpet to burn your gaze onto.

“I said, do you understand?” He raised his voice and you could feel your heart pounding against your rib cage.

“Yes, Father.” You admitted with defeat. He released his firm grip.

“Good.” Bane moved back towards the door. “Because I mean it.”

Without another word he turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him.

You crumpled to the floor, your body wracked with sobs that forced their way out from your ragged gasps.

And then your phone buzzed. His name displayed brightly on the screen.

Jason: Hey baby. D’you get in okay?

It was one of his usual messages. He sent them often when he couldn’t walk you back to your door. Sometimes even when he had walked you back and made sure you got inside with a parting kiss. You couldn’t blame him for being cautious. You had seen eachother fretting for the other when you came home with injuries. It was normal for Jason. But now it felt so wrong.

Opening the message your fingers hesitated over the keypad as you thought about your fathers warning. Was he right? Were you putting Jay at risk. Would it just be better if you. No. You tried to clear the thought from your mind.

You: Fine. Sorry for keeping you waiting.

You replied, waiting for the small bubble to finish typing.

Jason: you sure you’re okay baby?

You: of course. Why wouldn’t I be?

Jason: No reason. I just had this feeling.

You: Oh? Well I’m fine I promise. Night Jay.

You were in fact, not fine.

~

The next time you saw Jason your heart was racing. And not in the good way. In the “I think I’m going to hurl” way.

You had been thinking about him nonstop. About how much joy he brought you. How you could never fathom leaving him. But Bane's words kept replaying in your head. Seeing him had brought a part of your old self back. The part that you had long since tried to move past. Was being with Jason making you weak? You had told him so much that it felt as if he knew you inside and out. Was it okay to show vulnerability to him like that? You had been thinking a million thoughts at once. But the one that stuck out most to you was ‘am I putting Jason in danger?’ Would your selfishness of wanting to be with him cost him his life. You had tried to tell yourself that you were being silly. That Jason could handle himself. He was the infamous Red Hood. But you knew Jay. And you knew Bane. So you knew that if he put his mind to it, Jason Todd would die.

And that was why you needed to leave.

When Jason arrived he greeted you with a bright grin that only made your stomach sink deeper into your abyss of guilt. You took a deep breath, trying to hide the tremble of your body and the tears in your eyes. You could not bring yourself to return his mannerisms.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” He frowned as he approached you.

“Jay…. I-I” your voice caught in your throat: a reminder of how little you wanted this to happen. But you had to. For his sake “I can’t do this anymore.”

Jason’s face dropped. “W-what?”

You honestly don’t think you had ever seen him look more hurt. Another wound to add to the collection.

“I can’t do this anymore.” You gestured between the two of you. “ I love you, Jason. But I can’t carry on being with you.”

You took a step back and Jason reached out to try and touch you but stopped, cutting himself off short. “Y/N what’s happened? Please tell me baby. What have I done wrong?”

“Nothing, Jay.” You shook your head, blinking away the tears that fell. “That’s the worst part. Nothing at all.”

~

You avoided Jason Todd like the plague after that. No matter how much you mourned his face and playful smile. His flurries of texts and calls went unanswered until they slowly thinned out. Never stopping, but as the summer turned to autumn, there were less and less of them.

You could tell it broke him as much as it broke you.

You hardly left the house after that fateful day. Everything seemed to remind you of him and his stupid voice. You didn’t want to run the risk of seeing him because you knew the second you did you would break down again completely.

Your father stopped by occasionally. He would tell you that he was proud of you but you knew he was just trying to manipulate you back into his little copy of himself. You swore to yourself that you wouldn’t go back there, but after a short while you grew desperate. Perhaps it was because you had grown bored of staring at the same blank spot in the wall and the empty space on your bed, or perhaps it was because you secretly hoped that you would catch a glimpse of that infamous red suit.

It seemed that your wishes do come true.

You heard the fighting from around the corner. The cacophony of fists finding their marks. When you rounded the corner you saw him. The red of his suit outlined by the dark of the black to contrast. Your first thought was to run. To bolt back down the alleyway. But you weren’t a coward. You had had enough of hiding. You longed to see him and this was your chance. Red Hood was loosing.

With one swift action, you leaped towards the thugs grabbing one and sending her careening towards the ground. Red Hood had to do a double take when he saw the flash of your suit in the light. But there was no doubt that it was you. After months you had appeared.

Motivated by you appearance it didn’t take long of the two of you to take out the thugs. And when the last one dropped to the ground. Your first thought was to run. But then he said your name and you were glued in place. God you had longed to hear that voice.

“Y/N? Y/N please look at me” you had never heard so much softness in Jason’s voice before. He too was scared.

He was right behind you. Close enough to touch. You could sense him. His hands itching to reach out and gather you up in his arms.

Slowly you turned around to face him and your gaze met his for the first time in months. And his heart wanted to break. Jason had always been good at reading people, but he could see the whirlwind of emotions swirling in your gaze.

“I'm sorry.” You blurted out.

Jay hummed. Although he would never admit how much he had hurt during your absence, he had a feeling that you weren’t not thinking properly and had likely been influenced by someone else. The fear in your eyes confirmed his suspicions. “I know.” Jason wanted to reach out and snatch you up to pull into his embrace. “I know it was your father.”

You felt as if the whole world had been lifted off of your chest when he breathed out those words.

“Truly, I didn’t want to do it, Jay. But he threatened to- I couldn’t let him hurt you.” Your voice broke and your lips trembled as your eye filled with tears. And that was the final straw for the vigilante. He took another step forward and wrapped you up in a tight hug. He had missed you so much.

“Shh.” He hushed. “I forgive you.”

You sniffled looking up at him. “Really?”

“Of course I do.” He nodded, tucking your head under his chin. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Me too.” You muttered.

“So what do you say?” He asked. “You want to give this another go?”

“If you’ll have me.”

“Oh darling, I would trade the world for one night with you.”

And with that, Jason Todd leaned down and kissed you once more.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

BATFAM TAGS:

@hearts4robs

@hell-o-kittys

@xxrougefangxx

@aestheticdasies

@mamapucket

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

side note in case it bothers anyone: I'm somewhat aware that Bane has a daughter canonically, which is sort of why I went with him. If you wanted to you could interpret this as the reader also being created in a lab, or being his biological daughter (how I imagined it) but it doesn't really matter. I also chose bane because I didn't want to go with the joker again, but this this also doesn't really matter as the reader kinda just becomes her own villain.

[icypopz]

when their s/o gets injured ♡

↬ request from anon ; could I request the NXX boys with a s/o who received the injury while they were away and how would they take care of them during their healing process?

↬ notes ; artem wing (zuo ran), luke pearce (xia yan), marius von hagen (lu jinghe), vyn richter (mo yi) x gn!reader

↬ from ice ; hihi!! unfortunately i was quite busy this week so i wasn't as active 😵 also as someone who's often in hospital i rly related to this request :') but anyways i hope you enjoy!

↬ warning(s) ; reader has an unspecified injury to their foot, artem + luke carry reader (but they're crazy strong so they can def lift u up dw)

please reblog ! it helps a lot :)

[ artem wing / zuo ran ! ]

as soon as artem heard that you were injured, he would want to drop everything he was doing and rush to be by your side at once. unfortunately, reality means that he can't just ditch his job, so he finishes his work so quickly that even celestine is surprised and he heads home at once.

upon seeing the state of your foot and the way you wince in pain as you try to hobble towards him and greet him, artem lifts you up like you weigh nothing and brings you straight to the bedroom. he surrounds you with a million pillows and if necessary, elevates your foot with a stack of cushions too. for the entire time that you're injured, artem applies for permission to work at home, and he'll be by your side day and night. whatever you need, he'll get it for you at once so you don't even have to lift a finger.

when he realises that you're feeling upset about your injury, artem would hold your palm in his, gently squeezing your hand as he listens to you talk about your worries. he understands that such a sudden injury can be earthshaking, especially when it results in such a loss of autonomy. but artem wants you to know that he'll be with you every step of the way until and after you're 100% healed.

more content utc !

[ luke pearce / xia yan ! ]

luke would be working at the antique store when you call him and tell him you've injured your foot while at work. his first emotion is complete and utter panic, he can't lose you again- but then he snaps back into focus and tells you he'll be on the way immediately. he grabs a bunch of things that might be helpful like an ice pack, bandages and cotton pads before driving to your workplace at lightning speed (he definitely runs a couple of red lights in his hurry).

once luke brings you home, he won't even hear one single word about how you want to help him, or how he shouldn't worry too much about you. he'll just carry you and lay you down on the sofa, putting on your favourite tv show to help pass the time while he goes to prepare a meal for you. he does his best to keep you as involved as possible, asking you about which spices you want, and walking to the couch just to give you a taste test. at that point you both remember that he's terrible at cooking, so you settle for ordering takeout instead LOL.

throughout the course of your recovery, luke flits about you like a worried butterfly. he doesn't want you to strain yourself, so even when you're taking your first few steps again, luke is the one who looks like he's going to pass out from nervousness. if you ever tell him that you feel like a burden because you aren't able to do anything for now, luke will reassure you with soft kisses and whispered words of comfort. as someone with a chronic illness, he understands how useless you can feel when you're bedridden, so he knows just what to say to help you feel better.

[ marius von hagen / lu jinghe ! ]

marius is actually the bane of his directors' existence. the second you call him and tell him you're injured, he dismisses everyone in the meeting room, muttering something about rescheduling it to another day. he leaves everything up to poor vincent, who's forced to deal with the wrath of the old men on the board of directors. marius drives way over the speed limit back home, and he doesn't care at all about the accumulated speed tickets he's going to have to pay - nothing is more important than getting to you asap.

once he's got you tucked into bed and is convinced that you aren't in mortal danger, marius is soo dramatic about the whole thing it's almost as if he's the one that's injured. "but i was so worried about you! you almost drove me to an early grave, is that what you want, mx lawyer?!" he clutches his heart and stumbles around the room, which at least succeeds in cheering you up a little. unfortunately, marius can't skip out on work to be with you because pax would probably fall apart in two seconds without him at the wheel, so he relies on payton to give you everything you need (it shows how much he trusts his butler that he even entrusts your safety to him).

marius would spend as much time with you as he could, always cuddled up next to you and resting his head in the crook of your neck as you thread your hands through his hair. he'll talk about everything under the sun, hoping it distracts you from your pain. when you confess that you've been feeling down because of your injury, marius comforts you the best way he can, letting you vent as much as you need to get everything off your chest. after that he tells you that he'll treat you like royalty every day if it means that you'll feel less bad about him doing it while you're injured.

[ vyn richter / mo yi ! ]

one of the perks of running your own workplace is that you can do whatever you want, and that is exactly what vyn does. when he hears you're injured, he informs his receptionist that he'll be unavailable for the next few days except for patients with extremely urgent needs that can't be handled by the nurses. with that out of the way, he calls ogier and drives home at once, not caring how many traffic lights he ignores.

anyone who saw vyn at the time might say that he was unbothered about your injury upon looking at the way he calmly handled the situation, merely asking you what happened and checking the prescribed medications. but you know better, because you notice all the small details about him that no one else would; the way his usually flawless hair is now messy, or how his eyes flicker to you every second as if you're going to disappear into thin air, or the way his hand is ever so slightly trembling as he holds onto you so tightly.

as a psychiatrist, vyn can spot the signs of how upset you are before you say anything, but he waits for you to tell him first because he doesn't want to put any pressure on you. when you open up to him, vyn isn't judgemental at all, he listens to you carefully and reminds you that your feelings are valid. after all, it must have been incredibly difficult for you to cope with such an unexpected injury, and he's so proud of you for being so strong. vyn would help you start to walk again, and the look in his eyes when you take your first few steps on your own almost makes the whole thing worth it.

✧ thank you for reading ! if you have a request, feel free to send it in 🌠

© icypopz 2024. do not repost or modify in any way.

[mari-the-bimbo]

heyyy🫣

Could I ask for choso with the best friends brother trope in a no curses au.

thank you 🤭

Choso: the best friends brother

A/N: I’m sorry I’m sure you meant this in a completely innocent way but I got carried away and made it inappropriate so I stopped half way LOL

Warning: MINORS DNI 18 + , dirty talk, unprotected sex

Why did your best friends brother Choso have to be so hot??? Long black hair tied back but the front loose strands frames his handsome face so well, his ripped muscular body hiding under his cashmere sweaters. Choso was the bane but also the blessing of your existence.

He’s very kind to you, you reckon that’s where your best friend Yuuji learnt all his good manners from.

Well.. a bit more than kind to be honest.

Big brother Choso would often encourage his little brother Yuuji to bring you over. “She’s a good influence on you” he’ll lie through his teeth, even though he knew you were just as troublesome as his brother, but he refused to see any faults with you <3

“Y/n will you be joining us for dinner hun?” he asks as he towers over you.

There it is, the sweet names he calls you which make your stomach tingle. It may seem normal and platonic to others (aka oblivious Yuuji bless him), but when you notice the smile on his face when you stutter as a result, you know he knows.

Yuuji calls it Choso’s ‘natural instinct for affection’ detailing how he is constantly coddled by his elder. Which is why the pink haired boy doesn’t bat an eye when his big brother places his large hands on your much smaller shoulders when politely moving you out the way, or when his fingers graze your lap accidentally. How could any of this be coincidental, or is he really that naive?

But on one Sunday evening, you happened to strike some luck as you went to Yuuji’s house only to find his hot older brother alone.

“Hello y/n, miss me already?” said the deep voiced man. You laugh at his teasing, it’s better than his dad jokes.

“Hey Choso, uhh is Yuuji in? I thought I’d come over to see him”

“Yuuji’s staying over at Megumi’s, but you’re still welcome here doll, you can have fun with me instead” he said, making you blush at the suggestive remark. You choose to be brave and enter nonetheless.

“Sure” you say as you enter, you almost found your knees buckling at the thought of being alone with Choso and all sorts of fantasies entered your head.

“Come here” Choso calls you as he enters the kitchen, you follow after him. When you look up the black haired man holds out a spoon of his soup near your lips “you can be my little taste tester today, how does this taste?” He says prying your mouth open to taste it, and it’s warm and delicious as usual. “It’s good!” You hum making Choso chuckle.

“Good, I’ve made enough for both of us” he adds, “why? Did you know I’d come over?” You joke, but when Choso turns around to face you with his sleepy but intense eyes, but find yourself regretting that move.

In response, he saunters a step closer to you, making you back up until your back hit the counter, you gasp at the impact but you refuse to tear your eyes away from Choso’s, but as his face leans in, you ignore the butterflies and almost flutter your eyes shut in anticipation until you saw his muscular arm reach out and grab the salt behind you.

“Soup needs a little more salt” he says in your ear before pulling away with a smile that seemed too innocent.

“I-“

“You good? You look a little out of it” he asks and you can’t help but just stare at him in awe. How does he manage to have this much effect on you?

His eyes soften at your lack of response. “Aw you’re just so cute y/n, look at you with soup on the corner of your lips” he chuckles, you immediately snap out of it and bring the back of your hand to your mouth to wipe but a large hand wraps around yours.

“Here let me help you out” he says wiping the corners with his rough thumb, then he notices the sauce that’s now transferred to his thumb, but then he catches you offf caused as he pries your mouth open with his thumb. Your mouth could only muffle sounds in protest, until Choso’s deep voiced seemed like it boomed across the kitchen.

“Lick it off”

You stare at your best friends brother who now towered over you with his eyes expectantly watching your mouth take his thumb. You hesitantly licked the thumb in your mouth, not minding the salty taste because he’s smiling with his teeth biting his bottom lip.

“Mhm that’s right” he says, taking his thumb out, you stare up at him in shock before frowning “you tease!” You complain, making Choso raise his eyebrows before smiling.

He chuckles “awe do you feel teased y/n?” He crouches to your height before whispering “is it because you wanted to kiss?” He asks and you stall momentarily, knowing it’s true.

You shrug, making him look at you with admiration, his eyes twinkled at your cuteness before he shook his head in amusement. “You’re too cute y/n how am I supposed to say no to that?” He says and now you were blushing as you realised what he said “h-hey! I never said I wanted to-“ you defend yourself but it does in your throat as soft lips roughly press against yours. His tongue laps at the crack between your parted lips from where you’ve gasped in shock.

You both hum at the contact knowing it’s something you were both yearning for. Choso is quick to grab your entire body easily with one muscular arm and wrap you around him, now your legs were straddled around his waist and your hands flew to the black hair you always wanted to touch.

This was wrong, you really shouldn’t be making out with your best friends brother in his kitchen, but god, Choso was so perfect from his commanding but gentle aura, his large stature and muscular body to his ever so hungry lips. He’s the manliest man.

You mewl a moan as cold large hands fiddle with your trousers, easily being discarded on the kitchen floor, and the cold fingers quickly return to your soaking underwear, fingering your clothed pussy.

“feels good, right?” he mumbles lowly, the sound vibrating in his chest. “Sooo good” you gasp. “Such a little troublemaker aren’t you, couldn’t find anyone your own age huh? Needed to get fucked by your best friends brother?”

Choso was utterly obsessed with his little bro’s best friend. You were so pretty and so sweet, it was too hard to resist the taste.

He continues his ruthless speed on your clothed pussy before yanking off the soaking cotton underwear and leaving your wet pussy exposed to hungry dark eyes. Choso was quick to pull off his own boxers, springing his fat manhood free.

You moan at the sight throwing your head back. You always knew your best friend big brother had a fat cock because of the amount of times you’d stare at the massive bulge sticking out from the grey joggers. And the fat mushroom head staring back at you now was a good example of that.

Choso grabs the fat of your thigh and yanks you closer, he lined the wet tip against your slippery folds. “c’mere princess you’re gonna get fucked now”

[billthebullfrogs]

sure thing.

“Hey, firecracker,” a voice—unmistakable, to you, at least —calls from behind, and you instantly knew who it was. “Need to talk to you.”

There was only one person that would call you that nickname. Luke Castellan, the bane of your existence, thought it was extremely funny to remind you of that one time you almost burnt down the pavilion. The moment they figured out it was you; you had earned the nickname you dreaded so much. He loved reminding you of embarrassing stuff you did. You desperately wanted to wipe that self-satisfied smirk off his face. What did he even want? Didn’t he have something better to do than to bother you?

He leaned against one of the posts in the arena, eyebrows raised expectantly. He just needed a change from training the newbies. He wanted to go all out, and the best person to do that with was sadly you. Well, at least the satisfaction he’d get from beating you—because he would beat you, obviously, was totally worth it.

You sighed, “What?”

“Need a sparring partner, that's all,” he said, a smirk still tugging at the corner of his lips, now accompanied by a raised eyebrow. “And I'd rather have you than anyone in this camp.”

“That sounded too nice for your standards... Are you that desperate?” Your eyes narrowed; you were skeptical.

“Desperate to beat your ass, yes," he said, an easy laugh breaking past the steely look on his face. Luke was aware of the fact that he often annoyed you, and maybe he liked it just a little. "Besides, I wanna try some new sword techniques I came up with. So, whaddya say? Pretty please?" His head tilted a little when he said that, he was giving you that look.

You were silent, biting your lips just like you always did when you were focused. After a moment, you gave in. “Fine,” you said. Maybe you’d benefit from this, too.

"That’s my girl," he said as he casually walked toward you. "I promise not to go easy on you. If you feel like you're gonna trip and impale yourself with my sword, just say the word, alright?" A smirk flitted past his lips, though his words seemed genuine enough. Luke knew you would never stop being rivals. But the feeling of respect he had for you was real. He trusted you and even cared for you, but he’d rather commit war crimes than admit that.

“Fuck you,” you spat as you got into your signature fighting stance. Maybe this was a mistake, but if you gave up already, he’d think you’d gotten cold feet.

“If you ask nicely.”

That smug bastard. You hated him with all your heart. You hated his stupid smile and the way he made everyone around him feel comfortable, even you. You hated the butterflies he gave you. You hated his guts.

With a smooth slashing motion towards his torso, you started the fight. He blocked it with ease. Without a further word, Luke went in towards you with a quick and precise strike, sword arm extended forward in a tight grip with the tip aimed towards your sternum. He wanted to overwhelm you, thinking you hadn’t improved since the last time you sparred. But oh, was he wrong.

You’ve been watching him, his rather aggressive style of fighting, and the look in his eyes when he tried a certain move for a long time now. You’ve fought him many times before, and you were getting the hang of it. You’ve been training a lot, and while he was busy with the new campers, you had developed your own, unique fighting style. He knew you as a pretty good fighter, who could almost keep up with him on a good day. Almost. But now, you’d surpass his expectations. You blocked his hit, your body moving smoothly like liquid. Instead of using all your strength to try and withstand his attacks, you just gave in. Let loose. You used the force of his hit and channeled it, transferring it into your own with ease. He did not see that coming.

You'd always had a strong sense of intuition and your body would respond accordingly, as if it had a mind of its own. Luke was quick to counter, his body leaning back with a fluid motion to avoid any of your quick strikes, all the while trying to find an opening. The back-and-forth movement that was once just a spar has now become a deadly dance of swords, the two of you constantly in motion, no pause in sight. There is a certain excitement in the air, almost a spark that has ignited your mutual hostility and aggression.

Your movements were fluid as if you could predict all of Luke's moves in advance. You were a master of timing, of anticipating all of the demigod's strikes. Not once could he match your fluidity, his movements jerky compared to your graceful flow. There was something about the way you both fought so elegantly that made you feel like you were part of an agile performance, each of you matching the other's movements perfectly. It felt less like a fight and more like an art.

Yet even as you moved with effortless ease, the clash of swords kept you both on your toes, your bodies moving in such perfect sync that neither could find a flaw in the other's defense. Your movements almost appeared as if you were both working together, but this was not the case—in fact, Luke was becoming more frustrated by the second as he strained to find a way to slip past your guard.

“You’ve improved,” he breathed out while you fought. “I like it.” The way he said that sent shivers up your spine. It was embarrassing how these words affected you so hard that you made a small mistake. It was a mistake that could happen to even the best swordsmen in history, but a mistake nonetheless. And it led to his sword held at your throat. You fucked up. And he made you feel it, the cold tip of his sword gently tapping your chin, forcing you to look up at him. You prayed that he didn’t notice the color on your cheeks.

“You're distracted too easily.” He looked serious for once, that glint of smugness had left his eyes for just a moment. “I win again.” And there it was again, that stupid smile of his. He dropped his sword and held out a hand to help you up. You let him pull you up, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Did you get what you wanted out of this fight?” You asked, and he nodded. “Much better than trying to teach the newbies not to drop their swords while fighting.”

“Good,” you turned to walk away, but he grabbed your wrist. “Same time tomorrow?”

You could’ve said no, could’ve walked away, could’ve done ANYTHING, but instead, you looked at him and said, “Sure thing.”

[lurafita]

I’m scuttling all over Tumblr to find a very specific shadowhunter idea! I forgot to like it and it’s lost to the depths.

Is it you that has a post about time traveling, but instead of Malec, it’s the rest of the squad (Clace & Sizzy)?

Hi! :-)

I did post something like this, but I hadn't given it a lot of detail, so it might not be the one you are looking for. But here is the link:

I think it would be an interesting read to kinda see such a plot from the other side of things? Because usually when such a story comes up, the reader is with the one who does the time traveling, right?

And I always wondered, without the context from the time traveler character, without having been there with them, how much would one connect with the non-time-traveling characters, who get told about all this and have to somehow deal with that?

How believable is that, how do the characters react to it, how do you write the kinda dialoge that needs to happen here? (because most of what I have seen, was like a kind of cut away where it's like: 'and then character a told character b everything that had happened and how it all ended with them traveling back in time). And usually I like that, because having been with the time traveling character, I am aware of all that had happened and I don't need to read about it being retold in detail, right? But to see it from the other side? To be with the character who has no idea what all this is about and is suddenly bombarded with people they don't know and a story of a future that supposedly happens unless stuff is changed and... this is just so interesting to me, you know?

And especially seeing how Magnus and Alec would react to that and deal with it and how then so many things would be changed and how these changes would affect other things and how then more changes happen and... I just get lost in all of it and I love it. XD

Anyway, hope the link will help, and if it's not the one you are looking for, then I hope you will find it soon.

Have a wonderful day! :-)

[rosie-posie1313]

Aemond Targaryen Fic Recs I 🐉

Masterlists

House of the Dragon masterlist  By @thesithdiaries

ASOIAF CHARACTERS MASTERLIST By @frankcastleonlyfans

Aemond Targaryen Fanfics By @psycheflame

Fic Recs

The Northener who tamed the dragon By @heartysworld

Your beauty never scared me By ^

Gods Eye Prequel By ^

The Sweetest Betrayal  By @ladyviserra

The Sweetest Betrayal By ^

The Sweetest Betrayal pt 3 By ^

Strong words  By @osferth

a family divided By ^

𝘽𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙤𝙣 By @chloesolace

𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯 [𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 2] By ^

Pretty Thing By @aemondtargaryenswhore

Angst blurb By ^

Vhagar By ^

Sleepily in Love By @thestoryden

Drawing the Lines By ^ (A)

The Next Morning By ^ (F)

You Belong To Me By @mybeautifuldelirium (A/F)

Pt4: under the dragons eye By @gay-dorito-dust (A)

demolition lovers  By @sainttherezia

Of Fire & Blood Headcanons (Part One). By @midnight-fairee

Of Fire & Blood Headcanons (Part Two). By ^

Little Secrets: One By @qarl-grimes

Little Secrets: Two By ^

Is This What You Wanted  By @nonalie

Moral Turpitude - The One-Eyed Prince (Pt. 1) By @aemondbreakbones

BLACK BRIDE pt 6 By @highqueensworld

Family Ties  By @vivalarevolution

As Beautiful As Endless By @two-white-butterflies

Always Meant to be Together By @mybeautifuldelirium

Amusement  By @theficthatwaspromised

Headcanon for a ball By @factorydefaultlu

The Tournament By @afro-hispwriter

A Good Wife By ^

Letters By ^

Growing Pains By @lilibethwrites

LINGERING IN OUR MEMORIES By @goldsainz

midnight escapade By @jacesbeloved

Aemond being your childhood best friend who’s obviously not in love with you By @jacaeryswhore

Your beauty never scared me By @yourwonkywriter

Your beauty never scared me pt 2 By ^

Tell me the story By ^

You make it better By @star-girl69

To young for war, too beautiful for battles By @simpingland

Wolfs and dragons, both have claws and teeth By ^

A new life  By @demiguisemoon

I know yours  By @bookofbonbon

Love Lost  By ^

a welcome distraction By @good4olivia

don’t you love me? By @endless-ineffabilities

possessive Aemond By @factorydefaultlu

aemond showing his sapphire eye By @gay-dorito-dust

I’m the mess that you wanted By @thegreatestsandwich

The Dragon Dance By @dreamcatcher2113

The Dragon Dance By ^

UNLIKE HIS FATHER By @sansaorgana

DRAGONS BANE By @house-strong

Keeper of his Heart By @factorydefaultlu

in the still of the night By @saltywritings

Uncle Aemond to the rescue? By @cryptaris

“the dreamer” part 2 By @yummycastiel

My Fierce Lady By @runningmunson

A divine tribute and a divine prince. By @yzzart

A dragon knows a dragon. By ^

Now I’m here, with you. By ^

Blood of my Blood By @ultralightpoe

Salt the Earth Behind You By ^

No other remorse By @shawty-writes-a-little

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Running so fast to your inbox!!!!!!

Smut list 2, number 28

And him!

Salivating!!!!!

Daddy's Sweetheart

PAIRING || Husband!Lloyd Hansen x Bimbo!Wife!Fem!Reader x Mobster!Steve Rogers

WORDCOUNT || ~ 700 words

SUMMARY || You've been married to one of the most feared men in the entirety of the United States. As soon as he met you - his kind, soft-spoken wife - he knew he had to have you, and when you allowed him to use you whenever he pleased, he couldn't be happier.

RATING || Mature (M)

TAGS || Established relationship. Bimbo!Reader. Soft!Lloyd.

SMUT || Daddy kink. Exhibitionism. Voyeurism. Dirty talk. Referenced unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!).

A/N || This drabble is part of Nicoline's Summer of Drabbles. Jen, as soon as I saw you requesting Lloyd, I immediately got excited! This is my first time writing about him, so I hope I have done him justice - I also can't wait to write more for him in the future! This isn't proofread; any and all mistakes are my own. 🤍

EVENTS @anyfandomaubingo || Mobster!Steve Rogers @lloydssluts LHWC '24 || "You know what I love about you?"

Photo: Source || All other graphics are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

Main Masterlist || Lloyd Hansen || Summer of Drabbles

"You know what I will never understand, Hansen? You have such a pretty thing walking around here, clad in dresses that barely cover anything, yet you're still one of the grumpiest men I've ever known. Maybe you just need to fuck her real good for once, and you're suddenly a whole new man."

Lloyd listens to the man across from him - the famous mobster Steve Rogers, right-hand man to mob boss James "Bucky" Banes - with a relaxed expression, not in the least fazed about how he talked about you—his wife.

"Is that so?" Lloyd asks nonchalantly, swishing the glass of whiskey back and forth a few times before making eye contact with the blond mobster.

"Well, why don't I do that right now while you watch? Let's see if my mood changes after I fuck her brains out until she can't think of anything else than me until she's begging me to stop after I've pumped her so full of my cum it'll be dripping down her thighs for days."

Lloyd's demeanor hasn't changed at all as the words leave his lips, while Steve is certainly interested. With one push of a button, Lloyd summons you to the office - a place you usually only visit when he needs to let out some steam by fucking you until you're nothing but a limp mess in his arms. Within less than a minute, you knock on the heavy wooden doors, a flurry of butterflies going wild in your stomach at your husband's voice.

"There she is! Can you come here for a moment, Sweetheart?" Lloyd says, love clear in his voice. Steve's face contorts at the apparent difference in behavior - he's not used to seeing the soft side of the man across from him. The warmth on your cheeks spreads as you walk into the office, your short, pink sundress fluttering around your hips as you walk in, giving a smile to Steve as you do.

"Hi, Mr. Rogers," you say in a soft tone before bending down to give your husband a gentle kiss on his lips. As you do, you're giving Steve a look at everything beneath your dress and the fact you're usually pantyless when your husband is home.

"C'mere, Sweetheart. Daddy needs you to do something for him, but only if you're a good girl for me, okay? Mr. Rogers has been saying some not-so-nice things about us, and I want to prove him wrong by fucking you right here on my desk. How does that sound?"

"Really?" you say softly, a small pout on your lips as you look at Lloyd, but he squeezes your hip reassuringly. It's okay. Once you give the go-ahead - your husband would never do anything without your consent, after all - he gets up, pushing you with your thighs against the desk, a soft gasp leaving your lips as you feel his erection pressing into the soft flesh of your stomach.

"You know what I love about you?" Lloyd asks, his soft gaze still focused on your curious one as his fingers glide over the skin of your cheek.

"That you're such an easy little girl, letting Daddy do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. No matter who's watching," the grumble of Lloyd's voice sends a shiver down your spine, only turning you on more as you squeeze your thighs together.

''Yes, Daddy, only for you," you whisper as you crane your neck to make eye contact, making Lloyd smile before he leans in, capturing your lips in a deep, dominating kiss that has you melting in your spot as he does. Without pulling away, he helps you up on the desk as he steps between your legs, his erection now pressing against your bare pussy.

Steve's shifting somewhat uncomfortably in his seat as he tries to adjust himself at the sight in front of him, as he sees how willing you are for your husband.

"Let's give Mr. Rogers a show he'll never forget, okay?" Lloyd asks, and you nod as you shift to lie on your back, your head hanging off the other side of the desk, facing Steve. Lloyd quickly frees his achingly hard cock, smirking as he sees your hole clenching around nothing.

The first moment his tip lines up with your dripping hole, a soft whine leaves your lips, the moment feeling even more intense as you make direct eye contact with Steve. However, the next words out of Steve's mouth have you clenching too as a soft moan escapes your lips, while Lloyd grins.

"Take it like a good girl, and stop whining."

[atlaswav]

EMPYREAN ☾

INFO: 4385 words, dr ratio x gn!reader, college au SYNOPSIS: Art is the practice of capturing life in still motion, and yet Dr Ratio can never seem to capture your beauty in its entirety in his sketches. His waking thoughts are clouded by images of you, the bane of his existence. He hates it, but can't resist. The Gods - if there are any - are cruel. WARNINGS: none! for once! except attempted kiss. AUTHOR'S NOTE: my head hurts so bad rn and i need sleep but there were thoughts in my mind. also i think its really boring lowkey but hey! i said i'd publish something by sunday! also i think his characterisation is really off today but oh well.

Divinity wasn’t real. There were no real Gods, they didn’t exist – couldn’t. Science proved such. Miracles were situations of insurmountable luck, and no one’s fate was “ordained” like astrology maniacs liked to think. 

But when Icarus fell from the great skies of myth, reaching for the sun and Gods and the heavens beyond, Veritas Ratio was sure that the gnawing terror and morbid awe that seized that man at the sight below was familiar to him. That sprawling city touched by the sublime sun, smiled upon with the benevolent God peering through the clouds whose gaze melted fragile wax. 

He was sure that that fear and unprecedented awe was the same as when he first glimpsed you. 

His fall, however, wasn’t graceful or worthy of any legend. 

“Oh– you alright?” 

“My apologies, I–” he glanced up, leaning down to immediately pick up his sketchbook which had fallen to the ground, then he froze. 

“...Are you okay?”

This, he wasn’t certain. You helped him gather his supplies again, and he thought he’d never see you again – there were so many buildings and so many classes, why would he? But as if fate was stringing him along, he wound up sitting next to you for his art studies class. The class he convinced himself he needed to take for a proper education.

Icarus’ fall was met with swift demise, and he was so sure that he would too. But who was he to compare himself to legends? Even still, why else would he be stricken by the malady of your existence, if you weren’t some overwhelming beauty that his greed desired to capture? 

Art, however, could not capture life as any man would like. It could never catch the way light reflected in the eyes, illuminating the soul. Neither the delicate intricacies of a smile, a twitch of muscle, a beating of a butterfly’s wings, the delicacy of life.

Try as one might, however, Dr Ratio aimed to do this, anyway. Charcoal was his chosen medium, pervading clean paper, marking intent, focus and desperation. 

He remembered you casting him a smile before seating yourself beside him, and all his doubts in taking the art course dissipated from his mind – despite your literal run in moments before. 

You became immersed in the artwork at your fingertips as the professor chirped about something he should’ve probably been attentive to, but to him, it was now entirely meaningless. Your cheeks lifted when you smiled, creasing the corners of your eyes. Your hair fell over your face in graceful lines that framed your features, and your hands moved with such gentle dexterity that he yearned to capture them in his drawings. Your eyes narrowed in the slightest as your brush met the canvas, mouth agape with your fixation on your art. 

The charcoal snapped, and Veritas Ratio likewise snapped from his immersion, frowning at the dark lines that marred the page. 

In his sketch, your eyes were obscured by a wall of smudged black ash instead of the curtain of hair that covered your features. Ratio sighed, leaning back from the desk. Your eyes were now downcast on your palette as you mixed paints. 

There was a divinity in you that he yearned to capture, like sunlight in a jar. Futile, but with noble intention, he swore to himself. 

Then, there were more classes. More days that passed, more instances where he observed your habits, your artwork that had you enrapt, just as he imagined his own perverse captivation with you. There were more charcoal sketches in sketchbooks that never saw the light of day, ones where your smile was too wide, didn’t meet your eyes, or didn’t carry the exact expression that yours projected. 

Art could never imitate life – Veritas was simply mortal. But mortals could always dream of something divine.

There were times where he left the classroom for a moment, and he feared you might glance over at his sketchbook to see the hundreds of sketches of yourself. Smiling and frowning and focused, the end of your paintbrush sitting absently between your lips, your gaze cast to the side, small splatters of paint smudged under your eyes and on your fingers. It was unsettling. He knew it himself. There had to be an extent to his observation when it became invasive, yet he feared losing your presence without ever capturing it in still motion. 

This is when a man grows desperate. 

“May I draw you?”

“...draw me?” you glanced towards him, reluctantly tearing your gaze from your own work. “Why?”

“A study.”

You smiled a half smile. An expression that he was familiar with, given that you were already halfway through the semester. Still, there was nothing to your encounters but smiles of courtesy and niceties (he’d never admit that he so desired more).

“Sure. Show it to me later.”

Now, Dr Ratio discovers, there are few things that may disturb a man’s endeavours when he is enrapt in his studies. None of which affected Veritas in the slightest as his charcoal became dust on his fingers and he clicked his tongue at the material’s reluctance to bend at his will. 

None of which can successfully capture the being that is you, and he isn’t sure he wants to, anymore. Art isn’t made for the eyes of greed, it’s made for the soul that yearns for the cure of the senses. Or so the greats all say, but he thinks he cannot be one of them. He couldn’t imitate life, he was versed in the calculations of life instead. 

Caught in his thoughts, he taps his – new – stick of charcoal on the edge of the drawing pad, frowning at the new sketch he was pondering. 

“You’re really good.” your voice echoes from behind him. 

He turns abruptly to find you standing behind him, head tilted as you examine his sketches. Your nose scrunches the tiniest bit, and your eyes crinkle with a hint of mirth.

“Does my nose really look like that?”

“Of course.”

You laugh at his blunt reply. “Can I see your other drawings?”

There are over seven thousand languages that still exist in the world, and Veritas Ratio cannot think of a better, more dire way to say no than to agree completely. 

“Of course.” He flips through his sketchbook quietly, letting you glimpse his insanity. You were making him lose his mind, really. He watches your expression – how your eyes widen, your lips part, your brows furrow. 

“Did you do all of this since the last lesson?”

No, but he wouldn’t say that – 

“No, I've been studying you for a while.”

– Or maybe he would. 

Your laugh is another divine thing that he wishes he can capture. “Oh God, I’m embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. You make a good muse.” 

“Do I?”

He nods, biting his tongue. He doesn’t want to incriminate himself any further than he already has, and he’s already become a stalker to you. 

“Is that a compliment?”

“Yes. Undoubtedly.” 

“Consider me flattered, then…” 

“Dr Ratio. Veritas. Veritas Ratio.”

“...Veritas.” 

He loves the way your lips mouth his name. He’d never say it to your face, though. This, at least, would die with him. 

“Well, thank you. You may return to your painting.”

You huff a laugh. “So formal. I’m nearly done, so I don’t really have anything urgent to worry about. Meanwhile you…”

He’s inclined to agree. The professor was checking everyone’s progress the next lesson, and he still hadn’t grasped what he thought to have been perfect. 

“Ah. Right.”

“Do you want me to like… pose for you or something?”

He hesitates. Why? He doesn’t know. Maybe something about morality and art and the truth, but he doesn’t care anymore. “That… would be ideal.”

“Alright, but you’ll owe me as well. Deal?”

This is how Veritas Ratio finds himself pacing his apartment, fixing his hair in the mirror, dusting the tops of the bookshelves that line the walls and polishing the kitchen counter so that each surface is devoid of any evidence of his own guilty conscience. 

His anxieties were immediately multiplied hundredfold when you knocked. He waited a couple of seconds – to not seem too desperate, with his heart racing out of his chest – then finally opened the door. 

You stood there, smiling with such casual ease that he found himself wanting to know everything about you. 

It was absurd. 

A tiny, suppressed part of him welcomed it. 

“Hey, Veritas,” 

There it was again, the unfamiliar way you said his name, smile widening. He decided against a verbal reply, instead nodding and guiding you into his living room. 

“You’re so… clean.” you glanced about the apartment, marvelling at how almost every surface had a shine to it. But it made sense, once you saw him sitting at the couch, already observing you with the unshakeable gaze you’d felt since that first class. 

You weren’t entirely oblivious to his stare, just as you weren’t unobservant with the way his cheeks dusted with pink the day before – and today, it seemed – as he made eye contact. 

You smiled, and watched him blink a couple of times before turning away with a cleared throat. 

“Yes. I can’t stand a mess of any sort.”

“Figured.” you shrugged, standing next to him. “So, where do you want to start? What should I do?”

He hesitated for a second before directing you to the armchair across from him. “Just sit there for now. We’ll start here.”

You complied, allowing him to hurriedly arrange the folds of your clothes and angle of your limbs with fleeting touches. 

He appeared nervous, but it was endearing. 

Minutes pass by in silence, faint scratching of charcoal on paper filling the space between you. The sunset’s light poured in through the balcony behind you, casting a dramatic shadow over the armchair. Purple, orange, yellow – you wondered if that scrutinising look he gave you was disapproval or awe. There was no way of telling, with his complex set of facial-expressions. 

But interpreting him through guesses wasn’t how you envisioned this would play out. 

You cleared your throat, but he didn't glance up. He held the sketchbook up next to you, but quickly returned to the page, making harsh lines across the page. 

“So… Veritas?”

His head snapped up, stray strands of violet hair splayed across his forehead. “Yes?”

“Why did you take art?”

His eyes narrowed on you. Examining, maybe. “I felt as if I needed to. For a well rounded study, of course.”

You laughed. “Of course you did.”

At this, he paused. “What do you mean by this?”

“Your reputation on campus. You have… what, four degrees? You’re famous.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, never putting down the charcoal, but tapping it against his fingers instead. “Oh? What else have you heard?”

“Well, they say you’re insanely smart, but you’re also pretentious.”

He frowned. The way his brows scrunched was endearing. “I’m not pretentious. Everyone else is simply far underqualified.”

“They also say that you’re an elitist.” you laughed. 

Concern only grew on his expression. “Do you think this of me?”

You shrugged. “I’m yet to form an opinion.”

He nodded. “Good. Wise.” he said, almost as if reassuring himself. 

“...How long will this be, though? I can only sit still for so long.”

He blinked, turning to the sketchpad again. “Not too long. I promise.”

“Can we go out to dinner, afterwards?” 

At this, he choked. You stifled a laugh at the renewed blush on his cheeks. 

“Dinner? Why?”

“You owe me, don’t you?”

This is when he realises that he was a fool in allowing you in, to allow the muse of his most divine visions to become human. 

He’s greedy, though. No one and nothing can change this. He wanted more of you. He wanted to hear each thought that crossed your mind and know each little item that occupied your attention. He wanted to dissect your mind and examine your memories and behaviours like an insect splayed under a glass, and he wanted to understand you so well that he became sick with the thought of you. But in his mind, you could do no wrong. You were so divine; with your secret smiles that held secret thoughts, and knowing glances that examined his frame with an artist’s scrutinising eye. 

“Fine. Just let me finish up.”

So you stay put, and you return to the thick silence that envelops the room. The clock ticking above the armchair only taunts you as your limbs begin to ache from lack of movement. 

Scratching on paper, huffs of exasperation, the occasional tearing of a page, and he finally sighs, rising from the couch. The sun had long since set, only remnants of daylight still lingering on the sky’s deep blue. The light was gone. You wondered if he’d captured the sun in his drawing, as well. 

“It’s done. Not good as the professor would like, but it will do for now.” he said, running a hand – dusted with black – through his hair. His forehead was coated in splotches of black thumb prints. 

You similarly rose from the armchair, stretching, and walked over to the drawing on the coffee table. 

You didn’t realise this was how you looked to him. Your features were only emphasised in the dramatics of the sunset, the slight turn of your lips and curve of your cheekbones accentuated with the shadows. He’d taken artistic liberty, you realised, in painting you within the sun’s dying light. 

You almost looked divine. 

“Holy shit.”

“Does that hold a negative connotation?”

“Veritas, you’re crazy.”

“...negative?”

“It’s so…” you met his gaze which was already searching yours for a reaction. “It’s brilliant. It’s so, so good.”

His shoulders relaxed as he sighed. “Good. Let’s go to dinner, then.” he turns to leave, but you stop him, grabbing his arm. You found that it was hard as chiselled marble, and almost want to find out exactly what’s underneath, but you dismiss the thought. 

“You have something on your forehead.” you point. 

He frowned, rubbing his forehead with the same hand that had been gripping the charcoal for the past hour. Smudged it even further. His forehead was thinly coated in black ash.

You sighed. “Here, let me.” 

He leaned down for you to wipe the stains, hair hanging over his eyes. He smelled faintly of the library with its old books, and partly of ink with something deeper. His eyes darted around to meet anything but your gaze, long lashes fluttering, crimson red eyes matching the shade of his complexion. 

You make him nervous, you confirm with delight. 

“There. That’s the most of it.” you withdrew, and he stood back up quicker than you thought possible. 

“Alright, dinner, then.” 

“Dinner.”

“I’ll go and… wash up.”

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

He realised how much he was doomed as the sky started to pour with rain, just as the two of you stepped outdoors, beyond his apartment complex. 

“How far is the place you wanted to go?” he asked you.

“Not too far. Let’s just keep walking.”

He shrugged, falling into step beside you. His steps were terrifyingly large, as would make sense with his tall frame. 

“So what are your interests?” he blurts out, staring at the ground as he walks. 

“Well, art, obviously,”

“Yes, of course, do you think I’m dense?”

“Maybe a little.” 

“I will interpret that as sarcasm.”

You laugh, and as if the heavens had heard you, the rain began to fall heavier, darkening the landscape, tingeing the air with smells of petrichor and a cold that wasn’t there before. 

Ratio thought it was ironic. A pathetic fallacy of his doomed fate. 

“You have to be kidding me.”

He sighed, massaging his temples with his fingers. “We are unfortuitous.”

“...You could’ve said unlucky.”

“I choose not to associate myself with idiots.”

You chuckle as you attempt to cover your head with your arms, running to the nearest block for shelter. The rain, however, doesn’t desist. It continues to pour until you’re both soaked through – his hair soaking wet, sticking to his forehead, white shirt clinging to his carved abdomen that you desperately try to avoid looking at. 

“Should we just go back?” you move your hair out of your eyes, squinting in the relentless downpour. Through the slight shelter of the building behind you two, the rain pours heavy as ever, unlikely to cease soon. 

“I was waiting for you to come to that conclusion.”

“...Why didn’t you offer it first?”

Because he thought you looked good in the rain with wet hair. He wanted to remember the image – burn it into his eyelids – before he returned to sketch it. Number of things he’d never say aloud: two.

“I was waiting for you to come to that conclusion yourself.”

“Pretentious.”

“Thank you. Now can we hurry? It’s only getting heavier.”

His situation, ironically, then becomes even more perilous. A series of unfortunate events, unfolding like a train of misfortunes. First, your meeting – strikingly uncomfortable for both of you, he imagined (it certainly was for him) – then your failed attempt at dinner, interrupted by an unforgiving rain storm. He didn’t think it could get much worse. But there was always room for improvement, as he knows better than anyone, the academic that he is. 

There are, now, puddles of water throughout Dr Ratio’s apartment that he hadn’t bothered to clean since you got into his shower.

You, in his shower. 

He wonders if there is a God, somewhere out there, delighting in his torment. It was never supposed to devolve into such interactions, only observing you long enough to capture your beauty on the page. 

He wonders if you know he is thinking about you often as he does. Thinks you’d be completely repulsed by him. This is what frightens him. 

“Veritas?” your voice echoes from within the house. 

He gets up from where he’s sitting in a puddle near the kitchen, racing to the bathroom at your call. Did he manage to miss something incriminating in his bathroom? He’d made sure that every surface was bare before you entered, had he not?

“Yes?”

“...This is embarrassing. Can you please get me a towel?” 

This felt like one of those cliches in romantic comedies that Ratio’s colleagues liked to watch. Mindless scenes of dry humour and burlesque attempts at “comedy” he found appalling. It was happening to him, now. Spiting his academic rigidity. 

“Of course. One moment.”

He tries not to think about you, standing completely bare behind the door, as he sticks a hand into the bathroom, head turned away. If you looked closer, you’d have seen the bright red shade of his ears – but to his merit, you take the towel, shutting the door, a muffled “thank you” audible through the door. 

He sighs, sitting on the floor beside the bathroom. 

Whatever Gods there were, were bestowing great suffering on him today. 

It takes a couple minutes for you to finish up in the bathroom. Another few more for him to wash up, and another handful of minutes for you both to be seated on the couch together in awkward silence. 

You wear one of Ratio’s old shirts and shorts, scrolling on your phone, and he is sitting, arms crossed, on the opposite end of the couch, staring at you again. Outside, the rain still pours in unceasing rivulets, dissipating any ideas for going out for dinner. 

He thinks his clothes look far better on you than on him. Thinks that you were made for this world and its inhabitants, crafted so perfectly. Wonders what wouldn’t suit your wear, because he can’t imagine anything that you couldn’t look good in. 

“Okay,” you say, turning off your phone to stare back at him, “I ordered. Should be here in about ten minutes.” 

He nods, and averts his gaze. 

You smile. His behaviour is amusing.  

“Veritas?”

“Yes?”

“What are your greatest fears?”

“Excuse me?”

You shuffle closer, and he notes a glint in your eye that suggests mischief. Teasing, as he’d seen before. “What are you afraid of? Like, the dark?”

“Nothing.”

“Boring. Come on, there’s gotta be something.” 

He frowns, brows bunching together as he stares at the wall. An easy, natural habit. “Nothing. Fear is irrational.”

“Right.” you laugh at his blatant refusal to cooperate with you. 

“Am I being funny?”

“No,”

“Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’re being so… unexpectedly childish.”

“What?” he seems to prickle up with indignation. “What do you mean?”

“Your stubbornness to just answer my question, and the way you’re…” you gesture to his posture, the way his arms are folded and he glares at the wall. “Behaving. It’s childish.”

“Well, what are you afraid of? Nothing, right? It’s a stupid question.”

“I’m afraid of insects, the dark, I could go on, really,”

Veritas glares at you, meeting your eyes for a second. “Fear is stupid.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you scared of holding eye contact?”

At this, he blinks. He turns to face you, still frowning, but his gaze flickers between your eyes and the rest of your face. Your laugh only makes him roll his eyes. 

“You really can’t hold eye contact, can you?” you say through a fit of giggles. “Have you ever dated?”

“Yes, I can hold eye contact,” – but not with you, it seemed. You intimidated him – “And no, I haven’t, it’s a distraction.”

“From what I’m seeing, you can barely even be near me without blushing.”

He blushes, breathing a sigh of exasperation. 

“Dr Veritas Ratio’s one fear is making eye–”

Then he grabs your shoulders, forcing you closer, and holds your gaze with such intensity that the words disappear from your lips. You blink as his stare bores into yours, crimson eyes deep, shining with something unfamiliar to you that you realise you want to decipher. 

People like to say that eyes are the windows to the soul, and Veritas Ratio’s was ridden with something that burned like the sun's dying light. 

It’s then that you realise how close you are to him, how his firm grip on your shoulders softens and his touch drifts to hover above your jaw, how he smelled so inviting, familiar and distant all at once, and how his lips were slightly parted, how they looked so soft –

Knocking, at the front door. 

You both tear away, and he stumbles to the front door to collect your delivery. 

You never regret anything more than this moment. 

“Delivery.”

You nod, obscuring your face with your hair as he sets down your meal on the coffee table. 

You’re both back to silence, pleasantries and common niceties as the meal passes. 

Neither of you meet the other’s eye. 

Time ticks away as you finish your food and clean up, wiled away by carefully weighed words and half-met glances. 

He hates it. 

He hates how you were looking at him with such curiosity, and he hates how he let you tease him. He also hates the delivery man for not being delayed by the rain, but he also hates himself for not ignoring the knocks on his front door. 

“I think I should go now.”

Yes, that would be best. “Why? It’s still raining, you could stay.”

“Well…”

He knows your dorm is far from his apartment complex. He knows that you’ll have to trek through the rain, and yet he also knows that if you stay, he won't be able to sleep. He still has images of you – fresh in his mind – to sketch onto the page. 

“It’s no trouble.”

“Okay. I’ll stay the night.”

“You can sleep in my room.”

“But–”

“Don’t argue.”

Somehow, you’re inclined to do as he says. 

Time, like all things, passes too quickly and too slowly all at once. Without time, nothing exists, but with it, it’s all too agonising to live through. 

This is exactly how Dr Ratio feels as he sits at the coffee table, the small space dimly illuminated by a lamp, as the entire apartment is still. You’re probably sleeping, as he reminds himself, tearing another page out of his sketchbook, unsatisfied with his own hand. 

The rain was now tame, a steady rhythm to his never-ending endeavours to capture your beauty on the page. 

Maybe it’s when the charcoal snaps in his hands, or maybe it’s when his lamplight flickers that he decides that capturing life in still motion is helpless – a pointless and impossible venture that can never succeed. 

You’re too deific to fit into a world of his creation. 

What are supposed to be your eyes – painted with fervour, but lacking depth – stare up into the ceiling as he dozes off, charcoal falling from his hand, eyes drooping closed. Slivers of moonlight cut across your painted face as he slumps onto the table, snoring softly.

—

You wake to sunlight in your eyes, blinding and harsh, and realise where you are. 

It all smells like him – that scent that you can’t place that smells good, and a lingering smell of the library with all its papers. It all smells like him, and when you walk into the living room, you find that his own apartment is completely devoid of any sense of himself. 

But when you find him slumped at the coffee table, lamplight still illuminating the space with its curtains drawn and rays of sunlight peering through, he’s obsessed with you. 

You’re unsure what, exactly, to feel. There are abandoned pages scattered all throughout the space, and unfurling one, you recognise your own face staring back at you. 

Each and every drawing is of you – your hair wet, clinging to your skin, you drowning in his clothes far too large for you, or your face painted with curiosity and entrapment. 

It’s you through Veritas’ gaze, and you think that beyond all else, he made you look divine. 

When Veritas Ratio wakes to his papers – all wrinkled and partly torn – sitting in front of him, neatly arranged with a note on top, realisation hits him, but he can only laugh. 

“Veritas Ratio’s greatest fear: eye contact with the person he’s obsessed with. Completely irrational – even though he can draw me perfectly from memory. A shame, really. Looks like you’ll have to invite me over to pose for you again.

So you can get my eyes right, of course.”

written by @atlaswav , published 26th of August 2024