#the east light oneshot

[midnighvtm4ss]

Rosemary

Summary: who would have thought that a small piece of paper could be the very thing that would crush your dreams with Arthur ? part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

AO3 link (better rewritten version of this fic on ao3)

pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

content: suggestive, angst, hurt/no comfort (for now) probs grammar errors srryy

wc: 2k

a/n: hear me out, I thought about writing a jealous!reader oneshot with Arthur but,, I got a bit carried away and so many ideas came into my mind so I was thinking about making this a mini series with a pt.2. Let me know if you’d be interested in a pt.2 <33 (gif from pinterest)

Nothing was more relaxing to you than fixing some of Arthur’s shirts and pants while sitting outside your shared tent.

Seated on a small cushion placed on the ground with your back against one of Arthur’s chests your hands worked delicate but precise movements mending the cotton of his favorite black shirt. The rays of light sparkling from the east coast of the flat iron lake at Clemens Point casting a golden halo around you and the usual buzzing of camp making you feel at ease, letting you loose yourself in your thoughts.

During these moments your mind often drifted to thoughts about you and Arthur, the way he would make you feel all warm inside like a young naive teenager with just his soft glances and loving touches, how he would make you dream some of the craziest things for a couple of outlaws like yourselves like having a proper family with him, getting proper married before god and maybe even owning your very own ranch at some point.

Your dreamy stream of thoughts was soon interrupted as Mary Beth’s light footsteps on the dry grass could be heard coming towards your direction, with a strange expression you couldn’t quite decipher on her face and a small letter in her hands. As she saw you sitting down near yours and Arthur’s tent her fair features twisted into an anxious manner, her expression resembling the one of someone who just ate a whole lemon in one go, her steps faltering almost imperceptibly before continuing her path towards your shared tent.

“Hiya Miss,” she said in a chirpy tone, her voice higher than usual as she stopped in front of you, her eyes looking around avoiding your confused gaze as she played with the paper edge of the letter in her delicate hands.

“Arthur hasn’t come back yet ?” Strange. Her voice cracked a little at the end. She quickly cleared her throat with a small smile. Mary Beth's usual cordial and friendly façade cracked the more she was near you, letting you see her unusual unease.

“‘M afraid not, he said he was going into town for some ‘deputy thing’ with the Grays, why ? Did something happen ?” you replied imitating Arthur’s low voice and accent as you put down his shirt which was now fixed and your sewing kit. At your failed attempt at imitating his accent Mary Beth let out a small laugh, covering her smile with her free hand, relaxing just a tiny bit before regaining her previous composure.

Smoothing out the white envelope in her hands she handed it over to you, as you took it you couldn’t help but notice the sender’s name written in what you called a ‘fancy cursive’. You weren’t exactly good at reading or writing but the fancy ink swirls made out a familiar name.

The sender was Mary Linton.

“It’s for Arthur, it arrived this morning,” she told you looking at you with something in her eyes you couldn’t quite make out. Was it a shared distaste for the woman in question or was it perhaps pity toward you what you could see reflected in her eyes ?

You weren’t a stranger to who Mary Linton was, having joined the gang when you were eighteen and Arthur fresh of twenty-six you knew who Mary was, how she was Arthur’s first love, the woman he almost married if it wasn’t for her strict father not approving his lifestyle. The woman who completely shattered his heart.

You knew that after his breakup with Mary he was distraught, drinking and sleeping around almost every night before eventually getting one of the girls he slept with pregnant with his son Isaac. How he, from time to time, went to Eliza’s cabin and visited them, never failing to bring sweets and shiny toys for his Isaac who met him with a toothy little smile every time Arthur visited them until one day the only thing Arthur was met was an empty robbed cabin and Eliza’s lifeless body hugging Isaac’s one.

For almost a year you helplessly witnessed Arthur, the gang’s main enforcer, spiraling more and more into a toxic lifestyle. He began to drink more, often found sitting near the campfire drunk every night, his actions during jobs sloppy and reckless not sparing a single ounce of mercy for whoever dared to wrong him. His mood around camp bringing everyone down until one day you decided you had enough.

He had just come back from a job went wrong with Hosea, the older man's sour mood perceptible from miles away as he hitched his horse and quickly walked away to his tent, leaving Arthur behind talking pretty much to himself how it wasn’t his fault and he didn’t do anything wrong, the pungent scent of alcohol surrounding the space around him. Seeing the scene in front of you you quickly put down your cleaning rag and marched towards him giving him a loud earful in front of everyone in camp not caring that he was a 6’1 massive killing machine of an outlaw and eight years older than you and that you were the last addition to camp making you a nobody in the eyes of what was basically Dutch’s golden child. You simply had enough.

From that moment onwards Arthur started to get better, letting go of his usual whisky bottle and surprisingly starting to pay attention to you rather than avoiding or despising you, eyeing you with respect each time you expressed your opinion around camp, coming to your tent almost every night for advice or just to talk about life opening up to you about his family and past love building day by day an unexpected friendship which blossomed years later into your current relationship.

Seeing her name now again after so many years left you with a sour taste in your mouth.

You took the letter and placed it on Arthur’s nightstand as you thanked Mary Beth and began to tidy up your things.

The sky was beginning to lose its rosy color making space for a deep blue when Arthur came back, the gallop of his and Dutch horses announcing their arrival into camp.

You were chatting with Karen and Javier at the round table near the fire when you felt his hand on your shoulder, the scent of wood and gunpowder filling your nose letting you relax under his soft touch. He bent down to quickly kiss your cheek, a small show of pda which left you all warm inside, almost letting you forget about the letter. Almost.

“Hello sweetheart,” he said in his usual low tone near your ear, a shiver traveling down your spine at his vicinity a soft blush making its way into your cheeks.

“Miss Jones, Javier” he greeted your company before taking your hand in his calloused one letting you up from your seat and guiding you towards his tent leaving Karen and Javier sharing knowing glances between them.

As soon as you walked into your shared tent he made quick work of closing the flap before taking your face in his hands and kissing you. His soft kisses soon turned into hungry ones as his right hand left your soft cheek to trace down your neck then your collarbones before settling on your hips using your hips to guide you to lay on the bed.

“missed ya a lot today sweetheart,” he breathed on your neck as he positioned himself on top of you before kissing your sensitive spot, your eyes closed as your soft hands traveled onto his hair, tugging at his dirty blonde strands.

“got you in my mind the whole day, damn near made Dutch real name slip in front of them Grays. Jus’ couldn’t help but think ‘bout your pretty face.” he continued to kiss your sensitive skin, his words and his lips working like magic on you. His hands exploring your body inch by inch toying with the buttons of your white shirt.

As you open your eyes to look at Arthur you couldn’t help but remember the envelope sitting on his bedside table.

“Arthur,” you sighed trying to keep your voice stable but failing miserably as his teeth playfully bit your neck. The pleasure and the warmth of his body on top of yours was heavenly making you melt like butter under his touch but you were too curious to see what was in that letter to continue, your hands came on his shoulders to try and get the man off of you. “darling you, fuck, you’ve got a letter.”

As soon as you finished your sentence Arthur stopped his actions at once, his hands dropping on the soft mattress before getting up into a seated position beside you. He sighed as he ran his hands into his hair before taking the letter, his eyes quickly scanning the sender’s name before opening the envelope.

As his eyes read the elegant handwritten letter of Mary you couldn’t help but feel your heart beat out of your chest with anticipation, you knew it was stupid to feel this way but you couldn’t help but worry. Why is she mailing him after all these years of radio silence ? What did she want from him and how exactly did she know how to contact him ?

Deciding it was best to feign ignorance than to straight up get defensive and be viewed as possessive with Arthur you scooted closer to him, your head resting on his shoulder as you asked, trying your best to keep your façade, from who was the letter.

“Mh, nobody jus’ a sorry fellow I met.”

Your heart sank.

He lied to you. He lied to you without even an ounce of hesitation. A small ‘Oh’ left your lips as you didn’t know exactly how to respond, mind racing with many thoughts, the knowledge of his lie felt like an iced bucket of water was thrown at you, freezing you in your spot unable to move. A sense of nausea overtaking your body.

With a swift movement, he folded the letter and put it in the bottom drawer of the nightstand where other papers filled the small space. Turning back to face you he put one of his large hands on your cheeks caressing you with a delicacy that in that moment only made you further nauseous about the situation. His lips met your forehead, then your nose descending further down to your lips, too caught up in your thoughts you sat there unmoving. Arthur sensed your unusual attitude.

“y’alright sweetheart ?” he asked, you internally scoffed at his seemingly concerned expression. The nerve he had to be asking you that after he blatantly lied to your face.

“yeah just tired that’s all.” you dismissed him shifting on the bed and laying down on your side of the bed. You needed space to think, your mind going haywire. Was this the first time she mailed him ? Why was that as soon as you mentioned a letter he seemed to already know it was from her ? Why did Mary Beth act so strange when giving you the letter ? Why did he lie ? Why.

You wished you could let this go, forget about everything and melt back into his warm embrace, but you couldn’t. You had to find out what was going on.

Later that night when the outlaw was fast asleep beside you and the only sounds that could be heard were his soft snores that filled the space in your tent you found out that the other papers in the drawer were not random papers.

The drawer was full of Mary’s letters.

[capr1pengu1n]

hello!

I would LOVE to see you write a oneshot for Arkham City Eddie if you are interested? It's my birthday on October 18th and I just knew I wanted to request another piece from you to celebrate! You have full reign to make it as salacious as you would like. Fem reader, please, but could you maybe do a brat kink with pigtails or something? I love picturing him with a partner that acts like a brat just to get his attention. 😈

I appreciate you, friend!

Happy Halloween!!

Until the lights go down

Summary: Under Edward's protection in Arkham City, you quickly become bored of your routine, and hope to spice up your time by seducing your lover

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem reader (no use of y/n), dom!eddie, thigh riding, blowjobs, rough sex, slight threat at the start, threat of exhibitionism, praise + degradation

Words: 5k

Notes: Happy birthday to the lovely @adhdnursegoat !!! Thank you for being such a sweetheart for as long as we've been mutuals, I really hope you have fun with this, and most importantly have a great birthday! <3

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Boring is not the word that you would have assumed would be your descriptor for the hellish megaprison you’d been thrown into…but as you lay on your back on the lumpy mattress, that’s the one that springs to mind. Boredom sets in like a rot, the latest gunfire from somewhere vaguely to the east of the building not even making you flinch like it used to anymore.

You weren’t completely sure how long both you and Edward had been here, although your lover was taken first. Watching the news in slight horror and anxiety as you saw the coverage detailing his move into the controversial new prison, more like a holding pen for the corrupt and the insane. Well…the corrupt, insane, and you. What both you and Edward weren’t planning on was how thorough Hugo Strange had been; Edward had never so much as whispered about your relationship to anyone, despite how much he secretly ached for Gotham to see how easily a man as intelligent as him could get a girl as pretty and devoted as you, but somehow Strange knew about you both. You’d been practically abducted and taken, chest heavy with your panicked breaths as you'd gazed upon the psychologist who had orchestrated this ordeal.

“Ah, Mister Nigma’s little pet. I wonder, will he protect you? Or will you be too much of a liability? A distraction from whatever twisted little game he hopes to play.”

His tone you remember was icy and clinical, head tilted as his eyes moved up and down you. You’d bit your tongue, knowing that any outburst may result in further injuries than just the bruises blooming on your arms beneath the guard’s tight grip. You looked down, but he stepped forward and gripped your jaw with a harsh cruelty. “I believe he’ll throw you to the wolves, that’s all a sociopath like him is capable of. You’re nothing but a foolish little girl for thinking he cares about you any more than a lapdog who satiates his primal needs.”

You couldn’t contain the death glare that you shot at him. He dropped his hand, leaning away from you before signalling to his guards, and before you knew it, you were in the lion’s den, so to speak. Forced onto the ground, you’d quickly scrambled to your feet as you adjusted to your surroundings. And as you noticed the eyes blinking at you from the streets.

With a shaky breath, you quickly assessed the situation. You knew you were the equivalent of fresh meat in here, only made worse by the fact they hadn’t given you another set of clothes, so there you stood in your skirt and jumper they'd kidnapped you in. Footsteps echoed behind you, a couple of men clearly wanting to intimidate you by jeering and laughing. Thoughts of breaking into a sprint had entered your slightly dazed thoughts, however you remember the sudden loud gunshot had seized your body up as you ducked. You quickly realised however, that nobody had been shooting at you, when you hear the inmates behind you quickly back away and speak.

“Fuck, I thought nobody had seen him in here. I ain’t getting’ involved.”

Confused, you looked up to see Edward striding towards you, confident as ever with a revolver in his hand. He didn’t say a word as he grabbed a hold of your arm and pulled you along, and you can’t deny the slight sadistic joy you got from glancing at the other inmates’ intimidated faces. Turns out he’d paid two of Penguin’s muscle to escort you both to his hideout, but he hadn’t spoken a word the whole way back, jawline stuck in a harsh line.

Once you were back, he’d lamented how stupid it was that you were here, how he didn’t have time to play the role of babysitter and keep you safe, how much of an imbecile Strange was for making such an enemy of him. But with a little difficulty, he’d assured you that he would, in fact, keep you safe, and the tight grip he’d kept on you that night confirmed it.

But now…now you were bored. You understand why he’s forbade you from leaving, but each day seems to bleed together into one long stretch of dullness. Edward barely had time for you, too busy concocting his masterplan, so that left you to wander around the building over and over again. He’d told you that you were beneath the iceberg lounge in an abandoned train-yard, but you couldn’t hear that much coming from outside apart from the occasional explosion.

So alas, you have the same shitty cold shower you do every day (although at least Edward’s hideout granted you the luxury of a shower in the first place) before getting changed. He’d given you some clothes he’d managed to obtain that vaguely fit you, but you decide to wear the outfit you’d been thrown in with. That’s when you hatch your plan.

An awful decision really, truly you were asking for trouble, but at least trouble was something interesting. So you tie your hair up in loose pigtails, rolling your skirt up for maximum effect, and skip down to where you know Edward will be. He’s sat, endlessly tapping away at his keyboard while observing the many monitors he’s set up to feed him information. You can’t deny you’ve always been impressed with his ability to multitask so well.

Scribbling some notes down on a scrap piece of paper, he hardly heard you come in until you lightly brush your finger along his shoulder and say in the softest voice you could muster, “Eddie, I’m bored.”

Taking a quick glance at you, he laughs. “You look ridiculous dear, I hadn’t realised you were so desperate for attention you’d attempt to replicate Harleen’s look. Do you expect me to be interested?”

You roll your eyes, letting your finger wander up and down his shoulder and collarbone beneath the tattered green suit jacket. “C’mon Eddie…I know you’re interested.”

“Just because I don’t want you to die an undignified death on the streets by some thug, doesn’t mean that I will drop all of my important work because you’re bored. Why don’t you dig deep into your limited cognitive capabilities and find something to do?”

“There’s nothing to do.” You lament, not being bothered by his usual condescending tone.

“And that’s my problem how exactly? Be grateful I’m letting you stay here.” Huffing, you sit up on his desk as he scribbles something else down. “Get off my desk.”

“Edward come on.” You whine, knowing you were acting like a petulant child, but at least he was actually acknowledging you.

He rubs the bridge of his nose, glasses falling down a little. “Do you have any idea what I’m attempting to plan here? What am I even saying, of course you don’t.”

“Tell me then.” You challenge, appealing to the narcissistic part of his personality that longs to be praised and recognised.

Eyes narrowing for a moment, he sits back in the chair and relents, starting to explain his plan. You hear him detail how he’ll kidnap the medical staff sent in to look after the welfare of the inmates, but you can’t help your thoughts drifting as he speaks. Always loving his voice, you allow your mind to bathe in the sound, eyes flitting over him. He’s clearly stressed, but when isn’t he these days? His tie hangs loosely around his neck, and your fingers itch to fix it…or to have him rip it off in a desperate haze before using it to bind your wrists. You blink your way out of those thoughts, as he’s still explaining the master plan, hands waving to solidify his points.

Your gaze flits to them, the dark purple fingerless gloves drawing attention to his digits, cleaner than they usually are, most likely due to his informants building whatever is left of the various contraptions, leaving his hands free to scheme. What you wouldn’t give to have those hands wrapped tightly around your throat, holding you in place as he uses you. Or perhaps have them drag along your trembling form, feeling the leather contrasting your smooth skin as they reach their crude destination. Or even have those long digits filling up your needy cunt, curling in just the right way that he knows will have you gushing all over his hand.

You notice he isn’t wearing a belt either. How easy it would be to just crawl to your knees, unbutton his trousers and have him gasping and gripping your hair as you-

“You really aren’t listening to a word I’m saying, are you?” His firm tone forces you roughly from your salacious daydream, blinking at him dumbly. Laughing coldly, he continues, “Really? Nothing to say? Maybe you’d have an inch more of an intellect in that pretty head of yours if you could restrain yourself from eye-fucking me every chance you get.”

Feeling the flush burn in your cheeks, you decide to double down. “Can’t help it. Not when you look so good like that.”

His eyebrows raise. “When I’ve been in a hellhole that doesn’t even have hot water, that is when you find me the most desirable?”

Others may not have noticed any change from your lover, but you know him too well. You notice the way his shoulders have relaxed slightly, how his legs have parted just enough for you to see. So you metaphorically pounce, moving off his desk slowly before straddling his lap, legs on either side of him, making the chair squeak slightly. “When we’ve been here and you’ve hardly touched me, that’s when. Can’t help that I’m needy”

He allows you to sit on his lap, hands moving to hold your hips gently. “Ah, my pet is feeling neglected is she?” His tone is mocking, but his wolfish grin and the way his eyes dart to your lips show he’s feeling just as pent up.

You make a noise of affirmation, moving to shift your hips over him. “Yes…you need to do something Edward.”

“Do not order me around.” He says lowly, tutting, “I think you’re forgetting who is in charge here.”

You smile, finally getting what you want. “Who is in charge?”

Letting out a slight groan, he grabs your cheeks in his hand, squishing them. “Oh you’re really playing with fire, my dear.”

You give him the most doe-eyed look you can muster before he kisses you roughly. Moaning into his mouth, you feel his tongue push into your lips, claiming you quickly and completely. It’s hungry and desperate, saliva being swapped in a way that would cause even the most provocative person to blush. In return, you do a more deliberate grind of your hips, feeling satisfaction as he bucks up into you instinctively. He pulls away, a string of saliva connecting you both.

“So your plan was to wear that stupid hairstyle and slutty skirt in the hopes you’d seduce me into giving you what you want?” he mutters, eyes taking in your body on his lap. Often, he looks at you like he can’t quite believe how attracted you are to him. He’d never admit it of course, to anyone who dared to find out, he’d boast about how natural it is for a gorgeous girl like you to pursue a man of such high intellect, charisma and looks. But deep down, he’s shocked that you desire him like you do, how you’d willingly be on his lap, pawing for his attention.

You nod, knowing it’s best to not lie in this situation, to which he chuckles darkly. “Oh sweetheart, you really are filthy, aren’t you?”

At your slight giggle, he leans and kisses up your neck before whispering into your ear. “I think it’s time I remind you that I’m in control…that I decide when you get touched, when you get pleasured. Not you.”

When you consent, he hums in mock thought, fingers tracing down to your hips, before reaching the soft skin just below where your skirt ends. He taps it a few times, relishing in the way you practically vibrate at the small contact, before reaching up and up to feel the material of your underwear.

“It’s a good thing a mind such as mine prepares for any eventuality.” He boasts, and your momentary confusion is dissipated when he produces a small knife from his jacket, cutting the material so it falls undignified to the hard floor. You pout a little, it’s not like you have an abundance of panties in here, before he moves the sharp blade to your thigh, gently tracing. “Problem?”

You shake your head quickly; you love being a brat sure, but you aren’t completely certain you want to unlock whatever sadistic desires he could have while holding a sharp object. Luckily he seems satisfied with your pussy now being out, but instead of touching it he simply places the knife back in his jacket before maneuvering you so you’re straddling his thigh. Gripping your hips tight, he moves you over the rough fabric of his trousers, before casting you a disinterested look.

“There, perhaps now you’ll be satiated by my mere frame while I continue my important work.” He says, but you don’t miss the cocky smirk that paints his face for a second as he speaks, before he quickly hides it.

Instead you let out a soft whine of protest, but the friction is too delicious to stop. So as he wheels the chair closer to the desk, his arm reaching to grab his nearly blunt pencil, you grip his shoulders and rolls your hips. A gasped moan escapes you, the whole situation coupled with how needy you’ve been for god knows how long means your cunt is alive with sensations that it greedily feasts on.

The only sounds from the room are your choked whimpers, the slow hum of the monitors and the scratching of his pencil on his notepad. You’re certain that there’s now a wet patch on the fabric beneath you with how much your pussy is leaking, begging to be filled or played with properly. Clit throbbing, you attempt to grind harder but it gives you little relief, so you press your forehead against his shoulder. You try to control your breathing, enough to formulate some plea, but deep down you know it won’t work. You’ll get your pleasure when Edward deems it time.

You aren’t sure how long you keep grinding, but your desperate moans increase in both frequency and pitch. He clicks his tongue at a particularly salacious noise that leaves your parted lips, and only then does he finally look at you; pupils blown so wide they’re like pools of ink, searching his body and face for anything that might free you from this pleasure-deprived prison he’s placed you in.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks condescendingly, and when you shake your head, a deep chuckle escapes him. “Greedy girl, you’re truly never content, are you?”

He grabs your waist roughly, stopping your movements before pushing his hand beneath your skirt and feeling the wet mess. “Soaked, as I predicted. I bet you’ve made a mess of my nice trousers haven’t you? Well, we can’t be having that. On your knees.”

You rush to follow his command, cheeks burning as he tuts at the discoloured fabric on his thigh. Still you do your best to look tempting as you gaze up at him, blinking slowly. He seemingly appreciates it, running a hand along your jaw. “You’ve distracted me from my plans by behaving like such a harlot, so it’s only fitting I treat you like one.”

As he speaks, he unbuttons and frees himself from his trousers, length springing free and your mouth practically waters in anticipation. But before you can taste it, he stops you. “No no…you have to make this worth my time, girl. Now ask me nicely.”

You swallow, attempting to formulate the words in your head before you start to beg. “Please Edward, please let me please you. I want to…I need to please you.”

He smirks. “Good attempt, but calling me my name is most certainly not what I want right now.”

Knowing his egotistical nature very well, you relent, the brattiness making way for a carnal need for him. “Please let me please you Mister Nigma, Sir.”

He gives you a soft pat on the cheek that you can only infer means you’ve done a good job before he allows you to part your lips and take the head in your mouth. Sighing in relief, you suck slowly before pushing forward to take in more, bobbing your head as you savour finally having his attention. He lets out a small groan of satisfaction that makes your clit pulse, so you keep going, dragging your tongue along the underside.

“Good…perhaps I’ve been using you wrong this whole time. Instead of seeing you as a distraction, maybe I should just chain you to the desk to keep as my own personal stress reliever. Ready to open her whore mouth and take me whenever I see fit. I’m sure my productivity would increase.” He brags, although the hand that currently isn’t stroking your hair is gripping the arm of the chair so hard you’re sure the knuckles under his glove are white.

You moan around him in response, the sounds of you sucking filling the room in an indecent cacophony. As you do, your body feels like it’s on fire, like any sensation would tip you over the edge. But you’re determined to make him come undone, blinking up at him as you take him deeper. The hand that was on the top of your head runs down to your jawline, before a wicked idea forms.

“Well, I suppose if you insist on wearing your hair like that, might as well make it useful.” He sneers down at you, before gripping both ends of your pigtails. You realise what’s going to happen, and you do your best to relax your throat as he pulls you down on his cock, using the hair like handlebars to move you as he sees fit.

He isn’t being as rough as he could be, clearly holding back from really ruining your poor throat. But he still pushes you down until your eyes water, feeling his cock reach almost the back of your throat before giving you the respite of pulling you back up to the tip. Edward lets out a small sigh, eyes closing for a moment before snapping back open. He’d never been able to deprive himself of the beauty of your face as he ruins it.

“Fuck…look at you sweetheart. Such a mess.” He says like he’s chastising you.

You can’t hope to respond, a small whine escaping you until his cock fills your mouth once more. Sure, he’s not overly big, but he prides himself on being big enough to completely fill whatever hole he deems suitable. Over and over again he uses you, until you blink away soft tears and suck in a particularly good way; a hiss escapes him and he pulls you off roughly, letting go of your pigtails.

“I suppose you’ve been good enough to warrant a reward, I’ll allow you the honour of sitting on my cock.” He says, trying to mask the real reason; that he was seconds away from blowing his load deep down your throat.

But you’re delighted you finally have the chance to feel him properly, in the way you’ve touched yourself every night you’ve been here thinking about. So you climb back into his lap, positioning yourself above him before he crudely uses his cockhead to rub your clit in circular moments. Moaning simply makes him chuckle darkly, cooing at you to “stop behaving like a needy whore and enjoy what I give you.”

Luckily he lets you finally sink down on him, feeling every inch stretch you open until you’ve taken him all the way. You both moan out, but you watch as he tilts his head back and enjoys the sensation of your warm cunt squeezing around him. He’s gorgeous like this, so unlike the demeaning supervillain he presents himself to Gotham as. You have no doubt you’ll see glimpses of that in a moment, but for now you enjoy how blissful his features are.

You experimentally roll your hips, making you both groan out, before you attempt to find a rhythm. He keeps a tight grip on your hips, clearly not wanting you to go too fast too quick, seeking to enjoy you for as long as he can. But you want to just ride him hard and fast, to chase your release until you’re making a mess all over his lap.

“Always so tight for me.” He grits out, and you bathe in the praise as you keep moving up and down. Your fingers dig in to the shoulder of his jacket, before he huffs and shrugs it off, leaving him in his off-white shirt and question mark tie. As you keep riding him, your hands trail down to his tie, idly playing with the material between your digits.

His grin grows as he looks at you. “So eager to strip me, or does the pretty girl have a lewder idea of what to do with my tie?” he says condescendingly.

When you just moan in response, he doubles down. “I could bind those pesky wrists behind your back, make sure you aren’t touching what isn’t yours. Or perhaps I’ll blindfold you, so you never know what your master is going to inflict upon you.”

His words cause you to clench harder around him, and he starts to play with your clit lazily as you move. With how pent up you are, your pace increases a little as his actions and words have you practically tasting your orgasm already. His hips twitch upwards a little, clearly fighting the urge to just take you all for himself in a mad rush. But how can he when you’re so close to coming undone for him, all by yourself?

“Oh look at that, is the big girl going to cum all by herself?” he smirks, his tone making you flush with embarrassment and arousal. But he’s right, with your body moving up and down coupled with his dexterous fingers toying with your clit, you were on the edge of orgasm.

As you nod quickly, he smirks and nods in return. “Make a mess all over me dear, just know I’m not going to stop until I achieve satisfaction.”

His words had trailed off in your mind half way through as you were too busy cumming on his cock, shaking and writhing in his lap. You slump forward, and he allows you the mercy of resting for a few moments before he bucks up into you, causing you to whine softly against his ear.

But he stops, his eyes darting to one of the top monitors, and a wicked expression crosses his face. “Be a doll and turn around for me, okay?”

You nod blindly at his instruction, turning so your back was to his chest before sinking back down on his throbbing cock. In your haze to do what he’d asked, you hadn’t followed his gaze to see what he’s looking at, not until he grasps your hips and begins to move you again do you glance upwards.

On one of the monitors, is one of his informants, dressed in what you think is Two-Face’s gang’s uniform, waving at the camera to get your lovers attention. Your breath catches at the sight, but Edward only chuckles behind you, not allowing you to slow down.

“Looks like we have an audience. Tell me, what’s to stop me from broadcasting a projection of what’s happening here outside on that wall behind him? Then he’d be able to see what a little whore like you does for my attention, for the riddler’s attention.”

His voice is deep and commanding, clearly the situation has stroked his ego in that all too familiar way, his grip almost bruising on your hips as he continues. “I think it’ll be good for the denizens of this wretched place to see who is really in charge, to remind them that my intellect has afforded me not just my reputation, but anything I desire. Including my cute little pet who offers herself up so willingly to me.”

His words are punctuated with guttural moans, his need now overwhelming. But he’d never pass up an opportunity like this, so he leans forward, one hand still holding you firmly in his lap and on his cock, before flicking a switch.

“Speak.”

“M-Mister Nigma, sir. I planted all them trophies ya wanted down in the courthouse, although I couldn’t do one of them, since I-I was nearly caught and-“

A particularly rough thrust upwards has you biting your lip after a small noise involuntarily escaped you, but you keep quiet as you try and control the rhythm of your movements. You’re glad you aren’t being projected for the man to see, but there is still the risk he’ll hear you. After all, you aren't sure how much the microphone can pick up, so he might be able to hear the soft squelch of your cunt as you move it up and down. Edward doesn’t seem bothered by the noise you made, simply rubbing your hips as he glares at the monitor.

“And you think this excuse will be useful to you? What the hell do I pay you for? I know a simple verbal instruction is hard for a cerebrally challenged monkey to follow, but do try and keep up.” He lambasts the poor guy out front, doing a remarkably good job of keeping his voice steady and even. But you can tell he’s getting off on the power of the situation; of having his lover servicing him sexually while he chastises one of the people who works for him.

“S-Sorry Mister Nigma, sir. I’ll get on it right away.”

Cruelly, Edward decides that now is the perfect time to move his hand up to tweak your nipple harshly, causing a whine to fall past your lips. You’re sure the man heard it, his features furrowing a little in confusion on the monitor before Edward flips the switch off.

With a grunt he lifts you off him before bending you over the desk and entering you in one harsh thrust yet again, the breath being knocked out of you. He sets a rough pace, clearly chasing his own release. All you can do is cling on for dear life as he uses you like a toy. The crude noises of your pussy being filled over and over again only serve to have you clenching around him in pleasure, your eyes forced to face the monitors. Forced to see just how much control Edward has over Arkham City, how much he knows about everything going on here as your eyes watch the inmates, and crucially how none of them know that he’s fucking you like a man possessed while you observe them.

“Fuck, it’s a shame I can’t fill you up while we’re in here. Guess I’ll just have to make you a filthy mess instead.” He grunts out, and you barely have time to process before he pulls out and quickly strokes himself to completion all over your ass. Both of your breaths can be heard heaving as you take a few moments to come down, the sensations still a gentle simmer across your skin. You hear him tuck himself away, fixing his clothes before you gently try and move.

“Stay.” He demands quietly, and you’re unsure why until you feel him gently cleaning his cum away from your skin with a spare rag. Once he’s done, he smooths your skirt back down as he helps you back into a standing position. Without uttering another word, he leads you back to the makeshift bedroom, settling you on the mattress to rest. You smile softly at the feeling of him taking care of you, in his own way. He sits on the edge, fidgeting with his hands a little. Getting comfy on the mattress, you go to reach out for him before stopping yourself, sensing something is…off with him.

“I…do in fact have something else for you. I was planning on giving it to you later, but you forced my hand.” He says suddenly, causing you to tilt your head in intrigue. Getting up, he rifles through a drawer you hadn’t thought to look in until he removes a small black box, with a slightly charred ribbon tied around it.

“I can imagine spending your birthday in a prison city wasn’t your ideal scenario.” He states, handing you the box as you look at him, shocked. You hadn’t even mentioned it was your birthday, not really thinking it was the right time in your current situation.

“You remembered?”

He lets out a scoff. “Of course I remembered, I’m no simpleton. I’m more than capable of remembering a date, especially when this dim-witted society places so much emphasis on someone’s date of birth.”

As you glance at the box in your hand, he continues with an awkward cough. “I confess I did have something a little better in mind. But it’s hard to procure items in here that aren’t of the firearm or explosive variety, and I didn’t factor into my plans our joint incarceration.”

With a soft smile, you move yourself into a seated position and tug on the ribbon before opening the box, seeing a simple bracelet in his signature shade of green. “Edward…it’s lovely.”

“Yes, I’m aware.” He says quickly, for once his eyes were trained to the ground instead of your face, “Again, not the gift I was planning for you but…well it’s the best I could do here.”

You’re truly touched, heat rushing to your cheeks as you smile lovingly up at him. “Edward it’s perfect, thank you.”

Shuffling, you wrap your arms around him into a tight hug, burying your face in his neck. You don’t care that you’re both covered in dry sweat, or that you both reek of sex, all you want is to be close to him. He pretends to huff at your display of affection, but he wraps his arms around you regardless, holding you flush against him.

“Happy birthday, my dear.”

[kykyonthemoon]

Oasis Tale

After the events in Sea of Golden Sands, Rafayel rewrites his story on a secluded oasis.

ಇ. Rafayel x MC (Female Reader) - written in his pov.

ಇ. Tags: oneshot, fluff with light angst, secret wedding, inspired by Arabian/Middle East wedding cultures, Rafayel's pov, mentioned of his myths (Sea of Golden Sand), Talia.

ಇ. Word count: ~1k2

ಇ. Requested by Na Sa

ಇ. Masterlist ♡ Request a fic

The entrance of the great tent opened, allowing a gentle breeze from the lake in the distance within. I sat on the edge of the bed strewn with red flower petals, gazing at Talia, who had just arrived.

“What is it that you want to tell me?” I inquired after considering that Talia's eyes seemed to convey countless unspoken thoughts. 

“What else can I say? You have already made your decision.” 

Talia responded with a sigh. I beckoned her over and said, “Then come and give me your blessing.”

Talia was my sole remaining family in the world. If it were not for her, I certainly would not be here, at this moment. I bowed my head, receiving Talia's blessing as the representative of my ancestors. She departed soon after, with a reminder:

"One night. You two only have one night.”

I nodded slightly. One night was enough.

Once Talia's footprints were covered by the wind and sand, I stepped out of the tent. The sunset covered the cool water in the middle of the oasis, a magnificent crimson as I stepped down. I waited. I waited for the moment when the bell-like sound of the jewelry adorning that one young maiden rang out. Then I turned around. 

She stood in all of the colors that I appreciated of this world. A fiery dress with gold and pearl jewelry - those had belonged to her for a long time, then given to her once more on this special day. Her bare feet glided across the verdancy of the oasis. Her face was obscured by a thin layer of cloth the same color as her dress, which fluttered in the breeze with every step she took.

She stopped at the edge of the lake, seemingly wondering about something. I reached out a hand and she took it. The water hugged her legs, rising gradually to her exposed waist. Her body was painted with traditional Lemurian insignia, precisely like mine. They were an indication that she was my bride.

I had been waiting for this moment for a long time. Since the ocean had not yet dried.

My trembling hands, with all clumsiness, grasped her veil and removed it. Her rosy cheeks emerged. These eyes penetrated my soul. Akin to when we had first exchanged our vows.

She did not recall. How wrenching it was! Only I, doomed to live without a heart, must remember all. She once kissed me; she once pierced through my heart. I wanted her to remember, yet hoped she would forever not. Love was a misfortune to any Lemurian foolish enough. And I was such Lemurian, the one who gave his heart to her.

Countless lives had passed, I had lived without a true heart. I had waited until the day I saw her again. I had waited until the day she called my name once more. 

“Rafayel.”

From the moment her lips uttered my name, I deliberately bound myself to her for eternity.

I smiled at her, addressing her in Lemurian. “My bride.”

The wheel of fate spun again, and the threads of our destiny were intertwined once more. I saw her again. She found me. I could not stop the torrent in my heart when I stood in front of her; was it hatred or was it love? I only knew one thing, that my heart was throbbing in her chest. She was my heart, my life.

Yet, I was no longer the God of the Sea, and she was no longer a Princess. Even when she reincarnated, even when I erased her memories of us in this life, she still found me.

Then, we were in the midst of an oasis, bathing in pristine water and reciting our vows. This sacred ceremony involved only the two of us. Sparkling drops fell through her fingers, down on my hair. Then it was my turn to catch the water and soak her hair. She trembled slightly. 

“Rafayel,” every time she called my name, my hollow chest seemed to retrieve its rhythm. “Why are you crying?”

Only then did I realize the pearls were falling from the corners of my eyes. Her delicate hands reached out to catch them. She let them float in the water and then caressed my cheek.

"Have I forgotten something, about you, about us?"

I grabbed her wrist, buried my face in her palm, and pulled her a little closer. Her body carried a distinct flowery aroma that I always recalled.

"Nothing. You did not forget anything significant." I responded. I did not wish her to remember the tragedies of the life we ​​had gone through. Yet, in the end, those memories were gradually finding their way back to her.

She spoke again:

“Perhaps I have not recalled all the things we went through together yet. But what I know is that you are in front of me at this moment.”

I gazed at her for a while. Her scent, her breath, her every touch were so real. She was real. Her hand on my face shifted gently. She grasped my hand and placed it on her chest.

“If I ever forget you again, even just seeing you, I shall give my heart to you once more. I know I will always do the same thing.”

Her heart was beating consistently, full of vitality and unending fire. It once belonged to me, now it was hers, forever. I knew the Lemurians out there were awaiting me to seize that heart out of her body. I knew I must sacrifice the person I loved the most in exchange for the restoration of a golden Lemuria. Yet I knew that I would not accept such a fate. Being here with her was proof that we were already writing a different story, forging a different path.

I was not certain how long she and I could go on this path. But I must try. I lifted her hand and placed a kiss on it. I whispered to her:

"Do not say that. Do not claim you will surrender your heart to me anymore. I merely wish it to stay with you.”

The sound of her laughter reverberated in my ears. She responded:

“You once said, Lemurians must rewrite their own stories, with their own hands. I believe in you.” 

She lifted my hands and clasped them together. 

“This time, let me rewrite it with you.”

Her hands entwined with mine. She moved forward and sealed her eyes. Her lips parted. The sun had completely set and the lanterns floating on the lake lit up by my power. The two of us were basking in a pond of stars. 

The tip of my nose met hers. In my mind, a storm was brewing; the burden of lost Lemuria on my shoulders, the happiness of a lifetime that she was willing to offer me. Yet I feared no longer. For as my lips found her kiss, I knew our tale had been rewritten, beginning with that night.

-The end-

[c0smiclatt3]

DAN HENG: JUST DOING MY JOB!

a university au - oneshot

☾₊ ⊹ TAGS: university au, first kiss, sfw but tension. is uh happening

AN: for context if you've never seen library stacks they look like this and you have to turn the wheel to open up a path between library shelves, so you have to watch out to make sure nobodys in the rows before using them can you tell i am a uni student

It’d been a few weeks into the semester since you first met him at the library, since those steely gray eyes that peered over at you from the front desk seemed to puncture right through your defences. It’s funny how one day of forgetting your laptop charger could turn into a new daily routine of dropping by the library, requesting to rent one just so you could be struck again. Charger rentals quickly turned to him asking you about the books you’re reading to chats about classes. Then one day he started leaving you cups of tea on your desk for your late night sessions - and always when you have your head down for a power nap so you can’t ever thank him. But the teabag in your cups are always the same brand as the ones you see dangling from his thermos, though he will always deny it.

Today you actually did need his help, though. You were looking for a specific book that was not in the regular library shelves, and needed someone to guide you through the labyrinth that was the archives. Luckily for you, Dan Heng seemed to know them like the back of his hand.

“Sorry to take you away from your job like this.”

“I work at the library help desk. You are asking for my help,” he says matter-of-factly, the way he always spoke. “This is quite literally my job.”

The archive stacks lay out before the two of you, with stacks on stacks of shelves stretched out for what must be all the way from East to West campus. With the archives located in the library’s underground level, it was entirely plausible. It was crazy how in a room that loomed this large, they still had to stack the shelves together to accommodate all of them. Each shelf had a great big wheel on its side, which you knew you had to turn to roll the adjacent shelves aside, allowing you passage to the shelf of your choice. With the smell of finely aging books curling yellow with the years wafting through the room and these great big contraptions of shelves, being down here almost felt otherworldly. You looked to Dan Heng, who walked with purpose and direction - how long must someone spend down here to sift through the shelf labels as algorithmically as he did?

“May I?” Snapping out of your awe, you found him holding his hand out to you, expectantly. Wait - what?

“Huh?”

“Your phone. I forgot the call number.”

Oh. You hand your phone over. This deep into the archives, with the fortress of shelf stacks in front and behind you, the ceiling lights could only reach so far. So when he opened your phone, the light of the screen gently illuminated his face.

“Interesting phone background.” Crap. You'd forgotten what you set your lockscreen to and felt blood rush to your cheeks.

You frown through your embarrassment. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

“Friendly banter is an effective way to make a friendly atmosphere between library staff and visitors." Once again, as matter-of-factly as ever.

“I didn’t take you for the bantering type.”

Just before you swear you could detect an almost imperceptible smile on his lips. But just as quickly as it came, the light of your phone was snuffed out.

“Here it is,” he set both hands firmly on the wheel, turning and rolling what must have been eight stacks of shelves aside. You didn't expect a nerd like him to do so without breaking a sweat. The shelves gave way with a creak and the crackle of plastic-wrapped books. A space opened up between your two target shelves, just wide enough for one of you at a time to pass through.

“Looks cozy,” you remark, taking a step inside. But you knew this was the farthest right he could push the shelves, and you didn’t want to trouble him to push aside any more. “Let’s go find that book.”

You two work silently, scanning the bookshelves row by row: you on one side and him on the other, meeting in the middle. You would be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little flustered when you two bumped shoulders as you finished the first row, him just silently turning to you, shaking his head. The words registered with just the look on his face. It’s not on this one. And then you two proceeded to the next row.

You went on like this for a little bit, occasionally accidentally brushing hands as you two closely watched the book spines, only for you to hurriedly draw your hand away. But row by row, shelf by shelf, he started to move his hand to yours first, your hands lingering, skin to skin, for just a moment as you both pretended to be carefully observing the last book. Never daring to look the other in the eye lest either one betrays the look on their face. First a brush of the knuckles, them the backs of your fingers, then his hand moves over to just gently slot his fingers over-

The shelves began to close together with a heavy groan. You two must have been so quiet, someone else must not have realized you two were there, and began to close up the stacks, and they were closing in quickly.

Dan Heng's head whipped around, immediately putting himself between you and the incoming shelf, bracing on the shelf behind you. “Excuse me!” He shouts to the stranger, and the shelves ceased.

The stranger called back. “Sorry! I’ll be done in a sec!”

The momentary shock settling down, you realized the position you were in: the two of you, pressed dangerously close together, Dan Heng with one arm above you to steady himself, looking down at you. Your faces were so close as you turned your head up to look at him, you felt a lock of his hair brush your forehead.

“Are you alright?”

You open your mouth to say something, when you realize that with his body pressed to yours he could feel your heart beating wildly in your chest - and was that his thrumming in response? Must the adrenaline from saving you from the shelves be getting him this worked up? Why was your own heart still fluttering if the threat is over? And… Why did your face feel so warm?

“I’m…” You look into his eyes for the first time since you two entered the shelves - he’s handsome. Devastatingly handsome. The faint ceiling lights cut through the shelves, offering a window of light for you to look at him, him to look at you.

You feel his breath on your ear as he speaks in a low whisper. “Sorry… Is this too close?”

You shake your head. “No, it’s… It’s fine…”

Your eyes wandered - could he see where they were looking? Down his face to his lips, and you tried to focus on something - anything - to distract you but all that was before you was him, his eyes gray like winter above you, his heart thumping through his jacket and against your chest, and his lips, god, his lips.

You two stand in silence as you try to peel your eyes away from him. But then he gently puts his free hand under your chin, tipping it back up to look at him. You can’t hide it now - you cheeks flushed pink, the way you’re looking at him. Your foreheads are touching now, his eyes searching yours as his gentle breath fans across your face, a few locks of hair on your cheek stirring. You quietly whisper.

“Is this also part of your job description?”

There's an amused hmph from his lips. A flutter of his eyelashes. Yours closing in response. Your hearts, drumming up courage in you both as he lowers his face and you bring yours up to meet his.

And then the gentlest, gentlest of kisses. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, and his hand under your chin drops to your waist in response, drawing you near. His kisses are long and drawn out, then punctuated: short, sweet like haiku syllables, playing out on your lips, writing you to life.

writing masterlist | bots masterlist

☾₊ ⊹ AN: and that's the last of my works from my sideblog migrated here wooo

[thesharktanksdriver]

Being a Magical Girl in Gotham (Platonic)

Part 1 Part 3 part 4

A continuation from the last part. I think I’m gonna later add stuff about y/n meeting other hero’s and villains plus some oneshots instead of just headcanon stories

Once again sorry/not sorry if characters are out of character . Also this is continuing y/n’a journey of continually getting more villains and hero’s to adopt them lol.

Y/n is literally becoming these Criminally insane villains’s emotional support child lol. And y’all can’t stop me from making that happen

Months within your friendship with Damien your a regular visit to the Wayne manor

And Damien is more than pleased with this since he now gets to brag to his older half-brothers

You can only giggle as the youngest Wayne drags you away before any of the others are able to talk to you

Damien at the manor enjoys spending time out in the garden with you

Having small picnics as Titus lounges beside the two of your in the grass near the expertly planted gardenias in full bloom

Turns out he likes helping Alfred with the garden quite a bit

Turns out he likes helping Alfred with the garden quite a bit

Turns out he likes helping Alfred with the garden quite a bit

Turns out he likes helping Alfred with the garden quite a bit

Turns out he likes helping Alfred with the garden quite a bit

Turns out he likes helping Alfred with the garden quite a bit

They even planted a small raspberry bush that only the two (now three) of them knew about

It’s rare to feel as if sunlight was a thing in Gotham but out here it’s almost rare that there wasn’t a beam of golden light hitting your face

If you make a flower crown for Damien he’ll wear it with a bit of bitching but the minute his brothers make a comment about it he’s pulling out his sword

Speaking of which, he shows you his sword collection!

An honour only you get to see without the threat of being stabbed as an extra bonus

He has a wide array of them, all from different areas of the world and different time periods

It’s actually really impressive

(Definitely asks if you want one and plans to get you one as a gift)

His room is bigger than your apartment and half the shit there would cover 4 months of rent

You don’t mention this though

He has a lot of imported furniture from what looks to be the Middle East and Asian descent

If you ask about it he’ll actually be really happy to explain their origin and history

He’s very passionate about history and seems to have a ton of knowledge on all arrays of most countries

Definitely gets worried when you mention have cup noodles for dinner 4 times in a row and demands you stay for dinner

You do and it ends up being really fun

At school after that he makes sure Alfred packs an extra lunch for you to have

Mr Wayne himself is actually really nice and much different from the Himbo he’s often portrayed as by the press

He’s extremely friendly to you, always offering a smile and small hello when Damien drags you off to wherever

He doesn’t seem to mind you being in his home infact he seems to encourage it

When Damien had chased his brother Dick around for trying to spy on you and him Bruce sat down and talked with you

He actually thanked you for making his son happy

Also asks if maybe he could speak to your parents sometime

You just say that their usually really busy abroad but you’d that get a letter from them since you don’t have a phone

You can tell by that alone he’s worried, like real worried at the thought of you basically living alone in a city like Gotham

A week later you forge a note from penguin lol. That man has good handwriting but definitely lost a few years on his life when you said it was for faking a note from your nonexistent parents

Bruce might be considering to adopt you and his sons are fully encouraging this

At some point in going to the manor you began sometimes helping Alfred with some small chores by delivering Bruce’s tea

He finds it to be a pleasant surprise and give him more opportunities to speak to you

Bruce finds you to be a impressive young lady. One who’s wise beyond their years and someone who has a unknown but similar weight on their shoulders

It worries him since he sees himself in your eyes

He begins connecting some dots about the rumours he’s heard about some young girl vigilante?, he’s not sure what exactly to label them as

But isn’t 100% sure it’s you since they apparently look 17 and your clearly 15

He puts a pin in it though

Anyways you can bet that he’s now inviting you to his gala’s so Damien more at ease plus give you a nice night to relax

He pays for clothes and even gifts them to you afterwards

The minute he finds out your an orphan you best bet he’s pulling out the papers-

Dick is super excited to meet you! Minus the fact that Damien is basically hissing at him and dragging you away

When he does get to speak to you he kinda reminds you of Nightwing with how pleasantly chatty he is

He asks about how your school is, if your enjoying your stay and what you think of lil Dami etc

Probably suggests to Damien about having you over for a sleepover and that he’ll take over his patrol for that night

Damien his heavily considering it

Probably calls you stuff like “kiddo!” And some alternation of your name

Has Alfred bring you and Damien snacks when y’all are hanging out

Listen he’s just really invested in the fact that Damien has a seemingly normal friend whom he cares for

It means he’s learning and adjusting to a relatively normal life outside of being Robin which was something he always worried about

Like Bruce he kinda gets worried about how your parents are apparently abroad and left you, a 15 year old child alone in Gotham of all places

Gets even more worried when you refuse to get a ride home

Sometimes spies but always gets caught and chased off by Damien who’s slightly annoyed

He means well

When you join for dinner he likes to tell a lot of stories and listen to your own

Basically already considers you a part of the family and is waiting for Bruce to slap out those papers

Might try to pry about who’s your favourite superhero just to see everyone at the table silently hope

His hope is crushed when you say it’s Wonder Woman

Then Everyone’s hood is crushed when you say your favourite male superhero is supermen

Clark probably hears their crushed souls from metropolis lol

Tim is just plain confused and wonders if your being paid or need help

He might love Damien as his little brother but he also has the scars to prove that little shit ain’t always a law abiding citizen

When he does realize though that Damien didn’t threaten you nor is paying you (why did he even jump to that conclusion?) he finds himself curious

Bruce forbids him from looking through your entire internet history and trying to find every possible trace of your existence

You notice early on how he’s addicted to coffee (just like Nightwing mentioned about red Robin)

Like with Bruce you help Alfred and deliver him some from time to time

This along with the limo rides with him and Damien give you the chance to actually talk to him

He’s really passionate about his goals, talking about his passions and plans in life

He seems to be hard working like you are, but to a worrying degree where he pushes himself to the limit (like you do)

It’s somewhat worrying to you as you find him lunched over his laptop with 6 empty mugs of coffee and bags under his eyes

You can’t say much since that would be hypocritical

But that doesn’t mean you can’t distract him for a bit as to give home a break he desperately needs!

You use Rigel to get his eyes away from his computer screen. The small white ferret making him pause as he scoops them up

Also riddles galore, some of which you might’ve borrowed from Riddler (he’d be so proud)

He’s pretty determined in getting to know you after a while, figuring out what you like and don’t, or what type of food you preferred

It might kinda seem a bit creepy at first but you realize that this is his way of trying to show his care. Odd but kinda amusing once you realize he told Alfred and now you have an entire menu catered to your taste

At some point he might’ve peaked at your records and is confused when he can’t find anything

He hasn’t told Bruce but he’s getting more worried when he digs deeper to see you seemingly live alone in a shit part of Gotham

Realllly wants to tell Bruce but also doesn’t cause that’ll mean he disobeyed him and might get another “friendly” visit from Damien’s batarangs

Whoops…oh the pain of being too smart

Jason shows up one day while your hanging out with Damien out of fucking nowhere

Like your just laying in the grass, petting Titus and then bam there’s a shadow looming over you

He seems kinda pleasantly surprised that “demonspawn” has a friend

Teases the shit out of Damien in front of you in a very big brother kinda way

Whenever he stops by he brings McDonald’s like a cool bring bother or uncle

Damien complains it’s bad for your health but stops when you mention that McDonald’s is something you can barely afford so you appreciate the free food

He may be a little shit but he’s not gonna be an asshole about that…at least not anymore compared to when he first arrived

He occasionally picks you and Damien up from school or drops by at lunch to deliver some special food from Alfred

One day when Damien was sick and it was raining hard when you didn’t have a proper jacket her gave you his leather one

He let you keep it, saying that he had plenty of other one’s and that you suit it better

Mentions literature a lot, even seems to have a small version of pride and prejudice tucked in his pocket

Jason likes to joke that his white streak in his hair is from learning about Damien having a BFF now

Damien in return calls him geezer and encourages you to do the same

He’s the person who immediately notices when you have any bruises other than Damien

Reallly tries to convince you to let them drive you home when you once mentioned the area you live in

He’s gonna get more white hair if you mention the fact that your apartment doesn’t have a proper lock on it and you have to prop a chair against the door

If Damien doesn’t gift you that sword soon he’s gonna give you a pocket knife

He fucking adores Rigel, loves it when the interdimensional god ferret lays in his hair

Takes photos and jokes that their now his white streak

You caught him using a baby voice with Rigel and his brothers won’t let him live (hah) it down

Alfred is half convinced that your some type of universal sign by some god lol

Best grandpa

He secretly bakes you and Damien cookies just for you two and even leaves some that have chocolate chip smiley faces

As stated before by Damien’s request he begins making you a lunch as well for Damien to deliver since he wants you to have a good meal

God knows how much he has wanted another calm person in this household

Sometimes in your lunches you find little bundles of fresh lavender and notes saying “have a splendid day” and “do your best”

He really appreciates you helping him out even though he didn’t ask. He mostly lets it happen so you have the chance to spend time with other members of the family

He makes little treats for Rigel

Due to Tim he has your taste narrowed down and always makes sure to have your favourites when you visit

May or may not have thought of room decor if Bruce adopted you

He senses your an orphan. He just knows but wants the others to figure it out rather than saying it

If you’ll indulge him he loves talking about old films and classic literature like Dracula

He was actually the one who introduced Jason to it and would love to turn their two person book club into 3

Finds Rigel very cute and lets the small animal curl around his neck

He finds it really nice if you want to join him in cooking and would most definitely teach you new recipes

Except his cookie recipe cause that one is a pennyworth family secret

You once tried to lie about not being sick and he gave you a knowing look before giving you a care package of his chicken noodle soup and some medicine

Your half convinced he’s not human but not in a bad way, more of a “is he a god?” Or “is he like Rigel” sorta way

You get legal advice from Harvey about the entire ordeal. The past DA offering to do more than just legal advice if you’d like

You say that you want to handle this on your own so he and two-face relent

But not before saying that the offer stills stands

Both Harvey and Two-face enjoy your presence for various different reasons but the important one is that you treat them as their own separate people

With Harvey you talk to him about what it was like going to collage and being the DA

He often talks about his friendship with Bruce and their crazy times when they were younger

He often wonders how he’s doing

You want to tell him but know that doing so could reveal who you possibly are

Probably tells you if the time Bruce “accidentally” poured wine on an asshole professor in a white suit after harassing a few female students

Probably tells you legal loopholes that your not supposed to know but you appreciate it anyways

Two-face on the other hand is kinda more difficult to talk to but once you get past his walls he talks and talks

Most definitely tells you how to pick locks and evade taxes, I’m sorry but that’s what he’s gonna teach you

At some point he probably offers to “talk” to your landlord about why he illegally raised your rent

Tells you about how corrupt the world actually is

Teaches you to flip a coin

He and Harvey get a lot of bouts of pain due to the burns so there are times they’ll go quiet out of trying to deal with it

With maybe a little magic from Rigel you make a special burn cream that helps alleviate that pain

Listen…you get he’s a bad person and all but you don’t like seeing people in pain

It’s been that way ever since you were young and having to watch kids your age suffer

Maybe it was always in your nature to help others no matter how much it weighed on you

It’s probably the reason why Rigel had chosen you in the first place

Yeah, that makes sense

Mr freeze is kinda a sad grandpa that you find yourself visiting to check up on

You had fought his shadowmite when the anger from his wife’s condition rose up again

After that your welcomed to his small lab for as long as you can due to the cold

He often laments about Nora. How she would’ve loved to meet you

You always say that she will one day which gets a small melancholic smile

You can only spend up to maybe 30-45 minutes with him before your begin to freeze despite you changing your magical uniform to better suit the temperature

If you request it he’ll show you how to ice skate and finds it really amusing if you succeed and then slip into a pile of snow

Speaking of snow, you like to leave little snow men hidden around for him to find

He sometimes talks to Nora’s body about you when alone. He mentions how he’s been feeling a bit better as of late due to you popping by

You don’t know this but he and Nora always wanted a child. So having you around kinda helps fill a hole in his heart that he long thought was frozen over with grief

I like to think that in his spare time he’s taken up knitting and made you a pair of matching mittens, scarf and hat

Their a teal blue with little snowflakes designs on them with maybe a little hidden snowman

He sometimes sneaks in ice or snow puns to watch you process it for a minute and then laugh

It makes his day

Probably tells you that if you need a good murder weapon he can make you a good icicle that’ll melt away therefore removing evidence

It’s hard to think he’s a super villain until he brings up shit like that

If you literally give him anything as a gift he’ll end up cherishing it

You actually end up meeting Waylon by accident in the sewers since you use them as a kinda secret passageway across Gotham

Your surprised at meeting the literal giant man who looks like a crocodile but you don’t end up panicking much

Same shit different day in Gotham

He lets you pass and even guide you to where you needed to go

After that it kinda becomes a system of meeting him and talking as he guides you through the Sewers (even if you knew them by heart at this point)

You like giving him leftovers that you have even if you also need them

The two of you now have a small tradition of sitting and enjoying a cup of ramen once in awhile

He teaches you a few French phrases and tells you of New Orleans

Talking of the mixed French and American culture of the city

At some point he probably tells you to visit for him if you get the chance. You promise to do so and being back a souvenir for him

Of all villains you feel the most sympathy for him. Someone who was born with something that they couldn’t control and being ostracized by society for it

Eventually becoming what they feared in the first place to survive

At some point you trust him enough to tell him about how you live alone. Barely getting enough to scrape by and living in a shitty apartment after running away from an orphanage

He lets you sit on his shoulder despite the fact you can basically fly a few feet off the ground

Also likes to mess up your hair with his giant clawed hands

He always makes sure to be slow just in case cause he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt you. You tell him he doesn’t and that you felt with worse but that in turn makes him even more gentle in being near you

During the winter you buy him a heater incase his condition also leads him to being cold blooded (which he is)

He definitely appreciates it since winters are really rough for him

Definitely finds the contrast of cute, small innocent magical girl and then giant, hulking, scaled lizard man being friends to be hilarious

During this time you begin to notice the Shadowmites kinda begin to thin out

It makes you a bit more relaxed and off guard (big mistake)

What had initially started out as a small gathering of them soon evolved into them all attacking at once

Biting and clawing as you did your best to stop them

By the end of it your left barely conscious, their hosts left laying on the ground passed out from having their energy drained

You could only hope they’d be ok as you find yourself stumbling towards the only place you could think of

Library

You move purely out of instinct, your body moving on its own as your weakened abilities help you move from rooftop to rooftop

Today was luckily one of the days you’d meet up with Hood, at least meaning if you passed out there you’d be relatively safe since your apartment was too far away

When you get there you almost sob out of relief when seeing his red helmet that matched the colour leaking from your form

Dark blotches of red contrasting against the lighter colours of your uniform

[lizzy06]

Aone Takanobu x Reader Fic Recs!!(Tumblr/AO3/Wattpad)

Haikyuu! Fic Rec Masterlist

Date-Tech Fic Rec Masterlist

Nosebleed ✨✨✨💖by WritingTheInserts(oneshot, fluff, humor) All the important moments of your life started with a nosebleed. [COMPLETED]

The Lightest Touch✨✨ by @seokiloquy (oneshot, soulmate au, fluff) you have a birthmark/tattoo of the place where your soulmate first touches you and it slowly fades over 24 hours until it’s gone.[COMPLETED]

Perfect ✨by @volleyboys-n-girls (oneshot, soulmate au, fluff) The words first spoken by your soulmate are tattooed on your skin. For you, you were lucky right there. [COMPLETED]

soulmate au ✨by @pies-writes-and-more (oneshot, soulmate au, fluff) The words first spoken by your soulmate are tattooed on your skin. [COMPLETED]

gentle by @teamatsumu (oneshot, fluff)he’s not the same with you as he is with everyone else.[COMPLETED]

High Priestess✨ by theunluckycanuck (orphan_account) (oneshot, arranged marriage, smut) You were the priestess of the east and he was a monk of the west, in order to bring good fortune you had to meet and become a union. What brought forth was more than just marriage.[COMPLETED]

The Scarf by starryiedd (oneshot, fluff)she finds the scarf in her locker, she didn't expect any of the events that followed.[COMPLETED]

A Gentle Silence✨ by Amoralyn (crushes, love letters, fluff, oneshot)How does he really feel about me? Does he want to be my friend, or more? And how long can I pretend that I’m happy with just being friends?[COMPLETED]

Eighth Wonder by abswrites (oneshot, fluff)Aone knows he looks scary. Hell, he sees his own face in the mirror every morning. But here you are, chattering away next to him without a care.[COMPLETED]

Sound of Silence by @dira333/Fogfire (oneshot)What happens if you, with your sharp tongue and sweet features, meet Aone, the grim looking sweetheart everyone seems to be afraid of?[COMPLETED]

A Good Man ✨by @dira333/Fogfire (oneshot, fluff)You'd known he'd be a good father, a good husband, a good man. You'd known all along.[COMPLETED]

The Class Rep and the Wall by Teapots_and_Teacups (oneshot, fluff)Aone takes a moment to help out an underclassman.You aren't scared by the gentle giant.[COMPLETED]

Soft, sweet, and light✨ by @write-haikyuu (oneshot, fluff) Aone Takanobu loves dessert. But he loves you more.[COMPLETED]

what he's looking for by flying_siphonophore (oneshot, smut, fluff)...he wonders if you’re wearing shorts under that…. if you’re wearing those cute underwear you bought the other day…. or if he ran his hand underneath he’d find nothing separating his hand from you.[COMPLETED]

Train Ride | Aone Takanobu/Reader ✨✨by @thisnoodlewritesao3 (oneshot, fluff)Aone had never been more thankful of the people who avoided him on the trains, especially when they gave him something as amazing as you.[COMPLETED]

Trepidation Overlooked by introher (masturbation, friend to lovers)aone masturbates to the thought of you, alone and in his room are where his fantasies run wild.[COMPLETED]

Lover's play by @dira333/ Fogfire(friends to lovers, oneshot)[COMPLETED]

[evermourning]

timeless - yang jeongin ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

pairing: yang jeongin x implied afab!reader

genre: romance, multiuniversal!au, non idol!au, tons of different scenarios

warnings: language, infidelity, making out!!, suggestive, mentions of injuries/violence/war, jeongin being too perfect, based off of timeless by taylor swift

wc: 4k

summary: no matter how many lifetimes you'll live, yang jeongin will always find his way back to you. no matter the cost.

a/n: so sorry for my lack of posts! i am busy working on a BIG project 😈 this and one more oneshot will come out within the next few weeks! also, i referenced a previous jeongin fic in here! can you find it? ;)

The estate of Duke Christopher Bahng, 1521.

You sit at the long table, the revels of nobles and partygoers have become a muffled cacophony blocked from your ears. At the end of the table, Chris offers you a sheepish smile.

I apologize, he mouths, his dimples visible on one perfect cheek, I know you don't like loud noises.

It's not that Chris is a bad guy. He has never been cruel to you. In a world where someone like you has absolutely no choice in who you'll end up marrying, being engaged to Duke Bahng is one of the luckiest things you've ever endured. Chris is compassionate and sweet, and doesn't treat you like chattel.

But yet, the more time you spend with his ring suffocating your finger, you feel guilt slither over each bone in your ribcage until it has enraptured your heart, squeezing until you are absolutely sure it will bust if you exhale. You have to let him down. You'll have to tell him, one day, that you cannot love him the way he adores you.

Because you are madly in love with his younger brother, Jeongin.

At every single event like this, he is the anchor that keeps you grounded. When Chris looks away to laugh loudly and clap his best friend, Jisung, on the back, you steal a glance at Jeongin.

He looks so mature tonight. He wears a striking navy doublet threaded with gold, the colors of the Bahng family's coat of arms. Beneath it, his white sleeves are puffy, basically hiding his large hands. And as he smiles at you, you make a mental note of how his face is as perfect as ever.

His eyes cause you to melt the moment you meet his gaze. They are a deep brown, yet they glimmer with a resolute air of warmth, almost as if they are the light at the end of the tunnel that you've been searching for all along. His hair is dark and wavy, combed neatly. You know this because you had to wrestle with him for a good ten minutes before he conceded and allowed you to comb his hair.

Nobody in here knows your dirty little secret except you. And Jeongin, of course.

Normally, if it were anywhere else, he'd make subtle glances across the table, knowing just what to do to have you blushing in an instant. But tonight, he cannot. Because tonight, he is seated at Chris's side, a reminder that at the end of the day, he will never be able to live a comfortable life with you.

In the ebony depths of Jeongin's darkest nightmares, he sees you married to Chris, intent on creating a family and a home with him. He sees in his head your words of venom towards him as you push him away for his more talented and intelligent brother. The very idea of you consummating marriage with Chris has him waking up in a cold sweat.

But once the moon rises in the east, casting a dim, silvery light onto the polished courtyard stones, you are swept into a labyrinth of gardens until Jeongin is positive the two of you will not get caught.

The moment he is certain, his lips are on yours.

Jeongin is practically clawing at you, desperate for the saccharine sweetness of your lips. His long fingers entangle themselves in your hair, as if gripping onto the delicate strands will allow him to maintain some sense of human decency. The more his lips crash against yours, bruising and biting them, the more he can feel himself deteriorating into something almost primitive.

It is completely discourteous of him, of both of you, to let this behavior run amuck. You should feel some ounce of shame for sneaking around behind your husband-to-be's back with his younger brother, of all people. And yet, you cannot. Every muscle and bone in your body aches devastatingly, yearning for the boy you cannot have.

So you will continue to be two-faced. You are the perfect partner for Chris in the daytime, listening to him talk and guide you through life. But you'll always wake in his brother's bed. You'll always pen passionate sonnets to his brother and receive equally fervent soliloquies in return.

And when the time comes, you will write a note to Chris profusely apologizing for never loving him truly the way he cared for you. You will push down your fears about risk as you allow Jeongin to hoist you over stone walls draped in ivy in the loneliness of evening, hands intertwined as you run towards a new life together.

Nobody ever said finding your soulmate was supposed to be easy.

California, USA, 1849

The winter has been long, but you pulled through. Coming here was not easy, across barren prairie and looming mountains with barely enough food to survive. But it has paid off, in many more ways than you'd imagined.

When the news spread like wildfire about the possibility of gold on the West Coast, you were a little unsure if it was true or not. You didn't want to leave behind everything you knew for something hypothetical. But your husband believed. He hoped for a better life, not wanting to be the reason you were so blue. So you took your infant son, just the three of you, and went west.

You stand now in front of a beautiful house on the coast. It is two stories, preposterous for someone of your family's class, and is painted clean and white. The shutters are painted in hues of periwinkle, kindling a fire inside your heart.

Vividly in your dreams you remember first marrying Jeongin. He was scared he couldn't provide a life for you, for the one who had such a tight grip on him since he was a small boy. He knew his family wasn't wealthy, and he didn't want you to leave him, so he jumped at the chance to try and change that.

He believes God was on his side that day, after scorching hours mining and waiting by the river looking for something even akin to gold. Soil was etched into his fingernails, and his skin was tan from all the time in the sun. But he kept going, for you, and he found a hunk of gold.

It is worth it to him, seeing the delight on your face when he reveals to you the house he built himself. You were sixteen when you met him, dreaming of a big house on the water with white siding and blue shutters, and those dreams have come true.

Every single thing inside the home he’s created for your family has been created lovingly by hand. All the furniture on the inside has been built too, just for you.

You stand outside of it beside him, tears welling at the corners of your eyes. Your son is held tightly to your chest, and Jeongin wraps one arm tightly around your waist. You lean into him, a warm smile encompassing your facial features.

"Oh, sweetheart," you practically let out a broken sob. You cannot even begin to fathom the multitudes of love that seeps out of Jeongin when it comes to you. He adores your very existence, believes he's blessed by it.

It only makes sense that if Jeongin had any sort of divine powers, he would part seas and move mountains if they were ever a hazard to you. He has built you a home out of the ground, for fuck's sake.

It has been made inadvertently clear to you that you are so lucky that a man like Jeongin loves you.

Somewhere on the front lines of the Allied Forces, 1944

The world did not look this barren ten years ago.

Once luscious fields of verdant vegetation have now become trampled earth, soiled with fragments of weapons and bones. No longer do children play here. No longer do the birds sing. The only sound that will reach your ears anymore are the explosions and the screams.

Jeongin is relieved that he has temporary salvation. He sits upon a creaky cot in the medical tent, the clamor of the room still better than any battlefield. He sighs, and unbuttons the first two buttons on his uniform, rolling up the sleeves. There's a gash that hurts like hell down his forearm, thanks to the grenade he practically dove in front of to save his unit, and he's been waiting to get it wrapped.

His stomach lurches, however, as screams intensify. The 25th Infantry was ambushed. Doctors and nurses surround the soldiers carried in, and they start looking for empty beds. Time is running out, and so is availability.

His arm throbs, and he groans, clenching his teeth. Everything feels hazy. As Jeongin swims in and out of consciousness, he can hear the voice of the head doctor over him.

"Someone treat this boy. We ought to get him out of here for space."

He doesn't hear the rest, as everything goes black.

"Oh no, this won't do at all." someone tuts, and Jeongin blinks wearily. A doctor is standing above him, writing about his condition on a clipboard. "Are you awake now, Yang?"

He looks up to see the face of an angel above him.

You smell like gardenias and vanilla and everything he's yearned for since he stepped onto that dingy plane to come fight here. Your hair is neat, your skin is glossy and not covered in soot (like so many people he's met before), and your medical uniform is pressed.

He's so busy staring at you in childlike awe that he forgets to answer your question. When you tilt your head, awkward silence forming an invisible barrier between you is when it finally hits him, and his cheeks turn the color of blooming roses.

"Oh, um, yes. I'm awake." he stammers. You smile, and reach for his arm.

"May I?" you ask softly, as if a loud voice will make the wound worse. Jeongin's heart skips a beat at your words. Just by speaking to him a few times, you've entangled him in your web. And Jeongin is making no attempt to escape. "It''ll only hurt for a second, dear. I just have to check it out."

He nods, exhaling shakily as you lift his arm to check how much motion he still has in it. Once that's done, you examine the laceration.

"And how did this come to be, hm?" you ask, applying ointment to the wound. Jeongin grunts, and you place another hand on his shoulder to ease him through it. He hates how vulnerable you make him, but the feeling of you taking care of him is so appetizing. It's not enough for him. He never wants to leave your side again.

"I was an idiot," Jeongin grumbles with heated cheeks. He can't lie to you, but the reason he's in here is stupid. "and there was a grenade the enemy planted in the ground. It was like a millisecond decision, but I tried to move it away from us and it exploded. Nobody got killed, but a shard of debris got stuck in my arm."

He notices you're listening to his story in astonishment. His cheeks grow redder and redder. You probably think he's an actual dumbass.

"Are you kidding?" you say once he's finished. "You're a hero, Lieutenant. You put your life on the line to help your fellow soldiers. That's so honorable. Goodness, now I feel honored to be operating on you!"

As you begin to dress his wound, you make small talk with him, and Jeongin realizes that you and him have so much in common. You're easy to talk to and so sweet. You even are from the same city as him, for fuck's sake!

Eventually, you have to leave to aid another patient, but you can't help but lean in to whisper into his ear.

"I'll see you around, Lieutenant."

Jeongin blushes as you say this, and yet, he's so confused why you're so keen on staying with him. You could've been doing it out of pity, and you could've been working on anything else. But you devoted your precious time to him. And that's what makes him all warm inside.

It's December of 1945, and Jeongin has officially been discharged from the military. It was a long war, but a victorious one, and every single person put in the effort necessary.

You were sent back in early summer, devastating Jeongin and you both. Ever since that day in the tent, you'd been inseparable. It truly was a sight, wasn't it? Young love, in the face of such tragedy. A doctor saving the wounded and a young soldier who could die at any moment.

Since returning home, you've busied yourself with volunteer work and anything that the people need. You've fallen back into the flow of working long shifts at the hospital. But one new thing - every week, you've sent a letter to Jeongin. He tries to send some back as often as he can, but he's a busy man. And it's worrying, isn't it? One day he could stop replying and you'd never know whether or not he was busy or the worst had happened.

But he'd survived, much to your relief, and you were ready to see him now.

The harbor is crowded with wives, children, and families, waiting to see their loved ones arrive safe and sound. It's beginning to snow rather dreadfully, and as you wrap your coat tighter around yourself, you hope that it doesn't delay their arrival.

Thankfully, your prayers are answered, and a loud horn blows as the ship comes into the harbor. Cheers erupt through the crowd, and people begin pushing forward, desperate to get to their person first.

You weave through the crowd and absolute chaos erupts the moment the first few people get off the boat. You're being tossed around, but you have to go find Jeongin no matter what. The sea of people is suffocating, and you trip over someone's foot trying to get closer. But someone wraps an arm around your waist to keep you steady.

When you look up, you see Jeongin's easy smile. You squeal, wrapping your arms tightly around him and he spins you around with a wide smile as he pulls you in for a long, loving kiss. His lips were always meant to be on yours. This is obvious through the way they mold into yours every time your lips connect. And when he finally pulls back, still holding you tightly, he grins.

"God, I've missed you."

Miroh Preparatory School, 1958

It's a sunny day on campus. You look at yourself in the mirror, at your freshly bought clothes. You turn once, or twice, excited to see your hard work paying off. The moment you saw this top at the store, red and black and so tuff, you knew you had to have it. You'd saved up your allowance for so long.

Your alarm chimes, and you jog over to check the time and your eyes nearly shoot out of your head. You're going to be late! You check yourself out one more time in the mirror, clip on cherry-shaped earrings, and dash out the door.

You vault onto your bike, spurring the wheels and gears into action and sighing in delight as the sun kisses your skin. Its golden rays dapple the sidewalk in front of you, setting the scene for a beautiful morning. You just hope you're pedaling fast enough to get there in time.

As you cruise along, you catch sight of your destination: the campus's soccer field. You ride around the path a couple of times, to divert their attention and make it seem like you're not there for any specific reason. Once they don't care to look is when you can look for your crush.

Yang Jeongin. The very glue that holds Miroh's undefeated varsity soccer team together. The team's most talented goalie in school history, with a slightly muscular frame and a smile that can melt any gal's heart. You park your bike and dash towards the stands, where your best friend and ticket to victory is standing.

Jisung is popular, in the same group as Jeongin, but what separates him from the rest is that he is insanely unathletic. Because of this, he is merely Miroh's team manager. But what he lacks in athletic prowess he makes up for in musical talent, stealing the hearts of people everywhere with his songs.

The two of you make an unlikely pair, since him and his friends are popular as hell and you're you, but in all honesty, you love spending time with him. You've known him since you were little living right next door to him, with gangly legs and candy wrappers stuffed into your pockets.

Jisung is the key piece to your plan to go out with Jeongin. He's your wingman, knowing the feelings you harbor for the dark-haired boy. You've begged him to bring you up during conversations and to tell you what Jeongin says. What you've gathered so far is that he thinks you're pretty, smart, and a good person.

That's not a lot, to be fair. He's probably trying to be nice, since he doesn't know you all that well. But frankly, you don't give a shit, because Jeongin thinks you're pretty.

"Quit it, hon." Jisung snaps his fingers in front of your face, breaking you out of your lovesick daydreams. "Practice is almost over, and he wants to talk to you about something. You've got to focus."

Your heart excitedly skips a beat. Jeongin wants to tell you something?! You look out at the field, where he's stretching his arms, ready to focus as team striker Hyunjin slams a ball at him full speed. Somehow, like a madman, Jeongin calculates the way Hyunjin kicks and easily blocks it. You watch in awe. How the hell did he do that?

And then he looks over and notices that you're watching him, and if you squint, you're 50% sure his cheeks grow pink. What? Before you can even process it, he's focused on practice once more, leaving you to wonder if that minute encounter was even real.

"Did...did you see that?" you ask, prodding at Jisung's shoulder, but much to your dismay, he's making googly eyes at the student council president and her clique. You sigh. However, the gradually increasing sound of chatter begins to draw closer.

Practice is over. The eleven boys on the team are laughing and joking around with each other, and one by one they offer you at least a ghost of a polite smile. The final two are Chan, the team captain, and Jeongin, who seems flustered from the avalanche of praise his hyung bestows upon him.

When they reach you, Chan winks and pushes Jeongin in your direction before grabbing Jisung by the arm and walking away. You're standing here awkwardly with the boy you've been in love with for the longest time, waiting for what he's going to say.

"Um, Jisung said you needed something from me?" You ask, fiddling with the hem of your top. He's looking at you weird. There's something unreadable in his expression. Oh god, did Jisung let it slip about you drawing hearts around his yearbook photos?!

"Yeah, sorry...I know you don't know me all that well." Jeongin says sheepishly, smiling. You feel your face begin to burn up. The irony is apparent here. "We had geometry together, right? With Mr. Park?"

Of course you remember. That was the class where you fell head over heels for him. You sat behind him, giving you the ability to gaze at him adoringly. He was funny and smart, and brightened the room.

"Yeah, we did!" you smile at him. "But what do you need? I'd be happy to help." His cheeks grow pink at your words, and he becomes a blushing mess.

"So, um, you know how there's a school dance next week? For the homecoming game? I was wondering if you wanted to come as my date." he stammers. "See, I've had this crush on you ever since geometry. You haven't left my mind once."

You genuinely cannot tell whether or not this is a dream, as you nod excitedly and wrap your arms around him. Your high school sweetheart likes you back!

Decades later, you'll sit in a comfortable chair, showing your grandchildren this picture. It is of you and Jeongin, dated 1958, his arm wrapped languidly around you as you smile and laugh before the dance wearing coordinating colors. You'll remain hopelessly enamored with each other for the rest of your lives, creating a family and a home. Perfect for each other, as if the universe hand-crafted the string of fate that binds you with gentle, loving hands.

Seoul University, 2024

You'd rather be anywhere but here.

It's late, and your head is pounding from the loud music blasting around you. Hyunjin just had to drag you to one of his parties on a Friday night, which you were totally unprepared for. Now, you lean against the wall, absentmindedly swirling a drink you'd rather not touch.

Your internal silence is interrupted when a young man with ginger hair walks up to you. He wears a black tank top and jeans, and holds a red solo cup in one hand covered in rings.

"You seem lonely," he observes. You don't want to admit it, so you offer him a tight-lipped smile. "Mind if I offer you company?"

You've never met this man in your life. Yet something about him seems so...familiar. His existence is unbeknownst to you, but he's prominent already. And on his ring finger, strangely, he wears a silver ring with willow branches. Just like the one you have.

"Excuse me, have we met before?" you ask, absolutely bewildered. A fire lights up in his chocolate eyes. He reaches out to take your cup from you, placing it on a table nearby.

"Yes, we know each other. And we are meeting each other for the first time right now. My name's Jeongin." he says. And then you know. There's no proof that Jeongin is the one for you, but there's a feeling in your gut that you never want to be separated from him again.

"What...what do you mean, that we know each other?" you ask, intrigued. Jeongin chuckles, running a hand through his smooth hair. "I'm racking my brain here. I genuinely cannot think of a single interaction with you."

"Who knows?" Jeongin replies with a wink. "Maybe it was in a different universe. We could even be lovers."

You laugh at his goofy flirting, not thinking much of it. Jeongin seems like the type of guy you could see yourself having a true connection with.

"Well, let's see if that proves to be true." You look out over the droves of people dancing and come to the obvious conclusion that you would rather be anywhere but here. "I'm over this. Want to go grab something to eat?"

Jeongin gives you a smile that can only be classified as sugary sweet. He takes you by the hand, leading you out of the apartment until it's just the two of you. And you just feel so at ease with him. There is no place you'd rather be than beside Jeongin.

And there you will stay, no matter what. There's no use tampering with fate.

@evermourning, ©2024. all rights reserved.

[thescarletnargacuga]

MONSTER

A HARLEQUIN AU SHOWTIME ONESHOT

Harlequin AU credit: @iamespecter @tadc-harlequin-au

Special thanks to: @sirrockem

A/N: This takes place after the events of "The way of the combat Harlequin"

WARNING: hurt/comfort, puppet nudity (not explicit)

~~~

Pomni tucked Cade into bed. "Try to get some sleep, you had a big day."

"Mom, if I see those marionettes in my dreams...I'm not too big to come sleep with you and dad, am I?" Cade looked at his mother with pleading eyes.

Pomni ran her hand comfortingly over Cade's head. "No, you're never too big to come to us for comfort. We'll always be here for you."

"Okay... goodnight, mom. Love you."

"Goodnight, Cade." Pomni gave him a kiss and left his room, leaving the door cracked to let light from the hallway inside.

Pomni slowly walked to her room. Today's events still plagued her mind. How hard she went on what she considered low level enemies. Cade's face afterwards. The very fact that she had to tell her own son that she wasn't a threat to him...

She accepted the fact that she was a killing machine a long time ago. If the idea of her directive ever bothered her, she stamped it down. It was a distraction she couldn't afford when she was on a mission.

First mission, seek and destroy....and protect? Her broken directive misguided her to the puppetmaster.

Then, missions to defeat the B.O.S.Ses. She HAD to send them to the void before they were reborn in their new forms.

But she found the moral quandary of her bloodlust harder to ignore the more enlightened she became. She was more aware of what combat felt like to her, and how much she craved it like a drug. She didn't just want to fight, she needed to. The joy she got from facing a worthy opponent was unmatched for the longest time.

Then Caine happened. His kindness, his patience, his temperament, his love for her made her feel another joy she didn't know even existed. She rationalized with herself that her urge to fight could be used only to protect and that lie became truth to her when she told it to herself enough.

She protects her city, friends, and family with her urge....but it's still an urge. She still gets antsy when she doesn't see combat for a long enough period of time. She still finds herself wishing to wander to find an even bigger and badder enemy. As much as she is her own person, she still has her vices. It wasn't until her son feared for his life in front of her that she realized how toxic it could be if left unchecked.

Pomni shut herself in the master bedroom and took off her belt, holding the sheathed sword gingerly as if it would come to life and bite her. "I'm being ridiculous...." She tried to tell herself, but her hands trembled. She dropped the sword on the floor next to her side of the bed and sat down, head in her hands. "I can control it..."

She didn't look up when Caine entered the room, dropping his cane and coat. "Ugh...those marionettes caused more trouble than they were worth. Eight puppets need to be rebuilt and revived, and security demands for the east side have gone up. We're spread thin enough as it is." He flopped on the bed next to Pomni. "How's Cade?"

Pomni took out her hair tie, letting her longer hair drape her shoulders. "Better...we had a talk."

"....are you okay?" Caine sat up, hearing the despondent tone in her voice.

Pomni took a moment to answer. "...Cade wasn't afraid of the marionettes. He was afraid of me." She held herself in an attempt to self-soothe. "You should have seen his eyes..."

Caine wrapped an arm around Pomni, holding her close next to him. "He's never seen you in actual combat. It was just a lot for him to take in."

"He wouldn't let me touch him!" Pomni almost sobbed. "He thought I would hurt him next, like I was some out of control monster!"

"Hey..." He gently held her chin. "Look at me...you are not a monster. Your detective is not your fault, and you've made leaps and bounds to use it the way you see fit, not the person who programmed you. You are Pomni: the woman I love, the mother of our child, the protector of the City of Circuits... Not one of those things makes you a monster."

Pomni had no more tears. She was spent; physically and emotionally. "Enjoying combat does, wanting it as much as I do..."

"Were you happy to see the marionettes today?" Caine asked seriously.

"....no."

"You wanted to protect Cade and the city?"

"...yes."

"Pomni, you're not what you think of yourself. Cade was frightened, anyone would be, but he doesn't hate you. No one hates you."

Pomni gave a dry laugh. "Jax might..."

Caine chuckled a little. "Jax is a special case." He looked Pomni over, she had cleaned herself off a bit before seeing Cade, but there were still dried oil stains on her clothes and skin. "Let me get you clean. You'll feel a little better refreshed."

Pomni had no energy to argue. She let Caine lead her to the bathroom and remove her clothing. Caine ran a bath as hot as Pomni could stand and gestured for her to get in while he got a cleanser and washcloth.

Pomni sank into the steaming water up to her shoulders and closed her eyes. The stress of the day melted away as her body relaxed. She let out a content sigh as Caine gently bathed her. His ungloved metal hands felt cool against her synthetic skin. Pomni leaned her head back to rest against the edge of the tub.

Caine gently scrubbed away the oil, his movements deliberate but soothing. When he finished, he focused on her hair. He brushed it out, removing the tangles and wayward strands. He loved to pamper her like this, especially when she needed it like today.

Caine left a quick kiss on Pomni's forehead. "I'll let you soak. Let me know when you're ready for bed." He got up to leave but Pomni grabbed his hand.

"Join me." As much as Pomni enjoyed the water by herself, she didn't want to be alone right now.

Caine didn't need any convincing. He stripped down and eased himself into the bath behind Pomni. He held her in his lap, leaving small kisses on her neck and shoulders. "I love you." He whispered to her.

"I love you, too." Pomni mumbled back sleepily. Between the warm water and Caine's embrace, she felt relaxed enough to rest. "I'm sorry..."

Caine furrowed. "For what?"

"That you still have to deal with my bullshit."

Caine smiled warmly and kissed her cheek. "My love, I married you. I took a vow to deal with your bullshit for the rest of my life."

Pomni smiled a little. "My condolences."

"Keep them, just give me everything else." He hugged her tighter.

"All yours." Pomni yawned. "Thank you, for this."

"My pleasure, dear." Caine held her as she drifted off. He enjoyed the bath for a little longer before blinking them both into the bed, dry as a bone. He tucked Pomni in and held her to him as he found sleep.

[seneon]

I'm so sorry i didn't know about this lmao >¬<

Can You please do a Abyss x reader oneshot ? (i don't know for an idea I'm really bad for idéa sorry T-T) but whatever You write i know it would be amazing <3

I really don't know what to say sorry ahah :')

featuring. abyss razor x fem! reader — oneshot.

genre. romance | fuedal japan! alternate universe.

synopsis. in which, abyss was sent on a mission to capture an infamous criminal but in reality, he saves her.

notes. 1.8k words | taken and edited from my oneshot book ANGELS in wattpad. this is originally a kamui (gintama) and rin oneshot. anyways, abyss is actually so pretty 😭😭

abyss razor roamed through the underground red light districts of yoshiwara — old tokyo, with the samurai lord he served under, abel walker.

they were oblivious to it, but women had their eyes on the fellow samurai.

the ladies whispered among themselves, wondering who these attractive young men were.

the samurai men had striking features, good height, their eyes, and overall, their serious demeanour. they wore fine clothing, showing everyone they work for the shogun, prominent and the best in their field.

a mission was what the two were on, in seacrh of a few criminals to murder. each samurai was given a different task, abel receiving the more brutal and heinous criminals and abyss receiving orders to search for intel.

but abyss never intended to search for intel upon stepping foot in this... all glorious district of endless entertainment.

it bore him to know that many samurai came here to have fun with women and drink their night away, immediately spotting a few rivals of his, drinking.

abyss' sole purpose of coming here was to find for a certain woman.

ah . . . a woman that held a great place in his organ called heart. never would abyss himself thought he would be looking forward in a search for her, a recently known villain.

"abyss, go west. i will search east. we return at six in the middle of four directions," abel said before vanishing in a flash, heading to the east for his mission.

the said male scanned the area and started to move his feet to collect as many information on you as he can.

there were oiran making their way to customers of prominence, dancers, sake, music and light all around the place. it was a place abyss wasn't very fond of, for he preferred silence and a time to solitary.

what he needed now was a change of clothes. citizens had their eyes on the samurai, growing weary of his idea of being in a red light district. so he went to the nearest shop to buy a cheap kimono to disguise himself.

abyss quickly picked up the clues that was given to him as a starter from the palace. now he has a lead, that you were a master in disguise, and there was a well-known brothel that recently recruited a skillful courtesan.

that brothel was the first place he went to as a normal customer looking for a service.

"greetings. may i ask for kitsuhime oiran?" he asked the receptionist, as the male shook his head.

"kitsuhime-sama is currently serving a customer, but our other courtesans are available for you, sir."

"it's alright. when will she be free? i'll pay you in gold for an audience with her."

the receptionist hesitated to answer the offer abyss gave him. it had not been the first time men had brought up gold for their best courtesan in their service.

"uh, she should be free in two days. if you could wait sir, we'll—"

"how does a hundred gold sound to you?"

"uhm... i'm not sure if that's how it works.."

"a hundred and fifty."

"sir.."

"excuse me, what is going on?" another male voice asked, standing beside abyss in hopes on lending a hand to the troubled.

the receptionist perked up in hope. "ah! haru-sama! this fellow customer wanted an audience with kitsuhime-sama, and he keeps raising the wage. i don't know what to do..."

the male whom the blue-haired male assumed was a high ranking staff in this brothel placed his fingers on his chin, thinking hardly. his dark red scanned from top to bottom, before letting out a sigh. "guess there's no choice. did you bring the goods?"

rin nodded, stashing a bag of gold onto the table. "when can i meet the courtesan?"

"right now. her schedule is empty, since her customer went out for a small errand," haru said as he quickly counted the gold. "one hundred fourty two, three... one fifty... deal. you have fifteen minutes at most. this way, sir."

the male with red eyes led abyss through the huge brothel and abyss wished he at least waxed his ears temporarily from the erotic sounds he kept hearing throughout the whole place.

he felt relieved when they ascended, the noises disappearing behind them. abyss believed they were heading to the highest and most off-limits floors, a high-class area.

haru stopped at the room right at the end of the floor, opening the door while stepping aside for the customer to head in. he walked in after abyss, shutting the door behind him.

abyss grew alert at the sound of the door shutting, his eyes looking around the room.

"kitsuhime-sama! you have an unexpected audience," haru said, abyss taking a glance behind to have his eyes widened in sheer shock.

he froze at the sight of haru slowly peeling himself off. only to reveal a completely different person underneath it.

abyss couldn't see who it was, for the male was peeling off the skin on his face. e/c eyes then flashed under the moonlight, fingers moving to remove the wig.

a chill ran down abyss' spine, like tiny spiders crawling down his skin. the moment it was revealed who was under it, he couldn't help but remembered old memories that seemed to get more prominent now that he sees a familiar face.

how long has it been since he saw that face? the same old smirk that he recognised since childhood, and the eyes that held so many dreams, only to be crushed right in front of him.

"care for a round of sake?" you asked, your smirk turning into a slight smile.

the razor was too stunned to speak at the sight of seeing you for the first time in all these years. you were a criminal now, working as a courtesan, and disguised as a man...?

everything was spinning around him. he didn't know what to do, so he simply nodded and sat down on the cushion laid out for customers and a courtesan to have a chat.

it was quiet, sentimental, as you carefully and gracefully poured japanese alcohol into both cups, handing one to abyss. he picked it up and drank it, still registering what had happened.

"why have you come here?" you asked, gaze on the samurai, "i thought you didn't like red light districts."

it was quiet again. you sipped on your alcohol, never taking your eyes off of the man you haven't seen for a long time.

he was as beautiful as you remember, a child connected to the moon in a way that it favours him. even if his eyes were eyepatched from a battle wound. abyss is even more beautiful now, his features chiseled and you could tell he had been doing some hard work.

"i'm on a mission. you are one of the shogun's targets."

"and you've became a shogun dog," you never let him finished. shutting your eyes while feeling the most ease, you sighed.

abyss felt his eyes twitched at your answer, but he kept his cool and set down the sake cup. "i became one to receive top notch training. to find you, and follow you until the ends of the earth."

it was your turn to be caught off-guard. it seems like he hadn't forget about the promise they made during childhood after all.

"as courtesan, may i have my valued customer's name?" you asked, wanting to hear him said it himself.

"abyss razor."

it ringed around your ears, inside your mind and down to the core of your memories. you knew who he was, yet hearing him said it himself was . . . different.

abyss!

a little girl, no more than the age of nine would call out for the boy who was staring at the black heavens that was filled with twinkling little life.

she would twirl around and capture abyss into a deadly hug, releasing to then plop herself beside him. wherein little abyss would be flushed red and continue his stargazing.

"hey abyss, when you grow up, what do you want to do or be?" she asked, and the little razor would soon fell deep into his thoughts.

"hmm... i want to be like abel-san! i want to be a cool man who's going to be a samurai and protect everyone i love. like mom and dad, abel-san... and you!" he gave her a goofy smile. "you?"

it was little y/n's turn to think for a while. and when she found the perfect answer, she returned the same childish grin he gave her. "i'll go with you anywhere!!"

lies.

she was taken away months after those words came out. oh how abyss fell into ultimate despair seeing her getting taken away by the shogun's officials. her eyes only held the look of fear, tears running down her cheeks.

"i'll be a strong samurai and protect you! then i'll follow you wherever you go! i promise, y/n!" abyss could only shout his little throat out, his older friend, abel, holding him back from any more harm the officials might inflict.

abyss couldn't defeat the people that took away his only friend. he was simply too weak, a mere child with the brightest dreams.

who knew the person he looked up to the most would also leave him to volunteer in a recruitment for new generation samurai?

everything was ruined, so much that abyss' mind became twisted and he too, would soon join the next recruitment to search for you. only to find that you are now a criminal.

your eyes stared at the table contents of a tea set. throat becoming dryer and dryer as seconds passed by. "i'm a murderer now. what are you going to do?" it turned intense and heavy around the atmosphere.

".. i don't care. you simply killed the men that tried assaulting you back in the palace right? that is nothing," he said coolly, pouring for the both of you another drink. "i plan to retire to make the shogun mad anyways."

"so, will you come with me?"

you chuckled at his words. things had certainly changed, abyss too, for he had grown way more mature than you are compared to your childhood days.

it all felt so nostalgic, to be speaking to the razor the same as you both did back then.

"i will."

a smile unconsciously crawled up to abyss' lips, portraying a beauty you hadn't seen in forever. such a work of art, indeed.

if the woman sitting in front of him knew what he was thinking about, you were definitely, most certainly the y/n that abyss was looking for.

there was no mistaking it. you were the light to his darkness. and even if you committed a crime or two, it was all for abyss and a promise.

you elegantly stood up, a habit picked up from the brothel owner that brought you in to keep your disguise.

"but first. i just want you to know this place is a disguise itself. everyone here has committed a crime before, even customers. it's my home."

"sounds like a you thing to do. now then, shall we abandon everything and head for a run? i don't want to be seen as a samurai any longer ," he stood up, holding a hand out.

you immediately accepted it with a smile, "we shall, abyss."

"perfect."

istg if anyone talks or mentions about raiden shogun or whoever tf she is, i will literally send you paragraphs to educate you that shogun doesn't only exist in genshin impact and it's actually history in japan 💀

[fxnofthxngs]

"Lust auf Dich" (Lust for You) Oneshot

Here it is!! My spicy and smutty oneshot that has taken me FOREVER to finish! Starring a female reader and our favorite handsome German masochist, Till Lindemann himself. Enjoy!

(⚠️ Content warning: swearing, smut, sexual themes, brief relationship tension ⚠️)

“No.” Till’s deep, baritone voice sent a chill down your spine, as only his East German accent could, his cerulean eyes darkening and brows furrowing as he sat on the edge of the queen-sized bed. He and his long-term partner, you, of about a year had been staying in a modest hotel in Berlin, on a short vacation after both of you had been quite stressed with work lately.

“Till, come on, don’t do this,” You replied while rolling your eyes, slowly shaking your head as you stood across the room from him, leaning against the wall with tightly folded arms. Your hair bounced slightly with the movement of your head, and your right foot had inadvertently begun tapping incessantly against the floor with your growing anxiety.

“Nein, das tust du nicht. (No, you don’t do this.)“ He snapped back with a slight curl of his upper lip, a small chuckle of disbelief escaping his lips while he ran his hands over the dyed blonde locks on his head.

“Oh, verdammt noch mal – (Oh, for f*ck’s sake) I told you it would be just a month! Do you not trust me to be by myself?” 

You retorted, a simmering anger coursing through your veins as you narrowed your eyes and glared over at your lover. At that point, Till rose from the bed and stalked over to where you remained leaning against the wall beside the door, stopping just in front of you. You did not budge an inch, merely dropping your arms to your sides as you sized him up. Till smirked with a sense of disdain, pressing one hand against the wall beside your head, the other lovingly cupping your cheek with his larger, calloused hand. 

“What if I could arrange for you to get some extra sick days off work? That way, you wouldn’t have to go anywhere, and you could stay here.” He whispered, in a tone that dripped with the kind of lust and honey only reserved for you to hear. 

You immediately widened your eyes, cocking your head slowly to the side, debating the option being presented to you. On the one hand, you would have preferred to physically be at your workplace, despite it being a stifling and stuffy office job, where you practically sat at your desk for 8 hours a day. Also, it would be nice to visit your family for the first time in almost two months, since your parents were getting older and you worried about them being on their own, despite their reassurances they were fine and didn’t want you to stress over them. 

However, you simply could not resist entertaining the idea of getting to stay in Germany with the man you loved so dearly, not needing to worry about eating the same bagged lunch every afternoon and being subjected to the inevitable boredom that came with in-person business meetings and the seemingly never-ending influx of customer calls. After a beat or two of tense but comfortable silence between the two of you, you smirked back up at him and raised your chin, almost like you were trying to appear taller than him.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, gutaussehend (handsome)...” You whispered, licking your delicate lips mere seconds before Till lifted you in his arms, allowing you to hastily wrap your legs around his waist. Grabbing a fistful of his hair with one hand, and hooking the opposite arm around his neck, you smashed your lips against his and he quickly returned the favor. Till held you up against the wall, one hand supporting your butt and the other clawing down your clothed back, showcasing his insatiable need to have you right then and there. The room, being dimly lit by several warm wall-mounted light fixtures held up by intricate brass fixtures, was quickly being filled with the sound of desperate, breathy moans, and the sloppy wet kisses between both lovers.

“Till … bed –” You breathed out softly, your brows worrying with desperation in reaction to the rocker harshly bucking his clothed hips and bulge against your clothed mound. He only gave a quick nod of acknowledgment to your words, turning you both around and carrying you swiftly over to the crisp white sheets. Laying you down, your head gently hit the pillows as he kicked off his boots and hurriedly pulled off your sneakers, keeping his much taller frame hovered over yours.

Till pulled his lips away from yours, leaving you to whimper softly at the temporary loss of contact. Throwing off his military-style show jacket , with his shirt quickly following, both items hit the carpeted floor below. You followed suit, tearing off your own shirt, and hurrying to unclasp your bra before tossing those down, adding to the small pile of clothes on the floor. 

“Du bist sündig, weißt du das...?" (You are sinful, you know that…?“)

He groaned huskily, laughing and quickly diving down to encircle you in his loving grasp once more, continuing the bruising yet blissful kiss. Before long, Till grabbed hold of the waistline of your sweatpants, shimmying them and your already damp panties, down your legs and throwing them off of you without a second thought. You let out a small yelp at the feeling of your body now being completely bare for him to see and do whatever he so desired. Bending your legs at the knees, Till licked his lips hungrily before grabbing hold of both your kneecaps and spreading your legs apart.

“Mhm.. please..” You whined under your breath, loud enough for him to hear though as he got to work unbuckling his belt and discarding it, with his pants and underwear being the last to go before both of you were naked and on full display for one another. Climbing fully back on top of you, Till began desperately kissing your lips once more, holding your face while simultaneously reaching down to your core. Holding his finger to his lips, he spits on his index finger before pushing it as deep inside you as he could go, curling it upwards and flicking against the spongy flesh that drove you wild. You immediately threw your head back, biting down on your bottom lip and squeezing your eyes shut, gripping the pillow while your other hand flew down to grip the sheets. “Oh m – h-harder!” 

Till chuckled and grunted hoarsely, his voice sounding more animalistic and primal than anything else. Your commands did nothing to quell the aching and throbbing pain that had a chokehold on his cock, which he did his best to ignore as he inserted yet another large finger inside of you, roughly punishing your pussy, even faster and harder now. All your ears could hear at that point, besides your already hitched and heavy breathing, was the squelching of your juices as he smacked one of your breasts across the nipple, causing a harsh sting that made you cry with pleasure. 

“FUCK! T-Till..” You cried, feeling the familiar tightening of the coil in your abdomen that always began to wound up just before an orgasm. Speaking of, just before you could allow yourself to let go all over his fingers, he wagged his finger in your direction and pulled them out, to which you responded by groaning with irritation and opening your eyes to glare at him. He merely just kept that devilishly handsome grin plastered on his face, and at that point you propped yourself up on your elbows, opening your mouth to speak. Watching him spit on his cock, he began stroking it rapidly, and you felt your mouth watering at the sight of just how big he was, despite having had sex with him on numerous occasions before.

“Shh, shh, Meine Liebe.. You do not need to do anything for me, today, you only need to lean back and relax, kannst du das für mich tun (can you do that for me)...?” He cooed in one of the sweetest voices you had ever heard from him, nodding your head carefully while dreamily smiling up at him. Lying all the way back down, you got yourself as comfortable as you could while Till crawled all the way on top of you, still holding himself in his hand and not breaking eye contact with you once. You gasped sharply and felt your pussy squeeze around nothing, at the sensation of him slapping your sensitive clit with the tip of his cock, grunting at just how painfully hard he was now.

“Breathe.. For me..” Till whispered into your ear, taking note of your deep and shaky inhale, while nibbling affectionately on your ear lobe as you ran your hands up his back, anticipating the inevitable intrusion of his monstrous dick inside you. Finally, he began pushing himself all the way inside, slowly and carefully to allow you a moment to adjust to his size, which these days was a pleasureful and delicious feeling of being filled. Of course, the first time the two of you had decided to consummate your passion-fueled relationship, the stretch and burn of his dick penetrating you was so intense, to the point where you nearly passed out from euphoria, before he had even gotten all of his length into you.

Nowadays, you were usually the first to initiate the intrusion, whether it be riding him cowgirl-style and sinking down slowly onto his length, or getting down on all fours taking charge, reaching behind you to practically force him into you, which always turned him on more than he’d care to admit.

At first, his thrusts were slow and seemed to drag on, always nervous about harming you or taking his lust a step too far. After all, the heated argument you’d had moments before had irritated and angered both of you, despite having found a peaceful resolution to the conflict. However, you were not shy to let him know you needed all of him right now, wrapping both legs instinctively around his waist and bringing him even deeper inside of you. “Harder, p-please..!” You cried out, throwing your head back against the soft pillows, just as Till let out a low and guttural growl, feeling his dick get even more sensitive at the feeling of the inside of your ribbed pussy clenching hopelessly to him. His thrusts quickly picked up in speed and force, the head of his cock was now pounding against your cervix, as both of you became more frantic and desperate to be completely entangled in one another and reach the pinnacle of this intimate moment. By now, it seemed impossible to tell where one of your bodies began and where the other ended, your bodies meshing messily together.

“Till, I - I’m close! Fuck!” You yelped, with tears of pleasure brimming in your eyes as you dug your nails firmly into his back and kept a grip on his skin so tight, you were sure you’d leave a mark or two.

"Scheisse.. Noch nicht (Shit, not yet). I want you to cum on my cock, while I fuck my cum up into you, ja..?” He hissed through gritted teeth, using both of his hands to grip bruisingly hard onto your hips, taking full control and staring lovingly down into your eyes, your gaze meeting his as your mouth hung wide open. Pressing his forehead against yours, neither one of you could deny how damn good it felt to have each other like this. Raw, animalistic fucking that felt like the first time, each time.

With the tightening band in your lower belly threatening to snap at any moment, you threw your hand into his hair, grabbing a fistful and holding on for dear life. Till was close too, you could tell by the way he nuzzled his face into the crook between your neck and shoulder, kissing and sucking on the skin there like a desperate man dying of thirst.

Staring up into his lust-filled eyes, your mouth, tiny beads of sweat sprinting down your back and forehead, you could tell he was fighting the inevitable urge to cum right then and there, clearly trying to hold out for as long as he could. His brows were furrowed with determination, inching closer and closer to reaching the ultimate goal of both of you achieving the climax of your intimacy at the same time. As your toes curled together, you felt Till swipe some of your dampened hair from your forehead, wet from the sweat that had collected there before he planted a loving and carefully placed peck on your cheek. 

“Babe, please – I’m s-so close..I-I’m gonna c-cum!” You whined with delight as if you were drowning in a deep ocean of ultimate delirium and euphoria that you did not want to come up for air from. 

“Verdammte Scheiße (fucking shit)..! Me too, ah ah.. so eng, so gut (so tight, so good)..” He breathed out laboriously, reaching the pinnacle of just how hard and fast he could thrust his aching length inside of you, his languid movements now becoming slightly haphazard. By that point, you began yelling out at the sensation of your imminent orgasm, followed by a desperate moan that was swallowed up by Till placing his lips onto yours and kissing you with a heightened fervor, both of your tongues dancing in a desirous oral tango. Your heart was hammering like a drill against the forefront of your chest, and you could have sworn you could hear the blood pumping in your ears. At last, you felt that ever-winding cord in your belly finally give way, snapping like a weak twig as you felt your pussy clench and your juices gushing forth and all over Till’s cock.

This set off his own orgasm, before which he let out one final animalistic roar of relief as he gave three more harsh, pounding thrusts into you, before his hot seed sprayed forth from his reddened tip, kicking deep within your walls and painting them white. Just then, he exhaled loudly and collapsed on top of you, burying his face into the crook of your neck and leaving slow, sensual kisses on the skin there. 

Placing one of your hands on the back of Till’s neck, while the other began tracing invisible shapes on his chest, you both took the precious few moments of post-orgasmic bliss to catch your breath and allow your hearts to slow down to their normal rhythms. Slowly, you unwrapped your legs from his body and allowed them to rest on the bed, while Till let out a hearty chuckle and kissed your nose before rolling off of you, both of you hissing at the feeling of his cock sliding out of your soaked and sensitive walls. Sitting up slightly, he ran his fingers through his platinum blonde hair and clicked his tongue, while you promptly sat up as well and crawled up beside him, draping one leg over both of his and resting your head on his chest. Listening to his heart was usually something you did when you needed to relax or calm down, and Till would always indulge you by stroking your hair and kissing your head, even singing softly in German if you asked him to.

“How are you doing, Mein Liebling (my darling)..?” He cooed into your hair, his voice dripping with that sickly sweet affection that made your heart flutter like an over energized butterfly, and sent a familiar pang of want down to your core.

“Good, good, you always know just how to help me relax..” You replied, playfully smirking up at him.

“If you’d like, we could find some other ways to relax.” He challenged huskily, licking his lips and dipping his lips back down to meet with yours, kissing you softly and leaving you wanting to go for round two right then and there.

“Shh, now now, mister, let’s rest for a little bit before we think about doing that again, ja (yes)…?” You teased, pulling your lips from his, with a sultry expression painted over your face. Till nodded slowly and laughed quietly, as he usually was the one who had to tame you and remind you that he was not as young as he used to be. With both of you lying there, a mess of limbs, evaporating sweat, and relaxed breathing, you closed your eyes and within a few minutes you had fallen peacefully asleep.

Just before you drifted into unconsciousness, however, you could have sworn you heard him whisper, singing sweetly into your ear ”Ich habe Lust auf dich, nur auf dich (I lust for you, only you)…“

[spagedster]

Reddie oneshot ideas for if/when I remember how to write short things

College au where Richie has a weekly show on the campus radio and Eddie calls in every time to complain about his music taste

The Losers Join Middle/High School Theater™ with Richie and Eddie working on sets (+Actors Bill and Mike, costume department Beverly, lights crew Stan, and sound crew Ben)

Corporate au where they both keep getting HR called on them (Eddie keeps staring at the wall and people think he's high but he's actually just Like That and Richie keeps joking that he wants to die)

post 2nd clown fight Reddie goes on a spontaneous trip down east

The Losers form a band and also it’s the 70s

[rohirric-hunter]

Angstober Day 01: Again

I wrote this on the first but decided to leave it to the weekend to edit. And then I had to shove a ton of context into it so it would make sense to people who aren't in a specific discord. Split down the middle because here's some more context in the author's note:

My first concept of LotRO fanfic came to me as I was exploring Angmar, and it was something something dealing with the remnants of Angmar post-war. Mostly just a loose idea, but one that stuck with me and slowly developed as my OCs developed. When LotRO released a quest pack dealing with that very thing, I was pleased to discover that it wanted very little adjusting to fit in with my own ideas. Basically, those adjustments are: the events of the Return to Carn Dum questpack take place over the course of several years, rather than the couple of weeks that it seems to take in canon, and without the intervention of any Player Characters. (The PC only got involved because of LotRO's improbable mail system anyway. Skyrim Courier eat your heart out.) As a result, certain things turn out differently, some worse and some better, and no one outside of Angmar really gets involved until around S.R 1425. This oneshot takes place early in the inevitable conflict. The remnants of the Angmarim garrison at the Ironspan aren't really representative of Ásachal and the other Angmarim still holding on to Carn Dûm, but they are empowered by knowing that Carn Dûm is still in Angmarim hands.

Warning for non-explicit mentions of torture.

~*~*~*~

Not again, you think.

You know very little of what happened to Lothrandir during his imprisonment in Isengard. If Léonys is recalcitrant about her time there, Lothrandir speaks of it both more and less. He mentions it often, but carefully skirts around any actual detail, a habit, you think, that tells a clearer tale than he would like.

Not that the little band of Angmarim remnants who inhabit the tower along the Forodwaith road a few leagues east of the Ironspan could hope to compare to a Wizard. Still, Lothrandir looks eerily similar to how he had in the flooded depths of Isengard, head bowed in exhaustion or pain, knees pulled to his chest, skin covered in bruises and lacerations. The little cave, or more accurately the crevice, that your rescue party had found and made camp in between two great sheets of stratified stone is warmer and homier and definitely safer than the caverns beneath Saruman's tower, but it feels all too similar, seeing him in drafty, damp half-light.

He looks up at your approach, and despite everything offers a thin smile — much as he had for Léonys when she had at last wrested the door open and run to his side, so many years ago. "Hathellang," he says. "I thought you told me you hated it this far north."

Aragorn steps past you and kneels beside Lothrandir, opposite Radanir, who holds Lothrandir's left hand with a grip that speaks of no intention to release any time soon. You can hardly wonder at that, for of your little group only Radanir had ventured into the tower through the gap in their defenses you had found in their primitive and ill-kept sewers and seen Lothrandir in his prison. Perhaps you might have been better suited to the job, for you are more skilled than Radanir at getting into places where you are not wanted and staying hidden, but after having witnessed Lothrandir captured on what should have been a routine patrol of the westernmost side of the Ironspan he would not be kept away from his kinsman for anything. And you had been of more service of a distraction, anyhow, for the scattered remnants of Angmar have not soon forgotten the names and faces of those who were most instrumental in bringing it down. In any event, what you can see of Lothrandir is bad enough, his clothes more tattered than they ought to be after little more than a week, and the worst of it likely hidden by the cloak wrapped about him. You hardly dare to think what Radanir saw. You have been in enough Angmarim dungeons to guess at it.

"Yes, well," you say. "Maybe there's a reason for that. It's always something up here."

You had planned on stuidously avoiding the topic of Isengard, but Lothrandir saves you the trouble by bringing it up himself. "Oh, come now," he says. "It's not so bad. They haven't even got a wizard here, and only one troll."

"No trolls, now," you say. Your gaze falls to the shackles around Lothrandir's ankles, and without thinking you kneel before him, hand fumbling in your pocket for your toolkit. "May I?" you ask, and Lothrandir hesitates the barest moment before nodding.

Like most Angmarim locks, it is not difficult to pick and requires no finesse. This one uses four pins instead of the usual three, but your biggest difficulty is in keeping yourself from disturbing the surrounding bruises and cuts on his legs and bare feet. But you are not unpracticed at this, and pin the shackle tightly between your right knee and the end of your right arm, pin the tension pick against the back of your elbow, and then with your left hand insert a serrated jiggling tool. It is only a few moments of jiggling before the lock pops open and one of Lothrandir's legs is freed.

As he stretches it out, Lothrandir speaks to you again. "I am glad you came," he says quietly. "You traveled far to help me."

You look up from where you are positioning yourself for the second shackle. Really, it would be easier if you would just use your right hand to pick it, but that would require getting into your bag and finding the tool you had made yourself for such purposes, attaching it to your arm, and then putting it away when you are done. It's not worth it, not for this lock.

Lothrandir is not looking at you. His head is turned downwards, as Aragorn runs his hands along Lothrandir's scalp, searching for head injuries, you assume. His face is obscured by hair pushed forward. You put your tools down and reach out, taking hos free hand in yours and offering an affectionate squeeze. "And I'll do it again," you say.

[glykerniaz]

A thousand nights have passed Change doesn't happen overnight

# BLACK SEA ;     Some scholars understand the name to be derived from a system of colour symbolism representing the cardinal directions, with black or dark for north, red for south, white for west, and green or light blue for east. Hence, "Black Sea" meant "Northern Sea".

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[littleredpencil]

Work Song

Type: Oneshot Fandom: VLD Pairing: Shiro/Adam

Based on an ask suggesting that Work Song by Hozier is an Adashi song; just two tired soldiers who deserve to finally have some peace together.

----------

The house was old. Its wooden floors creaked and it had no right angles, the supports hidden away by plaster walls sagging and shifting as every new year brought further settling of the foundation. The furniture was sparse, chosen for efficiency rather than comfort, but as bare minimum the shelter the house provided, it might as well have been a fairy tale castle.

Because it was on Earth. Solid ground beneath his feet and familiar constellations overhead.

Shiro stepped out of the aging shower, inspecting his reflection in the cracked, foggy mirror. White hair, tired eyes, scarred face…he both looked and felt far older than his twenty-six years.

He dripped off a bit on the threadbare shower mat, knowing that the warmth of the US west’s summer was going to hit him in earnest as soon as he was dry. This place didn’t have any air conditioning, adjusting to it from the climate-controlled vessels of space travel was going to take some time.

When he did dress it was in borrowed clothes, a pair of fatigue pants and black t-shirt that was a little bit snug on him. He had always been more muscular than the shirt’s owner, but now that he didn’t have any of his own clothes it showed. He had a uniform, given to him by the Garrison when he’d returned, but it remained folded in the newly issued duffel bag until he needed to go back to base.

He left the small bathroom, wincing as he felt the age of the stairs under his weight on the way down. They would definitely hold him but they still felt rickety in spots, and after all he’d been through the last thing he needed was to break his neck falling down the stairs.

The house was mostly empty, but clean. The faded walls were wiped down regularly and there wasn’t a speck of dust to be seen, and the few pieces of furniture were taken care of. Shiro passed through what had once been a sitting room, now filled with communications equipment. He stopped to look at a pair of monitors, one showing radar readings for the area and another displaying the slow, steady readouts of the many probes buried out in the ground around the property.

The lights in here were dim, meant to help keep the small house hidden from night fliers. Shiro made his way carefully through, out the back door into the warm night, leaning against the worn railing of the old back porch. The sky was clear above, the stars sparkling like a sea of diamonds, and the horizon was lit by the orange glow of the Garrison’s particle barrier in the distance.

Between here and there was open desert plain, he could see the destroyed ruins of the city to the east of the base. He knew there were other small houses out there, secret human communications stations like this one, but by design they would be impossible to pick out in the night.

This was a world that had become accustomed to Galra occupation, where life had begun to continue around the trespassers in its own way. They had become such a fixture on this planet that the men and women who manned these stations did so with very little fear, long-since adjusted to the patterns of their oppressors.

He heard the sound of a vehicle approaching, and not one of the Garrison’s. This was an older style car, and as he leaned out over the railing he thought he could make out what might be a Jeep. The back door opened then, and Curtis joined him on the porch. He was dressed similarly to Shiro, in fatigues and a dark tank top instead of his usual officer’s uniform.

Curtis had been the one to invite Shiro to join him on recon tonight. Tomorrow the Paladins would be attempting to summon their Lions and would be attacking the six known Galra bases, this would be the last quiet night on Earth one way or another. They were gathering atmospheric data and monitoring both enemy and any local human chatter, and Shiro had been under the impression it was only two soldiers per comm station at a time.

“Do you have a guest?” Shiro asked, pushing away from the railing and turning to Curtis. He knew there were still people out here, the Galra tended to flock to the cities they’d overthrown and avoid the less domesticated areas. Every now and then they swept the outer areas to try and capture a few more, but for the most part these unorganized outliers were more trouble than they were worth.

“Am I interrupting some regularly scheduled conjugal visit?”

“Not quite,” Curtis grinned, climbing carefully over the porch railing and dropping down onto the dusty ground below. “Visitor, yes. For me, no.”

Shiro didn’t know what that meant. He moved down to the far end of the porch, following Curtis, watching curiously as he flagged down the oncoming Jeep.

“Sometimes, soldiers who go missing in the line of duty get found when we liberate work camps,” Curtis said, moving out of the way as the Jeep turned onto the narrow, dusty road to reach the house. “Every now and then, one of them decides that since their tour of duty is up they’d rather just disappear instead of coming back to the base.”

The Jeep came to a stop about ten yards away. Shiro could see the shadowy outline of the driver climbing out, but he didn’t know who would go out of their way to retire in obscurity only to return on the evening when the fighting was really about to get started.

It only clicked a split second before the new arrival came around the Jeep and became visible in the starlight. Even in the night, even after several years and with only the barest sliver of a moon in the sky, Shiro recognized his face. It was the same face he’d woken up next to on so many content mornings, and the same face he had mourned recently on a memorial wall of the dead.

There was a jagged scar running down the right side of his face, but other than that and a few new laugh lines he was the same. The only real difference was that he wore jeans and a light jacket instead of anything even remotely resembling military attire.

Shiro was jumping the porch railing before he even knew what he was doing, closing the distance and throwing his arms around the slightly smaller body. The surprised laugh that rang out when he lifted Adam clear off his feet was like music, the arms that embraced him tightly back felt like coming home.

“They said you were dead.” It was like Shiro’s tongue had stopped working, like his throat didn’t want to let any words make their way past his lips. “They said your plane crashed, I saw your picture on the memorial.”

“Yeah, well, they said you died in a crash too,” Adam answered. Shiro felt a kiss on his temple, such a tiny, simple gesture that brought with it a huge wave of happiness. “You’re breaking my ribs.”

“Sorry! Sorry,” Shiro lowered Adam to his feet, putting his hands on the other man’s shoulders and shoving him back so he could get a good look at him. Thinner than he had once been and much more scarred than at first glance, but otherwise in one piece. Healthy, whole, and as beautiful as ever. “Where were you? Why aren’t you at the base where it’s safe?”

Adam pursed his lips and turned his gaze past him at Curtis, who shrugged slightly.

“I didn’t tell him anything. I’m going inside, though, and you guys should soon too. They’ll have an hourly fly-by soon.”

He disappeared inside, leaving them alone. Shiro turned his attention back to Adam, who looked almost guilty.

“My plane went down in the first attack, but I ejected. I got picked up in a sweep of the area and stuck in a work camp, until the military raided it. I ran into Curtis before any other soldiers that knew me, he told me Sam Holt warned Sanda what would happen but that she sent us out anyway.”

He hesitated, rubbing one arm, and Shiro imagined there was probably more scarring under the fabric there.

“My tour was up by then and I didn’t owe them anything. And I didn’t think I could serve under her. So I just left…there’s a small colony out in the cliff caves, the Galra don’t go out there. I grow plants and teach kids, and engineers are always useful when you’re rebuilding civilization. It’s kind of nice, if you can ignore the bloodthirsty aliens everywhere.”

“They had you in a work camp,” Shiro repeated, feeling a flood of concern. His eyes traced over the scars again, wondering how many had been from a rough ejection landing and how many had come at the hands of Galra overseers. “How long?”

“A couple months,” Adam said it almost absently, as if it weren’t important. His attention was on Shiro’s arm, he started lifting it and twisting it to look at it with a mix between an engineer’s curiosity and a loved one’s worry. “Your arm…your hair…what happened to you?”

“It’s…a long story,” Shiro looked from his arm up to the sky, remembering the threat of hourly Galra flyovers. “We should go inside and talk there.”

He hesitated, then held out his good hand. He and Adam had parted on unhappy terms but not angry ones, two people who loved each other but were being pulled in opposite directions by circumstance. There was a very good chance this entire planet could be wiped out tomorrow if things went wrong, Shiro did not want to waste what might be his last chance to say all the things the memorial wall had made him realize he should have said.

Adam hesitated for a moment as well, and Shiro could read on his face that it was for similar reasons. His hand was warm when he did reach out to take Shiro’s, their fingers lacing together as they headed into the house. There was a lot for both to say, and it was going to be a long night.

* * * * * * * * * *

Three years later

The sun was setting when Shiro finally left the Garrison, extracting himself from the celebrations more than six long hours after the Atlas had made berth. The end of the war had come with the defeat of Honerva, and although Allura had her hands full with a colony of confused and betrayed Alteans, the obstacles the Coalition faced were much smaller.

The Blade of Marmora had rebuilt itself over the last few years and wrestled power from the imperialists, and the more violent of the Galra had been reduced to pirates at the edges of civilized space. There was work yet to be done but the majority of Galra civilians were in favor of peace, and were not violent and bloodthirsty like the regime that had ruled them for so long.

Planets of the Voltron Coalition were beginning to form what they were calling the Galaxy Alliance, and peoples who had so far been only military allies were becoming political and social ones as well. The seat of the Galaxy Alliance was slated to be founded on Arus, where the Arusians not only welcomed the return of Princess Allura but actively offered to share their planet as a new home for the lost people of Altea.

The Atlas’ deployment as the Coalition’s main warship was finally over. The long, exhausting campaign against the last vestiges of Zarkon’s empire had come to an end, and the ship had finally come home.

Shiro drove past houses that hadn’t been here three years ago, past a new mall that was under construction and along the winding road that was now spotted with driveways. He saw fenced-in yards with children’s toys on the lawns, a group of teenagers standing outside one house laughing, a couple pushing a baby coach and walking their dog.

There were still ruins, not everything had been rebuilt, but three years ago this had been nothing. Now he saw life.

And, as he pulled to a stop and parked in front of a familiar old house, in the distance he saw the ships.

The Atlas was easy to see from her size alone, but her two smaller sisters were visible as well. Built for speed and power, they had proven necessary when some of the Galra imperialists had attempted to retake Earth in the Atlas’ absence. The planet had not been untouched by the continuing war, but it had been far better defended than it had been in the days of Sendak’s invasion.

The Eris and the Nemesis, chaos and retribution, glinted elegantly in the dying rays of sunset. The fact that there was no Jeep parked outside of the house already meant that the head engineer of the Eris was still on duty.

Shiro leaned back against the car to take in the few for a few more minutes, the vision of a world that could finally be at peace. The fingers of his prosthetic hand toyed with the gold ring settled on the fourth finger of his good one, scratched and dented from his tendency to constantly play with it.

It was his reminder, in those stressful or lonely moments, of what he was fighting for. Of what was waiting for him back at home.

There had been no honeymoon, not even a wedding night. Just their last minute decision to make it official only a few hours before the Atlas had been scheduled to launch. Three years of contact only through long distance messages and video chats, but to Shiro it made no difference. He got to wake up each morning with the knowledge that Adam was alive, and that he was waiting for him to come home.

The front porch was far more solid when Shiro finally went inside, finding the spare key tucked up on top of the door frame. The porch stairs and railing had been replaced and several of the floorboards were new, and all of the wood was newly sanded in preparation to be stained. The communications equipment was gone when he stepped inside, the windows now framed with curtains instead of boarded up to keep outsiders from seeing any light.

The air smelled faintly of sawdust and paint as he moved through the small house, out of the living room and into the kitchen. This room was finished, probably the first one Adam had tackled, cheerful yellow walls and white cabinets and counters that made it bright and welcoming even now as night fell.

The stairs didn’t creak as he went up them, taking a look at the two small bedrooms up here. One was filled with tools and building equipment, a pile of two-by-fours and a stack of drywall against the wall. There were cans of paint and varnish, drop cloths, and a table saw ready for action.

The second bedroom was finished. Unlike the kitchen this one was far more calming, carpeted to quiet the noise and with light dampening curtains to let occupants sleep in. The furniture had clearly been bought used, there was no way the elegant old style could have been found new anywhere, but painstakingly refinished and restored to its original glory.

Shiro looked in the drawers of the bureau out of curiosity and couldn’t help but smile. The left ones, which had always been his when they’d lived together, were stocked with clothes. They all still had tags, only recently bought with the homecoming of the Atlas in mind. He went through them and pulled out some jeans and a t-shirt.

The bathroom had been made slightly bigger and updated. The shower he took was far more luxurious than the last time he had been here, a plush, soft shower mat waiting for him to step out and a new medicine cabinet that showed him his reflection.

Somehow, at almost thirty, he looked much less tired and far more happy than he had three years ago in the cracked, foggy old mirror.

Shiro noticed the new banister on his way down the stairs, and the fact that the treads had all been replaced and no longer sagged in their middle. The whole house was a work in progress but to be honest, he was glad it wasn’t finished. He looked forward to putting some work into it, to adding his own touches and helping make it what they wanted it to be.

He could hear music when he reached the first floor and padded along through the house, following it to the back door. He stepped out onto a finished back porch, slightly larger than it had originally been and now with actual stairs to go down instead of having to jump the railing. They led out to a yard that was now fenced in, where he could see that decent soil had been put out in preparation to start landscaping.

It was lit by the stars above, and by the warm glow of the string lights that ran along the porch ceiling. To his right, where there had originally been nothing, there was a hanging swing bench with two little end tables, occupied by a tired engineer who had kicked off his boots but was otherwise still in uniform.

Adam was sagged down on the bench, arms resting across his stomach, with one foot resting on an end table and lazily swinging himself with the other. He had an open beer in one hand and his glasses pushed up into his hair. He gave a smile, tired and maybe not as bright as it might have been earlier in the day, but it lit up Shiro’s entire world.

“You’re two days early,” Adam complained. “I was still on assignment out of state.”

“I was in a bit of a hurry to get here,” Shiro smiled. “I had some things on my schedule.”

“Oh?” One eyebrow quirked up a bit, the corner of Adam’s mouth curving up teasingly. “Hot date, maybe?”

“Man, I sure hope so.”

Adam finally gave in, setting down his beer and getting up. Shiro expected him to come in for a hug but instead Adam reached up to cup his face, thumbs running lightly across his cheeks, then pulled him in for slow, deep kiss.

It left him breathless and giddy, his stomach fluttering and his chest feeling as if it might burst. There was so little in his life that made him really happy and he sometimes forgot what it felt like, until moments like this brought the feeling crashing over him again.

When they parted it was only for Adam to pull back slightly, leaning his body into him instead. Shiro wrapped his arms around him and held him close, feeling almost dizzy as Adam rested his head on his shoulder. They fit together so perfectly.

“Welcome home. How long do we have?”

How long. Adam meant how long until his next deployment, how long until he was taken away again on some other long-term duties. No complaints about him being gone for three years, no  demands that he stay. This was the reality that he’d been too proud to consider so many years ago, that Adam leaving him had never been about wanting to be chosen over Kerberos. It had always been about Shiro’s health, it had always been about trying to keep him alive, it had never been about not understanding his ambitions or wanting to hold him back.

Here they were, about a decade later and potentially in the same position, and all Adam wanted to know was how long they had before Shiro left again. But this was something Shiro had already thought about in recent days, long and hard.

“I was thinking that maybe it’s time to transfer to a smaller ship,” Shiro said slowly, lightly rubbing Adam’s back. “Spend a little while helping secure trade routes and help set up the Alteans on Arus. Something that would only take me off planet for a few days at a time.”

Adam pulled away to regard him with a frown, and Shiro thought he looked painfully lovely. His glasses were still shoved up into his hair and he was barefoot, his uniform jacket tossed off on the swing leaving him in a t-shirt that showed off a body full of vivid scars.

“You love leading the Atlas. Exploration and pushing boundaries, that’s your thing. You won’t be happy playing security guard for supply ships.”

“I don’t know, I think it could grow on me,” Shiro answered, looking up at the sky. The stars were out, constellations he could name off by heart and find his way by, safe and familiar. “I’ve done everything I ever really wanted to do. And now I’ve been a Voltron Paladin, Captained the first space-worthy Earth warship, and led the victory in a ten-thousand-year-old, universe-wide war.

“All before I was thirty. Now I’ve broken every record there is to break, I think I can take a rest.”

Adam didn’t say anything. Shiro wondered if he’d said something wrong, and when he looked back down from the sky he was startled to see the other man’s expression. Adam looked like he was trying not to cry.

Shiro didn’t have to ask why as he pulled him back into another hug, holding him tightly while he tried to fight back tears. Adam had been through a lot in his life, he’d spent a good portion of young adulthood helping care for a sick boyfriend then lost him to a universal war; he’d fought in an invasion he’d failed to hold back and nearly died, had been held in a Galra work camp, and had watched their home planet burn firsthand.

Takashi, how important am I to you?

That was the question that had played in Shiro’s head over the last few days, over and over again. It had been asked almost ten years ago and it was only now that Shiro found he really had an answer.

More important than anything else should have been the reply. Life hadn’t been that simple back then, but it certainly was now.

The radio had gone to a commercial while they’d been standing there, but now it went back to music. Shiro didn’t know the song, but he started moving slowly to it, pulling Adam along. The night was warm, a soft breeze stirring the leaves of the potted plants hanging over the porch railing. The curtains were closed in the kitchen, leaving the glow of the string lights the only light for him to see by.

He had never thought they’d be here when he was younger. Shiro had expected to die young, and after Kerberos he’d never thought he’d get back to Earth. When he’d arrived and found Adam’s picture on the memorial wall, he had known it was really over.

But here they were, both back from the dead. Two people who had defied the universe’s efforts to put them in their graves, and made their way back to each other out of sheer spite.

They were tired. They were still hurting. They both deserved a chance to finally settle down and rest, together.

[reds-skull]

BLOOD||HUNGER

[PREV PART] [AO3]

So I wrote both this and the oneshot on the strike week, just had to add the quotes and polish them a bit before posting :)

This chapter's name is "Wont of Devils"

[Wont means habit, didn't know that before looking it up]

Page 15 of the “Blooede Starvatfōre-dēde”, parable 6:

What shall I call you, the Blind Man once asks,

A Beast is all I know, the creature answers,

Yet the man urges, heart yet sated,

It is but what people past have named you,

A Beast is all I know, the monster answers,

The Blind Man quiets, so a Beast speaks,

I shall name you anew, not with words,

But with deeds,

How would one do so, the Beast queries,

The Blind Man finds his answer,

With terrible mercy,

With ferocious will,

To not stand on a path paved, but to carve,

Mark yourself with actions yet to come.

Yet again, Soap rejects the easy way out. He can feel Ghost’s gaze prickle his nape. 

He wonders, what the soldier thinks of him now. Ghost agreed with his past actions, in a way not many did… and when he told him of Price and Lieutenant Riley, Soap could swear he saw something different in his eyes…

Almost like a light ignited behind them.

Soap turns around to look at Ghost. Somehow, he can still see some of that light, muted within his dark brown eyes. He shakes away those thoughts - he’s not here to befriend the criminal. They have a job to do.

“We should move. Not gonna find anyone to grab around here.” he moves past Ghost, and past his damn absorbing eyes. He hears the man trail him.

Soap steps around the many corpses Ghost left behind (all with one clean slit in their throat - efficiently and expertly killed), “what intel do you have on the Hunter?”

Ghost lets out a huff, “practically nothing. They’re more thorough than me, don’t think anyone alive has seen their face.”

“Nationality?”

Ghost shakes his head, “unknown. Never talked to me, had a communicator relay information for them.”

“A communicator… think they’re the ones on comms as well?”

“Know they are.” Ghost murmurs, “recognized their voice. They were there when the fucker poisoned me.”

Soap watches Ghost’s leg shaking again, sees how his arm loosens its grip on his knife. “Most of the soldiers runnin’ around here won’t know where the commander is, most likely. But I bet the communicator would…”

The radios of multiple dead soldiers crackle up, a tinny voice demanding a status report. Soap is struck by an idea, and leans down to unclasp the comms from one body.

“-have you located the Brits?”

“Affirmative.” Soap grunts, donning on a more American accent, half smirking when Ghost’s head whips around to stare at him, “one soldier, unconscious. Should we bring ‘em to you, sir?”

The communicator instantly replies, “unconscious? If you haven’t roughed him up too much, get him to the abandoned water tower over east. I’ll deal with him personally.”

Soap smiles, answering easily, “copy that, sir.”, and clicking off the radio.

Ghost’s eyes are slightly wider than usual, and Soap takes it as a win that he managed to take the man by surprise, “well? What are ye waitin’ fer? Let’s get teh the water tower.” he lets out with a heavy Scottish accent.

The Brit shakes his head, huffing an almost-laugh, “after you, Sergeant.”

Something odd bubbles up Soap’s chest, while he and Ghost make their way to a vehicle. He never cared much for the approval of his COs, something that was probably detrimental to his career in the end, but…

He doesn’t finish the thought. Despite how, over the day, he started seeing the man hiding behind the skull mask, that man still betrayed him. Ghost is an enemy of the 141, not someone to be trusted.

Soap had seen men do unspeakable things in the past. You don’t need to be a monster to be evil.

The drive to the water tower is quiet. Soap occasionally glances at Ghost, watching his limbs spasm every once in a while. Ghost catches him, and from then on tries to suppress his muscles, which only makes the rest of his body shake with exertion.

Soap thrums his fingers on the steering wheel, brows furrowed. He’s not been trained on interrogation tactics since his unit was forced on a course for that, and even that knowledge was rusty before he got discharged. He opens his mouth to ask Ghost about it when the man beats him to it.

“I needed to go to the doctor for my inability to navigate roads.” he mutters through clenched teeth.

Soap tilts his head, “...what?”

“Turns out I just needed directions.”

Was that… is he…?

He groans, “not my strongest one, I know.”

Soap turns his head to stare at Ghost, “... that was the worst pun I’ve ever heard.” the fuck is he quoting dad jokes for all of a sudden??

Ghost’s eyes crescent with hidden mirth, “I’d like to hear you-shit- hear you do b’tter.” his right arm started shaking too, Soap notes. The poison is started to spread there…

Oh. He’s… distracting himself.

“...A drill Sergeant once told me, ‘I didn’t see ye at camouflage training this morning, Private.’” Soap slowly says.

Ghost hums, the shaking going from his shoulders right down to his fingertips.

Soap continues, “Ah told him ‘well, thank ye very much, sir.’”

Ghost closes his eyes behind the mask, leaning his head back on the headrest, “not bad. What do you get when you drop a piano on an army officer?”

“Tell me.”

The Brit’s leg kicks uncontrollably, “a f-flat major.”

Soap couldn’t stop his chuckle, “alright, I’ll give ye that one.”

“We could do this all day.” Ghost murmurs, the convulsing recedes and his limbs finally relax.

His brown eyes open to stare at him.

Soap averts his eyes, “that’s what I’m afraid of…”

Soap thanks every god he could name for the tinted windows their stolen truck has, making it so when a soldier passes them by, he just drives away. 

The water tower is a large, domed structure, which was once white but over the years lost most of the paint job. Soap spots a man overwatching the makeshift base underneath him. Must be their target.

He rolls the truck to a stop near the staircase, hopping out and taking cover behind a stack of crates. Ghost soundlessly joins him, surveying the area.

“Only way up is through the stairs…” Soap says half to himself. The stairs wrap around the outside of the tower, leaving whoever climbs them completely exposed for the entire way. 

Ghost grumbles, “we’ll need to look convincing only from afar.” He lowers to a tighter crouch, “get on, Soap.”

Soap blinks, “huh??”

“You told ‘em you captured an enemy. One of us needs to act as the captive, and the other needs to carry them up.” Ghost looks him up and down, “and not only you don’t look like a Hunter’s soldier, frankly I don’t think you’ll be able to carry me for that long.”

Soap tenses, wanting to argue back but finding no holes in Ghost’s argument. He steps closer to the masked man, awkwardly draping himself over his shoulders so he could lift him in a fireman carry. 

“Jus’ so ye know, I would’ve hauled ye easily.”

Ghost rises up effortlessly, and Soap feels his gloved hands securing his hands and feet, “I’m sure you would, Soap.” He starts up the stairs, “hope your acting is as good as your Yankee accent.”

“Ye ordering me to play dead?”

“No, just knocked out.”

Soap rolls his eyes, “Ah don’t have to follow ‘em, ye know-”

Ghost pulls on his boot lightly, “sleeping people don’t talk, Johnny.”

His mouth snaps shut. Soap closes his eyes, leaving him with only one thing to focus. That being Ghost, the warmth exuding from him, the hold he has on Soap, and his words.

He never lets people call him “Johnny”. As a kid, he found it patronizing, and as he got older the feeling only got stronger. The only ones that won’t be in danger of getting punched for it would be his family, but that doesn’t mean he likes it even from them.

After being dishonorably discharged, he had to go back to being “John”. Over the many months in the civilian world, he grew to hate that name, grew to despise being reduced to that weak, pathetic mess.

And yet, when Ghost called him that, low and gravelly, deep Manchurian accent rounding the syllables…

Soap would have to lie to himself to say he truly hated that.

Ghost leans him against a wall when they reach the top, motioning him to stay still while a soldier comes to question them. The Brit waits until the unsuspecting soldier rounds the corner, and in a flash slices his throat and catches his falling body. He drops the dead man off (with much less care than he gave to Soap), and inspects the walkway ahead.

“Clear. Rise and shine, Soap.” 

Soap doesn’t get up instantly, opting to search the body and take a few garments. Specifically, the bulletproof vest marked with the Hunter’s blood-red insignia of a skull, and the black face mask covering the soldier’s nose and mouth.

Ghost nods in approval, cleaning the bloody knife off on his pants and tucking it back in place. They both lower to sneak quietly towards the front of the water tower, where a small control room is built up against the dome.

The walkway is dead silent, and Ghost grabs the handle, lifts a hand to motion Soap to be ready on 3, and slams the door open.

The communicator inside startles, hand reaching for his weapon. Soap rushes forward, tackling the man before he could lay a finger on the metal.

“Who the fuck-” the communicator snarls, before his eyes widen so much Soap fears they’ll pop out of his skull. Ghost slinks out of the shadows, a blade twirling in his hand.

The man underneath him trembles in panic, “Ghost…”

The Brit looks down at him, “tie ‘im up.”

Soap grabs the radio off the man’s shoulder, letting it clatter to the floor, and yanks him up to the office chair besides the desk. He finds zip ties scattered among the gear on the table, and makes quick work of securing the communicator to the chair. The man struggles, but Soap roughly binds his arms and legs to the chair.

Ghost shuts the door, slowly stepping closer to the communicator, “we need the location of the Hunter. You are going to give it to us.”

The man spits, “fuck you. You can go shove your damn knife up your-”

Ghost stops his rambling by taking his jaw and shutting it, “I said”, he drags the knife down his throat, “you’re going to give it to us…” he presses the blade to the pale skin, letting beads of blood roll down the man’s neck, “by force, if necessary.”

The communicator tries to back away from Ghost, but Soap takes his shoulders and straightens him.

He lets himself soak in the anger and fury that fuelled him for the past several days. This man, along with the Hunter, are the ones responsible for the destruction that befell on the city. They’re the creators of orphans, the destroyers of homes, the instigators of unjust pain.

Soap growls at the communicator’s ear, “we killed the guard. No one will hear you scream from up ‘ere. I suggest you start talkin’.”

The man doesn’t look at him, his stare pinned on Ghost’s knife, now shining with deep red blood. Soap thinks the communicator’s voice is far less confident than he wants it to be when he snarls, “I don’t know where they are!”

Soap pushes his nape to face him, “bullshite.”

The man’s eyes flicker between his, confusion overtaking his dread for a moment, “who the fuck are you?!”

“He’s with me.” Ghost grounds, pressing the tip of the blade to the man’s groin, “and you better stop asking questions and start giving answers, otherwise I might decide to not leave you with a working pair.”

The chair rattles with the force of the communicator’s struggling, “I don’t know! I don’t know-!”

Ghost slides the knife off the man, only to sink it into his thigh. The communicator opens his mouth to shout, but Soap clasps a hand over it to silence it.

“Wrong answer, mate.” Ghost’s voice lacks any of the deep roundness it had when he was calling him ‘Johnny’. Instead, it is sharp and cold, so much so that even Soap has to suppress a shiver.

The knife is pulled out of the flesh, a dripping sound joining the muffled screams of pain. Ghost moves the knife up, positioning it over the man’s shoulder.

“Where is your commander hiding?”

Soap feels the communicator’s head shaking, his eyes squeezed shut.

Ghost doesn’t bat an eye, driving the knife slowly into his shoulder.

Soap has to bite his tongue at the sounds the communicator makes. He has interrogated before, seen a lot worse than this, but the way Ghost looks almost disinterested, completely unaffected by the man, emotionless and methodical…

He doesn’t remind him of a beast, or a monster, at this moment.

No, Ghost is a weapon. A serrated edge, a rusted knife.

A cruel blade.

“Stop!!! Please stop!!!!!”

Ghost wipes his blade on the man’s ruined shirt, “all you have to do is answer. You decide when it stops.”

The communicator gasps for air, tear tracks and snot running down his blotchy face, “I can’t! They’ll kill me, m-my family!!!”

Ghost slashes his chest again, ignoring the man’s pleas.

This is taking too long. Soap has moved to the door, keeping watch over the stairs for any investigating soldiers. So far, the coast has been clear, but they’re not exactly working with unlimited time here.

“You’ll die either way.” Ghost says apathetically, “you can die quick, or I can keep chipping away at you. And believe me.” Ghost flicks some blood off to the marred floor, “I know how to keep you alive to feel it all.”

“Please-!!!”

Ghost lifts his hand to swing at the communicator again, when his arm seizes up. Soap hears the knife clatter to the ground, Ghost soon following.

“Hrgh… fuck…” the Brit growls, his limbs convulsing uncontrollably. Soap crouches down to help him when he hears a wheezing laugh.

The communicator, tears still in his eyes, heaves a gurgling chuckle, “I almost started worrying you were immune to it.” he says between laughter, “the Ghost, brought to his knees. How I wish the Hunter was here to see this!”

“I’ll still fuckin’- fucking hell…” Ghost’s jaw is clenched, the words barely getting out. Soap drags him up to lean against a wall.

He’s fed up with the communicator’s laughter quickly enough, and stomps over to grab him by his short hair and pull his gleeful face towards him.

“I think ye forget I’m still here, you bastard. Tell us where yer boss is!”

The man winces at Soap’s handling, but his eyes are still curved in mirth, “why do you care?” he asks with a smile, “do you even know who’s your partner over there?”

Soap feels his anger overflowing, “I care because you’re here, massacring innocent people like they’re fuckin’ animals! Where the fuck is the Hunter?!”

“We did it to frame him”, the man nods to Ghost’s shaking form, “someone needed to take the Ghost down.”

…What? Some part of Soap shouts that it doesn’t matter. Another tells him he shouldn’t care what Ghost has done to warrant that.

A third, loud voice, commends him to dig further.

“Why?” Soap asks lowly, and Ghost groans behind him, clothes rustling as he tries to get up.

The communicator barks a short laugh, “why?! He’s a fuckin’ merc, buddy! Doesn’t care who pays, as long as they pay good! Do you know how many politicians this guy killed?! High ranking officers?!! He could topple countries, He survived the worst of the worst, cheated death himself!”

Ghost’s movements stop.

The communicator’s mouth curls into a sharp smile, “didn’t you, Simon Riley?”

Soap takes a step back, eyes wide in shock. That’s- Ghost is-?!

A knife wheezes past him, barely missing his ear before burying into the communicator’s right eye. The man’s cheerful expression lasts for a second longer, before his features slack and his head hangs down, lifeless.

Soap stares at the corpse, breath halted. He turns around slowly, stare sliding over Ghost’s extended arm.

“What… the fuck… did you do?”

Simon’s eyes don’t meet his.

Page 19 of the  “Blooede Starvatfōre-dēde”, parable 7:

There are many Beasts, who roam the blessed land,

Many creatures who one, who wishes for his fellow men well,

Must slay with no remorse.

It is why a hunter, a man such as myself,

Must take a heavy blade, and bury it within the monster.

Yet you, Blind Man,

You protect this evil?

The Blind Man answers, this is no beast,

No more twisted than me, no more different to his fellow men than me.

Very well, the hunter does not falter,

This path seems to only harbor beasts,

And therefore I shall slaughter you both.

[usagichuu]

university!dan heng x reader oneshot

a/n: a continuation of the university!dan heng headcanons! it’s been a while since ive properly written so please bear w me, not proofread so also plz bear w me

genre: sfw, first kiss, gn reader

notes: i actually do a lot of archival research in uni irl and hence this scenario has crossed my mind many times but for context for those who haven’t been around uni libraries before: to maximize space many libraries will have their shelves packed together in one huge block of shelves, so you can’t actually access the shelves by walking between them. in order for you to access the shelf you’re looking for you need to turn a wheel on the corresponding shelf to push the adjacent shelves aside and open up a pathway for you to walk between the shelves (does this even make any sense?). but you need to be careful! because if you aren’t paying attention, someone in another row may be trying to get a book and when you open up yours you might squish them :( anyways! context so this makes sense.

It’d been a few weeks into the semester since you first met him at the library, since those steely gray eyes that peered over at you from the front desk seemed to puncture right through your defences. It’s funny how one day of forgetting your laptop charger could turn into a new daily routine of dropping by the library, requesting to rent one just so you could be struck again. Charger rentals quickly turned to him asking you about the books you’re reading to chats about classes. Then one day he started leaving you cups of tea on your desk for your late night sessions - and always when you have your head down for a power nap so you can’t ever thank him. But the teabag in your cups are always the same brand as the ones you see dangling from his thermos, though he will always deny it.

Today you actually did need his help, though. You were looking for a specific book that was not in the regular library shelves, and needed someone to guide you through the labyrinth that was the archives. Luckily for you, Dan Heng seemed to know them like the back of his hand.

“Sorry to take you away from your job like this.”

“I work at the library help desk. You are asking for my help,” he says matter-of-factly, “This is quite literally my job.”

The archive stacks lay out before the two of you, with stacks on stacks of shelves stretched out for what must be all the way from East to West campus. With the archives located in the library’s underground level, it was entirely plausible. The archives room was lit by large fluorescent panels on the ceilings, which seemed to hang low compared to the tall shelves. It was crazy how in a room that loomed this large, they still had to stack the shelves together to accommodate all of them. Each shelf had a great big wheel on its side, which you knew you had to turn to roll the adjacent shelves aside, allowing you passage to the shelf of your choice. With the smell of finely aging books curling yellow with the years wafting through the room and these great big contraptions of shelves, being down here almost felt otherworldly. You looked to Dan Heng - how long must someone spend down here to sift through the shelf labels as algorithmically as he did?

“May I?” Snapping out of your awe, you found him holding his hand out to you, expectantly. Wait - what?

“Huh?”

“Your phone. I forgot the call number.”

Oh. You hand your phone over. This deep into the archives, with the fortress of shelf stacks in front and behind you, the ceiling lights could only reach so far. So when he opened your phone, the light of the screen gently illuminated his face.

“Interesting background.”

“Don’t you have a job to do?”

“Friendly banter is an effective way to make a friendly atmosphere between library staff and visitors.

“I didn’t take you for the bantering type.”

Just before you swear you could detect an almost imperceptible smile. But just as quickly as it came, the light of your phone was snuffed out.

“Here it is,” he set both hands firmly on the wheel, turning and rolling what must have been eight stacks of shelves aside, which gave way with a creak and the crackle of plastic-wrapped books. A space opened up between your two target shelves, just wide enough for one of you at a time to pass through.

“Looks cozy,” you say, taking a step inside. But you knew this was the farthest right he could push the shelves, and you didn’t want to trouble him to push aside any more. “Let’s go find that book.”

You two work silently, scanning the bookshelves row by row: you on one side and him on the other, meeting in the middle. You would be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little flustered when you two bumped shoulders as you finished the first row, him just silently turning to you, shaking his head. It’s not on this one. And then you two proceeded to the next row.

You went on like this for a little bit, occasionally accidentally brushing hands as you two closely watched the book spines, only for you to hurriedly draw your hand away. But row by row, shelf by shelf, he started to move his hand to yours first, your hands lingering, skin to skin, for just a moment as you both pretended to be carefully observing the last book. Never daring to look the other in the eye lest either one betrays the look on their face. First a brush of the knuckles, them the backs of your fingers, then-

The shelves began to close together with a heavy groan. They must have been so quiet, else must not have realized you two were there, and began to close up the stacks, and they were closing in quickly.

Dan Heng immediately put himself between you and the incoming shelf, bracing himself on the shelf behind you. “Excuse me!” He shouts to the stranger, and the shelves ceased.

The stranger called back. “Sorry! I’ll be done in a sec!”

The momentary shock settling down, you realized the position you were in: the two of you, pressed dangerously close together, Dan Heng with one arm above you to steady himself on the shelf behind you, looking down at you. Your faces were so close as you turned your head up to look at him, you felt a lock of his hair brush your forehead.

“Are you alright?”

You open your mouth to say something, when you realize that with his body pressed to yours he could feel your heart beating wildly in your chest - and was that his thrumming in response? Must the adrenaline from saving you from the shelves be getting him this worked up? Why was your own heart still fluttering if the threat is over? And… Why did your face feel so warm?

“I’m…” You look into his eyes for the first time since you two entered the shelves - he’s handsome. Devastatingly handsome. The faint ceiling lights cut through the shelves, offering a window of light for you to look at him, him to look at you.

“Sorry… Is this too close?”

You shake your head. “No, it’s… It’s fine…”

Your eyes wandered - could he see where they were looking? Down his face to his lips, and you tried to focus on something - anything - to distract you but all that was before you was him, his eyes gray like winter above you, his heart thumping through his jacket and against your chest, and his lips, god, his lips.

You two stand in silence as you try to peel your eyes away from him. But then he gently puts his free hand under your chin, tipping it back up to look at him. You can’t hide it now - you cheeks flushed pink, the way you’re looking at him. Your foreheads are touching now, his eyes searching yours as his gentle breath fans across your face, a few locks of hair on your cheek stirring. You quietly whisper.

“Is teasing me also part of your job description?”

A flutter of his eyelashes. Yours closing in response. Your hearts, drumming up courage in you both as he lowers his face and you bring yours up to meet his.

And then the gentlest, gentlest of kisses. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, and his hand under your chin drops to your waist in response, drawing you near. His kisses are long and drawn out, then punctuated: short, sweet like haiku syllables, playing out on your lips, writing you to life.

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

a/n: thanks for reading yahoo!

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