#the pride of creeping shadows

[womaninwinter]

[lowkeyren]

—trick or... tricked?

in which : you save a strikingly handsome vampire, not knowing he would get attached to you in more ways than one.

pairing : aventurine x gn!reader

wc 1.5k, vampire aventurine in celebration of spooky month, lots of flirting (re: dialogue), reader implied to be shorter than him, ofc he bets lol, art by @/shizuart, reblogs r much appreciated!! enjoy <3

for @stellaronhvnters ongoing event; the prompt i ended up w was vampire ^^ @staarri sighs i miss writing for aventurine.

you have no idea why aventurine has taken such a keen interest in you. 

all you did was help a poor vampire in need. you saw him slumped against the cold stone of an alley one night, weakened and vulnerable; his pristine clothes torn and his blond hair dishevelled. 

you stepped closer despite the little voice in your head telling you to mind your own business. vampires weren’t known for displaying vulnerability so openly, yet there he was —barely holding on, his gaze hazy as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

out of some misplaced sense of duty—or perhaps it was pity—you knelt beside him, offering your help. at first, he brushed you off, pride keeping him from accepting anything. but as the blood from his gashes continued to seep through his clothes and his breathing grew more laboured, he had no choice but to relent.

tearing a piece of your sleeve off to use as a bandage, you quickly tended to his wounds. he’s surprisingly compliant, letting you clean the gashes without complaint, except for the occasional groan whenever you applied the antiseptic.

rummaging through your bag, you pulled out a bottle of water and pressed it against his lips, watching as he gulped down the liquid eagerly. his eyes flickered with relief as the cool water met his dry mouth; and you noticed the way his shoulders relaxed, the tension visibly easing from his body. 

after making sure he was somewhat stable, you stood up to leave. though you didn’t expect him to thank you, and you certainly didn’t expect him to latch on to you like this.

you take it back.

maybe you shouldn’t have helped him. who would have known he would become so… attached? 

you have tried everything. changing your routine, leaving town, even staying inside for days at a time, but none of it worked. he lurks in the shadows, leaning against a wall as you pass by, catching your gaze across a crowded room with an infuriating smirk.

you hoped, prayed even, that your indifference would drive him off. that maybe, if you didn’t acknowledge him, he’d lose interest, move on to someone else. 

though you couldn’t be more far from wrong. 

("aventurine, why are you always here?"

his eyes flicks down lazily to meet yours, a hint of surprise in them. slowly, he set his cup down and smiles.

"why sweetheart," his voice is smooth, amused. "i’m just enjoying the view.")

he’s patient, maddeningly so, with a persistence that makes it hard to ignore him.

you catch glimpses of him out of the corner of your eye —a flash of pale skin, a figure too still in the crowd, but every time you turn to face him, he’s gone, only to reappear moments later, closer than before.

how frustrating. 

“i know you’re there, aventurine.”

a moment passes, then he steps into view, a relaxed smile on his lips that stirs something within you. “you’re quite observant tonight,” he replies, a teasing lilt in his voice. “i was beginning to think you preferred to ignore me.”

you cross your arms, “i don’t prefer anything about this situation, you keep showing up uninvited,” you retort, yet your heart betrays you, fluttering at the way he leans closer, the scent of him intoxicating.

“uninvited, sure. but unwanted? i'm not so sure about that." he chuckles softly, his voice like velvet, eyes gleaming as they meet yours. “i think,” a sly grin tugs at his lips, his fangs just barely visible beneath them, “you're more intrigued by me than you’d like to admit.”

the roll of your eyes does little to hide the faint blush creeping up your neck. “yeah yeah whatever,” you mutter, glancing away to regain your composure, but even the sun rising on the horizon seems to pale in comparison to the heat radiating from your cheeks.

“i’ll catch you later tonight, sweetheart.” he calls over his shoulder as he disappears into the early morning light, “try not to miss me too much while the sun’s still out.”

you quickened your pace, weaving through the streets, desperate to put distance between you and that haunting smirk. but the faster you move, the closer aventurine seems to get, his footsteps silent but ever-present. 

“not now, aventurine,” the words came out sharper than you intended. “i’m running late for my date,” your breath hitching from the strain of trying to outrun him. 

“a date, huh? is that what you call it?” he pushes himself off a nearby post, “and here i'm starting to think you enjoy my company."

"enjoy? not even close." you shoot a glare at him over your shoulder, before quickening your pace again. “why do you even care anyway?”

“because i do,” he replies simply, you can feel his gaze boring into your back. “you helped me when no one else would. it’s only fair i return the favour.”

you stop short, your heart racing in a way that has nothing to do with running late.

“—and you don’t seem to hate the idea of getting involved with someone like me.”

“someone like you?” you echo, incredulity spilling into your tone. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

aventurine shrugs, his presence still lingering close behind you. “vampires don’t exactly have the best track record, you know. most people would steer clear of me.”

you raise an eyebrow, “and yet, here you are, shadowing me like a lost puppy. so, what do you really want?”

he straightens up, the glimmer in his eyes brightening. “i was wondering how long it’d take for you to ask." he saunters closer, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face, his cold fingers lingering near your cheek. 

“let’s make a deal.”

“a deal?”

"a bet, if you will," he corrects himself, his voice dripping with amusement. "it's simple. if you win, i’ll leave you alone, for good.” his lips quirks upward, before continuing. “but if i win, i get to taste you.”

your heart lurches at the word, dread pooling in your stomach. blood. he wants your blood, right? what else would a vampire want?

you swallow hard, thank aeons he can't see your face right now. “fine. what’s the bet?”

he leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. “let’s see how well you’ve been paying attention." you barely have time to react before his hands gently close over your eyes from behind, blocking your vision entirely.

“tell me,” his voice a low whisper, “what colour are my eyes right now?”

your pulse quickens. well, they’re usually—

“magenta and cyan,” you mutter instinctively, the words slipping out before you can even think. aventurine chuckles softly, his lips brushing dangerously close to your ear as he speaks. “wrong answer, sweetheart."

his fingers remain gently over your eyes, his cold touch pushing your already racing heart into overdrive. "then, what’s the right answer?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

“they’re red tonight,” he replies. you perk up “how am i supposed to know that! you can’t just change the colours on a whim…”

“ah ah, you lost the bet.”

taste… your throat tightens at the thought, your mind went straight to the worst-case scenario —a sharp bite that would sap your strength and leave you utterly drained. 

his body presses against your back as he tilts your chin up gently, and you meet his gaze. yes, they’re definitely red tonight —a striking shade of crimson, blood red. he looks down at you, a devilish grin spreading across his face, a smile so dangerously alluring, so handsomely wicked.

“ugh…” you shifted uneasily, though you tried to play it off as indifference. "just make it quick and painless." you turn your head slightly to the side, exposing your neck.

aventurine blinks, taken aback for a moment. "oh?" he drawls, his voice dripping with mischief. "no, no, sweetheart. i don’t want your blood."

confusion flickers across your face as you stare up at him.

"i want a kiss.”

aventurine leans against the doorway, an amused smile dancing on his lips. “looks like someone forgot about their date,” he teases, his eyes glinting with that familiar blend of magenta and cyan —such beautiful eyes with vivid hues of twilight, too mesmerising for a beguiling being. 

“never had one in the first place,” you murmur, your words holding a hint of resignation.

he tilts his head as the corners of his lips curl up. “really? then… can i be your date instead?”

you blink, caught off guard; your heart stumbles in your chest, and for a moment, you’re lost for words. you look up, meeting his gaze. there’s something different, something softer about the way he looks at you.

“a little late to be asking, don’t you think?” you manage, your voice quieter than before, the space between you feels a lot smaller than it did just moments ago.

“better late than never,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “besides,” he continues, his thumb brushing gently against your hand, “who’s to say a night with a vampire wouldn’t be better?”

you laugh lightly, “you’re too confident for your own good.” even as the words leave your mouth, there’s no real bite behind them.

he leans in, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath soft against your ear. “and yet you haven’t said no.”

MASTERLIST.

[surielstea]

Meet the Family

Based on a request.

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel takes reader to meet the Inner Circle for the first time and they take the opportunity to embarrass him.

Warnings: Mostly fluff, a little bit of angst about Azriel’s past but it’s super brief!!

A.Note: Not totally happy with this one, but I had to post it because I’ve been picking at it for like a month and I’m still not satisfied 😭😭 but I hope it’s okay for you guys nonetheless :)

2.2k words.

The River House was a vision, filled with soft music, warm laughter, and the shimmering glow of starlight spilling in through massive windows. Outside, the Sidra sparkled under the moonlight, and the first stars were just beginning to twinkle in the dark sky. The magic of Starfall hummed in the air, wrapping around me like a comforting embrace.

Azriel's hand gripped mine tightly as we walked through the grand double doors, his fingers laced firmly through mine. His posture was confident, as always, but I could feel the tension radiating from him. It wasn't nerves—not in the way most people would recognize—but I could tell he was hyper-aware of me, of this night, of the fact that this was my first real introduction to the people he considered his family.

I squeezed his hand and glanced up at him. "Relax, Az," I murmured. "I'm not going anywhere."

His lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile playing across his face. "You say that now," he replied, his voice low, "but you haven't met them yet."

I grinned. "You've told me so much about them. I already feel like I know them."

He gave me a sidelong glance, shadows curling at his shoulders as if they, too, were nervous. "We'll see if you still feel that way by the end of the night."

The energy inside the River House was infectious. Rhysand and Feyre stood near the bar, their heads tilted close as they shared a quiet laugh. Cassian's booming voice echoed across the room, punctuated by Mor's light, musical laughter. Even Amren, perched on a nearby couch, looked somewhat at ease.

Azriel didn't hesitate, guiding me straight into the fray. The first person to intercept us was Cassian, and he greeted me with the kind of enthusiasm that could knock a person over.

"So this is her," Cassian declared, his hazel eyes gleaming with mischief as he approached, his swagger entirely unmissable. He crossed his arms, towering over me, but his grin was warm and disarming. "The one who finally managed to pull Azriel out of his brooding lair. You know, we were starting to think it would never happen."

“You must be Cassian.” I smirked, undeterred by his towering frame or the teasing glint in his eyes.

Cassian’s grin grew wild. "He talks about me?" he asked, eyes glinting with adoration as he puffs out his chest with pride.

I nodded, smile twitching at my lips as I feel Azriel’s glare tightening on mine in warning. “Oh, non-stop,” I wink, leaning into my mates side.

“Oh, I like her,” Cassian said, clapping Azriel on the shoulder hard enough to make him sway slightly. "Hold onto this one."

Azriel muttered something under his breath, and I didn't miss the faint pink tinge creeping up his neck. I leaned closer to him, just enough to whisper, "I think he's testing how far he can go before you snap."

Azriel's sigh was audible as he reached for my hand, lacing his fingers through mine and pulling me toward the next room. "All right, enough," he muttered, though I caught the smallest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Don't worry," I whispered to Azriel as we walked away. "I'll try not to inflate his ego too much."

Azriel shook his head, his voice dry. "You’ve already gave him enough to go off for the rest of the month."

I laughed softly as we moved further into the house, where another figure approached. Dark hair, violet eyes, and a smile so charming it could disarm anyone. Rhysand was everything Azriel had described—and then some.

"So you're the mysterious girl we've been hearing about," Rhys said, his gaze sweeping over me with a curiosity that didn't feel intrusive. "It's about time he brought you around. Though I admit, I was beginning to think you were a myth."

"It’s not too late for us to leave," Azriel interjected before I could respond, his tone wry.

"Azriel," I chided lightly, looking back at Rhysand. "Thank you for having me. Your home is beautiful."

Rhys inclined his head, his smile widening. "That was all my mate—but please, call me Rhys. And don't let Azriel scare you off. We're all family here. Though, judging by the way he's glaring at me, I'd say you're already part of that family."

Azriel's glare darkened, but I squeezed his hand, stifling a laugh. "Is he always this angry with you and Cassian?" I teased.

"Oh, constantly," Rhys replied smoothly. "But don't let him fool you. He's just worried we'll steal you away."

"I think I can handle that," I said with a grin. "But thank you for the warning."

Before Rhys could reply, two women appeared, their energy like a whirlwind. One with golden hair and bright eyes practically bounced toward me. The other, with chestnut locks and a calm demeanor, followed close behind, a soft smile gracing her lips.

"Finally!" Mor exclaimed, pulling me into a warm hug that I quickly returned. "Another girl to help balance out all the testosterone in this group. You have no idea how long I've waited for this."

I laughed, her enthusiasm infectious. "I'll do my best to even the odds."

"She's already perfect," Mor declared, spinning to face Azriel. "Why didn't you bring her sooner? Were you hiding her from us?"

Azriel sighed, his free hand pinching the bridge of his nose. "Can we not do this right now?"

"Oh, we’re absolutely doing this right now," Feyre interjected, her voice warm and teasing as she stepped forward. "It's wonderful to finally meet you. I hope you're ready for this lot—they're a handful."

"I think I can handle it," I said with a grin, glancing at Azriel. "I've had some practice, after all." I say while patting his hard chest.

Mor laughed, the sound a melodic song of harmonizing notes and rhythm. "Oh, she's good."

Azriel's hand tightened around my waist as he muttered, "All right. That's enough."

But Mor wasn't done yet. She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that everyone could still hear. "So, what's the verdict? Is he as broody at home as he is here?"

Azriel groaned audibly, his head tilting back as if beseeching the heavens for patience. "Can we please move on?”

I bit back a laugh, deciding to play along. "He has his moments," I said, feigning seriousness. "But don't worry, I've been working on getting him to smile more. It's a work in progress." I wink, knowing deep down it was the opposite. It was rare I saw the Shadow Singer, he left when Azriel came home.

Mor's eyes sparkled with delight. "Oh I definitely like you.”

"Don't encourage her," Azriel muttered, his voice low but not unkind. His family didn't miss the way his hand lingered at my waist, nor the faint smile tugging at his lips despite his best efforts.

Rhysand, Cassian, and Mor exchanged knowing glances, their amusement clear. These three of known him longest. His true family. It was wrong to compare myself to them, but they had so much history that I’d never get the chance to even earn. Azriel’s arm slithered around my waist tighter, pressing a gentle kiss to my temple in reassurance.

Cassian leaned closer, his grin wicked. "Territorial already, huh? Don't worry, Az. We won't steal her from you." He paused for effect, then added, "Probably."

Azriel sighed heavily, muttering something under his breath that only I could hear. "I knew this was a bad idea."

I leaned into him slightly, my voice soft and teasing. "Oh, come on. It's not so bad. They're just excited."

He glanced down at me, his gaze softening for a moment. "They're going to drive you crazy."

I smiled up at him. "Good thing I've got you to keep me sane, then."

His lips twitched, and though he didn't respond, the warmth in his expression said enough.

The evening continued in a blur of laughter and conversation. I found myself settling easily into the group's dynamic, their teasing banter drawing me in. Mor and Cassian seemed particularly delighted to prod at Azriel, their jokes relentless.

"Starfall miracle," Rhys declared at one point, raising his glass. "Azriel, finally among the living. Who knew it would take a beautiful female to thaw our Spymaster's icy heart?"

Azriel's response was a low growl, but the corners of his mouth twitched, betraying his amusement, because he knew the High Lord had spoken truth, and some part of him was proud that it had been his mate to pull him from his own self deprecation.

At some point, the conversation turned to stories from their past. Cassian, emboldened by a few drinks, decided to share a tale about a young Azriel.

"Oh, this one's good," Cassian began, leaning back in his chair. "Picture it: Azriel, barely sixteen, still figuring out his wings. He was convinced he could outmaneuver anyone. So, during training, he challenges not one, not two, but three of the older Illyrians to a sparring match."

"Cassian, don't," Azriel warned, his voice low.

Cassian ignored him, grinning wickedly. "So there he is, all confident and smug, thinking he's got this in the bag. And then—bam! One of them sweeps his leg—rookie mistake, and he goes down like a sack of potatoes. But the best part? When he lands, he somehow manages to fall face-first into a pile of mud."

I couldn't help it—I burst out in a giggle, the image too vivid and ridiculous. Azriel groaned, pressing his forehead against my shoulder to hide his embarrassment.

"Don't worry," I said between giggles, running my fingers through his hair. "I think it's cute."

"You would," he muttered, but I felt the tension in his shoulders ease.

“C’mon, little Az taking on three big men for his own ego boost? It’s adorable, and terribly embarrassing.” I add the last part with a soft laugh.

"See?" Cassian said, raising his glass. "She gets it. Az, you've been holding out on us."

"He's gone soft," Amren adds with a deadpan, causing an amused smile to stretch across my features, happy to be the one who caused it.

After what felt like hours of constant attention, I excused myself to step outside for some air. The cool breeze was a welcome reprieve, and I leaned against the balcony railing, staring up at the sky. The stars hadn't begun falling yet, but the night was beautiful, the heavens alive with light.

The sound of the door opening behind me was soft, but I recognized the quiet footsteps immediately.

"Azriel," I said, glancing over my shoulder.

He hesitated in the doorway, his expression unreadable. "Are you all right?" he asked.

I smiled. "I'm fine. Just needed a breather."

He stepped closer, his shadows swirling lazily around him. "If it's too much—if they're too much—I can take you home."

I turned to face him fully, my heart squeezing at the worry in his eyes. "Azriel," I said softly, reaching for his hand. "I don't regret coming. Your family is wonderful."

His brow furrowed, as though he wasn't sure whether to believe me.

"And," I added with a playful grin, "now I have plenty of embarrassing stories to use against you if you ever misbehave."

That earned a quiet laugh, and he shook his head. "You're terrible," he said, but his tone was full of affection.

I stepped closer, placing a hand on his chest. "I do mean it, I love you okay? Nothings going to scare me away."

His eyes softened, and he cupped my face in his hands. "I'm not used to this," he admitted. "This joy. Ever since you walked into my life, it's like everything's changed. I know I don't say it enough, but, I love you. More than anything."

Tears pricked at my eyes, and I stood on my toes to press my lips to his.

But the familiar kiss was cut short, the first star streaked across the sky, followed by another and another. Azriel pulled away, then pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me as we watched the stars fall together.

When we returned inside, nearly an hour after the stars stopped their descent, the group was already winding down. Rhys approached us with a knowing smile. "Heading out?" he asked.

Azriel nodded. "It's getting late."

Mor hugged me tightly before we left. "You're officially one of us now," she said, winking. "Good luck dealing with Az. He's not as tough as he pretends to be."

Cassian clapped Azriel on the back. "Don't screw this up," he said, grinning.

Azriel rolled his eyes but didn't respond, guiding me toward the door.

"Come back soon," Feyre called after us, her smile warm.

By the time we returned to our apartment on the edge of the Sidra, I was exhausted but happy. Azriel helped me out of my dress, his touch gentle as he kissed my shoulder.

"Thank you for coming tonight," he said softly. "It meant a lot to me."

I smiled, turning to face him. "I think I like your family," I teased.

Azriel snorted, pulling me into his arms. "That makes one of us."

And as we fell into bed, the sound of the river outside our window, I knew there was nowhere else I'd rather be.

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[misswynters]

Baby blue and the mouse

featuring. jinx x platonic sister! reader

requested. by @mxbrahms

Zaun sure had a way of shaping people. Its smog-filled streets, the endless clang of machinery, and the shadows that clung to every corner seemed to seep into its inhabitants. For you, it had always been home, even when it wasn’t. You couldn’t remember much about your early years. Just flickers of a woman’s laugh, the warmth of arms that held you close, and a faint lullaby that had no words. That was your mother. A woman who hid you away in the cracks of Zaun, keeping you in the quiet while the world outside raged on.

It wasn’t until you were nine that the veil of safety she’d woven for you came undone. You’d come home to find her there: still, lifeless, her body sprawled across the floor of your tiny, crumbling apartment. The smell of copper and rust hung heavy in the air. Your small hands had trembled as you reached out, as though touching her would bring her back. But nothing happened. The quiet you had always clung to now felt suffocating.

You didn’t cry. You couldn’t. Instead, you did what she’d taught you: you hid. Hours passed in silence until the door creaked open again, and a figure stepped inside. Silco.

You didn’t know him then, not really. Just a name whispered in fear and reverence across Zaun. But he knew you. His mismatched eyes softened when they landed on you, crouched in the corner with wide, untrusting eyes. He didn’t speak at first, just offered his hand. When you finally took it, his grip was firm, a silent promise that you wouldn’t be left alone again.

After the death of your mother, the weeks that followed were a blur. Silco had taken you in, not as a burden, but as though you’d always been meant to be there. It wasn’t until much later that you learned the truth, you were his. His daughter. A piece of him that had been stolen away years ago, hidden by a woman he once trusted. He didn’t speak of her often, and neither did you. It was an unspoken understanding, a wound neither of you cared to prod.

Life with Silco was different. He wasn’t the warm, nurturing father you might have imagined in another life. He was calculated, cold at times, but never cruel. He taught you to navigate Zaun’s chaos with the same sharp mind and steady hand he used to command it. But he also gave you space to be you. Where Jinx was fire and fury, you were the quiet storm, slipping through the cracks and unraveling problems with precision rather than explosions.

Jinx took to you immediately, dubbing you her “twin” despite the lack of blood ties. Where Silco’s love was subtle and Jinx’s was overwhelming. A whirlwind of laughter, mischief, and an almost suffocating loyalty. She dragged you into her chaos at every turn, but you never minded. You understood her in a way few others could.

And though you were quieter, calmer, you matched her step for step. While she painted Zaun in vibrant colors and explosions, you moved through its shadows, making sure the aftermath didn’t swallow her whole. Jinx loved Silco in her own way, but your relationship with him was different. It was softer, quieter. He trusted you to see sides of him no one else did. The weariness in his shoulders, the small moments of pride when you succeeded, the way his voice softened when he said your name.

You never resented the life you’d been given. Zaun was harsh, but it had given you a family. A found one, a messy one, but one that was yours. That you grew to deeply love. And when the nights grew long and the memories of your mother came creeping back, you clung to that. To Silco, to Jinx, to the strange, chaotic love that bound you all together.

. . .

“Mousie,” she’d call out, her voice brimming with excitement. It was a name she had given you, and despite its loudness, you had taken it with affection. She was always the one pulling you into her chaos, dragging you from one wild adventure to the next, making sure you were always beside her. The first time you met her, it was during one of her more "creative" escapades. She was no more than a whirlwind of blue hair and erratic energy, her hands constantly on the move as she tinkered with a bomb. You had been observing from the shadows, as usual, when she caught sight of you.

"What are you doing back there, Mouse?" she had asked, her voice catching on your quiet demeanor. "Don’t be shy, come on! I’ve got a plan, and I need your help!"

You didn’t say much, as always, but you followed her. You had learned to do so over time, a silent presence at her side as she ran through her unpredictable schemes. She was loud, yes, but she had a way of making things feel... alive. And for the first time since the murder of your mother, you didn’t feel alone.

You became her constant companion, the calm to her storm. Jinx's chaos, her explosions, her manic energy, became something you learned to navigate with a careful hand. She would get into trouble, and you would be there to pull her back. She was fire, and you were the soft, quiet water, always there to temper her flames.

“Come on, we’ve got stuff to blow up!” she would shout, her eyes sparkling with mischief. And while you’d never fully understand her love for the explosions, the danger, you couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. You had never known anyone like her before, someone who was so unapologetically themselves.

Silco, too, grew to rely on you. He never demanded anything of you that you couldn’t give. You were always there, quietly taking care of things. He never needed you to be loud, never asked you to be anything other than what you were. And just like him, a part of the system, working in the background.

It was a strange family you’d found. Silco, your actual father and Jinx, the "twin" sister you never asked for but would never trade her in for anything else. You didn’t talk about it much, didn’t say the words that would have made it feel official, but in your quiet way, you knew it was real. You had found your place, even if the world around you was broken and full of noise. Thought you couldn't admit that you never truly felt like Silco was your dad. That you were his biological daughter. You were the complete opposite than he was.

But things were never simple. The scars of the past followed you like a shadow. The loss of your mother, the chaos nature of Zaun. It all weighed heavily on you, even when you pretended it didn’t. Jinx always seemed to know when you were spiraling, when your thoughts would drift to that place you didn’t want to go.

"Hey," she’d say, her voice softer than usual, something rare and gentle in her tone. "You’re gonna be okay. I gotcha, okay?"

And you’d nod, your lips twitching into a small smile, even though you didn’t have the words. She always knew when you needed her, and even though she was often the cause of the chaos, she was also the one who could pull you back from it. You both needed each other, she with her explosive energy and you with your quiet steadiness. The perfect pair, Yin and Yang, the calm and the chaos.

Sometimes, Silco would find you two together, Jinx sprawled across the floor, laughing at something ridiculous, while you sat quietly beside her, watching her with a quiet fondness. He would look at the two of you, his cold exterior softening just a little.

“You two,” he would mutter, though there was an unspoken warmth in his voice. “Always together. Never far apart. It’s good to have someone to rely on.”

And you would nod, though the words never seemed to come. You had someone now. Someone who understood you in a way that others never could. Someone who needed your quiet, just as you needed her chaos.

You’d lost everything once, but in the wreckage of it all, you had found something new. A broken family. Not the loud, demanding kind, but a family of your own. Silent, steady, and always together.

. . .

There was of course an instance were things didn’t go as planned. The warehouse was supposed to be quiet. You had slipped into the building alongside Jinx, the two of you tasked with scouting out an area for Silco’s latest dealings. In typical fashion, Jinx’s interpretation of “quiet” skewed toward chaos. While you stuck to the shadows, cataloging the crates and memorizing the guards’ routes, she was already toying with her explosives, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“C’mon, Twinny,” Jinx whispered loudly, twirling a grenade in her hand as she crouched behind a pile of crates. “You’re taking forever! We could blow this place sky-high and still be home for dinner.”

You sighed, slipping up beside her. ���We’re not blowing anything up, Jinx. Not yet, anyway.” Your voice was low and steady, a stark contrast to her barely-contained excitement. “Silco wants intel first, remember?”

She groaned, dramatically rolling her eyes. “Boooring.” But even as she said it, she pocketed the grenade. You knew she couldn’t resist a little fun, though, and you braced yourself for whatever small bit of chaos she was about to unleash.

Jinx’s “fun” started small. A wrench tossed into a spinning fan, creating a loud, metallic screech. A stack of boxes pushed just enough to topple over, startling a few guards nearby. She was like a storm, restless and wild, but she always stayed close to you. Her self-proclaimed twin.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you had been weaving through the building when it happened. Jinx had been rigging a small contraption to set off a harmless distraction. A flick of her wrist, a sudden flash, and a sound that was far louder than you had anticipated. The guards reacted instantly, shouting orders and scattering as the explosion rattled the building. Jinx laughed, a manic, gleeful sound as she grabbed your arm, dragging you toward an exit.

“Wasn’t that awesome?!” she exclaimed, her blue hair whipping behind her as she ran.

“Too awesome,” you replied, glancing over your shoulder. “They’re coming this way.”

“Good! I could use the exercise,” Jinx shot back, but her grip on your arm tightened. No matter how reckless she seemed, she always made sure you were close. The two of you darted through the maze of crates and equipment, the sound of boots pounding after you. Jinx reached for one of her gadgets, probably to unleash more chaos, but in her haste, she fumbled.

The explosion wasn’t huge considering her standards. However the force of it sent you sprawling. A sharp pain shot through your leg as you hit the ground, biting back a cry. Jinx was by your side in an instant, her eyes wide with a mix of guilt and panic.

“Hey, hey! You good?” she asked, her voice unusually soft as she crouched beside you. Her hands hovered, unsure where to touch without causing more harm.

“I’m fine,” you lied, trying to push yourself up. The sharp sting in your leg betrayed you, and you winced.

“Liar,” Jinx muttered. She glanced at the approaching guards, then back at you. Without hesitation, she hauled you up, slinging your arm over her shoulder. “C’mon, Twinny. We’re getting outta here.”

She moved fast, supporting your weight with surprising strength. Despite the pain, you couldn’t help but smile at her determination. By the time you made it back to Silco’s office, your leg was throbbing, and Jinx was muttering apologies under her breath. Silco was waiting, his sharp gaze immediately locking onto you.

“What happened?” he demanded, his voice cold but edged with concern. His eyes flicked to your leg, then to Jinx, who was already fidgeting under his scrutiny.

“It was an accident!” Jinx blurted out before you could speak. “I mean, kinda. I didn’t mean to—”

“Enough,” Silco interrupted, his voice stern. He stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “You were supposed to be careful. This—” He gestured to your leg, then to Jinx. “—is the opposite of that.”

Jinx looked like she’d been struck. Her usual tone faltered, and for a moment, she was just a kid being scolded by her father. “I didn’t mean to hurt her,” she mumbled, her gaze dropping to the floor.

Silco’s anger softened, though his voice remained firm. “Intentions don’t erase consequences, Jinx. You know better.”

You, ever the mediator, stepped in. “It’s not all her fault,” you said, your tone calm despite the pain. “I should’ve stopped her sooner.”

Silco’s eyes softened as they landed on you. “You shouldn’t have to,” he replied simply. Then, turning back to Jinx, he added, “You need to be more careful, especially with her.”

Jinx nodded, her shoulders slumping. “Got it boss,” she muttered. The tension eased as Silco called in a medic to tend to your leg. Jinx hovered nearby, her usual energy replaced with uncharacteristic quiet. When the medic left and Silco returned to his desk, you and Jinx were alone.

Jinx shifted awkwardly, her fingers twitching as she sat beside you. “I’m sorry,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

You glanced at her, surprised by the sincerity in her tone. “I know,” you replied.

She hesitated, then grinned—small and tentative but real. “You’re lucky that you are my sister, Mousie. Otherwise, I’d let you hobble around on your own.”

You laughed softly, nudging her with your elbow. “Lucky me.”

Jinx’s grin widened, and for a moment, everything felt normal again. She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Next time, we’ll make it even bigger. But, you know, safer. Maybe.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile. With Jinx, chaos was inevitable, but so was her loyalty. No matter how wild things got, you knew she’d always have your back, just as you had hers.

taglist. @kaixvdenny @winxthinxs @ekkosh @inguuuuu @pearldaisy @jannesyjane @thesecondhandwoman @halle5s @comfortweeb @bubblespopblue @mellowzhi @mbekgsv

[soulofapatrick]

The Bat Boys and their Kinks

Summary: Just what I think the bat boys main kinks would be

Words: 951 words

Warnings: smut

➩ Overstimulation - Rhys takes immense pleasure in seeing you unravel completely. He doesn’t rush—he’s patient, thorough, and relentless, coaxing orgasm after orgasm from you until you’re trembling in his arms. He whispers soft reassurances, telling you how beautifully you fall apart for him, even as he gently coaxes you into another wave of bliss. To him, overstimulation is about worship, proving just how deeply he can satisfy you.

➩ Praise kink - Rhys thrives on building his partner up, and this extends seamlessly into the bedroom. His velvety voice is full of admiration as he murmurs how beautiful, strong, and perfect you are. He takes pride in watching your cheeks flush and hearing the little sounds of pleasure you make in response to his words, each one spurring him on to give you more. 

➩ Brat taming - Rhys relishes a challenge, and when you act out, it only excites him further. He’d let you push his buttons just enough before stepping in with a commanding smirk, pinning you down and reminding you exactly who’s in charge. His punishment is never cruel—just firm enough to leave you breathless and begging for more, ensuring you remember your place at his side.

➩ Cunnilingus - Rhys loves giving, and he takes his time with it, savouring every moan and tremble he elicits from you. His strong arms hold your thighs steady, even as you try to close them around his head. His tongue is deliberate, teasing, and relentless, ensuring you fall apart completely before he’s satisfied. He considers it his favourite way to worship you, often finishing you there alone because your pleasure is his reward.

➩ Semi-public - Rhysand is daring and loves the thrill of intimacy in risky places. Whether it’s a secluded balcony overlooking Velaris or a shadowed alcove in the Court of Nightmares, the danger of being caught only adds to the excitement. He delights in the way your cheeks flush with the risk, always leaving you aching for more once you’re safely alone again.

➩ Thigh riding - Azriel loves watching you come undone in this way. He’ll sit back, hands firmly gripping your hips as you grind against his thigh, guiding your rhythm but letting you take control. The tension in his jaw, the way his shadows curl around you like they want to pull you closer, makes it even more intense. He murmurs dark, filthy things as he watches the flush creep up your skin, savouring every sound you make. 

➩ Hair pulling - There’s something about the way your head tilts back when he winds his hand into your hair that drives him wild. It’s not just dominance—it’s the control, the soft gasp you make, and the way you arch into him, fully at his mercy.

➩ Cockwarming - Azriel’s patient and intimate nature makes this a perfect fit. He’d relish the quiet closeness and the trust it requires, enjoying the stillness and connection before building to something more intense. Sometimes he's just so bone tired from it all. he just needs to feel you, nothing more. sitting you on his lap and sinking his cock into your welcoming walls. face burying into your neck and savouring the feeling.

➩ Marking - Azriel has a possessive streak that comes out in moments of passion. His lips find the tender places on your neck, his teeth pressing just enough to leave reminders of him behind. He loves knowing you’ll carry those marks, a secret only the two of you share.

➩ Silent sex - Azriel thrives on quiet intensity. The thrill of needing to stay quiet, of muffling your cries into his hand as he thrusts into you, makes every touch electrifying. His shadows keep watch, ensuring your secret moments remain just that—yours alone.

➩ Face fucking - Cassian’s dominance shines in moments like this. He loves the rawness of it, his hand gripping your hair as he looks down at you with that predatory gaze. There’s a wild edge to the way he thrusts into your mouth, groaning at the sight of your lips stretched around him. It’s not just about the act—it’s about the trust, the way you surrender completely to him, and the smug pride that comes with knowing you’re his.

➩ Breeding - Cassian’s primal side comes alive with this kink. The thought of you full of him—marked by him—drives him wild. He growls promises in your ear, holding you tight as he whispers how good you’d look carrying his child. It’s not just physical; it’s deeply emotional, tied to his protective instincts and desire to build something lasting with you.

➩ Dry humping - Cassian finds this teasing and playful, a way to build anticipation until you’re begging for more. The friction, the way you move together with clothes still in the way, and the growing desperation in your eyes all fuel his desire. He’d laugh lowly in your ear, loving how frustrated and needy you get, knowing he’s in control of when things escalate.

➩  Rough Sex - Cassian thrives on intensity and passion, and rough sex is where he truly lets loose. He’s all growls and harsh grips, pinning you against the wall or bending you over whatever surface is closest. His sheer physical strength makes every moment thrilling, and he loves the way you cling to him, leaving scratches down his back as he pushes you both to the edge.

➩ Body worship -  Cassian adores every inch of you, and he makes sure you know it. His hands roam your body with reverence, his lips pressing kisses to places you didn’t even know were sensitive. He’d take his time, murmuring how perfect you are, marvelling at every curve, scar, or freckle. For him, this is about making you feel like the goddess he sees you as.

ACOTAR Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

TAGS:

@lilah-asteria @maleficmuse @fanficscuziranout @angelbunny222 @illyriassweetheart

[florawrites-blog]

Our way of making up

-Making up with enhypen members after a argument

(side note: I learnt new vocabs so needed to use them)

Lee heeseung - 이희승

The night had settled in, casting long shadows across the apartment as you sat on the couch, arms crossed, your mind still replaying the argument you had with Heeseung. It had been hours since he stormed out, needing space, and your pride wouldn’t let you be the one to reach out first. You told yourself he’d come back eventually, that he just needed time to cool off.

But as the minutes turned into hours, a gnawing sense of unease started creeping in. The once comforting silence of the apartment now felt suffocating, and every little sound seemed amplified. The clock ticking on the wall, the creak of the floorboards, and then… something else. A noise outside, subtle at first but growing louder, closer. Your heart rate quickened, your mind racing with thoughts of what could be out there.

What if it’s a thief? you thought, your anxiety spiking. Alone in the apartment, the fear was almost tangible, wrapping around you like a cold blanket. You tried to dismiss it, telling yourself that you were being paranoid, that it was probably just the wind or an animal. But then, the noise came again, clearer this time, and much closer.

Your breath hitched, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Heeseung should have been back by now, you thought, frustration mingling with your fear. If he hadn’t been so stubborn, so determined to stay out for six hours, you wouldn’t be alone right now, feeling vulnerable and exposed.

Unable to shake the fear, you grabbed the closest thing to a weapon you could find—a pan from the kitchen. Your hands trembled slightly as you gripped it, trying to muster the courage to face whatever was making those noises. Slowly, you made your way to the door, your heart pounding so loudly in your ears that it drowned out almost everything else.

As you reached the door, you heard footsteps just outside. Your grip tightened on the pan, muscles tensed, ready to defend yourself. The door creaked open, and you swung the pan with all your might—only to have it stopped mid-air.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Heeseung’s voice broke through the fog of fear, his reflexes quick enough to catch the pan just before it could connect with his head.

Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes wide with shock and relief as you realized what had almost happened. “Heeseung!” you exclaimed, your voice a mix of anger, relief, and guilt.

He slowly lowered the pan, his expression shifting from surprise to a more serious one as he looked at you. “What were you doing?” he asked, his voice still tinged with the lingering tension from your earlier fight.

“What was I doing? What were you doing?” you shot back, your voice trembling as the adrenaline still coursed through your veins. “I thought you were a thief or something! You’ve been gone for hours, Heeseung! I—”

“I’m sorry,” he cut you off, his voice softer now, the anger from before dissipating as he realized just how scared you’d been. “I just needed some time to think… but I didn’t mean to be gone this long.”

You looked at him, your emotions all tangled up—frustration at his disappearance, relief that he was back, and a lingering fear from the strange noises outside. “You scared me,” you admitted quietly, your voice losing its earlier edge.

Heeseung’s expression softened as he stepped closer, pulling you into a hug that you hadn’t realized you needed. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, his arms tightening around you, his voice filled with genuine regret. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

You sighed into his chest, the fear finally ebbing away as you felt the familiar warmth of his embrace. “Let’s not fight like that again,” you murmured, burying your face in his shirt, the earlier argument now feeling trivial compared to the relief of having him back.

He nodded, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Agreed. I’m not going anywhere, okay? We’ll talk through things next time.”

The tension between you dissolved as you stood there, wrapped up in each other, the pan long forgotten on the floor as the night quietly continued around you.

Park jongseong - 박종성

The argument with Jay had been brief but sharp, a rare occurrence between the two of you. Usually, you could talk things out before they even escalated into something serious, but this time was different. He had to leave for work, cutting the conversation short and leaving you alone with your thoughts. As the door closed behind him, a heavy feeling settled in your chest. The unresolved tension gnawed at you, making you feel queasy, or maybe you really were getting sick.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. You didn’t have the energy to do anything, and the apartment seemed too quiet without Jay’s presence. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, that maybe the argument had been more significant than either of you realized. As the hours dragged on, you felt worse and worse, both physically and emotionally. By the time night fell, you had retreated to the bedroom, the curtains drawn tightly shut, blocking out any light.

You lay in bed, curled up under the covers as the TV blared at full volume, but you weren’t really watching it. The sound was more of a distraction, something to drown out the silence and the thoughts racing through your mind. Eventually, exhaustion took over, and you drifted into a fitful sleep, the weight of the argument still pressing heavily on you.

When Jay finally came home the next morning, the apartment was eerily quiet. He had tried calling you several times throughout the day, but there had been no answer. Worry gnawed at him as he walked through the apartment, noticing that nothing seemed to have changed since he left. Dishes were still in the sink, your belongings were scattered around, and the atmosphere felt strangely stagnant, as if time had stopped.

He pushed open the door to the bedroom, only to be met with darkness. The curtains were still closed, and the room was pitch black, save for the harsh glow of the TV, which was still on the loudest setting. His heart skipped a beat as he saw you lying there, unmoving, buried under the blankets. The sight sent a jolt of fear through him, and he quickly crossed the room, pulling open the curtains to let in some light.

Even with the sunlight streaming in, you didn’t stir. Concern etched deep lines into Jay’s face as he knelt beside the bed, reaching out to touch your forehead. The heat radiating from your skin shocked him; you were burning up, sweat clinging to your skin. He shook you gently, his voice tinged with worry as he called your name.

“Hey, wake up… please wake up,” he pleaded, his mind racing with thoughts of guilt and fear. Had you been like this all day? How had he not noticed something was wrong before he left? The argument replayed in his mind, but it seemed so insignificant now compared to the sight of you lying there, sick and vulnerable.

Slowly, you began to stir, your eyes fluttering open. They were swollen, red, evidence of the tears you had shed before finally succumbing to sleep. Seeing Jay’s face hovering over you, filled with concern, brought a fresh wave of guilt crashing over you, and tears welled up in your eyes once more.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying. “I… I didn’t mean to—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Jay interrupted gently, brushing your hair back from your forehead. “You’re burning up. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. Let me take care of you, okay?”

Despite your weakened state, the guilt gnawed at you. You felt responsible for the argument, for not resolving things before he left, for getting sick and making him worry. But as Jay carefully helped you sit up, his touch tender and reassuring, those feelings began to melt away, replaced by a deep sense of relief that he was there, that he still cared.

Jay left the room briefly, returning with a glass of water and some fever medicine. He helped you take the pills, his hand steady as he held the glass to your lips. “Drink slowly,” he murmured, his voice soothing as he watched you, making sure you were okay. He then disappeared into the kitchen, where he began cooking something simple yet comforting.

The smell of food soon filled the apartment, and despite your sickness, it stirred a faint hunger in you. When Jay returned with a bowl of warm soup, the sight of it made your eyes water again. He set the tray down beside you, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Eat a little bit, okay? You need your strength,” he urged, his voice gentle.

As you sipped the soup, the warmth spread through your body, a stark contrast to the cold fear that had gripped you earlier. Jay watched you closely, his guilt evident in his eyes. “I’m so sorry for leaving like that,” he said quietly, his hand resting on your knee. “I should have stayed. I should have checked on you.”

You shook your head, your voice barely a whisper. “No, it’s my fault. I didn’t… I didn’t handle things well. I should have just talked to you.”

Jay squeezed your knee gently, his eyes softening. “We both could have done things differently. But right now, the important thing is that you get better. We can talk about everything later.”

That was all it took to break down the remaining walls. The tears flowed freely as you leaned into him, the emotions of the past day pouring out. Jay held you close, his arms wrapping around you protectively, his own tears threatening to spill over as he whispered reassurances in your ear.

“I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, holding you tightly. “We’ll get through this together, okay?”

In that moment, the argument, the sickness, all of it seemed to fade away. All that mattered was the two of you, together, ready to face whatever came next. And as you clung to him, the warmth of his embrace chased away the lingering cold of the night before, leaving only the comforting presence of the person you loved more than anything in the world.

Sim jaeyun = 심재윤

The day had been tense, to say the least. The argument with Jake had left a heavy cloud hanging over the apartment, and you both retreated to different corners of the house to cool off. It wasn’t like you to argue, but today, emotions had gotten the better of you. Now, as you sat on the edge of the bed, replaying the heated words in your mind, you felt the sting of regret.

Jake, meanwhile, had taken a long, hot shower, hoping to wash away the frustration that had built up between you two. He was still lost in thought as he stepped out of the bathroom, a towel slung low around his hips, droplets of water clinging to his chest and dampening his hair. But in his distracted state, he didn’t notice the pile of laundry you’d thrown earlier in a fit of irritation.

One misstep was all it took. His foot caught on a stray shirt, and before he knew it, he was stumbling forward. You barely had time to register what was happening before Jake was tumbling onto the bed, landing right on top of you with a soft thud. The unexpected weight of him knocked the breath out of you, and you instinctively turned your head to the side, avoiding his gaze.

Jake froze, his arms on either side of your head, holding himself up so he wouldn’t crush you completely. His wet hair hung down, dripping cold water onto your cheek. For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension from earlier still lingering in the air. Jake was the first to break the silence, his voice soft and hesitant.

“Uh… sorry,” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed by the situation. His cheeks were flushed, whether from the heat of the shower or the awkwardness of the moment, you weren’t sure. He looked down at you, his usual confident demeanor replaced by the confused, almost puppy-like expression he wore whenever he was at a loss for words.

You could feel his warm breath against your skin, the closeness making your heart race despite the lingering irritation from the argument. But you still refused to look at him, your pride keeping you from acknowledging the accidental intimacy of the moment. Instead, you focused on the sensation of his wet hair dripping onto your face, each drop sending a shiver down your spine.

Jake, sensing your discomfort but not quite knowing how to fix it, shifted slightly, inadvertently causing his towel to slip just a little lower. You felt the movement, and your eyes widened in response, though you still stubbornly refused to meet his gaze.

“I, uh, didn’t mean to—” Jake started, but his words trailed off as he struggled to figure out how to salvage the situation. He looked down at you, seeing the way your lips were pressed into a thin line, your brows furrowed in a mix of annoyance and something else he couldn’t quite place. His heart clenched at the thought that he might have made things worse between you two.

The sight of you beneath him, so close yet so distant, was enough to make him realize just how much he hated the tension that had built up between you. He missed the easygoing laughter, the playful teasing, and most of all, the warmth that you always brought into his life. And now, here he was, in one of the most compromising positions imaginable, and he felt completely helpless.

A drop of water fell from his hair, landing on your lips this time. You finally couldn’t resist anymore and turned your head back to face him, meeting his gaze for the first time since he’d fallen on you. Jake’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, the two of you just stared at each other, the earlier argument seeming almost insignificant in the face of this unexpected closeness.

Neither of you spoke, the silence filled with unspoken apologies and lingering feelings. Jake’s confusion gradually melted into something softer as he looked at you, realizing that maybe this ridiculous situation was exactly what you needed to break the tension. A small, hesitant smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he tried to gauge your reaction.

“I really didn’t mean to fall on you,” he said again, his voice lighter this time, with a hint of amusement creeping in. “I just… well, I’m a klutz, I guess.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that finally broke through your stern expression, the absurdity of the situation starting to get to you. The sight of Jake, usually so put-together, looking down at you with his wet hair and sheepish grin was enough to chip away at your lingering annoyance.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, your voice softer now. “Just… watch where you’re going next time.”

Jake let out a small laugh, the tension between you slowly dissolving as you both began to relax. “Yeah, I’ll try,” he said, his voice warm. He carefully shifted his weight, making sure his towel stayed in place, and rolled off of you, sitting up beside you on the bed.

The two of you sat there in silence for a moment, the remnants of the argument lingering in the background but no longer the focal point. Jake reached out, his hand brushing against yours as if testing the waters. When you didn’t pull away, he intertwined his fingers with yours, squeezing gently.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he said quietly, his voice sincere. “I didn’t want to leave things like that between us.”

You looked at him, the sincerity in his eyes making your heart ache. “I’m sorry too,” you replied, squeezing his hand back. “Let’s not fight like that again, okay?”

Jake nodded, his eyes softening as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Deal,” he whispered, pulling you into a warm embrace. The wetness of his hair was still a little annoying, but you didn’t mind so much now, especially as he held you close, making everything else seem so small in comparison.

In that moment, with Jake’s arms wrapped around you and the argument behind you, you felt the tension completely fade away, replaced by the familiar comfort of being with the person you loved.

Park sunghoon - 박성훈

The argument with Sunghoon earlier had been a rare occurrence. You were both introverts, and conflicts were usually avoided rather than confronted head-on. This time, though, something had snapped, and the two of you had exchanged a few terse words before he went completely silent. The lack of communication only made things more awkward, neither of you knowing how to bridge the gap that had suddenly formed between you.

Throughout the day, you both tried to go about your usual routines, but the tension was palpable. Sunghoon had eventually left the house without a word, and you didn’t have the energy to ask where he was going. Instead, you focused on trying to reclaim your cool, but the unresolved argument kept nagging at you, making it impossible to fully relax.

By the time night fell, you were emotionally drained. Rather than face the cold emptiness of your shared bed, you decided to crash on the couch for the night. It wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep, but it felt easier than being alone in the room where the argument had started. You curled up in a crooked position, trying to find some semblance of comfort, but exhaustion eventually pulled you into a restless sleep.

When Sunghoon returned home late that night, the apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator. He walked through the living room, intending to head straight to bed, but stopped in his tracks when he saw you on the couch. You looked so small and peaceful, even in the uncomfortable position you had curled yourself into. His heart clenched at the sight, a mix of guilt and longing washing over him.

He couldn’t stand to see you like that. The argument had already made him feel like he’d failed you, and now, seeing you sleeping on the couch because of it, he felt even worse. Silently, he knelt beside you, carefully adjusting your posture to make you more comfortable. As he did, you instinctively clung to him, your arms wrapping around his waist, seeking warmth and comfort even in your sleep.

Sunghoon froze, his heart pounding in his chest. The simple act of you holding onto him, even unconsciously, drove him crazy. He needed you—more than he could ever put into words. He craved your presence, your touch, your voice, and the thought of being apart from you, even emotionally, was unbearable.

Without a second thought, he slipped his arms under you, lifting you slightly so that your head rested against his neck, your cheek pressed against his Adam’s apple. You sighed softly in your sleep, your body relaxing into him, and he felt a surge of affection so strong it almost hurt. He stayed there, holding you close, his mind racing with everything he wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for.

Eventually, the exhaustion from the day caught up with him, and he felt his eyes growing heavy. He didn’t want to move—didn’t want to risk waking you or breaking the fragile peace that had settled over the room. So, he let himself sink into the couch beside you, his arms still wrapped around you protectively. Sleep claimed him before he could even think about it, pulling him into a deep, dreamless slumber.

When you woke up the next morning, it took you a moment to register where you were. The couch was even more uncomfortable than you remembered, and there was a weight pressing down on you that made it hard to move. It took another moment to realize that Sunghoon was there, his body draped over yours, his head nestled against your chest. He was still in his outwear, his soft snores escaping from his slightly parted lips.

The sight of him like that—so vulnerable and peaceful—melted away the lingering anger from the previous day. Despite everything, he looked so much like a child in that moment, his hand twitching slightly as he slept, and you couldn’t help but smile. You reached up, gently brushing his hair out of his face, and pulled him closer, his cheek resting against your chest.

Sunghoon stirred slightly, nuzzling into you, but he didn’t wake. His presence, his warmth, made it impossible to stay mad at him. Whatever tension had been between you the day before seemed so insignificant now, compared to the simple fact that you were here, together, holding each other close.

As you lay there, watching him sleep, you realized that nothing mattered more than this—than being with him, even when things weren’t perfect. You pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head, letting the last of your anger fade away. Sunghoon was your man-baby, after all, and as he lay there, snuggled up against you, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

Kim sunoo - 김순우

You and Sunoo had a silly argument earlier in the day, something trivial that spiraled into a playful spat. The kind of argument where neither of you could stay mad for long, but still, it left a bit of tension in the air. Both of you had your pride, and neither wanted to be the first to break the silence.

Hours passed, and you busied yourself with other things, trying to shake off the lingering awkwardness. Then, as the evening began to settle in, you heard a soft knock on your door. You opened it to find Sunoo standing there, looking at the ground with his usual mischievous yet adorable expression. His eyes, usually so bright, were now big and doe-like, his lips pressed into a small pout.

In his hands, he held a large bucket of mint chocolate ice cream—your favorite. The sight of him standing there, looking like an upset sly fox, immediately melted your heart. Without thinking twice, you ran to him with open arms, pulling him into a tight hug. Sunoo let out a little laugh as he wrapped his arms around you, the tension between you evaporating in an instant.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice soft as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I’m sorry too,” you replied with a smile, “and you didn’t have to bring me this, but I’m glad you did.”

Sunoo grinned, his eyes lighting up again as he handed you the ice cream. “Well, I knew this would make everything better.”

You both headed to the kitchen, grabbing spoons as you sat on the floor, the bucket of ice cream between you. The argument was long forgotten as you both dug in, laughing at how ridiculous the whole thing had been. Sunoo, ever the entertainer, started making funny faces and telling stories, making you laugh so hard that you nearly choked on your ice cream.

Before you knew it, the ice cream was almost gone, and you were both lying on the kitchen floor, your stomachs full and your hearts light. Sunoo turned his head to look at you, a soft smile on his lips as he reached over to squeeze your hand. “You know, even when we argue, I can’t imagine not having you around,” he said, his voice sincere.

You squeezed his hand back, your heart fluttering at his words. “I feel the same way, Sunoo. I’m glad we have each other.”

The two of you spent the rest of the evening there, on the kitchen floor, talking, laughing, and just enjoying each other’s company. The earlier argument seemed so silly now, just another small bump in the road that you both knew would always lead back to moments like this—filled with love, laughter, and of course, a lot of mint chocolate ice cream.

Yang jungwon - 양중원

After a heated argument, you slumped on the couch, frustrated and hurt. Jungwon, equally upset, grabbed his jacket and made his way to the door. You expected him to storm out, but instead, he paused and looked back at you, confusion flickering in his eyes. He seemed to hesitate before walking back over to you, his expression softening slightly.

Without a word, he reached down and pulled you off the couch, gently but firmly. Your confusion grew as he knelt to slip your shoes onto your feet. “Jungwon, where are we going?” you asked, but he didn’t answer. He just took your wrist in his hand and led you out of the house, still in your pajamas.

He walked with purpose, and it wasn’t until you reached a familiar spot that you realized where he had taken you. It was the place where he had first confessed his love to you. The memories of that day flooded back, and you felt a mix of emotions—confusion, love, and the remnants of your earlier argument.

Jungwon finally stopped and turned to face you, his eyes serious but filled with the deep affection you had always known. “Every time we argue, I want you to remember this place,” he began, his voice soft but steady. “This place is special because it’s where I first told you how much you mean to me. It won’t have the same spark if we’re not together anymore.”

His words struck a chord in you, and you realized that despite the argument, he was trying to remind you of what truly mattered. The tension between you slowly dissolved as the significance of the moment washed over you. Jungwon’s expression softened further as he gently pulled you into his arms, holding you close.

“I don’t want us to forget this,” he murmured against your hair. “No matter what happens, I don’t want to lose this.” You hugged him tightly, feeling the warmth of his love and the importance of the place you both stood in. The argument seemed trivial now, overshadowed by the depth of your connection.

As you stood there together, you knew that no matter what challenges came your way, the love you shared would always bring you back to this place, both physically and emotionally.

Ni- ki -남편

You and Ni-ki had argued earlier in the day, and while the fight wasn't serious, both of you were too stubborn to back down. Instead of talking it out, you decided to ignore him completely, which he took as a challenge. He ignored you right back, and now, both of you were locked in a silent treatment battle.

As the night wore on, you decided to take things a step further by going to bed without saying goodnight to him. Instead, you kissed your Puma plushie, whispering a soft "Goodnight" to it as you pulled the covers over yourself. Ni-ki saw this from the corner of his eye and tried to act nonchalant, wanting to seem mature and unaffected. But as the minutes passed, the bruising of his pride started to gnaw at him.

Unable to take it any longer, he stormed into the room, the tension in his movements betraying the calm façade he was trying to maintain. Without saying a word, he crawled onto the bed next to you, wrapping his arms around your figure from behind. His grip was tight, desperate, as if he was trying to silently convey what he couldn't say out loud.

You could feel his warm breath against your neck, and the tension slowly melted away. Despite the stubbornness that had driven you both earlier, you couldn't resist any longer. You turned around to face him, his arms still wrapped around you, and sighed softly.

"Who's my big baby?" you teased, your voice gentle as you cupped his cheeks.

He looked at you, his expression a mix of annoyance and longing, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned into your touch, allowing you to smother his cheeks with kisses. As much as he pretended to hate it, you could see the way his eyes softened, the way he let down his guard just for you.

Maybe the argument had been silly, but it had led to this moment, a reminder of how much he loved being babied by you, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

[smokesandsonatas]

Twisted Wonderland but make it grounded in dark reality. I drafted this around late 2023 and I just finished this now, haha. As always read at your own discretion and enjoy!

Warnings: Implied cannibalism. Dread.

Characters: Floyd and Jade, Leona, Ruggie, Rook, Idia, Lillia, Malleus, Others.

Not beta read.

Food.

- Any substance consumed by an organism for nutritional support. A means for survival.

You’ve always known most of them are peculiar creatures. Sharp teeth, mismatched eyes, monstrous forms, fins that glint with predatory sharpness, and horns that pierce the sky with arrogant pride. They embody the villains from the old fairy tales back in your world, grotesque and terrifying in equal measure. You suppose they function like civilized beings—they’ve learned to blend into human society, after all—but you can’t help but notice just how different, how unnervingly similar, they are to one thing: food.

The dishes at this college are like nothing you've ever tasted. Perhaps it's because many of them are children of royalty, so even the cafeteria food tastes like something out of a king's banquet. The pickiness of their palates is evident in every bite, in every carefully crafted dish. But there are things you find more intriguing than their refined taste; something almost hypnotic about the way they eat, especially when they don't mind you watching.

The scent of something delicious invaded Ramshackle Dorm in the dead of night. You assumed Grim was cooking, as ridiculous as that sounded, but found the little gremlin snoozing soundly beside you. Maybe it was the ghosts? But as you descended the stairs, you found the kitchen empty, devoid of any culinary activity. One glance at the night sky over Sage’s Island told you it was around 3 AM—far too early for breakfast, and far too late for dinner.

You tried to go back to sleep, but the tantalizing scent of roasted meat kept you awake, gnawing at your resolve until you could no longer ignore the hunger pangs twisting your stomach. Leaving Grim behind, you draped the sheets over his body, muttering a promise to return soon. Your curiosity and hunger led you to the cafeteria, which should have been deserted at this hour, but to your surprise…

They were all there. The ones you’ve grown closest to.

They were gathered around a long, elegant table, the atmosphere eerily reminiscent of Mostro Lounge—dim lights casting soft, ominous shadows across their faces. The table was laden with exquisite, expensive cuts of meat, arranged in a feast fit for monsters. And in the center of it all, a massive stack of roasted meat commanded your attention.

It looked…perfect. The tenderloin, you assumed, was butter-soft, with a thick, moist cut that bled a light pink from the center. The outer layer was roasted to a flawless crisp. But something about the presentation unnerved you, a chill creeping up your spine.

The pile of meat looked too much like the carcass of a person. Or a beast, perhaps. It was hard to tell. But you could almost see the outline of a body, as though someone—someone about five or six feet tall—had been subjected to the furnace’s extreme heat, roasted beyond recognition. Was that hair you saw near what should have been the head? Before you could inspect further, a voice called out to you.

"Ah! You're here! Come and join us, Shrimpy!" Floyd’s voice rang out, cheerful and disturbingly eager. His sharp teeth gleamed in the dim light, rows of jagged edges that could tear through flesh with ease. Beside him, Jade chuckled, slicing into a slab of meat with surgical precision, the knife gliding through like it was cutting butter.

Your eyes scanned the gathering. At the head of the table sat Tsunotaro—Malleus, the prince of fae. You frowned, under the impression that he usually is not invited in gatherings like this. But he nodded at you, a small, regal acknowledgment. “I was invited by Lilia,” he explained, his voice low and melodic. You glanced at his plate—a half-eaten steak submerged in a thick, red sauce. The metallic, almost fishy scent wafted up, assaulting your senses.

Before you could react, Lilia appeared beside you, his small hand guiding you to a seat. His right hand held a wine glass filled with a creamy red liquid that clung to the inside of the chalice. You tried to dismiss the fact that it looked too much like blood—thick, viscous blood. Surely, wine wasn’t supposed to look like that, but who were you to judge?

“Bonjour, Trickster! ~” Rook’s voice whispered in your ear, and when you turned, you were met with a sight that made your stomach turn. The smell hit you first—foul, putrid, like a freshly killed animal left to rot. It was too strong, the copper and iron scent so overpowering you had to fight to keep your expression neutral.

You hope your face does not betray the constriction of your throat.

“Rook,” you managed to say, swallowing down the bile that threatened to rise. “What…uhm, what is that?”

Rook laughed, the sound as sharp as the glint in his eyes. “Liver pâté, my dear,” he said, twirling his fork. “If it’s a strong scent, I apologize. It’s from the raw liver I like to eat with the liver pâté.”

Raw…

You tried to ignore the word. Back in your world, people ate raw food—sushi, for instance. So whatever Rook had on his plate was none of your business. At least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself.

“Shishishi, the food is sure delicious, especially when I’m getting it for free!” A voice cackled, startling you. You almost jumped out of your seat at the sight of Ruggie, devouring his meal with a voracious appetite. His sharp teeth ripped through the flesh with ease, tearing the meat from the bone in one swift motion. Red droplets—blood?—splattered across his chin, and you watched in horror as his tongue darted out to lick it clean.

“Oi, Ruggie, have some manners,” Leona growled from beside him, his voice gruff and annoyed. He wasn’t eating, his plate already littered with bones, but he was sipping from a glass filled with a red liquid. You wanted to believe it was wine, but the scent…The scent was as repugnant as the raw liver on Rook’s plate. It was metallic, nauseating

—blood.

A shiver trickled down your spine.

That same scent wafted from Malleus and Lilia’s glasses, clinging to the air like a dark cloud.

“You’re one to talk!” Ruggie retorted, his mouth full of meat. “You’ve never eaten a rat before, Leona-san.”

You blinked. Did you hear him right?

Your train of thought was interrupted by Malleus’s voice from your left.

“Shroud,” the prince of fae said, his tone commanding yet gentle, “drink this and replenish your energy.” You watched as Malleus offered Idia the same drink he was consuming. And to your shock, Idia accepted, his expression one of reluctance.

“I don’t really mind drinking this stuff, but I just don’t like eating much…” The Ignihyde dorm leader mumbled, his voice trailing off. You glanced at his plate—a barely touched piece of ‘steak’ with a small cut in the corner, oozing something you didn’t want to identify.

You could barely breathe as you watched Idia reluctantly take a sip of the viscous liquid from Malleus's chalice. His face remained as pale as ever, though a faint hint of color touched his cheeks. The sight was unsettling, and you couldn't help but feel a creeping sense of dread tightening around your chest.

"Not a fan of solid food?" Jade's voice slithered into your thoughts, pulling you from the trance. His mismatched eyes glinted in the dim light as he calmly sliced through his portion of meat, each movement precise and almost too graceful. "It's an acquired taste," he continued, offering you a smile that somehow did nothing to ease your growing anxiety.

Your gaze shifted to the plate in front of you, untouched and ominously inviting. The stack of meat in the center of the table loomed like a dark specter, its presence a constant reminder of the unease gnawing at your mind. You felt a pressure to partake, to show your acceptance of their world, but every fiber of your being screamed against it.

"Come now," Lilia's playful voice broke through the tension, "you should try it at least once. After all, it's not every day you get to dine with such esteemed company." He winked, the gesture meant to be comforting, but it only made you more wary.

You glanced around the table, noting the expectant gazes directed your way. Floyd’s sharp grin was still fixed on you, his eyes gleaming with mischief, while Ruggie gnawed contentedly on his bone, seemingly oblivious to the tension. Rook, watched you with a keen interest, his fork poised elegantly in his hand.

Leona’s gaze was the most unsettling, though. His amber eyes were half-lidded, seemingly bored, yet there was an intensity in them that made you feel like prey. His fingers drummed lazily on the table, and you couldn’t help but notice the slight curl of his lips, as if he was waiting for you to make a move.

Your gaze drifted across the table, stomach churning with a mix of disgust and dread. The dim light flickered, casting eerie shadows that seemed to dance across their faces—no, across their true forms. You blinked, the image wavering as if your mind was trying to shield you from something it wasn’t ready to comprehend.

Floyd’s laughter echoed, a sound that grated against your nerves. For a split second, you saw something else—an elongated, sinuous form, slick with scales, teeth sharper than any blade, rows upon rows of them, stretching endlessly down a gaping maw that promised nothing but pain. You shuddered, the image vanishing as quickly as it appeared, leaving you staring at the harmless, smiling face of the boy who once called you Shrimpy. Jade is no better. You can see the muscles bulging as his back turns, with sharp rows of fins scattered along his spine. If you were behind him right now, you’re certain he would cut you in half.

Your eyes flicked to Ruggie, who was gnawing on the bone of his meal with unabashed relish. But in the periphery of your vision, his form distorted—muscles rippling beneath fur that was too thick, claws that scraped against the table, and a maw that was too wide, too hungry, filled with jagged fangs meant for tearing, ripping, devouring. He glanced up, catching your gaze, and you quickly looked away, the image of the beast-man fading back into the all-too-familiar figure of a mischievous boy. Leona on the other hand, sit still. The image of a lion assessing it's prey. You dare not look at his eyes burning holes through your skull—you feel it.

Idia, who sits apart from the others, his presence a dark shadow at the table. There’s something about him that feels different, even among these monsters. His connection to the underworld is undeniable, a guardian of the boundary between life and death. The flickering blue flames of his hair and the way his eyes pierce through the darkness suggest something far older and more terrifying than any of the others—a being who has seen what lies beyond the veil, and who has perhaps brought a piece of it back with him.

Rook, you cannot even begin to comprehend how a human—like yourself, is able to blend in with them.

But the worst was Malleus. The prince of the fae was calm, serene even, but there was something wrong—horribly wrong. His eyes glowed too brightly, their green hue pulsating with an otherworldly light. And then, for just a moment, you saw what lay beneath that regal facade—a towering figure, wings that stretched endlessly, blotting out the sky, horns that twisted and curled like a crown of dark thorns. His smile was too sharp, too knowing, as if he could see right through you, into the very depths of your soul.

You closed your eyes, refusing to look at anyone anymore.

You tried to swallow your saliva, but your throat was dry, your mouth parched. The air was thick with the scent of blood, the tang of iron clinging to your tongue. They were all looking at you now, waiting, expecting you to take a bite, to join them in this feast.

Lilia’s voice broke the silence, light and playful as ever. “Come now, dear. Don’t be shy. You wouldn’t want to insult your hosts, would you?”

The pressure was unbearable, the weight of their gazes pressing down on you, suffocating you. Your hand trembled as you reached for the fork, the silver glinting in the low light. You knew, deep down, that whatever you saw—whatever you thought you saw—a no mere trick of the light.

They were not like you. They were never like you.

"I," you hope your voice does not shake, "I am full." You nodded, convincing them. You let out a nervous laugh, quickly standing up as you find the place too suffocating. Chair scraping the floor. "I'm fine! Really, I—ah, I need to go back, I have to catch some sleep and Grim is alone."

Floyd is quick to be by your side. His smile, wide and filled with sharp teeth, is unsettling. "Eh, Shrimpy, do you not like the food?" He asks, worry in his voice. You know it's fake: he's mocking you.

"I am good," you say with a strained smile. Please let me go, please, please—

"I insist," Malleus interjects, his voice smooth but commanding. "This is a feast meant for sharing. It would be rude to leave before sampling a morsel."

As if on cue, the others start to close in. Rook leans in closer, his eyes glinting with an unsettling mix of curiosity and amusement. "The flavors are truly exquisite, you know. Not something one should miss out on."

Leona’s gaze is heavy and piercing, his voice low and rumbling. "I’ve seen your kind turn down more robust fare than this. Surely you can handle a small bite."

Your attempts to excuse yourself only seem to stoke their interest further. The way they move, their unnervingly smooth motions, reminds you of predators circling their prey.

You might just be one tonight.

Floyd’s grin widens as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your neck. "Come on, Shrimpy. Just a taste. I promise it won’t hurt."

The pressure is mounting. They are pushing you to stay, to partake in their feast, and the atmosphere thickens with their silent insistence. Malleus’s eyes bore into you with a knowing gaze, his hand extending with a glass of the viscous red liquid. "Just a sip, if you please."

Every attempt to excuse yourself only seems to make their eyes narrow further, their smiles widen just a little more. The eerie calm of the feast surrounds you.

It is when you see the meat properly that you made up your mind to escape. It is in someone's plate, you do not know who.

It's in the shape of a finger. A charred fingernail dipped in red.

Floyd let out a yelp as you finally push him off of you, your steps quickening as you trace back where you came from: The path to Ramshackle dorm.

You heard Jade reprimand Floyd, the latter angry when you pushed him: How dare you Shrimpy was all you heard before you were out of their sight and you're running back, panting, to your safe space, Ramshackle.

Only to pause as Crowley stands in the steps of your door. His mask drowning the glint of yellow from holes that was supposed to be his eyes.

What... what the fuck.

Crowley approached you slowly, as if he's reaching out to a wounded prey, this is the first time you've ever seen him serious. You take a step back, should you run in the other direction? Where will you escape, Heartslabyul? Will they take you in there?

The headmaster let out a sigh, "My students here at Night Raven should perhaps know kindness from their teacher," he declared dramatically. Then he gave you pouch, full of madol. Thaumarks.

This is a bribe. Crowley is bribing you.

"Our little secret, alright?"

You blinked. What...?

"A little compensation for your troubles, for I am truly kind."

He then disappear, leaving you stunned.

At exactly 3:33 AM, a realization hit you. You are in the company of creatures far more dangerous than you ever imagined, their monstrous forms hidden just beneath the surface. One wrong step, one mistake, it can all come down. Crumbling to pieces.

It is inside when your knees give out, you slide through the door of the Ramshackle, too weak to stand anymore.

This is the truth: you are in the company of creatures mimicking humans, their monstrous forms hidden just beneath the normal exterior. But what terrifies you most is not the thought of what they are—but the thought that, perhaps, they see you as something less than human too.

The truth of what they were—what they really were—lurked just out of reach, like a shadow at the corner of your vision, waiting to pounce the moment you let your guard down.

But you knew better. Something had changed.

And as you sit there, the only protection you have are rotting woods that make up your dorm. You are just within the circle of monstrous beings in their friendly human skins. You are a magic-less, pathetic alien.

For in a world filled with monsters hiding in plain sight, the only question that remained was this:

What would happen when they decided they were tired of pretending?

Perhaps you will find out soon.

[novaursa]

req for an aegon ii x reader who has a similar role of margaery tyrell? (love-bombing him so they can be betrothed and stuff)

she very easily manipulates aegon and basically uses his mommy issues to get whtv she wants (obviously bothers alicent to no end).

Web of Gold

Requests are closed!

- Summary: Alicent could only watch as you handle her son like a lioness who plays with her food.

- Paring: lannister!reader/Aegon II Targaryen

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Next part: aegon in love

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

It’s a beautiful morning, yet the tension between you and Alicent Hightower crackles like a summer storm. You can feel her eyes boring into you from across the room, but you’ve become quite accustomed to her watchful glares. If anything, you thrive on them.

You smile sweetly, dipping your head toward Aegon as he lounges on the Iron Throne, looking far more relaxed than any king should. He’s watching you with that same eager gleam in his eyes, waiting for whatever praise you’ll offer him next. It’s become a game for you at this point—how much can you say before he completely melts? And it’s easier than it should be.

"My king," you say softly, stepping closer, your golden Lannister curls bouncing as you move. "You look especially regal today. Like Aegon the Conqueror himself reborn. Do you know what I see when I look at you?"

Aegon straightens slightly, his eyes widening with interest. "What?" His tone is eager, as though whatever you say might be the single most important revelation of his life.

"I see a man destined for greatness. Aegon, you are so strong, so powerful, and—" you let your voice drop into a breathy whisper, "so very wise." You emphasize each word, drawing out your compliments in a way that sends a flush of pride creeping up his neck.

Aegon shifts in his seat, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. "Do you really think so, Y/N?" he asks, his voice almost boyish, seeking that reassurance from you.

"Of course I do, darling. And I would never lie to you." You reach out, letting your fingers brush against his hand in a gentle, lingering touch, just enough to make his breath hitch. "Unlike others who may have their own agendas…" You throw a quick glance toward where Alicent stands, her expression tight, lips pressed thin. The corner of your mouth twitches into a hidden smirk.

Aegon doesn’t notice. He’s too busy basking in the attention you're lavishing on him. "Mother just worries," he mumbles, though even he seems half-hearted about it.

"Worries?" You tilt your head, feigning innocence. "I think she underestimates you, my love. You’ve already proven yourself to be a far better ruler than anyone could have imagined. I can’t imagine why she continues to hover over you like you’re still a boy."

You know exactly why. Alicent cannot stand the idea of you influencing her son. It grates on her to see Aegon so smitten, so easily swayed by your honeyed words. But that’s precisely what you’re counting on.

Aegon chuckles, clearly amused. "She just doesn’t understand, does she?"

"She doesn’t," you agree, leaning in closer so your voice is only for him. "But I do." You place your hand on his chest, right over his heart. "I see you for the man you are, Aegon. A man who doesn’t need his mother whispering in his ear, telling him what to do. You’re king now. You should be able to make your own decisions. Isn’t that what you want?"

Aegon’s eyes flicker with something—desire, admiration, a need for validation. "Yes," he says, his voice firm, though you know it’s more out of wanting to please you than actual conviction. "That is what I want."

You smile, letting your fingers trail lightly down his chest before stepping back, your eyes sparkling with the satisfaction of a job well done. "Then take what’s yours, my king. Trust yourself. Trust me." You cast another glance toward Alicent, who looks like she’s about to bite through her tongue.

She’s always there, lurking like a shadow, trying to pull Aegon back into her grasp. But he slips through her fingers every time you’re around. Alicent has power, but you? You have Aegon. And he doesn’t even realize it.

You turn to face the queen mother, giving her a radiant smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. "Your Grace, you must be so proud of Aegon," you say, your voice saccharine sweet, as though you’re not fully aware of the tension between you. "He’s grown into such a strong man under your care."

Alicent stiffens, her lips twitching in a forced smile. "He has always been capable," she says, her tone clipped. "Though I think he still benefits from wise counsel."

You tilt your head, pretending to consider her words, though you already know exactly how to respond. "Of course," you agree, "but I think he’s ready to make his own choices now. Don’t you?" You let the question hang in the air, a gentle reminder that Aegon is your king now, not hers.

Alicent opens her mouth to reply, but Aegon cuts in before she can get a word out. "Mother, Y/N’s right. I don’t need to be told what to do all the time." He laughs, clearly proud of himself for standing up to her, oblivious to the fact that he’s only echoing your words.

You beam at him, eyes sparkling. "Exactly, my love. You are your own man. And no one, not even your mother, can take that from you."

Alicent’s gaze narrows, and for a moment, you think she might say something sharp, but she bites her tongue. You know it’s eating her alive inside, watching Aegon slip further under your influence, but she can’t do anything about it. Not without making herself look overbearing in front of her son.

"Come, Aegon," you say lightly, turning back to him. "Let’s take a walk in the gardens. You could use some fresh air after sitting on that throne for so long."

Aegon rises eagerly, flashing you that boyish grin that only makes him seem more malleable. "Yes, let’s."

As you link your arm through his and lead him out of the hall, you don’t bother to look back at Alicent. You can already feel the weight of her stare burning into your back. You have Aegon wrapped around your finger, and she knows it.

But as long as you continue to feed his need for affection, for someone to praise him and treat him like the king he so desperately wants to believe he is, he will never stray far from your side. And Alicent can do nothing but watch.

[xan-izme]

Double Life 9 (ATSV x reader x Batfam)

summary: Are you going to let your pride get in the way of what matters most?

Part 8, Part 10

Damian was watching you and Miles from afar. It was clear you two were close. He was, a little jealous. But he was quick to brush it off. He knows there is a bond between you and Miles stronger than the one he has with you. So, he won't fuss about it.

"Damian right? you waiting for Y/n?" Rio suddenly came up behind Damian and handed him a cup of juice.

Damian takes the cup and thanks her. "Yes. . . Mrs. Moralas. Do you know any, Miguels involved with my sister?" Damian looked up at Rio, with an innocent curious face.

"Miguel . . . Miguel? No. No, I don't think so? Why?" Rio hoped it wasn't some boy she was involved with.

"Just, wondering."

Bruce was staring at the graffiti art of your mother. He felt, sadness, guilt. Sad because he was too late to be there for you and your mother. Failed to support your mother when she probably needed it the most. Guilty, because he could probably never love your mother as strongly as you do.

He glanced over to where you and your cousin were standing. That was when he sees you actually letting your guard down completely. You looked so, tired. Like the heavy burden he sees you with, doubled by a ton. Yet, you seemed peaceful. Maybe because, your cousin seems to share the same look as you did.

He knew those looks. For a second. a suspicion creeped into his mind. But he was quick to shake it off.

'Impossible'

he would think to himself as he lets out a low chuckle. What a silly thought.

The party ended and you and the Waynes stayed behind to help clean and what not. Bruce got to see a lot of your baby pictures thanks to Rio and Jeff.

It was pretty fun, spending time with both families. Even Jason was being tolerable. While everyone was interacting with each other in the living room, Damian slipped away. decided to explore down the halls of the apartment. Pictures of you and Miles on the walls. Family trips, graduation. Every achievement framed and hanged on the walls.

Damian eventually found Miles room. The door was left slightly ajar. He would usually just go in and snoop around. But something was holding him back.

"Hey."

Suddenly Jason was behind him. Catching him off guard while he was deep in thought.

"Todd. What are you doing?" Damian spoke firmly as he glared up at the older. Jason just shrugged and chuckled "Doing the same as you. Taking a look around of course." Jason pushed past the younger boy and entered the bedroom.

Scanning the room, seemingly trying to search for something.

Damian frowns deeply and stomped into the room. "We shouldn't be in here."

Jason scoffs as he picked up a photo of you and Miles together. Dressed in your Sunday best. Smiling without a care in the world.

"Scared your big sis will get mad at you?" Jason mumbled as he set the photo face down back on the table. His eyes scan the desk. Drawings. He walked up to the desk and picked up the papers. shuffling them. looks like drawings of suits. Super suits to be specific.

Spider womans suits to be more specific.

It didn't look like some fanart or just little doodles. These were details. Upgrades with little gadgets.

"He's in on it." Jason mumbled to himself. Realizing your cousin Miles knows your secret. This gives Jason a lot of more information on you now. Proving some theories he had of you. And changing some others.

Damian just stood behind Jason. He didn't understand what Jason said. Nor did he care.

"Stop it Todd. This is an invasion of our hosts privacy." Damian demanded. Jason couldn't help but scoff humorously once again

"Cheap coming from you."

Suddenly two shadows from the open door were noticed by Damian. Before Damian can turn around. A deep voice spoke.

"You should listen to the kid."

When Jason and Damian turn to the door. They were greeted by you and Miles leaning on each side of the doorframe. Glaring at the both of them with cold stoic looks. Your glare was mainly aimed at Jason.

"Y/n I-" Damian was panicking a little. You walked into the room an put your hand on his shoulder. Giving him a small smile. Not the sweet one you usually give him. You were giving him the smile that looked empty.

"Go back and join the others cupcake." You ruffled his head and nudged him along out of the room. You signaled Miles to go along with Damian just in case he wonders off.

"Your cousin a fan of Spider woman? Does he know about-" Jason held up the paper drawings. You snatched the drawings out of his hand with a scowl, you roughly grabbed him by his collar and held him up the ground with your super strength.

"Whoa whoa!" Jason held up his hands in surrender, but he still had that damn smirk on his face. He was enjoying seeing that he pissed you off.

"We made a deal. I suggest you stick to that only." Your tone was an uneasy calmness as you spoke. You carelessly dropped Jason and stormed out of the room.

Jason huffed in annoyance, getting off the floor. You just gave him a warning.

It was time to leave and get back to Gotham. Bruce and the boys were heading back to the limo as you were saying your goodbyes. You and Miles gave each other a tight hug. You sighed as you pulled away. A sad look in your eyes.

"What?" Miles knows somethings wrong. You just, stared at him while holding him by his shoulders. The kind of look that seems far away.

"Nothing. . . love you, bye." You gave a small smile gently cupping one side of his face before letting go. Miles chuckled and smiled back.

"Bye!" He waved as you walked to the limo.

Back at Gotham. It was late in the night. You had gotten an alert from the watch. An anomaly showed up. In Gotham. You were quick. You took out the anomaly before it could do any serious damage.

But before you could get back to the Wayne mansion. You got another alert. You took care of it. Then another showed up.

It wasn't till the sun began to come up did you finally get back to the mansion. You haven't had a night like that in a while. As you laid in bed. Gwen came to mind. Her words.

Her warning of how Miles and Aaron not being able to be your replacement for long.

The anomalies were getting stronger. The more you just laid there and thought about it, the more fear began to creep into your mind. The possibility of losing Miles and Aaron. So many possibilities. Dear God, did it scare you.

You needed help. And you knew the Spider Society could help. But you were too prideful to go back to them. Selfish, you know.

You sighed and sat up from your bed. You grabbed your phone. Instantly greeted with your lockscreen of you and Miles. You stared at it for a moment. His smile. He was always the more joyful one between the two of you.

". . ."

You love Miles. You really do. But you just, can't physically bring yourself to reach out to the Society for help.

[sanguineterrain]

angel of small death | jason todd

Summary: You can't remember what it was like to be human. Until Jason returns. Now, he's the only thing tethering you to this world. And you won't let anything happen to him.

Pairing: Jason Todd x shadow monster!gn!reader

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings/tags: monster!reader, canon-typical violence, codependency, reader attacks Batman, reader accidentally hurts Jason, stalking, suicidal thoughts, crying, hurt/comfort, somewhat happy ending.

A/N: I wrote this in a day so if there are any grammar mistakes please feel free to lmk!

the divider

You feel it when Jason returns. 

No one else seems to. The Bat (his… family?) doesn’t sense anything is different, but you do. 

And just as quickly as you feel him, he’s lost. His grave is empty. You scour Gotham for him, his body, anything. But he’s gone. Stolen. 

If you were more powerful, free from this wretched body, you would find him. Hunt down whoever took him, then bring him back to Gotham, so he might rest. 

For a short day, your limbs had felt like flesh. The void that is your mouth had smiled. You were human again. 

Jason is lost. You scream in mourning. 

He’s back. 

You’re awake.

“Go through the side!”

Hood’s men scramble to obey, armed and ready. They’ve planned this ambush for three and a half weeks. Black Mask made himself scarce after Hood made it clear he wouldn’t leave him alone. You watched in pride and worry as Jason threw himself into his revenge. 

He’s stronger than in your memory. He’s big, bigger than most opponents. Bigger than the Bat. He’s good with a weapon. Good in combat. Scarred all over. Brutal. 

But he’s angry and hurt, and he’s human. He may have the Pit inside of him, but he is no monster. You would know.

The Bat is hunting him. You will tear him apart, if necessary. You will tear apart anyone who hurts Jason. 

You slip through the shadows, letting your limbs stretch as long as they can. They make awful shrieking noises when you stretch too far, and it makes the men below nervous. 

One of Jason’s men looks right at you. You look back. He gasps and runs back to the van.

These men are loyal but they’re nowhere near strong enough to protect Jason. You’d prefer to eat them all, but Jason seems to trust them. So you gut a lackey in a clown mask and silently remain on the highest balcony across the street from Black Mask’s lair.

Once, you permitted yourself to watch Jason in his apartment, in his bed, while he slept. He cried through a nightmare. You tried to chase the nightmare away, but you’d only made it worse. He awakened, sweating and gasping, and screamed as soon as he saw you.

You haven’t revealed yourself since. 

You are lonely. You want to die. You’ve wanted to die for a long time. 

But you won’t. Not before you see Jason home safe.

Automatic gunfire echoes from the lair. You rush to the unlit side of the building. You peer in through the window. 

It’s mostly Black Mask’s men on the floor, bleeding. You slip inside to eat the death. 

“The fuck is that?!”

You look up just as three bullets pass through you. You scowl at the offending gunman, who drops his gun and runs. Rude. 

You wouldn’t normally enter like this, make your presence so obvious. If someone were looking for you, they could easily track you after tonight.

But nothing matters except Jason. 

There’s shouting outside. You soar to the ceiling and through the skylight. 

“Shit, shit, fuck! Boss! Boss, you alright?”

“Shut the fuck up, Garett,” Jason says, helmeted head lolling against the brick. Three of his men crowd him.

You speed to the shadow, carefully avoiding the light casted by the overhead streetlight. You’ve stepped in one before and the fluorescent lights sting.

Jason is bleeding from his gut, where his armor separates to allow movement. 

You creep closer. If you still had a heart, it would beat fast. You remember how it felt. You don’t feel fear often these days, but now you know for sure that it was never gone.

You scream.

The streetlight shatters. Jason and his men cover their ears, shouting in pain. His men start to bleed from their ears. It doesn’t take much for you to strike them down, knock them into a fitful slumber.

“Who’s there?”

Jason immediately pulls out his gun, despite his injury. You try to stay on his side, so he won’t have to see your yellow, bottomless eyes. You’d close your eyes if you weren’t so afraid of hurting Jason further.

“I ain’t scared of you!” he says, and you’d be inclined to believe him if your teeth weren’t peeking out at the scent of his fear.

You swallow and focus on his injury. You stretch your fingers to two thin points. Then you reach into his stomach and pull out the bullet.

Jason yells in pain and fires. You ignore it and keep going. 

“Sssssss-sssor–ry,” you rasp.

Jason turns his head and looks right at you. He panics, trying to squirm away. You quickly hold him down so your fingers won’t rip through his intestine.

“Let go a’me! Let go!” 

He fires until the cartridge is empty. You are crying. 

“Sss-sssor-sssorry.” Then you sear Jason’s wound closed. 

That’s when he passes out, the pain overwhelming him. Black tears run down your face and join the dark. 

As soon as the wound is cauterized, you slink to the darkest corner of the city, inside an abandoned warehouse. 

You let yourself grow into your full form, showing your claws and exposed tendons and the hole in your chest.

Then you cry, cry, cry. The windows explode, the bricks become dust, and still, you cry into the rubble. You cry until morning.

You can’t stop.

You should. You’re fearsome and ugly and Jason is already entrenched in grief. You’ll only make him worse.

But after the ambush, you can’t rest. You have tried to return to the dirt, to where you had lain for so long. You swim to the bottom of the ocean and try to sleep with the creatures there. That doesn’t work either. 

So you follow Jason instead. You follow him every night on patrol. You snipe anyone who gets too close, intending to harm. Jason returns home with a full magazine, most nights. You know he should take care of his adversaries on his own to keep in practice, but you throw up iridescent black oil when you try to let go and not protect him. 

“I know you’re there.”

You’re crouched on an apartment’s fire escape two stories above. Jason has stopped. He’s been frozen for several minutes. 

You look around, trying to find who Jason sees. But the alley is empty. 

“I know…” Jason takes a shaky breath. “I know you’re there. I feel ya watchin’ me.”

Then he takes off his helmet and tosses it aside. He takes off his holsters and removes his knives and tasers and drops those next to his helmet.

You crawl on all fours down the apartment building, claws scraping the brick. You can smell his fear from here. 

You rattle a loose screw at the end of your climb. Jason turns in your direction. He gasps, eyes wide. 

You freeze. Neither of you move for a long minute.

“You’ve been followin’ me,” he says. 

You nod. You’re not sure if he can see you in the dark.

“Who—what are you?”

You crawl closer. Jason wants to move away, you can tell, but he doesn’t.

On your hands, you come up to his head. You wish you could make yourself smaller.

Jason swallows hard, chest rising and falling quickly.

You’re not good at speaking. You used to be. Used to have all the words. Now they’re gone. Your tongue is too big for your mouth.

“I feel… shit, I feel like I know ya,” he says. “You know me?”

“Rrrrrrrob–rrobiiii—robiiiiin.”

He inhales sharply. “Yeah. You knew me then?”

You reach for him. Careful. So careful. You use the blunt side of your claw to touch Jason’s scarred cheek. He’s so warm. So full of light. 

He steps back. Your hand falls. 

You start to cry. You can’t help it. 

Your claws dig into the pavement, tearing through asphalt. 

“Waaaan–wantttttt. Tttt. Jaaaayy. WAN—TTTT. WA—JAY. WANNN—”

You try to speak softly, but it comes out like a shriek. Jason grunts in pain, covering his ears. Red seeps through his fingers. 

You stumble backwards at the sight. You must go. You must try again and see if the ocean will take you.

“Wait! Wait, wait!”

Jason runs around, holding up his hands in front of you. You stop, black tears pooling into a puddle at his feet.

“It’s okay. It’s alright. I know you.”

You want to speak but you’ll hurt him if you do. So you cry in silence. Jason waits.

“‘S okay,” he says again. “You didn’t do it on purpose. Shh, shh. Don’t cry.”

His fear is lessened. Not gone, but not grown. 

“Hey,” he says softly. “Hey, honey.”

The tears keep falling. Jason keeps waiting. 

“‘Course I remember ya,” he says, and pets you where your cheek should be. “How could I forget you?”

You moan quietly. It doesn’t hurt Jason this time.

The night that the Bat finds Jason brings a thunderstorm with it.

You’ve followed Jason for weeks now. He’s no longer afraid when he catches glimpses of your endless mouth and shapeless eyes. Sometimes, on patrol, you get nervous. When you’re too close to people, to noise, you get restless. You want to run, but you can’t, because Jason will be alone. And so will you. 

Jason has begun to hum when you get nervous. You get closer when he does, looming over him, but he no longer smells like fear.

“Y’smell like peaches, y’know that?” he’d said a few weeks ago. 

You’d just pitched your head lower to show you were listening. 

“Yeah,” Jason had said. “Like peach pie. I was so confused the night you removed the bullet. Craved peach pie for days. Ain’t that the weirdest shit you’ve ever heard?”

Honestly, yes. After everything, that is definitely the weird part.

“Gooo—g-g…” You’d swallowed, frustrated. Jason had hummed.

“‘S okay,” he’d said. “‘M listening. Take your time.”

So you’d tried again. “G-good?” 

“Yeah, honey. Oh, yeah. So good. You’re so good.”

That hadn’t been what you meant. But you’d gotten the feeling Jason knew what you were asking and decided to answer another question anyway.

It’s pouring tonight. The rain doesn’t bother you, but if lightning starts, you may have to retire for tonight. 

That’s only in an extreme circumstance, however. For now, you’re right there with Jason. 

“Shit, ‘s really comin’ down, huh!” Jason shouts over the rain. 

He swings to a rooftop and almost slips on water. You rush to him, but he holds up a hand, laughing.

“‘M fine, ‘m fine. I gotta finish the southside. You can dip if you want.”

You don’t respond. Jason sighs.

“Alright, fine. C’mon.”

You’re two blocks into the southside when a dark blob lands in front of Jason. You stay hidden, eyes sharp. 

The blob is a man. The Bat. 

“Jason,” Batman says. Jason stiffens.

You feel a screech working its way out, but you stop it for Jason’s sake. You will intervene if he needs help.

Both of their fear levels have shot up. 

The Bat steps forward. “You lied to me, Jason. I can’t believe it’s you going around Gotham killing—”

“Oh, you can’t?” Jason spits. “You can’t believe your little bird that’s back from the dead is angry that no one fuckin’ cleaned up this city? The clown is still alive, Bruce!”

Thunder cracks the sky. You stay silent, keeping your grip on the side of the building light. You’d offered to kill the Joker for Jason. Ki–lllll clo–own? K–ill?

But Jason had told you no. Had said that it wasn’t your responsibility. So you’d refrained. 

The Bat is quiet for a moment. Then, “I’m sorry, Jason. I know you’re upset, but—”

“Fuck you. I don’t wanna hear your attempts at peacemaking. I’m not gonna stop no matter what you say.”

“Jason,” the Bat says. “You have to stop killing.”

“The only way I’m gonna stop is if you kill me.”

You scramble down as soon as you hear armor clash. A batarang strikes Jason’s chestplate. Jason’s increasingly aggressive, forcing the Bat to defend himself harder. 

Thunder strikes again. Jason knows all of the Bat’s weak points. And while the Bat is distracted, it doesn’t stop him from fighting well.

The moment the Bat draws blood, you stalk out of hiding and howl.

Three streetlights explode as you grow to your full, terrifying size. Both the Bat and Jason cover their ears. You slam the Bat down on the ground, claws shredding his cape and suit. You’re furious. You will kill.

One of your claws punctures the Bat’s thigh. He shouts in pain. You’ll tear him apart for making Jason bleed.

Rain beats down on you. You heave over the Bat, shaking with fury. 

“Stop! Fuck, fuck. Stop it!”

Jason pulls at your arm, which is nearly the size of his entire body. His helmet is cracked, his exposed eye bloodshot. That rekindles your anger, but Jason quickly intercepts. 

“Stop, please. It’s okay. I’m okay. Don’t kill him, please. Don’t kill.”

“Miiiiii—m—miiii-ine. Mine.”

Jason nods. He pulls off his helmet and tosses it. 

“Yeah, yeah, I am. I’m yours. He’s not gonna take me away from ya. He wouldn’t kill me.”

The Bat coughs, spitting blood. “N-never.”

"Mine," you say, tremulous, blood under your claws. "My Robin."

Jason shakes you. "Yours. I'm yours. C’mon, peach. C’mon, love.”

It would be so easy to end it now. End you and the Bat. And you would do it if you didn’t think it would end Jason too.

His fear is high. You pull your claw out of the Bat, who groans. You let Jason lead you away. He holds your darkness.

“Scaaaar—sc-ared. Scare-d?”

“Yeah,” Jason admits. “Little bit.”

You close your eyes. “Ba-ad.”

“No, honey. You’re not bad. You’re scared.”

You dig your claws into the roof, cracking the concrete. You let yourself shrink, so Jason can wrap his arms around your neck. You don’t trust yourself enough to touch him back. 

He’s crying. Jason is crying.

You pull back a little, so you can see his face. 

“Cr-y,” you say, feeling like weeping yourself. “Cry cr-y c-ry.”

You want to say so much more, but you can’t. Your words are gone. You know Jason doesn’t judge you for that, but you need to tell him. Tell him how you feel.

You lick Jason’s cheeks. They taste like salt and rainwater. You lick more. Lick until he stops crying.

“Son,” the Bat says behind you. 

“‘S okay, B,” Jason says. 

Rain drips down his face and suit. He’s beginning to shiver. You try to shield him as best as you can. 

“We’re okay,” Jason says, this time just to you.

“Sc-scaare—”

“No, no. Hey, peach. ‘M not scared. Y’hear me?”

You slowly drape your arms over Jason’s back. He strokes your wrist that droops and stretches unnaturally. 

“Yeah. You know me. I’ve never been afraid of the dark.”

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

postwar!Levi absolutely chafes under enforced bedrest, unfamiliar and uncomfortable with doing nothing

his useless legs feel like cinderblocks holding the waterlogged sack of his body to a riverbed, drowning slow

his nervous system hasn’t caught up to the uneasy peace, flooding his veins with adrenaline that has nowhere to go, leaving him gasping for air and sick over the side of his bed

he can’t clean the mess, and that might be the worst thing of all, the helpless wait for someone to witness his weakness

postwar!Levi can’t tell his fevered dreams from reality, follows the green smudge of Erwin’s cloak across an endless battlefield, calls to his commander till he’s lost his voice and wakes up tasting copper

the people who come to check on him are not who he wants to see- why hasn’t Hange visited, changing his bandages with their steady hands?

he leads Isabel and Furlan up a set of stairs that never seem to end, crunching over the hollow bones of birds that died searching for the sky

postwar!Levi finds his clarity has returned one featureless morning and he weeps for the first time since the battle of heaven and earth, mourns the loss of the delirium that had left the door open for his loved ones to creep through

he begins to recognize the recurring figures at his bedside, the gentle touch on his forehead that signals your arrival with water or blankets or bread

the light of anything more than a candle burns his blind eye, so he learns your face only by the flicker of firelight, the absence of shadow

postwar!Levi is desperate for something to occupy his fractured mind, painfully empty without the urgency of strategizing survival

you hide your surprise when he asks you to read to him in a voice rasped with disuse, saying he doesn’t care what it is, just something to focus on outside of himself, and you understand

you begin to visit him every evening, reading softly from your favorite books as he lies taut and silent in bed, brow furrowed in concentration, breathing through the pain that wracks his battered body

postwar!Levi finds unlikely comfort in your voice, your consistent presence, the slow walks along the winding paths of the stories you tell him

you take a quiet pride in the way he seems to soften each night, just barely, the deep black shadows under his haunted eyes fading into the color of an old bruise, his furrowed brow smoothing into satin as you read

postwar!Levi is sitting up when you arrive one evening, gives you the barest incline of his head in self-conscious greeting

he frowns and shrugs off your praise for his progress, doesn’t want to hear of how miraculous it is that he can heave his once-superhuman body up against the headboard, doesn’t confess how long it took or how much it hurt

he does, however, ask you for tea, not telling you that it would be the first time he’s accepted a cup he hadn’t prepared himself, swallowing a sick resignation with the request

postwar!Levi makes eye contact with you for the first time when he offers gruff thanks, shivering as your fingertips brush around the warm ceramic

something clenches in your chest and you turn away to hide it, occupying yourself with invisible specks of dust on his bedspread

you’re busy swiping the corner of your apron over the nightstand and miss the way his eyes go wide, then soften as he watches you bustle around him

“it’s alright. you don’t have to-” “-I know.”

the two of you speak at the same time, fall into the same embarrassed silence, watching each other warily in the low candlelight

your shadows overlap where they are thrown onto the wall as if they don’t realize the distance between the bodies that grew them, or refuse to recognize it at all

[thesecondhandwoman]

Going off of the injured Ambessa ask, could you do something where the reader is injured. But their a soldier so it’s really bad and their trying to play it off but Ambessa can tell it’s bad. (Maybe throw in a little hidden injury and “who did this to you?)

if your not up for it I completely understand

-🧚

HIDDEN INJURIES

Ambessa x f!reader

Synopsis: You were one of Ambessa’s Noxian soldiers, and the favorite one of them all. However, when you got injured and struggled to hide it, you thought that might title change.

Request: Anon 🤍

The night air was thick with the scent of Noxus and its empire, the distant hum of a city brimming with life. Meanwhile, you did not feel the same life that the other people shared.

You leaned against the stone wall of the barracks, doing your best to steady yourself, breathe shallow, heart hammering beneath your ribs. Your fingers lingered over the bandage, already stained with the remnants of blood that had dried too quickly. The injury was deeper than you’d let on, an ugly gash that cut across your lower abdomen after a clash with a particularly vicious opponent. You’d tended to it as best as you could, but it wasn’t enough. It never was.

The last few days had been a blur of dull pain and the stubbornness that coursed through your veins, a soldier’s pride that insisted you didn’t need help. You knew what Ambessa expected of you, what she needed you to be: strong, steady, and reliable.

You were her pet, her favored soldier, and above all, you couldn’t let that slip away dimpling because she sees your weakness. Not now. Not ever.

But that was growing harder to do.

With a grimace, you pushed off the wall and staggered back into the fortress, your movements stiff and slow, each step a reminder of how much the injury had begun to rot beneath the surface. You’d tried to hide it, kept it covered up, but something had gone wrong. The infection was spreading now, a subtle ache in your bones, a fever that coursed through your veins, making your body feel like it was being consumed by fire.

You hadn’t been able to hide it from Ambessa for long.

She was waiting for you in her chambers, reclining on a plush chaise, the shadows of candlelight casting an amber glow over her striking features. Her eyes, those fierce golden orbs, flicked up when you entered, and for a brief moment, the sharpness softened.

“Come here,” she beckoned with a subtle wave of her hand, her voice like velvet. She knew something was off, something subtle in the way you moved, the way you tried to stand straighter than you could, the way you winced when your side brushed the doorframe.

You swallowed hard, but obediently stepped toward her.

Ambessa’s eyes narrowed slightly, always keen to the smallest detail. She was no stranger to seeing soldiers in various states of pain. You weren’t the first one she’d taken an interest in, though you were the only one who seemed to matter to her in such a way. Her gaze lingered on you with concern, but her lips curled into a smirk as if to mask the worry creeping in. She raised an eyebrow, studying you, her gaze unwavering.

“Are you sure you’re well?” she asked, the softness of her voice belying the tension that was steadily rising in the room.

You hesitated, your chest tightening at the thought of her disappointment. “I’m fine, truly. It’s just a scratch,” you lied, the words tasting sour on your tongue.

She didn’t believe you for a second. Her eyes softened as she stood up and walked toward you, her footsteps like whispers on the stone floor. As she approached, you could feel her presence like a tangible thing, comforting yet demanding, a force to be reckoned with.

Without warning, her hand came to rest gently on your shoulder. You tensed, a sharp breath catching in your throat. She could feel the heat radiating off of you, could sense the trembling beneath your skin.

“You’ve been hiding something from me,” she murmured, her voice a low, soothing hum. Her thumb stroked lightly over the muscle of your shoulder, sending a shiver through your body. “I could hear it in your voice. Practically feel it radiating off of you.”

You bit the inside of your lip, trying not to show the frustration and guilt that bubbled up. “It’s nothing,” you said, forcing the words to sound as normal as you could. “I’ll recover. No need to—”

“Let me see it,” she interrupted, her voice no longer a request but an order.

Your eyes darted down, and for a moment, you felt a surge of panic. You knew she could be patient, but when she wanted something, she didn’t let it go. Slowly, you reached for the sides of your tunic, fingers fumbling for the fabric that hid the injury.

Ambessa didn’t speak, only stood quietly, watching you with those steady, unwavering eyes as you pulled the fabric up. When you turned slightly to expose the injury on your side, she took in the sight of the angry, red, infected wound with a sharp intake of breath.

“Gods, how long has this been festering?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous now, the tenderness gone. Her fingers ghosted over the edge of the injury, and you flinched, unable to keep the hiss of pain from escaping.

You tried to hide it, tried to play it off as you always did. “It’s not as bad as it looks. I’ll be fine.”

Ambessa’s gaze turned hard, and for the first time in days, you saw the faint flicker of worry behind her gaze. Her hand was soft on your skin, but the concern in her eyes was sharp, like a blade waiting to cut through your excuses.

“Don’t lie to me,” she whispered, her fingers now tracing the ugly colored skin around the wound that was farther from the edges, careful but firm. “You should have come to me sooner. You’re not as invincible as you force yourself to be.”

Her words hit harder than you expected, and for a moment, you let the facade slip. The pain, the fatigue, the overwhelming sense of failure—it all came crashing down. But Ambessa didn’t let you fall. She stepped closer, her presence grounding you, like she always did when you needed her most.

“You’ll need help, this wound is far too infected,” she said, her tone brokering no argument. “Meaning you will rest for some time and take a break from your duties for me, hm?”

You were too tired to argue. Too tired to fight against the kindness you didn’t deserve. Slowly, you nodded, letting her help you remove the rest of your tunic. She gently pressed you back onto the bed, her hands so soft, yet somehow so strong. You felt her steady gaze on you as she began to clean the wound, carefully, expertly, removing the infected tissue with practiced hands.

Her voice, as soft as a lullaby, hummed in your ear. “I don’t want to hear about you being ‘fine’ again. You’re mine now, and when you’re mine, I take care of what’s mine. Understood?”

Her fingers were gentle, the motions slow and deliberate, as if every action was designed to keep you grounded. Despite the pain of her tending to the injury, you felt your body relax into her touch, the feverish burn inside of you easing just a little.

“Yes, I understand,” you whispered, your voice a fragile thing.

“Good.” Her voice was low and approving as she finished cleaning the wound and began bandaging it with care. “Now, rest. I’ll stay with you until you’re better, little one.”

You closed your eyes, the weight of exhaustion pulling you down, but her presence kept you tethered, warm and solid. For the first time in days, you let yourself fall into that comfort, that fragile space between pain and safety.

As she finished tending to you, her fingers lingering on your skin with a soft caress, you could hear the faintest smile in her voice.

“Let me take care of you now,” Ambessa murmured, her voice a soft promise. “No more pretending. Not here.”

And for the first time in days, you let yourself believe that perhaps, just perhaps, you didn’t have to be the soldier anymore. Not in her presence. Not when you were with her.

A/N: Sorry that this is so short, I tried to expand it and it just turned into an absolute mess. So I shortened it down just to realize how much I shortened it. But either way, I hope that you liked it and it was okay (if not, I’ll definitely give it another shot)

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Tim Drake: Ugly Duckling (dp x dc)

So this is the last day of pride month, and so also the last day of me trying to write as many LGBTQ+ canon dc characters. It’s been fun (and I got to read a whole bunch of comics which was actually much more fun than the first time I’d tried to read those!!)

Now even though this is the end of June, feel free to send an ask if you want me to write a blurb with any character. I make no promises, but I will very much try! (It might take a while especially if I’m in a Tumblr hibernation phase.)

Anyways, for the last day of pride month I wanted to do Tim Drake coz he’s dc’s main “it” gay girl. I’ve been working on this Dead Tired fic for ages, based on the post about Tim getting turned into a swan and meeting Danny, who as a prince has to give him a kiss to change him back (I can’t find the prompt but it was hilarious so this was my take on it).

Here’s the beginning of the fic:

Red Robin was on patrol duty, while Batman and Robin were following a lead on possible joker safehouses. All in all, It was a pretty quiet night with only two muggings, both low-energy as both perpetrator ran away as soon as a bat-shaped shadow moved. 

So Red Robin had spent most of the night chatting with Babs. He was grappling around town, as they started on the new date app they’d both found out Jason was using.

“I told him he can’t put only photos of his motorcycle but- wait I’m getting a call,” Oracle interrupted herself. Tim waited before the earpiece came to life again.

“Sorry to cut this short Red Robin, got a full-attention request from Canary. If you need anything, beep me, and Keep your coms open.”

“Bye, Oracle,” he said, and like that, Red Robin was alone once again.

 He stopped on Grand Avenue Station and just let himself take in Gotham. The city was beautiful at night, and Tim was itching for a camera. He seen hundreds of pictures of the city’s skyline but they always managed to be unique. The night sky may always be covered by dark clouds above, but Gotham had its own stars in the lights shinning on top of the skyscrapers. So lost in his thoughts, Tim was, he almost missed the soft noise that sounded behind him. The voice that sounded behind him was harder to miss.

“Wither away so late, Little Red Bird?”

Red Robin turned to see a tall woman standing half in the shadows

“Sorry, can I help you?” Answered the vigilante despite the bad feeling creeping up to him.

“I’d like to know where I can find your guardian,” the woman said, still in the shadows.

“You mean Batman?” He chanced.

The woman nodded and Tim resisted the urge to sigh.If this was another one of Bruce’s ill-advised fling, Tim was going to hack every electronic device the man had to play sex-eds on loops for at least a week.

“He’s busy at the moment.” Then feeling like he shouldn’t assume what the woman wanted Bruce for, he continued. “But if you need any help, I’ll do my best.”

The woman stepped forward, and Tim could see her better. Her face was bare, but her distinctive outfit seemed to indicate she was some kind of vigilante-slash-criminal. The outfit did, in fact, ring a bell in the back of his mind, but it was dim. Tim didn’t tense up, but he did angle his body in a way to accommodate for a better escape through grappling. She continued walking until she was within arm’s reach of Tim, towering over him. She extended a hand to lightly caress his cheek, and Tim went still at the touch.

“Such a kind Little Bird you are,” she said gently. “You know, you remind me of my daughter.” She sighed. “Oh, what pretty children you both are.”

“Thank you,” said Tim as he sidestepped out of the way. “I’m sure she’s a lovely person.”

“Oh she was,” the woman said and through his growing wariness, Tim spared a thought for the girl. “She had dark hair and the fairest skin, just like you. The most beautiful girl in the land some would even say.”

That niggling feeling came back as a feeling of familiarity poked at him once again. “You must’ve been very proud.”

The woman let out an airy laugh before saying playfully/contemplating. “mustn’t I?”

A shiver ran down his back. Alright, there was something wrong with this woman, and Tim wasn’t waiting around to find out what. Not without any information or backup.

“Well, if there’s nothing I can do for you, I really have to get going,” Tim said as he took out his grapple gun. In a second, the gun was ripped from his hand , and he was slammed to the side of the staircase leading up to the roof. He let out a gasp at the impact and his features tensed in pain. The woman hadn’t even touched him.

“Not so fast, Little Bird. We don’t want you going back to the Batman just yet.  I’m not ready to make him my Knight yet.”

“Your knight?” Tim managed to get out. He tried to move his arms, but some unseen force was pinning him in place. Shit, that meant he couldn’t reach the comm to send out a distress signal. Hopefully Babs would check in soon.

The woman smiled as she approached him once again. “What better for a Queen, than a Dark Knight?”

And just like that it clicked. “You’re the Queen of Fables.” 

“Well look at this, you’ve got the brains and the beauty,” she teased, her voice as smooth as honey.

“What do you want with Batman?” Tim asked though he could guess from previous encounters she had had with the Justice League that the villainess wanted to turn Bruce into a fairytale character of some sort. She’d done the trick on Clark, and twice on Diana, so it was probably Batman’s turn now. So, yes, Tim could guess, But the longer he kept her talking the more time he had to figure out a way out of this.

“I told you, he’ll be a Knight of the Queen,” She extended a hand and tilted Tim’s face up. “Do you know what that would make you Little Bird?” 

Most villains assumed the batclan worked like a crime family. So the family of a knight? “Nobility,” Tim guessed, unsure where this was going.

“Exactly.” She smiled, and then she moved. Tim braced for the hit.

Instead of a punch though, he only felt a tingling sensation. Cautiously, he opened his eyes, only for them to grow bigger as he took in his uniform. Or the lack thereof.

He was in something-century clothing, in some sort of frilly shirt and pants, all in white. This was worse than a punch. Then, as the thought hit him, Tim’s hands flew to his face only to come in contact with the silky fabric of a masquerade mask. He sighed in relief, and as he calmed down, he realized he was now free of the force pinning him down.

“The color is for my daughter,” the Queen said. Then, she let her head fall to the side before tracing a line across his forehead and Tim could feel something like a circlet setting down on it. “There you go. Now, it’s perfect. You could practically be siblings.” 

“No thanks.,” Tim answered.

The Queen tsked him. “That’s no way to behave Little Bird, has nobody taught you to say thank you when you receive a gift.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” Tim disagreed mildly as he took stock of his weapons. Everything was gone, including the earpiece, which meant Babs had to have been alerted and someone was en route.

The Queen frowned. “I was going to be merciful, for you guardian’s sake, but I no longer feel generous.” She raised her hand and Tim tried to roll away, but the magic beam swerved and hit him in a blinding flash of light.

When he managed to open his eyes once again, the world seemed quite a bit bigger than it had been moments before. 

“What did you do to me?” He said. Or tried to say.

Instead a strange squawk echoed and Tim took a step back in surprise. However, he lost his balance and started to fall and as he tried to catch himself with his hand, two large white wings unfolded. He dropped down, which wasn’t as far as he would’ve estimated and laid stiff. He moved his left arm, and a white wing followed suit. 

Oh, no. Oh no no no.

A grating laugh interrupted his freak out. “There you are my pretty Little Bird, all better. White really is your colour, don’t you th-“

With a loud hiss, Tim propelled himself towards the woman. Making use of his newfound beak, he pecked and bit everything he could, as he flapped his wings.

“Blasted creature- Get off! Stop it, you despicable, puny-“ 

Finally she managed to grab Tim and throw him away from her. He landed with a squawk, but managed to get himself back to his feet quickly. “You little/awful brat,” she snarled. “You’ll pay for this!”

But as the Queen threw out her hand, something rippled in the air between them and the magic beam seem to explode midway into a green vortex. Tim’s clumsy attempt at waddling away had him head straight towards it, and it was in vain that he tried to redirect the course. She and Tim made eye contact as the swan-boy tipped right into the swirling green vortex, both of their eyes wide-open in surprise.

Danny was exhausted. He was currently on week one of the full month of Royal Duties he’d promised Clockwork. Being Prince of the Infinite Realm was not all that it was cracked up to be, and that was saying a lot since he had already been expecting it to be awful. 

When Clockwork had made the request, Danny had proceeded to freak out about his new status, and then tried to abdicate. It was only the master of time reminding him of all the terrible possible candidate for the throne per rites of combat (such as Vlad) that stopped him from washing his hands of this mess. And now Danny was forced to spend one whole month of his summer vacation in the Ghost Zone to fulfill his duty as a Prince. 

He thought it would be some paperwork, maybe a battle or two, nothing too bad, but nooo. Because, of course nothing was easy, Danny had to show up at Events, and be Diplomatic. It was meeting, after meeting, after weird parties that were a mix between Medieval Banquets and Debutante balls. 

And worse of all were the marriage proposals. Danny could sorta understand, marrying into royalty was a definite plus for a lot of more powerful ghosts but when they called him a half-breed behind his back, only to smile in his face with a marriage contract in one hand and flowers in the other, that was where he drew the line. 

Plus there was also the fact that he was, like sixteen.

Suffice to say, Danny was exhausted and hiding out in Pariah Dark’s old castle as a last resort. It wasn’t his favorite place all in all, but the gardens were absolutely beautiful, which was where he was walking. He was currently headed to the hedge maze, since it was the best way to get rid of any tails he may or may not have. 

The maze was nasty if it didn’t like you, and it didn’t like anybody but Danny, and even then, it still tried to take a bite every once in a while. Despite the snaking vines and roots trying to capture anything that moved, the flowers that wailed softly when disturbed or the sharp thorns of the hedge plants themselves, it was still a beautiful place. Uniquely, the closer you got to the centre, the more colorful (and dangerous) everything got, which was why he liked it best. 

He reached the centre much quicker than the first time he tried, thanks to the maze actually helping him, and something pale caught his eye right in the middle of the open area, right next to the bench Danny loved to use. As he got closer, he realized it was a swan laying on the floor, seemingly unconscious.

“Oh no,” Danny said as he approached. “What happened to you?”

As if awakened by the sound of his voice, the swan started to shift, its wings twitching and it rose its head groggily. As soon as it clocked in Danny, it let out a surprised squawk, followed by a long hiss as it struggled to move away.

“Hey, hey, none of that, Duckie, you’re ok.” Danny raised his hands placatingly. “I don’t want to harm you, ok? I just want to make sure you’re ok.”

The hiss subsided by a bit, but that may have only be due to the swan managing to get further away.

“Sh, sh, it’s ok,” Danny repeated as he slowly inched forward. The swan stopped hissing but still observed him warily. “I don’t want to hurt you Duckie, but I do think we’d better get you out of this maze.”

Danny took another step, and this time the swan stayed still. “How about bringing you back to my rooms just for now.” The swan hissed louder at the statement. “Don’t worry Duckie, I’m not keeping you prisoner it’s just this maze has been known to eat people. And you’re too pretty to be eaten,” Danny flashed a smile at the swan which had it stare back with a gaze saying really?

“So what do you say, wanna crash at my place?” Danny asked. The swan didn’t move forward but he didn’t move away either.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t trust a guy who talks to birds either,” Danny allowed. “And the place where I’m staying is a little gloomy, so I don’t blame you, but I can’t leave you here. The maze is honestly really dangerous, especially for a nice bird is like you. “

The swan seemed to hesitate before it hesitantly made its way to Danny. Ghost animals were usually smart but the swan seemed to understand English, which made communicating that much easier. Danny smiled and opened his arms. “I can carry you.” The swan just looked at him, with what Danny would’ve thought was a deadpan stare. “It would go much faster.”

If the swan was human it probably would’ve sighed, but instead, its wings just fell a little before it waddled towards Danny and looked up as if to say ‘get on with it’.

Danny smiled and gathered the animal in his arms. “Buckle up,” he said before flying off towards the maze exit, which was accompanied by a low hiss. Making sure there was nobody there to ambush him, Danny made it back to the castle in record time.

“Here we are Duckie.” Danny set the swan back down and it plopped down on the ground and just steadied themselves for a while.

Tim was a swan. He had wings and no fingers, and his feet were webbed.

He was handling it though. By which Tim meant he was shelving the impending panic attack for later when he wasn’t stuck in a swan body. 

Ok, so he’d been turned by the Queen of Fables, so there had to be an answer in a fairytale,a way to make him normal again. He knew the ugly duckling story. That had a swan in it, right? He didnt know any other swan stories, except maybe as a dish during the wedding banquet of whichever princess. He vaguely remembered a Barbie movie that had passed on the TV when he was younger but the only thing that came to mind were a scary-looking Troll thing, and ballet.  So with lack of better alternatives he was going to go with the ugly duckling. The ugly duckling’s happy ending was reuniting with family, so maybe all he needed was to make his way back to Gotham.

“Are you ok?” 

And that was another thing. The guy. The one Tim had at first wanted to get away from. He seemed nice and all, but he also had neon green eyes, and fangs. Unfortunately, while they suited the boy very well, they also marked him as an unknown. 

On the other hand, if the glowing portal wasn’t enough of an indication, the green tinge of everything around was clear indicator that Tim wasn’t in Kansas anymore. The guy seemed to want to help him, and having an ally wherever he was could only help.

Tim nodded as best as he could with his long weird neck, and he had to take a few steps to regain balance.

“That’s good,” the boy smiled with his white pointy canine. “How did you end up in the middle of that maze?”

Tim just looks back tiredly. He didn’t know how to even try and explain when he couldn’t say a word and had no opposable thumbs.

“Yeah, sorry.” The boy winced. “Maybe stick to yes or no questions.”

There was a sharp knock at the door that had the boy turning away.

“Prince Phantom!” A voice rung through the door.

Prince? 

The newly-dubbed Prince Phantom got up to open the door, “yes, what can I do for you?”

“Your meeting with Queen Dora is approaching. Do you still prefer to forgo an escort guards?” a purple lady was saying.

“I’ll be fine without, Maj but thank you very much,” Phantom answered with a polite smile.

“I’ll pass it along, my Prince.” She bowed and closed the doors behind her.

Phantom walked back to lay on the bed with a sigh. “I really hate that they call me that.” He turned towards Tim to continue. “I bet swans don’t have royalty. You guys had the right idea.”

[thatonegreekgodwrites]

“ECHOES OF ELYSIUM”

Odysseus x Fem!Reader

warnings. sexual assault, slavery, a greek retelling, eventual smut, war/gore, this won’t have a happy ending

pairing. odysseus x fem! reader (inspired by epic:the musical)

in the heart of troy, amidst the towering walls and architecture, the city bustled with the vibrant energy of its people. the market squares were filled with the sounds of merchants haggling and children playing, unaware of the shadow of war creeping ever closer. within the palace, the air was different—heavier with the scent of incense and the hum of anticipation.

you, a young slave girl with kind eyes and calloused hands, moved silently through the halls. your life was one of routine and quiet obedience, your existence almost invisible among the grandeur of the palace. today, however, was a day of celebration, and even you could not escape the excitement that seemed to permeate the very stones of troy.

the reason for the festivities was the birth of the heir, the firstborn son of prince hector and his beloved wife, andromache. the birth of the child promised new hope and joy, a symbol of strength and continuity. their legacy now secured if the gods favored them so. the celebration was to be grand, with nobles and warriors alike gathering to honor the new prince and his family.

you had been tasked with pouring wine for the guests. it was a simple task, yet it required precision and grace—qualities that had been drilled into you from a young age. you carried a large jug, the cool red liquid sloshing gently inside, as you made your way to the grand hall.

as you entered the hall, you were struck by the sight before you. the room was adorned with rich tapestries and garlands of flowers. the tables were laden with food and drink, and the air was filled with the murmur of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. at the center of it all was prince hector, his tall frame and noble bearing making him easily recognizable. beside him stood andromache, cradling their newborn son, both of them beaming with pride and joy.

you approached the head table with a steady gait, careful not to draw too much attention to yourself. you dipped your head respectfully, eyes fixed on the ground. you could feel the weight of the guests' gazes on you, but you remained focused, constantly reminding yourself to not make a mistake in your mind as you were known to be a bit clumsy.

"wine, my lord?" you asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

hector turned to you, his expression warm and kind. "yes, thank you," he said, gesturing to the goblet before him.

you carefully poured the wine, the liquid catching the light and sparkling as it filled the goblet. moving down the table, you repeated the process for andromache and the other guests. as you worked, you couldn't help but steal glances at the infant in andromache's arms. the baby boy, unaware of the significance of his birth, slept peacefully, his tiny chest rising and falling with each breath.

the celebration continued, the sounds of music and laughter filling the hall. you retreated to the edges of the room, task completed only for the moment. you watched the scene unfold, a mixture of longing and contentment in your heart. despite your status, you found joy in the happiness of others, even if it was a distant joy.

the night wore on and you remained vigilant, ready to attend to any needs that might arise. you and everyone else were unaware of the storm brewing beyond the walls of troy, the consequences of paris' actions casting a long shadow over the kingdom that would consume them in darkness in due time. for now, in this moment of peace, the future seemed bright and full of promise.

but you knew, as did everyone in troy, that peace was a fragile thing, easily shattered by the whims of fate. and as you stood in the grand hall, the echoes of the past and the whispers of the future intertwined, creating a tapestry of uncertainty that would shape the destiny of troy and all who lived within its walls.

lingering on the edges of the grand hall, your eyes scanning the room for any sign that you might be needed. the celebration for the birth of hector's son was still going even as night fell, the hall being brought alive with music and laughter.

suddenly, the room seemed to tilt as a hand gripped your shoulder, pulling you roughly into the light.

you turned to see hector's younger brother, prince deiphobus, his face flushed with wine and his eyes glazed with a drunken haze. he was known for his roguish charm, but tonight, it was more than evident that he had indulged too much.

"well, well, what do we have here?" he slurred, his hand wandering from your shoulder down your arm, lingering in a way that made your skin crawl. "a pretty little dove in the midst of all these hawks."

you stiffened, your pulse quickening as you bit your tongue, swallowing the surge of disgust that rose within you. you were a servant—a slave, and he was a prince. to resist would mean severe punishment, which meant you had no choice but to endure.

"my lord, can i get you some water?" you offered, hoping to distract him, your voice steady despite the turmoil within.

deiphobus laughed, a sound that was more menacing than mirthful. "water? no, i have something else in mind." his hand moved to your waist, drawing you closer as his breath was hot and reeking of alcohol against your ear. "tell me, does a slave like you know how to have fun?"

you forced a smile, the muscles in your face straining with the effort. "i am here to serve, my lord, in whatever way pleases you."

he grinned, his hand sliding lower. "good girl," he murmured, fingers tracing the curve of your hip. "i knew you would understand."

every fiber of your being screamed to pull away, but you remained still, eyes fixed on the ground. you could feel the weight of the guests' gazes on you, some watching with curiosity, others with indifference—after all, your plight meant nothing to them.

"why don't we find a quieter place, hmm?" deiphobus suggested, his tone laced with a dangerous edge.

"deiphobus," helenus called out from next to them, raising his goblet to his lips as he quirked a brow, voice calm but commanding. "leave her be."

deiphobus turned, a drunken sneer on his face. "ah, helenus. always the serious one. why don't you go back to your scrolls and leave the fun to me?"

helenus' eyes narrowed. "surely you can go one night without tainting another servant. find entertainment elsewhere and by the gods, remember that you're a prince, have some decorum."

deiphobus scoffed, but the firmness in helenus's voice gave him pause. he let go of you with a rough shove, making you stumble back. "fine, fine," he muttered, turning away with a dismissive wave. "always spoiling the fun."

helenus watched him go, his expression unchanging until deiphobus disappeared into the crowd. then, he turned to you, his gaze softening ever so slightly. "next time you ought to remember i won't be able to stop him, i suggest you find a way to keep your hands busy."

you nodded with a tug inside your chest. "yes, my lord, thank you."

with that, he looked away, drowning the conversation of the people around him as his own servants served him grapes. you took a deep breath, your hands trembling slightly as you took helenus' advice, moving around the large room to keep yourself occupied and out of the sight of deiphobus.

you felt the fragility of peace hanging in the air, a feeling of knowing that the celebration of new life was shadowed by the impending storm. yet, within the confines of your role, you found a flicker of strength, a resolve to endure whatever fate the gods had in store for you.

author’s note. comment your thoughts, if this does well I’ll continue it over on here and might put more effort into the account. you can find this story also on my wattpad account. thanks for reading!

[likehoneyandsilk]

Good Graces

A little late to the Thanksgiving game . . . ☺️ Nevertheless, here's something sweet. I am a bit rusty returning to writing, so feedback is appreciated as always. Enjoy! 💛 (18+)

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A serene quiet graced the home. The boisterous laughter and elated chatter had departed with the last of your guests. The lingering scents of cinnamon and firewood enveloped the home in warmth, a pleasant reminder of the meal shared with the most beloved of family and friends.

The lights had been dimmed throughout the house, casting shadows along the walls as you worked silently putting your house to bed. The leftovers had been packed, the pumpkin pie eaten, and the dishes had been loaded into the dishwasher. While Joe cleaned the kitchen counters, you worked across from him, tidying the rustic dinner table.

A few taper candles remained lit, wax dripping down their sides. Glass vases were spread in expanse all over the table, the light casting rainbows along their rims. In them, meticulously picked red and white flowers dipped their stems in water. An assortment of faded red, yellow and orange pumpkins had been placed amongst the decorations. You stacked the untouched china, working feverishly as if the slightest bit of strength may shatter them within your hands.

Too engrossed in your task, you had yet to notice the way your lover had become immune to anything else but you. Joe, in his ever so handsome state, leaned back against the exquisite white granite island counter. The tedious frosted tips of his hair no longer remained, a sign that Summer was long gone, and Winter only neared. His larger frame was adorned in a white cotton and wool shirt, which was now unbuttoned, exposing only his neck and the slightest of his chest.

There had been an ease to Joe tonight. The tempestuous season had taken a toll on him, leaving him awake many nights in bed, wondering where he had gone wrong. As the days grew shorter, so did his courage. The man held every ounce of pride in his craft, but beneath all the pressures and constraints tied to his name, there had arrived a time of epiphany - there was only so much within his control.

What he could control, was focusing on his wife, his newly wed bride whom he had eloped with in a small town during the Summer. His bride. His girl. You. After all the years spent together, all the years passed as you grew with each other, Joe was impatient to pair the engagement ring with a wedding ring.

For Joe, there was an undeniable simplicity with the domesticity of life with you. Beyond the fame and the outlandish lifestyle, he often desired the feel of a normal routine. It was in moments like this where you played house effortlessly.

It was in moments like this Joe seemed to forget all constraints and pressures that arrived with the expectations tied to his name.

You moved seamlessly around the table, tucking chairs with each step. You hands were gentle with the china plates, the stunning diamond on your left hand sparkling underneath even the faintest of light. Joe wallowed in the way your hair enveloped your face, the clip unable to hold the thick perfectly curled jet black hair he adored so much. The powdered blush had faded from your cheeks, your natural rouge creeping from within. The lipstick placed so delicately on your plump lips long gone. It was not until a shaky breath escaped his lips, at the sight of your dress tightening around your breasts with every forceful exhale and bend of your hips did Joe finally catch your attention.

From you spot, you could make out the darkened state of his electric blue eyes. You caught the glimmer of golden on what was exposed of his chest. He had a coy smile on his lips. You wondered if he noticed the way his shirt clung to his biceps when he brought his hand to run through his fair. A dish towel sat idle in the grasp of his free hand, presumptuously from drying his hands after loading the dishes into the dishwasher. His sleeves had been rolled up to his elbows, veins prominent even under the poorly lit kitchen.

As you drew closer he stood straighter. His fingers brushed yours as he grabbed plates from your hand, obeying your silent order as you stretched your neck over to the cabinet above his head. Effortlessly, he placed the dishes in their spot, shutting the cupboard, concealing them away for the next Thanksgiving. Washing your hands at the sink next to him, you reached for the dish towel.

A fatigued haze fell over your chocolate brown eyes. The taste of red wine lingered in your mouth. There was a lull fading across your body, an urge to lay in bed with Joe against you. The clock on the stove signalled midnight.

Catching his eyes again, you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach. His eyes had darkened, the same dark blue that craved you in all ways possible. It was the dark blue that ignited a fire inside you, prepared you for an unfathomable consumption of lust. Catching you by surprise, he tugged on the dish towel, drawing you near. His arms encircled around your frame, hands finding territory on the granite on either side of you, your lower back pressed into the counter. He had you caved in, and you would be a fool to say you did not hope for him to lead the way.

He loosed the clip from your hair, letting it fall freely along your back. His citrus-like and woody scent consumed you. You wondered if he could hear how wildly your heart was beating, as he gazed at you endearingly, forgetting that anything else in the world existed.

"We should get to bed."

You whispered words filled the silence surrounding you. By the crave in your eyes, Joe knew undoubtedly your fatigue held no power against what your heart desired. He could read the shift in your chocolate brown eyes to an intense darkened shade. See the way you unknowingly bit your lip, your breath hitched, the innocent flicker of your gaze to his lips.

"Not yet, we forgot to do something."

It was the first words he had spoken in just under an hour. You felt the gruffness of his voice, the way the words fell effortlessly from his mouth, like velvet against your skin.

Leaning down to your level, your eyes closed as his lips kissed your cheek. He travelled lower, underneath your jaw, along your chin, lingering on your neck. He inhaled your scent. It was an intoxication of vanilla and jasmine. He held himself strongly, his demeanour calm as he spoke against your skin.

"We never said what we were thankful for."

Confusion spread over your body, suddenly replaced with a chill when his cold hand wrapped around your waist. The thin fabric of your cream-coloured dress adorned in dainty red flowers could not withstand the pressure of his touch, the way his large hand fit perfectly along your waist, trailed to your backside and rested at the bottom of you back.

"Your mom led the chain, we all did. Remember?"

His kisses trailed up again. Underneath your jaw, along your jaw, and then your cheek. They hovered dangerously over your right ear. You fingers fumbled with the untouched buttons on his shirt, wondering if you could be as smooth as him in making your crumble against his touch.

"None of that sugarcoated shit babe, I mean one thing your're thankful for. In this room of course."

He pulled your flush against him, your arms wrapping around his waist as your eyes met. His free hand trailed along the side of your thigh, scrunching the fabric of your dress as he rode it higher. With each passing second, your heart fluttered, his touch against your skin like a million butterflies fluttering their wings against it.

Your mouth went dry when his hand curved around your backside, fiddling with the lace garment concealing your most intimate spot. His fingers fiddled with the thin garment, his fingers digging into plush skin.

"Gotta tell me, otherwise we'll be like this all night."

HIs voice was taunting, the smirk lining his lips all too inviting. His arms hooked around you, leaving you dissatisfied with the loss of contact of his fingers to your skin. The hem of your dress fell into place. Lifting you effortlessly, he situated you on the granite counter, the cold seeping through your dress.

Even at this elevation, you gazed up at him, his frame still towering yours. He raised his eyebrows, impatiently waiting for your answer. Brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear, he left his fingers linger in your hair, massaging the sweet spot just below you earlobe.

When the answer finally arrived, it was a breathless barely audible whisper. "It's you."

He nodded, his loving gaze taking you in entirely. He spreads your legs, inviting himself in. Instinctively, you tighten your hold around him, tugging at the collar of his shirt.

"And what about you?"

He responds with a boyish shrug, exhaling loudly. His hands dance up your legs, riding your dress higher and higher.

"I can't tell you . . ." He begins, pulling you close. You lips inches apart as your eyes bore into one another. You feel your chest tighten, the anticipation build in your stomach.

"But I can show you."

Ever so even, ever so cool. It is the affirmation in his tone that sends a thrill up your spine.

His lips against yours are like butter, smooth and silky. He meshes against you so well. He is a drug, an all to encompassing drug that you crave so desperately. You feel limp, simply because you become all to consumed by his presence.

Wrapping your arms gingerly around his neck, your fingers dance with the hair at the nape of his neck. You feel his hands travel up your back, along your neck, and then to the back of your head, where they get lost in your hair. You legs tighten around his waist.

You gasp softly, feeling him against you. When his teeth gently dig into your bottom lip, you groan, barely audible but soft and musical.

You pull back first, breathless. "Will I feel it to? What you're thankful for?"

It's the way your voice is so timid, but teasing. It has taken every ounce of you to ask such questions, cheeks burning red as you drop your gaze. Joe knows you inside out, and he cannot help relish at the way he pulls you into ecstasy with the simplest of actions.

“I'd be a failure if you couldn't" Again, it is the mere calmness of his voice that sends you in a frenzy.

This kiss is deeper, it speaks volumes of his love for you. You shudder when he draws his lips back, an intoxication for one another evident in the other's eyes. An airy breath leaves from between your lips as he kisses your neck. It is not until you feel his teeth graze your sensitive skin do you shift, instinctively drawing his hands to your hips to hold you in place. His hair tickles your skin as he kisses lower, your chest rising and falling in rushed paces. His name falls from within you, a whisper so quiet, he almost misses the way you drag his name in uncontainable desire. He breaks the kiss to undo the buttons against your sternum.

Joe is achingly slow when he begins to draw the dress lower. It is the soft kiss, the bite of your lip, and the way his fingers dance along your skin that drive you insane. He locks your gaze with his own, and observes how you decompose before him. His touch travels down your neck, along your collarbone, down your shoulders, and finally hits fabric. The places he has touched are warm and tender. He pulls your dress down slowly exposing more skin. You groan in dissatisfaction when he draws back. An airy chuckle escapes from his lips, a satisfied look plastered across his face.

"I've got you, easy now, huh?" You nod, obeying entirely.

You slide off the counter, arms wrapping around his neck as your body becomes flushed against his. Your lips mold into one, his arms holding you firmly by the waist. His fingers dig into your sides, earning himself a groan from the back of your throat. Before you can comprehend, he lifts you, carrying you with ease towards the couch.

The lamp in the corner casts a golden hue about the room, the smell of fire burning wood still evident in the air. He sits down, your knees embedded in the cushion, your sex resting against his muscular thigh. Your hands cling to his collar, whimpering as he shifts in his spot, the movement of his thigh against your delicate sex sending electrifying sensations up your body.

"I love you." His words are rushed, as if finding the opportunity to remind you before he unravels your before him completely.It is a brief second, but it is soft, as he cups your face, mumbling words of encouragement as you tell him you love him back, your hips still moving rhythmically. He marvels at the innocence etched on your face, the pink tinge to your cheeks, and the way your body begins to shudder. When your head falls back and sweat glistens on your neck, he holds you, keeping you upright, letting you ride out your first high.

The room fills with the faint moan you expel, the sound bouncing off the walls. Your head falls against Joe, finding comfort in his neck as you catch you breath. His hands trails along your back, whispering sweet nothings in your ears.

With the profound intensity of the moment and the uncontainable shifts of your hips, your dress has fallen past your breasts, revealing pink lace adorning. You sit up, watching as Joe becomes awestruck at the site before him. Love bites litter your neck. Your chest rises and falls profoundly. Lips pink and eyes on fire. You're nodding in approval as he silently seeks permission to rid you of your dress entirely.

As he guides you beneath him, you whimper as his hips press into yours. The fabric of his clothes brushes across your skin, and you pull at his shirt, which soon finds a way to the ground. The skin to skin contact embraces you like a blanket. The fabric of his pants is rough against your legs, but just as you're about to undo his belt, he fulfills the distance between you.

His lips devour yours in a hungry kiss before pulling back. He watches you wither against him, cheeks flushed as his lips trail you neck, along your sternum, and all the way to your navel. You whimper, the sound becoming a faint exclamation of his name, as his fingers travel between you thighs, his eyes burning into yours as he gentlly brushes his fingers against lace.

He works you through slowly, whispering endearing terms and guiding you through a pleasurable high. When your legs begin to shake, your nails dig into his shoulders, and the sounds of your moans and whimpers dance off the walls he knows he has you exactly where he wants.

The rise of your hips draws his fingers to the lace concealing you. He exposes you with such fragility, watching you wither before him. You pull at his hair, knees bent as he find solace between your legs. It is the first sensation of his mouth on you that sends you in an undeniable state of euphoria.

And he shows you, makes you feel, just how thankful he is for you.

[just-some-user-hunny]

Alucard headcanons...

I loved @shinjisdone writing on this particular character, and I've just started watching Hellsing Ultimate and all the characters are so yummy to analyse, so that's brought me here...

Please go check out @shinjisdone ! they have lots of incredible stuff written up!

✧ He responds so passionately to the sounds of your voice beckoning him by name. Alucard, Alucard?, Alucard!

No matter the tone; tender and gentle, curious and soft, fearful and timid. It makes his dead heart tremble. Fills him with fire. He's a rabid dog, your dog. Integra may hold the leash, hold command over him, but you have something else much more unnatainable and devoting. His love. No matter how twisted and dark it is, it's yours. Yours to burden. So please... Angel... Call for him again, won't you?

✧ There's always a part of him mindful of your whereabouts, the beat of your heart and the rush of blood in your veins, even your breath caught in your throat. He can sense every little tiny detail about you even if he's far far away. It always seems there's another presence in your shadow. It lurks behind you, your shadow dwarfing your actual size. Likes it's not really yours, like something is occupying it...

Even when he's not some lurking entity, and he's standing eerily tall and gaunt in the same room as you, his eyes are often focused on you. He observes you through the tinted coloured glass of his lenses, and if your eyes ever meet his, he smiles. He thinks your skittish curiosity of him is adorable. Endearing. He's found he likes your eyes on him. His are always on you, so would you grant him the pleasure of your reciprocation?

✧ Whenever you find yourself in danger, your shadow grows oppressive and dark. You feel it press into your back, clutching at you like a snarling creature. You're so fortunate to not be able to see the nightmarish visions that lurk right behind you, the jagged teeth and blood red eyes that stare from the abyss. You swear you can hear something growling and snarling, like a wild dog by your feet. The fearful entity pressed against you, pushing and pulling seemingly lulls you. Whatever is frightening you seems nothing like a scattering bug now, ready to be crushed and devoured by your devoted monster.

✧ You may also find that your time will be consumed by his presence. Whenever he is not beckoned to Integra's heel to go maim and kill whoever she desires, he finds himself by yours instead. He desires all of your attention, to be the audience of your mere existence- to engrave every part of you into him, so that he may not ever forget a single detail for when he inevitably keeps living and you are all but beneath the soil and lovingly cradled in soft silk and your favourite flowers. But let's not get ahead of that...

✧ As he becomes burdened with his growing infatuation with you, the more bothersome he'll make himself to you. Sweet soft coos of pet names are used often to refer to you, and he can never get enough of the way you fluster and fidget aimlessly. The rapid beat of your heart is a sweet melody to him, he loves hearing it sing whenever he unabashedly refers to you as his love. His beloved. His dear, his darling, his angel. His possessiveness is not kept quiet, as you can plainly see. There's no bashfulness to him either. No shame, no embarrassment. He will very proudly acclaim you as his beloved, no matter who is there to witness his devotions. He loves the drama, the pride, his own bragging.

✧ He'll always be nearby. By your bedside, watching you sleep. In your shadow, as you creep the dark hallways at night in search of a glass of water. He's in your footsteps, in the flicker of shadows by your candle-lit bedside, always ready to hear your call for him.

The most damning thing you can do is show him any type of love. Either it is meant to be taken in a heartfelt way, if you offer him a word of assurance or kindness, you're done for. Even if you just call for him if you're scared, it sets off this flame within him. One that'll soon turn into an uncontrollable blazing wildfire.

✧ Because now you've gone and done it. You've fed a starving dog, and now he's forever yours. Foolish. Stupid. You don't understand, do you? The weight of this ordeal? For you to refer to him so gently like he was something precious... Like he was something capable of loving... You've started something that you'll never be capable of finishing. So please... Keep giving him your goodness. Your gentleness and softness. He'll lap at it like a man dying of thirst, gulping it down and aching for more. Your voice, your breaths, your hands, your thoughts of him... He'll gulp it all down.