#the way he dodges the eraser!!!

[the-original-skipps]

don’t mind sharing some screenshots of this beautiful man

[randomnameless]

Land 1 done!

Without crossing the bridge to get rekt'd by the final boss and trigger a bad ending, of course :p

I know the game puts more emphasis on gameplay than on characters, unlike, say, FE 8x2, but damn if every little situation you recruit random characters makes me think of past FE events in different titles and it just... fits? Somehow?

Like, evil empire has trouble conquering a party of Cornia, but behold! A mysterious plague pops up, that is totally not tied to the shady as fuck necromancer who works with the evil empire and says it'd be annoying if people find a cure.

So we have some guy and his army of cleric wearing plague doctor masks trying to find a cure by, uh, experimenting/working on people who already caught the plague, even accepting to work with the evil empire because curing the plague is more important, right?

Ends justify means yadda yadda... save for the part I earlier mentionned, that it is heavily implied the evil empire is the one who created that plague to begin with!

Now, imagine in a FE game if, in the background, we had to rescue people or hear about people being afflicted by a strange and unknown disease... and if that disease was engineered by people for a further motive...

8x2? Nah.

We also have quests where people are fighting for the evil empire who is occupying their land because they believe as long as they obey their people won't be put to the sword...

(I watched my bro play the final chapter, we know how it ends lol)

Not!Cyril fighting against bandits, finding and helping a witch fend off people who are trying to "catch her" - we even get a flimsy excuse for a bikini attire in the process and an answer to the "why do i use spells to rejuvenate myself in a sexy body? It's because I won't be able to move as fast as I can now if I was a crone" other flimsy excuse, etc etc.

Now it's time to enter the land of fucked up siblings relationship (sure Virginia is Alain's cousin - who looks like his mom - and can end up with him, but this is not the kind of Jugdralian stuff I had in mind) and let me tell you, all those plot bunnies I had in Jugdral about Lester believing he was going to become Lord of Jungby all of his life, only to have his role/throne snatched before his eyes by a bum who's apparently his cousin and can use the legendary shiny bow of legend is... basically Drakengard (Drakenhold in english?), but up to eleven.

Ah, and it wouldn't be a post from me if I don't find a way to rant about the localisation lol

Josef, upon meeting Virginia, basically goes in the audio "it's been a long time since I last saw you". In the english version?

Like what are you implying Josef, she wasn't a princess when you saw her last time or didn't have the "standing" fit for a princess?

Besides, I hope the release of the october book won't blow a hole in the Josef's "you were a teenager when we last met" by releasing character ages, but that's not really that important.

This however

Alain greets his long lost cousin, nothing wrong here right?

Well, in the JP audio, he calls her with the "hime" suffix, showing as much deference as Josef, who is a retainer of the royal family. Virginia doesn't use any suffix because that's her, but in Alain's various support convos, we learn that he had to learn and to behave like a proper noble after escaping from his castle 7 years ago, and all this noble/formal stuff is something he doesn't use with his commoner friends.

Ergo, this minor thing here is important, especially in the Drakengard themes : siblings/relatives used to be close, but reuniting after a long period of time or several life changing events, they are changed and even if they want and try to, cannot be as close as they once were.

[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ the way of the househusband ❞

☾₊‧⁺...cw : househusband!fushiguro toji x fem!reader, you are megumi's mom, flirting, playful banter, just overall silly and cute domestic life

☾₊‧⁺...lunar's note : just some simple lil toji hcs of him as a househusband! i need some sweet stuff of him without a lot of sexual stuff in it bc let's be real, in a domestic setting he's probably just a big clingy and mildly annoying bear husband

f. toji is never going to complain about being the one staying home, watching over the little gremlin that is megumi. he's got his own ways of bringing in money with that friend of his, shiu, but he's more than content to being the one in the frilly pink apron, cooking for you and the lil' man.

toji didn’t ever expect to get married, especially after how he was treated as a zenin. he didn't know much about love or how to connect with people, let alone you. but when you handed his ass to him with no struggle and a pretty smile on your face at the gym, he knew he wanted you. two years later and a shit load of aggressive flirting, toji ends up with you as his spouse and he wouldn't have it any other way.

so imagine toji's surprise when he's genuinely excited when you tell him your pregnant. he's excited but scared. him? a father? there's no way in hell he has any idea what to do, his own father was nothing but a piece of shit...so what if he turns out like him? but the moment you pop that big headed little fucker out of you, toji can't help but grin, that excitement of being a father and creating memories with this tiny little thing erasing all his fears.

whenever you come home from work, toji's usually in the living room with little megumi, who forced him to take part in the exercise part of his favorite kids show. you don't know how megumi, your one year old baby who still talked in little babbles, forced his massive giant of a father who could kill a man with a look to do 'exercise for baby,' but you know better than to question it when you see the two touching their toes in front of the tv.

sometimes, he's in the kitchen, however, wearing that 'kiss the cook' apron you got for his birthday. toji always wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into a kiss, muttering a 'welcome home’ against your lips before poking your side and going back to what he was doing, proud grin on his face at the little screech he gets from you.

he's started to get better at dodging your hands when you go to poke him back, skirting around the table before going to scoop megumi up. “you would never do such an act in front of 'gumi, would you? what if he starts going around poking girls in their sides, hm? then i'll have to explain to his teacher that his mama can't keep 'er hands to herself.”

toji's got you there...so you back off, opting to press a kiss to babygumi’s little forehead, taking him from your husband’s arms when he makes grabby hands at you. you savor the betrayed look on toji's face, sticking your tongue out at him. he scoffs, rolling his eyes before going back to make sure dinner wasn’t burnt. he’ll get you back for stealing his son from him.

despite what people might think, there’s not really a 'dominant' person in the relationship. when together, the two of you give off some of the most intimidating vibes because of the sheer power the both of you carry. it's not even put off by little megumi, because if he notices his parents looking at you in disgust, he's gonna give you one that's even worse.

toji will never forget the day the three of you went to the grocery store, him in his usual black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, you in one of those same shirts and leggings with megumi in the kiddie seat in the shopping cart, eating from the little snack pack toji made for him. toji swears he walked away for three fucking seconds, and he came back to some...fucker getting ready to chat you up. it’s no surprise anyone that he gets pissed, ready to storm over there and make it clear you're taken.

however, it's clear you don't need him to step in, and damn, you look...really hot telling this dude off, angrily flashing your ring when he wouldn't back off. god, he wishes he could marry you again. toji doesn’t even know what you told the guy, and he's tempted to playfully ask megumi what happened, knowing his lil' man would try to respond in babbles and coos.

“he said you crawled out from the trash, toj, i can't stand for that! he could’ve done you some justice and said you crawled out of the deepest pits of hell, so I had to educate him on that. besides, he called you my boyfriend and I almost punched his face.”  “yeah? hm, i’m glad you didn’t, babe, we don’t want to get kicked out the store.”  “i don’t know, i think an imprint of my ring in his forehead would get the message across.”  “well, next time, how about we just kiss like we haven't seen each other in 15 years? not a fan of showing out to some dude, but i'd do it for you, sweetheart.”  “mmn!”  “right, lil' man? mama's so mean t' me, it's a good idea.”  “gumiiii, you're supposed to be on my side!”

occassionally, when you're at work, toji'll just talk to megumi, the little one nice and comfy on his chest.

one habit he'll never get out of is randomly calling you throughout the day when he's particularly bored and missing you. if you don't answer, toji will just leave you a message, usually about how badly he wants you to come home, groaning about how tired he is but he can't sleep without you in his arms, without you playing with his hair until he falls asleep. he's so in love with you, it's almost makes you dizzy.

you'll never forget the day you come home to toji and baby megumi in the front yard, crouched down around...something. parking in the driveway, you make your way over and see what they're looking at. it's...a kitten and a puppy, two tiny little things playfighting with each other. neither one of them say anything, just looking at the two creatures. you sigh, knowing exactly what this means.

"...give them appropriate names and make vet appointments. we aren't naming the dog 'hot dog' and we aren't naming the cat 'kitten'." "i told you it would work, lil' man."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[rqnarok]

summary: dark!old man!logan would do anything for the sake of you going back into his arms. 

cws/tags: smut, mdni! old man!logan. obsessive behavior. fem!reader. logan calls himself ‘old man’. pet names. unspecified age gap. unstable power dynamic. crying. soft dom!logan. sub!reader. not proofread. 

You’re not sure if you can even call him your ‘ex.’ 

The both of you never had the ‘talk’, and never did have any middle ground stating what kind of relationship this is. 

Logan’s way older than you - way more mature - “Need t’be fucked by a real man, ‘s that it, baby?” way more experienced. 

No matter how heated the night before, Logan still turns everything cold with his aloofness - and you - you never feel brave enough to speak up against it. 

With a heavy heart and numerous self-loathing sessions, you concluded that it was time to let him go - convincing yourself you deserve someone more. Someone you’d be comfortable with to ask for something more. 

And you did, well, that’s what you tell yourself as you busied yourself with everything else. Withdrawing from him little by little, texting him things such as  ‘Can’t meet you today, sorry’ or ‘Something else came up..’ to avoid ending up on his sheets.

Logan’s not stupid. He may be old, a fucking hundred years old something but he’s not dumb. He knows what you’re doing. 

Reading the texts you sent him, he’d grumble curse words under his breaths before tugging off his glasses in a harsh movement. 

He just didn’t think you’d last so long dodging him. Logan expected you to give up on the first day of the second week—he was wrong because it’s been a month, damnit.

Sometime during the unlabeled relationship that went on for almost a year already, you put Logan’s number on the list as your ‘alternative’ contact, making people ring his number when yours is not answering.

And Logan always answers your phone calls. He’d justify himself that it’s merely a habit that he’s still trying to break, but truthfully it’s to make sure you’re hanging out with the ‘right people.’ 

Logan fucking hates it when he’s hearing a guy’s voice on the other line—toughens himself to respond, lowering his voice and curting his answers. He’ll let them know you’re busy. 

In the second month, you run back into Logan in desperation. 

Your eyes are all puffy from crying because your last date was such a prick! He called you nasty-horrible-sickening names before erasing your number off his phone for no reason. 

Logan opens his arms to welcome your hiccuping figure standing before him. Shushing you down and rubbing circles on your back - telling you to tell him who hurted you. 

This dependency you hold on him makes his cock twitch. That he’s right: you still seek him out no matter how long it takes. 

You don’t even notice how bad it gets—that’s the best thing. You never learn, huh?

That’s alright - because he’ll try for real this time. Groans out praises after praises to you, “What’s that, baby? Y’feel good?” Logan jeers overhead, holding himself over you with his hand gripping onto the headboard, “Too good?” He chuckles as his other hand thumbs on your puffy button.

His rough fingers pad up your clit, sending electricity throughout your body. Making you writhe underneath him and Logan scolds you in the softest way he can, “Stay still f’me, will ya?” 

You can’t answer. You can’t even speak outside of high-pitched whines, a mess of your own saliva drips until it reaches your chin. Your whole body is finally sticky after it’s been cold for weeks. His fat cock driving onto his home over and over, better than anything you’ve ever felt before.

“Yeah, y’just need your old man, hm? No one else can t‘care of this pussy like I do, sweetheart.”

He maliciously slows down his movement to watch his length entering your wet folds, humming at the vulgar squelching sound, “Come take a look a’her, baby. She’s squeezing me in - misses me so much.” 

The sight of him is trouble, messy greying hair and beard; chest full of scars. Everything you should’ve stayed away from.

”Yeayeahyea- Missed you so m-much. Ah-” 

But you cannot think when he’s holding you like this - when he angles himself so his tip is continuously hitting against that spongy spot inside you that makes your body weak. 

A string of ah ah ahs are leaving your mouth as he growls next to your face. “‘M cumming —”

His head falls back as he feels how your dripping pussy milks him dry, instantly following after as he buries himself deeper to make sure none of his cum drips out, “F-fuck. Good fuckin’ girl.” 

When he’s finished, Logan falls atop you in tiredness before rolling himself slightly to the side so he doesn’t suffocate you with his weight. Pampering your tear-flushed cheeks with slow kisses - the feel of his beard burning onto your skin like a streak of fire.

“C’meback, sweet girl.” He whispers in a quiet voice, hoping you’d give in completely. 

And you do - you always do.

Moments later, he’d have you resting on his chest, fingers combing through your hair to calm you down from the noises inside your head.

You don’t have to know that he was the one who drove your date away. 

It’s a mistake that the boy called Logan’s number because he was so impatient to hear back from you. A goddamn mistake. 

Because of that, Logan became aware of his existence and tracks him down. Threatens the other guy to stay the fuck away from you. 

Poor guy almost pissed his pants in fright. Running away scared shitless after Logan let go of his collar. 

Logan doesn’t know when exactly he turned into this wild animal. A sick old fuck who’d do anything to keep you in his embrace. 

Why does it matter? Everything is in its right place now. He’ll make sure you’d never have to know about the things he’d do for you.

[slaygentford]

”maitre when it’s hot or convenient” and to louis it was never even hot or convenient. to ARMAND it’s hot that he can have his public sex power play fantasy and to ARMAND it’s convenient that whenever he wants to dodge culpability or having to say what he means with his chest he can flip on the sexual servant and pretend like that’s a legitimate way to make someone else “make decisions for him.” Louis you wanted your memory removed you asked me for it THEN SAY NO. you could have refused him YOU COULD HAVE REFUSED HIM. and yet you pull the submissive card and pretend like the power play here is more than a play/means absolutely anything at all. you erased it so that he wouldn’t remember YOU TORTURING HIM FOR SIX. DAYS!!! Maitre WHEN IT’S CONVENIENT. Oh it’s sick it’s so sick it’s a 4 dimensional level of victim blaming

[chaoticace2005]

List of why the Radio Demon disappeared for 7 years:

1. His fight with Vox ended really badly and he needed to recover.

2. He went somewhere to acquire more power.

3. He had a mission to do because of his deal.

4. Vox confessed his love for Alastor. Alastor had no idea how to respond to this so he ghosted Vox for seven years. But Vox had access to cameras everywhere so the best way to ghost Vox is to ghost the city.

5. Met a wise old man who taught him the secrets to life, he had a training montage.

6. Took a gap year(s) to “find himself”

7. Extended tea party at Rosie’s

8. His shadow got pissed at him and decided to swallow him, sending him to a shadow dimension that he drifted in for seven years.

9. His friends from the other side finally caught up to him and he had to repay his debt

10. His tailor went on sabbatical and he couldn’t leave his place without the proper amount of drip so he had to wait for him to return.

11. There was a shortage of red hair dye, he had to wait for them to restock.

12. Someone took a photo of him with his tail out. He went on a mission to hunt them down and DESTROY them.

13. He went to the Hellmart to cause $50,000 in TV damages (Tomota vid reference)

14. He was busy making diss tracks for everyone he knows and lost track of time.

15. Susan beat him in a bake sale and he had to hide out of shame.

16. Honeymoon with his cane.

17. Fell into a coma

18. Found out about the Alastor-Body Pillow Vox had and then had to ensure they were never manufactured again.

19. He accidentally saw part of one of Angel’s pornos and was traumatized. He had to leave Pentagram City because everyone he went he saw his face.

20. Hung out with Lilith who dished tea about Lucifer.

21. Was told he was “outdated” so he took the time to educate himself on modern slang.

22. Tried to find an obedience trainer for cats.

23. He time traveled seven years into the future and just decided to run with it.

24. Alastor was killed. That’s not Alastor. That’s a shadow acting as him.

25. That’s not Alastor, that’s his twin brother.

26. Walked in on a role play session between a Vox and Valentino-Dressed-Up-Like-Alastor and needed to find a way to erase the memory.

27. Bonked his head. Woke up and thought his name was Bob, he lived a nice, happy life until he bonked his head again.

28. Fell through a portal and woke up in a dimension where his name was a bird named Crane who was a janitor in a world of King Fu and pandas.

29. Got access to the season 1 script so he could mentally prepare. He’s been rehearsing his lines and doing his best to make his performance as disturbing as possible.

30. Went to the dentist. When they tried to help him he ate them, so he had to find another dentist, who he also ate. This went on for a while.

31. Was run out of town by his dentist who got annoyed he kept dodging his appointments

32. Got relationship counseling for him and his shadow.

33. Was just out having a good time, partying, and consuming souls.

34. Went on a seven year long bender.

35. Rosie told him he was an “arrow” so he went to archery classes. Turns out she was wrong and archery really isn’t his forte.

[cannedbabs]

In your rewrite, do Felix and Turbo happen to have history together? Or is Felix just extremely hyper fixated on the Turbo lore? (Kind of like a true crime addict)

Sorry I’ve been hit with the “Can’t draw due to school” disease but this was in the drafts of my drawing app so. Small 🤏 doodle page

In short? They have history! I love Hammertastic as toxic exes (on both ends) but I’m not gonna push that narrative since it’s not inherently canon. Basically in the rewrite it can be read as “used to be friends” or “oh. Goodness. The narrative between them they tried to erase but it haunts them like a ghost from their past” etc etc.

MORE BELOW CUT as always <3

((ALL OF THIS LORE EXPLAINED IS MY HEADCANON aka my truth lol YOU DONT HAVE TO VIEW THEM LIKE THIS! ESPECIALLY IN TERMS OF MY REWRITE! I will never force a perspective. For example, Ralph and Turbo know each other in my rewrite too, if you wanna imagine Demolition Derby instead of Hammertastic that’s cool too!))

Felix is NOT fixated on Turbo at all. Even barely remotely interested in him as a concept anymore. But back in the day they bonded over being neighbors and protagonists of their games (Turbo was kinda focused on how Felix ‘won medals’ and found that as mutual ground to stand on. Felix just thought Turbo needed to talk to someone and stepped in 😭)

This horribly started a relationship! Nothing out in the open, despite Turbo being vocal about all of his ‘wins’ (this basically means he didn’t see Felix as a prize to be won). As much as Turbo is painted in a bad light and was the openly toxic one, Felix isn’t blameless. Felix constantly dodged issues, half way viewing a “Just don’t let it bother you!” Mindset which clashed with Turbo’s “confront the system” mindset. Basically whenever Turbo had a problem it was swept under the rug, and nothing was discussed. Whenever Felix had an issue Turbo was either gung ho on confronting whoever caused it (more for his own self image rather than actually HELPING felix) or could half ass trying to convince Felix he is the best (of his game, at least) and would offer to take Felix on a drive to take his mind off of it (Felix never took this offer. Claimed driving ‘scared’ him. Cough no he just didn’t wanna do it cough)

This isn’t to say they didn’t get along or didn’t have a basis for a relationship. Felix cared, and Turbo isn’t heartless (at this point in time at least). The King Candy persona was not out of the blue, Turbo was always silly and ridiculous when he wanted to be (I just forget to draw it LOL) and Felix found all of his antics to be hilarious. I also think this is works well bc Felix never meets King Candy in WIR :] coulda made some connections…

ANYWAYS! All that to say “erm. Maybe!” Teehee I love thinking about them <3 they do end up seeing each other again in the rewrite and ohh!! Boy!!! But that’s for another time

[jesswritesthat]

Aizawa Shōta: Quirkless

Fandom: BNHA // MHA — [Masterlist]

Summary: ~1k, fluff, humour

• Being a vigilante puts you on a wanted list despite your good intentions, it’s only when Erasure Head tracks you down that your life starts to change.

Warnings: Slight spoilers

>>>>——————————>

It was easy skirting the line between good and evil, by definition you were on the fence. Technically you leaned toward the underground hero side, the only issue with what you did being the fact you didn’t have a hero licence.

That’s why they’d dubbed you a vigilante.

Naturally you’d evaded the radar quite well so far, hanging up petty criminals for the police, assisting civilians during villain attacks. Heroes hadn’t the chance to catch you since you’d disappear whilst they were distracted with villain clean up, and stealth was a specialty of yours.

However if anyone was going to hunt you down, it was going to be a fellow underground hero. Unluckily (or luckily) for you, the man to succeed was Erasure Head. He came from the shadows and wasn’t very talkative but under the shimmering stars, you engaged in battle with him, dodging his weapon and physical attacks.

“I’m not the bad guy here Erasure!”

“Yet, you’re on a wanted list.”

Then it hit you, Erasure Heads' infamous gaze befell your figure and just like that your quirk would be nullified. It was supposed to stop you, prevent you from moving the way you do by erasing your speed, agility, and strength. He’d clearly researched you.

At least, it would've. If you had a quirk.

As effortlessly as before you leapt high to dodge the attack, and whilst turning upside down during the dodge came face to face with the hero. So whilst you took a mental snapshot of his surprised expression of relaxation, he was met with a proud smirk overhead.

You landed with grace, grasping a piece of the cloth in your hand with the other readied your bo staff.

“It didn’t affect you.”

“Maybe I’m immune, or it’s a range issue?” You inquired with an upbeat tone, however even through his visor, you could see him analyse you.

“No, that’s not it.”

This time you maintain eye contact, no doubt he’d figure it out your abilities were purely products of training rather than a quirk, and since he wasn’t attacking your battle was at a stalemate. You gave a light tug on the cloth, hoping it’d encourage a reaction but it wasn’t one you expected.

"You can't keep doing this." Aizawa paused, pulling down his scarf with a slight lift of his lips. "Without a licence."

"What?" The cloth slipped from your fingers, pure shock radiating your form and if he wasn’t serious he’d have taken advantage of that. The fact he remained still and folded his arms only perplexed you further.

"I understand now, without a quirk the odds of getting into any hero course are practically zero. Without that, applying for a license becomes equally as difficult." The underground hero spoke casually, and though a degree of tension had been eased, trust was elusive.

"You work out I'm quirkless and everything comes into the light huh? Although technically, because I'm quirkless, I haven't broken any unauthorised quirk use laws." You wittily replied, and for a second you thought there was amusement but he was quick to make that.

"It was the missing piece of your puzzle."

His calming tone gave you a moment to think, gaze diverted toward the concrete of the roof as you spoke with greater sincerity.

"I hope you know even if practicing without a licence is illegal, I only wanted to help others. Hitting the pro leagues is unrealistic, but an underground hero? That was obtainable if I worked hard."

Erasure Head shoved his hands in his pockets, tilting his head slightly.

"You know, with a recommendation you can take the license exam."

"Haha, and what pro in their right mind would authenticate me? I'm a vigilante in their eyes.” You laughed mockingly, grin falling short when he stepped toward you and offered out a hand.

“I’ll do it.”

The offer was ever so kind and tempting, yet you leaned forward and inspected his palm suspiciously.

“…You’re not gonna slap some handcuffs on my wrist the second I touch your hand are you?”

“Depends if you shock me with that electric device on your palm.”

Small smiles were exchanged, hand slipping into his way far too easily.

“YO YO DID YOU GET THEM?!” The voice boomed as another joined the rooftop, the eccentric man taking in the meaningful look being shared and the still intertwined hands.

“Oho you did~”

———

“AND THATS how I wingmanned Aizawa the ultimate partner.” Mic proudly finished, far too enigmatic in his retelling of the tale to Class 2-A (who you were supposed to be assisting in combat training before Mic gatecrashed).

Meanwhile yourself and Aizawa stared deadpan at the man with a neutrality that could kill.

“Get out of my class.”

“You did not wingman at all.”

Even so, your justification didn’t nullify the awed looks of a few students, nor their cooing chatter. A few knew you were quirkless anyway, but it came as a surprise considering your combat skill. Deku in particular, Mashirao and Shinsō were dedicated students to learning your martial arts.

“That’s adorable! Y’know they worked as a team for a few years, talk about date night.” Mina joyfully told Momo and Jirō, whilst Denki commented next.

“Who knew Aizawa-Sensei was so in love? Oh wait Shinsō did you know about this?”

The student in question looked just as bored as yourself and Shōta, sparing the two of you a sympathetic glance before answering.

“Yeah, I’ve spent enough time training with them to find out.”

“So what happened next?” Uraraka questioned excitedly, the rest of the class seeming to have a similar curiosity.

“Uh, well Shōta helped me apply for a license and after that I became an official underground hero.” You awkwardly replied, only to be abruptly refuted by Mina.

“Nice try (L/n)-san, but that’s not what we’re talking about.”

“That’s—“

“Your ‘serious’ Sensei caught the feels - which were reciprocated but our two lovebirds didn’t know that - and after an explosion, a giant chicken, and a kiss, the rest is history.”

“Mic.”

“When you put it like that, it sounds so strange.” You hummed thoughtfully, recalling the memory yourself and naturally it sparked questions.

“You can’t leave us hanging like that!” Denki cried, urging Present Mic for further information but alas Shōta intervened by gently sending his best friend on his way.

“Alrighty, it was solemn evening in—“

“Out! You all start sparring else I’ll expel you!”

Watching as the class hurriedly partnered up to spar, Aizawa readjusted his scarf when rejoining your side with a huff escaping him.

“He missed out the egg.”

The offhanded additions of Shōta caught you off guard but you laughed regardless, playfully slapping his shoulder.

“Oh yeah, that was my favourite part.” Despite the bemusement, he flicked to you with a challenging raised brow - and quickly you amended your statement. “Aside from the kiss of course.”

“Sure, vigilante.”

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

[azsazz]

Over Ice (Part 8)

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: She’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!!

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3,580

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7)

_________________________________________

Rhysand feels her before he sees her.

That fucking prickling at the nape of his neck like the tip of a burning blade being pressed to his skin. It’s hot, and if he weren’t already sweating, he surely would be with the ire that’s directed his way.

“Don’t look now,” Azriel mutters from beside him where he’s stretching his hips before the big game. Across the ice, the Porcupines are warming up for the game that will start in no time. It’s an important one, but Rhys says this about all of the Bat’s games. He’s been trying to slip into the mindset he’s always in before games, the one where his focus and only focus is scoring goals, but the eyes he feels watching the way his hips cant back and forth as he stretches his groin make igniting that competitive fire in him difficult.

He peeks over his shoulder despite his teammate’s warning, ignoring the scoff Azriel huffs in response. Rhys can practically hear his friend rolling his eyes as he sinks even deeper into the ice.

His eyes clash with the crimson ones he’s seen too much of the past week. Amarantha sits in the stands beside her friend, smiling at Rhysand like a feline, like he’s still hers to mess around with.

Fuck. He didn’t expect to see her around, especially after you and him made your fake relationship all but clear to his ex-girlfriend on Halloween night.

The memory alone makes his stomach clench. Rhysand runs a tongue across his lips as if he can still chase the feeling of you from them. He thought about the kiss you shared for long after you left, and not even the beer nor the shot of fiery whiskey that followed could erase the taste of you from his lips.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” He groans, kicking a leg in front of him and leaning forward. Normally, the stretch would feel good, but with Amarantha behind him and drinking him in like he’s a tall glass of hers, Rhys feels more than uncomfortable.

“I told you not to look,” Azriel responds, rising to his skates. He offers Rhys a hand, and the pair make their way across the ice to the tunnel that leads to the locker room.

He was right, he absolutely shouldn’t have looked. Now he’s not only going to be dodging opponents, but Amarantha’s heavy stare, too.

“What are we doing this weekend?” Cassian asks, sidling up beside his friends. Of course, he’s already wondering what the move is, when the weekend is two days away. He’s not as serious as Rhysand is about hockey, with his blasé attitude. If Cassian can get out on the ice, hit a few guys without serving a penalty or two, he’s as happy as can be. “We should hang out.”

For Rhysand, hockey is his life. Everything else, including the freedoms that most college students prioritize, like parties and hooking up, comes second to the sport he loves.

Well, hooking up has reared its head into Rhysand’s first place spot every once in a while, and he’d be a fool not to reap that particular reward, but look where it’s fucking got him. With a stage-five clinger ex in the audience and a fake girlfriend that’s he’s all but blackmailed.

“We hang out every day,” Rhys answers, reeling over what the hell he’s going to do. He winces when he decides that he a little more blackmail might be in the both of your futures. “We live together.”

While you’ve agreed to pretend to be his girlfriend to prove to his delusional ex-girlfriend that he’s no longer interested, Rhys hadn’t forced you into attending any of his games. He didn’t think that Amarantha would actually show up to them, especially since she never showed any interest in hockey past the jersey she ripped off Rhysand’s body the night they hooked up.

“Humor me,” Cassian replies with a crooked grin, taking his seat beside Rhys at his locker. Rhys ignores his friend, shucks off his gloves, and roots around his locker for his phone to shoot off a text before Coach Devlin makes it into the room for a pre-game pep-talk.

Rhysand: Need you to come to my game. Amara alert.

He started referring to her as that after the unfortunate first meeting where you had pretended to be his girlfriend and called her the wrong name. It brings him a little bit of cruel humor that eases his shoulders that are tight with tension. If you don’t answer, if you have other plans, like a date, he’s screwed.

Rhys hand clenches around his phone instinctively at the thought. He doesn’t like the thought of you out with anyone else, even if you are only in a fake relationship for the sake of warding off his ex. The idea of you laughing at someone else’s jokes, intertwining your fingers with theirs, kissing them, makes his muscles grow tight and fire flash in his veins.

“I’m busy,” he answers lamely to his roommate, who’s shoving the damp hair from his face and awaiting his captains answer obediently. Cassian frowns, but Rhys’ eyes are glued to his screen, awaiting those three little dots to appear that show you’re typing.

It’s true. He’s tutoring you tomorrow night, has a major psych paper of his own that’s due on Friday morning, and then the team is on the bus that afternoon for two consecutive games against the Grizzlies. It’s going to be a draining weekend, but if the team can manage to beat the Stags this weekend, the lack of sleep he’s going to be dealing with will be worth it.

It almost always is.

After a minute of tapping his skate impatiently on the ground and suffering a scythe-sharp glare from Azriel who is trying to get into his own headspace for the game, you respond.

You: Do I have to?

Rhys chews his lip as the thinks. No, you don’t have to, but what kind of supportive relationship would he be in if his girlfriend didn’t show up to his game? Especially when his ex-girlfriend is there and will definitely take notice of your absence?

Rhysand: Please? It’ll be fun.

You: For who?

He bites back a smile. He likes your witty attitude more than he should. Everything that comes out of your sassy mouth surprises him, and he imagines the way the corner of your mouth curved in that self-satisfied smile as you sent the message.

I’ll owe you one, big time, he texts, refraining from adding an innuendo that will surely make you not show up to his game. So, what if he wants to get a little cheeky with his fake girlfriend? At least you know how to give it right back.

You: Like, more than you already do?

The door bangs shut as Coach Devlin steps into the room. Rhysand flicks a look over his shoulder and releases a breath when he sees him conversing with one of the assistant coaches. If Devlin spots him on his phone before the game, there’s going to be hell to pay.

Rhysand: Please. I’ll do anything you want.

You: Deal. You’re lucky that I’m already on my way with Mor.

Relief has his shoulders dropping. Rhys should probably figure out his cousin’s sudden interest in attending his hockey games, but when it’s serving him as well, it isn’t worth questioning.

“Well, are we still planning on hitting Rita’s tomorrow night?” Cassian asks. Rita’s is a dive-bar that for some reason the Velaris Universities hockey team has been going to for decades. Rhys doesn’t know why it’s a thing, since the place is run-down and the beer tastes like watered down piss, but it’s tradition for the team to go the night before big away games.

As the captain of the Bat’s, Rhysand should go. Going to Rita’s the Thursday before game weekends is tradition as much as it is superstition. Which means that the team is there most weekends during the season, which can be utterly exhausting. It’s not required, and he’s pretty sure that the superstition aspect of attending has been proven wrong more than a handful of times, but if he doesn’t show up, the team will give him hell, and it’ll look like he doesn’t care. He hasn’t missed one outing there yet, but this semester is stacking up to be his most difficult, between trying to keep his near-perfect GPA, overseeing an entire hockey team, whilst volunteering to help plan the teams winter philanthropy.

Tack on tutoring one of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen, and Rhys expects himself to drop dead from exhaustion at any second.

“Dunno if I can make it,” Rhys says, shoving his phone back into his locker and collapsing on the bench. “I have a tutoring session.” He’s more than ready to shake off this skittish feeling and get his head into the game. Amarantha’s appearance has already affected him more than he wants, and he doesn’t have a good feeling about the game right now.

You saying that you’ll be attending loosens some of the knots in his stomach.

“Oh,” Cassian waggles his brows suggestively and Rhys rolls his eyes. “A study date?”

“I didn’t say it was a she,” Rhysand snaps back quickly. He’s all but praying that Coach Devlin finishes his conversation quickly so that he can get onto the ice and focus on something that doesn’t involve his girl issues.

“Neither did I.”

Rhys really doesn’t know why he decided to room with Cassian for the past two years.

“Didn’t you just see her on Monday?” Azriel asks as he finishes his pre-game ritual. It involves the utmost silence—which he never gets since the locker room is filled with adrenaline-fueled college boys—and the charm of his necklace clutched tightly between his fingers.

Rhys shrugs. “Yeah, but she needs a lot of help.”

Cassian grins suggestively, and Rhys braces himself for the remark that’s about to roll off his tongue. There’s a fifty percent chance it’s going to be something about Rhys offering her a hand, and a fifty percent chance Cassian will say something about the kiss you shared, but no matter what comes out of his mouth, Rhys knows it will be one hundred percent inappropriate.

Thankfully, Coach saves the day, grunting at all of the players to quiet down so he can make one of his famous pep talks that aren’t at all famous and more barking out orders than talking.

“Alright, boys.” Coach’s presence demands attention, and the locker room goes so quiet Rhysand swears he can hear Amarantha’s high-pitched voice through the concrete. A shudder works its way up his spine and his stomach twists into uneven knots. “This is an important game. I want everyone on their toes. Keep your eyes peeled for open shots, pass accordingly, and don’t tarnish my good name.”

It's the same speech Coach gives before every game, and Rhys can recite it word for word. It’s concise, to the point, and carries enough of a threat that every player in the locker room knows that if they play like shit, there is going to be hell to pay at tomorrow’s practice.

That bad feeling worms its way back into his mind, coiling his muscles with tension. Fuck, if he doesn’t get his head straight, he’s going to play like shit and Coach Devlin won’t have any of that.

Rhys slams his eyes shut, shoves all of the warring thoughts from his mind, and hones in on Coach Devlin’s voice.

Rhysand’s head hasn’t been in the game since there were eighteen minutes and twenty-three seconds left on the clock. He knows this because it’s when he spotted you in the bleachers and his focus latched onto you, causing him to miss a pass from Cassian and a Porcupines player to slam into him.

Only his first mistake of the night.

He’s playing like shit, and everybody knows it.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Azriel grunts as he slides up to Rhys’ side as the play resets. He’d fumbled the puck, badly. By the time he recovered, successfully managing to steal it back during a scrum with a few Porcupines players, he had no ample time to shoot, and his shot dinged off of the goalpost.

“I don’t know,” Rhys mutters, cursing himself. It could just be a bad day, but Rhys doesn’t allow himself to have those. He has to be in tip top shape in case recruiters show up to their games, because they’re the deciding factor in whether he gets any interest from a national league, which is what he’s been working towards since he was four.

He knows. He knows exactly what’s fucking with his head. At first, it was his ex in the stands, but as soon as he caught sight of you, all thoughts of her were fucking obliterated.

You’re wearing that mutilated jersey Mor made you. The one with the hem cut to the high heavens and the collar snipped to the valley of your breasts. He doesn’t know if he wants the shirt so long that it reaches your knees or if he wants to peel it off you completely.

To your knees, definitely to your knees. There are too many people around for the latter. He’d rather see that show in his bedroom while you straddle his lap.

His number on the back of the jersey isn’t helping him keep his mind from latching onto those impure thoughts, either.

Rhysand’s entire weekend was spent replaying the kiss you shared on Halloween. How soft and perfect you were. The hint of fruity lip gloss and tequila that painted your lips was a prominent taste in his mouth for hours after.

He could hardly focus on his homework, at hockey practice. Coach reamed him out after his mistakes had cost the team a two-a-day, and he’s doing the same right now when he told himself that he wouldn’t let you distract him.

And with the way your eyes sparkled when you caught sight of him on the ice only reminds him that while you’re more than upholding your end of the bargain, he still hasn’t had asked coach about getting you that athletic training internship with the team. By the look on coach’s face, cheeks red with anger, jaw clenched so tightly that if Rhys didn’t know he already had a few fake teeth from his own days as a hockey player, he’d worry that he’d grind them into dust.

“Cunningham,” Coach says gruffly when he and Azriel slide onto their spots on the bench. The crowd roars as the second line chases the puck across the ice, playing keep-away from the Porcupines as they search for an opening to take a shot.

Rhys forces his eyes on the puck when he notices his gaze wandering your way. He catches sight of your worried face, your brows pulled together and mouth turned down in a frown. You chew on your lip and it’s fucking tantalizing. He wants that lip trapped between his own—

“Get your head out of your ass.” Coach’s voice appears in his ear and he startles. Fuck, Devlin just caught him openly staring in the stands instead of focusing on the game. He’s totally going to have sprints in his future. “I have no problem benching my captain,” he emphasizes, like the title alone should bring a shroud of shame. It has its desired effect, Rhys ducks his head. He wouldn’t be surprised if he gets a smack to the back of his helmet with Coach’s clipboard. He’s seen it happen before. “The Porcupines aren’t even that good for fuck’s sake, and they’re beating us 2-1!”

He can feel the frustration emanating off his coach in waves. It does nothing to ease the moral of the rest of his teammates, who glance at him from down the bench. Rhysand isn’t making a good impression on his team tonight, and everyone can tell. His cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Come on, asshole, he scolds himself, lifting one of the water bottles to his mouth. The cool water is refreshing, and he gulps down a few sips before tilting his head further back and squirting the liquid down his neck.

“Yes, Coach,” he responds like a scolded child.

When it’s his turn to hit the ice, the mantra he’d been shouting in his head over and over slips away as easy as the terrain beneath his skates. He’s all too aware of the pairs of eyes that follow him as he stakes toward the center mark on the ice for the puck drop. Amarantha’s viper-like gaze sends the hair at the nape of his neck standing, which is a feat in itself because it’s soaked with sweat.

It’s your eyes that give his heart an erratic jump, but Rhysand blames it on adrenaline for the beginning of the second period.

He focuses, shoves away every thought that doesn’t revolve around this game right here and now from his head. He thinks about coach’s threat back on the bench as he gets into position for the puck drop: Get your head out of your ass. I have no problem benching my captain.

So, like the good captain he is, he pulls his head right out of his ass and gets to work.

He wins the faceoff, sending the puck shooting to Azriel, who takes it up the ice with ease. As a Porcupines player closes in on him, his hazel gaze locks on Cassian, who’s two paces in front of the player chasing him down.

Rhys makes himself open as Cassian slams the puck around the rink, using the side boards as a guide. He’s there to catch it behind the opposing goalies net and pushes off the side of his blade, scooping the puck onto the edge of his stick and slamming it into the net right between the goalie’s trapper and his shoulder.

The arena erupts in cheers and Rhys grins. Pride screams down his veins and fills his body with a high that he revels in. His teammates on the ice skate his way, clapping him on his shoulders and helmet, congratulating him on his goal. The worries that had been consuming him eke away now that he’s tied the game.

He can’t help himself, seeking you out in the crowd. Mor is turned to the people sitting beside her, but you’re staring right at him, and his heart gives an extra hard pound in his chest. He tosses a wink your way, and his grin turns feral when you roll your eyes and raise an unimpressed brow.

Oh, you want to see another? He can make that happen.

“Nice shot, bro,” Cassian says, skating beside him to reset in the neutral zone.

“Thanks. Let’s keep them coming.”

Nothing eventful happens within this shift. Then, he’s off the ice, and Rhys’ focus is fully on the game. He feels back in his element, more than ready to prove to you just how good of a player her can be.

It strikes him, how he wants to show off not only for his coach, team, potential scouts, but that he wants to do it for you. He likes the way your eyes follow him across the ice, the way that you’re shouting at the refs when he gets a whistle blown on him even though he’s pretty sure you have no idea what’s going on. It’s cute, the glare you’re shooting at the zebras in his honor as he takes a turn in the penalty box for high-sticking.

He catches a few things that his team can improve on, and his determination only skyrockets. The minutes are winding down, and with the power-play the Porcupines are on, they manage to score and Rhys is out of the box. His eyes flick to the clock: one minute left.

Light work.

The puck hits the ice with a clack and Rhys is locked in. There’s a skirmish for possession, and ultimately, it’s the Porcupines that come out on top. They manage to get it into the Bat’s zone, but the violet-clad players don’t make it easy for them to shoot. Cassian takes a shot to the thigh and he grunts in pain but manages to snag the puck and shoot it up the ice to where Rhys stands between two opposing players.

Before the puck even touches his stick, he’s shooting up the ice, calculating the little black circle’s trajectory. He looks to his left, to his right, all while avoiding the slashing sticks the Porcupines players are trying to dislodge his play with. But he’s too quick. There’s no one around, and the players following him are no match for Rhys’ speed.

His focus zeroes in on the goalie. Through the cage, the player wears a look just as determined as Rhys, but he latches onto that sliver of nerves like a fucking leech, and Rhys knows that he has him.

One, he shuts everything out. The sounds of the crowd fade away, and it’s just him and the net.

Two, Rhys readies for the shot. The goalie creeps to the front of the blue paint and he grins. He has him right where he wants him, faking left and shooting right.

Three, the puck hits the back of the net, the horn blows, and victory is his.

_________________________________________

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[heliosunny]

Bidding for trouble 2

Yandere!Sugilite x Reader

[part 1]

You didn’t understand.

One moment, you were handling paperwork at your desk, and the next, Sugilite was standing there, arms crossed, staring at you with an expression too unreadable for comfort.

And then he said it.

“You’re fired.”

You had laughed at first. Because surely, this was a joke. A ridiculous, elaborate joke. But then he shoved official termination papers onto your desk, and reality crashed down like a hammer.

“What?” Your voice shook despite your best efforts. “You’re serious?”

Sugilite’s face remained unmoving.

“You’re dismissed.”

You searched his gaze, looking for the usual amusement, the smugness, the proof that he was messing with you, but there was nothing. Just cold finality.

No explanation. No reasoning. Just like that, you were erased from the department.

Gone.

The bartender placed another glass in front of you, pity in his eyes.

“You sure you wanna keep going?” he asked. “You’re already pretty far gone.”

You sniffled dramatically. “I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough.”

The man sighed, muttering something about ‘corporate assholes’ before turning away to serve another customer.

You slumped over the bar, utterly miserable.

Fired.

Just like that.

After everything you’d been through, after everything you’d done, Sugilite just tossed you aside like you were nothing.

And the worst part?

He didn’t even seem to care.

You wiped at your eyes, feeling the overwhelming combination of sadness and alcohol making you way too emotional.

“Hey.”

Your head snapped up, only to find Sugilite himself standing there, arms crossed, looking down at you with his usual unimpressed expression.

Your drunken brain short-circuited.

“YOU!”

Sugilite sighed.

“You BASTARD.”

A few heads turned toward your dramatic outburst, but Sugilite ignored them. Instead, he grabbed the empty glass in front of you and pushed it aside.

“You’re done for the night” he said, voice firm.

“You FIRED me” you slurred, jabbing a finger at his chest. “I hope your stupid company goes bankrupt. I hope you choke on your coffee. I hope your stocks plummet.”

Sugilite blinked, then smirked.

“You really do care, huh?”

You let out a pathetic, drunken wail.

“OF COURSE, I CARE! YOU WERE THE BEST—” Your voice cracked. “THE BEST BOSS I EVER HAD, AND YOU THREW ME AWAY LIKE TRASH.”

Sugilite exhaled through his nose. “I didn’t throw you away.”

“YES, YOU DID!”

He frowned. “No, I didn’t.”

“YES. YOU. DID.”

Sugilite ran a hand down his face. “Y/n, enough...”

You pouted, slumping against the bar. “Why are you even here? Did you come to LAUGH at me?”

“The owner called me” he muttered. “Apparently, you’re his problem and mine.”

You huffed. “Not your problem anymore. You FIRED me, remember?”

“…Right.” Sugilite rubbed the back of his neck. “And yet, here I am. Cleaning up after you like always.”

“Like always” you echoed bitterly.

He didn’t say anything to that.

Instead, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you up from your seat.

“Alright, let’s go.”

You whined. “Nooooo. I wanna stay here and drink until I forget you exist.”

“Too bad.”

“Sugiiiiii” you slurred his name like a drunk child, making a few nearby patrons snicker.

Sugilite rolled his eyes. “C’mon, before you start crying again.”

“I ALREADY AM” you cried.

Sugilite just scoffed.

“Yeah, yeah. Get it all out now. Because when you’re sober, you’re gonna owe me big time.”

Your hangover wasn’t even gone yet when trouble found you.

You had woken up still mildly suffering from last night’s antics, and just as you were debating whether you should ever show your face at work again, a cold sensation crawled up your spine.

You weren’t alone.

It was subtle at first, a feeling of being watched.

Then, just as you turned to grab your coat, something moved.

You barely dodged in time. A blade embedded itself where your hand had just been. You reacted on pure instinct, shoving the table forward and knocking your attacker back. The stranger, cloaked, masked, obviously trained—corrected his stance and lunged again.

But you had worked under Sugilite long enough to know how to fight. It wasn’t pretty. You weren’t flawless. But you held your own.

By the time you pinned the guy down, his mask had slipped enough for you to see a distinct mark on his wrist, something that looked eerily familiar to a case Sugilite had been handling before you were fired.

And that’s when it hit you.

This wasn’t a coincidence.

This had everything to do with Sugilite firing you.

But now that you were no longer employed, you had no access to internal IPC reports, no clearance to request mission updates. You were cut off. Sugilite had completely severed your ties with the company to keep you away from this.

But it was too late.

You were already involved.

You knew Sugilite’s employees had a habit of gathering at this bar after work.

So you waited.

Blending in with the usual patrons, you kept your head down, sipping at a glass of water (because you were never drinking again after last night) and listening.

At first, it was just small talk. Complaints about deadlines. A joke about some lower-ranked official messing up paperwork.

“Have you heard? The boss is moving out tomorrow. Said the operation’s gonna be messy.”

“Figures. Heard the guys upstairs saying it’s high-risk.”

“Honestly, I don’t get why he’s handling it personally. He already cut off that assistant of his to keep them out of it.”

“Yeah, but you know how he is. He doesn’t trust anyone else to pull it off.”

“Still, it’s dangerous as hell. Even for him.”

You gripped your glass tighter.

Sugilite had known this mission was bad. That’s why he fired you. He had cut you off completely, knowing you’d try to follow him into it.

But now that you knew just how serious it was, you weren’t going to let it slide.

You weren’t supposed to be here.

That much was obvious.

The moment you stepped onto the outskirts of the mission site, you felt it. The heavy air. The tension that clung to the atmosphere.

Sugilite was here.

Even without official IPC clearance, you had pieced together enough clues to track his movements, stolen mission notes, hushed conversations, the whisper of a deal gone wrong.

And now, you were on the scene.

Just like old times.

Except now, he wasn’t expecting you.

And that made you a liability.

You had barely made it past the outskirts when something shifted in the shadows.

Trained mercenaries. Heavily armed. You didn’t even have time to curse before they rushed you. Your heart pounded, but your body reacted before your mind could process the fear.

It wasn’t perfect, and you weren’t unscathed, but you fought. By the time the last one collapsed, you were panting, bleeding, but standing.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Sugilite stood a few feet away, expression unreadable.

But you knew him.

You knew what that look meant.

He was pissed.

You wiped blood from your lip, forcing a grin. “Hey, boss.”

Sugilite exhaled slowly. “I swear, you are the most stubborn person I have ever met.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is a bad thing” he snapped. “Do you even know what you just walked into?”

You glanced at the unconscious men on the ground.

“Yeah. And I handled it.”

Sugilite rubbed his temples. “You—” He stopped, gritting his teeth. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Too bad,” you shot back. “You can fire me from the company, but you can’t fire me from watching your back.”

“I don’t need you watching my back.”

You scoffed. “Really? Because from where I’m standing, this whole thing looks like a suicide mission.”

Sugilite didn’t respond.

Because you were right.

But before either of you could say anything else, bang.

A single, precise shot

Then, Sugilite staggered back.

“Sugilite—!”

His body hit the ground.

You didn’t remember much after that. Only the panic. The rush to get him out. The feeling of his blood on your hands as you dragged him back, desperate, terrified. By the time you got him to safety, your hands were shaking. You pressed down on the wound, breathing shaky, uneven.

“Stay with me” you whispered. “Please.”

Sugilite didn’t respond. He had pushed you away to keep you safe.

And now, because you had followed, because you had been too stubborn to listen—

You were going to lose him.

The door swung open.

You barely registered Numby’s chirp, but the moment you did, your head snapped up. If Numby was here, then that meant-

“I see you still can’t listen to orders”

You turned, eyes wild with desperation.

“Help him” you choked out. “Please.”

Topaz sighed. “I would, but…”

Then, to your absolute horror, Sugilite chuckled. Slowly, he sat up.

No sign of pain. No sign of actual injury.

Sugilite smirked. “What’s with that face? Thought I died?”

Topaz crossed her arms. “He was wearing a bulletproof vest.”

“You—”

Sugilite grinned. “Faked it.”

“You FAKED IT?!”

“Worked, didn’t it?”

“YOU LET ME HAVE A BREAKDOWN FOR NO REASON?!”

Sugilite just shrugged.

“Consider it payback” he mused. “For making me drag your drunk ass home.”

And that’s when you knew, you were never going to live this down.

Meanwhile,

-----

Bonus – Back at Work

When you walked into the office, everyone was staring at you.

You barely had time to sit down before one of your coworkers leaned over.

“So,” they whispered, grinning, “I heard you confessed your undying loyalty to Sugilite while drunk.”

You slowly turned to glare at Sugilite.

He was across the room, watching you smugly.

The bastard definitely told everyone.

And that’s when you knew, this was never going to end.

-----

The atmosphere in the meeting hall was heavy, a weight that could not be seen but was undeniably felt.

Around the grand table sat the Ten Stonehearts, each commanding their own authority. Some leaned back in their chairs, others sat upright with hands folded, and a few were already tapping away at holographic screens, preparing for the discussion at hand.

At the head of the table, Topaz exhaled slowly, fingers drumming against the armrest of her chair. She wasn’t one for needless meetings, but this case wasn’t something they could afford to ignore.

A familiar, lazy voice broke the silence.

“So, what’s the damage this time?”

Another voice, calm but firm, cut in.

“Sugilite went too far.”

Pearl. Ever composed, ever professional. “This case was supposed to be handled under standard IPC regulations. Instead, you disregarded protocol and took matters into your own hands.”

A low scoff came from Sugilite’s seat.

“And?”

Pearl's expression remained impassive. “You faked an employee’s termination, went radio silent, staged your own injury, and deliberately excluded us from the process.”

Sugilite leaned back in his chair, resting an arm over the backrest lazily. “Still got the job done, didn’t I?”

Aventurine chuckled. “He’s got a point.”

“This isn’t about whether or not you succeeded. It’s about the fact that you acted independently, with no authorization, on a case that turned out to be larger than what we initially believed.”

Sugilite’s expression darkened.

“Yeah. And what do you think would’ve happened if I waited for authorization?” His tone was cool, but there was an underlying edge to it. “The situation was rotting from the inside. If I didn’t move when I did, we’d still be tangled in red tape while those bastards continued their business as usual.”

Sugilite wasn’t wrong.

Topaz finally spoke.

“Sugilite knew something we didn’t. That’s why he went off the radar. The enemy he was dealing with wasn’t just another financial dispute.”

She pulled up a holographic display, and suddenly, the true depth of the case became visible. Files. Communications. Traces of an underground operation that had remained undetected for years.

“The people Sugilite was dealing with weren’t just corrupt businessmen. This was part of a larger network, one that deals in illegal trading, smuggling, and possibly… slavery.”

The word hung in the air.

Aventurine’s smirk faded. Even Pearl remained quiet.

Opal’s fingers tapped against the table.

“You all think I’m reckless.”

“That’s because you are” Opal muttered.

Sugilite ignored him. “But you know what’s worse than being reckless?” He looked at each of them, voice dropping. “Doing nothing. I believe we all value the final result.”

His words settled heavily.

“I have bigger fish to fry.”

He had recognized the signs.

Aventurine was the first to break the silence. “Well, well. Looks like our dear Sugilite wasn’t just playing hero after all.”

Topaz gave him a look. “You’re not invincible, you know.”

“You sure? Because last time I checked, I walked in here just fine.”

“You walked in here after making your assistant have a full-blown breakdown because they thought you died.”

Sugilite winced.

Yeah. That wasn’t his best move.

Aventurine chuckled. “What, feeling guilty now?”

Sugilite scowled. “Of course not.”

Topaz sighed. “Regardless, the mission is complete. But there are still loose ends. And knowing you…” She gave him a knowing look. “You’re not done yet, are you?”

Sugilite didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he exhaled slowly, gaze sharp.

“No” he said finally. “Not yet.”

“In that case, I'll take over.”

[guilty-ff]

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐏𝐭.1

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘��� ˚⁎⁺˳ .

Wade Wilson, still haunted by the loss of his fiancée Vanessa, finds himself in a new relationship with Y/n, a bright and caring presence in his life. As the weight of his past threatens to pull him under, tensions rise, and buried emotions come to the surface.

This story takes place between the second and third movies (warning: not 100% movie/comic accurate)

Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x (fem!)Reader

Genre: Angst, revenge, Fanfiction, Marvel

Warnings: Movie Spoilers! Explicit content, swearing, torture, mental health, weapons

Word count: 2499

The night had started out like any other, with the hum of the city outside Y/n’s apartment filling the quiet spaces between her thoughts. She glanced around the room, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light on the scene she had carefully prepared.

Balloons and streamers, a playful nod to Wade’s twisted sense of humor, hung from the ceiling, swaying gently in the draft coming through the open window. She would laid out his favorite snacks- Chimichangas and an assortment of junk food that would make any expert on diet faint- and the TV was ready to blast his favorite old-school movies.

It had been a year since Wade had stumbled into her life, a broken man who had just lost the love of his life, Vanessa. But even in his grief, his pain, there had been something that drew her to him. His wit, his relentless, dark humor, and the vulnerability he tried so hard to hide behind that mask.

Over time, what started as a tentative friendship had blossomed into something more- a relationship that was complicated, messy, and sometimes painful, but it was real.

Y/n had always tried to be there for him, understanding that Vanessa’s memory still lingered in every corner of his mind. But tonight, she wanted to remind him of how much he meant to her, how much she loved him. She could not erase his past, but she wanted to be a part of his future.

She grabbed her jacket and hurried out of the apartment, excitement bubbling in her chest as she made her way to Sister Margaret’s, the dingy bar where Wade spent most of his nights.

The cold night air nipped at her skin, but it did not dampen her spirits. She could already imagine the look on his face when she brought him back to the apartment, the smile that would light up his eyes, even if just for a moment.

As she approached the bar, the familiar neon sign buzzing overhead, she slowed her pace, hoping to catch Wade off guard. But as she drew closer, she noticed something that made her pause.

The air was thick with the lingering scent of spilled alcohol, sweat, and the faintest trace of cigarette smoke, remnants of a night that had long since died out.

Wade sat hunched over the bar, his mask discarded to the side. His scarred face was partially emphasised by the dim, yellow light above the counter, the harsh reality of his appearance laid bare in the quiet gloom.

He was nursing a glass of whiskey, but the drink had gone untouched for the last hour, its amber liquid barely rippling as he sat there, lost in thought.

They were seated at their usual spot at the bar, but the atmosphere between them was anything but casual.

Weasel leaned against the counter opposite Wade, his expression a mix of concern and frustration. They had been sitting in silence for what felt like an eternity, the heavy atmosphere weighing down on them both.

“We need to talk, Wade,” Weasel finally broke the silence, his voice low but firm. “And I’m not letting you dodge this one.”

Wade did not respond immediately, his eyes still fixed on the untouched whiskey in front of him. He let out a slow, tired sigh, running a hand over his face, feeling the rough texture of his scars under his fingertips. He knew where this was going, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for it.

“Do you genuinely love Y/n?” Weasel asked, his tone more direct now. “Or are you still hung up on Vanessa?”

The question hung in the air like a noose, tightening around Wade’s throat. He could feel the weight of it pressing down on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up, couldn’t bring himself to face Weasel’s probing gaze.

“Come on, man,” Weasel pushed, his frustration seeping through. “You’ve been with Y/n for a year now. She’s been there for you through all your shit, but you’re still acting like you’re half in, half out. What’s going on in that fucked-up avocado head of yours?”.

Wade exhaled sharply, his fingers tightening around the glass. He knew Weasel was right. Y/n had been his rock, his light in the darkness. But Vanessa…her memory clung to him like a second skin, a constant reminder of what he had lost and what he could not let go.

“Why do you have to dig so fucking deep, Weasel?” Wade muttered, finally lifting his gaze to meet Weasel’s. His voice was rough, laced with a bitterness that he could not quite hide.

“Because someone has to, Wade,” he shot back, his patience wearing thin. “Y/n deserves better than this. She deserves to know if you’re actually in this with her, or if you’re just using her to fill the void Vanessa left behind.”

Wade flinched at the harsh truth in Weasel’s words. He did not want to admit it, but a part of him knew that Y/n was getting the short end of the stick. She was kind, funny, and more understanding than anyone had any right to be. But he could not shake the feeling that he was just going through the motions, too scared to fully let go of Vanessa, even after all this time.

“What would you do if Vanessa walked through that door right now?” Weasel pressed, the question like a dagger twisting in Wade’s chest. “Would you drop everything and go back to her? Would you throw Y/n aside like she was nothing?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Wade opened his mouth to respond, but the words would not come. He did not know what he would do, and that uncertainty was tearing him apart.

His hands shook slightly as he finally took a sip of the whiskey, the burn of the alcohol doing nothing to numb the ache inside him.

“Fuck, Wade,” Weasel’s voice was laced with exasperation. “Why are you still hung up on Vanessa? She’s gone, man. Y/n is here, now. But if you can’t let go of the past, you need to let Y/n go. She deserves someone who’s all in, not someone who’s stuck living in the fucking shadows.”

Wade felt like he was suffocating, the walls of the bar closing in on him as Weasel’s words echoed in his mind. He knew Weasel was right. He knew he was being unfair to Y/n. But knowing it didn’t make it any easier to untangle the mess of feelings he had inside him.

In her panic, Y/n stumbled forward, her foot catching the edge of a loose floorboard. The creak was loud, too loud, and before she could stop herself, her presence was revealed. Wade and Weasel turned their heads towards the sound, their conversation abruptly cut off.

Y/n froze, her wide eyes meeting Wade’s for a split second before the crushing weight of realization hit her. The pain in her chest flared up, sharp and unyielding, as the reality of what she’d overheard began to settle in.

She had heard everything.

Wade’s heart dropped to the floor, the reality of the situation crashing down on him like a big wave. He had not wanted her to hear that. He had not wanted her to know just how conflicted he was, how much of a fucking mess he really was.

“Shit…” he breathed, the word barely audible as panic began to claw at the edges of his mind. His hands shook, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps as he watched Y/n’s expression crumble.

For a moment, everything seemed to stand still. The air was thick with unspoken words, the tension between them almost unbearable. Wade wanted to say something, to reach out and pull her back, to explain, to apologize- but he was frozen, unable to move, unable to find the right words.

Before either of them could move, before Wade could say anything, the sound of footsteps broke the tension. Dopinder appeared at the doorway, his usual cheerful smile plastered on his face as he walked in.

“Weasel, I’m done cleaning the toilets. You won't believe me that I haven’t puked-” Dopinder announced proudly, clearly pleased with himself, his voice cutting through the suffocating silence.

Weasel’s eyes went wide with panic as he snapped his head towards Dopinder, mouthing frantically, “Shut the fuck up, don't you dare!”

He gestured sharply, his wide eyes practically bulging out of his head as he tried to silently communicate the gravity of the situation.

Dopinder’s smile faltered as he caught on, his gaze shifting from Weasel to Wade, then to Y/n, who was already backing away, her face twisted in pain.

“Uh… I’ll, uh… be going now…” Dopinder stammered awkwardly, his previous cheer vanishing as he quickly turned on his heel and disappeared back to the bathroom stalls.

The room fell back into a heavy silence, the weight of what had just happened crashing down on Wade as he turned his attention back to Y/n, who was already starting to retreat, her steps shaky and unsteady.

“Y/n, wait!” Wade’s voice cracked as he stumbled to his feet, knocking over the barstool in his haste. The sudden movement made his vision blur, his head spinning as the panic attack tightened its grip on him.

The world around her blurred as she shoved open the bar’s back door, the night air hitting her like a wall. She kept running, her legs carrying her further away from the bar, from Wade, from everything she thought she knew.

He pushed through the hallway, his heart pounding in his chest, the walls closing in on him with every step. His breath came in short, hectic bursts, his lungs struggling to keep up as he tried to catch up to her. The cold night air hit him like a slap to the face as he burst out of the bar and onto the empty street.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Wade cursed under his breath, his vision narrowing to a pinpoint as he spotted Y/n running down the street. His legs felt like they were made of lead, each step a monumental effort as he tried to push through the haze of panic that was clouding his mind.

Y/n was running blindly, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps as she fought to keep the rising panic at bay. The cold air stung her lungs, but she didn’t care. She just needed to get away, to escape the crushing weight of what she’d heard, of the pain that was suffocating her.

Her mind was spinning, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it was going to burst. Every breath was a struggle, the air thick and heavy as she tried to hold back the tears that blurred her vision. She could not breathe, could not think- the world was closing in on her, the shadows pressing down until she felt like she was drowning.

Wade was still chasing after her, his own panic attack crashing over him like a fucking freight train. His chest felt like it was being crushed, the air refusing to stay in his lungs as his vision darkened at the edges, the world spinning out of control.

The cool night air did nothing to ease the fire raging in her chest. Her vision blurry, dark spots dancing at the edges as her breathing became more erratic. The street was mostly empty, the distant sounds of the city muted against the blood rushing in her ears.

Y/n stumbled to a stop, her hands clutching at her chest as she gasped for air, her vision narrowing to a pinpoint of light surrounded by suffocating darkness. Panic had gripped her entirely now, her mind racing with the realization that she would never truly had Wade’s heart.

He was still lost in his past, in his memories of Vanessa. And where did that leave her? Nowhere, just a placeholder, a stand-in for a love that was never hers to begin with.

Her legs buckled, and she collapsed onto the cold, hard pavement, her body trembling as she tried to suck in air, but it felt like her lungs were being crushed under an unbearable weight. Tears spilled down her cheeks, her sobs echoing through the empty street, each one more desperate than the last.

“Y/n!” he shouted, his voice barely more than a rasp, swallowed by the night as he pushed himself harder, his heart hammering in his chest like it was trying to break free.

But it was too late.

As Y/n tries to stand up and moving back, her foot caught on the uneven pavement, sending her stumbling into the street. The blinding headlights of an oncoming truck cut through the darkness, the screech of tires filling the air as the driver slammed on the brakes-

But it was too late.

The world seemed to slow down, everything happening in agonizing detail as Y/n’s body crumpled beneath the impact. The sound of the collision echoed through the empty street, a sickening thud that made Wade’s heart stop in his chest.

“NO!” Wade’s scream was raw, filled with a pain that tore through him like a blade. He felt like he was being ripped apart from the inside as he watched the woman he loved be ripped away from him by death yet again.

He collapsed to his knees beside her lifeless body, his hands trembling violently as he reached out, his fingers brushing against her skin, still warm but rapidly cooling. Blood pooled around her, seeping into the cracks of the pavement, the red stark against the cold, unyielding concrete.

Wade’s vision blurred, his chest heaving with ragged breaths that did nothing to ease the crushing weight on his chest. The panic attack had him in its grip, squeezing tighter and tighter until he thought his heart was going to fucking explode.

“Fuck…no, no, no, no…” Wade choked out, his voice breaking as he cradled Y/n’s body, rocking back and forth as the reality of what had just happened crashed over him.

He could not breathe, could not think- the world was spinning out of control, the edges of his vision going dark as he was consumed by the panic, the grief, the overwhelming sense of loss that was suffocating him.

And as the night stretched on, the silence was broken only by Wade’s broken sobs, echoing through the empty street as he held Y/n close, the weight of everything he’d lost crashing down on him, leaving him utterly, devastatingly alone.

Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing in her ears, drowning out the background noise. She felt her throat tighten as she strained to hear Wade’s response, the heavy words sinking deep into her chest. But there was nothing-just a deep, unsettling quiet.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

ok so this was SUPPOSED to be just a scene in my fic but now idk if i should make it a one-shot bc DAMNN

i was just writing & building up this scene in my fic and then my brain just fucking broke. because. WHAT IF

so imagine bursting into Ford's lab (pre portal) bc you need to find Ford’s journal (for the plot). u know there’s something in there, smth about shutting the portal down and u can't let Bill get his hands on it

but the second you see Ford you know it's not him because of his posture & intonation of voice is wrong too. when he finally turns to face you his eyes are yellow

Bill finds it hilarious, he thinks ur nothing, weak, dumb, not even worth worrying about so he just. lets you in

he’s leaning against the workbench, throwing out some "aww, you came all this way for me, sweetheart?" just bullshit, probably trying to get under ur skin but you don't take the bait, don't even look at him

and then you just start smashing his shit and BILL FREEZES. genuine panic for the first time. because you're destroying everything they worked on. ur hands sweep across the workbench, smashing glass, overturning notes, sending stacks of delicate calculations flying

“HEY” you don't stop, grabbing the nearest equipment and throwing it, sending a monitor crashing, the screen shattering into a mess of exposed wires and ruined circuits.

Ford (Bill) panics like “WHOA, WHOA, WHOA, OKAY, RELAX, SWEETHEART, LET’S NOT—”

“HEY, THOSE TAKE TIME, Y’KNOW—”

you don't give a fuck bc you need to find that damn journal while Bill is trying to dodge the chaos, scrambling to grab whatever’s left, floundering.....

so when your back is facing him Bill lunges, wanting to attack you BUT THEN BUT THEN BUT THENNNNNNN you whirl around with Ford's journal in hand and Bill stops immediately because there’s a memory gun pressed right between his fucking eyes!!!! (well Ford's eyes but you get me)

for the first time Bill actually feels threatened. but no no no he doesn’t let it show, he won’t let it show. instead his lips curl

i haven't figured out what he's going to say yet, still working on dialogue but maybe something as:

“ohhhh, baby, ya don’t wanna do that.”

“what, you really gonna do it? really gonna erase your precious genius from his own mind? gonna wipe out every little memory he’s ever had? everything you've ever shared?”

“oh, c'mon, u really wanna erase ALL that? all that brainpower? all those little memories? what was it, your first date? your first kiss?”

and all of that while he takes a step forward, coming closer until he's right in front of you. he leans in. presses you back against the workbench

“you really wanna lose all that? cause lemme tell ya, dummy, he won’t remember a damn thing about you.”

ur finger twitches on the trigger and Bill is like “aw, don’t feel bad,” while wrapping Ford's fingers around your wrist. “you humans and your little attachments. it's cute, really. adorable, even. but c’mon, sweetheart. we both know you ain’t gonna do it. you don’t wanna hurt our lovely braniac. deep down, you know he'd never forgive you”

“Ford would rather forget me than be your puppet.” you say

anyways

im still thinking about how i should write this scene. it can be two ways

1. you grip the gun tighter and Bill tilts his head, his grin widens and then that freak leans forward until the barrel of the gun slides past his lips. “y'know, Ford's got a real sensitive gag reflex.”

2. Bill leans in and presses his forehead against the barrel. “go on, sweetheart, pull the trigger. pull that trigger and poof! your little nerd loses everything.”

anyways bill cipher you are a whore that's all i wanted to say

[niishii]

you snooze, you lose—fraken stein x fem!reader insert

Summary; in which stein attemps to find you guilty of sleeping while grading papers.

Warnings; none, just fluff!

Authors note; ask and you shall receive. thank you all for voting in my latest poll! expect another one soon!

"Getting sleepy, aren't we?"

You lifted your head from the stack of papers on your desk that were desperately in need of being graded. "Not at all. I'm just resting my eyes," you said, picking up the red pen that had somehow slipped from your fingers.

Stein scoffed, rolling towards your desk in the chair he sat in backwards. "Yeah, right, sleepy," he said, poking your cheek. "I saw you drooling."

Lazily, you slapped his hand away. "In your dreams, cheater. At least I'm actually grading papers." Playfully, you snatched the unlit cigarette from his lips and tossed it in the trashcan next to you. "Also, there's no smoking in my classroom."

Like a lost puppy, he braced his chin on his wrists and pouted, easing forward until his chair hit the front of your desk. You were now face to face with him, though you lowered your head back down to the essay you were in the middle of grading - right before he could place a kiss on your lips.

"But, I finished grading," he replied in playful defense.

You lifted your head and looked past his shoulder at the numerous stacks of paper haphazardly towered over a smooth wooden surface. You lifted a brow at your opponent.

"Okay...so I only graded one stack," he added quickly, sitting up in his chair, blocking your view of the mountain of papers behind him. "But at least I haven't snored yet."

"I do not snore," you said defensively as he began to laugh. In the midst of his contagious laughter, he threw his head back, the ceiling light reflecting off of his glasses. Before he could compose himself, he slipped and the chair went down with him in a loud crash.

Smirking, you peered over your desk at your boyfriend on the floor. Your chin resting in your palm.

"Aha! So you were sleeping!" He pointed at you from below, adjusting his glasses as if the chair had packed a good punch to his face on his way down.

"You have no proof," You said simply before standing from your chair. You turned to face the blackboard and began erasing your notes in hopes of getting more energy circulating through your veins.

"Ah, but I do, pretty," he replied, pulling himself to his feet. He wiped the dust from his lab coat and clumsily stepped over the squeaky chair before making his way towards you. Wordlessly, he took your wrist, the one erasing notes from the board, and held it up. "Exhibit A."

His thumb ran over the imprint marks from you leaning on your spiral bound notebook. The marks ran from the back of your hand to your forearm.

"So?" You gently took your wrist back and faced the board again. "Doesn't mean I was sleeping."

"Exhibit B," he said, continuing his charade. He reached out to touch your chin, gently turning your head to face him. His thumb swept just below your eyes. "Large pupils, droopy eyelids."

"Which indicate what, Stein?"

Stein smirked and whispered, "Sleep deprivation," before kissing your cheek.

You stifled a soft laugh and turned your chin away from his grasp. You playfully rolled your eyes despite the heat rising to your cheeks.

"And what's your final submission of evidence?" You asked before using your other hand to stifle an untimely yawn.

"Exhibit C," he said, pointing at you with a smirk.

Playfully, you swatted at him like he was a pesky fly, but he dodged your attempts easily. "Good thing you're a scientist," you mumbled in between yawns and giggles. "Because you'd be a terrible lawyer."

Nodding in agreement, he took both your cheeks in his hollowed hands and placed a kiss on your lips.

"Yeah, right. I'd be a fantastic lawyer, and you know it."

[guilty-pleasures21]

The last of the real ones

No context, no explanations. Just words and emotions spilling onto my keyboard. Listen to the songs for the full experience.

An only child of the universe

The waves

Wet concrete pt II

This whole damn city

Does your therapist know?

Too good to be true

The only one

Warnings: descriptions of grief and brief references to suicide.

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

“I will shield you from the waves. If they find you, I will protect you.”

     She stared him down, her daggers held protectively in front of her. She didn't know who this ‘Red Hood’ hooligan was and she didn't care. All she cared about was defending her city to her very last breath, just like her precious Jason had done. She didn't think she'd survive when he'd been stolen from her - her best friend, her confidante, her soulmate - but then she'd vowed to make The Joker pay for what he'd done. She would stay alive, she'd promised Jason over his grave, if only to make sure that The Joker would suffer for as long and as hard as she had to. 

     “Looks like the little birdie chose the wrong night to walk the streets alone,” one of the Hood’s goons chuckled, loading his gun and taking aim at her. “You should- Ahh!”

     The man yelled in surprise when a bullet grazed the edge of his hand, knocking his weapon to the ground. He turned to the Hood, who kept his gun trained on the man even as his gaze remained fixed on the doomed vigilante standing before them. “What the-”

     “You will not … touch her,” the Hood warned them, his disguised voice firm and unflinching as he gave the command. He turned to the man, his features concealed entirely by the darkened visor of his helmet, and the man stepped back in line. 

     Jason tucked his gun back in its holster and turned back to his best friend, the one neither death nor torture had ever been able to erase from his heart. She looked … so much the same that it physically hurt. The same dark curls, the same full lips, the same soft cheeks … He took a step closer to her, his fingers aching with the need to reach out and touch her; to pull her to him and find out if she still smelled of lavenders, if she still felt as soft as his favourite pillow, if the feeling of holding her in his arms still loosened the tightness in his stomach and the knot in his chest. But she kept her daggers held up in front of her, that determined expression remaining on her face even as she had to crane her neck back to hold his gaze. Jason's breath hitched in his throat at the revelation of how much smaller than him she was now, and he held a hand back to his henchmen, waving them away. They shuffled around in confusion, unsure what to do, so he twisted around to yell at them. “Go! I'll deal with this.”

     Her eyes flickered briefly over to the disappearing goons, just as bewildered as she was, then she returned her gaze to the Red Hood. He stared at her, waiting until everyone had left; until it was just the two of them, alone on a dimly lit street in the middle of a Gotham at war. Then he raised his fists and got into a fighting stance. 

     She didn't know how long they'd been fighting for, but her frustration had continued to grow with every movement he made - his dodges, his blocks, the way he somehow anticipated her every move and caught her fist or ankle before she could hit him. It was just like Jason. Her Jason. Her best friend, who'd trained with her every day until they could practically read each other's minds. Her soulmate, whose death had shattered her into pieces, leaving her incomplete and unable to ever be fixed. She screamed at this wicked stranger, who didn't deserve to remind her of her precious Jason and hit him harder, pummelling him until her arms were numb and her throat was raw and she could barely stand anymore. And still, he never hit her back. 

     “Just kill me already!” she sobbed, falling to her knees before him. “I can't do this anymore! I can't- … I can't do this without you, Jay, I'm sorry …”

     Jason froze, feeling like someone had shot a cannonball through his chest and ripped his heart out. How long had it been since he'd heard her voice? He'd remembered the sound of it, enough for it to fill his dreams every night since he'd been forced back to life, but … he'd never heard it sound so … raw. So tired and so full of pain. He doubled over and sucked in a breath, desperately trying to pull some air back into his drowning lungs. Then finally, his heart relaxed and his breathing slowed. Jason inhaled deeply, then hesitantly crouched down beside his best friend.

     He wasn't sure if she would scream at him again or recoil away from him in disgust, so he reached out her with his fingers first, carefully stretching them in her direction. X didn't react, too deep in her own anguish to notice that he hadn't left - that he was still there, still waiting patiently by her side - so, Jason wrapped her up in his arms and pulled her to him. A wave of relief flooded his chest as his best friend collapsed against him, her body shuddering with pained sobs. Jason lay his head on hers, breathing in the same lavender scent that had never failed to soothe the pounding of his heart, and held her securely while she cried. He didn't know how long they stayed like that - a minute? An hour? An eternity? - but it still felt much too soon when she finally gasped and wrenched herself away from him. Jason looked up with parted lips as X shot to her feet, her movements so sudden that he almost didn’t register the hateful glare she fixed him with - almost. 

     “Get away from me!” she screeched. Then, before he could even begin to rise to his feet, she was gone, disappearing into the night.

“Write our names in the wet concrete.” 

     He wasn’t sure where she might have gone, but after wandering Gotham for a bit, Jason found himself by the now abandoned orphanage his best friend used to live in before he’d convinced Bruce to adopt her too. He crossed the grounds behind the building, making his way to the overgrown tree at the end, and stopped when he reached it. 

     ‘There!’ X had declared, stepping back and admiring her handiwork. ‘It’s perfect!’ 

     Jason had tilted his head, studying the words she’d so painstakingly carved into the bark. ‘You’re getting really good with those knives.’

     X had grinned at his praise and tucked her shiny new daggers back into their pockets on either side of her belt. Bruce had allowed them to go on patrol by themselves while he’d dealt with one of his usual villains and they’d ended up at the orphanage by an old oak tree X had used to play under when she'd lived there.

     ‘Are you kids done?’ Jason and X had turned around in surprise, caught off guard by Bruce’s sudden appearance. They’d quickly clasped their hands behind their backs and shot Bruce equally guilty smiles. But though his eyes had flickered to the words they’d carved into the front of the tree, he'd said nothing about their vandalism and instead, gestured for them to start heading home. 

     Jason reached up and traced his fingers across the carving: Robin x Nightingale. A challenge to the world, a promise to one another … a vow he'd failed to keep. Suddenly, he felt a blade pressing against the side of his throat. “Don’t you dare lay your fingers on that.” 

     Jason inhaled a shaky breath and raised his hands in the air, letting her know that he wasn’t about to hurt her. X loosened her grip slightly and Jason took it as a sign to turn around. He waited patiently as her eyes roved over his darkened visor, desperately searching for any hint of his features, and stole the opportunity to study hers in turn. She looked … angry. The same kind of angry he’d spent months - years - letting fuel his training while he’d been in the League of Assassins. The same kind of angry that festered within him during every waking moment, devouring everything in its path until there was nothing left inside of him but the anger, the anger, the anger. So, he offered her the only thing he had. “If you need to fight-”

     “I don’t want to fight!” X screamed, lowering her hand back to her side. “I’m sick and tired of fighting all the time!” 

     She threw her knife into the ground, burying the blade in the soil, and took a few steps away from him. “Why do all you men want to fight so badly?! Just leave me the hell alone or help me die in peace.” 

    She sank to the ground and pulled her knees into her chest, curling up into herself in the same way she’d always done as a child. Jason’s heart squeezed at the sight - at her words, so despondent and defeated - and lowered himself to the ground too. X kept her head tucked into her chest as they sat in silence and Jason took advantage of her lowered gaze to study the rest of her, meticulously taking notes on all the parts of his best friend that were the same and all the parts that had changed. Eventually, when the silence had stretched on long enough that he worried she’d forgotten that he was even there, Jason dropped his gaze to the ground and began tracing circles in the dirt. His heart thudded rapidly in his chest as he gathered up the courage to speak … Then finally, he forced the words out. “I still think ‘Dove’ suits you better.” 

     The world stopped moving and she could swear her heart shot up into her throat at his words. X looked up at the Red Hood, stunned by his knowledge of the familiar nickname - the one only one person in the entire world had ever called her by … but it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be, it couldn’t be, it couldn’t be; every rational part of her told her that it couldn’t be her Jason … and yet, her heart continued to pound against her ribs with hope. She didn’t breathe as the Hood got to his feet and slowly removed his helmet, revealing to her dark and slightly overgrown hair with an unfamiliar white streak running through the fringe. It felt like another age passed before he finally looked up at her, fixing her with the same moss-green eyes that had haunted her dreams since she’d seen the light drain out of them on the floor at that warehouse, all those years ago. She sucked in a breath as her eyes sprinted desperately across his features, matching all the now faded scars with the wounds she’d remembered carefully cleaning on her precious Jason’s unmoving face: a strip through his right eyebrow, a nick on the left side of his cupid’s bow, a slice along the right underside of his jaw … He looked a little older now, a little more battered and a little more angry, but still … her Jason. 

     She shot to her feet and covered her mouth as a sob escaped her throat. Jason gazed at her with a sorry expression - silently apologising for not having told her earlier - but she still didn’t seem to believe that it really was him. 

     “How dare you!” she screamed, furious at this stranger who had stolen the face of her sweet and precious little Jason. “What the hell do you …?! How can you …?!”

     She took a step towards him with each unfinished sentence, until she was standing close enough to raise her hand in the air and pull it back in preparation. But the stranger caught her wrist before the slap could land on his face, his gaze fixed entirely on hers. 

     “It’s me, X,” he whispered, his voice low and deep and unfamiliar. She gasped at the sound of her name in his new voice - the name no one outside the Batfamily would know to call the vigilante Nightingale by - then she ripped her mask off and tossed it aside, wanting a closer look at him, needing to believe that it really was her Jason. 

     Another sob fell from her lips as she crumpled against him and Jason released her wrist to slide his arms around her. X cupped his face in her hands, her smooth skin catching on the rough bumps of his stubble as she brushed her fingers along the now sharp lines of his cheekbones and jaw.

     “How?” she whispered, the tears dripping down her cheeks as her eyes flickered back up to the one part of him that hadn’t changed in the slightest. Jason clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on her waist. 

     “Ra’s …” he began, cutting himself off when the name curled around his heart and squeezed. He glanced to the side, unable to look at his best friend’s sweet face as memories of all the torture he’d had to endure at the hands of that monster raced through his mind. “... brought me back.”

     X pulled his gaze back to hers, her touch gentle but firm. And suddenly - for what felt like the first time since he'd been reborn - Jason Todd could breathe again. 

     He watched in silence as she glided her hands along his neck, his shoulders, his chest. He’d grown so much since she’d last seen him, so much so that she hadn’t even been able to recognise him when he’d been standing right in front of her! But his heart still beat to the same rhythm and his eyes still lit up the same way whenever she met them and his scent still smelled of mint and freshly-watered grass. She whimpered softly, finally allowing herself to believe that he was real - he was real and he was there, right in front of her! - and Jason circled his arms completely around her.      

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body so tightly against his that he could feel her heart beating through her chest and against his. Jason pressed his lips into her hair and hugged her back just as firmly, vowing to himself to never let her go again - because nothing, he knew, would ever feel as right as this moment here, holding his best friend in his arms; the only person who had ever loved him as fiercely as he, too, had always loved her.

Tags: @stormz369

[blossom-shy]

From Shadows to Sunlight

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Dazai Osamu x female Reader

Summary: The Port Mafia's executive office used to feel cold and dark, reflecting Dazai's turmoil hidden behind a mask of indifference. Once, he had explained his attachment to the darkness, but now, in the bright halls of the Armed Detective Agency, he had transformed, sporting a playful demeanor and a starkly different outfit. Despite his cheerful antics to escape paperwork, remnants of his darker past still lingered, manifesting in reflective moments on the rooftop. However, as you spent time with him, you noticed a significant shift; his focus had moved from despair to appreciating the small joys of life. The balance between his shadows and the light of newfound happiness became evident as he expressed his changing perspective on the world. Ultimately, this transformation did not erase his essence but added depth to his character, showcasing that meaningful change is about embracing new ways to be oneself. Laughter and shared experiences painted the sky of their relationship in vibrant colors, symbolizing hope and renewal.

-----------------------------------------------The Port Mafia's executive office felt colder than usual that night. You remembered how Dazai used to sit there, draped in black, a carefully crafted mask of indifference hiding the turmoil beneath. His bandages were always pristine, but his eyes held shadows deeper than the harbor waters.

"Why do you stay?" you had asked him once, voice barely above a whisper in that dark office.

He had simply smiled, that empty smile that never reached his eyes. "Because the darkness is familiar."

But that was then.

Now, standing in the bright halls of the Armed Detective Agency, you watched as Dazai lounged on the office couch, his white shirt a stark contrast to his former attire. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, catching the playful glint in his eyes as he dodged Kunikida's exasperated attempts to make him complete his paperwork.

"[Name]-chan!" he called out cheerfully, using you as an excuse to escape his partner's lecture. "Save me from this workaholic!"

You couldn't help but smile, remembering how different things had been. The transition hadn't been easy – there were still nights when you'd find him on the roof, staring at the city lights with that distant look in his eyes. But those moments grew rarer with each passing day.

"Some things never change," you said, watching him dramatically hide behind you. "Still avoiding work?"

"Ah, but now I avoid it with style!" He grinned, and this time it reached his eyes, warm and genuine. "Besides, wouldn't you rather get coffee with me? I know this wonderful little café..."

Kunikida threw his hands up in defeat, muttering about impossible partners and wasted potential.

The weight of the past still lingered sometimes, like a shadow at sunset. But as you walked with Dazai through Yokohama's bustling streets, watching him point out shapes in the clouds and dramatically recite poetry about the beauty of life (while still occasionally suggesting absurd suicide pacts), you realized something had fundamentally shifted.

The darkness hadn't completely left him – perhaps it never would. But now it was balanced with light, like the play of shadows and sunshine through cherry blossoms. His jokes about death became less frequent, replaced by observations about the small joys in life: the perfect cup of coffee, the way seagulls danced above the harbor, the satisfaction of solving a particularly challenging case.

"You know," he said thoughtfully, pausing at the waterfront, "I used to think the world was painted only in shades of gray. But it's actually quite colorful, isn't it?"

You nodded, understanding the weight behind those simple words. The transformation hadn't erased who he was – the brilliant strategist, the perceptive observer of human nature. Instead, it had added new layers, like watercolors bleeding into each other to create something unexpected and beautiful.

"Though I still think Kunikida-kun's obsession with schedules is a bit much," he added with a wink, breaking the moment of seriousness in typical Dazai fashion.

And as you laughed together, the setting sun painting the sky in brilliant oranges and pinks, you realized that sometimes the most meaningful changes weren't about becoming a different person, but about finding new ways to be yourself.

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I'm so sorry for a long summary and I hope you love it

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Command Me

Feyd Rautha X Plus Size! Y/N - drabble/series - Part 4 - 2.3K WC NSFW 18+

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4 (you are here)

Masterlist

Warnings: SMUT, arguing, shoving, Irulan being a G, confessions, Reverend Mother being a dick, idk not much very sweet and sexy

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Feyd stood with his hands on the countertop, trying to regain his composure. He had never been so pliable, so bendable to somebody's will as he was to yours. You had him completely and he knew it. He’d known since he was 15. All these years trying to push it down, erase it. It bubbled up inside him whenever he saw you and threatened to spew out of him. And there you were, willingly kissing him. He had to walk away before he lost control. He had to have you but he wanted you to want him for him. Not out of some sort of obligation or repayment for his quick idea. You consumed his mind. Feyd couldn’t help himself as he leaned back on the counter, feeling his cock twitch and ache for touch. Your touch. He smoothed his hand over the bulge in his pants a few times before giving in and slipping his hand into his pants. As his hand wrapped around his length, with every pump he thought of you, and only you.

—————————————-

You sat in bed, stunned as Feyd disappeared into the bathroom. The heat that cascaded over your body from the kiss had you craving more. You wanted to move, to go to him to see if he could bring the feeling back, but he left. Obviously he wants to be alone. Did he not like your touch? Perhaps he was right, destiny didn’t mean you weren’t still just an obligation. You sunk down into the silky sheets of the levitating bed. Quickly sniffling to keep the water from your eyes as you close them to sleep. 

You woke with a jolt, feeling the bed dip slightly on the other side of you. You turned quickly to see Feyd. 

“Did you sleep well?” He asked.

You looked at him blankly, recalling yesterday's events. Obligation, he is an obligation. “Quite.” You said monotonously. 

He nodded, his eyes running over your body as it was still only clad in a simple shift. “I must attend to matters concerning the control of Arrakis, I will see you tonight.” He said, walking to your side of the bed slowly. 

His gravelly voice made your spine shiver and nipples perk. Yet your face remained stoic. You gave him a small nod. He leaned forward, trying to kiss you. You backed up, dodging him. 

“You have much to attend to.” You said, there was more venom in your tone now. 

Feyd backed up, nodding curtly before leaving. You noticed the small semblance of hurt on his face as he went. Your maids arrived shortly after to get you up and dress you properly. You didn’t mind the Harkonnen clothing options, honestly you found them chic. 

“What is my agenda for the day?” You asked one of the maids.

“Princess Irulan has requested your presence before she departs and the Reverend Mother expects you for afternoon tea Na-Baroness.” She answered meekly. 

You nodded, lifting your skirts as you quickly made your way to the launch pad, seeing Irulan waiting for you. 

“The Harkonnen ladies wardrobe suits you.” She said but her face held concern, “I heard he was brutal, are you in much pain?” She said as her eyes scanned over any and all scarcely exposed skin.

You gave her a small smile, “He did not touch me, it was an illusion. He was rather… understanding to my hesitation of their strange consummation custom.” 

Irulan looked surprised then delighted, “Feyd Rautha there is hope for you yet.” She smiled.

You rolled your eyes, “He is still Feyd Rautha. Still a Harkonnen.” You said.

“A Harkonnen who listened to you and showed compassion.” She countered.

You hated how right she was.

“I must go.” She said, holding your shoulders comfortingly before pulling you into a hug that you gladly reciprocated. 

“Travel safely, sister. I promise to write as soon as I can.” You said, breathing her in one last time.

“I await it’s arrival.” She said before leaning back in to whisper in your ear, “Give him a chance, he may not be what you think.” She said before walking towards the spacecraft. She looked back at you, her eyes pleading with you to consider what she said. 

You watched her leave. Your only companion on Giedi Prime now gone amongst the stars. You made your way back inside, the black sun beating down on you had you wanting to get inside quickly. You made your way to the Great Hall, the Reverend Mother beckoning you telepathically. 

“Reverend Mother.” You said as you bowed your head.

“Is he like they said?” She asked, ignoring your greeting.

You sat brown across from her. You let out a sigh, “He is.” You said shortly.

“Perhaps that is good. You always were too hopeful. Idealistic like your father.” She said.

Your grip on the chair tightened, turning your knuckles white. You remained silent.

“I called upon you here to ensure you will carry out your purpose.” She said.

“I have known my purpose my whole life. I am to create a challenger for Paul Atreides with the Na-Baron.” You said plainly repeating the line you had been told since you were small.

“Bare only daughters.” She added.

“Forgive me Reverend Mother, but how is one to create a challenge to the Kwisatz Haderach? The Voice from the Outer World is a power unlike any other.” You asked.

The Reverend Mother reached across the table, grabbing your face harshly “You will fulfill your purpose. That is what you were made for. Everything else is plans within plans.” She said before tossing your head to the side roughly. 

Your face was cold and devoid of emotion, “Yes, Reverend Mother.” You bowed before taking your leave back to your chambers as the black sun eclipsed the planet in total darkness. 

When you entered you saw Feyd who had likely just taken his armor off as he adjusted his leisure clothing. You scowled at him. Your whole purpose for existence focused around him and you hated it. 

“Hello,” he said, his eyes searching you as he noticed the tension in your body. “Is something wrong?”

“Everything is wrong.” You scoffed. Feyd quirked his head to the side slightly, as if he was waiting for you to continue. You narrowed your eyes at him as you moved closer. “My whole life revolves around you and creating some stupid heir. I am free in no way and that is because of you!” You pointed your finger and shouted at him.

Feyd was surprised to hear you yell, you really were nothing like the frightened girl he met years prior. You were fierce in every sense of the word. “Do you think I hold no responsibility in this predicament either?” He asked, countering your jab.

“Oh yes please tell me how difficult it must be for you.” You rolled your eyes. “I exist to serve. To be used and abused by you. Your only responsibility is to impregnate me - that is all you must worry about my Lord Na-Baron.” 

“And the agony I live in? Is that of no consequence to you?” He said with a voice that almost sounded weak and pining. 

“What agony? You have all the power you could want,” you yelled, shoving him back. “You get to play God here and on Arrakis,” you shoved him again. “You have condemned me! Is that of no consequence to you!?” You shouted, shoving him once more. Feyd caught your wrist as you shoved him one final time. You strained against him but he held firm. “I hate you!” You screamed, thrashing about trying to pull yourself from his grasp. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” You screamed repeatedly.

Feyd felt your strength waining, he heard the waiver in your voice. Your shoulders wracked with sobs as you fell to the floor, Feyd dropping with you. You clung to him as you cried, your hands fisting his black shirt. 

Feyd tried to soothe you, rubbing his hands up and down your back. “I am in agony for I feel things for you I thought I had long forgotten.” He mumbled, tentatively kissing the top of your head. 

You pulled back slightly, your eyes puffy and red from the many tears you had shed. You looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

“Do you know why I gave you that heart when we were young?” He asked.

You shook your head ‘no’ as a reply. 

“Because for as long as I can remember I knew I was fated to Lady Y/N of Tleilax. I knew our purpose was to bring about an heir. Yet before I was taken to live with the Baron I recall wanting more. Wanting to… fall in love with you. To have our union be more than just an obligation to the Bene Gesserit.” He said, his eyes flitting between yours. His hand came to cradle your face, “I want you because I have loved you since I was 15. Prophecy or not.” He said. 

You sniffled as you looked at him, his confession had you completely stunned. This is not how you expected this conversation to go and there was only one way your body felt like reacting. You grabbed his face and pulled him into a harsh kiss. One that was all teeth and tongue, expressing everything words couldn’t. 

Feyd responded immediately, holding your body against him tightly. He had never tasted something so sweet, like honeysuckle. Then you said something that absolutely set him alight.

“Take me.”

He wasted no time lifting you both off the floor. His hands ripped your dress from you as he laid you on the bed, removing his own shirt. Your skin was gorgeous, every mark a sacrament only he got to receive. Your plush tummy felt like heaven under his lips and hands as he caressed it. You whined at the contact, you really hadn’t been touched before. 

You shimmied out of your shift and panties, laying yourself naked before him. “Tell me what to do.” You said as you kissed along his jaw.

Feyd threw his head back, you were driving him wild. He could hardly think straight but he knew he needed to be careful with you. Feyd shifted you both so that you were straddling him as he leaned against the headboard. His hand slipping between your legs and gracing your folds with a feather light touch. You gasped, having only ever felt this sensation deep into the night when you indulge yourself. He worked you over with his fingers until you began to absentmindedly ride his hand. You were more than wet enough for him to slip a finger inside. You groaned at the sensation, grinding against him harder. He slipped in another finger, watching you bite your lip as your face contorted in pleasure. He could feel your legs start to quiver, your walls clenching down on his digits. Yet you stopped, your breathing heavy as you looked at him through hazy, half lidded eyes. You didn’t speak as you pulled his hand away from you. He watched as you pulled his cock from his pants, the silky feel of your fingers had him ready to beg you for more. You slid the head through your wet folds, causing him to moan and throw his head back as his mouth fell open. 

His hands grasped your hips, “Wait,” he breathed out.

You stopped immediately, looking at him.

He moved his cock to your enterance, “Tell me if you want to stop.” He said, kissing over your chest as he looked up at you. 

You nodded, lost in the moment. He pushed into you slowly, you silently gasped at the foreign feeling. Feyd slowly guided you down until he bottomed out, stilling as he looked up at you. He burned the way you looked right now into his memory, so incredibly beautiful. And so incredibly his. 

“Move with me.” He said as he took one of your tits into his mouth. He started rocking you, showing you how to move as he moved his hips to meet yours. 

“Feyd…” you moaned as your hand came up to his neck, holding him to you. You picked up your pace, the sharp ache you initially felt being replaced with mind altering pleasure. It felt so good, so entrancing you’d do anything to chase that feeling as it only intensified the more you kept going.

Feyd nipped small marks across your neck and chest as one hand guided your hips to meet his rhythm while the other kneaded your breast. His rigid cock pulsed inside you and he knew he was close, he couldn’t help it, you just felt so good.

Your hands grasped his shoulders as you felt his finger rub tight circles over your clit, causing you to hit your high, squealing as he fucked up into you to make your orgasm last as long as possible. Your nails clawed his pale shoulders and you could have sworn you drew blood. You felt him cum inside you as he groaned, biting down on your shoulder as he slowed his movements to a stop. 

Your heavy breaths mingled for a moment before either one of you spoke. Feyd’s hand came to cradle your face, his pale blue eyes looking into yours. You could see each other despite the darkness of the room. You moved your hand to cover his, turning your head to kiss his palm. Feyd brought your face to his, kissing you softly as he gently lifted you off of him. You whined as you felt exhaustion settle in your bones, laying down against the soft bed and cool sheets.

“How do you feel?” Feyd asked, concerned about it being your first time.

“Tired,” you whispered, your eyes closed and your body unmoving. “But good.” You smiled to yourself. 

Feyd brushed a few stray hairs out of your face, watching you like you were the moon, sun, and stars all wrapped up in one. He ensured the soft black blanket wrapped around you comfortably. He could hear your breathing mellow out, becoming soft and even. 

“Goodnight, little love.” 

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Naboo's Note:

Couldn't help myself and had to write the next part ASAP, hope y'all like! XOXOXOX

Taglist:

@sw33tsnow

@isansstuff