#the wing that wants to be free and take off

[kawoala]

DRIVEN BY ADRENALINE suna rintarou. chapter 009 ; that’s how it is.

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২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 (1,681)

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 (profanity, MORE RUNA X TERUSHIMA IM SORRY I CANT STOP, arguing, fist fighting 😬, more angst, oikawa appearance [sorry oikawa fans], reckless driving)

You must have hit your head. You hit your head and you don’t remember it because why else would you show up to yet another race, all by yourself?

It’s colder tonight, making you regret your choice of clothes; shorts you borrowed from Runa, and a band t-shirt you’ve had since high school. Once again, your arms are wrapped around yourself. To warm yourself up, but also because you know people are staring at you. They never seem to stop, the eyes never seem to stray from you.

There’s a lot more people here tonight and you’re not sure why. There were people talking about something called Race Wars, but upon hearing that, you’d scrunched your face up in confusion and shook your head. Race Wars? You thought that was an abandoned concept— an odd thing to hear in this day and age. 

You're just walking at this point, staring at the brightly colored cars, wrapped in anime girls and mushrooms that have red eyes and smoke surrounding them.

A car revs its engine somewhere off to your left, and you flinch, head whipping over to look at it. It’s neon blue, has racing stripes, and wings on the back of it. Again, the word tacky flashes in your mind. You observe the car, the people around it, then lock eyes with a brunette leaning against the side of it. He smirks, then glances at his car, and pushes himself off of it, making his way over to you.

Your heart rate spikes. You want to move, want to run away and go back to your dorm, but something stops you. The memory of the high you felt in Rin’s car. If you stay in your spot and allow this man to approach you, there’s a chance you can feel that again. There’s a chance you can feel that free again.

You unwrap your arms from yourself, allowing them to hang awkwardly at your side. You put a small smile on your face and bat your eyelashes at the man.

“You’re lost.” A statement, not a question. He looks you up and down, taking in your form, then meets your eyes again. Brown, dangerous, and, dare you say, hot. “Where’s your boyfriend, hm? Stupid of Rin to let you just… walk around, right?”

Just the mere mention of his name makes your stomach turn. You clear your throat and lick your lips, letting your eyes travel down to his lips. You haven't had to flirt this hard since your first year of high school, when you needed the answers for homework. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” you say calmly. He raises his eyebrows and you giggle. God, this is pathetic. “I like your car. It’s pretty. Is it fast?”

“Is it fast?” He repeats in an incredulous laugh. You watch him take note of your face, the sultry smile, the way your eyes are full of challenge. “It’s fast,” he says, narrowing his eyes just a smidge. “Wanna find out just how fast?”

You bite your lip. The excitement that spreads throughout your veins makes you shiver. You don’t want to get ahead of yourself, though, so you tilt your head dumbly and furrow your brows. “And how do you propose that?”

He hums, an intrigued smile etching its way onto his face. He takes a step forward, now a paltry two inches away from you. He leans into your space, warm breath fanning your ear. “Why don’t you sit your pretty self in my passenger seat and we can find out from there, hm?”

Again, a shiver racks through you. He pulls away, licking his lips, and you nod, vision going a little blurry. “Okay,” you whisper, smiling softly. He jerks his head towards his car, and you follow as he walks back to his car. He opens the passenger door for you and, this time, you give him a genuine smile. He may seem a little douchebag-y, but that was a kind gesture.

You watch him jog around the front of the car, then get in. He glances over at you, a cocky smile on his face. You almost roll your eyes, but save yourself with another giggle. He shifts his car into drive and you take a quiet deep breath, silently preparing yourself for the high that you’re about to experience.

As he slowly pulls up to the starting line and, as he does so, you stare out the window, taking in all the people staring at you. You wonder how many times this guy has brought a girl along with him.

And then you remember that you don’t even know ‘this guys’ name. You blink a couple times, but the car jolting to a stop pulls you from your haze. You look over to the brunette man, but he’s staring out his now open window.

Rin’s car is sitting beside him. Rin is staring at you. There’s a look on his face that you can’t quite place. Just a slight furrow of his brows, a look in his eyes that makes your chest hurt. You suddenly feel the urge to throw up.

“Looks like your girl wanted to race with a real man, Rinnie-boy,” the man calls out, leaning out of the window. Rin doesn’t respond, but hesitates before rolling up his window.

Your eyes drift to your hands sitting in your lap. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe ignoring Rin was a mistake. Your mind is full of regrets and Rin. You look up to the driver's seat, mouth open, ready to tell him that you want to get out, but his gaze is dead set on the woman in front of the cars. Your breathing gets a little heavier. You can’t get out of this now. The world seems to move in slow motion as the woman brings her hand down and both of the cars take off.

Your head jerks back, hitting the headrest hard. Instantly, your head hurts. The man doesn’t seem to care; his foot presses the gas pedal harder. It’s fine, at first. Just a straight road. But then the first turn comes into view. The turn where Rin had crashed his car not even a week ago.

Your eyes dart over to the man, who now has a worried look on his face. It’s not a good expression to see when you’re just as, if not more, terrified than he is. His grip on the gear shift tightens and he jerks it into a different gear, just barely avoiding crashing straight into the wall.

The adrenaline you feel now is different from before. In Rin’s car, you felt free. You felt like you were flying. You felt like your boring life from before was being left behind. But this is terrifying. You feel like you’re seconds away from death at every waking moment. Every shift of a gear, every turn, every grunt from the man— you gradually get closer and closer to tears.

Rin’s car is in front of you, of course. He once said something about never having seen a pair of tail lights and, right now, you’re sure he was telling the truth. Rin’s car passes the finish line, and the car you’re in follows close behind, but not close enough. Both of the cars are surrounded by people. The man you rode with is hitting his steering wheel in frustration. You don’t look at him as you open the door and stumble out.

It’s almost like there’s a fishbowl over your head right now. There are people cheering around you, but they’re all muffled. You think Runa comes up to you, but your vision is so blurred, you can’t tell.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Oikawa?” There’s a shout. It’s not at you, you don’t think. Looking over at the bright blue car only confirms that. Rin is standing in front of the other brunette— Oikawa— inches away from his face, screaming. “That was the stupidest shit I’ve ever seen in my life. You took that corner way too fucking fast. And with someone in the car with you? Have you ever driven a car in your entire life?”

“I took that corner way too fast?” Oikawa yells back, voice incredulous once again. “Let me remind you that you totaled your car two weeks ago because you took that corner too fast. Don’t get pissed off just because I did it better, asshole.”

The crowd starts to whisper, many of them donning wide eyes and surprised expressions. The whispers get worse when Rin rears his arm back and clocks Oikawa in the jaw.

Runa gasps loudly, loud enough to break the bubble that was floating around your head. Suddenly, everything is too loud, too much. She looks at you, a torn expression on her face. She doesn’t know whether to break up the fight, or stay with you.

“Go,” you say hoarsely, nodding towards the men. 

Oikawa is on the ground, Rin on top of him, throwing punch after punch. Oikawa flips them over, landing a few blows to Rin, and then a flash of blonde goes by and Oikawa is on the ground. Terushima has tackled Oikawa. Runa abandons you and quickly runs over to them, pulling Terushima off of Oikawa.

Everyone is looking at the three of them. Rin is on the ground, holding the bridge of his nose, mouth covered in blonde. Oikawa is sitting up, knees bent, arms resting around them, head hanging. Runa is lecturing Terushima, he’s looking at the ground like a child.

You knew it was a mistake. You knew coming back to another race was a bad idea, yet you did it anyway. And this is what happens? You’re a bad luck charm. You don’t belong here. It’s obvious. Your presence has seemingly caused a car crash and now a fist fight? You need to go, you need to leave.

You turn on your heel and start walking away. Everyone around you is too busy to even notice your departure. That’s how it is though, right?

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

@sahrii , @cherrysurf , @heartmaddie , @jpegarchives , @vertejay

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[redisthenewblue]

TINKER-Twisted Wonderland x Tinkerbell!Yuu/Fem!Reader Part 2

Part 1

[Name] was jolted awake by a gentle poke to her side.

“Mrggg…” The girl mumbled, rolling over.

“[Name], you need to talk to Headmage Crowley,” Lilia said, and at those words, the girl shot up, her head darting from side to side.

“Headmage Crowley?! Where is he?!” she exclaimed, confusion written all over her face.

“In his office. You need to see him right now while he’s not busy,” Lilia replied.

With that, [Name] rolled out of her makeshift bed and landed on the dresser. She stretched her wings out, feeling the need to wake up a bit more, and ran her fingers through her hair. To avoid drawing too much attention, she decided to stay in her smaller form. She turned to Lilia, who was busy gathering his supplies in his bag.

“Thanks again, Lilia.”

“Not a problem at all… Good luck!” he said.

With a quick nod, [Name] set off to find Crowley. She zipped through the halls, feeling like the school was a giant maze. Finally, she stopped in front of a door that looked significant enough. Peeking at the gap under the door, a grin spread across her face. She took a few steps back to gain momentum and—oh, she got stuck. Maybe she had overestimated the size of the gap. She could see Crowley right there too! Pushing against the door, she tried to wiggle free. With one last strong shove, she tumbled across the floor, fairy dust sparkling around her with every movement. Comically, birds circled her head as she transformed back to her normal size.

“Mr. Crowley, sir,” she paused to catch her breath, “I wanted to talk to you about staying at this school. Before you say anything, just hear me out. I can’t go back home right now. If I do, I’ll be stuck in a horrible house with older siblings who absolutely despise me in Fairy Hollow, a town that feels completely unfamiliar with a future that seems just as uncertain. Please, please, please let me stay!”

Crowley’s eyes widened at her outburst, and he let out an exhausted sigh. “You can stay under certain conditions. You’ll have an earlier curfew, must keep your grades above a B-, no tardies, and if you ever feel threatened, you’re allowed to use your magic.” [Name] lit up, her glow brighter than ever. “Got it! But what about my dorm and uniform situation?” she asked eagerly.

“That will be sorted out later. For now, get to know the school and your classmates,” Crowley said, pushing a magic pen towards her. With a smile,[Name] enthusiastically took the pen and bolted out the door.

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“Pfft. All it takes is a little gust to—Hah! Oh no! The Queen of Hearts's statue looks like it’s been flame-broiled!” Ace exclaimed, his cool demeanor crumbling as he took in the damage from the fight.

“Flame-broiled indeed,” [Name] replied with a mischievous grin, enjoying Ace’s misfortune.

“Where did you come from?! Why is there a girl on campus?!” Ace shouted.

“[Name]?” Grim and Yuuken chimed in unison.

“I go to school here, duh,” she said, sticking her tongue out playfully. “So, what’s going on?”

“It’s Ace’s fault for trying to divert my fire! He should’ve just let it burn you to a crisp!” Grim shot back.

“Who in their right mind would ever do that?!” Ace retorted.

“What’s happening here? Cease this at once!” Crowley called out, making his way over.

At the sound of Crowley’s voice, [Name] froze. She really didn’t want to get blamed for anything, so she did what she does best—she shrunk down. But of course, she wasn’t going anywhere; she wanted to see how this played out. It felt like one of those cheesy Tubi movies she used to watch for inspiration on her inventions.

“Oh no! The headmage!” Ace cried, panic creeping into his voice. It was only the first day, and he was already in deep trouble.

“Not more lashings of love! We gotta get outta here!” Grim, Yuuken, and Ace tried to make a run for it, but [Name] had other plans. Whipping out her magic pen, she tripped the boys with a vine, falling over in silent laughter. This school was going to be full of opportunities for mischief! As they stumbled, Crowley approached with a fierce expression.

“OW!” Ace yelped, clutching a bruised spot on his side.

“Myaaaaah! I’m still sore from yesterday too!” Grim complained.

“As if the likes of you could ever escape my wrath! Did I not just warn you about ‘no more incidents’? And now you’ve charred one of my statues?! It’s almost like you WANT to be expelled!” Crowley threatened.

Yikes… So glad I managed to dodge that bullet!

“No! Please forgive me!” Ace pleaded.

“Hahhh… I wish I had my phone on me. This would totally blow up on magicam,” [Name] said, rolling over onto her side and getting comfortable as she watched the chaos unfold.

Crowley shifted his glare to Yuuken. “And you! You were specifically told to keep Grim under control!”

“I tried to stop him, but…” Yuuken began, only to be interrupted by the furious headmaster.

“This is unacceptable. And you! State your name and grade.”

“Ace Trappola… Freshman,” Ace said solemnly, sulking so much that [Name] thought he might just sink into the floor.

“Then listen carefully, Trappola. You, Grim, and Yuuken will be punished for today’s antics. You’re all assigned to wash a hundred windows!”

“Myah?! This is what you get for making fun of me! It’s all your fault! And where’s [Name]?!”

[Name] felt the urge to storm over and help Grim clean those dirty windows, but she had to keep her wings down and play it cool. 

“What? I have to do it too?!” Ace whined.

“Of course you do,” Crowley scoffed. “You’ll meet in the cafeteria after class. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Ace finally relented.

“Ugh, I can’t catch a break!” Grim groaned. “I’m already worn out from a full day of cleaning. I can’t believe we still have to wash a hundred windows.”

Yuuken, clearly annoyed, cut in to silence Grim’s complaints. “We just have to suck it up and do it. You didn’t help at all earlier anyway…”

That’s when it hit [Name]. Yuuken didn’t snitch on her when Crowley asked where she was. In a way, she owed him something, but she just didn’t know what. Then it clicked, and she snapped her fingers.

“I know!”

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With a sense of urgency, [Namel hurried toward the ramshackle dorm, logs of wood trailing behind her. All she needed now were some metal scraps, screws, and a bit of wood polish to get things rolling. As she turned the corner, her wings twitched—a telltale sign that something was about to happen. Maybe it would be wise to take a different route to the ramshackle. "Hey, hold up there! No fair getting a head start! Wait!" The unmistakable voice made [Name] shake her head in frustration. Of course, it had to be them. 

Just as she was about to turn around, something knocked her to the ground along with the logs. "Outta my way!" a boyish voice shouted, fading into the distance. As she tried to get back on her feet, Namel stumbled over the logs in a rather embarrassing fashion. Her previously calm expression morphed into one of pure fury. She whipped around to see who was responsible for this mess—it was none other than Ace Trappola. Taking a moment to gather herself, she stood up, piled the logs together, and tied them securely. With a sprinkle of fairy dust, she made them float again. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that she couldn't deal with this chaos right now; she had to get to the mirror hall.

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"This is not good..." Ace winced, clearly feeling the weight of the situation.

"What am I going to do?! How am I supposed to break this news to my mom...?" One boy was in full panic mode, realizing he couldn't afford to lose his place at NRC.

"Well... there might just be a glimmer of hope," the headmaster chimed in, offering the students a ray of optimism. "There’s a slim chance we can fix this chandelier."

"Wait, really?!" The boys shouted in unison, their hopes lifted.

"The magestone that powered this chandelier was sourced from the Dwarfs' Mine. If you can find a magestone with the same properties, we might be able to make the repairs."

"Then I’ll go look for a magestone! With your permission, sir!" one of them declared, determination shining in his eyes.

"Just a heads up—I can’t guarantee that any magestones are still out there. The mines have been closed for quite a while now, so it’s possible that all the magestones have been mined already."

"I'll do whatever it takes to avoid getting expelled, sir!" the boy insisted, desperation in his voice.

"Hmmm... Alright then. I’ll postpone your expulsion for just one night. But if you don’t bring back a magestone by morning, then all of you are out." Crowley negotiated, setting the stakes high.

"I understand, sir! Thank you so much for this chance!"

 "Okay, let’s get moving. We need to find a magestone and wrap this up," Ace said, his shoulders drooping as he let out a heavy breath.

"You can reach the Dwarfs' Mine instantly by using one of the gates in the Mirror Chamber," Crowley informed them.

"Yes, sir!"

"Why do I keep running into you guys...?" [Name] grumbled as she stood at the entrance of the mirror hall, eyeing the chandelier on the floor with a frown. "How do you always manage to get into trouble?!"

Yuuken simply shook his head, muttering, "Grim and Ace..."

"Hmph." [Name] replied, "Who's that, and why is he staring at me like I’m the elephant in the room?" She pointed at the boy who was looking at her with wide eyes.

"Maybe it’s because you’re the only girl in an all-boys school?!" Ace shot back, much to [Name]'s irritation.

"Shut it," she hissed, switching her focus back to the boy who looked completely taken aback. "What’s your name?"

"Deuce... Spade…" he managed to say, still looking a bit overwhelmed.

"Deuce?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Please stop looking at me like that."

"Sorry!" he said quickly, before turning back to the boys.

"We can’t waste any more time. Let’s go! Dark Mirror! Take us to the Dwarfs' Mine!" Deuce urged enthusiastically.

"Huh?! Wait!" [Name] exclaimed, feeling herself being pulled into the portal. She desperately tried to grab onto the smooth floor, but her efforts were in vain.

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"So, this is the Dwarfs' Mine... A long time ago, it was overflowing with magestones," Deuce remarked, taking in the surroundings. 

The girl rubbed the spot on her head where she had landed. "Are you serious right now?!" She quickly dusted off her pants, her wings twitching as they prepared her to take off back to campus. 

"Where do you think you're going, insect?!" the cat called out, a hint of annoyance in its voice.

"Back to NRC," she replied flatly, not bothering to look back.

Just as she was about to launch herself into the air, she was suddenly tackled by a ball of fur. 

"Get off me! How are you so heavy?!" [Name] struggled to push the cat off her.

"Nyah! You left us behind near those statues!" the cat exclaimed, indignation in its tone.

"That wasn't my fault, was it?!" [Name] crossed her arms defiantly. "But... I guess I can help you find the magestone. I could use a little adventure anyway."

"Look, everyone! I see a house over there. Let's check it out and see what the folks there have to say," Ace suggested, his shoulders slumping in a casual manner.

"Hello? Is anyone home...? It must be empty. This place looks like it’s been abandoned," Deuce said, glancing around.

"Bwah! I just got a spider web on my face! Ptchoo! Ptchoo!" 

"Wow, these desks and chairs are tiny! Did kids live here? One, two... seven! It’s like a clown car in here," Ace joked, managing to elicit a giggle from [Name].

"When the mine was thriving, this house must have been a really lively spot," Deuce mused.

"Well, standing around here isn’t going to get us anywhere. If we want to find a magestone, we've got to go inside the mine. Let's head in," Ace declared, stepping out of the house.

"You want to go in THERE? It’s pitch black! Insect! You go first! You’ve got that weird glowing thing around you," the cat retorted, a hint of fear in its voice.

An irked expression crossed her face. "Wuss," she muttered as she stepped into the cave, her glow lighting the way.

"What, scared of the dark? Pathetic," Ace teased Grim.

"Myah?! I’m not scared of anything! I’ll take the lead! You all follow me!" Grim puffed out his chest and moved in front of [Name].

"Whoa, hold on!" Deuce warned the others.

"What now?" Ace asked, clearly annoyed.

"There's something up ahead!"

At that moment, [Name] felt a bone-chilling sensation crawl up her spine. Turning around, she gasped at the sight of a ghost, her wings instinctively spreading out as a defensive measure.

"Do make yourselves at home... You can stay forever!" the ghost rasped, a cold aura enveloping the cave as it spoke. More ghosts emerged from behind the first one.

"More ghosts?! They're floating around here too!" Ace stepped back, ready to defend himself with his magic pen.

"If we stop to fight, we’re never going to get anywhere. Let’s just keep moving," Deuce reasoned, trying to keep the group focused.

"Sure, but don’t act like we voted you as team leader. We’re here because of that ridiculous stunt you pulled," Ace shot back.

"Oh? I’m pretty sure this all started because you tried to dodge your window-cleaning punishment!"

[Name] listened to the boys argue, feeling her blood pressure rise. She just wanted to rip her hair out in frustration.

Yuuken watched [Name]’s face twist in exasperation. From what he had seen during orientation, he didn’t even want to imagine how she would react now. He cautiously covered his ears, bracing for her outburst.

"So, we’re digging up ancient history now? If we're getting into it, this all started when furball here torched that statue!" Ace pointed an accusing finger at Grim.

"Myah?! Maybe you shouldn’t have made fun of me, then!" Grim defended himself.

"SHUT UP!" [Name] snapped, startling the boys into silence. The cave echoed with her voice, and they could have sworn they heard birds fleeing from the nearby trees.

"Everyone, just calm down," Yuuken attempted to diffuse the tension.

[Name] scratched her neck sheepishly. "Sorry..."

"...iiivvv... ...oooouuu..."

"Huh?!" the group gasped in unison, fear creeping into their voices.

"Wh-where's that coming from? [Name], was that you?" Ace asked, his eyes wide.

"No! Why would that be me?” [Name] whispered, hugging herself tightly.

"...neeevvvaaa... ...iiivvv... ...ooouuu..."

Why did [Name] let herself get tangled up in this mess? Would she even make it out alive in time for her first day tomorrow?!

"Sounds like... it's getting closer..."

"Stooonesss... Stooonesss aaare miiiiine!"

"There it is!" Yuuken pointed out the looming monster.

"What is that?!" Deuce’s eyes widened in horror.

"Myaaah! No one said there'd be monsters! Let’s get outta here!" Grim tugged on Yuuken’s pants, panic in his voice.

"That thing is super creepy! But didn’t it just mention something about 'stones'?!" Ace exclaimed.

"Stooonesss... ...nevvva give stooonesss...!" The monster swung at the group, its movements threatening.

"So there ARE still magestones here!" Deuce concluded, his eyes gleaming with determination.

"Myaaah... Even as a master sorcerer, I... I don't think I can take that thing down!" Grim admitted, his bravado fading.

"Are you really a master then?" [Name] couldn’t help but tease the cat, even in such dire circumstances.

"But we need a magestone or we’ll get expelled! I’m going in!" Deuce charged toward the monster, ignoring the warnings.

"Are you out of your mind?!"

"You can't do this alone!"

But Deuce brushed aside their concerns. "I won't be expelled! No matter what!" 

"Get lost! Get lost! Get loooost!"

Deuce cried out as the creature lunged at him.

"Oh no! Loosey-Deucey is in trouble! Not on my watch! Heeyah!"

"Oof!" Ace hit the ground hard, wincing in pain as his muscles tensed.

From the sidelines, [Name] struggled to contain a laugh, watching the boys get tossed around like rag dolls.

"Myaaah! Keep away from me!" Grim raised his paws in sheer panic.

"GRRRAAAWWRR!" The monster let out a fearsome roar.

"It's like nothing even phases it!" Grim shouted in disbelief.

"Did you just see that sparkle?!" Yuuken exclaimed, staring past the monster at a glimmering rock.

"Look behind the monster! There's something shining in the mineshaft!" Ace said, pushing himself up from the floor.

"Could that be a magestone?!"

"GWAAAAAAAH! Nooo, I won't let you take the stooooone!" The monster attempted another strike. [Name] flinched, that attack almost hit her.

"Yuuken, we need to get out of here, and fast! That thing's going to turn us into tuna paste!" Grim pulled Yuuken by the sleeve.

"Retreat!Retreat! Retreat" Yuuken called out to the others.

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"This should be far enough, right?" Grim panted as he rolled onto his back.

"Owww... What was that thing? No one warned us about something like that!"

"That was definitely not your average ghost."

"Let’s just give up and go home. I'd gladly take the expulsion if it means I never have to face that thing again." Ace sighed, resigning himself to the idea of leaving NRC.

"What?! No way, that's not happening! I'd rather face death than get kicked out of Night Raven! How can you give up when the stone is right there?" Deuce shook his head vigorously, refusing to back down.

"Pfft. Easy for you to say, considering you’re not even half the mage I am. If you want that stone so badly, go get it yourself. I'm out." Ace turned to walk away, but Deuce shouted after him.

"Oh YEAH?! Fine, just run back to your little coop, you big chicken!" Deuce taunted, momentarily breaking character.

"Whaaaaat?! Who are you calling a chicken, huh?!" Ace shot back, crossing his arms and stepping closer to Deuce.

"Whoa, Deuce... Did you just, like, totally change personality there for a second?"

"Huh?! Sorry... I lost my temper for a moment." He cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed.

"So, what do we do now?" Yuuken squatted down, looking to the others for guidance.

"Can't you guys just blow that thing up with magic?" Grim directed his question at Ace and Deuce.

"Can't you do something magical yourself?" Yuuken asked Grim, raising an eyebrow.

"The headmage said it himself... magic has its limits. If you can't visualize your magic clearly, it's not going to work." Deuce explained to Yuuken and Grim. "Using magic on a larger scale or trying different kinds of magic requires training."

"Exactly, that's why magic academies exist. It takes a ton of practice before you can just snap your fingers and make your thoughts manifest as magic. And the more flustered you are, the more likely you are to mess things up." Ace added in.

"So that's why Grim can only summon fire," Yuuken said, taking a jab at Grim's ego.

"Hey! Just you wait! I'm gonna learn to use way cooler magic than that! I'm just getting started!" Grim shot back at Yuuken.

"Anyway, we need to come up with a plan to defeat that creature and grab the magestone," Deuce reminded everyone.

"Yeah, just like last time with the chandelier, right? You 'found a way,' and now look where we are. We just fought that thing and it wiped the floor with us. So what's your grand plan, genius? Because I definitely don't trust you to wing it!" 

"What?! You're the one who—"

"And here we go again," Grim sighed, realizing this was going nowhere.

"So, I guess we should all just get expelled then," Yuuken shrugged, sounding indifferent.

"What?" Ace and Deuce exchanged bewildered glances, taken aback by Yuuken's sudden defeatist attitude.

"Whoa, that was a bit harsh. Where did that come from?" Grim's eyes widened at Yuuken's unexpected demeanor.

"Why not try working together for a change?" Yuuken suggested earnestly.

"With Loosey-Deucey? No way! He'd get me killed!" Ace shot back at Deuce, dismissing the idea.

"Like I'd enjoy teaming up with you?!" Deuce retorted.

"What if we actually came up with a solid plan first?" Yuuken proposed.

Ace clicked his tongue in annoyance. "A solid plan? Like some buddy system? Are you kidding? You always say the most ridiculous things with a straight face, [MC]."

"Agreed. There's no way I can work with him." The blue-haired boy shook his head defiantly.

"Yeah, but... getting expelled on the first day? That's pretty lame too. Maybe even lamer." Grim pointed out.

Ace stuttered, caught off guard by Grim's comment, "W-well..."

"Yeah, there's nothing cool about that!" the black-haired boy added.

"Ugh... Fine. Let's just get this over with. All right, Yuuken. What's the plan?" The orange-haired boy asked, sounding resigned.

"Yuuken… Is this plan of yours really going to work? I'm scared—I mean, I'm a little... uh, hungry," the cat confessed.

"Then let's brace ourselves for the worst," Yuuken said with a hint of pessimism.

"Heh heh. That's not exactly encouraging! Keep it loose and lively! Let's do this!" Ace declared, pumping his fist in determination and flashing his trademark smile.

"Wait! I feel like we’re forgetting something..." Deuce said, deep in thought.

"That monster really must have done a number on you," Ace chuckled.

"Whatever!" Deuce shot ahead of Ace, ready to take action.

What do you guys think they forgot in the mines???

[dem0batz]

The Ice Dragon and the Prince of Freaks

Eddie Munson x Reader

Author's Note: Fluffy unedited little post-season 4 one-shot I just wrote inspired by this post. I yearn for this sweet playful little freak.

Content Warnings: implied difficult home life, weed ~1200 words

The trailer park is silent, save for the soft crunch of fresh snow beneath my boots as I trudge toward the busted up playground equipment. Forrest Hills hasn’t bothered replacing any of the equipment, probably since the park was initially built. The rusty swing chains look unreliable at best so you opt for the squeaking merry-go-round, brushing off a layer of snow to clear a spot.

You hiss when the cold metal seeps right through my jeans, sending a shiver up you spine. Pulling your threadbare coat tighter, you hug your body, huddling into yourself to produce warmth. It doesn’t do much, but it’s better than being stuck alone in the trailer with your dad. It was hard enough living with him on a normal day, let alone being snowed in with him and a bottle of whiskey.

Just as your eyes find the moon, blurry from the stormy sky but still shining brightly through the haze, movement catches the corner of your eye. The figure is in black head to toe from the halo of dark wavy hair down to the dark jeans stuffed into worn leather boots. The black beanie on his head is folded over his forehead, shortening the length and revealing a small tear near the crease. His clothing was just as worn as your own, something a lot of the folks around here had in common.

“Busted,” he says an unlit joint hanging from the corner of his mouth.

“Mind if I join you?”

“I don’t know,” you frown, eying him wearily. Your finger swirls through the layer of snow to your right, finishing the design off with a curling flourish. “That sign says ‘Freaks Only’.”

“Don’t you know that I’m the King of Freaks in this town, sweetheart?”

Eddie’s lip twitches as he tries to keep a straight face before the infectious smile breaks free, dimple creasing his cheek in a way that always made your heart patter against your ribcage. He closes the distance between the two of you, careful to pick the side to your left so as not to disturb your sign. After dusting off a spot, you watch him drop to sit next to you, hissing the same way you did when his ass makes contact with the freezing cold metal. You resist the urge to laugh as he adjusts to the cold.

“What are you doing out here so late, Munson? Don’t you know there’s a snow storm tonight?”

“Do you?” he challenges with a lift of his dark eyebrow, lighting up the joint and passing it to you.

You accept, taking a long inhale. Ignoring his retort, not wanting to delve into why you’re sitting alone in a snowstorm in the middle of the night, you blow it out in his direction, creating a dramatic steaming cloud against the blistering cold that swirls around him.

“When I was a kid, I loved going out when it was cold and seeing my breath on the cold wind. It made me feel like a mighty dragon. I used to wish for it so hard that sometimes I was convinced I would sprout wings at any moment and fly away from home.”

Pinching the joint between his fingers, he takes a hit of his own.

“Understandable as that may be, I’m glad you didn’t fly off without me. This place is more bearable with you around. Plus, what’s a dragon without a prince to kidnap and whisk off to her lair?”

“Aren’t princesses the ones who usually get kidnapped in these scenarios?”

“If you’re the dragon kidnapping me, you can call me whatever you want, sweetheart. Dragons don’t discriminate. Trust me."

“You play too much D&D,” you snort at his comment, swiping out to grab the joint.

Eddie pulls it just out of reach with a pout pulling down his lips before you can snatch it. You know the frown isn’t sincere, Eddie just likes to play around.

“No such thing and you would know that if you accepted my offer to play.”

“No way. There’s way too much of a learning curve, Eddie, and it’s intimidating as fuck.”

You make another lunge for the joint but he rises it high above his head with a gleeful smile as you crash into his chest. His arm snakes around your waist, holding you close while still keeping the weed out of reach.

“I’ll give it to you if you agree to play. Just one night. I promise I can change your mind with a single one-shot adventure. What do you say, pretty girl?”

Big brown eyes sparkle down at you with mirth. Another shiver wracks down your body, but you tell yourself it’s from the cold despite the sudden heat climbing up your neck toward your cheeks. This is not the first time Eddie has crossed into flirtatious banter with you— flirting was practically a second language for him. With all of his natural charm, it baffled you that he had been labeled the freak of Hawkins, even long before the incident in the woods where he was attacked by wild animals and left scarred.

The two of you had never spoken about it, but this was a small town and word got around. From what you’ve heard, he was lucky to have survived. You would think after an incident like that, people would be more compassionate but everyone mostly still eyed him with uncertainty. The only ones who didn’t seem to be afraid of him were a few students still attending Hawkins High and a few who already graduated but moved away for college. He was just as much of an outcast as you, maybe more, though you didn’t understand it.

“I’ll think about it.”

You reach for the joint again, letting out a frustrated steaming sigh when he jerks the glowing paper away once more. He lifts an expectant eyebrow, waiting.

“Fine,” you hiss, “I’ll play some freaking D&D now will you please give it to me, Eddie?”

He hums with a triumphant grin, “Such a polite girl, too. I’ll give you anything you want if you keep asking like that, baby.”

Eddie laughs when you swat playfully at him, but he finally passes the joint back to you, though he doesn’t release you from his hold. His arm circles around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side as you take another hit to try to warm yourself up. The heat radiating from his side helps as you pass the joint back and forth a few times. By the time Eddie carefully stubs out what remains on the merry-go-round handle and tucks it away in his jacket, you feel much warmer and lighter than you did when you first came out here.

Even the moon looks brighter.

Warm lips press against your cold cheek, pulling your attention from the sky and back to the prettiest brown eyes you’ve ever seen, more glassy and shiny than they usually are due to the weed.

“What was that for?” you whisper, not wanting to break the fragile peace of the quiet snowy night.

“Just felt like it,” he whispers back, his voice low and warm. “Are you still thinking about flying away?”

You shake your head, eyes flicking down to his lips, all pink and dusty from the cold.

“Good. You’re not allowed to go without me.”

“Deal,” you agree, something cementing between the two of you like an oath.

With a soft smile, he leans forward to capture your lips, sealing it with a kiss as cold snowflakes blanket the two of you in.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Lucifer hoped that his ruse was enough to throw heaven off of his plan to free Adam, it pained him to remove his ring and give it with that letter. He'll get it back.

Him and Charlie were sneaking around heaven, he was surprised by how easy it was to get inside he figured that it would be a lot harder than just opening a portal and walking on in.

The place was crawling with angels, he managed to find an office of some kind, maybe it would tell him where Adam was.

Lucifer: This way, quietly.

Charlie nodded and they ended up in Micheals office. Looking through the drawers, Lucifer found the letter with his ring and slipped it back on, he felt naked without it.

Lucifer: Okay Addie, where are you.....

Charlie was keeping a look out so Lucifer could find a map, it took a bit but he did find one.

Lucifer: Ow! Shit .....

He sucked on his finger, fucking paper cuts. When he looked to see how deep it was he was surprised to see his blood was golden and not deep red like a sinners should be.

Odd.

Maybe being King makes him even more special? Whatever.

Lucifer: Okay I found the dungeon let's go.

Charlie: Okay. I hope Adams not too hurt.

Lucifer: He's tough, but he still feels pain.

They ran down the hall and didn't realize they passed someone. The angel grabbed Lucifer by the horn and threw him into the wall.

Evan: The FUCK are you two doing here!?! You little fucker- ACK!!

Lucifer was stunned when Charlie tackled Evan and they started fighting.

Charlie: GO!!

Lucifer nodded, he didn't want to leave Charlie but Adam needed him. He ran and ran until he found the cell that Adam was kept in. There was a pad lock on the door, Lucifer used his fire to melt it.

The lack of guards was a little alarming.....

When he opened the door the sight that greeted him did multiple things to his insides, rage, jealousy, heartbreak, and sorrow. But overall wrath entered him like never before and he felt so hot.

Michael: CLOSE THE-........ Door....

Lucifer felt like a man possessed, his insides hot like molten lava, he punched Michael so hard he knocked him into the wall denting it severely.

Lucifer: Keep your filthy hands off my fucking husband.

His voice was low and dark, he didn't recognize it.

Adams eyes went wide: L-Lu?

What was he doing here!? Did that mean..... He didn't really end them? Adam felt a small seed of hope blossom in his chest.

Lucifer might be pissed beyond belief, but damn he looked hot as fuck.

Michael: You Motherfucker!!

Lucifer was silent and it was eerie and unnerving as he went over to the corner where Micheals blade was, he noticed the ring too and picked it up to place in his pocket.

Michael: Don't touch that you filth!

Michael got to his feet, Adam closed his eyes he couldn't help and he wouldn't watch Lucifer die again. But when he heard screams he didn't expect them to be Michael's. Adam opened his eyes and his mouth went dry.

Lucifer was beating Michael with his own fucking sword, to the point cracks and loud slaps could be heard.

Michael: AHH! OW! I SHOULD HAVE DESTROYED YOUR FUCKING SOUL WHEN I HAD THE CHANCE!!!

Lucifer growled, he took the handle and bashed him in the eye with it.

Lucifer: You take MY husband, try to RAPE and KILL him, torture him to the point of missing a FUCKING ARM!!!

He turned the sword and cut off Michael's left arm, the archangel screamed in pain which made Lucifer laugh cruelly, he stabbed him through his wings so he couldn't fly away.

Lucifer: No one, and I fucking mean NO ONE fucks WITH him or FUCKS him BUT ME!!!

With one last stab, Lucifer drove it through Michael's femur the sound of the bone breaking echoed in the room. Michael passed out from the pain.

Huffing, Lucifer turned around and approached Adam and gripped the collar tightly, he was so angry he was thinking clearly.

Adam: L-Lu, you can't-!

Lucifer still on his wrathful high pulled on the part that was around Adams neck and it shattered as if it was made of glass. Adam was stunned as he felt his power come back to him.

Lucifer threw himself at Adam and held him shaking, his anger cooling and sadness setting in.

Lucifer: I-I-I love you so much Addie.

I miss our God!Adam Au

Sequel 👀

In Canada Eh! Lmao

CANADA FOREVER

Yes plsss! I miss our stupid, power-hungry boy 😫😫

[dollwhite]

K.O K.O K.O

𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞

This is just a small story,I don’t know if I’m going to make it big. But if I don’t pls feel free to use my idea just give me credit!!

TW mentions if highness(aka weed)

No mentions of y/n

This isn’t really in my writing style, I wanted to try something different. If people like this I will write with this style more!!

Ps I need friends.

𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇

High,you were high as a light house right now. You found some old weed underneath your bed.Can weed get old? How old were you again? As more questions flooded your mind. You didn’t hear your name being called.

𝐊.𝐎

Where did the music go?.. just a few minutes ago, some random song was blasting .But now it’s like you could hear a pen drop.

𝐊.𝐎

Wait, this isn’t your bed? This isn’t your bedroom, you had black cat pictures on the door leading towards your bathroom. This isn’t your apartment…?

𝐊.𝐎

Who was that.. who was that calling you name?.. her voice sounds familiar. who is she. Do you know her. Isn’t her name R-Ram.?… why is she yelling your name..

“Ram..? What-were am I?..”

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬.

It’s like something’s in your mouth blocking the flow.like the words aren’t meant to be there.

what’s wrong with you.

“K.o we have to go right now! The police are here come on.”..

As you sat up taking a full look around who ever room you were in. It looks nice, nothing out of the ordinary.

𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒

“Are you sure this is the right address?” A figure with a blue bird embezzled on their chest spoke softly under their breath, but just loud enough for the other people on coms to hear. Also Taking notice of the youngest robin standing on top of a nearby building, waiting for the signal that Batman was supposed to be giving.

Police man were also on the scene, so all the suspects can be taking in to custody right away.

“Robin,Night-wing come in.” A deep voice came over the coms. The dark night himself was here to investigate this “party” in reality it was a human trafficking operation. The party was to lure young women primarily.

“I’m in, there’s approximately only three people left in this houses it looks like the others have left.” Robin’s voice filled the coms, informing his mentors about the situation.

As Robin makes a b line for the living room, Batman in the backyard looking for any kinda clues of were the traffickers went. And Nightwing in the bedrooms.

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘

“Guys I found something…or someone” Nightwings words ring over coms. “Im on my way!” Batman yelled, Gotham dark night himself rushing into the house through the backdoor. Passing the youngest boy wonder, on the way.

“What-!” Batman stopped midway through his sentence. He know that this ‘party’ was just a cover up for human trafficking. But what he didn’t expect was to find a young woman high out of her mind. Maybe this was their new victim, and well they were in a hurry to get out of this house. They forgot to take her.

“Grab her, and take her back to the cave.” He said, “Don’t let the cops see you.”

“Alright pretty lady, up we go!” Night wing explained grabbing her in a bridal style.

“ promise not to drop me?..” you asked fear laced in your voice. “ Only a dummy would drop a pretty lady like you.” Nightwing said opening up a nearby window,shifting your weight on his more dominant arm.

he grabbed a all black grappling hook, “Hold on real tight for me?”

“Wait-what?!” You gasped, your hold on him tightening.

𝐁𝐀𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐕𝐄

“Red I need you to do a saliva test”

“Nightwing, I’m not going to test you for stds go to a clinic” Red Robin said not taking his eyes off of the bat computer.”When have I ever asked you to- never mind that, the tests not for me it’s for her.”

“Who?” Red Robin asked turning around to look at Nightwing. Only to see a woman just staring back at him, in Nightwings arms. “uh, who’s she?” He asked, he prayed Niightwing didn’t just take a rondo lady off the street. ”this is pretty lady, pretty lady meet Red Robin.” “hi, uh I’m k.O” you said in a casual tone, as you climbed down from Nightwings arms. “Hey k.O, why is she her??” Red Robin said,”Br-Batman said your weren’t allowed to bring your flings in the cave”

”…she’s a woman we found at the party, we think they drugged her with something.”

That’s the end of K.O K.O K.O!!!! low-key think I cooked with this 😫 I tried my best to write for Tim, I think he gives off a moody teen vibes 😭 if y’all hit any suggestions for writing for Tim don’t be say drop them in my doll house!! It’s 4:18 am I got school in the morning wish me luck 😔 i

[thetormentita]

the woman in winter (se ābra isse sōnar) - chapter 3

the unspoken rule says that no man should interfere in what the gods have set.

Pairing: Original Female! Targaryen x Cregan Stark

A/n: finally! This feels like a fill-up chapter but idc! 🤪

Warnings: bit of fluff? not much, tbh, maybe jace being kinda jealous and cregan not letting elia alone much time 🤔

Rating: Teen (+13)

Tagging list: @novaursa @maegelletargaryen

The farewell had been bittersweet, filled with promises and good words, with tight hugs and little gifts, but also with the unspoken understanding that things would never be quite the same.

A soft rumble takes her out of her thoughts as her eyes go to the sky and the looming shadow of Mayhem flies over them, like wanting to shield them from any possible danger that could approach the galley. Next to him go Vermax and Arrax, the latter somewhat smaller than the others, marking his youth and eagerness. The sight of the three dragons, with their broad wings casting large, fleeting shadows on the ground below, brings a sense of awe and a reminder of the power of house Targaryen.

“But the Dornishman's blade was made of black steel,

and its kiss was a terrible thing.”

Elia smiles at Davos Blackwood, who apparently without any malice has just started to sing. He has always had a good voice, and his spark has helped him to make friends in even the most unlikely places. The song, ‘The Dornishman’s wife’, has been chosen personally for the only element of the kingsguard to be sent to the North with them, and she finds it hard to not join him in an attempt of easying the latent sorrow.

Her gaze roams far from the ship, free, wondering, matched with a small smile curving her lips. Before her the land is changing, the rocky cliffs from the Vale’s coast letting way to the vast, rolling expanses of the North, the biting cold crawling up and wrapping around her like a familiar cloak. The shift from the relatively milder climate of the Vale to the harsh, unforgiving cold of the North marks a transition not just in scenery, but in the very essence of the journey. It is as if each gust of the chilling wind carries whispers of ancient tales of heroes and giants, of enormous beasts and trees old as time itself carved with faces of people long forgotten.

“Are you sure you don’t want to see ser Criston trying to shut Davos up?”

Her eyes go to her right and meet with the gaze of her former betrothed, the future king of the Seven Kingdoms and probably her best friend. A sort of warm feeling clings to her chest, her little treasure for what the future may bring, when she realizes how funny he finds the teasing to the Kingsguard.

“No, I think I will pass on that,” she says with a light chuckle, the warm feeling in her chest blossoming into a soft smile.

Jacaerys’s eyes roam over the changing landscape and hers follow as well, not before noticing the spark upon his face, the way the halfclouded sunbeams sculpt his profile against the vast canvas of the sky.

“I must say I am not completely pleased with the idea, but I like to think how the whole North will bend the knee to you” he mutters, biting his lower lip as if the thought brings a mix of worry and pride. “You, with the North at your back, would be an unparalleled force, feared and respected across the whole Westeros.”

“You make it look bigger than it is…” She replies, her voice trailing off as she gazes into the distance, contemplating the weight of his words. The very idea of such power is both intoxicating and daunting.

“You heard Viserys. If time comes, I will need you by my side, El, and with Cregan Stark come the fiercest warriors of the whole realm.”

Religion. Politics. Prophecies. Around her everybody seems to see a different side of her oncoming marriage she just cannot make sense of.

“What if nothing happens?” he tilts his head to look at her, his purple irises full of questions. “What if you get to sit on the throne and need nothing from the North?”

Silence lingers between them, and she sees the flicker of doubt in his eyes, mirroring her own uncertainties. She inhales deeply, aware of the heavy burden her words might carry, deciding to tread carefully yet honestly.

Before them the coastline of the biggest port of the North stretches out, almost waiting for them, the white buildings of the city gleaming like pearls against the backdrop of the dark sea. The sight is both intimidating and awe-inspiring, a constant reminder of the power and responsibility that rests upon her shoulders.

Before Jacaerys has any chance to answer, the sailors that have guided them to their destination start to prepare them all for their landing at the door of winter itself.

…

He has had his time to assume the future during their travel, but he cannot help but feel a tight knot at the mouth of his stomach the very moment his horse sets foot on Manderly territory. Despite knowing that he has to wed again in order to keep the name of his house and his lineage alive, Cregan is fully aware that another death like Arra’s would be too much to handle.

The moment he meets with Desmond Manderly, Cregan can sense the weight of expectation resting upon his shoulders. Desmond, with a keen eye and a firmer voice than Cregan remembers from their youth, speaks of alliances and the future. The Manderlys have always been a strong ally to his house since they were let to live in the North and use the Wolf’s Den a thousand years before the arrival of Aegon the Conqueror to the frozen lands of their forbears, and the relationship between both houses had always been firm, built on mutual respect and shared interests.

“If only I would have had a daughter…”

Cregan throws a sideways glance at the big-bellied lord of White Harbor as they lead the party to welcome the princess and her retinue, arriving there before the ship can even be seen, the guards alerted by the presence of three dragons upon the sky, their roars freezing the blood of the Northmen, definitely not used to hear such sound echoing through their lands. The lords of the North, in their thick furs and heavy cloaks, stand stiffly, partly in awe, partly in fear, and Cregan’s grey eyes land upon the biggest beast, dark as the night sky, its scales glimmering with a hint of silver under the weak northern sun; it is a sight so foreign, yet so majestic, that even the most seasoned warriors among them cannot help but marvel at it. The beast circles above, its massive wings casting shadows over the city, as its companions follow in its wake, their colours brighter, shades

of green and gold shimmering in the sunlight.

Three dragons changed the history of the North generations ago, and three dragons will change it again.

He can hear the steel of the men’s arms jangling with a mix of anticipation and fear, as they prepare for what is to come, and Cregan just needs a raising hand for his men to abandon the idea roaming their minds.

“If anybody dares to raise a blade to their future lady, I will be cutting heads before sun sets.”

His voice, laced with a stern warning, cuts through the tense air like a blade through silk. The men, seasoned warriors of the North, exchange glances in silence, understanding the gravity of their lord's words. The atmosphere is heavy with the weight of loyalty and the unspoken promise of protection.

They respect him, and they should do the same with their lady.

…

Her eagerness betrays her when her eyes scan the people gathered by the wharf, maybe hoping to see a big retinue with direwolves emblazoned on their clothes, or banners with the sigil of her future house.

“D���ya think they have spare furs?” Aeron’s voice next to hers pushes her to hold his hand with too much strength, her nervousness palpable. “It’s colder here than I thought.”

She smiles weakly, trying to focus on his words and not on the fluttering in her stomach or the way her heart seems to beat louder with each passing moment. “Sure they do,” she replies, her voice barely above a whisper, striving to inject a confidence she doesn’t feel into her words.

They get closer, and her gaze meets the one of the man with the longsword at his back. Elia needs nobody to tell her who he is.

When the gangway is set for them to leave the galley, she takes a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves that dance under her skin like fireflies in the dark. All eyes upon her as, step by step, she descends, her posture straight, projecting an air of assurance that belies the turmoil within. She can feel the weight of the man’s gaze, intense and unfaltering, as if trying to decipher an ancient script written upon her face. Elia can sense the whispers that begin to swirl around them, carried by the salty breeze, a mixture of curiosity and speculation. When the man with the longsword at his back approaches her, she hesitates for a moment, not ready for a moment like that one.

“Your Highness” he takes her hand, bowing slightly, a gesture of respect that feels oddly comforting in the midst of her inner chaos. His voice is a soft baritone, carrying a warmth that belies the coolness of the sea air. “Welcome to the North. Hope you had a safe travel.”

Nothing exists around them, not really. She allows herself a moment to get lost in those grey eyes of his, deep and captivating, and the warmth of his touch despite the layers of cloth between them is undeniably comfortable. It sparks something within her, a flicker of something like hope, or maybe the beginning of trust in this new, mysterious place.

“I certainly did, lord Stark” she finds herself saying, her voice steadier than she feels. The corners of his lips tilt up ever so slightly in what might be the ghost of a smile, an expression so rare and fleeting that it imbues the moment with a sense of exclusivity, as though she’s been allowed a glimpse into a private world seldom shared with others. “You did not have to do any of this for me.”

“Anything for the future lady of Winterfell.”

His words hang between them, heavy with implications of duty and perhaps something more, a depth of feeling that neither of them is ready to acknowledge just yet. It feels like a promise, a vow unspoken yet as binding as any oath made under the watchful eyes of the old gods and the new. Her heart swells with a mix of emotions—gratitude, apprehension, and an emerging seed of affection that she dares not name. The weight of his gaze is both comforting and unsettling, stirring a myriad of thoughts within her.

The strangely comfortable silence between them both is interrupted by a man who introduces himself as Desmond Manderly, and Elia, only by the glance Cregan throws at him, already knows that despite being important allies to her future house, lord Desmond is not a man who leaves his own priorities aside when he has the chance to advance them. His introduction is smooth, his words carefully chosen, painting the picture of a man who is both a friend and a formidable player in the courtly games that seem to just not have let her be when she left King’s Landing.

“Feel free to rest under our roof as much time as needed, princess” for a moment he looks like a greedy uncle talking to his nephews rather to his liege and his future wife, and despite showing herself polite and easy-going, Elia is already building her own impression of the big-bellied man hiding behind a moustache almost as prominent as his ego. “Such a trip must be tiresome.”

“In fact,” Elia can feel Jace’s presence looming behind her, almost like wanting to protect her, “I am more than eager to see my new home, lord Manderly. I am thankful for your proposition, anyway.”

Both sides get introduced, and a sort of procession guides them from the harbour to the New Castle up the hill through the Castle Stair, rows merman statues cradling bowls of burning whale oil lining the path, casting eerie shadows that danced like wraiths in the night. The air is filled with the briny scent of the sea, mingling with the smoky aroma of the burning oil, creating an atmosphere that is both mystic and foreboding, as if the very essence of the ancient town of White Harbor was welcoming them with open arms and whispered secrets.

Elia Targaryen has the first chance to enjoy a moment of a sort of solitude once she reaches her chambers, when a tub of steaming hot water is brought in for her. The servants, silent as shadows, pour the water with practiced ease, adding scented oils that fill the room with a calming aroma, chasing away the chill of the northern air and the weariness from her bones. The scent of lavender and chamomile blends with the steam, enveloping her in a cocoon of warmth and tranquility, driving her far from the prying eyes of the head of house Manderly, the looming presence of ser Criston or even the silent clash between Cregan and Jace, like wanting to establish a pact between them both that none of them has the guts to accept first.

…

“Lord Stark.”

Cregan turns, and the face of the heir to the Iron Throne is right behind him, his dark eyes observing every move of him.

“My prince.” Cregan bows slightly, maintaining the respect due to royalty, yet his stance remains firm, a testament to the unwavering nature of the Northmen. Despite his loyalty to King’s Landing and the house of the dragons, he is fully aware of the history of house Targaryen and their forgotten promises related to the North. “What may I do for you?”

Cregan’s eyes cannot deny the evident. Jacaerys Velaryon and Elia Targaryen may not look like a typical Valyrian, but the atmosphere that surrounds them suggests an inherent nobility, an unspoken power that seems to flow through their veins as effortlessly as the blood of their ancestors.

“She seems to like you.”

She. Not ‘Elia’, nor ‘my cousin’, not even ‘the princess’.

“The feeling is mutual” he keeps to himself a soft smile when memories from the dinner come to his mind, Elia sat by his side, constantly asking questions about his homeland, his kin and their traditions. “My lady is a curious soul, the fire in her is undeniable ,” he reflects, the warmth of the memory painting a fond expression on his face.

The conversation around the dinner table had been electrifying, with Elia Targaryen, the promise of Aegon the Conqueror and Jaehaerys the Conciliator made flesh, shining by herself, no need of flourished garments nor her own retinue supporting her. The spark in her gaze captivated everyone, her eyes casting ancient hues when the lights of the torches and the candles reflected in them, speaking of a lineage steeped in dragonfire and destiny. Each word she spoke carried the weight of history, yet her laughter, light and unburdened by the burdens of her bloodline, filled the room with an infectious joy. It was as if the shadows of his own life had stepped aside to let her try to win her place within his soul.

The grim upon the prince’s face says a lot of things, but not the one he wants to express.

“She has a sweet tooth, her favourites are the lemon cakes. She is not fond of sewing, but her works are delicate and full of detail” as he speaks, Jacaerys’s eyes almost shine with a glow different than the one of the candles around them. “She adores flying, but sometimes she takes profit on her dragon’s independent tendencies and lets him fly on his own.”

He loves her. He still does.

…

A day. Enough for her to study more and more her future lands, and for her small retinue to pretend enjoying the strange city of White Harbor as much as they are supposed to.

A short promenade leads her to the sept, and there, amidst the quiet atmosphere and the soft flickering of candlelight, she finds a strange peace she will not certainly miss —or at least she thinks so. Sat by one of the benches, her indigo eyes observe the statues looming over her, the Manderlys showing themselves too much, even with the images of the Seven, huge looming statues of stone white as the purest snow, garnished with sea green details making them even more than what they really are.

The words sent a while ago to her grandsire still linger in her mind, a short message to reassure him of their arrival and the Northmen’s kindness towards them. She had already planned to send another raven to King’s Landing once she had settled in her new home in Winterfell, the heart of the North. The transition from the sun-kissed towers of King’s Landing to the grey stone and colder airs of the North is stark, but not unwelcome. The North holds a rugged beauty that she finds herself growing fond of, even if the chill seeps into her bones.

The stillness of the place helps unveiling the opening of the door, the creaking of wood and iron echoing against the stone walls. Despite not being precisely fond of the sudden end of her time for contemplation, she tries to guess who is coming before the person reveals themselves, only for the noise of the steps. The heavy footsteps grow closer, deliberate and unhurried, typical of the men of the North, who take pride in their steadfast demeanor. As the figure steps into the dim light, the shadows dance across his rugged features, a specific face among the many she has come to know in such a little time.

A soft smile tugs from the corners of her lips at the sight of the man.

“I can get you a sept built in Winterfell just for you, if that pleases you, my lady.”

Despite the sept being empty, she slightly moves to a side, like wanting to let him find an empty seat beside her.

“There will be no need. I am just bidding farewell.”

As her eyes return to the statues, Cregan Stark takes a sit next to her, his presence both comforting and imposing, and the feel of his gaze upon her awakes something deep within her soul, a flicker of warmth in the cold expanse of the North.

“I want the whole of it. If I am to be the lady of Winterfell, I will submit myself entirely to the North, including their gods” she mumbles, her voice barely a whisper, yet carrying a determined edge that slices through the chill air.

“The least I want is for you to not feel comfortable.”

“At least you think about what I want” she gets comfortable next to him, her hand laying with care upon his, getting used to the warmth and roughness of his touch, finding some pleasure in it. “I appreciate that. The Seven have been a part of my life since I remember, always pushed to the Great Sept to pray and remember those gone.”

By the corner of her eye she can see the Warden of the North tilting his head, his brow furrowed as he observes the statues looming over them, and she decides he is too young to handle the burden of his title alone, the responsibility weighing on his shoulders like the heavy cloaks they wear against the northern chill.

“How is it?”

“How is what?”

“To pray for them. It is something more private here in the North.”

“The godswoods?”

“Aye.”

She starts talking about the ceremonies, the septons and septas and the aim for luxury at any sept from south of the Neck, all of them trying to display lavish paraphernalia in an attempt to please the Seven, and as she speaks, the feeling of those grey eyes upon her stirs a strange feeling she finds it likable, to have a listener so intent, so fully absorbed in her words. It makes her feel appreciated.

“I see why you have decided to leave the Seven aside… Cannot imagine how it is, really. Such display for nothing.”

“Papa used to say that without clothing we are all the same.” she lowers her gaze, her lips drawing a sort of smile, like wanting to leave the matter aside, to finally say farewell to the Gods her ancestors had to start praying to in order to be accepted by the Westerosi kings of old. “Can’t wait to see Winterfell.”

She lifts her eyes then, bright with a mix of curiosity and determination, her hand approaching his almost by itself, seeking the reassurance found in the warmth of his touch.

“‘Tis not much compared to King’s Landing, but Winterfell has its own charm. If you get to find anything unpleasant once we have reached home, be sure it will be dealt with. The least I want is for you to not feel it as your home as well, my lady.”

“Please, do call me Elia.”

[daz4i]

please keep drawing nikolai as a fucked up angel. it heals +5 hp for me every time i see those

[team-frightfur]

Thanks to the colour palette choice it also looks like she's facing down Yuri (and I guess her 'guilt in her 'responsibility' in her own mind). It's nicely symbolic and full of double meanings! Nice A+ work. Also forgot to mention but I love the addition of heartlands insane streets. I can see them lurking in the bg. No safety rails. Death city.

Birds and Stones.

[autistichalsin]

Some of you are literally watching the right wing continuously try to expand the definition of "pedophilia" to include "existing around a child while queer," and then agreeing with them when they say pedophiles deserve to be summarily executed.

Not only does this place innocent people in danger of political executions, it also puts children in danger, as most children who are sexually abused have this done by someone close to them, and feelings that they would be responsible for the death of their abuser if they reported leads to lower rates of reporting. It also leads to higher rates of abusers murdering their victims when they're found out because the punishment will be the same anyway.

Part of being on the left is realizing that it's better to let 100 guilty men go free than to wrongly convict one. Another part of being on the left is realizing that one's life is never something others have the right to take away- even the most evil people alive. Yes, that includes mass murderers and rapists and pedophiles. Once you make one group acceptable to kill, you give others a vested interest in defining groups they have prejudice against into that group.

You have to start dealing with the fact that no crime makes one's life forfeit. Not even the worst most depraved and sadistic acts. The worst people alive have rights, and if you can't accept that they deserve them, at least try to accept that it is to your benefit that they retain rights no matter what they're accused of. And if you can't do even that, well... you just might be the kind of person who would cut off your nose to spite your face.

If you want to protect victims, if you want to protect minority groups, you have to realize that sex crimes, or any crimes at all, do not deserve the death penalty. Period.

[saetoru]

AGE IS NOTHING BUT A NUMBER — GETO SUGURU.

kinktober day two — overstimulation ; find masterlist here

synopsis. befriending nanako and mimiko has its perks—like fucking their father, for example. suguru might have aged over the years, but that doesn't mean he's lost his touch. don't believe him? that's okay—he can always just show you instead

length. 5.3k words (bro this fic was agonizing)

contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, dilf! suguru, college au (reader is a student), age gaps (20+ difference), jealous suguru, teasing, cunnilingus, fingering, edging, nipple play, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, angel)

notes. this took me so long bc i hate it so im posting it and running away to play genshin to slave away for primos

most people can tell their best friends everything. not you, though—you have a secret. a dirty, shameful, horrible little secret, in fact.

no one knows that every chance you get, every small little moment you can possibly squeeze in, you fuck your two best friends’ father—and it’s going to stay that way, unknown and forever hidden. suguru is young as far as parents go, just barely in his twenties when he’s found himself a single father of two, but that doesn’t mean he’s not too old for you. and it especially doesn’t mean that it’s not inappropriate to fuck the man that raised your two closest friends.

you meet nanako and mimiko during your freshman year of college—the rest is history. the first time you spend the night at their place, suguru (he insists you call him that on your first meeting) is overjoyed that his girls have someone as lovely as you.

who wouldn’t be? you’re smart, well-mannered, respectable, and incredibly studious. what a perfect role model for his girls—after all, every father’s worst nightmare is his sweet, precious daughters venturing off to the real world. men are dogs—suguru should know. they’re sleazy and prey on young women who are naive and unsuspecting, taking advantage of their hopefulness before completely destroying their innocence. suguru can’t bear the idea of his perfect little girls becoming victims of such sinister behavior—but that’s all quelled when he meets you.

but he never thought, not even for one second, that he’d become one of those men.

those older men who fuck girls half their age—the girls that are barely in their twenties and still don’t even really understand how taxes work. the girls that have just started to learn how to hold their alcohol and can only recently buy it legally. the girls who don’t realize how complicated adulthood can be, just barely spreading their wings and learning what it’s like to be free.

suguru has always found those men deplorable. they’re the awful, disgusting, untamed vermin of society—women must be protected from them at all costs.

but now? well….now he’s one of them—and he finds, even as disgusted with himself as he is from time to time, he has little regrets.

not when you’re sprawled under him, hands tracing over his bare chest, feeling the soft skin under your palms in wonder. suguru, though he’s not let himself go by any means, is past his prime—he still frequents the gym, and he has more time to go now that the girls are gone most of the day, but he’s not immune to the effects of aging.

his hair has more than a few strands of white sprinkled in now; nanako makes sure to remind him not to pull them out unless he wants more. he’s still managed to keep the abs he was once so proud of in his youth, but they’re still not as hard—layered over a slight belly that he can’t seem to get rid of no matter what he tries. his skin is a bit looser, and his eyes have slight wrinkles in the corners of them, but despite it all, suguru still looks as handsome as ever.

he’s aged well, still looks remarkably young for men his age, and still looks like that dashing young man he once was who stole hearts. in fact, he still hears about his looks, especially from nanako and mimiko’s friends—he’s always chuckled to himself and shook his head in amusement.

that’s your dad? god, he’s so hot.

what? he’s single? oh my gosh, do you need a mom?

i can’t believe he’s never been married—women in his generation don’t deserve him. i’ll take him off their hands.

wait, do you have pictures of him when he was younger?

oh my god, he’s so fine. are you sure he’s in his forties?

nanako and mimiko, bless their hearts, have always crinkled their noses at the…less than proper comments they’ve had to witness about their father. in fact, they’ve watched teachers practically throw themselves onto suguru at parent-teacher conferences. it’s bothersome—a little disturbing to hear their friends talk about all the things they’d let their dad, of all people, do to them.

but you? you don’t make unhinged comments. they appreciate that.

but if only they knew…

if only they knew that sometimes, like right now, when you’re spending the night, you don’t actually sleep—instead, you sneak off to their father’s room, lay on his mattress under his body, and feel his touch. you can feel him, hard and throbbing in his sweats as his clothed cock presses against your thigh—but he takes his time with you, and doesn’t do anything about the clear arousal pooling between your legs just yet. 

instead, he focuses on remembering your body—it’s been a while, after all. he hasn’t felt your hips, hasn’t tasted your skin, hasn’t heard your voice. 

“missed you,” suguru breathes, hovering over you as you hum, nipping at your skin as his nose brushes along your neck. your hand is playing with his hair, twisting long, black and white strands along your fingers. “haven’t seen you in a bit, angel.”

“i’ve had midterms,” you murmur.

suguru knows—nanako and mimiko have been studying for them themselves. he’s more than a little disappointed that you haven’t come over to study with them yet. but then, just the other night, mimiko mentions you’ve been spending your time with a boy at the library, sharing a table as you lean over his shoulder to look at his laptop. nanako giggles that you might have finally gotten yourself a boyfriend. mimiko hums and nods as she murmurs it’s about time.

suguru swallows down every bite of dinner with an aftertaste of bile that night.

a boy—a boy? you’ve been skipping coming over to study with the girls (and, by default, seeing him) just to study with some boy? what’s got your attention on the guy so badly? why would you break the routine you’ve had for the last few semesters for someone you just recently met? have you finally started to realize that this is a mistake? is suguru a mistake?

he thinks maybe not, now that you’re back in his bed—but he still has too many unanswered questions. 

“so i’ve heard,” he says lowly, “i’ve also heard there’s a certain boy on your radar.” he smiles bitterly, pulling away from your neck to stare at you with those dark, sharp eyes of his. “a much younger, and fitting match for you, i suppose.”

you roll your eyes, snorting.

“is that what nanako and mimiko have told you? honestly, those two,” you huff fondly, “i told them already. he’s just my partner for a presentation. we’re practicing.”

“oh?” suguru raises a brow—and then he shivers lightly when you lean up and kiss his jaw, eyes fluttering shut at your touch.

“yes,” you giggle, “no need to be jealous of someone half your age, you know.”

“that’s exactly why i’m jealous,” he breathes, leaning in to kiss you softly.

your lips taste like honey—probably sweeter, in fact. they drip with that decadent, saccharine taste of youth. he feels twenty again every time he kisses you, feels not a day older than his glory days.

“oh, you poor thing,” you grin, cupping his face as you scatter kisses along his cheeks and nose, thumb tracing the skin. fuck, is this what it feels like to be in love? it makes him feel so young, so free, and hopeful for the future. when was the last time he felt this way? “have you been losing sleep over my nonexistent college boyfriend?”

“well, kids your age fool around quite a bit,” he says in that father tone that he uses on nanako and mimiko, “what was i supposed to think?”

you’ve heard that tone so many times before; the one where he talks like he knows better, like he’s wiser, like he’s aware of something you’re not. 

girls, make sure you share your location with me—i need to find you in case anything happens. it’s for your own safety, end of discussion.

make sure you watch over your drinks, okay? men these days take every chance they get to spike them when you’re not looking. mimiko, i was your age once, too. i’ve seen this happen plenty.

don’t walk alone in the streets at night. call me. i’ll pick you up—no, nanako, it’s not lame. the streets are dangerous at night. there are creeps, you know.

don’t get into any boy’s cars, girls. you never know what’ll happen; one mistake is all it takes to ruin your life—hey, don’t roll your eyes at me. one day, you’ll understand i’m right.

“i’m not a kid,” you pout, and then, smugly this time, you wiggle your brows. “did’ya lose sleep over my imaginary boyfriend? you need plenty of sleep at your age, y’know.”

“no, you’re not a kid,” suguru agrees, “you’re a brat.” and then he’s back to pressing those hot, open-mouthed, hungry kisses along your jaw, humming in delight when you angle your head to give him better access. 

sometimes, it’s fun to get under suguru’s skin—it’s fun to break that carefully built, mature patience of his, pulling a twitch of his eye and a furrow of his brow from him. so, you grin widely as you murmur, “who knows? maybe he’d fuck better—more stamina, y’know?”

it’s supposed to just tease him, to make him glare at you unimpressed so you can giggle and kiss between his brows—but suguru stills at that, painfully stiff for a moment before he bites at your skin. hard. 

“oh yeah?” he hisses, his voice low and dangerous as he pulls away to glare down at you, “you think so? what, you think an old man like me can’t fuck you long enough?”

you don’t get a chance to reply—not before he pulls your pants down your waist to reveal your soaked panties, pulling a hum from him as he grins at the damp patch of fabric. his fingers circle over your clit for a moment, right over the cloth, making your breath hitch as you buck into his touch. 

“suguru—”

“look at that,” he chuckles, “wearing my favorite one, huh? can’t fuck you that bad if you try your best to impress me. isn’t that what you wanted? is that what you were thinking when you put these on before coming over? how precious,” he murmurs—he speaks so condescending, so knowingly, as if he’s read your mind just by looking at the red lace covering your dripping cunt. you cover your face in humiliation, but he grabs your wrists and pins them over your head, clicking his teeth in disapproval. 

part of you knows you should quit while you can—the other part? well…it wants to test the limits a bit longer. suguru has never been so easy to rile up, you want to indulge in it for just a bit longer if you can help it. 

“well,” you huff, “what’re you waiting for, then? don’t tell me the age has slowed you down—”

“you really don’t know when to quit, do you?” he says in a low snarl, “fine, you want me to hurry up? you got it, princess.”

it all happens before you can even register—one moment, you’re grinning at him with mischief in your eyes; the next second, he has you in nothing but your bra, bare in his bed as he pulls your legs apart and leans close to your pussy.

“you know the thing about guys your age,” he hums, toying with your clit lazily as you gasp with a twitch, “is that they really don’t know how to take care of anyone but themselves. guess they just don’t have enough experience to really figure it out.”

his lips latch onto your clit, sucking before he rolls his tongue over the sensitive bud as his fingers sink into your core, pushing past your folds and stretching you open. it’s slow—deliberately so, in fact. it makes your head spin, and your fingers curl into the bed sheets as you pant. 

“suguru, m-more—”

“don’t worry,” he coos, pulling away from you to grin up at your glossy eyes, “you’ll get plenty, baby. we’ll see if you’ve got the stamina. y’know, since you’re so young.”

his lips are back to wrap around your clit, fingers sinking and curling exactly where you’re most sensitive—suguru finds your sweet spots instantly the first time he has you sprawled under him. didn’t even take a moment of trial, just knew where to touch and kiss to have you unravel in his hold. that much still hasn’t changed—his fingertips press against the sensitive spot in the back of your walls, pulling pretty little whines from you as his tongue flicks over your clit. 

it’s always been a blessing that nanako and mimiko’s room is across the house—had they been closer, they might hear the mewl you let out as his fingers bully into you faster, unforgiving as they brush against your walls and build the ache up between your legs until it’s about to burst. 

“s-suguru, ‘m close, so, so close—”

“already?” he gasps, chuckling as he presses a kiss to your clit with a sly grin, “thought you had more in you than that, baby. so youthful—figured you’d last a bit longer.”

he’s mean about it—rubs it in your face some more that you’re so close so fast before he pulls his fingers away and doesn’t even give you the satisfaction of falling apart on his digits. it makes you sob, hips bucking up to chase the friction of his fingers, but he’s already gone, leaving your walls empty and fluttering around nothing.

“no,” your voice breaks, “n-no, so close, please. i want—”

“that’s what he would’ve done,” suguru hums, “pulled out before you even finished. that’s what guys your age always do—they don’t know how to make girls finish. you ever had that problem with me?”

“no,” you say quickly, shaking your head. you’re a pretty little thing, he thinks—pouty, wobbly lips and those glossy eyes as you sniffle. “no, you always make me cum—please, i wanna cum, sugu.”

“yeah?” he pouts with faux sympathy, “didn’t feel good, huh? feels better when i take care of you, doesn’t it?”

“uh huh,” you nod—you’re still panting through the aftershocks of having your orgasm ripped from you, chest rising and falling harsh enough that it fills him with pride he can pull such drastic reactions from you. no one knows your body like suguru—he’s too good at giving it what it wants for anyone else to compare. 

“think that boy—” he spits the last word like it’s poison on his tongue, “—can take care of you?”

“no,” you whimper, “no, he can’t. not like you, never like you.”

“that’s a good girl,” he nods approvingly, rubbing his slick-coated finger over your clit, toying with it teasingly as you writhe, whining for more. “you know something else about men your age? they don’t care to please a woman—don’t bother to appreciate them enough to make them feel good. you think that boy would be here—” he pauses to motion between your legs, where he’s currently situated, “—willingly? taste you willingly? let you cum on his tongue willingly?”

“i-i don’t…i never asked someone to—”

“did you ever ask me?” he interrupts, raising a brow at you, “you ever have to ask me? i just do it. wanna know why? because i know what i’m doing—know how to treat you right, how to give you what you need. isn’t that right?” 

“yes, yes—you always give me what i want—”

“what you need,” he corrects, “and you know what i think you need right now? this.”

his tongue licks a stripe along your entrances before you can say anything else, pulling a gasp out of you as your hands find his hair and tug—suguru groans at that, feels his pants get impossibly tighter as the aching erection he sports throbs between his legs at the way you pull at the strands so desperately, so needy. for him. only ever him. 

his tongue fucks into you, messy with the way he devours you, the slick arousal pooling from your cunt coating his lips, his cheeks, his chin. you moan—and really, it’s almost a squeal—when his fingers are sinking back into you, tongue flicking away at your clit mercilessly as he thrusts his digits in and out of your pussy. you’re close, painfully so, the pressure steadily building and building until you just can’t hold it back anymore. 

“sugu—’m c-cumming. god ‘s so good—feels good,” you babble, thighs closing around his head as his fingers curl into your sweet spot over and over again, not stopping for even a second as he helps you ride out your high. your walls spasm around his fingers, tight as they flutter around him and make him groan at the thought of being inside you. 

he watches, hungry and in awe, as your back arches off the mattress and your mouth parts, broken little wails of his name rolling off your tongue in a sweet melody. 

“i bet he’s never seen someone look like this,” suguru murmurs, watching the way the ecstasy takes over your features as your face falls slack from pleasure, “so pretty when falling apart. bet he’d never even get close to making you look so fucked from just his tongue.”

your orgasm ripples through you—it’s not new, the way he makes you feel so good, but it’s definitely nothing to get used to either. your body slumps back onto the mattress as you finish, panting harshly while he climbs up to hover over you once again. 

“that felt good?” he asks, nosing at your cheek as you nod breathlessly.

“yeah,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“hope you’re not tired out just yet,” he says smugly, eyeing the way sweat clings to your forehead and huffs of air exhale from your lungs with each labored breath, “because we’re nowhere near done, baby. not even close.”

just like that, your bra is unclasped and pulled off, freeing your tits for his mouth to latch onto a nipple, sucking and lightly grazing his teeth along the bud while his fingers tease at the other, pinching and rubbing over it with his thumb. you whine, eyes squeezing shut as your hand cups the back of his head and keeps him in place. 

“bet i could make you cum just from this,” he says with a laugh, “i don’t even need to fuck you.”

“please,” you dig your nails into his shoulder, moaning as he switches to wrap his lips around the other nipple, “please, sugu—n-need more.”

“be more specific,” he says lowly, looking up at you in amusement, “gonna need more than that, princess. you gotta help me out here—i’m afraid i don’t know what i’m doing.”

suguru is doing everything he can to drag this out—if you’d known one small comment would have him riled up like this…well, truthfully, you can’t say you wouldn’t have made it anyway. it’s exciting in its own right when he’s so determined to show you why you need him, why no one else but him is meant to see you like this, make you fall apart like this, have you sprawled under them like this. 

no one can know about you and suguru—not nanako and mimiko, not your other friends, not your family. you know what they’d say, how they’d feel. 

disgust—shame, even. he’s far too old for you, you know they’d say; he’s a red flag for getting with someone so young. no one can know that you come here, dead in the middle of the night when your friends are asleep, and fuck their father. not only that—lay with their father, talk about your hopes and dreams for the future with their father, giggle as you gossip with their father, fall in love with their father. 

something tells you the feeling is not unreciprocated—that suguru feels the same, that he loves holding you in his arms just as much as you love laying in them. maybe it wasn’t a joke, what you’d said. not to him, at least—maybe deep down, it stung; maybe he had something to prove. that boy might be closer to you in age, but he’ll never, ever treat you the way suguru does—no one will, for that matter. perhaps he has to show it so you really know. 

so you look him in the eye, pull him closer until his forehead is pressed against yours and you can press a delicate kiss to his lips before you murmur against them, “fuck me, suguru. please—need you.”

he groans at that, closes his eyes before his hips move to press the thick tip of his cock against your folds, dragging it along your entrance as he coats his head with your slick. it’s flushed a deep pink—it’s been neglected for so long that he shudders at the way it aches, at the way even the slightest friction along the sensitive tip pulls a soft gasp from him. 

for a moment, he wonders if he really will last long enough to fuck you properly—he might not, with the way your walls always squeeze around him, always have him ready to fuck his load into you just as soon as he’s inside you. the thought alone almost makes his cock twitch—but suguru is a man of patience, so he slowly pushes into you, inch by inch, looking down and watching as his girth disappears inside you. 

“look at that,” he coos, grinning wide as he looks back up at you, “took me so easily. ‘s cause when you do it right, it doesn’t take much, does it?”

“f-fuck—” your head presses back against the pillow, mouth hung open as you breathe heavily, trying to squirm and get even the slightest bit of friction from him as he stays painfully still. “move, suguru—please, c-can’t wait anymore. jus’ wanna feel you.”

“i know,” he chuckles, “patience is a virtue, sweetheart.”

despite it all, suguru is not feeling very patient anymore—it’s been long enough. his hips roll slowly at first, a shallow thrust of his hips that makes you both moan lowly before he all but pulls out and slams back in, hard. you can feel the burning stretch of his girth practically splitting you open, every thick vein dragging along your cunt and every brush of his tip against the back of your walls. it’s loud—the sound of skin slapping against skin, the sound of his deep groans and your breathless whines, the sound of the headboard hitting the wall as he fucks you into his mattress. 

“god—fuck, suguru—th-there,” you mewl as he slams into you right where you need him. 

you’ve lost count of how many times suguru has fucked you like you’re his. in his bed at night, in his shower in the mornings, on the couch when you drop by when the girls aren’t home, in his car that one time he drove you home when it rained, in your apartment that one time he dropped off your laptop because you forgot it. there’s one common denominator—the way he makes you feel, not just from the way his cock ruts into you, but from the way his fingers tangle with yours, from the way his mouth finds your jaw to kiss, from the way his forehead presses into your shoulder with warmth. 

it’s exciting, maybe. at first, it’s scandalous and a little thrilling in its own right. by now, it’s something much more than that—you don’t think anyone could make you feel the way he does, fuck you like he does, even if they tried. even if they knew where to touch and where to kiss. even if they knew what you liked and what you didn’t. 

they couldn’t be suguru—would never be suguru. 

“there, huh?” he pants, moaning softly as he feels your walls flutter around him tightly, “i know. i know how to fuck this pussy—my pussy. you think some boy you hardly know would know? think he’d care to learn? think he’d even try?”

“no,” you gasp, shaking your head as your hips buck up to meet his sharp thrusts, “no. no one would make me feel this good. make me feel so good, sugu.”

“ngh—sh-shit,” he hisses at your words, cock almost swelling harder at the way you praise him, at the way your words are almost slurred with no real thought behind him. it’s a little pride-inducing, the way you’re still able to sing his praises without having to really think about it first. he can hear it, the way you’re lost in the drag of his cock, drunk in the haze of pleasure, unfocused on everything else besides the way he bullies his thick girth into your abused cunt.

it’s a mess, it’s filthy the way there’s a mix of pre cum and your slick at the base of his cock, along your inner thighs, coating your skin as the squelching sound of him nudging past your folds fills the room.

it’s good, the way he makes you feel—he can hear it in your voice as you wail his name.

“s-suguru—oh.”

“what, you gettin’ all fucked out on me? ‘m not even close yet, princess,” he hums, leaning down to kiss your neck as he sucks softly into your sweet spot. you throw your head back, rasping out a cry of his name again as his balls slap against your ass with a harsh roll of his hips. 

and then his hand makes its way between your bodies, thumb attaching itself to your clit before rubbing punishing circles into the bundle of nerves—you sob at that, back arching up as your chest presses against his, nipples hard as they brush along his skin.

“s-sugu—close, ‘m gonna cum a-again—so close,” you pant brokenly, every sentence cut off with a sharp gasp as he thrusts into you. 

you’re close—you can’t fight back the way the coil in your belly snaps as he teases your clit. it’s still sensitive from the last orgasm, every nerve still burning up from before as he gives you more, gives you too much, almost. you cum harder this time—your second high creeping up on you when you least expect it. 

it makes your eyes roll back, makes your thighs quiver, and tears stream down your cheeks as you chant his name over and over. suguru, ‘s so good. suguru, ‘m cumming. suguru, ‘s all for you.

every sentence makes his cock drill into you faster, sloppier in rhythm, maybe, but faster. needier. bordering on desperate. 

“f-fuck, baby,” he grunts, “squeezin’ me so tight—such a tight fuckin’ cunt. you think just anyone deserves this? think you can just walk around and let anyone fuck this? ‘s bullshit—ngh.”

you don’t answer—can’t answer, in fact. it’s all teary eyes and soft sniffles as you mewl with every thrust, voice breaking between every pretty little sound you make. he’s still fucking into you, still dragging his cock against those sensitive walls, still bumping against your clit with his navel, still nudging against your sweet spot with his thick, swollen tip. it’s almost too much—it is too much, making you writhe under his body as you try to form the words. 

“‘s t-too much, sugu—c-can’t anymore,” you try, “can’t.”

“what?” he gasps, furrowing his brows in mock confusion, “you’re tappin’ out on me already? but ‘m not even done yet, sweetheart. haven’t even finished yet—don’t tell me you’re already spent. how will you keep up with your little boyfriend’s stamina if you can’t even take an old man like me?”

“c-can’t take anyone but you,” you sob, “jus’ you—only you. promise.”

“yeah? you swear?”

“uh huh. jus’ you, sugu—don’ want anyone else. won’t fuck me the same.”

“atta girl,” he coos, chuckling as he leans down to kiss your jaw, trailing soft pecks until he meets your lips, “that’s what i thought. make sure you don’t forget, okay?”

“fuck, suguru—’m…g-gonna…”

“gonna what? cum? you’re cumming again?” you nod at that—he grins wide, pride settling into the crinkles of his eyes before his thumb rubs harsh circles into your swollen clit once more. he looks pretty like that—hair framing his face, the mix of black and white strands sticking to the damp skin of his forehead. his skin is flushed, abs flexing as he pants over you. sometimes you feel guilty that half of why you come over to visit nanako and mimiko is to fuck suguru—the guilt is quickly extinguished when you see him like this, bottom lip caught between his teeth as his arms barely hold him over you, eyes shut tight as he groans. 

“i-i’m—fuck, fuck, fuck,” you can’t form sentences anymore as you cum—again. not that you really could before that, but now all you can offer is croaked half-syllables and shaky sobs. your walls squeeze around him, tight as they hug around his throbbing cock. 

it takes one, two, three more sloppy rolls of his hips before he lets out at a low, “baby, fuck—’m gonna fill you up. want that? want me to cum in you? make you mine? always been mine, haven’t you?”

“yes, yes—yours, sugu. yours, yours, yours,” you babble, words slurred between breathy moans and broken sobs. “wanna be yours.”

you can feel him—feel the way his cock twitches in you, the way he grinds into you to ride out his high, the way sticky, hot ropes of cum fill your walls, the way he fucks his load deeper into you with every sloppy thrust of his hips. his arms quiver as he holds himself over you—just barely, though. you can hear the way his voice cracks as he gasps your name over and over, as he mutters lowly about how you’re his, how you’ll always only be his. 

“mine,” he grits, “you’re fuckin’ mine—see how you’re suckin’ me in? see how i fit in this pussy like it was made for me? ‘s cause you’re mine.”

his body slumps onto yours as he finishes, head pressed into the crook of your neck as he kisses the skin while you both catch your breaths. you whimper, still sensitive, as he pulls out of you, a soft chuckle falling past his lips as he pulls his head up to look at you and press a kiss to your cheek. 

“so,” he starts, eyes laced with amusement as he takes in the fucked out look on your face, the tears still drying your cheeks, the swollen flush of your bottom lip, “still think you need someone with more stamina? someone who’ll fuck you better—”

“god,” you groan, slapping his shoulder, “will you drop it already? you got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“no,” he murmurs, pecking your lips, “still wanna hear it some more.”

“your ego needs a reality check,” you huff as you brush a strand of hair from his forehead, “think i’ve fed it plenty all night.”

“actually, i think you crushed it,” he pouts theatrically, “talking about some asshole who doesn’t care about you right in front of me. after i take such good care of you, too. the girls already think you should date him,” he adds the last part with a slightly bitter roll of his eyes, pulling a giggle out of you.

“they think i don’t know how to talk to men,” you snort, “imagine they knew i was talking to men old enough to be my father.”

“hey,” he clicks his teeth, falling onto the mattress beside you—he pulls you into his chest, letting your cheek rest on his bare skin. it’s so wrong—lying in bed with the father of your best friends. but somehow, suguru feels like the only thing you’ve ever done right. “age is nothing but a number, sweetheart.”

if i have to see the word cock one more time im going to eradicate all humans that have them

do not comment about a part 2 !!!!!!!!!!

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt.4

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.8] [Pt.9] [Pt.10]

Danny was sitting in the back, his backpack obnoxiously taking up the seat next to him, when the door to the lecture hall creaked open near silently.

“What are you in here for?” Danny asked the guy who crept into class. He sympathetically took his backpack off the Seat of Shame and allowed the guy to sit down. Funnily enough, they had the same hair and eye color.

“Gen Ed. Undecided. You?” The guy grunted quietly back.

“Environmental studies. I’m Danny.”

“Tim.”

With the implicit understanding of two people in a required class they could not give less than two fucks about, Tim and Danny tuned back into the lecture. When the class was assigned group work, Danny looked over to see Tim softly snoring, head slammed down on the table.

“Tim. Wake up, dude.” Danny poked his shoulder.

“Huh? Class over?”

“Nah, we got group work. Discussion board.”

“Oh shit, thanks for waking me up. Wanna team up?”

Danny shrugged. “Sure. We should aim to post it in the middle so the professor doesn’t read our answers to the class.”

“Yeah, sounds like a good idea. Any idea what we’re talking about?”

“Kind of?”

“Good enough for me.”

——

Tim Drake kept seeing Danny Fenton around on campus.

“Danny! Dude, what are you doing?”

Danny turned, gloved hands full of crumpled trash. “Picking up after the student population, apparently.”

“Didn’t think environmental studies was that serious.”

“Global warming is very serious, you jerk,” Danny smirked at him, crossing the grass to put the trash into the trash can. “Reduce, reuse, oil shouldn’t be spilled in water and all that.”

“Basic stuff,” Tim grinned. Nice, he basically had a friend past Bernard now!

They were friends, right?

“And yet humanity fails to comprehend it. Incredible. Incredibly stupid that is.”

“They get it. Major corporations just don’t care.”

Danny sighed. “True that. You on your way to your next class?” He took off his biodegradable gloves off (nitrile and nylon, baby!) and chucked them into the trash.

“I’ve got free time, actually. Prof cancelled for his daughter’s surgery.”

“Oh, shit, that’s rough! You wanna go downtown and join the strike?”

“A strike? What for?” Even as he asked, Tim hiked his bag higher onto his shoulder, ready to go. They fell into step as the two left campus.

“Apparently, Quillan Pharma was doing some shady shit at their manufacturing plants. I think it’s like killing kids, and pouring toxins into the ground.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah. Oh! Poison Ivy’s gonna be there!”

Tim blinked. He casted a sideways look at Danny. Sure he’s been here long enough to know… but it couldn’t hurt to check. “You know she’s an eco-terrorist, right?”

“Okay, but like… people suck sometimes. And all she’s asking for is like don’t kill the planet. And she doesn’t do that whole mind control thing too much anymore! The Sirens are so cool. Plus, one of my best friends at home might actually kill me if I don’t try to get her autograph. Poison Ivy is like, Sam’s personal hero.”

Tim snickered. “Yeah, okay. Mind if one of my friends join? His name’s Bernard.”

“The more the merrier,” Danny nodded. “Ooo! Hot chocolate. Want some?”

Danny bought three drinks as Tim trailed behind, texting Bernard.

“He said yes.”

“Cool! We should meet up somewhere before the drinks get cold.”

Well, Danny got the autograph. Tim got a new friend, and Bernard got a drink from his crush.

——

“Oh, you’re the glowing dude that Batman always talks about!”

Danny blinked, eyes scanning the wing-like cape and the yellow emblem on the hero’s suit. Danny was indeed glowing, stars and nebulas freckling across neon green skin, and glowing hair the color of a white dwarf star, tinged with the blue from his ice core.

“I… have absolutely no idea who you are,” Danny lied, like a liar. He’s found a surprising niche of entertainment in messing with the local vigilantes and he’ll be damned if he missed this opportunity.

He heard a snicker from the comm lines as Red Robin visibly brushes it off.

“I’m Red Robin. Why are you picking up trash?”

“Picking up after you humans, apparently.”

The both of them blink, feeling a weird sense of déjà vu. A moment of awkward silence passed before they both shook it off.

“Are you here to help? No offense, but the track record for you people is terrible.” Danny strode over and grabbed a bag. He opened it, and shook it at Red Robin’s face. “See? Batarangs, these odd bird looking ones, the R’s. Seriously, pick up after yourselves!”

“Oh, woah, can we have these back?”

Danny yanked the bag back before Red Robin could get close. “Pay me. These were incredibly tedious to pick up. Especially the batarangs. I mean, I even found a whole bunch of old rusted ones in the middle of the bay. What did you do, dump an entire bag in there from the air?”

Red Robin sighed and took out a wad of cash, with tracking fluid all over it. Danny grimaced, smelling the odd scent on the money. “That’s not real cash. It smells off. Are you trying to give me counterfeits because you’re broke?”

Red Robin gaped, oddly offended. “No! They’re real!”

“Doesn’t smell like it. It’s stinkier than the trash. Go get the one with the money, the litterer. Tell him I’ll be back the next full moon. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” Danny grumbled, disappearing on the spot to watch Red Robin flounder with the stack of cash and the piles of dead bodies on the shore.

“What the fuck even is my life these days?” Red Robin wondered out loud, stuffing the cash back into his pocket. He looked over the plastic wrapped bodies and slumped, sighing.

Oddly enough, Danny felt a sense of sympathy. Well, he’s not getting paid for sympathy. He’s not getting paid at all tonight, actually. Danny flew off, plunging once more into the depths of the significantly cleaner waters, and used his ice to scoop out oil stains.

Danny glanced around and sighed. He had a lot of work to do.

——

“So you’re saying he’s like a werewolf mermaid fae child immortal god thing, right?”

Bruce grunted.

“B, what the hell are you smoking these days? You know drugs are bad, right? Do we need Superman to give you that PSA?” Jason snickered.

Tim, massaging his arms from having to haul an ungodly amount of dead bodies, grunted. He’s so similar to Bruce that it gave the people currently in the cave hives.

“He said full moon. I don’t think we can track him with regular stuff. The bugs kept shorting out.”

“Oh boy,” Dick sighed. “Don’t fall off the spiral cliff, Tim. You’ve got midterms to think about so no stalking the guy.”

“Yet,” Tim shot back, changing out of his suit.

Bruce grunted, setting aside a huge stack of cash.

[freyito]

ʙᴀʟᴅᴇʀꜝ ⨟ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇꜱ

✭ pairing(s): aventurine, dr ratio, boothill, gallagher, sunday, argenti, mr. reca, sampo, jing yuan, blade, luocha, jiaoqiu, moze, dan heng, gepard, caelus, welt (seperate) x reader

✩ in which: you notice the little things they do for you/around you.

✧ a/n: a little something ive been thinkin about U_U and something to tide my followers over while i work on strawberry season! (and unfortunately fall victim to The Inspiration and The Motivation.)

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff, short n sweet, old man welt. actual old man welt, not proofread

✎ wc: 2.4k

⎯ Aventurine

One of AVENTURINE’s habits at the table is holding onto your hand, or even just linking your pinkies. It’s his way of waning himself off of clutching his chips behind his back. You’re his good luck charm, of course. It’s not just at the table or machines, though. He does this at the arcade, as well. He’ll make you stand close by, even wrap your arms around his arm as he messes with the claw machine. He swears up and down that you really are his lucky charm. If you step away, he does his very best to fail miserably. Unfortunately, he’s still somehow able to get some plushies. But he won’t let that ruin the magic.

⎯ Dr. Ratio

RATIO, while he doesn’t seem the sentimental type, really likes to take some of your jewelry with him to work. He prefers necklaces most of all, something easy to tuck in if students dare to ask about it. He loves to keep some part of you close, especially when he’s away. He won’t outright say why he likes it, but it’s something along the lines of keeping you very close to his heart. He asks politely, although a little sheepishly. He’ll lie for his pride, saying it’s simply something nice to hold on to. It’s odd, really, he’s not so shy with his declarations of love, but something so little has him pretending that he’s too shy to say it.

⎯ Boothill

There’s a lot BOOTHILL does. Too many to count. One thing he really seems to enjoy is triggering his censor on purpose. Before he had gotten serious about making you his partner, he’d get annoyed when you’d snicker and chuckle at his censor. He’d pitch a fit, huff and puff and curse you out even more. But it’s that same snicker that made him fall in love; at least, that’s what he believes. He was head over heels the minute he met you. But that's besides the point. After all he’s seen, the blood on his hands, and much more, he’s realized he’d do anything for that laugh. So he “swears” as much as he can around you, his Synthesia Beacon somehow slipping in new words. Where the hell did ‘banana’ come from…?

⎯ Gallagher

One of GALLAGHER’s favorite things to do when he gets home is cuddle. He’s busy as is, and some time to decompress with his lover always sounds like heaven. Oftentimes, he’ll drag you to the bed or the couch, even when you’re in the middle of something. He loves to bury his face into your shoulder. And moreso, he loves the way you giggle when his stubble tickles your neck. When you squirm and try to break free, he only tightens his hold, pulling you up against his chest as you laugh and swat at him, telling him to stop. He doesn’t. He’ll poke at your sides and squeeze at your hips as well, anything to keep you laughing.

⎯ Sunday

SUNDAY is so sickeningly sweet when it comes to you. His affections aren’t subtle, bringing you a bouquet of flowers when you’re at work, taking you out on fancy dates, and so much more. He is a textbook romantic. No act of love is little from him, he makes sure not to skip out. He wants you to know just how much he loves you, grand gesture or not. However, one thing you have noticed is the way his wings flutter just a little when he sees you, or hears you. A light blush always dusts his cheeks, followed by a smile and a tilt of his head. When you visit him while he’s working, his wings flutter just a little bit longer. You aren’t sure if he is aware of this, but you don’t want him to stop, so you decide to keep it a secret.

⎯ Argenti

Oh, ARGENTI, sweet Argenti. He’s so… princely, when it comes to you. Such a gentleman, really. He follows the sidewalk rule almost religiously, places his hand on the small of your back when the two of you are walking, grabs your hand so tenderly and kneels in front of you to kiss it, everything and anything that can come out of a fairy tale. One of his favorite things to do, however, is letting you do his hair. While he quite likes letting his long hair down, he loves nothing more than your hands running through it. He allows everything short of cutting it. In fact, he loves it so much, he practically runs to you before he trains, so you can put his hair up in a ponytail. If you want to braid it, however, he won’t mind. As long as you don’t yank his hair.

⎯ Mr. Reca

MR. RECA is all for the theatrics, on and off the set. Sometimes, it feels like he can’t turn off his whole director persona, even with you. Not that you mind. While he’s packed full of movie and media references, some that barely make him sound coherent, there are moments where he’s a completely Normal Guy with you. Sometimes it makes you think he’s lost his mind. However, one of your favorite things that prove he wasn’t abducted is when he acts like your life is a movie. He’ll bring his hands up and frame your face with his fingers, ramble on about how the main actor is just ‘too perfect for this role’, and how you're ‘born for the screen, born for my heart!’. He’ll add some sort of dramatic flare, clutching his chest or pretending he’ll pass out. While Memokeeper’s are quite odd, you don’t think you’d give up this one for the world.

⎯Sampo Koski

Whatever you need, SAMPO has. He even established this before the start of the relationship. He’s like… a penguin. While him showering you in luxurious gifts is not uncommon, it’s truly the smaller ones that count. Random trinkets he found somewhere, most were a little dusty and dirty, but ones that had provoked the thought of you, making them so meaningful. He presents all sorts of things to you, really. Rings he just ‘happened’ to find, necklaces and bracelets too, gears that were in such very oddly pristine condition, and his favorite: shells and rocks. He really does live up to the actions of a penguin, finding the prettiest rocks he can to give to his lover. Perhaps he is proposing…? It’s hard to say.

⎯ Jing Yuan

As the Divine Foresight, JING YUAN doesn’t get as much time as he’d like to enjoy the little things with you. A stroll once in a while is nice, or perhaps sitting down for at least ten minutes and chatting will do. He’s a simple man, and seeing your face for a fraction of a second is enough to tide him over for the next month. At least, that’s what he says. When he does get to spend time with you, he has a habit of bumping into you ‘accidentally’. He leans in close whenever you’re inspecting the fruit at the market, tends to bump into the two of you when you’re just walking, and actually prefers sitting on the same side of the table most of the time. All to enjoy those brief moments of contact. You’ve told him countless times that he could just ask to hold your hand, and he does, but somehow he always finds a way to come impossibly closer…

⎯ Blade

There’s not much BLADE does that isn’t small. He’s not necessarily vocal about his love for you (however he does love you, very much), nor is he good at expressing it. You’ve learned to translate the little things into big things, even something as simple as an ‘i thought of you’ when he comes back from a mission is a big deal. There’s one thing you’ve noticed that you’ve gotten to hold over the other Stellaron Hunters, though. He hates shopping, unless it’s with you. With Kafka and Firefly, he groans and acts uninterested most of the time, but with you, he’s quiet. Perfectly content to hold your bags, no matter how much things you have bought. No complaining, not even a grimace. Don’t point it out though. He’ll start pitching a fit if you so much as suggest that he loves you. (He does. But it’s hard to say or express for a man like him.)

⎯ Luocha

LUOCHA’s good with physical contact. With his profession and secrecy, sometimes it’s hard for you to remember that. He’s often gone for so long, doing Aeons knows what, that you tend to miss him, and especially his physical affections. Somehow, he’s also terrifyingly good at coming back just when you start to miss him too much. By then, you are craving a warm hug from him by the very least. But he always does more. He treats you, a nice date, either a day out or a day inside, before he’s off again. Somehow, his hands always find your hair, playing with it absentmindedly. You could be on the verge of sleep, and here he is, twirling a strand of your hair around his fingers idly. Running his fingers through it, scratching your scalp, the list goes on. You start to wonder if it’s you he missed, or your hair.

⎯ Jiaoqiu

Now, JIAOQIU doesn’t like feeling helpless. Just because he’s blind doesn’t mean anything, he’s still a great healer, and an even better cook. Before he lost his sight, he’d cook terrifyingly grand meals for you, practically a whole feast for twelve. And if you can’t handle spice? You’re the only one he would turn down the heat for. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t let you off the hook. No, he chose to build your spice tolerance, instead. Adding more and more to each meal, even if you struggled with it. Now, without his sight, he’s only a little more hesitant to cook. He’s gotten all sorts of aids that help, of course. But knives are still knives, and he can be as careful as he wants, but they’ve somehow made him just a little antsy. So, he likes to guide you through chopping vegetables and the like. It doesn’t matter if you can do it by yourself, he likes to stand behind you as he ‘guides’ your wrists, smiling and snickering all the while.

⎯ Moze

It comes to no surprise that what MOZE enjoys best is cleaning. With you, he’s amped it up a little. When he can, he likes to do all the chores he possibly can before you get home. It’s something you’re used to, but even if you tell him you’d like to have a few to do, he acts like he takes it to mind. Really, he’s just telling himself he’ll have to do more. Days off aren’t exactly existent for him, but if he’s not keeping his hands busy, he gets anxious. So he’s resorted to making your life easier, sweeping the house, cleaning the dishes, doing laundry, and much more. You can’t argue, because who wants to do chores, anyways?

⎯ Dan Heng

While DAN HENG can be quite romantic, that doesn’t stop him from being what he is, an introvert. Some of his best days are spent holed up in his room on the Express, kicking back and ignoring what he can, unless it’s urgent. A nice quiet day and some tea are his true peace. And you, of course. He likes spending those quiet moments with you, especially when the two of you are just… doing your own thing. He could be reading, and you could be playing a game on your phone or watching something right next to him. He has no qualms if you aren’t doing something together, as long as you’re right next to him. ‘Parallel play’, he’s heard March call it. It fits, truly.

⎯ Gepard

GEPARD is truly a gentleman. He almost fits the Golden Retriever standard to a T. Kind and gentle, protective yet oh so sweet, almost knightly. While his work hours hold him hostage most of the time, he cherishes the time he gets to spend with you. Even when he’s tired and worn out, he simply can’t say no to a date. He’s the definition of royalty treatment. Holding your jacket, helping you zip up your clothes when need be, following the sidewalk rule, switching out your shoes if they’re uncomfortable, opening doors, and making sure your chair is pulled out before he sits down. No gesture of love is too small for him, or at least, he makes sure the small ones culminate into something bigger.

⎯ Caelus

To be honest, you still really can’t get CAELUS, even as his partner. He’s a bit quirky, maybe a tad too adventurous (stay out of those trash cans, you beg of him. But he does not listen), and perhaps way too into it for the bit. But that doesn’t mean you don’t love him. He’s silly and goofy and quite profound when he’s in the mood, although with his own sort of charm. Massive bouquets, massive credit bouquets, oddly cliche dates, and the like. But his most defining moments are the smaller, almost mundane ones. Sitting in the parlor car, laying on his belly and kicking his feet while you go through his nail polish collection, picking out what colors you want him to wear. He’s oddly… sparkly, grinning ear to ear as he holds his fingers out, waiting oh so patiently for you to color them. Paint his nails like one of your french girls… or something.

⎯ Welt

Unfortunately, while WELT is sweet, his habits can be a little bit annoying. For the first month or so when you started sleeping in his bed, his snoring almost drove you crazy. Perhaps you should’ve expected this for a man his age, but at the same time you can’t help but scold him in your mind. Fortunately, it is something that you get used to, and even see as white noise. You could complain all you want, and he’d apologize profusely, figure out any sort of way to at the very least quiet himself during the night, and then apologize some more. Not only does he snore, but he moves a lot in his sleep. He likes to fall asleep holding you… however throughout the night, he gets too hot, which means he pulls away, then it’s too cold, so he’s rolling back over to you, then he can’t quite find a comfortable way to sleep… it’s never ending. And charming, kind of.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | discord server (16+) | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[yogurtkags]

❝ HUSH ❞ — sakusa kiyoomi

cw. f!reader, fluff, olympics au, athletic trainer!reader, timeskip characters, established relationship, secret marriage, language (omi swears like once), not beta read (sorry!) word count. ~ 1.6k

“japan’s outside hitter sakusa kiyoomi and newly revealed wife, athletic trainer y/n l/n, steals the spotlight in the city of love!”

@tetzoro's summer olympics collab

your eyes glance in his direction, letting it linger on his figure as the team settles down into their corner. he’s a little tense, understandably so– it’s his first time at the olympics, and with the pressure of the finals sitting on his shoulders, the nerves are showing, though carefully hidden behind his standard resting face that you can see through so well. the lights hanging along the ceilings of the south paris arena cast a tasteful warm glow along the contours of his face. despite the subconscious clenched jaw and slightly downturned lips that make you want to kiss the frown off so badly, there’s a shine in his eyes like no other.

the last few days have been pretty rough, of stiff beds, subpar food and sleeping without kiyoomi. you know he feels the same if the progressively increasing frequency of late night calls and texts are any indication. with the boys sharing rooms in twos amongst themselves and the rest of the team’s staff being housed in a separate wing of the building, falling asleep in his arms was a faraway thought since you arrived at the olympic village.

loml ♡ : miya snores so fuckin’ loudly i can’t handle this me : well it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve dealt with it baby loml ♡ : i still think we should’ve fought harder for us sharing a room

he drifts off into slumber easily after washing up and getting his fill of talking to you (never enough), the mental and physical fatigue of matches and practices in between taking a toll on his body, but for you, being wrapped in his warm embrace was the perfect recipe and vital to a good night's sleep. it’s safe to say that you haven’t been sleeping well for the past week.

it didn’t help that being sworn to secrecy about your relationship also meant that any interactions you had with him outside being the team’s athletic trainer was like treading on eggshells. it feels like you’re in high school again, sitting next to him in the dining hall during meal times with your clasped hands hidden under the table from watchful eyes, his thumb rubbing soft circles against the back of your hand or squeezing ever so often, as if to affirm his presence and silently reassure that i’m here.

it seems to be a trend lately for athletes to be active on their social media platforms, be it their team’s or just a personal account, recounting stories or even taking avid viewers through “a day in the life of an olympic athlete” — without looking too far, even miya jumped on the bandwagon, often seeing suna running around filming short clips of their shenanigans in free pockets of time during the day. you and kiyoomi talked about it before the season began, keeping any non-professional interactions to a minimum. there’s eyes everywhere and it’s better to be safe than sorry.

both of you are very private people, it was only natural that you preferred to keep your personal life and matters to yourselves behind closed doors. this ended up being a double-edged sword, because everyone wants to be all up in your business, especially kiyoomi who finds himself in the spotlight more often, being apart of the “young handsome eligible bachelors” of the MSBY 4 and now one of the most sought-after new additions to japan’s national team.

you on the other hand, were better known by twitter as “the pretty trainer” from the shweiden adlers and now the national team, standing next to another fan-favourite, iwaizumi hajime. thankfully your role is kept more so behind the scenes, checking on the players during games and making sure they remain in tip-top shape on and off the court.

being the quiet and brooding one amongst outgoing chatterboxes meant that the media would try to dig any information out of kiyoomi, but prying interviewers and prodding questions towards him and his love life were smoothly deflected and brushed aside, the boys even coming to his defense if anyone got too pushy with it, which you were beyond thankful for. not that they needed to most of the time, he’s known to be curt with his responses and quick to bring the topic back to the game, and no one likes a snappy sakusa anyway, many have learned this the hard way.

just months prior to the both of you getting called in to begin training for the olympics and before schedules start to pick up, you had a small private wedding in your hometown with just close friends and family, the ceremony kept under lock and key and tucked away from the public eye. it made it all the more intimate, more like a quiet gathering to celebrate your union than a grand spectacle, which suited you perfectly. the honeymoon hasn’t happened yet with the timing of everything, you’re saving it for post-season when you both can finally take a break and relax for a little while.

you won’t deny that there are some days where you wished that things were different, and that you could openly express your love for each other without scrutiny and attention being on you, but alas, that is to be expected as someone exposed to the public eye.

the olympics is your first public appearance as married individuals, not that anyone particularly cares about your status, their eyes instead zeroing in on kiyoomi and the chain around his neck carrying a shiny new silver band. it's safe to say that judging by the scowl on his face and the chatter buzzing around the front rows of stands as the team settles into their side of the court, his “mystery wife" is the new talk of the town.

when he comes over to you during timeout, his eyes meet yours bashfully as you hand him a bottle, fingers brushing against yours in an unspoken apology. you just smile and lightly pat his back as he turns to join the team huddle. there’s nothing to be sorry for, silly.

these little moments mean everything to you, even though it looks like nothing in the grand scheme of things. just being there with him and coming together with a shared passion even if it's in different fields of the broader spectrum of sport, fills you with a sense of happiness and content. watching him in his element and being able to support him on the sidelines through it all, you'd never trade that for the world.

and as you’re sitting at the edge of your seat with your bum hanging on for dear life, you lean forward with your hands pressed together, the top of your index fingers resting against the tip of your nose like a pseudo prayer. match point.

it feels like you’re watching the longest rally of your life and like a bad habit, your knee begins bouncing up and down in your nervousness and anticipation. iwaizumi too, is so engrossed in the play at hand that he doesn’t notice, or maybe he just doesn’t care enough in this moment to stop you with his usual slap to your thigh and a chiding comment, “stop it, even my grandma back in sendai can feel the tremours from your goddamn knees.”

with bated breath, you watch kageyama tosses one beautiful arc of a set to kiyoomi as he leaps into the air and makes contact with the ball.

with a powerful spike, he is a force to be reckoned with, sending the ball home as the opponents dive to save it, their arms hands and fingers stretching out in a last ditch attempt to connect and rescue the point, but to no avail. the ball lands with a harsh thud and as he stands tall above their groveling, the whistle blows and the crowds roar.

your arms instinctively raise in a cheer, and in the next moment they’re closed over your mouth, tears pricking your eyes as you stumble over your feet and scramble to get up. as the team rushes towards him with shouts of celebration, his eyes immediately dart in your direction, softening as he sees you dashing over. with knowing smirks and crescent moons for eyes, the boys follow his line of sight and give him firm slaps on the back, parting the hoard for you and giving just enough room for him to uncharacteristically swoop you up in his arms and crash his lips into yours, all caution thrown to the wind.

all the noise halts and time stands still, everything fades away and nothing else in the world matters in the moment, not the people, not the cameras, just the overwhelming rush of joy and pride, and love, oh love, swelling from the depths of your chest and your heart bursting at its seams.

your senses flood with everything kiyoomi, from the way the sweaty strands of his hair at the back of his neck feel on your fingertips, his cheeks dampening from your tears, the nudge of his nose against yours, and the press of his smile on your locked lips. he breathes out and you breathe him in, letting all of his being rest in the room in your heart saved specially for him, seeping into every corner of your soul.

when you inevitably pull apart for air, the current predicament doesn't exactly click in your mind just yet until he grabs your hand and pulls you into his side, shielding you from the onslaught of reporters and press looking to get a fresh scoop on the hottest piece of news. with blown out eyes, you look at him in a daze and disbelief, did that really just happen?

the smug smirk on his face says it all.

the matching silver bands on your finger and hanging around his neck, it was always there. for the longest time it was your little secret, and now a declaration of love and devotion — not even a shiny new gold medal could compare.

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.

[pellucid-constellations]

Of Oblivious Minds (2)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst!! More pining and yearning

a/n: Here is part two! I love writing this little series :) There will definitely be more! let me know what you think ♡♡

Part 1, Part 3

~~

Sometimes you hated being a scholar. 

There were plenty of upsides to having such a cushy job, especially when your employer was the high lord himself. You got paid generously, got free access to the best libraries, and never had to pay rent. Millions of fae would kill to have your position. 

But as Cassian punched you in the ribs—for the third time—you found yourself questioning your role within the night court’s inner circle.

“Okay,” you breathed out, hunching over with a hand cradling your side. “Okay, please, Cass. Can we take a break?” 

Unfortunately, Cassian didn’t appreciate quitters. So, your feet were abruptly swept from under you and your back made contact with the floor. With a soft oof, the wind was knocked from your lungs. 

“C’mon, y/n, you’re better than that. I know you are.” 

You responded with a wheeze, blinking into the pale sun. 

This morning had been rough.

You’d been having some trouble sleeping, but that wasn’t necessarily unusual. Being alive for so long meant you had seen quite a few things, so nightmares came and went with the tide. You were going through a rough patch with them at the moment, and the lack of sleep was starting to catch up with you.

“You planning on laying there for the rest of the day?” Cassian asked, his large silhouette coming to block the light. 

You squinted up at him. “Maybe.” 

“Yeah, not happening.” 

You fought back a whine as the Illyrian pulled you up by your shoulders and steadied you. He nodded, giving you a moment to ready yourself back into position, and then bent his knees. Gods, you were going to be so sore later. 

It didn’t take long for you to end up on the floor again, this time on your stomach. Your chin cracked against the padded ring, your teeth snapping together at the impact. The sound made your brain vibrate as you rolled onto your side and held your temple. 

Cassian crouched down to the floor beside you and you could make out his worried brow amidst the shakiness of your vision. 

“What’s going on with you?” He brought his hand up to brush against your already bruising jaw. “We’ve been working on that move for weeks. You had it a few days ago.” 

You breathed through your nose and tried not to groan at the ache rolling through your body. “I think I’m just tired. I haven’t been sleeping very well.” 

At that, Cassian plopped down to a seat, keeping a hand at your elbow as you brought your own body up to mirror his. 

“You want to talk about it?” he questioned. 

“There isn’t much to say. I can’t remember them this time. It’s kind of strange—usually I remember them too much and that’s what makes it worse.” 

Cassian hummed in contemplation. He was always the one you went to the morning after a sleepless night. Cassian would listen as you talked through your nightmares, and you would do the same for him. He was a logical pillar in your life. 

But it was always Azriel you went to in the midst of them. You never talked about what you saw and he never asked. But it was always Azriel in the middle of the night. His shadows were a comfort in the pitch black and he was always quick to wrap his wings around you when it became too hard to breathe. 

You hadn’t gone to him these last few times.

The fact that you couldn’t remember your dreams was an unfortunate factor. Because if you knew what was causing you to wake up in a cold sweat every night, at least then you could talk about it. Or take a moment to rationalize. 

There was no rationalizing when the only thing you had to go off of was fear and hurt. 

“What does Azriel think?” Cassian asked after a small lapse in silence.

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, when you go to his room at night. What does he have to say about you not remembering?” 

You scoffed. And then scoffed again. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about, I barely do that.” 

Cassian stared at you with a blank expression. “So we’re still doing that then. Got it.” He heaved himself up from the ground and then yanked you up alongside him.

“Still doing what?” you asked, trailing behind him as he reached for his canteen. He didn’t answer you, favoring the long gulps of water he was taking. You waited for him to finish and then asked again. He chose to unwrap his knuckles instead. “Cassian.” 

The man sighed. “Nothing, y/n. It’s just… It wasn’t a secret that you would go to his room after you had a rough night. Why do you think I never dragged you out here those mornings?” You cringed at his words. He shook his head. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Why do you hide it?” 

You didn’t have a good reason—well, you didn’t used to. You’d always sneak out of his room after the sun rose and never bring it up again. And there was never a solid explanation for why you evaded the topic. You knew Azriel would never hold it against you and you weren’t embarrassed for others to know that you sought out comfort in a friend. It just seemed like something you should keep to yourself. 

Now, though—now there was a good reason to wipe your actions from memory. To pretend they never happened and to never repeat them. 

“Cassian, Elain is my friend. Even if I did that in the past—in a friendly way—it would be wrong now.” 

A muscle in Cassian’s jaw twitched. “Right. Have you ever actually talked to Elain about her feelings?” 

“I don’t need to.” You reached down for your own water, ignoring the twinge in your side and the pulsing in your head. “She never stops talking about him. And they’re always together. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were already seeing each other.” 

“Who’s seeing each other?” 

The cool tone of Azriel’s voice washed over you and you whipped around to find him standing at the foot of the training ring, blades in hand. 

A nervous laugh fell from your lips and you fought the urge to slap your hand over your mouth. “Um, no one, just some friends I know.” 

“Who?” he asked again. 

“Oh, you don’t know them. Old friends.” 

The Shadowsinger raised a brow, sending Cassian a fleeting look. “I thought I knew all of your friends.” 

“You don’t. I know way more people than you. Even though you're older than me. Not by that much, though. Have you talked to Elain lately?” Words were spewing from your mouth in the worst combinations. You were never nervous around Azriel. What in the cauldron was wrong with you?

Azriel’s raised brow turned into a furrowed one and he blinked, assessing your face with a scrutinizing gaze. “Do you have a concussion?” He turned the Cassian, expression going from confused to provoked. “Did you give her a concussion?” 

“Honestly, maybe.” 

“I don’t have a concussion,” you rushed out, cutting off Cassian’s admission. “I was just leaving though. I’m tired. You guys can fight each other.” 

There was so much sudden pent-up energy inside of you that you had no intention of sleeping, but just seeing Azriel made you feel like you were intruding on something. Which was absurd. Azriel was your friend and had been your friend for centuries. Just because he loved Elain didn’t mean you had to avoid him. 

But this energy had to come from somewhere, and that somewhere was telling you to avoid him like the Illyrian flu. 

Making a break for it, you freed yourself from the training ring and attempted to skate past Azriel with a quick side smile, but he apparently had other plans. He caught your wrist as you walked past, glancing up at a “preoccupied” Cassian before turning to you with his wing out, giving the illusion of a private conversation. 

“You’re not sleeping well?” he asked, voice low. 

You warped your smile into one that met both sides of your mouth. “I’m okay.” 

Shadows crept over his shoulders and along his ears. His expression shifted and pinched and then returned neutral. “You know you can come to me if you need it.” 

“I’m okay, Az. Really.” 

“Would you tell me if you weren’t?”

Maybe before. 

“I’m a paper pusher, Az. I’m not out in the throes of battle,” you jested, scrunching your nose as you smiled up at him. “Nothing is that serious for me.” 

A lie. Something was that serious—serious enough to keep you up at night for the past week—but you couldn’t figure out what it was. 

“That is not what I asked,” he countered, sliding his hand up from your wrist to turn your chin. “You need to ice your jaw. Cassian shouldn’t be so rough with you.” 

“I’m okay,” you said again, words a pathetic repetition because your heart was beating so fast now and you needed to leave. Something was pulling at your chest and you needed to leave. 

“As you’ve said,” Azriel muttered, his fingers brushing down along the column of your throat. When his eyes flickered up and met your own, something inside of you lost its alignment.

You looked away before the feeling could return. Everything righted itself. You took a wobbly step back. 

“Have a good training session.” 

You turned on your heel and stalked away, feeling equal parts the betrayer and the betrayed. 

~~

“You mean that girl off-continent? The one from a century ago?” 

Cassian hummed. “Yeah, her. What I wouldn’t give for a visit from her.” 

“You’re a pig,” Mor replied, a scoff sharp on her lips.

“She didn’t think so.” 

You were eavesdropping. You didn’t like to, but somehow, in the time you’d spent in the inner circle, you’d picked up the habit. Oops.

Technically, you weren’t really eavesdropping. You had been in the room first. It wasn’t your fault Cassian and Mor decided to speak very loudly with only a few shelves separating you. If they wanted privacy they should have checked the area. 

“Is it that hard for you to get laid? You have to search off-continent?” 

Cassian’s responding laugh was almost defensive. “I’m sure you’d love to know about my sex life.” 

“I really wouldn’t, actually. You brought it up.” Mor paused. You heard her shift on the lounge chair. “I am, however, interested in Azriel’s.” 

“Aren’t we all,” Cassian droned. “Pretty obvious that he doesn't have one at the moment. Hasn’t had one in a while.” 

You felt your neck jolt at the reveal of that information. Azriel always kept his partners discrete, but you’d always known he’d had them. Many of them. You had no idea who they were or where he met them, but you would hear the girls occasionally... smell their perfume on a few rare nights. 

“You think? This whole time?” Mor asked, curiosity raising her voice an octave. 

“Mor, I think the sight of other females makes him want to vomit.” 

The book in your lap was all but obsolete. 

“Don’t be so dramatic.” 

Cassian tsked. “I’m not. He’s told me.” 

“I suppose that’s what having a mate does to a person.” 

Your fingers became abnormally cold, the center of your chest caving slightly.

Azriel had a mate? No, he would have told you.

He would have told you. 

Mor’s sweet voice slammed against your ears, harsh despite its nature. “Do you think he’ll tell her soon?” 

Cassian’s reply had you standing on shaking knees. “Hope so. He’s so in love with her it's suffocating. You should see when—” 

You were out of the room in a wisp, sliding out the small back door. The book you’d been reading was still clutched in your frozen grip and you held it against your chest as breathing became impossible. With a hand pressed to the wall and your head hung low, you sucked in air, greedy for some type of reprieve. 

You were happy for him. You were so, so happy for him. 

Right? 

The book fell from your grip, clattering to the floor. The pages collapsed in on themselves as it fell face down, and you listened to the paper crumple as your throat closed. Both hands now pressed to the cold wall. Why were you freezing? 

This made sense. It made sense. 

Of course Azriel had a mate and of course it was… Elain? 

No, it couldn’t be Elain. Elain was Lucien’s mate. 

Now you were confused as well as consumed. Your body was left aching from training and your mind was in a frenzy and you couldn’t even understand why you were reacting the way you were. 

It was completely plausible that Azriel had a mate and didn’t tell anyone about it. He was a private male who kept his lovers to himself, so of course he would keep his mate to himself as well. But he did tell someone about it. He told Cassian. And Mor knew. 

Your fingernails dug into stone.

Azriel didn’t love you. 

The thought came on so suddenly that you almost looked over your shoulder. It was as if the words had been whispered in your ear by some cruel, vicious wind. 

You had never cared if Azriel loved you before, because you knew that he did love you. Like a sister. You were Azriel’s family and he was yours. 

But as the thought of Azriel having a mate invaded your mind once more, your shaky legs propelled you forward, running from the creased book and the hallway that contained all of the worst things. 

You ran until you couldn't, until your toes hit the edge of the balcony on the far side of the house and the cool air of winter hit your cheeks. You had been so cold inside, but somehow the breeze felt even colder across your skin. 

“Y/n?” 

You gasped, whipping around and gripping the railing as it pressed into your spine. You couldn’t formulate words as Azriel stood before you. His hands raised up to his waist, reaching for you as he took in the way your chest heaved.

“What’s happened? What’s wrong?” he rushed. 

You only shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut. Embarrassment and confusion and a twisted sort of fear coursed through you. You couldn't look at him, afraid you would somehow see the bond connected to his chest—somehow notice things about him you hadn’t before. Maybe another shade of hazel in his eyes or a softness to his lips that you had never looked for. 

As you considered it now, it was obvious that you’d never let yourself look. 

Azriel was never supposed to be yours. 

“Talk to me, angel.” Azriel’s sweet whisper brushed against your skin. He was so close to you. You could feel him, but you refused to look. 

To see how everything had changed. 

“Let me fix it.” 

You heard the rush of wind from his wings as he expanded them outwards, followed closely behind by the whirling of his shadows, and it all clicked then. 

The images came quickly, dissipating just as fast. But they did their job, sending heavy, hot tears past the tight scrunch of your eyelids. 

Azriel with Elain. Azriel with Mor. Azriel with random, faceless women.

Him, in every iteration, with everyone that wasn’t you. 

That’s what had kept you up—the dreams plaguing your every resting moment. And you realized then that nothing had really changed at all. That you’d been in love with Azriel for longer than you’d been in love with anything. 

Your jaw trembled, your body rejecting the anguish that swept through you. Wind softly flowed from the west, swaying your skirts with a gentleness that made your breath shudder. That kind of gentleness was impossible. The world felt so cruel. 

“Y/n, tell me what happened. Should I get someone else?” Azriel pleaded. “Should I get Rhys?” 

Rhys could knock you out, and that would surely be a relief. You felt paralyzed by this overwhelming array of devastation. But Rhys would also have access to your thoughts. 

You shook your head. “No,” you said, but the word was lost in the wind. Azriel seemed to hear it anyway. “No, I want—I need to—go to sleep.” 

“You need to go to sleep?” He touched you now, something he seemed to have been avoiding. His hands came to rest behind your neck, thumbs at your jaw, and you pried your eyes open at the contact. You’d never seen the shadowsinger look so ruined, his hair askew, his eyes wild and panicked. “That doesn’t make any sense.” 

His expression was beseeching you for something you couldn’t give him. You hiccuped your next words out. 

“I’m—’m tired.” 

You wished you’d stayed oblivious. That you had never become privy to the depth of your feelings. 

This pain was immeasurable.

[quarterlifekitty]

König and Domestic Silk Moth Hybrid!Reader

Due to popular demand (about 4 people)

Context: in this one, I’m having König stay human and having hybrids in a pet role. As an insect hybrid, I’m making her small AF (like 2-3 ft tall). I did consider making her Barbie sized tho 👀. So this is gonna have size kink bordering on micro/macro just so you know!

König is stuck on medical leave, and pretty damned miserable. He sustained a break that’s put him out of commission for a while. He’s never spent so long in his empty home, and it’s driving him insane. He’s spent basically his entire adult life married to his work, so he’s woefully unprepared to keep himself entertained.

And despite being something of a loner most times, he misses the noise. He misses the bodies and conversation. He and Horangi have a phone call every so often, and text as frequently as the work allows, but that only takes up so much time in the day.

And it’s Horangi that suggests a hybrid.

That’s something that he could throw himself into to keep occupied, as well as giving company. And unlike a pet, a hybrid would be able to be mostly self sufficient whenever he returned to work.

(Horangi doesn’t want to say if he returns. But König is not a young man, and has sustained a serious injury. There’s a chance that even if he heals, he won’t be the same as before. Combined with his rank, it won’t be huge surprise if he’s pressured or forced into retirement if his utility is limited.)

König is apprehensive— so he doesn’t want something quite as needy as a cat or dog hybrid, where he’d have to deal with heats and noise. And Horangi happens to have an old friend, retired, who raises domestic silk moth hybrids with his newfound free time. You’re picked to be offered up, freshly cut from your thick silk cocoon.

And for König, it’s love at first sight.

You’re very pretty. Fluffy white fur, big, dark, eyes. And so small. You barely come up to his hip, and raise your arms, asking to be lifted. It’s only then that he learns domesticated silk moths are flightless, their wings are pretty but unable to fly. It makes him feel a little bit of kinship with you. Restricted movement, denied purpose.

And basically his life revolves around you from that point. König doesn’t have many involved or expensive hobbies, so he has a lot of time and resources to devote to your care. You’re something of a niche pet, so it’s a little difficult to find things made for you. He resorts to commissions. Don’t fucking look at his Etsy purchase history.

You live your life perched on his shoulders or in his arms (you’re much too small to keep up with him). He’s a little afraid of letting you in his bed at night, he doesn’t want to roll over and crush you by accident, but you keep crawling under his covers anyways. You can’t help having cocooning behavior.

He’s constantly sitting you on ledges. On the sink while he shaves, on the counter when he cooks, on his desk when he works. You’ve always gotta be within arms reach for petting purposes.

And the petting, the kissing… he’s so addicted to the contact. He’s been alone for so long, and you’re so soft.

And that just leads to him getting more and more curious about your body. You don’t mind— you love him! And he loves his little Seidenmotte.

He’s beyond delicate with you. You’re so small— he has to work you up quite a bit before he can even fit a finger into your cute little pussy.

God it makes him hard how he can pin you down by the stomach with just one hand. And you make these little pips and squeaks when he fingers you— it’s just too cute for words. He totally shares some pictures with Horangi as thanks. (Which might lead to a couple of other colorful character asking to see pictures of you).

Usually he fucks your soft, fuzzy thighs to get off. He’s so warm and heavy against your clit, his cockhead practically reaching your chest. He paints your tits with white, pearly ribbons that glisten against the fuzz of your chest.

If you’re on top, he likes watching your useless wings beat while you slide your wet little cunt over him, the ridge of his head making you shiver when it bumps against your clit. You usually end up making yourself cum once or twice, and when you’re too tired and sensitive to move yourself he’ll grab your waist and grind you against him, using you like a toy to get himself off.

You don’t spread your wings often, but when you do, it leaves a little bit of moth dust behind from the tiny scales you shed. König thinks it’s so cute to see it against his bedsheets— it’s like glittery fresh snow, proof of how excited he made you.

[jasmines-library]

Hey, I love your Batfam work! Is there any chance you could do a whump/angst one of batsis being kidnapped by a villian(you can choose whoever you want) and she’s tortured for days with it being broadcasted to the Batfam while they try to track the footage. I feel kinda bad but can you do maybe some head trauma md severe burns? Maybe she has to be put in a medically included coma or smth because of the damage? Also is there any way you could include Barb and Duke along w/ the four robins? If not that’s totally cool! Sorry for the long request but I hope you have a great day!!

Anonymous Requested: batfam x batsib reader whos the youngest and newest robin and is just really goofy and doesn’t take anything seriously (ex: them blaring “who’s the (bat)man” on the comms during patrol [that songs stuck in my head i had to mention it]) and something happens, maybe their first close encounter to death or a run in with the joker and they just become a shell of who they were and stuff

Jokes On Me

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Note: My god im so sorry this literally took me forever to write, thank you so much for being patient. I've been trying to write this all week but just couldn't sit down for long enough to finish it.

Warnings: Torture, blood, burns.

Word Count: 2.5k

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

“Y/N, turn that shit off.”

Jason grumbled at you over the coms. You had been blasting some wretched song that you’d found on the internet over and over again and it was beginning to drive him mad. 

“Nope.” You said, popping the ‘p’ loudly. 

“Seriously.” Dick deadpanned. He had found it amusing at first, but it was now beginning to test his patience. 

Agitated, you sighed and turned off the music. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” Jason expressed gratefully, turning his eyes back to the road he was patrolling. The night was cool and quiet besides the odd dog walker or couple returning from an evening out. It was one of those nights where patrol would end early and he could return home to take a warm bath and read a book before turning in for the night. Or so he thought. 

You were rounding the corner, humming that tune that was still stuck in your head when his laughter ricocheted across the walls. You stiffened, eyes widening and hands fumbling for your weapon as your breath hitched. No amount of turning and craning your head allowed you to catch a glimpse of the dreaded figure, and you thought for a moment that perhaps it had just been a trick of your mind, or one of your brothers playing a cruel joke on you as payback for winding them up earlier. But then you heard it again, only this time to your left. You clutched your weapon tighter, eyes scanning the area with a new found sense of urgency. 

“Wing…” You whispered into the coms so quietly that you were surprised he heard it.

“What now?” He somewhat snapped. 

“We have a problem.”

Dick’s heart sank through the floor, his ears pricking up and his demeanour changing completely. “Where are you? What’s the matter? He was trying to let his panic show, but you hadn’t been patrolling as a vigilante for very long, and while you were well trained, you lacked the experience to deal with something big on your own. And from your tone of voice, he could tell that you were in some deep shit. 

Jason worked his legs harder to push himself to reach the direction he had seen you head off in. Albeit it seemed even his hardest wasn’t enough.

When he stepped out of the darkness, the first thing you noticed were his eyes. Wide and bright, easily mistakable for a cat’s as they flashed in the darkness; wild. Rabid. As he emerged fully with that infamous twisted grin splayed out on his face, you felt like a cornered animal; a deer in headlights. You froze, unable to move despite how your heart screamed at you to run as it pounded, trying to break free from your ribcage. 

“He’s here…” A mere whisper sliding over your tongue, so fragile that you weren’t even sure if you had actually said it aloud. Jason had heard it. 

“Who?” 

The Joker was circling you now, dragging out his strides in lazy circles. You should have fought but in that moment all of your training had drained out of you, along with the colour in your face. He smirked, leering down upon you as you tried to keep your trembling hand still. He pouted in mockery and at your silence, Jason repeated his question to you, but you never got the chance to respond. 

“Oh…Just an old friend, Jay-bird.”

“Joker.” Urging his body to move faster, Jason grit his teeth. 

Dick paled. “You leave them alone.” Dick spat. It tried to be a command, but the effect was lost somewhere in transmission.

The joker pursed his lips, tilting his head as he analysed. One of his hands had found his way to your jawline and he trailed it with a cold, gloved hand. You wanted to lean away, to run and find your brother but you knew that now he had you in his grasp there was no point in even trying. “And why would I do that? They’re right in front of me. I could just…snatch them up.”

“Don’t you dare!” Dick was frightened now. “Y/N, you stay there as long as you can, okay? You fight. We’re coming, you hear?”

The Joker frowned at you. “D’you hear that? Big brother birdy coming to the rescue. How sweet.”

His grip on you tightened. “Too bad you’ll be long gone by the time they get here.”

With one swift motion, he had thrown you harshly to the side, your head colliding with the wall with a sickening crack. 

The two boys skidded to a halt just a second too late. You were already gone. 

~

Your head hurt when you woke up. Your eyes squinted against the sterile light. They did no favours to your pounding headache. With a groan, you tried to twist, to roll over and soothe the crook in your neck but instead all that happened was the jinging of a metal chain. You craned your head and spotted the thick chain that had been wrapped around your wrist, confining you to the chair. Struggling, you tugged on them, trying to free yourself only for them to rattle and scrape against your skin. 

“Yeah, that’s not going anywhere, birdy.” The joker chided.

You glared at him through narrowed eyes, trying to mask the thumping of your heart. The joker grinned wildly at your frightened complexion. 

“It was such a shame that Grayson and Todd didn’t get to you in time, but it was far too easy to catch you, little bird: you completely froze.” He snapped his fingers to emphasise his point. “Didn’t batsy teach you better?”

“Don’t talk about them.” You snapped. 

The joker raised his hands, palms facing toward you in surrender: taunting you as if you were the one with the power in the situation. “Touchy subject I see. Too bad.” 

He gestured above you to an incessantly blinking light. “Smile for the camera, you’re live.”

~

Babs had been monitoring the street cameras when the computer beside her flickered to life. She had been searching for any sign of you ever since Dick and Jason came flying through the grandfather clock. Everyone was on edge. 

The moment the screen flashed on, her eyes perked up to watch it, alarmed. She hadn’t turned it on. And there were very few people who could bypass the caves system. So when she saw a small frame curled up in a chair she knew immediately what was up. 

“Duke…” she called to the dark haired boy who was trying to help decipher your whereabouts. “Go and get B.” 

It did not take long at all for everyone to gather around in the cave. Duke was fast, and everyone dropped what they were doing to race down: even Alfred had taken his leave from his duties to see. 

It was almost like some sick irony because as soon as they were all there, you began to scream. A guttering, perfect scream that cut that through them like a knife: unclean and pinging into them messily again and again. 

The joker had taken a knife to your left thigh, his smile dripping with malice as he watched the camera, somehow knowing that at least one of them would be watching. 

Your face was contorted in pain, twisting in agony as tears rolled flatly down your cheeks from fearful eyes. Damian felt sick, his stomach churning. Jason wanted to leave. But all of them were stuck watching. Barbra was tapping away, trying to locate the signal from the video to no avail. 

“I hope you’re watching this Batsy…” He moved round to trail your face with the edge of the knife. You whimpered. “I’ve got your little bird here and I must say, you need to work on their training. They were far too easy to catch.”

Bruce felt his jaw tightening and Tim had to place a hand on his arm to remind him of his place. 

“Anyway I thought we would play a little game… how long can little y/n survive for. I wonder if it’ll be any longer than our very own Jason Todd.”

Jason twitched. 

“I’m testing you here, Bat. Tick Tock.”

The transmission cut to black. 

~

It seemed hopeless. Even though they had been searching for days, they were no closer to finding you. And to make matters worse, they could see you. Not long after the first transition ended did it start up again. It had been lifestreaming since then, and although they had tried to block it from their minds, it was hard to ignore. Especially when your agonised screams ricocheted throughout the halls. 

You looked like hell. Dark bags occluded under your eyes and there wasn’t an inch of your skin that wasn’t marred or stained with drying blood. The burns were worse. Damian could still hear the scream you let out when the joker first brought the hot poker to your skin. It had bubbled and blistered as the skin peeled away; you had thrashed against your restraints violently. Tim was certain that they were going to get infected if they didn’t reach you soon. 

It felt as if they had searched everywhere. Dick and Jason had even asked around to see if anyone had heard anything, going as far to talk to the Jokers closest associates in Arkham, but even if they did know, nobody said anything. Duke had even gone as far to go back to the area to use his powers to see if he could trace anything, but nothing seemed out of place; they had hit a brick wall. That was…until a small light appeared on the monitor. Babs had managed to trace the signal to a small building on the outskirts of the city. 

They were suited up in minutes, making a beeline for the building. They stormed it, recklessly taking down the Joker's goons before Batman chased wildly after the Joker, his face stony and his fists burning with anger. The other four boys chased down the winding corridors, flinging open the doors until they found one that was locked. Tim wasted no time, picking the lock with ease he peeled it open. His breath hitched when he saw you. 

Your face was gaunt, hanging low by your chest. Your suit was torn and there was less of it on your body than there was ripped away. You looked so fragile as your chest heaved sporadically. 

Jason nearly had to take a step back. This place reminded himself too much of his own encounter with the Joker not too long ago. But he pressed forward, fighting his instincts. He had to be strong. Instead of turning back, he kneeled in front of you, whispering your name. His hand came up to cup your face. You flinched away. 

“It’s okay kid. It’s us.” He tried to reassure you, but you shrank back into yourself. 

“We’re so, so sorry kiddo.” Dick tried placing a gentle hand on your arm before moving to work on the cuffs around your wrists. “We’re going to get you out.”

You said nothing, just continued to stare at the black space before you, and Dami wasn’t sure if you even knew they were in front of you. But when Jason moved away from you to help remove your restraints, your fingers latched onto him and you squeaked in protest. 

He sighed shakily. “Don’t worry kid. I’m not going anywhere.”

Damian twisted from where he was guarding the door. “We need to leave.”

Dick nodded bluntly, finishing with the last of the locks. “I’m going to have to pick you up, okay sweetheart?”

You barely registered what he had said. Everything had grown numb, you nodded anyhow. Moving his arms underneath your legs and slipping one arm behind your back, Jason began to lift you. He nearly recoiled when you cried and whimpered with the way your wounds jostled as he sprinted out of the building to get you back to safety. 

~

You were yet to say anything since you came home. You had been back a few days and your wounds were healing up nicely thanks to Alfred’s handywork, but the air was eerily silent around you. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t been communicating with them; you spoke to them with gestures or writing but no one was used to not hearing your voice. The stark contrast between your loud and bustling personality and you now was unsettling. No one wanted to push you too far but the manor was beginning to grow lonely. 

It was one particularly rainy night when you finally spoke.  You were curled up in a large armchair by the window in the library, sinking back into the plush leather as you watched the raindrops race down the glass. Jason had been watching you from afar, contemplating whether to talk to you or not when he walked over. 

“What are you up to?” He asked you, making sure you knew that he was there before he spoke. 

You gestured toward the window,then to the half opened book at your feet and shrugged. 

“I see.” He nodded, taking a seat on the armchair opposite you. A comfortable silence settled between the two of you. Jason wasn’t much of a talker. He knew more than anyone what you were going through, which was why it was nice just to know that he was willing to sit with you, just so you knew that he was there if you needed him. It made you feel safe. But you also couldn’t help but feel guilty, and frustrated with yourself for being in a place that made him feel as though he had to do that. 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. 

Jason had to do a second take. His heart swelled. “What for?”

You sighed. “This. When I saw him…i-i froze. If I had run then this would never have happened.”

“Shh. This isn’t your fault.”

“But-”

“I promise, Kid. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

You nodded, looking away from him. But then you furrowed your brows and turned back to him. “How did you do it? How did you deal with this, Jay? Every time I close my eyes he’s there.”

“I guess I don’t, really. Or sometimes it feels like I don’t. I still get scared sometimes. I still see him in my dreams. But over time it gets easier. I had people around me to help me. And so do you, kid. We’re here. We’ll always be here.”

Jason shifted to brush away a rogue tear and you leaned into his touch and then wrapped your arms tightly around his middle. 

“I’m here. Always. We’ll get through this together.”

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