#this would at least allow me to track where they are so i can find them if this happens again

[yeonban]

Tobias is always wearing the latest fashion & using the allegedly latest gadgets (<-most of which don't actually exist on the market bc they're made at Wammy's or specifically created for him alone) but his house only has the minimum technology required to function & even That is placed strategically in rooms he rarely goes into and typically no guests can access. NEVER in his bedroom or hangout rooms where he typically speaks in (<-except the gaming/TV room, for obvious reasons). He too knows how to hack systems, so he's more than aware of how easy it can be for sb who works in the field to grab a hold of his stuff and use it to their advantage if they wanted to.

Blud doesn't even have CCTV cameras installed anywhere because he doesn't want them to be hacked into & used to spy on him instead, so whenever he wants to find/retrieve footage of anything, he either hacks into the city's surveillance cameras, looks at the cameras his various friends have installed around their houses/headquarters/territories/etc or finds someone who can access relevant visuals from the inside (i.e police/fbi/cia agents etc) 😭 the only cases in which he'd install cameras is if he'd know sb is after him & he wanted to misdirect them with fake info about his life/schedule/routine/etc, but they'd be promptly taken down afterwards anyway.

[baronessvonglitter]

Bad Santa

sleazy mall Santa!Joel Miller x fem!Reader | wc: 2.3K

Summary: Frantically seeking relief during the Christmas rush, the Santa at your local mall is the last person you'd expect to help.. and the only one who can.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Reader is a hot and horny mess and wears a short skirt. Mall Santa is a perv, but he's your perv. Semi-public masturbation (f). Squirting. Cockwarming. Semi-public sex. Infidelity. Unprotected piv. Oral (m & f receiving). Analingus (f receiving). Possibly illegal use of a candy cane. Creampie. Come swallowing. Santa Joel is a menace and a sleaze but that's what we all need, right?

Author's Note: one of the first things I learned about @strang3lov3 is that we share a deep love for Bad Santa (and Billy Bob in general) so this is written in her honor. Bug, I hope you enjoy Santa Joel, and don't forget to leave out some cigs and whiskey for him on Xmas Eve. (And the latest edition of Hustler. He's an old-school magazine man.)

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

You're home on Christmas break from college and all you want to do is fuck the boyfriend you left behind and have been faithful to for four long, painful months. But the only thing on Derek's mind is doing last minute Christmas shopping.

The mall on Christmas Eve is the last circle of hell.

Derek guides you through the crowd. "Sleigh Ride" plays over the speakers, tinny, bright and cheery. You hate it. You're impatient. You're horny. You need to find a way to get him alone, even just a fingerbang would suffice. For now.

You pass by the huge Christmas tree in the center where the mall Santa waits with bored-looking elves. There's no line, which is surprising given it's the last day for photo ops.

Santa watches as you pass, cheap plastic beard hanging off, revealing gray scruff, his red suit wrinkled and stained. You track his gaze roving over your figure, fully concentrating on the jiggle of your ass under the short skirt you'd picked out in the hopes of getting a quickie.

"God damn," you hear him mutter. "Merry Christmas, babygirl." he calls out.

You glance back and see him pull the beard down, wiggling his tongue at you in a lewd manner.

Fucking sleaze. But your pussy is wet and throbbing, and this is the first bit of attention you've had all day. You respond by stuffing your tongue in your cheek and making a blow job motion. Santa licks his lips and subtly palms his cock over his fluffy red pants.

Derek, oblivious, is walking you towards a department store.

"Mommy said she'd like a new bathrobe for Christmas," he says, bringing you past the awful perfume and makeup counters. You heard right.. Mommy. What the fuck?

"Didn't you already buy her a foot massager?" you ask, barely hiding your disinterest, looking around for a corner where you can blow him.

"She said she wants the robe instead," he says, diligently checking each one on the rack. Pink, green, blue, they're all in ugly prints and you wonder how little he must think of his mom to actually buy her a bathrobe instead of something nice.

But the bigger problem is your aching cunt.

"Derek, come on, just pick one out," you beg him, whispering in his ear, giving his lobe a little bite.

"Calm down, we're in public," he chides you over nervous laughter.

"So? That makes it more exciting." Closer to him as the clothing rack hides you, you cup his crotch, disappointed to find he isn't even remotely hard. Not a problem. You know exactly how to get him started.

"Let's go to the dressing room," you tell him before he can remove your hand. "I'll let you do whatever you want, please, I just need you now.."

"Get a hold of yourself," he whispers harshly, finally pulling your hand from him.

"Derek, what the fuck?" you whisper back. "Your horny girlfriend wants you to fuck her in a semi-public place and you're limp as a fucking noodle. Don't you want to at least watch me get off?"

You're not even allowing him time to think about it, leading him to the men's dressing room, where you're less likely to set off an alarm than the women's. You step into the first stall and push him against the wall, caging him in with your arms.

"Sweetheart, what the hell?"

"Fuck me," you tell him. "Jesus, Derek, I'm pussy on a plate right now." You lift your leg, rubbing against him, but only the fly of his jeans provides any feeling. "And you can't even get hard??"

"You're coming on a little strong," he says faintly, as if he's being cornered by a feral animal. And in a way he is.

You lean back on the little dressing room seat, hiking up your skirt. "At least eat me out, for Christ's sake," you whine, fingers dipping into your dripping-over cunt.

"Darling! You're acting like a crazy person," he says, shielding his eyes as you desperately finger yourself.

"You're such a pussy," you grunt out, breath hitching as you fuck yourself on two, then three fingers.

"You're not wearing any panties??" he says too loud, but you're past caring who hears, or if anyone even walks in. You'll gratefully fuck the store manager and the security guard who'll probably come to haul you away.

Derek keeps his gaze averted as you continue shamelessly fucking your hand, reaching inside your dress to twist your nipple. "Derek.. fuck.. you just gonna stand there and be useless?" You shove a fourth finger in your snatch, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Your boyfriend is deeply afraid as he risks a peek from between his hands covering his face. "You look possessed! You have to stop or someone's going to hear you!"

"Baby, please, put your cock in my mouth," you beg, still working yourself into a frenzy. "Jizz on my face, anything, please!" You're on the floor now, riding your own fingers, your other hand madly strumming at your clit like a perverted version of air guitar.

There's a knock at the dressing room door, to which you answer "Go away, we're fucking" Then you come, squirting all over the bathrobe Derek was going to gift his dear mommy.

"You're lucky that guy didn't turn us into the police," Derek says, tight-lipped as he leads you back towards the center of the mall. "Got it all out of your system?" He's leaving the store embarrassed and minus any gifts.

"Yes," you sigh in exasperation, though it's a bald-faced lie. The need is growing again and you're just a slave to it. Your hands itch to go up your skirt again, to relieve the tension before it becomes unbearable.

And there he is, right where you left him before. Fucking Santa Claus. Like he's been waiting for you this whole time.

"Let's take a picture," you pull on Derek's hand. "Please? End the day on a good note?" You do your best to look contrite but all you're thinking about is sitting on that sleazy man's lap, maybe getting felt up. It'd be fucking amazing to have someone touch you besides your own fingers.

Before he can even protest you're practically skipping past the velvet rope and traipsing up the candy-cane lined walk to the big green chair where Santa sits. His eyes already on you, he pats his lap, tongue peeking out between his lips.

Derek follows after, but is stopped by one of the elves, who tells him he has to pay in advance for a photo.

"And what's your name?" Santa murmurs, discreetly adjusting himself as you seat yourself on his lap. "Does it matter?" you ask, subtly lifting the back of your skirt as he pulls his thick hard cock. "Guess not," he chuckles low and deep, then hisses as your slick tight cunt envelops him.

"My fucking god," he says lowly, doing all he can to keep from thrusting up into you as your boyfriend comes up, all smiles as he watches you get cozy with Santa. He makes as if to sit on Santa's other thigh. "Not you," Santa grunts, his hands on your waist as you clench and throb around him. Derek holds a smile and stands to the side opposite you.

This, this is what you needed. His cock isn't even all the way in, the way you pulse around him pushes him out a little until his hands grab your waist, as if to pose you for the camera, and pushes you down, bottoming out within your sopping wet cunt.

"Gonna leave a mess on me," he murmurs. "Already got my lap soaked. And the suit's a fuckin' rental."

His breath smells like cigarettes and cheap booze and it's only making you want him more. "Fuck, I needed this.."

"You been a good girl this year?"

"Not at all."

He leans in and whispers: "Good girls get presents. Bad girls like you get to sit on Santa's fat cock." He shifts his lap up a little, jutting up into you and you bite your lip to barely suppress a moan.

Your picture is being taken with Santa but you could give a shit. Cockwarming him while he's whispering filth in your ear is the most fun you've ever had.

"Does baby girl want a candy cane?" he asks when it's time for you to go. Derek goes to pay, leaving you alone with Santa again. "We have some more in the elf cottage, You gonna come get one? Gotta earn it first.." His gloved finger traces your arm. "C'mon, ditch the wanker."

The elf cottage is a sparse room for the Santa's Wonderland employees to take their breaks, and right now it's filled with the sounds of flesh slapping on flesh, your moans muffled by the fluffy red hat he put there to quiet you as he bends you over the folding table and rams his holly jolly dick into your stretched needy cunt.

"That's it, baby, fuckin' take it. Let Santa stuff your tight lil' stocking," he grunts.

You moan around the red fluff of his hastily discarded hat, throat burning with all your pent-up screams. Christ, you've never had anyone so disgusting, so eager, so perfect to satisfy this itch that you've been unable to scratch yourself.

And lord, his cock is the most filling thing you'll ever have. You already know he's going to leave you gaping for the next few days.

He watches the ripples of your ass as you throw it back on him, taking his entire fucking shaft so that with each thrust his balls thwack against your inner thighs. "Tight and wet.. lil' bitch in heat, ain't ya?" he teases, circling his hips so you feel him against every square inch of your aching snatch. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, finally spitting out the stupid hat.

"Fuck me Santa, fuck me Santa, fuck me Santa," you chant in broken moans, pushing your hips back, demanding it hard and fast, which he gives even as you come, clamping down all around him in a vise grip.

"Jesus," he growls, pulling out and kneeling behind you. He purses his lips to your dripping cunt, wiggling his tongue against your folds before licking a wide stripe upwards, teasing your asshole with his tongue. You practically shove your ass against his face, his gloved hands spreading your cheeks to get better access.

Grabbing a candy cane from a basket on the table you unwrap it with your teeth and hand it to him. It's thick and hard, and Santa knows just what to do with it. Feasting on both your holes, he takes the candy cane and watches it disappear into your glistening pussy. Hearing your gasp encourages him to keep going, fucking you as his tongue keeps rimming your ass, delving into tease you.

There's a knocking at the makeshift cottage door, then a moment of silence and a "God damn it, Joel, not again!" from the other side. "Fucker's always doing something," the person, most likely one of the elves at the cash register, mumbles and walks off.

He's back inside you, sliding the candy cane between your lips, moving it in and out just as he moves in and out, keeping you spread open so he fill you with every inch. "Babygirl likes havin' somethin' to suck on, don't she?" he mutters, pumping steadily into you. "Gotta be a good girl and tell me where ya want it."

"Inside me," you beg, and he moves double time, hands on your shoulders as he ruts up against you, slamming every inch until you cry out again, knees buckling as you come hard and Santa Joel follows soon after, his jizz painting your insides in warm sticky ropes.

"Lick me clean, baby," he murmurs, and you immediately go to your knees, taking him deep into your mouth, your jaw aching as the tip of him hits the back of your throat. When you gag he keeps you there, your mouth filling with saliva until it spills out from your lips, mixed with his cum. You bob your head on his length, eyes watering as you look up at him, your cunt still throbbing as you start to leak him on the floor.

"Fuuuuck yes," he growls, hand on your head, teeth sinking into his lower lip as you suck him off, and it's a Christmas miracle he's hard again, and he's about to come. He holds your head still and facefucks you, your hands cupping his ass to stop him from going too shallow-- you need to be deepthroated for once in your life.

Santa Joel lets out another curse as he uses you to come, spurting his Christmas magic down your throat. "There's a good girl. Babygirl's thirsty for what Santa's got, huh?" he teases as you greedily swallow every bitter, salty drop.

Clothes are straightened before you leave the little elf cottage, but the look of satisfaction is plain on your face as you suck on the candy cane that you'd been fucked with only moments before. Santa Joel puts his hat back on his head and shuffles over to the helper elves. "I'm goin' out for another smoke break," he tells them.

The head elf puts her hands on her hips. "Joel, you're not allowed to take ten smoke breaks an hour!" But by then he's already on the way out, both middle fingers in the air to salute her.

Derek joins you, looking puzzled as he studies the holiday photo -- there's something off about the face you're making in it. "Did Santa give you that candy cane?"

Grinning, you slurp up the sweet peppermint that still has traces of your own flavor on it. "And then some."

dividers by @saradika 👑

Tagging those who showed interest: @clawdee @itwasntimethatdidit40 @milla-frenchy @myownwholewildworld

@penascigarette @hoelaris

[willowed-wisp]

könig as a dad (part three)[ könig ]

part one | part two

AGES 10 - 14:

- These are what he dreaded the most. Where kids think they’re smartasses and get addicted to video games and other sources…

- But he’s presently surprised when your two sons are very polite in supermarkets.

- They’re tall and more mature women ask for them to get things from the higher shelves- he was a proud dad that day.

- There’s definitely a rivalry between the boys but a friendly one.

- They walk your daughter home everyday that König is away

- I think at this stage, König asks for more of a strategic position which means he doesn’t go into the field.

- And you thought you’d never see that day, not complaining that he was at home. The most he was at work in the city was half a day, returning to your bed and trying to make another baby (you swear he still has baby fever)

- Friends of the boys don’t believe the age difference between you and your husband, because somehow König still has a slight baby face… he looked in his late twenties when you met him (he was about late thirties) and you were in your mid-twenties.

- Your daughter says to her dad, “I want what you and mumma have,”

- “And what’s that? Three little ones?” He tickled under her chin, he cherished that smile every day of his life.

- “No… how you look at each other… love…”

- He is NOT open to the idea of her getting a partner- whoever they turn out to be- he doesn’t want his little mouse to grow up.

- Your boys are on the rugby team and your girl does cross-country and long distance running

- All physical capability taken from König, unless you’ve done sports in the past- then you bicker over who’s responsible

- He definitely enrolls the boys in martial arts…

- Then your daughter begs him to go, she wipes the floor with her brothers.

- Teaches all of your kids carpentry, and your eldest absolutely gels with it. It’s like second nature to him.

AGE 15-19

- No boys in the house, that’s König’s rule, you stand by it in some respects especially when she gets older.

- However, “Wouldn’t you have her talk to you about people rather than going behind our backs?”

- He contemplates the idea, “She is my little mouse…”

- “Little mouse is becoming big mouse, König… don’t push her away by being papa mouse…”

- The next day on the way to her track and field training, she turns to you, “What did you say to dad? He’s been going on about little mice and ‘little mice don’t push away papa mice…”

- You’re confused to say the least, “But he also said that I can have people round the house- as long as my doors open,” That sounded strange and unlike your husband.

- “That’s good… did he say anything else?”

- “He’s been asking me names and addresses…”

- Ahhh…

- “Don’t give him last names or addresses, honey…” You looked at her, face dreaded with guilt. “You already told him, didn’t you?”

- You turn the car around after dropping her off. And find König staking out a 16 year old’s house, “Sweetheart… what are you doing here?”

- “Don’t play innocent with me… we’re going home. No more of… THIS…”

- He did stop, but still did background checks… he’s allowed to do those (his own logic)

- Your daughter only brought a girl home, they would study and bake with each other in the kitchen.

- “It’s nice she has a friend…” Your husband was so clueless.

- His eldest son raised an eyebrow, knowing the truth… “Talk to her, dad…”

- That night when it was just the family, your little girl came out to König. She was crying, terrified that he wouldn’t accept it- being a bit older than her friends’ dads.

- But all he did was bring her into a bear hug, like her brothers had when she came out to them. König really didn’t care what she identified as, as long as she was happy… he’d be happy.

- As for your sons, König doesn’t want either joining the military. Luckily for him, neither does.

- Your youngest wants to go into teaching, and your eldest wants to become an engineer- taking on his dad’s numerical intelligence.

- He was much more relaxed when it came to dating for the boys. You had the talks with them, much too awkward for König to do himself.

- Your youngest son would become a father at 19… fully supported by you two.

- Part of König is glad he has a grandchild while he’s under a certain age and can run around. Treats the grandkids like his own children.

- Maybe make them cry unintentionally but that wears off.

König is so proud of the family you and him founded on a whim after being together only a year after you met.

————

masterlist

[neptxn3]

Astrology Observations II

｡:ﾟ૮ ˶ˆ ﻌ ˆ˶ ა ﾟ:��

Disclaimer, these are observations I have made through personal experience and thorough research, observations also vary depending on other natal placements involved

doesn’t resonate ≠ untrue 

♅ Virgos tend to represent the trad wife far more than people assume taurus does, and that’s because Virgos ability to uphold their life (at least on the outside) tend to attract men who want a wife that can keep them on track

Some Virgo women tend to also attract gay men unfortunately 😭, again I think Virgos just seem like the perfect trad Wife and it will attract closeted men like flies. This isn’t to say all your partners will be closeted but the ones who are overly aggressive on your role in the relationship might be.

♅ Gemini moon children develop QUICKLY. These are usually the kids who weird you out with their extensive knowledge and self awareness that seemingly comes out of nowhere. The mercury influence allows them to digest many topics which in turn has Gemini moon children mentally developing at a faster pace than their peers

I’ve also observed Gemini moons are those annoying kids in your class that are a lot smarter and a bit condescending to others intelligence, not because that’s just the way they are, but their mercurial moon needs constant stimulation, and with a combination of their rapid growth you’ll see them climbing academic ranks which in turn can make them dislike school if they are not progressing at a speed they like. 

♅ Scorpio moons have a tendency to see the worst in every situation/person which can be a nasty habit, but this isn’t out of judgment, rather they don’t like to give people the benefit of the doubt. They don’t like to be screwed over and their best bet is to think of the worst scenario possible. 

♅ Aquarius Venus who are flaky in relationships and constantly cheat will eventually have karma handed back to them, usually in the form of being in their mid 40’s still single.

Aquarius Venus flaky reputation does stem from the fact that it is a Saturn influenced placement, as well as being fixed. It’s not that they hate any type of restriction to their freedom but rather to what extent you restrict them to. They can and will jump quickly into relationships but if they see any glimpse of possessive or controlling attributes they will leave. Again because it’s fixed and Saturn influenced Aquarius Venus knows once it settles down that’s it, they’re not going anywhere, that’s why they’re so scattered to find the right person who fits their criteria. 

♅ Moon/Sun harshly aspecting Neptune is the embodiment of “I hate my Mom/Dad, but I love her/him too”. Neptune harshly aspecting these planets can cause a huge wall of misunderstanding between parent and child, but Neptune blurs the lines so deep that the individual sees them “through rose colored glasses” and if incapable of harboring hate. I would even say there could be nights where these people will look back and remember their past relationships (Neptune = Dreams)

♅ 10h placements can sometimes struggle maintaining relationships due to the very contradicting nature of the Midheaven and ascendant. Usually people will perceive them to be very different from who they actually are.

This is also why they struggle with their self esteem (the natural square to the ascendant). Sometimes they feel like they need to keep up an image to satisfy others and that isn’t someone who they truly are 🥲

In synastry this also points to partners trying to change who they are/make choices for them because they think it’s “for the best” or “what’s good for them”. 

♅ Every Virgo rising I’ve met always gives me a small lesson on why astrology isn’t real but follow up with a “but can you read my chart I want to see if it’s true 👀”. I truly believe it’s the 12h Leo which makes them secretly a little self centered (hence the interest for things like astrology to attempt and figure themselves out) but the mercurial ascendant will always make them skeptical 😭

♅ Saturn conjunct Jupiter natives is a dangerous fire sometimes. I’ve noticed if they haven’t learned to balance this aspect in their chart, the people around them can suffer their warm and cold attitude. It’s almost as if one second you could be hysterically laughing in class together, and the next second they immediately stop and ask you to be serious and finish your work. WHERE DID THE VIBE GOOO?? The key here is moderation in whichever sign/house this is in

♅ Whoever said Neptune in hard aspect to Venus needs to practice saying positive affirmations (especially to Venus related topics) to themselves in the mirror was SO correct. Neptune indeed does reflect lies to you and reaffirming yourself in the mirror breaks that spell. I don’t think I’ve felt so beautiful since I started doing this. 

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Ludos Imperiales 12

A/N: Me posting on schedule for once?? And finally adding a Cassian moment??

Content Warning: Descriptions of Injuries, Mentions of Blood/Torture/Slavery

Previous Chapter/Masterlist

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

Cassian’s sitting up when I return in the late afternoon the next morning with enough mirthroot to get half the city high, his eyes bloodshot, rimmed with circles so dark I’m not convinced they aren’t bruises. 

“You haven’t slept,” I say by way of greeting. 

A shadow of stubble already crawls across his dirt streaked face, as if time is passing faster for him than for the others. Azriel’s wounds are the worst. They’d taken that flagrum to his already broken wings and I’m shit out of luck with how to treat such delicate limbs. I’d bandaged them best I could last night, and have come back this morning with enough coin to bribe the Arena’s healer into doing what I can’t, the least I can do is ease the other’s pain while they wait for their turn to be properly looked at. 

Cassian’s gaze drags to me like his eyes are made of lead. He’d let me touch his wings last night out of necessity, the bandages I’d set in place barely clinging on now. Sometime in the last couple of hours he’d managed to crawl into an upright position so he could watch the door, a fresh wave of blood dribbling down his sides to form a small puddle in the mud beneath him. “‘M fine.”

I approach slowly. He hadn’t said a word other than “fuck me” from the pressure of the bandages last night, had just gritted his teeth and accepted that I was the only one coming to help ensure he kept his wings. It was abundantly clear he’d allowed it out of necessity. Now that he can hear the healer making a fuss in Azriel’s cell, I’m unsure how necessary he’ll think I am.

“I brought something to help with the pain,” I say as I kneel in front of him. 

He watches me like I’m a snake coiled to strike. “Give it to Az.”

I place a worn leather satchel between us, the lip falling away to reveal a bottle of temetum and the multiple packs of mirthroot I’d acquired. His hazel eyes flick briefly to the bottle of undiluted wine before coming back to me. A move that would have been harder to track if he wasn’t so exhausted.

“I’ve got plenty to share. Take your pick.”

“Wine would be nice, I guess.”

At least he’s speaking to me. I uncork the bottle and hold it out to him. Finding cups was too time consuming, I’d figured they’d need a lot anyway, the three of them could easily finish off the bottle. 

He tries to take it, arm muscles so tight they’re shaking, but he can’t lift his arm very high off the floor before his face twists in pain. The whip had torn through both his wings and his back, it must have hit muscle somewhere. 

I move despite my better judgement, a hand on his bicep to steady him as he bites down on his lip to keep quiet. “Shit, here, let me help you.” I bring the bottle to his lips and tip it back, letting the crimson colored liquid slip slowly over the top.

I’ve never been more aware of him. The underlying scent of snow-chilled wind and crackling embers, heavy even under the coppery scent of blood and sweat clinging to his skin. The sheer size of him, every bit of him hard and sculpted for battle. I knew it; I’d seen it in action, but I was practically in his lap, watching every swallow he took as he drank the wine down like it might be his last chance at tasting it, and I realized I’d never been so close.

When I pull the bottle away from his cracked lips to let him catch his breath, his head falls forward just enough that for the briefest of moments, our foreheads touch. A breath shakes out of him, labored and heavy, and pained. 

Instinctively, the hand not holding the bottle reaches up to push a loose strand of sweat slicked hair off his cheek, where it falls in his eyes. His stubble is rough against the smooth skin of my palm, my fingertips gently tracing the swell of his cheek as I tuck it behind his ear. He doesn’t protest my touch like I expect him to.

“Thank you,” he whispers before pulling away. 

I want more. Damn me! Now that I’ve had a taste I can’t stop myself from wanting to trace more of him with my fingertips. I want to feel those damaged lips on mine, chasing the taste of wine away with my tongue. 

I lean back on my heels instead. “Do you want the mirthroot?”

Azriel screams from his cell, reality chasing away any lingering fantasies about what we can do down here. The bond echoes with his pain as the Healer calls for the Guard to help hold Azriel down so he can work. 

“Go help him,” Cassian says instead. “Please.”

Having them all in one place would make this so much easier, but I doubt we’ll ever be that lucky again. The odds are leaning towards individual matches in the future, I doubt the Emperor will ever let the mistake of letting them save each other happen again. 

Azriel’s screaming is getting more intense by the second and Cassian looks like he might try to stand and go to him if I don’t, so I make quick work of shouldering my way into Azriel’s quickly crowding cell. Two Guards have come to hold him down by the shoulders; his thrashing has knocked off most of the bandages I’d placed last night, blood flowing freely from the tattered membrane. His wings look like an old, tattered piece of cloth.

Between the three males, they’ve managed to get Azriel off the floor and onto the iron bunk welded to the wall, but the movement must have been excruciating because there’s a fresh puddle of vomit on the floor. I have to skirt around it to crouch in front of Az, where his chin sits against the edge of the bunk. 

I take his face in my hands. “Look at me.” His skin is hot to the touch, sweat dripping down his forehead as his body tries to fight off an infection.

He drags his eyes open, scarred hands fumbling to take hold of my wrists. “Make it stop. Make them stop.” He begs.

My heart clenches painfully tight in my chest. “They’re going to help you.”

His grip on my wrists is a vice as he tries to shake his head, the chain around his throat rattling. It has effectively cut him off from his shadows, the little creatures nowhere to be found now. The loss of their ever constant presence must feel like losing a limb. “Don’t let them take my wings!”

The fever’s making him delirious, but his panic is very much a real, thrashing thing down the bond. “They’re not going to take your wings, I promise.”

“I need to get to work-” the Healer starts.

“Shut up,” I hiss. “You didn’t even try to give him something for the pain first!” A bit of my darkness seeps out of my heels, hissing along the floor like their appearance might make up for my mate’s lack of shadows. 

The cell trembles around us, dust raining down from the ceiling. I don’t try to reign it in this time. The Guard will tell the Emperor about this, and I will tell him it’s all part of my plan. 

With some bullying of the guard I get my hands on some hot rocks in order to diffuse some of the mirthroot faster, letting the vapor rise like incense off the edge of the bunk. The smoke clouds the area around Azriel’s head, the high almost immediate. His hazel eyes glaze over, body relaxing as he slumps on the bunk.

I drift my fingers through his hair. “You’re going to be ok.” This is not the time to cry. The amount of things shooting down my bond with all three of them is a lot when they’re in this state, it’s taking everything I have to keep my own emotions in check, to not be swept away in the tidal wave of pain and fear that threatens to drag me under. 

I give myself a little shake. I have to be strong for them. “The Healer will help.”

Azriel groans, scarred hand reaching up to brush absent patterns along my wrist. “Hurts,” he slurs against the effects of the mirthroot.

“I know. It’ll be over soon.” I motion the Healer back over with my chin and the male has the good sense to look a little hesitant in getting so close to me.

I reign my darkness back in, little by little until it’s gone. The Guards share a look and I know this will get back to my Father eventually. I’ll have to be clever in my explanation; better yet, I should save myself the headache and go over to the Palace once I’m done here. It’ll keep me ahead, let me spin the narrative in a way that doesn’t make me look so bad in his eyes.

The Healer starts working and I instinctively intertwine my fingers with my mate, letting him squeeze as hard as he needs as the male starts dripping oils down his raw back. When Azriel whimpers in pain again, I set more mirthroot over the hot rocks. Everyone in the cell’s going to be high as hell by the time it’s all said and done, but it keeps Azriel from screaming, his breathing even as he drifts in and out of consciousness. 

Even as he starts to doze off, he doesn’t let go of my hand, his grip still firm and steady. I use my free hand to trace the grooves and ridges of his scars, the pattern like a map of valleys and hills. I wonder if he can even feel my touch, or if his nerves are permanently fried. I’d never thought to ask.

“Such delicate things, wings,” the Healer muses as he works. “You’d think something meant to carry a body this large would be less fragile.”

I tear my gaze away from Azriel’s hands to glare at him. “You will save them.” There is no room for debate here. 

The Healer rolls his eyes at me. “Sound like your Father.”

“Then you know what’s at stake if you mess this up,” I hiss in return. I won’t let the sting of the insult land. If that’s the monster I have to make myself out to be to ensure they are healed, so be it. There is no depth in Hel I won’t descend to to ensure their survival.

Azriel’s fully dozing now, his breathing even, body relaxed. I genuinely don’t know how he has the strength to still be holding my hand. 

The Guards leave when they see they’re not needed, I can hear them tormenting the other gladiators down the hall. 

The Healer makes slow work, between weaving strands of glittering magic along the frayed ends of Azriel’s wings and applying oils and antiseptics and bandages afterwards. Time becomes a steady unfurling of white bandages and blood. I keep myself busy by combing the knots out of my mate’s hair with my fingers; anything I can to ensure he knows, even in sleep that I’m here. I wish I could do more.

The Healer’s eyes are rimmed with dark circles by the time he’s done, the strain of that much magic clearly taking a toll. 

White bandages cover every inch of Azriel’s wings, and there’s more along his back, sticky from the oils. There’s not enough skin left to be stitched back together, the wounds will have to be cleaned and dressed over and over until they can heal on their own. A thought that makes me shutter. They need to be somewhere clean to avoid infection at all costs. It’ll be months before they’re able to fight again. Months before they’re able to be up and moving at all. And I know that it’s months we don’t have. 

I have to find a way to buy them time.

I toss the Healer the first round of coin. He’ll get the full amount once he’s done with each of them, to ensure he’ll properly comply with my many demands. I’m going to need a lot more to bribe him to do this daily if I can’t find a way to get them back to the River House. 

“This is a whole lot of work for a couple of slaves,” the Healer grumbles. 

It takes everything in me not to blow the roof off the place. 

---

Joining my Father for dinner is surely a mistake, but I don’t see what other choice I have. Besides, it’s not like I can go home. Not without being drugged again. 

The Emperor lounges on plush pillows, propped up by scantly dressed servants and fanned with palm fronds by others. There’s a feast large enough to feed the city spread out before them, barely touched as he focuses all his attention on a plate of roasted chicken and a never ending supply of wine. 

My cousins join him today, on his left, reclining against each other. Brannagh eyes me with enough contempt to remind me that the last we’d spoken directly, I’d accused her of sleeping with Dagdan. The fact that his throat is littered with hickeys does nothing to prove me wrong. 

Amarantha arrives after we’ve started, huffing an excuse about dealing with a prison riot.

The five of us make a sorry excuse for company. Dagdan won’t stop rambling one nonsense story after the other, most of which annoy Amarantha so badly she has no choice but to dispute his claims. There’s little room for the rest of us to get a word in.

I have not missed these. 

The food sits heavy in my stomach; all I can think about is how I had to bribe the Guard to ensure my mates even got a meal, should they wake up to eat it after the amount of mirthroot it took to get them comfortable. Rhys had finished off the bottle of wine before the Healer was done. 

“I tell you the male ripped the beast a part with his bare hands!” Dagdan finishes. I don’t know what the rest of the story was, I’d tuned him out, filling the noise in my skull with my second wine glass of the evening. 

The Emperor seemed surprised by my visit, but he hasn’t said a word about it yet, despite the way those slate gray eyes watch my every move.

“I can assure you, he didn’t,” Amarantha counters. “Leon has got to be the worst Gladiator Beron has ever produced in those grimy little Pits he runs in Autumn.”

“You haven’t been to those Pits in some time,” Dagdan refutes. “They are much better run than they used to be.”

“You sink too much money into false hopes, boy,” the Emperor chastises, but his gaze remains fixed on me when he speaks. 

“None as much as my dear cousin,” Dagdan sneers. 

“I’m sure you’ve nearly drained your purse on those brutes by now,” Brannagh says with a laugh.

Amarantha eyes me curiously. 

“My purse is fine,” I say dismissively, hoping to end this conversation here and now.

“How are your little pets?” Amarantha presses. 

I absently stab at a piece of roasted vegetable. Telling her their actual condition might leave room for her to try and do something to them; lying might send someone down to confirm my story. “Recovering,” I say, trying to find a middle ground between the two. “I’ll be lucky if the Shadowsinger can fly after this.”

“Wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t cheated,” Father says as one of his serving girls wipes a bit of wine out of his greying beard.

“It’s going to cost me a lot to fix, is all,” I say, using the excuse of biting my food to hide the way my jaw tenses. 

“I heard you were down there with them this morning,” he inquires.

Amarantha places her elbows on the table as she leans forward like she might miss this new bit of gossip.

Beside me, Dagdan frowns about being forgotten so quickly.

“I was.” I take another sip of wine to hide how dry my mouth suddenly feels. “It was fairly easy in the state they were in to convince them I had defied you to see them. I’d say their trust in me is fully cemented. They’ll start telling me things soon enough.”

“I want to know what Rhysand had planned after taking Illyria from me,” the Emperor says. It’s by far the closest he’s ever come to trusting me with political matters. “Surely he couldn’t have intended to push us out of the territory alone. His fighting men are strong, but it’s not enough of an army. He had to have been planning on aid from somewhere.”

I nod as I chew on another bite of food, pretending to think it over.

“His men have revealed nothing,” Amarantha sighs as she stabs at her plate with more force than necessary. “We’ve had to get creative with our methods to get them to talk and even under duress their… loyalty,” she spits out the word like its poison, “has won out.”

My chest constricts. Were the crucifixions not creative enough? Was making them walk here, chained and naked and beaten from Illyria not enough? We were torturing them now too?

“I can always put my talents to use,” Brannagh offers, tapping a manicured nail against her forehead. 

“Maybe they don’t know,” I offer. “Rhysand is secretive, allusive even to me. Maybe he held that card close to the vest for their protection.” I don’t like putting him directly in the line of fire, but I know what he would do if he was here, what he would offer to keep Brannagh’s hands off his men. All of them would offer themselves as a target to keep them safe. I can act for them in this.

“Give me a few more days, let me see what I can get out of him before you resort to that.”

“Awfully protective of these Illyrians, aren’t we?” Amarantha accuses.

“I’m merely thinking of the losses,” I counter. 

What was it my Father had always said? “A slave is more expensive to replace than to keep alive.”

To which the male raises his cup in salute before downing it in one gulp. The wine is quickly refilled.

“For once you were paying attention,” he praises.

The food sits heavier in my stomach. For so long that was all I’d ever wanted, for him to be proud of me, for him to see that I was trying my hardest to be the daughter he needed to me. I’d craved the faintest scrap of his attention for so long it had nearly destroyed me. To hear it now, to see what I would have had to become to earn it…

This whole Empire is a poison. It ruins everything it touches. 

“Brannagh, Dagdan, you may leave us.”

The twins look surprised by the sudden shift in conversation. Surely they thought they were going to be given an opportunity.

“But-”

He waves a hand at them. “We have matters to discuss that don’t concern you. Go. I’ll send for you if I need you.”

Brannagh grits her teeth as she stands, her eyes, the same shade as my Father’s narrowed in on me as if this is my fault. I supposed, in my absence, she’s gotten used to standing in my place, to being recognized. With me here now, there’s not as much room. The admiration of the Empire can only hold so many people. I fear I’ve made a bigger enemy out of her than I meant to.

Dagdan’s mouth opens and closes like he might say something, then thinks better of it. After his drunken outburst yesterday he knows he doesn’t have the sway he needs to be here.

They leave with their arms linked together, like the weight of the dismissal is too much for them to carry alone.

The glare Brannagh throws over her shoulder as the doors start to close tells me I need to be aware of just how many enemies I’m making these days.

“I need to make sure you are prepared for this task you’ve set out to do,” Father says once they’re gone.

My heart stutters in my chest. “What do you mean?”

“This information will not just come to you, if you intend to appeal to this bond they think they have with you and get the information we need, you need to make some… adjustments.”

Amarantha watches me over the rim of her glass.

“What are you suggesting?”

“Torture clearly won’t work,” he explains. “And it would ruin this trust they have in you. You need to be more persuasive in your approach, I think.”

“The faster we have results, the easier to deal with this mess will be,” Amarantha adds.

“And you’re in a… unique position.”

I don’t rub my temples like I want to. “Speak plainly, please.”

“Seduce them.”

I accidentally drop my fork, the clang of it hitting the plate deafening in the wide space.

“It's what they want from you anyway, what a mating bond demands happen. If you can convince them that you’re as desperate to be with them as they are you, they’ll tell you more readily. More secrets have been spilled in bed chambers than in temples.”

“Plenty of sponsors reap the benefits of their champions anyway, it would not be out of the norm,” Amarantha shrugs.

Bile rises in my throat. “Aren’t you still in the process of marrying me off?” 

“Romulus is intrigued by you, but he will not ask for your hand while you are tied to them. You ruined that chance.” He takes another long drink of wine, clearly displeased with that fact. “Tamlin and Eris are still competing, but what they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

I take another long drink of wine. “I’ll need them returned to my care at the River House. Attempting to do anything in the Arena barracks could lend ear to gossip and that could poorly affect a marriage proposal.”

“You can take Rhysand back, not all three of them.”

Any sort of excitement that I’d managed to actually pull this off fades in an instant. 

“They’ve proven that being together is dangerous.”

“They are not fools, they will see through this arrangement,” I try to argue, but he cuts me off with a raised hand.

“You have proven to be equally as unpredictable and I need assurances that you are not playing me just as you are them. I know what a bond is capable of, I have seen plenty of children turn on their parents for a mate. Prove yourself useful with Rhysand and then perhaps I will find a usefulness for the others. Until that time, they stay with the other gladiators.”

“They need a clean environment to heal if you are to keep them as gladiators.”

“This is not a debate. It is a test. You’ve revealed a weakness in yourself. Show me it isn’t one.”

“There are plenty of other ways for us to get results if you’re incapable,” Amarantha says with a shrug. “I don’t personally think you’re capable of separating your feelings on the matter, but I’m eager to sit back and watch it burn.”

My cheeks burn but I bite my tongue.

“I’ll get the results we need when you fail.”

“I won’t fail,” I say through my teeth. 

But it’s certainly going to take a lot more than I’d anticipated to play this Game, and play it correctly. Hell, I still have to find a way to get this to work around Anise! And manage to go back and forth between the House and here to ensure Azriel and Cassian are safe.

I don’t rub the tension headache building in my temples. I don’t let the mask slip. I raise my glass in mock toast to my Father. “Here’s to ensuring the safety of the Empire.” The wine helps the unease lodged in my throat go down a little easier. I’m going to need a lot more before this is done.

--------

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Sorry this chapter is so short, I was debating on the direction I was headed, so I just needed to set some things up. As always, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list and thank you all for sticking with me this far! <3

[strawberrystepmom]

ready to eat

pairing: Yami Sukehiro x F!Noble Reader

word count: 4.9k

contents: NSFW - minors and ageless blogs dni, I will hard block you. Takes place in canon universe, there is a slight age/experience difference insinuated between the pairing but reader is at least 25, reader has named magical ability (movement magic), so much banter, oral sex (f receiving and finishing and it's sexy)

cw: mentions of marriage and misogyny, virginity (reader is a virgin)

notes: brain rot has proven to be fatal so here you are. this is open ended and i would not consider it a oneshot bc i'd love to write more about these two. hope you enjoy! thank you for reading ♡ | crossposted to ao3, divider by @cafekitsune

you can find more about these two here, here, here and here 🖤

Nighttime is your time, a lesson you taught yourself independent of your instructors many years ago. 

Movement magic allows you the luxury of blending in with your scenery, rushing unseen toward a capital district that is on the opposite end of where your family has made their name. Nobody here would recognize you even if you were less discreet, cloak gathered around your face and obscuring any unidentifiable features, and the freedom is indescribable; better than every sunny day or freshly made tea dessert. 

You are free to be yourself. Unmarried, unattached, unimportant, it doesn’t matter. You stumble into the usual inn you make your domain until the sun rises, ready to watch the way people you have little in common with live. If anyone knew you’d get reprimanded, probably rightfully, though you have never quite understood the scandal that lies in being a well informed woman. Your mother was a gossip and isn’t that another way to become informed? 

It’s society's acceptable way, anyway.

You slink into the corner table, away from the crowd gathered nearer the bar, and slip your hood off of your face. No glances of recognition from anyone else, too engrossed in their own drinks and their own conversations, and you sink down against the back of the chair you’re sitting in. It’s nice to be anonymous, you decided months ago when you began doing this. You aren’t certain you want to continue being so inconspicuous when you remind yourself why you’ve been doing this to begin with - to gain even the slightest bit of the life experience that continues to elude you. To love and laugh and feel joy that you’ve been told only comes with marriage, something you are too apprehensive about committing to. 

It’s why you come namelessly into a district that does not belong to you or your kind. You hope that someone will find you interesting, a beaten path off their life’s track. Someone to laugh with or tell stories to. It’s all you’ve ever really wanted, a romantic to your core despite the decidedly unromantic life you lead. Caretaking, getting earfuls from your father about being a responsibility that the family no longer wants to have when taking your age and failed proposals into consideration. So lost in your own thoughts, you barely notice when a man slides into the chair next to you, glancing down at your hands and then at your face.

“You need to stop wearing whatever is making you smell like that.”

The interruption to your quiet evening makes you jump, no longer dissociating and now in the present. You recognize the man sitting next to you, a captain of a Magic Knights squad. Their faces are plastered all over the capital and you’re shocked that he stumbled into such a low brow establishment though getting a look at him up close convinces you that he may not be in the entirely wrong spot.

“Captain Sukehiro,” you offer politely, formal as ever. “I regret having to request clarification from a man as esteemed as yourself but what do you mean?”

The captain snorts, shaking his head in response to you as though your manners are piteous instead of a courtesy that should be extended to all. 

“Don’t call me that, Yami is fine.” He sniffs, stuffing a cigarette between his lips. “I’m talking about the shit you’re wearing that is filling every corner of this place. People don’t wear things that make them smell like bakeries around here.” 

Scrunching your nose, you lift your wrist to your nose for a sniff. He’s referencing the perfume you spritzed on after bathing and the way it sticks to you, the smell wafting around the table with every move you make. It hasn’t caught any eyes yet, thankfully, but he can see how this will end if you don’t correct your mistake now. 

“What are you doing around here anyway? I figured women of your, uh, breed or whatever stuck to their own districts.” 

Bristling slightly at his insinuation that you find yourself too good to hang out here, you square your shoulders and clear your throat. A low chuckle rumbles in Yami while he lights his cigarette, raising his brows and eagerly awaiting whatever argument you are clearly cooking up in that little head of yours. 

“I’ll have you know that I enjoy exploring parts of the city that I rarely see. I am out here thanks to my own curiosity.” Your eyes shift from Yami toward the rest of the tavern, a small smile on your face watching the patrons laugh amongst themselves. “I think it’s really wonderful that people are happy no matter how they were born into this world and I’m thankful to be able to experience this side of life too.”

The captain could spend all night laughing at your naivety if you’d let him but he doesn’t wanna let you dig any deeper of a hole than you’re already finding yourself in. You’re clearly a fully grown woman, even the doll-like roundness of your eyes and cheeks can’t convince him you’re under 25 judging from the way you carry yourself. You aren’t the first noble girl he has ever seen sneak off in an attempt to find herself yet it strikes him as hilarious you clearly believe it.

“So you aren’t like the other nobles? You see people as people?” The brusque individual takes a long drink from the mug in his hand, Adam’s apple bobbing while he swallows, your eyes fixed on the sheer size of his neck and throat. “What do you want? A prize?”

Even the enticing muscles of his body (how can one person have so many muscles bulging off of them anyway?) cannot distract enough to forget that he’s insulting you. You place your hands in your lap and fiddle with the edge of the cloak that covers the simple nightgown you are wearing, covering it enough that no one is suspicious about why you’re wearing nightclothes in the first place. 

“No, I’m simply telling you what I’m doing here because you asked.”

Sipping from his mug, the man glances you up and down. He swallows and squares his shoulders.

“Okay? That still doesn’t tell me what you’re actually doing here, you’re only talking about feelings and shit.” Another sip and he places his ale down. “So what are you doing here? Isn’t it a little late for your type to be out with the rest of us?”

He considers you for a moment. Not bad looking. Pretty, even. Not plain in the way some overly manicured noble women can come across and you clearly aren’t using magic to enhance anything about you or else he’d notice. He’s a pro at sniffing out transformation magic in women having seen so many who have taught themselves to dabble in the arts to subtly tweak their appearances. You sigh and he finds it impressively naive to do so, your shoulders pinching in while you exhale sharply out of your nose. 

“I’m looking for someone to help me.” Now this is interesting. He raises a brow, glancing you up and down. You lean toward him, creating a veil of intimacy in a crowded tavern, elbows resting on the table rudely. “I, um, I fear I’ll be woefully unprepared for my marriage bed once the time arrives and I want to avoid embarrassment. I’m already too old to be considered marriageable to most and my heart could not take physical rejection from my husband as well.”

“You’re a virgin and feel weird about it and now you’re makin’ it my problem.”

Gasping, your eyes widen and you shake your head rapidly. Yami smirks when he senses how quickly your heart is pounding beneath those layers of fabrics most in this place could only ever dream of seeing much less feel against their skin, curious enough that he won’t just tell you to get lost at this point. 

“Please do not repeat my predicament so loudly, Captain Sukehiro.” You whisper hiss, fighting the urge to kick him beneath the table as you do the rest of your fathers’ unruly issue you are the eldest of. “It’s not something I’m terribly proud of.”

The captain scoffs, humming to himself and adjusting his posture so that he’s leaning toward you instead of on the back of his chair, cigarette dangling from his fingers. You’ve captured his attention, at least for now, and he’ll give you all of it that you can handle. Pursing his lips, he glances around the bar for a split second before focusing on you, gray eyes locked on your pouting mouth.

“Then why is it your situation in the first place? Thought you nobles were too proud for your own good.” He flicks the lighter in his pocket. “And don’t call me that. Yami is fine.”

You should find it very rude that you are being asked so many questions and being made to suit so many demands made by a lesser born to begin with but the curiosity feels like deeply personalized attention, causing you to bloom in response. Hunched shoulders stretch out, the graceful posture you’ve spent what would amount to months of your life if you stretched the hours out perfecting appearing. No one at home is this curious about you outside of when you will no longer be around to tend the younger children your father continues to spawn and it feels different to be the center of a man’s attention. 

Not a weak, defanged little noble whose only function is to act as an additional limb for his father. A man with rough hands and battle scars and overgrown hair down his neck. 

“I haven’t felt a spark with any of the men I’ve been introduced to. They’re lovely individuals with proud lineage but it has always felt so…” you search around the room, lifting your hand to your mouth to idly nip at the cuticle around your thumbnail. “Forced. I don’t want to be with them and they do not want to be with me. Four men and none of them made me feel like I could spend the rest of my life with them.”

Once again, Yami chuckles at your predicament. Your cheeks heat in response, ears tingling and burning as that familiar feeling of being mocked encourages you to retreat inward. The awareness that you do not have to put up with this kind of treatment from a man beneath your station 

“Sounds like you’re hard to impress, kid.” A plume of smoke is blown over your head, the cigarette he was holding now dangling from his lips while he examines you with narrowed eyes. “Little darling won’t settle for less than a fairytale.”

Retreating further into yourself, you move your hands from your lap to fold your arms over your chest.

“I’m no child, obviously.” 

Your retort is as petulant as your posture and the man smirks, the corner of his mouth jumping, tenting his fingers in front of him and leaning toward you. Despite himself, he likes you. Your willingness to shit here and just shoot the shit with him has impressed him but not enough to let you off easy. 

“You’re here beggin’ for attention like one so I dunno about all that.”

Scoffing, you shift in your chair but make no effort to get up. You won’t be picked off by him that easily. 

“You know nothing about me, sir.” You raise your brows and shift your head to emphasize your point, arms still folded. A grown woman behaving like a little brat shouldn’t draw a man like this in yet he considers himself intrigued, stamping out the nearly depleted butt of his cigarette on the edge table in front of him. 

“Can’t argue with that. Keep talking.” 

He leans back in his chair and sizes you up, boots stacked on top of each other where his ankles are crossed and his long legs are extended out in front of him. It’s one thing to be keeping him here against his will because you won’t stop talking, it’s another when he is a willing audience. Your mouth runs dry and you gradually unfold your arms, placing them above your knee so you can subtly rid your clammy palms of the prickling sweat across them.

“I want to experience the things that a husband and wife are to experience together though I do not have anyone to enjoy them with.” Even the way nobles describe sex is stuffy and uncomfortable, Yami realizes, brows raising slightly. He lets you continue speaking before butting in, letting his arms dangle from the sides of the chair. “Perhaps it’s wrong of me to believe it will change my luck but I won’t change my mind. I have to know how to…perform.”

Perform is such an interesting choice of word. All of the sex the captain has ever had has been far less of a performance and more of a two person dance, locked in repetitive motions and tangled up as one form. He isn’t much for the sappy, intimate shit you’re clearly insinuating you’d like though he feels like he could help you.

“I’ll tell you what,” he starts, leaning back toward you and closing the distance to once again grant you some semblance of privacy. “I can show you how a man should treat a woman but I can’t promise you it’s how a husband will treat his wife, you understand?”

Your eyes widen and you nod once, picking up on his meaning immediately. Impressed by your sharp wit he smiles although it’s nearly as unfriendly as the ones exchanged at court and only slightly less smug. Leaning in toward him, your brows knit together, and you bunch your skirt up in your fists.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for, you know…” you trail off, frowning slightly. He pretends like he doesn’t understand what you mean, shaking his head and staring vacantly at your mouth. “I don’t know if I’m ready for you to take me.”

Another snort from him and your face heats like a wildfire. The two of you remained locked in this strange posture, whispering but not quite, discussing the terms of whatever is occurring here. Blood rushes from your face to your chest to your stomach, a familiar tense feeling between your legs making you shift uncomfortably in your chair.

“The only one who would be doing any taking in that scenario is me and you don’t have to worry about that tonight.” He tips his mug and finishes off the last droplets of his ale, sliding the empty vessel across the table top where it stops just short of you. 

“What if we never see each other again after tonight?” That sappy shit he was right to assume you wanted has surfaced earlier than he expected. He shrugs flippantly, arching a brow. “Then we never see each other tonight but at least you can say you know how it feels when a man takes care of you.”

Inhaling loudly, you weigh your options. 

You can always get up and go home, turn tail and run to where you will always be viewed as something akin to a decorative sconce on the wall instead of a human being. Your opinion matters not, you’re a glorified caretaker for your younger siblings, some of who are your fathers rightful heirs thanks to the boyhood the Gods so mercifully granted them. You can retreat and continue wasting away waiting for a man who thrills you enough that you can ever see him as someone deserving of being your equal. 

Or, you can consider Yami’s offer. He’s rough around the edges and speaks with no formality or regard and you like it. At least you think you do. He doesn’t care who you are any more than the others around you do yet he makes you feel the most seen anyone ever has. He’s interested in your words, your ideas, and even your pleasure - a realization that makes the knot in your stomach tighten further.

“Okay.” You concede. “I think that I’d like that.”

The man rises from his seat, smirking, tossing some coins down on the table in front of him for the drink. 

“I know you will,” he finishes, words dripping with honesty but not arrogance. 

He begins to head toward the stairs that will lead the two of you upstairs and your breath catches when he looks over his shoulder and raises his brows, signaling with a wave that you should follow him. You toss a few more coins on the table in front of you, uncertain of how much a room in an establishment like this would cost to begin with, and rush to follow him with your cloak pulled tightly against your body.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

This room is nothing like your quarters at home where everything around you gleams in gold and marble and silk. It may be decidedly less impressive though it’s twice as cozy if you’re honest. 

The bed is barely large enough for two and there’s a well loved desk pushed against the wall, magical light flickering from the wall. Shutting the door unceremoniously, you swallow and feel the captain at your back, a large palm covering the entirety of the space between your shoulder blades. You don’t recall him seeming so imposing downstairs, glancing upward to meet his eyes. He can tell you are inexperienced solely by how skittish you’ve become beneath his fingertips, an intriguing shift from who you were sitting opposite him.

Boldly asking a man to pleasure you has told him everything about the person you are beneath the skirts and the trappings of society. If he waits long enough he knows that hungry girl will once again show her face to him and while he isn’t particularly patient, he believes it would be worth his while to wait. 

“Go sit on the edge of the bed.” He instructs right above your ear and gently shoves you toward where he’s commanded you be. 

You follow directions and sit, legs dangling off of the edge, unfastening your cloak and letting it rest on the bed. The knot in your belly remains tight, keeping you on edge with all of your movements while your walls throb weakly, arousal and curiosity bearing down on you with similar weight. Sukehiro towers over you, slowly unfastening his belt and cloak, leaving the leather goods and his katana on the desk. 

“I’m going to lick your pussy. Do you know what that means?”

Cheeks warming, once again surprised by his lack of decency, you nod once. You have read about this particular act more than once and have also heard about it secondhand from some of the married women you call friends although their reviews have been mixed. Books have always made it seem far more interesting, an exchange in the same way a kiss is between a man and the paradise between a woman’s legs. 

“Good, at least I won’t have to explain all the technicalities.” He approaches you slowly and squats down, now face level with your middle. You glance down at him and wonder if you should touch him, if he’d like it, if he’d want you to. “Lift your hips.” The next command gives you reprieve from overthinking and you do as asked, raising them enough that he can pull your nightgown from beneath your thighs, spreading them to fit between.

“If you don’t like something, speak up.” He glances up at you, holding your nightgown halfway over his face. “If you do like something, speak up and I’ll keep goin’.”

The linen of your nightgown stretches and tents in the shape of Yami’s head and shoulders when he pulls it over himself, too big to be fully covered by the fabric. His back is curled into a C shape and the muscles ripple while he positions you, hands that you can feel but cannot see gripping the outside of your soft thighs to keep you from deciding at the last minute you are feeling shy. 

It’s too late for you to fall back on the shy act now, your panties dangling off of one of your ankles. Even if you attempted, you know the man currently fixated on spreading you open with his fingers would surface from beneath your skirt and laugh at you. Your heart simply could not take the open derision and ridicule, already feeling overextended thanks to this evening’s excitement.

“Alright, you’re about to feel something different,” he warns kindly, puffs of his breath fanning out against the slickened skin of your labia. The low rumble of his voice sends another rush of wetness seeping out of your cunt, excitement mixing with terror while you await the pleasure you were promised. 

Your hips shift impatiently on the edge of the dingy inn bed, legs on either side of his still dressed torso. His tank top is untucked from his pants and he no longer wears his belt, discarding the unnecessary while remaining firmly in control of the situation. There isn’t much that makes his mouth water but the sight of warm and just for him pussy is doing just that, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip.

His thumbs massage the outside of your thighs, keeping you as relaxed as possible, and he leans in to kiss the temptation he can no longer deny himself. A simple smack, loud enough that you can both hear it, yet the moan that escapes you is positively sinful. High pitched and breathy and immediately obscured, clapping your palm over your mouth to keep yourself quiet. 

“Nope,” he simply responds from beneath your nightgown, hand reaching up to remove yours from over your mouth. “What’d I tell you? Half’a the fun is hearing how much you like it.”

One of the thumbs that was rubbing circles into your thigh now does the same on the back of your hand, calloused digit occasionally catching over the surface of your smooth skin. It’s no shock that your hands are soft like your body and your hair and your eyes, it’s what your life was meant to be like the minute you assumed the role of it.  Soft and easy, no roughness to throw you off track.

Yami chuckles and lets his tongue feel you this time, dragging the wet muscle through your folds, rewarded with another of those breathy moans. You do not rush to cover this one, tilting your head backward and letting your eyes flutter shut to focus on the sensation of another lick. He takes his time to get to know you slowly, brushing the flat of it over your hole and dragging the arousal he receives as a reward upward toward your clit.

He doesn’t release his skills on your sensitive bud so quickly but a simple brush of the side of his tongue against it is enough to make you squeal, shoulders rounding in momentarily. Repeating the motion, you squeal again and arch your back, thrusting your hips forward into his face and dragging every bit of you he can see across his mouth.

“W-what are you doing to me, Yami?” You ask breathlessly, elbows propping you up on the bed and keeping you grounded. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

Your head swims with unfamiliar pressure, sparking a line from your brain to between your legs, all connected and you fight the urge to slump back onto the bed, too curious about the way that the light linen covering the man between your legs shrouds him. 

“Eating, obviously,” he mumbles against your body, tongue lapping against your clit. Your body reacts to each touch, thighs tensing on either side of his face, hips slowly bucking in pursuit of the feeling again and again. Your back arches and your moans are staccato babbles, elbows finally failing to hold you up when he gives your clit full attention.. “Oh my, wh–,” your back arches off of the bed before you can finish your thought, another rough lick to your throbbing clit followed by the warmth of his mouth while he sucks it between his lips, flicking the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue. 

There is no denying that you may be prissy and perfectly pampered but he was clearly correct in his assumption about you being more than meets the eye. The way your body responds naturally to his ministrations, hips grinding and toes curling and lips keening, tells him every little secret you’re too demure to spill. You want to have sex for enjoyment, to chase your own pleasure and have your own fun. 

He’ll never fault someone for that although he believes he can get you to admit it’s the truth. Maybe not tonight but eventually he’ll convince you to drop the “good wife” act. If he weren’t enjoying himself so much he’d grumble about considering a future where the two of you will meet up for this again, too lost in his own enjoyment of your pretty noises to realize how unreasonable this was to begin with.

“Please keep going,” you beg, a tearless sob thickening your voice. 

Yami doesn’t look up, well aware of what he is capable of, but he keeps his hand over yours and continues rubbing gentle circles into it. You flip your hand and face your palm upward, loosely tangling your fingers with his, your hips now dragging across his lips wildly. It’s messy and you are dripping like a peak season fruit, drenching his chin and sending little droplets down onto his tank top and chest. Moans increase in pitch when his tongue dips inside of you, lapping at your sweetness and drinking it down with satisfied grunts, though he can tell you’re close solely by how you ride his face alone.

You lack the words to describe how you feel, not that you are a stranger to self pleasure, but it’s different when someone else is showing you the maximum of how you can feel. Every inch of you buzzes with a pleasant awareness, nerve endings sparking like celebratory fireworks, and you lift yourself up with your elbows to glance down at the man making you feel more than you ever thought possible, your nightgown no longer around his head. You were so lost you didn’t even realize he shifted to holding your nightgown up above your belly button with the hand you aren’t keeping occupied, those astute eyes appreciatively watching your chest heave and face twist.

“Yami, I think,” you start and he chuckles, sucking your clit between his lips again, sending you over the edge and effectively making sure you know how exactly it feels when someone else makes you cum. 

Dots of light spark in the corners of your vision and you slump down onto the bed, too spent from the strength of your orgasm to remain upright. The perpetrator of your current state untangles your fingers from his wordlessly and he rises to standing, leaning over your exhausted body and propping himself up with his forearm.

“Good as you thought it would be?” 

Giggling, you nod. It’s all you can think to do, truly left wordless and thoughtless, grateful that what you read on the pages of the books you hide amongst your more chaste picks were somewhat accurate to how the experience feels. There has been no insinuation that he expects reciprocation so you don’t bring it up, quietly glancing up at him and noticing that the distance between your face and his decreases every few seconds.

“Now taste.” 

He closes the little distance left, tongue pressing against the seam of your lips. You grant him entrance and whimper when your mouth fills with the taste of his tongue, a mixture of acrid tobacco and ale and something you could only recognize as yourself. 

“Pretty good, right?” All you can do is nod dumbly, still splayed awkwardly across the bed. Should you leave? Should you stay? Is that pesky reciprocation going to come into the conversation now? Yami glances down at you with something you’d almost mistake for warmth in his cool irises, rolling onto his back beside you and folding his arms over his chest. “Are you going to head home now or what?” 

You shake your head, letting your flipped up skirt rest against your belly, the air of the room cooling your heated skin. “No but I’m not going to expect you to stay if you have other business to attend to. I will stay the night and leave before sunrise.”

It’s what’s polite. You did pay for an entire night, after all, and your raising will not allow you to be rude. Pushy and precocious at times but never outright disrespectful. The man next to you sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, turning his face to look at you. 

Maybe you are as pretty as he originally thought. It could be all the blood rushing from his head to his dick, a problem he is attempting to solve mentally by envisioning anything but the satisfying contractions of your cunt while it cums for him, but you glow even in this low light. 

“Only thing I have to do is go downstairs and drink and then I’ll just end up running my mouth and losing money.” 

You giggle at his honesty, turning your face to look at him. The gruffness only adds to his aura, as unrefined as a man can be, yet you really do like it. Even if the two of you sit here in silence for the rest of the night, there’s much you feel you can learn by simply gazing at him, a quiet battle of wills unfolding between the two of you like the mist that fills the city on a summer morning. 

Permeating, inescapable, potentially trouble.

[musaslullaby]

The first race

grid x fem reader

p1 p2 p3 p4

Summary: It’s your first Formula 1 race, but it doesn’t seem like you’re nervous.

Face: Bianca Bustamante and other

Warning: Most of the grid has a small weakness for you. It's a series

Masterlist

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Yn.official

Description: Ready for my first race? But first, breakfast with @.yourcousin.

liked by Landonorris, oscarpiastri and other 293932892

user90: How do you manage to look so calm?

F1_: We are more nervous than she is.

Fonefever: You guys are joking, but how is she always so beautiful???

Ynlife: It's so cute that she has breakfast with her cousin before a race.

Landonorris: Hey, invite me next time, maybe we could make it a habit. ❤️ Like to author

Yn.official: Sorry, but these are girls-only mornings.

danielricciardo: You shouldn’t eat those things before a race, trust me, dad knows best.

georgerussell63: Yeah, he knows something about that.

YnandLando: Guys, if Yn is driving in the third picture, who took the photo?

Loverace: Maybe her cousin???

Vroom: Or what if someone came to pick her up???

carlossainz55: If you like pancakes, you should come to my place. I could cook them just for you.

❤️ Like to author

charles_leclerc: Since when are you so romantic and sweet, Carlos?

carlossainz55: I’ve always been, you just didn’t know.

Yn.official: I gladly accept your offer, Carlito.

danielricciardo: Yn, remember what I taught you? Never go to a stranger’s house and especially don’t accept sweets from them.

f1gossip: Honestly, if Carlos were offering me sweets, I’d fly to him.

Carlss55: Guys????

Yn.official

Description: This is the price to pay when your cousin is a huge Ferrari fan (Maybe I am too 🤫).

Liked by Landonorris, oscarpiastri, and other 293932892.

yourcousin: I didn’t force you to do any of this.

Yn.official: It won’t take me long to revoke your VIP pass.

yourcousin: Okay, sorry (see you after the race). ❤️ Like to author

Yn.official: Bye-bye love.

user33: Haas is going to be mad.

love4: I can only imagine their faces when they see this post.

Ynlife: Let’s hope you don’t get fired, Yn.

C+Y: Charles and Yn would make a cute couple.

charles_leclerc: If you wanted a kiss, you could have just asked.

❤️ Like to author

oscarpiastri: Not everyone is that bold.

Landonorris: It’s probably better to kiss cardboard than you.

lewishamilton: Mind if I also get you some Mercedes teddy bears?

❤️ Like to author

Yn.official: Oh my gosh yes, thanks, it’ll be the sign of our friendship.

georgerussell63: Come take a tour of the Mercedes garage.

❤️ Like to author

kimiantonelli: Yn, if you need anything, you know where to find me. ❤️ Like to author

Olliebearman: Umm… let me remind you she’s my teammate.

danielricciardo: I’ll knock you all off the track today.

Yn.official

Description: Ollie is asleep, and dad said no more phone use 😒.

Liked by Landonorris, oscarpiastri, and other 293932892.

F1lover: What a beautiful family!!!

❤️ Like to author

Ollie_: Maybe Daniel will become the father-in-law of Ollie.

Bear: Ollie is thinking about how to win Yn over.

maxverstappen1: It’ll be tough, my friend.

georgerussell63: Oliver, the warm-up? You’re not allowed to stop.

Olliebearman: Yn, you traitor.

Yn.official: Oops, it was a pleasure.

danielricciardo: Get off the phone and go for a run too.

Ynlife: Yn got scolded by dad. ❤️ Like to author

One: I’m sure now Yn’s gallery is full of pictures of Daniel.

Landonorris: It won’t be a pleasant sight.

oscarpiastri: I agree.

haasf1team: After the last post, you now owe us at least some points.

user45: Trouble for Yn.

charles_leclerc: If I’m in the right mood, I’ll let you pass, Yn. ❤️ Like to author

Yn.official: What a gentleman.

georgerussell63

Description: Our girl finally came!!!!!

Liked by Landonorris, oscarpiastri, and other 293932892.

carlossainz55: Cabron, hands off.

danielricciardo: Remember, she’s my daughter.

Formual10_: No guys, I can’t handle this, they’re so cute.

Landonorris: Come to me too, Yn.

oscarpiastri: Can I offer you some tea? To cool you down, maybe you’re hot.

Yn.official: Thank you, Oscar, for your concern.

user6: George is so happy in that hug.

flove: But also, look at her smile.

mErcedes: Kimi, on the other hand, looks shyer.

Lifef1: She would make a beautiful couple with any of them.

Lan: Imagine Yn’s children with the different drivers.

Vroom: Masterpieces.

Race: I’m already ready for the wedding.

Landonorris

Description: Umm… I had to go retrieve Yn who got lost in the paddock.

Liked by: Landonorris, oscarpiastri, and other 293932892.

user12: How many outfit changes does this girl make?

georgerussell63: She’s a model, she has style, just like me.

maxverstappen1: Are you sure you’re stylish?

mclaren: You two would make a great team.

❤️ Like to author

f1race: Even McLaren recognizes their chemistry. ❤️ Like to author

op81: Oh my gosh, after Charles, now Lando too???

Charlesfan: Yn, you owe us some explanations—what’s going on between you and Charles?

Vroom: I think they’re just friends.

4ln: Yn is driving all the guys on the grid crazy!

Yn.official

Description: 10th place and Charles Leclerc won, I couldn’t be happier. Obviously aiming for the podium.

Liked by Landonorris, oscarpiastri, and other 293932892.

charles_leclerc: You brought me good luck.

❤️ Like to author

Yn.official: You didn’t keep your promise. You didn’t let me pass.

charles_leclerc: I'm sorry moun ange ❤️ Like to author

user32: This nickname is sooo cute

Yn.official: Thanks Charlie

Landonorris: For your first race, you did well.

❤️ Like to author

Yn.official: Thanks, Landotwowin.

user43: Everyone’s proud of Yn.

Racelove: The track is her natural habitat.

georgerussell63: Sooner or later, you’ll overtake all of us.

❤️ Like to author

oscarpiastri: Watch out, Max—Yn might steal your World Champion title in the coming years. ❤️ Like to author

maxverstappen1: I’d be more than happy to hand it over to her. ❤️ Like to author

user45: Max being kind??? To Yn???

carlossainz55: The award for worst photo ever goes to Yn.

❤️ Like to author

danielricciardo: Carlos, you know you always have to encourage the kids. ❤️ Like to author

Yn.official: ha ha ha is not that bad

f1love: Charles’ face in the last photo is super cute.

Charlesfan: Perfect for a meme, thanks, Yn.

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Tag list

@barcelonaloverf1life

[tired-demonspawn]

im working on something else rn but a lil while ago i made a star wars au, so here you go :)

the main idea is written in the corner but imma tldr it(also i dont trust the upload quality of the pic): set in roughly prequel era robotnik used to be a high up republic special weapons group guy and, as a high up military guy, was assigned a jedi bodyguard, that being stone.

once his inventions got a bit too war-crime-y the republic had him jailed and stone (who fell in love with him) breaks him out and they start being weapons dealers

other misc details under the cut

okay so some of these are mentioned in the pic but i wanted to specify/expand/clarify:

stone never really falls to the dark side, that's actually why he couldn't bleed his own crystal (which let's be completely clear he would be willing to do for robotnik), he simply didnt have the hate and pain necessary to do it. he follows robotnik, his devotion and duty to him is what gives him strength in the force(think knights of zakuul)

to go with his brand, also just to show that he could, robotnik made stone a lightsaber with a black market red kyber crystal... smthn smthn your lightsaber is your life...

i went with orange for his original one because

it provides a nice contrast with the rest of his fit

it goes with robotnik's colour scheme

he simply does not have the temperament of a purple lightsaber, i dunno man the vibes are off

for my fourth reason let me present to you a quick clone wars episode concept:

--

(clone wars intro music)(random quote) UNCERTAINTY HAS GRIPPED THE REPUBLIC! the separatists have captured a republic military research vessel along with its scientists and military generals! it is up to only 3 brave jedi to save them.

(i fucked up the tone of the intro guy by the middle, and also i dont really have a 3rd guy i just wrote 3 cuz it seemed like a number they would use)

anyway gimmick clone wars intro aside

robotnik was forced entirely into the military uniform(including non special gloves) for a special scientific military meeting where "even jedi werent allowed" it obviously being a trap robotnik had a few aces up his sleeve, but even so, stone was told to stay on alert, because robotnik was most definitely getting kidnapped.

so when robotnik misses all 3 agreed upon check ins stone contacts the council(hes already somewhere with a lot of jedi, its not just a matter of "he thought it best to report"(and waste precious time that could be spent saving the doctor?) but "he literally cannot take a ship and leave without it raising suspicion"), he basically tells them something like "we cant waste any time arguing, im going. i am closest to the last reported location" so the council sticks 2 more people on him(if it was an actual episode they would most likely be already established, so we could see a "familiar face" interacting with this new character of stone)

anyway they find where did the seps take them because obviously robotnik chipped himself.

with the correct password(that only stone has(not that he knows that hes the only one)) robotnik can be tracked even through hyperspace(not exactly, but it at least gives a general quadrant of space, which ofc after leaving hyperspace gets pin-point accurate)

they get to the base, they sneak around trying to find how to get to the prisoners(because its nice that they have robotniks coordinates to the tenth of a milimetre, but they dont have the base blueprints)

during the dramatic peak of the ep, there's a weirdly menacing moment where the mild mannered jedi knight, that was kinda made fun of the entire episode for being "reduced to an errand boy" can actually swing a lightsaber around pretty well.

and then he unties robotnik, helps him up, asks if hes alright("of course not, imbecile! what took you?" "the tracker wasnt as accurate while in hyperspace as you theorised" "hm. well in any case none of this would happen if it werent for this stupid uniform" "i have a change of clothes prepared for you in the ship") aaannnd the errand boy is back

fast forward, robotnik was both arrested and freed, is now doing his own thing.

the two knights that were with stone in that "initial episode" are snooping around one of robotnik's labs, investigating this new arms dealer. they're on a terminal of some sort and behind them out of focus of the camera a bright orange lightsaber ignites, contrasting sharply against the red/blue tones of the lab.

"you aren't welcome here." the former jedi knight says.

--

and scene

so yea hope that last bit sold you on the orange lightsaber bit

originally wanted to post this au with more art attached but alas life had other plans.

anyway if you've read this far i hope you have a nice rest of your day :)

also dont be afraid to ask any questions about this au, i have so many thoughts about it, so im 100% sure i didnt include something i deffo have figured out because i either a) forgor 💀 or b) didnt know how to properly explain a vague feeling about a possible situation

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Your Secret is Safe with me... With US....

Doohan Sister Reader F1 Driver Reader Cadillac Formula 1 Reader

Returning to the track the next day felt like a chore, each step heavier than the last. Today wasn’t about the race—it was about honoring my uncle in the only way I knew how.

A long time ago, he had given me a custom pin chain designed for the collar of a suit—something sleek, something personal. Silver, with two outstretched wings as the pins. I had never worn it at a race before, but today, it felt right.

So I dressed accordingly.

A black button-up shirt, the collar adorned with the silver chain and its delicate wing pins. Over it, a baggy leather jacket, only half-buttoned to let the chain glint under the paddock lights. Straight-legged black pants completed the look, along with my usual Nike high-tops—one of the few constants in my life.

I walked into the paddock in silence, the hum of conversation and laughter faltering as I passed. The atmosphere of this track was bright, electric, filled with vibrant colors from drivers wearing bold outfits to match the energy of the weekend. And then there was me—dressed in something more fitting for a funeral.

The moment the media caught sight of me, the chaos erupted. Cameras snapped in my direction, the clicking and flashing intensifying with every step. I didn’t flinch, didn’t stop. Normally, I would have. Normally, I would have given them something, even if just a glance. But not today.

I could already see the headlines forming in their heads. They would twist this against me, paint me as distant, unapproachable, brooding. But I couldn’t bring myself to care. Not today.

Interacting with fans and media would only make it worse. I didn’t trust myself to keep up the act—to hide the weight pressing against my ribs, the ache sitting heavy in my throat.

By the time I reached the Cadillac garage, the usual hum of chatter inside had quieted. Mechanics and engineers paused mid-task, eyes flickering to me before quickly looking away. The concern was evident, but I ignored it, making a beeline for the one person I trusted most here.

Nico was waiting for me in my usual corner of the garage. The moment our eyes met, he gave me a sad smile, understanding without needing to ask.

"Hey, Ghost," he said gently. "I know today’s gonna be tough. Do you need anything from me?"

I nodded, my voice carefully neutral. I had been fighting the burn in my chest all day—I wouldn’t let it consume me here. Not now.

"Yeah. If you can find a way to minimize my media duties after the race, that would be great. I can do them, but… I don’t know how long I’ll last before I break."

Nico didn’t hesitate. "I’ll see what I can do, bud." He placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, a silent promise. "For now, take whatever time you need before the drivers’ parade."

I gave him a curt nod before turning on my heel. I could have gone to my driver’s room, locked myself away from the world. But something about the heat of the sun pressing against my black clothing felt grounding.

So instead, I walked.

Down the pit lane, where the media weren’t allowed, where I could breathe without feeling the weight of a hundred lenses on my back.

At least for a moment.

When it was time for the drivers' parade, I stayed in the back of the room, away from where the others had gathered. The air buzzed with conversation, laughter, and the usual pre-race energy, but I remained silent, still.

Any other day, I might have felt a pang of hurt at how easily silence made me invisible. How quickly I could fade into the background when I wasn’t cracking a joke or joining in on the pre-race banter.

But today, I was grateful for it.

Grateful to be overlooked.

At least, until I wasn’t.

Two sets of eyes found me, locking onto me like twin beacons through the haze of chatter.

I didn’t need to see their faces to know who they belonged to.

Both boys peeled away from their own groups without a word, their movements quiet but deliberate. When they reached me, stopping just two feet away, the energy between us shifted.

Their expressions, once lighthearted and carefree, had darkened—concern replacing whatever pre-race excitement had been there moments before.

Neither of them spoke right away.

They just stood there, looking between me and each other, waiting.

Waiting for me to let them in.

Oscar looked like he wanted to say something, but the moment was cut short. The call to head onto the trailer came, and like a machine set on autopilot, I fell into line with the other drivers.

I barely noticed that Lando and Oscar had taken up position on either side of me until Lando nudged my arm lightly.

“Alright, Ghost,” he said, his voice casual but playful, “I know you’re not much of a talker, but this is ridiculous. You’re usually at least pretending to enjoy this part.”

I blinked, forcing myself to focus as the three of us stepped onto the trailer.

Oscar leaned in slightly. “I was gonna say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this quiet. Are you conserving energy or just silently plotting something?”

Lando gasped dramatically. “Oh no, don’t tell me you’ve finally given in to your dark side. You’re planning world domination, aren’t you?”

I let out a slow breath, pressing my lips together to keep from smiling.

“Damn, he’s not denying it,” Oscar said, eyes widening in mock horror. “It’s over for us.”

Lando placed a hand over his chest. “We had a good run, mate. At least we’ll go out knowing we were kind of the fastest here.”

I exhaled through my nose, shaking my head slightly. They weren’t being pushy, weren’t demanding answers—they were just being themselves, trying to pull me back into reality.

“I hate to break it to you,” I said, voice quiet but even, “but if I wanted world domination, you two wouldn’t be my first recruits.”

Lando gasped again. “I’m offended. We’d make an excellent evil trio.”

Oscar crossed his arms. “Yeah, you’d need at least one of us for planning and the other for distracting.”

I huffed a small laugh despite myself.

Lando grinned like he had just won something. “There he is.”

Oscar nudged me lightly with his elbow. “Alright, now that we’ve got you talking, tell us—what’s with the dark-esk outfit? Did you finally snap and we are seeing a revenge arc?”

I stiffened for half a second before forcing myself to relax, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets. “Not really.”

Oscar and Lando exchanged glances, sensing something but wisely not pushing further.

“Noted,” Oscar said, shifting the topic. “Well, just so you know, Lando here has already almost fallen off one of these things before. So if he suddenly disappears mid-parade, don’t be alarmed.”

“Hey,” Lando protested. “That was one time.”

Oscar smirked. “One time that we know of.”

This time, I didn’t have to hold back the laugh. It was small, barely there, but real.

And for a moment, just a moment, the weight pressing down on my chest felt a little lighter.

By the time the parade had ended, just about every rookie had taken a moment to try and lift my spirits. They offered small jokes, lighthearted banter, and reassuring pats on the back, all assuming that the brutal criticism and the weight of the weekend had worn me down. But none of them—none—truly knew the ache my heart was trying to mend, only for it to tear open again with every quiet second I was left alone with my thoughts.

The only one who didn’t come near me was Jack. And maybe that was for the best.

How was I supposed to look him in the eye, knowing that the same grief that had shattered me was clawing at him, too? How could I lie to him, pretend I was upset from media critics, when we were both drowning in the same loss?

I couldn’t. I knew that.

So the moment the trailer came to a stop, I was the first to step off, weaving through the bustling paddock with only one thought in mind—get back to my driver’s room before the walls I had barely managed to keep standing finally collapsed.

The second I shut the door behind me, my chest caved, and I sucked in the first deep breath I had taken all day. It was shaky, unsteady, as if my lungs themselves rejected the idea of calm. But I needed to regain control. I needed to silence the storm in my head. I needed to go numb before the race.

I pulled out my phone, scrolling mindlessly through my playlists before my fingers hesitated over one I hadn’t touched in years. Indycar Rage+Ruin.

I pressed play.

The soft strum of a guitar hummed through the speakers, and immediately, my throat tightened. My uncle and I had made this playlist together during my first year in IndyCar. It had been our escape, the one thing that always seemed to drown out the noise of the world. He had built my music taste, shaped the songs I clung to in my hardest moments. This playlist, though—it was filled with his recommendations. Every song carefully chosen, meant to guide me through anger and exhaustion, to remind me of my worth when the world told me otherwise.

Back then, when I was ridiculed for being too young, too inexperienced, too different, he sat me down, placed an earbud in my hand, and said, "Let the music turn their doubt into your fuel. Show them what I already know you can do."

Tears burned in my eyes as the memories swelled, raw and vivid. His voice. His laugh. The way he always believed in me when no one else did.

I pulled off my helmet, my hands trembling as I changed into my fireproofs. But when I picked my helmet back up, my breath hitched.

It was another piece of him.

I ran my fingers over the design, tracing the lines and colors that hadn’t existed until he convinced me to take a risk. I had wanted to keep my old one—stick with something familiar. But he had pushed me to evolve. To make it mine. To leave the past in the past, to move towards my future, to the day I finally showed my truth to the whole world. 

So I had. Every stroke, every detail, had come from his suggestions.

I swallowed the sob creeping up my throat, forcing my emotions into the deepest corner of my mind. I couldn’t break here. Not now.

I wiped the last of my tears away, pulling my balaclava over my face and securing my helmet in place.

This is for you.

And with that, I stepped out, ready to race.

—

Lap 26.

P8.

I should be fighting. I should be pushing harder, clawing my way back up the field. But all I could do was exist in the seat, my body moving through the motions like a machine while my mind drifted elsewhere.

The world outside my cockpit blurred into streaks of color—flashes of the crowd, pit boards, and curbs passing by without meaning. The radio crackled in my ear with strategy calls, updates on gaps and tire wear, but they barely registered.

Numb.

That’s all I felt.

The weight of grief had settled into my bones, anchoring me to a darkness I couldn’t shake. Every turn, every straight, every second that passed only reminded me of the gaping hole in my chest.

My uncle should have been here.

He should have been watching from the garage, pacing back and forth with that nervous excitement he always had whenever I raced. He should have been waiting for me at the end of this, ready to pull me into one of his crushing hugs and tell me exactly what I did right, no matter the result.

But he wasn’t.

He never would be again.

I clenched my jaw, my grip tightening on the wheel. The ache inside me grew stronger, heavier, suffocating.

Then, without warning—

"You know why people look for flaws in you?"

A voice.

His voice.

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. But at that moment, it didn’t matter. It was as if he was right there beside me, speaking through the static of my own thoughts, cutting through the numbness with words I had heard before.

"It’s because they see something in you that terrifies them. You’re not just another driver. You’re proof that the future doesn’t belong to the same old faces they’re used to. You prove them wrong every damn time you put your hands on that wheel."

I sucked in a sharp breath, my vision focusing again on the track ahead.

"They will always find something to pick apart. They will say you’re too young, too reckless, too emotional. But that’s just what people do when they can’t deny talent anymore. When they know that talent is going to change everything."

A lump rose in my throat.

"I know you, kid. I know you better than anyone. You’re strong, you’re relentless, and you are more talented than you even realize. I can’t have kids, but from the moment I put you back in that kart and saw that fire in your eyes, I knew—I didn’t need to. You were mine. You are mine. My kid, my racer, my pride."

Tears welled up, blurring my vision for a split second before I blinked them away.

"I love you like a father loves his daughter, and I will always, always be with you. My sister has no idea the daughter she lost that day, but I know the one I gained. So show me, kid. Show me just how amazing of a daughter I got."

The numbness cracked.

Then shattered.

A fire erupted inside my chest, spreading through every inch of my body. My grip on the wheel tightened—not from despair, but from purpose. My uncle’s words weren’t just a memory; they were fuel, reigniting the part of me that had been drowning all day.

I would not let this race slip away.

I would not let grief steal this from me.

I would honor him the only way I knew how—by fighting with everything I had.

"Let’s go hunting." I growled into the radio.

The response was instant. I could almost hear the sudden excitement in Diego’s voice.

"Copy, let’s get it."

Lap 27.

I launched into attack mode.

The first victim—P7. I lined up the move through Turn 3, positioning myself perfectly for the switchback out of Turn 4. Late on the throttle, I powered past, slicing ahead just before the braking zone into Turn 5.

One down.

Lap 30.

P6 was trickier. They defended hard, forcing me to back off twice. But they were draining their tires with every aggressive move, and I was patient. Into Turn 12, I dummied left before diving right, catching them off guard. My front wing edged past their rear tire—just enough. I held my breath, committed, and sent it.

They locked up. I didn’t.

P6 was mine.

Lap 34.

P5 and P4 were in a battle ahead, slowing each other down. I used it. A perfect slipstream down the main straight, and with DRS wide open, I took them both into Turn 1 in a double overtake that had my heart hammering inside my chest.

Lap 39.

P3.

Only two cars stood between me and the top step of the podium. My tires were screaming, my body was running on adrenaline alone, but I refused to lift.

Lap 42.

P2.

A lunge down the inside of Turn 10. No hesitation. No second thoughts. It stuck.

Final lap.

The leader was just ahead, but I was closing. DRS on the back straight. Slipstream. My pulse thundered in my ears.

Turn 14—late braking. Aggressive entry. I forced them wide.

Turn 15—I pulled ahead.

Final corner.

I could see the finish line.

This is for you.

I floored it.

The checkered flag waved.

I crossed the line.

P1.

I won.

A cheer ripped from my throat as I screamed into the radio. The team’s voices roared back at me, their cheers barely audible over the pounding of my heartbeat.

I slowed the car, my hands shaking, my breath coming in uneven gasps as reality crashed into me. Unbeknownst to me, My sobs being played over the live broadcast, something that could come back to bite me in the ass. But I no longer would care. 

I had done it.

I had honored him.

Slowly, I rolled to a stop in parc fermé, the engine ticking as it cooled behind me. My chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, my hands still gripping the wheel as my body trembled with adrenaline, exhaustion, and something much deeper—something far heavier.

I had won.

But he wasn’t here to see it.

The roar of the crowd echoed around me, but it felt distant, almost muffled. Right now, the visor had become my barrier from showing the emotions racking my mind. That barrier felt like the only thing holding me together.

With slow, deliberate movements, I unstrapped my belts and climbed out of the car. The moment my feet hit the Halo, I stayed there, standing tall atop my machine.

Then, I placed my hand over my heart.

And I pointed to the sky.

My head stayed bowed, my gaze locked onto the carbon fiber beneath me. It wasn’t a grand gesture, it wasn't a show for the cameras or the fans—it was just for him. A silent message. A promise.

This win is yours, too.

The moment passed, and I finally stepped down from the car. The second my feet hit the ground, I turned toward the barrier, toward my team waiting on the other side.

They were already there, arms outstretched, shouting my name.

I barely made it two steps away before they pulled me in, wrapping me in a massive hug, their cheers filling the air around me. The warmth of their embrace, their unfiltered joy—it should have grounded me, should have held me together.

But as I let myself sink into them, the weight of everything crashed down all at once.

My breath hitched. My chest tightened.

I wasn’t ready to break here. Not in front of them.

Slipping away from the group, I ducked my head and moved quickly, weaving through the celebration before anyone could notice. I needed a moment. Just one.

By the time I reached my driver’s room, I barely had the door closed before my legs gave out. I sank onto the small couch, my hands trembling as I ripped off my gloves, pulled off the helmet and balaclava before I pressed my palms over my face.

A shuddering breath. Then another.

And then, finally, the dam broke.

Silent sobs wracked through me, my body shaking from the force of them. The grief, the joy, the pain—all of it collided in a way that stole the air from my lungs.

I had won.

I had done exactly what he always believed I could do.

But it would never be enough to bring him back.

And God, how I wished he was here.

Suddenly, I heard yelling from outside my door.

"You can’t go in yet!"

The warning reached my ears too late.

The door swung open before I could react—before I could pull my helmet back on, before I could even turn away.

Three pairs of eyes locked onto my tear filled ones.

Fuck.

Instinct took over. More voices echoed down the hall, growing closer. I didn’t think—I just moved.

Grabbing all three of them, I yanked them inside and slammed the door shut, twisting the lock into place.

Silence.

Only the sound of my own breathing filled the room, ragged and uneven. My heart pounded as reality sank in.

The gig was up.

There was no covering this up, no half-baked excuse that would save me now. They had seen me. Really seen me.

I dropped my head against the door with a quiet thud, the dull ache grounding me in the moment. A long sigh escaped me.

Shit.

I finally turned around, bracing myself.

Lando and Oscar were still frozen, their faces caught somewhere between shock and disbelief. Lando’s mouth hung slightly open, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Oscar just blinked, like his brain was still buffering.

But Franco—he looked different. His expression wasn’t one of shock, but something else. Guilt.

That’s when the dots connected.

Franco had been acting differently ever since the day my uncle passed. Ever since the moment I broke down in Nico’s arms. But… the door had been shut, right? No. It hadn’t. He must have seen me.

My breath hitched as I locked eyes with him, and in that instant, I knew. He didn’t say a word, but his gaze told me everything. He had known—maybe not the full truth, but enough to suspect. Enough to treat me differently ever since.

“This whole time…”

Lando’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts, calm but laced with something unreadable. My head snapped toward him, bracing for the inevitable backlash, the betrayal, the anger. But it never came.

Instead, the shock on his face melted into something else—wonder, maybe even admiration. Beside him, Oscar’s expression shifted in the same way, the disbelief settling but not turning to resentment.

“You’re actually a girl?” Oscar blurted, blinking rapidly. “This whole time we’ve been calling you a dude?”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, a small smile tugging at my lips. I nodded.

Lando let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Well, I guess the voice changer actually makes sense now. I thought maybe you were just embarrassed about your voice or something stupid like that.”

Oscar grinned. “Yeah, I figured it was just part of the whole mysterious Ghost persona thing. But damn—this is next level.”

Their easy acceptance caught me off guard. I had prepared for anger, disappointment, maybe even disgust. But this? This felt… light.

“I honestly wasn’t expecting this reaction,” I admitted, my voice softer than before. “I thought there’d be a lot more anger. Or, I don’t know… disgust.”

That wiped the smiles off their faces instantly.

“What? No!” Lando exclaimed, his brows furrowing.

“Why would we think that?” Oscar asked, genuine confusion in his tone.

I hesitated before answering. “Because I’m a girl. Or maybe because I chose to hide my identity instead of fighting my way into the sport the ‘right’ way.”

Lando let out a short chuckle, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Right way? What even is the right way? Every girl in motorsport has to jump through hoops just to get a fraction of the chances we get.” His gaze softened. “If anything, you found the only real way to prove the facts over the ideals—you proved you belonged before anyone had the chance to doubt you.”

Oscar nodded, crossing his arms. “Think about it. You’ve spent the last five years proving a girl can race with the best of the best. The only difference is that you were given a fair shot—without prejudice clouding people's judgment from the start.” He tilted his head, a sly grin forming. “Just imagine the absolute meltdown the anti-female racing fans are gonna have when you reveal yourself. You’re about to shatter every argument they’ve ever had in real time.”

My heart swelled, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through my chest. For the first time in years, I felt like I could breathe.

They didn’t just accept me.

They believed in me.

Franco finally spoke, his voice quieter than usual but steady.

"They are right," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "When I found out yesterday,"

My stomach twisted as he confirmed my suspicions.

"The door wasn’t all the way shut. I was walking past when I heard you sobbing, and before I could even process it, I saw Nico holding you. And… I saw you—not Ghost, not the masked driver everyone argued over—but you."

He let out a slow breath, like he had been holding it in for months. "At first, I didn’t know what to think. I mean, I had hunches that something was off—sometimes your mannerisms didn’t match up, your reactions felt… different from what I expected—but I never thought this was the truth. And when I did realize? Everything just… shifted."

I stiffened slightly, but his expression wasn’t one of judgment—it was one of understanding.

"I saw the way you carried yourself, how you fought for every inch in this sport, how you refused to back down even when the entire world was tearing you apart over baseless rumors. And then it hit me—" He shook his head, his voice growing more certain. "—if you had never hidden your identity, if they had known you were a girl from the start, you wouldn’t have even made it to IndyCar, let alone past it. You would’ve been written off, ridiculed, shoved into a marketing stunt instead of given a real seat."

I swallowed hard, because he was right. I had known it. But hearing someone else say it out loud? It made my chest tighten.

Franco ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "And that’s what pissed me off the most—realizing that you had to do this. That you had no choice but to race under a mask just to prove you belonged. And even then, people still found ways to tear you down." His jaw clenched. "It made me sick. That’s why I started acting different—I wasn’t mad at you, I was mad at the system that forced you to do this in the first place."

Silence hung in the air between us.

I had spent years preparing for this moment, expecting rejection, expecting people to be angry with me for lying. But instead, all I was met with was understanding.

A lump formed in my throat, and I had to blink hard to keep my emotions in check.

Lando let out a deep breath. "Damn… that’s actually insane when you think about it."

Oscar crossed his arms. "Yeah, it’s fucking bullshit is what it is."

Franco looked at me then, something unreadable in his eyes. "But you made it anyway." His lips quirked up in a small, almost proud smile. "You proved you belonged—without sponsors forcing a diversity hire, without a team trying to sell you as the next big ‘female trailblazer’ before you even turned a wheel. You earned this. And now that you’re here? No one can take that away from you."

Something in me cracked at those words.

For so long, I had braced myself for this truth to destroy everything I had built. But instead, these three—these friends—were standing beside me, not tearing me down but lifting me up.

For the first time in years, I wasn’t Ghost.

I was just me.

I took a slow, shaky breath.

“If I tell you the full truth… will you promise me something?” My voice was quieter now, uncertain.

Lando, Oscar, and Franco exchanged glances before nodding.

“Of course,” Lando said.

“Anything,” Oscar added.

Franco just gave me a firm look, waiting.

I hesitated, but I couldn’t stop now. The weight of the secret was pressing down on me, and for the first time in years, I wasn’t carrying it alone.

“I didn’t start hiding my identity because I wanted to,” I admitted. “It wasn’t some big strategy or grand plan. I did it because it was the only way I was ever going to race.”

Their brows furrowed, curiosity flickering in their eyes.

“My parents… they never wanted me to be a driver.” The bitterness in my tone was undeniable. “Jack? He got everything. He was the future of our family in racing. My parents invested everything into him, his training, his career. But me? I was their daughter. That meant a different future—one where I was supposed to be proper, ladylike, anything but a racer.”

Oscar’s mouth parted slightly in shock. Lando looked outright offended.

“But… then how did you start racing?” Franco asked, confusion laced in his voice.

A small, sad smile pulled at my lips. “My uncle. He helped me. He was the only one who saw how much I loved it—how much I needed it. He taught me behind my parents’ backs, found ways to get me into karting under a fake name. He made sure I had a shot.”

I swallowed hard.

“They never knew. Not my parents. Not Jack. And as I got older, the lie became my only way forward. The mask… it became necessary. If they found out, it would’ve been over before I even had a chance.”

Silence filled the room, the weight of my words settling in.

“I watched so many other girls get stuck,” I continued, my voice dropping to almost a whisper. “They had the talent. They worked just as hard, if not harder. But they were always seen as ‘a risk,’ as ‘a marketing opportunity’ instead of real drivers. Meanwhile, I just kept moving up—because they didn’t know. Because I was a mystery they could project their own expectations onto.”

I let out a humorless chuckle.

“And now? This is all I know. I don’t know how to race any other way. If I take the mask off now, everything changes. I change.”

I met their eyes then, desperation creeping into my tone.

“That’s why I need you to promise me. Please. Keep pretending you don’t know. Keep using male pronouns. Keep the secret alive—just a little longer.”

I could see the emotions warring in their expressions—concern, understanding, frustration at the reality of it all.

Then, Lando let out a long breath, shaking his head in disbelief before cracking a small, lopsided smile.

“This is fucking mental,” he muttered.

Oscar nudged him. “Lando.”

“What? It is! But…” He looked back at me, something more serious in his gaze now. “I get it.”

Oscar nodded. “Me too. It’s not fair, but if this is what you need… we’ve got your back.”

Franco was the last to speak, his expression unreadable. But then, he gave a single nod.

“We’ll keep the secret. No one’s gonna hear it from us.”

Relief flooded through me so fast I almost felt lightheaded.

"Thank you," I whispered, meaning it more than I ever had before.

Lando let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. "You know, we originally came in here to congratulate you on your first goddamn F1 win, but somehow, we ended up in a full-blown identity reveal."

Oscar snorted. "Yeah, this was not on my bingo card for today."

Franco shook his head with an exasperated laugh. "You literally won your first race, and instead of celebrating, we get emotional in your dressing room and drop the biggest plot twist of the season."

I couldn't help but chuckle at that, the tension in the air finally easing. "I mean… if it makes you feel any better, I also wasn’t expecting this to happen today."

Lando threw his arms up. "Oh, fantastic! That makes it so much better."

Oscar patted his shoulder. "Deep breaths, mate."

Lando shot him a glare. "I have been breathing, thank you very much."

"Could've fooled me."

"Shut up, P5."

Oscar smirked. "P5? Mate, you're acting like you didn't just get your ass handed to you by the ‘rookie’ we all thought was a guy five minutes ago."

Lando groaned dramatically. "And now that's gonna haunt me for the rest of my life."

Franco clapped his hands together. "Alright, as fun as this little existential crisis is, we have an awards ceremony to get to before the FIA starts hunting us down."

My eyes widened. "Shit, you're right." I rushed over to grab my helmet, shoving it back on my head before anyone else could see my face. The visor clicked into place, securing the secret once again.

Lando waggled his eyebrows. "So mysterious."

I smacked his arm.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"For being you."

"Wow. Rude."

Oscar sighed, already heading toward the door. "Can we please move this along? I'd like to see secret history being made sometime today."

Franco pulled the door open, peeking outside to make sure the coast was clear before gesturing for us to follow.

As we stepped out, Lando leaned in toward me. "Just so you know, Max is gonna be so pissed he lost to a literal ghost driver."I smirked under my helmet. "Then let’s not keep him waiting."

Masterlist

Taglist: @widow-cevans @honethatty12 @wierdflowerpower @imlonelydontsendhelp @thatsnotaddy

[rapz-rites]

Edit

Damian Wayne x Reader

For someone big on social media, you would’ve never expected this side of it, and love it

A/N: … So… I'm in college… idk how consistently ill be able to post. I thought I could do every week but ig that's not possible for me as I'm taking 6 classes 😭 My goal is to post at least once a month to put something out. That highlighted part is from when I had about 85% of this done MONTHS ago. And I'm finishing this during spring break 2025, and mind you this was asked September 2, 2023… IM SO SORRY 😭

Word Count: 1.4k+

Warning(s): none I think…

As someone with almost 100 million followers across several social media platforms, to say you’re relatively active is an understatement. You’re practically always working. As a part-time college student, it took a while for you to find a good balance.

You would post at least 2 YouTube videos every month, usually vlogs, TikTok’s every few days, sometimes a few days straight if you have enough content, an Instagram post every now and then, and posting on Twitter and Snapchat are rare unless something big is happening. On top of that, you have a monthly performance meeting with your team. You talk about how your engagement has been and ways to increase it. At the last meeting, they thought you could reply to more comments and videos you’ve been tagged in.

~

You were chilling with Titus on Damian’s bed, knowing well that Titus isn’t allowed on the bed, waiting for him to return from Patrol. After almost 3 years of dating, it has become routine for the two of you at this point. After editing and posting for the day, you would spend the night at the manor, and the next day you had off, you spent it with friends/Damian.

As you were waiting you took it upon yourself to scroll through comments and videos you’ve been tagged in. While scrolling through the comments of a video you posted of you and Damian doing one of those game interviews, you saw a comment that confused you.

Wifeofyn: I can see the edits already 😃

Edits? Like the ones you would see when a new movie or show came out? Due to the people you follow and the type of content you and them post, you rarely ever see them. And you never spent enough time on your for you page to get them either, so you searched it

Search: Y/n edits

You scrolled and scrolled. You were completely mesmerized as you watched the TikTok edits of yourself for the first time. You watched in amazement as you saw how people turned your everyday life into something straight out of a movie, albeit you have made cameos in movies before and had some minor roles but it was nothing like this. You got so caught up in the videos, your excitement bubbling over, that you lost track of time and everything else around you. You didn’t even notice Titus had gotten off the bed and went to sleep in his and Damian had returned from patrol.

It’s only when you feel the bed shift and see Damian lying next to you, freshly showered and awaiting your attention, that you realize he’s back. You realized that he’s probably been watching, and most likely studying, you for God knows how long.

He saw the excitement in your eyes every time you watched an edit. He heard your laughs as people used funny or sarcastic things you’ve said before in intros of edits. Of course you thought they were hilarious, no one was funnier than you… He even saw when you rolled over on your stomach and started kicking your feet in the air when you discovered the couple edits your fans made of you and Damian. You snap out of your TikTok trance with a start, your face flushed. You turn to him with an apologetic smile, eager to share your newfound excitement about the edits.

Over the next few days, you spend some of your spare time watching edits. It didn’t matter where you were, on the toilet, in the car, at a cafe. You LOVED them.

It had been a few days since you had “discovered" the edits of yourself. You’ve been commenting and “reposting and sharing the edits you’ve seen.

~

Secretlifeof_y/n started a live: Revolutionary Discovery

You look at your phone and watch as the number of viewers is increasing.

“Hey guys, I’m gonna let more people join before we get started”

Y/n_lover: omg your reposts

You continued to see comments come in regarding your reposts on TikTok.

“Wow! 10 thousand people in less than 15 minutes”

ButtercupBriii: is it me or has she not been on live in a minute

777.Marley: @ButtercupBriii no you’re right it’s been like 3 weeks

You read more comments of people agreeing that you haven’t been on live as much. That was the whole reason you were on live now.

“Now that we have more people in here, HIIIII!”

You watch as comments flood in of people greeting you and asking many questions. In the back, the viewers can see that you're in Wayne Manor, as you have gone live there several times before, and Stephanie is searching for something in the pantry.

“I’m trying to read all the comments coming in but you guys are too fast,” you say as your eyes skim the bottom of your phone screen. Accidentally letting out a snort, you slap your hand over your mouth. “Someone said Stephanie in the back looking for food is giving big back. Yall are evil !”

Stephanie pops her head out of the pantry giving the camera a confused look. “They said what about me?”

She walks to you with a large metal mixing bowl filled with baking supplies. You move the camera back so she can place the items onto the counter while also giving the camera a greater view of your surrounding area. Noticing candy in the bowl that you know she got for the two of you to snack on, you opt not to say anything about it. You clap your hands together while standing straight and slightly popping your hips out.

“Okay guys. Today Steph and I are,” You start. Stephanie moves close to you and in unison the two of you enthusiastically state “Baking brownies!!”

“So,” you start. “While we’re mixing everything, neither of us will be able to read comments so we’re just gonna talk, and while the brownies are baking we can chit-chat.”

As you and Stephanie pour ingredients into the mixing bowl and mix them, you talk about how the night you first saw the edits of yourself. You explain how you saw a comment referring to them and got curious, prompting you to search “Y/N edits”. That’s how you ended up with over 50 reposts of edits of yourself and various friends and family.

You pour the mixture into a flat pan and Stephanie goes to put it in the oven. While Stephanie does that you start reading comments aloud to answer.

“Who’s my favorite editor? Wifeofyn. But yn_lover is up there too.”

You and Stephanie continued answering the comments until you heard voices from the foyer. Sure enough, it was your boyfriend and his brothers returning from one of their excursions. You could listen to them bickering, which was normal, considering that's how they communicated 70% of the time.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of your boyfriend as he and his brothers walked into the kitchen. Everyone started getting comfortable, especially Dick with the camera. You move towards the back of the kitchen with Damian. He wraps his arms around you from behind and you instinctively relax into his embrace. You let your head fall back while he nestles his nose into your neck, inhaling your scent.

“You smell delicious,” your boyfriend mumbles into your shoulder. You couldn’t help but giggle at him, “I smell like flour.”

“You still smell good.”

The two of you remained in the same spot and position for several moments in silence. It was moments like these you loved: in Damian’s arm, in a comfortable silence, watching life happen.

You notice Jason is staying away from the camera. This peaking your interest, you question him. As you’re asking Jason about his seeming distaste for the camera, Damian kisses the side of your head as he let’s to know he’s going to retire to his room for the night.

“I’m not getting in frame because people will make edits and every single one you see you’ll send it to me and next thing you know I have 42 edits of myself to watch” Jason states.

You gasped, acting offended, but you knew he was right. You also knew people were probably editing this live. You rolled your eyes at him and walked back to Stephanie, who was downing some brownies with Tim and your phone.

“Guys so the brownies are done and I miss Damian so I’m going to bring him some. I promise to go live again soon,” you finish off by blowing a kiss to your viewers.

LIVE ENDED

Tag List:

@firephoenix2020

@devotedlyshadowytheorist

@Manonptv

@inmymonologue

@Findingnolia

@thereal5limshady

@blackrockshooter780

@lillian-morningstar

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

Hope you enjoyed this and so sorry it’s late to the person who requested it

[tommydarlings]

fucktoy part 4 | f1 grid

pairing: dark!dom!mick schumacher ; dark!dom!toto wolff ; x sub!bimbo!reader

warnings: smut, dacryphilia, possessive behaviour, obsessive behaviour, mentions of tracking somebody’s location, covering mouth???, pussy eating, hair pulling, breeding kink, spitting, gagging

w/c: 0.7k

summary: the f1 grid loves to simply use you as their fucktoy or as a stress relief and nothing else.

check this out: my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3 // my Patreon to become a member! (get access to +65 works) // Save a Life carrd made by me! <3

Thinking about how mick would keep an eye on you everywhere and every time and get unbelievably mad the seconds he notices you’re somewhere he didn’t allow you to be.

You were partying with your girl friends but forgot to tell mick — but that wasn’t really a problem for him since he tracks your phone and car anyway — which you didn’t know since you’re only his situationship.

He immediately got into his car and drove to the club you were at.

And as you saw him storming into the club with a not so happy facial expression, taking long and angry looking steps right towards you.

And here you were now, being mercilessly thrusted into against the one of the women’s bathroom stalls, mick behind you gripping your hair in a tight grip, his lips grazing your ear.

“You think you can just go out partying or shit like that without letting me know? You could have given me a call… or at least message me but no, you’re dumb little brain didn’t think about that, huh?“ you arched your back further as his thrust got harsher.

You shook your head, trying your best to find some excuse but you came up with nothing.

Mick chuckled, “can’t find any stupid excuse, huh?“ And you only gulped, rolling your eyes into the back of your head.

“Thought so,“ he mumbled before he almost lovingly kissed your wet temple, still mercilessly thrusting into you.

Suddenly, you heard two women entering the restroom, loudly chatting and laughing with each other and just when you were about to release a not so quiet scream of pleasure, mick swiftly covered your mouth with his hand, immediately shutting you up,

“Shh,“ he whispered into your ear from behind, his thrusts not stopping, “just scream into my hand but just so you know I won’t stop.“

Or how toto would literally think and talk about breeding you all the time just so you don’t even spare a glance at the other men in the paddock.

You were in his office, dress bunched up by his big, veiny hand as one of your legs was laying carelessly by its knee on his glass table.

Gasps and whines were constantly leaving your mouth as the older man ate your wet pussy out from behind, collecting all of your juice and spitting into your hole, his hands roughly spreading and squeezing your cheeks.

“O-Oh fuck! Oh god!“ you screamed through gritted teeth, the tip of his tongue rapidly running along your slit, occasionally entering you before sliding out again and spitting on it, being very messy and careless.

He removed one hand from your ass, running his long pointer and middle finger along your drenched cunt before entering you, his lips not biting and sucking on your cheeks, clearly to create prominent marks.

“Mhmm… who were you talking to earlier, meine kleine?“ my little one, toto asked in a raspy tone with a smirk, his two fingers making quick work of deeply entering you and slowly sliding out of you again, repeating that devious process over and over again.

You gulped, “I w-was only talking t-to Charles about-”

“You were talking to Charles, that’s right… and that’s exactly where the problem begins,” toto told you from behind, his fingers speeding up, forcing you to around them as you heard him spitting onto them, making you even wetter.

You whined in a high pitched tone, letting your head fall onto the expensive table half of your shaking figure was laying on.

Toto spoke up, “maybe I should breed you, make your pretty little body all round, hmm? What do you say, liebling?“ love.

You quickly shook your head, you were too young and the two of you weren’t even together, you were just casually hooking up to have some fun and release some pent up stress or anger.

His fingers left your clenching pussy, quickly putting them into his mouth and licking them clean, his eyes still focused on the back of your head, a frown on his face as he noticed how you swiftly shook your head.

Toto slowly stood up, “no? Why not? Then everybody would know that you’re mine and you’d be pregnant with my child! Wouldn’t that be just beautiful? That way I could easily show those immature, young boys that you’re completely off the market,“ he mumbled into your ear from behind before he entered you with his big cock, forcing you to take deep breaths as he slowly filled you up.

“Oh yeah, I’m gonna put a pretty mini version of the two of us into you now, you just relax and let me do it, alright?“

BONUS;

Or how Lewis would have the audacity to make you feel so embarrassingly small and dumb.

CONTINUE READING THE EXTENDED VERSION WITH THE L.H BONUS ON MY PATREON! <3 [1k]

[daycourtofficial]

Laborious anxieties

Eris x Rhysand’s Sister!reader

Summary: based on this request - Eris is riddled with anxiety leading up to your labor, but what happens when some of his worst fears come to fruition?

Author’s note: this is technically a follow-up to A Starfall in Autumn, but could be read as a standalone 🥰 I kinda tore through writing this. I got the request at 7:45 and finished writing at 9:30. Forgive any spelling errors, I have ✨sick brain✨

Warnings: pregnancy, labor, blood loss

The last two weeks of your pregnancy had been a time riddled with anxiety.

You were fine - it was Eris who was unable to stay calm. It felt like a stranger was consuming your mate’s body the way nervousness radiated off of him these days.

And the way he clung to you was very unlike him.

He stepped back from High Lord duties for at least a month, delegating responsibilities amongst his brothers and advisors. He receives a summary of the day’s activities during dinner, and except for a trade agreement his brother signed that was less than advantageous for Autumn, everything was running fine.

Which meant your mate could spend all of his time worrying about you, following you around. He’d gotten so absurd he began having his hounds check you for any abnormalities, doing a ‘daily check’ where they sniffed you to ensure you were okay.

The moment you had told Eris of your pregnancy, his joy was very quickly eclipsed by his very sudden interest in providing you with more security. You had been able to talk him down from the initial twelve guards he wanted trailing you at all times to two guards and at least two of the hounds.

“One hound will stay and defend me, the other one will find you,” you had argued. He relented, but as you got closer and closer to your due date, his attempts at renegotiation were increasing by the day.

You had now agreed to four guards and six hounds with you at all times, unless you were with him.

Between the massive bump on your belly that makes maneuvering around very difficult and the entourage you’d have to take, you opt more often than not to stay in your chambers for most of the day.

One of Autumn’s advisors had suggested the birth be a public spectacle, and Eris grabbed him by the back of his shirt and threw him out of the room, stating, “you’ll be allowed back in when you’ve recovered from your sudden onset stupidity.”

You were glad, because even laboring privately didn’t keep it from being quite the spectacle. Three high lords were to be in Autumn around the birth: your brother, Rhysand, and Eris’s brother, Lucien.

Lucien offered to be available to you in any way he can be, so you took him up on that offer and begged him to take your mate away for an hour or so every day.

So every day at an hour past noon, Lucien would retrieve Eris, and they would play some sporting game they invented when Lucien was a child. They tried explaining it to you, but it never made any sense to you, so you opted to just let them enjoy themselves.

Today, Eris was running through the halls of the Forest House, cursing himself for putting his chambers so deep inside. The house was more fortified the further in you went, with many foxholes that can take you throughout the court. Now it was just a pain to get back to his mate who was definitely not okay.

His fingers made quick work of ruining his hair, a light sweat coating his skin as he flung open the door, preparing for the worst.

Instead, he found his insufferable brother in law opposite you on the bed playing a card game.

“Hi Er,” you say, lighting up at the sight of him, but quickly going back to the cards in your hand, determination in your features.

Clover, the eldest hound and your personal favorite, currently had her head resting against your bump. Her eyes tracked the room, searching for any movement that could be perceived as a threat. Her tail wagged softly at Eris’s entrance, but she remained fixed, guarding your unborn babe.

“Hi Er,” Rhys offers, not glancing up from his cards, “did you run here or do you get winded from these elaborate halls?”

Eris straightens his vest, closing the door behind him as he walks further into the room. “Someone was sending some very distressed signals down the bond.”

He keeps his eyes on you as your face softens, “oops, I was so focused on our game, I didn’t mean to. It’s just not fair because he cheats!”

“I have done no such thing! How dare you accuse a high lord of such a crime?”

You stick your tongue out at him, which he immediately returns. Eris rolls his eyes, well aware of how being around your brother turns the two of you into children. He heads into your private chambers, heading towards the bathroom to bathe.

After bathing and putting on fresh clothes, Eris is about to head back to the two of you, when he hears your soft voice whisper through the door, “I miss mother.”

He’s sure you’re curled up into Rhysand, peering into the violet eyes you both inherited from her. He turns back into the chambers, allowing the two of you to share your grief. As he retreats he does hear, “but I’ll have Eris’s mother. She’s not, y’know, but she’s great. If I can’t have mother, she’s a great stand-in.”

He smiles to himself, finding the book on his bedside table, and settling into the couch, letting the two of you have your privacy.

-

Rhys travels between Autumn and Night every morning and every afternoon, keeping you company during the morning as you become more and more confined to your bedchambers.

You weren’t technically ordered for bedrest, but moving about was incredibly taxing for you, especially when trying to wrangle the large entourage Eris insisted on.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, Rhysand happened to be with you when your water broke.

Eris was at court settling a dispute between his idiotic advisors that they insisted required his input when Rhysand’s claws tapped his mind. Upon allowing him entry, he hears Rhysand’s voice trickle in.

It’s time.

-

Your contractions began, slow and unhurried, the cramping abismal. The contractions came quicker and quicker, time between shortening until your nursemaid tells you to start pushing.

You cry out as you do so, an intense pain coming from your pelvis. They tell you to stop, as they check to ensure your dilated enough to continue.

They motion for you to continue, but the pain only gets worse.

“She’s tearing dramatically,” one of the nurses says.

“What does that mean?” Rhys asks, holding your hand.

“Her circulation’s poor, likely because of the bedrest. She’s losing a lot of blood from these tears.”

Eris felt the primal rage of the mating bond heating his blood. They were talking about his mate in such a sterile, clinical way. Eris bared his teeth at them, but they did not back down, they would not back down, even to the commanding presence of multiple high lords.

“I need the two of you to leave, now. I need to focus, and I can’t do that with two high lords breathing down my neck.”

“Everyone here has her best interest at heart - I promise you, high lords, we will do our best for her,” another nursemaid says.

Eris’s eyes are fixed on your pale face, drained of any color. He doesn’t feel Rhys’s arm wrap around him, dragging him out of the room, nor does he feel the wall Rhys presses him against, giving him something to support his weight.

He can’t let that be the last memory he has of your face.

Lucien is in the hall, and Rhys is updating him on how much blood you loss. “Can’t Feyre’s blood heal? Can she come help?”

Eris snaps his eyes up to Rhysand, whose eyes have a vaguely glossy look to them.

“Please, Rhys.”

Eris did not beg. He accepted the hands he was dealt. He did not plead with his father, as the whip would strike his back. He did not plead with the Mother when he had to chase Lucien into Spring. He did not plead with the Cauldron or the stars asking for help.

But he would ask Rhysand.

“She’s on her way, she just has to get someone to care for Nyx.”

“Hel, she can bring Nyx and I can care for him,” Eris offered, reaching out to hold tightly onto that golden string connecting the two of you.

Rhys’s eyebrows raise, but Lucien cuts in, “brother, you are in no state to watch over a young child.”

“Since when have you had any experience with young children?”

Lucien balks, “the children of Spring were quite fond of me.”

Eris smirks, “pity the children of the court you preside over do not feel the same.”

Lucien is about to bite back when Rhys comes back to them.

“Okay, she’ll be here any minute now.”

Eris hated to do it, tampering with the wards of the Forest House to allow any member of your family entry in the past month.

Never has he been so grateful he did something he so staunchly opposed when Feyre appeared in front of them, a cooing Nyx in her arms that she quickly hands off to Lucien. She briefly lets her hand touch Rhys’s shoulder as she nods to Eris before running into the room.

Lucien holds Nyx, the young toddler providing amusement to the three high lords.

“Do you have a name?” Rhys asks, trying to distract Eris from the nervous meltdown he understood all too well.

“For a girl, we like Hestia Seline.”

Rhys’s eyes snap up, but Eris continues.

“Some ancient humans believed in multiple gods, one of which was the goddess of the hearth, Hestia. And Seline for..”

He gestures towards Rhys, letting his sentence finish there.

“You would allow a Vanserra to be named after my mother?”

Eris nods, “if she insisted,” a finger was pointed to the door you lay behind, in what condition Eris had no idea, “I’d let her name a Vanserra ‘Rhys Azriel Vanserra.”

Rhys grins, “but not Cassian?”

“We all must draw lines somewhere, Rhysand.”

Lucien hoists Nyx up into the air, his little wings fluttering, and Eris watches.

“I helped raise all of my brothers,” he states to no one in particular. “It would have been utter carnage if they had wings.”

“And Cassian only makes it worse.”

“Color me surprised. Don’t allow him home alone with Nyx, I’m sure he’ll throw him from your tallest balconies.”

Rhysand breathes through his nose, and Eris knows there’s a great possibility it is something that has already happened.

“What if it’s a boy?” Rhys asks, “you have Hestia Seline.”

“Jasper Camden.”

“Didn’t want another Beron around?” Lucien asks, pushing Nyx into the air on one arm.

“The day I give a child that name is the day I have been possessed.”

The conversation was helping distract Eris, but he kept a tight hold on the bond, ensuring you felt him no matter what.

Eris feels intense pain through the bond, and without thinking, he shoots up off the ground, and opens the door, promptly running into one of the nursemaids.

“High lord, she’s pushing again. The tears were healed, and she’s doing much better. I was just about to get you.”

He comes over to you, holding one of your hands. Feyre was tightly holding your other, holding a damp cloth to your forehead.

“Hello, my love.”

Eris isn’t sure when he started crying, but he knew he was when you smiled back at him, color back to your beautiful face.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m a vampire now- ah!”

You breathe out slowly, and Feyre begins whispering words of encouragement to you.

“But my dear, you love the sun too much.”

You nod as you push, and the nurse tells you you can stop for a moment. You catch your breath, looking towards your mate.

“But I would have really cool fangs. I could taste your blood.”

He strokes the back of your hand, kissing your palm. “Anything you want, my love.”

Your labor continued, much faster now as you held onto Feyre and Eris’s hands, frequently apologizing if you break any fingers.

Eris never got to be around for this part. He was always kept in front of closed doors, anxiously waiting for his next brother, uncertain as to his mother’s state. His anxiety reprieved only hours after the actual labor, when he was allowed to visit his mother and new brother.

Now he was here, the bond thrumming between you two, as he got to hear the first cries of his babe. You almost fall back in exhaustion as your babe slides out, but Eris slides behind you, allowing you to rest against his chest.

He holds your sweaty face in his hands, hair damp, kissing your forehead, telling you how proud of you he was and how incredible you were.

The two of you listen to your babe’s cries as the nursemaid brings the babe to you, placing them on your chest.

Every exhalation is accompanied by a wailing too large for the small body as they breathe air into their lungs for the first time.

Eris places a hand on the babe’s back, hoping they’ll remember his touch from the womb. The babe was covered in birth, but Eris didn’t care. He knew being around for this part was a privilege he had never been afforded before.

He kisses your head again, as the nursemaid smiles at the two of you.

“It’s a boy.”

[mehiwilldoitlater]

Black Cloud, Red Fire (Part 1)

((The beginning))

(part 2) (part 3)

Black Wind Mountain.

Once a temple in the forest, full of prayers, life, and worshippers. Now, a lair for Yougais and their master.

Everything was silent, except for the song of nature that made that place almost harmless. Untill the sound of panting, foot on the Rocky pavement, and broken leaves emerged.

"Ugh...I should have done cardio...UFF!"

The Destined One, the monkey that had convinced you to follow him, stopped on his tracks to look at his surroundings and gave you the time to catch up. He snickered a little, looking how disappointed you were after the climb on the side of the mountain. He offered you his hand, allowing you to avoid a few more steps before reaching him.

"Not a very outdoor one, uh?"

"I'm more...sitting on the couch person."

"What's a couch?"

"Something BEAUTYFULL....wow..."

You would never get used to the view here: from where our eyes could reach, there was just forest. The mountains were covered in it, and so were the few hills that appeared, giving you almost the idea that you were walking on the backs of thousands of sleeping giants. Here and there, you were able to spot the roof and the spires of small pagodes and temples.

Some prove that once these places were abitated or at least visited by humans and mortals. 

Now, the old structures were black and decaying, a sign that a fire had started so many years ago and what couldn't be saved was left to the wilderness. You both avoided those structures, finding them quite crumbling and dangerous, but nothing stopped you from admiring them.

The air was rarefied, giving you some trouble breathing and forcing you to make more deep inhales. Your companion, used to the high place of birth, had no issues at all, but he gave you the chance to rest and get used to the altitude.

"It feels so unreal... it's like a painting."

"You don't have places like these in your world?"

"Well yeah, but... not so beautiful like this one."

It was even funny to believe that such a beautiful place like this one could hold such dangers as the Yaoguais or whatever was holding the relic of the Great Sage. After another few minutes of adjusting, the two of you continue your way inside the woods, leaving behind the security of the open space.

The light was dim despite the sun high in the sky; the thick of the branches was mostly the cause of it. Walking near your companion, you started to notice how hard it would become trying to look in front of you or even notice the presence of whatever could attack you both.

"Su-sure, this place is...dark."

"Umm.. stay close, okay?"

You pick up the peace, holding tight to your snack on your back, regretting that you didn't ask for a weapon before leaving Mount Huaguo.

"Hely, listen..." You finally spoke up after a few minutes. "Are you sure that the relic is in this...very lovely and absolutely not filled with dangers?"

"Ummm...i guess?"

"YOU GUESS?!" Your voice echoed in one second through the forest; a few birds flied away, afraid of the sudden change. The monkey instantly shushed you.

"We're in enemy territory!"

"...You guess?! You don't know if it's here?!"

You were FURIOUS. Not only they started to blabber about you being some kind of being that were supposed to help them bring back an old legend, almost forcing you to participate, and now the same one that convinced you to give a try to this damn plan that could maybe bring you back home is unsire if that damn thing is in that damn forgotten place?! After that long road?! You really wanted to take that staff of his and smash it on his head! He shushed you again, trying to calm you down to avoid calling too much attention to you two.

"Okay, I know, this sounds crazy, but I can assure you that we have ideas! Firstly, there's a dangerous amount of Yaoguais in this area, and second, did you remember that funny little game that we did back at our mountain?"

"You mean me pointing my finger to a random place on a map just because I felt a tingle in my stomach?"

"Yup." Your eyes widened so much that you could feel your eyelash touch your forehead. You wanted to scream so hard that even whatever gods lived up there could hear you, but before you could, the monkey putted his hand on your mouth.

"There, there, let it all out," he said, while you were just muffling your scream on his hand. When you finally were finished and your breath was out, he removed his hand from your face, allowing you to mumble some curses under your breath.

"So we could be somewhere and find nothing?"

"Or we could be in the right place!"

You grumbled again, now more worried than before about your return to your original world. He sighed. Of course this was absurd to you; everything was, but you needed to trust him a little.

"I know it's hard, but... I believe in you. I know we're on the right path!"

"At least one of the two does..." You mumbled, kicking a rock near you, scratching your arm a little. You really wanted to believe him and in you, but to you, it was just so difficult to do it, especially since you were a complete no one...They all tell you you were some kind of powerful thing, this Bián huá, and yet you couldn't believe a single thing like this.

Looking at you, he guessed that you were still having doubts. He opened his mouth to say something when-

"On the go, bent the toe,

Life of a human, all for gold."

A voice, not far from you both, could be heard from your position. Someone was coming! The monkey looked at you, and a mischievous grin appeared on his face.

"Go and hide in the bush! I'll show you what I can do!"

You fastly follow his instructions, hiding behind some bushes on your right, while the voices get closer and closer. The monkey suddenly vanished under a cloud, only to be replaced with a ripe peach! What's he doing now? On the clearing, just when the smoke disappeared, appeared two... wolves?

They were walking on their two back legs, and like humans, they were wearing some clothes and holding their furr on their heads like some human hairstyles. The both of them were holding a sword; maybe they were scouting the area for some food? You didn't know, but you were sure worried for your monkey! 

"Nowhere better than our home,

We cheat death and ever grow."

One of the two, the one that had his sword already drawn, noticed the fake peach on the ground, emitting a sound of surprise and showing a huge grin on his maw, and immediately went to take it in his paw.

"Here, you see? What bliss my fate shows!" How the hell that big dog was talking?!

"Well well! Luck's around the corner. Seems like it just fell from a fruit tree here." Said the other wolf, looking around in the search for the tree. You really hoped he didn't see you or smell you!

"Perfect timing! This peach knew I needed a snack!" And, after having cleaned it a little from the dust and played with it in his hand, the wolf took a huge bite on the fruit without a second guessing. In that moment, a cry of pain escaped from him, and he threw away the peach, alongside a few of his own teeth and some fur that the monkey must have pulled with it. Once on the ground, after a few jumps, the same smoke from before reappeared, and the fruit turned back to his simian original form.

"You sneaky rascal!" said the wounded wolf. "Dare to fool me?! I'll make sure you'll regret it!"

Before the two wolves could launch their attacks on the monkey, he had already drawn his own weapon from his ear and charged towards the two. You had seen him fight before, and it was always a show that left you in a haze. Violence wasn't a nice view, but his moves, his precision, his strength—it was surely something!

In a few minutes, the two wolves were already defeated and turned to dust, and you reemerged from your hiding spot.

"Wow...that's what you could only say.

"See? told you I could protect you."

"Well, you surely could... but the transformation was really necessary?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by someone.

"No matter how many times you come around. You are still as mischievous as ever, eh?"

An old voice suddenly started to be heard. It was an old one, cranky, and somehow friendly. The both of you started to look around, only to find only trees, rocks, and falling leaves. The monkey immediately came closer to you, looking around and sniffing, but beside the smell of the two wolves, there was nothing—just nature.

"Did...you hear that?" 

"Yer," he said, guarding you.

"Good! I'm not crazy then!"

"And there's the Bián huá! All of you, always doubting your own security!"

You gulped loudly; he could hear you?! But that means he's near?! Then why even the monkey couldn't spot this mysterious old man?!

"Looks... looks like someone is watching us..."

"Um..." he looked at you, noticing your now frightening look, your eyes searching for the source of the voice. He held your hand in his own, gently giving you a small pull. "Came one. I'm sure that we'll find who's talking up ahead."

And so, the two of you started to take the road from where the two wolves had come from, realizing then that, if there was something, it was supposed to be there for sure. The more you started to clumb the path of the mountain, more enemies started to come. They were all wolves, and all of them were supposed to be the front guard of this mysterious place that, for some reason, started to make you feel... uneasy. 

You couldn't put your hands on it, but it reminded you of the strange feeling in your stomach, yeah, the map one. Only that, this time, became stronger and stronger the more you two explored the mountain.

After another turn, the smell of incense reached both of you, and a small smoke caught your attention. Two fires were located at the sides of a small structure, a house in miniature. The closer you get, the more it becomes clear that it was a small shrine, far more detailed and more decorated than the one that you saw on Mount Huaguo. Suddenly, just like before, the same old voice started to ring again around you two.

"Aaah! Wha-what are you waiting for?! Pluck your hair and make an offer!"

You looked at the monkey, raising an eyebrow.

"...Uh...my hair?"

"There." He showed you that, after taking a few hairs from his head, their form changed into a thin and long incense stick that he lit with a few movements of his hand.

"See?"

"I can't do that. Mine is normal hair."

"Ooo, stop making silly excuses! Try it on!"

"Okay okay okay! Geez, I can't believe that I'm listening to a mysterious voice."

You imitated the same motion of the monkey, and, after a small glow, in your hand there was the same incense stick!

"But... did I do that?!"

"See? Always questioning! Now hurry up! Both of you!"

You both put the incense stick inside the small pot full of sand, and, as one surprise wasn't enough, another magic happened in front of you: the decoration of the shrine started to grow like branches, and, in a swirl of petals, pink peach flowers started to bloom under your eyes.

"It's...normal?"

"In some places, yes..."

"...So,...what now?" The monkey shrugged off at your question and made a few steps ahead. Before you could follow, the voice called upon you two once again.

"Hey! Wait!"

A smoke, just like the one that has been summoned by your monkey companion when he transformed, appeared again, but this time in front of you there was what reminded you of an old potato.

He was what you could imagine to be the personification of the concept of old. His legs and arms were so thin that it was strange that he could even move; his bald head, covered in some strange bumps similar to some roots, was covered in wrinkles and some spots here and there; and the white hairs that happened to be his eyebrows and beard covered his facial features that made it hard to see his eyes and mouth.

His robes, tinted in a deep blue, seemed quite elegant, despite their age. His weight was supported by an old wooden staff, curved to the end, and in his other hand a small stick. Does it remind you of a back scratcher?

"I, the keeper of Black Wind Mountain," he said while coughing, cleaning his clothes from the dust. "I have long been waiting for your arrival."

That old voice—he was the one that spoke to you before in the clearing! That old, small thing was the keeper of this mountain?! 

"Let's see... the new Bián huá, eh? Well, you seem in good health," he said while pointing your side with his scratchback. "It will compensate for the lack of faith."

"Hey!" you ward off the wooden object while his continuous touch started to bother you.

"And she has some character on her, a good starting point..and you..." His eyes fell on the monkey, the destiny one. For a moment you feared that he could fall on his old and be ready to crash back, but he regained his stability in a few steps.

"Oh! His spitting image...I'd say."

Of who? You looked at the monkey, and he seemed almost proud? Was the keeper talking about... Sun Wukong? Well, all monkeys looked the same to you, so maybe it was the old age that talked...

"You were waiting for...him?" You pointed at the monkey; the old man just laughed a little at your naiveté.

"Child, I was waiting for both of you! For the Destined one and the Bián huá!" He walked over you two, pointing at the passage that extended ahead of you, between the rocks and the trees.

"Up ahead is Guanyin Temple. Once, it was bustling with worshippers before it was ruined by that fire."

His tone, before proud of the past of the place, became grave when he pointed at the proof of the tragedy that had happened there: skulls, human skulls. Come to think of it, those weren't the first you saw in the area... How many people had died there?

"What...fire?"

"You said you heard of the story, right?" The monkey said, recognizing what the old man was talking about, "You remember about the Elder Jinchi and the Kasaya?"

You pondered a little. You weren't that costumed about it, but you know that, perhaps, that was the cause of the fire.

"Yes, children..." said the keeper, pointing up ahead. "Then the temple was rebuilt." He suddenly turned to you, expressing a questioned and angry tone, "But what good is it to rebuild a temple if the good will of men has been burned to ashes?"

You kneeled near one of the skulls. It was so...small...the fear of the age of the one that once was in front of you struck you.

"But...it was rebuilt...then why the Yaoguais are here?" The monkey spoke, looking at the old man, still curious about the whereabouts of the temple.

"Monks came, men too, and they tried to rebuild life here! But that bear...he led his minions here!....Who couldn't escape had faced a bitter end."

"But...you're the keeper of this place...the deity of the mountain..." you finally spoke, following the step of the monkey. "You could take care of them, right? There as to be some way to fix this place!"

"I would! But that damn bear...he had brought something so powerful that even I couldn't match!"

Something that he couldn't match?... The eyes of the monkey gleamed, looking up at the mountain.

"The relic...it must be the relic!" He turned to you, ejoyed by this news: "You were right! You foudn it!"

"I...found it?" You repeated, "I... did! I did! ...oh...."

You soon realized what that meant, and suddenly, another sound emerged from the dark. A long, strong, and eerie howl of something that scared even the keeper and manmy birds that had already flied away from their previous location.

"You forgot this place," said the keeper, retreating away from the passage, "but they haven't forgotten you!"

You stod in your position, scavared by the sudden change of atmosphere, while the monkey observed the passage with caution, expecting everything to appear from it at any given moment. The old man, like he had appeared, disappeared in the cloud of smoke.

"That's a tough one. Good luck to you!"

And these were his last words, before you and your companion were left alone again. More than before, you felt an amount of emotion that you couldn't describe, but when you looked at the road where you came from, some doubts arose in you. The monkey noticed your fear, and he waited for your reaction.

Despite the desire to run, you simply couldn't. You stayed there, eyeing the entrance and your only way out. When you finally turned to the entrance, where you sure didn't want to go, you gulped.

"There's no turning back from there...right?" The monkey sighed; he wanted to tell you that you could just turn back and that he could handle it, but he couldn't say that; he knew that it was a lie.

This was supposed to be made in two.

"If you don't trust in yourself... then trust in me... trust in my ability."

He lends his hand towards you... and, with fear, doubt, and so many regrets, you take it, slowly entering the passage alongside him.

///

From that moment on, the forest became full of wolves. It was hard to advance without encountering a new enemy, and every time your companion never showed a moment of stress or panic, he only charged, attacking those enemies without trace of fear. Your only option, by your side, was to stand back, hide, or just... watch. You couldn't do more...even if, isnide, it made you quite nervous.

"Don't you get tired?"

"No, I've been doing this since I was a cup!"

"I wish I could help more." You scratched your arm again; it must have been a sign that showed your stress he had noticed. He just packed your back, swinging his tail.

"If you like, I can teach you a few tricks! Once we're back home with the relic, we'll have plenty of time!"

"You...would?" It felt nice. He didn't show off your anxiety about your role in that mission; instead, he just wanted to help you get confidence by taking some steps ahead. It was a nice gesture, even if you were quite unsure about if it could really help you.

"Of course!" he laughed. "We're both in this!"

You nodded. It was true; you were both in that.

The sound of the water became of a falling one, a sign that the river nearby became a waterfall. You were walking by it, searching for a few herbs, when you both became interested in taking and collecting when you heard something else. Another voice; it wasn't from the keeper, of course, but it wasn't like the ones from the wolves either. To be fair, there were no wolves now that your companion had cleaned the area.

When the sound of the waterfall became stronger, that's when you noticed.

"Monkey! Look over there!" You finger pointed towards a figure. Curved on her back, her white, messy hair spiked the most on het dark attire. The clothes were old and raggy, and by the jiggle he was wearing some wooden jewels. The long and thin hair and his colorful muse give away immediately her species. Your companion suddenly came closer, looking where your finger was pointing, noticing the creature.

"A Mandrill! There near the edge of the waterfall!" You kept saying. You didn't know what she was doing; it seemed like she was searching for something or trying to collect it from a stone, quite big, that rested in the center of the stream. The low level of the water allowed the rock to be accessible to the mandrill, but she seemed like whatever she was trying to rescue was stuck or simply unavaible.

The baboon must have heard your voice, and suddenly she stopped his doing with the rock, spinning away from it. You gasped when you saw her launch herself to the cliff, moving forward. But when you reached the same edge, you saw nothing there.

"She should be at least around..."

"I don't think that was a simple Mandrill, Y/N." The monkey that had reached your side was in time to take you and pull you back from the edge, fearing a fall.

"Was she your friend? Do you know her?"

"I never saw her in my entire life. Hey, hold on!" He looked at you, his hand on his hips. "It's not like we monkey know each and every one of us!"

"Well," you keep it up, mimicking his gesture, "you called each other brother and sister! And meeting a familiar face wouldn't be so bad here!"

He chuckled, giving you a small push. Then, both of your eyes landed on the rock that the baboon was inspecting, and curiosity took over.

"What do you think she was doing?"

"Well, let's take a look!" He went closer to the rock, and there you both realized that it wasn't completely a rock. It was a head—a big rocky head—maybe one of a statue that once must have been a decoration of the long-lost temple. The expression of the man that was depicted was calm and relaxed, his earlobe long; maybe a Buddha? The monkey started to clean the area and noticed some scratching at the base of one of the closed eyes of the statue. It seemed like he was trying to make a hole in it...

"Maybe there's a switch or-" And just when your hand touched the statue, suddenly its eyes wide opened. One of the two cavities of pure stone, but the one where the Mandrill was scratching was hollow and contained something. A sphere, pure white, the only color a red must at the center, discolored by the time. It wasn't smooth at all, but at the touch it was perceptible—some spirals, decotrating the orb.

"...What is it?" You asked curious, tapping the orb with your finger.

"I don't know... but it seems important; let's keep it!" And so, the orb soon vanished inside his own sack.

"You surely are one that loves to collect staff around, eh?"

"Well, if something is useful..."

You chukled a little, leaving the stream at your back. Keep it up with your ascension on the mountain. It didn't take long that now you would face another obstacle, and oooh boy, what an obstacle!

Guarding the gate, a huge Yaoguais was holding a huge Helberd, moving back and forward, ready to strike whoever crossed his path, or it was unlucky enough to meet it. It reminded you of some kind of bull, but he was pretty messed up to be one... The thing that really concerned you was the fact that he was practically in front of the gate; it was impossible to miss without a fight. Hiding behind a tree, you looked at your companion, who, without if or but, just took his own staff, ready to get in action.

"Stay here; be careful not to be spotted and to run."

"Run?"

"Just in case, wish me luck!" and so he marched towards the bull that, as soon as he had spotted him, he followed his example.

The two started to clash their weapons immediately, and you could clearly see that the monkey had the advantage of his small stature and his agility. He avoided all of his attacks in a few steps, which made the bull upset and more aggressive. And the guai had one more thing in his arsenal: he was scarily strong. Despite his massive stricture, the guai was able to make some huge jumps, creating such waves in his impact that the monkey needed to be careful around to avoid falling down and became an easy prey.

Unfortunely, the monkey made a misstep: in the attempt of blocking the helberd, the bull struck with full force, catching the opponent like a rag doll, and, after a good spin to get velocity, slammed him on the ground. He rose his helberd, ready to stride.

"NO!"

You screamed, leaving the tree where you were hiding, but before something could happen, a golden aura wrapped around the bull and, just before his last strike over the monkey could be delivered, his entire body stopped. It wasn't just stopped because he had stopped the attack, but because his entire body was like frozen!

You immediately went to the monkey side, checking the damage from the last strike. He was incredibly untouched; the helbard must have struck him in the side where there was no blade and just acting as a hammer. His body may be fine, but he had felt that.

"Oh God, oh God, are you okay?!"

"Ugh...It...hurt!"

Maybe not lethal but a bruise really was surely ready to appear there. You grasped his gourd, helping take a sip of that strange magic juice that the old monkey entrusted you both to take in case of these kinds of damages. After a gulp, the monkey lamented the savor of the concuun, but he was fine at least!

"The bull?!" He looked at you, ready to defend you.

"Ehm ..."

You pointed at his opponent, Frozen in One Place. Then you heard some ruffles, some paint of fatigue, and...the keeper?!

Somehow, he had started to climb the bull back and, once reached its shoulder, he took a jump from it, falling on his two sticked legs. 

"It's been a while, but the Immobilize Spell still works like a charm!" He laiughed, clearly satisfied and somehow proud to show you both some of his own ability. You, on the other hand, were more interested in helping the monkey get back on his feet, preoccupied with finding more damages from the foe. Lucky for you, the juice was able to cure all of his wounds, even if the hurt of the strike still lingered.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes...huff, he almost got me..." He looked at the now immobilized bull, still ready to send his last strike on him. "A trick like this could be very useful around here."

"Well, since you hail from Mount Huaguo, it won't hurt to teach you a handy trick."

The monkey looked at him, still recovering from the fall, when the old man started to move his wooden hand around. It started to emit a soft light and some sparkle.

"Now, here we go; give me your hand!" And, without wait or but, the same small wand emitted a light that struck towards the monkey. You companion, fearing for another attack, immediately covered his face with his hand, but instead of pain, he felt... nothing?

Not nothing; he felt the same sensation when you pour warm water on your arm—harmless and somehow nice. He felt the sensation rise to his arm, to his shoulder, and then disappear, leaving only a sigyl on the palm of the same hand. You both noticed that it was the same symbol above the bull head.

"There you go, "continued the old man, while the two of you were observing the sign, in a mix of surprise and curiosity. "Should you come across any miscreants, just point your finger at them and release this spell. You'll be able to hold them in place while giving yourself a breather."

The monkey studied more his hand, carefully seeing the sign slowly disappearing on his skin, while you looked at the old man with a gleam of hope.

"It's going to come in handy around here!" said the monkey, his confident smirk coming back on his face.

"It would be so helpful if I could learn something like this too." 

"My child," said the old man, chukling at your naivety. "In this world, muscles and brute force are not the only weapons that you can possess!" And, knowing who you are, a spell like this is a joke for you!"

"I...can learn it too?" You looked at the bull, and, in a rush of courage, you took some steps in front of it.

You waved your hand in front of it and, noticing that it was pretty much impossible for it to move, you laughed, running back to your companion, who instintly put you behind him, like ready to defend you if that thing was ready to move again.

"It's amazing!" you said in joy. "With this trick, we can avoid so many fights!"

"Y/n," the monkey said to you, disconsolate," we can't just avoid every fight we have in front of us."

"He's not right, child," the old man sighed. "Sadly, mine is but an humble trick. Its power will wear off within a few short moments."

"Moments?!" you gulped, jumping back. "And when were you expecting to tell us that?!"

"I told you that it's not that simple!" Monkey came back to his fighting stance, while you took a step back, taking more distance from the upcoming fight.

"Ah ah, yes, yes, I know, not a great spell; thought it's good enough against boneheads like this one!" He pointed again to the bull with a teasing tone. "Anyway, just consider it an ace up your sleeve."

As soon as he finished his speech, the blow that was stopped suddenly crashed to the ground; the golden aura had dissipated from the bull, and it was angry.

The keeper was able to retreat from the scene, clearly shaken by the sudden release of the bull that now pointed to the monkey and you furious.

"The Yaoguais these days know no manners!"

"Y/n! Stand back!" His immediate thought came to your own safety; now the bull had seen you, and every chance could be good for it to attack you!

"FEAR NOT! "screamed the keeper to you and the monkey, "Teach him a lesson with your new spell!"

As soon as the old man had disappeared, the bull went on the offensive, more aggressive than he was before. You had to retreat as best as you could to avoid the fight and to be spotted by the giant creature. He needed more minutes to adjust to this new technique, but just when the bull tried to play the same trick from before, the monkey was ready and used the spell against it. 

It stopped! It was completely immobile! You gasped for the excitement, and, after the monkey had gifted you a small wink like to tell you to watch, he suddenly launched himself to his counterattack.

The bull was free after a few moves, but it was more shaken than before and pretty much hurt. He needed another good strike, but after that the monkey was able to put down his opponent and, just like the others, disappeared in a cloud of dust.

"You did it!" YOU DID IT! YOU USED THE SPELL!"

You jumped to him in joy; he freed the passage! And now he learned a new trick! He was just amazing!

He patted your shoulder, laughing a little like you, with a soft shade of red on his cheeks. "Yes, yes, I did it! But it's not over yet!"

He pointed to the now-opened passage—the road ahead of you.

///

"If it wasn't for the wolves ready to kill us, I would love to take a picnic here."

"Pic nic?"

"When you bring lunch outside and eat in the wild. I used to do it a lot when I went on the mountain to my grandparents during the summer."

Monkey seemed always interested in knowing your past; it seemed like, despite all, you had an almost normal childhood...noyt like its own...always training, always giving his best...well, he loved to make some pranks here and there, but the others had always considered him the responsible one of the bunch.

While walking, your attention was taken by an unusual sight: it must have been a balcony in the past; now what was left was only the old decoration of the door, the structure to the outside, and the wood that composed the floor. Two small pillars, decorated with two figures of what presumebly was Guanyin, were on the sides of a cushion and, in front of it, an incense holder.

"Someone use this place..."

"It must be a meditation point, to meditate...a great spot, even..."

You looked to the monkey; why so? It was in the middle of nowhere. By his looks, lost in the horizon, you followed his example. It was quite beautiful and calming. He then decided to take a place in the cuschion and ask you to follow him.

"Came on! It helps the mind!"

"I'll just watch. I'm not good alone with my thought."

"As you wish..."

His eyes closed, his face relaxed, like every muscle of his body. He seemed like a statue in that pose, and by how quickly he was able to communicate, or he needed a lot, or he just was used to that practice. You, instead, decide to sit at the edge of the structure, sighing and admiring the view.

He was right; it wasn't just beautiful; it was calming. You closed your eyes, letting the mountain breeze caress your cheeks and air, allowing it to enter your nostrils and your lungs.

You could hear so many things like that—the creaking of the wood, the howling of a few wolves in the distance, the leaves that moved in the branch—since when these sounds were so hard to listen to in your world?

In the distance, mountains could be seen, and, not far from your spot, structures that maybe once were habitated by humans and monks. Knowing that such a desolation happened in that place, yet nature decided to reclaim that portion of the world, taking back what had been taken away.

You sighed again, more air in your lungs...then a hand shaken you.

"Don't do this on the edge, at least! You can take a place near me!"

"You gave me a heart attack!"

"And how was I supposed to feel when I saw you there, ready to fall?!"

"Okay, I'm sorry! I'll do it with you next time!"

He seemed pleased; at least he wasn't obligated to catch you from a dead fall on a cliff!

"You were right. It's beautiful... Yaoguais aside."

"Yes, I don't know what's going to happen after we take the relic back from the Black Bear, but maybe things are going to get better."

"I just..." you scratched your arm. "I just hope the monks that died here can find a piece."

The image of that skull was still fresh in your mind. It scared you, yes, but it was most definitely sad. They must have been so scared alone. He looked at you with fondness; your thoughts decided to go to the ones that had suffered. You must have had quite a big heart. He took your hand, smiling.

"They'll be glad to know that we're taking care of this...now..." he pointed at two fires, both of the at the sides of a passage, an opening on the rocky walls of the mountain. "We must go. There's still a long road for us."

You nodded, and so you went back to your journey.

///

"We had to pass..."

"There are like...a LOT of wolves there, and I have a really bad feeling!"

"But we can't just stop here!"

"Well, we can't surely move forward like this?!"

Since he had made it clear that there was more enemy ahead, the two of you started to discuss what to do, but it seems like it was harder than you both thought. He sensed a lot of enemies ahead, and if he had to make a safe road, protecting you wasn't easy. You wanted to search a safe path, but there wasn't something like this right there, and he wanted to march in and take care of the problems right there.

"Listen, I'm going in."

"Monkey, please let's just-"

"Hey! Wait! You don't think you can just parade in, do you?! It's not that simple!"

As again, the old man had decided to appear and gave some help to the two of you. You gave a sigh of relief. Finally, that could actually listen to you!

"Finally! I was trying to tell him! We must take another path!"

"Dear one, there's no other path here!"

"Ah, ah!" the monkey smuggled on your face. "See? No path! ...So, any other suggestion, old keeper?"

"But of course I do! Let me transform you into a golden cicada, so you may follow the fires ahead and scout this mountain unnoticed."

He pointed to a series of fires that started to streech across the forest, a way to move across the darkness of the trees, especially during cloudy days or the night. With the same movements of his wand, the old man created the same light from the last time and, once again, struck the poor monkey.

"Wait wait! I can do it by my"

"FLY!"

"SELF!"

Like before, the poor monkey was completely helpless against the magic of the so helpful keeper, and instead of the young, bold monkey, now there was a small insect, with golden shades, flying around. The old man laughed, looking how confused the small cicada was trying to recall his surroundings. Now, there was this little inconvenience...

"But..." you pointed to your still humanoid body. "What about me?"

"Umm...a cicada is hard. You need a lot of control to move so many little arms and legs. Let's see. Let's see. Something simple, something helpless, something...ah!"

"Wait! Let me at least prepare my-"

Without a warning, you were the second victim of the Keeper magic, but you weren't what you were expecting. You looked at your now fluffy paw, a small cottontail, and very long ears.

"A rabbit?! Why can't I fly too?!"

"It's harder than it looks, child! Now, it might be humble, but my shrine is very versatile. You'll get it soon enough."

And, with these words, the Keeper disappeared in another cloud of smoke, leaving the cicada and the bunny alone.

"It's not fair. I wanted to fly too!"

"If it makes you feel better," said the cicada in a very pinch-high voice, "you look fluffiest than ever."

You two laughed a little before hearing for the last time the old Keeper.

"In the depths of Black Winf Mounain, there are secrets galore. These transformations may help you explore, but be wary; this form does not last forever."

"What do we do if we get lost?"

"Should you find yourself lost, just follow my voice. Now, off you go!"

You two looked at each other and, uncertain, started to move.

He had it easier; he could just fly around without getting spotted! You needed to act as natural as possible! Somehow, the wolves seemed more interested in cooking the ones that they already had than huunting you, so you were able to move around, alongside other bunnies and racoons, without fear of being taken.

When the two of you had the impossibilities to avoid the wolves, you were able to listen to them talk. It seemed that your presence in the mountain has been spotted, but they weren't sure of where you were or what your real intention was. As much as they knew, they only knew about a shapeshifter and a mortal alongside him. They also talked about a certain lord... maybe an affiliate of the bear?

Well, at least like that, you could avoid so many troubles... Somehow, you felt a little more safe in the shape of such a helpless animal. You both kept on going, following the fire as instructed, finding the way easier that you expected to find.

"Look! I can see the end of the trail of fire, Y/N!" The small voice of the monkey called you out from the bushes, pointing with his antennea at what was supposed to be the less populated area.

"Finally, being a bunny is... not... so."

You felt something inside you. You felt...a calling. 

You turned around; there was another of those old porches, one that the fire had only ruined but not destroyed. You looked in that direction, and you were sure it came from there.

"We just need to cross; we're so...Y/N?"

You weren't anymore near the bushes, so he got closer and started to roam the small area.

"Y/n? Y/N?!" He called, louder this time and much more worried. He couldn't see you. Where did you go?! Why did you leave all of a sudden?!

You couldn't hear his call; there was something else that held your attention. It was the same pull in your chest that called you towards the relic, but it was...different. It felt like stagnant water, a mix of smells that you couldn't quite get. 

It was a large clearing; the wall of the mountain and a cliff, secured with a parapet, gave them a natural circular shape. Besides trees and plants, fog covered the area, hiding a wooden structure in the same area. You couldn't put your hand on it, but something was there—something big and round. You jumped closer, not noticing the aura of fiery eyes looking at your every movement. Before you could get closer, a large pressure came to your delicate neck; a hand with a sharp claw had you now in his clutches. 

"Well, well... and what do we have here?

Avoiding screaming helped you to keep your bunny form, but you couldn't hold a gasp when you saw the wolverine creature that was holding you by your neck. Now you were in big trouble!

The wolf was different from the other; he seemed older and calmer. His robe reminded you of one of a monk, but it was so old and lacerated. His old mansion was so ruined, almost burnt here and there. Despite his strength, his claw gently held you and took you in his arm, holding you in place. You felt his rough fingers scratching your head, confusing you more than before.

"It's not a safe place for a small one like you. Humans and wolves love eating your flesh. I used to eat your kind when I was younger; now I can only remember the hunt."

Oh, so he didn't eat bunnies? He could have eaten humans, though.

Besides him, a long staff was stuck into the ground, a double blade to each end. You noticed now that the blade was strange in certain places; it seemed like it had burned. Now, in his arms, you could see clearly what was holding the structure: a bell, a giant bell made of iron.

It was simple, besides the decorations, like many other bells around... then why you seemed to be pulled by it.

You jumped from the wolf arms, sniffing and getting closer to the giant metal object.

"I never saw bunnies interested in bell... I suppose to guard it...but you don't look like a treat."

Well, not now at least.

You made another jump, much closer; now your small paw was able to reach the bell when, in your head, his sound started to echo so hard that it was painful.

Your body couldn't handle it, so you scream, holding your small rodent head in those paws, scaring the wolf, and, with any chance to control it, the pain forced you to release your true form.

You were still holding your head when you noticed the wolf, now holding his weapon.

"You... you tried to trick me, human?!" You gulped and tried to get back, finding yourself stuck between the wolf and the bell.

"I-i didn't-" Then, a sound or rustling and footstep caught your and the wolf's attention.

"Who goes there?! How dare you interrupt my meditation?"

And so, the face of a very worried monkey appeared from the fog and the shadow, looking at you with apprehension by your vicinity with the Yaoguai. The wolf looked at him, and a small smile came to his face, far more sinister than the one that he had shown you before.

"Hmmm...another monkey I see?" He asked, almost happy to see him. The blade in his hand started to change; it became red like it was on fire. Hold on, IT WAS ON FIRE!

"Why don't you lay down your weapon and join me in Buddha's mercy?" His weapon had made a few swifts on the ground; the dead leaves, the herbs, and whatever that thing was touching suddenly started a small fire, separing you from your companion.

"What say you?!"

He needed to connect; the wolf was already on his tail when he marched on! He needed to get you out of there before the fire could reach you; luckyly, you took cover behind the giant bell! Maybe he had time; he just needed to calm him down before it was too late!

That wolf was old, but he was a formidable foe! His swing was like he had never seen anyone do it, and every strike was precise and destructive. It was just like a fire; you couldn't control it; you could just watch and hope it doesn't destroy more.

But he needed to fight that fire!

He used the spell that the keeper had taught him and started again to attack his opponent. Sometimes, out of the blue, the wolf was able to persome formidabvòe aerial attacks, where even the monkey found trouble defending himself. Sometimes he was even able to rush like he could fly, and the fire just made him stronger.

Fighting him wasn't easy, but with the help of the spell and the fact that his own technique didn't need too much energy to be imposed, the monkey was soon the victorious one of the duels.

The wolf fell on the ground, covered in bruises and blood; his fur was now more burned than before. His eyes cast between you, now free to move while the monkey was killing the fire, and his opponent.

"You..." His voice was in pain, the last stray of strength only to talk, "Master spoke of you."

And while he started to disappear, three last words came from his mouth.

"The Destined...one..."

Peace came back in the clearing. 

You looked at where the wolf had disappeared, asking yourself how much his master knew about you two, about what happened there, and..the hand of the monkey slapped your head.

"Don't run off like that again!"

"Ouch! It wasn't my fault!"

"Yeah! Some strange magic led you here?!"

"..."

"...Seriously?"

You sighed; of course it was crazy, but it was true! Something called you here to do...something!

"I'm sorry...it just...something is strange... I don't know what's happening in me."

The monkey looked at your face. You were so concentrated, your hand caressing the carving of the metal face of the giant object. He wasn't used to bell like this; his own hand caressed the wooden trunk made to play the instrument.

"...Monkey?" He looked at you and said, "We should play it."

"No way! They'll spot us!"

"We're already on everyone's agenda! Please! I... I need it." You please.

He sighed, ready to regret every moment of this. He needed just a swing of the trunk when the sound of the bell started to resonate on the entire aura—on the mountain itself.

Then something else happened. Everything got dark; it was a forest, like the one you and your companion were planting—a child—he was alone. Many people were dying there; something had to hunt them down!

No! You must run! The bear! The bear is... giving him... jewels?

The sun rises, the monastery...

When you woke up from the trance, the monkey had to catch you before falling from the scaffold of the bell.

"Y/n! What's happening?! Are you okay?!"

You just moved your head, confused, scared...was that a vision? It was an old memory? The stagnant water now was moving; a rotting smell came to you.

"You just had to make some noise, did you?!" The voice of the Keeper came back again. He seemed stressed; the sound had scared some birds too. "Now everyone knows you're here! When a chime so grand echoes in the forest, Yaoguais will surely be alarmed!"

He was right; the monkey was able to sense the hair change now. The road was getting just more difficult...

"I'm sorry. I asked him to do it."

"Child, why asking for such a thing?!"

"....I....i'm sorry..."

The monkey couldn't stay angry with such a hurt expression in front of him...but why do you need it? And what did you see? Holding you in his arms, he started to head back to the road.

@crimsonflameproxy @everlastingmoonlightsworld @theactualgir

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[surielstea]

Ruined Ice

Pairing: hockey!Azriel x figure skater!Reader (fem)

Summary: Az shows up early for practice and catches reader in the middle of her program, rutting up the fresh ice.

Warnings: cursing | name calling | fluff

A/N: Guys I know nothing about hockey or figure skating so please don’t come for me if some of this is wrong lmao 😭

2.3k words

The blades on the bottoms of my skates could cut through steel they were so sharp. I had made the mistake of running my thumb pad across the toepick and nicked my skin, no bigger than a paper cut but I barely even touched the metal before blood began to bead at where it had made contact.

My mood, however, was improved to its full extent when I stepped onto the ice and realized it was untouched.

I beam wildly as I begin to glide on my smooth blades around the rink, beginning my warm-ups and leaving light trails with every move I make.

Warming up took a quarter of my rented time in the rink, and the next two quarters were spent practicing my program. The state tournament was close, and approaching all too fast. My coach wasn’t able to make it tonight, yet he practically ordered me to practice anyway. I wasn't complaining, well I had been, but on this fresh ice with the cold wind nipping at my cheeks in an empty rink, I had never been more at peace.

That was the case, at least until the Hockey Players began showing up for their practices. I still had fifteen minutes left of ice time but none other than the infamous Azriel Teller was lacing up his skates on the sidelines, staring at me as I went through my routine, doing my best to ignore his gaze.

It was hard though, the man was so damned observant and I swore I could feel his eyes tracking me across the ice.

I finish my routine in my final pose, heavy breaths escaping me as I let the stance fall and I go back to my phone on the side of the wall where I can restart my music.

My phone that happened to be right in front of Azriel.

I ignored his stare and kept my eyes on the wall, making sure to go slow, knowing my freshly sharpened skates would force me straight into the wall if I went any faster.

I grab my phone with cold hands but before I even get the chance to unlock it, the male in front of me speaks up.

"You're ruining the ice," He hums and I look up from my phone, glaring at him, silently asking him if he was serious.

"Your whole team ruts up the ice every chance you get, don't start," I wave him off, scrolling through my phone to find a song to cool down to since my ice time was coming to an end.

"We rut the ice? You and your fancy twirls practically make holes straight through," He defends and I wince because I knew he was right. Especially since my skates were extra sharp tonight.

"It's not my fault you can't evade them like some bad skater," I taunt, picking a song and letting it blast over the speakers to drown him out as I skate away.

Calling Azriel a bad skater was absurd, he must've been the fastest on the ice when compared to the rest of his team, not to mention his accuracy when it came to scoring goals was outmatched. I had heard from Feyre— my best friend who was dating the team captain, that Azriel was the brains for the whole team as well, always the one planning the strategic plays, but apparently, he wasn't allowed to be a captain since he got into one too many fights during his first season.

When my cooldown music ended, mostly everyone else on the Velaris Bats had shown up for practice, staring at me as I stretched my leg up beside my head like I was an animal in the zoo. I still had five minutes left of ice time, so I made sure Azriel was watching when I practiced doing my ‘fancy twirls’, the exercise had exhausted me but it was worth it to see the look of silent rage on his face.

I continued to grin, using him as my spot as I whipped around in the air and landed gracefully down onto the ice, at such an angle that it left a horrid chip in the ice I'd have to avoid for the rest of my routine.

I spot some of the other boys noticing this as well, scowls on their faces as I give them a wink before they rush off to what I assume is the locker room to get their equipment.

Again, leaving only Azriel and I. He steps onto the ice before my time is up and I glide past him with a smirk and he returns it, something in his gaze telling me he knew something I didn't.

I brush it off and continue with my spins and jumps.

I had just come out of a lutz with enough momentum to push a boulder down a hill when suddenly all the lights in the rink shut off. I freeze, my legs buckling at the sudden change, my eyes not used to the atmosphere and before I know it I'm speeding towards a wall, incapable of scrambling to a stop on my skates that were far too sharp.

I shrieked, attempting to pivot on my toepick but it only sent me tumbling forward. I blanch at the realization that I was about to slam into the ice over such an amateur move.

But before I make contact with the frozen ground, hands come to my waist and pull me away from my sudden doom. I gasped, catching my breath as a figure steadied me, gliding along the ice along with me until I managed to come to a stop.

I look up to my savior only to find Azriel standing in front of me, his hands still on my waist as if we were pair skaters. Why was he so effortlessly graceful in the rink?

"Thanks," I mutter, my skates making a crisp sound as they halt against the ice.

"Don't thank me, it was my teammates who turned off the lights," He said, looking down at me, his hands still on my waist as we stood in the center of the rink with the lights shut off.

With the absence of his pads, I could feed his abdomen pressed to my chest, I had been panting from my restless jumps but he hadn't seemed affected when he saved me, like he knew I'd panic.

"Still, I can't afford to get any more bruises," I say through heavy breaths. He cracks a smile.

"I know the feeling," He hums, making no move to let go of my waist, and I'd be lying if I said he wasn't heavily supporting my tired limbs at the moment.

"Usually I'm better at stopping, I just got my blades sharpened," I explain and he arches a brow, his gaze almost amused.

"You don't have to make excuses, Princess, you could just admit you wanted to be in my arms," He taunts and I roll my eyes, pushing him away to which he glides back.

"Quit calling me that," I toss at him as I slowly make my way off the ice, returning to the solid ground as I put on the guards over the blades of my skates. Snow Princess had been my stage name when I was younger, it was my mom's choice, and I had been happy with it at the time, Azriel liked to remind me of it every waking moment he saw me, in fact, I couldn't remember the last time he called me by my actual name.

"Not in a million years, Princess," He continues his teasing and I huff, untying my laces and shucking my blades off, favoring a pair of tennis shoes that felt like walking on clouds compared to the tightness of my skates.

The lights turn back on and I look out at the rink, seeing just how much damage I did with my turns. I smile in triumph as I watch Azriel avoid the chips in the ice as he practically soars throughout the rink.

The rest of the players came out onto the ice only a moment later while I shrugged my coat on, losing interest in the others once it wasn’t just Azriel. They had all pushed him off the rink, telling him to hurry up and change so they could start practice already.

I ignore their raucous laughter and crude words as I make my way into the locker rooms, eager to get my stuff and then go home. I could already feel my legs aching with soreness and it's barely been a few minutes off the ice.

I opened my locker just as Azriel strolled in.

I hadn't known his locker had been situated directly next to mine until he opened it and took out all his pads and equipment, then, right then and there to my utter shock he began changing right in front of me.

"You know there's changing rooms, right?" I avoid looking at him, my eyes pinned straight to my locker as I clean it out, stuffing things into my bag.

"I'm in a rush," He said and I could see him shrug from my periphery. "I was too busy saving you from the wall," He remarks and I whirl to face him, then immediately regretting it because he was still shirtless.

"You didn't have to do that," I wished my words came out a little more sour but instead they trailed off, similar to how my eyes dipped from his face to his exposed skin, the cut of his abdomen, the ripples of muscle in his arms, and the steady rise and fall of his chest.

When my eyes meet his again, I'm also met with a stupid smirk on his lips. "Seems like you wanted me too," He teases, leaning dauntingly closer. I swallow thickly. He was so damned near I could practically feel the heat from his skin. "Seems like you want a lot more from me than just my arms wrapped around you," His gaze was entirely predatory. I swallowed thickly, heat staining my cheeks and I knew that I was blushing. "Do you want to wrap around something else?" He arched a brow and I pushed him away, my hands feeling like they were burning the moment they touched his bare skin but he stumbled back and the look of surprise on his face was priceless.

"You're such an asshole," I grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder.

"That wasn't a no, Princess," He crooned.

"I thought I told you to stop calling me that?" I frown. I could leave if I wanted to, I have my bag, I was ready. But he knew I'd rather sit here and argue with him than go home.

"I thought I told you no?" He retorts, taking a long stride forward and pinning me between him and the lockers. "It suits you," He surmised. "A stuck-up, prudish, princess," He leans closer with every word, and by the time he finished speaking his nose was nearly brushing mine. I maintained eye contact, holding my ground.

"I'm not stuck up, and I'm definitely not a prude," I cross my arms over my chest defensively.

"Is that right?" He tilts his head, his voice low. His eyes flick down to my lips, then so leisurely trail back up to my eyes.

"I'm not kissing you," I scoff, I hadn't meant to say it aloud, but now the bastard's smirk was wider.

"I don't remember saying anything about a kiss?" He taunts and I grit my teeth. “Is that what you fantasize about to help you sleep at night?”

"Oh, just shut up already.” I crash my lips onto his.

He immediately reacts to the movement, his arm wraps around my waist while his other cups my jaw, pulling me into him, not wasting a second before we have to pull away for air.

I melt into him, my cold body from the ice immediately heating as my fingers press against his bare abdomen, sliding my hand up his chest.

His hands find their way to my hips, slipping to the backs of my thighs and lifting me up, my back pressed against the lockers as my legs wrap around his torso. My arms wrap around the nape of his neck as I taste him deeper, every flick of his tongue over mine sending waves of pleasure down my spine. "We shouldn't be doing this in here," I whisper against his lips.

"I don't care," He confessed, his hands gripping the underside of my thighs tighter.

"Someone could walk in," I argue, but I don't bother pulling away.

"Are you nervous about being seen with me?" He taunts and I hit his shoulder playfully, kissing him deeply as a reply before pulling away a fraction to say,

"You're going to be late," I try to defend but I swear he could barely hear me with how drunk he was on my lips because as soon as I was done speaking his mouth was back on mine and any other words I could conjure were swallowed by his all-consuming kiss.

"You worry too much, Princess," He grumbled.

"Yo, Az!" A familiar voice shouts through the doorway of the locker room, and gods we were lucky that he had me pinned to the wall. "What's taking so long hurry up," Cassian calls, and Azriel slowly pulls away from my lips.

"Yeah, I'll be out in a second," He retorts and my head slumps back against the lockers while Azriel slowly puts me back down onto my feet.

"You're lucky we didn't get caught," I glare up at him but he only returns it with a smile. He grabs his equipment bag and slings it over his shoulder.

"This," He gestures between me and him. "Isn't over, alright?" He leans in close and I only nod. He pecks my lips before leaving the locker room, the door creaking as it shuts and leaves me standing there utterly speechless.

What the hell just happened? And why did I enjoy every second of it?

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[revelboo]

Not me about to impulsively splurge on some familiar gen 1 figures (cough cough starscream cough cough) thanks to this lovely brainrot I’ve been nursing with these nuggets of your stories ❤️

Do it!

Everything is Alright pt 15

Starscream x Reader-MIA

• Gone. Venting sharply, Starscream stares at his desk and its complete lack of one small, helpless human. Moving slowly, he checks around the desk, spark constricting. As angry as you were with him, surely you wouldn’t have jumped just to spite him. Not finding any trace of you should have been a relief, instead it just spins that panic tighter.

• Because that means someone took you. Skywarp, Thundercracker, and Soundwave are the only three who know about you and he’s sure his trine wouldn’t dare. Not after he’d explained in very clear terms how displeased he’d be if you’re touched again. Soundwave then. The mostly silent mech is unusually interested in his pet’s well-being. It has to be Soundwave. Any other Decepticon and it’s already too late. Moving quickly, he strides down the hall as a very real fear he doesn’t want to touch begins to build.

• While Soundwave is easy enough to track down, the mech just stares at him when he hisses under his breath, demanding to know where the human is. And then spreads his arms, palms up as if to ask why did he think he’d know. It’s like being sucker punched in the denta. Soundwave doesn’t have you. Neither does his trine.

• Now his processor runs wild. A lot of the Decepticon ranks would squash you on sight. Some would toy with you first. A few might dissect you out of scientific curiosity or boredom. He catches the side of the console, startling Soundwave as his wings flick with faint tremors and his servos dig into the metal he’s bracing against, warping it. Just one thing. That’s all he’d wanted. One little thing that was his. Someone glad to see him.

• And he can’t stop that awful, betraying trembling in his wings. Hates that Soundwave is seeing it as he grits his denta. Because whoever took what’s his is going to pay so very dearly.

• They’re absolute gremlins, you decide as you run along with Soundwave’s cassettes through the huge halls. Or maybe they’re more bored teenagers, because their chief source of entertainment seems to be pranks. At least Frenzy and Rumble’s. The other two seem content to watch whatever chaos the disaster twins, as you’ve privately dubbed them, come up with. Including industrial strength adhesives, paint bombs, and stealing energon cubes.

• There’s something so freeing about being turned loose. Even if you’re sure that if you try to sneak off, you’ll be stopped. But for now, you can just, well not forget, but allow yourself to be distracted. The hall your happy little group has wandered down is quiet and they take turns devouring smaller energon cubes they’d thieved. Snacks maybe? “What happens to a squishy if you ingest energon?” Rumble asks, visor glinting as he studies his cube.

• “A horrific, agonizing death?” You venture, shying away from the brightly colored cube as big as your head that he’s holding out, the contents sloshing. Because finding out the answer to this particular mystery? No, thank you. Anything that pretty was probably very poisonous.

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Might I suggest the Flame Toys Starscream if you don’t mind assembling models, because their builds are lovely.

[t1oui]

going to school and being friends with percy jackson would be REALLY WEIRD so let's discuss it rq

he gets dropped off every day in his stepfather's car, which inexplicably has hoof prints on the hood?

the panic attacks... there's a lot of them, and nobody can even tell what's triggering them at this point

the old counselor disappears about a week into his first year at AHS (here's some cotg lore for yall) and is replaced by a weird lady who finds a way to bring percy up to every. single. student. who visits her office.

randomly disappears multiple times throughout the year

very very sea green eyes and a gray streak in his hair

once got out of the pool after swim practice and was completely dry (he insists it was a trick of the light)

the blue food obsession ofc

talks about his girlfriend annabeth all the time... even his friends are convinced it's a "my canadian girlfriend" situation bc he never calls her. he doesn't even have a PHONE

always carries around a pen in his pocket and even though it's just a shitty old ballpoint, NOBODY IS ALLOWED TO TOUCH IT. also he never uses it. ever.

every teacher has sent an email with their concerns about him to the counselor and when that doesn't work to his parents. the responses are always very awkward and vague

talks about his bio dad a lot... never explicitly negative but bro clearly has daddy issues lol

will sometimes randomly mention camp/war/gods and then brush it off like it never happened

absolutely vibrated in his seat the entirety of the greek mythology unit... told the teacher "a demigod named perseus fought ares once" and the teacher just assumes he means the og (aka the one he's named after)

that one upbeat popular guy everybody knows absolutely nothing about, his friends included

they probably have a spreadsheet with all the info they actually DO know about him

finds a way to brag about his mom in every conversation no matter how irrelevant... his friends are used to it atp

everyone's so used to seeing him smiling and laughing that when, say, he catches a younger kid being bullied, it's actually terrifying to see how angry he gets. everybody in that hallway gets chills

there's something off about him and nobody can tell what. that's just how he is

sometimes weird people in weird outfits are hanging around the school and they're ALWAYS looking for him.

every time someone asks what college he's going to he gives a different answer or straight up avoids answering so nobody actually knows

(if he says a school and someone is like "omg me too" he changes his answer right then and there lol... he's like "oh nvm i forgot i'm actually going here my bad" and the person is so confused)

nobody ever sees him working on college applications but he complains about having to do them all the time... bro is like "yeah i had to go through a sewer system but at least my girlfriend and my best friend were there" and his friends are like yo HUH

never explains anything he says

presentation night presentation = all the shittiest things my family has done and he's laughing about it but wdym your aunt kidnapped you and gave you amnesia???

sometimes he's getting fed up with a teacher or another student and a pipe randomly bursts in the school. like it's weird how often his anger ends in a plumber being called when he's nowhere near the problem

where everyone else is excited to watch a movie and chill in class, percy complains through the entirety of hercules - not just "oh this movie sucks", more like "god hercules is such a dick, idk why they made him chill in this movie"

the weirdest part is how, when percy complains about zeus being a good dad in the movie, it starts thundering outside

nobody can keep track of how many schools he's been to at this point... there's a whole section of the spreadsheet for this

when percy's friends finally meet annabeth they are SHOOK bc they truly did not think this girl was real

alright i can't think of anything else but if i DO i will add on later