#to defend themselves against these ridiculous takes

[iamnmbr3]

Wow. Just saw a critique of a story that deals with the topic of ableism saying that it is ableist since it depicts the central character being persecuted because of a disability but never has any of the other characters say that the ableism is wrong.

Like the argument is literally that because the sympathetic main character is persecuted due to a disability but none of the other characters turn to the metaphorical camera and are like "oh this is actually ableist and bad" somehow the creator is condoning that behavior instead of critiquing it. Even though that CLEARLY was not the intent.

Critical thinking skills really are dead huh? When will people learn that depicting something is not the same as condoning it?!

[darkstaria]

Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul Animal AU.

Chapter 3:

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 4. Chapter 5.

Chapter 3 is finally here! Hooray! Hope people enjoy this, cuz I'm going to sleep now zzz

Taglist: @moonchild-artemisdaughter @jjsmeowthie @madine11-blog @xxrougefangxx @hadesnewpersephone @neerathebrightstar @mel-star636 @jaythes1mp @rosecentury @lov3vivian @gaozorous-rex-blog @victoria1676 @vrsin @silverklaus @ryukyuin @kurai-hono-blog @thisisafish123 @isawyourbrowserhistory @ain-t-no-way-bsfr

----

A week had passed since that encounter that had sent you running home, and you could only be grateful to yourself that you hadn’t given Tim your number back. He had probably expected that you would have messaged him back by now. Instead, you were going to avoid that cafe for a while.

As if to spite you, Red was currently fluttering about you. Or should you call him Tim? That might make things too confusing. Red it was.

You had looked at the card Tim had given you, and in all honesty, you regretted it. Mainly because of the name on the card.

Tim Drake.

Tim Drake, who is also commonly known as Tim Wayne. The adopted son of Bruce Wayne.

Tim Drake is Red Robin.

You stared down at Red, who had started dozing in your lap.

Did that mean that the Wayne family all were..? No, surely not. You mean, Brucie Wayne as Batman? That felt a little ridiculous. You could definitely see Robin as Damian Wayne though, he had the right energy.

Richard Grayson had ties to acrobats right? Something about a tragedy. Nightwing did perform quite the stunts.

…

It was way too late in the night for these revelations.

There was one way to know for sure though.

“Wing!” You called out, attracting the attention of the bird that had previously been messing around with your stuffed animal. Wing had way too much of a vendetta against your plushie sometimes. Honestly, if he destroyed one of them, you certainly wouldn't be hugging him anymore.

Wing flew over to you, in a graceful arc that included several unnecessary loops. Showoff.

Wing landed on your hand, and you took a deep breath. Stay calm. The weight of Red in your lap gave you a little comfort, keeping you grounded.

“Richard Grayson.” You said, staring.

No reaction. Not even a twitch, Wing just started tweeting cheerfully as if you hadn't said anything of interest.

Maybe Richard Grayson wasn't Nightwing then? Or was it Richie? Although, he could be called by a nickname instead. What nickname would a Richard be called though…? Maybe..

Dic-

A clutter caught your attention, the sound of a window being opened and slid down. Your window.

Uh oh.

You immediately panicked. What? What could you do? You likely only had about a minute or two until the invader located your bedroom, you needed to make a decision quickly. Even as birds, you knew Red and Wing could defend themselves, but were you willing to take the risk?

If you got robbed, that would be awful, but a robber could do so much worse with the knowledge of a vigilante's civilian soulmate.

You'd take the risk. You pick up Red’s prone form, placing him into an empty bag you had laying around. If your life was in danger, you'd simply free them, and all would be okay.

You turn around, aiming to grab Wing. You reach for him, but Wing evades, darting to the left. Frowning, you try and grab him again, but Wing continues to evade, tweeting in joy.

Wing! You felt like screaming, blood racing to your head and flushing you with panic. This was not a game!

You swipe at him, starting to grab at him in increasingly frantic motions. Each movement is skillfully evaded, with Wing adding a flourish to each dodge.

“Stop dodging!” You hiss, whispering as quietly as you could. It was only when you paused in a moment to calm your frustrations that Wing showed you solace. Landing on your head in a smooth movement, Wing gave a little chirp.

Holding your hands to your head, you felt Wing climb on. You lowered him to eye level, taking a second to glare, before suddenly remembering that you had a literal home invader and stuffing Wing alongside Red in your bag. You had just clipped the bag shut when the creak of your door alerted you to their entrance.

Turning, you were beginning to lament the loss of all your earthly belongings when you locked eyes with a familiar face.

Red Robin.

“What..?” You mumble, horrified. Why was Red Robin here, in your house? The only place you could count on. The one sanctuary you had where you never had to worry about getting caught. Where you were safe.

You didn't feel safe anymore.

“Why? Why are you.. in my home?” The words stumbled out, barely registering even as they left your mouth. You had started shaking. When did that happen?

Perhaps noticing how shaken you were, Red Robin had the decency to look ashamed.

“I’m sorry for invading your house.” He began, with an apologetic tone. “I got quite a bit injured while patrolling, I was hoping I could camp out here for a while.” He gestured to his leg, where a grievous scratch bled. He smiled at you, a polite, small thing, as if it would convince you.

No, was your immediate answer.

“Yes.” Was your spoken response. “I guess that will be fine, but don't linger too long, I don't want to be targeted because a vigilante came into my window.” You tried a smile. It felt like a mask. “And I don't know any medical care. I can offer you my first aid kit, but that's about it.”

“That's fine.” Red Robin seemed reassured, happy to be here. “I have some medical supplies of my own, but I'd appreciate it if I could use your medical kit.”

“I'll go get it. Could you go to the kitchen, please? I’d rather not have you bleed out on my bed.”

He chucked. “Sure.” Then he was gone, headed off to your kitchen. He acted as if it was so simple, as if your life hadn't just shattered to pieces all around you. So nonchalant.

You took a moment to catch your breath. It was difficult. Then, you lifted the clip of your bag, checking in on your soul animals. Wing was cuddled up to Red, the two dozing.

You frowned. Red was fine. He was completely calm, fading in and out of sleep. There was no trace of an injury on him at all.

When it came to injuries, soul animals had some quirks. They only reflect injuries if the soulmate found the wound to be serious enough. Because your soulmates were vigilantes, you were plenty familiar with when they were injured or not. Red was not injured. Not in the slightest.

Red Robin’s wound was intentional. Calculated. If it was a genuine issue, Red would be suffering as well. Which meant only one thing.

Red Robin was on an investigation.

And you were the subject.

You took a couple extra minutes to compose yourself, minutes you didn't doubt Red Robin was utilizing to his full extent. You just had to remind yourself, you were a civilian, you had nothing to hide.

He could look everywhere in the house and not discover a thing. The real secret was already contained in your bag. You could not let him find your soul animals. He can see everything else, but that.

It would be really convenient if both Red and Wing suddenly left to visit some other soulmate of yours, but you knew better than to expect that. If anything you'd be lucky to not have some other soul animal of yours show up. Ever since Spoiler and Orphan showed up, they'd been more persistent than usual. Maybe the new bonds had reminded them that they still hadn't met you.

Well, it was time to face the music. Or the Tim, that worked too. You had already wasted enough time.

Shaken, you slowly stood up. You gathered your bearings, breathed.

You could do this.

Opening the door to the kitchen took much longer than usual, you could only blame the nerves. You locked eyes with Red Robin.

You couldn't do this.

“Hey.” He said. He had his own kit open, taking out some bandages. Despite the illusion of busyness, you didn't doubt he had already skulked around your home. “Did you get the medkit?”

Ah-

The medkit. The kit of medicine you had said you'd bring. The very reason you had your precious minutes of safety in your bedroom. The medkit you forgot. Fu-

You darted back into your room, ripping open a cabinet, and yanking the kit out as if it were the cause of your problems, before dashing back over to him. It was a miracle you hadn't tripped on the way over.

Play it cool.

“S-sorry!” You tried. Your heart was beating out of your skull. Could he tell? Did he already know? Was it over?

“Here.” He took the kit from your shaking hands, laying it across the table and opening it. “You said that you didn't know any medical care. Gotham has clinics, but it's a little dangerous to not have any idea of how to treat an injury, I'll show you.”

You felt yourself nod.

No. It couldn't be over. He’s got nothing on you, and will never have anything. You are a normal citizen, you just need to act like it. You didn't live a life separate from the world, hidden from birth, just to get caught.

You noticed a flutter of movement in the darkness behind his shoulder, and stared. After a bit of squinting, you could make out a small figure in the darkness. A bat.

Uh oh.

A rush of horror gripped you. The bat was smaller and slender than the Bat. It was Orphan. You gave a little twitch, a small shake of the head, begging for it to not move. Orphan didn't react.

Red Robin began explaining how to properly cleanse and sanitize wounds. You did your best to pay attention. Somehow, he was a decent teacher. He then moved on to explaining how to properly bandage. You assumed that he was just going to talk you through it. This assumption was broken, as Red Robin instead took your hands in his, and guided them through the correct technique. Once you seemed to have gotten it, he then let you apply them to his leg.

“A little tighter, just like that.”

“Like this?”

“Perfect.”

Why would he let you do this? Aren't the bats supposed to be paranoid? Your thoughts were interrupted by a ruffle of your hair. You looked up, locking eyes with Red Robin. He smiled.

“Well done.”

What the hell was going on.

The only good thing about today was that Orphan still hadn't moved. You almost forgot about it, since Orphan had stayed in complete darkness the whole time. Perhaps Orphan was content just watching?

Ah, but you're getting distracted. Red Robin received his medical care just like he wanted, now it's time for him to leave. And never come back.

“Are you doing any better?” It was a tentative question. Unfortunately you didn't think a ‘get the hell out of here’ would work any better, as much as you wanted to say so.

He nodded. “Yep. I'll head out now, goodbye.” Red Robin stood up, gathering his medkit up and placing it in his utility belt. He vaulted up to your kitchen window, sliding it open once again and climbing up to it. Now you knew what window it was, you were absolutely fixing that shut.

A glance in Orphan’s corner told you that it was still there, still watching. In that aspect, the soul animal was rather like the Bat. A stalker. Still, you'd take it.

You had never been so glad to watch someone leave before. He didn't let you enjoy your happiness for long, however, as he turned back to you at the last moment. “Oh, by the way”. He began, as if you weren’t screaming inside.

“I'll be coming over again in a few days, possibly next week.” He glanced at some gadget you didn't care about as he said this, nonchalant.

What.

“W-why?” You stuttered, completely bewildered. He had definitely checked out your house, there was nothing to be found! For what insane reason would he be coming back for?!

“It’s not safe for any Gothamite to lack basic first aid training. Your parents should have taught you better.”

The world was becoming red, you hid a clenched fist behind your back. “That's nothing that a first aid course wouldn't teach me, really, it'd be fine if you didn't come over.”

You wanted to outright protest, you really did. But you couldn't. Drawing any excessive attention would be your downfall. It'd be much easier, if Red Robin would pick up that you clearly didn't want him here!

And besides, your parents were busy enough, paying to keep you safe, hidden from the world. They have done enough.

“A course can't teach you like a hero can. I'll know when your in, so, keep an ear out.” Of course. Thanks Tim, so much.

So now you had the choice between staying at home wherein Red Robin could show up at any moment and find out your soulmates, or you could leave home and get caught with having vigilante soul animals outside. Great, what wonderful options.

You're about to protest, give a better argument, at least something. But you're interested by a squawk coming from your bedroom. You realised what happened immediately. One of the robins had finally woken up.

He needed to get out. Now.

“Okay fine, but please leave. Having a vigilante hanging out of my window is even worse than being inside my house.” You gave up. It didn't matter what concession you had to give, you needed him out immediately.

Red Robin had the audacity to chuckle, as if you had made a joke. He lifted his hand in a wave, before vanishing with a swoosh.

As if he had never been there to begin with.

A shaky sigh left you, your knees losing strength. But you snapped back to attention a second later. It was time to attend to your soul animals.

Orphan landed on your shoulder as you made your way over to your bedroom. You reluctantly petted it, sapped of your usual enthusiasm. At least it knew of subtlety, unlike certain soul animals you had.

Maybe it was time to finally get some sleep.

[dalishious]

About Davrin's little blurb on the official website for Dragon Age: The Veilguard...

"Though he was raised in a Dalish clan, he craved excitement and adventure. He'd rather make history than reflect on it."

There's actually a lot to unpack about these two sentences.

First off, placing the word "though" in front of being "raised in a Dalish clan", gives such a thing a negative connotation. The word "though" is used in a way that sounds like "despite", as in, somehow wanting excitement and adventure must go against being Dalish. This correlates with sentence that follows. "He'd rather make history than reflect on it." The word "rather" is yet again used to separate Davrin from his Dalish origin. All together, this promotional description of Davrin is insisting that he is "not like other Dalish".

Now, obviously the game is not out yet, so we do not have total confirmation on what the nature of Davrin's relationship to his culture is really like. But there is absolutely something to be said about promoting the character this way, regardless of however he actually turns out in game. There is absolutely something to be said about how, as @/the-eldritch-it-gay put in their tags here, why do writers feel the need to make fantasy minorities hate or distance themselves from their culture? As a selling point?

Maybe this is completely misleading bullshit, maybe it isn't. All we have to go by, is what BioWare chose to say here, and their past track record with elves:

Zevran may talk about his mother in a font way, but he still has the line, "Too many of our kind think we deserve pity simply because we have failed to defend ourselves."

Velanna is one of the two elves we've had who is overtly proud of her culture, yet she is treated like she is unreasonable and too angry because of it.

Merrill too, is proud of being an elf, and of being Dalish. The story punishes her left and right for this, treats her like a child, and in the end she is either ostracized from her clan or they end up dead because... she cared too much?

Fenris has pretty much zero engagement with elven cultures, and spends his time ridiculing Merrill for being proud of hers.

Solas complains about the Dalish from the start, and says plainly that he does not see himself as having anything in common with elves of current time. "Oh, you mean elves" he says, when the Inquisitor asks how he feels about his people; the thought does not even occur to him.

Sera is... Sera is a character who could have been a really interesting examination of overcoming internalized racism, if she was written by someone competent with the subject. Instead, she just cringes at everything "too elfy" through the entire main game, and only has a single line in Trespasser that hints that she may have a personal struggle going on. But it's still left unresolved.

That's a lot a lot of negativity. So of course seeing a suggestion that more is to come with Davrin has people wary and tired.

Let us also consider the fact that Davrin is overtly Black as well, and what that means. Acting as if one must disregard history in order to make it, as his description so claims, is bullshit. It sounds too much like promoting gentrification/assimilation in my opinion; the idea that you cannot keep your culture if you want to be successful.

I also think that it goes even deeper, on a meta level - I think that BioWare is afraid people will not be able to like or relate to Davrin, if he is "too ethnic". I think that BioWare is taking this Black character and instead of questioning how he can best represent marginalized fans - particularly Black fans - they are questioning how to make him more relatable to white fans. And the only answer to that is to, of course, make him seem like he is an exception to marginalization through separating him from his people.

I am still holding onto hope that Davrin will overall be an interesting, well-written character. And I sure as hell will still be defending him from the people who are already hating on him or ignoring him completely because of their racialized biases. But that does not exempt BioWare, and specifically his writer, John Dombrow, from any criticism. This is not about Davrin the character, this is about BioWare the company's handling of Davrin the character. And in that regard, they're not off to a great start with this.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Heya, could you write one for Tanjirou where the reader gets hurt on a mission and he feels bad about letting it happen as they were protecting Nezuko and he has feelings for her?

Thanks. I love your writing and take your time x

Okay I LOVE THIS

Tanjiro realizing his feelings for reader after she risks her life to protect Nezuko

Pairing: Tanjiro x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,8k

Synopsis: Despite being well-composed and never deciding without thinking twice, you find yourself recklessly risking your life in order to protect Nezuko from getting hurt by Daki. Little do you know what an impact your second impulsive choice will have...

Warnings: severe injury, near death experience, fluff over fluff with Tanjiro with probably the cutest ending I've ever written, not proofread, I'll use one collage and one stand-alone AI pic so if this triggers you, I suggest not to read or look at them 🤍

You never considered yourself impulsive. No, you never acted out of a feeling, never operated without thinking twice. Always kept your composure, a cool head. Maybe this is the reason for you still being alive, the reason why you are able to call yourself a quite skilled demon slayer on the side of your friends.

“You’ll come with me. I need you to look out for my wives.”

It was clear right from the start that this wouldn’t be an easy mission. All of Tengen’s wives enjoyed education when it comes to fighting skills. As a former shinobi, he made sure they were able to defend themselves. If he lost contact to them, it was clear something bigger is behind it. Something way bigger than anything you witnessed until that day.

“I can’t allow you to take (y/n) with you like that. I will join!”, Tanjiro suddenly shouted from behind with his oh so confident voice.

You will never forget the way he smiled at you back then, how much he cared for your well-being each and everyday since you arrived in the red-light district.

“I would never allow a demon to hurt one of my friends!”

Friends. Not quite the word you’d like to use for him. Since you first met each other when he saved you during the final selection, you always kept an eye open for the boy with the special kimono.

And his sister.

Apart from many people who dislike her, you loved Nezuko since the first day you laid eyes on her. Slowly but surely, it became your mission as well to save her, to free her from the curse of being a demon.

“I guess I’ll never be able to thank you enough for your support.”

You didn’t allow yourself to look at him, fully aware of that you’d get lost in his tender orbs again if you do. No, instead your eyes roamed about the glittering city to your feet, drifting over the facial expressions of the people underneath you.

“We’re friends, right? This is what friends do”, you murmured into the night.

Oh, you didn’t believe yourself a single word. What a filthy little lie to call Tanjiro a friend when all you are able to think about is his smell, when his voice is everything that lingers through your mind. Are friends supposed to think about one another constantly, to ponder about how their lips might feel pressed against each other? You promised yourself to never find out. After all, revealing your true feelings might scare him away forever. And losing Tanjiro all at once is definitely far worse than calling yourself his friend. After all, this would be impulsive with a not foreseeable outcome.

But even after you swore you’d never act out of a feeling, you find yourself sprinting into certain death.

It all happened faster than you expected. Inosuke managed to find Tengen’s wives and therefore the demon.

The upper moon six, to be exact.

The devilish who injured not only your friends, but Tanjiro as well. And now, she’s about to injure Nezuko as well.

Apart from your usual composed self, you find yourself dashing forward while grabbing the handle of your katana tightly. This is ridiculous, you don’t stand a chance against a demon like hair. Nezuko is a demon herself, she’d probably recover from her injuries.

You furrow your eyebrows, eyes fixated on both of them. It doesn’t matter right now. All you are able to think about is helping your friend.

“Get your filthy hands away from her”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

A well-placed hit. Your knee hits the ground roughly. Then everything around you is discoloured red.

Like in slow motion, you watch your own body sink onto the ground lifelessly. Your lungs feel like collapsing any given minute while you gasp for air like a fish on land. Blood takes your sight, drips down onto the already soaked floor while all you can do is watch in sheer horror as that hell of a demon grins at you.

“You did well until now. Dumb girl, why would you even think about defending a demon? Look how weak you are.”

The urge to cough becomes unbearable. Over and over, you spit out your own blood until your ribs feel like breaking. Did she hit you? Are you severely injured? Apart from your aching lungs, your body feels completely numb, almost lifeless. Like in slow motion, you watch as she walks towards you, the upper moon six emblem sparkling dreadfully in her eyes.

Is this your end?

What a senseless way to die when Nezuko is a demon. After all, even an upper moon wouldn’t be able to kill another demon without the right blade to do so. You never considered yourself so impulsive, so reckless.

Your eyes dart towards Tanjiro’s beloved sister who puts up a desperate fight against all the debris that buried her. Not everything needs to make sense.

It doesn’t make sense you decided to spare her life in the first place. It doesn’t make sense that you fell for her brother, that you allowed yourself feelings deeper than sympathy in a world full of cruelness and death. It doesn’t make sense that you decided to follow the sound hashira only to rescue his wives, that you actually considered going with him on your own.

All of that because you are so madly in love with Tanjiro. All of that because you view Nezuko as your own sister and could never allow another person to hurt her.

“What an ugly girl you are with your face twisted like that. What’s wrong? Are you in pain?”

You can hear your flesh bursting underneath another merciless hit of her belt, feel the throbbing pain that starts radiating through your bones. You will die right here and now, without any doubt. And you will die without seeing his face again, without telling him a single word about your true feelings.

“Don’t worry (y/n), I’m sure we’ll be fine! And as soon as we’re back, I’ll invite you to a bowl of ramen!”

A bowl of ramen?

Like in trance, you press your hand onto your leg, feel your busted flesh all too clearly, your very own blood slipping through your fingers.

Just like the love of your life.

“You need to get up.”

A distant voice in the back of your brain, muted by the constant ringing that takes over your ears.

“(y/n), can you hear me? You need to get up.”

Is Tanjiro still with Tengen-sama? They will manage to defeat those demons, you just know it. With the help of Inosuke, Zenitsu and Tengen-sama, Tanjiro will be alright. Who knows, maybe he’ll be a hashira in a week from now, maybe he’ll defeat Muzan Kibutsuji. Oh, what you’d give to hear that boy’s voice one last time, to witness his beaming smile again.

“She’s basically dead, idiot. Get lost so I can finish her.”

Are those hands lifting you off the ground or is your soul evaporating from your body?

“Please stay with me, (y/n). You need to keep on fighting.”

You allow your eyes for the briefest second. When you open them again, you barely miss how Nezuko catapults the upper moon six into a nearby building with full force. No, why would she risk to get hurt, what if that woman hurts her? It seems like you’re moving away from the scene and you’re unable to do anything apart from stretching out your shaky hand.

“No…I can’t…leave….”, you breathe out.

“Why did you risk your life like that? (y/n) you…you could be dead right now.”

That voice, it isn’t inside your head. No, someone is talking to you with an oh too familiar voice in a tone you know so well.

“Tanjiro.”

“I’m here, (y/n). And I promise everything will be alright? I just...don’t do something like that ever again, not even for Nezuko.”

Even though the sheer movement feels like breaking your own neck, you lift up your head enough to make sure this isn’t just a dream.

But his eyes are already set on you, filled with nothing but worry and threat while he carries you over the battlefield.

For a moment, time stands still. Just you and Tanjiro. No battlefield, no injuries, no demons. Just peace, love and Tanjiro.

Love.

“I love you”, you mutter so muted that he almost fails to understand.

You can feel his heartbeat picking up next to your throbbing head, watch how his eyes widen. Oh, how lovely they look in that red light, how easy it is to get lost in their gleam. What a waste of time it was to keep your feelings to yourself when all you were able to do was thinking about him. How lucky you are to feel your body pressed against his one last time.

One last time…

“I…so…tired…”

Desperately, you fight against the urge to close your eyes. You need to take this sight in for a little longer, need to stay awake at least for another minute. But your vision slowly but surely starts to get darker and darker until you can’t see him anymore.

“(y/n), don’t give up on me, not when I didn’t told you that-“

Nothingness.

-a week later-

“You should really start focus on getting back on your feet yourself, you know? It won’t help her if you don’t get better too”, the Kakushi next to him speaks out.

Since the moment he opened his eyes and realized that you aren’t awake, Tanjiro didn’t allow himself to leave your side. The last time he did that was at the entertainment district. The last time he did that you almost lost your precious life over defending his sister.

“I will stay just a little longer”, he mumbles lost in thoughts.

You always loved Nezuko dearly despite being a demon. Even though your logical thinking and composed acting, you accepted her as the human she was before and supported him in finding a cure for his sister. Still…

He runs his fingers through his hair roughly, frustration almost taking over him. Tanjiro never expected you to almost sacrifice your precious life for his sister. Not when she’s fighting against a demon, not when two upper moons are your opponents. No one would have doubted you, would have judged you for staying in safety. Nezuko would have never allowed you to interfere if she could, just like him.

“I should have arrived sooner. I should have been right by her side all the time. Maybe none of this would have happened if I kept an eye on her like I promised…”

“Don’t be a fool, she would have never allowed you to stay by her side knowing that it might cost the success of the mission. Still, I didn’t expect someone like her to act so reckless. Who’s your sister doing?”, the man opposite of Tanjiro replies.

“She’s been crying the whole time.”

“Did she finally wake up?”, Inosuke suddenly blurts out while entering the room on his own.

“She’s still unconscious”, Tanjiro explains briefly.

“Did you put that horrible bandage around her head? Before you came here, it looked alright”, the Kakushi interferes dryly.

“With the power of master Inosuke, (y/n) will be back on her feet in no time!”

“H…Hello?”

When your eyes flutter open, you get greeted by 3 pairs of excited eyes in an instant, your clouded mind still unable to process that you’re awake.

“Where am I?”, you croak with your throat feeling like sandpaper.

“I will call Shinobu-sama right away”, the Kakushi announces and gets up with a swift motion.

“You’re at the butterfly estate, dumbass”, Inosuke barks at you.

“(y/n)….I was so worried about you!”

Before you’re able to react any further, you find yourself emerged by green and black fabric, surrounded by a scent you know so well by now.

“Tanjiro”, you breathe out.

Over and over, you whimper his name like a prayer in order to convince yourself that this is real. You didn’t die. You are still alive. And right now, none other than Tanjiro Kamado holds you in his arms as tenderly as you always imagined. Is it a dream, maybe? A sweet hallucination to get you through the immense pain?

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. All of this, only to stand up for my sister. Words can’t express how worried I was. How is it possible that this made me realize how much I-“

“You’re finally awake, how relieving. Would you mind moving to the side so that I’m able to examine (y/n), Tanjiro-san?”

That voice as sweet as honey belongs to Shinobu Kocho, without any doubt.

“S-Sure.”

“You really fought well, (y/n). Surviving that long with such severe injuries took its toll on your body, though. All of this because you wanted to protect Tanjiro’s sister?”

Her skilled hands begin roaming around your skin while you feel her gaze fixated on you. But you cannot look at Shinobu-san right now. No, your eyes are locked with those of Tanjiro next to you.

“They both mean the world to me”, you murmur.

He lets out his breath visibly while taking a step towards you. What is that glimmer in his eyes? Sorrow, dread?

Or maybe affection?

“How unusual for you to act this reckless. But maybe this is what love makes us do, right? I will leave you two alone for now. How about you’re taking a look outside? The sunset looks lovely today. But please use a wheelchair since your leg is still shattered.”

With a last bright smile, the insect pillar is gone in the wind again, leaving you alone with Tanjiro in a suddenly so tensed room.

“What do you think?  Do you want to watch the sunset with me?”, Tanjiro questions with low voice.

“I would love to.”

As careful as ever, he lifts you off the bed and places you into the wheelchair before gently guiding you outside.

Your eyes get greeted by the prettiest red you’ve ever seen covering the whole sky. Like a painting, the beautiful scenery lays itself in front of your eyes. Shinobu-san’s flowers painted in the colors of the sky, the fluffy clouds that look so comfortable from afar.

But what mesmerizes you way more than that is the striking sight next to you, the boy you loved in silence since you first saw him. With his face lit by the downgoing sun and the ever so slight blush that creeps up his face while looking at you, you can’t help but get lost.

“Maybe I needed this”, he speaks out.

You blink a few times, still tired mind trying to process the meaning of his words.

“What?”

There is it. His usual beaming smile, the optimistic glimmer inside his gorgeous orbs. Careful not to hurt you he grabs your hand and gently strokes it while kneeling down next to you. Is this really happening? Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest, reminds you urgently that you are definitely still alive. Why would Tanjiro Kamado get onto his knees for you?

“You.”

An answer so simple and yet so intimate that you can’t help but blush as well. Like in slow motion, you watch as he draws closer and closer until his face is only inches away from yours.

“I love you, (y/n). I guess I was too dumb to realize it until I saw you injured like that because you protected my sister. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The words leave your mouth just in time before he places his soft lips onto yours, making all your dreams come true with one innocent kiss.

You always acted well-thought and composed. But oh, what a plot twist it was to follow your heart twice in a row.

-bonus-

“Did…Shinobu-san put this around my head?”, you question while staring blankly at your messy hair and the wild bandadge around your head.

“The insect girl? Of course it was me! You wouldn’t even be awake if it wasn’t for me! But don’t worry, you can worship me later”, Inosuke replies while stretching out his chest in full proud.

“You look…”

“Well…”

“I mean…”

None of the three girls dare to raise their voices at him whereas you stare yourself up and down. Of course, it was Inosuke. Shinobu-san would never stitch you up like that.

“Do you want…Kanao to fix this?”, one of them finally suggests quietly.

“Yeah….I guess that would be pretty nice.”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls (your fic will be next) @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu

[rosemaryblossomworld]

Think I need someone older

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙰𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚢𝚎𝚗 𝚡 𝚃𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚢𝚎𝚗! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙰𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛.

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 18+, 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝, 𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝙰𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗...), 𝙰𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚝, 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚢, 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚜𝚖𝚜

𝙰/𝚗: 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚋𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙴𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚐𝚎. 𝙰𝙻𝚂𝙾! 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚌 (𝙸 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗), 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍!

Few people were unaware of Aemond Targaryen's obsession with his older half-sister. He identified her every breath and word as a blessing from the gods.

Alicent was not against uniting with the Blacks, she herself had proposed marriage! But she didn't want her son to marry a woman twice his age. She loved him and offered various daughters from different houses that matched his age. But Aemond gave the invited guest a bored look every time.

Y/n Targaryen was the king's eldest daughter, he loved and praised her. She was a woman of intelligence, she gave up the throne and married a lord, it was said that they loved each other, which was very rare in their time. But alas, the man died in the war, leaving a young wife and three children.

As she walked the halls of the castle, she greeted every servant. She knew every servant by name. She was not afraid of dirty work, once some people from the court saw how the first princess helped the laundress to collect the laundry, which fell in the mud, that day it rained heavily.

Aemond had followed her around like a duckling following his mother since he was young. She defended him from the attacks of the bastard Strongs, told them off and reported to the mother of the family.

"I will marry you, sister!" shouted the boy in a burst of ebullience.

"Oh, my prince, but I will be old by then," the eldest princess laughed, stroking the prince's ruffled hair.

"I will love you always. I don't care about age!" said Aemond just as reverently.

The princess laughed at him, not taking him seriously. After all, he was not the first boy to declare his love to her. She knew that soon he would forget about her and marry a girl his own age.

Sitting at the family table, Y/n felt his intense gaze devouring every inch of her body. Aemond had grown up. And grown into a fine young man. Returning to King's Landing, the eldest princess had hoped that Aemond had married a lady from another house. But the young prince remained lonely and was clearly waiting for something, or rather someone.

From her close servants, Y/n learned that all the women his mother had suggested, he had rejected. And kept asking to send the marriage proposal to her. But the Queen refused because of the age difference. And Y/n supported her.

The first princess was not much affected by age, sometimes thought to be only twenty and five. Because of that, there were rumors of a curse, a witch, etc. But Y/n was not a young lady. And she thought it was ridiculous for her to marry a second time. She had children who were the same age as Aemond!

The princess watched her family who were talking amongst themselves, laughing and having fun. Y/n smiled, realizing that this was the only peaceful moment after all these years.

She shifted her gaze again to Aemond, who continued to stare at her. The woman stiffened but smiled, then turned her back to her eldest son, who distracted her with a question.

"Oh, Your Grace, we meant to make a little announcement," the queen said quietly but loudly, the table fell silent.

"Right, wife, thank you for reminding me," Viserys exhaled heavily.

"What kind of announcement is this?" laughed Rhaenyra nervously.

"I realized that almost all of my children and grandchildren have found a mate, it is very important to me. Today I wanted to announce that my son Aemond is also getting married," muttered the king.

"Oh that is wonderful news," Y/n pressed her palm to her chest and turned to the prince, she smiled affectionately at him. Viserys was unable to continue his monologue.

"Let me do this, my love," Alicent spoke softly.

"Please," the man exhaled tiredly.

"We've found him the perfect match. We have been discussing this with the King for years," Alicent turned her attention to the first princess, "We have decided that, you, Y/n Targaryen will be perfect for my son," Alicent smiled affectionately again, excitement and fear frozen in her eyes. This decision was much harder for her to make than many thought.

The table fell silent. Rhaenyra looked at her sister with fear, the latter looked at the girl as well, then shifted her gaze to Daemon, who frowned.

"Your Majesty...do you understand the risk?" y/n's voice trembled.

"We understood, but lately many families have refused to accept a marriage proposal. So we decided to choose someone from a close circle," the Queen smiled nervously.

"I am not young. Aemond would be suited for a girl his age," for the first time in her life, the princess wanted to escape this room and run away to her chambers.

"We know..." Alicent pressed her lips together.

"I'm not sure I can give birth because of my age," the woman's brain was tossing ideas of retreat to her, but all those ideas ran into a high and solid wall.

"We've talked about this. If it doesn't work out, Aemond said it doesn't matter to him and he's willing to be the father of your children," Alicent exhaled convulsively.

"But..." the older princess wanted to continue.

"Y/n!" came the squeaky voice of the king.

"Father!" shrieked the girl similarly.

"This decision is not negotiable! I want happiness for you," Viserys coughed.

"I'm sorry," y/n got up from the table and hurried away so as not to cause a scene.

The next day the woman did not come out until the evening. Throughout the day she had been visited by her children and her younger sister, who was in shock and angry at her father's decision.

It was cool in the garden, the woman wrapped herself in her silk robe, she nodded to the knight who stood guard in the garden and went deep inside.

"It's dangerous for such a beautiful woman to walk at night without knights," a voice sounded somewhere to her left, Y/n turned around.

"Aemond..." the princess squirmed.

"Sister, I haven't seen you all day," the young man stepped closer.

"I wasn't feeling well today and decided to rest," y/n walked forward.

"Is it because of the news?" asked the obvious thing Aemond.

"Yes! How could they? They condemned you to live with an old woman who can't give you anything!" the princess exploded and turned to the young man again.

"Don't talk about yourself like that!" raised his voice to the prince, frowning.

"But it is true! You weren't looking hard enough, perhaps you would have found the one and only!" y/n wanted to scream, but she realized she would wake up the entire castle.

"I found my one and only long ago...and no one can compare to her," whispered Aemond and moved even closer to the woman who was standing with her back to him.

"Why then..." the princess turned to him, and saw that very look in his eyes.

"I told you sister, I will find any way that we can be together,"

"No...Aemond...you don't realize what you are condemning yourself to,"

"I don't want a baby, I just want you!"

"Aemond...do you hear me! I'm an old widow who could die at any moment!"

The prince doesn't hold back and reaches out his hand to the woman's neck, squeezing it but allowing her to breathe.

"Don't you dare! If you die, I will follow you," Aemond looked into the girl's eyes with fury.

"You fool!" she whispered.

"I'm a fool! I love you so much and you can't understand that," the young man moved closer to the princess's face and then slowly began to lead her towards the tree, keeping her throat down.

He hid them behind bushes and other trees. Aemond pressed his whole body against his lover. Then he nestled his lips to hers. His kiss was inept and rough, he pressed hard on the girl's lips, making it impossible to move them. Unable to hold back, Y/n bit Aemond's lip, the prince pulled back. He exhaled heavily. Even the bite of his beloved was a blessing to him.

He let go of her neck, sliding down and lifting her robe and night dress.

"Wait!" the princess startled.

Aemond piled his entire body on top of the woman again, preventing her from moving. He snuck further in, touching her womanhood. She sighed convulsively.

"No underwear?" grinned the prince, embarrassing the woman.

He ran his index finger along the Y/n's folds, again pulling a sigh from her lips. Then again and again until the her juices began to show. He teased the pearl, squeezing it between his fingers and pulling it away.

Y/N grasped the man's shoulders and nipped at the spot between his shoulder and neck, holding back a moan.

Aemond continued to slide and pull away from the woman's bead.

"Aemond," sobbed the princess, she felt herself surrendering under the onslaught of these beautiful sensations.

"What is it my queen?" the prince asked and smirked "Tell me. What do you want?"

"Inside...touch inside. I want to feel you inside," the girl breathed heavily, grasping at his black leather tunic.

AEmond slowly slipped two fingers into the woman's womb. This time the Princess didn't hold back a moan. She hadn't felt these feelings in a long time, she hadn't touched herself and she hadn't brought anyone into her bedroom since her husband's death. But now...Aemond made her remember these sensations.

The prince sped up his movements, wet and squelching sounds echoed through the garden, speeding up every second.

This sound excited Y/N even more, she began to squeeze the young man's fingers, no longer holding back her moans. If anyone saw them, they would think the prince was having fun with a Silk Street prostitute.

Y/N threw her right leg over Aemond's thigh, pressing her closer to him. She could feel the bump against her thigh. The princess reached her hands out to the guy's face, guiding him to her face, she connected with him in a kiss, schooling him.

The woman's legs began to tremble, Aemond noticed it, so he put his free arm around her waist, holding her.

"Aemond, I'm about to..." the princess gasped, she was short of breath.

"C'mon, I'm here, let it go," the young man whispered caressingly into her ear, and the girl let go.

A groan caught in her throat, her legs shook, and the walls enveloped Aemond's fingers, squeezing them convulsively. The prince waited for a while, then stuck his fingers out. Y/N thought he would say goodbye to her now, or escort her out, but he knelt down, spreading the legs wider. He nestled his lips against the woman's nub, sucking and drinking all of the girl's juices. The princess sighed sharply, not expecting this.

"Wait! Fool! There...There...It's all sensitive in there! No!" the woman tried to move away or push the prince's face away, but Aemond pressed down harder and harder.

The prince drove his tongue back and forth, circling the lovely pearl, and then went further, thrusting his tongue inside.

The prince drove his tongue back and forth, circling the lovely pearl, and then went further, thrusting his tongue inside.

Y/n was thrashing in an agony of pleasure, she was in pain and pleasure, she wanted to run away but at the same time press the prince's face closer. She could feel Aemond moving his tongue, it was a delightful feeling. The prince was touching all her sensitive spots. Involuntarily, the princess began to move her hips, enjoying herself. Aemond groaned as he felt his lover's involvement. Y/n felt the pleasure forming into a tight lump again, and then that lump unleashed. The girl let out a sound, it resembled both a cry and a scream.

Aemond drank all that poured out of his woman's womb, licking the inside of her thigh gently. He rose from his knees, holding the woman who was piling on top of him due to her orgasm, unable to keep herself on her feet.

"I love you, sister! You are everything to me. And you will be mine..."

[the-daily-dreamer]

Just a reminder to some people in the ASOIAF fandom…

Abuse is not a moral failure on the part of the victim. An inability to defend oneself, powerlessness, fear, etc. are not reasons a victim “deserves” their abuse or worse.

Listen to me: abuse, under no circumstances, is earned by the victim. I don’t care that they didn’t stand up for themselves (could they have? did they personally feel like they could? does it fucking matter?). If someone is a victim of abuse it is not their failure. It doesn’t make them weak for accepting the abuse or feeling like they deserve it. It doesn’t make them frustrating because they don’t have the ability to stand up against their abusers. It doesn’t make them a moral or feminist (when it’s women specifically) failure because they are too afraid to defend themselves.

I see too many arguments that the pain and suffering of a victim is deserved if they don’t radically scream and claw their way out of victim hood. That a victim deserves their abuse if they are in any way accepting of it. This is disgusting rhetoric.

Specifically in the case of Sansa and Alicent. I see too many in this fandom ridicule them and even cheer for their abuse. Simply because they are not in positions to save themselves (and therefore perceived as complacent in abuse). How can you hate the young girls with no rights or freedoms or safety or help for being abused more than their abusers?! How can you blame them for their abuse as if it is their fault and not the sick individuals hurting them? It’s disgusting and people need to take a long and hard look at themselves because while I’m talking about fiction��this rhetoric is clearly indicative of a sickening reality: that society views victims as deserving of abuse if they aren’t fighting.

So I remind you: BEING A VICTIM IS NOT A MORAL FAILURE. VICTIMS ARE NOT THE PROBLEM. ABUSERS ARE

[howi99]

Project ARC remake 20

Qrow: *rolling his eyes* This is getting ridiculous, Ozpin. Glynda is a complete mess and Jaune regressed mentally to a 10 year old?

Ozpin: *sigh* From what i understood, speaking with him, it's less that he has the mental faculties of a 10 year old and more that he has the memories of one. He's also slowly getting his memory from Beacon back, so he should be able to reintegrate-

Qrow: Oz! *Slamming his hand on the table* We both know he can't go back soon. *Looking pissed* The kid is having phantom pains from- *shaking his head* urgh, just thinking about it makes me sick.

Ozpin: *sigh* So you want me to go against Glynda's wish and warn Atlas that we found him?

Qrow: ... Can't believe myself for saying that, but yes. *Drink from his flask* It's either that, or the kid might remember something he really shouldn't.

___________________________________________

Glynda: *looking at her little brother with pain in her heart* Jaune...

Jaune: *wearing an eye patch* W-well, the pain disappears when i'm blocking my vision. So with that, i should be fine, ok? *Smile* You don't need to worry too much about me, right?

Glynda: ...

Jaune: *scratching the back of his neck* Look, i won't be long. I'm just gonna get some eggs and prepare some Vale toast.

Glynda: *panicking* J-Jaune, wait i-

Jaune: *putting his hand on her shoulder* Sis, you can't be with me all the time. *Calming smile* I won't disappear or anything. Just... Sit and relax. Think of today as a vacation day, ok?

Glynda: ... *Looking at the ground* Ok...

Jaune: *nod* Good. I'll be back in a jiffy! *Leave*

Glynda: *closing her eyes* It's gonna be fine, he's gonna be fine...

___________________________________________

Cinder: Tsk, nothing to eat. *Closing the fridge door, taking a look at the rest of the little studio she took for herself with a sigh* At least, i'm not living with that psychopath... And it's comfier than Evernight. *As she said those words, her stomach grumbled* Urgh, fine, i'll go buy something to eat. *She puts casual clothes on herself before leaving the apartment*

___________________________________________

Cinder: *panicking, as the man who fought her in Mistral is now smiling at her with a dumb look* I-i-i-i-

Jaune: *looking apologetically at her* Sorry to have startled you, but could you take a step to the left? *Point behind her* i'm trying to get some milk and-

Cinder: *trying to protect herself from what she is assuming is going to be round two of her getting almost killed* I-i know how to defend myself and-

Jaune: *perplexed* What? *Realising he's completely in her personal space* O-oh, sorry! I didn't mean to frighten you! *Sheepish laugh* I lost a lot of memories and i keep forgetting i'm not just a kid anymore.

Cinder: *blinking* U-uh!?

Jaune: So uh... *Point, again, behind her* Can i get the milk?

Cinder: ... *Shaking her head, stepping aside* You can take it! I-i don't need it.

Jaune: *smile* Thank you.

Cinder: *still completely terrified* S-sure, no problem!

___________________________________________

Cashier: Sorry, but your credit card was declined.

Cinder: *slumping* But i only took some bread...

Jaune: *who just finished packing up his food* Would you like to eat with me and my sister?

Cinder: *startled* WHAH! S-STOP APPEARING FROM NOWHERE!

Jaune: *wince* S-sorry, i just wanted to make up for the fright i caused you...

Cinder: *looking at the loaf of bread in her hand then at the mountain of food Jaune is bringing back to "his" apartment* I... *Her hunger won over her fear* Fine. B-but just a quick bite.

Jaune: *smiling* Of course!

___________________________________________

Cinder: *sitting at the table of the second in command of Ozpin and the thing that tried to kill her* ...

Glynda: *sigh* Jaune, you really should stop trying to help everyone you see. It's a bad habit.

Jaune: *who just finished making breakfast* But you always told me to be the best i can be. Isn't helping those who can't feed themselves a part of being the best i can?

Glynda: *wince* I-i know i said that, b-but people can be dangerous and i don't want you to get hurt.

Cinder: ... *Internally screaming* I-i d-didn't know she was y-your s-s-sister.

Glynda : *Eyes widening* J-Jaune!? I told you to keep people from knowing!

Jaune: *wince* I totally forgot, my bad... *Placing the "French" toast on the table, along with bacon and eggs* Can you forgive me with a little bit of bribery?

Glynda: ... *Sigh with a smile* Sure, you may buy your way out of it... For now.

Cinder: *stomach growling at the sight of the food* ...

Jaune: *smiling at the (unknown) criminal* You can pick what you want, i don't eat much anyway.

___________________________________________

Cinder: *now back at her apartment* ... *Looking at the nicely packed food Jaune gave to her* ... *Then thinking back on the "conversation" she had with Tyrian two days ago* ... That's so unfair...

[Now, for everyone that thinks Cinder is out of character, remember that A) she doesn't have any power from the maiden, so her confidence is actually low and B) she stole a part of Jaune's soul in their fight. Basically the soul of an angel which is slowly but noticeably having an impact on her own.]

[mx-pastelwriting]

Redamancy

Lee Russell x GN! Reader

Summary: Standing up for Lee against his sisters.

Warnings: Slight Fluff, Established Relationship, LOTS of Confrontation, Yelling, Married to Lee, Slight Angst, Slight Hurt/Comfort, Heated Kiss, Mention of Lee being turned on

Wiping away the fuzz of the morning from your eyes while stomping down the steps, annoyance built from the banging on the front door. Having left Lee to sleep in on his day off, leaving you with an almost giddy feeling of getting to yell at your porch guest.

Taking notice of the two silhouettes through the frosty French door windows before swinging open the door, ready to unleash hell. "What!" you say angrily, not ready to yell just yet, looking at the two women who stood on the porch who looked more annoyed than you.

"Does Lee live here?" one said, but the other cut in, "Of course he does." The comment was not clearly meant for you, as she pushed past you.

"Lee, get your ass down here!" She yelled with the other following in, "What the fuck!?" you say, turning to watch them stare at the stairs. Watching as Lee flew down the steps, looking confused and scared while still putting on his shirt.

"Look at you, a fucking mess," she says, laughing, causing the other to do the same. "I'm sorry, I don't know they were coming." He says to you first, then turning to them, "Why are you here?" he asks, making them laugh harder.

"You're lucky we even came out here, Lee," one says before the other chimes in. "We're staying here for a few days; mom's watching the kids, so we need a break," she says, looking around in disgust. "Don't be rude, Lee. Introduce us," the other says, arms crossed.

Taking a deep breath with an extended arm to your back, he introduced the two who welcomed themselves into your shared home: "These are my sisters, Lacey and Lynn," pointing to the both of them. Lacey being the one who pushed past you earlier.

"Where's the guest rooms?" Lynn said walking to the stairs, pushing past Lee. "No," you said, causing all of their heads to snap in your direction. "You're not staying here," you say, laughing lightly at the ridiculousness, yet they turn to Lee. "Look at you—no balls, no calls, no emails, not even welcoming us in." Lacey starts seeing real fear fall on Lee's face, breaking your heart.

"ENOUGH!" You yell, making them turn to you once again, "Get the fuck out of our house!" seeing as fear lay on all of their faces. "I did not wake up in the crack of fucking dawn just to hear two strangers bitch and moan at my husband!" Continuing your unleashing of hell watching as the two step back from it.

Your rant didn't stop one of them from turning to Lee. "Nuh uh, don't even fucking look at him," you warn before yelling once more "OUT!" watching as they rush out of the house.

Keeping up with them, sadly having missed them with the door, you slammed it shut, then locked it, taking a few breaths to calm down before looking over to Lee, stunned by the events that just unfolded, his hazel eyes staring at you.

"Are you okay?" you ask softly while rushing over to him. "Yeah," he says breathy, "No wonder you never told me about-" cutting you off as his lips smashed against yours, quickly feeling your back hit the wall. Breaking the kiss, allowing you both to catch your breaths, "I fucking love you," he says, voice deep while pushing against you, feeling just how much he loves you for defending his mere existence.

A/N: I wrote, proofread, and edited this while having double vision. Hope you enjoyed!

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is any grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩: @danveration

[voxmortuus]

#6 ☆ { licking } their neck to make them gasp with James Frey?

⇘ PAIRING:⇙ James Frey x F!Reader ⇘ UNIVERSE:⇙ A Million Little Pieces ⇘ WORD COUNT:⇙ 652 ⇘ TRIGGER WARNINGS:⇙ Angst (Arguing couple) | Foul Language | Heavy Petting | Makeup Smut Implied | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this… ⇘ NOTES:⇙ Sorry if this is total ass... but I hope this brings you some joy. Prompt from this list. ⇘ DIVIDER CREDIT:⇙ @nyxvuxoa ⇘ IMAGE CREDIT:⇙ @konront ⇘ My Master Masterlist ⇙ ⇘ My Aaron Taylor-Johnson Masterlist ⇙

It had been a crazy night, between the arguing, and the slamming of doors. It wasn't a night you'd want to remember. But what relationship doesn't have issues? Fuck all knows yours does, it always does. No matter how hard you try you always feel like your relationships are falling apart, but there's always one thing you can count on with James, it's that he's loyal to you, he's devoted to you, and he truly loves you. Sometimes misunderstandings happen, and sometimes you're the cause for them just as much as he is.

Sitting on the couch you look up to see him coming your way. You're still a little perturbed, crossing your arms you look over the length of him. He takes a seat on the couch and you scoot over a bit scoffing. His jaw clenches and he looks at you.

"This is ridiculous. Do you really need to carry this on any longer?"

"Well if you weren't such an asshole it wouldn't be a problem." you snap back.

"I'm the asshole? You're the one that couldn't understand basic haha funny bullshit. You took it personally." he stated.

"Yeah, I did! You know how I feel about that! And you kept going." you stated

"I did not keep going. And besides, I apologized." he defended.

"You apologized?! You think an apology is going to fix my feelings?! Fuck you!" you snap back. You're angry, you feel it bubbling,

"Fuck me?! Fine! FUCK ME!" He stood up pacing shaking his head. "You're acting like I intentionally came out and decided today was the day I was going to make fun of you! Instead pull the stick out of your ass and realize the damn joke in all of this!"

Standing up you walk to him, looking over his face. Your eyes well with tears and you shake your head. Shoving past him you walk toward the kitchen, getting a glass of water, you place your hands flat on the counter, drop your head and sigh softly. Maybe he was right. Maybe you did take that joke a little too personally. You didn't mean to, and he knew that.

"Shit..." you mutter to yourself.

Walking up behind you, he places his arms at either side of yours, leaning in he kisses the top of your head, and moves his way to your neck. His hands snake around, pulling you close as he presses himself against you. His hands slide down your tummy as one slips into your pants, the other slips under your shirt, your jaw clenches as he grips at you. You close your eyes, letting out a heavy breath.

He doesn't speak, nor do you. Maybe it was one of those moments where you didn't need to speak. His hands move over your flesh, feeling this hot feeling pulse through you. Biting your lip you rest the back of your head against his shoulder as he grips at you, feeling his hand slip a little further south as the other hand grips your breast tighter.

A soft whimper escapes you as he presses himself against you. His fingers find that swollen sensitive nub between your legs and he begins working you. Feeling this moment between you two, absolutely no words uttered. His lips graze your neck, and suddenly you feel his tongue slide along your neck, from the crook of your shoulder to right behind your ear. You gasp, and you moan softly.

His fingers and hands work you as you reach behind you and begin to rub over his pants. He groans. He turns you to look at him and plops you on the countertop, you go to speak, go to apologize, but instead he looks at you and kisses you deeply, he knows your sorry.

"I want to taste you..." He smirks as he lowers himself kneeling in front of the counter as he strips off your pants.

[oswildin]

The Good Kind (President Loki x GN!Reader)

Summary: You and Loki are rivals. Then why did he never harm you? Why did he never truly want you dead? Loki is complicated, but underneath it all… Perhaps he was more simple than you expected. (Enemies to Lovers vibe, slow burn, kinda angsty?)

Rating: SFW, All ages

Warnings: Mentions of blood, stab wound

A/N: Okay, this took me far too long to finish. Don’t know if I’m completely satisfied but I just cannot give anymore brain power to this idea lmao. Probably would’ve worked better as a fic series but like I just can’t mentally give that! Hope you enjoy!

Surviving in the void was… Well, how do you think surviving in the void was?

Cruel, harsh, dangerous…

You get the idea.

But it was especially difficult when you had rivals. In a place where everything came to die, still there was time for such things. It all seemed rather futile and pointless… But… Perhaps it made the days go by a little faster - or ‘void days’ anyway. Funnily enough, time moved differently at the end of time.

One of the most common variants found in the Void were Loki’s. Truly, take a walk for a few minutes and eventually you’d come across one. But the problem with encountering a Loki is trying to figure out whether they were the ‘good kind’ or the ‘bad kind’.

Now, of course, that was a generalisation. An easy way to box them in your mind. You weren’t naive, you understood the nuisances of Loki’s, you lived with four of them.

They found you when they were out searching for supplies in the wasteland, and you were thankful they did. If they hadn’t, Alioth would’ve devoured you or worse… Someone else may have found you. Cassandra was someone who most Loki’s - if not all - stayed well away from. They weren’t stupid. In fact, there was a tale that one Loki was brave, or foolish, enough to try and face her… And well… Let’s just say, it wasn’t him who told the tale.

(Dead. He was dead.)

No, Loki’s tended to keep their fighting amongst themselves. It would be comical if you hadn’t witnessed their hostility and attempts at backstabbing first hand. Surely they could see how ridiculous and ironic it was? Even at the end of time, Loki’s were fighting against their greatest enemy…

Themselves.

The group you had been taken in by were just grateful to have someone who wasn’t a Loki variant around. You brought some sense of order to their self-created chaos. The older variant was the most visibly exasperated most of the time, and you could hardly blame him. You felt exasperated too and that was without the factor of constantly arguing with yourself.

Aside from Alioth, pirates and the general savages of the void, your groups biggest rival was another group of Loki’s, lead by the variant who was known as ‘The President’. A title that you always refused to use. Even with the child, you never called him ‘King’ or ‘My Liege’. Although, he didn’t seem to mind so much, knowing you had no interest in acquiring the throne or any interest is the chaotic politics of the void. It all seemed rather pointless in such a place. Or maybe that was the real problem, that unlike the world you came from, trying to implement any form of order or system seemed like a moot point, especially when so many fought over wanting control over the wasteland.

You were currently sat on the edge of the manhole, your boots resting on the ladder. You knew not to go far, and being in such a position allowed you to warn the others of any danger and make your own quick retreat back inside your hideout. You sighed, the breeze brushing your skin as you enjoyed a moment of peace - or at least what you considered ‘peace’ in the void. However, you quickly spotted an approaching figure in the near distance, walking over a grassy mound as your eyes narrowed.

Your hand moved to rest on the hilt of your dagger in your belt, a precaution, ready to defend yourself if need be. However, you relaxed slightly as you realised it was the one who you refused to address as ‘The President’. He was alone, and he hadn’t seen you yet. You pursed your lips, thinking for a moment before shifting, turning your body so you could push yourself to stand on the grass, quietly closing the manhole cover. The last thing you needed was him finding your newest hideout spot after he discovered and recked your last one.

You made the decision to follow him, keeping a safe distance, your curiosity getting the better of you. It was rare you ever saw him without his little gang of followers. And something told you that something was amiss.

After a minute of following the variant, he came to a halt, spinning around as his icy eyes narrowed in on you. Shit. You quickly reached for your dagger, the metal making a slight noise as you removed it from your belt, seeing him conjuring his own dagger as you both began to stalk towards one another.

“Did you really think you could sneak up on me?” President Loki asked lowly, arrogance colouring his tone, that familiar sly glint in his eye.

“I wasn’t sneaking, I was following.” You replied, your own voice steady, your steps slowing as you both came to a stop, a few feet between you.

“Hm, either way-“ Loki raised his dagger, pointing the tip towards you. “You failed. You are rather bad at being inconspicuous.” He quipped, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“Why are you out here alone?” You ignored his comment, raising a curious brow. “Where’s your loyal possy?” Loki’s eyes narrowed further, darting around you both briefly to check for any sign of your own group, ensuring this wasn’t an ambush.

“They’re busy.” He simply stated, raising his chin as his gaze fell on you once more. “And what of yours?”

“Also busy.” You shrugged faintly, your fingers twitching around the hilt of your dagger. A tense moment of silence fell between you both before Loki lowered his dagger, satisfied it was safe to do so. Well, safe for now. With a flick of his wrist, the dagger disappeared in a green shimmer, allowing you to relax slightly.

“Do you have a death wish?” He asked, a hint of amusement on his features.

“In this place? Probably.” You said wryly, sheathing your dagger back into your belt as you let out a sigh. “Trouble in Loki paradise?” You asked, raising a brow. Loki’s jaw twitched faintly. “Oh dear, did one of your own try to backstab you?” You continued, voice filled with mock sympathy. “Even you can’t keep yourself in line it seems.”

“Watch your tongue, mortal.” Loki hissed, taking a step closer, his hands moving behind his back. “Or I won’t hesitate to cut it out.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Maybe it was because of how much of your time you spent surrounded by Loki’s, but any threat given had lost its effect after hearing so many of them. You folded your arms over your chest, tilting your head as you regarded him.

“Have you ever just… tried to talk it out? Instead of threatening your… followers?” You asked, making Loki blink before a breathy, mocking laugh left him.

“Threats invoke fear and fear makes others more… cooperative.” He replied smoothly, his own head tilting faintly. “Kings do not get their thrones by simply ‘talking’.”

“Maybe not, but Kings don’t get to keep their thrones without it.” You countered, the distant rumble of Alioth sounding through the air. Your eyes flickered over to the left, seeing the giant cloud monster lurking, searching for its next meal. Loki’s eyes lingered on your profile, a look of thought passing over his features before his gaze followed yours.

“I suggest you head back.” He muttered lowly, turning on his heel, facing away from you. “Before Alioth decides he fancies a rather defiant-tasting dinner.” You bit your lower lip lightly, knowing he was right. You looked back at him, seeing him beginning to walk away, continuing on his original path.

Good kind or bad kind? You were still figuring him out.

You’d had a few run-ins with him, and never once did he harm you. Never one did he even attempt to take you, use you as bait for the other Loki’s, or at all factor you into his schemes. It was confusing. Why? He had plenty of chances, this being one of them. Perhaps he just didn’t think you were worth his time. You were just a mortal after all, he had bigger fish to fry.

Unbeknownst to you, President Loki did indeed keep you alive for a reason… Probably the same reason as his fellow variants…

You weren’t a Loki.

Spending so long in the void with only himself, literally… Well, having someone who wasn’t him was… a strange comfort. He’d never admit it, of course. You were the potential of a different perspective, a different way of thinking, a different attitude. Even if you were just a mere mortal. But most mortals perished within the first few minutes of their arrival, and you… You survived. That was the only thing about you that was even remotely close to a Loki. Survival.

If he had stumbled across you when you first arrived, he was sure he would’ve killed you, or left you to Alioth. But his other variants had taken pity. But perhaps his way would’ve also been him taking pity, stopping you from being subjected to the harsh reality of the void. Maybe his cruelty would’ve been a kindness.

And maybe, he did hold a… tiny spec of respect for you. Not in the typical sense, but in twisted way. Perhaps he respected you, because you weren’t one of him. He didn’t even fully understand it himself. And he didn’t care to.

“You did what…?”

President Loki’s voice held a dangerous edge, his back straightening as he turned to look at the two fools before him. The two Loki variants shared a look of confusion at their leaders tone, clearly expecting him to be pleased with their actions. Loki took a slow step closer, his golden horns making him look even more intimidating as they glinted in the dim light of their hideout.

“Speak!” Loki’s voice barked, command lacing the simple word as one of the variants obeyed.

“W-we caught the mortal.” The woman Loki variant spoke, her blue eyes darting to her accomplice. “They were split from the others, and we saw an opportunity…” She paused. “For you, my liege.” She quickly added, brows furrowing faintly. Loki exhaled a deep breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as his hand moved to pinch to bridge of his nose. “We can use them to lure the others, ambush them!”

Another Loki variant walked past, holding an old chalice of wine in his hand as the President whirled around, smacking it from his hand, the cup clattering to the ground. He didn’t pay the innocent variants offence any mind, his hands moving to his hips, pushing back the hem of his blazer as they settled there.

“You beef-witted… Oafs!” Loki insulted them, irritation clear on his face as he whirled back around to face them. “You were sent to survey them! Not capture one of them!”

“We saw an opportunity for the upper hand and took it!” The other variant finally spoke, stepping forwards. “Which is more than you have been doing as of late.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he had made a mistake. But it was too late for apologies, Loki had summoned his dagger in a heartbeat, advancing on his idiotic variant, grabbing him by his makeshift armour. His dagger moved to press against the variants throat, his followers all pausing their chatter in the decrepit room as they watched with half amusement and half caution.

“You undermine me?” Loki growled, a snarl curling at his lip. “Your fierce leader? Your future King? The superior Loki?” He pressed the blade of the dagger closer to his variants neck, making his variant try and move his head further back, trying to put space between him and the cold metal.

Loki knew there had been whispers amongst his ranks, doubts about his leadership, his resolve for the throne… And he knew it wouldn’t be long before those whispers turned into action, a rebellion… And he couldn’t have that. No. He worked too hard to get here.

With a low sound of frustration, Loki pushed the variant back, the dagger disappearing in a flash of green. The variant took a breath, composing himself as he glared at his leader.

“If I hear any more treacherous words, any more doubt about my ability to lead us to victory…” Loki turned slowly, eyeing all of his followers, ensuring each one felt the gravity of his words. “And I’ll make sure Alioth is well fed.” He threatened, tense silence following. Satisfied he had made his point, he turned on his heel, stalking off towards the stock kept further inside the hideout, leaving his variants to stew over his warning.

Pushing aside the tatty curtain, Loki’s eyes fell upon you. You were sat on a crate, wrists and ankles bound with rope and tape over your mouth and you were… glaring at him. He could hardly blame you.

“Shoddy workmanship.” Loki remarked, raising a brow as he nodded towards the ropes, a hint of a smirk on his lips despite the lingering irritation. “I personally would’ve used magic, but some of my variants lack… finesse.” He added, letting out a short sigh before stepping through the curtain into the small room. It was filled with random scraps of metal and wood, cans of food and other items that could be useful to their survival.

Quite frankly, you were pissed.

Loki summoned his dagger once more, twirling casually between his fingers, his eyes narrowing. You eyed the dagger, feeling a hint of uncertainty creeping in. You had heard part of the disagreement that had just taken place, and couldn’t help but worry that… perhaps he would use this to his advantage now. He may as well, right? You were right there. Maybe he would use you to lure out the others or maybe he would just kill you, just to make a point to his doubters that he was still as fierce as he once was.

Silently, he stepped closer, your breaths quickening as you felt your heartbeat pound in your chest. He held your gaze, an unreadable expression on his face. He lifted the dagger, moving it towards you, making you squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for the harm to befall you.

But instead…

You heard the sound of rope being sliced through, the slight tug of your wrists before they fell free. Your brows creased, confused as your eyes reopened, looking down to see the rope in your lap. Your wrists were in fact now free.

“I assume you’re capable of untying your ankles yourself.” Loki commented casually, as if he hadn’t just toyed with you, once again sending his dagger back into his pocket dimension. “I don’t want to get my trousers dirty.” He added wryly, gesturing towards the stone floor, well aware that his trousers were already rather tatty.

He was… letting you free? Or at least, free from your restraints?

You felt suspicion and skepticism rise as you reached up to remove the tape from your lips, pulling at it as the sound filled the small space before a ‘fuck’ left your lips at the sting of it pulling at your skin. You took a breath, throwing the tape aside with distain before leaning forwards to eagerly untie your ankles.

“Think of this as a… I scratch your back, you scratch mine situation.” Loki continued, stepping back to give you some space, his eyes flickering around the stock.

Of course, there was an angle. There always was with a Loki.

“I’d rather you just killed me.” You muttered with a huff, making Loki’s lips tug into a brief smile - one that was toothy and sly.

“You see… Not everything I do involves a threat.” He mused, leaning against a nearby rickety shelving unit. “It’s a fair bargain, is it not? Your freedom for a favour. A favour which I can call upon at any time.”

You kicked the rope from your boots, pushing yourself to stand, an ache in your muscles from the fight you’d tried to put up against his two lackeys. “And by favour you mean betrayal.” You said lowly, narrowing your eyes. “Let me guess… I rat out my group, help you scheme your way to the boys throne?” Loki averted his gaze for a second, giving you your answer. Scoffing, you shake your head in disbelief, beginning to move towards the tatty curtain, giving him your own answer.

Smirking, Loki pushed off of the rickety shelving unit, watching as you shoved the curtain aside, features frowning. “I take that as a ‘we have a deal’?” Loki called after you in amusement, hands moving to clasp behind his back. He swore he heard you mutter a ‘asshole’ under your breath as you disappeared from view, and it only made his smirk widen. After a second, he followed you out, heading back into the din of his followers, seeing them all watching you stride confidently away, unfazed by their eyes all watching you. Loki’s gaze flickered over his group, a scowl forming on his face.

“Let them go.” He ordered lowly, sending one last warning glance before turning on his heel and venturing further into the hideout, away from prying eyes. As soon as he disappeared, a few members of the group shared glances with one another, seemingly skeptical of their leaders decision to let you walk free… Only adding to their suspicions that, perhaps, their leader wasn’t as ruthless as he made them believe.

Loki lounged on his makeshift throne, his mind elsewhere as his variants chatted amongst themselves. He really did grow tired of his own company. It was the same routine over and over - bickering, fights, backstabbing… Maybe his brother had a point to be irritated by his antics. He was disrupted from his thoughts by three of his followers rushing into the hideout, the three he had sent to do a perimeter check. Loki straightened in his throne, eyes narrowing. Something was wrong.

“My Liege-“ One of them began, a little breathless. “We spotted a group of Cassandra’s ruffians.” They informed him, making Loki’s grip on the arms of his seat tighten, irritation flaring. How dare they trespass on his land? But what another one of them said next, only heightened his attention.

“The mortal was there.”

Loki didn’t need a name, he knew exactly who they were referring to… And much to his own surprise, his blood ran cold. You were capable, yes, you had survived this long in the void… But Cassandra’s lot… They were a whole other level of savage.

Loki pushed himself to his feet, the variants that were sat instantly following suit, awaiting orders. He took a sharp breath, trying to remain calm despite the tug of concern that nagged at him in his chest, still clinging to that composure and strength he knew his followers needed to see from him.

“Gather your weapons and secure the perimeter.” Loki ordered, his voice steady and commanding. “Ensure they do not find our hideout.” Loki stepped down the few steps, his shoes clicking on the stone floor as his followers did as he commanded, adjusting the cuff of his suit jacket - a habit he had when he was on edge or anxious. “If any of those savages get close, you strike.”

As his variants moved about the hideout, Loki strode towards the three who had brought the news, a determined look in his eye. Stopping before one of them, he leaned in, eyes boring into theirs. “Where was the mortal?” He asked lowly, his tone holding no room for arguments or questions. The female variant raised her chin slightly, glancing at the other two before meeting his gaze again.

Leaving his variants to secure their hideout, Loki traipsed through the wasteland of the void, determination sharpening his features. Why did he care? Why was he so determined to ensure you were unharmed? He let out a sound of frustration, irritated at his own mind for stirring such thoughts. Caring was a weakness, especially in a place like this, in his position. Yet, something about you stirred memories of a simpler time. A time before everything went… to shit. Memories of connection… Connection to his mother, his brother… His father. Everything in Loki’s life had been complicated, at least to him, but something about you was… simple. And even that managed to stir such complex emotions he hadn’t felt in… centuries.

“Useless.” Loki muttered under his breath, shaking his head faintly. “Mortals. Weak and feeble.” He tried to remind himself, yet his eyes continued to scan the land around him for any sign of you. Maybe letting you go to the chaos of the void would be a kindness… Even as that thought went through his mind, his heart - something rather dusty - tugged in discontent.

He couldn’t.

Movement caught the corner of his eye, his head snapping towards it as he prepared to summon his seidr, to protect his territory from the enemy. But his posture relaxed as he recognised the figure.

You.

And you were wounded.

His feet moved quicker than his head as he strode towards you, his brows creased. As he neared, he saw your hand clutching your side, seeing the scrapes and cuts on your face. You had survived. That familiar flicker of respect appeared in his chest at that fact.

“You’re resilient.” Loki called steadily. “I’ll give you that.” Your gaze lifted, eyes meeting his when he stopped a few feet away. You watched as his gaze drifted over you, clearly assessing your current state. You were hunched faintly, clearly in pain, and Loki mentally cursed himself before he drew closer, stopping right next to you. “Why do you insist on wandering alone?” He sighed, shaking his head.

“Why do you?” You quipped back, voice strained. Loki let out a sharp breath, pursing his lips. Of course, the answer was peace. A bit of solace from the chaos you both found yourselves surrounded by - Loki variants. Clicking his tongue, Loki’s slender fingers reached towards your hand at your side, prying it away so he could take a better look. His jaw tensed as he took in the damage, feeling a wave of anger at Cassandra’s savages for harming you.

“You’re losing blood.” He stated lowly, making you scoff. Loki sent a warning glare, but you missed it, busy trying to remain on your feet. “Come.” His hand fell from yours, allowing you to once again grip your side as he began to head in the opposite direction to his hideout. Your brows furrowed in confusion. Where was he going? “Hurry up.” Loki snapped. “Unless you truly do have a death wish.”

With a sigh, you began to follow, Loki making no move to slow down. Perhaps this was it. Perhaps he was going to lure you away, out of sight and finally finish you off. You stumbled slightly, wincing at the jolting action of your body, making Loki halt and whip round to look back at you. He saw the way your face scrunched in pain, noticing the exhaustion in your breaths. With a deep breath of his own, he headed back towards you.

Without saying a word, he moved to your side, an arm wrapping around your shoulders before he bent his knees, his other arm slipping behind your knees. You barely had time to register what was happening as he lifted you easily, holding you in his arms. Your eyes widened faintly, looking up at his face. He refused to meet your eyes, keeping his own ahead.

“Do try not to bleed on my suit.” He muttered lowly, continuing to walk once again.

This was a strange way to lead someone to their death…

Loki kicked open the rickety shack’s door, the wood creaking as he did so, stirring you from your half lulled state. He hadn’t taken you far, but it was definitely not his hideout you were at. Lifting your head from his shoulder, he walked you both inside, heading towards a tatty cot in the corner of the room as he set you down - a lot gentler than you had expected. Your brows furrowed, watching him as he straightened, still not meeting your gaze. He turned away from you, striding gracefully towards the other side of the room, giving you a chance to take in your new surroundings.

It was dimly lit, a shattered window being the only light source, dusty books were littered on the rickety furnishings along with a few odd trinkets and such. It was only when you noticed the familiar splash of emerald green of a blanket at the end of the cot that you realised…

This was his space. His own personal hideout… Away from prying eyes.

“Yes.” Loki finally spoke, breaking the silence. “This is my… personal haven.” He added wryly over his shoulder, finally turning to look at you. When your eyes finally landed on him again, you noticed the lack of his signature horns that usually sat upon his head, now set aside on the old, small writing desk. Without it, he looked less… sharp. His features weren’t accentuated by the shadows from his horns, now looking much softer. In his hands were medical supplies, bandages and gauze.

He was… offering help?

“Don’t look so surprised.” Loki quipped, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. “Even I need a break from myself from time to time.” He mused, raising a brow. Purposefully, he approached, his shoes making the wood beneath his feet creak with each step, before he placed the supplies on the cot beside you, elegantly lowering himself to kneel on one knee before you. You had yet to say a word, still taking in the situation you found yourself in.

“No one else knows about this place.” Loki continued, his voice calm. “And I’d like to keep it that way.” His eyes held yours for a moment, searching yours - it was almost a silent plea. Reaching for the gauze, he gestured for you to lift your leathers slightly, a hint of tentativeness in the request. He wasn’t used to patching up others. This was… new for him. Shifting on the cot, you twisted yourself slightly so he could access your side easier, your bloodied fingers slowly peeling the leather up, revealing the stab wound you have received. Thankfully, you had managed to angle yourself defensively during the scuffle, making the attacker miss anything vital, but leaving a rather nasty gash. Loki’s azure eyes flickered to the wound, his jaw tensing again, and you swore you saw a flicker of anger go through his gaze.

“It could be worse.” He uttered through gritted teeth, moving to carefully press the gauze against your wound, making you hiss, body tensing. Loki felt a flair of regret, but he knew it was necessary. “Bear in mind… I’m not a healer.” He murmured. Being this close to Loki, you could see every detail of his face - the faint scars, the flecks of green in his eyes, the lines around his brows and mouth. He looked… human. It was as if Loki could sense you staring, his eyes snapping up from his hands to meet yours. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to stare?”

“Sorry.” You found yourself muttering, finally speaking again, averting your gaze quickly. Loki’s lips tugged upwards briefly, eyes dropping back to his hands. After a few moments of silence, he spoke again.

“I didn’t say stop.”

You couldn’t help but let out a huff of amusement, which shifted into a wince. “Asshole.” You shook your head, missing the way Loki’s smirk widened into a quick grin. Within these walls, Loki could let his guard down - if only a little. This was his safe space, a place where he could hang up the role of fierce leader and trickster, just for a short while.

Gently, he pulled away the gauze, the material having soaked up some of the blood so he could see the wound clearer. “You’ll live.” He told you quietly, discarding the bloodied gauze to reach for another. “For now.” With a quiet sigh, he once again pressed the new gauze against your side.

“That sounds like a threat.” You murmured wryly, glancing at him. Loki met your gaze, letting your words hang in the air for a moment. It felt like there was a shift between you both, the underlying tension that had always been present bubbling to the surface. Ever so slightly, your breath hitched, suddenly feeling nervous - but not in the usual way the void elicited.

“No.” The word came from Loki’s lips, barely above a whisper, his head ever so faintly shaking. A pause. “It’s a promise.”

The statement was spoken with a softness that you hadn’t seen from Loki before, a level of acceptance. Loki was complicated, yet in these moments he felt… simple. No matter how reluctant he tried to appear, or how aloof and cold… Beneath it all, he did care… In his own way. And it showed, in his own way too. It wasn’t an outright confession, but it was as close as you would get… That he did have a reason for keeping you alive, for not harming you, for not wanting harm to befall you…

Finally, Loki tore his gaze away, feeling the weight of the moment in his chest. It became a little too much, a little too intense. But… it didn’t feel wrong. Delicately, he once again removed the gauze, reaching for a new one so he could finally wrap your wound.

“When you get back to your group, it will need properly cleaning.” Loki cleared his throat, voice clear once more. “And try to avoid any more sharp objects.” He added wryly, raising a brow and giving a pointed look. “It would be… a shame if my rival were to perish from such a boring form of death.” And just like that, your usual dynamic clicked back into place, making your lips curl into a faint smirk.

“I shall aim for something more adventurous next time.” You quipped, a softer edge to your voice.

The good kind.

He was definitely the good kind.

[redtsundere-writes]

Jinx | Sukuna Ryomen

mma fighter!sukuna ryomen x femalecoach!reader

Part 5. New & Old

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Sypnosis: Sukuna is a world champion with anger issues. It's believed by many that he is untrainable. Yeah, you can't train him, but you can dominate him. Contents: Fighting. Sukuna being Sukuna. female reader being dom. Jinx AU (the BL, not the character from lol) Warnings: Mentions and sexual harassment. Angst. Humiliation. Cursed words. Word Count: 2743 words. A/N: Hello peeps! Another day, another slay. I really enjoy writing this fic and I am really happy that you seem to like it as well. Thanks! :3 Ps. Fuck me you Joo Jaekyung

“Cheers!” We exclaimed as we clinked our beers.

We had finally returned home after a great victory in Dubai. The bar was full, the food kept coming to our long table and the mugs seemed bottomless. The entire Team Black was gathered to celebrate the crushing victory of our terrifying champion. The air was filled with laughter, pleasant chatter and popular music. Sukuna was at the head of the table, watching everyone like the king he is while wisely drinking water.

“C’mon, drink one with your coach!” I asked with a goofy smile due to the effects of alcohol. I had two mugs already, and it was starting to show.

“No. Do you know how many calories that have?” He rejected me completely.

There were few things I knew about him in the short time I have been his coach. Sukuna was grumpy, foul-mouthed and a jerk in every definition of the word, but his strongest characteristic is that he is ridiculously disciplined. He was a fucking ninja with incredible mental strength. He invited the whole team to eat burgers, wings, nachos and drown themselves in beer, while he just drank plain water and ate a veggie burrito. Sukuna was a great athlete, but he needed to learn how to relax once in a while.

“That only means that I have to maintain my title. I can't lose focus now,” he answered without paying me much attention. He surely noticed my drunkenness.

“That’s why you are always so cranky, you are always thinking of fighting and being a champion. It’s okay to enjoy life once in a while,” I tried again.

“You enjoyed too much and look where you are,” he exposed me, pounding his glass against the table to emphasize his point.

My body moved away from him at the loud bang. Everyone turned to look at us to see what it was all about, but when they saw that it was just another Sukuna tantrum, they went back to their own thing. My hand went straight to my neck. I avoided his gaze and resigned myself to continue drinking.

“You say it like it’s something bad,” I mumbled before taking a shy sip. “I refuse to become a coach,” Sukuna spat angrily.

“You couldn’t become one even if you tried.” Someone behind me defended me out of the blue.

I turned around, and my cheeks burned instantly. It was Choso. He's standing there like a guardian angel with a dark aura ready to defend me from a mean demon. He gave me a mischievous compliance smile that I couldn't help but mimic.

“It’s good to see you, bro! Sit down,” Yuuji, who was seated next to me, offered him his seat.

“Who the fuck invited you?” Sukuna frowned.

“Yuuji. He said he wanted to introduce me to someone,” Choso answered without looking away from me as he sat down.

"This guy always knows how to surprise me," I thought as I scanned him from head to toe. Seeing him up close was like paying attention to a piece of contemporary art, simple yet complicated at the same time. His long hair was down and neatly combed, his unruly curtain bangs fell perfectly to the sides of his eyes, framing them perfectly. You could tell he was Sukuna's brother by his sharp features and outlined eyebrows. I could imagine him frowning without needing to experience it.

“He is all yours. I’m drinking with Megumi,” Yuuji said, after introducing me to his brother for a second time. He went to the other side of the table to drink with his buddy, who was drinking alone.

He gave me a discreet wink that I could only see. That's when I realized what he had done. This was the "date" he had arranged for us as a favor. I hadn't been on a date in years, so I was super nervous. How could I not be? I wasn't ready. My hair was in a tight ponytail, I was wearing athletic clothes, and I was tired from jet lag. He looked so good in his denim jacket, baggy jeans and his smooth cologne that brushed my nose.

“Yuuji has told me so much about you,” I said, trying to hide my shyness.

“What a coincidence. Yuuji had also told me so much about you.” That was unexpected.

“Really? What did he tell you?” I asked, curious.

“That you are patient, nice and very cute,” he complimented me with a shy smile. “He didn’t tell me that last thing, it's just what I am seeing,” he corrected.

"He's so cute!" I thought excitedly. I could feel my poor heart in love running around in circles in my chest and my hands were starting to sweat, but I was calm. Who am I kidding? My cheeks hurt from grinning like an idiot. I felt like an awkward teenager in front of her out of her league crush.

“Is that your pickup line?” Sukuna joked.

“Shut up!” I barked, so he wouldn’t interrupt us. “Thanks, I think you are really cute as well,” I answered Choso’s flirting, paying him all of my attention. He looked a bit shocked that I was able to scold his brother so easily.

“Yuuji told me you used to fight in the UFC as well,” he said, ignoring Sukuna’s comment.

“I was the best. There are some of my fights on YouTube, my nickname is ‘Medusa’s Snake’,” I flexed proud as I poured him a beer from the bucket in the center of the wooden table, surrounded by delicious greasy snacks.

“A very poetic nickname. Did you know Medusa means protector in Greek? I think it goes well with you.”

When my first coach named me like that, I was flattered. Medusa was the mortal gorgon, one of the three daughters of the god of the sea, Forcys, and the goddess of sea monsters and the dangers of the sea, Ceto. She became the main enemy of men after suffering a painful rape by Neptune in front of the sanctuary of Minerva. Although early poets depicted her as a monster from birth, along with her immortal sisters, later writers claim that she was originally a beautiful maiden, but was turned into a monster by Athena or Minerva.

“Thanks, you are the first one who says it,” I said as my cheeks blushed. “Do you like mixed martial arts?”

“I used to practice kick boxing regularly, until someone discouraged me from continuing.” I noticed that he looked at Sukuna when he said “someone.”

I couldn't blame him. The active UFC community is pretty small. I wouldn't want to continue coexisting in the same environment as my biggest traitor. Besides, sports publicists love to compare athletes who share some sort of bond and spread drama. If Choso kept practicing to a professional level, reporters wouldn't leave him alone if they found out the champ fucked his fiancée.

The night flowed its course and the conversation continued to flourish between us. We drank, laughed and shared funny anecdotes. Choso was so nice, just like Yuuji, but shared that strong aura like Sukuna. He was the best of both worlds. Elegant, kind and respectful - what more could a girl ask for in a man?

Choso had to leave early because he had to work in the morning. He said goodbye to everyone except Sukuna, and I offered to escort him out. The vibrant street was still alive despite the darkness that ruled the skies as it was so late in the afternoon. People were still passing down the street in beautiful attire under the colorful lights of passing bars and restaurants. It had been a pleasant evening. It had been a long time since I had had so much fun.

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” Choso smiled friendly. His shoulders were relaxed, and his kind eyes conveyed to me that he was more comfortable than before.

“I say the same thing,” I smiled at him as well. He slipped his hands into his pants pockets and avoided my gaze out of nowhere. That comfort turned to anguish again, so my smile gradually disappeared.

“Yuuji told me you were interested in me…” he sighed. “Look, you are a great girl, but right now, I have a complicated situation with my brother, and dating his coach doesn’t sound like a good idea.” He scratched his neck embarrassed, still avoiding my sight. “So it was about that,” I thought.

“I get it. Thanks for giving me a chance at least,” I said kindly. The last thing I wanted to do was make him feel bad for rejecting me, but I wasn’t going to give up so easily. At the end of the day, I am a fighter at heart. “The truth is that I am not planning on being his coach for a long time. Seeing him holding his belt with pride on the ring, reminded me that I will be there again one day.”

I caressed my injured area with nostalgia. I missed being the star with the white lights illuminating my every dangerous move. I missed the audience yelling my name with excitement as they watched me destroy another one of my opponents. I missed the adrenaline coursing through my veins as I fought for my honor. Choso looked at me again, seeming confused by my answer but hopeful for the explanation.

“What I am trying to say is that when I become a protector again, I’ll call you,” I said with a proud smile. His eyes widened, surprised when he understood what I was trying to say.

“I’ll wait for your call then,” he smiled.

With that, he kissed my blushing cheek goodbye and drove off down the sidewalk. As I watched him get into his car, I stood a while longer by the door processing what had happened that night. "You're going to be mine," I affirmed, sure of myself.

Another day at the gym. Another day in hell. By this point the gym was my hell on earth. Dealing with the devil himself was complicated, sometimes there were good days when he would do everything I asked him to do without batting an eye and others were the fights were no longer physical, but verbal. Over the months as his coach, I had learned to deal with his heavy attitude.

“¡Ten kicks!” I ordered as I placed the cushion he was supposed to kick at the height of my stomach. “1, 2, 3…!” I counted every hard kick. I made sure to hold the cushion tightly so it wouldn’t fly away. “…7, 8, 8, 8, 8…!” I repeated with a smug face.

“Stop it!” He yelled without losing the beat.

“Don’t give up! …8, 9, 9, 9, 9, 9…!” I yelled, gripping the cushion hard. Sukuna huffed but kept kicking like the champ he is. “…9, 10!” I finished counting after 30 kicks.

“Go fuck yourself…” He sighed mad.

“For that, another 10,” I said, pulling the cushion back up.

“I missed seeing you like this.”

My heart stopped the moment I heard that voice. I could recognize it in any place, time or date. I knew exactly who it was and didn't want to turn around to confirm it, but I had to face it. The UFC world is small, so it was inevitable that we would meet again at some point, but I never thought it would be like this. Sukuna glared at the person behind me, sure he was wondering why a snoop was in his gym. I gulped dryly before confronting the biggest son of a bitch I'd ever met.

“Don’t frown like that, you will ruin your pretty face, beautiful,” he said with a pout. My jaw contracted when I heard such stupidity.

Naoya Zenin. One of the best fighters in the Zenin family, the current middleweight champion and my second coach. If I had to thank one person for teaching me how to deal with Sukuna, it would be this bastard. Because if I could survive him, I could survive anything. An arrogant, self-centered, stubborn man disguised as an angel incarnate. He was standing there with his stupid minions that followed him around like they were his ducklings.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked, mad at his bare presence. From my tone and volume, some fighters stared at the scene.

“Sukuna lets you talk like that? I think you need a muzzle, bitch,” he smirked, as if it was something normal to say.

I wanted to beat him to silence. I let go of the pad with a thud and took off my protective gloves as I approached him to jump him. I was ready to beat the fuck out of him. I didn't care if I got fired, ruined my neck, or got beat to death, I had to get that stupid grin off his face no matter what. I couldn't let him say those kinds of things to me just because.

When I was about to jump out of the ring, Sukuna grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him. He forced me to stay close to his body, so I could only see his chest. I tried to break free from his grip, but his arm wrapped perfectly around my wait. My body trembled like a Chihuahua ready to bite. I looked him in the eye, asking him to let me handle this, but he ignored me.

“Can you leave my coach out of this?” He asked, clearly annoyed.

“Yours?” Naoya laughed out loud. “She is mine since she gave me her weak ass,” he said with a wide grin full of confidence.

I closed my eyes in embarrassment as soon as he said that. I didn't want Sukuna to find out like that. I wanted to erase him from my life forever, but he always managed to infiltrate like heavy humidity. I couldn't see him, but I knew he had a relaxed posture, his sharp eyes scanning my figure up and down and critiquing my current position.

“I don’t give a shit about what kind of relationship you have, but now, she only listens to me. You better get the fuck out of my gym before I release her so she can beat your ass,” he barked in my defense.

I looked at him in surprise at that answer. His red eyes were calm but determined. He meant every word he said. If Sukuna allowed me to, I could beat him at my pleasure. I wasn't going to waste the opportunity, I would make him very proud.

“Get the fuck out?! I just arrived to introduce myself as your next opponent!” He yelled excitedly. The gym looked at him in shock at the statement, especially me. Sukuna was going to face Naoya for the belt of the light heavyweight category?! “The UFC accepted the fight today. I was so excited that I came all the way to see you! I am a big fan!”

“You already saw me, now fuck off. I won’t repeat myself,” Sukuna asked, surprisingly keeping his composure.

“At least let me say goodbye to my cute wife,” Naoya pouted.

“I am not your wife, motherfucker!” I yelled, turning around suddenly to dispute that fat lie he dropped. Sukuna held me back to not jump him.

“Awww, just like the good old days,” Naoya grinned. “That’s how it is going to be then, see you later…” he turned around to go back from where he came from with his stupid side chicks. “…maybe sooner than you think,” he winked at me before leaving.

I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists in frustration at not being able to say anything else to her stupid face. I pulled myself out of Sukuna's grasp. We both stood in silence while the others murmured and whispered about the strange encounter. I didn't know how to explain the situation to him, I didn't even want to, but I had to.

“I…”

“I don’t give a shit,” he said before returning my gloves that I tossed earlier. “Let’s get back to work.” I took the gloves, relieved.

“From now on, I won’t teach how to be a floor fighter,” I said as I adjusted my gloves around my fingers. “I will teach you how to kill that motherfucker,” I stated strongly. A wide grin appeared on his proud face.

“You have all my attention now.”

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[mothfables]

Snail Ch. 4 W.I.P.

Silence sits heavy over the camp after Legend’s reveal.

Warriors sits frozen on the other side of the fire, his chest heavy with leaden horror at what he’d learned. He’d known Legend held a strong dislike for soldiers of any kind - the other never made an effort to hide it - but he hadn’t expected… this.

He swallows as something in his stomach twists painfully. Legend had been a child when he’d been thrust into his first quest. He knows, intellectually, factually, that many of his brothers were the same. But actually hearing it? Seeing the proof of it before his very eyes? It sits heavy in his soul, molten and dark.

He has no doubt that Legend had had to defend himself against those soldiers, probably even kill some of them just to keep himself alive.

He doesn’t hold it against his brother. He can’t, not when he knows there was likely no other choice. Also, he refuses to be like those knights, putting the blame on a literal child; even if, as Legend said, it was due to magic. Even if it truly wasn’t their fault, it still happened. They still hurt him.

And then it happened again.

Warriors knows the name Yuga: he’d fought against the man in the War. He had been a pain to fight - using that ridiculously gaudy staff of his to summon paintings that in turn summoned things like lightning or spears, sometimes directly overhead of his targets. If one was particularly unluckily they would have that staff turned on them and caught up in one of those very paintings themselves. Wars has to fight a grimace at the memory.

He suppose the only upside was that Yuga hadn’t cared very much about Cia and Ganon’s plans, instead going along for his own gain; at least until he grew bored of playing along. (Wars still isn’t entirely sure of how turning the entire world into a painting would work.)

…The point is, fighting the man with an army at his back and as an adult (or near enough) was hard enough. He can barely imagine doing so entirely alone, at whatever age Legend was when he fought him.

Wars stares sadly at his (now very little) brother, curled up in Wind’s lap with that dead expression on his face.

He doesn’t know what to do about this. He doesn’t know what he can do; he and Legend weren’t particularly close before, though they’d been on their way to becoming friends. Now, though, all of that progress has probably been wiped away, leaving only fear behind.

The captain isn’t blind- he can’t afford to be. He’s seen the way the boy avoids him and Time, keeps a wary eye on those he’s deemed the knights of the group.

And Twilight, too, but not for the same reason. Wars has a sinking feeling that has more to do with the more canine side of their Rancher. Though whether Legend remembers from being older or it’s something he can just sense, Warriors isn’t sure.

Eventually Wind gets up and heads over to their bedrolls, Sky following a moment later. The two of them settle down with Legend between them, and everyone else takes that as their cue to get started on their evening routines.

Warriors sets his own bedroll a fair distance away. He hopes the space will (at least subconsciously) help Legend feel a little safer.

He’s nearly finished getting ready for bed when the sound of soft humming drifts through the camp. He glances over to see Sky propped on one arm, threading his fingers through Legend’s hair as he hums. Wars can’t see his face from where he is but the boy does look more relaxed than before.

He’s glad.

Legend deserves a good night’s sleep after all he went through. Wars gets the feeling such a thing was few and far between long before he started this adventure. He would not be surprised if nightmares continue to be a common occurrence for his brother, if not worse than usual. Young minds simply aren’t equipped to handle such horrific things like what he’s experienced.

[starfall-spirit]

And the Starlight Kissed Your Face Again

For @reverie-tales

Read on Ao3

Summary: There’s nothing more special to Rhys and Feyre than spending Starfall with their family, but then they also don’t hesitate to take a few moments of alone time when someone so kindly offers to keep an eye on their children.

Nothing could quite match the buzzing excitement of a sunset on Starfall evening, a blanket of stars replacing the dusk light. Another hour or two and the migration would begin. Laughter and merriment were overflowing—as was the wine they'd brought out for the occassion. Feyre was already feeling the first glass hit her when her mate returned to her with a fresh flute. "Oh no. Food first, Rhys. We have kids to watch and you know I'm a lightweight."

Several squeals cut through the music and chatter surrounding them and a moment later she found their two children weaving through the crowd on quick feet, Vivian and Kallias' daughter on their heels. "The children are minding themselves, darling. Neither of them are going to fall off of the balcony with wards in place. Relax." The glasses vanished from his hands and she was in his arms once again. "It's Starfall, my love. Dance with me."

She sighed. The kids were safe and having fun and Feyre and Rhys knew every person around them by name. He was right.

"I'm always right, darling."

She laughed aloud at that. "Hardly. But you can keep dreaming."

He leaned down to kiss her, putting an end to her quips and letting her melt against him. She'd never tire of this. Never stop drowning in the taste of him. "Is there a moment we might have a chance of  seeing you two with your faces detached?"

She broke the kiss, wincing slightly before the intruding voice processed. "Lucien! You're here!" Rhys scowled when she squirmed out of his hold, but released her in the end so she could welcome Elain and Lucien with a hug. "It feels like ages since I've seen you."

His lips ticked up when she withdrew to embrace her sister. "It's been a busy few months, I'll admit. But we wouldn't dare miss Starfall."

She beamed, squeezing her sister's hand. "And how have you been, Elain?"

"Tired," her sister admitted, pressing her hand to her swollen belly with a smile, "but excited all the same. I can't believe I only have a few months left. The time's flown."

After being mated for nearly four years now, Elain and Lucien had been blessed with their first child. Tucked away in Day, the pair had been discreet in the early weeks, but nothing stayed quiet for long between sisters. Especially since they'd become closer and started writing after Elain and Lucien were mated and began residing in the Day Court. It had taken time, but they were all better for the healing they'd finally achieved together. "So, tell me what you've been up to, Elain. I've hardly heard a peep since your last visit."

"I'm sorry. I've been a bit distracted, preparing for the baby. The nursery design is about the only thing I get to lift a finger on nowadays. You warned me he'd be overbearing, but I didn't realize it would be so ridiculous." Rhys and Lucien both frowned, looking ready to defend their actions, only to be interrupted by high-pitched squeals and the staccato of little feet running across the red stone floor. Her sister staggered back slightly when Nyx made impact, now tall enough to wrap his arms around her middle while little Roxana could only reach her skirts. Their mouths were already running a mile a minute. Feyre had to give her credit, considering she couldn't catch more than a few words out of the jumble as their mother. "That is quite a tale," she replied when they finally stopped to breathe. "You'll have to tell us more while we're here with you. Why don't you two give Uncle Lucien a hug now."

Scurrying over, they flung themselves at Lucien with equal enthusiasm. He grinned right back, ruffling Nyx's dark hair and hoisting Roxana up with one arm. "You've gotten bigger, little girl. How tall are you now, hm?" With the kids well on their way to complete distraction, Feyre caught Elain making a little shooing motion. Go on, she mouthed. Feyre tried to protest, but Rhys was already herding her closer to the edge of the party to winnow away a bit more discreetly.

"Only a few minutes, Rhys," she mumbled when his magic cleared from around them. "They aren't here to watch the kids."

"Of course, darling." He already had her against the wall behind them, breath hot against her neck before his mouth closed over her pulse, pinching down. She bit her lip to keep from crying out and alerting the party above to exactly what was going on. "There's a shield in place already."

"W-what?"

"Don't try to hide a sound from me, mate." Gently pulling her away from the wall, he threaded his fingers through her hair, her next groan silenced by his lips on hers. "Every day you look so damn beautiful. Every day I think my life can't get any more perfect. And every day you prove me wrong." With her next breath she was being guided down to her back, his hand still cradling her head to keep it from knocking back onto the stone. One hand fell to her ankle, his loose hold gliding up her leg to raise the hem off her dress little by little, placing tender kisses and bites along the way. "Let me take you beneath the stars, Feyre."

She couldn't deny this. Couldn't deny him. He hummed into her mind, pleased when the fabric of her dress passed her waist. His fingers traced the edge of her panties before slipping beneath them. "These are new. Too pretty to ruin just yet."  In the last eight years of their mating they had to have set some sort of record in lingerie sales with how many sets he'd either misted or ripped to shreds. But that was her last concern now that he had two thick fingers pumping a slow, torturous rhythm inside of her. "Oh," she groaned. Her hips jerked upward and he chuckled, doing nothing to quicken the pace, content to maintain his steady pace until it drove her to her undoing. "Rhys."

"Yes?" he purred, appearing entirely unruffled. She knew better. Knew him better than anyone.

Jerking him down by the back of his neck, she pulled him close, nearly shivering at the feeling of his chuckle against her neck. "Fill me up, please. I need to feel you inside of me."

He cursed, low and filthy. She had him now. "My sweet little mate, so wet for me." A snap and their clothes were folded up in a neat pile nearby, his hard length pushing into her in one steady stroke. She clenched down hard, shaking like a leaf as his hips forced her to open for him. "Fuck. Tight little cunt, taking me so well."

He drew back a few inches, snapping his hips forward sharply enough to force a hoarse cry from her lips. "Rhys!"

"You can take it, darling." Slow and brutal would be his game tonight. She whimpered under the next stroke, but he didn't stop, didn't gentle or change his pace. She'd even take a hard fucking right now. Anything but this sluggish climb to insanity. Rhys reached out to tweek her nipple and she gripped his shoulders hard, knowing her nails had to be breaking skin. "Good girl. You just hold onto me nice and tight while I take care of you." His mouth came down to sooth the sting and she shuddered again.

"Rhys, more, please."

Raising his head again he pressed the softest kiss to her jaw, then her nose, and finally her mouth. Gripping her hips tight, he rocked into her a little faster, at last building the friction between them. Lips otherwise occupied, he spoke into her mind once again. "Come for me, mate."

She spiraled up higher and higher, praying his shield had held when her scream pierced the air and she came crashing down, her reality lost to sensation. Rhys was close behind, buried deep inside of her as he finally reached his release. "Cauldron, Feyre."

Feyre moaned again as he rolled his hips through the last of his orgasm before withdrawing slowly and easing her up and into his arms, murmuring soft praise in her ear as she finally gathered her senses. "There they are," he whispered. And peeling her eyes open, she was met with the most exquisite Starfall yet. "I haven't seen a migration like this in nearly a century."

Raising her head from his chest, she eyed their folded clothes then glanced up to where their family waited for them beyond the red stone and sound shield. "Still want to dance with me tonight?"

A few moments later they had almost rid themselves of the evidence of what they'd done. Returning to the party, Feyre let him pull her in close, kissing her forehead. And as their children found them again she felt the starlight dance on her skin. And she did not try to hide it, for her joy could not be contained.

~~~~~

Taglist: @lulling-night-sky // @edgyellie // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @darling-archeron // @goddess-aelin // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiya-whitethorn // @acotar-fanns // @jealousveronya // @acourtofwips // @gwynkyrie // @corcracrow // @thelovelymadone

[butmakeitgayblog]

How will Clarke learn that Medi finds her (body) extremely attractive?

Well this story is only told through Lexa's POV so from her perspective, she does not know when Clarke figured out just how attracted to her she was. I mean eventually Lexa herself pushes through her own charade of grumpiness and becomes much more sweet and affectionate, but that is after a rather... upsetting split between them shall we say. So in her mind, Clarke wasn't entirely aware of her attraction and affection until she made it blatantly obvious, because, ya know, she's just so good at hiding her thirst and burying her feelings (you can read that as sarcasm)

But in reality, Clarke figured it out the night they sit beside the fire and get drunk together. This moment in particular (sneak peek)

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The frayed ends of her shift grow hazy in the flicker and dance of fire light. She traces her fingers along its edging made silken and tattered with time. She considers her words a moment, but only a moment, before they bubble up and out of her mouth in a slurred offering. 

"Would you like to touch my face?"

Clarke half chokes on a sip of wine. "Excuse me?"

"My face." Lexa scooches along the circle to close the distance. "So that you will know my face."

The orange and blue cast of light across Clarke's face makes her answering smile look like something holy; as though their humble feast of laughter and fermented wine were a part of some complex ritual to honor the gods. 

"That's not actually how that works," Clarke says in a good natured chuckle.

The revelation makes Lexa frown. "I thought that was how those without sight familiarized themselves with others."

That god-like smile slopes all the more lazily as Clarke hands the bottle back. "A silly myth. I doubt I'd know one face from any other by feel. Kiss, perhaps, but just feeling, I suppose not."

Lexa feels her cheeks flush. "... Oh."

"I'm not entirely sure where that idea started,” Clarke muses, before letting out a wine-sharpened snort. "Probably some blind person wanting to cop a feel all over people."

The snap of the fire feels deafening in Lexa's humiliation because of course it had been a ridiculous thought and of course she'd just had to say it. 

"I could still try though."

Lexa's head snaps around at the tiny offering. "What?"

"I could still try." 

"You said it was stupid."

"Not in so many words. But even still, so what?"

"So then… let's not?"

"No, no." Clarke shrugs and tosses the braided crown of grass into the fire. She carefully shifts herself to face Lexa and brushes her hands clean. "Come here."

Lexa catches the searching hand from the air and drags it back down. "No. Stop."

"Why? It was your idea."

"That was before you said it'd be foolish." 

"So then be foolish with me."

The universe is surely too big in that moment with how tiny Lexa's heart feels knocking against her chest. 

Clarke's hand comes up from her lap and Lexa takes it without thought. She feels the calloused patches that litter the palm leans and presses the soft pads of her fingers the apple of her cheek. 

"You're warm," Clarke says with a thoughtful hum. As though a note of surprise colors her words. But she only presses in with more assuredness. Cups her hand to the raging blush of Lexa's cheek more fully. 

The touch sends Lexa's stomach into a funny sort of flop as she swallows down the sudden urge to defend such a normal thing as her body temperature, right along with the urge to yank back. Because those fingers caress up to her temple and that thumb sweep gently along to the curve of her brow. Fingers tickle along the swell of her cheekbone and tap lightly at the fold of her nose. She watches with baited breath as Clarke seems to swallow against some unknown emotion herself as she traces the bridge of Lexa's nose down to the cupid bow of her mouth.

Lexa can't help the way her jaw goes slack, mouth opening enough just enough to suck in some much needed air as Clarke's touch stutters and stalls over the chapped fullness of her lips and lingers there. 

Oceans were forged and mountain ranges dug up by the gods with less effort than it takes for Lexa to ignore the urge to plump her lips against the pads of Clarke's fingers. Her heartbeat is so loud in her ears it blots out the entire world around them, drowning out the tranquil rush of waves and the fire beside them and smothering the far off hoot of an owl. All there is that moment is blue, made brighter in the cast of flame and starlight. It's all that Lexa can do to keep from shaking as she stares into eyes that can never see her back and still fall into them deeper. 

A second hand joins the exploration and, suddenly, Lexa is surrounded so entirely by Clarke it's overwhelming. 

And yet she can't make herself move. 

Instead Lexa holds so still her spine feels it might snap from the wiry tension as fingers regroup their forces at the tip of her chin, dividing and conquering the sloped cliffs of her face to then trace the ridge that line her jaw. 

Clarke's eyes crinkle at the edges when her fingertips drift over the lobes of Lexa's ears as a smile blossoms across her lips and, oh, that's quite lovely too. 

"Tiny."

Lexa tries to speak and has to clear her throat when nothing comes out. "I'm sorry?" 

If Clarke notices the breathy strain of her voice, she doesn't comment.

"Your ears," she says with a lazy smirk instead, as her fingers trace the feature in question. "They're small."

"They're not."

"Compared to the rest of you I mean."

Fingertips loop back up to the top and brush along the crest. Lexa watches at the slant of her smile melts into something more calm. More delicately serious.

“Oh..." Clarke breathes as she drags her fingers over and over them again. "They're... They're warmer now too…”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

That moment right there. That was when Clarke realized little miss grumpy pants truly wasn't as disinterested as she'd tried very hard to seem. It reads as a nothing moment from Lexa's perspective, because in Lexa's mind it'll truly be a nothing moment beyond just mildly embarrassing. But know in your heart, Clarke had the game figured out from that moment on. She knew. And keep that thought in mind for the um... for the more challenging things that lay ahead. Ok? Ok, good 😀

[rwbyrg]

How do you stay positive seeing all the negativity we get for shipping this?

I don't typically talk about discourse, but I know this is something pretty much every RG shipper has faced at some point. So I'll make an exception this once. For anyone that doesn't want to hear about it, I strongly encourage you to keep scrolling.

I'm gonna keep it brief(ish) and vague, but content warning for topics of mental health, abuse, general fandom toxicity and ship discourse.

The short answer is that I've had to completely remove myself from large fandom spaces. I left Twitter last fall, I'm not in any big Discords, and I never check the fandom Reddits. I block bullies, bystanders, and bad faith arguers liberally. I mute words and phrases I don't wish to see, I don't engage with the bad faith takes, and I don't go looking in tags much either.

I surround myself with a small group of friends that I enjoy spending time with and can trust. So I still have outlets to be able to geek out without risk of dealing with the wider community's negativity. This blog was also created as a safe outlet to ramble, join together, or spread positivity about the ship. I know how rough it is for us out there - in the RWBY fandom as a whole, as well as within our own RG shipping spaces. So since I can't be an impartial community leader that helps run events or bigger spaces for us like I used to, this is kind of all I have left to offer.

The slightly longer addition that got way out of hand:

I'm not going to say it's not lonely. That I don't miss being part of a more active, wider group of people that we should have every right to join. But despite how hard some of us tried, there was nothing we could do to change the toxicity that is so deeply rooted at the core of this fandom. The fact that I even tried as hard as I did was 1. a trauma response and 2. just ended up with me - and too many of my friends - getting hurt anyway. I can't regret it because it's how I made the friends that are so dear to me now. But none of us should have had to deal with the cyberbullying, harassment, dog-piling, backstabbing, suibaiting, or any of that other garbage to find the group we have today.

It's extremely fucked up. There's no way to sugar coat it. All of it is abuse and is genuinely traumatizing to many people. I am not using these as buzzwords either. Myself and a handful of my rg shipping friends have literally gone to therapy to help us heal from all the things we've experienced in this fandom. So I have it on the authority of multiple psychiatrists, therapists, and social workers that what I am saying here is true.

Rosegarden and its shippers have become the scapegoat of a toxic community. There are big name fans who've staked their entire platforms on the idea of a rival ship being canon. And so, when they see any of us suggesting a Very Likely alternative to their reality (even if we're minding our own business), they become violent and go out of their way to try and defend it. There are entire servers and friend groups built on bullying this ship and its shippers for similar reasons. Anyone that argues against them, no matter how valid their stance, or how articulately its delivered, is going to become a target. Because we are seen as a threat to a system they directly benefit from. If any of them were to acknowledge how unreasonable or ridiculous all of this is, what would that mean for the circumstances and relationships they've built for themselves? It would all fall apart, wouldn't it?

This is why we also see fellow RG shippers invalidating or blaming us for what we go through. Because some of them have become convinced that if they side with the bullies and paint themselves as "not like those shippers", then they'll be "safe". Which as we all know isn't true. Because the antis attack each other for the smallest offences that don't have anything to do with us anyway.

The RWBY fandom is not alone in struggling with this. Fandoms everywhere are seeing these same patterns play out in different ways. A lot of people without as many stakes in the arguments will often scoff or dismiss it on the basis of it being "so serious, when it's just about fictional characters". And to that, I say: bullshit.

First of all, the people on the other side of the screen dealing with all of this are Real People with Real Feelings and their own lives that are already hard enough as it it. And these sorts of environments, as previously mentioned, can and do cause severe harm. Second, none of this hate has anything to do with fictional characters. That is part of the reason why I am still able to enjoy this ship and this show despite everything I've been through here. Because the fictional characters are simply the means to an end. And while that end is different for everyone, for the bullies - by and large - it offers them power in the face of their insecurities.

The only reason this space is as toxic as it is, is because the loudest voices are often the most emotionally immature. All the reasonable people see the infighting going on and know that engaging with it is a pointless waste of energy. As someone that did try to fight it, I truly don't blame any of them for staying uninvolved. But power comes in numbers; so until a large enough group of the reasonable ones come forward, this fandom will only continue on the course it's headed.

I rambled a lot and I'm not even sure how much of this is relevant to your question. If i were to give a tl;dr to answer you, it is this:

You need to curate your own experience by setting boundaries for yourself that cannot easily be crossed by people or content that is going to upset you.

Recognizing the reason people behave the way they do towards all of this has very little, if anything, to do with the show, the ship itself, or the people shipping it is very liberating.

Don't be like how I was. Don't try and force it when it isn't working. If you are in an environment or a habit that you are getting more harm than joy from: leave. It doesn't always feel like it in the moment, but it is better to be alone than to be surrounded by people who suck. And when you shed the ones that don't treat you well, you open yourself up to more like-minded people that will want to be friends with you anyway.

I say this genuinely with only love and support in my heart, but: touch grass. As often as you can, as often as you need to: get offline. Read a book, engage in other hobbies, connect with people in real life, go for a walk or just get outside if you can. When you start connecting with the reality on your side of the screen more, it puts how pointless and absurd so much of this discourse really is into perspective. Moderation is key.

I'm sorry that all of the negativity has got you down. No one wants to acknowledge how much this sort of thing can affect our well being, but I know first hand how bad it can get. None of it is fair. The feelings you're having are valid and aren't anything to be ashamed about. If you have friends or family you can rely on for support, reach out to them when you need it. If you're in a place where you think the help you need is a bit more specialized, you have my support and encouragement in making the call or doing the research to get started. Therapy isn't accessible and doesn't always work for everyone, but it's not the only option. Before I could afford it, I micro-dosed by reading self-help books and following therapists on Instagram, lol.

I'm not sure what else I can say, and have said more than I meant to anyway. But hang in there, you're not alone, and take care of yourself, okay?💕🫂

[cod-thoughts]

Day 6 of 31 days of COD

Word count: 1.4k

Relationships: 141 as family

Tags: Face reveal ooo, crack treated seriously, the team fluster ghost

With a small sigh, he reached up and, in one fluid motion, pulled his mask off. No one noticed at first, too engrossed in their own idle thoughts. But then Soap, mid-sentence, glanced over—and froze. His eyes widened, mouth hanging open in a way that made him look downright ridiculous. “Bloody hell…” OR Ghost takes off his mask and the team go a little overboard with the compliments. Continue under the cut or on AO3!

The break-room felt smaller today, though that might have been because it was one of those rare moments where the entire team—Price, Soap, Gaz, and Ghost—were actually in the same place at the same time. The hum of fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, blending with the quiet clinking of mugs and soft banter.

Price sat at the head of the table, sipping from his usual tea. Soap was lounging in a chair with his legs kicked up on the table, eyes scanning a magazine as he absentmindedly prodded Gaz about some half-remembered mission mishap. Gaz shot back with his usual sharp wit, earning a bark of laughter from Price. Ghost, as usual, sat at the edge of the group, masked and silent, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His eyes flickered between his teammates, watching them with the faintest hint of amusement behind his stoic demeanour.

It was routine, really. The team was used to this version of Ghost—the silent sentinel who never removed his mask, never fully relaxed, and rarely, if ever, spoke unless there was something mission-critical to say.

“God, I could use a week off,” Soap groaned, stretching his arms over his head. “A proper vacation—somewhere warm. Maybe a beach, yeah?”

Gaz snorted. “You on a beach? Your pasty skin would burn in five minutes flat.”

“Oi!” Soap grinned. “I tan… eventually.”

Price raised an eyebrow. “When was the last time you saw the sun for more than ten minutes without getting shot at?”

The banter continued, with Soap defending his skin tone as the others chipped in with their own jabs. Ghost, leaning back, let out a low, nearly imperceptible chuckle, so quiet only those paying attention would have caught it.

For a moment, the conversation lulled, everyone settling into a comfortable silence. It was then, seemingly out of nowhere, that Ghost did something completely unexpected.

With a small sigh, he reached up and, in one fluid motion, pulled his mask off.

No one noticed at first, too engrossed in their own idle thoughts. But then Soap, mid-sentence, glanced over—and froze. His eyes widened, mouth hanging open in a way that made him look downright ridiculous.

“Bloody hell…”

Gaz blinked, his head turning sharply towards Soap before following his line of sight. His reaction was nearly identical—jaw slack, eyes wide, staring at Ghost as if they’d just seen a ghost themselves.

Price was the last to notice, casually looking up from his cup of tea. But even his usually calm demeanor cracked. He blinked once, twice, clearly trying to process what he was seeing.

Ghost shifted in his seat, awkwardly clearing his throat. His face, the part of him that none of them had ever seen, was now fully exposed. And, to his dismay, all three of them were staring like he’d grown a second head.

“...What?” Ghost grumbled, voice quieter without the mask’s muffling effect.

Soap was the first to recover, though not by much. “You—” He gestured vaguely at Ghost’s face, seemingly at a loss for words. “Mate, you’re—”

“What?” Ghost repeated, a touch of defensiveness creeping into his tone. He looked down, as if suddenly self-conscious about his scars, the jagged lines that marred his skin. They were old, faded in some places but still stark reminders of a life lived in warzones. He’d always assumed they’d be what people noticed first if they ever saw his face.

Price coughed, breaking the tense silence. “We didn’t realise you were…” He glanced at Soap and Gaz, who were both still gaping, and then back at Ghost. “So damn good looking.”

Ghost blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What?”

Gaz finally found his voice. “Mate, are you kidding me? You’re—” He made a vague motion with his hand, as if trying to summon the right word. “You’re bloody gorgeous.”

Ghost’s brows furrowed, and he shifted uncomfortably. “The hell are you on about?”

Soap finally managed to close his mouth, but a grin quickly replaced his initial shock. “He’s right, LT. You’re a bloody model under there!”

Price let out a low chuckle, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’ll be damned.”

Ghost, visibly thrown off by the unexpected praise, glanced away, a rare uncertainty settling into his posture. He could feel his face heat up, a strange, unwelcome flush creeping up his neck.

“Stop takin’ the piss,” Ghost muttered, reaching for his mask. “I’m scarred to hell and back. I know what I look like.”

Soap, quick as ever, leaned forward and snatched the mask off the table before Ghost could grab it. “Oh no, you’re not putting that back on.”

“Johnny—”

“I mean it, LT. We’ve seen it now, and we’re not lettin’ you hide that handsome face again,” Soap teased, grinning like the cat that caught the canary.

Ghost’s ears burned, his embarrassment deepening. He could feel the heat crawling up his face, and judging by the way the others were staring, it was clear they’d noticed too.

“Jesus Christ,” Ghost mumbled, scrubbing a hand over his face in a futile attempt to hide his growing discomfort.

Gaz, always the sharp observer, chimed in with a laugh. “Did you see that? The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled? Damn, Ghost, you’ve been holding out on us.”

Ghost groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You lot are unbelievable.”

Price chuckled softly, his tone more relaxed now that the initial shock had worn off. “Well, Simon, I’ll admit I wasn’t expecting this. You’re going to have to get used to the compliments.”

Ghost peeked through his fingers, eyes narrowing slightly. “Compliments?” he muttered, voice muffled by his hands. “You’re all takin’ the piss.”

Soap’s grin only widened. “Oh, we’re not. It’s just… wow. You’ve been hiding a face like that all this time?”

Ghost finally dropped his hands, shooting Soap an unimpressed look. “Drop it, Johnny.”

But Soap was clearly having the time of his life. “Nope. Not droppin’ it. Not when I’ve just discovered that you, our own Ghost, have been hiding a face prettier than half the models in Vogue.”

Price rolled his eyes at Soap’s dramatics but didn’t intervene. It was too good to see Ghost, usually so controlled and unflappable, thrown off his game for once.

Ghost, thoroughly embarrassed now, glanced between them, trying to figure out if they were serious or just having him on. But the soft smiles, the lingering surprise in their eyes, told him they weren’t joking—at least not entirely.

“You really think this is funny,” Ghost muttered, though his tone had softened slightly.

“Oh, it’s hilarious,” Soap admitted, “but also true. I mean, look at you. How have you been hidin’ that all this time?”

Ghost’s face burned. He wasn’t used to this—being the centre of attention, being… admired. He’d spent so long behind the mask, letting it shield him from the world, that he’d almost forgotten what it was like to be seen. Really seen.

Gaz grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Bet you didn’t think you’d get this reaction, huh?”

Ghost shook his head, still feeling out of place, exposed in a way he hadn’t expected. “Figured you’d just be staring at the scars,” he admitted quietly.

Price’s voice was gentle, cutting through the teasing with a calm sincerity. “We’re not bothered by those, Simon. You’re still you—scars or not.”

The warmth in his captain’s words, in the way the team looked at him, sent another flush up Ghost’s neck. He opened his mouth to argue, to downplay it, but Soap beat him to it.

“And now that we’ve seen that smile,” Soap said with a cheeky grin, “you can’t go hiding it again.”

Ghost grumbled under his breath, but the teasing continued, light and relentless. They were all enjoying it far too much, talking about his smile, his eyes, the way his expression changed now that they could see his face. They gushed about him as if he wasn’t right there, sitting at the table, clearly flustered and trying his best to keep his composure.

“Christ, you lot are insufferable,” Ghost muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Gaz laughed. “Get used to it, Ghost. You’re stuck with us.”

And as much as he grumbled, as much as he wanted to bury his face in his hands and pretend this whole thing wasn’t happening, there was a part of Ghost that felt… lighter. Like maybe, just maybe, he didn’t need the mask as much as he thought he did.