#you won’t even remember that you wanted to! you won’t remember that you need to!

[thegreatgatslin]

THREE'S A CROWD! (bllk x reader threesomes, 18+)

ღ SYNOPSIS: why choose between them when you can just have them both? ღ STARRING: nagireo and ryusae x reader (separate) ღ CONTENT WARNINGS: threesomes (duh), heinous smut, p in v sex, p in a sex, double penetration, fingering, oral sex (f/m receiving), face sitting, overstim, no protection, best friends nagireo, boyfriends ryusae

ღ SEISHIRO NAGI AND REO MIKAGE: WE'LL MAKE YOU SAY YOU NEED US

somehow, what was supposed to be a cozy night in watching rom-coms has turned into a full-on makeout session with your two best friends. and with the way reo’s large hands are ghosting over the bare skin of your waist, and how seishiro’s deft tongue is exploring your mouth with a surprising fervor - 

you think it might turn into more than that very, very soon.

“fuckkkkk,” reo groans, kissing up the side of your neck, and you let out a pathetic whine as you feel his hard-on poking your lower back.

“you feel too good, jewel.” you feel a tugging at the waistband of your sleep shorts, and look down to see sei’s beautiful grey eyes, wide and full of want, and nod breathlessly, they’re off in seconds, and so are your lacy black panties.

and even as you feel two cold, long fingers poke at your sopping wet entrance, you feel hands pulling your thick sweater up - you’re not wearing anything underneath - exposing your bare breasts to the cool air of reo’s living room.

soon, you’re letting out the most wanton moans you’ve ever heard - seishiro is thumbing at your swollen clit as his thick digits piston in and out of your cunt, and reo toys with your sensitive nipples, kneading the soft flesh of your chest.

“i want you to sit on my face, angel,” sei rasps, and you oblige, positioning yourself over his waiting mouth. by now reo’s pulled sei out of his grey sweats, revealing all eight delicious inches of him that you immediately wrap your hands around, stroking slowly.

you look up at reo, who’s unbuckling his belt, and soon his cock is standing straight and proud before your eyes, reddened tip leaking with pre. he cups your cheek, eyes murky with desire. 

“won’t you help me out too, angel?” and you moan at his taste when he pushes his throbbing tip past your parted lips and tangles his fingers into your hair.

you cum from seishiro’s expert ministrations - what, twice? three times? you can’t seem to remember. and reo, feeling a little left out, has his turn with you later on, as sei sits to the side, fisting his cock lazily.

suffice it to say, the three of you did not watch that movie.

ღ SAE ITOSHI AND RYUSEI SHIDOU: GO WILD, I LOVE IT WHEN YOU'RE ROUGH

having both ryusei shidou and sae itoshi as your boyfriends is interesting at times, because they’re different in every single way. personality, playing style, love language. and that extends to the way they fuck you. 

though sex with them is always exciting and really good, you notice a recurring pattern in how they handle you:

they start off slow, they escalate much too quickly, and they end with a bang.

sae always has the first taste of you unless he’s feeling generous, in which case ryu will dive in between your legs eagerly and eat you out until your legs are shaking and you’re crying both their names out. sae is much more methodical; his tongue will circle your clit while he fingers you at an agonisingly slow pace, sucking your slick from his own fingers from time to time. (he never forgets to give ryu a taste, too.)

and while one of them is doing that, it’s inevitable that you’ll be taking care of the other. your mouth, your hands, your tits - any part of your body they can use to get themselves off, they’ll use. sae particularly enjoys watching you choke and sputter helplessly on his length, while ryu likes when you jerk him off with one hand as you brace yourself on his thick thigh with the other - especially if you’ve just had your nails done.

then comes the “main event” (though you could say the whole thing is eventful enough). sae is unashamedly an ass guy, especially when it comes to your ass, so that’s what he takes. ryusei is happy to have your plush cunt squeezing around him, and they fuck you roughly in tandem, uncaring of your overstimulation. 

they make out heatedly as you’re sandwiched between them, and somehow or other, they make sure you all cum at the same time. oh well - that’s what you get for dating both a horny demon and a perceptive genius at once.

a/n: *gulps* part two? yes, part two.

© thegreatgatslin || ✦ M.LIST ✦

[venuslarkspur]

Can I please request a teen female reader (15-17?) who’s entered the games to help her family, like all the responsibilities have fallen to her after her dads death 🥺💕(ANY CHARACTERS WILL DO) ILY UR PINK HAIR FIC AS WELL)

Playtime’s Over.

Pairing(s): Squid Game Characters meet Fem!Teen!Reader, (ALL PLATONIC). Contains: Thanos, Se-Mi, Kang Dae Ho, Seong Gi Hun, Cho Hyun Ju, Park Gyeong Seok.

Summary: Them just doting on Teen Reader and wanting to protect her!

Note: This can be read as gender neutral as well! I didn’t really go out of the way to make it female looking back. NOT PROOFREAD I COULD NOT BE ARSED

Warning(s): ANGST, mentions of eating, VIOLENCE, family problems.

Thanos

- He immediately takes a liking to you and can straight away tell you’re not actually 18. (I’m with the firm belief this man would have a soft spot for kids)

- Forces the rest of the group to refer to you as “yeodongsaeng” (or little just sister) and it makes you feel loved, even though you know he’s full of shit , kids see everything.

- You swear that sometimes he thinks you’re his actual sister, with the way he acts towards you; others in the game constantly think you’re actual siblings.

- Nearly gives you some of his drugs before he remembers your age and tells you to scram and do your homework.

- Doesn’t let Nam-Gyu shit talk you, would sooner slap him on the head than let him do that, and firmly reminds him you’re his younger sister now as well. That thought of being his sister made you want to vomit, but you wouldn’t mind Thanos being your brother though.

- Bonding over your father’s not being around anymore! Even though your circumstances are very different.

- When 2 players are called In mingle. He hesitates, despite the drugs running through his system; he shouts at Nam-Gyu to go with Min-Su while he drags you into a nearby room. Dumbfounded you still were, as he picked you first.

- You had found someone, despite his countless flaws and bullshit. There was still someone, until there wasn’t anymore. And you were left alone again.

Se-Mi

- You’re the only one she’s letting call her ‘unnie’, very protective of you even before knowing your true age.

- If you need a distraction she will let you play with one of her rings while she asks you how school is and how you are doing.

- Very torn when she hears you’re providing for a whole family by yourself, wants to be there for you. Since you’re a kid with no parents to guide you here.

- Would give you her milk carton and egg. She doesn’t want it anyway just take it!

- Lets you trail after her like a duckling.

- Isn’t afraid to tell anyone to leave you alone if you’re getting picked on.

- Has an epiphany when she realised the reason your so good at the games is because it probably hasn’t bee long since you played them on the school courtyard :(

- Protects you in mingle, even though she knows she won’t always be able to keep you safe. But it ended up being her you failed to save.

Kang Dae-Ho

- Was the first person to jump in and help you when you were getting abused by one of the other players, an older man that you had pickpocketed quite recently; naturally, he longed for his revenge, firmly punching your stomach, you fell to the ground immediately; he grabbed your hair and before he could land a blow on your face another player stepped in.

- “Leave the kid alone.” Another man, younger this time whose number read “388” had jumped in to defend you. The older man backed off slightly, but still felt the need to verbally attack you. “You know this little bitch?” He spat out, locking eyes with you. “This kid stole cash from me!” He screamed pointing an accusatory finger at you. You weren’t denying, you hanged your head in guilt; even if you explained your circumstances, he wouldn’t care. “Maybe she did, but shes just a defenceless kid,, lay off.” and with that the stingy man trotted away, maintaining eye contact with you.

- Player 388 had checked up on you after that, since that day you were overly attached to him. Trailing after him, he didn’t mind at all not one bit. He told you he actually had several older sisters and it was nice to have a younger one for a change.

- He respects your strength and perseverance more than anyone, having to provide for an entire family when you’re just a kid yourself is TIRING work and unimaginable for him.

- Encourages you to make your own choices, like don’t pick “O” or “X” just because he did.

- Makes sure you are one of the first prioritised during mingle, he saw what happened to Young-Mi and couldn’t live with himself if the same happened to you. You do a lot of hand holding after what happened to Young Mi; he’s scared to let go.

- He hates seeing how little hope there is in your eyes for someone so young, it’s his personal mission to make you feel hope again.

Seong Gi-Hun

- Even though he’s kind of in his depressed era rn, all he sees when he looks at you is his daughter staring back at him. Acknowledges straight away that you’re only a bit older than her.

- It takes you a while to catch on, but you eventually realise why he’s protective of you. His own daughter wasn’t around anymore is the conclusion you came to, where she is or if she is you don’t know. Only that he must not see her anymore.

- scolds you quite a lot, telling you that you shouldn’t even be here anyway. That instead you should be doing your homework or studying for your next exam.

- When the cameras watch he has to distance himself from you, he doesn’t want the Frontman to know of his now emotional connection with you.

- You remind him of Sae-Byeok in an odd way.

- Would never forgive yourself if you died, you’d constantly be on his mind.

Cho Hyun Ju

- I can’t lie she initially tries to stay clear of you, she knows if she gets too attached and you die, she won’t be able to live with herself.

- But she can’t seem to get rid of you, you follow her around like a baby duck.

- You, Her and Young-Mi become like a sisterhood, she’s the oldest and you’re the baby of the group. You both call her ‘unnie’

- Young Mi gives you her food and Hyun Ju follows along and passes you some milk. Because you need it to be “big and strong”

- She has so many questions about how you ended up in here. Where are your parents? What are your family doing if you’re here? Shouldn’t you be in school?

- When Young Mi dies she gets very protective of you, she’s not losing you as well.

Park Gyeong-Seok

- Projection!!! He’s missing his daughter, you’re missing your dad! The perfect duo.

- On a serious note he hates how attached he is to you.

- You joined his group in the 2nd game and you played Flying Stone. He knows something was off about you, even putting on a tough exterior you seemed so childlike. When you confess your actual age he’s horrified, he didn’t want to believe it. How on earth are you in debt?

- He can’t believe you’re providing for a whole family. He struggles just providing for his daughter.

- Encourages you to hit “X”, trust me you don’t want to die here, you can’t help your family from your grave.

- If you seem a little hungry he offers you his food.

- You’re attached by the hip during mingle, you never left his side.

- He comforts you during the riot in lights out. Cradling your body, and running his hands through your hair to calm you down; wondering if this is how he’d hold his own daughter if she were here.

- You beg him not to go with the others in the revolt, he almost doesn’t. And later he’d wish he didn’t.

[rik0shii]

lads guys headcanons

(zayne,sylus,xavier,rafayel,caleb)

warnings :fluff

request: yes

thank you for requesting, I'm new to doing those things so pls tell me if it wasn't to your liking or if it wasn't what you imagined so that I can fix it and get better !

Zayne

• Super punctual—if you have a date set for 1 PM, he’s already outside at 12:50, waiting in his car just so he can call you at the exact time.

• Kids adore him. He has that calm, safe aura that makes even the shyest child want to hold his hand.

• ASMR king—his whispery, soft-spoken voice could put anyone to sleep. If he ever recorded voice memos for you, they’d be the most soothing thing ever.

• After a long mission, he welcomes you with quiet reassurances, hugging you from behind and murmuring, “You did great today. I missed you.”

• Loves holding your hand, whether it’s a quick squeeze of reassurance or intertwining fingers while walking.

• Soft, sleepy smiles—the rare moments when he’s tired but still awake enough to look at you and grin lazily.

• Would totally tuck a blanket around you if you fell asleep on the couch.

Xavier

• Definitely the “I know a spot” guy. And when he shows you? It’s breathtaking—some secret rooftop, a hidden garden, a quiet overlook.

• Hand-holding and forehead kisses in those quiet places where it’s just the two of you.

• If you’re on a mission and he’s not with you, he refuses to sleep. He’ll pace, check his phone, stare at the ceiling—anything but rest.

• CLINGS when you return. Arms wrapped around you, face buried in your neck, and a muffled, “Don’t ever leave me like that again.”

• Skilled with his fingers? Definitely means he can play the piano beautifully. Would learn your favorite song just to surprise you.

• Lowkey romantic in an effortless way. Always the guy to drape his jacket over you if you’re cold or tilt your chin up before a kiss.

Sylus

• Loves stargazing. If you ever go on a late-night drive, he’ll pull over just to sit on the hood of the car with you, pointing out constellations.

• Loves rainy days—the sound, the smell, the way it makes everything feel cozy. If it’s storming outside, he’s making hot drinks and pulling you onto the couch for a movie marathon.

• A big fan of sleepy cuddles. He’ll absentmindedly run his fingers through your hair while half-asleep.

• Writes little notes for you and leaves them in random places—inside books, on your mirror, tucked into your jacket pocket.

• Horrible at remembering dates but amazing at remembering tiny details—like the way you take your coffee or the song you hummed once three months ago.

• Unironically loves stuffed animals. If you ever give him one, he’ll pretend it’s no big deal, but you’ll definitely find it on his bed later.

Caleb

• Super protective but in a quiet way—he’ll walk on the side closest to the street, double-check locks before bed, and always notice when you seem off.

• Really good cook—if you’re having a bad day, expect a homemade meal that somehow tastes exactly like comfort.

• Loves fixing things for you. Broken zipper? He’s on it. Squeaky door? Fixed. Car won’t start? He’s already rolling up his sleeves.

• Acts grumpy but is secretly the softest. If you rest your head on his shoulder, he’ll pretend to sigh but won’t move an inch.

• Always warm. If you’re cold, he’ll just pull you into his side like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

• Reads a lot. Might not admit it, but he totally has a favorite book and will casually reference it in conversation.

• Loves slow dancing in the kitchen. No music, just the sound of your breathing and his steady heartbeat.

Rafayel

• Absolute charmer—he can flirt like it’s second nature, but when it comes to real feelings, he gets a little shy.

• Knows how to dress. If you ever need help picking an outfit, he’ll make sure you look stunning.

• Sends voice memos instead of texts. His voice is too smooth not to be used.

• Great dancer—whether it’s a fancy ballroom-style twirl or a goofy little move in the kitchen, he makes everything feel fun.

• Gives the best compliments—not just about looks, but little things like, “I love how your eyes light up when you talk about something you love.”

• Cuddling expert. His hugs are always just the right amount of firm, warm, and lingering.

• Loves learning about you. Your favorite color? Noted. The way you like your tea? Memorized. A weird fact about something you love? He’ll bring it up just to see you smile.

[lipglossanon]

Until the End

Real son!Leon S. Kennedy x real mom!reader (one shot)

Warnings: incest, dead dove, mom/son, simp Leon, cnc (reader’s “not” into it at first 😉), kissing, dirty talk, teasing, oral (f receiving), just the tip 😩, unprotected sex, creampie, mommy kink to the extreme

not proofread ✍️ it’s been a while since I’ve worked on anything so hopefully this doesn’t suck lmao the ending is just kinda meh

shoutout to the discord; I posted some of this WIP and they gave me the inspo to finish 🤭

title from the Breaking Benjamin song

It’s a quiet affair when you sign the divorce papers. Your husband—of twenty four years—deciding that he’d rather live overseas with his secretary instead of sticking it out; it’s not something you would have foreseen, but as they say hindsight’s always 20/20. It upset you at first but once the indignation died down, you realize you feel more relief than anything. Things have been strained for years and then in the last five, he’s barely been home long enough to chat about your days. 

The one who took it the hardest out of anyone is Leon. Your husband offered him a place to stay, but he chose to live with you (being a mama’s boy through and through). After his father left, Leon angrily refused to speak with him anymore and instead focused on his work and trying to pick up any slack around the house. Not that you hadn’t already been doing that for years, but it’s sweet of him to want to take care of you. 

He dotes on you now, making sure you’re eating and drinking and taking care of yourself. His friends tease him about it or rib him about having a milf (which you had the unfortunate chance to overhear as you walked into the living room). Meeting Leon’s mortified gaze, you smile tightly and walk through to the kitchen. He kicks them out and apologizes profusely to you, face buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin as he murmurs how sorry he is and promises it won’t happen again. 

Things go back to normal for a while. The absence of your husband is something you don’t even notice anymore. Leon is more than capable of moving out and living on his own, but he says it’s closer to work and easier to keep an eye on you if he lives at home. Besides, he told you with a serious face, he doesn’t have a girlfriend to make things awkward so for now you just need to chill out and let him take care of things. 

He gets a promotion at work, no longer relegated to being just a traffic cop, and you couldn’t be more proud! Your offer to take him out to a nice dinner gets turned down; in its place is an evening of take out and drinking. Since it’s the weekend, neither of you are worried about being hungover the next day, so you both end up drinking more than you usually would. 

Later, Leon walks with you from the dining room to the living room, each of you laughing at some silly joke that you can’t even remember. 

Settling together on the couch, he tucks into your side, face nuzzling against your neck like he used to do as a little boy. You giggle and run your hand through his hair. 

“You’re so sweet, Leon,” you murmur, “but aren’t you a little too old to be cuddling your mom?”

“Uh uh,” he whines, making you laugh harder, “always need you, mama.”

“Okay, okay,” you pat his head, slumping further into the couch, the alcohol buzzing through your veins, “my little boy’s all grown up.”

Feeling maudlin now at remembering that the passage of time waits for no one, you sniffle and it draws Leon’s attention.  

“What’s a’matter?” He mumbles, hazy blue eyes sharpening to see your tears, “mom?”

You smile and cup his cheek. Neither of you have shied away from physical affection; however, you remember on more than one occasion you thought Leon went overboard with cuddling and snuggling with you. Now that seems like a silly thought, he just missed you during his long hours on duty. 

“Nothing, just so proud of you,” you smile, dropping your hand to rub his shoulder. 

He kisses your cheek and you coo softly. Moving closer, he lands another soft kiss to the corner of your lips. Blaming it on the alcohol, a warm thrum of heat sings through your stomach. 

“Mama,” he whimpers, lips clumsily landing on yours. 

You freeze, body heavy and thoughts slow. Leon presses his mouth more firmly against yours and you gasp, lips parting under his and he eagerly kisses you harder. Whining, you try to tug your head away but he follows you, kisses becoming rougher while pressing you deeper against the couch. 

Your hands come up and tangle in his hair, but instead of pulling him back they scrape against his scalp, making him groan deliciously. He shifts, pulling away to tilt his head at a better angle before pressing another hot kiss against your lips. You sink into it, clit pulsing in arousal, mouth tingling from each sloppy kiss from your son.

Finally, you twist away, panting heavily while Leon rests his forehead against your jaw. 

“Mama, why’d you stop?” He presses a soft kiss under your ear, making you shiver.

“Leon, this—this isn’t right,” you plead, eyelashes fluttering as he nips and sucks your neck.

“Just this once,” he murmurs, lips dragging against your skin and sending chills down your body. “Let me show you how much I appreciate you, mommy.”

His words and actions are muddling your mind… and you’ve been lonely for so long. Swallowing, you breath out a shaky breath, mind made up.

“O-okay,” your body feels hot, muttering that out loud.

Moaning, he bites your jaw then kisses your cheek. “Thank you.”

He shows his appreciation by kissing the breath from your lungs; your son’s excitement ramps up your own, cunt pulsing with need as slick fills your panties. Wet, drugging kisses pass between you until you completely lose yourself to the feeling, making out with Leon until your lips are swollen. 

You jump, feeling his fingers trail along your thigh, slipping under your skirt and brushing against your panties.

“God, you’re so wet. Wanna bury my face in your pussy.”

You moan, and he teases your cunt through the soppy fabric.

“You can’t,” your hips grind down into his hand.

“Okay, promise I’ll behave,” he chuckles.

Without another word, he flips your skirt up and slips your panties down your legs to bunch at your ankles.

“Oh mommy,” he moans, fingers tracing your slit up and down before circling your clit, “your pussy’s so soft. Fuck me.”

Your hips buck and he bites his bottom lip, fingers rubbing up and down your pussy lips. 

“So, so soft,” he whispers, eyes glued to where his fingers are touching, “my stubble’s gonna feel so rough when I kiss her, mama.”

You whine high and reedy but shake your head, “No, no, this is all I’m allowing, Leon. You promised.”

“Just a kiss or two,” he murmurs, voice low and smoky, “she needs it, look how soft and sweet she is, just begging for my mouth. C’mon, mama, just let me have a couple of kisses.”

Your resolve cracks at his pleading. 

“Just a couple, then we stop,” you try to sound firm but your voice comes out breathier than you’d like. 

“Mmhmm, thank you, mama,” he kisses the side of your cheek then the corner of your lips.

You feel a little disappointed that he stops to kneel between your legs. He brings his hands up to spread apart your cunt, slick dripping from your hole as his mouth hovers over your mound. 

“Oh fuck, mom,” Leon whines, tongue lapping at your clit, “so fucking wet. Am I making you this wet? God, your pussy’s so fucking sexy.”

Another groan and he’s fluttering his tongue across your pudgy bud before sucking it gently into his mouth. He pulls back and kisses the hood of your clit. You moan softly and cant your hips up. 

“W-we shouldn’t, baby,” you plead, fingers tangling in his hair again, but not pushing him away. 

“Been wanting to do this forever, dreaming about how I wanna lick your pretty pussy til you cream all over my face,” he pants, dilated eyes watching your face, “gonna make you cum over and over tonight.”

“Fuck,” you gasp as he thrusts his tongue into your pussy, walls clamping around the slippery muscle, “Leon! 

He hums and grinds his nose against your clit as his tongue fucks in and out of your hole, spit dripping down your ass onto the couch cushions. Your eyes flutter as your orgasm winds tight in your abdomen. 

“Need to eat you out everyday, mama,” he pulls back, slick shining across his lips and chin, “treat this pussy like she deserves. Don’t you wanna feel good?”

He sucks your clit back into his mouth, hot tongue flicking against the sensitive bud. It only takes a few more teasing licks before your climax breaks over your body like a tidal wave. Toes curling, your hands tug on his hair making him moan, tonguing at your fluttering cunt until he finally pulls away with one last sucking kiss. 

He crowds you on the couch, thick forearms hooking under your knees to keep you spread open. He nods down to his jeans; your eyes flit from his face to the bulge pressing obscenely against his zipper. 

“Pull it out,” he murmurs, blue eyes nearly black. “Take my cock out so I can stuff your cunt, mommy.”

Shaking your head, your voice cracks, “No, baby. That’s going too far.”

He whines, “But it hurts, mama. You’re being so mean. At least jerk me off.”

Biting your lip, his pouty mouth has you reaching forward, undoing his pants and tugging them down his thighs. You gently ease his dick from his briefs, uncut head sticky with precum. You both moan when you grip his stiff cock, the blood hot skin against your palm turning you on more than you ever thought. Thumb pressing against the slit, you smear the pearlescent sheen across his tip until he’s whimpering. 

“Mommy,” his hips thrust forward, “it’s sensitive.” 

He sags forward, and your legs slide up his arms until your calves press against his biceps. This new position has his dick grinding against your swollen cunt, the head grazing across your pudgy clit. Your fingers loosely circle the base of his cock, the backs of your knuckles brushing against his balls. 

“So good, fuck,” he chokes out, humping your pussy. “Just let me cum like this, let me mark you up, mama. Yeah, just coat this sexy fucking pussy with my cum.”

Keening, you let go of his cock to feather your fingers against his heavy balls. “You can, you can cum all over me.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” he chants, pink lips parted and eyebrows furrowed as he watches his cock slip between your pussy lips to rub against your hole. “Mommy, just let me put the tip in, please? Promise it’ll just be the tip. Please.”

You know you should say no, but then again you should’ve put a stop to this before it even started. Just the tip wouldn’t be so bad, you think, eyes greedily taking in his fat, drippy tip. It wouldn’t hurt to let him try it out.

“Just the tip, Leon,” you murmur, flicking up to meet his blown out gaze. “But only this once.”

“Thank you,” he groans, “love you so much, mama.”

Moving one hand from his hold on your leg, he grips his cock and guides the head to your clenching hole. His thumb presses down on the head as he rocks forward, slipping the tip into your wet cunt. You suck in a deep breath at the same time he grunts. The other hand gripping your thigh tightens, fingertips tightly digging into the soft skin. 

Leon blows out a breath, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. “You feel so good.”

He ruts the head of his cock in and out of your pussy, the wet schlick loud in the otherwise quiet living room. Your hands move over your head to drape over the back of the couch, fingers grasping at the cushions. 

“Can I—,” he cuts himself off, eyes squeezing shut. “Can I go a little deeper, mommy?”

Your slick hole clenches down on him and he whimpers. 

“H-how much deeper?” You hear yourself say, mouth running away from you. 

“Just an inch or two,” he gasps, feeling overwhelmed by the heat of your cunt. “Pretty please, mommy.”

You nod, eyes unable to look away from where he’s splitting you open, dick driving deeper and deeper—going so much farther than a few inches—into your pussy until he’s completely buried in your pulsing walls. 

“Leon!” You cry out, head falling back as your cunt stretches around the fat girth of his cock.

“Sorry, mama,” he practically slurs, pussy drunk already. “Didn’t mean to, it just slipped.”

You whimper at the pleasure pain of his tip kissing your cervix as he grinds himself against your cunt. Clit rubbing against his pelvis makes you squeeze and clench around his dick, in turn making him groan from deep in his chest. He barely pulls out before fucking back into your sopping wet hole. 

“So perfect,” his face pinches in pleasure. “God, mom, your pussy—gonna make me cum so fast.”

You dig your hands into the couch and roll your hips down into his thrusts, “You need to pull out, baby. It’s bad to cum inside. You’ve gotta pull out of mommy’s cunt.”

He makes a broken sound from the back of his throat and drives his cock into you with harsh, pounding thrusts. 

“No, I’m gonna cum in you, make you nice and full,” he bites out, sweat dripping from the straight line of his nose onto you. “Stuff you so full, mama.”

You can’t hide how his words make your pussy clamp down on his cock, his own hips stuttering as your cunt tries to milk his cock. 

“Yeah, mommy, squeezing me so good, so fucking good,” he pants. “Fuck, ‘m gonna cum.”

He reaches down, hot palm a brand across your mound as his thumb teases your clit. You thrash against him, but it’s no use as he strums your swollen bud in rough little circles that makes your thighs tremble. 

“Leon,” you moan, a second orgasm quickly building in your core. “Oh god, I’m so close.”

He doesn’t stop the frantic pumping of his hips, fucking his cock into your squelching heat while he rubs your clit—his blue eyes jumping between your face and your pussy. Mouth dropping open, he groans, mumbling praises and promises under his breath. Pinching your clit between the knuckles of his first and middle finger, he gives pulsing squeezes to the sensitive bundle of nerves until you’re cumming loudly. 

Your back bows, fireworks going off in your brain, dimly realizing that Leon’s gripping your hips as he wildly fucks your cunt. 

“Fuck, fuck, mom,” he chokes on the word, burying himself balls deep in your soft, wet walls and spilling his thick cum as deep as possible. 

You whimper, squeezing down on him as the hot splash of his spend fills your cunt. He eventually stills, hips still snugly pressed against you as close as possible. Slick and jizz begin to slowly leak out from around his softening cock. He hisses when he pulls out, then immediately whimpers, fingers playing with his cum dripping from your hole.

“Leon, stop, it’s sensitive,” you gasp, eyes slipping closed when his fingers slide up to rub across your fat clit. 

“Sorry, mama,” he pulls back only to drop to his knees, eyes dark, mouth hovering tantalizingly close to your sloppy cunt. “Let me kiss it better.”

[raikirikiri]

big fan of obito spending so much time stalking kakashi that he saves his life a few times in the process. kakashi is key to obito’s plans, without kakashi, obito’s whole shtick explodes and suddenly he’s left with no one to punish. so kakashi can’t die. and obito knows he’s a very capable shinobi, oh boy does he fucking know it. but kakashi is also still mortal and mistakes happen and … oops! obito might’ve used kamui to push the hand about to plunge a kunai into kakashi’s back a little to the left!

or oops! kakashi is an idiot and passes out from chakra exhaustion and obito kamuis him closer to a water source/small village! it’s okay, kakashi won’t remember how he got there anyway.

obito has saved kakashi’s life on more than a few occasions and it’s only because kakashi’s suffering has to mean something. he can’t die because then obito really will be alone and everything will feel so much more dull and bleak than it already does. kakashi might be an enemy, might not understand obito if he knew he was alive, but kakashi is the only thing keeping him tethered. so he’ll look after kakashi when he can, spitefully saving his life and watching him grow and change into someone almost unrecognizable. and obito wont be able to take credit for it, at least not all of it because kakashi attributes so much of his life and his nindo to obito already but no one will know that it’s obito that’s kept him alive from the shadow of kamui.

and kakashi will sometimes feel like he’s being watched, sometimes feel like there’s a cruel god out there hellbent on keeping him alive so he can suffer and atone. he’ll look and look but he’ll never see the shell of the boy he once knew still looking after him. it makes him more than a little twitchy if he thinks about it for too long but the feel comes and goes and he learns to live with it because it doesn’t feel hostile and he can differentiate between the omnipotence and the corporeal. sometimes he manages to trick himself into thinking that it’s his old team watching him and cheering him on and it makes him be a little better. work a little harder. want to live a little more. until he remembers that living means going on without them and suddenly, he’s throwing himself into danger and yet the danger never comes and he’s still alive and he’s still being watched. he never tells anyone he’s being watched. it’ll either be taken as a threat or as him needing another psych evaluation that’ll be ignored. so he keeps it to himself and doesn’t let it drive him crazy.

it’s not until the war, until he’s facing the masked man, that the feeling goes away. and suddenly, basically in a blink of his eye, kakashi is hokage. he has two eyes of his own and life is still passing him by. the feeling is gone and it doesn’t come back, not even a little bit. not ever.

oh tragic lovers obito and kakashi, how you make my lament

[softtdaisy]

injury prompt 16 and 22 for reid perhaps... :D Love your writing btw <3

make my heart beat again / spencer reid

summary. spencer was sad. spencer was miserable. he thought he could handle it until he couldn't anymore. he thought he could deal with it alone until he couldn't.

words count. 2 249

prompt. “Why won’t you let me help you?” “…because I don’t deserve it.” / “You deserve to be helped, I—who told you this?” from here

what to expect. very angsty, spencer is so sad i want to hug him, i chose the mentally injured more than physically, mention of murder very quickly

a/n. ok first thank you so much for requesting it sweetie!! and i'm sorry, i wish i posted it sooner but i started it again to make it shorter and...it's not shorter, but it's here and i hope you will love it (and now i can work on your other request) 🫶

F1 masterlist | general masterlist | request

You weren’t quite sure how everything started again with Spencer.

One day he was a memory of the past, one of your biggest regrets. The next time he was back in your place, like he always belonged there.

You went on a couple of dates a few years ago, and it would be a lie to say your heart didn’t fall for that boy. Sweet, gentle, the nicest man you’ve ever met. And so beautiful with his always so messy hair, his gorgeous brown eyes that always seemed to look at you like you were one of the seven wonders of the world, and that perfectly shaped mouth that you loved to kiss.

You were sure things could have worked out with Spencer if a) his work didn’t take him that much time—and more. b) You didn’t have other issues in your life you had to deal with before thinking about love.

So you ended your relationship, or whatever it was at that time, before it could be more serious. And you spent way too many nights missing Spencer Reid. 

The way he would start every date with a fact that could either last a minute or ten and how you could notice the change in his eyes when he noticed you were truly interested in what he was saying. How he was blushing at any physical contact you were initiating, even in bed after he made love to you. Or even how you never said you loved each other, yet the way his lips would stay longer on your shoulder when you were falling asleep was speaking for your feelings.

You never thought Spencer would miss you just as much.

But he spent months contemplating the idea of seeing you again and trying to convince you this could be good. That he could be good for you. But months turned into a year. And when he celebrated his whole single year on the other side of the country, Spencer read into it that maybe he had glorified love. In all its aspects.

And this conclusion haunted him for years.

To the point Spencer stopped meeting new people and was barely trying to stay in touch with those in his life. He wasn’t seeing his mom much; his colleagues noticed the distance he was building between them, and Spencer couldn’t remember the last time he saw his “friends.”

Because at some point, the fear of losing people turned into a feeling of not being good enough to people’s lives and made him a loner. A sad loner.

That was something you immediately noticed the first time you saw Spencer in years.

Your life has barely changed from your last date. Still the same job, but at a higher place. Still the same apartment, but with a different setting. Still the same person, but more mature.

It wasn’t hard for Spencer to find you. And if he spent a whole year contemplating going back to your place before putting that thought away, the day he truly needed it, it took him a minute to decide it was time.

You didn’t question his presence here when you opened the door. Maybe he should have. But when Spencer grabbed your face after you simply said his name with confusion, nothing seemed to matter. 

Not his hair longer than before, not him looking more shaped yet more fragile, not the circle under his eyes being way darker than the last time you saw him. Not that he was eagerly kissing you, something he never did.

You remember Spencer being gentle, taking his time to appreciate every second with you.

No, he was hungry, like each second could be the last with you. For him.

“What are you doing here, Spence?” you finally asked him. You were both lying on the rug in your living room. His eyes were locked on the roof, like he was disconnecting from reality. His arm around your back, holding you against him, was brushing your skin slowly, but he seemed to do that mindlessly. 

And Spencer didn’t turn his head to look at you when you, you couldn’t stop looking at him. “I needed that.” Not you. You put away the pain hearing that and tried to see the good in this, that you were the one he went to. 

But still, something was different with Spencer.

It would take you a few nights to realize he wasn’t blushing anymore when you touched him. Or that he didn’t seem to have a lot to talk about.

Actually, Spencer wasn’t talking much anymore. 

For weeks, Spencer would come to your place at night. Either after a day at the office or when he came back from a case. Usually, when it was the latter, he would even stay the following day to fully decompress from what happened.

You tried to question him once or twice. But Spencer always had the same answer: going down on you to keep you quiet with your question.

It was a win-win situation. 

He was giving you pleasure and making you think about something else.

He was concentrating on something else, and your moans were filling his head with other thoughts.

Until one night, the sex wasn’t enough to put his problem away.

You didn’t expect Spencer to come. Two days ago, he told you he had to leave for a case and it would probably last a week. Nothing out of the ordinary. But it gave you the time to think about him and where this was going.

Yet, your bell rang at 10 p.m. Let’s say that dating an FBI agent taught you to not open your door to anybody. You almost played dead and ignored it. But your gut told you to look at who it might be. 

You didn’t expect to see Spencer through your spyhole.

You certainly didn’t expect to see him cry on the other side of your door.

“Spencer, what’s going on?” you said, opening your door and immediately bringing him inside. The saddest part was that he let you do it. He didn’t stop you when you took him in your arms. Neither when you brought him to the sofa and sat him on it while you kneeled in front of him.

He was shaking; his face looked red from the tears and the scratching he did with his fingers, trying to take the pain away. But it didn’t work. And hurt him even more.

You grabbed one of his hands to take it away from his face. You tried to ease his joints with a soft caress. You even tried to make eye contact, but it was a lost cause with the way he was closing his eyes hardly, probably hurting himself like that. “Talk to me, Spence,” you whispered, putting your chin on his knee. “Open to me.”

You hated how he pinched his lips together before talking, like he was trying so hard to not break down. “I can’t,” he sobbed. He repeated that multiple times, sounding more angry with himself each time.

But the fact he wasn’t letting go of your hand made you believe that maybe a part of him, maybe just a very little one, wanted to have you. He still came to you tonight, right?

“Why won’t you let me help you?” 

This was a genuine question. One that grew over the last weeks. Sometimes, you would wake up in the middle of the night wondering which signs you might have missed when he was here. What did he try to hide from you with kisses and attention that you weren’t asking for? And if maybe you weren’t an accomplice of his troubles by accepting all his treats, knowing it was an excuse to keep everything from himself.

And during these moments, you imagined what Spencer might have answered. That he didn’t want his burden to impact your relationship, that he didn’t want to talk to you specifically. 

But you never considered what was coming as an answer.

“…because I don’t deserve it.” 

The world went silent. 

Except for your heart that just fell on the floor and broke into a million pieces.

Except for Spencer’s sorrow being louder than ever in your small living room.

It was obvious that Spencer wasn’t doing ok. But you couldn’t imagine how broken he really was.

You couldn’t force him to look at you and make him see he wasn’t alone at all. So you put your forehead against his, his sweaty hair sticking against your skin. Your arms wrapped against Spencer so you could hold him against him. You couldn’t believe that this grown-up man, in his thirty, could be a broken kid inside. You tried to hold back the tears.

You stayed like that for minutes; you don’t even know how long. This could last an hour or two if he needed to. You probably could have stayed all night if it meant calming Spencer down.

Little by little, you felt his shaking stop and even one of his hands land on your arm. The pressure of his fingers on your skin wasn’t harder, almost like he didn’t have any strength anymore. It was more like a delicate touch. One that reminded you of the old days, when Spencer was too shy to touch you.

Once you felt he was ready to hear this, maybe not listen yet but at least be able to understand what you were saying, you stopped hugging him so you could grab his face in your hands. “You deserve to be helped. I—who told you this?”

You met the saddest eyes you’ve ever seen at this moment. Couple with his sad smile. Oh, how you wished you could just kiss the pain away for once.

“I just…” he started, with a grazed, hoarse voice. “Every person in my life ends up sad or hurt or dead. I’m a problem. I’m a burden. I don’t deserve someone to take the time to help me, be there for me. I can’t risk someone, you, taking the time to make me feel better if it means losing you at some point. I can’t, I can’t do that again.” You heard the sob in his voice at the end. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but Spencer gave you the look, one he strangely never gave to you but that you understood immediately, meaning that he still had a lot to say. And deep down, you were happy to shut it if it meant he was finally opening up.

“I was taking care of a kid these days. We knew he might be in danger, so I was supposed to make sure he would be fine while working the case.” Spencer took a moment to continue, but you could only focus on the tear running down his cheek. “He got killed. Because I couldn’t protect him. Everyone around me has something bad happening to them. Even in my job. How can I be such a bad person?” 

You started brushing away the tears with your thumb, but Spencer cuddled against your hand. There was something even sadder with this man feeling like he didn’t deserve to have someone yet still craving every attention he could get.

“You’re not a burden, Spencer,” you whispered, and he closed his eyes again. “I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you to go through all these moments by yourself. I can’t imagine how hurt you must be from living such difficult times over and over again. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to have someone by your side.”

He didn’t answer. You weren’t sure this was the best decision, but you sat on his knees, trying to be closer to him so you could make him feel less alone. 

You thought that if he didn’t want that, he would push you away. But the way Spencer's hands ended up on your back so quickly made you think that maybe he needed that too.

“I can’t and won’t force myself into your life, Spencer, never,” you said, brushing his hair away from his face. “But if you’re ready to try, I can be by your side and help you consider that you deserve to be a supporter. Not only by me but by all the people that love you.”

Again, your words working on him, Spencer opened his eyes slowly. This time, even if the sorrow was still present, there was the smallest and almost slightest light in them. “Because people love you, Spencer Reid.”

As an answer, the only one he could give you, Spencer brought you against him and hugged you as hard as he could. It wasn’t the tightest hug he ever gave, but it was the best he could do. And it was enough. Enough to know that you opened a door in his mind. 

You offered your bed to Spencer that night, but he insisted on you staying by your side. He refused to let you know it was due to the fear of the nightmares he had for months now. Nightmares that always had different stories but ended the same way: with him losing someone and being alone.

All he needed was you, and you were willing to give yourself entirely to help him get better.

You didn’t know if you imagined it, but you were sure that when he was falling asleep, holding you against him like an antistress comforter, Spencer thanked you.

[messers-moony]

SONG TWENTY-ONE: IS IT OVER NOW? | T.D

Pairing: Ex!Tim Drake X Fem!Reader Summary: Tim finally gets caught. Word Count: 2.6k

It was a hard breakup. She couldn’t deny that, even if she wanted to. 

Their breakup was like the worst plane turbulence. It was bound to happen sooner or later. She just hoped they could ride it out, but after too many mishaps, it was like cutting the ribbon on a finished building. Relief rolled off her in waves. Her shoulders were no longer to her ears. 

When she passed the newsstand every morning, she saw the rumors in the headlines. They were misleading and slacking in detail. 

“Tim Drake-Wayne seen with a new girl in a coffee shop?”

“The Drake-Wayne betrays his girlfriend!”

“Drake-Wayne, new playboy prince?”

She couldn’t help but scoff. The girls looked exactly like her. It was depressing to get the call from one of Tim’s brothers. Y/n could remember seeing Jason’s contact name on her phone late at night. Her papers were scattered on the island in the kitchen. The knot in her neck tightened. She reached for the phone vibrating and clicked the green button. Jason’s voice echoed in the familiar empty apartment. 

“Y/n?”

“What’s up, Jay?”

She flicked her pen back and forth. It wasn’t entirely unusual for Jason to call. However, it was usually Dick or Stephanie who called the most. Jason sighed, “You’re not gonna like this.”

“I’d like it more if you cut to the chase,” She retorted, “I have a shit ton of work to do and would like to get at least half of it done.”

“Tim’s cheating on you.”

The pen slammed on the countertop. The paperwork blurred in front of her. Suddenly, she seemed to have tunnel vision. Her mind had stopped working. She forced words from her mouth, “Excuse me?”

“He’s in a coffee shop.”

“Are you sure it isn’t Tam?”

“I can assure you it isn’t.” Jason sounded upset, “I was just passing by and saw him inside. I almost went inside to say hi until I saw a girl who looked almost exactly like you kissing him. I genuinely thought it was you at first until I noticed her hair was off, and it wasn’t your bag at the table.”

She bit her lip, “Thank you for telling me, Jay.”

“This- This isn’t-“ He stuttered, “This won’t be the last time I talk to you, right? Are you going to cut contact with the family because of this? Dick might flip. Stephanie will literally bother you till you block her, which might break her heart, and I-“

“Jason, relax,” Y/n interjected, “I’m not going anywhere right now. But I’m gonna need to get my things out of this apartment. Maybe stop by while he’s on his date and help me?”

“Of course.”

That was one week ago. She was living with Jason in the best safe house he had. It honestly wasn’t all that bad. It was clean, had some decorations, and he kept groceries stocked. Jason had been a wonderful roommate. He cooked and made sure she was okay. Y/n had appreciated it. However, the press got other ideas. Rumors began about her leaving Tim for his elder brother. 

She didn’t have time to address every rumor. Truth be told, she didn’t really care either. It was another night of late work. This time, her work spread on top of the birch coffee table and sitting crisscrossed on the rug. A mug of hot chocolate Jason had made about half an hour ago was placed on a coaster, still warm. 

He didn’t sit far. His place was in an armchair with a book in his hands. The company was pleasant and soothing. Jason didn’t talk. All she heard occasionally was the slick of a page-turning. Sometimes, he’d steal a highlighter or a pen and gently place them back on the table. However, it wasn’t bad until a knock echoed in the apartment. 

She heard Jason sigh and place his book face down on the coffee table. His socked feet drifted across the wooden floor. The door opened, and she could see the legs of the figure through Jason’s. It didn’t take long for her to put together who was outside the door, “What do you want?”

“I need some help with a case.”

“You couldn’t have called?” Jason asked, “I’m a little busy.”

Tim sighed, “Look, I’ll owe you one, okay?”

“I can’t, Tim.” Jason sounded exhausted, “I’m sorry.”

“Why not?” Tim scoffed, “Too busy fucking my ex-girlfriend?”

Y/n jumped from where she was sitting, “Oh, you absolute piece of shit.”

Jason slowly moved away from the door, and Tim stepped in without permission. The door slammed behind him, “Oh, I’m the piece of shit now? How fucking ironic is that.”

“Yes, you are!” She screamed, “You’re a fucking cheater! Please don’t deny it either! You’re just pissed off this was the time I decided to call it off. Don’t act like I didn’t find lipsticks and underwear around the apartment when I went on business trips.”

“At least I’m not fucking the next family member in line!”

She narrowed her eyes, “That’s all you have for your defense, don’t you? Cause you know damn well I didn’t cheat, so all you have for ammunition is those fucking rumors. Do you honestly think I’d do that to you?”

“What am I supposed to think!” He replied, “I came to the apartment, and all your shit was gone one day with a note and a key saying we were over.”

“Oh, for fucks sake,” Y/n murmured, “Your face is plastered everywhere with a girl that looks just like me. A girl your family fucking hates for her attitude. A girl who isn’t even successful! Maybe, just maybe, instead of finding a clone for me, you should’ve just kept me instead.”

“Now get the fuck out.”

“But I-“

“Timothy, get the fuck out of this apartment building.”

She could see the fire in his eyes. He picked up the cross-body bag and pulled open the door. It slammed again, announcing his departure. Y/n walked back to her spot on the floor and sat down again. She grabbed the mug and downed the rest of the liquid. It felt warm against her raw throat from screaming. She saw Jason sitting in the armchair from the corner of her eye. 

“He cheated on you multiple times?”

Her grip on the pen increased, “Yes, I tried to keep everything under wraps. But the press finds out, and rumors go out. I denied them every time.”

“Why didn’t you-“

“Dick. Damian. Stephanie. Cass. You.” Y/n clicked the pen back in, “You guys are everything. Movie nights with Dick. Drawing with Damian. Gossip sessions with Steph. Teaching Cass bigger words every day. Talking about books with you. It keeps me afloat. I’m not a vigilante, but I have a stressful job and a shitty life. I wasn’t about to lose the one good thing I had.”

“What about Bruce?”

She let out a small laugh, “Bruce always treated me like a daughter. He was always so happy to see Tim smiling again. And I knew that I couldn’t ruin that for him. Bruce had seen Tim suffer too much, and I didn’t want to be the reason Bruce had to see Tim falter again. He supported me. Nobody knows this, but he paid off all my student loans for one year on Christmas. I didn’t even ask him. He just did it as a thank you. 

“Even though I knew Tim’s smile was no longer because of me, I couldn’t stand to see Bruce look at Tim with that longing look anymore. Every time Bruce mentioned marriage, I would see Tim’s smile drop and be replaced. It hurt. But it helped Bruce see a future for his son besides working his whole life.”

“You went through all that suffering for us?”

“And I’d do it again.”

He didn’t talk much after that. She was grateful. The papers in front of her distracted her enough. It was a blur of words and bright-colored highlighting. It felt like seconds before Jason stood again and grabbed the mug from the table. She heard his feet dash away, and her highlighter swung in her fingertips. The sink ran in the background and shut off with a squeak. Jason came back around the table and began collecting the papers into piles.

“Jay, what are you doing?”

“It’s almost one in the morning. You’re working with Dick in the gym tomorrow, remember?” He replied, taking the highlighter from her hand, “He wants you there at six.”

She sighed, “Fine, fine.”

Sleep came easily. As soon as she had hit the bed, sleep came over her. It was early in the morning when she heard clinking in the kitchen. Y/n swept her feet onto the floor and opened the bedroom door to smell the sweet scent of coffee brewing. Jason was in the kitchen in the same shirt and sweatpants. His curls were touseled, “Mornin.”

“Good morning,” Jason said with a soft smile. There’s coffee in the pot for you.”

“Thanks.” She reached for a mug and filled it with the smooth coffee. 

It was five in the morning. The sun was barely rising through the windows in Jason’s safe house. She watched him make breakfast while she stewed over the cup of coffee in her hands. It was five-fifteen when she went into her room to get dressed. She left the safe house at five-thirty with her keys, coffee in a thermos, and phone in her hand. The car unlocked with a click. The coffee was in the cupholder, the seatbelt clicked in, and the phone connected to the radio. Music played the entire way to the gymnastics gym. 

Y/n shifted the car into gear once she parked in the parking lot. The car door hadn’t even been locked when she heard the clicking of a camera lens. She sighed before turning to see a man not too far away with a camera. He was snapping pictures of her in front of the gym where the notorious Dick Grayson worked. She could practically read the headlines now. 

Regardless, she went into the gym to see Dick smiling brightly. He wore a white tank top, black pants, and old sneakers. His hair looked a complete mess. He sat on top of the receptionist counter, feet swinging back and forth, a cup of cereal in his hand, “Hey! How are you?”

“I’m good,” Y/n said, “How’re you doing?”

“Doing great!” Dick smiled, “You sure you up for today? I know you probably have some casework to do for Bruce and whatever evidence analysis you have to do for the GCPD.”

“Yeah,” She swayed the coffee in the thermos, “I should be fine. Plus, gotta spend time with my favorite Wayne.”

Dick snorted, “Shhhh, don’t let people hear you, they might start thinking when they aren’t used to it.”

“You’ve seen the headlines then, I suppose?”

“Of course, they’re all liars, of course.” Dick waved his hand, “You and Tim wouldn’t ever cheat on each other.”

Her keys fell to the floor. Dick perked up, “You okay?”

“Oh,” She swallowed and grabbed her keys from the floor, “Dick, Tim and I broke up.”

“What?”

“I thought Jason would’ve told everyone,” Y/n muttered, “The stories of Tim cheating aren’t fake. They are very much real. I’ve been rooming with Jason in his safe house.”

Dick jumped off the counter and put his cereal on the desk. His arms wrapped around her body tightly, “If I would’ve known you could’ve stayed with me, or I would’ve had a movie night.”

She smiled. Dick’s cologne surrounded her like a weighted blanket, “It’s okay, Dick. I thought Jason told everyone."

“Would you like me to make a statement in the family group chat?” Dick pulled back to look at her eyes, “I will if it’s easier for you.”

“Yes, please.”

It didn’t take long for the word to get out after that. She had her phone in the gym locker with all the other belongings. It was nice to leave the safe house and get away from work to teach the kids with Dick. It made her feel refreshed. To finally get her mind off of something and embrace something completely new. The kids absolutely loved her. She visited the gym once a week to say hi and help Dick out after rough nights on patrol. 

She was covered in chalk when the day ended, and the kids were gone. Dick threw her a towel for the sweat. Y/n put it around her neck, “Jason said Tim’s been doing this for a while.”

“Yeah,” Y/n sighed, “Not something I went out advertising. Especially with the press.”

“I’m sorry he did it.” Dick said, rubbing his hands on his shorts, “I know I have no reason to be sorry. A part of me feels responsible. I practically raised him and feel like I raised him better than this.”

“It’s not your fault, Dick.”

He blew a raspberry, “I just hope this doesn’t mean we’re never gonna see you again.”

“I’ve been around for years,” She drawled, “I’m not going anywhere. You guys are the only family I have. If Tim doesn’t like it, too bad.”

“That’s my girl.” Dick smiled and ruffled her hair. 

She smiled and walked back to the locker room. The towel around her neck was used to wipe sweat drips from her forehead. She twisted the lock, and it popped open. Her hand reached for her phone, which was unlocked by the facial recognition software. Her messages were blown up with texts from the Wayne family about the breakup. The replies came quickly, telling them it wasn’t their fault and she’d still be around. 

Once she replied to the messages, she grabbed her belongings and left the gym. The car ride to Jason’s safe house was smooth, and light music played in the background. Thankfully, no cameras were flashing or clicking when she left the gym. The safe house was an old abandoned apartment waiting to be gentrified in the neighborhood. Her car was parked behind the building, safely hidden away. 

The door clicked open with her key, and it closed behind her. Y/n washed her coffee tumbler and put her keys on the island. A morning’s worth of sweat and grim on her skin, she stepped into the shower and thoroughly cleaned herself. The bathroom was steamy when the water turned off. She wrapped a towel around herself and combed through her hair. She grabbed an old hoodie and a pair of pants. They slid on easily enough. Her eyes caught sight of her desk. Her hands gripped two of the folders along with her pencil pouch. 

She pulled the bar stool out with her foot and placed her belongings on the island. Her body relaxed as her eyes scanned the forensic reports from the latest crimes in Gotham. 

It took two months for her to find her own place finally. She still had her days with the Waynes when Tim was working or away. Jason had indeed been her rock throughout it all. He provided her with a place to stay and a friend in the darkest times. Dick had provided her with the best coffee and crimes for her to investigate. She spent a lot of her time in the lab at the GCPD. Sometimes, he even brought Damian to keep her company while he sketched away in his notebook. 

Bruce had set down the last box in her brand-new apartment. It wasn’t extravagant. He offered to buy her a new apartment, but she declined. She wanted to start anew by herself. Y/n needed to know that she could do it. That she could move on from Tim. They had been dating for five years. She couldn’t precisely place when the cheating began. Her estimate came to somewhere after three years of them being together. She had her hands on her hips as her eyes gazed around her new apartment. 

A smile came to her face, “I’m so glad it’s over now.”

[chemicalcindercat]

Tim follows Bruce's rules perfectly. In this way, perhaps, he can be better than his predecessors. He knows from observation that Jason liked to ignore the rules and argue with Bruce, and he can guess from what he knows about Dick that he was the same. Tim can’t afford to ask questions, or argue with Bruce, or break the rules. He has to be perfect. Too much is riding on it. If he messes this up and gets Robin taken away from him, he doesn’t know what will happen to Bruce. If he’ll slip back into his old ways and walk along the edge between life and death.

Because the thing is, Bruce is getting better. He’s not the same Batman he used to be; he buried a piece of himself six feet under with Jason’s body, and Tim doesn’t think he’ll ever get it back. Still, Bruce’s decisions in the field become more logical, and he can recognize when to go home and tend to his wounds now. He even invites Tim to stay for dinner after patrol once, but Tim knows a courtesy invite when he sees one, and politely declines. 

Outside of the suit, Bruce keeps himself at a distance at all times, and Tim is grateful for it. It certainly makes it easier to remember that this is nothing more than a business partnership. 

Dick is a little harder to keep away from. The older boy has a way of making Tim feel relaxed and safe around him that he’s never experienced before. Dick’s smiles make him feel warm inside, and Tim knows that the laid-back personality and dad jokes are a front that he puts on, yet he still can’t help but look forward to Dick’s visits to Gotham. He almost feels like an older brother, but Tim scratches that thought out of his brain the second it crosses his mind.

He realizes abruptly that he’s gotten too comfortable with Dick, and forces himself to withdraw. He keeps an eye out for the little things that tell what Dick is really feeling, like the flash of sadness in his gaze that he quickly hides whenever Tim does something that reminds him a little too much of his lost baby brother, or the way he freezes up any time he has physical contact with Tim while he’s in the Robin suit, or how he holds his breath for a fracture of a second whenever Tim is even slightly in danger. Tim learns to look for these signs, and holds them like barbs around his heart to prevent himself from overstepping.

Surprisingly, Tim finds it the hardest to keep himself from growing attached to Alfred. The butler is more compassionate than Tim ever could have expected, and it gets increasingly harder to keep him at a distance. He’s kind, and caring, and says exactly what’s on his mind (it’s very amusing to witness him put Bruce in his place and stay perfectly polite while doing so).

Tim pretends not to notice the way Alfred checks him for injuries after every patrol (with a med-kit waiting just in case), and sneaks extra protein bars into the various pockets of his suit whenever Tim gets low, and always has a steaming mug of the best hot cocoa in the world waiting after the particularly grueling patrols. Tim knows better than to accept Bruce’s pity-invites to dinner, but he’d never waste a mug of Alfred’s hot cocoa. (As long as he drinks it quickly he’s not overstaying his welcome, he justifies it to himself.) He ignores the sad looks Alfred gives him when Tim makes excuses to rush home straight after patrol rather than hanging out, or when he easily brushes off the older man’s concerns regarding his dark eye-bags and alarming coffee intake.

He keeps them at a distance at all times. They don’t want you, he tells himself, they need you. And that’s enough. It has to be. He can’t get attached to them because he doesn’t deserve to have a relationship with any of them; he hasn’t earned it. And if (when) being Robin gets him killed, they won’t be hindered by the inconvenience. 

Tim knows he isn’t the best option for Robin, and some days that fact looms over his head more than others. He isn’t even a good Robin, anyone would have been better than Tim. He’s still actively fighting against brain fog every day, and he has to write things down constantly so that he won’t forget them, and sometimes at 3:00AM when he’s trying to finish his case notes and on his fourth coffee the sleep deprivation and migraines just feel like too much.

When it gets really bad, he reminds himself that nobody else stepped up. 

He might not be a good Robin, but he’s the only Robin that Gotham has right now.

So he sucks it up and finishes his case notes. He ignores the headaches and exhaustion and goes to school the next day anyways. He doesn’t bother Bruce or Alfred with the minor injuries that come from patrol. He stitches himself up at home and tries not to get blood on his mother’s expensive rugs. 

When it feels like too much, he keeps going, because there is no other option.

[Excerpt from chapter two of Blue Pills and Scattered Dreams, which will be posted soon...]

[until-the-house-shakes]

Slip ups

Wolfstar raising Regulus/ Werewolf! Regulus

Microfic

-

Regulus didn’t mean for this title to become a regular thing. It genuinely started as an accidental slip up, and he was far too embarrassed to correct anyone. Plus, the idea of having others believe that Remus and Sirius were his dads instead of his actual birth parents, didn’t seem that awful to him.

As long as Remus and Sirius never found out. Because if they did, they would be over the top obnoxious about it.

-

The first slip up happened the first night at Hogwarts. Him and his new roommates were sharing small details about their lives. Barty went on about how awful his father was, and how he planned on being a much better Ravenclaw than he ever was. Evan talked about his twin sister and how he was happy they were put in the same house so he can keep an eye on her. Regulus then started to talk about Sirius and Remus, and didn’t even realize the titles he gave them until Barty spoke up.

“Wow, your dads are young. How were they even allowed to adopt you?” It was an innocent enough question, but still made Regulus beyond flustered. “Oh uh… well.. they.. it’s complicated but they’re basically my dads so… enough questions.”

The conversation then took a turn to special interests and Regulus honestly couldn’t remember what else happened that night, but ‘dads’ stuck to him like a parasite.

-

The second slip up was less mortifying, but maybe because it was also much more private than the first. It happened in the hospital wing after an accidental potion mishap. Barty was certain he knew how much fluxweed he needed to add to the polyjuice potion, but in the end, added way too much and the cauldron exploded. Thankfully nothing terrible happened, just a few burns on Regulus’ arm that Madam Pompfrey could easily heal.

“I will have to call your guardians about this. But I’m sure Mr. Lupin already knows.” Madam Pompfrey stated as he wrapped up the last of Regulus’ burns. “Great. More reasons for dad to flip out about my safety. You know he won’t even let me try out for quidditch? How unfair is that!” Regulus was so absorbed in his own pity party he didn’t even catch the title he called Remus.

Quidditch has been an ongoing fight between the three Lupin boys since the second day of school. Sirius and Regulus believe it would be a wonderful thing for Regulus to try out for, seeing as he’s been flying on a broom since last year (and really needed the friends), but Remus is far too concerned about the young werewolf’s safety. Regulus likes that Remus cares about him, makes him feel a type of love that his birth parents never gave him, but he was starting to cross a line of over protective that was annoying Regulus. He just wanted to play quidditch. Where is the harm in that?

“I see where your dad is coming from, love. He was in the hospital wing for your other father and Mr. Potter every other day due to a quidditch injury. It’s a dangerous sport.” Madam Pompfrey laughed, sending out a patronus for the DADA professor.

Regulus didn’t realize what they were calling Remus and Sirius until Promfrey said ‘other father’. Once it was clear, Regulus was bright red and quickly stuttering out “Don’t tell him I called him dad. Please. He’ll be a right prat about it.” The young kid groaned, feeling very embarrassed about their previous conversation.

The medi-witch only giggled and promised to keep their conversation a secret for the time being.

-

Months flew past and soon enough it was winter break, and Regulus only had very few ‘slip ups’ since the day in the medical wing. It wasn’t like Regulus was embarrassed to see Remus and Sirius as his dads, he just knew those two would be over dramatic about it, especially his brother, and he was never in the mood to deal with such theatrics.

Sadly, he definitely had to deal with ‘such theatrics’ soon.

It was the morning after a full, and Regulus woke up in the backyard of Sirius’ house surrounded by his brother’s closest friends. Remus was back to his normal self, but Sirius, James, and Peter were still in their animagus forms. It was pretty entertaining to see Wormy sleeping in the antlers of Prongs, while Padfoot was laid on top of Remus as a blanket.

Regulus tried to get up from the hard ground, but his plans were quickly foiled the second he placed any pressure on his left foot.

“Fuck!” The pained cry woke up all the adults around him, but Regulus didn’t care much about their comfort when his leg felt as if it just snapped in half. Why did it hurt so badly? He never was in this much pain after a full moon. What the fuck happened last night?

“Cub, it’s okay. You’re okay. What happened?” Remus instantly was at Regulus’ side. Carrying the small boy inside to safety. Even though the young werewolf didn’t remember, Remus was all too aware that last night was an awful moon. His cub kept fighting with Padfoot, and then became hyper aware of some scratch on his leg. Despite all the adults trying their hardest to keep the cub from tearing his leg apart, there were still a ton of scratches and a few large bite marks left on his poor cub.

“My leg hurts! I tried.. I tried putting pressure on it.. and I fell. It hurts so bad dad. I can’t.. I can’t” Regulus cried out, burying his head into the safety of Remus’ neck. By this point, all the marauders were shifted back into their human forms, and bustling around the kitchen to help however they can. Peter was making breakfast, James was getting clothes for the two werewolves, and Sirius was getting potions to help fix up their kid.

But everything stopped the second Regulus said ‘Dad’.

They all knew he accidentally called Remus dad every now and again, but he never once called him that in person. Never to his face.

Sirius was trying his hardest to not cry from joy.

“I know it hurts cub. We’re going to fix it okay? I promise we’ll fix it and it won’t hurt anymore.” Remus kissed the top of Regulus’ head before graciously taking his robe from James to cover up. He then helped Regulus into his own robe and started fixing his cub up with the help of Sirius.

-

It has been hours since Regulus called Remus ‘dad’, and none of them have talked since then. Not even James can get Regulus to come out of his room for a few words, and James was by far the kid’s favorite.

“He’s probably embarrassed! It’s like calling your teacher mom. You know all about that Pads.” Peter said, trying his hardest to defuse the tension in the room. He was right. Sirius used to accidentally call Minnie ‘mom’ all the time back in school, but that still felt so much different to Regulus calling Remus ‘dad’.

Remus being called dad wasn’t even an issue! All the boys thought it was an adorable and honoring title, but Regulus seemed far too embarrass to see it like that.

“He’s a kid. Let him be embarrassed by it. I remember being that age, if I did anything embarrassing I instantly had my walls up and ready to hide for days. I’ll give him some time and when he’s ready to talk, we can talk.” Remus shrugged, meaning every word he said. He got embarrassed easily his first few years of Hogwarts, and still does even to this day. While he fully believe Regulus had nothing to be embarrassed about, he understood why his cub wanted to hide away, and wouldn’t judge him for it. He would give him time.

-

Apparently all Regulus needed was a full day by himself, because by nighttime, Sirius and Remus heard the all too familiar patter of their cub’s footsteps heading to their room.

“Reg? Is everything alright?” Sirius asked once he was sure Regulus was fully in the room with them.

“… I had a nightmare. Can I sleep with you?” Came the small, broken voice of their kid. Sure, they didn’t birth him, but Regulus was their kid and nothing could change that. Hell he even shared the last name Lupin! He was theirs damnit.

“Of course you can cub.” Remus smiled, patting at the open space between him and Sirius- Regulus’ favorite spot to sleep.

A few minutes of quiet passed while Regulus got settled into bed between the two men. If Sirius didn’t know any better, he would have thought he was asleep, but before that thought could go anywhere he heard a very quiet, “night dads. Love you.”

“Night kiddo. Love you too.” Sirius smiled, allowing his eyes to close for some peaceful sleep.

“Night Cub. Love you the most.”

[deezee112]

The worst ending 19 : Trapped in a Dream of Love.

The worst ending 18 | The worst ending 20

Yandere!Malleus Draconia x GN!Reader

A/N : I remember I wrote this ending at 4am and I was so sleepy I wanted to sleep and I couldn't take it anymore. So if you find this ending bad, well...blame it on my sleepiness.

Warnings : Psychological horror , Unsettling dream sequences, Feeling of entrapment , Slow-burn tension leading to a tragic ending

Tags :

@iris-arcadia @yuu-twisted

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

You don’t remember when the dream started.

It always began the same way standing in the middle of an empty field, the wind brushing against your skin, and in front of you, a boy with dark hair and empty eyes. He never spoke, only stared, waiting.

One night, something changed.

You crouched down, looking at him closely. He was young, maybe five or six, his skin pale and his expression eerily blank. A nameless child. A lost thing.

" You need a name.. " you murmured.

His head tilted slightly, eyes watching you with quiet curiosity.

" Malleus. " you decided. " That’s what I’ll call you. "

At first, he didn’t react. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a small, almost knowing smile.

You taught Malleus everything how to speak, how to walk properly, how to read. In your dreams, time passed differently. Days, weeks, even years seemed to flow like water. He grew taller, his features sharper, more refined. But something about him was always...off.

Sometimes, when he looked at you, his eyes were too intense. Sometimes, you swore you heard a voice whispering in the wind, urging you to wake up.

But you never did.

Because why would you?

This dream was peaceful, wasn’t it?

One evening, you sat by a fireplace that hadn’t been there before. Malleus, now nearly your height, sat beside you. His head rested against your shoulder.

" Sister. " he murmured.

The title was strange, but you didn’t correct him. " Hm? "

" I like this. " His voice was quiet, almost hesitant. " Being here with you. "

You smiled, ruffling his hair. " Me too. "

His fingers curled around your sleeve. " ...You'll stay, won’t you? "

You blinked. " Of course.. "

Something flickered in his expression.

For the first time, you wondered was this really a dream?

One night, you woke up.

But not in your real bed.

The sky above you was pitch black, swirling like ink. The world around you twisted, shifting between familiar places and complete emptiness.

Malleus stood a few feet away, watching.

" Where are we? " you asked, heart pounding.

His smile was slow. Unreadable.

" We're home. "

No.

This wasn’t home.

This wasn’t even a dream anymore.

" Malleus, I— "

" You promised. " he whispered.

Wind howled. The sky cracked like glass.

And then, for the first time, you saw them.

Curled black horns. A flick of a dragon’s tail.

He wasn’t human.

Not anymore.

Maybe he never was.

You tried to wake up.

You screamed, clawing at your own skin, trying to pull yourself back to reality.

But Malleus caught you. Held you close.

" You can’t leave. " he murmured, almost lovingly.

Tears burned your eyes. " Let me go.... "

He sighed, pressing his forehead against yours. " I knew you would try. "

And then darkness.

When you opened your eyes again, the dream was gone.

But you were still there.

Trapped.

Forever.

[serenastark-official]

🕶️ 06: The Official “Shut Up and Listen” Guide to Talking to Fury Without Getting Yelled At 🕶️

(Because Let’s Be Honest, You’re Gonna Get Yelled at Anyway)

Alright, rookies (and experienced disasters alike), listen up. If you ever find yourself in the terrifying, no-nonsense, one-eyed presence of Nicholas J. Fury, congratulations! You’ve officially screwed up enough to warrant a personal lecture.

Or, you know, he just wants to talk. (Which is honestly worse, because if Fury wants to talk to you, it means he’s either planning something or preparing to ruin your day.)

But don’t worry, because your girl, Serena Stark, has mastered the fine art of not getting obliterated by Fury’s death glare. And now, I pass this sacred knowledge on to you.

Step 1: Read the Room

Before you even think about opening your mouth, take a second to assess the situation:

Is Fury pacing? Bad sign.

Is he standing still, arms crossed? Worse sign.

Is he taking off his sunglasses? Immediate danger.

Is he rubbing his temples like you personally gave him a migraine? You’re already dead.

If you see any of these signs, your safest move is to remain completely silent until further notice.

Step 2: Speak Only When Spoken To (Yes, Even You, Starks)

I know, I know—keeping quiet is physically painful for people like me (and possibly you). But unless you’ve got a damn good reason to say something, keep your genius commentary locked down.

Fury doesn’t do unnecessary conversation. Every word that comes out of his mouth is either: ✅ A direct order ✅ A warning ✅ A very important, life-changing piece of classified information ✅ A creative way of telling you how badly you screwed up

Your job? Absorb the information and DO NOT INTERRUPT.

Step 3: Keep Your Snark to a Minimum (Or at Least, Time It Right)

Now, I get it—sarcasm is a way of life. But this is Fury we’re talking about. He invented the “I don’t have time for this” attitude.

Some acceptable times to be sarcastic:

If he gives you permission to speak (rare, but possible).

If he’s already annoyed but not at you.

If you’re Tony Stark. (But let’s be honest, even he pushes it.)

Some BAD times to be sarcastic:

At the start of the conversation.

If he’s holding a file with your name on it.

If you’re already in trouble.

If you value your dignity and peace of mind.

Remember, Fury has infinite patience for world-ending crises but zero patience for your witty remarks unless you prove yourself useful first.

Step 4: Don’t Volunteer Information He Didn’t Ask For

Fury is not your therapist. He doesn’t care about your day, your weekend plans, or how “technically, it wasn’t your fault” (spoiler alert: it probably was).

If he asks, “What happened?”—stick to the facts.

BAD RESPONSE: “Okay, so first of all, it wasn’t exactly an explosion—”

GOOD RESPONSE: “The experiment destabilized, resulting in an unintended detonation.”

Translation: Less is more. The less you say, the fewer ways he can use it against you later.

Step 5: If You Mess Up, Own It (Before He Owns You)

Look, you’re going to mess up. It’s inevitable. But if Fury calls you out, the worst thing you can do is try to talk your way out of it.

Don’t shift blame. He already knows whose fault it is.

Don’t make excuses. It won’t save you.

Don’t argue. Fury doesn’t debate—he declares facts, and you deal with them.

A simple “Understood.” or “Won’t happen again.” will do wonders for your survival rate.

And whatever you do, do not say “technically.”

“Technically, it wasn’t my fault.” → Fury Death Stare Level 100.

“Technically, it worked before it exploded.” → Fury Headache Incoming.

“Technically, I had it under control.” → No, you didn’t.

Just take the loss and move on. Trust me, it’s the safest option.

Step 6: If You Must Speak, Make It Worth His Time

Fury has exactly zero patience for pointless chatter. If you have something to say, get to the damn point.

BAD: “So, um, about the thing that happened earlier—”

GOOD: “We contained the situation, but we need backup securing the perimeter.”

Fury doesn’t need a novel. Give him clear, direct, and useful information.

Step 7: Accept That You’re Going to Get Yelled At Anyway

Let’s be honest, no matter what you do, Fury’s probably going to yell at you. It’s just how he operates.

If you’re too reckless → You’ll get yelled at.

If you’re too careful → You’ll still get yelled at.

If you breathe wrong → Congratulations, you’re still getting yelled at.

At this point, it’s not about avoiding the yelling—it’s about minimizing the damage.

Step 8: Never Hang Up or Decline a Call from Fury

I don’t care what you’re doing—if Fury calls, you answer.

It doesn’t matter if: 🚨 You’re in the middle of a fight. 🚨 You’re sleeping. 🚨 You’re “busy” with something (or someone). 🚨 You just really don’t feel like talking to him.

The moment you hit “decline,” you’ve just signed up for a whole new level of suffering.

Best case? He calls back, more annoyed.

Worst case? He finds you in person.

And let me tell you, getting ignored by Fury is the last thing you want on your record. You don’t decline a call from the guy who can put you on a global watchlist with one keystroke.

Oh, and never let him go to voicemail. If he has to leave you a message, expect something along the lines of:

“You really just let me go to voicemail? That’s cute. You have 30 seconds to call me back before I make this your problem.”

Don’t test him.

Bonus: What NOT to Say to Fury

If you enjoy living, avoid these phrases at all costs:

❌ “I can explain.” (No, you can’t.) ❌ “Well, technically…” (I already told you—NO.) ❌ “It wasn’t my fault.” (It was.) ❌ “Relax, I had it under control.” (Oh, REALLY?) ❌ “Are you sure that’s the best plan?” (Unless you want to be put on SHIELD’s watchlist.) ❌ “I read about this on the internet.” (You are now Fury’s biggest disappointment.)

Final Step: Survive & Get Out

Once Fury is done with you, leave immediately. Do not linger. Do not ask follow-up questions unless absolutely necessary. Just nod, turn around, and evacuate.

And above all else: DO NOT GIVE HIM A REASON TO CALL YOU BACK.

In Conclusion:

Talking to Fury without getting yelled at is an art. But even if you follow every rule on this list, you’ll still probably end up on the receiving end of the Glare™.

So just accept your fate, be smart, and for the love of science—don’t make it worse.

Now, go forth and attempt not to piss off the man who always knows more than you.

(Good luck. You’re gonna need it.)

tagging people who need this the most: @emma-hope-stark-official @peterparker-thespiderman @goddess-of-birds @strangeofficial @the-ironman @under0-0s

shoutout: @the-colonel-rhodes

You’re the only one on this list who might actually handle Fury correctly. Teach the rest of us.

[asheepinfrance]

i wrote this with futile devices in mind but i don't think that really shows. i don't think it matters cause i think this one's silly. there's not much of a plot, this is just sorta a day in patrick's life after moving back in, in my mind a week or so post-new rochelle. i hope you like it. as always, feel free to leave any thoughts, critiques, etc. in the comments, should you have any advice on where to improve. thank you <333

The sun rose an hour ago, and Patrick woke with it, whether or not he wanted to. He can blame Tashi for the disturbance, because apparently she’d been the one to choose the thin, white curtains that are doing absolutely nothing to block out the rays of sunshine threatening to make him actually do something with his day. He’d rather not, really, when it’s better to curl up and pretend nothing is real besides the warmth of his blanket for another few hours. Eventually, Tashi and Art join the sensory input keeping him from sleep. He’s not even comfortable anymore, too leggy and curled up to fit onto their couch properly, but he can’t make himself move. He likes that he knows they’re looking at him, learning to watch him exist again. Learning to be comfortable with him the way they used to be. 

It’s quite easy, actually, to get comfortable again. He hasn’t changed in too many ways, though there’s an air about him that hadn’t been there in their younger years. Whether that came with age, a natural maturation, or their absence they weren’t sure. They’d feel less guilty about the former, though. Tashi’s holding a mug in both hands, the warmth slightly stinging at her palms, heating the metal of her wedding ring up. She watches Art watch Patrick, who shifts slightly to cover his face with the throw blanket they’d lent him. How he’d ended up staying the night at their hotel the first time was unclear. Now, here he is, curled into the couch of their actual home, acting as Dad #2 for Lily when she and Art are training, and switching off when she finally gives in and coaches Patrick a bit. She’s sure her mother appreciates the break. 

She laughs through her nose, her shoulders bouncing with it, and the sound, or lack thereof, breaks Art from his trance. “Has he always been this deep a sleeper?”, she asks like she doesn’t know the answer. Art drums his fingers against the marble countertop, a satisfying, rhythmic wave created by just some skin and bone. She wishes she could be an artist in that way, just moving her body and making something worth seeing. She used to have that. “I don’t know, it’s been a long time”, he shrugs, sniffles a little bit. They both know that he won’t move until about 12 in the afternoon, just like he always had done.

Patrick “wakes” to Tashi’s eyes level with his, and he can’t imagine why she’d kneel for him of all people, and just for the sake of greeting him. The roles should be reversed and he knows it, Art probably knows it from wherever he’s watching this display from. He feels a bit like a child with the way she speaks to him, airy and soft like he’s delicate. He isn’t entirely aware that he is. “Hey… you sleep ok?” He grunts when he sits up, a noticeable ache in the muscles of his lower back that her gaze immediately falls to, her lips pulling down the slightest bit. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like for that disapproving of hers to be born out of concern. “You know you can always sleep in the guest room, right?” He shakes his head, waves his hand somewhere in her direction to signal disapproval, and she doesn’t really understand why he won’t take the easy way out. After all, isn’t Patrick known for it? But he thinks he hasn’t earned it yet. He has to make Tashi and Art remember he’s sweet, that he can be a better man than he’d shown himself to be, because no one loves a man who only wins for himself, and then again he rarely wins at all. Everyone loves a selfless champion, so no one could quite love him. So he needs them to remember he values their attention so deeply that just knowing the layout of their house now, watching them exist and love one another, knowing the name of their preferred coffee, that’s enough for him. He isn’t sure whose approval it is that he needs more at this point.

Patrick’s favorite part of the day, or at least, part of the day to himself, has become showering. He remembers the first night, back at the hotel in New Rochelle, he’d watched dirt he hadn’t known existed run off of his skin in that warm water and he felt new. He felt clean and pure and cried like a baby, curling onto that cold, tile shower floor. He only snapped back into his own body when Art had knocked on the door after an hour, fearing Patrick had fallen. Patrick isn’t sure why he let Art come in, shakily voicing his consent through the unlocked door, considering his state, but Art didn’t mind. He minded so little that he kneeled at Patrick’s side, still clothed, and held him through it. He ignored the shirt now sticking to his skin, the inevitable heaviness of wet denim, and let Patrick fall into him like he’d needed to for 13 years. His awe at consistent availability of warm water hasn’t run off, and he can’t get out until the jack-and-jill bathroom mirrors have fogged up with steam, and he lets himself hope for a bit that his toothbrush will join theirs in that little cup in between the two sinks. 

When he watches Lily later that day, sitting on his knees to watch her intently draw on a sheet of yellow construction, she doesn’t seem to notice the weight of her words when she says, “You know, Mama and Dad haven’t been fighting so much now that you’re here.” She’s like Tashi in that sense, not knowing that every little thing she does has everyone’s heart aching. He can’t help the little scoff that comes out, more from disbelief rather than annoyance, and Lily just goes back to scribbling on her paper. “Whatcha drawing, kid?” He asks, forcing himself to change the topic and not wallow in something sickening and sweet in front of this little girl he’s still finding his way around interacting with. She pushes the paper towards him, and when he flips it over, he finds four disproportionately drawn figures, two tall men, one woman with two lines for hair, and a smaller girl furthest right. He decides then and there he’s going to hang it on the fridge, and wonders when he got so comfortable so as to feel he can make an imprint on their home. Even one so small as paper placed on the fridge with a magnet.

At night, a time that comes with a star-riddled sky, after Lily’s been put to bed and Patrick insisted on washing the dishes leftover from dinner, he finds himself staring at a small family photo on their wall. Art, Tashi, and Lily, clearly younger then, on some sunny patch of grass. He wonders what life would be like had he been there, what their walls would look like if they had traces of him, too. He feels like it’d sully their image. Selfishly, he hopes they wouldn’t mind that hit to their reputation. Maybe he hopes they actively choose to endure it. It’s late now, Tashi and Art’s voices carrying quietly from their bedroom, and he knows he won’t sleep. He couldn’t sleep anymore because he was happy, and he’d become accustomed to only dropping from sheer exhaustion. From a brain shutting down purely because it couldn’t withstand consciousness anymore. He feels like a child awoken from a nightmare when he knocks at their door, blanket draped over his shoulder, twiddling his thumbs, asking if he can sleep in their room. He insists it’s just for the night, they insist they wouldn’t mind if it was for longer than that. He tucks himself between the two of them as carefully as he can, avoiding Tashi’s knee at all costs, though he knows it’s years past being healed. They don’t do anything but touch him, a natural press from lack of space, warm breath to goosebump prickled skin, and he has to force himself not to cry, laugh, moan. He just closes his eyes and lets himself melt. He thinks if he lets his eyes close long enough, melt enough, he’ll fuse into them. Maybe that’s what he needs.

[izanna]

Just wanna point a thing I noticed out

On Reddit I made a post celebrating Gwyn and appreciating her, holding space for her fans because I saw some complaints about how all elriels ever do is put Elain on a pedestal.

Well I held space for Gwyn, only one person came to comment “see you tomorrow shadowsinger.” And that hurt my heart for the character tbh. So I’m going to continue to hold space for Gwyn love.

I won’t delete criticism, however absolute intolerance for rude people, if you would like to discuss something politely please feel free to but remember this is a post for Gwyn Love. I’d rather see people put this energy into saying their favorite things about Gwyn.

(After criticism in comments I took a part of this out because it was a backhanded way to insult Gwyn fans for not loving her in a way I deemed right so I corrected myself, it’s of course up to the individual how they love a character, I just hope people also love her for more than a ship at the end of the day. Because I do stand by that criticism: Gwyn is more than a ship. )

As miss bedara said “our stories are worth telling.” And her story is not just related to shipping. The ship wars have taken her captive and made everyone forget what an amazing character she is.

I’m leaving some Gwyn quotes below 👇🏼 to appreciate Gwyn on here too.

“I have been broken once before,” Gwyn said, her voice clear. “I survived it. And I will not be broken again—not even by this mountain.” (This is my absolute favorite line)

“I’ve been here for nearly two years, but I haven’t become so disconnected from others that I can’t tell when someone remembers why I am here and alters their behavior.” Gwyn’s mouth flattened to a line. “I don’t need to be coddled. Only spoken to like a person.”

^ I think Elain and Gwyn would be best friends tbh

“Now we’re going to work on focused breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Do ten of them, then start over. If a thought pops up, acknowledge it, then send it on its way. Tell yourself, I am the rock against which the surf crashes. Your thoughts are the surf. Let them crash over you.”

“The Illyrians are going to be furious about our winning, you know. Especially because I have no intention of being called Carynthian. I’m content with being a Valkyrie.”

”I don’t want to take the safe road.” She pointed to the mountain, to the slender path upward. “I want to take that road.” Her voice thickened. “I want to take the road that no one dares travel, and I want to travel it with you two.”

If you have anymore you’d like to add feel free to.

[mangionebabymama]

hey there! it’s “lulu feels too hard” anon back with another mini rant (not really a rant, more like an observation haha)

It’s in the same vein of him feeling emotions hard, but i think one thing that needs to be emphasized in this dynamic is how much he’s tried to subdue his emotions – and i don’t just mean recently. in many clips from his prep school days, like when he’s getting an award for example, you can see him smiling like a bit, but then cutting back to this neutral expression. Funny enough, it’s his eyebrows that always give him away loool. It’s similar to how he acts in the court hearing, full of expression, but then immediately goes back to a stoic, neutral expression. There’s even moments like this in some of the clips from Hawaii.

I guess my point is, how much was he taught to mask his emotions, and put up a front. It seems to me that he was brought up in a collective environment where the saying goes “always put your best foot forward, regardless of the circumstance”. I can understand this, coming from a family with similar values of “you represent the family name, your success is our success.”

i think though, that this seems to be what makes lulu resonate with so many of us: he’s empathetic, despite trying to be stoic. There’s a duality about him – the confident Ivy League scholar and the vulnerable, empathetic people pleasing boy who seeks affirmation one way or another.

but I think under this guise of putting your best foot forward, combined with a sense of always showing your masculinity that many guys of that age are pressured to do (and let’s not forget that for most of his schooling he attended an all boys school so there is that sort of “our boys” culture that’s pervasive in these realms), he had to hide the other part of him which felt so deeply, so hard.

it reminds me of one of his Reddit posts talking about his issues with Brain Fog, and how he initially never thought to talk about it with his friends, and instead masked it under this idea of “oh well, marks don’t matter for computer science majors” even though he was hurting and feeling so disappointed in himself to the point of contemplating dropping out. But the part that sticks out to me the most is what he said after in the post about even if you do end up telling them, if you wait too long, it’s almost like they won’t believe you (or something along those lines). And idk, that’s just such a heartbreaking way to think and it makes me sad for him. He internalized so much it seems. And truthfully, I’m not blaming anyone in his circle (family/friends) because I think part of it was also lulu never wanting to seem weak, which unfortunately clouded his vision of seeing that there were people who probably may have wanted to help. It’s just an all around sad circumstance :(

Sorry for the long write up, don’t feel like you need to provide a long response too! (haha i guess in some ways, i relate to lulu too :)

No, no, please don’t apologize for writing this, you captured this so well! 🥺 I wish I had more to add on, but you literally took all the words out of mine and emphasized on this beautifully.

I also think there’s that duality of having an internal vs. external struggle, where he could easily show and offer empathy towards others like it was nothing, but when it came to himself, it was a completely different story to extend grace. I know he had to internalize a lot, and the physical exertion of carrying all that weight on him had to have shown. I remember somebody mentioning how when he’s in deep thought in some photos, you see all the lines on his forehead—and there’s a lot of them, and once you notice them all crinkled, you’ll never not look at them in other photos. So, he literally has/had so much on his mind.

Reading that part of about his brain fog, about the irony of opening up too soon to your friends, fucked me up, to be truthful. I similarity dealt with this about two years ago, when I experienced two close familial deaths within a month before I started my senior year of college, and I was grieving hard. So many people that I know looked at me and considering my bereavement with the “strong Black woman” trope because I do have a strong personality, and I’ve experienced a lot of hardship in my life, so some felt like that I was gonna be alright, regardless, and kind of brushed off my grief like, “Oh, she’ll be alright, you’ve always managed to go through things” but no, lol. It’s the reality that I think, that many of the “strongest” friends in the group more often than not, face, surprisingly, contrary to belief—it happens all the time. When you’re commended to be a strong, resilient person, people don’t consider you to be weak, as in, you can’t persevere through struggles, but if you do, you’ll be fine, and the suffering won’t take much of an effect on you. But, like anyone else in this world, it still hurts, and it’s still acceptable to just give yourself the space to say that it sucks, and it hurts to be hurting. It’s sort of like, you have that universal perception of what it means to be hurt, but you can’t express that you’re hurt in the same breath.

[baffledandbewildered]

“Evi4 - can you kill me with the mace at some point?” Betty asks.

“Yes!” Evi says immediately.

It’s been an eventful week - few weeks, honestly - and - well. 

Betty’s been scared of the mace for a while now… it’s a terrifying weapon, and whenever Evi’s used it before she’s always skittered back, all nervous laughter and shaking hands - she remembers that weapon crashing against her helmet, Chips yelling at her to run, be afraid -

And she has been. It’s been months and honestly - she’s sick of it. Especially after what Chips said to her the other day, after Nara - Betty knows Chips is hurting, that they probably didn’t mean what they said, she understands that, she’s not mad - well. She is. A little. The feeling will fade with time, she knows, but for now…

“I want to know what it feels like,” Betty explains. It’s true, but also - I want to stop being afraid.

Evi giggles. “I understand!” And he probably does, even the stuff Betty isn’t saying out loud. He’s always been good at that.

“Should we - now?”

“Yes yes yes yes!”

To make room in her e-chest, Betty hands Evi one of her shulkers - it’s a far cry from where they were a few months ago, when anything left in the vicinity of Evi4 had to be carefully watched for fear of theft - it’s nice, to be able to know that Evi won’t take anything from her without it first being offered. It’s nice to trust.

Evi suggests setting her spawn here - Betty, once again, refuses - her spawnpoint isn’t too far away, and while it’s not the most secure it’s still better than, well - spawn itself. But Evi doesn’t take the refusal personally - Evi knows where her spawnpoint is currently, and really that probably says enough about how far they’ve come as a relationship.

Then she removes her armour, e-chests her gear, and Evi builds a short tower into the sky -

“Ready?”

“Yep!”

There’s not even time for the sound of their laughter to fade before the mace is crashing against her head and she’s gone, respawning in the deepslate box - she really needs to change her spawn point. 

Wow. That was - something. But not as terrifying as she expected - if anything, the tightness in her chest is from laughter. She picks up her communicator, still giggling - Evi’s complaining about how far away she is as she starts putting her armour back on.

Yeah. That wasn’t scary at all - it hurt, sure, but all deaths do and she doesn’t mind that so much - especially when it’s Evi, that’s…

“I’m kind of scared you’re going to kill me,” Betty had said, long long ago, when she was still alone and scared and felt she had no one to turn to.

And Evi had stopped her pacing of spawn, sword disappearing from her hand in less than a second. There’s not much Evi took seriously, or so Betty had thought at the time, but she looked… concerned, before her face brightened.

“I would never hurt a BettyisBaffled!” Evi4 said, grinning, dancing forward into her personal space a little.

“Oh!” Betty said. “Really? I - uh. Thank you?”

She hadn't believed it then. It took a while, multiple murder attempts on the people around her but never coming close to touching her before she realised Evi was telling the truth.

She’s still not sure why.

And then they became allies and then they became more and this time Betty offered her life - “You can kill me! I don’t mind -” … I kinda want you to.

(Yeah, Betty’s a little weird about the. Dying thing.)

And then one thing had led to another to another, to murder plots and engagement and secrets shared, and all that led to today.

The mace feels… like the same sort of power of a lightning strike, inescapable, deadly. A force of nature. Not necessarily bad, not necessarily good.

Not something to be unreasonably scared of, and she giggles again. Wow.

She digs her way out of the room, through the tiny box in the wall Evi made himself so he could watch Betty and Nara kill each other - there’s still some of her and Nara’s blood on the floor, she notes - she really needs to change her spawnpoint, she keeps meaning to, Nara and Aster keep reminding her to and she keeps forgetting.

Then she flies back to spawn. Evi’s been rambling in her communicator the whole time, and when Betty lands in front of them they’re beaming at the sight of her - gods, Betty is so lucky. 

This is her fiance - the label makes her a little giddy. “Hiii - I love you by the way,” she says breathlessly, and Evi buries his face in his hands - she can see the blush on his cheeks and it makes her giggle, lean up to kiss him on the forehead before turning to the chest beside them.

Betty grabs the rest of her stuff she wasn’t able to fit in a shulker, then -

“Oh, can I have the heart back?” she says.

“Yes!”

Evi jumps up from the shulker box they’d been sitting on - they’re so much taller than her damn - then they’re leaning down to kiss her, and that’s hardly unusual but what has her gasping is the feel of the heart passing between their lips, travelling down her throat and settling along her collarbone with only the slightest flicker of pain as it joins the others.

She laughs. Wow. Wow.

Her fiance. Yep.

“I love you,” Evi says shyly, and Betty echoes it immediately, beaming.

Evi presses another kiss to her forehead, then is pacing spawn again - “Wait -” they say, spinning back to her. “Let me try to mace you again it won’t kill you I promise -”

Betty laughs. “Okay! With the armour?”

Evi nods rapidly, once again climbing the carpet tower. “Heartcount test!” Evi yells, giggling, then jumps -

Betty respawns in the deepslate box again. “What the fuck oh my god how were you on full health how did you die -” Evi4’s saying through her communicator, and Betty can’t stop laughing.

[nothoughtsjustfic]

Poor, Unfortunate Soul - C.HS

🐚Who: Chwe Hansol (Seventeen) x female reader 🐚What: Fantasy au. Tentacle monster/sea witch Hansol. Mermaid princess reader. Inspired by The Little Mermaid. 🐚Word count: 3.1k 🐚Warnings: Morally dark character. Trickery. 🐚Summary: “Ever since you can remember, you’ve wanted to know everything you can about humans, wanted to know what it is like to walk alongside them. But you cannot physically do that. Lucky for you, you’ve heard talk of a sea witch who might just be able to help you. At least, you hope so.”

Masterlist

A/N- This is part of the dark fairy tales collab I’m hosting called Once Upon a Time! There will be many exciting fics to come so check out the masterlist for it to see what’s coming soon!

Thank you to darling @ddeonghwa-s for inspiring this idea by sending gif of Ursula when I said tentacle monster Hansol, it was the prompt I didn’t know I needed until I had it and now it will never leave my mind.

Humans have always intrigued you.

Ever since you were little, you’ve loved peering at them from behind rocks, hidden safely out of their line of vision to watch them with utter fascination.

Something about these creatures lures you in, makes you want to get closer and closer. Makes you want to befriend the interesting beings and walk alongside them.

Though there is a very big problem with that. An issue that you can’t simply flick your tail fin and fix. In fact, it’s the tail itself that is the issue.

You were born to the seas; with a beautiful, strong tail below your waist, not the two legs you yearn for to join your precious humans on their land, breathing nothing but the fresh air your gills aren’t designed to filter.

But you’ve heard talk of a witch who lives in the depths, hides in the dark of the caves and grants wishes to those brave enough to seek him out.

You know it’s risky, you know he will ask for something in return, but you think anything is worth even just one chance to be with your humans.

“Hello?” You call out tentatively as you hover by the entrance of the sea witch’s cave, still in the light filtering down from the surface far above, but you know the moment you enter that cave all light will cease to exist. Even now, hovering at the edge looking in, it’s as if even the light is afraid to reach past the threshold.

A part of you wants to turn back, wants to turn tail and swim as far and fast as you can. Yet a much bigger part of you yearns to step one of those strange human limbs onto dry sand, so you remain.

A voice echoes eerily from somewhere deep within the cage, somehow sounding so clear despite how deep he must be. “If you wish to do business with me, you need to come in.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, disappointed, but not truly surprised that the witch won’t come to meet you. You’ve heard he rarely leaves his shadows behind.

After taking a deep breath to full your chest with bravery you’re not entirely feeling, you swim into the cave.

“Where are you?” You call after timidly swimming forward almost blindly as you travel further and further into the cave with both arms out, one at your side so that your fingers can run along the rough cave wall to help guide you in the pitch black and the other in front so that you can feel anything that may appear in front of you.

“Keep coming, you’ll know when you’re here,” the witch chuckles, sounding like he’s right next to you yet so far away at the same time.

Seconds, or minutes, later, you realise that something is changing around you; the pressure in the water is a little different, a little heavier, as if full of magic you’ve never felt before.

Instinctively, you slow down until you come to a complete stop and remain in place, left hand flat against the cave wall and the other gripping the shell pendant around your neck for comfort.

“Well, well, well, what’s our dear King’s sweet, youngest daughter doing in my cave?” He teases as you blink around, trying to will your eyes to adjust to the lack of light and find the man, wherever he may be.

You think he may be right behind you, but every time you try to detect him with your hearing alone, it seems as if he changes location from one syllable to the next due to the cave walls echoing his voice eerily.

“I hear you can grant wishes,” you respond, trying to sound strong and unafraid, but the almost condescending little chuckle he lets out makes it clear that he knows the truth.

“Not wishes, princess, I make deals. One thing for another.” Something brushes over your cheek; it feels smooth until it turns, and you feel a bump, but it’s gone before you can really understand what it is. “Whatever you want mustn’t have monetary value for you to come to me instead of your father to have him simply buy it for you. Or bully his subjects into handing it over.”

“My father is no bully!” You defend indignantly, turning to scowl into the darkness.

The witch laughs darkly. “You only see what you want to see, princess.”

“If that were true, I’d be able to see you right now.”

“You don’t want to see me, trust me.”

“I’m not the in the habit of trusting men I can’t see the eyes of.”

“You want to see my eyes, huh?”

It’s barely a second, only a blink, before directly in front of you, a pair of eyes appear like none you have ever seen before. The eyes have no whites, only a thin ring of a sickly yellow around the edges, the rest are entirely black.

A fearful shiver runs down your spine and the man laughs, eyes squinting slightly as his invisible expression morphs with his mirth. “Trust me yet?” He mocks and vanishes from your sight with a blink of his own eyes, melding back into the darkness enveloping you both. “What do you wish for, princess?” He continues on, giving you no chance to answer his first question.

“For human legs.”

There’s a strange pause, as if the witch is genuinely stunned by your confession before he speaks with an edge of curiosity to his words. “Human legs? Why would you want such a thing? You have the most beautiful tail I’ve seen on any merfolk, which says a lot because I’ve seen an awful lot of merfolk in my time.”

You’re used to compliments on your appearance, your richly coloured tail, yet something about the way the witch speaks his words makes your cheeks warm with a shy blush. “Thank you,” you whisper and divert your gaze downwards, even if you still have no idea where exactly he is to even attempt to make eye contact in the first place.

“You’re welcome. So, why human legs?”

“I want to go on land and walk alongside the humans.”

The witch bursts into laughter as if what you’ve said is truly the funniest thing he’s heard in a long time. “Oh, princess!” He wails. “That’s rich, really.”

“I’m being serious! They’ve always fascinated me, so I’d like even just once chance to be amongst them, see them up close and learn more of their lives and culture than I ever can from the seas.”

“Huh, I see.” He makes a considering noise. “It’s a big ask, changing your physiology like that, I’d also have to remove your gills and give you humans lungs or else you’d barely make it on land before suffocating.”

“Well if you can’t do it-”

“Hey!” He interrupts firmly. “I never said that; I just said it’s a big ask so it will have a high price. Are you willing to pay the price, princess?”

“Yes,” you don’t even hesitate in answering.

You’re so confident that he can’t help but laugh shortly, just a quick, little exhale of amusement, before talking. “That’s a lot of confidence for a princess who doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into.”

“I would do anything to have the chance to be amongst humans just once.”

“Anything, huh?”

“Anything,” you agree with a nod and finally remove your hand from the cave wall to let it fall to your side as you turn so that your back is to the rough stone.

For a moment, there is nothing but silence, not even the sound of the water naturally moving, it is so still that you feel like you’re suddenly not a part of your own body, like you are just an untethered consciousness floating in the endless abyss.

“Alright,” the witch replies and suddenly, the water starts to move gently again, bringing you back to yourself.

You let out a shaky, little breath and wonder if that was the witch using his magic on you. It makes fear spike in your chest at the thought of how much worse it may feel to have him cast a spell to allow you on land; you aren’t sure you can handle it, yet still, you persist.

“I know exactly what I want from you, princess,” he informs.

“And what is that?”

“Do you care? You agreed to anything.”

“I still would like to know.”

He makes a thoughtful noise before those eyes appear in front of you again, though this time you can see something beginning to glow just below them. His intense gaze remains unblinking on you even as the light grows brighter and brighter, until you can see the conch he is whispering into; a soft, eerie, echo that you can’t make sense of.

Not that you have the mental ability to try to decipher his quiet words, not when, for the first time, you can see the man in front of you, not in his entirety but enough that your heart skips a few beats.

The man is truly gorgeous; his features are strong and skin pale and perfect, framed by smooth, silver hair, which any of your merfolk brethren would enviously yearn to have on their own heads should they see it.

Though his beauty is what initially catches your attention, once the glow of the shell lights more than just his face and neck, you can see movement behind him. At first, you think there is another creature there, perhaps one of the pet eels you’ve heard he keeps, yet when you look over, you realise the dark length to not be a separate being but part of him.

Your wide eyes slide down his bare chest until they meet the barely visible dark smears along his taut stomach. As the light grows brighter still, your heart stutters for an entirely new reason.

This witch is not merfolk nor siren, he is not any sea dweller you have seen before, nor heard of living to this day. You don’t even know the correct term for what he is; his species is so old, so ancient that the true knowledge was lost centuries ago.

Even your father, at close to three centuries of age, has never met a being like this witch; a being with not a tail like all other higher sea dwellers, but tentacles.

“What are you?” You whisper, voice coming out unsteadily as you slowly remove your gaze from the writhing mass of dark appendages and to meet equally as dark eyes glued to you and reflecting the glow of the conch.

The witch whispers for a few seconds longer before lowering the still glowing shell enough to reveal his amused smirk. “Scared, princess?”

“No,” it’s not a complete lie, but not the real truth either and he knows it. The way he laughs, revealing sharper-than-normal teeth in his mouth, confirms it.

“Whatever you say, princess. Still want to do this?” He lifts the shell a little and raises a questioning eyebrow at you.

“Yes.”

“Alright, then say your name into the shell and the deal will be struck, there’s no going back though, so be certain.”

“You still haven’t told me what you want,” you remind, refusing to lean towards the shell, even when he turns the opening to you, the same place he had whispered the spell into.

“Your voice,” he answers simply.

“My voice?” You ask confused. “Why do you want that, out of everything?”

“What, can’t a man want the voice of beautiful woman to keep him company?” He goads shamelessly, smirking when you shyly look away. “Are you always this easy to fluster, princess, or am I special?”

“Will it be permanent? My loss of voice?” You ask, avoiding his question entirely because you don’t want to tell him the truth; that he is the only being who has flustered you in some time.

“No, I’ll return it to you when you return back to the sea after visiting the humans.”

“Do I have a specific time frame to be on land?”

“Until the following sunup after your human legs are fully in place, which will only happen when you’re entirely dry on land. The gills will leave as soon as you’re completely out of the water though, so bear that in mind,”  he warns, then taps a finger on the shell. “Come on, princess, I don’t have all day, I’ve got things to do.”

“It’s a little unfair,” you comment as you reach up to carefully accept the shell from his hands.

“What is?”

“You clearly know who I am and even if you didn’t, you will know my name in a moment, yet I don’t know yours.”

“You haven’t asked.”

“What’s your name?” Your immediate question makes him laugh softly, eyes crinkling ever so slightly and somehow, you think he grows even more mesmerising.

“It’s Hansol, my name is Hansol.”

“I’m-” you start to reply, to politely offer your own name in response but he puts one hand over yours on one side of the shell to guide it closer to your mouth.

“In here, princess,” he reminds and taps the back of your hand softly with his index finger without removing his hand from on top of yours.

When Hansol leads the shell until it gently touches your lips, you expect him to remove his hand, yet his free one lifts to cover your other hand on the opposite side of the shell and for a second, you forget what you’re supposed to be doing.

Upon registering the cool of the shell against your skin, a few intense moments of simmering eye contact later, you focus on the conch instead of the witch, to whisper your name into the crevice.

As the spell is cast, you feel a low heat spread through your body, warming you within your very veins, from the tips of your fingers below his palms, to the end of your tail and back again. For those seconds of muted heat, you feel connected to the witch, like you are being tied together at the very centre of you, then it passes.

An ache blooms in your throat and rapidly grows into sharp pain that makes you gasp and instinctively attempt to move away, yet Hansol curls his fingers around your hands to press your touch firmer to the shell.

The witch leans forward, edges a little closer to you. “Shh, it’s okay, it’ll be over in a second,” he soothes and gently brushes his thumb against your skin.

Just as he assured, the pain only lasts a fraction longer before dissipating with a sensation like a pop in your throat.

Hansol watches intently until he’s satisfied the deal is struck securely, then he lowers the shell and eyes your parted lips. “Try to talk.”

You do; you open and close your mouth, will words to tumble past, yet not a single sound escapes.

The way Hansol’s lips twitch up in a satisfied grin makes something twist acidly in your stomach, something you don’t like the feeling of.

“Perfect,” he approves before taking the shell from your hands. “It’s done, there’s no going back; your tail will turn to human legs when you go on land.”

You light up and put a hand to his arm in silent thanks before making an attempt to leave.

Though something stops you; you barely make it out of the shell’s gradually dimming light before you feel a tug within you, like there is an invisible rope tied securely around your insides and preventing you from going further.

Utterly bewildered, you turn to look questioningly at Hansol where he’s still smiling, sharp teeth on display and dark eyes shining in the decreasing light.

“Aw, princess, you’re so cute when you’re confused,” he coos and lifts one hand from the conch to beckon you over with two quick curls of a single finger.

You don’t want to approach, you want to get your answers and leave, yet that rope tugs hard enough to hurt, rendering you incapable of not following the silent order.

“Oh, princess,” Hansol breathes out when you’re in front of him, close enough that he can reach out and brush the backs of his fingers over your cheek so lightly you barely feel it. A shiver runs down your spine all the same. “Did you really think I’d let you go after having you in my home and seeing your beauty so closely?”

Your eyes dart down to the seashell in his left hand then back up at him incredulously, hoping he understand your silent demand for explanation.

“Mm, the spell is in place, I didn’t lie about that; you will gain human legs once dry on land and all that, I’m a man of my word.”

The assurance means nothing when you can’t leave, and he must be able to read it on your face. You wonder if you are truly so simple to read that this man understands you so easily in such a short time, or if it is his magic at play.

Hansol chuckles and lifts the shell a little. “Our deal is kept in here, so are the terms of said deal; something you really should’ve listened to before agreeing, princess. I should be flattered that you trusted me so easily to take my word for it and not ask more questions. Either that or you’re all beauty, no brains. Sad for you, not for me, because now, thanks to your oversight, you’re tied to me. You, sweet princess are mine until the day I see fit to take you to the surface.”

Horror pools in your throat, spills down into your stomach and makes you feel sick as his words settle; the enormity of your mistake lands in your heart and causes it to crack open painfully in your chest.

“And how long will that be I hear you not asking because I own your pretty voice,” he taunts, then pretends to think, humming as his eyes roam your body up and down.

You can no longer see the full expanse of him, not with how little of the light remains, but he doesn’t have the same issue, clearly seeing your figure in the almost extinguished light and pleased by what he sees based on his smirk of approval.

“I think a few centuries might just about satisfy me,” he decides as a tentacle wraps possessively around your stomach, suctioning to your skin and marking a claim on you that is visible only to his eyes, it’s not anyone else will see you for a long time, after all.

The light from the conch flickers out, yet you can still see Hansol’s eyes as they lift back up to meet your terrified gaze.

“Oh, I’m looking forward to showing you exactly what I am, princess.”

In a blink of your own eyes, Hansol’s vanish, along with his touch on you, leaving you in the dark feeling entirely alone, even if you know he’s watching you.

That he’ll always be watching you.

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