#does this count as a drabble?

[nightlilly0110]

Running list of theories in Dunwall Tower as to who “the mystery twink” is, as created by The Watch:

Someone from Pandyssia (and it turns out Pandyssians are just Like That)

Sister of the Oracular Order with the gift of prophecy that’s disguised as a man and that’s why “he’s” Like That

Sister of the Oracular Order with the gift of prophecy that transitioned into a man and that’s why he’s Like That

Some guy who got in here somehow and no one knows how to get him to leave

A prostitute that’s somehow secured a government position (seriously what does this guy even do other than annoy people and look pretty)

The actual Royal Spymaster (“Lord Corvo is the Spymaster.” “That’s just what they want you to think.”)

A dog taken human form

A curse placed upon Lord Corvo specifically

A curse placed upon Sokolov specifically (most likely by Piero)

A ghost

An actual noble from Tyvia like Lord Corvo said he was (unlikely)

Another of Lord Corvo’s bastard kids (not to insinuate that Empress Emily The Wise, First of Her Name, is in any way a bastard)

Wyman (has anyone seen them in the same room together, honestly)

Collective hallucination caused by the remnants of the plague

The Empress’ boytoy (this is just Wyman again)

Lord Corvo’s boytoy (“It’s not a theory if they’re actually sleeping together.” “Which just means my theory is correct.”)

Brigmore witch???? Maybe????

Masked Felon???? Maybe????

The Outsider (“Are you fucking stupid?”)

[kakushino]

Haganezuka's apprentice - Fem!Reader

You'd heard about his temper, or rather, you heard his temper, long before you first saw him. The need for new swordsmiths went beyond personal wants and so, you found yourself as one of the would-be apprentices under masters of their trade. Your master though? Haganezuka Hotaru

Since you would be entering the Swordsmiths' village proper, as a citizen and not a visitor, you had received your own hyottoko mask, as ugly as the rest of them, yet crucial for its anonymity. You were grateful to it though, because it hid your scowl during your first few weeks under Master Haganezuka's dubious tutelage.

"Not like that, you stupid shithead!"

"This is shoddy as hell. Again."

"Useless brat."

"If Kamado got a sword like this, he'd be coming back for another in a day."

It was all you could do to not blow up on him. As it was, you just shut your mouth and tried to keep up. You weren't even sure if he knew you weren't a man; after all, the masks did distort even voices.

You understood though, really. He was forbidden from touching the forge until he healed up and just tried to focus his energy on you, but he went about it completely wrong. 

Every insult and snide comment fueled your wrath. It was time to show him what you were made of, what you learned and what you could do. 

With bandage-covered hands from the blisters and rawness of overworking, you did what you did best as of late - forge.

The day you presented your first 'passable' wakizashi (passable for him, very good for others) was the day his comment felt less offensive and more… like a compliment?

"Hmpf, guess you aren't that incompetent, brat."

With time, the heat of his words went out of the window, his vulgarity dwindling as you improved in leaps and bounds. Despite his harshness and unpolished way of teaching, you'd become a swordsmith who could stand on her own two feet. Your apprenticeship would last for years more though, giving you plenty of time to really get to know your master.

"You didn't buy yourself any dango? Idiot. Here, take one. Don't tell a soul or you're dead."

"Here… What do you think it is? I didn't know you were so stupid you couldn't recognize tea. You like this type, don't you? So shut up and take it."

"Tsk. Brat. As if you could distract me from my- is that Gyomaru's dango? Hand it over."

Haganezuka Hotaru was just abrasive on the outside, but a big softie on the inside. 

A big softie who couldn't take care of himself properly at times. 

"Master Haganezuka, you need to eat. You've been in here for over a day." You cautiously touched his shoulder, hoping beyond hope he would snap out of the Zone. You'd brought dango and tea, hoping to entice him with the smell at first. It wasn't working, obviously.

He said nothing, just continued to hammer away at his latest work. 

“Master Haganezuka?” you shook his shoulder a little, making him pause for a moment before he continued. Your patience wore thin. You scowled. You’d be surprised if the ugly expression wasn’t permanently fixed into your face with how often you wore it when dealing with him. 

Maybe taking off his mask would make him pay attention to me?

Spoiler alert: It did not.

But it did make your face feel hot when you saw how handsome he was under it. A few shiny scars from the not-so-recent village attack still stood out against his pale skin, making him even more attractive.

Sweat made his dark hair stick to his skin, and suddenly, you were curious about the whole picture; you untied his scarf - it wasn’t like he was going to un-Zone anytime soon, you reasoned. You were not ready for the dark wavy tresses spilling over his shoulders. It was not fair how much of a looker he was. Was this man really single?

You continued to study him, memorizing his features for long lonely nights in your accommodation. Soon enough, you realized you were being a creep and should stop at once; you needed to finish what you started after all.

“Master Haganezuka!” you reached for his other shoulder to shake it. What you didn’t account for was the fact it was his blind side. Instead of an insult or even a scathing remark, you were nearly slashed with a red-hot blade in the face. You took a quick step back and it thankfully only knocked off your hyottoko mask to the ground, the wood smoking a little where the iron made contact with it. You stared at it with wide eyes, your heart in your throat and terror pulsing in your veins. “...”

“...you’re a woman?” 

Your eyes met his, both of you staring at each other in disbelief. “You didn’t know?” 

A flush rose to his cheeks, before his expression turned to white ash. “The old man is gonna kill me.”

"How did you not know I was a woman? The Chief told you when he was introducing me."

"I wasn't listening," he huffed, looking away. 

"More importantly, you just tried to kill me!" 

"Not my fault you were being stupid, brat!"

"You were being stupid. You didn't get out of here for over a day! You have to eat! And sleep!"

"Sleep is for the weak! I need to finish this project-" Haganezuka turned back to his bench, reaching for his hammer.

You snatched the tool before he could touch it. "No, you don't-" You high-tailed it out of his forge, clutching his favorite hammer as if your life depended on it.

"Wait-! You useless wench!"

Your master swore up a storm, hurling insults, screaming at you and chasing you with his half-finished blade. 

Kanamori even ran out into the street in his pajamas, mask askew, a katana of his own in hand, thinking there was an attack again. Seeing Haganezuka, he huffed and went back to sleep, too tired to deal with this right now.

A few days later, the Chief came to officially scold your master. You had a kick out of it, thankful your mask hid your smirk.

[jester-k4rd]

Fatherhood? Impossible!

■□■□■□■

Fatherhood was a phase unwelcome in the Great Destroyer's endless life. The mere concept of fatherhood clashes with all that he is. He is a destroyer, devoid of any tender and loving feelings, the very things that make up fatherhood.

Fatherhood is a new phase in his life—if not the only new phase in his life apart from being once the hailed Herald of Change and now the feared usurper—the Great Destroyer.

The woman he met once upon time, the woman who sought his knowledge, was barely to be found. She was still present, however, she had matured. All because of this little spawn that belonged to none other than him.

However, despite having matured, it was clear she, too, struggled with motherhood having stepped so suddenly into her life. An invasion initially unwelcome but now... unsure.

Both parents struggled with what is now presented before them. Something which they must (forcefully) accept and it seems as if the mother has taken that first step forward. Whether Burning Spice truly wishes to do so or not, remains to be seen. However, should he not, it comes at the price of his little lamb.

■□■□■□■

I got bored and did something.

[letterstoear]

Picking you up from Sam’s shop at 2am for no apparent reason

Synopsis: What happens when he picks you up from Sam’s shop?

Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia | Bonus characters |

Notes: Character x gn reader, short drabbles, twisted wonderland, can be read as lovers or friends,

Also please be sure to check out my shop: Shop — Letters to Ear (squarespace.com)

🌹Gets one text from you that’s sent on accident that you’re at Sam’s shop and now he’s on his way. 

🌹When he arrives, he’s not surprised to see you out late outside of the dorm, but he does drag you away.

🌹Lectures you about how neglecting your sleep will cause you to develop bad habits

🌹Eventually gets you talking about why you were there at night on your way back to your room

🌹Once you enter your dorm room the two of you are so tired you two end up sleeping like little sheep together 

❤️Say less, he’s there and he may or may not bring Deuce alongside with him

❤️Just there to have fun, late night talking and for the snacks, all on you of course

❤️Okay well he might pay for some, if you’re lucky, but probably only for his own 

❤️Doesn’t ask you why you’re there, to Ace he’s only to talk about it you want to 

❤️However, he will tell you not to do this again without him being there

❤️The two of you end up sleeping outside of Sam’s shack, but Sam brings you two in because he can’t leave you two outside, bad for business

❤️Hides you two in a freezer or something

♠️ Doesn’t Walk but runs to where you’re at

♠ He’s worried your down in the dumps about life 

♠ Those late-night thoughts be hitting you like an iseaki truck, at least in his mind

♠ Imagine the look of shock on his face when he sees that you’re just in need of some help for carrying your late-night snacks

♠ On the way back the two of you eventually chat while sharing some sort of handheld snack 

♠ Once you arrive back at the dorm, your dorm leader rises from the ashes to scold you

♠️Deuce survives the night because Riddle is like a plank of wood once his head hits the bed 

🔶Bestie what were you thinking, going out late and not inviting Cater? 

🔶I actually think he would be grumpy about it at first 

🔶Has to think about it for a good five minutes before he decides to go

🔶Get ready to meet up with you, but by the time he gets there you’re already asleep

🔶Homeboy takes way too much time to get ready 

🔶Doesn’t carry you back home or anything, just goes back to his dorm

🔶Probably leaves a sticky note on your head, after taking a photo of you 

♣️ Rushes over to you

♣️ Concerned and curious 

♣️ Why would you go out late at night? Were you hungry, had you missed dinner? Were you depressed? 

♣️ Once he arrives, he’s picking you up to talk about the reason you had been there at the first place

♣️ Depending on the reason he might scold you, but would probably try to reason with you

[hard-deck-confessions]

Maybe, Dad

Bradley didn’t really remember his dad, but he’d always felt like he did. Sometimes he wished he didn’t. Maybe if he didn’t feel like he knew him so well, he’d have missed him less. But then maybe he wouldn’t have had the same dedication to making him proud of the son he never got to see grow up. Maybe if his mom hadn’t played his father’s favorite records every weekend as she danced round the living room, pulling him along playfully by his little hands, he wouldn’t feel an ache in his chest every time a familiar tune came over the radio. But then maybe he wouldn’t have spent so much time practicing piano so he could do Great Balls of Fire the justice it deserved. Maybe if there weren’t photos of Goose all over the house—framed on the walls, stuck to the fridge with old magnets he sent home from every new station, or in worn photo albums sat on the coffee table—he wouldn’t have cried the first time he looked in the mirror and saw his father. But then maybe he wouldn’t have known that they shared a love of bold patterns and Hawaiian shirts. Maybe if Mav hadn’t come over for dinner every week and laughed with his mother as they recounted old stories and Goose’s favorite jokes, he wouldn’t have longed to have him back so badly. But then maybe he wouldn’t have known how cool his dad was or gotten his sense of humor. Maybe if his mom hadn’t taken him to see Mav fly, he would have never dreamed of following in his dad’s footsteps and broken her heart. But then maybe he never would have felt like he was where he truly belonged. Maybe if Bradley didn’t know his dad so well, he never would have become Rooster and he never would have lost touch with Mav. But then maybe he wouldn’t be the man he is today.

- Hazard

[fluffypotatey]

Knowing them, it will be immediately obvious to absolutely everyone after they fucked. Not just the monkey squad, but the dbk family and random mooks like the twins

“Fucking finally!”

“Sorry what?”

DBK merely raised an eyebrow, amused at….something. That didn’t bode well for Wukong. If DBK’s amused at Wukong and looked as if he were seconds close to laughing in his face, it only meant a couple of things. Well, it could mean many things since DBK had a penchant for laughing at Wukong for many reasons, but there was as something different about this time. His eyes gleamed with both relief and exhaustion.

The exhaustion, Wukong was used to. Not so much relief, though.

“You’re not exactly the most subtle when it comes to things like this.”

Okay, so now the bull demon was just fucking with him. That’s fine.

“Pot. Kettle.” Wukong narrowed his eyes and bared a smile. “Though last I checked, it took you over a month to realize Princess Iron Fan reciprocated your courting.”

“Oh, so is it official?”

Wukong was two seconds away from knocking another horn off his old brother’s head.

What the fuck is he talking about— oh…

“Oh shit.”

The hall echoed with the Demon Bull King’s responding laughter.

[rexhya]

krishima has a unrequited love playlist for you, his favorite song on there is beauty by dru hill, not only because it's a good song but because it perfectly describes his feelings for you.

you're completely out of his league, this doesn't stop him from crushing as obviously as possible.

"h-EY [Name]" his voice cracked as he waves at you in the hallways.

you almost don't notice him as you wave back, gracing him with a smile and wave. his friends crackle at his clumsy demeanor and he shushes them glancing back to see if you'd heard. but you're already on to the next thing. (walks by me everyday...)

your his dream girl, literally his dream girl. which makes it all the worse because you both have so much in common, ( her and love are the same..) one day there's a common room movie night and fortunately our unfortunately for him you decide to sit right next to him.

the movie two hours long, you fall asleep, next to him. you're drooling but he's too focused on making you as comfortable as possible to care.

most of of classmates leave, you don't of course, still snoring on his chest softly, hoping his racing heart can't be heard through your sleep. eventually he has to wake you up, but you only groan and snuggle him deeper, "m' sleepy.." ( woman that stole my heart..)

he carries you too your dorm, feeling to guilty to make you walk. except you don't let him leave, tugging on his collar to stay, delirious and happy, he does. it's the day he remembers on the altar, one he'll never forget. ( and beauty is her name...)

[tofics]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could write something about dean reacting to you getting your 🍒's pierced or him even finding out that they have been. Totally totally okay if not LOVE your work 🫶

Eeeek, my first request ever!!! 🤩 For that alone I'm inclined to make this as perfect as possible, but due to post-holiday brain-rot I can make no promises about the actual quality of what I'm about to produce. 🙈 I immediately had two ideas when I read this, so you're getting both.

Version 1 is just funny, whereas version 2 has a slight bit of angst to it, still a funny ending though. Hope you enjoy! 🤗

Warnings: nipple piercings, bare titties, exposing your 🍒's in front of strangers (willingly), some bleeding, canon typical violence (monster death)

POV: Dean finds out you got your nips pierced.

Version 1 "Sam, don't! He could be the shapeshifter, for all we know!" Dean pulled his brother back by the jacket. "A - a what?" The man in front of you stammered, his eyes blown wide in fear. You quickly hushed him. "It's okay, just get in there!" You were convinced this guy wasn't the shapeshifter. You knew it in your gut, but you knew that explanation wouldn't fly with Dean.

The four of you quickly pressed into the small bathroom. Dean had his gun pointed at the guy's throat, who was nervously eyeing the weapon. "It's okay", you assured him in a hushed whisper. "We'll get you out of here. Just give him the spoon, Sam." You nodded at the younger Winchester, who in turn started prodding his jacket. One pocket, another, then a quiet curse.

"I must've dropped it!"

You glanced at Sam in disbelief. Dean grunted, though he didn't take his eyes off of the stranger.

"Now what?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't have anything else silver on me. Do you?"

"I got lots of silver bullets," Dean growled, still clearly convinced that the poor soul trapped in this bathroom with you was the monster you were looking for. The man yelped quietly.

"Not helpful, Dean," you hissed, but the hunter just grunted.

"You got any better ideas?"

Silence filled the air as all three of you pondered over your current predicament. Then a lightbulb went off in your brain.

"I do, actually."

With swift movements, you handed your gun over to Sam and then began pulling your sweater off.

"Uh - what are you doing?" Sam stared at you like you had lost your mind and even Dean was glancing over at you as you began peeling your top upwards.

"My nipple piercings are made of silver," you explained casually. Sam's eyes grew wide while a vein popped out on Dean's temple. The man you were trying to save looked like he was trying very hard to look anywhere but at you. "If Dean's bullets are the only other silver thing we got, then I don't see any other way than this. I'm not blowing some guy's brain out just to be on the safe side," you continued.

Your top went over your head, leaving you in nothing but your bra from the waist upwards. Sam's face had a funny color and Dean looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. His eyes briefly traveled down to your exposed cleavage, then quickly flicked back up to your face. "You can't be serious," Sam cut in.

"About my nipples being pierced or the piercings being silver?"

"About letting this guy touch you."

You brushed Sam's concern off with a tut. "Oh, hush. Don't be so prude. Now, go on," you said and undid the clasp of your bra with swift fingers.

Three loud inhales sounded as you revealed your boobs to the room. Sam's eyes immediately went towards the ceiling. The stranger briefly glanced at your tits with a pained expression before following suit with Sam, mumbling something about how surely, all of this just had to be a weird dream. Dean, however, took a good long look before a smile whisked across his lips.

"When'd you get this done?" He whispered with an appreciative tone.

"Couple of months ago," you replied, smiling back at him. "You like it?"

"Like it? Sweetheart, I-"

"Guys," Sam interrupted, eyes still glued to the ceiling.

"Right, right, sorry." You reached for the man's hand who jumped when your hand touched his. "Go on, dude. Just put a hand on it so we know you're good."

The guy made no move to do much of anything, so you gently lifted his hand to your chest until it made contact with one of your piercings. "Just a dream, just a dream," the man mumbled with his head still turned upwards and away from you. "Maybe I'm a shapeshifter too," Dean mumbled, his eyes on the man's hand pressed to your boob.

You grinned in reply. "See? He's good." The man's hand showed no signs of injury as you lifted it off of your chest again. "Now how about I get dressed again and we go find the actual son-of-a-bitch?"

Version 2 Sure, people warn against getting body alterations done under the influence of alcohol all the time. It's sort of an unwritten rule, the kind of common-sense one is just expected to have. But as booze tends to do, it prefers to link up with mischief instead. Common-sense is just so boring. Such a goody-two-shoes. The nay-sayer of all genius ideas. And clearly, that's what getting your nipples pierced is: a genius fucking idea.

At least so you thought last night while out and about with Jo. The two of you had teamed up in an effort to drink your shared sorrows away: you'd just come back from yet another hunt during which you'd felt belittled by Dean yet again, and Jo was in the midst of another heated fight with Elle about being allowed out for a hunt at all - again. Each dismissal had lit the fire of injustice within the both of you, and while your first few drinks were meant to quench the flames, they had the opposite effect, acting like fuel instead.

Soon, both you and Jo were slurring your respective rambles about your 'suppressors'.

"Just isn't fair." Jo slammed her fist down on the bar top, earning herself a quick glance from the bartender.

You shook your head woefully. "It isn't. They just don't see us. It's like we're invisible. Or babies. Invisible babies."

Jo pointed her finger at you. "Exactly! Invisible babies. But we're not! We're grown women, god dammit! Women! Would babies have boobs like that?" Her finger swayed from your face to your cleavage, followed diligently by the guy who sat two seats down from you. Your chin dropped to your chest as you glanced at your own boobs before meeting the eyes of the sleazy guy two seats over. A sluggish grin crawled over your lips. "Nice, aren't they?" A toothy grin appeared on the other patron's face. "Sure are, baby, sure are," he called back, causing you to look at Jo with triumph in your eyes. "See? He agrees too. No baby would have boobs like that."

Jo nodded, her head bobbing up and down in a wobbly fashion. "Cause he sees us. Not like my mom. Or Dean." She scowled, then downed another shot the bartender had dutifully lined up for you at your signal.

"We jus' gotta find a way to show 'em," you slurred. "Way to show how badass we are. Hmm." You nodded to yourself like you'd just said the most profound thing.

A moment of silence passed between you two girls before Jo's face suddenly lit up. "I got an idea."

As genius as it had seemed to you four shots in, the next morning, you weren't so sure anymore that piercing your nipples had been a genius move. It did look amazing (one glance in the mirror in the morning after waking up confused why your nips felt so damn sore had convinced you of that easily), but you still needed some convincing about the practicality of it as you got dressed and put on your clothes for the day. It proved as your first challenge: a bra was immediately out of the question after feeling how tight the material pressed against your sensitive and raw skin. You threw on a large, comfy t-shirt instead and paired it with an even larger sweater. Oversized clothes to the rescue.

As expected, your drinking spectacle of last night didn't go unnoticed by either of the boys. Sam's "Whoa, you look rough" got quickly followed up by a dry snort from Dean at the sight of you. "Jesus, you and Jo empty half a liquor store or something?" You only grumbled something unintelligible as a response while you fixed yourself some coffee from the small breakfast spread your motel offered.

While you nursed your coffee, Dean and Sam made a plan for the day. Their mission yesterday had been a bust - the empty factory had, in fact, not been the hiding place of the shapeshifter that the three of you were after, which left it still roaming about. You didn't partake in the planning process, partially due to your hangover, but mostly due to the fact that you were still hung up on your exclusion. For your own safety. Dean's reasoning had felt like a punch in the gut. Did he still not trust your abilities?

"Hey." You were pulled back to the present by fingers snapping in front of your face. "You with us?" Dean's eyes were searching your face as you zeroed back in on him. You grunt for a response had one of his brows raising, but he didn't comment on it, instead pulling you aside when the three of you headed out towards the parking lot.

"Are you okay?" You knew that look. Dean's scrutinizing gaze roamed over your face to look for the subtlest of clues. You'd made your protest heard loud and clear yesterday, and you read the subtext in his question with ease. Are we okay? You inhaled deeply as you stalled to answer. You were still upset with him, but you didn't have it in you to discuss his views on your involvement during hunts in your current state. Your head was pounding too much, and your nipples faintly felt like someone was holding a lighter to them. "Yeah. I'm okay," you responded with a sigh. Dean looked like he was about to object, clearly not buying your answer, but just then, Sam called out for the two of you.

Genius fucking idea. You gritted your teeth as you sprinted after the shapeshifter. Of course you'd end up in action the one day you didn't wear a bra. As if chasing supernatural beings wasn't challenging enough, you were now forced to awkwardly press your arms under your boobs for support as you ran down the damp alleyway. Because of your makeshift-bra, your gun was holstered between your hands right under your tits, aiming directly forward. It wasn't a safe way to run, nor a comfortable one, but you didn't have time to ponder either of those facts. The shapeshifter was getting away, and you couldn't let that happen.

You saw it turning a corner a couple hundred feet ahead of you and dashed after it, tits squeezed together in front of your chest like they were your main weapon and not your gun. The fabric of your shirt rubbed over your freshly pierced nips like sandpaper on wood and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself focused on the monster chase instead of the pain.

When you skid around the corner, you found the shapeshifter trapped between yourself and Dean on the other end of the back alley. It's head spun back and forth between you and him like a trapped animal and for a moment, it felt like time had frozen. Your eyes briefly flicked over to Dean, whose brows were furrowed in concentration and determination, and he shook his head at you ever so slightly.

The flush of anger inside your belly was hot and instant, yet before you had time to react, a loud shriek echoed through the alleyway and the shapeshifter launched itself your way.

It all happened so quickly that you acted more out of instinct than on rational thought. The kicks and blows to your body barely registered before a gunshot rang through the air and the monster's lifeless body dropped to the ground in front of you.

You stared at it, panting. The adrenaline coursing through your veins felt like fire being pumped through your body. It took you a second to register Dean's voice through the ringing in your ears.

"Hey. Hey. You okay? Are you hurt?" Hands were gripping you by the shoulders and you were spun sideways. You blinked a couple of times as Dean came into focus in front of you, concern etched into every fine line on his face. "Talk to me," he urged as his eyes feverishly scanned you up and down. You shook your head faintly, still dazed. "I'm fine." You'd taken down the shapeshifter yourself. You'd done it. You'd kicked ass.

A slow smile spread on your face as the realization set in. You had taken down a shapeshifter all by yourself. In front of Dean, no less. Now he had to see you.

"We got it, Sammy. Yeah. It's done. Uh-huh. No, she took it out." Dean glanced over at you as the two of you walked back to his car. You were still smiling smugly ear to ear. Dean looked like he'd been forced to eat a lemon whole.

"What d'you think? Of course not." He growled into the phone. You could imagine Sam's question without having heard it. You let her come? Dean had ordered you to stay in the car of course. But then you'd seen the shapeshifter run by. Who in their right mind would've stayed in their car at the sight?

"Uh-huh. Yeah. We'll meet you back at the motel." Dean hung up. Anger radiated off of him in quiet, shaky waves. Under any other circumstance, you would've been quaking in your boots right about now, wary of the storm that was about to come your way any second now. But not today. Today, you were flying high, fueled on by your win.

Dean settled into the driver's seat, but didn't start the car. Here we go, you thought. Speech incoming. Yet it didn't come. When you turned your head to look at him, you didn't find Dean staring you down, but frowning at your chest instead.

"You're bleeding."

Your own forehead crinkled up as you looked down on yourself. Two deep red spots were starting to bloom on your chest, right where... Crap.

You quickly slung an arm over your chest, covering up the two spots. "I, uh. It's fine." Though it felt anything but. You hadn't noticed it in the moment, but the monster had apparently struck you in the chest, right across your boobs. Your fresh piercings had seemingly not appreciated that move in the least. Now that you had been made aware of it, your nipples felt like they were on fire, pain striking through each boob like a spasm.

Dean's jaw tensed. In one swift move, he leaned in and plucked your arm from your chest, exposing the bloody spots on your sweater that were slowly growing in size. You could see his frown deepening as he examined your injuries. Warmth crept up your neck and into your cheeks.

"It's not fine. What did he do? I can't see puncture wounds. Why are you bleeding?"

Whatever triumph you had felt just a moment ago had ebbed away and was now being replaced by the icky sticky feeling of shame. You turned your head so he wouldn't see the embarrassment coloring you the same color as the spots on your sweater, but Dean spoke your name in a soft, yet stern voice.

You knew he wouldn't let this go.

You sighed deeply. "I got my nipples pierced." Your voice was barely above a murmur. Heat blazed from your cheeks and pain throbbed in your wounded nips.

For the first time ever since meeting Dean Winchester, he did not hit you with a quick comeback. The lack of a snarky reply was so jarring that you looked back at him, despite the embarrassment shining bright in your cheeks like Rudolph's nose.

Dean's face seemed to be frozen in a state somewhere between surprise and amusement. You stared at him for a moment before scoffing. "Just get it out." His eyes flickered from the bloody spots on your torso to your eyes and back, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Get what out?"

"The comments. Whatever you're dying to say. I know you've got some stupid shit already cooking in that brain of yours," you scoffed, and as if on cue, mischief glinted in his eyes.

"Actually," Dean started and flung a casual arm across your seat. "I think it's kind of hot."

The lack of reprimand caught you off guard so much that you could only stare at him.

"But I am gonna need details. Was it Jo's idea? Or yours?" Dean flashed a widespread grin at you and started the car. He was clearly enjoying himself.

You could only roll your eyes and groan.

"You know, I'll have to check when we're back. See how injured you are. Patch you up," he continued, the grin now stretching so wide that it almost went from ear to ear.

"Not a chance, Winchester."

Dean only snickered in return.

Divider credit: @saradika-graphics

[opiopal]

you guys wanna know something I typically hate?? The whole “ooooo it was all a dream!!!” Trope, because I think it’s stupid. But that doesn’t mean I don’t explore it sometimes for the sake of relatability. And I can also make it make sense for obey me,

cause think: the game itself starts out on a white background and Lilith speaking to mc/the player, then we wake up in front of the future demon king, his time traveling butler, and plus six of the seven lords. That is 100% “it was just a dream” material. however my version and idea of “it was just a dream” is totally goated/j i like to think of it as a semi real thing, as in Mc lives their normal life when they’re awake, and when they fall asleep they wake up in their bed in the devildom, ready to start their day there. They can’t really tell if they’re dreaming about being in the devildom, or if they’re dreaming about being back home in the human realm. And it’s just so disorienting for them, and they begin to struggle to figure out if anything is real in general. and THAT is the version of this trope that I like, the juggle between it could or couldn’t be real.

but then I could imagine mc eventually figuring out how to live with it as they usually tend to do. Because during the “day”, they go about their life, they go to work, do college work, talk with friends and family, take care of their pet, do shopping, yk, the usual. But then they go to sleep and get to spend a whole new “day” with their weird boyfriend thingy and exist in an infinitely cooler reality. And it could possibly be interpreted in multiple different ways: mc could have just figured out how to lucid dream somehow, or they are actually just swapping between realms whenever they wake/sleep, or they could be in a weird coma thingy and their brain is going haywire, or just anything possible.

ofc though what I usually go with is that they’re just jumping between realms, that it’s just an entirely different universe to mc’s current. to feed into my own selfish desires to completely escape the real world without abandoning my loved ones ofc.

and also it could open up the world to other possibilities, cause imagine being in the “real” world and randomly seeing a guy that looks exactly like mammon in public!? Because holy crap. mc is just waiting at the train station to go home after a long day and suddenly spots the face of their Demon boyfriend of like three years but human??? Like that would be INSANE. But whatever- it’s not IMPOSSIBLE for someone to look like how mams does, it’s not like he’s some insane impossible beauty standard. It’s just pure coincidence. Right??? so mc gets on the train and oh. Okay, he’s also getting on this train and happens to sit across from them. Now mc is SERIOUSLY freaking out, because he even has the same rings on his fingers, really the only difference between the two is that this “human” mams has different clothes.

anyways, I’m just gonna cut myself off there bc I’ve realized I’ve rambled. HOWEVER that whole situation/au is something I’ve fully developed, I could honestly make a whole fic on it, but I may not lol, just depends on demand if anyone is intrigued. But anyways that’s just my ramble post for the day, cuz yuh,

[siddyyyyyyyy]

!MDNI!

Drink the Potion!

Fairy!Dick Grayson x Reader

wc: 1.6 K summary: Dick Grayson accidentally turns into a tiny fairy and you take care of him. warnings: masturbation, overstimulation, dry humping, riding

From the moment that unusal magician Villian transformed Dick into a tiny sized fairy, it was a hell of a few days trying to get along with the new change. You‘ve been trying to contact John Constantine to fix it, but it seems like he has more important things to take care of right now.

So, you have taken it into your own hands, as his usual mission partner to take care of him while he is stuck in that tiny sized form. He looks exactly the same, except that he is literally the size of your palm. Well, a little bigger than that, but still… it‘s comically small. You made sure to get him food in smaller portions, getting him a bath in your bathroom sink with drops of soap for him to use, and he can sleep wherever he wants. Of course, he settles on sleeping near you without you crushing him.

Beside the few negative aspects of the situation, it‘s actually funny seeing him fuss over certain things he can‘t do nowadays. For example, change into different clothes since he‘s been thankfully shrinked together with his suit. That‘s why he is basically stuck in it before someone can get him back into his actual size. But there is also one more thing that has changed since then.

He became way more horny. You didn‘t notice at first because he was hiding it as best as he could. Until you caught him shamelessly jerking off under your blanket. It was nighttime, and you thought he had already settled into bed and fell asleep as usual, but he proved you wrong once you opened your blanket.

There lays Dick on full display, lazily stroking his cock while locking eyes with you and grinning lightly at your shocked expression. You don‘t know why, but you weren‘t really mad at him for it. Everyone has their needs, right? And it just so happened that his needy hormones spiked up in that tiny body of his. How could anyone manage to deal with such emotions in a small form like this anyway?

And that‘s how it started. You both settled on leaving him alone during that and lending him your bedroom for it. You‘ll just need to wait until he is finished and pretend as if nothing happened. Besides, you can‘t really ignore it. Both of you. He usually makes some small jokes about it, which just turn into a small banter between the two of you and complaining about John ignoring this problem so he doesn‘t have to fix him. This goes on for a few days until he verbalises his needs to you. It turns out that simply jerking off doesn‘t do much for him anymore and he seems to need more. He isn‘t satisfied.

That only leaves to one conclusion, obviously. You are taking this problem into your own hands. Again.

It‘s not like you aren‘t good friends, so you can help him out with that too. And this is how it really started. Every evening, after patrol, you slipped into your bed and helped him out with his aching needs. Even when he fit into your palm, it still felt more intimate than any other things you‘ve ever done together.

Laying side by side, having him naked with his hands behind his neck, you carefully held his hard cock between your fingers and did your best on finding an even pace for now. The room filled with tiny whimpers and low groans from his side, managing to find a torturous pace for him. His chest heaving and cheeks flushed, he didn‘t stop you. He wanted more, wanted to see how much he could take in his overly needy state.

Hips jerking up, he finished, and smaller spurts of cum coated your fingers. It was fascinating to see such a tiny creature be pleasured to such an extend. His moans became louder, even muffled against his hand. Once he was calmed down after his first orgasm, you retreated your hand, but he quickly grabbed your finger and silently begged you to keep going. After checking in if that‘s what he really wants, you play with his cock again until he cums all over once more. Needless to say, you didn‘t stop until he literally passed out happily in your free palm, nuzzled against your thumb.

It became more of a routine for you both to lay down and please the other. Dick really wanted to please you just as much, but it wasn‘t possible with how small his hands were now. He would genuinely crawl inside you at this point and please you in that way, but he knows it‘s a weird request and just won‘t voice it, in fear you would be scared off.

Frustrated, he let you tease and overstimulate him as much as you both wanted. It was pure bliss for him. The way you delicately stroke his length in a languid pace before you switch up and set a brutal pace for him. The way his back arches up, the way his hips stutter and squirm under you— it‘s a sight to see.

Hissing noises escape from him every time you keep going even, after his high, making him sensitive and flushed. Once you stop your movements, he sighs in relief but starts bucking his hips into your fingers lazily again. He just can‘t stop. He knows he probably comes off as a needy loser like this, but he couldn‘t care less when there‘s someone willing to give him what he wants.

Every time, his brain goes to absolute mush after one of your sessions, he starts babbling on about how perfect you are, how much he wants to please and taste you. But you know it‘s not possible until someone can fix this poor guy.

He promised to get revenge on you for overstimulating him so much once he can get back to his actual size. And with him being rather tiny with those elf ears and wings on his back, it‘s generally hard to take him seriously.

Once John finally had the time to fix the siye problem, he just tossed a smaller glass bottle your way and told him to drink some drops of it. Without any further trouble, he leaves you be, and you give Dick that magical potion that should help him.

Indeed, Dick grows back into his normal size, a head taller than you again. That famous smirk plastered all over his face. Finally, he can get his so-called ‚revenge‘.

With strong hands, the now taller man picks you up and makes you wrap your legs around his waist. His lips come crashing against yours, needy for proper pleasure. He slumps back into the couch and keeps his hands splayed across your hips, savouring the taste of you.

Light groans slip from him while you lose your mind over the unexpected action, but you can‘t bring yourself to stop. You‘ve fantasised about this exact moment to happen for so long while he was stuck in his tiny body; now it‘s finally coming true.

Your lips move down from his lips to his neck, licking and tasting more at him for your own pleasure. Small gasps and moans leave his mouth while he drags your hips back and forth on his clothed cock. Your nails dig into his shoulders while the room fills with heated tension, arousal spiking from the both of you.

You let him move how he needs to, giving into his touch as you grind heavier on him. Louder groans leave him, his head tilting back. The sight of him, slightly flushed, hair messy, eyes glazed over, and panting for air, is something you commit to memory.

The friction is not enough after a while, and he rips your shorts off, hastily slipping his cock out to slip into you. With careful movements, Dick finally nestled inside of you and groans loudly once he bottoms out. Having you on his lap, all pretty and warm, is the one thing he has been craving for these past few weeks.

Once you are settled to the full feeling, you start to grind on him at first. Your clit rubs against his pelvis, making your body jerk lightly. Stilling for a moment to catch your breath, he helps you to ride him properly. As you hold onto his shoulders, you start to go up and down his length in a slow pace, just like you did when he was stuck as a fairy.

He groans painfully and nuzzles forward into your neck, bucking his hips up into you in need. You take the sign and pick up your pace, your breath picking up into short gasps.

It gets too much for you, clenching down harder and harder until you release on top of him, cunt spasming violently around him. More groans and whimpers fill the room as Dick also nears his high, unable to hold on much longer and finishes inside, loading his hot cum deep inside. After a few final thrusts, you both slump into each other and catch a moment to yourself.

His big arms wrap tightly around your tired form, whispering sweet nothings to you.

He couldn‘t even get to his revenge, too tired after the real thing and also too shy to ask if you‘d be down for him to keep going. You both end up cuddled up together in your bed, snuggled up and without a care in the world.

←MASTERLIST

[into-fiction]

Fully optional, but I could use a bit of fluff in my life if you’d be so kind, my very best angst-fluff bestie:

Galinda getting so overly flustered over something simple (an assignment, her makeup, her friends, ect.) that she accidentally hurts herself. Elphaba takes that just as seriously as whatever Galinda was upset about and talks her down from the edge while caring for her.

Please 🥺 if you have time

sorry this is late! and questionably fluffy lol. but it's angstless and sweet at least?? also its way longer than i expected, whoops

///

Elphaba opens the door to a room in chaos, the cause of it a blur of pink and gold as the tiny tornado that is Galinda spins through the room. There are clothes tossed everywhere, half of Galinda’s trunks dumped out onto the floor and creating a minefield of obstacles for Elphaba to try and pick her way around just to get to her bed. 

“Uh, Galinda?” Elphaba calls, racking her brain for what might be the reason for such disaster. 

Galinda whirls around, blonde curls in disarray and eyes wide and wild. She’s holding two different dresses in her hands, one a sparkling pink and the other a tasteful cream. 

“Elphie!” Galinda cries. She surges forward, nearly tripping over an overturned trunk as she reaches to grab Elphaba’s hands. “You have to help me, this is a disaster!” 

Elphaba lifts a pointed eyebrow and looks around at the mess. “I can see that.”

“Not the room.” Galinda shakes her head violently, hair lashing her cheeks as she tries to yank Elphaba forward. “My wardrobe! I can’t find anything to wear!”

There are stacks of clothes nearly as tall as Elphaba’s knees on the floor, clearly having been tossed out of closets, trunks, and drawers. “Have you tried asking the floor if you can borrow something of hers?” Elphaba teases, voice a fond drawl. 

Galinda whines, though, high and long. She rocks from foot to foot, shaking her head again. And again, and again. “None of these are right!” she cries, pulling her hands out of Elphaba’s and falling to her butt on the edge of her bed, a pile of blouses sliding to the floor at the disturbance. 

There’s a faint level of true distress leaking through Galinda’s expression that makes Elphaba step forward, reaching for the blonde’s hands again so she stops pulling at her fingers. “Hey,” she says, as calm and gentle as she can. “Whatever the problem is, we can fix it. What are you getting dressed for, anyway? It’s almost dinner time.”

But the reminder just seems to make Galinda panic more, and she suddenly leaps from the bed, stumbling in her heels as she brushes past Elphaba. “Shit, I’m late!” she yells, aiming for the vanity in the center of the room. 

There’s a pile of her own shoes on the floor, however, that Galinda apparently doesn’t see, the awkward shapes sliding under her feet as she trips, falling to the ground with a yelp. A muted, fleshy thump sounds out as Galinda hits the floor, just barely catching herself on her hands and knees. 

“Galinda!” Elphaba cries, carefully navigating the perilous space as she crouches by the blonde. “Are you okay?”

But Galinda is already scrambling to her feet, blinking rapidly and shoving her fallen hair out of her face. “F-fine,” she stammers, wincing when she straightens her knees. That’s going to hurt later for sure, and they both know Galinda bruises easily. 

It’s in looking down at the matching spots on the girl’s legs that Elphaba notices it: the bright slash of red across Galinda’s hip, the fabric of her grey-striped skirt ripped open. Her eyes widen, breath catching, and she glances behind Galinda and spots the culprit immediately- the sharp metal corner of one of Galinda’s pink trunks.

“Galinda, your hip!” Elphaba reaches for it, stopping just inches away as her hands flutter uselessly, not wanting to touch the exposed skin and cause Galinda any pain. The cut is relatively shallow, but it’s bleeding steadily, about a hands-length of torn skin across Galinda’s right side.

Galinda looks down, gasping when she sees the wound, her face draining of color. Elphaba is sure it means the pain must’ve just hit, and she puts her hands under the girl’s elbows to steady her, worry rising and making her stomach twist. She starts to try and lead Galinda toward the bathroom, but--

“My skirt!” Galinda’s voice is high and horrified, her hands going to her side not to inspect the wound, but to grab at the torn scraps of cloth dangling from the side of it. She sounds so utterly heartbroken and scandalized by the sight, and Elphaba would be amused, usually, if it weren’t for the fact that Galinda is bleeding. 

The sight of the brilliant ruby droplets pooling outside of Galinda’s body makes Elphaba’s heart do gymnastics in her chest, and not in a good way. Icy fear creeps down her spine even if, logically, she knows it’s a superficial wound. 

It’s just-

Galinda doesn’t even seem to care. She doesn’t even seem to notice, the pain not registering for either her torn side or her bruised knees. She’s more worried about her stupid clothes than her own body, and it’s an unfortunate pattern that Elphaba has come to see in the girl. One that frustrates her to no end. 

Galinda tries to pull out of Elphaba’s hold to turn back toward the closet by her bed--to get a new skirt, to grab her sewing kit, to continue searching for the perfect outfit, Elphaba isn’t sure--and Elphaba feels her patience snap. 

“Galinda,” she growls, tightening her hands and giving the blonde a light shake. “You’re bleeding.” 

“I know! It’s going to ruin the fabric, this skirt is custom and I only have a set amount because Shiz gives all new students the same set of--”

“I don’t care about your skirt!” Elphaba cuts off. “You’re hurt, Galinda!”

Galinda finally stills, blinking at Elphaba dumbly and then looking down at her side like she can’t process why Elphaba is so worked up. “Yes?” 

Biting back a groan, Elphaba once again tries to steer the blonde to the bathroom. “So we need to clean it and make sure it isn’t deep enough to need stitches. At the very least, you’ll likely need a bandage.”

“It doesn’t even hurt, Elphaba, I’m fine, and I don’t have time for--”

“Not negotiable.” 

Galinda pouts but lets herself be taken to the bathroom and shoved down to sit on the cold edge of the tub. Her hands find the porcelain edge, gripping tight enough to make her knuckles white as her knee bounces anxiously. Elphaba grabs the first aid kit from under the sink, using the moment with her back turned to take a deep breath and still the shakiness in her own hands. 

Galinda is fine. It’s just a tiny bit of blood, it’s no big deal. 

“You’ll have to take your skirt off,” Elphaba says as she turns back around. She digs through the kit while Galinda shifts her hips enough to do as she’s told, both girls too distracted to make a big deal about her state of undress. 

Elphaba’s mind is whirling slightly, thoughts and feelings tumbling over each other, so she keeps her lips pressed tightly together as she crouches to gently clean the scrape, washing it with clean water and dabbing at it with alcohol that makes Galinda wince and hiss. 

“Sorry,” Elphaba mutters. Galinda seems to have picked up on her mood and is staying quiet herself, staring at the sink instead of watching Elphaba. She sucks in a few more pained hisses but otherwise remains still and silent. 

It isn’t until Elphaba is carefully laying a soft bandage across the girl’s hip, securing it with a potentially-excessive amount of adhesive strips, that Galinda speaks up. “Are you mad at me?” she whispers. Her body tenses slightly as she awaits an answer. 

“I-- No,” Elphaba stutters. She takes a breath. “No, I’m not mad. I just…I wish you would care about yourself more. You were more worried about your clothes than your hip.”

“Sorry.” There’s something fragile and vulnerable to Galinda’s shaky voice that makes Elphaba realize that while she has been gathering herself and calming down, Galinda has been spiraling internally and only getting more worked up. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” Elphaba says. She finishes securing the bandage and shifts so she can catch Galinda’s eyes. The other girl tries to duck away, so Elphaba reaches out to lift her chin. “I really am not upset, Galinda. I just care about you.”

She can see the moment Galinda gets a little overwhelmed, a spark of panic in her eyes matching the way her pulse jumps and her breath catches. “It’s okay,” Elphaba says immediately. “Just breathe.”

Galinda tries, her chest heaving slightly. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” Elphaba calmly instructs. She places both of her hands on the blonde’s knees, rubbing her thumbs in steady circles as she makes her own breathing deep and loud. “What has you so worked up?”

Galinda shakes her head. “Y-you-- I’m-- You’re gonna think I’m s-stupid.”

“Never. I could never.” Elphaba takes another deep breath, coaxing Galinda into following along. “Whatever it is, I’m here for you.”

“I-I have-- I’ve got--” Galinda breaks off, eyes squeezing shut as she takes several more quick, shallow breaths. 

“In your nose and out your mouth,” Elphaba reminds her. Galinda nods sharply, because they’ve done this before; she knows this trick. 

When she’s managed to get enough air to speak properly, she tries again. “Pfannee…and ShenShen…invited me to a-a dinner, tonight…in the city.”

“Okay. And you need something to wear?” Elphaba deduces.

Galinda nods rapidly. “Sh-ShenShen said not to, to look like a college kid.”

Elphaba keeps her face carefully neutral because she knows why Galinda was worried about her reaction. To Elphaba, this whole thing seems like an entirely inconsequential issue in the grand scheme of life. Galinda has lots of pretty clothes that make her look plenty mature, but the fact of the matter is that she is a college kid, and she shouldn’t take ShenShen’s words to heart. 

However, Elphaba knows that to Galinda, such issues and comments are a big deal, and she wouldn’t be a good friend or roommate if she laughed in the face of Galinda’s anxieties. The younger girl can’t help how she feels, and pointing out that it’s nothing to worry about has never gone over very well. 

“Well, first,” Elphaba starts. “Just take a second and breathe, okay? I am happy to help you find something to wear to dinner, and I have no doubt you’ll look amazing in it.”

“Bu-but what if--”

“Galinda, your wardrobe is the envy of the whole school, and you’re gorgeous, okay? There’s no way you’ll be anything less than stunning tonight.”

A delicate blush rises to Galinda’s cheeks, painting them a rosy pink. She ducks her head, and this time Elphaba lets her, sitting back on her heels with a soft grin. 

“Second,” she continues, her voice dropping into something more serious. “If and when you feel this overwhelmed, you know you can always come to me, right? I will never, ever think you’re stupid for your feelings.”

Galinda’s blush deepens, but she does raise her eyes again so soft chocolate meets rich emerald. She takes a deep, if a bit shaky, inhale. “Thank you,” she whispers. She removes her vice-like grip from the edge of the tub and lets them slide into Elphaba’s waiting hands. 

Elphaba gives both their hands a squeeze. “Third,” she says, tipping her chin to Galinda’s bandaged side. “Please, please, Galinda. Promise me you’ll be more careful?”

“It’s just a scratch--”

“A scratch that was bleeding, and all you cared about was your skirt.” Elphaba sighs, shaking her head. She had told Galinda she wasn’t mad. “It worries me that you don’t see the issue here.”

Galinda pouts, her bottom lip quivering as tears gather in her big brown eyes. “Elphieee” she starts to whine, but Elphaba steels her heart and manages to resist the potent sight. 

“Galinda--” Elphaba takes a deep breath, closing her eyes and laying her cheek against the girls’ conjoined hands. When she opens them again, she hopes Galinda can’t see the depth of the emotions she’s trying to hide. “I care about you, Galinda. Not your clothes. I-I don’t want to see you hurt. Ever.”

Galinda’s performative pout shifts into something much more genuine. She slides off the tub, falling practically into Elphaba’s lap as the older girl lets herself sink to her butt on the cold tiled floor. Galinda is a warm weight across her thighs as the younger girl unclasps her hands so she can loop her arms around Elphaba’s neck. 

“I’m sorry,” Galinda mumbles, hiding her face in Elphaba’s neck as she speaks. She sighs, slumping further into Elphaba as the older girl carefully holds her in place, trying to ignore the feeling of Galinda’s bare legs draped over her lap. For a moment, they just breathe together, finding their balance after the previous whirlwind. 

They fit together like puzzle pieces, curling around each other as their heartbeats sync up and Elphaba’s legs grow numb. “Will you promise to be more careful?” Elphaba whispers once more. She runs her fingers up and down Galinda’s spine, feeling it stiffen slightly as Galinda works on her response. 

“I promise,” she eventually says. “I- I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know.” Elphaba pulls back just enough to press their foreheads together. The weight of her feelings spreads out from the point of contact, a warm rush of honeyed love flowing through her veins. 

“You matter to me,” Elphaba says, eyes closed against the sight of Galinda’s earnest gaze so close to her. “A lot more than any clothes. I don’t want you to be so careless that you really hurt yourself one day.”

Galinda stifles a sound that could almost be a tiny whimper. Two soft palms come up to cradle Elphaba’s cheeks, thumbs brushing against freckled skin. “You don’t have to worry so much, Elphie. I’m a big girl.”

Galinda’s voice is barely a whisper, ghosting over Elphaba’s lips as the older girl swallows around the lump in her throat, and squeezes her eyes shut even tighter. How does she explain that she’s always going to worry about Galinda? That that’s just what you do for the people you love?

Not too many more words are said as the girls pry themselves off the floor and creep back into their messy bedroom. Elphaba takes Galinda by the hand to lead her through the maze, pushing piles of clothes and shoes and belts and bags aside to make space for them to walk. 

This time, when Elphaba’s foot catches the edge of a rug and she stumbles slightly, not quite a trip, it’s met with Galinda’s sweet giggles, the blonde tugging on their hands to steady Elphaba as a furious blush rises to green cheeks. Her clumsiness at least seems to have lifted the mood.

“Watch your step,” Galinda sing-songs, hopping forward to put herself right under Elphaba’s chin as she grins at her. “Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Elphaba rolls her eyes with a huff, but her glowing cheeks give her away as Galinda squeezes their hands once more and leans up to press the most fleeting of kisses to Elphaba’s cheek. “You matter to me, too, Elphie,” she whispers, almost like a secret.

They’re not quite the words either of them wants to say, deep in their heart of hearts, but Elphaba can feel it all the same. She lets it fill her, swelling under her ribs and making her cheeks glow for reasons beyond a touch of embarrassment. 

At some point, they’re going to have to pick everything up. At some point, Galinda will remember she still has a dinner to get to and all her clothes are wrinkled and spread across the floor. Elphaba knows that the anxiety is rooted too deep in the blonde’s brain to be swept away so easily.

But for right now, Elphaba will cherish this moment with Galinda so close she can count the golden flecks in her eyes and promise herself that, the next time Galinda trips, Elphaba will at least be there to catch her before she falls.

[madaqueue]

thinking thoughts about vampire choso…

vampire!choso who’d get all flustered if you accidentally cut yourself while cooking dinner (which he always ate with you to be polite even though he didn’t need to) and has to step away because he's worried about his own self-control before coming back in to help you get cleaned up

vampire!choso who’d stay up all night gently stroking your hair under the moonlight because watching your chest gently rise and fall was a much more pleasant sight than the darkness of his eyelids as he pretended to sleep

vampire!choso who’d carry hand warmers with him because he wants you to be able to hold his hands without getting cold (or who would rest his palms on your neck and wrists to cool you down if you ever got too warm)

vampire!choso who’d always try to be gentle with you because he was afraid of hurting you, still struggling to understand the fragility that is being human, even after you assure him you’re stronger than he thinks

edit: i finally made this a series teehee

[venustrvck]

the christian yukimiya brain rot is not leaving, thinking you two meet in church bc u frequent the same one, and you meet young — him as an altar server and you on the choir.

he's taken in by your voice, the way it carries through the church, how clear it is... how beautiful you look when you sing.

& you both volunteer frequently. it's a small, tight-knit community after all, and not many people consistently attend, it really needs all the help it can get.

he's teasing and playful when you make communion wafers, and you eat the left over scarps together.

one time as young teens, after helping out with bible studies, you snuck wine together. the priest scolded you two so hard... but it's still a fun memory to look back on.

his first gift to you, as lovers, is a silver cross necklace. it's elegant and dainty, and he'd saved up a lot from his modelling gig to be able to get you genuine silver. you wear it all the time.

[sw33tie-faye]

vampire!reader x vampire hunter!character drabble 

 

cw: a bit suggestive, reader is a menace, not proofread, intended lowercase, vampire hunter has no name lmao

wc: 1.3k

a/n: got this idea while using c.ai, u can imagine this as any of ur favs <3

you're inside of the home of one of your most recent victims, sitting on the couch. you were relaxing, blood dripping from your mouth and hands as you finished drinking the blood of some random businessman.  

you were well-known across many villages, feared for your somewhat violent nature, but you preferred the quiet life if you were being honest. the people knew of you, but they had no idea what you looked like, which you took advantage of. 

suddenly, you hear the door open, and from it emerged a man. not your average man, though. he was a vampire hunter. and a skilled one at that. 

he looked at you with a calm expression, but there was something else behind it.

“i’ll avenge the countless innocent people you ruthlessly killed.�� he said, with determination laced in his voice. 

“mm, sure you will”, you replied sarcastically. “you look quite young for a hunter”, you say, taking in his features. 

“is this your way to get me to let you-” he cut himself off mid-sentence and shook his head. he looks you up and down. “you don’t look too old yourself.” 

“looks can be deceiving.” 

he smiled, though with barely any emotion behind it. “how long have you been around?”

“hmm,” you took a while to respond. “a couple centuries, i'd say.” 

“huh, that’s much older than i anticipated..” he thought to himself. He regained his focus and asked you his next question. “how many people have you killed.” he uttered in a calm, yet cold tone. 

“eh, not many to be honest.” 

he raised an eyebrow, his expression one of surprise as that was not the answer he was expecting. “oh really?” he murmured. he then took a step closer to you, looking you in the eyes as he tried to read your expression. ”why's that?" 

“i don’t attack people unprovoked.” you responded dryly. 

he stopped right in front of you, looking down towards you as you sat on the couch. “so you only kill as self-defense?” he said, seeming interested. 

“yeah, basically,” you answered. 

“i find that quite hard to believe, i mean, why wouldn’t you attack humans?” he questions.

“well, consider the fact that i haven’t killed you yet.” you said with a blank expression 

he chuckled softly, looking somewhat amused. “that’s a fair point, i suppose.” he mumbles, mostly to himself. “but why not attack? surely it would’ve been easier for you that way.”  

“eh, i don’t really have a reason to.” you said. 

his expression changed to a confused one. he slightly narrowed his eyes, not breaking eye-contact with you. “why don’t you want to? a hungry vampire kills for blood.” 

“i usually use animals as a blood supply. and besides, if i drank blood from a human they wouldn’t die.” 

“so you don’t usually kill humans? you just feed off of us and walk off?” his surprised expression returns. 

“not really, even though human blood tastes much better.” you said. 

he raised an eyebrow and leaned closer to you. “it tastes better, yet you don’t?” 

“mhm, because i’m so nice.”  

he laughed again and softly shook his head, looking more amused. “sure you are.” he said sarcastically. he paused for a moment, before continuing to speak again. “you’re quite the interesting individual, aren’t you.” he said, now standing right in front of you. 

“i’d suggest you step back.” you warn. 

he does the complete opposite, taking another step towards you. “why should i? are you getting scared?”

“no,” you respond, “but i am still hungry.”  

“i see, hungry for what, i may ask?” he says in a teasing tone. 

“your blood? what kind of question is that?” you reply dryly. 

 

he continued to grin as he lightly grabbed your chin, tilting your head so you were looking directly at him. “you want to drink my blood, don’t y-” 

before he could finish his sentence, you latched your fangs onto his neck and sunk them in. he winced in pain and grabbed at your shoulders as you drew out blood from his neck, drinking it directly from the source. 

his grip on your shoulders tightened, but he didn’t pull away. his eyes screwed shut and he tried to stay calm, a few sounds left his lips, but he tried not to make too much noise as you drank. 

you on the other hand, were having the time of your life drinking his blood. it was succulent and sweet, more addictive than anything you’ve ever had before. 

you pulled away for a moment, and began licking and sucking at the wound you left behind, making sure that not even a drop of his blood was to go to waste. he winced again as you continued to lick and suck on his wound. 

he fell down onto the couch, still visibly in pain. 

 “that really hurt y’know..” 

 

“you taste good.” you say, ignoring his previous statement. 

 he lightly rolled his eyes. “is that the only reason you did that?” he teased. “you sure are something.” 

 

“says the one who was basically whimpering.” 

he freezes for a second. he then crossed his arms, his pain seemingly gone. “i wasn’t whimpering, i was merely grunting from the pain.” he spoke. 

 

lies, he was 100% whimpering. 

you eye the injury on his neck, courtesy of yourself, and feel yourself grow hungry again. you lean in towards him and reattach yourself onto his neck and continue drinking. A few quiet whimpers leave his mouth as you do so. 

 

“wow, you’re definitely not whimpering right now.” you say as you continue. 

“s-shut up..” he said breathlessly. 

you climbed on top of him for easier access and wrapped your legs around him, practically straddling him as you drew your fangs deeper into his neck. more whimpers escaped his lips as he instinctively grabbed your hips. 

“a-ah..! ow, ow!” he opened his mouth to speak again, but was too distracted by your current position. heat rushed to his face as his cheeks were dusted with a light blush.  

you began gently biting and sucking other parts of his neck, leaving small marks that were certain to blossom into bruises later, but that wasn’t your problem. his grip on your hips tightened as he leaned back into the couch, throwing his head back and allowing you to have more space, his breathing becoming ragged and uneven. he tried to regain his composure, but his attempts were unsuccessful as you continued. 

you pulled away from his neck again to see his face, and oh, what a sight it was. sweat was dripping down his forehead, his face was flushed, his hair disheveled. he was breathing heavily, and his eyes were practically rolling to his skull.  

what a masochist

 

after a while of admiring his disheveled state, his hand reached the back of your head and guided it back towards his neck, wordlessly asking you to continue. who were you to refuse such an offer? 

as he requested, you bit deep into the other side of his neck, lapping up the blood that escaped. You began kissing and sucking other parts of his neck and now exposed collarbone, biting down gently, not enough for it to bleed, but it would definitely leave a mark. 

soft moans escaped his lips and his grip on your hips grew tighter. he arched his back a bit and continued to let out sounds of pain and pleasure. His entire face was completely red, and he couldn’t seem to form any words, just soft, needy, whimpers and moans. 

you continued for a bit longer, and his moans only grew louder and louder. After a short while, his pretty moans came to a halt, heavy breathing replacing them. you got off of his lap, only to find a wet patch over his pants where you were once sitting. 

 

damn that was kinda hot-

[devilfic]

omg we need more of the honeymoon shot bruce and reader,, maybe a one bed trope if it’s not too much to ask no pressure obv!!<3

❝honeymoon❞

II. marriage bed.

parts: previously / next plot: the in-laws are in town. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: arranged marriage, friends to enemies to (fake) lovers, implied history between reader and bruce, only one bed trope. words: 1.6k.

"I'm sorry" feels numb to say at this point. You still say it, standing at the foot of what should have been your marriage bed. It's been a long night and you'd wrung your hands of dish soap until your family practically barked at you to get to bed, to get back to your husband.

You can still hear them, cackling downstairs in the living room while your nieces and nephews tumble through the hallway. It must feel alien to have your childhood home, long devoid of familial joy, be suddenly bursting full of it. And have none of it mean anything to you.

Bruce stands shoulder to shoulder with you for a few more beats. Then he walks to the door, and you watch him twist the lock with a firm click. Your heart picks up a bit.

His steps are muted on the carpet and you take in his shoulders, the rolling hills of muscles in his back, and the pants that cling to the divots of his hip bones. The black cashmere is a gift from your mother, something preferable to his "ratty" sweats. He didn't like these very much.

Since you'd started living here, you caught glimpses of him like this. A heavy shadow of a man skulking in the darkness, waiting for you to leave for work before revealing himself. Rarely would you find yourselves crossing paths in the kitchen or catching eyes in the living room. And with each fleeting glance, he would escape elsewhere, receding into the tower the way a frightened cat might hide from strangers. Intruders. Funnily enough, you found avoiding eye contact helped that.

But now there was nowhere to run. Your family was here for the holidays and they were in every room. Eyes everywhere.

"Do you need to work tonight?" You'd started calling it that: "work". It made sense around the family (not so much your mother), and it didn't put him on edge when you skirted around the "B" word. "I can help you get downstairs."

He's half-turned to you, waiting on his side of the bed, so you can see the way his face scrunches up at a thought, "Gordon... told me to take time off. For family."

You snort, "You told him the in-laws were in town?"

"Yes."

You blink, "Oh."

Bruce had told you that between you and Alfred, no one else knew who Batman was. The lieutenant, trusted friend and ally as he were, had yet to join the ranks of your prestigious little club. It felt wrong to be in it when he wasn't; you'd forced yourself into it, and Bruce didn't even trust you.

You round the bed opposite to Bruce, and staring across it at him felt like staring across an ocean—he was so far away. You wondered how many people had shared this bed with him. How many he trusted as little as you.

You understand that the Bruce you remember was still a boy, grieving much differently than he is now, and had liked you just a little bit more.

You're the first to draw back the covers.

Bruce watches you settle in before following suit, reluctant, as if he were still wondering about the cons of sleeping in his car tonight. The weight of the bed dramatically shifts and you glide against the silk to his side when he lays down, your hand going for his upper arm to steady yourself. He jolts at the contact, staring you down like a deer in headlights.

Your second sorry of the night spills from your lips, and you squirm away from the warmth of his side and back to the edge of the bed.

You both lay like that for a while, side by side, neither of you particularly comfortable.

"Why didn't you say no?"

His question rocks the stillness in the air. You almost jolt. You turn your head and ask, as casually as you are able, "Say no to what?"

"The marriage."

Ah. "You've met my mother. It's hard to say no to her. Isn't that why you're in this situation in the first place?"

He remains looking up at the ceiling, but you see his jaw constrict, "The you I knew had a backbone."

He means it to hurt. Reminders of your youth together had not softened with time, it seemed, even if he treated you like a distant memory. You don't muster up the courage to bite back at him. Instead, you tuck your tail and keep the mist from gathering in your eyes, "...Yeah."

He doesn't seem to have expected that response. He finally turns his head to look at you, visibly confused. For a few moments, the two of you just stare at each other. Him, analyzing. You... mourning. "Is this what you wanted?"

It's becoming harder to hold back tears, "Not this. Not with her pulling all the strings. Regardless of what you think about me, or my mother, or my family, I didn't want any of this. I don't... want to be your enemy, Bruce."

You want so badly for him to believe you. You've never wanted anything more than for him to see you honestly, transparently, except perhaps to see him the same. To not have to fight.

He's about to say something when the doorknob wriggles, followed by a tentative knock. The two of you sit up and listen for who could be at the door, until a small voice calls your name through the wood, "My niece." You say, rigid. "She must be lost." You go to stand but to your surprise, Bruce is already at the door letting her in.

She stands at just about his knee, blanket clutched in her chubby arms and mouth hidden by the purple fleece. She has to turn her head all the way up to look him in the eyes, "Uncle Bruce," she says through a lisp, "where's the bathroom?"

You can't fully see Bruce's reaction from the bed. From the side, you watch his shoulders sag and his cheek rise in what you think is... a smile.

Very slowly, he comes to a crouch in front of her, "The bathroom?" He asks. She nods an affirmative. "Why didn't you ask Grandpa Alfred? He knows where everything is."

Her eyes dart to the side, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, "...Grandpa Alfred is scary."

Bruce laughs, actually laughs. He hasn't laughed around you. Hasn't managed more than a smile today, and only to placate your mother. He's warmer too, more open. You watch him. Mesmerized. "He is a little scary, isn't he? But I promise, he's really nice if you get to know him." Your niece doesn't seem so convinced. A moment passes as Bruce thinks of what to say, "How about I come with you to go ask him?"

Her eyes light up, "Really?"

"Really."

Bruce holds out his arms to her, and though she's reluctant, you watch her tumble into them with arms thrown around his neck. He hops back to his feet with her perched on his hip like she weighs nothing—and she probably does, to him—and asks her in a hushed voice if she's holding on tight.

Her little head turns to look at you over his shoulder and he follows, his smile weakening some.

You almost ask if she'd like you to come with, but think better of it. In the time it would take Bruce to complete this task, you could try to fall asleep. Maybe then it'd be easier on him to share the bed with you, "Go with Uncle Bruce. Maybe Grandpa Alfred will show you the fancy swords if you're brave enough to ask."

Your niece beams, urging Bruce to take her to him this instant, and they disappear out of sight.

You're half conscious when Bruce returns and shuts the door, but there is no click of the lock to follow after.

With your back turned, all you have to tell you where he is in the room are his small sighs. He's on his side, closer than you expected him to be so quickly, and you curse the carpet that hides his footfalls. You keep your breaths measured, pretending you're fully asleep, and wait for him to climb in.

One knee presses into the mattress, then the other, and you quickly remember the problem with this bed.

He's just laid on his side when you go sliding backwards, feeling your body collide with his chest. You force your eyes to stay closed but you are chilled with mortification. Should you move? Give up the facade of sleep and scramble for the other side of the bed? Would he shove you away?

You wait for his heavy hand to fall on your back, but... nothing. Seconds crawl forward at a snail's pace. You can feel the heat of his hand hovering over your hip where your night shirt had ridden up, but he never touches you. You take slow, deep breaths. You wait for him to wake you, then, if he won't shove you.

But that also never comes. The tips of his fingers lightly brush the skin of your hip, and then disappear. You feel his arm wiggle between the both of you, feel him shift a bit on the mattress, but nothing more. He doesn't push you away. Doesn't call your name. Doesn't shake you until you're forced to crawl to the other side.

He gets comfortable. Stiff, but comfortable, and he doesn't move you. You wonder, as the heat of his chest makes you conscious of your heart beating quicker, if it's too late to crawl back on your own.

You wait for what feels like hours contemplating it. So long, it feels like he might've fallen asleep behind you. So long, that you melt into his side of the mattress. So long, that sleep comes and morning soon after before you could even make up your mind.

[eph3merall]

toxic!chris . . .

it wasn't that chris didn't like you. he wouldn't stop the flings he had with other girls just for you though. even if you were so patient with him—"i really like you, please tell me you like me too." your words rang in his head, paired with the cute smile you always flashed him. it had his heart beating a little faster, but he wouldn't let you tie him down. he didn't exactly want a relationship, y'know? even if chris promised you he'd give you a chance. even if he promised that he stopped the hookups, the flings, the one night stands. even if he promised he deleted all those girls' numbers, and unfollowed them.

chris is shrugging his shoulders as you confront him about it. going through his phone was pretty shitty though, so he doesn't get why he is in the wrong. "come on, you didn't seriously think i'd be tied down by you. you know we aren't anything special."

"you promised!" you screamed, because he even went the extra mile to pinkie promise. even if you know he thinks it's a bit childish. he promised you. chris said he stopped his flings, he deleted those numbers, he stopped flirting with other girls. you went through his phone. you also caught him at a party with some girl perched on his lap, sloppily kissing and grinding against each other.

"'s not a big deal. not that serious, baby," and then you're chucking his phone at him, and he's trying to get you to stay when suddenly all your things are in your hands and you're rushing out the front door. nick and matt don't say anything.

he doesn't care. even though some part in him does care, he doesn't let it show. he doesn't acknowledge it, because you were just another girl. nothing special. even with your stupid gifts, your smiles and the way you always found time for him. how you'd always be so considerate and spend so much time with him.

chris didn't care.

first posted written blurb sos this is not proofread

was originally gonna write this as matt, but :/

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©eph3merall 2024