#* always open. » prompts

[bet-on-me-13]

Amity is a Dimensional Dump

So! Amity Park is a hub of weirdness of all sorts, mostly undead, but there are also a bunch of Multiversal oddities connected to the small town.

There are the minor anomalies. 5th Street has a bad habit of slipping into the Backrooms, Old Lady Jenkin's House sometimes has snow in summer, and of course the Night Sky had a 20% chance of swapping views to another Galaxy. Danny likes that one a lot.

But the biggest Anomaly is how many Multiversal Travellers get lost there.

They are always finding somebody wandering the streets with no idea where they are, and have to help them find their reality of origin. Other times they decide to stay for various reasons, ranging from a bad home life to being the only survivors of a Dead Universe. Half of the population if Amity was made up of the descendants of Lost Travelers, so their DNA was really a mixed bag.

Danny was flying over town when he spotted a Blur on the ground below.

He flew down to intercept, and found a boy in red and yellow panicking over his situation.

"Hey! Can I help you?" He called out.

The boy looked up, and gasped "Are you a Hero? I need help getting back to the Justice League!"

Danny chuckled, "Which one?"

The boy looked confused, "The Adult One? I guess?"

"Not what I meant, sorry. I mean, which Dimension are you from?" He clarified.

"Dimensions? What is going on!?" He shouted.

"Okay, let's calm down and restart. My name is Danny, who are you?" He introduced himself.

The boy took a deep breath, calming himself, before saying, "Okay, my name is Kid Flash, but you can just call me Wally."

[confessedlyfannish]

Writing Prompt #13

"So?" Red Hood asks, arms crossed. "Was I right?"

"Yes," Phantom says, deepening his voice, "this is one of mine."

"One of your what?" Robin growls. Nightwing's hand on his shoulder is the only thing keeping him from invading Phantom's personal space, which, please, continue to do so Mr. Nightwing, Sir.

Phantom would take a deep calming breath if a) he wasn't trying to appear as otherworldly as possible which means no human breathing and b) if that wouldn't so obviously telegraph how uncomfortable he is in the Batcave surrounded by the entire Batfamily.

Next to him Red Hood shifts in slight discomfort. His ties to the spectral realm mean he's picking up on Danny's unease even if he can't fully translate the feeling. Which is good. Danny needs to maintain what little control he has over this situation.

"There's a gh-spirit in my...realm," Phantom says, letting himself drift gently to the other side of Batman's medical table which just coincidentally puts more distance between him and the the rest of the clan staring him down. Black Bat leans forward and he violently suppresses a flinch. "They're known as Nocturne. They wield power over dreams. Their signature is all over this."

And Danny means that literally. Their ecto-signature couldn't be more apparent if they'd written it in sharpie across Batman's suit. This is what Jason—Red Hood, because Danny couldn't have been dealing with a simple civilian case of ecto-contamination, nooo, he's got to have connections to the superheroes Danny has spent the better part of his afterlife avoiding—managed to pick up on, even being the low level entity that he is.

At which point he'd called Phantom in, even though Danny had spent the better part of two weeks trying to intimidate the guy into never contacting him, Ruler of the Spirit Realm (lightning crash!), again, but here is his calling card just in case (thunder and creaking noises!!), but again, you should never use it unless things are very serious, OoOoOoOo~~~

Damn it. It's been like 10 days.

"So how do we fix it, Your, uh, Ghostliness?" Nightwing says, ducking his head in a sort of half-assed supplication when Phantom turns to him. Nightwing glances at Jason for affirmation who shrugs out of the corner of Danny's eye.

"Phantom is fine," Danny says, waving his hand and letting his upper lip curl in an expression of distaste. "Remember, it's like you're Vlad when Dad offers him a glass of eight dollar wine!" Jazz's voice reminds him. Robin growls lowly, likely meaning he's nailing it. He looks away dismissively ("Honestly, it's like you're Vlad, anytime, ever." Sam notes dryly) and thanks god he doesn't have a heart in this form because it would be beating so loud right now.

Beside him, Jason scratches compulsively at the back of his neck. Huh, his anxiety is manifesting physically as an itch. Good to know.

"You can't fix it," Phantom says. "I can."

"At what cost?" Red Robin asks. "Red Hood mentioned you'd want something in return?"

Frick. His other contingency to keep Jason from ever contacting him again. Phantom had lightly hinted his taste du jour was, uh, souls.

Something Red Hood has apparently let slip, because now Robin shakes off Nightwing's hand, puffs out his chest and declares "I will trade myself for my father's safe awakening, Spirit!"

The other members burst into denials which almost covers up Danny floating sharply back and saying "What? No!!!"

Key word: almost.

Danny coughs as they stare at him.

"That is to say, I have no desire for a child," he puts a bit of snarl into it, showing fang. The mood in the room plummets drastically as Nightwing gently grabs Robin by the arm and pulls him back to his side.

"We see," he says. He steps forward more assertively, placing himself in front of the others, all of which are now eying him warily. "Then, is there a gender you prefer?"

It takes a second to click in Danny's head and then he swings his head wildly away from his audience to hide his reaction, nausea and embarrassment turning his face bright green. "Fika Kristo," he mutters in Esperanto as quietly as he possibly can, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He gives himself a moment to settle and game plan before turning back around. "I have no desire for any of you, and it matters not. In this instance, a deal need not be struck. Nocturne is my subject, and they have done this without my permission." Danny blinks, eyes widening. "Not—not! that I would give them permission to do such a thing. In the first place. Ahem."

"Okay...so you'll do this for free?" Jason asks. "Seems like a bad business practice since you also fixed me up for nothing—"

"What he means to say, Your Majesty, Phantom, is thank you!" Signal says in a rush as Nightwing starts, "Wait, Hood, what do you mean—"

"Enough!" Phantom says loudly (nearby bats take off and Jason's itch migrates to his forearms) "I have little time," read: he has a test tomorrow and he's only one-third of the way through the study guide "And I grow tired of this...dilly-dally." Frick! Is that an old-timey word?

"Of course. Thank you again, Phantom." Nightwing says stiffly, eyes still narrowed in Hood's direction.

"Wait, sorry, Phantom, Majesty, I'm Spoiler by the way," the purple-caped vigilante Danny already knew was Spoiler says. "How do we keep this from happening again? To any of us? Is there a way to defeat this Nocturne?"

"Moreover, why Batman?" Red Robin asks. "Why would a spirit from another dimension want him asleep?"

Phantom sighs. "Nocturne was trying to send a message. To me. Through you," he says, nodding at Red Hood. "They...how do I put this. They like attention. Being the spirit of uh, dreaming, they don't receive that attention. And you were in my realms for quite some time. And they wanted...attention."

The lackluster explanation sits for a moment before "They were jealous? Of me?" Red Hood asks skeptically.

"It's more complicated than that. Your...physiology," Danny puts it as delicately as possible, watching regretfully when Red Hood still stiffens at the mention, "Is particular. You gather attention in our realm. And having my attention is...special. But not!" He says to the group at large, a touch panicked, "Romantic!"

Jesus, he's never gonna hear the end of this from the others.

"Anyway, I will ensure it does not happen again."

"By paying them attention," Spoiler says under her breath, wiggling her eyebrows at Black Bat, Red Robin shooting them both a glare. Nightwing ignores them in favor of staring at Red Hood and Phantom. Danny is unsure what Red Hood has disclosed about how he knows Danny, but now he feels confident the answer is close to nothing.

Before Nightwing can ask whatever uncomfortable thing he's about to ask, Phantom disappears. Invisibly, he hovers over Batman's sleeping body and silently apologizes for the intrusion before intangibly slipping into Batman's REM realm and finding the man...oh...

Probably thirty minutes later he reappears to the group, who all perk up at the sight of him. Their eyes bounce from him to Batman; who does not move, to the monitor; which shows no change in his brain activity.

"I'm going to need your help," Danny says to Jason, getting to the point.

"Why? What can I do?"

"It's easier if you come with me," Danny says, grabbing his arm.

"Come with—"

Danny wastes no time in turning them both invisible and flying them into Batman's mind.

"What the—" Red Hood twists and turns, taking in the hallways of the manor. From afar, they can hear the tinkling of a piano. "You, I had your word—"

"This isn't where you think it is," Danny says hurriedly. "We're in your—Batman's dream." He walks quickly down the hallway, towards the music. Jason follows.

"What?"

"The way to break a dream spell is to wake the dreamer. You can't do that externally so you do it internally. Usually you wake the dreamer by turning the dream into the nightmare, scaring them awake."

The hallway stretches on longer than realistic, the dream attempting to divert them. But it can't outrun Danny. His power seeps into the halls, ice creeping along the paneling and freezing the way behind them.

"Batman, however, is hard to scare."

"So you want me to do it."

"What? No." Phantom shoots him a confused look. "Why would I—Ahem, The other way is to convince the dreamer they are dreaming. They break the dream themselves."

"Alright..." Jason says slowly, now keeping pace with him. His breath forms a cloud as he speaks. "And you think I'm the person to do it? I'm not the one he listens to you know, that's more Nightwing's schtick, or hell, anyone other than me."

"This isn't just Batman's dream, Jason," he says. Hood's eyes narrow at his real name, but now the truth is necessary. "This is The Dream. The perfect life. Everything he could ever want."

They're approaching an opening on the right side of the corridor. A bright light emanates from it, alongside the noise of stumbling piano keys and laughter, deep and male and unrecognizable. The Dream.

"Thomas Wayne," Jason breathes. "You want me to convince Bruce it's worth walking away from the center of his universe? It'd be easier if I put a bullet in their chests."

Danny stops abruptly before the doorway, turning to face Jason.

"You know, I fixed you," he says, head cocked. "Those feelings you felt, you shouldn't be feeling them anymore."

"I...I don't."

"Then why do you act like it?" He lets himself drift up, reaching beyond their planes of existence and extending a metaphysical hand to Jason's spirit. It shivers away. "You don't have to hide behind what was."

"I'm not hiding! And I don't have to explain myself to you!" He tries to move forward but Danny puts a hand out and he cannot move past it. He growls in frustration.

"I'm grateful to you, but with or without the Pits I'm fucked up. This is just who I am. This is just what he made me."

"You've never asked why I look like this. But did you know my form is malleable?" Phantom says, letting his legs shift into a tail, letting two eyes become three. "What I believe is what I am."

And then he takes several steps back, putting the doorway between them. "From here on out, the Pits can't tell you how to think or feel. Your decisions are wholly your own. Starting with this one."

Jason stares at the doorway, then Danny.

"I won't make you," Danny says simply. "And if you desire, I will retrieve Nightwing instead."

Jason scratches at his arms, grits his teeth, and stomps through. The light resolves into the sitting room, massive windows letting in sunlight so bright it streaks yellow-white across the room. Bruce sits on the maroon versailles couch next to Cassandra, who sits cross legged, excitedly watching Alfred pour her a cup of tea. To their right, in the open space, Damian barks instructions at Tim on handling a katana. Stephanie and Duke sit on the ground besides the coffee table, homework sheets sprawled across the surface, suffering their way through a calculus problem.

Bruce, smiling softly, looks across the room to where the atrocious playing is coming from. Red Hood follows his gaze.

Sitting at the piano, trying to play while Dick distracts him with a pair of chopsticks, is Jason. He puts a hand on Dick's face and shoves, both of them hitting the wrong keys.

"Get—away—dumbass!"

"No, see, it's a duet! Jay!"

"That's not why it's named—" and Jason Todd-Wayne tips his white-tipped head back and laughs.

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Red Hood stared down at the small child holding up a box. It was wrapped in newspaper and tied with twine, but was very clearly meant to be a gift. The kid bounced on their toes, trying to hold it up higher.

"I made it for you!" They exclaimed. "Don't worry; it's not a bomb, I promise!"

[mipmoth]

It wasn't even a double battle

[hayateart]

I hardly ever draw Bingqiu but here they are!

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 278

You know what I’ve gotten obsessed with and inspired by? Dredge. 

You know what is also fun? Merfolk. What’s even better? Lovecraftian corrupted merfolk. Especially if say, one goes with the Lazarus Waters being a form of ectoplasm. So, in this? Lazarus waters are like lakes, while Amity Park, thanks to the Portal, and the barriers? It is an entire sea. 

There are islands, small areas that were once the tips of buildings that have gathered more landmass around them. There are mangroves, trees not like anything on earth or anywhere else stretching up in canopies dark enough to block out the sun, yet lit by the green waters. 

It goes deep. Mariana Trench deep, despite it being impossible. The GIW have explored for caves or tunnels, they’ve tried to find some sort of explanation, but there isn’t one. 

Now all that ecto? That has an effect on people. They mutate, they change, they adapt. Anywhere else would have been a slow death- something the GIW might have even been counting on. But Amity Park? It was founded by witches, it was the hotspot for the supernatural, even before the Fentonwork Portal. They’ve been dealing with this sort of energy in microdoses from the moment they first began to live in the city in any generation. 

But they begin to adapt. Shift into something… other. Some stay contaminated, clinging to human forms as they form homes on the tiny islands, fishing and farming what they can. Others become Liminal, almost seeming to meld with fish, some similar to ones of the Living and others something just to the left. Similar yes, but not quite… right. And then there are those that have truly melded with the energy of the dead, forms torn asunder by it, ripped apart and made anew by it. 

The first sign back when the barrier was activated, when they could no longer leave and were trapped were the fish in the lake. And now they are the same, with gazes of something Else, with gnashing teeth and a hunger gnawing at where hearts once were. 

But they aren’t monsters. They’re still themselves. Just a little… Other now. 

[ocean1221]

Hero x villain

Hero doesn't know villain is a teenager that became a villain because they were bored, villain does a great job at hiding their age that is until finals weeks come around villain is busy studying and completely forgets about their 'side job' hero thinks villain is planning something really bad instead villain is trying to figure out how to find x

[pokeberry5]

Cissiecassie in b5 and c5 of you're still doing requests!!! I adore your style<333

i think i accidentally confused these, so cissie and cassie in 5b and 5c respectively:

i wanted cissie in a suit (ish) with cassie on her lap 😔

ref from this

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #58

Gotham is a city with a lot of ambient ectoplasm, enough that the Fentons move here instead of Amity Park. Danny being a pretty smart kid being the son of 2 scientists gets a scholarship to Gotham academy where he makes friends with Tim and Damian. Well the 2 were only doing it at first because they wanted to keep an eye on them scientists rarely didn’t become rouges in Batman’s gallery so can you really blame them for being cautious?

Danny is telling them about the portal that they were trying to build and how it wasn’t working and how Danny felt guilty about it. The 3 venture down there when the parents are gone and Danny wearing his hazmat goes into the portal while the other 2 watch on. Danny trips and no one’s having a good time.

They decided to take Danny to Wayne manor until they can figure out what exactly happened to him, unfortunately Danny’s new powers act up and he winds up phasing through the floor into the basement… or more accurately the Bat cave.

[kinardsevan]

Prompt: Buck finds out that Tommy is actually related to TK Strand.

(ahem. you asked for this.)

ETA: I have a serious problem with word skipping when reading if you can’t tell 🙃

He never intended to find out this kind of information. He done the 23&me on a whim after joking around with Eddie and Chim at work when Chim had randomly dropped into conversation “did you know I’m eight percent Scottish?” And of course they didn’t know, because how would that information have been freely available to him? How would he ever have known? 

And then Chimney had gifted him and Eddie each tests for Christmas, and at the time, Evan had figured ‘why the hell not?’ So he’d done the whole thing. Spit in the tube, sent it in, figured maybe he could at least find out if he had to worry about cancer in his future due to the Daniel of it all. 

“You sure you want to mess around in that,” Tommy had asked him over dinner one night. “I’ve heard about people finding out about murderers in their family.” 

But he’d been so sure. So sure there would be nothing interesting that would come back. There was nothing fun about the Buckley’s. His parents are teachers. His grandparents died of natural causes. What’s the worst that could happen? 

Turns out it was a lot. 

. . .

He’s on the stairs when Tommy comes into the loft, duffel still hitched up on his shoulder. They’re supposed to be spending the weekend together, but Evan’s not really sure what’s going to happen after the last twenty-four hours. 

“Hey,” Tommy murmurs softly, letting his bag hit the floor as he walks over to the stairs. He perches down at the base of them, resting a hand on Evan’s knee and ilfting the other to his face, brushing away the tears there. 

“Hi,” Evan rasps back, still staring at his hands folded in front of him. 

“Eddie said Bobby sent you home,” Tommy murmurs. Evan nods. 

“What’s going on,” Tommy asks softly, concern laced around his words. 

Evan’s eyebrows are knit so tightly together they could one into one another and the line his mouth is pressed into could crack peanut shells. 

“I-…My…Um, Maddie…” The words keep dying in his throat before he can get them out, and it just keeps making the knot in his chest tighter. 

“Is something wrong with Maddie?” 

Evan’s head lifts then, meeting Tommy’s eyes. There are conflicting emotions in the blonde’s sapphire eyes. Sorrow. A little bit of anger. Something else Tommy can’t place. Loss? 

“No,” he replies rapidly. “No, she’s fine. B-but she’s… she’s not-…”  Evan shakes his head at himself and reaches for his phone next to him on the stairs. He unlocks it, swipes at it a few times, and then passes it to Tommy. Tommy stares at him for a moment longer than necessary, and then looks down at the screen. 

“Family tree,” Tommy comments, moving the screen around to see the connections. It takes him a moment, but then suddenly he’s pulling the phone closer to his face, moving things around. “Where’s Maddie and Chim?” 

Evan lets out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob, pressing the back of a hand to his nose as he sniffles. Tommy just keeps staring at the phone. 

“This has to be wrong,” Tommy comments. He sets the phone down and looks back up at Evan, cupping his face. 

“It’s not,” Evan rasps, blinking more tears down. “I got the first set of results weeks ago. Told them the same thing. They had me send a fresh sample and retest.” 

Tommy deadpans at him, eyes widened. “Evan.” 

“They’re not my family, Tommy.” His voice is so small and broken that it breaks Tommy, and he can’t stop the tears in his own eyes. “I never fit in because I didn’t belong to them. I’ve never belonged to them.” 

Tommy slides his hands off Evan’s face then and stands, pulling the blonde up with him as he does and into a tight hug. Evan burrows his face into Tommy’s neck, crying softly into the fabric of his maroon henley.

“I’m so sorry, Evan,” he murmurs to him, hand to the back of his head and lips to his temple. For all the jokes everyone has made in recent weeks after Chimney had gifted his friends the test, nobody, not even Tommy, could’ve forseen this outcome. 

They stand in that position for a while, letting Evan process. When it seems like he’s calmed enough, Tommy pulls him over to the table and they sit down next to each other. Tommy pulls Evan’s chair right up next to his, stretching his arm across the back of it and resting his free hand in the blonde’s on the table. 

“There’s nothing that says you have to do anything with any of this information,” Tommy tells him. “Maddie is still your sister. Your family is still your family.” 

Evan sniffles, leans over and rests his head on Tommy’s shoulder. 

“I know them,” he murmurs a moment later, his voice cracking. “The-…my biological family. I know them.” 

“You do,” Tommy asks. He tries not to sound overly curious in case Evan doesn’t want to give more information. 

Evan nods, lifting his head back up. “You remember my friends who came through a few weeks ago to visit?We went to dinner with them?” 

Tommy’s brow furrows as he tries to recall what Evan is specifically referring to. When it clicks, he looks back over at him. 

“TK and Carlos?” 

Evan nods. “H-his parents-… o-or I guess….” He pauses, shakes his head. “Owen and Gwyn had a kid their first year of college. Me, apparently.” 

Tommy frowns at him. 

“They placed the baby for adoption,” Evan continues. “With the option for the baby- me… to seek them out if I decided to once I was an adult.” He pauses for a moment, scowling at his table. “I don’t know h-how, but m-my parents...they tried to have a savior sibling, for Daniel. And it didn’t work. But they knew people through the hospital, a-and when I was born…” His voice trails off, his expression shifting to one of disgust. He looks up at Tommy. “I was technically a match to Daniel. But the graft didn’t take.” 

Tommy narrows his eyes at him, the weight of what Evan’s telling him sinking in. “They adopted you so they could have your bone marrow?” 

Evan lets out disgusted laugh, shaking his head. 

“And then when I couldn’t save the son they actually wanted, they acted like I wasn’t their problem,” he mutters. “And they never told me. “ 

Tommy huffs. He lifts his arm from behind Evan and pulls him in, presses his lips to the blonde’s birthmark. 

“I know it’s not a consolation, but you can still know them,” he states softly. “You already have TK in your life.” 

Evan shakes head, pulling away and looking at Tommy again, more tears in his eyes. 

“Gwyn is dead,” he tells him. “She’s been gone for two years now.” 

Tommy’s head tilts at the information, sorrow and compassion crossing his face. TK also had mentioned when they met that his father was a cancer survivor, and the realization of both of those factors is almost gut-wrenching. 

“I don’t have the right answers for this,” he admits softly. “But I can be here with you through it, whatever you want to do.” 

Evan nods. He leans back over, resting his head on Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy presses his face into Evan’s hair, leaving quick, gentle kisses there as his fingers massage gently on his scalp. 

“You’re the only person who’s ever loved me just as I am,” Evan murmurs, snuffling back a small whimper. “The only one who’s ever decided I was enough this way.” 

Tommy gulps down past the knot in his throat as he fists a handful of Evan’s hair, holding him close a beat longer. 

“Never gonna stop,” he rasps after a moment. “This version of you is enough, no matter what anyone else thinks.” 

[prettymediocrewizard]

forehead kissies for tenma from grimmer :) height diff advantage

oh you're SO right. Thank you (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

[amethystpath-writes]

P2 Spare Him

Part 1 here

HIII HOW R U? SORRY, IT'S JUST YOUR NEWEST WRITING THE "Spare him" ONE WAS JUST SO LOVELY (Actually, all of your writings are ✨amazing✨) AND MY CURIOSITY IS PEAKED- PLEASE MAKE A PT 2?? (If you don't want to that's okay!)

Hope you're doing well, Thank you and have a great day <333

---

omg hi! so i just read your snippet “spare him” and it’s sooo good! i was wondering if you could continue it?

---

(A/N): Thank you both!! You guys are too sweet <3 Buckle in, this is a long one :)

******

Hero was silent as Villain led her down various corridors of his palace. He had left his audience of council members without a word, and cued his guard to follow along with his free hand. Now, Hero just wondered where they were going. She expected Villain would keep her locked up with the petty thieves and criminals, but they were going up stairs, not down.

She focused on Villain's fingers as they walked, and it wasn't until now that she noticed his knuckles were pink instead of white. He loosened his grip. When? Hero wasn't sure, but this sight was more familiar than the calloused king in the throne room. This touch, this lead, was welcoming, but she couldn't become accustomed to it again. It would be too foolish.

"You may leave us," Villain stated as the three of them approached a door on the right side of a long hall. There were four more doors past the one they stood at, and two behind, while the left side of the hall held the same seven doors.

"Your Majesty-"

"You may leave." Not a request, a demand. This tone would never be usual to Hero. It would never be the tone she expected to hear. His tone hurt, a quill against the drum of her ear, sharp and stinging and sudden. It made her stomach turn.

The guard didn't attempt to argue further. Hero wanted to ask, Would you have hurt him if he didn't leave? Would you have killed him for disobeying? Alas, she remained silent.

Anger would have better suit her situation. Screaming and demanding, beating Villain's chest with her fists. She wished to have her childlike rage back, when her brothers would mix mud into her perfumes or ripping her teabag when she wasn't looking so she would get a mouthful of herbs upon her next drink. Oh, they made her furious.

More than nothing else, she wanted this fury. Instead, she had become tame over the years, questioning her emotions before responding to them. Sometimes, she pondered so long that she couldn't even react in the face of her brother's murder. Sometimes, that was today.

She strode through the now-open door, not even noticing that Villain had entirely released her, walking in alone and leaving her alone in the hall. He didn't demand she follow, just waited with his back against a bedframe that stretched to the ceiling.

Walking into the room further, she noticed an abundance of decorations: tapestries on the walls, rugs beneath the bed and desk, and wooden knickknacks...knickknacks. Those were from Hero; she gave them to him during his last visit, before...

"You kept them."

Looking to Villain, he only nodded. In the throne room, amusement lit Villain's eyes. Now, Hero couldn't see his eyes at all. He wouldn't look at her, much less meet her curious gaze. "He asked me to," he finally said, ignoring her remark about his knickknacks altogether.

"What?"

"Close the door."

Hero obliged, shutting it with a soft thunk. She stood by the door, still, feeling safer by it than being any closer to Villain than need be. He was going to have me executed.

"Your brother. It was the only way to stall your father."

"Villain, what are you talking about?" Whatever it was, could she even trust what he said? Her palms were sweating with anticipation of what he would say next.

"I didn't believe him at first- i didn't want to, but he had these letters, and they had your faither's stamp." Villain's back left the bedpost as he began pacing about the room. His demeanor was panicked, and Hero felt her emotions arising without the time to process them. Tears welled in her eyes, and in her confusion, she wasn't sure why.

"Villain, stop. Stop, I don't know what you're saying." Hero reached behind her to touch the door, to feel anything solid.

"Do you remember my father falling ill." Hero shook her head, despite her recollections. Villain's father had fallen ill upon their last visit to Hero's kingdom. The king came down with fevers and hallucinations. He spoke of his heart beating as quickly as horses' hooves running into battle. He fell into a sleep one day, and though Hero expected a sweat to break across his forehead, one never did. Her own father grimaced and cold it a case of bad weather. It had been dreary and cold, after all.

"My father was poisoned. It wasn't the rain, Hero."

"Did you see it happen?"

"No, but your brother-"

Horror clutched Hero's heart. "Is that why you killed him. You thought he killed your father?" Hero didn't doubt that his father may have been killed, but by her older brother? "You are despicable and you..." She was already pushing the door open, ready to leave, to dart down any hall she had to in order to leave. Learning her brother was killed for nothing almost felt as though he was being killed again.

"Hero, listen to me." His body was in front of her in a flash and his arm held the door. "It was your father, and your brother knew it."

"Nothing you are saying is making any sense. My father would never kill the king of another country without good reason. We were betrothed, Villain." Betrothed since Hero was born; they're kingdoms were always meant to become allies. It wouldn't make since for her father to kill Villain's. There was already an alliance.

"I know, I know. The pieces are scattered. Your brother's words were lost on me, too, but come here. I have the letters from your father."

Hero was reluctant to leave the door she stood by. She didn't trust Villain well enough to leave her one and only escape behind. But then...where would she escape to? Villain had always been faster than her when growing up, and that was as children playing games, not kings chasing runaway prisoners.

Villain seemed to pick up on her hesitancy because he volunteered, "I can bring them to you?" He was already at his desk, clutching papers between trembling hands. His gaze was soft, and Hero found her own gaze meeting the knickknacks on his desk again. Was it possible he was the same boy now that Hero gave those to then?

She nodded.

Villain's jaw clenched as he turned his head to the side with closed eyes. His expression spoke of pain. Hero watched the lump in his throat bob before he gently shook his head, opened his eyes, and began to walk over.

Her palms were hot as she clenched her fists and her shoulders ached with the tenseness strung between them. A knot formed in her throat, as large as Villain's adam's apple. She thought she was going to choke on it as Villain's arm brushed her own. He was leaning in, holding the papers out in front of either of them.

"I'm going to share these with you, but you can't speak about it outside of this room." He paused before gently asking, "Do you understand?"

Again, Hero nodded voicelessly. She felt as though she was in a dream, a sick dream which haunted her, gripped her throat, and wouldn't let her go. Was this real? Was any of this real?

"Your brother found these, trying to play a harmless prank on your father- stuff feathers in his boots; you know how he was."

And so Hero did. She almost felt a smile tug at her lips. She could imagine the scene:

Everyone would be in their chambers, bathing, and dressing for the night. Hero would be on her balcony, looking at the moon, stars, and clouds. Her sweet and mischievous brother would poke his head out of his own door and warn her to stay inside.

‘What did you do now?’ she would ask him.

He would smile and say, ‘Stop worrying, won’t you?’

‘Father is going to have enough of you one of these days.’ Did he? Was Villain telling the truth? It wouldn't explain why villain was the one that killed her brother, but maybe there trily was more to the story than a senseless betrayal.

"-council is fitting for my style of ruling. You are blunt, unlike my own family and council.”

"Wait, wait I wasn't listening." Without thinking, she took the papers from Villain's hands, brushing her fingers against his own. She read and read until, “One of my lords has a garden for the Assassin’s Keep. My wife has always found the flowers unknowingly pretty; it would not be difficult to harvest some…But the lord’s garden is poison.” This last sentence was Hero’s own. “He has been keeping poison in his chambers so acclimate her to their beauty. She would have never thought differently of them.”

“Keep reading,” Villain encouraged.

“I don’t-” Hero couldn’t read any more. Where would it lead? If she kept reading and learned her father really did want to kill Hero family off- “I left my brother, Villain. I have to go back for him.”

Hero turned on a heel, papers clutched tightly in her fist. As her hand reached the door, Villain’s hand stopped her.

“I can’t let you go back.”

“Villain-”

“I will send someone to search for your brother, but it’s not safe for you to return.”

“But he has no one to-”

“For all we know, your father has already started a search party, and what do you think they will do when they find you?”

Well, Hero hadn’t considered that. If her father did want her dead, whatever soldier was in charge of finding her wouldn’t bring her home; they would kill her on the spot, say they found her dead in the woods- much like her own father possibly blaming the king’s death on the weather. It reminded her…She circled back to Villain’s desk with the papers still in hand. Hero thought now, if Villain truly was the nefarious one in all this, well, she was alive now, wasn’t she? Maybe there was some truth behind his words.

“What does your father have to do with this?” she mumbled as she skimmed. “Here.” Hero wasn’t sure why she was pointing it out as if Villain didn’t already know. In any case, she began to read aloud again. “The king is soft- focused too heavily on friendliness than actually protecting his people…Who is this even addressed to?” In her frenzy, Hero didn’t even think to look until now.

Gods, where was her mind? She was once a child full of reactions, then a young lady with a reserved mind, then a daughter- now sister- in mourning, then a prisoner kneeling beneath a sword, and now a woman so desperate for the truth that she couldn’t think straight to retrieve it.

She skimmed the words as she flipped back to the beginning. Surely, the papers were out of order by now. Hero certainly wasn’t keeping track.

“Villain, you killed him.” She slammed the papers down. Hero couldn’t let herself forget this no matter who was involved. Villain still killed her brother. None of these letters could explain that.

Villain drew a breath at this time. “How about I leave you here tonight? You can look at your father’s letters without me breathing down your neck.”

Hero looked up. “Will you be back?”

“Before morning.” Villain nodded to the vastness of the room. “It’s not appropriate to emerge from a room that is not his.”

This was Villain’s room. It made sense; he had a nice desk, rugs, wall decor, a large bed, the knick-knacks Hero gifted him, amongst many other things. It looked much like Hero’s room back at home. But, “Why have the king’s chambers in the middle of the hall?”

“My council said it’s an unpredictable location. Among their own hall, I’ll never be expected.” His lips drew tight and his nose wrinkled as his brows pinched. “Personally, I think it puts me more at risk. After all, a council is not made up of soldiers.”

“Why would your own council put you in that position?”

He shrugged. “Keep reading. I will see you before sunrise. Best you lock the door when you leave.”

“Where will you sleep?”

“Recently, it’s easier for me to sleep with my eyes open. Rummage as you will. My room was always meant to be yours anyway.”

Betrothed. Villain and Hero were always meant to marry. It was meant to unite their kingdoms. If it was already agreed upon, and Hero and Villain were even in agreement, why would her father throw it all away?

She looked to the papers on the desk, sprawled out where she had thrown them. “The key?”

“Look around what you’re familiar with.”

Thoughtlessly, she lifted two of the three knick-knacks. Under one was a small key.

“I’ll slide a clover under the door when I’m ready to come in. Don’t open the door for anyone else.” He turned his back to her, and left with a final, “Sleep well, Hero,” in his wake.

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

ooooh if you’re still taking those prompt drabble requests, i would absolutely ADORE to see you tackle “they can’t hurt you any more” 🩷

(drabble, uh, not so much) from this prompt game.

Almost a year of early morning training had conditioned Roy that when his phone vibrated at 4 am, it was likely his alarm. But this morning, it wasn’t his alarm, no, someone was calling him. Dread filled his stomach. There was no good reason for anyone to call him this early. His brief hope that that was some terrible accident and Ruth was being called to work was when he saw the name on the caller ID. 

Jamie Tartt.

“Jamie?” Roy answered on the third try, his fingers missing the little green button the first two tries. 

There was no answer on the other line. Dread crawled up Roy’s spine when he heard rustling, then finally, Jamie’s voice reached his ears, distant and muffled. 

“Get the fuck out!”

Roy wasted no time pulling on trousers, and his boots, and the phone was on speaker phone in case there was more to hear. 

Roy wished there wasn’t more to hear or Jamie come on the line.

The unmistakable sounds of a fight reached through the phone louder than a siren. 

Fists connected with flesh. 

Pained grunts filled the speaker. 

Furniture splintered and broke. 

All the while, Roy prayed to hear Jamie’s voice again.

The phone connected with the Mercedes Bluetooth as Roy threw the car into drive, thankful for the empty streets as he sped through West London towards Jamie’s house.

“Jamie? Please, Jamie, say something,” Roy begged. 

Instead, Roy heard laughing, but it wasn’t Jamie’s laugh. It wasn’t the laugh that Roy’s had come to recognise in a group of rowdy footballers, the laugh that relaxed him when he’s worried, the laugh that made him smile even when he was in a shit mood. No, it was a laugh that sent shivers down Roy’s spine. A laugh that Roy wondered how many times meant danger for Jamie. 

Roy hung up and called 999 and prayed he wouldn’t be too late.

-

The first thing Roy heard when he entered Jamie’s house was deadly silence.

Roy expected screaming. He expected more sounds of a fight. He expected chaos. But what met him was an alarming quiet.

“Jamie?” he yelled, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. “Jamie?”

The first thing Roy saw when he entered Jamie’s living area was destruction.

Roy expected chairs overturned. He expected broken tables. He expected chaos. But what met him was even worse than that.

“Jamie?” he yelled, again, frantically scanning the destroyed room. “Jamie?”

The first person Roy saw when he finally laid eyes on someone was James Tartt.

Roy expected Jamie to be waiting for him. He expected the men to still be fighting. He expected Jamie would need his help. But what met him was a seemingly unconscious James Tartt and a missing Jamie.

“Jamie?” he yelled again, stepping over debris to move throughout the room. “Jamie?”

“Roy?”

The voice was little more than a croak but at that moment Roy couldn’t think of a better sound. Roy skidded to his knees in front of Jamie, who was on his hands and knees on the other side of the couch. Roy guided him to sit with his back against the glass walls that led to the garden, knowing Jamie would feel safer if he could see the room, see everyone who came in, see his father still unconscious by the kitchen table. 

“It's okay, Jamie. He can't hurt you.”

“I didn’t, I didn't, I didn’t mean to,” Jamie stuttered as he shook his head back and forth, not making eye contact with Roy, only staring at his father’s body. 

“Hey. I know, it’s okay,” Roy said, moving his body in between Jamie’s eyesight and James. 

Roy’s eyes ran over Jamie’s body, looking for wounds or injuries. The footballer was curled into himself, seemingly smaller than his frame. There was swelling and redness that Roy knew would bloom into bruises and cuts bright red against too-pale skin. Roy wondered at the damage hidden beneath Jamie’s clothes and feared the emotional damage hidden beneath the pliant personality. 

“Hello? Did someone call 999?” came a shout from the entryway. 

Roy had left the front door open, hoping help would arrive soon after he did. 

“Back here,” Roy stood and yelled. 

A man and a woman came into the room then, each carrying a large bag. They eyed Roy and Jamie but stopped at the unconscious man first. The male paramedic said something into his radio but Roy couldn't catch it. Roy held his breath as they knelt next to a prone James Tartt and checked for a pulse. Maybe Roy should have done that, but hadn’t been able to muster a care at the time when Jamie was potentially injured. Still, Roy exhaled with relief when they found one. James Tartt might not deserve to live in this world, but Roy didn’t want Jamie to have to deal with the pain of being the one to remove him from it. 

“Roy, Roy,” Jamie said quietly, hands desperately grabbing at Roy until he bent down and held Jamie’s hands in his own. 

“He can’t hurt you anymore. It’s okay, just close your eyes. I’m right here, I’m not leaving you.”

Jamie did as he was told, but Roy doubted he could do more than follow Roy’s orders right now. Still, Roy moved his body to block the view of the paramedics. 

“It's okay, you’re okay, it's gonna be okay,” Roy repeated, rubbing a thumb across Jamie’s fingers, careful of the raw and bleeding knuckles. 

“I didn’t, I didn't mean to,” Jamie 

A noise behind Roy startled him, as the paramedics moved the loaded gurney from the sitting room towards the door, towards the awaiting ambulance, towards a hospital.

“Fuck off,” James said behind him.

Jamie’s body trembled under Roy’s hands at his father’s voice. 

“This ain’t over, Jamie. Don’t forget where you fucking came from, don’t you fucking forget–”

“Get him the fuck out of here,” Roy turned and stood faster than he thought his knee could move him, almost knocking a chair over as he rose, not that it would have mattered in the mess. 

Roy didn’t turn back around until he watched the gurney roll through Jamie’s front door into the cold morning, James yelling the entire time. Before Roy can turn back to Jamie, the female paramedic stands in front of him.

“We should take a look at him,” she nods at Jamie. 

Roy turned to examine Jamie again himself. The cuts looked superficial, but Roy worried Jamie wasn’t simply in shock but had suffered a concussion. The erratic breathing could be from nerves, or it could be due to broken ribs. Could Jamie stand? Could he walk? All questions Roy needed answered before he would begin to think about Jamie being physically okay. 

“They’re just going to check you out, Jamie, make sure you don’t need to go to hospital.”

“No, no, hospital,” Jamie said, eyes wide and scared. He stood quickly and Roy thrust an arm to steady him. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“Mr. Tartt, we should really make sure you’re alright.”

“Roy,” Jamie pleaded, his fingers digging into Roy’s arm. 

“The police will want to speak with him when we’re done,” the paramedic warned.

She heard the threats from Jamie’s father, smelled the alcohol on his breath, cleaned the matching gashes on his bloody knuckles. 

“Thanks,” Roy said, wishing he could imbue just how much he meant it. “I’ll make sure he’s checked out.”

Whether by Ruth or someone at Richmond, Roy planned to make sure Jamie was checked out head to toe. The woman took one last look at Jamie before she pulled a couple ice packs and some butterfly bandages from her kit, leaving them on the table with a thanks from a grateful Roy. Roy guided Jamie to sit at one of the chairs at the kitchen table, grateful he wasn’t limping but nervous as to how unsteady he was on his feet. 

The antiseptic smell the woman left behind still lingered in the air when a police officer appeared in front of Roy.

“We just have a few questions for Mr. Tartt.”

“Is he under arrest?”

“No, we just need to ask him a few questions.”

“I don’t think he’s in the proper head space right now to answer any fucking questions. You heard his father, Jamie was just defending himself.”

“Maybe. But we just need–”

“The only need I give a shit about right now is what Jamie needs, and that’s not to talk to you. If you have any questions, you can contact Richmond’s legal counsel, Dana Heinen, if you need her number, fucking Google it. Now get the fuck out.”

Roy followed the reluctantly leaving officer to the front door, looking back at Jamie as he did. He needn’t worry about Jamie going anywhere. Roy was unsure the younger man even breathed the short time he was gone. 

“They’re gone,” Roy told Jamie, pulling his phone from his pocket to call Ruth. “It’s just us.”

“I’m sorry,” Jamie said, the dam finally broke open as tears fell freely from Jamie’s red rimmed eyes.

Roy quickly canceled the call, pulling another chair as close to Jamie as possible and placed his hands on Jamie’s knees. “Jamie you have nothing to be sorry for.” 

“I let him in, I, I forgave him. For what? I’m so fucking stupid, Roy, why the fuck would I ever think he could change?”

Roy pulled Jamie into a hug, careful of any injuries hidden by the naked eye and rubbed his back as he whispered to him, “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

Jamie latched onto him like a life raft as he sobbed on Roy’s shoulder. 

“It’s okay, he can’t hurt you anymore.”

[honey-on-your-tongue]

I WANT JAKE SULLY MEOWWWWW

okay uhh just thoughts how vocal he would be like when various positions 😩😫

NO BECAUSE THIS IS JUST CANON OMLLLL

😩😩😩

Jake is a sucker for you. He cannot hold himself back whenever he's inside you. You mere scent has him drooling, and don't even get him started on the feeling of your pussy around his cock.

When you're on all fours, Jake can feel your gummy walls sucking him in. He'll groan and pant, moans leaving his lips with each thrust. He's almost as loud as you, at this point. It just feels so good.

When you're on your back and he's caging your body under his, he'll press down on your womb, making you tighten around him, and this will lead him to whine, soft little sounds that slip from his lips and right into your ear as he kisses the side of your neck.

When you ride him—fuck, when your ride him, Jake is at his most vulnerable, most breedable, loudest point. He'll cry out audibly, the words, “Please,” and “Baby,” leaving his mouth in thick whimpers. He'll throw his head back as he begs you to fuck him, his body will shake under yours, harsh breaths will leave his mouth and desperate little moans will follow the tighter you grow around him.

When you give him head, Jake just about loses his mind. He'll blubber out anything he can, mewling at you, holding onto your hair as you take his thick cock down your throat. He'll moan lowly, bite his lower lip in an attempt to shut up, but he always fails, ending with you hearing more of those wonderful, guttural moans.

When he fucks you bent over something, he'll purr at the sight of your pussy all spread out for him. He didn't know Na'vi purred, but he found out soon enough, and the sound will rumble out of him as he fucks you. Then, the little reverberation will be drowned out by his gasps and whines, and you'll only hear it again when you lay your head on his chest after you two are fucked out.

When he hoists you up and fucks you with your back against a tree, he'll cry out, groaning and grunting, whimpering softly as your pussy drips down his cock and covers his balls in your slick. He'll gasp, mewling, “Fuck, baby!” as he ruts into you.

Jake is always at his loudest when he comes. When his hot load spills into your cunt, or your mouth, or onto your breasts or face, he'll shudder, gasping, moaning, “Goddamn. Goddamn. Goddamn,” over and over. He'll whine out your name, and he's accidentally called you ma'am once or twice when you were on top. And hearing himself say that makes him immediately blush, his ears folding back even as he keeps coming, even as he continues to moan for you.

Jake Sully is one loud sucker. And every time he gasps and whimpers and moans into your ear, it's a reassurance that only you can get him to show that honest, vulnerable side of his.

-----

@kamcrazy123 @yagirlheree @sweetllamaparadise

-----

Blog masterlist

[wexhappyxfew]

12. pushing a strand of hair behind their ear

For Annie and Brady please.

I love them soo much. And I adore your writing.

Also I hope you’re doing well and are having a great day :)

hello anon! thank you so much for submitting this prompt!! 🥹 it absolutely took a fairly cute direction in quite the circumstance (we’ll see what that means), so i hope you enjoy!! :) thank you for the love on annie and brady too! 😭 that’s so sweet!! they’re a joy to write so i hope this provides some goodness for them! YOU TOO ANON!!! i hope your day (and now weekend) is going wonderfully! please enjoy!!!

i found you again

(a/n): had a much longer version that this but….did not feel ready for that so, i shortened it up and made it work a bit more with the prompt and i liked how it came out so :) it is shorter than some of my other writings, but i hope to expand on it more in future postings haha! please enjoy!!

Annie slowly slid out of her bunk and moved through the tiny room towards Brady's bunk and got a look at his face, immediately shrinking a bit at the sight of him looking so safe, small and youthful in his sleep, reminding her of that last time they'd found each other side by side, the unknowing between the two of them, one of their last conversations face to face. And now….he was right there.

Annie reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a small shake. In almost an instant, he awoke and turned to her in the darkness and immediately reached towards her like he always used to do and grasped her arm. Always reaching.

"Hey, everything okay?" he whispered quietly, his voice a pin-drop in the dark.

"I can't get myself warm." she whispered back, the frustration behind her voice, flogged with a bit more emotion than she was going for and he immediately moved over the best he could in the cot and lifted his blanket up.

"Hop in." he whispered, a small smile on his face. Annie immediately sat on the edge and pulled herself into the bunk, wrapped in her own blanket and turned on her side, immediately becoming engulfed in Brady's chest, his bit of warmth and him. He let the rest of the blanket fall around her form and then he immediately wrapped his arm around her, pulling her shivering form to his own side, arm rubbing up and down, a bit of friction on her clothes, from him. Annie snuggled her head into his neck, where it seemed to be the warmest and let out a small sigh of relief at the bit of warmth that was finally entering her body.

"Better?" Brady whispered, warm breath tickling her neck, and she smiled and nestled closer and nodded.

"Much." she whispered, "Thank you." He smiled, and she shifted a bit, cuddling deeper, and then sighed at the immense amount of comfort that she hadn't felt in days, finally encircling her. Slowly, she brought up a hand out of the warmth of the blanket, and brought it to the side of his face, gently brushing her thumb over the bit of stubble on his cheek, the pleasant feel of him just right there, was comforting in it of itself. It was all she needed.

"So," Brady whispered, his voice somewhere next to her ear, "I never asked, after you were captured - what happened?" Annie shifted a bit and sat up, away from the warmth of his neck, and instead staring down at him, her thumb brushing his cheek, head resting on her hand, staring at those twinkling eyes.

"I was out of it for the most part," Annie whispered back, reaching up to brush some of his strands of hair from his face behind his ear, over and over, watching the sleepiness roll into his eyes, "between the knock to my head and the knee, the lack of food and water….I don't remember much aside from well…..the questioning. The staring." She met his gaze, watching quietly as he let his eyes linger over her face.

"What'd they ask you?" he whispered, his voice so low, all she really saw was his moving lips in the bleary darkness.

"Questions about everything. The 100th. About Birdie; newspaper clippings and such. About Buck and Bucky, about the Regensberg mission - my name was in the paper. Asked about home." Annie managed out, her eyes hardly leaving his own, "I didn't tell them anything. I told them my name, my number, my unit. That's it." Brady watched her and slowly brought up his free hand and brushed it against the bottom of her lip, lingering over the few scabs under her chin from the few scuffles with Germans and falls and punches.

"You?" she whispered back.

"The same." he whispered, "Lot of questions about the 100th - Buck especially. A few about you." She stared at him.

"I didn't let on a thing, though," he whispered, "I'd rather die than give away info about any one of us."

For a moment, they just stared at each other in a way that was far more intimate than anything else in the past few days, enough where her heart raced, and she suddenly felt consumed by his ever-present gaze on her own.

"Did they do anything to you?" he whispered, his thumb brushing her cheek again as her hands continued to prod his hair, "I swear to-", he looked at her, "Annie, if they laid a finger-"

"No, they didn't, not like that," she whispered, hand shaking against his face, "just shoves, a few…punches-"

"Punches?" Brady whispered, "Annie I-"

"John." she whispered, louder than she had wanted and quieted herself, shaking her head, "I'm fine, look-" her hand cupped his cheek, "I'm right here." He stared at her so longingly her stomach hurt, that yearning, that want, that desperate, reaching nature lingering between them.

"I know." Brady whispered, his hand grazing her neckline which was layered in blankets and clothing, "Just….if I ever see them doing anything, I'm jumpi-"

"John," Annie whispered, her voice soft as cream, "you don't have to do any of that now. It's just you and me. Right here." She reached out and took one of his hands, placing it on her chest where her heart was, hidden under skin and bone and overcoats. Brady watched her, like some sort of miracle and believed her. He let out a breath and swallowed.

Watching each other in their current circumstances was an art in it of itself - their hesitant, lingering gazes, the touches on one another's faces, the way her eyes evaded his, but always came back, their bodies so close, pressed against one another, but still distant.

Watching Brady now, he looked beyond exhausted, more than he ever did back at Thorpe Abbotts, and the more she continued that same, calming motion of brushing his strands of hair back, sometimes to settle behind his ear and sometimes to not, she watched his eyes grow more tired.

And in a sense, she got the idea it reminded him of when he was a child, when there was no war and his Ma probably tucked him in at night and brushed his hair gently until his eyes closed. And now, he was halfway across the world, in a P.O.W. camp.

"You need rest," she whispered softly, watching as he leaned a bit more into her touch as her fingers graced over his cheek, his eyes fighting to close, fighting the sleep, "it's okay." He watched her through half-open eyes and brought a hand to her neckline and watched her.

"I'm glad I found you again, Annie." he whispered, "I don't know what I'd do if I knew you'd gone down and didn't end up here." Annie stared at him, her world stilling around her and she couldn't help but lean forward and press a soft kiss to his forehead, before pulling back and cupping his cheek.

"Get some rest, okay?" she whispered, "I'll be right here." Brady watched her again and then nodded, that small smile on his face failing to disappear, as his eyes slides shut and his body finally seemed to relax.

You couldn't do that much here, you were always on guard, waiting for the next sound of explosions, or someone in the hallway, yelling, screaming.

Yet, here, he finally seemed to let go of all of that and sleep.

And until his breathing became deep and slow, she sat up, running a hand through his hair and letting him feel at home for once.

Even if that home was nowhere near here.

Even if home was this, right here.

[bluishfrog]

dnf with patches please thank you 🌷

Just patches saying hi, absolutely nothing else to see here