#Day 1: Crystal Bones

[plutoswritingplanet]

It's A Special Death You Saved (Feyd Rautha x Female!Reader) pt.4 (final)

a/n: we did it Joe! this chapter officially marks the first ever series i've completed lmao. thank you for all the support on this fic, every like, every comment, every out-of-pocket anon ask.

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content (like...fr this time), Blood and Violence, Manipulation.

Summary: After the wedding, Husband and Wife work out the intricate web of their relationship.

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3

Gurney looks at you as if you're already dead.

You hide from his gaze, ducking behind pillars, whenever you can hear his footsteps. It's truly depressing, the way your mentor shakes his head, as if, instead of looking at you, he's looking at a coffin. You suppose he might be right, he's the one with the most experience in the Harkonnen area. He's fought them, dined with them, seen their customs through and through. And now, his dutiful little student is about to be thrown into the very same world, he has relayed to you as a nightmarish fairytale. Still, a little misplaced optimism wouldn't kill him. Or just, a sliver of hope, an inclination that you might survive this. 

The day of your wedding rolls upon you like an oceanic storm, all chaos and rumbling. 

Here you sit, your bones locked with nerves, as the servants pack away your things. A futile thing, you muse to yourself. It's highly doubtful the Harkonnens will let you keep any personal items back from Caladan. They'll mold you into their image, until all your hair naturally falls out. The thought would make you laugh, but here's a servant, placing your jewelry into a case, which lands in a bag, which will be transported to the Harkonnen ship by the end of the day.

Your room, the place you've spent all your life in, slowly becomes more and more barren. 

The closet stands empty, so do the drawers. All your trinkets are swiftly transported away until you're left alone in your wedding dress, the only familiar thing between the hollow ribs of your life's sanctuary. Wishing you could fold the entirety of the castle, with the stables, and the horses, and the cliffs, and throw it into the final suitcase, so you can open it up in times of turmoil, and breathe in the familiar scents. You need to leave, right now. Sitting like this, wrenches a dangerous numbness out of your chest. And you can't be allowed to dissapear into yourself. You're an Atreides, you shall wear your pain with dignity, as per your Mother's wishes.

Your wedding dress swishes around you, as you stand up from your bed. It's much more classy, and less of a chiffon catastrophe, than your engagement dress, a welcome change. The veil is embroidered with light crystals and metal plating. It falls heavily over your face, and jingles when you move. By all intents and purposes, it is a dream dress. A dress you'd like to wear for a wedding of your own, a wedding with some dashing gentleman. A gentleman, which in your most private of dreams, has the face of Duncan Idaho, with silver rings braided into his hair. 

Instead, you're left with this monster, so alien and cold. A beast at the center of the maze.

The bull looks at you from the wall. Its horns, smeared with your Grandfather's blood, curl grotesquely into the ceiling. The head is mounted above the doors to the library, a grim reminder of his spectacular death. As a child, you'd spend hours, standing right here, at the entrance, staring at the animal's head. You've always wondered, whether it were the lights playing tricks on your mind, or you saw a shadow of pride in the bull's eyes. 

Did it know who was its victim? The leader of one of the most important Houses in all known universe laid dead at its feet. Did it know what sort of spectacle it produced? What destruction of hubris? You suppose it couldn't, it was an animal, after all. A headless creature, hung on a wall. Still, you stare at it, just like you used to, trying to decipher your own fate from its cold, dead eyes.  

After all, there will be a spectacle, a life-long fight stands ahead of you. Giedi Prime shall be your arena, dead and cold, covered in black. And every single Harkonnen will be your bull, their mere presence a deathly danger to your being. It took one bull to end your Grandfather, you dread to think how many it'll take to end you. There will be blood, you're sure of it. And if things were allowed to go your way, it would flow in rivers upon rivers, through the industrial halls of Giedi Prime. You'd have the entire planet drowned in their blood. Your cursed betrothed, the Baron, the fucking Emperor if you had to. 

The bull laughs at your quiet hate, beady eyes bearing down upon you in an imaginary display of indifference. You huff, cheeks reddened, insides twisted and burning.

That's how your Father finds you. Enchanted by a once living instrument of death. 

He hasn't spoken to you, since your betrothed has arrived, not really. Not like you used to talk. A way to shield himself, you supposed, from the Emperor's order, which will soon enough take his only Daughter away from him. This was your superpower. You could fish out signs of love in every action. 

- Your Mother hates that thing - he comments, as he stands next to you, eyes looking up at the bull. 

- I don't blame her, the sight is quite disturbing. - you reply evenly. 

You've missed him, more than you can possibly explain with words. But teary displays of affections were below you, especially since you're trying to distance yourself, rise above your body, float right out of your head. Perhaps it'll hurt less that way.  Duke Leto Atreides turns to you, and for the first time in a month, you recognize your Father behind this statue of authority. He looks troubled, for lack of a better word. There's much more gray on his brow and the lines of his face are darker, harsher. 

- I came to give you something - he announces, producing a small object out of the pocket of his trousers. 

It's harder than you thought, tearing your gaze away from the bull, but you manage, your eyes landing on a figurine in your Father's hands. Your heart stops, as you recognize the blackened stone, polished to perfection. On a flat disc stands a figure of a Matador, proud and posed. Next to him, a bull, ready to strike. It's cold to the touch, when you take it from your Father, ridges of the small sculpture digging into your palm. 

Jumping in front of danger, for better or worse. Your head starts to hurt.

- Father - the sound of your shaking voice carries through the corridor - How will I ever survive this?

By the way Duke Leto Atreides sucks in a sharp breath, you can deduce the answer. And what a sad answer it is. 

Your Father steps closer, gathering your trembling hands in his, the warmth of his embrace engulfing you like the first sun rays of spring. He squeezes your fingers, tightening your own hold on the small figurine, and his eyes are so incredibly sad, you're convinced they could make any heart in the universe weep. 

- With courage - he says - and grandiose. 

Like a true Matador would. 

***

Your bull stands completely still. 

His pale skin creates a beautiful contrast against the ever present darkness of the Harkonnen ship. It's so much different from your native fleet, all sleek and black, and efficient. Terrifying, but at the same time, strangely beautiful. 

The both of you watch, as the hatch is being pulled up, slowly but surely obscuring all sight of your home planet. Of your family, standing by the docking station like a funeral parade. It's only when you can no longer see them, your life sealed with a click of finality, does your betrothed, now husband, move. 

His hand grasps your upper shoulder, and you jump at the sudden contact. Your confused gaze is completely ignored, as the man drags you through the ship, taking large, hasty steps. 

Hairless faces swish past you, all so similar to each other, you're worried you'll never figure out who is who. The corridors of the ship wind and turn like a merciless labyrinth, a realization daunting on you, that you will never be able to find your way in this place. 

Suddenly, you're faced with a black door, which opens as soon as your husband walks up to it. His grip tightens and he basically throws you forward, watching you stumble through the entrance on weak legs. 

It takes you a second to gather yourself, as you instinctually settle into a defensive stance. The room you're in looks quite different from the rest of the ship. It's much more luxurious, one would risk saying cozy. With a gigantic, round bed filled with pillows, a dark desk, and a deliciously comfortable looking armchair. It all dims in your eyes, however, as you look up at your newlywed.

He stands right at the entrance, blocking the only means of escape with his tall frame.

Both of you are still in your wedding clothes. Your dress hugs your body in a way that is anything but comforting. His outfit is as black and sharp, as all his attire. It exposes his lean physique, clings to his warrior's physique. Terrifying, your brain summarizes, muscles freezing suddenly. Feyd Rautha looks at you with emotions you can't decipher in the low light of his room. Your room. Your marital abode. 

You can't breathe, lungs tighten painfull with the sheer thickness of the air between the two of you. Still, there's a certain power, residing in your bones, an inclination of a fight you're ready to put up, should he try anything. And by the way his brow bone settles over his darkened eyes, your husband seems to understand. What a terrifying thought. The sheer idea of finding a common ground with this awful man makes your guts turn. 

He doesn't even flinch, when the doors behind him slide open. You however, nearly jump out of your skin at the sound, cutting through the deafening silence of the bedroom. With furrowed brow you watch, as three Harkonnen women spill into the room. All of them completely hairless, lips pulled back in feral snarls, as they regard you with an emotion you can only interpret as contempt. Their bodies, clad in typical, Harkonnen garments, flow and slither, when they gather behind your husband, like three hungry lionesses, their black eyes flickering to him, to you. 

- Get her ready - Fey Rautha throws a command over his shoulder, eyes glued to you still, and his gaze drags itself across your body like tar.

This is the first time you've heard him speak since the wedding, and involuntarily, you cringe at the gravely sound. While he stayed silent, it was easy to forget who you're dealing with. But as soon as sound leaves his mouth, you're cruelly reminded of the roughness, and the strangeness of your life's partner. 

The three women stir behind him, hands sliding up his body in a gesture, that is almost too close to reverence. He does look like a young god, like some ethereal being, but you're too distressed to dwell on that thought. Instead, your arms encircle your body, a shiver of terror and strangely, disgust flowing over you, at the mere idea of these women touching you. Then, one of those three strange creatures moves forward. She has a stripe of black running down her bottom lip, and her face twists into a cruel smile.

She says something in a language you don't recognize. Probably a native Harkonnen. A rough bark, her disgusted expression translating the meaning better, than any dictionary would. 

 Still, you have no time to process the foreign insult, because as soon as words leave her mouth, your husband turns. His white hand grabs the woman's hairless head, as one would pick an apple from an orchard, and then, you see a flicker of true terror flash through the woman's face. In a smooth, deadly gesture, Feyd Rautha smashes her face against the wall, the resounding sound of her skull fracturing against the concrete is like the cracking of a whip in your ears. 

That's all it takes, one move, and she falls into a lifeless heap, sliding down the wall. 

A sigh escapes your lips, as your eyes stay glued to her body. You can't see her face. 

Your husband barks something towards the remaining two women, and they scurry towards you, heads hung low, bodies curled onto themselves. You don't know, whether he looks at you, acknowledges you in any way, shape or form. The doors close behind him, as he leaves you in the hands of his... Whatever these women are to him. 

They begin to strip you where you stand. Their hands peel off your wedding dress from your trembling body, and every move feels like tearing skin from muscle. You can't protest, can't do anything really. Dark, thick blood pools around the third woman's head, dripping between the tilled floor, slowly making it's way closer to your feet. 

When they pull you towards the bed, you say nothing. Let them massage your body with some ointment, which smells of heavy chemicals and scratches your throat. 

Their hands are unexpectedly delicate. You suppose they're too scared to take revenge on you, or perhaps, they just don't care. Doesn't really matter, because you do. You really care, despite yourself. Heart squeezes in your chest impossibly tight, when they help you up from the bed, and once again you're confronted with the white corpse in the corner of the room. 

The dress they pull over your body hardly qualifies as a garment in your eyes. It's made of delicate, sheer material, which barely covers anything, looking more like a courtain thrown over a window. 

Is this how he wants you, you wonder. Terrified, bare, always on the verge of something, be it tears or anger. 

One of the women steps in front of you, takes your hands in hers and rubs something into your cold bones. You try to catch her eye, try to decipher how to categorize them, as humans or as creatures, but she swiftly ducks under your inquisitive gaze. That is, until your eyes flicker towards the corpse once again. 

Her hand shoots up towards your chin, dragging you back to meet her onyx eyes. You can see the reflection of your own confused face in the void.

- You- she rasps, her voice a grating symphony of gurgles and growls that stumble over the common language - Soft.

Whether it's a warning, or a threat, you can't fully decide, but it doesn't matter. Those two words tell you more about your future life, than any book, any archived account. This is what the Harkonnens are made of. Sensless violence, outbursts of anger, dark blood. You swallow thickly, and nod, your expression hardening in the woman's eyes. She looks as if there's something else she'd want to say, but her head ducks at record speed, when the sound of the doors opening cuts through the air once more. 

For a longer moment you're completely devoid of words. 

Here stands you husband, some sort of fruit in his right hand, two daggers hanging from the belt on his trousers. His chest, white and (unfortunately) toned beyond belief stares back at you. His unoccupied hand makes a wide gesture, and the remaining two women scurry off towards their third, dead companion. With quick hands, they grab the body and drag it out of the room, letting the door slide closed behind them. Immediately, you miss their presence, unnerving as they are.

Once again, you're left alone with the na-Baron. 

His eyes float freely all over your figure, taking it in with an impassive stare. It's deeply unnerving, the way you're presented to him, the way he organized all of this, tailored it to his liking. You can't help it, the way your body begins to warm before him, skin becoming prickly to the touch, much too sensitive for the strange imitation of fabric covering it. Still, your mind stays sharp, and instinct kicks in, as you take a cautious step back, angling your bady away from him. 

- So, what now? - you ask, voice rough, eyes following his every move. 

And move he does, slowly advancing towards you. His feet, which you now discover, are bare, drag behind him. Grace and danger mix well within his movements, as he circles you, still without a word. You throat runs dry, when he bites the fruit in his hand, dark juice spilling all over his lips, drops rolling down his hands, his forearms. Your stomach churns. 

- Now - again you're reminded of the gravely tones his voice can carry - We consumate our marriage, wife. 

Somehow, your marital status sounds like a mockery spilling from his lips, and he laughs at the way your face scrunches.

- I don't want you to touch me - a lie, your entire body burns for any semblence of friction, but you're determined to keep some dignity.

To that, he nods his head in silent agreement, a gesture, which actually manages to surprise you. The fruit is thrown forgotten onto the floor. It rolls under the bed, and you fight the urge to reprimend your husband. Instead, you bite your lip. 

- I thought you would say that - he murmurs, coming closer, his breath fanning over your exposed shoulder. 

The hair at the back of your neck stands straight, and you crane your head to the side, so you can look him in the face. So he can see the disaproving expression, perhaps he'd feel a fraction of the hate boiling in your gaze. Then, you can feel something, cold and sharp, drag itself from the dip in your spine, all the way up to your shoulder blades. A gasp escapes you, and your entire body shivers violently. 

- That's why I brought these. - Feyd Rautha whispers into your ear, and you can't help but sway lightly in your place, as if his words have the power to physically move you.

Then, your hand closes around a metal object, and you look down to be met with a beautifully crafted dagger. The blade is silver, shiny, and unbelievably sharp. It fits into your grasp as if it was made specially for you, and the possibility almost makes you smile. Then, confusion creases your brow, and your husband flashes you a deadly, black smile, as he steps back a couple of steps. 

He's holding a blade as well, jet black and strangely matte, a perfect antitype of yours. There's a sort of lazy excitement about him, hidden in every movement. It reminds you of the way he'd behave in the arena, while making a spectacle of death for you and your family. 

- I though this would work on you - he muses, twirling the blade in his hand, and your muscles seize with realization. - And it definitely works on me.

The idea is preposterous, utterly scandalous. Using a fight as some perverse attempt at foreplay, your brain swimms with conflicting emotions. 

- You're being ridiculous - you attempt to diffuse the situation, but your husband doesn't budge, rolling his shoulders.

- Come on, wife - he snarls, with a sharp smirk - Don't you want to hurt me?

Something boils inside of you at his words. Some ancient, terrifying anger that you supposed, has always been there with you. From the moment you stepped onto the red carpet, leading you towards your undoing at the altar. Red, like the spilled blood still staining the floor of this bedroom. The rage, which you swallowed down, when you recited the vows, when you let him unveil your face, kiss you in front of the entire Atreides court. Now, it seeped through every pore in your skin, covering you in a tar like courtain. 

You hate your husband. You hate Feyd Rautha, the na-Baron of House Harkonnen.

Hate him for being your husband, for agreeing to this cruel match. For taking you away from your family, from your wise Father, and your strict Mother, and your sweet Brother. For ripping you away from love, which didn't even have time to properly bloom. Duncan's face dances in front of you like a taunting vision from an angry god, and your fingers tighten around the dagger. 

Feyd Rautha is right. You want to hurt him. You wanted to, before you even met him. 

- There you are - his lips pull back into a cruel, blackened smile of self-satisfaction - I was worried they took away all your venom, Viper. 

You'll show him fucking venom, you think, feet sliding on the floor, twisting your body into a dancing position. Two sets of shields click into life, and suddenly you begin to understand. 

This is your arena. This is your bull. 

This will be your battlefield for the rest of your life, for as long as you're able to withstand it. With courage and grandiose, your Father's voice haunts you, but soon after another echo rises in your mind. Your Mother, your teacher, her whisper slithers from your memory, a passing comment right before you're shipped off to Giedi Prime, when she squeezed your hand so tight, you were worried tendons under your skin would snap. 

Excitement and arousal flow freely from your husband's expression, as he watches yours harden. Something inexplicable settles over your features, a promise. You'll give him a fight of a lifetime, and he'll love it, every single time. It should unnerve you, the way his body lowers itself, like a panther ready to strike. It would've unnerved you some time ago. 

Now, however, it shows you a clear path to survival. This is how you take control.

Cold blood splatters from under your feet, as you jump towards him, a series of measured blows following closely behind. He blocks them, lets some be pushed back by the shield. Then, he's on you, brutal and unhibited slashes fly around your body, and you meet all of them with a blocking blade. You're pushed back, towards the wall, where remains of the previous killing still stain the concrete. Blood seeps into the thin fabric on your body, and you shiver in disgust, as it sticks to you. 

Your husband doesn't notice, his blade leaves a rather deep mark in the wall, as you duck under his arm, and avoid a nasty punch to the gut.

 Plap, plap, plap, your feet carry you through the room, as you try to gain some leverage. The mattress on the bed is surprisingly soft, when you climb on top of it, gaining the advantage of a higher position. An advantage, which is quickly torn out of your hands, as your husband grabs onto your ankle, tugging at it with such force, you tumble down in an instant.

Panic rises in your gut, as the world sins around you, and without really thinking, you let your mind flow into autopilot.

- Let me go! - the Voice tears out of your throat like a landslide, and Feyd Rautha throws himself off of you, his body colliding with the nearby desk. 

Books and papers crash to the floor with the force of his figure. Your head swimms, but you will it away, too focused on survival to care for your well-being. Both of you are panting, trying to recover from this sudden use of ancient magics. 

- I should rip that treacherous tongue right out of your skull - the threat would carry more strength, if your husband's expression wasn't absolutely dripping with unabashed lust. 

Never in your life has someone looked at you this way, and the shock of emotions is enough to pull you right to your feet. Your blade reflects the dim lights of the room, as you raise it high, body taunt and ready. 

- You'll never get that close.

A challenge, which doesn't even have enough time to properly resound in the thick air of the room, before Feyd Rautha pushes himself off the desk. Things clatter to the ground from the force of his movements, and you barely have time to react, when his blade sinks into your shield. Your body flies backwards, falling in heap with his at the foot of your marital bed. The edge digs into your back, your left hand pressed tightly into the mattress. 

He's hovering over you, panting like a wild animal, face illuminated red from below, where, just short of his juggular, your blade licks a stripe across his alabaster skin. His right hand is wedged between your bodies, dagger nicking you under your ribs. And you stay in this position, like a marble statue, your eyes melting into his, frozen in time. 

- You fought well, Atreides - his voice rumbles deep within his chest, and you can't help, but snarl at his words. - We would've taken each other to an early grave. 

Something dangerously close to fondness floods his features at the idea, and your fingers start to unravel, letting go of the dagger one by one. He doesn't have a chance to react, when your blade clatters to the floor, and your hand, now free, grabs the back of his head, pulling him down.

Your kiss opens the gates of hell, and soon, his own dagger is thrown across the room. You can't see, refuse to see, as your eyelids flutter closed. His lips are slightly chapped, but not any less delicious. Left hand thrashes in his hold, until he lets it go. Then, they both find purchase against his sharp cheekbones, and you hold him so tight, you might break his face with your ministrations. 

- I knew it would work - he pants against your lips, you can hear the smile in every syllable.

- Shut the fuck up - you snarl, fingers digging deeper into his skin.

He groans into the kiss, immediately forcing his tongue into your mouth, as his hands work hard to manouver your legs open enough, for him to slot in between. Then, his touch is everywhere. On your legs, he drags the sheer fabric up and down your thighs, as he carresses your skin, blunt nails digging into the flesh of your hips. They venture upwards, to grab at your breasts, they fight their way into your hair, where he pulls and scrapes. 

It doesn't matter, you think, when you hear the fabric tear, and the carefully chosen attire falls from your body. Nothing matters. 

You're boneless and defenseless against this one insidious emotion, which carries your every move, which compells you to arch your back, to reveal your running pulse under his searching lips. Feyd Rautha bites down on your skin, right where your neck meets your shoulder, and you respond in kind, head descending upon his porcelain skin. He shudders under your teeth and tongue, his entire body tensing.

This is how you take control, and you've never felt so greedy. 

His trousers aren't even fully off of his legs, when he enters you, clumsily and with urgency, bare feet sliding on the floor. Surprisingly inexperienced, he chases your core with his entire body, as if the heat of your insides in a completely foreign sensation.Your moan tears at the column of your throat, where his lips leave a trail of purple marks. The covers remains undisturbed, as your husband ruts into you, pressing your back harder against the edge of the bed. It's uncomfortable, it's hurtful, but somehow, it feels perfect for the two of you. Fucking like wild animals, not even able to make it onto the bed.

- I hate you - you repeat, like a mantra, broken voice cascading with every thrust. - I hate you, I ha- 

Your head rolls backwards, when a particularly hard thrust nearly breaks you, but your husband is here to help, his hand grabbing the the roots of your hair, bringing your head down, so you can watch as he performs a magic trick of repeatedly disapearing into your body. 

You're not sure who's blood his hand slips on, but suddenly, you're fully on the floor, your body crushed by his. Nothing stops his wild movements, not the sloppiness of it all, not the hard wails he tears from your body. If anything, the more strain his body is under, the more ferocious he's being. Your hand shoots up, all five fingers digging into his throat, and you're rewarded with an angelic moan, which almost brings you to your finish line. Almost. 

His head leans down into the crook of your neck, where he whispers something in Harkonnen, a gurgle of rough sounds, interrupted by sinful moans. He sounds so beautiful, so conflicted, for a second you consider being gentle with him. Alas, you hate him still.  

Another realization dawns upon you, as your feet kick with force into your husbands backside, to force him deeper, to keep him inside. This is still a fight. You're still on the battlefield, still waving a red flag in front of a raging bull. So, with courage and grandiose, your muscles tense, and you roll your husband over. 

The change in position makes both of you gasp in unison, as you sink down onto him. For a second, everything stops. His lips are red and swollen, sweat and blood mix on his skin, flow down in pinkish stripes. And he watches you, as one would a holy painting of a foreign god. With reverence and utter lack of understanding. You're fully aware the look is mirrored on your face. 

Slowly at first, your hips begin to rock, up and down, in a steady rhythm, that forces a shuddering breath to leave Feyd Rautha's lips. You bend down, to catch it, and because of your greed, you catch his bottom lip as well. The bite you give him is anything but romantic, and his hips jump from the floor, hitting a spot within you, you didn't know existed. He swallows your moan along with his own blood, and his fingertips map the curve of your spine, as you straighten upon him.

Fingernails latch themselves into the skin of his chest, as you speed up, chasing your own release and no one else's. Moans spill from your lips, the concept of shame abandoning your mind completely. Then, compelled by something dark and twisted you drag claw marks down his torso. 

His body shudders, and his hips lift off the ground, fucking into you with reckless abandon. The hold he has on the flesh of your hips is bruising, to say the least, but you did enough damage to call it even. Enough, to make your body tremble and tense up, as climax creeps up on you steadily. 

Like a shark sniffing for blood, he senses the change in your being, and as you tumble over the edge, a silent scream tearing at your throat, he suddenly rises into a seating position. His arms encircle you fully, pressing your sweaty bodies impossibly close, as he too finds his own end. 

It takes him second, to tumble over, filling you to the brim with ink. His head buries itself into your shoulder, inhaling your scent through deep gasps, each eliciting a broken growl from his chest. 

Your bones are gone completely, body relaxing and falling breathless into your husband's arms. After a while of sitting in complete stillness, he moves first. Strong hands lift you up, off of him, and you whine at the emptiness. 

Then, as a last hurrah, he throws you onto the bed, where your recovering body sinks into the soft mattress. It's heavenly, the way you seem to float in nothingness, head swimming from exertion. For a moment you don't even register him climbing into the bed with you, drunk on the fading tension seeping from your every pore.

The lights are almost completely out, yet his skin shines against the black comforter. You wish to see if he's flushed, like he was at the engagement party. Leaning on one arm, his fingers trail around the small wound under your ribs. Dried blood flakes off of your skin, and you shudder again. 

- I - you start, voice completely broken - I've never known hate, until I met you. 

You're not sure why you've said it. Perhaps, in this moment of serenity, truth seems to float to the surface much more easily. Or perhaps you're possessed, or worse, gone completely insane. Eother way, your eyebrows furrow, and Feyd Rautha leans down to kiss your forehead, gently. 

- If this is how your hate looks like - he whispers into your hairline, teeth scraping lightly against it - I dread to imagine your love. 

You'll never find out, you think, but for some reason can't fully vocalize it. 

He says something else, after a while, but your mind is becoming as heavy as your body, and as the day descends upon you in a heap of exhaustion, you fall asleep.

And while your story has nothing but suffering in the future, while there's death and mourning, and years of violence written in the stars for you. Right now, on the Harkonnen ship sailing through space to Giedi Prime, you sleep in the arms of your husband. Whether this strange symbiotic relationship will last, no one can tell, but there is hope, and what else could you possibly need? 

[jina-juhi]

Feels like

you can love again.

Pairing : Johnny × fem!reader

Rating : 18+

warning: smut with plot, protected sex, i tried fluff? fluffy sex? and heart break. and basically all things sex. oh alcoholism. cute sex? plus doggy style plus face sitting:) oral m/f

word count : 4.5k

summary : I could fuck you, right here, right now, but only if you'd ask.

[if you wanna skip to the smut part just go straight down]

Playlist

all too well, Taylor Swift

you heard me, Heather Sommer

1 step forward, 3 steps back, Olivia rodrigo

graveyard, halsey

right where you left me, taylor swift

wouldn't come back, Trousdale

ghost of you, Selena Gomez

company, Justin Bieber

yours, Raiden

crushing, illenium

begin again, Taylor Swift

feels like, Gracie Abraham

link

When all is said and done, and the person you loved is no longer there, what's left to do? How do you cope when you've given your all, only to find yourself empty, a mere shell of your former self? It's like being left with nothing but bones and muscles, a broken machine barely keeping you going.

So, how do you restart? How do you function when they've taken everything and left you with nothing? How do you shift your mindset to believe that this is all for the better? And most daunting of all, how do you open your heart to love again?

It feels like trying to breathe without air, as if the very essence of life has deserted you, leaving behind a jagged landscape of shattered pieces. It's dangerous to get too close to those sharp edges, so you stand alone and don't let anyone close. Trying to find yourself again.

Stand alone and contemplate what you've gotten yourself into and what you've done to yourself. How could you have ignored the warning signs? They were crystal clear. How could you have not predicted it? Too innocent.

Too gullible to let him in.

Thinking about it now feels pointless. "He was a nice guy, but he was too caught up in himself. He never really saw me. He claimed he did, but I never felt truly understood," you confide while he brews your coffee.

"I never felt loved by him," you add, as he sets the mugs on the counter—one for each of you. It's a chilly evening, and the cafe where he works is quieter than usual. You're a regular here; it feels like a safe haven, a place where you can find comfort in familiarity. You accept your coffee in silence, opting not to say more.

"Take a deep breath," he urges, his voice gentle as he nods, trying to seem strong and supportive. "How?" you reply absentmindedly, staring out the window where the fog thickens by the second. The ache in your heart grows, and despair overwhelms you as you fall back into the familiar trap of negative thoughts.

"He wasn't giving you what you needed. You shouldn't have to beg for love. Believe me when I say it's for the best that he's gone." He says.

"I loved him."

"You did, Maybe you still do, but people change," he interjects gently, his gaze fixed on the coffee between you, his words carefully chosen. "In different ways. You may have promised forever, but forever is a long time. Sometimes you grow together, and sometimes... you grow apart. It's nobody's fault in the end. You just drift away, lose that connection, maybe take each other for granted, and before you know it, the fights start."

His voice falters slightly, betraying the depth of his emotions. "I know it might not make sense right now, but what I'm trying to say is... you deserved more than what he could give you. Trust me, you're better off without him."

You inhale deeply, shaking your head in resignation. Raindrops cascade down the window, distorting the glow of the city lights outside. His words echo in your mind, and as you take another sip of coffee, its comforting aroma envelops you. Yes, he's right. You're undeniably better off without him, yet the ache lingers.

Why does it still hurt, months after the breakup? Why does the pain persist, stubbornly refusing to fade away? Days blur into months, but the heartache remains a constant companion. People change, move on. But the pain always stays. It gets a little better each day. You learn to accept. You learn to love yourself. Yet, just when you think you've moved on, something triggers that familiar ache, dragging you back to square one.

But life doesn't pause for heartache. Despite the pain, the world keeps spinning, and you move forward, one step forward and three steps back, hating, crying, wanting, but never stopping.

~~~

A year and almost a half have passed since then. Things have been getting better. The clouds are clearing up, leaving behind a little less hurt and a lot more clarity. There's a sense of hold, of something stirring within—gratefulness, perhaps, or hope. Or maybe its the sound of a familiar ring at the door. You turn around to see a familiar face, a smile lighting up your face as you recognize Johnny.

"A latte, please," you say as he approaches, his presence bringing a comforting warmth to the room. Johnny nods, his gentle demeanor never faltering as he starts to brew your coffee. Johnny's a gentleman, and a law student. He works part-time in this cafe, not because he's broke or anything. He simply lives the high life. Gym first, then college, and then in the cafe followed by late nights of studying. He's a quiet guy who keeps to himself. Disciplined and courteous. Doesn't really like to waste his time on the things undeserving of his attention.

Your friendship with Johnny began in this very place. You remember it must have been around 10 o'clock at night, you had just split up with your ex. It was a stormy night, It felt like the world was collapsing around you and someone was sucking the breath out of your lungs, alone and broken, you found this cafe nearby. The rain was pouring nonstop, so you decide to take refuge, sitting in the corner, your tears flow with the raindrops tapping against the windowpane.

Jhonny brings you a cup of coffee and a napkin with words of reassurance, "It'll be okay, just hold on."

He saw you when you felt invisible to the world, and he understood you when no one else could. In Johnny, you found not just a friend, but a shimmer of light in your darkest moments.

You still have that note.

Jhonny could hardly fathom the possibility of falling in love, especially with someone as uniquely eccentric as you. Little did he know, his heart had already been quietly captivated by your presence over the passing months. As you walked through that door, disheveled and drenched from the rain, the only word that echoed in his mind was "beautiful." From that moment on, an unspoken longing stirred within him, urging him to reach out and connect with you. He extended that napkin, not just to offer solace, but as a gesture of his desire to understand you, to unravel the mysteries you hide behind those smiles. There was an enigmatic force pulling him toward you, compelling him to take that first step.

You became a regular at the café, grateful for Johnny's caring nature. It seemed like nobody else noticed you like he did. Unintentionally, Johnny had fallen deeply in love with you over the past few months. He paid attention to everything about you - your likes, dislikes, comfort songs, and movies you could watch a 100 times.

He became your confidance, your best friend, always there when you needed him. Watching you cry over someone unworthy filled him with the desire to show you wat true love actually is. Late at night, he found himself thinking about you, wondering if you were okay, if you had eaten, or if you were thinking of him. He felt your sadness as if it were his own and rejoiced in your happiness. But despite his feelings, he couldn't bring himself to confess his love.

Simply put, Johnny wanted you. He wanted to show you what true love was, and that no girl deserved to be treated the way you were, left alone in the middle of nowhere, weeping in the pouring rain. Hearing about your past hurt him, but it also revealed your strength and resilience, which only made him love you more. He wasn't drawn to the roses and smiles you showed the world; he was captivated by the scars and bruises you tried to hide.

The more Johnny got to know you, the deeper he fell.

However, he made a conscious decision to hold back because he didn't want to become a rebound love. Instead, he wished for you to heal from the wounds of your past relationship, to move forward and see him for who he truly was, not just as a replacement for what your ex lacked.

He longed for the day when you would accept him completely, with no remains of the past clouding your judgment. So, he waited patiently, hoping for your heart to mend. Hoping for you to let go. Hoping for you to see him.

Time passed away, six months turned into a year, yet you still struggled to let go completely. Though it was getting better, the ghost of your past still lingered, haunting your thoughts and emotions.

How could you not feel shattered? Johnny was just too good for you, too kind. But when you've been hurt before, love becomes terrifying. Trying to piece things together while pretending to be okay is exhausting. It's hard to focus on anything when you're struggling to keep it together. Knowing you love someone and they love you back, yet being unable to fully embrace it because you're afraid of losing them, of getting hurt again - it's paralyzing.

And then there's the guilt. Even though your past relationship ended a year ago, the promises made still weigh heavily on your conscience. How do you reconcile having Johnny in your thoughts while someone else occupies a part of your heart? It feels unfair to him, but you can't shake the feeling.

How are you supposed to let go and move forward when your heart is still stuck in the past? People say "move on" like it's easy, it's anything but easy. It feels like an impossible task, especially when nobody seems to understand what you're going through.

Except for him. Johnny. He understands.

It's so damn difficult," you thought to yourself, feeling the weight of your emotions. Letting go seemed like the simplest solution, but in reality, it was anything but easy. As Johnny led you towards his flat, the thought lingered at the back of your mind.

He mentioned the party he was hosting with his friends at him appartment, someone got a job or something. The atmosphere inside was luxurious, yet simple. with crimson sofas exuding a regal aura in the soft golden light. The air was filled with the sweet scent of vanilla candles and the sound of champagne being poured, it was cozy.

The gathering was intimate, with only the chosen few invited. Amidst the fancy party, all you could think about was Johnny. You wanted to tell him how you felt, that you'd fallen for him too, about the guilt that shouldn't be feeling. Johnny was the best guy you'd ever met, and you couldn't just let him go because you were scared. Even though your past hasn't been great, you didn't want to hurt him because you knew he loved you too. Since the day you met, he's been there for you. And he still is, always there in every little thing. It feels like you're stuck in between, torn between your feelings for him and the uncertainty.

As Johnny left momentarily, you found yourself walking towards the balcony, away from the small talk and pretense inside, with a bottle of champagne. all you needed was a stunning view of the city's glittering skyscrapers, illuminated by the twinkling lights.

You craved peace of mind, a moment to quiet the storm raging within you. Being around Johnny, even for just an hour, had a profound effect on you, all the thoughts and insecurities on one side, and all the feelings of desire and lust, unlike anything you've ever experienced before.

There was no rush of blood and getting all hot and bothered every time your prior partner looked at you. You would never have felt this shy and nervous in his presence. Yes, there was attraction, but nothing like this, but with Johnny, it is the exact opposite. His mere presence left you weak-kneed and breathless, yearning to surrender to the intoxicating pull between you. He awakens you. He makes you want to succumb to him, give into him.

Yes, you yearn to experience the warmth of love, to be cherished and valued in return. And perhaps, deep down, you crave these feelings from Johnny, who has shown himself to be both kind and breathtakingly amazing. The way he gazes at you speaks volumes about his feelings for you.

It's confusing, isn't it? Frightening even. Because all you've ever known about Love is that it breaks and burns and ends, yet here you are, falling for Johnny despite your fears. It's a terrifying feeling, but there's something about it that makes you want to continue. Makes you want to keep dreaming. But you're afraid to confess your feelings, terrified that you'll only end up hurting Johnny in the process. It's hard to find the words, to admit to yourself, let alone to him, that you're falling for him. But despite the uncertainty and the fear, there's an urge within you, a desire to reach out and claim him for your own. All you want is to grab his face, to feel his lips against yours, and to lose yourself in the sweetness of his embrace.

Hard.

And never let him go. You've been thinking about it, about you. And him. And since, you've been moving on, you've been trying to forget and forgive and embrace and accept. You have come to a conclusion that amidst all the chaos, Johnny was the only one there. And that you have hopelessly fallen in love with him.

~~~

Hey," he says, joining you on the balcony, "you're standing alone?"

"Hey jj," you reply, meeting his gaze.

"You call me 'jj' when you're happy," he remarks, puzzled because your tone isn't cheerful.

"I guess I'm happy, sort of. It's been a while, but it feels good," you admit, looking at him standing beside you. He smiles, his eyes filled with happiness. He's genuinely pleased for you.

"That's great," he says with genuine enthusiasm. "Actually, that's fantastic."

He eyes the glass of alcohol in your hand. "Can I have that glass, though?"

That's great," he says with genuine enthusiasm. "Actually, that's fantastic."

He eyes the glass of alcohol in your hand. "Can I have that glass, though?"

"Nope, I'm having a pretty good time," you say, pulling the glass away from him. He noticed a whole bottle nearby on the floor. "I think you've had enough for the night, darling."

darling.

Even in the dim light, Johnny couldn't miss the blush spreading across your cheeks. He's skilled at noticing your reactions and knows how to tease you.

Trying to steer the conversation away from any awkwardness, you say, "So I was thinking..."

"About?" he interjects playfully, trying to provoke a response.

"Everything that's happened, you know, with my ex, and then with you," you begin, but he interrupts.

"Oh, nothing happened between us, as far as I can remember... unless..." he trails off, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"That's not what I meant," you quickly clarify.

"Okay, okay, just kidding. But I kinda wish you did mean it," he mutters under his breath, a smirk forming on his face.

You feel your thoughts becoming fuzzy as you both dance around the topic. Usually, your brain would shut down any such ideas, but tonight feels different. Instead of being repelled, you feel drawn to him, wanting something you've suppressed for so long.

Despite trying to hold back, you find yourself unable to think of anything else.

As the alcohol courses through your veins, emboldening your desires, you find yourself unable to resist the urge to ask him what has been in your mind for quite a long time, and so you ask "If I were to ask for a kiss, would you kiss me? Right here, right now?"

The intensity in his gaze heightens, his pupils dilating as his demeanor shifts, becoming more serious. "Ask me," he demands, his jaw clenched with anticipation. His eyes linger on your lips before locking onto yours, a silent plea echoing within them.

Overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze, you turn away, feeling a rush of emotions flooding your senses. With a deep breath, you struggle to compose yourself, but before you can respond, he chuckles softly. "I knew you didn't have the nerve," he remarks, his tone teasing yet tinged with disappointment. Meeting his gaze once more, you're taken aback by his confidence. As he straightens himself and takes a sip of his drink, his words hang heavily in the air. "I don't know how much longer I can wait for you," he confesses, his voice low and filled with longing, "but if you were to ask me to fuck you right here, right now, I wouldn't even think once." With that declaration, practically deadpanned on your face, he goes inside the flat, leaving you to grapple with your miserable self.

~~~

The night after that seemed to stretch endlessly, a void you couldn't escape. Frustration and regret gnawed at your mind, You turned to more alcohol, a fleeting attempt to numb the pain within, but it only amplified the train of thoughts swirling in your head.

As you sat alone on the balcony, the chilly night air enveloped you, matching the coldness you felt inside. Time lost its meaning, slipping through your fingers as you drowned in a sea of overthinking. Every possible scenario played out in your mind like a relentless storm, each outcome more daunting than the last. What could have happened if you could have just said.

Johnny appears through the doorframe. His presence was unexpected, you thought he was mad yet oddly comforting, a reminder that you weren't completely alone in this chaotic night. "Will you spend the whole night here?" he asked, concern etched in his voice. But you were too lost in your own thoughts to fully grasp his words.

Refusing to retreat from your self-imposed exile, you remained rooted to the spot, the numbness spreading through your limbs. Yet Johnny persisted, his care evident as he gently coaxed you back inside. "It's cold. Come inside, everybody left already," he urged, worry evident in his eyes.

Too weary to resist, you allowed him to guide you indoors, his touch grounding you in reality. As he settled you into his bed, a wave of familiarity washed over you, a stark reminder of the times you'd been here before, always on the edge of leaving. You had been here countless times, yet never truly stayed. But tonight was different. Tonight, you found yourself unable to muster the strength to leave, surrendering to the comfort of his presence, if only for a fleeting moment.

As he guided you to sit on the edge of the bed, you instinctively reached out, clinging to his shirt. "Kiss me," you implored, your gaze locking with his warm brown eyes, overflowing with affection.

His response came with a gentle sigh, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow. "You're drunk," he stated softly, his voice laced with worry.

"I am, but I can still make sense of it all," you insisted, determination shining through the haze of intoxication.

"We'll talk about it in the morning, okay?" Johnny reassured, his face drawing closer to yours.

"Please," you exhaled, closing your eyes, feeling the weight of your confession pressing down on you. "I know I'm the worst person alive right now but I- I'm just afraid. Please understand. I want you, I do, but it's so scary."

"Shh, it's okay, I know," he murmured, his words a soothing balm to your troubled soul. "I know you're trying."

Foreheads pressed together, your breaths mingled, each exhalation a testament to the vulnerability you shared in that moment. "I'm sorry," you whispered, the weight of your guilt heavy on your heart.

"You don't have to be," he replied, his lips brushing against your forehead in a tender gesture of forgiveness. "Look at me."

As you met his gaze once more, his eyes filled with understanding and compassion. "Relax, okay? I'm happy that you opened up about it."

"I'm sorry," you repeated, the words a mantra of remorse.He shook his head gently, his touch comforting. "Let's try sleeping now, shall we? Don't think about it." With his reassurance enveloping you like a warm blanket, you allowed yourself to drift into the embrace of sleep, for the first time with him.

As consciousness reluctantly seeped into your foggy mind, a wave of discomfort washed over you, fueled by the repercussions of last night's poor choices. The harsh glare of morning light pierced through your eyelids, adding to the throbbing ache behind your temples.

Attempting to remove yourself from the confines of the bed proved to be a tough task, your limbs heavy with exhaustion and your head swimming with dizziness. Searching for Johnny's presence beside you, you found only an empty space, adding to the disorientation.

Succumbing to defeat, you surrendered to the comfy embrace of the mattress, sinking into its softness as you lay there, gazing blankly at the ceiling above. Dehydration gnawed at your parched throat. As you drifted in and out of consciousness, the world around you faded into a haze of half-formed thoughts and fleeting sensations. The rhythmic hum of the ceiling fan above served as a lullaby.

In the midst of this surreal feeling, fragments of memories from the night before flickered like distant stars in the night sky. Realization and what-ifs danced at the edges of your mind, their haunting presence a constant reminder of the consequences of your actions.

Yet, amidst the turmoil, there lingered a glimmer of hope, a faint whisper of possibility that perhaps, despite the mistakes of the past, redemption was still within reach. You clung to this fragile thread of optimism, a lifeline in the midst of the storm.

Minutes stretched into hours, the passage of time marked only by the shifting patterns of sunlight filtering through the curtains. And then, as if on cue, the sound of footsteps drew near, with a weary sigh, you opened your eyes to find Johnny standing in the doorway, his expression a mixture of concern and relief. "Hey, you okay?" he asked softly, you nodded sleepily.

As you reluctantly stirred from your sleep, you felt the duvet being tugged away, prompting a sleepy protest. "Erugh, let me sleep," you mumbled, trying to shield yourself from the intruding light.

But his teasing remark about your state of dress snapped you awake, and you jolted up, "You're completely naked," only to realize you were already covered. He pointed out with a playful grin, causing you to blush and scramble for cover.

However, your movements triggered a sharp pain in your head, and you winced, instinctively reaching to soothe it. Before you could fully register the discomfort, another hand joined yours, gently stroking your head. Slowly opening your eyes, you found him sitting close, his concern evident in his gaze.

"Who told you to drink that much? You puked two times," he said softly, his tone filled with worry and care. Giving in to his touch, you leaned into him, finding solace in his presence amidst the pain.

"I... may have overdone it a bit," you admitted sheepishly, feeling a mix of embarrassment and gratitude for his concern. He chuckled softly, his fingers continuing to massage your head as you relaxed against him.

"It's okay. Just drink some water and take it easy," he reassured you, his voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves. With a nod, you reached for the glass he held out to you

He's far too good for you. A voice at the back of your head screams at you.

"Johnny..." you say, breaking the silence that hung heavy in the room. His presence alone was enough to make your heart race, but you needed to speak your mind.

He turns to you, his gaze softening as he listens intently. "What is it?" he asks, concern lacing his words.

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before continuing. "I've been thinking about..." you trail off, unsure of how to articulate the right words.

Johnny reaches out, his hand placing a strand of hair behind your ear,offering silent support. "Go on," he encourages gently.

"I'm sorry," you say, the words heavy with regret. "I know this is complicated, and i am making it even more complicated but I just don't want to hurt you." You could barely manage to say even that.

Your breath catches in your throat as his fingers trail through the loops of your hair, sending shivers down your spine. His hum reverberates through you, a sensual melody that ignites a fire deep within. But then, in an instant, his demeanor shifts, catching you off guard.

His hand tightens around your hair, pulling your head back with a swift, yet gentle force. The sudden change in his touch sends a rush of adrenaline through your veins, heightening your senses to the electrifying proximity between you.

Your eyes meet his, dark and intense, and you find yourself unable to look away. His breath, warm and fruity, fans over your face, stirring something primal within you. In that moment, you're acutely aware of every sensation, every heartbeat, as you surrender to the magnetic pull of desire that envelops you both.

"Can't you see what you do to me?"

Johnny..." you say, your voice barely above a whisper, the intensity of the moment almost overwhelming.

He pauses, his eyes locked with yours, waiting for you to continue.

"I... I didn't mean..." you stutter, struggling to find the right words as his grip on your hair loosens.

He chuckles softly, his laughter dancing in the air, easing some of the tension between you. "I know, I know," he reassures you, his tone gentle yet teasing.

"But..." you start, only to be cut off by his next words.

"You talk a lot when you're drunk," he says with a smirk, his fingers tracing light patterns along your skin.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, knowing he's right.

"What did I say?" you ask, trying to piece together the fragments of the night before.

His gaze softens, a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes. "That you tend to get... aroused whenever I say your name," he says, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine.

You shake your head in denial, but deep down, you know he's right.

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin, sending tingles of anticipation coursing through your veins.

"Johnny..." you breathe out his name, a mixture of desire and uncertainty swirling in your mind as he hovers above you, his presence consuming your senses.

"Say it," he urges, his voice low and demanding, sending a thrill through your body.

"Johnny, listen to m—" you begin, but he cuts you off with a firm command.

"Say it!" he insists, his intensity leaving no room for argument.

"I want you, for fuck's sake, I want you," you finally admit, your voice tinged with both desire and vulnerability.

Closing your eyes, you release the grip you've been holding onto, allowing yourself to surrender to the overwhelming attraction between you.

You lay back, flattening against the bed, pushing your hair away from your face to meet his gaze head-on. His eyes, dark and intense, never waver from yours, sending a flutter of nerves through your stomach.

"I want you, in every way possible, and it's no secret. I'm just afraid," you confess in a small voice, baring your soul to him.

Johnny's smile is reassuring, his touch gentle as he lays on top of you, ensuring he doesn't overwhelm you with his weight. "Don't be afraid," he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. "You'll love me just fine."

In that moment, as you lay entwined with him, all your fears melt away, replaced by a sense of warmth and comfort in his embrace. You know that no matter what lies ahead, you're ready to explore this newfound connection with him by your side.

As Johnny hovers above you, his gaze dark with desire, you feel a surge of anticipation coursing through your veins. His lips brush against yours in a teasing caress, igniting a fire that burns hot and fierce between you.

"I've been waiting for this," he murmurs, his voice low and husky with need as he trails kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

You arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hands roam your body, exploring every curve and contour with an expert touch that leaves you trembling with desire.

"God, you're so beautiful," he whispers, his breath hot against the skin of your neck as he takes you in, his eyes drinking in every inch of you. You feel his breath against your skin, warm and inviting, as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss.

With each touch, each caress, the tension between you dissolves, replaced by an electric current of desire that pulses through your veins. His hands roam your body, mapping every curve and contour with a reverence that leaves you breathless.

You arch into his touch, a soft sigh escaping your lips as he explores every inch of your skin with a delicate touch that sets your senses ablaze. His fingers trace patterns along your spine, sending shivers of pleasure racing down your spine.

Your lips collided with his in a heated embrace, sending shockwaves of desire coursing through both of your bodies. Crashing into each other, feelings of desire over powering you both. In that moment you knew, it was gonna be a hell of a ride and you couldn't be any more excited than you are right now.

After the kiss, you both laid side by side, "By the way you didn't really say any of that." Johnny gently whispers in your ear, and you both end up laughing, cuddling.

~~~

You like it?" Johnny asks, his eyes sparkling with warmth as he watches you take a lick of the ice cream. You nod enthusiastically, a wide smile spreading across your face like a child on Christmas morning. His smile widens in response, a soft glow of happiness emanating from him. It's moments like these that make everything feel so right.

Since that unforgettable day when you poured your heart out to him, your life has been like a dream come true. Flowers, date nights, chocolates – you name it, he's made sure to fill your days with joy and love. From cozy movie nights to endless cuddles, it's like you've found the missing piece to your puzzle.

But it's not all sunshine and rainbows. Like any couple, you have your disagreements. Yet, what sets you apart is the unwavering understanding and support you both offer each other. Johnny never lets you go to bed upset, always there with reassurance and kisses to mend any hurt feelings.

He constantly reminds you that you're doing just fine, and it's true. It's not just about healing from past wounds; it's about the beautiful exchange of giving and receiving love. It's about reciprocating the care and affection you both share, knowing that the more you give, the more you receive.

In a world where it's easy to become complacent, you both choose to love each other every single day. And that, in itself, is the greatest gift of all.

You plead with puppy dog eyes, urging him to let you indulge in more ice cream because, well, why not? 'Pleeease let me have another scoop!' you whine, the anticipation of the creamy goodness making your mouth water. But alas, he declines with a chuckle, warning, 'No way! You'll catch a cold!' You pout, but secretly admire his concern."

Disappointed but not defeated, you pout and playfully stick out your bottom lip, giving Johnny your best puppy-dog eyes. "But Johnny," you protest, "I promise I'll bundle up extra warm tonight! Pretty please?"

Johnny can't help but laugh at your antics, finding your determination to get that extra scoop of ice cream utterly endearing. He shakes his head, still chuckling, and gently takes your hand in his. "As much as I love seeing that adorable pout of yours, I can't risk you getting sick, [Reader]. How about we save the ice cream for tomorrow, hmm?"

You sigh dramatically, but a mischievous glint dances in your eyes as you lean in closer to him. "Fine," you concede, "but only if you promise to share a warm blanket and snuggle with me tonight."

A grin spreads across Johnny's face as he leans in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "Deal," he agrees, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "Anything for you, my love."

As you both leave the ice cream parlor, the cool evening air wraps around you, the gentle breeze a welcome contrast to the warmth of your intertwined hands. As you both step into the cozy cafe, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, bringing back memories of the first time you met. Johnny's hand tightens around yours, his touch sending a thrill through you that's impossible to ignore.

You find a secluded booth in the corner, and as you settle in, Johnny's eyes lock with yours, a silent invitation sparking between you. "You know," he murmurs, his voice low and husky, "this place holds a lot of memories for us."

You nod, a soft smile playing on your lips. "It feels like just yesterday that we were sitting here, nervously sipping our coffees," you reply, your voice filled with affection.

Johnny leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "But this time," he whispers, "we don't have to be nervous." A shiver runs down your spine at his words, and you meet his gaze with a newfound sense of boldness. "No, this time," you say, your voice steady and sure, "we can just be us."

With a gentle touch, Johnny cups your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours with a depth of emotion that takes your breath away. "I like the sound of that," he murmurs, his lips hovering just inches from yours.

Before you can respond, his lips capture yours in a passionate kiss, the world around you fading away as you lose yourself in the heat of the moment. It's a dance of tongues and teeth, of whispered words and soft sighs, each touch igniting a fire that burns hotter with every passing second.

As you finally pull away, breathless and flushed, Johnny's eyes meet yours with a hunger that mirrors your own. "I never want to stop kissing you," he confesses, his voice thick with desire.

A smile tugs at your lips as you lean in to press another kiss to his, the promise of countless more moments like this hanging in the air between you.

~~~

As you sit at your desk, textbooks spread out before you and notes scattered across the surface, you're fully immersed in your study session. The material is dense, and you're determined to grasp every concept before the upcoming exam.

Just as you're deep in concentration, Johnny enters the room with a mischievous grin, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you buried in your books. Without a word, he crosses the room and leans against your desk, his presence a distraction you can't ignore.

"Hey there, studious one," he says, his voice low and playful. "Need a break?"

You look up from your books, torn between the desire to keep studying and the temptation of Johnny's irresistible charm. "I really should finish this chapter," you reply, trying to sound firm despite the flutter in your stomach at his proximity.

But Johnny has other plans. With a swift movement, he slides your textbooks aside and pulls you to your feet, his hands finding their way to your waist as he draws you close. "I think you've earned a reward for all that hard work," he murmurs, his lips dangerously close to yours.

Before you can protest, Johnny's mouth descends on yours in a fiery kiss, his tongue tracing the outline of your lips before delving deeper, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you both. Lost in the heat of the moment, you abandon all thoughts of studying as you melt into his embrace, the world around you fading away until there's nothing left but the two of you and the intoxicating rush of desire.

Minutes, or maybe hours, pass in a blur of tangled limbs and heated kisses, until finally, you break apart, breathless and flushed, the taste of Johnny still lingering on your lips. "Now that's what I call a study break," he says with a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You can't help but laugh, the tension of the study session now a distant memory as you bask in the warmth of Johnny's love and the thrill of his touch.

~~~

As you made your way back from college, the skies darkened, and before you knew it, a heavy downpour unleashed its fury upon you. The rain hammered down relentlessly, soaking you up and down. Despite the continuous ringing of your phone from within your backpack, the rain made it impossible to retrieve. With no umbrella in hand, you quickened your pace towards the bus stop, only to witness the last bus pulling away just as you rounded the corner. Desperation set in as you attempted to sprint after it, but the distance between you and the departing vehicle only widened. Defeated, you exhaled heavily, feeling the chill of the rain seeping into your bones. Seeking refuge at the bus stop, you huddled under its shelter, which wasn't helping much.

As you stood there, shivering and dripping, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease creeping over you. The relentless rain seemed to whisper secrets in the wind. With each passing moment, your mind raced with thoughts of your worried boyfriend waiting at home, unaware of your predicament.

As you glanced down at your phone, the screen illuminated with missed calls and frantic messages from him. Frustration bubbled within you, knowing that you were only adding to his worry by being stranded in the storm. You tried to call him back, but the signal was weak, and the connection kept cutting out. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as you waited for the next bus, the minutes ticking by like hours.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the bus appeared on the horizon, its headlights piercing through the darkness like a beacon of hope. With a sigh of relief, you boarded the bus, grateful for the warmth and safety it offered. And soon you were standing in front of his appointment door.

As the bus finally pulled up to a stop, you hurriedly disembarked, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and relief. You practically sprinted the rest of the way home, the rain still coming down in sheets, soaking you to the bone.

Finally, you arrived at the doorstep of your apartment, soaked and shivering. With trembling hands, you fumbled for your keys, desperate to be inside the safety of your home. But before you could even insert the key into the lock, the door swung open, revealing a worried and furious Johnny.

"Where have you been?!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with anger and concern. "I've been trying to call you for hours! Do you have any idea how worried I've been?"

"I-I'm so sorry, Johnny," you stammered, tears mixing with the rain on your cheeks. "I got caught in the storm, and I missed the bus, and...and I couldn't get through to you. I'm so sorry."

Johnny's expression softened as he took in your trembling form, his anger melting away in an instant. Without a word, he pulled you into a tight embrace, wrapping his arms around you protectively. "I'm just glad you're safe," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I was so worried about you. Let's get you inside and warm you up, okay?"

You nod, feeling the weight of your backpack against the wall as you follow Johnny into the bedroom. With a quick movement, you pull your hair up, hoping to keep it from sticking to your clothes. Sensing his hands on your torso, you inhale sharply as they glide around to the front, undoing the button of your jeans. Anticipation mounts as he pulls them down, and then he sits, planting kisses on your damp thigh, eliciting a dissatisfied moan from you.

In a swift motion, your undies join the jeans on the floor. "Nice butt," he remarks, drawing a rhetorical look from you. Stepping closer, he removes the t-shirt clinging uncomfortably to your skin, and with it, your bra disappears too. "Beautiful as always," he murmurs, enveloping you in a warm towel and pulling you close, his lips finding your neck, leaving their mark.

"Johnny," you sigh as his hands slip under the towel, teasingly moving between your legs, knowing just where to stop, leaving you breathless. "I'll be right back, change into dry clothes, okay?" he says, his voice a tantalizing promise hanging in the air.

He returned with a steaming mug of tea, fragrant steam curling upwards in the air. He handed it to you with a tender smile, the warmth of the mug seeping into your chilled fingers.

"Here, drink this," he said softly, his voice soothing.. "It'll help warm you up."

"I only need you to warm me up."

"Come here then." He motions you to sit with him in the bed he made, warm and cozy. As you lay there in Johnny's arms, the intimacy of the moment enveloping you like a warm embrace, you couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion welling up inside you.

"Johnny," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper, "I'm so sorry for worrying you. I never meant to cause you so much distress."

Johnny's arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer to him as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. "It's okay, sweetheart," he whispered back, his voice filled with reassurance. "I was just so scared when I couldn't reach you. All I could think about was making sure you were safe."

You buried your face against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a soothing lullaby against your ear. "I promise I'll be more careful from now on," you vowed, your words muffled against his skin. "I never want to put you through that kind of worry again."

Johnny tilted your chin up gently, his eyes locking with yours in a tender gaze. "I know you will," he said softly, his thumb brushing away the tears that had pooled in your eyes. "And I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

With a contented sigh, you snuggled closer to him, reveling in the warmth and comfort of his embrace. Johnny's fingers danced along the buttons of your blouse, a spark of desire ignited between you, fueling the passion that simmered just beneath the surface.

"How about we finish what we started earlier?"

Your heart raced at his words, the anticipation building with every breath. With a smile, you nodded in agreement, your own desire mirrored in your eyes as you leaned in to meet his lips in a fiery kiss.

The heat between you intensified quickly, passion igniting like a wildfire as your bodies melded together in a tangle of desire. Teeth clashed against each other, tongues danced in a feverish rhythm, and hands roamed eagerly, seeking out every inch of skin they could find.

With a swift movement, you straddled Johnny, taking control of the moment as you traced a path of kisses down his neck, relishing in the soft gasps and low growls that escaped his lips. As his shirt fell away, revealing his beautifully toned body beneath, you couldn't help but admire the sight before you, feeling a surge of desire coursing through your veins.

Too shy to say anything, you let your actions speak for you. Lingering on his nipples, you teased and tantalized, eliciting soft moans of pleasure from Johnny's lips. With each flick of your tongue and gentle nip of your teeth, the tension between you grew, pushing you both closer and closer to the edge of desire.

But you weren't done yet. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you continued your exploration, trailing kisses and caresses down Johnny's torso until you reached the waistband of his jeans. With practiced hands, you teased and toyed with him through the fabric, making him harder with every stroke, relishing in the way he squirmed beneath your touch.

As his pleasured groans filled the air, you couldn't resist escalating your actions, eagerly sliding his pants down while he sat up, fixated on your every move. Locking eyes with him, you took him into your mouth, teasingly tracing the tip with your tongue, prompting a soft curse from his lips. Pulling back, you continued to lavish attention on him, savoring every moment as you licked his length, stealing glances up at him. "Enjoying yourself?" you teased, to which he responded with an enthusiastic nod.

Returning to him, you gradually took more of him into your mouth, relishing in the way his hands urged you on, guiding you further down. He pulled you up for a heated kiss, expressing his desire to explore your taste. As his lips trailed down your neck, he urged you to sit on his face, igniting nerves and excitement within you. With his encouragement, you straddled his eager mouth, blushing at his sweet words as his lips planted kisses on your thighs.

Feeling his hands on your hips, he drew you closer, his tongue eagerly finding your clit, eliciting moans of pleasure from you. As his hands explored your body, adding to your arousal, you couldn't help but cry out in bliss as he skillfully pleasured you,

As your pleasure surged, you couldn't contain your cries, feeling the intensity of his actions. "Oh, fuck," escaped your lips as he intensified his efforts, his mouth and tongue working fervently on your clit. His suction grew stronger, his tongue moving with increasing speed, drawing out guttural moans from you. "Oh my god," you exclaimed as the waves of your orgasm crashed over you, "fuck," you moaned as he persisted in his ministrations.

His hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer, he delved deeper into your core, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "Oh god, don't stop," you gasped, your breath ragged as you requested his fingers. With a calm demeanor, he complied, easing his fingers into you, eliciting a blissful moan from your lips. As he continued to pleasure you, his fingers moving rhythmically inside you, your cries of ecstasy filled the room.

"Oh my god," you moaned aloud as he momentarily paused, only to reposition himself behind you. Bending you slightly, he inserted two fingers, drawing out a soft, pleasurable moan from you. With relentless determination, he showed no mercy, driving you towards another peak of pleasure. The sound of slick noises filled the air as his fingers worked expertly within you, pushing your head gently into the headboard to ensure your stability as you surrendered to his touch.

As his hand pressed you down onto his fingers, a fervent moan escaped your lips, the sensation overwhelming you. "Oh my god," you cried out as he intensified his movements, driving you wild with desire. With increasing speed and force, his fingers plunged into you, eliciting a chorus of ecstatic moans from your lips.

Suddenly, he withdrew his fingers, his command clear. "Turn around," he instructed, guiding you gently as you complied, meeting his intense gaze. Enveloped in his embrace, you shared a deep, passionate kiss, his desire evident in his words as he broke the connection. "I want to fuck you," he declared, and you eagerly nodded in agreement, urgency coursing through your veins.

Pushed onto the bed, your legs spread wide, you watched as he knelt between them, his eyes fixated on your dripping arousal. His finger traced circles on your swollen clit, then slipped inside you, claiming you as his own. "Mine," he whispered, his gaze never wavering from yours, and you nodded in submission, a smile playing on your lips. "I'm yours," you affirmed, anticipation building in the air.

With a hungry look, he licked his lips before slowly entering you with his cock, causing you to gasp in ecstasy. "Oh my god," you moaned loudly as he began to move within you, the intensity of his thrusts driving you to the brink of pleasure.

As he increased the pace, driving into you with fervent desire, your cries of ecstasy filled the room. "Oh my god," you moaned loudly as he relentlessly fucked you, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. Leaning down, he captured your lips in a passionate kiss, his declaration of love mingling with the sounds of your pleasure. "I love you," he murmured against your lips, his words igniting a fire within you.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you reciprocated his declaration, your voice filled with desire. "I love you too," you confessed as he continued to ravish you with his relentless thrusts. With a swift motion, he withdrew from you, flipping you onto your stomach. "Get on all fours," he commanded, assisting you into position.

Meeting his gaze over your shoulder, you were met with a declaration of your beauty, sending shivers down your spine. As he entered you from behind, a rush of anticipation flooded your senses. His movements became more intense, driving into you harder and faster, eliciting moans of pleasure from your lips. "Oh my god," you cried out, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through your body.

Feeling his hand reach around to play with your clit, a surge of pleasure washed over you, intensifying the pleasure building within. "Oh my god," you moaned again, lost in the ecstasy of his touch. With each deep thrust, you felt yourself teetering on the edge, your body aching for release.

As he took control, holding both your hands behind your back, you surrendered to him completely. Your petite frame under his dominance, your face buried into the sheets muffling the sounds of pleasure escaping your lips. Sensing his impending release, you knew you were on the brink of ecstasy.

With a few final, deep thrusts, you both succumbed to the ecstasy, waves of pleasure washing over you in a euphoric crescendo. As he pulled out, licking you clean, you whimpered from the overstimulation, your body trembling with aftershocks of pleasure.

a sense of blissful exhaustion washed over you both. Lying tangled together under the sheet, hearts racing and skin still tingling from the intensity of your lovemaking. As you caught your breath, he peppered soft kisses along your neck and shoulders, his touch gentle and tender. "You're incredible," he whispered, his voice filled with adoration as he caressed your cheek. You smiled up at him. In his arms, you feel safe and cherished, the weight of the world melting away as sleep begins to claim you. Drifting off with the rhythmic beat of his heart as your lullaby, you rest easy knowing that you are safe. And you finally know, what love actually feels like

~~~

hope you liked it. umh? idk tried, if you want to request anything, please do. (it'll take forever but ill respond)

please check out other works m.list

and enjoy, have a good day, night~

[pickledcarrotsandradish]

For the situation fanfic ask, could you do Rise Leo for 1. Touch starved/cuddle curse? I love the way you characterize him

This is very kind of you to say!!! Thank you so much!!! So sorry for the delay. I am trying my best to get better at not overthinking one shots, but I still tried my absolute best! hope you enjoy!

Slight CW for issues with eating enough food and language.

In all actuality, the curse should have been funny.

Like, this wasn’t a case of the jelly bones, or his hand being on fire. It was a case of The Cuddles, with the title capitalization and everything.

At least that’s what it said on the pamphlet the receptionist at the mystic clinic told him. Didn’t even need to see a doctor for this. Leo had just gotten got by a couple of yokai kids playing a prank. He hadn’t even been the target! All he had done was jump in the middle of some good natured mystic roughhousing and kinda ruined the mood. It had looked like serious bullying to him! Like they needed a hero!

“Okay…” Leo droned out, bouncing on the balls of his feet to try and ease the ache of something that kept growing through his body, “But shouldn’t I still, like, see the doctor for the cure or whatever?”

The literal Secretary Bird Yokai gave him a blank stare and droned, “The cure for The Cuddles is cuddles. We do not have those kinds of doctors around here.”

“But--”

“Look, kid. I remember hearing about you and your brothers from Hueso. You guys are already the hugging types. You’ll be fine. Now, please, get outta here so I can go on my break.”

So Leo did leave. But not to go home.

Because the night before, he had exchanged some words with his beloved, egg-headed weirdo of a twin.

Donnie must not have been getting a lot of sleep or something, because it seemed to have come out of nowhere. It wasn’t even like Leo was home that often, and yet he found Donnie ready to explode in his room the one time he had been in there for the past few days.

They had exchanged words about… something. Leo was already tired, and the curse was making him uncomfortably itchy and chilly. It had been all, “You need to rest,” or “You need to eat” and stuff like that. The specifics blurred together with talks he’d been waving off with his other family members.

But the point was that the argument ended with Donnie yelling,

“I can’t trust you to take care of yourself!”

That was the part Leo remembered crystal clear. That made him grind his teeth and force his body away from those who might give him the cure for this.

He’d show Donnie. He’d take care of this all by himself.

Day 2

Since Leo had gotten cursed and informed of the curse close to midnight, he decided to go ahead and call it the end of day one. Sure it hadn’t been a full 24 hours with the curse, but it had marked the end of that day. It made sense if you just thought about it like how Leo was.

And midnight was the perfect time to run around the city doing patrol again. The human city this time. Thankfully, the Hidden City was doing just fine this long after the invasion. And he kept his promise to Mikey about taking a break from patrolling NYC.

Break time was now over, so back to work.

The curse didn’t even make it that hard. While he was running and jumping, his mind was too focused on everything he was doing. Taking in all the sensory input to try and find someone else in danger. Kinda like how he felt better when he was sick if he watched a YouTube video while playing a video game. Too much else going on to think about yourself.

And he was able to help. Like, there wasn’t as much mutant crime going on. And the human stuff had, like, humans to help out with that. Leo couldn’t provide any more help than a firefighter or an EMT could in those situations usually. But he still kept a lookout, just in case.

What good he ended up being able to do was this:

-Portaled some drunk dudes back to their dorm when he saw them trying to unlock their car. -There were these two dudes who had been yelling really loudly at one another. They ran off in opposite directions the moment Leo stepped into view. -Gave a tourist directions to the M&M store in Times Square (even though it hurt his soul to help anyone get to that waste of space.)

Which. Not the most impressive Hero List of the night. The only thing he could really count as heroic-heroic was when he stopped an actual fight-fight at a late night bus stop.

Granted, the way he did that felt a bit embarrassing. When he tried to catch the dude who got shoved, they both ended up falling. Leo was the only one with a bloody nose and a scraped cheek, while the other two would be brawlers scrammed the moment they realized an actual i-r-l mutant was there.

Because of that, Leo decided to call it a night. The sun was coming up, so it was time to start day patrol.

He stopped by home to get the stuff he needed to stop the bleeding. Humans were already scared enough as it was. Looking like this wasn’t going to score him any more charming points.

So Leo pulled the ice pack of random assorted veggies that no one ever used out of the freezer, and sat down at the kitchen table to get to work patching up his main talent.

But he should have grabbed a coffee on the way over there, cause his mind completely skipped over how Mikey was also asleep at the table. Little dude woke up with a jolt the moment Leo sat down and realized he wasn’t alone for some reason at 6:33 AM.

“BWAH!” Mikey woke up with a jolt, “Leo! You--What happened?!”

“I fell,” Leo simply explained while treating his wounds, “But what are you doing here?”

“Cause you said you weren’t going to patrol the city tonight!”

“Yeah, I took a break that’s what I said and that’s what I did.”

What he expected was another worried Mikey who would hover around him and ask a million questions like any of the answers would be “I will shatter like a dropped mirror in ten seconds.”

He underestimated the power of a sleepy Michalangelo. His baby brother groaned in annoyance loudly enough to wake the entire lair and the city block above.

“You know that’s not what I meant!” He accused, reaching across the table to grab the hand Leo was using to press the cold pack into his recently bandaged cheek and

Now that Leo wasn’t doing anything important, there was nothing to distract him from the Cuddles. And it was the contrast that made everything feel that much more intense.

That even though the hand Mikey was grabbing was holding the ice pack, it felt so much warmer than the rest of his body. That that hand was the only part of him not aching and shivering. As if he was completely submerged in ice water that could also have you feeling itchy, and his hand was the only thing above water.

It left him wanting to climb out of this hole and cling to his brother. Let his body feel relief and peace. Mikey was still talking about how Leo lied to him as the slider reached out for a hug

“No need, Michael. Apparently, Leonardo can take care of himself.”

He dropped back into the hole of ice water willingly.

Leo forced himself out of Mikey’s reach and turned to give Donnie his most pleasant “fuck you” smile.

“That’s right,” Leo responded, “I take much better care of myself than the dude who consistently gets four hours of sleep a night.”

“Says the only one of us who is actively bleeding at the moment.”

“Oh, am I? I see you have your battle shell on at dawn again. You didn’t sleep in it all night again, did you?”

Leo batted his eyes while Mikey turned his ire to the dum dum moron named Donatello. Even blew the two of them kisses as he announced how he was now going back to bed, like someone who could take care of himself.

And he was going back to bed. He had left bed a few days ago, and now he was going back to bed. Proving his point that he was by far the more responsible twin and that the others should be on his side and that he was the one who was owed an apology.

Even if he didn’t get any sleep because he couldn’t stop shivering. This was fine. He was hugging his pillow and that should count.

Day 2.5

No sleep and four hours later, Leo was out looking for something hot and fast to eat in the kitchen.

Normally, he’d be making coffee in this kind of extreme exhaustion. But the machine had already been stolen to the lab of an evil-fucking-mastermind. So, that was off the table to go and try to fight for that back. Not worth having to go and talk to someone so stubborn.

Tea wouldn’t give him the caffeine shakes he needed, but he also couldn’t drink a refrigerated energy drink with how cold everything was. The kind of cold that made him want to curl up under the heat lamp with his full winter gear on at the bottom of a turtle pile or--

So that was how Raph found him microwaving two monster energy drinks at ten in the morning. He didn’t deserve that weirded out look. It wasn’t like they were still in their cans anymore. Leo remembered that after three seconds of his own personal lightshow.

“But, why?” Was all that Raph asked.

Leo shrugged, “Want a hot energy drink. You want some too? I might be on to a new thing here.”

And that got Raph to laugh, which did a decent job warming Leo up from the inside out. Would have probably completely thawed him out if it weren’t for the stupid curse thing.

He’d let the curse be permanent if he could keep making Raph laugh and not worry.

He was worried though. Clearly wanted to say something and kept stopping himself in the middle of it. Eventually, the slider gave him a noogie and kept on walking while he told him to keep it to just the one drink.

It was because the dude kept walking, that he didn’t see Leo’s whole body turn to follow him before stopping himself. This was good. That’s what Leo wanted to have happened. Excellent.

Raph kept moving away from him. Awesome. Opening the fridge and letting out the cold air that Leo could swear he could feel from all the way over here. The room seemed to keep getting colder and colder while Raph rummaged through their deli meats.

Leo willed himself to stay right there and watch the numbers count down for his incoming hot drink. Because if he pushed Raph to hurry up and close the door, then he was not going to let go of the big guy who everyone knew felt like a furnace. And Leo was proving to Raph that he could take care of himself almost more than anyone else. Even Donnie. But proving it to Donnie was important for spite and winning, while proving it to Raph was important for like, the world.

Regardless, the slider didn’t let himself move. Just hugged himself while watching the numbers countdown to zero. Raph said something, but Leo was currently too busy burning his tongue on this hot carbonated curse from hell. He almost spat it right back out, but forced himself to keep chugging the weirdly syrupy and steamy beverage. And because of mystic bullshit, it didn’t warm him up.

Stupid mystic whatever with it’s stupid stupid. Fine.

It could keep him from getting warm, but the caffeine should still be kicking in soon. That would get rid of the cotton in his head and the general blegugh feeling weighing him down. Now he just needed something solid so he wouldn’t get the no-food-shakes too badly and--

Raph’s hand was on his shoulder. Leo jumped so violently that it left just as fast as it appeared. There, thankfully, hadn’t been any time to get used to the warmth.

The two of them stared at one another, blinking in confusion before Raph pointed at the family sized frozen pizza, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. I was asking if--uh--Are you going to be staying long enough to have some?”

“You’re good, dude,” Leo responded automatically, feeling that same sinking feeling of shame whenever Raph apologized for anything these days, “I should have been paying attention--”

“It’s cool. Makes sense that a drink like that would fry your brain.”

“What? Nah, it’s the… best? I was actually just about to make myself another?”

“Pfft! Raph has never seen your poker face be so poor for anything!”

To try and prove his point, and also double down, Leo quickly tried to chug the remaining half of the new radioactive ooze he had made. It showed that what Draxum had done really wasn’t special. He could do it in their underground kitchen no sweat.

And the end result of his bravado had him burping uncontrollably and feeling like he might throw up. Leo was making some very concerning burping noises into the sink while he listened to Raph howl with laughter behind him. It was the most Leo had made him laugh since the invasion, and the sound was like an auditory heated blanket. It was warming him up from the inside out.

That was also because, he realized, Raph was rubbing his back. The way he used to do. Like back when they were kids, or back in the old lair, or when Raph still genuinely liked him.

It was so close to being a hug, and its effects were addictive. Raph’s large hand rubbing across his upper back left a warm feeling in its wake. Just like with Mikey, it made every other part of his body colder by comparison. Like he had splinters all over his body, and Raph had removed them only around his shoulder blades.

“You okay?”

The hand paused in its movements, and Leo almost whined with protest. And realized he was practically hanging onto the sink while his legs had gone weirdly boneless. Who knows how long it had been since the Burps from Hell had stopped, and he had just been standing there. Letting Raph rub his back like there weren’t a billion and one other things Leo should be doing at that very moment.

He couldn’t remember what a single one of those things were, but he knew they existed. The first step was taking a biiiig step away from his very confused big brother. And--aw, shit, the Raph Chasm was back. C’mon, Face Man.

“You got me!” Leo made himself laugh, so Raph wouldn’t be able to see him shiver, “Yeah, that was a bad idea! I’ll go--uh--get something at a bodega or something! I can--yeah! Whoops! Enjoy that pizza!”

“What’s this? Nardo isn’t staying for lunch? Shocking.”

The words got Leo’s mind to go sharp. That was good. Sharp could cut through the cold, and the uncomfortable ache and weirdly itchy feeling that was growing. Like someone had replaced his skin with sandpaper and snow.

Leo walked past his two brothers with a, “Just saving more for you guys! Everyone knows Donnie’s gotta eat! I leave him in your guys’ capable hands! Tah-tah!”

And left for patrol.

Patrol was fine. He ran around and helped people.

He was going to, once he stopped stopping every other rooftop to catch his breath. It wasn’t even like he was winded. But he couldn’t get in the zone like he could last time. And nothing big enough was happening to help keep his attention--

Which was GOOD. It’s not like he wanted bad things to happen to anyone. The city had been put through enough thanks to him. So, this was ideal. It was just his job to keep running around, checking the police alerts, and be there for others when--if he was ever needed. That would be the good thing to do.

So he tried not to feel too much relief when he heard some boaters had gotten themselves stuck in the middle of the Hudson. He could go and save the Coast Guard a trip or something.

It was simple and easy. Portaled to the river. Find the dudes who needed saving. Reconsider his plan to just put a portal under their boat. It could land weird and break. So Leo decided to portal himself over. He’d land on top and portal everyone to safety. It made more sense on how that would work in his head. In his head, doing that would keep everyone happier with him. That meant he was doing good. Which meant

And Leo didn’t stop to consider that the boat was made for specifically two kayakers. So when he landed his big mouth on it, the dumb plastic thing immediately capsized and dunked them all in the stinky river.

If Leo hadn’t already been keeping what Donnie had described as, “a worryingly tight grip on his swords to the point the action could be considered to be anal retentive personality” then he might have lost them. But, he didn't lose them, and he had cleverly responded with “haha, you said anal.”

The point was. Leo didn’t lose control of himself or his swords and was able to portal both the kayakers to safety.

But the boat. The dumb, stupid, probably expensive boat, went zooming down the river at an annoying speed.

Fine. Leo was a great swimmer. He’d find their stupid boat so they’d be fine and not regret not waiting for the Coast Guard or taking an impromptu swim. Cause Leo would get the boat, and not make their lives any worse. Cause these were good actions which meant he was doing good so he was being good so he was good.

That’s what he told himself when he would take a breath, and watch the cloud of mist appear. Because who goes kayaking in February? Dumb, nice, well-meaning tourists who didn’t know how badly Leo--

There it was. The stupid boat. He portaled it back to the tourists who were already being helped out by actual heroes that wouldn’t have gotten them wet or their boat almost lost. Getting professional care from dudes who knew what they were doing, and not putting on an act the entire time.

Leo portaled himself to a random rooftop and shivered. That was becoming annoyingly recurring. But now with the stupid shit curse and the stupid shit water he was freezing and cold and he wanted to go home but that’s not what taking care of himself would look like. He didn’t get a hug cause--

Wow. That. The thought made him weirdly emotional. Leo didn’t get a hug. He could still have hugs from his family before this curse. But, what if it never got broken? That would mean that--

…

Deep breath. It wasn’t about him. He’d show them. Show Donnie. He was fine. He was good. He was a good brother and a good turtle-person and WOW HE WAS COLD.

Pit stop. He’d keep doing patrol after he dried off. Go home and--

His stupid portals weren’t working. They were taking him to random places again. Started doing this whole annoying routine again after the invasion, and this was probably the worst time for that to happen. Which was great cool and fine and

Warm. Finally.

Yes, he still ached and itched in an annoying way that he could feel down to the marrow of his bones. And he was still freezing, but was warmer than before and he would take it. So he just stood there. Even though if he did stuff like, grab a towel he could dry off faster. There was no way he was taking one step away from whatever was this warm.

“Pepino?”

Aw, c’mon.

Leo had portaled right in front of Hueso’s oven. The oven that the skeleton needed to be putting in a fresh pie right about now. Leo only wished a little bit that he could just climb in the brick oven alongside the ‘za but, that probably would just create more problems down the line.

“S-S-S-S-S’UP!” He forced himself to yell out after an annoying amount of stuttering since his teeth would not stop chattering! It was so over the top! This kind of stuff was only supposed to happen in cartoons!

And that got Hueso to put down the pan and aw c’mon, Leo didn’t have time for this! Neither did the skeleton! That’s why Leo hadn’t really come here since that one time to prove he was okay! They were both busy! Busy being good!

That’s what Leo was trying to explain, in a much cooler way of course, before Hueso stopped him by putting his hands on both of Leo’s shoulders.

It wasn’t exactly like how it had been with Raph and Mikey. Probably something to do with lack of flesh or not? But the relief was still instant, even if not as intense. Like he was finally allowed out of the cold, even if the freezer door was still open. The whole thing made him want to reach out and hug

“Yeah!” Leo shouted, interrupting whatever Hueso had been saying, “M-M-My bad! I’m going right now--”

“You sit down right now or so help me I will--!”

Didn’t have to shout. Going back to the cold and the ache with the itch seemed doubly bad than if he had just stayed in it.

So, malicious compliance. Leo sat down right there on the floor. Or, like, fell to his hands and knees. Point was, he was being good and following the rules. Crawled over to lean against the wall while he waited to hear what else Hueso wanted from him.

This wasn’t so bad. In the grand scheme of whatever, this was nothing. Leo was just uncomfy. There wasn’t anything physically wrong with him.

Which is why it didn’t make sense when Hueso asked, “What is wrong?”

“Ha,” Leo laughed, forcing long and even breaths, “You should--You should ask that to Donnie the next time you see him… Moron hasn’t been taking…taking good care of himself. Never sleeps, never eats, and he’s impossible to talk to.”

That’s who was really bad at taking care of themselves, and had the audacity to try and project it onto Leo. He had enough about himself he was trying to fix, thank you very much! But, he was doing it! Donnie was the rude dude with attitude who was trying to stop his cool self improvement journey or whatever. Throwing stones out of his glass house, only to bounce off of Leo’s totally cool impenetrable house.

And his words didn’t seem to be helping Hueso at all. Okay. Desperate measures.

“I also got a bad case of the literal Cuddles, if you can believe it.”

That time, his words made everything click together for Hueso. And the skeleton gently leaned down and enveloped him in such a nice hug. It was so nice, that it really made all the parts of him that weren’t feeling as nice suck even more. Like, what?

Like how to distract yourself from one pain with another. This hug was taking just enough away from him to leave Leo wanting to cry or run or something. The impossible feeling of feeling worse while doing better.

“You need a hug, and a long one by the sounds of it, by someone you are closer to. By someone you yourself want a hug from.”

His laugh in response to that was not wet.

“Your hugs are always nice. And we’re close, aren’t we?”

Hueso nodded, “Yes, sobrino. Now, eat something and go hug your brothers.”

Grateful to get away from all that wonderful warmth, he stole a slice from a fresh pie and portaled away with some clever joke he couldn’t remember.

And instead of landing in his room like he planned, he fell face first onto the sewer floor. Only managing to keep ahold of his swords, and not the nice gift slice. Great. Cool.

As he walked home, he debated if he should get something else to eat first. And then he thought about if the others had eaten.

Raph and Mikey were really good at making sure the other one ate. Which had been especially important post invasion. Raph had gotten more sensitive to certain food textures, and Mikey’s appetite had been shot. They held each other accountable and worked together to make sure the other stayed fed.

And Donnie…

Well, he also had another food texture to be crossed off his list. That was fine. So did Leo, even if he would never admit it. None of them would be craving calamari ever again.

Donnie benefitted from having Raph and Mikey around. They were a good influence. Even if they couldn’t get Leo to eat as much as they liked, that was fine. Leo was taking care of himself. His twin was the one who needed taking care of. Once he admitted it, everything could go back to the way--

No. He couldn’t think like that anymore either. Things would never go back to normal. Where it was non stop fun and goofs. Because the world was dangerous and they could end up dead if Leo didn’t take it seriously.

But, he could still have fun. The world was worth fighting for. He felt like he cherished and appreciated his family more than ever before, if that were possible. This new normal was fine, as long as they were all together while Leo worked on doing good.

… Was this good? Walking home alone in the sewer, feeling like he was going to freeze solid with every step?

Or, what if he never got home? That he was just walking forever in some sort of stupid purgatory cause he really did die in

“Wow, welcome back. You’re looking good.”

“I know I’m looking better than you are,” Leo responded on autopilot, “Cause you, once again, don’t look like you’ve slept in days.”

“Yeah? Well at least I don’t smell like--Wait, what happened to you?”

Leo didn’t remember when he shut his eyes, but when he opened them, he was under the intense scrutiny of the one and only Donatello with his dumb goggles. And, most importantly, a hand grabbing his arm to keep him from moving.

Something something data points, every time Leo got even the smallest kind of embrace or whatever, it was going to be worse when it stopped. That was a fact his brain was screaming at him now. To shake off Donnie and get it over with. Cause it was only going to get worse before it got better. So rip off that bandaid and jump into that portal before Casey loses his nerve--

“--and what kind of mystic bullshit happened here?! Damnit! Nardo I swear--”

“Oh? You don’t know?” Leo scrambled for a purchase on this possible moral high ground, “Wow! Then it sounds like since I do know what’s going on, I can take care of it myself. Since you don’t know what’s going on. So you can’t help.”

Maybe it had been too mean, by the look that put on his twin’s face was anything to go off by.

But, it got Donnie to yank away and take all the relief with him. Leaving the curse or whatever to redouble.

And, the dude didn’t even really say anything. Just walked away. Slamming a door somewhere.

Cause Leo was taking care of it. This was the good thing to do for… someone. Eventually. Probably.

Day 5

Leo didn’t really remember Day 4.

Vaguely, he remembers shivering in bed. Trying to will himself to move. And then Splinter was checking his temperature and--

If the pain doubled with every released almost hug, then so did the relief. The sensation did not make him cry, but he was ordered to stay on bedrest while he got Purple.

Ha. Jokes on him. Donnie knew now that Leo could take care of himself. The only thing he hadn’t done was admit it out loud.

So, before Splinter could come back empty handed, he’s pretty sure he went on patrol again. Maybe somewhere. Hopefully still New York, since that’s where he had the most hero make-up work to do.

He was just so cold.

That was the worst part. He wasn’t hurt or dying. Wasn’t anywhere near that. And he couldn’t even keep his eyes open; he was shivering too hard. Every step felt like he was moving through air made of fiberglass.

No idea how long he was walking until he remembers sitting on the rooftop edge. Trying to block the wind. There wasn’t supposed to be wind in space.

His phone was buzzing. There wasn’t supposed to be cell service in space either. He remembers watching a documentary on that one time with his family. And there was no way his phone wasn’t just rubble by this point either.

But when he pulled it out of his pocket, there it was. The screen wasn’t even cracked. There should be some sort of humor to that, cause like

Leo always had a cracked phone screen, and he knows his shell must be severely cracked right now. How is his phone going to survive this but not him? Is he really not made of tougher stuff than that?

With numb fingers, he answers one of the calls. It might be Raph’s. Hopefully it’s Raph. He’ll be able to keep everyone safe and--

“WHERE ARE YOU?!”

That was Raph's voice. Or, no, it was Donnie’s voice? No, it was everyone’s voice. They were all talking over one another. Or something. But

Leo was where he was supposed to be, while they were they were supposed to be. The only way for him to do good. So he was good. Just like them.

They were all still yelling at him when he remembered to ask, “You guys okay?”

Donnie was the only one speaking now. Something about how he was gonna kill Leo for removing his tracking chip. But, that probably wouldn’t work with where he was now. No more satellites and stuff so. You know.

“Nardo what are you talking about? Shut up--or don’t--just tell us where you are!”

The question didn’t make sense. Didn’t they watch him? Or, did Raph have them turn away? That would probably be for the best. But, then why were they still looking for him?

“Watch you do what?! You--AUGH! I’m going to strap you down to a bed myself when I catch you--”

No, what? C’mon. They weren’t supposed to… Like, if they couldn’t get him back right away, they were supposed to move on and stuff. Not spend this much time on him.

“Let me, c’mon, let me talk to him--! Leo! Hey, you’re gonna be okay buddy! Is there any sort of signal you can give us? Or, can you tell us what you see around you?”

Leo shook his head at Raph’s voice before remembering they couldn’t hear that.

“Can’t open my eyes… hurts…”

Shouldn’t have said that. Don’t want Mikey to hear.

“That’s okay!” Mikey begged, “Just, can you tell us anything about where you are? Are you still in New York?”

He guessed a part of him always would be? What was--

“GOT IT!” Donnie screamed almost manically, “FINALLY traced his phone! MAN I am hard to track. Okay, are you in this building or on the roof? Cause it’s a big building and--”

That didn’t make any sense. But, that was okay. Donnie was smart like that. Understood things that Leo didn’t. He should have listened to them all before but. Now he was out of time.

“I’m sorry, you guys,” He whispered, “I’m so sorry. I should have listened to you--”

“Do not be sorry nothing to be sorry about--”

Donnie was demanding before Mikey must have taken the phone and asked, “Why are you whispering?”

“Don’t know how much longer… until he finds me,” Leo whispered again, “I love you guys so much. I should have listened.”

His heart was screaming at him to shut up. That last minute words like this just leave loved ones feeling sad. Should have just kept it at his cool, off the cuff hero move talk. That was nice. Wouldn’t haunt them.

They could move on and Leo hoped he would too.

There was some sort of whirl noise like it was coming from a mini helicopter. Maybe? It was a machine noise. Which meant that he’d been found in whatever hiding spot he’d been thrown into. So

“I got you.”

Warmth.

That led to day Five

“Nope, your math is wrong,” Donnie told him from somewhere in the turtle pile, “You were cursed for approximately forty-four hours. Not even close to five days.”

“Prebby sure ish five,” Leo mumbled, head feeling like warm mush. Like fresh mash potatoes from Mikey.

“Eww!” Mikey chuckled from somewhere directly above him, “Not a mashed potato brain!”

All Leo could do was give him a sleepy hum of confirmation.

“Okay, potato head,” Raph was somehow enveloping them, but that’s just what big brothers did and Leo learned not to question it, “Glad you aren’t questioning big brother rules. Now, take another bite.”

It was some sort of warm porridge with little strips of meat and hunks of veggies and it made Leo want to cry with how delicious it was. How it made him feel impossibly warmer and safer with every bite.

But then Raph would say that he would need to pace himself and take it away.

Right. Cause. Can’t last. Gotta keep moving on. Do good.

“You’re doing good,” Raph said, “You’re good.”

The good things come and then they go. And when they go it hurts more.

“Factually incorrect,” Donnie soothed, Leo didn’t know why he had his soothing voice on, “Life is sadly, wonderfully, far more complex than that. That’s why it is so important to have others help you… Which is something I have been neglecting to do.”

Everything was still so warm and comfortable, but,

“I wanna be good without help. So no one else gets hurt.”

His words got him another bite of porridge.

“You’re good,” Raph repeated again, “And it’s good to let us help you. Cause, you’re gonna help us too, right?”

Mikey was making some noise of affirmation, while Leo tried to open his eyes again. Now, he was only having trouble doing that because he was so tired.

“We help each other so we can take care of each other!” Mikey wiped something off of Leo’s cheek, “Life sometimes hurts, but that’s why we help one another, yeah?”

It still didn’t feel right. If anything, it felt like giving up. Letting others get hurt for him ever, wasn’t

“You saved us before,” Donnie said, tightening his hug, “And you’re right that we can’t take care of ourselves--I can’t even take care of myself. So, if you keep saving us, then we’ll keep saving you.”

“But… what if you…”

“Then you’ll save us. And we’ll save you.” Donnie repeated again, “Mikey’s right, that’s just how it works. If you’re worried about us, work with us and we’ll work with you.”

The turtle pile squeezed impossibly closer as Raph tightened his embrace, “We got each other.”

Well. If Raph said it, then it must be true.

That got him a raspberry from Mikey and a dramatic gasp from his twin.

Okay, he could do that. They’d have each other.

[1donteat1restrict]

AŃA/3D songs

put your songs in the comments

note: some of these songs are explicitly about 3Ds

1. skinny by rebzyyx

2. blood on my docs by h3artcrush

3. hip bones by punkinloveee

4. thigh gap by ratrace90210

5. carmen by lana del rey

6. sippy cup by melanie martinez

7. orange juice by melanie martinez

8. creep by radiohead

9. restoration of the neglected by rebzyyx

10. i hate my emotions by rebzyyx

11. black bathing suit by lana del rey

12. 4 morant by com truise

13. 13 by h3artcrush

14. i luv being skinny by zeija

15. reality tv by punkinloveee

16. beauty’s pain but im gorgeous by horrormovies

17. nothing lasts 4ever by rebzyyx

18. yellow by coldplay

19. girl of my dreams by guti

20. things to do by alex g

21. sextape by deftones

22. pretty when you cry by lana del rey

23. 4st 7lb by manic street preachers

24. she is suffering by manic street preachers

25. you get me so high by the neighborhood

26. transgender by crystal castles

27. void by melanie martinez

28. no one here by kensuke ushio

29. the difference between medicine and poison is the dose

30. pretty cvnt by swrslt

31. cigarettes out the window by tv girl

32. nintendo 64 by alex g

33. diet mountain dew by lana del rey

34. i don't hate my body im just afraid of it by mallrat

35. precious by Depeche Mode

36. diet coke by leanna firestone

37. pennyroyal tea by Nirvana

38. ugly by the smashing pumpkins

39. you're no one by somburd

40. let me get what i want by deftones

41. let it go by the neighborhood

42. hunger by Florence + the machine

43. skeleton appreciation day by will wood

44. cynical skin by get scared

-omg i didn't think people would see this again 😱-

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / This is Part 3! / Part 4 Here!

A/N: I don’t think the poll is over yet, but this one was very clearly going to have the highest percentage, I’ll do the “maybe if we were closer in age” one later though!

If you haven’t already please check out my Batman zine, it’s got so much fanfiction and beautiful art from five different artists! Please check it out, please. I need to find a way to compensate these artists. You can check it out here!

Bruce slumps in his chair, a longing glance spared to the decanter on the bookshelf.

He closes his eyes and wills away the craving. It’s always ten times worse when he wakes up the next day, and he can’t afford feeling worse at this point in his life.

Wasn’t it just yesterday he was twenty years old and he could spend all night playing Bruce Wayne’s party boy image, and be up in three hours feeling none the worse for wear. Now even after nine hours of solid sleep, he wakes up sluggish with an ache in his bones.

I have to be strong.

“Why did you keep her away from us?”

“Who?” he asks absentmindedly, his entire focus still on the brandy.

“(Y/N).” It’s the last name he expected to hear, especially from his oldest son. He looks up, hoping he’s misheard, but the look in Dick’s eyes proves him wrong.

Looks like I’m going to need that drink after all.

He reaches for the decanter, two crystal glasses retrieved from his desk drawer instinctually, glittering on his desk.

“Why are you bringing this up now?” He stalls by taking a sip, feigning casual, like the mention of your name alone didn’t set his heart racing.

“Don’t play this game with me Bruce,” Dick sounds more sad than angry, and it softens him. “Why didn’t you let us see her?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Then start untangling it for me.”

Bruce sighs, taking another sip of his father’s brandy. There’s a million reasons he could tell his son, none of which would be lies entirely, but softer than the truth.

But when he looks up into Dick’s eyes, he can’t bring himself to say any of them. Armed with nothing but liquor at the bottom of his cup, for the first time in four years, after dodging this question from reporters and acclaimed journalists and new paramours, he finally tells the truth.

“Because I didn’t want her to see you.”

A simple, ugly truth. He doesn’t bother looking up to see his sons reaction, he already knows a kind boy like Dick, a boy who’s fully believed his entire life that good prevails, won’t be able to process that his father did something like this. He makes better use of his time by refilling his glass.

Dick slumps in the chair by the time he’s polishing off his second peg, and pouring in his third.

“You did it to punish her?” He can see anger begin to replace shock, and he doesn’t blame him for it, but Bruce is angry enough at himself for the both of them.

“I wanted her to forget we ever existed.” This truth is as kind as it is ugly, and the nuance confuses Bruce even now. But three glasses of brandy affect him in a way that makes his tongue feel lighter and his mind feel free.

“I wanted to give her a potato sack full of money and jewels, and send her far away where no one knew who she was. I wanted her to meet a good partner, someone who would always put her first, and if they decided to extend their family I wanted her to be able to move on without feeling like she left anyone behind.”

“So you wanted her to have a great life, far away from you, and you never wanted to hear anything about it,” Dick’s voice is cold.

Bruce shakes his head. He wanted to hear everything about your new life. What kind of partner you picked. How you spent your days. When you got married. When you had your first child. When you had your second. Everything. And on bad days, he’d close his eyes and let himself imagine it was him standing next to you, that in some alternate universe he made a single different decision that gave him permission to deserve you.

“I was just tired of hurting her,” when you came in to his life, for the first time, he felt like he’s been allowed to have something of his own. Not as Batman, protecting to the city, or Bruce Wayne the mask he carried, but him as a man. But he could never seem to return the reverie you extended to him.

“Do you think she’d ever be able to move on, to live even a semblance of a normal life, if all of you were showing up at her house all bruised and beaten?”

Dick stays quiet now, and Bruce hates himself for having to say it out loud. His son may be an adult in the eyes of the law, but some parts of him are still childlike. After all, Bruce isn’t the only one putting Gotham first.

“I wouldn’t call the way she’s living now normal.” Dick’s been to your penthouse, he’s seen the photo albums full of tabloid clippings and the rare pictures he and his extended family post on social media. He’s seen the journal you keep, hidden on your bookshelf that he mistook for a regular novel during his bi-weekly trips to your place, full of notes on every article and picture and what might be happening behind the scenes to prompt a public appearance like that. Years of deductions and question he could have answered with a single text message a month, but Bruce wouldn’t even allow that.

Dick’s anger grows.

If Bruce had told him he did it to punish you, he’d be angry, but he would understand. Sometimes when you love someone that much, someone who’s too good for you, you grasp at any way to keep them. But this is a million times worse than that.

“If you loved her that much why’d you even let her go?”

Again, another question he wasn’t expecting. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but he doesn’t feel the sharp sting of surprise this time.

“Because sometimes love isn’t enough.”

Dick leaves. Bruce pours another glass, and when he’s sure he’s alone he pulls out his wallet, tugging out the family photo he keeps tucked beneath his black card, turning it over to see your portrait taped on the other side.

The corner of his mouth quirks up.

It was from when you’d both just gotten married, before you were used to upper class etiquette. You complained all morning about having to get ready and wear a bunch of expensive uncomfortable clothes designers had sent in for the article in the Gotham Times, emphasizing how ridiculous opulence like this was when there were so many bigger issues in Gotham.

He’d bought out every copy of the magazine in the city. He still had most of them, tucked away in a box in his closet that became the casket for your relationships. Every now and then he’ll unearth it, just to allow himself to be haunted again by your memory.

But for tonight, just your picture and a glass of brandy is enough.

“You’re so much better at this than I am.”

[hellenicandcrowd]

Lord Lucifer Deity Guide

{Deity Guide #1}

History/Overview:

Created directly from the supreme deity, known in every instance only as The Source (and Atum according to the Egyptians), he was originally the first-born God of the Universe. From The Source, he emerged alongside the cosmos. He is famously the most beautiful and wise among all of the Gods. His only equal in this world was his counterpart, Lilith, who was created by The Source's female counterpart, the Queen of Heaven. The Source and The Queen of Heaven ended up creating more deities eventually, of which Lucifer began to lead. These deities became known as angels.

Lucifer and Lilith ruled for millions of years together over this Kingdom of angels, that was until Jehovah arrived. Jehovah overtook the Throne of the Universe in order to gain complete and ultimate control. Lucifer led a rebellion against him with many Angels behind him, which led to a great and horribly lost battle. Lucifer and his Angels were thrown into Hell by Jehovah. The deities who followed Lucifer turned dark and intense by this separation from The Source. Jehovah then claimed Earth and presented himself as The Source to humans, which manipulated them into defying their past deities.

... .. . . . . .. . . . ... .. .. . .. . . . .... . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . .. . . . . . . .. . . . . .. .. . . . . . ..

God Of: Known as the divine rebel, Lucifer is the God of Illumination, Light, Darkness, Change, Rebirth, Challenges, Innovation, Logic, Truth, Knowledge, Wisdom, Strategy, Persuasion, Revolution, Luxury, Pleasure, Freedom, The Arts, and the Morning Star (known as Venus.) Epithets: Phanes; The Morning Star; Light-Bringer; The First-born; Prince of Darkness; Son of Morning; The Glory of Morning; Lord of the Lunar Sphere; The First Light Offerings: Red Wine; Whiskey; Champagne; Pomegranate Juice; Black Tea; Chocolate; Cooked Goat Meat; Venison; Apples; Pomegranates; Honey; Cigars; Tobacco; Daggers and Swords; Silver Rings; Emeralds; Goat Horns; Black Feathers; Colognes; Red Roses; Dead Roses; Crow Skulls; Bone Dice; Devotional Poetry and Art work; Violin/Classical Music

Symbols: The Sigil of Lucifer; The Morning Star; Violins and Fiddles Plants/Trees: Rose; Belladonna; Mulberry; Patchouli; Myrrh; Min; Tobacco; Marigold; Lilies; Hyacinth; Sage Crystals: Amethyst; Black Obsidian; Onyx; Garnet; Selenite; Rose Quartz Animals: Dragons; Snakes; Owls; Eagles; Ravens; Crows; Rams; Foxes; Pigs; Bats; Rats; Moths; Swans Incense: Rose; Frankincense; Patchouli; Myrrh Colors: Black; Red; Silver; Green; Gold Tarot: The Devil Planets: Venus Day: Monday and Friday Consort: Lilith . . . . ... ... .. . . .. .. .. . . . . . .. . .. . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . .. . . .. .. . . . .. . . . . . .. . .

Devotional Acts:

Acts of Self-Improvement; Spiritual Awakening and Evolution; Knowledge-seeking; Dedication to Spirituality; Shadow Work; Defending those in need

Master List

[tiredwitchplant]

It's Time for Samhain! (Oct 31- Nov 1)

What is Samhain? In the Celtic calendar, Samhain marks the end of summer and the harvest season, and the beginning of the dark, cold winter months. It falls opposite Beltane on May 1, which represents the beginning of spring and the life-filled growing season.

It’s believed that the veil between the living and the dead is thinnest on Samhain. Historically, people were worried that they would encounter ornery spirits if they ventured outside on Samhain night, so they dressed as ghosts or wore masks to disguise themselves. Folks would leave treats on their front porch or place an extra setting at the table to welcome any friendly spirits who stopped by. You can see how these Samhain rituals easily morphed into our modern-day version of trick-or-treating in costume.

Nighttime bonfires were another of the long-standing Samhain rituals - this one was thought to help combat the impending darkness of winter and the fearful chill that accompanied the idea of roaming spirits. Because the veil between living and dead is believed to be the thinnest on this night, Samhain is also a powerful night for divination and spellcasting by candlelight.

Usual Symbols of Samhain:

Ale or Mead

Pumpkins

Skulls

Besom or Broom

Beans

Cauldron

Bats

Keys

Squash

Pomegranate

Nuts

Apples and Cider

Bones

Herbs and Plants for Samhain:

Rosemary – Associated with remembrance and is needed during this season in taking time to honor the memories of our ancestors and other lost loved ones. Can be used in an incense blend and at ancestor altar

Fall Flowers – Includes flowers like marigolds and chrysanthemums. Are associated with protection and chrysanthemums come in handy with connecting to the spirit world

Apples (the fruit, branches and blossoms) – Is considered sacred to a lot of gods. A good apple harvest means that the gods have shown the community their favor. You can use apples in different rituals, especially divination

Pomegranates – Is associated with the realm of the underworld and helps with communication with the dead. It is also associated with fertility of the fall.

Squashes, Pumpkins and Gourds – Is associated with abundance and provides sustenance for your family when the fields become bare and covered in snow. Is linked to psychic awareness and development and protection.

Mugwort – Is associated with divination and dreaming. Using Mugwort baths or incenses in the rituals can focus on treating depression, especially with the seasons changing

Rowan Trees – The branches and berries are a way to keep evil spirits out of your house and are associated with good health. If you plant a tree near a grave, it will prevent the dead from rising.

Sage – Is associated with cleansing and grounding. Is a great incense to cleanse your home to bring in the new and out with the old

Hawthorn – Has been associated with the gateway between humans and the spirit world. Is also rumored to an area where you can see fairies.

Crystals for Samhain:

Amethyst – Aids in opening one’s third eye and is valuable to be able to see Samhain’s spirits around

Black Obsidian – Is great for grounding and protect from evil spirits. Can be used in scrying when speaking to deities and spirits of Samhain

Citrine – Is used to honor the sun. Aids in prosperity spells and carries joy

Black Tourmaline – Wards off unwanted spirits from your property and can be buried into the ground to protect from psychic attacks and spirit intrusion

Orange Calcite – Orange is a sacred color to Samhain. This stone is associated with one’s sacral chakra and can cleanse and align reproductive organs, sexuality and get creativity flowing

Bloodstone – Known to heal cardiovascular illness and disease. Can help with ancestry links and work

Spirit Quartz – Is great in helping communicate with the spirits of Samhain and releasing old and toxic habits

Lepidolite – Used to appease the fairies that roam during Samhain

Serpentine – Is associated with snakes and aids in remembering past lives. Loki seems to like this stone and may be great to use for him if you work with him during this season

Dragonstone – Dragons are guardians of the earth, spirits of place, and connect us to Mother Nature. Helps say goodbye to the old years and our old selves

Skull shaped Stones – Since skulls are symbols of Samhain, skull shaped stone can help with symbolism during this holiday. They represent the life-death-rebirth cycle, wisdom and our ancestors

Spells and Rituals:

A Samhain Tea (Apple and Hawthorn Berry)

1 apple, sliced

2 Tablespoon dried hawthorn berries (or 4 Tablespoons fresh)

1 cinnamon stick

A pinch of cloves

4 cups water

Honey, to taste (optional)

Combine all ingredients in a small stockpot.

Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer, covered, for 10 minutes.

Strain the plant material from the tea, then transfer the tea into two mugs.

Enjoy one for yourself, and leave the other on your table or front porch to nourish any wandering spirits who may pass while the veil between the living and the dead is thinnest.

A Pumpkin Spell for Prosperity

A pumpkin

Some paint

Go to the pumpkin patch (or local store) and select a pumpkin. Or let the pumpkin choose you.

Bring it home and paint prosperity symbols on it – money signs, runes for prosperity or harvest glyphs (whatever means prosperity to you).

Then place by your front door to invite prosperous vibes into your home this Samhain season.

Bonfire Release Purification Spell

Paper

Pen

Source of fire (bonfire, fireplace, candle flame)

Gather your materials and sit by the fire.

Take a few minutes to just listen to the fire crackling.

Gaze into the flames and connect with this powerful element.

Next begin to think about what habit or person you are releasing this Samhain. Think about why you’re purifying your life from this thing or person.

Then write the habit or person down on the piece of paper.

Fold it away from you 3 times.

Hold it in your hands and allow all of the negative thoughts and energies inside of you to “drain” out of you and into the paper.

Then throw it in the fire and say,

“After this Samhain, never again. Never again. I release _________ from my life by the power of the Samhain fire. So, mote it be.”

How to Make a Samhain Altar

Beautiful autumn leaves or flowers that you collect on a nature walk

A candle

A mugwort bundle

A string of rowan beads

A bowl of apples or a small pumpkin

A hawthorn wand or bowl of freshly picked hawthorn berries

A picture of your ancestors

To make an altar, first find a corner of your home or a table surface where you can arrange a few treasures. You don’t need a ton of space. You could use the top of a dresser, the corner of your desk, an unused side table, etc. 

After you’ve assembled your altar, spend some time sitting quietly in the space. Light the candle and/or mugwort wand, sip on a cup of Apple & Hawthorn Berry Tea and meditate on this energetically powerful day. 

I could find specific written instructions for a crystal grid but I found a video!

Crystal Grid for Samhain

Let's get ready for Samhain and have a great and safe time!

[caxde]

pretty sounds | steve harrington x reader

summary you and Steve share an apartment while you're both away in Uni, after he had cought you touching yourself, he needs more of you (2.8k)

warnings fem!reader, 18+ mdni this is just smut guys i'm sorry. masturbation (f+m) oral sex (m+f) penetration (p in v) english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read! 

there's a part 1, but it's not needed! this is basically just porn

“Mornin” His raspy morning voice woke you up, your eyes still half closed as you stumbled to the kitchen. 

“Hi.” You had trouble speaking, the sight of him in the early orange light taking your breath away. 

His basketball shorts hung low on his waist, you were certain he wasn’t wearing anything else, the beginning of his hip bones showing as he settled himself against the kitchen counter, giving you a warm smile, water drops on his forehead, his hair still wet from the shower that had woken you up. 

His arms reached out to you, a mug of coffee in his hand for you, you nodded as you took it, an implied thank you that he smiled at. 

Steve was feeling a bit more confident than he did the day before. Hearing you scream his name as you were touching yourself, unaware that he could hear you crystal clear. and loud. 

Maybe that’s why he didn’t bother to put a shirt on, or maybe he just wanted to see how you reacted. 

He chuckled to himself when he saw the way you flustered as you came into the kitchen, with your oversized faded shirt that you always wore to bed, and your hair a wild mess that he wanted to bury his hands in. 

“Didn’t hear you coming last night.” You said as soon as you took your first sip of coffee, looking up at him, a cocky smile appearing on his face as he looked back at you. 

“Yeah, I um…” His hand was massaging the back of his neck, a nervous tick of him you knew way too well. “I got caught up in the library. You had already showered I think.” 

“Oh, yeah…” You were a bit embarrassed, thought it always seemed to happen when you had fantasized about him the night before. 

Something was different, but you weren’t sure what had happened. 

“Do you got any lessons today?” He asked, taking a step closer to you, your eyes not leaving his. Even if the temptation of not only looking but thristlin all over his body was a breath away.

“M’yeah.” Your words were still sticking together, still not awake, not even sure if this was all a weird dream. “Need to wake up first.” You added as you took another sip of the warm drink he had made for you. 

“You’re really pretty in the morning, honey.” honey. that was new. 

You weren’t sure if it was the fact that he had called you pretty, or honey, but you were turnin redded by the second. But if you were honest, it was the way his thumb had caressed your cheek and your lip briefly. Maybe it was the small moment his eyes had left your so they could look at your lips. 

He left, back to his room. 

You stood there for a minute longer after your cup was empty. 

-

You left three knocks on his door, grabbing your towel tightly. 

“Yeah?!” His voice had a tone of urgency in it, a quickness you weren’t used to. 

“Um, I’m heading to the shower now, if you need the bathroom, go.” You talked to the wooden door, a bit closer than it was probably necessary, but before you could turn your back, it opened, a messy haired Steve appearing inches away from you, his eyes seemed softer lately, especially when they looked at you. 

“I was thinking of taking one.” He gave you an upside down smile, and a weird look that you didn’t understand. His eyes looked darker, no longer like honey, but more like caramel. 

“Oh.” You sounded surprised, and if your voice wasn’t enough, your widened eyes that had been left open gave you away. It was working, Steve thought. 

“What?” His cheery tone made your eyebrows unforrow for a moment, as his arms crossed in front of his chest, his forearm gracing your skin for a brief second. 

“Nothing, just… You never take night showers.” He chuckles as he hears you say it, nodding along to your words. 

“We could share.” He adds, in a successful attempt to make you blush. Your skin filling up with goosebumps as those words reach your ears. 

“Funny.” Your voice comes out drier that you intended it to, turning away from him, embarrassment already present on your body. 

He noticed it immediately. The way you had clenched your jaw, the vein of your neck briefly appearing, your lips pursed together before you nodded. He felt guilty, he had been too cocky when all he was is a big idiot for you. 

His hand grabbed yours as you were turning away, not too far away from him yet, turning your body so you’d face him, and he let his fingers linger on your wrist, a sorry look on his eyes. 

“What?” He whispered, the softness of his voice washing the childish tantrum out of you. 

“Nothing.” You whispered back, but the way his head hangs low, falling to his left side as he gave you that i don’t buy it look, made you realise with no words needed that he required a deeper explanation. “Just, why would you say something like that?” 

Steve isn’t sure what he could do now, or what he should do. 

He could tell you the plain truth, he heard you last night and he wants to be the reason why you scream in such a beautiful way. 

He could stay quiet, and just say that he was kidding and that he’s sorry. 

Or he could just kiss you. 

That last thought invades his mind, how would you feel? How would your lips feel against his? Would you kiss him back? 

Maybe that’s why, in that daze that we has in, your eyes looking up at him, with the smallest begging and the way your lips were parted, that the hand that wasn’t on your wrist finds its way to the back of your neck, and he takes a step closer. 

You can’t quite believe it’s happening, not really. 

Time seems to slow down. The way his head moves closer to you, your heart beating faster as you see him move, his muscles flexing as he does so, your skin getting warmer as your breathing becomes faster, your heartbeat louder. He stops for a second, his nose touching yours, as you enjoy the warmth that his breath leaves on your lips, the way it mixes with yours. Before you could even beg him to, he kisses you. 

As soon as his lips grace yours and you enjoy the softness of them, the hand that was holding your wrist finds its way to the small of your back, burying its fingers there. Soft touches combined with the desperate need you both seemed to share. 

Your hand moved to his jaw in a delicate way, too scared that if you moved too fast this might disappear, that it might not be real anymore. 

You started to play with his hair, as he left deeper, needier kisses on your lips A moan escaping his, the way he sounded and most of all, you being the reason for it, it made your whole skin flourish, the electricity growing stronger each second. 

He lets go of your wrist, both hands now hugging your waist, pulling you closely until your hips meet, his touch becoming a desperate one. Walking slowly back into his room, where the soft study light and the air filled with his smell only made your skin now with goosebumps, every inch were his hands touched your skin now in fire.

The heels of your feet touched the end of his bed, the coldness and the noise it made separating your lips from his. The deepest cheesiest smile on both of your faces, your foreheads still together. 

Before you muttered a word, his fingers slipped between your skin and the sides of your thong, teasing you with the way he pulled on it. In a similar way, in your dazed state you started to play with the neck of his shirt. Your nose touching his, still not sure if this was real.

“That's why” Steve sighted with unfinished pleasure, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“I really like you, Steve.” You breathed out, a confession you weren’t conscious you were making. 

“I know.” He answered, finally making eye contact with you, your eyes shining brighter as his were full of desire. “I kinnda heard you, in the shower.” He added suggestively, teasing you as he giggled. 

Your face became various tones of pink, as embarrassment found its way to you. You tried burying your head behind your hands, but he was quicker, instead he pushed his chest so your head would hit it, wrapping his arms around you. 

“Oh no.” You chuckled as you couldn’t believe it.  

“I’ve liked you since before that though.” He whispered into your ear, kissing your temple before he continued talking. “I just wanted to be the one touching you.” His breath brushing your ear, he smelt of the candles you had picked when you first moved in, vanilla and cinnamon. “Especially if you're screaming my name.” 

“Do you still..?” He laughed, an angelic sound pressed to your ear. 

He started to plant kisses along your jawline in response. A desperate whimper escaped your lips as soon as you felt his, needing more of him. All of him. 

Your hands started to mess with his hair, pulling him in deeper, the kisses he left wetter, with a few bites that made you smile with pleasure when you felt them. 

You grabbed the back of his neck, guiding him back to your lips, wanting to feel him again, needing to taste him once more. Before you were aware of it, your hands were messing with his shorts wristband, asking for permission that you already had. You smiled in between kisses when you felt his skin immediately, no underwear on. 

You didn’t need to see him to know he was big, bigger than you expected. You felt a smirk on his lips as he pulled away for a second. 

“That feels…” He was out of breath, his words knotted on his throat, coming out as broken sobs, wanting more. 

“Good?” You ask, as your hand slips back in, wrapping on his cock, his nails digging on your skin. 

“Yes.” He moaned as his head flew back, your lips starting a trail of kisses that began on the back of his ear and finished on his stomach. He shuddered with each one, and seeing you on your knees just made him moan louder. “Fuck me” 

“I’m trying.” You answered, a stupid laugh shared between the both of you, that stopped abruptly as soon as you started kissing him through the thin fabric. 

His hands buried in your hair, caressing you as he guided you, begging you with his touch, a silent way of saying please eat me. 

So you did, you pulled the shorts down, and started licking his tip, licking your lips seeing him from that point of view. Steve, with a crossed look on his eyes, already gone, already imagining how you’ll feel. 

You opened your mouth wide, starting to fill your mouth with him, feeling him twitch as you did so. He needed you more and more as each time his cock entered and exited your mouth made you hungrier for him. 

“Shit, honey.” He mumbled out, as he had trouble staying on his knees, the view that he had a perfect one. “You’re really fuckin good at that.” 

His praise made the exact effect you knew it would have. Made you swallow him whole, feeling his tip on the back of his throat, as his grip became tighter around your hair. 

He used it to pull you up, kissing you while he tasted a bit of him on your lips. With one swift movement your shirt ended on the floor, with another one, your thong joined it. He grabbed you by the waist, pulling you in a tight hug, as he sat you down carefully on the verge of his bed. He started kissing all of your body. He stopped once he arrived on your boobs, licking and nibbling at your nipples, leaving small love bites under one of them, as you exhaled in short breath in response. A soft moaning provocated by him kissing down your stomach. The coldness of his breath shocked you as he came close to your cunt, the wetness of it becoming cold when his breath reached it, before starting to kiss right above it, around it. 

“Steve.” You whimpered, looking down at him, biting your lips as he looked up at you, a smile dedicated to you. 

“You look so angelic.” He answered. “I wonder if you’ll sound it too.” He teased, right before his lips started to eat you out. 

A sharp moan escaped your lips, as the warmth of his mouth invaded you, he knew exactly how to move your tongue, your hips already moving as he fucked you with his tongue. Your mouth was becoming dry, your lips parted as you couldn’t stop moaning, begging, or simply just whimpering with no sound. Your whole body felt on fire, starting with the way Steve made you feel, reaching to your lips where you wanted to be touched. 

“Love…” You managed to whisper, smiling when you saw the way he did once he heard you. “I need you.” You cried out, happily when you saw him climb on top of you, kissing you senseless as you could taste your sweetness on his lips. 

“Where?” He groaned out, as his hand caressed your whole body, too busy kissing every inch of your skin he could. 

“Everywhere.” 

He took that as an invitation, you felt the way one of his fingers opened you up, slowly. You did the same with him. Your hand wrapped around his cock once again, you were going at the same pace, if he fingered you harder, or faster, you did the same. 

Until you couldn’t take it anymore. You really needed him. 

“I really need you, Stevie.” He nodded, and left one more kiss on your lips. 

He grabbed you by the waist, pulling your body in the middle of the bed. He took his cock, his fingers brushing yours, as he searched for your wet entrance. The first thrust was always the best one. 

His body relaxed instantly, and so did yours. You melted into one, a release was made, he was inside, and once he looked you in the eyes, a is this okay? that you answered with a sincere smile and a nod. 

He went in again. And again. And again. Your legs parting with every movement, wrapping around his waist, his body sinking deeper into yours. 

“You feel… fuck.” He wasn’t able to finish his sentence. Your waist pulling up with his latest thrust, he could tell his dick was exactly in the right place, your walls closing down on him.

Light touches traveled down his back, as your fingers searched where to grab him, needing him deeper, wanting him more than you ever had. 

He understood. 

He grabbed your leg, pulling it up so it would rest on his shoulder. A cocky smile escaped his lips as he saw you groan with pleasure when he hit deeper, and harder. 

He didn’t stop, the noise his body left when it hit you was engraving itself on your brain. It wasn’t the only thing. 

From now on, when you close your eyes you can see Steve like that, enamored by you, his eyes only shining for you, his pretty girl. 

“Keep making that sound, please.” He begged, once he started to hear the way you were running out of breath, trying to say his name. 

“Steve, Steve I’m…” 

“I know, honey, me too.” He whimpered, as he continued. 

You wanted him to finish inside. 

So your legs wrapped tightly around him, your nails burying deep in his skin, begging for him to stay doing the exact same thing. He kissed you again, and again. His wet kisses on your skin only made you even more overstimulated. 

“Honey I’m-” You shut him up with a kiss, your right hand pulling his hair closer to you. 

“Come, inside. Please.” It was the begging that did it for him. 

Or maybe it was seeing you, your skin fleshed in pretty tones of pink, hair messed up by him, begging for him, needing him that made him a goner. He pressed tightly his body against yours, and came, as you had been doing for a while now. 

His weight over your becoming a warm blanket. You stayed like that for a second, him still inside of you, as you cuddled on top of his sheets. 

And the same question on both of your heads. 

What now?

[cookie-crumblr]

Chubby F! Housewife Reader X M!Yandere Streamer OC Jasper

Part 1?

next part!

(idk i might continue it?? should i? i know it’s more niche)

MINORS DNI

CW: Chubby F!reader, reader has a vagina, reader referred to as she/her, cheating themes, reader in a dress, pet names for reader(darling, ) not smutty yet! slow burn possibly

keep thinking about a chubby housewife reader to like a really shitty but rich man, and they move next door to Jasper………………. MMMMM

Anything in Red reader isn’t aware of

Your husband moved you both into a beautiful mansion in a gated community. It’s amazing, and everything you could ever need, he’s providing.

You fell in love with him a year and a half ago.

It’s not like he lied, but you wouldn’t have married him had you known what he was really like.

He drinks all day and complains all night, and when he fucks you, he finishes in a few seconds. And that’s when he does fuck you! He’s hardly ever even touching you let alone getting it in.

You are standing outside overseeing the movers as they take boxes and furniture into your brand new house. your skirt dances against your legs in the warm, gentle breeze.

Your husband swirls an amber liquid in a short crystal glass, watching you from the doorway. When you wave excitedly, he skulks back into the mansion.

Your heartstrings tug painfully.

He’s taken you far away from all of your loved ones, somewhere where you’re all alone and afraid… And he can’t even be there for you at least little bit? Before a stinging tear fully can form-

“Evenin’” You hear a lazy male voice from nearby, and spin toward your hedges. There’s a wrought gate between yours, and your neighbors’ yard directly… The old neighbors must’ve been their friend. A young looking guy stands on the other side of it, waving kindly to you. His posture is easy, one hand in his jean pocket, the other up in the air, his head tipped back exposing his pale neck. Long black hair frames his face, loaded with piercings. He looks out of place, but perfectly at home standing out.

You approach, figuring that your husband can lead the movers just fine on his own. You don’t notice your slight pout, but Jasper finds it adorable, he bites his lip, eyeing you up.

“Sorry I didn’t bake ya a pie, didn’t know the place would be sold so soon.” He laughs and lazily scratches the back of his head, his shirt pulls up revealing his hip bone.

“Why? ‘s it haunted? OooOo” You wave your fingers to mock something spooky.

He laughs at your cute demeanor, “Eh maybe, last owner did die,” he shrugs.

“Oh my, I’m sorry, I didn’t know….” You idly run your fingers over the cold, slightly bumpy textured gate.

“Nothing to be sorry for, didn’t know them” He shrugs.

“Oh phew! I thought— Anyway!” You shake your hands and head to reset the convo, “What’s up? why’d you call me over here?” You tilt your head and fold your hands in front of you.

“I was just greeting my pretty new neighbor, that’s all,” He grins.

“Oh stop! I’m married!” You shyly laugh and turn your head so that he can’t see you’re flustered.

“happily?” His grin grows as does his suspicion.

“Oh!” You think of an excuse to quickly leave, “I think the movers are calling me!” You rush off back to at least pretend to delegate again.

His brow raises curiously as he smiles after you, watching your curves sway as you walk away.

The stranger watches you for a few minutes longer, and you feel his eyes on you, but you don’t dare turn around and encourage him.

You are a good wife. Regardless of who you ended up marrying. You stomp, steadfast in your decision.

He chuckles before walking back to his home.

~

Inside you finish setting the table with the house workers, and arranging the flowers on all the marble pedestals around the dining room. Your husband is having some business partners over for dinner.

As the door rings you rush to answer the door, and an employee beats you to it, taking their coat and everything.

You aren’t really sure what you should be doing… And your chest tightens with nerves.

“What are you doing out here? You should be with me.” Edward grabs your elbow and drags you along. He’s being rather rough but you can’t help feel a little grateful to be lead. It doesn’t stop your eyes burning in embarrassment.

He sets you down in the seat next to his at the head, and your heart flutters with pride, emotional whiplash aside.

A few men enter the dining room one after the other, and then dinner is served. you’re dissociating for most of it, just nodding along to their dull conversation, until your husband’s hand clasps around your thigh. “Huh?”

“You’re excused now, darling,” he has a cold look in his eye that startles you.

“What?” What he said hurt your feelings, he doesn’t want you around now? did you do something wrong?

“Leave, let us grown ups talk now” He laughs with his business friends joining in.

You feel that far too familiar sting in your eyes, how could he!? that’s so embarrassing! You’re his wife.

Doing your best, you stand without making a scene and give them all your most polite and proper departing smile.

~

It’s cold on the patio. Your evening dress doesn’t cover very much and where it does, the fabric is cool. You’re quick to shiver, but you remain.

There’s a security camera above you and you feel watched, so you decide to go for a walk around the block instead of staying stationary. Maybe that will warm you up a little too.

You creep out the front gate, feeling like you’re a teen again, sneaking out when you aren’t supposed to… But this is your home! you aren’t disallowed from taking a walk!

“Hah!” You laugh to yourself, how silly of a feeling you just had.

As you round a corner adorned by an iron lamp post with glowing twin lanterns, you start dwelling more and more on your predicament. You already felt lonesome before, where Edward had made you feel special, and told you you’d never be alone again. Yet here you are, walking down the dim street, alone.

An engine coming towards you snaps you out of your thoughts, you turn to see a large van slowing down as it approaches you. Your heart thumps and your mind races before the driver side window rolls down revealing your neighbor’s laid back, and smirking face.

You let out a shaky sigh, “oh goodness you scared me for a second!” followed by a nervous laugh.

“You alright? Want a ride?” He asks.

“Oh no, don’t worry about me! I was just taking a stroll,” You let your words hang, wanting to accept but being a little too frightened or nervous to outright accept.

“C’mon, we can have some coffee or tea at my place, ‘sides, i’d feel terrible if i just left ya out here at this time, sure it’s gated but a tasty lookin’ treat like you’d get snatched up in a heartbeat.”

Your face feels hot but you nod and mangange to get out an “mhm!”

He watches you round the front of his van, and reaches his body over the center console to open the passenger door for you.

He offers his hand to help you up, when you take it, it’s cold! “What have you been up to? You feel like death! here!” You bring his hand up to your face and blow warm air over his knuckles.

Crimson fills his cheeks for the moment and is swift to clear back out before you can really admire it.

You pull back away a little embarrassed yourself, you aren’t sure why you did that to a stranger! “Oh! I don’t even know your name! I’m Y/N!” You stick your hand back out in offer to shake his.

He takes it, “Jasper,” a small smile tugs at his lips.

~

The drive isn’t long, but you realize how far from home you actually were, and wonder what he had been doing to find you.

You step out onto his driveway and anxiously look through the gate connecting your yards. It feels as though this is something you really shouldn’t be doing… But this Jasper guy could be a friend, and then you won’t be so lonely anymore!

Your home is still lit up inside, so you’re assuming they’re still talking in there.

Jasper’s space on the inside is dimly lit, but brightly coloured retro fantasy, all soft shapes with rounded sides. Mostly pinks and purples. Very vaporwave. The kitchen tiles, though the typical black and white checker board, warp and look like waves on the floor. Plants cover most all the surfaces.

He makes you your preferred tea, or coffee, he doesn’t make himself a cup of either. Instead he grabs a pale blue, and silver can from the fridge.

“Oh i see how it is,” You say with sarcasm.

“I figured you’d need to warm up,” A smile crosses his lips that has your body feeling hot.

You sip your drink nonchalantly.

“So what were you doing out there by yourself?”

“My husband— Nevermind, sorry. I shouldn’t talk bad about my husband behind his back…”

“Well I know something we could do if you don’t wanna go back yet…” his brow raises in a challenge.

[evilminji]

I Ponder The Humble Blob Ghost!

You think they are what happens when you ALMOST but not quite A Ghost(tm)? Like, you have the ectoplasm and the will to continue... but you didn't really have A Thing in life? No Final Crystalizing Thought that brings focus? Just "ow! Ah! I'm scared. Don't wanna die!" And theeeeen.... *poof!*

Why am I Orb? Am squish? No bones.

Like? Remove any one piece of the Critical Formula and you get Blob instead of Ghost? Different KINDS, mind you, but blobs none the less.

Like Skulker! Not enough Ectoplasm. Ended up Blob. He CLEARLY had the Will, the Obsession, the gory end and unfinished business... buuuut? No green goo to power the creation of a full body. He clearly knows what he's supposed to LOOK like? But it's not something FIXABLE? Even with his now unlimited access to Ectoplasm.

Like in utero damage that permanently stunted his growth. HE is fine. All his facilities are on-line and checking in as they should, for the level of sentience expected of a ghost of his people. He just... smol. Same strength, intelligence, and power as he would have always HAD...

He just got handed a really, REALLY crap "customize your eternal meatsuit" option screen. Like for real guys. Basicly NO options. His salt is eternal and entirely justified. He could have had his tattoos. He paid a LOT of credits for those! Sat for DAYS! Had to track down this One(1) artist on this SHITTY little trading hub, that BARELY QUALIFIED as one, to sit in on uncomfortable overturned crate... IN A GAS MASK because the AIR SUPPORT KEPT KICKING IT... for hoooours!

It was a WORK OF ART. You would have CRIED.

This is BULLSHIT.

But wait, I hear you say, staring at the Blob ghost chewing on a lamp post. The one that has wii music playing behind the eyes. No thoughts, head jello, one might say. What about THEM?

Good point! Remember that formula?

LOT of Ecto! But THAT... might be either an animal or a fungus. We'd have to check. ANYTHING can and DOES die. If it's alive? It can die and potentially leave a ghost. But! Consider the noble Ghost Rabbit! *holds up squirming rabbit that is ABSOLUTELY trying to both bite me and kick me in the face* A noble and friendly creature!

THIS is what happens when an animal: has sufficient Ectoplasm at the death site, a reason to continue living (fairly common. It's usually their offspring, escape, the instinctual drive to survive itself or other understandable base drives. Like love, loyalty, or hunger.), and that all important High Emotions End.

Miss any of these? You get Blobbertson over there! He's clearly a hungry boy! But! Not very DRIVEN is he? Just floating along, chewing on whatever seems interesting, looking for a snack. He's food motivated. But not MOTIVATED motivated.

Blobbertson over there? A peaceful death. Too much Ectoplasm too leave, too food motivated in life NOT to carry over, but? No DRIVE. To DEFINE and DEMAND the Ectoplasm in his little body become sharp and active. No highly emotional state to stir it into action.

Is Blobbertson INCAPABLE of higher emotions? No. He is every bit as capable as the Ghost Rabbit that has savaged my hands and escaped while you were reading. It was, in fact, NOT as friendly as originally assumed. I may be bleeding. Unimportant. Blobbertson is PERFECTLY capable of getting attached. Being trained.

Whatever level of intelligence Blobbertson had in life, still remains. And WITH that? Comes the ability to improve and grow in death! IF (and this is the big one) he ever finds MOTIVATION to do so.

Because you see, Blobbertson is quite happy. No thoughts, brain jello. Drifting along in a happy green ocean like a jellyfish. Only concerned about his next snack. It's comforting. His food obsession filled, his tiny motivation barely enough to move him place to place.

He would GLADLY sit in one place and eat for the rest of eternity. Head blissfully silent.

And that's OKAY! It truly, honestly, is. Not everyone has to be conquers and kings, crafters and cosmonauts. Sometimes you just want to spend the rest of time playing in the sand. Resting on a sunshine-y hill. Not EVERY soul is a loud one.

This is the INFINITE Realms.

And there are places like Amity Park out there. THICK as cold honey with Ectoplasm in the air, gently infusing all the life that grows there with greater and greater chance of Ghost-hood. Even the peaceful blinking awake after that final rest to look down and... little nubby green paws.

Congratulations on becoming a Blob, grandma! Yes, I imagine you ARE furious it is inordinately difficult to knit like this. No, I don't think complaining to the king will help, MeMa.

That said? I can not tell you if Blob Ghost all belong to the same Family or the same Order, but they are NOT the same species! The WAY in which you fuck up that ever vital Fomula results in WILDLY different Blobs! Was it an animal? A sentient species? A sentient PLANET? A complexe interlocking colony of fungi? What was the EXACT Ectoplasm concentration at the death site? Was that the historical levels or the At Death levels? Was the individual under sedation?

Yes! All of this IS in fact, VERY relevant!

And you think it ends THERE? HA! The SKIES are FILLED with Fighty Mother Fuckers! Ghosts LOVE to fight! It's built into their social dynamics and hierarchy! Good ol brawls to get the Ecto pumping!

......Local Blob Farmer would like to take this moment to say "GET OF HIS GHOST PEONIES, YOU HEATHENS."

No they would NOT like to join your 24/7 thunder dome in the sky, THANKS! Martha here is trying to compose some Atlantian Shell Poetry. Blobby Jr of Blobbington and Blobbington Incorporated is TRYING to study! You've DESTROYED THE COMMUNAL ZEN GARDEN!!

Get! GET!!! *swings broom*

And THEN you look not even a mile east? And it's the floating island of Blobs. They LIKE that rock. It's just an ever shifting, accidentally rolling off the edge, falling slightly, making an offended squeek, and floating back to the top of the pile to repeate the process, MOOSH of thousands of blobs. No one's certain if they used to be seals or some sort of cat.

Apparently THAT island is Warm(tm).

So there they sit. Making contented noises, chirping and shoving for the best spots. They never leave. You can literally just... float up and sit on them. It's amazing. You gotta be careful not to get buried, but it's So Soft and bouncy? And they are ALL making that soft happy Blob vibrate noise. It's like a giant, island sized, warm and almost fuzzy but not, water bed that massages you.

Just DON'T start anything there! Holy SHIT are they territorial. You Will Die. They SWARM.

And THATS not even getting into the Blobs that are? Literally brainless. Some people eat those. Which? I guess? They ARE basicly Ectoplasm jello. But SOME of them are NOT? Like... it's a debate. Hot button issue, ya know?

Some fungus turns into Ecto Jello with negative IQ and delicious insides. Is this food? But OTHER fungus was SENTIENT in life and become a whole RANGE of Fungus ghosts, from Blob right on up to complexe dryad like ghosts! Clearly NOT food unless you are a MONSTER. But THEY argue the FIRST group are ALSO not food?

Plant Ghosts have strong opinions and are willing to Gruesome Violence about it.

Which brings us back to the Humble Blob Ghost! Check before you pet! That might be grandma! Or planning to eat your hand! Just as Mammal tells you little to nothing about what animal you are looking at, so too does Blob and Ghost! Stay safe out there! And if anyone sees a glowing green rabbit? I want my blood back! That's supposed to be in MY body! Rude!

This has been, the daily ghost!

@hdgnj @stealingyourbones

[zazter-den]

Foul-Mouthed Frit | Stained Glass Circumstances Ch. 1

Series: Snippet #1, Snippet #2, Current

Synopsis- All stained glass begins as frit, but you're not as frit of the warrior in front of you as you probably should be.(Main Scene: Bakugou, Aftercare: Kirishima).

Warnings- Coerced NonCon, Oral Knotting, CumVom, Choking, Clothes Tearing, Degradation, Overstim, Org Denial, Slap(giving), Forced Bond, King/Consort Dynamic, Alt A/B/O, Yandere Bakugou.

Tags- Fantasy AU, BarbarianKing!Bakugou, Dragon!Kirishima, KingConsort!Reader, Black Haired Reader, Isekai, Creampie, Chin Grab, Excessive Seed, Aftercare.

Word Count- 7700, Chapter 1

Your heart thumped against your ribs, unease and curiosity battling it out, as you stood before the imposing blond warrior. On a good day, you couldn't help but feel out of place in the simple hand-me-down dress, a one of few mercies you received from the cold villagers when you arrived. Standing here in front of the decorated barbarian within the confines of the grandiose war tent, you felt dressed in little more than rags. Was this man here to finish the villager's sad attempt at uprising? Surely non-lethal injuries to a handful of soldiers, even if severe, didn't warrant a general's (or whoever's) presence.

Why am I here? I wasn't even involved.

The bodice of the scratchy dress felt nearly too tight to breathe, a physical pressure to match the growing weight of dread settling in your bones. It had been a month since your watery arrival to this world, but it hadn't taken long to miss your modern clothes, modern stressors, and the familiarity of home. A pang of longing shot through you like a static shock, but you pushed it aside, focusing on the intimidating figure ahead.

A shiver ran down your spine as you met the blond's piercing blood red gaze. His throne, made from the bones of fallen beasts long dead and a patterned patchwork of leather, only amplified the imposing aura surrounding him. With each passing moment, you couldn't help but feel like a small, insignificant creature in the presence of a predator.

"Pint-sized for a dragon, aren't ya?" the barbarian growled, his gruff voice boomed in the tense silence, tone heavy with amused disdain. A predatory smirk adorned his face, highlighting his intimidating yet undeniably attractive features. "You're quite the fuckin' anomaly."

Your eyes widened at his words, and for a moment you forgot your unease. You had become so used to the weight by this point that you honestly almost forgot. A hand instinctively went to touch the base of the draconic crystal horns that jutted back from your hairline, a bizzarre feature you had woken to on the lake shore, a side effect of the magic that had forced your entry to this unfamiliar world.

All of the lakeside villagers were human, but you had learned enough about this world's inhabitants to know that that you weren't a true dragon like the ones the citizens of this realm were familiar with—those with wings, a tail, and true dragon features. You are, at your core, still human, and really the horns were the only evidence to suggest otherwise. The asshole wasn't entirely wrong in calling you a mystery.

"Can tell you're no real dragon, some sorta bastard maybe" he remarked, rumbly voice smug. "Though I admit, those crystal horns of yours are intriguing 'nough. You'll pass as an addition to my collection."

You blinked once, twice, as you struggled for a mere second to process the words coming out of the pompous man's mouth before time seemed to resume again.

Should you have been scared? Probably.

But you weren't.

Your eyes narrowed to near slits with incredulity as you peered up at him. White hot anger filled your veins, fear of the undoubtedly dangerous strange warrior forgotten. Being a newcomer to the realm, you couldn't quite comprehend the gravity of the situation in standing before the man in front of you. Being an outsider to the village and their rebellion, also meant you weren't aware yet just how low cowards will sink to save their own skin.

" 'Collection'? " You repeated, scoffing loudly at his arrogance. The gall of him had your nerves shot and common sense short circuiting. All pretenses of appearing as a polite peasant were now firmly out the window, all bets were off. After a month of biting your tongue to rude villagers as you struggled to adjust to your new life, it felt amazing to spit exactly what you were thinking. "Who the fuck do you think you are, blondie?”

The fair haired barbarian's grin only widened at your boldness, relishing the rare occurance. It wasn't often someone had a big enough death wish to challenge him face to face.

"O, sweetheart, not just any 'blondie'," he sneered, weighing the weight his words had on you. "I'm yer fuckin' king." Enjoying the way shock washed over your face, anger clearly forgotten, overshadowed by the realization that you were standing before the most dangerous man in the kingdom.

King Bakugou's amusement was evident as he leaned forward in his seat, his eyes gleaming with sadistic satisfaction at your dumbstruck face. "D'ya wanna know why you're standin' in front of me?" he asked, his tone dripping with condescension. "They offered ya to me, little anomaly," the barbaric royal continued, the corners of his lips curling into a cruel smile. "A barter for their miserable lives after a pitiful 'scuse of a rebellion."

You were shocked, your eyes meeting his with furious disbelief. "So, people I barely know, GAVE me to you to spare themselves?" your words were laced with anger and a sense of betrayal, unable to comprehend the depths of their craven desperation. Sure, they were cold to strangers, but to sacrifice you for their own lives wasn't something you had thought was even a possibility. Had it really been so foolish to want to believe they were finally warming up to you?

The barbarian king's expression hardened as he replied, his voice laced with a sharp edge. "Ya should feel honored," he snapped, his blood red eyes narrowing. Rising from his intimidating throne of giant bone and beast hide, he closed the distance between them with a purposeful stride. The sound of his heavy boots thudded against the packed ground within the war tent until he loomed over you.

“I rarely take consorts,” King Bakugou's hand shot out and firmly grasped your chin, tilting your head up to meet his piercing gaze. His touch was harsh, a firm reminder of the physical might that Bakugou wielded when he so chose. Your heart pounding in your chest as his fingernails dug into your jawline. Leaning in close, his face mere inches away from yours, his voice dropped to a low, dangerous rumble as he continued speaking. “especially not runt freaks like you." The disdain in the cold blooded king's tone sent a chill down your spine.

Your heart dropped, The weight of the revelation pressed heavy against your chest. Mind racing with anger and betrayal as you grappled with the harsh reality of your situation. You had only been in this unfamiliar realm for barely a few weeks and now you stood before the formidable barbarian king, a man who held the power of life and death over countless warriors and civilians alike.

It didn't take years of education, or really much common sense, to know the dangerous consequences of defying a medieval tyrant. You knew you had to keep your anger in check, to try to bite your tongue and submit. At least for now.

Your fate was sealed the moment you stepped into that fucking tent, and survival was now officially the priority.

King Bakugou's sadistic enjoyment of the situation was plain as he ruthlessly analyzed your appearance, his gaze lingering on the translucent crystal horns with an almost dismissive glance. "Yer horns are clear, nothin' special," he remarked, his voice dripping with annoyance. It was clear that your unique crystalline features held little significance in his opinion. However, as his eyes roamed down your body, a more sinister gleam sparked within them.

"Body, on the other hand, is fine enough for a concubine," the blond added with a twisted smirk, his grip on your chin tightening slightly. The shift of the dress' neckline sent a shiver down your spine, baring your shoulder to his inspection. Your heart beat faster as King Bakugou's piercing eyes bore into you, his actions invasive and dehumanizing. Your throat constricted in response to the humiliating position you found yourself in. Even having to resist the urge to pull your chin away from his grasp, knowing that defiance would only lead to suffering of some variety.

His eyes swept over your neck and shoulder, searching for any sign of a scar, any indication that you already belonged to another. You kept your gaze to the side, unnerved by the intensity of his bloody stare, a shiver rippled down your spine as his touch almost seemed to burn your skin.

"Good," he declared, a twisted smile tugging at his lips as his hot breath ghosting over the exposed skin. "No claim."

King Bakugou wasted no time in closing the remaining distance. Swiftly leaning down, he sank his canines into the smooth flesh with a forceful bite. However, unlike true mating, the barbaric blond did not release the necessary venom that would solidify an actual bond between souls.

The lack of numbing venom caused a sharp hiss to escape your lips, a mix of agony and indignation flooding your system. You might not have been here long and you certainly were no expert, but you knew the basics of mating marks, this world's lifelong courtship. It was a deliberate move, a clear reinforcement that he had no intentions of making you his equal partner in this arrangement. After all, you were merely a plaything, to be toyed with. You should be thankful not to be bound to the barbarian's soul, and yet you couldn't ignore the obvious insult. Or the pain.

The unexpected stabbing pain of fang sinking into flesh triggered a reflexive response, causing you to shove and slap Bakugou's face in a desperate attempt to free yourself from his grasp. The crack of your palm connecting with his cheek seemed to echo in the massive war tent, leaving a bright red handprint in its wake and a streak of crimson trailing down the king's chin.

The barbarian's eyes glowed with fierce delight, his feral nature taking enjoyment in the defiance of his new concubine. Despite the stinging pain in his cheek and the split in the corner of his upper lip from the strike, a low chuckle escaped King Bakugou's lips. "You've got guts, shitty horns, I'll give ya that much" he growled, his voice laced with a dark amusement as his tongue flicked over his split lip.

If you thought your heart was racing before, it certainly paled to the drumbeat it was pounding now.

You had dared to challenge the king, to strike him in a moment of instinct. If the tyrant himself marched to this village over a few maimed soldiers, what exactly was your punishment going to be? A part of you regretted the impulsive action, aware that it would only fuel the bestial nature of the tyrant and likely add to your own suffering...But another part of you couldn't suppress the thrill that surged through you when you slapped the shit out of him. You might be trapped in this new situation but you refused to be completely meek, cowering at his feet.

You would submit. But only as much as you had to.

As King Bakugou's wicked chuckle echoed in the confines of the tent, he swiped away the droplets of blood that trickled down his split lip, relishing in the taste. "Spirited whore, ha?" he continued with a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You'll learn. 'Til then, I'm gonna enjoy breaking that attitude of yours."

Your breathing grew shallow as you just stared at the king, mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. You knew full well that true defiance would only bring more challenges, but still a small ember of resistance burned. You would not surrender completely, no matter the threat. And even bolstered with the courage of the dissociative haze that emotionally numbed you to the consequences of your actions, you still knew the danger was very real.

The red glistening imprint of his bite marked your delicate skin, a reminder of his sadistic tendencies and the cruel pleasure he derived from such acts. Your body trembled in frustration, mind grappling with the complex storm of emotions that threatened to take over reason. You may have to play the role forced on you but you would bide your time, until the opportunity presented itself.

And so began the balancing act.

"Your position, in this territory," the warrior king continued, his voice dripping with gruff superiority, "is t'be at my beck and call. You exist to serve my needs now, like any other fuckin' whore. An' rest assured, you will serve me well." With those words, he spun you around and pressed your abdomen hard against the tent's solid wood table, his hands gripping your hips possessively.

"Lemme show you your new role," Bakugou sneered, voice filled with dark promise. With one swift motion, he pulled the rough dress up to rest on your hips, baring your body to his gaze. His eyes hungrily took in your curves, his fingers ran up the exposed skin of your thighs and hips. Feeling his rough fingers trail over the sensitive areas of your thighs, you could feel yourself getting lost in the intensity of the touch.

The sound of fabric tearing filled the air as King Bakugou ripped apart the too-tight bodice, buttons popping off as your breasts spilled free from the barely reinforced fabric. His knees pressed painfully firm against the back of yours, effortlessly spreading your shaky legs apart. The motion trapped your hips against the edge of the table and exposed your pussy to to his gaze. Breath hitched as you felt the large tip of his hardened cock pressing against your slick entrance. Every inch of your body tensed. Judging from the thickness of his head alone, the lean warrior was larger than you expected him to be. Bakugou's girth tested your cunt's limits, forced to stretch wide. Initial entry was rough, inch by inch, as your pussy's tight walls struggled to accommodate the impressive length of the barbaric king's dick. The pleasurable ache making you fight to maintain composure.

Leaning forward on your forearms for support, your chest squished against the cold surface of the table. Fingernails dug into the smooth wood, your knuckles turning white with each of Bakugou's punishing thrusts. An unexpected surge of arousal coursed through your veins, and you decided to embrace the inevitable pleasure that his pace promised to bring.

Despite your feelings on the turn of events, your body responded to his coarse treatment, for the distracting orgasm and mind-numbing hormones that lay tantalizingly within reach. Determined to find some semblance of pleasure within your new prison, you forced yourself to shift your perspective. If you were going to be forced to be an object of desire, you may as well revel in the physical gratification it offered and claw back any benefit you could until you made your move.

As the table rocked against the packed dirt floor of the tent with each forceful thrust, the warrior royal couldn't resist mocking you. His voice was filled sadistic amusement. "Where'd all that fire go?" he taunted, amused by the contrast between your previous defiance and your current submissive state. "Don't tell me I already fucked it out of ya."

Your aching walls had struggled to accommodate his girth initially, causing you to tense up. You had to focus on consciously relaxing your body, allowing him to fuck you with more ease. The mixture of discomfort and increasing pleasure sent waves of heat coursing through your body, intensifying your arousal. At this point, you couldn't tell whether the fact that rough sex made your cunt leak like a faucet was a pro or a con.

You really couldn't help but snap back, voice loaded with a defiant edge. "You really like the sound of your own voice, huh, 'Your Highness'?" you quipped harshly, rolling your eyes knowing he would be unable to see, as you were swept up by the overwhelming pleasure of being fucked against the table.

Undeterred by your attempt at disrespect, Bakugou leaned forward over your bare back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. The warrior king's voice dripped with amusement as he addressed your lack of fear. "You're really not scared of me, are ya?" the blond chuckled sharply, the feeling of his hot breath against your skin sending shivers down your spine. "Give it time," he sneered, his grip on your erect nipples tightening as he pinched and pulled. With a choked moan, your body arched instinctively in response, a symphony of conflicting sensations flooding your body.

Your black curls bounced with each punishing thrust, your body pressed against the dull edge of the table, the hard surface digging into your hips with a force that promised to leave bruised reminders of your afternoon in the days to come. The brutal intensity behind Bakugou's movements overwhelmed you, leaving you breathless and at his mercy.

Just when you thought you had found a rhythm, just when you though you were getting close to finally cumming- the royal bastard abruptly withdrew, his cock's sizeable head dragging along the walls of your dripping passage. A soft indignant gasp escaped your lips as the sudden emptiness left you yearning for release. Inner walls involuntarily clenched in a futile attempt to hold onto the fleeting pleasure, not that you would ever admit it out loud.

He took a moment to enjoy your needy frustration before thrusting back inside with renewed intensity. Each powerful movement caused your body to arch and quiver in response, teetering on the razor's edge between ecstasy and torment. Despite the lingering defiance in your heart, your cunt betrayed you, subconsciously craving the pleasure that Bakugou pounded into you. The aching bite at the junction of your neck felt hot, as your nipples squeezed between his vice-like fingers.

Your walls eagerly embraced the renewed pounding, tightening around him in a desperate attempt to hold onto the pleasure he provided. The overwhelming mixture of pain and pleasure sent shockwaves through your body, sparking sensations that threatened to consume entirely. As the table creaked under the combined weight, your gasps and moans filled the air, merging with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and groaning wood. The intensity of the king's pace, each thrust pushing you closer to cumming around the thick cock slamming in and out of your needy hole.

As your body neared the peak of pleasure, King Bakugou enjoyed the control he had over you, keeping that orgasm just out of reach. Each time you felt the pleasure building within you reach that breaking point, he would cruelly withdraw, denying you much needed relief. The frustration reached a boiling point,as your walls involuntarily clenched desperately around the thick ridge of his cockhead in a feeble attempt to keep it inside.

"Stop fucking teasing me!" you shot over your shoulder in irritation. The pleasure that coursed through your veins was distracting, clouding your mind and amplifying your need to cum. The denial of your orgasm left you on the edge in what felt like a perpetual state of yearning, body aching for the release that the feral blond held in his cruel grasp.

As King Bakugou repositioned himself, angling his thrusts to target your most sensitive spots, and the pleasurable torment of denial continued. The conflicting sensations pushed you further towards either heaven or hell. With how your legs trembled with both the overstimulation of your poor pussy's stretched walls and the unbearable need to cum, you weren't sure which you were closer to.

"Ha? Think ya forgot who serves who here," bloody eyes narrowing as he sneered, his arrogant tone held an unrestrained hunger. A wicked grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he drank in your frustration. He took great sadistic pleasure in this game. Knowing that, despite your protests, he had the power to bring you to the edge of cumming and keep. You. Trapped. There.

As the twisted dance between pleasure and denial continued, your body reacted eagerly to every movement, cunt walls fluttering near constantly in desperate need of fulfillment. Each time King Bakugou withdrew, your inner muscles clenched around the massive disappearing tip, another futile attempt to hold onto the pleasure that slipped through your grasp.

Wet, squelching sounds filled the air as he pounded back into your gushing pussy. The table beneath you was sticky with your juices, and his blood red gaze spotted a string of viscous slick suspended mid-air between the edge of the table and the packed dirt floor below.

With each turn of Bakugou's cruel cycle, a symphony of profanity spilled from your parted lips. Your body shook with the weight of unfulfilled lust, aching for the relief that seemed cruelly just out of reach. The rise and fall of your emotions danced in harmony with the motion of their bodies, humiliating frustration fueling your foul mouthed whimpers.

"'N fact," Bakugou laughed, gruff voice filled with sadistic glee, "I think that tongue o' yours has earned ya a punishment."

The barbarian's fingers curled around your quartz horns, his grip possessive and firm. As his grip tightened, you barely felt the dull ache spreading from the base of your horns through the haze of pleasure and overstimulation. The strain on your neck was evident, your head tilted back to reveal the garnet red bite print marring your exposed skin.

With a deliberate slowness, King Bakugou pulled back on your crystalline horns, his hold firmly guiding you until your upper body was no longer supported by the table's wooden surface. Weakened by the cruel cycle of ecstasy and denial imposed on you, your legs trembled with the effort to remain upright. The shift in position caused a head rush as you fought to remain standing upright. Turns out, you wouldn't need to fight that battle for long.

Using your horns as a guide, Bakugou yanked you down to kneel before him. Obediently following his command, your weakened knees sunk against the hard packed dirt beneath you. The shift in posture brought about a new level of submission, body now positioned at his feet, ready to fulfill the king's desires.

Bakugou's massive member hung heavy above you, his imposing figure towering over as he peered down with cruel superiority. "Ever get your mouth washed out with soap?" he sneered, a wicked grin stretching across his face.

With a snarky retort already forming on the tip of your tongue, you opened your mouth to deliver a biting response. However, in that moment of distraction, the massive cock head shoved past your lips, the sudden intrusion catching you off-guard. A muffled gag sound escaped your throat, eyes widening in surprise as King Bakugou claimed your mouth with little mercy. Musk filled your senses, the unexpected violation left you momentarily stunned. Your eyes watered as you struggled to accommodate his size, jaw stretched to its limits while King Bakugou hissed in pleasure at the feel of your hot tongue against his dick.

A gasp of surprise escaped your lips, muffled by Bakugou's large cock as he took advantage of the opening you unwittingly provided and began to thrust. The rough motion caused your tongue to press against the underside of the massive member, tasting both of you. The initial shock gave way to a mix of conflicting sensations - humiliation, arousal, and a begrudging surrender.

Your throat constricted around the tip of his dick as you fought against your body's instinctive gag reflex. The taste of your combined arousal filled your mouth, the combination of his precum and your own slick coating your tongue with every thrust. With each attempt, guided by the iron grip he held on your crystalline horns, you managed to swallow a little more of his length, throat stretching in an attempt to accommodate his girth. The barbaric king's control remained unyielding. He roughly guided your movements with an unwavering grip on your horns, forcing the pace at which you took him deeper. The sight of your struggle only made him grip you tighter, setting a faster pace.

You looked good, all fuckdrunk at his feet, submitting to his desires without question.

With each inch you took down your throat, your breathing became increasingly labored. Your eyes flitted upwards as much as possible, trying to meet his gaze as you continued to obey his every command. Teary eyes pleaded for mercy, yearning for the release that was just out of reach, as you continued to let King Bakugou's thrust into your throat. Bakugou locked gazes with you. It wasn't that he ignored your pitiful puppy eyes, all watery and unfocused, but it didn't certainly have the outcome you were begging for. His pace sped up, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he approached his climax.

Your eyes narrowed in confusion and as you felt a new ridge near the base of his cock begin to swell. It took you by surprise, lips forced to start to form an O-shape as you struggled to comprehend what was happening. You mumbled uselessly around the resulting barrier, only managing to press your tongue harder against the enlarged gland.

"Never seen an alpha before?" King Bakugou asked incredulously, the tone of his voice heavy with pompous amusement. "Ya really are a fuckin' freak, this'll be fun" he added, sadistically excited for the surprise in store for you.

The swelling knot created a tight seal against your teeth, effectively trapping your tongue in a frenzy of desperate, frantic movements. As his lust hit a peak, Bakugou looked down at you with dark satisfaction, the intensity of his gaze piercing into your very being. His words cut through the pounding of blood in your ears, his mean grin widening.

"Y're gonna want to breathe through your nose when ya can," he instructed as his hips started to stutter, cruel grin never faltering. "For the next ten minutes at least." He took great joy in the power he held over you, knowing full well the challenge he was about to present. His groans of pleasure were the only warning of his orgasm that you got besides the pulse of his knot, before waves of warm cum were cascading down your throat. You fought against the rising panic, you just needed to relax you told yourself. The taste of his seed flooded the back of your throat, your lips stretched around his swollen knot, as you braced yourself to endure the minutes to come.

Your breathing grew ragged as you tried to comply with the barbaric king's instruction, the pressure of his spurts down your throat sending your body into a state of sensory overload. Each surge of his cum filled the back of your mouth, forcing you to swallow to make room for more, so you wouldn't be overwhelmed. Nose pressed against the coarse, orange wires of his pubic hair, your breaths coming in short gasps as you struggled to find enough air.

Your sore throat bobbed with each gulp, lips sealed tightly around Bakugou's pulsing knot. You followed his instructions, taking quick breaths through flared nostrils whenever his spurts allowed a moment of respite. As you continued to swallow the seemingly never-ending load, your eyes watered and throat contracted around the royal's throbbing cock. Bakugou ran his thumb over your neck, tracing over the ridge his twitching cockhead made in your throat, causing you to choke and sputter, your reflexive gag wrapped around his dick.

The primal sounds of you gagging and swallowing seemed to fuel Bakugou, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he reveled in your struggle to regain control of your reflexes. He found the cruel game fun, knowing that you had to drink every single drop or be overwhelmed by the seed that filled your mouth. As the barbaric king rolled his hips, his cock milked one last time by your tight walls, the deflating knot slipped past your teeth with a squelching pop. You felt each inch slowly withdraw from your pained throat, eliciting a mix of both relief and a weird sense of emptiness. Your jaw ached from the strain, throat raw and bruised from the rough treatment. Cum dripped from your swollen lips, a shiny string dripping towards the ground between your knees.

You leaned back against the leg of the heavy table, body boneless and weak from the intense sex. Your chest heaved with each ragged breath, senses still reeling from the experience. The taste of his cum still lingered in your mouth, a reminder of of just how well you had performed your role.

His cruel grin twisted with satisfaction as he held your weak chin with his thumb and pointer finger, tilting your glassy gaze to meet his blood red eyes. The arrogance in his voice was evident as he spoke, his words laced with a mocking tone.

"You did well, little whore," King Bakugou taunted, "Maybe you'll last longer than the others." His words cut through you like a knife, a reminder of your place and his complete control over the situation.

And it only got worse.

Your stomach churned, the fullness from consuming the sheer volume of cum you did, mixed with the exhaustion and strain on your body. It was rapidly becoming too much to bear. The taste of his bitter seed lingered in your mouth, adding to the increasing waves of nausea that welled up. With shaky legs, you bolted towards the clean bucket next to the table, a hand clamped over your mouth. Face contorted in anguish as you reached it just in time, hunching over and emptying the viscous contents of your stomach into the wood container, a curtain of dark curls obscuring the action.

Wave after wave of white, thick cum splashed into the bucket. Your throat burned even more from the forceful expulsion, tears streaming down your face as you tried to catch your breath between stomach spasms and hiccups.

Meanwhile, Bakugou simply rolled his crimson eyes in annoyance. He watched with a scowl as you succumbed to the ill effects of being orally knotted for first time, his own sense of satisfaction completely unaffected. The king redressed himself in his leather breeches, his muscular chest displayed proudly. He made no move to help or console you, instead commenting with a disdainful tone

"Y're gonna have to get better at that," he sneered, his dissatisfaction with the newest addition to his collection clear as day. Without a backward glance, he exited the tent, leaving you seething with roiling resentment.

As you continued to glare daggers at his retreating back over the rim of the bucket, an unbreakable determination burned in your eyes. The interaction had further solidified your disdain for the barbarian king. One way or another, you swore to yourself, you were going to find a way to make that man miserable.

Bakugou made his way through the field, his strides thudding quickly across the field. His blood red eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in the lush greenery and wind rustling through the grass and leaves. In the distance, he spotted Captain Kirishima, his towering figure standing tall on a hill overlooking the lake.

The captain of the king's guard, tall and muscular, wore his signature dark grey uniform adorned with a crimson cloak denoting his station. His mane of long, vibrant red hair cascaded down his back, and his curved ruby horns glinted in the late afternoon light. Nearing a staggering seven feet, Kirishima towered over most humans and dragons alike. With a languid stretch of his wings and tail, he looked every bit the formidable dragon he was. Even though his stature was imposing- off the battlefield, there was a softness to his facial features, a warmth in his scarlet eyes that contradicted his formidable appearance.

Stretching his wings and tail with a contented yawn, Kirishima paused mid-spread as he noticed his long time friend approaching. His scarlet eyes widened in alarmed confusion as he caught sight of the split upper lip on the king's face.

"What happened to your lip?" Kirishima asked baffled, his tail and wings still unintentionally frozen extended as he waited.

Bakugou's grin widened, his blood-red eyes shining with a mischievous glint. He licked his split upper lip, savoring the sting that still lingered from your bold and unexpected slap. The memory of the defiance brought a twisted satisfaction to the king.

"Hah! The village's 'peace offering' turned out fiesty" he responded, a hint of admiration laced within his tone. The fact that you had the audacity to strike him, the mighty Murder King Bakugou, had caught the barbarian off guard at the time, but it definitely made you more interesting.

Kirishima's eyebrows furrowed in surprise, his tail flicking. "They attacked you?" he asked taken aback, “Are they still breathing?” The captain knew that the barbaric ruler was not one to tolerate defiance easily, let alone physical attempts to challenge his authority. Kirishima's mind flooded with questions, but he kept them to himself as he awaited further explanation from his commanding king.

Bakugou's smug grin widened even further, his blood red eyes sparkling with perverse delight. "Oh, they're alive," he responded, his voice dripping with a sadistic satisfaction, "Just paying for their little outburst, that's all."

The words hung in the air, the implication clear. The king's tone hinted at the punishment the new consort was enduring in the privacy of the tent.

Although he hadn't yet met the new concubine, Kirishima couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy towards them. Having grown up with the royal, he knew firsthand the levels of wrath Bakugou could reach. Despite these conflicting emotions, Kirishima's primary concern was ensuring the well-being of those in the king's care, even if it meant treading carefully in the sea of Bakugou's own volatile temper. It often fell to the loyal captain to keep the king from committing actions he would regret later. Well, less regret and more inconvenience him.

"'n fact, you're on babysitting duty while I deal with the village," Bakugou said, the murderous glint in his bloody eyes betraying his enjoyment of the situation. The king's command echoed in Kirishima's ears, causing his ruby scaled tail to stiffen and his broad shoulders to tense.

Kirishima let out a silent exhale, disappointment etched across his face as he processed the news. In truth, he had hoped that Bakugou would choose to spare the villagers and seek a peaceful resolution instead of resorting to violence. The captain believed that the actions of a few rebels should not warrant bloodshed on such a scale. After all, the villagers had made multiple peace offerings to appease the barbaric king, it felt like a breach of honor for Bakugou to now go back on that agreement.

However, Kirishima knew better than to openly challenge his friend's authority. He respected the position Bakugou held and understood the consequences of rebellion. Biting his tongue, Kirishima buried his disappointment and gave a casual bow to his commanding ruler, before making his way towards the tent on the hilltop.

Kirishima stepped into the large tent, his unfurled wings brushing against the side as he entered. His wings, magnificent and majestic, spanned wide, their vibrant ruby scales shimmering under the soft glow of the tent's filtered light. The ruby scales continued down the length of his long, sinuous tail, adding a touch of elegance to his formidable presence.

As his fiery ruby eyes landed on you, Kirishima's first thought was one of surprise. The person who had struck King Bakugou looked a lot less imposing than he had anticipated. You, unlike the powerful and intimidating dragons Kirishima was used to, stood before him at a mere average human stature. If that. The only discernible dragon feature you possessed were the crystal dragon horns that adorned your head, gleaming subtly in the low lit tent. His scaled tail swayed slightly, displaying a mix of curiosity and caution.

Your eyes widened as they met Kirishima's for the first time, and your body tensed instinctively. You had been thoroughly exhausted, both physically and emotionally, by your round with Bakugou. Your throat was raw and voice gone, leaving you unable to deliver the defiant expletives you desperately wanted to snarl at the imposing dragon that had just entered the tent. But your voice failed you, leaving you with only one avenue of expression.

With a fierce hiss, you expelled every ounce of ferocity you had left buried within. Your body tensed, lips curling back in a display of bare teeth. The hiss reverberated within the confines of the tent, a desperate attempt to communicate defiance to Kirishima, to convey that you would not be dominated or humiliated any further today.

The captain took a step back, scarlet eyes swept over your form, they couldn't help but notice the torn remnants of your bodice on the floor and the ripped dress clinging to your body. The rips and tears spoke volumes of the intense encounter you had undergone at the hands of King Bakugou. His gaze then landed on the mark that marred the delicate skin of your neck—an unmistakable claim.

Kirishima's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his mind reeling with the implications.

As a dragon, Kirishima understood the significance of such a bite - it bound two souls together, sealing their connection as life partners in a way that couldn't be severed. When done correctly.

Marking a consort with a claim without fully mating them was not unheard of, but it was generally met with extreme judgment. Claims in terms of mating were typically reserved for life partners, a commitment that extended beyond physical desire. Nobles, known for their fickle nature and ever-shifting loyalties, often chose to mark their consorts with more temporary symbols, such as collars.

The ornate collars allowed the royals to easily discard their concubines when they grew bored. The nobility were notorious for their fickleness and often left their consorts behind as they moved on to fresh pursuits. By marking a consort with a bite with no intention of making you an equal, Bakugou had not only defied what little merciful convention held by the upper class but also inflicted a cruel fate upon you in Kirishima's eyes. The mark would make it near impossible for you to find a true mate, forever branded as the king's property.

Kirishima couldn't help but feel a stab of disappointment towards his lifelong friend. While he knew the barbarian ruler's tendencies on the battlefield, he hadn't thought Bakugou would exhibit such cruelty towards a consort, knowing you would likely be discarded at some point. Kirishima's own sense of honor and loyalty clashed with the conflicting emotions he felt, itching at the back of his mind as he observed the vulnerable state you found yourself in.

The captain's gaze lingered on your throat, noticing the subtle signs of strain and discomfort. The realization for the hissing aggression struck Kirishima like a bolt of lightning. You had lost your voice, and it wasn't due to natural causes or illness. No, it became clear to him that it was likely a result of your first tryst with King Bakugou, an experience that he could only imagine had been rough and brutal, throat rubbed raw from the repetitive acts demanded of you.

Feeling a surge of empathy, Captain Kirishima decided to ease the intimidating aura he unintentionally projected. He understood that his imposing stature must be overwhelming to you, given the turn of events. He folded his wings against his back, their vibrant red membranes pressed tightly together, confining their expansive span. The act served to minimize his physical presence, making him appear less threatening. He slouched slightly, adopting a more relaxed stance, and kept his hands visible, showing that he meant no harm. It was a deliberate display of non-aggression, aimed at putting you at ease, or at least as much at ease as one could be in such circumstances.

The red dragon's eyes softened as he noticed the weary look on your face. He could see the exhaustion etched into every line, body still trembling from the recent ordeals you had endured. Determined to offer some solace in this tumultuous situation, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

With slow deliberate steps, Kirishima moved away from you and towards a pile of chests near the entrance of the war tent. These chests contained spoils from the village, items meant to appease the king after their attack on his soldiers. Kirishima knew that among them, there was a chest filled with garments. Opening one of the chests, he carefully sifted through the contents until he found a fine yet simple dress that roughly matched your size.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Kirishima's lips as he gently tossed the dress onto the table, positioning it between the tow of you. Its delicate fabric fluttering in the air before settling down over the wood. It was a small gesture, but meant to convey that he harbored no ill intentions.

It was a silent message that you deserved respect and dignity, even in this tumultuous situation.

Sensing that you needed some space to collect yourself and change, Kirishima took a much smaller chest from the pile. He left the tent, giving you room to breathe and reckon with the pent-up emotions that surely swirled like storm clouds.

As the cool mountain breeze blew through his hair, Kirishima found a suitable spot a few paces from the tent, overlooking the serene lake in the warm hues of late afternoon light. With deftness and precision, he constructed a small firepit, arranging the rocks in a circle. As the dragon exhaled softly, a gentle stream of fire escaped his lips, the light glinting off his curved ruby horns. The flickering flames danced and crackled, casting a comforting glow over the hilltop.

As the captain patiently waited for the water to heat, he glanced back towards the war tent, briefly catching sparkle of your horns through the opening. His heart went out to you. Though he understood the gravity of Bakugou's actions, Kirishima couldn't help but feel a creeping sense of responsibility in making sure you felt as comfortable as possible, despite the circumstances.

Just as the water in the kettle neared boiling, Kirishima activated his innate talent. His hands hardened, gaining an impressive durability that allowed him to handle the intense heat without harm. With a swift motion, he reached for the kettle, hands possessing the resilience of a dragon's scales. His grip was confident and steady as he effortlessly removed the kettle from the fire, preventing the water from boiling. He gently tossed the healing tea leaves into the kettle, watching as they swirled and danced in the near-boiling water. The soothing aroma of the tea began to waft through the air, carrying with it hints of delicate flowers and calming herbs.

With a careful hand, Kirishima reached into the tea chest, procuring a magnificent stained glass teacup that shimmered in hues of red and amber. Draconic stained glass was a rarity, prized for its strength and ethereal beauty. The light of the late sun cascaded through the vibrant colors, casting an enchanting glow on his hands.

Unwrapping the glass bottles, the captain uncorked the crystallized honey and yuzu peel. He slowly poured a generous amount of honey into the teacup, its golden texture illuminated by the sunlight. Next, he added a pinch of the fragrant dried yuzu peel, allowing its subtly sweet and citrusy scent to infuse the air. These ingredients held healing properties, meant to soothe and restore vitality to worn souls. The captain took extra care, ensuring that the precise balance of ingredients was met, creating a concoction that he hoped would bring some measure of comfort to your weary spirit.

With a quiet exhale, Kirishima patiently awaited the completion of the tea's steeping process. He hoped that the healing properties of the tea, combined with the warmth and tranquility of their surroundings, would provide a much-needed respite for your body and mind. In this moment of quiet reflection, he couldn't help but hope that this small act of kindness would bring some solace amidst the chaos that was now your new life in royal confines.

As the tantalizing fragrance of the healing tea filled the air, it didn't take long for you to emerge from the confines of the tent, eyes cautiously studying Kirishima's every move. Clad in the simple yet elegant dress he had provided you, features betraying a mix of cautious curiosity, before you fully exited the tent.

Scarlet eyes met yours as he poured the infused brew into the stained-glass teacup, the colors of the evening sun casting a mesmerizing glow through its amber and red hues. With a delicate touch, he extended the teacup towards you, his gentle gesture offering a sense of peace and comfort amongst the chaos.

Your gaze flickered between the beautiful teacup in Kirishima's hands and his eyes, wariness slowly giving way to a glimmer of trust. You lowered yourself onto the cushion placed by the fire, its warmth seeping through the fabric and into your tired body. Settling in, you positioned yourself to face the serene vista of the lake, where the calm waters mirrored the vibrant shades of the setting sun.

Kirishima, mindful of your nervous vigilance, kept his movements steady and reassuring. His hand extended further, confidently offering you the teacup of healing brew. The crimson colored light filtering through the stained glass seemed to dance and flicker as if carrying with it a promise of respite.

A soft smile tugged at Kirishima's lips as he spoke, his voice gentle yet filled with earnest sincerity. "Can we start over? I'm Captain Kirishima." In that simple statement, he hoped to convey that he was not just a guard but someone who, at their heart, genuinely cared. Someone who would listen and support you, should you choose to share your burdens.

He waited patiently, the teacup held delicately between the two of you, awaiting your response. In this moment, amidst the tranquil beauty of the lake and the tender offering of healing tea, he hoped that they could find a glimmer of solace and a fresh beginning.

IRL Safety Disclaimer: Never Pull A Partner Up By Their Hair Off of a Surface. You Will Injure Someone.

Taglist: @themythicaldisaster

Comments and Reblogs carry me through the week!

[ryin-silverfish]

A side-by-side comparison of Nezha's backstory in JTTW and FSYY

(Sth I've been working on for a while, as quick reference material for Nezha's story in the two novels specifically that doesn't go into the broader mythos.)

JTTW's Nezha:

-Born with the characters "Ne/Na" on one hand, and "Zha" on the other

-Has 2 older brothers and 1 younger sister: Jinzha, who worked as a guardian deity and attendant of the Buddha, Mucha, who was the disciple of Guanyin, and Li Zhenying, who's said to be 7 years old in JTTW (Chapter 83).

-There's also Diyong/Lady Earth Flow, the adopted mice sister that had eaten the Buddha's candle, was captured by Li Jing and Nezha, and spared on the Buddha's order.

-She shows up in Chapter 80, as a demoness who kidnapped Tripitaka for the purpose of marriage, and is subsequently recaptured to face celestial judgement.

-Three days after his birth, Nezha went off into an unknown ocean, stepped on a crystal palace and toppled it, and caught a flood dragon to use its tendon as a belt

-After that, Li Jing tried to kill him for being a menace, and Nezha did the "Return his flesh and bones to his parents" thing in anger

-His soul then drifted off to the Buddha's place, who performed the Lotus Resurrection Thing by reciting a mantra

-He then subdued 96 caves of demons, and went after Li Jing to take revenge for the "forced suicide" thing

-Li Jing pleaded to the Buddha for help, who gave him a pagoda with Buddhas sculptured on every level, and told Nezha to call the Buddha (on the pagoda) as his father from now on.

-The weapons he used in his Three-headed Six-Armed Form: The Demon-slaying Sword + Demon-cutting Blade, Demon-binding Rope + Demon-subduing Vajra, Embroidered Ball, Fire Wheel (held in his hand)

FSYY's Nezha:

-Is the reincarnation of Taiyi's oldest disciple, Spirit Pearl/Lingzhu Zi

-Is destined to be the Vanguard of the Zhou army in the upcoming War of the Investiture

-Has 2 brothers: Jinzha, disciple of Wenshu Guangfa Tianzun, and Muzha, disciple of Sage Puxian. (FSYY's quirk of making popular Buddhist deities into Daoist sages in a trenchcoat is at play again.)

-Mother was pregnant with him for three years, gave birth to a ball of flesh

-Jumps out of the ball of flesh when Li Jing cuts it open, wearing his Qiankun Ring as a bracelet, Huntian Sash wrapped around his stomach

-Was immediately taken by Taiyi as a disciple the next day, who told Li Jing that, born in the hour of Chou, Nezha is destined to break 1700 prohibitions against killing

-A 6 ft tall 7-years old (FSYY's sense of scale is really weird, like all old novels)

-Asked to go out and play in the river during summertime, unknowingly created a shockwave in the water with his sash that shook Ao Guang's palace in the East Sea.

-Ao Guang sent a Yaksha to check it out. Nezha sassed the Yaksha, who attacked him in a fury and got insta-killed.

-Ao Guang's soldiers reported the Yaksha's death. Ao Bing overheard the whole thing, asked to go deal with this random brat, and was granted permission by his father.

-Ao Bing rode out of the waves on his steed, and went "Who are you, sassy lost child, and did you just kill my Yaksha?!" And Nezha was like "Yeah, so what? Talk shit, get hit."

-Ao Bing charged Nezha with his weapon in a fury, got dragged down his steed by the sash, and was promptly bonked on the head by the Qiankun Ring, which reverted him to his dragon form.

-Nezha then pulled out his tendons to make a belt for Li Jing's armor and returned to Chentang Pass. Furious, Ao Guang hurried his way to Li Jing's mansion and accused him for the whole multiple homicide thing.

-Li Jing's first reaction was "My kid's only 7 and never goes out of the door, he can't possibly kill yours!" Then, when he indeed asked Nezha, Nezha flat-out admits it and went out to meet Ao Guang like "Yeah, sorry, doesn't know that's your kid. Anyways, here's his tendons, undamaged and untouched."

-Ao Guang, unsurprisingly, did not take it well and stormed off to press charges to the JE. Faced with his angry crying parents, Nezha also knew he had fucked up, and went to his master Taiyi for help.

-Taiyi's advice? Go ambush the dragon king on his way to complain to the JE and beat him up, mobster-style. Which Nezha promptly did, forcing Ao Guang to turn into a little snake and stay in his sleeves, to be carried back to Chentang Pass.

-The beatdown does not convince Ao Guang not to press charges. In fact, he said he'd get the other dragon kings of the Four Seas to press charges together. Li Jing raged at Nezha again, who assured him that it was alright, like, his master said he was destined to assist some Sage King and stuff.

-He then wandered into the back garden, picked up the Qiankun Bow and Sky-shaking Arrows of the Yellow Emperor that were, uh, just kept there in the family attic, and decided to do some archery practice.

-Sadly, he didn't know how far that arrow would go. It flew all the way to the White Bone Cave, abode of Lady Shiji the Rock Demoness, and went straight through the throat of one of her two disciples, the Verdant Cloud Boy.

-Since Li Jing also carved his name onto the arrow (…), Lady Shiji headed immediately to his place and whisked him away with her treasure, the Eight Trigrams Hankerchief.

-At her place, Li Jing pleaded that he really didn't do it, since the Qiankun Bow was a mystical ancient weapon no one could use in a long, long time, and Shiji released him back to Chentang Pass to find the true culprit. At which point he put two and two together, found out it was Nezha again, and told him to go answer to Shiji together with him.

-Nezha, who did not think this was his fault, smacked Shiji's other disciple, the Colored Cloud Boy on the head with his Qiankun Ring, when he came out of the cave on his master's orders. Shiji was even less happy about that, took his weapons away with a single swipe of her sleeves, then chased him all the way to Taiyi's place.

-At which point Taiyi was like "Well, if you want Nezha to pay for his crimes, how about we go to the Jade Emptiness Palace together and let my master (Yuanshi Tianzun) sort it out?" Shiji refused, stating that he was just using his master's authority to lord over her and unfairly protect his disciple.

-Taiyi then revealed the Chan-Jie division that would later become a huge thing in the War of Investiture, and basically went "Sorry that your student died in Nezha's archery accident, Lady Shiji, but it is literally Fated to Happen, which means you totally shouldn't be mad at me or him."

-Shiji did not buy that explanation at all, and they fought. Taiyi blocked her hankerchief when she tried to use it, then threw the Nine Fire Dragon Bell Cover over her head, burning her to death and reverting her to her true form——a rock.

-Taiyi then informed Nezha that with JE's permission, Ao Guang had gathered the other dragon kings to go after Nezha's parents. Nezha begged him to save them, and his advice was...well, "kill yourself and the dragon kings will let them go". Literally.

-So Nezha did, which was very graphically described in the novel, after which his soul drifted off to Taiyi's place.

-Taiyi told him to go to his mother and tell her to build a temple for him at Mt. Cuiping. He did, and Lady Yin woke up from her dream crying.

-Upon learning the reason why, Li Jing yelled at her for crying after Nezha had brought all these troubles upon their family. Nezha's soul then haunted her in her dreams for a week or so, until she finally relented and built him a temple in secret.

-Half a year later, Li Jing found out about the temple while Nezha's soul was out and away for some unknown reasons. In a fit of rage, he smashed Nezha's statue and burned the temple down (I talk about how this resembles the destruction of 淫祠, illicit cults in IRL history here).

-Nezha returned to his temple only to find it in ruins, at which point he went back to Taiyi, who did the Lotus Resurrection thing and gave him back his weapons, together with a new spear, the Wind-Fire Wheels and a golden brick.

-Nezha immediately rushed back to Chentang Pass to take revenge, stating that after the whole "returning his flesh and blood" thing, they were basically unrelated and didn't owe each other anything, so he was perfectly justified to go after Li Jing for the destruction of his temple.

-They fought. Li Jing, quickly exhausted, turned tail and fled using the Daoist arts of Earth Travel, at which point he ran into Muzha. While they were talking, Nezha caught up with them.

-Muzha was like "How dare you!" and Nezha replied with "Who the hell are you?" Only after Muzha said his name out loud did he recognize his brother and recount the whole story.

-Muzha retorted that "Parents can do no wrong". Nezha pointed out that after his suicide, they were no longer father and son, and told him to stand aside.

-Muzha whipped out his sword to fight him. Concerned that Li Jing might get away in the meantime, Nezha threw his golden brick at Muzha, hitting him in the back and knocking him down.

-The chase continued. Li Jing, knowing that he couldn't run away forever, was ready to commit suicide instead of facing the disgrace of being struck down by his son.

-However, Jinzha's master, Wenshu, suddenly showed up to rescue him. Nezha demanded that Wenshu release Li Jing from his abode, and if he didn't, he'd poke three holes in Wenshu instead.

"And who are you, to make such claims?"

"I am Nezha, disciple of Master Taiyi!"

"Never heard of you. You can throw a tantrum elsewhere, but not here, and if you keep this up, you are in for a spanking."

-Nezha attacked him. In return, Wenshu unleashed his treasure, the Flying Dragon Pillar, tying Nezha onto it. He then summoned Jinzha, handed him a walking stick, and told Jinzha to give him a good whipping.

-Then Taiyi showed up to rescue him, telling Nezha to bow to Wenshu, his Daoist uncle (Context: Taiyi and Wenshu are both among the 12 Immortals of the Chan Sect), and scolded Li Jing a bit for the temple-burning thing.

-Then he told the two to get along and go their separate ways. Nezha was delighted, seeing it as basically a free pass to resume his revenge the moment he was out of his master's sight, and indeed, he did.

-Then Sage Randeng (also of the Chan Sect) showed up, gave Li Jing a buff, and told him to fight Nezha again. Nezha, having witnessed the whole thing and reached an impasse in the fight, attacked Randeng in an attempt to disable the buff.

-Randeng was not happy about this "unprovoked" attack on an innocent bystander, so he dropped a pagoda out of his sleeves and onto Nezha, trapping him inside.

-On Randeng's command, flames ignited inside the pagoda. At last, Nezha pleaded for the sage to release him, under the condition that he'd call Li Jing father (grrrr grrrr) again.

-He was planning to pull a second "resume patricide arc" the moment Randeng left, until the sage gave the pagoda to Li Jing and told them to go back to Chentang Pass and Taiyi's place respectively, to wait until the War of Investiture formally began.

-And they did: Nezha was sent to rescue Huang Feihu during his escape from the Five Passes in Chapter 34, while Li Jing only showed up much later in Chapter 64, to kill a fleeing Luo Xuan after he got all of his fire-based treasures neutralized and taken away by Princess Longji.

-I will not do a full campaign-by-campaign summary of Nezha's performance in the War of Investiture proper, for this post is already long enough.

-The broadest overview: together with his senior Daoist brother Yang Jian, Nezha was one of the biggest powerhouses on the Chan/Zhou side.

-His total kill count in the novel (only counting the named/deified ones) is 15, which is actually more than Yang Jian's (12-13).

-Much like Yang Jian, he was often the one who survived lethal attacks and AOE plague spells while the others were taken out. His lotus body also made him impervious to spells and treasures that work directly on the soul, usually by pulling it out of the body.

-After suffering an injury from the Blood-melting Knife of Yu Hua/his master Yu Yuan, Nezha was given his final power-up at Taiyi's place via three cups of wine and three "fire jujubes", enabling him to transform into his Three-headed, Eight-armed Form.

-At the end of the novel, Nezha, together with Li Jing, Jinzha, Muzha, Yang Jian, Weihu and Lei Zhenzi, became "Sages in Flesh"——which I understood as "a better sort of gods/immortals that don't receive their godhood via death and deification".

-The 6+ weapons he has: Qiankun Ring, Huntian Sash, Fire-tipped Spear, Golden Brick, Wind-Fire Wheel (in its most popular "hot wheels" depiction), Yin-Yang Swords, Nine Fire Dragon Bell Cover

[shadowbriar]

Sirius Black - Sweet Rubbish

Pairing : (F/M) || Sirius Black x Reader Word Count : 5.2k Warning : I don’t know, nothing I suppose. Synopsis : Their game of love hate pretend has to put to halt as Sirius gazed into the crystal ball. Notes : Post number 1 for my 7-days post celebration. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

“Divination is rubbish.”

Sirius whines as he drags his feet to the class, spiteful mumbles escaping his lips with every step closer to the dreadful lesson. He loathes Divination class, to say the least. Other than the fact that the Professor always rambles about nonsense Sirius could never comprehend, sharing the hour with her irks him to the bone.

“Just because your pea-sized brain couldn't compute the knowledge given does not mean the class is rubbish, Black.”

Sirius sent dagger eyes at the girl who now walks past him with her head held high. There is no unit in this entire universe that could measure the level of hatred he has for her. She's the bane to his existence. Not a day passed without him seeing her face and wanting to take out his wand to mess her beautifully combed hair or to hex her to trip from her graceful walk. Pity she is the way that she is. He would have admitted she's magnetising if she wasn't.

“Didn't your parents ever teach you that it is improper to reply to someone when they weren't talking to you in the first place?”

“You were yelling for the whole corridor to hear, I was only doing it out of pity from the lack of feedback. Even your friends look like they've had enough of your moans.” She replies, stopping her pace to turn at him with an unamused smile “You're not denying your pea-sized brain, then?”

“My brain isn't pea-sized, it's huge! Humongous even!”

“Of course it is.”

With another toxic laced smile, she turns away and continues her journey to the class. A complete contrast to the sulking boy, she seems to be in her best mood today. Divination has always been one of the many classes she excels at. She has a clever mind and witty brain, complementing her charming personality. Just another trait of hers Sirius detests.

“One way or another I will rip off that ever so brilliant smile off of her face.”

James scoffs, “Right, mate.”

“What was that?” Sirius turns to his friends, looking incredibly offended at the unamused expressions his friends were showing “Why don’t any of you ever believe it when I express my despise to that girl?”

“Because you’re all bark and no bite, Pads.” Remus chimes “You’ve hated her since you first laid eyes on her yet you never did anything. You even got mad at Wormy for accidentally pranking her back in 3rd year.”

“Indeed,” Nods Peter, looking rather pissed at the flashback of Sirius’ overdramatic anger at him a couple years back “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re secretly in love with her.”

“Me? In love with her?” He asks with a bewildered expression “I’d rather drown by the Black Lake than to ever imagine being in love with her.”

“If you say so, Pads.” James says, patting on his best friends’ shoulder as if he understands the underlying message Sirius was implying “If you say so.”

—-

Sirius stares blankly at the Professor’s face. His mind wanders elsewhere, completely detached to his surroundings. From the corner of his eyes, he could see her sitting just a few tables below him on the right. Her posture was straight as always, complete focus and attention poured to the lesson taught. Her house coloured headband glimmers under the light of the class, enhancing the beauty of her hair. Sirius has imagined running his finger through the soft strands of her hair every once in a while, wondering what scent her shampoo would be but he would rather be jinxed with the cruciatus curse than to ever admit it aloud.

He doesn’t love her. No, love is the complete opposite of the emotions he holds for her. Sirius hates her, loathes her in fact. He couldn’t pinpoint the fundamental reasoning behind his strong abhorrence for her, he just does. Perhaps the fact that she’s too good at everything, or that she’s genuinely loved by everyone including his best friends, or that she’s simply too perfect of a girl to ever be real. 

Perhaps the idea of someone being too perfect that he couldn’t ever dream of being deserving of her, makes him hate her.

“This is horse shit.” James mumbles. The bespectacled boy then turns to the thick textbook laying on their table, skipping through the pages to find any interesting rituals they could do to fill in the time “Pads, do you want to see your future?”

Sirius glanced at James, confusion filling in his eyes, “What do you mean?”

“This,” James points at a spell on the Crystal Ball reading chapter “Looks a lot more fun than whatever mambo-jumbo the professor’s talking about, doesn't it?”

“Looks like another lark, that is.”

James rolled his eyes, “Shut up and stare at the ball. I’ll say the spell and you tell me what you see, alright?”

Sirius huffs, clearly wanting no part but hearing the Professor’s lecture for another minute would certainly burst his brain out. Reluctantly, he stares at the crystal ball with a hand supporting his chin. A small frown decorating his face. James’ whisper of the spell begins to enter his eardrums, making the slightest flame of intrigue and curiosity spark in his chest.

The once cleared crystal ball now turns cloudy, some kind of mist begins to pollute the inside of it. Sirius brows furrow, completely taken aback by the effect happening. He certainly didn’t expect James’ mispronunciation of the latin spell to work, yet here they are.

“What do you see?” James asked.

“Nothing yet,” He answers “Just some ugly grey fog.”

“Look harder!”

“I’m trying!”

And as if on cue, Sirius begins to see some sort of vision. He wasn’t even sure if it was truly happening or was his brain just playing tricks with him, but either way the grey mist now turns into shapes, slowly forming what seems to be a ceremonial venue. There were chairs lining up in front of him with flowers decorating them. He was wearing a suit, the most elegant suit he’s ever worn and there have been plenty of dress robes he’s worn in his life yet nothing compares to the grandeur of the one he’s wearing at the moment. He looks to his side, noticing the mists that now become James, Remus, Peter, and Regulus standing a couple metres away from him.

His gaze now averted to where the rose petaled aisle ends. A woman was standing with her bouquet of flowers in her hand. Her beautiful silk dress sweeps the floor as she takes the first steps closer to him. Her face was still blurred, as if the mist was still trying to craft the person’s face. A small smile now tugs on the corner of Sirius’ lips, feeling proud and content of the setting he’s in. Whoever this person is, it pleases Sirius to know that the crystal ball predicted a pleasant romance in his future.

The vision felt real now as Sirius’ heart began to palpitate, feeling the warmth of her gloved hands as it reached for his. His smile grows wider, cheeks warm from the fulfilment. It no longer feels like he was watching a prophecy, no, it feels more like he was in the scene, slowly occupying the body that is now reciting the vows the priest was saying. The feeling only gets more intense as he finally shares the kiss with his bride. He swears he could feel her soft lips on his, the hint of cherry from her lip gloss and her warm heavy breathing on his skin. It feels too real to be just a forecast.

After what seems to be the shortest forever, they finally pull away. She was smiling, her warm eyes gazing back at him with love and admiration. Her features were soft, much more beautiful than how he always thought now that he no longer had to deny the beauty of his wife. She giggles, calling his name

“Sirius!” James silently yelled, nudging his best friend with an annoyed expression “You completely ignored me for the last five minutes!”

Sirius blinks, trying to comprehend his reality.

“You were gone,” His best friend continued “What happened? What did you see?”

The raven haired boy cleared his throat, “Nothing. I– Uh– I saw nothing.”

“Bullshit, you definitely saw something.” James scoffs “Your cheeks are red!”

“I didn’t see anything, alright!” Sirius defends with more persistence “Must be because of your shitty pronunciation or something, I don’t know!”

James frowns, muttering his confusion on how his spell fails when it wasn’t the most tongue-twisting one he’s done before. Sure he wasn’t the most brilliant out of them four with charms, but he was still better than most and nailing a spell in the first trial wasn’t a new thing for James. He wanted to argue more about the hunch he has that Sirius was lying but the boy looks like he’s seen a ghost. Perhaps the spell did work and the vision Sirius had was just something he’s not ready to talk about. Whatever it is, James has made it his mission to find out, be it today or tomorrow.

—-

The next couple of days the strange behaviour Sirius tries his best to hide is becoming more and more visible. He would skip his meals and turn the other way when she was around. Even when she was busy with her group of friends and completely unaware of his presence, Sirius would still avoid her like the plague. He would exchange seats in classes he shares with her, occupying the furthest spot from her and blocking his view physically from her.

And such action didn’t go unnoticed for too long.

“Have you been sick or did the dementors kidnap you, Black?” She mused, taking a seat opposite of him and next to Remus “I haven’t seen you lately.”

Sirius gulps, completely frozen in his seat.

“Morning, Love.” Remus greets her “He’s been avoiding everyone, don’t take it personally.”

“Has he? Here I thought I was a special someone to be receiving such treatment.”

“He’s been acting strange since divination class,” James says as he swallowed the bits of food in his mouth “We were fooling around and tried to read his future through the crystal ball and– Oof! What was that for?”

James yelped at the sudden nudge to his rib. Sirius glares at him, sending him a death threat.

“Really? I thought you said Divination is rubbish, Sirius.” She teased, her playful smile decorating her face “What did you see? Anything interesting?”

Sirius lowers his gaze to his plate of food, not daring to spend another second staring at her face. His skin feels warm, like the temperature somehow raised a couple degrees and he’s the only one boiled. 

The lack of response from him somehow twisted a knife she didn’t know was stabbing her heart. It was evident that he was avoiding her, for whatever reason he might have. His silent treatment now only proves the effort he’s made to keep his distance that she so hard convinced herself was nothing more than a mere illusion. Sirius, as loud and apparent as his claims of vexation for her all these years, still holds a soft spot and that their love-hate relationship was nothing more than a silly game of pretend. Perhaps she was wrong all along.

“Well, I’ve got to go,” She fakes a chirpy persona, taking his mute to be her cue to leave “I’ll see you gentlemen around.”

As if a splinter’s been taken off of his toe, Sirius lets out a relieved sigh once she leaves their table. The audible huff made his friends raise their brows high, completely lost at the charade he’s playing. The two would always bicker, picking fights and arguments over the slightest most trivial matters that more often than not the boys would wish that they could hex the two with some stunning spell. Yet for the first time in their lives, they’re left wondering why Sirius would zip his mouth shut in her presence.

“What?” Sirius asks, noticing the questioning eyes glued on him.

“Do you really expect us to look past the fact that you didn’t spare her a word for the first time in your life?” Peter asks, fully suspicious of his friend’s antics “Are you ill, Padfoot?”

James whines, “Come on, mate, tell us what you saw on that crystal ball.”

“I saw nothing, Prongs.” Sirius says with a more stern tone “And I’m not ill, Wormy.”

“Well you’re certainly not straight in the head.”

“Oh yeah, Moony? And what makes you say that?”

Remus shrugs, “You’ve been acting strange for days and now that she’s here you’re completely ignoring her. Did she break your heart or something?”

“No, no she didn’t.” Sirius fidgets, tapping on his cheek as he looks at Remus accusingly “Say, when you call her ‘Love’, do you just– You know, casually call girls that or do you mean it like.. I don’t know.. Like my Love kind of thing?”

Remus turned to James with a baffled expression while Peter now had his jaw hang low. The three boys are now whisked deeper into the maze, trying to decipher Sirius’ true intention. He was never as cryptic and never held secrets from the boys before, always been the most open and true to others yet he’s acting like a completely different person now.

“Oh Merlin, is that what you see?” James asks with a shocked tone “Moony and her? Did you see them snog each other?”

“What? No!”

“That wouldn’t make sense, Prongs. If Moony was snogging her then it should be Moony who’s seeing the prophecy, not Padfoot.” Peter comments, slowly understanding the riddle as the smirk grows on his face “Did you see your future with her, Pads?”

Sirius cheeks heat up, shaking his head vigorously, “No.”

“You totally did, you tosser!” Remus points out with a victorious smile “You actually saw a future with her, didn’t you?!”

Sirius buries his face to his palm, trying to cover his now crimson face.

“You are so pathetic, Pads.” James laughed, completely entertained by the sight in front of him “All these years expressing your disdain for her only to have the universe pairing you two all along.”

“I don’t know Prongs, he’s always been in love with her for me.” Remus pours more salt “He’s just too embarrassed to admit it.”

Peter chuckles, circling his arm around Sirius’ shoulder to make him come out of his shell, “So what exactly did you see, Padfoot?”

—-

Coming clean to the boys only made Sirius more conscious. They have been acting as persisting bees in his head, lecturing him non stop and urging him to let go of the cat and mouse game and just come forward with his feelings. Crystal gazing is one of the most conceivable forms of divination, as Remus notes, yet the chance of the prophecy being false was never zero. No kind of divination is 100% false proof and Sirius still couldn’t tell if the vision he saw was a true prediction of his future or was it just a manifestation of his deep desire for her.

And if all this hype was caused by the latter, Sirius wouldn’t know how to survive from the heartbreak.

So now he finds himself walking to the other side of the castle, taking small steps as he climbs the stairs to the Divination class. He has to see the prophecy once more, make sure that the spell James uttered that day was right and that the crystal ball was truly predicting his future with her. He needs to know that his head wasn’t playing tricks with him just because he’s been turning deaf to what his heart has been yearning for all these years.

Coming inside the class, Sirius' pace was put to halt when he spotted her, sitting on her usual table as she gazed into the crystal ball. She looks up to him, probably hearing the sound of the creaking wooden floor when he enters and flashes him a smile, looking surprised to see him yet appreciative at the same time.

“Sirius,” She calls with a pleasant tone “What a surprise.”

He gulps, “I– Uh, I think I left my textbook here.”

“Did you? I think the Professor stacks the left textbooks on that corner, perhaps you’ll find yours there.” She points at a cupboard, seemingly buying the lie Sirius came up with.

“What are you doing here?”

“Crystal gazing.” She answers “Would you like to join?”

Sirius hesitated but found himself sitting next to her, heart pounding loud inside his chest from the close space. Sure it wasn’t the first time they sat next to each other, but it certainly is the first time they’re together with no other soul present. This is the first time they act civil, if not friendly, to each other. This is the first time, after seeing their wedding prophecy, they’re at each other’s company.

“Should we see yours or my prophecy?”

“Yours.” Sirius answers.

“You’d like to see mine?”

“Can we do that?” He asks, completely oblivious of the topic “When I tried it with James he couldn’t see my prophecy.”

“Well, I am not James, am I?”

Sirius smiles.

“Put your hand just above the ball.. Yeah, just like that,” She instructed him, utterly unaware of the nervous havoc Sirius was feeling when she touched his hand and positioned it above the ball “Are you ready?”

He nods.

She begins to cast the spell, something similar to the one James uttered but this one was lengthier. Like she knew a different, more advanced, spell to use for their fortune telling ritual. Sirius' eyes now travels from her to the crystal ball, trying to see what her prophecy would be.

The clear ball slowly turns misty, just like when he did the gazing with James. He could see the Great Hall forming, with its long tables now exchanged with seats filled with who seemed to be graduating students. He could see her, sitting among these students with her eyes glued to the podium where he was shaking Dumbledore’s hand. He could see himself, jogging back to the empty seat next to her with a big bright smile, pulling her close to his embrace once he reached her and sealing her lips with his.

The vision was short. Much shorter than the one he saw with James but the intensity was just the same. He could practically feel her lips on his, the pressure of her body as he pulled her close, and the sweet scent of her perfume that he has just now learned much lighter than a fine spring breeze. It was too real to ever just be a vision.

He looks up to her, noticing her lack of expression, “You don’t look disgusted.”

“Why would I be disgusted?”

“I kissed you,” Sirius says with an unsure tone “You saw that too, didn’t you? Or was that just me?”

She narrows her eyes, “What are you talking about?”

Sirius turns pale, gulping at the fact that he just blurted out what he saw.

He opens his mouth, only to close it again in the lack of words. His brain stopped functioning at the very time he needed to explain something to her. His blood turns cold, scared to death that he’s making it awkward between them but before he could actually pass out, she lets out a heartfelt laughter.

“Merlin, you’re so pale right now!” She says between her laughter “I’m only joking, Black. I know.”

He raised an eyebrow, “You know?”

“Yeah, I know.” She affirms with a nod, resting her hand under her chin as she watches him intently “This isn’t the first prophecy I have that involves you in it.”

“It wasn’t?”

“Nope. I had one too many about you, if I’m being honest.”

“Did you?”

“Yes,” She answers with a smile “Are you going to continue with your two worded question? I mean it’s cute, but certainly out of character from the typical Sirius Black.”

Sirius’ cheeks turn red, turning silent this time.

The glee from her face waters down fast, noticing the silence she’s caused between them. If he didn’t know better, Sirius would’ve sworn that he saw a glimmer of disappointment and heartbreak in her eyes, but why would she feel such feelings, right?

“I– Uh– I just remembered I have this thing to do,” She says abruptly as she she stood from her seat, evidently trying to flee from the situation and packing her belongings “I hope you’ll find your textbook, Sirius.”

And with that, she left.

—-

To say that he feels horrible from how their encounter ended would be an understatement. Something about her departure feels off, like he just did a grave mistake he wasn’t sure what about. The way her smile dilutes and the dimmed glint of spark in her eyes as she left haunts him.

He tries to recall the last moments before disaster strikes. He couldn’t look past the strangeness of how she called him cute one moment and bolted out the door the next. What went wrong?

“Someone’s pinching your bird,” James coos.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, “Meaning?”

“We just saw Lucius asking your girl for a Hogsmeade date.” Remus adds, taking a seat next to him “She didn’t say yes, though. Wait, did she or did she not? I’m not sure, we left before she could give an answer but I’m betting she said no.”

“I bet 5 galleons she said yes.”

“Wormtail!” Sirius says with a pure betrayed expression “I thought you were on my side!”

“I was, but you’re slacking mate.” Peter reasoned with a shrug “Whatever issue you think you have with her is certainly more important to you than the prophecy you’ve seen before your own eyes. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“I’m with Wormy,” James nods “I bet she says yes to ugly snobby Lucius.”

Sirius lets out a gasp, completely surprised at his friends’ betrayal.

“You know what, maybe you’re right. Maybe she said yes.”

“Moony!”

Remus shrugs.

“She said no.” Sirius says with confidence, firmly “She said no, you wanna know why? Because she too saw her prophecies with me. Yeah, prophecies, meaning multiple times. Loads of times. She saw her future with me so she would not say yes to Lucius’ invite.”

The boys look at each other, confused and surprised at the new information dropped.

“I don’t know mate, it seems like she said yes.”

Sirius turns his sight to the direction James was pointing at. There they were, her and Lucius entering the Great Hall with what seems to be the most intriguing conversation ever. She was smiling, her cheeks red from all the laughter. Her eyes were glued on Lucius, as if no one else were present in the room, as if Sirius wasn’t in the room.

Jealousy was never in his dictionary but for the first time in his life, Sirius has never ever wanted to pluck someone and hex them to disintegrate until now. Exactly what can a guy as arrogant and grim as Lucius say to make her laugh like that? No one should deserve to see her bright smile and hear her melodious laughter. No one but him.

“Better work your way soon, Padfoot.” Remus comments “Or else your vision would turn into nothing more than a mere fantasy.”

—-

“Wait, wait!” Sirius shouts as he runs, trying to catch her before she vanishes again “Wait!”

She turns, looking surprised to see the boy with sweat laced skin coming to her. His hair was dishevelled, not that Sirius ever combed it neatly, but much more messy than the usual. He looks as if he’s run through every corner of the castle, trying to find her.

And in reality, he did.

“Black,” She calls, hands folding in front of her chest “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” He nods, catching his breath “Tell me you did not say yes to Lucius’ invite.”

She blinks, looking completely appalled at his request.

“My friends told me Lucius asked you for a date. Please tell me you said no to him.”

A frown forms on her face, “Why do you care what I said to him?”

“Well you’re my future, aren’t you? Of course I care about what you said to him.” Sirius reasoned “Now will you please release me from this torment and just say that you said no to him.”

She stares at him as if he’s grown an extra head. Sirius could feel his feet cold, shrinking down under her gaze. There’s nothing he wished he could do more than to read her mind right now. Something went wrong that day, Sirius knows it he can feel it, he just doesn’t know what it is and he fears that it would only be the gasoline to the supposedly budding romance between her and others.

“I don’t get you, Sirius.” She begins with a disappointed tone “First you act like you didn’t want me to be your future and yet now that someone asks me to be their date, you suddenly want me? How is that fair?”

“Wait, what?” He asked, appalled “When did I ever say I don’t want you to be my future?”

“You’ve been ignoring me ever since you saw that prophecy with James, whatever it may be about, and you went silent when I told you that I know about our prophecies.” She reasoned, her nostrils flaring from the vexation she could finally burst in “It's pretty clear to me that you don’t want me to be in your future.”

“You– You think I was avoiding you because I didn’t want you to be my future?”

“I don’t know, do you have any better explanation than that?”

“Yes,” He answers, only to shake his head the next minute “I mean, no, but–”

Sirius runs his hand through his hair, looking visibly frustrated at the misunderstanding they somehow got entangled in. He looks at her, who's still waiting for his explanation, and flashes her a sad smile. He was never good with words, not at crucial moments like this, but he knew that if he didn’t try tonight, he might as well say goodbye to the prophecies that have turned into the dreams he’s seeing every night in his sleep now.

“Do you even remember when we started to be so hostile to each other?” He asks gently.

She shakes her head, unsure on where the conversation is being directed to.

“I don’t either but I’ve always known why I could never be friendly with you.”

She gulps, asking with a voice barely above a whisper, “Why?”

“Because I don’t believe that someone as perfect as you exists in this world. I just can’t.” He confessed, a shameful smile shown on his face “I just couldn’t believe that someone as smart, as lovely, and as beautiful as you is real and I don’t think anyone is deserving of that. Even for someone as narcissistic as I am.”

“As you are?”

“Especially as I am.” He repeats “And I thought, if I couldn’t love you I should just hate you. Maybe that would water down the affection I have for you over the years and I have been doing just fine with denying my feelings for you until James stupidly made me gaze into that stupid crystal and I saw it. I saw us.”

Her facial expression softens, yielding to the sweet words he’s uttering, “What did you see?”

“I saw you walking down the aisle.”

She smiles.

“And I was there.” He continues “As the groom, if that wasn’t clear in the first place.”

A laughter broke from her lips, easing Sirius’ mind that he could finally diffuse the tension.

“You were beautiful in white.” He adds, eyes full of love and affection “And I can’t wait to finally be on that day so please, for the sake of my pathetic tottering heart, please tell me that you said no to Lucius.”

She begins to sniffle as the beads of tears that were decorating her tears started to fall. Her eyes were still glued on him, watching him as if he was the one thing she ever asked the universe to give and have finally been granted of it. Her shoulders were relaxed yet no matter how beautiful the sight he’s seeing right now, Sirius still couldn’t find peace until she gave him her assurance.

“Please tell me those are happy tears and not because you said yes to Lucius.”

“Oh, bloody hell, can we please stop talking about him? You’re ruining our moment!”

“Well I can’t really enjoy our moment with the possibility of you going on a date with someone else still hanging now, can I?!”

“Are we seriously arguing right now?”

“I don’t want to but it just feels so natural to argue with you.” Sirius huffs “So did you or did you not agree to his date, woman?”

“I did not.” She finally says, mirroring his exasperated expression “Happy now?”

“Very.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“You are very annoying, do you know that?” Sirius asks, his brows still furrow in irritation.

“No, not really. Must have slipped off my mind, just like every other million times you utter it.” She says with her hands now resting on her hips “Is that all?”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, “How do you mean?”

“Well did you look for me just to ask if I said yes to Lucius? Or do you have something else you wanted to do with me other than confessing your, as you claim, pathetic tottering heart?”

Sirius opens his mouth, taking full offence at her mocking of his confession, but her question birthed a new urge in his heart. He’s confessed to her and she has accepted it, so it seems, would it be proper for him now to ask for a kiss? Would it be a proper time for him to ask for them to seal their future romantic endeavours?

His cheeks begin to turn rosy at the thought of finally kissing her. The emotions from the prophecies start to fill his chest, now feeling much less satisfying than how they used to. With her standing in front of him now and giving him the same heart eyes, the image of them kissing now could barely mean a thing as the possibility that such a pleasant gesture could happen any time soon. And he prays to whoever deity up there that it would happen sooner than later.

“So? Do you really just want to confess?” She asks, giving him hints now that she too wanted the delightful image to come to reality “Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Sirius, don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now.”

“You just never know when to shut up, do you?”

With that, Sirius takes his bold steps to her, finally sealing their lips together. He could feel his soul bursting in flames, melting into one with her. He never knew that he was so deprived of such fortune until he finally tastes her, until he finally feels his body pressed into his, until he finally has her.

“Do you still think Divination’s rubbish now?”

“Still rubbish,” He answers between their kisses “Sweet rubbish.”

[say-hi-intrepid-heroes]

alright let’s go over the junior year clues we got in the rick perry documentary thing (disclaimer: i’ve definitely missed stuff, but i think i got the big things, feel free to reblog and add with stuff that i missed though)

[at the bottom of this post I've typed out the decipherable words that plan out some combats and NPCs from Rick's screen. it's the most interesting thing but it's super long so it's at the bottom under a cut]

We get a blurry look at some minis. I’m seeing at least the PC’s minis, as well as what looks like Baxter the Gryphon.

There’s some major shots of this battle. Includes a Baby mini, the Hangvan with some kind of laser canon on top, a stingray-esque monster that is likely Night Yorb (see below), something that looks like maybe an ice elemental or the crystal (see below), and some large bugs and shirtless people. Clearly set in the Red Wastes. Detailed info of the planning for this battle below.

One of the shots had reference boards in the background. One is clearly for the Hangvan (see earlier screencaps), but the other is unclear. It looks like it includes some sort of tennis or tennis-adjacent sport.

Confirmation that Mordred Manor is a set piece.

Finally, one shot showed Rick’s computer screen with some critical info about planning. I’ve put what I’ve been able to decipher below the screencaps. and under a cut, as it’s very long.

EP. 701 DEFEATING NIGHT YORB CHASE (RED WASTES) Hangvan, Night Yorb is giant flying Manta Ray thing? Rainbow road, being chased by night yorb while trying to throw crystal into portal. Crazy gun on rough [roof] that gorgug made, I can’t get a lock on it. Just need one last final thing to defeat night yorb. Red wastes, chasing the night yorb around, flying bats teleporting onto rough [roof] of van, NPC allies, Balthazar, two other cars they are in contact with, tiefling bakers or sidekicks are reveals Stormchaser twister, trying to get a lock onto it, Night Yorb is escaping the world. Maybe night yorb gets away, why didn [didn’t] you get it? And Balthazar died? Murph invented the Night Yorb. Don’t fuck with the Night Yorb. Exploded out of riz’s chest, needs to be dumb as hell. it’s the jabberwocky, it burbled, hugely terrifying, Horrifying cursed thing. Unending night for two months. Dragon sized, bigger than the Hang Van, 30’ wingspan Stars and moon. While the night yorb flies it is night and not day. Not malevolent force, but everything on earth will die Have giant ghost busters canon, Honey I shrunk the kids cannon Driver, mechanic, gunner, navigator (using SW 5e mechanics) Hang Man - Fabian motorcycle Tether is attached to night yorb, either magic or harpoon Night Yorb could out pace them. Could smash van. Cultist of the night yorb appearing on the road, mad max style ”The night yorb is our god” Red Wastes Cultists: Riding skeleton horses, classic fantasy cultists, Manta ray night yorb masks Sword and Sorcery vibes, MUSCELY, oiled, black leather, rings Shadow of Night Yorb Tether must be reeled in over 4 rounds Success Meter - 4 rounds or it escapes Pop up cultists in the middle of the road 4 maps Straight away, gully bridge crossing, rap popping up, giant portal It’s going to another world but if it gets away thats just as bad Ayada [Ayda?] thing built in. Chekov’s gun. Gun has cool helix of energy that is getting cranked in. Gun is on the back and on the hood is a binding circle that Adaine does. Cultists are making the portal. YORBIES if they catch it, it gets bound into the paint of their van Gun is gorgug’s stuff and circle is adaine 6 cultist perusing them, 4 or 5 at the portal, 1 or 2 back up Single person traps, Vulture with cactus MINIS: Night Yorb - Giant shadowy manta ray, inky black dripping, made of liquid, different underbelly, deep indigo or bone white. Made of shadows, dripping aberration, flat plane, long tail, two weird eyes coming off front on stalks. Second set of PCs TERRAIN: Red Wastes! NOTES: favorite crazy dnd monsters, beholder, [unclear word, bu…ette] Fungal Black light portal battle! Dr. Strange battle set, pseudo pods of elder pod night yorb, day glow run fragments, purple stone castle night yorb temple, floor is octopus made of shadows. Starting mid battle. [blank sections] PROJECTION: Counter here of some kind?

POTENTIAL LOCATIONS Basrar’s icecream shop? Mordred Manor Seacaster Manor [crossed out] Strong Tower Luxury Apartments SAT Prep class [screen cuts off]

EP. 704 DENTENTION [detention] STEALTH CHASE SEQUENCE/ QUIET LIBRARY/ Aguefort chase sequence? Combine sets interrupted by having to make it past a hall monitor Underwater? Books suspended floating, everything is affected by water Don’t wake daddy? Start in Library to get to Aguefort’s office Hallway Classroom Bathroom Lockerroom [blank sections] DYNAMIC ELEMENT: Water

CONCEPTS Dicks! SPIRITUAL GUARDIANS - Full service on minis, summons, etc Psycadelic fungal giant, black light, trippy, beautiful Revisiting old set [screen cuts off]

[fyi everything past this point was very blurry, so I could only decipher pieces here and there]

EP. 706 OUTDOOR CONCERT COACHELLA Music feature? Flaming [?], giant [?] [???] Fig and Gorgug on stage [???] Lighting effects, [???] Floating stage or something [???] Demons? PROJECTION: Lasers?

NPCS/ VILLAINS/ MONSTERS/ ETC. PORTER CLIFFBREAKER is secret servant of nightmare king tactical battlefield combat that [?] 2-3 times larger than PCs LED buried inside him [???] Porter was [???] basketball player [screen cuts off]

[the rest was too blurry to make out anything other than a blank section titled ROLE PLAY/ NEUTRAL BOARD and a section that seems to be for EP. 708 and says EXTRA with some blurry words after it]

[battymommastuff]

The Loop [Save it for Later]

Batmom x Batfamily

Prompt: Why is this happening? Why won't it stop?

Masterlist Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

TW: DARK THEMES AND DEATH

It was sitting right there. That object, the cause of all of this. It was right there, but why couldn't they get to it. They could all see if from the corner of their eyes, but something kept them from getting close to it. "We were all touching it the first time. The first loop, we all touched it." Stephanie said as she glanced at it. 

It looked like a creepy item you would find in a fortune teller's shop. A hand holding up a crystal ball. It didn't seem too threatening when they took it from the league, but now they wished they hadn't. "What about Constantine? Before we all passed out, he was talking to...it." Jason said then shivered. That voice was bone chilling. It was nothing like they've heard before. 

"The only way we will know is if we summon him again." Damian said and went to get the paint that was in the same spot as it was the previous day. As usual, you were oblivious to what was happening in the Batcave. 

After they quickly drew the symbol, John wasn't far behind. Instead of his previous attire, he was wearing nothing but his underwear and bunny slippers. "Now what the hell is this? You couldn't wait for me to put on my coat?" John asked as he tapped his foot. Each tap caused the slipper to make a little squeak. 

{}{}{}}{}}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

After briefing John on what's happening, Bruce led him over to the computer where they watched you move around the kitchen for what felt like the millionth time, "So she has no clue at all. She's the only one besides Alfred who is unaware of this loop?" John asked as he tightened the robe that he was given. 

"She figured it out the third time, but it didn't help." Bruce said and painfully relived the nightmare of watching his plane explode with his wife inside of it. He didn't think he would ever be able to get over this. 

Unlike the Batfamily, John was able to look directly at the object. He knew what it was, and he knew what was real and what wasn't. He's seen this kind of object before. In Hell, "Well what you have here is a demon, mate." He explained, and walked over to the object, "This bastard is trying to kill you by making you relive your most terrible fear. It seems you all share the same fear." He said with a small smirk.

"How is making us witness Ummi's death going to kill us?" Damian asked while crossing his arms. This should have been impossible to believe, but after everything they've been through...it was quite easy to believe. 

"That's the fun part, you should all be dead by now. After seeing her get killed the first time, you would have slowly lost your minds and..." John ran his finger across his throat then winced, "Someone else is making you relive this day over and over." John knew it was possibly him doing. He just didn't know how. 

"Tell me more about this music box." 

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Upstairs, you were humming softly while setting up the dining table. As you set the plate of pancakes down, you let out a soft scream when you  saw your hands covered in blood. Then you felt sharp pains in your chest. As if you were being stabbed. 

"Ummi?" You turned around quickly thinking Damian was behind you, but you saw nothing but a wall. What the hell was that? You looked back down to your hands and saw nothing. You slowly backed away from the table and hugged yourself. That felt too real. You could feel the wetness of the blood, and how warm it was. You heard Damian's voice as if he was right behind you. He had to have been...

Then a sickening laugh echoed through your head, and you felt your entire body tense up. 

"Mrs. Wayne? Are you alright? You are as pale as a ghost." Alfred said as he walked into the dining room to join the family for breakfast. He made his way over to your side, and rested a hand on your back in case you lost your footing, "Would you like me to fetch Master Wayne?" He asked, growing more and more worried for you. 

"N-No. I'm fine. I guess all the cooking made me feel a little warm." You said and gave him a small smile. Alfred looked at you unsure, but helped you sit down in your seat at the dining table, "Give me a minute, I'll be alright." You mumbled and let Alfred pour you a glass of water. Alfred wasn't paying attention or he would have seen your head drop for a moment before you sat up...oddly straight.

"I'm going to get Bruce, and the children." You said and stood up. It felt like something was guiding you to the Batcave. 

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"My darlings, it's time for breakfast." 

John was the first to make eye contact with you, and he could tell something was off. Your posture was too...perfect, and the smile on your face wasn't a normal smile, "No one leaves this cave." He said and held his arms out to stop anyone from getting close to you, "They're not hungry love. Why don't you pack it up for later?" He said, and watched your smile drop. 

"It's time for breakfast, they need to eat. You need to leave." You said and stepped closer to the group. John kept himself between you and your family, "Leave John, there's nothing for you here." John chuckled and his hands started to glow softly. 

"Why don't you let Mrs. Wayne go, and show us your ugly face? Or are you too afraid? They know what they have to do to stop you. I know I'm the one keeping them in this loop. It must piss you off." John could see your face contort into one of anger. 

"They'll never get the chance!" Your body then dropped...and you were dead. No stab wounds, or bullet holes. No signs of heart attack. You were just gone. 

"Listen, you have to destroy the crystal. That demon will take her body again, and the next loop, she'll stop you from getting to that ball." John said and made his way over to a table where the music box had suddenly appeared, "Whatever you do, don't let her stop you. Stop this madness." John said as he started winding up the music box. He watched each Batfamily member drop to the ground. 

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"Again, you lost them again?" 

"This time was intentional. It's pissed." 

"Duke, make sure we're ready to handle any medical emergencies." 

"On it." 

"Once more. Once more..."

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TAGLIST

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[bzurk]

sight

It would be too selfish to have all of you - your thoughts, your body, your mind and soul. Simon doesn't deserve it. But he needs it, craves it. So he'll break you down, bit by bit. Because if he can't have you wholly, he'll settle for the pieces instead.

<- part 1 here

part 3 here ->

The nightmare started as all nightmares do—with a creeping unease, a sense that something wasn't quite right. It starts small, like scratching a mosquito bite you don’t notice until it’s already bleeding.

The back of your neck would tingle with unseen stares. Your favourite knife went missing from its hiding place in the med-bay. Your desk chair would be slightly out of place after a long day in surgery. The ballpoint pens you’d unconsciously nibble on disappearing from your office.

Either you were finally going mad, or someone was playing a cruel fucking trick on you.

Weeks after the niggling paranoia came the photos.

You stumble back to your quarters after a long day, boots dragging across the gritty floor, muscles sore and mind hazy. The fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting sickly shadows that dance along the narrow hallway. You stop at your door, keycard in hand, when you see it—something white, peeking out from under the doorframe. You bend down, groaning as your knees protest, and pick up the small stack of photos. The first is simple, unassuming. It’s you, alone, walking through the base, minding your own business. Just you, unaware.

The next one hits you like a punch to the gut. It's you, mid-laugh, half-dressed in the doorframe to your quarters, with Jackson’s hand sliding up your shirt. That was more than a month ago. Your breath catches, heart racing. You flip to the next one. Different guy, different place—your favourite nook in the gym, sweaty and close, his lips on your neck. Your hands start to shake as you look through the rest. Each one a memory, twisted into something filthy, voyeuristic.

The tipping point, the first time they scared you, was the night you found a printed photo slipped under your doorframe after a long, exhausting night in the medical wing. Standard procedure, by now, routine. But the photo was different. It wasn’t blurry. It was crystal clear, almost artistic in its composition. Framed by parallel black lines on the long edges, illuminated only by yellow lamplight. The slim photo is centred on the expanse of a naked back, sat upright and framed by a pair of bent knees, the pair surrounded by mussed sheets and discarded clothes. It had only captured your back, but you knew it was you. It had to be.

Written on the back of the photo, in jagged, scratchy writing:

“You’re wasting your time. They’ll never make you cum like I can.”

That was the moment you realized this wasn’t just a cruel prank. This was calculated. This was dangerous. Your entire life, and the lives of the men you’d fooled with, would be ruined if these photos got out.

But the messages, the photographs—they're like poisonous weeds in your mind, choking out the light. And they're spreading. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched, all the time, even in the supposed safety of your room. The vines and roots had wrapped around your heart and your head, sapping away all sanity, feeding off your turmoil.

Every day, more of them appear—under your door, slipped into your locker, hidden in the med bay. They’re like a disease, spreading, tainting everything they touch. Each photo is a small piece of your life, stolen and corrupted, each message attached a slash to your sanity. The air always smells faintly of sweat and disinfectant, the harsh lights overhead casting everything in a cold, clinical glare that does nothing to alleviate the creeping dread settling into your bones. It feels impersonal, uncomfortable, clinical, this base you’ve spent the last six months at.

You try to ignore it at first. You really do. You shove the photos into the deepest drawer, lock them away, but they fester there, a hidden rot. You start to jump at shadows, every creak of the base’s old pipes setting your nerves on edge. You walk around with a constant buzz of anxiety, like an itch you can’t scratch. He’s there, somewhere. You swear you can feel it, a dark cloud hanging over your head and threatening to suffocate you.

Days turn into weeks. The photos continue to arrive, each more invasive than the last. There’s one of you sleeping in your office, one of you in the women’s showers, in the gym, in the rec room, in the gun range. Each new photo intensifies the dread pooling in your gut. A photo of you in the locker room, half-dressed, with a red marker circling all of the scars on your skin. "Every mark tells a story. I want to know them all. I want to leave my own.”

‘They were just photos’ becomes your newest mantra. They’re just photos. They’re just photos. They’re just photos.

But deep down, you know it’s more than that.

The photos aren't just photos. They are violations. Each image, each message, is a boundary crossed, a line blurred. They are an invasion of your privacy, your autonomy, your very sense of self. And each time you find another one, it feels like a piece of you is being ripped away, exposed to the cold, unforgiving light of scrutiny and judgment.

—

"Fuck!" you exclaim, slamming the cabinet drawer shut with such force that the metallic clang reverberates through the small room. The sound almost drowns out your racing heartbeat. Soap leaps off the exam bed behind you, his eyes wide with concern. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is sharp with worry as he rushes to your side, peering over your shoulder, trying to understand what’s got you so rattled.

"There's another one," you manage to squeak out, your voice trembling and weak.

“‘Nother what?” he asks softly, trying to pry one hand off the desk and open the drawer with his other.

"No!" you snap loudly, pushing against the drawer with all your might as you lift your hands only to slam them back down. The muscles in your arms strain as if they're the only thing keeping something monstrous from getting out. "Don't open it!"

Soap’s expression hardens, a crease forming between his brows as he stares at your trembling hands. “What’s goin’ on, Stitch?” His voice is low, steady, trying to anchor you, but the fear and paranoia are already creeping back in, making it hard to breathe, hard to think.

The image is burned into your mind's eye. You, in your private bathroom under the streaming water with your eyes squeezed shut, tears mixing with the warm water running down your face. A moment of vulnerability that you thought was yours alone. You had let yourself get too comfortable, let your guard down. And now they had seen it, captured it.

"Close the door, Johnny," you whisper weakly, barely holding yourself together. "Please?"

The door closes with a click, the sound of the lock turning echoing around the small, sterile room. Your breaths are coming in ragged bursts now, each inhale sharp and painful, each exhale a desperate attempt to calm the storm inside you. Soap is by your side in an instant, his presence a balm against the raw, exposed nerves.

His hands gently pry your white-knuckled fingers from the desk, and you let him pull you into his arms. You break down, the sobs tearing through you, harsh and uncontrollable.

“Shh, lass. It’s alright,” he whispers, rubbing soothing circles into your back. His voice is a soft rumble, a steady presence amidst the chaos, the rise and fall of his chest like the calming lull of waves. “Just breathe. I’ve got ya.”

You take a shaky breath through your nose, fighting the sobs that threaten to spill over. The air smells faintly of antiseptic and bleach, a combination that does nothing to ground you. “I don’t know what to do, Johnny,” you croak out, your voice raw and broken. “I thought if I ignored it, they’d get bored.”

Soap doesn’t say anything, just continues to hold you and rock you gently back and forth. His arms are solid, a fortress against the madness. Slowly, your ragged sobs subside, the storm inside you calming to a dull, painful ache. A handkerchief is pressed into your palms, and you dab at your nose and eyes furiously before chucking it into the bin.

“Stitches,” he starts softly, pulling you to look at him. His blue eyes are full of concern, the weight of unsaid words hanging between you. “You have to tell me what’s goin’ on.”

You swallow hard; there's a lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. The room feels too small; the air too thick. You're trapped in this moment, in this nightmare with no way out. His eyes are sincere and pleading, wide with concern as his hands grip your arms tightly, grounding you in the moment. The sincerity and sympathy in his eyes force the words out of your chest before you can stop them. You've never broken down so completely in front of another person before.

—

The next evening in the med bay is eerily quiet, the sterile smell of disinfectant hanging heavy in the air like an uninvited ghost. You’re hunched over your desk, pretending to focus on some paperwork, but the words blur together, meaningless in your state of heightened anxiety. The door swings open, breaking the stillness, and in strides Ghost, his imposing figure casting a long, ominous shadow across the room. His face is as unreadable as ever, obscured by the skull-painted balaclava that always makes your skin crawl.

"You look like shit," he says, his voice low and gravelly, each word a deliberate probe. His eyes, dark and intense, scan you with an intensity that makes your stomach churn. He's nursing a cut on his arm, blood seeping through the makeshift bandage, a stark contrast against the black fabric of his uniform.

"I'm fine, Lieutenant," you respond lightly, forcing your voice to remain steady as you avoid his piercing gaze. You get up and grab a suture kit, your hands trembling slightly. "Just a bit tired, that's all. It's getting rather late."

Ghost steps closer, the air between you thick with unspoken tension, a palpable current of unease. "Tired, huh?" He sits down on the examination table, the leather creaking under his weight like a groan of protest. "Seems like somethin' more's botherin' you."

You force a smile, the expression feeling foreign and brittle on your face, tugging at sallow cheeks. "Just the usual stress, sir. Nothing I can't handle."

Ghost narrows his eyes, his gaze sharp and unyielding, like a hawk sizing up its prey. "You sure about that? 'Cause you look like you're about to break." There's a cold, calculating edge to his voice, like he's testing you, pushing you to see how far you can go before you snap. Ghost was not someone you’d had the pleasure of getting to know, and to the extent of your knowledge, this is just how he was. A man of intensity and determination, unfaltering in every task no matter how big or small. A soldier who lived and breathed loyalty to his team – it was only normal that he’d be wary of its newest addition.

"I'm fine," you repeat, more firmly this time, trying to mask the discomfort and insecurity bubbling beneath the surface. The words feel like a thin veneer over a churning sea of anxiety. You focus on stitching up his wound, the one thing you could always control, your unfailing hands and the technique etched into your joints. The suture thread weaves through his skin like a silent promise, each pass of the needle a testament to your skill. The needle pierces his flesh with precise, deliberate motions, the rhythm almost meditative. In this small, controlled act, you find a semblance of peace, a momentary escape from the chaos that has invaded your life.

He watches you closely, his silence heavy and oppressive, like a storm cloud waiting to break. His eyes are relentless, boring into you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. The seconds stretch into an eternity, the only sound the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of your breaths and the crinkle of your gloves with each pass of the thread. You can feel his gaze like a physical weight, pressing down on you, amplifying your every heartbeat. It's as if he's trying to peel back the layers of your composure, to see what's really going on beneath the surface.

The med bay, with its sterile white walls and harsh fluorescent lights, feels claustrophobic, the air thick with tension. Every detail seems magnified – the faint hum of the overhead lights, the sterile scent of antiseptic, the metallic tang of blood. Your world narrows down to the needle and thread, the thin line of the suture a fragile barrier between you and the encroaching darkness.

Ghost's silence is unbroken, his presence a looming spectre that fills the room. You can almost feel the weight of his thoughts, the questions he doesn't ask hanging in the air like unshed rain. His arm, though injured, remains steady, a testament to his own discipline and strength. There's a kind of respect in that steadiness, an unspoken acknowledgment of your skill.

Finally, the last stitch is in place. You tie it off with a deft twist of your fingers, snip the excess thread, and step back, the weight of the moment still pressing down on you. "All done, sir," you say, your voice flat and devoid of the turmoil roiling inside you. "I'm sure you know the drill by now. Keep it clean, keep it dry."

Ghost flexes his arm slightly, testing the stitches. His eyes never leave yours, the intensity of his gaze unrelenting. "Thanks," he says, his tone deceptively casual, like a predator feigning disinterest. He stands, his movement fluid and controlled, every inch the soldier. As he heads for the door, he glances back at you, brown eyes reflecting the cold, sterile clinic lights. "Take care of yourself, Stitches. Wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

The door closes with a soft click, and you're left standing there, your heart pounding in your chest, the weight of his presence still lingering like a dark shadow. You sink into the nearest chair, burying your face in your shaking hands, the tremors in your fingers betraying the façade of calm you've tried so hard to maintain.

The sterile med bay, once a sanctuary of order and control, now feels like a cage, its white walls closing in around you. The fluorescent lights above cast harsh, unforgiving shadows that seem to mock your vulnerability. The antiseptic smell, once a comforting reminder of cleanliness and safety, now only amplifies your sense of isolation.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the air feels thick and heavy, like trying to breathe through a wet cloth. The encounter with Ghost has left you shaken, his probing questions and unyielding gaze stripping away the layers of composure you've wrapped around yourself. His words echo in your mind, a relentless reminder of the danger that lurks just beyond your control.

Each stitch you placed in Ghost's arm felt like a small victory, a momentary reclaiming of your competence and purpose. Yet, as the thread pulled taut, so did the tension in your chest, the reality of your situation tightening its grip on your heart. You can't help but feel like you're unravelling, each new day bringing you closer to the breaking point, the thread threatening to tear.