#found a new brush so i had to also color with it and its so much fun?

[delulustateofmind]

Marriage-Life (One-shot)

A/n: Thank you all for all the love on the Between Worlds series! I promise an update next week. This is just something I thought about while on my walk with my dog :) SUPER FLUFFY!

**Also, it is unedited so fair warning, like a rough draft!**

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Collections of domestic life with Azriel, married/mated for fifty years. 

Warnings: Fluff & crack at times, drinking, some intimate moments. Pet names (Sweetness, My Love, Baby)

Azriel the spymaster was your mate, the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Balancing life with a spymaster was no easy feat. Azriel’s frequent absence on risky missions tested the boundaries of your marriage at times. Yet, amidst the challenges, you found solace in the ways he made up for his prolonged departures.

Like sleepless nights in bed after a long mission…

As you settled in settled into bed, with Azriel lying on your chest, his breathing growing heavy as his eyes were closing. A question tugged at your lips. “Would you…’ you began, hesitating for a moment. ‘Yes, I would love you if you were a worm,’ Azriel hummed, his warm breath grazing your skin.

“Love me if I was a snail” You finished, feeling Azriel’s smirk form against your chest. He gave a soft nip on your breast. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he opened his eyes to look up at you. The hazel eyes looked up at you with amusement you could see his smirk turn smug. 

“Oh sweetness, that changes things” he drawled as he sat up a little, pushing himself up to see your face. You bit your lip trying not to giggle as he continued. 

“I mean, are you a normal snail? Like could I tell you apart from all of the other little snails?” Azriel began, his deep voice filled with a teasing tone. His hand roaming your bonds, fingers caressing your curves. 

You stifle a laugh as his fingers find ticklish spots, “I would be a cute snail, one that you could distinguish from the others”

“A very cute snail…but the fact remains. You would still be a snail” Azriel hummed as he ran his fingers across your curves again. His gaze goes down to your body and back to your lips and then your eyes with a playful grin. A grin that only you ever saw. “I would feel so guilty if I stepped on you by mistake. Can’t have that, can we?” 

Giving him a playful pout, you look at him innocently. “Are you saying…that you wouldn’t love me if I was a snail?” you whisper to him in a soft gaze, as you notice his movements. Azriel grinned again, pushing himself onto his elbows against you as he moved closer to you. His wings continued to drape across the both of you. 

“What I’m saying is I would always have to worry about stepping on you if you were a snail. Which would make being married to you quite the headache.” His hand once rested on the curve of your waist, moved its way to your collarbone then your jawline, and finally to your chin. Tilting your head as he brings himself closer to whisper on your lips. “How about you stay fae my love, maybe in another universe we could be snails together. But this one, I would love to be fae with you.” A gentle kiss was planted on your lips, which led to you both having a very sleepless night. 

****

Azriel never really had much of a sweet tooth, in fact, he typically stayed away from sweets until he met you. When you both got married, you would try out a new cafe once a month, sometimes going to the same one if their seasonal menu changed. 

“Let’s get ice cream today, it’s starting to get so warm out.” You whined as you slipped on a sundress. Azriel in the middle of brushing his teeth as he shrugged and gave the confirming nod. 

One of the best things about Azriel was that he always tried to match your outfits. If you wore a blue ribbon in your hair, he would wear a blue button-up shirt. If you wore a floral sundress, he would find a shirt that matched one of the colors. Today wearing a blue floral sundress, he opted for a light blue button-down and khaki slacks. One of which, he never owned any colorful clothing or anything other than his leathers and a few formal outfits until you two met.

Once you were both ready, Azriel took you on a flight down to the Palace of Hoof and Leaf. A district is known for its food. Once landed, you both walked hand in hand. Shadows trailing the both of you as you walked. Azriel’s huge hand compared to yours as he guided you to a cafe. 

“Feyre mentioned this place the other day” he began as he guided you through the busy streets. His wings were tightly tucked in. “I guess they make the ice cream look cute, like little bears and pigs” he gave you a warm smile as you trailed next to him, giving him a confirming squeeze with your hand. 

The streets were packed today, the market was selling spices, the smell of delicious food filled the air, and merchants trying to gather attention as people walked past. It wasn't until after a few blocks away, that you noticed a cute pastel pink building that had “Ice Cream” written in a beautiful cursive font on the window. You moved your hand from his, moving it towards his bicep as you both walked to the front doors. When you grasped his muscle, he flexed. The pastel-pink building exuded a quaint charm, its exterior adorned with delicate floral motifs that seemed to dance in the sunlight. Inside, the decor was equally inviting, with plush cushions and paintings on flowers on the walls. Along with cute stuffed animals on shelves around the parlor. A beautiful fae girl led you both to a table and placed a menu in front of you both. Azreil looked at you. “Order anything you want. I will just share with you”

The menu was filled with a tempting array of ice cream parfaits, each more enticing than the last. Ranging from little animal-themed ones to flower ones  You ended up ordering the panda, and right when you ordered you noticed there was a drink menu that showed an adorable foam cat latte. You order it as well obviously. Azriel smirks as he looks at you with a smile. People in the ice cream parlor glanced over. A smile from the threatening looks of the spymaster was quite rare. 

You both talked about what other errands you both needed to run, a market trip was due. Luckily Azriel won’t have a mission for a while but will be training with the Valkyrie and having to go to Hewn City soon. As you both talked, you very impatiently waited for the dessert, Azriel held your hand across the table. He was rubbing his finger across the top of your hand. 

“I appreciate you” He whispered so softly that you almost didn’t catch it. You give him a warm smile “I appreciate you too and everything you do.”

After what seemed like forever! 

The ice cream and latte finally arrived, you looked at the ice cream with a pout and looked at him. 

“I don’t think I can eat it, it’s too cute” you pout as you look down at the panda ice cream staring up at you. Azriel had already taken the latte and was about to sip it. As he raised a brow.

“Shall I eat it for you” he teased, flashing a playful grin as he took a sip of the cute cat latte. Something about this intimidating creature sipping a cute cat latte caused your heart to flutter. A blush made its way across your face, even after fifty years of marriage, he still makes you have butterflies in your tummy. You reluctantly used your tiny spoon that was given to you, to poke the face of the little panda ice cream ball on top. Tasting the ice cream, it was a cookies and cream flavor. So cute and so delicious. Azriel teased you by claiming you’re murdering him. You would flash him a playful glare which would cause him to laugh. It was moments like these, that you enjoyed being married to him. 

*** 

Drunken nights, meant drunken mates. 

Azriel arrived at Rita’s to find his mate giggling drunk next to Feyre who was being led away by Rhysand. Azriel’s mate however was still sipping on her drink as he walked over. 

“Sorry, I have a mate,” you slurred, raising a hand to Azriel’s face as he approached.

“Oh, do you? Is he handsome?” He teased in a low voice, taking a seat next to you. His wing brushing against your shoulder. 

“The most handsome man in the whole world, let me tell you if he caught you right now, you would be catching his hands” You drawled with a drunken grin as you sipped the rest of your cocktail. 

Azriel covered his mouth covering a laugh, “Is that so? So he’s like super powerful.” He teased, his tone holding amusement. One of his shadows trailing around your arm. 

You notice it and giggle, “Yeah, my mate has these little shadow things too” You point at the shadow and show it to him. He laughs a bit harder and leans closer to you. You almost immediately recognize him. 

“Hello! My mate!” You giggle as you lean your head on his shoulder. His arm slipped around your waist. “When did you get here, there was such a strange man here” you giggle as he holds you close, placing his chin on top of your head. 

“Just now, how about we head home? Hm?” He hums as he plays with a strand of your hair, leaning back a little to slide a hand under your chin to tilt your face to his to see your drunken smile with a red flush on your cheeks. 

“Can we walk a little?” You smile up at him as you slur a little.

“Can you even walk?” He teases in a low tone, “If you can then sure” 

He pays the tab and walks with you out. A hand firmly on your waist to stop you from stumbling when you both walk the streets of Velaris. If anyone even looks at you stumble they’re met with the glare of the spymaster. You notice a pigeon leaving his arms and make your toward it. 

Tears stream down your face. 

Oh fuc- Azriel almost thought you were about to throw up but here you are giving the pigeons coins while crying. 

“Baby please, he’s homeless” You give Azriel a longing look as big alligator tears stream down your face. 

“The pigeon?” Azreil covers his mouth from laughing, there’s no way his mate is crying about a bird on the street. This is one of her more normal moments. 

“Yes, and he’s so poor. I mean he had no pockets!” you slurred as your voice cracked feeling so bad for the poor pigeon.

“I’m sure he’s fine love, please leave the pigeon alone,” he says quietly as he pulls you up. Perhaps, winnowing home would be for the best. 

[karshown]

[ papamin ] I wish that woman wouldn't stress me the way she does. // f!reader x kento. //

Oh the way Nanami kento would spend every penny, every dime left in his deep pockets just to see your eyes flicker with joy.

You were the only woman

that he allowed close.

-----------------------------------------------------

YOU and your husband were out shopping, Kenji or as you called him, Ji-ji accompanied as he sucked his chubby thumb as if his life depended on it. Few people shot you and Kento various glances, some even went to the extreme by raising their eyebrows.

It was a shock to see him, with a woman like you. To your friends you two were a perfect match, you were classy but kento was beyond that, elegant but even beyond elegant. Maybe it was the fact that you a brown skinned woman with shape, walked alongside a man with lightly tanned skin and on top of that, he had a perfectly tall muscular figure.

You two were wearing completely different clothes at that, you decided to go simple today, as you threw on a tight, long black dress, with long sleeves to add on, it had a pretty perfect fit on you. Nanami naturally didn't settle for whatever 'normal' was to you, he always had to go out of his way with every outfit, he did it without realizing. He wore a black suit that matched your dress, and his usual watch, almost as if he had a major event to attend to but in all honesty he didn't.

You loved how he never settled for the normal things.

You scoffed, Kento shot you a glance as he barely paid any attention to anyone besides you & Ji-ji. His grip around your smaller hand tightened, as he snuck his fingers between yours, you held Ji-ji on your hip. One colorful shop caught your eye, as you and Nanami came to a stop right in front of it.

“This one?” Nanami observed the bright rainbow colors, especially the ones that stood out, the ones that reminded him of you which encouraged him to follow through with your idea. Before stepping in, you handed Ji-ji to Nanami for the time being just so you didn't get too distracted, Ji-ji was in a dying need of new clothes (he already had over 50+ sets but thats not the point.)

-----------------------------------------------------

YOU found 10 new sets only minutes after stepping into the shop, everything was well put together so it was simple to find everything needed. Until you overheard the light laugh of a young woman, still around your age though, but that wasn't what bothered youーit was your husbands voice, too.

"Wheres his mother? or are you not married."

"Actually I-"

"Its fine, its not a shocker that you aren't married, thats how some women are nowadays, sadly." the worker whos name tag read 'Stepphie,' plastered a clearly fake pout on her face, as she put more clothes out onto the racks.

"Baby, whats going on?" you showcased your anger & jealousy in different ways, and just to be petty you had to rub it in her face, you lightly brushed your lips on Nanamis cheek, as he snaked his hand around your curvy waist.

"This is my lady, Y/N, also known asーmy beautiful wife."

You shot the woman an evil glance, as she stood there dumbfounded.

"If you allowed him to finish his sentence earlier, then you would know that hon." You lightly tapped her shoulder as she flushed pink to red, naturally embarrassed.

"M'sorry." she quickly turned away, finding other racks that needed a restock to easily distract herself.

Moments later, you three checked out.

-----------------------------------------------------

"You couldn't tell she was flirting with you?"

"Honestly, no."

That didn't really surprise you, since it took you a good year to get Nanami to realize you grew fond of him, for 12 full months he didn't catch a single hint until the new years party, which even then it took one of your friends to accidentally blurt out the fact that you had a kiddie crush on Kento.

You placed the last bag down, aligning it with every other bag in the truck just because you're a slight perfectionist.

"I'll take your word for it, next time im not letting it slide."

"There wont be a next time, mylady."

"Thats even better," You shut the trunk closed as it clicked, Ji-ji was already in his car-seat & buckled in which left you with nothing else to do except getting home. You turned around to lightly kiss Nanami as his moisturized hand rested aside your lower back once more, deepening the kiss that was originally supposed to be light & short, which turned into long and passionate.

-----------------------------------------------------

pt #2 ,, summary ー

y/n mysteriously finds herself getting sick, in to which nanami takes care of her, trying to slowly aid her back to being her normal healthy self.

--------------> read here !! -- half of what i planned for new years special 📰 '

// now as always, reblogs, notes, etc are always appreciated ,, //

[aerahyasashi]

AERAH, I BEG OF YOUUU, I SAW YOUR POST ON QUOTEV, PLEASE, PLEASE, ATLEAST A SNEAK PEAK OF THE UPCOMING FIC? OR THE ONE WHERE YOU SAID ON YOUR IG THAT YOU'RE POSTING A ONESHOT ABT GETO! PLS PLS, ANY OF THAT, JUST A SNEAK PEAK, I BEG YOUU, I'M GETTING SO FANFIC DEPRIVED AND I'M SUCH A WHORE FOR YOUR IMMACULATE WRITING 😭😭🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐋

“ 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐃 ”

╰┈➤𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒: Satoru’s sister started to have an unusual cravings for blood after managing to tame habakiri, and Suguru is there to help her.

╰┈➤𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: vampirism (lmfao), sexual stuff, cannibalism (habakiri), blood

╰┈➤𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere! Suguru Geto x Fem! Gojo’s Sister! Reader

╰┈➤𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: just a sneakpeek cause i still haven't written the chapter 11 of idiosyncrasies, and this oneshot is in between the timeline of chapter 14-15 and it's a smut one at that LMAO💀 so i probs won't upload it until i finish chapter 14 of idiosyncrasies pookie. And HELP, the new fic i was talking about on quotev is devil in disguise, and i already posted it on tumblr but not in quotev HAHHA. Also, this might be confusing if you guys haven't read the chapter 9 of idiosyncrasies/haven't read idiosyncrasies. I SWEAR, I’LL DO THE OTHER REQS SOON.😭 I just did this one ‘cause i’ve already wrote some of it. Also, hearts and reblogs are greatly appreciated<3

Masterlist

The crimson rivulets of his blood trickles down your chin, the exquisite taste of the sanguine liquid staining your lips. Your teeth bore small smudges of red, smearing them like fallen blood on freshly fallen snow.

Using his unoccupied hand, he cradled your chin, his thumb and middle finger. His forefinger to brushed away the residual droplets of blood on the curve of your lips and wiped them away from your chin too.

“Never thought that you had such an appetite for blood...” he murmured, sensing your touch descending down from his shoulders and going southward on his abdomen. Your fingers sought purchase on his firm abdominal muscles.

“I have an idea as to why you have it though...”

“It’s because you’re habakiri’s owner, isn’t it?” Suguru murmurs, the memory of how you had managed to subdue the bloodthirsty sword, to make it submit to your will without it killing you still lingers in his mind. But perhaps, in doing so, you had inadvertently sated its voracious appetite, if only momentarily.

Your body tenses imperceptibly at his observation, and he responds with a knowing smile, his touch gentle against your skin.

“There’s no shame in it, you know?” he reassures in a hushed tone, his thumb tracing the curve of your lower lip, coaxing it to part slightly.

“And why is that so?”

Curiosity colors your words as you inquire.

“You two share the same traits, that ensures that it won’t eat you, after all, it won’t turn on his master.” he muses with a faint hum, his gaze unwavering.

“Furthermore,” he interjects with a teasing tone,

“It makes you look like a vampire...” He says.

“And.. fuck, it might seem weird but vampires are sexy in my point of view.” He confessed, a laugh bubbling on his throat.

“Hm? ‘s that so?” You asked hesitantly.

“Doesn’t it scare you?”

“Nope, Your predilection doesn’t scare me in the slightest,” he whispered softly, nibbling pensively at his lower lip as his gaze remained fixed upon you.

“In fact, I found it rather... alluring,” he admitted in a low voice.

“Do you truly not mind, then?” you inquired, though his assurance had already been vocalized.

“I don’t.”

“You don’t?...” You questioned, your voice wavering in uncertainty.

“You’re too pure for your own well, Geto,” you sighed, shaking your head disapprovingly. 

The unexpected reaction that Suguru received was far from the jubilation he had expected.

Is the pessimistic trait a common trait inherited on the Gojo clan?

Suguru thought, he wanted to release an exasperated groan; you were single-handedly sabotaging the moment once again. Though he cherished your idiosyncrasies, he longed for you to simply revel in the present moment.

Just as he prepared to interject, your hand abandoned its place on his abdomen, navigating its way to his cheek, tenderly caressing the contours of his face. Once again, your mixed signals were a labyrinth he struggled to navigate. 

“You’re seriously letting a bloodthirsty woman in your bed, Geto?”

Your brows furrowed in a contemplative manner, your delicate fingers caressing his cheek as you tip your head to the side, a look of utter confusion etched upon your features.

“Suguru,”

he implores softly.

“Call me Suguru,” he insists, clasping your hand tenderly and drawing it nearer to his warm cheek.

“Suguru,” you repeat in a gentle whisper, the syllables of his name effortlessly gliding off your tongue.

A contented smile graces his lips as he nods in approval.

“That's it,” he affirms with a quiet hum of satisfaction.

“You haven’t answered my question yet, Suguru..”

You venture forth with your query, your voice barely above a murmur, as his gaze meets yours.

“Ah, about that?”

He inquired, a single eyebrow arching in intrigue as he watched your hand slipping away from his,  The warmth of your touch lingered on his cheek before your fingers finding their way to the bulb of muscle at the neck base, caressing it softly, before your hand pressed onto the twin punctures that you left on his neck.

“I would.” He breathed out sincerely.

“doesn't matter if you're a monster or not...” he whispered.

“I don't mind having a monster in my bed if it’s you,”

Your expression softened at his words before a sharp yelp escaped your lips as he firmly seized your hips, deftly maneuvering to shift his weight and flipping your positions easily so that he’s the one on top of you now.

Your breath caught in your throat, a soft gasp escaping your lips as you sank into the softness of the pillow, your silken tresses sprawling across the expanse of the mattress, you could basically feel the rapid drumming of your heart within your ribcage.

“Want you so bad...” he whispered.

A shiver ran through you, your gaze fixated on his form as he leaned in, lips parted, his teeth grazing his lower lip with a fervor that drew forth an errant droplet of crimson, tracing a path down his chin.

Your pupils dilated at the sight, fingers twitching.

“Suguru...” The word fell from your lips, the syllables laced with a hint of restraint.

“You started it...” he mumbled, brows twitching as he looked at you.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this..” He says in a low voice.

“What were you even thinking?... Climbing onto my lap, biting me, kissing me.. tasting me without thinking that there’s no consequences to that...”

His fingers threaded through the strands of your hair, a gentle tug coaxing you even closer until your lips were mere inches apart. 

“So, come now,” he murmured, a sly grin tugged at the corner of his lips as his onyx colored eyes bore into you.

“Finish what you started, Angel.”

[jintaka-hane]

Laundry in Kuraigana (Mihawk x f!reader)

Masterlist

Pairing: Dracule Mihawk x f!reader Summary: Living in Kuraigana comes with its own set of rules, and with a master as inflexible as Mihawk, they must be strictly adhered to. Frustrated by his lack of attention, you craft a plan to exact revenge through household chores. Word count: 600

Circumstances have brought you to call Kuraigana your home. And it appears you'll be staying there for quite some time until the situation you've found yourself in is resolved.

It's been three months since you arrived and during this time, Mihawk has set up rules and a household routine, creating a semblance of family life with his apprentice swordsman, the ghost girl, and yourself.

Mihawk doesn't employ domestic staff in the castle, it would compromise his privacy, tranquility and security (already quite compromised considering the castle's new occupants). Therefore, you must organize yourselves very strictly following a schedule of tasks that he has assigned to each of you.

Everything must be neat and tidy, nothing can be left for the next day, and unnecessary items must be discarded to avoid clutter.

Like everyone else, he must also contribute to maintaining the castle: the garden, the orchard, meal planning, cleaning the rooms, washing the dishes and cutlery... and doing the laundry.

Laundry is done three times a week. Once with black clothes, another with colored clothes, and another with white and light-colored clothes. Mihawk will not tolerate, under any circumstances, mixing colors or washing delicate fabrics like silk in a non-gentle cycle. Everything must be carefully planned and each week it's someone's turn, expected to separate the clothes by color, select the appropriate wash cycle, hang the clothes, and fold them, dividing them into four different piles, one for each owner. Each person will collect their own pile, clean and dry.

A few weeks after arriving at Kuraigana, you realized that you were starting to feel attracted to the castle's master. His fierce appearance and strength in combat contrasted with the delicacy and perfection with which he organized something as mundane as household chores.

Without daring to confess your attraction, you have been trying to be subtle, taking small steps like lightly brushing fingers when passing the salt, trying to hold his gaze for a few seconds longer than usual when you spoke, or making comments that you thought he might find amusing or intellectual. Nothing seems to work, always so serious, so stoic, completely focused on whatever task he was doing. It is hard to get his attention. Very hard.

For this reason, you begin to feel frustrated. Is this man simply too difficult? Or are you not attractive enough? In any case, this frustration turns into anger... until you devise a plan to teach him a lesson and get revenge.

Knowing that it is his turn to do the laundry this week, you select your most scandalous and provocative lingerie to place in the laundry basket.

And, to be honest, you have quite a collection.

So, you choose shameless bras of several colors and transparencies, daring black stockings and garters, suggestive thongs, and exciting lace bodysuits. If this man isn't willing to pay attention to you, he will realize what he could have had and didn't. The opportunity he missed.

Throughout the week, you watch as your clothes appear hanging in the sun in the garden, alongside those of Mihawk, Zoro, and Perona. Thus, next to a pair of training pants, a simple white shirt and some socks, there is a sultry red lace bodysuit with transparencies.

As your clothes dry, they appear in your pile carefully folded, smelling clean and ready for you to pick up.

"Don't you think Mihawk is more grumpy than usual?" Perona asks one night, watching as Mihawk tries to concentrate on reading a newspaper, with a furrowed brow.

"Grumpy and... distracted?" Zoro asks, also observing him from afar.

"Yeah? I wonder why," you smile.

Alternative ending I

Alternative ending II

[underdark-dreams]

Hi! I love your Rolan fics so much!! If you’re still accepting ideas, may I request one where Rolan & Tav slow dance together? The two of them just finding their own little corner away from everyone and enjoying a close moment together. Thank you! 😊

Rolan x fem!Tav

Starlight

"Happiness suits you." Sometimes a moment alone is all you need. After the Battle of Baldur's Gate is past and the dust has settled, Rolan and Tav find the steps forward.

Tags: Slow Dance, Fluff, Mutual Pining | Word Count: 3.5k [Read on AO3]

The high society of Baldur's Gate had its own kind of dance, and Rolan found that the steps came quite naturally to him.

He had always been made for nights like these: the main floor of Ramazith’s Tower filled with lords and ladies of the partriar families, a sea of color and chatter and pure power in one room. All of them here at his invitation.

Rolan had scarcely gotten a moment alone the entire evening. He’d expected curiosity about the new Master of the Tower, but the sheer quantity of it took him aback.

For all their influence across Baldur’s Gate and beyond, it had come as a surprise just how little these people knew about Ramazith’s Tower and its various inhabitants. Evidently many wizards were territorial creatures who hoarded their lives and their knowledge far away from prying eyes. His previous master certainly had been—even with his own student. Ramazith’s reputation was even worse somehow.

It was a legacy Rolan had no interest in continuing. Knowledge had its own kind of magic; when shared, it only multiplied. To his mind, it was also a misstep to ignore the influence that came along with the role of archwizard. He had just as much of a role in Baldurian politics as he would have to research and educate in the arcane.

Once the dust settled after the great battle for Baldur’s Gate, Rolan put his plans into action. Tonight was the first step toward change. Gathering the high families, opening up the Tower to those outside the magical arts—it was at least a start.

Yet even Rolan found himself tiring of it all after several hours of introductions and political discussions. He had retreated with wine in hand to watch the fete continue from the upper mezzanine. There was only one person left in the room who he really wished to speak with, and he found it challenging to get the timing right. 

For the umpteenth time this evening, Rolan found himself searching the floor for Tav. Even in this sea of people her figure drew his eyes as if she had him enchanted.

After months of only knowing her dressed for combat, it was unexpectedly charming to see her dressed in finery. It suited her. Her dress was cut in a simple but elegant shape, with a high neckline that flowed all the way down to the hem brushing the tops of her feet. 

The dramatic detail was in the back: a large keyhole opening which displayed a very generous glimpse of skin from her shoulder blades down to the curve of her lower back.

Rolan found himself continuously distracted by that patch of bare flesh. Throughout the evening, occasionally in the middle of conversation with a council member, his eyes had been drawn to Tav from across the room. He felt it every time she turned her back to him, and he wondered whether she had any idea what she was doing.

But she was in even higher demand than himself this evening. Unsurprising to anyone who knew her role in saving their city from the precipice of disaster. So far he’d only managed to exchange a few glances with her from across the room, though each time she had offered him a warm smile.

Rolan’s fingers nervously adjusted his own lapel. He’d changed his dress for the evening as well; his new robes were light, fine silk stitched with gold trim. Fitting attire for his new station in life.

It was an odd sensation to finally be free of the metal apprentice’s mantel that used to rest over his shoulders. He felt lighter, less encumbered—and strangely exposed because of it.

“Itchy, right?” 

Cal appeared at his shoulder, tugging on the collar of his own dress tunic. He must have interpreted Rolan’s fussing as discomfort rather than nerves. A misunderstanding Rolan was content to let him continue in.

“Enjoying yourself?” Rolan asked dryly. From Cal’s squirming, he’d already guessed the answer.

“Hardly,” Cal muttered. He gave up with his shirt and took a long drink from his goblet instead. “I barely know any of these people. Well, there’s Alfie, but she told me off for trying to talk to her.”

Rolan glanced to the small platform along the far wall below. Alfira had been almost unbearably gleeful when he’d asked to hire her musical talents for this evening. But to her credit, Rolan had to admit that she was the picture of professionalism where she stood. The gentle stylings of her lute floated to fill the spacious room around them.

“Of course she did,” Rolan told his brother. “Tonight’s important for her too, you know. Rich people always have children who need music lessons.”

Cal let out a sigh. “I guess. It’s just weird having things change so much. Tav’s still okay, though,” he added.

To Rolan’s annoyance, his brother prodded an elbow into his side. “She looks nice, right?”

“Fine. Quit it—” Rolan shooed the arm away with an irritable hand.

“Have you talked to her yet?”

“Too busy,” Rolan replied. It wasn’t quite a lie. Despite himself, he cast another glance around the faces below. Tav’s was currently absent from the crowd—he hoped she hadn’t left for the night.

“Sure,” Cal replied knowingly from beside him. But he only drained the last of his wine and turned to leave. “Just don’t wait too long, yeah? You might be busy forever.”

Rolan didn’t deign that with a response as the younger man made his way back down to the party. Cal was right, and he found there was an anxious buzzing between his ears because of it. With Tav currently nowhere to be found, Rolan decided it may be best to gather his head while he could. 

Quietly enough to not attract attention, he slipped up the stairs and out onto the wide circular balcony. A welcome breeze ruffled through his clothing as he stepped out into the starry evening. Passing through the vaulted doorway was like entering a connected but distinct new realm; the sea of voices behind him faded to a soft hum. Only Alfira’s music carried clearly outdoors and into the night. 

Rolan leaned his free hand on the cool stone railing. The peaceful air soothed his mind—he hadn’t realized that a headache had been steadily building behind his skull from hours in a room full of echoing voices. He let out a sigh of relief.

“Thanks for the invite tonight.”

Just as he’d relaxed, Tav’s voice made Rolan start. He finally caught sight of her leaning against a stone pillar to his right—her dark gown must have camouflaged her. Rolan hoped the low light had made his fluster just as unnoticeable. 

Gathering himself, he lifted his wine in her direction. “I’d be remiss to leave out the hero of Baldur’s Gate from such an event.”

Tav pulled a face at the name, but she approached with her own goblet in hand to join him at the railing. “Don’t you start,” she warned playfully. “I got enough of that inside. Had to come out here for a rest from it.”

“Not much I can do to help on that score, I’m afraid. A lot of people will be grateful to you for a long time.” Rolan watched as she settled beside him, then turned with her to look down at the cityscape below. 

From this height, the lamp flames formed strings of luminous pearls through the streets and alleys of the city. A flock of distant white sails waved in the harbor; trade ships waiting like slumbering giants for the return of first light.

“Nice view,” Tav remarked in approval.

Rolan glanced sideways at her face. For one insane moment, he considered parrying that into a compliment on her appearance. She certainly deserved one tonight. But he maintained his grip on sanity, and resisted.

“So—” Tav tilted her head to meet his eye. “How’s life in the Upper City?”

Rolan knew Tav’s expressions well enough by now to suspect she was teasing a bit. “Busy,” he answered truthfully. “So much more than I expected.”

“Everyone’s certainly curious about you,” she agreed. “If there’s one thing lords and ladies can’t resist, it’s a new face in society. This was genius, by the way—” Tav gestured her wine glass back at the gathering inside.

“Is it?” Rolan was skeptical. “It seems like the obvious move to me.” 

Tav grinned at him. “That’s what makes it so genius.”

The conversation lulled for a moment as they stood looking out over the quiet city. Rolan found that his initial nerves at being alone with her like this were melting away. Speaking with Tav was comfortable; even silence with her was comfortable somehow. Rolan was the first to break it.

“What about you? What will you do now?”

She sighed down at the view below. “Honestly? I don’t know. I’d like to stay in Baldur’s Gate if I can. Too many friends here to think about leaving.”

During the pause that followed, Rolan wondered if she counted him among them. He found it was very important to him that she did. Before he could decide whether to ask, Tav continued.

“I did get a few promising job offers tonight, if you can believe it. Including one from Lord Jannath to join his private council. Or maybe that was a euphemism,” she added.

“He’s a cad,” Rolan said immediately.

“Oh, I’m well aware of Raylen Jannath’s reputation. And I’m sure it’s entirely deserved.” Tav looked over at him with a glint in her eye. “Don’t worry. I’m no wide-eyed babe.”

“No, you’re not,” Rolan agreed. His jaw clenched with annoyance nevertheless. “But you care about doing good. Some people will always try to take advantage of that.”

“I’ll just refer them to my friend the powerful archwizard, shall I?”

Rolan exhaled a sharp breath of laughter and tried to ignore the way his stomach flipped at her choice of words.

“You’re always welcome in this tower,” he told her. “If nothing else, I hope you know that.”

Tav regarded him for a moment. The hand holding her goblet swirled the liquid inside in a thoughtful motion. “You’ve changed a lot, you know.”

He was curious what made her say such a thing. “Have I?”

“Sure you have.” Tav’s eyes still moved pensively over his face. “Back when we first met, you didn’t seem…” She searched for the word. “Well. Interested in most of the others from Elturel. And now look at the community you’ve built. Alfira tonight, helping Dannis and Bex get their teashop funded. Even Dammon says you gave him an open contract for any metalwork anywhere in the whole Tower.” 

“You’ve been talking with Lia too much.” Rolan heard the defensiveness in his own voice, but he couldn’t help it. Something about the way Tav was looking at him made his face warm.

“I’m just saying it’s nice,” she finished with a gentle smile. “I always thought you had a bigger heart than you let on.”

“Yes, yes,” Rolan drawled as he raised his goblet. Tav gave thought to his heart—that revelation required wine.

“Remember that night at the Grove?”

Rolan looked at her over the edge of his cup. “That party at your camp, you mean?”

So casual, so unpracticed—as if he didn’t think of that night often.

“Alfira played this song,” she continued.

Rolan had to pause for a moment to focus on the melody floating out to where they stood. When his ear caught the tune, he shifted on his feet. “Ah.”

He knew where she was going with this, but Tav still went on. “Danis and Bex started pairing people up, and I’d already had far too much wine…so I went on and asked you for a dance. Remember?”

“Yes.” Rolan felt a sudden urge to hang his head. 

Tav’s eyes were shining with amusement. She gestured her glass toward him in an expectant motion, as if giving him his cue. Rolan let out a very reluctant sigh.

“And I told you I wouldn’t be caught dead dancing in such an uncivilized place,” he finished.

“I believe the term you used was ‘common,’” she chuckled. “You always did have a way with words.” But then she glanced down to the drink between her hands. “Actually…it was a bit disappointing at the time.”

Rolan’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

Tav looked back up at him as though he’d grown another pair of horns. “Because I wanted to dance with you, Rolan. Why else?” She shook her head as she turned back to the view. “Wizards, I swear…not everything is a riddle.”

Rolan considered her words, considered Tav where she stood beside him. Before he knew what he was doing, his fingers were reaching for the wine glass in her near hand. She allowed him to pluck it carefully from her grip; her face was a mask of puzzlement as she watched him set their drinks aside on the flat of the stone railing.

Rolan turned back to her. “Let me make it up to you, then.” He extended a hand toward her palm-up.

Tav cocked her head at him. The corners of her mouth twitched as if she thought this might be some kind of joke. For a moment Rolan felt every bit the fool, standing here with his empty hand outstretched. 

Then her fingers raised to brush across his. “Deal.”

He almost certainly had this backwards—weren’t the hands supposed to be the other way around? But there was no time to think about that now. 

Tav took a step closer, her long skirt swinging against his legs. She clasped Rolan’s forearm where it hung at his side, guided it around behind her waist, and then laid her other hand against his shoulder.

The cutout in the back of her dress resulted in Rolan’s skin meeting hers a second time. His mind had somehow neglected to prepare for that; for a few seconds it took all of his concentration to keep his movements smooth and controlled.

Tav began swaying in time with the distant music, just a gentle step side to side and back again. Rolan followed her lead. 

“Is this right?” Tav asked. With her face upturned to him under starlight, she looked somehow younger than her years and experience.

“I don’t know,” Rolan admitted. His head was too full of other things—the softness of Tav’s hand in his, the disorienting curve of her back under his palm, not to mention trying like hells not to step on her. “I’ve honestly never done this before.” 

“Oh, come on.” Tav’s expression relaxed again as they swayed back and forth together. “No sweethearts back in Elturel? I find that hard to believe.”

When was the last time you touched someone like this? Unwelcome, embarrassing, the thought nevertheless sprang to Rolan’s mind. It was certainly longer ago than he cared to admit. Then again, maybe he’d never touched someone quite like this.

“No one like you,” he decided.

At that Tav only chewed the inside of her lip and gave a thoughtful hum. Whether she sensed his discomfort or whether he’d embarrassed her himself, she didn’t ask for details. He was relieved as the subject drifted away, replaced by the distant lute song and the soft rustle of her skirt as they moved. 

After another quiet moment, he felt compelled to speak up again. “You were right before, you know. I have changed.”

“Oh?” Tav looked up at him with curiosity. But she waited patiently for him to continue. Rolan was grateful for it; finding the right words took some thought.

“I suppose I've learned that pride and arrogance aren’t the same thing. Lorroakan taught me to see the difference. As did you,” he added. He swallowed against the discomfort of vulnerability. “I was so damn arrogant then…but I wasn't proud of myself. Not really. You helped me find how to be.”

Tav’s eyes moved back and forth between his as she listened. “Then I’m glad for it. You have a lot to be proud of, Rolan.” 

An odd mixture of feelings rose in his throat; he felt humbled and pleased with himself all at once. It was impossible to put into words. Rolan only bowed his head slightly to her, and the space between them lapsed into a comfortable silence once more.

After a while, the dance relaxed into something more casual. Alfira’s lute had taken up a different tune back in the main hall. Their steps no longer kept time with the music now, drifting along with each other in a new rhythm instead. Her hand had migrated from the side of his shoulder to let her wrist hang limp by his collar. 

As they swayed together in silence, Rolan felt her fingers carding absently through the ends of his hair.

When he caught her eye, Tav’s hand stilled. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he told her. “It’s not unpleasant.”

For some reason that made Tav laugh. “There you go again. ‘Not unpleasant.’ Can’t you just say something’s pleasant and have done with it?”

Though their stance was still a bit awkward, something about having her in his arms made Rolan bold. He looked straight into her face. “Then allow me to try again. You look very beautiful tonight.”

Tav’s lips parted in surprise for a moment. Then she glanced away to the side, and Rolan saw a flush of color rise to her cheek.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “So do you. Handsome, that is,” she added in a rush. “Happiness suits you.”

She had a knack for saying the most perceptive things. Right now, finding himself abruptly launched to the peak of his life’s dream, with the people he cared for safe and provided for, Rolan supposed that he was happy. All the more for the person holding his hand.

“Are you happy, Tav?”

She turned back to him slowly. As she did, her fingers happened to brush against his neck again, sending a shiver up Rolan’s spine that had nothing to do with the evening breeze around them. 

“I am,” she murmured. “Right now…very.”

For the first time tonight, Rolan became aware of just how near her face was. It was tilted slightly up to meet his, and the angle happened to leave a clear path to her mouth. It would take only the smallest movement to close the distance.

And without thinking—just for once in his life—he did. 

As he tilted his head toward her, Rolan felt Tav’s hand curl behind his neck to pull him gently forward. Their lips brushed together soft as a whisper, but the sensation ran through him clear as the ring of a bell. His fingers splayed against the warmth of her lower back, pressing her figure in closer against his own— 

“Rolan, we’ve been looking ev—”

The two of them broke apart as if jolted by electricity. Tav wheeled away, face entirely hidden and one hand clasped up to her mouth. Rolan rounded on the doorway.

“What?” He blurted out.

Cal stood there frozen in place, mouth agape, his eyes flicking back and forth between Rolan and Tav. The air between the three of them was filled with enough raw awkwardness as to make Rolan’s skin crawl.

“Nevermind,” Cal said hoarsely. “It’s—they—nevermind.”

He swiftly turned on his heel and retreated without another word, leaving the two of them standing alone again on their balcony.

But the comfortable atmosphere was gone. Rolan had never felt more uncomfortable in his life. He squeezed eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, allowing a guttural sound to rise straight from the depths of his chest.

“We’ve been alone out here for half an hour—” A few steps away, Tav’s voice was choked with laughter behind her hand. “And the second we even try to—”

Rolan worked his eyes open to glance at her. Her shoulders were shaking with amusement, causing the end of her statement to dissolve helplessly.

“This isn’t funny,” he told her weakly, even as she turned back to him and wiped tears of mirth from the corners of her eyes.

“No,” she said, biting her lip against a fresh burst of laughter. “It’s absolutely hilarious.”

Rolan passed a hand over his face with a groan. “Once, just once, I wanted things to go right with us.”

Something in the phrase quieted Tav’s laughter. Rolan met her eye then, sure she must see how mortified he was—but found a look of delight spreading across her features.

“Us?” She raised her eyebrows at him with a smile.

Rolan could only let out a defeated sigh. “Do I have to say it?”

Tav tried to look like she was seriously considering things, but she couldn’t quite fight back her smile all the way. “Not tonight,” she allowed. “I think you’ve suffered enough.”

“Thank you,” was all Rolan could say. His heart pounded painfully against his ribs from the most confusing swirl of feelings.

They looked at each other for another long moment, communicating a dozen different things without a word.

“Well…” Tav moved forward once more to loop her arm through his. Close beside him, the starlight shone in her eyes. “Shall we go in then, Rolan?”

[ckret2]

Chapter 29 of human Bill Cipher will find a way out of being the Pines' prisoner or so help him, featuring:

Summerween!!!!

and also:

Henchmaniacs.

Kryptos doesn't actually talk like that, it's just how he's currently feeling.

####

January 1, 1982

"You're late," Bill said, a bit reproachfully.

Ford gave him a surprised look. "Did we have an appointment?" He didn't remember one. He was pretty sure he'd remember an appointment with his muse, even if he'd made it in a dream.

"Pfff, appointments are for people without an eternity of time! No, I'm just used to you dreaming by midnight. It's weird for you to stay up past two when you aren't working on a project."

"I suppose it is." Ford was flattered Bill was paying close enough attention to notice his sleep habits. "I thought I'd stay up late to bring in the new year."

"The what?"

"The... new year?" What wasn't registering. How do you explain New Year's to an alien/angelic messenger? "It's when—"

"Oh, oh right." Bill waved off the rest of Ford's explanation. Several calendars and clocks spiraled in the air like a Ferris wheel in front of Bill, "Between trying to figure out whether you meant it was 0 Pop or Tishrei 1, I completely forgot about Chaos 1. You guys have too many calendars!"

And he'd skipped over January entirely. Wryly, Ford said, "The next time somebody asks for my input, I'll let them know you want us to use a few less."

Bill laughed. "Smart aleck." The calendars and clocks vanished. "And all you did to celebrate was stay up a little later than usual? No parties? Okay, I know you don't know anyone throwing a party—but you didn't even celebrate at a bar?" Bill ruffled his hair. "All work and no play makes Ford a dull boy!"

Ford endured the ruffling. He wasn't quite sure whether Bill was scolding him for staying up celebrating, or for not celebrating enough. "I... suppose I could celebrate in here?"

"What do you want, a fireworks show?" In the distance in Ford's mindscape, a single large firework exploded. It shifted colors, purple to yellow to green to red, before fading. "I don't think so! If you wanted fireworks, you should've gone to the show on the lake. I've got some prophecies to pass on, and I'd rather get to them this REM cycle."

By "prophecies" he probably meant a random assortment of warnings about Ford's upcoming week, which historically had varied in severity from "don't visit the lake Tuesday evening or you'll get caught in a snowstorm and die of hypothermia" to "you'd better get groceries in the morning before they sell out of your toothpaste brand." And Ford was always grateful for such messages—but now he wished he could see what sort of fantastical color-changing dream fireworks show his muse could put on. "I take it it's not a new year on your calendar."

"I don't keep track of that stuff. When you're as ancient as me, celebrating the new year is like celebrating a new hour."

Bill had so easily brushed off the implicit invitation to discuss "his" calendar. Ford wasn't surprised. Over the years of sporadic meetings with his muse, Ford had noted that Bill never shared information about where he'd come from or how he filled his time when he wasn't bestowing his wisdom—as if Bill was a thing that simply is, a muse that offered inspiration because it was made to inspire, with no history or identity outside of its role in service to humanity. He always dodged the questions gracefully.

But he never seemed bothered that Ford had asked. In fact, as long as Ford didn't pry into Bill's history and kept his inquiries comfortably shallow, Bill always seemed happy to receive personal questions. Ford had found that even when Bill talked like he was in a hurry, it was very easy to get him off track (and consequently extend his visit to two or three more dreams) by asking him about himself.

Ford wondered why that was. Was it a part of his duty—was he compelled to answer his chosen students' questions, to enlighten them on the mysteries of the universe, to help tug back the curtain of reality to reveal wonders unknown—wonders that included Bill himself? Or perhaps Bill was used to students seeing him as a source of knowledge without seeing him. Perhaps he was grateful that somebody was interested in him enough to ask.

Whatever the case—Bill clearly liked being asked about himself, and Ford liked getting his muse to stick around a little longer than planned. So rather than letting Bill get on to the prophecies he'd promised, Ford asked, "Do you ever... participate in any human holidays? After all, you've offered so much to humanity. I'm sure any of your prior protégés would have been honored to invite you as a guest to our celebrations. I would be honored." And Ford wouldn't mind having friendly company on the holidays that he'd gotten in the habit of ignoring until they shrank to nothing but a square on a calendar.

"Ha, I know you would! But no, not really," Bill said. "Don't get me wrong, it's not that I look down on your cute little local festivals. They just don't have any relevance to me! A celebration of a bountiful harvest, a prayer to get through the winter, the veneration of a local long-dead celebrity... I come from a timeless realm of divinity, sublimity, color and light! Most of your planet's holidays are about issues that don't matter to me."

"Ah. I see," Ford said. "Are there any human holidays you care about?"

Bill mulled over the question. "Maybe one or two."

####

June 22, 2013

Bill thundered down the stairs, charged into the kitchen, and announced to the Pines, "If I don't get to wear a Summerween costume I will literally die."

Without looking up from the morning paper, Ford said, "Then die."

####

It took ten minutes for Bill to bargain Ford up from "death" to permission to wear a costume—provided that it was free; that Bill agree to stay inside for the holiday without complaint (WITHOUT COMPLAINT) no matter what fun activities he heard happening outside; that Ford didn't have to do anything to help Bill obtain said costume; and that Bill take a dang shower.

Bill groaned. "Another shower already?"

"You wouldn't need so many if you didn't insist on running around in an acrylic sweater and polyester leggings in summer."

Bill knew that. That was one of the reasons he did it. It was useful for the humans to think the showers were their idea.

Bill agreed to all terms, and even volunteered to get the dang shower over with now so they could both get on with the rest of their days.

He'd never admit it, but Bill had been wanting a shower. Not for the hygiene, but for the privacy. This was the first time he'd had a door between himself and the Pines since he'd broken the shack's unicorn hair barrier.

Time to call in reinforcements.

Bill covered the mirrors, turned on the shower, undressed, stuck his head under the shower stream so that if anyone barged in on him he could use his wet hair as proof he'd been showering, and squinted through the wooden door to confirm there weren't any humans lurking nearby. Coast was clear—but wow, it hurt to bend his eye that way. He rubbed at it irritably as he set up his ring of candles again, and wasn't surprised when his fingertips came away bloody. He thought it hurt more than it had last time. He wondered how many more times he could glance into higher dimensions before this body's eyeballs gave out on him. Hopefully he wouldn't need them that long.

He drew Kryptos on the floor, lit the candles, and started muttering the chant to summon him. "Rhombus sapphirinus. Fraternitas, caritas..."

The steamy air went chill, the water pattering in the tub grew muffled, the whole world slowed and paused. For weeks, Bill's every attempt to break into the mindscape had been a futile strain; but now, instead, the mindscape surged up and swallowed him into its gray twilight, like evening embracing the land on the heels of sunlight's departure. Bill knew he wasn't awake anymore. It was working.

A force outside of Bill borrowed his throat to speak the last of the ritual—it worked!—and before his eyes, a diamond window opened into the Nightmare Realm.

####

Standing at the edge of one of the Quadrangle of Qonfusion's many perpendicular floors, arms crossed, scowling deeply, Pyronica glared at a neon-acidic cotton candy nebula light years away. "Guys," she said, "it's doing the thing again."

8 Ball, Keyhole, and Zanthar glanced away from their video game toward the nebula. Amorphous Shape peeled a few squares off a column to peer at it with Hectorgon.

"Look at this." Pyronica clapped her hands.

In the nebula, crackles of lightning-like bolts of light millions of miles long shot through the starry clouds. A noise like thunder boomed from it, rattling the Quadrangle. An ugly statue fell off a column-shaped pedestal and landed on a wall.

She clapped twice more—each time, eliciting more lightning—then gestured emphatically at the nebula. "How am I doing that!"

"Can't be you controlling it," Amorphous Shape said. "That nebula's over a dozen light years away. That light had to have happened years ago, we're just seeing it now."

Already turned back to his video game and determinedly trying to murder Keyhole, 8 Ball said, "Maybe the nebula's controlling you."

Pryonica said flatly, "You think a bunch of stars is making me clap."

"Eh. Like astrology or something."

Hectorgon said, "Could be a time loop thing."

"Could be," Amorphous Shape said thoughtfully.

Pyronica threw up her hands, which made the distant nebula's colors shift slightly. "If it's not weird butterfly effects or faster-than-light light, it's time loops. I hate this place. All it'd take is a hard sneeze to knock the whole dimension down."

She'd been saying things to such effect for the past few months. Consequently, nobody really paid much attention to the latest round of griping about the Nightmare Realm's poor maintenance, until she said, "I'm bailing on the Quadrangle. Soon as I can find a decent rock in some other dimension. Who else is coming?"

8 Ball glanced down at Pyronica from the floor with their gaming setup. "Hold on, are you serious?" He quickly had to look away as Zanthar took advantage of the distraction to attack.

"Yeah, I'm serious. I don't wanna break up the gang, but I'm sick of this dump."

Huddled on a nearby wall like an unemployed gargoyle, Paci-Fire said solemnly, "I will stay, Mother. The Quadrangle of Qonfusion is the only home I have ever known."

"Probably one of my worst life decisions," Pyronica muttered. "The Quadrangle isn't our home, it was Bill's. We're just... just..."

Ducking in from between two columns that seemed to lead to a purple-shadowed nighttime meadow, Teeth said, "Eternal couch-surfers."

"Ha! Yeah, that. Hey, where you been the past week?"

"Took a wrong turn to the bathroom. I ended up in that pocket dimension Bill grounded the electrical wiring into."

"Again?"

"I never know how many times to cross that one infinitely looping hallway!"

Pyronica gestured at Teeth. "See, this place is a complete mess. We'd be better off moving to any other dimension. And you'd like living in a real dimension if you gave it a shot, Paci!"

"No." Paci-Fire crossed his arms. "I do not want to."

"At least think about it. Wouldn't you like to live somewhere that has moons? Instead of going on a road trip to another dimension every time you want to drive a civilization to extinction?"

Keyhole muttered, "I hate those stupid road trips. They're always a zillion light years long and we never do anything fun."

"Hey!" Pyronica pointed at Keyhole. "Watch it! My kid's a lunarcide prodigy, he gets to go on as many moon-destroying trips as he wants!"

Keyhole cringed. "Right, right, sorry." 8 Ball muttered something disparaging about Keyhole's intellect, right before blowing him up for the second time.

Paci-Fire asked, "And say we were to move to a dimension with more moons. What would we do when the authorities follow us home after another successful slaughter?" A side-effect of growing up in the Henchmaniacs was that Paci-Fire regarded The Authorities as a nebulous bogeyman that was personally out to get him and all his family and friends. "Are we to lock the door and cower from them like—like cowards? Or constantly flee from one dimension to the next? No, Mother. I do not wish to live like a pariah in the dark corners of—" his lower mouth sneered around his pacifier, "civilized dimensions. There is nowhere safer for us than the Nightmare Realm."

"Sweetie, you don't have to be afraid of the authorities in other dimensions—"

"Mother! I know no fear." Paci-Fire's eyes flared a bright, dangerous red.

Pyronica playfully tugged one of his horn. "We can find a dimension as primitive as 46'\ without any interstellar cops. Like—which dimension were you from, Teeth, it doesn't even have any organized space authorities, does it?"

"Oh, yeah, pretty much every world in my galaxy was still ground bound when Bill recruited me." Teeth stepped on a column, slid off, and shuffled around it, trying to remember which side doubled as a walkway to the kitchen. "I don't really mind staying here, though. I mean yeah, we don't have a roof, or consistent walls, and the wiring's a mess. But the rent's really reasonable for a place this size in this part of the Nightmare Realm."

Hectorgon processed that. "Hold on." He lay on a wall and slid up it until he was mouth level with Teeth. "You've been paying rent?"

Teeth paused mid-column. "Wh—yeah? What's that supposed to mean?"

Pyronica bit her lip to keep from laughing, elbowed Paci-Fire, and hissed, "I thought Bill was joking about charging Teeth rent!"

Paci-Fire murmured, "Bill Cipher was always a most droll prankster."

"Who are you paying it to?" Hectorgon asked.

"I mean—I was paying it to Bill. But I dunno who took that over, so I guess, kinda... no one?"

With a mildly offended tone, Hectorgon lied, "You were supposed to give it to me now."

"Oh." Teeth shifted awkwardly. "Uh... sorry, Hect, no one told me. I don't think I've got enough on hand to cover all the..."

"It's fine, everything's been topsy-turvy since... the last few months. Just give me what you have and pay back the rest as soon as you can, okay?"

"Sure, sure, no problem. Thanks, man."

Pyronica bit her lip to keep from laughing. "All right, so Teeth is stupid enough to stay here."

"Hey!"

"But I don't see why the rest of us should be." She looked up at the trio playing games below her, then tried to remember which stupid paradox staircase led to that level. She hesitantly headed up one that looked promising. "Moving out would be worth it just to be somewhere with consistent physics!"

"I am contented with the inconsistent physics," Paci-Fire said.

"It took you fifty years longer than most kids to learn how to walk," Pyronica said. "I know you're my little genius! It's this dimension that's holding you down!" 

"Boo," Paci-Fire said sulkily.

"Paci, you don't even like the Quadrangle. Nobody does."

Amorphous Shape let out a chorus of sharp gasps. They slid around a corner and reappeared sliding from the underside of the staircase to the top, laying zigzag atop the steps to glare at Pyronica. "Excuse us."

"I'll step on you, Morph," Pyronica threatened. Amorphous Shape grudgingly slid over for her to pass. "Fine, Bill's stupid 2D groupies like the Quadrangle. But the rest of us don't."

"What's wrong with it?" Morph demanded.

"What's—?!" Pyronica gestured upward at the floor below them. "You don't see the problem with this?!"

"It's supposed to be like that. It's a shortcut." 

"It's a—!" Pyronica covered her face and suppressed a scream. "It's giving me vertigo!"

"It doesn't give us vertigo," Morph said defensively. They partially peeled off the steps to look at Hectorgon. "Does it give you vertigo?"

"No, I'm fine."

"What about you, Kryptos?"

There was no answer.

"Krypt?" Morph reluctantly peeled off the stairs entirely and hovered in the air to try to get a better view.

"He probably got sucked into The Void," Keyhole muttered, "it was vibrating this morning."

8 Ball sighed. "Why do we even have that Void?"

"Man, I dunno."

Pyronica ascended to the bottom of the stairs, sat on the arm of the gamers' couch, and said, "The point is—none of us need this place. I got by fine before joining Bill, most of you guys did too, and we can get by just fine now without squatting in his weird architecture project."

She leaned behind Keyhole and 8 Ball to poke Zanthar's arm. "Big Z, you still have worshippers in your home dimension, right? Aren't you still getting offerings?"

Zanthar shrugged noncommittally.

"They've still got legends of you, you can whip them back into shape in no time. Keyhole, you've got family—"

Without looking away from the screen, where he was losing hideously, Keyhole muttered, "I'm not moving back in with my mom."

"I'm not talking about your mom, stupid, what about your sisters?" 

Keyhole winced, though it was hard to tell whether it was from Pyronica's question or from getting killed for the third and final time. "I don't know... Bill and I were talking about them once, and I realized they're as bad as Mom was. Bill said probably the only reason they didn't treat me as bad is because they never got the opportunity—"

"Who cares what Bill said," Pyronica snapped. "Bill's dead! We don't have to listen to him anymore!"

"Hear hear," 8 Ball muttered; but he couldn't throw in anything else, lest Zanthar blow him up and win the match.

Pyronica said, "Face it: the only reason the rest of us didn't leave the Nightmare Realm millennia ago is because Bill couldn't leave."

Morph drifted through the kitchen—reaching around Teeth to grab a drink out of the fridge as they passed—and unfolded questioningly around a corner. "There you are."

Kryptos was in the rec room, lounging on Bill's stupid tacky optical illusion throne with the fabric of reality upholstery, staring out a window (or skylight, depending on your point of perspective). He grunted at Morph.

Morph said, "Bill's gonna be furious you're using his throne."

"Whatever. Z's already spilled time punch on the armrest." Kryptos pointed at the patch of reality on the armrest that was out of chronological synch with the rest of the throne.

"He's not gonna be furious," Pyronica said, shouting through the doorway that inexplicably connected to the rec room. "He's not gonna be anything because he's dead. He died. D-E-A-D."

"He's not." And suddenly Morph were in Pyronica's face, all of their polygons and lines and piercing slitted eyes circling her head like angry moons. Keyhole leaned toward 8 Ball to see the screen around them, and 8 Ball elbowed him back over. Morph said, "He can't be. If Bill was dead, the Nightmare Realm would be falling apart even faster—"

"So let's bail while we can—"

"—but it's not," they said. "If anything, its degradation is slowing down. That would be impossible if he were dead, he's instrumental to holding the Nightmare Realm together—"

"Unless he lied about that, and he was actually making everything worse," Pyronica said.

"Bill's not a liar! We have the data to prove it, we've been measuring the degradation for billennia—"

"I'm sick of your stupid measurements! It was your 'measurements' that said 46'\ was perfect to take over! Was that stupid barrier part of your measurements?!"

"That barrier was extremely localized, there's no way we could have detected—"

"The portal was right in the middle of it! How did you idiots miss it?!"

8 Ball groaned as Zanthar whittled away the last of his HP. Zanthar let out a gentle hum like the sound of an apocalyptic vacuum cleaner as the game declared him the winner.

8 Ball tossed his controller at the TV. The TV squealed in fear. "If Bill is alive, that's just another reason to get out of the Nightmare Realm! Leave before he gets back! He can play king in this dump by himself."

Paci-Fire said, "Surely, you do not mean that. Were Bill still around..."

"No! No, I do mean it! The only reason we've stayed so long is because everyone's too starstruck or too scared to ditch him! Not anymore! If his flat-brained cultists wanna wait for him, fine! But why do we all gotta stay?"

"Hey!" Hectorgon rushed in from the kitchen to snarl at 8 Ball. "Who're you calling flat, cue tip—?"

Kryptos tuned out the argument downstairs/next door as 8 Ball and Hectorgon started brawling. Who were they kidding? Nobody was leaving. Maybe 8 Ball, he'd tried to split four or five times before crawling back, but Kryptos didn't care about him anyway. Bill had always been right about him: he was too selfish to care about the rest of the gang but too stupid to make it on his own. They'd taken in losers like that before and it had never been a big loss when they left. But no one else would leave. Where would they go?

Where could they go?

Kryptos didn't care about the outerplanar Henchmaniacs' reasons for joining Bill; but the shapes were here because Bill had promised to make them a new home. He was the only one in all of reality who could do it. Kryptos was as desperate to hear from Bill as Morph and Hect were. They'd held fast to Bill's promise for a trillion years—so how could they let go of whatever thin thread of that hope remained? Who would they be if they lost it?

But in his heart, Kryptos didn't really believe Bill was out there. He'd been gone too long. And Kryptos couldn't imagine anything less catastrophic than Bill's destruction could have reversed Weirdmageddon.

Yet he was still here, and still waiting, because he didn't know what else to do. He'd stay in the Quadrangle until the whole realm finally fell apart, just in case Bill casually floated back in one day. He'd do anything they could think of to find him and bring him back.

And then Kryptos got a call from Earth.

He sighed heavily.

Calls from Earth weren't unusual. Perks of having helped found the Fishmasons: Kryptos was occasionally summoned by the Fishermen high-ranked enough to be told their organization really did know an interdimensional alien who was their de facto secret leader and presided over their most important rituals. Assuming "de facto secret leader" meant "living equivalent of a beloved sports team mascot," and "presided over" meant "got free invitations to," and "most important rituals" meant "most fun parties." But the humans liked to pretend that their little group was a lot more important and cloak-and-dagger than the social club it really was; and all the wink-wink-nudge-nudge pretending-Kryptos-was-in-charge, while silly, was also kind of flattering. You didn't get many chances to be the star of the show when you lived around a supernova like Bill.

So, Kryptos got calls from Earth from time to time—at least a handful a year—typically from a middle-aged man in a business suit trying to pretend he wasn't giddy about being the guy who'd gotten permission to pull out the candles and contact The Alien.

Kryptos was not in the mood to talk to humans. Humans were why they were in this mess. Humanity could go jump in a lake.

But it wasn't every human's fault that a handful had somehow taken out Bill. And maybe they were calling for a party. Maybe it would cheer him up.

So he sighed again, half heartedly shouted, "Guys—guys, shut up a second, I'm getting a call," and opened up a window to Earth.

His vision was filled with a brown-skinned golden-haired haunted-eyed human who, at the sight of Kryptos, gave him a relieved, face-splitting smile. "H—"

Kryptos hung up.

To reiterate: he took calls from middle-aged men in business suits. That was a naked woman crouched on the floor like an animal.

"Who was it?" Hectorgon asked.

"No one. Some woo-woo witchy type who probably dug up a leaked Fishmason ritual online."

Hectorgon laughed. "I bet it thought it could ask a 'demon' for lottery numbers."

"Sorry, sister, but that's Bill's schtick," Kryptos said. "My number is unlisted for a reason."

Kryptos wondered about Bill's human pals. Well—"pals" was a bit of a stretch—devotees and students. How often did he get calls? And now they couldn't reach him.

Stinks for them. Must be awful, reaching out to someone in another dimension for help and getting nothing back.

####

An ethereal, sourceless voice whispered in Bill's ear, "The all-knowing dream demon you're trying to reach is currently unavailable for visions and prophecies. If this is an emergency, wake up and call your nearest Masonic lodge. Otherwise, please leave your prayers or petitions after the beep." Beep.

Bill stared, jaw dropped, at the empty patch of air where Kryptos had been projecting just a moment ago. After several seconds of mute outrage, Bill said, "Kr... Kryptos. You... I swear, if you don't get back here this SECOND—"

The sheer force of his anger woke him up. His eyes fluttered open to the world of color and humidity and pattering water. He grabbed every towel he could reach, wadded them up, and screamed into them. "KRYPTOS YOU SON OF A— I KNOW YOU NEVER CHECK YOUR VOICEMAIL! AND WERE YOU ON MY THRONE, WERE YOU SITTING ON MY SPECIAL THRONE—!"

He shrieked until his lungs were empty.

####

At sixty minutes exactly, Ford knocked and opened the bathroom door. Bill stood scowling behind it.

Dryly, Ford asked, "Have a pleasant shower?"

Wet hair hanging in tangles, face flushed red, eyes even redder, Bill snapped, "Yeah. Refreshing."

####

"Mabel?"

Mabel glanced down from the stepladder at Bill, then pointedly looked away and continued taping Summerween decorations to the hallway wallpaper. "What."

"Mabel," Bill tried again, a touch more pleading. "O great Shooting Star. My hero. My one and only friend in this hostile universe. Last person who hasn't utterly forsaken me." He leaned on the wall, the back of his hand pressed to his forehead. "The sole illumination in the dark night of my accursed postmortem existence—"

Mabel grudgingly looked at Bill again. "What do you want?"

"Listen: I know I upset you at the mall, and I still need to make it up to you—I do, I do, I just haven't had a chance yet—and you're still a little mad at me, okay—buuut... can you help me make a costume." He pressed his hands together. "Please. I'll owe you one. I'll be in your debt. Just let me dress up for Summerween."

Mabel frowned at him. She frowned a little more. She said, frowning, "You're so lucky I love costumes."

####

(Next week: Summerween part 2!! Thanks for reading, if you enjoyed I'd love to hear from y'all what you think! I've been waiting to get to the Henchmaniacs for a long time. Mainly in the hopes y'all will yell at me for putting Bill through heck again.)

[fanficsformyfaves]

I Can See You

Loki Laufeyson x Fem Avenger!Reader

WARNING: SMUT 18+, Semi-Public Sex, Oral Sex (R Receiving), P in V Sex, No Protection (This is fiction, you are not, WRAP IT UP), Choking (R Receiving), Fraternizing Between Co-Worker, Mentions of Loki Being Able To Read Minds, Secret Relationship, Mentions of Hickeys, Jealous!Loki, Mentions of Masturbation (Reader), Mentions of Loki getting slapped, Mentions of Alcohol, Drunken Confessions, Reader has Dark Humor

PREFACE: Loki and Reader were the newly recruited Avengers, who everyone thought just hated each other, but unbeknownst to them, they were a lot friendlier when no one was watching

A/N: Flashbacks In Italics!

Earpiece Monologue In Bold and Colored!

Loki changed after the events of Avengers 1 and gets recruited in this A/U!

"So sweet", he groaned against my cunt,

Pounding his fingers into me, as his free arm wrapped around my leg to hold me in place. How we ended up in the janitor's closet was actually quite the story.

"Don't stop, please!", I whined,

"Oh, I don't plan on it", he grinned.

Loki and I met a few months ago, when we were both recruited into the Avengers and at the beginning, we actually didn't get along.

All I'd heard about the God of Mischief prior to meeting him was that he invaded and nearly destroyed the city of New York, so to say I wasn't his biggest fan would've been an understatement.

"Welcome to the team, kid", Steve nods,

"Thank you", I smiled,

"This is great! Now we have two extra sets of hands to help with the work load!", Thor roared,

Causing me to look back at him in confusion.

"Two?"

That's when the original six turn to each other, awkwardly.

"Well, go ahead, Captain Thunderpants, it was your idea", Tony snipped.

My eyes meet Thor's, curiously.

"Well...there may be...a new recruit"

"Really? Who?", I questioned,

"Uh...", he looks to his friends for help,

"Don't look at me", Nat refused,

"Not a chance in hell", Tony also declined,

"Steve? Banner? Barton?"

"We're good", Bruce answered on behalf of the other men.

"Oh, come on, how bad could it be?", I asked.

Just then, the door slides open, revealing the devil himself.

"Team", he greeted,

Letting himself in, before his eyes fell upon me. My head snaps back in Thor's direction, who had already taken three steps back.

"Loki?!"

"Yes?", he answered.

After letting out a deep exhale, I began walking up to him.

"I don't think we've officially met-"

Unable to control my anger, I slap him hard across the face, bringing shock to all parties in the room.

"That was for New York!"

Smirking, he turns back to me, before looking over at his brother.

"I like her", he teased,

Making me groan in disgust.

For the next following weeks, I tried my best to avoid him at all costs and my plan was going according to how it should...till that the damned mission.

I was fighting off one of the Ultron bots and failed to see one charging up at me. Just as I was about to be blasted by the ray of its laser, I was pushed out of the way and pinned to the wall, left to watch another building collapse from it's lethal impact.

I turn to see who it was and there stood Loki, holding me in place by the small of me waist.

"You alright?", he questioned.

His eyes pouring into mine with such concern. All I could focus on was how little distance there was between us. My lips barely an inch away from his.

Once I realized what was happening, I snapped out of it.

"I'm fine", I said dismissively,

Before getting back to work.

Tony: Pretty cozy lookin', you sure we didn't interrupt something?

(Y/N): Shut up, Tony

Later that night, I found myself restless and unable to fall asleep. All I could think about was him and how his body felt...right against mine. How his lips were just right at my own, almost brushing against them.

I knew it was wrong, but the more I thought about how intense that moment was and how willing he was to risk his life for mine, the less I grew to despise him.

I touched myself all night to the image, till I was all tuckered out and able to drift peacefully off to sleep.

A day later, during the blowout celebration for destroying Ultron, I decided the only way I could ever face Loki again was to drink.

Sure, one or two shots would've sufficed, but alas, I got carried away and ended up somewhere near ten. Don't ask.

"Okay, you're cut off", Steve says,

Trying to take the shot glass away from me.

"Boooo, what are you my dad?"

That's when the captain's eyes widen.

"Oh shit, he's dead", I say,

Right before bursting into laughter.

"That calls for another shot!", I sing cartoonishly,

"No-"

"I've got this", a low voice says from behind me.

I look over my shoulder and roll my eyes, groaning. This man was just always somehow at the right place, at the right time.

"You sure?"

"I am, thanks", Loki reassured,

Steve nods and walks off.

"A water, please", he asked the bartender,

"I don't need you to babysit me", I slurred,

"Well, stop acting like child and I will"

"Pffft, you're lucky you're as hot as you are. I wouldn't take this shit from anyone else", I accidentally confessed.

The moment I saw his eyes widen and his fine lips curl up into a grin, I felt the realization of what I'd just done hit me.

"Don't you dare tell anyone I said that!", I warn,

Leaning forward to point, when my elbow slips off the table. Luckily, he caught me before I met the hard floor.

"Alright, let's get you to bed", he struggled,

Before throwing me over his shoulder and using his free hand to keep my dress from rising.

If it hadn't been for the loud music and crowd of people dancing, the team would've seen us and gods knew, they'd never let me live it down.

I wake up being greeted with a splitting headache and the sun shinning impossibly bright through the gap in my curtains. I was beyond relieved to remember that it was Saturday and I could take my time recovering from this hangover.

Pulling the comforter off me, I noticed that I hadn't taken off the dress I wore the night prior. As a matter of fact, I couldn't even remember how I made it to my room.

I groan to myself, eventually getting up and heading to the kitchen, but as I did, I find Loki making himself a cup of coffee. He turns to face me and grins at my less-than-stellar state.

"Morning. Care for a cup of coffee?"

"No, thanks", I snipped,

Making him scoff to himself.

I grab a bowl and began pouring in my cereal, before adding the milk and taking a seat at the dining table.

Once Loki's was done stirring his coffee, he takes the chair, right across from me. As inappropriate as it was for me to shamelessly stare at his toned arms, I couldn't seem to stop myself.

"Enjoying the view?", he remarked sarcastically,

Snapping me out of my daze.

"Bold of you to assume I was enjoying it"

He shakes his head, smiling to himself.

Curiously, my brows knit together, as my eyes narrowed at his reaction.

"What?"

"Nothing", he coyly replied.

Something was off. His once-passing glances were now longer and focused on places I'd never seen them on before. My lips, my collarbones...my chest. I couldn't help but blush at the sudden attention.

Not wanting to delve too deeply into it, I brush it off and avert my attention back to the breakfast before me.

"So?"

I look up from my bowl of cereal.

"Are we going to talk about it?", he questioned,

"Talk about what?"

"The delicious little confession you made last night"

"What are you-"

Fuck, I thought to myself.

"Ah...so you do remember?"

"I don't know what you're talking about", I rushed,

As I got up and abandoned the bowl, trying to escape the awkward encounter.

"Oh, I think you know plenty", he challenged,

Trailing behind me.

"I was drunk, obviously what I said didn't mean anything"

"Oh, darling, try as you might, I know it to be true"

I turn to tell him off, when I was met with him being closer than I anticipated. He brushes a stray hair from my face, causing a breath to hitch in the back of my throat.

"You've thought about it. You've thought about all the dirty little things you wish I'd do to you. The only person denying it...is you"

I was at a loss for words. All I could do was focus on keeping my knees from buckling, as he spoke to the deepest parts of my longing. He leans forward, now holding the side of my face and pouring his baby blue eyes into mine.

"These walls may be soundproof, but your thoughts...they're just so loud", he brushes his fingers down my arm,

"I couldn't help myself from taking a little glimpse into that pretty head of yours...do not get in the way of your own pleasure", he whispers.

My skin was on fire and my heart was threatening to give out. Any sense of reason disappeared the moment his hands abandoned my warm cheeks and trailed down to the sides of my waist. With no reservations left in mind, I grab him by the back of his neck and crashed my lips onto him.

I was then thrown into the air and my legs instinctively wrap over his hips. My tongue darting out, meeting his in a heated exchange.

"Just this once", I pulled away.

Well...lets just say that was a blatant lie.

We met almost every night since that day and neither side had any complaints. In each other's rooms, the showers, the kitchen island and couches when no one was in.

It felt almost impossible to keep our hands off of each other. He was a god after all and he sure did fuck like one.

But not all was fair in love and war.

He always felt the need to mark his territory. For instance, the Hickey incident, when Loki left one the size of an orange on the side of my neck.

"Steve was on my ass for this today", I say,

Trying to conceal the mark with makeup.

"He could only ever dream of it"

I playfully rolled my eyes, continuing to cover it up.

So, it should've come as no surprise to me, when I was yanked into the closet, after being overheard playfully flirting with Thor by Loki. Unbeknownst to him, that was my plan all along. To get him so frustrated, that he was left with no choice but to screw me out of my mind as a lesson.

He was always so possessive. Not that I minded.

As a matter of fact, it turned me on more than anything, knowing that it drove him up the wall, seeing me receive attention from anyone, other than him. Call it evil, but I liked the power I had over the god and it seemed like he was more than okay with giving it to me. Even MORE okay with taking out his frustrations on me during our intimate moments.

After effortlessly making me come undone on his skilled tongue, I was immediately flipped onto my stomach with no chance of catching a breath. I hear the sound of his belt being unbuckled and his pants hitting the ground around his feet.

"You just love how riled up I get over you, don't you? Purposefully throwing yourself at my brother of all people, simply to get a reaction out of me? Not a smart move, pet", he groaned,

Before finally impaling me in one thrust. I gasp at the sudden fullness and his hand reaches from behind me, using my throat to hold me taut against his expensive white button up shirt.

"Now now, we wouldn't want anyone to find you in this compromising position, now do we? With your hair a mess, your lipstick smeared and my cock buried deep inside you?"

He pulls away slightly, only to thrust back inside me with a newfound harshness. Not that I minded, but this time felt...different.

His pace was brutal and desperate, like he had something to prove. The angle allowing him to fill me to the hilt.

I could feel the tip of his cock repeatedly hitting me right where I needed it to.

"Loki", I quietly moaned into the air,

"Such a sweet girl. Letting me ruin her right next to our co-workers", he groaned against the skin of my neck.

The coil in the pit of my stomach began to heat up and tighten. The closer I was to my next climax, the more wanton cries of pleasure began escaping my lips.

"I feel you pulsing around me, darling. Let go for me. I'm close", he grunted against my ear.

With his hips faltering and going faster and faster, I was left at the mercy of my climax overwhelming my senses and rendering me weak and limp.

Within the next few seconds, Loki paints my clenching walls with hot ropes of white, moaning into the shell of my ear.

Once I had somewhat come down from high, I caught my breath.

"They definitely heard us", I exhaled,

Causing him to chuckle tiredly.

"Good. At least now they'll know who you belong to"

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Part 9 - left its seeds while I was sleeping

“Hello darkness, my old friend. I’ve come to talk with you again. Because a vision softly creeping, left its seeds while I was sleeping. And the vision that was planted in my brain still remains within the sound of silence.” -The Sound of Silence by Disturbed

Masterlist Part 8

It was the lack of air in her lungs that woke Jazz up, gasping for air and fingers desperately trying to find a beating pulse at her neck. 

With a sigh of relief, Jazz rested her palm against the beat, counting as it started to settle into a resting pace again. 

Another nightmare. 

Back in Danny’s memorial Jazz had converted from a maintenance access space, she had slept there one Christmas weekend as she learned her little brother would truly never have a peaceful afterlife. The darkness was an old friend, like a worn blanket from childhood that you would hide under because you believed the monsters wouldn’t get you then- embraced her as she was and sheltered her as she mourned her lost humanity and childhood until there were no more tears to cry. 

Nonetheless, it couldn’t shelter her from the dreams of death, the echo of Danny’s death scream ghostly wail ricocheting in her skull like the worst sort of pinball game she could ever have the misfortune of playing. 

It was no longer Danny’s death or theirs that haunted her with dogged determination, but Jason’s. 

(The same man she found herself missing more with each passing day that she didn’t wake in his arms.)

It was horrifically detailed, the nightmares, because Jazz’s imagination painted with vivid color even in sleep. The details Lady Gotham had shared with her were few and far between, considering she didn’t care for talking about her favorite bird’s murder. 

(Beaten, betrayed… waiting for his dad to reach him in time.)

(Only the darkness would ever know how much Jazz cried for a younger Jason, who only wanted his mother’s love, died for it.)

(It spoke to her own childhood, wanting her parents to love her and care for her.)

(What a pair they were.)

Jazz threw off her blankets and got dressed for the day, hair brushed back into a low ponytail and Bracelets hidden under loose sleeves and a glamor. The metal was cool against her warm skin, a comfortable weight on her forearms as she went about her morning in silence, forcing the nightmare back into a box for her never to think about. 

Danny emerged only a few minutes after Jazz began making breakfast for them, yawning and raking a scarred hand through his messy hair as he tried to wake up. Her little brother was completely healed from his traumatic experience physically, but she worried about him mentally. Though he was much happier compared to when she first dragged him bleeding and screaming to Gotham, which could also be due to the fact that he has a new Haunt and isn’t vilified by the city as Phantom. 

Even if it came at the cost of life, Danny loved being a vigilante.

The signs were there in the little things most of all.

 The pride in his voice when he introduced himself as Phantom, delivered puns and witty one-liners with his wicked sense of humor for all to see, thrived in the sense of duty he wrought in Protecting others, even complete strangers. Danny was a hero, but he didn’t need that distinction to want to help, he only wanted to not be hunted for his spooky nature. 

Jazz would shoulder that burden for him, take up another mantle if it meant giving Danny a chance to be happy with his existence. Ancients only knew how far she would go for him. 

One slash, two, three

Blood is on your hands already. 

Fourth, fifth slash

Ask the ghosts if honor matters, buried amongst the ash. 

So what if Jazz had a bond with the darkness? So what if she woke up with no air in her lungs, searching for a pulse? 

There was nothing else for her to fight for, no greater purpose she could find then to be at Danny’s side through the ups and downs. Jazz had already given up so much, both willingly and unknowingly, to take the crown, to be more than a presence on the sidelines- she was more than a Liminal, Jazz was the damn Regent. 

(She ignored the grating reminder of the title being temporary.)

It was only until Jazz watched Danny walk through the door of his school, that it dawned on her what she was feeling….

Jazz was becoming depressed. 

-——-———–

With the subtlety of Jack Fenton barreling through a wall, Jazz threw herself into work- both Vigilante and Regent- to ignore the realization and subsequent horror that she was falling into a deep depression.

And it was largely because of Danny. 

Ancients, Jazz wanted nothing more than to confront these feelings head on, much like she encouraged her little brother too, but she couldn’t even find where to begin. 

She supposed she could find someone to talk to about all this, in a professional manner, but her options were limited. 

Spectra was the only ghost with counseling experience, but Jazz would only be leaving a conversation with her worse than when she began. 

Frostbite would be of little help with something so human, considering he was an ancient ghost Yeti. 

Human. That was it. 

Jazz hadn’t considered a human psychiatrist, since most of her health needs thus far were physical and treated by the Yeti tribe, thanks to her ecto-contamination and proto-core. 

What if she found a human doctor to see? Jazz had no reason to discuss anything  ecto related, only human adjacent, so she could very well find one that suited her and her needs. 

Well, that might be a challenge in Gotham. 

The Watchtower was host to nearly every possible hero who were to attend Batman’s urgent briefing, many lingering around and questioning what the Bat could’ve had in store for so many of them to be present. 

Robin, Red Hood, and Red Robin were counted among the numbers of those present, though only Red Robin had the fully depth of what they were about to be privy to, having been one of three people to sort through the Ghost Files (as they were dubbed by the Batkids). 

Robin had demanded to be included, citing his prior experience with The Regent in Crime Alley as reason enough. 

(He would not admit that he had been petrified by the vigilante, the death aura freezing him down to his bones.)

Red Hood was there at the request of his younger brother (Tim), Oracle and Batman, though he had yet to understand why. 

“Red Robin, begin the presentation.” Batman ordered gruffly as he entered the large meeting hall, Superman and Wonder Woman at his heels, the other heroes trickling in soon after. 

Red Robin nodded, took a deep breath and started the presentation slideshow. 

Slide #1: Ghosts, Fenton Family, GIW, Anti-Ecto Acts, The Regent and the Phantom

Despite the absurdity of the first slide, no one felt like laughing. Especially when it is in a meeting with the Batman, the Dark Knight and two (?) of his children. Not to mention the existence of Deadman was well known to the Justice League. 

“Bloody Hell, Bats, took you long enough.” Constantine had no qualms about poking the man in question with a metaphorical stick, but he had fully expected this briefing to happen a week ago. 

“This briefing will be disclosing information granted to us by one of these Ghosts or Ecto-Entities as they are officially classified by the Ghost Investigation Ward or GIW. A serious breach of the Metahuman protection laws has been created and exploited by this government organization, which is responsible for drawing the Human world into the beginnings of an inter dimensional war with the Infinite Realms.” Batman spoke calmly, even if he was holding onto his demeanor by the skin of his teeth. 

(He was livid.)

(A dead child had to beg him not to send him to war.)

(A dead child was a Spirit of Protection.)

As expected, the heroes present were disgusted by the actions of the GIW, the diabolical Anti-Ecto Acts passed during Luther’s term. 

The worst reactions came during the Fenton Family portion. 

The Ghost Files had included so much info on them, Red Robin had to shorten the list of what he would include in the presentation. 

The first picture was of the members themselves, posing in front of a brick building with a neon sign of ‘Fentonworks’ glaring annoyingly from the background, casting an off shade of pale green over the subjects. 

“The Fenton Family, manufacturers of the weapons sold to the GIW for the express purpose of hunting and capturing ghosts.” Batman began, “The two adults are Madeline and Jack Fenton, ecto-biologists whose prejudiced views on Ecto-Entites seem to be the founding behind the Acts and the GIW.” 

The man in the photo was large, a sturdy frame encased in an orange hazmat suit and bearing a wide grin on his face, with an arm around his wife and children. Madeline Fenton was a slight woman, standing at a possible five foot eight and wearing a hazmat suit like her spouse. 

The children were the next to be spoken of, “The boy is Daniel Fenton, the youngest, and according to the information given, he was killed in a lab accident at fourteen years old.” 

The gasps of horror intermingled with the muttered curses before the Dark Knight silenced them, “Daniel’s older sister, Jasmine, was the primary caregiver for most of his life and after discovering her parents dissecting the town’s protector, a ghost by the name of Phantom, in the same basement lab Daniel died in, Jasmine allowed the Regent to claim their souls so the violence done to Phantom would be avenged.” 

It had been quite the shock for Red Robin and Oracle to read that, both at the evidence of cruelty and inhumane experimentation done to a sentient being (a child who died and protected the town) and the admittance that the Regent killed the humans to avenge Phantom.

It wasn’t until Hood grimly smiled and said, “Good for them.” that something clicked. 

Phantom was killed by the Fentons and avenged by the Regent of the Ghost King. 

(Jason had never been avenged, not like this dead kid.)

There was one file, a video, that Tim refused to share with anyone. 

The death of Daniel Fenton. 

…and the rebirth.

Contrary to popular belief, Danny wasn’t an idiot. He was born into a bloodline of brilliance, even if such wasn’t always used for the greater good. He had spent years fixing his parents failed inventions, doing the proper equations to figure out how something could work when in reality it had no business existing. 

(Designed to view a world unseen.)

He’d learned how to fly a jet and build one at fifteen out of sheer desperation, defeated the Ghost King in the same year…. And was almost killed fully by his parents. 

His vivisection scars had healed fully, his removed ribs having regrown, and he could transform without echoes of agony in his chest. 

(They had gotten far too close to his core.)

Point was, Danny knew there was something going on with his sister. She had been less talkative since their escape from Amity, but Jazz had been withdrawn since they took Jason to the Batcave. He had suspected that Jazz missed having someone to care for, considering that was the kind of person she’d been for as long as he could remember, but it didn’t seem quite right. There was something sadder in her eyes. 

Danny turned his focus back down to what he was doing, shoving the concern down to deal with later when he sees Jazz. Usually English was one of the classes he could relax in, considering he could now actually read the assigned books without worrying about ghost attacks eating into his sleep, but today Danny couldn’t focus on the teacher or the lesson. 

He’d had an idea for the ecto-comms, his own creation made from broken Fenton phones. His notebook, which was a mix of notes and half finished designs, was open to the original design of the comms. Danny had to account for Jazz’s helmet when he designed her set, but it was awkward at best to activate it when she needed to talk to him. 

Jazz needed armor to protect her vital organs even if her skin was incredibly durable. He’d seen some idiot unload a clip into Jazz’s back, not a single one had pierced her- that had been when she’d intercepted a smuggling ring from inside and had yet to summon her armor or sword. 

(The creepy head turn Jazz did to face the idiot was the stuff horror movies were made from.) 

(Danny was oddly proud.)

No, the armor was to protect against ghosts. Ecto-blasts would severely injure Jazz despite her liminalality, unlike Danny who could just go intangible or manipulate the ectoplasm in his body around the blast. 

“Did you hear about the Anti-Ecto Acts?” one of his classmates whispered from somewhere behind him, causing Danny to automatic tune his hearing into the conversation. 

“Yeah, that stuff is sick. Phantom is a pretty cool dude, even if he’s dead.” 

“He’s got puns for days, man.” 

“But still, ghosts?” 

“We got aliens, dude and you’re drawing the line at ghosts?” 

“Ugh, fine.” 

“Just read the whole article, man.” 

“It’s the daily planet.” 

“It’s Clark Kent and Lois Lane, dude, it’s worth the gag factor of metropolis.” 

Danny’s pencil snapped in uneven halves in his grip, confusing mix of emotions swirling in his chest. 

Anger-relief-cautious hope 

He’d given the Ghost Files to Batman as his last resort, believing in the hero and for his connection to Lady Gotham to sway him to give it a read through. Jazz had been adamant that if Phantom and the Ghost King was on that list, then she (as the Regent) would be too, though the two of them had argued against labeling Phantom as the Star King for the time being. Danny had grudgingly agreed to keep Phantom labeled as a Spirit of Protection, even if he went behind his sister’s back and gave Batman a list of his powers. 

(Danny still had nightmares of Dan.)

(He lost his parents, but he hadn’t lost his family.) (He had to remember that.) 

There were few things Jason would consider dear to him. 

His books, kept neat and orderly in his apartment. His vigilante alias, taken from his killer to be a force of change. His grave, as a reminder that he came back. He’d been surprised to see Joker removed from the rogue list, hopeful that it meant he was avenged the clown fucker was finally dead and gone. Dick had held him again when he finally broke down and mourned himself, relief in the fact his killer would never hurt another innocent. 

Never hurt his family again. 

Barbie had framed the autopsy report and given it to her dad, where it proudly rested on his desk as a reminder that the clown was knocked off by a blessed soul and his daughter would never be hurt by him again. 

The alley where his head remained mounted was a protected site in Crime Alley, enforced by both Red Hood and it’s people. A trophy for all of them to appreciate, because while they hadn’t been the ones to end him… they had survived to bare witness to the days free of Joker. 

Harley Quinn was free, the happiest woman in all of Gotham- no, the world! The demon who’d made her in his image so long ago was gone for good and nothing would bring him back. She was free of her ex, her origin story was finally finished. 

Jason counted the fact he was inadvertently avenged as the dearest part of what he was as equal parts man and shambling corpse. He was free of that burden. 

And he had the bone-deep instinct that he knew exactly who to show his appreciation to.

Part 10

[disturbedbeautywrites]

Can you give us peach cleaning Jake up after the fight?

The Mess I Made - Jake Seresin Imagine x bestie reader

Warning: Allusions to smut ahead! 18+ only please! Also, mentions of blood and physical violence

The bathroom of the Hard Deck was definitely not the most ideal or sterile place to be cleaning a wound, but at this point you were working with what you had. You told Jake to sit on the sink, knowing he would be at about your height if he did so. You grabbed a paper towel and ran it under cold water, working as quick and as fast as you could with a shot of whiskey slowly starting to cloud your mind.

You looked from the ever growing damp paper towel to the cut on Jake’s lip, taking a step towards him. “You know, i have a thing for nurses.” It was a lame attempt at a flirting joke by Jake and you playfully slapped his chest, pressing the damp paper towel to his lips. “Maybe this will shut you up.” You were teasing, a small smile on your lips as you held that there with one hand and looked down at his knuckles. They were bruised and bloody, definitely needing your attention as well. “You wish, darling.” The Texas twang always came out on that last word and you would be lying if you said it didn’t make your stomach twist into knots every single time.

You just shook your head and decided to keep your mind distracted, but you had noticed Jake watching you with a indescribable look in his eye. It was something new for you and you couldn’t place it. “Is there something on my face?” The question was innocent enough and he chuckled at it, shaking his head but his lips turned up into his signature smirk. “Nope.” He popped the p and you just nodded before starting to dab the excess blood off his lip again.

“I’m sorry he hurt you.” Your words were quiet and distracted as you busied yourself with cleaning up one of his knuckles now. He winced slightly before he let out a deep and breathy sigh, a small sign of pain. “Sweets, I think I hurt him worse.” His eyes searched your face before his face went to stone, a serious look on it. “It was either you or me, and in that instance I’m letting it be me all day long.” He put his finger under your chin to make your eyes meet his, the icy color of them boring into yours. “Understand?”

You nodded, breathless and not trusting your words. The atmosphere in the small bathroom was slowly getting more and more tense and you weren’t sure how you felt about it. The whiskey was starting to slowly make you feel more and more tipsy as the seconds tipped by and the same was happening for Jake.

You took a step to the side to get another paper towel when you heard Jake get up. You turned to look at him and your breath caught in your throat as you realized how close he was to you. “I want you to say that you understand I’m never going to let anyone hurt you again.” His words were sincere and genuine as he held your gaze again, less than a foot between you and him. “I understand..” Your eyes were locked on his before you found yourself looking down to his lips, feeling something start to churn deep inside of you.

Instinctively he started to move in closer, brushing some hair out of your face before cupping your cheeks in his hands. “Peach, tell me to stop…” He trailed off as he was leaning in, only mere inches between you now. You could smell the whiskey on his breath clear as day and it was mixing with the dizzying smell of his cologne. “I can’t.” And with that you closed the gap, your lips interlocking with his.

You were kissing your best friend! You were kissing Jake! Everything in you was screaming at the top of its lungs that this was a red alert situation. This shouldn’t be happening. This should not be happening. But, as the kiss continued and you felt Jake’s hands slide down to hold your waist, you felt all sense go out of your body.

He slid a finger under your shirt, his cold fingers brushing over the now exposed skin there. He pulled you closer, deciding to hoist you up onto the sink he was just sitting on. He moved to stand between your legs, his hands rubbing your hips as he deepened the kiss. This was so wrong. But, it felt so right at the same time. Your legs wrapped around his waist without thought, your hands tangling in his blonde hair.

The two of you were lost in each other, the kiss saying more than you two ever could out loud. Just as you two were getting way too caught up in each other you heard a knock on the door, an all too familiar voice outside. “Can you guys hurry the fuck up? Some of us have to piss.” You laughed as you heard Bradley’s voice slurring from the other side of the door. Jake flashed you a smile, both of your lips swollen and cheeks flushed. He helped you off the counter and helped you smooth out your clothes before the two of you walked out of the bathroom. “What the hell were you guys doing?” Bradley’s voice was accusing as he watched the two of you walk away, a laugh leaving Jake’s lips. “Don’t you wish you could know, Bradshaw?” The blonde smirked and winked at him before taking you back over to the other aviators.

[astoundingbeyondbelief]

Kaiju Week in Review (January 21-27, 2024)

Godzilla Minus One made awards show history in both Japan and the U.S. this week. Its Oscar nomination for best Visual Effects is the first of the series (Godzilla [1998], Godzilla [2014] and Godzilla vs. Kong were previously shortlisted) and the first for any Japanese film. Small wonder Takashi Yamazaki, Kiyoko Shibuya, and their team went berserk when the nomination was announced. The other nominees are The Creator, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3, Napoleon, and Mission: Impossible — Dead Reckoning Part One. According to IndieWire, The Creator has the edge, but Minus One could very well win. And while it naturally made less headlines in the Anglosphere, Minus One also picked up a whopping 12 Japan Academy Film Prize nominations, exceeding Shin Godzilla's 10.

Godzilla Minus One/Minus Color is now in North American theaters. I was intrigued enough to make it my fourth theatrical viewing of this movie, but in the end it did basically strike me as a gimmick. Godzilla Minus One was shot digitally with sets designed for color, so making it actually look like a film from the 40s was always going to be an uphill battle. Even with the regrade, there wasn’t a ton of contrast in most shots, and some of the scenes taking place at night were quite hard to see. Still, apart from the Odo Island massacre, I found the Godzilla scenes as gripping as ever.

Thanks to Minus Color, Minus One made $2.6 million this weekend, crawling back into the box office top 10. Its total in the U.S. and Canada now stands at $55 million, third among all foreign-language films released in the U.S.

Brush of the God, Keizo Murase's directorial debut after a lifetime in movies, is finally complete. It'll play at the Osaka Asian Film Festival in March (link contains more images), and hopefully travel overseas very soon. Murase will also receive an Association Special Award at the Japan Academy Film Prize.

Clover Press shipped out copies of Godzilla & Kong: The Cinematic Storyboard Art of Richard Bennett to Kickstarter backers, myself included. It's an excellent art book, and there are plenty of deleted and altered scenes mixed in with more familiar sequences. Believe it or not, Bennett drew the panel above for Kong: Skull Island—they considered having James Conrad (Tom Hiddleston) flash back to an encounter with King Ghidorah in Vietnam. Not sure how that would've worked, as Ghidorah is generally not one to lie low for a few decades, but it's the first I've ever heard of it being considered. I'm hoping to post some more scans soon. Here's the order link.

Minecraft social media accounts teased a crossover with the Monsterverse, in what's likely to be the most high-profile of the Godzilla x Kong video game collaborations. The Mobzilla mod was created over 10 years ago, so this is long overdue.

The big toy news this week was Titanic Creations revealing the digital sculpt for its Yongary figure. This guy's had even less figures than Gorgo - I can only think of one, and very few of them were made - so expect massive demand. New Godzilla toys were also on display at London Toy Fair, both at the Playmates booth and among the plushies made by an unknown company.

[netherese-blorb]

Blackstaff Ball

Passage inspired by this absolutely incredible caped court suit.

Excerpt is from a larger Gale/tav story I'm stuck on, but I thought this passage made for a cute little reader POV moment on its own.

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

The present moment finds you with minutes to go before your departure to Blackstaff Academy's annual ball, making final adjustments to your hair. You made a point to go with the customary styling of you own upbringing, rather than the slick elven braids you had been taught to associate with class and nobility. Loose curls were piled precariously onto the crown of your head and secured in place with dozens of pins, each capped with shimmering gems made from colored glass. As you move, your hair sparkles as each new pin catches the light.

Your fiddling comes to a sudden halt as Gale enters the view of your mirror. You’d never seen him in formal dress before, and to say it suited him would be a criminal understatement. The impeccably tailored three-piece court suit had every inch of his toned form covered in deep blue velvet and golden embroidery. A swirling thigh-length cape of matching fabric made it look like he brought the night sky wherever he stepped. He wore it all effortlessly with his ever-present, well-educated poise. You had never seen anyone look so beautiful. 

“Gale, it’s-  you look-” Your sentence, already ill-formed, is lost as soon as you turn to face him. Taking him in fully, it’s as though you were getting a glimpse of him at the height of his power; before the orb, before his fall from Mystra’s grace. This is Gale the storied prodigy, the towering Archmage. You resist a sudden urge to fall to your knees in reverence. 

Gale had never been unsatisfied with your level of appreciation for his appearance, yet now he sees reflected back on him the intensity he often feels when looking at you, and suddenly understands the startled blush you sometimes give him in response. It was piercing, that look, overwhelming, but it was also intoxicating. He wanted your eyes to leave him, and he wanted them to consume him.

“I could speak no more eloquently of you, my love.” He jests, a little breathlessly, failing to thin the palpable tension between you. The moment you take a first step toward him, the floodgates open. He rushes across the room to meet you and captures your lips in a heavy, desperate kiss. You return his moves with equal intensity, taking his face in both of your hands, as if to pull him impossibly closer. 

He pulls you in by the waist until you're flush against his chest. His fingers brush against the ribbons sinching your dress closed and he can think of nothing else but pulling them undone, breaking them if he has to. 

Before he can, you’re interrupted by an alarm spell alerting you that the scheduled cabbie has arrived to take you both across the city to Blackstaff. You pull away reluctantly and erupt into a fit of giggles. 

“The illustrious Professor Dekarios is covered in my lipstick.” You say, wiping his mouth with the pad of your thumb. It was ridiculous, this life you had found yourself in; swapping sloppy schoolgirl kisses with one of the most accomplished wizards in a generation, rushing to catch a carriage that will whisk you away to a magical ball. If only your teenage self had known the fairy tale life that was in store for you.  

Gale snatches your hand and presses a kiss to your palm. “The oft-sung hero, soon-to-be Mrs. Dekarios, is going to end up on that bed covered in nothing if we don’t leave right this minute.” 

As tempting a threat as it was, there would be time for that once you returned. Several times, if you had the energy for it. You grab your shawl, your gloves, his hand, and stroll dreamily out to the waiting carriage.

-

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to see more from me, you can find me as 'luckybottlecap' on ao3 <3

[thefandomdirtymind]

Yoo casual is so good please tell me you’ll do a part 3 🥺🥺

A/N IMPORTANT:  Hi there ! It's will be the last part for Casual so I hope you will like it ! Thank you to squirrelbait02 and imhenritz for the many ideas it had help me a lot ! Since it's the last part It's kinda long, I hope you will like it !

Casual Part 3 NSFW

Part 1 - Part 2 NSFW

OPLA - Sanji

Sanji / OPLA Masterlist and Coming Soon

* English is not my first language, I tried really hard to correct myself but, I hope you will excuse me if some mistakes are still there.

____

Your hand pressed against your mouth, counseling your cry as the tears were running down your cheeks. The luminosity of the small lightbulb flashing above your head, it seemed to you as if all the air of the tiny food pantry was instantly gone. 

Pushing your fingers further into Sanji's soft hair tugging gently on them, trying to not moan. You gave a glance at the perfect view you have of him, on his knees in front of you, one of your legs resting on his shoulder, as his face was buried against your warm core. His hungry mouth letting you no respite, others that muffle your scream and enjoy the ride. 

Panting heavily against the side of your tight, his chin wet with your arousal, as his fingers massaging that special spot inside of you. Your secret boyfriend gently sucked your clits between his lips, his tongue playing with the little ball of nerves until he felt your hips buckle and your orgasm struck you like a lightning. 

Fucking in the confined space wasn’t your idea, even if you should have been suspicious, the blond had lead you there under false pretense and you hadn’t been able to resonate him, or even yourself, that it was an bad idea. 

“ Fuck, Sanji please, please stop i’m too sensitive” You pleaded, his hot breath playing on your sweaty skin sending shivers trough your spine. 

“I only follow the needs of your pussy, look at it still so greedy for me mon amour” He chuckles leaving a hickey on your inner thighs. “ Would be a true shame to disappoint the body of * ma déesse” He whispered as he stood, pinning you to the shelves with his body,lifting your leg around his waist, his tips already brushing your folds. * my Goddess  

But the laundry room was your idea, and what an idea it had been. Not only for all the comfort of the fresh sheets and towels, but also the immense joy of making Sanji lose his English, making him whine in French as you found a new sensitive spot.

“Bordel, Merde, tu est si chaude, si douce. Continue n'arrête pas s’il te plait. Oui, comme ça, tu es magnifique. Arrête de rire de..bordel, mon changement de langue, ça resserre ta chatte et tu va me faire jouir trop tôt “ *

* “ Fuck, Shit you’re so warm so soft. Keep going, don't stop please, yes like that, you’re so beautiful. Stop laughing of, Fuck, my language switch, it squeeze your pussy and you will make me cum too soon “ 

Due to many years of hearing and talking with him, catching words here and there. You have developed a not so bad understanding of French, but still, for pure mischief purposes, you intentionally often lose words in translation.  

“ You want me to keep going and squeeze my pussy ?” You smirked, your hands steading yourself on his chest as your hips rolled faster, making his hands handle your ass more firmly, leaving fingers bruised as his eyes closed in ecstasy. 

Still,because of your brilliant idea. You had to try at all costs, for at least the last week, to not drop something on the floor due to the pain of your friction bruised knees. 

Being in love with Sanji was easy, like breathing or boiling water. Keeping your hand and mouth from each other was more difficult. Since your confession, in a moment of passion and his favorable reaction, turning your life in a more vivid shade of colors. A thought way less joyfull was still stopping you from enjoying the situation to its fullness. The revelation of your relationship to your father, dangling like the Damocles swords above your heads.  

Zeff wasn’t a bad man, even if his pirate reputation would push others to think otherwise. Yes, his boots were bloody as his reputation, and yes you will receive some kick if he found eggshell in your crème brulée. But your father was also the man who’s have save a young boy and lost his leg for him just because they share the same dream, a retired pirate who’s had open that restaurant in the goal of feed the sailor in need of food,even if it had grown to become a business a poor pirate without berries couldn’t afford, you knew your dad and lover would never let an human famish.He had also welcome you with kindness and a softness you wouldn’t deduce he possess when he had learn the dead of your mother. 

Sure, you had some resentment against him for a while, for impregnating your mother before coming back to his pirate life and never came back, even after she had written him a letter. But, your abandonment syndrome has now fully healed after years of being treated as not just his cherished daughter but also after finding him, late at night, a bottle of liquor in hand,his eyes full of tears, talking to your deceased mother, telling him how sorry he was and how wonderful you were.

And now his amazing daughter was preparing himself to strike him with the dagger of betrayal, because her and his little proteger, was in love and fucking in every hidden corner of his fish building. What could be worse ? 

Opening your eyes, the light of the rising sun filtered by your curtains, you could feel the sad and cold absence of Sanji by your side, as well as a strange sensation of heavy limbs and a slight nausea. A small discomfort who quickly became stronger as you tried to get out of your bed. It didn’t take you long, but not without some falls in the way, to reach the bathroom and empty your stomach. 

Downstairs, as Sanji was pushing the kitchen door, the feeling of your warmth still clinging to his chest and the faint smell of your lovely scent in his nose, the blond cook met the side gaze of his mentor, a strange smirk floating on his lips. 

“ You took some fresh air little eggplant ? “

“ I didn’t, but it seems it will rain. I can see gray clouds from the window, why old man ?” Sanji asked, taking a mixing bowl from one of the main kitchen islands.

“ Do you think you’re so smart that I can see the sign, little eggplant? “ The old man continu, cutting his portions of vegetables. 

Stopping his hand a few inches from the eggs,trying to think of the best strategy to adopt, the blond cook slowly takes the ingredient and joins the retired pirate on the counter.

“ What are you talking about ?” He innocently asked, trying to stay out of the trajectory of the long knife the father of his lover was holding. 

“ Did you think I didn’t notice that your room is empty most nights or I didn’t see you came back to it a wee hours only with your pants on ? I’m old Sanji, I'm not stupid.” Zeff said, putting aside the freshly cut julienne carrots, to take the mushrooms. 

“ Zeff... I…I can explain, I swear it wasn't intentional...we…it’s just happen” The younger cook confesses, stepping slowly away, vision of his future death by a butcher knives or deadly kick, way to close in his mind. 

“ Little eggplant, didn’t I teach nothing, that's how love works, it just happens ! So, hm, in which ship is she ? “ His mentor grumbled, misunderstanding the reaction of his sous-chef for an annoyance toward his out of character playful teasing. 

“ Ship…” Sanji processed, suddenly comprehending the misunderstanding. “ She hm…” 

But for once, sadly not for long, Sanji was happy to see Patty rushing in the kitchen, a concerned expression on his face. 

“ Boss Man, Y/N seems not right, we can hear her throwing up from the corridor upstairs.” The blue haired cook said

“ What ?! “ Both men asked, letting go immediately of their occupation. 

“ Sanji, send a waiter to the docked ships for an inboard doctor, Patty take in charge the brunch prep “ Zeff ordered, already in motion to go upstairs, his tone leaving no place to object. 

“ Yes “ Sanji replied, refraining his urge to be at your side, his mind flooded with concern, trying to see if he could have missed a clue of your illness this morning. But all he could remember was that you were peacefully asleep when he had left you,nothing apparently troubling your sleep.“ Beaulieu,Y/N is sick, go ask if one of the ships has a doctor and make it as quick as you can ! “ 

Nodding of the head, the trusted waiter takes his leave, almost running, the feeling that his slow walk could earn him some kicks not only by his boss but by the blond man too. 

----

Laying in your bed, cold sweat running down your spine,your mood darken by the strict restriction of your father to doing anything, you lift your gaze to the doctor.

The man, probably in his mid-forty you largely guess, was wearing square glasses and a brown suit who’s seem to have seen better days. If somebody had asked you, you would have assumed that he didn’t enroll voluntarily in the pirate life but had been snatched in it when an morally gray captain needed a doctor on board. 

“ Well Miss, I will only have some question before starting” 

“ Of course, but Doctor, isn't consultation supposed to be private ? ” You asked, shooting at Zeff, standing in the corner of the room, his arm crossed on his chest, a nervous look.

“ Well indeed it is usually the case…” The medical man confirmed, before shutting his mouth under the dark gaze of your father. 

“ I won’t let my sick daughter with a man I don’t know, doctor or not,” Zeff said. 

Knowing that you will never win this battle, you sigh and sign to the doctor to ask his question,trying to reply as best as you can. 

“ Now in a more personal topic I'm afraid but are you sexually active “ The doctor asked, glancing nervously at Zeff.

“ Of course not “ Your father starts to say, a chuckles on his lips, like if the question was about impossible things or myth.  

“ Yes…” You confessed, trying to avoid the shocked gaze of the old pirate as the man in the brown suit babbled about the possibility of pregnancy and tests.

You could swear that the next moment was the most embarrassing and worst moment of your life. Sit on your bed, vulnerable in your sickness and your pajamas, you had to endure Zeff interrogation. Trying to stay silent or opening your mouth to deny that your lover was a customer or that it was non consensual, preventing the chef from ruining his restaurant reputation. You stubbornly stayed mute as your father furiously exits your room forgetting all his big principles.   

----

“ WHICH OF YOU SAD WORM, WARM SHRIMP, FROZEN MEAT HAD TOUCH MY DAUGHTER ! “  Zeff shouted, passing the double door leading to the kitchen.

In an instant, the usually noisy kitchen, full of cooks and waiters preparing everything to start the day, felt silent, every eye fixed on their angry boss. 

Froze in place, mute like the others. Sanji was watching his mentor traveling the kitchen, his cold gaze scrutinizing each and every male member of his staff, finishing by him before taking a place in front of them. 

“ Nobody ? Then we will do that the hard way. Until I have a name your day will start with the rise of the sun. You had energy to have sex with my daughter, not anymore. Every morning we will do 25 to 30 laps around the restaurant, followed by push-ups and jumping Jack. If we still have time before the opening, lifting those potato sacks and barrels would be enough to make you want to confess. Then we will prepare and open that damn place ! Is that clear !?“

“ Boss man, it is not fair to punish the staff for the mistake of a stupid man “ Patty exclaimed, followed by the agreement of the other men. 

“ Then confess Patty or find me that failed soufflé of a man. Every complaint or protest will meet my kick or the cold water outside. Now get back to work ! “ 

Returning to their occupation, mumbling of discontent floating like swaps of bees in his guilty ears. Sanji makes his way to Zeff, his need of telling the truth burning his tongue. 

“ Zeff…” The blond advances, nervousness twisting his stomach. 

“ She will be okay, little eggplant.” The old man said, putting his rough hand on his shoulder“ the doctor was talking about doing some tests and coming back with them in a few days. I can’t say the same when I catch that slimy eel not good enough to make a pie“

“Test, what kind of test ?” Sanji asked, trying to stay in control of himself when stress was slowly eating him alive and desire to run as fast as he could upstairs made him feel as if he had stepped on a nest of ants.  

“ I’m not a doctor, little eggplant “ The old pirate replied, mistaking his little proteger concern for a kind of brotherly worries. “ But she’s a strong girl, it's not a few drops of blood or few tests who will wear her off. Now go back to your station, those orders will not prepare themselves and no creativity dishes or what you call them today, I already have enough problems like it is !” 

If you were strong enough to endure the necessary tests, Sanji couldn’t say the same about all the poor male staff members of the Baratie who had to suffer the rigorous military training of Zeff the next morning. Many, after a few laps around the platform, had fallen in the water or just collapsed after their second push up. It was true that growing under Zeff's umbrella, following from a young age his training to learn his kick technique, had given the blond a certain advantage. However, as he lifted his upper body for the fifteen time, sweat ran freely on his skin. The noise of another body falling behind him, making the wood vibrate under his hands, permit Sanji to briefly steal a glance to your windows, seeing your shadow play in the curtain. 

The previous day had been sort of challenging. Between trying to cook properly when all he was about to think was you but also secretly trying to sneak into your room, before having to quickly escape at the sight of Zeff guarding your door. His brain hadn’t stopped a minute to find a wait to finally see you. 

It takes two more days before an opportunity presents itself.

A heavy barrel on his shoulder, jogging between the kitchen and the outside. Sanji finally had his moment when Zeff, distracted by the spill of a sack of potatoes on the platform, finally stopped to look at them like a hawk to focus on the poor man who made the mistake.

Leaving the barrel among the others, Sanji sprints up the stairs, his already tired muscles burning. But, as he reached your door, entering as fast as he could before closing the door behind him, nothing could have stopped him. 

“ Sanji ! “ He heard you exclaim before feeling the mass of your body pushing him against the door and your lips covering his. 

Your time, stuck in your own room without being able to see him, hasn't either been easy for you. The nausea, more present than ever, didn't seem to stop soon and your constant fight with Zeff trying to at the same time protect and interrogate you usually leave you with a headache, making the situation all for the worst. 

“ I missed you so much” You whispered against his mouth, stealing kiss after kiss, only taking small breaks to take some air.

“ I missed you too,” Sanji said, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your forehead. “ Zeff had talked about some tests, are you okay ? “ 

Color slightly spreading on your cheeks, you slowly nod off the head against his chest. 

“ The doctor seems to think of a possible pregnancy “ You inform him, unsure of his reaction. 

You had taken some precaution of course, taking your pills religiously. But as the doctor informed you of the slim chance you still could have ended up pregnant, your mind had returned to the memory of your single mother, abandoned on his island. 

Yet, as you felt his arms tighten around your waist, you didn’t expect the pure expression of joy and adoration on Sanji's face.

“ Are you sure mon amour ? “ He softly asked, his thumbs making a slow circle on your lower back. 

“ It seems the most plausible thing for the doctor. But he wasn’t completely sure, it still could be some other things “ You replied, still unsure of how you felt about the situation. A baby was some really big responsibility and a full life changing experience you didn’t know if you were ready for.  

“ Imagine how adorable our baby would be,” Sanji dreamily said “ and the cooking talent he would inherit, I hope he will have your smile, I love your smile“ 

“ Sanji ,nothing is sure yet” You tried to resonate with him, still amused to see him already so invested in such an unsure situation. “ And we still hadn’t talked to my father, I would like to not mourn you before knowing the reason of my illness “ 

“Zeff will be such a grumpy grandpa, but I'm sure the baby will just have to look at him to melt his old heart” Your lover continu, lost in his fantasy. 

“ Sanji please” You laugh, your own heart melting to see him so happy. “ If my dad heard you before we talk to him I kill you myself “ 

“ We indeed need to find a way to tell him before he wears off the staff to death with his morning training. The waiter already had some difficulties carrying many plates at once or had to take off because of exhaustion. Yesterday one of the cooks had failed to lift a pot full of soup and had flooded the kitchen floor. But we have to prepare our words or the baby will probably not have sibling due to their father missing a precious part “

“ Losing that precious part isn’t indeed not negotiable” You joked your mouth finding once again his way to his. “ I love you, even if right now you reek of sweat” 

“ You never complained before” He chuckles against your lips.’ I love you too”  

“ Y/N I bring you your breakfast ! “ You heard the voice of Zeff tell from somewhere behind the door, making you both freeze in place. “ Come open the door please ! “ 

Acting quickly, trying to find a place to hide Sanji, you helped him to slide under the bed while you vaguely replied to Zeff. 

Once your breakfast tray is put on your bed, your father is clearly trying to make you feel better by cooking himself your favorite morning meal, and a small talk you fastly cut faking nausea. You slowly let go of the breath you didn’t notice you were keeping before noticing Sanji that he could get out. 

“ We really need to talk to him…” He said , getting up off the floor. “ I should leave before he notice I’m missing “ 

“ So it was you Little Eggplant” You both heard as the door slowly opened. “ Would you think I didn’t notice you never came back with the barrel ?“ 

“Zeff, i’m sorry, but we can explain” Sanji advances. 

“ Explain, explain ? How does that simply happen ? Love happens, little eggplants, but why does it have to be my daughter ?! Zeff asked, anger lighting his features as he stopped at only a few inches of the blond. “ Dad, we were about to talk to you I swear” You tried. 

“ Because Y/N is wonderful, kind, smart, beautiful and I love her, that’s why old man ! Sanji replied, anger coloring his tone. “ If you hadn’t send that man hunt disguise as an Marine training, we would probably tell you soon” 

Bursting in laughter, Zeff shakes his head. 

“ Why do you think I make all my men sweat like pigs, Sanji? I knew the smell would betray them one day or another and the only thing I would do then was follow them ! “ The old chef said, touching his nose “ But I should know it was you, I'm almost glad it’s you little eggplant…”

Taken aback, Sanji looked as his mentor then you, unsure if he had heard him right. 

“ What ? He asked. 

“ I’m almost glad it was you, you're a good man and you will be good for her. But don’t make my mistake. She will be the best thing in your life, even better than the All Blue” Zeff replied, any trace of anger gone. 

Your eyes fill with tears, wishing your mother would be able to hear him, you simply take Sanji's hand. 

“ Now I need you in the kitchen. Let her eat her breakfast in peace. The doctor is supposed to come back today for the result and I haven't decided yet if I still kick your ass for that” Zed simply said before exiting the room.   

---

You indeed heard about your test later in the day as the nervous doctor, his brown suit even more wrinkled than a few days earlier. Sit in your room with Sanji and Zeff, you carefully watch him pull out colorful vials, explaining to you their utility. 

“ Then, as you can see, the pregnancy vial hadn’t changed colors, so Miss Y/N isn’t pregnant. An overdose of stress or a radical change of habit could also be the reason for his nausea.” 

Nodding of the head, you thank the doctor, staying silent for a minute. 

“ Should I be sorry ?” You softly asked Sanji, knowing that the idea of your pregnancy had filled him with joy. 

“ Pourquoi mon amour ? “* He asked you, as Zeff coughed in the corner of the room. “ Why, My love? “ * 

“ You seem happy at the idea that maybe I was pregnant, but I'm not…” You replied, yourself  unsure of how you feel about the news.

Taking your hand in his, Sanji softly smiles, kissing the side of your head. 

“ It just means that when it will be time, we will have to try harder to bring that cute baby to life” He smiled ,chuckling with you as Zeff's cough became louder. 

“ I definitely should be back in the kitchen and forget I heard that” He said as he got up off his chair, letting you some privacy. “ Sanji, don’t make me kick your ass” 

-----

It takes some time for Zeff and the staff to be accommodated as your love. Of course, Sanji had received some cold shoulder about the Marine training. But, after a few weeks, the staff had started to smile while you shared even a crumble of affection or whistle when he caught you kissing.

Life in the restaurant ship wasn’t easy when he came to privacy, even if Sanji had moved his stuff in your room at the first chance he got. But, often, late at night or between two shifts, you still find a way to make beautiful memories in the most unusual of place. 

“ Love, where does that bruise on your shoulder ? “ Sanji asked one night, kissing your shoulder as you tried unsuccessfully to put on your pajamas,as your lover try for his part to  ruined your effort. 

“ I don’t know, maybe the dinner room alcove? You know when you had to bite my shoulder to stay quiet “ You joked. “ Or maybe the coat hanger yesterday ? I remember I had bumped against it when I came.”

Laughing at the memory, you shared a slow kiss, remembering that all this had started with a night of festivity and the idea of keeping it casual. As you lay in bed with Sanji, you knew that now that you had found that happiness, you knew you will followed him however he goes.

----

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[dindjarindiaries]

Dincember - December 10: Sweater

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompt: Sweater

main masterlist • dincember masterlist

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙

"I'm home!" It felt good to call out the words as you stepped through the sliding front door of the cabin. The warmth that embraced you was nothing compared to that within Din's gaze as he immediately stood from his place in the living area, setting aside the weapon he had been cleaning.

"Hey." Din revealed a small smile as he let you greet him on your own terms. You approached him and leaned in for a kiss, all while he took the heavy knapsack full of supplies from your arm. "Did you find everything okay?"

"I did." You smiled and set a hand on his shoulder. "Thanks for letting me go by myself this time."

There was a playful glint to Din's eye, evidence that his next words were only a joke. "Don't get used to it."

You laughed and continued on, hoping he wouldn't mind the smaller tied-up bundle in your other hand yet. Just as any good Mandalorian and bounty hunter would, however, Din didn't miss a single detail.

"What do you have there?"

You stopped and turned around. "Oh, this?" You held up the bundle. "It's just, y'know, something for Grogu."

Din sized it up without moving, his weight set on one hip as his gaze flickered up and down with ease. "Yeah. Looks like the perfect size." His tone was coated with sarcasm.

You sighed, the exhale of a person who had just been caught. "You make it so hard to surprise you." You walked forward and set the bundle on the counter.

Din walked up to meet you, his hands taking the bundle with delicacy. "It's for me?"

You nodded, beginning to smile again. "You might as well open it."

Din started to untie the bundle, but before he could finish, he took a hand and set it over yours on the countertop. His gaze found yours as his brow furrowed with meaning. "I'm sorry I ruined the surprise."

Your smile became more reassuring. "It's okay." You took his hand and pressed a kiss to it. "It's just your instincts, and I happen to adore them."

Din's face began to flush as he nodded, taking back his hand to finish untying the bundle. He unraveled the cloth and picked up what was within, revealing the large, wooly sweater you had gotten from him at the marketplace.

"I know it's not silver," you joked, watching as he openly admired the item in his hands, "but I also know you love this shade of red, so..." You shrugged. "I just thought it would be nice for you to have something nice and warm to wear around the house."

Din held the sweater against his chest as his gaze found yours again. You were surprised to see it shining with something other than joy, a certain glaze of tears of some sort as he nodded at you. "Thank you." His voice nearly gave out in both its emotion and its pure gratitude. He took a deep breath and admired the sweater again. "It... looks just like the color we wore on my homeworld."

You brought yourself close enough to him to kiss his cheek. "No need to thank me, but thank you for the thank you." You brushed your hand over the material. "As long as I get to wear it sometimes."

That was enough to get Din to laugh. "I was hoping you would say that." He pressed his forehead to yours. "You'd wear it better than I ever could."

You let out a doubtful huff, closing the gap once again in a kiss that put the new sweater right between the two of you.

[maple-the-awesome]

It's Over? ||

Pairing: (any) Peter Parker x Reader

Words: 3,728

Overview: (Loosely based on this) After overhearing your conversation on the phone, Peter begins to worry about the status of your relationship and a miscommunication over text only makes matters worse.

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Peter Parker's such a terrible boyfriend.

...Okay, so maybe you've never said that to his face, but he's convinced it's true and he's also certain you agree. He's been a massive idiot lately which is a realization that makes him sick with worry and rotten with guilt.

Peter feels no hesitation with his feelings towards you and has always put effort into proving it: he gets you hand picked flowers collected during his patrols, writes loving messages for you with webs outside your window, and even texts you pictures of sunsets from the best views in New York, wishing you could be there in person with him because he absolutely treasures you, counting himself lucky every single day solely because of the fact that he can call himself your boyfriend.

Unfortunately, he fears that the title might change here soon because no matter how boundless his love is for you, he's done a real shitty job of showing it - at least in the ways that really count the most.

Originally, Peter didn't notice the flaws to your relationship and even when he did, he foolishly brushed them off. Once your smile began to fade little by little each time he returned home wounded, he reminded you that you don't need to stay up waiting for him every night and can go to sleep earlier if you're just going to be tired and annoyed with him when he gets home. He didn't mean to word it so harshly. He was worn out himself and didn't take the time to consider that you wait all night because you're worried about him.

Your complaints about him returning from work without getting any groceries would simply be met with new promises to do so after patrol. If there was no food in the fridge for dinner, then he suggested ordering take out. As a man who could easily survive months on Top Ramen alone, he didn't think you'd mind Chinese food two days in a row.

Even when you'd beg him to stay home for a date night because you haven't had one in weeks, he'd push you away, insisting he needs to protect New York without once stopping to wonder how his priorities might translate in your mind: 'I need to protect a city of strangers as I do every single night, so no, I can't spare a few hours for my girlfriend'.

Throughout every sigh to part your lips, Peter turned a blind eye to it all. Sure, the two of you argue, but all couples do, right? He still loves you and you love him, it's just...a little rough dating a superhero is all, however you'll both get through it together, he was so sure - and that's the key word: Peter 'was' sure, but after your fight today and the self-reflection he's done since, he's not too confident anymore.

It seemed so minuscule this morning. He was eating a bowl of cereal when he heard you huff from the other room. Upon investigating, he found you holding a red and blue shirt in hand, frustration written all over your face. It was your favorite shirt and it definitely wasn't supposed to be that color. Of course, the reason for its unplanned dye job wasn't difficult to guess.

Peter apologized while explaining he was really tired the night before and must've thrown his suit into the wash without checking the other items first; an "honest mistake" he called it with a shrug. Once again, you huffed, throwing the shirt back into the hamper in clear defeat which only made him press further about your suddenly foul mood. From there, the situation only escalated into raised voices ending in you slamming the door directly in his face when he tried to follow you into the bedroom.

Looking back on it now, Peter realizes his apology came off as halfhearted as he merely continued to stuff another spoonful of cereal in his mouth in between sentences and he probably should've stayed at that locked door to give you a proper apology, yet regrettable that's not how it played out. Instead, he purposely sighed as loudly as he could, asking why you "act so bitchy anymore" before stomping off...Not the greatest way to resolve an argument.

Unfortunately, Peter can't say that was the first fight he's merely walked away from with you. You would think Spiderman would know better, but alas, he's an idiot. In his own immature mind, he didn't see anything wrong or unhealthy with this strategy of simply dropping 'unfavorable conversations', after all, it seemed he had a fifty-fifty chance of you either getting angrier or never bringing the topic up again, the latter of which has been occurring more frequently lately. It wasn't until this morning that he realized just because you don't bring it up again, doesn't mean it isn't still hurting you.

When Peter went back up to the bedroom door, prepared to tell you he'd be leaving for work soon, he heart shattered upon hearing your silent sobs from inside. You were crying because of him. Your tears have always been his weakness, but it was in that moment that he learned there's something else that can deal even more damage to his sorrow and that's the broken words you sniffled to presumably MJ on the phone:

"I-I just can't do this anymore! It doesn't matter what I do! I've tried to not be clingy. I've tried to give him space and let him do his thing, but he never comes back to me! I don't even remember the last time we've gone on a date. It's always New York this, Daily Bugle that. Hell, he volunteered to work a few extra hours the other day yet can't be bothered to stay home just to eat dinner at the table with me! It's like I'm last to everything else in his life even when I put him first in mine!"

The thought of your relationship ending turns Peter's nerves to mush. How could he be so stupid? So ignorant? Such an asshole when he has the perfect girlfriend who has kept putting up with his bullshit for all this time? You don't ask for much in return; you never have. You ask him to help with small chores in your shared apartment. You request that he texts you regularly throughout the night not because you need attention, but because you need to know he's safe. You want date nights every once in a blue moon because he's your boyfriend, goddammit! What's the point of saying you're dating if he feels more like a lazy roommate than an equal lover?

You're slipping right through his fingers and he has no one to blame except himself. He knows that now and he's been spending the entire day thinking about it along with some way to apologize properly.

Part of him wishes he would've just pulled himself together and done something right then, bursting into the room with the promise that he can change - that he will change. Hell, he'd burn his suit in front of you if it means you'll give him another chance - if you'll believe for a second that the relationship is worth saving...But alas, he couldn't bring himself to interrupted your call, feeling it would only betray your trust if you knew he had been listening to a private conversation.

Instead, Peter sat like a statue on the couch, waiting not so patiently for you to leave the room on your own accord. When you did, he leaped up only for you to walk directly past him while sternly reminding him you have work. Of course you had work and, no matter how far he followed you through the apartment, begging you to listen to him for even just a minute, you wouldn't so much as glance his way...The karma he deserves.

While you may not have given him any time to explain himself this morning, hope is not completely lost. Shortly after your departure, Peter came to the realization that his nerves will last all day if he doesn't do something about your earlier argument, thus he decided to text you:

Your final text hadn't come until ten minutes after his, but at least he has a chance to plead his case which he doesn't plan on letting go to waste. He's practiced his apology about a hundred times each hour, engraving the thought-out speech in the deepest corners of his mind despite none of it sounding quite right. Of course none of it sounds right! You sounded so convinced on your phone call - like your mind is already made up on ending the relationship. What if you can't be swayed? What if you don't love him anymore? It did take you ten minutes to text those words back. Maybe you weren't even wanting to say them to spare you both the extra pain at noon.

It may seem hopeless, as Peter worries, however he refuses to give up. Too tense at home, he took to swinging around New York while sometimes reciting his speech aloud. He's tried his best to predict any possible response you may have so that a counter argument can be prepared. He wants to show you that he means this - that he's confident in his ability to fix your crumbling relationship. He's even picked up a nice bouquet of flowers at the corner store, ignoring the weird looks the florists gave as Spiderman dropped from the sky just to nervously request the best flowers to avoid a break up.

Needless to say, Peter's heart nearly jumps out of his chest when his phone alarm finally rings at noon. By this time, he's already sitting on the rooftop of your workplace, waiting nervously for your call while reviewing everything he's prepared in the meantime.

Bad boyfriend or not, Peter still knows you. He knows you find the break room too crowded, so you prefer to grab your lunch and take it back to your desk to eat. That's when you'll likely call him. The plan is then for him to pour his heart out into his speech before hanging upside down outside your office window with the flowers. Sappy, yes, but it's the best a desperate wreck like Peter Parker can think of!

His focus is glued to his phone screen while waiting, only shattered by the sound of sirens nearby. Lifting his head, Peter's heart drops at the sight of several cop cars racing down the street to a location he's learned all too well throughout his time as Spiderman: the damn bank. Of course, someone has to rob the bank now! Crime has been quiet all day, but the one time Peter needs it to be so, it decides to be blaring loud instead!

He curses under his breath when standing only for his ringer to be the new sound in his ears. You're calling now! You're calling and there's a bank robbery a few blocks down! Why does the universe hate Peter like this?

"Hello -"

"- Hey, (Y/n)...Sweetheart - Listen, I'm, um," he bites his lip, watching a few more cop cars zoom by in the company of a firetruck," I am so sorry, but I'm gonna have to call you back, okay? There's a robbery at the bank and I -...I promise I'm going to call you back before your break is over. I promise."

You don't respond too quickly much to Peter's concern - as if you already know to start weighing the worth of his promises. When you finally sigh, you sound just as tired as this morning, "...Sure, alright. Just...be safe, Peter, okay?"

"I know, I will be! I promise I'm going to call you right back so just hold tight!" Swinging into the air, Peter holds the phone to his ear with his shoulder, soon removing it with his hand but pausing to say before hanging up: "Have a good lunch, I love you!"

"...I love you, too..." Another delayed response, one Peter barely hears before pressing the little red button on the bottom of his screen.

He's dealt with lots of bank robberies before. He can make this quick. Swing in, keep the sass to a minimum, web up the badies, save the hostages, and return your call with plenty of time remaining for your break. It'll definitely work out that way, no sweat!

It didn't work out that way...No, of course it didn't, this is the life of Peter Parker; a man the universe just seems to hate most of the time. Forty two minutes; that's how long it took to deal with the whole fiasco at the bank. The robbers were armed with homemade weapons each packing a punch which are already annoying to deal with on their own, but sided with the worry of hostages and his already stressful day, the fight wasn't as easy as Spiderman had planned.

Nevertheless, no matter what the universe decides to throw his way, he has gotten good at recovering. Yet again, the bad guys were defeated and left webbed up for the police, however Spiderman had no time to deliver a clever pun before his exit. Instead, he disappears the second the threat is gone, his phone already in hand as he prepares to face another:

"Shit, shit, shit!" Peter curses, pacing across the rooftop he lands on while frantically texting you back:

Swinging a bit further, Peter begins his way towards your work with his phone balanced against his ear. He mumbles desperate pleas under his breath as he listens to the seemingly endless ringing before, to his relief, your voice finally picks up on the other side:

"Yeah?"

"Oh thank god! I didn't mean it's over as in 'I'm over with you and our relationship', but over as in 'I got the robbers'. I'd never break up with you especially over text, I swear - Listen, I really need to talk to you, but in person. Are you still at work?"

"Whatever it is, can't you just tell me now? I have that meeting in like ten minutes."

"No, I need to tell you in person. I need - I have to make sure that we're okay...I want us to be okay..." He's nearly in tears which is obvious to you by the sound of his voice.

"What are you talking about?"

"I really don't want you to break up with me. I know I've been a terrible boyfriend lately and I know I've made you feel like shit so I probably deserve to be dumped, but I swear I never meant to and I want to fix everything - I will fix everything, I swear! You're the most important person in my life - okay, maybe second to May because she's my aunt, but compared to everyone else! I love you more than Spiderman or the Daily Bugle or - or even those super good sandwiches at the corner deli!"

"Peter -"

"- My point is I can do so much better! I'll start doing all the chores, I'll take more days off from the Daily Bugle and I'll even stop being Spiderman if it means you'll be happy with me, I promise! Just please give me one more chance -!"

"- Peter, hold on!" He instantly shuts his mouth under the strictness in your voice. You hesitate on the other end before a sigh can be heard, "...How quickly can you be here?"

"Give me two minutes tops!"

"...Alright. Meet me on the rooftop - and don't be late. My manager's already an asshole as it is, so I can't be late to this meeting."

The sound of Peter landing on the roof causes you to turn around, yet you have no time to say anything before he's running towards you with his mask already crinkled in his hand as well as a few measly roses with broken stems in the other, "(Y/n), I’m sorry. I promise I’m sorry.”

“Peter, your face…” Perhaps it’s just instincts and routine at this point, but the first thing you notice is the nasty bruise already forming under his eye, not that he’s the slightest bit concerned about that, in fact he doesn’t even acknowledge your comment.

“Please give me another chance. I’ll fix everything!” When Peter officially reaches your side, he moves to hug you - desperately wanting to do so, however he stops himself with his hands on your arms, having no more confidence to push his luck. You could shove him away at any moment, after all, “Like I said, I’ll do the chores, I’ll go on as many dates as you want, and I’ll stop being Spiderman even -”

“- You wouldn’t stop being Spiderman. You’d never stop being Spiderman,” contrary to his expectations, rather than being angry, you run a hand through his hair, your voice a soft whisper, “You love being Spiderman too much, Peter.”

He bites his lip and bows his head in shame. You’re right. He doesn’t want to stop being Spiderman, but…

“...But I love you more…”

“...Peter,” your heart swoons. Brushing his bangs away from his face, you tilt your head to get a good look at him, “I know you love me and I love you, too. That’s why I could never ask you to give up something as important to you as Spiderman.”

“I thought…” He trails off.

“You thought what?”

He glances at you quickly before directing his eyes away, “...I thought you were mad at me because of Spiderman? Because I spend too much time working - that’s why you want to break up with me, right?”

You blink in surprise, “Huh? Why would you think I want to break up with you?”

“I accidentally overheard you talking on the phone,” now it’s your turn to look away in shame, “You said you couldn’t do this anymore…That you were pretty much fed up with me which you have every right to be. I’ve been a terrible boyfriend lately -”

“- You’re not a terrible boyfriend -”

“- I am, though!” Peter cries, “It’s like you said! I leave you second to everything else - I don’t mean to, but I made you feel like you’re not as important to me when you really are. You’ve always been important to me, yet I’ve been ignoring your feelings and I pushed you to the ledge -”

“- Peter Parker,” you move your hands to his cheeks, moving him gently to look at you as you speak quietly yet sternly, “...You’re right. You haven’t been the most ‘attentive’ lately and yes, it really hurts to be tossed aside compared to everything else. I know deep down that you don’t mean it and I know you love me. I love you too - sooo much which is why I really don’t want to break up…It’s just…Something needs to change.

“That call you heard - I was only ranting if anything because honestly, I haven’t felt like I’ve had anyone to talk to lately,” you squeeze your eyes shut, blinking back the tears, “I’ve been so worn out with it all. Work’s been crazy lately with my manager constantly up my ass for reports and then when I go home wanting nothing more than to spend time with the one person who makes all that stress go away, you aren’t there. I’ve…I can’t keep that up.

“...What’s important right now is that we both realize that. I don’t want you to give up being Spiderman, but you could take a night off once in a while, right? There’s like a zillion superheroes in this city, after all. Make the Avengers handle it or - I don’t know, that devil dude. Take a break not just for my sake, but yours, too” you let your hands fall down to Peter’s, holding onto them with a sigh, “...You’re not the only one who needs to change, though. This is partly my fault, too -”

“- It isn’t your fault. Why would it be your fault?” Peter interrupts with concern, yet you shake your head.

“I should’ve communicated to you that I was upset. I should’ve made sure you actually understood how I was feeling instead of just assuming or expecting it. Clearly, you care about us as much as I do and you want to make fixes now that you’re aware of the problems. If I just would’ve said something sooner, it wouldn’t have had to get to this point. It isn’t fair for either of us to suffer without the other’s knowledge nor is it healthy. We shouldn’t have to get pushed to the ledge or worry about a break up before ever once sitting down to actually talk about our concerns like grown ups…That’s what we’re supposed to be now, right?”

“I think so, although it’s not that easy, is it?” Peter mumbles then throws his head back dramatically with a groan, “Ah, May and Ben made it look sooo easy!’

You chuckle, resting your forehead against him, “I’m sure they had moments like this…We just have to learn, is all.”

For what feels like the first time today, Peter smiles and breathes his relief, “How about this: I’ll promise to start spending more time with you and doing more chores around the apartment if you promise to start telling me when you’re upset. Even if it’s something that seems totally stupid, okay? I won’t walk away anymore. I’ll sit and listen and if I don’t, you have my permission to call May on me.”

“It’s a promise,” you press your smile against his for what you intend to be a quick peck, however his arms finally wrap around your waist, pulling you closer into a longer kiss he’s been dying for all day.

“I love you,” he whispers once pulling away.

“I love you, too,” and there’s no hesitation or delay to your response this time.

[somethinglikero]

Sweet Encounters - Gojo X Reader

Flowers in this bouquet: Satoru Gojo Peonies

Colors of flowers: White, Pink {fluff, strangers to lovers}

Florist note: Hello again! I really don't know what to tell... It has been a while, isn't it? Well, to begin with, I had an important exam, so I logged off from Tumblr, and guess what happened... I forgot my password. BUT now I am back again hehe. I hope you enjoy this long promised drabble! I wrote this drabble imagining the reader as a female, but I believe this could also be read as GN or male reader.

The bustling streets of Tokyo were a labyrinth of sweet temptations for Gojo Satoru. Renowned as a Jujutsu Sorcerer, his penchant for sweets was a well-known secret. He could sniff out the finest dessert shops from miles away and had explored every corner of Tokyo in search of the perfect confectionery.

One sunny afternoon, as he strolled down a familiar avenue, a new dessert shop caught his eye. Its quaint, pastel façade and the scent of freshly baked pastries wafting through the air were irresistible. Gojo's curiosity got the better of him, and he sauntered inside.

The bell above the door tinkled merrily as he entered, and his vibrant eyes instantly landed on the charming figure behind the counter—You. You greeted him with a friendly smile, ready to introduce him to the sweet delights of your shop.

"Welcome! What can I get you?" you asked with a polite tone, not realising who had just walked into your life.

Gojo flashed his signature grin, his lavender eyes twinkling with mischief. "Well, sweetheart, I've heard this place is a hidden gem. What would you recommend for someone with a serious sweet tooth?"

You chuckled at his straightforward approach. "We have a fantastic selection of desserts, but I'd recommend our signature Chocolate Dream Cake. It's a real crowd-pleaser."

"Chocolate Dream Cake, huh? Sounds irresistible. I'll take a slice, but I might need a second opinion. Would you care to join me?" Gojo asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

You couldn't help but laugh at his charm. "Sorry, but I'm on the clock, and I've got a shop to run."

Undeterred, Gojo ordered the Chocolate Dream Cake and a latte, taking a seat at a nearby table. As you served him, you couldn't help but admire his confidence and the aura of power that surrounded him. The two of you engaged in a light conversation, with Gojo trying his best to impress you with witty banter and playful compliments.

Despite his charisma, you maintained a friendly yet professional demeanour, gently brushing off his advances with a chuckle. It was clear you were immune to his usual tactics. This intrigued Gojo.

----✿︎----

Over the following days, Gojo became a regular customer, showing up at your dessert shop every afternoon. His visits were no longer about satisfying his sweet tooth; they were about engaging in conversations with you.

You found yourself looking forward to his visits. His stories about the world of Jujutsu Sorcerers, his humour, and even his sweet tooth antics had become an enjoyable part of your day. The more you got to know him, the more you realised there was more to Gojo Satoru than met the eye.

One evening, as the sun set and the shop began to close, Gojo asked you, "Do you believe in fate?"

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Fate, huh? What do you mean?"

"I mean, what are the odds that I would stumble upon this little shop and meet someone as captivating as you?" he said, his tone more sincere than flirtatious.

You paused for a moment, contemplating his words. "Well, I think everything happens for a reason. Maybe it was fate that brought you here."

You turned your head to him to find him already looking and smiling at you. You shot him a warm smile and continued your work behind the counter.

From that moment, you felt like your relationship deepened. Gojo's visits became more about sharing moments and stories with you, he no longer needed to flirt to hold your attention. You discovered a charming, kind-hearted side to him, hidden beneath his cocky exterior.

As weeks turned into months, Gojo's presence in your life became something you cherished and something you grew fond of. And while he still couldn't resist the sweetness of your desserts, he found even more sweetness in the daily conversations you shared.

What began as a flirtatious encounter in a dessert shop turned into a genuine connection—a bond that went beyond Gojo's sweet tooth and your delightful confections. Fate had indeed played its part, bringing together two souls who were destined to meet amidst the sweetness of Tokyo's finest desserts.

[shadale-s-safe-space]

I don't know much about you as a person, but from what I can gather you've had a long journey with art, but still have the motivation to continue even when its rough. I'm sure you didn't start out making masterpieces, so if its not too much trouble, do you have any advice for a 16 year old artist losing motivation? i feel like im stagnating right now and its awful

Idk man, all I can say is, draw watchu want without the care who's gonna see it or what they gonna say , commit to new ideas and care less about pleasing everyone, because I know that way too well, I started learning by drawing animals, flowers and nature, "you should draw something else", switches to furries " No you must do human portraits", draws humans *no one fuckin cares*, and I felt miserable drawing what I didn't want all the damn time just trying to please everyone and be liked, hell, I still do that sometimes cuz I'm a dumbass. When in reality, when you do your own thing is when you're the happiest, this internet bullshit? Yeah don't trust the likes and favs, people like what they find relatable, no one really knows how much time you've spent on your drawing or how much you love it, when a 5 min doodle you did could do more than a painting that took 2 whole days to complete just to be scrapped in a new speedy record, paint what you love for yourself and you only.

Don't be shy to learn new things, I have tons of stuff I don't post here cuz I know people wouldn't care about it, but here for this post, have this that I practiced when I felt too depressed to think of anything good and wanted to step back from the MD artstyle

You'll see, you'll thrive when you draw what you want, and get yourself a drawing buddy! That way you'll stop focusing on the internet and more on each other, and each other's improvement. Tbh I struggled with that one. Since everyone I had were not into art irl, I somehow managed to find someone after 10 years of drawing alone. I honestly wanted more people to join in and make an improvement circle, but unfortunately that never happened.

I found myself twice as productive now than ever, even though I'm not active here as much I am still drawing and making things, ofc giving you more comics! And other fun things in the future I hope.

If you're struggling to draw something just do it, man commit, i was uncomfortable drawing men and male characters for years, I've wasted so many years being "too uncomfortable" and draw a naked person like yeesh who fucking cares, it's for studying.

And ofc if you feel like you're not improving at all please, please experiment with your artstyle and try something new, please refresh your mind, I was stuck for years doing the same thing over and over, same colors, same 2px brush, drawing like a machine same shit over and over, I felt so stuck and lost, but also afraid to do something new, idk why, I guess I never felt good enough or deserving of it. I also didn't go to art school, I am NOT a professional, nor will i ever be in my opinion. Hell, me feeling like I'll never be good enough left me afraid to try and apply for art school, they were asking for sculptures, different mediums all that scary stuff and I was like, I don't.. know.. how to do those things... I can't build a portfolio in less than 3 months?!?! I don't even know how to use half of what they're asking for!!

In reality at the end of the day, art is what you make of it and no one can stop you, search for inspirations and don't be afraid to try, yes you'll fail fist 2 or 10 or hell even 100 times, but you'll come back with more knowledge than ever.

For ending I give you the most confusing drawing to ever exist [dw he's just sleeping on top of her and she's just ghasping for air but awe romance or sum lol] is it weird? Yeah but I had a fun time making it hahaha

Idk I'm bad at putting my thoughts together, but hopefully some of this helps.