#the were such intimate and tense arts too

[noctlas332]

the way my schools printers work is that if youre printing a document, and the printer runs out of paper, your unprinted pages will print before those of whoever comes to print next

i tried printing some things today but the printer ran out of paper

i came back half an hour later to a stack of printed images

someone had to wait for my 28 pages vocal synth yuri to print before they could do their work

[mooshywrites]

Echoes of Love and Loss ~ Pt 3

Fem!Reader x Halsin

Masterlist

Art Commissions

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A/N - Y’all this one is sad alright. But stick with it, there’s a happy ending coming. Pinkie swearsies

Word count - 3.4K

Warnings - Angst, Major spoilers, Pregnancy, violence from in game situations, “Death”, purposeful miscommunication

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Part 1

Part 2 ~ NSFW

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“I think you might be pregnant.”

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Your heart dropped in disbelief as you stared at Shadowheart. Pregnant? How could that even be possible? You’d only been intimate with Halsin once, and while you’d never count that as a mistake, something so earth shattering couldn’t be discussed so easily in a romance so new.

But as Shadowheart’s face remained deadly serious, her expression unreadable, you knew she was telling the truth.

You swallowed hard, the thoughts racing through your mind as you tried to process what she had said. This had to be a mistake. The road ahead of you was going to be hard enough. Fighting Orin and Gortash, the threat of the Elder Brain, all of that was dangerous enough even without a pregnancy to think of.

“What do I do?” You whispered, your voice faint and tainted with fear.

“To start, you should probably tell Halsin. Discuss the options with him.” Shadowheart offered.

“I can’t tell him.” You hissed, your eyes shooting up to look her in the eye.

“And why not?” She questioned, her eyebrows raised.

“You know how he is.” You responded, wrapping your arms around yourself tightly. “He’s protective enough as it is. I didn’t want to get too serious because I was worried he’d be too busy making sure I was safe to focus on The Absolute. Add a baby into all of that?”

As you hugged yourself for comfort, anxiety continued to rise in your throat. You felt so conflicted. In different circumstances, you would’ve tripped over yourself to start a family with Halsin. But in these times…

“No. I can’t tell him.” You finished decisively.

Shadowheart sighed and rested a hand against your arm. She rubbed soft, comforting circles with her thumb as the two of you sat in tense silence.

“I won’t tell anyone else then. And I’ll check on you every so often to help with the sickness.” Shadowheart muttered in begrudging agreement.

“Thank you.” You whispered, thankful to not be completely alone in this situation.

Your eyes flitted across camp to where Halsin sat on a log, laughing at whatever Gale was saying. Your heart clenched painfully. It felt like you were lying to him, just by keeping this a secret. But you knew you had no other choice. If you told him, he probably wouldn’t even let you out of camp, let alone let you fight your way through Baldur’s Gate.

As if drawn by your thoughts, Halsin’s gaze met your own. He gave you a gentle smile, oblivious to your raging inner conflict. You did your best to give a convincing smile back.

Halsin lumbered over, giving a grin to Shadowheart before sitting down before you.

“I believe I’ll leave you two love-birds.” Shadowheart quipped, standing up quickly to walk away.

You couldn’t blame her for leaving in a hurry. It’s probably difficult to keep a secret when the situation is staring at you right in the face.

As soon as she was out of sight, you turned to Halsin, still smiling.

“So, what did I miss in your girl’s tea party?” He asked, a playful grin on his face.

You forced yourself to laugh, “Oh, just Shadowheart trying to cure my cold. She offered to heal my stomach too, but she seems to have trouble with healing magical ailments.”

“Ah, well, sometimes a cold can be more stubborn than you think.” Halsin chuckled.

“I think I can handle it.” You replied, trying to sound convincing. But with every passing moment, the truth gnawed at you.

How you hoped time would pass quickly, that the road ahead would be short, and most of all… that the two of you along with the new little life you had created would be safe.

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It had been almost two months since Shadowheart had told you about the pregnancy.

Two very exhausting months.

You spent those months trying to keep up with your responsibilities as the assigned leader , while also hiding the truth about the baby growing inside you. You found yourself skipping meals, feeling nauseous most of the time, and constantly fatigued. Halsin and the others noticed these changes, but they mostly chalked it up to the stress of the journey.

Despite your attempts to hide it, the baby continued to grow, and your bump became ever so slightly more noticeable with each passing day. It more or less looked like you were especially bloated, but still, the change made you nervous. You found yourself more and more attracted loose fitting clothing, not only because they offered a better fit for your changing body but also because you didn't want anyone to suspect the real reason behind your new wardrobe.

As the days went on, you had less and less contact with Halsin, retreating to your tent or hiding behind the group when he was nearby. He expressed concern over your increasingly distant behavior, but you found it harder and harder to explain your emotions and the truth that kept you in such turmoil.

Luckily, the constant fight with the remaining members of the Dead Three kept you all busy. Or they did. Before you had the pleasure of crushing them.

At last, the day came when the group arrived at the outskirts of Baldur's Gate. You were relieved, knowing that the difficult journey was finally nearing its end. But you also knew that the challenges would only grow as you and the group entered the city.

You could feel the weight of your secret pressing down on you, the enormity of it, and your heart raced at the thought of what was to come. Your hand absentmindedly fell to your stomach, almost trying to comfort your growing unease. Something felt wrong today. Like a deep sense of dread etched in your bones. You tried to push those thoughts to the back of your mind, knowing that now, more than ever, you needed to focus on the task at hand.

As the group started to make their way into the city, and stopped at a building along it’s edge, you took a deep breath and reminded yourself that you were not alone. Every friend you had made along the journey was up in arms against the Elder Brain.

You couldn’t have imagined having more allies if you tried.

You gave a quick speech once everyone had gathered, the words passing your lips though your mind was a million miles away. The acrid smell of smoke floated through the air and you had to raise your voice over the sound of distant fighting.

You fought the bile that rose in your throat as your panic rose, trying hard to maintain composure.

The speech finally ended and everyone seemed as ready as they could be to walk into what very well could be their deaths.

You were about to make your way out of the small building before Halsin caught you.

“My heart.” He murmured, his voice almost pained. “I know not what has troubled you lately, or if you’ve decided that us together was a mistake. But I can’t let you go out there without telling you how much I care.”

“Halsin…” You started, casting your eyes to the ground.

The Druid reached out, gently tilting your gaze back to him by your chin. His eyes were full of emotion. Your heart cracked at how much hurt he had been holding back from how distant you had become. You wanted nothing more than to fall into his arms and sob, to tell him everything you had been holding back.

But you bit your tongue, willing your weary soul to be quiet.

“I love you.” Halsin whispered, his voice breaking slightly.

As you looked into his watery eyes, you knew even more how important it would be to keep the pregnancy from him. If he knew… it would shatter him.

You took a breath to steel yourself, giving him the most genuine smile you could manage.

“Don’t say that like you’re saying goodbye.” You choked out a laugh. “Tell me how much you love me when we’re on the other side of this mess.”

Halsin hesitated for a moment, sensing the conflict in your eyes but not understanding the reason behind it. A part of him knew that something was wrong, but he couldn't put his finger on it. As he looked into your eyes, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of longing and sadness.

“I promise, my heart.” he replied softly, squeezing your hand gently. You both stood there for a moment, the weight of what was to come hanging heavily between you.

As the group began to make their way towards the source of the fighting, you were suddenly unable to focus. The dread and fear that had been building within you up until this point now seemed to morph into a molten lava of anxiety and pure terror. Your heart raced as the smoke-filled air made it difficult to breathe.

You stumbled slightly, your eyes darting around, searching for support. Halsin was there, his hand reaching out to steady you, a look of concern on his face. You gripped his hand tightly, needing the comfort and strength you knew you could rely on from him. You knew that you had made the right decision in keeping the truth from him, but it was becoming increasingly harder to maintain the facade of bravery.

He helped you to your feet, and together you made your way into the fray. You were determined to face whatever lay ahead and protect your unborn child, even if it meant doing so on your own.

As spells whizzed past and explosions ricocheted through the air, you found yourself relying on your party more than ever. Despite the smoke and chaos around you, there was something profoundly comforting about the fact that you were not alone.

You fought alongside your friends, doing everything in your power to ensure that each and every one of them made it out of Baldur's Gate alive.

You tried your best to delegate your allies where you needed them, fighting tooth and nail to the top of the tower and the Elder Brain. You weren’t even completely sure how you were going to defeat it, but the battle had you running on full instinct.

By the time you had reached the top of the tower, your muscles burned, your eyes stung from the fumes in the air, and your breathing was labored. Without another thought, you and your companions ascended the Elder Brain spinal chord, floating atop dizzying heights. You let your training take over, your voice yelling out hoarse commands to your allies.

Everything was happening so quickly and yet so slowly all at once. The dread contined to rise in your chest, becoming ever more present and painful by the moment. You found yourself searching for Halsin, searching for the comfort of knowing he was there beside you. He was further ahead, trying to make his way to the portal that had opened up once Gale had touched the Brain’s crown.

You began to fight your way towards him, a part of you hoping the unease would die down if you could just have him in close range. The clashing of steel and the yells of your allies filled the air around you, making your head spin as you moved.

It didn’t take long for you to reach Halsin, the Druid spinning around to see you approach.

Your heart beat faster as he locked eyes with you, the panic not dying in any way. In that moment, he looked scared but resolute, his determination to defend you shining through. You wanted nothing more than to tell him everything right then and there. Tell him how much he meant to you and how much you wanted to start a life with him and the piece of him growing in you, but the enormity of the situation and the fear that gripped you wouldn't let you utter a word.

Nearby, the Elder Brain let out a roar, its own allies lashing violently out at you and your friends. You could hear the cries of pain as your allies were struck , and you knew you had to act fast. Halsin's eyes flicked between you and the portal, his expression hardening.

“Stay close.” He growled, grabbing your hand and pulling you to him. You could feel his grip tighten, his strength a comforting presence amidst the chaos.

In that moment, a flick of movement caught your eye. You looked over Halsin’s shoulder to see the tell tale glow of a mind flayed readying an attack.

"Look out!" You cried and shoved Halsin out of the way just as the spell struck. The force knocked him backwards, sending him stumbling over the edge of the Brain.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you watched him stumble, the smoke obscuring your vision as you blindly reached out to him. You felt his hand catch your own, the weight of the Druid yanking you further to the edge. You coughed harshly, waiting for the smoke to clear to see Halsin’s face. But as the fog cleared, you saw Halsin hanging over the edge, the sweat from your hand making his start to slip.

You inched further towards the edge, trying to hold onto his wrist with your other hand. As soon as you reached out your free hand, your balance teetered and you realized the action would tumble the both of you to the sea below. At this height, you didn’t know if you would survive the fall. Even if it was into water.

Your eyes filled with tears as you desperately clung on, your gaze meeting Halsin’s.

Instead of panic, he had a serene smile, his mouth moving with words you couldn’t hear over the chaos around you. His smile was comforting, it almost pulled you from the feeling of his grip loosening from your hand.

With a final word, Halsin let go, plummeting down into the ocean below.

A deafening silence filled your ears as you watched him fall, too stunned to even process what had just happened. Numbly, you wondered why your throat suddenly ached so much, a moment passing before finally realized that you were screaming. That you had been screaming for more than that split second.

Harsh sobs wracked your body as you clutched your stomach tightly. The sounds and smells of the world drowned out, replaced only by the desperate pleas of your own cries.

Distantly, you felt your body ripped from the edge of the Brain, arms wrapping around you as they dragged you further away. You clawed at them, thrashing against the idea from being taken further away from your Druid.

Time seemed to spin around you, vaguely, you were aware of the fighting growing distant, the battle moving into the portal. Your cries had turned into quiet whimpers, your fighting had all but weakened completely in what you now knew were Karlach’s arms.

She held you tightly, running a hand over your hair.

“Shht sht, now love. It’s almost over. They’ve almost beaten it.” She cooed.

You couldn’t care less in that moment. You knew you should be afraid, be in that portal fighting along with your allies, but all you could think about is the moment Halsin had dropped. the feeling of his hand leaving your own.

You sobbed into Karlach’s arms, hoping desperately that you would just wake up to this being some sort of sick demented dream.

It was as if the world around you had stopped in that moment. The fighting and the chaos, the smoke and the roars—all of it was muted in your ears, replaced by the sound of your own sobs echoing in your mind. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, and you clung to Karlach, needing her warmth and her embrace to help ground you to reality.

As if on cue, the roar of the Elder Brain subsided, replaced by triumphant cheers from your allies. The sound of victory filled the air, and you knew that your friends had succeeded in their quest. But as soon as they had, you felt as if your stomach was floating through your throat.

You looked up, your cries stifled for a second. The sky spun above you, the buildings in the distance seeming to get… taller?

You furrowed your eyebrows, not hearing Karlach’s tense voice in your ear.

Suddenly, you realized with a jolt. The building’s weren’t getting taller.

You were falling.

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When the darkness finally cleared from your vision and your mind returned to full consciousness, you sat up with a cough. For a moment, you couldn’t remember where you were. you couldn’t remember what you were doing that would leave you sprawled out next to an ocean pier.

Your muscles felt tight and exhausted, your bones aching with every movement.

Reality came back to you in flashes. The Elder Brain, the fight, the mind flayers. Halsin.

Halsin.

You felt the sensation of your eyes welling up with tears, but no droplets fell. Your body was too tired to even weep, the sadness settling within you like a poison.

You tentatively placed your hand on your stomach, a harsher grief filling you.

You had never gotten to tell him about the baby. He would never know that a piece of him was growing inside of you.

Footsteps approached you and you looked up to see Shadowheart kneeling in front of you.

“We did it.” She smiled softly, her words gentle and cautious. “Are you hurt? It was a rough fall, but I think the Brain softened the landing”

“No.” You choked out, averting your gaze.

“He could’ve survived the fall too.” Shadowheart whispered, her hand resting on your cheek.

“Could he have?” You snapped, pushing her hand away. Her pity felt like knives. Sharp reminders of the situation you found yourself in.

She stayed silent for a moment before her hand rested upon yours, right above your belly.

“What will you do?” She asked.

“Leave here.” You answered, voice still thick with unshed tears. “Leave here tonight.”

“What about the others?” Shadowheart started before being cut off by your ragged tone.

“Tell them I died in the crash.”

“W-What?” Shadowheart stuttered, yanking her hand away.

“Tell them I died in the crash.” You repeated simply. “I want to do this alone.”

You met Shadowheart’s gaze again, trying to show your determination in the idea. You couldn’t look the others in the eyes. Couldn’t take their pitying stares and sympathy. Couldn’t take their reactions to the idea that you would be a widowed mother.

“Swear it.” You demanded.

Shadowheart’s eyes were filled with compassion, her features softening at your expression. She gave a slight nod, standing up and throwing you one last look.

“You’ll be alright on your own? What about when the baby comes?” She prodded.

“You can find me in the woods near where we met. If you’re still worried.” You quipped, standing up as well. You winced at the movement, sharp pains shooting through your legs.

“Then I suppose this is goodbye. At least for now.” Shadowheart whispered.

You gave her a curt nod, too emotionally exhausted for any more emotional goodbyes.

You put one foot in front of the other, moving like a zombie with no place to go. If it weren’t for the baby in your womb, the last piece of Halsin you had, you’d have no will to live whatsoever. But that little speck of light held you together, moving you. One foot in front of the other.

Over the next weeks, you trudged your way to Halsin’s grove. You knew if he had known about the baby, he’d want it raised there. A part of you longed to feel closer to him and you couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. The nights were long and lonely, the days of travel hard. Even if you felt completely numbed, you knew what you were living for, so you kept going.

All the while, having no idea what was happening on the sands of Baldur’s Gate.

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Halsin winced as he was carried closer to the shore’s edge. He was too groggy, too hurt to even pay attention to what was dragging him closer to the beach. He knew that he shouldv’e been long gone. If the impact hadn’t killed him, the deep murky waters absolutely should’ve.

However, it seemed Silvanus had other plans.

Whatever was tugging Halsin finally released him into shallow waters, shallow enough for the Druid to hold himself up. With a groan, he tried to crawl further onto the shore, every part of his body screaming out in pain. He tried his best to summon what was left of his magic, a faint green glow sputtering from his hands.

With the healing spell, he felt a bit better. Enough to sit up and gather his bearings. As he looked around at the empty beach, he realized the fighting had long since been over. He absentmindedly wondered how long he had been unconscious in the water for. Or how long the sea creatures had been dragging him back to land.

The thought quickly left his mind as Halsin stood up, determination flooding his senses. As he walked further into the city of Baldur’s Gate, he had only one thought.

I have to find her.

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Part 4

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[hon3yteddy]

꒰ nct dream + intimate moments i want to experience 🍞 ꒱

synopsis: tbh idk but there thing i'd generally kill to experience (this is not a joke), and add some arson too if i get to do them with dream genre(s): established relationship, romance, tooth rotting fluff warning(s): mix use of tenses, severe symptoms of delusions and signs of parasocial relationship, not reread at all !!! author's note: hanging out with newjeans at the psych ward

#𝟎𝟐𝟎𝟖 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐋𝐄𝐄 . . .

― kind of cliché a cheesy... but slow dancing! mark's one of us - a hopeless romantic so he'd definitely be a sucker for a slow dance under the dim lights of your shared apartment. he'd perfectly time his movements after instantly recognising your favourite slow song (i recommend any song by laufey) drift from the kitchen as you prepare your dinner for the evening. he's heard the song too many times to count but mark never minded. he loved that about you - the little things, the big things, and everything in between.

just before the chorus, he'd slip behind you, guiding your hands with his own to carefully drop whatever you were holding, and clumsily twirl you round to face him. i can feel it in my bones that the man would do those knew weakening, borderline giggle, chuckle of his and gently pull your hand for a light kiss against the skin of your knuckles. you would find yourself resting one hand on his shoulder and the other being embraced tightly by his. mark always loves how close you feel when you're like this.

he would give you that look, the look you've seen a hundred times. it's the same one he gave you before he kissed you for the first time, the same one he wore when he finally got the guts to ask you on a date, that look so beautiful and real that your too much in a daze to notice him slip an arm around your waist. together you slowly sway to the beat of the song, forgetting the past and ignoring the future.

he holds you close, maybe too close even. yet none of that mattered. all that did was the way he was whisking you across the room, embracing you tight. feathered kisses, words of worship, lovesick eyes - truly a night to remember.

♡: mark, the foods going to burn... mk: guess so. but i'll eat anything made by you, burnt or not. ♡: the food is definitely burning right now!

#𝟐𝟑𝟎𝟑 𝐇𝐔𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐍 . . .

― renjun is a true artist and what is one of the most popular forms of art? paintings. he adores painting you, a truly enjoyable pastime. countless of times would you catch him sketching you, entrapping every detail of your soul onto a canvas or simply just the ripped page of a battered notebook. you have always been curious about his hobby so every now and then you'd have the honour of spending the hour painting with renjun.

there's something so dear about painting with someone you love. maybe it's the serenity, or the way the soul becomes so vulnerable yet so free on the canvas. whatever it was, things always felt so different when it would be the two of you.

evenings were always the time for such dates and soon enough the both of you would have long ago abandoned the canvases. it all had started when you had gotten frustrated with your piece of the day, for it could never compare to renjun's. so frustration took over, and you had painted a sad face on side of his face so very careful to not poke him in the eye. your shaky attempt at frown reminded you of the earlier days where it was socially acceptable to paint on one’s face and so you didn’t stop.

you enjoyed it and he could tell as he too abandoned his own piece to paint on you. the way he carefully held your giggling bod still and swirled his brush against your exposed skin from the blush of your cheeks, to the dent of your collarbones. you always found renjun prettier when he was focused and now he was focused on every part of you, adorning you with works of his own. yet none of his paintings could ever compete with the beauty of you. 

♡: you always make me look so beautiful, renjun. rj: you just simply are, that's all.

#𝟐𝟑𝟎𝟒 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐉𝐄𝐍𝐎 . . .

― jeno is a man sent from the heavens, carved by zeus himself and blesses the undeserving earth with his presence. basically, he's a sweet man with big, beefy arms you kinda just want to chomp and snuggle against. (the indescribable things i'd do to be embraced by the lee jeno can not be said aloud.)

cuddling is a simplistic show of affection and jeno must be the best person to hug in the whole world. a true safe place in this cruel world where you can finally let yourself be vulnerable and receive the love you oh so needed.

jeno loves hugging you. if it's after work, after a hard day, on the sofa, out of the blue, the man would be at your beck and cal. sometimes you didn't need to ask. he'd would be right there each and every time and he would love every hug he got to share with you. the thought of simply hugging you is everything to this lovesick puppy.

the hugs he loves the most are the ones you just needed the most. the ones where there was no need for an exchange of words or questioning eyes, just open arms. there was no other soul on this very earth who could make you feel so loved yet so weak in his arms that you could swear you could break, and sometimes you did. but he was there, and that's all you needed.

there's something so intense between each hug - tight embraces, soft hums, tender kisses, and the alignment of both your hearts. with each hug, jeno told you he loved you without the need for a single word.

jn: … (i love you) ♡: … (i love you too)

#𝟎𝟔𝟎𝟔 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍 . . .

― now it's no surprise to us when i say haechan adores physical touch. he honestly invented the love language itself. so of course, the dude is very much in love with you and the act of kissing you. every chance he got, he kissed you every time. but if there was one thing haechan loves more than kissing you, it's you kissing him.

imagine just kissing every inch of this man who deserves all the love in the world! he loves it when you kiss his moles with whispered words of praise in between. he never lets you miss one and always points out one just to get another kiss.

he's a giggling mess and you are too. hiding underneath the bed covers, tracing your hands against his bare skin, enjoying the way he writhes in anticipation for your next kiss. it's a game you both enjoy too much.

don't worry, you always get your fair share of kisses. he loves kissing the details of your skin and he loves even more the reaction he earns with each one (cocky dude). there isn't a single part of you he dislikes. oh, and if you too are blessed with moles of your own, he'll find each and every one to give a tickling kiss. sometimes he'll call them stars, sometimes its the cute dots of ladybugs - every single blemish, scar and mole would be loved, for haechan is just utterly in love with your very being down to the last detail.

hc: you know moles are where your lover kissed you in your past life? ♡: really? you must have given me these then. hc: and in your next life, you’ll have so many more for me to kiss…

#𝟏𝟑𝟎𝟖 𝐍𝐀 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍 . . .

― bubble baths. i can't explain it easily, but there's something so romantic about bubble baths. jaemin isn't necessarily joining you, but if wants to, he can hop in my imagine bath tub. he's actually the one preparing them for you. he'll always want his lover to feel a tease, he could never let you drown yourself in stress.

every now and then he would prepare the perfect bubble bath, filling the tub with hot water, scented ointments, expensive soap and even a dash of petals. you can tell he enjoys doing it too as he'll usually greeted by the man himself at the door, wearing the proudest smile. he doesn't hesitate in sweeping you off your feet, always nagging for you to relax while he takes care of everything else.

he always prepares a lot, paying attention to every detail he knows you'll love. your favourite song plays, a calming scent drift from the candles he's lit, there'll always be a glass of your favourite drink by your side and your favourite pjs hang against the door for you to slip in after.

as you lay in the bath, wading your hands against the water that’s just right, you sometimes feel shy under jaemin’s attentive and kind gaze. You may even complain about it all being too much but he’s quick to hush you with a kiss. jaemin just wants you to enjoy the serenity every now and then, he can’t handle seeing the one he loves struggling. he enjoys spoiling you and he loves seeing your tense body finally give up and melt. this week he’ll read you a book as he sits beside the bathtub, not caring if you splash a little water onto him. the next he’ll let you enjoy a movie, and the one after, he’ll bring you a meal for you to enjoy whether that be a fast food burger or home cooked pasta. chivalry could never be dead with jaemin around.

jm: it's time you to take a break! ♡: you already did this for me like last week! jm: it's not illegal for you to take regular breaks, okay?

#𝟐𝟐𝟏𝟏 𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐄 . . .

― you know that genre of romance scenes where the main couple help the other put on a necklace, fix a tie, button up their shirt, brush their hair etc, that - all of that. the simplicity of getting ready with a lover is so dreamy and chenle is indeed the man of everyone's dream.

the intensity shared between the two of you is unmatched. the bliss silence, hesitant touches, enchanted eye contact... gosh i'm blushing. when he stands behind you, letting his fingers graze the back of your neck to clasp the new necklace he's bought you. a compliment leaves his lips to touch upon the shell of your ear. he never dares to hide from your watchful eyes in the reflection and neither do you.

chenle lets his fingers glide down you bare back to zip the material of your outfit together. he holds you still while his hand painstakingly slowly moves up your spine for him to stop with a soft “all done”, enamoured by you and only you. and when he places you in front of the vanity mirror, threading his fingers through your hair, taking his time in watching, no, worshipping your very being in a blissful silence

the tension would almost be too much to bear. the way he gazes down at you while your busy fixing the tie he has clearly messed up on purpose. he always catches himself enjoying it all too much. something about the close proximity, focused eyes and building tension that's got his knees on the verge of buckling. just every moment chenlesees you, he swears he's fallen in love with you all over again.

cl: so b- ♡: you're going to call me beautiful again, aren't you?

#𝟎𝟓𝟎𝟐 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆 . . .

― now me and mr park jisung don't have a lot in common, but we do share the epitome of being awkward (he just pulls it off better than me. so it's fair to say that hand holding would get jisung weak in the knees. he's just a tall grown man with the soul of a little child and who's hopelessly in love with you.

and i must say, jisung has got the prettiest hands i've ever seen, no wonder you can't hold yourself back from slipping your hands into his. it makes him jump every time but he'd hold hands with you forever if he could.

it begins with the two of you walking side by side and a noticeable brush of hands. then a classic pinkie lock comes into play and jisung is in a mess already. and finally you'll intertwine your fingers with his once again. it's shock to his poor heart every time it occurs. he'd never let his eyes meet your face, he's far to weak to look at your beautiful face. he would simply falter and break under your loving gaze.

hand holding is a timeless classic move that is every loner's dream. does jisung wish he could experience the sensation of holding hands with you for the first time? very much so!

♡: you're adorable, jisung. js: … (internal monologue about how much he's in love with you)

january 2023 © hon3yteddy

[cemeteryspider]

Hi! Ok I’m here with my request I was wondering if I can request Rex dating a fem!reader who’s like raven from dc? Like powers and all that and Rex is just so in love with her 😔(May it please be like dating hc’s? Please and thank you🫶🫶🫶)

Rex-Splode Dating Headcanons

Rex-Splode! Rex Sloan x Raven! Reader

Trigger Warnings: Nightmares

Word Count: 925

You met Rex during Guardians of the Globe tryouts. You had also seen him get his ass beat by Monster Girl. Luckily, after this incident, he was less of a douche overall.

However, things changed once the Guardians started to become a team. He would try his best to be around you whenever he could. You would be running on the treadmill, and then all of a sudden he was running next to you. You could be making a sandwich, and he would be making his right next to you. Or you would sit and read your book, and he would scroll on his phone near you, occasionally glancing up at you when he thought you didn't notice. You did.

Then one day when you were pummeling a punching bag, he asked if you would like to get coffee sometime. You knew he had feelings for you, and you felt in your bones you should say yes.

A date to an art gallery and one dinner later, you and Rex made it official and told the team, who seemed shocked. Either you were exceptionally good at hiding your relationship, or they just couldn't believe you would date Rex.

~~~

You love your personal space, Rex also loves your personal space. The two of you could be walking down the street, it would have to be hand-in-hand, or maybe his hand would be in your back pocket. This annoyed you to no end at first but quickly you understood the constant wanting to be close to you was because he wanted to protect you. You would never admit it, but you loved him.

His favorite time to be in your personal space is during a fight. He would bottle the feeling of you guys standing back to back using your powers to protect each other. When you crushed invading aliens who wanted to kill him, he never felt safer. You made him feel safe.

Simply, he loves to make you laugh and smile. Even though you keep a straight face and hard demeanor around other people, you are a totally different person than when you were with Rex. Somehow his silly sarcastic personality leaked through into yours, and he could make you giggle without even trying.

He loves to see you train with the other Guardians, especially Invincible. Being from a demonic bloodline, you could go toe-to-toe with the Viltrumite, without too much damage, and more often than not you would best the newer hero. After all, you could practically tear Mark apart with the darkness you controlled if you wanted to.

Of course, he hated when he had to fight you. Not because he was scared he would hurt you, no, he was scared you would hurt him. Even going easy on him, you would beat Rex easily. Teleporting away from any explosives he threw your way, and wrapping smokey black tendrils of darkness around him or, as gently as possible, throwing him into a wall with your telekinesis.

You would always apologize profusely after taking him down, but he would always reassure you that he loved you and your powers. Maybe you would even explore using your powers in more intimate places in the future.

~~~

However, once in a battle with Machine Head and his goons, you start to be overwhelmed with the other's pain. When Rex saw you fall to your knees all he could see was red. You held your head in your hands and started to feel yourself lose control.

Your eyes glazed over black, and you screamed. At this point, Rex had just taken out Machine Head and started running over to you as objects all around you started to float and shake. Kneeling next to you, he took your hands in his.

"Hey, babe, come back to me, everything is going to be okay. You just need to come back," Everyone who wasn't passed out on the ground looked at the tense scene in front of them.

They all knew what could happen if you truly lost control of yourself. You had once leveled a skyscraper only to rebuild it moments later.

Still, some part of you listened to Rex and allowed yourself to come back to wherever in your mind you retreated to. You allowed yourself a vulnerable moment, letting yourself slump into Rex's arms. He held you tight until the medics arrived, and still held your hand when you were carried away on a stretcher, even though you promised you could walk.

~~~

Rex could never let anything bad happen to his girl. You were his everything and the only person he would let his sarcastic walls down for. You appreciated the black roses, and eventually black dahlias he would get you after telling him it was your favorite flower.

He would bandage your wounds after a battle, once you took care of him because you always insisted on patching him up first. Kiss your bruises whenever he sees them. He would put his arms around you when he saw your eyes unfocus and zone out, and bring you back to reality.

He would tell you he loved you at every chance he got and showed you off every time he got the chance.

"Look at this picture of my girlfriend, she's so hot"

"Did you see her fight? She's just so amazing"

"Ah she just makes me feel, so differently than I ever have before"

He practically drooled every time you walked by him. He loves the way you look. Anything you wear he wants to rip off of you and start to kiss every part of you. It could be your skin-tight leotard and cape, your casual sweater and jeans look, or your silly Rex-Splode pajamas he got you as a joke.

(The pajamas do something to him idk)

~~~

Rex has always helped you with the nightmares that plague you when you sleep. When Rex lost his hand in the fight against the Lizard League, you still regret not being there, you helped him through his nightmares. Soothing his mind and, with his permission, lulled him back to sleep with your powers. He knew that subconsciously you were calming him down to the best of your ability, and he knew why he always slept better when you were around. 

You treated Rex like more than he ever saw himself as, and he didn’t treat you like the monster you felt you were. You each healed something inside the other, and if that’s not love then you don’t know what is.

[sashi-ya]

𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐢'𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

⭒ pairing: adult! Ishida Uryu x f! reader. R 18+ ⭒ requested by Anon ⭒ inspired on the song: 𝄞 Baby, I'm Yours by Isabel LaRosa 𝄞 ⭒ tw: MDNI. "public", making out in car. masturbation. Uryu is an adult ~30 y/o. ⭒ masterlist a song + a character event

Cold creeping through your bones, but you can’t feel it. it’s so hot inside. Windows foggy, people passing outside.

Trembling lips, so needy and yet so shy. The way his sharp mandible tenses with each clumsy words you pronounce. His glasses reflecting little fairy lights from the outside of a Starbucks.

Pale skin that shines brightly with a little light illuminating the streets through the windows of your car. A few meters away, lively people having fun, drinking coffee on a late Saturday afternoon.

He fixes his glasses; he is not really listening to what you are saying. If Ishida could melt inside his own jacket he would do it, and yet in all he could think is to kiss your lips. Desperation invades his guts; he wants your hands on his body.

And you want him, you want him too. Oh, so much. You want him so much more, perhaps than he wants you.

Friendship is over, even if it was never friendship after all. The man right by your side, of hot hands and bright eyes won’t move unless you do… and it’s ok, it’s good to be in control too.

Sitting right by each other, you two take sip by sip of the drinks you decided to buy and enjoy in the safety of your own privacy. Or at least, a privacy that’s still public, that it is both safe and also intimate… but not that intimate. Yet.

“I’m finished. I only got the cream left. You wanna throw yours?” Uryu asks you, playing with the whipped rests of the Frappuccino he decided to order. His eyes barely crosses yours, perhaps it is hard for him to look straight into them.

“Oh… no. Thanks I still have some left” you tell him, even if you wish you were talking about self-control. “You can go throw it in the bin, I saw one there” you continue pointing outside, and feeling like every word you say makes less and less sense.

He nods, and before opening the door of your car, he fixes his glasses with slightly veiny hands you are beginning to adore.

Scanning, even the way he moves, your eyes fix on his walking figure. Biting the inside of your lips, you wish him to be only yours… as yours as you are to him. Because you have already told him, and he has done the same, that the attraction was by far mutual.

You wanna hug him. You wanna smell the scent of his skin. You wanna bury your nose into the crook of his neck… and you want his sweet, soft, and delicate voice to turn into moans of pleasure once and for all.

“There, I didn’t have to go inside. There was indeed a bin outside” he says, once sliding inside the car again.

And you two are out of words. Not that the silence in between him and you would make you nervous. In fact, you feel comfortable without the need of speaking… or maybe it is because you tend to trip with your own words whenever he is close to you.

You feel your body tired, and you don’t really know when it happened, but you finally lay your head on his shoulder.

He doesn’t dare to move a single muscle. And now the silence is even louder. The music on the radio plays songs you aren’t sure what they say, nor you care.

Uryu softly places his head on yours, so delicately you can even notice it. He doesn’t even want to bother you with the weight of his own body… -oh, but how you wish he did-

You are tempted to take a closer look at his side profile, because he is so pretty… that it hurts. So, you turn slowly your head towards him.

But his need betrays your work of art appreciation moment… and with a sigh of relief, his lips finally meet yours. Those lips, so pale and soft. Those lips, so dominantly kissing yours in the most sexy way you have ever experienced.

Heartbeat rising, in your chest it feels like jumping. It’s so warm, his mouth in yours feels so warm.

Ishida’s tongue, that’s still too shy to dance with yours, barely touches the tip of your upper teeth. And then, so unexpectedly pleasant, the first bite to your lips. So soft, sensual, and a highly lustful pull that makes you dizzy.

His glasses frame that were up until now carving into your cheekbones, are now who knows where inside the car.

A tiny moan ripped from your insides, your muscles tensing, and the kiss becoming eternal. Your hand, sliding down from your leg to the car shift, and his trapping it. Intertwined, your fingers become. Squeezing hard, as if the closeness of your mouths wasn’t enough to feel connected.

The darkest shade of black of his silky hair in between the fingers of your free hand.  And for minutes, in which your lips become sore from unstoppably kissing, the outside word disappears. A random playlist seems to accompany the sensual aura of the moment, foretelling the ending of a finally unleashed passion.

Taking a little bit of air, you kiss his cheek and then down his neck. The soft scent of his skin mixed with the delicate perfume he wears, gets you drunk in love. You kiss, you lick, you inhale.

“Ngh… (Name)…” he whimpers, clenching his hand in yours. He guides it so that it lands on his chest. You can feel his heart bumping through the thick clothes he wears, his jacket and sweater.

“Mh… Ishida-kun?” you ask, as if you didn’t know exactly what he wanted. Because what he craved for was exactly the same your body craved too.

He lets go of your hand, allowing you to move it freely towards his leg. His head thrown back, hitting the headrest with force. Trembling legs, tenting pants, wet spot under the long shirt covering his crotch.

Uryu sighs, loudly. Your hand touching his lap for the first time… for how long have you both waited? Months? Years… yes, years. Or maybe, all of your life.

Within kisses and touches, the air inside the car becomes scarce; the gushing sound of blood pumping on your ears and the forbidden calling you both to sin. In public, what a perverted idea it is… but your hand surrounding his shaft, so warm and wet, barely covered by the hem of his jacket, cannot be stopped.

And what can’t also be stopped is the way he moans, even more louder than before. Uryu’s cheeks become slightly reddish, that pinkish glow of pumping blood into surface and the throbbing member getting harder and harder.

Mandible muscles tensing, his hands desperately reaching for at least a taste of your body… though, you aren’t interested… you just wanna give him, now, just enough pleasure to see the beautiful painting of a raptured grimace… to hear the sweet melody of succumbing grunts and growls of soft masculinity being unleashed… just and only for, you.

Because, baby I’m yours, and you are so mine too…  

[rockboci]

“Watson, I simply am amazed at how thin you are.” He said; his voice like the heady plumb of pipe smoke. My eyes opened to look down at the face of a one Sherlock Holmes, my most intimate confidant! His grey green eyes gave me the most piercing once over, no doubt silently deducing my person, and what I was up to all these long years. He frowned and pulled me into a fierce hug and told me that if I ever dipped into his private stores that he would kill me. I broke our embrace with laugh and gave him a firm kiss, I would wait till morning for explanations, but for now I wanted, nay needed to touch him and for him to touch me. He continued his ministrations on my clothing as I started to do the same once I exposed enough skin I took a deep draught of scent noting that it had changed slightly, more spicy and altogether more masculine than I remember. Once done undressing, we retired to his room, him leading me by the hand all the while making an observation upon the fact that his bed was a body too small. My checks started to colour considerably at that. He shoved me down rather roughly onto his bed and pounced after me causing quite a clatter, I had hoped it did not awake Mrs. Hudson. He went about grazing his lips on almost ever surface of my body, making me tense. Also of note was that Holmes was proficient in the art of seduction, which hitherto I had thought him incapable of, knowing that he would never acknowledge his bases of desires. However giving his propensity to throw himself completely into analytical experimentation was hardly surprising.

What was surprising was that he was not unresponsive during his administrations, if the feeling of his hard cock on my stomach was any indicator of interest. As he slid the helix of my ear into his mouth I had occasioned to use his first name, which came out grizzled and husky, a clear sign of lust. I then realized how little I used his first name out loud. It was always used with his last in introductions, in a way that suggesting to the one being introduced that they were deficient in intellect at not merely knowing the man on sight or singular quality of his presence. And I quite liked how it sounded, like a secret whispered by lovers the world over.

girl why are you writing fanfiction in my inbox

[yngtort]

𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘦

pairing - h.hyj x blckfem reader

Contents - nsfw(mdni), teasing, dirty talk, praising, sexual tension, kissing, flirting, temp play

Premise - after agreeing to be hyunjins model, y/n ends up with more paint than the canvas

A/n : this has been locked away in the deepest darkest depths of my notes so it’s a lil risqué. There’s no actually smut in this but it hints at it <3 Have funnnn

𖤐

Y/n was really rethinking her life decisions right now.

If she had known that she’d be laying across a white couch, barely clothed in a button up for hours…she wouldn’t have accepted seungmins offer of being a model.

But if she’s completely honest, the thin layer of clothing wasn’t the thing bothering her. Nor was the aching pain in her bones from posing.

It was the burning gaze of the artist in front of her, hwang hyunjin. He sat behind his canvas, pencil in hand as he sketched away. Y/n thought he was a hell of a man, though she’s not special…because everyone on campus thought so as well.

Hyunjin had a princely look to him, long blonde locks and a lean build. People trip over themselves staring at him, no matter the gender. His beauty was undefeated.

Which is why y/n couldn’t help but feel incredibly insecure having him trace every inch her body with his eyes. She’s never felt so vulnerable and embarrassed in her life. Such a gorgeous person using her as a reference for his art. It seemed taboo, like something that should never happen.

She watched from her position as hyunjin pushed back his blonde locks in frustration. Her breath hitched invariably when he looked up from the canvas at her. What was it? Had she done something wrong? Does she look weird? she could feel her body tense at the thought.

Unexpectedly, hyunjin removed himself from behind the canvas. He took a long stride her way and squatted down towards his model. Y/n gulped as he he did so, nervously scooting back in her spot.

“Y-yes?” She stuttered out, eyes darting around and trying to avoid his gaze.

“May I?” hyunjins asked, gesturing to her shirt. She had no idea what he was requesting of her but she still she nodded. She was way too nervous to reject him, especially at this distance.

Y/n watched as the blondes slender fingers started to pop loose the buttons of the silk. He stopped until her collar bones were exposed and the shirt slipped off her shoulders. The action felt so intimate, like something else other than a simple adjustment of clothing was going on.

He then proceeded to pose her. Moving her as gently as possible, like she was a porcelain doll that could break at any-moment.

Y/n’s skin felt like it was on fire. every place his hands touched seemed to burn with the greed for more.

Hyunjin placed his fingers under her chin, slowly tilting it up. Her eyes fluttered at him, brown orbs glossy and he couldn’t help chuckle.

“I’m going to need you relax, sweetheart.” He smiled, “you can do that for me, right?”

Fuck.

Why did his words have to sound like they belong in the bedroom? Y/n’s imagination was running wild, thinking about the scenario where he’d say that to her while…well, yknow.

Not receiving a response, hyun raised an eyebrow at her. The girl was clearly wrapped in her own world and he couldn’t help but smile.

“What are you thinking about so intensely?” He asked, running his finger against her lips.

That gesture was enough to bring y/n back to reality.

“Am i making you uncomfortable? If so, I can find someone else-”

“No!” Y/n had practically screamed, grabbing on to his wrist. Hyunjins eyes had widened just a bit, enough for her to notice. She let go and cleared her throat.

“I mean, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine..I’m just um…self conscious ” She spluttered, eyes darting around once again.

Hyunjin hummed, “do you want some reassurance?”

“Huh?” She blinked.

“Whatever you’re self conscious about, don’t worry about it. I asked seungmin to convince you to be my model for a reason.”

Confusion painted across her face, “you asked for me?”

The blonde nodded with a smile and took one of her hands into his. “From the day I first saw you, I thought you were beautiful. I had never seen someone as stunning as you. I practically begged seungmin to ask you- I wanted to paint you and share your beauty with the world.”

Y/n was speechless. Never did she ever think she’d be hearing such a praise from hwang hyunjin himself. She almost didn’t believe him, but then she remembered the rumor that hyunjin only drew what he found worthy. He had turned down multiple people who had offered to be his muse….but he looked for her specifically. This was crazy.

“Now, please relax. I’m gonna finish off the sketch and start painting soon.” He told and y/n only nodded, still in shock.

“Good girl.”

-

It wasn’t long until hyunjin had finished the sketch. Before y/n knew it the blonde had started pulling out his paint and mixing it. She was a little less tense than before, but she still froze whenever hyun would look up at her from his canvas.

From the moment I first saw you, I thought you were beautiful.

That phrase kept replaying in her head. She found it funny how many times she’s heard those words, but they were always directed towards hyunjin. She chuckled to herself, grabbing the attention of the artist in question.

“What’s got you giggling over there, hmm?” He questioned, peeking up at her again.

“Oh- no it was nothing..” she quickly shook her head, face heating up.

once again, the artists left the canvas. He had his brush and palettes still in his hand. Y/n watched him curiously.

“Do you mind if i see if this color matches?” He inquired.

She was bewildered, but she still nodded. She was too focused on how quickly the distance began to close as hyunjin came down to eye level.

She watched as the brush was brought to the exposed skin of her thigh. Thats when she started to understand what hyunjin was saying.

the icy cold paint made her whimper. Although she tried to muffle it, it could be heard by the artist.

Hyun looked up at her with concern but her facial expression ignited something in him that made him want do it again. “Ah, not close enough .” He sucked in a breath, even though it was the perfect shade of brown.

Once again hyun started to mix paint together, before going in and with another stroke.

Y/n placed a hand over her mouth, trying not to make any weird noise as the artist continued to paint her thighs. For some reason the temperature of the paint on such a sensitive area was sending electrifying sensations through her body.

It felt so good, but so wrong.

For hyunjin, he was enjoying her reactions a little too much. The way she’d tighten her thighs and desperately try to keep quiet, he found it cute.

“Y/n, is there something wrong?” Hyunjin called out to her. She looked at him with wide eyes, completely embarrassed about the feelings coursing through her. “The paint is cold isn’t it?”

“Y-yea..”

“I’m sorry, beautiful. just a hold on a little more. I’m almost there.”

Again, his words were pillow talk worthy. She could feel her chest burn at them.

The brush hit her again and this time she couldn’t stop the moan from leaving her lips. Her eyes met the gaze of hyunjin and she felt like dissolving right there.

“I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean to-”

“I wanna hear it again.” He said

“What?”

In a blink of an eye, hyunjins paint and brushes was discarded on the floor as he placed himself on top of y/n. She was shocked at the man’s actions.

“Can I kiss you ?”

She stared up at him for a second, seemingly questioning if this was actually happening or if this was a crazy dream, before muttering out a soft yes.

With that hyunjin, crashed his lips against hers. The kiss was tender and passionate, their bodies pressed up against eachother. This was the moment they both have been unconsciously waiting for. All the sexual tension that had built up between them in the past few hours had finally been set free.

They let their desires consume them whole. Stripping each other down until they there was nothing but skin.

-

[yantalia545]

Headcanons about a yandere platonic germany? I hope ur having a good day/night ♡

Due to Germany's lack of romance, I can't imagine his relationship with you being much different. Just less intimate and a bit more relaxed with you; Just a tad more relaxed.

As your friend, he'll be very concerned over you much like he is with Italy. Even if you are a bit more put together like Japan, you're still at risk of the others. Especially Russia and America. Just one side glance over something he doesn't like would usually be enough to get them to stop. Though, Germany's not afraid to go verbal if he has to. It's all for you, after all.

Germany will hover over you much like a concerned parent. It would be nice for you since you always know that you have someone strong beside you to help you out if you find yourself in any trouble. However, sometimes he can be a little overbearing and strict. If things are getting a little tense between you two (The WW's for instance), you may suspect him of trying to take over your country or something and begin to restrain your interactions with Germany. Much to his dismay.

There will often be arguments over how much Germany is allowed to be involved in your personal life. Most times, he does tend to back down. Remembering to look over you in a more secretive approach as he apologizes.

He'll definitely dictate who you can consider friends. Germany can't risk losing you over a conflict of interest. Definitely gives in to more trade deals with you than others as an act of friendship. He wants you as close as possible to him without you lashing out at him. Germany desires nothing more than to have as close to a normal relationship with you as possible.

If things do become tense between you two or he feels you're in danger (most likely America and Russia's doing), then he may result in keeping you under rap until everything blows over. If you try to refuse or leave, Germany will take countermeasures. He's not above locking you in his basement until he feels it's safe. You are his dearest friend. It's his job to make sure nothing bad happens to you. Scream and cry at him all you want, but refuses to let you out in inmate danger.

Don't worry though, Germany would treat you much better than any of his prisoners. In his mind, you're not being held captive, you're just too damn suborn to see that you need his protection more than ever right now. You'll be treated with care. The best foods that he prepares, a comfy bed with your favorite colored sheets and comforter to sleep on, and even lots of books, art supplies, and games to keep you occupied while he's away. Have a precious pet? Hell, he brought them along too so you have no need to worry.

It looks like he's been preparing for this for a while now.

Try to escape and well....

~~~~~~~

You don't really know how long you've been down in Germany's care now. A few days. Maybe a week tops. It's hard to tell when there are no windows. The only way you have to tell time is through the different meals that Germany brings.

You've had enough of being here. You just want to go home.

Germany is being weirder than ever and you're not getting much of an answer out of him. From the years that you've known him you know that he can be quite stubborn. If reasoning won't work, then you'll just have to get out yourself and wait for things to die down with Germany again. This isn't the first time he's been too stubborn over something ridiculous.

You were trying your best to pry a bolt out from the barred door. The rock you found was a little too small, but it was all you got. It was like Germany made sure to clean the place you got here.

It was strange being here for lack of a better word. With the way everything was set up, all well put together and thoughtful of your hobbies, You began to wonder what other things Germany does when you're not around. It makes you feel a sort of ick that you just can't seem to shake. How long has Germany been planning to keep you like this? Better yet, when did he start planning?

There was the sound of the familiar screeching of the door from somewhere down the hall and you froze. Germany was coming.

You tried your best to quickly place the bolt loosely back in place. You barely made it over to your bed with a book before Germany was at your cell door.

“Good morning, (y/n).” Germany greeted as if it were a normal day. You tried to keep calm and act like you were reading the whole time, but your heart was pounding. You worried that Germany could hear your racing heart from across the room.

Just before you were about to speak you were interrupted by the sound of a small clink towards the stone floor. Just as Germany was placing the key into the lock, the bolt you were working on fell out of place.

Your heart jumped in your chest when he leaned down and picked up the object; inspecting it closely.

"Huh, the bolt from the door has seemed to come loose. You wouldn't have anything to do with this, would you (Y/N)?" Germany asked. Taunting you. He wasn't a fool. He already knew you were the one to blame. An escape attempt that he's discovered.

You couldn't say a word. You were too stunned to make any sort of movement. You had been revealed by your captor.

A sigh emitted from Germany as he moved his hand through his gelled blonde locks. "You know, I do this for your own good. I tried to be fair to you, but now you leave me with no choice."

Your heart sunk at the thought, 'You leave me no choice'. What does that even mean?!

You could only stare in horror as he opened your cell door and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Out of instinct, you pushed yourself to the opposite side of the bed and pushed the bed at him. Germany didn't have enough time to react before he was knocked over the bed. You only made it about halfway out the your cell when you were tackled to the ground. You tried to retract your hands and get away, but Germany was too strong and pulled your hands behind your back.

[elysiansparadise]

Hi honey, hope you're doing well. Your posts are such a work of art, I enjoy them a lot. Can you write about Saturn in the 8th house🥺.

Thank you in advance🥰

Hello love, I am. I hope you are doing well too. Thank you for your words and of course I can. 🤎

Saturn in the 8th house 

There is something that characterizes the natives a lot with this placement, and that is the fear of being vulnerable, manipulated or controlled by other people, so it is not surprising to see that they are people who do not easily trust others and in fact have a hard time form many intimate bonds with other people. They are very selective people in terms of who they open up to, they can be seen as unapproachable or people who are very distant when in reality they are just taking their time. This placement of Saturn can also tell us that the native felt that he was not sure when he was younger and that he became somewhat distrustful because of it. It is very likely that the reason for their distrust is more from their own experience than from observation, and may be betrayals in childhood, ignored or abandoned needs, or in general some experience when they are young. These people can develop many fears throughout their lives and experience a lot of intensity in their emotional world, but in some way they always prefer to repress what they feel, either because they do not want to open up to anyone or because they feel that people may not take them. really. The relationship with the parents, especially the father, can be somewhat complex, since they feel that there is no understanding, nothing in common or that they cannot count on them.

In general, the relationship with authority figures can be somewhat tense, despite the fact that the native is a respectful person with what is established, it is not surprising to see that some of these people have problems with the native. The natives are people who keep a lot of what they feel and think, they are very reserved with their lives and they can know more about you than you will ever know about them. This placement also plays a role in their mental health, and can cause periods of depression. Another point of this placement is that the natives may fear using their intuition, since some will confuse what they feel with their fears, coming to doubt some premonition for fear of being carried away by their insecurities. It may be common for many of these natives to feel that they cannot connect with people no matter how much they want to. It is likely that they have problems related to their own identity and feel the need to protect some sides of themselves, especially the emotional or spiritual. People may have told them that they were "too intense" or that they tended to exaggerate things. Another of the issues that rules this house is sexuality, the presence of Saturn here may indicate that the natives may be afraid of reaching a certain level of sexual intimacy with someone, that they are very selective or that they may have experiences either very early or very late with sex. 

These people can have a very long life, which, although somewhat tense at the beginning, later improves. They are very ethical and moral people who like to do things well with others, they will treat you the same as you treat them, but they do not forgive easily in case you fail them. They are not likely to forgive betrayal of any kind. They may feel that life is somewhat difficult at times, but they are always able to stand firm on the outside. For them, the karma that falls to those who hurt them is very hard, it may seem somewhat late, but Saturn promises with this placement to hit the stability of those who harmed the native. Since this house governs the money of others, they are people who do not like to have to, they are very prudent and careful with other people's possessions and they know how to respect privacy, they hate invading it because they are very clear with the time they need to spend alone. This point is very important, the time they give themselves for themselves, throughout their lives due to departures from people they loved or having used their time on people who were not worth it, they learned to value time more, designating much of it to yourselves to work on healing. Healing is something that can take some time for them but they are very determined to heal and overcome whatever they have to.

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[circusgoth-dotcom]

Vögelchen

Ship: Hans Gruber x Corey Amonette

Word Count: 1120

Summary: Hans invites Corey to his penthouse and reveals his true nature. CWs for alcohol mentions, gun mention, tense atmosphere. a/n: RGHHAAAAA FIRST GRUBER FIC *stuffs him in my mouth like a piece of paper and runs off*

Tag List: @canongf @futurewife @rexscanonwife

Corey Amonette had been Hans Gruber's partner for two months, rapidly approaching three. What had initially been a strictly professional relationship was bowing under the weight of romantic tension. Hans had invited Corey to dinner with a few of his colleagues, giving him a much-deserved break from the usual number-crunching and planning he spent his non-academic hours on.

They sat directly next to each other; Hans’ men didn't speak much English and Corey only spoke enough German to get him through school. It was nice not having to pay for something himself, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the others were leering at him, whispering to each other things he’d yet to add to his lexicon.

Hans invited him back to his penthouse for post-dinner drinks. “This way, if you’d please.” The sharply dressed man led him down a short hallway when the elevator doors opened. It was clean and well-lit, the air smelled faintly of carpet cleaner. “Did you enjoy dinner?”

“Oh, yes, Danke,” Corey nodded, smoothing down the front of his pants as Hans stopped at a door, removing his keys from his pocket.

“Your studies are going smoothly?” They entered the apartment, stepping into darkness as Hans closed the door behind him.

“Yes.” Smooth, but exhausting.

“Sehr gut.”

A soft click and the lights came on, casting the entryway and sunken living room beyond it in a comfortable orange glow. An extravagant art deco chandelier hung over a glass coffee table surrounded by cushy furniture. There was a large couch and a set of armchairs wrapped in red leather, and a navy blue rocking chair sat beside a glossy black fireplace. Corey couldn't help but gasp, though he should've expected that Hans would live luxuriously. He had told him he was an art collector: Charon Ferrying The Shades by Pierre Subleyras hung above the mantle, the Ferrier’s pale back turned toward the viewer. He hadn’t realised they had walked further into the room together until Hans was opening a liquor cabinet.

“What tickles your fancy, hm? Something sweet or something scorching?”

“Sweet, please. This place is gorgeous, Hans.”

He chuckled and lifted a heavy-looking bottle from the cabinet, then fished two glasses from a lower shelf. He placed the items on the coffee table. “Danke, mein Freund. Please, sit.”

Hans poured the drinks and Corey sat on the couch, the day's weight almost instantaneously lifted from his weary shoulders. He sighed and stretched, taking the glass offered to him. Hans took off his suit coat and momentarily excused himself, likely to hang it up so that it wouldn’t wrinkle. He was a very particular man, to be suave in nature was only half the battle; he needed to look the part, too. He soon returned and picked up his own glass, settling into one of the armchairs.

“Thank you for having me to dinner,” Corey mentioned after taking a swig of the saccharine liquor. Its level of sweetness surprised him, as Hans never struck him as the type of man with a taste in such things.

“Of course, Amonette. You are a vital asset, it would’ve been counterproductive not to have you attend.”

A beat of silence passed and Corey felt awkwardness tugging at him. Hans stood and he looked up, lowering his glass. He felt warmth beneath his glasses… it wasn’t often he saw Hans without the full “businessman” set. He’d lost his tie, too. Even if it was a button-down and slacks, it felt intimate. He could feel just how powerful Hans was through that thin fabric and across the feet of space between them.

“You’re not an art collector, are you?” He surprised himself with the accusation. Hans froze, then chuckled again and smiled.

“Have you finally caught on, Vögelchen?”

Corey set down his glass, scooting back slightly on the leather cushion. “I didn’t mean to insinuate anything, I don’t know why… are you not?”

Hans looked between him and the painting on his wall, swirling the drink in his glass. “I am… but it’s not my true trade, Amonette. Whether you’ve realised this,” he set down his drink and walked over to the fireplace, taking a wooden box off of the mantle. He opened it and took out a pistol. “Or not.”

Corey’s eyes widened. “Mr. Gruber?”

“Please, call me Hans.” He took a microfibre cloth from the box and began wiping down the barrel of the gun, not looking up at him. “And do not be frightened. I mean you no harm.”

Corey nodded, watching him carefully. “Of course… why would you?”

Hans’ eyelids flickered. “Do you want to know the truth of the busy work I send you each day? Or, you could leave now, and cut ties with our partnership. I will be nothing more but someone you knew, once, a long time ago.”

“Who are you?”

Hans stopped cleaning his gun, glossing over it before lowering his arm and straightening his back. “Very well. I am a member of the Volksfrei Movement, perhaps you’ve heard of it.”

Corey nodded again, slowly. “Yes… on the news…” His mouth had gone dry and he snatched up his glass, finishing what was left of the drink offered to him.

“But moreover, I am a professional thief. The Movement provides decent cover, Gott sei Dank für die organisatorischen Fähigkeiten…” Finally, he looked at him. “Now that you know this, you’ve sealed your fate with me, Amonette. But I’m sure that’s fine by you, you were already doing a beautiful job at keeping my schedule on track, and your salary has furnished you well, based on that English Leather cologne I’ve been huffing all night.”

Corey bolted to his feet. “Do you not like it??” And his face burst into flame with embarrassment. Hans raised an eyebrow and stalked closer, gun still held firmly in a powerful hand. Feet became inches, then centimetres between the two men. Hans’ breath tickled Corey’s skin as he firmly shut his eyes.

“Mir gefällt es ganz gut.” It took a moment for Corey to register that Hans had placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. “It’s late, Vögelchen. I’m sure you have some studying to do this weekend. You can sleep in the guest room, breakfast will be ready at eight-thirty and no later, and then I will take you home. Verstanden?”

Hans did not wait for a response before he disappeared up a tightly spiralled staircase. Sweat had bloomed on Corey’s skin and he deflated like a balloon when he was sure Hans was gone, exhaling loudly as his eyelids came unglued. His heart pounded in his chest. His tongue ran over his lips. He wanted more. By God, did he want more.

[fawnandshadows]

How You Get The Girl

Chapter Three

Chapter Two

AO3

Word Count: 2k

Warning: Swearing

“How does this work?” Elain asked, shifting from foot to foot as Azriel snapped his black latex gloves into place.

“You’re gonna have to lay down,” Azriel said, nodding to the table. The only flat surface available.

“On the table?”

“On the table.” He confirmed with a small smile.

“And how…” She trailed off and continued at Azriel’s cocked eyebrow. “How undressed should I get?”

Azriel’s face stayed blank and impassive at her question, but he did take a moment to respond. His eyes on her and the only sounds in the world were that of distant traffic and Cassian singing along to Lynyrd Skynyrd as he drove — Elain wondered if he was truly oblivious as to what was happening behind him, or if we was simply giving Elain and Azriel as much privacy as he could afford.

“Pants should be lowered, if not off.”

He stared at her and Elain wondered if there was actually a challenge in his eyes, or if that was an illusion of her own making.

With a steadying deep breath Elain’s hands found the button of her jeans and quickly unfastened it. She slowly lowered the zipper and the metallic sound of the prongs pulling apart didn’t register over the pounding of her own heart.

She stood with her thumbs hooked in the waistband of her jeans as she debated her next move. Azriel’s eyes intense as they stayed locked on her, waiting to see what she did next.

Elain listened to the little voice in her head, the one that urged her to ignore Future Elain and give into her little reckless abandon, and shimmed her curved hips as she pushed down her jeans.

A burning blush coated her cheeks as she stood in nothing but her underwear, socks, and Azriels sweatshirt.

She leaned to pick up her jeans and deliberately ignored Azriel’s eyes as she folded the fabric and placed it on her vacated seat.

“Table.” Azriel said in a firm voice.

Elain nodded her head and spun around before thinking too much about it and sat on the table — the chilled surface jolting her a bit. She scooted back so that her shins were hanging off the table and she was flat on her back.

“Like this?” Elain asked, and before he could answer she moved. Her hands went to the hem of her sweatshirt and pulled it over her head, exposing her tank top.

“Pillow.” Elain explained, bunching up the fabric into a ball and resting her head on top of it.

Azriel’s eyes dragged over her form. Across her white tank top and the cobalt bra that was peaking out of it, over her simple cotton panties and down the length of her legs.

“Move your waistband up a bit,” Azriel nodded to her hip, not meeting her gaze and letting his dark hair fall over his face.

She adjusted her position and used a hand to clear the area for Azriel, bringing the fabric well over her right hip, the one farthest from Azriel.

“Should I lift my leg for you?”

Elain studied his profile and noted the tension in his jaw.

Azriel gave one tense nod and Elain lifted her knee up in the air.

He ignored her as he got a few last minute things in order. Making sure everything was right with the tattoo gun, and Elain wondered if he was always this thorough when double checking his equipment — but then his hand landed on her thigh.

Warm. Even through the latex glove Azriel’s hand was so warm it was nearly suffocating her. He pushed her thigh back to give himself more space and Elain had to focus on keeping her breath steady as he leaned closer to the inside of her legs.

She was barely aware of the steady buzzing of the needle because she couldn’t register anything beyond the heavy weight of his hand and the dampness of his breath brushing against her skin.

He was consuming all of her senses that she almost missed the needle piercing her skin.

Her teeth sank into her lip as he tattooed her — there was something unexpectedly intimate about letting him draw on her skin. Tattooing was his art and it would forever be displayed on her body.

It became increasingly hard to breathe the longer he worked. And every once in a while her breath would hitch as the needle worked over her sensitive skin, and the only indication Azriel gave of acknowledging her reaction came from the way his fingers would tighten their grip on her thigh.

With the most delicate precision, Azriel wiped away the blood trickling from her skin.

He stayed professional.

Acting as if his head wasn’t essentially between her legs.

“I think we’re done.” Azriel said quietly, blotting away the last traces of blood. He shifted a bit to look at his work from a new angle, exposing more of his face to Elain. And Elain was desperately trying to pick apart and read his expression that neither of them noted the shuffling at the back of the bus and the footsteps passing across the hallway.

“What, the fuck, am I looking at?”

Elain jerked at the sound of Rhysands voice, her hips bucking a bit, but Azriel kept her in place with his firm grip on her hips.

“I’m tattooing a client.” Azriel said in a cool voice. Elain and Rhys both knew him well enough not to have missed the sharp edge in his voice.

“Good,” Rhysand said, and Elain pulled her eyes away from Azriel to finally look at Rhys. He ran a hand over his face and tugged at his black strands. “I was afraid you were doing something stupid.”

“Rhys.” Elain said gently, pushing herself up onto her elbows.

His violet eyes landed on hers and Elain could feel the scarlet blush scorching her cheeks. Azriel didn’t move and Elain realized he was blocking her bottom half from Rhys.

“Yes, Elain? Care to explain why his head was between your legs?”

Elain wasn’t going to let herself be cowed by him when she didn’t do anything wrong.

“I wanted my tattoo somewhere where others wouldn’t see and judge.” She stared him down as the words left her lips, and Rhys had the grace to look a little sheepish.

“Elain,” Rhsyand took a deep breath.

“Be careful with what you say.” Azriel said, not bothering to look at his superior as he leaned forward a little to grab his bundled up sweatshirt.

Rhysand glared at the back of his head.

“In the past twenty four hours you traveled cross country by yourself and involved one of my men to do it, and you allowed another one of my men to tattoo you in a place where all three of us know your parents won’t like.”

“I’m 21.”

“And your parents sign our paychecks.”

Azriel unraveled the fabric and gingerly placed it over her lap.

“She didn’t do anything wrong.” Azriel said, scooting out of the seat and turning to stare at Rhysand as he took off his latex gloves.

“You don’t think she was at fucking risk traveling by herself without our knowledge?”

“Of course she was,” Azriel said cooly, and Elain tried to ignore the stab of hurt that sliced through her ribs. “But nothing happened. She wasn’t hurt. She found her family. She—”

“She let some guy ten years older than her tattoo pubic—”

“Eight,” Azriel cut him off in a knife life voice. “And lots of people get their bikini line tattooed.”

“Do you really think her father,” Rhys pointed a finger at her and Elain dug her fingers into the cotton sweatshirt on her lap. “Will love that some guy eight years older than her had his face between her legs while giving her a tattoo. Fuck, we all know how much he hates tattoos. He tells us every time he sees ours.”

“He’s not some guy,” Elain said harshly, sitting up fully now and staring dagger at Rhysand. “He protected Feyre from Tamlin.”

She almost felt bad for the words, hitting Rhysand where it hurt. Feyre. She felt gross bringing up Tamlin, but it was true. Azriel has been protecting Feyre for years and he was the one that caught Tamlin, Feyre’s ex-boyfriend, when he was breaking into their house and terrorizing her.

Rhysand ran a hand over his face. Again.

“I just,” He took a deep breath. “Your parents are protective over you, Elain.”

“I was gone for two days and my parents never noticed.”

His shoulders sank.

“They’re not protective in the right way,” A sadness flowed in his violet eyes. “They care about who you marry,” Elain winced at that. How her parents were urging her towards Graysen, the son of their best friends. “They are about your image,” The girl on the cover of magazines. The girl with the third most followers on Instagram. The girl with the most beautiful face in the world. “They’re going to care about Azriel touching and permanently marking their daughter.”

“He’s right.” Azriel said quietly.

“It’s not their decision.” Elain said a voice that she hoped was firm.

“I just want you both to be careful.” Rhysand said, looking between the two of them. His expression sharpened a bit as he looked to Azriel.

Azriel gave a terse nod.

“I don’t want to cause any trouble for you. Either of you.”

“I know, Elain,” Rhysand said, looking at her softly. “I want you to be honest, really honest, did something happen before you left?”

“Yes. No. It’s silly.”

Azriel turned, crossing his inked arms over his chest, and looked at her with a furrowed brow. Elain felt as if the attention of the entire world was on her. He silently asked her to go on.

“My parents were planning a party,” She felt silly, sitting there on the table talking to them about her problems. “And they invited Graysen. There was talk of a proposal, which is so-so — we aren’t even dating. We broke up a few weeks ago. But I heard my mom talking about our wedding and I just — I had to leave. No one was there. And I’ve been wondering why my parents didn’t want me to go on tour with everyone else, and now I know. It’s because of this. They wanted to get me alone because they-they thought I would give I’m if no one was around. And I’m afraid that they might have been right.”

The two of them stood in silence as they took in her words.

“We would have helped you, Elain,” Rhysand said gently. “We have an extra man here. One of us would have flown back to pick you up.”

A small smile twisted on her lips.

“It was kind of exciting to travel by myself.”

Rhysand begrudgingly smiled at her and nodded.

“I’m going to head back to bed,” Rhysand started and pointed at his brother. “Stay out of her legs.”

Azriel stared coldly at him as he walked away.

“Did you pack any skirts or dresses?” Azriel asked her abruptly.

“Yes,” Elain responded. “You know they’re my favorite.”

Azriel nodded and smiled slightly.

“Shorts and pants might irritate your skin.”

“What am I going to sleep in?” Elain teased.

Azriel cocked his head to the side.

He took a step closer to her and tugged at the sweatshirt on her lap.

“This should work,” Azriel stated. “Or I have some shirts you could borrow.”

“You just want to see me in your clothes.”

“So?”

Elain grinned broadly at him.

“I’m not hearing anything,” Cassian called from the driver's seat. “Definitely not hearing any flirting after Rhysand told you guys to keep it in your pants.”

“You can sleep in my nook tonight.”

“Thanks,” Elain said breathlessly as he helped her off of the table. She slipped into his sweatshirt as she stood in front of him. “Good night, Azriel.”

They looked at each other for a moment. Streetlights streaming through the blinds and highlighting the sharp edges on Azriel’s face.

“Good night Elain.”

She could feel him watching as she walked away.

——

tagging: @123moiaussi @fuckmelifesucks @thefangirlofhp @sakurakittypeach @nikethestatue @tswaney17 @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @feyredarlinq @duskwhisperer @nyxreads @rinadragomir @secretpuppyflower @captainbrucebanner @ultadverb @irisesforelain @shedoessoshedoes  @magnolia-blossom87 @sheenabeene @nivem565  @casuallivi @rhysiedarling @elain99-blog @athena-85 @swankii-art-teacher @reverie-tales @jujugirlfrombookstore @shadowflorecita  @shy-violet-soul @thisloveseternal

[elliemarchetti]

Out Of The Fuckzone

For @conchitamendez, I hope this is passionate enough and my fading to black game isn't too weak in the end

prompt c of my alphabet of flowers prompts list and nearly half of this absolutely filthy list from @dumplingsjinson (girl, how are you ok after this?)

Plot: Marlene and Sirius are friends with benefits, but one of their encounters turns out to be more intimate than usual

Rating: Explicit (but there’s a little plot in my smut so 🤷🏼‍♀️)

Words: 1993

The sixth’ years free periods weren’t hours of blissful relaxation as the Marauders had suggested when they first saw their schedule, but times in which to attempt to keep up with the vast amount of homework they were being set. Not only were they studying as though they had exams every day, but the lessons themselves had become more demanding than ever before, to the point Marlene barely understood half of what Professor McGonagall said and even James, who was a pro in the subject, had to ask her to repeat instructions once or twice. To soothe the panic running wild in the magical community, nonverbal spells were now taught not only in Defence Against the Dark Arts but in Charms and Transfiguration as well, and every time Marlene looked over at her classmates in the common room or at mealtimes, she often saw them purple in the face and straining. Their only solace was the time spent into the greenhouses, and although they were dealing with more dangerous plants than ever in Herbology, at least they were still allowed to swear loudly if the Venomous Tentacula seized them unexpectedly from behind. One result of their enormous workload and the frantic hours of practicing was that Sirius and Marlene’s relief encounters became a nearly daily affair. All it took was a look or a nod, and the two would retreat to an empty and secluded closet they’d discovered more or less halfway through the previous year to release some tension. The smell wasn’t the best, and the lighting was almost nil, leading to ridiculous shenanigans, but it was a place of their own, where no one could hear them nor would look for support and suggestions from their already drained minds.

“I hope I’m not being too needy,” said Marlene, as soon as the door closed behind Sirius’ shoulders. It was the second evening in a row in which she was the one to give the signal, but she could no longer stand the tense silence of the room she shared with Lily, nor Dorcas casting dreamy glances at Remus every time he breathed.

“Well, I like it when you’re needy,” replied Sirius, roughly loosening his tie. A split second, and his soft lips met Marlene’s, so hungry one would think years had passed since the last time they kissed and not barely twenty-four hours. Everyone knew the two friends occasionally fucked, and although Mary had her suspicions about who Marlene kept seeing when she slipped out of the dormitory in the middle of the night, no one imagined that it was always in each other’s company that they spent their time. Being in Sirius’ arms was like coming home after a long day in the cold and throwing yourself on the sofa, under a cosy duvet in front of the crackling fireplace, and it certainly didn’t hurt that this duvet liked to squeeze her ass whenever he could. Back at the beginning of their fourth year, when they shared their first kiss in one of the thousand alcoves of Hogwarts, both more drunk than they’d wanted to admit, she’d considered his shamelessness a little childish, almost as if he wanted to hide a certain inexperience by appearing confident and straight to the point, but now, when she felt his long fingers go down from her waist to her hips, she melted under his touch.

“I like it when you’re like this,” he repeated softly, in the little time he had between having his mouth claiming hers and his teeth biting lightly at her earlobe. He feverishly licked and sucked, leaving a trail of small love marks and saliva running from her exposed neck almost to her sternum. Her mind, clouded by the heat of the moment, was a kaleidoscope of desires at odds with each other, making her unable to decide if she wanted him closer or she wished to take things slow, if she wanted him to touch her or keep up with whatever he was doing. A whimper escaped her lips when he unexpectedly picked her up and pressed her against the nearest wall, her legs tightly wrapped around him, his hipbones pressing on her inner thighs. As their kisses deepened, Sirius began to thrust into her with his clothes still on, the evidence of his arousal sliding against her naked, aching core. Obscene moans crawled up her throat as he increased the pace of his movements and started to undo the last buttons of her uniform, so rudely it almost seemed like they insulted him just by being there. Suddenly, his hands were everywhere under her shirt, now completely open, his fingertips trailing she shape of her nipples under the sheer fabric of her underwear, switching something in her brain. She needed him to take away with his kisses and caresses the stress and the frustration of feeling in constant danger, to help her ignore the reality of what was happening outside school, something that knocked on their doors in the form of the Daily Prophet’s delivery every morning.

“Seems like I have to work harder than usual today to have your undivided attention,” Sirius whispered, snapping her out of the dark path her thoughts had taken. Even from so close, with his hair dishevelled, his dark eyes lit by passion and his lips red and swollen, he was absolute, exquisite perfection.

“Maybe I just need to hear you tell me how much you want me,” she replied, a smirk spreading across her flushed face. With anyone else she would’ve been too embarrassed to speak, but he was Sirius, and there were no words to explain how comfortable she felt in his presence, hence she fact she was without panties, something he seemed to realize only once he regained his grip on her ass to lay her down on the covers he’s brought from his room a month prior.

“I’ve never wanted to fuck you more than I do now,” he nearly growled, fondling the wetness between her legs. Marlene held her breath as a jolt of pleasure shot through her nerves, another following shortly after, too light and slow to let her reach her peak but not less thrilling. Judging by his amused look, Sirius was enjoying every second of the methodical torture, the expression drawn on her face every time he touched her clit and the little “o” her lips formed when he slid his index inside her. Sweet sounds fell out of her mouth as he set his rhythm, and Marlene could do nothing to stop them beside hiding her face in his shirt, praying she wasn’t being too loud. She didn't want to think about what might happen if they were discovered, she didn't even want to try to imagine how she would feel explaining the situation to her parents. They would’ve forbidden her to see him again, that was for sure, and she would probably never have the chance to meet her friends again, and...

“Can you please tell me what’s bothering you instead of insisting in having sex?” Sirius asked, dropping to her side. He didn’t seem angry, rather vaguely worried, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, just like when the full moon approached.

“But we’re here for it,” she protested, and although it might sound bad to say to so openly, it was true. Outside those squalid walls they were simple friends who liked to flirt, nothing more, but while they were in the closet they became different people, who had no reason to carry around the burdens of what was behind the thin door, or their meetings would’ve lost their meaning.

“I’m not here just for it, and you know it,” he replied, resolute. In total honesty, Marlene had suspected for a while that Sirius might have feelings for her, but since he’d never brought up the subject, she too had remained silent, letting everything remain in that comfort zone they’d built for themselves. After all, she too had long since stopped paying attention to other boys, her every need fulfilled by her friend, but putting a label on what they were came with risks, many of which she was unwilling to take.

“School’s ending,” she admitted after she realized he would’ve waited all night to hear her vent, her eyes stubbornly fixed on the wooden beams of the ceiling in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. She was sure she would miss every detail of that stupid building, every damn stone and every puddle that formed in the courtyard as soon as a few drops of rain fell, but more than anything she would miss the chatter, the laughter, and the tasteless jokes of the Marauders, whom in the vast majority of cases got her in trouble too.

“Marlene, the school year just started,” Sirius pointed out, perplexed.

“But we’re in our sixth year, and it’s nearly Halloween, and next year it’ll all be over, and…”

“And you don’t know if you’re ready to leave it all behind,” he concluded, as if he knew where the conversation was going. Maybe he already had this discussion with someone else, or maybe he was the one scared of the future, since the Potters’ kindness couldn’t be infinite and at some point he would have to find a job to support himself. Either way, it was evident he understood, so she nodded, and let Sirius slip his arm under her head to pull her closer.

“I know that what awaits outside is scary,” he reassured her, lazily drawing infinites on the bare skin of her shoulder. “But graduation doesn’t mean we forget about each other and move on with our lives. Lily, Dorcas and Mary will always be there for you. James and Remus as well. And rest assured nothing will be enough to get rid of me.”

“Are you saying we’ll see each other during the summer too?” Marlene asked, lifting her head slightly to meet his grey eyes.

“If you want me,” he replied with a smile, after which he pressed a delicate kiss on the tip of her nose. Despite the amount of times they’d seen each other naked, despite the decidedly steamy acts they’d engaged in, this gesture was more intimate than anything they’d shared before.

“I would be glad to host you for a while,” she confirmed, and his features lit up with a new light, something she saw happen only sporadically with James. No one had appreciated his presence when he still lived with his parents at Grimmauld Place, and although he had countless friends ready to include him in any kind of activity, although he was always joking and acting unserious, old habits were hard to suppress, and the need to belong to something, to someone, showed through the cracks in the mask. That was why she was sure he would join the Order of the Phoenix, just like her brother did the previous years. None of them would’ve backed down if Dumbledore asked for their help, no matter how many casualties the Daily Prophet listed every day. It was for a good cause, and although she wanted to live, and see things, and travel the world, she also wanted people like Lily to have a place in the Wizarding World, to ease those divisions that would make her, Sirius and the Muggleborns three different categories of people, one more worthy than the others and one little more than animals.

“Maybe I’ll even get to see a Hebridean Black in person,” Sirius mused, and before Marlene could remind him how aggressive those dragons were, and how her family would’ve never let them venture in their territory, he placed a single finger, still smelling of her, on her lips.

“No lectures for now,” he murmured, although he seemed quite distracted by how she started to suggestively suck at it. “Let me celebrate the fact I’m finally out of the fuck zone in the way every man would.”

[decaying-words]

Venus in Furs

All chapters Edward Nigma x Reader • 18+ Explicit • 2.7k words TW & tags: Body hair, body worship AO3 • All my stories

"A pleasure foreign and unknown, I believe, one that frightens him as much as it burns him, this scorching desire to be worshiped in a way he never dared to intellectualize or even rationalize, too primal and vulgar for his status, but always dreamed of, secretly, underneath his complex neural system, where his most carnal designs rest, neglected and ignored."

Venus in Furs

Edward sighs profoundly, suffering a heartache no one can really understand the nature of, contemplating his multitude of screens as if he were a firefly during the midsummer night, too captivated by the foreign lights to decide whether they could be harmful or not. A green inferno licks his marble pallor, giving him a look reminiscent of a deity, otherworldly and unreachable; his forehead lays heavy against his closed fist, body slumped on his throne, defeated and discouraged.

Is there a sight more painful, I wonder, when his eyes, usually so bright and expressive, remain still on the ground while his lips, thin and chapped,  twist in anguish and disappointment. I need not to ask what happened, for I can easily piece it together; through the screens, the once carefully and meticulously crafted room is now thrashed and broken, chaotic and desecrated. Splinters of green glass lay limp on the ground, last remains of a spoiled and ruined trophy. It is without a doubt the doing of a man who has not an ounce of sensibility; a bull, grotesque and cruel, who took great satisfaction, I’m sure, in the destruction of Edward’s art. I do not say his name, as it angers him; only he does, although always with violence, contempt and fury.

In fact, I try not to make a single noise, for it would no doubt disturb his thoughts; the Riddler’s brain never ceases to gallop in the grandiose lands of his intellect, and I sense that already he is plotting his new masterpiece. 

We haven’t talked about last time’s incident, I suspect he prefers it that way. I notice, however, that he looks at me more often now; a development that brings me immense joy. At night, when my fingers are quick and my breath is hitching, I drink the memories of his broken moans and the taste of his semen on my tongue. I wonder if he thinks of me also, I wonder if he looks back at that time with pleasure and fondness, or, on the contrary, with fear and disgust. It is hard to tell what really is on his mind, impenetrable and undecipherable, especially with his mercurial demeanor, as if ardently occulting his most intimate emotions.

I do not believe for an instant that he bears the same tenderness and adoration as I do, and I would be foolish to mistake his pity for care; yet, my heart sings all the same as with a lover when in his presence, simply lucky and grateful to assist him in his dream.

His fingers, covered in dust and paint, nervously drum on the metal of his desk, betraying an internal conflict that I regret not knowing intimately. Instead, my demure eyes stare at the muscles working in his throat, tensing the skin and revealing a perfect Adam’s apple.

The thin flesh adorns a capricious stubble, uneven tones made of beige, blue and rosy hues, and sinuous patterns of wrinkles forged with age. Following the contours of his sternum, I observe his exposed chest, the hair there viciously dark in stark contrast to his milky skin, moving at the measure of his agitated breath. A salty veil of sweat makes his skin glow eerily under the artificial light, not dissimilar to honey covering the fur of a wild beast. There is a palpable shame that knots my stomach when my mind wanders to darker places where passion and adoration collide and break, creating a sinful and unsatisfied need. 

In a similar manner, his toned arms are covered in the same opaque yet more sparse, more delicate hair; when his muscles roll beneath his skin it looks like the waves of a beaming ocean. There is no doubt in my mind that his hair must feel thick and coarse on the touch, coated in the grime and dirt of his workshop, caked with soot and sweat from his diaphoretic efforts. I feel an obsessive growth in my soul, similar to the bud of a depraved fruit, a reprehensible desire to sink my fingers in the wooly locks and smell their perfume until it is all I can feel and think of.

When I accidentally clear my throat a bit too loudly for the quasi silent room, he turns his face to me, almost surprised, as if not expecting my presence. I believe my capacity to conceal myself is a quality he appreciates, or perhaps does he simply not care enough to notice when I’m around. The thought upsets me. I wear a timid smile on my face, my posture impeccably straight, hands clasped together and resting on my stomach in a submissive position reminiscent of a dog waiting for permission to move. He furrows his brow, a glimpse of discomfort in his eyes, as he massages his forehead. He opens his mouth, visibly about to say something, but decides otherwise, changes his mind and looks away; there is so much hurt and discouragement on his face. My smile falters.

He doesn’t have the right to take away his light, I think to myself. He doesn’t have the right to mock and humiliate the Riddler, to disrespect everything that he represents and ruin his design. How dare he . My jaw clenches, apoplectic with the certainty that Gotham doesn’t deserve him, his creativity, his talent; at times, I am quite convinced that only I fully grasp his importance; a thought that gives me both satisfaction and disarray.

Edward looks in the horizon, as if lost, sighing once more, chest sinking and gaze dull; I wonder, is he feeling insecure right now, is he doubting himself? My heart grows heavy with the foolish desire to cup his face and comfort him like one would with a lover; but my lover he is not, and I know that the intimate touch would be most inappropriate.

His fatigued form is sunken in the large armchair with the grandiose limpness of a cadaver; his legs are spread widely in disinterest while his elbows are resting on the arms of his throne with a hand almost completely occulting his eyes in a dramatic manner. His position and the raw anguish it exhales is not dissimilar to a somber painting from the Caravaggio, heavy and powerful in nature, yet utterly heartbreaking and so humane. It is hard to consider him a man amongst other men when everything about him screams of a God, and how does one even comfort a God, I ask myself. Two beaming emeralds interrogate me silently, his intense gaze giving my heart frantic tremors. He cannot understand you, I murmur. Not like I do, I confess. 

“You? Understand me?” He cocks a brow and inspires loudly, a taunting inflection in his venomous words; there is an arrogant fire in his eyes, one that seems to mock me and my feelings. He knows that I do not mind his insult, nor do I fear his humiliation; but he has yet to realize how loyal and devoted I truly am. Perhaps will he care more then, knowing that I am an unbreakable toy; perhaps will he show vulnerability and find in me someone he can trust, if he cannot love –anyone else but himself, that is.

I assume a position he’s already been acquainted with once before, kneeling between his legs. His demeanor shifts slightly, the muscles in his jaw relaxing, as if now familiar with what is about to happen to him, even though the same certainty isn’t clear to me. There is a subtle flush tinting his cheeks, I am unsure whether it is out of discomfort, shyness or arousal. It could be all of them at the same time. 

“I don’t need your help, I don’t need this…” he spits, justifying himself from an unknown and imaginary accusation of weakness. I know, I say. You allow me. He smirks, satisfied with my answer, comforted in my submissive nature, which he seems to be particularly fond of. His entire body seems to ease slightly, his legs spreading wider to better accommodate my weaker form, an expectant look on his face. He’s changed since the first time; he seems more eager to receive, more detached also. There is in his demeanor a visceral need to regain control, to forget tonight’s complete humiliation and feel anew again. I expected as much. I can give him the balmy reassurance his aching ego so desperately craves, the soothing attention his bruised pride so voraciously demands.

My hands run over his clothed thighs, carefully considering my next action. There is an evident possibility, an obvious answer that comes to me akin to Pavlov’s dog, my mouth watering in an organic reaction to my thoughts; but I refuse to be a passive tool that will bore him. I need to show, and prove to him that I am the best follower, the only one he needs, the only one worthy of his time. There is a shameful glimpse of hope beneath the surface; a yearning desire to be held and considered, to feel unique in his eyes. Am I being too greedy, I wonder?

My trembling fingers hold the hem of his dirty, torn and ruined beater as if akin to some precious silk and not a disgusting rag; his expression is one of amusement and curiosity as he observes my pensive gaze. He cocks a brow when I lift the wrecked fabric, uncovering his stomach; finely toned underneath a small and fatigued pouch betraying his age, the skin is covered in sweat, grime, and, oh! more of his exquisite dark hair. I sense his quizzical gaze upon me as I approach my face, smelling his natural essence, lost in the miasm of filth it’s been soaking in all day long. It’s strong and salty, a humid stench from his intense labor, one that makes my legs shiver and my sex pulsate with a well known desire and appetite. I press a chaste kiss on his hairy stomach, feeling his coarse hair tickling the thin flesh of my lips as I taste his filth. His skin is warm and soft, dipping graciously when my mouth brushes against it, my nose sinking in the ocean of his glistening fur and inhaling his acrid scent, too tempting not to taste and absorb. My desire for him is philosophical, spiritual and carnal; and I would be foolish to miss an opportunity to express and confess my intimate affection. 

His eyes widen in surprise, and perhaps something close to arousal when he sees my tongue, red and glistening, parting my lips and lapping his burning skin. I notice the way he shivers when I draw a path amongst the dark fur of his stomach with the tip of my appendage, the sensation clearly foreign and confusing to him. Holding entire strands of hair between my lips, I suck pearls of sweat and filth; it tastes awfully salty and acidic, and smells just as strongly. My head spins, drowning in his distinctive scent, intoxicated with the sensation of his fur on my wet organ; warmth and pleasure build up in my guts when I catch him sigh softly in surprise when my tongue brushes a particularly sensitive part of his lower belly. 

His grip on the arm of his throne turns knuckle white, his gaze heavy with lust and desire, yet I wonder what exactly overwhelms him so; is it my submissive position, kneeling between his legs akin to a dog begging for its master? Is it the complete and total control and power he has over me without even trying? Is it having his body in its integral form, in its most intimate and purest shape, worshiped and desired? All I know is that he hisses through his teeth at each flick of my tongue, and exhales loudly when I bury the appendage in his navel, where the taste is stronger and his hair rolls in my mouth.

Propping myself up on my knees, my mouth leaves a trail of burning kisses over his stomach, lifting his beater revealing his aging chest, the flesh soft and tender, and covered in swirled fur; a thick forest with two rosy fruits where his nipples are, erected and beaming under the artificial light. I stare at them through half lidded eyes before my glassy eyes sink into his, curious, uncomfortable and viciously aroused; a pleasure foreign and unknown, I believe, one that frightens him as much as it burns him, this scorching desire to be worshiped in a way he never dared to intellectualize or even rationalize, too primal and vulgar for his status, but always dreamed of, secretly, underneath his complex neural system, where his most carnal designs rest, neglected and ignored.

With the finesse of a feather, my trembling fingers reach for his pectoral muscles, delicately defined with effort and softened with age, caressing the coarse hair under his encouraging but still timid hums. His breath hitches deliciously when I kiss the plush flesh, finding his velvety nipples and feeling them with the pads of my fingers. When my mouth closes around an hardened bud, Edward chokes a noise akin to one a wounded animal would make; it’s organic and devastating, and only fuels my own feverish desire, sucking lovingly on his sensitive fruit, nibbling the flesh tenderly and rolling the other between my fingers. His hand is hesitant when it slips his fingers in my hair, pressing my head closer to his chest; a quiet plea that I immediately answer with a renewed passion, merciful and infatuated.

My body rolls languidly, hands roaming over his burning flesh, while my tongue laps his grime covered chest; the taste is acrid and feels sticky in my throat, the coarse hair drenched in salty sweat that I swallow and mow like a starved animal in the Heavenly Garden, and oh his taste is divine, reminiscing of the Earth, the life pumping in his veins, the boiling hormones that make him so real, so human, so perfect and real under my touch. His scent is primal, raw and caustic, shooting tremors in my thighs, pheromones that make my cunt flutter and clench on the cruel emptiness of my womb. 

My hand grips his thigh, body aquiver with lust and desire, crude moans muffled in his flesh when his fingers grab my hair, pulling then pushing, unable to make up his mind; terrorized of the foreign and agonizing pleasure I give him but incapable of fighting his carnal urges. He groans, animalistic and bestial, when my teeth bite his collarbones, free hand sinking in the wooly hair of his stomach; and I feel him shiver, high pitched and strangled sobs in his throat, when my tongue, flat and balmy, licks the last drop of sweat off his pectoral muscles.

My body rolls like a snake, sensual and inviting, while my lips, burning and swollen, kiss every inch of his torso; his face turns crimson red, eyes rolled in the back of his skull, overwhelmed and inebriated. Sinking back on the floor, my intent is obvious, dragging the tip of my tongue lower, caressing the rim of his navel, drawing swirls on his lower stomach, jerking and flipping, until his strong hands stop me in a frenzy, removing his belt in a sudden fervor, a string of loud curses breaking his throat until he releases his throbbing cock, red, angry and so perfect, that he pumps viciously and with no particular rhythm, no more than a couple of times until, finally, in a broken moan, in a last tremor, his orgasm comes, devastating, cruel and overpowering; long ropes of hot cum spurting on my face, my chin, my throat, without a warning and without ceremony.

I pant heavily, fingers scooping and collecting his milky semen that I swallow greedily, my glassy eyes looking for his approval, and, dare I say, his affection. To my dismay, his gaze is panicked and distressed, body tense and eyebrows knitted in anguish. In a sudden hurry, Edward tucks his cock away and stands up, accidentally shoving me on the ground and barely muttering a quasi aphonic I’m sorry before leaving, or rather running away to his quarters, a part of the warehouse I am not allowed to penetrate.

The place is cold again, the green lights licking my pained face and turning my disappointed tears into emeralds, rolling down my face and crashing on the floor. Unfortunately, no light is colorful enough to sublime my heartache, and no trophy can fill the cruel emptiness inside of me. Edward does not leave his quarters for the rest of the night, and I go home silently.

[bi-bard]

dodie Songs That Would Describe a Relationship with Conner Kent - Conner Kent Imagine [HBO's Titans]

Title: dodie Songs That Would Describe a Relationship with Conner Kent

Pairing: Conner Kent X Reader

Word Count: 1,891 words

Warning(s): feelings of guilt, mention of human experimentation/death of a friend

Author's Note: I genuinely thought that I had already written about Conner but apparently not?? Alright then.

**Not intentionally written in chronological order**

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

Secret For the Mad

I've got a secret for the mad In a little bit of time it won't hurt so bad And I get that I don't get it But you will burn right now but then you won't regret it

If you had told me a year ago that I would be in a mostly empty tower built for a group of superheroes while I was looking over an unconscious clone of an alien, then I would have assumed you taking some kind of drug.

But here I was, spending hour after hour with Gar in the Titan Tower, watching over the clone of Superman and Lex Luthor. The rest of the team had left. Even Dick was gone at this point.

When Conner woke up, Gar and I were still on our own. I grabbed Conner some clothes and led him back to his room while Gar insisted that he could make something decent for Conner to eat and call Bruce.

I stood next to the hospital bed with a now-dressed Conner sitting on the edge.

I had nothing I could say that would help him adjust to all of this. I told him about how he ended up in the tower. I told him about Eve having to leave for a while. I told him as much as I knew.

I saw this look on his face as everything settle in. I knew that look. I had seen it so many times in the mirror. That realization that you might be completely alone. That every part of your existence was just for someone else's benefit and entertainment.

"Hey," I said, reaching out to touch his hand. "You don't have to worry about that anymore. You're here now. No more tests or experiments or any of that. We'll keep you safe from all of it."

"How," he asked.

"However, we have to," I shrugged. "Dick and the team did it for me. I know that they'll figure out how to do it for you too."

His eyebrows furrowed at me. Well shit. Walked into more questions than I wanted to.

I took a deep breath before turning my back to him. I closed my eyes and lifted up the back of my shirt. Just enough to show off the scar running up most of my spine.

"Not quite a clone, but I was an experiment."

I felt my body tense as Conner's fingers brushed my spine. Heat crawled up the length of my neck and took over my face. It was all so strange and new and... almost intimate. He was so gentle that it almost felt loving. He didn't actually know me. I didn't actually know him. Yet, here I was, showing him what was the root of my deepest insecurities, and he was treating it like a piece of art.

I had never had anyone touch the scar other than myself. And even then, I had avoided ever letting my hand brush it. Too much of a reminder of all of my pain.

"What happened," he asked quietly.

I leaned away from his touch and pulled my shirt down again as I turned to face him again. "Like I said, I was also an experiment."

His eyebrows furrowed. I let out a sigh.

"I was in a pretty serious accident," I continued. "It was all pretty much hopeless. But then, this man came to visit my parents in the hospital. He... He offered them a miracle... if they let him perform an experimental surgery. That's what the scar is from.

"And when I woke up, there was this... issue. The doctor that performed my surgery had screwed around with something and... I was left with this artificial connection to the speed force. I'm a speedster."

I didn't know how to explain it to him in a better way.

"That boy I caught," Conner said. "You were the lightning."

"Yeah... Yeah, I was," I nodded. He was talking about Jason. My best friend that I almost failed to save.

"Are there others," he asked.

"Experiments? Yes," I replied.

That seemed to comfort him. A little bit, at least.

"I just... I want you to know that you aren't alone in all of this," I continued. "Many of us are the result of someone's twisted imagination. Doesn't make us bad. It just means that we have to try a little harder to do good."

It was a sentence that Dick had used when we first met. I remembered not really believing it. I had spent too long being treated like some kind of curse to buy such a thought. But I hoped that Conner had a little more hope than I did. A cleaner slate.

"We all figure it out in the end," I said. "That's what matters."

The grin that formed on his face made even me believe the words coming out of my mouth.

Absolutely Smitten

But it's too late Oh, I believe in fate! I'm absolutely smitten, I'll never let you go

Moving in with the Titans never felt like a permanent solution. I always shrugged it off as a temporary job before I was sent back to Gotham.

But now, I felt more at home in that tower than I had ever felt anywhere else. Even with my parents.

The news reports after our missions helped encourage that feeling a lot. They would always talk about us as such a close team. Even when one of us gave a statement- usually Kory- we weren't messy pieces of a puzzle. We were one great thing.

It was nice.

There wasn't a doubt in my mind that Conner and I were the closest in the group. Especially after Jason moved back to Gotham. I still kept in contact with him. His primary tool for avoidance was now to tease me for whatever Conner and I had going on. My primary tool of avoidance was asking about Gotham. Neither one of us made much progress.

I never intended on telling Jason that he was right. However, that plan of mine forgot to factor in that I was not the only person in charge of that timeline.

Kory had been giving a statement on the last criminal we had busted.

I was bored waiting for everyone else, so I looked over at Conner. "Race you back to the tower?"

He looked at me for a moment before grinning. "You're on."

I took off running with no warning.

However, even with my head start, Conner made it to the tower long before I did. I let out an annoyed groan when I saw him waiting by the dining table.

"I was wondering when you were going to show up," he said. "Got worried that you got lost."

"Who taught you to be a smartass," I asked. He raised an eyebrow at me. "Shut up."

I went to walk away and get changed.

"Don't I get something for winning?" Conner called as I made it to the doorway leading out of the kitchen.

I stopped, spinning on my heels to look at him. "That depends... what does Superboy want as his prize?"

He took a deep breath, looking a little more nervous. "A kiss?"

I scoffed. More out of shock than anything else. "Oh..."

"You don't have to," he immediately started to backtrack. "I just... I really like you and I... I thought... well, I was told that you might feel the same way. But if you don't, that's fine. I just-"

I walked over to him as he rambled. I leaned in and pressed my lips to his. It was quick. Just a peck before I pulled away again.

"I like you too, Conner," I said. "A lot."

"Really?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Good."

"Who... Who told you that I did," I asked.

"Gar," he looked down for a moment. "He said that it was... very obvious. Then, he told me to try to be bold. Did I do that?"

"I mean... I would say so," I nodded. I decided not to tell him about my plan to fight Gar for saying I was obvious. "I... I should go get changed, but we... we're gonna talk about this."

He nodded. I waved awkwardly before going to leave the room.

It was awkward, yes, but it was just the beginning of something that meant more to me than anything else I had ever experienced.

Intertwined

Intertwined Free I've pinned each and every hope on you I hope that you don't bleed with me

I hated waking up in Gotham.

It was just a constant reminder of too much. Losing Jason, having Jason come back as Red Hood, losing Hank. It all had happened too fast. I was certain that I got whiplash from my time there.

Conner was the only comfort I had through the whole thing.

I woke up one morning with his arm wrapped around me. I was lying on my back. He was lying on his stomach, pulling me as close to him as he could. His head was resting right next to mine on the pillow. God knows that the bed we were sharing was a lot bigger than we needed.

I turned my head, looking up at the ceiling. That dreadful feeling that I had grown accustomed to was coming back.

I blinked away a wave of tears. My tiredness must have been mixing with my pain. I hadn't cried in a while.

I shook my head.

"Are you crying?"

I looked over at a now half-awake Conner. I swear some part of his powers included sensing when I was upset. He always seemed to be there are exactly the right times.

"No," I whispered back.

He frowned at me. I let out a sigh as more tears filled my eyes.

"Sorry," I muttered.

"You don't need to apologize," he said.

He moved to his side, going to pull me closer to him.

I didn't break down or sob or yell or anything. I merely hid my face in his shoulder, closed my eyes, and held onto him a little tighter.

I had talked about the weight of it all before. Conner knew every thought I had more intimately than his. My confusion, sadness, anger, and guilt surrounding Jason. He was the only person that I didn't feel like I had to hide any of it. I knew that he would never judge me for any of it.

"Can we stay here forever?" I muttered. It was so quiet that I was convinced that he didn't hear me.

"As long as you want," he mumbled back, holding me even tighter.

It was an impossibility. A half-hearted joke. But I would have done anything to let that be true. To just have time stop for a little while.

I felt a kiss get pressed to the side of my head. A quiet sigh escaped me.

I wish that a younger version of me got to feel this much love and support. I wonder how different they would have been if someone had taken a moment to hold them with no words spoken. No questions, no shushing, no guilt for not having an explanation for my feelings.

Instead of being able to voice my gratitude, I pressed a kiss to Conner's shoulder.

This was all I needed. Forever.

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

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Codywan Week 2022 Fic Rec List

Wow, there sure was a heap of works uploaded for @codywanweek this year! (approximately 140 on AO3, by my count) If you’re looking for somewhere to start browsing through all these awesome works, then please see the below list for some of my favourite fics from this year, and give them some love! 💖

Could We Start Again, Please? [2.1k] by @daughterofdungeonbat

Fic summary:

The war has ended, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Cody have become much more serious in their relationship, and they've spent the last day moving Obi-Wan's things into Cody's new apartment. All is going well, until Cody tries to lighten the mood and misses Anakin's frantic attempts to stop him. Or- Obi-Wan has an extra lightsaber. It is not his.

Fic rec: Really loved the character voices here, and the post-war set up and pay off really works well! Has some funny and great lines too

at the horizon’s edge [2.2k] by @inkformyblood

Fic summary:

The bed is larger than Obi-Wan is used to, even now, even after sleeping in it night after night since the day after the war was declared finished. They had made do for so long on the narrow GAR-issued cots or the cramped bunks on the ships that a large bed felt like an indulgence, something to mark the official beginnings of their relationship even though they wound up curled together more often than not. On the floor, beneath the cascade of blankets, Cody’s chest rises and falls beneath Obi-Wan’s hand. There is a hitch to his breathing, an unsteadiness that only grows as Obi-Wan shifts, skating his fingers up over the cool, bare expanse. (Cody has a nightmare, and some things cannot be faced alone.)

Fic rec: emotional and soft and intimate, with some great pose and interactions between codywan

setting sun [2.4k] by @milfmisspiggy

Fic summary:

"Fuck." "You may wear that word out if you aren't careful." "I'll switch it out when something else expresses my feelings better."

Fic rec: BITING AND CHEWING THIS. Absolutely lovely and hot smut with some Tatooine codywan!

Panacea [4k] by @missypup

Fic summary:

Cody has been falling for his General for two years. Two long, war filled years. But he's been able to stay in control of his feelings by just not acknowledging them. But having to share a bed with the man he's been daydreaming about for two years makes Cody so tense Obi-Wan decides to give him a massage to help out. Obi-Wan would certainly be the death of him.

Fic rec: I am always down for codywan massages and Cody getting some love and attention, and this provides in spades! There’s also some very sweet lines here that I loved a lot

Through An Artist’s Eyes [1.1k] by @yellowisharo

Fic summary

Another pass of his charcoal over the paper to emphasize the slight curve of the bottom of the ribcage, following the path Cody's eyes take over Obi-Wan's body.

Fic rec: artist!Cody my beloved! This fic is multimedia, and the art throughout the fic adds to the atmosphere and tone of the story in a great way

A Fool’s Errand [3.1k] by @itsgoldleaf

Fic summary:

“I killed you.” “You missed.” “I never miss.” “It was never you.” “This isn’t real.” “If you believe only one thing, believe that I am here and I am with you, and that this is real.” The second worst part is his rotten luck in having his General come back from being murdered and being so nice to him about it.

Fic rec: oh my god yall the way I am not kidding when I say this one drove me crazy... the PROSE the CHARACTER the INTERACTIONS the METAPHORS. This one really does have everything!!

Fear is a disease; hope is it’s only cure [9.7k] by @nimue44

Fic summary:

“The Sith has been hunting you and he hasn’t found you,” Ahsoka said. “Please keep it that way. The underground networks were hand-fed this intel, Obi-Wan. He wants you to know. He’s laying a trap.” “Of course he is, my dear,” Obi-Wan sighed. “And he’ll already know I’m coming.” “Obi-Wan, don’t, you’re safe here” Ahsoka pleaded. “Cody wouldn’t want you to walk into a trap just for him.” “No, he wouldn’t,” Obi-Wan agreed. Cody had raised an eyebrow at more than a few of Obi-Wan’s schemes in the past. Yet despite any of his reservations about a given gambit, Cody would join Obi-Wan on the front lines every time, even when he could have led from the fleet and let Obi-Wan clean up his own messes. “But I’m afraid his sound strategic reasoning hasn’t always foiled my plans to single handedly save the day.” OR: Two years into his exile on Tatooine, Obi-Wan comes across something in the desert that sets off a chain of events that may allow Obi-Wan to finally reclaim some peace. But first he'll have to rescue a purge trooper from the grips of the Empire.

Fic rec: I am just ajkhkfjg this one is SO GOOD. How Obi-Wan thinks/feels post O66 is so rich, and his refusal to let Cody go is just so everything aaaa. Great characterisation choices here alongside excellent writing.

Is there so much hate for the ones we love? [1.9k] by Xenomorphic

Fic summary:

Ben, his right hand tightly grabbing at the door handle, blinks, and the red eyes blink in unison barely two seconds later.

Fic rec: I can’t say anything about this one or it’ll spoil it - just go and dive into the mood and roll around in the choice atmosphere that is whipped up so deliciously by the author!!

Is That My Jumper [1k] by @crownprincecody

Fic summary:

Obi-Wan never thought he'd be in an established relationship. He's very glad he is. 

Fic rec: some very soft modern AU established relationship with great character voices

The Force Of Reunion [4.4k] by @wixiany

Fic summary:

Years later, on a random day, in a small town on Tatooine, Obi-Wan meets Cody again. 

Fic rec: everything I wanted from a fic set around the Kenobi series!

the memory of light [8k] by @wrennette

Fic summary:

The stormtroopers drown when Obi-Wan lets the ocean into the underwater hallway beneath Fortress Inquisitorious. PT-2224 washes out to sea. Cody surfaces from the depths.

Fic rec: Another great ‘what if?’ story that riffs off what we got in the Kenobi series. I especially loved the screen time that Cody and Reva got together in this.

The Force’s Favourite [2.7k] by @singing-stripper-pirates

Fic summary:

“How could you misplace General Kenobi's lightsaber?” Echo chided as they both crashed back into Rec Room-Leth.  “I misplaced it? I somehow remember General Skywalker asking both of us to return it.” Fives snapped back.

Fic rec: I loved this and laughed so many times throughout it! Funny, smart, and great character interaction kept me hooked throughout.

Between The Breaths Of War [3.6k] by @theedwardianone

Fic summary:

Three more days they would be staying here, hanging in orbit as they waited for the recipients of the supplies they had been tasked with delivering last-minute. Obi-Wan wasn’t going to keep his men cooped up in the ship and its endlessly recycled air while there was a perfectly good moon down there for them to relax, get some fresh air and spread their wings without having to worry about the war for a few days. They were all still so young, after all, some even younger than they should have been, so let them enjoy that youth. Soon enough it would be back to the harsh realities of war.

Fic rec: a moment of soft, established relationship codywan during the war that I really enjoyed!

The Raephens’ Gifts [8k] by @lttrsfrmlnrrgby

Fic summary:

After the end of the Empire, after seeing the remaining clones and Jedi and a rebuilding Republic to something stable and close to real peace, Obi-Wan and Cody take some time away from their duties and take a vacation on a backwater planet in Wild Space to rest and recover. They sleep a lot, catch up on the last decade's books, go for long walks, and work to enjoy just being them, instead of Generals on whose shoulders the galaxy rests.  They also make friends with some smart local birds.

Fic rec: ohhhh my god I am looking at this. The worldbuilding is an amazing backdrop for the soft codywan moments as they recover after leading the Rebellion and overthrowing the Empire together. Love, love, love.

[rotisseries]

“Watson, I simply am amazed at how thin you are.” He said; his voice like the heady plumb of pipe smoke. My eyes opened to look down at the face of a one Sherlock Holmes, my most intimate confidant! His grey green eyes gave me the most piercing once over, no doubt silently deducing my person, and what I was up to all these long years. He frowned and pulled me into a fierce hug and told me that if I ever dipped into his private stores that he would kill me. I broke our embrace with laugh and gave him a firm kiss, I would wait till morning for explanations, but for now I wanted, nay needed to touch him and for him to touch me. He continued his ministrations on my clothing as I started to do the same once I exposed enough skin I took a deep draught of scent noting that it had changed slightly, more spicy and altogether more masculine than I remember. Once done undressing, we retired to his room, him leading me by the hand all the while making an observation upon the fact that his bed was a body too small. My checks started to colour considerably at that. He shoved me down rather roughly onto his bed and pounced after me causing quite a clatter, I had hoped it did not awake Mrs. Hudson. He went about grazing his lips on almost ever surface of my body, making me tense. Also of note was that Holmes was proficient in the art of seduction, which hitherto I had thought him incapable of, knowing that he would never acknowledge his bases of desires. However giving his propensity to throw himself completely into analytical experimentation was hardly surprising.

What was surprising was that he was not unresponsive during his administrations, if the feeling of his hard cock on my stomach was any indicator of interest. As he slid the helix of my ear into his mouth I had occasioned to use his first name, which came out grizzled and husky, a clear sign of lust. I then realized how little I used his first name out loud. It was always used with his last in introductions, in a way that suggesting to the one being introduced that they were deficient in intellect at not merely knowing the man on sight or singular quality of his presence. And I quite liked how it sounded, like a secret whispered by lovers the world over.

I think you got the wrong number anon