#when I first designed Cloud i had no idea what clothes to put him in...i just kinda slapped whatever onto him

[scootarooni]

updated looks for Cloud and Comet!

[shou-jpeg]

Trick or treat! 🎃

Treat!

****

Chay pauses, empty chip packet in hand and bin lid open. He stands there, gazing down into its depths.

There is a black shirt in the bin.

It looks like one of Kim's t-shirts. Why is it in the bin?

He reaches down and pulls it out. It's clean still, the bin almost empty save for one empty yogurt container - Kim's favourite kind of breakfast.

He examines the shirt, looking for why Kim might have put it in the bin, but he finds nothing: other than a small cut in the bottom hem, the shirt looks almost new.

"Babe?" He calls, "Why is there one of your shirts in the bin?"

Kim rolls his chair back so he can look through the open home studio door. "I accidentally cut it this morning when I was cleaning my knives." He says. As if that clears up anything at all.

Chay tells him as much, holding up the shirt between them. "What? This?" He points at the little cut. "Phi why are you throwing out a shirt because of one little cut?"

Kim gives him a bewildered look. "Why would I want to wear a damaged shirt? It brings down the whole look and people would judge me."

"Judge you? P'Khun maybe, but Phi no one would even notice this little cut normally. And if it bothers you, you could just sew it up? It's so wasteful to throw away a whole shirt because of one imperfection."

Kim looks at him as if he had just suggested Kim walk about Bangkok in his underwear. "I can just buy a new one, Chay."

"You can't just drop 100 bhat on a new shirt every time you pull a thread or cut a hem, Phi."

"That shirt cost 1400 bhat."

"Fourteen hundred bhat!?" Chay yelps. That is far too much money to spend on a shirt.

"It's designer." Kim says, as if that makes the situation less insane.

"P'Kim, it doesn't even have a brand name on it."

"It's on the tag inside."

"But you can't even see the tag. Why not just buy a normal tshirt?"

"Polyester itches my skin. And I have the money, why buy cheap clothes?"

"Polyester isn't -" Chay stops himself mid sentence, taking a moment to breathe.

Kim comes from money, he reminds himself. This is hardly the first time they've clashed over something like this. If they keep going, they're not going to get anywhere, and Chay would rather not fight with his boyfriend.

"Phi," he starts, "throwing something away because of a small damage is really wasteful. There are people in the world who can't afford even a 100 bhat shirt. If you don't want it anymore, you should at least donate it to charity."

Kim looks away from him then, and Chay hates it. He hates it when Kim gets that ashamed look on his face, like there's something about himself he realises he doesn't like. He doesn't want Kim to hate himself for something he didn't even know to consider.

"How about… how about I fix it for you, Phi? I've been following these pages about visible mending and I've been dying to try some of the stitches. I could make it look really nice for you. And if you don't want to wear it out, it can be for home or when you visit me. I love seeing you wearing the stuff I make for you."

Kim still has that look on his face that Chay hates, but he also looks thoughtful and almost a little eager. He rarely says it aloud, but Chay knows that Kim really likes receiving handmade gifts from him.

"...Okay." Kim relents eventually, rolling himself back behind the wall into his studio. Chay follows after him, pressing a kiss into his hair and mumbling something sweet.

He backs off then, giving Kim some space to ruminate.

He has a project now, and he's getting a little excited the more he thinks about it. Maybe he will sew in a little leaf or two, or a flower or a little cloud. He really has been dying for an excuse to try some of these ideas. If this is going to be a thing for Kim - not wanting to wear clothes that look even slightly damaged - then Chay might have just found his canvas, as well as a way to put his mark on yet another part of Kim.

[celestiall0tus]

Tales of Bloody Bug and Chat Noir - Chapter 2 - Origins Pt2

Beginning || Previous || Next

            Alix ran up the steps into school. She stopped to rest from her run when she heard Chloe mocking Ivan. She chanced a moment to listen as Chloe called Ivan a monster and mocked him for his feelings for Mylene. Anger flared in her as she reached into her backpack for her design book when Tikki squeaked.

            “What are you doing? Are you getting into a fight? Your father reminded you not to get in any fights,” Tikki scolded.

            “Relax. I just want to remind the blonde bimbo what fear is,” Alix whispered.

            “No. It doesn’t involve you. Stay out of it.”

            Alix growled but listened to Tikki. She walked past Chloe as Marinette and the new girl, Alya, confronted Chloe on the matter. Alya attempted to get Chloe to lay off, but Chloe was quick with a comeback that shut Alya down. She sneered and stormed towards Chloe. Sabrina poked Chloe and pointed to her. Chloe’s eyes widened as fear clouded them.

            “Back at your old tricks, Chloe? Don’t you ever learn your lesson?”

            “Well… I could say the same thing about you. Weren’t you told to keep your distance if you didn’t want to be expelled?”

            Alix snorted and tossed her bag down. “I’ll gladly take expulsion if it means never seeing your horrible soccer mom clothes, lame little ponytail, and hear your annoying, privileged shrill voice cry wolf every time someone hurts your wittle feelings.”

            “You might want to watch it. One call to Daddy and your father will-,” Chloe started.

            Alix grabbed Chloe’s jacket and yanked her down so they were eye-to-eye. “Don’t you bring my dad into this, wretch. This is between you and I and we will settle it between you and I. Or do you need a reminder again?”

            Chloe winced and leaned away. Alix glared at Chloe a moment longer before she released Chloe. She grabbed her backpack, shot Chloe a nasty glare, then headed up to the classroom.

            The first bell rang, and the students headed for their classrooms. Adrien ran into the school as he spotted Chloe headed to her class.

            “Chloe!” Adrien called.

            Chloe turned and beamed. “Adrikins! You made it!”

            Adrien ran up and hugged Chloe. “It’s great to see you!”

            “Of course, it is. Come, let’s introduce you to the other peasants.”

            Chloe led Adrien to their classroom. About half the class had filed in and found their seats.

            “Here, sit in this seat in front of mine,” Chloe instructed.

            Adrien slid into the seat and looked at Nino, who sat beside him.

            “Hi. I’m Adrien.”

            Nino raised a brow. “You’re friends with Chloe?”

            “Yup.”

            “Yeah, no thanks.”

            Adrien furrowed his brow. He tilted his head as he looked over at Chloe, who was sticking her gum to Marinette’s seat.

            “Chloe, what are you doing?”

            “Teaching a lesson in respect,” Chloe answered.

            Alix snorted and slammed her book on her desk. Chloe flinched as she eyed Alix.

            “Chloe, that’s not nice,” Adrien scolded.

            Adrien moved to remove the gum as Chloe and Sabrina retreated. He struggled with the gum when he heard a loud gasp. He turned to see Marinette and Alya glaring down at him.

            “What are you doing?” Marinette demanded.

            “Nothing! I was trying to remove it. I swear,” Adrien started.

            “Likely story from Chloe’s friend,” Alya butted in.

            Adrien flinched at Alya’s words and moved away. He took his seat and glanced over as Marinette put down a napkin and sat down.

            Nino glanced over at Adrien. “Yo, why didn’t you try to tell them it was Chloe’s idea?”

            “I couldn’t do that. I’ve known her for years. She may not be perfect, but she’s my only friend.”

            Nino considered, then smiled and held out his hand. “I’m Nino. And I think it’s time you make some new friends, dude.”

            Adrien smiled and shook Nino’s hand.

            The second bell rang to signal the start of class. Mylene ran in shortly before Miss Bustier started roll call. She paused by Alix’s desk and looked at her.

            “Uh, Alix? Could I sit with you today, please?”

            Alix groaned and rolled her eyes before she scooted over. Mylene hopped into the seat beside her as roll call started. Miss Bustier got to Ivan’s name as Stoneheart crashed into the room.

            “What the fuck?” Alix screamed.

            “Language, Miss Kubdel!” Miss Bustier scolded.

            Alix deadpanned. She was about to yell out but stopped as Stoneheart advanced towards Mylene. All the students and teacher took the chance to escape, but she stayed. She jumped up on the desk between Mylene and Stoneheart.

            “Woah, Ivan, what are you doing?”

            “It’s Stoneheart, bite-size. Move or I’ll squish you like a little bug.”

            “Ivan, please, why are you doing this?” Mylene begged.

            “I’m doing this for us so we can be together. Now, move!”

            Stoneheart raised his fist. Alix dove towards the wall while Mylene tumbled closer to Stoneheart. Mylene screamed as Stoneheart grabbed her. Alix crawled behind the desks as Chloe screeched. She peeked out to see Stoneheart had grabbed Chloe too. She waited as Stoneheart crashed through the wall and left.

            Alix scrambled back to her desk and grabbed her bag. She opened it as Tikki flew up.

            “Why is Stoneheart back? I purified the Akuma, right?”

            “Yes, but he can still get akumatized again so long as his negative emotions are strong enough.”

            “So, what do I do? I can’t control his emotions.”

            “Just stop him. That’s the best you can do.”

            Alix huffed. “Fine. Alright, let’s get this over with. Tikki, spots on.”

            Alix transformed into Bloody Bug and headed out. She followed Stoneheart’s path along the rooftops. She observed him as the cavalry fired their weapons at Stoneheart, only to make him bigger. She grimaced as Stoneheart stomped through the defenses as he headed to the Eiffel Tower. She followed Stoneheart until Chat Noir joined her.

            “Looks like big and ugly is back. Same plan as before?” Chat Noir asked.

            “No. We need a different approach.”

            “Like?”

            “What was the issue yesterday? Did he tell you?”

            “Huh? Oh! He’s being bullied over his crush and being unable to tell her. I suggested finding another way to tell her, to which he came up with a song. I thought it would work, but maybe it didn’t.”

            “Or perhaps he messed that up too.”

            “How do you mess up a love song?”

            “At a guess, boy looked to be a metal head. I bet ya he wrote a sappy love song but attempted to sing it as a death metal song.”

            Chat Noir grimaced. “But metal and love don’t mix.”

            “They can, but not in the lovey, dovey overly romantic love ballad kind. Regardless, we need to figure out how to put this issue to bed.”

            “What if we helped him confess? Think he might have an easier time with back-up?”

            “Whether he does or doesn’t, he’s gonna have to like it because I don’t want to deal with this again.”

            “Alright, now how do we get to that part?”

            Bloody Bug considered and smirked. “Follow me.”

            Chat Noir tilted his head as Bloody Bug swung out. He followed her to the Eiffel Tower where Stoneheart was climbing to the top.

            “This seems oddly familiar. Wasn’t this in a movie?” Chat Noir asked.

            Bloody Bug snickered. “Well, regardless, what goes up must come down. I’ll distract him. You destroy the part of the tower he’s climbing.”

            Chat Noir grinned while Bloody Bug threw her yo-yo and snagged it on Stoneheart’s arm. She ascended the tower to the top with Stoneheart’s assistance. She stood on the railing and looked down while Chat Noir made his climb.

            “It’s over, Stoneheart. I have the high ground now,” Bloody Bug mocked.

            “Not for long. Catch!”

            Stoneheart threw Chloe in the air. Bloody Bug weighed her options of saving Chloe or letting her splat on the ground.

            “Aren’t you going to save her?” Mylene cried.

            “Hold on. I’m still thinking it over,” Bloody Bug remarked.

            Bloody Bug waited another moment when the tower turned to black rust and broke apart. She leapt off and headed for Chloe while Chat Noir kicked Stoneheart from the tower. Stoneheart flailed as he plummeted to the ground. He released Mylene and a small purple rock. Chat Noir dove, caught Mylene and the object, then springboarded off Stoneheart.

            Bloody Bug returned with a distraught Chloe as Chat Noir destroyed the object that released the Akuma. She caught and purified the butterfly before she released it.

            “Later, butterfly.”

            Bloody Bug put Chloe down as she approached Chat Noir. “Well, looks like you aren’t completely useless, fleabag.”

            Chat Noir smirked. “I’m so pleased to have your approval, Mini Bug.”

            “I will make sure you get a bath this time, fleabag.”

            “You could but shouldn’t you be playing repairman?”

            Bloody Bug opened her mouth but shut it as she glanced back at the tower. “Fine, but I’ll make it worth it. Lucky Charm!”

            Ladybugs swarmed and created a boombox. Chat Noir tilted his head as Bloody Bug played romantic music.

            “Alright, I’m not dealing with this nonsense again. C’mon, Ivan. You’ve got music. Now, tell the little lady something important.”

            Ivan’s eyes widened. He blushed and looked away. “I can’t.”

            “C’mon, Ivan. You can do it,” Chat Noir cheered.

            Ivan looked at Chat Noir, then Mylene. “Mylene… I… I like you.”

            Mylene’s eyes darted in thought before they widened. “Was all this because of me?”

            “No! Kim and Chloe just… and I felt… I’m sorry. It’s all my fault.”

            “Ivan, you shouldn’t have to apologize for how you feel. And if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s Kim and Chloe’s. They shouldn’t have bullied you over this,” Mylene said.

            “Yeah, but also, don’t bottle. They may be at fault, but you are as for your actions too, bud. Maybe find yourself an outlet or friends to talk to,” Bloody Bug remarked.

            “Yeah! Friends are amazing! Like me and Mini here,” Chat Noir mused with a purr.

            Bloody Bug growled and punched Chat Noir in the gut. He sucked in a breath as he fell to the ground.

            “Anyway, I’m done here. Congrats on telling the little lady how you feel and don’t do what I wouldn’t do,” Bloody Bug remarked.

            “Thank you,” Ivan said.

            Bloody Bug nodded, picked up the boombox, and threw it up. “Miraculous!”

            Ladybugs burst from the boombox and repaired the damage.

            “Alright, fleabag, let’s go before we transform back.”

            Chat Noir shot to his feet and bowed. “Until we meet again, Mini Bug.”

            Bloody Bug snarled as Chat Noir ran off. “Whatever. Bug out.”

~~

            Alix walked into school the next day. She tuned in and out to the students as they buzzed about the encounter yesterday. They sang their praises for their new heroes among other things that she didn’t care to listen to. She slowed in step as she passed Alya, who talked about starting a blog to document the adventures of the heroes and work to uncover their secret identities.

            Alix rolled her eyes, silently wishing Alya all the luck in the universe as she’d need it. She sighed and sat on a bench and pulled out her phone and headphones. She scrolled through her music as a shadow fell over her. She glanced up to see Ivan standing over her.

            “Can I help you?”

            “Uh, I had a question for you, Alix.”

            “Out with it then.”

            “Would you maybe want to listen to music together? I’ve heard some of what you listen to and we listen to similar stuff.”

            Alix raised a brow. “Why?”

            “Well, I thought, maybe we could be friends.”

            Alix furrowed her brow. “Why me?”

            “Well, I just figure, you know, we both are outcasts and aren’t much for talking. I honestly don’t really like it all that much. So, maybe we could be friends.”

            Alix frowned. She opened her mouth to speak but shut it as she remembered Alim’s wishes for her.

            “Alright. I will consider friends, but we start small. We’ll be music buddies and work our way up to friends. Sound good?”

            Ivan grinned and sat beside Alix. He scrolled through his music and put on a metal playlist. She sighed and listened to the music.

            A car parked outside as more students filed in. Adrien looked out the window at them. He looked away at the video call of Gabriel.

            “Look at this school, Adrien. I want you to get a good long look at the place you won’t be going to again-,” Gabriel started.

            “But, Father, please, I-,” Adrien argued.

            “Without your bodyguard. He will be picking you up and dropping you off. Nathalie has offered to manage your new schedule with school, your extracurricular activities, and photoshoots.”

            Adrien beamed as he looked at Nathalie, then Gabriel. “Thank you! Both of you.”

            Adrien ran out into school. He took a moment and spotted Nino.

            “Nino!”

            Nino turned and smiled. “Yo! What’s up, my dude?”

            “My father is letting me continue to go to school with all of you.”

            “Dude, that’s awesome!”

            Alix smirked hearing Adrien’s declaration. This was sure to make for an interesting year with the face of the Agreste brand wandering around here. Maybe it would keep Chloe occupied and Alim wouldn’t have to worry so much. Nor would she have Tikki harping at her all year.

            Alix turned her attention to the other students. Juleka, Rose, and Mylene all gathered together as Juleka and Rose fussed over Mylene. Chloe stood with Sabrina and Kim with her eyes on Adrien, who was with Nino. Marinette and Alya headed up to the class followed by Juleka, Rose, and Mylene. She raised a brow seeing Ivan remain beside her instead of joining Mylene.

            “Hey, shouldn’t you be with Mylene right now?” Alix asked.

            “Oh. Uh, we talked after the incident yesterday. She said she would need a few days before she’s ready to talk about going steady. She was still rattled after what happened, which I understand. I did choose to become that monster and even if I don’t remember what I did, I still did it. Even after all this and she decides not to date me, I’ll be alright.”

            “Will you?”

            “Yeah. And I’m not going to bottle things up like that ladybug hero suggested. Well, I’m going to try.”

            Alix smiled and stood. “Well, good for you, Ivan. And here’s hoping the best for you. Anyway, I’m heading up to class. Bell should be ringing soon. Talk to you later.”

            Alix headed up into the classroom. She paused to see Chloe and Sabrina confronting Marinette and Alya, who had taken Chloe and Sabrina’s seats. She snarled and stepped up behind Sabrina.

            “Move!”

            Sabrina screamed and fell forward into Chloe.

            “Ow! Sabrina! What is the matter with you?” Chloe screeched.

            Alix took a step forward and knelt, putting her face in Chloe’s. “You’re both in my way. Move.”

            Chloe pushed Sabrina off her as she moved out of the way. They both took a seat at the desk in the front row, in front of Alix’s desk.

            Alix smiled and moved to her seat to find Mylene there.

            “Oh, uh, hi, Alix,” Mylene said.

            “What are you doing?”

            “You wouldn’t mind if I sit with you for a few days, right?”

            “Fine, but I get the aisle seat.”

            Mylene nodded and scooted over for Alix. She took her seat as Adrien entered the room. He moved to his seat, but paused to wave at Alya and Marinette, but they gave him the cold shoulder. He sighed and took his seat with Nino.

            “Dude, you want to make friends, right?”

            “I do, but what can I do?”

            “Just be honest. You may not want to throw Chloe under the bus, but you’re going to have to tell the truth of what really happened.”

            “What if she doesn’t believe me?”

            “That’s on her then. The important thing is you did the right thing.”

            Adrien smiled. The second bell rang, and class began. A storm rolled in before the end of school. The last bell rang that released them for the day. The other students rushed out while he lingered behind. He spotted Marinette at the entrance under cover. He gripped his umbrella, took a deep breath, and approached her.

            “Hey,” Adrien said.

            Marinette looked at Adrien, then away.

            Adrien sighed and opened his umbrella. He spotted his ride but stayed. “I’m sorry for yesterday with the gum. I really was trying to remove it from your seat when Chloe put it there. I know being friends with Chloe gives you no reason to believe me, but I wanted to tell you all the same.”

            Marinette blinked and looked at Adrien.

            “It’s just, this is all new to me. I’ve never been to school before. Never had the opportunity to make real friends. But I would like to be your friend. That is if you want to as well.”

            Marinette’s eyes widened. Adrien smiled as he offered her his umbrella. She clumsily grabbed the umbrella from him as thunder rolled in the distance. She looked down at the umbrella, then at him when the umbrella closed up around her.

            Adrien gasped, then laughed.

            Marinette peeked from under the umbrella and gave an awkward laugh.

            Adrien sighed. “See you tomorrow.”

            “Huh? Oh! Uh-huh. See you tom… tomorr… tomorrow!”

            Adrien offered her one final smile then got in the car.

[purplesurveys]

1586

How are you doing today? Pretty swell. I’m on leave Monday to Wednesday without knowing Thursday is a holiday, so I’m feeling great that I only have to work Friday ;) Not having the usual feeling of doom I get on Sunday evenings is apparently enough.

What is the last song you listened to in a car? All Day by RM and Tablo. I’ve been streaming Indigo nonstop since it came out; it’s almost ridiculous how well-made the album is from start to finish. Not always do you come across a body of art that strongly translates as a labor of love - and not just love in the case of Indigo but of blood, sweat, and tears as well.

Do you like prefer apple cider warm or cold? I don’t even drink that. When did you last feel misunderstood? Haven’t felt that way in a while.

Have you ever visited The Louvre or would you like to? I’d love to but I’ve seen how crowded it can get so tbh I’d be just as fine and content going to less-populated museums.

Have you ever accidentally locked yourself out of your place of residence? Well, not by accident. But there were a handful of afternoons in grade school where I was dropped off by the bus but there had been nobody to open the door (the helper was out). It was whatever and I just hung by the carport.

Do you remember your favorite songs as a kid? Had to have been Disney soundtracks and such. I wasn’t into music until I was around 10, when I started getting into Beyoncé.

Do you currently feel calm? I am mostly calm yeah, but my stomach is being a bitch and is keeping me from feeling at my 100%. Probably from the amount of coffee I had today + the massive six-course meal I practically wolfed down at lunch.

When did you last lace up a pair of shoes? Last Friday when I wore Chucks to work.

What's your go to comfort meal? Spicy tuna salad and sushi.

Do you enjoy cloud watching? I’m not so much an observer of clouds. I prefer stars.

Do you currently have any candles lit? Nope.

If applicable, what's your favorite sports team? I don’t like watching sports.

How many cardigans do you own? I used to have this cute black one but I have no idea where it went. I last wore it December of last year then it just kinda...disappeared lol which is frustrating.

How much is too much for clothes? (I am mad at myself over purchasing a $30 cardigan lol) I actually don’t mind shelling out for clothes sometimes since you’re paying for quality. That said, the only time I’d actually react is if I see the price of some designer brands for, say, a white t-shirt that I could buy the exact same look of at some department store.

How soon do you normally decorate for holidays? The only thing we put up is a Christmas tree and we do that either late October or early November.

Are there any important things happening this week? Nah, I’m leaving work behind this week and am feeling like a free fucking woman. Only agenda on my book is to catch up on going to museums, which I’m going to start on tomorrow.

Do you know anyone who is terrified of dogs? Yes, I know a handful of people who are.

What scent was the last soap you used? Just the plain/basic smell of soap. How old were you when you made your first big purchase? I was 23 when I bought my current phone. I will put up the disclaimer that my dad’s credit card was initially used to make the transaction haha but I pay him every two weeks, so it’s technically under my expense still.

What last made you angry? Just a bunch of drivers and pedestrians being stupid during our drive up to Antipolo earlier.

What's a color you think is underrated? Idk if there’s any I would call that.

What are you usually doing when midnight comes around and you can't sleep? Watch YouTube videos or play In the Seom until my eyelids start feeling heavy.

What is your favorite way to eat rice? (white, steamed, fried, brown, sweetened...) Steamed and white.  What color is the top you're wearing? Red with white print.

When did you last laugh so hard you cried? Lmfao, last night. My dad had been retelling a HILARIOUS story to my sister (which he had already shared with me that morning), and since I knew how the story was gonna go I ended up in stitches while he was talking, which made him laugh too. Then we’d both try to calm down, he’d start talking again, I’d laugh again, he’d laugh too, and that entire bit just happened like five more times until I had tears running down my eyes. Poor sister literally never got to hear the end of the story because at the end of it all the entire dining table was just laughing too.

What's your favorite horror movie? The Shining.

What's your favorite and least favorite fast food restaurant? Favorite would be McDonald’s, Jollibee, and KFC. Least fave is Burger King...I don’t hate their food but the menu is just a little boring. It’s my least favorite only in the way that it’d never really be my first choice.

How many pictures can you see in the room you're in? No pictures here in the dining room.

When did you last sign your signature? Last Tuesday.

What cover do you think is better than the original song? Paramore’s cover of Drake’s Passionfruit.

Are you currently listening to music? Yeah dude. Indigo.

What do your favorite pair of pajamas look like? It has a purple checkers pattern; and instead of pajama pants, the bottoms are shorts. The top is free-size so it looks a bit big – but cozy – on me.

What is something you've been working on? Being a better and a more patient leader. And improving on task delegation. Still focused on work after all this time, seriously? Hahaha.

What's something that excites you about the future? Growing and learning through the experiences I’ll inevitably be gaining. I don’t wanna mount big expectations on my shoulders, so for me making the most of what I have and where I am is enough for now.

How often do you drink smoothies? Never.

What's a TV show you have gotten into recently? I started watching The Golden Girls last night and the first couple of episodes were hilarious.

Have you ever had to have a tooth cut out? Uhhh not cut out but pulled out, yeah. I’ve had that happen twice.

When did you last rush for something? Last Friday when I, to nobody’s surprise, waited for the last possible minute to get up before work.

How many blankets do you own? Three.

Have you drank enough water today? Sure.

Do you prefer apple pie or pecan pie? Not much of a pie person but if I had those two choices right in front me I’d head towards the pecan one in a heartbeat. What color takes up most of your wardrobe? Black.

What makes you feel alive? Accomplishing something, making people smile, being around my friends, getting strength from Bangtan.

Who is your last missed call from? Can’t remember. I usually pick up my calls now though since they could always be related to work and I don’t want anyone ending up complaining about me.

Do you have any unusual pet peeves? Picky eaters.

What is a food you think is nasty that most people enjoy? Grapes.

Would you rather never be sick again or be rich? Be rich.

[sirensmojo]

"Crossroads" - Michael Gray x Reader

Warnings: Big fluff.

Summary: You visit Michael in the hospital for the first time in years after his departure from your village.

*Masterlist*

A/N: this is my first Michael Gray fic, plz take that into consideration...

“There’s a girl asking to see you, Sir.” The nurse informed Michael, “Do you accept the visit?”

“Who is it?” His eyes lifted up from the white bedsheet he was staring at, blankly.

“A certain Y/N.”

At the announcement of your name, his dull eyes lightened up, but it didn’t last. His mind suddenly got clouded with the hundreds of questions he usually was asking himself when alone.

Were you alright? Did you get out of town as you promised each other, were you still visiting his “mother” on Wednesday's afternoons, were you angry at him for leaving you?

“Yeah, let her in.” His answer was full of apprehension, making the nurse unsure of letting you in. She stayed there watching as the man shifted position, trying to get comfortable as he knew your reunion wouldn’t be easy. “I said let her in,” Michael squinted his eyes at the nurse seeing she was still there, and that’s when she got out.

He exhaled deeply, mentally preparing himself but he couldn’t escape the tremendous flow of emotions washing over him.

You were his first love, the first girl he ever saw as a woman, even if you were still quite young. He just couldn't ignore the way he felt when he used to be with you, even after all this time, even after going out with other girls, your face never left him.

“Michael.” You hesitantly entered, unsure of the fact coming in here was a good idea.

You were in town for quite long now, but never took the time to search for him. Not because you didn't care, it was the opposite.

He had never kept from you his wish to leave your little village and you thought that maybe having you in his life now wouldn't bring him anything but memories of a place he wanted to forget.

But as the time passed, you realized you couldn't get him out your mind, no matter how hard you tried. No matter what you did, it all came back to him in the end.

His smile, laugh, touch and love, you missed everything.

You knew very well the Peaky Blinders, just like every Birmingham residents, and you knew he was one of them.

You used to tease him back then about him leaving the village after burning it or something, and here you were, him being part of a gang. This couldn't fit your Michael best.

He was a very intelligent, talented, kind and good person, but you always knew that deep down, this tranquillity was hiding a darker side, a deeper meaning of who he was.

It wasn't a surprise at all for you when you heard about his new life, you were even quite happy that he could express himself and evolve in a favourable environment.

He seemed preoccupied with something but his eyebrows unknitted at the sight of your face.

Your finger waved curls were perfectly falling on each side of your head, and Michael’s eyes were falling over your olive designed dress, tassels falling right under your knees.

He always loved this green on you, and that only hit you now.

The aggressively sexy green dress you told him you would, one day, wear in the streets so everybody could be shocked and talk about how a woman should dress.

If you remembered this detail this morning you wouldn’t have come in this dress. Now, Michael was looking at you with those gleaming eyes and you knew that when his eyes will lift up to yours, you’ll find in them the same sparks behind his iris as when you were younger.

Maybe coming in here truly was a bad idea.

“Y/N,” he kept a stern face but you were reading him like a book. His hands were clammy, his jaw clenched, his shoulders tensed along with all his muscles.

You could see he was as nervous as you, and you also knew that if you could read him that easily he probably could do the same with you.

Michael was sitting on his bed straight like an “I”, and that’s only when you sat at his side that he leaned backwards on his pillows.

That idea of knowing each other despite time and distance was what helped you to breathe out the air you didn't realize you were holding, leaving your chest less heavy.

You didn’t dare to stay in his eyes, too occupied searching for your cigarettes anyway. You got one out of their case and handed it to the man that was shamelessly staring at you.

“You changed.” Were his first words, and you couldn’t blame him.

Michael grabbed the cigarette and stuck it in between his fine lips before you came lightening up the tip of it for him.

When he left you were still growing up, rough look and only wearing the elegant blue pants your mother accepted you to wear. You were obsessed with pants and used to always argue about the fact women couldn’t wear them.

“Not a bit, and you haven’t either.” You teased him. It was obvious he changed, even the way he was talking was different, and you couldn’t even imagine what else in him had changed if the external changes were that evident.

His eyes drifted to you once again, what a surprise it was for him to see you dressed up as you were with your high heels.

Men have looked at you before, but the way Michael laid eyes on you was different, you found fondness in it, perhaps love? Because after all, there was still love between you, right?

Else his chest wouldn't raise that quickly and he wouldn't flutter his eyes when you would catch him staring at you.

He chuckled and offered you a warm smile before puffing on his cig. He got lost in thoughts for a moment, doing the french inhale.

Nevertheless, Michael seemed so much more distant than what you remember. Either he was staring, either he was blanking looking into the void.

He never talked too much either, but presently his silence could kill you. You just wanted to feel his hands all over you again, but you couldn't jump on him as if your story happened yesterday.

The atmosphere tensed, “I knew you would start smoking.” You let out in a huff. “Mrs Johnson was so wrong about you, it wasn’t me corrupting you, you always had it in your blood.” You concluded, the words escaping from your mouth as you were failing to stop them.

You got a cig for yourself and Michael watched you carefully, following each of your movements as if you were to disappear in a cloud of smoke if he’d just blinked.

“No,” He clenched his jaw and shook his head as his eyes darkened, "I found it here."

"Find you?"

He nodded slightly as puffing on his cig. 'You don't ask why I'm here?" He raised a brow towards you.

"I read the news, you're a peaky boy now." You winked at him.

"It's not what you think, Y/N." He was chuckling, shaking his head to both sides.

"Well, my Micheal wearing suits and being part of a dirty business, that's what I think and that's what it is. And that's sexy." You were so concentrated imagining him in his suit you didn't realize you called him yours, but Gray noticed it, which led to his lips stretching into a smile.

"I knew you were about to tell it." He flicks his fingers, looking at you with squinting eyes.

You took advantage of that exchange to look at his face, examining each of his features and internalizing everything you missed during these years apart.

"You're sexy Michael, deal with it already." You stated outright.

You always liked that about him. He wasn’t talking much, not with his words at least, but his eyes bore enough emotions by themselves. If they could talk they would spill hundreds of words on the paper with no difficulty.

"Yeah? Well, I prefer when you tell that in other circumstances."

His words echoed in your head and you didn't know if he was making a sexual reference or if he just woke up the horny you.

You tilted your head to the side a second, puffing on your cig before the tip of your fingers instantly reached for his soft skin. You were rubbing the side of his face gently with your knuckles when you remembered something.

“I left the village over a year after you, my mother died and I just couldn’t stay there, you know.” Talking was your way of coping with the fact you were reunited with your teenage love.

“I’m sorry.” His facial expression changed, he now understood why you were here. Not that he was unhappy about your visit, but he wouldn't have thought you’d ever leave this village.

“Everything I know is there” was the answer you gave him every time he encouraged you to go to the cities to try to make a living out of clothing. London, Birmingham, whatever, as long as you would be able to be who you wanted to be, and live your passion fully.

You wanted to make clothes and Michael had always been your number one fan, solely because he was the only one to see the gorgeous dresses you were sewing, but still your number one fan.

“I’m currently working to be able to own my workshop. So everything’s fine.”

He peeked at your lips while you were doing the french inhale, but ended up staring at your lips as if they were mesmerizing him.

You ignored that as well as you ignored all the signs he still felt things for you since you came into his room.

“Michael, the reason for my visit is family. I Know you found your biological mother and all, but you got another family out there, right?” You got up and joined the table to crush your cigarette into the ashtray, a vain attempt to prepare you for what you were about to announce. “Mr Johnson’s gone... I heard he died in his own bed.”

You threw him a glance, you wanted to know what he was thinking at this moment because his face was unreadable. Even though you knew him more than he knew himself, you grew apart from each other, and here was standing in front of you, a version of Michael you did not know.

He was blankly looking at the void in front of him, fisted clenched around the sheets.

You got closer to him, putting down the ashtray on the nightstand and sat down at his side again, but this time you slipped one of your hands into his as your other one, slowly turned his head towards you, so you could look at him in the eyes.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered as you were nearing your face to his.

It’s when you felt a little squeeze on your hand that you completely dared to give yourself to him, leaning a slow kiss over his lips.

You then pulled away, but before you could go anywhere, you felt his free hand at the back of your head, pulling you closer for another kiss, this one being feverish.

Of course, he was still loving you. It couldn’t be any different.

His hand shifted from your head to your cheek, his thumb rubbing it softly. His tender fondles contrasted perfectly with the roughness of his kisses. They became needier and needier, as if he waited to do this for a long time.

You both finally let go of the other’s lips when your lungs were screaming for air, your lids directly opening into the other’s eyes.

Here we go again, that twinkling light dancing at the back of his deep blue eyes.

“Something actually changed there,” You caressed his lips with your index, “I didn’t remember your lips tasting this way, neither you being that much of a good kisser.” Your suave voice murmured inches away from him.

You were so close you could feel his warm breath against the sensitive skin of your lips.

“Well, teach me.” His voice aroused something inside of you, and you found yourself squeezing your thighs together.

PEAKY BLINDERS TAG: @retromafia

(ask me if you want to get in one of the tag lists)

[warmblanketwhump]

unexpected (villain x sidekick)

inspired by this incredible prompt from @ive-got-whumperflies

“Target has been captured and is en route.”

Villain couldn’t help the smile that crept into their cheeks. Finally, finally, they’d be another step closer to taking down Hero. Get to their beloved Sidekick, rough them up a bit, and get all the intel they needed. They might even be able to lure Hero to their headquarters for a futile rescue attempt - oh, it was just too much to hope for.

“Target has arrived,” the muffled voice said over the comms system.

“Bring them up. I want to say a few words before sending them down.” Over the years, Villain had realized that there was nothing quite as wonderful as holding all the cards and seeing someone's face when they realized it.

The door buzzed, and a body was roughly shoved through the door and fell to the ground. Villain stood from their desk and came to where Sidekick lay on the ground. They had their speech all planned out: a hint at the torture that awaited them, a couple threatening jabs designed to really break their spirit, and then a last chance to turn on Hero and divulge their plans before–

But Villain's plans were shattered when Sidekick shot up from their prone position on the floor, wrapped their arms tightly around Villain's legs, and began weeping inconsolably. Villain could barely make out the words, but when they did, their jaw dropped.

thank you, thank you, oh god thank you –

This blubbering went on for a minute or so, and Villain marinated in the sheer awkwardness of...whatever this was, which was most certainly not what they'd planned for.

"Alright. Sidekick. Calm down." Villain patted their head stiffly and pried Sidekick's grateful arms off of their legs, now sore from how tightly Sidekick was clinging to them. They deposited their captive on a nearby chair, and there, Villain could size up who they were up against and what they could inflict.

But from the looks of things, Villain had - quite literally - been beaten to the punch.

Sidekick's face sported a black eye, a split lip, and several nasty-looking scrapes and gashes. Their usually spotless outfit was torn and dirty, and Villain could see bruises on their exposed skin. Sidekick clutched their left wrist to their chest and shook uncontrollably - whether from fear or the over-air conditioned room, Villain couldn’t tell.

"Did my associates do this to you?” Probably from the struggle of the capture - they made a mental note to berate their lackeys for disobeying them yet again. “I told them not to touch you before you had a chance to turn–"

Sidekick shook their head earnestly. Well. Not Henchman, then.

And there was more to this scene that unsettled Villain. The uniform hung loosely on Sidekick's thin frame, and Villain could see the hollowness in their drawn, pale face. And there was something about their demeanor – cowering in a chair, not quite meeting Villain's eyes, that was so different from the defiant fireball they'd met in their previous clashes with Hero. Villain frowned. Something wasn’t right.

"Then who did this to you?" Sidekick seemed frozen. They opened their mouth, but no words came out. "Is there another Villain I need to watch out for?"

Sidekick nodded - yes. Their eyes filled with fear, and Villain felt something in their heart clench. They were no saint, but they'd never seen someone so afraid. The truth was, they really only loved to torment the defiant ones, the arrogant ones who refused to admit that they could break like anyone else. But this one – this one was already broken. And there was just no joy to be found in that.

Villain knelt before Sidekick, whose tears began slipping from their eyes in earnest.

"Sidekick. Who did this?"

Sidekick released a shuddering sigh. "Hero," they whispered. voice cracking.

Villain's head spun. No....it couldn’t be.

Couldn't it?

Hero. The one who'd mocked them endlessly when they were children, making fun of their clothes, their hair, their unconventional ideas.

Hero. The one who cheated them out of the coveted top spot at the local training school all those years ago .

Hero. The bright, shining example that the city worshipped while Villain slunk in the shadows and did their business in a less...conventional manner.

Hero. The one that everyone trusted, loved, revered, when only Villain knew the truth.

“Hero did this to you?”

Sidekick nodded, and the tears came freely. They told their tale - how they’d accidentally come across some of Hero's shady dealings and thought it was a mistake. But when they’d confronted Hero, Hero had turned on them - told Sidekick they were being irrational, unfair, judgmental, that they didn’t understand what it took to have the weight of the city on their shoulders, all but confirming that it wasn’t a mistake at all. Sidekick had been heartbroken, and set out to redeem the mentor they idolized.

For months, they'd tried to help hide what Hero was doing. Siphoning money from dark places, putting their friends in power and defaming good, honest people who stood in their way. Hiding behind a perfect smile while manipulating everyone around them into perfect submission. Sidekick fought every day to try and redeem the good person they though they knew, but it was no use - that person didn't exist.

But the worst came when Sidekick tried to leave - and Hero wouldn't let them. Villain swallowed hard as Sidekick described what happened - nights, starving, alone, and locked in a cold cell. Dangerous missions where Hero forced Sidekick into danger, only to rescue them at the last possible moment. “Trainings” that lasted for hours and left them bloody and bruised. All from the person Sidekick had looked up to. And if they said a word, it was Sidekick's family who would pay the price.

Until Villain came, swooped in, and stole them from a situation that they couldn’t see any other way out of.

“So...now I’m here.” Sidekick met Villain’s eyes warily, cheeks slightly reddening with embarrassment. “And I guess...you’re gonna hurt me too. But I never would have gotten out of there without you. And at least now, my family's safe. So...thank you.”

Villain had never felt this before - the quiet gratitude of someone who’s life they’d accidentally made better. The ache of sympathy for the thin, shaky waif in front of him, who had nowhere else to turn. No, this was very new. And terrifying. And it felt...good.

"No."

Sidekick’s eyes clouded with confusion at Villain's sudden outburst. “What...what do you mean?”

“I’m not gonna hurt you.” Villain met Sidekick’s eyes, feeling like a fire was being stoked in their gut. "I'm gonna take Hero down. Once and for all. Will you help me?"

Sidekick met their eyes and nodded, a new understanding filling them with a light Villain never thought would return.

Villain buzzed their comms system, and Henchman answered with a grunt. “You want me to come in and get started?”

Villain cleared their throat. “There’s been a change in plans. I have some...new intel. Bring up some soup, a couple blankets, and a first aid kit. Sidekick and I have a few things to talk about.”

[inviouswriting]

Love so sweet it’s angelic

Simeon x fem!reader

Mostly fluff. with a splash of light smut.

You and Simeon spent more time together, following the time the Little demons being kids. You find yourself smiling around Simeon more, and it is one of those nights that lead to alot more than just innocent laughs and cuddling while in his arms. 

What was one night meant more and in between times you could find for yourselves. Being almost inseparable to the angel, enough time to pass that the mild blessing of life is granted to you. You found out when Beelzebub noticed your scent had changed.

You brush it off for now, until you started to feel tender in places. Small moments of nausea that made you run out to see if you can find a pregnancy test. You took it immediately in the bathroom to Hell’s Kitchen, and waited for the results. Finding it better before the brothers or perhaps Simeon could chance on you.

When it showed positive, you sit down with a sigh. You know who, and now you run through ways to tell him this news. Will he take it well? You saw him with the child-like demons. You already know him to be a good father figure, but how will he take it from you being with his child.

You seek out Asmodeus, swearing him to secrecy or you would steal his favorite make up palette collection and give it to Mammon. Asmodeus goes over ideas with you, and you find one in a small cake design. Luke’s birthday coming up was a good way to hide it. So you set about gathering things.

The day of was spent making Luke feel great and happy, but it wasn’t until the evening when it is just you and Simeon.

You sit with Simeon in the living room, Solomon returning to his room to get rest after using alot of magic that evening. You decide it was the right time to give something to Simeon.

You tug a special gift from your bag that survived the chaos of the day, and hand it to Simeon who looks at you.

“Isn’t this for Luke?” He holds it, it is mug shaped, and you wait for him to open it.

“For you.” You wait with your head resting on your hands, watching him open this gift eying you here and there with curiosity. Inside the gift is a mug, but with small booties tucked inside. He tugs them out and looks them over then to you.

“These are cute, they’ll make a nice ornament somewhere.” It doesn’t click for him yet, and you clear your throat. You take the little booties from him and put one on each of your fingers and walk them along his arm.

“Or maybe we can use them later in a few months.” Simeon is confused and tries to count out what months and remembers December is coming up.

“Oh, you mean for Christmas or the Devildom equivalent?” Oh you love this angel, but sometimes the obliviousness. You quietly bap his nose with one of the booties. He looks at you when you don’t answer his question. You watch the confusion in those blue eyes ebb off and into realization, before his eyes go wide with shock.

“You really mean to use them? You mean.. I mean... you are? We are?” You smile at him and nod. He almost drops the mug, he didn’t even look at it and glances down to read the wording around it. 

“Dad.” It reads and he sets it down before he could drop it and pulls you into his arms. You yelp and feel cool hands slipping underneath your shirt to your belly.

You wriggle when his fingers press over trying to sense life and you press your forehead to his. He meets you and presses a kiss to your lips. He’s on cloud nine and you feel nuzzling as he pushes you to lay on the couch underneath him. 

Simeon has his eyes closed as he settles to lay his head on your belly kissing it tender. A sight you never thought you’d behold is the halo that forms or seeing his wings pop out.

A first you see of him and he looks so serene as he attempts to sense the life within you and his eyes purely shine with love for you everytime he glances up to your face.

“This is truly a blessed gift... one I will love endlessly, like I love you.” You roam your hands through the dark brown hair ruffling it underneath the halo. Simeon raises his head into the rub and scoots up over you.

“May I love you? Now?” You see the flush over his face, and he begins to lift you into his arms to take you to his room. He folds his wings behind him to walk through the hallway. You think it over, and nod to let him show his love his way.

Once inside you barely felt clothes shed, with how much he kisses you, and makes you feel like you are floating with him. You feel warmth run through you as Simeon lays you on the bed and begins to work with you to please and show his thanks.

You hold his hand as he kisses you everywhere, his mouth finding that sweet spot between your legs. You marvel at the blush that crosses his face when you suck on him and even use your breasts to squeeze him. 

You trade pleasure, from him burying his tongue deep into you, while you suck on him till you taste his seed on your tongue. All leading to where Simeon tugs you underneath and loves you so sweetly and tender that you burst into tears at how soft his love is for you.

He kisses every tear that streams, and you feel him whisper words in your ear about how much he looks forward to being with you eternally. You squeeze his hand when you are closer, and whimper his name under a breath when you release. Simeon pushes through you tightening around him and hugs you to him, while he spills into you with a moan of your name. 

Simeon curls his wings around you cocooning you in them letting you lay on the soft feathers as he stays connected to you for a while. His hands rubbing your belly again, he can’t wait to see you swell with the life, and him able to feel the gentle kicks against his palms and face.

“My little lamb.. you are so dear to me. You both are.” He settles after he pulls from you, with his face resting on your stomach and you comb through his hair as his wings disappear from sight but the halo remains. You wouldn’t trade the sight before you of him so contently happy ever for anything else in the world.

[loveislattes]

Everything Comes at a Price (Demon!Dark/Fem!Reader) Chapter 2

You can find Chapter 1 here!

Commission prompt: Reader is really depressed, and Dark decides to roughly Fuck the depression out of them.

Important: Reader has female pronouns and is a vagina owner!

Warnings (For this chapter specifically): Depression, talks of death, smut, dom/sub, rough sex, Demon!Dark, demon-like anatomy, shadow tentacles, oral (male receiving), very minor breath play, teasing, pet names, dirty talk, minor degradation, praise kink, unprotected sex, primal/power play, and multiple orgasms!

A/N: Other than the kink warnings, this one is safe to read! No gore/death. No beta- there may be a few errors.

As always, if you would like to support me, I have a Ko-Fi (here) for donations and I usually have a few slots open for commissions (unless life gets in the way)!

Tags: (If you want to be tagged in my writing, just let me know!)

@when-the-sun-goes-dark

@underthedark13

@fruitypieq

@another-thirsty-blog

@hcrystal02

@just-a-little-bat

“You’re sure? The doctor is sure?” you questioned earnestly.

“Yes! Yes! They say it’s like some kind of miracle. They expect her to make a full recovery after some physical therapy. Isn’t it great, Y/N?!”

You could feel your lips twist up into a bittersweet smile as tears poured from your clenched eyes. The taste of salt was bitter on your lips as you nodded asininely into the phone.

“Yeah, that’s- that’s amazing,” you whispered, “Listen, auntie, I’ve got to get ready for work but please keep me updated if anything changes.”

The phone fell into the fluffy blankets across your lap and you let out the choked sob that you’d been holding back. Wish number four had been a success. You’d done some actual good with your imminent death.

Despite the good news, the oppressive cloud around you didn’t dissipate; Unsurprising but disappointing nonetheless.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you hissed, smacking your cheeks a couple of times.

Suddenly, a terribly wonderfully awful idea popped up and there was a modicum of relief in your chest. You snagged up the coin from its perch on the bedside table and clutched it to your chest close.

“Dark, I think I know my last wish. Is it possible to wish for death?”

There was no immediate answer, nor did you die immediately. A tremor in the atmosphere of the room was the only sign that something had changed and you brought your head up in surprise. The sight of the debonair demon standing amongst your depression room instantly filled you with shame. Great. Just what you needed to be added to your already heaping pile of negative emotions.

“Hello, darling.”

You managed a weak little hello in reply as he began to stroll your way. You weren’t sure whether you should stand up to greet him or just allow him to come to you, but he quickly made that decision for you as he came to a stop at your side.

“I regret to inform you that you’ve managed to find one of the three types of wishes I’m unable to grant. Is there something els-”

“Please, Dark!”

He leveled you with narrowed eyes and stated factually, “I can’t kill you. Killing you negates the contract. That includes putting you in any imminently dangerous situations, so don’t try it.”

Finally, you found the power to stand and glared up at him through tears.

“Can’t you break the rules, just this once?! I give you permission to keep my soul after I die if you do it! I just- I can’t take this anymore! Maybe you don’t understand it because you all Mr. Powerful Demon but I’m so fucking tired. I’m tired of being alone! I’m tired of hurting when there’s literally nothing wrong! I’m tired of not being able to do a damn thing to make it better or change anything or- or-”

You fell into a messy pile of limbs and blankets on the bed, wrapping yourself up as best as possible, sobbing into your hands to keep a modicum of your dignity intact. Much to your surprise, you felt fingers brush against your hair as sharp nails began to massage through your strands.

“I must say, you’re definitely one of my more interesting clients,” he hummed lowly, “Even so, I’m unable to bend the rules, even for you. There’s a lot at play here that you’ll never understand but the short of it is that even I do not play with Death’s dealings, darling.”

As he spoke, you could feel the first peek of daylight glimmering through the shadows of your mind. Whether it was from his odd praise or the sensations his fingers were provoking, you weren’t sure, but it was nice. Ever so slowly, you found yourself leaning into his touch, chasing the dopamine rush he provided.

He let out a humored chuckle as you nearly fell off the bed in the pursuit and you could only manage a subdued apology in reply.

“Don’t apologize for being adorable, pet,” he teased.

Cheeks warming harshly under the sudden pet name, you buried your face in your hands and groaned slightly.

“Now that that’s sorted, I will leave you be. When you’re ready to make your last wish, you know how to reach me.”

There was a strange catch in his voice that you couldn’t quite place but it was enough to put you into action.

“Wait!” you called out when he turned away.

Carefully wiping the tears from your face, you stood up and took a steadying breath before reaching out to him. It was such a simple request but you could see the curiosity and confusion plain on his face. Nonetheless, he took your hand and allowed you to pull him in close. It had been so long since you’d even held someone else’s hand. More of the demons in the back of your mind were backing down, the sudden influx of serotonin of skin-to-skin contact turning them away.

“Okay, I get it, you can’t kill me,” you murmured, licking your lips nervously, “But you said you find me… interesting, right? Erm, do you think you would be able to do something else for me instead?”

It was like you had flipped a switch, the way his eyes clouded over with the devious smirk that curled up his lips and how his head tipped to the side in obvious inquiry.

“I’ll need you to be more clear on what you’re asking for, pretty little pet,” he cajoled, “It would be quite remiss of me to act without being completely sure what you want from me.”

Oh, the asshole! He was going to make you say it out loud! It was obvious in his gaze that he knew he had all the power here, in every sense of the word, and he was using it to his advantage… and you couldn’t deny that you loved it.

Face hot with mortification, you chewed on your lower lip before whispering, “I- I can’t. I can’t ask.”

Fangs peeked out in a grin as he leaned down, tipping your head up until you were nose to nose with him.

“Do you want me to kiss you? Touch you? Fuck you?”

Gods, he made it sound so dirty, so sensual. Shivers rolled through your bones as he teased the apex of your jaw and throat with his sharp claws.

“I need to know.”

You gathered every last drop of confidence and finally stammered out, “Fu-Fuck me, please?”

“With pleasure, darling,” he hummed softly, “But first…”

Fingers tangled in your locks once more, jerking your head back and his mouth slammed against yours. A choked sob passed from your mouth to his as he guided you back onto the bed, following with the grace and ease only an inhuman being could manage.

“If it gets too intense, just tell me to stop,” he breathed out as his lips fell to your jaw, “It’s been some time since I’ve allowed myself to indulge with a human and you are just so damn breakable.”

A sick thrill shot through your body at the warning. Why did a part of you want that? It was terrifying, thinking of a demon losing themselves and going feral on you, and yet it sounded so deliciously taboo.

“Okay,” you finally replied when you realized he was waiting for an answer, “I will.”

“Good girl.”

Oh. OH. It felt like all the air left your lungs and you couldn’t stop the tiny little noise that escaped your lips in embarrassment and desire.

His lips curved up against your throat as they slowly moved. Nibbles and kisses blazed a path up the sensitive column of your neck until teeth toyed with your ear lobe and he let out a little chuckle.

“You are going to be so much fun, pet.”

Your hands found his hair and held on for dear life as his fangs dug into your neck; not deep enough to draw blood but rough enough to tear a pained scream from your lips. Throbbing agony blossomed through your skin and still, you found your body arching into his, silently eager for more of what he could give you. Oh and the endorphin rush! The moment he released your abused flesh, it was like your body was on fire.

Moving without thought, you guided him by the hair into a frantic kiss, hoping to convey your need without words. Thankfully he didn’t seem offended by your little takeover of power and allowed you to soak in all you needed until he finally put a stop to it with a nibble on your lower lip.

“Enough, it’s time to prove that you really want this, darling,” Dark purred as his fingers dug into your cheeks symbolically.

You nodded the best you could and followed his lead as he pulled you to your feet. With a snap of his fingers, suddenly his clothes were gone and you were left staring at him in awe. While he looked incredible in the suit, it did a complete disservice to the glorious form hidden beneath. Black tattooed tendrils encircled his arms and legs, tapering out somewhere on his back, creating the most tantalizing contrast of shades against his toned limbs as he flexed them teasingly.

As your eyes traced the designs down his solid form, he suddenly gripped your shoulders and pushed you down onto your knees, tossing one of your pillows down after.

“If you’re going to worship me in such a way, you might as well do it from in your rightful place on your knees,” he purred.

Lips parting in surprise, you felt your insides curl up with embarrassment as you slipped the pillow under your knees and nearly apologized, but then he was stepping closer and you lost all thought.

Fuck, was he ever right; It was akin to staring up at a god! Not only were you given the best view of his body, but the way he stared down at you with desire and complete superiority had you trembling with need.

“Now, show me what that pretty mouth can do, pet.”

Oh, that, that you could do. Scooting in closer, you reached out to grab his cock but your hand was smacked away instantly. It stung more than hurt but it was surprising nonetheless.

“What-”

“Hands behind your back,” he demanded.

Cautiously, you did as he asked and were rewarded with a much softer smile.

“Good girl.”

Those words again. It was like they had a direct line to your cunt. Clenching needily around nothing, you let out a soft whine and let him pull you back in. As his cock neared your lips, you were finally given the chance to look it over closely. Despite being only half-hard, he appeared average length and a bit thicker than most you’d encountered. It was also darker than the rest of his skin but what set it apart the most was the ridges encircling it. Every inch or so down his cock were these ridges, smooth but creating quite an obvious size difference.

As you pondered over the way it would feel inside you, you let your tongue tentatively trace the tip and moaned at the familiar taste. He let out an encouraging sigh and tightened his hold, subtly pulling you closer until you threw away hesitation and took him in your mouth as far as possible.

“Mmmm, that’s it pet,” he praised huskily, “Get me ready to fuck you.”

Clenching your thighs in hopes of relief, you shifted higher onto your knees and followed the pace he set. Another difference you began to notice was the massive vein on the underside of his cock, the way it throbbed against your tongue with every swipe quickly became an addicting sensation. It was like his body was praising your efforts in its own way.

“Take a breath,” he warned.

You barely got a lungful in before he arched into your face, hastily fighting back the urge to gag as he slid into your throat. Tears welled up in your eyes as saliva pooled in your mouth. You were mortified as both spilled out the instant he began to fuck your mouth. Embarrassing noises escaped your throat, far beyond your control with each thrust of his cock, but it didn’t seem to bother him one bit.

“Look at you,” he rumbled out huskily, “What a good little pet you are, swallowing my cock like you were made for it.”

As suddenly as he had started he stopped, releasing his hold on you so fast you nearly toppled over as you coughed for breath.

“Impressive, now get up here.”

Once you felt you were stable enough, you climbed to your feet with his assistance and were immediately thrown back on the bed. As your skin rubbed against the cool sheets, you were suddenly made aware of your lack of clothes.

He apparently sensed the shock in your expression and offered you a sly grin.

“What can I say, pet? There are some things I am impatient over.”

Dark kneeled on the bed and gripped your ankles, spreading your legs so he could easily fit between them. Rather than climb over you as you had expected, he instead traced gentle lines up and down your legs, slowly bit by bit growing closer and closer to your cunt but never actually touching. It was maddening. You could feel yourself quaking and twitching uncontrollably under every pass of his claws; your silent pleas coming out louder and louder each time until you were nearly sobbing with need. Teeth soon joined in the effort, searing bite marks into the meaty parts of your thighs while his tongue lavished the wounds fondly after.

“I haven’t even touched you and you’re dripping wet for me,” he groaned quietly as he traced the crease between your sex and thigh, “Imagine what a mess you’ll be once I’m finally inside you.”

Desperation tore from your chest in the form of a whimper at the mental images burning in your mind. Your heart nearly flipped on itself in pleasure as he finally moved up the bed.

“You look like you’re struggling, darling,” he teased, “Is there something you need?”

You nodded frantically and whimpered out, “Please!”

Tantalizing shocks ran through your core as his fingers oh-so-tenderly ran over your lips, ghosting just where you needed him the most. Frustration began to well up like the sweat beading your forehead and you couldn’t help the huff that escaped.

“Tell me that you need to be used,” he breathed, ghosting sharp canines along your throat, “And I’ll give you what you want.”

“I- I need to be used,” you gasped out.

His responding moan was pure ecstasy as his fingers finally found your clit; the way his cock twitched again your leg an overwhelming aphrodisiac. The scrape of his facial hair prickled against your chest as his head ducked down and his lips pressed chaste kisses along your breasts. Swallowing hard, you bit back the overwhelming urge to demand him for more and were rewarded with the gratifying sensation of his tongue across your nipple. Pain and pleasure coalesced into one as he mercilessly sucked and bit into your flesh, drawing louder and faster moans from your chest by the second. When he finally pulled off with a pop, your entire body felt the bombardment of endorphins.

“And who do you want to use you?”

Pride shone through his playful teasing as you attempted and failed to whimper his name multiple times, ruined over and over again with each pass over your clit.

“Hmm? I can’t seem to understand you. Who do you want to ruin you?”

Thighs shaking and heart pounding, you fought through the onslaught of pleasure coiling in your belly to gasp out, “You, Dark! Please, fuck- fuck me!”

It was too much, not enough: The ache in your throat, the rawness of your lips, the imprints of his teeth burned in your flesh, the throb of your cunt under his fingers.

When he finally slipped his fingers in your core, you cried out. Relief! It didn’t take more than a few seconds for his stretching and thrusting to put you right on the edge of no return. Unfortunately, he jerked away before you could fall and, before you could even complain, you were tossed over onto your stomach with a sharp slap to your right cheek.

“Perk that pretty ass up for me, pet,” he demanded, gently guiding your hips up.

As you came to rest on your knees, you let your face rest on the pillow and arched your back until you could feel his cock brush against your cunt. Instinctively you pushed back against him with a little moan and were immediately rewarded with fingers to your clit.

But… his hands were on your hips…

“How-?”

When you stilled in thought, he let out a husky chuckle behind you.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he crooned lowly, “Sometimes they just have a mind of their own.”

Lifting up just enough to peek under your body, you were both startled and aroused to find black shadow-like tentacles where you expected fingers to be, and in turn, his legs were now free of those pretty tattoos. Realization hit hard and a pathetic moan fled your lips as you buried your face in the pillow.

“Glad to see you approve, darling.”

In the next breath, he slammed forward and yanked you back simultaneously. You were immensely grateful that he had taken the time to prep you as he sunk in, inch by inch, stretching you open like none ever had before. A wicked thrill sent a tremor through your body as you realized you could feel each and every ridge as it pushed into you.

When his hips finally came to a stop against yours, the noise he let out had your hair standing on end. Animalistic, inhuman, primal. You wanted to hear it time and time again.

He finally started rocking his hips, taking his time with deliciously languid strokes, until you begged him for more. It was with a cruel laugh that he gave into your desires.

“Oh fuck!” you whined, fingers snarling in the blankets for balance.

There was no more hesitation in his movements, gentleness abandoned in exchange for all-out fucking you in a way that made your toes curl and tears fill your eyes.

“You are so fucking wet,” he snarled out between breaths, “Taking me so well.”

A noise of agreement escaped your lips as you arched back to meet his thrusts. You couldn’t form words even if you wanted to, too focused on the raging storm brewing in your core.

Pain blossomed through your hip as one of his hands squeezed tighter, his growls and panting growing in volume to rival your cries, while the other found your hair and yanked your head back. Your body reacted instinctively, clenching down hard around him and startling a moan from you both.

“You feel so good! You going to come for me, pet?”

Reaching back, your hand found his and your nails found purchase, returning a sliver of the savage pain he bestowed upon you. All the while you bounced back harder on his cock, chasing the edge that was just out of reach. The tendrils between your thighs suddenly came back to life once more, their cool touch contrasting so perfectly with the heat of your bodies as they swirled around your clit in time with his thrusts.

“A-Ah! Dark, yes, pleeaaasse! Fuck- Fuck!”

“That’s it. That’s my good girl. Come for me and let me claim you, pet.

As if mimicking the hold on your hip, another tendril slithered up your back and encircled your throat. The unexpected pressure elicited a tantalizing response, your body suddenly feeling both free and trapped in the best of ways as he bound you to him

“Mine. All mine. My filthy little slutty human whore.”

Something in your psyche broke at those words and ecstasy rushed forward like a tidal wave. Every inch of your body trembled with pleasure as you screamed his name, voice cracking under the duress of it all. You could feel the proof of your indulgence dripping down your inner thighs, the sounds of your debauched pleasure growing louder with every slap of his hips against yours.

“Fucking hell!” Dark bit out harshly, “Good girl. Good fucking slut. Who do you belong to?! Say it!”

“You! Only you, Dark! O-Ooh, f-ffu-fuck!”

With inhuman speed, he slammed into you, over and over until the smack of your bodies was almost continuous. His choked roar filtered through your senses but it was was easily washed away with your second climax teetering on the edge. There was a sudden torrential shift of energy, pulsing eerie screeches filling the room as his voice echoed off the walls when he finally buried himself as far as possible inside of you. Any pain was quickly washed away by the thunderous roll of pleasure brought on by the touch of his tendrils mixed with the throb of his cock releasing deep in your cunt. Claws trailed down your spine as he practically purred your name, leaving behind five raw lines that stung under the combined sweat of your bodies, and somehow you found yourself okay with it; loved it, in fact, knowing that his marks would be on you for quite some time.

Quaking with bliss and exhaustion, you collapsed to the bed the instant he slipped out of your core and let out a little delighted whimper. You reached out blindly for him and were appeased when he laid down beside you, pulling you against him so your face was resting on his chest.

“I didn’t realize how much I needed that,” you murmured, fingers tracing up and down the little scar in his abdomen, “It goes without saying but that was fucking phenomenal, so thank you.”

Your head bobbed up and down with his laughter and you couldn’t help the grin that turned up your lips in return.

“I have to say I’m in agreement, pet,” he hummed back, “It’s been far too long since I’ve been able to let go in such a way.”

With a hand on your bicep and the arm under your head, he pulled you up and shifted you over his hips until you were perched on quaking knees. You almost questioned him but were silenced when he leaned up and captured your lips in a stinging kiss. It started out rough and slowly devolved into a passionate tangle of tongues.

It wasn’t until he pulled back for a breath that the reality of what was to happen started to sink in; the serotonin in your veins being replaced with anxiety.

“So, does this mean I die now? You have to take my soul, right?” you asked softly, “Since I made my last wish?”

“Hmm? I never heard you make a wish, pet,” he replied as he stretched back languidly.

Eyebrows furrowing, you let your confused expression convey your thoughts as one of his hands began to travel down your curves.

“But I asked-”

Your words were cut off by your own gasp when you felt his cock rising between your thighs. Wide-eyed and warm-faced, you gaped at him in shock. Apparently, a very short cool down period was also a demon perk?!

He smirked at your awe as a thumb traced your lower lip seductively.

“You asked and I gave freely,” he explained, fingers dipping to trace sharp claws along your throat, “You still have one wish remaining. Although, I’d suggest you save it for later. I feel like we have much more important things to attend at the moment, darling.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Associates - Part 4 - ao3, pt 1, pt 2, pt 3

There was a loud bird outside Lan Xichen’s window.

This was primarily notable because Lan Xichen’s window was currently set with an array designed to support his seclusion, designed to block out the noises of the outside world. As a result, the bird in question must have deliberately broken through several high-level arrays set down by Lan Wangji’s ancestors in order to make a racket outside his window.

It also didn’t sound much like a bird.

Lan Xichen was staring at his wall as the bird shifted from tweeting sounds to whistling to, eventually, a tired-sounding voice mournfully saying, “Tweet. Tweet. Shit. Tweet.”

Lan Xichen was not laughing.

He was in seclusion. It was one of the most sacred rituals of his sect – one of the most serious, the most respected. His own father…

No, he couldn’t even finish that thought.

With a resigned sigh, Lan Xichen stood up and went to the window, where the ‘bird’ had taken to mumbling curses more than anything else.

He opened it a very small crack.

“Nie Huaisang,” he said. “Go away.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the ‘bird’ said. “I’m a bird.”

Lan Xichen was not laughing.

Nie Huaisang had ruined his life. He was not – it wasn’t –

Okay, it was a little funny.

(Lan Xichen had always had an excessive sense of humor, finding all sorts of things funny. His uncle had been mystified by it, telling him that it would eventually get him into trouble, and in the end, he’d been right, hadn’t he?)

“Very eloquent for a bird,” he remarked, and did not smile when Nie Huaisang cursed, although it was a close thing. “You can go away now.”

“Listen,” Nie Huaisang said. “I don’t need you to forgive me or anything, but you cannot miss Lan Wangji’s wedding.”

Lan Xichen had been reaching for the windowsill, but his fingers stopped in mid-air.

Lan Wangji’s…wedding.

He’d thought – he’d assumed –

“I know, I would have thought they’d be long since married! They were being idiots and pining from a distance, apparently,” Nie Huaisang said, correctly reading Lan Xichen’s thoughts. “They’re finally getting around to it, though, and if you’re not there, Lan Zhan will bite me.”

Lan Xichen pressed his lips together.

“He will. Don’t you remember what a bite-y little brat he was as a child?” A mournful sigh. “He’s gotten back in the habit, it seems. Whether through letters to others or even in person, if you want to judge by the state of Wei-xiong’s neck…”

Lan Xichen involuntarily snorted.

“Anyway, the main point I’m making is: they’re getting married. It’s going to happen soon. You have to attend, or else Lan Zhan will never forgive me, and obviously that’s more important than anything else.”

There was really no need for Nie Huaisang to engaged in these sorts of dramatics, Lan Xichen thought. It wasn’t as if there was any chance of Lan Xichen underestimating him ever again.

Did that mean that, just maybe, this sort of behavior really was what Nie Huaisang was like? That the overdramatic little shithead (there was really no other way to put it) that Lan Xichen had liked so much over the years was still there – that it hadn’t all been a lie, the way Jin Guangyao’s façade of kindness and compassion had been?

“Well? Can I confirm that you’re coming?”

“I’m in seclusion, Nie Huaisang,” Lan Xichen said, and he felt tired all of a sudden. Seclusion, and Nie Huaisang knew why. What he’d done…

“Uh, no you’re not. Not sure if you’ve noticed, but you’re talking to me, aren’t you? Seclusion broken. Problem solved!”

Some cruel god or goddess must have been behind making Nie Huaisang so funny, and Lan Xichen so susceptible to exactly that type of humor.

“That’s not how that works and you know it.”

There was a moment of silence.

Lan Xichen thought to himself that if Nie Huaisang said ‘I don’t know’ in response to that, he really would break seclusion but it would be for the sole purpose of hitting him, and then he’d never agree to see him again in this life.

Luckily, that was not what Nie Huaisang chose to say.

“Listen,” he said, and his tone was no longer exaggerated or emotional but simple and straightforward – the Nie sect way of things, as Lan Xichen was abruptly and painfully reminded. Nie Mingjue had been like that, too. “I’m not expecting any miracles here. I don’t see this as a way to make up with you or get your forgiveness; I don’t think that you’ll suddenly feel better once you’ve come out of seclusion or that you’ll see the light and stop being upset all at once. All I’m saying is…this is your brother. This is the rest of his life, his lifetime happiness, his marriage. Are you really going to pick yourself over him for this, too?”

Lan Xichen had to put his hand on the wall to stop himself from staggering. Whoever thought that Nie Huaisang didn’t know how to stab a man had only ever seen him on the practice field, he thought; they had never seen him in conversation, where his words were sharper and more accurate than any saber.

He wasn’t – he didn’t mean to be selfish, to be picking himself. He didn’t want to do to Lan Wangji what his father had done to their uncle, trapping him in the Cloud Recesses and a million obligations he’d never wanted, even though Lan Wangji was coming to the work far older than either Lan Xichen or Lan Qiren had done.

On the contrary, he had retreated because he knew he could not trust himself. If his judgment was so bad that he had permitted – not only permitted, but in his willful blindness all but endorsed – so many of Jin Guangyao’s vile actions…if he had then turned his hand so quickly against Jin Guangyao once he had learned the truth…Lan Xichen had demonstrated that he lacked either principles of honor or of friendship, and given all that, how could he trust his judgment going forward? Wouldn’t it be better for all of them if he just wasn’t there -?

“If you’re really all that set on mourning san-ge, I’m not going to stop you,” Nie Huaisang said. “But I’m asking you to reconsider, for Lan Zhan’s sake.”

Lan Xichen froze. “You think I’m in here mourning?”

“Why else?” Nie Huaisang’s voice was still ruthlessly practical. His brother’s voice, and as much as he had loved Nie Mingjue in life, suddenly Lan Xichen hated hearing it from Nie Huaisang’s mouth. “You picked him over the rest of us a million times over when he was alive; what’s this seclusion of yours anything other than picking him over us again?”

Lan Xichen didn’t even realize what he intended to do until he was already moving: going away from the window and to the door, opening it and stepping outside – breaking seclusion in truth, the way a few words through a window were insufficient to do – and walking around over to where Nie Huaisang was sitting with his back against the hanshi wall.

“How dare you,” he said, and Nie Huaisang looked up at him, startled. “That’s not it at all.”

Nie Huaisang wasn’t playing with a fan, for once, and looking down at him, sitting there in the dirt and mud in his sect leader’s clothes, Lan Xichen thought he looked small.

Not – pathetic, the way that he’d come to secretly think of him in his heart of hearts these past few years. Just small.

Young. Tired.

Like the lost little boy he’d been when he’d first come to the Cloud Recesses, all those years ago; the one who had inadvertently gotten Lan Wangji to return to himself after their mother’s death, all unknowing – Nie Huaisang hadn’t ever realized that Lan Wangji hadn’t merely been quiet back then but truly mute, nor that the first word he had said since the announcement of the death of their mother over two years before had been a long-suffering “Please” in response to Nie Huaisang’s childish demand that Lan Wangji mind his manners when asking him to pass the salt. By the time Nie Huaisang had been there a month, Lan Wangji had bitten three children and four adults for having said something rude about his new friend, rather than standing there staring at them vacantly the way he had in the past, and Lan Xichen thought he’d never seen his uncle happier about a violation of the rules.

Nie Huaisang looked like the boy who’d nearly paced a hole into the floor during the war, worrying about his brother and pestering Lan Xichen about Lan Wangji very nearly as much, if not more – his brother he’d worried about in an abstract way, in his not-so-secret belief that Nie Mingjue was truly immortal, but Lan Wangji was ‘just a kid’, in his words, as if he himself weren’t a year younger.

He looked like the boy whose heart had shattered into a thousand pieces upon the realization that his brother – the immortal, the all-powerful – was really gone.

“I killed him,” Lan Xichen said, staring down at Nie Huaisang. “Don’t you understand? I killed him.”

“I know,” Nie Huaisang said, the opposite of all his ‘I don’t know’s over the years. “I was there, remember? In the temple – I saw you do it, it was my fault, I instigated –”

“Not Jin Guangyao,” Lan Xichen said. “Nie Mingjue.”

Nie Huaisang fell silent.

“I had them for about the same amount of time, you know,” Lan Xichen said. “Nearly two decades: Mingjue-xiong throughout my childhood, and A-Yao my adulthood, and I killed them both. How can I live with that?”

“I don’t know,” Nie Huaisang said, and his voice was bitter. “For once, for real, I really don’t know. But it’s been over a year. Surely you’ve had time to figure some of that out?”

Lan Xichen hadn’t realized that it had been so longer. It had been forever in there, and also no time at all.

“Do you know,” Nie Huaisang said abruptly, “that right after it all happened, Wei Wuxian said to me ‘don’t associate with evil’?”

Lan Xichen blinked, and then he processed it and stared. “Wei Wuxian said that to you? Wei Wuxian?”

And Wangji accepted it? He wanted to ask. Did Lan Wangji agree with him – did he think that you were too far gone to be saved, that it wasn’t worth associating with you any longer? Your crimes were all in pursuit of justice, and mine done blindly, and yet if he can’t bring himself to forgive you, what hope do I have?

“Lan Zhan has been helping me fend off challenges to my position,” Nie Huaisang said. “And Wei Wuxian apologized for what he said, eventually. He said that he trusted Lan Zhan’s judgment, and if he didn’t think of me as evil, then as far as he was concerned, I wasn’t.”

That seemed like a fairly good standard to use, actually.

“Lan Zhan doesn’t think you’re evil, either,” Nie Huaisang said, and pulled his knees up to his chest. “Even if you don’t trust yourself, why not trust him?”

“…is that what you did?” Lan Xichen asked, and his throat felt sore. All that speaking for the first time in months was wearing on him.

“Yes,” Nie Huaisang said plainly. “After everything I did to avenge da-ge, I’d started to think of myself as willing to do anything, heedless of the collateral damage, another person just like san-ge – a smile to your face and a knife to your back. I still think that, sometimes. But every time I do, I just remind myself that that’s not the sort of person Lan Wangji, Hanguang-jun, would be friends with, and that means it can’t be me. You see?”

Lan Xichen did.

He did see.

He reached up and wiped at his eyes with his sleeve – his eyes had started flowing with tears at some point, he wasn’t sure when. “I’ll come out,” he whispered. “I’ll go to the wedding. I’ll help with – with everything, even if it will take me time. I promise.”

“Good,” Nie Huaisang said, and suddenly smiled up at him, bright and cheerful as a bird once more. “Because I’m serious, you have no idea, he will bite us both –”

Lan Xichen felt a laugh bubbling in his chest and thought that, with time, that he might even be able to let it out.

[espressokiri]

If I could, could I request Class 1-A’s with a water quirk who loves mermaids?

Class 1A x GN!Reader

In which Class 1A deals with a classmate who loves mermaids.

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff

a/n: These are so cute to write about plz <3

(Y/n) (L/n) has always had a fascination with what was hidden underneath the ocean, it could be the result of their quirk being related to water or just the child-like wonder never leaving them. Growing up they would watch The Little Mermaid on repeat and sigh dreamily at the thought of having a tail like hers. They learnt how to draw in order to create themselves as a mermaid in fictional form, perhaps they could even send in a similar design for when U.A. asks for hero suit designs. 

That is exactly what happened. Despite not having fins for legs on the regular for their costume, there was a resemblance of flow like material that would glimmer like scales. They also garnered mini seashells strapped around their waist like a belt.

“Pft! What are you? Holder of seashells or something?” Bakugou cackled and (Y/n) glared at him, spraying him with water and directly aiming for his open mouth. 

Bakugou sputtered and coughed out the liquid before attempting to charge at them with his quirk engaged, (Y/n) simply sucked out all the sweat he was generating for his quirk with a flick of their wrist, leaving him useless. “What the hell?!”

“Whoa thats so cool! (Y/n) can basically turn Bakugou quirkless!” Denki clasped his hands in amusement as Kirishima and Sero had to restrain him from physically attacking the water bender.

Midoriya was in the cornering jotting down the useful information about them that he had witnessed.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

“Tsu-chan! Tsu-chan let’s pretend we’re mermaids!” (Y/n) exclaimed as they dragged Asui to the U.A. pool. The girls had rented it out for a day before the training camp and invited (Y/n) along because they all found them adorable, the girls had basically adopted them.

(Y/n) was gifted a swimming tail by Hatsume Mei, who had tinkered with the idea of a mermaid suit for them. Once they put it on as trial, (Y/n) could not stop the joyful tears from flowing as they pulled Mei into a crushing hug, thanking her profusely for making their dream come true.

As of now they finally got to try it on for use. To say it wasn’t hard to maneuver in at first would be a lie, but with the help of Asui they finally got the hang of it and felt like they were on cloud nine.

Breathing under water was not a problem as a water quirk user, it made it all the more real. The water was a safe place and they knew if ever they wanted some time to think, away from the loud noises and to clear their mind in general, the water would welcome them with open arms.

“Wow (Y/n)-chan, you look like a real mermaid!” Hagakure squealed as she watched the tail appear and disappear in the water, “you really do look the part.” Jirou commented, a slight blush at the beauty before her.

“Our precious (Y/n)! Here I thought you couldn’t get any cuter.” Mina huffed, trying to take pictures of the moment. 

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

(Y/n) was at the bottom of the pool in U.A.

They were laying down on the floor of the pool, watching the lights above reflect the water. Fully clothed in their U.A. uniform, as they could just pull the water away from them to dry instantly, with their backpack the only thing on the pools edge.

They were trying to think of a special move to progress in their class, it seemed like there was a mental block preventing them from creating any train of thought for the class. Maybe a nap would help?

A sudden splash into the pool pulled them out their light slumber as a hand gripped their arm and pulled them to the surface, “what the hell?!” (Y/n) exclaimed, pulling themselves away from the perpetrator. “I just saved your ass! Is this the thanks I get?!”

They looked at Bakugou with irritation as they calmed their breathing, “saved me from what exactly?”

“From drowning, dumbass! What were you even thinking?!”

A stagnant silence.

(Y/n) snorted before bursting out into laughter, angering the blonde even further. “You think dying is funny?! Wait till I drown you myself!”

“Bakugou, what’s my quirk?” (Y/n) wheezed, trying to calm themselves down.

“What kind of question is that? Water manipulation, idiot.”

“Exactly.”

They both had a stare-down. (Y/n) with a hand on their mouth to hide the small giggles slipping out and watching Bakugou’s face morph from anger to embarrassment as he realized.

“No one must know of this.”

Cue (Y/n) planning to blackmail him.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Training camp was as tough as Aizawa said it would be. 

The students were worked to the bone, being sucked dry of their youth and filled with soreness and pain from the excessive use of their quirks. To think (Y/n) thought they would have it easier since Aizawa had basically thrown them into the nearby lake to practice water pressure and surface tension.

They tried taking a breather for a minute but a stick would be shoved through the water and whack them on the head for doing so. Aizawa had eyes the eyes of a hawk, despite his constant dry eye, and they felt sorry for whoever ends up being his child.

Once they were sure their teacher had left his focus on them to pay attention to the rest of the class, they decided to close their eyes for a brief second. The peace was soon disrupted.

A shot of white tape wrapped around their waist and they were yanked out of the lake and onto the broad shoulders of Sero. “Look what I caught! A mermaid, huh? You’d sell for a decent price.” He chuckled.

“Only decent? Wow okay, my ego’s been bruised.” (Y/n) scoffed, dangling limply on his shoulder despite feeling their stomach bruise from the impact. “Working on making your tape waterproof?”

“Mhm, and I nailed it!”

“That you did. Now carry me properly to dinner while I nap as punishment for disrupting the one time I got away with sleeping.”

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

When the Big Three were introduced in class, (Y/n) couldn’t help but gaze with sparkles in their eyes at the indigo haired male with elf-like ears. Oh how they were imagining a fairytale themed photoshoot or outing, which was inappropriate as he was a third year and they doubt he would befriend them after observing his timid and shy nature. 

But a mermaid must not leave an opportunity behind.

“Tamaki-senpai!”

The male froze in his steps, shoulders stiff and posture hunched as he trembled and turned towards the voice. (Y/n) approached him with a grin, hands behind their back as they were fidgeting in place.

“Y-yes?” His gaze was on the floor, avoiding eye contact with the first-year.

Nejire and Mirio had glanced at each other before nodding their head in agreement to eavesdrop on the conversation. 

“I just wanted to say that you look so pretty! Like something out of a fairytale! I love fairytales, especially mermaids and I have a suit with a mermaid’s tail since I have a water quirk and stuff.” (Y/n) glanced at Mirio and Nejire and waved at them cheerfully. 

Tamaki on the other hand had gotten red in the face at the compliment and became a stuttering mess, that’s when Nejire and Mirio decided to jump in, both very happy at the thought of talking to the cheerful student in front of them.

“He’s a bit shy so don’t mind him! You’re so precious! You look like a mermaid too, so gorgeous!” Nejire complimented and pulled at their cheek as (Y/n)’s eyes twinkled at seeing Nejire in a new light.

“H-Hado-senpai, you look like a fairy!” (Y/n) was in awe of how pretty she was, she was literally sparkling. 

Mirio was chuckling in the background, “looks like we’re all like fairytales in one way huh?”

Nejire gasped and clapped her hands together, “a photoshoot dressed like that would be so cute! Don’t you think Mirio?”

“Hado-senpai I was thinking the same!”

[k-s-morgan]

What He Grows to Be: Snippet 5

Thank you to everyone who expressed their preference over what they’d prefer to see in the snippet! Tom watching Harry’s memories about the Chamber of Secrets got the most votes, so here is the draft version of it. Though since it’s almost 4K long, maybe calling it a snippet isn’t appropriate :D 

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

Talking through a diary was an interesting idea. Tom wasn’t sure what kind of magic this was, but now that he’d seen it, he could figure it out. He and Harry would be able to have immediate conversations instead of relying on letters or Patronuses.

Then again, considering what this diary had led to, perhaps this wasn’t a good idea. The last thing Tom wanted was to add himself into Harry’s collection of negative associations in one more way.

He didn’t see how Harry had managed to get into the Chamber of Secrets. One moment, he was staring at the bloody inscription on the wall; the next one, he was standing in an entirely new vast space. Tom still had no idea where it was located or how to access it.

His heart sank in disappointment, but when the full implications hit him, it stopped entirely.

Harry had excluded this memory on purpose. He didn’t trust Tom with the knowledge of where the Chamber was. He showed him the core events but not the details because his trust and his faith were already gone by that point.

And the ritual made it even worse.  

An uncomfortable itchy heat began to radiate from Tom’s chest. The sensation was entirely unfamiliar, so he pressed his palm against it, confused and hoping to squash it down.

He couldn’t name it, but it felt a little like shame. He’d never experienced it to this extent before, and it was never mixed with this kind of almost desperate hurt.

He’d been trying. For years, he’d been trying to be someone Harry would approve of. The craving, the longing for his acceptance stayed his hand so many times that now Tom couldn’t count them all — he even allowed that scum Morfin to blackmail him, no matter how maddeningly outrageous the whole situation was, simply because he refused to risk Harry finding out.

He’d made mistakes, but they were minimal in comparison to what he would have done if he hadn’t been trying. And yet Harry still didn’t trust him.

The shame began to curl away, giving way to dejection. Loneliness suddenly felt sharp and uncompromising, and Tom wrapped his hands around himself, watching how Harry’s head snapped up.      

“She won’t wake,” a voice said. It was soft but cold, so it took a moment for Tom to recognise it. His eyes quickly moved towards one of the pillars, and something in him shuddered from what he saw.

It was like watching his reflection in someone else’s dream. Something was wrong with the boy he was looking at, and it wasn’t just about the fact that his physical contours were blurred, as if he was being held together by magic alone.

No, he was simply different. He didn’t have the splendour Tom prided himself on. He was thinner and hollow-cheeked; his clothes, while neat, came from some cheap store Tom would have never stepped into. He was but a shadow with empty vicious eyes and greed that swarmed around him in a cloud — greed Tom wasn’t sure he could relate to.

He longed for things. He longed for Harry. But even from here, he could read the shallowness and the arrogance written all over his twin’s face, and he didn’t like it one bit.

This wasn’t him. This was Tom Riddle. Someone he could have been.

“Are you a ghost?” Harry asked. He was staring at Riddle with such earnestness, like he trusted him entirely and couldn’t see what a hollow shell he was. This was the first time Tom would disappoint him — the first in a long line of failures and betrayals.

“No,” Tom murmured to himself, shaking his head briefly. He couldn’t keep blurring himself and Riddle — that way madness lied. Despite some superficial similarities, they were completely different people. He might have let Harry down, too, but their story was different. This abomination was dead and could never touch it.

“A memory,” Riddle replied. His voice was quiet, but its sinister and bitter undertones were as loud as shouting. “Preserved in a diary for fifty years.”

Tom’s brows furrowed. What? A memory? That must have been some ritual. Why would he condemn himself to this kind of existence? To give Voldemort more power? Maybe Voldemort had managed to subdue his will and make him into a brainless soldier somehow. This was more plausible than any version of him feeling such loyalty to some monster that he would follow him blindly and sacrifice his life force for him.

How did one become a memory in the first place? Even Tom with his knowledge about all possible forms of dark arts couldn’t figure it out.

Riddle burst into an animated, mostly one-sided conversation, and several minutes later, Tom had to admit that listening to his own voice was surprisingly challenging. Riddle’s arrogance was distorting his words; his excitement over successfully breaking an 11-year-old girl was embarrassing — Tom had felt less enthusiastic when he killed Charlus, and that happened back when he was a child himself. His first impression had been accurate: Riddle was worlds away from him. He was stupid, and Tom would have never believed it if he wasn’t witnessing it with his own eyes.  

“I have been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here,” Riddle said pleasantly. His eyes were fixed on Harry in an intense, hungry way — and well, they did have something in common, after all. “I knew you’d come. I have many questions for you, Harry Potter.”

“Like what?” Harry spat angrily. He didn’t look intimidated in the slightest — his anger and righteousness made him appear taller, and his blazing eyes were furious enough to stop anyone in their tracks.

“How is it that you, a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent, managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time?” Riddle wondered. The pleasant notes were disappearing again under the piles of bitterness and odd envy. “How did you escape with nothing but a scar while Lord Voldemort’s powers were destroyed?”

By the end of it, a red gleam entered his eyes. It looked unnatural enough for Tom to make an instinctive step towards Harry.

This was unnerving. Magic was one thing, but what would turn his eyes — Riddle’s eyes — red? Humans couldn’t do that, it went against all laws of nature. Unless… Unless Riddle wasn’t human.

If so, what was he?

“Why do you care how I escaped?” Harry asked slowly. His own gaze was narrowed in a dawning realisation that Tom couldn’t decipher. Did Harry have a theory? How could he — he was only twelve. “Voldemort was after your time.”

Riddle smirked at him, looking almost giddy, and Tom had to amend his opinion. This impostor wasn’t simply stupid, he was crazy. He grew excited over irrelevant things and reacted inappropriately to every logical question Harry asked.

“Voldemort,” he uttered, “is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter.”

Pulling a wand out of his pocket, he slashed the air with it, writing three rapid words.

Tom Marvolo Riddle

Tom studied them, his stare lingering on “Marvolo.” Something about it stood out. Something was strangely familiar.

Before he could follow the clues, Riddle waved the wand again, rearranging the letters. The syllables shifted and clung to each other briefly before assuming their designated places.

I Am Lord Voldemort

His mind went utterly blank. Time stopped. The existence of the world lost its meaning. Tom stared at these words, re-reading them again, and again, and again.

I Am Lord Voldemort.

Tom Riddle. Voldemort.

He was Voldemort.

He was Voldemort. All this time, he was watching himself, and he didn’t even realise this.

The bottom dropped out of his stomach. Tom recoiled from the damning words so violently that he lost his balance and collapsed onto the wet floor. His body didn’t feel the impact — it couldn’t, he didn’t even have it here, but it still burned, it still groaned and shuddered, as if the weight of his mind and his feelings was too much for it to bear.

“It can’t be,” he tried to speak. No words reached his ears, so he did it again. “It’s not possible. I’m not him.”

Still nothing.

Acid burned at the back of his throat. His stomach contorted in pained shock, and then the terrible screaming something filled his ears, crawling in them until it was the only sound they could perceive. It was violent and shredding — it echoed in his very bones.

He was Voldemort. All along, he was Voldemort. He’d killed Harry’s parents. He tried to kill Harry. He made so many Horcruxes that he had gone insane, losing his mind along with his powers, losing the respect of his followers, leaving only fear in its place.

He wasn’t the right hand of Harry’s nemesis. He was his nemesis. Harry had spent his entire first life hating and fearing him — he had single-handedly ruined Harry’s existence so thoroughly that Harry was forced to escape into the past. To accept guardianship over someone who tortured and destroyed him.

An icy fist closed around his lungs, clawing and squeezing the remains of air out of them. Tom gasped, his body jerking in odd abrupt movements that he had no control over. The next second, the contours of the Chamber of Secrets faded, melting back into Harry’s bedroom. The phantoms of the past were gone — they stayed trapped in the Pensieve, but their terrible echoes remained with Tom. They latched onto his mind with hungry vengeance, throwing an image after an image of the pictures he had seen when he was first watching Harry’s memories.  

It didn’t matter then. Those pictures were just that — the images of a monster he didn’t know and had no direct relationship with. But recalling them now and putting his own face onto them…

His mind rebelled. Tom pressed his hands to his ears, trying to silence the screaming, but it kept getting louder. It hurled accusations and mockeries, painted every crime he committed, every time he hurt Harry and raised his wand against him.

There was no silencing something like this. The only thing Tom could do was outcry it, so he screamed, too.

He found that he couldn’t stop.

***

That night, he added just one sentence to his letter.

Why would you love me?

*** 

The sleep didn’t come. The desire to tear into his skin and shred it until physical pain remained the only sensation was strong, but every time Tom raised his wand or his hands, he stopped.

He wanted to hurt himself. He didn’t want to hurt Harry.

It was easier before. In Harry’s absence, for a long time, he’d been putting his own hurt above everything, even above Harry himself; he’d marred his skin without care, wanting, needing acknowledgement.

But he couldn’t do it now. The thought of leaving even a small scratch on Harry made him sick.

That cursed ritual.

Tom managed to stay physically intact throughout the night, yet he spent it curled into a tight ball, shaking under the pressure of ache and grief and emotions he couldn’t identify. There were so many of them — they were crowding his chest, interfering with his heart, making him feel like he was about to explode with them.

When the morning came and nothing changed, Tom made himself get up. He cooked breakfast, then stared at it silently, knowing that he could never eat it without vomiting it back.

He needed… something. Something comforting. Harry wouldn’t return; Harry’s blanket and things no longer produced the same soothing effect, so it had to be something new.  

If he could capture Harry’s Patronus into some vial… if he could consume the letters Harry had written him…

The letters. He still had the letters. They were the last thing he’d gotten from Harry — they had his personality, his handwriting; they had a whole part of him because Tom could easily trace the story of their creation. From the pressure Harry had applied to a quill in different instances, it was evident where he hesitated, where he took a break, where he got anxious or passionate. It was the closest thing to him Tom had in his possession now.

Without thinking further, he returned to the bedroom and grabbed the last letter. His eyes immediately zeroed in on three specific half-lines.

…I’m going to keep explaining until you do.

…I’ve promised you’ll always be my priority.

…I might consider returning.

A promise of future communication.

The use of future tense.

Future possibility.

This was evidence. Whatever Tom was, Harry didn’t give up on him. Harry still loved him. He might still return.

Tom closed his eyes, nuzzling into the letter, and finally, for the first time in hours, the ache lessened. The sick feeling grew dimmer, too, and he felt solid and grounded again. When he pulled back, his gaze dropped to another passage.

Watch those memories. Don’t contact me until you do.

Tom pressed his lips to these lines, trying to breathe them in, feeling how their rough surface scratched his mouth.

Permission to contact Harry. He still had it. He was simply supposed to meet Harry’s condition.

That meant that he had to return to the Pensieve. The sooner he was done, the closer to Harry he could feel again.

Carefully, Tom folded the letter and put it in his pocket. If things got bad again, he could always touch it and remind himself of the future.

The memories weren’t a punishment. They were a chance to improve things.

Tom couldn’t really be certain, but he preferred to cling to this notion.

This made things easier at least to a small degree.

*** 

He chose to return to the start of the memory. Silently, he watched his shadow speak with Harry, lingered on how it hissed the words of self-admiration and hung onto its useless pride.

“I fashioned myself a new name,” Riddle boasted breathlessly, “a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!”

“You are not,” Harry said quietly. Despite his age, his resolution was steely, and if Tom had to choose whom he admired more at this moment... it wouldn’t even be a competition.

“Not what?” Riddle snapped. Insecurity and rage were twisting his ghostly face — it was a pitiful display. If the words of a 12-year-old boy had the power to affect him, then he had not only failed at greatness, he was also a failure of a sorcerer.  

“Sorry to disappoint you and all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore,” Harry said hotly. “Everyone says so!”

The reasoning was… like that of a child. Even though his stomach was clenched into a tight knot, Tom smiled a little, suddenly overcome with a rush of gentleness and fondness for this particular version of Harry.

He was trusting. He was pure in a way that even his Harry wasn’t — he didn’t see death and destruction yet; he was not betrayed by Dumbledore.

He was not betrayed by Tom.                              

The smile disappeared, leaving Tom hollow.

When Dumbledore’s phoenix burst into the Chamber, carrying the Sorting Hat, Riddle laughed, and Tom laughed with him — only his laughter was hysterical because all pieces in his head suddenly clicked into one clear picture.

Dumbledore. Of course. Of course it was Dumbledore’s plan all along, how did he not see this from the start?

Harry hadn’t sneaked into the Chamber secretly — Dumbledore allowed him to. Dumbledore was likely watching him even now, invisible, waiting for the outcome.

Harry was a Horcrux, and Horcruxes could be destroyed with basilisk’s venom.

This was a test. Dumbledore wanted to see if he could get rid of the Horcrux inside Harry without necessarily killing him. The Hat was here to give Harry the Sword — with his mindless bravery, it was not a surprise that he could pull it out. The phoenix was here to decrease the chances of Harry dying and to heal him after he was stabbed.

Clever. And enraging. Because for Dumbledore, Harry was a game piece. For Tom, he was the world.

He would have let Voldemort live for a thousand of years. He would have allowed him to destroy this universe until nothing was left if it meant he could keep Harry safe. Dumbledore would never prioritise one over a billion, and for that, Tom hated him.

“Kill him,” Riddle hissed. The words sent a jolt of automatic panic through him, and Tom moved between Harry and the basilisk before he could think rationally about it.

The snake was magnificent, there was no denying it. Even the first time, when he’d been distracted to the point of ignorance, he stopped to watch it because it was breath-taking in every way.  

There was only one drawback. It wanted to kill Harry, and it meant that Tom would see it destroyed.

Harry broke into a run with his eyes shut. He managed to half-cross the room when he tripped and crashed down, his chin colliding with the cold stone. The sound of it launched Tom into immediate action again before he could stop his stupid feet.

Feeling this protective for such an extended period of time was exhausting. His heart kept hammering relentlessly and his hands were itching with magic, needing to pour it somewhere to protect Harry and to make sure he never got hurt again. How could anyone live in such a state?

The basilisk roared from pain when Dumbledore’s phoenix attacked it. Its tail whipped across the floor, approaching Harry with deadly speed, and Tom’s heart stopped. It stumbled forwards again only when Harry ducked, crouching, dirty and bloodied but with determination still burning brightly on his face. He was beautiful and desperate, and Tom would have cradled him in his arms if he could touch him.

A gust of wind sent the Hat right in Harry’s face. He grabbed it, put it onto his head, and threw himself to the side when the basilisk’s tail snapped forward again, almost crushing him into nothingness.

This was all strategic. It wasn’t a coincidence that the phoenix appeared immediately after Harry pledged his loyalty to Dumbledore. This was training — training in blind devotion, in recklessness, in self-sacrifice. And Harry had no idea.

At least this Harry didn’t. The adult version knew everything yet he still seemed to hold deep respect for Dumbledore.

Perhaps some training was too ingrained to ever fade from one’s core. This explained… almost everything about Harry. If Tom got another chance to make things right, he would dedicate himself entirely to removing these suicidal ideas from his head once and for all.

Harry pulled out the Sword from the Hat. He spent only a second on contemplating it — the next one, he was already standing and pointing it at the basilisk.  

Nothing about this picture was palatable. The sword was too heavy for a child his size: Harry was struggling with it, and the basilisk kept thrashing, hitting everything in sight. How he survived was a matter of miracle. If he had died… If he’d died, this would be it. Tom would never be the person he was now. He would be limited to a memory in his own diary, to a ruin incapable of human thought. He would never get his second chance, and the life as he knew it would never exist.

Terror that rolled through him could only be rivalled by the sheer horror of witnessing the basilisk’s fang separate itself from its mouth and plunge into Harry’s arm. Static electricity burned somewhere above his elbow in a phantom sensation of pain Harry had to be experiencing. It wasn’t real, but Tom’s breathing still quickened, and his fingers wrapped around his arm convulsively.

He couldn’t tell if the fang fell out because Harry had aimed his Sword there or if it was Dumbledore again. Either way, Harry was dying, and even though Tom knew he’d survive, watching this was no less excruciating.

“Fawkes,” Harry murmured hoarsely. His eyes were fluttering shut in an image that came straight from Tom’s worst nightmares. “You were fantastic, Fawkes.”

Giving praise to an impervious bird when life was bleeding out of him. Harry was insane. He was the Harry — his Harry. It was no wonder that an overwhelming longing for him had been and was going to be Tom’s undoing in every life he lived.

“You’re dead, Harry Potter,” Riddle crowed, and Tom turned to face him with a snarl.

He hated this version of himself. Hated him. It was just a shard of him, dull and shallow, and if this underwhelming thing was ever his future, he would have preferred death.  

Riddle wasn’t a powerful wizard. Even now, when faced with a dying wandless boy, he was too wary of making his own move. He let the basilisk be his weapon; he was watching Harry die and not intervening because he was intimidated.

Though perhaps it made sense. Maybe even Riddle could see Harry’s brilliance despite his narrow-mindedness — maybe, beneath the hatred and the fear, he was fascinated. Tom knew he would be.

Harry might not have much power, and he certainly didn’t at the age of twelve, but he still managed something no other wizard had tried. He’d defeated a giant basilisk with a sword; his agility was almost otherworldly as he twisted, crouched, and ducked from the heavy blows.

This was worthy of admiration. Even Riddle couldn’t be that blind so as to miss it.

When the phoenix healed Harry, Riddle didn’t cry out in alarm or anger like Tom might have expected him to. Instead, his face shifted between different conflicting expressions, and his eyes regained the hungry glint Tom found intimately familiar.

“It makes no difference,” Riddle spoke confidently, with only the tiniest twitch of uncertainty underneath. “In fact, I prefer it this way. Just you and me, Harry Potter... you and me.”

The surprising jealousy raised its ugly head, making Tom tense. He didn’t know in what way his shadow meant these words — he didn’t like to think about it either. It didn’t matter any way because there would never be such thing as Riddle and Harry, not until Harry came back to the past and gave the real Tom a chance at rebirth.

Without answering, Harry stabbed the diary with the fang, his eyes glistening with fevered hatred. Even Riddle’s piercing scream didn’t shake Tom the way this look had. He barely heard a sound through the sudden roaring in his ears, the sudden realisation that this was Harry’s first and last meeting with an actual Tom Riddle. Voldemort was a monstrosity with a face Tom refused to claim, but physically, Riddle was him.

How did Harry feel, watching him grow up? Had he ever looked at him and seen Riddle from the Chamber of Secrets? How could the feeling of love prevail over the feeling of hatred the 12-year-old Harry was currently wearing?

Tom turned away, unable to keep looking. His throat was dry, and as his knees started to shake, threatening to buckle right under him, he thrust his hand into his pocket, gripping the letter there.

In some other world, this moment had been Riddle’s end. But it wouldn’t be his.

He could do better. He would do better.

He’d finish watching these memories, he’d complete his letter to Harry, and then he’d start working. Harry would never look at him like he had at Riddle. In years, the memories of the Chamber of Secrets would fade; Riddle would become a shadow of a shadow, and Tom’s image would outshine him. It would take precedence in Harry’s mind.

This determination washed away the worms of doubts and self-hatred. When the new wave of memories swept him along, Tom felt prepared to face them.  

[akumaalert]

Medical Log Sixty-nine

Karl Heisenberg x AFAB Reader (Uses She/Her); Explicit Content, 18+ ONLY

CW: Medicplay, medical kink, medical examination, voice kink, roleplay, consensual voyeurism

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31802593 

"Medical log...this is my...sixty-ninth attempt."

You rolled your eyes. Of course he would go for a sex joke the second the recording snapped on.

Staying still was a difficult task. The steel table was chilling your back and your muscles screamed at you to purse away from the cold.

The warmth between your legs, however, demanded that you stayed.

Heisenberg began exactly as he said he would - listing off your name and age with that ever lilting voice that made your cunt clench in delight.

"Body is in...fuck...the most gorgeous condition..."

Playing dead was so hard when he was out of view. Heisenberg was so expressive and you were missing all the nuances you so adored. You could only picture him studying you - licking those delectably thick lips that you loved to nip. The fact that he was fully clothed and hovering over your naked body was as thrilling as it was nerve wracking.

Part of you willed stillness on the sheer fear that if you moved, the spell would be broken and Heisenberg’s role of doctor would be traded for actual work. Convincing him of doing this had not been the simplest task. The first time he caught you listening to one of his medical logs, he had raised a quizzical eyebrow and chuckled lightly at your blush. When you laid in his arms after making love one morning, you had shyly admitted the desires that had been ignited simply by listening to his voice.

"I think they umm...I think it's technically called medical play..."

The swiftness with which he cut you off still made you feel shame. "I'm not experimenting on you."

It took all the strength you could muster to look at him despite your cheeks absolutely burning. You placed a hand on his own cheek to rub the pad of your finger over one of his scars. "No. No...that's not what I meant. It's pretend. For fun. Roleplaying basically..."

You loved when his glasses were missing from his face. Green eyes flickered - studying you intently - before his lips stretched into an attractive smirk. "Would that turn you on, buttercup?"

And so the two of you had planned. It was convenient that the toys you needed were inconspicuous medical equipment. Most you already had and the others were obtained from the Duke without suspicion. At least you hoped. He was always a jovial fellow and at least didn't question the use for the pinwheel. Where the rest came from, you did not question. It wouldn't do to dwell on the purpose or origin when living in the shadow of Miranda's clutches.

When Heisenberg's hand ghosted near your head in the present, you repressed the want to moan.

"Proceeding with inspection..."

One leather clad hand cupped a cheek while a bare, calloused fingertip lined your lips. You could not entirely make him out like this, but you could see his green undershirt in delightful detail if you rolled your eyes high enough. His trench coat and his outer shirt had been discarded and the thought made your skin prickle. The spirals of his chest hair peeking from his shirt made your fingers tent with a want to touch him.

But cadavers couldn't move. So you swallowed and resisted the temptation to dart your tongue to meet his caress.

"Subject has the softest lips...prettiest damn thing I've ever studied."

Heat and the ever lingering static that was Heisenberg radiated just a breath behind you. If you had any courage to move just so, you imagined that his crotch sat just above your line of sight.

Would he already be hard? Heisenberg had held his typical swagger when you had mapped out your wants and respected his limitations. But you could tell that hesitancy still sat not so lightly on his shoulders. Perhaps he would need to drag things out - let his pleasure build as yours boiled in every limb.

Eyes half lidded, you nearly missed the scalpel floating gingerly through the air. As Heisenberg had insisted, only the handle touched your skin. Beginning at the curve of your jaw, it traced ever so slowly down your throat like a breath. Despite the lack of danger, the sensitive skin pimpled and your throat constricted.

"It's as if I built her myself...everything I could ever fucking want. Absolute damn perfection," he muttered. Feeling drunk off his words, you struggled to keep up with them all. After all, you were not sure how sensitive the recording would be. Heisenberg was a loud man - a grand man - and so rarely whispered as he did now. "A lovely neck...if only I had found her sooner...might have given her a necklace of teeth marks to wear."

When the scalpel slipped to your chest, your gasp could not be stifled. But instead of stopping, Heisenberg simply removed his fingers from your face to set both hands in a frame on either side of your head. He was adjusting and leaning and soon his eyes met with yours. Though you could not see anything below the rugged slope of his nose, you imagined his mouth as slightly parted.

His eyes were normally flecked with golds and browns, but the darkness there now was not an uncommon sight. You saw it when he was angry - returning from family meetings or trips to the Dimitrescu castle. Whenever his facade had been tested for too long with his "mother" and the walls came crashing down the moment the doors to the factory were closed.

You also saw it when he was lost to lust - when he used arms as steady as steel to hold you to him until you were both limp messes on the floor or the desk or the shower or the bed.

It was a color you so treasured - especially when the hints of softness clouded them as they did now.

Heisenberg's voice careened and curled just like the scalpel's handle around your breast. So light but so heavy.

"I don't need any damn notes for these tits...have them fucking memorized. Fuck what I wouldn't give to put my mouth on them. What a damn waste. Body is so cold and those nipples are perked up so nicely. Inspecting..." He audibly swallowed, clearing his throat. "Inspecting chest in detail now."

While the scalpel handle swirled against one of your nipples, Heisenberg's gloved hand went to your ignored breast in a firm squeeze. You were already so worked up by the mere prospect of your play. To have it as a reality with Heisenberg towering over you and switching his attention from your breasts to your eyes to your lips and back again was absolute torture. The leather on his fingers did nothing to help you. The gloves were old and worn into a fibrous texture that made every hair on your neck stand on end.

Your lover was a cruel man, but not a patient one. With his pointer finger and thumb, he twisted your nipple. Eyes clapping shut, you shook when you realized a tremble in the scalpel. A telltale sign of his passions rising and his powers thrumming along with them.

"Color?" he asked in a voice of gravel.

It took you a moment to understand his inquiry. Your stoplight system. That Heisenberg was already checking in with you filled you with a whole new type of warmth. Nodding with flushed cheeks, you ran your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

"Green," you muttered.

So he continued.

"Nipples are extremely responsive." The scalpel and his hand pulled away but for a moment before the sides were switched. But with them came the feeling of his bare hand on your equally bare chest. "I could stand here all day just admiring the view. Not a damn thing to say to do it justice."

He flitted between a tender touch and a rolling, twinging pinch. The scalpel rolled along with it all, though there were intervals when it remained still against your skin. As if his mind could not keep up with it all. It would start back again with a lurch and small grunts of frustration from its master.

"Moving to the lower torso..."

Your body arched when he moved and broke contact with your skin. The scalpel's trail became steadier as it looped around your breast to slide so terribly slow down the middle of your chest. Down it slipped and once again your fingers were fidgety. The skin of your stomach felt particularly sensitive, especially when the scalpel began to dance in patterns too quick and too slow for your mind to process.

"These hips of hers...the legs...hard not to get too ahead of myself..."

Though you could not see him at all now with your head locked in its position, it made the situation all the more welcome to your growing need. In your mind he studied you - watched your body with all the appreciation he was so fond of giving it. He might pay attention to your stomach - to the invisible designs he was tracing there. But his eyes would inevitably flicker to look between your legs. There was no gown or sheet to protect you from his hungry gaze. There was nothing at all preventing him from doing the myriad of things that you longed for him to do.

By the sound of his breathing, you knew Heisenberg was not left unaffected.

"Subject...is gonna fucking pay for making part of my work part of her play," he growled. "Do you have any idea how distracted I'm going to be every time I go in for an actual log? But you don't care, do you? It's all about you."

Tension hung in the air and one of your legs stretched upward, suddenly aching.

Heisenberg's hand came down fast to push it back into place.

"Didn't say I wasn't gonna indulge you," he said, playfulness in his voice. He gripped your knee still held in his hand with a soft touch. "Just that you'll pay for this later."

Lightly nodding, you felt his hand leave you. Your entire body tensed when the scalpel - ever streaming down your skin - began a descent that told you just how impatient Heisenberg had become.

It didn't help that a series of items - familiar and agreed upon in advance - floated over you on a glinting silver tray. You could not tell if they moved slowly due to his powers flitting with his emotions or if he simply was intent on you seeing them.

A bottle of lube. A bullet vibrator and its controller. The Wartenberg pinwheel. Another scalpel for the hell of it.

If the scalpel on your skin ran near your aching cunt, you never felt it. The next thing you knew, it was landing on your thigh and stalling.

As if he could not help himself, his hands were on you again. This time instead of pushing a leg onto the table, he pried both of your legs open with a prodding touch.

Though it broke your play, you took a large inhale of air. You could not recall ever being so wet or so ready.

Heisenberg let out a low whistle.

"You're soaked, buttercup." A pause. The telltale sound of buckles being clicked and dropped to the floor.

You could not take it and spoke with a whine.

"Not fair...I can't see you."

The chuckle he gave was dark. "A shame. It's like someone asked for this. Ironic. You're such a whore that your little game is preventing you from watching me. And I know how you love to watch."

The asshole took his time to slowly unzip his pants. The heat in your body was palpable and painful. A small gratified groan told you all you needed to know about where his hands had gone.

"Pretty, pretty girl..." he cooed. "Show isn't over yet. You had some requests and what kind of a lord would I be if I was to ignore one of my subject's pleas?"

The knowledge that he was stroking himself - languid even as your longing screamed through your very soul - made the pit of your stomach pulse with delayed pleasure.

Trying to even your breathing, you focused on the ceiling laid brown and bare above you. Or at least you tried. Heisenberg chose the absolute worst moment to bring both the second scalpel's handle and the brand new pinwheel onto the scene.

Huffing heatedly, you scrunched your face into a grimace. What a sight you must be - a scalpel on each thigh and a pinwheel hanging dangerously close to your cunt. You pushed the thought aside, unable to bear the image in your head.

"To the main event," he announced, voice returned to a rumbling purr. "Planting the 'control device.' Inserting now."

When he had added lube to the bullet, you did not know. Probably somewhere between your embarrassment and the blood pounding in your ears. Small and sleek, it entered your folds gently but awkwardly. Heisenberg's powers going on the fritz would never cease to endear you. He was so strong - so normally loud and wearing whatever mask that a situation called for. But in these moments with you, he was raw and his powers were unhinged in the most intimate of ways. It made you feel powerful - the ability to bring this lord of metal to timid movements when he could likely destroy the whole village with enough metal and mental will.

Rounding its way deeper and deeper inside of you, the bullet suddenly stilled. The sensations of the scalpels skating up and down your legs combined with the threat of the pinwheel overwhelmed you. If you had wanted to speak in that moment, it would have been quite out of your ability to remember how.

"Insertion complete."

Babbling during sex was another staple of Heisenberg's. But he was eerily quiet and controlled in the seconds that followed right up to the click of the controller.

The jolt to your core was immediate and you gasped in hurried breaths against the most exquisite pleasure you had ever felt. The fight to keep your fingers extended was lost as all ten fisted. You were so wet that the lube had been a moot point. The bullet buzzed inside of you and your hips shook with the herculean effort of staying still.

Heisenberg exhaled, voice faraway and dreamy.

"Ausgezeichnet...excellent. Progressing faster than expected."

You choked on air. Beyond your control, your body flinched against the hum of the bullet.

"Fuck," bit out Heisenberg. "Have a proposition for you...since you're going to be punished for making me work, I'm going to go back to the recording-"

"Oh God!"

"I'm going to go back to the recording," he repeated gruffly, ever incensed at being spoken over. "And I'm going to count the seconds that it takes for you to come. And however many seconds that is...that's how many spanks you'll be getting. Right on that luscious fucking ass of yours."

Another click of the bullet's controller made your eyes roll to the back of your head. Fingernails bit into your palm with the want to hold onto something - anything. How could you be so stimulated yet so far from release at the same time?

"I can see everything from where I'm standing," he continued. "Can you feel that wetness of yours? Dripping into your ass...pussy such a pretty pink shade. It'll go so nice with a red ass. One, two, three...you're building up to quite the spanking. Might want to hurry it along."

He was indeed a cruel man.

But not a patient one.

The pinwheel's weight was noticeable, but not deep. It pinched and rolled its way directly down and over your clit and the sensitive flesh splayed and shaking from sensation.

How you hated the gargle that you let out. It was ugly and incoherent.

"Too much!" you cried.

"Scheisse!" The pinwheel flew to the floor as the scalpels stopped. Even the bullet seemed to rumble ever lighter. "Color?"

It took you several breaths to gather the ability to nod. When Heisenberg remained quiet, you grunted. "Green...green...fucking green. Floor it."

Heisenberg laughed - all throat and no breath. "Floor it. Gotcha."

Making a strange sound - somewhere between a groan and a grunt - Heisenberg returned his hands to your body.

The hand free from leather stroked your thigh. The leather, however, fondled your mound and found your clit with practiced speed.

Barely able to keep up with the bullet and the scalpels and the trembles and the sound of Heisenberg's guttural encouragements, you closed your eyes and focused on the circles he made against that sensitive bundle of nerves.

You could not open your eyes or close your mouth. You could not do anything but chase a high approaching as sure as any sunrise.

Apparently taking pity on the mess you had become, Heisenberg only took one swift last round on your clit before speaking.

"Now to pass a current...through the body...using six volts..."

The words had no time to settle in before the action was done with his gentle hand on your quivering thigh.

Screaming, too, was beyond your control.

"Come on," he said through the return to your clit and the massage in your cunt and the swirls of scalpel handles on your legs. "Come on, come on, come on."

"KAR...k...kah..."

Your orgasm knocked the very air from your lungs. Pins of light erupted as your eyes squeezed with every furious flutter of pleasure. Your cunt was actually twitching and the glove on Heisenberg's hand felt so exquisite as it barely pressed down on your clit.

"Yes! Yes!" Egging you on with a happy laugh, Heisenberg uttered praises that registered in a haze. "At last...wonderful...what a good girl."

As the absolutely mind-numbing orgasm faded into your very bones, you lay there exhausted and beyond satisfied. Breathing became a chore that your throat seemed unused to performing.

Heisenberg moved as efficiently as ever to complete his work. The bullet was removed with care by his own fingers. When it had turned off, you had no recollection. The scalpels clattered to the table with a metallic hiss.

Sweat built on your brow and dragging down your temple, you swallowed and swallowed again. The sound of rushing water perked your tired body. You were slow to rise, testing fingers and a palm burning with indents of your nails. Soon, however, you had sat up. A swirl of satisfaction still sat low in your belly.

As satiated as you were, you could not help but enjoy the sight of Heisenberg standing before you. In one hand was a glass of water begging to be brought to your parched lips. In the other he held the recorder. You watched with hooded eyes as he clutched at the recorder before dropping his hand to adjust his pants.

Pants that hung low on his hips with the zipper pulled wide. The adorable swell of his lower belly was visible underneath his shirt. His cock was curved at such a beautiful angle above silver hair. It was blushed a dark pink with veins reaching up to a head that was nearly purple with need.

Bringing the recorder back to his mouth, Heisenberg eyed you before huffing.

"...ending recording."

[fanfiction-funtime]

IM SORRY IVE BEEN SLACKING ON HYPING YOU UP

Anyway I’m reading through the Things ™ and wow

Can I request something? There’s an idea I’ve been pondering for a bit. You know already who I’ll ask for, I’m guessing.

What if the reader fell for Xiao in Genshin, in a state where they constantly daydream about him. Rather than working on scenarios and scenes, it happens in real time.

Meanwhile, in another universe, Xiao in a modern setting has fallen for a Genshin character- the reader. He daydreams about them in the same manner.

To the reader, their Xiao is a guardian yaksha, Golden adeptus, and doombane itself.

To Xiao, his (y/n) is something just as exalted. I tend to use a seelie, since they’re an immortal race of ancient and now weak gods.

What they both don’t know is that they’re actually meeting in those daydreams. It’s not just imagination and the longing for company, but an actual relationship with another person.

Bonus points if it’s some sort of soulmate au and they physically can’t find each other and eventually realize it.

I’ve never told anyone about this before, and I’m excited to see what you do with it! I might work with it one day, just not yet.

(Hoo boy, this will be tough, but I'm sure I can do it! Xiao might be a bit ooc as I'm getting his personality from wiki and fanon, as well as modern au [hopefully] gives him less trauma and a slightly different personality.)

(Also, I can't do sad endings. So a bit of deus ex OC at the 3rd part)

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

Your game

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

Your pov: the dream eater of your dreams

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

You are (y/n)(l/n), and you are in the saddest love story this side of the lake.

Ever since you saw him in that first quest you were in love!

You were just a teen though, so it wasn't real right? After all, your red string wasn't connected to the screen.

Well, your string isn't connected to anything...

Y-your just a late bloomer though right?

(Ten years later)

Your now in your twenties and you still love Xiao!

He permeates your thoughts like how lovers do, you feel an inexplicable hurt in your chest similar to what many describe feeling when they see their soulmate prior to their string appearing, not to mention whenever you aren't busy you feel like you're...slipping...in...in and...

[Daydream]

It was happening again.

It was like a daydream but more...real.

Like a lucid dream.

You saw your string, just like so many other times, and you followed it.

You ran and ran, turquoise clouds parting and making paths for you to find him.

Him..

You ran and ran, glad that atleast in some way your delusions can give you some semblance of true love.

You saw the..wait..that's not the inn.

Well it is the inn, but more modern. And there was a school next to it, and a small village not far away.

Another of thing was that you were in some kind of yellow armor, it reminded you of those baby geovisnaps from genshin impact(that are absolutely BULL-)

You went into the elevator, which seemed more ancient than usual.

And when you reached the balcony, you saw him. But he was different.

Instead of the Yaksha you usually saw, you were greeted by an equally shocked man in a martial arts gi. But it was him.

But different.

You reached out, and he did the same.

And you touched

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

Xiao's pov: the midsummer knight of his dreams

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

(Clarifying: in this version Liyue is based on European mythology and aesthetic while Mondstadt is based on Chinese. So you are a fae hunting knight rather than a demon hunting yaksha)

Xiao had always been reserved, but what happened to him as a kid drew him further into his shell.

Abusive parents, accidentally giving his sister trauma induced amnesia, he felt the weight of his actions like atlas feels the world on his shoulders.

Luckily, two people took him and his sister QiQi in: QiQi's doctor Baizhu, and Xiao's therapist(and Baizhu's husband) Morax.

It was difficult to come out, even after Xiao stopped feeling so at fault. So he mostly stayed in his room and played video games.

That is until he met you.

Well met is the wrong word here.

He saw your character in his world's version of genshin impact: tribunal eruption

The way you used your weapon, the way your armor shined in the night as you rode to his wanderer. The smile you gave as he handed you (favourite food).

But most of all, the way you used fighting styles from so many martial arts and hand to hand combat techniques.

From irish kickboxing to karate, from assassination arts in ancient history of japan to systema.

It awoken two things in him: first was his want to learn martial arts and make his own.

The second was his love for you.

But don't worry, your physical attributes only drew him in. Your personality made him stay.

Years went on, he became a martial arts instructor for his own style, and moved into an apartment near a small village.

He started teaching at a school nearby, he even gets a discount on rent for giving free lessons to the owner's sons, Ivan and Viktor.

He's also convinced those two have a crush on him but it's pointless.

After all, he was a dream eater, a common group of people who have a strange ability to find their soulmate.

Specifically, the ability to have "lucid daydreams" where they meet their soulmate.

But he must be defective. After all his soulmate kept appearing as...well you. As a knight that would meet him on the balcony every night.

He assumed maybe it was your voice actor or designer, but neither of them have had the lucid daydreams.

He began thinking he'd never find his soulmate

Until one daydream...

He was on the balcony again, like a prince awaiting his knight to rescue him.

But it was different.

The apartment complex he lived in now looked much smaller, as did the tree it was built around, and the building looked far more ancient in design yet so much younger in age.

And the village and school nearby aren't there anymore.

Oddest change of all is that his gi he was wearing just a second ago is now similar to the outfit warn by the mondstadt demon slayer Corps

And when you arrived at the balcony, he noticed a red string, one that connected your heart to his. But you weren't wearing your armor, you were wearing casual, modern clothes.

He knew it was stupid, after all you can't touch your soulmate in the daydreams. But he felt compelled to....to reach out and..

You touched him.

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

nothing never comes between you, and nobody helps you get together

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

(3rd person pov)

He really did find it annoying, how often mortals would find themselves in the wrong dimension, especially when it's because the writer wants drama. And now he's written in to solve the problem.

Ah well, it's his job.

(2nd person pov)

You didn't know how to feel. You were touching Xiao...and you weren't waking up. Was this...real?

"You... you're real...different but....still the person I love...." Xiao seemed to be equally in a trance at the prospect

"yeah...so are you..."

The armor you wore melted away, and you cant see it but Xiao's fictional clothes melted from him as well. You were both equally real, in your own reality.

But you knew it couldn't last.

"When the daydream ends, I wont be able to see you anymore," Xiao said with a sea of tears in his eyes, "We've actually met now...and now...now the dreams will end."

You lean into him, "then let's make this dream the best one we've ever had."

Your about to kiss when-

"Terribly sorry about this!" A childlike voice called, "you know, interrupting your moment and all that. See for the sake of narrative, you both were put in separate universes. And it's my job to give you a happy ending."

When you both looked, you saw a child made of bone climbing into reality from some kind of hole.

"Now just wait a moment aaannnd-"

The turquoise clouds cleared, and the world rippled into a conjoined reality between genshin impact and tribunal eruption.

"Welcome to your dream world, enjoy eternal love!" The child said as he crawled back into the hole and it closed.

When he was gone, you both observed the world around you: a beautiful mix of aesthetics surrounded you, and both your armor and his adeptus clothing were on you both.

You gazed into eachother's eyes.

He placed one hand on your cheek while another held your hand, "I'm not good with speaking..speaking my emotions..but I....maybe my actions can do that for me..."

You felt your red string radiate with the warmth of love, likewise Xiao felt his daydreams dissipate like a haze leaving his mind.

You grab his hand and place your free hand on his cheek, mirroring his love, as you always have.

"Xiao...your very existence tells me all I need to hear.."

You both leaned in, and kissed.

Two lovers, in a dream made reality,

A paradise for all eternity.

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

I feel it kinda fell apart with the deus ex, but I think I scraped it back together in the end!

I hope it's good enough for what you envisioned buddy, I tried my best!

(Also I think you deserve something just as good as what happens to the reader insert in this fic, story)

(Tagging: @golden-wingseos (this is the writing blog for someone you told to tag you), and @storytravelled (just to keep the idea of tagging in mind))

[creativeashproductions]

When Fate Intervenes // Luke Patterson

IN WHICH: Fate intervenes with a trio of musicians on the night that was supposed to be legendary. Fate puts the reader with a special ability that may or may not be able to save them. Fate puts a clairvoyant, an accidentally upsized pizza and thirteen year old oddly obsessed with a rock band.

Warnings: Swearing, food poison, death, and fluff

Words: 2.8k

A/N: Time to get rid of some fic ideas from my TOO LONG of a list. It’s Julie fault, she keeps encouraging each fic idea I tell her.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

The Orpheum, 1995

The line up comprised of countless girls wearing homemade band shirts for the new band performing. Your little sister, at thirteen years old, had pleaded for weeks if not three months to go watch it. It was odd since she was more in the pop scene than the rock music. Your parents would never let her go to the rock show at night, so it was you or no show. It took a promise of doing your chores for an entire month and her dessert for two months. That was why you stood beside Harper among the fangirls while you clicked through the camera you’d saved up for years.

“I’m so excited.” Harper buzzed dancing on your feet as the time on her watch dwindled down more and more.

Your eyes flitted from the screen to the ball of energy you called your little sister, “I can tell. Which one do you have a crush on?”

“Reggie. He’s the bassist and so fucking-sorry freaking cool.” Harper gushed, “A good portion of the fans are obsessed with the lead singer Luke. Bobby is the rhythm guitarist, and he’s a ladies man, but he’s sweet about it.”

“And you’d know that how?” You questioned letting go of the camera around your neck. Your e/c eyes meeting her matching pair of irises; well yours were a bit more vibrant.

“I just know.” Harper retorted before beaming as she roughly poked the pin she’d made herself, “This represents all of them. Red for Reggie’s plaid shirt he always has, orange for Bobby’s love of oranges, yellow for Luke’s energy and pink for Alex because he loves the colour!”

The pin had their band design with Sunset Curve on it with the words outlined with a sunset made up of red, orange, yellow and pink just as Harper had pointed out. By far, it was her best work, but that was expected from an art student at Los Feliz High School. An art school for artists and performers. You attended for photography and creative writing just as Harper attended for art.

“That might be your best work Harps.” You complimented your little sister who shivered in the cool night breeze. You didn’t even think about tugging off your warm jacket to place on her shoulders.

You’d rather be cold than your little sister no matter how much you fought with each other, the Y/L/N siblings had each other’s backs no matter what.

“Thanks.” Harper murmured, leaning closer, “So do I meet Reggie?”

Your eyes widened slightly at her subtle goading to a part of your life was cinematic. It was a piece of you that very few people knew about, only your parents and Harper. Like most of the women in your paternal lineage, you carried the ability to foresee events in the future. A clairvoyant.

“Harper!” You scolded the young teenager who blatantly was just over-excited to see the band she’d been talking about constantly.

Harper’s cheeks turned a cherry blossom pink under the crappy lighting from the marquee sign. Even in the light, you noticed the changes in her face as she matured into a young woman, her cheeks while still full didn’t have that baby cheek look now. You saw a stubborn zit that you could see under the makeup that didn’t entirely match her skin tone. It caused an ache in your heart to know that soon she’d have the experience of heartbreak.

“Sorry!”

“You told me these guys are my age. Need I remind you that you are thirteen? If anyone older than thirteen makes an advance I’ll put my softball skills to the test.” You sternly informed the shorter girl with the pout that screamed rebellion, “Just be a kid Harps.”

“Like you said Y/N, I’m thirteen. I’m not a kid anymore.” Harper dropped the attitude to adopt a more mature soft tone. You could see the tinge of sadness in her eyes at losing the part of life where it was easy.

“I know. I can wish you’ll stay that annoying little kindergartener that stole my clothing.” You chuckled, “You’ll always be the Stephanie to my DJ.”

The two Y/L/N siblings momentarily glanced around before hugging as quickly as possible, they still had reputations to uphold. Had you been actually paying attention, you and Harper would have noticed the commotion from the people behind you.

As you and Harper had the sweet moment, the very band performing had raced out the alley into the street. What brought you back to the surroundings was the pizza boy delivering the pizza box to you. 

“Wait, we ordered a small!” You exclaimed finding the boy holding an extra-large pizza. You only received a shrug in response with the right change given back. 

Two things happened with this food mistake, you didn’t have to pay more than what you actually ordered, and you still got the larger pizza. However, the Orpheum didn’t allow outside food, meaning you’d have to force-feed yourself all the pizza or trash more than half. 

“We could shar-” Harper was cut off as a blinding white light became your focal point. Harper knew what was happening by the specific groan coming from your lips.

A nauseating scent of cheap meat, gas and chemicals flooded your sense of smell in the dingy alleyway. It was nighttime with a few people in the general vicinity with a dilapidated table and mismatched chairs on the walls’ edge. A poorly made sign with Sam & Ella’s and going by the vendor selling the hot dogs the name fit. Sam & Ella sounded like salmonella.

From a distance, you couldn’t quite hear the conversation between three male teens, but you had a bad feeling. They all migrated to a ratty couch that had been better days, a rat wouldn’t even crawl on it you swore.

The first boy had slicked back hair with rosy cheeks you dubbed innocent and cute that juxtapositioned his rocker attire. He had polished black leather shoes, pleather if his choice of food was an indication, a leather jacket and a red plaid shirt around his waist. His attention focused on the two guys beside him. In the middle, the boy had the blue hood of his sweater pulled over his messy brown hair as if hiding. Nothing stood out about him, and it seemed like that was intentional. On the other side, the last one was the tallest with his blonde hair hidden by the backwards black hat. A distressed dark grey jean jacket open to proudly display his pink hoodie. Each one wearing black pants and adorning rings.

“This is awesome, you guys. We’re playing the Orpheum!” The middle boy joyfully spoke head in the clouds instead of the questionable surroundings. He arguably had the loveliest smile you had ever seen, and his friends had nice smiles at that as well.

Yet even if this hadn’t taken place, however, it still felt like you were intruding on something incredibly private, “Why am I being shown this?”

Your question went unsurprisingly unanswered.

“I can’t even count how many bands have played here! And then ended up being huge!” He happily sunk into the back of the couch, thinking of all the bands he had CDs to in his room, “We’re gonna be legends!”

“Oh.” You breathed as you caught a whiff from the boys that quickly gave you the understanding of why you saw this. You could only smell what you had dubbed as death, the scent unchanging from the first time you’d encountered it.

The death stench accompanied a clairvoyant vision if the object of your vision was sick or about to die. The first time you encountered, it was a vision of two cars colliding, the sound of shattering glass and crunching metal, the scent of burning flesh overpowering the milder stench. The next morning school was cancelled after a teacher died in a car accident on the way to work.

“Eat up, boys. ’Cause after tonight, everything changes.” The only vocal one continued with his two friends silently listening. The trio toasted their food together.

“No!” You exclaimed as each boy took a bite. You held your breath, hoping that the inevitable in the vision wouldn’t occur.

Unfortunately, it was right away the warning appeared. The blonde one the most affected, “That’s a new flavour.”

“Chill, man. Street dogs haven’t killed us yet.” The leather jacket guy proudly spoke, the least one concerned. 

Even the guy in the middle was concerned but ultimately continued eating.

“Stop it!” You shouted, but it was no use. As with every vision, you had the potential to stop it from coming true, but while in the vision, you couldn’t interact with the people or surrounding. No matter how much you wanted to slam the food out of their hands.

But one thing sends shivers down your spine. The one in the middle made direct eye contact with you. Something that had never happened before nor to any previous clairvoyants. He kept eye contact as he slowly grew sicker and sicker.

The three boys had no chance as the ambulance rushed to the alleyway to save them. The paramedics weren’t as quick as the vendors who’d already packed and fled to protect their own hides.

You watched as the paramedics did everything in their power to save the young teenagers with everything possible. Just like Luke sang in their last song, the boys felt the darker version of an electric hammer to the heart. The clocks freezing in place as they each took their last breathe in the oddest of deaths. You saw the blonde guy die painfully first before followed by the formerly hooded one, the terrified cries of the last one haunting your phantom ears.

How did three healthy teenagers die on the same night of the exact nature within minutes of each other without one surviving? Maybe it had something to do with the hot dogs chilling in the liquid that was a cesspool of bacteria compounded with tained condiments from battery acid.

You roughly came out of the vision shaking and pale-faced frantically scanning the surroundings. Harper had a grip on the extra large pizza box while the other tightly held yours to ground you in the present.

“Are you okay?” Harper softly questioned with the panic hidden inside her body. Harper knew that this vision had been one of the bad ones. The haunted look in your eyes hinting towards death in the near future.

“We need to go.” You frantically replied, grabbing the pizza that would hopefully have a hand in saving three hopeful teens.

Your gym teacher would be proud of the distance diminished and speed you kept towards the area that would further shatter you. Foreseeing death and sometimes unable to stop it always had a nasty impact on you. 

“Where are we going?” Harper yelled, “We’ll miss the doors opening!”

“We’ll miss them if we don’t hurry up!” You shouted back at the disgruntled little sister but at the moment that didn’t matter. 

What mattered was three hungry teenagers about to gorge themselves on death dogs if you didn’t make it in time. It appeared for the first time you’d actually manage to stop the deaths, unlike the previous three times. 

“-tonight. Everything changes.” The chill-inducing rasp helped navigate you to the disgusting couch. Your cold hand slammed the hotdog from the blonde’s hand, the shocked reaction halting the other two.

“Don’t...eat...it.” You heaved bending over at the waist to catch your breath. Wheezing sounded from your little sister as the running and seeing her favourite band up close settled.

“Excuse me! I paid for that hotdog!”

“You’d be buying yourself death literally. Your dreams of playing the Orpheum would be extinct.” You sighed, chugging the water from the pocket of Harper’s backpack for a few seconds before the owner took it back.

“Okay, look I don’t know how you found us but-”

“You don’t have to believe me ’cause I sure as hell wouldn’t have but don’t jeopardize your dreams. Look my little sister wanted to see your show so I brought her and we ordered a pizza. They fucked up the order by giving us an extra-large pizza. We’ll barely eat a quarter of it, and the venue is strict on the rules.” You rambled using tour hands to elaborate the story before Harper roughly elbowed your ribs, “Ow!”

“Oops.” Harper faked a sugar-sweet smile for your benefit as the interaction with the three musicians slowly dove into embarrassment.

“-sorry. You’d be doing us a favour by not wasting our money and food. What do you say?” You hesitantly asked the trio who didn’t speak vocally; their eyes meeting in a silent conversation.

Reggie sighed as he begrudgingly dropped his hotdog in the bin near the couch, “Pizza outranks street dogs even if the dogs are heaven and to die for.”

“Literally.” You grumbled forcefully pushing the obscenely large pizza box into the middle one’s stomach, “I’m Y/N, this is my little sister Harper.”

“Hi.” Harper shyly waved with cheeks turning a dust pink concealed by the dark of the alleyway. The boys’ lips all quirked at the sudden contrast from the confident sister slamming her elbow in you to the bashful teen.

“I’m Luke. This is Reggie and Alex.” The hooded one, Luke, introduced his bandmates as best he could with his hands occupied by the pizza box.

Without the threat of death by the hot dog, you actually took the time to look at Luke with appraising eyes. His eyes were like oceans of blues, greens and even a brown that both exhilarated you; the desire of studying them not surprising. His smile outshone the sun on the hottest day in August.

“Nice to meet you.” You informed the trio with a beaming smile that matched your starstruck little sister. The interaction gave you the opportunity for immense and untiring future teasing on the teen that daydreamed of the bassist. 

You had to admit the trio were incredibly attractive.

“Come back to the dressing room. We can eat there out of the cold.” Alex courteously invited the two formerly strangers. His blues sharing his pure intentions to repay you for saving their lives and offering pizza. 

“Of course.” Harper nodded her head with her eyes barely meeting the ones of the boys. The shell was broken when Reggie piped up.

“That’s a really cool pin! Where’d you find it?”

Gated Community, Los Angeles, 2002

An off-tune humming filled the modestly sized home in the suburbs of Los Angeles, California with the sound of water splashing. Doing the dishes was a mindless chore that typically didn’t bother you, but the pain in your lower back protested. You’d have used the dishwasher, but the thing was perpetually breaking down. Didn’t seen essential to replace when washing dishes by hand was just as productive.

Or it was when you didn’t have the extra weight in your midsection, a symbol of your love with your husband. In fact, you would have avoided doing dishes if you hadn’t just used the last clean plate and glass at breakfast plus Luke hadn’t been home in the previous week.

Sunset Curve had gone on a press tour for the upcoming album and tour planned for next year.

“Oof.” You moaned as the little rascal once more hit your bladder, “Are you breaking electric guitars in there?”

“Not a soccer player?”

“With you as their father? Not likely.” You snorted as the sudden appearance of Luke became clear. You hadn’t been expecting him, “I missed you. We missed you.”

As had it since you first told him Luke’s warm hand came to rest on the front of your swollen belly. In a short month, you’d be cradling the newest member of the Patterson family with Luke singing the lullaby he solely made for baby P.

“Still haven’t given in?” The lead guitarist teased you with a beaming smile splitting his face, “Go sit down. I’ll finish the dishes.”

You didn’t need to be asked twice. 

“I’m not abusing my clairvoyance to foresee our child’s gender, name and appearance.” You pointed one finger in his direction, “I refused Bobby’s pleading to see which models he would bed. The only time I did something like that was to reassure Alex that he would fall in love with a lovely guy.”

Luke’s heart burst with sheer adoration at how easily you had sunk into the friendship with the band after that one night. A night that had given birth to a friendship that slowly evolved into a romance and marriage. To this day, the group got together as much as possible.

“I love you.” Luke chuckled, “Even-”

“-if I came into your life like a completely crazy person?”

“We’re all a little crazy.”

Your house surely would be when a little tornado with Luke’s energy took over the home you’d made with Luke. The very home you would have more children and grow old together until soon you held your grandkids on your laps.

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[the-witches-you-couldnt-burn]

Should have known better

Prompt: when ur reading fanfic and one character was cooking and the other comes up to them and they start making out and everyones like starting to take their shirts off and the author STILL hasnt mentioned anyone turning off the stove

My first attempt at Dickinette. I hope I did it justice!

Here’s my favourite ratatouille recipe! It’s amazing!

Ao3

—————————

Warnings: mild sexual content & mentions of gun violence, gangs, bullet wounds, fire hazards and unplanned pregnancy

The keys jangled as he took them out of his pocket, the lock clicked open and the old apartment door creaked. He took two steps into the hall, dropping his bag with a thud and closed the door behind him. Running a hand through his long, sweat slicked hair he sighed. Today had been a long day.

A deep inhale inflated his chest, but the black police vest he wore restricted it’s full extension. The smell of a wonderful home cooked meal made his stomach growl. Ratatouille, his favourite.

His heavy boot laden feet created echoing footsteps as he walked into the grey tiled kitchen. His wife stood at the stove humming, the google pad’s screen was lit with the ingredients list. She scooped and flipped the squared vegetable mix before putting the lid upon it for the meal to soften. She turned to her sketchpad, inspired by something unknown. Drawing captured her full attention, her brain’s need to replicate the idea on paper outweighed her focus on her surroundings.

He should have known better. He grew up with vigilantes and superheroes. He should have know never to sneak up on someone, especially if they knew how to fight; although this rule doesn’t count for villains (they know what they did).

For Marinette, it had been a long day of ripped seems and designer’s block.. It was nearing on eight when she finally started dinner. Looking at the clock she sighed, ‘Dick’s working late again.’ She hoped he wasn’t caught up in the shooting across town. Two gangs had a disagreement over territory and many civilians got caught up in it. She wanted to help but she had been banned from heroine duties for the time being. Her last ladybug adventure resulted in a bullet to her leg, which was still healing.

Dick took her to the hospital stating she had gotten caught in the crossfire (which now reminds her they need to restock the medical supplies), and they discovered that she was four weeks pregnant.

In present time she was still well within her first trimester, just starting her second month; and she was feeling it too. Vomiting each morning wasn’t fun, more so when it started happening more frequently throughout the day. Their midwife reassured the young couple that it was completely normal, but if it keeps up to come back as it may become hyperemesis gravidarum which will harm the baby.

Baby.

She was still trying to wrap her head around it. She had turned twenty-four last July and Dick was only older by a year. They weren’t planning on this and they had taken all of the precautions to prevent it. Yeah sure, they were married but it hadn’t even been two years! Her worry for the future faded as she reminisced on her husband’s reaction to the discovery. He was shocked for a few seconds before jumping up and down like a toddler who got a toy, beaming with joy. Tears of happiness pricked his eyes, threatening to spill on a moments notice.

Another symptom that weighted upon her was fatigue. She was no longer a teen who could challenge the world with a pen and a cup of coffee. She was a tired, pregnant adult who had to give away her coffee maker due to the temptation being too strong. No more late night or all-nighters designing clothes and completing commissions. She had to lessen her commissions due to the stressful nature of them but working from home, in her own studio helped. It had been a month since she found out and now she just wanted to hibernate due to lack of energy.

Putting down the spatula, she scooped up the pen, suddenly inspired by the mix of colours; an autumn playsuit came to mind. Biting her lip as she drew, neglecting her surroundings, the blare of the news channel becoming white noise.

She should have known better. She was a superhero, albeit she was benched at the moment, but still! The first rule of ‘herodom’ was to always do the right thing, but the second rule was to always be aware of your surroundings.

Arms wrapped around her waist, a small gasps left her mouth and her elbow drove straight back into her captor’s chest. A masculine groan came from behind her, but she paid it no mind as she tried to get out of the man’s strong grip.

“Mari, Mari! Calm down it’s me” Her husband said breathlessly. Her jab winded him, although it was softened by his police uniform, Marinette’s miraculous strength was powerful to say the least. He just wish he didn’t have to be on the receiving end of it.

“Ma moitié! Why would you do that!?” Her anguished cry caused him to hide his chuckle in her neck. Her heartbeat made its presence known within her chest and her breathing was still shallow. Turning within his embrace, she faced him with a pout on her face, “You jerk, you scared me!” She whimpered, her pregnancy hormones had blurred the line between her emotions causing her mood to flip like a switch.

Dick looked down at her with a guilt riddled face. “Shoot Mari, I’m sorr-“

Before he could finish apologising Marinette tugged him down and connected her lips to his. She leaned back into the countertop, cupping his cheek and jaw with both hands. Dick eagerly followed her lead.

He picked her up, his hands moulding the flesh of her thighs. He had done this before, but took extra precautions this time due to her still healing leg injury. He moved her away from the countertop and sat her upon the plush couch. He hovered above her, lips only splitting for a millisecond for air before closing the gap once more.

Marinette pushed on his shoulder and swiftly flipped him so that she was on top. The quick motion caused his head to slam back into the wall, the noise halted their make-out session. Her eyes widened, the cloud of lust had evaporated and rained down on her parade. She apologised multiple times to him, eyes watering in the process.

Dick just laughed before pulling her back in for another kiss. In contrast to the sloppy wet kisses before, the gentleness off Mari’s lips now made him feel like he was made of glass. She filled it with her remorse over hurting him. But as the kiss continued it shifted back to the momentum and passion they had before.

Her hands trailed up his chest, she shivered into the kiss; he had just taken off her shirt, leaving her in her bra. His thumb brushed under the mound of her breast, he felt her furious heartbeat through he skin.

Her focus lowered to his bare neck. Placing kiss upon kiss there and biting occasionally, leaving a trail of pink marks for his colleagues to see during his neck shift. A hand ran down her back as it arced, pushing her bosom into his chest.

They broke apart, foreheads pressed together, bodies flushed against each other’s. She peppered his face with kisses, “I love you”s were stated after each. He returned this action with the same fervour.

Something was wrong though. It was a sudden onset plaguing thought that something wasn't right. They had tried to ignore it but it had become like a tugging string tied around their hearts, signalling an oncoming danger. Wordlessly the two scanned the apartment, neither wanting to part from their entanglement.

Confused the two looked back at the other. Neither finding what set off the warning sensation. As their eyes connected, realisation washed over them like a bucket of ice water. They inhaled the burnt air and scrambled apart; both exclaiming “Fuck!”

Running into the kitchen, the tiles were cold against her bare feet. Dark unventilated smoke hung in the air. Upon entry to the room it was a wall of heat, it was a wonder the smoke alarms hadn’t gone off yet. Dick grabbed a nearby tea towel and swatted at the smoke, he shuffled towards the burners, mouth and nose hidden within his elbow.

Marinette opened all nearby windows, she hoped that the neighbours on the floors above didn’t question the smoke. The couple worked together to set up a system of fans to push out the smoke from the kitchen.

“If Alfred were here he would kill us.” Dick solemnly nodded in reply, ‘we should have known better’. He scraped the burnt black char into the bin, while Mari held the pan. Once the pan cooled down enough it went into the bin too, there was no saving it.

Dick tied up the yellow bin bag and placed the spatula into the sink. “Soooo... want chinese? If you’re up for it, it’ll be my treat.”

Her stomach growled as her eyes flicked to the clock, it was almost nine and she hadn’t eaten since breakfast at seven. She nodded, “sounds good let’s go!”

She walked towards the door, hand on the handle when she realised that he hadn’t followed her. Turning back around she saw him staring at her, cheeks flushed, unmoved from his position next to the bin.

“Um babe?”

“What’s wrong Ma moitié? I thought you wanted Chinese.” Her head tilted, confused at his actions.

He cleared his throat, eyes flicking away. “Babe you’ve forgotten your shirt.”

“Shit” left her lips as she bolted back to the couch, vaulting over a counter much to Dick’s disapproval. She heard him scolding her from the other room, but was too hungry to care.

Walking back to him, now appropriately dressed, she grabbed his hand, pulling him out the door. He just sighed, following his crazy wife, throwing the bag into the complex’s dumpster on the way to the car.

No one was getting in between her and her noodles.

[angy-mouse]

what do you imagine the demon versions of the boys to look like?

Alright here's the thing I did these in probably an hour total, i had no reference for the poses, this was my first time drawing masculine figures, and I tried like 7 new techniques- I will be taking 0 criticisms /lh

And remember I do not condone outside fanart of my designs draw whatever you want but I ask that you don't post it as it causes me anxiety and severe 'why bother bc they do it better' syndrome. Also and remember that the initial ideas for these guys came from @/hearts1ck

EDIT: happy birthday ashybae take this ya fuck /pos

Gogy clocks in at 6' even plus 3" of adorable, stubby gray horns that are very smooth. His bat-like wings have a wingspan of about 3 and a half feet when fully unfolded but he usually keeps them folded up under his outershirt because he's embarrassed about how small they are. His tail is actually covered in a thin layer of velvet-like fuzz (like deer velvet) and is very soft to touch, even at the pointed end. His clothes were specially made for him, with the shirt and shorts being made of an obscene amount of fabric wrapped several times to make for a quick blanket in a pinch. As a sloth demon his specialty is summoning soft and puffy clouds that are perfect for napping. He's also the most well-rounded of the trio, having regular sloth, envy, lust and gluttony work.

Sapnap is six and a half feet tall plus six inch horns. His pointed ears, distinct hooked tail, and reddened hue to his eyes are signs of his fire demon heritage. His body heat is naturally higher than humans' or even other demons' because of this and he's been known to exude fire from his palms, breath, horns and tail when he gets especially riled up. His horns and tail are the same smooth and hard texture, with his tail being a bit softer and squishier because of the muscle underneath. He's infatuated with human culture and is constantly changing his wardrobe to try and fit in- last change was around 2015, hence the eboy skater attire. As the youngest he's the least experienced in the group and only takes on mid-teir wrath and envy work.

Dream is what we call a Tall Motherfucker at 7'3 plus another foot of horns. He's the only one who actually fell and it shows with his distaste for humans as anything other than easy prey. He replaces his suits every 100 years or so just to not be a strange sight for his contracts. I tried drawing decent wings about 7 times before giving up so see the referece picture there, imagine that's about 10% fucked up, his wings are 40-60% fucked up, burned and torn from his fall. As the only one without a tail he is all too eager to tug on Sapnap and George's to torment them but he can't handle it when they try to do the same to his wings. Forgot to note it on the drawing but I'd put his wingspan at about 12-15 feet. As the highest ranking of all of them he works almost exclusively in pride, but takes a few envy or lust jobs on the side to fill his time.