#(He’s *above* them yes but shouldn’t be kept *out* of them)

[kaleidoscopewritings19]

Jason Todd x Reader

Title: Bad Kisser

Character(s): Jason Todd and female reader

Warnings: None. Mentions of semi smut. Not even close enough to be smut.

Prompt used is in bold and credit goes to: @asassydork

Jason was sprawled out on the couch at Wayne Manor, when you walked in and tossed your purse on the couch. “Dick’s not here you’ll have to come back later.” He said as he flipped through the TV channels.

It didn’t stop you from sitting on the couch opposite of him. Jason looked over at you, and you were wearing a black (thigh length) dress with spaghetti straps. Red heels were on your feet, and boy did your thighs look soft. If he just angled himself just right, he could see right up your dress.

After you caught onto what he was doing, you quickly crossed your legs. Jason laughed, "Don't flatter yourself, Princess. It's not like I haven't seen it before."

You glared at him, "Shut up Jason. Wait- when have you seen me-"

"Never mind that. Why are you dressed like that? Are you and Dick a thing now?" he asked, and you shook your head.

"No. And for your information, I had a date." You said as you sunk further back into the couch.

“Didn’t go well?” He asked and you shrugged your shoulders. “Is it shallow of me to say he was a bad kisser, Jay?” You genuinely asked, and he looked over at you.

The remote control was up against his lips and he chose his words carefully. “Yes.”

His words infuriated you and you grabbed a throw pillow and threw it at him. “You’re such an ass!” You shouted and Jason got up off the couch with the pillow in hand.

He began hitting you with the pillow (not hard enough to hurt you), and you tried to fight back. “Stop…. It!” You shouted between laughs. Now you were lying on your back, trying to block his hits.

You snatched the pillow out of his hands and he toppled on top of you. Instantly, you started tickling his sides, and he began laughing. “Stop! Haha- I can’t breathe!”

After you had stopped, he tried to catch his breath. His dark brown eyes were now focused on you and his smile faded away. Until now, you didn’t realize how soft Jason’s lips looked— nor did you realize how good he smelled. He smelled faintly of musk and vanilla, with a hint of cigarettes.

Your Chanel No. 5 perfume began to mix with the cigarette smell to the point it became sexily intoxicating. Jason’s eyes were now on your lips, and he couldn’t help but to slowly kiss them. His lips moved slowly against yours, sucking, and biting your lower lip.

A moan escaped past your red lips, and he smiled during the kiss. But he couldn’t find it in him to stop, so he kept going until you pulled away to catch your breath.

“Jason— we shouldn’t be doing this.” You whispered and he brought your hands above your head. He pressed kisses from your neck up to your jaw line.

“We both want this. We’ve both wanted this for a long time. Really, it was inevitable.” He whispered into your neck. His breath tickled your ear, turning you on even more.

His finger tips traced along your collar bone, and slowly started to pull down the thin strap of your dress. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispered into your ear, causing you to shiver.

But the sound of the front door opening made you sit up, making your head collide with Jason.

“Ouch!”

“Shit!” The two of you exclaimed as Dick stopped dead in his tracks.

He looked at your disheveled appearance and your smeared lipstick. Dick motioned between the two of you. “I.. I don’t even want to know.”

Dick left the room quickly, and Jason’s attention was back on you. “Want to go out on a date tonight?” He asked and you smiled.

“Well it definitely can’t be as a bad as the last one.” You said, and Jason’s lips were back on yours.

“Is it shallow of me to ask if I’m a bad kisser?” He asked and you laughed. “You’re far from a bad kisser, Todd. How long have you wanted this?” You asked and his hand rested on your thigh.

“A really….” He pressed a kiss to your chin. “Really.” He kiss your jawline. “Really.” And then his lips moved slowly against yours. “Long time.”

You had always had a crush on Jason. Who wouldn’t? He was handsome. He was sexy. And he would protect anything or anyone that was his, and that gave him extra points. After that, it was like you were marked. You were his and only his, and anyone who tried to hurt you, might as well have signed their own death sentence.

____

Another short one, and I hope you enjoyed it! I’m kind of on a Jason kick. 👀

#jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader #jason todd scenarios #jason todd smut #jason todd #the red hood #dc red hood #redhood

[ninsletamain]

Fluffbruary Day 6: tie | embarrassment | dessert

My contribution to RebelCaptain Fluffbruary PLUS @quarantineddreamer's super ultra amazing fic addition below the cut!!!

The lines of code on the screen were no longer making sense. Somewhere between coffees 4 and 5 of the day they had slipped from Jyn’s grasp, gone from familiar symbols to something more akin to ancient hieroglyphics–as sure a sign as any that it was long-past time for her to take a break from her assignment. 

Reaching her arms skyward–tight knots in the muscles of her shoulders and along her spine protesting–Jyn glanced blearily at the alarm clock that perched neatly on the corner of the desk. 

Shit. Was that really the time? She scrambled to her feet, socks slipping on the linoleum floor, and threw her hair quickly into a bun. (Or what she hoped would pass for one anyways.)

Pants. I need pants. Jyn cast about the room, throwing the covers of the bed back, checking over the back of the roller-chair she’d spent the day–no, longer than that apparently–glued to, but found nothing. 

She could have sworn she had at least dropped a pair of sweatpants at the end of the bed at some point…

Cassian must have tidied up before he left (the neat freak); she hadn’t even noticed. That happened sometimes: the computer consuming her when she was locked onto a particular idea. But it shouldn’t have happened today. Today she had planned to wrap up her coursework early, surprise him… 

Okay screw the pants, Jyn decided, marching from the room towards the kitchen with all the determination of a soldier approaching the battlefield.

(If a soldier’s uniform was your boyfriend’s oversized, university sweatshirt and the fight ahead was the arduous task of preparing a meal.)

It took her more than a few tries to find everything–despite how organized Cassian kept his kitchen cabinets–but before too long Jyn was staring down at the black, glinting surface of a flawlessly seasoned cast iron pan and the looming depths of a large pot, a box of spaghetti, its matching jar of sauce, and an assortment of meat and vegetables thrown on the counter beside them. 

“I’ve got this,” Jyn muttered to herself, eyeing the recipe she’d taped to the fridge like it might grow fangs and snap at her. (Or catch fire and nearly burn the place down as had happened on her most recent foray into chefdom). “You’ve hacked into government systems before,” she continued. “This will be easy compared to that. A piece of cake, or a pot of pasta.” Hopefully anyways. 

She checked the oven clock. If she stood any chance of getting this done before Cassian (Impossibly-Punctual) Andor came home she had to start now. 

The empty apartment should have been quiet, peaceful. Instead, it suddenly seemed impossibly loud, noises swelling in her ears the longer she stood staring at the array of ingredients and tools––footsteps from the neighbor above, the distant rumble of a washing machine next door, the clicking of the fridge beside her, all clamoring in some insane harmony. 

The longer she stood there waiting (for what, she had no idea) the more power the sounds seemed to hold, quick to dredge up each and every anxious thought she had been so diligently shoving to the furthest corners of her mind since Cassian had told her of his plans to travel to Yavin…

When he cooked, Cassian always had music playing. Maybe that would help. Drown out the worry and the fear.

Jyn pulled her phone from the pocket of the red hoodie and tapped a playlist at random. Something upbeat began playing, muffled through the fabric as she tucked the phone back into the pocket, rolled up the too-long sleeves of the sweatshirt, and drew a deep breath. “Alright, here goes nothing…”

Turning down the hallway that led to his apartment, Cassian smelled something…interesting. 

He tried to pin down what it was. Starch, yes. Tomatoes, yes. Onions and garlic, most likely. But then there were other unexpected notes, the heat of what might have been chili powder tickling at his nostrils, growing stronger with each step closer he got to his door, and maybe the cheese he was smelling was parmesan or pecorino? The combination wasn’t exactly bad, just off–out of balance. 

He thought for sure it was one of the neighbors; maybe Mrs. McCleod experimenting again–after all, she had stopped him just last week to ask him about his favorite market for finding fresh produce.

But as he passed by Mrs. McCleod’s apartment, he noticed the crack under the door was dark, a small pile of mail collecting beneath her welcome mat. She was probably away visiting her niece again. Which meant that the smell was most likely emanating from the door at the end of the hall.

His door. 

Cassian tugged his tie looser, a warmth kindling in his stomach, a smile slowly spreading across his face; Jyn. 

He’d insisted she should stay at his apartment while he was gone–enjoy some solitude away from distracting roommates and loud neighbors–but he hadn’t been entirely certain she would take him up on it. She’d given him a strange look at the suggestion (despite the fact that after nearly a year of dating, she seemed to spend more time in his apartment than her own) and returned to her keyboard, completely absorbed in the endless numbers and symbols flashing wildly across the computer screen at her command.

The reaction hadn’t been a total shock to him. Jyn had been unusually quiet ever since he’d first mentioned his job interview in Yavin. He’d tried to tell himself she was just preoccupied with the workload associated with the final semester before she earned her degree, but deep down he knew that she was likely asking herself the same questions as he was: If I get this job, what happens to us? 

Cassian reached into his suit pocket for his key, twisted it in the lock, and slowly opened the door, his eyes tearing up at the overwhelming burn of capsaicin in the air. Dropping his backpack by the door, he followed the sound of hissing steam, music, and occasional cursing into the kitchen. 

It had been just over a day since he’d seen her, but even so, Cassian had spent the plane ride home longing for the moment when he could wrap his arms tight around her again, kiss her until they were both oxygen deprived and gasping for air. 

He’d envisioned a quick, eager reunion. Unable to hold himself back from rushing towards her; clumsy, grabbing hands and awkward clashing of teeth. 

But then he saw her: standing in his kitchen with her hair wild atop her head, dancing from the stovetop to a nearby drawer; humming along to the song playing faintly in the background as she poked uncertainly at a pan of sauteed vegetables and shot a quick glance at a boiling pot of water–and all he could think to do was lean his shoulder into the doorframe and stare, his breath catching in his chest with a fierce and sudden ache. 

Cassian knew he was helplessly, hopelessly lost–had known it for a while–but it had never been more apparent to him than in that moment, hovering at the threshold. He was certain that if he did nothing else for the rest of life but watch her, he’d still die the happiest man on earth. 

She’d decided to borrow his favorite sweatshirt while he was away–red, well-worn, with Ferrix University emblazoned across the front. As she rose on her tiptoes to reach into the spice cabinet, the bottom of the sweatshirt rose too, revealing the faintest glimpse of black panties, serving in sharp contrast to the perfect, pale curve of her ass. 

The sight inspired a different kind of ache. Cassian made his way across the kitchen, and placed his hands on Jyn’s shoulders. Somehow, the only words he could seem to find were, “You’re cooking.”

A string of swear words fell out of her mouth in quick succession. “I could’ve stabbed you,” she grumbled, even as she set down the knife she was holding to lean backwards into him. “You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that.”

“I’m surprised I managed to.”

He felt her shoulders rise and fall against him. “I was distracted.” 

“I can see that,” he mused. “You’re cooking. You hate cooking.”

He could just make out the faint flush that rose in Jyn’s cheeks as she glanced back at him, her hair tickling his chin. “I do hate it,” she agreed, “but I figured you’d be hungry and…well, I don’t hate you.” 

A soft laugh escaped him, “What a relief.”

“Shut up.”

“No really,” he said, pulling her closer. “I was beginning to wonder.”

“Do you want food or not?” Her scowl was made significantly less believable by the smile catching quickly at the corners of her mouth. 

Cassian gave a considerate hum. His stomach had been rumbling as he stepped off the plane, but now a different kind of hunger was taking hold. His skin was hot beneath his suit where Jyn’s body pressed against his own; all he could seem to think of was her in his sweatshirt–in only his sweatshirt. 

But Jyn seized his brief lapse of silence as an opportunity to change subjects. “So…How’d the interview go?” she asked lightly, though her muscles went tight as she dipped a wooden spoon in the red liquid that bubbled on the stove in front of her.

He watched as she blew steam away from the spoon before bringing it to her mouth to taste and wincing. “The interview was fine,” he murmured, pressing (what he hoped she would as) a reassuring kiss to the top of her head.

The smile had already vanished from Jyn’s face. “You think you got the job then?”

Cassian moved his hand slowly up and down her arm, earlier ideas already forgotten. “They made me an offer,” he admitted quietly. 

“They did…” The energy seemed to have drained straight out of her–the dancing, humming, swearing woman from moments ago turned to shadow. 

Like she didn’t know. Like she couldn’t feel the frantic stuttering of his heart where his chest pressed between her shoulders blades. Like she couldn’t sense him, standing right here beside her on the knife’s edge. 

“I told them I couldn’t give them an answer yet,” he told her. Of course I did. As though there had been anything else he could do…

“You did what?” Jyn twisted in his arms. “That is your dream job. You know you want to go, so just go. Why would you–”

“Jyn,” he cut in, and she went still–let him hold her in place for at least a moment longer while he continued. “I said yet. I told them I couldn’t give them an answer yet.”

Her knuckles were white, wrapped tight around the wooden spoon. He reached past her and switched off the burners before anything could start smoking or boil over.

Cassian’s own nerves were starting to take hold. He gave a hard swallow, trying to clear the tightness from his throat. “I don’t want to go to Yavin. Not without you… I don’t want to go anywhere without you.”

“What are you saying?”

“Come with me. After you graduate in the spring, come with me.”

“Cass…”

He was about to tell her she didn’t have to answer right now–to delay whatever pain he sensed was coming from inevitable rejection–when she closed her hand around his tie and tugged him closer, tilting her head back to press her lips to his. 

Beneath his mouth, he could feel her smile forming, but it still took his breath away to see it when they broke apart. “Is that a yes, then?”

Jyn wound his tie tighter around her hand. “I like this suit,” she commented, eyes sweeping across the blue fabric and back to the black silk of the tie. 

“I’m taking that as a yes…” Cassian told her, his attention splitting as she began to playfully undo the top buttons of his shirt. 

“I cooked for you…” Her lips passed over his throat, her voice muffled. 

Heat was racing up Cassian’s spine, his thoughts going increasingly hazy. “You did…” he replied, inhaling sharply as the hand not wrapped in his tie found the back of his head, fingers tugging lightly at his hair. 

“I’m a terrible cook, but I cooked. For you.”

She still hadn’t answered him. Not really. He wanted an answer, a definitive answer. “What does this have to do with–”

“Are you still hungry?” 

“Jyn–” he pleaded.

“Because I was thinking we should forget about the food,” she continued, her mouth brushing over his ear–words like sparks to his skin. “I changed my mind. There’s something else I want to do for you instead. Something I’m much, much better at…”

He relented slightly, instinct shoving reason aside as he tugged at the hem of the sweatshirt, her skin soft against his fingertips. “What did you have in mind?” 

“You mean, aside from moving to Yavin?” she murmured with a teasing grin, pressing even closer, tips of their noses brushing, her breath warm against his cheeks.

“So that was a yes earlier…”

Jyn rolled her eyes at him. “What do you think?”

He lifted her off her feet, and she laughed, wrapping her legs tight around his torso. “I think you’re coming to Yavin with me,” he said, slightly breathless, not quite daring to believe it. 

“I’m coming to Yavin with you,” she echoed, delivering a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Welcome home, Cassian.”

#myworks #fluffbruary #fluffbruary 2023 #rebelcaptain #jyn erso #cassian andor #modern au

[dulcesiabits]

rules of rationality, p.2.

summary: it's unfortunate, but when you're injured, the only person who helps you is Alhaitham.

notes: 1.6k words, fic, part one, depictions/discussions of injuries, slight suggestive content, weird mutually pining situationship

The first thing you’re aware of is the lancing pain in your torso, like someone has run a red hot poker through your guts and stirred it into a mess.

The second thing you’re aware of is something firm under your head, like a stiff pillow. Not uncomfortable, exactly, but different. 

Then, you open your eyes to see Alhaitham’s arms and a dusty book in his hands, floating right above you. Ah. You’re lying down. And you’re lying down on… oh shit. You groan and try to lift yourself up, but that only causes the pain in your torso to spike, so you drop your head miserably back onto Alhaitham’s lap.

“Get out of my house,” you manage to say.

“You’re in my house,” he replies calmly, flipping a page.

“That’s even worse, you know that?”

Now that your consciousness and your sensation are returning, you can make out a little more about the situation. You’re on Alhaitham’s living room couch, and there’s a blanket pulled across your legs. Your lips are dry and cracked, and you lick them with your swollen tongue in vain. Even the smallest movement sends fresh pain throbbing through your body like waves. There are bandages on your arms, and more peeking under the hem of your shirt. 

“You shouldn’t move,” Alhaitham says. “You were badly injured when you were found. I can give you the full report from the doctor later, but it should suffice for now to know that the most major wound was on your torso, on top of several injured organs. The blood loss was substantial.”

“Wow. Thanks for telling me I almost died. But you’re not addressing the most important question.”

“Which is?”

“Why am I on your lap?” you say.

“Because you kept tossing in your sleep and disturbing your wounds. You wouldn’t calm down unless I was holding your hand, but since that was inconvenient for me, I moved you to my lap instead. You slept quite fitfully.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, mouth puckering like you’ve bitten a sour zaytun peach. “Are you serious right now?” 

“Yes.”

You would scream, but that would only jostle your wounds. You were never going to live this down. You wouldn’t calm down unless Alhaitham, of all people, held your hand? Like you were some child, clinging to the hands of their mother, or worse, some romantic sap who couldn’t stand to be without him, even unconsciously? Honestly, you’d have preferred if your assailant had finished the job instead of leaving you to die of a slow humiliation on Alhaitham’s lap. With any luck, your wounds will finish you off instead.

Honestly, it’s not as if Alhaitham hasn’t seen you in more vulnerable and decidedly inappropriate situations, but there was a strange intimacy to laying on his lap that set your teeth on edge. You’re exposed like this. You’d have a hard time defending yourself if Alhaitham, for whatever reason, decided to go rogue and murder you like a crazed maniac. 

But more than that, you’re the one who usually initiates things in your relationship. You’re the one who reaches out first, and Alhaitham either accepts your advances or wards you off with his blunt demeanor. There’s no guesswork with him, which you appreciate. But this is the first time you’ve ever seen Alhaitham willingly let someone touch him like this, and for such a prolonged period of time. Sure, you’re injured, but it feels unsettling, to say the least. 

What made him treat you so differently? 

It’s a strange little reverse of the situation only a month or so prior, when he had been the one to show up injured at your doorstep. Now, you’re the one who needs his aid, and it’s not a position you like being in. People are normally in your debt, not the other way around. 

“What happened?” you mumble.

“That’s what I thought you could tell me.”

You cast your thoughts back, blindly fishing in the murky waters of your memory. What had happened? There was a new shipment of rare books coming in, some ancient poetry excavated in the desert, and you couldn’t resist the opportunity to snag some for yourself. But the dealer had been shifty and you didn’t like the look in his eyes. Years of intuition told you this was a rotten deal. When you tried to back out, things had turned violent. You had tried to flee, but then fought back when no other option was available to you. But even you couldn’t hold your own against a dozen experienced armed fighters. What happened after you passed out, you couldn’t say.

In hindsight, it had probably been a trap of some sort. Set up by who and for what, you couldn’t say. Your list of enemies was a mile long, though there was also the chance you had simply gotten caught up in something by accident. 

Sure, you rubbed people the wrong way because you fell on the other side of the law, and you dug into secrets and invaded privacies most loved to keep under wraps. But you were harmless! Except to the people whose information you sold for a premium, but other than that!

You tell Alhaitham as much, and he drinks in the information slowly.  

“It’s not like you to fall into such an obvious trap. Should I make an appointment with a neurologist for you?” he says. 

“Only if you sign up for one with me,” you say. “Hey, I bet you wouldn’t have been able to resist the deal yourself. Some of those books were priceless antiques.”

“I can think of better things to risk my life for,” he says.

“So, how did I end up here, Scribe? Did you save me?” That part of the story had been bothering you like a loose rock in your shoe: the gap between you fainting in a warehouse and you ending up on Alhaitham’s lap.

“Hardly. The Matra were the ones to crash that little party of yours. They arrested most of the perpetrators, though some escaped.” 

“Ah, how classically incompetent! But wait. They didn’t arrest me on the spot?” you say in disbelief. 

“One of them— one of your contacts, I suppose— recognized you as my acquaintance and fetched me before anyone could ask too many questions. I was able to smooth things over, and arranged for you to recover in my home instead of the general hospital.”

“Damn. How much do I owe you for that?” 

“Hard to say. What sort of price would you put on your life?” Alhaitham asks. 

“I’m priceless. I’m basically one of the treasures of Sumeru.” 

“I doubt it, considering you actively meddle in affairs that aren’t yours and cause endless grief to everyone involved.” 

“Hey, I’m just doing my job,” you protest. “But you know… it’s strange for you to offer to host me here. It makes me wonder… Do you enjoy seeing me like this?” you say coyly. It’s an errant thought, one you’re not quite sure why you voiced.  

“Not at all. In fact, I quite like how you usually are.” Simple, honest, direct. Just as Alhaitham usually is. You might have preferred it if he had lied instead. 

“What the hell,” you mumble. “That’s unfair.”

“You asked. Why did you ask if you weren’t ready for the answer?”

“You know, coming from you, what you just said could qualify as a confession,” you say. 

He flips another page. “And what if it does?”

Ah, this is dangerous territory. It’s time to back away. Your injuries must be more serious than you initially realized, if they were going to make you run your mouth like this and send you hurtling into social situations you can’t navigate with your usual finesse. “Then I’d have to turn you down. You know, the beautiful men and women of Sumeru would weep if I wasn’t available for their lovelorn gazes,” you say as lightly as possible. 

“Considering your relative unpopularity, I doubt anyone would care if we did end up together.”

“Jackass. This is why you can’t get a date other than me.”

“I will take your criticism under consideration,” he says.

You close your eyes. The more you sleep, the faster you’ll heal, and the sooner you’ll be back on your feet and out of here. Then, you’ll find some way to repay your debt to Alhaitham, if only to establish some sort of balance in your relationship for your own sake. Emotions have a habit of muddling any situation they’re tangled with, and they’re a complication you want to avoid. Yes, it’s better to keep things transactional.

A hand drifts down to your face, fingers gently stroking your cheek. It’s a touch you’re intimately familiar with. Normally, you’d bat his hand away, or kiss his palm to see how far you can get with him. But you can’t muster up the energy to do anything other than accept his touch.

You would never admit it to Alhaitham, just in case it makes him more insufferable than usual, but his presence is comforting. There’s no one else you would trust enough to fall asleep like this, without any weapons hidden on your person or backup plans in mind. He’s the only person in the world who you know would never hurt you. 

What the hell. You’re getting sentimental. Maybe it’s the unusualness of the situation. Maybe it’s the fact you’re hurt, or maybe it’s the way Alhaitham sheltered you in his home, despite his usual desire to avoid mess and fuss. 

His touch is traitorously soft. You should tell him to knock it off, just on the off chance it stirs up sentiments you’d rather lie buried. 

But you can’t. Or you don’t want to. Because for now, it’s just the two of you, and you almost feel like you’re someone precious to him as you drift off to sleep in his lap.

#liya writes #genshin impact #alhaitham #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #x reader #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #SURPRISE PART TWO!!! #just got hit with random inspiration for one but ive always wanted 2 write more for this reader #guess alhaitham was on the brain since i've been playing him a lot recently

[dhorrl]

Make Out Session

Katsuki Bakugo/Reader

MDNI 18+

Trigger warning:

Nothing much? Some cursing, dry humping.

Characters are aged up to over 18 always (I feel like UA shouldn’t even start until they’re college age anyways, let them be teens!)

Her phone pinged with a text from Katsuki.

My room tonight? Movie?

It was impossible to keep a straight face after reading that. Movie night in Katsuki's room was code for turning on the TV and making out until they couldn't stand up straight. As fun as it was, having to go back to her room, panties dripping with arousal and grinding into a pillow on her bed to satisfy the ache in her stomach wasn't exactly her idea of a dream.

Sounds fun. You better have snacks.

Oh, I'll give you a snack, alright.

Wow, he was shameless.

~~~

The makeout session was in full swing, and per usual, both of them were hitting the point where they wanted more but were hesitant. Katsuki had this notion that their first time, not just together but their first time EVER, couldn't just be in a cramped dorm room bed.

"Kats? Roll on your back. I want to try something."

He hesitated, not usually one to take orders, even from his girlfriend, but the desperation in his pants clouded his decision. He slid off her, laying out flat, as she climbed on and straddled over his aching erection. He groaned deeply as she pressed her heat over him, feeling the pool of liquid forming in her panties.

"Just let me do this. Please."

Slowly, she ground her hips back and forth, hands on his abdomen for support. She leaned forward ever so slightly, aiming to rub that bundle of nerves against his hard-on under his sweatpants.

"Oh, fuck. Kats, I'm so wet, and this feels so good."

She kept grinding away as Katsuki's hips involuntarily jerked upward, trying to increase the pressure.

"Fuuck, yes, keep going, baby."

Why hadn't he thought of this yet? This was much better than the hand job he would give himself after she left. All he thought about lately was fucking her, wondering what her pussy would feel like clenching around him. But his stupid fucking feelings for her were stopping him. As much as he'd love to rip her clothes off and fuck her into the mattress, he needed to do it right. Fuck, goddamn feelings and shit.

They kept this pace going, both aching and chasing what they needed at the moment. She wanted to kiss him, but if she leaned forward, she would lose this sweet spot she found, and she was so close it was killing her.

"Kat, I'm about to cum, fuck yes, I'm there."

Her legs shook hard, her body convulsed with the shooting pleasure through her whole body. Her moans were louder than anything she had when fingering herself, and she shot one hand up to cover her mouth, trying to stifle the noise to not alert the rest of the dorm to their amorous activities. Watching her get off from grinding like that, Katsuki lost control.

"Baby, I'm gonna keep going a second, please I'm about to cum just watching you."

He started jerking his hips more erratically. Even though the feeling was starting to feel overwhelming, she wanted to give him back what he had just given her. The overstimulation was insane, and her panties were soaking through. Katsuki was fixated on her face, watching it twist and contort with the extended pleasure he was giving her.

"Fuck! I'm cumming!"

He jerked a few more times, shooting into his sweatpants, leaving a sticky wet spot just above the equally drenched spot she left from grinding on him.

"Baby, that is so fucking hot," he said, reaching down to touch the damp place she made, and sneaking in a bit of touch outside her shorts, pressing down on her sensitive clit.

"Hey!" She laughed, slapping his hand away. He grabbed her hand, pulled her into his chest, and used his other hand to pull her into a heated kiss.

"You're coming back tomorrow, right? I don't think I can jack off ever again after that."

#bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki x y/n #my hero acedamia #bakugo smut #katsuki smut

[ramblingoak]

No, Cardinal

The Sexy Adventures of Cardinal Terzo ~ A series of stories featuring Cardinal Terzo and his adventures around the abbey

Art by @tasty-ribz / Dividers by @gothdaddyissues

Terzo x GN Reader ~ Cardinal Terzo has a non-conventional method of punishment for you...

Warnings: Cock warming, rough blowjob, gender neutral reader, nsfw, 18+ only mdni, 1,110 words

This was boring.

You tried to shift on your knees a bit, being careful not to move too much.  The Cardinal’s instructions had been simple: don’t move.  It seemed easy enough hours ago when this first began but after kneeling in the same position for so long you were starting to get sore.  He could have at least given you a cushion or something but you supposed it wouldn’t be much of a punishment if you were comfortable.  You took a deep breath in through your nose and pushed it out a little more forcefully than you should have, rustling the hair that was right in front of it.

“Mi dispiace, do you have other places to be?”  You tried to answer him but your voice was muffled and impossible to understand considering it was full at the moment.  Cardinal Terzo smirked down at you as he cupped your chin.  The black leather of his glove was warm and felt nice against your sore jaw.  “Don’t try to speak, do you remember what I told you?”

Stupidly you attempted to nod your head and his grip briefly tightened to keep you still, those strange eyes flashing in irritation.

“Don’t move.  Such a simple thing that you seem to be having a…hard time with.”  The smirk was back and it took every ounce of self control you had not to narrow your eyes as you stared up at him.  “Let me make it easy on you, eh?”

Terzo adjusted on his couch a bit, leaning more comfortably against the back.  His cassock was mostly open and you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander over his body.  Dark hair covered his chest, trailing down his stomach before it ended right above where your nose was.  When you looked back up at his face he was wearing a lazy smile and his heavy cock twitched inside of your mouth.

You probably shouldn’t complain too much, there were definitely worse punishments than cock warming Cardinal Terzo.

“Let’s try this, when you need to say ‘Yes, Cardinal’ I want you to blink once.  If you need to tell me ‘No, Cardinal’ then you blink twice.”  He started to gently rock his hips, his cock barely moving along your tongue.  “Do you understand?”

He smiled when you gave him one slow blink.  His other hand came up to rest on the back of your head as he started thrusting harder.  Little grunts were escaping him as he worked his cock further and further into your mouth with each thrust of his hips.  He had already come twice, filling your mouth with his release and warning you not to let a single drop escape.

Your grip on his knees suddenly tightened when the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat.  Terzo stopped then, holding your head firmly as he growled out some words in Italian.  Tears started to leak out of your eyes but instead of stopping he just rubbed them into your skin with his thumb.  When your breathing became harder, the air puffing out of your nose and rustling the hair at the base of his cock, he finally took pity on you and backed off.  With a groan he leaned back again, letting go of the back of your head.

“Isn’t this much better than cleaning the confessional booths?  A nice evening with your Cardinal, letting him use you.  Letting him fuck your mouth until he’s sated.  Don’t you agree?”  You gave him another slow blink, hoping that you didn’t look like a total mess.  “Perfetto.  A fitting punishment for a Sibling that kept talking during my mass.”

You winced at his words, remembering what had gotten you into this mess to begin with.  He was right, this was much better than the alternative.  There were a lot of Siblings and Ghouls that would kill to be where you were now.  You loosened your grip on his knees, flexing your fingers against the fabric still covering his legs.  When you glanced up at his face he was watching you, his gaze appreciative.  Your cheeks warmed and you felt bold enough to stroke along the bottom of his cock with the tip of your tongue.

“Ah, sÌ.  Sì, bene.  Molto bene.”

Terzo’s mouth fell open when you lapped at the tip, tasting the precum that was practically dripping from him.  Your eyes closed as you continued to work your tongue along him.  His cock kicked when you pressed against the sensitive spot near the head and you hollowed your cheeks as you sucked, applying the perfect amount of pressure to make him moan above you.  

You kept licking at him, your movements becoming slower and more sensual.  His free hand came back to hold your cheek and he slowly began to thrust again.  Your hands stayed still as he kept your head steady, as his thrusts began to grow more hurried.  The tip was leaking freely now, the salty liquid spreading along your tongue and then along his cock as you stroked it over him with each thrust of his hips.

“So beautiful with my cock in your mouth.  Are you ready to taste my cum again?”  His thrusts became harder when you blinked at him once, but you were ready for him.  You relaxed your throat as much as you could so he could sink deeper.  “Bene, that’s it.  Be good and take it.  Take me, take all of me.”

Terzo’s hair fell across his forehead and his groans began to fill the room.  You couldn’t look away from his eyes, his mismatched gaze mesmerizing as he watched you take his cock.  His eyes finally closed when he started to twitch and kick inside of your mouth.  You moaned, wanting him to fill you again, wanting to taste his release once more.  This was your communion, his cum was a blessing.  

You’d kneel between his legs all night if that’s what he wanted.

When he finally came, you had to grip his knees tightly again to steady yourself as he ground his hips against you.  It was hard to catch your breath through your nose but you didn’t dare open your mouth.  You didn’t want to miss a single drop of his cum.  He filled your mouth with thick ropes of it and you swallowed it all greedily, moaning as it coated your throat.  When his cock finally stilled you licked it over and over again, cleaning all traces of his release off of it.  You only stopped when he let go of your cheeks and when you glanced up at him he was wearing that lazy smile once more.

“Well, what do you think?  Have you learned your lesson?”

His cock twitched against your tongue when you blinked twice.

The Sexy Adventures of Cardinal Terzo masterlist

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of Our Own ~ My Tip Jar

#my fics #my writing #sexy adventures of cardinal terzo #terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #cardinal terzo #the band ghost fanfiction #terzo fanfiction #terzo x gn reader #ghost band fanfic #terzo fanfic #the band ghost fanfic

[sesshous]

pers: the ultimate wing“man” [freminet x reader]

summary: freminet makes a new friend (you!)

genre: fluff (gn)

a/n: reader isn’t from fontaine, also takes place after 4.2 archon quests (no direct spoilers to anything though),  this fic kicked my ass i started writing this on the NINTH. but i really wanted to get it done because i adore him ♡ (can also be read as platonic despite the title!)

when most people think of the self-proclaimed greatest magician in all of teyvat, lyney, they also thought of his magic assistant, lynette. when most people think of the magic assistant, lynette, they also thought of the once again self-proclaimed greatest magician in all of teyvat, lyney. when most people thought of freminet, they also thought of… diving? he was the most talented diver in all of fontaine, so it was no surprise that it was anyone’s first thought to connect him with the “only thing” he was actually good at (his words, not anyone else's). and for someone who spends more time underwater than on land and is probably in his own shell more than those armoured crabs you’ll find on the shore, it’s unlikely for him to be associated with other people.

there was one individual that some people didn’t consider..

pers.

how could they not think of him? okay, well pers wasn’t a human, but he was freminet’s most trustworthy companion! he practically brought him everywhere, including to his latest diving session. 

half an hour earlier, freminet had accidentally bumped into estelle, who had signalled him over and told him about how her ore supplier didn’t give her enough beryl conches for a project she was working on and requested him to get her some. originally, he had planned on going home since it was so late into the evening, but then he remembered talking with lyney and lynette about ‘wanting to socialise more’. he already finds it difficult to be around estelle with how much she talks, but he thinks that maybe this could be some kind of first step to becoming more comfortable with her. after agreeing to help her out, he set off to fontaine’s shoreline.

freminet was quick with gathering the beryl conches. after he collected enough, he went back to the surface to sort them out, examining them to make sure that they were in good condition. he did have to admit, diving while it was nearing night was pretty relaxing. it was just him, pers and the sea…

which is why he was now suddenly confused when he heard a sudden laugh. there shouldn’t have been nobody else around with how late it was. did he imagine it? he turned around to see where the laugh was coming from, he saw a figure crouched down with.. pers?

pers must have waddled off while he was so focused on the beryl conches... he swears his attention was only off him for a few seconds! freminet’s mind was at a blank here, but even he knows how rude it would look if he just walked up, snatched pers, came up with some excuse to leave and left, but he didn’t know who this person was- he was just concerned for pers safety! but while he was watching, he saw stranger pat pers lightly on the head and boop his beak with their finger, with the penguin flapping his mechanical wings in response. well, they seemed pretty gentle with how they interacted with pers. and he did remember talking to lyney and lynette about wanting to socialise more (that's why he was out diving so late after all), but normally they were both there with him to help guide him through conversations with people he didn’t know… but maybe this time, he could take this chance to try by himself?

quickly putting away the conches in his bag, he stood up, took a deep breath and nervously walked over to where they both were.

“um…” still anxious, he kept his gaze focused in on pers, however from the corner of his eye, he could see the stranger look up at him, with a smile.

“oh, hello! is this lil guy yours?”

“um,” clearing his throat, “hi. yes- yes, well he’s my friend…”

“really? what’s his name?” you moved you head a above pers in order to view his face, making direct eye contact with him. freminet felt his face heat up, quickly looking away.

“oh, it’s pers...”

“pers? that’s cute! i think it suits him.” moving back to your original position and taking pers’ flippers in your hands to lift them up and down slightly.

“thank you…” he glanced back over at you both (at pers, specifically), and stood silently as he watched the two of you play. 

“what were you doing out here?” you questioned.

“i was just diving for beryl conches…” he mumbled.

“beryl conches?!” you perk up. freminet flinched back a bit. he wasn’t expecting that much excitement for beryl conches of all things. “i saw them in the book i was reading about fontaine’s local specialties! they look pretty, i wanted to get one for myself, but i’ve never dived before…”

“oh… there’s someone who sells them in poisson… in the belleau region.”

“but it would be more special if i got one myself, you know?” freminet tilted his head and slightly nodded.

“yeah, i understand what you mean…” he murmured, silence following through. all he could hear now was the gentle tides against the shore and the squawking of some angler gulls. is this silence awkward for you? he feels like he needs to say something to keep the conversation going. you read a book about fontaine’s local specialties? you must be new to fontaine, did you move here? or are you just travelling- no, that’s definitely too personal... how about your favourite colour? or food? but those are boring, are they not? he could also ask you what you were doing out by the shore so late, but is asking the same question back okay? oh wait! your name-

“you mentioned that you were diving, right?” your voice snapped him back to reality, with you now standing up in front of him, holding out your hands with pers in them for him to take. “have you ever taught anyone how to dive?”

“i was diving, yes. and no, never. i don’t really think i would be the best teacher.” he looked down at your hands, reaching out and taking pers from them, face slightly blushing at your fingers making contact. it’s probably not too noticeable (he hopes). but now, he can ask for your name-

“how will you know if you never try?” you asked.

“well- well i guess you’re right, but i don’t know who would want me to-”

“wait, you can teach me! can be your first student?” your eyes lit up.

“i don’t… i don’t think… i…” he’s stuttering now. great, he made a fool of himself! (he didn’t)

“it’s okay if not!” you reassure him, putting up your hands. “i don’t want to pressure you or anything!” freminet shakes his head.

“oh, no- no, um maybe if i don’t have a lot of assignments tomorrow, i could show you the basics?” he clutches pers tighter to his chest.

“really? great!” you clap your hands lightly, “if you’re done collecting beryl couches, want to walk back together with me to the court of fontaine?”

“yes, i’ve finished. and sure, i don’t see why not…” okay! this time he’s really going to ask-

“that sounds awesome- wait!” you put out your hand to stop him. did he do something wrong?  “i forgot to ask you what your name is! i’m sorry!” laughing awkwardly, following up with your name. ah, you also forgot to ask, and your acting this nice towards him without knowing his name? …that puts him a little at ease.

“no worries, it’s freminet.” even he couldn’t help but give a small smile.

“freminet… i like it! you have a really pretty name.” okay his blush was most definitely noticeable now. 

“ah, thank you...” freminet grip on pers lessens.

“alright, let’s go. i’ll let you lead the way!” 

freminet thinks on the walk back, it should be a good time to ask you those questions he thought of earlier. and for once, he really hopes he doesn’t have a lot of diving requests tomorrow.

“wait, i never got the chance to ask you what you were doing out so late”

“i was exploring around fontaine!… and then i got lost exploring around fontaine… but i guess it’s good that i got lost since i got to meet you and pers, right?’

“...yeah, right.”

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #freminet x reader #freminet fluff #genshin fluff #ᰔ works

[hoonslutt]

How would hoon react to his s/o running from the dick in bed😶

I think that he would have a mixed reaction y’know half concern and half satisfaction? Half concern because it’s not like he wanted to hurt you and he doesn’t want to hurt you ever. Then the other half, satisfaction because he likes knowing that he is too big and that you can’t handle it. Even though it was only your second time trying to take his dick and the first time didn’t go that well you literally cried and made him stop halfway bcs he was kinda hurting you. But this time you were determined to take it all even if he had to make you you wanted it, so when he stuck his tip in your heat he looked at your face just to make sure that there was no discomfort or anything in your eyes. You had nodded to signal he could go in a little more and when he was halfway your eyes started tearing up and he wiped your tears and kissed your face, right now he was all concern and love for you. So when you let out a small yes he went even deeper until he was all in, the base of his pelvis touching yours, he was too big and you thought you couldn’t take it and tried pushing him away but he put your hands above your head ‘No baby you have to take it all. I know you can please for me?’ ‘No Hoon too big hurts too much’ he didn’t let your hands go he kept them in place the other wiping your tears away kissing all over your face and neck. He knows he shouldn’t feel this way but something in him like how you were crying and squirming because of him, when you stopped crying you nodded ‘Ok Hoon you can move now but slowly’ so he pulled all the way out and thrusted back in slowly he kept doing that until your face went from scrunched because of the pain to your mouth falling open in pleasure ‘mmm hoonie so big feel so full! Need you to go faster’ thrusting faster he released your hands and they went to your chest pushing you more into the mattress you were now non stop moaning ‘Feels good baby? Love seeing you cry and moan for me’ slowing this thrusts until you were squirming around ‘Hoonie please’ ‘Please what baby?’ You looked so pretty for him all spread out, tear stained face, drool coming down your face he swear he was about to cum right there ‘Want you to fuck me so good make me perfect to take you all the time’ Oh yea he wasn’t going to last any longer.

I don’t think I understood the assignment but this was okay I guess idk how to feel about it. But as always feedback is always welcome and appreciated! Love ya!!💕

#lav! thoughts #lav!s 🍓 #lav! anon💕 #lav! talks #lav! asks #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen smut #enha hard thoughts #enha hard hours #enha smut #sunghoon smut #enhypen sunghoon smut #sunghoon hard hours #park sunghoon hard hours #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon hard thoughts

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Sea shanties" - Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

[mentions of a minor injury and blood]

SUMMARY: Alina catches Sturmhond in a surprising moment of weakness when he's quietly watching you sing to yourself and fix the net.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.7k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist&lt;<

☽ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ☾

The cold wind nips at your exposed skin and part of you beckons you to return under the deck to finish sewing the net back together. But you dread returning among the sailors: despite truly being a lovely bunch, their constant chattering and liveliness can wear you out. The berths and cabins are warm, yes, but the sea is silent, predictable and, most of all, doesn’t expect engagement. As long as you let her be, she leaves you alone in return. Here, where cold wind tugs at your clothes and saltwater spray your face, you can finally take a deep breath and relax your tense shoulders. Stitching the nets is a very monotone, maybe even boring, activity but it’s exactly what you need. Your hands fix the knots on their own, guided by experience, allowing your mind to let go of duties and worries, to slip away into much more pleasant thoughts.

“I’ll wander, weep and moan. All for my jolly sailor, until he sails home,” you sing barely above a whisper. Truthfully, you can’t recall where you learned the song. It’s as if you’ve always known it, the melody haunting you whenever you’re getting lost in thought.

Alina lets out a sigh of relief when she finally finds Sturmhond. For a moment she was really considering whether he could snap his fingers and vanish. He’s leaning against the doorframe but his broad shoulders still block most of the view of the deck. Sturmhond is completely oblivious to her presence and Alina has a bit too much spite in her to let the opportunity go. She quietly approaches him, harbouring a wicked hope that maybe she can scare him and single-handedly rub away that smug smirk of his.

She stops a pace or two behind him, taking in a deep breath to yell right into his ear. "Sturmhond, I-"

But the privateer is quick to silence her:

"Keep your voice down!" he hisses at Alina.

The Sun Summoner frowns at the privateer. Not only did she not scare him but also seems to be interrupting something. And considering his wish to keep things quiet, Sturmhond is doing something he knows he shouldn’t. She stares at him through half-closed eyes, beaming with suspicion, when she hears a faint hum distracting her from constructing some passive-aggressive remark. Alina recognizes your voice, although it sounds a lot softer than what she’s used to. Being the boatswain, you’re mostly heard yelling out orders for the maintenance crew that you’re watching over; forcing seafarers to tie perfect knots, no matter how many tries it takes them and raising Hell for the smallest error in repairing sails. Even if you might come off as harsh, credit is due as Volkvolny’s sails and equipment are kept impeccable. Your discipline has definitely played a significant part in Sturmhond’s successful betrayal of the Black General.

Listening in, over the howling wind and crashing waves, Alina and Nikolai eavesdrop on the sombre song you’re singing quietly to yourself — a story of a woman mourning her lover who never returned from the sea. Despite the heaviness of the words leaving your mouth, your voice is rid of dread as though such a woeful story is nowhere near relatable to you. Alina doesn’t notice that detail but Sturmhond surely does. In fact, it brings him a sense of relief: after all, how could he compete with a dead man for your love? 

A mischievous smile creeps onto Alina’s face as she’s looking between you and Sturmhond. As far as she can tell, you’re completely oblivious to the small audience watching you go about your duties. The sailor, however, is unable to control his soft expression and that lovesick, mellow look in his eyes. To be honest, Sturmhond looks so removed from reality, he might actually be unaware that there are more people in the world than just him and you.

“So, genius privateer Sturmhond, the fright of the sea is in love with the boatswain,” Alina whispers, barely holding in an impish snicker, “but instead of his usual bravado he cowers away, settling for watching her from afar like a creep.”

He seems to ponder her words for a moment, nodding his head ever so slightly. “That is a bit embarrassing, isn’t it?” he asks. Nikolai appears to be well aware of his affliction but rendered powerless in the face of his heart’s desire, he can only accept the state of things.

“I wanted to say pathetic but either way works.”

Sturmhond looks at Alina out of the corner of his eye but only for a moment, unwilling to waste any more time not admiring you. “Wouldn’t it be more pathetic to be the best privateer in all of Ravka’s history but not know love?”

Alina clenches her fists. She puckers her lips, suddenly feeling hot as blood rushes to her face. Saints have mercy - he’s right. The sole act of seeing eye to eye with the blond man isn’t as terrible as the act of admitting it and stroking his ego. “I hate to say it but I agree,” she grits through her teeth.

Nikolai notices her discomfort. He doesn’t hide a certain satisfaction in the effect he has on her - it’s amusing to see her paper mache confidence falter, although he is painfully aware that this will prove problematic later on. “Oh my, I might think you actually tolerate me.”

She forces herself into a contemptuous scowl - it’s a little overdone to be considered natural. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Alina dismisses him.

“You know, I might be an incredible captain and all but without her…” Sturmhond shakes his head. His eyes follow your barely noticeable movements as you weave the net back together. “This whole ship would have already sunk.”

But she doesn’t believe him - not entirely. If she is to believe Tamar, and Alina doesn’t have much reason not to, Sturmhond chose Volkvolny despite having more captain-worthy vessels available. “Somehow, I don’t believe you’d allow that.”

“Right. If she wasn’t on this ship, I wouldn’t be either.”

Alina almost comes to the conclusion that you’re the sole reason he chose Volkvolny to be his flagship but she mostly dismisses that thought - Sturmhond may be doting but he’s far from completely losing his mind. He simply doesn’t give the impression of someone who’d shuffle his life around just to be able to creep on his boatswain. Little did she know at the time but the strangeness and dread the future holds is going to prove her wrong.

Their conversation is halted when one of the sailors on night watch passes by them. Alina recognizes him by the burn mark spreading across the right side of his face. Tolya called him ‘Marquis’. His long, blond hair sway in the cold wind. As he’s carrying a heavy crate from starboard to port, he’s quietly singing along to your song with certain carelessness as though he’s not entirely aware he’s doing it:

“My heart is pierced by Cupid, I disdain all glittering gold. There is nothing can console me-”

Alina yawns. She’s had a long, exciting day and tomorrow is not going to be any easier, that she’s sure of. Whatever she wants to tell Sturmhond will have to wait until dawn when the captain wriggles free of his heart’s restless desires. Even though at first she’s annoyed that she has to wait because Sturmhond decided to play a lovesick teenager, she quickly finds it may be for the best: an in-depth discussion will surely erupt between the two of them and doing so when the moon is high just doesn’t seem like the best idea. Aside from that, she can really use a few more hours of sleep.

The Sun Summoner murmurs something resembling ‘Goodnight’ to Sturmhond and turns around to go back to the room she shares with Tamar, when a great wave shakes the ship, throwing her against a wooden wall. Despite the impact not being exceptionally painful to her, she’s sore anyway, the sound of it carried quite well.

Hearing a thud, you look up out of reflex. Glancing around the deck, your watchful eyes stop on Sturmhond, who’s staring back at you. The privateer gives the impression that you’ve just become privy to a side of him he’s not so keen on showing. Perhaps ‘side’ doesn’t quite mirror the idea. ‘Layer’ seems more fitting. It’s as though he dropped the facade of quick wit and evasive answers, only to show the exhaustion of a man carrying the world on his shoulders for a day too long. Despite the silence and distance between you, this staring feels intimate; both of you are showing something raw to one another in the gullible hope that the other will keep it secret.

He appears different, more calm than smug, than he does during the day, although still beautiful enough to make you flustered. Truly, he looks like he breaks the hearts of naive girls for a living. Despite that, as well as your experience with sailors in general, you found yourself craving his attention. Whether it’s intentional or not, Sturmhond has the ability to make people feel seen and their efforts acknowledged. Considering that establishing your position among sea dogs as a woman is a real challenge, maybe it was your hurt ego that clawed at any possibility or delusion of your exceptionalism. And maybe the privateer never intended for you to be hopelessly in love with him. Sure, the two of you have flirted back and forth but you never assumed it means as much to him as it does to you. It’s just the way he is, right?

A sharp, stinging pain in your finger makes you yelp. Discarding fantasies about the blond man in an awful frock coat, you look at your sore hand, now noticing a drop of crimson slowly rolling down your skin.

“Well, shit,” you whisper to yourself.

You put the bleeding finger against your lips. It’s a small cut, it shouldn’t bleed longer than a minute or two and then you can get back to-

“Are you alright?”

Sturmhond’s worried tone elicits mixed but engaging feelings from you. On one hand, you’re giddy at any crumb of attention he gives you. On the other hand, you just failed at the second easiest maintenance job a ship can have - one Hell of a way to make a good impression on the captain that always seems to fall on four paws.

“Yeah, just pricked my finger with a needle fixing the net. Nothing fatal.”

“Why are you doing this anyway? You’re a boatswain. This is a deckhand’s job,” he says as he grabs the net from your hands and tosses it aside.

“Believe it or not but I actually enjoy this. It’s peaceful, helps me get my mind off of things.”

He gives you a cocky half-grin. “Pricking your finger is just a tasteful addition, I presume?”

“Oh, you know, just trying to enrich things,” you joke back.

Sturmhond lets out a quiet, resigned sigh. Of course, you told everyone to go to sleep and finished the odd jobs yourself. “Have Tamar look at this,” he says in a soft voice. Despite the suddenly mild demeanour, his smug expression stays in place. “I’ll get someone else to finish.”

“Alright, captain,” you reluctantly agree. “But can it wait a few minutes? I like it here.”

Your gaze returns to the sapphire waves and black firmament, the line of horizon barely distinguishable between them. To your own surprise, Sturmhond sits down next to you on a barrel. “Just a few,” he says insincerely. You may not know it but he’s willing to sit there with you for much longer than a few minutes. 

Volkvolny bobs on the waves, headed somewhere in the South-East direction. Cold water sprays on your face and clothes but you don’t mind it. It’s quite refreshing. Only now do you notice how quiet the ship is. Most of the crew must already be asleep, revelling in the few hours of rest they have until dawn. The thought of sleeping sailors makes you aware of your own exhaustion, both physical and mental.

You barely stifle a yawn. Too tired to think twice, you lay your head against Sturmhond’s shoulder. He doesn’t shy away, quite the contrary - he wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer to his torso ever so slightly. He smells like expensive, imported cologne and seaweed. The fragrance is hardly likable but you’ve grown to earn some masochistic pleasure from it simply because it belongs to him. The blue frock coat he’s wearing feels nice against your skin.

“Why do you always sing that song?” he asks after a few minutes of silence.

“I always sing or hum doing manual jobs. It’s a habit I can’t kill,” you answer quietly. It’s hard to keep your eyes open and you can hear your words starting to slur. “I grew up in Novokribirsk. I know a lot of shanties.”

“Know anything happier than mourning a sailor?”

“Hardly,” you let out a tired chuckle. “Somehow, sailors have an aversion to happy songs. There’s one you might like.” You clear your throat, trying to recall the song from your cloudy, tired memories. “I’m a broken man on the Os Kervo pier, the last of Ravka’s privateers.”

Sturmhond furrows his eyebrows and he shakes his head in disapproval. “No, it’s still depressing.” Whether he means to or not, his finger is gently brushing circles against your arm.

“Alright, another one, um… Oh! Don’t haul on the ropes, don’t climb up the mast. If you see a sailing ship, it might be your last.”

“Ominous and tedious. I’m actually surprised you can put both in one song.”

To Sturmhond’s dissatisfaction, you pull away from him. Still, the distance between you is considerably small and you feel each other’s breaths on your skin. With half-lidded eyes out of exhaustion, you give him a wide smile. His breath shakes in his chest.

“You know, you might be the most optimistic sailor I’ve ever met,” you confess.

He could kiss you right now. Saints only know how much he wants to. If the odds are in his favour, and his vanity would like to think they are, you might even kiss him back. Or at least not slap him. Would your lips feel soft and warm against his? Would you taste of saltwater and rye bread like he always imagines? Would you giggle nervously after? In that specific way that makes him forget to breathe?

But Sturmhond can only hope your tired mind can’t compute his nervousness. “Does that title come with a prize?”

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Is being the most optimistic sailor truly worth such honour?” he says in an overly dramatic tone. He jokingly puts his hand on his chest. “Are you not underestimating your presence, my lady?”

“You get extra credit because I like you. A lot.” 

Sturmhond swallows nervously. Since when does he get nervous around women? For a moment you’re just staring at each other again. The desire to push his lips against yours is back flooding his mind, now stronger and more desperate than before. The first chance might have been a coincidence but the second… He slowly leans in, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. But you look just as lovely as you did in the morning. His nose almost brushes yours and-

“I might have a happy one,” you suddenly speak up. You look back at the sea, furrowing your eyebrows in deep thought. “Saints, how did it go?” you whisper to yourself. “Prick your finger, it is done. Roll her out and spread her wings, the time has come for better things.”

Having mastered self-control, Sturmhond doesn’t make his disappointment visible. The third time’s the charm, right? “First one that doesn’t make me want to drown myself.” The bitterness in his voice is almost inaudible but you’re too tired to notice.

“I’ll sing you the whole thing but that has to wait until morning, alright?”

“I’m holding you to that.”

His heart quickens its beat when you lay your head back on his shoulder. He should probably tell you to go back to your berth and get some sleep but maybe it can wait a few minutes? He likes it here.

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone x reader #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai x reader #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #nikolai lantsov x reader #sturmhond #sturmhond fanfiction #nikolai lanstov #shadow and bone netflix #sturmhond x reader #sturmhond x you #sturmhond imagine #nikolai lantsov my beloved #nikolai lantsov fic #nikolai lantsov x you #shadow and bone x you

[star2fishmeg]

Do you take requests ? If yes, can i request smth Yuken x reader ? Just something to warm up my heart kckdkf thank you <33

ᴘᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴍ

Pairing: Odajima Yuken x afab!reader

Summary: y/n visits Housen with a compelling offer for her bf, Yuken, and to him, an open bedroom window is an invitation to accept that offer

Warnings: 18+ smut, ooc Yuken probs, Yuken’s glasses are prescription (personal hc), reader implied to be shorter, making out, cunnilingus, pet names (princess, doll, dollface, cumslut), reader is a cumslut, tit sucking and fucking, swearing, reading is on birth control, lemme know if I missed any!

Authors note: this is so self-indulgent fr bc I love Yuken sm. This is my first time writing Yuken so be nice pretty pls xx ignore the fact this has been in my inbox for over a year, I’m so sorry and thank you for the patience <3

Request: above!

She leant against the doorframe, watching Yuken and Monji spar like they did most days for some reason. These high school gangs rocked up to battle all rough and tough, but behind the scenes they were just a group of idiots with empty heads most the time. Upon noticing her figure, Yuken freed Monji, stood up and made his way over, lips tugged into a smirk with sweat glistening on his skin.

“If you wanted to wrestle naked,” she muttered, voice vibrating through his ears in a sweet but arousing sensation. Her finger poked the valley between his pecs, doe eyes boring up into his. His chest heaved, heart pounding from the exercise but also from the proximity of his body and hers. She gently trailed her fingertip down his abs with feathery touches, his skin feeling as if it were being lit like a fire, and hooked it in the waistband of his trousers, harshly tugging him closer into her, chests millimetres away. His eyes flicked from hers to her lips as they ghosted each other, he wasn’t sure if the heat in his cheeks was from the beguiling look in her eyes and the sultry tone of her voice or from his long-forgotten activity before she arrived, “You could’ve asked me first.” Y/n gave a teasing smile before letting his waistband go, spinning on her heal and walking back through the hallway, swaying her hips as she left.

__

Slamming the bedroom door shut, not intentionally but after a long day of school and the stuffy train from Housen, not a care could be given. Her parents weren’t home anyway, who would be bothered by the noise? Y/n threw her bag onto floor, at the bottom of her desk as usual, in its spot that had been given since elementary. It’s funny how you claim a spot as a kid and stick with it until adulthood, even now at eighteen, she still followed the same routine of dumping her bag, followed by flopping onto her sheets to be pleasantly engulfed by the cool temperature and then groan all the frustrations of the day out. Obviously then followed by the dose of social media, who doesn’t do that? And anyone who doesn’t do that after 6 hours of mind-numbing education is a liar. Usually.

A heavy exhale followed by sluggishly heaving herself from the bed, she drew the curtains and stripped down from the stiff fabrics of her uniform. How could anyone keep it on longer than they had to, too hot, too cold, it was never just right. She rummaged through her drawers for anything comfier, even if her underwear was unconventionally comfy at least a t-shirt would be safer.

“You shouldn’t leave your window open when you change, doll.” Y/n dropped her head, giggling at his voice, words spilling from his lips like honey, just as she liked it.

Making her way over slowly, she pulled the curtain aside ever so slightly to see Yuken grinning at her, leaning against the windowsill, standing comfortably on the utility room roof. Unlike before, his hair was kept loose with his sunglasses tucked between the top button of his shirt, lenses cracked. It was the perfect way to enter her bedroom window and sneak out, not that either of them was aware that y/n’s parents knew when Yuken was over; the change in bin placement gave it away. All he had to do was hope the back gate was unlocked, climb the bins, and hoist himself onto the overhang and bob’s-your-uncle, he could climb through, the roof was flat anyway.

“Why? So, pervs like you can’t watch me?” she grinned back, “How much did you see? Not that you can see much without those glasses.” She flicked the accessory around his neck in amusement.

Adjusting himself and stepping into the room, swinging one leg over at a time, he stood over her frame, tucking her hair behind her ears, “The moment the bottoms hit the floor and I got the perfect view of your cute arse.” His palms slid down the curve of her waist over her backside, sliding under the panties to cup the globes of flesh.

He closed in for a tender kiss to her lips. A saccharine kiss, slow and steady, smaller hands reaching to his face and settling on his nape, keeping him as if were to dissolve while his roamed her hips and waist. “Mm,” she moaned, pulling back for a breath, “My personal Peeping Tom. I don’t mind if it's you.” She dove back into his lips, faster and deeper, his tongue sliding over her bottom lip to greet hers in a dance of their own. Fingers slid to the collar of his blazer, gliding it off his shoulders and letting it drop to the floor before starting to remove the glasses and unbutton his shirt, pulling the buttons one by one with a lingering touch against his skin. Yuken pressed his forehead against her head, watching her toy with his shirt, his skin tingling and becoming impatient and fidgety. But he kept his breathing heavy, lips creeping into a smirk as she reached the final button, and her hands once again found comfort on his chest, tracing the outlines of his abs.

“Yanno, I actually came to take up that request,” he murmured, her eyes peering up at him with a devilish teasing. God, she looked good from above, his cock twitched just at the thought of cumming on her tits, “Wrestling with you sounds so much better. Want those legs wrapped around me so bad. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about it.” With his shirt falling to the floor with the blazer, she looped her fingers around his belt loops and shoved her pelvis against his, his warm palms grabbing the back of her neck with a dizzying desperation as teeth chattered in a sloppy kiss. Not that either of them cared though, when did kissing in a clean way matter when it came to lust?

Stumbling, the back of Yuken’s legs knocked against the bed, sending them tumbling into the sheets and tongues skating and sucking each other with saliva drooling from lips. He gripped her hips, pulling at panties and gliding his hands up the curve of her back and waist.

He pulled away, y/n panting and tucking strands of hair behind her ears, “How much time we got, dollface?” His voice low and vibrated through his chest. She brought her knees up to straddle his lap, palms roaming his naked torso as his eyes raked her figure, smirking as he visualised sliding his dick through her cleavage.

“Two hours.” She panted, chest rising and falling. She cocked a smirk at his wandering gaze, unhooking the clasp and throwing her bra somewhere across the room, “You have two hours.” And with that he flipped her over, letting his knees hit the carpet and placing her legs over his shoulder, nipping, and kissing her inner thighs as her face inflamed. Yuken slipped his fingers around the hem of her panties, sliding them down her legs and discarding them with the other garments. He took the opportunity to knead the flesh on her thighs, nose brushing against her clit as he kitten licked the arousal, y/n’s mouth dropping and let a whine slip past her lips at her pulsing cunt. She carded her nails through his hair, giving the roots a tug before his licks became relentless and languid, every contact of his muscle jolted her nerves.

He looked so pretty from her view, blond locks buried between her thighs, squeezing when he swirled and nipped her clit. “Fuck! More!”. The simple instructions had his palm pressed flat on her stomach, tongue lapping deeper into her folds and a finger entering and pumping with every moan that left her lips.

“Doin’ so well, Princess.” He mumbled against her clit. Y/n threw her head back into the sheets as he dove back in, thumb rubbing her nub and a second finger entering and thrusting. His tongue lapped again, devouring like a starved man, and humming as if he were pleased with his meal.

Guttural moans filled the room, his rhythmic curling and pumping of his fingers clouding her head with a burst of overwhelming pleasure knowing he was far from done. He pried her legs open more with his free hand, taking a short moment admire the melodies filling his ears, hot breath fanning over the vulnerable folds in which still had his digits abusing them.

Through the unintelligible noises, blank mind, and tight knot in her stomach devastatingly constricting, she managed to cry out, sweat beads glistening across her temples, “Let me cum, please!”

“Let me taste you, doll.” And with that being enough permission needed, her thighs locked around his head, Yuken’s hands securing them. His favourite place to suffocate, he got a pillow and a meal in one, how could he ever be so ungrateful when he had that in his fingertips. Unsure if she could hold out any longer, her back arched up and propped herself up on her elbows and jesus fucking christ did she regret that: watching his head bob with every long drag of his tongue just about withered her limbs back against the mattress as she released for him to slurp and devour every drop, pulling his fingers out and letting the cum paint her skin as he pulled her legs apart to clean the plate completely. Y/n’s body went limp, chest heaving and sweat dripping down her skin. With the clink of a belt buckle fumbling, she let out a weak giggle, slightly propping herself onto her elbows.

"God, you're so beautiful," the rest of his clothes pooling at his ankles and being kicked across the room. Y/n positioned herself against the pillows, Yuken straddling her waist, "Don't be shy now, I know you have a good pair of lungs in you." He smirked. Gently placing a palm on her jaw, and drew his face towards hers, noses ghosting,

“Yu’, don’t be too rough, there can’t be any marks.” He connected their lips again, groans and hums seeping from throats while tongues stirred a concoction of saliva and a different found source of edging pleasure every time his dick brushed against her slit. Yuken’s other hand groped her breast, rolling the pebbled nipple between his thumb and pointer finger while whines filled the void of the room. They pulled away for a breath, saliva still holding on by a string until he took her nipple into his mouth, his tongue giving it a swipe to have her grip his hair. Every swipe and nip were intentional, just to bring out her mewls that differed in pitch and length before moving to the other, just to suck and grope to send just as many pulses through her nerves. The way his throaty groans alone were enough to send her over the edge was something she only ever thought could happen in her class daydreams, but the more he toyed and kissed her chest, the more she felt herself become wet all over again. He released her tit with a breathy chuckle, giving the flesh a final peck before leaving a trail of butterfly kisses up the column of her neck to her temple.

With a long, warm kiss to her neck, Yuken lined himself up to be swallowed by her walls, y/n’s jaw dropping to release a sigh of relief, head sinking back into the pillows as he bottomed out. His fingers took home on her hips, almost leaving bruises with encouragement of how she squeezed his cock so blissfully.

“Yuken, please fuck me already!” She wrapped her arms around his neck while he began to roll his hips into her, legs locking around his hips. That gesture, locking around him had some sort of carnal affect that made his thoughts wild; she wanted him, just him to be that close in owning every inch of her pussy. He didn’t think he could become any harder than he initially was until he laid eyes upon her expression, how her head was thrown back and her mouth so lax that every moan and whine that that matched his thrusts was impossible to muffle, even with his tongue down her throat. The way her tits bounced as his pace quickened, he couldn’t feel an ounce of remorse when her nails tore into his back the way they were.

“Sh-shit-feels so good!” she hissed, smashing her lips to his into a sloppy but brief kiss, “Faster,” Yuken pulled one of her legs from his hip over his shoulder, hitting a new spot with a whole other ascending feeling that sent her to heaven and back, “Right there!”

Sitting back onto his knees, he watched her arms drop from his shoulders and grab the sheets, twisting them in various ways, his hands still gripping her hips ravenously as he watched himself slip from inside her before grinning and slamming his cock back into her cunt like his mind was in nothing but carnal heat. He kept pushing y/n’s leg towards her, knee mere inches away from her face and he kept his rhythm and threw his head back groaning at the slapping of his skin against hers. If anyone were to return home, if the bins hadn’t given it away, the song their bodies sang surely would’ve.

“Yuken!” She wailed, back arching off the bed, feeling his cock split her into two.

“That’s it doll, who’s fucking you?” Each penetrating sending her closer to heaven, words became incoherent and a struggle to get out as her body slacked. The pit in her stomach warmed again, knotting and painfully desperate for release.

“Let me cum, I..I’m gonna cum!” Yuken, who was a little further from release, just groaned,

“Cum on my cock, doll. Do it.” She mewled, her body shuddering with her orgasm and a multitude of feelings surging straight to her head. Her boyfriend’s pounding didn’t stop, his hips continued to snap into her pelvis, balls slapping as his eyes watched her cum lube up his cock.

“Yuken?” Y/n panted, eyes half-lidded and her hands pushing her pretty tits together, “Fuck my tits. I know you want to.”

“My favourite cumslut,” He chortled, pulling himself out of her seeping hole and slipping his cock between her tits, “That’s it, doin’ s’well.” His hands placed themselves over hers, his thrusting losing its rhythm and becoming vigorous as he finally felt himself close. His body elated, his week would be made complete just by seeing her painted by him and she’d thrive off it. He could sleep well knowing he’d be leaving his mark on his girl, his love.

“I’m close, baby.” He panted.

“Cum on me, claim me, please!” Y/n sighed, giving a tired smile. No more than a few ruts later, thick, white ropes spilled over her tits. Both their hands releasing her chest, letting Yuken’s dick paint her.

Almost rolling off her body, Yuken flopped next to her, pulling y/n into his sweaty chest, and placing a short peck to her head, “We should wrestle more.”

2023 © STAR2FISHMEG All rights reserved - do not plagiarise, translate, repost, or copy any of my works. If you notice that any of these have been done to my work, please let me know.

H&L harem (if you wanna be tagged/removed in future H&L content, just lemme know :D);

@straysugzhpe @airbendertendou @strxwberrychocolate @rouzuchan @yuken-gf @rinwhore @simpforchuchu @thatpoindexterpixy @rainisawriter

[Masterlist]

[Requests CLOSED]

#high&low #high&low x reader #high&low the worst #highandlow #high and low #high&low the worst x cross #odajima yuken #odajima yuken x reader #yuken odajima #yuken odajima x reader #high&low the worst x reader #high&low the worst x cross x reader

[sweaterweatherever]

Heyyy, could you do a Ajax imagine with the soulmates theme ?? with the tattoo idea of soulmates. I would love if you write more of him

Four-letter word (Ajax Petropolus x Reader)

Pairing: Ajax Petropolus x Fem Reader, Wednesday Addams x Enid Sinclair (Lightly, mostly insinuated)

Warnings: Cursing. Insecurities, mental health issues, googling symptoms.

A/N: I thought so much about this. Like, before falling asleep, on the bus. I still don’t think I ironed all the kinks of how a universe like this would work, but it was a lovely experience. Also, send more Ajax requests, I love writing him.

Requested: Yes. I loved writing this, anon you are amazing! I would love to write more of him, too.

One night, when you were six years old, you had woken up crying and screaming from a pain so intense in your arm you thought you were burning up. You had screamed your little throat raw. Once the pain subsided, your mother had appeared on your doorstep, all happy and proud.

“It’s your soulmate.” She had told you, pulling your arm to show you how above the inside of your elbow, was an ugly handwriting, with an even uglier phrase. “It’s… It’s… Don’t worry about it, baby. We’ll get something to cover it up.”

There weren’t many girls with soulmate’s identifying marks. You couldn’t help but stare, every time you saw another girl changing after gym class. Most of them had immaculate skin, whereas you got a tattoo. Apparently, that made you lucky. You didn’t feel lucky, with those crude words engraved on your arm. You had taken to covering the tattoo, ashamed of what others could think. Was it so terrible a destiny to be your soulmate that they had to say that when seeing you for the first time?

What kind of person was your soulmate? You guessed he was a boy, with the ugly chicken scrawls that adorned your arm. Or it could be a girl, maybe a doctor? But the words were hateful, insulting even. It didn’t speak of a mature person, you guessed you would meet them when you were still young.

The words stayed with you as the years passed, gnawing at you, diminishing your self-confidence. Every time you saw them in the mirror, you wondered if it was such a terrible fate to be tied to you. What could possibly be so wrong about you that the person who was supposed to be made for you didn’t want you and felt such rejection at meeting you?

Your teenage years weren’t easy. Despite your hopes of meeting your soulmate when still young, with the secret hope you could excuse their lack of tact due to their age, the time never came. You made it until junior year before resigning yourself to meeting a mature person who hated you so much they needed to say that.

Then, the visions started. You kept touching stuff and seeing disturbing things at seemingly random patterns. Maybe this was it, you guessed. This was what repulsed your soulmate so much. You had to be going crazy. You didn’t dare tell your parents, fearing being sent away to some sort of institution. Of course, being you, you did exactly what you shouldn’t and looked the symptoms in google. You promptly diagnosed yourself with schizophrenia.

Junior year was hard. All this pressure of choosing a mayor, a college, doing extracurriculars on top of your weird hallucinations and your fear of meeting your soulmate and them hating you, it was really eating at you. Your parents noticed soon, and when confronted with the question “Is everything okay?” You couldn’t help but blurt it all out. Your parents had been concerned, rightfully so, and taken you to a doctor. Thing was, you weren’t schizophrenic, you were something else. An outcast.

Outcast. The word tasted foreign in your tongue, like something you would hear used to refer to others, never you. Your parents were normal. You were not. Was your soulmate like you? Or were they so disgusted because they didn’t like outcasts?

Off to Nevermore you went, for your senior year. They would be able to help you there, your parents had explained. They would teach you to get your powers under control, and you would meet people like you. People like you. You wondered when your parents had decided there was a divide between you and them, when they had decided you were some other kind of people.

Thinking about things too much made you sad, so when the principal introduced you to your new roommate, you decided you were being given a chance that not many people got: The ability to start from zero, to be whoever you wanted to be. And this new you, she didn’t overthink.

“Hi.” You extended your hand to the girl, noticing her blouse. “My name is Y/N. I like the collar of your shirt.”

The girl brightened considerably.

“Oh, thank you. I got it thrifting! My name is Yoko.”

“Oh, you thrift?” You asked her, looking at her outfit with renewed interest. “You must have some pretty interesting pieces, then. They don’t make clothes as they used to.”

“Yeah! Want me to show you?” Yoko didn’t wait for a reply, opening her dresser. “Here, look. I got this one for only two dollars! And it’s original…”

That was how your friendship with Yoko was formed, bonding over cute clothes. You came to learn many valuable things from her. First, the best spots at Jericho. Which stores had the cheapest and prettiest clothes, which bookstore was the one to go if you wanted a romance novel, and where to go if you needed a textbook. Second, how Nevermore actually worked, and how outcasts related to each other during their teenage years. But the most important one: You weren’t a freak or unlovable.

It had happened accidentally, really. You had been coming out of the shower, only in your towel, but with the band firmly placed over your soulmate tattoo.

“You can take it off here.” She had said, pointing at it. “We are different from normies, most of us have one.”

“Oh?” You asked, fiddling casually with your wet hair. You would rather not take it off. If you did, Yoko would see what your soulmate thought of you and maybe wouldn’t want to be your friend anymore. Who wanted to befriend a loser who not even her soulmate liked?

“Yeah, from what I know, in our year only Wednesday doesn’t have one. But that's okay. She still found hers, Enid has her words on her arm.” Yoko lifted her shirt to show a pretty cursive that looped around her bicep. It read: The moon pales next to your beauty, miss. It was still in the black writing, anyone who had not met their soulmate yet had. Of course, someone as cool as Yoko got a cute remark from her soulmate, and you were stuck with yours.

“I still… I don’t want to… Mine is not as nice.” You said to her. Yoko rolled down her shirt sleeve, placing her sunglasses on top of her head. She looked much like an old lady preparing to read something in a tiny letter. You wondered if her sunglasses were for more than shielding her eyes from the sunlight and had a prescription too.

“Oh, god. What, they insult you?” Yoko laughed. At your serious expression, she gave your hand an encouraging squeeze. “Because believe me, I have seen some pretty bad ones. Enid’s arm says: I break out into hives, and then the flesh peels off my bones. Can you top that?”

Pacified at the fact she wasn’t laughing at you, you took off the band. Yoko stared.

“That bad?” You laughed nervously.

“No! I have seen worse!” Yoko hurried to reassure you. Her hand grabbed your arm, turning it, so the writing faced her more. She squinted at it, a frown on her perfect eyebrows. “It’s just… I think I know the handwriting.”

Butterflies took residence on your stomach. You could be meeting them soon. The person who was made for you. You stomped on the butterflies harshly. They didn’t like you, so why get all giggling and excited? It was not going to go well, your first meeting.

“Oh?” You asked, feigning disinterest. Fake it till you make it, you said to yourself. One day, you would outgrow your childish want for a soulmate, but for now, you could pretend you didn’t care.

“I have seen it, but I can’t remember where. I think one of the boys in our year? Or maybe… I don’t know, at home? I have many cousins, could be one of them?”

But Yoko didn’t remember, and the topic got dropped in favor of something else. You thought she had forgotten, except when she introduced you to Enid, she did by saying you were the one with the soulmate in your year.

“Here, show her!” Yoko said, excitedly. “Show your arm to Enid.”

You took a look at the café. It was pretty quiet, no other students in sight. You rolled up your sleeve, showing her your arm. Enid’s hands grabbed yours, almost too roughly. Her excitement was evident, nervous energy pouring off her in waves.

Your breath hitched… Could it really be that easy? Enid could be the key to finally meeting your soulmate?

“Of course, I know the writing!” Enid clapped, excitedly. Her soulmate, Wednesday, only gave a nod. You guessed that must mean approval, since she didn’t talk a lot. “She is Ajax’s. Look at the letters. Only he can write that poorly.”

Ajax. So, that was his name. Your soulmate. The one who will reject you. It didn't feel real. A mix of excitement and dread filled your stomach. You are sure it showed in your face because Yoko grabbed your hand between hers.

“Ajax?” Yoko squeezed firmly, smiling. “Oh my god, makes total sense. You are way too pretty for him, really. He is a lucky guy.”

“Thank you.” You beamed at her, fluttering your lashes for good measure. Yoko was fun to tease. She didn't disappoint, making a kissy face at you. “I don’t think I know him, is he in our year?”

“Yeah, he is the tall one who sits next to Kent in History.” Yoko said. You gave her a blank look. “Umm, always wears a beanie and matching hoodie?”

“Yoko, you are literally describing half the gorgons.” Enid leaned more towards you, eyes widening. "Look, he has dark eyes and brows, and his mouth kinda looks like Tom Holland’s.”

You stared some more. So, a guy. A guy and a gorgon, with dark eyes and awful writing. Tall, too. And made total sense he went around cursing and talking shit. A douche. Ew.

“Just show her his socials already.” Wednesday said, rolling her eyes. Apparently, she was the person with more brain cells on the table because both Yoko and Enid scrambled to pull out their phones and show you.

“Here.” Enid said, pointing out a boy in one of the pictures. He was… Cuter than you expected. He had a kind face, too.

“Oh, he is cute.” You muttered. And he was. You liked the way he smiled, all dimples and boyish charm. He had a regular sense of fashion, at least he didn’t look homeless. It was strange, looking at this person and thinking: This is my soulmate, this person was made for me. It didn’t feel real.

“Another basic white boy, really. But you could do worse.” Yoko peered over your shoulder. “He is nice, but tends to put his foot in his mouth.”

“He is…” Wednesday lowered her voice, like a kid saying a dirty word. “Cheery.”

“Ugh, disgusting really.” Enid poked her in the ribs. Then, she turned to look at you. “Come on, let’s go talk to him.” And without even letting you roll your shirt down, she started dragging you back towards the school.

Soon, you two ended up in a place unfamiliar to you. The dorms for the boys looked similar to the girls, but much more run down and different at the same place. You worried a teacher might spot you, but Enid seemed to know her way around them, twisting and ducking into mostly empty hallways.

“Enid… I don’t think this is a good idea…” Truth was, you weren’t sure you wanted to meet him. You needed time to mentally prepare for the rejection that was soon to follow. At least you were wearing cute clothes, but if you had known you were meeting your soulmate today, you would have put on something cuter than jeans and a sweater. To look better… Even if you were getting rejected. “My mark isn't…”

“Oh, I read it. I’m sure it must be a misunderstanding. Maybe he swears so much because he thinks you are too pretty.” And with that, she was pounding on one of the doors. You cringed, eyeing the empty hallway. You could always make a run for it, even if you didn’t know the way back to your dorm. Someone would surely step on your path and you could get directions.

“Ajax! I know you are in there.” Enid screamed, knocking again.

“Wait, Enid! I’m coming.” A voice said. It was a nice voice, you guessed. He sounded impatient, so you guessed that was going to prompt the rejection.

“Hurry! There is someone you need to meet.”

“Give me a second!” But Enid wasn’t in a waiting mood, and so, with surprising strength, she pushed the door open and shoved you inside.

The last thing you heard when you came face to face with a very naked, terrified looking boy with serpents for hair was

“Shit! What the hell are you doing here?! Get out!” Your last conscious thought before ending petrified was that at least, he wasn’t rejecting you.

The voices were the first thing you noticed. Enid, high and airy, Yoko in her no nonsense tone and a boy, sounding terrified. At first, you didn’t remember what happened, your whole body felt rigid and achy, like if you had a very intense workout session. Opening your eyes didn’t give you any clues, either. The ceiling looked just like any other, and you were unable to take in more details because your eyes felt full of sand. You pressed the heels of your hands against them. God, what the hell?

“How could you just push her in? Enid, I petrified her!” That voice… Ajax. Oh god, you didn’t know if you wanted to laugh or cry. Your soulmate had petrified you! But, he sounded concerned, even if he was being a little loud for your taste. Still, it wasn’t a rejection, the petrification hadn’t been on purpose. The thought made you feel all kinds of warm. Maybe there was hope for you two.

“Yeah, Enid. What the hell?” Yoko. That was Yoko. And by her tone of voice, she was going to give Enid the tongue lashing of her life.

“It was always going to happen! I took a risk! And I…” By her tone of voice, she was panicking. They were near your bed, you could feel the chairs shifting when they moved. You tried to reach for one of them on the left side, but your hand only met concrete.

“What? No, that’s not how it works!” Ajax raised his tone, and this time, you followed his voice, grasping desperately at some part of his body. You could feel cotton scrunching under your fingers, he was sitting on your right. Good to know he had gotten dressed, you didn’t want to see so much of your soulmate on your first meeting as you had seen already. Even if, from what you remembered, he was cute.

“Shut up! My head fucking hurts!” You complained. At hearing your voice, they all paused. You heard Ajax take a shuddering breath. Were those his words? Oh, god, and you thought yours were bad.

“Oh, thank god.” The boy leaned down, pushing a few strands of hair off your face. He was in a panic, words tumbling out of his mouth with seemingly no filter. It was surprisingly endearing. “How are you feeling? I’m so sorry, I… I would have never petrified you if I knew you were my soulmate. Not like I go around petrifying people who aren’t my soulmate, I just meant… I would have been more careful. No, fuck, I don’t mean…”

You weren’t sure what to say to all that, so you did the best next thing.

“Shut up.” You squeezed his arm, eyes still closed. Too afraid of the pain, you didn’t dare open them again. This had to be the oddest sensation of your life. Your muscles felt all rigid, your joints ached, and you were in the middle of an emotional turmoil big enough to leave PMS to shame.

“Do you want me to get you anything? Water? Food? More pillows?” He offered, more quietly this time. “I’m sorry, again.”

“That’s okay.” You answered, still groggy.“I… You are…”

“Ajax. Ajax Petropolus.” He paused, almost if he didn’t know what to say, if he was allowed to. His voice lowered, almost to a whisper. “Your soulmate.”

“I think this is a talk you need to have in private…” Enid said, and you heard her get up. “Come on, Yoko.”

“But what if he…?” Your eyes stayed closed, but you could feel Ajax tense up at your side. The insinuation seemed to offend him.

“Go, Yoko.” You said to her. Yoko made a huffing noise.

“Are you scared?” Ajax asked, removing his hand from you. “Because… She can stay, if you would be more comfortable.”

“No.” You answered. “Yoko, go.” You heard her standing up and leaving the room. Ajax shifted in his seat. Why did he think you were scared?

“But your eyes…” Ajax said, and you almost snorted. Did he think you didn’t dare look at him?

“They hurt. Feels like sand all over them.” You explained, pressing your hands to your eyes once again.

“Oh, that’s, that’s my fault. I have petrified myself before…” You smiled at that, and his voice brightened considerably. “When your eyes are open, they dry out. I can get you water, if you like, but it will go away on its own.”

“Yeah.” And, sure, it was a lame answer, but what else were you supposed to say? This wasn’t what you had been expecting, not at all. You thought he would be repulsed by you, for some reason, not all sweet and caring. Certainly, it never crossed your head he would petrify you.

“I understand if you want me to….” Ajax offered, trailing off like it was too painful to even finish the sentence. Was he thinking of leaving? Because he thought you didn’t want him? “But I want you to know, before I leave that you are the most precious thing to me. You are gorgeous, and I have seen you in class, you are smart as hell. Maybe I don’t deserve you, but I would never hurt you on purpose.”

“No!” You grasped blindly for his arm. You didn’t want him to leave. Ajax pressed his hand into yours. “Stay. I have thought all my life you were going to reject me.” You confessed, eyes still firmly shut. You didn't want to see his face when you asked, too scared of his reaction. “This is not that?”

“No! I… I could never… I would love to take you on a date, if you let me.” The confession made you almost sing with joy. You felt his hand on your hair, absentmindedly carding the strands back. You sighed in contentment.

“Okay.” You answered him, risking opening your eyes just to look at him. The pain had lowered significantly. He had the prettiest smile you had ever seen. “Take me out on a date. I would love that.”

“Tomorrow. For today… Can I watch over you?” Ajax was still smiling. You wondered if you looked as lovesick as him, as your mouth stretched into a smile.

“Might not be the best company. Tired.” Ajax seemed unable to resist touching you again, this time stroking your hair. Your eyes closed out of their own accord.

“Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up. And… Sorry again.”

“It’s fine.” You slurred, turning in the bed to face him. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For wanting me.”

“Oh, love, there is no world in which I wouldn’t want you.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you snuggled more under the covers. You drifted off, happy and safe.

#my writing #wednesday netflix #ajax petropulus x y/n #ajax petropulus x you #ajax petropolus x reader #ajax petropolus imagine #ajax petropolis x reader #ajax petropolus x you #ajax petropolus #ajax petropolis x you #ajax x you #ajax petropulus #ajax petropulus x reader #ajax petropulus imagines #cant stop thinking about the spelling anon #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #yoko tanaka

[minisugakoobies]

I have ALSO been thinking about your bff's brother San...... Where have they got to? Did OC go? How happy was San to see her? Have they done the fucking boink yet??? 🤣

Moni, ILY 💜 I am still slowly working on BFF’s lil bro San and OC’s story! I’m writing it out of sequence, so yes, they have boinked 🤣 And he is always happy to see her 🥰 but maybe you would like to look at a moment I finished recently?

Warnings: shirtlessness (for both), nipple play

As soon as the door is closed, San pounces. You yelp in surprise as he pushes you down on the couch, nudging your legs apart to lay between them.

He does that thing that you love, where someone reaches behind their head and pulls their shirt off in one smooth motion, and you bite your lip, eyes immediately going to his bare shoulders. You remember the first time you saw him without a shirt, that day you caught him doing push-ups on the balcony, sweat dripping from his tanned skin down to the cement below him. That image alone has kept you company on many nights when you laid in your bed, trying not to think about how San was just on the other side of the door.

The thick trap muscles on either side of his neck flex as he looks at you now, but you can’t tear your gaze away from his chest. Slowly, you bring your hand up, brushing his neck with skittish fingers, like you’re afraid if you touch too long you’ll get scorched. Not by the heat of his skin, but by the burning of your want.

You drag your fingers down, across his collarbones, between his pecs, on and on. San’s breathing becomes a hiss when you stop just above his stomach, his frame jerking slightly above you as you rub your fingers back and forth.

“Sorry,” you giggle, realizing you were basically falling into a trance. It’s just easier to focus on anything but his face right now. You can feel the way he’s staring at you, and you’re a little afraid of what you might find if you look in his eyes right now. “I’m not trying to tease you, I just got distracted.”

‘Noona,” San tuts, eyebrows narrowing slightly, a convincing facsimile of sternness, like he’s disappointed in you. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted you to touch me like this?” He doesn’t allow you the chance to breathe, let alone speak, as his mouth covers yours again.

Kissing San is a full body experience every time, leaving your skin tingling, heart racing with every touch of his lips against yours, but now, with him pressing you into the couch, it’s beyond overwhelming, all rational thought fleeing your head, leaving behind only, San San San.

He lifts his head high enough to catch your eye. “Can I touch, too?”

“Oh god please.” Shamelessly, you sit up, forcing him back on his heels. He watches with rapt attention as you pull your shirt off. For a second you debate with yourself, then you decide there’s no reason not to, so you lose your bra as well. Knowing you look pathetically eager, giving no fucks about it.

San clearly doesn’t mind, given the smile that splits his face. In the blink of an eye he’s got you on your back again, palms cupping your tits.

“Noona,” he murmurs, thumbs rolling over your nipples, making the sensitive nubs stiffen, “You’re so pretty.”

Heat flashes up the sides of your face. “San,” you try to groan exasperatedly, but it comes out a whine instead, high, and so, so needy.

“What? You are.” His kiss is the punctuation to his declaration, fully stopping your protest. “Pretty, pretty, pretty.”

His lips keep kissing down your chin, your neck, your chest, and you moan, letting your head flop back on the pillow because your head is too heavy to hold up while pleasure courses through you courtesy of San’s hard-working tongue.

“You’re pretty too, you know,” you sigh absentmindedly, head currently floating somewhere in the clouds.

He pauses with his teeth in mid-graze. “I know.”

It shouldn’t turn you on like that, him cockily smiling at you with a mouthful of nipple, but it does. Even so, you roll your eyes, pushing his head back down so he doesn’t see the grin you can’t suppress. A low hum sounds from the back of his throat, sounding pleased when you thread your fingers through his hair, nails scraping gently against his scalp.

“I wish I could take my time,” he confesses, breath blowing warm over your wet skin, and you shudder, both from the sensation and his words. “But she won’t be gone long.”

“Next time,” you say, mouth moving faster than your brain, and his head snaps up, a look of surprise on his face quickly melting into a bright grin.

“Next time,” he agrees, lowering his lips to your chest again. “Definitely next time.”

*********

Previous installments of bff's lil bro San: one two three

Tagging a few people who I think are interested @minttangerines @kiestrokes @augustbutwinter @sweetnspicy-noona @krystal-a

#ateez smut #san smut #bff's lil bro au #ateez fanfic #lovely moots #moni logues #i need to finish a few things before i start posting this #but i’m working on it when the inspiration strikes #asks

[bordysbae]

This is kinda a request but can you do a Luke Hughes reader where he cheats on his gf with the leader because he found out he loves the reader but while him and the reader are doing the naughty his gf comes in and catches them

“wrong”

luke hughes x f!reader

warnings: cheating with reader, profanity, sex (sorta)

i tried to be more angsty than usual so i hope u guys like this

you knew from day one it was wrong. the way you looked at him, you knew it wasn’t right. the jittery feeling you felt in your stomach whenever he was around, it wasn’t the feeling that you were supposed to be feeling, it was supposed to be hers.

before you even realized it, your life became consumed. you were obsessed to say the least. always checking her instagram for new posts with him, or checking if the ‘<3’ highlight was still up on her page. the very first story on that highlight being dated all the way back to 25 weeks ago, the day you met him at the beginning of the semester at a party. you and luke grew close over first semester, so close you developed feelings for him, but he wasn’t yours. you stupidly set him up with a girl on your floor around october, and now they’re dating.

but the day you really messed up, was when you got so intoxicated that you somehow ended up in lukes bed, and that was last week. and that’s exactly where you are right now.

as luke’s lips melt into yours, he begins to unclip you bra from underneath your shirt. he pulls it out from under the tight fitting shirt hugging your skin perfectly, tossing it onto the floor behind him. your hands find their way up and under his shirt, tugging on part of it letting him know to remove it. he parts his lips from yours as he removes his top, while you do the same.

luke pauses unbuckling his belt to admire your body, making you blush and giggle nervously.

“you’re so pretty baby, you know that?”

“oh stop luke, you’re making me nervous,” you chuckle. luke smiles and leans back in to continue kissing you before breaking to finish taking his belt off. once all the clothing is removed, luke readjusts you both so that he’s above you while you’re laying flat on the bed. he leaves a trail of kisses down your neck, and leaves a few hickeys on your breasts. as he’s rolling the condom on, the door knob twists open and a shriek fills the small space.

“what the fuck luke!” she exclaims as she storms out of the door room. luke bolts out of his bed and puts as much clothing on as he can in a short amount of time, before running down the hallway chasing after his girlfriend. still in shock, you redress yourself in the now quiet and empty dorm room. the small polaroid of him and his girlfriend sitting on his desk reminds you that this is for the better, and that you guys should have never been in the position you were just in a few minutes ago.

as you slip quietly out of his dorm room, you see a distressed luke leaning against the wall. you attempt to slip past him unnoticed, but a hand grabs yours, spinning you around. you look up at luke and sigh. you know that you shouldn’t feel the way you do, but it’s like the whole world stops spinning when he looks at you.

“i’m sorry. i should’ve broken up with her ages ago,” he says lowly, clearly disappointed with himself.

“it’s not me you should be apologizing to luke,” you state.

“yes it is, i never even cared about her. i always wanted you, i just realized that way too late. you think it’s a coincidence that i see you everyday on my way to class while you come back from the gym? or that we just so happen to shop at the same bagel place? hell y/n, you make me so crazy that i just couldn’t deal with the chase any longer, so i kept mia around. which i regret, knowing now that it wasn’t just a one sided thing with you”

“luke, this isn’t right. i’m disgusted with myself, i knew what i was doing. we can’t be together, it’s wrong. at least not this soon, we have to think about mia,” you sigh.

“okay, then i’ll wait. i’ll wait for you, because i love you y/n. i know you think i’m crazy for saying that, but it’s true. seeing the way you care about everyone more than yourself, or how you’re not afraid to be the loudest one cheering in the stands, or even how you dance under the club lights, it makes me fall even more in love with you,” luke says, grabbing your free hand and intertwining it with his.

although your heart is swelling at his words, a sharp pain is stinging throughout your heart at the same time.

“luke, you don’t mean tha-“ you begin to say, but he cuts you off. “i do y/n, i do mean it. please just let me wait for you, i’ll do it anyways even if you tell me not to. i don’t care if we’re ‘wrong,’ it’s you that i want, and i know that.”

a tear slips down your cheek, knowing that you so desperately want to pull him in for a kiss and call him yours, but you know you can’t. “luke, we’re wrong. just give me time, and that doesn’t mean i’ll one hundred percent come back to you, but there’s a chance, okay?”

luke’s pursed lips turn into a sorrow grin, and he nods his head quickly. “okay, anything. anything you want, you have it.”

—

and luke really did mean those words, he meant every single one.

as you’re resting your head on his chest, feeling his breaths slow as he begins to fall into a calm rest, you say something that you’ve been dying to say for awhile now, “i love you too, luke.”

“what? i didn’t say i love you, i mean i do but-“

“i know. it’s from last year, the words i left unsaid. i’m saying them now, because i love you too,” you say softly, still feeling luke’s breathing pattern against your cheek. his lips brush against the top of your head, making you smile.

“well, in that case, i love you more.”

#luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes blurb #hockey blurb #hockey imagine #umich hockey #michigan hockey #nj devils

[mumms-the-word]

Forearms

Pairing: Gale x Tav (Dani) Summary: Set immediately after this fic about Dani settling into a new life with her companions on the road, Dani offers to mend Gale's robe. Which involves him having to take it off, naturally. (no smut, just Dani being ridiculous about Gale's forearms) A/N: This is 100% the moment where Dani is like "oh no he's hot." She thinks everyone is hot, but this is the moment where Gale starts to rise above everyone for her. It's silly, it's stupid, and I wrote it like months ago, but y'all asked for it lmao also yes this does adhere to the Gale Wrap Shirt Theory (I just borrowed Astarion's shirt because I don't have mods)

Dani stretched out her back and got to her feet, leaving behind her now-sorted camp supplies to make her way over to Gale and his cooking fire. She peered down into the pot before looking at Gale. “What’s for dinner tonight?”

“Stew,” Gale said, smiling apologetically. “I hesitate to give it any more of a descriptor than that. Oh, and a few leftover loaves of bread, too. Might as well use them up before they go bad. I think one of them was starting to mold…”

He said this last line to himself, turning to rifle through the box that contained most of their food. He pulled out a small, torn half-loaf of bread and examined it, turning it this way and that before tearing it and peering inside. Dani reached over and plucked the smaller half from his fingers, claiming it for herself. She tore off a bit and popped it into her mouth.

“Seems decent to me,” she said.

Gale looked briefly alarmed before shaking his head, amused. “You’d probably eat it even if it had mold on it.”

“Not true. I’d scrape the mold off first and eat around it. Wouldn’t be the first time.” She raised her eyebrows at him as she pulled off another bite of bread to eat, silently challenging him to judge her.

Gale made a face but didn’t respond, turning back to his stew and flicking his wrist. The spectral mage hand that was stirring the pot lifted the ladle for him to inspect. He picked up a small spoon from his utensil set (of course he had a utensil set wrapped in leather, a hodgepodge set he’d collected over the last couple of days, but that he kept packed away like it was some sort of adventurer’s kit) and used the spoon to taste the broth in the ladle.

“Hmm…nearly there, I think,” he said. He let the mage hand go back to stirring while he wiped his spoon on a bit of cloth he had tucked into his belt. “Gods, what I wouldn’t give for my spice shelf. Or just some extra salt.”

“Just add it to the list of things we’ll buy as soon as we see any,” Dani said, still eating her bit of bread piece by little torn piece. “I know I have a running list of my own.”

“Far be it from me to add to your growing shopping list of potentially expensive and ever practical items,” Gale said dryly, “but if you do happen to find a small case of salt, or any spice really, I think we’d all be a little better for it. It shouldn’t detract too much from your funds. I know you’re careful with your money.”

She arched an eyebrow. As the team’s craftiest barterer, she was in possession of most of the money, and her companions had already watched her haggle and cajole until a price was a bit closer to where she’d prefer it to be. Sometimes it took a minute.

She thought about pointing out that she was “careful” with her gold for a variety of reasons, including stocking up an emergency fund for magical items should his arcane hunger trigger and she find herself without something to give him. But she stayed silent, watching him pull a few herbs from their food box and set them on a flat rock he’d taken to using as a cutting board. He sat with the rock in his lap, cutting the herbs up with a dagger that he kept on hand for food preparation. As he turned to hold the rock over the cookpot and brush the chopped herbs into the stew, she noticed a bit of white peeking through his purple robe sleeve, right at the shoulder seam. A tear in the fabric.

“Take off your robe,” she said.

He jolted, nearly dropping the rock and dagger directly into the stew. “I beg your pardon?” Maybe it was the firelight and the darkening shadows of dusk, but Dani could have sworn his face was suddenly pinker than before.

“Your robe,” Dani said, tossing the last bit of bread into her mouth and holding out her hand. “Take it off. You’ve got a tear.”

“Wha—a tear?” Gale looked all down his arms and the front of his robe before twisting his neck to spot the rip in his shoulder. “Argh, damn. This was one of my better robes, too…”

Dani snickered and gestured for him to get on with it. “Come on, hand it over. I’ll fix it for you.”

“What—now?” 

“Why not? You’re busy. Everyone else is busy—well, except Astarion. And I can mend it for you.”

Gale looked a little surprised. “I didn’t know you could mend.”

She shrugged. “My mother is a seamstress and I used to help her out every now and again. Plus, when you’re on the road, you have to keep up with a few skills. You’re just lucky we have a bit of needle and thread on hand. So.” She gestured again with her hand.

Gale squirmed as if uncomfortable. “I’m sure it can wait. The stew is nearly ready and we’re all about to dress down for the night. I can give it to you then.”

Dani rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, Gale. If it was armor Lae’zel would be hounding you until you gave it up for her to fix. If it was your spellbook you’d want to mend it as soon as possible. Just take it off and let me do it.”

“Fine, fine.” He held up his hands, his face still a little flushed, but he acquiesced. He undid the belt around his middle and tugged off his leather bracers before finally untying the robe and shrugging it off. He still looked a little sheepish, but he willingly handed the robe over to her. 

The moment the robe was off, something shifted in Dani’s mind. She realized only then that she’d only ever seen him either fully dressed in his robes or in his velvety lounge clothes, but never in just his white wrap shirt and high-waisted pants. She paused a moment, her eyes roving over his form. In just his shirt, pants, and boots, he cut a trim figure, looking a bit like one of the handsome men drawn on the covers of tawdry romance novels she used to read back in Baldur’s Gate. Especially when he set one hand on his hip and frowned faintly at her, his earring glinting in the firelight.

“I hope it won’t take too long,” he said.

She blinked. Oh right, the robe. “It’s a simple tear, super easy to fix,” she said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

She turned and hurried away, her own face feeling a little warm. Was she honestly thinking…no. Well—maybe. Gale was handsome. No point in ignoring otherwise. But Gale in just a shirt and trousers? Or, perhaps, Gale in just his trousers…or, going further, Gale in nothing but—

Gods, Dani! She mentally shook herself and sat back down at her bedroll, digging her sewing kit from her bag. Now was not the time. She said she’d mend his robe and she would, so she had better get started.

But mending was mindless work for her, leaving her alone to her thoughts, so of course her mind drifted back to the subject of Gale as she dragged needle and thread through the purple fabric of his robe. Why was she only now struck by how handsome he looked? Sure, she’d flirted with him before, but she flirted harmlessly with everyone in camp. It wasn’t her fault she was surrounded by attractive companions. But Gale…

She glanced surreptitiously at him as he worked by the cooking fire, his focus on the food. He’d rolled up his sleeves to his elbows to keep his cuffs away from the food, which was honestly worse for Dani. Rolled up sleeves and forearms? She could just swoon. She watched as he packed away unused food items and utensils, muscles in his forearms flexing, the dark hair on his arms made darker by the dusk and firelight. He stood back and rested both hands on his hips as he watched the stew, his white shirt stretching a little more tightly across his chest.

She bit her lip and focused back on the robe. Just get it done, girl, and then give it back so you can go back to thinking he’s just a fun, quirky wizard nerd and not the hottest guy in camp.

Oh gods, if only.

...was he the hottest guy in camp? 

She glanced around quickly at Astarion, still lounging with his book. His lips made a pretty pout as he read and his hair was damn near perfect, but he didn’t make Dani’s heart flutter in quite the same way the sight of Gale in his wrap shirt and rolled up sleeves did. She searched for Wyll, walking around in his ragged black tank and black trousers, his biceps glistening with a fine sheen of sweat as he carried the last of the firewood over to Gale. Even with his devil horns, he was an attractive man. Dani was tempted to think he was even hotter than Gale—until Wyll set the fire down near Gale and Dani was forced to compare the two of them again.

…damn. What was it about Gale?

Gale glanced her way, raising his eyebrows at her questioningly when he caught her staring. She felt her heart go ba-dump like some cliche heroine in a romance novel and she quickly lowered her gaze back to her work.

Damn it. It was his eyes wasn’t it? His big, stupid, wet brown eyes, made darker and richer in the evening light. That and those stupid forearms she’d never seen before.

She almost wished she could go back to fifteen minutes ago, when she thought Gale was “handsome enough” but not exactly tempting. Not with Astarion smirking at her from across the campfire and Wyll flirting with all of them, not to mention all the flirting she’d done with Karlach and Shadowheart and Lae’zel too. She forced her attention back on the final stitches, determined to get this robe fixed as soon as possible.

She finished the last stitch and knotted the thread, giving the fabric a little tug on either side of the mended seam to test the strength of her work. Not bad, she had to admit. It almost looked as good as new.

She looked back at Gale and then down at the robe. She should give it back. Right now. Immediately. But…then again…if she kept it longer, he’d have to walk around without it longer. Which meant more eye candy for her, in theory. She pursed her lips, glancing back at Gale again.

No! She had to give it back. Now or never, Dani!

She got to her feet and walked back over to the fire, his purple robe tossed over her arm. He looked up from the cookpot again as she stopped near him.

“All finished?” he asked. “You do quick work.”

“Thanks,” she said, holding out the robe to him. Be casual, Dani girl, don’t be odd. “I’m famished. How much longer until dinnertime?” Success!

“Any moment now, I suspect.” 

He took the robe and examined the seams, running his thumb over the stitches. She was caught up watching his hands, admiring the perfect shape of his nails and how long and slender his fingers were. A pianist’s hands, she thought idly. An artist's hands. The kind of hands she'd want drawing patterns on her skin, fingers curling into her softer parts, sliding up her thighs to—snap out of it!

She sucked a short breath through her nose, trying to distract herself. Her gaze traveled up to his wrists, and then his bared forearms. There was a faint hint of ash lingering in his arm hairs from standing so close to the fire. Without thinking, she reached out and brushed it away. He looked up, surprised and she snatched her hand back, hiding it behind her back like she’d done something wrong.

“Sorry,” she said. “Just some—some ash. You should probably put that robe back on. As soon as possible, probably.”

Oh gods, she could just die.

Gale stared at her a moment before glancing at his arms again and then the robe. She saw something shift in his expression as his eyes came back up to meet hers, but she dared not interpret it. That, she thought, would be a dangerous mind game and her imagination was already working overtime.

“Well,” she said, and hated how weirdly breathless the word came out of her mouth. She cleared her throat. “I’ll go fetch the others, then, shall I?”

Without waiting for him to respond, she turned on her heel and hurried away, intending to go after whoever was the furthest away from the cook fire. Surely she’d cool off in the time it took to gather everyone. Fantasies were for bedtime, not right before dinner when the object of her fancy was right there.

But when she finally returned after all that, he was still standing in his wrap shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He hadn’t even put the robe back on. He laid it off to the side.  She glanced at the robe and then up to Gale, who was ladling stew into bowls and passing them around. He caught her eyes and gave her a faint, intentional smirk meant just for her before turning his attention back to the stew.

That’s when Dani knew, with a rush of realization that struck her a bit like lightning and left her sitting, silent and dazed and a little offended and a little impressed.

She’d been as obvious as day, and now he was teasing her about it. And that smirk? He was being a bit of an arrogant bastard…but gods, he was suddenly all the sexier for it.

She was doomed.

#bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #my fic #my tav #dani #meridan zavrai #gale #gale dekarios #please enjoy this nonsense lol

[liquid-luck-00]

Marks of Magic

Day 4 Leaves of Maribat Spooktober 2023

First *** Previous *** Next

Language and cursing is used

1540 Words

~~~~~~~~~~

She’s been at Gotham Academy for a little over a month and the seasons were starting to turn. She was sitting in Gotham Park under a giant white oak in the middle of the park.

Sure she had to deal with an odd rogue here and there but this was peaceful.

"You know you shouldn’t be alone." She looked up from her book and saw Jason standing above her.

"I haven’t been here that long." She put away the sketchbook in her bag as she got up.

"Really?" He reached above her and plucked something from her hat. "It seems you’ve been here long enough to start growing leaves, Nettie."

"I wouldn’t have if you actually got here when you said you would." She pouted at being called out, mostly because she did loose track of everything that happened around her. More than likely she was under that tree for an hour or two.

"B was being a pain, Alfred’s been watching me like a hawk, and…" He trailed off, he looked down kicking the ground.

"Jay." She grabbed his hands, they were cold but he didn’t seem to notice, pulling them up as his eyes followed the motion. "What happened?"

"It’s nothing." He grumbled looking away from her. So she grabbed his shoulder and squeeze them.

"Jason Peter Todd, Wayzz help me, for fucks sake something is bothering you so spill before I make you." She pulled him up slightly so they were eye level with each other. She was taller by a few centimeters but still.

"It’s nothing, really."

"It’s not nothing." She let him go. "You don't have to tell me, but if you want to I'll listen."

"I… not yet."

"Okay." She didn’t pry but knows her friend needs a distraction. "So why are there skeletons and spider webs going up everywhere?"

"What do you mean, it’s October."

"Yes and?" She tilted her head to the side, wondering why the month made a difference.

"Halloween!"

"What?"

"Have you never had Halloween?!"

"Sorry can’t say I have."

"Is it not a thing in Paris?" She shook her head in response. "Everyone gets dressed up and there is a huge festival here in the park. We would…" He would have kept talking but seemed to catch himself.

Fall she understood, granted back home it would be winding down from tourist season which meant a few final fairs would pop up. But there wouldn’t be much to note.

But this! This seemed like so much fun she had to try it.

"Dressed up, in costume?"

"Yeah! Heroes and demons, angels and monsters. Anything really."

She thought of elegant suits and dresses, masquerade was what she pictured. Not what Jay was describing at all.

"This is flying over your head, huh?"

"A bit."

"So what do you want to do?"

"It’s getting late, maybe grab a bite?"

"There’s a pretty good hotdog cart near by." Jason jabbed his thumb behind him.

"Lead the way."

Granted they weren’t even out of the park when they noticed. However in their defense they were pretty much in their own little world. It got eerily quiet, but just as fast everything came into hyper focus.

"Now which one of you was lucky number 13 to leave and set off the area?" Mari quickly looked around before her eyes focused on a stage of sorts and a man in a tacky three piece green suit with purple question marks all over it. She should probably keep more of an eye on rogue locations and incarcerations, but she just turned 14 and this should not be on her to do list.

"Well why don’t the two of you participate together, then." The Riddler practically giggled as a few henchmen shoved them into the center of this makeshift square.

Police cruisers blocked the street in order to stop traffic. The Riddler was standing on the bed of a semi truck with canons on either side of him, and what she assumes is a detonator in his hand.

"Three riddles, three detonators set up around the park. For each wrong answer I push a button, but if you’re right I won’t touch it."

"And how do we know you’ll actually keep your word?" Jason shouted at the villain.

"Quick on the suspicion, aren’t we! Where’s the fun if there’s no trust. Now!"

Mari was planning, she knows he wouldn’t actually let them go if they were right so she had to think. Two must be duds so... even if they answer right he could toss them, only one switch works so which is it?

"Let’s start simple and festive, shall we? Why do zombies never win at poker?"

She looked at Jason since she had no idea, yet he had a shit eating grin on his face.

"Because they have a tell-tale heart." Of course an Edgar Allen Poe reference, that explains his grin.

"One down two to go, kiddies." He dropped a remote, almost as if to prove it was in good faith, two remotes, it’s a 50 / 50 shot.

"Walk on the living, they don't even mumble, step on the dead, they mutter and grumble."

She blinked, the answer was simple. "Leaves."

"And the little miss speaks, correct". He drops one more remote, but this time he pulls a cane from behind him. Two henchmen come and grab each of them. The cane pointing at her, and she noticed the hollow barrel, a gun in the cane.

"Last one." Should she have been more surprised maybe, but who knows at this point. "While some spring forward, I choose to fall back. Come and join me while you sit on a haystack. I may show a movie with a crazed maniac, I will for sure host a festival to give you a heart attack."

Jay was staring livid, too angry to say a word, as he grit his teeth. This was not how she was going to die.

Sass.

Was all she thought when she closed her eyes, the riddle ringing in her mind, but no answer came. Then she opened them.

"There’s a pretty good hotdog cart near by." Jason jabbed his thumb behind him.

She looked at him puzzled, there was no way that happened, but it was so vivid in her mind, could it have actually happened, and how did she come back to this moment.

"Hey earth to Nettie is anyone home in there."

She felt a flick on her forehead, as her attention was drawn to Jay.

"Sorry I got the strangest feeling of deja-vu. This might be off the wall but… " She took a breath and recited. "While some spring forward, I choose to fall back. Come and join me while you sit on a haystack. I may show a movie with a crazed maniac, I will for sure host a festival to give you a heart attack."

"A riddle really?"

"I know it silly but it’s stuck in my head." She shrugged trying to play it off.

"October." They were walking now. "That’s the answer."

"Oh."

And then it happened, the Riddler, his speech, the suspicion from Jason, and it clicked, she called on Sass’s power, she turned back time.

"Now! Let’s start simple and festive, shall we? Why do zombies… "

She didn’t let him finish before she answered. "Because they have a tell-tale heart."

He was surprised and dropped a remote like before. "Walk on… "

"Leaves."

"While…" He stalked towards her.

"October." Things had changed, but she crossed her arms, a sense of confidence and lack of fear, made her ask. "Can you cut the theatrics now?"

"Why you little brat." He lunged at her and she pulled her fist back and caught him square in the nose before flipping him on his back.

She debated on answering him but she didn’t have to as Batman flew onto the scene.

"How? You? Nette?" Jay stumbled through his words.

"I’m from Paris, why wouldn’t I know how to do this?" She shrugged.

"I have more questions."

"Which can wait." An officer came out from the police line. "May we get a statement."

She looked over at Jason who was again staring at his shoes as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world, a feeling that someone was watching them, prickled down her spine.

"Yes, but do you mind driving us home after, it’s getting late." She tried to sound a bit shaken at the events and the officer smiled at her. He seemed honest enough.

"Of course I can, what’s your name."

"Marinette."

"I’m commissioner Gordon, and your Jason, right." She looked between the two, he nodded but Jay still avoided everyone’s eyes. "Alright let’s go."

The commissioner guided them away from the scene.

They gave a short statement before they were driven home.

She was the first one to be dropped off, and Jason tugged on her sleeve as she was getting out.

"Can…" He whispered but stopped. "Good night."

"Night Jay." She smiled as he let go, but she knows something is wrong. But she can’t do anything if he won’t tell her so she’ll wait.

"Come on Wayne." She heard as the door closed, and she blinked.

Did she hear that right. No it can’t be… can it.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@jennifer-rose123 @toodaloo-kangaroo

#maribat spooktober 2023 #maribat october prompts #maribat #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #dc x miraculous #miraculous x dc #ml marinette #maribat jason todd #luka x mari x jason

[ticklishbeans4]

Take a Break

Listen I'm on this Fionna and Cake train and I have no plans of getting off just yet, so enjoy this!

Simon had been traveling with Fionna and Cake for some time now, they were no closer to their goal unfortunately. He could feel the frustration rolling off of his companions, and he didn’t wish to anger them further like he always seemed to do, so he just kept quiet for now. They walked through this… pillow world? The crown was bunk here too, just a pillow crown that was about as magical as he was right now. The only reason they were still here was because Cake insisted they rest. He wasn’t against the idea, not fully at least. This world was soft and quiet and calm, he liked that part. But not moving also meant The Scarab could catch up to them at any time. They’d been lucky so far, but that luck could run out at any moment. And with his… well luck, they were on borrowed time.

He laid on the green fuzzy pillowy… meadow? That’s probably what it was. He laid in the meadow and looked up at the starry sky above him. Did he really want to do this? Go back to being Him? It would bring magic back to Fionna and Cakes world, and he’d be freed from his depressing life. Maybe he’d even find a way to block the madness. But not the way the Winter King did. He would never do that. He wasn’t a wad.

“Hey.” Fionna snapped, pulling Simon from his thoughts. “You’re being quiet! It’s weird!”

He sighed and sat up, “I just wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet while I could.”

“Well stop it! It’s weird!” Cake huffed, glaring at him with a face remarkably similar to Fionnas.

“Whenever I talk you two seem to get mad at me, now I’m not talking and you’re still mad at me. I just can’t win.” he rubbed his face and stood. “Let’s go. We’ve been here long enough.”

“Noooo! I’m all comfy and cozy!” Cake whined, laying back on the pillow meadow and rolling around.

“You won’t be so comfy and cozy when The Scarab turns you into a cube!” he snapped, softening when the cat looked stunned. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just… I don’t want us to get caught before we find a new crown.”

“Yeah but we can rest sometimes. My friend Marshal always says you gotta have a good work life balance!” Fionna grinned, getting comfy on the pillows.

He growled in frustration, grabbing his hair. “That’s- This isn’t a JOB! You were the one that was all urgent in Prismos cube! Now it’s like you don’t care at all!” 

“HEY!” she snapped, standing back up, getting in his face. “I care a TON! That’s my world in your stupid brain! All my friends and family! Everyone I love! I care more than you do! But we can’t run ourselves ragged over it! So sit down! Shut up! And RELAX!” She pushed him back harshly, which lost a bit of its effect since it was a very soft landing. But the message was clear.

Simon stayed on the ground, curling his knees to his chest. Relax? What a joke. He couldn’t relax for the life of him, he hadn’t been relaxed since… since he found that damn crown! Maybe a few moments with Marcy but… He would just have to wait till Fionna and Cake were done being stupid.

The silence was tense for the next while, Cake seemed to be the only one unaffected as she rolled around, kneading the ground and purring loudly. Simon just stayed curled up, not caring that it had gotten uncomfortable a long time ago. He couldn’t even think right now, he was just… upset! His head felt like it was filled with tv static and cotton, and it was somehow bullying him at the same time.

“Simon?” Fionna’s voice called to him, sounding softer than it had before.

“Yes?” he replied flatly.

There was a long pause, before he heard shuffling and the presence of someone behind him. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have pushed you. Or yelled at you. And I’m sorry for telling you to shut up.” He sighed, still curled up and still feeling awful. “I forgive you. And I’m sorry I said you didn’t care. I know you do.”

“It’s ok. I get it, we’re all pretty stressed. I just wanted to be able to take a minute, ya know?” she sighed, “I… I want to fix my world. I do! More than anything! Or… at the very least I want to keep it safe. But I can’t just… run all the time. Everyone needs a break, ya know?”

He was silent for a moment, mulling over her words, and how to respond. Not easy when he could barely think straight. “I… I do understand. I know what it’s like to want to protect someone… But also keep yourself from falling.”

“Yeah! Something like that!” she chirped, sounding significantly happier. “So… Do you feel rested and relaxed?”

“Not really, no. But if you’re ready to go, then we should go.” he replied, sitting up, yelping as his shoulders were grabbed.

Fionna looked at him with blazing and determined eyes, “No way! You deserve to chill just as much as anyone! We’ve been going at 110 percent for days! You need like, a nap or something!”

He gently removed her hands from his shoulders. “I don’t really… Do, naps. Not since I was very little at least.”

“WHAAAAAAT!?” Cake cried, rushing over and jumping on his chest, sending him crashing back to the ground. “How can you not take naps!? Naps are the best thing in the world!” “I just don’t! I can never fall asleep when it’s light out!” he cried, trying to push her off, but she just dug her claws into his jacket.

“Nah man! You’re taking a nap here and now!” Cake demanded, curling up on his chest and purring, but in a distinctly angry way.

He sighed heavily, “Fionna, get your cat off me. I don’t need, nor want, to take a nap!”

She shrugged with a distinct mischievous twinkle in her eye, “Well you gotta relax somehow! How do you usually relax?”

“I don’t.” he huffed, though a few things did come to mind on how he used to relax… Singing, dancing, he remembered a few times he’d be stressed out and Betty, or even Marcy back in the day, would tickle him to make him relax. …That somehow worked the best he found, back then at least.

Fionna scoffed, “That’s stupid! Everyone has something to relax! I drink, dance, party, watch tv, or pet Cake!”

“And I’m a cat! So I do nothing but relax!” Cake grinned, hopping onto Fionna’s back.

“Well I don’t have those things. I used to sing but… It doesn't really help like it used to.” he sighed.

“Weeeeelllll, you could sing right now!” she beamed, both girls leaning in close to his face.

For some reason, that got a snort out of him, and a smile as he pushed them away. “Get out of my face, ya weirdos!”

Fionna gasped, “Oh my god! He CAN smile! I thought it was a myth! We are bearing witness to a historical moment! Simon Petrikov, grumpyguss extraordinaire! Smiling!”

He rolled his eyes, “I’m not that bad!”

“Buddy, I can count on one hand with fingers left over the amount of times you’ve smiled.” Cake scoffed, bapping his nose with her paw.

He snorted again and brushed her paw aside, “That is so not true! I’ve smiled plenty of times!”

“No you have not!” Fionna argued, poking his face.

“Have so!” he countered, bapping her hand away.

“Have not!”

“Have so!”

“Have not!” “Yeah huh!”

“Nu-uh!”

“Yeah huh!” This poke was to his stomach, and much to his downfall, he yelped.

Time seemed to freeze for a moment as they all stared at each other. Simon could feel the heat rising to his cheeks as he slowly and subtly tried to scoot back. But Fionna and Cake… they looked down right predatory. Eyes gleaming, grinning wide as they came closer to him.

“Say Simon~” Cake purred, “You aren’t keeping anything from us, right?”

“N-no! I wouldn’t do that! Not after everything we’ve been through!” he laughed nervously, looking between the two as they approached.

“You suuuuure?” Fionna grinned, lifting a hand, her fingers wiggling evilly. “Cause I mean… it sure seems like there’s something we could do to help you relax… And you didn’t tell us.”

He gulped, anticipatory giggles already rising in his chest. “N-no, I-I have no id-dea what you mean!”

“Awww! Look at ‘im! Already blushing like a schoolgirl!” Cake teased, which only made his blush worse.

He went to make another comment, but Fionna poked his stomach again and he squeaked. That seemed to be all it took as the girls pounced on him, Cake pinning his arms over his head as Fionna’s hands clawed at his stomach. Now he tried, he really and truly tried not to laugh, to not let them know how sensitive he was. But sadly, he was very sensitive, and it had been a long time so his endurance was shit, so he broke pretty damn quick. “Nahahaahahahah! Nohohohoho! Fiohohohohonna! Cahahahake!” he squealed, kicking out and tugging at his arms.

Fionna just laughed, scratching evilly at his stomach, like some crazed gopher trying to make a home. “No way! This is too good! If I’d known you were this ticklish, I would have done this way sooner!”

“Nooooohohohoho!” he snorted, turning his red laughing face into his shoulder so he didn’t have to look at her smug face.

“Hey! Don’t hide that smile now! I’m working hard for that!” she teased, poking at his ribs, jumping a bit as he shrieked.

“No wait! Not there!” he begged, but with the evil glint in her eyes, he knew he’d signed his own death warrant.

“Oh? Not… here?” she asked, poking his ribs, “Or here? Or here, or here, or here?” She was poking up and down his ribs, lingering a bit at the spot right above the bottom ribs since it made him shriek like a mad man.

“AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! NOHOHOOHOHOHOHO! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!” he wheezed, snorting loudly under her evil fingers.

“What? Has poor Mr.Petrikov had enough?” she cooed, taking all her fingers and clawing at his ribs.

“YEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHES! PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE! MERCYYYYYY!” he pleaded, tears of laughter forming in his eyes.

It seemed Fionna believed him as she stopped tickling, and Cake released his arms. He curled up, still giggling as the phantom tickles ran their course.

“Yup.” Fionna sighed, clearly pleased with herself. “Definitely using that more often in the future.”

“The near future.” Cake laughed, poking Simon's side, making him squeal and roll away from her.

“Stahahp! Stahhap! I yeheheild!” he giggled, waving his hands to prevent more attacks.

The girls just laughed, flopping onto the ground next to him. Simon rolled onto his back, grinning as he stared into the sky. This was… strange. He actually felt pretty good for once, lighter. Maybe he just needed a good laugh, or to play again. Have some fun. …Maybe he just needed some friends in his life again.

“Still grumpy?” Fionna asked with a smirk.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes before he closed them. “I’m not answering that question. In fact… I’m taking a nap.”

“Ooooooooh! So Mr.IDon’tTakeNaps is suddenly all about nap time?” Cake teased.

“Meh meh meh meh meh.” he mocked back, opening and closing his hand. “No, y’all tired me out. I’m an old man! I can’t take that kind of torture like I used to!”

“Like you used to!?” they both cried, looming over him with eager expression.

“Oh Glob damn it.” he sighed, but not without a smile. This was going to be a long journey. But right now? …It didn’t seem as bad as it did before.

#tickles #tickling #tickle #fionna and cake #simon petrikov #fionna campbell #cake the cat #adventure time tickles #fionna and cake tickles #tickle fic

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

The Phoenix and the Crow

part twenty-three

pairing: kaz brekker x fem!reader

genre: neutral, kinda sorta fluff

el's thoughts: finally some one on one interaction with kaz and y/n! and a lil surprise at the end hehe

series masterlist

It took two days after she emerged from the surgeon’s cabin for Kaz to make himself approach Y/N. She was sitting by herself, legs crossed, back to the hull of the ship, sipping a cup of tea. The view before him reminded him of their last conversation on a ship.

Y/N turned to look up at him as he leaned on the railing beside her. The silence that settled over them wasn’t heavy as Kaz wracked his mind for something to say. 

“The Darkling. That’s who I saw.” Her voice almost startled him as he realized what she was sharing. “Reminding me of everything I could never have despite my childish wishes and dreams.” 

“From where we stood it looked like he reminded you just how powerful you are as well,” said Kaz. 

She shook her head, “He reminded me of the monster he made me.”

“The Phoenix is hardly viewed as a monster. From what I’ve heard you’re just as much a Saint as the sun summoner. The most powerful inferni to walk the earth.” Kaz couldn’t brign h imsefl to look at her as he spoke, only kept his eyes trained on the sea below them.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to be known as powerful because of my gift or- or because of the Darkling, or because of fear. I… I want to be powerful because I moved forward despite the odds. If people were to fear me, I want them to fear the name I built for myself.” She squeezed the rail under her hand. “I envy you for that reason… if I were to speak honestly.”

It still confused him how anyone could be jealous of the life he built himself. Yet alone how Y/N L/N ex-Lieutenant General of the second army. She lived in a palace with full meals everyday and nice clothes on her back. How could she be jealous of a barrel rat who was a scavanger of food most of his youth. 

Kaz tilted his head as if to dump his thoughts out as he limped over to her. “I want to show you something.”

“I’m well, thank you for asking,” she said, looking up at him. “How are you?”

He felt his lips twist. “Splendid.” Awkwardly, he lowered himself down beside her and set aside his cane.

“Is your leg bad?”

“It’s fine. Here.” He spread Wylan’s drawing of the prison sctor between tem. Most of Wylan’s plans showed the Ice Court from above, but the prison elevation was a side view, a cross section showing the building’s floors stacked on top of one another.

“I’ve seen it.” Y/N said. She ran her finger from the basement up to the roof in a straight line. Six stories up a chimney.” 

“Can you do it?”

“I’m a heavy footed soldier, not your Wraith. Is there another option?”

“No.”

“So if I say I can’t make the climb, will you tell Spect to turn the boat around and take us back to Ketterdam?”

“I’ll find another option,” said Kaz. “I don’t know what, but I’m not giving up on that haul.”

“You know I’ll at least try it, Kaz, and you know I’m not going to refuse. I’ll find a way to get us out of there. So why ask?”

‘Because I’ve been looking for an excuse to talk to you for two days.’ 

“I want to make sure you know what you’ll be dealing with and that you’re studying the plans.”

“Will there be a test?”

“Yes,” said Kaz. “If you fail, we’ll all end up stuck inside a Fjerdan prison.”

“Mmm,” she said and took a sip of her tea. “And I’ll end up dead one way or another.” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the hull. “I’m worried about the escape route to the harbor. I don’t like that there’s only one way out.”

Kaz settled back against the hull, too. “Me neither,” he conceded, stretching out his bad leg. “But that’s why the Fjerdan’s built it that way.”

“Do you trust Specht?

Kaz cast her a sideways glance. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”

“I’m not one in a place to judge your crew, Brekker, but if the Ferolind isn’t waiting for us in the harbor…”

“I trust him enough.” He could feel her staring at the side of his face. He didn’t turn to look at her while he willed himself to keep his breathing even and his face to heat up. 

“He owes you then?”

Kaz nodded. He glanced around then said, “The navy threw him out for insubordinstion and refused him his pension. He has a sister to support near Belendt. I got him his money.”

“That was good of you.”

Kaz felt his eyes narrow. “I’m not some character out of a children’s story who plays harmless pranks and steals from teh rich to give to the poor. There was money to be made and information to be had. Specht knows the navy’s routes like the back of his hand.”

“Never something for nothing, Kaz,” she said, her gaze steady. “I know. Still, if the Ferolind is intercepted, we’ll have no way out of Djerholm.”

“I’ll get us out. You know that.”

‘Tell me you know that.’ He needed her to say it. This job wasn’t like anything he’d attempted before. Every doubt she’d raised was a legitimate one, and only echoed the fears in his own head. He’d snapped at her before they’d left Ketterdam, told her he’d be able to replace her is she didn’t think he could pull it off. He needed to know that she believed he could do this, that he could take them into the Ice Court and bring them out feeling whole and righteous the way he’d done with the other crews on jobs. He needed to know she believed in him.

“I trust you, Kaz,” she said as she ran her finger over the rim of her cup. “I hear Pekka Rollins was the one gunning for us in the harbor.”

“So?”

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten your personal tiff with him.”

“He’s just another boss, one more Barrel thug.”

“Kaz Brekker, don’t you start lying to me now.”

Later, he wasn’t sure why he’d said it. He’d never told anyone, never spoken the words aloud. But now Kaz kept his eyes on the sails above them and said, “Pekka Rollins killed my brother.”

He didn’t have to see Y/N’s face to sense her shock. “You had a brother?”

“I had a lot of things,” he muttered.

“I’m sorry.” He saw her stretch her hand out to him then quickly pull it back. “I know what it’s like to lose a brother. I can promise you that Pekka will get the suffering he deserves.”

Had he wanted her sympathy? Was that why he’d told her?

“I’ll pray for him,” Y/N said. “For peace in the next world if not in this one.”

He turned his head. They were sitting close together, their shoulders were touching. He stared into the deep y/e/c of her eyes and noticed that once again her hair was down. She typically wore it tied back in a messy coil. Even the idea of being this near to someone should have set his skin crawling. Instead he thought, ‘What happens if I move closer?’

“I don’t want your prayers.”

Y/N swallowed hard before speaking, “I know this won’t mean much to you… but I pray for him. For the person who you once were. And you.”

“I don’t want your prayers.”

“What do you want then?” 

The old answers came easily back to  mind. Money. Vengeance. Jordie’s voice in my head silenced forever. But a different reply roared to life inside him, loud, insistent, and unwelcome. ‘You, Y/N. You.’

He shrugged and turned away. “To die buried under the weight of my own gold.”

“Again,” Y/N sighed. “Then I’ll pray you get all you ask for.”

“More prayers?” he asked. “And what do you want, L/N?”

He could almost hear her mind racing and he couldn’t help but hope the same thoughts were running through her head as it did his. 

“To turn my back on Ketterdam and never hear that name again. It’s only brought me troubles.”

‘Good.’ He’d finally be rid of this distraction.

“Your four million kruge can grant that wish.” He pushed to his feet. “Save your prayers for good weather and stupid guards. Just leave me out of it.”

He could hear her faint call of his name but ignored it and continued to walk belowdeck. He needed to get away from the overwhelming feeling of her.

~

By the time they bid their goodbyes to the ship’s crew, the sky had turned from pink to gold.

“See you in Djerholm harbor,” called Specht. “No mouners.”

“No funerals.” Y/N suprised herself when she called the reply back. She really had spent too much time with these people. 

The group began their hike from the rocky shore up the cliff side, but Y/N waited behind with her eyes trained on the horizon. No one else had picked up on her absence yet and she was grateful. 

She only had to stay a few minutes longer before the familiar sails of the Volkvolny came into view. A warm wave of relief and hope washed over her as she saw the familiar figure of her leading hope. 

Inej Ghafa walked off the ship and quickly made her way to the inferni’s side, wrapping the pair wrapping their arms around each other.

“Saint’s, Inej.” Y/N chuckled. “Thank you.”

“Always.” The Suli girl smiled kindly. “Now, catch me up.”

Y/N and Inej spent their hike catching each other up on all their affairs, but the majority was talking about the plans for this heist.

“Climbing six floors up a chimney?”

“Yeah… You think you can do it?”

“Of course I can.”

The two girls saw the group of five up ahead and sped up their pace. Once they caught up Nina and Jesper rushed to embrace Inej in a suffocating hug. Y/N felt Kaz’s eyes burning holes in the side of her face but chose to ignore him.

“How did you make it here?” asked Jesper.

“I sent a letter back home,” Y/N spoke up. “And just to my luck, Stumhound and his crew had docked back at the palace.”

Kaz stepped forward. “You didn’t think to tell me this?”

“You didn’t think to tell me about Van Eck?” She challenged. “I thought it through, Inej would make the climb. I told you I had it handled.”

“You just added one extra member to our crew. That changes everything.”

“Don’t make it bigger than it is, Kaz. It only changes the part of us getting in. Once we get past that, everything else will fall into place.”

“You undermined me.”

“You hid the truth from me.”

The rest of the group backed away slowly, giving the two a bit more space and none of them wanted to get involved.

Y/N took a deep breath, the cold air stinging her lungs and throat. “Kaz, I brought more help. Take it or leave it.”

Kaz stared at her for a long moment, multiple emotions fluttering through his eyes. He hummed to himself and turned around to keep walking. 

“Saints,” said Inej. “We’re actually doing this.”

“I’ve spent every minute of every miserable day wishing to be off that ship,” said Jesper. “So why do I suddenly miss it?

Wylan stamped his boots. “Maybe because it already feels like our feet are going to freeze off.”

“When we get out money, you can burn kruge to keep you warm,” said Kaz. “Let’s go.” He’d left his crow’s head cane aboard the Ferolind and substituted a less conspicuous walking stick. Jesper had mournfully left behind his prized pearl-handled revolvers in favor of a pair of unor-namented guns.

Jesper consulted his compass, and they turned south, seeking a path that would lead them to the main trading road. “I’m going to pay someone to burn my kruge for me.”

Kaz fell into step beside him. “Why don’t you pay someone else to pay someone to burn your kurge for you? That’s what the big players do.”

“You know what the really big bosses do? They pay someone to pay someone to…”

Their voices trailed off as they tramped ahead, and Y/N and the others followed after.

~*~

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