#but muse for him has been through the roof lately aND I DO THINK? this is... very good?

[tadpolesonalgae]

They get turned on when you’re angry — headcanons

a/n: thank you 🩰 for this thought, and thank you anon for requesting it 🧡💛 (this is ever so slightly unserious, please accept my apologies)

warnings: starts out suggestive, derails into smut :)

Rhysand:

“You can’t keep insisting you’re the most handsome High Lord at the High Lord meetings, Rhys!”

You’ve got him sat on the edge of your bed as you scold him for his behaviour, Rhys waiting patiently as he watches you trying to ply the clips from your hair, your own patience wearing thin as frustration builds at their refusal to budge

“I mean really Rhys, I understand you’re no longer acting out a cruel persona, but a little tact, no? Just some discretion? Not cracking jokes left right and centre!”

You hiss as one of the clips snags on a strand of hair, cursing both him and the clip out under your breath

“Darling, will you please just allow me to—”

“Don’t you dare move, Rhysand.”

Colour warms the tan skin of his cheeks, eyes appreciatively running down the trail of your spine, heat gathering at the spankable curve of your hind. The tone you’d used…

“I know you think you’re charismatic and charming, but your arrogance is getting out of hand,” you continue, oblivious to the dark dip in his thoughts, “I suppose it’s inevitable when you have no one to keep you in check, but—”

“No one to keep me in check?”

You whirl on him, hair at last free and unbound, whipping over your shoulder as you turn to him

He’s undone the top most buttons of his shirt, leaned back on the bed, long legs parted—not at all ashamed of the reaction he’s having to the sharp, clipped tone you’d been using on him

“Rhysand!” You hiss, “I’m trying to…”

But he’s not hiding anything, arousal heating the glimmering bond that lies between you, skin tingling with awareness as warmth pools in your belly

“What was it you said again? That I have no one to keep me in check?” He muses, hand shifting over the muscle of his thigh to the obvious hardness between his legs. “No one to remind me of my place?”

“Rhysand,” you warn, “we have a dinner tonight, do not…” but you trail off when he palms himself through the fitted fabric of his trousers, a low groan coming from the back of his throat.

You pry your tongue from the roof of your mouth, delicately licking over dried lips, an action he marks eagerly. “I suppose you could serve being taught a lesson to two…”

Cassian:

“Cass, hurry up! We’re going to be late! Again!”

Really, you would have thought as a General he would have excellent time management skills and would never struggle with being late. And usually, that’s true. But something about going out to dinner to see his family just sends all of that training out the window

“Cassian?” You question, leaning over the banister to call up to your mate’s room. “Cassian, are you nearly ready?”

A series of knocks are landed to your front door, and you blanch, wondering if it’s another pair thinking of walking with you to the River House. But when you open it, you’re greeted with a proudly grinning Cassian, wings tucked in tight against the chill breeze

He must have flown out the window and round to the front again.

“Cassian!” You snap, “I was stressing! Why can’t you just please be on time and save me the anxiety?”

He opens his mouth, pride gleaming in his eyes at what he no doubt thinks is a clever trick, but the amusement has already seeped from your bones.

“For goodness sake,” you mutter, “you haven’t even—” You push up onto your tiptoes, leaning flush against him for support as you set straight a curled lock that was blown the wrong way, flopping to the wrong side of his head

You huff impatiently, settling back onto the flats of you feet, lightly smacking your hand over his chest as you reassess him. “Right. Good. Let’s go.”

“Sweetheart, don’t worry,” he tries, realising too late you’re genuinely bothered, agitation zinging down the bond. “They won’t even—”

“Cassian, I am not in the mood at the moment,” you snap sharply. “How many times have I told you. We need to be ready to leave half an hour before hand. You’re a General for crying out loud, put your knowledge to good use.”

You’ve never snapped like that before at him. He knows you get a little tightly wound when it comes to time management, but never anything like this. Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten your gears turning like that. But your arms have crossed over your chest, drawing his attention to the dip in the neckline, a little further than usual. The strict set of your brows, and the disapproving cut of your mouth…

He zones back in when you click your fingers in his face, “are you even listening to me? For Mother’s sake Cassian, will you at least pay attention when I’m talking to you?”

“I’m paying attention,” he manages, caught off guard by the arousal that’s stirring in his stomach at the terseness of your question. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t think—”

“No, you didn’t. Now hurry up and let’s—”

“Don’t cut me off like that,” he breathes lowly, pupils dilated as he stares down at you. The rise and fall of your chest as you glare impatiently…holding your ground…

“Cassian!” You inhale sharply as his large palm snakes around your waist, pulling you into his heat, nosing at your neckline, his scent wrapping around you, and— “Cassian…” you whisper, back curving with arousal

“Where’d that attitude go?” He asks breathlessly. “Bring it back for me. Won’t you do that, sweetheart?”

“Cass…we’re going to be late…” you manage to get out, knocked off your feet by the abrupt display of hunger

“We won’t,” he murmurs, pressing hot kisses to your throat as he works his way down. “Besides, what were those thirty minutes originally put in place for?”

You flush at the reminder—at how frequently things like this would happen so you would both agree to prepare in advance in the case of certain appetites arising

“Though if you want to keep using that tone on me…” his hips roll against yours, pressing the hard outline of his cock into your tummy, groaning at how it feels. “I don’t think I’d mind…”

Azriel:

“Azriel.” You hiss, gripping his hand by the wrist, tight. “Don’t even think about it.”

The shadows scuttle away from beneath your skirts, while the others peer up at the painting Helion’s currently showing off.

“You can’t just put your hands on me whenever you feel mildly compromised,” you whisper sharply, hoping the others won’t notice how you’re lagging behind.

“He just invited you to his bed,” Azriel growls lowly, pupils contracted as he stares razors into the High Lord of Day’s turned back. “And you hardly mustered up a refusal.”

“I was being polite. And of course the offer wasn’t serious,” you hiss back. “Besides, he’s invited you to bed plenty of times, and you never see me getting all territorial about it.”

“I wish you would,” he breathes, voice roughening as he flicks his wrist out of your grasp in favour of gripping your hip lightly, pulling you a little closer. “At least then he’d get the idea.”

“He’s doing this because you’re making it so apparent we’re recently mated,” you snap, “obviously he’s going to enjoy at last being able to get a rise out of you.”

“I need him to know that you’re mine.”

Heat flutters between your legs, suddenly feeling breathless. Your tongue flicks out over dry lips, and that familiar warmth zips down the bond, still so new and sensitive to every change, keyed to one another.

“You keep that sort of nonsense in the bedroom, Azriel,” you manage to hiss to him. “I do not belong to you. I am your mate.”

You can feel even on your side how overpowering, how dominating those instincts are, made worse by the unwelcome and incessant advances from another male. Can feel how he’s straining under the urge to claim you in a very obvious way.

“You belong to me, as I belong to you,” he growls lowly, darkness thickening at his back as those great wings flare menacingly.

“If you belong to me then I command you to be quiet and behave,” you hiss, the crackling tension between you having you snap, frustration simmering beneath your skin as you’re forced to keep your hands off each other until this bothersome tour comes to an end.

It seems to be the last straw for Azriel, however.

He releases a snarl that sounds mixed with a groan, starving lust barreling down the bond as he’s no longer able to keep his side entirely concealed, large palm shackling your wrist as he drags you away from the others, too hungry to wait

The command had been his breaking point, arousal burning through his blood at the sharpness you’d used

He hopes you’ll use it on him again, even once the initial frenzy has at last faded…

Eris:

“Either make me cum, or I’ll find someone else who will,” you hiss, nails scraping over his scalp, gripping the silky locks in your fist

“I wouldn’t recommend that, fawn,” he murmurs beside your ear, pressing his body tight to yours, so you’re trapped between him and the wall as his thigh is pushed flush with your heat. “Besides, you’re already dripping all over me. You think you’ll be able to find anyone else who’ll give you the intensity of one I can?”

“I don’t care at this point,” you counter. “Either give it to me or I’ll have to use something else.”

The impatience catches him off guard. You’re usually so sweet and docile—he wonders where the spark has come from. It seems rather fun to tamper with

“Like your fingers? Your pillow?” He asks, voice deepening as he presses his hips to yours, grinding into the softness of your tummy as you try to rub over his thigh, to get some kind of pleasure. “I’d love to see you try,” he whispers breathlessly

“Fuck you,” you hiss, heat fluttering between your legs, mind turning dizzy with hunger as your arms wrap tight over his broad shoulders, leg weaving round his to try and get him closer—

“Quit it,” you snap, flame blazing in your eyes as your lip curls when he pulls his thigh back, leaving you without stimulation. “You’re being a fucking pain,” you hiss, tugging on his hair

His eyes flutter, hips bucking against you with hunger as he dips down, attacking your neck with kisses and nips, arousal having him firmly within its grasp at that demand

You moan at the sensations, back arching up into him as you feel the pronounced outline of him against you, twitching as he grinds against you

“Fuck, Eris…” you pant, so near the verge of pleasure.

“Get on the bed,” you whisper, hands shakily pushing him away, so he’s stood to his full height, looming over you

When he doesn’t move, you snarl, too impatient to wait for his games. “I said get on the bed.”

The intensity of his arousal hits you then, practically knocking you clean off your feet, both of you seemingly taken aback at just how heavily affected he is

“You like this?” You breathe, pulse spiking as you peer up into his eyes, irises almost fully eclipsed by hunger

He doesn’t need to answer as your hand slips between the two of you, cupping him, feeling just how hard he is, how hungry he is… You curse lowly

“Oh you’re going to pay for every damn teasing thing you’ve ever done to me,” you whisper over his mouth, pushing for him to walk back until his legs come into contact with the bed

“And you’re going to pay tenfold.”

Lucien:

“I just don’t get it, Lu,” you sigh frustratedly, pacing back and forth as he watches you from the plush armchair. “I’ve tried so many different things, she just seems to have it out for me.”

“Are you sure you’re not overthinking this?” He suggests wryly. “We both know you have a habit of assuming the worst when it comes to how other people perceive you.”

“I’m not overthinking this one,” you snap. “She blatantly cut me off and turned her back on me during tea the other day. I don’t know what it is other than she just dislikes me.”

“And wouldn’t it simply be the end of the world if one female didn’t absolutely adore you,” he drawls, stretching out in his seat, long legs crossing at the ankle

“Don’t take that tone with me,” you say sharply, spinning around to face him, glaring

Lucien stiffens under the fire in your gaze, the anger simmering away as you stare him down, surprised by how hot his skin feels beneath that look

“I know for a fact I haven’t done anything wrong this time—and I’m certain of that,” you huff, beginning to pace back and forth, allowing him a moment to grapple with the reaction searing through his body

“Why is she trying to bring me down? I don’t understand it. I’ve never done anything, said anything that could harm her standing in some way, so why is she trying to bring me down?”

He listens to the harsh puff of breath, the sharp sighs coming from your lips, the clean cut of your steps as you spin at the end of a pace—pulse increasing as he slips a long finger beneath his collar

“We females are already at a disadvantage,” you go on, brow tightening now with anger, “can’t she understand that? We should stick together to help one another, not step on each other to further ourselves. It’s so backward! Why are you fighting against me when the problem is with the males in charge? Do you see what I mean? Lu? Lu—”

A hot flush warms your cheeks, thoughts instantly fading from your mind, replaced by the view before you

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, attempting to readjust the tightness of the already close-fitting riding trousers he wears. “Continue,” he manages thickly, “I’m listening.”

But you’re done with the conversation already. Done the second you looked at him, the outline of his arousal for you so clear and prominent

“I’m glad you are, but I’m certainly not,” you murmur, already walking over to him, putting yourself into his lap, straddling his hips as you pull your skirts up, feeling that delicious press between your legs

“I think I’m in need of a distraction anyway.”

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya

#rhysand x reader #cassian x reader #azriel x reader #eris x reader #lucien x reader #acotar #drabble

[greenerteacups]

I power read Lionheart months ago and it's been living in my brain ever since. In random moments, I see/think about your characters in the world around me. Like: a couple in the park holding hands? I start musing on your Draco's PDA thoughts. I remember the handholding moment as the Third Task started. I see a threadbare book in the thrift store? I wonder how fired up Hermione would be if someone asked her if wizards had an obligation to fix Muggle goods. If Reparo can fix a roof (and costs a witch nothing), should impoverished Muggles have to fight with their insurance company after a storm? On and on. I love it.

Thanks for opening up your asks for questions! Seriously, that's a badass move. There have been a few stressful moments in my life where--bing!--I check Tumblr and read one of your answers and I'm immersed in your HP world again, carefree and curious. <3

I have about a billion things I could ask/am curious about, but I'll restrain myself to two. This time. ;-)

Draco's mentioned once or twice that Harry & Ron don't understand him and Hermione. I was interested in that moment right before Draco follows Hermione to the Owlery. Harry stopped Ron from saying anything, and Draco recognizes that he's probably just as ignorant about Harry and Ron's friendship. So: 1) Is it too spoilery to ask what Harry (dear, sweet boy that he is) has noticed about Hermione & Draco? Does he think of them as one nerdbrain, or is he like Draco? Hermione? Weren't they married like, ages ago? I'm so fascinated by what others see when they look at Draco and Hermione because good GOD, what a power couple. And 2) Could you speak to Harry and Ron's relationship? Is Harry like, "Ron, you've gotta kill that Hermione pipedream," or is that topic irrelevant in the face of Quidditch gossip and less relationship-driven moments? Their (Harry and Ron) connection just seems so...necessary. It's beautiful.

I hope you're doing well! Thanks again for sharing such an immersive, gripping story with us.

Aw, this is so touching, thank you! I'll try to answer your questions as best I can without spoilers or breaching any rules on author-answer-ethics. Standard disclaimers: anything not in the text doesn't count, if I want you to believe something I have to give you a reason to believe it in the body of the fiction itself, and you're free to disagree with anything I say here. For the purposes of these types of questions, I'm basically just a fan who knows what the author had for breakfast this morning.

Harry knows that Hermione and Draco are... something. I think this comes through most in the arc of Book 4 where Ron separates from the group, and it becomes a tricycle of Draco, Hermione, and Harry. Harry is miserable, and it's not just because Ron leaves (although that's a large part of it); he's now in the position that Hermione occupies for most of the original series, where he understands very clearly that his other two friends, while both loving him very much, are First in each other's minds. He has a number of remarks that start to show his irritation with this, though he tries his best to be understanding — it is a similar dynamic to him and Ron, after all. (Fun story: I didn't realize until late in my drafting how much Hermione and Draco's dynamic echoes Harry and Ron in canon, from meeting on the train, the paying-for-candy moment, the Sorting, the class partnership, etc.)

All this to say that Harry looks at Hermione and Draco and sees a wall, in the same way that Draco looks at Harry and Ron and sees a wall. He doesn't understand it, but he knows that's deep water, and he knows he's usually better off not touching it. (Some of this comes through in Ron's conversation with Draco by the pumpkin patch; there's a blink-and-you-miss-it reference to "whatever the hell you and Hermione have got going on," along with a quick gloss on their weird pseudo-spiritual mind-meld connection, which was meant to give a glimpse into how the rest of Gryffindor sees them: eerily well-suited people with separately terrifying abilities who, when together, sail merrily off into their own universe of intelligence/plots-and-schemery and become a black hole of You Don't Want To Fucking Know. I sometimes amuse myself by thinking of Dean and Seamus giving the first years PSAs on Do Not Approach the Wild Swots In Action.) And he, like most of Gryffindor Tower, would have to be blind not to see how much they favor each other. They're always together. There's really nothing that they can do to hide it.

Which is probably why he pulls Ron back in the Owlery moment. He understands that what Hermione is dealing with is something that Draco, perhaps only Draco, can fix. She needs to hear a very specific kind of reassurance, and she needs to hear it from him. In the same way, when Hermione tried to calm Harry down before the plan to rescue Sirius in the third book, she failed miserably; they love each other intensely (they're siblings! the muggle-born twins!) but they're extremely different, and of all the Quartet dynamics, they're the ones who seem most at peace with that. Harry and Hermione's friendship works because they get what the other needs and they get that sometimes it's not them. (Harry more than Hermione, because she's still working on the concept of "sometimes people do not want my help" in general, but still.) There's a reason basically no one ever speculates about them being involved outside of a joke, because no one who knows them would think they could work romantically. They love each other, but they weird each other out, and they're content with that.

In contrast, Ron and Harry's friendship is more of the soul-bonded, life-partners, "he is more myself than I am" kind of friendship. Catherine and Heathcliff dig-up-the-corpse-to-lie-down-with-it type of shit. When Ron gets a death scare in the finale of Book 3, Harry goes fucking ballistic. Likewise with Harry's portkey fakeout in the end of Book 4 — Ron loses his shit. They are deeply, irrevocably attached to each other in an almost codependent way, which is the product of Harry's "first friend ever, like literally fucking ever, not nobody else, not one" situation meeting Ron's "first person who ever loved me as Ron and not so-and-so's brother" situation. So just as you put it, really: necessary and beautiful (and messy).

#greenteacup asks #lionheart spoilers

[heliads]

'wckd is good' part 2 - newt

Based on a past request for a Maze Runner fic set in the MCU where Newt was Venom, Reader was Spider-Woman.

part one / masterlist

a/n yes this is wayy longer than i expected lmao but i choose to see this as a good thing

Running has always been easier than staying to face the truth. As you swing back through the dark city, you hear Newt’s words echoing in your head with every snap of web hitting concrete and glass. It is foolish to let one conversation shatter your entire worldview, but even running can’t convince your mind to settle back the way it had been. Newt has done his part well. 

Worst of all, you think he was right about you, about everything. Usually, when the moon hangs low over the city such that its glow can be hidden by the shadows of the skyscrapers around you, your worst fears about this city seem like they couldn’t be more true. On nights like these, you always see a monster lurking in the face of every man, the darkness bleeding from every eye. Now, though, in every face you see only a blond boy grinning back at you. If the worst monster you’ve seen lately was just a kid like you, what does that say about every creature you’ve killed in the name of preserving the peace? What does that say about you?

You don’t get into any more confrontations that night, electing instead to perch on the edge of a dark roof and watch the lights of the cars go by far below you. Your shift ends, but you only return to WCKD headquarters when you’re certain no one else will be there. A few rooms have lights on, but you avoid them as best you can. There is no one you want to see right now. No, not true— there is one person you want to see, but if he’s in WCKD’s clutches, it’s all over. 

Sleep comes fitfully that night, as it has every night before that and will every night again. You see Newt reaching out a hand to you, smiling easily, but then his jaw ripples and the monster’s awful fangs come out again, distorting his charm into something terrible. You wake up screaming; for you or for him, you can’t be sure. 

Even more restless than usual that morning, you decide to go on a walk to clear your head. Normally, walking around in the bright sunshine, seeing the smiling families, the upturned faces, all serves to lift your mood. A strong city is a happy city; this is why you do it, remember? You protect these people, all of them. It’s worth every sacrifice. 

Turning down another street, though, your spirits refuse to lift. How many more people would be here if you hadn’t been in charge of taking them out? How many times did you get it wrong? How many Albys do there have to be before you realize that you can’t make judgment calls on someone’s life?

Lost in thought, your guard slips unconsciously. You don’t notice the hand snaking out to grab your arm until someone’s already pulled you under a shadowy overhang. Immediately, you’re on high alert, grabbing a knife from your belt to press against their throat, but your attacker just laughs. It is this sound and this sound alone, that call like the high-pitched ring of a bell, that stops you from slitting his throat. 

“You shouldn’t have done that, Newt,” you warn him as you pull your knife away from his neck. 

For someone who’s life almost ended, he seems remarkably unaffected by your words. “It’s lovely to see you, too. Didn’t realize you remembered my name.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s my job to know things. Don’t take it personally.”

“Yes, Y/N, because it would be terrible to not be as affectionate as you,” Newt muses. “Forgive me for wanting to be friendly.”

“Being friendly gets you killed.” You remark plainly. “So does trying to sneak up on an assassin. Don’t let that happen again.”

You turn away and walk back onto the sidewalk. Newt, however, just joins you without a heartbeat’s delay. “It’s not up to me whether this happens again. I think you wanted to see me a little more than you care to admit.”

You shoot him an angry look, but Newt remains resolutely cheerful. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” Newt asks. Without giving you a chance to interject, he carried on blithely, “Or maybe you’re right. Here, I’ll give you a chance to prove it. I’m meeting up with some friends tonight to discuss our favorite enemy. If you don’t want any of this, feel free to stay away. Or don’t.”

He casually passes you a folded paper that’s been creased from staying in his pocket. A quick glance towards its contents reveals a place and time. 

You arch a brow. “If this little gathering is happening so you can denounce WCKD, I don’t think giving the location to one of its best soldiers is really the brightest idea.”

Newt lifts a shoulder. “That’s what they said too, but I know what I saw last night. They don’t have a chokehold on you, Y/N, despite what you might try to tell me. Somewhere in there,” he says, brushing a hand against your temples, “you want out. Let me help you with that.”

You press your lips together, thinking. Going could be suicide. What if this is just a trap to take out WCKD’s finest agents one by one, and Newt’s just telling you this so he can lure you into letting your guard down?

At the same time, your mind whispers selfishly, what if he isn’t lying? What if there was a world without WCKD? You haven’t dared to let yourself imagine such a thing in a long time; security cracked down after Thomas and Minho ran away a year or so ago. There’s no way they’d let you go without a fight. If Newt’s friends had your back, then maybe, just maybe, you might win this one. 

“You told your friends about me? Moving awfully fast, aren’t you?” You question. 

Newt grins. “Don’t take it personally, baby. I tell them a lot. Doesn’t mean we aren’t special, of course, but you wouldn’t be the first girl I’ve brought home.”

You laugh, surprising yourself. “No need to get carried away.”

“Too late,” he says, smiling back at you, and then he turns down a corner and disappears into the crowd. You’re left clutching the note, wondering if this mistake might cost you your life, and if you’re leading any sort of life that’s worth saving to avoid a chance like this. 

You shouldn’t go. Odds are, WCKD has someone tailing you, and even though you’re always careful to shake anyone you even suspect to be following you, there’s no way to tell for certain that you got rid of everyone. You check your clothes and personal items thoroughly for recording devices every time you leave WCKD headquarters, but what’s the precautions of one girl against such a massive organization?

You check the note once, twice, and then again. The time is later tonight, the pickup location outside the docks near the south of the city. Newt hasn’t given you many hours to deliberate, although you suspect that was intentional. The less time you have to ponder about whether or not you’ll take him up on his offer, the less time you have to turn them into WCKD if you decide to betray him instead of trying to run.

In the end, you put away your sense of self-preservation and head out again. You aren’t scheduled to go out on patrol until tomorrow, so you’ll have plenty of time in case something happens. You don nondescript clothing and pull a baseball cap low over your head to disguise your face. After taking a long, roundabout way to the docks to avoid suspicion, you stand on a pier, watching the dark water go by.

It was smart of them to pick this place. The sound of the tides, the churning of the boats up and down the water, the roaring of distant traffic echoing off of the tall buildings, all serve to muffle the sound of the strangers as they walk up to you. Normally, you’re able to sense trouble when it comes to you, but maybe your reflexes decide that your assailants aren’t a threat before your head makes that call, because you don’t notice anyone sneaking up behind you until they’ve already shoved a dark hood over your head and clamped a mouth over your hand to silence any shouts.

The second the hood is pulled over your eyes, you’re swimming in dark danger. You can feel the heartbeats of the people around you; four of them, men, young men. Boys. Newt’s age. Your age. They’re desperate, you can taste their fear like metal on your tongue. One of them has a limp. If you strike now, you could break a leg, roll away long enough to get the hood off of your head, then kill them all. They’d be dead before they even hit the ground. The blood would run scarlet into the river and ruin your last chances of leaving this hell. You’d be alive, though. Isn’t that why you do all of this, to live? Isn’t that the only motivation any of us have ever had?

A whisper in your ear, sharp and urgent:  “Trust me. Please.”

Newt.

You don’t trust people. You shouldn’t. He knows this. If Newt set you up to die, though, he would have killed you already. Newt’s monster doesn’t need to sneak up on you and blind you to kill you. One snap of those jaws would do the trick. If Newt wants you to play by these shifty rules, there must be a reason. Strangely enough, you realize that you believe in him enough to want to know what that reason is.

You comply, going limp long enough for the others to seize hold of your arms and take you with them into a waiting car. They intentionally take a confusing, circuitous route so as to confuse you. Still, you carefully note each turn, how long you stop at traffic lights or stop signs. Then you’re bustled out of the car again and into a building with tall ceilings; you can tell from how your footsteps echo against the top that the sound has a long way to go.

Eventually, you’re sat down on a chair, your hands bound behind you. The others hover nearby, you can sense their presences. There are more of them now, probably a dozen. Mostly inhumans, with the occasional exception. Not bad numbers, but not enough to really challenge WCKD. That’s why they’ve gone to you, though, you suppose. Foolhardy, but not completely insane.

A voice, loud and challenging, calls you sharply back to reality. “Y/N. You work for WCKD, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you answer deadpan. “None of you do. That’s why you were so kind as to bring me here, right? You were desperate. Now, can you take this hood off of my head? I would hate for you to miss anything I said.”

The loud boy scoffs. “There’s no way we’re letting you get a good look at us. You’d just turn us in.”

You cock your head to the side, staring exactly where you think the boy’s eyes are. “Would I? I don’t need my sight to do that. There are fifteen of you in this room right now, but that’s not all of you. About five leaders, I think. All teenagers. One adult, though. He drove. And one little boy. I can hear your heartbeats. I know who you are.”

A young voice lets out a muffled complaint from the far side of the room. “I’m not a little boy.”

Instantly, he’s shamed into silence. “Shut it, Chuck. Don’t give yourself away.”

A weakness. You grin, even though they can’t see it. “Chuck? That’s the boy, then. If I looked up connections between boys named Newt and Chuck, how long do you think it would take for me to track all of you down? I’d start by checking security cams near the docks. We’re in the warehouses near the docks. I’d guess the third from the left in the second row, yes? Usually used for temporary storage of agricultural products, but you’re in between seasons, so it’s empty for now and you’ve been borrowing it for meetings.”

A collection of gasps confirms your theory. You press on. “I know where you are, I know who you are. Bonds and a hood won’t keep me. Hell, I don’t even need you to undo me. I can manage that by myself.”

See, your would-be captors were so distracted by their own seeming safety that they didn’t check to make sure your wrists were fully together when they tied you down. Also, they were so stunned by you being able to catch onto them that they didn’t notice you slowly pulling a blade from your sleeve, nor spot when you sawed through your bonds. You stand up easily, toss the ropes to the ground, and pull the hood from your head.

You’re greeted with fifteen shocked faces. Well, fourteen. One’s grinning proudly. Newt. He winks when you catch his eye, but he’s careful not to let his friends see. Another boy, with close-cropped hair and a dark glare, looks particularly unhappy about your little escape. This is the one who had been speaking to you, you assume, and there’s the man in the back who drove you here. Silver touches his dark hair near his temples, but he looks intimidating enough anyway. Close by him is a girl about your age.

The angry boy who had spoken earlier groans in disgust. The angrier he gets, the more his eyes start to flicker, turning from green to a fiery red. Sparks flash along his clenched fists. Another inhuman, then. Fire powers. He’s probably somewhere on your list. “Who tied her up? Winston, you know to make the bonds stronger than that.”

“Wasn’t his fault,” you call out, and hold up the knife you’d disguised in your sleeve to make your point.

The boy groans again. “What is that? No one checked her for weapons?”

“You certainly didn’t, Gally,” Newt points out.

The boy– Gally– tosses Newt an irritated look. “Don’t start with me, Newt. I bet you’re just delighted with her for this bit of showmanship, aren’t you?”

“Very,” Newt says, grinning over at you.

Gally looks like he can’t decide who he wants to throttle more, you or Newt. “Fine. Fine. Let’s get started, if that’s what you really want. How do we know we can trust you?”

“You’re the ones who kidnapped me,” you argue. “I think I should be asking that question first.”

Gally might actually try to kill you this time, so Newt quickly steps in before things can escalate further. “Play along, will you?” Newt asks. “We’ll get nowhere if both of you are bickering the whole time.”

You sigh. “Alright, fine. If I wanted to turn you guys in, you’d already be dead. WCKD doesn’t cut corners, you know that. We would have burned your entire establishment to the ground. Happy?”

“Very,” Gally remarks dryly. “We’re familiar with your typical way of handling things, thank you very much. We know how WCKD operates.”

“If you know so much, why do you need me?” You ask. “Newt knew where to find me even on my off day. I’m assuming you’ve done your research thoroughly or you’ve got a source, in which case you’d have no reason to reach out to me, too. Why take a risk like this?”

“Because our source is no longer in WCKD,” Newt interjects. “Our information is out of date. We want more relevant gossip, to put it plainly.”

You frown. “You used to have a source in WCKD? Who?”

Newt goes silent, something almost like pity in his eyes. Gally, unencumbered by weak things like empathy, answers your question. “Thomas.”

You draw in a harsh breath. “You know Thomas?”

This changes the whole situation. Thomas– Thomas was everything. He and Teresa were the very first to show up to WCKD. You were the third, but they’d been there for at least a year before you. It changed them, you think. It made them closer than anyone else. When Thomas left, it destroyed Teresa. You and Teresa have known each other for years now, but it’s nowhere remotely close to the bond she shared with Thomas. Nothing can ever match that.

Thomas had been the last of the good ones, you think. After he left, everything was ruined. It was the first sign of the end of days. If Thomas, Thomas the believer, Thomas, the one who was willing to give everything to cause even when it left him broken and bloody, could walk away, what claim did the rest of you have to anything at all?

Thomas’ departure changed the way that WCKD worked. Neither Thomas nor Teresa had been true experiments. Teresa was trained as a Black Widow, and Thomas made himself an indestructible shield, running around the city as Captain America and saving people wherever he went. They juiced him up a little to make him stronger, but nothing as intense as the rest of you. No cuts were made.

Thomas was the last ideal any of you had that humanity could be protected by other humans. Once Thomas was gone, WCKD started up their labs in earnest. Now, almost every one of their teenage recruits is modified in some way. They say it’s because you have to fight fire with fire, that you can’t possibly compete with mutants if you’re not more than human yourself, but many terrible things have been done in the name of scientific progress. This would not be the first.

And now you find out that Thomas had once been here. Thomas had been friends with everyone in this room. You look wildly from face to face, expecting to find the boy you had once pledged to defend until your dying breath. The two of you had saved each other on countless dangerous missions, but now he’s just gone, and you aren’t even entirely sure that you would recognize him were you to see him again.

Newt saves you from the peril of not knowing. “He’s not here,” he answers you gently. “Thomas got out. He told us to try to reach you, though. Said you could be trusted.”

“Not Teresa?” You ask softly. That surprises you. If Thomas could save anyone, wouldn’t it be her?

Newt shakes his head. “He said Teresa was better than him. She would never leave.”

“But I would?” You say bitterly.

“He knew you could save us, not just the city,” Newt supplies. You’re not sure if that makes it all better or worse, but it is an answer to fill the empty silence curling between your ribs, so that helps with something, at least.

You nod curtly. “Alright, then. If you’ve got Thomas on your side, I’ll help. Just– have you seen him recently? Is he still alive? I would ask on my end, but I don’t know if WCKD would tell us if they– if they killed him.”

Gally looks vaguely irritated. “No, the asshole’s still alive. He’s a major pain, won’t stop asking questions or getting in the way we do things, but he’s still kicking.”

You grin in spite of yourself. “That’s Thomas for you. He has a way of getting under your skin. He means well, though.”

Newt laughs. “That’s one way of putting it. He skipped town a week or so back. Said he was going to try to look for an old friend.”

At first, you’re confused about who that would be except for you and Teresa, and then– Oh. It hits you like a tidal wave. “Minho.”

Newt nods. “You knew him too?”

You smile. “The four of us were always the closest. Maybe we can do a little family reunion if I can get away without WCKD always watching my back.”

Gally coughs pointedly. “Let’s get back to business. You can reminisce later about the good old days of killing mutants together. You’re willing to help?”

You incline your head. “As best I can. Tell me what you need and I’ll do my best to get it. It might be slow going at first, I’ve got to divert suspicion, but I have access to just about everything. Perks of working for them since I was small. Satellite feeds, location tracking, anything.”

For the first time all night, you think Gally smiles. “You know what, I think we just might be friends after all.”

Isn’t that a lovely thought? As it turns out, Gally isn’t wrong. Days turn into weeks, and the information you accumulate for Newt’s friends steadily turns into a virtual mountain. You find mutants for them, people with abilities who WCKD would kill but they can save. They have friends, too, who are already on WCKD’s radar and need to be removed from the list. You pretend to kill them to erase any sign of their existence. After that, they can run without getting gunned down when they try to leave the city. WCKD has this place on lockdown, the only way you can escape their clutches is in a bodybag, so you fake that part and everything goes according to plan.

You usually rotate members of Newt’s group when handing off information to avoid suspicion, but your favorite blond shows up the most often. You heard one of the other boys grumbling once that Newt has a habit of insisting that it be him to meet up with you, even threatening to set his monster on someone who argued too hard against it, but that just makes you laugh. Newt’s a sweetheart. He wouldn’t hurt any of his friends to stop them from flirting with you. Hopefully.

One evening, the two of you are walking along the river for such a handoff when Newt breaks the one boundary both of you have had the good sense to maintain and asks you when you’re going to leave along with them. Newt’s friends aren’t interested in making a stand against WCKD, they just want to get the last of their allies out of the city before the whole thing burns down.

The more you research on Newt’s behalf, the more you realize how precarious the whole affair is. WCKD has no surefire way of keeping crime out. Their only solution for stopping violence is to nip it in the bud, so to speak, but innocents get caught in the crossfires more often than not. The murder rate is skyrocketing anyway. Nothing any of you do will matter in the long run, and it just puts the teenagers WCKD hires in harm’s way more than the adults who hide in the wings and keep their hands clean.

It’s like working just downhill from a volcano. At some point, the lava will flood into your streets and engulf you all in an inferno of blood and tears. You pretend that you can just work hard enough to fight that, but it isn’t working. It hasn’t since the start. You can push off the inevitable a few weeks, but it always comes in the end.

That’s why Newt and his friends are so interested in getting out. WCKD keeps clear tags on all mutants and inhumans in the area. The second any of you try to run, they send an assassin out to kill you. Supposedly, it’s all about containing the threat, but none of this has ever been about having a good motive, no matter what you say. Everything leads back to power. If you run the city with all the inhumans, you have more power than the rest. Easy as that.

You’ve been steadily helping people escape. Chuck was one of the first to go, all of you agreed. He was just a kid, hardly twelve. He ended up on WCKD’s list because he figured out how to turn his flesh and bone into any material. Soft skin could become as hard as diamond or as pliable as water in a second if he just thought about it. Often, he didn’t, electing instead to just ignore his mutation in favor of trying to blend in with the rest of the guys he idolized, but WCKD doesn’t forget as easily as a preteen.

There were others, too. Clint, a boy about your age, who could heal from any injury. Frypan found an old spell book and learned how to cook up portals to other places and fantastic rings of glowing energy. Zart could shrink as small as an ant or grow taller than a skyscraper. Jorge had a mechanical suit impervious to most attacks that let him fly so long as he kept it up to date; he taught a girl named Brenda how to do the same. They don’t like being apart.

Only a few remain now. Newt, with his monster. Gally, with his fire abilities. You, with your webs. Thomas has appeared a few times now to help ferry people out of the city. The first time you saw him, you nearly wept. It was like seeing a ghost. You assumed he had died a long time ago, but then you’d walked into the warehouse one day and there he was, making a sarcastic joke to Newt. He’d turned to look at you as you slowly approached, and said it was good to see you again. It had taken everything in you not to break down at that very moment.

So he’s alive, then, and Minho is too. Hypothetically, the rest of the boys you’ve been slowly ferrying out are with them. In reality, you have no idea if any of them managed to survive past the edge of the city, but you can hope. That’s all any of you have at this point, hope that someday, you’ll all live past WCKD’s imposed expiration date.

There is, of course, the idea that once the last of them leave, you’ll be left alone with the organization you’ve been steadily betraying, but truth be told, you thought you’d be found out long before the last of Newt’s crew left, so that decision was never going to be yours to make anyway.

Newt doesn’t care about that, though. Newt has told you that he’d break into WCKD headquarters all by himself if you were captured or discovered. So of course it makes sense that Newt is the one to look you in the eyes at last and ask when– not if, but when– you’d be leaving with the rest of them.

You let out a shaky breath. “I wasn’t under the impression that I would be going with you.”

Newt reacts as if you’ve slapped him. “Why wouldn’t you? You don’t believe in WCKD anymore. Burn them to the ground one last time, then leave with us.”

You sigh. “I would be abandoning the only life I’ve ever known. If I leave, WCKD would know for certain that I’d betrayed them, if they haven’t figured it out already. They have evidence of dozens of murders I’ve committed. If they wanted to, they could release that information and have the police drag me back to them. WCKD doesn’t like it when their experiments try to run away.”

You learned that lesson well enough with Thomas. Newt’s jaw locks at the mention of what WCKD had done to you, but he manages to keep his cool. “Exactly why you should leave. Where we’re going, no one will find us. It’s wild land in the middle of nowhere. There’s a total maze of forest cutting off outside access. We’ve got farmland and a big house for all of us. It’ll be a simpler life than we’re used to leading, sure, but no one can find us there. You’ll be safe, Y/N. We all will.”

You’re not sure if you want to laugh or cry at the fierce hope in his eyes. “Do you really believe that?”

“Yes,” Newt says decisively. “We’re so close, Y/N. Most of us are gone, only a few left. Promise me that you’ll go with us when the last of us leave. Maybe we can fake our deaths or something to stop them from looking. Just promise me you won’t let me leave alone.”

Promises are dangerous. They have a way of being broken. Still, you nod, and press your fingers against his when Newt takes your hand. “I’ll do it. I promise.”

A sunrise of a smile splits Newt’s face. “I’m holding you to that.”

You hope against everything that he does. To be honest, hearing him talk, you almost think that you could do it; make it out alive. The last few kids are shipped out of the city, and then Newt meets up with you, says that only he and Gally are left. It’s time to go. You agree to meet him that night to run. You haven’t let your hopes truly rise all this time, but it’s impossible to avoid now. A life without killing. It seems like a dream, but it might be yours after all.

And then, a few hours before you’re scheduled to meet Newt to leave the city behind, you get a call from WCKD saying they want to meet with you to discuss recent progress. You text Newt from a burner phone telling him that you might be late and to go on without you if you take too long. You know he won’t, but the comforting lie that he might make it out without getting caught up in your capture carries you to WCKD.

Your heels click on the tiled floor. You know everyone here, you have since you were small. That fact used to fill you with pride; after years of watching people get replaced, you alone stayed, along with Teresa. You had what it took to put your life on the line and keep going. You were the best of the best.

Now, it just seems like another betrayal. How could all of those people watch you grow up and still condone what they had forced you to do? You try to imagine making Chuck go out and hunt down kids his age. It makes you sick to your stomach. All of these people are complicit in the blood caking your hands, and they will never, ever be accountable for it.

You’re certain that they must know what you’ve done. You walk to the conference room in a haze. Newt is on the other side of the city by now. Maybe he’s already out. Maybe they’re all out. If there was one good thing you did in your life, you couldn’t be more proud that it was for him. After years of senseless death, you saved the lives of other mutants just like you. It won’t be enough to wash your ledger clean, but it’s a start. It’s a shame it’s all over now. No more chances to improve. Just one last opportunity to die.

You walk into the meeting room and take the only empty seat. Around you are many familiar faces. Dr. Ava Paige sits at the head of the table, her second in command, a sickly man named Janson at one side, Teresa at the other. Teresa eyes you with no small amount of judgment. How righteous she must feel, knowing that of the three kids who started it all, she alone was capable of carrying out the blessed mission without getting corrupted. How challenging, to wonder why both you and Thomas needed to leave and she could never find a reason why.

Other WCKD officials and high-level agents crowd the ranks. There are only a dozen people in here, maximum, but Ava Paige has chosen them well. They’re all older than you, making the aura in here quite sinister indeed.

Once you’ve sat down and the door closes behind you (do you hear a lock slide shut, or are you just paranoid?), Dr. Paige begins. “We’ve had reason to worry about you, Y/N,” she says. “You’ve always been one of our best agents, but your quotas have been down as of late.”

“By quotas, you mean the people that I’ve killed, correct?” You clarify, sending a ripple of whispers around the room.

Dr. Paige’s face tightens. “I refer to the threats you have eliminated from our glorious city, but if that’s the way you’d like to put it, fine. You have killed fewer times, yes. Why?”

“Maybe I didn’t find any more threats,” you reply.

Janson arches a brow. “There are always threats. Have you lost your stomach for it?”

You smile, although the expression is cold. “I have a question, Dr. Janson. Why is it always me?”

He frowns. “Pardon?”

“Why is it always me out there in the field?” You repeat. “All of you in this room would rather send a child out to kill inhumans than do it yourselves. Does that ease your conscience? Does it reduce variables of concern for human life if you force a teenager to kill instead of doing it yourself?”

Ava Paige rises to her feet. “Y/N L/N, you have been a part of this organization since the start. I remember when you were fiercely dedicated to the cause. Don’t tell me you’re walking away now because you’ve decided to reinsert morals into the equation. What about the people who will die because you are no longer willing to protect them?”

“I’ll find another way to protect them,” you shoot back, “One that doesn’t involve murdering people just because you think they might one day become a problem.”

“That’s naive and you know it. You can’t leave,” Dr. Paige says, her face bleached pale.

“Why not?” You ask. “Are you afraid that I’ll tell people what you had me do? What will you do to stop me?”

When she remains silent, you realize that it’s not just you who has something to fear from WCKD’s actions becoming public. They’ve sanctioned killing dozens if not hundreds of times. They can’t afford to call you back without letting all of their dirty secrets go, and that is a loophole you will most certainly exploit.

You stand. “I think we’re done here. I am.”

They don’t try to stop you. Teresa, however, runs out the door after you. “Don’t you leave us, Y/N. You know what WCKD means to this city.”

“I know what it means to innocent inhumans who have to fear for their lives every time they leave their homes,” you retort.

She pulls you into an empty room. In the half-light of the nearby windows, her eyes are frantic. “You’re the only one I have left. The only one who believed like I did. You know we have a responsibility to this city.”

“Not like this,” you whisper sadly. “Teresa, you know this isn’t the way. We can still save the world in our own right, but it shouldn’t come at the cost of this much blood. There are other ways.”

“What, like with that little group of mutants you’ve been running around with recently?” Teresa’s voice is shrill, and you feel your blood ice over in your veins. “I know, Y/N. I know everything. I know you’ve been feeding them information. You’ve been working with the enemy all along.”

“Then why haven’t you turned me in yet?” You ask quietly. “That would be what WCKD wanted, to know about moles or liars. Why are you telling me this now?”

She’s silent for a while, then:  “I wanted to know why you would throw all of this away for nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing,” you tell her. “I made friends there. Real friends, who wanted me to be safe.”

“They’re not your friends, I am. Those are perfect strangers who could be planning to kill you the second you all leave the city. You can’t trust any of them.” Teresa argues.

You look her steadily in the eyes. “Maybe not, but I trust Thomas.”

That finally gets through to her. Teresa rears back. “No. He wouldn’t–”

“He would,” you continue. “I’ve seen him, Teresa. He knows all of my friends. Thomas is the one who wants us to get out alive.”

She shakes her head, but the fight is gone from her eyes, you can see it. “No. That can’t be true.”

“It is, Teresa,” you say, then on a sudden urge, “Come with us. There’s still time. WCKD is going to destroy itself in a matter of months, you know this. I don’t want you there when the whole thing goes up in flames. Come with me. Stay alive.”

You reach out to her, but Teresa backs away slowly. “I can’t abandon the cause,” she whispers.

It hurts like a broken bone, but you can’t say you didn’t see it coming. “Goodbye,” you tell her at last. “Thank you for being my friend.”

She nods once, tight and controlled. “You should go now. Before they try to stop you.”

There is nothing else to say, so you take one last look at her and run. She’s saved you one final time by not turning you in, but she’ll do no more for you from here on out. This is the end of you and her, although if you were going to be honest, you would know that your friendship effectively ended when you first started going against WCKD. Everything past that was a betrayal of your work with her, and Teresa knew it all along but didn’t say a word. She has always been the best at sacrifices, hasn’t she?

You should still have time to get to Newt before their car leaves. He’s probably stalling with everything he has so you can make it to him, and you won’t let him down now. You practically sprint out the door and down the sidewalk, hurtling towards the pickup location. Secrecy doesn’t matter anymore. WCKD caught on to the fact that you no longer want anything to do with them, and they’ll be sending someone after you to kill you soon if they haven’t already.

You whip around a few corners. You’re meeting at the docks one last time, it’s just a few corners down. You take a shortcut across a parking lot, but several dark cars screech into the space behind you just as you enter. WCKD already. You swear under your breath and pick up speed, turning down an alley so they can’t follow you except on foot.

One of your stalkers is crazy enough to run after you. He’s bigger than you, and gains ground quicker than you’d like. You take several quick turns, but can’t shake him. The alley opens up to the docks, and you sprint towards the empty pavement of the loading area. You’ve hardly left the shade of the alleys behind when someone collides with you from behind, sending both of you toppling to the ground.

You shove the man off of you, staggering to your knees to come eye to eye with Janson. “Experiments can’t leave,” he growls. “We’ll learn from your bones if not your missions.”

He draws a gun from his belt and points it at you. “Come with me, now. Don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be. I can collect your corpse if that’s easier.”

You wonder if Newt is still here, if he can hear you. You hope that he’s already gone. It’ll be far worse for him to watch you die. He’s already watched too many of his friends lose their lives to WCKD, you cannot be another one.

You hold up your hand slowly. “Don’t do something you’d regret.”

“I should be telling you that,” Janson snarls.

You wait for him to be distracted trying to move across the uneven ground, then lunge for the ground, shooting a web at his hand to muffle the trigger. He shifts at the last second, and the spider web hits the trigger instead, sending a rogue shot against the side of a nearby shipping container instead of you.

You duck on instinct, rolling away in case he tries to shoot again. Janson looks half mad as he aims at you again. “You can’t leave us,” he says, “We made you. You cannot abandon your creators.”

There’s a shadow moving somewhere behind him. With a chill, you realize you know who it is. Newt doesn’t know that Janson has reinforcements; although they’re still a little behind, they’ll catch up soon enough. You cannot afford for Newt to be caught, not now.

You shout as loud as you can, “Don’t do it! You have to run!”

Janson glances at you, confused. “Who are you talking to?”

You ignore him, calling again to the shifting mass of shadows steadily growing darker by the edge of the shipping containers. “You have to go! Leave me!”

“No,” answers the darkness slithering across the ground, forming into a massive monster behind Janson.

Janson whips around, and his eyes grow large at the sight of Newt’s monster. It snarls at him, displaying rows of wickedly sharp teeth. He tries to shoot, but the monster grabs the gun with one muscular hand, forcing it away and snapping several of the bones in Janson’s hand at the same time.

Janson screams in pain. “This is what you leave us for, Y/N? This monster? You’re no better than everyone you killed. You’ll always be a disease upon this earth.”

“Actually,” the monster corrects, “You are.”

Before your eyes, the shadows start to run away from Newt all at once, but instead of disappearing like normal, they coalesce onto Janson instead. Janson’s head is flung back as the monster enters him, eyes shot with dark veins. When it’s over, Janson is comatose on the ground, arms and face shadowed with the monster, and Newt is running over to you, human, anxiously searching you for any sign of harm.

“I’m fine,” you promise him, “But– what did you do?”

“I gave it up,” Newt says wryly. “I didn’t need the hate anymore. I just needed you to be alive.”

At last, you understand. Newt needed the monster so he could protect his friends from WCKD, but that’s over now. The last car is about to leave, and then the city, the dying, all of it will be a nightmare that has finally ended.

He grabs your hand. “We need to hurry. Jorge’s waiting, but he won’t want to stick around much longer.”

You run with him towards the waiting car. Gally’s in shotgun, and although he’s always sworn that he doesn’t need any of you, you swear he almost smiles in relief when he sees you and Newt slide in. “Way to cut it close, you guys,” he admonishes you.

Newt rolls his eyes. “We’re here now, aren’t we? Let’s go.”

“I’m perfectly fine with that,” Jorge says, and pulls away into the night.

You watch the dock disappear behind you into a web of roads and street lights. You thought it would be impossible somehow, leaving, like there would be an invisible wall to keep you here. When the lights of the city fade into a dim skyline, then vanish behind the safety of miles of distance crossed, you realize at last that you’ve done it, you’ve left. Now, all that exists for you is a wild dream of a simple life, one with your friends where no one tries to hunt you down.

Newt takes your hand and squeezes it. “We’re out,” he says.

“We’re out,” you repeat in somewhat of a daze. “Where are we going again? What’s that place where everyone’s waiting?”

Newt chuckles. “It’s a bit of a mess right now. It’s just us in the middle of nowhere, but that’s the way we like it. Thomas managed to acquire a property surrounded by parkland so no one could build nearby. It’s just us. Nice place, though. Lots of green space. We’re thinking about calling it the Glade.”

A soft smile crosses your lips. “The Glade. I like that.”

It sounds good. It sounds, at last, like a quiet end to your otherwise violent story. Sometimes, though, quiet isn’t always bad. It lets you know that you’re alive, that you made it. Quiet tells you that you’re going to be okay.

first part requested by @thornyrose463

maze runner tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @mayfieldss, @hiya-itsamber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @imwaysthelastchoice, @fadedver

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#newt #newt imagines #newt x reader #newt oneshot #maze runner #maze runner imagines #maze runner x reader #maze runner oneshot #tmr #tmr imagines #tmr x reader #tmr oneshot #tmr au #modern au #marvel au #mcu au #tmr newt #tmr newt imagines #tmr newt x reader #tmr newt oneshot #maze runner newt #maze runner newt imagines #maze runner newt x reader #maze runner newt onshot

[discocandles]

I said I'd write this LK headcanon into a scene/ficlet so I'll write it dammit(under a read more bc long):

"Henri, get off the roof of the carriage." Sarah scolded. "You'll get knocked off by a tree branch."

"Sarah, you know that no tree branch can defeat the Great and Powerful Henr-agh!!" Henri sputters as he tries to get the tree branch out of his face. The redhead chuckles, "I told you so." going unspoken. Henri huffed as he clambered back into the carriage.

As he settles in, Henri glances over as Sarah is writing another letter to her Maman. She puts more ink on her quill when she writes to Lady Phillips, Henri's realized. They've known each other for almost a year, but Henri has found noticing Sarah's habits to be entertaining on boring rides. It started when Henri asked Moses why Sarah would side with the British.

It had made no sense. Sarah was always nice to him. She'd speak to him in French when he can't think in English, forget talking. The redcoats l'a traité comme de la merde. Moses just asked if the British treat Sarah like they do him. They don't; redcoats smiled at her and asked what a respectable girl was doing with "rebel scum". Henri guessed he'd think the British were good if they treated him like he was good too. But Henri also realized was it was fun to notice things about Sarah.

Sarah has lots of habits, like if she tapped her feet in a rhythm, she was hungry. Or the letters to pass time on boring carriage rides, like this one. Henri wants to climb the carriage again.

"You're awfully quiet, Henri." Sarah's voice broke through Henri's thoughts. "did you get hurt by the tree branches?"

"Non non, je vais bien. Je m'ennuie simplement. James is so lucky to have been rid of this trip already." Henri replies.

"He will be getting to learn more about the camp than we are." Sarah muses, looking back down at her letter, but didn't go back to writing. Her left hand reaches for her collar and curls her finger under her necklace and started flipping her locket around its chain. Henri focused on the repetitive motion.

Henri thinks he's figured this habit out. Plus vite que normale! Sarah messing with her locket almost constantly for a little over a week has helped. When he or Moses mentioned James, she'd have a hand on her necklace soon after. Sarah keeps flipping the golden locket with left hand as she starts writing again.

Henri figured the habit was about James before they left. Saras can be obvious if you're used to noticing like Henri is. Maybe he should be a journalist. But it could mean something particular about him. She could be missing him, but it's kinda late for that. Henri missed James after he left 2 weeks ago, but they'll see him by supper, so he's excited to see him. Sarah doesn't look excited at all.

The carriage shakes as Sarah dips her quill into the inkwell, and she huffs. Is she mad at him? There's no way James could annoy Sarah when he's not around, so she's probably not angry. Maybe she's worried about him? That makes sense. They haven't heard from James since he left, not like they could get it since they left yesterday morning though.

"Are you worried about him?" Henri asks. Oops, that's probably strange to ask. C'est la vie as his friends back in France say.

"What?" Sarah's eyebrows bunch together more. The hand holding her locket goes still, and she looks away for a moment to close her inkwell before turning back to look at him in confusion.

"about James. You look... worried?" Henri tries to choose his words carefully. If Sarah wasn't worried before he asked, he doesn't want to make her worried.

He seems to succeed, because rather than worried, Sarah looks almost embarrassed. "I suppose you're correct. It's just that normally when we depart after James, he sends a letter about the state of the camp and we at least know the voyage will be safe." Sarah was switching between speaking fast and slow, like a dance he learned at the own square. "But we didn't hear anything this week, so I am a bit concerned about James's well-being."

"Okay. Just wondering." Henri laughed. Sarah was fiddling with her locket again.

"I promise to give you my share of bread after supper tonight if you don't mention it to him." Sarah said. "I don't need him mocking me over what is likely just slow mail."

"Deal. I will never refuse good food."

Sarah giggles, as the carriage continues to rattle. "You never do."

#hope that was a sufficient amount of bad french for yall #I might post this on AO3 too #liberty's kids #lk #henri lefebvre #sarah phillips #don't ask me which camp/fort they're riding to. i dont remember which one i was thinking of back when i started this #also i know that's a very rudementary reason for sarah to be a loyalist but its from henri's pov not sarah's #james hiller x sarah phillips

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Ok but for the Trancy Nurse AU, what if Reader is multilingual and they scold the triplets in another language (like, say, Spanish or French) when they do that thing where they purposely get themselves in mishaps in an attempt to get Reader's attention?

omgggg I love it

they're such silly boys but we love em <3

hopefully all the translations are accurate!!

Whatever happens to be going through the triplets’ heads at any moment, you don’t think you’ll ever understand.

That said, the fact that you apparently are worth going through the wringer softens any frustration you might have toward them. This isn’t the first time the three of them have deliberately ‘made a mistake’ to get your attention.

The thought makes you mentally sigh, but it appears that they all know they’re guaranteed to get your attention if they’re hurt or sick. You’re the household’s nurse, after all, and you take pride in caring for everyone under the Trancy manor’s roof. What kind of nurse would you be if you just ignored them?

Still, you’re a little exasperated with the fact that THOMPSON, TIMBER, and CANTERBURY keep doing this. If they don’t stop taking risks, they’re going to end up in real danger one day. This time their issues are Thompson with a bleeding hand claiming he got cut by thorns whilst trimming the rosebushes; Timber with a burn on his hand (curiously, the opposite one of Thompson’s) saying he touched the hot stove by accident; and Canterbury, running a 38.5 fever and complaining that he must have caught a cold from accompanying Alois out to town sometime in the past week.

As you finish wrapping a bandage with some salve around Timber’s hand, you murmur, “¿Qué os pasa a los tres, eh?” You’re not even sure they understand what you’re saying, but you’re saying it anyway. They’ve been getting themselves into all sorts of little scrapes and bumps lately.

… Ever since you confessed your interest in the three of them, actually. There must be something to the timing, mustn’t there? You can’t believe three perfectly competent servants have, upon being able to work again, suddenly become so clumsy as to hurt themselves every other day or careless enough to not look after their own health.

You reach to take the cloth from Canterbury’s forehead, dip it back into the ice water you have sitting ready, and then put it back to ensure that it keeps cooling him down. “You’re all getting yourselves into so much trouble within the last few weeks.”

“What does that mean?” Timber hums. “¿Qué os pasa a los tres…? Spanish, right?”

Thompson gingerly wriggles his fingers. (His hand, of course, has already been cleaned and bandaged, while you had Timber soaking his in a separate bucket of ice water.) “Very romantic. But we don’t speak it.”

“Other languages are hard,” Canterbury muses, before coughing a few times.

You can’t help but laugh a little. “No? Not even French, maybe?” You smooth out the bandage on Timber’s hand. “Vous êtes très drôles. Have you lot just not been paying much attention to anything recently? I find it hard to believe that you boys are this incapable.”

“We’re sorry, (Name),” the three of them say in unison.

Canterbury shifts around in bed. “If you find it hard to believe, you should just ask the master.”

“Mhm,” Timber chimes in. “He was always threatening to throw us out. Calls us as useless as a… how did he put it that one time, Thompson?”

“Oh, hm… as useless as a set of cracked teacups.”

You click your tongue at them all. “No podéis seguir haciendo esto.” With that, you tap each of their noses in quick succession, and giggle when the action makes Canterbury sneeze twice. “Hehe, salud. Now, you all have to be more careful, alright? Even though I don’t mind taking care of you, I’d like to think you can take good care of yourselves, too. You don’t want to make me worry.”

They all share a look between themselves, eyes wide as if they hadn’t considered the possibility that their antics were putting you in any kind of distress.

Checkmate, although you have one more thing to say to all of them. And you make sure to say it as you head for the door so that they can all get some rest.

“En plus, si vous voulez passer du temps avec moi, tout ce que vous avez à faire est de demander.”

#Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Triplets #Thompson #Timber #Canterbury #reader insert #romantic #humor #fluff #hurt/comfort #domestic #THANK YOU FOR THIS I LOVE THEM I will hold them gently #and make sure they don't hurt themselves TOO much XD #one hell of a queue

[sparkypantaloons]

Batdad Begins

Bruce has been Batman for three years, has been a Dad for one, and managed to keep his night-job a secret from his kids for a grand total of approximately five minutes.

But still, raising toddlers and being the Dark Knight? It's nothing he can't handle... right?

Or; family fluff of the fluffiest kind. Starts when Dick is five and Jason is two and Bruce is only just figuring out what it is he's let himself in for.

~~

Chapter One

The first time Bruce manages getting Jason down for the night, reading Dick a bedtime story, and making it out on patrol as scheduled, he’s buzzing. By the time he’s managed it successfully every night for over a month, even he’ll admit to being smug.

Granted, he’s not always there to read to Dick in person. But it was simple enough to create a secure line into his comm that’s just for his boys. It means he can read Dick a bedtime story on his way to the City if he has to, and that if either boy wakes and he’s not there, they (or Alfred) can call him.

The line has it’s own special ring tone and everything, which regrettably is ‘We Don’t Talk About Bruno’, but Dick, thinking it was a normal phone (and not a highly sophisticated secure channel so encrypted not even the CIA could hack it) insisted. Either way. Being Batman and a Dad? Piece of cake.

“On the other side of the road was a Park,” Bruce says, his best narrator voice on, as he speeds through the darkness towards the City. ”Very popular with local hedgehogs on account of the good hunting it offered. As well as worms and slugs and snails—“ Dick giggles down the line, as the Batmobile turns left onto the Trigate Bridge. “There were special attractions in the Park.”

“I think snails would be— be—“ Dick’s five year old musings are cut off by a yawn. “Would be tastiest.” He finishes, words slurring into each other with sleep.

Bruce can’t help but chuckle. “Why’s that, chum?”

“Crunchy.” Dick replies, clearly half asleep now from the sound of his voice.

“Crunchy, huh?” Bruce grins, and can’t help but think again just how lucky he is that he gets to officially, legally, call this kid his.

“B?” Dick mumbles.

“Yeah, Dickie?”

“C’m’n see me when you—you” another huge yawn “get home.”

“I promise chum, sleep tight.”

“Nunight.”

The line goes silent, just as Bruce pulls into the alley behind GCPD. A spring in his step as he climbs out the car and heads to the roof.

“Commissioner.” He says, the deep gravel of Batman’s voice comes out of his throat. Drastically different from the story book Dad voice he just used.

“Batman.” Jim says, grim look on his face. But when doesn’t he look grim. “Glad you’re here. We’ve got a situation, just for a change—”

“Batman?” Comes a very different, very young voice.

Batman freezes. That’s not good.

“You okay, Batman?” Jim asks, eyebrow raising as the caped vigilante seems momentarily stunned.

“Batman?” Comes Dick’s voice again through the comm, all trace of sleep suddenly gone. “B, do you know Batman?”

Batman is panicking. He holds a finger up to Jim, tries to make a face that says ‘give me a second’ through the cowl. It doesn’t work but he turns on his heel anyway, trots awkwardly in a half-jog-half-walk to the edge of the roof.

“Dickie,” He whispers. “I thought you’d gone to sleep.”

“Do you know Batman, B?” Dick says louder, his voice high with excitement.

“It’s bed time Dickie, I’ve got to go. Go back to sleep.” Bruce hangs up the call. Turns back to the commissioner. He clears his throat. “What’s the situ—“

We don’t talk about Bruno-no-no-no, we don’t talk about Brun—

Batman rejects the call. Jim raises both eyebrows this time. Doesn’t say anything.

We don’t talk about Bru—

“You wanna get that?” Jim asks.

“Hn.” Batman replies, as the song starts up again for a third time. “Give me a moment.” He turns away from the commissioner.

“Dickie,” Bruce has his cross Dad voice on now. “It’s far too late for this.”

“But B,” Dick’s voice is reedy and thin with excitement. “Batman!” He breathes.

“Buh-buh-buh—” Comes another impossibly young voice.

“Did you wake your brother up?” Bruce scolds.

“No.” Dick replies, not at all convincing.

“Buh-buh-buh-buh—”

“Jas’n stop slobbering on me.”

“Buh-buh-buh—”

“Dickie!” Bruce says, ever so close to snapping because he really needs to get off this call. He keeps his frustration just about in check.

“Yes?” Dick asks sweetly.

Bruce sighs. “Where’s Alfred?”

~~

And that’s how, not three years after he became Batman, Bruce blows his cover. It’s also how Jim Gordon discovers Batman is a Dad, and jokingly suggests they should take their kids on playdates. Every time he does, Bruce feels a headache coming on.

It takes him a little while to convince Dick how important it is, that this is kept a secret. But anytime anyone so much as mentions Batman, the five year old starts bouncing, hands flapping at his sides in excitement. When they go into the city he points out every single poster, newspaper, graffiti, merchandise that has The Bat on it. Even some things that don’t, but look like they could be a bat. He insists on wearing Batman pyjamas, having a Batman bedspread, a Batman backpack for school. He even wears his tiny little dressing gown with the hood over his head, his arms free of the sleeves, so that when he runs up and down the corridors of Wayne Manor after bath time, it billows behind him like a cape.

“Freeze crime baby!” He says, pointing at Jason with a rubber duck in lieu of a batarang. Jason is sat in Bruce’s lap, hair sticking everywhere as Bruce towels it dry.

He makes grabby hands for the yellow duck. “Wack-wack.” He tries to make a quacking sound, squirming away from Bruce’s attempts to comb his hair.

“It’s Arkham for you!” Dick says again, letting Jason pull the rubber duck out of his hand. The two year old shoves it straight in his mouth.

“You’re gonna send your brother to Arkham?” Bruce asks, eyebrow raised.

Dick crosses his arms. “Yep. I’m Batman.” He says seriously. Then he gives Jason a shifty look, and leans over to whisper in Bruce’s ear. “It’s just bed, but bed is as bad as Arkham.”

“Is that right?” Bruce asks, managing to pin Jason between his legs. He starts to drag a comb through his unruly curls. Jason grunts and squirms in protest.

“Yeah, B. Bed is the worst.” Dick says, then he gives Bruce a conspiratory look. “Jason should go to bed though, because he’s baby.” Jason is red faced, trying to escape Bruce’s hold.

“And what should you do?” Bruce asks, now trying to wrestle a pyjama top onto his squirming two year old.

“I should come out with you.” Dick says puffing his chest out. “Duh. We can both be Batman.”

Bruce would laugh but one of Jason’s flailing hands has just smacked him in the mouth. “Jay, darling, can you just—“

“Freeze crime baby!” Dick says again, just as Jason manages to slip out of Bruce’s hold and run out of the bathroom cackling.

“Stop!” Dick squeals delighted as the two year old streaks past him. Then he’s in hot pursuit, bathrobe trailing behind him as he goes. “Na-na-na-na-na-na-Batman!”

Batman!”

Alfred appears at the top of the stairs as the boys speed past, milk and cookies on a tray. He looks at Bruce. “Bath time going well then?” He asks, moustache twitching.

Bruce wanders over, reaches for a cookie. “Nothing I can’t handle.” He says.

Alfred moves the tray out of his reach. “These aren’t for you. You know you get indigestion if you have too much sugar before patrol.”

Bruce scowls at the back of his head.

Two bedtime stories, three cookies and two attempts at teeth brushing later, Bruce is tucking Dick into bed.

“Please, please, pleeeease let me come.” Dick begs, gripping the top of his Batman duvet. “Please, I can help. I can fight Penguin and I can fight Joker and I can fight Riddler—“

“Dickie,” Bruce says gently, for what must be the fifth night in a row. “Batman isn’t fun, he isn’t cool, he isn’t— he isn’t playtime.”

Dick looks forlorn. “But I just want—“

“He’s here to keep you safe. And he— I can’t do that, unless I know you’re safe here at home. With Jason and Alfred. And unless we keep it our secret. Do you understand?”

Dick nods, but still looks sad. “But—“

“No buts, Dickie.” Bruce says. “Please, chum, I really need you to understand, okay?

Dick nods. “Okay.” He says quietly.

Bruce kisses him on the forehead, pulls the covers up to his chin. “G’night, Dickie.

“Night, B.” Dick says, voice still small.

Bruce smiles, and ruffles his hair. Then just as he goes to switch out the light hears a tiny voice say—

“But B, who keeps you safe?”

Bruce is pretty sure he feels his heart break straight down the middle, his throat suddenly tight. He turns back to Dick, gives him a smile. “You don’t need to worry about me, chum. Promise.”

#batfam #batfam fic #batfamily #spbfic #batfic #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson #batdad #batfamily fanfic #baby bats

[ohleander]

3.13.23

When I grabbed my laptop, I felt like I just had so much to say and yet here I am with brain farts and nothing of substance coming out. A silent but deadly? Nah..

One thing on my mind today is how well I'm starting to understand my cycle and how excited I am to keep understanding it. My regular human hormonal cycle is an incredible force to understand. Now that I know that I reset myself every month in more ways than just "emotional and bleeding" I reset myself in the same way the moon gets full and new again each month. I, too need a period of extra rest and its friggin natural! I'm not supposed to be the same every day but I can accomplish SO much in a month if I know how to use my energy right. I am so on the right track and I keep staying uncomfortable because I keep growing like crazy. I'm glad I don't feel the same all the time, even when I go through long periods of turmoil. I'd rather feel too much than not enough. And I go through periods of that, too. Sometimes the idea of emotions is so foreign and sometimes I'm drowning in them.

There have been so many times in my life when I wished to change my body for gender euphoric reasons and for right now, I'm glad I made the choice to try to understand my body and its cycles before I did any alterations to it.. It has only given more validity to my feelings on gender, too! I found out that I naturally feel a lot better when I have more testosterone in me and I feel the most dysphoric most often during my luteal phase. I still have a lot to learn about the science behind it but a lot of folks who take T say that they feel more balanced and right but consistently. I also know males who have low T due to sickness and they have a hard time emotionally when their testosterone is really low. I cant help but wonder if taking T would help me feel more consistent and even. I think when I make the decision, I'd like to try low dose first.. and more exercises rather than top surgery.. I'm still getting comfortable honoring my body as a vessel, I'd like to not change it too much yet.. and some things I can always change.. surgeries I cant change.. I don't feel like I would regret getting top surgery because I've wanted it for as long as I've had boobs. I do fear the hormonal repercussions of getting top surgery, and if I did decide to have a baby I'd like to feed them through my body, if I could. So many thoughts and things to consider and they're all pretty valid. Maybe one day I'll be at a point where I'm making these choices.. for now its just something I think about a whole lot.

Another thing I think of a whole lot is publishing a book... any kind of book and so many books. I could honestly keep writing forever and ever if I had this computer in front of me. Sure I go blank sometimes, but if I just start talking about that, I somehow worm my way out of blankness and into a topic. One day I want to write about plants and of people. I want to write essays, musings & philosophies. I remember sitting and the round table one day with dad and telling him after high school that I wanted to be a philosopher.. I noted that philosophy was a class that could be taken at college.. and somehow I never got to take that class... maybe one day I will. Or else I cal learn it on you tube.

I have a hard time not letting the songs that are stuck in my head dictate my personality for the day. I suppose its kinda my duty to make sure I'm listening to easygoing music instead of ozzy and meg myers. But the hardcore songs are so good to get the energy up.

Speaking of I honestly love my commute each morning. I've got to pay better attention to my driving that I have lately. I'm lucky, I've been a distracted driver as of late (I think its the manic episode, aka ovulation) and I really gotta chill. I've been dissociating more lately too. One thing that's a bit concerning is the fact that ovulation time often feels like a manic high for me, the surge of hormones is through the roof. the extra hormones feel really good but its almost over electrifying.

ahh I took a melatonin tonight and I can feel it working. I am blessed, the past couple of nights I haven't woken up with a lot of cortisol anxiety.. we'll see though.. melatonin can often do strange things to the mind at night.. I'd like to sleep all the way through until 5, please! and then lovely loose and lanky lucid sleep..

LA

[xylune]

Preview: “The Calling”

This is a snippet from the prequel to my fanfiction “Daemonic and Divine”. The writing bug bit me while working on wrapping up the latter, so I started writing this to further flesh out my little head canon of Ardyn and Aera’s past together. Preview below the cut!

"So, she's really the one," mused Somnus over dinner the next evening. He and Ardyn were dining alone this night, as Gilgamesh was on a mission to investigate rumors of an entire village falling victim to the starscourge.

"She is," agreed Ardyn after sipping his wine. "I've been doing my best to tutor her, but she needs to be initiated at the temple, if she's to reach her full potential. Without the sacred rites to empower her, she'll be limited in her abilities."

"Then perhaps it's time for you to speak frankly with her master," suggested Somnus. "Slave or no slave, this woman is a gift to Eos, and no man has exclusive rights to her."

Ardyn checked a sigh. While he agreed with his brother's sentiments, it wasn't as simple as declaring Aera free or dragging her off to the temple. "I can't simply demand the Earl release her from his service, brother. Not unless we can expedite the outlawing of slavery in our kingdom. Until then, he has every right to keep her."

"Then offer to buy her. You were considering that option anyway, were you not?"

When Ardyn grimaced, the younger brother sat forward in his chair and gestured at the healer with his fork, nearly flinging the meat speared on it across the table.

"Pray spare me your moral compunctions, Ardyn. Purchasing Aera would be a means to an end, and once she's yours, you can do with her as you will. Free her, if you wish, or keep her as your mistress, but never forget her purpose here. Whatever you decide, her first duty is going to be that of the Oracle. Ensure that above all things. You know what is at stake."

"Yes, I do know what's at stake," snapped Ardyn, his temper failing him. "Even so, Aera is a human being. I'm actually having to contemplate buying and owning a human being, Somnus. Freeing her won't simply be a matter of me declaring her free, either. There is a process to go through to ensure she's no longer registered as a slave. If the papers aren't properly signed and notarized, she can't safely travel anywhere without me at her side. She could be branded a runaway and end up being sold all over again. Have you forgotten that?"

"You're the scholar," reminded the brunet with a shrug. "I'm merely suggesting the most obvious and satisfactory solution. How you choose to go about it is up to you. So you make the purchase and keep her safe under your roof until the process of freeing her is finished. In the meantime, Lady Aera can continue her training under your watchful eye, and you can finally scratch the itch that's been haunting you."

"Scratch the..." Ardyn trailed off upon realizing what his brother was implying. His mouth thinned. "If I purchase Aera, it won't be for my personal pleasure. She deserves better than that."

"Unless one were to ask her directly," sighed Somnus. "I've seen the way she looks at you, and I can't imagine her resisting you if you chose to bed her. It may even help her develop her talents faster."

Ardyn's eyes popped wide. "How do you figure that?"

Somnus laughed softly, shook his head and put his fork down. He got up and circled around the table to pat the frustrated redhead on the shoulders, and he leaned down to speak into his ear.

"A frustrated mind doesn't focus as well. Why, just look at you, big brother. You've been so distracted by thoughts of her that you hardly eat or sleep any more. Besides, you've been the one teaching her about her gifts. The two of you, dare I say, fit well together. Mayhap she requires more from you than a meeting of the minds, if you catch my meaning."

Ardyn groaned and rubbed his temples, feeling another headache coming on. He didn't tell Somnus that he himself had begun hearing voices at times of late. Somnus might think he was either going mad or blame it on sleep deprivation.

"Very well," he gritted out. "I'll do the evil of having a slave, for the sake of doing the greater good."

Somnus patted him again. "Now you're seeing more clearly. I'm glad, because I wouldn't want to have to purchase her myself just because you're too stubborn to."

Ardyn knew in his heart that his little brother would have done just that, and he couldn't say he would have been wrong to do so. At least Somnus was trying to give him the option, and he did express respect for Ardyn's claim on her.

"I'll visit the Earl tomorrow," he decided. "I must think of the best way to approach the subject, in the meantime."

#Final Fantasy xv #Ardyn/Aera #Probably my favorite het canon pairing #why must I torture myself #fanfiction preview

[mythvoiced]

WHAT DOES LOVE MEAN TO YOU ??

something you think happens to other people

i know how it feels, seeing people who have the most perfect relationships, couples and groups of friends to confide in and feel completely themselves with. and then you look at yourself and wonder what you're doing wrong to not be in their position. but oh i promise you you're not doing anything wrong, you are not the exception to love or genuine care. you are deserving and you always have been, and there are people who are gonna come along and recognise that. you're going to feel seen one day.

Share Your Result

tagged by: @darkdefied & @jeoseungsaja​ TYSM ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; ♥♥♥♥♥ tagging: @intergalacticxmisfits​ @wantedformanysins​ & @zodiachild​ & @whispermesomethingsoft​ @vulpesse​ @nobilitylost​ @nouvelis​ @evcrkill​ @irrwicht​ & YOU

#;ooc #the anarchist;about #i continue to feel the urge to apologise whenever Doe makes an unnanounced visit so apologIES-- #but muse for him has been through the roof lately aND I DO THINK? this is... very good? #even considering his status of being singleship his relationship with Dae is still at an undefined stage #he doesn't know if he's allowed to call it love if i EVEN IS love independently from how he wants to call it #so even with dae he feels as though love is indeed something that happens to other people nay he doesn't FEEL that #he is FIrmly convinced of that - love is not something meant for people like him or better HIM in particular #he IS the exception to love or genuine care because that is simply what was chosen for him #doe is convinced that he is simply not meant to live a life in which such things are waiting for him #he doesn't see himself as a martyr but he is convinced that he is simply too unhuman at this point too removed from #kindness and stability that he doesn't fulfil unspoken criterias for love #it's a mess and i rambled MA BAD FLDKGHKGFLHJLK #;queue

[circus4apsycho8]

more than a hug. | the batter x reader

Fandom: OFF

Pairing: The Batter x Reader

Warnings: jealousy, cussing

It was no surprise to you that the Elsen were very cuddly creatures. Not only that, but they were very squishy, too. You absolutely loved hugging the cute little guys! Who wouldn’t? They were warm, soft, and sweet.

The first time you had hugged an Elsen was after Dedan had finished yelling at the one. You and your beloved Batter had stepped out of the barn before you found yourself rushing over to the pitiful thing. How could you not? The poor guy looked like he was about to cry.

You were quick to scoop him into your arms. “Hush now. He’s just a mean old man. You did nothing wrong.”

He accepted your hug and buried his face into the crook of your neck. You hear him sniffle a little bit. “Th-thank you…hhh…you’re too kind.”

“You’re welcome,” you mumbled, hugging him a little tighter. You heard your Puppet awkwardly shuffle around, causing a deep chuckle to emanate from your chest. A few seconds later, you set him down onto the ground. The little Elsen had a slight blush on his cheeks.

“Miss, th-thank you and your…uh…friend here for purifying the barns. Even if it didn’t get noticed by the Inspector, we appreciate it…” he teeters off when he notices Batter glaring at him. You smack the Batter’s shoulder and smile down at the Elsen.

“You’re very welcome! Take care of yourself, alright? I think it’s about time we got a move on.” Batter remains silent as you bid the Elsen goodbye.

“I will! Good luck with…whatever you’re doing!” the Elsen wishes before the Batter grabs your hand and drags you behind him.

“Thank you!” you yell, waving at him before turning back to your Puppet.

“Dude, chill. You can let me go now,” you comment. He reluctantly releases his grip on you.

“What was that about?” he demands, looking anywhere but at you.

“He was about to cry, Batter! He was scared! I couldn’t just leave him like that!” you retort, rolling your eyes.

“He would have gotten over it.”

You sigh. “Sometimes a little kindness goes a long way, Batter.”

…

The second time you were cuddly with an Elsen is when you and Batter got stuck in the shopping mall maze. Batter was getting extremely frustrated and you just wanted to get the hell out of that blue hellhole.

So, when you and Batter found a lone Elsen who had claimed to be lost, you declared it was time to take a break.

“I’m lost,” the Elsen said, “I could make a fire with the boxes...to ward off the ghosts...but...that would be too dangerous.”

You immediately began to answer, but Batter pulled you back outside for a moment.

“Don’t answer him.”

You roll your eyes, growing annoyed. He couldn’t just boss you around like that. “He’s lost, Batter. We need to help him get out of here!”

“He can find his way out by himself.”

“Batter. He’s scared. Can’t we bring him with us? It’s only temporary. I can do all the talking, too!” you push, trying to decipher how he’s feeling. Batter frowns at your words, and not for the first time, you wish you could see his eyes. “He might attract a Spectre.”

And it was then and there you knew there was something else wrong. Throughout all of your travels, Batter had strived to attract Spectres so he could Purify them. Hell, he’d even shouted out to them in the smoke mines! So why was he so worried about attracting them now? Especially since they were much weaker here, too?

“Since when are you worried about attracting Spectres?” you grill, folding your arms and narrowing your eyes.

He doesn’t answer for a moment, clearly caught off guard. Shaking your head, you look back up at him. “Look, what’s up with you, man? This isn’t like you.”

“I don’t want him to come with us,” he answers. You don’t buy it, but at the same time you know he’s not going to crack just yet.

With a sigh, you say: “I don’t think that’s all, but I know you won’t tell me. Can’t he just come with us? Who knows, he might be of help!”

He remains silent for a few more moments, then: “Fine.”

You grin before darting back into the room. The Elsen looks up at you hopefully.

“Come on, we can help you get out,” you coo, smiling.

“Wh-what about the ghosts?” he asks.

“We can protect you from them. Trust me,” you answer before offering your hand to him. He takes it gratefully before you pull him up.

“Thank you very much, ma’am,” he replies. You hear the Batter scoff quietly from behind you.

“You’re welcome,” you respond.

“Let’s go,” comes Batter’s voice as he nearly stomps out of the room. You roll your ryes. So much for taking a break.

“Ignore him. He’s always grumpy,” you inform, taking his small hand and pulling him behind you.

…

During your trek through the exasperating maze, you noticed Batter was considerably quieter and tenser. Eventually, you had decided that he would tell you about whatever was bothering whenever it suited him. He seemed to be angry too, if the way he was taking out whatever monstrosity showed itself. It was almost like he didn’t want to listen to you but did anyway. His stubbornness grew to the point where you just allowed him to do whatever he wanted with the battles, so you could comfort the Elsen.

And when, finally, you five reached the Judge, the Elsen quickly thanked you and scampered off while Batter spoke to the Judge. You waved at the unfortunate Elsen before turning back to the conversation at hand.

“Is not this publicity so effective and efficient whilst defying the basics of consumer marketing?” the Judge says once he sees you. The two of them are facing some kind of advertisement painted on the wall.

“For silkier hair: the meat fountains of Alma,” Batter reads, clearly unamused.

“Oh, you can read? Anyway, I am glad to have found you. Maybe you can help me unravel the mystery that fate has placed before me,” the Judge comments. He glances up at you and smiles before trotting over to you. You sit down cross-legged against the wall before he crawls onto your lap. Smiling, you pet his soft fur.

“It turns out that my brother has been living in this area for many years. He has a special affinity for colors of the cool kind. Unfortunately, I have so far failed to cross his path. I have tried to betake myself to the roof of the library, where he resides. However, I found the door closed. Even the long hours of intensive, repeated meowing and compulsive scratching did not do a thing.”

“Aw, I’m sorry Judge. Is there anything we can do to help?” you question, scratching him behind his ear. He mewls in response, flipping over onto his back in a silent request for tummy rubs.

“My request is as follows: if at the bend of a corridor you happen to see Valerie, give him my greetings.”

You nod. “Will do.”

“Okay,” The Batter agrees. “Puppeteer, I’m going to go speak to Zacharie for a moment. Do you mind waiting here while I do so?”

You’re mildly surprised, but you agree anyway. “Uh, no, go ahead.”

“Thank you.” He saunters away, trusty bat in hand with Alpha and Omega following him.

You blink. “That was weird.”

“Eccentric of the Batter indeed,” agrees The Judge, “what do you think is amiss?”

“He’s been acting very…out of character lately,” you muse, “I’m not entirely sure what’s going on.” Is he mad at you? Should you be doing something differently? If so, then why isn’t he just talking to you about it? “I wonder if he’s mad at me.”

“I highly doubt that. Your beloved Puppet could never be angry with you for long,” The Judge responds.

You shake your head, causing the Judge to glance up at you. “I don’t know, Judge. If I did something wrong, he just…he needs to speak up. I guess I should ask him about that, huh?”

The Judge nods. “If you truly believe so, then communication is the sole solution.”

“Alright, then,” you sigh, sifting your fingers through his soft fur.

A few minutes later, Batter reappears in the room, the Add Ons at his side. It was then you realized he didn’t buy anything because you were the one holding the credits.

“You good?” you question as the Judge reluctantly slides off of your lap.

“Yes. We should go,” he answers, although you catch a glimpse of his cheeks, which are…wait, is he blushing? You wonder what the odd merchant had said this time around.

Before you left, however, you approached the masked merchant standing idly behind the counter.

“Ah, buenos dias, dearest Puppeteer. How could I be of assistance?”

“Could I see what you have on you?” you ask. He chuckles.

“Of course, belle femme,” he replies, showing you his wares. You’d grown used to the odd nicknames he gave you.

You ended buying a few Fortune Tickets and some meat, placing all purchased items in your inventory before bidding Zacharie goodbye. Before you can move away, however, the merchant catches your hand in his. You freeze, watching as he lifts his mask ever-so-slightly before he brings the back of your hand to his lips.

“It’s always a pleasure to serve this little ragtag team of yours. Sois prudente, jolie fille.” Releasing your hand, he chuckles at your shocked expression, smirking as he glances at your stunned Puppet.

“Th-thank you,” you stutter before Batter places his hand behind your back and pushes you out of the door.

Once you’re outside, you blink a few times before you’re able to speak again. “Dude. What. The. Fuck?”

Batter shakes his head, probably both at your choice of language and recent events. “Language. I don’t know why he’s…” he sighs.

“He’s so weird. Wait…aren’t you fluent in French? What did he say?” you question.

Batter huffs. “The first nickname was ‘beautiful woman’. The second one was ‘Be safe, pretty girl’.”

Your cheeks grow even redder upon hearing the translation. “W-what? Really?”

He nods, remaining silent as the two of you continue to the park.

“Puppeteer…” he starts, voice soft.

“Yeah?” you ask, looking up at him. He avoids your gaze blatantly.

“I…” he trails off before continuing, “I think we should rest in Zone 0 before going to the park.”

You nod, the exhaustion of getting through the maze catching up with you. “Agreed.”

…

Once you two have reached the abandoned Zone, Batter hurriedly guides you past Zacharie, despite his greeting, and ushers to the upper levels.

“Which floor would you like to stay on?” he questions.

“Here’s fine,” you respond, sliding onto the floor. He hesitates before sitting next to you and dropping his bat onto the floor. You lean your head on his shoulder, causing him to tense up a bit before relaxing.

You hear him sigh again. “I’ve upset you, haven’t I?” His voice sounds uncharacteristically sullen for a man as stoic as he usually is.

“Kind of. I just wish you would talk to me. What’s going on with you, Batter? You’ve been acting weird lately.”

He heaves yet another sigh as you straighten your neck and shift. Batter looks up at you while you move. You end up straddling him with your hands on his shoulders. He stiffens at your gentle touches. From this angle, you can finally see his eyes.

You can’t tell exactly what color his eyes are, so you reach up before grasping the brim of his hat. He catches your wrist gently before you can pull it off all the way.

“Do you mind?” you whisper. “I really want to see your eyes.”

His grip on your wrist loosens before he removes it completely. “Go ahead.”

You smile at him in a silent thank-you before you remove it.

His eyes are a pretty shade of amber. They hold a kind of exhaustion that could only be obtained by fighting for something one couldn’t accomplish.

“Your eyes are beautiful,” you comment, smiling, “why didn’t you want me to see them?”

He bites his lip for a moment before looking away. “I am not entirely sure. I guess I just…don’t want you to see my…my real ones.”

“Your real ones?” you question, tilting your head slightly.

“Yes,” he confirms, placing a hand on your cheek. “I don’t want to scare you.”

“You won’t, Batter. Will you show me, please?” you ask, enjoying the feeling of his hands.

“Very well,” he says, “will you close your eyes for a moment?”

You obey quietly, pressing a hand against his. His hands are much bigger than yours as well as drier and calloused from using his bat so much.

“You may open your eyes now.”

Upon opening them, you find that his amber orbs have been replaced with four eyes. The irises are a deep shade of burgundy while the rest of the eye is a pretty crimson color.

“Whoa,” you breathe, removing your hand in order to trace the skin around his eyes. Even though it’s definitely unnatural for a human, he still looks handsome. “Those are even cooler!”

“You think so?” he questions, still unsure.

“Yes. I mean…I’ve never met anyone with red eyes before. I…I think they look even better than your other ones,” you confess, smiling shyly at him.

He studies your face for a moment before a teensy little smile lights up his face. “Thank you, Puppeteer. Thank you.”

You chuckle. “That’s what you get for having a pretty face. Now,” you lean back a little. “What’s been going on with you?”

His little blush is back, which almost makes you giggle. “Well…it has to do with what I talked to Zacharie about earlier.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I…whenever I saw you hugging the Elsen or just…being affectionate with someone else, it made me angry. I wasn’t sure what exactly why I was; after all, you were just trying to be comforting. I knew Zacharie would have an answer, and he did. He informed me that…I should tell you. I wasn’t sure how. Eventually, he told me that…I was…jealous.”

You chuckle. “If you wanted a hug you should’ve just asked,” you respond, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling yourself to him. Burying your face into the crook of his neck, you smile as you feel him return it with a relieved smile. He loosely wraps his strong arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You note that he smells like…bubblegum? Not just any bubblegum, but the kind that’s sort of stringy? Like the baseball gum. You chuckle, inhaling his scent.

Suddenly, he slides his hands up to your neck and he gently pushes you back a little bit, rubbing the tips of his thumbs over your jawline. You move your hands to his chest, right over his heart. It steadily beat beneath your fingertips. After that, your gaze sinks down to see his lips: they’re dry and chapped, but still so, so kissable.

The Batter releases a grunt before he pulls you forward, and your lips collide. He’s gentle and slow at first, testing the waters. When the two of you break apart for a moment, you go in for another one again; this time around, it gets a little more heated.

His hands slide back down to your waist, where he pulls your torso to his. You find your hands tangled in his ivory white hair. You feel him running his hands along your curves, to the small of your back, then retreating to your waist again.

You’re pulled back by the need for air. As you gaze into his red eyes, you recollect just why you love this man. He had protected you, tried to help you when no one else would. Even when he did get a little snappy, it was because he wasn’t exactly sure what to make of both the situation and his own feelings. It was there when you were looking at him, you realized he felt the same way.

He breathes your name, brushing a hand against your cheek again. You can tell he’s at a lost for words.

“I had a feeling you wanted more than a hug.”

#off #the batter x reader #off by mortis ghost #zacharie off #oneshot #reader insert

[glowingbadger]

Can I get a nsfw fic for Diluc where he and reader are vigilantes together? I feel like that would be hot af.

Oh-ho~ what a delightful concept, Friend Anon.

I feel like I've barely had time for fic-style stuff rather than headcanon stuff lately, so forgive me if this is like... idk.. less good xD I hope it's good idk agopwgj

Side note, y'all Genshin people tend to blow up my page every time I post something in this fandom but I get SO few actual requests for it, wtf is up with that

Diluc x GN Reader - vigilantes

NSFW 18+

There aren't many of your typical "dark back alleys" in Mondstadt, but they are there if you go looking for them. If you do, you're sure to make some friends and acquaintances of the sort who also go looking for such tucked away places. And tonight, you're expecting a meeting with a coworker.

You've been tracking a particular Treasure Hoarder for weeks now. He's a cut-throat sort, in that he literally cuts throats, and quite gleefully at that. He's scum, but he's a valuable asset. He's the only Treasure Hoarder idiotic and brave enough to have set foot inside of Mondstadt's walls as of late, and you're not about to lose the opportunity to track him back to his hive. And it shouldn't be too difficult to do so- as long as a certain "Darknight Hero" doesn't decide to step in.

Somehow, you have a feeling he will.

And as you crouch atop the sloping roof of a typical Mondstadt residence, observing your pet rat scurrying through alleyways he clearly doesn't know as well as he ought to by now, you glimpse a familiar flash of red. Moving as quickly as one can with a sword that matches his height while retaining some measure of stealth, Diluc clearly has your subject in his sights. You barely contain a sigh, your brow lowered in flat exasperation.

You'll have to act quickly- Diluc is rapidly closing in on your only source of intel, blade at the ready and eyes devoid of mercy. Never taking your eyes from his dark silhouette in the alley below, you gracefully maneuver from the roof to a nearby balcony banister, then down a railing. Your feet meet the stone pavement silently just as muscles flex and the greatsword hefts into the air above a fiery mane of hair. Without a sound, you draw your own blade and press it firmly to Diluc's throat. He hesitates for just a moment, his surprise causing his footing to waver for the instant you need to tug him back against the wall.

"You-" he hisses with fury in his eyes, "What are you doing?!"

"Keeping you from killing my only lead!" you shout-whisper back to him as the Treasure Hoarder slides around the corner and into the open streets. He's a lost cause now- acting out in the open would draw unacceptable attention to both you and Diluc. For now, the edge of your sword indents his skin, emphasizing the unfortunately seductive sight of his adams apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

"He's a killer." he spits out bitterly.

"Yes," you reply, "And so are all of his friends. And the only way to snuff them all out is to let him live- for now."

His weapon vanishes for the time being, but you know his strength well enough to know that this does not make him 'unarmed.'

"Go join the Knights if you enjoy wasting time so much."

"Oh, perhaps I should," you say, "It was a Knight who gave me the intel to track this target, after all," the playful lilt in your voice guides him to the exact conclusion you want him to reach. What you don't expect is for Diluc to use his considerable strength to spin you back against the wall, jostling your sword from your hand and swapping your positions, with your wrists now pinned to the plaster behind you. You're startled for a moment- but not so much so that you miss the way his eyes scan your body before him.

"It was a strutting peacock that needs its beak removed, more like," he says, his voice low as he looms over you. Your bodies are so close, the space between you seems charged with electricity.

"Is that a touch of jealousy I hear?"

"You're infuriating," he gives this utter non-answer just before his lips reach yours. His kiss is deep and intense from the start, pressing you to the wall as his tongue thrusts into your mouth.

This has always been your favorite way to vent your mutual frustration. There's something about each of you that only the other knows; a part of you both that only the two of you have access to. Those cordoned off sections of your hearts instinctively reach toward one another, binding you and the Darknight Hero together despite all of the myriad ways you find yourselves at odds. Adrenaline and emotion drives your bodies together, and your pulse pounds as his tongue wrestles yours and the warmth of his body catches yours on fire.

You do your best to keep up with Diluc's frenzied need, parted lips working rhythmically against his, yet you can feel the rush of arousal through your body and the fight leaves you almost instantly. In one final act of provocation, you urge your thigh between his, rubbing it gently against the growing heat you feel there. His cock twitches with interest, hardening against the front of his pants. Diluc groans into your kiss, his hands releasing yours to travel down the contours of your sides.

When those strong hands reach your backside, they shamelessly grab at your curves, pulling you firmly against him and encouraging your thighs around his hips. Your feet are barely touching the ground anymore, and you can feel his growing cock grinding into your heat. His impatience is as evident in his touch as it's always been in his fighting style; though, the difference is that now, you're happy to match his pace. Thoroughly trapped between his body and the wall, your hands run across his chest, happily indulging in the plains of muscle beneath conservative clothing.

Then, you nip at his bottom lip, dragging it between your teeth and revelling in the husky groan this pulls from him. His hips sway against you, rubbing the head of his now rock-hard member against you. Quite suddenly, his hands leave your body, then instead, cup both sides of your face. Diluc holds you in place as he kisses you so hard and deep that your legs tremble and you worry your knees may give. And at last, the airy moan you offer him in reply seems to break the last of his restraint.

"Towards the wall," his urgent whisper grazes your skin, and it's all you can do to keep from moaning at the intoxicating, masculine tenor of his voice. Instead, you obey him, turning to the wall, only to feel him pinning you once more from behind. His lips are at your ear, his tongue tracing its curve, until he says softly,

"Truly a shame you can't always be this cooperative."

"I- I'm very cooperative when it gets me what I want..." you half-moan as his lips press heated kisses down the side of your neck. His fevered touch is everywhere, running up your sides to caress your chest, fingers briefly circling your nipples and causing you to arch against him.

"One day I'll make you beg for it." he muses softly, less like any 'dirty talk' you've ever heard, and far more like he's scolding you. Either way, it sends a hot wave of arousal plunging to your core. With a soft whimper, you urge your ass back against him, grinding onto the stiff length of his cock. Tonight won't be the night you beg, but you do need to show him how badly you want him- and he graciously complies.

Diluc's thumbs hook into the hem of your breeches and tug them down over the curve of your ass. Despite his own wants and needs, he does pause to appreciate the sight of you offering yourself to him, lower body exposed and face flushed when you glance over your shoulder at him. A single large hand runs over your backside, cupping and grabbing at it idly, enjoying the sight of your flesh over-filling his grip. Then, with a low hum, his eyes meet yours as he opens the front of his trousers and reveals his thick, twitching manhood to you. It's dark and veined, a powerful, masculine member that practically makes your mouth water- and you can't stifle an eager whine as he positions himself behind you once more.

The warm head of his cock presses to your greedy little hole, and Diluc wastes no time pushing himself steadily into you. With each inch, he splits you open around him, and your body tenses and arches against his strong frame.

"Diluc..!" you gasp out the moment he's buried into you to the base and his tip hits your core. Sometimes you think you'll never truly be accustomed to how fully he fills you.

"Quiet," he whispers harshly, though the way the full length of his cock swells at your cry tells him he quite enjoys hearing you. Yet as his hips begin to move and the veins and contours of his cock grind against your inner walls, it becomes harder and harder to keep your voice down. He feels too incredible, reaches too deep, stretches you out so nicely around him until you fit him perfectly. Your entire body burns, and you cling to the wall in front of you to take some of the strain off of your trembling legs. Before long, you're gasping and panting for him as he bucks into you, the head of his cock dragging against some indescribably wonderful spot each time he thrusts forward.

"You're so... difficult..." he grumbles, and you hear him move, unsure of what he's doing until you feel his gloveless hand sliding fingers into your mouth. Your eyes roll back, your body clenches and squeezes around Diluc's shaft. Perhaps he'd only meant to keep you quiet, but the depravity of being fucked senseless by the most sought-after gentleman in Mondstadt in a back alley while being made to suck on his fingers is simply too erotic to withstand. Your lips and tongue worship those fingers as he pounds you against the wall, railing into your desperate body until the hot, winding knot of pleasure in your gut comes undone in a sudden, mind-numbing rush.

"Nngh- gods...!" even Diluc, with all of his strict self discipline, can't keep from groaning as your climax seizes you. He can feel your body tense and release, feel your inner walls tightening and gripping around him, clinging around his cock like you can't bear to be without it. He draws closer, his hard chest against your back, his head sinking down to the crook of your neck. His thrusts lose their timing, uneven and inelegant as he nears his own release.

You feel the sting of his teeth at your flesh. Diluc silences his own sounds of pleasure, burying his face at your neck and sucking a dark love-bite to your skin. But even this jolt of wonderful pain can't distract you from the way his cock flexes deep within you, swelling and straining out against your tight hole. Then, at last, his breath catches, and his cum begins to shoot out into you. The first impact causes you to whine around his fingers, which he punishes with a harsher bite at your shoulder muscle, even as he continues to fill you. Wild red hair brushes your face as you rally your strength to keep yourself in place for him and he fucks the remainder of his climax into your waiting body. For a moment, he holds within you. You each struggle to regain composure and steady your breathing- no easy feat when his manhood is stubbornly refusing to soften even the slightest bit. Then, with a barely restrained sigh, Diluc eases out of your spent hole.

His hand comes to rest on the wall in front of you, trapping you against his body for a moment longer. You have just enough room to move your hands to tug up your clothing and cover up, and he does the same with his free hand. But before releasing you, he places a lingering kiss to the spot just below where your jawline meets your ear. It's a surprisingly tender spot, and the soft warmth of his lips seems to spread across your skin from that point.

"Be safe getting home." he murmurs, and you find yourself wishing dearly that you could see his expression as he says it. Though, perhaps he fully intends to keep that image from you. Then, he straightens his posture, the cool night air filling the space where his body had warmed you.

"And next time," he adds, having regained his usual business-like tone, "Don't expect me to be so generous if you stand in my way."

#diluc #diluc x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact fic #diluc smut

[sweetest-honeybee]

Down to Dust

Chapter 1

Fic Summary: Grian will have to keep the dragon egg secure for the Watchers. But, they’re not the only ones who want it. On a completely unrelated note, Mumbo will have to deal with a version of himself thats only amplified by his No Killing mindset.

Chapter Summary: Grian’s getting tired of Scar’s shit and Mumbo thinks he’s a responsible adult.

Word Count: 1392

TW: None

Note: TEGG doesn’t exist in this fic

Enjoy!

———————

This was the third time this week that Scar managed to find Grian’s hiding spot for the dragon egg. Grian was sure that he couldn’t have possibly found it behind one of the sheep in his farm and yet, here the two builders were, one with a proud smirk on his face and the other glaring with a somewhat playful disdain. They stood in the center of Grian’s base interior, the avian cradling the egg in his arms.

“Someday I’m going to hide this egg a thousand blocks away in the ocean,” he said. “I bet you’ll waste your time then.” This was only met with a snort.

“Hey, I might. You never know,” Scar shrugged. “You never let anyone near it, it only makes it more fun!”

Grian rolled his eyes, biting back a smile at the other’s blatant ignorance. “I never let you near it. Besides, it's a fruitless attempt for me at this point.” He turned and rested the egg on a nearby anvil. “If I don’t let anyone near it, it’s because you told them to touch it in the first place.”

Scar raised a finger to say something but clamped his mouth shut with a reddening face. “Mumbo wanted to touch it,” he opted to retort.

The other didn’t reply, only facing his friend with a raised brow and crossed arms.

“Okay maybe I talked him into it but that’s not the point.”

Only now did Grian break into a grin. “Well, I hope you look forward to never seeing this egg again.” He tapped at the top of the shell. “It’s too special to lose.”

“Yeah I bet it is after it took five minutes to kill the dragon,” Scar laughed. “You’ve never told anyone why it’s so special, though. I’m curious.”

“That’s for me to know,” he jabbed a finger at Scar ,”and for you to never find out.”

“Ah, but I will.” Scar pulled his sleeve to check his watch. “But, my time here is done. I’ve got wagons to build.” With a tip of his hat, he exited the base.

Grian watched as the door shut behind him. “Talk about time management,” he mused.

With that, he sighed and swiveled his gaze to the egg. Under the later afternoon beams, it was a beautiful thing. Its contents, however...The avian shook his head. For now, it was a peaceful souvenir from his battle. Although, it wouldn’t be his to keep. Not for hundreds and thousands of years. It belonged to a much more powerful family of beings.

And so Scar needed to keep his hands off of it.

Despite this, however, Grian hardly minded the shenanigans. He wasn’t exactly praised by the egg’s owners; really, he lacked a more...optimistic relationship with them. Having his rank and abilities revoked by the Watchers was almost as bad as being disregarded by them as a Player entirely. He shuddered at the thought but followed Scar’s choice to leave the building; he wondered what his neighbors were up to. Although, he probably shouldn’t have left the egg so exposed should Scar try to touch it again.

He rolled his eyes to himself, then looked around. Scar, like he mentioned, was stringing together small wagons. Grian cringed at how much copper the man used in his builds- not because of distaste but that he could hardly imagine himself spending so much time grinding for the stuff. He glanced at his roof.

Well, maybe he could.

His gaze then rested on Pearl’s and Impulse’s bases, then Mumbo’s. It was strangely quiet this afternoon. He’d hardly seen any of the three since the day before. Mumbo moreso, but the other two not so much. Curious, he made his way across the field. Only then did Mumbo’s head pop out of a hole by his surface farm did Grian notice that anyone except Scar was out there at all.

Grian stopped and watched as his mustached friend pulled himself out of the hole. Unsurprisingly, he was covered in patches of mud and dust starting at the tips of his fingers. As he noticed that Grian was there, he waved.

“Hey!” Mumbo greeted happily. He stood and dusted himself off in a useless effort to look somewhat presentable. “Sorry about the mess, I’ve been fixing some things in the potato farm.”

“I thought that usually didn’t involve rolling in the dirt,” the avian chuckled. “I’m trying to keep Scar off of the egg.” Mumbo raised a brow. “No, it didn’t work.”

“Huh, I thought he’d never find it in the sheep pen.”

Grian scoffed. “You’d think.”

“You could hide it in someone else’s base. Or better yet, in his own base,” Mumbo suggested.

The avian contemplated the idea, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I can’t really let it go anywhere else.”

“You can’t or you won’t? I can babysit the egg.”

At that, Grian laughed a single ‘HA’ at the proposal. “I’d rather have Scar just take it,” he replied. “No offense. It’s a magical egg, you couldn’t handle it.”

The redstoner gaped with offense despite Grian’s comment. “I think I’d be great at it!”

“Right, right,” the other sneered, but couldn’t help but to giggle at the thought. Eventually, he calmed himself. “Anyways, I’ve got work to do. I suggest a bath for you as well.” Grian looked Mumbo up and down. “You need it.” With that, he rocketed himself away with a salute.

Mumbo stared in disbelief, then turned to Grian’s house. He’d be a great babysitter for the egg! Grian was only just trying to insult his obvious responsibility. Seeing as Grian couldn’t keep the egg away from anyone, it wasn’t like he was much better at the task. Besides, he couldn’t kill the dragon, so what better way to obtain a dragon egg than through showing Grian just how responsible he was with it.

With that thought, the redstoner looked around. Nobody other than Scar, who was busy building, was around. So, he more or less stealthily creeped his way into Grian’s base. If anything he probably looked like a long legged spider. Mumbo expected the dragon egg to be hidden once more but much to his surprise, it was blatantly out in the open. He almost face palmed for Grian’s sake. It was too easy. He hastily plucked the egg from its place and shoved it into his inventory. Hopefully, Scar wouldn’t find it odd for Mumbo to have been there should he notice anything weird.

Mumbo left quickly and already began conjuring plans for a vault. Knowing Grian, it hardly needed to be in any way complex. Where to put it, however, was the question plaguing his mind. He really didn’t have a lot of space to work with. But, the underground potato farm should work just fine. Behind the backdrop was a perfect area. So, he did just that. Within hours, the vault was done and dusted. In it, a quartz interior with a pillar topped with a purple pillow. Mumbo looked around, admiring his work. He then turned to the pillar and pulled the egg from his inventory. He placed it on the pillow carefully, almost as if he wanted the egg itself to be comfortable. With a pat to the top of the egg, he left the vault.

It’s been a while since he last saw Grian. The builder should’ve returned to his base by now and saw that the egg was missing. Mumbo supposed that Grian was simply hanging out with their neighbors. He ascended the ladder, still covered in layers of soil that fell from the wrinkles in his now stained white undershirt. The redstoner peeked his head out of the hole. The sky was dark and littered with stars. Zombies groaned and skeletons' bones clacked blocks away.

Ah, Grian might’ve been sleeping.

He sat on the edge of the hole, legs still dangling inside, and checked his watch. It was late and tremendously so. How long had he been under the ground for? He raked his fingers through his hair. Well, time to sleep then. He made his way to the van and after he did, he looked out once more before sliding the door shut. Tucking himself into bed, he drifted into a peaceful slumber. The thought of the stolen egg hardly left any thoughts on his mind.

#long post #hermitcraft #down to dust fic #grian #goodtimeswithscar #mumbo jumbo #after reading through it’s a little quicker paced than I intended but eh #I like it a lot more than the first draft

[lalaangeldust]

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚 𝐱 𝐠𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 [ 𝟑𝐤+ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 ]

[ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ] : gross sticky icky fluff // friends to lovers troupe <3 // hanta is a huge dork, we all been knew this // hanta is also sickeningly sweet and affectionate // GOD, I JUST LOVE HIM SO MUCH

[ 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 ] : on a clear night, you go out to stargaze on the dorm roof; nothing out of the norm for you but in the middle of admiring the stars, sero comes out to join with something big he needs to get off his chest.

[ 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 ] : you - blue // sero - orange

[ 𝗺𝘆𝗸𝗶𝗲'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 ] : i'm totally not projecting my fantasies onto sero and i'm totally not a sucker for friends to lovers fics :| /s

Sitting on the cool concrete of the dorm roof, the night illuminated by nothing but the streetlights below you and the stars above as you lay in silence with your legs propped against the roof's ledge. You've always thought the best part of UA was how it was out of the way so the stars are clearer than they were back in the city. Although graduation is soon and end of year exams are menacingly looming over you, you couldn't resist the urge to come out and soak up the full moon's gorgeous light. Nights like these, alone on a clear night, soft music playing through your headphones, scanning the vast sky, connecting the dots as your eyes wander to make constellations of your own are arguably one of your most favorite things in life.

The only thing that could possibly make this better is... him.

Eyes trailing to the brightest star you can find and admiring how it sticks out from everything else in your vision, your mind uncontrollably wanders to Sero. How that star kinda reminds you of him...

Ugh! what a ridiculous thing to think! Damn him for always finding a way to worm into your thoughts. Your hands fly to your forehead with a smack, outwardly groaning as you drag your fingers down your face in an attempt to shake off your thoughts. You've been friends with him for nearly three years! You would think you'd be over your petty crush on him by now. You two are practically siblings with how you two are almost always attached at the hip, always causing trouble together, always there when the other needed it, always making you feel safe... It would be weird to have feelings for him... right..?

But before you could rationalize your emotions any further, a hand reaches for your headphones, lifting one side off your ear as you hear a soft voice murmur behind you, “The moon’s beautiful tonight, isn't it?”

You practically jump out of your skin, immediately shooting up to take a defensive position. Although you can’t make out the silhouette you’re now facing, the all too familiar laughter that comes from them is more than enough to give away who this false intruder could be and you sigh in relief.

“Sero! You scared me half to death!!” you exclaim, relaxing your shoulders at seeing his familiar frame emerge through the dim light.

Tall and lean with a smile that could nearly rival the sun, the boy chuckles at you. His long pitch black hair he's been growing out for the past year cascading down the sides of his face, just barely brushing past his shoulders framing his face in a way that makes his dashing features stand out even more. Sero approaches you wearing a loose muscle tank top with his hands tucked in ill fitting sweats and a pair of black stud earrings he stole from you in his ears.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Sero chuckled, "I didn't mean to scare you so bad, doll". You send him a deep glare through the darkness and he throws his hands up out of his pockets to either side of his head in defense.

"...Maybe you shouldn't sit out here with music blasting in your ears,” Sero snarks back, “I could’ve been a villain,” he continues mockingly, “Not to mention that horrible stance you took. I don't think you’d fair very well against a villain while sitting down,” he teases with a wide grin smeared on his face. You scoff and roll your eyes in response.

“Are you only here to tell me how much of a hazard I am? Or do you want anything else, tape face?” you grumble.

“Oh, you wound me!” Sero exclaims dramatically, “I was simply wondering what my lil’ muffin was up to,” he muses, the dimples on his cheeks becoming visible as his grin only stretches wider as he speaks.

“Oh god, muffin!?!? ew!” you groan, “What the hell, I thought we agreed on no more stupid pet names,” you say with a giggle while scrunching up your nose.

“I didn't think it was stupid,” Sero huffs as he plops himself down next to you and wrinkles his nose back at you, “Muffin is a valid nickname. You just have no taste,” he concludes with a short nod, still smiling like an idiot.

You just roll your eyes and stick your tongue out at him before tilting your head up to go back to looking at the stars. Sero chuckles softly, staring at you for a moment while admiring you as you look at the sky with a softened smile on his face.

“Why you up so late?” he inquired.

“I could ask you the same thing, Sero,” you reply while throwing your head back down to look at him.

“Mmm, well, I was sleeping but… I suddenly woke up and couldn't go back to sleep,” he grunts as he adjusts himself into a more comfortable sitting position next to you.

You hum in acknowledgment before you look back up to the stars in the sky and Sero is left to admire you once again. How your eyes glimmer with the stars as the full moon softly illuminates your frame is a breathtaking view he would never tire of. The look on your face when you gaze at the sky, the look of pure adoration and awe is a look he hopes, prays, dreams you’ll give him one day.

“What’re you thinking, hun?” he softly asks, hoping you’d give him just the slightest glimpse of what goes on in your head. You pause for a moment, taking in his question and wondering how to answer it.

“Just thinking. Thinking thoughts. Nothing notable or important, I can assure you. Just enjoying the clear night,” you say, swerving his question to avoid the real answer. him.

“Ah, that was a rather vague answer,” he jests, mildly disappointed that you didn't let him in and you only hum in response.

“What about you?” you ask, “What made you wanna come up here?”

“Oh, well..” he begins but is held back by a lump that suddenly lodges in his throat, not really wanting to fully admit why he came up here with you.

In reality he hadn't slept at all. He’s embarrassed to admit it but he couldn't stop thinking of you all night, all day in fact. You just about consume his every thought and tonight, no matter what he did, he just couldn’t shake the thought of being with you.

After being so close with you for years now, people often assume the two of you are dating but the idea is almost always dismissed by a shy laugh and an averted gaze... Sero would be lying if he ever said he didn't relish the idea of being in a romantic relationship with you but... You never seemed all that interested in the idea and Sero was too scared to push the idea you may like him even half as much as he likes you. Never going farther than light hearted flirting and banter, some may call him a coward maybe but to him? Being your friend was enough. Well, that was until Mina and Kiri gave him a harsh wake up call earlier that morning.

They were scolding him on how painfully obvious it is how both you and Sero are nearly head over heels for one another, how they've spent the past year pining for one another, yet the both of you have stayed so blind to the fact you have feelings for each other. Absolutely dumbfounded by this, he asks what he should do about it, about you, to which they immediately and overwhelmingly demand him to confess his feelings for you. That is the real reason he came to find you.

“When I was trying to go back to sleep, I thought about something someone said… about taking chances,” he spoke in a soft and thoughtful tone, “Taking that blind leap of faith into the unknown things we’re afraid of because... what’s the worst that can happen…?” he pauses, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly realizing how silly he probably sounds as he looks at you, “I dunno- sounds kinda dumb now that I say it out loud,” he says dismissively.

“No, no. I don't think it sounds dumb at all. I think it’s very insightful” you say, ushering him to continue by resting your head on your palm as you look at him intently to show your interest.

“Well, uh,” butterflies swarm to his chest as he tries to find the words to speak, finding it much harder to talk when he knows he has your full attention.

“Well, it led me to think about you 'cus I know that's something you talk about a lot as well… and I figured since it's a full moon tonight, you'd be up here,” he concludes. His gaze nervously shifting to his feet, averting his eyes from you to try and calm the fluttering nerves in his chest.

“I’m glad you did,” you hum, a low warmth growing in your chest from knowing he thought about you, “I enjoy your company,” you add thoughtfully. Though you probably just meant it in a friendly way, it didn’t change how much it meant to Sero to know you like having him around.

“I’m happy to hear that,” Sero chuckles nervously, a light blush dusting his cheeks as he slightly scooches closer to you. You take notice and you subtly tilt to the side, leaning in his direction not yet touching shoulders but leaving an opening to do so if he wanted.

“I uh- I also wanted to tell you something- In regards to what I was thinking about…” Sero mumbles nervously, hoping you didn’t catch what he said so he would have an excuse to not go through with his confession. Pretend like nothing happened and move on to just enjoy the simple friendship you two share.

“Oh?” You inquire, “What do you want to tell me? I’m all ears,” Sero fiddles with his thumbs, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before he speaks as you patiently wait for him.

"I- uh, I love you," he blurts, head swimming as he looks at you, eager and insatiably nervous to hear how you may respond, horrified you may not reciprocate his feelings and ultimately ruining what relationship you two did have.

"I love you too, Sero," you giggle.

Sero's heart drops, confidence dwindling as he assumes you thought he said "I love you" in the way you two always have. Just as friends. But he didn't. He meant it. He meant it in so many more ways he couldn't even begin to describe. He didn't expect you to reciprocate his feelings in the first place but that doesn't make him hurt any less.

"No, you don't understand," Sero sighs as he runs his hands through his long, thick hair, "I'm in love with you," You turn you head to him, Did he-? eyes widening at what Sero said, unsure if what you heard was a wishful hallucination or not. When you said "I love you" back, you genuinely meant it in the same way he does now. God, you've been in love with him for what seems like the first moment you two met but you would've never guessed Sero felt the same for you.

You sit in silence for a beat trying processes what Sero had just said to you. Your friend, your closest friend, is in love with you..? Something you've dreamt of becoming a reality. You start to get dizzy from the overwhelming euphoria and anxiety the realization simultaneously brings. You look at Sero, placing your hand on his to ground yourself as you look up at him, a warm smile spreading on your face.

"I love you too, Hanta," you say earnestly. Sero's heart leaps in his chest at your words. Not only did the person of his dreams reciprocate his feelings but they also addressed him by his first name?! He might as well be dreaming. Hearing his name fall off your lips like warm honey for the first time sends him flying through cloud nine.

"Y-you mean it??" Sero stutters, still unable to believe it. You give him a heartfelt smile as you squeeze his hand before standing up. You wordlessly walk around Sero and crouch behind him.

Utterly confused and growing increasingly flustered at your sudden close proximity, Sero opens his mouth to ask what you could possibly be doing but you shush him before he can say a word. Leaning against him, you ask permission to grab his hand and Hanta lets you guide his finger to the brightest star in the sky, hyperaware of every subtle shift, adjustment and breath you take behind him, clinging onto every passing moment.

"You see that star? The really really bright one right there and how it's brighter than the others?" you ask.

"Yeah... why.?" he questions, eager to hear what you have to say.

"Forgive me if this is too cheesy but it sorta reminds me of you," you say softly.

"Wh- I don't think a follow," Hanta replies and you give a short, breathy chuckle in response.

"Out of all the stars in the sky, you stick out to me to most. You're the brightest star," you murmur close to him, guiding his hand back down and you make your way to sit next to him. Hanta takes a moment to process what you said. Him? A star? He doesn't understand how you view him in such a way when there isn't much special about him in the first place... but he tries not to pay any mind to those thoughts as his eyes are glued to you sitting back down beside him.

"Pff, that was super cheesy," he snorts.

"Shut up, I'm trying my best," you grumble, "And... that's what I was really thinking about before you came," Hanta looks at you in awe, nothing but love and kindness filling his eyes as he gingerly grabs your hand, lifting it up level to his face.

"It's aright, doll, I was only teasing.. I think it's cute and~," he hums before placing a soft kiss on your knuckle, "I'm ok with cheesy," he concludes with a wink. Heat blooms on your cheeks at his action and you throw your head to the side, covering your mouth and cheek with your other hand in embarrassment. Hanta chuckles, just about ready to burst at how adorable you are and gets a sudden burst of confidence coursing through him from seeing your flustered form.

"Aw, don't get shy on me now, love," he coos, tugging your arm to usher you to look back at him. You look at him with a flustered scowl and Hanta isn't sure if you did it to intimidate him or what but all it did was make his heart scream for you more. His hand slides to your forearm and his other hand goes to grab your other arm, pulling it away from your face.

"Here, come here, baby," he murmurs, pulling your arms to guide you to his lap. You give little resistance as you follow Hanta's hands, shifting around to make yourself comfortable against him as you settle between his thighs. As soon as you got comfortable, Hanta's arms find their home around your waist, hugging you close and breathing you in. You sigh contently as your back rests against his strong chest, never feeling safer than you do right now in his arms.

"It's ok if I call you baby now, right..?" Hanta asks, not wanting to be too much at one time.

"Well, it would be if we were dating," you tease with a raised brow.

"Wha-?" Hanta looks at you confused for a moment before he realizes, "Oh! How could I forget," he chuckles softly, cupping your face in his large palm, guiding your face too look at him, his dark eyes practically engulfing you in his loving gaze.

"Would you care to be my partner..?" he purrs, voice dipping to a soft and low tone that sends goosebumps down your spine.

"W-well, when you put it like that how can I say no?" you mumble, not being able to help the heat rising up your neck, painting your cheeks pink once again from how small you feel under Hanta's enchanting gaze.

"So... is that a yes..?" Hanta inquires, hand still placed tenderly on our cheek. You nod your head against his palm, fingers caressing up and down his forearm as he holds you.

"Mhm, I would love nothing more," you reply in a soft and tender tone. Hanta melts at your words, feeling on top the world and like he can do anything. An uncontrollable smile erupts on his face, charming dimples ornamenting his cheeks as he hugs you tight to his body not wanting to ever let go.

You shuffle in his arms to turn yourself around in his lap. Now facing him, you tuck your face into the crook of Hanta's neck, wrapping your arms and legs snuggly around his torso. Hanta holds you equally as close, affectionately running his fingers up and down your back in complete bliss with you snuggling up to him.

"Can I kiss you..?" Hanta asks, voice just barely above a whisper. You lift your head up to look him in his deep eyes and you cup his face in your hand. Hanta leans into your touch, grabbing your hand on his face and guides it down just enough to plant a chaste kiss to the edge of your palm. You sigh and softly smile, nodding at the boy's question.

"Please kiss me," you murmur, leaning closer into his body. Hanta places his hand on the back of your neck, pulling you and a colliding your lips together. Though it was clumsy at first, you quickly adapt and your lips lock together like puzzle pieces. Tenderly, Hanta pulls away from you and rests his forehead against yours. The kiss you shared was short and sweet but still left the both of you breathless and yearning for more.

"May I kiss you again?" Hanta questions playfully and you giggle in response while nodding your head against him. He leans in, smiling against you as you mash lips with together, the both of you sighing into the other's mouth. This kiss a lot more confident than the last as Hanta takes the lead to explore every bit of you he can, taking note of every noise, movement and reaction you give. This time you pull away, surfacing for air from Hanta's intense hold on you.

"I can kiss you again, right?" Hanta asks again.

"How many more kisses do you want??" you giggle.

"That is a dangerous question to ask, my love," Hanta purrs into you, his breath ghosting your neck as he nuzzles his face underneath your jaw and lays a soft peck where his face lies, "I'd take all of them," he says, scanning your face for any discomfort but once he sees you're ok with him continuing, he lays another peck on your neck.

You laugh at the ticklish feeling, lacing your fingers through his dark hair as he continues showering you with short kisses.

"Let me know if I'm being too much, yeah?" kiss on your neck, "I don't wanna be too much," another kiss on the neck, "or overwhelm you," kiss on your jaw, "'cus that would be sad," kiss on the corner of your mouth.

"Hanta!" you squeal through giggles.

"I'm sorry, hun" kiss on your cheekbone, "I just can't resist," kiss on your cheek, "you have no idea," kiss on the chin, "just how long," kiss on the nose, "I've wanted," kiss on the eyelid "to do this," kiss on the brow, "And now," kiss on the temple, "I can't," kiss on the forehead, "Stop,"

Erupting with giggles, you desperately try to squirm away as Hanta continues to relentlessly shower you with kisses.

"No, no, no! Hanta!" you cry through your laughter, "No more!"

Giving you one last peck on the lips before pulling away, Hanta finally gives into your pleas and stops his assault of kisses. He presses his forehead against yours as you calm down from your laughing fit, pulling some giggles from Hanta as well because of your contagious laugh.

"I love you," you sigh once you've finally calmed down. Hanta hums in response, placing his hand on the back of your head, letting his fingers lace through your hair.

"I love you too," he says, heart feeling full and beaming with joy.

Forever and always~

𝒇𝒊𝒏 . ✩

[ lil easter egg of sorts for those of you who don't know~ in Japanese when you ask someone "The moon is beautiful, isn't it?" or

『月が綺麗ですね』 // "tsuki ga kirei desu, ne?"

it's actually a very poetic way to confess your love to the person you're asking ]

[ I think it's literally so fucking cute 'cus i myself am deeply in love w/ the moon :) ]

[ if this were a thing in English and someone confessed to me this way, i would immediately demand for their hand in marriage >:| ]

[ god, japanese culture is so cool, i love it sm ]

ALSO- CAN WE NORMALISE ASKING SOMEONE OUT BY ASKING THEM TO BE YOUR PARTNER INSTEAD OF BF / GF????

"would you care to be my partner?" UHBIJNIJAHHHH LITERALLY SO ROMANTIC AND GENUINE HOLY SHIT- i'm making myself simp

RAAAHHHHHHH

#ok mykie shut up now #if you read my little side notes... i love you #the moon is a lesbian #mha #bnha #bnha fluff #mha fluff #bnha fic #mha fic #bnha x reader #mha x reader #sero hanta #hanta sero imagine #hanta sero #sero x reader #hanta x reader #hanta x you #hanta x y/n #sero x y/n #sero x you #sero headcanons #fluff

[iridescentxstars]

The Little Things

➳ published: 29.08.21 ➳ ambiguous!au || genre: fluff || rated: t ➳ pairing: optional bias x reader ➳ summary: things have been rough lately and your boyfriend finds time out of his busy day to make sure you have a special night ➳ word count: <1k ➳ author's note: happy birthday to my beautiful sister @imnameimss, this is actually a request from someone special. We hope you like it. The playlist to go with it

Everything is perfect, that’s something he couldn’t always say but right here, right now, everything is as perfect as life could ever get. The epitome of his life. This is one of those moments that he would repeat every time, every decision that he made to lead him to be right here, oh, he would do it all over again.

No matter what.

He looks at his watch, foot tapping on the ground nervously as he watches the second hand move but it feels like it’s mocking him, testing his impatience as he pulls his phone out to unlock, texting the group chat and trying to make sure that everything is in place. He needs this to be perfect, not that much could go wrong really but it doesn’t stop the way his heart is beating, racing, against his chest. It’s showtime. A message comes through and he jumps into action, turning on the fairy lights that he had set up around the blanket on the ground and lit a few candles before hearing the crunching of tyres on the gravel driveway.

As you exit the car, eyeing the driver suspiciously, you walk up the lit path. Little lamps light the way, directing you towards where you are meant to be heading. A song plays, soft, ambient, fitting for such a night; you recognise it as a song you listened to one too many times, sung in the shower for over a week and the sweetest smile spreads across your lips as you see him standing there in the dimly lit backyard.

“What is this?” You laugh softly as you walk towards him, taking all of him in while he looks at you with adoring eyes and the happiest smile adorning his features. His hair is styled in the way you love the most, bare-faced but he never looked more handsome, he always dressed fashionable but tonight you think he looks like he walked out of a k-drama, and here you were…

“You look beautiful.” He says, holding out his hand for you to take, leading you to the blanket on the ground. The night is warm, perfect, as the moon is shining and the stars dance above you. His heart somersaults in his chest when you smile at him, God, he loves you more than he could ever express.

He lays down, looking up at you while you turn your face to the sky, leaning back on your palms and just watches you. The way your smile is content, at ease, despite everything that has happened lately, your smile is still so full of life and such a purity that could never be replicated. No matter how many people tried, they could never be you.

His sunflower.

You feel his eyes on you and you chuckle softly, “you’re staring.”

“I’m admiring.”

You look down at him, playfully rolling your eyes. “Babe, you admire art, the colour that the sunrise paints the morning sky, the rain on the windowpane-”

“And the smile of the woman I love.” He simply says. “To me, you are more than any piece of art I could find in this world, not just in the way your smile makes your eyes sparkle or how your nose scrunches cutely when you sneeze but because you are strong, resilient, and the better half of me. You are my reason. Every day that I wake up, you are my reason for pushing through. My angel, my strength, my muse. Without you-”

You blush, playfully slapping him, breaking the moment and you both laugh. He infuriates you, makes you cry and there have been times you’ve thought about slamming the door in his face for sure; but in comparison to the times that he’s made you laugh, calmed you down after a rough day at work and made you feel more at home in his arms than the roof over you – it is always worth it in the end.

He’s worth it all. You are worth it.

Love is funny like that, isn’t it? The way that no matter what comes your way, no matter the obstacle, that one person can make it all worth fighting for.

“Are you proposing?” You laugh, the sound turning slightly nervous as he doesn’t join in, just smiling and watching you.

“No,” the corner of his lips lift as his gaze grows more intense, “but if I was, what would you say?”

You blush deeper and stutter a little, he loves those little reactions, the ones only he can pull from you. “I-It doesn’t matter.” You lay down next to him and he props himself up on an elbow, looking at you as you hide your face from him. “I hate it when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“Make me flustered.”

He chuckles, “no, you don’t.” Pressing a soft kiss on your forehead, he lays back down beside you and looks up at you. You lay there together for a quiet moment, the only sound is the playlist that he’s playing as your fingers play with each other, slowly morphing into your hands finally meeting, palms pressed against each other with intertwined fingers. The beeping of his watch breaks the ambience and with that he turns to look at you, waiting for you to meet his gaze.

“Happy birthday, angel.”

#optional bias #happy birthday #love us

[obsessive-ego]

A late night hand nsft

Musical beetlejuice x reader

You give beej a handjob in your sleep

Reader has a vagina

Warning dubious consent, voyeurism, masturbation, mutual masturbation kinda

Shout out to the anon that told me to do this

Its been a full week of beetlejuice being underfoot and in your personal space, from the moment youd wake up, and left for work, to when you got home again, not that you minded at all, in fact you adored the demon, hell, you were head over heels for the ghoul, not that you had the balls to say it.

But this whole week he's been up on you, clinging to you, nuzzling his scratch beard into your neck, pinching your rear, poking at you, he just couldnt keep his hands off, not that you minded, though you did scold him for getting too friendly with your bum, you two even slept together and the man was a cuddler. All this physical attention wasnt usually an issue, you could normally deal with this pent up frustration and sexual neediness during some alone time with some less then wholesome thoughts of the bastard who made you feel that way to begin with.

But not this time, beetlejuice just wouldnt give you the time of day, normally he would duck out and scare the neighbors or lydia would summon him away, but lydia was off on a family vacation or something, and beej just wasnt in the mood to be a pest to anyone but you.

You envied the ghoul, his ability to just leave and do whatever he wanted, hell for all you know the bastard could be jerking off on the roof, shooting his load over the edge and watching it splat on the sidewalk, honestly you wouldnt put it past him, you couldnt help but snicker at that image, but your mirth was cut short when a familiar gravelly voice grabs your attention.

"What's so funny?"

"Ah, just remembered a stupid tiktok I saw the other day, dont worry about" you shrug

The ghoul grunts, alittle annoyed you wont elaborate on the joke, but his attention returns to the film the two of you were watching, he was watching, you were too busy in your own head.

It was the regular movie night the two of you shared, you would order pizza, beetlejuice would scare the piss out of the poor delivery guy, and the two of you would stay up till the early morning watching B list horror, all the while the demon had an arm around your shoulders pulling you into his side, he would claim he did it cuz he was cold and you were warm, and under normal circumstances you didnt mind, but now? You felt like you were gonna die, you swore the demon could hear your heart pounding away, or feel the warmth from your face, god couldnt tell you were in desperate need to deal with your pent up frustrations could he? Hell you wanted the ghoul to absolutely rail you on the couch, and you're pretty sure he'd do it if youd asked, but you werent that type of person, nor did you want friends with benefits relationship with beetlejuice, if anything you wanted something more romantic, as cheesy as that sounds, a loving relationship with a literal demon, I mean the two of you DO get along nicely, so maybe it wasnt too out of the question?

You were so busy in your on head freaking out you didnt hear beetlejuice trying to get your attention.

With a poke on the cheek you yelp in surprise

"You sick or something?" He smirked, amused by your cry

"Yeah, feeling alittle dizzy" you mumble avoiding the ghoul's eyes, he was leaning into now, his face way too close to yours, he had no idea what personal space even was, and you were in no state to deal with his clingyness unless you wanted to cum your pants infront of a jackass who'll never let you forget it.

"I think I'm gonna head to bed early" you shift away from the demon and up off the couch, he huffs in annoyance

"Really babes? You got the day off tomorrow, how bout you relax here with me, I dont mind if you doze off on me~, I'll keep ya nice and cozy all night~" he purrs, eyeing you up and down, if you werent wet earlier you were sure as fuck were now, you swallow the lump in your throat and squeeze your legs together and squeak out a soft "no thanks, I think sleeping in my bed would be ideal, I dont want to make you sick or anything, I mean If i am sick, night" you babbled as you scurried to your room.

With the closing of the door you were home safe in your room, not safe enough to jerk away these annoying pent up sexual feelings, yes you could be quite, but beetlejuice was nosy and had the nasty habbit of appearing when you least wanted him to, fantasies of him walking in on you then helping you finish is one thing, but in reality? Its terrifying.

You can stare at yourself in your bedroom mirror and snear "horny dumbass" you mumble as you plug your phone into its charger and slip in bed hoping tomorrow these frustrations would vanish.

Beetlejuice stifled a laugh at your exit, one of his favourite things about you was that you were a terrible liar, he could read you like an open book, that's how he found out you liked him and not just in a sexy way, he saw how much you liked him as a person, even though he wasnt one, you treated him with genuine kindness and wanted him around, not strings attached, that in itself was rare, a pretty little breather like you having the hots for a smelly creepy old guy of a corpse? One in a million, and he sure as hell wasnt gonna let it go.

He knew you liked him, and yes he's seen you masturbate more then he's willing to admit, but seeing you so turned on you looked like you were gonna explode? That was new, and he'd be lying if he wasnt a tad turned on by it at all.

Let's be honest beetlejuice knew he was winding you up all week, he wanted to see you're cute flustered expression, but soaking your panties? That was a bonus, he didnt think youd get so hot under the collar by his games, he was actually quite flattered that he had that level of effect on you.

The ghoul quietly floats over to your bedroom, pressing an ear against the door, nothing, he frowns, no sounds of soft panting, or the muffled buzz of your little vibrator, nothing. Maybe he was asking for too much, hoping youd have the guts to jerk one out while his presence was known, but no, no little peep show tonight.

As much as the demon would love to slip into bed with you and catch some Zs, it was still too early to do so, you'd still be awake, and in your current state would be pretty jumpy, he floats back over to the couch to wait it out, despite his creepy nature beetlejuice occasionally had these moments of respecting you and your feelings, it was odd, maybe the maitlands were rubbing off on him.

Beetlejuice spent most of this time waiting for you to doze off just staring at the ceiling as he reclined on the couch, he pulls a clock out from his jacket and gives a small smirk, enough time as finally pasted for you to be out and for him to slink in.

The ghoul fazes his way through your bedroom door, seeing you fast asleep, he smiles, floating towards the edge of the bed and with the snap of his finger his striped suit vanishes leaving behind nothing but a pair of stripe boxers.

Beetlejuice gently pulls aside the covers to reveal your sleeping form, you were wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt, and with further inspection a pair of boxers, that were hidden by the shirt.

The ghoul slips in beside you and sighs at the welcoming of your warmth, the ghoul pulls you close being ever so gentle, trying not to wake you. The demon settles on the position of you using his soft chest as a pillow, your body pressed up against his side, and an arm around your shoulder with his hand on your upper back.

Beetlejuice let's out a soft sigh, this, this was nice, the feeling of warmth from your living body against his cold one, you were so soft, and warm, and alive, and you were all his, you just didn't know it yet. The ghoul couldnt help himself, you made him feel so wanted for nothing, of course he was going to fall for you, soon he'll get you to confess your feelings to him and then things will be perfect, but until that day, the demon was fine to snuggle with you, and get satisfaction from you in anyway he could.

His musings of your future love life was cut short with a soft whisper, it was unintelligible, but it was from you.

The ghoul stifled a laugh, you were talking in your sleep again, something you did often, but rarely was the demon able to make out what you were saying.

"What's up sweets? You okay?" He chuckled, hand running up and down your back

You mumble in response

"Oh, what's that? You need mr beebleboose to help you out?"

You hum

"You need me to rub your clothed vagina? Oh, y/n you naughty minx, is it because your so pent up from my little game of teasing-"

The ghoul's mirth was cut short when he felt the soft touch of a warm hand against his clothed dick.

"Whoa, babes, y/n ah-"

At first beetlejuice could have mistaken the first stroke as a slip of the hand, but another? You were gently rubbing his crotch in your sleep.

The ghoul quickly changes his hue to electric  pink, and bites his knuckles to try and stop from moaning out as your warm hand continously brushes clumsily against his cock, now fully erect, it was embarrassing how quick the ghoul's meat rose to your touch alone.

"Sugar, you're not playing fair" he groans before bucking into your touch, this wasnt fair, you're dead asleep and playing him like a goddamn fiddle, was this karma? Was this his punishment for making you hot under the collar? I mean as far as punishments go, it could have been worse, but having you touch him in such a way, and not being able to do damn thing about it? Still drove the demon nuts, god slash satan he wanted to wake and rail you, though he knew you would die of embarrassment if you found out what you did to him in your sleep, so here beetlejuice was, stuck between a tock and a hard place.

"Bee..."

The noise nearly stopped the demon's heart, if it was still pumping, beetlejuice glances away from the ceiling over to you, which thank God, you were still asleep, just rambling again.

The ghoul lets out a soft sigh of relief before you interrupt

"Faster?"

The demon nearly dropped his jaw at what you uttered, though he clenched it back shut when he felt your soft hand squeeze his cock through his boxers.

"Harder?" You mumble

"Y/n please" he whines softly "fine, you win babes" he ghoul groans before begrudging brushing your hand away and pulling his painfully hard cock out of his boxers, the ghoul gently guides your eager hand back to his desperate meat, which you gently take hold of, the demon stifles a moan at the rush of warmth of your soft hand against his hard cool cock. Beetlejuice slowly begins to guide your hand up and down his shaft, all while he pants and and moans, hips trying their best not to buck too hard and wake you.

"Oh y/n, theres nothing like doing the stranger, especially if you already know them huh?" He chuckles between pants

"You like that?" You mumble in a whisper

"God slash satan yes" the demon whines, he wanted this for so long, he would have preferred you be awake, but he wasnt going to punch a gift horse in the mouth.

His hand guiding your own began to pick up pace, running up and down his shaft, stopping at the base ever so often to give it a light squeeze.

"Is this good?" You sighed

"Sugar you have no idea" been groaned biting on his knuckles

As good as beetlejuice was at edging he knew he wasnt gonna last long, the warmth and softness of your hand was gonna be the second death of him.

He was in heaven, or as close as a born dead demon was gonna get, but he was brought back quickly to reality when movement beside him.

The smallest squeak of movement from the mattress followed by a soft whine from you, if the ghoul's heart was still pumping it would have stopped by now.

This was it, he was done for, you were gonna see his dirty transgression and banish him forever.

Seconds pass and there was nothing, no screaming, nothing.

Beetlejuice let's out a sigh before returning to guiding your hand up and down his desperate erection.

But you move you body again, a soft bump against the ghoul's side, and another bump, then another, followed by a soft whine from you.

Were you trying to get off?

The demon smiles and stifles a laugh, here he was tending to himself while his sweet little y/n was desperate for a release of their own, what kind of lover would he be if he was to leave his favourite breather hanging?

Beetlejuice moves his free hand from your back, and softly slides it between yours and his bodies, slipping it gently between your legs, where it was greeted with a great warmth. His cool fingers gently press against your clothed sex, he could feel you were already wet, you've been hot under the collar all week due to his teasing, the demon couldnt help but smile at how this was all his doing, with another press against your clothed folds, you let out a soft whine and gently buck up against his hand.

"Bee" you whimper

"Y/n" he sighs, returning his other hand into guiding yours up and down his leaking cock.

Many a nights has beetlejuice dreamed if this exact situation, although in his fantasy you were awake, but this was good too.

"Want me to make a mess honey?" You whined

At this point the ghoul was close to his limit, it was if you could read his mind "oh yeah baby, help daddy make a mess" he groaned using your hand at a more brutal pace, chasing his own orgasm.

"Fuck y/n, that's it, that's it doll, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum all over your pretty hand baby" the ghoul babbled before finally cumming, his ectoplasm splattering all over your hand and the sheets that hid his dirty deed from view, moving you hand away from his now spent cock.

Beetlejuice takes a moment to bask in the after glow, before finally coming down from his sexual high to help you finish.

His attention now, 100% on you, a slight increase in pressure on your crotch as he rubbed, you whined and bucked into his hand, mumbling his name.

Beetlejuice took this opportunity to be a tad more bold, slipping a finger up the pant leg of your boxers and into your soaked vagina, he shivers at the new sensation, warm, wet, alive.

He slowly begins to pump his finger in and out, while his thumb eagerly runs at the clit.

It didnt take long for you to finish ether, due to how tightly wound you already were.

"That's it doll, cum all over my hand, eye for an eye right?" He chuckles

With a gasp and a few messy movements from you hips you cum, coding the demon's hand in your juices.

You slowly stop your thrashing and you panting dies down to soft breathing.

"Was it good for you too?" The ghoul snorts removing his hand from your crotch and bringing it to his mouth, sucking the lucky finger that explored your entrance.

Electricity leaving his hair, but remining pink, content in his late night activities, he snaps his fingers and his cum covering your hand and sheets vanish, as nice a thought was to have you sleep in that mess, youd be furious, and he couldnt have you finding him out just yet.

"Good night y/n" he sighs giving your forehead a soft kiss before dozing off.

Bonus

You woke up groping around for your phone, 10am, you huff, you start to sit up before being yanked back down, into the arms of the demon who snuck into you bed again.

"Wheres the fore babes? It's your day off, come play with old mr beebleboose~" the familiar coo of the undead bastard you welcome into your heart graced your ears.

"Morning beetlejuice" you sigh

"Sleep well doll? Feeling better, you sure were hot last night~" he teased giving your cheek a pinch

"Yeah, I am feeling better..." you trailed off, clearly amazed that you really DID sleep off those frustrations "werid dreams though.." you mumbled

Beej immediately perked up at that "oh~" he leans in nuzzling his face against yours "care to elaborate babes?" This was gonna be good, you were gonna be a cute flustered mess again.

You snort "dont get too excited there Bee, it's not like that, I was standing in the living room shaking a can of pop" you say flatly giving a jerk off type of movement with your hand, the ghoul's eyes grow wide at the gesture, tips of his hair turning pink "you were there, sitting infront of me, I tried to talk to you, but you didnt respond, I just kept shaking the can, till my arm hurt, then I opened it pointed directly at my face, spraying pop all over myself, then the rest is kinda fuzzy..." you trail off knitting your eyebrows together ad if you were trying to remember.

The demon let out a loud cackle causing you to flinch

"Oh babes, guess that dream helped you release all that tension huh?"

Your face burns when It clicks, rubbing you legs together and feeling the familiar feeling of a recent masterbation session, you didnt cum in your sleep did you? God, let's just hope beetlejuice wasnt awake when it happened...

#beetlejuice x reader #muscial beetlejuice x reader #nsft

[clandonnachaidh]

Light Across The Seas That Sever (Ch6)

AO3

“Mind ye’ve got that meeting this afternoon?” Ian reminded him for the thousandth time as they all sat at the breakfast table and Jamie fought the urge not to roll his eyes, already mildly annoyed at the fact that his bowl of porridge wasn’t quite right. He should’ve made it himself without backing down when Jenny had insisted on doing it for him, that way it would’ve been thick enough to plaster a wall with, just how he liked it. But his sister would never surrender the spurtle, working it through the oats and milk until they became creamy and setting a large bowl of sugar on the table, much to Jamie’s distaste. Thick enough to clart a wall and with enough salt to make your eyes water, that was exactly how he’d had it since he was a bairn, their mother taking hers in the same way. Only Jenny and their father had preferred that their breakfast be covered in sugar and the sweetness of the Scottish strawberries that grew wild on Lallybroch estate.

“Aye, I ken fine well enough,” Jamie grunted without turning his eyes towards Ian who was trying to encourage a spoonful into Wee Ian’s mouth. “Whit was the name of the estate again?”

“’Tis the only estate in Tomich but did I no’ tell ye? He’s changed the meeting to the golf club.”

It had been his idea to begin with but now Jamie was uncertain about how their drunken plan was taking shape. After one too many whiskies of a night, he and Ian had been sprawled in front of the fire as they chastised the blend that they were imbibing, arrogantly announcing that the two of them could do much better. Jamie hadn’t thought anything of it as he’d stumbled to his bed and let sleep take him but a few days later he found himself mending a fence post in the back field as Ian continued his musing about Broch Mordha putting its stamp on the world as a new destination for a premier whisky distillery and the two of them, its innovative creators.

Jamie grunted as he rose to his feet and deposited his bowl into the deep sink, letting the tap run to soak the dish and refusing to turn his body to take in the picture perfect family scene that was sat at the kitchen table.

“Mr Dunsany—“

“He’s a Lord, is he no’?”

“Is there a reason yer being a particularly crabbit arse this morning, brother?” Jenny’s voice was dripping with irritation, not wanting her nice family breakfast to be ruined by the interminable grey cloud that had been brewing over Jamie’s head for the past few weeks.

“Jen, leave him be.”

“I will not. He’s been a moanin’ greetin’ face since he came back from that bloody reunion and ’tis hell time he snapped out of it,” she said a little louder to ensure that Jamie heard the emphasis that she placed on the insult as it flew from her mouth.

This caused him to turn on his heel and level his sister with a careful eye.

“I’m sorry, Janet, but sometimes I think ye forget that there is a world outside of Lallybroch. Life can be a damn sight more complicated than poppin’ out weans and tending tae chickens, ye ken.”

If her temper didn’t hit the roof, her eyebrows certainly made a good go of it. Silently, her fingers curled tightly around the spoon, stilling herself against the pull of Wee Ian’s chubby little hand that was fisted in the material of her shirt, demanding attention.

“I ken that fine well, James. But ye canna jus’ come home every time ye see her and sulk like a wee bairn that doesna get what he wants. Grow up a wee bit, aye?”

At the end of her parting shot, Jamie felt the anger licking at the sides of his throat. The rage that he’d been directing towards himself was now begging to be let loose on someone else, someone that would bite back and Christ, Jenny would do just that. It had been this way since he’d come home, the frustration melting into a sullenness that had punctured the idyllic bubble that the family lived in at Lallybroch. In his worst thoughts, he resented both his sister and his best friend and the happiness that they shared. Jamie loved them to their bones, of course he did, but after leaving Oxford with yet another memory of how he’d let Claire slip through his fingers, the last thing he wanted to see was the very evident love between Jenny and Ian and their three children.

And so he found himself, in a suit that was a bit tight across his shoulders but he’d purchased anyway in a department store on the Inverness High Street, shaking hands with Lord William Dunsany in the bar of a golf club that he’d never seen fit to frequent himself. Jamie tried his hardest not to let the glances from the club members get to him as they walked around the lounge with an understated belonging the he’d never feel himself. He made sure that he gave a strong handshake, looking the shorter man straight in the eye and made the informed decision to swap from his usual Scots to his best Received Pronunciation, assuming that Lord Dunsany was one of those people who claimed to be a ’Scotchman’ but was as English as they come with the age old story of inheriting Scottish land as a birthright. Jamie had realised, however, that the man certainly knew his whisky and would make a not-half-bad business partner with himself and Ian if he managed to convince him to part with some cash.

Jamie was fuzzy on the details of how’d they’d come to the agreement but two hours and four whiskies later, he found himself once more shaking hands with Dunsany. The Lord would foot the seed money in exchange for a fairly sizeable but not unfair amount of the business and as a personal favour, Jamie would escort his eldest daughter around Edinburgh the following evening.

“She’s up here with me to get away from some nonsense that’s gone on at home but she’s been cooped up in her hotel for days while her mother tries to organise a townhouse for her. I just want her to get out and see the city. Who better to show her around than a native?”

Late next afternoon, his slight hangover thankfully having subsided after a coffee and a square sausage roll, Jamie stepped off of the train and onto the platform of Waverley Station in the heart of Edinburgh.

The tang of the breweries immediately filled his nostrils and he breathed deeply as the ever present sound of bagpipes floated down from the upper level of the street. While Lallybroch where was his heart lived, and he loved the humour and familiarity of Glasgow, Edinburgh held a special place in his heart. He never got tired of grabbing a coffee and walking the length of George Street in the sun, the castle bursting into view if he turned his eyes to the east.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he made his way towards the hotel that Dunsany had insisted on to putting him up in, the same one as his daughter just to make things simple. Although Jamie had spent many a morning diving into the spectacular breakfasts put on at one of his favourite places in Edinburgh, The Huxley, he had never imagined staying at The Caledonian that loomed over the small establishment just metres from its door.

Jamie didn’t quite know what to do as the doorman who was wearing a bloody top hat opened the door to the hotel for him so he settled on giving the man a polite smile, resisting an absurd urge to give him some type of formal bow. He had been in nice hotels before but nothing like this with its polished marble floor and a huge vases of fresh cut flowers on most surfaces that he could see.

“Mr Fraser, we have you in the Robert Louis Stevenson Suite for two nights. Here is your room key and it also includes the number for the Concierge, should you have any need. We have a table booked in the Peacock Alley bar for you and Miss Dunsany at 6pm this evening and I would be happy to make any dinner reservations you would like to make, within or outwith the hotel. Michael can get the rest of your bags from the car,” a neat blonde woman smiled at him from the reception desk as she inclined her head to the bellboy hovering at a polite distance over Jamie’s right shoulder.

“It’s nae bother, lass, I’ve only got the one bag,” Jamie muttered with a hint of embarrassment as he pulled the bag from the floor and swiped the keycards from the desk, smiling back at her. “Thank ye.”

When he stepped through the door that bore the name of one of Scotland’s most beloved authors, his growing Imposter Syndrome ramped up a few notches. Crossing the floor towards the window, Jamie was greeted by a beautiful view of the castle as it loomed over the city. He didn’t quite know how to act, having never been in such a large and clearly expensive hotel room. In fact, it wasn’t even a room, the woman at the desk had called it a suite.

Flicking through the TV channels for a little while, settling on the new show about Billy Connolly’s upbringing in Scotland, his fingers lazily scratched at the bare patch of skin just above his belt buckle. Something about being in a different city and having some time to himself made him feel lighter than he had in weeks and he gave himself permission to laugh at a particularly lewd joke that spilled from The Big Yin’s mouth on the TV.

Jamie’s phone, lying face up on the mattress beside his left shoulder, startled him as it gave a firm buzz. Sitting up, he opened the latest message from Geneva, telling him that she wanted to go out for dinner somewhere nice tonight. He was under no illusion as to the fact that when someone like Geneva Dunsany used the words ‘somewhere nice’, she was actually saying ‘somewhere expensive’. But thankfully, Jamie knew just the place and sent her a reply saying that he had it in hand before phoning down to the reception and having the helpful woman book a table at a restaurant he knew would be impressive enough but not so posh that he would feel out of his depth by eating there.

Although they’d messaged back and forth that afternoon, he hadn’t bothered to enlarge the tiny picture next to her name at the top of the screen. Toying with his phone, Jamie resolved that he had to know what the lass looked like, not wanting to have to shuffle embarrassingly around the bar trying to figure out who he was there to meet.

Her picture brought to its full size, he looked at her for the first time and tried was pleasantly surprised. She was clearly beautiful. Dark hair that flowed in loose waves over bare shoulders, her skin a beautiful olive brown from a summer tanning on a beach somewhere. She was looking at the camera dead on with a surety that came from a privileged upbringing, her face painted perfectly and a twist of the lips that couldn’t really be called a smile, as if she didn’t want to be seen to be having fun. She looked like every posh girl that Jamie had met in his life, every girl at university who would air kiss their friends on both cheeks while their manicured hands clutched at bags that cost more than his first car.

Suppressing a groan at the thought of spending a weekend with a person who no doubt came from an entirely separate world than the one he’d grown up in, Jamie divested himself of his socks as he plodded, bare feet on plush carpet, through to the bathroom to take a shower and clean himself up ahead of his evening.

Later, he sat at the bar, his fingers playing with the patterns on the cut crystal glass that housed his double whisky, he felt a gentle hand rest on his shoulder.

“James Fraser?”

His stomach dropped into the floor.

The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind at what hearing his name fall from the lips of an Englishwoman would do to him. He felt an absurd wave of revulsion swipe through him in an instant and he took a quick drink before turning on his stool to face her, swallowing the bile that had risen up in his throat.

“Och, lass, nobody really calls me James. Ye can call me Mac. ’Tis another one of my family names,” he tried to sound light and not as if the sounds of his name leaving her lips felt like the flesh on his back had been ripped open to the bone.

There was a reluctance in her eyes and he immediately knew that she was uncomfortable so he did his best to send her his most charming smile, gesturing for her to sit and then signalling to the bartender.

“What would ye like tae drink?”

“Martini, if you would, extra dry, extra dirty,” she ordered confidently as the bartender nodded and turned to begin preparing it for her.

With her chin in the air, she asked, “So, my father said you were a business associate?”

“Aye, I suppose I am now. My brother-in-law and myself wish to start our own whisky company. Your father has kindly offered to help.”

“My father isn’t generally in the habit of helping out of kindness.”

“Aye, well, hopefully he trusts that we ken what we’re doing. Or that we’ll figure it out at the very least,” Jamie tried to joke but she gave him nothing. There was something cold in her demeanour that he hoped he wouldn’t have to fight against for the whole evening.

After watching the martini disappear down Geneva’s throat in record time, he offered her an arm as they left the hotel and were hit by the cool air of Edinburgh in the evening. As soon as Jamie took the first step towards Princes Street, Geneva halted.

“We’re walking?”

“’Tis no’ far, only ten minutes or so. We have time before our reservation,” he replied, gently tugging on the arm that she’d looped through his so that she would begin to walk with him. Her feet stayed firmly planted on the concrete.

“These are £500 shoes, I’m not walking anywhere.”

“Lass, Edinburgh is a city tae get lost in. If we get a taxi we’ll just be looking at the sides of buses and traffic lights. Yer father asked me tae show ye the city,” letting her arm slip from his, Jamie took a step forward and gestured towards the castle, atmospherically lit from beneath now that the sun had gone down. He turned back to her with a kind smile and held out his hand. “Let me, aye?”

Reluctantly, she acquiesced and let him lead her away from the hotel. Jamie’s skin tingled at the contact and he realised that he hadn’t touched a woman apart from Jenny since the university reunion with Claire. He flexed his fingers experimentally and felt something swell in the pit of his stomach when Geneva tightened her grip in response.

The two of them made small talk as they walked through Princes Street gardens and up towards the restaurant, Geneva seeming happy enough with the venue that he’d chosen. He’d heard good things about The Witchery before and as they sat down at a table covered in a pristine white cloth, surrounded by painted dark wood on the walls and ceilings, he noticed how pretty Geneva looked in the candlelight. Only a fool would try to argue that she wasn’t beautiful. But there was a coldness to her that hadn’t warmed yet and so he kept on being as charming as he could, hoping that another glass of wine might bring down the steely demeanour that she seemed to hold on to for dear life.

Oxford had been full of girls like Geneva Dunsany. Wealthy, privileged and confident. After four years of university, Jamie had perfected the art of tuning out their inane conversation about which exotic place they’d spent their summer, who’s guestlist they’d been placed on for the weekend and what they were planning on wearing. So he knew how to respond to her constant stream of speech, nodding and agreeing in the right places and sending dazzling smiles across the table when he felt like rolling his eyes. Though somehow, he found that he didn’t actually dislike Geneva Dunsany. Something in her eyes, or maybe it was the way she chose her words, showed Jamie that the poor little rich girl personality was an act. Underneath the mask, she felt the same way that he did—unfathomably sad.

Something inside of him felt sorry for her, recognising the pain that he knew all too well in another. And while he didn’t particularly care for the woman, Jamie decided to be kind to her. He leaned closer across the table and started to respond to her stories with anecdotes of his own. With the help of another two martinis, she began to blossom in his company and the two shared a relatively pleasant evening together.

When they reached the hotel elevator, Jamie had nothing on his mind other than stripping off his constricting shirt and sleeping off the whisky cloud that was hanging somewhere around his temples.

“What’s on the agenda now, then?” Geneva asked as they stood side by side.

“Shower then bed, I think.”

“Sounds good to me,” she all but whispered, Jamie’s head twisting to see the dark look of seduction that was painted on her face. “Mind if I join you?”

He didn’t say no.

It was shocking how easily he slipped into the worst version of himself. There had been a few nights in the past where he’d spent too much time and money in the pub in Broch Mordha and woken up the morning with some woman curled around him at whatever bed and breakfast they’d invited him back to. He only ever slept with women who were in the area for the moment, never anyone who he’d run into again. It was always when he was half gone with drink, his body acting solely on blind need that he succumbed to his baser instincts.

The doors of the elevator opened and Geneva walked in purposefully, turning to look at him with an alluring smile. Jamie walked in beside her and pressed the number for her floor.

They found pleasure in each other’s bodies but it was skin deep at best. A simple matter of scratching an itch that they both clearly had and had resolved to using the other to sate that particular need. There were no delicate touches or gazes held for any real length of time. Jamie set himself to work, making sure that she got hers before followed suit. It was perfunctory. Pleasant. And when they both uttered their subdued sounds of fulfilment, Geneva immediately rolled away from him, shielding herself once more.

“Do ye want me to go?” Jamie’s voice broke through the dark silence of the room.

Her response was barely a whisper, “Please.”

He dressed quickly, roughly, and scrambled around in the dark for his phone that had fallen from his pocket. Geneva was lying as still as a statue but Jamie could hear the odd sniff from her and realised that she had begun to cry. After dithering between his options, his inherent gentlemanliness won out.

“Is there anything I can do?”

There was no response for a few seconds and he took that as his answer, beginning to move towards the door of the room when a single word stopped his hand from turning the doorknob.

“Stay.”

Keeping his eye on her as though she was a frightened animal that might bolt at any provocation, he slowly began to undress. When she moved over slightly to give him room to get under the covers, he did just that and felt a strange sense of kinship as she wrapped her body around his. Jamie held her, stroking her hair until she fell asleep in his arms. The sound of her gentle breathing was the only thing filling the room until his phone suddenly pinged with a notification.

Facebook Congratulate Claire Beauchamp on their engagement!

Before he could stop himself, he opened the app and looked at the posed photograph of the two of them, her left ring finger showing off an almost comically large diamond ring.

After telling our friends and family, we are so happy to announce that we are engaged! We thank everyone so far for their kind words and well wishes. From the future Mr and Mrs Frank Randall.

Every muscle on his body was thrumming with energy. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what the energy was made from. Rage? Fear? Utter desolation? Whatever it was, it was coiling its way around his ribs, holding him in stasis and holding him hostage as he experienced it.

He wasn’t even considered a friend anymore, seeing as he hadn’t been given the privilege of a private message, having to find out through fucking Facebook. She had clearly changed in her time in Boston, the Claire he knew would never have given up her name and become Mrs Frank Randall. Randall-Beauchamp at the very least, for Christs sake.

Tasting the rare metallic nature of blood in his mouth, Jamie realised that he was biting the inside of his cheek. He felt the need to get up and do something, anything to expel the energy that was going to burst out of him if he didn’t channel it into something. But he was stilled by the feel of Geneva’s naked body against his and a rush of guilt tried to swallow him whole.

How dare he question Claire’s life, assume to know her situation all the while he was in bed with another woman. Reminding himself for the hundredth time that Claire had made her choice and it wasn’t him, he swallowed his pride and went to send her a message, even though he knew it wasn’t a smart idea.

He shouldn’t have had that final whisky.

Jamie: Just seen the news. Congratulations to you and yours.

A blatant lie but what was he supposed to say?

To his surprise, her reply was almost immediate.

Claire: Thank you!

Short and to the point. Two words that would shut down any further conversation, a feigned attempt at excitement and gratitude that he prided himself on being able to see through.

He knew that he would have been one of many to send the same sentiment that day but he had kidded himself that his text would receive a more personalised response. Maybe all she thought of him was a copy and paste response as she planted her phone down screen first on the sofa before climbing into the arms of her future husband.

In an attempt to hold the tears at bay, Jamie curled an arm around Geneva’s prone body, bringing up his hands to his arm and pressing his palms into his eyes until he saw stars.

#light across the seas that severed #clan donnachaidh #ao3 #outlander fanfic #jamie fraser #Claire beauchamp #outlander #modern au