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tteokdoroki · 8 months

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ೀ⋆OCT 3RD MEAN GIRLS ━━ katsuki bakugou + free use !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. katsuki bakugou + free use. on october third, he asked you what day it was. btw, in girl world, halloween is the only time of the year when katsuki bakugou can slut girls out and no one can say anything about it. boo, you whore! (4.9K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, characters aged up to 20s, college!au, free use, dub-con, cum-play, voyeurism, humiliation, manipulation, dacryphilia, no prep, public sex(ish), unprotected sex, suprise guest appearance from shouto as aaron samuels, fem!reader, reigina george coded!bakugou.

୨୧ — director’s note. "it's october third." and you know what that means! another nasty kinktober fic for you all! i hope you enjoy this one, its probably my favourite...because uh hello!? reigina george and bakugou? name a more iconic duo! anyways enjoy mwah! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

halloween is the only time of the year where anyone can dress like a slut and not get called one for it.

in the world of the conventionally attractive (or the plastics), the kings and queens of the social jungle, it means ditching the guts and gore in favour of skin tight lingerie with a little fake blood that drips calculatedly through the valley between your breasts — just for a little bit of added attention. it’s the one night of the year where self-objectification becomes acceptable, and you by all means, were not planning on missing out.

for you, a well spent Halloween consisted of tooth rotting candy corn, bad movies and trying to avoid the feeling of fomo (fear of missing out, fyi) building up like fluid in the lungs of a sick person. you’ve been an a-grade loser all your life and you’ve never had the chance to experience a proper friend group, high school, (and now) college experience.

however this year would be different. this year you would be ditching loser-ville for boobs and bunny ears and the shortest dress you could find. because you finally had a friendship group who did these kinds of things and you had an invite to the biggest festive rager hosted by the hottest guy on campus — shouto todoroki.

the rest of your friend group, the college renowned plastics, had warned you not to get involved with the half and half campus jock. he already had relations to your beloved ring leader, katsuki bakugou, and your involvement would be breaking several laws of girl and guy code — according to dumb blonde kaminari (he swears he has ESPN or something). katsuki was the head of U.A. university, ruling over the entire student body with an iron fist, an attitude so mean you’re sure you’ve seen professors cry and a glare so sinister he could turn milk sour if he tried hard enough.

bakugou was the definition of the picture perfect guy and he knew it. it was almost as if his face had been ripped straight from a vogue magazine, his shoulders broad, waist slutty and tiny, abs to die for too — you’d be a liar to say you hadn’t thought about him a few times before bed. katsuki was a king bee (if bees could even have kings) and you were a nobody lucky enough to have been indoctrinated into his group of flawless friends — taken under the guidance of his wing.

your own friends had told you not to fall for the glitz and the glamour that seemed to follow the barbie blonde everywhere he went. but you couldn’t help it, you were enamoured by everything that katsuki did — turned a blind eye to his bitchy persona and twisted mindset. you hardly believed the rumours about him, blissfully ignoring the truth behind the gossip because katsuki was nice to you. just the other night he had been kind enough to offer his help in setting you up with shouto. even if kirishima had tattle told on you.

regardless, katsuki had your back — you knew that. he was even talking to shouto right now, admist the full swing of the halloween party. how could anyone ever hate bakugou? he was so kind, so considerate, treating you like family from the moment you got here. you see shouto look your way fondly as they chatter about you, his lips curling perfectly around your name while he sends you a wave that makes you feel like the only girl in the world.

“she likes you, yanno.” the shorter blonde purrs, the corner of his perfectly plump lips twitching up into a knowing grin. he says your name, glowering at the way his ex perks up at the mention.

shouto blinks slow, mismatched eyes filling with affection the longer he looks at you awkwardly swaying to music you’ve never heard before. “yeah? she does?”

“it’s adorable, really. she writes your fuckin’ name in the corner of her notes with little hearts. even has the name of your future brats written in a cute little list.” the lie slips from bakugou easily, as if manipulating people is second nature to him.

“don’t bother with that, katsuki.”

when todoroki’s gaze on you lingers for too long, he kicks it up a notch pressing the head of his body into his ex’s side. “listen, half ‘n half,” with his eyes dark and sensual, the blonde allows his voice to slip into deeper, more mocking tones — playing up this innocent act. one that shouto falls for every time. “i know that she can be a little fuckin’ weird but, she’s my friend…so be nice, yeah?”

men are such fickle creatures — for all it takes is a pair of sweltering, red puppy dog eyes to drag the jock under his spell. shouto nods slowly, his own topaz and granite eyes glossing over with some form of obedience, a loyalty to bakugou that no one else would understand. “yeah, alright.”

“good,” bakugou purrs, the sound causing his brain to short circuit. “such’a good friend, half ‘n half.” the tail end of his words are replaced by the sloppy sound effect of his lips on shouto’s, tongues beginning to clash and hands possessively gripping waists.

your rose-tinted window shatters at the sight.

background conversation falls away as your friend and your crush begin to make out right in front of your fucking eyes. “you know who’s looking fine tonight, neito monoma.” kaminari squeals, shimmying in his little mouse costume.

“denki, that’s your cousin.” kirishima frowns.

the blonde shrugs. “yeah! but he’s my first cousin…that’s not right is it,”

you don’t have time to dwell on their chit chat — you feel like someone has thrown your entire body out of whack. you feel like you’re drowning as the realisation hits, katsuki bakugou doesn’t give a shit about you or your feelings. storming away from the scene, you make for the nearest bedroom, hurt and confusion swirling around in the tightness of your chest.

“what are you doin’ in here sweetness? ‘minari and kirishima have been looking everywhere for ya.”

you’re still crying like a sore loser when the king of the plastics finds you hauled up in one of shouto’s many rooms. and you hate that it’s katsuki who’s come to comfort you, sitting beside you on the queen sized bed as his hand slips over your bare thigh.

but you shrug him off, barely keeping your cool. after all, you’re still mad at him for making out with your crush. “don’t touch me, katsuki.” you snarl, doing your best to sound menacing. “i saw what you did. how could you? i thought we were friends?”

he clicks his tongue, ruby red eyes rolling as if he gives a fuck. “oh, you mean that thing with icyhot?” you don’t understand how the blonde can be so nonchalant, tossing around the situation as if it weighs nothing — costing not an ounce of your feelings. “he came onto me, sweetness. i’d never do somethin’ like that to you.”

denying katsuki bakugou is never an easy feat, he’s a man that knows where his strengths lie. in the deep timber of his rumbling voice and those eyes, with the blood lust curled around each of his pupils. katsuki is a well trained hunter, and on this occasion, you are his prey. a large hand smooths over the meaty swell of your trembling thigh, pushing the likely pair wide open for him to make room between them. “i’m a good friend, r’member?”

his hands roam your blistering hot body, gripping and grabbing at your flesh from over your costume — it feels good, you feel wanted and melt like a lump of butter in a pan at every cascading touch of his.

you’d be smart to come to your senses, before you’re snapped up in the unrelenting jaws of a hunter. but you’re entranced by those insanely red eyes, the perfect slant to his lips and all-knowing smile — it’d be useless to escape when you’ve fallen this deep. “you’re not…” your bottom lip wobbles, the achy feeling in your chest now submissive to the liquid lust katsuki has spent months conditioning you to feel. “you’re a bad friend.”

“d’aw…you don’t think i am?” dropping his tone into a sultry coo, bakugou leans in real close and you instinctively follow the tilt of his head. he looms over you, just enough so that you can see the smear of pink eyeshadow across his eyelids, the plasticky glisten of lip gloss masking the true colour of his plump lips, along with the spark of lust swirling through the brown flecks in his eyes.

you shake your head no. “no, you’re not.” big mistake.

the of temperature of the room rises just from his proximity and you find yourself willing to let the king of the plastics swallow you whole. “i don’t think i like the way yer talkin’ to me, sweets.” he growls darkly and in warning. “i should make you apologise for bein’ so fuckin’ mean.”

his breath is warm and wet against your cheek, grip rough on your waist and you can’t help but think how mean he is to you. katsuki gaslights you like it’s second nature or another one of his five senses, manipulates you with ease, putting himself on you when you know you can’t say no. because without him you would have been in social suicide, you wouldn’t have any friends, you wouldn’t have had the college experience. you would have just been ordinary.

“gimme a kiss, gorgeous.” the blonde bites down on your lower tip, tugging it away from you because he misses the metallic taste of golden blood on you — the taste of blossoming obedience in your bloodstream.

you push back, but it’s no use — bakugou’s closing the gap before your brain can even catch up, fizzing like candied pop rocks while you sink further into debauchery.

“c’mon…” he forces his tongue past the seams of your lips, bursting through with only the darkest of intentions. you briefly seize up, because your body knows this isn’t what you want, at least not 100%. but katsuki knows how to work stubborn, prude little things like you — squeezing down on your waist heartily as he leads you into a stupid-drunk kiss. “that’s it, there we go…good fuckin’ girl.”

the world tilts on its axis and you grow lightheaded at the blonde’s praise — you should be mad at him for kissing your crush but at the same time, you’ve never wanted someone so bad. mewling against his watermelon and alcohol flavoured lips is like sealing your fate, giving up little pieces of yourself just to appease your ring leader.

“katsuki, i don’t—“

his thumb digs into your cheeks, preventing you from pulling away — not that you’d want to. wet sounds from your kisses vibrate through you and cause a twinge in the heartbeat between your thighs. “i wasn’t askin’, i was tellin’.” he grunts into your drooling mouth, wide open to echo your sweet and pliant voice. it’s with those words that you remember your place, being a plastic requires sacrifices — for you to give up pieces of yourself in order to stay by katsuki’s side.

including letting him use your mind, body and soul freely.

“so fuckin’ pretty when you’re obedient for me,” he’s snarls, hot under the collar and eager to steal more from you. he grins at how your eyes roll back just from a couple of half-hearted words. leaning back, katsuki shrugs off his shirt, revealing his perfectly carved hips and washboard abs, golden skin that only the gods could have blessed him with. the sight of him is enough to make your quivering cunt deep juices into the crotch of your panties. “let’s get back at sho, huh? for playin’ us both.”

the lines of morality and dissoluteness are often blurred when you’re with him — you become a vessel for his pleasure and you don’t even think to mind. somewhere amidst the messy, sensual lip locks bated breaths, katsuki has managed to get you onto your back and tear through your skimpy little halloween costume to suck his claim into your neck. painting you with deep mauve and midnight blue hues. his eyes dilate, roaring obsidian black taking over his mean, rage filled red eyes in a way that lets you know how bad he wants to fuck you.

it’s when the sharp edges of his canines graze your pulse point that you remember just how much of a wild jungle college is. you remember that katsuki has the ability to make your life a living hell, the power to take a bite and rip your throat out at any second. in this world, you are nothing but a meek gazelle and katsuki bakugou the lion ready for a feast.

irrespective of how much the very fact may frighten you, you ignore bakugou’s talons as they sink into your chest and leave indented crescent moons on against each breast. he rips apart the costume you worked so hard on and pushes your hands away from your body when you attempt to cover yourself up. so, from that moment, you let lust slither over your brain so you can arch yourself into him for more pleasure, and remind yourself that even if you're being used — it feels good. katsuki feels good.

you like that he’s a little mean, a mean girl. all teeth and tongue and biting when he licks into you and breaks the strings of honey saliva that tie your tongue to the roof of your mouth. you love how he roughly grabs you by the meat at your hips and tugs you up to meet the grind of his cock against your underwear. you adore how he pulls the very fabric apart like they’re nothing, rolling you onto your stomach and positioning your hips in a way that makes your back arch.

you don’t even realised that bakugou has kicked off the lower part of his costume until you feel the heat of his firm thighs against the backs of your own and the sticky tap of his flushed cockhead on your ass cheeks — smearing white globs of precum over your hot skin. the blonde groans at the visible twitch of your cunt, the way it glistens and spews lightly for him.

“oh sweetheart,” he laughs through the coagulated feeling of prurience in his throat. “so fuckin’ wet for me, hah?” he manages, spreading your ass cheeks apart hungrily, a curious finger running through your slick folds and dragging your wetness over your pulsating clit. “s’kinda embarrassing. barely even touched you.”

the situation is embarrassing, humiliating almost and a fresh set of tears burn at your waterline — mascaras already tracking down your cheeks. you don’t fight bakugou as a muscled arm snakes it’s way around your waist and pulls you onto him until your sex is flush against bakugou’s thick cock — your hearts beating in sync, heavy breathing in tune. his dripping dick slips and slides a through your quivering pussy lips, grinding against the pulse in your clit before easing the mushroomed tip through the tight ring at your entrance.

“f-fuck!” you squeak, a little out of turn. fuckdolls don’t talk. katsuki is quick to growl and remind you, collapsing his entire weight into your body while you take him with ease. no prep required whatsoever. there’s a delicious burn as his girth stretches you wide open and he fucks you with just the tip — a pleasing buzz layering itself over your logical thoughts. the ones that tell you this isn’t right. the ones that tell you that you’re more than just a plastic play thing.

bakugou squeezes your hips harshly when you push back onto him, desperate to be fed more of his cock. “keep fuckin’ still, alright?” the king of the plastics rasps, taunting you as he thrusts all the way into your tight heat with no warning. you ooze at the sudden stimulation, basking in the weight of his dick against the insides of your crying cunt and fluttering walls. “sho’s gonna love this, maybe he’ll really want you then.” he continues to purr, jamming a thumb past your swollen lips to press down on your tongue. his other hand grasps at his phone once lost in the sheets, talking a picture of your teary face while you suck on his digit to soothe yourself.

like a baby sucking on a pacifier as it cries.

sending the photo to shouto, bakugou takes a few more selfies of you like this. his favourite is the one of your face squished between his large fingers, covered in salty tears and sticky drool. “don’t cry sweets. ‘m gonna fix this, help you get together. what are friends for?”

his voice is soft, nose nudging against your cheek in a reassuring manner.

but it’s all too good to be true.

briefly, there’s a second where everything is calm, where the blonde lets you relax around him between gentle juts of his hips forward and affectionate kisses peppered against your skin. you should have realised that katsuki’s pleasure is always above your own. because he suddenly finds the motivation to pull out of your snug, sensual heat to pound into you properly, dragging is seedy cock along all of the spots along your ribbed walls that make you see stars.

you feel like a pocket pussy, only one that comes with crybaby wails and pitiful hiccuped noises. it’s all music to katsuki’s ears, blending seamlessly with the intense base from the party’s music and thump of the headboard smashing against the wall all from the sheer force of his thrusts into you. it’s easy to forget how humiliatingly loud you’re being, you can’t find yourself to be worried about someone catching you either. even if the door is wide open.

why not? because katsuki claims you willingly, over and over again with each brutish brush of his leaky cockhead against your g-spot. “s-suki! please.” you slur around his fingers that fuck your drooling mouth in perfect rhythm with his dick that plunged in and out of your puckered, creamy hole.

“yeah, yeah. i gotcha. give into me, sweetness.”

where he had been keeping you pinned against the sex-soaked cheeks — bakugou pulls his sweaty chest away from your back and adjusts the roll of his hips, letting them crash into you like waves on a shoreline. to support his body weight above you, his toned arms cage you in, head tilted to the side to watch you sniffle on his dick, red rimming your watery eyeline. “you’re so fuckin’ pretty when you cry, sweetheart.” he moans condescendingly against the shell of your ear, painting a chaste kiss against your wet cheek. “what a pretty fuckin’ girl, suckin’ me in… takin’ my cock. oh fuck.”

if you could see him, will yourself from the pillows you take purchase in and use to muffle your salacious screams — you would notice how an evil smirk as spread across the blonde’s lips while he ravages you, fucks you beyond the stars and back. “you my pretty girl, yeah? fuckin’ sweet thing.” the praise has you spiralling and simultaneously soothes the burning hatred you have for katsuki in your chest. “why you cryin’ so much? is it over him, or over me?”

the answer to his question slips out of you faster than your sex-crazed brain can catch up. “o-over you!” it’s like you can’t even think for yourself, make any choices for your body outside of what bakugou has planned for you. you’d do anything to please him so that he keeps fucking you, so that you can forget your feelings and keep your place amongst the socially elite. maybe that makes you selfish, maybe it makes you dumb — that you’re a whore for katsuki’s bully cock that churns up your guts and uses you for ecstasy filled relief.

“y-yeah? mmhm, just like that baby,” katsuki stutters, licking his lips while you throw it back on him. the weak snap of his voice (caused by you clenching down on him) has you gushing nastily down bakugou’s length. bathing him in your juices, dripping down his balls as they clap against your ass, and swing against your clit.

“yeah…yeah…y-you’re my friend, k-katsuki! didn’t wanna lose you…”

satisfied with your response and feeling a little mean once more, the king of the plastics brings a heavy hand down against your ass before gripping it tight, forcing you back and forth on his creamed dick. you hiss at the newfound pain blooming underneath your skin, blinking back more tears.

“that’s right sweets, you’ll let me do anythin’ to keep me right? stay bein’ friends.” bakugou barks salaciously into your shoulder blade. greed and power and control sparks between your bodies that move in sync with one another, your hips shakily attempting to catch up with his rough pace.

you gasp when he hits a spot that’s got you howling at the moon. “y-yes, god, yes!”

“even let me fuck your crush? let me fuck you in front’a him?”

all you can do is nod and gargle in response, passionately sucking on his fingers. “get ‘em nice and wet for me. wanna play with you, gorgeous.” he nips at your skin, leaving the imprint of his canines against you before his red eyes laser focus on where your bodies continually meet. “lift your hips. atta girl.”

a heinous squeal escapes you, borderline pornographic as katsuki fumbles between your body and shouto’s high thread count sheets. his sticky fingers press into your pleasure nub in tight, calculated circles and he rewards the sound of your choked moans with another barrage of love bites to your neck. ones that you won’t be able to cover up. ones that show how much you’ve been used.

you wonder if his appetite for your dedication will ever be satisfied. even though your pussy works it’s way back onto him and swallows his cock down like fucking magic — bakugou still wants more of you. he grins sinisterly at the bruises that form just under your skin, that make you hiss when he licks over them and spills his curse words over against that sensitive spot underneath your ear. the sensitivity makes you yelp loudly, despite the people that walk by.

including none other than shouto todoroki.

“you’d even let him watch as i creamed your cute cunt, wouldn’t ya? so pathetic. it’s adorable, sweetness.” the blonde goads, pulling back so that he can get a better view of your ass bouncing against his slender hips. spreading you apart with large hands, he drools down onto his cock and your asshole, spitting onto the point at which his shaft slips inside of you — watching the white froth mix in with your viscous nectar and disappear into the creaminess of your tight hole.

your crush audibly gasps as he enters the room — mismatched eyes drinking in the view of you being absolutely wrecked from behind by his ex. shouto can’t help but admire your puffy face and equally puffy folds while he settles on the bed next to katsuki. he has no idea how his feet even carried him there.

“bakugou what are you—?”

the tail end of shouto’s words slip away when you clench down hard on bakugou, his head falling onto the latter’s shoulder while you share shaky moans. “oh my god,” katsuki pants, pulsing against your silken walls and driving his dick upwards into your sweltering mound. “you’re fuckin’ obsessed with me. with him. you just won’t let this dick go, will ya?”

admitting that you like shouto watching you get fucked by bakugou would be just as embarrassing as admitting your crush on him. it doesn’t matter if you’re crying too hard to confess the matter with words, both of them know it. they can tell by the way your pussy spasms around katsuki’s bulbous cockhead as it bullies it’s way into you with every thrust. “see icyhot, told ya she was a weirdo,” He chuckles down at you menacingly. “letting me be the one t’stretch her pussy open even though you’re the one that she wants. s’so embarrassing.”

todoroki let’s out a noncommittal grunt, equally amused by the situation like his ex. “yeah… so weird…”

he reaches around to grab at the fat of your waist and tugs you back onto katsuki so that his dick never leaves you. so that your clit is smooshed up against perfect abs, that contract with every thrust and overstimulate you.

maybe it’s not such a bad thing to be used by the king of the plastics, if it means shouto gets to touch you too.

“i think she’s about to cum, katsuki.” the two-toned haired jock states as if it’s obvious, his voice husky and low as the scent of sex trickles into the air. “you’re gonna make her cum, baby.”

“can fuckin’ feel it, she’s ‘boutta make a mess of me.” they share a lustful look behind you, that leads to them sharing sloppy, uncoordinated kisses as if you’re not even there. truly treating you like a sex toy to be used whenever, wherever.

the sounds of their kisses ring in your ears, cause heat to burn at your cheeks and shame to settle in your chest once again. but this time, you don’t fucking care — not when you’re close to cumming, not when both of the people you adore in your life are using little old you.

forcing you back and forth over katsuki’s dick even faster, shouto finds it in himself to address you, moaning out your name. “a-are you close?” he simpers, tongue rolling over his ex’s.

“i— i am. p-please. let me cum. lemme cum. lemme c-cum—!” you chant as if it’s the gospel, voice tapering off into a set of whistle tone simpers as you finally hit your high. black spots dot your vision, katsuki using a last burst of energy to canter into you, slamming against your g-spot over and over again. the dam breaks before your brain can register it, release trickling out of your fluttering hole like a flash flood after a vicious storm. it soaks his soft tuft of blonde pubes and soils the sheets below, your body wracked with shakes and aftershocks.

katsuki's cock against your cervix being the epicentre.

the two men behind you share a sick little laugh when you collapse into the sheets face first, both of them leaning down to kiss either of your cheeks soothingly.

“so fuckin’ cute ‘n loyal,” bakugou coos in a twisted tone, pulling out of you to jerk himself off over your quivering body.

shouto smiles and rubs soothing circles in the small of your back in an attempt to calm you down — taking pleasure in your tiny sniffles and hiccups while you come down from your high.

“your turn, bakugou.” he purrs slightly, using his arm to prop himself up on the bed for a perfect view of you both.

“mmfuck, shit ‘m so close.” colourful curses spew from between bakugou’s perfect, cherry bitten lips just as he hits his peak. slick sounds accompany the movements of his rough palm up and down his length, coaxing himself towards orgasm. he cums with a shout, a feral growl tearing his chest in two with how loud it is. all while ropes of his blistering hot and white cum land on your ass, pussy and back.

he collapses next to shouto after that.

you feel a finger drag through the hot mess on your back and turn around just in time to watch bakugou feed a scoop of his cum to your crush. todoroki sucking his fingers happily. “go get her a towel, icyhot.” he demands, and like a slave to the crown, todoroki follows — disappearing from the room in search for a rag to clean you up with. surprisingly, the blonde helps you to sit up, taking you into his chest so you can snuggle against it. “don’t cry sweetness, s’okay. i forgive you for thinkin’ i was a bad friend.”

tilting your chin up, you’re rewarded with a firm chaste kiss — swallowing katsuki’s moans as he tastes the saltine tears in your lips. “you’ll never do it again, right?”

“r-right…” you reply meekly, flinching at the blonde who boops your nose almost affectionately.

he busies himself with fixing your costume until shouto returns with a wet rag to wipe the cum from between your thighs and the rest of you. you try not to let it get to you when they share another passionate kiss, sucking on each other’s tongues and mussing up each other’s hair until they’re all rosy cheeked and short of breath.

you would be a fool to think that you ever stood a chance with shouto todoroki after tonight.

much like you, he’s just another piece in katsuki’s game of chess. he’ll never escape the toxic cycle of their relationship when things keep going like this.

“you look sexy with your hair pushed back, icyhot.” katsuki says to shouto once they come up for air, ruffling his silky locks out of place. his ruby, crazed, gaze slinks over to you next, a coy smirk playing at his lips. “sweetness, tell him, icyhot he looks sexy with his hair pushed back.”

katsuki bakugou is terrible. evil. conniving. but he’s all you’ve got, even if he is a mean girl.

“shouto…you look sexy with your hair pushed back.”

2K notes · View notes

dark-dawn · 8 days

Text

❝ HEART RATE HIGHS !! ❞ – azriel x reader

✭ pairing: gym rat ! azriel x archeron ! reader

✭ summary: you swear you only have a gym membership for self-improvement. it’s definitely not to see the cute guy you have a crush on.

✭ contains: modern au, f!reader, college au, but age is vague, anxious!reader who can’t see that azriel is already a little in love with you, gym culture, alcohol, meddling sisters, because reader is terrible at talking to guys, mutual pining.

✭ word count: 3k+ ✭ a/n: i absolutely love gym fics and i couldn't stop thinking about azriel in a compression shirt, so if i have to suffer, so do you <3

“wait, did i hear you properly? you’re going to the gym?” nesta’s voice cuts through the quiet murmur of the lecture hall. heads turn, and the professor pauses mid-sentence, frowning at the interruption. you cringe at the sudden attention and whisper an apology, slouching in your seat to avoid the stares.

“you’re acting like i’ve just sprouted wings,” you respond, trying to keep your voice low.

nesta blinks, her surprise melting into scepticism. “well, it is out of character for you. the gym, are you sure?”

“yes.”

“really?”

you nod.

you can’t blame her for being doubtful. among your sisters, you’re the most averse to exercise. even elain, thanks to her gardening, could likely outlift you. but –

“i don’t know if i should be offended that you’re so surprised.”

“hey, it’s not personal,” nesta replies, her voice softer as she glances around the room. the professor had resumed teaching and students were slowly returning their attention to their notes. “it’s just... unexpected. i mean, last time i suggested going for a jog, you looked at me like i’d grown a second head.”

“yeah, well, i just figured it’s about time i start taking better care of myself.”

“what brought this on all of a sudden?”

you shrug, trying to put your thoughts into words. “i guess i just realised that i’ve been neglecting my health lately. with school and everything else going on, i haven’t been feeling so great.”

nesta nods in understanding, letting you continue. neither of you really cared about this class, after all, and it wasn’t the first time you’d been called out for talking through a lecture.

“i just thought it might be a good way to clear my head, you know? like, a chance to zone out and focus on something other than deadlines and exams.”

“if you turn into a gym rat and only eat chicken and rice, i’m disowning you.”

“you’d have to pry ice cream from my cold, dead hands,” you say, nudging nesta with a grin. “nothing can take away my love of carbs and cheesy fries.”

“uh-huh, sure. that’s what they all say until they’re posting pictures of their meal prep on instagram.”

“you have no faith in me, do you?”

“none whatsoever,” she replies with a grin. “but hey, if this gym thing helps you feel better, i’m all for it.”

“if i ever mention a juice cleanse, you have full permission to stage an intervention.”

“deal. and if you lecture me on the importance of pre-workout supplements, i’m kicking you out of the apartment.”

after your year abroad, you found yourself back at the university of velaris, settling into a new rhythm with your three sisters. the four of you had decided to share an apartment, a decision fuelled by equal parts necessity and nostalgia. it wasn’t long before familiar routines took shape amidst the chaos of unpacked boxes and endless debates over furniture placement.

besides, feyre had been spending most of her time at her new boyfriend’s apartment, leaving a bit more breathing room for the rest of you. you hadn’t met him yet, but you’d heard he came from money and his penthouse had skyline views, so you could hardly blame her.

nesta wasn’t a fan, muttering something about “trust fund babies” under her breath whenever his name came up in conversation. but feyre seemed happy, and ultimately, that was what mattered most, even if a twinge of jealousy occasionally crept in.

“you should come with me.”

“i would rather die,” she snorts. “doesn’t mor work out? you should ask her.”

“no way, i’d look even more unfit next to her. i have some pride.”

“wow, so you ask me instead. you’re such a bitch,” she laughs.

as luck would have it, the gym was just a 10-minute walk away, conveniently offering a discounted price for students. the only downside was going alone.

“but i don’t know how to use the equipment,” you groan.

“and you think i do?” your sister retorts.

“well, no, but at least i wouldn’t look like the only idiot.”

“just find someone with muscles and ask them,” she suggests.

“right, of course, because i’m so great at talking to strangers.”

nesta raises an eyebrow, her lips twitching with amusement. “so, what’s your plan then? to stand in the corner and hope the smith machine starts talking to you?”

“maybe,” you mumble, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. you didn’t even know what a smith machine was until this morning.

nesta lets out a dramatic sigh, shaking her head. “stop being such a baby and put a cute workout outfit on. you’ll be fine.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

you were very much not fine.

the blonde girl at the front desk, with her bouncing ponytail and bright smile that could probably power the entire gym, was very nice. she had given you a tour of the gym, showing you the rows of gleaming equipment and weight racks, and enthusiastically pointed out the array of classes available, from yoga and spin to high-intensity interval training.

she had, however, assumed you knew how to use everything, and you hadn’t been brave enough to correct her.

you had nodded along, trying to absorb the barrage of information she threw at you, but each machine seemed more complicated than the last, and you were positive some of them belonged in a medieval torture chamber.

but you could do this. if guys who couldn’t even spell “midterm” could end up looking like greek statues, surely you could handle a single gym session. you were smart, you were pretty. everything was going to be just fine. besides, you had watched enough fitness influencers on social media to have a vague idea of what to do. with a deep breath, you reminded yourself that everyone had to start somewhere – or at least that’s what your therapist had told you.

deciding to start your session with something familiar, you made your way over to the row of treadmills. incline walking was hard to mess up. the downside was that it made you feel like you were dying.

thirty minutes later, you were profoundly regretting your decision as you clung to the handrails, legs burning with exertion. sweat had beaded on your forehead, and you couldn’t help but curse under your breath.

with shaky legs, you made your way to the weights, steeling yourself against the familiar wave of self-doubt. this part of the gym was always crowded with an excess of men flaunting their egos, their grunts and posturing only serving to make you feel even more out of place.

you think of nesta and how she would never let anyone make her feel small. she would have your head if she thought you would let any man intimidate you.

deep breaths. everything is fine.

as you attempt to adjust the resistance on the leg press machine, your fingers fumble over the pin that holds the weight stack in place, causing the plates to clang noisily against each other. flushed and annoyed, you would love nothing more than to slink away in embarrassment.

“here, let me.” he crouches beside you and effortlessly rectifies your problem as if you hadn’t been struggling for the past ten minutes.

oh god, he looked like he could go viral on tiktok or be on the front cover of a fitness magazine.

and he was helping you.

stay calm. just ignore the fact that this might be the most beautiful man you’ve ever met.

you couldn’t help but steal glances at the way his muscles flexed beneath the fabric of his black compression shirt, each movement highlighting the definition of his arms and chest.

he was so pretty. you just hoped you didn’t look like you were dying.

“thanks,” you say, your voice coming out a little more breathless than you intended.

oh god, just breathe.

he flashes you a soft smile, “no problem. we’ve all been there.”

you’d like to say you committed to a gym membership for self-improvement.

(you would be lying.)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

before ever stepping foot in a gym, your taste in men was somewhat predictable.

you liked nerdy computer science guys you could play video games with and pretentious english lit students who gave you good book recommendations – the indoor sort.

they all tended to look like a light breeze could push them over. not the kind where you could steal their hoodies. and that was fine. you didn’t care, honest.

but then the cute guy at the gym completely ruined your usual type in men. you never imagined you’d be that into muscles, but he looked like he could toss you around like a rag doll, and you soon realised that you actually quite liked the thought.

you initially thought your crush would be harmless – glancing at him from across the room and playing out scenarios in your head.

but then he started offering to unload your plates, and showed you how different machines worked when you looked particularly confused. he would ask you to spot him, despite you both knowing you would be of zero help, and would refill your water bottle when he noticed it getting low.

he would even help to correct your form so you wouldn’t injure yourself.

that, however, had you so flustered you couldn’t even complete the full set. his hand grazing your waist made your heart pound so loudly, you were certain he could hear it. you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

you told him you had to leave early to finish your essay.

and then, like the gentleman he was, he had asked you about it the next time he saw you, and let you ramble about your major for far too long. the worst part was that he seemed genuinely interested.

you didn’t even know his name and yet you were pretty sure you wanted to have his babies.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“are you sure you really need protein powder?” elain questioned, picking up a bunch of celery for her green juices. “you can get all the vitamins and minerals you need from real food, you know.”

“but it’s so much easier to hit my protein goals with it,” you whined, clutching the tub of powder defensively.

“she’s only doing this because her crush drinks the same brand,” nesta teased, a sly grin spreading across her face as she tossed a box of granola into the cart.

“oh my god, keep your voice down,” you groaned, glancing around nervously. it was 10 pm on a wednesday. the grocery store was practically deserted, but you think you might cry if anyone overhears. “besides, it’s not just because of him. it’s practical!”

“practical,” nesta repeated, her grin widening. “sure, that’s the reason.”

“what’s his name again?" elain said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“i hate you,” you muttered, feeling your cheeks heat up. you tried to focus on the nutrition label in front of you, but nesta’s laughter made it impossible.

“come on,” nesta said, nudging you playfully. “you’ve been pining over him for months. when are you going to actually talk to him?”

“never?”

“you should accidentally bump into him and spill your protein shake all over his expensive gym clothes. it would be a brilliant conversation starter.”

“please don’t jinx me.”

“oh, and then you could do his laundry as an apology, and he’d buy you a coffee because he thinks you’re pretty!” elain chimes in.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

you’ve been working out long enough now that you knew the basics of gym etiquette. namely, don’t be creepy. a simple thing, really, but too many people struggled to act like sane, well-adjusted human beings capable of basic manners. it was as if the gym was some bizarre alternate universe where leggings made men’s brains short-circuit.

so you try very hard to not stare at your gym crush doing pull-ups.

but his biceps are flexing, his shirt is riding up, and you never knew you could be so attracted to someone’s back.

you feel like you’re twelve again – you want to write his name in a heart in your diary and talk about him for hours on the phone.

for the first time, however, you’re grateful you don’t know any concrete details about him. you would’ve stalked his social media, found out he had a girlfriend or horrible political opinions, and then cried yourself to sleep.

you’d really rather not know. hopeless yearning is much more to your taste.

but then he notices you across the room and smiles, and you realise your gym crush is very much not harmless.

you decide that you’ll be brave and actually initiate conversation for once.

a horrible idea, really.

“hey.”

“hey,” he responds.

“what are you listening to?” god, you didn’t think you were this awkward.

“oh, i don’t listen to music when i work out.”

“right, yeah, i totally get that.” you actually don’t understand that at all. the idea of exercising with just your thoughts sounds like a special kind of torture, but he doesn’t need to know that.

you fidget with the hem of your shorts, desperately searching for something else to say.

“so, uh, how’s your workout going?” he asks.

“it’s going okay,” you reply, the words tumbling out. “you?”

you want to disappear.

“yeah, it’s good too.” you swear you see a hint of pink in his cheeks, though it’s probably just from finishing his set.

your mind is blank and you have no idea what else to say. “great.”

you hope you look like you’re smiling and not grimacing.

this was quite possibly the worst idea you’ve ever had. you’re never speaking to a man again.

even if they are very pretty and look like they could pick you up without breaking a sweat.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

getting ready with three other girls in a cramped apartment was always a challenge. you loved your sisters, but if feyre didn’t get away from the mirror, you would scream.

feyre, always meticulous with her makeup, was painstakingly perfecting her eyeliner, ignoring the sighs from nesta.

“can you possibly move any slower?” nesta hisses, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms.

you exchange a knowing look with elain, who was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, scrolling through her phone. she had opted to stay behind, and you were growing increasingly jealous of her decision.

“why don’t we just take turns?” you intervene, hoping to avoid a fight before you even got to the party. “feyre, you finish up, then nesta, and i’ll go last. sound fair?”

feyre finally steps away from the bathroom and nesta wastes no time in taking her place, muttering something about how she could do a better job in half the time.

feyre had been persistent about attending one of rhysand’s house parties for weeks now, and despite your and nesta’s reluctance, she had managed to wear you down. it wasn’t so much her persuasive arguments as it was the promise of free alcohol that ultimately swayed both of you. plus, you were a little curious. feyre had been gushing about her boyfriend for months now.

as you stood in front of the mirror, giving yourself a final once-over, you couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. feyre, radiant in her navy dress, was practically buzzing with excitement. nesta looked as though she’d rather be doing anything else, despite begrudgingly admitting that the three of you looked good.

you had opted for a short, tight-fitted black dress. shocking how regularly going to the gym could actually help your confidence.

feyre led the way, practically dragging you and nesta out of the apartment. elain, now comfortably nestled on the couch with a book, waved you goodbye. “be safe, and don’t drink too much!”

“it’s so cute that you think i could survive the night without being drunk,” nesta laughs.

the cool night air is a welcome change from the stuffy apartment as the three of you step outside to wait for the cab. feyre was already chattering about rhysand and his friends, while nesta had shot her a look that could wither plants.

you really needed a drink.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

rhysand’s apartment ended up being a thirty-minute drive away, nestled in the wealthier district of velaris, and you could see why feyre spent so much time here.

you could hear the music before you even enter, and it smells so strongly of alcohol you already feel a little lightheaded.

it can hardly be called an apartment in all honesty, it’s nicer than most houses and certainly surpasses anything you’ve ever stepped foot in before. it’s spacious, with an open layout that flows effortlessly from one room to the next. plush couches and chairs face a glass coffee table that is currently covered in red plastic cups and half-finished bottles of vodka. luckily, all his furniture was black. you winced at the thought of cleaning the stains that were bound to appear after tonight.

you noticed the floor-to-ceiling windows offering a pretty view of the city skyline, the twinkling lights stretching out like a blanket of stars against the night. you weren’t the jealous type, but you had the sudden urge to strangle feyre.

she had navigated the apartment with ease, her eyes alight with familiarity as she disappeared in search of rhysand. left to fend for yourselves, you and nesta exchanged a glance before setting off in the direction of the kitchen.

as you weave through the throng of people, you catch sight of mor, effortlessly manoeuvring between guests as she pours drinks. she seems completely at ease, flashing dazzling smiles and looking stunning as ever.

mor’s eyes light up with recognition as she spots you among the crowd. with a beckoning gesture, she calls you over. “i didn’t think you two would be here!” she seems genuinely happy to see you, despite only talking to her after class a couple of times.

“our sister is dating the host, so naturally, we’ve been dragged along,” you reply. “she’s off hunting him down now.”

mor’s gaze shifts between you and nesta, realisation crossing her features. “rhysand is actually my cousin,” she explains with a smile. “so, i’ve met feyre a few times now.”

“that’s unfortunate,” nesta laughs. you’re pretty sure she’s only half-joking.

you elbow her. “come on, don’t be mean. i don’t want to be kicked out after five minutes of being here.”

“are you sure? we could go get pizza and ice cream and not wake up feeling like we were hit by a car?”

“are you seriously the voice of reason right now?”

“hey, if you’re going to the gym, then i can be a responsible adult.”

mor perks up, her eyes brightening with interest. “you work out?”

you smile sheepishly, “i only started a few months ago.”

“you should join me sometime!” mor suggests eagerly. “i usually go with rhysand and a few others, but one of them hasn’t shown up in ages. it’d be great to have another girl!”

“speaking of which, i should introduce you to them,” mor adds with a grin before calling out, “azriel! cassian! get over here!”

and then you spot who is walking over.

“mor, what’s up?” a very familiar voice asks.

because, you realise, it’s your gym crush. it’s the guy you’ve been pining over for months.

your brain is really struggling to comprehend that he’s here, and he knows mor, and apparently rhysand?

has he met feyre too?

he’s wearing all black, like usual, and his biceps look even better in this lighting, and oh god, you want to melt into the ground before you somehow think of a new way to embarrass yourself.

your mind is racing a hundred miles per hour and you’re suddenly realising you’re going to have to avoid feyre’s boyfriend forever if he’s friends with him and –

and as your eyes meet his, and realisation flickers across his features, you’re really wishing you had stayed at home with elain.

or vanish into thin air. that works too.

“az, these are feyre’s sisters!” mor’s voice breaks through your thoughts.

you’ve finally learnt his name, you suppose, but you’re pretty sure you’ll have to find a new gym.

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bluegekk0 · 8 months

Text

// The Cycle //

(au details below)

After his banishment from The Gods' Plane, Grimm is too weak to sustain his physical form indefinitely. As a result, his physical body is stuck in an endless cycle of death and rebirth, as its lifespan is limited and its powers are limited

The Nightmare King, and his physical body, Troupe Master Grimm, are the same being separated by the barrier between the physica world and his nightmare realm. They exist simultaneously, they share thoughts, memories and personality traits, although their physical appearance differs - the physical body is smaller, its body lacks the extensive fluff, and is more organic in nature. Within the nightmare realm and with the Nightmare Heart's power, Grimm has full control over the body's physical and physiological aspects, and so its appearance may change following each ritual if he so desires. However, each body withers away over time, and thus it must be replaced periodically. Unfortunately, with the Heart's limited power, the vessel must spawn in a reduced form and grow with the help of his troupe (or any volunteer). Collecting nightmare flame speeds up the process, as does the presence of the previous body, which then gets consumed by flame and replaced by the new vessel

---

Stage I ("Grimmspawn") - the vessel that spawns from the nightmare flame. It is small in size, but capable of flight. Its legs and arms are underdeveloped, and its body is covered in fluff. Its eyes are closed, and the head is similar in shape to a teardrop, as the horns are not separated in this stage

Stage II ("Grimmchild") - having absorbed nightmare flame, the vessel grows in size and its limbs develop. The headshape resembles that of the final form, although its body is noticeably more serpentine in shape, and its fluff covering is more sparse. Consuming more flame allows it to continue growing until it reaches its final stage

Stage III ("Troupe Master") - after the previous vessel is consumed by flame, another takes its place. This form is most commonly known as the Troupe Master Grimm, or simply just Grimm. Despite its status as a vessel, it stands equal with the Nightmare King - it is with this body that Grimm is able to interact with the physical world, and so this stage lasts the longest, up to a few months

However, in this form, Grimm requires blood in order to sustain his physiological functions for a longer period of time, as his heart and circulatory system are weak. Similarly, he rarely uses the full extent of his powers, as doing so weakens him and forces him to rest in order to regain his strength. Although he lacks the long tail and the wings of his previous stages, his cloak can move around and warp into different shapes, most commonly into tendrils and spikes

Despite his weak heart, Grimm's body functions as you'd expect - he is capable of consuming and digesting food, and even reproduction (though the body is usually designed to be infertile, as a preventive measure). Interestingly, he is unable to cry, likely due to the unnatural aspect of his eyes

Stage IV - if the ritual is delayed for whatever reason, Grimm's body starts showing noticeable signs of decay. He becomes physically weak, he gradually loses his voice, and he starts shedding fur from his limbs. The flame rages from within his body, and smoke escapes through his wounds. His eyes lose their scarlet color and start leaking, making him appear as if he's weeping. The body eventually burns down, and if this occurs outside of a ritual, the next vessel is unable to consume its flame, meaning it takes a much longer time to grow. Grimm rarely allows himself to reach this stage, preferring to replace the body while it is still in a functioning state, as it makes the entire process much smoother

#hollow knight #gekko.art #feral pk au #au character bios #hk grimm #troupe master grimm #nightmare king grimm #nkg #grimm #grimmchild

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reallyromealone · 2 months

Note

would you do a rindou x reader omegaverse nsfw one-shot? 😬😪

(Ignore if no)

Title: little Succubus

Fandom: Tokyo revengers

Characters: Rindō, reader insert

Fic type: nsfw, omegaverse,

Pairings: Rindō x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, omegaverse, demon au, succubus, smut, nsfw, Omega male reader, blood play, Dom and sub themes, spanking, Rindō calls reader names, Rindō is mean, praise, sweet words, reader doesn't feed off people because he's nervous

Notes:

🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

(Name) Was starving as he crawled up the large California King bed, a handsome alpha sleeping in no more than boxers as (name)sat on his lap, feeling the others large bulge "I'm sorry... I'm just so hungry" (name) always felt a sense of guilt when feeding, usually keeping it to kissing but he had been so busy with work and... Just a kiss..." (Name) Whispered as he gently cupped the man's strong jaws, his inner omega praising the very strong alpha, he could definitely provide...

(Name) Kissed so softly and sweetly as they tried to use their magic to make sure the Alpha just had a nice dream... Though it didn't work? Pulling away (name) opened his eyes to see that the Alpha was awake and staring smugly "a little rude don't you think?" Rindō said with a shit eating grin as he sat up, pulling (name) closer as the cute little demon looked flustered "I-I was only taking a bit of energy! You should be asleep! Why aren't you asleep!" He said flustered as he looked at the tattooed alpha... Wait those tattoos looked familiar.

Shit.

Large black bar wings spread out behind him, the high ceilings and large bed made sense now as (name) looked at the large horns on the Incubus' head as his eyes turned to a pure glowing shade of amethyst. A large tail snaked from behind him and coiled around (name)s smaller and cuter one "you haven't been eating, kisses are barely a midnight snack let alone a proper meal, idiot" Rindō sniffed at (name)s neck "you're so weak you can't even smell the difference of a demon and a human"

"I-i feel bad taking it that way..."

"You're a virgin" Rindō said in a moment of realization with a bigger grin than he thought possible as he pinned the other to the bed "a succubus Omega whose a virgin... Never thought I would see it" Rindō watched as (name) looked ready to explode with embarrassment "stop bullying me! " He shouted angrily as Rindō chuckled lowly "human raised... You have that innocence that humans have... A little half breed" Rindō sniffed out the human aspects of the other, he and his brother were pure demon choosing to live in the mortal world, operating a crime cindacate with fellow demons.

Before (name) could fire something back, Rindō grabbed him by his neck and kissed him, long tongue taking control as (name) let out a moan, slick already pouring from him and brain getting foggy.

When Rindō pulled away, he looked at his work as (name) looked fucked out from a kiss alone "feels good right? Getting energy from a demon tastes way better than some human" (name) nodded as pink pharamones leaked from him, like fog on a spring morning though it was something only demons could see, easier to tell who was more willing to fuck.

"You wanna be full, huh baby? A cute succubus like you going without a good fucking is just criminal" the Alpha tutted as he freed his cock from his boxers, if (name) was human-- well fully human --- that thing would have killed him. Thirteen inches and thick as a coke can, the demons knot barely expanded as he spread (name)s legs and rubbed up and down his thighs while looking at the others cute little shorts, (name)a succubus form consisting of tiny short shorts a tight crop top that was ripped apart by Rindō "wait!" (Name) Panicked as the Alpha looked primal but halted his hands "i-i don't know your name" (name) said worried and Rindō looked stunned before laughing, leaning up to kiss him "god you're cute, think I'm gonna keep you~" he chuckled as (name)s omega preened at the concept "the names Rindō, what's yours pretty?"

"(Name)...." The Omega whispered as his black wings fluttered at the compliments the Incubus spoke, he knew that lust demons were good with words and shouldn't be so easily affected but... It felt nice.

Rindō kissed down his chest, exposed and perky as his long tongue swirled around the nipple, mouth tearing open to reveal his sharper teeth and (name)s eyes slowly turned a hazy (color) as he took in the pleasure as Rindō looked smug at the others reaction as his hand moved to play with the others much smaller cock, giving a harsh tug as (name)s hips bucked up to chase the pleasure "you must be hungry, you're absorbing so much~" Rindō could feel the Omega drain his energy as his cute fangs grew sharper and his pharamones sweeter, thank god he had enough energy to run Tokyo for a year.

"Alpha ~!" (Name) Cried out as he clung to the other, Rindō pleased that the omegas already claiming him as his wrists made a feeble attempt at scent marking him "yeah? You want alpha, Omega?" Rindō chuckled as (name) nodded feverishly, he was so hungry...

Rindō could tell the other was losing himself to his instincts, Omegan and demonic which was a dangerous combo for any human but thankfully Rindō could take him easy as (name) crawled on him and pushed him down, nails clawing at Rindōs chest as he looked at the others tattoos hungrily "come on baby, take what you want from alpha~" Rindō cooed as he allowed his cute Omega to dominate him even just a little, when (name) wasn't starving he would put him in his place but he knew the cutie just needed a damn good meal.

(Name) Clawed at the others chest, seeing traces of blood before licking up the lines with a moan and sitting up to see the others cock and a wave of nervousness washed over him and Rindō tutted "getting ahead of yourself baby, want alpha to help you?" His voice condescending as his hands groped the others ass cheeks "silly little Omegas need help, especially naughty ones who starve themselves for silly morals" Rindō couldn't help himself, throwing the concept of letting (name) do as he wanted out the window as his large hand swatted down at (name)s plump ass and watched him jolt with a moan.

A succubus didn't feel pain, neither did an Incubus... Anything would feel nothing short of pure pleasure.

"Humans couldn't give you what you need, huh? Needed an incubus cock to satisfy that hunger, a filthy little cock slut pretending to be something he's not" Rindōs words were venomous as he bit at (name)s scent gland and fingers went to the others ass, rubbing and teasing before pushing in and without warning he aggressively began fucking his fingers into the other.

Rindō watched as (name) threw his head back with a scream like moan, legs shaking as Rindō aggressive rubbed at his prostate and the poor Omega clawed and bit at the alphas shoulder and back, gutteral moans escaping his lips as an orgasm rolled through "you feel good baby?"

"Full...." (Name) Mumbled as Rindōs fingers left his gaping ass only to replace it with something far better "well better stuff you good for good measure!" Rindō plunged his cock in, a sadistic grin as (name) took him body shaking and convulsing as the poor thing struggled to process and adjust to his cock, maybe he was too much for the succubus.

Then he saw the others eyes, cute heart rings glowing "you wanna feel real good baby?" Rindō mumbled into his ear and (name) nodded frantically at the idea of feeling even better as Rindō placed a hand on his abdomen and began thrusting, mumbling enxantations as a womb tattoo graced the omegas stomach, increasing his pleasure ten fold and watching as (name) began cumming uncontrollably.

Rindōs thrusts were hard and aggressive as his thighs slapped (name)a ass cheeks and his large wings entrapped (name) nice and close to him as the two kissed sloppily, orgasm after orgasm escaping the poor succubus as the two fed off one another, the poor Omega practically putty in his arms as he let the other fuck him stupid.

"Wanna be mine, pretty? Be mine forever? Only feed off me?" Rindō asked teasingly and (name) bared his neck, surprising the other a bit but grinned none the less as he bit into his neck, venom flowing into (name) as his knot caught and cum began pouring into the other, poor (name) barely conscious.

"Good boy... Nice and full now? Don't worry... Alpha will keep you well fed every day, keep you do nice on my cock" his omega would be his and his alone, he would remove any silly thoughts out of his pretty head and (name) would belong to him and bare his spawn.

It would be perfect.

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers fluff #male reader #bonten x reader #omegaverse #omega male reader #x male reader #anime x male reader #anime x reader #smut #rindou x male reader #haitani rindou x reader

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deadsetobsessions · 3 months

Note

As the girl who came up with the Triplet! Tim AU PLEASSEEEEE continue it!!!!! I NEED to see Bruce who thought he had one robin finding out he actually has three separate completely different ones

I gotchu lmfao I think I’ll get to Bruce later? I’m really happy you liked it omg like that idea is so good

——

Their plan was perfect! It would have been perfect, had it not been for Dick Grayson and his nosy face!

Batman might not have known his identity, but Dick Grayson did. He promised to keep it from Batman, but Tim hadn’t exactly thought about his secret identity when he showed up to harass the man into being Robin again.

And now, they’re paying for it.

Tim leaned back and crossed his arms as he watched Dick cradle his head in his hands, looking half a short breath away from a mental breakdown.

“Are you telling me… there’s three of you?”

“Yes, Dick.” Tim sighed, having answered this exact question ten times in the past two minutes.

Dick lifted his head, wide eyes looking a little feverish… no, looking a little manic.

“Tim. Your name is Tim, right? I’m not-”

“Yes, my name is Tim. Technically, so are the others. But the one here with us is Lionel.”

“No, wait, Tim, you understand how this is- insane, right? It’s not even remotely in the realm of mentally healthy.” Dick paused. “Wait, are you skipping school right now?!?”

“Has anyone ever told you your priorities are screwed up, Dick?” Lionel-Tim walked back into the room, hands full of snacks and, most importantly, Dick’s emergency marshmallow bag. Dick turned to Lionel, eyes full of guilt, and grabbed the bag of marshmallows like a dehydrated man in the middle of a desert who’s only couple of feet away from an oasis that he’s been looking for for days.

“Oh my god. I’ve had three younger brothers and I thought they were all the same kid!” Dick wailed, grabbing a handful of marshmallows and stress cramming it into his mouth. Tim threw him a disgusted look.

“To be fair, we made sure to train to act like each other from a really early age,” Tim said, snatching the bag of chips that Lionel chucked at his head. His snack laden triplet plonked himself on the plush spinning chair, shoving a hand inside the bag of gummy worms and cramming it down his throat as he spun around.

“I can’t believe I’ve never even checked up on you at your place!! If I did, I would have noticed it way earlier!”

“Probably not,” Lionel mumbled through his mouthful of colorful gummy worms. “You only caught us because Tim got beat half to death by an edgy crime lord teenager.”

Dick hunched into himself, a myriad of complicated emotions- largely, guilt and fury and heartbreak- wormed its way past his face. Tim glared and threw a chip at his triplet.

“It’s fine, Dick. Lionel’s just being an asshole. We’re taking care of it. Revenge prank.” Tim explained.

“He wouldn’t have caught us and you know it.” Lionel grumbled.

“I’ll help.” Dick mumbled dejectedly.

“You’ll have to get in line, Wing,” Tim went back to his laptop. “My thirds got first dibs, and I’m not planning on staying still either. I’m gonna mess with Jason’s slush funds.”

“He’s got a stash of cash locked up in the fourth safe house, but that’s not interesting. Look!” Lionel proudly displayed a duffle bag- from where he got it from, Dick had no clue- and unzipped it to show batteries, lightbulbs, and random bits and bobs.

“What is that?” Dick asked.

“That’s the second lightbulb in his bathroom light! This is the left battery in his TV remote! And this is half of his back up boot laces. I took all of his 10 mm sockets! And the specialized socket he got for his bike! And this,” Lionel grinned, lifting up a piece of fabric. “Is his pillow case!”

“Niceee.” Tim whistled. He tossed a piece of tech at Lionel. “Sneak back into his house and put that in between his pillows. It’ll keep both sides uncomfortably warm.”

“Fuck yeah!”

“Is… this revenge for almost killing you?” Dick asked.

“It’s either this or complete and total financial ruin, social death, and then actual death.” Tim tapped away at his laptop.

“You’re kind of scary, you know that?”

“We know!” Lionel chirped.

“Base, come in.”

“Base,” Tim quickly replied, laser focused on Archy’s call. Lionel and Dick quieted.

“Hood’s lurking outside the school like a creep,” Archy muttered into the comm, papers rustling behind him.

Dick tensed, upset making itself visible once more.

“You still have the container I gave you this morning in your pocket?”

“Yes.”

Tim smirked in a way that made Dick suddenly have a horrible need to shake and lecture him on the moralities of not becoming a villain. “It’s glitter. Purple and pinks.”

“…Ah.”

“Godspeed, Archy!” Lionel chirped again, sounding slightly more demented.

A moment of silence before-

“Oof!” A puff. “Oh, no! I’m so sorry, mister!”

On the other end of the comm, the gruff voice of a beefy teenager spluttered, “What- why do you- egh- my mouth! The glitter went into- pleh, pleh! What the fuck, kid?!”

“I’m so sorry! It was supposed to be for a project! I worked so hard to mix the colors right! Wait, stay still, mister! I’ll help!”

Archy, eyes wide and innocent, patted some more glitter onto the vigilante.

“No, stop! Stop! You’re getting it on my bike!”

“It’s a pretty color- oh hey, this is open-”

“No! That’s the fuel tank!”

“Oh! Whoops! Sorry!”

As chaos spread on the other side of the comms, Tim and Lionel burst into cackles. Dick choked on the marshmallows, helplessly shaking with laughter.

Lionel whacked at Dick’s back, hysterically giggling.

“That’s- that’s Archy?”

“Archy pretending to be Lionel pretending to be me yeah. I hope he got glitter in the fuel tank.” Tim grinned.

“Want me to patrol tonight to see if he got the glitter out of his bike?”

Lionel jabbed his pointy elbows onto Dick’s shoulders. “Absolutely. Distract him, too! I gotta mess with his safe houses. He’ll never feel comfortable in a safe house ever again.”

“Don’t go overboard, Lionel.” Tim looked up. “But also, I changed his WiFi passwords to 123456, so do with that what you will.”

Lionel grinned. Dick mustered up a smile in response, pushing the guilt away. He had a lot to make up to his little brothers, and if terrorizing Jason was how he was going to accomplish that… well, Dick’s not feeling too nice about Jason right now.

——

Batman squinted suspiciously at a humming Nightwing.

“Something happen?” He managed to ask.

“Hm? Oh, no, I got some nice pictures.”

“…I see.”

Batman, regardless of what his history might suggest, knew how to pick his battles. This? This thing that brought Nightwing’s murder smile? This was one battle he was willing to walk away from.

“Hey, B, you ever think about adopting more kids?”

Batman choked and promptly grappled away. Nightwing cackled.

“You can’t escape the question!”

Batman ran faster.

#Batman #nightwing: maybe i can adopt this time #nightwing being nightwing #nightwing #tim drake is a triplet au #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Jason getting effectively glitterbombed

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myuminji · 1 year

Text

Just a comic about two people catching up again [Angel AU]

[ID: A Trigun comic of Wolfwood after his death in Trigun Maximum.

Abbreviated ID: Wolfwood is now an angel with wings and a halo tied to his grave. He cannot be seen or heard by others, but Livio visited his grave and mostly filled him in on the finale, and Wolfwood waits for Vash to show up. When he does, Wolfwood is stunned and worried by his black hair, though he deems Vash fine when he pulls out drinks for them both.

Vash pours the drinks and talks. He confesses that he killed someone and calls himself a coward and the worst, apologizing for being selfish and not saving Wolfwood. Wolfwood angrily shouts that everything was his decision, and Vash is an idiot for blaming himself.

He says that Vash has done so much for Wolfwood and for others, and he calls Vash brave. Vash falls asleep with tears in his eyes, but he seems lighter when he wakes up. Vash leaves, promising to return, and Wolfwood says that he'll "watch him from afar... again." The title is "#1 'What happened to your hair?'". Full ID below readmore in 21 paragraphs.

The comic starts with a dark, noise-filter panel of the Punisher being used as Wolfwood's gravestone, with the quote "Nicholas D. Wolfwood has died" written over it.

Below that is Wolfwood, who has wings and a halo. He sits pensively and narrates, "At least, that's what everyone has come to believe, including me. Yet here I am, still roaming on this damn barren planet... But I wouldn't say I'm quite alive anymore. Since I couldn't feel hunger or thirst like I used to." He thinks, "'Ghost,' like those horror stories was it?"

He narrates over sketchy panels of himself frowning while floating next to his grave and yelling at Livio. "There, are other things I found that fits the term, like how I can't bring myself to far too far from my grave, or how others can't see me at all." We see Livio tearing up and saying "Nico-nii..." while Wolfwood furiously waves his arms and shouts, "I am!! Here!!!!"

Livio is shown speaking with a teary smile while Wolfwood leans against Punisher and listens. Wolfwood says, "Livio is the first and only person I've met so far. And luckily, he was quite a storyteller. I was able to get a grasp of the situation, and its aftermath. And what happened to him in the end."

Livio smiles and says, "It's been three months ever since... But even if we couldn't get ahold of him now, I'm sure he'll come back to you someday." Wolfwood narrates, "—And knowing that idiot, he probably would."

A close-up of Vash's coat in the wind as Wolfwood narrates, "So it didn't come as a surprise to me when he visited my grave. I'd even thought up of things to say when we meet again. Everything was thrown out of the window when he appears, of course. I could vividly remember the one question that burns in my head..."

Wolfwood looks shocked as Vash, hair fully black, waves cheerfully, "Yo! It's been a while, hasn't it? Wolfwood." Below the two floats the question: "#1 'What happened to your hair?'"

Wolfwood sweats, "Spikey, your hair. Doesn't it mean... Are you okay???" Vash smiles sheepishly, "Ah, I hope you're not mad I didn't come sooner, don't haunt me please..." Wolfwood shouts, "That's not the problem right now!!" Vash pulls something out and exclaims, "But look what I got for you!! Alcohol!!!" Wolfwood shouts, "What sort of person do you see me as!?"

Vash excitedly pulls out a bottle and two shot glasses. "It's not the only reason why I'm late, but it did took me a month to hunt this down... I recall you said you wanted to try them, right?" Wolfwood buries his face in his hands and says, "Where the hell are your priorities... You know what, yeah. I'm not gonna ask anymore since you look fine."

Vash smiles a bit tiredly and says, "Hmm,, I'm glad this place hasn't turn to ruins yet~ I've still got lots I need to tell you that's happened out there! And I thought it's better to talk about it with drinks on the side…" He clinks two glasses together. "So, cheers! ..."

He and Wolfwood are both awkwardly silent, and Vash sweats and frowns nervously. Then he pours a glass onto the ground, and Wolfwood furiously shouts, "D'ya really expect me to drink off the ground!? Stupid needle noggin!!!!!"

Vash laughs sheepishly, and he speaks via empty speech bubbles while Wolfwood listens, drinking with a small smile. Vash says, "... And when that happened I..." He drops his gaze and says between long pauses, "I..... When that happened......" Wolfwood watches him seriously as he says, "... Say. Wolfwood, is this how you've felt all the time?"

Vash looks down sadly. "You I see, I... killed someone in the end." He laughs, eyebrows drawn in. "I guess you're right. I am bound to choose someday." He takes another sip, then downs it and falls backwards. "Isn't it funny? That I've called you a coward once for killing... But guess who's the coward now~? It's always been me, isn't it?"

Vash lies on his back and laughs. "... Haha. I wonder if you're laughing too. I really am the worst, aren't I?" Wolfwood looks down as Vash continues, "You've done so much for me, but all I've caused you are troubles. I was selfish, always chasing after my own goals... That you couldn't ask for my help. That I couldn't save you. Just what kind of friend am I?"

Vash scrubs his eyes with an arm and says shakily, "Sorry... Wolfwood... I'm so sorry..." A close-up panel of his mouth shows Wolfwood saying, "... Just so you know--" Expression unimpressed, he exclaims, "There's no way in hell I'm accepting that lousy apology! You drunkard!"

He stands up and seems to kick Vash, who's still on the ground and mostly out of sight. Wolfwood demands, "Why are you even sorry for something like that, huh?? I chose my own path. It was all my decision! How many times do I say it to get it stick in that thick head of yours? Stop. Blaming. Yourself. For the things. You've not done. Idiot! Stupid spikey hair!!"

Vash's face is cut off, but a tear in his eye can be seen as he weakly says, "... oof.. wood..." Wolfwood looks tired and sighs, "... Ha... Don't feel bad about me. Until when will you realise just how much you've done for us? You've done more than enough for me, Needle Noggin."

The perspective zooms out to focus on the sky and two moons, including the fifth moon. Wolfwood's wings and the Punisher can just be seen at the bottom. Wolfwood says, "And you're brave, to go against what you've been taught your whole life. You're not a coward. You faced them until the end. So don't sell yourself short like that next time, okay?" We see Vash's face, smiling with tears in his closed eyes. Wolfwood concludes: "I'll get mad."

Wolfwood narrates, "—He passed out right after for the whole night on the cold ground. I realised how little I could help in the situation." He tries to drape his coat over Vash, sweating, and wonders, "Wouldn't it just pass through ...?"

Time passes, and Vash gets up with a sneeze and rubs his eyes. Wolfwood watches him with his eyebrows raised, and Vash laughs quietly and a bit nervously. Wolfwood narrates, "As if he'd heard my voice, a burden seems to be lifted off his shoulder when he woke up. That, or maybe he'd forgotten what happened last night. He was quick to take his leave right after.

"And so, Vash the Stampede went on a journey with a promise." Vash waves goodbye, turning to leave with his bag in hand. "I'll be sure to bring back more stuff next time!! See you later!" Wolfwood concludes, "While I watch him from afar... again." Wolfwood sits below the Punisher and waves back, saying with bemusement, "Has he never heard the phrase 'do not disturb the death?' He really throws me off..." The title is named, and it says "/ END." End ID]

[link to Image ID reblog post!]

#''if you can't go to see the world I'll bring the world to you instead'' post trimax vash who often comes back to ww bringing things he foun #and it piles up. alot.#i have up to 8 chp of these tho idt i can draw them all haha #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #trigun #trigun maximum #trimax spoilers #trigun maximum spoilers #vashwood #centric #/p

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bookwyrminspiration · 2 years

Text

Shattered Upside Down

A kotlc wings au: masterpost here

Chapter 40: Half a Secret

word count: 9.3k

chapter summary: Now that Sophie and her friends have finally solved the riddle, they discover a secret that changes everything they thought they knew about their history.

warnings: ethnic cleansing (in the past), that's the main thing

taglist: @cosmogyral-cleo @axels-corner @cadence-talle @ahecktonoffandomsinoneblog @milesspidermanmorales @loverofallthingssmart @cowboypossume @jolieharkness @wings-of-hell-and-beyond @shellyseashell @blossomjenniie @akotlcblog @imaramennoodle @panic-at-the-multi-fandom-chaos @dragonwinnie-kotlc @solreefs @fintan-pyren @jazzanddaydreams @xanadaus @sa-divine

-> ao3 link here or read below

Being alive comes with an entire library, an archive of odd and mismatched experiences filed away into what makes you you, things that come into your life in passing and fade away, only yours for a moment as it leaves an impression unforgettable, as it changes you as though it hasn’t.

It’s never-ending, a story told until the end of time. The unique, unfathomable experience of being human.

Or…whatever Sophie was now.

A collection of experiences, perhaps, a story waiting to be told of all her triumphs, her defeats, the quiet moments she shared with no one.

Gentle warmth blossomed across her skin, comforting, familiar, and wrong.

Flinching, her eyes shot open, roving across the blurred colors before her, shimmering golden as her heart pounded. Gold gold gold, the colors fire, the brightness it burned, burning burning burning away behind her eyelids with searing heat tantalizingly close, a threat.

She blinked, and the motion reminded her that if she could blink, then her eyes were open; no crown of fire sat across her brow and held her captive beneath the earth, surrounded by monsters and a little girl stuck in the middle of an apocalypse, somehow wrapped up in the messiest pieces.

Phoenix.

The thought cleared her muddled panic, clear, cold dread dousing it all and turning her numb.

The gold wasn’t from any fire.

Well, the sun was, technically, on fire.

Golden sunlight washed through the room as her eyes focused, head still buzzing with the lulling lethargy of sleep, trying to pull her back into its clutches. She would’ve let it take her if she could’ve, years of insomnia teaching her to value sleep whenever it came.

But the jolt of adrenaline had pushed her too far into the waking world, making her overly conscious of the stiffness of her body, the lead in her bones, the stifling sweat sticking to her body, condensing in the feathers at the base of her wings.

Cursing her lack of curtains--because her window was broken, as the sun oh so loved to remind her--she groaned, rolling over, pushing herself onto her elbows, looking around.

Doing so brought the basket hidden in that corner by her bed into her line of sight, and everything in her went colder than that doused fire.

She hadn’t been back here since she’d learned what’d happened, hadn’t slept in this bed since she’d learned a gnome had written their last words here, gone to try and save a little girl whose name they didn’t even know.

Everything crashed into her consciousness in a flurry then, that her friends must’ve put her here because they didn’t know why she wanted to stay away and that they’d had to move her because she’d collapsed, and that she’d collapsed because she’d given Linh and Maruca every drop of energy her body could spare and then some, and that she’d had to give and give and give like she always had because the world was full of monsters and the seas weren’t an exception.

Atlantis.

Thudding against her ribs, the terror of the encounter swelled outward, encompassing her as she pressed her hands over her face; she hadn’t time to think about it in the moment, but now, all alone, living with the ghost of that gnome at her side, she couldn’t stop.

Her life was just one thing after the other, horror after horror, harrowing escape tumbling into each other like dominoes as she played with her life like a cat with a string, unraveling and pawing and tossing it around and watching it fray apart.

Just wait it out, she told herself as the panic rose and rose, trying to drown her; she’d been here before.

It’ll go away; just wait it out, she repeated, pressing her hands harder against her face, letting out deep, slow breaths, foot tapping against her leg beneath the covers.

So she waited, counting the seconds, breathing steadily, rocking back and forth, waiting for the terror to run its course. It was only an emotion after all, and those couldn’t last forever. She simply had to outlast them, however long it took.

As her heart began to calm, a knock sounded at the door; she scrunched her face up at the sound, wishing there was a quieter way to announce your presence.

The knocking sounded again, louder, as though worried she hadn’t heard.

She’d have to say something.

“Yeah?” she called out, wincing at the volume of her own voice in what had been absolute stillness. The crack, the roughness from terror held tight.

Creaking, the door swung open with hesitation, Dex poking his head in at the same snail pace, almost comically, her lips twitching towards a smile.

“Hello,” he said, glancing around. “Um. Can I come in?”

He was already halfway through the doorway, leaning to the side like in cartoons when the characters all piled on top of each other to peer around a corner, but she still nodded, deciding not to comment.

Pushing the door closed behind him, he kept looking away, instead finding other things to focus on.

“I’m…sorry to disturb you. I thought--you’d either be asleep or you’d be awake, not still in bed,” he finished feebly, flushing.

His awkwardness clicked in her head. “Oh. No, it’s fine. You’re not interrupting anything; I just haven’t moved yet.” He thought he’d butted himself into something private, but once she cleared it up the flush faded from his cheeks as he jumped up the step into her bedroom, leaning against the wall near the window. He’d taken off his wings and could do so more comfortably than anyone else could, without fear of tearing the structures.

“I wanted to check on you, make sure you’re alright. That Atlantis mission was no joke, I guess,” he frowned, kicking at the floor.

“If it helps, I also wish I could’ve brought all of you,” she offered, guessing at the meaning behind the words.

He started, then waved his hands around. “No I--I don’t mean to whine about it, you were all risking your lives and the rest of us wouldn’t have been able to do anything underwater, at least nothing that made it worth bringing us, I get it.”

Despite everything, she had to laugh.

“What are you laughing at,” he scowled, then shook himself off. “Sorry, you’re exhausted and I came to check on you, not be…like this,” he said, pressing his own hands to his face.

“You’re fine, Dex. It’s just funny to watch you sulk and pout--because that is what you were doing,” she added before he could protest. “And thank you--for checking on me. I’m…good.”

He made a face as she spoke, but it melted into concern as she finished. “Good? What’s good for the Lady Fos-boss?” he prodded.

She shrugged. “I’m not dead. No one else is dead. All my limbs are still attached--sorry,” she winced, remembering that not all of Dex’s limbs had decided to stay attached; that was a pretty significant reason they’d gone to Mysterium, so he could find the supplies he needed to make a prosthetic to supplant what would’ve been.

It was Dex’s turn to laugh at her, the sound melodic and rough as it lifted the veil clouding her thoughts.

“Not to distract from the conversation but…what day is it?” she asked, already itching and dreading getting everything done. She wanted this to be behind her, to be with her parents again, for the world to be safe.

“You slept through yesterday,” Dex offered.

“Through yesterday?”

Holding up his hands in a what do you want me to say? manner, he said, “What do you want me to say? You were tired! Maruca and Linh too--though neither of them collapsed like you did. Wylie told us what happened, and one of us has been checking in to make sure you’re still breathing every hour or so.”

Sophie stifled a groan, already dreading trying to reorient herself with that knowledge.

“Keefe wanted to draw on your face while you slept. We stopped him though,” Dex added.

“...thanks.”

They fell into silence for a moment before she asked. “What did I miss?”

Dex shifted, picking at the braided bracelet he still wore from the Forbidden Cities, pinching at the strands. “Honestly? Nothing. We’ve been waiting for you because you’re--I don’t know if you’ve noticed--kinda important. Biana told us her secret though, the one you apparently already knew. So now she’s been trying to figure out if she can like…read Linh’s dragons’ minds with colors, or something. I don’t really get it, but I thought you might since you’re the telepath, and Marella shared an update on her dragon too; I guess it’s healed now and is safe to move around again, but it’s eyes were permanently damaged, so she’s trying to figure out how to help it navigate without sight and is struggling with it. So Keefe tried walking around with his eyes closed to help through experience or something, and fell out of the village because he walked right off the bridges--it was hilarious. And I’m rambling, aren’t I,” he realized, pressing his lips firmly closed as he averted his eyes, hand cupping his neck.

Sophie would’ve been content to listen to him ramble all day, but the one thing that would beat that was seeing her family for herself, so she could be a part of all the fun they had when she’d forced them into inaction--her unfortunate tendency to overexert herself into unconsciousness had her missing out on the best bonding moments.

“I’m in bed after missions way too much,” she grumbled, throwing back the covers, shivering with the rush of cool air as she propelled herself out of bed, a completely avoidable headrush throwing her balance off as she stumbled a few steps, Dex exclaiming behind her as he grabbed her by the wrist, wrenching her back and away from the edge of the elevated area, where that step to the ground would’ve sent her tumbling.

Steadying her, he shook his head. “I’ll go get everyone,” he sighed, having saved her and correctly guessing what she wanted next; he always had that way of reading her, even when she tried to keep things to herself.

“Thanks.” There was no point being embarrassed over her near-faceplant. A lifetime of stumbling into tables, banging her arms on walls, and literally falling into chairs had given her more than enough experience dealing with it. It was just a part of her life at this point.

He hopped neatly down from the slight ledge, stumps of his wings flapping as though something was there.

Waving, he shut the door on his way out with a, “Thirty minutes. Campfire. Probably. Definitely. I’ll make sure they show up.”

She didn’t even have time to give him a thumbs up of acknowledgement before he was out, on his way to find the rest of their family and assemble them together for the meeting that should’ve happened already, had her body not decided differently.

Well. Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes to do…what?

As she turned to look around the room, a clump of tangled hair fell into her face; reaching back, she felt around, finding the hair tie from her tied hair still there, trying to hold the mess of it all together fruitlessly.

A shower would be a good place to start.

[Paragraph break]

BRRR, Echo said.

“Jesus Fucking Christ what--hello,” Sophie said back. She had a way with words.

Her hand clutched at her chest, wings spread behind her ready to take flight, stars winking in the void of their shape. She hadn’t spotted the little creature as she hurried out of the bathhouse, trying to shake the water from her hair so it would dry faster; she despised how wet hair felt lying against her neck.

But all thoughts of wet hair fled as she nearly stepped on the not-cat as it purred up at her, winding between her feet like it hadn’t forcibly taken a few centuries from her life.

“Lovely to see you again, but I don’t have time to explore monster communities or save trapped creatures--actually, I probably could make time for the second if it was an emergency, because I do care, but I have somewhere to be,” she rattled off, starting forward.

BRRR, Echo called again, following behind her, keeping pace on nimble paws as it trotted alongside her.

As she went, she pulled at the edges of the loose, flowing yellow top she’d grabbed from her stash; her skin hadn’t dried and everything was trying to stick to her, and she wouldn’t be able to focus on what anyone said if all she could feel was misaligned fabric and creases.

It hadn’t taken her the full thirty minutes to start feeling like herself, so theoretically she could mess around for a little while longer before joining everyone at the campsite, but she couldn’t shake the urge to go sooner, to jump into everything, to get things done.

Everything was finally, finally coming together; they couldn’t stop now, not when they were so close.

A few voices rang out up ahead, and as she got closer the trees growing up all around the village thinned enough that she could see them, Fitz and Marella in a heated debate about something, Linh occasionally chiming in, Tam sitting silent on the side staring off somewhere in the distance. She had the strangest sense he was trying to escape his body.

They stopped when they spotted her, waving as Marella called out, “She’s alive! The rumors are true after all.”

Sophie took the seat across from Tam when she got there, the space strangely empty without Wylie’s campfire of colored light brightening the space. She had half a mind to request a rainbow fire; something about the idea seemed fitting for their group.

“Hey,” was all she could think to say, looking around to see if anyone else was approaching; there was still time before it’d be officially thirty minutes, but she couldn’t help checking.

“How are you feeling?” Fitz asked, looking like he wanted to scrutinize every piece of her to make sure she’d come back intact.

She shrugged. “Tired. But I’ll be fine. What were you talking about?”

She really had to get out of the habit of walking in on people in the middle of their conversations; it was starting to alienate her from everything going on, but they’d never minded catching her up when she asked before.

This time was no different, and Marella immediately huffed, “I was trying to explain to Mr. Wonderboy that we’re not elves anymore, but he’s insistent on convincing himself we are.”

Linh cut in before Fitz could retort. “Friendly debate, we’re being friendly and cordial about all of this,” she assured, though she glared at both of them when she said it, as though keeping them in check, daring them to disagree.

“Extremely cordial,” Fitz agreed. “I was just saying that I think we still count as elves because adding something else doesn’t take away from what we originally were.”

“But it wasn’t just something added, everything we originally were changed,” Marella argued back. “We think different, we see different, we behave different. Being an elf isn’t a forever thing. It can change--though we didn’t know that at the time.”

“I disagree. We are our thoughts, right? And how we think changes as we learn and grow, but our parents learning and growing doesn’t make them any less elven, so change doesn’t automatically make us not elves. Just because we’ve been through something doesn’t mean our primary influence in who we are isn’t elven--or human, in Sophie’s case.”

Sophie shook her head as he gestured to her. “Uh-uh, don’t involve me in this, I just got here. How did--how did this even get brought up?” Her head spun trying to follow their logic, too anxious to admit that she herself didn’t know where she fell on each side of the argument.

Was she still an elf? She felt like an elf, at least she thought she did. Most of the time…

“I dunno, just got brought up while we were waiting,” Marella shrugged.

“It got brought up because Fitz started staring like a bird, as he does, and Linh made a joke about how un-elf-like it was. He got confused and said everything he does is still elven, and then he and Marella started debating,” Tam deadpanned, making not even a single movement as he outlined the sequence of events.

Silence.

“Ah, that’s right,” Fitz said.

They were saved from another awkward silence as Dex ran into the campsite, footsteps pounding against the hanging bridges and making them all sway.

“Thirty minutes,” he panted, out of breath, finding her in the group and pointing at her. “Great, you’re here. Wet, but here. Where’s everyone else?” he asked, turning around in circles a few times as if turning around again would make them magically materialize.

They all glanced at each other. “Weren’t you getting everyone?” she asked.

He made a face, groaned, and ran away, leaving the four of them alone around no campfire.

Someone shouted in the distance. Several someone’s shouted back.

Then, “SOPHIE! CONTROL YOUR CAT!”

“I--what?”

“YOUR CAT is holding them HOSTAGE,” Dex explained, yelling as he ran a little ways back in their direction so they could see him better, pointing off somewhere to the right.

Sophie didn’t have a cat, but she did have an Echo.

Glancing around her feet, she was surprised to discover that Echo wasn’t anywhere in sight; in fact, she hadn’t seen it since it’d started following her when she’d almost tripped over it.

She sighed, standing and making her way to where Dex was, who stood rigidly at attention, still pointing in that exact same direction.

Coming up to him, she paused. She looked between him and where he pointed and back. He didn’t move.

She nodded to herself, and followed his directions.

What had Echo gotten itself into?

Gazing into the distance with sight too-clear to be entirely elven, she saw Echo standing up ahead, sitting back on its haunches in front of an open door, gazing inside without a care.

Jogging to get there quicker, she didn’t realize why she’d been called in to “control her cat” until she got right up close.

Inside, just beyond the door frame, four of her friends stood watching the not-cat, the not-cat blocking the only exit out of the building.

Echo looked back at them.

“Get it--,” Maruca told her, making a shooing motion with her hand. Biana just stared at the not-cat, Keefe staring at her, Wylie with his head in his hands at the absurdity of it all.

Sophie couldn’t suppress the laugh that burst out of her. “Are you--did--seriously? None of you could just walk around it? This is where you draw the line?”

“Easy for you to say!” Maruca exclaimed. “Every time we try--” she stepped forward, and Echo let out a loud BRRR “--it does that! We’re trapped, Soph.”

Sophie sighed, though she couldn’t hide her grin, bending down to scoop Echo into her arms, the not-cat spreading terror and sowing chaos. In a cat-like fashion, it immediately decided it no longer had bones and it needed to become liquid in her arms, making it difficult for her to keep her grip, but she had plenty of experience with Marty and adapted deftly.

“I can’t believe you--come on,” she smiled, leading the way back to the center area, everyone behind her trailing behind, sufficiently mollified by their encounter with the glitchy creature Sophie’d come to think of as her own.

Rejoining the circle, everyone found their places, Fitz and Marella’s debate forgotten as the air heavied, the weight of what came next quieting. They were all painfully aware of the state of the world, of what was at stake.

Sophie was particularly aware that each day they didn’t do something was another day Phoenix the girl, was stuck with Phoenix, the organization. No matter how hastily made her promise was, she’d meant it with everything she was, and intended to carry it through to the very end.

It’d been hard enough getting thrown into this war when she was twelve, and Phoenix was even younger than that.

Whatever Murad wanted her for, whatever reason he kept her around, she’d stop him.

Whatever connection Fintan had with her, whatever influence he had over her, she’d get in his way.

“You have the cache, right?” Marella asked, looking at Dex, who had settled next to Sophie in the circle; while she’d been thinking, Wylie had conjured a campfire made of silently bursting spheres of light all melding together in oranges and pinks and whites, reminiscent of something she’d seen in the Forbidden Cities, though she didn’t want to distract herself trying to figure it out.

He nodded, pulling it from his pocket. “Right here. I haven’t tried to open it yet, but it feels really similar to the others I’ve tried to hack…which probably means that it will not be easy to get into.”

“Oralie showed me how to open one,” Sophie offered, realizing she may not have ever shared that with anyone else. All the talk of Elysium and Kenric’s confounding message had gotten swept to the side by Keefe’s new ability and the excursion he took they didn’t really mention.

“She did?” Sophie nodded, letting Echo escape her grasp with a BRRR. “But it’s not good news. That needed blood, sweat, and tears, and she said there was no way around that. We don’t even know whose cache that is, even if we could get them to agree to help us open it.”

They went silent.

“But this wasn’t a councillor’s cache,” Fitz said. “They keep those only accessible to themselves because they contain all those forbidden secrets. This one was in a library where people--well, certain people--could just access it how they wanted. I know it was apparently really hidden and the councillors themselves don’t even know what’s in it, but it wouldn’t make sense if only one person could open it; if it was something like that, then it would be in a safe or a museum or something, not a library. Libraries are for accessing information.”

Turning to stare at the cache-that-might-not-actually-be-a-cache, the question then became, “Well then how do we get to the information?”

Fitz shrugged, helpless, as Sophie looked at him. He’d just been reasoning--and very intelligently at that--but it didn’t solve the rest of the problem.

Wylie and Dex started talking, debating potential solutions, but Sophie tuned them and all the subsequent additions from the group out, furrowing her brow as she stared at the thing in Dex’s hands, as though with enough force she could pierce right through to the secrets within. Maybe she could intimidate it with her ferocious, uneven eyelashes; they’d certainly had an effect on Vertina.

Dots of twinkling crystal shone within the golden marble shape, each one winking at her as it reflected the morning sunlight, casting strange patterns of light onto Dex’s fingers and palm, fingerprints pressing to the smooth surface.

Oralie and Bronte had been the ones to send them on this wild chase, months worth of wonderings and sudden realizations in rooms filled with rotted history and impossibility in the wake of such unbelievable tragedy had led them to this.

To Foxfire, a place of infectious light.

To the Mentors’ Cafeteria, where history would have something sweet to say about her.

To Atlantis, where that history was kept.

To a cache, where secrets were held.

They’d completed the riddle--or at least, they almost had. All that was left was to learn those secrets.

Play a melody for me, and tell me what it says.

That was the only thing that didn’t fit, that they hadn’t figured out.

Mindlessly, Sophie let her fingers card through Echo’s fur, swirling along the glitched black and white colors, trailing along the patterns in its fur. She started tapping a rhythm into its skin, lightly, as though unconscious of the action.

Melodies? Why would Oralie be talking about melodies? It wasn’t like the Lost Cities were big on music; all the music she’d heard so far was gnomish, sung to her by Calla or Flori.

Melody.

She looked down at her fingers, the word on repeat in her head, and as she did so, Echo arched itself into the touch, rubbing against her in such a way that a shock of electricity zapped into her fingers. Static.

The feeling tugged at a memory, a memory she’d tried to bury; she’d tried to erase the feeling from her consciousness, escape the hurt, the betrayal, and the all-consuming humiliation of having the answer to all her questions right in front of her eyes for years without her knowing.

Even when Councillor Oralie had grabbed her by the wrists instead of the palms that day in her castle, set in the heart of Eternalia, it had still felt like electricity jolting through the two of them, shocking buzzes of energy draining from Sophie into her…into Oralie without restraint. She hadn’t learned control yet.

But that day she had, going through her abilities piece by piece, allowing herself to be honest about how they felt, until they’d gotten to her enhancing and she’d decided it felt restricting.

Then everything had clicked, a few glorious moments before her world had come crashing down in ways she hadn’t even had the time to think about.

But that wasn’t the part of the memory that had drawn her attention to it, it was the feeling, the way she’d turned her enhancing off, felt it flicker away.

She’d thought it felt like sliding her will across the string of a violin, a clear note ringing in her mind as she took control.

Hadn’t she often described the sensation as a note ringing through her, on and off.

She’d never told Oralie that, though, and yet…

“Can I see that?” she asked, mumbling, bumping her arm against Dex’s to get his attention.

He started, cutting off from whatever he’d been saying to Fitz, turning to her. “See wha--oh, this? Um. Sure, why?” He handed her the cache, dropping it into the center of her palm where it rolled around before settling in the center.

She furrowed her brows. “I…had an idea. But it’s probably a stretch so…”

“That means she’s definitely right,” Keefe said, nodding sagely, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he focused his attention on her. “I’ll bet everything I know about the Great Gulon Incident on it--though I obviously didn’t have anything to do with it. Any takers?”

“Obviously not,” Marella rolled her eyes. “We’re not gonna pick a losing battle.”

Sophie flushed, trying to tune them out as she picked the marble up between two fingers, glancing at Echo and sincerely wishing it actually worked. Nothing like a little pressure.

Exhaling, she slid her will across that violin string holding back all the energy buzzing through her, still recovering after the drain from Atlantis, letting the note ring out clear through her body, echoing through each bone, each artery, each vein, her fingers fluttering with the influx.

Sophie gasped, eyes widening as the marble grew warm in her hands, all the tiny specks of crystals in the cache glittering and pulsing, flickering in response to the downpour from her.

Without warning, they all flashed, everyone flinching back as multiple projections erupted from the cache, pointed out in all directions from the little marble in her hands, more than she’d ever thought them capable of holding.

Dropping the cache into her lap, she shoved her fingers in her ears, trying desperately to escape from the horrible cacophony of hundreds of projections just like the one she’d seen in Oralie’s cache playing over each other, all at the same time, and she wasn’t the only one.

Tam stared with a fury better suited for eternal torment at the projections, Biana vanishing out of sight as she pressed both hands over her ears, Maruca’s wings coming up around her like they could block the noise.

She’d unlocked the cache.

[Paragraph break]

It was, as always, Dex who saved the day.

Grimacing, he snatched the torturous little marble from her lap as Echo yowled and jumped away, squinting at it as he fiddled for a few moments, tapping and scraping his nails along the marble and swiping at the projections in the air until they’d faded, leaving only a ringing in their ears as everyone lowered their hands, Biana reappearing, Echo BRRRing with great annoyance from a nearby tree.

“I am….so sorry,” Sophie said to break the now-deafening silence, keeping her hands close to her chest; just turning off her enhancing didn’t feel like enough. She needed physical space between her energy and that accursed little thing.

“Did anyone understand any of that?” Linh asked, playing with the silver edges of her hair as she peered at the marble. “Because I think my brain stopped working.”

Everyone shook their heads no, but Wylie remained strangely immobile, still staring at where the projections had been, as though he could still see them.

Maruca nudged him, noticing. “What are you thinking?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing. I just…what did you do?” he asked Sophie, who explained that it’d been just a neat enhancing trick. “So…energy. Your energy set it off, but it accessed every single thing stored in the cache--there has to be a way to narrow that down.”

“The councillor’s cache needed passwords,” Dex offered. “Maybe this needs something like that too, like you need to be thinking of something specific or say something out loud to access specifically what you want. And instead Sophie overrode the system and accessed everything at once. I bet now it would work normally since it’s unlocked.”

“What passwords or key words, though?” Fitz asked.

“How am I supposed to know? I wasn’t even the one to unlock it.”

Maruca leaned forward. “It’s unlocked right now, right?”

Dex nodded, holding the cache forward so everyone could see the gleam over the scattered crystals suspended in the glass marble; they burned as though lit from the inside, a tiny glow in each creating a night sky held in the palm of a hand, just waiting waiting waiting to spill its secrets to whoever could listen.

“Phoenix,” she said, as though giving a direction.

A single projection popped up, a disembodied voice beginning to speak about some incident with a Phoenix in a Forbidden City, an image of the creature in question displayed side by side of a video of a raging fire somewhere near a volcano, a volcano with a village at its base.

Dex paused the projection, shaking his head. “The cache isn’t gonna know who Phoenix is; we didn’t even know they had a name until a few weeks ago. We’ll have to use different keywords. But at least we know how it works now,” he added as an afterthought. The year read 79 C.E.

“Experimentation,” Fitz tried, getting results on something to do with a new plant species gnomes had synthesized that’d gone awry, but the elves had helped control when more hands and specific abilities were needed.

Tam tried “Monsters,” but only found two results talking about the Loch Ness Monster and Bigfoot, respectively. It seemed to have something to do with undercover efforts to capture the two of them so they stopped showing up in the human world and rumors.

On and on they went, trying Fintan Pyren and Organization and Inhuman and Phoenix, but like the little girl, are you sure Monsters isn’t right, and Murad, and just give us the thing, dammit!

It was well into the afternoon by the time Sophie had given up--temporarily, she reminded herself. This was a temporary defeat; they’d figure this out. Hopefully sooner rather than later, but she couldn’t keep justifying looking into the stupid riddle she’d finally solved after what felt like a year and five weeks of dragging it along.

There were people who needed her, people who needed someone, and a world that needed someone to step up and claim the challenge of setting it right. No one else was going to do it.

Biana, Maruca, Marella, and Linh crowded around a paper where they brainstormed more potential keywords, but she couldn’t bring herself to join them just yet.

“You’re chewing over some problem in your head, aren’t you,” Keefe whispered to her, having incredibly unsubtly scooted over on his butt inch by inch to get closer. They’d all pretended not to notice.

Sophie shrugged. “I have a lot of problems.”

“If only I knew what that was like,” he raised a brow. “So spill. What’s on the Mysterious Miss F’s mind that troubles her so?”

Hesitating a moment, she let her fingers brush through Echo’s fur to stall for time; pets were great for that, even though Echo wasn’t a pet. “I…was trying to figure out how we could get to the Main Facility,” she confessed, cheeks heating as his eyebrows skyrocketed, though he said nothing. “Here’s the thing, we didn’t actually find it, and it was Flori who brought us there--and she brought us underground, so I can’t teleport us in. And it could be anywhere in the world, just like wherever we’re living right now. Who knows what forest we’re in the middle of! So if we don’t have the location I can’t bring us there, but we need to get there so we can finish what we started, and hopefully they’ll have their other locations listed there so that I can figure out where they took me that other time, because I think that’s where Phoenix stays, and that way I can get her out.”

Keefe made a face somewhere between a frown and deep thought, running his tongue over his teeth as he looked off somewhere. “Yeah, that is a problem. Do you think my…my monster would know where it was?”

“Oh! Maybe. I mean, that was one of their facilities before they…completely lost control, to put it nicely. They might know where each other are, that way we can either leap there or if there are pictures, I can teleport us in--but like, in a sneaky way.”

“Really? You think all this has no impact on who we are?” Marella asked, laughing alongside it loud enough that she drew both Sophie and Keefe’s attention.

Fitz waved his arms about. “That’s not what I’m saying! You’re putting words in my mouth,” he accused. “I’m saying that the wings don’t have an impact on how elven we are! Of course they’ve had an impact on who we are, just not that part.”

Tam noticed the attention they’d drawn and shared a look with her.

They’re at it again, his voice whispered into the mindbubble, but he kept it away from the two of them. I vote we push them off the balconies.

I’ll tackle Fitz, Keefe offered, making a few over-the-top stretching moves as though he really were preparing to tackle his best friend out of a tree-house village.

Biana hid a smile in her hands. Get his ass.

“Okay, just, hang on--hang on,” Fitz said, completely oblivious to the plan forming around him. “We’re still elves, it’s our minds that have been opened and changed, there’s a difference.”

Marella rolled her eyes fondly, finding the argument more entertaining for the both of them than anything. “If we’re still elves, but also have been changed, then what does that make us? Half-elves?”

“No, that’s not--” he cut off, interrupted.

They all were, Dex’s near-silent gasp ringing out alongside Sophie’s as the cache sparkled, pulsing with the energy that’d brought it to chaotic life, one shard of crystal brighter than the others.

A single projection was suspended above the cache, though no noise came through.

They’d triggered the cache by accident.

And it had responded.

To the phrase half-elves.

[Paragraph break]

“Did that just--” Keefe asked, starting at the cache settled nicely in Dex’s palm, all thought of tackling Fitz off the village abandoned. “Anyone else confused?”

All eyes followed Dex as he tapped at the single projection displayed above it, eyes widening as it exploded into dozens upon dozens of them, multiplying and surrounding him like he was the center of the universe, or l a character in some stupid sci-fi movie she’d watched with her human family.

“Half-elves?” he whispered to himself, looking between all the different projections. A slight sliver to his left allowed him to make eye-contact with Sophie, who immediately scooted closer next to him, pushing through the wall of frozen projections and into the circle, the cache sensing her presence and accommodating.

She glanced around, trying to make sense of it. “I thought elves and humans were cut off from each other?” she said, unsure whether it was a statement or a question.

“They were,” Fitz murmured, staring staring staring at the projections, perplexed. “At least, that’s what they told us in every history class.”

“But they also told us humans started the conflict that led to Atlantis sinking.”

Which now they knew had actually been the elves' fault, been Vespera’s fault.

Silent, Dex made some incomprehensible gestures, spreading the projections out so everyone could see the mess, thoughts on what to do next with Phoenix and the Neverseen completely abandoned; everyone wanted to know what, exactly, they’d just discovered--and accidentally at that.

Biana tapped at one full of text before her as it rotated slowly past, skimming through the words Sophie’s mind would never be able to naturally understand. One day she’d have the time to learn, but not now.

Her eyes widened as she read, ignoring the eyes on her. “This is all scribbled and scratched out, but you can understand some parts of it,” she said, more to herself than anyone else.

“Well what parts?” Fitz asked, scooting closer to peer over her shoulder, getting annoyingly close in that way siblings could get away with.“Wait--does that say what I think it does?”

Tam pressed both hands to his face. “Oh for fucks sake just tell us already instead of all this cryptic crap.” He rolled his eyes, leaning forward with a huff to tap at one of the images, a low static sounding as the audio of a memory began to play, capturing their attention.

“--make us leave? But we--entire lives here! They can’t--to us!” a voice whispered, growing in volume and horror, cutting in and out before smoothing, as though it’d been corrupted either intentionally or with time.

“It’s for the best. You’re--dangerous. Think--future generations.”

“They--erase us! Because they’re ashamed, with all the talk of genetics and purity. It’s bullshit! So what I’m part human? I’m--elf, too.”

“--not my choice! Please don’t fight it. I don’t want--to happen to you.”

The clip cut out there, but Sophie swore the crackling memory was still playing with the way the voices rang in her ears.

Part human, part elf.

Maruca swallowed. “Um. That said what I thought it said, right?”

“If you thought it was someone saying they were part elf and part human, then yeah, it did.” Wylie bit at his thumb absentmindedly, eyes wide and dazed, unfocused in the direction the voice had come from.

Sophie ran her fingers through her hair in an attempt to center herself. “But why would they hide this? What did…what happened to them?”

Was this person the only half-elf? Who were they talking to in that audio clip? When was it from? She hadn't the faintest clue how to even begin figuring out how to find that out, let alone knowing what any of that information would do.

A floating projection drifted close to Dex’s right, so he grabbed it out of the air.

Covered in text, he read it aloud, squinting and stumbling through the archaic words as he skimmed. “From here toward, all mentions made of persons of impure elven blood will be discontinued. In the interests of all elves, mention will no longer be permitted in any medias or classes offered in the elven curriculums. Those found in violation of this decree--” he cut off there, having gotten to the part that outlined the punishments, face pale.

“They erased them,” Tam murmured, looking similarly pallid as he squinted around at the various pieces of history stored away and forgotten in this little cache--how had it come to be there? What was it doing in the Atlantis library of all places. Where had it even been? It was the sea serpent that’d found it, not them.

Fitz shook his head. “I don’t get it--why would the council send us after this? What does it matter? Well, I mean, obviously this is huge, because half-elves aren’t supposed to exist, but apparently they did--or do, I don’t know anymore. But what does this have to do with what we’re doing?”

A suspicion started to nag at Sophie, one she really didn’t know what to do with except ease however she could before it drove her out of her mind.

Without responding to Fitz’s question, she scooted towards the center of the revolving sphere of projections, feeling an awful lot like she was back in that facility in the room at the end of the hall, stepping onto that stone and watching the rush of screens surround her like in some sort of sci-fi movie, too. Except the movie had become her real life and she had to deal with all the wild and impossible things that wanted to kill and hurt her and the people she loved instead of just getting cool tech.

She started grabbing at various projections, anything with an image, no matter how grainy or ill-defined; it wasn’t like the elves to have such low quality images where she couldn’t even make out the edges of a shape, but if this had been erased, who knew what condition everything was in.

How had this little cache even survived being erased?

How had it even been compiled?

How had Bronte and Oralie known about it, even if they didn’t know what it contained?

“There she goes.” Keefe pushed himself up from where he was sitting to join her in the middle, scanning around with her. He grabbed at photos she missed, memories hidden behind walls of texts, compiling them into his own assortment to merge with hers.

Marella cocked her head to the side, curiosity burning in her eyes. “Are you looking for something?”

“Not really, but I can’t read the words, so this is the best I can do.” Shrugging, she started to flip through the various images.

The first was a map of the Lost Cities. She couldn’t read any of the elven names, but she didn’t need to. On top of the official printing of elven geography, someone had scribbled in messy ink names in archaic human languages, denoting different locations around the world alongside elven. That, mixed with her admittedly scant knowledge of current elven city layouts, combined with her knowledge of human geography, told her what she needed to know: these weren’t the same Lost Cities she knew.

This map was of a time before them.

The next shifted and moved like those 3-D bookmarks her school always had at the book fair each year, but with a clarity those $2.50 scratchy things could never achieve. It showed a city not unlike Atlantis, but without its signature balefire sconces and pure crystal constructions. This city stood neat and organized, crystal and wood working together to give a breathtaking effect only multiplied by the glistening reflection off the water from canals running through the city; some were dug into the ground, large enough to fit a boat, others small and climbing through the air and gutters, cascading off of rooftops to merge together and flow away.

Crystal in buildings, even if it wasn’t the whole thing, was a distinctly elven choice. Yet she’d never seen anything like this style of architecture anywhere in their world.

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” Biana added as she leaned over Sophie’s shoulder, squinting down at the image as though that would make something click. But there wasn’t anything to click with, not if it had all been erased.

“I think it’s…a half-elf village.” She couldn’t think of any other reason the architecture would be so elven yet so not, would be hidden in this file about half-elves. Sophie offered her the photo, moving onto the next one as everyone gathered around Biana to take a look, at least those of them that weren’t trying to read through everything Sophie couldn’t.

One by one, she made her way through the photos and memories and everything else visual in her pile, unaware of the passing time, the chill that descended over the air as the sun sought its rest below the horizon. She hardly managed more than a nod of thanks when Fitz brought out blankets for everyone, wrapping them all up nice and cozy beside Wylie’s faux-fire--it’d shifted to greens and whites and greys.

She saw pictures of places, architectures previously unknown but so right alongside everything else, evidence of human sciences and beliefs scored into the walls. The symbol of an ancient god alongside a DNA strip, bookshelves lined with human languages written by part-human authors.

She listened to audio clips of meetings both secret and official. Conspirators, half-elves, finding each other and trying to figure out what to do next, if they had any power, if they could do anything; they spoke hushed of their worries, what would be done to them. Would the Golden Cities relocate them and be done with them, would they be pushed from their homes and abandoned to the elements, to the wild?

Many of them had never lived anywhere else but the Golden Cities, which she realized was the name for the Lost Cities before they’d been lost. Not to be confused with the golden capital, Gildingham. They worried where they’d go if they obeyed, how they’d survive.

In the official audio clips, councillors she didn’t know wielded authority she didn’t recognize, proclaiming amongst themselves the erasure of half-elves from history, from memory. They agreed on their forgetting, a cleansing that would remain unknown to any but them. Other species would not be alerted, their knowledge dealt with separately, and measures would need to be discussed to keep this decision from the ear of the humans; they hadn’t yet been separated, after all.

Scrap of information after another, it was all about the history of half-elves in the Golden Cities, how they’d been practically nothing, then their numbers had grown. Not enough to be noticed at large, not enough for their cities to be included officially on maps--if the elves were even aware of them, but enough that there were villages just for half-elves, who came together and found themselves among familiar faces and experiences.

And this had to be erased.

But they never explicitly mentioned why.

Faces blurred together in family photos, an elf with diamond eyes holding a child secure to their back beside a human with smile lines and textured skin, radiant smile of a laugh frozen in time, the child grinning over the shoulder with eyes brown brown brown like hers.

There was so much she had yet to see and not nearly enough to answer all the questions burning a hole through her chest, to soothe the sting in her eyes at the thought of what had happened to all these people, where they’d gone, forgotten.

She’d never forget them, even if all she had was a fragment of a name on a scrap of a letter, or a picture without a label of someone alive and free and unburdened by their world that’d decided to turn them out.

The tears in her eyes muddled the photos so much she nearly missed a crucial detail in the photo she’d just scanned over, committing these people to memory.

It actually wasn’t a photo at all, but instead a clip of a memory. She didn’t know who the person was, but they were rushing around their home, going from room to room and scrambling to shove things into a bag that seemed much too small, reminding her painfully of that day down in the Underground when she’d shoved the few things she thought she might need to hold onto into that tiny backpack she’d used to run away.

Footsteps pounded outside the house, people calling to one another; the walls were a wood packed with dried clay, bricks of crystal interspersed throughout, decorating the wall like glitter spilled from a jar.

Shirts, pants, things of water, a sentimental item snatched from a mantelpiece and tucked into a cloth wrap, gently placed among the foodstuff squished together in the haste. Fruits she didn’t recognize, breads she did, all shoved together as they grabbed a starstone hidden in a jewel encrusted box at the bottom of a bookshelf. The ancients had been said to use starstones before leaping crystals were created, a distant voice reminded her.

She nearly looked away as the person rushed towards the door, calling out for someone to do something behind them, a person who shared the home rushing around just the same, trying to fit their entire lives onto their backs as they were erased, watching themselves disappear from the history books.

They looked back, someone with flowing dark hair and stubble chasing after, pulling the bag over their shoulders as they pushed into the fading light outside.

Whoever this memory belonged to took the time to look around for a few moments, drinking the place in one last time. They scanned the street, the cobbled ground, the flowers growing in pots on doorsteps, looking at the people they’d grown around rushing around. People with grey hair leaning out windows, young adults tying hair back, children clinging to their parents.

Looking away with shaky focus, they took their companion’s hand, raising the starstone to the sky.

And just as the light swept them further, they made eye contact with one of those children, right at the memory ended.

But Sophie had the advantage of time, of being able to pause and take a moment to scan the streets without the pressure to run, to look at all the other people--elves, humans, half-elves alike, rushing from their sentence--expulsion from the Golden Cities. Erasure of anything associated with them, anything their people would remember. That included the very villages and communities they themselves had built. Included elves.

Because elves lived there.

Elves who had built families with humans in those villages couldn’t be allowed to continue, had to be separated, though the records refused to tell her why. Only speaking of the good it would cause, how it would correct their errors, benefit the future.

Refocusing, she turned her attention back to the memory.

Paused, off to the side she could see a little boy, the one the memory made eye contact with at the very end. He popped into their peripheral even before they looked at each other, giving Sophie more to remember him by, a way to watch this snippet of his life.

He stood with a bunny stuffed animal clutched tight to his chest, curly black hair sticking out in all directions as he reached towards someone turning the other way, holding out a hand. The little boy was stepping towards them, who Sophie could only assume was a parent.

Rewinding the memory a few moments, she kept her eyes on the boy for a reason she couldn’t explain. Perhaps it was the utter heartbreak of the moment, the reminder that children were caught up in the middle of all this. Maybe seeing that little boy reaching for someone when the world was turned upside down reminded her a little too much of the way Phoenix had held tight to her, asking in barely more than a whisper how she’d gotten away from Fintan and Murad, how she’d escaped.

Rewinding further, he stood blurry in the eyes of the memory, only there in the peripherals for a few moments at a time as the memory’s sight shifted focus, but she watched as he was carried, held close to the chest as someone with hair as dark and curled as his hurried along, anxiously glancing at a device in their hand.

Their face paled at whatever they saw, eyes closing like they were bracing themselves before they shoved their device away, setting down the boy and whispering something into his ear, standing up and looking back the way they’d come.

They took a few steps away and the boy cried out, reaching towards them, other hand holding tight to the bunny rabbit sewn of patchwork fabrics, well-loved enough it must’ve been passed down.

His parent looked back at him, a pained expression flickering across their face--at least that’s what Sophie thought it was as the memory shifted, looking back at the house the person had come from before back to the street, that little boy an insignificant factor in the scheme of it all.

They crumbled, darting back to hug the boy once more before they held up their hands placatingly, stepping further and further away, begging him to just wait, to stay right there with every fiber of their body language. Not that the little boy would understand. Not that Sophie did.

Why leave that kid? Were they coming back? They had to be coming back, right?

The memory was ending soon, she knew, having already seen it to the end.

But what she hadn’t paid enough attention to her first watch, before she’d focused on that little boy to commit him to memory, to remember who he was when no one else had, was the final turn.

As his parent sprinted the other direction, he watched them go for only a moment, spinning around, looking around the street with his bunny clutched close, shoulders heaving as he looked and looked and looked, mouth agape.

In the final moment, he looked directly at whoever this memory belonged to, making eye contact for only a moment as they were pulled away by the light of the starstone and the memory started to replay.

This time she paused right before the end so she could truly see him, the snippet of his face that'd made her want to rewatch it all over again.

Frozen on that frame, the little kid trembling, she zoomed in, all her focus on the face she wanted to commit to memory. It was the least she could do for these people, to let them live on in her when she could do nothing else.

As she zoomed in the picture started to blur, but the elves' attentive minds and unparalleled technology left the image clear enough for her to notice one detail.

The little boy's eyes.

Wide, whites visible on either side, they were the most startling eyes she’d ever seen, eyes that couldn’t decide if they wanted to be blue or green, so rich in their elven hue she would’ve said she’d never seen eyes that shade before.

Except, she had.

She’d seen that exact shade of greenish-blue once before, had hoped to never see them again.

That blue and the curling black hair, she could practically hear the snap of his latex gloves, feel the prick of the needle as it pushed beneath her skin, feel the chill down her spine as he snapped at something around the corner, see the swish of the embroidered red cloak that’d hid him for so long.

That little boy, she’d seen that exact same shade of blue before.

Seen them set into Murad’s cruel face.

#kotlc wings au #shattered upside down #quil's quill #kotlc fanfic #hello everyone it's only been a week but it's wings au day again!#and it's a chunky one!#and full of lore!#i have so so many thoughts head full #head bursting #head exploded #but enjoy!!

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azsazz · 4 months

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Lips of an Angel (Part 4)

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Based on the song ‘Lips of an Angel’ by Hinder. Azriel left you for Elain. After finding out that he has a child he didn’t know about, he’s furious.

**Daddy!Az AU**

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1,805

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

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The glass in his hand is empty again, the bottle next to it too.

Azriel sits at his desk, thinking about everything that has led up to this very moment: nursing the wounds he’d amassed from Rhysand as well as the full liquor bottle that he kept hidden in the bottom drawer of his desk in a secret compartment where Elain would never notice.

His left eye is swollen shut and throbbing. Bruises and cuts litter his body from the brawl he’d had with his High Lord in his office only an hour ago, over his ex and the fact that she’d had a child and never told him about.

The High Lord still packs a pretty good punch, he thinks as he shifts to pull open another drawer. His entire body aches with each movement but the alcohol has made it a touch easier. He’s burned through most of the bottle with his anger, but he could’ve sworn he had shoved another bottle in there somewhere.

Elain hasn’t arrived yet and he hopes that she doesn’t. Hopes that she doesn’t walk into his home with her striking smile and eager aura. Right now what he needs is to be alone. Alone with his thoughts, in the dark, silent and nurturing like they were when he was a child and his father trapped him in the dungeons.

The age his child is now. Wren. His chest aches an insurmountable amount when he thinks of the child, so much like him despite having never met. Eyes so strikingly similar to his own that Azriel knows you think about him everytime you look at your son. With tiny wings to match and the most stoic face he’s ever seen on a child, there was no doubting that Wren was his.

But you hadn’t even denied it when he asked, couldn’t, and that made him all the more angry at himself. That he had pushed you so far away from him, had hurt you so badly that you didn’t even tell him he had a child? That you had gone so far as to tell the High Lord and the rest of his family but not him?

“I deserved to know about my child,” he screamed into Rhysands face. The bellow was followed by a blow to his jaw, his bones reverberating beneath his skin from the force of it. It had been a long time since they’d come to blows like this, not training, but actually fighting. Azriel thinks the last time they’d had a real argument that had led to injuring each other like this was when they were still learning in the camps and Cassian and Rhysand had teased him, pushed him to his brink before accepting him into their found family.

“And you could have,” Rhys spits back, the utter fury in his voice shaking the paintings on the walls. The High Lord’s power had unleashed then, slamming Azriel back into the wall. His head crashed into the plaster with a harsh thunk and when he blinked the spots from his vision Rhysand was already pouncing towards him, ringed-fist raised. “We all put it together before you ever made a move on Elain. The signs were right there! Think about it! They were right in front of your fucking face and you didn’t even care.”

“Gods,” Azriel groans. He’s been leaning over his chair for far too long and the broken rib his brother had given him makes it hard to breathe.

But Rhysand had been right, all of the signs were there, he was just too infatuated with finding a mate that he overlooked them.

When you’d started having dizzy spells and he’d passed it off as you not drinking enough water, or when you’d told him you missed your cycle, he remembers that like it was yesterday and curses himself for being so dimwitted.

All of the times you’d tried to cuddle up to him or kissed him just the way he liked but he still pushed you away because it had felt wrong to kiss you back when Elain was standing right over there. He was so busy chasing after Feyre’s middle sister that he didn’t notice your scent shifting, thinking you were coming down with a sickness that would keep you in bed for a day or two so he could have some time with Elain and didn’t have to worry about you finding out.

It was all right fucking there, and he hadn’t been able to see it.

Even when he’d come home to find you sitting in the guest room one night. The door had been cracked open and you’d been sitting on the edge of the bed looking around the room with a look on your face he hadn’t even cared to decipher, but he remembers it now. It was awe, excitement as you clutched your belly, probably thinking to yourself how exciting it was going to be to decorate a room for the babe growing in your belly. But all Azriel had done was pass it off as you starting to realize the distance he was forcing between the both of you and maybe you had decided to sleep in there that night instead of the room you shared.

There is no denying that he’s fucked up. Fucked up to the point of never finding love again. He realizes in this moment how badly he’s treated you, treated the little boy that dons his face and doesn’t even know him. Wren already thinks that Malik is his father, and with the way that the fae male looks Azriel can’t blame him. While you clearly had a type, your current boyfriend doesn’t seem to be as broody or cruel to you as he’d been.

Azriel sighs, saddened by the lack of alcohol he’s hidden in his desk, and sits in self-pity instead.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Azriel wipes his hands on his pants because truly, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.

Sitting across the table from you, Malik, and Rhysand was not something he’d ever thought he’d be doing. Let alone being in the same room as you again.

And fuck, you’re as gorgeous as he remembers, even with the guarded way you’re sitting, arms crossed over your chest and your mouth set into a firm line as you stare him down like it’s not fucking burning you up to see him as much as it is for him to see you.

Rhysand looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. They’ve both healed up due to the nature of their fae healing, but his brother’s glare makes Azriel want to allow the shadows curling around his ankles to shroud him behind their blackness.

And Malik. Malik is here, with his arm around the back of your chair. He’s slid his own closer to yours for comfort, and even the cheerful male he’d seen with his son doesn’t seem so joyful right now. His straight brows are drawn and he keeps glancing over at you in concern.

Azriel can’t even find it in himself to hate the male. The one who’s taken care of you, of his son all of these years he’d been so oblivious. He wants to hate him with the fires of a thousand autumn fires, but, after the way that he’s treated you, he can’t help but to feel a little bit grateful for the male.

Wren hadn’t joined you, of course not. Feyre had taken him and Nyx down into the Rainbow for an afternoon art class followed by the most ice cream they could even imagine. Normally, you wouldn’t allow Wren so many sweets, but he’s been more than stressed lately with the information of seeing his birth father, and you’ve been trying to help him work through his own feelings on the matter.

Feyre even helped place Wren into an art therapy course with one of her good friends. Everett owns the studio next door and you’ve heard nothing but the best about the therapist. She’s been a light in Wren’s life as of late, and he seems to be responding well to the therapy. So well that he’s mentioned he might be open to meeting Azriel one day.

Today is not that day.

He doesn’t know what to say. His throat is clogged with years worth of emotions. Azriel prides himself on his cool, calm exterior, but right now, there’s none of that front on display. His palms are slick with sweat, leg jerking up and down to try and dispel some of the anxiety wracking his body. It’s no use at all.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” he starts, and it’s more than a little awkward. He watches you and Rhysand share a glance and deflates in his chair. He’s more than a fucking prick.

“I’m not doing it for you,” you start, and he’s never heard your voice so cold. “I’m doing this for Wren.”

Azriel looks up at the sound of his son’s voice. There’s a hopeful note in his golden eyes that you don’t want to diminish, even if there’s still a sting as you’re reminded when his eyes had lit up like that at the sight of you. Your hands fall from where they’re crossed across your chest as the dread settles in, and you can’t seem to fight the tingling of your sinuses. You don’t love him anymore, but seeing him so often after years spent apart brings the feelings of everything he had done right back.

Sensing your shifting emotions, Malik drops his hand from the back of your chair to your lap, threading his fingers through yours. Azriel’s shadows relay the way that you cling to his hand tightly, and he shifts in his seat.

He watches the way that your eyes go glossy, unfocusing from his and he knows that Rhysand is speaking to you, mind-to-mind. Azriel is sure that his brother is doing his best to reassure you, but it doesn’t make him feel any better. It should have been him reassuring you. It should have been him by your side all of this time.

Just the thought of Elain pains him. Everything that he has fucking done to you because he thought that he wanted her plays over and over and over again in his head. He will never forgive himself for any of this, but the road to making things up to you, up to his son, starts now.

Rhysand takes the reins of the conversation, and Azriel doesn’t like the way that he’s looking at him like any one of his courtiers, hands folded together as they sit on the table.

He’s even wearing his crown.

“Wren has decided that he wants to meet you. Properly, this time.”

The floor falls out from under Azriel’s chair.

#azriel acotar #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel angst #lips of an angel

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luxaofhesperides · 5 months

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Wings AU ; requested by @justwannabecat!

“Are you sure it looks good?” Duke asks for the sixth time in an hour.

Tim sighs and says, yet again, “It looks fine. Just give it to him! If he doesn’t love it, I’ll beat him up for you.”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“I could! But you’re right, I wouldn’t. I would just psychologically torment him until he broke.”

“Don’t do that, please. I’d like to actually have a chance with him, even if he hates this.”

“He won’t,” Tim says. He actually stops typing to give Duke a severe look. “Go and give it to him. If you don’t go now, he’s going to think you bailed.”

Duke glances at the time, then jumps. “Shit! Thanks for your help, man!” He’s out of the door before Tim can say another word. He doesn’t bother with the front door, or even going down the hallway. Instead, he opens the nearest window and flings himself out of it, unfurling his tawny wings to catch the wind beneath them and ride them into the city proper.

He briefly considers stopping for a moment to change into his Signal outfit so he can fly above civilian jurisdiction, then decides that it’s far easier to just bend the light around him so he’s invisible. He wouldn’t want to be late meeting Danny, after all. Especially not for this.

He hadn’t been expecting Danny to be into traditional courting methods. Most people tend to go the more modern way of dating, but Danny had mentioned once or twice that he thought it was romantic. He had blushed, mumbling the words, but Duke heard them and went into researching courting methods to see which ones Danny might like best.

Sure, he could just ask Danny out on a date like he normally would if he liked someone, but if Danny wants to be courted, then Duke is going to court him!

It’s why he’s been planning this out carefully, gathering his primaries after his wings molted a few months ago so he could string them together into a thin wing covering.

Admittedly, this courting method isn’t super common, but the thought of giving Danny his feathers, making it look like their wings are one and the same, has kept Duke up some nights, wanting it so badly.

Besides, he thinks Danny will like it. Considering the state of his wings after the Accident…

Duke holds his handmade wing covers closer to his chest, flier lower as he leaves Bristol and enters Diamond District. The streets are busy, full of people. Most tend to stay on the ground, wings tucked close to their bodies, but there are plenty still flying above cars and buses that Duke has to carefully fly around.

It takes another twenty minutes to get to Robinson Park, where Duke drops down to the ground and takes a moment to make sure all his feathers are straight and neatly displayed. Then he walks into the park, heading towards their usual meeting place.

For once, it’s a nice, sunny day in Gotham. Everyone’s taking advantage of it. The park is full of couples and families, walking around slowly, and kids dart through the air, still unable to go very high with their wings not yet fully grown in. It’s nice to hear the laughter and general chatter of people wandering the park.

Duke doesn’t spend too long walking the paved paths through the park. He steps off of it near the second water fountain on the path, then heads into the trees, passing two moms on a picnic with their three kids rolling around the grass nearby.

Tucked away in this corner of the park is a small clearing surrounded by thin trees. The tile is dirty and cracked, no one maintaining it at all with it hidden away.

He sees Danny’s wings first, with long feathers that trail onto the ground, a black that shines dark blue in the light. He follows the lines of his wings back to his body, where Danny sits on a bench, leaning his weight back against his hands as he lifts his head up into the sunlight, basking in the warmth.

He really is so pretty. He insists that he isn’t, but Duke regularly spends time with the Wayne family, all who have modeled before, so he’s got a better idea than most about what pretty looks like, and Danny fits the bill.

“Hey,” Duke calls out softly, watching as Danny slowly blinks his eyes open and turns to give him a warm smile.

“Hey! I’m free for the rest of the day, which means we have so much time to complain about things today.”

“I didn’t keep you waiting, did I?”

“Nope,” Danny says. “I wouldn’t mind waiting, though. I like hanging out with you.”

Heart pounding in his chest, Duke walks forward. He doesn’t know if there’s something specific he has to say when presenting his gift, if there’s a courting tradition involved that he didn’t learn about. He’s terrified Danny’s going to reject it. He’s praying that Danny accepts it.

“Are you okay?” Danny asks, standing to get a better look at him. “You seem tense…” He trails off as he catches sight of what Duke holds in his hands, breath stuttering.

“I’m fine. I, um.” Duke steps into the clearing, entering the sunlight, and holds out his wing covers. “I made them for you. You mentioned before that you thought courting traditions were romantic… I don’t know if you like wing covers, but I thought you’d look good in my feathers… Only if you want it though!”

He’s trying so hard not to cringe away in embarrassment. He’s flirted with Danny before, half jokes and half serious, always playful. Duke was smooth then, delighting in how flustered it made Danny before he hit back with his own flirting. Now he’s a hesitant, stuttering fool, tripping over his words and struggling to find the perfect things to say. Maybe he should have thought up a speech, or something. Memorized a few lines to speak his intentions with this courting gift. Done literally any prep for giving the gift instead of focusing only on making it.

Danny doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move either. He just stares, wide-eyed at the wing covers in Duke’s hands.

That’s a bad sign, isn’t it.

His hands lower just a touch, and he quietly prompts, “Danny?”

Just as he’s about to pull back, step away and try to fix things, messily attempt to salvage their friendship because clearly Danny doesn’t want to be courted by Duke, Danny’s hands snap out whip-fast and latch onto his wrists.

“This is… for me?” he whispers, awed.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s for you.”

“And you’re courting me? Like, for real?”

“Yeah, definitely courting you for real. Do you accept?”

Danny throws himself into Duke’s arms, careful not to crush the wing covers between them. “In what world would I say no?” he laughs, bright with joy. He pulls back a second later, not giving Duke time to hug him back, and turns around, carefully stretching his wings out. “Put them on for me?”

“Of course.”

He starts by smoothing out some of Danny’s feathers. He doesn’t get to do this often; Danny hates having his wings on display for anyone, with how they spasm occasionally, and have empty patches where feathers will never grow in again. The Accident, all that electricity coursing through him, it permanently damaged his wings. There is no healing to be done.

His wings are lacking too many flight feathers and primaries for him to fly. He’s stuck on the ground now, unable to use his wings for more than a minute. Old burns are still visible closer to his spine.

Danny prefers hiding his wings away. He hates thinking about the Accident, hates how it’s taken his wings from him, how it’s changed him completely.

But Duke loves his wings. He loves the softness of Danny’s lower feathers, how they shine in the light, how they always puff up when it gets windy. He’s only gotten to preen them twice before, and he treasures those memories more dearly than anything else.

This easily outshines both those moments.

He gently combs his fingers through Danny’s feathers, straightening them out, then lays the first wing cover over his right wing. His own brown feathers drape over the top of Danny’s wings, hiding the featherless patches from view. He does the same to the other wing, then adjust both until they lay perfectly on Danny’s wings.

As soon as he lifts his hands away from Danny’s wings, Danny is spinning around with a grin, flaring his wings out.

“How do I look?”

“Perfect,” Duke answers. He was right; Danny looks good in his feathers.

He watches, fond and amused, as Danny spins, keeping his wings flared, admiring his new look. “I’m never taking these off,” he says. “I love them so much. I can’t really make one for you, though…”

“You don’t need to.”

“I can’t just accept this and not give you something in return!”

“Well… There is one thing you could give me. Something I’ve been wanting for a long time.”

“What is it?” Danny asks, leaning towards Duke. He’s eager, ready to please, so delighted to be courted.

Duke smiles. “A kiss.”

“Done.”

He doesn’t have time to react before Danny is pouncing on him, hands fisting the collar of his shirt as he tilts his head up and kisses Duke. He pulls back before Duke can kiss back, blushing and unbearably cute.

And all Duke manages to say is, “Cool.”

He’s so good at this.

Danny rightfully laughs at him, then grabs his hand and pulls him down to the bench. “Come on, I promised to complain about my teachers today and I intend to deliver. And maybe later, I could take you out on a date? If you want.”

“Danny, of course I want to go on a date with you. I’m courting you! I thought I made my feelings clear!”

“I’m just making sure!” Danny shouts over him, and Duke can’t resist the urge to pull him closer and pepper kisses along his cheek. “Okay, okay, I got it. You’ve made your feelings clear. I’m going to date you so hard.”

“You better. It’s about time you put some work into our relationship.”

“Excuse you?!” Danny gasps in mock outrage, and they start bickering lightheartedly as they always do.

Even with their feelings come to light, even with a courtship started and a date promised, it doesn’t feel like anything between them has changed.

It’s just them. Just as it always has been.

Duke couldn’t be happier.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #prompt fill #my writing #this was going to be longer bc i got into worldbuilding but then it got TOO long so i scrapped all that to focus on duke and danny #first time writing wing fic.... the amount of thought i put into how this world works had my head spinning #like this one: most people sleep in hamocks or have beds that are off the ground so they can stretch their wings out #regular beds like ours exist but mostly for kids/senior citizens/people with damaged wings who cant fly #like danny. so he has a normal bed and duke has a hammock which means the cuddling situation is Difficult #usually it ends with danny on his back and duke on his chest or danny completely wrapped up in dukes wings #just picture that. youre welcome :)

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bones4thecats · 4 months

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What Are They Like As Parents? - Hazbin Hotel

Type of Writing: Random Idea Characters: Vox, Valentino, Velvette, and Alastor Name: What Are They Like As Parents? Idea-Gifter: Random Thoughts

A/N: This is basically an AU where they married their S/O in real life and had a child with them back then. But, due to issues with birth, their S/O died with the child. So there will be trigger warnings when it comes to that. Also, the type of demon the reader is is listed below! Have a nice rest of your days/nights, my lil bubbles🫧

P.S: The Reader goes through birth, so they're headcanoned as female, but a gender is not fully noted

⚠️ Trigger Warnings: Death, Swearing, Miscarriage, and mentions of Assault ⚠️

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Technological-Demon! Reader ; Medical Technology

📺 Vox and you were very close when alive. Growing up together and eventually falling in love and marrying

📺 Sooner rather than later, you were expecting a baby boy, in which you two decided to name him (M/N). Unfortunately, due to difficulties during birth, Vox had lost not only his unborn child, but he lost his spouse

📺 Ever since that day, the man had driven himself further into his work, trying to push the memories of you both with your bump past him, he didn't want to remember how you smiled so gently at him as you died, or how the doctors tried saving you as blood erupted around your form

📺 It was because of how he held himself to such a low-degree that Vox had passed away, and due to his actions in life, he was banished to hell

📺 He believed he deserved it, but now he could start anew, and that was where he grew back into power and eventually met a fairly new Overlord, one that had your same name

📺 Once he asked you and learned that you and your son were transferred to hell, he grew upset, why on Earth were you, the sweetest being he had ever known sent to hell? And why was his son, who never did anything in life, get sent here?!

📺 Every other Overlord, besides Alastor, was on-edge when your small son crawled out from your hand, being nothing but small shocks before turning into a mixture of Vox and your's demon forms

📺 He just smiled lightly and kneeled in front of his child, patting him on the head and declaring how he'd protect you guys till the end of time, in no way was he going to allow you guys to slip from his grasp again

📺 Now, as your son was made into the form of a young child (4-6), Vox always tried to keep his anger on the down-low. He didn't want his son to only see his father angry and full of rage

📺 While he may seem like a horrible father at first, once he got used to the fact that your child was interested in your occupations, you being a medic of the Overlords and him being the head of VoxTek, he smirked at Valentino and Velvette before holding his child and gloating about his company

📺 Speaking of the other two Vees, they adore your child. Valentino loves to help your son with his social skills, and he tries keeping his business on the down-low around him, he doesn't need to get shocked or nearly have his wings amputated by Vox and you again

📺 Velvette on the other hand, she loves to test her outfits on your child, from helping him find the most suitable outfits to having him listen to something on her phone as she speaks to her two main allies during a meeting, she is honestly a decent aunt

📺 Vox also has a wild obsession with watching Alastor fail, so if he were to ever see the Radio Demon talking to you or his son, he'd lose his shit, not caring who was there to watch

" I swear to fuck, you old-timey shit-stain, if you ever try touching my S/O or my son again, I'll fucking kill you and drag your corpse all around hell for the all people to see. "

Insect-Demon! Reader ; Rosy Maple Moth

❣️ Valentino and you married quite early in life and had a very active life

❣️ It was due to your shared actions that you found of you were pregnant quite early, which made him try calming down from his actions and begin to coddle you

❣️ Unfortunately for him, your body couldn't quite handle the stress of birth, resulting in your demise, along with your daughter. And due to this event, he was driven mad

❣️ This was where he developed his abusive personality, constantly yelling and assaulting his workers, including Angel Dust when he first arrived and signed a contract

❣️ It took a while, but one he had heard about a new Overlord that looked a lot like Valentino (in terms of species) with a daughter that looked nearly identical, he decided to attend the next meeting without his fellow Vees

❣️ It only took a quick glance for him to know exactly who you were, in life you loved to mess around with roses, so it only made sense that you'd become a demon in relation to that plant

❣️ Once the meeting ended, Valentino walked up behind you and hugged you, wrapping his larger wings around your form as he felt your tiny orange-yellow antenna tickle his chin

❣️ Valentino also loves his baby girl a lot, spoiling the young girl with everything she could ever want

❣️ Once you and her walked back into his life, everyone within his studio learned who you were quickly, you were the long-time spouse of Valentino's, and the father to his young daughter

❣️ They also took notice of how more collected he was, and while he did have his moments of anger, he rarely ever laid a hand on his employees, unless he got angry enough

❣️ Valentino also swore on his afterlife that he would never touch anyone in the ways that he would touch you or your daughter, which allowed your new friend, Angel Dust, to be more free with his time

❣️ Much like Vox, he doesn't seem like he'd be a good parent. And they're kinda right, but only with certain situations

❣️ Valentino doesn't know what to do when it comes to certain scenarios, like when your daughter asked where children came from and you had to wrap your pink and yellow wings around his mouth to silence him from giving a very detailed story of how she came into existence

❣️ Vox and Velvette are also fairly involved with helping him raise his child, Velvette loves to help her dress, from giving her small clips to put in her hair to giving her full-fledged outfits, she spoils her just as much as Valentino does

❣️ Vox also spoils her, but he also knows when to be strict, he mostly just watches her whenever Valentino and you get busy with running the studio in V Tower. He's been declared the 'Godfather'/'Uncle' of your baby

Bird-Like-Demon! Reader ; Peacock

📳 Velvette and you agreed that you'd raise your child together, despite knowing that it wasn't her own, rather, it was your ex-husband's

📳 He had abandoned you with your unborn baby a few months prior to you and Velvette married, and it was on your honeymoon that you went into labor

📳 Sadly, you had lost the baby, and eventually lost your life due to internal injuries just a few months later, prompting your wife to go a hint overboard with her actions

📳 When she died, she never expected to see you sitting across from her at an Overlord meeting, your long tail feathers falling onto your lap where a small boy sat, playing with them

📳 She looked up in shock as you told her of your son, how you both were banished here, your son due to the fact that he had the potential to due just a horrid things as you, and that angered her

📳 Velvette loves to mess around with your feathers that laid behind your head, the ones that only flare up when upset or feeling any kind of strong emotion

📳 She also adores to have you carry her, since she was fairly short when it comes to sinners, and you were very tall when it came to the species

📳 Now, when it comes to your son, she loves to dress him up, acting as if he was a small mannequin that she needed to make look as gorgeous as possible, and thankfully he looks a lot like you, meaning if something looked good on you, it would no doubt look good on him as well

📳 If your ex-husband ever came by to take his son back, she would straight-up ruin his life, literally. She'd post everything around to make him lose his title, and if that didn't work, she'd just kill him, she doesn't care which he chooses

" I swear to you, (R/N). If you ever, ever, try to come here and demand to have the son that you abandoned in the first place, I will do two things. I'll ruin your fucking afterlife by stripping your title away, and I'll make sure during the next Extermination, you get a very long and fucking long death, try me, bitch-boy. "

📳 Velvette also is a fairly good step-mother to your son, she loves to give him small trinkets she finds around. One time she came home with a small present from the store, and when your son looked at the tiny necklace that opened to show holographic photos of you three together, you couldn't help but fall for her even more

📳 Much like with the other Vees, she does involve Valentino and Vox with her step-child's life

📳 On average, she has Valentino just help watch him, leaving Vox being the head of watching him, she doesn't need to have you on her ass about how Valentino took her son to the studio to observe his work

📳 Vox is the official 'Grandfather' of your son, while Valentino is more like the 'Funcle' of the two

Mythical-Creature-Demon! Reader ; Wendigo

🔘 Alastor and you shared a lot in common during life, from your cannibalistic and murderous crimes, you both bonded over the fact that you were able to keep it all away from people's eyes, despite your high-ranks in society

🔘 He was the head of his own radio broadcast, while you were the head of a small orphanage that took in any child that was needing a home without any problems

🔘 Ever since Mimzy introduced the two of you and you learned of your situations, you decided to 'help' one another out, and by that, I mean by covering for one another

🔘 This teamwork led to you guys falling in love, in a twisted way that is. He loved you for how you would just casually keep a smile on, and you loved him because of his owl personality

🔘 While many didn't expect him to ever fall in love, due to him being a canonical aromantic, they did find it funny to watch him just smile and treat you like a member of royalty

🔘 He never really did find a need for intimate actions, but one drunken night and a lot of pregnancy tests later, you found of you were carrying his child, alerting him to keep you away from your previous crimes. He didn't need you or the child getting harmed

🔘 Alastor may not have shown it, but he was very heartbroken when the doctor released the news that you had lost your baby, and eventually your own life

🔘 Knowing due to your crimes that you'd end up in hell, Alastor would sit at your grave and speak of how he'd see you sometime soon

🔘 And he was right. He had found you once again during his first Overlord meeting, what he did not expect was seeing your young son sitting on your lap while gnawing on a small hunk of deer meat

🔘 He knew that this was your shared child, and he welcomed the youngling with open arms and a fully-fledged smile, his sharp teeth matching his son's

🔘 Speaking of your son, he loves to spend time with his father, learning how to play the piano and singing old songs with him as you stood off to the side with Husk and Niffty, watching the boys have fun

🔘 Alastor only allows you and your son to really touch him without many warnings, and while it took a lot to get used to, he loves watching him randomly grab his staff and try singing in the microphone

🔘 Much like his father, your son can use tentacles and use his powers to make his voice radio-sounding, and it is the funniest thing to watch members of the Hotel go nuts hearing so much of the noise

🔘 Due to being the son of the Radio Demon and the Wendigo Overlord, many don't even dare trying to touch your son, well, except for Vox and Lucifer

🔘 Vox one time had decided to try holding your son without permission, resulting in him being sent flying across the meeting room by your husband

🔘 And when Lucifer first arrived and began to tickle your son to make him laugh, he stood off to the side with his ears pushed backwards in irritation, watching his son smile by such a fatherly action not being made by him was annoying

🔘 And, because of your declaration, you named the members of the Hotel as your son's 'Godfathers'/'Godmothers', only having Husk and Niffty as the 'Siblings' of your son

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serpentandlily · 7 months

Text

Wicked Games - Halloween Special

Dark!BatBoys x Reader (modern au)

Summary: The boys corrupt their captured Angel.

Warnings: drug use, thigh riding, dark themes (mdni)

a/n: HAPPY HALLOWEEN!! 🎃✨ hope you enjoy this little Halloween special with our favorite boys!

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥Part III

༺♥༻

Halloween Special

༺♥༻

The music was pounding through the speakers, the lights pulsating mixed colors on the floor and walls. The atmosphere was dark and sensual. Fake cobwebs hung in the corners of the walls, spooky decorations placed all over.

It was Halloween night and the club was packed full of people in all sorts of costumes. You surveyed the dance floor, watching the mixture of bodies all moving together to the fast paced music.

You were where you always were when you came to Velaris, the illustrious night club. In the VIP section, perched on the owner’s lap—Rhysand’s lap.

He was lucky he was much taller than you otherwise the white feathered wings you had strapped to your back would’ve smothered his face.

You were dressed as an Angel. Your costume had, of course, been picked out by Rhysand. It was hardly more than some skimpy white lingerie completed with a halo headband and the wings.

Rhysand was dressed as the Devil in all black, with horns clipped in his hair. Not much of a costume but considering he already was a devil in disguise, it suited him.

Cassian and Azriel were dressed as his demons. Both also had horns clipped to their hair and wore massive bat-like wings.

An Angel and her devil and two demons.

You had to admit, they all looked hot—devilishly handsome. Just the sight of them alone had your pulse racing. You knew by the grin on their faces that they felt it too.

You sipped on your cocktail, already on your second one and feeling a nice buzz. Rhysand leaned forward, brushing your hair to one side.

“Having fun, Angel?”

His breath ghosted the tip of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Not too long ago you had been in a similar position with him while his fingers were inside of you. The thought of that night caused an ache between your legs.

“Yes, sir,” you replied, leaning into his touch. His arm was wrapped around your waist, his hand flat against your stomach.

“Such good manners tonight,” Cassian teased from next to you. “Maybe you should always keep this costume on.”

“Don’t tease her, Cass.” Azriel’s dark and husky voice came from your other side. You felt him graze the back of his knuckles against your upper arm. “Not while she’s being such an angel.”

You smirked at Cassian. You always loved it when Azriel took your side. Cassian playfully narrowed his eyes at you in challenge.

“I think she deserves a sweet treat,” Rhysand purred. “Do you guys agree?”

You twisted your head to the side to look at Rhys. Your eyes met Rhy’s violet ones full of mischief and lust. Your eyebrows raised in question as his two demons nodded their agreement.

Rhysand reached into his pocket and pulled something out. It was a small baggie filled with a few translucent looking patches.

“What is that?”

“This, Angel, is called the Devil’s Tongue,” Rhys whispered. He leaned down, nipping at your ear. “It’ll make you feel good. I promise.”

He sat up straight, raising a single eyebrow at you in question. You weren’t a stranger to drugs, though you’d never tried this one before. But it was Halloween after all, and the Devil was offering you the chance to sin.

You held out your palm but Rhys smacked it down.

“Pick one of my demons, Angel.”

You were confused, facing forward again to look at Cassian and Azriel. Cassian grinned at you but Azriel’s face held just a small smirk.

“Azriel,” you said. He had been on your side earlier, after all. Cassian gave you a faux pout while Azriel’s smirk turned into a grin.

A grin that looked anything but friendly. You swallowed nervously. Perhaps you had chosen wrong.

Rhysand opened the baggie and pulled out one of the tiny square patches. You watched with curiosity as Azriel opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. Rhys placed the translucent patch right on his tongue.

The Devil’s Tongue indeed.

“If you want it,” Rhys purred as he gripped both your wrists in his hand. “You’ll have to take it from him.”

You knew where this was going. Rhysand was going to continue to hold your arms back so if you wanted it, you’d have to use your own tongue to take it from him. It really should’ve taken you longer than half a second to decide what you wanted but when in Rome…

You made eye contact with Azriel, bristled at the challenge in his hazel eyes. Fine then. You’d show them.

You leaned towards him, your eyes fluttering closed. You stuck your tongue out, letting it swirl over his before licking the patch right off his tongue. But you took things further as Azriel pulled his tongue back into his mouth and smashed your lips against his.

Azriel was quick to react, meeting your passionate vigor with his own, a small grunt escaping from him. Rhys shifted you in his lap with a groan, clearly enjoying the show you and Azriel were putting on.

You felt the drug dissolve in your mouth as you continued to kiss Azriel. His tongue darted out again, swiping your bottom lip. You parted your lips with a small gasp, letting him in.

Cassian let out a jealous growl from behind you, his calloused hand gripped your thigh. You continued to make-out with Azriel, groaning into his kiss as you felt Rhysand harden beneath you.

Cassian’s large hands moved to your waist, yanking you from Azriel and pulling you to face him. You smirked at the feral hunger in his eyes, the envy behind it.

“My turn,” he growled.

You tilted your head at him. “I don’t know, Cassian. I don’t think you’ve been very good tonight.”

His eyes sparked and he leaned forward to whisper in your ear. “Tonight isn’t about me being good, baby girl. It’s about seeing just how bad we can make you.”

He pulled back to give you a wolfish grin.

“Why don’t you show my demon a little mercy, Angel?” Rhysand murmured. “Open up.”

The command in his voice had you parting your swollen lips, sticking your tongue out so he could place one of the tiny patches on it.

Cassian launched forward, licking the drug right off your tongue before grabbing you by the back of the head and crashing his lips against yours with a groan.

Azriel’s kiss had been sensual, slow and tantalizing. But Cassian was rougher with you, a mixture of teeth and lips that had you panting. You mindlessly grinded your ass into Rhysand’s hard cock needing more and more.

The drug was starting to kick in now. You could feel it inside of you, amplifying the emotions you were already feeling and leaving your mind spinning. Desire lit a flame in the lower pit of your stomach, your core pulsating with need.

Rhysand pulled you away from Cassian, who whined in response. You squealed as he spun you around easily, until your legs straddled his hips and you faced him. His eyes were dark with lust and he growled as his cock pressed against your clothed center.

“Open,” he commanded.

Your eyes were half-lidded as you stared at him with just as much hunger. You stuck your tongue out, letting him place another tablet on it. He swirled his tongue around yours, much like you had done to Azriel, before licking the patch from you.

Every inch of your skin was on fire. The air was heavy with desire and need. You wanted so much more. Wanted to take and take and take what you needed from them.

Azriel and Cassian’s hands were all over you, stroking your spine, your thighs, your shoulders. Any bit of exposed skin they could reach. You tossed your head back with a sigh, looking up at the pulsating colors on the ceiling that changed to the beat of the loud music.

“You are so hot,” Cassian growled, scraping his canines against the lobe of your ear.

“Beautiful,” Azriel breathed, kissing up your shoulder to your neck.

“Our little Angel is just as sinful as we are,” Rhysand purred.

More. You needed more.

“Rhys,” you whined, unsure why. All you knew was the ache between your thighs was almost unbearable. Cassian nipped at your throat as Azriel’s tongue lapped at the swell of your breast.

“What is it, Angel?” Rhysand crossed his hands behind his head, his gaze drifting between your eyes and your body that was perched perfectly in his lap—The Devil, king of the underworld without a crown, letting his demons corrupt his captured Angel.

“I want…” you mewled out between pants of air. “I need more.”

“Go on, Angel.” Rhysand grinned and you were spinning again. “Take what you need from me.”

Cassian’s hands trailed down your thigh, sliding under it and lifting your leg moving it between Rhysand’s lap so you were straddling one thigh. Azriel was kissing up your throat, gripping your chin with his hand to keep you in place.

Rhysand jerked his knee and you gasped as his leg rubbed against your center. Your eyes widened as you turned your head around to glance at the club but with Azriel and Cassian huddled so close to you and Rhysand, their large wings blocked your view.

“No one can see you, sweetheart,” Azriel said darkly, twisting your face to his. “No one is allowed to see you. Not like this.”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips. You kissed him back, relishing in the feeling of his soft lips. Cassian’s hand roamed your body, kneading your breasts, running up and down your bare thighs while Rhysand watched intensely.

“Help her, Cassian,” Rhysand ordered.

You were still too wrapped up in Azriel’s kiss, letting his tongue explore your mouth to understand what Rhysand meant. That is, until you felt Cassian grab you by your hips and rocked you on Rhysand’s thigh.

You gasped into Azriel’s kiss, a shot of electricity piercing through your body as your core rubbed against Rhysand’s leg. Cassian rocked you again and again, guiding your movement as he lapped at your throat, your jaw, the tops of your breasts. Anywhere he could.

“That's it, baby girl,” Cassian encouraged. “Use Rhys for your own pleasure. Let us make you feel good.”

Your Angel wings and breasts bounced softly with every roll of your hips. It wouldn’t take much to push you over the edge, not with the drug amplifying every feeling, every brush against your skin.

Cassian’s hands went back to roaming your body as you took over riding Rhysand’s thigh on your own. The grunts and groans coming from all three of them, the sight of Rhysand straining against his pants, only turned you on even more.

The pressure was building and building in the pit of your stomach. The colors of the club mixed together, the beat of the music serving as a guide for the movement of your hips.

You were so close. So close.

Azriel bit down on your bottom lip right as Rhysand purred, “Come for us, Angel. Let us hear those beautiful cries.”

The tiny spark of pain, his words, the feeling of his thigh rubbing against you—it knocked you right over the edge. You pulled away from Azriel’s kiss, tossing your head back as your orgasm shot straight through you.

It was lightening, euphoric, peaking you so high that the tumble down had you falling limp against Rhysand’s chest.

“Good girl,” he muttered, stroking a hand down your spine. “Our perfect little Angel.”

Because that’s what you were.

An Angel, captured by the Devil and his demons.

But if this was hell, you never wanted to go back to heaven.

༺♥༻

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