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lxclerc · 2 months

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𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 ─ 𝐨𝐩𝟖𝟏

summary: where oscar has done everything in his power to make his feelings for you as obvious as possible, but you are simply quite clueless to the poor boy’s advances pairing: oscar piastri x driver!reader warning: fluff, oblivious reader

note: i wrote this in two hours and it's purely for fun. i did not bother thinking about how realistic this could be at all so it's a bit ridiculous i think

masterlist

sometimes, oscar just wants to run into a wall and knock himself out.

maybe that would shake his brain enough for it to formulate a plan for you to finally realize all the oh so awfully obvious hints he’s been dropping. he’s been so obvious that the entire world knows it; all the other drivers, mechanics from practically every team, reporters, fans. literally everybody has picked up on his pitiful attempts at catching your attention but you.

or maybe he needed to push you down a flight of stairs and knock you out for you to finally figure out that he likes you as more than friends. because at this point, it’s starting to get ridiculous. he’s been pursuing you since f3. in every ridiculous challenge with prema to every track walks and everything in between, he’s done everything possible to show you that he likes you, fancies you, absolutely besotted to the sound of your voice.

that never seems to discourage him though, if anything, it only makes him like you more. robert once joked that you’d put a spell on him and oscar can’t quite deny it if he’s being honest.

“y/n, wait up!” he called to you right before the driver’s parade, leaving lando behind him, who whispered a quick good luck to him.

hearing your name made you turn to him, an instant smile on your face that made oscar’s heart violently lurch forward. most of the time, you preferred to keep your hair in a tight ponytail, wanting all the little strands out of your face when you’re on track but this time, strands had fallen off the paintail, framing your face in such a perfect way that knocks the breath out of oscar’s lungs.

you’re perfect in his eyes all the time of course; even in the few times you’d pushed him off track, but there’s something so ethereal about you when your smile is for him.

charles, your teammate, and lewis whom you were previously talking to subtle stepped away from you in order to give the two of you a moment. charles throws oscar a small thumbs up with that maniacal smile of his whenever he’s fortunate enough to be able to watch oscar absolutely get crushed by y/n’s cluelessness every time he tries and drops a hint to his feelings.

“hey, osc,” you greet, easily falling into step with him.

“hey, how’s the down under treating you?” he asked, trying to act casually as he buried his hands in his pockets.

he winced at his own words. how’s the down under treating you? really?

at least you seem to find it amusing as you award him with a chuckle, hand instinctively wrapping around his arm the way girls do when they’re really comfortable with you and don’t want you to get lost in the crowd. you only ever do it to him (and he’s made sure to check) and it never fails to quite literally turn him to mush.

“you know i’ve adored it!” you gush. you love australia, this is no secret to everyone , so much so that you’ve joked about it being your second home race, to which oscar have always enthusiastically nodded in agreement to. “charles, alexandra and i went cafe hopping all around melbourne yesterday.”

oscar hummed, trying to hide the hint of disappointment in his face that you hadn’t asked him to accompany you like the few times in the past but he knows that you and charles’ girlfriend have formed a very close friendship. “is that so? i’m glad you had fun.”

you smile up at him. “how about you? i reckon it’s nice being back home, isn’t it?”

“absolutely. the family’s been asking about you, by the way.” he just wanted you to keep talking. you could talk his ears off for hours and oscar would never complain.

you face instantly light up at that. “i’ll make sure to drop by the mclaren garage later. i miss nicole.”

“she missed you too,” he says before clearing his throat. “so um, are you immediately flying out tomorrow?”

you shook your head. “no, i’m planning to stay for a couple more days.”

“oh good.” he thanked god his hands were buried in his pockets so you can’t see how much they’re shaking. “you’re free tomorrow then?”

you nod and he nods back at you awkwardly. “yeah.”

“oh good.” stop. stop. he already said that. “do you want to check out that restaurant we went to during f2 maybe?”

your face lights up again and your hand that’s holding on to his arm squeezes it ever so slightly in excitement. “oh absolutely. maybe i can bring charles and alex along and you can bring lando and logan.”

oscar wanted the ground to just swallow him up. he could probably shout i love you at you while staring directly into your eyes and you’d think he’s talking to someone behind you. one time in f2, he wrote all his feelings for you in a note and gave it to you only for you to hand it straight to robert without even glancing at it thinking he just wanted for you to pass it along. another time, he spent hours and hours trying to gather the courage to wrap his arm around your shoulder only for you to grinned up at him and wrap your arm around logan’s shoulder thinking he’d just wanted the three of you to huddle around. oscar is running out of ideas if he’s being honest.

“that sounds…fun, but i was hoping, maybe, it could just be — you know, the two of us. like old times,” he manages to let out.

“poor oscar,” lando says as he, charles, max and lewis watch your interaction.

“oscar should just kiss her already,” max said.

charles cackled at that, shaking his head. “she’d probably think it’s a friendly kiss.”

“maybe he just needs to shake her shoulder and scream im stupidly in love with you right on her face,” lewis joked as they kept watching the two of you.

oscar watched as you let go of his arm, leaning onto the railing for the parade. you seem to take your precious time twisting the cup of your water bottle open and torturing oscar at the way your throat constricted as you drank water before you turned back to him with a smile. “yeah, sure, osc. i’d love that.”

oscar returned back to the group of boys with a dopey smile on his face, high off of you as lando slapped him on the shoulder in a small congratulations.

charles couldn’t help but laugh at the look of the younger driver. “y/n’s broken him, i think.”

—

logan tried to contain his amusement as his australian best friend fell on his hotel room’s couch with his face buried in his hands, groaning in frustration and looking red in the face. oscar wore a loose white button up with a dark pair of jeans. he’d even worn his nice shoes for the occasion, wanting to be as presentable as possible as he picked you up from your hotel room to see you in the prettiest sundress in the most beautiful shade of blue that contrasted perfectly with your skin.

the two of you ate and laughed and walked around with you holding on to his arm as oscar gathered the courage all night to tell you how he felt.

“and then what happened?” logan asked as oscar groaned, frustratedly running his hands through his hair.

“i told her i love her,” he muttered to himself and you smiled at him with that beautiful smile of yours.

“that’s great, osc!” logan tried to cheer him up, clapping him on the back as he remained hunched over the couch. “what did she say?”

that seems to be a sore spot as oscar only groaned louder, petulantly kicking his shoes off. he can’t quite fathom how such a perfect night turned to him crashing in his best mate’s room so he can vent.

“she said, and i quote ‘aw, osc. i love you too. you’re one of my best friends.’ and then i just about died on the spot.”

logan winced at that, his hand now rubbing on oscar’s shoulder in comfort. “well, maybe next time the wording should be ‘i’m in love with you’?”

but oscar only groaned again. “this is a lost cause. best friend? is that all i am?” oscar starts his rant. “am i just one the many best friends in her life? will we drift apart after we both retire? at this point, i’d count myself lucky if i ever get invited to her wedding. maybe if i want to push my luck, i could be the fucking godfather of her kids.”

and logan only winced again because he never even thought someone could be that clueless and oblivious.

—

“you look beautiful, y/n,” oscar tells you as he passes you by the media pen, ignoring the cameras and lando’s knowing grin.

“thanks, osc. you look quite handsome yourself.” a dust of pink covers your cheeks as you smile at him, hand reaching to squeeze his lightly as you pass him by, being led by your pr team.

for a moment, oscar freezes on the spot, unable to stop the way all his blood rushed to his cheeks and the smile that stretched across his lips.

“mate, pull yourself together,” lando teases, pushing oscar forward to get him out of what lando dubs as the ‘y/n l/n induced lovesick daze’.

a reporter who’d seen the entire interaction couldn’t help but laugh as she said; “y/n truly is quite a sight, isn’t she?”

oscar didn’t think his cheeks could get anymore red as he nodded. “she always has been the most beautiful girl.”

lando playfully rolled his eyes as he and oscar continued on. if he was being honest with himself, even he is getting tired with the constant pining between you and oscar. the boy could scream at the top of his lungs how in love he is with you and you’d still think it’s all platonic. this entire thing was getting a bit too pitiful for both of your friends to watch.

which is why charles and lando have taken it upon themselves to finally force you to see what’s right in front of you. oscar loved you too much to even think about putting you in any form of uncomfortable situation even if it comes at his own expense, thankfully for lando and charles, they don’t share the same sentiment and so the two got to planning.

it was simple enough really. lando grabbed oscar by his collar, dragging him all over the paddock towards the ferrari motorhome.

“lando,” oscar whined behind him. “what the fuck are you doing?”

“trust me, mate, this is for your own good,” said his teammate, ignoring all the cameras that had gathered around them, following along.

“can’t you at least let me walk on my own?” oscar complained again, hunched over as lando quite literally dragged him by his mclaren shirt’s collar.

lando shook his head. “nope. i legitimately cannot handle this not going the way it’s meant to again.”

in the distance, both mclaren boys heard you voice your complaints to charles as your teammate held you on the shoulder to keep you in place, a group of mechanics and engineers huddle around the two of you, watching in curiosity,

finally, lando let go of oscar, allowing him to stand properly as the younger boy threw a glare at him while fixing his shirt. then he found himself face to face with you, confusion all over your face as it finally dawned on him what this is all about.

“oscar?” you asked, looking between him and lando along with the group that had accumulated on their way to ferrari. “what are you all doing here?”

lando and charles folded their arms over their chest as charles motioned towards the two of you. “we figured the only way for you to finally get it is if there’s an audience.”

“get what?” you asked again and oscar, palms already sweating in front of you and looking as though he’d rather get struck by lightning awkwardly cleared his throat.

“well get on to it, oscar,” lando says though his accent makes oscar’s name sound like oscah and oscar almost wanted to punch him there and then.

again, oscar awkwardly cleared his throat as you finally face him. “y/n, i have to tell you something.”

you motioned for him to continue. “okay. what is it, osc?”

“i don’t know how else to tell you this without being upfront about it so—”

“what’s going on here?” and at the moment, fred vasseur stepped into the scene, confusion all over his face as he found practically half the paddock inside his motorhome, all of them crowding around you and oscar.

everyone groaned, charles threw his hands up in frustration and lando wanted to bang his head against the table. “fred, you’re my boss, but please stop talking.”

fred was just about to say something else when charles physically dragged him to his side to shut him up.

you turned back to oscar, encouraging him to keep talking even though you would have preferred more privacy.

“i like you a lot,” he finally blurts out. “ever since f3. no, way before that. ever since karting.”

you smile at him kindly. “i like you too, oscar. i told you, you’re one of my best friends—”

every one groaned, cutting you off and oscar shook his head.

“no, y/n. you don’t get it. i don’t just like you. i’m very much in love with you,” he emphasized, remembering logan’s words about wording it properly as he took her hand in his shaky ones. “like…i want to spend my life with you kind of in love with you.”

you eyes widened in surprise and a part of oscar had thought that maybe you were just in complete denial the entire time but he realized now that you truly, absolutely had no idea about his feelings. he doesn’t know which one is worse if he’s being honest with himself.

“well, why didn’t you tell me, osc?” you ask gently.

“love,” he starts softly, the nickname effortlessly rolling off his tongue. “i can’t count anymore how many times i’ve told you and how many times i’ve tried to tell you and how many times i tried to show you.”

“i never noticed.” for a moment, you seem completely dumbfounded and he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips at the adorable way your mouth parted in surprised. you’re adorable, beautiful, gorgeous and every other adjective even if you unintentionally made his life hell the past few years.

“that’s alright,” he reassures you.

you couldn’t help but smile shyly at him as you squeezed his hand. “well, if it makes a difference, i’m very much in love with you as well. like…i want to spend the rest of my life with you kind of in love.”

at that, he laughed again, pulling you towards him as your lips crashed together.

and everyone fucking cheered at that.

general tag list: @ricsaigaslec @dragon-of-winterfell @coffeehurricanes @rdtbattinson @privcherry7 @miniminescapist @sebsdaniel @strelcka @writing-about-current-obsessions @amsofftrack @lostinketterdam @bisexual-desi @cialovessirlewis @multilovebot @lovelynikol16 @troybolton-14 @ohthemissery @dr3lover @myescapefromthislife @sunf1owerrq @the6ccnsp6cyy @t-nd-rfoot @navixfr @xjval @gridbunny @sunf1ower16 @lord-sharl-perceval @callsign-scully @saturnsrinqs @darleneslane @nmw-am @stopeatread

let me know if you guys want to be added to the general tag list or a specific driver's tag list or even if you want to be removed from the tag list because i get how annoying consistently getting tagged is.

#f1 x reader #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fluff #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 #formula 1 #f1 one shot

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dotster001 · 7 months

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When You Escape Him...

Summary: Yandere Heartslaybul boys x gn!reader. He adopts a child that looks like the two of you. You run to give you both a chance at life. You never expected him to find you years later.

CW: Yandere, baby trapping through adoption, kidnapping, allusions to past abuse, drugging, injury to reader (Cater's part), manipulation

Savanaclaw Octavinelle Scarabia Pomefiore Ignihyde Diasomnia Non NRC Staff

Three years into your relationship, he had come home and placed a baby in your arms.

"They were left in a box, all alone. And, well, he looks like if the two of us had a child," he sheepishly stared at the ground. "I just, I just figured it must be a gift from the seven."

You knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to tie himself to you through this boy. He looked just like him, and you were disgusted and scared.

Until he opened his eyes for the first time, and you found yourself staring into your own.

And you knew. You had to give this child the opportunity for a better life. A life without him.

In the end, your son did the opposite of what he had intended. And the first moment you could, the two of you had escaped.

Your son's hair was as red as his "father's". He was the spitting image of him. He was only five, yet the resemblance was so strong, there were moments where you would be filled with terror. But then you'd see your eyes staring back at you, and you'd calm down.

Despite the resemblance, he was a sweet, innocent thing. You didn't even think he was capable of anger. So easy going. So mellow. Sevens, you loved your boy.

But that sweet nature could cause trouble sometimes.

You were scrolling through your phone, trying to find an odd job so that you could pay the rent. Sunset Savannah rent was low, but still. When you were trying to stay off the grid, and moved every couple months, money was hard to come by.

Your son entered the room, smiling brightly.

"There's a man at the door who wants to talk to you. He says it's important."

"Baby, I told you not to open the door without me. It's dangerous." And also inconvenient. You'd rather your landlord not know you were home.

"I'm sorry," his lower lip quivered, and you quickly wrapped him in a hug.

"It's alright, love, just don't do it again. Stay here, I'll go talk to him."

You left him on the sofa. And went to the door that your son had left open. You put on a strained smile, and prepared to greet your landlord.

"Sorry for the wait-" you cut yourself off as icy terror filled your veins. Your eyes met Riddles, and you prepared for the worst. The shouting. The beheading. And if he was in his worst mood, his staff would come into play. Which, considering you'd escaped him for five years, he was definitely in a worse mood.

You'd been so careful! Had you gotten sloppy? Complacent? You didn't think you had. You knew Riddle had the money to pursue you, but you had hoped that since you had escaped the country, you would be past his sphere of influence.

You continued to stare, gritting your teeth for what was to come, but you were immediately shocked as he released a sob, and wrapped his arms around you, his tears soaking your shirt.

"I thought I'd lost you forever," he whispered, his grip tightening so much that you thought he was trying to break your ribs.

"Please don't cry, it's okay!"

Oh, your sweet boy. Your poor sweet baby boy.

Riddle pulled away, and crouched to your son's level.

"I'm your father."

Your son's eyes widened. You'd tried to make the idea of two parents a foreign concept, but children had a way of talking. So the idea that he had a second parent, who came for him, made his eyes sparkle in delight.

Riddle scooped him up in his arms, and turned to go.

"Let's go home," he whispered, and the final piece of hope you'd been sustaining finally died.

You'd gotten forgetful.

A large family like the Clover's, all of whom had chocolate centers, would have a large network of acquaintance's.

Even out here, in the middle of the countryside, it wasn't outside the realm of possibility.

As you were realizing now. All it would take was one person to recognize the "oldest Clover's missing spouse" and then it would be over.

And your son…he looked like a Clover, even if he wasn't one biologically. One peek at him, it would be over, again.

As you realized now that you'd clearly fallen into a trap.

Your new neighbor had invited you and your son for tea. And you were so tired. So tired of running, of not having roots, that you had agreed. What could go wrong with a tea party?

Everything.

You entered the room, and there he was, already seated at the table. Giving you a very disappointed look.

"Thank you, Meredith. Can we have a moment alone?"

Your son wasn't old. But a ten year old like him was smart enough to see the resemblance between himself and the man before him. Even if it was a coincidence.

You had intended to tell him the truth about his "father" in a year or two.

But now he'd never believe you. With the warm smile on Trey's face as he opened his arms, your son would never believe the relationship was built on manipulation and perfectly hidden drugs. Someone with a smile as warm as Trey's would never do anything like that.

Your son ran into his arms, happily explaining about how happy he was to finally meet "daddy".

Meanwhile, Trey stared at you, his eyes cold as he held your son tighter.

"Y/N," he finally said, his voice firm in the way that told you he was out of patience. "Drink your tea."

You stared at the pretty porcelain cup that sat waiting on the table. You had guesses of what would happen if you drank it. It would all be over. Ten years of hiding for nothing. But he had your son. It wasn't like you could go anywhere.

Your feet felt like they were weighed down with concrete blocks as you walked over to the cup, sat, and brought it to your lips with trembling fingers.

The black invading your vision was almost immediate, and you heard Trey explaining to your son, "An evil man stole you both from me. Their medicine will make them sleepy, but when they wake up we can finally be a family."

You didn't even have a phone. You changed your hair every few months. You wore a mask in public. Because you knew the second a photo of you made its way onto the internet, it would be over.

Your son had wanted a phone when he was about ten. And you'd been able to push it off until he reached thirteen, when you'd say him down and told him about the man who wanted to be his father.

He was young, but when he heard how this man hurt you, and took you away from the people you loved, he understood quickly.

Your boy was smart. And he was a responsible kid. So he never asked for a phone again.

He was fifteen now. He was a smart boy, and very protective over you. He always joked that if he and Cater were ever in the same room, he'd punch him in the stomach.

The two of you were at the store, getting groceries. You saw a flash of ginger hair out of the corner of your eye, but told yourself it was just your son's hair. The second and third ginger flashes were harder to ignore.

You shared a look with your son, and made a rush to the exit.

...Unfortunately, running straight into a crowd of ginger hair. Multiple Caters pinned you both down, pressing rags to your mouths, making you sleep.

When you woke up, you found yourself tied to a chair in a dark room.

"You're up."

His voice was far more bitter than you were used to, but you'd recognize it anywhere.

Cater stood from the corner he was seated in, and made his way over to you. A loud crack filled the room, and you didn't quite realize what had happened until your cheek began to sting, and you met his furious eyes as he shook with rage.

No matter what was wrong with your relationship, he had never laid a hand on you.

"You promised me!" He screamed. "You promised I wouldn't have to be alone anymore!"

Another crack filled the room, and your cheek began to feel numb.

"We were supposed to be a family, Y/N! The three of us, together! And you turned him against me!"

He raised his hand to slap you again, but froze with a sob. He collapsed burying his face in your lap as he sobbed.

"Why? Why do you both hate me? Am I not good enough?" He cried, his voice cracking and choking as he spoke. "I'll be better! I'll be whoever you need me to be!"

You could only imagine how the reunion with your son had gone if he was like this already. You hoped he was behaving, so the both of you could reunite and figure out how to escape.

But if the multiple pairs of emerald eyes watching Cater sob in your lap were anything to go by, you were never going to be alone ever again.

Once you'd crossed the border of the country, you hadn't expected to ever run into Ace again. It wasn't that he was poor, per say, it was just that he wouldn't have the means to search for you forever. Private investigators were expensive. And it wasn't like he actually cared.

At least that's how it felt. After one day of having your son, he admitted he was already bored, he just wanted to tie you to him. And he had told you every day of your relationship that he you were only together because he felt bad that you would never have anyone else who cares about you.

The longer you were away from him, the more your brain cleared, the more you realized that he probably did care. Quite a lot. But it was the tactic he used to make you dependent on him.

You were embarrassed by how well it had worked….

Your son was college aged now. He had received an invitation to NRC, but had turned it down in favor of protecting you. You were so grateful, and had worked with a friend who knew your situation to get him into a university without being able to tie it back to you.

You currently lived alone in your apartment. This evening, you were reading a book that your son had recommended, as you ate a basic dinner. There was a knock on the door, and you gently put your bookmark in.

You opened the door to three officers…one of them you unfortunately recognized.

"Deuce," you pleaded, and he looked everywhere but you.

"I'm sorry Y/N, I really am," he cleared his throat, and in his official voice. "Y/N Trappola. You have been missing for nineteen years. You must come with me for questioning."

There would be no questioning. He'd take you back, and drop you off with Ace. The wording was just in case one of your neighbors came to see what was going on.

The trip was long. And Deuce had tried to get you to tell him where your boy was. A sign that Ace actually cares, despite his cruel words.

He'd eventually dug through your phone, and figured out who he was based on your messages back and forth. He'd called him, and given him an address to come meet you at.

"Remember when you were my friend too?" You spat at Deuce. It hurt him, you could tell, but you wanted it to hurt as much as you would inevitably hurt once you were back with Ace.

You happened to both arrive at the house at the same time. Your son looked between you and, at least to him, the unknown officer, but kept his mouth shut.

The three of you walked up to the door together in silence. Deuce knocked on the door, and it was only a moment before he opened it.

He laughed hysterically. "Oh seven, you really found them! I can't believe you actually did it!"

He grinned at your son.

"Hah! You look just like your old man."

Your son growled. "You're not my old man."

"Hee hee, you're feisty like me too!" Ace grinned. Then he turned to you, affecting a look that was saying 'I'm not mad just disappointed'.

"Y/N," he said, his tone a threat in itself. "I'm sure you know how upset I am with you. How are you gonna make it up to me?"

Your son pulled his pen, but Ace was faster, throwing a painless stun spell at him.

He shook his head in mock disappointment.

"You really raised him all wrong, didn't you Y/N? Oh well, I guess I don't mind fixing both of you."

You'd thought once you crossed the border, you'd be safe. You hadn't realized that Deuce would have made friends in his time as an officer, and could use those connections to find you.

To your credit, you'd made it awhile before his investigator colleague had found the two of you.

But you'd hoped you could hide forever. Five years felt like nothing.

You'd paid your neighbor to watch your son while you went out for groceries, and were startled to see her not with him.

"Hm? Oh, his father relieved me of duty," she laughed, until she saw the distress on your face.

"Y/N?"

You ran to your apartment, practically busting the door down. You found Deuce sitting with your sleeping son, staring at him as though he would disappear if he looked away.

"Hey Y/N," he hummed, still not looking at you. "What did I do wrong?"

The question floored you. It was on brand. He never knew what he was doing wrong with your relationship. Which made it easy for you to forgive him early on. But you couldn't ignore how he was hurting you forever.

"Deuce. Give him to me."

You slowly approached him like you'd approach a wild dog.

"Was it something I said?" He looked up at you with heartbroken eyes. "I didn't mean to. I promise I'll be better."

He stood up, and approached you.

"Come home, Y/N. We can start over."

You couldn't risk triggering his delinquent mode while he was holding your sleeping son. And it wasn't like you could hide again, not without leaving the sleeping angel behind.

And you didn't doubt that this time he'd do whatever was in his power to catch you if you ran.

"Give me my son," you whispered.

"Our son," he said firmly, and you froze, breathing deeply to try and calm him down.

"Our son," you repeated softly. You held out your hands, and he scrutinized you with a cold look.

"No. I'll hold on to him," he said, shifting away from you. "I just can't trust you anymore."

Normally, you'd have snapped at him that you could never trust him. But he had the advantage.

"Please, Deucey," you simpered, hoping his affection for you could still cloud his judgment.

"I'll think about it when we get home," he said with a soft smile. He stood up, and walked over to you, nuzzling your noses together.

"C'mon,Y/N, let's go home," he calmly walked out with your son in his arms. What else could you do but follow?

#yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere riddle x reader #yandere trey clover #yandere trey clover x reader #yandere cater diamond #yandere cater x reader #yandere ace trappola #yandere ace x reader #yandere deuce spade #yandere deuce x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere

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star-anise · 27 days

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are we talking about broke therapists yet?

I've been out of things for a couple of years now, which is why I'm willing to talk about it, and maybe the pandemic has helped things a little, but holy shit the counselling and psychotherapy field is not equipped to help its practitioners in the gig economy.

Of all my interests and talents, I pursued a degree in psychology because being a therapist is supposed to be a safe, stable, well-paid job. Every therapist I met who was registered before 2008 worked and lived under that assumption. And oh boy are all the fee structures--registration, supervision, continuing education, conferences--set up for that scenario.

After getting my Master's, I struggled like hell to get a job. It was especially bad because to get my license, I needed a supervisor to take me on. To take me on, most supervisors wanted me to already have a caseload and client base. To get a caseload and client base, I needed a job.

Friends: Every single job I heard back on wanted me to have my license before I could even land an interview.

Professors and career advisors and professional development specialists all advised me very earnestly to just keep cold-calling people on the supervision list, and it began to feel a lot like my parents' friends telling me to hit the bricks and hand out resumes. That's what worked for them, right?

I finally got a supervisor who agreed to take me on, and I'd be able to use her clinic for advertising and workspace, and we were doing the paperwork to send in with my registration, when she called me up and said, "Is this job going to be your only source of income? If you're trying to depend on getting clients and building your practice for your basic needs, this is not going to work out. This has to be something you're doing on top of a basic salary. Okay, so you're not working anywhere else right now? I'm sorry, I can't move forward with this."

Even once I landed a supervisor and a job building my own private practice, I struggled. I have ADHD and am not great at self-promotion, so trying to do all my own advertising, scheduling, bookkeeping, billing, and records management (on top of counselling) was an enormous strain. One my bosses, supervisors, and other senior professionals watched with a slightly critical eye, but consoled me about because in their early days, their clinics had had business managers, receptionists, filing clerks, and accountants, and getting used to doing everything online yourself was a bit of a learning curve, wasn't it?

I counted my pennies very carefully, because I had to pay my supervisor roughly $180 for their services every 6 hours of in-person counselling I did. This meant that to break even I had to charge my clients an average of about $30 (plus room rental and service fees) an hour--and my clients, being people with complex trauma, were frequently poor, disabled, unemployed, and had no health benefits, so even $10 or $20 a session was a lot for them.

Maybe it would have been easier if I could have taken some of those nice comfortable organization positions where they find clients and funding for you and you work 40 hours a week and get benefits and a pension, but I had to be disabled into the bargain, so working 40 hours a week just isn't possible for me. I start passing out from stress and exhaustion. Older colleagues gave me serious-faced advice about approaching my employer and asking them for some flexibility and accommodation in my schedule, and I tried to explain across the gap between us that employers simply did not hire me if I made the slightest noise about the workload. They weren't going to invest in me as a person; they were hiring 40 units of work a week, and if I wouldn't do it there were a dozen applicants after me who would.

At one point I broke down enough to email my licensing body because the Annual General Meeting/Professional Development Conference was coming up, and I wanted to attend, but I could not produce $500 to do it with. Was there some kind of way I could attend anyway? I felt ashamed to have to ask, and then absolutely mortified when the response came from the organization president, who needed to personally sign off on me being too poor to attend the single most important event in my profession's calendar year.

I honestly felt so ashamed all the time at how I was apparently failing to be a successful therapist, failing to be rich and successful, and every time I mentioned it around mentors and bosses, I could feel myself shrinking from a person to a problem to be solved. My closest therapist-friends and I have reflected on how much more difficult, poorly-paid and underworked, our various career starts have been than we were ever warned about. About the classmates and coworkers who couldn't get disability exceptions when they fell behind in their registration requirements, or burned out and left the field, or dropped their registrations and took up as life coaches, or moved their whole family somewhere exceptionally remote or rural because it was the only good job available, or worked for some godforsaken app skirting the bounds of malpractice like BetterHelp.

I like those conversations, because I feel less like an absolute fuck-up in them. There's less "Hey Lis, you were so talented in grad school, I really admired you, what are you doing now?" "Oh, I, uh... am professionally disabled, so I get government benefits, and I... sell embroidery patterns on Etsy now."

My own therapist kept asking if and when I felt like going back to being a counsellor, and I finally told him: I don't, actually. I don't want to go back and do it like I was doing it before. It was a profession I loved to the depths of my soul, and it profoundly did not love me back. I can't even imagine what would have to change, in me or it, to make it have a space in it that could fit me.

All of which I was way too scared to admit to at the time, because the more I let people know I was struggling, the more they hinted that maybe I just wasn't in a place in my life where this was a job I could do, and I needed to take a little break and wait to come back until money and disability just weren't issues for me anymore.

Eventually my cups of doubt and exhaustion did overflow, and I quit. I'm here now, living a much different life. And at the very least, all my years of helping people in bad life situations set me up perfectly for my own. I already knew what form to fill out for financial assistance, which student clinics to access for mental health support, and which government agency would, if pressed, cough out pharmacy coverage for the genuinely destitute. It gave me that much.

I hope this is just me being in extraordinary circumstances, sitting at the intersections of a few different shitty life situations that most people skip right past. Because it's on one level comforting, but another deeply infuriating, if I'm not, and I've just missed it or we've just all been too afraid to admit it to each other.

#staranise original #therapisting

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highvern · 1 month

Text

Waited

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader

Genre: smut (18+)

warnings: mentions of mental health/poor self image, drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, cheating, violence (nothing explicit), oral, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, degrading, spanking, marking, jealous Yoongi, rip Namjoon, bi Taehyung

Length: ~4.2k

Note: this originally was gonna be a short FWB smut but alas nothing turns out like i plan hahahahahahahahah shoot me thank you @the-boy-meets-evil and @onlyhuis for subjecting yourselves to this mess.

Summary: Best friends since childhood means you can tell each other anything. Right?

m.list + support my work

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Yoongi enters your world three days before you turn six years old. His parents buy the house across the cul de sac that's sat empty for months and show up with a moving truck and their two sons. While they're unpacking your mom walks over to welcome them to the neighborhood and you hide behind her leg to stare at the boy with a choppy bowl cut who stares right back from behind his own mom’s leg.

You dub Yoongi your best friend in fourth grade. It’s a silent declaration but one he quickly falls in line with. He’d always been the smallest in class, easy cannon fodder for bullies that want to push around the quiet kid. One time too many people called him stupid under their breath and you snapped. After school detention for three weeks and a handwritten apology addressed to the boy with a broken nose is the price you pay but no one messes with him again after that.

The first time you realize your best friend is handsome is senior year of high school. An hour before prom your date decided he wanted to go with someone else and Yoongi, who had zero interest in “cliche, organized humiliation rituals” trugged across the pavement to your house in a borrowed tux too big in the shoulders.

He posed for pictures while both your parents cooed, hands respectable at your waist as you both smiled through the awkwardness. His brother drops you both off and slips a contraband flask full of shitty alcohol in Yoongi’s hand before taking off.

You pretended not to notice when Jisung and Yoongi both simultaneously disappeared, only to reappear twenty minutes later; Yoongi sporting bruised knuckles and the traces of what would become a black eye come the next morning along with a split lip. Instead, you take another sip of what must be gasoline and pull him to the dance floor. During the singular slow dance he allotted, with your head against his shoulder and the reak of his older brother’s after shave burning your nose, you realized you wouldn’t mind if he kissed you.

The rest of the night is spent emptying your guts in Yoongi’s ensuite because your parents were so confident nothing would happen between the two of you that sleepovers at Yoongi’s were too common.

The first time you kiss Yoongi is also the night you lose your virginity. Your sophomore year boyfriend broke up with you two days before finals. Yoongi couldn’t stand Taehyung or the way you apparently believed he shit rainbows so you expected him to find nothing but joy in the news.

But when you showed up outside his apartment, elephant tears streaking down your face as you gasped around an explanation, Yoongi said nothing. He simply walked into the kitchen, pulled out the bottle of liquor he saved for special occasions, and passed it to you along with a shot glass.

He let your drunken sobs stain the collar of his shirt until you laughed yourself hysterical at the irony of it all. How Taehyung claimed he wasn’t ready for anything serious when he pursued you first, how he broke up with you after you told him you weren’t ready for anything physical.

“Fuck him,” Yoongi grumbled, burrowed between the pillows of his bed.

Your head lulled onto his shoulder with a snort, “I think that was part of the problem.”

Then you kissed him and Yoongi kissed you back. And when you planted yourself in his lap and touched him, he took the chance to touch you too. At some point your clothes were gone, allowing your best friend to take as much liberty as he liked. But even though the details are fuzzy you know he was gentle and devout. Yoongi took all the time in the world, pushing and pushing until you almost broke and melted to the floor.

And after all was said and done you cried while Yoongi held you until your eyes swelled shut.

The next day Taehyung called and asked to work things out. Like a naive fool you agreed and then two years passed in a blink before you caught him fucking the doe eyed underclassmen from his fraternity the night of graduation.

You wanted Yoongi but the last time you ran crying to him about Taehyung sat in the back of your mind. Since that day he’d taken a step back, missing your calls or dodging plans. Still your best friend but not present like before. Half your own fault because he warned you getting back with Taehyung was a bad idea but rather than listen, you told him to fuck off and mind his business. So he did and managed to get a girlfriend in the process.

But the universe has a weird way of shoving people together. Sipping from a bottle on the steps to the should-be-condemned house you rented with six other girls, eyes glassy and unfocused, you didn’t realize someone was calling your name until he sat down beside you.

“I heard,” Yoongi says, snagging your drink and downing his own mouthful before going back for seconds.

Your lips bruise under your teeth, the pain barely managing to consume your focus away from the new wave of tears threatening to crop up. “That I’m an idiot?”

Cold hands find the blanket wrapped around your shoulders, pulling it back up in the places it's dropped before curling around your frame and wrangling you into the boney side of his.

“That Taehyung is still an asshole.”

It's too familiar. Your hands tangled in the fabric of his shirt, his neck wet with your cries. Yoongi barely managed to get you upstairs and in bed without fuss, a plethora of pathetic cries none of your roommates are around to hear blurring your vision.

“Where’s Tiffany?” You ask, fumbling into the mattress. You’ll ask him anything to get your mind of the hurt.

Yoongi fought to tuck you in, shoving you back into the pillows everytime you tried to get up and attempted to convince him to go to the bars where your classmates are currently celebrating. Where Taehyung is probably strung out across whoever will give him the time of day.

He lets you pull him into a hug when a new wave of sadness erupts. It’s the first time you get a good look at him in months despite the blur in your vision. Silver in the streetlights flooding through the slits of the blinds, the dark dye he used to appease his mom washing out at the fried tips of his hair. Any more to drink and you’d convince yourself this is all some cruel dream. A ghost of the past haunting you in misery.

Yoongi might as well be. Nearly two years gone from the face of the Earth, only to be caught in short glimpses at parties or between class changes. Both of you spent the time reserved for each other with new people.

You missed him.

He turns to leave too soon; already halfway to the door before you speak.

“Stay?”

Even in your double vision you see the crack in Yoongi’s mask, the regret swelling to the surface. “She’s waiting back at my place.”

The summer comes with the suffocating muggy heat of your childhood home. Your parents fail to stifle their thrill Taehyung is out of the picture, more content to pretend he never existed in the first place.

Everyday blurs together, a routine you’ve maintained since you can remember. Hot days by the pool in your parents backyard (without Yoongi hiding in the shade), dinner at the greasy restaurant by the river with friends (but not Yoongi), and packing your room one last time (which holds too many memories of Yoongi).

The news comes from your mom.

She probes for information about the last time you heard from your neighbor turned friend turned stranger, complaining she misses having him around like when you were kids, asking what he’s been up to lately. It’s evident by your short response you haven’t heard yet.

He’s on the dilapidated swing set in his parents backyard when you find him. Shoulders slumped, toeing in the dirt, while he gazes beyond the treeline.

Silently, you take a seat in the second swing, ignoring the way the wood creaks under your weight. Without a word he hands you his phone. The screen is bright with the last messages.

Tiffany: you just seem to have a lot going on…

Tiffany: i don’t know if I can handle all of it

You hand back the device. There's nothing to say. Cursing her till you’re blue in the face won’t make him feel better and neither will platitudes. Yoongi won’t believe anything contrary to what she said, at least not right now when he’s reeling from a blow to his most vulnerable parts.

So you sit in silence until the moon swells in the sky. He isn’t ready to talk about it when you both fumble down to his parents basement. Or when he hits the Rick and Morty bong Seokjin bought him for Secret Santa years ago. Definitely not when he tries to kiss you and you let him. And not when you end up in his lap, both naked and fighting to detach from what exists beyond the tattered upholstery of the couch.

Yoongi finally speaks hours later, shoulder to shoulder in the comforting murky darkness of his room. You both still have the heated glow of bare skin sticking together where you touch but it turns clammy when he spills his guts.

He told her those three words after meeting her parents the week before. The first girl you’ve ever seen him be serious about. She said them back but Yoongi didn’t believe her. And the proof he was right sits immortalized in texts messages.

Each word cuts like a knife. Admitting his hurt, his vulnerabilities and weaknesses before shifting the focus to something safer like your break up from May and if Taehyung has tried anything.

He softens when your lips crest his shoulder. The lingering franticness fades with each peck as you move across his chest, then his throat, then his lips. Because you know Yoongi wants to talk about this once and never again. Needs to put it behind him before it becomes too real.

You leave for the city two weeks later and Yoongi follows after managing to snag a shitty IT job. He spends more time at your apartment than his own and when the girl you met through a roommate group moves out, Yoongi moves in.

Maybe it becomes too common of an occurrence. What was once reserved as an escape from the crushing weight of rejection, a way to find comfort in each other more than before, turned into a quick fix at the slightest annoyance. When you’re too pent up or Yoongi had a hard day. If you were feeling insecure after another failed date, or he simply wanted an easy lay with someone who knew how to get him off without the awkward pauses of learning.

Now, Yoongi bends you over the counter at three in the morning, lapping at your cunt like he didn’t have you sitting on his face before leaving for Namjoon's apartment to pre-game. The dig of the marble edge in your ribs is less alluring than the comfort of your bed; but what Yoongi wants he more often than not gets, so how do you refuse when he shuffles you into an Uber with hunger in his gaze and possessiveness in the grip on your thigh.

“Yoongi,” you sigh. Reaching back, one of your hands anchors in the short tufts of his hair, pressing him firmer into the ache of your pussy.

The tug of the cool counter top against your nipples works in his favor, leaving you desperate with a hitch in your throat each time you rock back into his waiting tongue. It dips into your opening, wedged between his fingers that dig into your walls just right after years of practice. Yoongi knows how to push all your buttons, he’s sewed half of them on.

Your forehead meets the marble on the next swell of his tongue except this time is across your ass and punctuated with a bite you’ll feel next time you sit. A harsh clench around his fingers grants you sinful drag of his tongue across the hole only ever explored by him.

“Fuc–Yoongi!”

Sloppy kisses follow your spine until he’s at your ear with his cock resting against the meat of your ass. You're bent back at the waist once again so he can pluck at your nipples the way he likes, until you're shuddering away and pleading for mercy in a way meant to spur him further.

“Bet Namjoon wouldn’t do this,” Yoongi grunts with a tease of his cock inside, bare.

He’ll never let you forget the semester of freshman year you drooled for his friend's dick while Namjoon remained none the wiser. Every unconscious shut down sent Yoongi into a sadistic fit of laughter until you cut your losses and called it quits.

You know why he’s bringing it up now. Namjoon looked good tonight. Newly single with a buzzcut that ruined most men’s allure. Maybe you contemplated re-igniting the old flame when he first showed up but now there's history and comradery that didn't exist in your younger days and it's too complicated just for the chance to satiate your curiosity. They’re all the same reasons you shouldn’t be fucking your best friend since grade school but none of it seems to have the same weight.

It didn’t matter what you decided because Yoongi saw enough temptation in your gaze to bring it up like he isn’t the one fucking you regularly.

Your pants fog across the marble. “Should we call and find out?”

His palm stings into your ass, heating the skin on impact. The opportunity to neg him into another smack passes too quickly. You’re already at the mercy of Yoongi’s mouth on yours, the taste of whiskey, stale cigarettes, and your pussy less than appealing but his tongue is hot when he licks behind your teeth.

A hand takes up the work between your legs, rough and rushed as you trapeze down the hallway towards the bedroom. Yoongi thumbs at your clit with intent. You nearly collapse against the wall with buckled knees from the onslaught of too much stimulation.

Breaching the bedroom door proves too much a struggle. Yoongi bounces off the door jam from a rough grope against his zipper which leaves you flailing before catching in the corner of the mattress. His room is too damn small for the king bed he insisted on but it makes for a great backdrop to your fucking. Miles better than the more practical queen hidden in your room further down the hall.

You manage to push him off long enough to dig your knees into the sheets, crawling to the pillows with an arch you know he’ll rib you for later.

“Coming?” You ask over your shoulder, eyeing the flash of his boxers creeping through the opening of his zipper.

Flopping on your back, you splay across the over abundance of pillows like a queen while Yoongi works off his pants. His hair is a mess and a bruise the size of your mouth blooms high enough on his neck he’ll have to wear turtlenecks for the next two weeks. “Spread your legs.”

“Do you one better.” It's a goad in the most obvious sense. He likes to watch you huff, failing to get yourself off until he intervenes and gives exactly what you need. So you throw your legs wide, bent at the knees just to make it clearer in the faint light spilling from the window, and sink a hand down and play with the mess he caused. “Mmmm, Yoongi.”

“Finger it for me,” he drawls.

Muscles melt at the first pass inside your already battered walls. Not as deft as his fingers but you won’t tell him that unprompted. Yoongi’s ego is big enough when it comes to your sex life, fueled by the knowledge he’s collected many of your firsts. But the way he palms over his underwear in mimic of your rhythm tempts you to break that rule.

“Come here.”

Yoongi just smirks at the demand, pushing the mess of his pants off until he’s bare and the maroon head of his cock makes you drool. “You come here.”

“I’m not playing naked chicken.” You growl. “Come fuck me before I get my vibrator.”

Flipping on your front with your ass in the air, you drive a hard bargain Yoongi’s never been capable of saying no to. The bed dips behind you, knees between your own, shuffling them wider so he can stretch you until you’re pliant and aching.

His chest melts to your back, sticking uncomfortable but you don’t care because it feels good. Like he’s consuming you. “How bad do you want it?” Yoongi bites into your shoulder.

“Yoongi, fuck.” Your arms collapse under the first rush of his hips, spin dipping harshly to take every inch until he’s flat against your rear.

In a blink, you’re parallel to the mattress, pinned under his weight. It’s pathetic for so early in the game but Yoongi is the same man who gave you so many orgasms you’ve cried so it only stands to reason he crumbles your bravado like it's nothing.

Sniffling in his hold, you turn to nose at his cheek over your shoulder. “Please, fuck me.”

“Shit,” he spits with a harsh thrust. “You’re so fucking tight for me.”

The next press of his hips leaves you heaving. Your hands scramble when he cants a bruising pace against your ass. Hard. All while every noise he tries to hide sings straight into your ear.

With immense effort, you wiggle onto your back. Yoongi meets you with a kiss, tongue to tongue while he works back inside where you both need him most.

The callous of his palm rakes against your throat, not squeezing, just a possessive firmness.

“H-harder,” you beg, nails leaving crescents in his shoulder.

Yoongi hitches your thigh over his; slowing so he can fuck you deeper, crushing every noise hiding in your gut out.

Shocked from the sudden rush against your clit, your leg kicks out straight. It’ll leave you sore in the hips come morning but right now you don’t even register the discomfort. “Oh, oh, oh!”

“Like that?” Somehow he manages to drag the head of his cock deeper from the praise.

“Just like that,” you pant into his mouth.

He leans back to watch your decay into desperation but stops when you tug him back by the sensitive roots of his hair. Cracking open your eyes, you find his brown ones inches away. Forehead to forehead while you both synthesize into a heap of flushed skin and need.

Fingers intertwined, Yoongi pins your hand on the pillow. Then he stares. Not at your face as you crest the first wave of an orgasm but your fingers curled between his. Like he’s never done it before, like he doesn’t know exactly how you two got in this position.

“Oh my god, Yoongi.”

You cum hard. Nearly managing to drive him out from the force to your insides. Every muscle twisting tighter and tighter until it breaks and when you pull his mouth back to yours all you can do is shake under his lips with cracked mewls.

Yoongi might be shaking too but he swells inside you with a groan, collapsing into your neck before your brain catches up to consider the idea.

Dodging an attempt at a final kiss, he favors his lips on your throat. Fleeting wet pecks that get you choking on air. Then your breasts where he takes up his abandoned work on your nipples, teeth flashing across the sensitive peaks until your shoulders cave and you're desperate for him again; grinding into the fingers he’s so readily supplies.

He’s fucked you like this before. When he has something to prove to the non-existent entity constantly creeping on his subconscious, when he feels he isn’t good enough in some intangible way. Asking him what's wrong won’t do anything. Yoongi will tell you when he’s ready; if he ever is. Years of friendship and the fear you’ll see a part of him capable of scaring you away still eats him alive. So you’ll give him whatever reassurance he needs this way and hope he understands.

Your second orgasm comes faster than the first. Trails of the previous pleasure pushing you swiftly along. Yoongi latches his lips around your clit and sucks until spots flash and your thighs nearly crush his head.

“Fuck, Yoongi. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You cry, threatening to fold in half under his fingers. “G-gonna cum again.”

Flares of lightning in your blood explode. Throat raw from wailing, Yoongi works you through until you dig your ankle into his ribs and kick him off.

The cold air in the room helps cool your feverish skin unlike the dark haired man flopping next to you. It’s quiet around two sets of gasping breaths and the rain tapping at the window.

Shoulder to shoulder, you calm in the drum of the overhead fan. Yoongi’s fingers tangling and untangling with your own confirms your suspicion. Whatever he needs to tell you bubbles below the surface, swirling until he finds the safest words to share his feelings. There's no point in guessing but it doesn’t stop you from spiraling through the possibilities.

The major suspects lack any clear indication. His date last weekend ended with mutual disinterest. Nothing concerning his job registers in your vague memory. Both your parents were fine the last time you visited months ago. Yoongi’s nephew is fine—

“I told my mom you're my girlfriend.”

Well that's new. “Oh.”

“It was an accident but—”

“What’d she say?” You cut him off.

Yoongi hesitates. Your voice doesn’t betray disdain or hope, only reluctant curiosity. If you set too many expectations he’ll clam up and avoid you for months like when he lost his virginity at a party freshman year. Yoongi shares on his terms and you listen.

“That it was about time I got my head out of my ass.”

You wait for him to continue but he doesn’t. Yoongi’s palm slick against your own betrays his nerves, the ghost of squeeze begs for some kind of reassurance he isn’t crazy.

“Huh.” You exclaim to the ceiling. It’s not the worst idea. And its definitely not the first time you’ve entertained it.

He lets you go the second you tug on your connected hands, anticipating swift rejection that leaves you feeling sour. But you’re rolling into his chest, the now free hand protecting his sternum from the dig of your chin so you can stare him down until he finally blinks your way. You won’t let Yoongi wiggle away from this ten year overdue conversation.

“Is that what you want?”

The answer is clear in his eyes. Yoongi’s mouth rounds over the words to tell you, floundering silently because he’ll admit he isn’t good at things like this. But if it’s worth it to him then you need to hear him say it.

Rising up, you sit bare in his lap while he works through his nerves. Finally, when your hand cups his cheek and his eyes sink closed, leaning into the warmth, he tells you.

“That’s what I want.”

Your nose wrinkles with a shy smile. “Kinda cliche.”

Yoongi snorts when you kiss him but melts the cold facade swiftly.

“Yeah well,” he huff. “So is losing your virginity to your prom date but let's not talk about that.” Yoongi may spit the words but his hands, gentle where they trace the curve of your sides, betray his euphoria.

“We can talk about that too if you want.” You whisper into his jaw, lips prickling from the shadow growing there. “Prom me probably would have let you fuck her.”

“Yeah?”

You choke on a laugh at the pleased shock on his face. “Yeah, but not after that black eye came in.”

“Cheap fucking shot.” He grumbles under his breath, but you’re already there kissing the words from his lips. Yoongi indulges, melting further into the bed when his tongue timidly slips along yours. After you dip away to press more languid pecks where his cheeks round, he speaks again. “If I asked you out then what would you have said?”

“Well the only reason I said yes to whats-his-fuck was because someone else was too stubborn to ask me himself.” You hum in his ear. “Does that answer your question?”

You're on your back in a flash, pinned under your boyfriend who smiles as you flounder and fail to push him off.

“You need to be nicer to me,” he grunts when you knock out his arms and collapse his chest to yours.

“If you wanted someone nicer, then you had years to figure that out.”

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @lovelyhachi @sliceofwoozi

#kvanity #ksmutsociety #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi smut #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi angst #min yoongi #yoongi smut #yoongi fic #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #🫡 highvern

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moonpetrichors-blog · 1 year

Note

hiii! i love ur avatar writing and i was wondering if u could write something about neteyam x reader, where they're childhood best friends but then some na'vi guy start to show interest in the reader and neteyam gets all jealous and realize than maybe he's in love with them? idk if this make sense, english is not my first language, sorry :((

All Mine

Tags: Neteyam x Omaticaya!Reader, Aonung x Omaticaya!Reader (Only Slight), Fem!Reader, Childhood Friend Romance, Friends To Lovers, Jealousy, Anguished Declarations Of Love, Neteyam Loses His Cool For Once

Warnings: Neteyam Daydreaming About Punching Aonung LMAO

Neteyam was walking along the beach with his siblings when he spotted you, talking to the Olo'eyktan’s son. It had never crossed his mind before that you, his childhood best friend, would eventually find someone to romantically pursue. Was it wrong to realize he wanted you to himself, and not in the arms of another boy?

OMG IM SO OBSESSED W THIS IDEA!!! If theres one trope I love, its a jealous love interest 🤭 also, trust me when I say ur English is perfect!! Fun fact but English is also my second language and growing up I was ass at speaking it LMFAO so ur not alone 😭☠️

Yellow Hyacinth - Jealousy

* ˚ ✦ 1663 Words • Read below the cut

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-╰┈➤ ❝ [02/01/23] ❞

It had been roughly a week since you arrived on the Awa'atlu village's shoreline. When you initially arrived, the Olo'eyktan's son harassed you relentlessly.

There were many things he liked to call you. Freak, weirdo, dimwit, you name it.

There was nothing freak-like about you, per se, but the fact that you were from the forest made you a target to Aonung's bullying. What skills could a woodland girl teach sea people? It was dreadful that you had to hide among them in the first place.

Technically, you had no obligation to go into hiding with the Metkayina clan, but you felt as if the Omaticaya had nothing left for you when your childhood best friend, Neteyam, informed you that he and his family needed to flee.

When Neteyam initially told you that he had to abandon your clan, including you, you wailed into his arms as if he had just perished. You couldn't bear the thought of not being with Neteyam, even if it meant compromising your clan's safety.

The truth is, you overreacted so harshly because you’ve had feelings for Neteyam for years now. You’ve always been unsure if he reciprocated, but there were moments between the both of you where he’d send mixed signals; you didn’t know what shifted or when, but there was just something between you both that felt like you were more than just friends.

And now he wouldn’t be able to stay and see how your relationship would unfurl.

Maybe you were foolish to persuade Jake Sully into bringing you along, but he eventually agreed (albeit reluctantly), since you and his son made each other happy. Neteyam was pleased when you told him you were departing with him.

So there you were, well acquainted with the Metkayina, and accompanied by your dearest friend. Aside from Aonung's pestering, you could put up with it since you knew Neteyam would safeguard you.

However, the more time that you spent with the sea people, the more you began to suspect that it was only you who had detected something between you and Neteyam. You stopped sending hints, even if he overlooked them unintentionally, as it stung too much to persevere.

Aonung eventually stopped attempting to harass you, and you even developed a pleasant friendship with him. Tonowari, his father, had him apologize for his poor behavior; after that, he was actually fairly delightful to converse with.

This was your life now.

...

Neteyam sauntered along the coast, followed by Kiri and Lo'ak. He couldn't take his mind off you; were you safe? Was Aonung bothering you yet again? His father had chided him that he didn't need to be at your side all hours of the day, but he didn't quite understand why his father was amused when he talked about how Neteyam behaved with you. You were his best friend, of course he’s worried!

Regardless, Jake instructed him to keep an eye on his siblings, so he didn't have much of a choice in abandoning them and running to your rescue. Not with Lo'ak prowling behind him in search of trouble.

Neteyam maintained his walk, thinking to himself that he was exceedingly fortunate that you had left the clan for him, and although he wouldn't say it, he was overjoyed.

What he wasn't so thrilled with was how he'd discovered you'd grown closer to that jackass Aonung. You could talk to anybody you pleased, and he knew you were far too pure-hearted to entirely dismiss the Olo'eyktan's son, but why did he feel so bitter whenever he saw you together?

Speak of the devil.

Kiri pointed you out, but when she saw who you were with, she shuddered. “Look, it’s Y/N! And... Aonung.” She deadpanned.

Neteyam was paying little heed to what his sister was saying. No, he was paying close attention to how you were giggling at whatever Aonung said.

What the fuck?

Lo’ak nudged his shoulder. “Bro?”

Lo'ak waved his hand in front of Neteyam's face, which he instantly swept aside. What exactly did Aonung say to make you laugh that hard? You only laugh when you're with him!

Neteyam was practically seething, his fists clenched into balls, as Kiri and Lo'ak snickered to each other out of his earshot. If Kiri didn't know any better, she'd suppose Neteyam was thinking about the finest ways to strangle a (what might as well be) merman.

And truly, he was.

Lo’ak held his fist to his mouth to stifle his laughs. “Dude, are you jealous?”

Kiri placed a hand on Lo’ak’s shoulder, and looked away with a smile plastered to her face. “He totally is.”

Neteyam’s rage was now being directed towards his siblings. “What? No I’m not! Why would I be jealous?”

Lo’ak was still chortling when he pointed behind Neteyam, motioning that he should probably look. He turned around indignantly, and saw that Aonung had a hand on your arm. He was close. Too close for his liking.

And that look. Anyone could see that Aonung was flirting with you. He was maintaining direct eye contact with you, narrowing his gaze. He appeared to be listening carefully to what you were saying, but his smirk paired with his eyes passing over your lips indicated otherwise.

Neteyam just wanted to pummel his stupid, blue face in.

Kiri and Lo'ak burst out laughing as they witnessed Neteyam storm over to where the two of you were. He aggressively inserted his own hand where Aonung's own had originally been, shoving your body into his own by the shoulder. The unexpected intrusion caught you off guard.

“Oh! Neteyam!”

You beamed at his arrival right away, but Aonung frowned. Before you could enquire what Neteyam was doing, he stared daggers into Aonung's head, and hauled you away from him by your bicep. Aonung remained there stunned, staring at your back as you walked away.

“What the hell?”

Kiri and Lo'ak tripped over themselves on their way over to Aonung, howling with laughter, and Lo'ak smacked his shoulder in amusement.

“Sorry cuz, you never stood a chance!”

Aonung’s cheeks darkened deeply. He was thoroughly mortified; he had no idea you were and Neteyam were like that! (You’re not.)

...

Neteyam began to lose confidence throughout the walk once he had pulled you much further away. While you shouted at him to let you go, he inwardly cursed at himself, wondering why he had just done that.

Does he like you?

Your vehement protests about how Neteyam was causing you pain eventually ceased falling on deaf ears. His rage vanished when he realized he'd been treating you like a ragdoll for the entire walk, and he immediately felt horrible. He let go of your arm and buried his face in his hands, ashamed that he had done such a thing to you in the first place.

You rubbed your sore arm, and nudged his shoulder gently. “What’s wrong?”

He looked way too upset, and you rarely saw him like this, if ever.

“Why was Aonung looking at you like that?”

That struck you with irritation. “Are you serious? That’s what this is about?”

His eyes darkened at your words. How could it not be?

You started to raise your voice. “You cannot be for real. You’re just my friend, why are you being so overprotective? If Aonung likes me, that’s my business! Not yours!”

Neteyam snatched your wrist again, evidently upset by what you just uttered. He didn’t know what he was saying anymore. “The only person that can look at you like that is me!”

You went quiet for a time, then realization dawned on your features. “Hold up... do you like me?”

Suddenly, Neteyam’s gaze softened, and he could no longer be furious with you. “How could I not?”

He released your wrist, unsure of what to say next. When he noticed your prolonged silence, Neteyam whirled around, prepared to walk back to his home and cry his frustrations out. He was fighting back tears already; what was the point of telling you this anyway?

You gripped his shoulder and forced him to swivel around and face you. Neteyam could not cover his face, and he felt humiliated because he didn't know why he was acting in this manner. Why was he weeping over a silly look?

He was caught by surprise when you cupped his face in your hands, and wiped the stray tears away. Your irritation had completely dissipated. “You have nothing to be worried about.”

He sniffled. “Why?”

“Because I’ve liked you since forever, but I didn’t think you liked me back. There were so many mixed signals, and you never picked up on my hints, either!”

Neteyam was taken aback. He was at a loss for words.

You rolled your eyes. “Just kiss me, you big idiot.”

Your hand that was on his shoulder was now suddenly imprisoned in his grip, and he jerked you towards his body, lips crashing into yours. He pressed against you with ardor, as if you'd vanish if he didn't embrace you like you were the last Na'vi on Pandora.

Your nimble fingers found purchase in his braids. His hands slithered around your waist, drawing you flush against him, effectively deepening the kiss. He needed you so near that he could only sense your lips against his. When you would try and pull away, his desperate kisses would follow.

You feared Neteyam had forgotten you needed to breathe, because you had to roughly pull his head back by his braids to eventually get him to halt his feverish actions. The minimal bit of pigment on your lips had now smeared, a mark left by Neteyam that claimed you as his. Who the hell taught him to kiss like that?

As you both merely stared at each other, stunned, Neteyam spoke through labored breaths. “All mine?”

“I’m all yours.”

Bonus!

Lo'ak sipped his fruity iced drink, having witnessed the entire exchange from a distance. He patted Aonung's back.

“You wish that was you, huh?”

Aonung punched him.

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empress-simps · 2 months

Text

Missed Hints

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem! Reader CW: Language Genre: Fluff Summary: Remus Lupin wanted to make his feelings known; he is trying numerous ways to tell you, but you are simply quite oblivious to the poor boy’s advances.

Note: Am I a bit too obsessed with Rems? Probably. This one's a bit shorter than the rest. Enjoy reading! Pictures used are from Pinterest, credits to the owners!

Sometimes, all Remus wanted to do was run into a wall to knock himself out.

Maybe it’ll help formulate a reason why you couldn’t pick up his signals and actions that he wants to be more than friends. Please cut this poor boy some slack; he’s literally done everything he could to hint that he likes you.

The problem is that you are quite oblivious- being as dense as the castle walls in Hogwarts. Although this hasn’t stopped Remus from pursuing you after several pitiful (also quite funny) attempts, if anything, it made him work even harder to let you know he fancies you.

“Y/n, wait up!” Remus calls out to you, leaving his mates, who were whispering words of encouragement and ‘good luck’ to him. Hearing your name made you turn around, a book in your hand, as you smiled at the taller boy. “Remus, hi!” He smiled, walking beside you and settling in at the same pace as you. Suddenly, a friend of yours piped up, “Y/n, we have to go get something in the dorms; stay with Remus, yeah?” before you could even reply, they were rushing to leave. Remus could only blush as your friends shot him a thumbs up before escaping the scene, trying to stop the giggles escaping their mouths.

It was all up to him now.

“Erm, so how were the holidays?” he asked, trying to act casually as he placed his hands in his pockets. The question made you hum, your eyes lit up. "Oh, it was wonderful! We spent the holidays in Canada, lots of snow, I made a snow man and visited some parks.” She nods, holding her book closer to her chest, seemingly lost in thought. “It was also freezing.” Remus hums in agreement. “Is that so? I’m glad you had fun.” He smiles, and you both walk towards the great hall to have dinner.

You looked up at him with a bright smile and said, “Tell me about yours, Rems! I’m sure it was also fun.” Remus blushed, hearing his nickname roll off your tongue so casually. Even after all the years you’ve known each other, simply calling him by his nickname that you specially made for him has an effect that never faded away. “Well, it was just simple, really. I just stayed at James’ and had fun.” He shrugged his shoulders, smiling at you. He could care less about his holiday shenanigans, preferring you just talk his ear off about every little thing you did, he will absorb what you say word by word, like a sponge.

"Well, James is quite an interesting person.” She hummed in agreement, Remus felt his eyebrow twitch, a small twinge similar to jealousy creeping up into him. What about him? Do you think he’s interesting too? Was Remus someone who could be worthy of your time?

“Yeah, that bloke was conjuring up some pranks to pull this year.”

You let out a small giggle and oh merlin please take the poor boy to Madame Pomfrey because he thinks his poor heart can’t handle all the feelings he has towards you. Remus Lupin is such a simp.

He clears his throat, trying to muster up some courage as he asks you the million-galleon question. “So, are you free tomorrow? It’s Hogsmeade day.” Remus smiles, thankfully, his clammy hands are kept under his pockets, making his nervousness almost unnoticeable. Your eyes lit up “Oh! I forgot, but yes, I am free tomorrow.” Remus saw his chance and took it. “Great, how about we hang out in Three Broomsticks?”

For Merlin’s sake, please make this turn into Lupin’s favor. He’s done too many ways to confess to your clueless self.

“That would be fantastic! I can bring my friends along, and you can bring James, Sirius, and Peter too!” you clapped your hands excitedly, not noticing how the werewolf visibly deflated as you exclaimed. Right, might as well reject him right now on the spot to end his misery.

He could probably shout “I love you” and stare at you directly- but you’ll just think he’s talking to someone behind you. Remus had also tried to pass you a note containing his feelings for you back then. Grabbing it without much of a thought, you passed it to your friend, thinking he wants you to give it to her, who shakes her head and sighs, looking at Remus.

The rest of the Marauders and your friends think Remus’s plans of confessing to you were a lost cause.

“Our poor Moony…” Peter frowns, as James shakes his head. “At this point, Moony should just kiss her.” Sirius sighed, feeling pity for his friend. “She would probably think it was a friendly kiss.” Peter snorts, trying to control his laughter, James glared at Sirius jokingly before pushing him. “Bugger off Pads, Y/N’s just… super innocent? I guess.” They resumed watching the two from a distance, a look of anticipation evident in their faces.

“I was kind of hoping it’ll be just us?” Remus grins nervously, sitting beside you as you reach the Gryffindor table. You took a bite out of the apple pie from your plate before replying, “Sure, it’ll still be fun. You’re a great company, Rems.” She smiles, before resuming on eating the remaining apple pie slice. Little do you know the simple compliment you made had a tremendous effect on Remus.

“Moony, your smile hasn’t left your face ever since Y/n agreed. Stop it, I’m getting scared.” Sirius states, Remus turns to look, a hint of a small dopey smile on his face. “Hm?”

“Oh merlin, Y/n broke him.” Peter blanches. They were smacked upside their heads lightly by James. “Come on now, don’t rain on his parade. Moon’s just… well- over the moon.” James laughs lightly, Sirius snorts while Peter tries to hide his smile. Remus rolled his eyes playfully, opening his trunk to pick out the clothes he’s going to wear tomorrow. “Whatever, now help me decide what to wear, you sods.”

“Rems! Over here!” You exclaimed, standing on your tiptoes, arms up and waving in his directions. Remus smiles, maneuvering through the line of students waiting to get out of Hogwarts and to Hogsmeade. “Y/n! you look… pretty.” He blushes, drinking in the sight of you. Remus could swear on his life that he saw a light shade of pink dust your cheek as you tucked a stray hair behind your ear.

“Thank you, I like your sweater. It suits you.” You said, eyes going over his body and one of Remus’s signature sweaters. You can’t deny it; you like what you see, you were pulled from your thoughts when someone spoke.

“Oi! Get a move on you half-blood and goody-two-shoes! Holding up the bloody line is what you’re doing!” Evan Rosier, a Slytherin student complained a few feet away from you and Remus, Mulciber and Dolohov backs their fellow Slytherin and friend up. He snarls, those blokes, looks like they’ll have a new target for one of their nasty pranks.

“If I were you, I would shut my mouth.” Remus warns, standing in front of you, blocking your frame from their view.

Evan raised one eyebrow, amusement swimming in his eyes. “What are you going to do? Pesky little Gryffindor like you are always running around trying to be brave.” He taunts, moving closer to their direction.

“Rems, I’m fine. Let’s go, yeah?” She gently tugs the sleeve of his sweater, he looks down at you, his expression softening. “Alright then.” He threw one last warning look at Rosier over his shoulder; that punk needs to just wait and see what’s going to come and bite his ass.

The two of you are sitting in the Three Broomsticks, talking about basically anything under the sun. Well, you mostly talked while Remus just listens, humming and sometimes sharing his two cents on the topic you are on.

“Rems, thank you.”

Remus’ eyebrows shot up in confusion, “Thank you? What for?”

“Earlier, Evan Rosier.”

“Ah, that prick. It was nothing, y/n.” He offers a gentle smile; he wants to touch your hand that was directly across his from the table but ultimately deciding against it, the last thing he wants to do is make you feel uncomfortable.

“Thank you for being my friend. You’re an amazing person who deserves the world.” She smiles, slowly taking his hand onto hers and squeezing it tightly.

He felt a crack in his heart. “Yeah, you are too.” He managed to choke out, offering a wry smile.

Friends. Is that it? Is he just one of the many friends you have in your life? Is he a friend that will slowly drift away after you graduate from Hogwarts? Merlin, he would even count himself lucky if you invited him to be at your wedding, and if he wants to push his luck then he might even be the godfather to one of your future kids.

You furrowed your brows, “Is there something wrong, Rems?” He looks at you, quickly shaking his head. “Nothing’s wrong. Why do you ask?” You hummed, “Well, you have this kind of haunted look on you when you’re bothered about something; you’re doing it right now.”

Remus blinks, even he himself wasn’t aware of that. He closed his eyes and sighed; fuck it. He’ll push his luck to the extremes by confessing his love for you. Doesn’t matter if you see him as just a friend, you deserve to know.

“Y/n, I have to tell you something.”

“Of course. What would that be?”

“Well, I don’t know how to tell you this without being upfront about it…” He starts, you urged him to continue; well, here goes nothing.

“Y/n, I-“

“Two butterbeers, correct?”

Remus wants to pull his hair out of frustration as the server walked towards them and set down the butterbeers they ordered, interrupting his speech. You smiled, thanking them before turning to Remus, who was frowning.

“What was it you were trying to say, Rems?” You asked, sipping your butterbeer.

“I like you, a lot. Ever since we met.” He simply blurts out quickly, as if he’s scared someone is going to interrupt again. You blink slowly, setting your butterbeer down gently.

“I like you too, Remus.”

“No- you don’t understand,” He shakes his head as you furrowed your eyebrows, utterly confused.

“I fancy you, love.” He emphasizes, taking both of your hands into his large ones, looking at you straight in the eyes, completely serious. She widens her eyes ever so slightly, her heart rate speeding up a bit.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve always fancied you too, Rems.”

Remus felt as if the time slowed down, his heartbeat pulsing faster, eyes blinking owlishly, his jaw slack in shock.

Did he hear that right? Please tell him that he heard that right.

“I-I… I gave you hints, love!” He sputtered, “But you’ve just ignored them every single time!” She frowns, “I didn’t notice…” Remus agreed, “Forgive me, but you were quite oblivious.” A small smile was on his face.

“You could’ve just said outright that you fancy me, Rems.” She chuckles, a faint blush on her cheeks.

“If you like me too, then why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to force you.” She said, looking at the beverage in her hand. His eyes softened, “Force me? To what, love?”

She sighs, looking up at him. “I didn’t want you to force yourself to try to love me just because I feel that way for you.” Before Remus could even speak, she opened her mouth again, “I know you, Remus. You would’ve tried either way, that’s just who you are.” She chuckles, sipping butterbeer before continuing.

“You have a heart of gold, Rems. That’s one of the things I love about you.” She rubs her thumb across his scarred knuckles gently. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, the simple and gentle touch made his spine shiver.

If this was some kind of dream, then he would be more than happy to not wake up.

“Can I kiss you?” He breathes out, making you giggle. You stood up from your seat and leaned towards him, you can feel and smell his peppermint toothpaste fanning against your lips, beckoning you closer.

“You don’t even have to ask.” You closed the distance between you and sealed both of your lips with a kiss.

#remus x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x reader #marauders fanfiction #moony x reader #moony #marauders #james potter #sirius black #marauders fic #harry potter #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #the marauders era

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frankenkyle19 · 3 months

Text

Necklaces and Potato Chips

Coriolanus Snow x Female reader (smut)

warnings/description: smut; oral (m and f receiving), kissing, Virgin!Coryo. Reader and Coryo are both 18 in this. Mentions of Coriolanus’ poverty, etc.

Word count: 3.4k

Coriolanus Snow was never much of a gentle man. He was poised and perfect. There was never any room to make mistakes around him, because even if he didn’t specifically point it out, he somehow always knew. And would relentlessly tease you for it.

You saw right through him though. His carefully crafted exterior, hiding underneath it a fragile ego that was nearly a decade in mending. After the war and the death of his father, the Snow family had nearly no money to their name. They lived up in their penthouse, worn and falling apart from the war.

Not even a pot to piss in.

You’d never told anyone that you’d overheard Dean Casca Highbottom speaking to Coriolanus in such a way, and seeing the fear in Coriolanus’ eyes. It clicked. It was all true. He wasn’t eating steak for breakfast. He didn’t have maids waiting on his hand and foot. Hell, you’d seen the way his outfit frayed at the edges from countless washings. He couldn’t afford a new one.

At first the revelation rocked you to the core. He’d kept up appearances so well… but for what? For high social standing? To avoid the gossip? Yes.

Your own family wasn’t filthy rich. Nothing like the Plinth family, who it seemed everyone but you despised. But your family was living comfortably in the Capitol, in a modest but neatly decorated apartment that made you feel secure.

You didn’t show you knew. You didn’t look at Coriolanus like he was anything less than. Why would you? You’d never understood the needless drama and gossip that surrounded the kids at the academy. It was unbearable at times. You had to be perfect 24/7 so your name was kept out of people’s mouths, and even then that wasn’t guaranteed to work. Sejanus Plinth was a great example. His family, originally from District 2, came over during the war when his father had sided with the Capitol and helped them subdue the other Districts. Traitor much? At least that’s what Sejanus had called him the few times you’d spoken with him. Been the only one to give the poor boy any attention. Coriolanus had as well, but you could tell from the look in his eyes he was less than happy about it.

Coriolanus had always been around. He was at nearly all your birthday parties throughout your childhood, until about when you turned thirteen. Then he just… stopped going. Maybe because he didn’t have a gift to bring. Not that you cared, but because apparently everyone else did even though it was none of their business.

You just let it go, glancing his way in the hall every now and then. Only sometimes he would look back.

Until your sixteenth birthday party. Suddenly he just… appeared. You were having it in the mess hall at the academy on a Saturday afternoon. You weren’t even sure how your mother and father had booked it, but you didn’t ask. You’d learned by now not to ask lots of questions.

But when you saw that blond head of curls bobbing through the crowd, you had several dozen questions that you needed answered lest you go insane. Why? Why after three years had he suddenly decided to show up?

You hoped that he’d at least be able to enjoy the food, maybe even sneak some home to his family. Maybe that could be arranged. You felt bad for them, but not in a babying way. Just a genuine person who felt bad for another’s misfortune that was no fault of their own.

You don’t pursue him. Didn’t make your way over to him. You didn’t want to scare him off. He’d come to you if and when he was ready.

And he had. He’d come up and given you a shy greeting, wishing you a happy birthday in a voice much too meek for the Coriolanus Snow.

He’d also left you with a little wrapped gift and the second he gave it to you, he practically bolted. Left the party and you didn’t seem him till the next Monday in clases.

You’d waited till you’d gotten home to open the gift, and inside of the carefully wrapped paper was a necklace. A beautiful sparkling necklace. You had no idea where he’d gotten it from, but it looked almost antique, a red shining…. No it couldn’t be. A red ruby? But you knew there was no way they could afford that. So you’d come to the conclusion that either he’d stolen it, or he’d gotten it from his grandmother, or kept it after his mother passed away. It made your heart clench.

You wore it every day since and everyone ooo’d and ahh’d over it, asking where you’d gotten it, but you never told. You weren’t sure if he’d wanted everyone to know. With the way he quickly scurried away after giving it to you, your guess was no, he didn’t.

He was at your seventeenth birthday party as well, though he hadn’t brought a gift that time and he only wished you a quick happy birthday before disappearing into the crowd of people. Weird. He was so weird.

The two of you spoke here and there until your eighteenth birthday. He’d turned eighteen just a few weeks to a month before you, and just like the last two years, he came to your party. It was a smaller party this time around. Your father and mother had insisted on going all out. You only turn eighteen once, but you’d refused. You didn’t want a bunch of people. Didn’t want to have to worry so hard about keeping up an appearance.

Coriolanus, once again kept his distance from you, even with the smaller group of people, but he stayed for the whole party. You’d always made it a point to let him come to you, when he was comfortable. Like trying to gain a feral animal's trust.

As the party began to subside and everyone began to leave, you tried to make your way over to the blue eyed boy. You’d just reached him when he was at the food table set up before he turned and walked away.

This time around the party had been at your family’s apartment, reason for the much smaller group of people. You furrowed your brows as you followed him down the dimly lit hallway. He paused outside of your bedroom door before walking in. What the fuck?

You followed him, listening outside the door after he’d closed it, ear pressed against the wood. Really you should have burst in there. Should have yelled at him and asked him just what the hell he was doing in your bedroom.

Until you heard a little sigh, a release of breath before the crunch of a chip, and then another. He must have stuffed some of the the refreshments into his pockets before scurrying off somewhere to eat them in peace. Your heart broke for him. Broke for the young boy you used to see sitting alone at lunch at the academy. Who only had superficial friends. Never anyone who truly liked him for who he was.

You stayed with your ear pressed against the door for a while, debating on what to do when you saw someone making their way down the dark hall. You couldn’t make it out but it looked like your father. Shit. If he saw Coriolanus in your room he’d flip out, totally get the wrong idea.

So, without much thought at all, you reached for the doorknob and shoved your way quickly into your room before closing the door behind you. You heaved a breath out, facing the door before you whipped around and faced the man that was, for some reason, in your room.

His blue eyes were wide, chip crumbs on his lips, a chip in his hand as he looked at you with the saddest eyes ever. Fuck, he’d been caught.

His mind began to reel. God, he could only imagine the gossip that would start from this. It would be all over for him. He’d die of embarrassment he was sure of it.

But you didn’t instantly run out to tell everyone how you’d found him. You stayed planted in front of him, looking him over. He wore an off white dress shirt and a little black vest that fit his chest snug. Had he always been this pretty? Had his eyes always been so blue?

He cleared his throat, stuffing the chip back into his pocket as he reached for the doorknob over your shoulder. He was trying to run. Just like he always did.

You grabbed his arm before he could reach the knob and you held his bicep with your hand, squeezing just tight enough so he knew you weren’t letting him leave. Not like that.

“I-“ He started, looking at you with a panicked expression. A dear in headlights if you will. It was, again, sad to see. He was always so put together and seeing him with the beginnings of tears in his ocean blue eyes made your expression soften.

Your free hand reached up to wipe the chip crumbs from the corners of his mouth but Coriolanus must have thought that you were going to slap him or something with the way he flinched. This poor boy…

“Coriolanus…” you said gently, cupping his cheek with your hand and leaving it there. He seemed to lean into your touch the slightest bit, closing his eyes as he let out a shaky sigh.

“Yeah?” He responded, blue eyes peering down at you. He was waiting for the ball to drop. For you to yell at him. To hit him and kick him.

“Why are you in my room?”

“I didn’t know it was your room- I’m sorry- I just… I wanted a few more chips before I left but I’d already eaten enough to almost be suspicious and I didn’t want anyone to see. I’m really sorry-'' hearing an apology from Coriolanus Snow’s mouth was a weird thing. It didn’t seem to belong there. He seemed so unapologetic.

“Coriolanus-“ you sighed, giving him a sympathetic look that had him shaking his head and pulling away from your touch, standing up to his full height.

“Don’t look at me like that,” He started, embarrassment covering his features as he turned away from you.

You followed him. He wasn’t getting out of this that easily. Hell no. Not after all the years of confusion he’d given you.

You placed a hand on his shoulder and he tensed once more, but for this time it seemed to be a different reason. The air around the two of you changed. Electrified. Currents of energy spun around you, danced in circles, growing stronger by the second. All this time. All these years. Had it all led up to this?

Coriolanus turned around, most likely to apologize again but you caught him by surprise, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him down to meet your lips.

It was just like you’d imagined it. Warm, soft, electric. He was stunned into shock for several seconds before he melted into it, closing his eyes and kissing back. There was a hunger behind his kisses, one that showed desperation. A need for this. He’d wanted this just as long as you’d have, if not longer. More pieces of the puzzle fit together at that moment. All those years.. All those parties. He was trying to get your attention but he didn’t know how. He was trying…

Your hands rested on his shoulders as you stood on your tippy toes to kiss him, your lips molding together. A need overtook you in that moment and as the kiss got more heated, your hands found their way to his belt that held his black slacks up, and you brushed your fingers against his bulge.

He pulled back with a shocked noise in the back of his throat, chest rising and falling heavily as he looked down at you.

“I’ve never-“ he started breathlessly as he watched you, almost warily.

Oh. He was a virgin… You weren’t. You’d lost your virginity to Festus Creed some time last year. It was very uneventful but you still had more experience than Coriolanus. Something about that made you clench your thighs together. You wanted to ruin him.

“Coriolanus…” you cooed, your hands coming to rest on the loops of his belt, but slowly, giving him time to pull away if he really did decide he didn’t want this.

“Let me? I can make you feel so good…” Your tone had dropped, and Coriolanus swore your eyes darkened as you stared at him.

He thought about it for several moments before he gave a sheepish nod. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass himself, but he had been fantasizing about you for so long now…

“Yes…” He breathed. “Yes I want that..”

A few more seconds of silence before you two fell into even more bruising kisses. Despite how much taller he was compared to you, you were able to lead him to your bed very easily, pushing him back onto it before crawling over him.

Your hands were everywhere and Coriolanus was overwhelmed as he tossed his head back into the pillows. The pillows that smelled like you.

“I don’t want to go all the way…” he blurted out, cheeks flushed.

You looked up at him, giving him a gentle smile. “Of course. You let me know if I’m doing too much and we stop.” You said firmly so he understood.

Your hands came to his belt and slowly began to undo it before sliding it from the loops on his dress pants.

He sat up and helped you kick off his too tight, too small pants with a huff before he laid back, now only in his black boxers. He strained against them and your mouth watered a bit, not even having seen his cock yet.

“Going to use my mouth on you, pretty boy. Going to make this the best night of your life,” Your finger slid under his waistband and before he even knew it, you were pulling his underwear down his legs and his cock sprang free, slapping against his lower stomach.

For how frail he looked, he was packing. He was longer than he was thick, and the idea of him inside you made you a bit dizzy. But not tonight. He’d said he wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

Carefully, you wrapped your hand around him, causing his eyes to go wide and his hips to buck up into the touch. He was nearly searing in your hand, drops of pre-cum leaking steadily from the tip.

He was in heaven, eyes closed, head tossed back, and when he felt you press a kiss to his tip, a tiny little whine left his parted lips.

“Shh my sweet thing, it’s okay, giving you all the love you need. You’ve got such a pretty cock,” you accentuated your words with a few more kisses to the tip, his pre-cum coating your lips before you licked it off.

Coriolanus moaned softly, eyes open as he looked down at you. He twitched in your hand, legs trembling beneath you as he waited for your next move.

Your lips wrapped around him and he waited for you to take him deeper in your mouth, but you stayed just at the tip, suckling gently on him. He was so fucking sensitive that it almost hurt from how good it felt.

“Fuck,” He cursed, and that’s how you knew he was loving this. In all your years, you’d never heard him curse.

You made sure to keep eye contact with him, letting your tongue roll over the tip, collecting the beads of liquid that fell.

Finally, after you really got him whining, you took him further into your mouth, breathing deeply through your nose and hollowing your cheeks as he arched his back up off the bed.

Your throat seized around him and you nearly gagged, having to pull back just a bit. Your throat was already scratchy from it and you could only imagine just how sore it would be tomorrow after deep-throating him. But that’s all it was. Imagining. Because without any warning he came down your throat with a choked groan, tummy tensing.

You swallowed his release with a slight grimace, easing him through his release before pulling off of him.

He had a light sheen of sweat covering his forehead and his eyes were closed. He looked like he was sleepy for several moments before he finally managed to peel his eyes open and look down at you with a fucked out expression, a lazy smile on his lips.

“Jesus…” he murmured, sitting up on his elbows to look at you. He looked you over, still completely clothed and an idea came to his mind.

“Can I do that to you too?” You wanted to tease him a bit. Suck your dick? No Coriolanus couldn’t do that because you didn’t have one. Silly. But you didn’t say that, you just nodded your head as you looked at him.

“If you want to, yeah. Of course sweetheart. Anything you want.”

Anything.

What a dangerous word.

In an instant he had you flipped and was pulling your little skirt down your legs right along with your panties. You crossed your legs shyly but Coriolanus wasn’t having that as he used his hands to part them, sliding in between them and getting comfortable.

“How do I…?” He asked, looking between your eyes and your dripping cunt.

You too one of his hands and brought it to your core. He gasped at the warmth and the wetness of it. You helped him run his fingers across your folds, dipping into you just a bit before pulling back.

Soon though he grew bored of that and dipped his head down, inches away from your core. He really was going to eat you out… you were surprised.

He surged forward that last little bit, his mouth connecting with your clit, sending a shockwave up you.

He closed his eyes, well, more like they rolled into the back of his head once he properly tasted you. And then he was off, lapping at your folds, getting really messy with it. He needed almost no guidance. It was like he was born to eat pussy.

“Fuck, Coriolanus- Coryo-“ He really seemed to like that with the way he moaned against your core, beginning to fuck you with his pretty pink tongue.

You already felt extremely close and you weren’t sure if it was because he was good at what he was doing, or if you’d just been needing this for so long that anything felt good.

“Oh fuck Coryo, I’m going to come if you keep that up- good boy, that’s it-“ You hissed out in pleasure, head thrown back. Your fingers carded into his hair and he let out a little whine as you tugged on his blond curls.

He felt the way your body tensed and he knew you were close. That did wonders to boost his ego, and he really doubled down on eating you out, tongue fucking you hard now, his nose brushing your clit.

You came hard on his tongue, practically grinding up against his face, and he let you, too pussy drunk to complain. Not that he ever would. He never realized how much he enjoyed this.

He kept at it until you were whining and pushing him away. He himself let out a little disgruntled whine, obviously upset that he had to stop, before you pulled him up to cuddle next to you.

The two of you were still half dressed, shaking and recovering from your releases.

Coryo watched you with a smile on his lips that were still coated in your slick.

“Jesus, coryo. Clean yourself off.” You shook your head with a laugh before you gasped when he surged toward and kissed you once more. You cupped his cheek and kissed back after a moment, grinning against him.

He pulled back for a moment and reached for your neck. You gave him a confused look before you saw him take your necklace chain in his hand, looking it over. The necklace. You’d almost forgotten. You’d worn it every single day since he’d gifted it to you.

“Stay here tonight?” You asked with a soft smile. You didn’t care what your parents said. You were an adult now, and hell, they didn’t even need to know that Coriolanus was here.

He gave a quizzical look before he seemed to realize you were being serious and then he nodded.

“I’d like that. A lot.”

And that was how you ended up on Coriolanus Snow’s arm. The only person who he truly trusted outside of his family.

#coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosbas #coryo snow #coryo x reader #coryo smut #the hunger games

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good-chimes · 11 months

Text

Proposing:

Grand Unified Scarian Theory

a single, overarching Scarian romance arc across the whole Hermitcraft and Life series as well as a primer for anyone curious about the early seasons.

We start with NEIGHBOR MEET CUTE in early Season 6:

Season 6 begins in a peaceful pirate bay. SCAR, an established hermit just beginning his third season, is happily making pirate caves. Into this tranquil scene comes GRIAN.

Grian, fresh-faced and new to Hermitcraft, picks a sea-themed base location right next to Scar’s pirate caves. He gets himself set up and starts his base. Even someone like Grian can get newcomer nerves, and he spends the first few weeks desperately trying to act like a normal person instead of the horrible gremlin he really is.

(Some hermits are taken in by this. Doc and Xisuma give him pity diamonds, something that—after getting to know Grian—they noticeably never do again.)

The only person exempt from Grian’s just-a-little-birthday-boy act is Mumbo, whom Grian already knows, clearly has a puppy-crush on, and pursues relentlessly.

Grian and Scar don’t interact much at first. Grian sees Scar for the first time while passing by his base. Scar instantly falls in one of his own caves and dies.

Grian panics.

Grian: I DIDN’T DO IT!

Scar, intrigued by his new neighbor, makes some overtures of interest:

1. Scar leaves a fully enchanted trident at Grian’s base as a welcome present. This is a generous gift for the cute neighbor you have a crush on and frankly the most normal thing either of them do in the entire years-long relationship.

Grian goes ‘huh!’ at the trident, never finds out who sent it, and immediately forgets the whole thing.

2. Scar entertains Grian’s traveling-salesman pitch and buys his overpriced armor boxes.

Multiple jokes about the size of Scar’s wallet. Grian clearly pleased by the transaction.

3. Scar makes Grian a complementary in-joke build (Spongebob’s house by Squidward’s house).

This delights Grian immeasurably for five minutes until he turns back to his prank war with Mumbo.

(Poor Mumbo. Clearly immensely fond of Grian but not sure he wants to be in a relationship with a lit stick of dynamite. This is very understandable.)

By this point Scar obviously kind of clocks that Grian is insane about Mumbo. This isn’t much of a leap. The entire SERVER is aware that Grian is horribly in love with Mumbo.

Ah. That’s okay. Scar backs off a bit. He recognizes when he’s not really in with a chance.

Maybe this thing he has with Grian is just going to be a friendship, and that’s okay! Having a crush is fun even if you’re not going to do anything about it. Scar is going to build some shops about it and be normal.

Both of them are going to be very normal.

FLIRTING (First Stages) – mid-Season 6

Both of them immediately forget to be normal.

Grian has started a detective agency and has no mysteries to solve. Scar instantly invents a cookie-based mystery supervillain called the Jangler and leaves Grian a series of tantalizing cookie-based puzzles for enrichment in his enclosure.

Grian has invented a game where you kill people with rockets. Scar volunteers to get murdered. Both of them are delighted.

Scar and Cub’s business empire is incidentally crushing Grian’s startup venture. There is no reason for this to be so flirtatiously charged.

At this point all the hermits move to a new village because of the Minecraft update. Grian starts a who-can-build-the-tallest-house war with Mumbo and Iskall. Scar notices and starts doing the same from the other side of the village.

It quickly gets so wild that Mumbo taps out (Mumbo does not do well with intensity, would rather just not, thankyouverymuch), and it's only Grian, Iskall and Scar.

Scar builds a wild giant plant eating his rocketship, and then a castle in the sky, and an enormous version of himself firing a canon at Grian's house. This is the first time you can really see Grian trying to hold in shrieks when he flies back in to see what Scar has done while he's gone.

Grian’s interest has been caught. He’s gone from barely seeing Scar to checking on him regularly. What’s our good friend Scar up to? What’s Scar done? What is Scar going to do next?

FLIRTING (How To Catch Your Crush’s Interest By Building A Secret Government Facility) – late Season 6

What Scar does next is put on a snazzy military uniform, team up with Doc to steal the time machine Grian invented last week, then, in the most effort someone has EVER gone to to get Grian's attention, spend weeks on end building a fully-functional 'Area 77' military base and containment facility to stop him getting it back.

Turns out this works beyond Scar’s wildest dreams.

Grian INSTANTLY obsessed with breaking into Scar’s base and retrieving his time machine.

Grian persuades Ren into forming a hippie camp with him next to the base and spends weeks entirely fixated on Scar. Meanwhile Scar, who is starting to really understand how to get and keep Grian's attention, builds more and fancier infrastructure to keep Grian out. This is also where Grian really starts looking at Scar's art—the insane cliffs Scar has build around his new hangers—and awkwardly not quite managing words, because it would be very embarrassing to just outright say the word beautiful, and Grian’s a very normal and non-embarrassing person.

In the climax of the season, Grian-the-hippie breaks into General Scar’s base.

Nobody can say that Scar making himself a top brass general and Grian making himself an anti-establishment flower power hippie does not end up with plausibly-deniable not-making-out Grian-provoking-Scar-into-holding-him-against-a-wall.

but.

BUT.

This is Hermitcraft. It’s temporary. Scar and Grian both know it was a bit. A bit they both got super into, sure! But a bit. Not weird at all.

(“Sure, mate, not weird at all,” Mumbo says, after all of this is over. “Then why are you making it SOUND weird Mumbo you’re the WORST”)*

(“Sooo....” Cub says, and Scar says, “I know. I know!”)*

*not canon but you can't tell me it didn't happen off screen

FLIRTING (But What About…) – early Season 7

Okay, so that was weird, but Grian is definitely still in love with Mumbo. The Mumbo pursuit is going great and Mumbo definitely doesn’t look nervous whenever Grian turns up with a new idea. Grian is going to get Mumbo to fall in love with him and they will marry in the spring and have a dozen beautiful children redstone contraptions.

Grian attempts to make it more official with Mumbo. Surely they have been flirting long enough, they are ready for the next stage! This is in no way a reaction to Scar becoming a weird wizard in a way very unsettling to Grian and building the kind of wild organic tangled forest build that Grian is fascinated by but can't even begin to comprehend.

Everything is very under control in Grian's life. He's now official boyfriends with Mumbo. They live together and have a messaging system and everything.

Mumbo announces he’s moving out.

It’s-not-you-it’s-me

You’re… you’re moving out? Grian says, in the smallest possible voice.

We’ll still have the messaging system, Mumbo says, unconvincingly.

FINE, Grian says, I’m moving out TOO.

Mumbo moves out.

Grian deals with this in the healthiest possible way. He invents a mayorship and attempts to give it to Mumbo.

Grian is Mumbo’s self-appointed campaign manager so Mumbo has to be round him ALL THE TIME, it’s for the CAMPAIGN, Mumbo.

Mumbo, a man who doesn’t deal well with pressure or responsibility, is maybe not the ideal choice for mayor, something that has escaped Grian entirely.

Mumbo builds a robot and attempts to palm off all responsibility for decision-making onto it. Grian immediately calls it their son.

Grian puts his moustache all over the server.

NO other hermits support them for mayor (except Scar, from a lost bet, who Grian has continued to have intensely weird flirtations with while all this is happening)

Things reach a fever pitch. Election day arrives. Mumbo doesn’t want this actually but try telling Grian that. The entire MumboGrian edifice that Grian has obsessively and wildly build has reached an unsustainable pitch and finally comes tumbling down around them.

Mumbo votes Scar for mayor.

Grian votes Scar for mayor.

Mumbo disappears for several weeks to do some nice soothing redstone and calm down.

FLIRTING (Civil War) – late Season 7

Everything has calmed down now. Scar is mayor. Mumbo is...somewhere. Grian is going to work on his base normally.

Grian has a new project. He wants to build in the new nether biomes. He builds a huge and echoing and obsessively inverse version of his huge and echoing and obsessively symmetrical mansion base. It's very impressive. It's totally hollow. There's... no one else here.

Grian decides that okay, he is going to bring PEOPLE here.

He invites Mumbo, because he hasn't seen him in weeks. He invites Bdubs, because Grian above all loves genius. And he invites Scar. Because of course. Everything major Grian does now, Scar is an of course.

Bdubs shows up! Generously builds Grian's entire mansion interior. Mumbo shows up. Builds a tiny upside down disco shack.

Scar does not show up.

Scar is being mayor! Scar is a very busy and important man! Scar has spent the last few weeks obsessively replacing every single goddamn mycelium block in the shopping district with beautifully tailored grass and making trees whose flowers are diamonds. He's also got his own megabase going on. For once Scar has so much to do it's even enough for Scar's ambitions, which have never been small.

He does not come when Grian calls.

Grian is Not Happy.

This is the point where Grian starts a steadily more unhinged campaign of leaving Scar invitations. He makes little tailor's dummies of himself and delivers them to Scar's house. He sets up a tea party of three grians in a secret space under Scar's mayoral throne. He hangs himself in effigy on the tip of Scar's megadrill build. Normal behavior.

And then when Scar still doesn't notice, he puts a tiny bit of mycelium back on one of the streets of the shopping district.

This starts… THE MYCELIUM WARS

Scar attempts to contain the growing mycelium patch with warning tape.

Grian spreads more mushroom spores.

Scar brings in his allies to help contain the growing mushroom patches.

Grian digs out an underground rebel HQ, recruits several rebels, and declares himself Motherspore.

Mayor Scar stares into a camera and uses his most velvety baritone to proclaim he will hunt down Grian and the mycelium resistance and bring them to justice.

Grian sets loose mushroom-spreading sheep.

Mayor Scar obsessively searches for his base.

Grian and Impulse build several decoy bases and trap them.

Mayor Scar employs Mumbo to strip-mine every block of the shopping district with redstone tunnel-borers.

Eventually Deputy Mayor Bdubs, having his own thing with rebel Etho, tricks all of the resistance into ender-pearling into jail.

Scar gets to threaten to pour lava on an imprisoned Grian for ten minutes straight and they’re both enjoying this so much.

Grian: Scar! SCAR! Scar Scar Scar no Scar no Scar no listen Scar

Scar: Yes?

Grian: …Let’s take this somewhere else.

They ‘take this’ to Scar’s beautifully-appointed mayoral office. Grian sits on the arm of his chair (I don’t know what to tell you, this is on-screen canon).

Grian: So I know how to end the war.

Grian: We have to play minigames and make personal bets.

Grian: And Scar, Scar, if you lose…

Scar: Yes?

Grian: … you have to help build my base.

Entire room: [stunned silence]

Etho: Is this what it was about the whole time, Grian?

So! That happened. And the thing is, they could both mentally pass off the area 77 general/hippie stuff as Just A Fun Bit That Got Very Intense.

They can't do this with the mayor/motherspore stuff. They are basically making out on Scar’s chair. The resistance have noticed. The mayoral staff have noticed. EVERYONE has noticed.

Scar is into it. Scar is going along with it. Scar knows he’d had a crush for a long time, and he isn't scared of swimming with a huge wave, never mind where it's going to break. Scar has always embraced the rush. With Grian, you never know what’s going to happen next.

Grian has always loved being around Scar because there’s so much going on that you don’t have to think. Grian doesn’t have to think until everything’s calmed down. It's not until now that he stops and realizes… could this be… something.

(Maybe it already is.)

And then, by whatever eldritch mechanic you personally favor:

3rd life begins.

HEAD-OVER-HEELS – Third Life

In the tiny claustrophobic stripped-bare world of Third Life, Grian makes a choice. Grian thinks, for once very, very clearly: what if it wasn't a bit? What if it was real. What if Grian took every explosive piece of who he was and handed it over to someone he's—okay, he'll admit it—someone he's been obsessed with for a long time. What if that heady sparkle he's been seeing in the corner of his vision is true. What happens if you grab it with both hands?

Scar—surprised, bemused, amazed but wrong-footed—almost doesn't know what to DO with this.

Scar is so used to Grian layering all his obsession behind a thick layer of irony and drama and second-guessing and schemes. ‘Sure we can make out but only if I'm trailing mushroom spores and you're wearing that sash.’ ‘I'm only here because Mumbo's not around.’ ‘It’s not a thing.’ ‘It's not real.’

But it is real.

And, for once, Scar hears a tiny alarm go off in his brain. Scar knows Grian better than anyone else does, by now, and even he doesn't know where this ends. Grian is a force of nature and Scar has never been his unfiltered target. But Grian's throwing himself into this, throwing himself at Scar. And Scar always says 'yes.' 'Yes, and.' 'Yes, let's'. Scar never wants less of Grian. Scar has always taken what he can get.

But with that warning bell, Scar does try to keep that slight layer of dramatic distance, even in this new world where you can die and not come back, even if they don't know if they'll get out of this alive. Scar doesn't fully buy into Grian's second-in-command-devotion, he forces a space for Grian to still be the Grian he knows, some kind of safety vent (‘here's a bee on a lead’). And it could be a lot of reasons, but part of it is…Grian's head-over-heels, for once, and Scar has the unfamiliar feeling of needing to be the one to look where they're going.

Because where they're going is: the last two, all their friends dead, not knowing if there's any way to survive but knowing their friends haven't come back, and at that point Scar takes off the very last of his brakes and the very last of his reservations and says:

For everything you've done for me you can kill me.

(I want this. I want it to be you.)

This breaks Grian absolutely and completely.

And not broken in the fun way! Grian is too far in. Grian let go of Mumbo, who was safe because Mumbo never let it get too far, and he took a risk on Scar, and now Grian is discovering that he didn’t even know what risk meant. Grian is in emotional pain he never suspected existed. Grian has let himself put all his gambling chips on someone who wasn't SAFE and he has lost.

Grian has LOST SCAR and he has LOST HIMSELF and he has FOUND OUT HE CAN BE HURT and he is never going to be the fucking same again.

Scar is in the pond with Grian’s sword at his unresisting neck. And Scar is going to die, and Scar (damn him damn him) has turned it into: he's going to die for Grian. Now Grian is hurting, he's complicit, it turns out grief is an inevitable part of love and beauty, this is all it's taken for Grian's worldview to fall apart in pieces he can't pick up, and Grian has no defenses against pain so there's obviously no way to cope except to beat Scar to death in a cactus ring and jump off a cliff.

AFTERMATH – Season 8

They wake up in Hermitcraft.

They wake up in Hermitcraft! Scar is delighted to find out they just reincarnate, after all that!

Sure, they've all got some lingering trauma but Scar has never let that stop him from doing anything. Scar thought that whole thing went well! He just about dares to think...romantic...? Maybe...?

Grian is Normal to him.

Grian is so fucking normal. it's like. s6 normal.

Scar is. kind of. confused.

Grian is NOT acting like someone he had a romantic death match with.

(Grian is falling apart, but if there's one thing Grian has proved in his building it’s that he’s SO. fucking. good. at facades.)

(Don't go round the back.)

Neither of them are ready for the death game to repeat.

DIVORCE (Traumatic) – Last Life, Season 8

Second death game. Grian deals with his trauma super well by isolating Scar, stealing all his friends, tricking a life out of him, dropping his horse in lava, forcing him into an extortion death loop, then abandoning him and—just as a bonus—murdering Mumbo as well.

This time it’s Scar who comes back falling apart.

A theory that seems plausible: Scar’s old friend Cub picks him up, puts him back together, gets him on his feet. What we do know is that Cub moves in next to Boatem, where Scar is still living with Grian, and incidentally builds an enormous dripstone megabiome that is coincidentally very hostile and might murder you upon landing if you're someone who flies a lot, or happens to be a bird.

There’s a hole with an endless dark void between Scar and Grian’s Boatem bases. They built it together. It’s around this time they both keep repeatedly falling in it.

DIVORCE (But When It Was Good It Was So Good) – Season 8, Double Life

Then the moon gets big. Gets close. Gravity breaks down and that should be the end, should be a way out of this terrible spiral they're in, surely they're better without each other—

Grian turns up at Scar's base and says: Scar. Build us an escape pod.

—and Scar does.

They go out together. Both of them can feel the pull back into each other’s orbit but they’ll die if they acknowledge it. At the end of it all, the void, the protective suits, the unbearable gravity of falling into space together, of holding each other until another uncertain end. They're nowhere but they're in it together.

Is this a good time for another death game? Of course. How much worse can it get.

Double Life, and this time Scar keeps his distance. My soulmate is this allay! My soulmate is my cat! I don’t need a soulmate. Oh—it’s Grian? This whole time? Hahaha. How funny.

Grian: Soo… do you want to base together?

Scar: Do we have to?

Grian: It…might be nice…?

Scar is wary.

He has been burned.

But the pull is still there. The pull is always there. You can’t forget Grian, but you can blunt the edge of him on your skin. Scar is here to take care of these cat-pandas. Grian can do what he likes.

Cheated of Scar’s full attention, Grian tries to tempt BigB into a pale imitation of the Scarian folie à deux (BigB is a genuinely nice man who does not deserve this).

The rest of the server turn red, one by one. Grian and Scar are the last greens. BigB is audibly nervous when Grian proposes a red-green alliance, even though BigB is the red, he has the power. But Grian can’t escape the rest of the server, and the red hunt begins.

Grian and Scar, hunted—trapped at the top of flaming towers, jumping from heights, chased down like foxes at bay, crammed into boltholes with their hands over each other’s mouths, Grian shrieks and laughs and falls back on Scar and Scar catches him and they’re both as alive and elated as they’ve ever been. Scar dies once to Ren and BigB’s zombies and Grian murders both BigB and Ren in revenge (BigB was right to be nervous). Grian has another unhinged murder plan underway when he dies for the last time.

This whole time, Grian was hit in the face by remembering that when it's good, it's so good.

Scar isn’t surprised. Scar has known that forever.

Back in Hermitcraft, its not magically fixed. They’re not innocent any more. But every time Grian looks at Scar he remembers: when it’s good, it’s so good.

And Scar never forgot.

DIVORCE (We’re In Love And We’re Not Done Yet) – Season 9, Limited Life

By now we're into Season 9. They’re still alive. They always live, they always start again, and the other one is just there. Being, infuriatingly and magnetically, them.

Grian is thoroughly annoyed by Scar’s new allegiance to King Ren, but he keeps coming back to Scarland anyway. Scar, I made you an obstacle course. Scar, stand here and get squashed by this anvil. Scar if you don’t do something I’m going to start a resistance.

Grian pretends King Ren doesn’t exist and he has more important things to do, and pretends this so hard that he incidentally invents a mad science robot pulls them all through into the Empires dimension.

Scar, assuming Grian is doing his own thing, shacks up with Jimmy.

It takes Grian three weeks to notice and be shriekingly outraged.

Scar we’re doing a project. Scar you can’t spend all your time with Jimmy! Join my cult. Get in my shrinking machine. I made you an enchanted netherite bow. I need your allegiance. (Another real quote).

Scar teases Grian for weeks then instantly abandons Jimmy when the choice comes down to him or Grian.

Fourth death game—they’re used to this, now. Nothing too intense. Nothing too weird. Grian can’t help murdering Scar.

At this point, Scar is starting to read it as: I love you.

And that’s how we get to the current Scarian dynamic we know and love of you're the worst and I'm the worst and we've divorced a few time but we still like each other so fucking much.

It's been years. They've killed each other every possible way. These two characters are in love and they're not done yet.

#scarian #grian #goodtimeswithscar #hermitshipping #yes canon IS a grand romantic arc #to be super clear: i don't think any of this was cc intention #but we can have a little narrative framing fun #as a treat #i think nearly all of this is true to canon except some timing vagueness and the dialogue in parentheses #thank you to the hivemind for theory help #long post #glossywrites

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tossawary · 17 days

Text

I was thinking about Xie Lian being able to snap the Xin Mo sword in half with his bare hands again, and then I thought to myself... "Wait, Xie Lian and Luo Binghe interaction could be really cute, though?"

Like, let's say that Xie Lian, during his time as a wandering trash god, accidentally falls into an interdimensional rift and ends up in the SVSSS world. His luck is bad like that. But while this is weird, sure, it's not that bad! The worlds are pretty similar and he can still make his living! So, Xie Lian wanders along as usual, curiously learning about this new world, picking through trash, occasionally punching demonic beasts to death to rescue awed civilians.

And at some point, Xie Lian runs into a young Luo Binghe while he's living on the streets. Let's say that Xie Lian rolls into town shortly before the death of Binghe's adoptive mother, has a few sweet encounters with this cute and kind child who doesn't have much to spare for a trash collector, and is there to comfort his new young friend when Binghe's adoptive mother passes away. Xie Lian is still there when Binghe gets thrown out onto the streets and he agrees to help the boy travel to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect.

So, Binghe gets to spend a month or two as a trash-collecting god's apprentice! He doesn't know that Xie Lian is a god. He suspects that Xie Lian is just a very powerful rogue cultivator who is living very humbly for some reason. The time isn't entirely pleasant, because life is hard and Binghe is grieving, but Xie Lian understands pain very well and is an excellent companion. He sees Binghe safely to Cang Qiong.

At which point, clingy Binghe does not want to separate from this extremely nice person, but Xie Lian insists on it. He wants Binghe to have a better life. He's worried that his bad luck will somehow spread to this poor boy who reminds him of so many other people he's loved and lost. Xie Lian supervises the confusing entrance exam, while the adult Cang Qiong cultivators desperately try to figure out who this strange person is (Airplane Bro is going "???!!!"), and then leaves wistfully. Binghe will later look back on this particular period of his life very fondly.

Xie Lian can then go in and out of the SVSSS plot as a person pleases! I think it would be very funny if Liu Qingge ended up with an unwilling crush on Xie Lian as well, when they have a spar for some reason and Xie Lian handily SLAMS him into the ground. Xie Lian would probably end up running into Tianlang-Jun and Zhuzhi-Lang somehow, both of whom I think would end up being a little obsessed with him.

I think that the best place to bring Xie Lian and Binghe back together is maybe after Binghe escapes the Endless Abyss. So that Binghe can have a nice cry session on Xie Lian's shoulder. Xie Lian can possibly then introduce Binghe to Tianlang-Jun and Zhuzhi-Lang. Or else generally fumble his way through facilitating Bingqiu actually communicating and being less of a painful mess. Shen Qingqiu (Shen Yuan) is very confused by this character?! Where did he come from??? Who is he??? He's very nice, though, and Shen Qingqiu is feeling maybe a liiiiittle jealous over Binghe.

(I don't know how to handle the System in this AU, but I do like the idea of the System just... not being able to handle Xie Lian. Xie Lian is a god from a different worldbuild. He kind of just breaks everything.)

(If you want to get a little angsty and ghostly, you could have a plotline in which Xie Lian helps the ghost of Shen Jiu somehow. Qijiu resolution?)

Binghe would probably be open to the idea of getting together with Xie Lian as well as Shen Qingqiu. He has a type! He is full of love! But Xie Lian is definitely not interested and is very good at wiggling away from come-ons, so Binghe respectfully doesn't pursue that passing thought / childhood crush, no matter what Tianlang-Jun is saying about threesomes again.

Binghe ends up using the (tamed? broken?) Xin Mo sword to send Xie Lian (his "gege") back to Xie Lian's own world. (Or Mobei-Jun could maybe do it?) Xie Lian has been gone for years and wants to see how his world is doing. Binghe tearfully promises to visit him regularly and to come get him WHENEVER HE WANTS. Xie Lian pats his head and agrees to stay in touch.

So, then Xie Lian tumbles out back into his own world and into the start of the plot of TGCF. And at any point in the plot of TGCF, he's now able to summon a heavenly demon from another dimension (with a super powerful sword that can move mountains?) who would absolutely be willing to fight all of heaven for him.

Xie Lian generally isn't going to do this, because he doesn't want to involve Binghe in his problems, even though Binghe is CHEWING THE WALLS with the desire to help him in return. However, Xie Lian does really like to go out with Binghe and Shen Qingqiu (and sometimes people like Airplane Bro and Mobei-Jun and Liu Qingge as well) to nice restaurants every other week or so. "So, what's new?" "Oh, I've ascended to heaven again and it's a little troublesome, ha ha. How are you?"

Hua Cheng is... nonplussed. On one hand, he's a little jealous. On the other hand, FINALLY, people can recognize that Xie Lian is the best person in the world. Luo Binghe has GOOD TASTE and is just some well-meaning kid whom Xie Lian likes a lot and who rightly thinks heaven sucks. Hua Cheng is determinedly shaking Luo Binghe's hand and giving him advice from a Ghost King to a future Demon Emperor.

(Tianlang-Jun CANNOT be allowed into Ghost City. He will NOT leave. I think that Hua Cheng is strong enough to throw him out if necessary, but Tianlang-Jun and Zhuzhi-Lang would just keep slipping back in somehow. Permanently banned from the gambling tables no matter what he offers, but Tianlang-Jun is still allowed to hang out at the Ghost City playhouse because he quickly becomes the favorite audience member of all of the ghost actors. He has AWFUL taste. Yin Yu hates this guy.)

(Also, I do think that Xie Lian would not really like the Xin Mo sword at all. E'ming is a beautiful baby boy made from and by Hua Cheng, who is Xie Lian's favorite person in the world who has never done anything wrong ever. Xin Mo is some random blade that destroys Luo Binghe's mental health and turns him into the worst version of himself! Xie Lian could and possibly should snap that possession sword like a twig.)

#tossawary svsss #tossawary tgcf #xie lian #luo binghe #fic ideas #xie lian and luo binghe au #long post

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moon-tell-me · 5 months

Text

Them having a crush on you...

The outsiders (separate) x GN! reader

Warnings: nothing I don't think :))

DARRY CURTIS

It's been a reaalllyy long time since he's felt this way for anyone

So a small part of him is excited when he realizes it

But the majority of him..?

Well.. that's a different story

He's very busy with work and the family

He just doesn't have any time for love or romance

You understand ://

So it's unlikely he will do much of anything on his own

He will probably even avoid you a bit in hopes of making himself feel better

That being said, if you realize what's going on, and decide to pursue the relationship, he may manage to fit you in his schedule :))

"Hey, Darry.. uhm, could we talk for a second..?" You asked, as you popped up from around the corner, completely catching him off guard. It had been almost two weeks since you two had a proper conversation, and you weren't gonna let it go on any longer.

SODAPOP CURTIS

Okay so this is gonna come as a surprise to no one, but..

Throughout his life he has consistently gotten girlfriends and boyfriends with no issue

Again, no one's surprised

I mean, look at him, he's beautiful

Anyways-

He immediately knows that he likes you

And he very quickly starts planning out how he can go about the situation

It won't take very long for him to make his move, however if you beat him to it, he would definitely be over the moon

There you are, looking as good as ever. He's already decided that he's gonna ask you out later, an- wait.. your walking over to him..?

PONYBOY CURTIS

Poor kid doesn't know wtf is going on at first

All he knows is that he suddenly enjoys your company more then before

It wasn't until you interlocked his fingers with yours one night that he finally became fully aware of his feelings

He is not nearly as subtle about these feelings as he thinks he is.

He's so obvious, you'd have to be pretty inattentive to not notice anything

Based on this, you will likely be making the first move

With a dramatic sigh you let your head fall against his shoulder. The two of you have been studying together for about two hours and your in desperate need of a break. "C'mon, you need to focus." He said, sounding more annoyed then he really was. You grabbed his hand, interlocking your fingers and looking up at him pleadingly. "Pleease.?"

DALLAS WINSTON

Ohh boy

Out of allll the guys in Tulsa, you caught his attention?

Lucky 🙄

I love him sm istg

In all seriousness, this is very new to him

He's not used to genuinely caring about someone

Besides Johnny, he's never really loved anything

He's gonna start off with his typical flirting

That won't change until he realizes his feelings

After that, he switches to being a total jerk to you

Mans does not know how to process his feelings

Just give him time tho, he'll figure it all out

Here you are, sitting on the porch of the Curtis house. It's late and everyone is inside the house, save for you and Dal. He's been real difficult lately, although tonight his attitude has noticably improved. As you watch him struggle to light his cancer stick you can't help but wonder, what did he want to ask you.?

JOHNNY CADE

My sweet, respectful boy

He falls head over heels immediately

Everybody realizes his feelings rather quickly too

Including himself

He's not stupid

He notices how his cheeks get all warm

His hands get all sweaty

His knees feel like they might give out

It's a new feeling for him

For once he has someone touching him without causing him pain

I'm gonna fight his parents- WOAH! Who said that!? 😅

If your the type of person who is really affectionate with your friends (me fr) then you might actually kill the poor kid

He asked Dally for advice only to completely ignore it

Turns out Dally sucks at giving good advice, who woulda known?

He was thankful for how dark it had gotten, otherwise you would be able to see just how red his face had gone. For some reason you had decided it would be a great idea to hold his hand out of nowhere. Why can't you see what your doing to him?

TWO-BIT MATHEWS

You guys prolly met in middle school

He pulled some dumb shii and put gum in your hair or something

After that he often teased you

Referring to you as his girlfriend/boyfriend

You better expect a lot of playful flirting with this one

He pretty much confesses his feelings on the daily tbh

Albeit in a way that makes you think it's a joke

Eventually you just kinda realize that hey, maybe he isn't joking

"See, I always knew we were perfect for each other, ever since that day in sixth grade." He teased, throwing his arm around your shoulder only for you to immediately push it off. "Get off of me, would you?"

#the outsiders x reader #darry Curtis x reader #sodapop x reader #ponyboy x reader #Dallas Winston x reader #Johnny Cade x reader #Two-bit Mathews x reader #Spotify

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captainfern · 1 year

Text

Heart-Shaped Box

Captain John Price x fem!reader

[“Heart-Shaped Box” by Nirvana]

[18+]

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• summary - price gets injured during a mission. you help him feel better lol. • rating - 18+ [mdni] • wordcount - 3.7k • warnings - fem!reader, a bit of sub!price, unprotected piv, praise kink [price is called a good boy], oral [m!receiving], orgasm denial? idk probably, riding, mentions of threesome, strong language, a bit of violence/blood

that gif makes me fucking feral

i want him and his silly hat

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The taskforce had been separated, having each pursued completely different targets. Comms were down and that left you hauntingly alone.

You had hunted down your target. Piece of cake. But now, leaving his body submerged in a flooded ditch, you walked aimlessly though the long grass of a sprawling paddock.

Every few minutes, you tapped at the communication collar around your throat. You called to your comrades— Ghost, Soap, Gaz— but no one responded. Static filled your ears.

With an angry huff, you switched the device on and off again, before giving up entirely. The sun would set in a couple of hours, and you did not want to be stranded alone in unknown countryside.

Up ahead, a woodland. It was shadowed, tall trees brushing the dusky blue sky. There were no houses in sight, and you were beginning to grow tired.

When you reached the tree line of the woodland, your comms erupted in a burst of static that made you flinch. A patchy voice filtered into your ear, and you clawed desperately at the buttons on your collar in a poor attempt to improve the quality.

“Sergeant? You copy?”

It was Price. Well thank fuck for that.

You felt like you wanted to sob, throat stinging as the deep vibrato of his voice soothed something within you.

“Copy,” you breathed a sigh of relief. “Where are you?”

“At one of the safe houses. Are the boys with you?”

“No, no, it’s just me.”

You heard Price curse, then: “So you’re alone?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright, tell me where you are. Describe your surroundings for me.”

You did as you were told. The sun was setting in front of you. There was a darkening woods in front of you too, with rolling green paddocks stretching to your left and right. Behind you was a desolate dirt track, complete with a flooded ditch, and a dead insurgent.

“Head towards the sun, straight through the woods,” Price instructed. “Cross the stream and keep walking. You’ll see the house.”

Ever the loyal soldier, you did exactly as you were told.

•°•

As the sun began to set, you stumbled through the front door of a small farmhouse, evidently falling apart at the edges. The brick exterior was encrusted thick with lichen, and the wooden window frames were weathered and crumbling.

Price had made himself comfortable inside; lounging on a dusty old couch in front of a raw brick fireplace. He hadn’t lit it, but judging by the smoke, he settled for puffing on a cigar.

It hung loosely from his lips as he turned his head to face you, a newspaper folded across his lap.

“You killed the insurgent?” Was the first thing he said.

You ripped off your comms collar angrily, spitting out a bitter yes before dropping your pack and walking into the kitchen. You got yourself a glass of water and gulped it down, placing the glass into the sink before walking into the main room of the farmhouse.

You slumped onto the other end of the couch. Price watched you, one arm stretched out along the backrest; the other moving to hold his cigar aloft as he puffed out a cloud of greyish smoke.

“I heard from the boys about twenty minutes ago,” Price said, thumbing the waxy paper of his cigar. “They’re an hour east. Together. We’ll regroup in the morning.”

You nodded, eyes drifting closed. The mission adrenaline had run out, and exhaustion was creeping into your bones.

You heard Price chuckle. “Tired?”

“Mhm.”

“Get some rest,” he said, tossing the remains of his cigar into the empty fireplace. “You deserve it.”

•°•

It was very, very early when you woke up with a start. It was still pitch black outside, constellations twinkling overhead. You blinked through the darkness of the room you were in, straining your ears as you listened to rummaging somewhere down the hall.

You got out of bed, snatching your pistol from off the nightstand, creeping out the door and down the hall. A flickering light was on in the main room of the farmhouse, and you poked your head warily around the corner.

Price was awake, sitting on the couch. He was sitting in just his work pants; his chest bare and, you realised, smeared with blood. You entered the room and put your pistol on the kitchen countertop as you passed it.

Grunting in pain beneath his breath, Price was attempting to wrap a wound on his shoulder. Dark rivers of blood flowed from his bruised flesh, down his pec and along the soft lines of his stomach.

“You didn’t tell me you were hurt.” You said, approaching him.

“Didn’t think it mattered.” He replied, not looking at you.

You sighed, sitting next to him on the couch. He finally looked at you, complexion pale in the flickering light.

“Can I help you?” You nodded at the wound and, with a small grunt, Price angled his body towards you.

It was a stab wound. Not too big, not too deep, but still enough that blood was oozing continuously. You picked up from where he left it: wrapping fresh gauze around the wound as tight as possible without cutting circulation.

“How does that feel?” You asked, running your fingers gently over the gauze.

He huffed, a breath of cigar smoke and mint. “Good, love. Good.”

You ignored the term of endearment, but suddenly became hyper-aware of how close you were to sitting on your captain’s lap: legs brushing, chest just inches from his. His breathing fluttered the baby hairs near your forehead.

You cleared your throat. “Did you want some pain relief? I can check my pack. I should have some morphine somewhere, or maybe ketamine—”

He shook his head with a grimace. “I’m alright. Just… just sit with me for a bit.”

“Oh…” You blinked up at him. “Okay. Yeah.”

He exhaled through his nose, reclining in the chair and closing his eyes. You watched the way his chest rose and fell, strong abdomen moving up and down. It was still streaked with blood, so an idea came to mind.

You pattered into the kitchen, grabbed a cloth and wet it, entering the main room once more. You then began to clean Price’s blood away. Price jolted when the wet cloth hit his bare skin.

“What are—?”

“Just cleaning you up.”

“You don’t have—”

“It’s fine, captain. I really want to help.”

His eyes darkened, but he said nothing else. He just watched you clean the blood out of his skin. Once you disposed of the cloth, you retook your place on the couch beside him. He was appraising you with a curious look. One that made you suddenly shy.

“Is… is there anything else I can do to help you?” You asked, voice quiet.

There were several things you wanted to do for him. Things you had thought about for months. But, he was your boss, your captain, and you should be ashamed to ever think—

“A kiss better would be nice.”

Excuse me.

You stared at him, waiting for him to laugh and reveal that, haha, it was a joke. Hilarious!

…But he didn’t.

He peered down at you through long lashes, a tiny smile twitching at the corners of his lips. You met his gaze, confused. But you could feel your cheeks growing embarrassingly hot.

“You…? Are you joking?” You whispered, dumbfounded and at a loss for any other words to express yourself.

He shook his head gently. “No, this is a serious matter, sergeant. I do believe a kiss would make me feel a lot better.”

You bit your lip, and Price followed the movement with dilated pupils. “Just… okay, just a kiss?” You uttered, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

“Just a kiss.” He whispered, almost as if he couldn’t believe what the fuck he was saying.

Steeling your nerves, you leaned in and cupped his face, placing your lips gently to his. He hummed, satisfied, as he kissed you back. After a few thumping beats of your heart, you pulled away. He pressed his forehead to yours and you both breathed hard.

You stared at each other, consumed by each other’s space, presence. You could feel how warm he was. How safe he was.

“I think I might need a bit more than that to really make sure I’m feeling better.” Price quipped, before slamming his mouth back onto yours.

He dragged his tongue along the seam of your lips and you parted them: allowing him access. He deepened the kiss and lifted his good arm, resting a large hand on the back of your head. His not-so-good arm found a gentle place on your hip.

“We shouldn’t…” You gasped.

“You want to stop?”

“No.”

He smiled against your mouth, tongue smoothing against yours. “Didn’t think so.”

You whined into the kiss, and he groaned out in response. Everything about him was warm: his mouth, his tongue, his hands. You were heating up at the way he held you to him. Your mind was hazy, dizzy with lust.

“Shit—” Price pulled back to growl, shifting his injured shoulder away. You flinched, suddenly remembering that he was, in fact, still injured.

“Captain, oh my god, I am so sorry—”

“Wasn’t you, love,” he grimaced, leaning his back against the couch. He took a deep breath. “Just stings a bit.”

“I offered you pain relief—”

“And I refused.”

You rolled your eyes. “Stubborn bastard.”

He chuckled darkly. “Is that any way to talk to your captain?” He then gestured to his lap, urging you to sit. You looked at him challengingly. You were suddenly in the mood to challenge your captain. Great idea, sergeant.

“What do you want?” You asked, faux innocence in your tone. “You’ve got to tell me, captain.”

You expected a snide reply. A witty comeback that would get you all hot and flustered. But instead, he groaned, low in his throat.

“Want you.”

It took a few seconds for you to comprehend his tone. The need in his voice. The whine. You fought a smile from your face.

“Want me? Want me to do what?” You slid closer, a hand on his thigh. “Come on, Price. You’re my captain for a reason. Give me proper orders.”

He was breathing heavily. Panting as he stared at you. His cock was hard, tenting his pants. When he responded, his voice was hoarse, strained with pleasure and tobacco smoke. “Want you to suck my cock.”

You smiled, slipping off the couch and onto your knees in front of him. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” You mused, shuffling between his spread legs and beginning to unzip his pants. His hips bucked involuntarily, and you used the motion to slip his pants further down his legs.

You leaned closer, running your fingers along the waistband of his boxers, just skimming the solid imprint of his cock. He huffed above you, breathing erratically as he watched you.

“Please, love. Come on.”

You hummed, dipping your hand into his boxers and pulling his cock free. When your fingers enclosed around him, Price let out a low moan, shooting his good hand down to grip your hair.

“Fuck sake—” He choked as you pressed a kiss to his tip, flushed red and already leaking.

You smiled to yourself. He was warm and throbbing in your hand and you realised that you did that. You made your captain like this.

“Use that pretty mouth, love, come on.” Price breathed, pushing your head gently. Your lips nudged his tip again and he sighed. “Want your mouth.”

You obliged, wrapping your lips around him and dragging them downwards. He groaned deeply, fingers tight in your hair as you took his cock deeper into the heat of your mouth. The tip hit the back of your throat and you resisted the urge to gag, tears appearing in your waterline.

“So good, so good…” Price was mumbling as you began a comfortable pace; bobbing up and down with his hand in your hair. He wasn’t altering your pace in any way. His hand simply remained a firm comfort.

You felt his thighs flex beside your head, hips twitching as you sucked. Saliva pooled past your lips, down the length of him. You used a hand to smear it around the base. He cursed at that, sending a throb of arousal to your cunt.

“So good, love,” he repeated, pupils blown as he looked down at you. “Better than I imagined. Fucked my fist to the thought of your mouth so many times, jus’ thinking about your pretty lips wrapped all nice around my cock.”

You blinked tears away from your eyes and he moved his injured arm to your face. He wiped the tears with his thumb. He then pressed his thumb to the seam of your lips, feeling where his cock was essentially choking you. You whined up at him, and he smiled back.

“Such a good sergeant, sucking her captain’s cock.” He said, retracting his hand.

He had gained a bit of cockiness, noted. But you smiled internally. That wouldn’t last.

You quickened your pace, swirling your tongue around his cock until you felt it twitching in your mouth. He had gone quiet now— words replaced by airy grunts and groans as he held your head, bucking his hips. He was close, judging by the way his tip flooded pre along your tongue, and how his fingers began to tighten in your hair.

“Love, gonna—”

You pulled away, gripping his cock firmly at the base. He let out a soft gasp, wrenching his eyes open to look down at you. You licked your lips, saliva dripping down your chin. You wiped it away with the back of your hand.

He frowned at you. “What—?”

“Consider that punishment for not telling me you were hurt.” You battered your eyelashes at him as you crawled onto his lap, still holding his cock.

It was wet with your saliva, the tip flushed red. It was hot in your hand, twitching against your palm as both of you looked down at it. Price rested his forehead against yours, breath coming in pants as you lazily started stroking him. Your soft touch, your warmth, your perfume. You were going to be the death of him.

“Need you love, please.” He whispered, shifting his forehead to rest in the crook of your neck. He kissed the skin above your shirt, sucking a hickey onto the sensitive flesh.

You withheld a moan. “Need what? Need me to do what? You’ve gotta tell me, captain. Come on.”

He whined into your neck. Your cunt throbbed at that. Skimming his teeth along your neck, he pulled back, lips flushed and eyes glassy as he looked up at you. He had both his hands on the small of your back, pushing you closer to him.

“Need your cunt,” he whined, low. “Need that tight fucking cunt around my cock. Need to feel it, love, please.”

Who were you to deny your captain of his request?

You slowly, tantalisingly brought your shirt over your head. With no bra, your tits fell freely in front of his face and you saw his eyes light up like a teenage boy. His mouth was immediately on them, sucking bruising marks around your nipples.

You let a groan slip past your lips as you worked your pants off, struggling but eventually managing to slide them onto the floor while still situated on Price’s lap. When you had done that, he was finishing his hickeys on your other breast, chest moving rapidly against you.

“Perfect,” He whispered as he pulled away, moving his hands to cup your tits. “You’re absolutely perfect, aren’t you, sergeant?”

“Only for you, captain.” You took his good hand and guided it down to your underwear. You pushed his fingers against your clothed core, leaning towards him and moaning softly in his ear.

“Feel how wet you make me,” you purred. “I’ve fucked myself so many times thinking about you, your fingers, your cock. Wanted you for so long.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he grit his teeth, rubbing your wet core through the cotton of your underwear. He then moved them to the side, rubbing a finger along your slit with a groan. “You’re soaked, love. Want my cock that bad, huh? What would the boys think if they saw how needy you were for their captain? Ghost would be beside himself.”

You smiled, biting back a moan. Your hands were around his neck, careful of his shoulder, and you steadied yourself, rocking gently in his lap. He watched you with a calculating gaze, and he tutted gently at you, still stroking your cunt with a thick finger.

“You naughty girl. You want the boys to know? Want Ghost to know?” He mused, angling his hips so your clothed cunt rubbed against his cock. “Want him to fuck you, too?”

You moaned.

He took that as your answer.

“Yeah? Want your lieutenant to fuck your tight cunt as well?” He ripped your underwear off your body, causing you to gasp, the impact stinging the sides of your thighs. “Want us both? Want Ghost and me? Naughty fucking girl, eh?”

You moaned, your plan to challenge your captain slipping away. But you were desperate to hold onto it. So, with one last shaky breath, you dragged his hand away from your throbbing cunt and turned the tables.

“You’d love it,” you said, sucking his finger into your mouth. “You’d love to watch Ghost fuck me, wouldn’t you? Love to see me come apart on his cock while you fuck my mouth. You’d love it, wouldn’t you, captain?”

You got him again.

He groaned, tossing his head back and bucking his hips to try and bring friction to his cock. But you lifted your hips, your dripping cunt just out of his reach. He moved his finger from your mouth and settled both hands on your hips.

He kissed you, and you let him. His tongue brushed against yours, claiming. His taste was intoxicating.

“Let me take care of you.” You said softly as you pulled away.

He nodded, resting comfortably on the couch with his hands on your hips. You positioned yourself with your entrance above his cock. Gripping him, you ran his tip through your wet folds, causing him to release a noise, a mix between a sigh and a growl.

“Be a good boy, captain, and let me take care of you.” You whispered as you sank down on his cock.

The noise that elicited from his mouth was jaw-dropping. He released a breathy moan, followed by a series of deep pants as you slowly, slowly dragged yourself back up, and then slammed yourself back onto him. He screwed his eyes shut, head tossed over the back of the couch as you moved against him. He was puffing out small moans, deep from his throat.

“Fuck, fuck, just like that—” he whined, gripping your hips harder. “Just like that, love. Fuck, feels so good on my cock. Taking me so— ha—fuck— good, love.”

You were making him a whiny mess beneath you. Mission successful, you smiled as you fucked yourself on his cock. The blunt head of it slammed repeatedly into the spot inside you that made you moan and soak him even more. Butterflies flew around your insides. The insides of your belly were growing hot.

Price opened his eyes, looking down at where his cock entered you again and again. “Taking my cock so well, love. Look at you. So good for me. So good for your captain.”

Your cunt ached around his cock, clit pulsing with its own heartbeat. You were sensitive and needy and really wanted to cum. The sensations inside you were building, but you wanted to try something again—

“You’re my good boy, aren’t you, Price?” You squeezed his cock tighter. “Such a good boy, fucking me so good. Isn’t that right?”

A beat passed and you wondered if you’d crossed a line. But—

He let out a loud, breathy whine: something that did not sound like it belonged to him. He stuffed his face into the crook of your neck again, moaning into your skin, whimpering softly as he rutted into you harder.

“Yeah, love. I’m your good boy.” It was quiet, almost inaudible, but it was there.

Enough so that your orgasm hit you out of nowhere and you came with a moan of his name. You burst around his cock, cum splattering through his pubic hair and up the line of hair on his abdomen.

He groaned into your neck, thrusts sloppy and erratic and desperate. He dragged his teeth along your skin.

“Gonna cum, love. Please— ha, shit— let me cum inside you— hngh— please.” He mumbled against your neck.

Becoming slightly overstimulated— he was fucking you hard, after all— you nodded feverishly. “Cum inside me, Price. Wanna feel you.”

With one last dragged-out moan, he came, your name on his lips.

Ropes of warmth filled you, flooding around his cock as he breathed frantically against your neck. It spilled out onto his lap, making the backs of your thighs all sticky.

Gently, you rubbed his back with one hand, massaging his scalp with the other. He groaned lowly, still attached to your neck, lazily sucking another bruise there.

“Feel better?” You asked, holding him close to you as his hands moved from your hips, circling around your middle to push your body against his.

“Much better,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

“S’all right. What kind of sergeant would I be if I didn’t look after my captain?”

He finally looked up, giving you a stern look. But you couldn’t take him seriously when his face was all flushed, eyes glossy and lips rouged. You smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

A few quiet moments passed, basking in each other’s presence, wrapped in each other’s arms.

Then, Price cleared his throat. “So, you want Ghost to fuck you?”

“You like being called a good boy?”

He went quiet.

You laughed. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

He pressed his head back into the slope of your neck. “Deal.”

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

#captain price x reader #captain john price x you #cod price #price x reader #price smut #captain price smut #cod mw2 #call of duty mw2 #call of duty #captain john price x female reader #captain john price #cod smut #fem reader #captain price #captainfern #captain’snirvana

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vanya-evergreen · 13 days

Text

How to remember. (chapter 2)

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Relationship: BatFam x reader (platonic)

Summary: At the age of 11, you woke up in an other world without any guidance and all the money you once lacked. You were left with only your memories and your other memories.

You tired to remember, their life, but it seemed like they didn't want you too. So when trying to navigate the intricate sides of an elite school , but you always got in trouble when it came to faces and names.

CW: life threatening situation, panic, knife, blood (no death)

No use of y/n

Wc:6k

A/N- Prologue will be posted in a few days., this is chapter was originally written with out the outline but got one halfway through so if there are inconstancies please tell me.

“Welcome the 9 pm GBC News, we are currently following batman and robin while they pursue-” Click

You are hanging upside down on your couch, clicking through the local news channels trying to find the best view of the chase. Your laptop was discarded besides you. It’s open to an article from years ago about Dick Grayson ‘soaring through’ the annual charity ball on the chandler when he first was adopted into the Wayne family. There were multiple other browsers open, all on the Wayne Family and their lucrative businesses and charities, along with their scandals too.

You said you would do your research.

Your attention was taken away from this ‘research’ as a new alert about Batman and Robin chasing some nameless villain, who had kidnapped some poor boy, on founders island came up. No new station could find a good angle, you were annoyed.

“Damn you!” you toss the remote to the other side of the coach, quickly you flip yourself around to sit up right. You push your feet out to propel yourself off of the coach. You mumble about how they do it on purpose, they were trying to make you read their shit article. You had to wait for social media to do its thing of supplying you with clips of your favorite heroes (well not absolute favorites). You look around the apartment, for something new or interesting but nothing. Now, your apartment was nothing to overlook, it always seems to have been updated without you knowing. It always had the latest tech, or trendiest look. You have been rich for 7 years now and still can't seem under it.

You walk over to the floor to ceiling windows, looking down you see people walking home or to a club, taxis and cars driving in opposite directions. Slowly the news faded to the back of your mind.

Nights in Gotham were always busy, especially near Old Gotham. It was rich with history and culture, and also money too. When you first woke up in this world you wanted to visit every place possible. You went to museums, office buildings, the GCDP nearby, and shops you had never even heard of. You used to stand out on the corner of the street watching the luxury cars pass by, while your ‘Assistant’, Val Miller, carried bags from the toy store you frequented, or the candy stores you couldn’t help but indulge in. You looked up at the neighboring building, the neon lights danced in your eyes. There was one that always caught your eye.

You went into that office building, or Wayne tower, once. You were dressed like a typical kid or preteen, you wouldn’t stop looking at all the expansive interior.The front desk workers thought it was the funniest thing that a kid was excited to be there. They gave you a small tour of the base floor level and let you answer some calls. It was great for you. You were just a kid when you came here, and even now you are just a kid. Everything was new and shiny to you.

This place is a far cry from your home near the east end of gotham. There was a high rate of villain bases and criminal activity in your area. While it wasn’t the safest environment for you as a child, it is what you knew. It’s where you learned to survive, how to live. So you tried your best to protect your small place of peace, your shabby second floor apartment. Full of splitters waiting to happen and ready to cause a concussion at any moment, it was far from ideal, but it had running water, gas, and occasionally heat. You lived with your mother, she was a brilliant flash of light in the darkest corner of Gotham. While she was no saint, she did what she could with what she had.

“___” a gravelly voice with an Australian accent called you. You snap back to reality quickly. You turn your head to see Val holding a dish of food for you. “You're doing it again.” He doesn’t really have the butler look, well built, around mid to late 40’s (you never found the right time to ask) and as many people have said he’s a DILF, even though he isn’t a dad.

When you ‘first’ met him when you woke up here, you felt weird calling him your butler, as you had suddenly become rich. You told him that you call him advisor, but he refused. You fought a bit with him on this. In the end, you started calling him your assistant instead, he didn’t like this but dealt with it.

“Yeah, I know.” You nod, you turn back to the window. “What should I be doing instead? My school work?” You say with an assumed grin. You had already finished all the school work available.

“You should be eating.” he steps closer and shoves the dish into your hand. “If you want to return home you need food, think of a way to do that.” you look down at the food. He was one of few people that knew some of your predicament. You wish it was only you who knew anything, but it did make blending in easier.

“I was going to get Batburger later.” You push the food around, you know it tastes good. You just feel bad for eating food that never felt like it was made for you.

“Yeah,” he places a hand on your head “but you have had it every night for the past week.” he smiles, pushing your head down while messing with your hair. “So if you don’t want me to put you on house arrest this weekend, I recommend you eat up.”

“Okay.” You begrudgingly agree, taking a few bites. It was, of course, amazing. You went back to your laptop, scrolling through the gossip article as you ate. You reloaded the page.

“How was school today?” He sits down on the opposite side of the couch, the news still going on in the background. “And don't just say that it was school;” he cracked a smile as he did a horrible imitation of your voice “give me a real answer.”

“Well, uh I met someone new today” You say while you are reading about him and his entire family tree. “It was kinda a rough start though.”

“Oh wow! That's the most I have ever gotten out of ya!’ You gave him a look, he backed off “How was it a ‘rough start’?”

You take a few more bites of your food, you reload the page hoping for some newer article to pop up. You read through the titles. “Uh well I ran into him, and didn’t properly apologize,” Val bursts out with laughter, “we fought a bit, we had the classic ‘i don't know your family’ talk.” you say absently mindly, you are stuck on one particular headline. “ I apologized later and we talked a bit.”

“Well that's just funny.” He struggles to regain his composure, “So who was he?” He smiled to himself.

“Damian Wayne.” you read the headline again, ‘ insider look ahead for the outfit for the yearly wayne enterprise charity ball…’ You clicked on the article and skimmed through the first paragraphs, ‘held at Wayne tower…’. Now you just felt stupid. You look from your computer to ask Val a question, but he seemed to blank at the mention of Damian. “So uh- did where is the mail? I am expecting something.” you interrupted Val’s internal monologue.

“It’s on the table,” he blinks a few times, “he didn’t recognize you right?” you get up from the couch and walk to the dining table.

“You and I both know what I will say to that.” You look back at him with an indifferent look. You find a pile of mail on the table, wow it had to be at least years worth of mail. Note to self, read the mail.’ you begin to go through the mail mountain.

“Okay, but how did you tell him? Does he only know your name?” You look up for a moment, then look back down. You started sorting the mail into several piles.

“He knows my name and that I have an engineering class” You find mostly spam and some magazines you don’t remember signing up for, but about half through the pile you find an envelope with an elegant print of the front reading ‘Wayne enterprises’ You tear it open.

“Okay, but did you not know the Wayne family?” Val walked over to the other side of the table trying to get a glance at what you are reading. “Aren't you from Gotham in the other world too?”

“Another question you already have an answer to.” The card was a few months ago, it was an invite to this weekend Charity ball, it had no RSVP deadline. Maybe you will cause some chaos this weekend. You put that card to the side and start pulling out every envelope with a similar appeal to it. There were about 5 in the past year sent to you.

“What are you expecting today?” Val picked up an envelope and looked over it. He turns it over and starts picking at the wax seal. You quickly take it from his hands and flip it over to the front. It was another card from the Waynes, but much more recent.

“Don't you know it's a federal crime to open mail not addressed to you?” You tear it open, disregarding the care put into sealing it. ‘Another invite to the ball thing.’ You picked up the first one sent a few months ago. You could tell based on the wording the newer one seemed more of a notification that your attendance was expected then a pleasant reminder of an event you could go to. “Damn.”

“What?” Val tries to read the card but you close it and toss it on the ground.”What so wrong?” you walk away as He picks up the card.

“ It seems like I have something to do this weekend.” You flop back down on the couch, and pick up your phone to call someone. Val makes a face at the card.

“ ‘Wayne enterprise is excited for you to be in attendance of this year's Charity ball, we can not wait to see you’ “ He reads aloud, “did you rsvp to this?” he didn’t seem as energetic as before.

“No,” You dial the number of the other assistant. “I didn’t even see it until tonight.” They pick up rather quickly “Hey Percy, yeah it’s been awhile. I need clothes for an event.” you bite your fingernails, Percy was less than happy with you.”Yeah I know, but i didn’t know i was going until like 3 minutes ago.” They nag you for a while , “what event? Uh- The Wayne charity ball…” It was quiet on the other line for a good while, then they scream into the phone. “Calm down please! I just need to know if you do it or not. You can? Really? Thank you so much!”

“Wow, they are in their mid 30’s and already growing white hair from you.” Val puts the card on the table, then turns towards you. “Why do you have to go?”

“Well, they are expecting me.” Precy hangs up on you. You turn off your phone and place it on the table. “Plus I think it’s about time I understand more about my family.”

“There is no way for me to stop you, is there?” Val places a hand on the edge of the couch and leans on it.

“Nope!” You get up and grab your phone, leaving your mostly eaten food and laptop to be disregarded until tomorrow. Then turn off the tv. “And seeing as I have stuff today and tomorrow now, I am going to sleep so I recommend you do the same.” You tease.

“Mhm, like you're going to sleep at only 10 pm.” you walk past val and stick your tongue out “Hey!” he tries to grab you shoulder but you are already running up the stair.

“See you tomorrow Val!” You cheerfully shout down the stairs as you shut your door.

Your room is dark, only illuminated by light of the city shining through your window. The room itself was large, too large in your opinion, with a king size bed in the middle, and the bathroom on the right with an attached walk-in-closet. You have a full computer setup with multiple screens on the adjacent wall centered between the fireplace and window. Yeah, this world’s you is, probably, fucking loaded. You didn’t really do much with the setup, honestly it just appeared one day. You asked Val and Percy about it but they had nothing to do with it. So just like the apartment being renovated randomly, you have a computer set up worth at least 10 k. You are really out of touch with what happens here.

The room wasn’t lifeless, there were photos of the other, but younger. They all seemed formal, and posed. A few awards from competitions they did, academic achievements too. It was too stiff for you. Now don't think you haven’t put some stuff up. Some Batman stuff you had collected for fun, some posters, a few photos of You Val and Precy from your past birthdays, and more photos of your friend group throughout the years. You have some leftover stuff from your past hobbies you tried to fill the boredom (tennis wasn’t as fun as it seemed), plants that have lived despite you forgetting to water them. Overall, the room didn’t feel like your space entirely but it did have that piece of you in it, so it was better than most of the apartment.

You are still in your school uniform. You know it would probably be best to shower tomorrow but you just need something to feel a bit better because last minute plans aren’t really your thing. You walk into the bathroom and turn on the light, it was covered in marble for whatever reason, rich people shit. You took off your school jacket and turned on the shower. You wait for the shower to warm up then hop in. The school weeks feel like they are getting longer as you reach closer to the end of the school year, and the end of your high school career. That was even scary to think about.

You didn’t have a plan for after high school, or atleast beyond going to gotham university or whatever university who would send you a letter about possibly joining their program. GCU was more likely just because it's easier for your plans, but who knows? Maybe you should leave and explore the world a bit. You can’t remember the last time you had a vacation outside of New jersey.

After you finished, your muscles felt relaxed and the fact you got to your closet was unbelievable to you. You picked out some pajamas and put them on. Your mom always wanted you to explore the world rather than being tied to Gotham like her. It wasn’t all that realistic because you didn’t have the connections or the money. You and her would daydream together talking about all the things and places you would see. Her smile was infectious to you, it was warm and sweet. She was a good parent, well when she was there. You splash water on your face and wash your face. Then brush your hair and teeth.

You stare out the window for a bit, you recall your mom used to tell you about something similar to the view in front of you. You were too young to know anything about your mom’s past but you did know that she wasn’t always poor and that she willingly left that life to protect you from whatever it is. You love her even now.

You fall on to the bed, it feels nice after a long day. You pick up your phone and scroll through social media looking for clips of Batman and Robin. They are still chasing the man, but they are closer to your area now. You watched some clips of the duo swing around the city. Wow this guy is giving them some trouble tonight. The clips are a lot better than what the news was putting out earlier, that just the power of the fans, it was scary.

You scroll through videos and pictures of them, while most were blurry it was still super cool to see them in action. You find a live stream from a drone of Batman and Robin fighting in a familiar building. You watch for 15 minutes, until the man leaps from that build to a lower one. ‘No fucking way-’ You sit up in your bed to see the foot of the man coming toward your window.

Crash

Instinctively you raise your arms to cover your face from the glass. You lower your arms and see there are 3 more people in the room. That man is in the same room as you. Batman and Robin are in the same room as you.

The man points a gun at you from across the room, and very quickly your sleepy mind wakes up. Batman throws a batarang hitting the gun, it falls to the ground and slides across the ground. Robin takes the man by surprise when he grabs him by his shirt and knocks him on the side of the head. Robin gets in a few more punches before the man pulls back his head and headbutts Robin. Making Robin lose his grip on him. He wasn’t free for long.

Batman had slipped behind Robin and the man after the second punch. The man pulls a smoke bomb out of his jacket and presents it to Batman as the smoke bellows out of it. He attempts to make his escape out the broken window but robin uses his grappling hook to pull him back into the room. The man hits the wall opposite of the window. He looks for any leverage he can get over them. Then he sees you. He rips you from your bed and puts a knife to your neck.

“Don’t move or I will kill them.” the man spoke calmly, he held you tightly against his chest. You straighten your neck trying to avoid the knife on your neck.Batman seems to stare weirdly at you, a look of familiarity.

“I was about to fall asleep, man.” you laughed, this was your poor way of dealing with the possibility of death right in front of your face. Robin makes eye contact with you, he starts reaching for his sword. The man presses the knife closer to your throat, and Batman stops Robin.

“Robin has a sword?” You gawk out. You could see your tombstone now. ‘ ___ ___, their last action was being a fan of batman and robin.’ What a great thing for it to say.

“Let them go.” Batman is as stoic as ever, you love that about batman. You admire his devotion to Gotham and how even in the face of controversy his belief never waver. Batman signals for him to put away the sword.

“But-” Robin tries to argue, Batman and him exchange a look. Robin stalls in putting away his sword but he does eventually.

“What do you want?” Batman's voice cracks ever so slightly. Robin glances at Batman before looking back at you and the man.

“You know what I want” the man laughs, “I want the world to see the truth for once!” Of course it’s a classic case of them thinking they know the truth. They think they have found the dirty truth that the government has hidden from the masses. “They need to know of the birds,” it is about a bird great, “the birds that control the city from right under our noses.” Your skin crawls. “They live in the shadows.” he presses harder on your throat.

You have been in situations like this before, having a knife close to your throat is nothing new to you. You try to keep your focus on Batman and Robin for the moment. Robin seems more defensive than what you have seen in the videos, but everything is downplayed in videos right? Batman, he seems off, like almost you could see the slightest panic in his stance. Batman never shows panic. You have had to read people's body language for all 18 years of your life. From the 11 spent in your original life and 7 here. You have gotten pretty good at accurately reading people's intention and emotions just from a single glance. You know Batman is unsure of what to do here.

“You don’t have to bring innocent civilians into this .” Batman masks his worry well, better than most. Robin wasn’t any better, he looked like he was going to bite the man. Robin did look like a biter.

“You are going to listen to me batman,” Your skin feels like it’s slowly peeling aways from the way the man's words hit your neck,”You are going to let me go, let me get away.” You can hear your heart quicken. “They are going to come with me” Your heart drops. Robin runs up from the side to the man, jumps and tries to kick him in the face and to meet the side of your face instead of the man’s. Robin quickly twists himself mid-air to avoid your face. Then repealing himself off the wall and back to where he was.

While you couldn’t see the man's entire body, you knew that if it was in between him getting away and your life, you would lose. You start spiraling, going down every rabbit hole of possibilities and outcomes. You run through everything, you grasp at every possible combination of words you can say.

“Ha.” was the only sound you can make. A tired, half-assed, chuckle was all you could get out. You take a deep breath in, holding it, you reconsidering your life choices one more time. You know only to do one thing, one really stupid thing.

You scream, full lung scream, that slices the tense air turning it into a fight for your life. Everyone stops. You grab onto the hand of the man that holds the knife and bend forward, still screaming. While the knife presses into your throat, cutting it slightly. You are able to flip the man onto his back. You jump onto him and start throwing punches blindly.

Slowly a ringing in your grew as the punches became more consistent in the force and speed. You notice the man's hand coming towards with the knife. You caught it mid air.

“Ha” You let out another breathy laugh. You regain most of your conscience because of the cut on your hand, but you still feel dazed. You knew that this wasn’t your doing, if you had your mind you would probably be trying to come up with any way of explaining this, but you couldn’t think of that now.

You drop the knife, with your hand bleeding and kick it back toward Batman. You watch the man struggle to get up, you kick the man over and over again with the speed a precision of someone who trained in martial arts. He takes out another hidden knife and goes to stab it in your leg. You grab his hand right as it barely precise your skin. you bring his arm behind his back, rendering him unable to move. He looks over his shoulder, making eye contact with. He smiles at you “you are one of them” You push him deeper in the wall. He was struggling to breathe at this point. You would have killed the man from that force but the ringing in your ear grows quieter and you become more aware.

You loosen up and you rip off a part of your pants and grab his other hand and tie them together. You push the man towards Batman and Robin.

“You must listen to me! The people need to-” The man was cut off by Robin stuffing a tennis ball into his mouth and forcing him into Batman. Batman takes actual cuffs out of his utility belt and cuffs him. Robin kicks the back of knees, making them buckle underneath him. He tries to shout but his words are lost to the void.

Your hands run through your hair, gripping it as you realize you almost killed a man. You are aware of what you did. You knew the other you had studied martial art, but just not to what extent. The golden metals from the age groups far above your actual age should've been a clue. You take a moment to catch your breath before speaking.

“So, what do you want to do while we wait for the police?” You smile nonchalantly, ah yes avoiding the mental pain. You notice the drone is still there. You look into the camera and give it a thumbs up before it flies off. You were going to have to find the clips on social media later.

“Are you okay?” Batman's voice is more stable now, he has his normal serious yet in some way caring tone.

“Yeah,” You reach your hand up to your neck and rub it nervously. You feel something on your hand, so you take your hand off your neck and look down. Batman sees you look at your hand, he grabs it and pulls it towards him. Then look up to your neck to see the smeared red and trickles of blood coming from the earlier cut “ Well, I mean mostly?” you raise your hand that is covered in blood. Batman is unamused, but Robin suppresses a laugh.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” Batman’s voice is completely normal, the intimidating version you are used to hearing is back.

“Yep, go into my bathroom and on the right side there should be a big first aid kit with gauze and all.” You nodded. Batman looks over to Robin who was looking at your pictures and posters, you feel slightly embarrassed. Batman clears his throat causing Robin to turn to him, batman gestures towards the bathroom and robin wordlessly goes.

“What you did wasn't safe.” He was still holding your hand, you felt like a kid who was being scolded by a parent. The man was still attempting to scream, you stick out your tongue out your tongue at the man.

“I know, but it’s what I felt like I had to do.” You look batman in the eyes, if it were any other time you probably wouldn’t have but adrenaline is a funny thing. You weren’t going to falter.

“I was going to get you,” he pauses. “I just needed time.”

“And I am sure you would’ve, but I think the damages would have been much greater than this.” You could see the guilt gnaw away at him. “I just did what I saw fit.” You shrug your shoulders trying to ease his guilt. You were the one who acted on impulse.

“You shouldn’t have too.” he tightened his grip on your hand, it wasn’t uncomfortable, it felt protective. You take your other hand and place it on his. Robin comes back in with a giant first aid kit that looks like it's owned by an ER nurse. Batman looks over to you.

“Can never be too prepared” You shrugged. You were always paranoid about having enough medical stuff. Batman lets go of your hand, unzips the bag and starts treating the wound, it wasn’t deep so no need for a trip to hospital. Robin goes back to the posters and starts looking at them again.

“So are you a fan of us?” He smirks slyly at you as Batman cleans up your wound wide as you look through the kit for gauze. You look up and over at him and the poster he was looking at. ‘What do you think?’

“Yes I am, is that a bad thing?” You questioned slightly annoyed him. You look back to the kit and find both the bandages and gauze. You place it besides Batman who was still cleaning up the blood off your neck.

“No,” Robin moves on from the poster to the photos on the wall, he glances over the picture with your friends, stopping at one of You Val and Percy. Robin grins devilishly to himself, you weren’t sure why. “Who are they? Are they your parents?” Batman stops for a moment and looks at the photos.

You smiled, you liked that photo. It was from your 18th birthday, you thought it was going to be just another photo like the ones before it but Val and Percy had other plans. They took out nerf guns and started shooting you right as the photo was taken, they chased you around the apartment and even outside. You loved the way they smiled in the photos, the way you smiled. You had never had such a smile, you weren't sure if you ever would again. Youall looked so carefree.

“No” you shook your head with a smile resting on your lips,” They technically work for me. They are Val and Percy” Batman eases up a bit and continues to dress your wounds while still listening to your conversation with Robin.

“Hm interesting” Robin turns back toward the wall. He reaches for a gold melt hanging on your wall. His cape moves, exposing his sword in its sheath.

“How long have you had the sword?” You thought the sword looked cool. You don’t know much about swords, but you are sure it's a katana. He pauses and looks down to his sword, he pulls it out and swings it a bit like he is showing it off to you. You give him a small applaud as he brings it closer for you to look at.

“Since I first became robin.” he states proudly, he watches as you look it over. He visibly gets an idea. “Do you want to hold it?” He grins and offers it to you to hold. You are about to grab it but…

“No” Batman interrupts before you even get a chance to vocally respond. He was done cleaning the wound and was just finishing applying the gauze.

“Tt” Robin slides the sword back into the sheathed. You chuckled, robin went back to looking over the walls in your room, and poking around your extra stuff too. Batman focuses on finishing addressing the wounds. You just enjoy the silence. Or well the muffled screaming of the man. You look over to your alarm clock, 1 am. Well Val was right about you going to bed at 10. The police come about 5 minutes later along with Val coming up from his apartment on the lower floors. Val runs over to you, placing his hands on your shoulders. He does a quick once over on you, looking specifically at your neck. The police quickly take Batman and Robin to the side to speak to him first. Batman and Robin both watch the interaction between you and Val from the corner of his eyes.

“You need to be more careful.” Val uses his hand to move your head from one side to another so that he can get a better look at your neck bandage. You swat his hand away, but he grabs that hand, starts turning it over and pressing down on it.

“I know.” You feel safer now that Val is here. The adrenalin leaves your body as quickly as it came. You walk over to a chair near the fireplace, sitting down right as your knees give out. “I know Val.” your head falls into your hands. It has already been a long day before this, and now it is even longer. The police officer that was talking to Batman approaches.

“My name is Jim Gordon. I am the police commissioner of the GCPD. I want to ask you a few questions.” You lift up your head from your hand for a moment to get a better look at him. He seemed worried about You letting your head fall back into your hands, as you gestured for him to sit down in the seat across from him. “So can you walk me through what exactly happened in your point of view?” there is a comforting quality to his voice, he probably sees some kid who just fought for their life.

You aren’t legally a kid but that doesn’t matter to him, in his eyes everyone your age is a kid. “Well-” You walk through the entire encounter, with a little too much detail. “And the man is still screaming about the fucking birds.” you say with a deadpan face, you are too tired, at this point. They were just taking away the man right now after some questioning done by Robin, they didn’t get much from him, he was too far gone.

“Well.” Gordon clears his throat “that must’ve been very hard to deal with.” He writes down everything you said. Batman and Robin standing over Gordon as Val stands behind you. You stare at the floor just fighting to stay awake to see them out. “ Where did you learn to fight?”

“Uh- I did some material arts when I was younger, not sure for how long though.” You rub your eyes and lift your head from your hands. You see the way both of the men were confused by your answer. ‘Shit right, switching worlds.’ “Oh uh right. I have a hard time recalling details at times.” This was a horrible lie. ” memory issues. But I am pretty sure I did it for 4-5 years, I assume it’s just kinda committed to muscle memory.” you tried explaining. “They did it for 5 years, between the ages of 5 and 10..” Val interjects “They are really good at it, winning several medals as you can see.” he gestured towards the walls. He saw how you need some help in keeping your stories straight. You are really grateful for him, even if he does nag you far too much. Gordon eyes Vals and writes something, Batman Glares at Val, he didn’t seem to like him for some reason.

“So what is your relation with the man behind you?” Gordon asks, he looks over his glasses and studies val.”Is he your legal guardian?” Val looks away from them and out the window.

“No, I have no legal guardian” Batman goes to speech but you put a hand up telling him to let you finish. “I have no need for one seeing as I am a legal adult. So I have no need for one, any more.” Gordon writes this down and looks back to Val who was still looking away.

“Okay well that’s all my question,” he puts the notebook away and gets up from the chair, Batman silently watches Val still, while robin chuckles to himself. “The window will be replaced by tomorrow, but for now I recommend you stay elsewhere for the night.”

“Thank you for your concern,” You got up from your chair. “But I am going to stay here tonight, because apparently, My presences is expected somewhere tomorrow.” you say in a mockingly formal voice. Robin and Batman stares get more intense. “Or well that’s what it said in the vaguely threatening letter.”

“I don’t think you should go,” Val sighs. “But there is no stopping you once you have made up your mind”, you make eye contact with him, he is concerned. You think he worries too much.

“You know me so well.” You smile weakly. Robin and Batman seem to have many questions, well based on robin's opened mouth, but you were tired “if you are done here i would like to rest now.”

“Well of course, we should all get going now,” Gordon signals for his team to wrap up their stuff. They clean up the glass from the window and pack up their things and leave quietly. Batman and Robin stick around, they seem to have something to say.

“Are you sure you're alright staying here?” Batman sternly askes, you internally roll your eyes. “It's very dangerous staying in an open window.”

“I know, and that's why I am going to sleep on the couch.” You are just trying to get them to leave as fast as possible, you have every intention of sleeping in this room. “It's pretty comfortable.”

“Where do you have to be tomorrow?” Robin's question was out of the blue, you were really sure why he felt the need to know. This kinda reminded you of Damian’s interrogation, you didn’t really feel the need to answer robin like you did damian.

“You will see.” Your answer was vague but truthful, that must be a talent of yours. Being vaguely truthful. “I am sure of it” You can already see the clip from the live stream going viral overnight. You can’t wait to see how they react when they see the same person in media photos of Wayne ball.

“But-”

“Robin, that's enough.” Batman cutoff robin. Finally he understood that you are tired, and are trying to get them to leave in the nicest way possible.. “We have to go make sure the kid returned home safely.” Robin mutters as he shoots his grappling hook out the broken window. Batman stared at you and Val for a moment longer. “Enjoy whatever you are doing tomorrow.” You wave goodbye as Batman follows robin out the window.

Val comes up behind you and turns you around to face him. “They are gone, you can let go.” You clench your fists tightly, your breath grows more inconsistent. You look down when you feel a tear fall down your cheek. Val puts his hand on your shoulder, he doesn’t know what else to do. You didn't make a sound, you were never a loud crier as a kid, you never felt like you had the right to be. You look up, your face holds no frown or smile, it barely even holds a readable expression. You and Val stand there as your tears fall, you make no attempt to stop them. no loud sobs, nor words of panic, just a silent exchange of understanding between you and him.

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