#and i had the same feeling of ah THAT'S it

[theminecraftbee]

The moon has fully set over the horizon. The howling over the server has stopped. Four Hermits sit in a circle, staring just slightly away from each other, as to not be caught staring. Joe is miserably trying to wring mud out of his puppet. Stress isn't bothering about the mud at all but is despairing at how shredded her jumper is. Somehow, Zedaph has only lost a shoe, which is more concerning than any of the prior people. Xisuma is deliberately not checking himself. The damning lack of helmet on his head, though, means he can't avoid feeling how he underwent the same terrible transformation as everyone else.

"So," he says, finally.

"I could use pants," Joe says, finally giving up on washing out his puppet, and, ah. Yes. Those are pretty well destroyed, aren't they? Xisuma looks away politely, feeling his face heat up. It heats up more when he realizes everyone can see it, gosh, he's–he's not so sure how he feels about that–

"I think we all need pants. Look at us," Stress says, and if Xisuma can be looking away any harder, he sure is now. Wait, she said 'all', does that include... Oh, oh dear.

"Well I don't know about you, but I still have perfectly serviceable pants," Zedaph says imperiously.

"You know, if anything, that's weirder, given the way we were all giant wolves traipsing around in the night just now. Which is strange itself! However, wolves don't normally wear pants, so really, the fact the only article of clothing you've lost is your shoes is less miraculous and more actively impossible!" Joe responds.

"Well you're actively impossible," mutters Zedaph.

"My god, it was real," Xisuma says.

"Well, I mean, I sort of figured it had to be, what with the four of us being all covered in mud and tired and your helmet being gone and all that," Stress says.

"It was real," Xisuma says.

The four of them sit in silence a little longer. The sun continues its steady march upwards into the sky. It's April; the day is longer than the night, by now, so they aren't wasting but so much time compared to the time the moon was up. The time the moon was up feels a bit more like a dream than anything else, too; distantly, Xisuma wonders if this is what spiders feel like when they become angry during the night, or what drives the undead from the ground. It's a disquieting thought, and he'd literally lived in a skeleton!

"So," Joe says. "So. Which one of us is going to yell at Zedaph for biting us?"

"Rude!" Zedaph says. "Very rude, I'm not the one that bit you! You bit me! Xisuma bit me, actually, you all saw him!"

"What? No, I didn't!" Xisuma says. "Gosh, if I were a werewolf, don't you think you'd know by now?"

"Hm. Suspicious," Zedaph says.

"No?" Xisuma says.

"I mean, I'd try to claim it was my fault, what with being a monster and all, but I'm actually a different sort of beastie normally," Stress says. "Being all doggy is new for me. I should show Iskall. Hey, do you think I should bite Iskall?"

"Yes," Zedaph says.

"No," Xisuma says.

"I'll split the difference and say maybe," Joe says. "Also, since we're arguing about it anyway, I'll say that I think I'd remember if I bit someone, although maybe I wouldn't. It's been a weird night. Maybe I should just go ahead and get everyone apology gifts instead?"

"Please don't," Zedaph says.

"Aww, but I like his gifts," Stress says.

"Honestly, yeah, I was–no, Zedaph is right, it'd be too distracting," Xisuma says, thinking of many of the, er, gifts he's gotten from Joe in the past. "Besides, it's not your fault. But if none of us bit anyone, then why on earth are we all werewolves no–oh no."

"That was ominous?" Joe says.

"Oh. Ohhhhhh," Zedaph says. "Whoops."

"It was supposed to be a joke about investment bankers," Xisuma says.

"Wait, what, do you really think the silly name turned us into werewolves?" Stress says.

"I had other season plans, Xisuma!" Joe says.

"Hey, does that make me a sheep in wolf's clothing that's also a wolf that turns into a sheep that turns into a wolf? If so, neat," Zedaph says.

"Do you know how annoying it will be to get a werewolf puppet?" Joe says.

"Gosh, I absolutely have to bite Iskall now," Stress says.

Xisuma, for a moment, considers putting a stop to it. If it really is the silly name, the collective, the hats and the howls–if it really is the collective weight of story bearing down on all of them–then really, it's still so early that it would be very easy to stop.

Xisuma considers the competition the rest of the shopping district poses, and how easy it will be to move as a collective when they're also a pack.

Also, he hasn't actually been a wolf before. That's one mob he hasn't done!

"You should bite Iskall. I want to know what it does," Xisuma says, deciding that he's quite bored with being responsible and that if someone wants to stop it, it will have to be not him. "But, er, first, in the meantime, do you think he or Doc is better to ask for a helmet that'll grow to fit my muzzle instead of nearly trapping my skull?"

"Hm," Stress says. "Well, Iskall is pretty good at head electronics."

"Yeah, but Doc is a better choice for abominations against nature!" Joe says.

"What about me? I like abominations," Zedaph says.

"It's okay, Zedaph, it's just you don't make many helmets, is all," Xisuma says. "We'll run around being abominations of nature, gosh, most full moons together. Is that good enough?"

"Fine," Zedaph says. "I'm bringing the snacks. I have sheep, and I've always wanted to try cannibalism."

"I guess werewolves wouldn't have to worry about prions," Joe says, nodding.

"Well, if you're going to get Doc, I'm going to go bite Iskall. I know I don't got fangs right now but it'll be very funny either way," Stress says.

"Have fun!" Xisuma says, and even though he's still red, and no one has pants but Zedaph, and he feels vaguely sick without his helmet, he also feels something close to pure delight. Gosh. Werewolves, huh? What a concept, having a little pack. He'll have to make the most of it; they've already seen his face anyway, and not one of them have commented or looked him in the eyes. Clearly, it won't matter so much if Doc takes a while with the helmet.

#hermitcraft #hermitfic #xisuma #joe hills #zedaph #stressmonster101 #a bee fic #me vibrating at high speeds: WOLVES WOLVES WOLVES WOLVES WOLVES #the fact today is hermit-a-day-may xisuma day is coincidence i'm not doing it (although everyone should!) #but i figure it decent timing anyway

[djarincore]

TAGS: incubus!ghost, smut, dubcon, somnophilia, fingering, PIV

A/N: i had a hard time falling asleep the other night and between that weird state of feeling awake but also asleep i felt this weird sensation of someone touching me sooo... INCUBUS!GHOST banner: @/cafekitsune

this version is definitely sexier than unsettling lol

Slipping between the realm of reality and dream, you lay on your stomach in a half-awake state of grogginess and confusion.

There's a hand on your leg—and, it's slipping further and further up your thigh.

It's heavy against your skin. You feel the individual fingers curve around the meat of your thigh. Then another trails your waist and down your hip.

For a moment you feel like there are hands all over you, touching you, caressing you. A light, unrestrained moan slips past your lips.

The part of your brain that typically jumps into action, demanding for you to kick or scream, remains dormant. You’re too tired to care enough to open your eyes and face what will ultimately be nothing.

In its exhaustion, your brain is conjuring up phantom touches. That's all this is. It will go away and you'll finally be able to slip back into unconsciousness. Or maybe you were already asleep and dreaming.

You bury your face into your pillow and ignore the tricks your brain is playing on you.

But the hands remain persistent, slipping between your thighs, cupping your cunt. You tense as the hand slides your panties to the side, a thick finger drags down the seam of your slit.

“You awake?”

A gruff voice jolts you out of your daze. You turn yourself onto your back and come face to face with a phantom.

A large figure looms over you. His body hides the sliver of moonlight shining through your window, shrouding you and him in darkness. Though his body is that of a man, he isn't entirely human. His face, if you can even call it that, resembles a skull, hollow eyes stare down at you.

Your lips part, only to realize your mouth is dry, a scream barely forms. You attempt to scramble away from his hands, pushing yourself against the headboard.

“Ah, not so fast,” he grunts, gripping your hands and pulling you back flat against the bed. He pins your hands against your chest, squeezing when you wiggle against his grip. “I’m not nearly finished with you.”

Your tongue darts out to swipe across your lower lip. “What do you want?”

The entity doesn't respond right away. He's distracted by the bobbing of your throat as you try to swallow your fear. A hand reaches out to skim the skin along your neck, tracing up the column of your throat with his knuckles.

You hate that his touch is so gentle—so gentle it makes your legs clench. Your brows furrow as you try to push away the desire pooling in your belly as he touches you.

“Same as you,” he says. His hand moves to cradle your cheek, but you turn your head, making him grab your jaw and face him once more.

He leans in close. You see nothing but darkness beyond the holes in his skull mask; the lower half of his face is simply shadow. “Need a good fuckin’. So, lay still and let me work.”

As you breathe him in, smoke and musk, your eyes feel heavy. It's almost pleasant to be stuck in this state, just on the edge of unconsciousness. Your thoughts are a haze, limbs relaxed and limp, pliant beneath him.

“That's right, just give in to it,” he coos, releasing your jaw and wrists. He slides your T-shirt up to reveal your breasts, running his thumb over your pert nipples. “I’ll make you feel good.”

Your mouth falls open when he grinds his hard cock against you. Your chest heaves, but you can't do much against him besides lay vulnerable as he touches you.

He slips a hand back into your underwear, rubbing slow circles against your clit, chuckling when your hips twitch. A finger pets your slit, gathering your wetness along the tip and guiding it back to your clit. He works you up until your legs tremble around him and then pushes two thick fingers into your tight hole. He moves slowly, fingers working inside of you like a caress.

You're a whimpering mess and awfully tired. The more he builds your climax the heavier your eyes get. “I- ‘m gonna-” you muster, weakly clawing at your sheets.

He lowers himself to your cunt, letting his tongue join his fingers, lapping at your juices and moaning. He hums, something low and lulling, “Good girl, let go for me.”

You do as he commands, tightening around his fingers and coming on his hand. The rest of the world begins to fall away as you come down from your orgasm.

You wake to the wet sounds of him fucking you. His cock slides out of your dripping, sore cunt only to thrust back in, fitting snug in your tight walls. Your legs are pushed up, spread and open for him to fit between.

You don't know how long he's been in you or how long you’ve been passed out. “S-Stop,” you whine, hoping to get a break. Even though you assume you slept, you're still exhausted. You fear whatever this entity wants from you, once he has it, you'll never wake up again.

“No,” he grunts. His voice now takes on a heavy rasp, grating and no longer soothing. “Fuckin’ take it.”

“Please,” you whimper. It's pathetic, breathless but all you can seem to muster. “Don't kill me.”

He laughs and the sound echoes through you. He rubs your puffy clit, making you flinch from the sensitivity and clench around him.

“Oh, ‘m not killin’ you; I'm keepin’ you.”

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #cod smut #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley smut #ghost smut #mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost fanfiction #simon riley x you #my works

[slushycoookie]

Spa Day ~ Miguel O'Hara x AFAB! Reader

Content: You and Miguel go to the spa, mainly fluff, gets smutty towards the end, "wife" and "girl" are used, thigh grinding, masturbation, perhaps a hint of a praise kink, MINORS DNI!!

A/N: Had an idea to do a cute spa day with Mig. Enjoy!

“Welcome to the Sunny Side Spa! Are you checking in?”

The receptionist asked, smiling wide as you and Miguel walked inside. You were too busy taking in the peaceful atmosphere to respond. Admiring the soft bright lighting, harpsichord music, and divulging in the lavender aroma.

Miguel stepped in, “Yes. For the deluxe package?”

“Wonderful! Right this way!” You took your husband's hand, following the cheery woman down a hall and to the right, where the showers and locker rooms were. “Please wash up and put on our robes so we can start your ultimate spa experience!”

Your heart sped up in excitement, trying to contain it as you and Miguel went your separate ways in the locker rooms. Sunny Side Spa was a new spa that opened up on Earth-438, being highly recommended by some of the spiders in Spider Society. Ben mainly as he raved about his experience. Saying he suggested it to a few others too because it was that good. Jess came to you a few days later about the same spa and then so did Peter the day after. All boasting about their experiences, wanting you and Miguel to go too.

They mentioned how difficult it was pushing Miguel to go out and try new experiences. Especially after his major role in forming the elite spidey team. But once he started dating you, he was open to branching himself out. Even more so after marriage.

So when you brought up the spa trip with him, he was interested. He didn’t think he'd even been to the spa before when he couldn’t remember the last time he's had a massage or a facial. You weren't sure yourself. Hence why it was clear you two had to get in some relaxation time.

The cream-colored robe you put on felt like cotton. It was warm and soft to the touch with notes of eucalyptus hitting your nostrils.

Miguel was waiting for you, leaning against the wall while listening to the receptionist rave about the deluxe package. You didn't catch much of it, only hearing a little bit about a deep tissue massage.

“Ah you too look adorable!” She complimented before motioning you all to the massage room. The lady repeated what she told Miguel about everything that's in the deluxe package. A deep tissue massage, followed by a manicure, pedicure and a facial. While you all were fed complementary food and drinks. And as an added bonus, a private sauna room you can go to at the end of the wellness visit.

The lady handed you a pamphlet of the details in case you forget as she left you two in the room to wait for your masseuse. Your eyes caught the option to do hot stones in the massage to maximize muscle relaxation.

“Maybe you should pick this one.” You pointed out.

Miguel glanced over your shoulder, letting out a playful huff. “What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing…” You teased, “My man works hard. Just want to make sure we're making the most out of our stay.”

He hummed, kissing the side of your head. “I appreciate the thought, baby.”

The massages you received were out of this world.

Once meeting with your personal masseuse, you lied face down, uncovering your robe for easy access. The masseuses' hands roaming every inch of your bare back. Rubbing spots along your muscles that you didn’t even know were tense. All of the tension built up inside faded away once the soft fingers of your personal masseuse melted it away.

You couldn’t help but groan loudly at the feeling, hearing your masseuse laugh. “Feel good, yeah?”

“Oh yeah.”

Miguel was enjoying his massage as his groans resonated in the room. While he occasionally instructed his own masseuse where they should rub the most. Any semblance of worry that your husband wasn’t going to enjoy the experience were gone.

Hints of jasmine from the essential oils lingered as hot stones pressed along your back. Not hot enough to burn your skin but to soothe your body. The personal masseuses left the room, wanting you two to lie on the cot for a little to fully relax.

“Cariño?” You hummed in response, “I might fall asleep.”

You giggled as you could tell by his low tone. “Fall asleep, baby.” You weren't too far yourself, body desperate to doze off in pure bliss. Miguel’s soft snores weren’t helping either as it blended well with the gentle music that was playing.

After you and Miguel got some shut eye for a few minutes, your masseuse woke you up for the mani/pedi. You took the lead as Miguel trailed behind, walking a tad slower to get adjusted from his nap. The section of getting the hand and foot massages was in a large area outside. A closed off section that was decorated with tons of food at your disposal. Fruit, veggies and mini sandwiches with a variety of alcoholic and non alcoholic drinks.

You quickly snatched up a grape as you sat back in your reclining chair, grabbing a drink of water while waiting on the nail artists to arrive. There was an option of getting your nails painted too, which Miguel willingly said yes to your surprise.

“Ooh can I pick your color?” You asked as they handed you a palette of nail colors to choose from.

“Go crazy.” Miguel said, not paying you any mind as he messed with his chair that had a massage function built in.

You decided to pick black for him, the glittery kind that shined in the light. You opted for a dark blue, like his suit, also sporting a shimmery shine.

The techs were really thorough while doing your hands and feet. Placing them in a tub of warm water, scrubbing away the excess skin. Trimming your nails and toes to a decent length. You watched them rub oil across your arms and legs too before they effortlessly painted your nails and toes. You glanced over to see how Miguel’s looked. He wiggled one of his hands to show it off. Black fit well on him.

Your face was soon covered with a mixture of ingredients you couldn't recognize. The green concoction had a clay-like texture, but it was cool against your skin. You watched the spa workers carry a bowl of cucumbers to finish off the facial. And you couldn't help but get excited when they said you could eat the veggies once the facial was finished, earning a laugh from your husband.

“Can I eat yours too?”

“Sure, mi amor.”

They allowed you two to relax in your chairs for a bit. The soothing sensation of the mask really helping. Your nail techs also recommend waiting to touch anything for a bit while your nails dried, making sure their hard work didn't go to waste. That didn't stop Miguel from inching over to nudge your hand with his pinkie.

“Hm?” You said, completely in the zone of your relaxation.

“You look adorable right now.” Miguel chuckled.

You held back in removing a cucumber from your eye, “Put your cucumbers back on.”

“I will. Just let me look at you.”

“You've seen me before.”

“Not with green stuff all over your face.”

You removed one of your cucumbers, opening your eye and immediately snorting at Miguel’s green covered face. “You look adorable too.”

He gave another affectionate nudge before following your command by putting on his cucumbers.

After the delightful facials, you two made your way down to the saunas. You could feel your face glowing from the extra care. Both of you had to change again into some towels, having a similar texture and color to the robes you wore.

You and Miguel had 30 minutes inside before the staff checked on you. And you felt like you were in heaven as you leaned against Miguel. A warmth radiating throughout the room that relaxed your muscles and your mind. His arm draped behind you, leaning back against the bench, legs spread a little wide. You could tell he was enjoying it as he leaned his head back, taking it in.

Something in you honed on his neck, a slight sheen coating his brown skin. His adam's apple bobbing slowly. You swallowed hard at the hair on his chest, following it down to his happy trail and unable to see the prize under his towel.

“We should come here more often.” His voice caused you to jump, not expecting him to say anything.

“Oh yeah, we should.”

Miguel sat up, red eyes landing on you with a grin, “I know you liked the massages.”

“Of course I did.” You shrugged, “So did you, right?”

He nodded, “I did. But I know you really enjoyed them.” Miguel sat up a little and inadvertently spread his legs wider, “I heard your cute little noises.”

You huffed, trying not to get affected by what he was saying. “It wasn't intentional, it just felt good.”

“I know, nena. I'm teasing.” His hand rested on your side. It felt extra hot for some reason. “Sit on my lap.”

You eyed him suspiciously, “Why?”

“Because I want you to.” He said, sounding innocent.

“We can’t have sex in here, Miguel.”

Your husband bit his lip to hide his amusement, “Who said we were having sex? Your mind is awfully dirty.” You shot a glare towards him. He completely ignored it before patting his thigh for you. Somehow you found yourself on it, hands on his chest for support.

“I'm serious.” You warned before he captured your lips. It was gentle yet passionate. His hand placed on your back to keep you there while your tongues danced with each other. You wanted more when you parted, wanting to lean back in but you stopped yourself.

“We can’t…”

“We're not having sex.” Miguel reiterated as his hand moved to slowly unravel your towel. You didn’t protest, as a glimpse of your breast poked through, your towel loose enough to ride up to your hips. “Grind on my thigh.”

Your hips moved on command, your cunt rubbing against his covered thigh. The plush towel not irritating you at all but the complete opposite as you lowly gasped. Miguel’s hand took its rightful place on your back for stability. His eyes honed on how you were grinding against him.

“Good girl.”

Your eyes flickered to his hard cock coming out from his towel. Standing tall and proud due to your actions. You wanted to touch it, but he beat you to it as he lifted you up gently, plunging two fingers inside you. You whimpered at how embarrassingly wet you were before watching him use your arousal on his cock.

His eyes never left your body as yours watched him stroke his cock. His thumb running along the tip to collect pre cum before using it for additional lubrication. A quiet squishy sound was heard through the hum from the sauna. But you kept going, eyes fluttering shut to focus on what you were doing.

“Eyes on me.” He commanded.

You gazed at him, your stomach twisting as he was still watching you. Intense eyes filled with pleasure. Your hips faltered when he unraveled more of your towel from your body. It was dangling from your form, barely hanging on. But this way he was able to see your breasts move from the hip movement. And your covered sex rub along the fabric.

“Fuck…” He swore, picking up the pace of his strokes. “How did I get so lucky?”

“Miguel…” You moaned, your clit hitting a perfect spot amidst your lazy grinding. That caused you to arch your back and pick up the pace. Miguel’s other hand is still on you, gripping a bit tighter.

“I should fuck you right here.” He grunted, spreading his legs even wider to get a good angle. “But I listen to my wife.”

“Sometimes.” You muttered, enough for him to let out a breathy chuckle. Your thighs started to ache as your cunt pulsed while you felt yourself getting closer. You wanted to shut your eyes and chase it but it was more addicting to look at Miguel’s steely focus on you.

“Wait for me.” He sighed, voice starting to get hoarse. You slowed down for him to catch up. Which didn’t take too long as his rough hand gripped your ass, the cue for you to go. So you kept grinding. Your back arching more and allowing the towel to slip completely off. That earned a groan of approval from your husband, his face turned from the undeniable pleasure.

“Baby I need you to come. We don't have much time.”

“I-I know.” You struggled, whining as you were nearing your peak. You had to ignore Miguel’s demand this time by shutting your eyes to focus on that feeling. Your body exploded, pleasure shooting all over you. Thighs squeezing against his while you quietly cried for him. Any other time he wouldn't like how quiet you were but he didn’t complain.

Miguel wasn’t far behind as cum shot out, staining his abdomen. His death grip from your ass gently released as he heaved. You rested against his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow back down to his original pace.

You and your husband were practically glowing after getting out of the sauna. The two of you changed back into your clothes before making your way to the front of the establishment.

The receptionist waved to you and Miguel as he made the payment, “Did you two enjoy yourselves?”

“We definitely did.” He glanced at you with satisfaction while you held in a grin.

“Awesome!” She handed him the receipt before waving you two goodbye. “Thank you for coming to the Sunny Side Spa! Have a good day!”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o hara x reader #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #slushycoookie writes

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Hi..do you accept request?

If you do could you make Xiao is the father of creator child?

Thank you

The creator had a:

Birdly child

WC: ~700

I'm in love with how two asks came at the same time about Xiao, it's time to give the emo baby some love

I remember reading hatchlings often have rough feathers and aren't as photogenic as grown ups until the first feathers fall off.

“Bright yellow eyes aren't all that uncommon too” furina looks over your shoulder as you nurse your daughter, she would say she looks surprisingly unremarkable if that didn't sound like an insult of sorts even if it was true, dark blue hair and striking yellow eyes but nothing much. For one minute she hoped she would come out with long blue streaks and sharp angled ears, even if only so she could tease Neuvillette about his meeting with you.

“I’m happy enough that her face is similar to their grace” the tsaritsa sits beside you, a tea cup between her hands, as bitter as she seemed to whoever she expected was your lover her confirmation to the baby shower was the first to arrive, a few plushies and older baby clothes.

Zhongli stands just behind furina, watching her face as you burp Xuezhui, the little lift at the end of her eyes making them slightly sharper than they are, reminding him of a certain someone. Snow and bird, Aren't you a bit too on the nose? Oh, well, at least his dear apprentice and friend found some happiness. 

His gold eyes look at furina, a soft smile forming “I think she looks so cute, like a finch hatchling” his hand getting close to her and lightly brushing her rough hair with one finger, such a tiny baby.

“I never said she isn't!”

“Did you want to see me, Morax?” Xiao appears beside zhongli, Xuezhui was getting fuzzy and you decided to put the baby to sleep before returning to the archons, during that time they divided to do as they pleased, and by the steaming teapot Xiao could guess he decided to enjoy some tea 

“Take a seat”

“Is anything wrong?”

“I see you truly took it to heart to protect their grace, even spent the night in their room to be sure” zhongli swirls the golden tea inside the cup. The noise of the slight splashing drowned by the noise of him choking on his spit.

“My apologies, Rex Lapis, it wasn't meant to-” quickly he bows, his forehead touching the table but zhongli cuts him with a small smirk.

“when two finches love each other very much they spend the night together and-” 

“I'm already repenting, please…”

The night is warm and clear, the crescent moon on full display and your baby isn't in her crib yet you aren't truly worried after walking to the balcony and seeing a figure seated on the edge of the nursery's roof.

Xiao holds his daughter to his chest while trying to manage the wild mane of blueish hair she has, the exact same he had as a kid but chose to cut. Now, to some extent he wishes he listened to guizhong when she spoke of hairstyling. 

For now he settles with two pigtails on either side of her head, one lower than the other but his daughter was starting to wriggle around and start pushing her head against his neck, wanting to return to her crib and sleep. 

“Is she looking at me?” Arlecchino asks as she feels a gaze burning on her neck, usually if it was one of her children she would tell them off for being so obvious but for it to be a rather spoilt toddler who isn't training to be a spy she couldn't say much.

“Ah, apologies about it, she is going through a phase of watching everyone” there is your kid, her hair on two braids and her yellow eyes watching owlishly.

“You know, if you lent her to me I could train her, she seems to be a natural” she teases you.

“Oh, don't even worry” as you return to the conversation without paying her too much mind you can still see her unblinking amber eyes from the door.

“Stop crawling over your crib’s railing, you are going to hurt yourself!” You scold your toddler, one leg and an arm over the railing attempting to escape nap time “go to sleep, you are in a bad mood if you don't nap”

she mumbles something you guess was her saying she wanted to play or crawl around but you don't follow her game.

“I don't care! To bed, young missy or your little night scrolls with your dad are done!” she huffs and sits down her back facing you.

#genshin impact #gi #sagau #self aware genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact xiao #xiao x reader #genshin xiao #self aware genshin

[saintescuderia]

pancakes (pt. 6)

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :) / antinal reference ;)

A/N: to make up for being MIA (and that this sunday might be another miss) here's a double update. enjoy.

P6 - pre-workout for jet-lag

You still found it odd to call Australia home.

You had mixed feelings about the country stamped across the front page of your passport. Your auntie had been the one to organise the papers so that Australian would be your identification. Never mind the hospital bed in Monaco that you were birthed. Or that you were first words were in Arabic. 

Still, your travelling auntie’s own experiences meant that when you came into her care, she would raise you Australian. Never mind any of the other stuff. 

So, when you walked into the house in Melbourne, you were met with an Egyptian lady playing French music, dressed in a Korean football jersey, cooking Greek food. Such was the life of a nomadic English teacher that was your aunt Nadia. Dia for short.

“Ah, it's you." She sat, spying you hauling the suitcase through the door. She looked at the clock by the fridge and then frowned. "You weren't supposed to land yet."

"I landed an hour ago." You said. She looked at the clock again and took it off the fridge. She banged it with one hand and then shook her head, muttering under breath.

"I'm sorry. Did you take an Uber?"

"No. Oscar gave me a lift." Well, technically his father had driven the car.

Oscar’s parents were apparently super excited to meet you and gushed all through the way about how glad they were that their son had you to help him through F1. They had even insisted on dinner but Oscar knew you had stayed up - you had made him do the same thing as you - and thankfully postponed it for a breakfast tomorrow after you both got to finally got to sleep. 

Upon leaving Jeddah, you had looked at the flight times and decided to overdose the 400mg of pre-workout and strategically placeyour workout just before leaving the hotel so that you and Oscar could both avoid the jet-lag many other F1 personnel were struggling with.

So far, it was on track to working. You just needed to push through a few more hours. To do so, Oscar was going to watch the footy. You were going to watch football.

“Ah, this young Oscar." Your aunt was nodding. "I like him. He has a trusting face.” She laughed at you, doing nothing to help but continue to watch you clamber into the well-loved and mis-matched dining furniture in her kitchen. “You hungry?”

“Tired.” You said, checking the time. It was 5pm but you were ready to knock out. Just a few more hours. You willed yourself to push through and avoid the jet-lag.

“Did you eat?”

You hadn’t. You never ate airplane food. 

The silence was answer enough as your auntie plated up some gyros for you. The smells of the seasoned meat filled your nose and your stomach rumbled at the site of it. You picked up your fork, ignoring the bread for the sake of your cut but helping yourself to tzatziki. 

"What's with the Korean jersey." You couldn't help but ask. You watched your auntie's back with CHO GUE-SUNG.

"Oh, he's such a handsome man. So polite too. I met him when I was teaching abroad in Seoul."

You opened your mouth but closed it. Your auntie lived a very unbelievable life at the best of times.

"He was nice. Nice face. Good hair. You should date him." Dia said as if she was commenting about the weather and you rolled your eyes, chewing through the food. She gave you a look. "Better a footballer than a driver."

You gave her a look. She never did like Danny. Much less you two together.

"Speaking of footballers, your uncle called. Went on and on in Italian about how your talents are wasted with cars and you should come to a real sport."

You snorted hearing this. Your uncle's work in football (not soccer, football) and your line of expertise had some people baffled that you hadn't joined him. Only the select few who knew your mother understood just why that was.

Still, every month your uncle sighed at the wasted talent! that you, a world class performance trainer! was stuck making coffee! for some fancy drivers!

Save that your uncle would add in a few choice Italian expletives in the mix.

"So, the usual?" You concluded.

"The usual." Dia nodded. She came to sit down in front of you. Pulling out her phone, she began showing you pictures of her recent teaching stint in South Korea. Your aunt had been there for about six months, working at an international school. And befriending Korean football players apparently.

“I thought you were teaching in Paris.” You said between mouthfuls of seasoned meat. 

“That was before.” Dia waved a dismissive hand. She dropped her phone and then stood up to pull out two wine glasses. Your aunt gave you a look and you shook your head. She put one back with a roll of her eye. “Wine is good for you.”

“I’m already taking resveratrol.” You said. “And I’m on a cut.”

“That’s why no bread.” Dialooked down at the plate full of untouched pita bread. She was well aware of your health habits. “Actually, I went to Egypt recently! Ah!” She went to the cupboard above the microwave and pulled out a shoebox full of small boxes. You knew immediately what it was. Bringing the shoebox to the table, Dia began pulling out various medicines she had brought from Egypt. 

“You will need this for your travels.”

“I have all of this.”

“Do you have Antinal?”

“Yes.”

“Take some extra." Dia still pushed it to you. "Give it to Charles.”

“I don’t speak to Charles.” You said.

Your aunt huffed and looked up at the ceiling, calling to God. “Ya rab. This fight with Charles needs to stop. Pascale and I are sick of it.” You didn’t comment any further on it. It was, admittedly, quite hard when there were so many other people involved. Pascale and Nadia were best friends. It was how you and Charles had grown up so close. The fact that you were family friends made it hard since Charles had pretty much cut you off. Granted, he was polite and you knew he still greeted your aunt Dia with a kiss on each cheek every time she’d visited Monaco. But still. 

“I will give them to Charles.” She said, taking a box back.

“You do that.” You said as she still pushed one boxes of the yellow medicine in front of you. “Dia, I already have this.”

“For Oscar. Yallah.”

-

“Anti-diarrhoea pills?"

"Oi, mate. You better be grateful. That shit's a miracle." You said, dropping the yellow box in Oscar's hands as you both walked down the Paddock. You had checked your phone this morning to the beautiful news that you would be working for McLaren today. You texted Oscar the news and the next day he had your coffee order ready in the cupholder of the car he picked up you up in. 

It didn't feel odd. It should've, but it didn't. Maybe it was because you and Oscar had already spent the most of the morning together. You had breakfast with his parents - his dad taking a moment to quietly pull you aside to say thank you for supporting Oscar - and then hit a gym sesh.

In fact, you almost forgot that you and Oscar was supposed to be working in different domains until you both had to get dressed and found him waiting for you outside the Paddock dressed in shorts, a McLaren t-shirt and accompanying brand cap.

It made you look down at your black Hospitality wear and wonder just how things would go if you were wearing the same clothes as him.

Well, for one thing, you would have to wear those ugly ass shoes. You looked down at your feet clad in some Nike Cortez and tried to take that as consolation. You weren't dressed in team uniform but at least that meant you had your shoes.

Still, the oddity of seeing a driver openly interact with the Hospitality staff turned some head as you walked down the Paddock together. You were half tempted to tell Oscar to go ahead but it didn't make sense. You were both going to the same place - the McLaren motorhome.

Oscar, however, was barely paying attention to any of this. No, his attention was still stuck on the medicine you had given him.

"Why do I need," He paused and flipped the box over to read the label that was in English, "Antinal?"

"Because you're travelling around the world more now that you're in F1 and have an additional ten or so race weekends added to your calendar." You explained as Oscar read what minimal English was on the medicine box "And so you're gonna be trying a lot more foreign food. Gotta be prepared, man." You patted him on the shoulders as a form of consolation. Oscar just laughed. 

"I must say, when you texted me that you had got me something, I didn't think it would be this."

"Technically my auntie did." You said before explaining how you would probably needed to purchase another 23kg suitcase from all the things your aunty was adamant you have with you for the rest of the season. Oscar was laughing at the five packets of sunflower seeds your aunt thought was an essential when you clocked it. 

Or, better yet, them. Charles and Carlos.

Both staring at you. And Oscar. 

You felt a jolt rush through you realised. Oscar's latest girlfriend update went to background noise as you took in the two Ferrari drivers stood there.

Carlos was appraising, his head slightly tilted as he clearly was observing the two of you. You could only imagine what he noted.

You. Oscar. Laughter. Gift exchanged. Mention of relatives and close family.

Still, the kind Spaniard's eyes were a lot easy to take in than Charles. 

Charles who was clearly fuming. 

Or, clearly to you. You knew his angry tells. Right fist clenches then unfurls. Left hand runs through hair. Lips are pursed. And then he walks off. 

You watched as Charles said something to Carlos and then turned around to stalk off. You watched his retreating form with forlorn eyes and before you caught Carlos looking at you. The furrow between your brows where you had probably stared longingly after the best friend who left you in the dust immediately fell when you looked at Carlos. 

That was the first time that Charles was actually acknowledging your existence in how long.

You drew your eyes back to Carlos who was still looking at you. You smiled you found yourself even lifting up a hand to wave. You saw his eyebrows raise slightly and his lips lift into a smile. He waved back. Then someone called his name and you saw his cousin and manager appear from the Ferrari motorhome. You turned back to look at Oscar who was still talking, unaware of anything that happened in the past minute.

"... anyway Lily wants to meet you and - "

"Have you copped any shit?" You interrupted Oscar and turned to him. You had both neared the McLaren Motorhome and knew this would be where you both parted ways. 

"Copped shit from who?"

"Other drivers." You specified.

"I mean I haven't really had a chance to speak with them." Oscar said, pursing his lips as if he thought about it. "The Williams guys are nice. Alex is funny."

"Alex is funny." You agreed. You did like Alex. He had a good heart. You would forever be salty at what Red Bull did to him. 

"Lewis said hello, which was nice. Fernando reminded me his career is older than me." You couldn't help but snort at that. Oh, Nando.

"And Lando is... well, Lando." You perfectly understood just what Oscar meant by that. His words, however, also confirmed what you had suspected. None of the 'core' drivers that surrounded Ferrari or Red Bull's circles had come near him. You knew that many of the guys had gone out a few times to celebrate the start of the season and the fact that Oscar had very clearly not been invited was, well, getting to you.

Especially since you were 99.9% sure you were the reason why. 

You stared at the young Australian boy in front of you and felt two things wash over you. 

The first was sadness.

A lame word but there was no other way to describe it. Infuriated, annoyed, hurt - sure. But you were also just sad. Sad that this was your life and that anyone close to you still managed to get tainted by the things you were forced to lug around yourself. 

The second was fondness.

The boy was young and innocent but carried himself with wisdom and dignity beyond his mere 20 years. And his dry ass sarcasm was a special type of humour you missed having around you. He was caring, loyal and an overall good sport. Having Oscar around made you realise how long it has been since you've laughed. He drove you the airport, bought you food and stayed up to watch old FRIENDS reruns after finding out Daniel Ricciardo had cornered you in the gym. 

"Your love language is quality time." Was his reasoning when he had arrived at your hotel room. And so he ordered some KFC and got comfortable in your hotel room to watch Chandler and Joey forget Ross' baby on a bus. You knew Oscar didn't like sit-coms -- it was a recurring argument -- but he watched five episodes that night after you had texted him feeling panicked and needing help when Daniel arrived drunk at the gym.

In short, in that moment, you were suddenly hyperaware of how much you really, really, really fucking loved Oscar Piastri. 

So maybe that's why you just came out with it. 

"Jos Verstappen has a restraining order against me." 

Oscar blinked. Once. Twice. Clearly he wasn't expecting you to say that. You weren't even expecting you to really say it. 

"Come again?"

"Well his wife does." You corrected. "Because the courts wouldn't accept a man of his size him to need protection from little old me." You rubbed your arm, feeling the full vulnerability of what you were doing. You thought of your next words carefully, making sure to not step over the NDA you had signed. "I used to train Max when he was at Torro Rosso and then at Red Bull. I always saw bruises on his arms. One day I..." you huffed, hating that you legally couldn't say what had actually happened. "Well, I ended up beating Jos Verstappen half to death."

Oscar was silent. His face was void of much reaction. He wasn't even looking you in the face but staring at the ground in his pensive state. You were aware that you both had stopped walking and were stood to the side. 

"Is that why you don't officially work as a trainer and had to be all pedantic with training me?" All you could do was nod to his question. Oscar shook his head. "I mean, I've heard the stories about Max and his dad but..." 

Now it was your turn to blink. Once. Twice. You frowned and Oscar finally met your eyes and you were stunned to see the easy going grin on his face once more. It hadn't disappeared. "I can only guess you had to sign an NDA and this isn't the full story. And even if it is, well, it's enough to know you were protecting someone from a -- well, an abuser." 

"I... Yeah. Thanks." You weren't sure what you were thanking him for. For believing you? For not treating you differently? For taking your side when everyone in Formula 1 had dropped you and treated you like a leper?

"Is that why you and Ricciardo fell through?" Oscar asked. It wasn't nosy. You had explained enough to him. It was enough he knew what happened. 

"No Danny, he, uh-." You hated how small your voice sounded. Or that you immediately fell back to his nickname. "He cheated."  

Oscar was silent, waiting for you to continue. And so you did so. You told him everything. From Daniel to Charles to the moment you punched Jos Verstappen in the face.

-

Carlos Sainz was ready to punch someone in the face.

He sat there at the table, fist curled tight as he tried to calm down from all that he was hearing. It seems like his name would only be an added tag to an otherwise Charles Leclerc fest of a season. Carlos knew, sure, that coming into a Ferrari where his teammate was known as Il Predestinato would mean that he needed to prove himself, put himself in the spotlight and make the Tifosi give him a name like that.

However, as the current race strategy meeting was showing, it seemed like no one in Ferrari was going to give Carlos the chance.

"Now, boys, I have something to discuss with you two." Fred said as people were starting to leave and the meeting seemingly coming to an end. Carlos wanted nothing more than to get up and storm off but he reigned it and listened to the change in Fred's tone.

"What's up?" Charles asked, sitting up.

"Quietly, there was a team principal meeting with Domenicali." Fred said, and this time Carlos sat up also. His anger was momentarily forgotten as his interest piqued. "McLaren have unofficially started working with a girl to train their rookie." Charles was playing with his APM Monaco bracelets, somewhat paying attention. Carlos watched him. There was one particular bracelet he always fiddled with, a small gold chain tucked amidst all the other extravagant pieces.

"She's a Hospitality worker."

Carlos saw how Charles froze. His teammate looked up. Carlos saw the horrified look on his face.

"Quoi?" The French slip was only further proof of something. Carlos's mind raced to make the connection.

The lighbulb went off just before Fred said it.

"She was your friend, non?" Fred said. "Worked with Max Verstappen in Torro Rosso." His eyes flickering over to Carlos. They had been teammates back then.

Charles's years and years of media training went out the window as he struggled to make sense of what he was hearing. Carlos, however, was suddenly thrown back a few years and thinking about just who had caused this whole shitstorm.

You.

Carlos said your name, feeling something swell up in him by saying your name in front of Charles who was your former best friend. Maybe it was ego from the recent meeting, but Carlo wanted to drive the knife in a little deeper.

"She's a very good trainer. I watched her sessions with Verstappen." And that wasn't on showing up Charles; it was the truth. Max's dominance needed to be at least somewhat accredited to you.

"Turns out she is not allowed to work for new teams." Fred spoke. "That means for McLaren to hire her goes against some contract Formula 1 put in place after an incident with Verstappen."

There was a pause. Carlos waited for Charles to say something - to say it. He didn't. So Carlos did.

"She was defending Max." Carlos said, defending you when he thought the silent Monacoan beside him would've. Didn't you two grow up together?

The Verstappen Incident, Carlos was well aware of. However, whatever happened between you and Charles... well, Carlos was out of the loop.

"It doesn't matter." Fred waved. "I'm not here to speak of the drama. But I did have a look. Mattia never told me but she has ties with Ferrari from before - "

"But she's a Hospitality worker!" Charles finally spoke up. "Mattia he-- I spoke to him about her."

"You did?" Fred took that piece in. Carlos wanted to scoff. Clearly Mattia hadn't mentioned that in the hand over notes. "What did Mattia say?" Fred asked.

"Peut-être on peut parler juste nous deux." Charles said, the switch the French reigniting Carlos' anger once more. He forced himself to breathe steadily while Fred nodded. Both men had often tried to keep to English in front of him for the sake of manners and being polite, as opposed to using their mother tongue and making Carlos feel, well, like he felt now. Excluded. Enraged.

Still, Carlos' French skills were okay enough for understand what Charles had said. He stood up and, in French, said. "I'll leave you two." Without looking back, he walked out the motorhome trying to steel himself.

He really wanted to punch something.

Walking a little ways down the Paddock, he took deep breaths and shot a flurry of texts to his dad. He needed his advice on what to do given the way the meeting had gone. It was then that a girl on rollerblades holding the Australian flag zoomed past him and Carlos looked up.

The entertainment at Albert Park never missed. Carlos smiled slightly. Australia was a fun circuit. Not his favourite track by any means but the actual circuit itself had a lot going on that he enjoyed. It was lively, music always pumping and the weather was nice.

Still, the sounds of laughter and the faint dance music that echoed through the Paddock weren't enough to lift his spirits.

And then he saw you.

You were walking with Lando's new teammate, the infamous Oscar something. He hadn't paid much attention to the newbie, hearing something vaguely about Alpine drama from Lando. It all had gone in one ear and out the other.

Now, Carlos saw you walking with him and suddenly he wished he knew more about the kid. Why him? Why were you friends with him? Since when did you have friends? And why risk it all just to train him?

Carlos had always been perfectly polite, nice. Why didn't you laugh with him? Why didn't you reach into your bag to pull out a small box and hand to him as you explained him whatever gift you had brought him? What made this Oscar kid so lucky?

Maybe it was just the Australians seeking out one another? Everyone on the Grid knew you had dated Ricciardo. That had been a painful experience. It was one thing to have pined after you, as Max his teammate's trainer. It was another to see you get swept off your feet by the senior Red Bull driver that everyone adored. Carlos' days at Red Bull sucked since all he did was think about you - and you barely paid him any attention.

Sure, he was now no longer Ricciardo's junior but it still got to him. Daniel Ricciardo had waltzed in and you had gone wide-eyed before Carlos could've even tried.

Because he would've. He really would've. Even before his dad told him who your uncle was. Even before he tried your cooking, your coffee. Even before he knew your name. A young Carlos Sainz had seen a pretty girl walking around in the same Real Madrid kit that he owned at home and immediately wanted to go up to her, to ask her name, to ask her out.

Carlos felt the door behind him open and out came Charles. He looked completely at ease despite what had occurred before. He patted Carlos on the shoulder. And just as he did that, Carlos' phone beeped. His father.

Don't get mad. Just get even on the track.

Carlos pocketed his phone but felt something ignite inside him. He would do that. It wasn't Charles' fault for Ferrari's favouritism. Carlos had to admit the Monégasque was a genuinely nice guy.

"You alright, mate?" Charles asked. "I'm really sorry about before."

"I'm alright. Excited for the race." Carlos said, changing the subject and not mentioning it at all. If anything, he would stay out if it all and just focus on the race, on proving everyone wrong. He take his father's advice and make his own mark in this team.

"Ah, Australia is always special." Charles said.

Despite what his father had said, anger came back within Carlos. It was the same anger he felt towards that Australian kid. And Daniel Ricciardo. And, to an extent, Max.

Carlos was jealous. Not for Charles' favouritism from Ferrari, but the favouritism from you. Charles had you and he'd thrown you out for whatever reason.

Carlos' eyes came back to you and suddenly he couldn't help himself. Sure, he could stay out of all the Ferrari drama but this was you. He couldn't stay out of it when you were right there, walking beside the new kid who didn't know that Charles had essentially banned every driver from interacting with you.

"Yeah?" Carlos spoke before he even realised. "What's so special about Australia?"

The answer was obvious: you.

You were what had been so special. Carlos' days at Torro Rosso meant that he knew about how you felt towards Albert Park, that it was almost like your home race.

For one, you didn't stay at the Crown Casino hotel like the rest of them. No, instead you stayed at your auntie's place by the beach. Carlos knew that from the time he had to drive a passed out Max Verstappen to said home back in 2017.

Charles' smile dropped slightly. Then he brought it back up. "Ah, you know. The sun, the people. There is a special energy here that - "

He stopped talking.

Carlos knew that his teammate had finally spotted you also. Turning his head to look over at Charles, Carlos took in the look of utter rage on his teammate's face.

And then, you looked up. You noticed him. Them. You met his eyes and then you looked at Charles. The McLaren driver was still talking beside you, oblivious to how you had clearly stopped listening to him. Charles took a deep breath.

He stormed off.

Carlos couldn't help but roll his eyes. He didn't know the truth, but Carlos had heard the many rumours as to why Charles had cut you off. He thought they were all rubbish.

Looking back at you, Carlos met your eyes once more and he thought about his options.

He knew that you were in part responsible for training one of the best drivers on the grid. He also knew that it would take a bit of a miracle to help him outperform Charles Leclerc and show Ferrari what was what.

But hey, if this Oscar kid was going to go against the grid's treasured and unspoken rule, why couldn't he?

-

You really jinxed yourself.

At first, the Australian Grand Prix was off to a great start. Sleeping at home meant that you had more comfortable waking in a bed that was familiar - and not stuck in some isolating three star hotel room that made you question the hotel rating system.

Three stars with suspicious smells coming from the closet? No, thank you.

Instead, you got to wake up to your auntie humming as she prepared her own version of pancakes. It had been a long time since anyone had made pancakes for you. And even though you had breakfast plans with Oscar and his family, you still ate some of her and kissed her goodbye as you went to the circuit.

By car. You drove yourself. In your beloved Supra, the one that had essentially taught you everything you knew about cars (that and Top Gear) were finally united.

And that in itself was a beautiful fucking thing.

There were a small handful of circuits in where you had a car in the country and could actually drive yourself. Australia was one of them. Japan was another. Monaco was the other.

Then again, Monaco was far too crazy to be driving during a race weekend anyway. Still, it was nice to be able to play some calming lo-fi beats as you drove the familiar Lakeside Drive that led up to the street circuit that was built around the lake. Your lake.

You had found yourself a good parking spot and the cafe vendor recognised you and gave you a free latte. Some marshalls walking by were joking about something nonsensical but the banter and accent made you feel warm inside. No matter the complicated feelings that being Australian brought up, you still enjoyed the laid-back attitudes that came with the softened ds and ts.

You had a good gym session, showing progress with your training. You dropped another kilogram off with the cut working well and then you were ready to go to the safe confined of the McLaren motorhome.

And then you saw the message from your co-worker.

Sorry bro. There's been a change in the roster because Mack called in sick. You're going to be covering him at Ferrari for the rest of the race weekend.

You really had jinxed yourself.

-

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[lustylita]

After it all happened.

Angst/ Open ending.

Idea is by me, but with the help of the amazing @nyx-umbrakinesis 's beautiful writing skills, I present this angsty idea!

Go give her love omg!

_______________________________________________

The extermination had ended... time had passed and the devastation left behind had been mended... mostly, the hotel had been rebuilt, Sir Pentious had been mourned and memorialised, and you... you found yourself actually beginning to be able to process what had happened.

The trauma still fresh, but day by day it's symptoms becoming more manageable. It was in this more awakened state... (as you focused more on the problems of the others around you rather than your own,) you noticed one glaringly out of sorts issue – Alastor.

He was behaving like everything was fine, like the battle had never occurred, like everyone around him hadn’t suffered either – something was off... Was it denial? You could tell something wasn’t right, his trademark smile was slightly strained, his face looking more contorted and uncomfortable than usual, and his posture constantly stiff, as though ready to fight (or flee) at a moments notice, on top of all of that he spent so much more time cooped up in his radio tower, you barely saw him as he whiled away hours upon hours away from the company others, behind the locked door of his safe space for it to be a coincidence.

You simmer on this information, and agonise for a few weeks, observing just to make sure you weren’t imagining things – even though highly unlikely – you also waited to see if he would open up to anyone, share why he’s been acting like Quasimodo in his bell tower.

However, to absolutely no-ones surprise, he did in fact not do that, (even though everyone was in the same boat, all of you suffering some form of injury or trauma).

So, with a determined air, and confident gait, you ventured up to his radio broadcast station. Footsteps echoing slightly on the wooden floorboards as you ascend the stairs, breathing labouring, legs aching from the ascent.

You knew Alastor didn’t like anyone intruding upon the sanctity of his precious room, and wouldn’t appreciate this gesture of goodwill, preferring to interact with others in the common areas when he was free, but given his new proclivity for hiding away he hadn’t really given you any other choice, since he’s never present in the public areas of the hotel anymore.

Arriving at the heavy door, teetering back and forth on your heels and toes nervously for a moment, you take a deep breath, steeling your nerves.

You reach up with a sure hand and knock loudly on his door and wait. You heard rustling of scattered papers and the clang of something sturdy being knocked over in haste, and fumbling as he clearly tried to correct the error.

In this it became evident to you that your suspicions were correct, he was indeed hiding, or withholding, something of significance, you blinked several times snapping out of your thoughts when the door squeaked as it swifly opened.

“Ah, hello little one! To what do I owe this visit!” Alastor says with an exaggerated flair, his smile tensed, and his eye twitched looking more manic than you’ve seen from your observation of him this whole week.

Before you could get any words out however, he continued as though filled with effervescent bubbles, really overemphasising every movement and word, his smile looked like a wide crack in a porcelain plate, “Do come in, my dear, my broadcast won’t begin for another hour, I have plenty of time for a special guest,” He guided you inside, a hand ghosting on the small of your back, almost forcefully,

“Come on, in, in,” his voice sounded unnerving.

You took this as the opportune moment to confront him, so after taking another nervous breath and taking note of a bead of sweat travelling down his forehead.

“Alastor, I know you don’t like divulging your feelings, and that’s all well and good... But I do feel like opening up could be cathartic for you... To put it bluntly, ever since the extermination you’ve been acting strange – more so than usual. Alastor everyone’s beginning to notice, it’s getting more and more obvious with every day that goes by. You’re withdrawn, you don’t torment Husk nearly as much as you used to, even Charlie and Niffty can’t get your attention, and you literally set Vaggie on fire last week,” You nervously twirled the ring on your index finger around and around (a nervous tick) as you watched his whole body freeze.

“I haven’t the faintest clue what you’re insinuating, my dear.” his voice sounding strained as he dismissed your theories.

Just as you’d predicted. However his nonchalant attitude about the situation was anything but, with the way he looked at you with a rigid grin, and stiff posture all but confirmed everything.

And you knew... you knew, that if you pushed slightly, put pressure on the raw emotion you would get at least some form of an answer. So without any self preservation.

“Alastor please.” Sounding exhausted, “You know I’m not ignorant, I thought it would be better if I came to you first about this, or would you rather it were Charlie who came to see you in this state? I think this solution to be the lesser of two evils, wouldn’t you agree?”

Your brow raised as you tried to rationalise with him, in contrast his brow began to furrow in irritation, his ears even pulled back, and you could swear you almost heard a growl, “I would prefer if all of you left me well enough alone. If I wanted assistance, I would ask. Quite the probing busybodies you lot are, leave me be.”

He stalked over to his desk, his boots making a dull thud, almost stomping, before huffing and taking a seat in his chair heavily, all while still regarding you intimidatingly with displeased narrowed crimson eyes, his grin still unchanged.

With an agitated huff of your own, you slowly approach Alastor again, “Us? Busybodies? Says the man who relishes every opportunity to intrude into people’s personal space, get in peoples faces for the sheer entertainment of it all. God forbid the people who have spent months with you getting to know you, enjoying your company actually care about you Alastor!”

Angrily pacing before him, your hands gesturing wildly in your temper, “so why don’t you please just enlighten me on what’s wrong, at least then I can stop Charlie from coming up here and dealing with you in this state, and then maybe I can let you go back to whatever it is you’re doing in here all day everyday, become a hermit for all I care, just tell me and then I can leave, I want to actually enjoy my afternoon.”

You knew goading him was risky, but he really knew how to push your buttons, having now paused before his chair again leaving but a few inches between you as you puff like an angered wildebeest.

You observe him, his expression darkened, but as he looked up at you, you saw it again, the same facade, cracking him again, making your heart lurch, he laughed at you condescendingly.

Rolling his eyes, Alastor looks back to you coldly, “Absolutely, nothing is wrong with me.” His voice becoming more scratchy as the radio effect worsens, suddenly he’s towering over you.

Hoping intimidation would be enough to deter you he continues, patronising you, “I’m not a weak little demon like you dear, I don’t need someone to hold my hand, or help take me for a walk, or talk about my feelings in a nice little share circle.” His grin became dangerous.

“I’m an overlord, one of the most feared in all of hell, I am quite capable of dealing with my own issues, not that I have any. I don’t need you or anyone else in this tacky hotel to think you could possibly make any impact on me when you’re all just such pathetic little failures, I can’t believe you of all demons think that I care, well allow me to disabuse you of this notion. I don’t and never will, and if yo-“

Alastor watches with manic glee as your eyes quickly harden with rage and your shoulders begin to twitch bunching up with unbridled rage, as you react faster than you can think, your arm coiling back, with full intention of giving a well deserved slap to the contentious lanky shit, however, before your hand could move barely an inch, Alastor fast as lightning grabs your wrist.

Now also enraged at your impudence, Alastor menacingly backs you up, until you find yourself pressed against the red cold glass window overlooking the exterior of the hotel, his grip on your wrist bruising and tinged with pain, as he leans down towards your ear. Uttering in a low angry growl, his breath tickling your ear.

“Would you care to try that again, dear?”

#hazbinhotel #alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #oc #alastor x oc #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #agnst

[gredandforgeweatherby]

A Shared Joint

Theo Nott x reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, weed consumption, swearing, making out, brooding?reader (it’ll make sense), Google translated Italian

A/N: Italian!Theo always‼️(accent🤩) ((this man is so hot)), not specified what house you are in.

The Slytherin common room was packed to the brim, mostly with slytherin and ravenclaws, though you could spot some Hufflepuffs and the occasion Gryffindor. The lights were low, music blaring through the speakers as students danced, drank, and talked all around you. Every corner of the room seemed to have a couple making out and groping each other, and smoke from cigarettes and joints hung low in the air.

You didn’t want to be at this party. You would’ve much preferred drinking with your friends in one of your dorms as you normally would. Instead your best friend wanted to come to slytherin’s party that night, and you didn’t want her to go alone. So that’s how you found yourself where you were now; sat on the large couch in the center or the room, one arm propped on the arm of the couch, your head resting upon it with an uninterested look etched on your face.

You watched as your friend danced with some kid in your year, both clearly intoxicated. You had taken a couple of shots and had currently been nursing a drink for the last hour and were entirely too sober for this. The room was hot, the amount of people only exasperating that, the pounding in your head had begun to match the pounding of the music, and you were tired. You wanted to leave, but you knew your friend didn’t. She was having the time of her life dancing with… Berkshire? You weren’t sure. All you know was that she had a smile on her face, so you were more than willing to wait out this boring party for her.

It was only a few minutes later, though it felt like another hour had passed, when you felt the couch dip next to you. Your curiosity getting the better of you, you turn your head to the side to be met with Theodore Nott’s profile. He was staring ahead, his eyes low and his mouth straight as usual. He held a drink in one of his hands, and as he leaned his head on the back of the couch, you spotted a joint resting behind his ear. He was dressed as he always was: smart pants paired with a (probably) expensive button up, the first few buttons undone.

You turned your attention back in front of you, your gaze searching for your friend. She was still dancing with the same kid, though now with considerably more groping and tension. At least one of us is enjoying ourselves, you thought. Surveying the room, it seemed the only two people not on their feet were you and Nott, which made you feel a bit out of place. You weren’t able to linger on that feeling for long though.

“At least I know I’m not the only one who’d rather be anywhere else.” Theo broke the silence between you two. His accent made it a bit harder to understand him under the loud music, but you surpassingly managed.

You turned your head to your right, making eye contact as his head was already tilted toward you. You had to admit, Theodore Nott was attractive. More than that, he was hot. His eyes bore into yours, his stare making you feel as if he seeing straight into your soul.

Breaking eye contact, you huffed out a chuckle.

“I’m only here because my friend wanted to come.”

“Ah,” a half smile-half smirk crossed his face, “being a good friend and not leaving her to come on her own I assume?”

You nodded in response.

He turned his head back straight, breathing out a barely audible sigh.

“Only here ‘cause it’s your common room I assume? Can’t really escape these idiots can you?” You turned back to him to once again be met with the side of his face. He didn’t respond right away, which made you think he was ignoring you, before he sighed.

“My friends like to throw these parties. I find it fucking annoying to have to clean up after everyone the next morning. Too much work sai?”

You nodded. “Thats understandable. Merlin knows I wouldn’t want to do that shit.”

Theo chuckled. “That’s exactly what I’m saying bella.”

You raised your eyebrows in response and turned back towards the crowd. Out of your peripheral vision you could see Theo reach behind his ear for the joint. He rolled it in between his fingers for a few seconds before standing. He walked a bit, before stopping a step or two past the arm of the couch and turns his body towards you.

“Would you like to join?”

──────────────────────

Theo guided you out of the common room up a set of stairs out of the dungeons. The two of you were currently at one of the open windows of the castle, you sitting on the ledge and Theo leaning against it. He pulled a lighter from his pocket before handing you the joint.

“Ladies first of course.” He stated, that half smile-half smirk from earlier making another appearance. You huffed out a laugh and took the joint from his fingers, setting it between your lips, as he lit it for you.

You and Theo passed the joint between the two of you in a comfortable silence. For not having too much interaction with him all these years, it wasn’t awkward like one would have thought. This silence that lingered allowed you to observe Theo when he wasn’t paying attention. You had already admitted to yourself he was hot, everyone knew that, but you have never really seen that for yourself. Now, with a nice high, you were finally seeing for yourself that Theodore Nott was hot. Really hot. He took another hit off the joint before looking back to you, luckily giving you enough time to make it seem like you hadn’t been staring.

Theo offered you the joint and you took it, directing your glance upward as you rest your head against the wall, zoning out a bit. While you weren’t paying attention, he took it as a chance to do the same you have been doing seconds prior, unbeknownst to you. He had always thought you were attractive, he had seen you throughout all your years here. Seeing you tonight by yourself looking like you’d rather die than be at that party gave him the perfect opportunity to actually talk to you. He didn’t necessarily fancy you, you were someone who caught his eye several times, but he could definitely see that changing.

You finally zoned back in and could feel Theo’s eyes on you.

“You’re staring.”

He only breathed a small chuckle. “Am I?”

You locked eyes with him. “Yes.”

Theo kept your eye contact, not seeming embarrassed he was caught staring. Pushing off his arms that were on the ledge of the window, he turned his body to face you.

“What a shame,” his gaze flitted downward before meeting your eyes again. “una bella ragazza mi ha sorpreso a fissarlo.”

Though you weren’t quite sure what he said, you had to admit it was hot when he spoke in Italian. With his gaze still meeting yours, he moved again, this time shifting between your legs. Unconsciously, you opened them a bit wider for him. His hand ghosted over your thigh, a feather light touch almost sending shivers down your spine.

“You shouldn’t stare. It is rude after all.” You replied lamely after realizing you hadn’t responded yet. One side of his mouth tilts up in a half smile.

“Scusa.” He muttered, rolling his lips in to wet them. “Didn’t mean to be rude.” He moved his hand up a bit further, making sure you were still okay with the contact.

“If staring at you is rude would kissing you be rude too?” He asked, his eyes boring into your own.

Instead of responding verbally, you moved to put one of your hands on his face, and leaning in to kiss him.

He responded immediately, kissing you back with fervor. The hand on your thigh moved up even further while his other went to your jaw. You moved your other hand through his hair, lightly tugging on the roots. Theo released a light moan in response, his mouth opening enough for your tongue to slip inside. You scooted closer to him, most of your body hanging off the ledge of the window. Theo moved his hand up under your dress as his hand on your jaw pulled you closer. The two of you were breathing heavy, the kiss igniting a hunger for the other neither of you realized you had. The two of you continued to kiss until a distant bang caught your attention. Jumping away from him, you realized the bang came from the dungeons, and that someone had come out of the common room. Theo tired to chase your lips, using the hand on your jaw to try and pull you back to him when you heard someone quietly call your name.

“Shit,” you sighed. The only person at the party that would’ve been looking for you was your best friend, you could tell it was her the closer she got to you and Theo.

Theo lowered his hand from your jaw, letting it fall to your waist before moving away so you could get down.

“I guess you have to go.” He asked, though they way he said it made it seem like a statement.

“If she’s looking for me it probably means she’s ready to go, so.”

You finally got off the window ledge, Theo’s hands on your waist as you did. Before going back down to the dungeon, you turned to him. One hand on the back of his neck, you drew him into a quick kiss.

“We should continue tho sometime.” You mumbled against his lips.

“Anytime you want.” He nodded.

You gave him a small smile before slipping your hand off your next and bidding him goodbye.

“Ciao bella.” He called to you before you were out of earshot.

You turned back around, winking at him before disappearing down the stairs.

─────────────────────

I’m thinking of making a smutty part 2, so let me know if you would like that. Enjoy xx!

#harry potter #Harry Potter x reader #Theodore nott #Theo nott #Lorenzo Zurzolo #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #lorenzo zurzolo x reader #theo nott smut #Harry Potter smut #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader

[10yo-anon]

✩ STUDY SESSION. ✩

Satoru x reader

♡⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹♡

♡⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹♡

⚠️: uh..smut?? idk the specific names. quick drabble so not proofread! any1 can interact!!

WC: jus a lil drabble.I aint counting allat 🙏😭 (its 706. i got curious.)

A/N: life sucks. here's my attempt to write smut 😔

♡⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹♡

why did people never tell you medical exams were this stressful? . . . well...they did. you just never believed them enough. but it's still their fault they didn't exaggerate it enough!

that's what you kept ranting to your Satoru as you studied— can you even call it studying? though you had everything ready on your bed, your books, notes, blah blah blah, all you really did was sit right beside it and play music... but on the bright side, you only started rambling when Satoru walked into your room! that's already a point for you!

but oh were you grateful for your concerned boyfriend, putting all his time into helping you out... at the same time you also despise him... despite the way he won't move until you answer his little Q&A right.

♡⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹♡

"awh.. c'mon baby.. don't tell me you can't answer... I promise its the last question." you hate the way Satoru smiles at you like that.. knowing damn well why you can't even focus... acting like he isn't folding you in half right now.. balls deep inside you and not moving.. "you know I'll give you what you want after this.."

"m' tryin!.." you pant, mind fuzzy as you beg for him to move already. "ah ah, you have to answer first, pretty." he lightly pats your cheek to taunt you.

Satoru drops his head down to nibble on your neck as he waits for you to talk, trying to distract himself from fucking you dumb because as much as he wants to, he knows you want to pass your exams. besides, he's only edging you for a purpose!

he soon eggs you into squealing the answer out when his free hand slides down to rub soft circles on your clit, hissing as your gummy walls squeeze around his leaking cock.

"There we go.. see? such a smart girl you are." he praises, and you turn your head to the side in embarrassment before his free hand grabs your chin to make you face him, his other hand slapping your now puffy clit.

"now, you wanna tell me what you want?" you shake your head no, instead, you attempt to grind against him, trying to find friction. he only laughs before his hand goes to your inner thigh, pinning you down and still.

"w..wha?— n-no! ah, need... need more!" you whine, "need what, doll?" he asks, happy with himself as he managed to make you this desperate so quickly. "I need you, 'Toru! puh—please jus' fuck me already! I answere—" you get cut off as he pulls out 'till his tip is barely in you before harshly thrusting you, barely giving you time to get used to the intrusion.

"Aah.. shit— really squeezin' me here.. don't worry, ngh.. I'll give ya what you need..!" both of his hands now on your thighs, spreading them apart as he sets a slow and rough pace, his pink tip kissing your cervix with every thrust, leading to your mouth in an o shape, eyes rolling back to meet stars.

"mmn! ah...! s-so good!" you shamelessly moan out, arms wrapping around his neck. He watches you intently, angling his hips to penetrate your g-spot before speeding his pace.

as you get more and more vocal, he suddenly kisses you, his tongue meeting yours, shutting you up. "stay quiet, sweets... you don't want people to know you're such a slut now.." he groans into the kiss, but it only turns you on more. "h—haah... t-tch. of course you'd want them to know.. what will I ever do with my kinky baby."

You close your eyes shut, feeling your body on the edge of an orgasm. " m' s-so close, s-sooo—" Your walls tighten around his cock, and he throws his head back as a ring of your cum forms at the base of his dick.

"baby— shitshitshit! aah... please lemme c-cum inside..!" you eagerly nod your head, and his thrusts get sloppier and sloppier before his tip pokes through your cervix, shooting thick ropes of cum.

As he catches his breath, he scans your face, and it's obvious you're fucked out. "darling, you can't sleep yet.. we've only finished one topic. You still have a lot more questions to answer..."

♡⊹🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧⊹♡

A/N: and im asking WHYYY LORDDDDD!!! (shoutout to the ballad of jane doe case i love that osng sm)

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru fluff #satoru smut #gojo fluff #gojo smut #satoru #gojo #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #☆— 【 fanfiction !! 】

[moviecritc]

hii ! i was wondering if i could request a fanfic about Max verstappen and y/n —or you can give her a name UR CHOICE :) — anyways could you possibly follow the lines of them being complete strangers meeting in the Mexico GP, to becoming friends, then later on being lovers.

I’m not sure if you like to write sad stories but could you also possibly make a sad ending where towards the end they break up and whenever they are around eachother they act like complete strangers

Hopefully you take my request :) it was mainly inspired by a song called “strange” by Celeste !

Thank youuu !!

fortnight ⋆ max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x reporter!reader

word count: 2.7K

warnings: bad boyfriend behaviour, angst (sort of)

a/n: it took me so long finishing this, and im not fully convinced with the result :( i also changed things a bit. anyways i loved the whole vibe, so maybe i write something similar soon

also this ended up giving massive fortnight by t swift vibes so i named it bc of that

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

They were made for each other, or at least that's what everyone said. They had their first encounter at the Mexican Grand Prix. Y/N had been working as a reporter and interviewer for the races all season, but she had never had the chance to interview Max.

Mexico must have been one of Y/N's favorite places, all the culture, food, and people made her feel very welcomed. The race week in Mexico was the one she felt most nostalgic about once the season was over.

She arrived at the airport on Tuesday or Wednesday, she didn't quite remember, the only thing she remembered about her arrival in Mexico was the jet lag and that instead of grabbing her suitcase, she took Max Verstappen's.

She had always felt a certain intimidation towards him, by his way of driving and treating his teammates on the track. So, she was terrified to have to contact him. Surprisingly, it was Max who contacted her.

He called a few hours after she arrived at the hotel, she still wondered how he got her phone number and her name.

"Y/N L/N?" he asked. She recognized the voice and took a few seconds to process it. "I'm Max. I think I have your suitcase."

"Hello, yes. Uh, I think I have your suitcase too," She scratched her neck a bit.

"Ah, fantastic. Are you free now to exchange them?"

"Sure, yeah. Where?"

"I can come to your hotel, I don't want to cause you too much trouble," Max commented in a calm tone. That seemed like a super sweet gesture coming from him.

"Alright, I'll send you the location, come whenever you can," And they hung up.

Y/N was quite impressed by how nice Max had been, and that it was him who contacted her and offered to go to the hotel, even though she was the one who took the wrong suitcase.

Literally five minutes later they called her room phone, telling her that someone was asking for her. She went down with the suitcase immediately, meeting the pilot and his suitcase.

Max waved his hand a bit so she would know it was him, although Y/N knew perfectly well who he was. Max observed her, she had brown hair with lighter tips than the rest of her hair, probably from dyeing it in the past, and quite long curtain bangs. Somehow her face looked familiar to him, as if he had seen her before, but at the same time not.

"Hey, here you go," Y/N handed him the suitcase and they made the exchange. "I'm really sorry for the trouble, really, I didn't even realize it wasn't my suitcase,"

"It's okay, don't worry. Did you open the suitcase?" He slightly bit his lip.

"Well, yes. But I only saw the eight or nine Red Bull shirts, I realized it wasn't my suitcase," she said, smiling.

That made Max laugh. "Are you here for the race?"

"Well, yes, I'm a reporter for DAZN," Y/N nodded.

Max raised his chin a bit, understanding why the brunette looked so familiar. He looked around and then at his watch. "Are you busy now?"

Y/N blinked, was he…?

"No, not now," she pressed her lips, trying to hide a smile.

"Can I invite you for a coffee?" he smiled shyly.

"Oh," Y/N pondered for a few seconds what to tell him.

"If not, don't worry," Max spoke. Maybe she had been thinking about the answer for too long.

"No, of course. I'd love to,"

Was it a strange start? Yes. But only that afternoon they connected in such a strange way that it scared them. Y/N had two Siamese cats, Max had two Bengal cats. He spent hours on the sim, she could spend hours watching the same series, which wasn’t exactly the same, but close. They both supported FC Barcelona and the most surprising thing was that she had been on exchange in the Netherlands, at the same school Max was attending. The only thing was that he barely went to classes because he was going from championship to championship.

That afternoon it felt as if someone had made them meet, because it was too much of a coincidence to find someone so similar to you because of one suitcase.

"Will I see you in the paddock tomorrow?" Max asked, as they were saying goodbye.

"I hope so,"

"Stop by the Red Bull garage if you have time,"

Y/N nodded and bit her lip, still unable to believe the instant connection she had with Max. She even forgot she had terrible jet lag. At no point did she consider that this could end badly.

…

At the Brazil Grand Prix, they were already sharing a hotel room. Nobody knew yet that they were together so they could come and go as they pleased. Y/N was still a reporter for DAZN, although now that she spent so much time with Max her reports started to be shorter and with fewer details. She barely paid attention to the races, she stayed near the Red Bull garage, trying to see him when he entered the pits.

By that time, Y/N realized that maybe she was spending too much time with Max. In just those two weeks, Max had been pivoting between the sim and the hotel bed. At first, he said nice things to her and stayed with her for a while, asking her what she had been doing or what movie she was going to watch now. But the last time, he dressed immediately and went back to the sim.

Y/N even remembered how well they had connected and how comfortable she had felt, although it had only been fourteen days ago. She didn't even think about confronting him, after all, they were nothing, they never were.

Why? A serious relationship would only take up time that he could use for much more productive things for his career. That was better, even if it made the brunette feel as if he only wanted to satisfy himself with her.

"Max, it's late and I'm hungry, what if we go out for dinner?" Y/N entered her room where he had all the set up, it was the first time she saw it and she thought it was crazy that Max had all those screens, all those gadgets just to pretend to drive.

"I can't now, schat," he said, moving his hand a bit to try to make physical contact with her, but he didn't manage to because he didn't take his eyes off the screen.

"Well, remember we have the flight to Las Vegas tomorrow at noon. Come to bed soon," Y/N commented, looking at his crown.

She fell asleep before feeling Max's weight on the bed.

She didn't know why, but she really thought that in Vegas something would change, maybe because of the atmosphere or because it was the last races, maybe he would be slightly more relaxed now that he had practically won the championship. She even thought they would enter the paddock together, that she would have a fixed spot in the Red Bull garage or something, but a minimum of recognition from him towards her.

But it was quite the opposite. Max didn't show up in the paddock until Thursday afternoon while she had to be there since Tuesday. He made her take the plane alone and he didn't even text her when he landed. She had to find out he was already in Las Vegas when she saw him passing by her in the paddock and Y/N made a gesture to greet him, smile at him or make a simple gesture, but Max passed by without even looking at her.

That's when she realized she would have to confront him. He was behaving like a complete jerk, and Y/N was sure she wasn't the first woman who got fed up with him for that.

With a couple of calls and several messages, she managed to find out the hotel and the room where Max was staying. After a day full of interviews, Y/N went straight to the hotel address, knocking on his door.

"Hey, hello," he said, already in his pajamas and with a tired look. "I was thinking about you."

"Oh, me too," Seeing Max's hand on her waist, Y/N pulled away from him immediately.

Max raised his eyebrows at once, surprised by the abruptness of the brunette. "Are you alright?"

Y/N lowered her gaze slightly, choosing her words. Suddenly she was more than nervous to say something. "What… what are we?"

"In what sense?" he asked cautiously. He thought it was too soon for that conversation.

"What sense is it going to be?" she approached, realizing that Max probably was just a man like the rest, who had an unjustified fear of naming relationships.

"Uh," he said. Y/N blinked, waiting for a more complete sentence. "Do you want to make it public or something?"

Y/N ignored the 'or something', sticking only to the first words. She smiled a little, getting closer to Max.

"Is that what you want?" He asked again, putting his hands on her waist now that she let him.

"I would like that, yes," she nodded, before Max gave her a quick kiss. "You've been leaving me hanging for a few days."

"Schat, you know I have to train and prepare for the races," Max insisted, sliding his hands much lower than her waist.

Y/N was going to say something, but Max caught her lips and didn't let go until he felt satisfied.

On Friday they arrived together at the paddock, attracting attention from the media. They didn't talk much, she was afraid they would read her lips.

Y/N had to go with her team to interview the Ferrari team and they kissed in front of a couple of cameras as a goodbye. The image went viral in minutes. After finishing the interviews, she received a couple of comments from people around the paddock about how lucky Max was to have found her.

Y/N couldn't understand how he was the lucky one. After all, she was the one with the Formula 1 star pilot. She got on Twitter, seeing how several users commented on how amazing she was, how she had managed to make a name for herself in motorsport, how sweet and funny people found her, Y/N would never in her life use "funny" as an adjective to describe herself. And the best part, that Max should feel more than lucky to have her. That they made a practically perfect couple, that they coordinated super well. Just a few steps in the paddock had made them the couple of the moment. The example to follow.

Max won that race and jumped into her arms when he got out of the car, giving her a strong wet kiss in a very unsexy way. That totally took Y/N by surprise, she couldn't believe his first thought after winning was her. Who knows which of his PR team told him to do that.

"I'll see you in a few hours, wait for me in the hotel room," Max told her, kissing her cheek.

"Max, I also work here. I have to do interviews," she reminded him, with a somewhat serious look.

"Ah, alright,"

"Let me know when you're done," Y/N turned without saying or doing anything else.

She worked until late at night without being able to get out of her head that she and Max had progressed so much in the relationship that they had skipped all the really good parts, the honeymoon phase. And this time it had been her fault, it had been her idea to make it public maybe too soon.

She arrived at Max's room, which was dimly lit and cold. She took a long shower, still wondering what she should do now that their relationship wasn't working out at all.

When she came out of the shower, with wet hair and pajamas on, she found Max lying on the bed, sliding his finger over the screen of his cell phone.

"The shower is free now, were you waiting for long?" Y/N spoke, tilting her head slightly.

"I'm already showered, I was waiting for you," Max admitted with a sweet look.

"Oh," she said. "You didn't have to, I'm sure you're tired,"

Y/N walked cautiously to the free side of the bed, because they hadn't even talked about their sides of the bed. Max got up and changed his clothes, Y/N remembered how good shape Max was in and how good he was in bed as he was with the car. She discreetly bit her lip.

"I wanted to talk to you, actually," Max mentioned as he sat down next to her, giving Y/N goosebumps. "Did you see that people adore us?" Max hugged her by the shoulders, pulling her closer to him.

Y/N let out a sustained thread of air in her lungs and smiled. "Yes," It seemed strange to Max that that was the only thing that came out of Y/N's mouth. "Is that a good thing, isn't it?" he asked, now somewhat confused. "Of course, someone should."

Max blinked, now separating from her body so he could see her well. "What do you mean by that?"

"Since we don't adore each other," she mentioned, as if by chance.

"What do you mean by that?" Max asked, having no idea what Y/N was saying.

She sighed, shaking her head slightly. She wondered how someone couldn't realize something so simple.

"Forget it, Max," she fixed, getting comfortable in bed. "I'm tired."

"Wait, let's talk," he insisted, getting closer to her, with a worried look.

Y/N clicked her tongue, sitting up on the pillow. "Do you like me?"

"Of course, you're beautiful and attentive and intelligent. Why wouldn't I like you?"

That made her heart shrink a bit. "But do you see me as something lasting?"

Max thought about his answer. No. "I don't know,"

That was enough for Y/N to know the real answer, she clicked her tongue and moved slightly away from him.

"Y/N, you have to understand that I have a complicated job and…"

"For God's sake, Max, we both work in the same field. If you want to blame the distance or something like that, it won't work," Y/N denied, biting her cheek with anger.

Max pressed his lips, trying to hide that that was exactly what he was going to do.

"I think I better leave," Y/N commented, pulling the sheets.

Max saw all her movements, from when she got up until she picked up her things and left through the door. Y/N still somehow hoped he would say something, but Max didn't even move. He simply waited for her to leave so he could lie down and go to sleep.

Y/N didn't cry, she didn't even consider it. It had been a short time and there was no need to waste time thinking about what could have happened. For God's sake, she didn't even know if it had been a real relationship.

It had started perfectly but had been declining just a few days after they met.

In the last Grand Prix, Y/N was with her team most of the time, writing columns for DAZN's website report and preparing questions for her colleagues' interviews.

"Y/N, here are the questions for Max's interviews," her colleague said.

"Huh?"

"Everyone wants you to interview Max, for obvious reasons," he nodded, as if it were totally normal.

"I don't think it's a good idea," Y/N mentioned, making a face.

"Y/N, he and everyone else are waiting for the interview," he insisted, nodding his head behind his back. Y/N turned discreetly, observing Max leaning against a wall, trying so hard not to look at her.

"Fuck," she muttered with a soft frown. "Ok, let's do this quick,"

She standed up with a bored and sick stare, there was Red Bull's engineers everywhere and even people taking pictures of her.

"Hey," he greeted her as she approached.

"Let's get this over with quickly, okay?" she nodded.

"Try not to be too harsh, people still think we're together," Max commented.

Y/N's gaze hardened. "I'll do whatever I want, Max," she clenched her jaw and gave the cameraman a nod to start broadcasting the interview.

#max verstappen #f1 #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #noraverse 🫧 #formula 1 one shot #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen angst #mv1 #mv33 #mv1 x reader

[notbecauseofvictories]

Longtime follower and I love seeing your insights, so wondered if you had thoughts or advice on this:

I live alone and I'm not in a relationship, though I do date. I'd say ninety percent of the time I really enjoy my life, seven percent I'm a bit sad or annoyed about not having a partner yet, and three percent I get tossed into the Pit of Despair. That three percent can be tied into hormonal cycles, bad timing, etc - even when I know the cause, it still needs to be lived through. Has that happened with you? If so, how do you manage it? I do okay, but it feels like I could do better.

Ah, but the Pit of Despair and I are best friends now. I've sent pictures from the Pit, all featuring me with an absolutely humorless, rictus grin, which does make me wonder why no one else has noticed yet. I have a timeshare in the Pit of Despair. I spend some time there every six months or so, standing in the middle of my impossibly overgrown, dingy garden, and thinking to myself, how did I get here? how do I get out?

And then, as though endurance isn't enough...then your timeshare in the Pit ends. You emerge in the daylight and immediately forget how grey and hopeless that garden was, the weirdly stained, collapsing furniture in the corner and the crooked yellowing plants and that mean laughter you could sometimes hear over the sounds of waving grass. You think to yourself: that will never happen again! I am free! I am cured!

(This will feel so much worse, the next time you're shoved back into the stupid garden.)

That said, I don't think you're going to like my answer to your next question. This is because I don't like my answer; unfortunately, it remains the only answer I have to this question.

I think having some unsettled sorrow, just a touch existential despair, is the best we can hope to do in this life.

I think that with both rueful humor and deep, deep disgust, which is typically the combo I bring to musings about being a person. Of course it's a little funny---look at the monkey, it's got anxiety!---and of course it's also frustrating, unspeakable outside of bitter cursing, a problem that will not be fixed because quite frankly it's built too deeply into us to be cut out cleanly and thrown away.

(Look at the fucking monkey, you can tell yourself through gritted teeth, standing in that horrible garden with weeks of dirty dishes in the sink and an inbox of emails and friends blowing up your phone with plans you hate to even think about. It's got anxiety.)

I do not have a cure for this. I manage it with the same sort of humor and ruefulness and bitterness that I mentioned above---I don't beat myself up anymore, when I realize I'm standing in the horrible garden again. I know it too well. Sometimes it has an okay wifi connection? I watch some movies. I get done what I can, and forgive myself the rest. I have been here before; I will get out again. I just need to be patient.

Once I'm out, there will be a whole world, I know there will---full of music I haven't heard before and stories that won't make me cringe and emails I will respond to with ease and conversations where I can be light, amusing even. There is a world beyond the Pit. There is always a world beyond the Pit, I just can't find my way back sometimes.

In the meantime, I take another terrible picture in front of the stained furniture, and caption it "Hello from the Pit!!!" with a bunch of exclamation points to indicate that it's a joke, even though it isn't.

I wait.

#there is no experience of being human without suffering. even the most blessed happy person you know suffers. #so the question becomes: how do you fit suffering inside of you. how do you deal with it. #I sit in a horrible garden and pretend not to listen to the weird disembodied laughter #knowing that this too shall pass. #it will suck in the interim! but it will pass. #sarah gives advice

[deadsetobsessions]

Pt. 3

Again, the timing is icky but pretty much everything about it is icky.

——

Bruce wondered when Talia al Ghul would stop upheaving his life.

He loves Damian, but one surprise child was a lot, considering the cult deprogramming they’d had to do.

A second, older, surprise child? That was a bit overkill.

At least this time, the conception was consensual.

Bruce cradled his head in his hands, still-gloved fingers gripping onto sweat-soaked hair. The glow of the bat computer shone on his lone figure, sat huddled before endless screens of investigations and the unraveling threads of Bruce’s sanity.

How was he to cope with the knowledge that a child- his child, like Dick and Damian and Tim and Jason and- suffered so at the man he thought he had beaten so soundly?

It was his fault, Bruce thought, that Ra’s al Ghul tortured his… Bruce’s… daughter so brutally. It was no doubt, a way to assuage his anger at Bruce’s denial of being his heir.

His mistakes always came back to haunt him, but it never laid its furious eyes and hands on his own person. No, when Bruce made mistakes, his loved ones paid for it.

He tried his best, pushed harder as Batman, in penance. But this… his unknown daughter, trapped in the shadows of the league where it is cold and cruel and brutally painful…

How could he repent for the sin of letting his daughter suffer and chained at the hands of Ra’s al Ghul? How could he show her that the shadows could be kind? That he would rather break his own spine and get lost in the time stream again before he could even fathom hurting her? He found himself stuck in the same loop of thoughts that plagued him when Damian first came into his orbit.

The screens turned black, and Oracle’s call sign flashed onto the dark pixels.

“Oracle. I hadn’t finished looking at the cases.”

“Go to sleep, Bruce.”

“No, there is still work to be-” his voice, dipping into the growl, died a quick death when Barbara cut him off.

“Your daughter is coming tomorrow. So, unless you want to look like a disheveled grease racoon when you meet her, go shower and get some actual sleep.”

Bruce paused, feeling oddly offended. His eye bags weren’t that bad.

Bruce caught sight of his reflection in one of the blacked out monitors.

…Nevermind.

He sighed. “…Thank you, Barbara.”

“Anytime, Bruce. I’m always here to kick your ass into gear.”

Bruce huffed, but obligingly got up to change and shower. Alfred silently appeared at the elevators, polished shoes tapping against the stone floor as he raised an imperious eyebrow at Bruce.

“I see Miss Barbara has managed to persuade you to retire at an hour common to regular man, Master Bruce.”

“Ah, yes, she… did.” Bruce felt the urge to apologize, because if Alfred’s up because of him, it’ll wear down harsher on the older man’s health. If there was one thing he took seriously, it would be the health of his loved ones. “Sorry, Alfred. I’ll head up to bed soon.”

“See to it that you do, Master Bruce. I will warm dinner that you had missed by many hours and bring it to your room.”

Bruce lingered as the butler turned around and began making his way back to the main house.

Alfred paused and turned around once more. “If I may offer you some advice?”

“Please. Always.”

Alfred sniffed delicately, most definitely thinking of the times Bruce decided not to take his very well reasoned and seasoned advice. “You have done well with Young Master Damian.”

“Most of that was Dick,” Bruce interrupted, man enough to admit that he wasn’t a present or a particularly good father figure before his jaunt through time and space. Alfred shot him a chiding look, reprimanding him for interrupting. Bruce rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Perhaps, but you have put in effort towards all of your children in a way that I have yet to see since Master Jason had… gone.”

“I’ll never make that period of time up to Tim.” Bruce whispered. Another thing he was guilty of. Tim still avoided some spaces in the manor, even when Bruce had-

“That is because you sit here, wallowing in your guilt,” Alfred returned. He added a belated “Master Bruce,” and it sounded like ‘you utter buffoon.’

“But…”

“You must take the first step, Master Bruce.”

“What if she hates me? What if I’m not ready- what if I can’t help her?”

“You will try. She deserves that, at the very least. You must try. Even if you are not ready for the day, Master Bruce, it can not always be night.”

“… You’re right.” Bruce straightened his shoulders. Time doesn’t wait. He, of all people, knew that.

“You will find that I am hardly ever wrong.” Alfred primly rested his hands atop each other.

“Thank you, Alfred.”

“Of course. It was also meant literally, Master Bruce, for the sun shall try its best to peek out of Gotham’s smog in approximately three hours and fourteen minutes.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Bruce grouched.

——

Her mother gave her a slow, cautious hug, akin to approaching a wild animal.

She huffed, and pulled her mother into a crushing hug. She allowed herself, for the first time in a long time, to linger and cling onto her mother’s shirt. Another tendency that Ra’s had thought he’d beaten out of her.

“Be careful,” the reincarnation whispered.

“You as well, my beloved daughter.”

‘You do not have to remind me that I am beloved, mother. I know.’

Talia al Ghul tucked a strand of the reincarnation’s curled hair behind her ear. “No, I do not believe that you do. But that is… my own fault. I will tell you and remind you that you are beloved to me as long as I can. I have two decades of it to make up to you, habibti.”

The flight attendant- a League operative- returned from placing her bags onto the private plane.

——

A sleek car made its way up Wayne Manor’s winding driveway. She’d declined the offer to pick her up from the airport. She had wanted a vehicle of her own, and some time before she met every one else. No doubt, knowing what she knew of her brother and Bruce Wayne, not to mention the little photographer, they were most likely tracing her path to Wayne manor obsessively.

She tapped her nails on the wheel as she drove towards her brother. Brothers. And… Bruce Wayne. On one hand, she’s kept them safe. On the other, she’d sacrificed years of getting to know them. It was odd, to feel this intensely awkward and nervous after years of intense hatred or apathy sprinkled by the the occasional love and fondness for Damian and her mother.

“Hmmm.” She hummed, slight smile spreading a bit more as the sound came out without pain. Two weeks, and the novelty of freedom had not worn off. She thinks that it would never wear off. She cherished it.

The gate had opened without needing a code, so they most definitely knew she was here. It’s a good thing she had prepared gifts in advance. Dodging Gothamites as they drove and jaywalked had been a rather unforeseen ordeal that she was not looking forward to repeating.

She rolled to a smooth stop at the front doors, giving the intricately carved oak doors a passing glance. She huffed a laugh as she saw Damian, flanked by Bruce Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth, staring proudly outside at the front door. They’re anticipatory of her arrival. Warmth spread through her heart, and for the first time in a long while, it wasn’t the heat of rage.

She opened the doors with a quiet click and hiss, stepping out onto the heated paved driveway, and closed the door. At the steps, the two older men had frozen but Damian had come walking quickly towards her.

“Damian,” she whispered as he came near her, suffusing as much fondness as she could into his name. Her little brother all but sprinted towards her, screeching to a stop in front of her with excited eyes.

“Welcome to Wayne Manor, ukhti.” He said formally. Her eyes softened and she pulled him into a hug.

(yā waṭawāṭī alṣṣḡīr is the phonetic spelling.) ("وطواطي الصغير" is the actual spelling. I think.)

“I have missed you, ya wat-wat alssgirr,” she whispered. The familiar endearment, “my little bat,” rung warmly like a warm crease ruffling his hair. The silks of her clothes and the ever present warm sand and candle scent wrapped around him like a hug… like the hug she was currently giving him.

(Her clothes were in blues and silvers. It suited her, she who had been forced in green and golds and cuts of black.)

“I still can not believe you all but told me who father was and I still could not figure it out until mother told me.”

She pulled back. ‘Damian, you were five.’

“I have little doubt you were smarter at my age, ukhti, so do not lie to me.” Damian grumbled. Nevertheless, he stepped back.

‘No, you were smarter.’

And to her, he was. It’s not like Damian had the edge she did, and he wasn’t the one trapped for twenty something years. She had foolishly thought that Ra’s wouldn’t dare to harm her too much, seeing as she was his blood, but Damian knew from day 1. She made sure he did. If she was half as smart as Damian, she would have bent her knee and obeyed, no matter how she felt about killing. She would have taken warning Ra’s issued and soaked in the poisonous praise to bide her time to escape. She could not- she did not- do what Damian found effortless, and paid the price for it.

“Unlikely,” Damian said, turning around fully, but she could see the tips of her brother’s ears burning. Ah, perhaps she had been to stingy with compliments if he was shy hearing a mild one, sincere as it might have been. “This is Alfred Pennyworth. He is the butler, and an integral part of the family.”

Damian glanced at her, taking in her suddenly impassive face, and nods. Good. His attitude towards Pennyworth when he first arrived was… mildly shameful. His ukhti was smart enough to know that and therefore he won the argument.

On her part, the reincarnation followed along like she hadn’t mildly stalked this family for decades. It was nice to see excitement rearing on her brother’s face. It was rare in the league and Gotham’s gloom had ironically cheered him up far more than the suns of desserts ever did. She nodded at Alfred Pennyworth, who had admirably recovered from his earlier shock.

“And this is… Bruce Wayne. Our father.”

She tucked a strand of curled hair back, impassive blue eyes meeting her… father’s.

She offered him a short nod.

——

“My word,” Alfred Pennyworth muttered as his charge’s (his son’s) daughter step out of the car. Her steps were silent, graceful, and lighter than a gazelle.

The way she moved, even as she hugged young master Damian, whispered of leashed lethality and treacherous waters. She moved like if grace had a form and Alfred was willing to bet his entire career that not an iota of air got close to her without her knowledge of it, and it reminded the aging man of the young Miss Cassandra. He knew then, that she could have pretended to be unassuming and that he would have had a hard time equating her with danger. That she showed them her potential for death was a sign of trust.

But it was not the way she claimed death as her own name that caught the former spy’s attention.

No.

It was her blue eyes and the way they ever so slightly crinkled fondly as she laid eyes upon her younger brother. It was the way her hair, curled in a nostalgic style, that curtained her face as she spoke to the young Wayne heir, though he could not hear her voice. It was the way that she tucked Damian against her side, protective but encouraging.

It was the way that she, despite Talia al Ghul’s features, resembled his dearest friend, Martha Wayne, in her every movement.

Alfred Pennyworth felt like he was decades younger, standing before Martha as she fondly tucked Bruce against her side and successfully needled Thomas into going to see Bruce’s favorite movie.

It felt like he had his best friend once more, just a little.

From the way Master Bruce stared, it seemed as though he thought the same.

Alfred straightened when young master Damian introduced him. He was the Wayne Family Butler. And she was definitely a Wayne.

Master Bruce stood there like a lout as his daughter greeted him. Alfred shot him a scathing look- he had taught Master Bruce much better manners than to gape, the nerve!- before smoothly directing the attention away. His hands moved as he spoke.

“Welcome to Wayne Manor, Miss-”

She made a sharp motion to cut him off and signed something. Alfred might be a tad rusty in Arabic sign language (like he and the rest of the family hadn’t spent the last two weeks frantically memorizing and brushing up on their sign language) but he knew a name sign when he saw one.

“al Ghul.” Damian recognized. He did not use regular Arabic Sign Language with her often, vastly preferring their own established sign, but that did not mean he slacked. “You may call her al-Ghul.”

‘Or nothing at all,’ Damian’s sister signed. She looked at him like she was waiting. A test, Alfred realized.

Alfred pushed the slight twinge of disheartening disappointment away. He had wanted to call her Miss Wayne, to perhaps indulge in a bit of nostalgia for a while longer. But he shan’t do it at the expense of his charge.

“Miss al Ghul,” he continued, not missing a beat, imitating the name sign with pin point accuracy. She lifted her chin. Alfred sighed in relief. He passed. And now, perhaps he should revive Ra’s al Ghul and have a nice, entirely civil conversation about Miss al Ghul’s expectation that her wishes would go ignored.

Alfred will bring his shotguns and most likely would abandon pretenses as soon as that old goat got into his crosshairs. Old as he might be, he was still a very good shot, and civility was reserved for those with honor.

“Please head inside. I am sure young master Damian would love to guide you on a tour,” Alfred continued like he didn’t think of violent second deaths for Ra’s al Ghul. “Perhaps Master Bruce will join you, if you are amendable, once he has managed to stop imitating the rather life like form of a smooth brained sloth.”

Alfred congratulated himself on the small crinkle of humor that graced Miss al Ghul’s otherwise expressionless face. Well, expressionless to those that did not know where to look. Fortunately, Alfred and the rest of the family were used to stoic caveman micro expressions, courtesy of Bruce, and therefore it would not be much of a problem.

“I will bring your bags up to your room.”

She scrutinized him and then dipped her head.

‘Be careful. There are dangerous things in there.’

“I assure you the utmost privacy in regards to your belongings,” Alfred said.

“Pennyworth will not peruse your belongings, ukhti. He has more honor and respect than that.”

Alfred would like to interrogate Talia al Ghul to see who he must introduce some lead to, that clearly disrespected Miss al Ghul’s privacy like so. But for now, he will bask in the warmth of young master Damian’s implicit trust.

Miss al Ghul nodded. She opened the trunk of the car- the interior of which Alfred could now perceive to be entirely customized and of extremely quality material. She handed the keys and gave him access to her luggage. Then, placing her hand at young master Damian’s shoulder, followed the young master into the halls where she ought to have been raised. Or, at the very least, ought to have taken a step in at least once before today.

Master Bruce lingered at the doorway, torn between following the siblings and helping Alfred with the luggage (read: running away.)

“The daylight is wasting, Master Bruce.”

Master Bruce skittered in behind them like a newborn colt, wobbling and anxious.

Well, it’s time for Alfred to do his job. There was only a single duffle bag.

Hm. He’ll have to tell Master Bruce to take her out for necessities. He hardly doubted that a single bag could last her very long. And Alfred Pennyworth was hellbent on convincing his granddaughter to stay, may the gods have mercy on whichever poor soul that tried to convince her otherwise for he won’t.

——

She followed Damian as he led her deeper within the walls of a home she knew by heart from afar. She was like the little photographer in that way. Bruce Wayne trailed behind them like a particularly awkward ghoul, and she found it amusing to equate this turtle necked man was the illustrious Dark Knight. How dangerous.

“This is the first parlor. It is for guests of the… regular persuasion.”

Ah, for the civilians. She nodded.

“Ah, the silverware was selected by Alfred.” Bruce interjected, gesturing to the display silverware by the door. Their cabinets were intricate without taking away from the paintings upon the delicate ceramic.

She looked at him, wondering why he was following before giving up and nodding. It was his house.

(Bruce, for his part, felt like his daughter had laid judgement upon him… and found him lacking.)

‘It is… adequate.’ She sighed to Damian. Damian tutted.

“It’s fine to say quaint, sister. It could hardly compare to the palace.”

Bruce jolted, plans for converting the manor into a palace already in the making.

No, he couldn’t. Alfred would murder him with his favorite dish.

‘I like it, even if it is smaller.’

“….you do?”

‘You are happy here. It is warm to you. I like it.’ She repeated.

Damian latched onto her sleeve. “I- I shall show you my art. And then introduce you to the rest of the bumbling fools we have for brothers-”

She tilted her head. Bruce paused as well when Damian’s words cut off.

“If… you want them as brothers. It would be… helpful, to integrate.”

She waited.

“But… I am the first. Your blood. And-”

‘I will make room in my heart for them, if you wish it. I already know some of them.’ She allowed a small smile to show. ‘But that does not mean you will ever lose your place, little bat.’

Damian felt extremely thankful that father had not managed to pick up their version of sign language yet.

“Well… as long as you’re aware.” He marched further into the manor. She followed, once more, a look of fond indulgence gleaming in her eyes.

——

She stood in front of a painting her younger brother had done.

‘I made it two weeks ago,’ he’d told her, fingers curled into her palm.

It was green. She hated green. And gold. And ominous. Rage. Harsh, bold strokes and spots where the texture of the canvas were either globbed over or painfully showing through.

Her hands traced the single stroke of blue amidst the turbulence of green.

She tucked Damian against her side and realized that perhaps he understood after all, what it felt like. Perhaps not all of it, but enough.

——

“Here is your room, ukhti.” Damian stood watch as his sister scanned the room. She quickly removed three listening devices as Damian sighed.

‘You’ve gotten better.’ She crossed the room and plucked the listening bug from its place on the door frame.

“Clearly not good enough.” Damian huffed. “But I have beaten your knife game record. What do you think of the room?”

His sister rolled her eyes and handed him a blade she pulled from somewhere on her person.

An implicit challenge.

“No cutting your fingers off, please.” Father interceded.

“Begone, father. We are doing sibling bonding, something I remember you insisting that I participate in.”

Damian shut the door on his stupefied face, matching his sister’s sharp smirk as he splayed his hand on the dresser and raised the blade.

——

Alfred walked in with a covered plate and paused at the sight of the dresser.

Then, he looked on as Damian sat at the desk, rapidly signing to his sister in their own version of the language as said sister pulled out an entire wardrobe and a half to fill in the walk-in closet.

Alfred made a note to study some more magic.

“Miss al-Ghul. I bring you a snack that young master Damian made and to inform you that the others will be arrive en masse, within an hour.” Alfred paused. “Might I interest you in a mat before the two of you decide to… take a gander at furniture redecoration in the future?”

“Of course, Pennyworth. Apologies.”

“I’ll try to make sure they won’t overwhelm you. They can be a lot, at once.” Bruce said from the doorway. Miss al Ghul glanced at him and dipped her head in thanks. Her eyes wandered right back to the dessert.

Alfred made another note.

‘You made this for me?’ She asked, switching to standard.

Damian grumbled. “Do not eat it. I could not get the spice quite right, no matter how many variations…”

‘I am sure it will be good.’ She took the plate from Alfred’s hand and uncovered it.

They all had the fortune of witnessing a true, genuine wide eyed smile from a stoic face.

Alfred inhaled sharply. He had thought Master Bruce and young master Damian had inherited Thomas’ dimples. But she had inherited his entire smile.

‘Bstilla!’ She turned to Damian. ‘My favorite! You made this?’

“I know that. I am not incompetent as to not notice when you snuck three of them from the palace kitchens. You must give me the recipe from the cooks. I could not get it to taste like the spices they used. I even imported spices!”

Miss al-Ghul, like she had forgotten he and Master Bruce were there, stabbed a fork into the pie and put it into her mouth.

“Ukhti! Don’t- do not eat that! Spit it out! The pastry is too thick and-”

She held up her hand. ‘It’s good. I know what it is missing.’

She strode to her magic bag and pulled out a bottle.

She sprinkled flakes on top and offered a forkful of b’stilla to the young master who, shockingly, did not insist on his own utensil.

His expression lightened. “This is it. What is it? You know of the chefs’ methods?”

She sprinkled the mysterious spice on the food. ‘You’ve never eaten anything the chefs have made. I made your food by hand to prevent assassinations and inoculate you against toxins. Also, this is poison.’

Alfred stiffened.

“It’s what?!” Bruce spoke up, rushing into the room, finally to try and look Damian over.

‘It is fine. He has been immune since he was three.’

Miss al Ghul placed a piece of poisoned b’stilla in her mouth and ate. Young master Damian batted his father off, saying that poison inoculation was hardly a surprise. What was a surprise, though, was something else.

“That is- you- you’re the one who made my meals?” Young Master Damian demanded, looking guilty. “But- I- why did you not tell me? I made all of those demands in the middle of the night- what about the time I sent back the knafe fifteen times?”

She nodded.

“Why would you- why did you not tell me?”

‘You knew what grandfather thought of women. And besides, it was the only time I was allowed sweets. He did not want me to ruin my figure as it would lower my marketability.’

Alfred itched for his gun.

“You are not a commodity,” Master Bruce stated, intense as he tended to be. Miss al Ghul blinked at him.

‘… I am aware. But… thank you.’

“Ah. Yes. Of course.” And there went the emotionally intelligent Master Bruce. May he rest in peace until the next time he decides to make an appearance.

“I believe today is a chocolate chip cookie day, do you not, young master Damian?”

“Yes, Pennyworth, I believe it is.”

‘I have never tried it before.’

“You will love it. Pennyworth’s cookies are the best in the world, as is expected.”

Alfred watched as young master Damian tugged his sister out and marveled. The sides of his grandson they rarely get to see was so easily pulled out by his older sister.

——

Y’all I wanted to write her meeting the siblings but Alfred came out of no where and went haha nope feel the angst of a man who lost his best friend and had to raise her vigilante child.

Alfred, seeing Bruce put on the bat cowl for the first time: martha, why have you forsaken me

——

Me: what would baby assassins play as a binding game?

Me, remembering my past as a kid: I Spy, but with trackers and bugs. oh wait… THE KNIFE GOES CHOP CHOP CHOP

——

Also, I think B’stilla was food meant only for royalty and was probably rooted in slavery, so I thought it would be a meaningful nod to her position of privilege and how she are like a king but was treated as a… bed warmer and a slave. Yeah. If anyone knowledgeable on food history wants to school me on b’stilla, feel free to do so. I did like, a cursory research at best.

#Bruce Wayne #Bruce Wayne’s guilt complex #Bruce ‘everything is my fault’ Wayne #no Bruce not everything in fact is about you bby #ras al ghul #Ra’s was a jackass long before you were born #oc in dc #batman #tim drake #damian wayne’s older sister #damian wayne #Bruce took his guil and fucking sprinted with it #he’s also making a lot of (very fair considering the circumstances) assumptions about oc #did I write that entire first part so I could make Alfred quote a poem? #yes yes I did #technically it’s also a part of a Kanye west song or whatever #oc: my brother is so cute look he’s so excited to see me #everyone else: what? hes walking so elegantly and calmly??? #sleep deprived me did not do the difference between habibi and habibti #Alfred Pennyworth #Alfred Pennyworth was besties with Martha Wayne #Martha Wayne coming back to haunt the Waynes via her granddaughter #Alfred calling Ra’s and honorless goat #a couple thousand words of Alfred being sassy

[epiclamer]

Sitting on the hard concrete floor of a jail cell with a singular water bottle was not exactly Hero’s ideal way to spend their Friday night. Not that they really had a choice during a kidnapping, but they sure as hell wished they could’ve at least fought off their attacker.

Instead, the bugger had drugged them out of their mind with a few roofies in their evening coffee and dragged them back to their holding cell. At least that’s how the hero was envisioning the last few hours since their brain was pulling a complete blank.

“Ah, Hero… Finally awake, hm?”

The crime-stopper looked up from their position on the floor, eyes darting around the dark room until they could spot a silhouette in the back, far off from the bars that contained them. It took a good few seconds of processing and a couple squints for the hero to make out that their kidnapper was in fact their one and only nemesis; Villain.

At once, the hero’s anxiety lifted and their stomach twisted. Villain was a good sign, the two of them had been fighting for months now and had somewhat grown fond of each other after sharing a few rather… intimate moments.

However.

Villain was also a pain in Hero’s ass. All of their stunts brought on loads of paperwork and a heartache Hero couldn’t afford to call in sick to handle.

“L-Lucky me, huh?” They cleared their throat, taking another swig from the now half-empty water bottle they had been ‘generously’ left with. “Were you worried about me, darling?” They purred, winking with a confidence they truly lacked in this situation.

The villain scoffed, coming forwards out of the shadows as they stalked toward the hero’s prison. “Actually, yes.”

Their boots reached right before the cell bars, too close to be considered an enemy to the hero, yet too far to be considered a friend.

Slowly but surely, Hero pulled themselves to their feet, using the bars to help support their swaying weight, until they could look the villain straight in the eyes. “Is that so? Put a bit too much sedative in my coffee? Worried it might slow my heart all the way to a stop?” They punctuated their last word with a jab to the villain’s breastplate right where their heart lay.

The villain didn’t react. “Well excuse me if I get my dosage wrong when I try to mix a muscle relaxant into a brain stimulant.”

They both shared a small smirk, neither of them shared the same feeling behind it. Villain’s was conniving, Hero’s was cheeky.

“Oh poor Villain, hm? Next time tell me before you kidnap me that way I can buy a water bottle instead.”

Villain snorted, glancing over the hero’s appearance quickly before locking eyes with them once more. “I would’ve, and I will for next time. But today the occasion is a little different.”

It was crazy how fast the hero’s heart could lurch into their throat.

“How so?”

“Supervillain wants to see you.”

“What for.”

The criminal took a breath, probably able to smell the fear seeping from the hero’s pores all of a sudden and desperate for a simpler way to put what they were about to say next.

“It’s their birthday—”

“You’re gifting me to Supervillain!?”

The villain looked a little sheepish now, though not at all remorseful. “They’ve offered me a sector of their territory—it’s quite large really—in return for a day with the city’s saviour.”

Everything came crashing down onto the hero, all of their previous relief towards seeing the villain had vanished. What was left of their flirty behaviour and composure was long gone. They were going to be sick.

Sick or maybe they would just pass out, or black out and kill the villain in a violent stupor; they hadn’t decided yet.

“L-Let me get this straight.” Hero smoothed a hand through their suddenly sweaty hair. “Supervillain offered you a chunk of their made-up criminal territories, if you could deliver me firsthand in time for their birthday.”

“They said they would return you in one piece to the Agency, if that helps?”

Hero was definitely going to throw up. A whole day with the Supervillain? They were done for. “You mean return my dead body in one piece.”

Villain was definitely paler—as if the true outcome of their actions was just being realized—but hardly as panicked as the hero was. “Supervillain promised they wouldn’t hu—”

“Do you trust Supervillain.”

With wide eyes the villain blinked at the panicking hero and the crime-stopper could already tell the answer, but they wanted to hear it. Hero knew that Villain had gone through rigorous conditioning with Supervillain for years before they met the hero, but somehow they had thought they were finally getting through that shell and into the real Villain’s heart.

“Villain. Do you trust Supervillain.”

The criminal’s features darkened, body language shifting towards increasingly uncomfortable. They nodded—almost robotically.

“Supervillain knows what’s best for me—what’s best for all of us.”

Hero’s heart sank.

#previously tortured villain anyone??? #will they truly turn the hero in?!? #perhaps #we may never know… #hero x villain #villain #villain x hero #hero #drabbles #fantasy #imagines #scenarios #hero and villain #villain and hero #heroes #villains #heroes x villains #villains x heroes #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #whump #kidnapping #whumpee #whumper #supervillain whumper #hero whumpee #hero whump #villain whump #villain whumpee #conditioning

[futurequibblerjournalist]

@rosekillermicrofic // may 1st - rose // word count: 471

Barty grinned as he leaned back in the director’s chair. Not much could be considered comfortable in the setup, not with the bright lights pointing at him and cameras waiting to catch and broadcast every cheeky word that left his mouth. 

Most people would have likely felt uncomfortable—if for no other reason then because of the chair he was sitting on. Barty on the other hand was grinning from ear to ear, his legs crossed and his elbow propped up on his knee so he could lean his head on his hand.

“So, it’s quite a getup you get into for this movie, isn’t it?” Rita continued, correcting a tight blonde curl as she glanced at her prompt cards. “It’s of course nothing new to see you with tattoos, we all know you’ve got a good handful of your own.” 

Barty let out a chuckle, his hands running briefly over his decorated arms.

“I hardly know what you mean,” he teased. 

“Mhm, well, a lot of your fans seemed to notice a.. new addition to the rest? Someone online had a theory you just got fond of it while filming.” As Rita spoke she motioned a long, manicured finger towards Barty’s neck.

Mostly untouched except for the beginning curl of a snake that stretched across part of his chest and around his arm, the skin was now decorated with a delicate rose with thorns and leafs poking out from the stem. 

Barty’s expression softened briefly as he sat up properly, bringing a hand to the spot.

“Ah, nothing really gets past them, does it?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. “Well, as fun of a theory as that is, this is entirely on purpose.” He moved his hand and exposed the tattoo again. 

“Is there a meaning behind it?” 

Barty licked his teeth under his lips before exposing his teeth. “It’s a dedication, actually. To someone special. My very own Rose,” he explained, staring directly into the camera as he spoke. He lifted a hand and waved. “Hiya, Rosie.” 

Evan stared blankly at the screen, his grasp on the remote tightening. His face felt warm and yet at the same time his stomach curled. Not only did Barty get a tattoo for him—Evan already knew of it, of course, the man had run along and shown him the second it was done—but now he’d exposed their relationship, or at least parts of it, on live television. 

He let out a breath. Part of it was exciting. A secret but not quite a secret. Barty was his, he belonged to someone and that someone was Evan. And now everyone knew it. Rubbing his face he let out another breath. Leave it to Barty Crouch fucking Junior to make Evan feel all over the place yet again.

Fucking typical. 

#marauders era #marauders #rosekiller #hp marauders #hp #barty crouch jr #barty crouch junior #evan rosier #microfiction #rosekiller microfic #microfic #futurequibblerjournalist writing

[we-stan-cale]

I wanted to talk about the side stories

Because @ladyteldra and I got some thoughts I'm incorporating in a fic. We might have thrown some of them out before?

Anyways

His Company (with a capital 'C', it's so well known it's just called The Company) does this

a third organization separate from guilds and the government, the company mediated any issues between the two other organizations in addition to taking care of monster invasions, guild inspections, and government audits among many other things.

His team seriously thought assassins might kidnap him

“…Do you think one of the illegal guilds attacked the team leader-nim’s house?” Agent Jung So Hoon’s voice was slightly shaking from anxiety. “Or maybe an assassin dispatched from overseas abducted the team leader-nim. Ah, I have a bad feeling about this. Doesn’t the team leader-nim live in the outskirts of the city? I’m sure the security there isn’t good either. Should I contact the Team 2 leader?” “Calm down. We will decide after going to the team leader-nim’s house.”

He's low key famous

Kim Rok Soo was quite famous not just in the company, but also throughout the industry and with the government and guilds. Although he had not known the name because this person doesn’t show himself in the media, he was the leader of Team 1, the greatest force in the company, as well as implicitly the leader of the company’s battle agents in the ‘Body.’ Furthermore, even the people in charge of the ‘Head’ were said to be unable to hold in their admiration at Kim Rok Soo’s abilities.

He had 0 mortality, always had a thorough plan, and really helped develop his people's talents

Team 1’s mortality rate was 0% since Kim Rok Soo became team leader. They had also not failed any of the missions they were assigned. Kim Rok Soo was said to come up with a thorough plan and complete the mission under any and all circumstances, even if he was lacking the resources to do so. Furthermore, many people’s abilities developed even further when they were in his team.

His team constantly worried about him

“Now I won’t need to worry about him dying!” His seniors showed their agreement at Agent Cha’s comments and smiles appeared on their faces.

Again a comment on the low casualty rate under his leadership, but also (from someone early after he took over as team leader)

There had been no deaths nor serious injuries on Team 1 since Kim Rok Soo became team leader. Although there were people who received minor injuries, nobody ever had to be hospitalized for longer than a few days because of a serious injury. Instead, the number of scars on Kim Rok Soo’s body continued to increase.

He probably got Instant around then? And was probably overdoing it already.

Choi Han, after getting Choi Jung Soo's memories, said he was able to realize Cale was Kim Rok Soo partly because he acted exactly the same.

So basically, we can picture Cale's time as team leader as, probably, him being exactly the same. Taking risks, overdoing it... But mostly in fighting monsters, doing government audits, and dealing with illegal guilds.

Also, again, he's famous.

And foreign governments may want to kidnap him.

We also know he studied monsters extensively, aided by Record no doubt, so I posit that he's probably the expert on monsters.

Which might be why they want to kidnap him? Not kill...kidnap. He's probably considered, like, a strategic resource or something

#tcf #lcf #trash of the count's family #cale henituse #lout of the count’s family

[aerahyasashi]

𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

“𝐁𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐅𝐎𝐑”

[ SYPNOSIS ] In which, you, a workaholic grade A detective has been investigating about multiple murder cases, found out that your boyfriend has been seeing your best friend behind your back. And due to your anger, you accidentally wished for your ex boyfriend and ex best friend to die—and they did end up dying. her boyfriend and best friend was found dead and brutally killed. and the person who did it was the same serial killer she was looking for, and no matter what her wish is, he ends up granting it in the most twisted way possible

[ WARNINGS ] Infidelity, Death, Yandere Behaviors (duh) Other triggering stuff.

[ PAIRINGS ] Yandere! Eyeless Jack x Fem! Detective! Reader

[ NOTE ] Hearts and Reblogs are greatly appreciated<3.

[ MASTERLIST ]

TAKING OUT A PICTURE of someone who was reported missing from your briefcase, you smoothly placed it on the table. With a quick movement, you grabbed a red marker from your briefcase and decisively drew a bold ‘x’ across the person’s face.

“Another missing person that got killed,”   You let out a weary sigh as your eyes remained focused on Jhenicca, your closest confidant and fellow detective.   Both of you were dedicated to solving crimes together, forming an inseparable partnership in the field.   However, it was important to note that you held a higher rank and possessed more experience in comparison to your junior colleague, Jhenicca.

Jhenicca’s brows creased as her emerald green eyes bore into your [E/c] ones.

 “Seriously? Another one?”

Jhenicca let out a deep, anguished groan expressing her displeasure at the fact that an increasing number of individuals were disappearing, only to be discovered lifeless later on.

“Yeah, seriously.” You uttered those words, your face devoid of any emotion.

“Ah, well, it doesn't really matter anyway.”  Jhenicca uttered in a low voice, her eyes wandering aimlessly, diverting her attention from yours.

“Just give the damn information, [N/n]” Jhenicca asked for the necessary information and specifics during your conversation. You set the red marker down, signaling the start of a conversation that was about to take a somber turn.  

“The victim was named Katarina Smith. She vanished four days ago after entering a forrest. Her lifeless body was discovered in an abandoned building inside the forrest,"

You revealed the information.   As an exceptional and highly skilled investigator, you were entrusted with leading the inquiry into the mysterious disappearances, wherein the victims were consistently discovered with horrifying injuries or their vital organs, such as the kidneys, inexplicably gone.  This disturbing pattern of events has persisted over the course of the last four months, leaving you feeling increasingly weary and overwhelmed due to the sheer volume of cases being assigned to you.  

“We can go to the crime scene later and look for some evidence.”

You suggested and jhenicca nodded solemnly.

“So what do we know about the previous victims?” Jhenicca questioned you as her brows knitted, obviously disturbed.

You reached into your briefcase once again and pulled out a file containing the information you had gathered so far.

“There have been fifteen victims before Katarina,”

You began, flipping through the pages. “All of them went missing under similar circumstances—last seen entering a forrest, and then found dead on different sides of the Forrest.”

“Fifteen.”

Jhenicca breathed out and slammed her fist on your table, creating a loud banging sound and you sighed in exasperation, placing your hand on your forehead as your brows creased and your jaw locked.

“I know, i know.”

You mumbled, exasperated.

“Fifteen fucking people have been going missing for about 4 months now and we still can’t fucking get a single trace or clue about the perpetrator!”

Jhennica’s  seethed with anger, clearly expressing her deep disappointment regarding the sluggishness of your progress.   However, it is hard to deny her feelings, as you yourself are also disappointed with the current situation.  

“Calm down.”

You tried to calm her down.

“What do you mean calm down?”

Jhenicca glared at you, running a hand through her blond locks.

“[Name]! We can’t go around relaxing when people are going missing and dying!”

Jhenicca exclaimed, causing you to feel increasingly frustrated.   However, despite your annoyance, you made an effort to maintain your composure. Deep down, you acknowledged that Jhenicca had a valid point. It wasn’t as if you were idly lounging around; in reality, you had been pushing yourself to the limit, tirelessly working nonstop in order to achieve any sort of progress—And you were tired, so fucking tired.

Feeling overwhelmed and frustrated, you let out a heavy sigh, massaging your temples with your fingertips to alleviate the mounting tension.

“I know, i know” You spoke incoherently and indistinctly, barely making any audible sounds.  “However, it is essential for you to regain composure initially, for it will enable us to thoroughly evaluate the circumstances at hand and make an accurate assessment."”

With a slightly narrowed gaze and furrowed brows, you expressed to her, causing Jhenicca to let out an exasperated huff and divert her gaze from you.

“Calm down my ass,”

She mumbles.

You experienced a sudden involuntary contraction in your eye, causing it to twitch.

“Cease behaving in such an immature and obstinate manner, don’t be a fucking brat”  Feeling exasperated by her obnoxious behavior, you let out a disapproving sound while your level of professionalism momentarily dissipates. Jhenicca, in response, disdainfully looks away, disregarding your reaction.

“Fuck you.”

She glared at you.

“Fuck you too.”

Jhenicca releases a sarcastic laugh, displaying her annoyance towards the unexpected and abrupt eruption of emotions from you.

“Okay, whatever, but we still need to find any pattern or connection between these victims,”

Jhenicca made a suggestion, her voice hinting at a lingering annoyance. In response, you scornfully chuckled, casting your gaze downwards.

Taking a moment to collect yourself, you took in a deep breath before quietly uttering a small apology for your earlier outburst.

However, Jhenicca breezed past your apology, choosing to disregard it completely as she proceeded with her speech.

“Do you think it could provide us with valuable clues regarding the murderer's identity?   Is there anything notable connecting all of the victims that you've observed?” she asked.

Once you regained a sense of inner tranquility, you visibly expressed your agreement by giving a reassuring nod. Resting your hand gently upon your chin, you directed your gaze towards Jhenicca, deep in thought.

“The victims share several similarities among themselves.   Firstly, they all belong to the young adult age group, specifically individuals in their twenties. Secondly, they had a common habit of visiting and spending time in the same forest.   Lastly, their disappearances occurred exclusively during the weekends, further emphasizing this pattern of occurrence.” You provided a clear explanation.

“Based on the autopsy reports, it seems that their kidneys were removed post-mortem, suggesting a potential organ trafficking angle. However, the brutality of the killings indicates a possibly cannibalistic tendencies as well.”

You have provided an explanation regarding the reason behind those individuals having their organs removed. It is feasible to consider the possibility of a cannibal being involved, particularly since you had previously delved into the topic through various cannibal documentaries during your college years.  

“We need to gather more evidence and dig deeper into the victims' backgrounds.”

You said, tapping on your chin.

“We need to find any connections they might have had, both among themselves and with potential suspects. We’ll also increase surveillance on houses that are close in that forrest, for they frequented in the hope of catching any suspicious activities.”

You informed and you were taken aback when, out of nowhere, the entrance to your workspace abruptly swung ajar, unveiling the presence of your beloved partner, Earl.

Earl is also a skilled investigator who happens to be employed within the same institution as you. He had a pile of papers held in one hand while balancing some cups of refreshing iced coffee in his other hand.

“Good morning, Love”he greeted with a pleasant tone, his words carrying warmth and friendliness.   With a gleeful expression, he curved his lips upward, directing his gaze towards Jhenicca with the intention of acknowledging her presence as he nodded approvingly.

“Good morning to you too!”Jhenicca extended a warm welcome.   You let out a frustrated breath and directed your gaze towards Earl.

“Kindly knock on the door to gain permission before stepping inside the room.” Shaking your head in dismay, you expressed your disapproval through scolding, while Earl nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders, revealing his indifference.  

“* apologize for the interruption, but I have something of utmost significance to share,” your partner apologized politely, presenting you with a substantial collection of documents and carefully arranging them on the surface of your desk.

“Really?”  Jhenicca’s eyelids fluttered momentarily, as a reflexive response to stimuli.   

“What is the matter?”

You inquired, fixating your gaze directly into the deep, mahogany irises of Earl.

“There has been an increase in the number of individuals who have disappeared, and upon closer examination, it is evident that the specifics align with the characteristics observed in the previous instances.”

 As your eyes briefly skimmed across the pile of documents placed right in front of you, a complex blend of unease and exasperation manifested on your face.

The news you were presently receiving was far from ideal, pushing against your desire for a different outcome, particularly since you and your diligent team had invested an immense amount of time and effort into probing the perplexing string of disappearances that had preceded this moment.   Jhenicca, noticing the identical emotional response on her own countenance, mirrored your sentiments precisely upon digesting the given information.

“Anyways, i brought some coffee for you, love,”  As you observed, Earl gently placed the refreshing iced coffee onto your desk, and a sense of appreciation washed over you, causing a grateful smile to adorn your face while simultaneously feeling a soothing wave of relaxation engulfing your being.

“Thanks love—”

You initiated speaking, however, Jhenicca interjected, causing you to immediately cease speaking and keeping your lips sealed.

“No coffee for me? I’m feeling left out you know?”   Jhenicca’s eyebrow arched in amusement as she voiced her playful disappointment regarding the lack of coffee being offered to her. As you observed the situation, a flicker of surprise crossed your face, signaling that you were starting to grasp the peculiarly close bond between Jhenicca and your boyfriend. A peculiar sense of discomfort started to take hold of you, yet you struggled to identify the exact source of this unease. 

‘Since where were they this close?’

You pondered quietly as you watched the two interact.

Earl couldn’t help but chuckle in response to Jhenicca’s witty remark, as he placed yet another refreshing iced coffee on the desk, hoping to soothe her slight disappointment expressed through her adorable pouting expression.

With a wide smile, he uttered,

“Here, don’t sulk.” Jhenicca beamed with happiness as she conveyed her appreciation. Earl emitted a light-hearted laughter, brushing off the situation, which left you with an indescribable sense of being left out, lingering persistently within you.   Earl comfortably took his place on the nearby chair, gently resting his head on your shoulder as he curiously asked,

“Anyway, love, Can you provide an update on the current status of the situation?   Have there been any advancements in identifying and apprehending the person responsible for the incident?”

He asked and as you were preparing to articulate a response, Jhenicca abruptly interjected once more, causing a subtle expression of displeasure to form on your face.   It became increasingly apparent that since Earl’s arrival, Jhenicca had consistently been interrupting your attempts to contribute to the conversation.  

“Welllll”

Jhenicca said, making sure to stretch the word.

“Nope!”

Jhenicca’s wide grin appeared on her face, attempting to portray an endearing demeanor that caused you to cringe internally; she resembled someone who was seeking attention—a fucking pick me.

It would have been more appropriate for her to exhibit a serious demeanor, considering the gravity of the topic at hand.   It perplexed you how she could switch from being angered to acting as cheerful as a ray of sunshine. The sudden shift in her behavior left you contemplating whether to request her to remain silent and allow you to express yourself, but you opted to restrain from doing so.  

“Unfortunately, we’ve been giving it our all, but we haven’t found any leads,”

You finally explained with a sigh and Earl frowned once he heard that information, he felt disappointed.

You then took a deep breath.

“However, I do have a theory. It’s possible that the serial killer is also a cannibal.”

Earl blinked in disbelief, but he considered the idea.

“Really? That’s quite an unexpected twist.”

Before you could elaborate and explain all the details about your theory, jhenicca interjected once more so you just chose to remain silent, a tinge of annoyance crossed your expression but it quickly disappeared.

“I agree! I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

Jhenicca said.

“Ah right! Do you know that there are similarities between the victims?”

Jhenicca began to converse with your boyfriend and as you sipped on your refreshing iced coffee, Earl glanced in your direction, expressing his acknowledgement through a subtle nod.  Soon after, the two individuals initiated a conversation which took a meandering path, encompassing diverse topics.

However, a significant portion of their discussion revolved around the various homicide cases you had been diligently investigating.  As you attentively observed Jhenicca and Earl engrossed in their dialogue, it became apparent that a strong connection existed between them.   Unexpectedly, the serenity of the moment was abruptly disturbed by the sound of your phone ringing, breaking the tranquility in the air.    Jhenicca’s eyes blinked, briefly closing and opening again.  

“I thought you had your phone on do not disturb?”Jhenicca inquired, and you shook your head.

“Not quite. As a detective, every call or text holds significance, you should be aware of that,” you responded, slightly exasperated. Setting your coffee aside, you retrieved your phone from your pocket, and your eyes widened as you read the message. your eyes suddenly lit up and a faint smile made its way to your face.

Finally, an evidence, after four fucking months, there was finally an evidence.

“Ouch, so harsh.”

Jhenicca's expression turned into a pout at your stern words.

Your eye twitched in annoyance, caused by the tone she adopted. Normally, she spoke to you in a different manner, but this time it was almost childlike, which bothered you without any clear explanation as to why she was behaving that way.  

Earl curiously asked, “Who is it?”

“It’s the headquarters. They’ve discovered some evidence at the crime scene,” you informed, and Earl hummed thoughtfully.

“That’s wonderful.”

Earl said with a smile.

“Really? That’s an excellent news!” Jhenicca beamed

“Yes, I’m glad too”

You replied with a closed eyed smile

Then suddenly, a  phone call interrupted,you looked at your phone to see who called and it was the headquarters, perhaps they had something important to say and you couldn’t risk missing it.

 “The headquarters is on the line,” you  announced.

“Oh.”

Earl seemed disappointed since he wanted to talk to you more while jhenicca didn't have a reaction.

“I need to have a private conversation with them, so I’ll leave you two here,” you informed, gently shifting Earl’s head from your shoulder before standing up.

You planted a tender kiss on Earl's cheek, eliciting a smile from him.

“I won’t take long, don’t worry.”

You reassured him because you saw his disappointed face and Earl’s face lit up from your words.

“Alright, Stay safe,” Earl said, returning your smile as you made your way towards the office exit.

However, from the corner of your eye, you caught Earl discreetly wiping off the kiss, causing a frown to form on your face. And the way Jhenicca glanced at your boyfriend was different, stirring a sense of unease within you.

Your intuition was telling you that something was wrong.

Tension pervaded the atmosphere within your office, akin to an unuttered secret that lingered ever since your departure to answer the call from the headquarters. Earl’s face carried the weight of guilt, mirroring the guilty conscience that resided within him, while Jhenicca appeared unbothered, portraying an effortless and carefree demeanor that juxtaposed the tension.

It was astonishing to earl that he and jhenicca had embarked on this path. The hidden relationship between him and Jhenicca had been going on clandestinely for a significant period of nine months. Initially, it had been a mere coincidence, encounter in a bar where their paths crossed unexpectedly.   However, as fate would have it, the influence of alcohol led them to hook up that night. From that moment, their connection deepened, and it evolved into an ongoing affair, causing Earl to experience overwhelming guilt for cheating on you.

“We are truly betraying [Name] by engaging in secret meetings,” Earl whispered, causing Jhenicca to recline comfortably in her chair, propping her feet up on the desk without a care, even if it meant potentially crushing important documents beneath her soles. 

  With a piercing gaze, she interrogated, “Between the two of us—Me and [Name], whom do you love more?   Me or her?" 

  Feeling his throat tighten, Earl mustered the courage to respond, “You.”

  Jhenicca let out an exasperated sigh, her frustration apparent as she exclaimed, 

“Then what’s the big deal? We love each other, don’t we? Don’t worry, [Name] will never find out.”

...

...

...

...

As their conversation fell upon your ears, tears began to well up in your eyes, their meaning hitting you with full force.   Suddenly, everything started to make sense.   Their closeness, the way Jhenicca gazed at Earl with adoration, it was all clear now.   They had been hiding their secret involvement from you, deceiving you right under your nose.   The pain that came rushing over you was nearly unbearable, as the person you once loved and cherished had betrayed you with none other than your best friend. The mere thought of Jhenicca turning out to be a backstabber had never even crossed your mind.   Clenching your fists tightly, you fought against the overwhelming urge to burst into the room, confront them both, and scream at them.

In that moment, your heart seemed to shatter into innumerable fragments, completely consumed by an uncontrollable whirlwind of emotions—anger, sadness, and most of all, a profound feeling of betrayal.

As you clutched your chest, your face contorted with pain, the weight of their conversation pierced your heart like a sharp knife.   Earlier, you had received a brief call from headquarters, urgently instructing you to gather important documents and return to your office.   Obediently, you started making your way back, determined to fulfill your responsibilities. However, fate had different plans for you that day.   Along the corridor, their familiar voices reached your ears, luring you in with an irresistible curiosity.  Against your better judgment, you couldn’t resist the urge to eavesdrop on their conversation. 

  Little did you know, the words exchanged between them would shatter your heart into countless irreparable shards.

The shock and disbelief hit you like a ton of brick.  Anger immediately surged within you, a fiery mix of self-blame for not recognizing the signs sooner and directed towards those who had so callously betrayed you.   It was all becoming too much to bear. 

  Overwhelmed with a whirlwind of emotions, tears welled up in your eyes and streamed down your cheeks uncontrollably.  The pain you felt was indescribable, as if your entire world had come crashing down in an instant.   Without a second thought, you hastily abandoned the familiar surroundings of the police station, leaving your colleagues behind.   Although they called out to you with genuine concern, their voices only seemed like distant echoes in your ears. 

  Racing through the chaos of your own thoughts and emotions, you let instinct guide your trembling steps. The city streets blurred into a haze as you hurriedly made your way through the crowd.   Every footfall was a desperate attempt to escape the anguish that threatened to consume you entirely.   People glanced in your direction, their curious gazes fleeting, yet you were oblivious to their existence.   All that mattered at that moment was finding solace. 

  Filled with a potent blend of frustration and exasperation, you hastily made your way towards the vast expanse of the parking lot, an irrefutable reflection of your inner turmoil.   As your trembling hands grasped tightly onto the cold metal of your car keys, a surge of determination propelled you to forcefully insert the key into the lock, unleashing a resounding ‘click.’

Seeking solace within the confined space, you were driven to hastily enter your vehicle, forcefully slamming the door shut with an air of finality.   Unchecked tears cascaded down your face, a poignant manifestation of the amalgamation of anger and heartbreak that tightly gripped your soul.   “Can’t believe i’m so fucking dumb that i didn’t even get the hint,”

“I helped you, i was there for you, and this is your way of showing gratitude?” you exclaimed with sheer rage, your jaw clenched and your hands firmly gripping the steering wheel.   The deluge of intense feelings engulfed every fiber of your being, causing your eyes to well up with tears as you were overcome by an inconsolable fit of sobbing.

“After two fucking years of our love story, you threw it all away as if it held no value or significance?”  You were consumed with intense anger and frustration, directing all the blame towards jhenicca.   Your anger escalated to such a level that it led you to harbor a desire for something that, upon reflection, you didn’t knew you would later deeply regret.  

“I wish you two die in a painful way.”

𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃

You eventually drive away and returned home, consumed by anger, and unleashed your fury by destroying everything in sight: vases, picture frames, and the gifts Earl had given you. You smashed the vases, threw them on the ground and the wall, tore the pictures apart and ripped the gifts to shreds, you even trew your chair on the ground, and The room was now littered with shattered remnants of your rampage.

After four hours of relentless tears, your eyes were swollen and dry, leaving you devoid of any more tears to shed. Your throat felt parched, and fatigue washed over you, making you drowsy. Your break down caused too many destruction. And In the midst of this overwhelming exhaustion, your phone rang.

you grimaced.

“Probably that cheating bastards.” you muttered angrily, retrieving your phone and reluctantly opening it. The harsh light caused you to wince, but to your relief, it wasn't Jhenicca or Earl on the other end, but rather the headquarters.

With a mix of apprehension and frustration, you answered the call. A chill coursed down your spine as you listened to what they had to say.

“Your Boyfriend and Best friend was found dead.”

#𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐇’𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 #yandere x reader #yandere creepypasta #yandere eyeless jack #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack #creepypasta #yandere creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x reader #eyeless jack x you #dark themes #cw: gore #dark yandere

[tash-sho-sho]

I saw your post about Blade and honestly…same. But for me it’s Acheron, I’m just so strangely obsessed with her. Materials go to her, I bring her anywhere and everywhere, in all of my teams, etc etc.

I wouldn't fault you. She is so cool, I pulled for her and got lucky to have her in 30 pulls after giving my all to Luocha 😂 if I wasn't this obsessed with Blade, I would use her a LOT. Killing lesser enemies with turns? A turn-based game? What's that? They are dead before you can even blink.

She feels a pull. A golden light surrounds her and she hears the sound of a train. Did she get lost again? Acheron was sure she was outside, as outside you can be inside of a dream, when suddenly she felt a warm light of bright gold.

Although confused, she didn't show it, nor did react when she was given relics, and felt her power increased. It was strange, a first time, she doesn't remember a memory like this... not like she would remember anyway. 

A new feeling, unwelcome? Perhaps at first. It hasn't shown any sign of wanting to harm her so far, however.

... and it also seems that whatever that got her didn't want to let go of her. Acheron felt how the relics changed every few days, and her powers increased, too, if that was even possible.

Battle after battle, most of whatever rewards Acheron was collecting were for herself. This presence seems to want her to be stronger. Other times it was to fight and get something she isn't sure what it's for, a something she would forget later on.

Simulated Universe? Ah, it must be.... "They are dead now." She says, and her body moved to 'claim' the rewards. How many times had she fought in this place? She lost count, she started when she had entered a third time, but at some point she forgot. Acheron only knows that it had been way too many by now.

Another strange thing of her life after being pulled... she was impressed that she could go about anywhere and no one would bat an eye. Even if that area was off-limits.

It was an odd feeling, not being able to control your own body. Was the reward of more power worthy enough to give away her ability of free movement? Acheron is able to move only when that presence is gone.

She is still unsure if this deal (that was unwillingly put on her) was worthy. Acheron admits that the presence was mostly calming, or as calm as one could be when it never seems to want to let you breathe whenever its awake.

She doesn't know how to feel, but as long as this gentle-warm feeling is the only thing this entity ever shows to her, it wouldn't be that bad, right?

#honkai star rail #hsr #sagau #sahsrau #self aware #self aware hsr #acheron honkai star rail #Acheron hsr #acheron x reader