#in fact i only really have one more 'proper' part planned

[catboyieejeno]

seventeen reaction ˚୨୧⋆˚

⋆ hhu ver.

oddly specific details/key points of their relationship with you

cw: sfw, 'girl' is only mentioned once in wonwoo's, mentions a period once, and mentions showering together in mingyu's but it's not sexual, npr!

masterlist

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ seungcheol

⋆ seungcheol, who refuses to wake you up when he leaves early for practice/schedules, no matter how much you insist that he should.

when you bring it up, he always promises you that he will next time, and in that moment, he really isn't lying! he fully intends on fulfilling your wishes and waking you up to let you know he'll be heading out; in fact, there's nothing he wants more than to selfishly wake you and bid you a proper goodbye each and every morning he has to leave for work. except on the day of, when his alarm rings at nearly six in the morning, his plans change completely. he spends the better part of an hour talking himself up to the grueling task ahead of him, reminding himself that you literally want him to wake you up.

after he's showered, gotten ready, and is moments away from heading out, seungcheol's eyes land on you, face poking out under all the blankets that you love hogging, cheeks smushed and drool gathering at the corner of your lip. that's when he realizes he doesn't have it in him to disturb your slumber, and he probably never will. ultimately, he breaks his promise, settling instead for leaving a lingering kiss on your cheek and a note or text where he expresses his apology and explains that you deserved the rest. secretly enjoys the earful he gets later, and makes it up to you so sweetly.

⋆ seungcheol, who doesn't let you lift a finger when it's not necessary: "don't worry, i'll take care of it."

it doesn't matter to seungcheol that everyone sees him as responsible and reliable—what really matters to him, is that you see it, too. has no problem with you being independent, but he definitely feels a healthy surge of pride at the prospect of being able to facilitate things for you. having you depend on him, or at the very least having you know you can depend on him for anything, is so important to him. no task is too grueling, and babying you is a partner privilege i can't see him not indulging in. the members definitely call him out for it if it ever happens in front of them, but he could not care less.

if your car needs an oil change, he'll go get it done while you're taking a nap so you don't have to worry about it later. if he notices any laundry piling up throughout the week, he'll do it while you run an errand so that you have one less thing to do when you get home. if you want to redecorate or renovate something, he's invested in your ideas, learning how build complicated furniture and polish floor tiles—anything it takes he'll do, as long as it means he can make you happy. very much an 'acts of service' kind of guy.

⋆ seungcheol, who calls everyday to check-in.

it might seem like it's the bare minimum, but when he works the job that he does and is as busy as he is, knowing that he puts time aside to call you throughout the day is so, so meaningful. especially when he's in a different time zone, staying up late into the night or getting before the sun so that he can wish you a good morning/night. always asks if you've eaten, what you're planning to do that day, etc. and he'll talk to you until he's confident that you don't feel neglected in any way. you're never a second thought to him, and he wants to make sure you feel like he's dedicating time and attention to you, even when he's not physically there to do so.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ wonwoo

⋆ wonwoo, who replaces all of your favorite things the moment they run out.

the level of attention to detail he has for things involving you is both concerning and extremely endearing. he's so attentive to you and remembers all of the things you like and dislike. at the start of your relationship, it was pretty subtle: keeping your favorite drinks and snacks stocked up at his apartment for when you came over or buying a few pairs of shorts or sweats (since you’re obviously wearing his shirts) for when you’d stay the night. keeps them neatly folded in a drawer for you to wear on days need to cover up a bit more, like if Mingyu is around.

eventually, this evolves into restocking your favorite shampoo and conditioner when he's showered at yours and noticed you're out. same goes for your favorite perfume that's running low, and other house-hold things like your detergent or your favorite candle.

always makes sure you're taken care of during outings—brings hair ties and little battery-powered fans for hot days, and on cold winter days, opens his jacket so you can hug his waist and he can wrap it around you, swaying the two of you side to side. presses his cheek against yours to warm it up or kisses the icy tip of your nose.

⋆ wonwoo, whose love language is ambiguous

not only is he receptive to any love language you may have, he is somehow amazing at giving you all five (regardless of which one is your actual favorite).

gift giving? the most thought-through, special gifts for his special girl, as frequent as he deems necessary, too, because you deserve nothing less. quality time? one of his favorite things is sitting with you in a comfortable silence, making occasional jokes and comments to get you to crack a grin. a smile is his favorite look on you. acts of service? waters your plants, cooks for you, cleans or organizes things just how you like them so that you're at your most comfortable, massages your shoulders and feet after long days, runs warm, scented baths—you name it, he does it. physical touch? scoops you into his lap because he's obsessed with how warm you are, and the way your weight feels on him is so, so infatuating. likes leaving light and airy kisses on your cheek or pressing his lips into the crook of your neck. all of his kisses take your breath away, but the ones on your shoulder where he mumbles soft confessions of love are particularly awe-spiring. words of affirmation? don't be fooled by his quietness—he always has something he's eager to say to you, and if it's to pay you a compliment, there is no restriction to his words. loves telling you just how happy you make him, how pretty you are, how you're his safety-net and his soulmate and all of his favorite things put in one.

⋆ wonwoo, who sets aside time for you

you'd never have to ask him to put a book down or hop off a game. the moment you appear, he's putting everything aside to greet you and hold you and ask how you've been. if you're upset or sad, he'll glue himself to your side until you feel better. he seems like the type of person who feels very deeply for the people he cares about, so it's extremely important to him that you are always feeling your best, for his sake and yours. listens so deeply to your concerns and complaints for any matter—whether it's in an argument and you're sharing your views, or after a bad day at work where you ramble and rant about what went wrong.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ mingyu

⋆ mingyu, who is impatient when it comes to you

he's understanding of the fact that the two of you cannot always be together, considering his career and the fact that you're also busy at times; regardless, he has an inability to be away from you for longer than a few hours. it’s endearing, his neediness showing in the form of longing text messages or voice notes where he whines and mumbles, “what are you doing? i miss youuuu,”

his impatience is also evident in person, like how he runs up to the door when he hears your keys jingling because he's that eager to greet you. most of the time if he's cooking or tasting something, you end up tasting the food on his lips because he's never patient enough to wait until he swallows a bite of food before he kisses you.

⋆ mingyu, who is so gentle and thoughtful with you

loves pampering you, whether its by scrubbing your shampoo into your scalp as he sits behind you in a hot bath, or getting up before you to bring you breakfast in bed. most of the time, showering together isn't even sexual; he'll hold you close and mumble soft compliments or talk about his day, wrap you in a towel when you get out, dry your hair for you, apply lotion, whatever your regular routine is— and he truly enjoys every part of it. if he comes home after you've fallen asleep, he'll make sure your phone is plugged in and any alarms you may need are on. finishes any tasks around the house you may have forgotten to do prior to your slumber, like folding clothes you left in the dryer or washing any dishes in the sink.

treats you as if you were made of glass, covering the corners of tables when you walk by or holding your hand while you cross the street. pouts while he takes care of you if you're sick or injured, cooing and bandaging your cuts and scrapes or insisting you take your medicine around the clock and rest (perhaps even excessively... you could have seasonal allergies, and he'll still scold you for wanting to get out of bed).

⋆ mingyu, who dedicates a section of his phone to you

loves candid pictures and loves your face. simple.

there's a hidden photo album on his phone with all the pictures he has of you and with you and there are various playlists dedicated to you, too. any song that reminds him of you is on a playlist with a cheesy name. another playlist consist of songs he knows you like or even thinks you might like. plays these for you on drives where his hand clutches yours and the windows are down.

if you're an individual who gets their period, he has your period tracker on his phone so he can plan accordingly and make sure he's extra sweet to you around that time. has recipes you like/he wants to make for you set aside in a pinterest board or bookmarked on his search page. also keeps your favorite shopping apps with the cart full of things you mentioned so he can get them for you.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ vernon

⋆ vernon, who can't watch shows without you

there's certain tv shows that he completely avoids unless you're there to watch them with him. even if the guys beg him to watch it, he'll refuse and lock himself in his room so there's no chance it might be spoiled. when he's with you though? a few nights of the week, the two of you sit down with snacks and sugary drinks to watch your favorite series together like an old married couple watching their nightly programs.

loves when you you curl up in his lap, both of you wrapped under one blanket with your head resting on his shoulder and his arms circled around you. his gasps and laughs and overall reactions are so loud by your ear but it's adorable and it's such a domestic and comfortable experience. it feels very familiar, and more often than not, both of you prefer this to going out.

⋆ vernon, who rests the best when he's around you

needs his afternoon naps, but specifically, he needs them with you. limbs tangled and light conversation before you drift off that just becomes slurred, pointless babbling. quiet snores and soft breaths take over as the early afternoon hours go by. just the warmth of having you near makes his heart so happy and his rest so fulfilling, especially before practice or after long hours of travelling.

it's a treat to wake up beside him after these catnaps, too. the sleepy features and tousled hair are so very boyfriend, and the way he looks at you when his eyes peek open is so cute.

⋆ vernon, who always tries new things with you

a yes man, any time, all of the time. whether you ask to go on a grocery run at two in the morning or a hike at dawn, he's saying yes. whenever you want to try something new, vernon is your partner in crime and your greatest alliance. he's not only your boyfriend, but your best friend, and it makes everything so fun. always puts a smile on your face, too. he's so goofy and easy going that it's difficult to not feel great around him.

enthusiastic and supportive when you wanna try new hobbies. always asks so many questions so you know he's interested and invested, and will get you any tools or resources you need to excel. trying new foods and restaurants is also high up on the list of things the two of you like to do. he might like keeping a little list of your favorite spots so he can find similar ones to try with you.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

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[whispereons]

Oracle!Reader Part 14

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 13, Part 15

Warning as usual. There is blood and gore in this chapter!

Staring up at the Archon parading around in human form, you lick your lips and note how even those minor injuries were healed. Your body aches with phantom pain, some wounds healed too rapidly. 

"I don't mind answering some questions, can I get your name first?"

A small smile plays at his lips as his hand is held out in front of you. "My name is Zhongli, I'm the Funeral Parlors consultant. It would be a pleasure to hear yours, outlander."

So he is aware of your origin, well at least partly aware. If he's not going to pull any punches then why should you? Besides if it all goes wrong, you can blame it on the bloodloss that you're still recovering from.

"I'm Y/N, and you're correct that I do not originate from this world. You must not be a normal person either, in fact you look identical to this statue. This one portrays Morax the Geo Archon, but I'm sure you know that, Rex Lapis."

Getting a good look at the statue from your proximity, it was obvious that Zhongli was Morax. You could make the excuse of it being game logic on why no one makes the connection, but that wouldn't work anymore. Maybe the statues are imbued with power that prevents anyone from this world to recognize the similarities?

"So it seems you are more knowledgeable than the traveler was when they arrived here. I should have known considering how the Electro and Geo particles surround you with zeal. Perhaps Teyvat is charmed by the features you share with the Holy One."

His step forward and angled head to look you in the eyes have you staring at glowing amber hues. The red eyeliner and outlined iris make it uncomfortably clear how intensely he's examining you.

"The curve of your lips, a stature so familiar, you resemble the creator so much. Teyvat must be bewitched and awed by an individual so alike as you. If only I could see your face in it's full visage, only then would I know for sure..."

Anyone would feel flattered or embarrassed with how seriously Zhongli studies you, but dread is the only thing you feel. You know that behind those honey-coated words is a trap just waiting for you to spring.

Too bad for him; the last thing you plan to be is predictable.

"My, my what a compliment! A devout and faithful follower like yourself is comparing me to the creator? You should pray for forgiveness to the merciful creator. I'm a servant for them, just in a different league than you. My connection with them is strong enough that Teyvat graces me with qualities alike yet inferior to the Everlasting One."

Zhongli returned to his perfect posture at your words, the flash of envy couldn't hide. "Oh?" Narrowed eyes and a lofty tone that encourages you to smile wider. "And what position could an outsider like you hold?"

"Well, as an Oracle of course! Really, just how dumb are you? An outlander that is incredibly knowledgeable of the Creator? It's painfully obvious." There's no reaction to your test insults, which is fine that wasn't the last you had in store.

"I'm from the world that the Creator is recuperating in. It's due to that, that I can speak to them much more freely than everyone here. Even Teyvat pales in comparison. That's why Teyvat is so attached to me, my aura is overwhelmed by the creators."

Honestly, you had Chongyun to thank for that one. You weren't sure how you were supposed to explain the whole Teyvat clinging to you without sounding repetitive. But if Zhongli was that easily fooled, he wouldn't be one of the victors of the Archon war.

"Then enlighten me on why the glorious creator would need an Oracle of your caliber to spread their word. Surely that's the least you can do." He's fully dropped that faux-polite tone in contrast to the technically proper speech. 

"Gladly! It's become common knowledge that the elemental monsters and animals have started to act strangely. Add in the leylines that change from out of control to perfectly calm in a matter of minutes or weeks. These are all signs of the Creator's upcoming appearance! They need to be sure of who in this vast land they can properly trust."

"That still doesn't explain why you in particular were chosen. A wily and fresh child like you wouldn't do the best job." Hard like stone, Zhongli refused to even blink at your words. A god like himself would never falter after thousands of years spent perfecting his worship. 

But did he really have to insult you at the same time?

"So you refuse to believe it because of my supposed inability to properly carry out any duties assigned to me? You don't even know all that I had done to arrive here! Surely you should know just how rough the waters were..."

The hand that covers your mouth does a poor job of covering the sly smile. Zhongli stares at you in silence, the wind swaying around the floating chunk of rock that you both stand on.

"Just what are you trying to imply?" His voice is as soft as a whisper but cutting like the sharpest steel.

"Why explain it when I can show it?" Silently rejoicing at such a convenient set up, you peer into your bag and grab the item you've been saving.

Shimmering brightly in the harsh glares of the sun is Beisht's scale, still in pristine condition despite your perilous journey since that day you got it from the sea-leviathan.

It feels like ages ago. Just how much time has passed since you arrived on Teyvat? How much more time will you spend in situations like this? Weeks? Months? YEARS?

The existential dread is quickly pushed away by your beaming smile at Zhongli's reaction to the singular item. The rocky exterior finally breaks at the proof of your 'abilities'. His lips part at the bright teal color and he blinks incredulously at it.

Really, how could you pass up the chance to rub it in?

"Surely a human of my caliber would be capable of this much. I mean, a perfectly intact scale from a leviathan that managed to avoid the whole Qixing that isn't dyed in blood? Child's play for a servant specifically chosen by the Creator. I never doubted the creators' choices!" 

Holding the scale in front of you, you smirk at the man with as much snark as you hold in your heart. "The same can't be said for you, Mr. 'That still doesn't explain why you in particular were chosen.' Because the Creator is capable of choosing anyone they want, for whatever reason they desire."

Silence envelopes the area as you stare at him, a beat passes with no movement until a gruff chuckle leaves him.

"The more you speak, the closer I come to a conclusion." Recovering quickly, Zhongli's gloved hand rises to tap his mouth contemplatively. "You're either something far worse than I've seen in a long time, or a hope for the Creator's return."

That white outline around his iris seems to spin with the malicious joy that he refuses to show. It's like his body screams that he'll either enjoy your presence or your destruction. Nerves and anxiety grip your heart but ignoring it has always worked better for you.

"Maybe I can say the same thing about you considering your past, but I see you still aren't convinced. And how could I ever let you, one of the longest standing worshippers, have doubts about me? So tell me, were Beisht and her husband devout or sacrilegious beings?"

The answer he'll say is obvious, not only because you hold such a confident stance showing that you know the answer but because of Zhongli himself. A noble dragon that willingly bows to someone would feel ashamed at the thought of resorting to lying to boost his own pride.

Quite ironic how you hold so much trust in his answer due to the acolytes' faith in the creator. The same faith that led you to this position, and the same thing that'll keep you from ever exposing the truth of your identity. A constant force preventing them from meeting their 'beloved' creator.

"You met Beisht in the flesh, there's no doubt that she is solemn and serious in her worship. The same can be said for Osial, it was one of the few things I could agree with the leviathan. Even still, I'm the superior believer. After all, I'm the one who is left after all this time." 

"Yet I met Beisht before you."

The scoff and know-it-all tone he used pricked at your nerves long enough to cause an annoyed response to slip out. Unfortunately, that seems to be what Zhongli was baiting for as he laughs, the low sound making the rock platform tremble.

"That's if you're even an Oracle. You may be from that world and even heard about Teyvat from the Creator, but for all I know, you could have been banished here for us acolytes to execute. Whether it be for avenging the Creator or entertaining them."

Damn, it was almost scary how fast he turned the situation around. But how could you falter now? Getting tongue-tied at such a crucial moment would be a pathetic way to lose your life.

"And what will you do if I truly am an Oracle? When the creator's return is delayed months, years or even decades due to your rash actions, what will you tell the creator when confronted with the consequences of your own actions?"

"Then you should work hard enough to prove to skeptics like myself. To put blind faith in whatever is dubbed the creator's is a fool's belief. Temptation and sin ravage Teyvat from the long drought of the Creator's presence."

For a split second, sorrow clouded his eyes. He's hiding something. It’s important and you can feel it in your soul. The only thing that really stains his and Venti's reputation is their war with Khaenri'ah. It must be connected to that. 

But it's too early to try digging in for information on that. He doesn't even believe you to be the Oracle, how could you possibly get that out of him? What if he's under a contract and must stay silent on the matter?

Lost in his memories, Zhongli doesn't realize how your face pinches in frustration. You'll have to get his approval as the Oracle before you can even- 

Oh.

Oh, why didn't you realize this before?

A grin spreads across your face as you circle in on the heart of the problem and the perfect way to fix it.

It's not that Zhongli doesn't believe you to be the creator's Oracle, he just doesn't want to believe it! He's envious: envious of why a random outlander like you got such a nice position in comparison to him who probably spent most of his life molding himself to the creators standards.

All that's left is to reel him in and you know the perfect way how.

"Prove myself? I've done plenty to prove myself, but what about you?" Mockingly, you tilt your head as your empty gaze peers into Zhongli's eyes, digging deep into him. He focuses back on the conversation at your shift in tone.

"If anyone should have to prove themselves, it should be you." This time it's you who takes the bold step forward. "Let's start at the beginning, shall we? And try to keep in that temper too so that I can finish my words. A dragon your age should know such simple things."

"As Morax you were quite powerful, though a brute to be completely honest. Still, you knew your limits well and paired up with the Lord of Dust before the Archon War, who served as the 'brain'. Tell me, just how did it feel when you found her as nothing more than a statue that day?"

Your words have a strong effect on the imposing man, his fist trembling at the mention of such a beloved god, one whose death still pains him. Paying no mind to his pain you ask the monumental question.

"Just how much resentment do you hold against the Creator for her death?"

A hand slams you against the Statue hard enough to bruise your skin. It doesn't squeeze around your throat but there's no need to as the Geo begins to petrify your legs, locking you in place. The Statue is in a constant state of healing in defense to the bruises on your neck.

"Just what are you trying to imply by saying that?" Cold and apathetic is the voice that flows from the stoic man. It's what you would imagine Morax would sound like before Guizhong taught him how to care for humans.

"C'mon, that's the second time you've asked me that. Don't make me speak the obvious-" A shuddering gasp leaves you as he tightens his grip. But it's gone just as fast; a flock of birds tackle Zhongli.

You can only watch in shock as what was only 4 to 5 birds grow to become at least 15 birds of all kinds attacking him. The throbbing of your neck being healed as the Geo instantly releases you is overshadowed by Zhongli swatting at the birds as he takes continuous steps back.

But that's all it took for Zhongli to fall off the edge as the birds flew away cawing happily. Standing and staring at the spot where Zhongli fell off in shock, you begin to chuckle. It grows to a giggle before you're laughing hysterically as you buckle to the ground. Loud peels of laughter ring around the area as you hold your stomach from the ache of laughing so much.

To think Teyvat took the initiative to help you out for once. Why couldn't it do it sooner? Was it only after gaining some power from activating a new nations statue of the seven that it could? You couldn't focus on the question anymore as the look on Zhongli's face when he fell came to mind again.

The sight of his eyes blown wide and a split second of pure panic sent you straight back into a fit of laughter. The ground far below you shakes as a Geo pillar constructs a bridge high enough to reach the stone you sat on. 

The sound of footsteps make you open your eyes and giggle at the sight of a disheveled and annoyed Zhongli. Annoyed is still an improvement compared to his enraged state earlier. With giggles slipping out, you stand back up and laugh louder at his appearance in full view.

His hair was pulled out of his rattail with his earrings nowhere to be seen. Bits and pieces of the weaker cloth of his suit were missing, giving him a poor look that didn't match his flawless posture. The red marks and light cuts only added to the joy you feel at his expense.

"Are you finished laughing, Y/N?"

"For now at least. I would suggest buying a new set of clothes but I don't think you have the mora for it!" Zhongli only lets out a long-suffering sigh as you crack up again.

You would be scolding yourself for not taking the chance to escape while he was away but it was better this way. You didn't need the information about Khaenri'ah, it was nice to know but the information wouldn't help you live.

The main reason you stayed was because running away would prove Zhongli right to be suspicious about you. It would let him know that you're scared and have something to hide. Plus, that would mean having to escape Liyue the same way you did Ei, just in a worse situation.

That's not something you want to repeat.

"Alright I'm done laughing." You say while wiping off the budding tears from the corner of your eyes. Zhongli sends you a look that screams that he doesn't believe you but you shrug it off.

"Really, that question was more of a test if you will. My main job is simply to see who the Creator can trust. Your relationship with the Creator beyond that is between you and them." 

The calm and peaceful tone you use is such a contrast to the one you used earlier that Zhongli is clearly apprehensive. Paying it no mind you continue to speak. 

"If you truly want a reason to at least try and believe me to be the oracle even if you don't fully believe me, then I'll give you one. I'm sure you still have the stone dumbbell from Guizhong that you've never been able to open. I know how to open it."

Those last words have Zhongli staring at you intensely as you gaze off into the distance. The Dragon-Queller tree is visible through the fog with its glowing blue branches and yellow leaves.

"How?" He breathes out, scared to trust but scared to lose this opportunity too.

"It requires a naturally grown glaze lily cultivated by the Creator. That's because it requires a 'pure' glaze lily and the only one who can grow such a thing at this day and age is the Creator. All the natural glaze lilies have died after all."

Zhongli's shoulders slump at your words. It seems he started to let his guard down after he fell off. He must no longer view you as a threat or, at most, an annoyance. That's okay with you, underestimation is the most useful viewpoint they could have for you.

"Should I even make an attempt to ask you why it can only be unlocked with that? You're only telling me this as a last resort to keep you alive, correct? Even if I told you that I would keep you alive without that information, you wouldn't believe me. As childish as you may be, foolishness does not seem to be a quality you hold."

"That may be true, but if you really want an answer to that first question then I'll tell you." You look over to lock eyes with him and smile. It conceals every sneaky and vicious thought you hold. "I have no clue. The Creator instructed me to use it as a last resort, if you want that answer then try praying. Perhaps you'll get an answer."

You would like to know the answer to the stone dumbbell too. After all, you only made up the solution! Seeing as Zhongli spent all these years after Guizhong's death, failing to unlock it, it's a good bet that it'll never open. 

It's silent as you both get lost in your own thoughts. Unlike before it wasn't tense, it was more comparable to the silence you would spend alone in your apartment. The nights you would only be accompanied by the thoughts of the 'what-if' situations. Thoughts that would only stay thoughts just as the past would be just that, the past.

Wanderer learned that the hard way too. You wouldn't let yourself hold so many regrets before your inevitable death. Even in Liyue you weren't truly safe, so wouldn't it be best to speak to Zhongli while you still could?

"I have questions about Khaenri'ah… Well, the better way to put it is that the Creator has questions about them. It's one of the few things that they mourn the most. A whole nation devoted to worshiping solely the creator, destroyed by the Archons that swore their life and loyalty to the creator. So will you explain it to me?"

His eyes fill with the same sorrow you saw in him earlier. It seems you were right in guessing that his line on blindly trusting things labeled with the creator was connected to Khaenri'ah.

"I have spent all my years after that day asking for forgiveness, for some way to atone. It was one of the few contracts that I did not properly balance in equivalent exchange. I regret signing it, not for myself but for my beloved God."

"So it's a no."

"It's an agreement not to speak of it."

"Then don't speak about it." Zhongli seeds you a questioning glance as you mischievously smile at him. "Just listen to my words and don't look away. I'm quite sure nodding and shaking your head doesn't count as breaking your silence."

A huff of amusement leaves him at your solution. His eyes close with his lips curling into a small smile. He nods his head in acceptance, not having the drive to poke holes into your stubbornness.

You were quite confident in the conclusions you've drawn so far. Genshin Impact was nearly the sole reason you were living back on Earth. Family and friends were nonexistent, you had given up hope on making any new connections as well. The only thing you did when you weren't home was work and your work made you be everything but yourself. So combining everything you know from the game with everything of the cult that you've learned thus far shouldn't be too hard.

"When the Archon War broke out, I'm sure most of you were merely looking to keep your people and nation alive. The original design of having the gods powered solely on their people's worship paled in comparison to Celestia's offer of power by obtaining a spot in a group of seven. At the end, you all had a choice. Accept your spot by accepting a Gnosis, or go against them similar to how the Dragon King once did."

Zhongli perks up at the mention of the Dragon King. Not many people know about the original Dragon King. Most people assume it's Azhdaha when in reality, the original was a far greater dragon.

"You all must have been quite against it. The only God you would all bow under would be the Creator who had left before those events to sleep in my world, yet Celestia probably whispered to you all that it was allowed on Teyvat because it was approved by the Creator. That the Gnosis was a reward for all your hard work and as Celestia was the first descender, all of you accepted it.”

The way he begins to stare at you is invasive, like he's just dying to jump you to get every bit of knowledge you hold on the topic. He's starting to suspect you.

"Yet when Khaenri'ah was revealed to exist years afterwards, everything was thrown into confusion. I'm sure you and the other Archons were fine with their presence as Khaenri'ah worshiped the Creator, but was Celestia?" 

A sly smile creeps upon your face at the memory of when it was revealed that Khaenri'ah  wasn't the first civilization to be turned into hilichurls. No one liked Celestia so you had no problem pinning almost all the blame onto it.

"I'm sure they were enraged, especially as Khaenri'ah grew more and more bold with their inventions. Gold in particular was quite dangerous seeing as she not only created life but also Durin and the Golden Wolflord. And even that was unintentional!"

You laugh cheerfully as Zhongli chuckles in surprise at your words. Had you successfully deterred him? Probably not, but he hasn't stopped you so you'll keep going till the end.

"Celestia ordered you all to aid them in destroying Khaenri'ah but you all refused. How could any of you harm a nation so devoted to the creator even if they refused to worship Celestia or the Seven? But that Gnosis you all accepted comes with a price. A price that serves as leverage and a control device."

The thoughts of what Beisht told you on how Celestia had caused them to forget the original way of worship resurfaced. Celestia was just too suspicious for that to be the only thing they had done. It would take a lot more than that to force the Archons to listen to them.

"That Gnosis was like a drug. It gave you all so much power, tasting and making you feel like you're on top of the world! Just for it to come crashing down when the unpleasant side effects hit you. It corrupted you all like poison forcing you to wage war against Khaenri'ah. My best bet is that it was like mind control. What do you say?"

He looks at you with a blank expression, as if trying to see the secrets you hid in your soul through your eyes. But there's no response from him, not even the occasional nods that he was giving before.

"Well if it was mind control, perhaps it made you believe that Khaenri'ah had plans to overrule the Creator and create their own human god. Or maybe it made them out to be traitors to the creator. Perhaps both? That doesn't really matter, what does matter is that only after the war was in full throttle were you all brought back to your senses."

You didn't have any proof of that last part, it just seemed like something Celestia would do. Not only to prove their superiority but also force the Archons to put their best effort in defeating the people of Khaenri'ah to save their nations.

"After the war ended, you all wanted to get rid of it but Celestia wouldn't allow such a thing. Even if you most likely tried to find some loophole, Celestia doesn't play nice. It would make sense if they threatened to give a punishment similar to what they had done to Khaenri'ah. So long as none of you destroy or throw it away, they'll leave you all be,”

Venti was a god, no matter what fans said, there was no way he would lose to Signora. It made more sense if that was his way of 'handing' it over to the Tsaritsa. There was also Nahida who threatened to break her Gnosis to one-up Dottore. That was always funny, you would kill to have witnessed that in person. 

"Of course none of you would actually use it or even desire it in your vicinity. Everyone wins when the Tsaritsa uses her various methods to acquire the gnosis'. And thanks to the traveler appearing during that time, Celestia was probably too busy freaking out over that to pay too much attention. For a while at least."

Finally looking back to Zhongli, you smiled proudly. "I must be pretty close right? At no point did you laugh at me like you did with Alice so I'll take that as a good sign. And even if I'm wrong, everything will be solved when the Creator descends."

Stretching to loosen the tension in your back, you applaud yourself for the brilliant thinking. It's not like anyone can actually fake gold blood for long when even hair dye didn't exist yet. You're basically leaving all these loose ends to the you that would be believed to be the Creator. Which is never going to happen!

"Would the Creator scorn me for asking you once again if you're truly an oracle?"

"I'm sure the glorious creator would be fully justified in doing so, but I'll scorn you in their stead.. And don't get it twisted, it's not because of your feelings concerning Guizhong's death. It's how you, by your own negligence, offended the Creator!"

An utterly baffled expression paints his face at your accusation. Unrelenting, you point your finger at him with a serious face that you haven't shown him till now.

"Did you really believe that the creator wouldn't realize? Just how little you changed from that brute of a dragon that saw humans as plentiful yet insignificant as dust? To think that you believed yourself to be comparable to the primordial dragons."

Zhongli stiffens at the mention of the primordial dragons. After all he is the prime of the Adepti who's exuvia is a dragon, not a primordial dragon. Wouldn't it be fun if he held some sense of inferiority when compared to the primordial ones?

Zhongli sits on the ledge of the rock with his elbows on his legs and his hands covering his face. It was time. He would question just what you were talking about and you'll explain the elemental sacrificing that he forgot. That'll be the end and he'll have no choice but to support you! 

Smiling knowingly you approach him and lean down to see behind the shadow casting over his eyes. Your eyes twinkle victoriously as his breath leaves a cloud from the crisp air.

"I should have known that the creator would not forgive me for failing to arrive on time."

What? 

"How could I have been beaten to that shooting star by that astrologist? No matter who may have been her master, I failed to arrive on time."

Zhongli sulks there as he continues rambling to himself on 'missing' the shooting star due to his old age. Was he seriously talking about how you lost him the first time to Mona?!

Memories come back of you using the last of your wishes on his banner and being greeted with Mona instead. The first 50/50 you lost and was forced to use nearly all your primogems to get him. A fact that you never let Zhongli forget through your adventures.

Just what would he do if he knew how you always switched to a different character whenever his idle starts to play? Would he sew his lips together in repentance? That must be the difference between a true believer and a fake believer...

Holding back a sigh you begin brainstorming on how you were supposed to bring the conversation back to the sacrificing. Zhongli is too lost in his own head as he begins to continuously blame himself for any mistake he could have made.

"Being unable to answer the travelers' questions must have worsened their view on me too."

"That and how you were willing to let Liyue flood if they couldn't defeat Osial."

"Human life may be precious but they're as numerous as the dust that make up stone. I would rebuild Liyue for the rest of this long life until I cultivate a nation that I could humbly present the creator with."

"Then shouldn't the creator just grind you down and raise a different Adepti to their exact liking? You should work hard to be exactly what they desire to be truly loved."

"Are you saying that the Creator loathes me?" He finally looks away from the sea of clouds to stare at you. Sparing him a glance, you listen to him grow more panicked by your silence.

"Do they wish to see me crumble and be reabsorbed into the earth for my mistakes, for my sins? Was it the way I mechanically went through the motions of worship for the few years after Guizhong's death? Or does my benevolent god crave me and my nation to fall for aiding in the destruction of Kh-?"

Abruptly Zhongli grasps at his chest where his heart lays as he coughs. More out of politeness than concern you rub his back as fluid flies from his lips to his closed fist.

The thick inky plum colored fluid stained his fist with droplets of crimson swirling within it. His coughing fit slows to a halt as his hand slowly releases the clothing over his heart. Harsh breathing and a shallow pained groan is all that can be heard as he cleans himself up.

“Pardon me-” 

“Was that a warning from Celestia or a side effect if you get too close to speaking?"

"The implication is the same no matter what it may be from." He whispers as you begin to move back to return his personal space. Yet his now ungloved hand is what wraps around your grass stained sleeve.

"Now answer my question." Determination and a barely concealed unruly emotion simmer beneath his composed surface as he asks. "As an oracle, tell me what I have to do to earn their forgiveness. What must I reap to begin repenting for the sins I sowed?" 

Eyes widening at the sight of the disheveled man, you stare at him quietly. The messy hair, cut up clothing and grip tight enough to keep you still all while being careful not to bruise.

Hook, line and sinker.

"Is that a question for me to answer? Am I the god that you wronged? If you wish to communicate with the creator yourself, then there is a way. A method to begin regaining the pebbles that make up the mountain of trust you once shared with them."

You grab the arm that connects to his hand wrapped around your own and pull him up. He obeys the silent command and stands up, his gaze never faltering from your form. Silent and towering like the mountains he's created, he simply listens.

"Celestia has hidden more from you than you originally thought. But I'm sure you already know that. Offer yourself to the merciful creator and they'll surely hear your pleas of forgiveness. Whether they forgive you or not is up to them."

Releasing your hold on him, you turn to survey the area. Now where could you have him perform the sacrifice? His free hand comes to rest on your shoulder for your attention.

"What must I offer of myself? My blood? My body? If need be, I'll even be willing to offer my life. My life is worthless without them. I'm nothing more than a grain of mineral if not for them."

"There's so many things you can offer, but if you want to make the most impact, then you'll offer up your body parts. Your life may be precious but just how much longer do you have left?"

"Then will the private temple I have built for them work? We can head there immediately." He points south to the sole unnamed mountain in Minlin. You vividly remember unlocking the teleport waypoint there.

"The only way I'll know is when I see the interior. I'll meet you there Zhongli!"

Pulling yourself away from his grasp, you close your eyes and calmly imagine what the scenery around the waypoint looks like. The rocky feel of the floating stone changes to a lush green beneath your feet. Opening your eyes you're greeted with a valley of viridescent brustles with degraded stone ruins at the edges. 

"To think that the Creator even allowed you access to the waypoints. They must treasure you greatly." He appears at your side in a matter of minutes. His tone has a hint of longing and bitterness.

It's sweet like the flavor of a childhood candy that you would sneak behind your parents backs. Almost sweet enough to make up for the starvation you would face later on as punishment.

"Instead of focusing on that, why don't you show me that private temple you created? As the Geo Archon, I hold high expectations for you."

"This temple is the one I created for me. If you want the glamorous shrine built for the mass and appearance then you're better off viewing the public one that the Qixing now control."

He walks down the hill until the grass is tall enough to cover his calves. You follow behind him and stare blankly at the plain that is covered with a healthy amount of tall marigolds. Just as you're about to repeat the question, the earth begins to rumble.

It starts with just one stone rising from the ground, until it multiplies into a roof like structure. You watch in awe as a temple surges out of the mountain with the slightest bits of dirt falling off it.

Stone of high quality and clearly careful upkeep shines with small cracks from the passage of time. Gold, silver, and bronze layer the nooks and crannies of the pillars that keep a roof over the doorway.

Marveling at it, you follow Zhongli into the temple... He couldn't kill you in it, right? Surely you could still teleport even if he locked you in it… Teleporting without using the map might not work due to the focus and effort it required, but doing it with the map has never failed you yet.

The inside was even more impressive; statues of all kinds surrounded the hallway. It was you, always you, just in different poses, clothing and materials. From thin robes crafted entirely from Cor Lapis, to suits made of Noctilucous Jade.

Arriving at what seemed to be the main room, you're greeted with a huge statue comparable to the public one in Inazuma's plaza. Sunlight bathed your statue from the skylight above it.

Your body was made of Cor Lapis decorated in an Archon-like robe made from Noctilucous Jade. A fresh Glaze Lily sat in your palm as Silk Flowers adorned your head in a crown like structure. You sat on a blue stone throne that seemed to grow brighter as you approached it. The sleek yet dense mineral looked like the magical crystal chunks you would give to the blacksmiths. 

"Be careful to not venture too close to that one, the elemental energy may leave it to join you." Zhongli warns as he steps into the middle of the room. Smiling casually to hide your amazement, you head back to him.

"What an impressive statue, the Creator is feeling quite pleased with the display but still wishes to see your true remorse." Digging into your bag, you brought out the ceremonial knife and the handbook you took notes on.

"Go get the softest cloth and lay it on the ground. This ritual is simple, you'll cut off whatever part of your body you wish to offer, pray, and wait for a response. If 10 to 20 minutes pass with no response, then you can leave it at that or offer more in hopes of a response."

Closing the book and shoving it back into your bag you offer the knife to Zhongli. He looks up from where he laid the gilded gold fabric to stare at the knife before letting out a drawl laugh.

"That knife will do little to my scales, Y/N. A ceremonial item is to be bathed in liquid gold to be used so I have more than enough weapons that can actually cut my skin."

Scoffing, you stuff the knife back in as he leaves and returns with a variety of weapons. The largest was an ax that smelled faintly of blood. Was it used to sacrifice someone not too long ago? The thought makes you uncomfortable, yet you're no longer alarmed at the thought.

My, have you changed.

You move to stand away from the center closer to the exit. Zhongli's bare hand turns to a pattern of black and amber hues. Shedding his thick coat, his flexed muscles in draconic form are left in full view.

If you were back on Earth, you would have killed to view this. An Archon’s skin was something the majority of the players wished for, for quite a while. Even now, you would love to see his true Archon form, but the thought of actually living was far more tantalizing.

Rolling up his sleeves, he chooses a sword and examines it carefully. Without fear he raises it high and slices downwards cutting his hand off cleanly. The ruby liquid sprays onto the floor as the droplets drip off his sword and dismembered limb simultaneously.

It doesn't matter how many times you witness or smell blood, it still disgusts you. The only blood you truly cherished in shedding was the one that left that man's body when you stabbed him in that cold alleyway.

His hand lands onto the expensive textile with a wet thud as the ivory bone sticks out. Zhongli lays the sword down gently resisting the urge to groan in pain. Gritting his teeth he returned his attention and gaze back to you. You, who stayed in perfect position ahead of him, clad in gems and minerals carved by his own hand.

Closing his eyes, his lips followed the adored pass time of praying with intensity. Too lost in his regret, joy, and infatuation his words slipped out clear like the perfectly carved jewels he’s crafted for you.

"My god, my god. For I have sinned against you so. The mistakes I cannot fix or change, I pray for your forgiveness." Your unmoving, unchangeable eyes stared at him with an expression so familiar to him, one who worshiped you in this temple for centuries.

"From allowing myself to be tricked, to the lack of devotion I felt to you in Guizhong's death and finally with how I treated a servant of yours with disdain. Envious, I am envious to an extent that I shouldn't hold to my righteous god like you. Even now I still haven't broken the habit of referring to you as 'my' god."

Once again, just like the first time, Teyvat seems to overwhelm you with his feelings. You stare at his back as his lips murmur the words of devotion without an end in sight. Silently, you accept his offering, this first one was only to put the last nail in the coffin of you being an oracle. 

The sky darkens as Zhongli's hand crumbles into a pile of primogems that dissolve into the air. Blue and purple stars dance across the sky as a lone gold star makes its way closer. 

You didn't plan to always accept his offerings. After all you did lose a 50/50 to him and was forced to put up with his paranoid possessiveness in regards to your creator self. Shouldn't you make him lose a few times to even the score?

The gold star shines brighter and bigger as Zhongli gazes at it with a smile purer than anything he's ever felt since his creation at your hands. It flies through the window enveloping him and the whole room with a beaming light.

--------------

When his eyes open, the skylight shows the sunny sky but he can already feel his connection to you stronger. The brilliance you bore shines beautifully in him like a star he wished to keep hidden for only him to see.

It worked, it worked! There is no need for him to be wary or envious of you for claiming to be so close to the creator anymore. In fact, you were a sign specifically designed for someone like him. A sign that the creator had not grown complacent in simply watching Teyvat, you were now showing interest in coming back soon. And through you, he can find out details about the creator that were kept secret all these millennia.

A wide and joyful grin is bared with obsession tangling within it. He turns his head to where you stood and his smile drops abruptly when all he's greeted with is an empty spot. 

He built this temple for him and the creator to enjoy in privacy due to his possessive nature born from his dragon lineage, yet the sight of Y/N who up and vanished after fulfilling their duty struck his core like the abyssal gunk that used to constantly corrupt his body.

You may have left, you may think that he wouldn't treat you, a fellow devoted servant well due to his earlier behavior. And he understands that, he truly does but that simply means he has to rectify his mistake before it's too late. You were a mere human while him, a god. 

Finding you before any terrible consequences from his mistakes won't take too long.

-------------------

Unaware of the dragon's changing tune, you eye the Dragon-Queller tree from outside the temple with interest. After all the work you've done thus far, indulging yourself with a nice close up of the magnificent landmark would be a good treat for yourself.

This one took a while and it was edited by the same jerk. I really hope all the work was worth it and that the next part can be done faster. But as my college is starting this early Sep, it might be even longer. Genshin's lore is a hot mess so I tried my best to keep it simple while touching on the important parts. All the lore I put in is almost completely accurate. If you don't include the sagau parts. If your name is italic then that means I couldn't tag you. I manually put everyone so hopefully this fixes the notifications problems. Taglist: @vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @sielt, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @conspicuous-mayonnaise, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zenith, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @zhonglisfruityass, @mer0n37, @victoria1676, @mochinessss, @sinnful-darling, @emilymikado, @pix-stuff, @esthelily, @luxie963, @emmbny, @millienolife, @kbar1013, @xxblackroses623xx, @chxrlxtteee, @aludicpoet, @yandematic, @atrcclovsxoxo, @0lshadyl0

#whisp's amateur work #genshin impact #genshin sagau #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #yandere sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau oracle au #genshin cult au #sagau cult au #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere zhongli #sagau #yandere morax #yandere rex lapis

[zeestarfishalien]

Unwanted Farewells

[Day 5 DPxDC Week: Jason Todd // Soulmate AU // Funeral Rites ]

• Anger Management ship (Jasmine Fenton x Jason Todd) No relevant warnings beyond the usual DP stuff

Jazz has always had it the worst. Danny might have been the one to die but Jazz is the one who lost not only her soulmate, but her little brother too. It doesn’t matter that he’s still around, he knows the grief weighs on her sometimes. She overcompensates by being a massive mother hen and general pain in the neck but he tries not to get too upset with her about it.

With Dani with an “i” fresh out of high school and Jazz’s birthday coming up soon, he wants to do something special. He spends a lot of time bribing Ghost Writer in order to research his idea out.

It’s probably the most time and effort he’s put into a project that wasn’t about space.

Proposing the idea to her is the one big thing this all hinges on. He’s not 100% sure she’ll be on board with this but he’d like to try.

And trying is what kicks off the first part of his plan. It’s a little awkward to bring up the fact that he doesn’t have a grave and would like one. It’s almost physically painful to see the grief it brings to Jazz’s eyes. She tries to hide it but Danny has always been able to read her better than he lets on. It’s part of the process though. He needs her to see how this goes and feels. How it’s a celebration of life and honoring those who have passed and not just a somber reminder to the living of what they’ve lost. He needs her to see what it means to him. And what it would mean to her soulmate.

He makes the grave marker of course. They’re not about to buy one when he has the strength and abilities to carve it out himself. He makes sure that it’s vague unless you know him. No names, no identifying markers like age or dates. It’s simple and meaningful for him.

{May he rest here between walks among the stars, our friend and brother beloved}

From there it’s pretty much all fun and games. Literally.

Same brings the games while she has Tucker pack out the food. It’s a combination of some of Grandma Ida’s homemade desserts and various junk foods. Even Tucker brings some cookies his mom helped him figure out how to make.

Jazz is in charge of the drinks while Danny and Dani handled all the decorating. It’s a combination of solidified ectoplasm, his ice, and various flowers they’ve gathered and strung together in a flower chain.

It’s a smashing success and he sees something in Jazz release. Some niggling worry or grief she carried that is no longer there.

Now, he decides, it’s time for part two.

What throws part two for a loop is when Dani with an “i” brings up that she’d like a grave and proper funeral rites as well.

It’s not a setback. Definitely not when he sees how much more relaxed and content Jazz is at Dani with an i’s wake.

It’s only a couple days from her birthday when he brings it up. The funeral practices for soulmates are as varied as they are sacred. He proposes her options via a PowerPoint he put far too many hours into.

By the time he finishes rambling, she’s got this sort of startled look on her face.

He twists his shirt in his hands as he stands awaiting her judgement. The longer she’s silent, the more convinced Danny is that she’ll reject the whole thing and not talk to him for a month.

Okay, maybe a week but still a week is a long time.

Suddenly Jazz is crying and oh ancients he’s really messed up this time. She’s not even mad just straight up upset by his offer.

But then she’s hugging him, telling him she loves him, and thanking him.

It’s not as hard as Danny feared to actually track down the location of a Jason Todd who died before Jazz reached 16 (she never wanted to look him up before, didn’t want to know what she was missing) and the day before her 25th birthday Danny, Dani, and Jazz all pile into her little car to make the drive to Gotham, homemade foods in tow.

Danny and Dani made sure to swipe one of Vlad’s special rich dude credit cards to fund their trip and the stop at multiple flower shops to get enough flowers to make flower chains and crowns for all of them.

It’s closing in on evening, the day of Jazz’s birthday when they finally roll up and upload everything. They didn’t bring any lights, but none of them really need much light to see for eating food and drinking sodas. Jazz brought some jasmine tea and an extra cup to place on Jason’s grave. They make a funky, dark evening of it, but finally Jazz grows more somber and keeps taking long looks at the gravestone so Danny and Dani decide to make themselves scarce.

They’re about halfway across the cemetery when out of the shadows steps the looming menace of Red Hood.

“The fuck are you doing at that grave?”

It’s not his voice or his tone, but the sub vocal ghost speak that makes Danny and Dani freeze up ramrod straight.

That’s a revenant and they’re trespassing on his resting place without permission.

So of course like any sane person, Danny says something stupid. But he just can’t believe out of all the ridiculous coincidences to exist in the world, that Jazz’s soulmate is undead like him seems just too far to believe.

“Jason?”

Almost late despite having the day off work bc I had to go shopping and bc of where I live, shopping is essentially a full day affair. This is shorter than I’d like it but I also kinda enjoy where it ends XD imagine their next moments however you please or feel free to add onto this.

#angermanagement #soulmateau #dpxdc #dcxdp #jazz/jason #dpxdc week 2023

[genericpuff]

I'm sorry, but this should come as a shock to absolutely no one.

Just a little bit of 'insider info' (and by 'insider' I mean I was a part of the beta testing crew a few years ago) Webtoons has been messing with AI tools for years. You can literally play test that very same AI tool that I beta-tested here:

Mind you, this is just an AI Painter, similar to the Clip Studio Colorize tool, but it goes to show where WT's priorities are headed. I should mention, btw, that this tool is incredibly useless for anyone not creating a Korean-style webtoon, like you can deadass tell it was trained exclusively on the imports because it can't handle any skin tone outside of white (trying to use darker colors just translates as "shadows" to the program, meaning it'll just cast some fugly ass shadows over a white-toned character no matter how hard you try) and you just know the AI wouldn't know what to do with itself if you gave it an art style that didn't exactly match with the provided samples lmao

And let's be real, can we really expect the company that regularly exploits, underpays, and overworks its creators to give a damn about the ethical concerns of AI? They're gonna take the path of least resistance to make the most money possible.

So the fact that we're now seeing AI comics popping up on Webtoons left and right - and now, an actual "Webtoon AI" branding label - should come as zero shock to anyone. Webtoons is about quantity over quality and so AI is the natural progression of that.

So yeah, if you were looking for any sign to check out other platforms outside of Webtoons, this is it. Here are some of my own recommendations:

ComicFury - Independently run, zero ads, zero subscription costs (though I def recommend supporting them on Patreon if you're able), full control over site appearance, optional hosting for only the cost of the domain name, and best of all, strictly anti-AI. Not allowed, not even with proper labelling or disclosure. Full offense to the tech bro hacks, eat shit.

GlobalComix - Very polished hosting site that offers loads of monetization tools for creators without any exclusive contracts or subscriptions needed. They do offer a subscription program, but that's purely for reading the comics on the site that are exclusively behind paywalls. Not strictly anti-AI but does require in their ToS that AI comics be properly labelled and disclosed, whether they're made partially or fully with AI, to ensure transparency for readers who want to avoid AI comics.

Neocities - If you want to create your own site the good ole' fashioned way (i.e. HTML / CSS) this is the place. Independently run, offers a subscription plan for people who want more storage and bandwidth but it only costs $5/month so it's very inexpensive, and even without that subscription cost you won't have to deal with ads or corporate management bullshit.

Be safe out there pals, don't be afraid to set out into the unknown if it means protecting your work and keeping your control as a creator. Know your rights, know your power.

#webtoons #webtoons critical #hosting recommendations #anti AI #fuck ai

[nanaminsmoon]

literally perfect again 10/10!! i agree the girls do need a part 2 that’s jus what they saying idk

-🪩

sooo~~this is longer than i wanted it to be and it's really eren focused but here she is😁

pt.1

cw: ony x eren x black fem!reader, perv!eren, face+throat fucking, unprotected sex (stay safe guys), spit kink, ony calls reader; 'ma', 'my sweet girl', and he also calls eren 'good boy', ony calls himself 'daddy' eren is literally OBSESSED with them cheeks, yeah this just a mess.

cw: 3358

”bruh you know i didn’t mean it like that”, was a simple apology for many complicated actions. to ony’s mind, it was understood as an apology for the comment eren had made at ymir’s house. but eren knew better. to him, it was an apology for the late nights and early mornings he had spent fucking into his hand, playing back the videos ony had sent him of your back arched as you cried out his name into the couch beneath you. or the ones of you sat on ony’s face, riding it like you did his dick not too long before. every single one of them had been sketched out lightly, in the centre of eren’s pupils, then redrawn in permanent ink in the back of his mind. for days now, his four walls had been subjected to their owner’s moans bouncing off them, filling his living space to the brim, only to leak out of his open windows. he told himself he’d stop, but by the time his brain had gotten a proper reign on his sense, his hand was covered by his first load, and his phone screen had taken the brunt of his second. there was one particular close up of your cheeks from the back that made eren lose it; it drove him to such extreme immersion that his brain made him believe that you were really in front of him. and by the time he could properly discern that you weren’t, his phone screen was covered. yet, he could still see the banner sliding down it to notify him that ony had sent him another message. he had expected to be cussed out, but what he got was worse: ”come to our place tomorrow. 5pm.”.

eren didn’t even have to knock on the door, as it was left slightly ajar. the key still being in the lock told him that you guys couldn’t even wait to get inside before you started doing whatever had distracted you. not that he could blame ony; if you were his, he’d never be able to take his hands off you either. hiding that fact was easy when there were other people around, but doing so when it was just the three of you would be difficult. so eren’s hand just lingered over the door handle, contemplating just turning around and walking away. but, amidst the anxious thoughts, eren could hear skin slapping and guttural moans. maybe ony hadn’t anticipated him being so on time, maybe you guys had lost track of time. or maybe, just maybe, this was all part of ony’s plan to get back at him. eren thought this whole thing started, and ended, with his one sly comment. unbeknownst to the fact that, since that night, ony had caught on to the way eren looked at you differently; his eyes lingered longer on exposed skin, he reacted more at subtle touches, and he was a lot quieter around you. that amused him more than anything, so he proposed something to you. and you had agreed.

twisted thoughts of your body covered in sweat, and lustful bruising, became life unravelling realities, when eren opened the door and was greeted by the back of ony’s head. the front of it, directly facing your bouncing tits. neither of you had noticed him walking in until he closed the door. something only ony reacted to, turning his head to smirk at the man stood at the front of your home. if those videos had piqued eren’s interest, ony wanted it to plummet. and he was about to do that by finally satiating eren’s curiosity.

”sit.”, ony nodded towards the dining table chair he had placed in front of the couch. separation from your naked body bouncing on your boyfriend’s dick, and eren’s flustered eyes came in the form of a coffee table and wavering self-control. once sat, eren tried to distract himself with thoughts of anything that wasn’t whatever was happening in front of him, and all ony could do was scoff at him.

”we’re over here”, ony muttered lowly, and the journey eren’s head took to turn from the ceiling to the scene in front of him was a slow one. its destination being one that wasn’t favoured, but once reached, he couldn’t help the way his emeralds flickered to the glistening white substance sat comfortably at the place where you and ony connected. subconsciously, the tip of eren’s tongue slid across his bottom lip before it went back into his mouth, his lip accompanying it. he had known better than to wear grey joggers, because even the sight of you made his dick twitch now. so he hoped that the decision to wear black ones instead would aid him in hiding his dick pulsating in his boxers. a thumb masquerading itself as just a means of ridding his thigh of an incessant itch, slid across his tip gently, sending a volt of electricity down eren’s spine as a result. all efforts to hide his arousal went down the drain as soon as ony’s mouth opened again.

”you think i invited you here to watch me fuck my girl?”, the lecherous veil over eren’s eyes lifted suddenly, his body shifting to sit up properly again, ”you said you was down, so come get her”, ony poked, and eren’s adam’s apple bobbed very slowly.

”the fuck are you talking about?”, he spoke out quietly, but he was still audible to ony’s ears. even over the sound of your ass cheeks clapping on his thighs.

”you said you was down for a threesome, didn’t you?”, ony stilled you to raise an eyebrow at eren, and eren just sunk back into his chair.

”i was kidding…”,

”and?”, ony’s head tilted in provocation. beams of the setting sun snuck through the gaps in your curtains to illuminate the coat of sweat covering your body, and the beads slowly forming on eren’s forehead. it was as if thinking of a response was causing him physical strain that only worsened when your hips began moving again,

”look at her, jaeger”, ony pouted at eren, his hand weaving through your jet black bundles to pull you back, place kisses on the top of your neck, and turn your face ever so slightly to face eren, ”she’s such a needy girl, and i can’t take care of her all by myself”, the pout on ony’s face would soon leave, its place taken by something more sinister.

eren’s internal conflict was visible on his face, and ony knew that all he had to do was play on the fantasies bred by those videos he had sent him. as boisterous and blithe as eren presented himself, ony knew the brunette before him was not used to someone like you. jokes about fucking you were made because eren knew that’s all they’d ever be; it was easy to make light of something that could never be within arms length of him. should he ever come in contact with someone like you, your jaw would unhinge, clamp around him, and leave him a hollow shell of what he once was. if not courage, ony wanted to at least test his friend’s resolve. and his hypothesis was that it was fairly weak.

”n-nah. i can’t”, eren stuttered, going to stand up before ony placed an ear-splitting smack on your ass, and your mouth produced coherent language for the first time since eren got there.

”’ren, p-please”, you whined out, neck starting to ache at the angle ony had your hair pulled back.

”don’t make her beg, eren”, ony’s pout was back as he taunted his friend, ”she just wants you, jaeger. give her what she wants”, ony’s words seemed to be a double-edged sword. but yours were so saccharine; escorted out of your mouth by the spit pooling at the corners of your lips. your plump, glossed lips that he knew would taste sweeter than his dreams would ever allow him to conceive. eren didn’t know what ony was planning, but he did know that if you were involved, then he would be as well. so he sat back down, hands rested on his thighs, as his legs sat spread.

for a few minutes, all he did was watch; his eyes transfixed on how well you took your boyfriend. from what eren had observed, ony would have to pause every once in a while and mumble something about how tight you were. hatching thoughts in eren’s mind about stretching you out on the very couch he had seen your face pressed into, as ony fucked the air out of you. he daydreamed of your walls hugging him until he came on your back and ass cheeks, instead of his phone screen. he didn’t even realise, but the thumb that had rubbed his tip had been substituted for his palm—rubbing circles on his dick, as his hips would buck up into it every now and again.

”how it look from back there, eren?”, ony smirked, and eren couldn’t think of a single thing to say. ony’s hands would grab and knead at your ass cheeks, spreading them to show eren just how well you took him. the image alone made eren’s central nervous system break down, causing his head to fall back to lean onto the back of the dining chair.

”shit, i’m cumminggg”, you mewled, and eren’s hands pressed harsher into his throbbing dick.

”it’s okay, ma, daddy’s got you”, ony kissed your forehead; the gentle affection was reserved for above his neck because, below that, he was fucking up into you ruthlessly. and you came around ony’s length, moaning his name as your forehead fell to his chest. this man had been fucking you for at least an hour now, and he had already finished inside you once, but he just wouldn’t stop.

”but you still have some energy for our guest don’t you?”, ony looked to you, and you just nodded weakly. to which he replied with a peck to your lips, before two of his fingers opened your mouth and rested on your tongue.

”come help my sweet girl, eren. her mouth is lonely.”, were the words that led to where you were now; on your knees on the couch with ony’s hands bruising your hips with his harsh grip, and eren’s tip inching deeper into your throat. his shirt was folded, and tightly between his teeth, as you sucked the soul out of this man. the way the wetness and warmth of your mouth enclosed around him, mixed with the palming he had been doing earlier, made it very hard for eren to keep himself together. the very second your lips had wrapped around his tip, he was ready to nut. but the view beneath him was not one to be taken in in passing. you were looking up at him so innocently, even though your mouth was far from that. he could only imagine what your pussy felt like, especially when ony would make snide comments like,

”i wish you could see what i’m seein’ right now”, closed off with a smug chuckle, just to get under eren’s skin. because he would never get to fuck you—as petty as ony was, he had a line, and that line was anything below your mouth. he had made it explicitly clear that eren was not to touch anything that wasn’t on your face. meaning he had free access to your mouth.

”you can be rough with her, she can take it”, ony had said, but eren just didn’t have it in him to recklessly fuck a face as pretty as yours. you could tell he was hesitant, because his hand had just been sat on the side of your face the whole time. its only movements being his thumb stroking your cheek softly. so you picked up his other hand and put it on the other side of his face. now he was cupping it, and you looked up at him, bottom lip puckered out slightly to say;

”p-please ‘ren”, you cooed, ”please f-fuck my throat”, and those words sealed your fate.

because the next time eren would enter your mouth, he wouldn’t be as gentle as he once was. he would barely give you a chance to adjust to what was happening before he was fucking into your throat; one hand on either side of your face, as ideas of what your pussy would feel like instead ran rampant in his mind. from that moment onwards, there was no one in that room but you—and even you were disappearing as his sole focus rested on your mouth and throat.

”i see why ony don’t let nobody near you now”, he grunted out, and ony just smirked at him, ”i wouldn’t wanna fucking share you with nobody neither”, he muttered. so lost in you, he didn’t know what he was saying. but his words worked wonders on you, making you wetter than you already were and aiding ony. his thrusts became rougher because of how wet you were, and they both developed a rhythm; ony’s thrusts would push you to take more of eren in your throat. and eren’s delirium would travel to his hips, making him push himself into you harder, bouncing you back onto ony’s hip bone. the back and forth tightened the coil in your stomach until one more meeting of ony’s tip and your cervix made that pleasure spring out into every limb in your body. tears from your overwhelming orgasm, and eren harshly abusing your throat, fell profusely. only ever having been with one man at one time, the sensations pinballing you in every direction made your body numb. the only thing you could do being trying to voice how good you felt. but your moans were muffled by eren’s dick in your throat. but their vibrations sent his senses into overdrive.

so in the heat of the moment, he reached a hand over to grab at the ass cheeks he’d been fantasising about for days. but ony’s hand beat him to it, smacking the brunette’s hand away. it was only then that eren was catapulted back into reality,

”the fuck you think you doin’?”, ony’s words were short, but they were intimidating enough for eren to murmur out a ‘sorry’. and once that earth shattering nut settled and you regained your bearings, you pulled eren out of your mouth, and tapped his tip on your tongue. that’s when he felt a weird feeling in his chest. and that feeling would roll down to his stomach, doubling in on itself as it did so, until he felt like he was making a mistake by looking that deep into your eyes. incandescent and doe-like, they twinkled up at him as you opened your mouth, only to stick your tongue out. it took eren a second to connect the dots, but once he did, he shook his head at you.

”why~?”, you whined, and he just shot a look at the man behind you to which you replied, ”it’s fine, ony said to give me what i want. and this is what i want”, eren wasn’t about to argue with you, especially not on something he wanted so bad. so his hand would grab your face, before a string of spit hung down to your tongue. he wouldn’t even have to tell you to swallow it, you just did it on your own accord, and he felt some of the nut that had been so desperately trying to hold back, leak out a little bit. he felt his release edging closer at the sight of fluid dripping down your chin. just knowing that it was a culmination of his precum, your spit, as well as his own, made his dick pulsate. hands would, once again, find themselves rested on either side of your face, as his hips began fucking it again. but faster than last time.

if he could have it his way, eren would just fuck your face for a few more minutes, before having to trouble his mind with where the fuck he was meant to nut. because ony obviously wouldn’t allow it to be on your face, so where would it go?? but, those troubles came quicker than he’d hoped and, unaware of his stress, your hands moved to stroke his dick as your mouth focused on his sensitive tip. eren’s hips only hastened, his loud moans and whines only meaning one thing,

”fffuck, i’m gonna cum”, he groaned out.

”not in her mouth you’re not”, ony scolded, his eyebrows scrunched as his own nut was within arms reach. and eren just looked to him with extreme confusion on his face.

”thennnghh where, ony?”, he whined out, looking down at your lips still latched onto his throbbing tip.

”be a good boy and get a tissue or somethin’.”, his eyes locked with his friend’s was not how eren imagined this ending. so, as pissed as he was with ony’s self-satisfied suggestion, he had to listen to him and pull himself out of you before snatching a few tissues from the tissue box on your coffee table. with your mouth wrapped around him, his release would’ve been imminent, but now using his hands wouldn’t be enough for him. that was until, a gentle hand grabbed at his wrist, putting two of his fingers inside your mouth and sucking on them the same way you had been sucking his dick a few moments away. all while maintaining eye contact. knowing what that felt like around his dick, was enough for eren to nut into the tissues, abs tensing as he hunched over slightly.

”shit, y/n.”, was all he said before taking a few deep breaths. he’d sit on his heels for a few moments before standing up to clean himself off, and get rid of the tissues.

when he came back, more tissues in hand and cleaning himself off, he was greeted by the scene of ony just nutting all over your ass cheeks and back. eren had to bite his lip to stop him from moaning out at the face you made looking over your shoulder; coquettish eyelashes fluttering as you looked at the man behind you. his hands hadn’t stopped moving, but they were no longer cleaning. and he didn’t even notice the change until that familiar feeling in his dick returned. and luckily his reflexes were fast enough, otherwise he would’ve just nutted all over the floor. his whole body leant on one of your loveseats, as his teeth stamped a red line underneath his bottom lip.

”fuck”, eren spoke under his breath, his head finally rose to lean back on his shoulders.

”the fuck are you still doin’ here?”, ony grumbled out and, with the little strength you had left, you slapped him lightly.

”be nice”, you chided gently, and ony scoffed, grabbing some tissues from the box to wipe up the nut on your back.

”i just let him face fuck my girlfriend, how much nicer can i get?”, ony then got up to put the shirt he had discarded on your body, before putting his boxers on, and walking over to eren.

”imma run her a bath and, when i come back, you better be gone”, ony began walking to the bathroom, only taking ten steps away from his friend before pausing, and turning around, ”and eren?”,

”hm?”,

”you tell anyone about this and i really will kill you”,

© Rights owned by nanaminsmooninc. Do not repost without permission.

#nanaminsmooninc #aot x black reader #aot x black y/n #onyankopon x black reader #ony x black y/n #aot onyankopon #ony x black reader #eren x black reader #eren x black fem!reader #eren smut

[lunarin64art]

Underrated Parallel

These two duos are actually so similar, it’s surprising that the fandom hardly acknowledges it. 

 First off, both of these duos are shown to both spend time investigating together in private. (Gonta and Ouma mainly doing so in chp2) While also sharing the dynamic of one being hyper intelligent, mysterious, as well as having a lack of trust in their classmates, and the other being more naive yet enthusiastic. There’s also of course the fact that they both share the same color scheme. (Toko and Komaru also share similar qualities as well but that’s for a different post.)

 Naegi and Gonta also have alter egos included in their executions. And were both unconcious during the events leading to their investigations/trials.

Also, if you let Kirigiri be found guilty, both her and Ouma die from being squished by a press...(on chp5)

Then lastly, they’re similar in that Kirigiri and Ouma used Naegi and Gonta to survive so that they could defeat the mastermind.

 As a side note, I’m surprised that there aren’t many people who acknowledge how similar what Ouma did to Gonta in chp4 is to what Kirigiri did to Naegi in chp5. It’s especially weird how people will claim that gontouma is toxic because of chp4 but then see nothing problematic about naegiri. Like, I get that Ouma comes across really rude and aggressive on chp4 but that was on purpose to make everyone vilify him. 

 He never treats Gonta the way he did on chp4 on any other part of the game. He’s almost too nice to Gonta in some instances (specifically on the jpn version since the NISA translators ruined Ouma’s character). Also, Ouma’s motivations for what he did were much more selfless than Kirigiri’s. You can’t even really say he did this because he saw his life as more important than Gonta’s as he immediately locks himself in his room and plans his own death afterwards.

(Which correlates with how the writers decided to make Gonta/Ouma be the only ones to like the Survival Flag and the Death Flag. As it imo implies that Ouma gave up on survival once he knew that Gonta no longer could because of him)

 I also find it strange how there are still people who actually think that Ouma didn’t care about Gonta. That was legitimately one of his most obvious lies in the entire game. His end talk with Kaito wouldn’t make any sense otherwise, nor his interactions with Gonta on TDP and DRS. I really do think that people need to play V3 more than once to to get a proper understanding of their actual dynamic though.

 (And not through letsplays since they will give you their own biases.)

#danganronpa #new danganronpa v3 #danganronpa v3 #kokichi ouma #ouma kokichi #kyoko kirigiri #gonta gokuhara #makoto naegi #naegiri #ougoku #gontouma #dr1 #ndrv3 #danganronpa spoilers #ndrv3 spoilers #trigger happy havoc #killing harmony #it's also important to keep in mind that gonta only has caveman speech on the eng ver #which really changed the way eng players saw chp4 as it made people subconciously think that Gonta was too dumb to be aware if the was #manipulated or not #which is really annoying as it takes away from his final attempt to prove that he could be a gentleman #by taking full responsibility for his own actions #god this rant was longer than expected....srry #this was meant to be a short post about naegiri/gontouma parallels but it ended up being all about gontouma again lol #my bias is showing hghjhkhjhk #both of these ships are great but I can't help but like gontouma more as it feels like a more chaotic and angsty version of naegiri

[ma1dita]

liar, liar

part two cn be found here-> truth be told

words: little under 2k

summary: sirius black is a good liar. spot how many times sirius lies in this fic.

warnings: slight nondescript smut!! errr cursing & another self-deprecating marauder, mostly unrequited love/being led on, sirius’s trauma response, fem!reader is too good for sirius, fem!reader has ‘i can fix him’ complex

a/n: guys… i thought of this prompt and the necklace Alex Russo wore in WoWP and suddenly, complex by katie gregson-macleod started playing so…sorry if this gets sadder.

(posted 9/8/23 & edited 11/6/23)

—

At the very core of him, Sirius Black is a liar. 

It’s not directly his fault, but a subliminal result of the loveless household he grew up in. Lies roll off his experienced tongue more naturally than when he’s ever tried to say I love you. So he’s convinced himself that it’s easier to live life this way, without love. If love ever fell into his hands, he’s not quite sure what he’d do with it. 

If Sirius Black could be defined, he thinks it would lack the word love and instead encompass a lot of his anger. Fiery, palpable anger, deep set in his core. That’s what he is. There are a lot of things to be angry about in this life, after all.

—

You’re 16 and this birthday party might’ve been your best idea yet. Your friends are dotted around your dorm room, along with some people you’ve invited from your classes. Among the forming crowd, you spot one Sirius Black. You don’t talk much outside of being Potions partners, and you get by with smiles in the halls and friendly touches. He’s looking at you from across the room like he knows you intimately, but that is far from the truth. Sirius Black is an enigma if anything, but what’s more unusual to you even after three shots of firewhiskey is the fact that he doesn't have any of his friends in tow. He meanders around the open space before circling back towards your direction as if that wasn’t his plan in the first place.

“Trouble in paradise?” you joke, gesturing to the space his posse would usually occupy behind him. He scoffs, avoiding the question, giving you a proper kiss on the cheek instead as he loops his arms around your waist. It piques your interest; you’ve always loved a challenge.

“Happy birthday, gorgeous.”

Sirius is handing you a small jewelry box, and you look at him dumbfounded. You’re barely even friends.

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Black. I just called you over to get drunk with me and my mates.” You giggle, cheeks red from the alcohol.

It’s a necklace. A magical, really expensive one. Sirius is gauging your reaction, scratching the back of his neck. It’s easy to put a price to something rather than show you all of his cards.

“Well, aren't I special? This is too much, Black. I shouldn’t…” Your soft hands are pushing the box into his impenetrable wall of a chest as you shake your head in disbelief. No one’s ever gotten you something this nice or expensive before. You wonder if he does this to all the other girls that fawn over him.

“It’s nothing. I insist. You keep me distracted in Slughorn’s class and for that, you get a prize just as pretty as you.” He’s holding your wrists now, rubbing them casually like this isn’t the most intimate encounter you’ve had with him yet. Somehow you can sense that he needs this more than you do. To be needed. He doesn’t want to tell you that you’re the only one making him smile nowadays since his friends haven’t talked to him in weeks. You indulge in this behavior, because it’s new and exciting, and who would say no to Sirius Black?

The party ends much later after you tease him until his wit’s end, and then it’s your whispered approval that moves him to move his body over yours, the rest of your clothes quickly flying off in his pursuit to become a part of you. Physically and metaphorically, his being overtakes you quickly. Deep into the night, when he’s fucking you into your mattress, the necklace he gave you swings back and forth against your chest with every thrust of his hips, every bump of the headboard against the wall thumping the final nails into the coffin. You can’t help but feel special as he lays kisses on your spine. You know this isn’t intimacy in Sirius’ world though. This isn’t love, it’s bodies yearning for connection, to find something meaningful. To string the words to define how to pass the time. You hope he finds what he’s looking for between your sheets and as he breathes into your hair.

Sirius is angry at the world and he’s chosen you to be his target. What color on your necklace can define the fact you wanted him to fuck you brainless anyways? What can accurately portray the shaking of his hands as he slaps the fat of your thighs? Both of you don’t remember, but all he knows is your naked bosom is glowing amber as you pant, and it looks and feels like you’re on fire. Lust has a way of consuming the body, both of you moving until you cannot anymore, anatomy animated by the need for touch.

He needed this, a distraction. And you just wanted a crazy story to tell. You keep note of the fact that Sirius likes it when you moan his name, and he makes it his mission for you to scream the name he grew up hating because it sounds pretty coming from your mouth. Because here in this room, it means something other than disappointment.

“Oh my god, baby, right there!”

“Don’t call me that. I’m not your baby.” he pants, pulling your hair roughly as he jackhammers into you. No pet names or endearments are allowed. Just Sirius, and he’ll correct you if you get it wrong. By the end of it, you’re slurring your words and screaming nonsense anyway. You think nothing of it.

He wants you as much as you’ll have him, which, when you’re 16, you think can be made a priority just to keep his eyes on you. Everyone wants a piece of Sirius Orion Black. And your hands are stretched out in hopes of partaking in this transaction of physicality and sin. Weeks later, after you seemingly fall asleep in the boys’ dorm, James asks Sirius if you’re his girlfriend. “She’s…alright,” he mumbles into the air. They’ve finally forgiven him for The Prank after your urges to get Sirius to swallow his ego. He never got to thank you for it. Gratitudes and endearments were a rarity at Grimmauld Place. 

Peter whispers in the dark of their dorm and asks Sirius if he could ever fall in love with you. With your eyes closed and your head lying against his chest, you feel him shrug as he traces a hickey he left on your collarbone. What is love to Sirius Black? He’s looking at your chest glow red, and his hand clutches the pendant in his fist, trying to dim its light. You go to sleep instead. The incandescent glow of the pendant seeps beneath your eyelids.

—

You’re 19 and sometimes you wonder if it’d be easier to be dead. Good days are a relief for all to have, presenting themselves as scarce and far apart in your new normal. There’s a war going on and you think it’s criminal to consider yourself adult enough to fight in it, but you and your friends–and your boyfriend do. You sleep in Sirius’ apartment more than your own now, but he never calls you his girlfriend, he just calls you his, and you convince yourself to not worry so much about it because death itself is coming for everyone you know. You’re together, and that’s what matters, right? There are bigger problems at hand.

Between Auror missions, Sirius has a bad habit of picking fights with you in front of your friends, which now include his friends. A lot of you comes from him, which you don’t resent. They’re lovely, but they see through the struggle. They know him too well, and you go to every gathering with an inkling that they know how mean Sirius can truly be. Old habits die hard. Tonight he yells at you because you won’t let him get a fifth beer. 

“Always thinking you know better than me, (Y/N). You’re not my fucking wife, so I don’t need to listen to you! No one wants to hang around a killjoy.”

He wrenches his grip from your thigh, nearly toppling your chair over to stomp over to the bar himself. Everyone stares at you, waiting for you to react before they judge. Before they defend their friend. His behavior has been erratic lately with his world crumbling as he knows it. But then again, Sirius has never known life without chaos.

“I know it’s not… ideal. But he’s a good guy. We’re all just going through shit right now. His brother’s missing, so I’m there when he needs me.”  Which is always, you omit from your response. You don’t mind being needed though. Helping him fight his demons is a part of being in a relationship with someone so damaged. You bring him light when his mind darkens. That is not transactional. It’s something deeper, though the words dissipate before either of you can utter it at night.

Lily reaches over the table to hold your hand, with Remus pulling his arm around the back of your chair, and rubbing your shoulder. Your chest is still glowing red, your love for him triumphing over any embarrassment he’s caused you. How you feel has always been clear, evident on your chest. What a weakness to have, to lay yourself bare to him and you wonder if Sirius did it on purpose.

He gets piss drunk as you expected and you have to side-apparate him home while you insist to everyone else that they should stay and have fun. They’re not as easily convinced, but you bid them farewell anyway. You get to the apartment and Sirius mumbles a ‘thank you’ as you help him take his clothes off and you gently tuck him under the covers, kissing him goodnight. Small moments like these are tender. They say more than anything you could put into words.

Moments later, you pretend to not hear Sirius cry, but his chest is heaving and the sound coming from his throat is so gut-wrenching that you lift yourself out from under him where he was weeping into your shoulder. In the dark, your eyes adjust to find his face in the moonlight.

“Sirius?” you breathe, fingers ghosting over the tears on his face. 

“He’s dead.” he whimpers. You’ve never seen Sirius Black let himself be vulnerable like this. Not to the Marauders, and especially not to you. There’s no carnal aspect in sorrow, though it leaves one gutted, worn down to the bone.

“My baby brother is dead, and no one knows. I don’t even have a body to mourn over.” 

He chokes back a sob, and you let his arms shroud your body, leaving the red glow of your pendant trapped between both of your ribs. You hope some of the light and some of your love seeps into him. You have plenty to give, and it’s all his for the taking, if only he’d let you.

Sirius falls asleep hours later, and you’re pinned to the bed underneath him. There’s a crick in your trapezius that you try to ignore as you stroke his hair. Maybe in his dreamless state he can find peace. You close your eyes and wonder if Regulus has found solace in death. Maybe it would feel something like this.

—

You’re 21 and most of your good friends are dead or in hiding. It’s the night before Halloween, but there’s not a lot to celebrate if real life is much scarier now.

Over the years, Sirius and you have come to an understanding. He’s flawed, with a viciously large ego and oftentimes he’s mean when he doesn’t know how to react. But he’s human. He tries now, more than ever to quell the anger born in the Black name. He tries to be gentle, though the instinct to hurt is in his blood. You’re patient, and resilient enough to take the blows, knowing what you feel is deeper than his anger, often revealing itself as his darkest fears. You like him ‘because’ and love him ‘despite’. Your cue to comfort him is usually right before he gets the look on his face that tells you he’ll say something knowing it’ll make you cry. You’ve always loved him, but now you know why. Sirius wonders every day how you’re still with him. He’s a runner, but since the day you’ve met him, you haven’t quite let go of his hand.

Usually instead of an apology, he’ll usually fuck you to oblivion, making sure your legs shake and your brain is jumbled enough to not talk about the hurt he causes you. He strokes the fire in you, and the feeling of anger that continually wracks his being can only be satiated by your touch. His skin on yours is the best place to be, but maybe there’s a part of you that likes the hurt, his anger. It's almost passionate, the only emotion he knows how to express well. You love him in a way that only you can, despite all of that. But it all blurs when he kisses you, consumes you. You especially like it when he pulls your hair.

You shriek as you come down from a release, hands rubbing the expanse of his chest. His thrusts slow as he grapples with reality, pawing at your breasts. Your hips milk him for his worth, and he groans lowly.

“You’re too good to me, wife. You’re all mine.” 

Your ministrations come to a stop as you look down at him, pendant hanging between your faces. Nicknames were a growing commodity lately.

“Wife, huh…”

The air is heavy between you two, still connected as one while you wait for his response. Let him take the lead, as it’s the role he’s more accustomed to.

“If that’s okay.” he breathes, not knowing what to do with his hands. Love has fallen into his hands, and her physical form is sitting in his lap. His grip eases as he accepts you wholly.

“Maybe someday soon.” 

A slow smile stretches across your face. 

“Ask me properly and I’ll consider.” But the glow of your necklace is more vibrant now, and you two both know your answer as he grabs your waist and pulls you down for another round.

Sirius tries to sneak out of bed in the early morning as you doze off. You wake, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, bare feet padding across your shared apartment in search of him until you see him dressed in the kitchen and holding a letter. 

“I have to go… deal with some business,” he mutters, not stepping away from the window nor sparing you a glance. Lying to someone he loves is harder than he thought it would be.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” You’re standing in the doorway wearing his shirt and his boxers. He likes it when you say his name. You could call him anything you want and he’d come running.

“James and Lily, they’re in trouble. I’ll be back by morning.”

You turn to grab your wand, planning to go with him, but he’s suddenly grabbing your arm and pulling you into a kiss, stopping your advances. He has something to lose now. You’re his, and he’ll be damned to let you follow him blindly into danger.

“You have to stay here. Everything will be okay,” he says, holding your chin. The lie sits heavy on his tongue. Maybe if he focuses he’ll see the rose-tinted hue of your irises every time he shuts his eyes.

“You’re scaring me...” You look at him in apprehension, his movements erratic and you wonder if he’s cracked and needs an exorcism. Then your heart is thundering in your chest and the red glow turns ice blue. A new feeling has taken a larger form than your love, and its fear. Briefly, you wonder how Sirius lives on edge like this. Something is dangerously wrong. He looks into your eyes, and then the cold glow on your chest. He takes a slow step back away from you, looking almost apologetic.

“Sirius Black, don’t you fucking dare.”

“I love you.”

He’s apparated and long gone before you register what he said. It sounded unfamiliar coming from his mouth, but you weren’t surprised. It was something you’ve always known. You just didn’t think that hearing it would hurt this badly.

—

The doors of the dreary prison cell screech shut in Azkaban. Visiting hours are over, and Sirius hadn’t left his space the whole two hours you waited outside in hopes of seeing him.

Tossing the lunch you packed into the bin as you push through the exit door for the last time, you think that killing him would’ve been easier than this, but he is not the victim in this story. You at least hope he got your package, as you think that maybe you could find a different adventure now, one that doesn’t involve having your feelings splayed across your chest for a murderer to come in and kill you dead. What a fool, to know someone so intimately, so innately, and for him to be a killer.

The envelope is slid under his cell door, and he opens it slowly. The necklace. Sirius sighs, and he wonders if you’ll finally let him go. It’s what you deserve anyway, now that he’ll rot in here for the rest of his life for a crime he didn’t commit. He’s hurt you enough that even if he did tell you everything, there’s a chance you wouldn’t believe him. No one does, after all. The cool silver of the chain makes goosebumps rise on the back of his neck as he slips it on. Red. 

With all the time in the world to think, he realizes that he can easily be defined by the sound of your voice calling his name. He’s called many things now besides a liar; a murderer, a deranged madman, a traitor. The only definition of himself he prefers now is one where he is described to be loving you. There are a lot of things to love about you, after all. He spends days, weeks, months, years, keeping track. He finds new ones every time he closes his eyes.

But Sirius Black is first and foremost a liar, and if there’s anything he’s sure of, is that he’s damn good at it.

—

“You say you love rain

but you open your umbrella.

You say you love the sun

but you find a shadow spot.

You say you love wind

but you close your windows.

This is why I am afraid

when you say you love me.”

William Shakespeare

love me some tunes! i listened to this while writing: complex by katie gregson-macleod

taglist: @jsjcue

#sirius black x reader #marauders x reader #sirius black x reader angst #sirius black x reader smut #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #marauders era #made by ma1dita ♥︎ #Spotify

[thebiggerbear]

Follow Me Into the Dark Part 1 - Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: The last person you expected shows up on one of the worst days of your life. Why on earth is Dean Winchester here and why is he asking you about your connections to the deceased?

A/N: Here we are. Part 1. This was what I originally intended for the "Sleep. I"ll keep you safe" prompt response but I ended up changing it because this felt too long to simply be a prompt response or even a one shot and I couldn't bear to cut it down to try to make it fit. It felt like the more it took form as I wrote, the more it deserved a proper fleshing out. So, alas, a short story. It's just an idea that I really had to explore. Not gonna lie, this might get a little dark. Hope this is alright.

Dividers are by @firefly-graphics,

This would be taking place during season 15.

All unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

Warnings: implied familicide; implied deaths of children; angst; heartbreak; grief; language (I guess?)

Word Count: 4814

Series Masterlist

You sat in the pristine living room and stared at the coffee table as people milled around you. You could hear the hushed whispers of mourning for them, pity for you, and worst of all, judgment and condemnation of him. If you could, you’d throw each and every one of them out of this house right now. But it wouldn’t change the fact that they were gone. Every single one of them…gone.

You glanced up and caught sight of a framed picture of your niece holding onto her baby brother, smiling wide for the camera. You would never get to hold either of them again, chase Thea around the house and hear her squeals of laughter, tickle Tanner’s belly to hear those happy gurgles that only a baby could make — never again. A tear slipped from your eye that you quickly wiped away. 

You were just about to get up and head into the kitchen to try to escape the harpy on your right, loudly whispering about how she’d always known something was off, when two tall men wearing suits entered your vision. Your eyes widened when you recognized one of them, and his expression mirrored your shocked one.

“Dean?” You asked in disbelief. You felt as if you had been sucker punched. Of course, on the absolute worst day of your life, he would show back up. The universe clearly had it in for you and wanted to destroy whatever little piece of you that was left. It had already brought you to your knees but that wasn’t enough. As if you weren’t already hollow inside…it wanted to finish the job.

The taller man to Dean’s left glanced back and forth between you. “Uh, do you two know each other?”

Dean looked at a loss for words for a moment but managed to answer with “You might say that.”

Seeing your face, Dean immediately looked apologetic. No, you couldn’t do this. Not today of all days. Not here, not now. “Right,” you muttered before making a hasty retreat to the kitchen as you’d planned to do prior to their arrival. You didn’t even bother looking back. Hopefully, Dean and his friend would just leave.

You busied yourself with doing the dishes; you figured you’d get a head start on them now. A kindly neighbor had offered to do them but you shook your head and took over, not saying a word. Thankfully, whoever had been in the room had vacated it, giving you your space. You were grateful because you weren’t sure if you could take one more “I’m so sorry, dear” or “Did you have any idea?” You threw yourself into the mundane chore, opting not to use the dishwasher next to you. You needed the distraction, to focus on something other than how you were broken inside. You did your best not to cry when you came across the coffee cup your sister-in-law had helped Thea to make for Father’s Day this year. It was similar to the “Best Aunt Ever” one they’d sent you for your birthday.

Several dishes later, you heard a quiet throat clearing behind you but you refused to turn around to look or stop what you were doing. You knew who it was; you’d practically felt him walk into the room.

“Listen, Y/N, I’m sorry if—”

“Why are you here?”

That question seemed to throw him off guard. Good. “I wanted to say I’m—”

“No,” You cut him off before he could finish saying the two words you now hated with a passion. God knows he’d said it enough to you before he’d left you in the dust back in Sedona. “Why are you here?”

“We— I mean, my brother and I, we were in town and—”

You spun around, your eyes wide. “That was Sam?”

He gave you a nervous yet proud smile. “Uh, yeah. That’s Sammy.”

After a moment, you nodded and went back to doing the dishes. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed that Dean had moved closer, looking unsure and slightly fidgeting. 

“So you… You knew the family?”

You stopped for a moment, thinking maybe you didn’t want to have this conversation that he seemed intent on having. You’d closed the book on him years ago and there was no reason to rehash any of it. It was the same old story anyway: girl meets boy; girl has incredible sex with boy; girl spends a few weeks holed up with boy; girl falls hard for boy and makes the mistake of telling him; boy immediately breaks her heart by telling her he doesn’t feel the same and then leaves girl behind to deal with the fallout of a shattered heart alone. Definitely nothing to rehash there. “You never answered my question. Why are you here?”

“Sam and I were in town and we just happened to see an article online about what happened.”

You huffed out a snort as you slipped another wet dish into the drying rack. “Article online about what happened…” 

“I meant that we—”

The anger that had been simmering all day suddenly started coming to the surface as you replayed his words over and over in your head. “Is that what you and Sam do? Look around for funerals to crash and poke around because you and your brother have some morbid curiosity you need to satisfy? To set up your next true crime podcast or YouTube channel? What?” 

“What? Podcast? No. That’s not what I—”

“You know what, Dean, I don’t even care. Just take your brother and get out. I have enough to deal with today without you screwing up my life yet again.” How dare he? He was definitely not the man you remembered. Or maybe he was; maybe he was the man who had used you and left you behind without once looking back.

He laid a gentle hand on your shoulder but that was it. “Y/N, I didn’t mean—”

You shirked his hand off. “Just go,” you yelled, feeling a sudden rush of fury charge through you. “That’s what you’re good at! Just leave, Dean, and don’t look back!” At the same time, the glass in your grip suddenly shattered, making you gasp as red rivulets began to run down your palm.

Dean was suddenly there with a dish towel, gently cradling your hand as he slowly pulled a small shard of glass out, making you hiss in pain. He then ran your hand under the water, eliciting another pained hiss, before wrapping the towel tightly around your hand. “There a first aid kit here somewhere?”

“In the bathroom, I think.”

Dean glanced over to where you gestured and nodded. “Alright, hold this tight and take a seat. I’ll be right back.” You did as he instructed, quietly thinking over what just happened. Dean was incredibly focused and on it, no hesitation, but that wasn’t what gave you pause. Where did that spike of anger come from? And more disturbingly, why did you have the strongest urge to throw that glass at him before it actually broke in your hand? You weren’t a violent person by any means; you never put your hands on another person, never had the urge to. Sure, you’d imagined slapping a guy that deserved it when he got too handsy while being an arrogant jerk one time but you never actually felt the burning impulse that you felt just before. You glanced over at the photo mug in the drying rack and tears sprang to your eyes as you felt your heart break yet again (how was there anything left to break at this point?) when you realized maybe you actually were that type of person after all. The very worst sort of person that had some darkness or bad inside them that was lying dormant waiting for the right victim to come along so you could unleash it on them.

You tried to shake the hopeless thoughts from your head. You knew that was your shock, grief, and misery speaking. Instead, you changed the lens to a logical one and began to explain away what had happened. Perhaps it had been Dean’s words or his very appearance. Or it could be what had happened and why you were here today. Or maybe it was even a combination of everything. The glass you had broken hadn’t been light, sure, but perhaps there had been a crack in it before that you hadn’t noticed. And it absolutely made sense that you were lashing out at Dean. He had shown up out of nowhere and began asking questions because of an article he’d read online, not even one of them being a simple ‘how are you?’. He hadn’t seen you in years and while he might not have known exactly who you were in relation to this situation, you were here for a funeral and you were washing dishes, everyone was trying to give you their condolences and watching you with pity — didn’t that account for something in his mind?

You didn’t have much more time to think on it when Dean suddenly reappeared with the first aid kit in hand. He laid it down on the table in front of you and slipped his jacket off, throwing it over the back of an empty chair. He quickly rolled up his shirt sleeves and took the seat next to you, gently taking your hand and carefully unfurling your fingers. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got.”

You watched as he studied the slice in your palm. “Not too deep,” he approved. He then began checking your skin for any other glass fragments or cuts. When he determined you were good, he began to soak a cotton ball with peroxide before turning a wide smile on you. “Did you hear the one about the priest and the cop?”

Your brows furrowed. He was now trying to make jokes? Seriously? Not to mention, no, you’d never heard of that one nor did you want to. “The priest and the—” You let out a loud hiss and you dug your teeth into your bottom lip. “Fuck,” you painfully whispered. 

You moved your gaze from the cotton ball being dabbed against your broken skin to Dean who was watching you intently. He gave you an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” he murmured.

“It’s fine,” you forced out as he continued to clean you up.

“So you didn’t tell me how you knew the family.” It was obvious he was trying to distract you from the painful stings of the ointment he was using but it also set your teeth on edge that he was still trying to get answers out of you that he wasn’t entitled to. 

When you didn’t respond, he glanced up at you expectantly.

Fine. Whatever. Let him judge along with all the others. I don’t care. It’s not like he matters to me anymore. “He was my brother,” you whispered.

Sure enough, his green eyes opened wide in surprise. “He was your brother?”

You gave a reluctant nod, choosing to glance around the room rather than look at him. 

“So the kids, they were…”

Your vision blurred slightly and you were unable to speak due to the lump that had been in your throat all day, making it hard to swallow. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from crying. You were resolved that you would not cry in front of anyone today, and you definitely would not cry in front of Dean Winchester. He’d seen enough of your tears back in Arizona.

You felt the movements on your hand cease altogether and you turned back to see the pity you’d been getting all day staring back at you. You hated it. “I’m so sorry.”

You nodded as if on autopilot and dropped your gaze back to your hand, waiting for him to finish so you could get out of here, away from him, away from the pity and the judgment that was sure to follow. He resumed the bandaging a moment later and you both spent the rest of the time in silence.

His brother’s appearance broke it. “Everything okay in here?”

Dean glanced up at you before looking at Sam. “Uh, yeah. Just a little accident but she’s good as new.” You saw him wince slightly at the words though he tried to hide it. That ticked your irritation a little higher though you had no idea why.

“May I?” Sam asked you, pulling out one of the empty chairs. At your subtle nod, he took a seat. You knew you should introduce yourself, finally officially meet the younger brother you’d heard so much about years ago, but you didn’t have it in you. You also weren’t surprised when Dean didn’t move to introduce you or that it was painfully obvious that he had never told Sam about you which just made you feel worse. It didn’t hurt, not in the way it would have back then, but it was like someone scratched a nail lightly along a long healed scar you had which would make you flinch slightly, hoping the nail would go away and forever leave the injury site untouched. Like a crater in the earth from a small asteroid; best to just leave it be and let nature take its course.

You flexed your hand as Dean put the dressings back into the kit. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Sam offered.

Feeling that autopilot mode come back into play, you mumbled, “Thank you.”

“I can’t imagine how tough this has been on you and your family.” You nearly snorted; what family? Perhaps they hadn’t noticed but you were it. “But if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to ask you a couple of questions about Scott and Leah.”

You briefly closed your eyes in pain at hearing their names, but not before you saw Dean’s head snap up to give Sam a look. “Not now.” He spoke in a tone that brooked no argument. 

Sam’s brows furrowed in confusion and he tilted his head questioningly, but remained silent.

You decided you’d had more than enough and you slowly got to your feet. Dean stood up as well, his hands reaching out to you as if to steady you, hanging in the air and unsure. You simply stared at him until he lowered his arms and compulsively swallowed. You spared a glance over at Sam and then turned to leave.

“Y/N.”

You stopped in your tracks but didn’t turn around. 

“Is there anything we can do? Anything you need?” Dean softly asked.

Anything they could do…anything you needed… You needed your family back, you needed to turn back the hands of time and get here sooner when Leah had called you out of the blue last week and begged you to come talk to Scott, saying he wasn’t acting like himself and she was worried. But since that didn’t appear to be an option, you simply shook your head and quietly answered, “Thank you for coming.” You then continued your trek out of the room, past the people who continued to offer you empty condolences or mutter statements like “They seemed like such a happy family”, and headed up the stairs, not caring in the least that you had a house full of people expecting you to be present so they could offer meaningless sympathies to someone. You ran to the bathroom and shut yourself inside it, sinking down behind the door and burying your face into your arms, hiding until everyone left and you could be alone again. You may have let out a few tears, a few quiet sobs, but no one would ever know.

…

“Dean, we can’t just leave her,” Sam tried to reason with his brother as they passed the crowd slowly making their way out of the home and headed towards the Impala. “We don’t even know what we’re dealing with yet.”

Dean pulled his keys out of his pocket, opening the back door of Baby to toss his jacket into. After you’d gone upstairs, he’d finished the dishes so you wouldn’t have to. He wouldn’t admit it to Sam but seeing the glass sticking out of your skin, you bleeding — it bothered him tremendously. It might have been a simple cut that had been easily patched up but it was you. It didn’t sit right with him just like this whole case hadn’t from the get go. 

He certainly hadn’t been expecting to see you after all of this time, while he was on a case of all things. He had hoped you were off living your life somewhere, happy as could be, in love, maybe have a kid or two — whatever you’d wanted. He had wanted you to have a normal life, a life untainted by the things that go bump in the night, something he would never get to experience himself. That was why he’d done the impossible and left you back in Sedona all those years ago. Granted, he’d been young and untethered and idiotic but those weeks he spent with you, those he would never forget. You were gorgeous, funny as hell, great in bed, you had a killer smile, and oh did you have one hell of a kind heart. You were a good girl with a wild streak who for some reason picked him though you could have had any number of guys knocking at your door. How could he not have fallen head over heels for you? And when you told him you loved him, being the first to say it between you, he’d felt something he never had before. When he was sixteen, he thought he knew what love was but boy had he been wrong.

Dean had wanted to stay with you back then, to hunker down and see where things went between you. After all, what would it hurt to put down roots for a little bit and not have to travel from motel room to motel room? To not have to sleep in the Impala for once? Besides, if Sam got to go to college and live his life, why couldn’t Dean do the same for a little while? It’s not like he would be quitting hunting or abandoning his dad to it alone, so why not? He may have only been 23 but he wanted to experience something he had always dreamed about but was told he would never have, and he wanted to experience it with you. Hell, you didn’t even need to stay in Sedona; you could settle down in Phoenix or Mesa or Tucson — or even travel to a different state. As long as he had you, he didn’t care where the two of you settled.

But of course, that had only been a dream, a momentary fantasy that felt real enough to almost touch before it was snatched out of his reach. John had called and demanded that he haul ass to Las Cruces to help him on a werewolf hunt, reminding him that he had an obligation to the family. Especially now that they were one man down thanks to Sammy’s big college adventure. Dean had tried to tell his father about you and the plan you both came up with, he really did, but John wouldn’t hear of it. The older man insisted it was infatuation, not the real thing, that he was too young to think about settling down, not to mention he was a hunter. And his dad scoffed when Dean mentioned that the way he felt about you reminded him of the stories John used to tell him and Sam about their parents meeting when they were young. He even proudly mentioned that you knew the words to every one of his favorite Led Zeppelin songs; he’d checked. He just knew John would love you if he’d be willing to meet you.

John then hit him with the truth that Dean had kept buried deep down and refused to acknowledge. If he stayed with you, you would never be safe. Even if he left hunting to be with you, you’d forever have a target on your back from every nasty evil thing he’d ever hunted. Just look at what happened to his Mary after she’d left hunting for a normal life. It followed her right up to Sammy’s nursery that night back in 1983 and killed her in front of his eyes. Dean’s own eyes had misted up as John’s words registered and from the silence, John knew he had been heard.

“Do what you have to do, son. I’ll see you in the morning.” The line clicked and Dean stared at the phone, a tear slipping down his cheek.

Needless to say, Dean had broken it off with you that very day, determined to ignore your tears and heartbroken pleas, knowing he was doing the right thing by you. He said what he knew you needed to hear, though it cut him up inside to say it. 

“I love you, Dean. Please,” you’d tearfully begged him. “Don’t leave.”

“I have to. I didn’t realize this was getting serious. I mean, we holed up together for a few weeks, we had some great sex, we had some laughs, some drinks, and a good time together, but that’s all it was ever going to be. You had to know that going into this, when you took me home from the bar that night. I’m pretty sure I even told you that I was only looking for a fun time while I was waiting for my next job. No strings attached because I’m just rolling through, remember?” 

As he watched the heartbreak play upon your face, he cowardly looked away as he rolled up his spare pairs of jeans and threw them into his duffel. If he looked at you, you’d see just how much you meant to him and just how much this was hurting him to have to do this to both of you.

“I’m 23 for Christ’s sake. I’m not looking to settle down, move in with a girlfriend, or get married and start cranking out kids. I want to live my life before I even start thinking about any of that crap.”

“But you said that you wanted to find a place together. You said you wanted to be with me. You said—” You whispered brokenly.

Dean’s jaw hardened and he turned away from you under the guise of grabbing his t-shirts and Henleys from the dresser drawer, shutting his eyes tightly. “It was just all talk. You know, us talking about what we’d do if our lives were different, what we’d want, like in a fantasy future. That kind of thing. I never actually meant any of it.” He heard the tiny gasp behind him and his fingers clenched around the material in his hands. Just get it done already. You’ve got work to do. The thought had been in John’s voice but Dean knew the thought was his own. He had to do this. He didn’t want to hurt you but he didn’t have any other choice. He couldn’t tell you why he had to leave and why he had to go without you. He couldn’t tell you that he was breaking your heart to keep you safe. He couldn’t admit that he was breaking his own so you could go and live a normal life, something he would never get to experience himself, so you could be happy after you forgot about him and dismissed him as a fun and wild lay that one time when you were young. That thought cut deeply into his chest and his resolve strengthened. No more drawing this out. You needed to let him go and move on; it was the only way to keep what he hunted in the shadows from ever touching you. 

“I didn’t think you did, either,” he forced out. Though he heard the beginning of a sob behind him in response, he made himself open his eyes and turned around to pack the rest of his stuff. He never allowed himself to look over at you to see the pain he’d inflicted on you; he heard it well enough.

Even when he threw his bags in the backseat of Baby and slammed the door shut, he refused to meet your wet gaze. He kept his hands glued to his sides, clenched in fists, because they itched to pull you into his arms for one last hug, for one last kiss to your head, but he wouldn’t allow himself to. He didn’t deserve it. “Take care of yourself, Y/N.” Without waiting for your response, he got into the Impala and started her up, revving the engine before pulling away from you for good.   

He would never forget the devastated look on your face in his side view mirror as he drove away from you, how you’d hugged yourself and brokenly turned to go back into the motel room the two of you had shared. It wasn’t any consolation but he was glad he’d handled the bill earlier and he’d even charged another week to one of the cards he had so this way you wouldn’t have to worry about a thing. You could take a little time to figure out where to go from there. Sure, if his dad knew, he’d tear him a new one, but he never intended on telling John or anyone about you. You’d be better protected that way. No demon or witch could mine that information. And since he himself didn’t know where you’d go, they wouldn’t be able to get it out of him either. Not to mention, he told himself over and over that he didn’t love you until he began to believe it. That you two wouldn’t have worked out and you had just about run your course before John had called him. Who was to say that you two would have even been able to settle on an apartment or house to move into together? You barely knew each other. Plus, you were both young and you would change as you got older, as people do, and your dreams, desires, and needs would change. Either hunting would have taken a toll on the relationship or you would have grown apart. So, though it had been harsh, he had actually done you both a favor. He spared you both heartache later on by causing you a little at that moment. Dean was very good about compartmentalizing things when it suited him. You were safe and that was all that mattered. So yes, he made himself forget about you and how he felt about you, and he didn’t look back. That look of yours, though, that destroyed and heartbroken look…it had haunted him for months. But he told himself that if that was the price of protecting you, he’d gladly pay it. With enough alcohol, hunts, and faceless women, the memory of the look all but faded into the distance of the past. 

Eventually, time passed and then of course, Cassie had come along. He’d learned from what had happened with you and he’d been up front with Cassie about who he really was and that didn’t end well. Not to mention his time with Lisa and Ben. But over this period of time, he had also finally convinced himself that you had probably gotten over him and found somebody else who could give you the life he never could, the life you deserved. He wanted that for you and yet it seemed that no matter how hard he’d tried to give it to you in his own way all those years ago, the supernatural and all the pain and devastation it brought seemed to have found you anyway. 

“We’re not leaving her,” Dean assured his brother after breaking himself out of his reverie. Ignoring Sam’s confused expression at Dean opening the driver side door, he glanced up towards the upper level of the house, knowing you were hiding away somewhere beyond those walls. An elderly neighbor had assured him that she and her husband would stay in the home for the next hour or so in case you needed anything.

He slipped into the driver seat, followed by Sam getting in on the passenger side, and started Baby up. He put the car into drive and pulled away from the curb, intent on getting to the motel to change and ready himself for the conversation he knew he needed to have with you now. Truthfully, it was a conversation he should have had with you a long time ago. It was time to give you the talk. He’d left you alone back in that motel room all of those years ago; he wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice.

Series taglist: @globetrotter28; @roseblue373

Dean taglist: @deans-spinster-witch; @birdiellie; @heartlessdelusions

SPN taglist: @just-levyy

Tag List Form

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x female reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #follow me into the dark #dean winchester fanfiction

[inkpot909]

How They Text the Reader Headcanons

↳ Characters included are Bruno Brucciarati, Leone Abbacchio, and Guido Mista. Gender Neutral Reader with they/them pronouns.

A/n: I’ve always wanted to try my hand at doing x Reader text messages! This was very fun to make, and I do plan to make more of this kind of headcanon list for the rest of Bucciarati’s team.

Warning(s): None.

Bruno Bucciarati

Bruno’s text messages are straight to the point and utilize proper grammar like the mother he truly is deep down.

Not the type of person to send emoji’s… ever, really. This is because he views texting as a simple tool to use when he can’t just speak to you in person or over a phone call.

However, you prefer the funnier explanation of it actually being because he’s secretly very inept at using technology (this is very much so part of it he just won’t ever say so).

In all honesty, he prefers to call you and hear the sound of your voice more than communicating over text. He’s the type to call in order to converse about whatever mundane thing is on his mind instead of sending a text.

That said, he’s definitely the type to always tell you good morning or wish you goodnight with a sweet text message.

Also, because of his job, he’s often put into long-term situations where calling isn’t exactly ideal. That’s when he’ll text the most; he just wants to check up on you regularly when he can’t be there in person do so! This became especially true after rising to the position of Capo.

His text messages may seem… bland to those unfamiliar with him.

But since you know him as well as you do, they always ring as genuine and an extension of his polite kindness.

Admittedly, it is hard to argue against the fact that his straightforward style of text often leads to misunderstandings. This is due to his sometimes unreadable tone:

Leone Abbacchio

Hardly ever texted you at the beginning.

Since the two of you started going out, he’s gotten a bit better, though. Before, he was very adamant that if he has something to say, he’ll wait when he’s face-to-face with you.

But when he eventually let it slip that he often forgets what he even wants to talk to you about, you slowly began getting him to text you more.

Arguably the best method of doing so is to get him to tell you about something he feels strongly about. Whether it’s something positive like asking him about the music he’s been listening to recently, or it’s something more devilish like bringing up subjects that really bother him.

Leone is at least very reliable.

Meaning that, although he doesn’t often start a conversation over text himself, he will respond to you reasonably quick.

Tease him by claiming it’s because he has a soft spot for you and he won’t text for an entire day (you know he loves you).

He also prefers to use proper grammar and punctuation in his texts. That said, Leone does use emojis (usually just to express disappointment) and sometimes can seem more expressive in text than he is in actual conversation.

One sweet thing he does over text is that he always sends you a message after he makes it home after a particularly dangerous mission, informing you that he’s safe. He knows you worry, and although he often puts up a front claiming it’s annoying, he truly does take note of that concern.

Abbacchio’s just not completely used to having someone like you in his life who holds a special concern for him. He is adjusting; slow and steady.

And although he forms the habit of texting you more, it’s you and only you he has the energy to do this for (outside of probably Bruno). This leads to other’s on Bucciarati’s team to text you when they want to get a hold of him:

Guido Mista

Real talkative over text, especially in the evening after he’s finished with his dinner. He’s pretty expressive and uses a decent amount of emojis.

Will plop down on his couch with an exaggerated bounce, pull out his phone, only with the purpose of talking to you and doing nothing else on the device.

The two of you actually had to work on how late you’d stay up texting one another.

Hours disappearing in the blink of an eye and leaving you both extra tired the next morning. And on occasions that it was decided to take the conversation into a call… it’s easy to see why you both have slept in late more than once.

Although not as frequently as someone like Narancia, Mista will send memes every now and then. Not only that, but he always replies to the ones you send him.

He prefers to send you embarrassing or funny pictures of others in the group over memes, though. You’ve seen photos of Abbacchio and Fugo in particular that Mista could honestly use as blackmail.

This has bitten him in the butt quite a bit, though.

After discovering Mista’s been doing this, the others now send you every single unfavorable image they own of the gunslinger. Even Bruno’s sent his fair share.

And although Mista often forgets to say good morning to you through text, he always says goodnight to you.

Not only that, but Mista will text right after he’s completed with a mission. Although a bit of a goofball, he always takes work seriously, and will leave you on delivered on hours at a time depending on what he’s up to. But the minute things have calmed, he’s letting you know.

Mista will certainly ask one of his common out-of-pocket questions designed to get a conversation going via a text message.

This isn’t a bad thing per se, except for the fact that he has a bad habit of doing so at three in the morning.

Even still, they’re not the weirdest variation of texts you’ve ever received from him:

#johnny’s work #jjba #jojo’s bizarre adventure #vento auero #golden wind #bruno bucciarati #bruno bucellati x reader #leone abbacchio #abbacchio x reader #guido mista #mista x reader #narancia ghirga #pannacotta fugo #giorno giovanna #headcanons #fluff #fake texts

[artemis32]

vagabond

my batfam obsession has finally come in handy (reader is like, late teens, early twenties??)

This was meant to be a drabble, but I went a teeny tiny bit overboard, and by overboard, I mean this is 5.6k words - there will also definitely be a part two <33

Enjoy :)) Or don't. I can't tell you what to do

****

dc masterlist

****

“Okay,

Let’s do this one last time

My name?? You don’t need to know my name. All you need to know is that I was bitten by a radioactive spider, and for the last six years, I’ve been the one, and only, Recluse.

….what? Spiderman?

No, no, none of that nonsense. That’s so overused. Plus, I’m a woman, and Spiderwoman just feels like a bit of a mouthful. 

Yeah… Recluse. I was bitten by a recluse spider. 

…ironically, I hate spiders.”

****

Hear me out.

You’re a Spider person(??), involved in the Spider verse. You have the usual Spiderman backstory (sort of), and you’ve got the same incredible senses and abilities. I imagine you having a slightly superior spider sense and speed compared to other Spiders – think Cindy Moon. And obviously, the name, Recluse, means you were bitten by a recluse spider (I fucking hate spiders), but that also means that you get all the qualities of a recluse spider. Mainly necrotic venom and the ability to camouflage. You can’t exactly turn invisible, you just have the uncanny ability of blending in like a chameleon. It’s kind of creepy, I won’t lie.

Regardless of your abilities, you were there when Miguel lost his temper and when Miles ran away. 

Except you made the mistake of trying to help Miles. Why wouldn’t you? He was just a child, and he only wanted to keep his family safe. Anyone else would’ve done the same in his position. Suffice it to say, that pissed Miguel off. Majorly.

And while Miles managed to get away without a dimension-travelling watch, you weren't as fortunate. You fought tooth and nail with other Spiders, not wanting to hurt them and not wanting to get caught. You barely managed to escape with your life as you tapped a random location into your watch and zapped off to another earth without a second thought or a proper plan. But not before the Spiders giving chase had managed to damage your watch (and you - they’re strong as fuck, of course they managed to do some damage).

Now, as you stand on an empty rooftop, examining your watch in the rain, you're beginning to think you may have fucked up. 

Slightly.

The watch still prevents you from glitching, you've confirmed that much. Thank goodness.

But it is broken. You know it is. Because you can't reach anyone else in the Spider verse. And you can't see what universe you're in. You feel like you’ve been thrown in the deep end, and the fact that you can barely stand doesn’t help.

****

Stood in the rain on a rooftop in the middle of nowhere, injured and all but stranded, was not how you had planned on spending your Saturday night.

As you distractedly tinker with the watch in a pathetic attempt to fix it, grumbling to yourself about your ruined weekend place, your spider sense goes haywire, ringing so loudly in your ears that your head spins.

You're so disoriented that you barely manage to dodge the dagger thrown your way.

A dagger that's... shaped like a plane? No, it looked more like a bird?

You step back cautiously as a man emerges from the shadows, jumping down from a ledge just above your head. 

He’s dressed strangely, which is one hell of a statement coming from you, someone dressed in a skintight spider suit. But-

“Really? A cape? Isn’t that, like, super impractical?” 

The question leaves your mouth before you can think about it, but really – did Edna Mode teach people nothing?

He walks closer without a word. His silence is almost as unsettling as his gaze. It feels as if he’s dissecting you. He keeps a safe distance between the two of you. 

Hm, he’s not completely lacking in the common-sense department, at least.

Then, after much deliberation, he speaks.

“That light- you fell from the sky?”

His voice was cautious, every word measured and serious. His eyes scanned you from top to bottom, taking in your appearance without a word. 

You sigh and prop a hand on your hip, trying to appear nonchalant, trying desperately not to wince at the flaring pain in your ribs. You were in no position to fight, so you’d either have to run, or talk your way to safety. 

If there was one thing you were good at, it was talking.

“Yep. You’re so observant.”

He scowls, his mouth pinching slightly at the corners.

Okay, maybe sassing the man with a dorky superhero cape isn’t a great idea… At least, not while I can barely stand.

So you change tactics.

“I’m sorry, I just- Look, uh, where exactly am I?” 

The look on his face tells you that that was not the right question to ask.

Great. A sceptic. That’s exactly what I needed.

So you backtrack, laughing awkwardly as you wave your hands dismissively.

“That was a… a joke- A terribly timed joke. I apologise. Uh, your suit is… nice?”

Now he seems more exasperated than cautious, and he takes a step closer, reaching a hand out towards you.

Your spider sense flares, and you know that something about this man is dangerous. He appears young and relatively harmless, but appearances can be deceiving, you of all people know that.

So, you do the only thing you can think of at that moment. The only command your instincts give you. You jump away. 

You jump.

And, naturally, you stick to the wall.

It’s nothing. It’s such a small action, one you’re more than accustomed to. You do it all the time, climbing walls and ceilings, scaling the sides of buildings. Other Spiders do it too. Even the civilians back on your own earth are used to it.

But it’s not nothing.

The man before you seems stunned beyond words, his outstretched hand hanging in midair as his jaw drops. He stares at you as you stand there, exactly perpendicular to him, sticking to the wall and defying all laws of nature as if it’s nothing.

His hand clenches in a fist and he reaches for a bo staff, the metal snapping loudly as he swings it outwards, the leather of his glove creaking as he tightens his grip.

“Who are you? Your name. Now.” he demands, his jaw clenched tightly.

You tilt your head. 

Was this guy an idiot? The first rule of secret identities is that they’re, y’know, secret?

“Oh, well, I’m Recluse. Who are you?”

He ignores your question, slowly approaching you again, looking at you curiously. It might have seemed innocent to a third party, but your head was still ringing. You couldn’t let this man get too close to you.

You sigh heavily.

Running it is.

You point your arm outwards, startling the man, who takes a wary step back. Before he can react or reach for you, you shoot a web out and swing away. His bo staff slams against the wall seconds after you leapt from it, the wall denting and crumbling from the force of his swing.

The look on his face was priceless, first fear at the sight of you jumping over the edge of the building, then surprise, then a flash of anger as you mockingly saluted him as you swung away. You’d laugh if your ribs didn’t feel like they were seconds away from shattering. 

You swing through the unfamiliar city, the buildings passing by you in a flash. Coming to a stop is painful, your head swimming as you nearly slam into the side of an apartment building. 

Thank God for spider-like adhesion.

You sit there for a long moment, taking a second to catch your breath and gather your bearings.

After you've managed to shake the dizziness away, you swing to the street down below.

While you think over your piss poor plan of finding some civilian clothing and learning more about this universe, you try to ignore the aching throb in your ribs. You weren’t too concerned about the injury – one advantage of being Spiderwoman was that you healed at an incredible rate. You’d just have to grin and bear until you healed.

****

Wayne Enterprises.

They specialised in a whole lot, but all that really interested you was their science division. In particular, the tech and biotech sector. The company seemed eerily similar to variations of other mega corporations you’d seen in your time travelling through the multiverse.

Stark Enterprises. Alchemax. Oscorp Industries. Roxxon Energy Corporation.

The list was endless, but you’d decided, after hours spent in a cramped internet café doing informal research on the strange dimension you found yourself in, that investigating Wayne Enterprises was the best place to start if you hoped to ever fix the watch and return home.

Your plan of action was simple. Scratch that, it was terrible - held together with little more than hopes and prayers. But with your abilities, you were confident you could pull it off.

That’s how you found yourself confidently walking through the foyer of Wayne Enterprises, acting as if you were supposed to be there. Swiping an access card off of some poor, unsuspecting office worker was easier than it should have been.

You wandered around the reception area for a while, carefully surveying the room before approaching the elevator with the air of someone who knew where they were going.

There’ll be signs for each division… Right?

Wrong.

Twenty minutes later, you’re still wandering aimlessly through corridors, hoping the right room would magically present itself to you.

So caught up in your own frustrated musings, you nearly miss the department you’d spent almost an hour looking for.

The sign above the door is pathetic - faded and barely visible, peeling and yellowed at the edges, like some old poster left out in the sun to age.

Shoving your irritation to the back of your mind, you quietly open the door, wincing as it creaks. Popping your head through the gap, you peek around the small room, and-

Nothing.

It’s completely empty, the thick layer of dust settled over the countertops seeming to mock your failure of a heist.

A silent huff of annoyance is all you allow yourself, quickly shutting the door and continuing on your way. Determination fuels your every step, intent to find something, anything, so that your breaking-and-entering excursion wouldn’t be for nothing.

****

Success.

You definitely weren’t supposed to be in here. Not that you were supposed to be in the building in general, but this?

‘This’ being what appeared to be the CEO’s personal office, if the floor to ceiling windows and expensive leather furniture was anything to go by.

You’d long since discarded any pretence of searching for the biotech department. Now, you were just snooping around, curious to see what exactly the CEO of Wayne Enterprises had laying around.

Naturally, you’d come across a few pictures of him in your investigation of Wayne Enterprises, and all you’d thought about the moment you’d seen his photo, was that Bruce Wayne was undoubtedly one of the most attractive men you’d ever met.

If you weren’t caught in such a dire situation, you might have taken the time to fawn over him a while longer.

The office is odd. There’s something about it that you can’t quite put your finger on, something uncanny. Maybe it’s that lack of colour or warmth, or the lack of any personal effects.

But that couldn’t be it. You’d seen plenty of rooms similarly decorated, but there was something about this in particular that set your hair on end. Not your spider sense, but your unconscious mind.

It almost felt as if you were being… observed. As if an unseen force was breathing down your neck, pinning you in place.

You distract yourself from your ever growing unease, pulling open drawers and rifling through cabinets. 

What an obscene amount of paperwork.

Truly, you don’t expect to find anything exciting or noteworthy. Maybe an office cellarette, maybe a Courtesan cigar.

What you don’t expect is to find the parts you needed to fix your watch. 

The parts that were supposed to have been in the biotech department.

Before you have much time to contemplate about why the tech worth billions is shoved behind a bookshelf, the door opens.

You’re on the ceiling before he even enters the room, your breath tight in your chest, the klystron conductor clutched firmly in your fist as you try not to make any sudden movements.

Certain abilities you’d gotten as a result of the spider that bit you came in handy more often than not, namely the capability to survive weeks, if not months without food or water, and the preternatural proficiency you had hunting at night. Most useful had to be your camouflage abilities.

And while you were able to camouflage yourself, it came with its own set of drawbacks and caveats. Specifically in the fact that it was a camouflaging ability, not invisibility.

If you moved too suddenly, even someone unaware would notice you.

It takes you a moment to realise that the man is Bruce Wayne. 

He looks different than in the photos - his back is broader, his hair darker, and his eyes…

His eyes-

Your head feels like it’s being split open, a buzzing so persistent filling your ears that you almost slip off the wall, your adhesion faltering for a moment.

There had been one or two stories within the Spider Society, of moments where someone's spider sense had gone so haywire they couldn’t tell up from down. There’d been a time where, supposedly, someone had even passed out from the pounding pressure in their skull.

Initially, you’d thought it was an exaggeration, a newfound hero overplaying a fight gone wrong in an attempt to save face.

Now, as he surveys the room, his azure eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than they should, you understand what they meant.

Panic isn’t enough to describe how you feel at that moment.

You feel too exposed, your nerves raw and laid bare. 

It… almost feels as if he knows you’re there.

But that’s not possible. There’s no way.

You allow yourself the slightest sigh of relief, releasing the searing breath in your chest as he turns, moving towards his desk.

His silhouette is broad and domineering as he bows over his laptop, the sound of his tapping at the keys filling the sweltering silence of the room. 

With his back turned towards you, you take your chance, slowly, so slowly making your way across the room, still sticking to the ceiling all the while.

You pause for a moment, freezing when you catch a glimpse of what exactly is on his screen.

The camera feed.

There you are.

Entering his office with a wide eyed look on your face.

And-

And that’s you, barely ten minutes ago, rifling through drawers and shelves.

He pauses then, on the frame of you holding the klystron conductor with a satisfied smile and a slight sparkle in your eyes.  He sighs heavily, his head dropping forward as he taps two fingers against the tabletop.

You don’t linger to see his reaction, dropping down from the ceiling and slinking out the ajar door.

****

After you’d hightailed it out of the building as soon as you could, you hadn’t dared to look back.

That man… Something about him set your nerves on edge. He wasn’t normal. 

Thankfully, you’d managed to get out without much hassle, and now you were wandering somewhat aimlessly through the city, looking for a place to set up shop, so to speak.

Spying a seemingly abandoned building across the street, you decided it would have to do for now.

As you cross the road, aiming for the darkened alleyway across the road, you’re slammed off of your feet. 

By a car.

Someone hit you with a goddamn car.

You lay there, in the entryway of the alley, gasping for breath as you press your forehead to the wet concrete beneath you. But no matter how deeply you breathe, you can’t seem to force yourself to your feet.

Spider sense my ass – what the fuck was that?! No warning, nothing!

The edges of your vision turn black, and you pray that you don’t pass out as a pair of polished black leather shoes approach you.

A man crouches down in front of you, his words drowned out by the ringing in your ears.

He reaches out to you, intent on pressing his palm to your shoulder. 

You pass out before he can touch you.

****

You might’ve been unconscious for a few hours or or a few weeks. You weren’t sure.

All you knew was that you were in what appeared to be a medical facility, and you were restrained. 

On the bright side, you felt a ton better than you had before you passed out. Though a look around proved that it might have been because of whatever concoction of drugs they’d given you to numb the pain. 

Well, with your increased metabolism, that comfort probably wouldn’t last too long.

You lay back, content to stay there until a doctor or nurse came in to check on you.

Twenty minutes later, long after the medication had worn off, someone entered the room.

The man, grey-haired and dressed in an immaculately pressed tuxedo, pauses for a moment when he realises that you’re awake before continuing on his course towards you and proceeding to check your vitals.

“How long have you been awake, Miss?” 

You don’t respond.

Or rather, you can’t.

Pain grips you like a vice, wrapping its fingers around your abdomen, digging its claws into your skull.

Stupid damned metabolism.

Apparently, your pain and distress are visible enough for the old gentleman to see.

He frowns, leaning closer slightly for a moment before striding towards a row of cabinets, sifting through them before returning with a needle and a small glass vial. He squints slightly as he fills the needle.

A lot of what happens after that is lost to you in your pained daze. You’re awake, aware, but barely.

The older man is gone by the time you manage to pull yourself out of the strange, aching daze.

In his stead is Bruce Wayne.

The heart monitor betrays your panic, the sharp beeping filling the echoing space of the room.

He doesn’t speak or move from his spot beside your bed, instead observing you with a flat look as your heart rate slowly evens out again.

After a long bout of silence, he hold up a hand, waving it slightly, and-

And he’s holding the klystron conductor.

Of course.

“Do you want to tell me why you were ransacking my office for a multibillion dollar piece of tech?”

Your hands clench and unclench around the stiff sheets, and you lick your lips before responding. 

“No, not particularly.”

You pause. 

“Do you want to tell me why you hit me with your car?”

The corner of his mouth twitches.

He finds this funny?! What a psycho.

“Well, you did steal from me.”

“So you hit me with a car?!”

He raises an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed with your raised tone.

“Regardless… I’m guessing it has something to do with this.”

Every muscle in your body goes rigid as he holds up your watch, casually dangling it from his forefinger as he carefully observes you for any signs of a reaction.

Okay, okay, just… play it cool. 

“What, a watch? Pfft, keep it, it’s not worth much. Just some piece of crap I won in a claw machine ten years ago.”

Your knuckles are white from the force of your grip as you all but strangle the bed sheets beneath your grasp. 

He smirks slightly, nodding empathetically.

“Ah, of course. So, you won’t mind if I toss it in the trash, right? Since it’s just an old piece of crap and all that?”

You shrug, keeping your eyes on his and away from the watch. “Go for it.”

And he does.

He tosses it in the trash can beside your cot, still watching closely from some reaction.

You remain nonchalant.

“...hm, well. Rest up then. You’ll need all your energy- Prison in Gotham is a harsh place.”

You blanch.

“Prison? But- But technically I didn’t even steal! You got it back, didn’t you?”

His mouth quirks slightly at that.

Great. He finds amusement in my suffering.

“While that’s true, you did break into Wayne Enterprises. And my personal office. I have the evidence. That’s grounds enough for an arrest, wouldn’t you agree?”

He stands, sliding his hands into his pockets and taking a casual stance.

Fine. I can play along for a bit.

“...okay. I-I’m sorry. Fine, you can hand me over to the cops, just- Just please let me rest for a bit? I think you might’ve concussed me.”

He huffs a laugh, his eyes lighting up in amusement. He knows you’re lying. And you know he knows.

“Okay. Take all the time you need.”

He leaves without another word, not looking back.

And not a moment too soon.

As the door shuts, you glitch, painfully spasming, your cells electrified and fizzing.

You fall out the cot, collapsing onto the floor as you grip the edge of the trash can, rifling through it in your search for the watch.

Slipping it onto your wrist and tightening the clasp, you-

…this isn’t my watch.

The door opens again and in strolls the culprit, a self-satisfied look in his eyes.

“Just a piece of junk, huh?”

“Oh, fuck y-”

You almost bite your tongue off mid sentence as you glitch again, clinging to the railing of the cot as your muscles stiffen up and your blood roils in your veins.

He’s speaking, confused and panicked as he calls out to you, and then someone else, rushing towards you. You think his hands might be on your arms. You aren’t sure.

Then it’s over. You’re hunched over, all but sprawled on the sparkling white tiles, shivering and sweaty, fighting the urge to throw up. 

But it’s over.

You squint up at Bruce.

His face is hazy, and so is the figure behind his.

Everything is hazy, but you can feel the strap of your watch on your wrist, his hand just above it. You can feel how dry your mouth is, and the pounding of the growing migraine in your temples. And you can feel your spider sense tickling the edge of your consciousness, slowly growing in urgency with each passing moment.

“What the hell was that?”

The voice is a new one, one you haven’t heard before. It belongs to the figure lingering behind Bruce.

His face comes into focus as the effects of your glitch wear off.

Blue eyes. Just as startling and off putting as Bruce’s.

In fact, he seems like a carbon copy. Almost. His skin seems slightly more tanned, and he’s leaner than his older companion. Shorter too, though just by a few inches.

“That…” you say in a weary manner, “was a glitch. A painful one. I don’t recommend trying it.” 

“A glitch?”

You deadpan, pushing yourself into a sitting position, leaning against the wall adjacent to your cot for support.

“Yeah. I just said that. Pay attention.”

“So that watch keeps you from… ‘glitching’ then?” 

Bruce and his companion sport matching expressions of intrigue and dread.

“Yep. Ten points to Gryffindor.”

“...what’s a Gryffindor?” 

Good God, I should’ve let Miguel kill me.

“...doesn’t matter. I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

You get up with an embarrassing amount of difficulty, grunting as you pull yourself up using the cot’s railing. Your enhanced healing could only work so fast, it seemed, and clearly Bruce had done a number on you with the bumper of his car.

The short stride to the door is cut short as the young Bruce lookalike steps in front of you.

“Sorry, but we can’t let you leave just yet. Where exactly are you from?”

“Earth. Please move.”

“I can’t do that. You should sit back down, you don’t look too hot.”

You let out a strangled noise of disbelief.

“Excuse me, I look very hot. All the time.”

A deadpan look is all you’re granted in response.

That’s it, I’ve had enough.

“Seriously. Move.”

“No. Sit down.”

Bruce sighs, massaging the bridge of his nose as you and his mini-me engage in a stare down.

“Okay, that’s enough. Dick, back up. Miss, please, sit down before you hurt yourself.”

You pause, glancing at Bruce, then back at the man in front of you.

There’s a slight pause, and then-

You burst into a fit of giggles, clutching your pained ribs as you stumble back and collapse onto the cot.

“Your name is Dick? Dick? Seriously?”

His eyes harden at your laughter, his mouth pressed in a tight line.

“...it’s not that funny,” he mutters, unimpressed.

“Yeah it is. Who willingly allows themselves to be called Dick? I can think of six penis jokes off the top of my head. You’re practically begging for them.”

Bruce interjects before either one of you can continue, sending Dick a sharp look.

Ha. Dick.

“That’s enough. What I want to know is why you’re glitching. And you won’t be going anywhere until I find out.”

You deadpan, fixing him with an incredulous look.

“...no offence, but you can’t really keep me here.”

“I can, and I will.”

You snort, laughter bubbling up in your chest once more.

“No, I mean- You can try, but you probably won’t succeed. No hard feelings though.”

“What, you mean because of your superpowers? Trust me, they won’t do you much good around here.”

His words give you pause, and you stare up at him silently for a moment.

“I don’t- What are you talking about?”

“There’s no use playing dumb,” Dick interjects. “It won’t get you very far. We know about your abilities, and we’re telling you that we know about them so that you don’t try anything.”

“And what exactly do you plan on doing if I do try something? Money can only get you so far.”

Your words make Bruce’s mouth twitch into a small smile once again.

“I have a theory, one I hope you’ll entertain for a moment.”

He looks at you expectantly.

After a moment of deliberation, a heavy sigh, and a nod, he smiles in a self-satisfied manner and takes a seat on the foot of your bed. After a short nod to Dick, he exits the room, leaving you and Bruce alone.

“I think that you’re from Earth, like you said. Just not this Earth. I think that you’re from another universe or dimension, and you’re ‘glitching’ because you’re not meant to be here. Am I right?”

It’s an effort to hide your reaction and keep your face blank, but you manage. Barely.

“Well, that’s certainly an… interesting theory. What sparked that idea?”

He shifts, staring at you for a moment, resting his palms on his thighs.

“...you fell from the sky. Out of what I can only assume is a portal. And your cells are basically decaying without that watch- or at least, that’s what my colleagues at Star Labs tell me.”

You stiffen at his words, squinting for a beat.

“How do you know I came through a portal? The only person around then was that idiot with the cape.”

Bruce frowns at your words.

“The cape isn’t stupid. It’s practical.”

You deadpan. “It’s a deathtrap.”

“Regardless. I know about all that because…”

He pauses.

“Because I’m Batman.”

“...Batman? Is that supposed to be a superhero alias or something? That’s the dumbest name I’ve ever heard- Did you pick it yourself?”

He lets out a noise of exasperation, annoyance painting his features.

“Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Changing the topic. It’s annoying.”

“...sorry.”

He shakes his head. “So? Am I correct in my assumption?”

You take a moment to think, really think, weighing your options. He didn’t seem like a bad person. Yes, he did hit you with his car. And yes, he wouldn’t let you leave, but…

But your spider sense had gone radio silent. If you were in any danger, it’d be ringing like crazy, so…

“Yes. Yeah, you are. I’m not from this Earth. I’m from Earth 662.”

“Earth… 662?”

“I just said that. Does everyone on this Earth struggle with processing information?”

He fixes you with a stern look before continuing on.

“So I assume you’re stranded here? That’s why you were trying to steal the klystron conductor.”

“Uh uh,” you tut disapprovingly. “I was borrowing it. I would’ve returned it… Eventually.”

Bruce nods along, rolling his eyes slightly as he continues.

“...Earth 662, huh… How many variations of Earth are there then-”

“I can’t tell you that.”

Your response is immediate and stern, leaving no room for debate.

Thankfully, Bruce doesn’t kick up a fuss.

“Hm… Well then, do you know how to get back?”

“Of course I do. I just need to fix up the watch. Hence the little heist I pulled off at your office.”

“And do you know how to fix it?”

You press your mouth into a tight line, avoiding the knowing look he gives you.

“Well, I mean… how hard can it be?”

He sighs. “That’s what I thought you’d say.”

There’s a pause, a lull in the conversation, and neither of you say anything for a long while, both lost in your own thoughts.

“Okay. Here’s what I propose. You obviously don’t know what you’re doing-”

“Hey!”

“-so I’ll help you out. I’ll help fix that watch of yours, and let you stay with me while we try to find you a way back home. In exchange, you’ll tell me about things from your Earth, and about the multiverse. Sound fair?”

As much as you’d like to argue, to refuse his more than generous offer, you know you can’t. You were smart, but not in the areas needed to fix the watch. 

You needed his help.

Damn it.

“...fine. Deal.”

His hand feels cool and calloused in yours, and his grip is firm and reassuring.

If only you knew then how wrong things would go. Maybe you’d have refused his deal.

****

Four months later.

“...still nothing?”

“No. I’m sorry. I’ve sent Dick to Central City to find a few more parts.”

“It’s not your fault, I just… I really want to go home.”

It had been months. 

You’d been stuck on this strange Earth, so similar to your own, for months.

While the Wayne Manor was nice, and its inhabitants lovely, you missed your home. You missed your family.

But there was nothing to be done about it. You’d damaged your watch more than you’d originally thought, the travel mechanism was completely destroyed. 

Initially, you’d been foolishly optimistic, believing you’d return home within a week.

But that week had passed. Then another. And another. 

Time kept passing, and you were still stuck here, four months later. 

At least you had decent company.

While you didn’t exactly trust them, you’d grown fond of them. You might even have begun to consider them friends.

Dick had grown on you over the months, despite the rocky start to your friendship. He was reliable in a way that reminded you too much of the many variations of Peter Parker you’d met throughout your time in the Spider Society.

Tim, who you’d discovered was the ‘idiot in the cape’ you’d met on your first night on this Earth, was just as easy to get along with. At first, he’d thrown you off a bit with his unsociable personality, but he’d slowly opened up over time. Really, he was more of a nerd than anything else. 

And he’d heeded your words of wisdom regarding the cape.

Damian, Bruce’s ‘prodigee’, was someone you still had trouble getting along with. Your relationship had improved over the months, but barely. Before, he’d outright ignore your presence. Now, he at least graced you with a nod of acknowledgement or the occasional verbal greeting. 

How kind of him.

Bruce had become somewhat of a parental figure after he had walked in on you crying one night. While you were embarrassed, he’d taken it in stride, comforting you as best as he could, reassuring you that they’d find a way to send you back home.

“Oh, I know, I know. We’re all trying our best, just… try to be patient. We’ll find something soon, I promise.”

His palms rest on your shoulders, patting you reassuringly.

You nod in agreement, too tired and disheartened to say anything else as you mumble something about going to bed, turning to leave the room.

****

“And you’re sure no one knows she’s here? If they found out…”

“Yes Dick, I’m sure. I’m not an idiot, I know how to wipe a hard drive.”

There’s a slight lull in conversation as the two wait for the rest of the group to arrive.

A few minutes later, Bruce enters the room, Damian trailing behind him. 

He walks to where the two are seated and puts the klystron conductor on the table before them.

“That’s the last one. Have you done everything else?”

Tim nods, gesturing to a singular hard drive placed on the coffee table.

“That’s the only remaining evidence of her presence on this Earth.”

Bruce nods and sighs, looking between the three men with him before Dick interjects.

“Do you- I mean, are we really going to do this? We’re supposed to be the heroes. This… This isn’t something we can undo.”

All three of his companions hold a steely glint in their eyes as they nod.

“I’m sure. It’s better this way. She’s just a kid, she doesn’t know what she needs. She’ll thank us for this in a few years.”

There’s a tense pause for a moment before he speaks again.

“Do it.”

And just like that, the final klystron conductor is destroyed, along with any hope you’d had of returning home.

“...she’ll thank us.”

#yandere #female reader #dark content #spiderwoman reader #spiderverse spoilers #spider-man: across the spider-verse #dc #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #robin #kidnapping #injuries #unmentioned violence #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #batfamily #yandere batfamily #yandere batfamily x reader

[reminiscingtonight]

Sisterly Love

Leah Williamson x Morgan!Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: Pt 1 of ?

[WOSO Masterlist]

Blowing past your teammates, you make a beeline for your fiancée. Leah doesn’t even have a chance to properly greet you before you’re dropping yourself right into her lap. 

“Hello,” she chuckles, amused at the way you instantly mold your body against hers.

“There’s too many of them,” you groan into Leah’s shoulder.

“Too many of who?” she laughs, hand coming up to rub soothingly at your back.

“The Alexes.”

If you had known letting your sister plan your wedding would lead to her nitpicking every detail of your life, including the way you liked to start off your mornings, you wouldn’t have let her stay at your place during the NWSL off season. 

The day started off to a strong start when you rolled over in bed to find your fiancée already gone, a note left on her pillow about a media thing she had this morning. Deprived of your morning cuddles, you trudged into your kitchen… and straight into the waiting arms of Alex (Morgan), who seemed as if she was waiting for her prey to arrive. You couldn’t even drink your coffee in peace, your sister whipping out a couple wedding brochures and instantly talking your head off about the proper color scheme you needed to “really make your wedding pop.”

You only managed to slip out of the room undetected when Charlie started whining about wanting her mom’s attention. While Alex was busy making Charlie pancakes, you took the opportunity to grab your bag and slip out the back door, intent on getting some extra time in the gym… only to run right into Alex (Scott), who then promptly ushered you back inside to talk weddings with your sister.

Dating Leah has been nothing but bliss. Her family welcomed you with open arms and you the same. The more the merrier, you always like to say. But lately, you wanted to draw the line right where her bloodline ends. You always knew what getting involved with Leah entailed. It meant daily calls with her mom, weekly brunches with her dad, biweekly FIFA game nights with her brother. 

And it also meant becoming wrapped up in all things Alex Scott. 

Alex was the older sister Leah never had. Leah looked up to Alex in all the ways you looked up to your own Alex. 

And don’t get anything wrong, you love her. You really do.

You love the way she helps Leah loosen up when you’re all having a night out together. You love the way she’s Leah’s personal hype man, always cheering her on from the sidelines. You love the way she cares for the love of your life, never hesitating to drop things if Leah needs her.

And since you’re such a big part of Leah’s life, it almost seems logical that Alex’s care has extended to you. She’s always there to pick you up when you have bad games. She’s always there as an ear when you’re craving advice from anyone other than those you share a last name with.

So really, there’s nothing wrong that you can find with Alex Scott.

Except. 

Except you’re really starting to get tired of what happens when she teams up with your sister and becomes the honorary fourth older Morgan sister you don’t need.

When Alex (Scott) and Alex (Morgan) start scheming together, there’s nowhere safe you can hide. If you could only pick one thing about the whole wedding planning that’s been annoying you the most, it would be exactly that. The fact that both Alexes have seemingly found common ground in making your life a living hell.

“Oh come on, your sister babies you because she cares about you. Scott babies you because she cares about Leah.”

“Says the person with a surplus of siblings,” you grumble, flipping Katie off without turning around. “Trust me when I say three sisters is more than enough. Can you take Scottie? Please?”

“You literally just said I have a surplus of siblings. Why would I want Alex?”

“So your family will finally have a soccer star in their ranks, obviously.”

Leah gives Katie a hard stare before she can round on you. And then she’s tightening her arms around you before you can try running away so she can properly chastise you herself.

You bat your eyelashes at her, hoping to get away with your comment, but Leah rolls her eyes goodheartedly at you. “First off, it’s football. Second, we will not be giving away any of our Alexes.”

“But--”

A raise of her eyebrow has you shutting your mouth dejectedly.

“Baby, they’re only bothering us because they love us.”

“‘Us?’ Leah, I think you mean ‘me’.”

It’s no secret that both Alexes treat you like you’re a walking hazard sign. Your sister’s been treating you like that ever since your birth, and Scott has picked up on it ever since you came into Leah’s life. If your own flesh and blood misses something, Scott’s quick to catch it and take charge of you herself. 

And it would be okay, really, if you had Leah to help shoulder all of the smothering. But you don’t have her. Because the two of them pamper your fiancée almost worse than you do yourself. If anything, Alex (Morgan) almost seems to prefer your fiancée over you --- not that you could really blame her because, let’s be real, who wouldn’t.

So when Leah says “bothering us,” she really means “bothering you,” because you could count on one hand the number of times they’ve harped on Leah since the two of you got together. (Spoiler, the answer is zero)

“There’s no ‘I’ in team, babe.”

“Well good thing I said ‘me’ and not ‘I’ then, huh.” 

Your quip earns you a pinch to the side, to which you playfully swat Leah back in return.

“She does have you there, Leah,” Katie chuckles.

A pointed look from the blonde has Katie instantly putting her hands up in apology. 

Leah turns her attention back onto where you’re still pouting in her lap.

“We’re in this for the long run, and the Alexes just happen to come included in this deal. I love you, you love me, they love us, and we love them back. It’s always been like this and will probably always be like this, so we might as well roll with the punches, right?”

Sighing, you can’t help but grumble out an agreement. It isn’t like Leah’s wrong. While overbearing, the two Alexes only act this way because--

“If you’re giving away an Alex, can I have Morgan? I kinda want her to teach me how to--”

Leah gives Caitlin an unimpressed look when you instantly perk up at her request.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #Ace writes

[mysebacielblog]

In Depth Analysis: Sebastian and Elizabeth

I love the relationship that Lizzy and Sebastian have. If you know the fact that Sebastian is the Main Character of Black Butler (it’s in the title) and subscribe to the romance/intimacy that he and Ciel share, then this would make Lizzy one of the Biggest Antagonists of all of Black Butler. On the level of antagonism to the Undertaker, perhaps even more! Which is funny because, just, just LOOK AT HER. She’s just this preteen girl!! Who the heck would consider her an antagonist?!

These two have gone up against literal immortal forces that pose a great threat to them physically. The only person who holds this kind of sway is the real Ciel. However. I would consider him to be more of an antagonist to both Ciel and Sebastian, whereas Lizzy is an antagonist and a threat to Sebastian alone. And while Ciel’s Brother (R!ciel) reminds Ciel of his past, Lizzy reminds Ciel of his Future that he will never have. Although she is a bit of a nuisance and a hindrance to Ciel and his plans, Lizzy isn’t a full fledged antagonist for him.

She’s even a sweetheart to everyone, even Sebastian, despite how weird the entire Phantomhive estate is. Their cordial passive aggressiveness and pleasantness between them compared to more direct characters (such as Aunt Francis) is fascinating to watch.

But she has him absolutely TREMBLING in his leather boots, because not only is she the Main Antagonist, but no, a Love Antagonist Even. Because even though our Ciel still keeps her at an arms length and treats her more like family than a proper fiancé, he still cares tremendously about her and her emotions. She represents a life where our Ciel Lives, grows up, has a future, and doesn’t pursue his Revenge. Which is the biggest threat to their contract entirely. As a narrative foil, she’s sweet, loud and angelic, and based on the original story, could be the very salvation that could Save Ciel’s soul.

And the best part of it is she is also really, really good at fighting and can go toe to toe with Sebastian in a fight- and he Can’t even lay a finger on her!

The envy these two have for each other is palpable- each wants what the other has of Ciel’s Time and Affections. It’s the difference between wanting a Public Relationship for Appearances and desiring a private relationship for sharing one’s secrets.

I think the most interesting aspect of their relationship is that even though they’re rivals, Sebastian Lets Lizzy GO, going completely against Ciel’s Wishes, knowing that was “impossible to shackle one’s heart”. Was this some small mercy of growth or sympathy, distance the two from interacting, or simply a way to move the agenda forward?

The only character that would consider her an antagonist of any type would be a demon.

#kuro analysis #elizabeth midford #black butler analysis #kuroshitsuji #sebaciel #< for containment purposes #also drew some art about it (infected by the blorbos)

[scribbledghost]

can I have fem Simon eating you out?? and like lots of degradation but also praise??

Well, I really am sorry, but I don't particularly feel comfortable doing degradation. So im gonna have to leave that part out :x

Praise though? I gotcha. In abundance.

If there's one thing Simon loves doing for you, it's giving head. She could comfortably situate herself between your legs for hours, resting your legs over her broad shoulders as she loses herself in your taste.

In fact, that's exactly what she's doing now. You've long since lost track of time, completely at Simon's mercy as she buries her face in you. You've begun to squirm, overly sensitive from the nth orgasm she's given you since she woke you this morning with gentle touches.

"I know," Simon coos from between your thighs, moving up your body only slightly, "I know love. 'S sensitive, huh?"

She presses a kiss to your mound, turning her head to press another to your trembling thigh.

"Jus' can't get enough of you, sweetheart," she says lowly. "Taste too good. I know it's a lot. You'll tell me if it's too much, yeah?"

You pant for a moment, desperately attempting to compose yourself.

"Don't want you to stop," you breathe, "just... just give me a minute."

She acquiesces, lowering her tongue away from your aching clit to mouth at the rest of your sex in an attempt to show you some mercy while still being able to taste you. Despite her efforts, however, her nose still nudges the bundle of nerves, causing you to jerk in her hold. A high-pitched whine leaves you, and before you can say anything, Simon shifts back up to lavish your lower abdomen with open-mouthed kisses.

"Can I use my fingers, love?" she asks.

"Mhm."

She slides two thick fingers into you, pumping them lazily back and forth as she waits out your sensitivity. It's a well-practiced dance - as soon as you give her permission, her mouth will return to its rightful place at the apex of your thighs. But for now, she's content to feel your walls pulse around her fingers while she mouths at your skin.

"So good f'me, y'know that?" she mumbles, almost to herself. "Layin' there all pretty, lettin' me eat you out as much as I want. Proper angel, you are."

You sigh above her, a blissful little sound accompanied by a hand through her hair to let her know you heard her praise.

Every so often, her fingers leave you, only to be placed in her mouth as she cleans your slick from them. This cycle repeats several times before she softly calls to you.

"How y'feelin, love?"

"Better."

"Still sensitive?"

"Little bit."

Her eyes tick up to yours, an unspoken question on her lips. You make her wait another moment, reveling in how her tongue darts out to wet her lips in anticipation.

"Go ahead."

She gives you a crooked grin, one final kiss to your abdomen, then lowers herself back to your cunt.

If there's one thing she'll never get enough of, it's of the gentle twitch of your clit whenever she brushes it just right. The way you moan when she pulls it between her lips to add some suction. The way your fingers tangle in her hair when she starts writing her name with her tongue.

You're close. Again. She can tell by the way your thighs begin to shake and your hips begin to buck.

"That's it," she says, voice muffled. "That's it. Be good and cum f'me, baby. Need to feel you cum. Need to taste my girl."

Your clit begins to pulse as your back arches, a fresh wave of you coating Simon's tongue. She brings you down slowly, taking deep breaths as she cleans you with her mouth.

"Too... too much," you pant, and Simon lifts herself from between your legs to rest herself over you.

She slots her lips against yours, softly murmuring more praise and words of gentle adoration.

Good thing neither of you have plans today.

#fem simon #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost scribbles #smut

[katalyist]

Something I haven't stop thinking about is Grian (and for extension Scar because they live rent free on my brain) it's the fact that Grian has repeat two episodes in a row that "For some reason the only time I'm not his ally he has show that he is quiet of dangerous" (not exactly his words but you got the point) which is... True? But also not true at all?

Because it has to do with their dynamic and the fact that Grian never really let Scar be a full menace when they were allies because he would have die (and in that series the deads matter even more, one false step and Scar would have been out) but more importantly: Grian has never truly trust Scar habilites to do traps and kill.

In third life Grian took the rol of the one making traps (that tend to fail and work later) because Scar was red life almost all the serie, if he didn't put the tnt minecarts right, serie over. But you can see there how much Scar would rather enter the camp of battle without a further plan that traps, we see him trying to convince Grian to go for Ren or Cleo and Bdubs because he just wants.

In last life they weren't 'allies' but they did see eachother in a regular time and Scar was never a threat to Grian or the Southlanders (probably because he didn't wanted to be a threat, he wanted friends and saw every time that Grian went to magical mountain to get him has a friend) so why Grian would consider him dangerous? Meanwhile B.E.S.T. gave him a life because they were terrified of what he could do if he was red for more time.

We all know how double life went. Scar show that he could be dangerous and persistent but Grian just didn't pay attention and didn't care because he was bussy trying to keep both of them alive (ironic seeing that their three deads were his fault) and because part of how dangerous Scar could be was dedicated to annoy him, to look for his attention. And here in double life we can see again their dynamic how proper allies (and the parallels with third life) and how Grian tried to keep Scar under control "You are ban of the Deep Dark" "Scar, don't burn their boat" "Scar don't take the enchanter" because be didn't want both of them get enemies or killed. Again, Scar having ideas of destruction and Grian going "No" most of the time.

And before passing on our current season I want to add the rol that I think Scar plays in this because it just makes their dynamic more interesting. So, if Grian is the trap person, the 'brain' and protector to keep them alive, what is Scar? The scammer, the fighter, the protector and the supportive one. Because Scar is so good at scamming people, intentional or not, in 3rd life he almost got all his armor for scamming people for making they believe they were getting something in return and using his position as a yellow/red life to scare them. He is also a fighter, not in the literal sense but more in the one that he isn't gonna stop until he gets what he wants (If he dies in the process, well, bad luck) he makes them keep fighting. He is also a protector! Intentional or not, because he cares about his allies too much, even when it seems that they aren't a 100% with him (like Grian with his secret soulmate or Bdubs in this season) he would never turn his back to them unless they are the last ones.

And the most important one for me: he is very supportive. Scar leaves Grian be as crazy as he wants, he supports his plans, his traps, his murder attempts, and at difference of Grian he doesn't get that frustrated if a plan doesn't work as they thought. Scar leaves Grian be Grian. Maybe because both of them are chaos or because he feels safe with the decision Grian makes in name of both of them. But that is why they work so well, because even when Scar likes to joke around and cause tension with other teams he is always ready to follow Grian's plan to take them out of that situation.

And now we are in the present, dear Limited Life, and thinks just really change for this one. Because deads are less important now (at least at the beggining) and you can start killing since you are yellow. AND officially both of them started being enemies: The Clockers vs The Bad Boys.

Scar has a family as crazy as him (just look at Cleo burning down the mansion or Bdubs doing the boogey kill the first five seconds of being boogey) and no one is gonna stop him.

And here we see the part of why Grian thinks that Scar just suddenly become dangerous: he was one of the targets. For the first time (i think) Grian saw what it was being the person that Scar wants dead and Scar succeeded, he killed Grian! And also for the first time he didn't had anyone who would stop him so he get more kills.

The second reason that I could find is that Grian hasn't truly seen Scar traps fail as in the past, he just has seen when he gets a kill, even if was an accident, so Grian can just think two things: or Scar become an expert in traps or he is dropping tnt minecarts randomly and seeing who dies. And honestly both of that options are terrifying.

But now that they are formal allies again when they are together you can still see that they are the same silly and goofy couple of always! You can see Scar consulting and looking at Grian when something seems dangerous and Grian inmediatly being like 'back off back off' and raising his shield so Scar does the same (the birthday party) or Scar making a raid just because he can and almost inmediatly regretting it because "Grian! Grian they are too strong! Help!" and "Scar!" with that tone that means 'Im not letting you die but god if you shouldn't have done that in the first place'.

And how at the end of the chapter Grian says "Timmy... It's at three hours and Scar sigh Scar it's at five hours so let's see what happens" like, yeah, we get it, you are stressed because you need to find kills for two of your allies that are probably gonna die because they can't have an episode without dying.

In conclusion: Desert duo and their toxic dependent relationship ruined my life I can't not think about them enough.

Thank you for coming to my talk, i didn't do a extent research and i have probably half of the things wrong but yeah i hope my point is clear.

#trafficblr #traffic life series #limited life #desert duo #scarian #grian #limited life smp #goodtimeswithscar

[lulu-tutu]

Do you take platonic requests?

If so, could I request head-cannons, or anything you like really, of Splinter (can be 2012 or rottmnt) becoming a father figure for a reader who doesn’t have one? The reader becomes friends with the turtles and spends a lot of time at the lair, obviously because they want to spend time with their turtle buds, but also because they really like talking to Splinter and he kinda picks up on it after a while and decides “yep, I have a 5th kid now”.

Sorry if this is a bit of a strange request.

Father Figure ⭐️ Splinter (Platonic)

A/N: This wasn’t a strange request at all, I love requests like this because they really pull at my heartstrings. Was super fun to write, and I tried my best not to tear up as Father/Child scenes make me emotional lmao

Pairing(s): Platonic!Splinter x GN!Reader

Warning(s): Like, two swear words, teeny tiny bit of angst? Overall very soft <3

Proof read :)

——————————

Spending so much of your free time down in the lair meant not only hanging out with the turtles, but also becoming close to their dad, Splinter.

So much time in fact that it started to feel like he was becoming your own dad.

The first time you had a proper conversation with him was when you were having a sleepover at the lair. While everyone else was knocked out cold in their own rooms, you couldn’t catch a wink of sleep, so you decided to check out the one place the guys spend most of their time; the Dojo.

You first thought was to just marvel at the range of weapons they had, but you weren’t even close to doing that when you spotted a meditating Splinter sitting silently in the middle of the room.

Breathing a sigh of relief that the sound of you entering the room didn’t disturb him, you went to back out when his voice startled you. “Cannot sleep?”

Ah, shit. You fucked up.

Not wanting to be rude, you sheepishly nod, “Yeah, I’m really sorry for disturbing you. I just wanted to try and tire myself out by walking around.”

It was then that he gently patted the space in front of him, inviting you over. With nothing else to do and honestly, why would you even decline, you complied and sat in front of him.

That night the two of you talked for a few hours. It started off a little bit awkward on your part, not knowing exactly what to say to him, but he was kind enough to lead the conversation.

You talked about the turtles, when they were younger and just learning how to defend themselves, about some of your future plans, if you had any that is, and if not, he would try and give you a push in the right direction with small ideas he thought would suit you.

At some point, your home life was brought up. You explained to him that it was just you and your mother when you were growing up. You never had a proper father figure, but you would never trade your mother in for the world.

He tells you that your mother did a wonderful job of bringing you up :’)

As time went by, you spent more and more time with Splinter. He’s shown you a few defensive moves in case anything were to happen when the boys weren’t around to help you, to which you profusely thanked him for. He was so proud when you managed to pin him down once (though he wouldn’t tell you that he was obviously going easy)

You two drink tea together a lot, and if you didn’t like tea, he would manage to find you something you would prefer.

At some point he begins to call you his child, it started off as ‘Okay, it’s because I’m a teenager, I understand’, but at some point to both you and him it starts sounding more like he’s definitely adopted you. And he has.

He tells you about Miwa and his past family, which you take in with watery eyes and a soft smile. At that point, you knew you were apart of the family.

Sometimes the guys like to tease you and Splinter, Raph often stating that “Well since you’re his favourite child-“

You would just grin with your hands on your hips, “I am the favourite child, thank you very much. Now if you excuse me, I’m telling dad that you ate my slice of pizza.” Just to be petty lmao

If you’re ever upset, your go to person would be Splinter. Something about the way he hugs you so tightly, with so much care in his embrace just makes you sob it all out until you felt better, his calming words making everything seem so little.

When Father’s Day arrives, you might or might not have actually celebrated it with him and the turtles. You bought him an actual cake that you all shared, and took plenty of photos to hang around the lair and in his room. It was a day to remember, especially when you could spot the little tears in his eyes.

Overall, Splinter is the best dad you could ever want, and you make sure he knows that.

#tmnt 2012 x reader #tmnt 2k12 x reader #Tmnt x reader #Tmnt x y/n #tmnt x you #Tmnt platonic Splinter x reader #Tmnt Leo x reader #Tmnt mikey x reader #Tmnt raph x reader #Tmnt Donnie x reader

[mistyresolve]

| Incident Report - Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Pilot Reader

Word Count - 4.5K

Summary - The reader is the pilot of an apache helicopter, one the most dangerous, advanced killer in the sky. She’s been the 141′s go-to when they need aerial support for a year. Each time she is called to a mission with them she immediately thinks of one person, Ghost. And she’s not the only one finding it hard to focus on the mission when working with the other. So when she devises a plan to finally get what they both desperately need, Ghost happily obliges her.  

Warnings/Tags - 18+ ONLY,  swearing, SoftDom, slight switch, praise, fingering, pussy licking? unprotected sex, creampie 

A/N - not to be nerdy but the apache helicopter to hella fuckin cool

Masterlist  ❤︎  RTB (Part two)

The first time you joined Task Force 141 on a mission was a year ago, having been asked to be their aerial support. Unlike the regular formal introduction that happened where you would meet your new team and mission in a conference room, you had been introduced on the tarmac. You were just doing the final safety checks with the engineer when the 141 arrived. 

You thanked your engineer before leaving to meet them. The only one you knew from previous collaborations was Captain Price. And it was Price who introduced you to everyone else. You tucked your helmet under your arm, catching it on the curve of your hip so you could have a free hand to shake with. 

“Nice to see you again, Stitch,” He dipped his chin at you, before sweeping a hand at the pack of men behind him. 

“Always a pleasure,” you gave him an easy smile. 

“As I’m sure you’re aware, this is the 141,” he pointed to the first individual, “Soap”, his grasp was firm and as you shook his hand, and gave each other a curt nod. Then Price moved the next, “Gaz,” you did the same with him, he offered you a sweet smile and you couldn’t help a matching one from growing on your own face. The last soldier was more stoic than the rest, harder to read, “and Ghost. This isn’t everyone but it’s who will be on today's mission.” 

When you met Ghost eyes you knew immediately he was dangerous. Extremely dangerous. You were thankful he was on your side. Thankful that you’d never have to come toe to toe with him. You took note of the fact that his eyes lingered on you too. Dark eyes roamed over you. Not in a heated lewd sense, but like a calculating predator. He was taking note of weaknesses and blind spots already. You wanted to wave a little white flag at him, marking yourself as an ally. 

Just then your co-flyer, having previously focused on the manifests, joined in on the pleasantries. 

“This is Dutch,” you knocked your shoulder against his, “The best gunner and partner a pilot could ask for.”   

“How long have you guys been flying?” Gaz inquired, cocking his head to the side. 

“Three years with this girl,” you threw a thumb over your shoulder to the aircraft behind you. It was an apache helicopter, one of the most advanced technologies all packed behind the painted green casing. The most exciting piece of equipment is the integrated helmet display, allowing either the pilot or gunner to slave the live footage of the chain gun to the helmet. It tracked an individual's head movement to provide an even more accurate aim. 

The apache was one of the most dangerous helicopters in the sky and you got to pilot it. You almost cried when you got your placement after flight school. You did cry after your first flight. 

Gaz let out a low whistle, “Is she treating you well?” 

You nod, “As long as I give her proper aftercare.” 

That first mission went smoothly, really smoothly. 

The Apache was built on the premise of being agile and lethal, and with you and Dutch inside the cockpit, the aircraft was able to reach its full potential. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t show off for them just a little. Show them who you acquired your callsign, Stitch. Bobbing and weaving around bullets and missiles. Threading between the terrain. Dutch provided firepower with unmatched aim. Dutch hammered the enemy with chain gun rounds, rockets, and HELLFIRE missiles. You’d also be lying if you said the elated cheering of the 141 over the radio didn’t boost your ego. 

You had provided them with as much support as you could be having to RTB for fuel. 

Every mission was no different from the first. All of them a success. And you couldn’t help the exciting you that hopped around in your chest every time you got assigned to the 141. 

One of the reasons was that you had grown a certain affinity for one of the members.  

Today’s mission was a little different. It started off with you being called to one of the conference rooms with Dutch right at your side. When you entered the room and found out who you were meeting, you grinned.

“Hello, boys,”  you immediately started searching the room for one person in particular, finding him seated at one of the tables. He had one arm resting on the table in front of him, and his head resting on his other fist. His eyes were already on you, slowly racking down your body. The heat behind his eyes made you feel good, made you want to ravish him right then and there. 

The tension was there from the very beginning, and it only grew every time you saw him next. You could feel it swell and surge between you guys, and you were damn sure he could too. Neither of you had acted on it though. Mostly because of the conflict of interest. Partly because the chase was fun.  

His gaze met yours, heavy-lidded with filthy vehemence.  

Some flighty and skittish part of you taking the reins and you had to look somewhere else. Anywhere else. You landed on the table he was sitting at, littered with maps, pictures, and documents. You slapped down on that piece of yourself, cursing at it. He made you nervous and loathed him for it. No man has ever made you nervous.  

“What’s on the itinerary for today?” your voice came out a little higher than it usually did. You shifted a document over to get a better look at the map. Price ran through the plan, briefing you and Dutch on your roles.   

The flight started off as expected, being called into action when the 141 had difficulties shaking the enemy and were in a vehicle chase. Their ammo was running low and one of them was shot. The wound wasn’t mortal but apparently, he was hurtin’.  

They were speeding down a desolate street of a deserted city when you reached them. You maneuvered your heli to hover behind a highrise, waiting until the enemy forces sped around the corner at the end of the street. When finally they did you rolled over into the middle of the street, hovering high in the air. Dutch fired away, taking out the forefront. 

“Fuck yeah!” Soap yelled into the radio, and you could see him shoot a fist out the window of one of their trucks.  

You shifted, barreling forward, adding pressure. This allowed Dutch to make a run with the chain gun as you flew overhead. You didn’t like the position but the highrise buildings on either side of the streets gave you no choice. 

“Let me know when you guys see smoke!” you had to yell over the sound of Dutch’s bombardment and strafe. You dipped between two buildings and met the reflection of the apache in the windows. You gave Dutch a quick salute in said reflection to which he returned with his own, before repositioning to enter the battle further back. More space meant more time for reaction. You would support them for as long as you could, they just needed to get out of the intended location or when they lose the tail. Or when you get rid of them. 

“Smoke!” Ghost shouted, warning us of the heat-seeking missile. 

“Flares!” you counter. Inverting the aircraft you released flares. The maneuver was the only way to get them out and in front of you in time to counter the MPADS missiles. You swore, “That was too fucking close.” 

Even Dutch seemed a little uneasy about it. You rightened yourselves, wanting to gain distance and height. 

“Switching to helmet display,” you announced, joining Dutch in the shooting. The 141 raced underneath you, and you applied as much cover as you could manage before needing to refocus on piloting. Four blocks away were reinforcements for them. You could manage it, Dutch could manage it. 

“RPG!” 

You merely had to dodge these ones, leaning left then right as they blew past you. 

Three blocks. 

Two blocks. 

Dutch signalled to you that he was out of HELLFIRE, and Missiles, “I got 50 rounds left in the chain gun,” he remarked, his voice calm and collected. One of the reasons you loved him as your gunman.     

“We’re RTB, we’ve given you guys all we could,” I hailed down to the ground, pulling away. 

“Thanks once again, CADAVER,” Price replied, calling you guys by your aircraft callsign, “See you two back home.” 

“We’ll have dinner ready and on the table for you guys,” you said, already heading back.

“Sunday roast?” Soap joined in.

“It’s Thursday, Mate,” Ghost answered for us dryly. You couldn’t help but smile at the familiar exchange.  

They were back on base an hour after you guys, and we met up for a quick and dirty debrief before being let off for dinner. You had purposefully chosen the seat beside Ghost during the debrief. He had also purposefully knocked his knee against yours underneath the table. The fleeting and seemingly innocent touch made you throw your other leg over the other and squeeze your thighs together. 

Like always you dreaded the inevitable paperwork that you had to complete and hand in tomorrow. You had just finished it when an idea formed in your wicked thoughts. 

With your action report in hand, you knocked on his door, plastering an innocent look on your face before opening the door. An expression of pleased confusion passed through his dark eyes, darker still when they dilated at the sight of you. He was still in his gear, only he was missing his weapons. You had strategically worn easy-to-remove clothes. An oversized sweater you’d stolen from the locker room(and nothing underneath you might add), and plain black leggings.   

You waved the piece of paper in front of him, “I thought it would be a good idea to compare notes.” 

You catch the ghost of a smile in his eyes, and he scanned the hallway before stepping aside to let you in, “Brilliant idea,” he shut the door behind him. 

It was your first in his barracks, and if you hadn’t known any better you would have assumed the room was vacant. Apart from the paper and folders on the desk, the rest of the observable room was pristine. 

Before answering the door he was probably working on the same report as you were. His writing was neat and tidy, a mixture between print and cursive. You examine the papers with a hum. He stayed a step back, he wanted to let you make the invitation before closing in. 

“I hope you’re not gossiping about me in here,” you jest as you drag a finger down the page. 

“Never,” he said, his voice low and serious, “I only ever say the most wonderful things about you.”

“Oh?” you tilted your head, your loose hair falling over your shoulder, “Like what?” You dared a glance back at him, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. There was the invitation he was looking for. 

“How the team always feels safest when we have the infamous CADAVER watching over us. How professional and talented you are,” the emphasis he put on “professional”, wasn’t mocking, but a challenge. A disguised question. 

Are you sure? 

You bit down on your lip, “Mhm.”

He took a step closer, reaching to take your report from your hand and placing it on the desk in front of you. His other hand comes to plant itself on the wood beside your hip. You could smell him, like smoke and rain. 

“How I’m finding it harder and harder to work alongside you,” you could feel his chest against your back. The bulletproof vest getting in the way of feeling the muscle and heat you knew to lay just beneath. 

“Because all I think about is how good I could make you feel,” he reached his free hand around your hips, pulling you back into him, his fingers digging into the flesh. Your breath caught and you placed one hand on the desk for support, your other one reaching for his around your waist. Your fingers disappeared under his sleeve to wrap around his wrist. You don’t know why but there was a fleeting shock when you met warm skin. Maybe you were half expecting him to be an actual ghost, with cold lifeless skin.  

“The sounds you’d make for me,” oh, he was arrogant, but it didn’t bother you one bit. No, his confidence and conviction made you hot, and your breaths came out in bursts. He drew you closer so you could feel his own response to the proximity, “How you’d crawl back to me and beg for more.” 

Your eyes almost rolled into the back of your head and you leaned your head against his shoulder, “Ohmygod,” it came out more slurred than you had anticipated. You reached up to his masked face, tugging at it slightly, “Kiss me please, Ghost.”

“Go on,” he instructed.

“Tell me when,” you breathed as you twisted to pull up the mask, stopping at the bridge of his nose when he said. He let you take him in, the strong curve of his jaw, his full lips, and the…light spray of freckles across his nose and cheeks. You traced his jaw, fingers dancing across his skin.  Lingering on the light scar above his lip. 

“You’re beautiful,” it was barely a whisper, barely audible. But it was enough for him. His hand shot from the desk, wrapping around your jaw before crashing his lips against yours. The kiss was erratic and deprived. After a year of circling each other and building up the frustration and tension, it felt like this was it was your time kissing anyone. The sensation of his mouth on yours made you burn. His tongue swept the line of yours, to which you wantonly open for him. He delved in, tongue running along the roof of your mouth, your tongue. The action made you well aware of the fact that if he got between your legs he’d make you scream with pleasure. You moaned, and he caught the sound, sucking your lip, and teeth biting down. He trailed wet, openmouthed kisses across your cheek, down your jaw, and sucked bruises into the supple skin of your neck. You whimpered, and it must have been a little too loud because a hand came to cover your mouth. 

“Unless you want to fill out an incident report tonight too, I suggest you use your inside voice,” he brought his mouth to your ear, his own pants fanning across your skin. You tugged at his vest, asking him to remove it. He removed his hand, “Say pretty please.” 

“Please, Ghost,” you tugged again, “I need to feel you,” Lord knows you’ve already waited long enough.  

He removed himself from you to unsnap it from his body with trained military ease, next was the black canvas jacket. The fabric of the black dry fit underneath was pulled tighter across his shoulders and chest. You were going to eat him alive. You were going to let him ruin you. You turned to face him fully and you hardly got the chance to reach out to him before he was over you again. His hands drove into your hair, around the back of your neck. Your hands ran across his chest, feeling hard muscle, the heat of him searing your palms. You travelled lower, untucking the shirt from his pants to gain access to his skin. Nails dug into his abdomen, leaving behind red lines. He hissed at the delicious pain.

Before you could register it, he was lifting you onto the desk and standing between your legs. He tugged you until you were flush with him, his hands securing you to him. You could feel his hard cock through the pants as it pressed into your stomach. You were in trouble. He was going to rip you apart. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t put it in until I have you nice and ready,” he must have felt you tense at the realization. You met his gaze, then started to roll your hips against him. His eyes widened before he slammed them shut and faced the ceiling. He didn’t let you get any further though. His hand shot to your chest, pushing you back until you were laying on your back. His nimble finger pushes your sweater up and pulls your pants down to your ankles. 

“Jesus fuck,” he croaked when he was met with your bare cunt. He pushed either leg to the side so he could have an interrupted view. His fingers grazed over you, and you jerked your hips up trying to meet his touch. 

“Don’t tease me,” you mewl at him, half tempted to relieve the ache yourself. 

All he could do was shake his head, eyes fixated on your arousal as it dripped down onto his desk. This time his fingers slide into your folds, coming to a halt at your clit. He made slow circles with his thumb. You gasped and had to bring the sleeve of your sweater to your mouth to bite so that you didn’t get too loud. He moved down and slid in two fingers, his brows furrowing in bliss as you greedily took him in. Your breasts tighten and you reach under your sweater to cup one and squeeze. His attention flicked to the activity and shoved the sweater higher so he could watch. The cold air was jarring, and your nipples hardened from both the temperature and arousal. 

Then he pulled his fingers back a couple of inches before slowly guiding them back in. He switched between watching your face morph with ecstasy and your pussy, enthralled with both but not sure which one to choose. He found a slow, teasing pace. One that was going to drive you to tears if he kept it up. 

“Faster,” you choked, trying to grind yourself on his hand but he stopped you with a stern grip on your hip. Yet he did as you asked, picking up speed and angling his hand so he could reach just a little deeper, and curving his fingers inside you. You couldn’t contain the moans anymore, and he seemed to have forgotten about the need to stay quiet. You started to shake as you neared your climax. You caught his expression, his lips parted and eyes glassy, you didn’t think he’d remember his name if you called to him. Your cunt tightened just as you started to cum. 

He removed his fingers.  

And dropped to his knees. 

He looked up at you, his pupils were completely blown, and placed your thighs on either shoulder and brought his mouth to you. You sobbed, frustrated with the stolen orgasm and the new stimulation. You placed your hands on the back of his head and pushed him further in. His tongue was way better than his fingers, and when he dragged it up the length of your length you thanked him. He sucked and licked and tasted you. The filthy wet sounds as he ate you out filled the room. You were so sure that if someone pressed their ear to his door they’d be able to hear it too. 

This time when you neared your orgasm you held him there, making sure he wasn’t going to pull away again. He groaned into you, and it was at just the right moment that the vibrations of it sent you spiralling. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you pant, tears pricking at your eyes. Your body went taut before it loosened. He stayed to lap you up. Placing chaste kissing on your clit. When he rose, he only wiped at the bottom of his chin to get rid of the cum dripping there so he could lick the rest of it from his lips. He leaned down to kiss you, allowing you a taste for yourself. 

You were going to ignite, and the only thing keeping you from doing so was digging your nails into his back. 

“Do you want more?” He asked, giving you an out should you have changed your mind. The thought of him going unrelieved after what he just did to you was absurd. You wanted him again and again and again. 

“I want all of you.”

He pulled away only to remove his shirt and undo his pants. His cock was hard, and you could see it pulse. He wrapped a hand around the middle, his thumb gliding over the head. 

“I’m on the pill. And Im clean,” you babbled. You wanted to feel him, without any barriers. 

“Are you sure?” he eyed you, “I have-”

“Yes.”

He didn’t waste any more time. He tapped the head of his cock against you, sliding his length into your folds, collecting the slick there. He rocked back and forth, holding himself against you with a thumb, “Shit.”  

“Fuck me. As hard as you need to,” he said before picking you up and sitting back into the chair behind him with you straddling his lap. He rested his hands on either hip; not to control or take charge but just because he wanted to touch you. Feel you in his arms. 

You swallowed as you guided him in, pausing at the head to adjust. Relax. If he hadn’t taken the time to warm you up, you would have shot right off him. The slight burn and stretch as you sank down onto him forced a cross between a squeak and a moan. You wished you could have captured his reaction on tape. His breath quivered, and he leaned his forehead on your shoulder. The both of you had thin coats of sweat on your hot, sensitive skin. Everywhere he touched you it felt like he brought with him flashes of lightning. 

“Just like that,” he grounded, tilting to the side to get a better look at where you connected. When you made the first rise and plunged back onto him, he nearly whimpered. You pulled back slightly, gauging his appearance before continuing. 

“I’m good,” he half laughed before tilting his head back and exposing his throat to you, “You’re just bloody tight.” 

“Well, you’re big,” you retorted, lifting yourself up and back down. 

“Mmm,” he shot you a conceited smile. 

So, he liked the occasional praise.   

You braced your arms on his shoulders, fingers dipping under his mask so you could grip at his hair underneath. You dragged a tongue up the column of this throat, the salt taste of sweat, and nipped at his jaw, “And so fucking hard.” 

His hips jerked up, meeting you on your descent. Hard. Lightening shot up your spin, and stars blocked your vision. Your pace picked up, chasing that pleasure. Riding him like it was the only thing keeping you alive. You racked your nails down the front of his chest, catching on his dog tags. Little red lines appeared. The desire to carve your name into his chest surfaced. You settled for your initials. 

He hissed at the mixture of pain and pleasure. His cock twitched inside of you, “Atta girl, mark me as yours.”

You rocked your hips against him, the muscles of his stomach providing extra stimulation against your clit. It left a trail of slickness and you would make damn sure licked him clean after. 

His groans turned into hot desperate whimpers, and his grip forced himself up and impossibly deeper. You squeezed around him.

“Good-” he choked, pulling you in to rest his forehead on yours, “Cum for me, baby.”

You did as you were told, your body convulsing and shuddering. You could feel it drip out of and onto him. 

He followed, fast and hard. You could feel him pulsating as his seed painted your walls white. It was hot and… a lot. He was leaking out of you and he was still inside you. 

You stayed like that for a couple of minutes. Catching your breath. Collecting your mind. 

“You think,” you paused, “you think they heard?” you asked, his team wasn’t far. They were either in their own room or congregated in the common area. Which was just down the hall. 

He pulled back, eyes searching your face, “Umm, yeah. You’re loud.” 

You faked an insulted gasp, “You’re loud.”

“No’m not,” he was. He wasn’t the silent type. You liked that. Liked it when your partners were vocal. 

“Liar,” you lifted yourself off him, cum dripping out as you did so. 

His chest seemed to puff out at the slight, pleased with his work. 

“You think they’ll see me?” you tightened your pussy, to keep it from leaking onto his floor. You pointed to the clothes he’d tossed onto his bed and he tossed you your shirt and pants. 

“They won’t say anything. There’s a shower in the bathroom,” he offered, you were just going to go back to your room and shower there, but it was a little risky. If the room smelt like sex, you did too. He followed you into the bathroom, flicking on the light, “Next time bring panties so you can walk around with my cum inside you,” he murmured as he watched. He pulled his mask back down over his face. At some point, he had pulled on some sweatpants. 

“You’re dirty,” you said playfully, locking eyes with him in the reflection. 

“Or better yet, we can fuck in your room so you won’t have to sneak back out.”

“You want to do the sneaking next time?” you tilted your head back to look up at him.

His eyes narrowed, “I’m really good at the sneaking.”

Because of his mask he wasn’t able to join in on the shower. But he did bend you over his backroom sink, holding your hands behind your back with one hand, and the other hand wrapped around your neck so he could make sure you watched as he fucked you from behind in the mirror. 

It was an hour before curfew when you finally slipped out of his room. He almost didn’t let you, tried pulling you back in. When you stepped into the common rooms, Gaz, and Soap pretended to be really interested in the walls, carpet, and couch. Price was nowhere to be seen. 

“The captain left a couple hours ago,” Gaz didn’t even look in your direction. 

He left a couple hours ago because that's when it all started and if he couldn’t hear anything he didn’t know anything. If he didn’t know anything he couldn’t get mad at anything. 

“Thank you,” you shoot back before very quickly exiting their barracks. 

Masterlist  ❤︎  Tag List Form

A/N - we love a vocal king

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