#which also leads to me lashing out to them which i feel awful about and i hate doing because im the oldest

[criminalmutantsins]

MK1 Johnny Cage (Song) Headcanons

I was inspired by @mothercetrion headcanon on Johnny’s past. You should visit their page and read some of their posts. They are very well-written! I like to connect songs with characters so I thought doing a headcanon post with songs would be a good idea. I’m also working on a regular headcanon post for Johnny as well. I love his MK1 version and feel the need to write about it. Lmk if I should make a Spotify playlist so all the songs are in one place.

TW: Heavy angst (Mention of bullying, alcoholism, parental abuse, domestic violence, and broken marriage)

I Started a Joke by Bee Gees 

- “I started a joke. Which started the whole world crying. But I didn’t see. That the joke was on me, oh no. I started to cry. Which started the whole world laughing. Oh, if I’d only seen. That the joke was on me.” 

Unfortunately, I firmly believe that Johnny was bullied and abused in his childhood. Most people who have an egotistical facade usually create that personality to protect themselves from horrible treatment. Johnny mentioned having daddy issues and an asshole brother he barely(if any) has contact with. I think his dad and, later, his brother tormented him for a long time, which I will further explain in another song. I want to focus on school bullies. Johnny seems to have always wanted to be an actor, so I think he focused on the performing arts like theatre, singing, and dancing. Sadly, it's not considered masculine to do those activities- a prime target for bullying. This treatment causes Johnny to feel like a joke to everyone. 

- “Til I finally died. Which started the whole world living. Oh, if I’d only seen. That the joke was on me.” 

This meant figuratively that Johnny’s original personality “died” and was replaced by his well-known facade to protect him from the bullying and stop him from feeling the pain. 

Blown Away by Carrie Underwood

-“Dry lightning cracks across the sky. Those storm clouds gather in her eyes. Her daddy was a mean old mister. Mama was an angel in the ground.” 

Johnny notices his parents’ turbulent relationship. His dad is an awful man and his mom is a kind person being tormented by her husband.

-“She heard those sirens screaming out. Her daddy laid there passed out on the couch. She locked herself in the cellar. Listened to the screaming of the wind. Some people called it taking shelter.” 

Johnny’s hiding from one of his parents’ violent arguments. His room is his hiding spot- a shelter and a prison- but it doesn’t protect him from hearing the arguments. The sirens are symbolic of Johnny’s mother since she used to be a police officer (an intro with Li Mei confirms it), so she is screaming at Johnny’s father who loves his life drinking and sleeping. 

-“There’s not enough rain in Oklahoma. To wash the sins out of that house. There’s not enough wind in Oklahoma. To rip the nails out of the past (blown away)” 

The awful memory leaves Johnny wishing that his childhood home could be destroyed with no trace, though he knows it will never erase what he’s gone through.

Numb by Linkin Park

- “I’m tired of being what you want me to be. Feeling so faithless, lost under the surface. Don’t know what you’re expecting of me. Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes. Every step that I take is another mistake to you (Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow).”

Johnny was abused by his father. He was pressured to be like his dad but would make “mistakes” (be himself), leading to his father lashing out at him. His dad is obsessed with masculinity and being a “traditional” man, which he pushes into Johnny. This puts them at odds since the performing arts (Johnny’s aspirations) are not considered masculine. 

- “I’ve become so numb. I can’t feel you there. Become so tired. So much more aware. I’m becoming this. All I want to do. Is be more like me. And be less like you.”

The constant pressure makes Johnny numb to the abuse and more aware of his father’s behavior. He wants the opportunity to be himself and the weight to lift off him. 

- “Can’t you see that you’re smothering me. Holding too tightly, afraid to lose control? ‘Cause everything that you thought I would be. Has fallen apart right in front of you.” 

He’s questioning his father’s behavior and needs to control him and the rest of the family (his mother and siblings). 

- “And I know. I may end up failing too. But I know. You were just like me with someone disappointed in you.”

Johnny fights back and decides to break the generational trauma cycle he and his dad have unwittingly been trapped in. His dad was in Johnny’s position and hated it, but decided to continue the cycle rather than end it.

Applause by Lady Gaga 

- “I stand here waiting for you to bang the gong. To crash the critic saying, “Is it right or is it wrong?” If only fame had an I.V, baby could I bear? Being away for you, I found the vein, put it in here.”

From some of his intros, Johnny sometimes gets defensive whenever anyone talks down about his career, and the first thing he brings up is how he makes his fans happy with his work. This makes me believe that Johnny loves his fans and they are the biggest reason he stays in Hollywood.

- “I live for the applause, applause, applause. I live for the applause-plause, live for the applause-plause, live for the way that you cheer and scream for me. The applause, applause, applause. Give me that thing that I love (I’ll turn the lights out). Put your hands up, make ‘em touch, touch (Make it real loud). Give me that thing that I love (I’ll turn the lightd out). Put your hands up, make ‘em touch, touch (Make it real loud).” 

For the first time in his life, Johnny is appreciated for his aspirations and it feeds into his need to feel wanted and accepted. He wants the applause and love to grow. 

- “I’ve overheard your theory, ‘Nostalgia’s for geeks.’ I guess sir, if you say so, some of us just like to read. One second I’m a Koons fan, suddenly the Koons is me. Pop culture was in art, now art’s in pop culture, in me.” 

Since Johnny is inspired by 80s action stars, critics condemn him for not being authentic. Johnny doesn’t care and, because of the love he gets, he considers himself to be a part of pop culture. 

Liability by Lorde 

-“Baby really hurt me, crying in the taxi. He don’t know me. Says her made the big mistake in my storm. Says it was poison.” 

This reminds me of Johnny’s chapter where Steven- the director- whom Johnny might’ve considered a friend, doesn’t seem to like him and purposefully distances me. This makes me believe that Johnny doesn’t have many friends because they don’t like his boastful, outgoing personality. 

- “So I guess I’ll go home. Into the arms of the girl that I love. The only I haven’t screwed up. She’s so hard to please, but she’s a forest fire.”

 With not having many friends and his marriage on the rocks, Johnny feels alone and feels he can only count on himself. Based on his intro with Kenshi about doing forty takes, it seems like Johnny is a perfectionist, so it wouldn’t be surprising if that sentiment extends to everything he does. That’s why he has this facade where he constantly inflates his ego and his capabilities because, on the inside, Johnny is hard on himself and has trouble finding his good qualities. 

- “They say “You’re a little too much for me. You’re a liability. You’re a little much for me.” So they pull back, make other plans. I understand, I’m a liability. Get you wild, make you leave. I’m a little much for everyone.” 

Johnny accepts that he’ll never have a true connection with someone, so he makes them leave sooner before they hurt him. 

- “The truth is I am a toy that people enjoy. ‘Till all of the tricks don’t work anymore. And then they are bored of me. I know that it’s exciting running through the night, but every perfect summer’s eating me alive until you’re gone. Better on my own. They’re gonna watch me disappear into the sun. You're all gonna watch disappear into the sun” 

This pertains to Johnny’s faltering career. He was a popular actor for a long time until it ran dry. It eats him up to see people- fans, his wife, and Hollywood- grow bored and annoyed with him. By the end of his chapter, he’s alone and feels hopeless. 

Midnight Rain by Taylor Swift 

- “My town was a wasteland. Full of cages, full of fences. Pageant queens and big pretenders. But for some, it was paradise.” 

Johnny’s world is Hollywood and the American dream. He wants to be the biggest star and feel at home in the acting business. 

- “My boy was a montage. A slow motion, love potion. Jumping off things in the ocean.”

I see Cris as someone who wanted a simple life full of love and family. She was supportive of Johnny’s dream but didn’t have his drive to live the Hollywood life. She expected Johnny to settle down once his career dwindled. 

- “He was sunshine, I was midnight rain. He wanted it comfortable. I wanted that pain. He wanted a bride. I was making my own. Chasing that fame. He stayed the same. All of me changed like midnight.” 

Johnny and Cris are different people with opposing goals. Cris wanted a comfortable life and Johnny to focus on their relationship, while Johnny was consumed in his dreams and staying relevant. 

- “It came like a postcard. Picture perfect, shiny family. Holiday, peppermint candy. But for him it’s everyday. So I peered through a window. A deep portal, time travel. All the love we unravel. And the life I gave away.”

If one of them conformed to what the other wanted instead of compromise, they would’ve given away their dream life and lost their love. 

- “I guess sometimes we all get just what we wanted, just what we wanted. And he never thinks of me. Except when I’m on TV. I guess sometimes we all get some kind of haunted, some kind of haunted. And I never think of him. Except on midnights like this.” 

By the end of their marriage, Johnny and Cris barely connect with each other. Cris lives her own life and only sees Johnny when his movies are on TV. Johnny is so busy with work and doesn’t focus on his personal life until he’s home late at night.  

Anti-Hero by Taylor Swift 

(This kind of continues my thoughts from “Liability” by Lorde.) 

- “I have this thing where I get older but just never wise. Midnights become my afternoons. When my depression works the graveyard shift. All of the people I’ve ghosted stand there in the room. I should not be left to my own devices. They come with prices and vices. I end up in crises (tale as old as time). I wake up screaming from dreaming. One day I’ll watch as you’re leaving. ‘Cause you got tired of my scheming (for the last time).”

Even though Johnny knows his career is dwindling, Johnny continues to work and revive it- something Hollywood people would consider unwise. His fears and depression leave him up at night and thinks about the people who left him and people he had to step over to make it in showbiz. His deepest fear is everyone he cares about- Cris and his fans- leaving him because they become bored of him. This is where he develops his alcoholism (this will be explained in another song). 

- “It’s me, hi, I’m the problem, it’s me. At tea time, everybody agrees. I’ll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror. It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero.”

Johnny knows his alcoholism is messing up his relationship with Cris but is scared of facing it, making him the anti-hero in the story. 

- “Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby. And I’m a monster on the hill. Too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city. Pierced through the the heart, but never killed.” 

It goes with how Hollywood works- younger, prettier actors have a higher standing than older actors. Johnny feels like people see him as a monster who ruins things, but they aren’t willing to “kill” his ambition. 

- “I have this dream my daughter in-law kills me for the money. She thinks I left them in the will. The family gathers ‘round and reads it and then someone screams out. “She’s laughing up at us from hell.” 

Johnny fears his ambition will kill him and that the people who don’t care about him will take advantage of it. 

Rehab by Amy Winehouse 

- “They tried to make me go to rehab, but I said, ‘No, no, no.’ Yes, I’ve been black, but when I come back, you’ll know, know, know. I ain't got the time and if my daddy thinks I’m fine.” 

Cris is trying to get Johnny to go to rehab for his alcoholism, but he refuses because he wants to focus on reigniting his career and he reasons that nobody else is concerned. 

- “I’d rather be at home with Ray. I ain't got seventy days. ‘Cause there’s nothing, there’s nothing you can teach me. That I can’t learn from Mr. Hathaway.” 

Johnny wants to continue working and being at home. He doesn’t think he has a problem and, if he did, Johnny doesn’t think anyone can help. 

- “The man said ‘Why do you think you are here?’ I said, ‘I got no idea.’ I’m gonna, I’m gonna lose my baby. So I always keep a bottle near. He said, ‘I just think you’re depressed.’ This, me: ‘Yeah, baby, and the rest.’”

Johnny goes to a therapist (Cris gave him an ultimatum). The therapist tells Johnny that it’s just depression and to stop drinking. Johnny can’t seem to stop because drinking takes away the pain he’s feeling. 

- “I don’t ever wanna drink again. I just, ooh, I just need a friend. I’m not gonna spend ten weeks. Have everyone think I’m on the mend. It’s not just my pride. It’s just till these tears have dried.”  

Johnny hates drinking but feels like it’s the only way to escape his loneliness and stress. He’s scared that his career will be over and his fans will leave him if he goes to rehab. 

Hollywood by MARINA 

- “American queen is the American dream. American queen is the American dream.”

This is the mantra Johnny says to motivate himself to continue his career.

- “I asked her ‘Why would you wanna be a Hollywood wife?’ ‘Because I don’t wanna end up living in a dive on Vine.” 

Johnny doesn’t want to live a life less than his dreams. He’ll do anything to live his dreams. 

- “Trying to stimulate a mind. That is slowly starting to decay. I itch my skin, I jump up and say. Lady, I know why your thoughts turn gray.”

Exhaustion and alcohol are infecting Johnny’s brain and dulling his thoughts. He’s barely present in his personal life- marriage and home. 

- “Hollywood infected your brain. You wanted kissing in the rain. Oh oh, (I’ve been) living in a movie scene. Pukin American dreams. Oh oh, I’m obsessed with the mess that’s America. I’m obsessed with the mess that’s America.” 

The price of striving for fame is catching up to Johnny, yet he’s willing to ignore it due to being obsessed with his desires. 

- “A fat security making plays for me. As soon as I touch down in, old L.A., he said… ‘Oh my god, you look just like Shakira. No no, you’re Catherine Zeta.” Actually, my name’s Marina.”

This is a reference to how Hollywood has a surplus of stars that can overshadow each other. Since Johnny is no longer a big star, people mistake him for a lookalike. His individualism in the industry is dying.

Oh No! by MARINA (& The Diamonds) 

- “Don’t do love, don’t do friends. I’m only after success. Don’t need a relationship. I’ll never soften my grip. Don’t want cash, don’t want card. Want it fast, want it hard. Don’t need money don’t need fame. I just want to make a change. I just wanna change.”

Johnny’s obsession evolves into him ignoring everything- his relationships and income- to maintain and grow his success.

- “I know exactly what I want and who I want to be. I know exactly why I walk and talk like a machine. I’m now becoming my own self-fulfilled prophecy. Oh! Oh no! Oh no! Oh, no, oh!”

His singular goal can be compared to a program, making Johnny out to be a machine. He’s also realizing that his alcoholism is leading him into a similar path to his father’s. This could be seen as a self-fulfilled prophecy because children usually copy their parents’ behavior, even the bad ones, and the phrase “like father, like son.” It terrifies him. 

- “One track mind, one track heart. If I fail, I’ll fall apart. Maybe it is all a test. ‘Cause, I feel like I’m the worst. So I always act like I’m the best.”

Johnny wonders if his downfall is karma since he had to step over people to build his career or a test of his character. The last two lines reference his feelings of inadequacy due to his childhood and the birth of his movie star persona.

- “If you are not very careful. Your possessions will possess you. TV taught me how to feel. Now real life has no appeal. It has no appeal.” 

In his chapter, Johnny tells Cris that they can’t cut back on cash because acting like a success makes people perceive you that way. This shows how Johnny's spending habits are consuming him. 

During his childhood, Johnny coped with his father’s abuse and his mother working all the time by watching TV. TV raised Johnny, and it made his reality- good or bad- unappealing. 

- “I’m gonna live, I’m gonna fly. I’m gonna fail, I’m gonna die. “I’m gonna live, I’m gonna fly. I’m gonna fail, I’m gonna die, die, die, die, die.” 

Johnny identifies failing as dying and succeeding as living. He thinks retiring his career will kill his confident persona and revert him to the sad child he was. 

Are You Satisfied? By MARINA 

-“I was pulling out my hair. The day I got the deal, chemically calm. Was I meant to feel happy that my life was about to change?” 

Because of his health issues- alcoholism and depression, Johnny is starting to feel numb towards his work, to the point where getting a role doesn’t excite him. 

-“One life pretending to be the cat who got the cream. Oh, everybody said, ‘Marina is a dreamer.’ People like to tell you what you’re gonna be. It’s not my problem if you don’t see what I see. And do not give a damn if you don’t believe.” 

Johnny is reminded of the people in his childhood who called him a dreamer and tried to tell him what he should do with his life. He never saw why his life was anyone’s problem. 

-“My problem, it’s my problem. That I never am happy. It’s my problem, it’s my problem. On how fast I will succeed. Are you satisfied with an average life? Do I need to lie to make my way in life?” 

With no big payoff, Johnny starts to ponder if an average life will satisfy him and make him happy. If not, does he have to start lying to himself and others to continue his Hollywood life. 

-“High achiever, don’t you see? Baby, nothing comes for free. They say I’m a control freak. Driven by a greed to succeed. Nobody can stop me.”

One of his intro with Kenshi has the latter complaining about doing forty takes with Johnny arguing that the shot has to be perfect. It lead me to believe that Johnny is a perfectionist since he is driven by his need to succeed. 

-“Cause it’s my problem if I want to pack up and run away. It’s my business if I feel the need to smoke and drink and sway. It’s my problem, it’s my problem if I feel the need to hide. And it’s my problem if I have no friends and feel I want to die.” 

Johnny realizes his problems yet doesn’t push himself to get the help he needs. He thinks no one except him could handle his issues. Johnny feels that it’s his fault that he let alcohol control his life, has depression, and has no friends. 

-“Are you satisfied with an easy ride? Once you cross the line, will you be satisfied? Sad inside in this life, unsatisfied, prayin’. Sad inside in this life, unsatisfied, waitin’.” 

He wonders again whether regular life with more simplistic issues will satisfy him and if he should cross the line and consider letting go of his career. The difficult decision makes it more despondent and he prays for an answer. He finds his answer by the end of the game- to step back from the industry for a while and focus on his personal life.  

The Reason by Hoobastank 

-“I’m not a perfect person. There’s many things I wish I didn’t do. But I continue learning. I never meant to do those things to you. And so, I have to say before I go. That I just want you to know.” 

After going through therapy, training at Wu Shi Academy, and the Outworld adventure, Johnny realizes his mistakes and wants to apologize to Cris before they go their separate ways. 

-“I’m sorry that I hurt you. It’s something I must live with everyday. And all the pain I put you through. I wish that I could take it all away. And be the one catches all your tears. That’s why I need you to hear.”

He realizes the full extent of pain Johnny put her through. He’s remorseful and wishes he could go back to listen and comfort her. 

-“I’ve found a reason for me. To change who I used to be. A reason to start over new. And the reason is you. I’ve found a reason to show. A side of me you didn’t know. A reason for all that I do. And the reason is you.”

Johnny wants Cris to know how much he’s grown and will be a better person. Although sad it had to come to it, Johnny thanks Cris for letting him go since it led him to get the help he needed and continue to heal old wounds he kept hidden. 

..................

BONUS (These songs are from Cris’ point of view to Johhny.): 

All I Wanted by Paramore 

- “Think of me when you’re out, when you’re out there. I’ll beg you nice from my knees. And when the world treats you way too fairly. Well, it’s a shame I’m a dream. All I wanted was you.”

Every time Johnny leaves for his hours-long shoots, Cris hopes he thinks of her, but knows that she’ll always be second to his career. Although their marriage was always on her mind. 

- “I think I’ll pace my apartment a few times. And fall asleep on the couch. And wake up early to black-and-white reruns. That escaped from my mouth.” 

When Cris is alone, she wanders through their house and watches movies. She mostly watches Johnny’s movies to fill the hole of him not being with her most of the time. 

- “I could follow you to the beginning. Just to relive the start. And maybe then we’d remember to slow down. At all of our favorite parts.” 

Cris would do anything to have a semblance of their old relationship- before Johnny got famous- back. She hopes that if it happens then Johnny will be more attentive, and they can live a happy life. 

Call Me When You’re Sober by Evanescence 

- “Don’t cry to me, if you loved me. You would be here with me. You want me, come find me. Make up your mind.” 

Cris is frustrated with Johnny and tells him that if he loved her then he would pay attention to her and her needs instead of his career. 

- “Should I let you fall, lose it all. So maybe you can remember yourself? Can’t keep believing. We’re only deceiving ourselves. And I’m sick of the lie. And you’re too late.” 

Cris contemplates letting Johnny’s alcoholism overtake him since he never listens to her advice on going to therapy or rehab. She also thinks that letting him fall could bring back John Carlton, the man she fell in love with. 

- “Couldn’t take the blame, sick with shame. Must be exhausting to lose your own game, selfishly hated. No wonder you’re jaded. You can’t play the victim this time. And you’re too late.”

Cris is tired of being responsible for Johnny's health and reducing his problems to inconveniences. She wants him to stop playing the victim and take responsibility because she can’t take care of him anymore. 

- “You never call me when you’re sober. You only want it ‘cause it’s over, it’s over.” 

Their relationship only revolves around Johnny’s career and alcoholism instead of their love. 

Losing Grip by Avril Lavigne 

-“Are you aware of what you make me feel? Baby. Right now I feel invisible to you, like I’m not real. Didn’t you feel me lock my arms around you? Why’d you turn away? Here’s what I have to say. I was left to cry there. Waiting outside there. Grinning with a lost stare. That’s when I decided.”

Cris is frustrated at Johnny being distant and inattentive. It makes her feel invisible and unimportant in his life. She questions why he acts this way when he should be treating her like his wife. It leaves her feeling desperate and lonely, but she hides it with a smile. 

-“Why should I care? ‘Cause you weren’t there. When I was scared. I was so alone. You, you need to listen. I’m starting to trip. I’m losing my grip and I’m in this thing alone.” 

Cris wonders why she’s even staying in the marriage. She’s scared of losing Johnny to his alcoholism and his obsession with work; as well as the financial troubles that were accumulating. Instead of listening and being there for her, Johnny decides to ignore the problems, making her feel alone in their marriage. 

-“Am I just some chick you place beside you to take somebody’s place? When you turn around can you recognize my face? You used to love me, you used to hug me. But that wasn’t the case. Everything wasn’t okay.”

Cris starts to think Johnny only wants her around to fill a role anyone can take such as a caregiver (not his intention). She sees Johnny’s eyes go through her like she’s a stranger and he rarely gives her affection. Unfortunately, Johnny’s exhaustion from working and alcoholism affects his ability to focus on what’s going on around him. 

-“Why should I care? ‘Cause you weren’t there. When I was scared. I was so alone. Why should I care? If you don’t care then I don’t care. We’re not going anywhere.” 

Cris continues pondering about their marriage, though it ends with her deciding that she’s exhausted her commitment to the marriage and has to leave before it further destroys her.

#johnny cage #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 2023 #headcanons #mortal kombat headcanons #mk headcanons #mk1 headcanons #song headcanons #cris mortal kombat #cris mk #bee gees #carrie underwood #linkin park #lady gaga #lorde #taylor swift #amy winehouse #MARINA #marina and the diamonds #hoobastank #paramore #evanescence #avril lavigne

[sophierequests]

Can I request a Darkling x reader where she's best friends with Kaz, Jasper, and Inej (I'm not sure if I spelt it right so I'm freaking out OH MY GOSH) and he gets jealous (but he has nothing to worry about) and he also yells at her, which makes her scared, and he feels awful afterwards? Maybe angst with a happy ending as a genre/vibe? If not I completely understand. Have a nice day ❤

between brick and mortar

𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧┃𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭┃𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬

Pairing: The Darkling x gn!Reader

A/N: Sooo, my characterization of the Darkling is kinda me, but I am still working on it, so I hope this is not too ooc for your liking. I hope you like the fic, and thank you for requesting this!

Summary: Aleksander dislikes the relationship the reader has with her old best friends, leading him to lash out on her

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: Mention of bruises and yelling

The sun had just begun to set when your coach reached the grounds of the Little Palace. You felt tired and terribly nauseous, while you wobbly stepped on the steady grounds of the courtyard. It didn’t really help that you had spent the last few days either on a wonky ship or inside the clammy coach.

Even though you were glad to be back in Ravka, you already began to miss your old home back in Ketterdam. The city wasn’t that much of a treat to come back to. Its dirty streets with their putrid smell didn’t truly catch your interest. There were certain people that you did miss, however.

Your old friends, who were more like a little fucked up family to you, had you coming back regularly. The Crows, consisting of Kaz, Inej and Jesper, took you in when you found out about your Grisha abilities. Soon you moved in with them, spending every waking moment with helping and supporting your newfound family.

Obviously, they didn’t appreciate it when you decided to go to Ravka to advance in your Grisha training. They also didn’t appreciate it when you told them about the relationship you had with General Kirigan - also known as the Darkling. Kaz almost whacked you with his cane, when you told them about what had happened between the two of you. Inej and Jesper only gave you judgy expressions, trying to talk you out of it.

Once they realized how good you felt - and looked - after you came back to visit them, they slowly but surely got around to accepting it. They didn’t like it, but they noticed what he did for you, and how much he helped to develop your abilities, so they didn’t try to get you away from him. (Even though Inej did threaten to stab him if he’d ever try to hurt you.)

Aleksander wasn’t too fond of your friendship with them either. You noticed the displeased expression he gave you when you talked about all the things you experienced with them, all the heists you went on together, or just in general about the strong bond you still had with them.

Sometimes you thought back to the first time you went back to Ketterdam, after getting together with the General. He suggested accompanying you, but you just laughed at that. Having the Darkling stay in a crooked town, such as your old home, wasn’t really the best idea. The evening before you left, he just spent most of the evening sulking, visibly distressed by your decision to hold on to your past. It was a mystery to him why you still decided to spend time with people that weren’t as appreciative of the Grisha powers as he was. You also came to the conclusion, that he might be slightly jealous of the close relationship you had with them, but you knew that he would never admit it.

After finally climbing up the mountain of stairs to his chambers, you slipped into the room, dropping your bags on the floor right by the heavy entrance door. The room had always looked surreal to you, since it was completely different to the places and flats you knew from the Slat. It looked enormous, making you feel like a tiny being in the utter vastness of space.

Much to your dismay, you didn’t find your partner laying in the bed, sleeping peacefully and waiting for your arrival. At first, you didn’t find him at all. Until you heard the distinct shuffling of paper coming from the cramped office space he insisted on keeping unchanged.

You frowned, knowing that he probably didn’t plan on sleeping, most likely worrying over some new military scheme.

Without a sound, you slid into his office - a habit you had picked up from Inej - walking over to the desk, that he was currently hunched over. His black hair was messy, but all in all, he still appeared quite well put together. You could see him playing with his rings erratically, a sign that he was evidently unsatisfied with what he had in front of him.

Your hand moved to lay on his shoulder, the rest of your body following to lean against his side, allowing you to take a peek at the array of maps and documents sprawled out on the wooden table. He shuddered slightly, almost unnoticeable, he was surprised but not startled.

“Good evening, love.” he cooed, straightening his back, and facing you fully.

His hands found your waist, and yours wrapped around his shoulders. He leaned down a little, pressing his lips against yours softly. Even though you adored his passionate kisses, you were way too tired for this kind of ecstasy, and he knew that.

“Good evening, you look tired. How long have you been working?” you said, as you let go to smile at him.

He sighed, his dark tired eyes scanned you intently as if he was looking for something that had changed whilst you were out of his sight.

“Quite a while, but it’s important that I finish this as soon as I’m able to.” he answered, already knowing that you would’ve asked him to join you in bed.

“Are you sure? I missed you sleeping next to me.” you mumbled, stifling a yawn.

“So did I, but I truly have to finalize this. Don’t worry about me, I’ll join you tomorrow.” his low voice trying to appease you, “Go to sleep, darling. I’m right here in case you need me.”

With one last peck on his cheek, you left the room, throwing yourself on the bed, sleep finding you sooner than expected.

The shutting of the door awoke you from your deep sleep. When you turned to your side, you noticed a note lying on your nightstand, right next to a glass of water, that had been placed there only recently. It read:

Don’t wait for me with breakfast, I have a meeting. We’ll see each other in the evening. Cure your headache.

You sighed, the hopes to spend a cosy morning with your boyfriend disappeared immediately. But you didn’t have too much time to fret over this change of plan, breakfast was soon to be served, and your energy levels were in desperate need of some food.

The rest of your day was spent finishing dull tasks that you had been putting off forever. Your thoughts always seemed to wander between the time you had spent with your friends and the moments you spent with Aleksander. You knew how challenging it could be for all parties involved. You were well aware of your boyfriend’s distaste for the Ketterdam lifestyle, but you also knew that you’d never willingly let go of your old friends.

Whilst you were contemplating this apparent conflict, Aleksander had already entered the room, watching you fold the laundry you had just received from the maids. You were merely dressed in a loosely fitting top and short shorts, that showed off a big portion of your back.

He was clearly agitated, apparently whatever meeting he just had been in, didn’t go as planned. His mood only soured when he spotted an array of bruises trailing down your spine. It wasn’t anything serious, but it made him even more furious, supposedly knowing who to blame for it.

He grabbed your upper arm tightly, forcing you to jump and spin around hastily.

“Saints, you scared me!” you chuckled, not yet aware of his current temper.

“What in all Saints happened to your back? I told you, these people aren’t the crowd you’d want to surround yourself with.” he snarled, a rash pang of anger rising up in his chest.

His sudden change in demeanour gave you goosebumps. He was known to be stern, and you were well aware that he could be able to lose his temper if things went terribly wrong, but during all of your relationship he never once had raised his voice against you. When you didn’t answer, he opened his mouth again.

“I asked you a question. What happened?”

“Aleksander, what do you mean? The bruises on my back?” you questioned meekly, voice already quivering, “It’s nothing really. I just tried to help out Kaz and Inej, and got myself pulled into a tiny…dispute.”

“You can’t be serious. Do you really think I care about your little criminal friends?” he spat, his voice getting louder, “I would’ve never let you go back there again if I knew that this is how you’d come back. I can’t believe you’d ever consider going back to these deplorable children.”

Tears were welling up in your eyes as you ripped your arm away from his tight grasp. You couldn’t believe that he would talk about the people you called family like this.

“This is what you think of them? They were the only people I had, Aleksander. They are good people, even though you don’t seem to accept that. This wouldn’t even be a problem if you wouldn’t make one out of it.” you stammered back, now actually crying.

“Maybe you should consider the people you decide to waste your time on.” he retorted, frustrated by your rebuttal.

“You know what? Maybe I should.” you whispered, barely audible to him, “I think I should leave, or I might say things I’ll regret later. Have a fantastic night.”

With that, you dashed through the door, slamming it shut tightly. Aleksander was left alone, standing in the middle of his now empty bedroom. His previous anger was suddenly replaced with a foreign feeling of guilt. He had no right to yell at you the way he did. But somehow the sight of seeing you hurt, paired with his prior frustration, made him lose all his senses and rational thinking.

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose to keep him from throwing something around the room. Much to his dismay, there was only one way to make this up to you. He had to apologize.

Without hesitating any longer, he threw open the door in an instant, striding through the halls of the Little Palace in an attempt to hide his tense thoughts. People tend to call him heartless, and in moments like these, he did his best to keep up this image, never showing any emotion that would betray him.

He knew that you wouldn’t be inside the Palace. You wouldn’t risk just accidentally running into him in the halls. But he knew that you had one place, where you would always go when you had a bad day. Whether it was a failed training unit, an especially hard study topic or just a generally bad day, you would always go to the hidden lake, close to Baghra’s hut. He had never understood why you chose this exact spot since you weren’t particularly fond of his mother, but you were always there without a fail.

You heard his heavy steps approaching, way before he actually chose to make himself present. There was no need in talking or visibly acknowledging his presence, since this would only make you angrier, having to take the first step again. So you waited until he saw it fit to talk.

“You’re going to catch a cold.” he said matter-of-factly, trying to get you to accept his attempt at conversation-making.

When you didn’t answer, he chose to take a few more steps, to appear in your vision, that was still focused on the body of water in front of you. He was relieved that you weren’t crying any more, but your eyes still appeared to be slightly puffy, and your expression had turned sour.

“I’m here to apologize, Y/N.” he tried to begin, but you just felt like laughing at that.

“The Darkling does not apologize. Not to anyone.” you retorted, watching him scowl at the mention of his alias. You knew he didn’t like when you called him that.

“Then let this be a first.” his tone was way softer than before, making you relax, “I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you like that. It was unjust to treat you like that.”

“Then why did you? You know that the Crows are like family to me. Why would you say that?” you interjected carefully, not wanting to be too confrontational with him.

“I dislike when you’re with them because I don’t think they value you as I do. I don’t hate them, and I like seeing you enjoy your time with them, but I can’t stand seeing you get hurt because of their…negligence.”

You sighed, looking up into his eyes for the first time since he came to look for you. His eyes were hard to read, even for you, but now they seemed to be filled with something close to remorse.

“It wasn’t their fault. I tried to help and things went south. That’s a thing we have to deal with wherever we go, Aleksander. They do care for me, but they aren’t Grisha. They can’t protect me like you do, but that is fine.” you said gently, waiting for him to say or do something.

“I’m aware, and I’m…sorry for the things I said. It was never my intention to hurt you, but things just went…wrong.” he chose his words wisely.

“Our intentions betray us sometimes.” you chuckled bitterly, but gradually getting around to accepting his apology.

“Apologizing may not be my strong suit, but I still want you to know that I’m truly sorry.”

“If I’d try to tell anyone that the General Kirigan has just apologized to someone and meant it, they wouldn’t believe me. So I am inclined to accept it. Just because it’s not every day that you see a miracle.”

He chuckled in response, offering you a hand to pull you off the muddy ground. You gladly took it, starting to regain the bubbly feeling of excitement you had when you were around him.

“Now, let’s go back to the Palace. I suppose there are some travel stories you have to get off of your chest.”

#shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone #sab #grishaverse fanfic #grishaverse #grishaverse x reader #the darkling #the darkling x reader #aleksander morovoza #aleksander morozova x reader #six of crows

[wolfnesta]

Hello! Can I pick your brain for a moment? I’ve finished all of ACOTAR, and I really do enjoy nesta. She’s real and raw. But I guess where I’m kind of stuck is why she was always spending feyres coppers that she worked for, was it retaliation? Or was it because she was angry at their dad? I hope it’s okay to ask, maybe I just need to reread ACOSF?

I’m honored anon! Since you mentioned acosf I’m thinking you mean when Nesta is drinking and getting rent money for free right? If you mean at the beginning of acotar I believe SJM didn’t have anything in mind for Elain and Nesta other than to make the reader pity Feyre and then later SJM tried to give that behavior meaning by saying Nesta did it out of hatred to make her father get up and do something 🤷🏻‍♀️ I’m kind of meh about that whole thing.

If you mean in acosf, Nesta’s depression seems to make her feel outcasted ‘…had only been able to stand and watch them all, their joy and closeness, as if she were looking in through a window’ and also resentful— with Elain ‘Elain could make her own choices. And had chosen to thoroughly shut the door on Nesta. Even as she fully embraced Feyre and her world.’ and Feyre ‘How could she explain the tangle between her and her sister? The self-loathing that threatened to consume her every time she looked at her sister’s face?’ and also suffers from what seems like ptsd ‘Some days, the sheer dread and panic locked Nesta's body up so thoroughly that nothing could get her to breathe. Nothing could stop the awful power from beginning to rise, rise, rise in her. Nothing beyond the music at those taverns, the card games with strangers, the endless bottles of wine, and the sex that made her feel nothing but offered a moment of release amid the roaring inside her.’ All of which leads to alot of self hatred ‘every damning thing Rhysand thought of her was true— and she’d known it long before he had shadowed her doorstep. … Better to spend her time the way she wished’ (also the many times Nesta insists she ‘failed’). Plus the whole idea that Nesta has never had a choice in her life even pre poverty years ‘So your mother took Nesta creative joys and twisted them into a social climbing arsenal?’ I want to say those are the over all reasons Nesta turns to this harmful behavior. It interesting to me that SJM made sure to include that last part of Nesta’s life in her story because, though I feel like all the unresolved hate for her father is important, I would’ve thought we would also see Nesta heal from her mother and grandmothers mistreatment. But alas.

I want to add a personal note that it was heavily disappointing for me how SJM definitely knew how to portray these difficult aspects of mental illness but then she did what she did to Nesta and I’m like, okay wait no this is awful. This can’t be the same author that is able to show Nesta pushing family members away, not coping well, turning to alcohol and still make it seem that the very people that are supposedly ‘helping’ her can forcibly isolate her, slut shame her, physically threaten her, take her on a suicidal hike, show little to no care for her well being, take all of that and make it seem justifiable. Just. How do two wrongs make it right? Like it can’t be the one and the same author taking this good thing and then adding that to it .Nesta’s self loathing, anger, and her lashing out is an honest nod to how mental illness can manifest itself and I’d give SJM kudos for that except I realize this part of the story that you’re asking about anon was added purely to degrade Nesta instead of for realistic reasons and it’s visible in the way she has her mains react to Nesta. SJM was able to bring all this rawness to the table then butchered it. I know this ask isn’t about the topic here but anon I think you would benefit alot from reading the post because my dear @ae-neon is so much better at articulating a lot of the issues going on in those initial moments of acosf.

Anyhow, I hope that helps ❤️

#anti sjm #anti acosf #pro nesta archeron #nesta deserves better

[bitimdrake]

rereading nightwing (2011) #30 and god i have. so many thoughts about it. And also I still cannot get a coherent hold on it.

This post is really just a mess of me rambling for myself and spewing thoughts out, so I'm putting it under the cut and read at your own discretion and curiosity.

first off, we basically only talk about the middle part, but this comic is actually three sections and it's. bad?

it's just so awkward. This is a transitional issues, but it's not even a well executed one. It's not even a mediocre one. It's very blunt and inconsistent in abruptly shoving the story forward to make way for a Grayson status quo.

The three sections all have different styles and very different tones, but they are also directly related to each other. So it's not like they work as three different vignettes sharing an issue. But they also don't make a particularly cogent whole.

And they definitely do not come even close to the kind of satisfying ending you'd typically want to see at the end of a run.

Like: the first section is Leslie recounting to Bruce how she ran into Spyral. A section which, you will note, does not include our lead and title character in any way, nor is it remotely emotionally relevant or meaningful to him on first read, nor is it remotely related to anything in the run previously. It's a Batman Inc scene that got lost and landed in the wrong issue.

And then the second section (Bruce fights Dick until he agrees to go undercover) and the third (intro to Grayson with Dick doing international crimefighting to lure in Spyral recruitment) are plot-wise directly connect and yet. Could not be more at odds.

sec. 2 Dick has a very bad time being pushed into this by Bruce, and he hates it, and the whole thing is very violent and dark and grim, and Dick ends the section saying things can never be the same between him and Bruce.

and then sec. 3 Dick has a classic inner monologue about who he is and where he's been, that includes how Bruce saved him from being an angry, revenge-obsessed kid, and how he loves his family and is defined by being a legacy. And shows zero concern at what he's doing except a mild mention that after the Crime Syndicate he wanted to go back but he couldn't.

are you seeing what i'm talking about here. are you seeing how this is technically a continuous plot, but on every other level makes no goddamn sense

anyway let's talk about dick and bruce, but first specifically about Bruce because I still do not get him here

"get him" does not mean "agree" (or even "empathize") but literally just get it. Even when I fucking hate him I have at a basic level understood what was going on in his head previously. I do not now.

Bruce was already abusive ofc, but the thing that really threw me off the first time I read this--and that still feel jarring--is how completely different this is from any of his previous violence towards his kids.

He's not suddenly lashing out in a moment of high emotion. He waited for Dick to be ready and laid out the rules (non-rule) of the fight. And it's not even about some deeply personal matter that he's getting emotional over. Yes, Dick's recent brief death is a key part, but mostly Bruce is monologuing about the danger of this one random secret organization.

The whole thing is so planned, which is never something I've thought of his previous physical abuse, and it feels fucking awful.

It also just feels so irrational. And not in a "people who are very emotional make questionable decisions" way, but in a "I'm genuinely struggling to understand how the character got here way"

Bruce is upset that he recently watched Dick die. No question there. And so he....wants to send Dick undercover with Spyral?

??????

Like I can try to explain this as some variation of the classic 'push people away so caring about them won't hurt me again', but that's really not how it feels? It doesn't track. Bruce has pushed Dick away plenty before, and he does it by some combination of explosive anger, complete emotional shutdown, and literally telling Dick to leave. But like. This is not that. He's instead ensnaring Dick in a long fight and longer conversation and telling him not to leave, but to go do something specific. And it's not even really pushing him away!! Because Bruce is still asking Dick to do a thing for him, under his control! No. wrong vibe. Explanation rejected.

Second attempted explanation: section one of this issue ends with Leslie telling Bruce that, because of super Spyral interrogation powers, she might have revealed his identity and can't even remember. So Bruce is deeply troubled by that, and Dick's identity was just revealed to the world which compounds things ("you let them give your secrets to the world"), and now he is deeply concerned with figuring out what Spyral knows/stopping info from spreading and sending Dick to handle that.

I also hate this explanation. It feels dumb. Ridiculous priorities. (also, boy, it does not paint Bruce in a good light. but the bad light it paints him in is an all new one.) Ugh.

I really really just cannot create an explanation for Bruce here that feels coherent with my understanding of him, and I hate that.

And my understanding of him is of him as an abusive father!! So imagine how inexplicable this must feel! But this is the wrong kind of abusive father for what he's been before idk i don't even know if i make sense anymore

new thought time

for the first ~2/3 of the fight, I was thinking that on reread, I could kinda see how some very dumb and oblivious writer would not see how horrific and abusive it would be in the end:

Two characters are disagreeing, and one is going to convince the other by the end. So it's dramatic, and makes the art reflect the story, to have them spar as they're talking! Both script and art are a spar!

Bruce is trying to ~prove Dick will never break~ so it'll be fitting for him to fight Dick, and then call it off when Dick indeed proves he won't give up an gets the upper hand!

Misjudge just how violent the fight will come off. Write panels where Dick is on the ground looking up/being beaten by Bruce/getting injured, because you're going for the classic structure of the hero getting their ass kicked at the start before turning things around later on, but accidentally make those too pained.

blah blah blah, completely overlook the fact that these two are father and son with the power dynamic that implies, and fail to tune the dialogue so that you don't realize it seems less like Bruce is convincing and more like he's coercing

and maybe, theoretically, a writer with real bad instincts could think this would be less horrific than it is

...I thought for the first chunk of the fight, still trying to come up with a rational explanation for this scene, even if only a Doylist one

EXCEPT

Towards the end of the fight, Bruce literally says he knows he's hurting Dick, "my family," and calls Dick "my boy" and then punches Dick in the face so like. I'm sorry you can't do this by accident. If you wrote this by accident you are simply too stupid to be alive and I refuse to believe you can exist.

so anyway I don't have a Doylist explanation for this either :/

they really did just straight up have bruce beat up his son and have said son literally say it could never be the same between them after this, and then were like. yeah :) this is fine :) back to bruce solving crimes as batman :)

FINAL SECTION: random assorted things that make me mad

right before the fight when Alfred can't get into the cave and Bruce, who planned this, lies about it being a malfunction he's fixing

alfred tries to ask if he's alright after "master richard's... the boy's passing". Quote Bruce "Dick was never a boy." (this would make me want to slap him in the best of circumstances but I just want him dead)

the beat early on where Bruce gets a good shot in and Dick is sitting, and he pauses to ask Bruce what's really going on, and Bruce kicks him in the face

genuinely just the number of panels in this that are Dick on the ground, Dick getting punched/kicked/hit, Dick slamming into some solid piece of the environment

Dick keeps questioning this idea and bringing up new points and then just outright asking how Bruce can do this to him. And literally never once does Bruce reply to any of it.

Literally the entire fight Bruce spends monologuing, completely ignoring everything Dick says, as if he's not talking at all.

The only thing that Bruce does respond to is how Dick is doing in the fight. He breaks his monologue to commend Dick on fighting well, but not even once gives the tiniest acknowledgement that Dick is also saying things.

Just the fact that Dick "wins" by dropping down to Bruce's level of violence.

when bruce says the "we fall so we can get back up" and Dick says, no, someone pushes us and we get up to push back, it's fucking sad. I think this is meant to be his victorious moment of turning the tides, but it's upsetting to me! That Dick "it's about catching people when they fall" Grayson has been pushed to reject all of that and is now only talking in terms of fighting!!! I don't like this quote I judge anyone who uses this as a great quote representative of dick grayson, sorry, it's not, it sucks

Dick cracks his head on a railing owie

as soon as Bruce gets properly decked and hits the ground, he calls the fight off :) Because this proves to him that Dick won't break in Spyral, of course, and confirms his stupid plan will work :) and definitely not because Bruce can dish it out but can't take it :)

unreal how much I hate him

And finally! Amidst all of that, amidst all the blood and violence, the single moment that made me most want to shove Bruce through a woodchipper!

"I know I'm hurting you. My family. I'm making that sacrifice. Because I don't give up. I don't give in."

shut the fuck up you fucking martyr hurting your family is not sacrificing shit

man, I really did start this post with story analysis and a genuine curiosity to find sense in chaos. My primary emotion was the fervor of solving a story like a puzzle. But now I am simply going to kill.

#* #*dc #dc #dc reading tag #i don't. i don't think this mess of a ramble deserves a real tag but uhhh #dc ref #i fuckin guess

[mundanememorize]

i’m going to gush about this book under the cut because it might be my favorite book ever

i’m not going to say bpd is perfectly correlated with the idea of a mirror or that everyone with bpd has an obsession with The Mirror or mirror imagery because i feel people would take that the wrong way and understand it as vanity but this book is not only a mirror to me but also perfectly explains this idea of The Mirror through her what she’s experienced and having little or no identity. The idea of forcing yourself to paint an image on a mirror instead of just wearing your clothes. i’m using more prose than review but this books has made so much easier for me to understand how much of my thought process is powered by my bpd, and usually this would be one of the most earth shattering things, because that idea that bpd has so much control over me makes me feel like a dissected bug something disgusting and vulnerable but this book says that exactly before i can even finish the thought. it repeats thoughts u had yesterday from a book written years before i had it. it presents every thought i’ve had or tried to push down right in front of me on a published page.

bpd for me makes it so hard to connect because of this imaginary game of social connection you start to make up in your head. you’re trying to play chess with checkers and you don’t even know how either game works. the author lisa johnson lays out exactly the web of her life and connections and her idea of tactics that play out seemingly without her executive decision. these things just happen because she wants them to so she acts on them. this is the only way something can happen when you’re thinking through the way bpd works. you’re forced down a cattle canal with a nail gun at the end. it’s a one track mind sent down a labyrinth of choices and you’re poorly equipped for strategy.

not only that but the dissection of the facade(s) that come with having bpd is also wonderfully done (and how could it not be when told by someone with bpd). so often are facades presented as two layers: something to lure and something to trap. something delicious that leads to torture. with this people think those with bpd only aim to do these things, that we are oriented around the goal of destruction and only get to know people to slowly close our jaw over them. i think then too many people with bpd add this idea and belief as another layer onto our made up game of charades and chess. if you know i have this then you won’t love me anymore, that’s when ill have to flare or fringe and quills. i’ll have to do this to show you you’re right and wrong, that im awful and scared. that i am a defense mechanism as a whole. the book starts with this presentation too, making the read feel as though you’re following and outsiders path in. it begins with repeating talk of celebrities and house fires and the fascinations with public meltdowns. the connection you have to public figures pushed to their limit and lashing out and arguing tabloids reports like that’s a person in itself. this follows up with an incredibly clinical chapter, and if we treat this book in itself as a person (as its later described as) it feels distinctly placed there to make up for the gossip of the last chapter. this continues on as we get deeper and more personal with the authors life and the back and forth becomes clear this is the every day change and adjustment with bpd.

i’ve never read a book that feels like i am just reading my own diary with different names, jobs, and places. she discusses how her art and writing seems to teeter on being a favorite person itself, how when you have no identity it’s not just “hard to maintain a relationship” it’s utterly impossible to understand what attraction is. how aversion to comfort is more plausible but wonders why nothing you choose is comfortable. how analytical you have to be with bpd, weighing pros and cons, which without explanation seems as cold and callous “strategy” to anyone without it (though it’s just so you make the “better decision” in the end). this book is catharsis for every article that focuses on the bpd’s loved ones pain rather than that affected by the disorder. for every time you ask “what about me?” through gritted teeth and green eyes this book shares that deep inside grinding pain saying “i know”. it’s such a wonderful book that i really genuinely do start to get light headed reading this.

it’s a hard read, not in terms of content or a sudden wave of self loathing, but because it starts to destroy the wall or hole many with bpd have surrounding loneliness. “there is no one like me” is destroyed when you read lisa johnson describe your life in fine detail in the exact code words you always use so no one will know what is actually going on inside. when you cuts in clippings from artists, psychological studies, and pop culture i see my art fold out in front of me too, trying to make this same exact message. when this feeling of utter god awful loneliness starts to be dismantled by her words you see piece by piece what yours is actually made up of, where it came from, and how to discard it. there are people like you, but we all are so utterly terrified of being turned inside out we don’t just build a barrier, we incase ourselves in resin to sit and wait and be chipped out. consider this book the hammer and chisel.

i recommend this book to absolutely anyone. if you have bpd you will find some solace in it in certain, i’ve found it in every page down to every paragraph. if you love someone or even know someone with bpd i really encourage you to read it. it’s not just a bullet point list of things that ppl with bpd do or feel like, it is drenched in what having it is like. the formatting and text is sporadic with lines that imitate self harm inflictions littering breaks between paragraphs at random. words get bolded and each word of sentences are broken up by periods. italics shrink to the bottom of the page and font changes mid paragraph when floundering to keep up an appearance. it’s an insightful book because reading it you experience these episodes along with them happening. it leads you on a simulation of how out of control thus disorder is and feels. if you’re struggling to understand your loved one or yourself this book lays it out down to having a readers guide with questions to answer in the back.

it’s been an incredibly beautiful experience to read through this and see oddities i thought were disgusting exist in another human being as it’s always easier to understand and be kind to another’s pain than your own. reaaaaaad it.

#sh mention #this is okay to rb btw #also i’m only halfway through i just feel really crazy

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 13

An amazing edit inspired by this story! (Cred to Cora_Line99) Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board! Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note. Quick update this time, guys. As always, please enjoooooy!

"Where's my Dad?" Is the first thing I ask when we make it to the house.

The horse skids to a stop in front of the porch, and I waste no time in sliding to the ground. I hit the grass with a painful grunt, and Rick, who was already on his feet, hurries forward along with Glenn to support me as I try to stand. I grab their bloody hands and they grab my clean ones as I stumble forward, dizzy, trying to get into the house as quickly as possible. I push past them; scramble up the steps. A man I don't recognise blubbers to me that he's sorry, he's so, so sorry, over and over again, but I don't know what for, and Rick sternly warns him to save it for later. He catches up with me; grabs me again. It makes me sick to look at his shirt, which is over-saturated with blood — My Dad's blood — and so I scrunch my face up and turn the other way, like a baby who doesn't wanna look at its peas. Glenn opens the door and Rick helps me inside.

"Is this her?" An elderly man at the end of the foyer asks, wiping his hands — also bloody — on a white rag. "Is this the daughter?"

"Rick, where is he?" I ask again, sniffling.

"Just give us a minute, sir." Rick tells the man.

"Where's Daddy?"

"He's right in here, honey."

He leads me to a door on our left that's only open an inch, but it's more than enough to catch a glimpse of my Dad's motionless body lying on top of the covers. From here, it looks like he's dead. Has he always been that pale? A pathetic, weeping sound escapes my mouth at the sight.

"I'm so sorry." The stranger continues pleading. I think he's talking to me. "I'm so sorry. It was an accident. I swear."

"Not now." Rick repeats himself, looking at him over his shoulder.

"He's not dead, is he?" I whimper.

"No." Rick shakes his head, before another I'm sorry comes from behind us, and he frustratedly shouts, "Shane, take him outside."

"C'mon." I hear him order the man. "Buddy, let's go."

As the distressed man gets ushered back outside to the porch, I stare into the room like I'm about to jump off a cliff, when really all I'm about to do is open a door. I feel like the floorboards are about to snap and give out underneath me; like I'm about to fall, like I'm doomed. I reach my hand out and an awful creaking noise echoes throughout the old house as the door slowly swings open. I take a step inside. Rick trails me, followed by Glenn. They're prolly here to make sure I don't pass out, which I think I just might, as I watch my Dad's stomach very closely as it ever so faintly rises and falls with his breath. I shake on the spot, frozen in fear. I've never seen my Dad like this before. It's like it's not even him.

"Daddy?" My voice cracks as I call out to him, beckoning him to wake up. He doesn't.

I see Rick and Glenn in my peripheral exchanging subtle looks.

Outside, I hear, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, and Shane sayin', shut up.

I step forward until I'm standing over him.

"Daddy." I whisper, hoping he just couldn't hear me the first time. "Daddy, pl-please wake up?"

One second, he's alive and offering to sing me to sleep, and the next he's struck down, dying in a stranger's bed.

I carefully touch his shoulder, which is bare and warm and familiar, tattooed with thorny roses. I give it a little shake, but nothing happens. I move my fingers upward, onto his stubbled cheek, and then softly over his left eye, and then his right, and then his other cheek. His lashes don't twitch. His lids don't flicker. The only part of him that's moving is his chest. I look down at it again just to remind myself that he's not dead yet, and I watch it go up and down, up and down, up and down for a couple minutes, thinking to myself that this is all my fault.

I should've told someone about Dad and Shane before something like this happened.

Apparently it wasn't Shane who did this, 'cause he's not the one who's apologizing profusely right now, but my gut instincts tell me something is off. I don't know what exactly, but something definitely happened out there while he was gone. There's a reason Shane disappeared for hours too.

Dad always says, listen to what your gut tells ya.

I got no proof and nobody to talk to about it, but I know I'm not wrong.

After a while, Rick takes off his hat and steps forward. The look on his face says this is hard to watch for him.

"Harley," He says, "Let's head back out, now, huh?"

If I ignore the bandage wrapped around his stomach, and the blood on everyone's clothes, I can pretend he's just sleeping.

Hesitantly, I back away from the bed.

His belly continues rising up and down, up and down.

He's just sleeping, I tell myself.

That makes it much easier to leave the room.

My Dad needs surgery.

Well, actually, he needs another surgery. The old man, whose name is Hershel Greene, says that I need to try very hard to remember if I've ever heard a doctor or a nurse or anything like that mention my Dad's blood type before. I tell him I can't, 'cause we almost never went to any doctors before, 'cause my family ain't never liked to make a fuss outta anythin' like that. When I dislocated my shoulder, or Dad grazed his knee, or Merle got himself a concussion, we just stuck it out until it stopped hurtin'. Herschel looks like he don't even know what to say to that.

What this all means is he can't safely give my blood to my Dad.

He says if his blood and the new blood mixes together and they ain't the right ones, it turns into poison.

But my Dad needs blood.

His body can't replace it quickly enough on its own to keep him alive.

Herschel sighs and tells us about something called a universal blood type. It's magical blood that anyone can have injected into them.

They've been using Glenn's blood up until now, but he's given too much. He'll become sick if he gives any more.

Shane speaks up for the very first time when Hershel suggests a trip to a nearby veterinarian college that might store this type of blood, but he only does it after Otis, the man who's very sorry, offers to go first. Herschel makes sure Shane knows this is very dangerous, and might get them both killed, but he still doesn't change his mind. He just says somethin' about saving my Dad no matter the cost, and then the decision is final.

"I'll see ya later, Harley." He tells me as he hugs me goodbye at the door, a giant, empty rucksack over his shoulder. "Be good."

I pull back, wiping my eyes, which have never fully dried since arriving here.

I feel a strong urge to ask him why he agreed to this, seein' as he hates my Dad's guts, but I restrain myself.

"I will." I nod.

"Good girl." He ruffles my hair as he stands.

"Don't die, please."

He smirks. "Don't worry a thing about it."

"Here's a map and the list of things you'll need to find." Herschel hands him a small pile of papers. "Respirator, forceps, et cetera. I need it all."

"You got it." Shane mutters.

Otis tells me he's gonna make this right, but I don't even care. If he dies on this trip, I'll feel nothing.

Shane hugs Rick, and Otis hugs Herschel, and then they leave in Maggie's green car together, driving off into the trees.

"Noble man, that Shane." Comments Herschel.

"Sure is." Rick clears his throat, uncomfortable. "Always... Always has been."

I turn back into the house without saying anything.

"Ouch."

"You're doing good, Harley. Just a few more and then it'll be all over."

I squeeze my eyes closed, waiting for Herschel to finish up the last of my new stitches. He put a dollop of numbing cream on the area beforehand, but the tube was basically empty, so it's doin' a whole lotta nothing. Stings like a son of a bitch, Uncle Merle would say.

I think I might be breaking Glenn's hand with how hard I'm squeezing it, but he ain't complaining.

"And there we go." I groan as Herschel drops the needle onto a metal tray, peeling off his gloves. Ugh. It's over, finally. "You should keep them as dry as possible for the first forty-eight hours, and then after that we should change the dressing every three to four days. You might feel some itching, but that's a healthy sign — Try not to touch them. It should be completely healed in two weeks; maybe one. You did well, Harley."

"Very well." Rick agrees.

Hershel chuckles as he sticks a plaster over the wound. "What'd you say you had in there, again? Fishing line?"

"Our friend T-Dog's got stitches with it, too." I say. "He's back at the highway with the others."

"Well, I'll have to take a look at him when he gets here as well."

He picks up the tray and takes it into the kitchen.

Rick says, "I think he'd appreciate that."

"And you, son? How are you feeling? Any dizziness?"

Glenn shakes his head. "Just feel kinda tired."

"That'll pass. Keep drinking plenty of water."

I ask, "Is it gonna hurt as bad when you take the stitches back out again?"

Herschel turns the faucet on, rinsing off his hands.

"Well," He sighs, "That depends on whether or not your group is going to still be here next week."

"Daddy." Maggie warns.

"I can't lie to these people, Maggie." He tells her.

I frown. "We can't leave. My Dad, he needs help."

"I know," He says, "I'm going to do everything I can for him, but this is all temporary — Like a stay in a hospital. It can't be forever."

I've never been to a hospital, so I don't know how they work, but I sure wish I did so I'd be able to argue that he actually should let us stay.

"We're very grateful, either way." Rick interjects. "Can't say enough how you've saved our hides, doin' this."

Maggie changes the subject.

"In the meantime, you're very welcome to help yourself to anythin' you need," She smiles, finishing up as she makes cheese sandwiches for everybody. She cuts them into triangles and comes around to the table, setting a plate in front each of us. "Probably starvin', aren't you?"

"Very." Glenn answers enthusiastically. "Thank you."

"Thank you." Rick nods.

"Thank you."

"Wow. How polite are you guys?" She laughs, sitting down. "Thought you might'a lost your manners spendin' that much time on the road."

"There's definitely nothin' polite out there." Rick scoffs. "Nothin' polite at all."

"How long have you been out there?" Hershel asks.

"Since the very beginning, pretty much. Found us an abandoned quarry for the first few weeks, but that didn't work out. We had to leave."

"Mustn't have been easy."

"No. Nothing is, nowadays." He takes a bite. "Wow, this is good."

"Cheese is homemade." Maggie proudly says. "We get lots of milk from the cows and churnin' it's easy enough. Gives ya muscles, too."

She flexes her arm, trying to make me laugh.

I force a smile so she don't feel bad.

Picking at the corner of my sandwich, which I'd usually be very excited about seein' as it's got real cheese and butter in it, I think of my Dad. Back when all the doctors of the world were still alive, things might've been easier, but all we have left now is the remnants of old procedures, leftover supplies in veterinarian colleges, and stuffy old bedrooms instead of hospital rooms. I ain't even sure his chances would be any good back then, let alone now. If we have to celebrate over cheese, then I don't even wanna think about respirators and forceps and whatever else my Dad needs.

Rick notices that I'm not eating. Being a parent, it's his natural instinct to pester me about it. "You're not hungry, Harley?"

I shake my head and lie, "No."

"I can make you somethin' else, if you'd like." Maggie offers sweetly. "We got an orchard out back. You like peaches?"

"No, thank you." I mutter.

"Here, you want some of mine?" Glenn asks me, holding out half his sandwich. "It's got lettuce in it."

Overwhelmed, I struggle to tell him no.

"Glenn, what kid likes lettuce?" Rick mutters.

"I don't know."

Cheese drops all over the table.

He cusses to himself.

"Maybe I should just get you some juice." Maggie awkwardly suggests. "We have apple?"

"Can I get a paper towel over here?" Glenn cringes, clumsily smearing butter and cheese everywhere. "Please?"

This is too much for me. There are too many people saying too many things, and I can't decide which to listen to. My Dad, he's the one I always listen to, but he's not here right now. It's a sour reminder that makes me feel even worse about everything. I've never been on my own, before.

"Oh, uh, sure." Maggie says, about to stand. "Let me just—"

I beat her to it. My chair scrapes noisily against the floor and I leave my sandwich on the table as I storm out of the room.

I make it down the hall, and I slam my Dad's door closed behind me. Already, I feel better; calmer. It's quiet in here, and slightly dim thanks to the sheer curtains hanging from the bay window. I crawl onto the bed, snuggling up to my Dad's side like a tired cat, and I close my eyes. I listen to the sound of his breathing, and the mooing and clucking outside. It smells like mothballs and blood in here, but I don't mind. It's just me and my Dad.

I don't realize I've fallen asleep until somebody opens the door a few hours later, leaving two pills, water, and a bowl of peaches on the dresser.

I think Dad would tell me to get that shit in yer belly 'fore you keel over, so I tip-toe across the room and stick the pills in my mouth, down the glass of water, and then bring the fruit back to the bed. I nibble on the slices of peach, licking up the sugary, pink juice that coats my fingers.

I don't believe in any God, but I hope that if he's out there, he knows how much I love my Daddy, so he can save him for me.

I doze off again beside my dying Dad.

"So, do we ring the bell? I mean, it looks like people live here, don't it?"

Later in the afternoon, I wake slowly to the sound of T-Dog and Jacqui's voices out on the porch.

"We're kinda past this stuff, aren't we?" She sasses him.

"Just 'cause the world's gone to shit, doesn't mean we gotta."

"Fine. Just ring it, then."

"You ring it."

"What? Why me?"

"I got a sore arm."

"I think you're capable of ringing a bell, T-Dog."

"I might have blood poisoning, lady. You wanna make a chronic patient risk his life to ring a bell for you?"

"Oh my God. You're so dramatic sometimes."

"I'on care. Might be some crazy axe-murderin' dudes livin' here. You do it."

"I ain't gettin' axed. You get axed."

"Nuh-uh. You do it."

I hear the front door open suddenly.

"Can I help you?" Maggie deadpans.

T-Dog and Jacqui make noises of surprise.

"Hello," Jacqui chuckles awkwardly. "We met earlier on the highway. I'm Jacqui Daniels. This is T-Dog."

"Hi," He says.

Maggie hums. "You're the one with the fishing-line sutures, aren't you?"

"Uh, yeah. It's not a bite, though." T-Dog clarifies. "I just cut myself pretty bad."

"We'll have it looked at."

"And we got some pain killers, here." Jacqui adds. I hear her shaking the bottle. "If Harley or Daryl need any."

"I already gave her some." Maggie says, "But thank you. Come on inside and I'll make you somethin' to eat. You like cheese sandwiches?"

"Boy, do I." T-Dog answers.

"We got some more people coming. They're hangin' back right now but they'll be here by tomorrow."

Maggie replies, "You'll have to talk to my Dad about that."

The door closes, and they move down the hall and into the living room. They talk for some time, about where Shane and Otis went, and why I've locked myself in this room; how I got new stitches but I should be alright in about a week. T-Dog asks to see me, but Rick advises him against it, 'cause he says I'm a little sensitive right now. Hell yeah, I'm sensitive. They got half a mind to leave me alone forever at this rate.

When they start talking about Dad's surgery, I hold my breath to listen better.

"They don't get back soon," Herschel says, "We're gonna have a decision to make."

"And that is?" Rick asks.

"Whether or not we operate on your man without the respirator."

Instinctually, I put my hand over my Dad's chest, as if they're gonna barge in and do it right now.

"You said that wouldn't work."

"I know. It's extremely unlikely, but we can't wait much longer."

Extremely unlikely.

Oh, God.

I don't wanna listen anymore.

I cover my ears with the pillow and close my eyes.

The next time I wake up, it's night-time.

Glenn stands in the doorway, a stack of blankets in one hand and a brass candle holder in the other, which I think makes him look a little bit like someone from the eighteen hundreds. The tiny orange light flickers over his surprised face, bouncing softly off the walls, the floor, the roof.

"Sorry," He whispers. "Didn't mean to wake you up. Doors are creaky in this place."

I don't like havin' anyone in here, 'cause even though it's not my room or even my house, I feel like it's mine and Dad's space and no-one else's.

But Glenn feels like he belongs here. I'm fine with him being in the room, and Dad would be, too.

I sit up, sleepily rubbing my eyes.

"What's the time?"

He steps inside and carefully sets the candle down on the dresser.

"Like, eleven, I think. Everyone's gone to bed. Maggie told me to give you these," He says, "In case you were cold."

I thank him quietly as he hands me the blankets, helping fit them over both me and my Dad. One of them is the blue blanket with the fish and sharks printed on it, and hidden amongst the fuzzy bundle is Matilda, in all her wild-haired glory. I pick her up. Maggie wouldn't know where to get these things. Jacqui and T-Dog must've brought them when they drove down, thinking of me. That makes me smile for the first time today. 

In the dim light, I notice her dress no longer has any of my blood on it. It's back to clean, green gingham.

"Her dress is clean."

He smiles lightly. "I asked Maggie to clean it for you."

Aw. Maggie's real nice. I feel awful for not eating the sandwich she made me today.

"She did a good job. You can't even tell it was dirty."

"It's vinegar and bath salts." He says, before joking, "Don't tell her I told you that. Apparently, it's like, classified family information."

I promise, "I won't."

"Good. She's scary when she's mad."

"What? When's she ever been mad since we got here?" I laugh. "What'd you do?"

He shrugs, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

"I may or may not have accidentally said her great-grandfather looks like a bald George Washington."

"Wh—?"

"It was a really old photo, alright? How was I supposed to know she'd get offended?"

I roll my eyes. "Glenn, you're an idiot sometimes."

"So I've heard."

The conversation gently tapers to an end, and Glenn is happy to sit with me in the silence that follows, listening as an owl huh-hoots outside in the night. The candle-light morphs across my Dad's peaceful face in strange, fire-colored shapes, contouring his features with harsh blacks and greys; highlighting his bruised eye. Violence always seems to find its way to my Dad, like waves find their way to shore. Shane's out there right now, probably spilling blood and fighting for his life to save my Dad's. I hope violence can put him back together the same way it broke him.

Please, I'd tell Shane if I could, Please, you reckless moron, get back here before it's too late.

"He's gonna pull through." Glenn says, then. He sounds like he's sure of it. "Your Dad's tough."

I know he is. But so was my Uncle Merle, who was one of the toughest men I knew, and he died, too.

"I'm just worried." I whisper, staring at my Dad's face.

Glenn doesn't answer for a while, but then he tells me, "You know, the morning after we found out you weren't infected... Your Dad told me that every day he wakes up, he does it for you." I feel my eyes start to tear up at the memory. "He said you were the most important thing he has."

Harley's my only girl, I remember he said.

I'm all he's got.

But he's my only Dad.

He's all I got, too.

I wonder what might've happened if he never got shot; if he got the chance to sing me to sleep that night, like he promised. I wonder if he'd tell me loves me — If he's sorry for everything; sorry for confusing me so much.

I'd forgive him in a heartbeat.

I know Shane wouldn't want me to — He would want me to stick up for myself — but I just wouldn't be able to help it. I'd forgive him.

Even if he wants to beat me for the rest of my life, I'd let him, as long as he's alive to do it.

When it comes to my Dad, I'm like a puppy weaned off poison. I've learnt to live with its taste. I need it to survive.

"I was awake, you know." I randomly muse.

"Hm?" Glenn tilts his head.

"That morning." I meet his gaze. "On the RV. I was awake the whole time."

He raises a brow. "You were?"

"Yeah."

"I had no idea."

"I know you didn't." I chuckle. "You idiot."

"Woah. I'm just getting it from all sides tonight, aren't I?" He smiles, shaking his head. "It's pretty late, you know. I should let you sleep."

"Okay." I say, pulling the covers up to my chin. "Thanks, Glenn."

"For what?"

"Giving your blood to my Dad. I don't... I don't think he'd be okay without it."

"It was nothing. He's saved my life plenty of times, so I'm just paying him back."

He stands up.

"Okay. Night, Harley."

"Night, Glenn."

He blows the candle out in one breath, and the room goes dark.

Once the door clicks shut, I belatedly mumble, "Night, Dad."

I fall asleep to the sound of his shallow breaths.

"Harley, get up."

It's the middle of the night when Glenn shakes me awake. Car lights blind me as they move across the window. I hear people running upstairs, downstairs, outside; shouting things. I can hardly keep track of anything as I blearily make sense of the room, sitting up with Glenn's help. I try to ask him what's going on, but before I can, I get kicked in the leg by something under the blankets. I gasp, turning to look at my Dad. Glenn tugs on my arm, urging me out of the bed. Without even thinking, I let him pull me out, and I stumble backward toward the door.

I watch in horror as my Dad convulses on the bed, stiff like a board, but moving in all directions.

"What's wrong with him?" I breathe, and there's a moment where I think he's turned; that he's a walker, and I'm petrified at the sight of him.

Rick bursts through the door. "What's going on?"

"I think he's having a seizure." Glenn answers, breathless. "I don't know. I don't know."

"Dad?"

"Get her outta here." Rick points outside, already moving toward the bed. "Shane's back, anyway. It's time for the surgery."

Glenn forces me out the room and into the foyer, where Herschel, in his striped pyjamas, pulls on a pair of medical gloves. He looks sleepy but determined, ready to perform an emergency surgery in his farmhouse, with only the help of his family and a couple strangers.

"Beth, go get some towels." He orders. "Maggie, go turn the generator on. We need light. You over there, is your name Jacqui?"

More people flood into the foyer, only adding to the chaos.

"Yes, sir."

"You helped stitch up your people, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir, my sister was a nurse."

"Good. I'll need your help in there. Jimmy, help me carry this stuff inside, will you?"

"W— What do I do?" Glenn asks.

Hershel looks him up and down and answers, "Stay out of the way," before making a bee-line outside.

It's just too crowded in the house.

I follow Herschel outside, into the light of the high-beams.

"Shane?" I call out.

He slams the car door shut, both his and Otis' backpacks slung over his shoulders.

"Where's Otis?" Herschel asks. "What happened?"

He just shakes his head with a dazed expression on his face.

"They kept blocking us at every turn." He stresses, "We w-were down to ten rounds, and I couldn't— I couldn't—"

When he sees me running up to him, he crouches. He catches me as I tackle him in a hug. Tonight is so awful. It's the worst night of my life. I need somebody to hold me like my Dad would, and I know Shane will. He hugs me back tight. His clothes fill my nose with the stink of blood and flesh. This might be the worst night of his life, too, with the way he's trembling; the way his eyes are open, but he's not really seeing anything.

"Then he said he'd cover me and I should keep running," Shane continues, not even sure who he's speaking to. "So that's what I did, I— I ran."

Otis is dead, then. Dead and gone.

"I looked back and— But I— And—"

"We don't tell Patricia." Herschel says to the boy. "Not until after. I need her."

They're going to do the surgery now. They're gonna cut my Dad open and dig around for the bullet in his belly. I cry and slobber onto Shane's shoulder, moaning about how I don't want my Dad to die, and he shushes me softly; tells me everything's gonna be alright. He repeats it over and over, like he needs convincing, too. I don't know what happened to him out there, but he's real shaken up about it. It's driven him to talk nonsense.

"It's gonna be alright, Harley." He mutters, breathing shakily. "It's alright. I did it. We're alright."

"What did you do?" I hiccup, confused.

All he does is continue mumbling, I did it, I did it, I did it.

I pull back, getting a look at him through my teary eyes.

"What'd you do?"

"We're alright."

"Shane, we need the bags." Herschel demands. "We need those supplies, right now."

He shrugs both bags off his shoulders, which land softly in the grass — A little too softly.

I realize, right alongside Herschel and the boy, that they're completely empty.

He gapes. "You didn't get the supplies?"

I push off of Shane and fall to my knees. I rip open the rucksack. I rip open the backpack. Empty, empty, empty.

"What?" I shriek, searching more frantically by the second. "No. No, no, no."

"I'm sorry." He mutters. "I'm sorry, I— I just— I couldn't."

"No, no, no, no!"

Dad's chances of survival without the respirator are extremely unlikely. That's next to nothing. That's zero. That's death. Herschel and the boy cut their losses and turn back into the house, and all I'm left with is two empty bags and a broken heart. I wail on the top of my lungs, hearing the words extremely unlikely, extremely unlikely, over and over again in my head. All this, and they didn't even get the supplies.

"Harley, come here." Shane's voice cracks as he says this, reaching for me again. "Come here, sweetheart."

I collapse into him, sobbing, sobbing, sobbing.

"He's gonna die, Shane. Oh, he's gonna die."

"I'm sorry." He murmurs. "I'm sorry, Harley."

"He can't die." I moan, choking on air. "I need him, Shane. I need him. I c— I can't. I need him."

"Hey, hey, no. You got me." He grabs my face; thumbs the tears from my hot, red cheeks. "You got me, remember?"

"He's gonna die-e-e-e."

"Hey, stop."

He wraps me up in a hug, rocking me side to side.

"You got me."

I'm too upset to notice that he's not even trying to convince me that I'm wrong. He doesn't oppose what's happening; doesn't dread it. It's almost like he's embracing it; like this was meant to happen. The possibility of my Dad's death rolls off his shoulders like water. The only reason he's coddling me is because he knows I'm hurting. I know he won't care if Dad dies, but I can't afford to be offended. I can't afford to be alone right now.

My Dad's all I got, but if he dies, then I have nothing.

"You got me." Shane coos. "It's okay."

You got me.

Maybe I won't have nothing.

Despite everything that's happened tonight, I take solace in at least that.

I have Shane.

The next morning, I go into the orchard with Maggie to pick peaches for breakfast.

I didn't sleep at all last night. When she woke up to go to the bathroom, she saw me sitting upright on the sofa, wide awake, and offered to take me outside to try take my mind off things. After she lent me one of her little sister's cardigans to wear, she handed me a wicker basket to collect the peaches in and led me around the side of the old house. A thin mist rises up from the earth, glowing faintly as the sun blushes behind it all.

"I'm sorry ya couldn't sleep last night." Maggie says, trailing the path beside me.

"It's okay. It ain't your fault."

I wasn't allowed to sleep in Dad's room last night. That's why I had so much trouble getting to sleep. I was so paranoid about not bein' able to hear his breathing that between biting my nails and crying my eyes out, I just couldn't relax. Rick and Herschel said it's best I sleep in the living room with everyone else until my Dad wakes up. I ain't stupid. I know it's 'cause he could turn into a walker at any moment, now.

"Me and my sister used to listen to music to help us get to sleep, but since things went South, we've had to make do without. Some nights, I just toss and turn for hours. I'd kill to get my Mp3 player back."

Even though my eyebags are heavy and my back aches, I smile.

"I used to have an Mp3 player, too."

"Really?" She exclaims. "What color?"

"Pink."

"Oh, lucky. We only ever had white ones. Beth used to think they were borin', so she put stickers all over 'em."

I never really had expensive things like that. The only reason I had an Mp3 player was 'cause Merle stole it for me off a lady on the bus.

"What kinda music did you like listenin' to?" Maggie asks.

"Uh. What my Dad liked, I guess. Sometimes it was good, but most the time it was just people screamin'."

She laughs. "Yeah, he seems the type to listen to that stuff."

"How you mean?"

"The tattoos. The flannel shirt. The edgy rings."

I chuckle. You know what, I guess he is.

"He used to have even more rings." I tell Maggie. "He had a whole bunch. They had snakes and skulls and stuff on 'em. He had knuckle dusters, too, but he didn't wear 'em, really. But my Uncle Merle sold most my Dad's stuff one day, and now he only has a few left."

"Why'd he do that?"

I shrug. "Dad went to prison for a while. We needed money."

Maggie stops in her tracks. "Wow. Your Dad went to prison?"

"Uh-huh. Arrendale State Prison."

"What for?"

I don't think I should answer that, 'cause the answer's, he murdered someone. People here might not like him so much if they know he killed someone before it was necessary to survive. Everybody back home used to know all about how Daryl Dixon clobbered Ronnie Fletcher to death, and it was a bit of a glorious tale for a while, but nobody treated him any different. If anythin', they were just a little more scared of him than they already were. He used to get free drinks because of all the rumours. Daryl killed a good-for-nothin' pedo, was the whispered headline. I got no idea what that last word means, but apparently it's good if you kill 'em. I heard nobody but Ronnie's Momma went to his funeral that year.

Maggie senses that I won't elaborate, so she asks a different question. "Did you miss him when he was gone?"

I pluck a low-hanging peach, setting it in my basket. "Yeah... I cried just about every day."

"That must've been hard." She smiles a little sadly.

We continue down the aisle of spindly, green trees together.

"Made for a good story, in the end, at least." Maggie throws a peach to me, and I manage to catch it. "Dad goin' to prison? That's pretty badass. I bet no kids messed with you in school after that, huh?"

I giggle. "No, I guess not."

There was this one boy, Issac, who used to pull on my ponytail in class. Dad told me to kick him in the nuts next time he did it, and I did, and he never bothered me again. It was also common knowledge that if you look at a Dixon the wrong way, they'll either mess you up or snap your neck.

I tell her all of this, and she scoffs.

"My Daddy used to just tell us girls to pray for 'em."

"Did it work?"

"Some things you can't just pray away." She sighs. "Like little boys in fifth grade who poured glitter paint down your trainin' bra."

"What!" I scrunch up my nose. "That's way worse than pony-tail pullin'."

She nods. "Mm-hmm. I think I'm still washing out that glitter to this day, you know."

"Boys are stupid."

"You got that right."

We fill our baskets a little more before heading back. She asks if I want to stop by the chicken coop and see the new hatchlings, and I of course say yes right away. She opens the little door for me, and I duck inside, overwhelmed by all the chirping and clucking and cute little faces looking up at me. Maggie tells me to sit down, because she's going to show me a trick. I take a seat in the pokey straw and watch as she sits beside me.

"Watch this." She wiggles her brows, biting a chunk off a peach. She spits it out and places it on her hand, then lifts her arm in the air.

The closest chicken, whose got a very fancy red and white mow-hawk of sorts, squats and wiggles its butt.

"What's it doin'?" I whisper.

"Shh." Maggie hushes. "Don't wanna ruin her groove."

She makes little kissy noises at the chicken. It tilts its head curiously. Then it jumps in a flurry of wings and feathers onto Maggie's forearm.

It perches there, pecking at the fruit.

"Woah," I exclaim. "She jumped so high!"

"Sure did." Maggie chuckles, lowering her arm to let me pet the chicken. "When I was little, I used to try gettin' 'em to jump through hoops."

"Like a chicken circus." I giggle.

"Yeah." She smiles. "Can't say it ever worked out, though. These are strictly egg-layin' hens only."

"Eggs are my favorite."

"You wanna add 'em to the menu this morning?"

Excited, I nod. "Can we have 'em scrambled?"

"We can have 'em however you like."

"Definitely scrambled."

"Scrambled it is, then."

We take a couple speckled brown eggs from the nests and put them in with our fresh peaches.

When we make it back to the house, I realize that Maggie's plan worked. A whole half hour passed, and I wasn't anxious for one minute of it.

"Is that eggs?"

T-Dog comes into the kitchen a while later, obviously lured in here by his nose. Maggie's pancake, egg, and peach breakfast smells like heaven mixed with sugar and syrup, and I can't hardly stop myself from just gobblin' it all down right now.

"Pasture-raised." Maggie confirms happily. "Thought y'all could do with a bit of a pick-me-up after yesterday."

"Mornin', Harley." He smiles before sitting at the bench. "As long as it's no trouble."

"Trouble?" Maggie scoffs. "No. Ain't no trouble. We're up to our eyeballs in eggs this time of year. Trust me, you're doin' us a favor by eatin' 'em."

"If you say so." T-Dog shrugs.

"How's your arm?" I ask him. "Maggie's Dad sew you up, too?"

"Yeah. Gave me some actual antibiotics to go along with it." He sighs, relived. "See? Told you we'd pull through."

"Uh, I remember Dale sayin' that."

"Pssh. Dale, Shmale."

"Whatever." I roll my eyes. "Just be glad he ain't here to say I told you so."

As the smell of breakfast slowly fills the house, everybody starts filing into the kitchen — Rick, looking as tired as I do. Beth, already filled with enough energy to out-power the sun. Herschel, dressed in his smart suspenders, with a kiss on the cheek for both his daughters. The teenage boy, Jimmy, and Patricia, who definitely got the terrible news broken to her last night about Otis' death, judging by her gloomy mood.

Jacqui stays behind in Dad's room. There has to be an adult in there at all times to keep an eye on him.

And finally, Shane. He comes in last. The first thing I notice about him is that he ain't got no hair anymore. It's gone. Like, buzzed, gone.

"Morning, y'all." He mutters, slinking off to the table, alone.

"Interesting new haircut." Patricia snobs as she sips some apple juice.

"Why'd he go and do that for?" T-Dog chuckles. "He startin' a rap career we don't know about?"

"Leave him be." Rick says wearily. "He had a rough time yesterday."

"Did he tell you what happened?" Herschel asks.

He shakes his head. "Somethin' tells me it's best not to ask, neither. Let's just wait for him to tell us in his own time."

All the Greenes try not to make it too obvious that they're eyeing Shane, but the rest of us know by now to ignore him, so that's what we do. I think I'm not the only one who's itching for a story, though. It makes no sense that he not only returned alone with a dead man's backpack, but he returned completely empty-handed, too. Two bags'a nothing. That whole campus, and he didn't even bring back a band aid?

Maggie and Beth scramble the last of the eggs and hand everybody a plate.

We all waste no time digging in.

"Damn." T-Dog groans. "You got a golden goose out there? 'Cause these are the best damn eggs I ever ate."

Everybody murmurs a similar sentiment as they bite down the spongey pancakes and salted eggs.

This meal is the best thing to happen to us since the fish fry.

I save some eggs for my Dad, 'cause scrambled are his favorite. It's why I chose 'em. I like to think he'll wake up soon enough to eat 'em.

But we've still got a long road ahead of us.

Author's Note.

I LOVE THE FARM. The vibes are just, ugh!! Perfect!

Welcome to the chapter where Shane starts to go off the rails. We've been rooting for him so far as opposed to Daryl, but things are just gonna keep getting greyer and greyer from here on out. Redemption arc here we come. Also... a bit of a who-dunnit thing going on. I think it's pretty obvious, but the timeline's a bit confusing, so maybe not. Besides, Otis seemed pretty guilty 🤷‍♀️

Please share your thoughts below on this chapter! I always love reading your comments. It brightens my day every single time. As always, thanks for reading! Sending love! <3

#the walking dead #twd fanfiction #twd #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon daughter #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #daddy issues #rick grimes #shane walsh #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #angst #reader

[bohemian-nights]

Is this a safe space to say that I don't care about Polin in S3? Colin is such a boring 1 dimensional character that easily gets overshadowed by Anthony and especially Benedict, and Penelope is just a whiny brat who just wants male validation and is jealous of Eloise. Also to act like she never said anything about the Brdgertons is a lie cause she had no problem talking about Daphne, had it not have been for her crush on Colin she would've gone on a jealous rant about his entire family. I know Polin is attractive to some people because of the representation of larger body types and the childhood friends to lovers trope but it's just boring. I can't name 1 intreseting thing about Colin other than he took a vacation and had psychedelic tea and Pen is not as progressive as she thinks she is she's just jealous and bitter. Also how is it that she's such an amazing writer that can communicate in so much detail but can't even communicate to Eloise when Eloise doesn't understand her perspective? She's quick to lash out at her as if Eloise is doing it on purpose, Eloise is not dumb and she has respect it's not like she insults women who want/desire love so there was no reason for Penelope to play victim.

This is totally a safe space because while I don't hate them I don’t particularly care for Polin either.

In the books it’s a bit better because Penelope isn’t as much of a snake), but she isn’t my fave by a long shot.

Penelope on the show is straight-up awful. She started pretty sympathetic, but then the Marina situation happened and that turned me completely off of her character. So by the time she had her falling out with Eloise(who did nothing wrong and has every right to be angry with her), I was already checked out.

Yes, she’s not very popular with the ton.* Yes not being seen sucks. Yes her mother is kind of mean to her and forces her to wear the most hideous outfits which is probably a turn-off for most men. Yes she wants Collin and he doesn’t want her and that sucks, but that’s no excuse for her actions.

Honestly, Penelope is half a step away from being a whole stalker and yet we are supposed to see ourselves in her or at least sympathize with her🫠

(I’m not going to get into her being bullied by Cressida since she’s nasty to everyone).

It’s kind of obvious though that Shonda sees herself in her which is why Penelope is promoted so much and given the angle she has been, but she’s a weirdo with insecurity issues.

To be honest, I thought she should’ve gotten a redemption arc before her season(she’s not unredeemable, she just needs to clean up her act), but it is what it is.

Now Collin both in the show and the books is incredibly dull to me. Yes, he has his traveling(and spoilers, his writing about his travels), but he’s just kind of there. He is just the third Bridgerton bro and while Luke Newton is attractive I feel nothing when I look at him playing Colin.

That cheesy promo they had the other day did nothing for me(well I did laugh, but I don’t think that’s the intended reaction). I don’t know what to say other than he’s just meh. To me, he’s not leading man material and I’m not seeing the chemistry with Penelope/her actress, but again it is what it is.

As far as representation goes, I’m not a plus-sized woman, but I know that it is important to see yourself and to want to see yourself represented on screen.

I think that’s the essence of Bridgerton/what it is trying to accomplish because let’s be honest period dramas are not very diverse. I think that Bridgerton has kind of changed that to a degree.

I don’t want to hype up the show too much cause it’s not perfect, but without this shows success I don’t think that films and shows like Tom Jones, Interview With the Vampire, The Confessions of Frannie Langton, Mr. Malcom’s List, The Buccaneers, and now The Davenports (which I’m excited for) would’ve been nesscary green-lit or the plot would’ve been changed to make it more diverse if not for Bridgerton.

I hate bringing this up, but I don’t even know if the dumbass showrunners of HOTD would’ve made the Velaryons Black if not for them looking at how successful Bridgerton is without understanding that the reason why it's successful is that they don't treat their Black characters like they leftovers. It’s about respect not just having people there to pat yourselves on the back and say look how progressive we are, but I digress.

I mean representation in terms of body type is not comparable to representation in terms of race, but it feels good when characters who look like you aren't shown in the worst light, when they are the main character, or when they have been given actual characterization and aren't made into a joke.

So I get why people love Penelope and Polin and understand why they are looking forward to their season, but personally, they just aren't my cup of tea.

That all being said, I’m still going to watch the season cause I love Bridgerton, I’m kind of hoping we’ll see Sophie this season

(Praying that she's Masali Baduza or just any Black actress 🙏🏽I’m not picky, as long as Sophie's actress is Black, you won’t see me complaining).

I’ll end this by saying that I’m a Benophie girl and while I’ve made peace with the fact that Polin got the lead instead(and I’m actually low-key glad they did), I don’t think this is going to blow my socks off, but I hope it gives the people who have been waiting for it everything they want.

#bnasks #bnask

[ikamigami]

What are lunar fans saying about Sun this time?

Oh boy... I'll answer this solely because you asked me. ☺️

One of the things that irritated me the most was that some of them was implying that "finally" and I mean "finally" Sun realised that he was "so mean" to Lunar and that he was "so bad" for doing so... and "maybe now Sun will feel bad about what he did to Lunar"... Excuse me?! @@$@$#&¥^£@_¥® 💢🗯️🤬

Sun felt bad about his fight with Lunar before he found out that Eclipse killed Lunar!! Remember the episode "Earth saves Sun" and what Bloodmoon hallucinations told Sun? So yeah...

And some of them were also saying that Sun "doesn't feel anything" after Lunar's death! Blah blah blah! Stfu!! For goodness sake!

Sun feels responsible for Lunar's death! He blames himself for Lunar's death! Even if it wasn't stated in the show yet, it doesn't mean that Sun doesn't feel this way! Not everything has to be shown explicitely and on a plain sight for you to see how things are!! People can't think nowadays!

Sun just represses his grief after Lunar's death! Because he has to help Moon and Earth! He had to take a lead because Earth is still new and Moon doesn't remember anything! He can't let himself to grief... And also I think that Sun feels like he doesn't have any right to grief after Lunar's death... Because in his own eyes it is his fault... Sun represses his grief even if he shouldn't... Because it'll end up badly for him... It'll worsen he's poor mental state... which is already very poor...

I can't imagine why people are like that..?! Why they feel such resentment for Sun...? I don't get it... I know that boo hoo poor Lunar.. but Sun's feelings and struggles were also valid and.. beside that Sun didn't even lash out on Lunar... He was dissapointed with Lunar.. more than anything else, I think... Because Lunar jumped on Sun immidiately. He didn't try to listen to Sun. And I think that Sun thought that maybe Lunar could understand Sun's inner turmoil.. because he was able to see through Sun's mask before! But he didn't... and I think that it hurt Sun.. and also the fact that Lunar basically told Sun that he knows Moon struggles more than Sun... It was awful of Lunar to say the least...

I'm just pissed at those stupid fans... And mind you that they're not every fan and much less every Lunar's fan.

So to say it shortly, some of Lunar's fans thinks that Sun didn't regret the fight with Lunar and doesn't feel anything after Lunar's death. Which is obviously untrue!!

Sorry for the language. But I'm really mad ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ💢

Why they're only sympathetic towards Lunar? Heck they're even more sympathetic towards Bloodmoon! Which, no ofense to decent fans of BM, also annoys me to no end...

Sun deserves better! (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

I hope that this answer satisfies you, anon. 🙇‍♀️

#sun and moon show #sun and moon show sun #fnaf sb #fnaf sun #sams sun #the sun and moon show lunar #sams lunar #sun and moon show moon #fnaf moon #sams moon #sun and moon show earth #sams earth #anon ask #sorry for the language #i'm pissed #sams fandom #sams sun deserves better

[cosmic-walkers]

Episode Review - Loneliness through the Patriarchy and inevitable doom

Episode 6 Spoilers! 

so many thoughts on this episode and how great it was! First and foremost I wanted to talk about the loneliness and honestly, forms of misogyny that all three of the main girls faced. Alicent, Rhaenyra and Laena. But first, let’s just talk about Alicent and Rhaenyra.

If there’s one thing this episode showed it’s how not all is good between people. We saw last episode how Laenor and Rhaenyra came to a truce but in the end they are falling apart. At least with how the episode begins. There is a lot of distrust between them, not due to Rhaenyra or Laenor being unfaithful to one another—which can hardly constitute as that. But they have both grown and reality has hit them. The pact they made as children isn’t carrying over when responsibilities must come and both feel trapped. It’s easy to get mad at Rhaenyra for lashing out at Leanor. But at the same time she is the one who has to produce heirs. She is the one who has to go through childbirth and keep in mind it nearly killed her mother. Of course she is upset. But Laenor also isn’t awful for indulging in ways that he feels. It just however, show how even when Rhaenyra is in situations where she wants to liberate herself from the patriarchy, she is still a victim of it. She still has to give birth, even if her relationship with Harwin is her choice, it is still very much a duty she must perform. Leaner gets freedom while she does not. And because of that, she is lonely.

This brings to Alicent who is also lonely. Keep in mind, Alicent isn’t a mustache twirling villain. Alicent was a victim of child grooming, marital rape, etc., and she is hardened now. She hates the Targayarens and I can’t blame her given what they have put her through. Whether we have Viserys who is well, Viserys or Rhaenyra who also lied about her and that lie resulted in Alicent turning against her own father, Alicent is hardened because of her trauma and ptsd. Unfortunately, because of this, she is a villain yet at the same time, that makes her more intriguing.  Alicent is lonely, and even IF she has Criston we can see that Criston in some case is more interested in sharing his hate for Rhaenyra with Alicent verses actually being there FOR Alicent. And Larys I think is his name, is just using her. Viserys also doesn’t listen to Alicent. So all Alicent has is her children. This brings us to what she said to Aegon. We all know that boy does not need to be king, but Alicent’s fear for Aegon is genuine. Was it right what she said/did to him? No, not at all. But it’s also not out of the blue. Again, Alicent is a victim of trauma, abuse, etc., from many people. That includes the Targayreans. She doesn’t trust them because honestly, why would she? Ever since she was forced to marry Viserys, they have not given her reasons to trust them. She doesn’t trust Aegon with them because she sees herself in Ageon. The carefreeness, the closeness with the Targayreans. She sees her own naivety and she doesn’t want him to get hurt. Unfortunately, I think this move and mindset will ruin her family.

But it is interesting seeing how Alicent has turned from the scared girl with no choice, to a power house of her own right. But she is still lonely.

This leads me to my next point, where Rhaenyra does indeed try to fix things. Two things happened here. 1.) Rhaenyra was genuine and 2.) it was understandable that Alicent refused her. Since the last episode, Rhaenyra has wanted to keep her relationship with Alicent. That is something that hasn’t changed until this episode. Everything she said at that table was genuine. Of course, Alicent didn’t believe her and again, I understand why. Both of their states of loneliness are what pushed them to make their decisions. Both of their states of trauma and confusion push them closer and away from each other. I think it was a mistake for Alicent to refuse Rhae. Rhaenyra was extremely vulnerable, she was open and she was truthful and Alicent, ridiculed her. Not only did she embarrass Rhaenyra, but she also called Rhaenyra by her first name, rather than addressing her as princess, which was disrespectful. At the end of the episode however, we get to see how both women face their loneliness. Alicent leans into self destructiveness whereas Rhaenyra leans into her family and makes best of it.  Needless to say I cannot wait to see them next episode.

Finally it brings us to poor Laena who was in a very similar relationship to both Alicent and Rhaenyra but instead, we saw how this situation killed Laena when she didn’t have as much choice or agency as the former. Of course, the situation in itself didn’t kill Laena, giving birth did. But the way I saw this was showing how the patriarchy is eventually going to kill them all. Laena was lonely, and the only one who was going to ever be able to fix that loneliness was a man. But Daemon refused because of his own needs. Laena is very much like Rhaenyra. She is wild and she is free, but she is also a woman in a patriarchal society. It is no surprise that giving birth is what killed Laena. I think that, at least my take on it is that, when you have women who are trying to regain control of their own lives but they are limited to their gender and the freedom in which their current station grants them, then it is going to end in doom. Each of these women is a victim to men around them and it will kill them one way or another. I actually plan to write a whole different post on Laena actually because she deserves that.

#hotd #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #laena velaryon #house of the dragon

[hprse]

Holy fuck seriously dont open those tags i opened it to see and it literally covered the entire screen LMAO

The tldr is im mentally ill and i feel disregarded by my parents and unseen to my friends so im really good at repression

#txt #all that repression comes out here #honestly i swear half this blog is me just venting or ranting #also i bet u i could analyze myself rn. thatd be funny #i bet u my wish to be seen by my friends and parents is greatly in part due to the fact that my connection to fandom #is greatly my love of character analysis which means i kind of wish i could be picked apart like that #which is a stupid wish i actually despise but i guess some deep inner part of me wants it #i bet u my repression of myself is also why im quick to lash out at frustration #i also bet you that my frustration at being unseen by my parents is part of my small amount of resentment towards my siblings #which also leads to me lashing out to them which i feel awful about and i hate doing because im the oldest #LMAO I GOT ELDEST SISTER DISORDER I FORGOT ABOUT THAT ✌️😎👌

[spideykaiparker]

Misleading Folders

Peter Parker x Avenger!reader

warning(s) : slight smut, fluff

summary : you like to record peter being cute, one day while you were recording him, he decided to... spice things up a little bit. flash forward to next week, the avengers finds a folder on your phone curiously going through it, leading to them finding a video that made them regret ever being curious.

author's note : I'm not confident about this:/ english is not my first language, sorry if there's any grammar or spelling mistakes.

happy reading ^_^

school was exhausting. you and peter had just gotten back from school, and now both of you were hanging out in his room in the avengers compound. right after you arrived at his room, you immediately throw yourself on the bed, glad that school was over for the day.

"ugh.. your bed is so comfortable, why isn't mine like this?" you groaned out, jealous by the comfort of peter's bed.

"um.. i think all of the beds here are the same, maybe you feel that way because it has my scent?" peter suggested with a shrug.

"hm, maybe, guess I'm just going to sleep here then"

"oh please, you already sleep here all the time, you basically already moved into my room" peter said, rolling his eyes, but the smile on his face indicates that he's not at all annoyed with you.

it's true, you stay in his room all the time, except when peter's not there at the moment, you hang out in your room.

you sat up against the headboard, playing with your phone, crossing your legs. while peter laid down horizontally on the edge of the bed, reading a book.

you both sat there for about 10 minutes, until you opened your legs, with your knees bent, and saw peter, reading his book, with his hands up holding the book, his lips caught between his teeth as he read the book with utter concentration.

you opened your camera app, recording him, because you think he looked cute, you take videos of him acting cute all the time, hell, you even have a folder for the videos.

"peter" you called, smiling

"yeah?" he looked to the side, to find you recording him, a smile of his own immediately morphing on his face.

"hi"

"hi" he answered with a slight laugh.

"what are you reading?"

"i don't know, just this book i found in the library, its kinda interesting"

suddenly, an idea popped up in his head. looking at you from in between your legs, with you recording him, made him think of several different things.

he slightly reached up and grabbed your shorts, pulling it down your legs with your underwear also coming off.

"wha—" you start, shocked by his sudden action.

"relax, we don't have to do anything, just keep talking, don't mind me" he cuts. his fingers slowly going up and down your slit, going up to your sensitive bud, circling two of his fingers on it.

"did me recording you, made you horny?" you asked, slightly amused.

"well partly, it's mostly because I've been thinking about you all day, wearing that short shorts of yours, and looking at you from between your legs also is one the reason" he simply replied.

"awee, you're wet already? you like it too don't you? you like recording me playing with your pretty pussy, huh?" he murmured.

his fingers came down to your slit, collecting the wetness that has gathered down there, then made its way back up to circle around the sensitive bud once again, but this time sliding much easier with your wetness.

your moans got louder as he pushed two of his fingers into your heat. he slowly thrusted his fingers inside of you, gradually getting faster with each thrust. his thumb going up to rub your abandoned clit.

"you like that?" he asks, smirking to the camera.

"a-ah... yes"

suddenly he pushed himself upwards towards you, burying his face between your thighs, planting his lips on your swollen bud, fingers still thrusting roughly inside of you while his free arm wraps around one of your thigh.

shocked by his actions, you dropped your phone on the bed facing upwards, the phone still recording, but can't see any of the actions happening.

"ah!— peter!" throwing your head back, you buried one of your hand in his curls, while the other gripped the sheets.

your hips bucking up to his face, so much that he has to grip your hips to stay put. you kept thrashing around, moaning louder and louder as time passes by.

his tongue plunges itself inside of you alongside of his fingers, thrusting at a harsh pace. his fingers sometimes coming up to play with your clit.

you could feel your orgasm coming soon, your stomach tightens, heat building up, you clench around his fingers, signaling him that you're close.

"ah— i'm cumming" you helplessly moaned out, your grip on his hair tightening.

"cum for me, baby" he groaned out, in between of his actions.

and with that you let go, gripping his hair tightly, throwing your head back, moaning out loud, couldn't care less about the possibility of people being able to hear you.

peter continues to lap up your heat, helping you through your orgasm, your body convulsing because of his actions.

when you were done, peter moved upwards, hovering over you with a smile on his face. his hands coming up to gently push away the hair that was sticking to your face due to the sweat.

looking up through your lashes, you pushed yourself up, hands coming around the back of his neck, pulling him down slightly to connect both of your lips.

his lips mold perfectly against yours, kissing you at a slow pace, pouring all of his emotions through the kiss.

suddenly you remembered something, "the camera" you said, pulling away from him. you reached out your hands, searching for your phone, eventually finding it, you pointed it towards peter.

"say byee~"

"byee~" he said while shaking his head, laughing. you ended the recording, putting your phone on the bedside table, then slowly reaching out for peter once again, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"c'mon let's go shower" he said, pulling away from you, sitting on his knees.

"but you're still hard" you pointed out, reaching your hand to cup his hard on, to which he moaned to.

"you can help me in the shower" he suggested, smirking at you.

"fine..." you replied, rolling your eyes, but your lips curved up to a smile.

pulling you up from the bed, he lead you to the bathroom to continue your activities earlier.

~

the week goes by, the avengers were going to have a movie night. now you were just preparing everything because it was your turn to pick the movie.

everyone was just lounging around on the couches in the common room, when suddenly Tony remembered something.

"hey Y/N can you send me the pictures we took yesterday?" he asked, slightly throwing his head back on the couch to look at you who was preparing the popcorns.

"yeah sure, here's my phone," you gave him your phone which was in your pocket, opening it beforehand so that he could use it, "you can send it yourself" you said absentmindedly, not really thinking about it too much.

grabbing the phone, he searches through your gallery, coming upon a folder labeled petey♡. curious, he opened the folder, seeing a bunch of pictures and videos of you and peter.

smiling, he opened the most recent video, it was a video of you and peter walking down the street, with peter's arm around your neck, holding you close, and your face slightly smushed into his chest, one of your arm holding on to the arm that was wrapped around your neck and the other wrapped around his waist, while you both kept walking. you were both laughing in the video looking completely in love.

while Tony was watching the video, the other members were slightly curious to what Tony was watching, one by one, they gathered around him peering into the phone, also watching the video. they all awed when they saw what Tony was watching, they thought that you two looked absolutely cute together, that you were meant to be. well maybe except sam and bucky, but even they had to admit, you two were disgustingly cute.

when the video ended, Tony slides to the next video, which was a video of you and peter cuddling on his bed, peter was half asleep while you were awake, with peter basically laying on top of you, resting his head on your chest, facing the camera, one of your arm wrapped around his neck while the other was outstretched, holding your phone, recording you both.

"c'mon peter, we gotta wake up" you said smiling, slightly shaking him.

"mm..5 more minutes.." he groggily answered, nuzzling his face into your chest.

"you said that 10 minutes ago" you deadpanned, rolling your eyes, but the smile was still etched on your face.

"mm.."

"i have a class at 9, pete" you sighed.

"don't go.." he whined back, slowly gaining consciousness.

"i have to, pete"

"no you don't have to, you can just stay here and cuddle with me" he murmured, a pout forming on his lips, tightening his hold on you as if he's afraid you're going to leave him.

"i promise I'll go straight home as soon as my classes are over" you explained, slowly pushing away from him, to which he whined, drawing you back.

"no~" he whined, when you finally got out of his grip, turning onto his back.

"I'll be back as soon as possible, okay?" you kissed his forehead. and with that the video ended.

the avengers cooed as they watched the soft moment, they all agreed that you guys were soulmates, completely in love with each other, being each others other half. it's funny seeing peter being so clingy with you, because usually peter was shy little bean with the avengers, though he opened up more little by little but not as much as he is with you.

tony swipes to the next item, it was a picture of the both of you sleeping on the couch while cuddling, you were laying your head on peter's chest, your arms wrapped around his torso, his arms wrapped securely around your waist while both of your legs tangled below, a blanket covering the both of you.

the picture was taken by MJ, when you were supposed to have a sleepover with Ned and MJ, but ended up sleeping halfway through the movie. the next morning MJ showed you the picture, you told MJ to send it to you, to add to your collection of cute moments.

once again, they all awed at the picture, you both looked content with each other, holding onto each other like you're both afraid one of you is going to disappear.

then Tony swipes to the next item, it was the video from last week, when peter decided to... spice it up a little. at first, the video looked normal, you were just recording peter, who was reading, from between your legs because that's where you can see his face.

"peter" you called out from the video.

"yeah?" he looked to the side, a smile immediately morphing on his lips when he saw that you were recording him while smiling.

"hi"

"hi" he answered with a slight laugh, smiling widely.

"what are you reading?"

"i don't know, just this book i found in the library, its kinda interesting"

then peter had this... look on his face, suddenly he reached up, grabbing your shorts, pulling it down with your underwear.

"WOAH" nearly all of them screamed

"wha—" you said from the video

almost immediately, Tony slammed the phone face down his lap, the video still playing, so they could hear what's happening in the video.

"relax, we don't have to do anything, just keep talking, don't mind me" peter's slightly deeper voice ranged out.

the avengers were— to say the least, very surprised, they looked at each other with shock clearly written on their faces. they didn't think that the shy innocent looking peter would turned out to be very dirty.

they weren't paying much attention now, too shocked by the new piece of information. their attention snapped back to the video when they heard peter again.

"awee, you're wet already? you like it too don't you? you like recording me playing with your pretty pussy, huh?" they heard him murmur.

they couldn't believe it, peter parker, the guy who blushes at just a mention of a kiss, the guy who gets shy with even the slightest display of affection with you, is actually really dirty.

you started to let out quiet moans, gradually getting louder, the sounds of his slick finger playing with your heat, getting louder and louder.

"—oh my god, turn it off!"

immediately Tony flipped the phone to turn off the video, getting a glimpse of peter moving to bury his face in your heat.

"ah!— peter!" then he immediately turned off the video.

when the video was finally turned off, they all looked at each other with wide eyes, choosing to not say anything to each other for a while to avoid making it even more awkward.

"um... should we talk to them?"

"ew, why?" sam said with disgust, wishing to burn the image of you and peter from his mind.

"i think we should" natasha spoke up.

"yeah, i think so too, i mean, we didn't even know they were sexually active until now, we should at least tell them to be safe" steve said with his arms crossed, looking at everyone.

"yeah okay, at least i can tease him with it now" bucky said with a cheeky smirk.

"well that's settled, let's wait 'til they get back from getting the popcorns" rhodey suggested.

~

not long after that... incident, you and peter came back from the kitchen bringing 4 bowls of popcorn, handing it to the other members on the couch.

"alright, now I've decided that we will watch—" you started but got cut off by Tony.

"wait, actually we have something we want to talk to you about" he holds up his hand, cutting you off. "both of you"

"okay..." you and peter slowly sat down on the couch, looking warily to each other.

"what's wrong?" you asked, concerned.

"well, you know how i was going to send the pictures from yesterday from your phone?" Tony starts.

"yeah..."

"well i happened to stumble upon an interesting folder" you froze, your eyes widening almost immediately when you heard him.

"yeah..." you let out with a nervous chuckle.

now peter was confused, what were you talking about? why did you suddenly froze? is there something in that fol— his eyes widened, suddenly remembering the video you took last week, his cheeks redden from his thoughts.

"well we found an interesting video there"

"wait— we?" you sputter out. wishing to bury yourself in the ground so you don't have to face this.

"yes we, at first we thought that it was just videos of you guys being cute, but then..." he trailed off.

you both are frozen now, too embarrassed to do anything. already knowing which video he's talking about.

"judging by your reactions, i assume you both already know what video I'm talking about"

"yeah..." you both meekly answered.

"i mean I'm not judging, you guys can do whatever you want, but i just have one question"

"what is it?" peter asked weakly.

"are you guys being safe?"

"oh my god! of course! okay, first of all, i don't want to have this talk with you guys, okay? we already got it from aunt may, we don't need it from you guys, and besides, we're both 19, we know what to do, you don't have to worry okay? we're being safe. and second of all, why would you go through my folders! i just told you to send the pictures from yesterday" you answered, still embarrassed.

"we were curious okay? you guys are so cute together" wanda answered.

"but still!—" you start but got cut off by Tony

"—okay okay! we're not going to give you the talk, you guys are old enough already, plus it's kind of weird giving you the talk, and we're sorry for going through your folders" Tony shuddered just by thinking about it.

"but peter, i didn't know you were wild, man" sam teased with a smirk on his face.

"ugh.. shut up" peter answered, hiding his face behind your shoulder.

"no, but seriously though, we thought you were just an innocent little bean, but little did we know..." bucky trailed off, a smirk also evident on his face.

"stoooop" he's hiding his entire body behind you now. you laughed, bringing him from behind you, wrapping your arms around him, his face buried in your neck.

"great! now that that's settled, can we continue movie night now?" rhodey spoke up.

you all agreed, turning on the movie of your choice, then each of you settling in comfortable positions.

you obviously cuddled with peter, a blanket draped over both of you, your head resting on his chest, arms wrapped around him tightly, peter's arm wrapped around your shoulder.

halfway through the movie, you saw that peter was slightly dozing off, so you decided to head up with peter.

"hey, we're heading up first okay? —c'mon pete" you said while pulling him up.

"use protection!" bucky shouted from the couch as you and peter went down the hallway.

"shut up!" you grumbled back.

the rest of the team just laughed then continued watching the movie while you and peter continued your way to his room.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker smut #peter parker fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #peter parker #tom holland #spider man #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fic #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x avenger!reader #peter x reader #tom x reader

[blzzrdstryr]

Generous offering

Yandere!Zhongli x gn!Fatui Harbinger!reader

Wordcount:1843

CW:Yandere themes

There are several simple things one should know before dealing with the archons - be respectful and polite, speak only when you’re allowed to and most importantly - never forget that archons aren’t humans.

The first two rules are instinctive - it’s natural for humans to simper and bow before the forces far greater than them, while the latter is not; on the contrary it’s counterintuitive and unexpected. People tend to project, tend to humanize - they see kindness when there’s none and make a huge mistake of assuming that archons see things the way they see it.

Tsaritsa, for example, lacks humanity, despite holding the title of Goddess of Love. The love that she holds for you is different from love mothers and fathers give to their children, or love that young sweethearts share at night, it’s cold and impersonal and undeniably cruel.

Tsaritsa says that she loves all of you and she loves Snezhnaya, yet she lashes out a harsh and gruelling punishments at every perceived failure and rules her land with an iron fist, one would think that the cryo archon is a liar and a hypocrite, who uses pretty, flowery words to hide the atrocities she commits, but this perspective is flawed. Tsaritsa loves all of you and she loves Snezhnaya, she’s just not human enough to properly express this.

That’s why it’s a bit jarring to see the ancient lord of these lands in his mortal form - he lacks the same otherworldly terror and grandiose that every of Tsaritsa’s move and word carry, yet he also possesses the air of wisdom and elegance so refined that rare person can reach it. It’s easy to assume that he’s human.

Rex Lapis, or “Zhongli” as he calls himself now invites you to the Liuli pavillion the second day after your arrival, for tea and local cuisine as he says, and who are you to decline a God?

Liuli staff hurries and dashes around, preparing their best room for you - Fatui are known for their seemingly endless finances, no wonder they’re in haste. “Please make yourself comfortable, dear guests”, the waiter curtsies and leads you to the dining room, which happens to be richly furnished and decorated with high-quality darkwood furniture and the hand painted wall panels further accentuating the luxury of the restaurant.

One of these panels illustrate different scenes from the Liyuen mythos - a battle of mighty and wise adepti against the horde of demons, Rex Lapis aiding his people in building the Harbour and the most spectacular one - a majestic dark brown dragon with golden fur and feathers descending to the devoted worshippers, who in turn present him with their offerings and gratitude.

He orders tea and meals for both of you, as you start to converse about the plan that he is determined to bring into life - the so-called test of Liyue, and the guarantee of you obtaining his gnosis.

“And what about your colleague?”, he sips a bit of his tea, intense amber eyes piercing right through you. He looks both human and non-human in this moment, both undeniably mortal softness and frailty seen in his figure and the barely concealed divinity, the sense of awe slowly seeping into air mixing in one person.

“And what about him? Tsaritsa and you have negotiated everything beforehand, I will make sure that he plays his part properly”, he hums at your answer, lowering his gaze deep in thought. You start on your own tea.

Ah, Childe, if only he knew why exactly he’s here - a distraction and a scapegoat. You even feel bad for him - it’s truly unfair to be lied to by your own Goddess. However, it’s also not a big surprise - Childe is the loudest out of all Harbingers in all senses. Infamous for his skills and battle obsession, his name is enough to have people both shivering in fear and cursing him.

“What do you think of your archon? Was serving her of any use to you?”Rex Lapis unexpectedly asks.

You lean back in your seat, thinking what to say.

“Tsaritsa is a gentle soul, she declared war only to protect us, her subjects and I am ready to aid her in whatever undertaking she starts”.

“Will you continue to serve Tsaritsa, if her action might put you in danger, make you suffer and bring unnecessary grief?”, he leans closer to you, his human features distorting enough to reveal the ancient dragon sleeping inside. His eyes shine a cold golden glow and accurate fingernails morph into sharp, dark claws.

“Yes”, you breathe out, mesmerized and terrified by the sudden change: “Her love knows no bounds, yet she always puts the needs of the nation before anyone else. If my suffering can help Snezhnaya, then I will accept it with open arms”, he moves back at your answer, all draconic traces gone in an instance, upper corner of his lips subtly rising - whatever you said must’ve pleased him immensely.

The conversation flows back into the territory of plans to be realized, yet the cold sensation of dread still clings to you, your gut feeling yelling at you to get up and run. You remain seated to the end of your meeting, politely conversing with the God that terrifies you.

***

Days slowly grow into weeks and Childe acts just as you have expected - the Eleventh Harbinger might be smart, yet even he wouldn’t be able to see what two of you are scheming. Still, you request Ekaterine, a spy you planted in Northland bank, to keep you updated on the Tartaglia’s actions - extra caution never hurts.

You continue to meet up with geo archon, as you two discuss your next actions. Tartaglia has started cooperating with that blonde foreigner Signora has warned you about, and while this union doesn’t pose any threat to your plans, it’s always good to have a plan B, just in case something happens.

Sometimes your conversation develops into a more unexpected direction, as you find the archaic lord more chatty and tending to ramble, than any of Liyuen historians would dare to picture him as. One on such occasion he talks with you about dragons - benevolent deities who protect and bless their people in an exchange of generous offerings.

His eyes devour you, as he retells you ancient folktales and you suppress your discomfort, preferring to attribute his honestly unnerving behaviour down to his lack of humanity - he was never human in the first place.

That’s why you also prohibit yourself from viewing him as anything but God - Rex Lapis in his “Zhongli” persona is genuinely attractive, he’s well-mannered and obviously handsome and far more knowledgeable than any mortal should be. If you didn’t know of his true nature you would have fallen for him by now - it’s hard not to.

Life, how strange that wouldn’t sound, goes as usual - you get Ekaterine’s report on what Childe’s up to and if it’s something unexpected you book a Liuli pavilion room and send an invitation to the funeral parlour consultant. You only need to wait until Childe gets desperate enough and decides to use the sigils of permission to unleash the well-awaited chaos.

This routine however is soon broken by the appearance of familiar ashy-white hair in the distance. She doesn’t wear her signature mask or dress, nor are there agents at both of her sides, yet you can still clearly recognize her. Signora leaves the Wangsheng building in haste, cape with the hood concealing most of her face and figure, except the long locks of hair, peeking from inside.

What is she doing here?

You thought that Tsaritsa sent two of her servants - Tartaglia and you, him to “test” Liyue, you to oversee the former’s actions and obtain gnosis, there’s no need to send her too.

Your mind races, as you search for a logical explanation of Signora’s presence as your memory supplies the piece of first conversation you had with “Zhongli” - could it be that Tsaritsa also sent you to play a role you have no idea of?

Cryo archon is a goddess of love and her love is cruel and unforgiving, she has sacrificed countless chess pieces before, so it wouldn’t be surprising if she did that again - you are nothing but a pawn after all, one of the tools she uses to exact her will and force her vision, all of the Harbingers are.

You want to believe that you can accept and resign to whatever hardship and fate your Goddess might subject you to. You can’t.

***

Adepti and Qixing converse at the pier of the seaport, as you hurry to the Northland Bank, a slight smile playing on your lips - Childe has finally done it - he summoned an ancient god to lure out Rex Lapis, ultimately proving that Liyue can stand without him.

There are sounds of heated argument heard when you open the building’s door and then you see it - Signora and Tartaglia exchanging barely concealed insults and “Zhongli” standing nearby.

“[Harbinger]? What are you doing here?”, the ginger shifts his gaze onto you, a rare emotion of hurt and disbelief flickering in his dead fish eyes. “Of course, Tsaritsa sent you too”, he smiles, angry and disappointed. “Seems that whole world wants to make a bad guy out of me”, he stomps out of the room, leaving you with Signora and “Zhongli”

“[Harbinger]”

“Signora'', you acknowledge each other, after she trails exiting Childe with her eyes.

“I am here to take the gnosis of Rex Lapis”, she says and you nod, accepting that your Goddess lied to you too: “Tsaritsa also asked me to give you this letter”, she extends her arm, a thick envelope with the familiar seal catching your attention.

With the trembling hands you snatch it out of her hold and almost rip the envelope - for what reason did Tsaritsa send you here?

She writes that you need to stay in Liyue for an undetermined period of time to upkeep “the agreement” made between her and Rex Lapis. You read her message silently, yet when your eyes trace over these words, the sensation of “ “Zhongli’s” eyes on you becomes ten times sharper and stifling. You don’t know what to do.

The other Harbinger leaves too, taking the gnosis with her, as “Zhongli” takes a couple of steps to you, touching your shoulder in a somewhat reassuring gesture. “[First]”, he starts, tone sympathetic and soothing. You don’t fall for it.

“You had your hand in it, didn't you?”, you hiss and accuse, throwing an angry glance at him, momentarily forgetting about the first two rules of dealing with archons.

He smiles, revealing two sharp fangs, his surprisingly scaly hands snaking around yours. “Yes”, Rex Lapis admits, and looks nothing like gentle and knowledgeable “Zhongli”. How could you forget? Archons aren’t humans, humanity is just a fancy dress they don to toy with mortals. He is the dragon, not the benevolent deity that is painted on the wall panels of Liuli pavillion, but a greedy and ancient creature, hungry for gifts and gratitude.

You are his generous offering.

#yandere genshin impact #Yandere genshin #Yandere Zhongli #Yandere Zhongli x reader #Yandere genshin impact x reader #Yandere genshin x reader #Male yandere #my writing #Yandere x reader #Male yandere x reader

[badassbuchanan]

Taking Care of Needs

Request: Omg if you start writing for Lance and ransom I would love you forever! I absolutely love them!

Warnings: smut; non!con (kind of), dom!sub vibes, dirty talk, handjob, fingering, unprotected sex, reader IS of age, rough, semi-public.

Word Count: 4725

A/N: okay so Lance is really fun to write for - requests and taglist are open!

The gymnasium had emptied out as the argument between me and Coach Tucker continued. It should’ve been a simple conversation. All I was asking for was extra access to the gym so that I could practice a little more each day. Something that I thought would’ve made Lance proud, or at least happy.

But, in true Lance ‘the fucker’ Tucker fashion, he didn’t do what I expected him to do. Oh no, he shut the idea down straight away, with no reasonable explanation. Other than him doing it just to take advantage of his authority, of course.

“I’m not asking for a lot,” I crossed my arms sassily with a frown, looking at my coach who’d closed his eyes in frustration. He was just as tired of this conversation that was going around in circles, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to back down first. “But if you want me to get better-“

“This isn’t about you getting better,” He argued with an underlying anger in his voice, hands on his hips. “This is about you wanting more attention that the other girls.”

“Oh come on,” I rolled my eyes, watching as he mirrored my arms-crossed stance. His cockiness pissed me off. Standing there with his stupidly perfect face. How dare he tell me what I wanted. “You can’t seriously believe that’s why I’m asking.”

He shrugged sarcastically, lifting his hand before slapping it back down against his forearm. Lance turned on his heels to walk away from me before I could respond, obviously over the conversation. He knew I was aggravated, he was just trying to wind me up even more for his own amusement.

“Lance, you’re not listening to me.” I responded as my blood began to boil, almost bouncing out of frustration as I followed him into his office. “Do you want to see me fail? I need the extra time to be on my best game.”

He scoffed as he walked around to the back of his desk, adjusting some papers that were carelessly scattered on the surface. He was done giving me his time of day, he’d given me his answer and he expected me to listen. 

“I’m your coach, Y/N. You need what I tell you to need.” His voice was unsettlingly calm now. Lance was known for being a hot head. For lashing out and being dramatic. But he was quiet. Full of a dominance that dripped in confidence. It was like witnessing a calm before a storm. 

“Well then maybe I should find myself a coach that understands my needs.” I snapped childishly. I knew it wasn’t going to go down well. No one spoke back to Coach Tucker. Everyone loved Coach Tucker. Everyone was scared of Coach Tucker. Everyone had a crush on Coach Tucker. Which meant he always got his own way.

His eyes locked onto mine, his jaw clenched as he looked at me like I was his prey. His whole body stilled as a dangerous thought entered his mind. I felt suddenly nervous and aroused under his stare as he walked around the side of the table closest to me. 

“This isn't about extra time in the gym at all, is it?” His eyebrow raised as his ass leaned against the desk, crossing his arms over his toned body covered in the navy olympic sweater. 

I stayed silent, my teeth clenched in aggravation as I watched a cocky smile cover his face momentarily. Fuck. Was my attitude really that evident? I’d always been so obedient, especially when it came to Lance. If he told me to jump, I’d jump. If he told me to stretch, I’d stretch. If he told me to only drink water, I’d only drink water. If he told me to stop having sex, I stopped. And that’s exactly what the asshole had done. 

He’d put a hard ban on any kind of sexual activity in the lead up to the upcoming trials. Explicitly confirming that it also included masturbation. It had been weeks. Weeks of built up frustration and overwhelming need. Frustration that had turned me into a brat with a bad attitude.

“C’mere.” Lance leaned his head back slightly, jaw gesturing for me to go to him when I didn’t respond. I suddenly felt myself falling into a state of submission as I watched him grip his palms onto the edge of the desk next to his hips.

I stepped forward slowly in anticipation, swallowing nervously as I stood directly in front of him, his body towering over mine even from his slightly slouched position.

“Tell me. What is it that you need?” Lance arched his eyebrow as he looked down at me powerfully. His voice was dripping with confidence as he grabbed my wrist roughly, pulling it towards him. “Use your words, sweetheart. I can’t be a good coach if you don’t talk to me.” 

My throat went dry, my heartbeat rapidly increasing as I stood between his thick thighs. The lack of sexual attention had caused my senses to heighten, already become aroused by his simple touch on my hand. 

His strong grip had me imagining what it would be like to have his hands on other parts of my body. Sure, I’d thought about having sex with Lance before, but only in the privacy of my own bedroom. Only if I was desperate and needed to imagine something to cum to. 

“Let me ask you again,” He licked his lips, guiding my hand to palm his crotch over the silky material of his tracksuit pants. I gasped in shock of his sudden forwardness, the prominent outline of his thick cock hard against my palm as he tightened his grip around my wrist. “What is it that you need?”

I could feel how big he was, my panties dripping with arousal as I bravely squeezed his bulge beneath my fingers. I was in awe of just how thick he felt through his clothes, suddenly eager to get my hands on his hard member.

“Is it this?” Lance’s tone softened slightly, watching my hand palm over his throbbing cock. He could feel pre-cum leaking from his tip, lost in the feeling of my small hand on him. He licked his lips before letting his mouth hang open, his spare hand, wrist decorated with his watch, came up to grab my other hand, placing it on his hip to steady myself. 

“Do you need Coach to take care of that ache between your legs, baby? Is that it?” His voice was sickeningly sweet, speaking to me as if I were a child. My cheeks flooded pink, shamelessly palming Lance’s cock, embarrassed that it was drenching my leotard, material so tight it didn’t allow me to wear panties underneath. “Did I go too hard on you with the no sex rule, huh? Could that needy little pussy of yours not take it?”

Lance cupped my cheek with the hand that wasn’t holding my hand on his crotch, his thumb tracing over my bottom lip. I nodded slightly with a pout, closing my eyes in the pleasure. I eagerly parted my lips like an eager little slut for him, which Lance noticed, causing a shit eating grin to appear on his face. 

“It’s okay if that’s what you need, little one. You can tell me.” He pushed his thumb in my mouth, biting his lower lip as I sucked on his digit obediently. I let my tongue glide up and down the length of his thumb, treating it as if it were his cock I was sucking on. 

“Yes.” I whimpered out softly around his thumb, pressing my hand against his crotch harder as a soft grunt escaped his lips. He bit down on his bottom lip, looking at me expectantly as he waited for me to continue. “Please.”

“Such good manners, sweetheart.” He smirked in amusement at my cooperation. His eyes were blown out and full of lust as he nudged his thumb back into my mouth.

I welcomed him eagerly, my tongue laying flat against the pad of his thumb, my lips sucking around him with a hum.

“Such an eager little girl for your coach, aren’t you?” Lance’s tone dripped in sarcasm, something I usually fought back at. But I didn’t want it to end. I was far too invested in the feeling of his cock heavy against my hand.

My pussy juices had already started leaking down onto my leotard, clit throbbing at his filthy words. There was no denying Lance was fucking sexy. His perfect hair, chiseled jawline, glowy eyes, muscly body. How could I resist?

Lance pulled his thumb covered with my saliva from my mouth, looking into my eyes as he covered my lips with the wetness. I squeezed his cock harder than before, a strangled grunt leaving his lips before he smirked darkly down at me. He was high on the neediness he was drawing out of me. 

His thumb travelled down my jaw and throat before his hand wrapped around my neck. I let out a little whine as Lance squeezed my neck lightly, my innocent sparkly eyes gazing up at him. I got lost in the overwhelming scent of his aftershave mixed with hair gel.

“You can have it, baby.” Lance spoke sweetly, his eyebrows raised as he looked down at me. It was as if he’d read my mind. I was desperate to feel his hot, hard cock against my bare hand. “Take what you need.” 

Despite his instructions, I still looked up at him, asking for permission as my hands moved to the elasticated waistband of his tracksuit bottoms. Lance rolled his eyes as he grew impatient, he was just as turned on as I was. He grabbed hold of my wrist with the hand that wasn’t around my neck. 

I swallowed nervously, looking up to meet his darkened eyes. “I said take it.” He growled deeply, guiding my hand inside his pants. To no surprise, Lance had gone commando, my fingers coming straight into contact with his soft, hot skin. 

I whimpered as he let go of my wrist, my head dropping to where my hand disappeared into his track pants. I bit my lip to muffle a moan, my fingers wrapping around his thick length. He was so soft, almost like velvet. His cock was heavy and throbbing under my touch.

My wetness felt like it was dripping down my thighs as I clenched around nothing, my pussy desperate to have him inside me.

Lance groaned as he watched me in awe of his cock, my thumb rubbing over his reddened tip. I thought about how full I would feel with him fucking into me, his rough hands on my waist as he impaled me on his cock.

I rubbed my thighs together, trying to relieve some of the tension building between my legs, but it barely helped. My pussy started to ache, a dull pain beginning to grow with my horny state.

Lance pulled his track pants away from his body, giving us both a clear view of his member. “Spit.” He instructed dominantly, my submissive side complying without hesitation. I spat down onto his cock, lubricating him as I pumped his length in my hand. I saw a small section of his tattoo that covered his crotch, secretly getting a thrill of knowing such a personal detail about him.

“So big.” I whimpered out weakly, desperate for sex. Lance’s eyes trailed down my body, noticing my pebbled nipple so evident through the thin leotard I wore.

He chuckled deviently, letting the elasticsted band snap back against his body. His hand moved away from my neck, unzipping the Olympic hoodie covering his torso.

He bucked up into my hand as he removed the jumper from his body, the short sleeved white polo hugged his muscular figure. He ran his hand through his perfectly placed hair before his hands went back to gripping the edge of the desk.

Lance’s eyes burned into my body as he bit his lip, unbelievably thankful that his plan to starve me of intimacy had worked out in his favour, just the way he’d planned.

Exactly the same as he was watching me now, Lance loved to watch me in the gymnasium. He paid special attention to the way my boobs jiggled so noticbly against my toned body. He noticed the tight material of the leotards hugging every crevice of my pussy. He noticed my ass stick out every time I stuck a landing. Oh, he’d noticed. He’d also noticed the way his cock reacted every time he did.

“C’mere.” He mumbled in a raspy voice, looking at me with nodded eyes as his fingers hooked into the leg opening on the leotard to pull me closer. I shuffled toward him, our chests almost pressing together as I stood between his thighs. I felt the movement of my hand pumping his cock hitting my lower tummy every time as his hand snaked around to my ass. 

Lance pushed my long pony tail around to my back before cupping my cheek with his calloused fingers. He hissed as my hand fucked him, thighs flexing at the overwhelming sensation. 

Lance leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. It was a kiss that was so soft and yet had an overwhelming dominance to it. One that made me let out a whimper, craving to have him do it again. And he did.

I opened my mouth as my hand that was jerking him off picked up the pace. Lance ran his tongue over my lips before gently pushing it between my teeth teasingly. He let out a groan, his hand massaging my ass cheek.

“Listen carefully, baby.” Lance growled through clenched teeth, our kiss becoming sloppy as it deepened. My pussy throbbed as I imagined his cock fucking me, my spare hand feeling the muscles on his chest as I got lost in the moment. “I’m the only one who can have you. And I want you to come and tell me whenever that sweet little pussy gets needy. I’ll look after you, I promise.”

His words had my clit throbbing with lust, my hand pumping his cock hard as I felt it twitch, signalling he was almost at his climax. I nodded softly, desperately pecking his lips repeatedly as his hands spread my ass cheeks apart.

“But you’ve got to stop being a brat, okay?” Lance grunted irritably, remembering how argumentative I’d been with him earlier. “I hate seeing my favourite girl trying to act all bitchy and demanding. It doesn’t suit you.” 

“Yes coach.” I whimpered submissively, moaning at the feeling of Lance’s fingers digging between my ass cheeks to massage my pussy. I bucked my hips forward, my clit nudging his shaft as my chest pushed against his.

“Good girl.” Lance moaned softly, looking down between our bodies at where his cock was touching my pussy. He pulled me closer roughly, both of my hands coming up to his shoulders to steady myself. His cock rested between our bodies, hard and needy for attention.

Lance’s fingers pushed the crotch of my leotard to the side, sliding effortlessly between my slick folds. “Lance.” I cried out softly, so sensitive from being kept pure for weeks. My hips bucked forward, my pelvis grinding against his length.

A shiver went through my body as my nipples rubbed against his chest through the material of our clothes.

“Listen to how wet you are for me,” He grunted in amusement, imagining my pussy wetting his dick. I closed my eyes, breathing shakily as I listened to his fingers pushing in and out of my hole with a squelching sound. “Fuck, my fingers are basically slipping out.”

I leaned in and pressed my lips against his needily, relaxing into his touch as I pushed my ass out for him. Lance smirked at my action, kissing me back as he gripped the base of his cock, angling it to nudge against my pussy.

“Fuck.” I moaned with a squeak, immediately rocking my hips forward to guide him between my folds. Lance slid his cock between my pussy lips, drenching himself in my wetness.

“Tell me what you need.” Lance growled, both hands on my hips as he glided my pussy up and down his cock, making me feel so good without being inside me.

“You.” I whimpered desperately, almost crying with frustration as I clung to his shoulders, looking down at where his thick length slid between my legs.

“You’ve got me,” Lance reminded me without hesitation, experimentally bucking his hips forward to meet my movements. I gasped at the feeling of his tip pushing against my entrance, my hand moving up to play with his groomed hair. “What do you need?”

“Fuck me,” I breathed out shakily, my head clouded by the building pleasure inside of me. I couldn’t think straight, I just knew what Lance was telling me. I needed a fuck, and he was going to be the one to do it. “Pound me. Hurt me. Take me. I don’t care, I just need you.”

Lance slapped my ass harshly, satisfied by my desperate state as he forced me to take a step back. “Bend over the desk.” He instructed with a deep voice, watching my bewildered state as I tried to clear my head.

I processed his demand and moved quickly, laying my body down on the tidy part of his desk, my ass on display for him. I rested on my elbows and turned my head to the side to look at Lance.

He pursed his lips together as he stood up straight, moving to stand directly behind me. My leotard was still pushed to the side, my pussy lips on display for him.

Lance didn’t hesitate to rub his tip against my entrance, my aching hole already having to stretch for him. I clawed at the desk, my back arching as I tried to wiggle his cock into me.

“Stop wiggling you little brat.” Lance growled, forcing my hips against the hard wood of his desk as he stepped forward, his shaft sliding a little more into me.

“But it hurts.” I whimpered with a pout, a hard ache in my clit from where it was pushed against the desk. Lance didn’t listen, my whine sending him into a world of euphoria.

His jaw clenched as he sheathed himself fully inside me, my tight walls restricting his movements. I let out a cry as I tried to take in his large size, feeling like I was being split in half.

“You still want a new coach, baby? You think someone else would take care of you like this?” Lance grunted, having the decency to still his hips inside of me while I adjusted. “Fucking say it.”

He used his right hand to smack my ass cheek harshly when I didn’t respond, errupting a loud whimper from me. “No, I want you coach.” I licked my lips, turning my head to the side as I look back at him. The movement made his dick impale me even deeper, my body weakening under his touch.

“Fuck, that’s it baby. Tell me who I am.” Lance whispered, unable to stop his hips from beginning to fuck in and out of me. He’d tried to wait, but if he stayed still inside of my tight walls any longer, he would instantly cum.

I closed my eyes, biting my lip as Lance’s hips pressed further into me, his cock pushing against my tummy. I grip onto the edge of the table, clenching my pussy around him.

“Say it.” Lance demanded, his hand coming down to spank my ass harshly. I whimpered at the feeling, my hips jolting forward which made his cock move inside me. The pain of his hard length had began to subside, leaving me with a dull ache of need rather than soreness.

“You’re my coach.” I moaned out and rocked my hips back against him again, taking him by surprise as his hands grip my ass, pulling it harder against him.

Lance grunted in pleasure, his eyes fixed on watching his cock disappear between my ass cheeks. He pulled his hips back before pushing them forward, slowly starting to fuck me.

“Say it again.” He growled, his pace quickening as the feeling of my walls hugging his shaft had him twitching inside of me.

Lance pounded into me as I rocked my hips back against him as much as I could with his strong hands controlling my hips. I moaned in pure extacy, the slight pain of his rough fucking only had my pussy tingling with pleasure. “Coach.”

“Huh? Who am I? Say it louder, little one.” His degrading tone had me biting m lip, my tits rubbing against the hard wood of the desk with every thrust.

“Coach,” I cried as Lance leaned forward to push his chest against my back, giving him even more of a deeper angle. “My coach.”

I breathed out shakily, using all my strength to push up on my elbows, then onto my hands as I pressed my back against his chest even harder.

“Yeah, that’s it. I’m your coach.” He moaned sexily, his hands moved up my sides to cup my boobs harshly. I felt his fingers dig into the material of my leotard, hearing a rip as I looked down, his strong grip ripping the material against my chest.

“Lance.” I whimpered with a slight annoyance, his hands cupping my bare boobs from where he’d torn my outfit as he continued to fuck into me.

He just scoffed at my whine with a smirk, tugging on my hardened nipples as my palms pressed flat into the surface of the desk to steady myself.

I could feel his cock deeper inside of me from this angle, the sound of our skin slapping together echoed through his office.

His breath tickled my neck, his length slamming in and out of me harshly as he fucked me on his desk. I whimpered at the angle, my clit nudging the edge of the table with every thrust.

My legs started to tingle as he fucked me into the table. I could feel my orgasm bubbling up inside of me, thighs clenching together for more friction.

“Leg up, baby.” Lance instructed, one of his hands coming down to smack my right thigh when I didn’t immediately do as I was told.

I liked the feeling of his cock rubbing between my pressed together thighs, his legs caging mine in. I didn’t want to change the angle, not when I was so close to my high.

“What, did I fuck you stupid or are you just being disobedient?” Lance growled angrily, not liking the fact that I challenged his dominance. I could feel the silky material of his pants press against my thighs where he’d been too lazy to take them off. “Listen to your coach, sweetie.”

I whimpered with a pout, sightly worried that he’d stop fucking me if I didn’t listen to him. I lifted my leg up, bending my knee to sit my calf under my thigh. I whimpered, my pussy still full cock his cock as he watched me squirm, his movements deepening with the new position.

I squeezed around his cock repeatedly, overwhelmed with pleasure. He was fucking right. No one else could make me feel as good as he could. I was his.

“Lance.” I cried out erotically with a moan, bouncing myself on his cock. Lance met my thrusts with small groans, my pussy lips dragging up and down his shaft with every movement.

“So fucking needy for your coach.” He grunted, jolting his hips back and forth aggressively. His pace quickened as slapping sounds of our bodies touching continued to fill the room.

“Am I right?” Lance’s hands gripped my hips, standing back up straight to get a better view of me. I whimpered and turn my head to face him, meeting the gaze of his eyes, his eyebrow arched as his lips parted. “Huh?”

“Yes.” I breathed out shakily as I clenched around his cock, his words still making me wet. His cock continued to pound in and out of me as I start circling my hips, causing us both to let out a moan.

“Who do you belong to?” Lance growled, pushing my chest down against the hard wood table by a hand on my shoulder. He kept his hand there, holding me down as he pounded into me.

“You, coach.” I complied with his questioning, arching my back as his hand holds my hip still, letting him take back full control as I am now unable to move.

“Say it.” He demanded, letting his head drop back as his mouth hangs open, almost completely exhausted.

“I’m yours.” I finally released the words he’d so desperately needed to hear. His pace quickened as he chased his high.

“I’m gunna cum.” His cock twitched at my words as he lets out a soft moan, his hips smashing against my ass as he took me from behind.

“Not inside me.” I cried out in a last sensible thought before closing my eyes as I felt my climax take over. I let out a loud moan, holding onto his hand that was on my hips as I rode out th hardest orgasm I’d ever experienced.

“Fuck.” Lance grunted, ignoring my words as his hips jolted irraticly as he began losing control. “Take it.”

“Lance, fuck. Not inside me.” I moaned, clenching around his length as the throbbing between my legs began to subside, coming down from my high.

“Oh yeah,” His hand came up to my arm, forcefully tugging me to stand up, our bodies flush against each other. His hands dropped to dig into my hips, fucking my ass against his pelvis. “Gunna drench that needy pussy in my cum.”

I moaned softly, my sensitive pussy aching to feel his cum. But what if I got pregnant? So close to trials. I pushed my hand back against his hip, but Lance wouldn’t stop, he needed to cum inside me.

“Don’t panic, baby. Coach knows what you need, remember?” Lance breathed shakily as the overwhelming pleasure of his cum filling me up washed over him. He let out a moan, a soft grunt following as his thrusts come to a halt, finshing inside me.

“Fuck.” He panted, leaning his head back in a moment of bliss before he pulled his softening cock out of my pussy.

I whimpered at the sudden emptiness, our mixed juices running down the inside of my thigh as Lance tucked himself back into his pants. I quickly adjusted the crotch area of my leotard back into position.

“You gunna be less bratty now?” Lance asked sweetly, forcing me to face him as his finger came to hold my chin up, our eyes meeting.

“Yes, coach.” I answered dotingly, my eyes fucked out and glazed over as Lance licked his lips.

“There’s my good girl.” He spoke softly, eyes dropping to my lips before he planted a kiss on them.

“We’ll work on your new schedule starting tomorrow.” He snapped back into business mode, stepping away as he moved to grab the navy jumper which he’d previously discarded onto the desk. “You can have all the extra time in the gym you need, you just have to come and see me in my office before you do.”

Lance and I both knew he didn’t mean ‘see him in his office’. He meant come and suck me off. He meant let me fuck you like a whore. He meant that this was going to happen again. And my heart beamed with joy at thought.

“Yes coach.” I spoke obediently as he handed me his Olympic jumper, a frown of confusion covering my face. “Won’t people know we fucked or something if I go out wearing this?”

Lance shrugged, cocky as ever as a shit eating grin covered his face. “Up to you, Sweetie.” He leaned back against the desk and crossed his arms, just as he had done when we’d first entered. “But go out wearing that,” Lance gestured at my chest with his hand, and I suddenly realised he was referring to the gaping hole he’d created. “And they’ll definitely know.”

taglist: 

@harrysthiccthighss​

@annestine​

@bestofbucky​

#lance tucker #lance tucker smut #lance tucker imagine #lance tucker oneshot #lance tucker fanfic #lance tucker x reader #lance tucker x oc #sebastian stan x oc #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #sebastian Stan imagine #Sebastian Stan oneshot #marvel smut #marvel imagine #marvel oneshot #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #captain america imagine #captain america oneshot #captain america smut #captain america x reader

[meosayo]

hiiii !! i was wondering if , when and if you have time , could you write some soft loving gentle kinda nsfw with childe/ajax ?

YES! Soft smut here you go, hope I did well on this one!💙

Constructive criticism and input welcome!

Pairing: Childe x afab reader, pronouns not mentioned.

NSFW Just vanilla! 💙

You laid up against Childe while flipping through a book you picked up from a stall in Liyue. You didn't know much about it and there was only one volume to take, so why not? It had a beautiful cover of the ocean, titled String of Pearls.

"What have you been looking at?"

Childe glanced down at the pages while twirling his finger in your hair.

"It's a play, they only had one part unfortunately but I got it anyway. A fisherman's daughter, Zixin, goes to a warf to sell her catches. Losing her pearl bracelet that I assume is very precious to her—"

You finished your explanation of what you've read and flipped the page again. Childe hummed.

"Do you want the rest?"

"Would be nice, this one is old so no telling if they are intact or not..."

"I see.'

He put his face in your hair and inhaled, wrapping his arms around your torso and pulling you against him as close as you could get.

"Can you put it down? I want to cuddle."

You huffed. You and him both know where your cuddle sessions lead up to. Every single time without fail, it's like there is no restraint when it comes to you too.

"Is it even really cuddling at this point?"

You ask with a smile, unable to really turn him down when he's like this. He nodded and moved his head down to rest in the crook of your neck leaving little kisses along the skin there.

"Let me love you, Love~"

He started placing kisses wherever he could reach— neck, shoulders, ears, cheeks, hair. Running his hands all up your thighs, sides, arms, and tummy. It had you feeling all warm and bubbly inside, laughing with the onslaught of affection. It definitely worked in his favor though since the thin book left your hands somewhere in the action.

"Ok ok, we can cuddle!"

And with that he stood up, lifting you off the couch with him and speed walking to your shared bedroom. Gently, he placed you on one side of the bed and crawled over you to get to the other side. It looked silly, and it got a little laugh out of you as he was going out of his way to not be apart for too long. He pulled you into his chest and luckily you were both already in comfortable clothing or you'd be laying here in your street clothes!

The innocent cuddling didn't really last long though. He was already slipping his hands under your shirt and up your back. His hands on your skin was comforting and you found yourself closing your eyes to just enjoy it! That also being short lived when one of his hands decided to run lower and give your ass a little squeeze.

"Ajax!"

You yelped in surprise and moved your face from his chest to look at him.

"What??? It's nice~"

He chuckled and rubbed at the curve of your lower back. You just looked at him, unimpressed.

"Aw I haven't seen you most of the day, let me touch you a little..."

His words moved into a whisper, lips coming down to trail up your neck and to your ear.

"I missed you, all I could think about was you today."

He kissed your cheek.

"I missed you too, you know? You always leave early in the day and I'm lucky if I see you again the same day."

You wrapped your arms around him and pressed your lips against his for a quick kiss.

"I know. So I'll make it up to you tonight..."

He kissed you again deeper this time and you easily allowed him to take over. He nudged you over on your back while he remained at your side, holding himself up on his elbow. Only pulling his lips away to take a breath and adjust his position before diving back in.

Your shirt was pushed up and bundled at your chest, exposing your beautiful breasts for his hand to explore on like many times before. Your skin was hot under his touch, rough hands playing around with your nipples. Rubbing, squeezing, tugging, anything to get a little reaction out of you. He found it so satisfying when your nipples hardened under his touch and made sure to give both of them equal attention.

His mouth finally left yours, leaving you both breathless while he worked his way to your neck. He didn't hesitate to start sucking, kissing, and biting the skin there and on your collar. Each tug and caress on your skin making you let out these soft, blissful breaths and moans, stirring him on more. He wanted to get your shoulders too but didn't want to undress you completely. There is something hot about having half naked sex!

When he finally pulled off of your neck, he went back to catch your lips in another heated kiss. Wouldn't be a surprise if your lips were swollen by the end of this, he just couldn't get enough of them. His hand left your chest, his warm fingers trailing down to rest on your tummy and rub slow soothing circles there.

As nice and sweet as the action was, it just made you anxious and wanting more of his touch. If he could just... just move a little further down.

As the thought came he pulled away from your lips.

"Can I touch you more?"

He asked softly and it left you speechless.

"You... You don't have to ask now, silly."

It made you laugh which had him smiling wide. He loves your laugh and your expressions.

"Haha! You can touch me all you like. You're supposed to be making it up to me, aren't you?"

"That is true~"

He chuckled at the reminder, his hand finally inching down and under the band of your loose shorts. It was so warm under that first layer, his fingers working slow circles over your clit. Your underwear kept him from touching you directly but it still coaxed a satisfied exhale and moan from you.

Not once did he look away from your face, taking in every expression and detail. The way your brows would crease, and the way lips would part to let out your lovely voice. The fluttering of your lashes. And even as you tried to not show it, the way you avoided looking at him out of embarrassment— it was obvious.

He didn't mind though, he thought you were so cute! He kissed your cheek and pulled his fingers away. They were damp from your juices soaking through the fabric of your underwear. You whined at the loss of stimulation which had him reassuring and kissing your face while he pulled your shorts down to your knees.

"Be patient, Love, I'm just taking these off."

And with that, he pushed down your underwear too. The shiny wet patch in the fabric was visible as he slid the items of clothes as far down as he could reach.

You kicked out of them the rest of the way and it wasn't long before his fingers slipped between your wet folds. Rubbing at your swelling clit directly felt way better than through clothes! Your lovely voice filled the room again and Childe soaked in every sound. Kissing your cheek, neck, and down to your breasts to take one of your hard nipples in his mouth.

You held the back of his head and your other hand gripped onto your shirt, keeping it bunched up at your chest. You could feel the all too familiar tingly sensations building up and spreading over your skin. With his pace and pressure on your clitoris, your orgasm was coming along fast. Your voice raising and words becoming just a little difficult to flow smoothly on your tongue. Your body tensing and trembeling. Much to his joy, Childe knew you were going to finish soon.

"Ahh, Ajax—!

"Go ahead, Love."

Childe lifted off your nipple for only a second, going back down to continue to stimulate your chest. His fingers never faltered their pace, letting you ride out your orgasm and slowing to a stop as you started coming down from that high.

He wanted to make you cum again— maybe on his fingers— but the hard-on in his pants was starting to make waiting unbearable. He wanted to feel you quiver and shake under him with his dick buried in your tight hole. And with his thoughts, he pushed himself up to situate himself between your legs, dragging a pillow with him to place it under your hips.

"Ready for more?"

He asked, smiling down at you with his charming smile and loving gaze. His hands ran up and down your thighs, laughing at your dazed expression. It snapped you back, and you rolled your eyes at his amusement with a huff.

"Uh-huh."

With that, he pulled his shirt up and over his head. Throwing it to the side to deal with later. He took another moment to just look at you from this view, admiring the way you looked completely on display like this. His dick was twitching to come out of his restricting clothes now and he complied, tugging down the stretchy bands of his bottoms. He would take them off completely but that would be wasting time. He just wanted to be inside of your dripping cunt, now.

He aimed the head of his cock at your entrance and glanced up to watch your expressions. You were just as eager as he was but waited patiently till he started pushing himself inside. He held onto your hips as he slowly stretched your walls, his eyes going from your face to where you both connected. He wasn't sure where exactly he wanted to look. While it was so satisfying to watch himself disappear in your tight hole, he also got satisfaction from watching your face twist in pleasure as he went deeper.

Your breathing picked up as he seated himself inside of you completely. He couldn't help himself, leaning over your frame to catch your lips in another breathtaking kiss. One hand remained on your hip, the other arm came up and propped by your head. And after a moment of stillness and passionate kisses, he started moving his hips. Grinding into you before pulling and pushing himself back in. He swallowed every sound that came out of your mouth, quickly setting a steady pace for his thrusts. They were slow and sensual, he knew all the right places to hit while he rolled his hips into yours.

Your moans and whimpers were muffled between your lips, as were his moans, groans, and other sounds you both made in the moment. You both opted to breathe out of your noses till it was starting to become too much. Pulling apart to breathe through your mouths and allow your voices to spill out through the room.

"Hah— So tight..."

Childe breathed hot air into your ear making you flinch. Everything sounded and felt so good with all of your senses being overloaded. He was so close you wrapped your arms around his neck, breathing in his scent. Feeling his breath, his skin, with his firm and gentle thrusts. Wet skin sounding against eachother with every movement. You could feel your orgasm building up again. The way your pussy would clench and quiver around his cock was an obvious indicator if you weren't so vocal and expressive. He knew you were close, and with you gripping around him like that he wasn't going to last much longer himself. His hips were starting to shake and lose their rhythm as the pleasure kept building but he was focused. Determined to have you cumming around him first.

He took his hand off of your hip and move it between you two to rub stripes on your clit with his thumb. You cried out and held onto him tighter. The added sensation sending you over the edge quickly. Childe wasn't far behind with your cunt spasming and contracting around his cock. He was cumming almost immediately after you. His hips stilling and body trembling as he painted your insides white with his release.

You were holding on for dear life with your sweet shaky breaths. Once you started to calm down your hold on him slacked and you let your arms down to rest on the bed.

He pulled out and let himself lay on top of you, and with it came his whole weight. You whined,

"You're heavy!"

and you struggled against him with little success. He laughed, shifting some of his weight off of you and wrapping his arms around you back.

"Just a minute, I'll get us cleaned up."

You huffed and just nodded, letting him do as he pleased till he was satisfied. He littered your skin with kisses once he started moving around and eventually you both got cleaned up.

Fresh pajamas were put on, and you two actually got to cuddle each other to sleep... this time.

#childe x reader #childe smut #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact smut

[spiderling-space]

Hey so this thought has been on my mind for like ages and I think that you'd be able to write a headcanon about it in a wonderful way, so I'm presenting this idea to you hehe ( I love ur blog so so so much btw!)

So let's say that whatever miracles of seven happened, that Yuu overblots. Being constantly pushed around by other students by being magicless, solving the idiot trio's problems, trying to survive overblots and dealing with Crowley's neglectful ass cheeks sure is not easy. With all the piled and bottled up negative emotions, Yuu like the previous boys, overblots. Yuu wasn't that hard to defeat cuz you know, they're magicless, but the twst boys did struggle and Yuu's quite the challenge too. So what if, after Yuu's overblot, they had a full on mental breakdown. Not like crying mental breakdown, they're full on SCREAMING, their voice are cracking too, and very painful to hear. They started to unconsciously harm themselves so they have to be tied down to prevent to hurt themselves further. How would the dormleaders react to that?

(Sorry for my English and if I ever break a rule, it's OK if you decide to not do this too. Btw I got this idea when I watch ATLA aka Aang the last airbender, for reference of the breakdown of Yuu just search "Azula's breakdown" that practically how their breakdown looked like :D)

I cant write headcanons because you basically wrote everything. I will just make comments and additions to this. first I mention the background, secondly Azula’s breakdown so non ATLA watchers can understand a little and lastly, MC having breakdown like Azula. For the record, I could write about ATLA for pages since it is something I love since 2005. LOL This became a bit meta xd

You can join the discord server here 😉🤣

Firstly, the back ground:

I was 7 years old when ATLA started airing. I’d be excited to get back home to watch ATLA after school. Azula’s breakdown was awful back then when I first watch it as a kid. And of course, when they aired the episodes again and again. I rewatched again because I remembered the show being dope when I was in 12th grade which was stress relief while studying for university exams, and then I rewatched last year and even founded a Zutara server. Now I’m getting back to the point. In the last two rewatching, I saw Azula in a different light and her breakdown at the end of the show was understandable. I can recommend some ATLA meta that you might like. 

Secondly, Azula’s breakdown: 

Azula lost everything. In the flashbacks, you saw she was getting along with Zuko, laughing and playing tag until Ozai’s influence on her grew while Ursa showed more affection towards Zuko since Ozai basically hated Zuko. These two triggered each other and it grew like snowball effect which came to the point that Ozai-Azula and Ursa-Zuko. She didn’t get love from Ozai, she was just a puppet, someone to empower him more, not his daughter meanwhile to Ursa, she was a monster. Azula was 8 years old  Ursa disappeared. Imagine how this would affect the child. After this, she had estranged brother that she was jealous of because of Ursa’s love, a father who manipulated her, and an uncle who was too in pain to do anything and he was more focused on Zuko. She only had Mai and Ty Lee as “friends” but it was toxic and Azula used fear to control them. After Zuko got banished, Mai and Ty Lee went to their own places, leaving Azula alone with Ozai. Just when Zuko got back, she was being like the last times, cruel teasing, Mai and Ty Lee with her. Later, Zuko went away and probably got lectured by Ozai for her lie. Mai and Ty Lee stood against her. In the end, she had no one. Ozai didn’t want her with him either because he only wants power. Being alone drew her to the edge. In the Royal Hair Washing, the girl sje fired had her face. Her self hatred was palpable. She started to reflect this via Ursa, the mother who thought her as monster and didn’t love her like she did Zuko. I believe she would have had breakdown if she actually killed Zuko. At the end, she couldn’t handle it anymore. Being all alone, not being loved, self hatred and finally failing at something which is something she knows Ozai would never tolerate like he did with Zuko. This 14-year-old wouldn’t be able to handle it anymore and had breakdown.

Now last section, MC having breakdown like Azula’s:

Let’s see the things MC went through:

Stripped away from home

Doesn’t have much memory of it

Is thrusted into a world so foreign to them, where everything is foreign to them. There is no familiar thing that can make them recall home or feel at home

Is forced to study things that they have no prior info where the others have prior info and they are expected to ace the tests. This puts on pressure on regular students, can’t imagine the pressure they would feel since they barely understand the magic.

Is treated like trash by everyone at least once. From the first moment they came to Twisted Wonderland, they were like dirtbag. Dire gave them a house where they could get Hepatitis A to C, tetanus, hypothermia and any other disease. They have lived in that state for months and the house barely got fixed by the end of exams. They got belittled or used by almost all characters at least once. Examples: Vil calling them nobody; Azul trying to take the only thing they have from them, the dorm; Riddle calling them uneducated because not having magical parents; Leona acting like they are a toy in E2; Jamil literally manipulating their choice; sometimes NPC characters talked; Cater making them do his work etc.

They are given more than a person should handle. They are not certificated psychologist, they aren’t superhuman, they don’t have super healing... They are just human but has to fight enemies than can easily kill them if it were not the magic users around them. They are given the task of dealing with the emotional breakdown of the other people.

All of these are building up more and more. Maybe they started to get along with people after the belittlement and being used but every new character does this. At one point, it will be too much and they will think “they are only nice to me because I did a favor to them. If not for that, they wouldn’t be nice to me” which would lead to self doubt. When one starts doubting themselves, everything else starts to go down. Also, new characters treating them that way adds salt to the wound.

MC isn’t a professional psychologist. They can’t handle other people’s issues without taking a toll at themselves. They don’t even catch a break between everything.

Dire is deliberately keeping them away from home as they all do the errands he say. To him, what MC wants doesn’t matter much. The game doesn’t show but if MC has family and friends or pets, you can’t tell me that they wouldn’t miss them once or see, hug them or know their state, alive-dead, healthy-sick etc. 

Lastly not being invincible. The end of Episode 5 shows this well. They couldn’t stand against Grim who isn’t as powerful as the other overblot characters. They are mortal who can get hurt easily.

Now all these build up meanwhile we don’t see an MC centered chapter, how they are etc. It’s all about the others. Maybe there were a few chapters asking if MC is okay after everything but it feels like it is in the second plan. 

Everything that I mentioned can lead to a breakdown like Azula’s. Everything is just too much to handle and they don’t talk with a professional about it. When they finally let out everything, it feels much better, screaming out their lungs, lashing out like all of them did. They are finally letting out all of their emotions, crying and screaming; yet still feels better than bottling everything up. They think maybe that’s how overblot characters felt.

All in all, everyone in NRC needs a counselor.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst mc #twisted wonderland mc #MC/Yuu #twisted wonderland meta #twst meta #twst yuu #twisted wonderland Yuu

[kusagrasskusa]

Michael Myers X Murderer! Reader - Headcannons - "Death Card"

Also, thank you (Wattpad Person) for requesting this :) I know your the last request I got, so I prolly should have done someone else's request first, but your's was just easiest to find. (Also, I have it bad for Michael so )

Have fun reading this! I'm writing this on my laptop instead of computer so sorry if the formatting turns out worse than usual :/

Also...someone made fun of me for putting, "eight," and, "11," in the same sentence. I guess not many people know this, but anything under ten is supposed to be written out unless their fractions or decimals.

By the way, these basically aren't headcannons lol. It's just me wanting to write out a story but not being good enough to so I just write it down in simpler terms.

Enjoy~

Not only is Y/N just another famous murder who casually takes the lives of people, but she's amazing at hiding

..........until-

Y/N was an abusive home after her parents died when she was a toddler. Her aunt and uncle neglected her but karma came back at them when their car fell off a bridge, causing the pair to drown. The downside for the young Y/N was that she was put into a foster institution. And we all know by now that foster care are full of fights, drugs, weed, alcohol, and shitty employees.

As a young girl entering such a bad place, she was always a target. You know that sense of fear, worthlessness, and loneliness fucked with her head to where she felt lashing out felt great.

She would be unable to stop herself as she plunged a sharp object in and out of this prick that held her down for so long. But once she heard voices from other kids, she ran.

The story made headlines as the next big attack from yet another child. That's right, next. There was someone who inspired her to do what she did.

Of course, she always had that memory in the back of her head. That boy's violent actions filled her with immeasurable awe when she saw the news. However, she always had something more important to think about.

With so much dissatisfaction with her past, she could only fill herself up with adding things on to her in the present, and more in the future.

Y/N would steal Poker cards from people and always use the Ace of Spades to mark her kills by sliding the card into a wound. After all, betting games were the highlight of her day in the foster institution. She was always so good at it that it became her pride.

All these headlines and stories about how evil she is became such a big deal in her head. Such an overwhelming feeling of adrenaline every time she heard the name people would call her.

"The Death Card," is another name for Ace of Spades in most English countries. It was the perfect fit for Y/N.

(Ya'll, I feel like a fucking genius for coming up with that lol)

She was so good at hiding, truly. Kill someone in Kentucky, then move to Missouri. Killing someone there and move to Georgia, and so on.

Only in her hometown was she caught.

Michael was the one who started it all for her, as their same age and hometown made her feel connected to him, and finally where he got caught would be the same place she did.

14 years of hiding and killing led her to meeting him

Michael spent these 14 years sitting in complete silence. No talking, no humming, no singing, nothing. It's like he was always in his own world of thought, too busy in his imagination to interact with the real world.

Of course, there was times when he did pay attention to what's around him.

The news was the only thing he'd really pay close attention to. After all, what if something happens to Haddonfield while's he's stuck in there, and that causes plenty of people he once knew to move away?

But per usual, there was nothing about it

But there was something that caught his attention even by a little

"After 14 years, the notorious Death Card or Card of Death has finally been caught," says the Haddonfield Police Department. "While we're unsure of her motives thus far, we have been able to learn of who she is. Y/N L/N made the headlines once in 1980 at the age of eight as one of America's biggest crime cases with children as the culprit, having brutally stabbed a 15 year old boy. This happened just two years after the Michael Myers case, when a six year old boy stabbed his older sister in 1978. All else the HPD are saying is that her frantic behavior may lead her to a mental institution rather than letting her make legal decisions in court."

Michael paid attention to all the details of the report. For this report to be made about Haddonfield, chances are they'll be meeting each other soon.

The Death Card was a violent killer Michael heard of plenty of times however he never paid close attention to.

(Holy shit these are just headcannons so why am I writing long paragraphs)

He had to say, hearing about her violent stabbings were the highlight of his week. Even if he never felt strong about hearing other people having fun with their lives like she was, he couldn't help but almost feel pushed to do what she is. Living freely and ending those who cross his path...

Saying he was jealous or inspired would be a stretch though

He would spend his days painting paper mache masks while thinking of doing what she was for sure but he hated how she would show off by using those cards as if she didn't have a goal in mind, which was annoying to him. If you have nothing to live for, then kill yourself was his mindset.

Michael watched as Y/N stepped into court. He know hundreds- no thousands- of people watched as this woman of pure evil stepped into the courtroom. Her H/C hair flowed as she walked passed everyone, glaring at them with her cold E/C eyes.

A look of slight intrigue replaced his normal dull expression as he watched the girl stand up before the judge, smiling sassily at the cameras as to tell them to fuck off. Michael can recognize that look of intrusion on her face as she was practically interrogated. Clearly, she hated it there.

He watched contently as all the mystery surrounding the Card of Death was revealed to everyone in this world. Days went by of this court case before finally, she pled insanity. After all, she was known to have some underlying mental conditions as she remained so calm when talking about the varies of ways she would kill.

It's easy to see that many felt bad for the girl. Such trauma growing up led to the creation of this unfortunate human. But Michael? He didn't feel bad at all.

He never was sad or truly sympathetic however...he did feel pity. Somewhere in his soulless eyes held pity for this sad, sad girl he was soon to meet. Not exactly sympathy, but simply pity. And with that came respect.

The day that Y/N stepped foot into those doors was the day the two would meet for the very first times. Over 63 counts of first degree murder in 14 years led to the meeting of these two serial killers. At the time, they were both only 20.

Tables were scattered across the room with people talking or simply sitting alone by themselves on them. There was TV in a few different places around the room and board games in a couple of shelves. In the back of the large room was windows that showed the outside that felt so out of reach forever.

As the metal doors slammed behind her, she felt eyes on her immediately. Y/N slowly scanned the room as she gulped back the intense fear gathering in her stomach. Her lips parted open as she began to breath heavily and press her back on those metal doors.

She was so trapped and scared when she first entered that foster institution. She couldn't help but think of karma when her aunt would hurt her so badly for those five years before she died. But 63 murders are so much worse, so what could karma do to her to balance her evil deeds with punishment?

Laughter and giggled filled her ears as she shut her eyes tightly and covered her face with her arms. Her vision was going blurry; she was having a panic attack. Tears fell from her eyes as she whimpered quietly to herself.

She may be the Card of Death however she never had to be in a large group of people in so long.

Her body jerked as she was suddenly pulled away from those metal doors. She cried out when she saw a large man, around 6'7 (204cm), pull her away.

In just a few seconds, she was pulled to a metal table and forced to sit as the large man stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders.

Her body tensed unimaginably as they remained still for a few seconds, quiet aside from the occasional sobs of Y/N.

Then suddenly, the pressure on her shoulders disappeared. She heard nothing until the sound of creaking from the seat in front of her interrupted.

Y/N felt eyes on her. They were so intense over her.

A minute passed before her own eyes fluttered open, meeting the man's eyes in front of her.

A shiver ran down her spine when she came face to face with stone cold blue eyes that seemed to hold nothing within them. No light, no soul, and no sympathy. Not only that, but a orange mask made of paper mache covered the rest of his face as well.

The man tilted his head before lifting his hand onto the table, sliding something over to her. Y/N looked down at what he gave her.

"Don't speak. Write."

Michael had given her a paper with these words. His handwriting was hard to read considering he nearly never wrote anything so it took a moment before Y/N got the message. When she did, she looked back up at the man and nodded just a little so it was barely recognizable.

Obviously this conversation was to be secretive so she knew to barely show signs of interactions. The camera couldn't pick up on such a small nod to what evidence is there of them even interacting?

Michael slid the paper back to him and brought a pencil to the paper after erasing the original text. When he slid it back to her, it read, "Don't let anyone know what we say Y/N. They watch everything." When Y/N looked back up at him, she saw him dart his eyes from something behind her to something on the wall between them. She turned her head slightly to the side, noticing a camera on the wall. So she understood.

Michael had dropped on the pencil on the table, meaning it was her turn to reply. She erased the previous text before writing down, "Who are you? How do you know me?" When she slid it back, Michael took the pencil in his hand again.

"Michael Myers. I was a well known case two years before you. We heard a lot about you on TV."

"As in the boy who killed his sister at the age of six?"

"Yes. You know me?"

Y/N's eyes widened slightly as she frantically wrote down a reply. Without even noticing, the knot in her stomach had completely disappeared without a trace.

"I remember seeing your case. I thought about everyday."

Michael didn't reply immediately after reading. Instead, he waited a few minutes and stared down at the table. A look of confusion remained on Y/N's features as she impatiently waited. Then suddenly, Michael erased what was on the paper and simply drew a masked person looking somewhat like himself with a knife in his hand. He drew dead stick figures around it with blood splattering everywhere.

Michael knew that this picture would cover up all the eraser marks and writings that were still slightly visible. So when the guard that walked up behind Y/N without her knowing popped up, he didn't see any text.

Of course, this did lead to the paper being taken away. Then minutes after that, both of the pair was taken away.

If there's one thing as scary as analyzing The Shape and caring for him, it's that person who cares and analyzes him finding him interacting with someone else for the first time.

Whenever Y/N got sat down in her cell, she knew what was about to happen. She was sat down in her bed as a man she'd never seen before sat down in the chair that came with her little desk in her cell with a guard next to him.

Have you ever spoken to Michael? Are you related to him? How do you know him? How does he know you? Have you ever met his family? Why did he interact to you? Why was he drawing things for you? Does he like you? Does he hate you? Did he write to you? Did you hear him talk?

So many questions were asked by this Dr Loomis in such short amount of time. "No, no, I don't, no, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, no, no," and mostly these were your responses. No matter how many times Loomis asked, you dully replied.

You simply said he sat you down and you began to draw together, both filling in a piece of the drawing together.

And eventually, you got out.

Another day went by of "talking" to Michael.

And another.

And another.

The talks were nice and casual. What goes on in the asylum? What goes on in the outside? Who should I avoid? What's the reputation of the HPD?

Do you want to escape?

But it was only a matter of time before finally the two were friends.

Y/N was kinda just in her cell one night in bed. Then she just gasped and widened her eyes. Wait, are we friends? We're friends, right!

Michael already knew of their friendship like two weeks before she did. It felt so...wrong for him. He had always been alone and silent. How could someone like her even be so likeable to him? He didn't really understand it but he knew he hated it.

One day, the two were writing to each other per usual. Michael unintentionally added a pun in one of his comments, causing Y/N to giggle. Michael cocked his head to the side in confusion, strangely feeling heat rise his face and his heart speed up. It was air conditioned so he suspected he may have gotten sick.

Whenever the two had to go back to their cells, that feeling suddenly disappeared. Then it hit him. Oh fuck-

Hell, only a week later did Y/N feel herself experiencing the same symptoms. Michael notices that Y/N would shake and fidget a lot when they interacted, making him wonder of she was cold. As a friend, it was only right for him to sit next to her and hold her close to keep her warm, right? Y/N's face went red and damn that was embarrassing. But of course, that didn't mean Y/N wouldn't hug him back.

Eventually the two were basically cuddling. The two hugging each other warmly as Y/N rested her head on his chest, struggling to stay awake as they got more comfortable by the second.

But of course, Dr Loomis caught eye of that.

The doctor had been looking deep into al the interactions these two evil beings have had. They act so casual, so normal with each other, surely more than just drawing is happening between them, right?

The doctor had pulled them into his office separately to interrogate them. While Y/N bluntly answered his questions to make him just shut up as quickly as possible, she couldn't help but think to herself. She knows that she and Michael are mentally ill, but he should definitely be fixed by now. He's smart and creative and can casually talk to people, so it's like the only thing keeping him here is that the doctors are so ill-equipped that they can't make the necessary breakthrough to save him.

Of course, just a month later, another incident happened like this. Y/N was having a bad migraine so Michael got her to just sit down and wait for him during lunch. He brought over two trays of food for them and was sure to trade with Y/N so she can eat the things she likes and he could have the things she dislikes.

Another time, a bipolar guy ran into Michael and shoved him as if it was his fault. Michael shoved him back instinctively, causing a fight to disperse between the two. As security guards took notice, Y/N was quick to push Michael away softly and ball a fist to punch the fuck out of that guy- like a, "YO WHATCHU SAY ABOUT MY MAN?" type shit. Y/N did this to seem like she was hitting back and that Michael hadn't done anything wrong.

And when each other's birthday's rolled around, they had their own celebration. Y/N was given her own paper mache mask as a gift and a small cupcake from the cafe. Michael was given stolen art supplies that were taken from other guests and also a cupcake.

Y/N slowly stopped having panic attacks, but she definitely had her moments. Of course, Michael sat with her through it.

Dr Loomis recorded all this shit so he can gather data on Michael. Then the question hit him: How would Michael react if Y/N was gone for a few days? Does he truly care about her or is he just using her?

If you think Michael hated Loomis before, wait til he pieced together the disappearance of girlfriend and the extensive eyesight on him from security guards. For the hell he raised about it, he had to get sterilized and put into a cell without being able to get out for a few days.

Y/N remained bored in her cell for days. So what better could she do than annoy the guard watching her? She would just talk nonstop for what felt like hours and hours. The dude watching her was just getting more pissed off by the second.

"Would you shut up? Crazy bitch," he hissed, hitting the cell door. Y/N giggled cockily, shaking her head. Even if she deserved to be yelled at for continuing to talk, the Card of Death refused to back down. But when the guard went inside her cell and locked the door behind him, she got a bit worried.

Y/N got off her bed and threatened him cockily, to which he responded with physical force.

Of course, Smith's Groove is ill-equipped so even with proof of being hit and tazed, Y/N couldn't do anything to get the guard fired. But Michael?

A full month without seeing each other was like a slow suicide. But when they finally got to see each other again, the two was sure to write so much about their time alone as if they were teenage friends discussing their fun weekends. However, things turned dark whenever Y/N brought up the guard.

Michael didn't show any emotions at all, no matter what happens. But Y/N learned to guess how he's feeling depending on how long he takes to respond. Slowed blinking as if he was in thought, and slower reading as got analyze her writing closer were typically bad signs.

About a year had passed since they met at this time. A year to plan to escape. By now, the two were both 21 and fully prepared to leave once and for all.

Whenever that security guard had walked passed Michael's cell one night, Michael had knocked on the door to signal him. Michael slipped a paper through the doorslot, as he was given paper since he doesn't talk, saying he found a dead mouse in his cell. The guard just huffed and let himself inside. Michael pointed to where the mouse supposedly was; and that was a mistake for the guard.

Right as that guard went to look, Michael got behind and covered his mouth before stabbing him in the neck with a paint brush that's but carved into a small blade. Within moments, the guard dropped dead onto the floor.

Taking the keys from the guard, Michael was able to let out nearly every single prisoner to this hell out of their cells. Including Y/N.

The world sister was the only thing left of the pair as it was engraved into the door of Michael's cell. And just like that, the two were gone.

How they got there so fast doesn't matter but eventually Y/N and Michael found an abandoned house to station at until the search around the area disappeared and they could move around quicker.

"I can't fucking believe it," Y/N cheered as she felt tears run down her face from happiness. She swayed across the room, taking in the smell of dust and air. Even something dirty felt so new to her that couldn't help but love it at the moment.

Michael would watch her as he sat down in an old wooden chair, cocking his head. His body was in complete shock as the realization of all that's happened in the past years came crashing down on him. This was the real world? This is what dust smells like? This is what shattered glass and broken wood looks like? This is what trees look like up close? This is what things look like without glass tinting the color?

This is what it feels like to celebrate with someone you love? Michael reminded himself that the girl in front of him changed his life so much. His urge to harm all around him was always so strong, but the thought of her being hurt felt a bad taste in his mouth.

He stood up from the chair, walking towards the ecstatic girl as she cried happily to herself and picked up random things to remind herself of what they feel like and all she takes for granted. She turned her head to him, smiling, "Michael, look, I found a-"

Y/N gasped as Michael gripped his mask and slowly moved it. Y/N watched in awe as for the first time, she saw her only friend in this world's real face. That pale skin and soulless eyes that she grew familiar with became so new to her again.

"Michael..." she whispered, stepping closer to him. Her face heated up as she felt the weight his eyes staring down at her. She lightly bit her lip, a shiver going down her spine.

He took a few steps closer as well, making the two remain inches away from each other. Now at this point, Y/N is questioning if Michael is gonna kill her or is gonna kiss her as he awkwardly put his hand to her cheek, brushing her hair away. She leaned her head into his hand, keeping eye contact with him the whole time.

In just a matter of moments, the two came together in a soft kiss. The moment was quiet as the two did their best to remain calm and together as this moment that was little way's overdue continued.

When the two pulled away, Y/N was quick to wrap her arms around him. Now she wasn't going to cry about it, but damn was that contact she needed so badly. The Death Card and The Shape were basically Yin and Yang with how one is emotional and the other in emotionless but their need for pain and each other is what kept it healthy.

Just imagine how much suffering families went through since the two got out.

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