#IT TOOK ME FOREVER TO COME UP WITH A CONCEPT I LIKED

[adhdo5]

FINALLY I HAVE SOMETHING I FEEL GOOD POSTING to fill @owltaills' Nielan g4g prompt for @nielan-action !! Thank u for donating yayyy I hope you like this any

[crossbackpoke-check]

Fixed point (mathematics) // The History of Perspective // "Point of Disappearance", Dennis Held // How the Hughes hockey family stays grounded // Fixed Point Photography-- // "Portrait of A.", Tung-Hui Hu // Mic'd Up | Hughes NHL 25 cover shoot // "Burnt Norton", T.S. Eliot // "Circuitry", Janine Joseph // Bruce Bennett // Nick Wass // from obedience [maybe one day, during a point in time], kari edwards // Bill Rapai // "Errand Upon Which We Came", Stephanie Strickland // Benchmark (surveying)

art kid luke hughes

[five-rivers]

Little thing inspired by various Justice League summons Danny posts I've seen about.

.

Interdimensional travel was hard.

It was a true statement, and one that, in retrospect, was obvious. Of course interdimensional travel was hard. It was reaching out of your reality and into one that had an entirely different set of rules. However, having an interdimensional portal in one's basement tended to skew one's understanding of these things. That was why it took Danny so long to realize that the Observants were actually worried about him.

"Wait," he said, looking up from the (admittedly very passive-aggressive) report the crowd of Observants had just dropped on his (already crowded) desk. "You want to change my summoning ritual because you think other dimensions might hurt my human half?"

"Some of them certainly will," said one of the Observants, testily.

"I didn't know you cared about that," said Danny, still somewhat stunned.

"We normally wouldn't," admitted the Observant, "but although the position of Ghost King is, politically, a figurehead, you are metaphysically vital to the Realms as a whole. Damage to you is to be avoided, when possible."

"Uh huh," said Danny, looking back down at the summoning ritual change paperwork. Although, through a combination of Danny's own nature and the nature of time across dimensional barriers, Danny still looked fourteen and spent a great deal of his time going to school in Amity Park, he had years of experience interpreting the Observants' paperwork under his belt. "Yeah, it's just that I don't think this is the best way to, like. Do that."

"It is the best way to protect you!" said the Observant who had, apparently, been selected as the group's spokesperson.

"Maybe," agreed Danny, who wasn't entirely sure that was true. "But I feel like some of these modifications would kind of be a problem for wherever I wound up."

"Then they ought not to summon you."

While Danny agreed with that sentiment in spirit (getting summoned was almost always inconvenient and annoying), in practice, he wasn't so sure. "I don't think there's any way to communicate that to the guys who are summoning me. Like, some of them get me with old Pariah Dark rituals. And most of them don't really care if their mistakes screw over other people, so..."

"Next to the well-being of the Realms, that is a minor concern."

Danny didn't disagree with that, but he wasn't about to waste time arguing with the Observants about it. They just didn't get it. He tapped his finger on another section that was bothering him. "Also, this seems to keep me from getting out of the summoning circle at all. If someone is summoning me to ask for help, that's going to keep me from doing much."

"It will also keep you from inadvertently exiting into a hostile environment."

"Even in my home universe?" asked Danny, pointedly. "This seems like something more geared to imprisonment than protection."

The Observants were silent.

"Oh, come on, guys, really? Again?"

The Observants scattered.

Danny sighed and picked up the paperwork. He didn't think it was all bad ideas, honestly, but he needed a second opinion that hadn't tried to stuff him in the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep Mark 2.

Maybe Clockwork would look it over for him.

.

"It isn't an entirely terrible concept," said Clockwork, "except for the obvious drawbacks."

"The whole being trapped in the summoning circle bit," said Danny.

Clockwork nodded. "To be fairer than they deserve, there is no way to modify that portion of a summoning ritual in some types of universes but not others. Not from our own side of things, in any case."

"And I mostly can't get at the other side," said Danny with a groan. He perched on the back of Clockwork's chair. "I do want to make sure that I, I don't know, fit with other universes enough that I won't completely demolish them just by existing."

Clockwork hummed. "There are some ways to do that. There are drawbacks, however."

"Bigger drawbacks than accidentally nuking a planet because my radiation is different than theirs?"

"It depends on your perspective, I suppose."

Danny sighed. "Go ahead and tell me, then."

Clockwork picked up a pen. "You are a shapeshifter. You have multiple forms, one of which cannot be harmed through any normal means and which similarly would have little negative affect on the environment unless you acted to cause negative effects. Change the current ritual so that a summoning puts you in that form, and then further change it so that you cannot leave the circle unless you are in a form that will not automatically cause harm or be harmed by the laws of that universe."

"You mean my Ghost King form."

"All your forms are your Ghost King form."

"You know what I mean."

"I do," said Clockwork, smiling.

"It freaks people out, though."

"Your current form might, as you say, freak people out," said Clockwork. "If your summoners were, say, ants."

"Is that likely?"

"Not particularly. But consider the multiverse. Not all of your summoners will be human."

Danny crossed his arms, frustrated that there wasn't an easy solution. "I guess I could always shapeshift into something nonthreatening after. Hard to see if it's something safe without running into

"You can do more than that."

"I can?"

"Yes," said Clockwork, setting the pen to paper. "Let me show you."

.

The summoning circle shimmered and shivered as Constantine and Zatanna recited the chant, their voices rising and falling. Batman and other members of the League stood by, watching, waiting.

This, this ritual, wasn't their first choice. It wasn't their second, third, or fourth choice, either. But nothing else they had tried worked, and the entire world was at stake.

They were summoning the King of All Ghosts. An eldritch monstrosity that had once tried to conquer all realities. But the alternative was worse. Much worst. At least, with the King of All Ghosts, there was a chance that they could negotiate and that it'd want the Earth more or less intact for the sake of conquering it. At least, with this kind of summoning, they could offer a sacrifice, a bargain, a deal.

And if Constantine was good at anything, it was deals.

The lines of the summoning circle flared green, then pure white, and, without any other fanfare, the King of All Ghosts was there.

It filled the circle with starry darkness, struck with nebulae and aurorae. The clouds rippled as a star died near its heart, fiery cataclysms spreading throughout the being. A crown like the accretion disk of a black hole burned around its highest extremity.

Something like a voice, echoing and many-layered, emanated from the being. "Nghftùsh phlarûm âzgûm (1)." It paused, and the League felt it examine the area more closely. "Ko wgâ âzgûm nghftùsh derza. Ko gok hubhûfh fhtù gâh mglwnuh...(2)"

Constantine swore. "Oh, bollocks, I don't know that one. Would it be too much to ask that one of these things speak English? Just a little?"

"Nghftùsh ak. Ko ngngi. (3)"

"Zatanna," said Batman, "could a spell let us understand one another?"

"Kù-nghînku bùr fùmúu umni snîgûrip. (4)" It seemed to bend closer for all that it didn't move. "Nghftùsh laglúfhâk krîk ko phlî ak phlorza. Chthe nî hîhnâ, ka. (5)"

"I think I understand a little," said Captain Marvel, raising a hand. "I think it understands us just fine."

"Hagthu. Nghftùsh ngngi ùk nî chthe kûmpù nû gâ. (6)"

"It wants to get out of the circle," said Captain Marvel.

The veils of green light that shrouded the being rippled. "Dal phlù. (7)"

"Not without an agreement in place, you're not," said Constantine.

"Gagthashîzgathg. (8)"

"God," whispered Flash, "that hurts my throat just hearing it."

Batman shot him a glare, then stepped forward. They'd prepared a list of demands. Most of them were negotiable, but it was better to start something like this with things you were willing to remove or throw away. It took several minutes for Batman to read the whole thing.

"Ku. Chthal lohúfhâk hagthu. Fhta nghftùsh kâk phlorza ko thru. (9)"

"What did it say?" asked Batman.

"I'm... I think it said it'll do it, but it needs something from us in return."

Batman nodded. They'd expected something like this. Whatever it asked for, it would, without a doubt, be exorbitant. Then, they'd go back and forth, reducing each of their demands until they'd reached a deal both sides hated, but could accept. Constantine had bet that, at minimum, the King of All Ghosts would want the entire population of Earth as slaves.

"Nghftùsh kâk hû ko mglwno nî phnglâ gho-lobi. (10)"

"Uh," said Captain Marvel. "I think he said one of our lives."

"Hik! Rlo phlarâk kruk nîk ghû. (11)"

"Not just any of us," said Marvel. "It has to be someone who's a parent."

A tension fell over the room. They'd known they'd have to sacrifice something. A single life wasn't much, but for the King of All Ghosts to specify a parent...

"But are you sure it's just one?" pressed Constantine.

The King of All Ghosts gave off a sense of... exasperation? "Úzg, hû. (12)"

"One," said Captain Marvel. "Just one."

"And just us, not our kids or anything?"

"Nghftùsh ngngi ùk e nghuu. Gù phlarâk fush ko du? (13)"

"No, it doesn't want children. They're... wrong, somehow?"

"And it's not a sex thing?" Constantine sounded... strangely hopeful.

"Hik! Fhtùl! (14)"

"No," said Captain Marvel. "And... something about fat, maybe?"

"Oh, we're definitely getting eaten, then," said Constantine, with forced cheer. "I volunteer, then. It's not like my kids are sitting up waiting for me or anything."

"Hik nuk. Ngngi ko. E hâta phlarâk lerzaolûm. (15)"

"Not you, there's... something wrong with your soul."

"Oh, he's a picky eater, too, huh?"

"Let's not antagonize him, okay?" said Flash. "He's kind of-- He's kind of looming, right now."

And so it was. Somehow. Without moving.

"Who will... satisfy you?" asked Batman.

The entity did not move, but it managed to indicate Batman anyway.

"Very well," said Batman, before anyone could even attempt to talk him out of it. After all, his life for the lives of everyone in this universe was a very good deal. "Take me."

For the first time, the King of All Ghosts moved, all that darkness, all that light, rushing towards Batman.

There was a burst of blinding light.

When everyone opened their eyes again, a boy with black hair, blue eyes, and a jawline that bore more than a passing resemblance to Batman's was stepping out of the summoning circle.

"That's much better," he said, stretching. "No offense, dude, but you kind of suck at Ghost Speak." He turned to Batman. "What I was asking for was a template so I could exist in your universe and do what you want without accidentally blowing it up because of incompatible physics, but whatever. Not sure how you guys got me eating you out of that."

"You wanted a human appearance so you could better conquer this world?" asked Batman.

"Uh, no? You've got a pretty strong clause against conquering the world in your paperwork there. You're probably thinking about Pariah Dark, but he's old news." The boy smiled widely. "Let's get started on your problem, okay?"

I've been summoned.

You haven't summoned me before. You have a nice space station here...

I can. You can't.

Inter-dimensional language differences are so annoying.

I hope you can do something. This will be difficult, otherwise.

Good. I don't want to be in this circle forever.

Close enough.

Figures (literally, 'certainly').

Okay. That sounds good. But I need something from you.

I need one of you to be my template (literally, life-pattern).

No! It's like being a parent.

Yes, one.

I don't want your children. What is wrong with you?

No! Gross!

No way. Not you. You're crazy (literally, your soul is cracked).

[chanranghaeys]

🎼 complementary wavelengths

Wouldn’t falling in love with your research partner compromise the integrity of the research study? You had no idea. But if that were the case, then you were in for some major trouble.

pairing: university professor!vernon x high school teacher!fem!reader word count: 2.8k+ genre: fluff for valentine’s day! rating: g tags: non-idol au, distant college friends to ???, first love :(, they both grew up!, we stan emotionally healthy MEN in here warnings: i claim no accuracy on the academic process because i am not a teacher and no accuracy on the mathematics and scientific concepts here because i am absolutely not a mathematician or a scientist

a/n: surprise lexi @heechwe, i’m your secret cupid! a huge thanks to jupiter @ddeonghwa-s for hosting this secret cupid valentine’s event! it took A WHILE for me to churn this out but we persist and bounce back to writing! a very very special thanks to kae @ylangelegy for beta reading! and to @svtreverie, @choitcherryanne, and k for being my forever hypegirls mwa mwa

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“So, Ms. Y/L/N, do you have a Valentine's date already?”

You roll your eyes for what must be the millionth time. “For the last time, this is grounds for unbecoming conduct, young lady.”

“I’m just saying!” Your student Sofia laughs. “You deserve to have a good Valentine’s Day this year.”

“Since when have you played matchmaker for me, Ms. Chwe?”

“Since we saw you crying in the school parking lot,” Sofia’s best friend Meena chimed in supportively. Come on, Ms. Y/L/N. You can’t expect us to sit around and do nothing.”

“Especially not for our favorite Maths teacher!”

You shake your head at these two high schoolers. You knew you couldn’t play favorites amongst your students, but these two and their stubbornly infectious energy sparked a little of your youth back in you. Plus, you really couldn’t blame them because they were right about that school parking lot incident.

It was after this brunch date went terribly wrong a few weeks ago. And while it was very unbecoming of a teacher for her students to find her squat and sobbing against her car, these two were like guardian angels that took you under their wings and brought you ice cream and were girl’s girls all the way—as if they weren’t almost a whole decade younger than you.

Since then, Sofia and Meena would secretly try to find you a potential Valentine’s date amongst teachers, guardians, single parents, older siblings, school staff, or anyone at this point. They were wholly invested—and not just because you were the best teacher they’ve ever had in their very subjective opinion.

From afar, you see a familiar figure leaning against his car, signature plain white tee with jeans underneath his selected outerwear of the day—this time, it was a black denim jacket with a matching Yankees cap.

You've noticed him for a while now, dropping by a few days a week. You've thought about approaching him several times as well, but you always stopped this impulse. However, today was different.

“Sofia, would you mind calling over your brother here for a second?”

“What is this about?” Sofia had her eyebrow raised. Despite her age, it was hard not to take her seriously given that you were both standing at the same height.

“You know what this is about. He told me that you gave him my email address.”

A look of understanding lit in Sofia’s eyes. “Ah, that thing. Yeah, gimme a second.”

Meena stayed behind to continue the line of questioning. “So what’s that thing?”

“It’s a post-grad thing of sorts. Don’t mind it, you have enough schoolwork on your head to be thinking about this.”

She just chuckled in return. “Ms. Y/L/N, may I remind you that Sofia’s brother is single, handsome, respectful, decent, and smart. You can see why I personally have a vested interest in this thing already.”

“Meena.”

She heard your tone shift and straightened herself. It was a subtle reminder that she was still your student and that you were still her teacher.

“I’m just stating facts,” she said with a shrug and a quieter tone.

Sofia’s distant voice calling out for her friend caught both of your attention. At the same time, you see the figure in black and white walking toward you in his confident and deliberate strides.

“I’ll go ahead Ms. Y/L/N. See you tomorrow! And good luck on the thing,” Meena said with a smile and a wave. When she passes the figure, she does a slight bow out of respect, which he reciprocates. This exchange quirks up the corner of your lips. You recall what Meena said earlier, and it prods at you with an irk of frustration.

It frustrates you that she’s right.

When he finally stood before you with a smile, a flood of memories came crashing back. Suddenly, you’re back on your college campus standing underneath your favorite tree, a girl in front of a boy.

“I got your email, Professor Chwe. It’s been a while.”

“It has been a while Ms. Y/L/N.”

You chuckle at your monikers. Who knew two scruffy college students would turn out to be respectful academicians? “Formalities aside, it’s so nice to hear from you again Vernon.”

“Likewise.”

“I see the teaching gig in university hasn’t changed your sense of casual style.”

Vernon looks you up and down in your sensible collared button-up and slacks ensemble. You completely ignore the growing flutters in your stomach. “I can see that this high school has changed yours.”

“Well, you gotta do what you gotta do. The kids actually like my sense of style, mind you.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed Sofia starting to wear blazers all of a sudden. I never thought that it’d be you I’d blame for that.”

You feel something in your chest, a sudden churn and an unexpected leap. As a teacher, you’ve mastered your emotions enough to mask your face into one that wouldn’t give everything away. But these primal emotions were almost too much to bear.

Is this what it really feels like to face your first love after so many years apart?

“Anyway,” you continue as a means to deflect before anything else gives away your true feelings. “You emailed me about your dissertation? You really didn’t give much away. And you know you could’ve just sent me a message.”

“Oh, yeah!” Vernon nods vigorously in emphasis of your statement. “I need someone good in applied mathematics.”

“And you need me for that because?”

He blinks at you. “Because you are good at applied mathematics. I want your help for my musicology dissertation.”

You let out a sigh of disbelief. “Vernon, I—”

“And don’t you dare say you’re not good,” he insists with his finger pointed at you. “I’ve read your research papers. I don’t even know why you stay teaching in high school. You could’ve been tenured by now. Or on a sabbatical like me.”

He’s read my research papers? So he’s been following my work? You shake your head to clear these unnecessary thoughts, which are immediately replaced by a sense of uncertainty. “I don’t know, I’m pretty busy these coming months…”

You really didn’t know why you were avoiding it. This was the perfect academic opportunity and you had no idea why you were avoiding it.

Okay, scratch that. You knew exactly why—because of him.

“No problem, we’ll be able to pace the progress. Besides,” he continued, “you’ve always been my study buddy. I know we’ll be really good partners for this one.”

With one sentence, he has almost reduced you to a blushing schoolgirl with a huge crush.

Oh wait, weren’t you one already?

But still, you couldn’t resist stoking the flame that had been sparked inside you. So you ask, “Why me? Were there no other worthy research partners in your esteemed university?”

“Nope. I choose you,” he answered with a lopsided smirk. “I think you’ll understand why when you hear what my dissertation is about.”

“What is it about?”

“Do you wanna go out for coffee?”

“What?”

“What?” Vernon said in more of a statement than a question.

“What does coffee have anything to do with this?”

“Unless you want to keep standing here with your students watching us, I think it’s better if we continue this discussion somewhere else.”

You peer over his shoulder to see Sofia and Meena watching the two of you from the car like hawks, ready to catch any significant interaction that might give away what you two were talking about. When you met their line of sight, they were ready to bring their phones up to feign their disinterest.

“There’s a cafe on the next street over. If you’d like to go there…”

“Nice,” he said cooly, his voice low and sure.

He lifted his phone to his ear. From your peripheral vision, you see his sister raise her own phone in response. It was almost comical how you could see their silent reactions from across the courtyard, with Meena vibrating with excitement and slapping the other girl’s arm as you hear Sofia’s voice trying to sound calm through the speaker of Vernon’s phone. You see them hurriedly lowering the car window and lifting their thumbs up toward your direction.

They seem to think they have finally succeeded. You wouldn’t give them that benefit yet.

When he hung up, Vernon addressed your confused look. “Sofia’s been annoying me about getting the car anyway, so they can have it. Let’s walk?”

It was silent at first. The early afternoon sun cooperated with the cool breeze, setting the atmosphere for a nice leisurely walk. Students and office workers were milling around the nearby commercial strip, with the sounds and conversations all mingling in the background.

It had been years since you last spent time together like this, in an environment not too different from this one. After your study sessions in the library, you two walked together to your shared classes, which by some stroke of luck always seemed to happen for at least one class every semester until you graduated.

You both hung in different circles. He hung around with his fellow music majors in band practices and the college’s musicians organization, while you spent the majority of your time with your mathematics batchmates in the library or the school quad, catching up on problem sets and homework before you needed to make it to your choir’s rehearsals at night.

But when you ended up as seatmates in your first semester, you made a comment on the Bach piece he was listening to, how Bach was actually a pretty mathematical composer. He asked you how you knew that.

You said, “I take mathematics. I needed a cool fun fact for introductions.”

From that moment on, Vernon took it upon himself to make you appreciate how mathematical Bach’s pieces were. Music became your common language amongst everything else in the background, and the rest was history.

“Okay,” you began, “You know that we haven’t really spoken to each other since graduation. So…why choose me? Not that I’m complaining, though! I’m just…shocked, I guess. And confused. Because if you’ve read my research, you’d know that it’s been years since I published anything.”

Throughout your rambling, Vernon simply looked at you. When you finally stop, you notice the clear brown of them looking straight into you. It had been years, but they were the same eyes that looked at you, that listened intently when you were explaining a complex math concept.

It had been years, but that almost unblinking gaze of his still made your heart do unexplainable leaps in your chest.

You broke away from the intensity of his gaze. He took this as a cue to answer your question. “I was looking for research papers to help me form my framework. Then I stumbled on your computations of metered wavelengths and frequencies, and their relation to different kinds of sound.”

That paper. “Oh.”

His lips turned up in the corners when he continued. “I suddenly remembered how we randomly theorized this during one of our study sessions. I couldn’t believe you actually turned it into your master's thesis.”

“You still remember that?”

“Of course. I never thought I’d find someone so in tune with me and my random theories.”

“If you’ve read the paper, you’ll know that it wasn’t a random theory at all. You might just have discovered the makings of a postulate as a college sophomore.”

“It wouldn’t have been possible without your mind making sense of it. You really are the brightest of your batch.”

You scoff at the remark. “We’re not in college anymore, Vernon. There are a lot of other bright minds out there.”

“None quite like yours, I’m sure.”

You reach the cafe and order in—a decaf iced americano for you, and a hot chocolate for him. As soon as you two get seated, he finally launches into an animated discussion of his dissertation topic about discovering the medical applications of using the various sound wavelengths from certain types and compositions of music to aid in both the operation and healing process of a person, with the goal of identifying a singular formula to determine the right wavelength for each medical situation. He had his medical experts, all he needed was his mathematician.

It was a lot to digest, to say the least.

But by the end of it all, you were in awe of both Vernon and his mind. He is smart. He’d always been smart, but it felt like the confines of university and immaturity bounded his full potential. Now that he’s seen and explored the world of academia, he was able to finally showcase how bright of a mind he really is.

“Can I tell you something?” You set down your coffee and leaned forward.

As if second nature, he mirrored your action to the tee. “Shoot.”

“I’m proud of you. Really. You used to be this mysteriously awkward guy in college who just played around with guitars and 808s. But I always knew you’d put that big brain of yours to good use.”

He opens his mouth as if in reply, but stops midway and just smiles and scrunches his nose. After a beat, he nods with a look of quiet decision. “Can I tell you something, then?” He asks, worrying his thumb with his other hand as he looks at you. You nod in response.

“It was you that inspired me to be this version of myself. Because you can’t only be smart, you also have to work hard. None of my friends back then had that mindset, then came you.”

“What are study buddies for, yeah?” You raise your fist in front of you. He looks at it and smiles his trademark gummy smile. In return, he bumps his own fist into yours, reminiscent of how you two would check in on each other during extended hours in the library finishing a project or a paper. A fist bump to make the heads bump, you two used to say.

Instead of lowering his fist after, he holds it there flush against yours. “Would it be weird for me to say that it’s honestly more than that?”

“What do you mean?”

He took in a deep breath and let out an exhale just as deep. “When I read your papers, I remembered everything we went through in uni and I just…kinda fell in love with your brain again, I guess. Even until now, you—and your work—inspired me to just do it. Then you started popping up everywhere in my life again and…I remembered how I did kinda fall in love with everything else about you. I was just too young and chicken to see it before.”

It took you a whole minute to find your voice again because how could he be this nonchalant? “You’re really just here dropping all these truth bombs without any warning, huh?”

“Like you said, we’re not in college anymore. I’d rather say it now than never.” Vernon’s smile is a shy one, hidden behind his hot chocolate cup. You can’t believe it took a dissertation paper for anyone’s feelings to be revealed—much less his.

As your mind reels with Vernon’s revelation, you scramble your brains to come up with a lighthearted retort. “So are you still kinda in love with me? Just so I know what and how we’re working on this project.”

He chuckles. “I don’t think you’re doing any better. Don’t think I don’t see you staring whenever I fetch Sofia from school.”

You gape at his reply. “How do you even know where to look for me?”

“You’re her last teacher of the day and you both leave the school at the same time. I told you. You just came barging into my life again unannounced, and it wasn’t even your fault. You just sort of…fell in there.”

A smug look took over your features, one you really couldn’t help after hearing all that he had to say. “Vernon Chwe, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were so down bad for me.”

“For that whip-smart brain and that adorable smile, maybe—theoretically—astronomically and catastrophically down bad even.”

You fight the heat rising to your cheeks—and fail. After a cough to hide your growing embarrassment, you say, “I think we’re done for the day.”

“Sure. So. Same time tomorrow?”

You were about to answer when you suddenly realized, “Vernon, it’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow. Don’t you have any other plans?”

He shakes his head and looks you straight in the eye as he says, “Just you. If you say yes.”

Wouldn’t falling further in love with your research partner compromise the integrity of the study? You had no idea. But if that were the case, then you were in for some major trouble.

[fandomizedtrash]

Worthy of an Emperor

Summary: When abundantly worshipped, the Gods would send one of their own to the leaders of Rome as a thank you and reward for their loyalty. As a daughter of Jupiter, you would have never assumed that one day, your peaceful life would be altered forever, as your father sees you as the perfect gift, and bride-to-be for a certain Roman emperor.  (Emperor Geta x daughter of Jupiter!reader)

warnings: Smut, 18+, dubcon, (if you squint), Historical inaccuracies, mythological inaccuracies (come on y'all, who saw this movie for the history), arranged marriage. 

Word count: 2.2k

REQUESTS OPEN

I have not written a fanfic in a very VERY long time so I might be a little rusty. Nonetheless, enjoy!

As a demi-god, your life was more lavish than most young women. Your mother, the daughter of a senator, was seduced by the God many years ago resulting in your conception. And since your birth, a life at court and amongst the most powerful families and men in Rome has been your world. 

Ever since you came of age, nearly every man you passed gazed in your direction. Enchanted by your divinity. Not that you paid it much mind, you were preoccupied with texts, maps, scrolls, and the animals that surrounded the palace. Whatever path your future held was not one that worried you or one you particularly thought about. As long as you had your freedom, what was there to stress about? 

Which is why when your father Jupiter, king of the Gods told you that you were to marry one of the twin Emperors of Rome, you almost laughed in his face. 

“Tell me you are joking?” It was a warm spring day, Summer just on the horizon, while crouching down, you tending to your plants and flowers in the palace garden, your father shot down from the heaven’s in a bolt of lightning startling you. 

“I am afraid I am not. Although I cannot imagine why such news would upset you. Being the bride to one of the most powerful men in all of the Empire.” Your father explained, lecturing you as if you were a child.

“You don’t know Emperor Geta the way I do.” You replied grimly, focusing again at the flora in front of you.

Your contact with the infamous red haired tyrant and his brother has been limited. The few times you were in his vicinity were not particularly found moments. Most of which included the terrible Gladiator tournaments. Spectacles of senseless violence in your opinion. The Emperors would shout and scream and whatever poor souls were sent to fight to the death. The knowledge that he took enjoyment from such brutality gave you everything you needed to know about him. 

What you didn’t know however, was that during these games, the Emperor’s eyes would often wander to search for you in the crowd. It was not a particularly difficult task. You quite literally shined out amongst the mortal spectators, a sight more pleasing than the gory entertainment provided.

During one particular game, as your eyes scanned the box of senators and generals, attempting to distract yourself from the bloody battles below, your vision locked with him. He, like all men who were fortunate enough to gaze upon you, became mesmerized. Your soft skin, and graceful body made Geta dig his nails in the arms of his regal chair at his desire to have you. 

“The Emperor has built me a new temple and has been consistently leaving offerings, being my most faithly worshiper, and in return I have decided to gift him the best thing a God can offer a mortal.”

At this, you shot up from your crouched position. “I am not a present to be offered.” You declared. “I don’t care if he built you a million temples, I would never marry such a man.” Anyone would be crazy to challenge a proclamation from a God, much less the king of them all. But you weren’t just anyone. Divine blood ran through your veins, and your fate would not be bound to a man as sadistic as him. 

“You forget that you don’t have a say in this matter. I can think of worse lives than one as the empress of Rome.” 

“Please.” Your anger had turned to desperation. “I am sure there are other ways to bless and reward Emperor Geta.” 

Your father slowly started walking towards you as he spoke. “I have already promised the Emperor that you are to be his. And I am not one to turn back on an oath.” 

You have never experienced such anger. Promising such a thing before even consulting with you. But a promise from God was as good as done. 

“You need not fret about Geta. He wouldn’t dare hurt a daughter of Jupiter.” You scoffed. Of course your safety was in good hands, but that meant nothing for your happiness. 

“I do hope your sentiment changes. I heard that the wedding is to be the grandest Rome has ever seen.” Another woman would have been bouncing up and down from glee. What you would give to trade places with her. 

“You are to be formally presented to the Emperor tonight. Do make a good impression.” It was the last words your father spoke before a flash of lightning whisked him away to the heavens, leaving you and your racing thoughts alone. 

***

You were escorted by your mother to the main hall where your husband-to-be stood there waiting. Upon hearing the news of your engagement, one might have thought it would be her to marry the emperor. 

“To think that my own girl will soon be the empress of Rome.” She pressed her hand to her heart at the sentiment. “Gods know you were meant for such a life.” 

Your heart was pounding as you made your way to the thrones. Eyes fighting back tears as your destiny awaits you. 

“Emperors.” Your mother began, “may I present my daughter, y/n.” She practically shoved you in front of her, placing you front and center before the twin tyrants. 

“Imperators.” You bowed your head softly at a feeble attempt to humble yourself. 

Geta immediately shot up from his seat to approach you. Eager to get his hands on his eventual wife. 

Taking several paces forward, you and the emperor’s face stood mere inches away from yours as his eyes scanned your face and body, relishing the sight in front of him. 

“Oh yes, she will do quite nicely.” He uttered, sending a nervous chill up your spine. “Your father spoke far too little of how beautiful you are. But there are not enough offerings in the world to thank Jupiter for such a bride. I certainly look forward to having you by my side y/n.” His brown eyes left one more piercing gaze into yours before turning away with the rest of his advisors and senators. 

You let your eyes close as you took a deep breath trying to calm your nerves. 

He wouldn’t dare hurt me. You reminded yourself. You are a daughter of Jupiter, you are part God, there is no future that awaits you that you cannot handle.

***

Everything happened so fast. Within two days, your once peaceful life had turned to non stop preparations for the upcoming nuptials. 

Even you had to admit, the dress given to you was lovely. Chosen by Geta himself, the handmaiden proclaimed as she adorned you in luxurious fabrics and gold. 

You hardly recognized your reflection staring back at you in the mirror. Despite you heritage, you never felt particularly better or more deserving than any other young Roman women. Or your life would be anything too out of the ordinary for a high born.

Looking back now, what a fool you have been. Your whole life, you have been a pawn in-waiting for the fastest man who had the resources to claim a divine bride. And who other than one of the emperors himself. 

The next thing you knew, vows were spoken, music was playing, and every person around you was smiling and laughing, drunk off the finest wines in the Empire. 

“You have hardly touched your food empress.” Geta spoke, drawing attention to the final word of his sentence. 

“I am not a hungry imperator.” You responded, voice sounding as neutral as possible. 

“We are married now, love. Geta will suffice.” 

Unexpectedly. He placed his ringed hand on top of yours. “I do hope that your mother prepared you well for what to expect as a new wife.”

You shuddered as your muscles clenched. Of course you knew, your mother, along with the other ladies at court well explained to you what happens on a wedding night. But with the unexpectedness of it all and the hectic planning, the thought barely crossed your mind. 

Turning to face him finally, you managed to croak out a response. “I am aware.”  

“Splendid.” Geta squeezed your hand fervently. “I hope you know how lucky I am to have you as a bride.” 

“Why me?” You blurted out. It was impossible to keep the question inside of you. “You could have had anyone. Someone to strengthen the growth of the Empire. Just because of my blood does not mean I will serve any use to you or Rome.” Your new husband smirked arrogantly. 

“Our soldiers and generals are stronger than you think. I didn’t marry you for the sake of the Empire. We are already unstoppable. The second I laid my eyes on you in the Colosseum I knew I had to have you. Why do you think I built that damn temple in the first place? For fun?” Your breath got caught in your throat. 

“Caracalla is throwing a fit at the fact that I get to have a divine bride.” He laughed, clearly amused with himself. 

“To think that you are now all mine.” Before you knew it, he smashed his warm lips onto yours in a feaverent kiss.  

“Enjoy the festivities my love.” He broke off the contact suddenly leaving you gasping in shock before turning to you one last time. “I promise what awaits you tonight will be even better.” 

***

It was a warm night, but that did nothing to stop your chills. The party was still in full swing in the halls of the palace, but Geta was growing impatient to have you all to himself, alone. 

You looked out the window and onto the streets. What you would give to be just an ordinary girl, but ordinary was never meant for you. 

“Come here my love.” Geta grabbed your hand and made you face towards him. Like before, he pulled you in for another kiss, this one deeper, more intense, more needy. 

As the kiss continued, Geta started to slowly strip away your clothes. His hands tugged at the ropes holding up your gown and it fell to your feet, leaving you completely exposed.

Once naked, he placed his hand on the back of your neck, lightly squeezing it. “All mine.” His gaze continued to relish the sight of you.  

“Please.” You began. What you were pleading for, you didn’t know, but from what you have seen of the emperor, it was anyone’s guess what he was capable of. 

“Don’t worry, empress, I will be gentle.” guiding you towards the bed, you laid down on the soft mattress, eyes shut so tight you felt they might never open. Perhaps you would be able to find some pleasure in this. From the few whispers you were able to snatch, the ladies of the palace spoke of great satisfaction and delight of their intimate moments with lovers and husbands. While the conditions are not to your liking, maybe there is something to be enjoyed. 

At the foot of the bed, you could hear Geta’s heavy fabrics drop to the ground. A second later, he started climbing on top of you. 

“There is no need to worry.” He whispered in your ear. “You are half god after all, I have every intention of treating you as such.” 

His hands made their way down as his thumb started rubbing your clit gently. 

A moan escaped your lips at the sensation. For the first time this night, your body started to relax, taking in the pleasurable sensation as your new husband had his way with you. 

He soon stopped and his fingers traveled lower, towards your entrance as he slid a finger in and out tortuously. 

“Wet already are we?” His question needed no response. Geta was clearly amused at his once reluctant bride now softly moaning right under him. 

Once you finally felt adjusted, he slid a second finger in without warning, stretching you out even more as his pace continued while sounds of pleasure left your mouth. It felt like an eternity when he finally stopped.

“I’ve waited long enough to have you, I believe my patience has finally run out."

You dared to open your eyes and swallowed at the sight of his erect manhood, not knowing if your body was capable of consuming such a thing. 

Before you had any time to prepare yourself, Geta already started making his way inside of you. 

In one excruciatingly slow motion, the flaming haired emperor stretched you out to the limit as you arched your back. 

Your eyes clenched shut again, trying to adjust to his size. His thrusts were slow, but the pain slowly faded away, replaced by a building pressuring in your sensitive area. 

The thrusts started to pick up pace as you let out another groan. Soon, you felt his fingers touch your chin and lift it upwards.

“Look at me y/n.” He pleaded.

Your eyelids softened, but you did not fully open them, still unwilling to look at Geta in the eyes. 

“Please.” His voice now desperate. Gone was the sadistic emperor you once knew. 

At that, you finally opened your eyes and stared into his dark orbs. His movements became more wild, and the building pressure inside of you reached its climax as you released a sob of relief. 

Geta followed soon after, collapsing on top of you as warm fluids filled your insides. 

You painted, trying to come down from the incredible high you just experienced. 

“I know you don’t love me.” Your husband said, voice a bit dry upon finishing the consummation. “But maybe one day you will.”

[fancyfeathers]

Burn It All Down

(Yandere!Justice League & Yandere!Young Justice)

Based on Yandere!Justice League with their darling!children AU

Chapter One, Songbirds and Snakes -> Next Chapter

This chapter is told from the perspective of Bruce Wayne's Daughter!Reader

(Author's Note- So this is a series I have been really looking forward to writing this series, this is a big passion project of mine and it took forever to figure out how to write this with all the darling characters, Each chapter will be the perspective of the reader but as the different children since when I originally had this concept they were all darling/reader characters. So this chapter will be written in the perspective of Batman's daughter, but the next chapter will be from a different darling's perspective. Anyway, enjoy and thanks for reading!)

This is also a somewhat sequel to my Always Prey But Never A Bird series, but you do not have to read that series to understand this one

You sat in a booth in an old diner, the type that you would find sandwiched between two apartment buildings on a street corner. It was practically empty around this time, a waitress and her friend who stopped by after what you presumed was a bad first date, the staff in the back, and you. You had a duffle bag with your clothes and suit, a pair of headphones, your cell phone and your charger, your motorcycle helmet, your keys, and a few hundred dollars in your back pocket, all crumbled up. You were a few hundred miles south of Star City, in Coast City now, everything was going so well in Star City, it was supposed to be a new start after Gotham, but now you were just back at square one, maybe even less than that. You were supposed to be Black Canary’s and Green Arrow’s partner, not their sidekick that they treated like a child, you were a grown adult before you even left Gotham. You finally had enough of the babying treatment and decided to leave while they were off somewhere on Justice League business, you did not know what they were doing because they never once told you. 

“Is everything alright, Miss? You looked pretty stressed out.” The waitress's voice caught your attention and you turned your head away from the window to look at her, giving her a smile.

“Yes, sorry it’s just been a long day, I rode down from Star City.”

“Oh! That’s a long way, where are you headed?” 

“No clue… I just needed to get away from there.” You watched as a look of concern crossed her face as you stood up from your seat in the booth, pulling your bag and helmet along with you. You set down a five-dollar bill on the table to pay for the cheap cup of coffee you bought and for her tip. “Thank you.” You walked towards the door, pushing it open but bumping shoulders with the person walking inside. You glanced up to mutter an apology, but you felt the person’s hand grab you by the wrist, giving you a slight feeling of panic. Your eyes narrowed at the person looking down at you, you knew who he was. “Mr. Jordan, did Oliver send you to talk to me?”

“Yes, but I’m not here for that.” The Green Lantern sighed, you definitely thought he looked tired, but you could not place the why. He glanced out to the sidewalk outside and gestured with his head. “Let’s talk outside, kid.”

“I’m not a kid…”

“Uh huh, from the last time I remember seeing you it was when you got into an argument with your brother when I stopped to visit your old man during an incident in Gotham.” He spoke in response to your mumble as he let go of your wrist and you were willing to follow him outside, but that event he used as reference was easily eight years ago if not more, you went walking down the street corner, just to where your motorcycle was parked, it seemed that he parked his own car just behind your bike, afterall he cannot always use the lantern ring for transportation. You watched him carefully as he leaned against the hood of his car, his fingers coming to pinch the bridge of his nose, stressed by something or other. “Look, there is no easy way to say this, but there has been a problem in the personal lives of the League members.”

“What sort of problem?”

“A problem like you.” You raised your eyebrow at his remark, a silent warning in case he was accusing you of being a problem. “Not you specifically but… okay just… I have two kids, they’re twins and they went missing recently, two days ago. Found the bathroom window open in the morning, screen kicked out.”

“They ran away?” He nodded in response to your question, you could feel his eyes on you, gauging your reaction to his words as the gears turned in your head. “Not going to lie, you never seemed the type to settle down, who’s their mom?”

“It doesn’t matter-”

“Is it a situation like my own parents?” You watched as he tensed up at your words, calling him out. Your parents had a less than healthy relationship, in other words, your mother was forced to be with your father with no way out. You heard of similar situations from the whispers said about Justice League members, you never expected them to be true, you thought them to be better than your father, but it seems, given what you have seen in Star City and what you were hearing now, they were not. You opened the storage pod on the back of your bike and dropped in your duffel bag. You glanced back at the Green Lantern, narrowing your eyes at him. “Ya, I’m out.”

“Wait, please listen.” He reached out as you swung your left leg over your bike, setting his hand on top of your own as they rested on the handlebars of your motorcycle, giving you a clear view of his lantern ring. “It’s not just my kids, from what I’ve heard a few others have gone missing as-”

“You mean they ran away, there is a difference.” You rolled your eyes, pulling your hand away from his. You reached into the pocket of your leather jacket, pulling out a worn, small, hardback journal, a gift from your ex-boyfriend who was another reason you ditched Gotham, along with a pen. “Who’s kids are missing, I’m assuming you came to me because they could have powers and that’s a danger? Or did you want me to ask them to come back? Cause the second isn’t gonna happen.”

“It’s the first, my own two don’t, but some of the others might.” You clicked your pen, looking up at him expectantly, waiting for him to list off their names or at least who their parents were. “Superman, Wonder Woman-”

“Wonder Woman has a kid?”

“They’re adopted, I think- anyway, Flash, Aquaman, Martian Manhunter, again adopted, Green Arrow-”

“Wait-”

“They left home before you showed up from what I’m told.” His words made you think, were you just a replacement for that missing hole? You pushed down your thoughts, continuing to write down the names as he continued to speak. “Then there are my own kids… and two special cases.”

“Special cases?”

“You, since you were the first to disappear five years ago, but at that point you were eighteen.”

“Who is the other?”

“Giovanni Zatara’s kid, pretty similar to you agewise, but he left home after his dad… you heard the story right?”

“Ya, I heard about Zatara becoming Doctor Fate’s host… not an easy thing to talk about, is it?”

“It is.” He took a heavy breath in and out, shocking his hands into the pockets of his old air force jacket. “Look, just keep an eye out for them, the League will bring them home but-”

“I will do what I want to, I don’t need to remind you that I don’t answer to anyone, especially the Justice League.” You reach where you set your helmet between your legs on the seat of your motorcycle, picking it up and putting it over your head, the visor keeping the Green Lantern from making eye contact with you. “If the rest of the League are like you and my father, then I think they have every valid reason to leave home.” With that you kicked off your bike as the engine started up. “See ya, Lantern.”

“You are late, Hal.” The voice of Black Canary spoke up as the Green Lantern stepped through the Zeta-Tube that connected to the Justice League’s Watchtower. “Did something happen? Need to talk about it?”

“Ya… I met up with Songbird, she was stopped in Coast City-”

“Is she okay? She’s safe, right?”

“She’s fine, a little pissy but fine.” The Green Lantern responded to the worried questioning of Black Canary, which also turned heads of the others who were also standing by the Zeta-Tube entrance instead of waiting in the meeting hall, namely Doctor Fate, the Batman, and Guy Gardener. “Think she is going to head off to the East Coast after this.”

“No, she’ll be staying in the central states.” The voice of Batman spoke up, making everyone turn their heads towards the man covered in all black. “She wouldn’t go anywhere near Gotham, she is stubborn and isn’t one to let go of grudges.”

“We can send Barry to check up on her-”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Hal responded as he began to walk, or rather float alongside Black Canary. “She made it clear to me that she wants nothing to do with the League-”

“Her father is in the League-”

“She has refused to be associated with him, and I don’t think she is one to piss off right now. Just give her space, I think she needs it right now.” 

“Knowing my daughter, when she is given space she is going to cause a lot of trouble.”

You were stopped on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere Arizona, you think you were somewhere about fifty miles from Flagstaff, but it was hard to tell since you had your phone all the way turned off to keep someone from tracking you. You had picked up a paper map at one of the rest stops, trying to figure out a way to get up north, preferably a city with a international airport so you could have choices of where to go next, after all you did have your brand new passport on you along with contact information of one of your old sponsor from when you where a vigilante in Gotham, he would wire you money if you needed it for a ticket or supplies. Right now you were having serious problems with reading this map, you didn’t need a map like this back in Gotham or Star City, and you never legally learned how to drive or ride a motorcycle, just another thing on the long list of things your father kept you from doing.

“Fuck this.” You groaned, finally fed up with trying to figure this map out, you reached into your leather jacket’s pocket and pulled out your phone, powering it on with a long press of the power button. When the screen lit up, you found a long list of missed calls and unread texts from Dinah and Oliver. You rolled your eyes, pulling up the maps app on your phone, and you were indeed in the middle of nowhere. You rolled your eyes, turning your phone back off and shoving everything back into your pockets, your phone and the folded up map. But right as you remounted your bike and were about to slip on your helmet you felt the phone ring in your pocket, you groaned and pulled it out, expecting it to be Oliver or Dinah trying to call you again, but instead it was an unknown number, you slid the green pick up button with your finger and brought the phone to your ear. “Hello, who is this?”

“A friend of a friend.” You did not like the tone of voice you heard the caller use, you could say it was a man and the voice sounded roughly familiar, but it must have been such a long time since you heard it that you could not quite place who it was supposed to be. “Sorry, that sounded threatening, I am a business partner of Mark Austen, I believe you two were close acquaintances when you lived in Gotham, he was a sponsor of yours, yes?”

“He was… I’m sorry but who is this and how did you get my number?” 

“You should know that the second part of that question is obvious given your level of intelligence.” You could practically hear the smugness in his voice, he obviously knew you were Songbird so that left your secret identity vulnerable if your suspicions of this person being potentially malicious turned out to be true. “I would like to have a meeting with you, Miss Wayne. Or at least some friends of mine would like to meet with you, don’t worry no one will be harmed and you can be on your way afterwards.”

“Pass, especially since I don’t know who you are and I certainly don’t know who your so called friends are-”

“Oh but you do, I believe the last time you saw them was just before you left Gotham.” Your brain immediately began piecing together the clues that were given to you, the secrecy is not something your father or siblings would have with you if they wanted to talk to you, they would have showed up by now, stalking their way into the shadows of whatever hotel room you were staying in, and then it could not be your ex fiance since he was far to in the limelight to need to have someone reach out on his behalf, besides there were no secrets between the two of you since you found who he really was, a member of the Court of Owls, no not just a member because he killed his mother to have full control of the court. With the other two options removed, that left one person. 

“I am not meeting them, and I know who they are.” You growled on your end of the line, the venom and anger bubbling in your voice at the clear lines that were being crossed here. “I don’t know how you know Ra’s Al Ghul, but the last time I saw him, he was willing to kill me and bring me back to life just so he could take me out of Gotham with him and Talia-”

“I promise you that-”

“Fuck off, don’t call me again.” You hug up the phone, powering it down completely and tucking it into your pocket before you slide your helmet back on. You needed to scrap the phone soon, see if you could buy a burner until you could buy a new one safely. “God, I hate my life.”

It was a few days later when you arrived in Chicago, Illinois, you were going to rest for the night before calling up Mark Austen in the morning to inquire about funds and his mysterious business partner, and then hopefully you will be on a flight out of the country by the end of the week. You didn’t have much, so your duffle bag was thrown on the bed with your toiletries pulled out and on the hotel room’s bathroom counter, set there by you while showered off all the dust and dirt you got on you from your motorcycle, which you would probably have to drain out the oil and gas and disconnect the battery before you shipped it along with you to wherever your destination would be. 

You stepped out of the hotel bathroom’s shower, drying off with one of those warm, fluffy, white towels they had provided for you before slipping on the white hotel robe that was provided for you along with the room. You felt something was wrong as you reached for the hairbrush from the counter. You unlocked the bathroom door before stepping into the hotel’s bedroom, it was dark with the lights out and the curtains drawn…

You had the curtains open before you went to take a shower, something was wrong, very wrong.

“Hello there, my lady.” You nearly screamed when you heard a voice you didn’t recognize speak up, you snapped your head around to see the frame of a woman lurking in the darkest corner of the room, even with your eyes adapted to the darkness, you could not figure out her face due to the hood and mask she wore, certainly a member of the League of Assassins or at least something similar. “It is an honor to meet the granddaughter of-”

“Ra’s Al Ghul is not my grandfather!” You shouted at the assassin, your mother had been taken in a relationship with Talia Al Ghul, and you were half siblings with her son, and since the master assassins have met you, they have always held some level of affection for you, whether you wanted it or not. “Leave, I don’t want anything to do with you or the League of Assassins-”

“I am not here on behalf of the League of Assassin, but rather on The Great One’s personal behalf along with a few of his… colleagues.” She took a step forward which made you take a step back. “There is a group that has invited you to join, The Great One thinks you would benefit greatly from-”

“Leave, I want with nothing to do with what Ra’s wants for me.” You reply, snapping back at the assassin. “I suggest you leave right now before I deal with you myself, do you understand?”

“My apologies, my lady…” The assassin spoke, and you watched as she walked past you towards the blind covered windows, you watched as she opened them to reveal that the hotel window was open, no doubt her point of entry. “If you change your mind, The Great One would be overjoyed to welcome you home.”

“Trust me I won’t.” You replied and you watched as she leaped from the window, disappearing from your vision. You sighed, moving to sit down on the bed, resting your head in your hands. You spotted that little notebook peeking out from your leather jacket’s pocket that was laying on the bed down next to you. You groaned, picking it up and flipping through the used pages until you reached that small list you had made, that list of names, of the parents of the missing- no, that was the wrong word, the runaway children…

Superman…

Wonder Woman…

Flash…

Aquaman…

Martian Manhunter…

Green Arrow…

Giovanni Zatara…

Green Lantern…

And you, the daughter of the Batman.

God, you hate it when you get ideas. You doubted that any of them wanted to go home, after all, you certainly did not and you ran away just like all the rest did. You took out your phone from your pocket and you began to type in the first name to start. 

You have been to Paris once before, it was before your parents got married, when your mother took you on one of her business trips. You remember how much fun you had with her during that trip, on all of the trips you took with her. It has been so long since you took a trip anywhere with her, you never took trips anywhere after you moved to Gotham, and you just remember how depressed your mother got during those days, like the life and the light in her eyes were drained from her. 

You pushed open the doors of the cafe, the Angelina Cafe, you remember when your mother took you here when you were little, coming to this place just for the hot chocolate. You were dressed in a nice pink wool coat and a short tea cup dress to match, it felt nice to wear something more formal for a change. You walked up to the hostess stand as the young lady standing behind it looked up at you with a smile as you spoke to her. “Je rejoins un ami, mademoiselle. Un jeune homme, il devrait être assis seul. L'avez-vous vu?”

“oui, il y avait un jeune homme qui est entré il y a quelques minutes, il est assis à la table dans le coin arrière gauche de la salle à manger.” 

“Merci.” You gave her a small wave as you strutted across the floor into the dining room, and you spotted the young man she was talking about, sitting all alone in the back corner of the cafe. You walked up to his table and you confidently sat down across from him without being invited or saying a word, and the young man looked up at you with a look of heavy confusion. “You are the son of Giovanni Zatara, correct?”

“Yes… who are you? How do you know-”

“I am the daughter of Bruce Wayne, I think our situations are quite similar.”

“You mean…”

“With our parents, and I hate to say we are not the only ones.”

[erensfeed]

content: boyfriends who would flash their headlights before leaving through the driveway, as their way of saying they love you.

note: i really love the concept & idea of a bf so i wrote this.

ps. i still can’t believe that men aren’t real :c

It’d become your ritual by now, this endless loop of ‘I love you more’—something you both say especially when you know you’ll miss each other, even if it’s just for a few hours.

Today was no different.

You leaned against the doorway, still wrapped in the warmth of his last hug, and watched him shoot you that adorable smile that always made your heart flutter as he walked backwards away from you.

“I’m gonna miss you,” he said, his voice softer than his playful growing grin suggested as he took another few steps back.

Laughing, you said his name fondly. “We’re literally seeing each other again soon in like… five hours.”

“Yeah, but that's like…” he gently shook his head like you didn’t understand. “…forever.” he added, a small feigned frown forming on his face after.

You rolled your eyes playfully, but with a soft smile, you reminded him, “What matters is that at the end of the day, you’ll be back in my arms.”

And just like that, his expression softened, eyes warm as he took in those words.

“Fine… I love you.” he said as he was taking another step back, and by now, it’s instinctive — so with a deepening smile and a slight scrunch of your nose, you fired it right back at him, no hesitation. “Mmm, I love you more.”

He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head once more as he started toward his car, already knowing where this was headed. “Okay, you know I’m not gonna let you win this one, right?”

“Oh, you just keep telling yourself that babe,” you teased lightly, a warm laugh slipping out.

"Only ‘cause it’s true,” his grin widened as he opened the car door. But before getting in, he lifted his hand to draw a quick heart over his chest, then pointed back at you as his way of saying—it’s all yours. And just to make sure you knew, he added, “That means I love you more."

He got you there, you couldn’t lie. Shaking your head, you decided to let him think he had the last word by nodding and even giving him a little wave as he climbed into the car. Once he settled in, you made a quick and small ‘buckle up’ gesture to remind him to, and he caught it right away. Through the windshield, you could see him mouth a ‘oh oops—yes, ma'am’ before that. And you noticed he never took his eyes off you as he clicked it in place, giving you a double thumbs-up with a boyish grin after.

Still smiling, you lifted your hand, making a little phone gesture by your ear—another silent reminder for him as you also mouthed a, ‘Call me when you get there, okay?’

He laughed, nodding exaggeratedly, as if he had no intention of forgetting as he started the engine. Already, you could feel that warm tug in your chest, the one that happens when you start missing him.

As he starts backing out onto the road, you couldn’t help it — you thought it softly, adding his name with those three words.

And then, as if he somehow heard you, his headlights flashed one—two—three—four times at you with a smile and a wave, just before he fully backed out from the driveway to the road. A quick, unmistakable, quiet message of:

‘I love you too.’

As you stood there waving back to him, your heart grew full when you processed it, a peaceful, quiet joy filling you as you watched him go.

The moment was so tender, because he was pretty much saying, ‘I’ll always find a way to say it back.’

And honestly, you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

After his car had disappeared down the road, you headed back inside the house, settling onto the couch—that same small panging feeling of missing him coming back again. When suddenly, an impulse struck, and with a smirk, you whipped out your phone to quickly type out:

⊹ don’t think i’m letting you off that easily tho babe 🤑 i still love you the most 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

Seeing your text at the next stoplight, he smiled to himself like a fool.

eren. gojo. rafayel. caleb. jean. + your favs !

[aeristudios]

see you, space cowboy (epilogue)

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It's been almost a year since everything has happened, and you're ready to come home—to the man who never stopped waiting. .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bounty hunter!Wonwoo x bounty hunter!reader, brief mentions of other members (Jeonghan, Soonyoung, Mingyu and Seungcheol) .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst, sc-fi, smut, fluff, lovers to enemies to ???, cowboy bebop elements, space au, established relationship, neo-noir, dystopian-ish if you squint .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: PLEASE READ ALL THE WARNINGS! heavy angst, very strong language, mentions of murder/attempted murder, gun violence, morally grey characters, grief, guilt/self blame, kissing, very messy oral (f. receiving), nipple play, fingering, nail digging, unprotected sex, missionary, creampie, and still lots and lots of yearning .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2.2K .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝐀𝐍: Reader's nickname is Silver and the reason for the nickname is explained in the main story attached to this: See You, Space Cowboy. I highly encourage you to read that story first because this epilogue will make more sense. I wasn't planning on writing another part to this, but you guys really loved the story and wanted to know what was going to happen to them after this. Tbh, so did I. I loved writing these two and I shed a lot of tears writing their story. Ugh I hope this love finds me one day lol. Thank you to @lovetaroandtaemin & @wooahaeproductions for looking at this with me and thank you again @hobeemin for the banner 🖤

main story visual concept #1 visual concept #2 playlist

The sand here is warmer than you remember. 

It almost feels like silk, running your fingers over the tiny grains that sparkle like gold in the sunlight. The forever tropical breeze sways your hair off your shoulders, your silver hair shining like a beacon in the sun. The waters crash against the rocks, revealing the hidden coral, and you stand there in awe. 

The Sanctuary— your safe place, your peace. 

It’s been almost a year since you took out Aeron and showed the galaxy what a murderer he was, clearing your name with all the evidence you gathered with the help of Selene. There was no trial; his death was written up as self-defense, and no one was going to question more than they needed to. Wonwoo was placed as the interim head of The Organization and had to learn quickly how to take over the ropes and be the Boss. You stayed at a hideaway spot on a neighboring planet, with nothing but oceans for miles and a small island with a house and everything you needed. Jeonghan and Sohee visited often and kept you company, while Mingyu and Soonyoung came to drop off supplies at Wonwoo's request, keeping you alive during your self-isolation. 

The thing is, you could have come back as soon as your name was cleared, resumed your bounty hunter status, and gone back to the life you had before. Wonwoo begged for you to come back, to be with him, and as much as your heart yearned and your body ached for him, you weren’t ready. You were a debilitating mess, and you needed to heal, and bless Wonwoo for wanting to see you through that, but you needed to be alone. You needed to properly mourn and grieve. 

God, Wonwoo is a saint. You’ve put him through so much, and you’re still the sun that rises for him. He sent you updates without you asking, and sometimes you replied, sometimes you were so deep in your pain that you would shut off your phone for days and pretend nothing existed. You’re a shitty fiance; you know that, and you firmly believe that he deserves better than what you have been giving him. 

So why are you here?

Simply put, you miss him. 

Your time apart from him has been agonizing, eating you alive every day. You needed time to heal, but you are ready to come back into the fold. To come back home, which has always been with him. You’ve thought about it a lot; all you could dream about was him. The time you shared your first kiss, when he told you he loved you for the first time, when he asked you to marry him, etc. Your thoughts were loud even when it was quiet, and you knew it was time to quit wallowing in your self-pity and to be the partner Wonwoo deserved. 

You sent him the message yesterday. Just two words.

 “Tomorrow. Sanctuary.” 

He didn’t respond, but you know that he’ll come. Wonwoo has never let you down; you’re the fuck up in this relationship, after all. 

So here you are, standing on this beach with the sand between your feet, your stomach in knots as you wait with bated breath to see your beautiful man. You close your eyes, letting the wind grace your cheeks as you try to drown out the voices of doubt in your head, and just for a moment, just breathe. 

But then you hear the sound of boots crushing the sand, and your heart starts to pound in your chest, threatening to break free. You slowly turn and look at him, the wind picking up as you are finally face to face with the love of your life. His hair is a little longer now, barely touching the back of his neck, and he almost seems taller? Maybe you’ve been apart too long, and it’s fucking with your psyche. You don’t know. 

But one thing remains the same: his eyes. They are deep and soft when he looks at you. You still see home, your saving grace. 

“Hey there, space cowboy.” 

Wonwoo chuckles at his nickname, raking his fingers through his hair. The sun shines on him in the right way, and there isn’t a lens in the world that could do him justice. 

“Hey, my pretty girl,” he says, pulling you closer to him. You breathe in his familiar cologne, trying to keep the tears behind your eyes at bay, but you’re struggling. You love him so much; he is your lifeline. You hope that you will always find each other in the next life.

“I’m surprised you came.” You say, your voice is trembling. “I thought you’d be sick of my shit by now.” 

“There you go, still not trusting me,” he tsks. 

“Oh, stop, you know it’s not that—”

“No, it’s literally that,” Wonwoo interrupts. “How many times do I have to tell you—or better yet, show you—that I’m not going anywhere? I would do anything for you, baby. You ask me to leap, and I will. You ask me to shoot, and I’ll pull the trigger, no questions asked. I love you. “

His eyes peer into yours, penetrating your soul and leaving you vulnerable. There’s always been talk about how you're the sun that rises and sets for Wonwoo… but he is your twin moons, his soft light guiding you through your darkness. He’s your anchor, your rock, your peace. You were made for each other, and it’s never been clearer. 

“I left you,” you say tearfully. “You needed me, too, and I stayed gone. It’s okay to be mad at me. Scream at me! Do something!” 

“Silver,” the sound of your name makes your heart flutter. “You were never really gone.”

He points at your engagement ring, sparkling in all of its glory. You knew he always looked out for you, even when you couldn’t do it yourself. 

“God, you are such a romantic,” you scoff, rolling your eyes playfully. 

“Only for you, baby..” 

You shake your head, looking across the horizon as the sun begins to set, the sun turning into a stunning display of red and orange hues. You think about everything that has happened to get you where you are now, and even though your name is clear, how can you return to the way things were?

“So, what’s going to happen when we go back?” You decide to rip off the band-aid. 

Wonwoo kicks the sand around, and you see he is choosing his words before responding. 

“I stepped down.”

You look at him, your mouth open in shock as disbelief runs through you. “Y-you stepped down? Is it because of me?”

“Yes, but not in the way you think,” he says, gauging your expression. “I don’t want to be the head of The Organization. That’s what Aeron wanted, that’s what he trained me for. I love the missions and all that, but being the head meant longer hours, less missions, and not being home with you. I would hate that, and I already fucking resent it.” 

You study him, unsure about how you feel about this. “Are you sure? Don’t feel like you need to baby me, Wonwoo. I can take care of myself.” 

“Silver, stop.” His voice is firm but gentle, keeping you in check. “I know you are capable of handling things on your own. But my point is that we would not have the life we have always discussed if I took over. I’m still on the board and made sure you are on it too. So we still get a say in major decisions. “

“Okay,” you think it over. “So, who is taking over?” 

“I nominated Choi Seungcheol to take over. He’s capable and has the mindset to lead.” Wonwoo pauses, intertwining his fingers with yours. “I just want my job and you. Everything will be fine.”

You know of Seungcheol, and though you weren’t friends, you have to admit he is a good bounty hunter. He’s number three behind you and Wonwoo, and the few times you had to do jobs with him, you knew he had your back. Maybe the future isn’t so bleak after all. 

“So what I am hearing is, you still want to marry me?” You tease him.

Wonwoo’s expression softens as he pulls you closer, your lips barely brushing against his. 

“Of course. I’m going to love you for the rest of my life and the next one after.”

“Wonwoo, just kiss me already.”

 His lips crash against yours, his arms wrapped around your waist as your legs buckle at his embrace. His lips taste familiar, like the peace of home you have been missing for almost a year. You are done with the self-deprivation— you want him. Need him. And judging by the way he grabs your ass, he feels the same way. 

“I need you,” you whisper against his lips. 

“I know, baby, “ he says in between kisses. “I booked our favorite room on the way here.” 

Biting your lip, you let him lead you across the beach towards one of the many rooms in the Sanctuary, taking out the key card and tapping it on the reader. He opens the door to a spacious room with a soft king-size bed, expansive windows, and an open sliding door, inviting the ocean air in. You barely enter before your lips find his again, tearing off his shirt and throwing it across the room. You feel him smirk against your lips, unbuttoning your jeans and shoving them down your legs. Your desire for him is carnal, haunting even, and you need him inside of you now. 

“Fuck me, please,” you beg, undoing his belt. “It’s been so long.” 

“Aren’t we needy today?” he teases you. 

“I’m needy all the time.” 

“Touche.” 

He takes off his pants, revealing his stiff cock, and it makes you salivate. In your time apart, you’ve touched yourself to that night in the shower over and over, reminiscing the time he tasted and fucked you like it was the last time you would have that again. Now, you will have many more to come. 

You let him slowly take off your panties, spreading your legs wide as he looks at the sweet nectar between your legs. He licks his lips, grabbing you by your hips and pulling you closer to his face. He takes one long lick in between your folds, his tongue playfully brushing against your clit. 

“Please,” you breathe. “Wonwoo, please.” 

He obliges, eating you like a man with a purpose, to satisfy you. He nips at your thighs just the way you like it, spitting on your clit and sucking you all the same. He is dirty, filthy, sliding his fingers inside you and out of you, and tasting each time. Your eyelids are heavy, and you are on a high,  watching Wonwoo get pussy drunk off you, and it’s taking everything in you to not cum in his mouth. 

“You feel so good,” you cry out. “I missed you.” 

He hums in agreement, the vibrations from his mouth sending jolts throughout your legs. You take off your shirt, your fingers brushing against your nipples, pinching your hardening mounds. With one last lick, Wonwoo stands up, his face wet with your arousal dripping off his chin as he hovers over you. You lift up to meet his lips, tasting yourself on his tongue and understanding his addiction. Your legs wrap around him as he enters you with one smooth, slow thrust.

“Fuck,” you cry out, feeling relief and instant gratification. 

“I know, baby, I know.” 

He moves slowly at first, deep and intentional, like every motion is an act of forgiveness. Your fingers are in his hair. You look into his eyes and nod, giving him the okay to take you however he wants. 

He does that. His pace starts to build, rocking the bed against the wall as he fucks you harder, spilling your name from his pretty mouth. Your nails dig into his back, begging for more as the sound of slapping skin and moans fills up the room, not caring who hears you outside. You’ve never felt more alive, watching his cock slide in and out of you with such earnest, begging for your sugarness to cover him once again. 

“Wonwoo, I—” 

“Go ahead. Give it to me.” 

Your back arches as you see those familiar white stars, sending you over the edge as your release feels like a resurrection. Your legs shake; you're breathless,  sweaty and fucked out. He follows shortly after, spilling inside of you, his body trembling against yours. 

He doesn’t move, and neither do you. You stay wrapped around him, basking in the heat, sweat, and salt of everything you thought you’d lost. Your heart beats against his, a kindred soul in all this, confirming that you have your person and will never let him go. 

“I love you, Jeon Wonwoo.” 

He lifts up slowly, smiling softly as he kisses you sweetly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I love you more, Silver. I always have, and I always will.” 

You smile softly, returning his affection as you continue to make up for lost time, taking advantage of your new lease on your lives. At the end of the day, it will always be you and him. 

The Sanctuary, that is you and him—still standing.

And outside, the sea keeps living.

Just like you.

thank you for reading!! I can't believe we are done...

or are we? if you are interested in any spinoffs from some of the other characters in the story, comment, reblog or send an ask <3

[wordsofwhimsy]

【Ｏｐｐｏｓｉｔｅｓ　

Ａｔｔｒａｃｔ】 - Part Twelve

Pairing: Mohawk!Mark Grayson x f!Reader

Warnings: None

Tags: Fluff, romance, Mark starts to get a liittle unhinged tho – an early warning sign, mayhaps?

Word Count: 2,588

Chapter Synopsis: Mark glows in the aftermath of your first kiss, and Emily struggles to deal with the annoyingness that quickly became y’alls relationship.

Part Eleven

Mark was smug, even as you fell asleep.

At some point—maybe twenty minutes after your last breathless kiss, maybe two hours, he had no concept of time—you’d drifted off, curled against him, heart finally quiet. Mark lay there, absolutely still, smirking up at the ceiling like the MVP of the universe. King of your dorm room. Sultan of your heart. Kyle could eat shit. He had one arm wrapped around your back, the other resting behind his head as he basked in the kind of peace that could only be earned by winning the game, getting the girl, and ruining a rival’s whole bloodline—all in a single night.

Your breath was warm against his collarbone. The weight of you on his chest—tangled in the blanket, still wearing that oversized hoodie—made his entire body feel still. Not grounded, not chained. Held.

He could’ve stayed like that forever.

But of course, forever doesn’t exist, and eventually the door creaked open. Mark blinked once, then turned his head slowly—because he knew. Of course he knew it was your damn roommate.

Emily froze halfway into the room, holding a giant water bottle, a half-eaten granola bar, and the unmistakable look of someone who'd just walked in on the third act of a coming-of-age movie.

“…Oh my god,” she whispered, eyes wide.

Mark gave her a look. “Do you ever knock?”

Emily blinked, then scoffed like he was the one being dramatic. “Knock? Bro, I live here.”

She took exactly three steps into the room before freezing again, eyes darting between you and Mark, the fairy lights, the blanket, the sheer level of post-makeout emotional devastation happening in real time.

“Also? Gross. And weirdly adorable. I feel like I just walked into a Taylor Swift lyric.”

“Who the hell is Taylor Swift?”

Emily gasped like he’d slapped her. “You did not just say that.”

He turned his head slowly, one brow raised, completely unfazed. “You’re ruining my moment right now.”

“Your—”

Mark turned on his side with zero hesitation, giving her his entire back like she was the credits screen of a movie he’d already seen twice. One arm tugged you tighter into his chest like a very warm, very smug vice grip.

“Shhh,” he said, deadpan. “It’s bedtime.”

Emily stood there, scandalized.

“Are you—are you actually fake-sleeping me right now?!”

Mark didn’t respond. Just buried his face in your hair like she no longer existed. You stirred a little in his arms, a small sound escaping your throat—barely awake, just enough to wrinkle your nose and shift your weight. Mark instinctively softened, pulling you closer with one hand while the other moved gently to your head, stroking your hair with the care of someone handling glass.

“Go back to sleep,” he murmured, voice low and warm. Then, a featherlight kiss to your forehead.

Emily stared like she was witnessing the emotional equivalent of a solar eclipse. “Okay. Yeah. I’m not sleeping in here tonight,” she groaned, turning on her heel and heading straight back for the door.

Mark raised one hand—still not facing her—and gave a lazy little wave. “Goodnight, Emily.”

Emily flipped him off and closed the door behind her.

There was only a minute of silence before he heard it. A tiny, unmistakable fluttering noise. Followed by… a chirp?

He sighed, then slowly turned his head once again—just in time to see something the size of a soda can launch itself off the bookshelf, wings flapping awkwardly as it dive-bombed the bed and landed squarely on his hip with a triumphant fwump.

“Oh, lord. This fuckin' thing…”

Pesto, now perched proudly on Mark’s hip like he owned the place, gave him a look—cocked head, narrow eyes, like yeah, what about it?

Mark let out a groan. “What is your deal? Every time we’re alone, you’ve got to make a dramatic entrance?”

Pesto flicked his tail, not even bothering to respond. He just puffed out his tiny chest like the badass he believed himself to be.

“Uh-huh,” Mark said, clearly done with this. “You're lucky she likes you, or I’d toss you across the room right now.”

Pesto gave him the most judgmental look possible, then gingerly nipped at the fabric of Mark’s suit. Like he was trying to claim ownership over it.

Mark’s eyebrow twitched. “Un-fucking-believable…”

—

Mark woke with a jolt in the middle of the night, the faint glow of the fairy lights still softly illuminating the room. His chest tightened the second he noticed the empty space next to him.

What the hell?

His heart started to pound as he sat up, eyes frantically scanning the room, half-convinced something terrible had happened. He reached across the bed, his hand searching for you, but the spot was cold. The covers were barely disturbed. His mind started to race.

What the hell?

The panic hit like a tidal wave. He bolted upright, ready to tear through the door and search every damn room, every floor, every inch of the dorms. His brain was working in overdrive—he could feel the fury of an all-too-familiar protective instinct bubbling up, the kind that had saved (and destroyed) cities and lives. But this? This was different.

It wasn’t about saving you from danger—it was about not knowing where the hell you’d gone.

He pushed himself off the bed, bolting for the door, ready to kick down the halls if he had to, but—

The door creaked open, and there you were, looking like a half-dazed sleepwalker, freshly out of the shared bathroom with your hoodie on backwards and your messy hair even more tangled than usual.

Mark froze, blinking a few times to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. His heart was still hammering in his chest, but seeing you—half-asleep, stumbling into the room like you didn’t just nearly make him tear apart the entire building—made him pause for a moment.

“...You’re okay?” he asked, his voice still tight with the remnants of his panic. His hand instinctively reached for you, pulling you gently back toward the bed.

You yawned, rubbing your eyes. “What? I just went to the bathroom….”

Mark let out a sigh of relief so deep, he practically deflated. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, pressing his hand to his forehead. “You can’t just disappear like that, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

You blinked up at him, clearly not fully awake, and groaned in that sweet, annoyed way you did when he acted a little too dramatic. “It’s not that serious, Mark.”

But Mark was already pulling you back into the bed, wrapping his arms around you tighter this time, as if to make sure you weren’t going anywhere.

“Next time,” he mumbled, already drifting back to sleep, “tell me when you’re leaving. Save this place some devastation…”

You chuckled, curling into his side as you finally settled. “I’m not a prisoner, you know.”

“Not yet,” he muttered, a little grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “But I’ll make sure I keep an eye on you, just in case.”

You were asleep again within minutes. Mark wasn’t.

He stared up at the ceiling, arm curled around you, your breath slow and steady against his chest. You didn’t even know what you’d done to him. One minute you were yawning in his hoodie like a sleepy little gremlin, and the next—boom. Full-blown existential spiral.

He hadn’t realized how deep it was until you disappeared. Just for a minute. Not even long enough for your side of the bed to cool. But it had felt like someone knocked the wind out of him with a crowbar.

He’d nearly gone full Viltrumite over a bathroom trip.

Mark closed his eyes and let out a slow breath through his nose, jaw tightening. Pathetic. That’s what it was. He wasn’t supposed to feel this... raw. This tangled. How the hell did this happen? How did it get to a point where your mere absence felt like a punch to the ribs. He wasn’t built for this. He knew that.

And yet.

Here you were, the literal definition of peaceful, drooling slightly on his chest, while he spiraled like a goddamn teenager. It was humiliating.

He ran his fingers absently through your hair, brushing a few strands out of your face. The glow from the fairy lights was soft, gold-pink across your skin. You looked like something out of a dream. His. Just his.

Mark wasn’t good at this. At having things. The universe had a funny way of taking everything he cared about and turning it into ash. He wasn’t naïve enough to think that this—you—would be any different.

But that didn’t stop him from holding you tighter anyway.

Just in case.

There was a soft chirp from the corner. Mark didn’t even look.

“No,” he said flatly. “Do not jump back on the bed.”

A flutter of wings.

“Pesto. I swear to god.”

Another flutter. Then silence. Then the softest little plop as something very small and very smug landed on Mark’s shoulder.

He sighed, but didn’t say anything. Pesto gave a soft warble and curled up right there, like a self-satisfied cat.

Mark didn’t bother fighting it. He just let his head fall against the pillow, one arm full of you, one shoulder full of nuisance, and a thousand thoughts clawing at his brain.

But it was fine. You were here. For now. And that was enough.

He could lose his mind about it later.

—

You didn’t mean to start living in each other’s pockets.

It just kind of happened.

One minute Mark was spending the night “just this once,” and the next he had a toothbrush in your mug, half his suit shoved under your bed, and a habit of looking at anyone who got within a five-foot radius of you like they were trespassing on government property.

It wasn’t weird, exactly. Not to you at least. It wasn’t even something you noticed.

He walked you to class (every class), texted you at lunch (even when you’d just got up to use the restroom), and kissed the back of your hand like some kind of war-scarred gentleman every time he left the room.

It was sweet. Intense, but sweet.

Emily, however, looked like she was two days away from submitting a missing persons report on your autonomy.

“You do realize he’s stalking you with affection, right?” she said one morning, peering over her cereal at you.

“What? No, he’s just—he’s being nice.”

“He walked you to the bathroom.”

“I forgot my ChapStick!”

“He waited outside the door.”

“So I wouldn’t get lonely?”

Emily just stared at you, stunned into silence by the sheer force of your delusion. “That’s not normal,” she said slowly. “That’s Disney-villain-with-a-redemption-arc behavior.”

You shrugged, entirely unbothered. “It’s cute.”

Emily dropped her spoon. “It’s unhinged.”

But when Mark showed up ten minutes later, still zipping up his suit top as he climbed in through the window, eyes scanning the room like he’d physically short-circuit if he didn’t see you immediately—

You smiled. Lit up like a sunbeam. He melted. Emily fake gagged into her cereal.

The weird part wasn’t that Mark was suddenly always around. It was that it didn’t feel weird.

He hadn’t left your side since That Night™—as if someone hit a switch labeled “You’re Mine Now” in his brain and forgot to turn it off.

And honestly? You didn’t mind.

He walked you to class like a security escort, sat behind you in lectures like a bodyguard, and waited outside your dorm room any time Emily kicked him out for more than ten minutes.

It wasn’t weird to you at all. Although, when you thought about it, you weren’t sure how he was allowed to always be there. I mean, he wasn’t even a student at your college...

At first you figured maybe he’d made a friend on the security team. Or maybe he had a cousin on the registrar board who owed him a favor.

But then you saw it. The lanyard. Hanging around his neck like he was a legit student. Photo ID. Barcode. University seal.

Except instead of a major, it said: "Mark. Just Mark. Authorized Presence."

You stared. “What the hell is ‘Authorized Presence’?”

“It’s official.”

“That doesn’t answer anything.”

He shrugged. “Didn’t have time for the paperwork.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Mark… what did you do?”

He smiled, boyish and unbothered. “Nothing illegal.”

“Mark—”

“Okay, technically illegal, but the guy I talked to said it was fine after he stopped screaming.”

You dropped your face into your hands. “You threatened someone, didn’t you.”

Mark leaned in, nosing at your temple affectionately. “I prefer ‘strongly encouraged.’”

Emily found the ID later and had to sit down. “Oh my god. Did you let a man with no legal ties to this school infiltrate academia because he makes out with you?”

You blinked. “...Yeah?”

Emily wheezed. “I’m going to jail by association.”

In class, he didn’t take notes. He didn’t have a backpack. He had zero academic interest in anything the professor was saying. He just sat in the back row, long legs kicked out, arms folded, watching you like you were the only thing worth learning.

You looked back at him once and mouthed, Go home.

He mouthed back; I am home.

Emily saw the whole thing and nearly defected to another friend group.

You’d wake up with him wrapped around you like a weighted blanket. You’d fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat under your cheek. He kissed your forehead so often it was starting to feel like punctuation.

It was a little much. Butalso… kind of everything.

Emily, meanwhile, was suffering.

“I’m staging an intervention,” she said one afternoon, poking her head around the corner to find Mark curled up on your bed, scrolling on his phone with one arm lazily draped over your waist. “You’re gonna forget how to function without him. You’ll walk out of here and just fall over.”

Mark didn’t even look up. “She functions fine. I carry the heavy stuff.”

“You carried her backpack to every class today,” Emily deadpanned.

“She looked tired.”

“It had a notebook and a pen in it.”

Mark didn’t even blink. Instead, he turned toward you, took your wrist gently in his hand and lifted it up between you like he was presenting fragile treasure. His fingers cradled yours so delicately, it looked ridiculous—like he was about to lay a crown jewel on a velvet pillow.

“She has small, delicate wrists,” he said, with absolute sincerity. “She shouldn’t be straining herself.”

You opened your mouth. “Okay, first of all—”

Mark brought your wrist to his lips and kissed it. Soft. Thoughtful. Like you were made of spun sugar and he was making a silent vow to never let the world bruise you. You lost your words and instead just smiled sweetly at him.

Emily made a noise like she was choking on her own soul. “You’re both insane. You’re gonna get married and name your kids after war crimes.”

Mark grinned against your skin. “Dibs on Napalm.”

You snorted.

Emily threw a pillow at him. “GET OUT.”

———————

Part Thirteen

———————

Taglist! @maddyb-rapps | @sweet-3-whispers | @moradogreen | @rayaaa4444 | @luvvcharxo | @byteme05 | @rivalriotrenegade | @1abi | @onlybatsyy | @heiankyonoeiyuukun | @dillybuggg | @am-3-thyst | @mikevi | @sadest-bookshelf

[teslasucks37]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FOR MY BIRTHDAY PLEASE DO HEAD CANNONS ARE CHARLIE TALKING YOU THROUGH IT

CW: NSFW below the cut (MDNI), Phone Sex, Dirty Talk, Nudes, Semi-Public?, afab!Reader (No pronouns), Dom!Charlie, Masturbation (Reader)

A/N: I am so sorry this is so late 😭😭😭 Happy belated birthday bb this is all for u! This may not be exactly what u asked for and it took forever for me to come up with this concept for some reason but here it is in all its glory! I have truly ascended to a higher plane.

Charlie Slimecicle x Reader

Phone Sex Hcs!!!

Charlie’s gone often, at award shows or events and what not.

And much to his dismay, he can’t always take you with him.

But when he’s sitting at an award show, missing you like always, he receives a message from you.

His face goes red as his eyes shift over his surroundings, making sure no one saw his screen.

Everyone seems immersed in their own conversations, much too engrossed in who’s nominated for what and who all showed up.

Turning the brightness down, he analyzes the picture of you, sprawled out for the camera, naked, dripping.

His cock is straining in his dress pants, but he managed to shift just enough to hide it.

Charlie’s fingers move on their own, hitting your contact and pressing the call button.

When the answering prompt comes up, you’re busy trailing teasing circles over your own clit, scrolling through pictures and videos Charlie had sent you in the past.

Your face flushes at the sudden profile picture filling your screen.

You didn’t think he would actually respond.

“Charlie? I thought you were at your awards thing.” You ask, feeling caught.

“I am.” His sly grin is nearly audible, his voice grainy and low through the phone.

You can hear the droning conversations around him, blurs of sound that you can’t make out even if you cared to.

“Then… Why did you call?” Your touch on yourself halts, wanting to be fully conscious if he actually needs something.

“I didn’t want to leave you all alone… Not when you’re so needy.”

“I- Uh… Oh.” Your grin was obvious in your tone.

“Is that okay?”

Charlie had been gone for so long, almost a week.

You’d been missing him so much and all you had to satiate yourself was old videos you’d filmed together, along with the other photos and videos.

You didn’t want to beg or seem desperate, but you were desperate.

Maybe the picture you’d sent him was meant to provoke him.

“Yeah…” You brush a hand up over your tits curiously, pinching and moving them absentmindedly as you hold the phone up to your ear with a giddy smile.

“Can I um… Keep Going?” You stutter out.

He chuckles softly at your request. “Yeah, go ahead and touch yourself, baby. Slowly…”

The sensation of his voice in your ear, almost like he was there whispering to you in person, sent shivers down your spine.

Your motions begin again around your clit, slowly, just like he asked.

You can practically hear his breath through the speaker, so soft, yet just loud enough to let you know it’s there. “I bet you look so fucking good right now… Laid out in our bed…”

It’s an intoxicating feeling, touching yourself while he talks to you.

“Are you touching your clit for me?”

You hold back a moan at his words, nodding, before realizing he can’t see you. “Mhm~”

“God, I wish I was there with you, tracing my tongue where your fingers are now.” Charlie’s voice wavers, suddenly remembering he’s still in public.

Clearing his throat, he mumbles into the phone softer. “Okay, baby. Put those fingers in that pretty cunt for me.”

Grinning, you do just as he asks.

Your fingers dip past your folds, massaging out at the perfect speed to tease you.

Because he is still teasing you.

At least he would still be if he was there.

You both know it, the speed at which you both enjoy each other.

And he’s expecting you to keep it.

So you do.

You press your fingers in and imagine they’re his, reaching so deep inside you that he doesn’t even need to add a third to have you cumming.

“Fuck, I can hear the sounds it’s making…” Charlie groans, referring to the squelching sounds your walls are making around your fingers.

Your brain becomes overwhelmed at the sounds around you, his breaths, your pussy.

“If I was there I would pound you so good…” He breathes out in an attempt to ground himself.

“Mmm~” You moan out, embarrassed at the prospect of him fucking you like he had so many times before.

“Yeah, baby? Fuck yourself harder.”

You can feel your pussy fluttering, your chest heaving, your brain going fuzzy as you speed up your movements.

You miss his cock, reaching so deep inside, like no one has ever reached, always fucking you so good.

“Charlie-“

“Does it feel good, baby?”

“Mmm~ Yes!”

You crave him, pounding into your g-spot like your fingers are right now.

Your neurons are firing, the sound of Charlie’s slightly distorted voice through the phone becoming clear, like he’s in the room watching you get off.

God, and that sets your body on fire.

“Are you gonna cum for me, baby?”

“Uh huh! Uh huh~”

“Go ahead and cum, angel~” His tone is low and dangerous, like honeyed wine, so sweet and so intoxicating.

And it sends you over the edge.

You’re thrashing, moaning, squirting, everything blurred together behind the sound of Charlie’s voice in your ear.

“So good for me…”

It was a kind of sensory depravation in its own right, being completely deprived of everything about him except his voice.

“Fuck baby, you sound so beautiful…”

It made you appreciate it so much more than usual.

Once you come down from your mountainous high, Charlie is there to greet you, whispering sweet nothings through the phone.

“Charlie~” You mumble to him, still dizzy from your intense orgasm. “I miss you…”

“I miss you too, angel. I’ll be back soon.” He promises with all the love in the world. “I have to go though, the thing is starting.”

You grin headily. “Bye bye~”

“I love you.”

“I love you~”

There’s a click and you’re alone again.

There’s an entire video online of him smiling at the award show, talking into his phone, but thankfully no one notices.

No one attempts to read his lips or even suspects for a moment that he was saying naughty things to you while you touched yourself.

You simply wait for him to return so he can put that mouth to better use.

[fbfh]

𝓗𝓮𝓱....can I request a Leo Valdez x !dense at romance! reader

HEH INDEED TUMBLR USER HIGANYUUU. as an unsocialized and neurodivergent bitch meself I LOVE the dense at romance and oblivious to flirting reader trope. dynamic. concept or whathave you.

with Leo it's even better, because he thinks his feelings for you are TOTALLY one sided. he thinks he's doomed to be forever alone, trapped in a burning maze of his on inescapable feelings. he ends up venting to Piper about this one night when they climbed on top of the roof of one of the cabins to watch the stars (or if you prefer, get a teeny tiny little bit stoned. it's a summer camp for christ's sake. the older campers have weed stashed in a few places. the demeter kids TOTALLY have a hidden little garden where they grow weed and are constantly making breaking bad jokes. in the late 80s Chiron found it but was so stressed about the possibility of nuclear war that he requested a few blunts and made them promise to never speak of it again. see also: Leo lighting up for you with his hands???? heart eyes.) he tells her all about how his crush on you is so much worse than usual. He gets infatuated easily, but gods you aren't just another fleeting crush. he truly believes he is never going to get over you. and part of him doesn't want to.

Piper laughs.

she lets out a loud snorting laugh that she immediately has to apologize for. Leo lets out his own laugh, surprised and incredulous.

"Sorry-" Piper chokes out. Leo places his hands over his heart.

"Ouch," he says, watching her as she keeps trying to apologize and stop laughing. "I'm pouring my heart out here, Pipes..."

"I know, I know," she says, finally getting it under control. "I am not laughing at you. honest." She insists. "it's just... it's kind of funny that you think that, because they're totally into you too."

he blinks at her.

"...seriously?" he asks skeptically. Piper is already nodding intently.

"oh yeah." Leo can tell she's serious, he just doesn't understand how she got from point a to point b yet.

"It's an Aphrodite thing. I can always sense when someone has a crush on someone else." she sighs softly. "the air feels... warmer when you're in love. It smells like... like rose water, and summer rain. but if it's one sided, it's like... it's almost like a heater and an air conditioner blowing at each other."

she lets out a dry, sheepish laugh.

"it took me weeks to find out that we can't use it on ourselves."

he remembers that, when they first came to camp and she was freaking out about if she and Jason actually even liked each other, or if it was just implanted memories and forced proximity.

"feeling love, raw, real love from everyone around you but the person you want it from is..."

he laughs again.

"discouraging." he finishes.

"exactly."

it's quiet for a moment.

"so..." he trails off, wondering if you really like him too. Piper scoffs and turns to look at him.

"it's like two rockets butt to butt. red hot on both ends."

he noticed it after that. he noticed the way you'd glance at him when you thought he wasn't looking, how you'd go out of your way to bump into him, or linger when you didn't have to just to be around him a little more. so he did what he does best.

he started flirting the shit out of you. but only for a day or two. after that it quickly turned into wooing, then straight up sweeping you off your feet.

Leo's attention and affection seem to come at you like a downpour (not that you're complaining). he's suddenly all over you. he's making you little trinkets, pulling stunts just to show off for you, stealing you away for walks through the woods or to show you what he's working on in bunker 9 (which is basically like asking you to marry him. if he's showing you what he's working on in bunker 9 you might as well be married with three kids and twins on the way.)

and you are just so happy to be with him. he makes you so happy, feel so warm and excited, he starts consuming your every thought. his touch lingers, warm and familiar. on your arms, your shoulders, your hands, the small of your back. wherever his hands fall on you, wherever his fingertips playfully poke or brush under the flimsy guise of a leaf getting tangled in your hair, you feel it for days afterwards.

every time he doubles down, you simply... don't pick up on it. he has to go back to Piper at least six more times to confirm you actually do want him like he desperately wants you. she finds your obliviousness so hilarious she makes everyone in the aphrodite cabin promise not to interfere - much to Leo's annoyance - just to watch this play out. whenever you and Leo are alone, you're actually alone with half the aphrodite cabin observing from afar with opera glasses and popcorn.

eventually he just bites the bullet. he takes your pretty face in his hands, he tells you he likes you, he really likes you, he like likes you. you still don't get it. he tells you he has a crush on you. you still think he's being sweet and flirty and playful. he looks you dead in the eyes and says he thinks he's falling in love with you. you're like yeah! so like... falling in love in a.... friend.... way?? he squeezes his eyes closed for a moment trying not to let his pent up feelings and cuteness aggression win. he lets out a breathy laugh and looks at you very seriously and intensely and tells you no, not quite. falling in love with you in a romantic way. and he's gonna kiss you now, okay? not a playful platonic friend kiss, a falling in love with you kiss.

and motherfucker does he deliver. he pulls you so close, his lips are so soft and warm against yours. he doesn't even bother pulling away before he goes in for more. your head is spinning and his lips and his hands are everywhere. he's pulling you into his lap and leaning over you and you're holding onto him for dear life, whining and panting into his mouth. when you both reluctantly, agonizingly have to pull away for air, he keeps his hands on your cheeks, caressing your skin, breathing in the scent of your breath, keeping his forehead pressed to yours where his soft curls tickle your face.

"do... um..." you swallow thickly, struggling to speak as your breath heaves. "d-do you, uh-"

whatever you're trying to ask, he can tell you're nervous.

"'s okay," he murmurs, kissing your cheek, your ear, your jaw. "tell me."

he encourages you so tenderly, so honestly that you feel the rare sensation of your anxiety, your fear of misinterpreting signals or overstepping or being presumptuous melt away.

"I feel like you might have maybe a little crush on me...?" you breathe out.

he freezes, his mouth still sucking hickeys into your neck, and you can feel him smile against your skin, you can feel his laugh vibrating through your body from your throat.

"that... is a huge understatement," he mumbles into your neck. "but yes. I do."

he presses one more lingering kiss right below your ear and pulls back enough to look at you again, stroking your cheek, playing with your hair.

"a really, really big little crush."

you find out later that everyone at camp fully believed you were already dating (and just really bad at soft launching). you also find out the aphrodite cabin had a whole bet pool going on about when you'd finally get together. expect to never hear the end of it.

[livelaughloveluffy]

love letter - black leg sanji

a/n: i'm starting to tackle all the requests in my inbox, so hopefully i can start posting those soon!! they definitely have not been forgotten, so do not fret if i have yet to respond to something you had sent me!!

a/n: this is a concept that has been plaguing my mind for a while now and i can't take it anymore. i was picturing a sort of long distance situation, but like honestly i just wanted to write a sickly sweet love letter. so that's what this is.

nothing but fluff here 💗

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

to my dearest,

i hope this letter finds you well.

it has been far too long since i have been able to see your face. despite the many wonders i have seen on the open ocean, none of them hold a candle to your sweet soft smile.

there's not a day that goes by without you crossing my mind. in fact, you consume my every waking thought. the memory of you has been imbedded in my heart, forever and always. you have no idea how much i long for the days when you were just an arm lengths away. looking back now, i can't help but feel as if i took it for granted, letting those days passing me by, instead of soaking them up and enjoying them.

despite the vast distance and many different oceans between us, my love for you is one that has never wavered. it's only in my deepest dreams that i find you by my side yet again, but i'm still holding out hope that they will come true.

you will always have a home in me.

with much love,

forever and always,

sanji

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

tags ♡: @vamphoria @chibinasuu @twiishaa @3v37773 @irethepotato @peachycat17 @dreamcastgirl99 @sanji-soup @suga-tofu @kcch-ns @hamhamhamtaro @raddelusionaldive @sparkyvibes @certain-tragedies @roronoazoroswife @teewon @all-by-myself98 @moonpri

want to join the taglist? click here!! (it's just been updated with more characters to choose from, if you've already filled it out before, feel free to submit it again if your heart desires!!)

enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

[romanoffsbish]

Worth the Wait

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Request | Natasha loves it when you tease, well, unless there’s nothing she can do about it… | WC: 1,896

Warnings: Minimal plot | Injury / Stitches / Blood

Smut: Free Use Referenced | Unprotected Sex (Natasha has a penis)| Breeding | Squirting | Cockwarming (KO)

18+ | Minors DNI

“Oh my god!” You shrieked as your bare midriff was pressed into the cold marble of your kitchen counter by small, callous hands; Natasha filled the gap between your bodies, and you could feel her pulsing through her boxers. “You make me so fucking hard detka,” she rasped breathlessly as she firmed her body into yours, her warm lips trailed over your cold shoulder.

Natasha loved moments like these the most, when your body gave into her touch as if it was your haven. She could feel you warming up, and pressing into her, it was a dream come true, if only not for the knock.

——

“Romanoff, we have a mission, wheels up in ten,” Tony called from behind the door, having learned his lesson from the time before. The image still haunts his mind.

You smirked at her through the glass of your kitchen window, ten seconds ago you were going to give it all to her, but now you were going to tease her. It was a promise that your face made as you twirled in her hold and kissed her lips with feigned innocence. Your deviance shown in the way you cupped her hard-on and stroked her firmly, but only for a few times.

“Behave,” you warned when you felt her kiss you with more urgency. “Y/N, we have enough time, please.”

You leaned back, removing your lips midway through the kiss and she nearly growled at your interference. “Y/N, I swear to god, if you make me go without.”

“What?” You provoked her, “What is it they’ll do?”

Natasha backed down when she saw the promise of a month in your eyes. It was a shifty illusion, deep down she knew that but she wasn’t willing to risk it.

“I’m sorry love, I just, I get so riled up when you look this delectable,” her hands softly groped your thinly veiled breasts and your gasped air brushed across her face. “Please don’t make me wait, I need you so badly.”

“No,” you affirmed, “You need to be in tip top shape baby, and fucking me beforehand will weaken your stamina. I need you back alive and well.” The redhead was two seconds from being all over you, but she saw the genuine worry in your heart through your eyes.

“When I’m home?” You grinned, and winked. “Maybe.”

“Okay,” she conceded against your lips as she pecked them. “I’d wait forever for just the promise of eventually, I love you.” You smiled like an idiot then gently pecked her lips in return. “I love you too baby.”

You had no intention on holding out, and you also knew Natasha wouldn’t wait anyways, even if her words were sickeningly sweet. The concept of no was (consensually) removed from your dynamic, she’d never cease to wear you down into the perfect place to warm her cock and you’d pant just like a bitch in heat, needy and open. Natasha left with a knowing smirk.

Hours spent worried and horny went by in a flash. In the midst of cleaning the already spotless loft up you’d stopped to take a shower, preparing yourself for the climax of your day. After getting dressed in her favorite crotchless set you took a quick set of photos. Each one was blurry in their own right, but she could see your glistening folds between your white laced, thick thighs.

Her eyes darkened with lust, fueled mostly by fresh hot anger as she caught Wanda’s eyes widening. The way her cheeks flushed red and her throat cleared it was obvious she was having thoughts about your body. It was a direct oversight on her end, but she’d blame you.

Had you not made her leave so desperate, she never would have opened the attachment without looking around first. Wanda had already made her way to the other end of the jet, preserving her peaceful trip and trying to restore her prior indifference to your body.

The redhead stormed off the jet and headed straight for your bedroom. Opting to take the stairs in hopes of being too ahead of the nervous super soldier who was fresh on her tail with an idea for what was happening.

You two were the compounds resident horndogs as Tony drunkenly deemed you both one night. The rest of the team had cheered and you were embarrassed. Yet it never stopped you two from fucking like bunnies. Nothing would ever get in her way from having you.

So Natasha wasn’t exactly having it as Steve shouted at her, the man was only urging her to get her shoulder fixed up, but she was in far worse pain elsewhere. The man truly didn’t deserve to be tossed into a wall as if he were the size of a toddler to the woman who stood a foot below him, but he was interfering with her needs.

His pride was wounded and her shoulder throbbed, but it was satisfactory when she was able to walk away without another word from the super soldier. You had heard the commotion bleed into eery silence aside from firm footsteps. The spy’s step a calculated warning, you knew you were truly fucked; you hoped.

The redhead slammed your door faster than your eyes could register it had even opened. Your eyes fell to her shoulder and her heart considerably warmed at the way your lip trembled with concern. She caught it with her teeth as she pressed you into the counter, again.

You gasped at the way the lace tickled your back, it was relatively feather light but it made your body shiver. Her tongue greeted yours in the same breath and you were gone, mind melting into a state of obliviousness. Which is why you gripped onto her shoulders, blood gushed around your thumb and you both cried. The redhead sucked in a sharp breath containing her rage, you were already in the dog house for her festering jealousy, she wouldn’t blame you for her injury too.

“Get the first aid kit,” she groaned, pulling away with a scowl as she felt anger at the unfair loss of your touch. You were quick to appease her, after washing your hands you were back with the white tin in hand.

You nearly stumbled forward, knees clanking as you barely caught yourself at the sight of your bruised lover. The wounded warrior’s look always turned you on the most, knowing she’d left to protect you, and returned with a need for your safe touch after was hot.

Natasha had stripped down to nothing, showcasing the new bruises you’d have to watch fade from black and blue to yellow and green in a days time. You were always grateful to her bodies advanced healing, but to know she was ever in pain hurt you all the same. She saw your concern, even appreciated it, but she wasn’t going to waste the lust in your eyes over the softness.

“I’ll g-go get some anesthetic from Cho,” you gulped and the redhead smirked, then her tongue clicked as her finger curled, urging you forward. “No, you won’t.”

“B-but,” you stuttered, needy eyes avoiding hers with the hope of being able to fix her up first, but her hand wrapped around your wrist and your body lurched forward until your pussy was nearly hovering her head. Her hand pulled the first aid kit from your own, and quickly laid out what you’d need on the bedside table.

Then she brought your hand down to her throbbing tip, letting you feel her desperation before she helped you to guide it to your entrance. “The only anesthesia I need is your warmth choking my cock detka, so take a seat and offer mommy some well earned relief.” Your hand squeezed over hers firmly, then it slipped off so that you could hold onto her good shoulder as you slid down, both of her hands gripped at your hips as the pleasure wrapped around her roughed up frame.

“Ride me,” she whispered hotly against your throat, you gulped against her lips, walls clenching at the thought, but for a minute you killed the mood with a hard refusal. “Let me clean you first, just a moment.”

Natasha huffed, but shut up quick as your teeth nipped at her bottom lip. Then as your warm rag rushed over her shoulder you offered her your tongue to pacify her, you felt her raspy cries with every brush or clench.

Once finished cleaning and weakly numbing the wound with some cream you found, you pecked her lips then began to stitch her up. After a few moments you found a synchronic way to tend to her every need. With each dip of the needle that was reconnecting her skin you’d rise up, then drop back down as you pulled the thread tight. Hips connecting with each finished stitch, and you finished in sync as well, the redhead nearly burst them back open as her load shot into you without more than a twitch in warning. Then yours gushed, flushing the combination down into her lap.

Natasha’s head was leaned back as she relished in her high, dick still pulsing as you sloppily applied the salve and bandage to her shoulder. Just as you finished she was back on you, her lips crashing into yours as your body melded into the plush mattress. “I’m going to make you regret making me wait detka, might finally fill you up enough to start our family. Gotta claim your womb before anyone else can try to steal it from me.”

“What?” Natasha saw your confusion but she didn’t reply with any context, just a reminder, “You’re mine.” Her teeth sunk into your shoulder, giving you a little taste of her paralleled wound as she marked you. It only made you wetter seeing her so desperate to claim you that she forgot about her ring sat on your finger.

Your wife smirked against your skin as she felt you suck her cock in even further. Your ass now sticky as your arousal oozed out of you, her green eyes found yours and you felt your breath disappear. “I hope you remember your safe words,” she winked and you were gone. “Oh shit…” There was no hope left for you now.

There were two words you called out during sex that indicated an encroaching limit. “Stop,” was a clear word, but it wasn’t transparent as this was what you called when you wanted her to push you a bit more. It was a feigned safe word, as she sped up her attempts each time. Tears streamed down your face as she pressed a bullet to your abused clit, you gasped as your back arched before it collapsed back into the mattress.

“Fuck,” is what you usually muttered when it was time for her to give you a break, but your conscious slipped just before she could hear you cry it out. In the end she chose to fall into your body, more than happy knowing that she made you squirt. She decidedly left her cock inside of you to lessen the chance of her seed oozing out. Her consciousness slipped, but in the back of her mind she dreamed that you’d wake up wanting more.

You were sure to be parents come next holiday season.

[ddeonghwa-s]

a moment between infinity .ᐟ.ᐟ

reuniting with your soulmate in the space between one life and the next.

꒰୨୧꒱— jeon wonwoo x reader

꒰୨୧꒱— wc is approx. 2.5k.

꒰୨୧꒱— genre : themes of love, romance; angst

꒰୨୧꒱— tropes : reincarnation, reuniting after life, soulmates

꒰୨୧꒱— cw : themes of life and death, discussion of physical separation, missing life events due to death, lives cut short.

꒰୨୧꒱— tw : for discussion of dying young/living life unfilled

꒰୨୧꒱— notes : thank you lexi @heechwe for beta reading! this sounds depressing but i swear there's tons of love in there!

you see wonwoo as soon as you step out from beneath the shade of a tree you don’t remember walking under. the sun, for a fleeting moment, is overly bright. it pierces your eyes with its light, horribly brilliant and blinding. 

you don’t want to look away from wonwoo; don’t want to close your eyes for even a second. 

the pain you feel from the sunlight is immense, and before you can comprehend the desire, the most rudimentary of all wants, so much so that it’s a need, you are blinking your eyes against the cruelty of the sun. 

he’s still there when you open them. 

(he wasn’t the last time you blinked at him.)

(a moment of stillness, of a deep breath taken before plunging into freezing waters; of the last gasp for clean air before being consumed by flame; of a desperate choke for life as death swings its decisive sword.)

(you remember this.)

(and yet you don’t.)

(it’s weird, you think between the pauses of forever, between one breath and the next, how everything and nothing exists so closely intertwined.)

wonwoo smiles. it isn’t that blinding smile of pure exhilaration you so distinctly remember the twelfth time as the two of you looked down from the bow of the ocean liner, waving down at the citizens of south hampton that had come to bid the ship farewell. instead it was his soft, slowly-growing smile that took you back to the second time, to that little ger on the eurasian steppe, holding your first ever son. 

wonwoo opens his arms. 

naturally you go into them. 

the world is made up of pairs, you know, the wisdom of nothing and everything, of finity and infinity, surrounding you. north and south; up and down; sky and earth; you and wonwoo. two things, concepts, beings so closely intertwined that to force one from the other is to break the thin threads of the cosmos. 

and so, like the sky embracing the earth, you go into wonwoo’s arms. 

he’s wearing the outfit you saw him last. his auburn corduroy shirt jacket smells of gasoline still (for him the last sixty years were a mere handful of hours; for you, a lifetime. and so the scent of death still sticks to him as if no time had passed at all, despite.) and when he lifts his arms to wrap them around you, to envelope you into his body, you can see the turquoise scrunchie he had kept on his wrist for you peak out from his sleeve. 

“i’m sorry,” he says. his voice is as deep as you remember. wonwoo presses his nose into your hair. you burrow your face into him, seeking out this natural scent, trying to bypass all the smells of death. “you said we didn’t need more tape, that it’d be fine.”

“i said we didn’t need tape,” you agreed. there had been moments you felt such overwhelming anger towards wonwoo for going despite you arguing otherwise. this, between nowhere and everywhere, was void of such feelings. instead you pressed your nose deeper and deeper, hands grabbing at his shirt. 

“i wanted to make sure we could finish wrapping presents before your mother arrived,” wonwoo said. “i wanted everything to be perfect.”

they found a ring on him, after; a simple silver band and diamond. 

“i know.” 

you shifted. 

wonwoo sighs into your hair. “i’m sorry. i wish – i have a thousand wishes. a thousand wishes for a thousand lifetimes. would you ever forgive me?”

you hum. you think of a land impossibly far, of a lifetime where you sobbed as wonwoo explained he had to leave, had to fight; how easy it was for you to resume that rage once he returned from the war, missing an arm and a chunk of his ear but still breathing and smiling. 

(sometimes he didn’t return.)

(sometimes you didn’t return.)

(those times, you knew, were seldomly seen. your universes, your forevers, were large, ever-expanding tapestries sewn by the threads of your lives. more often than not, nearly always, the threads revealed a beautiful picture of life and love and contentment; of a small forever trapped within a shared lifetime.)

(seldomly did the threads show another picture.)

(you think back to that ocean liner. to how cold it was; to how he disappeared for a heavier jacket and never returned, to how you slipped and fell and were submerged in a cold unlike any other –) 

“i forgive you each and every time,” you mumble into his shir.t. “just as you do me. i don’t think we’d have as many lifetimes together if we didn’t at least like one another.”

“ew,” he says, voice still gentle despite the teasing sentiment of his words, “you like me?”

as if you hadn’t fallin in love with wonwoo for fifteen generations in a row; as if your soul hadn’t sought his; as if you didn’t press yourself into his arms with every breath between lives, trying to memorize his scent and soul before the both of you take the plunge into the next life. 

“you have to stay with me next time,” you say. you try to keep your voice from cracking; it doesn’t work. you’ve shed a million tears for a million lifetimes – fifteen, to be exact, but math isn’t the sort of thing one worries about in places like this, places where everything of the past exists and nothing of the future; where you bear the weight of fifteen lifetimes on your shoulders knowing none of it will matter. 

“you can’t leave me,” you cry into his shirt. you can feel his chest heave underneath you, can feel the earth and not-earth shift beneath the two of you as wonwoo wraps you tighter in his arms. “you can’t leave me this time. not to fight a war that isn’t yours; to get a jacket; to pick up tape. you can’t leave me alone. i can’t handle another lifetime without you.”

wonwoo’s sob is the quiet, heart-wrenching of one that bubbles out despite all attempts to quell it. you can feel his body lurch against you from the force of it. his weeping is ugly, the sounds of his gasps in your ear loud and wholy unpleasant. 

the two of you cry against one another, clutching at one another. you’ve lived more lives together than apart, have memorized the wrinkles that line the corners of his eyes the older he gets, have learned the breathing patterns of his sleep. 

but still – 

the thought of parting is one you never bear. perhaps if you were a stronger soul it would be easier; perhaps if your soul loved his less it would be easier. 

you think back to the past sixty years. and then you think of your lives from the far past. only a few had forced either of you to live without the other, but the pain of them drowns out the happiness of any other. happiness, you have learned, is a golden thing that only seems to truly glow when the moment has long past, when you look back and think ah, that was an evening well spent. 

pain, on the other hand, is brilliant and loud and sharp. it demands its victim to focus on it. and so despite the lives you and wonwoo have spent beside one another, growing to old, shriveled ages in contentment, the pain of loneliness, of the heartbreak of knowing you would lie without the other half of your small universe, of living without your moon or sk or true north, of the other half of your pair that made up the galaxies and cosmos; of knowing you would never be whole. 

that is why the two of you cry. 

“i won’t leave you,” wonwoo promises. neither of you mention how the promise is empty. he cannot and will not remember any word said in this infinite space, during this small and endless moment between infinity. 

he won’t remember the press of your body against his. he won’t remember how you’re crying against him, how he vows to you, himself, and the universe he won’t leave you stranded in a lifetime again. 

(you remember the first lifetime. you remember the tall grasses of your village, of how you and wonwoo would duck down into them to press full-mouthed kisses to one another’s skin, ignorant and naive and happy in your first life. 

you force yourself not to remember how it felt when your uncle agreed to your marriage to a village that would take nearly a year for you to travel to. how it felt to know that despite the fact your love for wonwoo was greater than any force in the cosmos the two of you still answered to those on earth.

you had promised yourself you would never leave him again. that your second lifetime and all the ones after it would be spent at his side and no one else’s.

you promise yourself this once more. 

the universe says nothing in reply.)

wonwoo leans back, sniffling. his nose is red. he raises his hands up to your face, shaking. when wonwoo kisses you it’s wet and there’s spit and snot, but you lean into it as if it were the sealing kiss of a wedding.

“tell me what you loved,” he begs. “you loved after me. tell me.”

you nod. heartbreak lasts forever, and so does love. love is not something that begins and ends with one person; it is everlasting and multifaceted, existing in the smallest, most inconsequential of things. 

“jungkookie got me a puppy,” you say, voice still wet from crying. “i told him it was too much, that i didn’t have the energy for it. he said that was what i needed.”

wonwoo grinned at the mention of his brother. he leaned forward, tucking his forehead into your neck. “what was it’s name?”

“it was a mutt,” you say, “but i remembered how much you love that movie, the fox and the hound. so i named it copper.

“it was black,” you carry on, grinning at wonwoo’s chuckles that he presses into your skin. “jungkookie said it was a lab-shepherd mix. i couldn’t tell the difference.”

“copper the black pup,” wonwoo says. “what else?”

the sun is gentle in its caresses against your flesh, the breeze sweet in its dance. you and wonwoo settle against grass, curling into one another. you can’t raise your voice too much due to the close proximity, and so each word is a tender thing. 

you tell wonwoo of the red forbidden palace jungkook’s son took you to see during a school trip and how, despite the fact you could hear cars honking, it felt as if you were transported hundreds of years into the past. 

you tell wonwoo about the little bookstore that opened up next to his father’s dentist shop. of the tall, towering bookcases; of the cats that lived within; how as soon as you stepped inside you were met with the smell of real wood. 

you tell wonwoo of a little stray kitten you found in your forties, of how you named it romeo for how clingy it was. 

(“i still say we should’ve forced that bastard to write in an acknowledgement that it was our story he was writing,” wonwoo says, tracing the curve of your cheek. “he gets far too much recognition for his genius as it is.”)

he laughs when you tell him about seeing warwick castle for the first time in this lifetime, about the feeling of having been there despite not remembering. he teases you for it with memories of your tenth lifetime, of running down stone halls with you. 

“we’ll go again,” he says. he presses his nose against yours. you grab his hand, lacing your fingers together. “we can get married there just like we did back then.”

you huff a laugh. “if it’s still there. you said that about persepolis.”

“how was i to know that damned macedonian prince would burn it to the ground,” wonwoo laughs. he grows somber, staring at you with deep brown eyes. “how much time do you think has passed?”

you shrug, thinking. time exists and it doesn’t. here, in this sunny pasture, it’s as if time doesn’t exist at all. that cannot be said for when you wake. 

either a year has passed or two hundred; this cannot be said for sure. 

you and wonwoo both were born within five years after the sinking of the titanic, of dying those horribly cold and wet deaths. you died, the two of you would later realize, thirty years before the destruction of persepolis and were reborn five hundred years later. 

and so that is how time flows. 

“well,” wonwoo says, “it’s not like it matters.”

“no?”

“as long as there’s still trees and air we’ll be okay.”

you gasp, having expected something horribly romantic. you’re not sure why you expected this. you gently shove his shoulder all the same, scolding wonwoo for his jest. 

later, though neither of you can say how much time later, you stare up at the sky. the clouds move. the sun keeps at the same position. 

“when do you think we’ll find one another?”

“you know we can’t decide that.”

“guess anyways,” you demand. 

wonwoo wiggles against the dirt. “you’ll move schools in high school,” he announces, “and i’ll be utterly bewitched by the new girl. she’ll be beautiful and sweet, and i won’t say anything at all.”

“that’s not a very good love story.”

“but then we’ll meet again,” he carries on, eyes tracing the fluffy curves of a cloud. “and i’ll be older and more confident. it’ll be at a college bar. you’ll still be beautiful, of course. and i’ll go up to you and say ‘hey, i knew you in high school.’ you’ll smile at me despite not quite remembering. then we’ll meet again and again, and our lives will become intertwined.”

you look at the blue infinity above you as if it could reveal anything. you wanted to know the secrets of it; how to live for forever with wonwoo, how to meet him earlier and spare no time loving one another. 

you want there to be a forever of this. of being by wonwoo’s side, of having him there beside you. you don’t know how many years you’ve spent without him in total; how many have been spent with him. whatever the answers are, you know it’s either too many or too few. 

there’s somewhere, you want to believe, where you and wonwoo can spend eternity side by side without separation; without life or death pulling you from each other’s side. there’s somewhere, you have to believe, where you can spend every happy moment with wonwoo. where you don’t have to spend this small infinity telling him about the little joys you’ve encountered in the years since he’s passed. 

you close your eyes. you can feel tears sting at the corners of them. the breeze muses your hair. all you want is to be with him, to have him at your side, to hold his hand every day and for the rest of the days. 

where your promises if i won’t leave you mean something, where they do more than just shift the air around you. 

you take a deep breath, filling your lungs with pure air. 

and then

[writingwisterias]

Hellooo

so, we always talk about Leon being a girl’s dad and his daughter being a daddy’s girl and all. Which I totally agree he would be such a girl dad. Now, how about a fic, where reader feels like she doesn’t have that kind of bond with their daughter, and she gets insecure about it, and then there’s a whole comfort scene.

anyway I’ve been think way too much since I can’t sleep shit. Love y’all folks. Stay hydrated, drink smut

HII!

This is such an interesting concept, I was so excited to write this! I wanted to do it properly sorry it's late!

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Leon being the best husband, Fluff, Established relationship Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Reader

A bond between mother and child could never be broken, that’s what everyone told you after all. At first, it seemed true. Your connection was instant, your love never wavering despite each temper tantrum or sleepiness night she gave you. Leon loved watching the two of you interact; between the soft coos of your voice as you comforted her or her giggles when you played. It was worth it, all the years he had spent fighting, all the months you had both spent trying for this chance. It was all worth the lack of space in his phone gallery as they filled up with candid photos of the two of you. But as all girls did the older she got, turning from baby to toddler she leaned more towards her daddy.

You shouldn’t feel jealous, she was attached to your hip for so long it was his turn to relish the feeling of her love. To create the bond he needed that would shape her entire childhood. Yet, it didn’t stop the waves of jealousy as she ran to him in greeting abandoning whatever she was doing with you. It hurt - no matter how hard you tried to hide it; it never stopped it from feeling true.

Was it you? Did you do something wrong? The questions were never-ending.

Perhaps you were tired today or maybe it was close to the time of the month but you couldn't hide it. Not from Leon. He watched your expression turn sour, feeling guilty as no matter what he tried to do your daughter just wanted to hang out with him. His heart broke as he walked back into the front room at the sight of you on the sofa watching the cartoons with tears in your eyes. You were so selfless to keep this hidden from him, the jealousy that you beat yourself up about. He didn’t care, it was only fair for you to feel this way. After all, you had spent so long creating a bond through nursing and sleepless nights. Caring for her when he wasn’t around because of work. 

Leon sat down next to you wordlessly, his hand coming to rest on your leg that was outstretched on the sofa. He was always good at silent support; forever understanding that if you wanted to talk about it you would eventually. His thumb rubbed soothing motions on your leg, following the curves of your ankles. “Why doesn’t she love me anymore?” You whispered, hating the words instantly as soon as they left your mouth. He took a while to respond, choosing to formulate his words correctly without upsetting you further. “She does. She’s never stopped” He replied. 

He was right, Leon was always right. You knew she never stopped. She always came to you when she hurt herself or needed an extra big snuggle as you watched a film. Needing the safety of your arms instead of Leons. It wasn't like you were completely ignored by her when he was home but it was the little things you missed when he was. “Why does it feel like she does? I don’t mean to feel like this...to be so...jealous but it hurts when she doesn’t want me to say goodnight and tuck her in anymore” 

Leon knew exactly why she was like this when he was home and it was simply for that reason. Due to his job, he was barely here, so the little girl you both loved so deeply wants all her daddy’s attention before he goes again. It hurts for you when he’s home for longer periods like this because it’s a change in routine - not just for her but for you as well.

“It’s only because I’m home love. When I have to leave again she’ll come running back to her mommy” He reasoned. You turned to look at him before sitting up straighter. He smiled as your form tucked into his, hiding away from the world in the crook of his neck. Guilt washed over you at his words, for feeling like this when he’s back. It’s not his fault she’s growing into a Daddy’s girl. If anyone knew how loveable Leon was it’s you. 

“Maybe we can all go out to a little farm tomorrow? We can be like those cringe couples and swing her in between us as we walk” He teased. Your smile was bright as it grew on his features, your chuckle teasing against his neck. You nodded. “Sounds like fun, at least she’ll drag you around to pet all the stinky animals” 

“I suppose that a positive for you then” 

"You can deal with bath time too if she gets all muddy"

Leon laughed, his chuckle vibrating through you as it erupted from his chest. "I see how it is now, You'll get all the cuddles after I'm the mean one that washed her hair" He teased. You never knew how he did it. Comforted you, and ensured that you felt like your feelings were validated despite the situation. You felt bad his connection with her was limited and the fact you grew jealous over the few weeks he got with her compared to every day you got. In the grand scheme of things you both loved her with your heart in very different ways and she needed both of you to be happy.

[ssweeterthanfiction]

Questions Questions

finnick odair x fem apprentice stylist reader summary: finnick skipping training to talk to you

masterlist

The sun beamed through the tall windows, the light making the ocean blue fabric shimmer. You were in the District 4 suite working on one of the many versions of an interview outfit that your mentor, Lucida, had conjured up for the male tribute of four.

Finnick Odair.

The boy that had been taking up all your thoughts.

Even though you'd only known him for about 2 days, he already was the only thing you could think about, but you had no idea why.

You adjusted the fabric, trying to focus on sewing, but your thoughts kept drifting back to him. His smile. His eyes. Everything about him.

You were lost in your thoughts til you heard the door creak open.

"Whatcha working on?"

Startled, your body jumps and your head whips around to see who was behind you.

It was him.

"Finnick! You scared me!"

He grins sheepishly, "Sorry, didn't mean to sneak up on you" he says, walking over to your work table and perching himself on it.

"Shouldn't you be at training?" you say as you smooth the fabric out.

"I was, but it’s… well, it’s just...boring. So I thought I’d come see you instead"

You look up at him, awkwardness filling the room.

"I’m sure Mags won’t be happy about that"

"Probably not," Finnick mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s fidgeting now, clearly unsure of what to do with himself. "But I don’t really mind."

You glance at the floor, and then back at Finnick, unsure of what to say. Finnick breaks the silence by poking at a pile of fabric beside you.

"So, uh… what is all this for?" He picks up a sparkly swatch and twirls it between his fingers. "Something for me?"

You nod, "It's a concept for your interview outfit...Lucida wanted something that reflected what the ocean is like"

Finnick nods, "I, uh, I guess you must really like doing this stuff. Designing outfits and all," he says, "You, uh... you always look so focused when you draw"

You smile and nod, "I do..I love designing..."

Silence fills the room again, Finnick nervously plays with the fabric and you try threading some string through a needle.

You want to keep talking to him, but you just don't know what to say.

“So, if you could pick anything for me to wear... what would it be?” Finnick blurts out.

"Uh- I dunno...maybe just...something that you're comfortable in, so just something- simple. Cause you don't need anything fancy....you already stand out"

Finnick smiles and you hear him laugh, for some reason, it makes your heart race.

You both continued talking, the awkwardness slowly fading into something more natural, as if the two of you were finally settling into each other's presence. Each moment with him felt like it came naturally, and soon, you were laughing about some of the ridiculous things Lucida had insisted on for his outfits.

"Y'know she wanted to make you like this...huge fish tail for the parade" you say as you laugh.

"Really?"

You nod, "I had to convince her that some people wouldn't want to see a big fish on a chariot"

Finnick laughs, "Well...thank you for convincing her."

The conversation then lulled, Finnick’s voice took on a softer tone, as if he was thinking carefully about the next words.

“So... what’s it like?” he asked, his eyes catching yours, suddenly more serious.

You raised an eyebrow. "What’s what like?"

"Growing up here...in the Capitol. What's it like?"

"It’s kind of overwhelming, honestly, the people are loud and flashy, nothing ever stops. There's always something new to buy, always something new to see, but it feels kind of… fake sometimes. Like it’s all about impressing each other...but- I can't really complain..not when- well y'know."

Finnick nods and carefully fidgets with the fabric on the table again.

"What's district four like?"

Finnick looks up at you, his eyes lighting up. "It's a lot different from the Capitol. The ocean is so big it feels like it goes on forever. The water is salty and cold, but when the sun hits it, it sparkles like glass. And when you dive in… it’s like the rest of the world disappears.”

"I've never been to the ocean before...I've only pictures. I wish I could see it."

"You’d love it." he whispers, "Maybe I could take you there someday."

You look up at him, unsure of what to say.

Finnick abruptly stands up, "I should probably get back before Mags comes looking for me," he says, scratching the back of his neck.

You smile and nod, "Good idea."

As Finnick heads for the door, he pauses, turning back.

"I should skip training again," he says, his grin returning. "I like talking to you."

Before you can say anything, he leaves. Leaving you alone in the room, your heart pounding against your chest and your head spinning.

Why did you feel this way around him?

A/N: my cuties ☹️