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pwettybbybunny · 1 year ago

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E-Whore (GN! Lewd Streamer Reader x HSR men with lewd intentions

Veritas Ratio | Sunday | Blade | Jing Yuan (different scenarios for each men ♡)

Kinda degrading terms used for reader simply because he would do it canonically, and i have a humiliation kink

Being a Trailblazer is amazing, but since it technically made you jobless, you needed some way to fund your shopping sprees when you visit new planets, so while some of your crewmates resort to farming calyx, you chose the easy way.

You had a hot body and you knew how to use it, making you an instant hit on the streaming site, moreover, as the site connected to servers in multiple galaxies, the chances of anyone you knew or will meet in real life knowing your side hustle are slim enough to never happen, right?

Wrong.

Despite Dr Ratio being a man of virtue and self-righteousness, he still has his moments where he is simply Veritas, a man with urges, annoying urges, and hormones that hinder his progress and goals, and despite him being able to overcome those distractions most days, today simply wasn't one of them.

So he reluctantly laid on his bed, putting up whatever porno that could get him going, till his eyes wandered out on the pesky ads flashing on the screen, beside the video he was jacking off to.

An ad for a streaming site, displaying a 'currently live' bouncy little thing stuffing their holes with a sizable vibrating dildo while making the cutest aroused faces as their body shuddered in pleasure. And out of character for him, his fingers automatically pressed on the link before his brain could even process it, as he got redirected to the streaming site.

Blink.

"Ohh", he let out audibly, as he felt his dick twitch. It's you, the troublesome little trailblazer that was too foolish and defiant to hear out about their own stupidity, pouting and calling him pretentious (although that one was because of his mask), for when he told you 'how you're a hindrance for the work environment' when he first saw you in Herta's space station prancing around mindlessly, flirting and greeting the scientists during their working hours.

And now here you are, not only are you a pesky idiot, but also, a whore spreading their legs on camera for the whole world to see. But despite how low he thought of you, god did you look so good.

He let out low grunts, as he pumped the length of his shafts, pleased by the soft moans you were making on-screen, cute little whore, whining as a customer sent you a paid request to increase the vibration level, adoring the way your body shuddered.

So, stripping himself of his morals, he opened the token store, fingers moving as fast as possible to finish the payment as his fist was getting tainted by his precum as he sent you a tip, immediately hiking up to the stream's top donor, and despite him never consumed any lewd stream before the way your face lit up when you saw the big tip made him shiver in pleasure, ejaculating hard as you moaned out 'Ver' his username he put up in a hurry.

He laid there for a few minutes his mind hazy, and the post nut clarity hitting in hard, he really spent his money on an e-whore, him, the esteemed doctor ratio wasting his money just to hear you moan out his name.

And the worst of it was he knew he would do it again.

(Ps - He will call you whore or generally call your activities in private when he see you again irl)

#honkai star rail #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x you #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr dr ratio x you #hsr #dr ratio #veritas x reader #veritas ratio #hsr veritas #hsr ratio x reader #veritas ratio x reader #veritas ratio x you #mdni #18+ mdni

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eepamaawo · 2 months ago

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barbershop

sylus x barber!reader, gender neutral, sfw, hc format

this brainworm inserted by @whatthe-lads-aredoing (this post) y'all are wicked, I was trying to sleep

- You own the most renowned barbershop in the n109 zone. Your clientele spans the entire food chain in the ruthless city you call home - from street dwellers to the suits near the top, you cater to them all. Even so, you never expected him to stroll into your shop one day.

- There were only hushed rumours about what the man who'd declared himself the king of this lawless place looked like, but you knew the instant you laid eyes on him. Absolute authority and power rolled off of him in waves. Wordlessly, your clients got up and left, their haircuts in various stages of completion, leaving you alone with him. He regards you with an even gaze. Waiting for you to make the first move.

- Your mind races to every transaction and conversation you've had. No missed loan payments, and no information told by clients that could be of interest. Everything is screaming at you to turn tail and run, but something about the way he looks at you keeps you standing there. As if he's expecting that exact reaction.

- The rational part of you that's kept you grounded and built your sharp business acumen reasons with you: There is nothing that he could possibly want from you, other than the one thing you can do. That you know you're the best at.

- Clearing your throat, you steady yourself and speak. "Welcome. What can I do for you?" There's a tremor in your hands. His eyes flick down to them. You don't bother to hide it.

- A slow and subtle smile grows on his face. "I'm looking to get a trim. My hair's a bit overgrown, as you can see." His low, smooth voice sends unwelcome shivers down your spine.

- You force your brain to enter work mode. Not think about who exactly you're about to give a damned hair cut to. "Sure. Help yourself to a seat and I'll be with you in a bit." You turn around and reset your tray of tools, and you hear a soft rustling from behind as he eases himself into a chair.

- You were on full alert the entire time, but the cut itself was uneventful. After confirming what he wanted in a brief exchange, Sylus doesn't speak again. The silence is more than a little unsettling, but it allows you to focus on your work. You try to ignore the strange feeling in your stomach as you handle the silky, silver-white strands of his hair. And you definitely don't acknowledge the way it churns when your eyes meet in the mirror.

- "All done." You angle your handheld mirror to show him the back, and he studies it for a moment before nodding curtly. Once you unclasp the cape, he gets up, and you feel a strange sense of vertigo as he towers over you.

- "Good work." With that, he turns and walks to the exit, placing a thick stack of bills on the counter before leaving into the night.

- Your clientele tripled after the word spread like wildfire that Sylus himself had gotten a haircut at your shop, and that you'd managed to have a meeting with this man who was like Death himself and *survived.* To be honest, you hadn't processed it at all, and you were happy to throw yourself into work to continue pretending like everything was fine.

- You didn't need to work that hard. Just for that one trim, he'd paid you enough to cover all of your expenses and then some. Enough to last until he came again, exactly three months later.

+++

a/n. tbc? maybe?? I just needed this to exit my brain asap

#sylus #love and deepspace #sylus x reader

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nctsworld · 2 years ago

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at your earliest convenience

✩‌ haechan x reader | fluff | 1.3k

SUMMARY | in which haechan is always your one (and annoying) late-night customer at the 24/7 convenience store you work at and one evening, he forgets his wallet. in lieu of payment, he asks if he can take you out on a date instead. // part of the connection series

WARNINGS | slightly insecure reader, none really!

RATING | teen+

AUTHOR'S NOTE | please check out (and maybe send in some prompt requests) @nctpromptmeme!

You ring him up, like clockwork.

The scanner picks up a bag of the Korean brand onion rings, two Red Bulls, and an instant noodle cup.

He’s the only consistent man in your life, ignoring the fact that the sole reason why he’s in your life is because he always comes into the 24/7 convenience store you work at during late, sometimes ungodly, hours. Tonight, it’s not that bad: 1:53am.

Rarely, no one else strolls in during your shift (and you’re grateful it’s a safe neighbourhood).

However, this young man lives to make your shift a painful one.

Usually with ruffled hair, transparent-framed glasses, and a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, he saunters in as if he owns the store, often swinging his keys or obnoxiously whistling along to the song playing in the background. From the moment he steps into the store, his existence alone irks you.

Unsurprisingly, he then takes a solid ten minutes on average (yes, you’ve timed it) to buy his items. Whistling evolves into screeches or emphatic oohs and aahs. Sometimes, he even narrates the entire process, as if he's the main character in a show. And yet, despite it all, he ends up buying the same rotation of his favourite items.

If not the onion rings, the shrimp crackers. If not the Red Bulls, the bottles of Monster instead. He may be grabbing one cup of noodles tonight, but other times it’s three. Potentially even a completely different brand, if he’s feeling adventurous.

On that note, predictability is in his nature. You plead internally for him to live a little, to maybe even spice up his night with a little change, for crying out loud. Heck, maybe even change the grey or black t-shirt he always wears to a shade that’s not a neutral tone or to put on a jacket for once.

And the cherry on top is the constant annoying smirk he flashes when you tell him his total.

You want to punch it off his face, smear it across the shiny floors with the dirty mop water you use at the beginning and end of shift.

“How are you doing tonight, gorgeous?” he asks. Sometimes gorgeous is replaced with beautiful or cutie. It only adds to his annoyance of regularity and you have an itch he does this all the time with others, making you not take his typical endearing terms seriously.

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “I’m not gorgeous, but, as always, thank you for the compliment.”

His smirk melts, and you catch yourself feeling a tinge of something as his features soften.

“You are, though,” your regular says. You quickly glance up, wondering if that pout and look in his eyes are genuine. “You know that I call you gorgeous because I mean it, right?”

You’re unsure how to react, so you give a small nod and repeat the total, softly this time.

There’s a beat when the man gets lost in thought, but the moment quickly fades. He reaches into his sweatpants. However, he stops abruptly, before he reaches in again and pats the outside of his other pockets.

“Fuck,” he hisses. You realize two things: one, you’ve never heard him curse; and two, he doesn’t have his wallet.

Well, that surely is different than usual.

Instinctively, you pull the snacks toward you.

“Don’t you dare think I’m letting you walk away with everything for free,” you say, half-jokingly. Even though you’re 80% certain you can trust him, you still don’t know what he’s like.

He smiles sweetly, quite differently than his smirks, forcing you to admit he’s handsome (just a little). “How could you expect me to stoop that low?” he whine-asks, clutching his chest in pain.

After a moment of staring up at the ceiling in thought with his tongue running against his lower teeth, a Cheshire grin spreads over his face and he raises an eyebrow.

You don’t like it one bit and regret the moment earlier, mentally punching yourself for finding him a tiny bit attractive.

“How about…”—he pauses as he rhythmically taps his fingers onto the counter—“...you let me take you out on a date in exchange for these items?”

A scoff releases into the air. “Are you really telling me I’m only worth $11.87?”

“What—no! Of course not,” he flicks a wrist upward in annoyance, then gestures to himself. “A date with me is worth way more in value, so you’ll be getting a better bargain.”

You could not believe this guy. “Is a date with you really going to be worth it?”

“Look,” he leans in over the counter and you catch a whiff of a light, woody scent. You fight off the desire to deeply inhale it. “No matter where we go or what happens, I’ll make sure you’ll be happy by the end of it. Isn’t that worth taking the risk of losing $11.87?”

Squinting your eyes at him, while still clutching the goods he wants, you start to warm-up to the idea since you don’t have anything to lose (but maybe that’s due to the influence of his slightly intoxicating aura).

“Will you choose the date location?” you ask, guarded.

He shakes his head. “Everything will be up to you and I’ll try to accommodate my schedule as best as I can.”

You raise an eyebrow, challenging him. “And what if I want to go to the most expensive restaurant in town?”

Without hesitation, he nods. “Then we’ll go to the most expensive restaurant in town.”

“If I wanted to order the $130 steak?”

“$130 steak it is.”

“If I—”

The cute (you can’t deny it at this point) stranger cuts you off with a raise of his hand. God, you hate how cocky he is.

Suddenly, he holds out a hand, sticking his pinky finger up. He waggles it, and you realize he’s waiting for you to do the same. You curl a pinky around his.

“There. I promise you—cross my heart and swear on my mother’s life—that I’ll uphold and adhere to whatever date conditions you ask of me.” He straightens, stepping away from the counter. “Now, can I please have my snacks and drinks?”

The events of tonight took quite a turn. Never in a million years would you think Mr. Predictability would ask you out on a date, let alone be pretty sweet about it.

Perhaps there’s more to him than you thought.

You hand him your phone, and he does the same.

When he gives it back, you shake your head at the text he sent and the name he gave himself.

“Hyuck?” you ask, unfamiliar with the name.

“Short for Donghyuck, but yes, beautiful?”

You turn your phone towards him in disbelief. “What’s with the heart next to your name?”

He shrugs, flashing you another smug smile. “What about it?”

Glancing down at his phone, he beams. You wonder if it’s because you wrote the following in brackets after your name: You Owe Me a Date Worth More than $11.87.

“And your name is just as beautiful as you are.”

Again, another eye roll. You wonder if the date will be filled with more of it. You shove the stuff towards him.

“I have to know: do those lines really work?”

“Well, I have a date lined up with you, so you tell me.”

Before you have a chance to retort, he grabs something out from his pocket.

A wallet.

His motherfucking wallet, and he has the audacity to toss a $20 bill onto the counter with the same grin that you still want to wipe the floor with. Your jaw hangs.

“Keep the change,” he says, along with your name and grants you a wink as he grabs his items.

“I’ll be seeing you on our date soon, gorgeous.”

AUTHOR'S ENDING NOTE

thank you for reading! i've been getting so much love for this - y'all are amazing. if you would like to read an informal continuation, see here!

#yn brainrot #haechan fluff #haechan x reader #haechan scenarios #haechan imagines #haechan fanfic #nct fluff #nct x reader #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 fanfic #nct dream fluff #nct dream fanfic #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios

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aldryrththerainbowheart · 2 months ago

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Chapter 3: Denial and Discovery

Warning: This man manhandling you 🫠🥵😵

Ever since you woke up that chilly Tuesday morning, you felt something was off. The sirens outside were more prevalent than usual, the garbage man haven’t arrived as usual, and your wifi was gone. You assumed it was just another disastrous day in the world’s most dangerous city, but you soon learned that it’s much more than that. On your way to work, you had a chance to discover city’s chaos.

The bus, packed with the usual Tuesday morning crowd, lurched to a sudden, screeching halt. The abrupt stop sent you flying forward, your forehead connecting with the unyielding plastic of the seat in front. A collective groan, a symphony of commuter misery, rippled through the vehicle. "What the hell?" someone grumbled, their voice laced with frustration. The driver's voice, usually a monotonous drone, crackled with an unusual urgency over the intercom. "Folks, looks like we've got some kind of…system-wide malfunction. The city's going haywire. All the systems are down. We're stuck here for now.”

Your gut clenched. This wasn't just a momentary lapse in the city's technological infrastructure. This was something far more deliberate, more insidious. This was the kind of meticulously orchestrated digital disruption you'd only witnessed in dystopian movies. The kind that…well, the kind you knew how to do. But it was the kind of thing you would never actually do. The thought sent a shiver down your spine.

You had to get to Byte Me. Mark would be panicking. You pushed my way off the bus, joining the throng of frustrated commuters spilling onto the street. The city was a mess. Traffic lights blinked erratically, causing gridlock. Digital billboards flashed static. Even the automatic doors of shops seemed possessed, shuddering open and closed at random.

Each malfunctioning piece of tech was a nail in the coffin of your apprehension. This was bad. Really bad.

Reaching Byte Me, you fumbled with the keys, your hands shaking. The bell above the door jingled as you pushed it open. "Mark?" You called out, half expecting him to be buried under a mountain of frantic customers.

The shop was empty.

You phone buzzed. An unfamiliar number. I answered it hesitantly.

"Hello?"

A woman's voice, thick with tears and choked with sobs, filled your ear. "(Y/N)? It's… it's Mark's wife, Sarah. He… he was in a car accident. The traffic lights… they weren't working… he lost control and crashed. He’s at Gotham General. He won’t be coming to work…for a while…" The sentence hung in the air, a devastating blow that stole the breath from your lungs.

The phone slipped from your numb fingers, clattering onto the counter, the sound echoing the shattering of your world. Mark. Mark was in the hospital, possibly fighting for his life, because of this digital chaos. The abstract fear you'd been wrestling with, the intellectual understanding of the disaster unfolding, suddenly solidified into a cold, heavy weight in your chest, a crushing burden of guilt and dread. This wasn't just a city-wide malfunction; it was personal. And you had a terrible feeling that you might be somehow responsible.

The rest of the day dissolved into a chaotic, indistinct haze. Byte Me, usually a sanctuary of quiet tinkering and the comforting hum of electronics, transformed into a pressure cooker, the air thick with anxiety and the frenetic energy of a digital emergency. The phone rang incessantly, a relentless chorus of distress calls that grated on your already frayed nerves. Each one was a desperate plea, a frantic cry for help to fix a broken link in the collapsing digital chain that held Gotham together. Small businesses, unable to process payments, teetered on the brink of ruin. Homes were left vulnerable, their smart security systems rendered useless, turning safe havens into potential targets. People were losing their livelihoods, their ability to provide for their families ripped away in an instant.

You worked until your fingers were raw, the tips stinging from constant typing and re-wiring. Your eyes burned, gritty and bloodshot, from staring at the flickering screens for hours on end. You felt like a lone sailor desperately trying to stem a raging tide with a leaky bucket, the sheer volume of the problem overwhelming you. Guilt, cold and heavy, gnawed at you from the inside out. Were you somehow involved in this catastrophe? Was Whispernet somehow responsible for the city’s collapse? Did one of your informants misused your services?

Hours after closing, the streetlights flickering outside cast long, distorted shadows across the shop. You hunched over my monitor, navigating the dark web, chasing whispers and rumors. The air hung thick with unease, a premonition you couldn't shake.

Hours after closing, the streetlights outside cast long, distorted shadows across the shop floor, turning familiar tools and equipment into menacing silhouettes. The only light came from the glow of your monitor, illuminating the obsessive concentration etched on your face. You hunched over your keyboard, navigating the serpentine pathways of the dark web, chasing whispers and rumors, hunting for any clue that could explain the digital apocalypse unfolding around you. The air hung thick with unease, heavy with an unspoken dread. It was more than just the stress of the day; it was a premonition, a dark feeling deep in your gut that you couldn't shake off. Something even worse was coming

Crack!

The sound ripped through the silence, making me jump. The front door had been forced open with one hit.

My heart hammered against my ribs. Thugs. Gotham was overrun with them, especially after a night like this. You scrambled behind the counter, your hand closing around the familiar grip of the baseball bat you kept for emergencies.

"Hello?" you called out, your voice trembling. "I have a bat, and I'm not afraid to use it!" Liar. You were terrified.

The figure moved closer, a hulking silhouette framed by the flickering neon sign outside, casting long, distorted shadows across the already cluttered shop. Panic seized you. You swung blindly, aiming for where Iyou thought the head might be.

The bat connected with… something solid. A grunt, more of surprise than pain. Then, a swift, strong movement, and the bat was ripped from your grasp. The force nearly threw you off balance. Old Bessie clattered to the floor, abandoned and useless.

You stumbled back, fear paralyzing me. You couldn't move, couldn't breathe. The figure stepped fully into the dim light filtering from the single working fluorescent tube overhead, and your breath hitched in your throat. It wasn't a thug. Not exactly.

Red Hood.

He was real. Standing right there, in your shop. You'd seen him on the news, read the talks online, heard the rumors swirling through the underworld. A vigilante, some said. A merciless killer, others claimed. Either way, he was a myth made flesh, a nightmare walking into your reality. And he looked pissed.

“We need to talk."

He was a figure sculpted from shadows and anger. His presence filled the room, a palpable threat that sent a shiver down your spine despite the layers of firewalls you usually hid behind.

He growled, his voice distorted by the helmet's modulator. "These attacks, their comms are routed through your system. You're behind this, aren't you?"

"I run a service," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "People use it. I don't control what they say." My mind raced. Deny. Deny everything. That was my only hope. "I just… I fix computers. Broken screens, fried motherboards, viruses… that's it.”

Jason’s mask didn’t betray his emotions, but his body language screamed disbelief. He took a step closer, and I could feel the heat radiating from his armored suit. The air crackled with unspoken threat. "Don't play coy with me. You built this. You know who's using it." The modulated voice was menacing. "You gonna tell me willingly, or am I gonna have to… persuade you?"

He was wrong, but denial felt futile.

Your carefully constructed wall of denial crumbled. "Okay! Okay, I… I do some… freelance work. Security consulting mostly. Some… less legal stuff too. Pentesting, vulnerability assessments… stuff like that. But I swear, I didn't… I didn't unleash any virus!"

"What kind of 'less legal stuff'?" He pressed, his tone unrelenting.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat feeling like a jagged stone. "Information gathering… a little… hacking. Corporate espionage, mostly. Helping companies stay ahead of the competition. But nothing that would destabilize a whole city! I swear! I wouldn't even know how to do something like that."

Before he could respond, the front windows of Byte Me exploded inwards, showering us in shards of glass. Gunfire ripped through the air.

"Maroni's boys!" Red Hood roared, grabbing you roughly by the arm. He shoved you down, covering your body with his. The weight of his armored form was surprisingly comforting, a small shield against the hail of bullets that peppered the walls and shattered what was left of the electronics around us.

"Stay down!" he yelled over the din, the acrid smell of gunpowder filling the air. Without waiting for a response, he scrambled to his feet, a dark, armored behemoth against the backdrop of destruction. He returned fire with a deafening roar of gunfire, his pistols barking with a ferocity that matched the assailants. Brass casings rained down around us, glinting in the dim light.

He was fast, brutal, and efficient. But the shooters were relentless. You had to get out of here.

He hauled you up like a paper doll, pulling you to your feet. "Move! We gotta go!"

He didn't have to tell you twice. Together, you sprinted out the back of the shop, through the alleyway, bullets chipping chunks out of the brick walls around you. You stumbled and fell, scraping your knees on the pavement. Red Hood pulled you up again, his grip surprisingly gentle despite the urgency of the situation.

You burst onto the street, and you saw it – his motorcycle, a sleek, black machine that looked like it belonged more on a racetrack than in Gotham's grimy streets.

“Oh no no no… I’m not getting on-”

Before you could finish that, his hands encircled your waist. He practically threw you onto the bike, settling you behind him. "Hold on tight!" He ordered, revving the engine.

"Wait! I can't just…"

His response was a snarl. "Shut up and hold on!"

And then you were moving, tearing through the streets, the roar of the engine drowning out the sounds of the chase. The wind whipped through my hair, carrying with it the scent of burning rubber and fear.

Two cars peeled out from the broken storefront of Byte Me, their headlights cutting through the night. Maroni's men. They were gaining on you.

Red Hood weaved through traffic with reckless abandon, narrowly avoiding collisions. Cars honked and swerved, their drivers enraged and terrified. He was skilled, you had to give him that. But the cars were relentless, gaining on us with every turn.

Then, you heard a sickening thud beneath the bike. An explosion ripped through the night, a blinding flash and a deafening roar. You were lifted off the ground, momentarily weightless, before crashing back down hard.

You tumbled off the bike, skidding across the ground towards the edge of the elevated highway. The impact stole your breath and sent waves of pain radiating through your body. You clawed at the ground, desperate to stop your slide. Below, a churning, black abyss.

The last thing you saw was Red Hood’s figure silhouetted against the flickering city lights before you plunged into the icy waters of Gotham Harbor.

The shock stole your breath, a physical blow that amplified the panic rising in your chest. You flailed, arms and legs thrashing uselessly, trying to orient yourself in the disorienting darkness. But the current was a relentless force, a churning, icy hand pulling you further and further under. Your lungs burned with the desperate need for air, a searing pain that intensified with each passing second. Your vision blurred, the city lights above dissolving into hazy, distorted shapes. The despair began to creep in, a cold and suffocating blanket threatening to extinguish your will to fight.

Just as you were about to succumb to the darkness, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, a sudden and unexpected salvation. The grip was firm, unyielding, hauling you upwards against the relentless pull of the water. You gasped for air, choking and sputtering, the frigid water burning your throat and lungs. Coughing violently, you managed to focus, your eyes blurry but recognizing the familiar red of his jacket. Red Hood. He saved you.

He dragged you, half-conscious and shivering uncontrollably, through the treacherous waters. The current fought against us, threatening to pull us both back into the depths. He was silent, his movements driven by a fierce determination. We finally reached the grimy docks of the Bowery harbor, the rough wood scraping against your skin as he hauled you onto the slippery surface.

His helmet, usually a symbol of intimidating anonymity, was cracked, almost shattered, its polished surface now marred by deep fissures. He reached up, his gloved hand hesitating for a moment, before pulling it off, revealing… a face. A surprisingly… appealing face, despite the harsh lines etched by the jagged scar that bisected his eyebrow. Rugged. Intense.

"Come on," he grunted, his voice rough but laced with a surprising urgency. He pulled a dark hood over his head, obscuring his face once more, but not erasing the image that had been briefly revealed. "We gotta move.”

He was injured. You could see him grimacing with every step, his movements stiff and labored. He favored one leg, his weight unevenly distributed. You limped through the deserted docks, the silence broken only by the lapping of waves against the pilings and your own ragged, gasping breathing. The air hung heavy with the scent of salt and decay, a familiar aroma in this forgotten corner of Gotham.

Finally, you reached it – a towering structure that loomed over the Bowery like a gothic sentinel. The Belfry.

He pushed open a heavy steel door, the hinges groaning in protest, and ushered me inside. The interior was surprisingly clean and high-tech, a stark and unexpected contrast to the grimy, decaying exterior. Banks of monitors glowed with complex data, casting an eerie light on the polished surfaces. The air hummed with the muted thrum of sophisticated technology.

And then you saw them – Nightwing, Batgirl, and Red Robin – all staring at us, their expressions a mixture of confusion and concern. The weight of their gazes settled upon you, adding to the chill that already permeated your bones.

Jason was in worse shape than when he left, sporting numerous bruises and cuts that were rapidly blooming into angry purple welts. And then there was you, soaking wet, shivering, and looking utterly out of place.

You shrunk back, trying to blend into the wall, wishing you could disappear into the shadows. The guilt and fear were a heavy weight in your stomach.

Red Hood launched into a terse explanation, cutting you sideways glances every now and then. He recounted the events leading up to your near-drowning, painting you as a potential suspect but also acknowledging the lack of direct involvement.

When he finished, Babs spoke first, her voice calm and measured. "So, you think she's involved in the attacks, but you're not sure."

"She's got the skills, that's for sure!" said Jason with a pointed glare at you.

"And she’s been shot at by the Maronis," Tim added thoughtfully, his gaze sharp and analytical. "That suggests she's either involved in something they want, or she's become a liability to them.”

"She could be a target, or a useful pawn. Either way, we can't just let her go," Dick finished, his blue eyes filled with a concern that felt surprisingly genuine. He was assessing you, trying to gauge your intentions, your capabilities.

"So, what are you saying?" Jason asked, his voice laced with a hint of annoyance. He shifted his weight, his muscles tense.

"What we're saying," Babs said, turning to you with a serious expression, "is that until we know for sure what's going on, and until it's safe for you to leave, you're staying here. At the Belfry."

"Oh…" was the only thing you managed to choke out, the word barely audible above the pounding of your heart. You were still trying to process everything that had happened in the past few hours - the attack, the fall, Jason rescuing you, and now, this. So, you were stuck with a bunch of superheroes who thought you were a criminal. At least Red Hood hadn't broken your legs over this. Yet.

#gotham knights #gotham knights fanfic #gotham knights jason todd #gk jason todd #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood #red hood x reader #hacker!reader #dc #fem!reader

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hirayaaraw · 2 years ago

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Of Taxes and Marriage

Tags: friends to lovers; marriage for convenience / fake marriage; pining

It's Saturday and you were supposed to have to watch a movie downtown with your bestfriens Wonwoo but plans were changed. Here you are in his dining table with your laptop and cramming your tax file that is due on Monday.

"Why no one has taught this in college?" You complain while you were dizzy with the amount of payslips you got from your main job and side hustle. "I'm really sorry for cancelling our plans, Won."

"It's fine." Wonwoo said before sitting next to you and peek on your laptop. You can see his grimace on your peripheral view.

"Should I call my mom's secretary to fix your tax file so we can eat our dinner now?" You roll your eyes. Wonwoo, of course, the rich kid he is, knows and have anyone to fix your tax.

"I doubt you call them to fix yours."

"Well, right." And Wonwoo, the rich kid he is, doesn't like using his connection. He likes doing his stuff on his own. "I don't even want to call my mom right now because that means another blind date to arrange with another daughter of someone."

"Poor you." You said nonchalantly. You couldn't care less about his rich boy problem because when you saw the amount of tax you will be paying. "I'm doomed."

Wonwoo pulled your laptop as you try to process the fact that you owe the freaking government a huge amount of tax. "Woah. You made that much in your side hustle?"

"Made that much, gave away so much to my family, and now I need pay so much to this government." You stressed out as you comb your hair in frustration. You are thinking to delay the payment and paying the penalties. "Not to mention my monthly rent."

"You need some help?"

"No, I'm fine. I can handle this." You said and close your laptop. "What should we eat tonight?"

"Orange chicken?"

"That sounds nice. Do you the ingredients?" You stood up and went to his refrigerator.

"Yeah, I did some grocery when you said we gonna cancel the plan tonight." He said then start preparing the utensils that will be used.

This is how your weekends usually happen. Dinner with either of your apartments. Cooking together or if you both feeling lazy, you order pizza and do some movie marathon. This started during your college days as broke students and now you two are inseparable.

Once you are done cooking, you felt a bit better as you see Wonwoo become excited about the food. He prepared the table and pull you a chair.

"Thank you for the food." He said before closing his eyes to mutter a short prayer. "Finally a real food."

"If only you can stop being lazy about cooking."

"I told you I can't cook."

"Then what did we do earlier, Mister?"

"Well, I chop and you do your magic." Wonwoo said then ate a spoonful of rice. He continued explaining how shitty he is as a cook. You just agreed he is a bad cook and settled on cooking on weekends for him so he can stay alive or else he will live through instant noodles and canned goods.

Once you finish eating, you clear the table and he wash the dishes. He notice how your aura is still gloomy despite trying to make you laugh.

"You know I can help you if you tell me." He said while rinsing the plate.

"If the government can give tax break to corporations for doing charity, why can't they do it for single women who are breadwinners?" You whined at him. "If you happen to know who to contact to lower my tax bracket, then I will gladly ask for your help."

Wonwoo wipe the plates dry and put it on the cabinet. He bit his lower lip and turn to you.

"What? Do you know how?"

"Yeah" Wonwoo said in low voice. Unsure if he should say it.

"Really? You know how?" You said excitedly and you hugged him. Wonwoo gulped as he smelled your perfume. You pulled away from him and waited for this information.

"You need to marry someone to get a tax break." He said in a matter of fact tone. You groaned and slap his chest in annoyance.

"Where can I find a husband? I've been single since we graduated." You frowned at him while he smiled at you. He ruffled your hair to annoy you more.

"You can marry me."

You blink twice at him. It seems like your brain is playing at you. You scanned his face to see any sign if he is joking or what but Wonwoo is just smiling at you.

"What did you say?"

"I sad you can marry me." Wonwoo said in a very serious tone then gave you a small smile. You can feel your heart beat jumps.

"You shouldn't joke about marriage, asshole." You pushed him towards the sink and walk to his sofa. He followed you like a lost cat.

"Hey I'm serious." Wonwoo said when he caught your hand.

"Marriage for tax? Are you kidding me?" You looked at him with disbelief on how he came up with that idea. "Marriage should happen between two people who love each other."

"We love each other!" He said as if it is the easiest thing on the world.

"Platonically."You said and Wonwoo still holding your hand slowly kneeling on one knee.

"You get a lower tax bracket, my mom will stop pestering me about blind dates."

"Insane."

"You can pay me half of your monthly rent or even nothing if we get married."

"I can believe you are talking me through this and I am seriously considering it."

"Y/N, will you marry me? For the sake of taxes and everything that bothers us." He asked you with that endearing smile. How could you say no?

"You'll help me file my tax?"

"Gladly."

"I will shoo away your blind dates."

"I am literally on my knees so please."

"Half of my rent and I cook for you everyday."

"I will be forever grateful."

"When's our wedding?"

That's how you ended up Monday morning at the city hall in your white skirt, coat, and strapped on heels. Wonwoo arrived at your appartment with a bouquet yellow tulips and to add the wedding vibe according to him. He looks handsome in his black tuxedo and slick back hairstyle.

Now you both stand in front of a judge as he precided your wedding. You drag a janitor and a court clerk to be a witness to your wedding. Wonwoo held both of your hands. You listen to the judge intenly while he looks at you endearingly.

"With the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride."

You and Wonwoo's eyes widen in surprise. You forgot the part where you need to kiss each other. Wonwoo slowly remove the veil from your face.

He held your cheeks gently and you look at him before closing your eyes. This is not the first kiss you shared with him. However, this is is special as you are now his wife. He lowered his head and gave you a kiss. You can feel his smile against yours and you couldn't help but reach his face with your free hand.

"Congratulations, Mr. And Mrs. Jeon!" You pulled away and hugged him. Wonwoo laughed as he hugged you tighter.

Just two idiots who will never admit they love each other romantically.

2017 December

A day before you both leave the campus dorm to celebrate the holiday. You are sitting side by side in his tiny couch with a bowl of popcorn on your lap. Love, Rosie playing on the screen.

"Do you think we will be in love at each other like them?" You asked him out of the blue. Just pure curiousity.

"I don't know. Maybe? We don't what fate holds for us."

"But is that fine with you?"

"Fine with?"

"Falling in love with me in the future."

"Yeah there's not to love about you." Wonwoo said calmly as if it is a non brainer question. You put the popcorn on the coffee table.

You don't know what went on your mind. It is suddenly hazy. You turn to him while Wonwoo is watching Rosie confess.

"I want to know something."

"Shoot."

"Can I kiss you?"

"Okay." Wonwoo looked at you. Without anytime waster, you pulled him towards you and kiss him. It took few seconds for Wonwoo to respond. His hand grab your neck to deepen the kiss. You were never kissed like this before.

You pulled away to breathe. He rested his forehead to yours before giving you a peck.

"Was it that you want to know?" He asked you with breathy voice. You stood up before you were completely trap by the spell he puts you in.

"Oh look. It's late. I have a bus to catch on tomorrow morning." You pick up your phone and ran towards the door. "Merry Christmas, Wonwoo!"

Your curiousity is satisfied. You just learned that Wonwoo has the ability to make your heart go crazy and your heart is ridiculously beating for him.

But no, you don't need love as senior college student clinging on scholarship. You set aside the feelings and burried it the whole holiday season.

It was the first but certainly not the last kiss you shared with Wonwoo as friends.

2019 July

Drinks flowing as the campus celebrated the night before the graduation ceremony. Everyone is inebriated as well as you and Wonwoo.

Wonwoo never left your side and his free arm is stucked in either your waist or shoulder. Both of you were laughing like idiots at the corner of your batchmate's house, you legs resting on his lap and your head on his shoulder. The party music blaring in the whole house.

When the laughter between the two of you ensued, you both notice how there is almost no distance between the two of you. You can smell the beer and his musky perfume.

Wonwoo raised your chin and you can see the hesitation in his eyes. You held his hand and took this as a sign. He kissed you tenderly. A little bit sloppy but you can feel his yearning as if he is scared that he will be losing you.

Once you are both out of breath, you rested your head on his chest. Hands still intertwined.

"Y/N" Wonwoo called you. You hummed against his chest. He felt that he has the whole world. He is nervous but it feels like a now or never situation. "Have I told you that I love you?"

He waited for a response but nothing came out from you. Wonwoo looked down just to see you sleeping on him.

Present

If he told the 2019 Jeon Wonwoo that he will end up marrying you, his old self will never believe it. If he told his past self that you both spent the night of your wedding playing board games, his old self will laugh at him for being loser.

He is happy and content for what he has right now. His confession can wait.

Right now, you enjoy defeating Wonwoo in every scrabble round. Your heart beats like first time you both kissed. Just like the first time you kissed, you wanted to put aside your feelings and focus on the pressing matters at hand.

#wonwoo x oc #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo x reader #kpop scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #wonwoo imagines #seventeen fic

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tornrose24 · 5 months ago

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I was asked how Molly being a temporary vampire would work, especially if I more than hinted that she’d likely defeat the Head Vampire in my Vampire AU. I needed to think on this to figure out the story.

As said before, the Chairman is the Head Vampire in this AU. He’s so old that he doesn’t look human anymore (possibly more like a corpse) and the sunlight will instantly kill him, but he’s still dangerously powerful. In order to stay in his good graces, every vampire has to give him a monthly payment of blood, and of course they have to follow all the rules. One rule is that you can’t let a human find out about you and if they do, you have to kill them to keep the secret of vampires safe.

Since vampires are still killable, their punishment is getting their blood sucked out by the Chairman until they are drained to death, and only a withered husk is left behind. The whole process is AGONIZING.

And despite his laziness, Scratch does NOT want to die, especially in a manner so horrible, so that’s his main motivation for staying on task each month. Molly is horrified when she learns of this.

However at some point, Molly gets an injury and of course, bleeds. Scratch is able to resist (but not without some struggling and restraint) and is unable to get so much as a droplet. However he could tell by the scent that there’s something… unusual about Molly’s blood. She’s still very human, but there’s something about her blood that’s not like others.

Of course, events play out exactly like in canon. Scratch is unable to keep the secret of his friendship with Molly a secret and is taken away to face his punishment since he didn’t kill her like he was supposed to.

Molly blames herself for putting her friend through this, but luckily she is able to reach Geoff (who is also a vampire in this au) and tells him that she wants to save Scratch and will do whatever it takes, even if she has to become a vampire too in order to get a fighting chance. Geof is reluctant, but Scratch told him before about Molly’s blood as well as his suspicions that Molly would not make for a normal vampire if she was turned.

So he goes ahead and temporarily curses Molly into becoming a vampire. As long as she doesn’t consume blood herself, the transformation will not be permanent.

Except there’s an interesting catch with Molly during a moment of self-defense when she arrives at the Head Vampire’s hideout/castle–she doesn’t need to drink blood. She injects HER blood into a vampire, and changes their personality into a more happier one for a certain amount of time. (Anyone familiar with Karin/Chibi Vampire? It’s basically this.)

She manages to arrive in the nick of time because the Head Vampire has drained almost all of Scratch’s blood (and yeah, he looks REALLY bad–you thought this was bad? This would be even worse. The poor guy is dangerously close to looking like a mummy by this point). Molly is pissed as hell and demands the HV to give Scratch’s blood back to him or else she will unleash her full powers. No one believes her, so she decides to go ahead and attempt a transformation herself…

…Except her bat form is basically no different than the sun itself when she uses her full powers–hell any form she could turn into now would include the sun itself at this point. She’s so powerful she’s accidentally killing like half the vampires in the room and of course the HV (who gets badly injured thanks to Molly) tries to escape.

Molly catches up to the guy and decides he needs a bit of perking up if he’s so dour all the time. However, this is an instant kill, since something so old and ancient can’t handle joy in blood form.

Now the entire vampire world is officially terrified of this girl, and of her becoming a vampire permanently. Or taking the HV’s position.

Nope, Molly just takes some of HV’s blood stash to give to Scratch and return him back to normal. Then she and Geoff take Scratch home so he can recover while a huge chunk of vampires at the castle are now dead and the rest are leaderless.

The two friends wait the night out for it to pass, and Molly’s curse eventually wears off, since she didn’t drink any blood like she was warned. And all was good for a time…

#the ghost and molly mcgee #tgamm vampire au #vampire au #Molly vs but with vampires #Scratch NEVER gets a break in any of my aus

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financebloggerworld · 9 months ago

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arsonistmoth · 2 years ago

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Commissions are Open!

Times are a little rough right now and I find myself in need of help paying some crucial bills! So! It is commission time!! Any bit helps and is appreciated greatly.

A few basic rules:

-As an artist I do hold the right to refuse any commission, it might be that I am not confident in my skills enough for what is asked Or the subject matter might be way out of my comfort zone. There are things I will and will not draw buddies!

- All payments must be in US currency (usd) and through P@ypall!

-Payment is asked for once I have finished the cleaned sketch of your flat or full piece and have your OK on how the piece looks.(With sketches It is an upfront payment) -Now, I’m no mind reader, So a Colored reference will be required for each character! If you have a ref but it is not colored I /am/ willing to work with you on color picking but that might add a slight charge to your bill depending on how long it takes to decide on hues! -IF you only have a description of your character or you want me to DESIGN the character for you, that will be a significant additional charge as that sort of work adds hours onto the process. - You may repost your commissioned piece but please, do not crop out my tiny signature and Please remember to credit me wherever you post! - I do not haggle my prices. -Characters with complex markings May require an additional complexity charge. just based on how wild we're talkin.

Things I wont draw

Fandoms that do NOT allow commissions of their artwork Heavy NSFW (think sexual themes) [I only draw these themes for those who are 18+ and are willing to prove as much. no minors allowed] No fetish art Certain pairings(ask me DM and i will let you know if that pairing is ok for me to draw) No underage/Incest/selfcest and things the like. This is an /instant/ no and potential block from me.

Ref sheet rules:

Ref sheets will vary in price based on a number of factors. Complexity of design, number of additional details included, whether or not i design the character for you. All these things can have a hand in the final price of the ref. If you are interested in this option we can discuss your budget and what all you are looking to include. I am always happy to work with people :>

All my artwork is digital and once the piece is complete you will receive the HD, Unwatermarked version in DMs. The version i post publicly will have my main watermark.

Interested? shoot me a message via tumblr/twitter messenger or over at my email [email protected] ! Twitter: Gingergoats BlueSky: Goatsgalore

#art commissions #art commissions open #open commissions #furry commissions #furry commissions open #furry artist #digital artist #Ref sheet commissions #Icon commissions #goat draws #furry art #commissions #commissions open

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goolreview9 · 3 months ago

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walkswithmyfather · 8 months ago

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Matthew 18:21-35 (NLT). “Then Peter came to him and asked, “Lord, how often should I forgive someone who sins against me? Seven times?” “No, not seven times,” Jesus replied, “but seventy times seven! “Therefore, the Kingdom of Heaven can be compared to a king who decided to bring his accounts up to date with servants who had borrowed money from him. In the process, one of his debtors was brought in who owed him millions of dollars. He couldn’t pay, so his master ordered that he be sold—along with his wife, his children, and everything he owned—to pay the debt. “But the man fell down before his master and begged him, ‘Please, be patient with me, and I will pay it all.’ Then his master was filled with pity for him, and he released him and forgave his debt. “But when the man left the king, he went to a fellow servant who owed him a few thousand dollars. He grabbed him by the throat and demanded instant payment. “His fellow servant fell down before him and begged for a little more time. ‘Be patient with me, and I will pay it,’ he pleaded. But his creditor wouldn’t wait. He had the man arrested and put in prison until the debt could be paid in full. “When some of the other servants saw this, they were very upset. They went to the king and told him everything that had happened. Then the king called in the man he had forgiven and said, ‘You evil servant! I forgave you that tremendous debt because you pleaded with me. Shouldn’t you have mercy on your fellow servant, just as I had mercy on you?’ Then the angry king sent the man to prison to be tortured until he had paid his entire debt. “That’s what my heavenly Father will do to you if you refuse to forgive your brothers and sisters from your heart.”

“When Others Fail Us” By In Touch Ministries:

“Because God forgives us, we should forgive others.”

“You’re in a difficult situation, and one by one, friends have fallen away. Now the pain is worse because you’re suffering alone. Why were you deserted? It’s possible friends left because they felt inadequate or couldn’t stand to watch you suffer. Or perhaps some had their own best interests in mind and feared being associated with your situation and potentially falling into similar trouble.

You might wonder how to respond to them. There is only one appropriate biblical response: forgiveness. As forgiven people, we never have the right to withhold pardon from others. (Remember, however, that forgiving does not require you to remain in an abusive situation.

The apostle Paul is a good example for us to follow. After being alone during his Roman imprisonment, he wrote: “May it not be counted against them” (2 Timothy 4:16). Perhaps Paul remembered that Stephen, while being stoned, cried out, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them!” (Acts 7:60). But it is probable that Paul had an even greater act of forgiveness in mind: Christ’s death and His attitude toward the crucifiers. Jesus prayed, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34)

Because God unreservedly forgives us—and all who turn to Him—of sin, we too should be willing to extend forgiveness.”

[Photo thanks to Elianna Gill at Unsplash]

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