#and i was like. wow. you can do that? i thought you had to suffer through it?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

muntitled · 8 months

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𝐒𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 | 𝐇𝐚𝐳𝐞𝐥 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐧

Hazel Callahan x F!Reader

Summary: "Jesus, dude, do you know what it means when a gay girl says they wanna have a "slumber party?"

Warnings: Hyper Feminine!Reader, Language, Fluff, Jealousy, Humor, Reader has a crush, Confessions, Teasing, Smut (+18, Minors DNI), Dom!Hazel, Humping, Grinding, Masturbation, Pillowprincess!Reader tbh, Thigh Riding, Public sex, Risky Sex, Massive Degradation Kink, Power Play, Ownership Kink?, Praise Kink, Slight!Hate sex ♡

Part two >

Hazel Callahan was rarely included into anything vaguely external, she would venture to say that she was even rarely included in her own thoughts. Therefore, infuriatingly, painfully aloof Hazel thought nothing of the invite you had presented to the entire group at Fight Club.

Why should she feel special?

Things like this seldom warranted her definite response, so when all the girls had affirmed their attendance, Hazel was... discombobulated to find a silence of anticipation growing pregnant in the gym.

It took a sharp stab in the ribs from PJ for Hazel to swing her head back into this specific reality in the space-time continuum. A reality in which you sat adjacent to her in a circle, legs crossed dainty underneath you to better accommodate the neatly pressed pleads in your pink skirt. There was nothing remarkably profound from you carrying yourself like the pretty princess you thought you were, what strikes Hazel as odd, however, was the look of expectancy in your dark eyes- a look you directed at… her?

"What?"

"You're coming? To my slumber party tonight?" you reiterate stifling the need to pat down at your braids corralled into a pink headband. You are basking under the scrutiny of her gaze but you also happened to suffer under it too. The longer Hazel watched you with furrowed brows, and her knee propped up to her chest, the longer you keened forward as if desperate to hear her say-

"Of course she's coming," PJ once again injects herself in between the two of you. "We'll all be there," You're perhaps nodding at PJ and Josie but your eyes are unable to leave the absolute prison that Hazel has them in. She does nothing except nod as well, before leaving you to your clique who all sit prettily under clouds of Chanel number 5.

The interaction replayed within the confines of Hazel's head throughout the rest of the school day. Right up until she finds herself, nestled in a car with Josie and PJ, taking the short drive in the more affluent neighbourhood from her place to yours.

"So, Hazel," the lascivious tone in PJ's voice already has her rolling her eyes as the car slows before an egregious house. "Are you ready to lose your virginity tonight?"

"Jesus Christ-" Murmurs Josie before PJ assumes what is expected to be your tone of voice- only its a hyperbolic and a higher in pitch reenactment of the real thing.

"Oh Hazel! I'd really like for you to come to my slumber party tonight!" All three girls leave the car as PJ continues her comedic display of seduction as she brushes up against Hazel and says "I really want you at my slumber party."

Hazel laughs as PJ grabs a hold of her upper arm, exposed from her open black button up and tank top. "You're coming right?" PJ sobers up as she says, "That's hot girl speak for "You're going to be cumming inside me-"

Josie does not keep her eyes off the approaching house as she interjects with, "Girls can't cum in other girls"

"Wow!" Hollers PJ, "-And here I was thinking you actually believed that girls can do everything that guys can do-"

"Wait," Hazel's eyes are on her shoes as she readjusts her tote bag and says, "You think she actually wants to like... fuck?" She lowers her voice drastically in the wake of making it up to your front door as she bends and reiterates, "Like actually fuck me?"

There is, frankly no time for Hazel to get a firm response on such a discombobulating thought because you quickly open the front door, and your skin is glowing everywhere from being completely exposed in your pink satin shorts and matching camisole set. Your hair is still loose as it frames your face- your round and constantly smiling face. Why had Hazel never noticed you until now?

Perhaps she did.

Perhaps she negated the possibility of forming a crush on you because you appeared so painfully… straight?

But here you are, smiling at her and only her. Your eyes had been bright at the sight of Hazel and her button up and how outrageously attractive she looked in a tank top but your smile dims significantly when you peer down at PJ'S hand still wrapped around Hazel's forearm.

"H-Hey," Said Hazel, with her voice that reminded you so vividly of a midnight snowstorm,

"Hey," you replied back, quickly turning away. Your mood had already been cemented for the rest of the evening. Despite it being your slumber party, you let your best friend host while you continued to wallow in the regret of your own unshakeable feelings. You hated that PJ and Hazel were very clearly a couple, but what you hated perhaps more, was that you still wanted her. You stole longing glances at her in your space, lazing on your bed while the rest of you sat encircled on the floor in sleeping bags. Hazel completely hijacked your entire brain throughout all the games and activities.

You had lost yourself in her presence and that only kicked up a notch when you felt a pair of forearms lazily splay onto your shoulders from above. With your bum still on the floor and your back against the foot of your bed, Hazel had decided to humour her turn in Truth or Dare. While she answered, she let her legs frame your body. So that it swung over the side of the bed, perfectly framing your sides.

Breathing had been impossible. So impossible in fact, you didn't know it was your turn until it took Hazel bringing her lips down to your ear. Your nerves had been shot to hell as she whispered, "Dove, it's your turn."

You cursed this idea and you cursed this wretched slumber party.

Luckily, It passed by in a significant blur that left you still riding on the high of being in Hazel's personal space until bedtime at 1am. While the girl's drifted into their own sleep, your eyes remained on the pink chandelier hanging from your ceiling while you cradled your stuffed frog to your chest. No matter how hard you try, sleep is a difficult thing to come by. You are left to your thoughts of the girl sleeping on the floor, while gentle snores sounded in the room.

"Fuck," you almost instinctively mutter as you find your hand drifting past your navel. You spread your leg ever so slightly before pushing your hand into your underwear. The quicker you came, the quicker your body could finally be allowed to slip into actual slumber. It sounded like a solid plan, and you had already taken to grinding your wet cunt against your hand- until it all went to hell and your duvet is being pulled slightly off of you.

You're quick to remove your hand and grab a hold of your covers as your eyes snap open to stare at the silhouette above you. Hazel's hair is a spectacular mess on her head and her skin shines orange from the glow of your salt lamp.

"Let me in," she whispers, not really waiting for a response before she's forcing herself into your covers, scooching you on the right side of the bed.

"What are you-"

"Shh," it's embarrassing, how quick you are to snap your mouth shut and heed her commands. Hazel's stomach warms significantly at how docile you are and she smiles as she says, "I cant sleep and I had the vague suspicion that you couldn't either." Hazel says, propping her exposed forearm under her head as she looks up at your ceiling. Her button up is discarded somewhere in the room, leaving her in basketball shorts and a tank but you're not complaining. Not at all.

"I told myself I'd be more intentional with my actions, and my actions are telling me to kiss you right now, but my feelings are telling me you might not want that." You're corraled into stark and naked shock as you watch the girl you've always wanted, confess to you in your bed. It feels unreal. The longing stares, the hours you've spent writing amatuer poetry in your notes app about her, the amount of times you made yourself cum with her heavy on your mind.

This does not feel real.

"Jesus," your voice is uncharacteristically coarse as you rush to say, "Dude, do you know what it means when a gay girl says they wanna have a "slumber party."

Hazel appears stunned as she watches you with wide eyes, "Well yeah," Says Hazel, "but… do you know what it means?"

"I've liked you since junior year," Your confession has her mind going hazy as she tries to recall all the subtle hints which she effortlessly discarded as you just being kind.

"God, you're such an idiot!" You release a chuckle that momentarily stirs a sleeping girl laying closest to the bed in her sleeping bag.

"Shh," Hazel's finger is pressed softly to her lips, you nod slowly only able to process mimicking her own actions.

"What were you doing just a second ago?" She says, swiftly removing the attention from her and her stupidity, replacing the atmosphere instead, with something much more dangerous. There's a difference in her whispers, a tone that has you melting into the covers as you unconsciously squeeze your legs shut. In this moment, she could ask anything of you, and you would simply comply. The silence stretches like honey between the two of you, and Hazel watches with doe eyes as you sink into your shame.

"You don't have to say anything." She finally whispers back, freeing you from your internal damnation but not completely letting you off the hook as she continues: "Just move your hips for me." It was an aggressively passive instruction that exploded a bundle of charged electricity between your legs. You are trapped in a distinctly uncomfortable position between wanting to comply, but wanting to be stubborn. The discomfort of these emotions are not entirely unwanted.

"Do you want me to show you how?" There is a challenging glint in her eyes that simulates the peroration of whatever the hell this is that you are both about to do.

This non-relationship which is so innately a relationship.

"Yeah." Your voice rocks with the signs of an oncoming tempest alerting your body to the possibility of something very, very exciting on the horizon.

Time and space seems so few and far in-between as Hazel keeps you arrested in those blue, endless hues. Examining her features keeps your wanton, unwinding nerves chaotically at bay. There is an intense exchange of control as Hazel shuffles closer, until her head is resting on your pillow and your both breathing into each other's parted lips.

She almost restlessly sets her palm onto your body, her hands on a slow path down your hips. It gives you a sliver of control knowing that bubbling behind her dilated pupils is a need that haunts her just as greatly.

"I'm gonna show you, okay?" She does not need to repeat herself but you recognize her words for what they are: masked behind the excitement and the charged atmosphere, is a real, and genuine need for consent.

The very moment you hopped over this threshold, you would forever be locked in a world anew. There would be no take backs. Your actions would forever be transcribed on the sacred tablet of our shared history.

"Are you going to show me, Hazel?" Desire is seated comfortably on top of your lungs and you speak only in soft pants, "Because it really feels like you're all bark and no bite."

There is a flash of excitement that sweeps momentarily over her lidded lustful gaze.

Her hands are much more sure of themselves as they lock into your sides, her fingers digging rudely into your silk pyjama bottoms.

"Shouldn't you be taking those off?" You ask cheekily.

A scoff slips through her lips as she shifts just a tad closer, her face now centimetres from yours. "You're awfully needy." Hazel whispers, "It's incredibly embarrassing."

What would prove to be even more embarrassing is the jarring way your hips stutter the very moment those words leave Hazel's lips. Your accidentally whorish slip up might have gone unnoticed were it not for the annoying fact that her right leg was seated quite cosily between your legs.

"Shut up," is all you manage to say - a desperate attempt at scrambling for your dignity crumbling in the bed between you.

Hazel laughs airly. Slowly, her hands at your hip begin to move, subsequently allowing your hips to move. A soft and slow moan passes through your lips, drowned out by the sound of sleeping girls as your eyes flutter shut.

"Hey," Hazel's lips are fully touching yours now, "Look at me." She could've never anticipated how the fucked out look in your eyes could ever make her feel. Your eyebrows are curved, as if you're in pain as you hump slowly against her thigh. The coarseness of the silk and her thigh pressing against your aching cunt… it makes everything feel so overwhelmingly real, unmarred by great expectations. The thump of her heart underneath your palm is so incredibly real. The beads of sweat growing pregnant on her forehead are real. Her dry, parted lips pressed against yours is in fact real.

"What are you thinking about?" It strikes you then that you had been a muddled, mindless haze, humping against her thigh with an urgency.

"I'm thinking about you." You reply, truthfully.

"Good things, I hope?" It is so unimaginable, the way her voice is able to remain so incredibly steady while yours is as shaky as a walrus thumping across an icy lake.

"I don't suspect anyone has ever had a single good thought about you." You shoot back and the fingers gripping your hips lock tighter, nearly prompting you to apologise.

The only other option left for you to exhaust is clamping your mouth shut as Hazel's hand assumed a much more aggressive administration. She grips on the plush skin at your sides with an unnecessary hardness, as if she wanted to tear in into you.

"See, I was gonna fuck you," it is absolutely shameful, the whimper that escapes your lips, "But now I'm gonna make you hump my leg like the slutty little girl you are." Before you could scold her, or perhaps violently disagree, rudely, before your cries of indignation could ever be forced out, Hazel is lifting you up from your side of the bed, her head shifting until her brown curls cover your pillow fully.

She turns onto her back, never releasing eye contact as she forces you down so you're straddling her steepled knee. The new position leaves you searching for a new anchor.

"Your hands are pushing down on my hair-" she grumble-whispers.

"If you'd let me finish faster that wouldn't be as much of a problem now, would it?" Hazel's response, in lieu of her thoroughly unimpressed face, had been to grind her thigh further against your core, eliciting a wanton, broken moan into the air.

"You're gonna have to be quiet, Dove." Her voice is gravel, "Wouldn't want anyone seeing how much of my whore you are, would you?" The sound of your own moans slam back into you as you press your pussy incredibly closer to her leg.

"Imagine what they might think of you? Our little star pupil getting herself off on my leg? Is that really all it takes to please you?" Staying quiet had become an unimaginable feat, a mountain that becomes even more difficult to surmount when Hazel's eyes search frantically over your crippling form for a trigger that might send you over the edge.

You couldn't begin to imagine how powerful she must feel watching your hips move wantonly on her thigh while your hooded eyes displayed desperation.

You feel so thoroughly hers, a previous existence in which you went without her hard ministrations guiding you to orgasm felt completely in vain. You want nothing more than to be so incredibly good to her, and the thought that she might want the same way sends you to an early grave.

"You're doing so well, Baby. Keeping going." An embarrassing wave of pleasure ripped straight through your spine leaving a trail of shivers in its wake. There is no mistaking that your reaction to her praise and her validation had not gone unnoticed.

Your pussy is completely soaked against her leg, burdened with the knowledge that it wants something but it didn't exactly know what.

"I need you," you whisper. Before your own shame might wave away the pleasure, you are delighted at the moan that slips through Hazel's parted lips.

You had been so thoroughly enamoured by your own pleasure, you had not stopped to consider hers. The pillow princess stereotype brought with it a wave of shame as you looked down and found her hips stuttering slowly against yours.

"I'm right here, Dove."

And you both began to melt for each other. Your legs are tangled in one another while her thigh is pressed against your clit at the same time your thigh is pressed between her legs as well.

You are pleasantly surprised when you begin to feel the fabric of Hazel shorts moving against your own legs slotted in between her. You didn't have to picture how gloriously lecherous it might have looked, using each other so blatantly to fulfil a need that had begun simmering since forever. "Oh fuck, you're so pretty," her hand finds purchase against your breast, tweaking your nipples until they hardened against the camisole while her other hand was comfortably gripping your jaw, staring up at you with lustful eyes.

"You don't even know how perfect you look right now," you did not speak a word of a lie. Watching Hazel's long and domineering form writhing underneath you is a mental image you wish to keep stored in your chest of sacred memories forever. It is discombobulating, watching someone so used to walking so tall and unbothered, being made a complete mess underneath you.

You never wanted this moment to end.

"I want you to kiss me." She croaks, despite already bringing your face close to hers by the strength of a single grip. Her eyes search yours for something. You only hope that grinding yourself even faster against her leg is a testament to whatever it is she might've been looking for. Soon, her lips crash onto yours. When Hazel Callahan kisses, she kisses sloppily and disastrously as if she wanted to swallow you whole before you ever thought of escaping. Her lips are all encompassing, her tongue is restless, pushing itself into your mouth with avid determination.

You moan softly into her mouth. A sound she appreciates greatly given the way her hips began to move against your thigh with a matching ferocity. Her hand slithers along your back, until she cups a handful of your ass, dragging your pussy once again against her, at her desired pace.

Rough. Arresting. Frantic.

"You're being too loud," She sighs, breaking away from your lips to trail them down your neck. "You're being too fucking loud-"

"Fuck, Hazel I'm close-" Your legs are locked against hers but the hand on your ass keeps your hips moving by proxy. "I'm so close."

"You're gonna cum for me, Dove?"

"Oh God, I love it when you call me that-" There is an embarrassing pool of wetness accumulated between your legs, dripping through your shorts and onto her skin. She is equally as wet and that fact only spurs you on.

"I need you to cum for me, baby?" Her stuttering hips told you her own release is dangerously close, sitting on the horizon. Perhaps your orgasm had bled into something prideful, her need to make you cum first caused her to delay her own release.

"You're fucking unbelievable." You sigh with troubled realisation.

She uncovers herself from your chest, panting heavily without her hips ever stopping. "You're gonna cum first, okay?" She nods, persuading you to mimic her movements because despite everything, you are putty in her hands.

"Okay."

As she kisses you once more her hand travels back to your now exposed boob. Between your kiss, Hazel had somehow managed to haphazardly lift your camisole enough to expose your breasts.

A straggled sound leaves the back of your throat as your orgasm crested.

She succeeded in making a mess of you. Your hair had been set free, braids spilling like wild snakes down your torso.

"Oh God, oh fuck-" a hand slaps over your mouth. Hazel's eyes are wide as she continues to guide your hips to release.

"Such a good little Dove, aren't you?" Your eyes are blown with stars and pixie dust as you nod drunkenly. She's humping your thigh and you're humping hers and soon the orgasm sneaks up on you, stealing your breath right from inside your lungs. Your strangled moan is muffled by her palm.

Her eyes take it all in with a very certain hunger, drifting from watching her own hips grinding your thigh, to the choked expression of utter euphoria splashed against your face.

"Fuck, baby." Her Eyebrows knot as her breathing picks up. The pressure visibly building across her face is nearly enough to send you back into your pool of euphoria.

"Oh fuck- oh baby," The wave of pleasure that courses through her is violent and incredibly validating. It is you who had gotten her to this point, humping your leg so desperately as if it might be the only thing she could ever hope to achieve. For someone who had built such a notable reputation for always mainting an I-dont-give-a-fuck mentality, this feels like an immense achievement for you.

Once the smoke clears, and Hazel finds herself back on planet earth, the relics of her euphoria register as intermittent aftershocks. The dawn of what you had just done begins to settle and almost instinctively, you revert to your teasing.

"How nice of you to finally join us," you are still hovering above her, her long neck craning to look at you.

"You talk a lot of shit for someone who squeaks when she cums."

The dampness between your legs is a reminder. "You're gonna learn to take just as much as you give sooner or later," You don't miss the hint of a promise thinly veneered along that whisper. Choosing to ignore the fluttering in the pit of my stomach at the sound of it alone, you climb off of her and back to your space on the bed.

"What's its name?" Hazel asks, peering into the darkness to bring your stuffed frog back into your arms. "You strike me as someone who gives their stuffed toys names."

You're still out of breathe as you reply, "Texas,"

She cracks a smile at that. Before you can finally drift off, a hand slips across your hip, trailing over your torso before brushing over your breast and staying there. "I'm gonna buy you one...I wanna watch you hump it like you just did my leg okay?"

All you're able to do is nod.

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan smut #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan fluff #bottoms x reader #bottoms fanfic #bottoms movie

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sophiethewitch1 · 4 months

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What We Want - Chpt. 5 - Meet The Adams Family

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

The first thing you’d done when you woke up, still somehow in the Wayne manor, was pull out not-your phone and check the date. When it tells you that you are not, in fact, in some weird version of a time loop, you feel some measure of relief. The second thing you do is look your own damn name up on Google. There were over 3 million results. You have a Wikipedia page. If that hadn’t made you want to gag, the press from last night had you bumbling your way into the ensuite bathroom and puking into the toilet.

It’s still sitting on the bathroom floor, nauseous and achy and sweaty, your mouth washed out but still tasting foul, that you continue your research.

It’s just as you had suspected, your family was dead. Still dead. Well, shit. In the light of day, you supposed that made more sense. That there was no real reason to assume otherwise. You hadn’t for most of yesterday, but as soon as you’d thought that maybe there was a chance, your hopes had been dashed. Which was good, rip the bandaid off and all.

It was good. Things were good. They were fine, you were fine. You really wish you were a better liar.

Again you wash your mouth out. Root around the cabinets for some medical-grade mouthwash, do it again, and then you throw yourself into the shower. Again. You notice the soap smells like whoever’s clothes you stole. Refreshing and awakening, that mint and earth again. You think you can detect something floral in it too. It’s still masculine, but…

Wow, you are such a freak! You put down the fucking soap and manage to resist the urge to slam your head into the tiles. Your headache was bad enough already.

When you leave the bathroom, you glance at the door, and then down at your towel. Guess you’re stealing some more apparel. You find a Superman shirt, give it a judging glance, and then pick out a black T-shirt with ‘The Beatles’ across the front, and some sweatpants. You have to roll up the pant legs so you don’t trip and fall flat on your face.

One hand scrolling through Twitter and TikTok and Reddit and every single piece of social media you could find, getting the people’s source of news and you get the high overlords’ one when you turn on the huge TV attached to the wall. The remote kind of confuses you at first, but you manage to find the good ol’ Gotham news channel.

Immediately, you’re greeted by your miserable mascara-streaked face. You turn the TV off. You take a deep breath. Turn it back on. Luckily it’s not just you getting your private moment of trauma blasted open in the media. Your party had been filled with Gotham’s elite, after all. You weren’t the only rich idiot left crying by the side of the road.

You weren’t the only one who had to suffer. There had been twenty-eight casualties, in total. A small amount, considering the man behind the deaths. The Joker wasn’t known for his cleanliness. You tell yourself that, and yet still, you can’t make them just numbers. They’d been standing right next to you, after all. All in the same boat, all waiting for the axe to swing, secretly hoping you’re the one who lives to the next day. Only one of the party guests had been shot, and that’s because you think they’d personally pissed off the Joker. That’s what Twitter says, anyway. There were multiple video recordings of the altercation, and it didn’t look like he’d been the smartest banana in the bunch. The TV is a lot sweeter on the dead soul.

You feel sorry for all the dead. You still don’t think this rich heir should be the face you see, though. When you check his name, you find several forgotten assault cases. Assault, rape, just like that disappearing bastard had tried to do to you. That female janitor you’d seen shot had done more for this city than that guy ever had.

Did her family know? Did she have a family? Someone to mourn her? You’d never thought about that before. How many people out there wouldn’t have anyone to even remember them?

It’s none of your business, in the end.

After a whiles more research, you switch the TV off and tuck your cracked phone into the sweatpants. You know where your mother’s grave is, on the west side of the estate. Wikipedia knew all, which was now kind of creepy to you as it knew all about you as well. Really, you couldn’t believe it. Your mother, buried with the Waynes? You’d always thought she should find someone new, someone who’d appreciate her, unlike your father who had dipped as soon as Sam was born.

You couldn’t even remember the guy. Still, you remembered that he’d smelled bad and made your Mum do everything, and was just generally all around the worst choice for a husband.

But, Jesus Christ, Bruce Wayne? Absolute insanity. You had no idea how the two of them would’ve even met. Let alone fall in love and get married. Your mother was one of the loveliest women on earth but… they had absolutely nothing in common, other than having troublesome kids. And you hadn’t seen her getting lovey-dovey with the other PTA mums.

You walk out of the room you’ve borrowed and into the hallway. In the light of day, the Wayne manor is much less creepy, and you can find it in yourself to appreciate the antique space. Warm sunlight falls over dark oak furniture, illuminating your bare feet as you walk along the Persian rug. Your fingers trail along all the tiny little decorations, some annoying part of you demanding you leave traces of yourself behind. Your fingerprints dirty an old clock, a golden candelabra, a lamp and a tiny spinning globe.

You might’ve gotten lost in a place this huge if you couldn’t hear people’s voices floating down the halls. They were too far away for you to be able to tell what they were saying, but you could still hear them. They’re to the west, so you’re definitely going to have to go past them.

You follow the voices and eventually come to a stop in a hallway. You can smell food. Good, real food. The type that makes your instant-ramen-powered body salivate. The people are in the kitchen, right around the corner. You duck your head and quickly sneak past the mostly closed doorway. On the other side, you pause, your curious self unable to leave just yet.

“She needs help,” Bruce says, and you mentally curse. Balls. You didn’t want to hear this. You guess this was instant karma for snooping. Maybe they weren’t talking about you?

Why did that sound very unlikely…

“She went through a lot last night,” he continues, which, well, yes, you did go through a lot, “And he said that she saw a woman get shot right in front of her. It makes sense if she doesn’t want to talk yet.”

He? Who’s he? Who ratted you out? Wait, dumb question, the four other witnesses who saw the janitor get shot. You were still pretty sure the Waynes weren’t supposed to know that, but everybody knew those GCPD pigs were always just a dollar away from whatever you wanted them to do. It’s not surprising that the Waynes know details only the police should know at the moment.

…It is a bit disappointing, though. You chose to have hope in them, that they’d gotten that information legally. Your fatal obsession with the Waynes wasn’t going to disappear after one miserable party. You wished it would.

“She was acting strange before that,” Timothy Jackson Drake’s smooth voice drifts from the kitchen. You were still a little starry-eyed over him, which was… bad, you think. It’d definitely make whatever relationship the two of you had been forced into a whole lot more difficult. It did not need to be any more difficult.

“Are you accusing her of something?” Bruce Thomas Wayne’s voice is gravelly in comparison, angry, maybe. Also, ‘accusing’? What could he even be accusing you of? It was pretty obvious you weren’t capable of anything nefarious, you were far too stupid for that. You were a plastic bag drifting along the Gotham river, barely able to affect which direction you flowed in.

“God no. And I definitely wouldn’t do it with her listening, that’d be rude.”

Your breath hitches, and you push off from the wall. Busted, damn. Your face feels unbelievably hot. As you leave, you can hear Mr Wayne scolding his adopted son. You walk until you can’t hear their voices anymore, and then a little further, finding an exit door.

You stumble out onto a stone staircase, probably a servants’ one in the olden days. You move down it, hand gripping the railing. You’re barely conscious of where you’re going. There’s a path that leads away from the stone manor and further into the estate, and you follow it. When you spot a small gated area, with stone obelisks and angel statues, you veer off the path and onto the grass.

Hissing out a breath, it’s only now you realise you went outside without any shoes on. Your toes curl in the cold, wet grass. It’s a miserable feeling, and you want to walk right back inside. And then you think about the awkward conversation waiting for you, take a breath and keep going. The gates swing open easily under your hand, the golden embossed ‘W’ glinting in the light.

A guardian angel stands before you. Its stone face is disapproving, glaring down at you from above. ‘Interloper,’ it calls you, but you move past it without pausing. It’s pretty obvious which graves are the new ones and which are the old ones. They’re all clean and well-kept, but the ones to the left have dates going back hundreds of years, and the ones to the right only decades. Your eyes follow the rows of graves. Thomas Wayne, Martha Wayne…

Your breath whistles out of you, nearly muffled by the grey morning wind.

And your mother. She has a different last name, now another Wayne. Your siblings don’t, which makes sense. You’re surprised to find many of your extended family also in this graveyard. Your grandmother. Your uncle and aunt. A few of your cousins.

It’s cold this morning, and you’re out here with only a thin T-shirt on. Shivering, you rub your palms against your bare arms. It doesn’t do much. Still, you don’t want to go inside yet. Instead, you crouch in front of Sam’s grave, eyes reading the tiny epitaph. It’s not the one you wrote.

‘Beloved Son and Brother.’

Simple, clean-cut, formal… unfamiliar, you suppose. Yours had been much more flowery, ‘All the colour in the world is gone without you’. It was a bit silly, but you’d never said you were a poet. You’d just known you’d wanted something that represented them, if poorly.

Sam was a beloved son and brother. But that wasn’t who he chose to be. He liked colours. He’d change his favourite every other day, so he liked everything rainbow. It made it easier to choose which one he’d like next, he said. You were always buying him more and more coloured pencils because he’d wear them all down to the tips, he dyed the cat a bright red headache, much to your mother’s horror, and considered it his personal job to make every single birthday, christmas, and easter card. He’d paint on the walls in washable markers, and you’d often been the one to volunteer to help him get it all down. In school, he always had the best art project out of the entire class, even if you were slightly biased.

He was a colourful kid. He wasn’t… a plain grey tombstone. Nothing to help remember him, because you were always losing more and more of their precious memories.

The others had similarly impersonal graves. Just what they were, not who. Mother, sister. Nothing that spoke of how they’d lived their lives, what the world had lost when they’d died. It was… you didn’t think it was right. It was a disaster, really. Even when you’d had to rely on the Wanye Foundation donations, you’d managed a better resting place than this.

You suppose you’d never gotten them into the Wayne family’s personal graveyard, though. That was a bit of an upgrade, you guess.

“You need to come back inside. You’re worrying my father.”

“Jesus Christ!” you shriek, leaping backward. Your foot catches on one of the cobblestones, and you end up tipping back farther than you mean to, your ass bruising against the ground. You bump another gravestone, and there’s a horrible moment where it gives a little and you think it’s going to knock over.

It doesn’t. A shining miracle on your day.

From your slightly wet seat on the ground, you look up, finding one such Damian Al Ghul-Wayne. His towering height is the first thing you notice, second his stunning emerald green eyes. Both were incredibly shocking in their own ways, but his height really was almost dizzying. Perfect brown skin and a stylish 'long on the top, short on the sides’ black haircut, paired with the sort of face some European model might have, all come together to make sure you feel as pathetic as possible. His posh-looking outfit doesn’t help.

Neither does the fact he just watches you. He doesn’t even pretend to bend over to help you up. Which you’re sort of grateful for, honestly. It’d just make you more embarrassed. You didn’t know if you could hold the hand of your celebrity crush and… well, be normal. Pretend to be normal. You weren’t doing a very good job of it anyway.

You have to wonder, which was the worst introduction? The drunk, the bloody, or the one where you fell on your ass? God, you really are screwing this all the way up. You wonder how you’re inevitably going to make it even worse. There’s a part of you that desperately doesn’t want to meet any of the other Waynes, even as another part of you is screaming that it needs to.

If they knew they had a fangirl in their graveyard, you’re sure they’d kick you out. That was why you were lying about everything, not because you had intimacy issues.

Stop thinking, you idiot! You’re only making things more difficult for yourself with all your worrying and fretting. And maybe you should get off the ground, you looked stupid. You push to your feet, wiping your dirtied hands on the sweats.

He still doesn’t say anything when you stand, still just staring at you. His open staring is far too intimidating, so you scrounge for something to say.

“Your father? You- Is he alright?” you stammer over your words, giving Damian Wayne an awkward smile. He doesn’t return it, instead canting his head towards one of the windows.

You look toward where Damian Wayne gestured to, find nothing but an empty window frame, and then back to the ridiculously tall man. You swear, the guy had grown like a bean pole. He had to be something ridiculous, like 6’5, or maybe more. You were fairly certain you’d been taller than him at twelve, or thirteen, whenever it was he was first introduced to the world as Damian Wayne. Now, now… not so much.

“There’s nobody in there?” you ask, like you’re questioning your sanity. You are.

“My father’s shy,” He says, coolly shrugging one shoulder.

What. Bruce Wayne? Shy? Was he joking or something?

Damian Wayne stares down at you with narrowed green eyes, and dark brows in a harsh frown. His arms are crossed over his rich kid sweater, shiny black shoes tapping against the cobbles. That’s not the face of someone who makes jokes, you think.

You swallow, mind whirring as you try desperately to fix this conversation, “Right. Okay. I’ll… I’ll come back inside, then. Sorry for bothering you guys.”

He keeps staring at you. He doesn’t seem bothered.

“Sorry for bothering him?” you correct.

Damian gives one slow, cat-like blink of his eyes, and then turns with a tsk and walks away. It takes you a moment to realise you’re meant to follow him. It takes you even longer to actually catch up with him because he’s so fucking tall.

On TV he didn’t look this tall. You feel kind of betrayed, which is weird.

As you’re walking along, getting closer back to the manor, a stick or something pokes you in the foot. You curse, grabbing your foot. Thankfully you don’t start bleeding or something. You’d already be tracking dirt all over the inside of the impeccable space, you didn’t want to bring blood in as well. It takes a moment for you to realise the sound of Damian’s footsteps crunching in the grass has stopped, and you glance up.

He’s staring right at you again. He looks even less impressed with you, raising an eyebrow and mouth ticking downward. You put your foot down and tuck your hands behind your back in a very obvious anxious display.

“You went outside not wearing any shoes?” Damian Wayne asks, incredulous.

“I was… yeah, I forgot to,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. Not your best moment, but you weren’t really having any of those today. Or yesterday. Or the day before. Maybe you should stop thinking about that, actually.

“That’s disgusting,” The young Wayne sneers, and then turns and gives you his shoulder.

You think your heart maybe cracks a little. Well, they do say to never meet your idols. Maybe whoever wrote that quote had you in mind specifically, because now you were in… this situation. Ex-step-sister. If that was a thing. Your Wikipedia page said that you said that a lot, very insistent that you had absolutely nothing to do with the Waynes.

…It didn’t really look like you had nothing to do with the Waynes, from an outsider's perspective. Which obviously didn’t make any sense, since you were… you. You were not an outsider, not anymore.

This was too complicated. You needed a coffee. With like, so much sugar it’ll make you bounce from the walls.

Damian strides up the side entrance’s staircase and through the door, leaving it open for you to follow through. You hesitate at the doorway, looking over your shoulder to the graveyard. The statue calls you names in the distance, and although you feel like a stranger who doesn’t belong here, you manage to step back into the house.

You force yourself to walk through the hallway and into the kitchen, fists clenched tight at your side and your shoulders bunched up to your ears. Bruce Thomas Wayne, Timothy Jackson Drake, and the butler from earlier. Damian Al Ghul Wayne steps around the trio, picking some drink from the counter and moving to sit at the dining table at the edge of the room. There’s an open book on the table that he starts flicking through, and well, apparently that’s the end of your first conversation with the youngest Wayne.

You did… well, alright might be pushing it. You're still going to say you did alright.

Tim Drake gives you a sweet smile, catching your attention. The silky raven hair of his heart-shaped fringe falls over his beautiful, pale face, and for a moment there you totally forget that he’d called you out earlier like that. Which was just, such an odd thing to do. His hand lifts to scratch at the buzz cut under the floppy strands of hair. The movement mesmerises you. You look away from his sky blue eyes, very quickly realising they’re robbing you of the few remaining brain cells you have. And you need those, damn it. Especially because you’d already made the decision to hide from all your problems like a baby. Negative, negative…

“How’re you doing today?” Tim asks you, giving you a friendly greeting. It’s a welcome olive branch.

“I’m good,” you lie like you breathe, eyes glancing around the space. Bruce Wayne has his phone out and a mug of coffee in his hands. He sips from the cup, his focus swallowed by the tiny screen. You glance back over to Damian Wayne. Huh, it really does run in the family.

Your neck prickles, and you glance back at Tim again. You get a brief vision of his tired, unsmiling expression, and then it’s back to the angelic and gentle smile. You smile back at him, a wretched, awful twisting of the lips that you hope doesn’t look like a grimace.

Tim’s smile turns into a grin. It’s really too pretty and makes you shift in your seat uncomfortably. Damn it all, look away!

“Would you like some breakfast, young miss? I’m afraid we’ve run out of pancakes, but I’d be happy to make some more for you,” the butler says in an awfully familiar British accent. You think you know this person, but you can not remember from where. Shit. Your memory was bad on the best of days, much less after… after an event like last night.

Anyway, the food from earlier had been pancakes. Despite the delicious scent, you really didn’t want to make him make any more food for you. You felt like you were intruding as it was.

“Do you have any toast, or… cereal?” you suggest instead, wondering if rich people even bother with cereal. The butler chuckles, and you think, ‘Oh, yeah, probably not’.

“We have both, miss. Master Grayson has a particular fondness for cereal, in fact,” he informs you, which, oh, cool. You did in fact know that, you stalker you. You’d totally forgotten about that weird fact or the weird fact that you knew that weird fact. Dick Grayson has an Instagram where he posts reviews of different cereals, which of course you have notifications on for.

“It’s more of an obsession,” Tim says, resting his palm in his hand as he… continues to stare at you. Nobody else thinks his ogling is strange, so you try to ignore it as well. Try is the choice word.

“I like cereal too. It’s normal,” you say in defence of Dick, a natural and instinctual urge.

And apparently, the fact that you like cereal is fucking shocking, judging from the open-mouth looks the group gives you. Oh no, you’re supposed to hate him, right? You’re supposed to hate them all, actually. What had you called him on your phone? Something about being annoying and a dickhead?

Swallowing your inner scream, you move around the counter and towards the cupboards. Whatever, they’ll have to deal with this new and improved version of you, which didn’t despise everyone in the room. Along with being a terrible liar, you were also pretty bad at keeping secrets.

You don’t want to think about that, so instead you turn to Alfred.

“So,” you start, “Can I see your cereal collection?” you ask, like a totally normal person. Man, this cupboard’s looking pretty head-smashable right now.

This family has more tact than yours did, because they all manage to put their eyes back to what they were doing and pretend you weren’t acting really, really out of character. Rich people. They’re good at overlooking the crazy.

“Of course,” the butler clears his throat, “In here, you’ll find Master Dick’s collection-” score! Not another fan can claim this right, “-and in the fridge a carton of milk. Are you sure I couldn’t serve it for you, miss? I understand you might still be a little…”

His voice trails off. Little what?

He glances at the others and then leans in close like he’s going to tell you a secret. Behind a hand, he whispers, “Hungover.”

Ah. Well, yes, but you were a big girl who could make her cereal, even on hangover days. Kind of embarrassing it was that obvious, though. You were usually better at hiding how much of a mess you were.

“I’ll be fine, thank you,” you say, and the butler nods and backs off. You’re pretty sure at this point that he was the one who called you yesterday morning, but you still couldn’t quite recall his name. When you were out of sight, you’d check your phone for his contact information.

See? You could do this. Stealthy.

As you start perusing through the cereal options, Tim gets up from his spot by the counter and comes to stand next to you at the breakfast bar. He heads straight to the coffee machine, and you glance at it longingly.

It’s one of those cafe-quality fancy espresso makers, with an Italian name embossed in silver on the top. Tim manipulates the machine like a master, which you’re very jealous of because it might as well be alien technology to you. You miss your shitty drip coffee, at least that dingy little machine was loyal to you. Better than George.

“Coffee?” Tim Drake offers, glancing at you. Ah, the starry eyes are back. While Damian Wayne had been a mildly disappointing introduction, Mr. Drake was just reinforcing your celebrity worship. And of course, because your brain works against you, his offer reminds you of the daydreams you’d had on your first twenty-first birthday. Coffee shop au real person fiction- a new low, even for you.

Flustered, you look up at the ceiling. The old mansion is decorated in every single available corner, the plaster above spreading across the entire surface with delicate filigree and pretty curling patterns. It’s gorgeous, absolutely entrancing. That’s what you tell yourself at least.

“Please,” you say, your voice just the slightest bit too quiet. He hears you anyway.

It’s surprisingly domestic. Of course, you don’t know any of these people past face value and Wired YouTube interviews, but… it’s quite indulgent. This is sort of your dream, isn’t it? A full house of people enjoying their morning together. Peaceful bird song drifting in through open windows. The comfort of being around people you trust, not having to perform or put on a show. Well, you are very much putting on a show right now. It’s the thought that counts, or whatever.

“What would you like in it? We have sugar, milk, oat milk, and I like having a few syrups on hand,” Tim chatters excitedly, listing off the different ingredients he has on offer. Your poor ass stares at his rich one, and you are very rudely reminded these people live in different tax brackets than you.

Who the fuck had coffee syrups in their house? You could barely afford the little treats of caramel syrup you get every couple of months. The disappearance of the middle class was one you had witnessed personally.

You rattle off a very basic, bland order. Tim looks sort of disappointed in you which… well, you could be a coffee snob. You just didn’t have the time, usually. A flat white kept you going through the day, you didn’t need anything else. And so, Tim hands you a very bland coffee, and it is god sent. You can’t imagine how good it would be if you had mustered up your courage and asked for some caramel syrup.

Huh, you could be a coffee snob. You could be anything you wanted, really. And your first thought is being a coffee snob. Good God.

“Are you going to be staying?“ Bruce Wayne asks, immediately putting you on the spot. You weren’t ready for this, you were thinking about the coffees you could buy. Oh no, you really aren’t ready for this.

“At least for now, right?” Tim Drake says, just making it all the more stressful. You let out an awkward chuckle, fingers tight around your drink.

“Oh, I don’t want to be an inconvenience-”

Damian Wayne slams his mug down on the table, so hard a crack splinters up its side. He picks the cup up, strides across the kitchen, narrowed green eyes meeting yours for a second, and then he dumps the cup in a secret rubbish can. He murmurs an apology to the butler and then is out of the room.

Okay, well, you certainly feel like an inconvenience.

The butler clears his throat, and says, “Please forgive young master Damian. He’s been having a difficult time recently, I hope you can understand.”

And you think, ‘bitch, a difficult time?! He’s not the one who almost died last night!’ but what you say is, “Of course, I completely understand. I don’t want to bother him anymore so I’d really like to leave today.”

Mr. Wayne laces his fingers together, blue eyes giving you an assessing look.

“Stay for the day, and you can leave tonight. I want to make sure you’re truly alright,” he eventually says, and the mere presence of the man has you yielding to his commands. Didn’t really matter you were an adult who’d managed to survive this long on your own, you were listening to the big scary guy when he told you what to do.

Well, that’s that! You make your cereal and have a very quiet breakfast. You can’t tell if they’re being quiet because you’re here, or if mornings are usually like this. You hope they’re usually like this. Once you’ve finished your very nice cereal (one of the highest rated on Dick’s Instagram) you place the bowl by the sink. You want to wash it, but when you ask Alfred he gives you a look like you kicked his dog. Okay, you’ll just go then.

You’re about to sneak away, when you realise Tim’s staring at you… again…? But this time he seems quite focused on your clothing. His eyes follow the double lines on the side of your sweatpants, before settling on the Beatles logo on your shirt. He hums at it. Raises his brows.

“I’m sorry, I borrowed this because I didn’t have any other clothes. Is there something wrong with me wearing this?” you ask, and then experience a moment of horror, “This doesn’t belong to you, does it?”

“Hmm?” Tim chirps, “Oh, no, don’t worry. It’s not mine.”

And then he turns away from you in a very clear dismissal. Nice, you really wanted to go hide for an hour or two. With one last awkward wave to Bruce Thomas Wayne, you scurry out of the kitchen and back to the bedroom you’d started thinking of as yours. You need to figure out how you're going to handle all this, and you're going to do it alone. Maybe with some dessert, if you can find it. You wouldn't say you think better with sugar running in your veins, but it definitely makes you more willing to deal with the bullshit that is your life. Hopefully it'd work in your new one, too.

Tim listens to your retreating footsteps, waiting till you’re far enough away to begin talking to Bruce. Humans were creatures of habit, so you’d probably be going back to the same room you slept in last night. He thinks Damian and him were the only ones who noticed whose shirt you were wearing, B’s off his game today. You’ve really managed to mess him up, to Tim’s delight.

“See? Dames was totally fine with her being here,” Tim says, cheerily enjoying his youngest sibling’s suffering. Bruce sighs, witheringly, lifting his hand to rub against the headache he always has. He’s probably noticed the excited, slightly fanatic gleam that’s entered into Tim’s eyes.

It was sort of obvious. This was all so exciting! You’d come back, sporting absolutely none of the defensive vitriol you usually have, and ate breakfast together. You took a coffee out of Tim’s hands. You’d willingly spoken to the devil, who everybody in the family knew hated you as much as you hated him, and even more than that-

You’d spoken to Bruce. Tim was sporting the idea that you’d gotten head trauma, at this point in time.

“Okay, fine. You get the mission, but-” Tim has to resist the urge to clap his hands together like a gleeful child “-but no extra cameras. I’m serious, Tim, if I find out you’ve invaded her privacy just after she’s starting to warm up to us again-”

“She wouldn’t know,” Tim complains, cutting the Bat off with a roll of his eyes.

“She’s smarter than you’d think,” Bruce shakes his head. Tim has to disagree, after the catastrophe that was last night. Unless of course, you were just playing with them all. So many options, it’s dizzying.

“We’ll shelve that argument for later. So, I want full control of the case, and in turn, I’ll do another two weeks as CEO,” Tim waves off Bruce’s complaints, going straight into haggling. The CEO position was tossed between the two of them like a hot potato, and it was one of Tim’s favourite bargaining tools.

“I am absolutely not agreeing to that, a month and nothing less.”

“This is why half your children don’t talk to you, but sure, whatever. Chase away your last, loyal loving son-”

“My God, Tim. Three fucking weeks, and if I hear another word I will hand this matter over to Grayson,” Bruce sighs, sounding a bit defeated.

Tim gives an offended gasp, placing his hand against his chest. And then he realises Bruce might actually be serious, and freaks out a bit.

“He’d be bad for it. Far too personally involved. You definitely don’t want to do that,” he says, leg bouncing under the table. Of course, the Bat notices, but he doesn’t mention it. He wouldn’t take this from Tim, they both knew he was getting too frazzled around the edges. He needed something to focus on, to ground him.

You were the perfect project. He loved his projects.

“I am aware. But the girls are out of town, and uncontactable. And I think if I gave Damian this assignment the two of them would kill each other.”

“No Jason option, sir?” Tim says because he’s a shit-stirrer and wants to get to work.

Tim succeeds in chasing Bruce away. He’s left to have his coffee in peace as the old man quickly flees the room at the mention of the son he's on the worst terms with. For the next few hours, Tim taps away on his computer, enjoying his time.

And when the front doors open, his ears prick, and a decidedly evil grin spreads on his face.

“I’m home!” Dick calls out, words travelling through the grand manor.

Tim gets up from his seat and wanders leisurely to the main hall, where Dick stands. He’s got a suitcase by his side, filled with all the things he’s brought up from the Blud. When he spots Tim, Dick’s face spreads in a familiar sunny smile. He quickly rushes to Tim’s side, swallowing the younger brother in a hug. Tim groans at the tight squeezing.

Despite his clinginess, it was good to see him. His tanned skin glowed healthily, and his curly black hair was messy over his brow. Sapphire blue eyes sparkled. He was happy to be home, despite everything that was going on. Dick always looked like he’d just gotten back from a run because he usually had. It was hard to get the guy to sit still for even a minute, much less stop parkouring over every imaginable surface.

“Tim! How’s it been? Ah, it’s so good to be home,” Dick starts, and again, Tim groans. When Dick starts yammering he never stops.

“I’m good, man. We can talk later, you should go put your things away before Alfred does,” Tim reminds Dick, and Dick pouts. It was a general rule that unless it was cooking, the family wasn’t supposed to rely on Alfred for everything.

“Alright, alright. I’ll be down in a minute! I have so much to tell you,” Dick relents, hand lifting to mess with his hair. Tim pushes him off, glaring at the man, and Dick laughs.

Tim gives Dick a tired wave as the gymnast bounds up the stairs to his bedroom. Tim watches him disappear down the hallways, and thinks, ‘I wish I could see this happen.’ He sighs, guess he’ll just have to hear Dick retell the story later. The distant sound of your shrieking voice has him chuckling. Yeah, he’ll hear about it later, he’s sure.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #batfam x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

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headspace-hotel · 1 year

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some times i see people talking about the Earth and climate change saying things like "now i know it is difficult to deal with utter hopelessness, terror, and visiting the thoughts of death"

and it's like wow I am so deeply sorry about the suffering. but...concern. Concern. Tell me, am I missing something important? Why do I feel a sense of hope for our planet? Am I a lonely fool? Have I been consumed by naïveté and misguided optimism?

That would be weird. It feels weird. It feels like I would be well suited to despair. My natural temperament is Mortal Terror making my body crushed for a thousand years at the bottom of the deepest trenches of the ocean. I've thought before "I can't live any more. This exceeds the tensile strength of the human spirit."

And then? After irreversible catastrophic failure of the soul, there is...what?

We try to imagine the future where we fight to save our home and it is very painful. The resistance feels so small and the machine of death feels so vast. But something's missing.

Everyone else is missing—the plants, trees, bugs, beasts, and creatures. Hello? Are the other humans seeing this? Nature wants you to know that she is not a princess in a tower. Look! Look at the chaos moving through every cell! Iterating! Adapting! Becoming! Thriving! Watch the pollinators tirelessly at work, observe the mycorrhizal network in the forest floor distributing the rich fruits of decay and photosynthesis for every inhabitant! Pay attention! We belong here too. They feed and shelter us, give us the very air we breathe, and in return we plant and propagate, cull, thin, and burn, shape, trample, till, shepherd and sprout seeds. Our species can look toward the future, to the world of our descendants. We can call every plant and animal by name and teach our children to use and care for them responsibly. We can feel this anger, pain, and grief on behalf of the family of Life, OUR family, and we can love the smallest beetle and the humblest moss.

Look at it! This thing is nothing like me, it does not benefit me, it has no use or purpose for me, but LOOK at it! Look at its intricate structure! Look at the marvelousness of its behaviors and biological functions! Look at its uniqueness throughout the whole universe! Look at it, and see its infinite value!

I saved a baby tree from the scorching hot gravel of a parking lot. I watched it grow and thrive in the hands of its caretaker. Many more followed, trees and herbs and flowers, rescued and carefully placed in cups and old tubs that once held yogurt and sour cream. This is so strange, I thought. They're everywhere, offering themselves for free, and no one thinks to take them. Everyone thinks transplanting a tree is hard and that nothing grows on the edge of the pavement but weeds. But it's so easy??? This is weird. Plant Nurseries Hate Her: Get Free Plants With This One Weird Trick.

I protected an old barren garden patch where nothing had thrived from being mowed and weed-whacked, and transplanted little plants that I found. I marveled at the bees that came. Chicory bloomed, then asters and goldenrod. I shed actual tears over a spicebush swallowtail. I ordered some milkweed from the internet, and the monarchs came for them. Less then twenty-five bucks for a divine experience like this. Wow, everyone else really needs to know!

I started volunteering at a nature center, and was allowed to transplant flowers where they sprouted in inopportune locations. I collected tons of seeds all fall and winter long.

There is much, much more, all of it bigger than I ever would have imagined. But this spring there were more birds, in number and in species, than I'd ever seen in my back yard before. Chickadees, swallows, finches, nuthatches, jays, cardinals, warblers, sparrows, woodpeckers of every kind...I remembered just a couple years prior when all I ever saw out there was a couple grackles or starlings or robins, with the occasional sparrow. Those birds come in flocks rather than couples now. And then the bumblebee arrived. An American bumblebee, endangered now, a queen. For a few days she was always out there, would fly out and buzz around me when I came out to tend to my now-innumerable plants. It's nesting time for them. She chose this place I was creating. She saw that this place would take care of her.

A week ago, I discovered wild strawberries growing in my Mamaw's driveway. I found lyreleaf sage growing beside a gravel road. I've become a master of transplanting; I took several of each home. Yesterday, I saw a tiny, metallic blue bee, an Osmia mason bee. Today, I saw an oriole and a strange, very fancy fly. I see something new almost every day. Every day I am being irreversibly changed as a person. How did I ever fail to see how much this matters?

I said I feel hope...do I feel it? I don't think it's a feeling, I think it's a practice. It's being part of our communities and our ecosystems. Nature's interconnectedness is both reality and example: to survive, we take care of one another. And when one member of the community helps another thrive, it creates a cascade that increases the thriving of all. Just by existing, you help us all survive.

You can only take care of so many plants before you have to give some away. You can only hold so much knowledge before you have to give it away. I gave seeds to a dozen different flowers to my next-door neighbor and she invited me inside and wouldn't let me leave without food, and we talked about plants and trees. A family friend lets me have goats' milk and heirloom vegetables in exchange for help around the farm, and I listen to him talk about trees, bugs, and soil and learn so much I feel like I'm about to explode from knowledge.

Being a caretaker is unavoidably a community-oriented, community-forming thing. You can't grow plants all by yourself. Your garden will make too many tomatoes. Share them. Your milkweed will make hundreds and hundreds of seeds. Spread them. Wild blackberries invite you to take and eat. Your lonely retired neighbor invites you to talk and keep her company. Once you grow delicious fruits or little oak trees, you always have a reason to greet someone and say, "Look, it is a gift!"

We're not alone. We are not separate. We take care of each other. Every species, every individual. A single action of caretaking creates a cascade effect of thriving. A single unapologetic love for a creature creates a blossom of curiosity and fascination in everyone surrounding. It's so powerful.

As my chemical romance says "I am not afraid to keep on living"

#nature #community #plants #gardening #you are not separate from every other thing #the wonders #caretaking #plantarchy

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thedensworld · 2 months

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Your Best Man | J.Ww

Pairing: Wonwoo x reader

Genre: fluff, humor, established relationship

Summary: Wonwoo has tried his best to become the best man you've ever met. At the end, he is the best man.

Author note: let's have a break from angsty suffering story and have some fluffywonu!

Wonwoo loves you. He loves you with all of his heart. Honestly, he loves you with all of his life. In conclusion he loves you very much. Wonwoo sat there, an empty soju glass in hand, his words flowing like the river of affection he held for you. Mingyu, realizing his friend had reached the brink of tipsiness, halted the soju parade, albeit reluctantly, knowing Wonwoo was just getting started.

"Mingyu, remember when I fell head over heels for her at first sight?" Wonwoo's tone was earnest, albeit slightly slurred, as he delved into his favorite topic, you.

Mingyu nodded, taking a break from his spicy budae jiggae to indulge Wonwoo's sentimental journey.

"She was stunning," Wonwoo continued, his gaze drifting upwards as if searching for you among the stars. "I mean, she's always been gorgeous, but back then? Wow. Even Cupid would've been jealous of my aim that day."

He chuckled, the warmth of nostalgia enveloping him as he recalled the moment fate intervened, intertwining your destinies.

"In hindsight, it's like the universe had a checklist and decided, 'Yep, these two are meant to be.' And who am I to argue with the universe, right?"

Wonwoo's laughter filled the air, a testament to the joy you brought him, even in the haze of alcohol and spicy food.

So there they sat, one lost in love and the other in a spicy stew, united in their admiration for the wonder that was you. And as Wonwoo raised his glass in a tipsy salute to your magnificence, Mingyu couldn't help but toast silently to the cosmic comedy that brought you all together. Cheers to love, laughter, and the occasional soju-fueled confession.

Years ago, Wonwoo became acquainted with you through a movie he watched with Vernon. You were a rising rookie actor at the time. Fate, however, had a more direct introduction in store for him. It happened one evening by the Han River, where Wonwoo sought solace in the night air and a bowl of ramyeon, alone with his thoughts.

The tranquility was shattered by the intrusive click of a camera shutter, followed by a beam of flashlight. Initially annoyed by the presence of paparazzi, Wonwoo's irritation quickly turned to anger as he contemplated the invasion of privacy suffered by countless others in the industry.

His resolve to confront the paparazzi was cut short by a sudden thud and a groan. Rushing to the source of the commotion, Wonwoo discovered the paparazzi lying on the ground while another figure stood nearby, inspecting the camera.

"I know this is your job, but this is not right," Other person admonished, voice firm with conviction. "You've invaded someone's privacy and caused them untold discomfort. Can you even sleep at night knowing what you do?"

As the other person, you, retrieved the memory card, your eyes met Wonwoo's. In that moment of shared understanding, Wonwoo offered a thumbs-up in appreciation of your intervention, sparking a conversation between the two of you.

You explained that you recognized the paparazzi, having caught them fabricating rumors within the industry. Wonwoo nodded in solidarity, acknowledging his own frustration with such unethical practices.

"I was about to take action myself," Wonwoo admitted, shaking his head. "I'm relieved to know I'm not the only one who feels this way."

And so, amidst the backdrop of the Han River, a bond formed between two strangers united by their disdain for injustice and their shared desire to protect the integrity of others. It was a chance encounter that would leave a lasting impression on both Wonwoo and you, shaping the course of their future interactions.

A conversation led to another, as late-night discussions evolved into playful banter and eventually escalated into vulnerable talks. What began as strangers connecting gradually blossomed into friendship, and then something more profound – love. Wonwoo cherished every step of the journey with you, never once regretting the decision to let you into his life. With you by his side, life seemed brighter, the shadows dissipating whenever you were together, and he couldn't shake the feeling that you were the one sent by a higher power to fill the void within him.

"Do you want to spend the rest of your life with me?" Wonwoo's question hung in the air, heavy with anticipation and hope. When you said yes, he made a silent vow to himself to be the best man you'd ever known. He listened to your concerns, ensured you never felt pressured, and held you in the highest regard, becoming your staunchest supporter whenever your movies or dramas premiered.

Of course, it wasn't all smooth sailing. Like any couple, Wonwoo and you faced their fair share of ups and downs. But each challenge served as a lesson, strengthening their bond and shaping them into better individuals for each other. If Wonwoo were to recount their biggest argument, it would likely be the time he recommended you to a director he knew.

Wonwoo happened to know a veteran noir movie director, a figure you admired deeply for his work. During a discussion between Wonwoo and the director at a premiere event, your name came up, sparking a conversation that would ultimately change the course of events.

"Your girlfriend is Ji Y/n, right? Her acting was exceptional in the last movie," the director remarked, his interest piqued.

"She's a huge fan of yours," Wonwoo replied. "I know it might be unconventional, but I was hoping you could consider casting her in your next project. It would mean a lot to her."

To Wonwoo's surprise, the director revealed that he was indeed seeking an actress for his upcoming movie and would be delighted if you were interested in joining the cast.

Initially, the news seemed like a dream come true. However, Wonwoo's excitement turned to concern when he received a series of missed calls from you while he was away on a business trip. Upon calling you back, he was met with the sound of your sobbing, instantly stirring worry within him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

"I never asked for your help with my career," you replied, your tone heavy with frustration.

Wonwoo's brow furrowed as you mentioned the director's name, realizing he had unwittingly stepped into a sensitive issue.

"I never asked you to secure a role for me in his movie, so why does everyone think I got it through a connection?" you inquired him, your voice trembling with emotion.

Wonwoo sighed, acknowledging his mistake. "I was talking to him that night, and he mentioned you—"

"He talked behind my back saying you begged him to put me into the cast."

"I never asked for that!" you continued, your frustration evident.

"I know," Wonwoo conceded, regret weighing heavy on his shoulders. "He didn't say what you think he did."

Feeling hurt and misunderstood, you ended the call abruptly, leaving Wonwoo with a sinking feeling in his chest. Acting swiftly, he instructed his manager to drive him to your place, determined to resolve the misunderstanding before it escalated further.

Wonwoo entered your apartment well past midnight, his fatigue from a long day's schedule overshadowed by the weight of guilt gnawing at him. Upon seeing you seated on the couch, head bowed in distress, he felt a pang of remorse pierce through him.

"What did he say to you?" Wonwoo inquired gently, his voice laden with concern as he approached you.

"It doesn't matter what he said," you replied, your tone laced with frustration. "What matters is that you overstepped by asking him to cast me in his movie! I want to build my career on my own terms, and I want people to recognize that."

Wonwoo knelt in front of you, seeking to meet your gaze. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his remorse evident. "I just thought—since you admire his work—it would be a good opportunity. I didn't anticipate this outcome."

A heavy silence hung between you before you confessed the truth. "I walked away from the role midway through filming. I couldn't bear to work with someone who talk trash their talent like that."

Wonwoo nodded understandingly, pulling you into a comforting embrace. "I understand," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to your troubled thoughts. "You did what felt right for you."

As you feared, rumors began to circulate in the weeks following the announcement of your departure from the movie. Speculations about your connections within the industry surfaced, casting a shadow over your hard-earned reputation. Yet through it all, Wonwoo stood by your side, offering unwavering support and reassurance.

He knew the truth, and that was enough for him. Together, you weathered the storm of gossip, emerging stronger and more united than ever before. For Wonwoo, there was no greater reward than seeing you stand firm in your convictions, unyielding in the face of adversity. And as long as you had each other, no amount of speculation could tarnish the bond you shared.

Years later, you and Wonwoo went public with your marriage, and he was grateful for the overwhelmingly positive feedback you both received. The wedding was an intimate affair, attended only by close family and colleagues. For Wonwoo, it marked the culmination of his journey to become the best man you'd ever known, now leveled up to become the best husband himself.

He found joy in the simple moments of life, relishing in the comfort of sleeping and waking up beside you each day. To the surprise of his fellow members, who often referred to him as the prince by his fans, Wonwoo had embraced domesticity wholeheartedly. Learning to cook, clean, give massages, and take on any task that arose became second nature to him, especially during your pregnancy with your firstborn, Jeon Jihan.

Now, at five years old, Jihan possessed a strong will of his own, often refusing to hold hands with Wonwoo when being taken to daycare. Wonwoo couldn't help but wonder whose attitude Jihan had inherited—though deep down, he knew it was undoubtedly from you. Nevertheless, it didn't dampen Wonwoo's love for you and his son. He cherished every moment spent with his family, grateful for the love and happiness they brought into his life.

One day, while Wonwoo was away on tour and Jihan was just two years old, he heard from his fellow members that the women—referred to as "their girls"—had gathered at Seungcheol's wife's place. Concerned for your well-being, Wonwoo immediately called you to check in.

"Are you joining them?" he asked, his worry palpable over the phone line.

"Will you bring Jihan?" he added, mindful of your responsibilities as a parent.

"Of course, he can't take care of himself," came your sarcastic reply.

Wonwoo chuckled at your dry humor. "But didn't you say our car broke down yesterday?"

"I'll find a solution, don't worry about it, darling!" you reassured him.

However, after the concert, Wonwoo discovered from Seungcheol himself that you had ridden his bike to their place—with Jihan in tow. Not a word of this had come from you. Frustration and disbelief churned in Wonwoo's chest as he made a call to you.

"How could you ride a bike with our child being that young?" he demanded, his tone edged with concern.

"Jihan loves it!" you countered, sending a photo taken by another woman at a traffic light, showing Jihan smiling while securely attached to your front.

Wonwoo facepalmed with his hand, unable to believe what he was hearing. "You could have endangered both of you and Jihan. You're not allowed to ride my bike again!"

It wasn't that Wonwoo doubted your skill—you had been riding bikes for years, a shared passion that had drawn you both together. However, the idea of riding a bike with your child had never crossed his mind, nor did he ever imagine you would consider it. The incident led to his members labeling him as a "gangster husband," a nickname stemming from your unconventional lifestyle and characters in the movies.

"So what's the matter now, hyung? You said you're okay, you love her, you'll support her no matter what. Then what's with the change of heart?" Mingyu confronted drunken Wonwoo.

Wonwoo clumsily put down his glass, "You're not married, Mingyu. You won't understand my pain!" he declared, slurring his words as Mingyu rolled his eyes in amusement.

Without missing a beat, Mingyu dialed your number. "Hello, Y/n! Did you miss your husband already? He's being a pain in my ass tonight. Should I take him home?"

Wonwoo's eyes widened in panic as he realized what Mingyu was up to, but his drunken attempts to grab Mingyu's phone proved futile.

"Just the usual babbling about his undying love for you and some other nonsense. I'll be there in 20, okay? Bye!" Mingyu announced cheerfully before hanging up.

"No! I don't wanna go home! I don't wanna face her like this," Wonwoo protested dramatically, his words slurred as he tried to resist Mingyu's attempts to escort him home.

Mingyu sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. "This hyung..." he muttered, resigning himself to the task of dragging a stubborn and intoxicated Wonwoo back to the safety of your arms.

"Where's Jihan?" Wonwoo groaned, nursing his pounding head while seated at the dining table, his breakfast being served by you. The mere act of opening his eyes felt like a Herculean task.

You shrugged casually, "Someone woke him up last night, and he ended up staying up late. He's still asleep."

Wonwoo's brows furrowed, knowing full well that the culprit was none other than himself. Yet, he was surprised by your nonchalant reaction to Jihan's extended slumber. "He's not going to daycare today?"

You shook your head, taking a seat across from him. "I'm free today, except for my ballet class at 4. Your mom wants to see Jihan, so I'll be taking him to your parents' place before then."

The mention of your ballet class jogged Wonwoo's memory of his conversation with Mingyu the night before. "You're still taking ballet classes?"

You set down your utensils and fixed him with a steady gaze. "Yes," you confirmed firmly. "And Mingyu filled me in on your little chat last night."

Wonwoo grumbled, "I'll punch him later," before offering a weak smile in your direction.

"I've decided to take the role no matter what, darling. It'll be my first-ever romcom movie," you declared, determination shining in your eyes.

Wonwoo sighed deeply, his headache worsening at the thought. "That's the problem, babe. I'm just not ready for that!" he confessed, his tone tinged with a hint of panic.

"What are you not ready for?" you queried, raising an eyebrow as Wonwoo stretched his hands and gestured vaguely.

"All the lovey-dovey stuff you'll have to do in the movie! Kissing, hugging, and acting all smiley with other men—I'm just not prepared for that!" Wonwoo exclaimed, his expression a mix of concern and discomfort.

You scoffed, "I thought we were done talking about this. I asked for your opinion, remember? If you don't want me to take the role, I won't. But you said your opinion doesn't matter as long as I'm happy, and I'm more than happy to challenge myself with this role."

Wonwoo nodded solemnly. "I know, but that was before I found out about the intimate scenes like kissing and hugging!"

You nodded understandingly. "You're right. And besides, you're the only man who can kiss and hug me like that."

Wonwoo sighed, relenting slightly. "Just kiss me three more times every day, and I'll pretend like nothing happened," he bargained, a hint of resignation in his voice. After all, he is your best man, right?

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etirabys · 4 months

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meandering post about reading Orson Scott Card again

I've been offline starting at 9pm every day (except once. I was drunk at karaoke and asked for anons at 8:30pm) for six weeks, with the result that in befuddled boredom two nights ago I picked up Orson Scott Card's Songmaster from the house bookshelf.

I read Ender's Game and three sequels when I was a teen thought the books were mid. Since those are OSC's best works I assumed he had nothing more interesting to offer me and didn't try more of him for fifteen years, but Songmaster was compelling enough that I immediately afterwards picked up The Memory of Earth, the first book of a pentalogy.

TMoE is extremely my jam: after humanity blows itself up on Earth, AIs monitor thriving human civilizations in the planets that survivors managed to escape to, and suppress any tech that enables large scale violence by exerting low key mind control via satellites. But forty million years pass, many of the satellites break down, and the AI needs help from humans to restore capabilities. Because as its control wanes, people are starting to e.g. conceive of airplanes or bombs again, and override the injunctions against entering military alliances more than two edges of connection away.

The AI is worshipped as a god all over the planet, but the fourteen year old protagonist that becomes one of the AI's agents tells the AI from the beginning that he'll break with it if its morality seems wrong to him. I like the fourteen year old – unlike Ender or Songmaster's protagonist (adult minds piloting ten year old bodies), he's a normal gifted kid who's unpopular 50% due to his ego and big mouth and 50% because he's socially inept and offends people even when he's trying to be nice.

Songmaster is also partly about a permanent solution to large-scale violence, albeit through one guy who establishes a monopoly on violence and sweeps in pax galactica. Both it and TMoE are preoccupied with the eradication of suffering from evil / human violence, which is closer to my resonant frequency than narratives about defeating particular people or ideologies. At the moment I can't think of any other book with such an insistent focus on the matter than T.H. White's The Once and Future King. It's hard to make a compelling story out of, and I don't think Songmaster really succeeds, but TMoE's premise is well suited to explore that. (I'm also enjoying the matriarchal culture where everyone is expected to have multiple serial-monogamous marriages.) After reading 70% of TMoE last night I wrote:

Usually when I read fiction there's a small part of me going, how can I use this as fodder for my own growth, how can I remix or improve or react against this, how do the author and I measure against each other? (If the quality and content are at an anti-sweet spot, the small part becomes quite large and I feel all teeth towards the author.) But on occasion I read something so close that the absence of that measuring-feeling is its own sensation – ego departs, or at least is split across two bodies. There's just amity and recognition

And it's pretty interesting to feel this way about Card for, well, the reasons.

(If you're familiar with Card drama none of the following will be new to you; I'm coming to it fresh so the rest of this post is me going "uh... wow")

I vaguely knew he was a homophobic Mormon who'd gotten into fights about gay stuff, but I couldn't tell from the Ender books I read. But in Songmaster his issues spring off the page in such a weird way. Every fifth Goodreads review of this book is "Card, u gay?" because, well,

(One review, possibly from a fellow Mormon, that went "Card, it's so sinful of you to be this gay in your novel". Why did he write this book that would predictably make everyone mad...)

it's full of gay male desire. The protagonist (Ansset) is approximately a castrato and characters notice him sexually a lot. The first and only time Ansset has sex it's with a Kinsey 4-5 male character he loves, who's married to a woman but has fallen in love with Ansset. It turns out the drugs Ansset took to prolong his singing career painfully and only-kinda-figuratively explode your balls when you have your first orgasm and you'll never feel sexual desire again. (You'd think his loving teachers would have warned him of that, but, whatever, they didn't.) The other guy is literally castrated in punishment for inadvertently torturing a highly valuable castrato. It's pretty bald: GAY SEX IS ALMOST IRRESISTIBLY TEMPTING BUT YOU SHOULDN'T DO IT.

(Sidenote: both Ansset and the guy's wife are very close and have a "there's enough love to go around" attitude about the gay sex initially, before they go "wait Josif is a SERIAL MONOGAMIST... he can only love one person at a time... the moment he had the gay sex his marriage was destroyed". It's funny in a mildly stupid way that Card would set up this parable of homosexuality destroying lives and a marriage but almost everyone involved is peacefully ready to sail into an open marriage. I guess it makes sense if you want to say very clearly that THE GAY PART IS THE BAD PART)

which is fascinating to me, because... why would you tell on yourself like that

(81k also told me secondhand of an essay? interview? where Card openly says "we have to stand against legalizing gay marriage because everyone will get gay married and society will collapse", so that's informing my read of Songmaster as well)

I am pretty dang open about my personal life online but if I had a lot of feelings I thought were disgusting and immoral I would not write a novel dripping with those feelings before pointedly castrating the leads for them. Especially if it wasn't relevant to the actually highbrow themes of (checks notes) winning over your adversaries with kindness and never relinquishing your monopoly on violence. I would be so so so so embarrassed to let this go to print, it's so psychologically transparent, what was he thinking

(Well, I assume he's a very different person with different social incentives. For all I know, people in his church went "hey Orson we read your book and it's clear that you're gay but signaling strongly that you won't give into the gay feelings, we're here for you, it was really brave of you to publish this".)

#rambl #orson scott card #eti reads stuff #eti reads the homecoming saga #songmaster #content note: homophobia

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coolshadowtwins · 2 months

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PIDW!YQY goes back in time to his disciple days after he dies. He’s alone and upset, and determined to do things right this time. He won’t take a sword too early, but he will still rush to go save SJ because that has to fix something, right?

At least this time he already knows how to read and write, and the basics of cultivating. Everyone is heralding him as a prodigy, and as soon as his child body is ready, he’s taking a sword to go save SJ.

Except there is one other thing he needs to do. He can leave most of his future sect siblings alone to do their thing, and catch up with them later. There’s no point in interfering with something that doesn’t need his help. But! That slimy traitor Shang Qinghua!

He caused so many problems for them. YQY did not want him as a head disciple of An Ding, or as the peak lord, so he goes to do something about it.

Only… Did SQH always act like that? Was he always so nervous? YQY watched him almost cry as an older disciple shoved work onto him, instead of glaring and backstabbing them later. What had happened to him over the years?

What is actually happening is that YQY had known OG!SQH and this is Airplane. Completely different people! But YQY doesn’t know that, and can only assume that SQH betrayed the sect after years and years of hardship! And YQY is selfish, and very SJ focused, but even he isn’t so much of a hypocrite as to condemn SQH for something he wouldn’t condemn SJ for.

So he goes and befriends him. Mostly to keep an eye on him, and to stop him from being a traitor, but still. Meanwhile, SQH is shocked and confused why the future sect leader is even talking to him?? And what to be his friend?? He didn’t really have much of those, and maybe he liked the company, but he knew what was to happen! What was the point in getting close to YQY only to watch him suffer?

Wow, screw that. SQH pulls some strings and goes up to YQY one day and says, “Wow! Look! A mission, for us, two young disciples without swords, days away! Won’t this be fun?!”

YQY stared at the mission sheet, which looks entirely authentic, blankly. It takes them right to the town that he had left SJ in. “Where did you get this?”

“My Shizun.”

“….”

“….your Shizun?”

“…”

“Uhg, find. I might have forged it. For a vacation? It’ll be fun.”

It was not fun. But they got SJ back and ran for it and made it back to the sect in good time. Their shizun’s were upset, but they couldn’t find a way that the mission could have been forged because it was that good. YQY was suddenly glad to have SQH on his side, and is now completely convinced that he had seer powers.

Maybe that was why he joined the demons last time? Years of abuse at the sect, and knowledge that demons would win? YQY hates it, but is only more determined to keep SQH as a friend. He starts laying hints that if SQH ever meets a demon, that YQY would like to know about it! He’ll be less made if he was told, as opposed to finding out later, promise!

SJ, for his part, can tell what YQY is doing to a point. He’s just glad that YQY has actually started manipulating people to his advantage. His Qi-Ge is really growning up.

Don’t ask me what happens what SQH does come up to YQY to tell him about MBJ. I haven’t thought that far lol

#svsss #shen qingqiu #shang qinghua #shen jiu #yue qingyuan #time travel

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donutz · 4 months

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Dogday x gn reader angst

Request from Tumblr—! Here you go Dawko-fanpage☆

—☆You are a human in this

Searching around, you always find something interesting.

Like the dead bodies of toys, or blood splatters, a pool? That's something you didn't expect in this place.

One thing you figured out yourself about this place is that it's huge. It's like the square miles of this place is more than Mount Everest!

And even in this hell hole, you still made some friends. Some as in Poppy, Kissy Missy, and a smaller version of Dogday. It jumped on you when you weren't aware, but it didn't try to eat or kill you. It rubbed its head against yours, maybe these tiny critters can actually be cute.

Other than the fact they eat humans and toys.

And have jumped a singular man as a group.

Let's just hope this small Dogday stays innocent.

You were in a somewhat safe spot. These colorful and soft walls kind of distract you from the real world.

You wanted to rest, just for a while.

But something's telling you to go ahead. And the fact there's a murderous purple cat on the loose, hunting you down.

To have you not thinking about it, you pet the small puppy.

Cutely, it stuck its tongue out and started wagging its tail. Even the slightest bit of happiness can comfort you here.

You closed your eyes, resting, thinking about what to do next. When a small head lightly bumped against your stomach, bringing you back to the real world.

“Why'da bump me hm?” The tiny jumped off your lap and went somewhere.

“Oh, wait I don't wanna lose you!” You whisper yelled. You kept your eyes on it, following where it’s going.

You stumble upon an eerie hallway, being suspicious, you scruffed the small Dogday just in case. It tried to get out of your grasp, squirming, “I know you want to just go everywhere, but c’mon at least have some security for yourself.” You said to the tiny critter.

“You! You’re Poppy’s angel!” The rough voice scared you, making you flinch. When you saw the source of the voice, your eyes went wide.

“Come to save us.” The small one stopped squirming and was also looking at the much bigger Dogday. Maybe that’s why it was running over here, to tell you about the suffering life form you never knew about.

“Nothing left to save, not here.” He looked up at you, noticing you had the smaller critters, aka the ones who were eating him bit by little bit.

“...”

He shook his head and resumed his talking, “You’re in Catnap’s home, angel.” But he saw that you were distracted. With talking to the smaller version of him.

“Eat those belts and I’ll give you scratches for the longest time.” You whispered. The smaller Dogday understood and jumped onto Dogday’s arms, he flinched, scared he’ll get hurt again.

“Uhh, continue with what you’re saying, the smaller you is gonna eat away at the belts, don’t worry he’s tamed.”

“... If you say so Angel, You’re in their home. A million pairs of—” Dogday’s left arm was released.

‘Wow he sure is efficient..’ Dogday thought.

“eyes are on you now… Watching, waiting, hungr—” You caught Dogday before he could fully fall on the ground.

“See? Tamed!” You said with a smile as the small Dogday crawled up your arm. “Now, let’s go before all of us get eaten!”

Tiny Dogday crawled into your pocket as the bigger Dogday shifted to your back.

Even with the bigger Dogday being huge, you still managed through. I guess you being here gives you big muscles.

You finally made it outside. And could rest while at it.

“Bigger Dogday, I’m gonna patch you up. I don’t know how to reattach your legs back, but I’ll try to not have your organs nearly fall out.” You stated, assuring that Dogday won’t be in as much pain he’s currently in.

“You don’t need to angel—”

“But I’m gonnaaaa. So stop being so selfless.” You could hear small giggles coming from your pocket.

“What, you think this is funny to you? Huh ya little vermin?” The tiny was still giggling, even louder than before.

You let out a sigh and continued on, Dogday smiled(an actual one) a little from his smaller version.

You found medical supplies and went to work on patching up Dogday, trying to be as careful as you can. He’s been through enough before you even got here.

The tinier Dogday watched your process, jumping from your pocket and rubbing its head against Dogday’s much larger hand. He flinched a bit, but pet his smaller version.

After 15-30 minutes, you were done. “Alright, I’m done!”

“Angel, this is amazing I—!”

You heard the familiar sound of metal scratching against a floor. Oh come on, you can’t get a little bit of rest?! It was the Prototype, you thought he only comes near you if you killed somebody! And Dogday nor his smaller version is dead.

So, why is he here?

Well, you either defend yourself with your life, or sacrifice it or something. Though the hand most likely knew some moves, you still need to defend the two puppies that are behind you.

You’ve done the impossible so you can do this right?

Wrong! (＾▽＾)

The Prototype’s sharp and metallic fingers were plunged into your heart.

“ANGEL NO!” (I don’t know how to make this seem serious, I’m just here💀)

His hands were removed from your heart, though he didn’t take your body to build himself(that’s what I headcanon) maybe you weren’t worthy enough.

Prototype was looking for Dogday, but fortunately, he was nowhere to be seen, neither was his smaller version.

He needed to search, to find him, but— he doesn’t feel like it right now. So he left. Leaving you to die, maybe.

Who knows?

You can always do the impossible.

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #smiling critters #catnap #dogday #gender neutral #gender neutral reader #gn reader #dogday x reader #prototype #smaller critters #small dogday #kissy missy #poppy

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alientee · 3 months

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Alastor x Jessica Rabbit reader part 3

I lied there will be a fourth part 🤣 sorry I’ve been gone for so long. By the way this amazing art was drawn by @klaudia96art it’s based on this story I just had to have me and my demon drawn lol

Alastor and you made it back to the hotel without any more problems, you both headed towards the kitchen the kitchen. “Alright darling I’ll get the ingredients out, I can’t wait to taste your cooking once more.” You set your gift down on the table pulling your hair back. “Well considering I’ve spent so much time with your mom I bet it’ll taste just as good as hers.”

You start to wash your hands and hear something crash to the ground. As you turn around Alastor is looking at you with a thin smile his eyes as wide as they can get. “H-how is my ma….I’m sure she has her doubts that id ever show up in heaven seeing as it’s been so long” You walk towards him bringing your hand up to caress his face. He leans into your touch his eyes looking more gentle than crazed as usual. When it came to his mother Alastor wanted nothing more than to make sure she was happy, her opinion is what mattered most in the world. "She always say’s she just hopes your alright and happy wherever you are. And that she misses you.”

Alastor rest his head into your neck, inhaling your scent. It had been so long since he’s been able to hold you, to feel content again. Usually he hates being touched by others, it feels like a disgusting burn he can’t get rid of. He was never a fan of touch unless he initiated it, unless it was from his mother and you were soon added to the equation. A thought hit him and once again he was tense pulling back looking at you frantically like an actual deer caught in headlights.

“Please don’t tell her why I’m down here. It would break her heart, and I can’t stand the thought of knowing I disappointed her.” You could feel his fingers tighten on your shoulder, any harder and he would break skin. As you tried to calm him down you realized just how much your husband was still there. Yes he was a killer and a cannibal who had no problem taking in the joy in the suffering of others. But he was still a mamas boy through and through.

“Alastor I have to tell your mom I saw you she misses you so much. She just wants to know you’re doing ok. But I won’t tell her…. Why you’re down here, it’s not my story to tell anyway.” He paused for a moment sighing “I suppose that’s good enough for me….. should we start cooking?”

“Oh no mister I’m cooking. Your gonna sit down and relax” you push alastor to the table pulling out a chair for him “But dear-“ “No buts! It’s been so long since I cooked for you. I missed spoiling my husband hehe.” Alastor could only sigh and lean both arms on the table his hand resting in his hands looking at you with that large goofy smile. “If you insist sugar”

As you began to cook more of the residents started to show up much to alastor an annoyance. Angel was the first one to walk through. “Wow toots you got it smelling great in here! Watcha cooking?” You giggled, you were kinda embaressed to say you went overboard with the cooking. “Well I made jambalaya, shrimp and grits, fried chicken, corn bread and a peach cobbler. Husk almost spits out his drink at the spread your making.

“I know I went to overboard, it’s just been so long since I’ve cooked for alastor I wanted to make all his favorites minus the cobbler. Feel free to join us I know we won’t eat it all.” You hear alastor muttering under his breath that the others could leave. You went back to cooking as the rest of the residents filled in but you stare at Charlie when she entered with a man who looked just like her. When both your eyes lock he looks at Charlie happily. “Charlie is this the angel you were telling me about?”

You leave the stove and walk towards him “hello I’m ____,It’s nice to meet you.” Lucifer pulls your hand up to his lips kissing it. “Charmed, it’s a pleasure to meet you” the room is filled with a sound of large static making everyone cringe. Lucifer is the only one who looks bored, rolling his eyes. “Problem bell hop?” Alastor is by your side in an instant.

“Keep your mouth away from my wife” Lucifer looks at you and alastor back and forth until his eyes land on Charlie. “So you weren’t kidding, he’s actually married….. to them…..and you agreed to marry him willingly not by force?” He looks back at you and seeing you nod in confirmation is all he needs for him to put a deadpan look on his face. “…….But you’re way out of his league like waaaaaay out of his league. Plus I don’t think Bell hop boy here knows how to…..satisfy needs that’s arnt cananalistic?” “I beg your pardon? Why the fuck does everyone keep bringing that up?”

You shake your head as you hear angel dust laughing in the back ground. Saying how he had said the same thing earlier, in between laughs. “Yes so I’ve been told, and I think he’s in my league just fine, I can’t wait to show y’all the pictures after dinner, alastor was so handsome hehe.” Alastor looks caught off guard for a second before grabbing your shoulder. “Now dear I’m sure no one wants to see that-“

“He’s lying”

“We all want to see it”

“My rival in hissss youth? Excellent ammunition for later batlesssss”

Alastor just looks more annoyed but seeing your big doe eyes looking at him reminding him so much of why he couldn’t resist your wims when you were both alive. “Very well but you will only see the pictures of my choosing and there will be no more than 3” Everyone groaned but accepted it knowing alastor shouldn’t be pushed over the edge. “Foods ready! I hope y’all like it” Everyone starts to make a plate except for alastor, you make him two plates with all the food you made on them except for the dessert.

While you serve him his plate kissing his cheek everyone can’t seem to stop staring,even nifty. Seeing the very independent radio demon getting served with a goofy smile on his face was so domestic and strange. But what no one else expected was for you to make a plate for Lucifer. He started thanking you profusely looking really shy about it. Everyone else was trying to scoot away from alastor who was starting to let his shadow tendrils rise. “Thank you! So much but I’m… you didn’t have too. Not that I’m not grateful! It’s very sweet of you”

“It’s my pleasure you are the king after all.” “Oh NO no no no no no. Please treat me like any other guest. I hate all the kingly stuff haha. How bout I make you a plate full of pancakes tomorrow?” You shrug stating you’re only here for today but you appreciated the offer.” Cherri bomb looked at you giving you a crooked smile. “So tell us about you and smiley, any good stories?” You tried to think of the least embarrassing but most entertaining memory you can think of.

“Well now that I know Al’s past this story makes much more sense now. Me and him went camping with some of my friends. Mind you I’ve known these people for over 10 years. One of my friends got really drunk and ended up falling off a cliff but he swear he was pushed, but none of us believed him because he was waisted. Then a bear ended up chasing him because he had leftover food in his pocket. He just had terrible luck the whole trip and guess who was near him that whole time.”

Everyone turned to look at alastor who continues to eat with a thin smile. “What? He talked over everyone, made crude jokes to my wife, and thought he could play jokes on ME of all people. The trip was more enjoyable with him unconscious. He should consider himself lucky he’s not dead, had he not been my wife’s good friend he wouldn’t have left the camp grounds.”

“I still can’t believe all of that really was you” You made your way back to the sink to clean the dishes, you could hear all the complements on your food and while you thanked them you could feel something pulling at your side. It’s nifty, and it looks like she’s trying to reach for your face. “A mess! Don’t worry I’ll get it miss.” You didn’t know what on earth she was taking about untill you felt someone come behind you and a wet sensation on your cheek.

It didn’t dawn on you what happened until you saw Alastor behind you. You blush in embarrassment realizing that he licked your cheek. “You had a little sauce on your face dear, now come sit and eat” you were about to comment until angel muttered. “I can’t believe I got that” you turned to see him holding his phone up, he must’ve wanted to take pictures of you and alastor. Speaking of alastor you don’t think you could move fast enough to stop him from pouncing at angel dust.

Speaking of alastor you don’t think you could move fast enough to stop him from pouncing at angel dust. “Alastor No!” Lucky enough Lucifer had been enough to restrain him. But if looks could kill both Lucifer and Angel would be dead by now. Seeing as the “big dick in charge” had a hold on Alastor, Angel Dust decided to get one final jab in. “Can you tell us a story now of why Ole freak face is sad in the sack?”

Too bad for him Lucifer’s grip couldn’t hold shadows though.

This was not proof read much~

@fairyv-ice @sirens-and-moonflowers @cannibalcoyote @jyoongim @thereeallink @sakuraluna2468 @fandomfan-102 @crystal-freak24

#alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 3 months

Note

I wanted to ask, what would it be like if Fischl had an S/O who not only plays along with her, but is just as much as a Chuunibyou as her? I'd kinda like to see her reaction to that. Maybe see what the other Mondstadt folks think as well? Oh, and bonus points if the S/O does the whole Shining Finger thing. from Gundam. That "this hand of mine glows with an awesome powerrr!" thing.

(Genshin Impact/Honkai: Star Rail)

Fischl, Ayaka, Rosaria, Eula, Furina, Shinobu, Bronya, and Seele with a very dramatic S/O

YOU ACTIVATED MY SLEEPER AGENT KEYWORDS, YOU MENTIONED GUNDAM, AND SPECIFICALLY G GUNDAM

Fischl's eyes seemed to gleam when she first realized that her S/O not only indulged her antics, but even joined her!

Their title was almost as impressive as her own, 'The King/Queen of Hearts'!

(Fischl) "Tell me dear, S/O, how can the fabled 'King/Queen of Hearts' measure up to the Prinzessin der Verurteilung?"

S/O clenched their fist and raised it in front of their chest triumphantly.

(S/O) "You may have your electric arrows, but I have these GOLDEN FINGERS!"

Oz on the other hand was completely suffering.

Well, at least he didn't have to translate for S/O, they were completely blunt and to the point, unlike his master.

Fischl did adore S/O for how brave and caring they were, but it was during a battle that made her heart first skip a beat.

(S/O) "HERE I GO!-"

S/O's pyro vision flared up as their fists began glowing a flaming gold, catching both Oz and Fischl by surprise.

(Fischl) "W-What?! S/O was serious with knowing an ultimate technique?!"

(Oz) "I thought they were in a similar boat to you, mein Fräulein-"

(S/O) "THIS HAND OF MINE IS BURNING RED! IT'S LOUD ROAR TELLS ME TO GRASP VICTORY!"

They rushed past Fischl and Oz, who could only watch in awe.

(S/O) "ERUPTING, BURNING...FIIINGEEEEERRRR!"

Their fist immediately crashed through a Ruin Guard (somehow), and lifted them off the ground with one arm.

(S/O) "AND NOW, HEAT END!"

The Ruin Guard exploded violently afterwards, with S/O's fist going back to normal.

(Oz) "Wow, really?"

(Fischl) THAT IS SO COOL! "...Ahem, a fine display, dear S/O."

Everyone in Mondstadt thought that Fischl had just found another roleplayer that took things way too seriously and were somewhat dreading talking to them.

Only to realize S/O wasn't doing a bit, despite the fact they were just as dramatic as her.

They were just insane.

Ayaka knew her S/O was a bit on the...flashy side, to put it gently.

They screamed all their attack names at the top of their lungs, yet she knew no one was better and hand to hand combat than they were. Especially when they began actually glowing red or ignited into flames.

All that did not matter terribly much to Ayaka. S/O was someone she loved, for their caring and valiant nature.

But, someone like S/O was something she had never expected to face, and they both drove her insane, and yet brought contrasting calmness to her life.

Nothing however would ever compare to meeting S/O's master for the first time.

Ayaka and S/O were travelling down the streets of Inazuma, until everyone, including the guards were watching someone coming down the street.

(Ayaka) "...Is...that person standing on their horse?"

Suddenly, S/O's eyes widened, and rushed through the crowd, unintentionally leaving Ayaka behind. She quickly followed behind and saw a man standing perfectly on the horse as it trotted along the streets of Inazuma, arms crossed and an expression that was razor focused.

(S/O) "MASTER!"

The man's head turned to S/O, and both of them exchanged a glance before Ayaka saw their master leap off the horse, extending a fist as they landed perfectly in front of them.

(Strange Man) "Answer me, S/O! THE SCHOOL OF THE UNDEFEATED OF THE EAST!"

S/O knelt down as they struck a dramatic pose, answering their master.

(S/O) "THE WINDS OF THE KING!"

In the middle of the city, they began exchanging rapid punches that traded perfectly blow for blow, so fast that even Ayaka struggled to keep track of.

(Strange Man) "ZENSHIN!"

(S/O) "KEIRETSU!"

(Both) "TEMPA KYOURAN!"

Both their fists collided before their other arms extended outwards in sync, screaming once again.

(Both) "LOOK! THE EAST, IS BUUUURRNING REEEED!"

Ayaka watched with a strange mixture of horror, second-hand embarrassment, admiration, and jealousy.

(Ayaka) ...I-Is it possible for S/O to teach me how to do that too...?

When Rosaria first met S/O, she thought they were going to be a troublemaker.

She was correct, but they fought to keep Mondstadt safe as much as she did.

But while she did it with subtlety, S/O grabbed subtlety with their literal shining golden fingers, and made it violently explode, all while screaming their attack.

The first time she had watched S/O perform their "Shining Finger" attack on a treasure hoarder, she stood there completely slackjawed.

(Rosaria) "...Oh my Bratabos, you're completely serious."

Rosaria thought S/O was doing some kind of bit like this 'Fischl' character she had heard about.

No, they were just that dramatic for no real apparent reason, and they had the strength to back their nonsense up.

She even doubted that herself could take S/O in a straight fight.

In a strange way, it attracted her to them. They were clearly not afraid of what anyone thought of them, only caring if the people they loved were safe. She had respect for that.

But...why were they like this?

They couldn't just defeat their enemies normally, no, they HAD to explode. Every single one of them.

Sometimes S/O's Vision wasn't even active, she would just see them explode after they had shouted "HEAT END!".

(Rosaria) "You are both the best and the worst person I know of to clean up a mess of bandits discreetly."

(S/O) "Hah! The King/Queen of Hearts doesn't need to fight discreetly! I only fight with my fists!"

Honestly, as strange as this was, she also found it to be the funniest thing in the world. Maybe there SHOULD be more people like S/O and Fischl after all.

Eula couldn't exactly call anyone out for being "flashy".

But her S/O took that word to a whole new level. Especially with their manner of speech.

It made Eula look polite in comparison. S/O appeared to be playing the bit of a mysterious, strong, and rude warrior who only thought with their fists.

She had seen them become soft and loving, hell they were a couple, she knows they can become serious.

But after watching them fight a few times, she's starting to believe that S/O wasn't doing a bit like herself, and she did not know how to feel about that.

Eula watched S/O pull out a sword made of pure flames from their hands, wielding it in both their palms.

(S/O) "THIS HAND OF MINE GLOWS WITH AN AWESOME POWER! IT'S BURNING GRIP TELLS ME TO DEFEAT YOU!"

S/O slashed apart the Ruin Hunter with every swing, scorching the grass ablaze with their passion.

(S/O) "TAKE THIS! MY LOVE, MY ANGER, AND ALL OF MY SORROW! SHINING FINGER SWOOOOOOORD!"

With one final slash, the Ruin Hunter was split in half, with S/O leaping back as their pyro vision died down slowly.

Honestly, Eula didn't know if she should be impressed, cringing, or not be thinking that was one of the coolest things she had ever seen.

Probably a mixture of all three.

Honestly? Furina kind of gets it.

You spend so long doing a bit, it kind of becomes a part of you.

That being said, Furina isn't entirely sure if S/O's behavior was entirely theatrics.

But that's fine! It's a part of them after all, not like she had any room to criticize.

Whenever S/O wasn't in the room, she would be clenching her fists and throwing punches in the air, mimicking their tone.

(Furina) "How did they say it...? Ah, right! This hand of mine glows with an awesome power!"

Furina giggled as she said it out loud before putting on a 'serious expression' frowning as she concentrated.

(Furina) "It's loud roar tells me to grasp victory! SHINING, FIINGEEER!" giggle

As she turned to face the door, she nearly leapt out of her skin to see S/O watching her with a highly unamused face.

(Furina) "GAH! S-S/O! How long were you-"

(S/O) "The School of Master Asia cannot be replicated by simply mimicking my actions, Furina. It comes from within!"

Furina pouted a little.

(Furina) "It doesn't look that different from theatre, S/O! You're as dramatic as I am!"

(S/O) "Dramatic? Don't be absurd, I'm completely-"

(Furina) "You are not telling me you can say all that with a straight face every single time!"

(S/O) "...Can you not?"

...Either S/O was the best actor, or they lacked the self awareness that she (kinda) had.

Oh good Archons, please no.

Shinobu already had to reign in Itto and the others, now her lover was adding fuel to the fire.

Or more like an explosion to it.

S/O had taught Itto and the other members of the Arataki gang their strange dances.

Now instead of dealing with one, she had to deal with seven other idiots shouting about Erupting Burning Fingers.

(Shinobu) "S/O, you're a terrible influence."

(S/O) "Huh? What are you-"

(Shinobu) "Sara had just told me that Itto and the others were making a ruckus in the public square."

(S/O) "What ruckus can the dances my master and I-"

(Shinobu) "They're trying to match the speed of you and Master Asia, but end up only punching themselves in the face."

(S/O) "Hah! Looks like I need to train them harder-"

(Shinobu) "S/O."

S/O sighed loudly, adjusting their red headband.

(S/O) "Fine. I'll reign them in myself."

Personally, she thinks their nature is...strange, to put it mildly.

She has no idea how S/O and their master became so eccentric, but they meant as well as she and the others did so...Not too much harm could be done?

And admittedly, she did find it really cool that S/O's vision could make things explode in such a spectacular fashion.

But why did so many people in her life have to have some kind of screw loose with them?

There was only one word that could come to Bronya's mind watching S/O in action.

(Bronya) "What?"

She had been trained all her life to be noble, courteous, and elegant.

And here came S/O with all the elegance of a cannon.

S/O fought inside a machine that mimicked their actions 1 to 1. While the suit itself was strong, it was S/O who made it surpass the limits.

Their knowledge on martial arts was unsurpassed by anyone she had ever known.

But in a strange way, it made Bronya admire them. They wore their heart on their sleeve, with no one telling them how to live. That was really admirable.

And secretly, she found herself quoting S/O many times as she was training with her weapons. Much to her amusement and horror.

But the first time she watched them in action could not compare to anything.

The machine's wings flared out and formed an energy halo, with S/O's hand becoming a blinding fiery light.

Their chest opened up and revealed a large glowing orb, with the symbol of the King/Queen of hearts flashing in front of it.

Before Bronya could even question what S/O was doing, she watched them fly past all the Silvermane guards and save them by driving their robotic fist into the enemy.

(S/O) "BURNING, FIIIIINGEEEER!"

On command, the creature exploded into a brilliant light, making everyone recoil as their enemies fled in terror.

S/O turned around, their machine crossing its arms and standing dramatically on top of a hill, staring down at everyone.

(S/O) "Behold, THE SCHOOL OF MASTER ASIA! THE UNDEFEATED SCHOOL OF THE EAST!"

(Silvermane Guard) "...O-Okay...?"

Bronya had much of the same reaction, but a slight blush overtook her cheeks.

(Bronya) "That was...incredible!"

(Silvermane Guard) "Ma'am?"

(Bronya) "A-AHEM! Men, we continue onwards! Remember our training, and show that we are not to be surpassed!"

It was completely stupid how S/O shouted their moves but...damn, if it wasn't effective.

Seele sighs whenever she watches S/O in action.

Their moves were completely unnecessary, way too flashy, and the thing that annoyed her the most?

They worked. Like, there was nothing to counter S/O's idiotic moves, nor anything that could actually survive them.

It worked, and she hated that it did.

Seele simply steps out the way of an incoming monster part that had exploded spectacularly.

(Seele) "I will never understand how that machine of yours makes everything it touches detonate. It's like everything's made out of Natasha's grenades to you."

(S/O) "HAH! You are just watching the King/Queen of Hearts in action, Seele! Try to keep up!"

Her eye twitched. Oh now it was ON!

She had a great deal of respect for her S/O, truthfully. But it was dwarfed by her annoyance of them as well.

They would go on about complete nonsense, and yet when they were together, S/O could be a surprisingly normal and honest person.

Then she would watch them in the fight club and watch S/O in their machine grab someone's head, ready to make it explode.

(S/O) "Article 1: A Unit whose head section has been destroyed is disqualified!"

(Man) "H-HEY! THAT'S MY ACTUAL HEAD!"

(S/O) "Then I have won this fight."

Seele had never heard about these articles, or schools on this planet. Maybe it was an offworld thing.

...God, she hoped that whoever trained S/O wouldn't meet Natasha or the kids.

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sneepseverus · 3 months

Text

This is a reupload of a one-shot I had on my old account. I’m hoping that by reuploading I’ll finally get the spark and inspiration I need for newer stuff :p I ended up making a lot of edits, though hehehe

Original Request: Snape teaching something to you and there's some sexual tension between you two (decide yourself if you want to turn it into a smut or not, I'm fine with both).

Warnings:

NSFW (MINORS DNI)

Hard dom!Snape x gender-neutral reader

Reader is NOT a student, but they role play

Use of the word “daddy”

Oral (M receiving) (like sucking dick and cock! Like oh my god…)

Word Count: 1.3k

"You know, I always thought you being a professor was so sexy," you commented after what felt like an eternity of silence in his office.

"I have to disagree with you there. It's definitely not a job to be romanticized," he replied, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he continued to glide his quill against the piece of parchment centered on his desk.

You started to think about how he must possess such a great ability to lead and command his classroom. "I bet you're so alluring when you teach."

"My students would strongly disagree," he simply remarked, eyes still fixed on his desk. "Half of those idiots barely pay attention, and then they wonder why they can never receive anything higher than a 'Poor' on their assignments."

"Wait! I have an idea!" you exclaimed with a bit of a mischievous smile.

"And what might that be?" he replied, a little bit annoyed as there were few things more important than what he was currently occupied with.

Although he had been teaching at Hogwarts for about fifteen years already, Snape was still nervous about the next day. It would be his first time teaching as the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, a position he had wanted for so long.

"You're planning for tomorrow's lesson anyway, right? Why don't you practice on me?" you suggested.

"Practice?"

“Yeah! Pretend you're in the classroom and...just say everything you were planning. Besides, it's been a while since I took the class, and our professor wasn't exactly the most fun. I'll probably end up learning something from you."

He finally stopped his writing and glanced at you. "Okay, well, I was going to begin teaching nonverbal spells tomorrow—"

"No, don't tell me; just do it," you said, motioning for him to start.

He slowly stood up and cleared his throat awkwardly. How silly it must be to pretend to be a professor when he already has to suffer through that every day, he thought. However, he eventually walked over in front of you and placed his hands behind his back, getting himself into character. "Before we begin, I must remind you that this is a N.E.W.T-level class. I am astonished that you all managed to achieve an O.W.L in this subject, but I would be less so if you found yourselves incapable of keeping up with the coursework," he began as he paced back and forth.

Wow. Of course, you knew how strict he was, but it was one thing to hear it from his colleagues and students and another to actually see it right before your eyes. After being together and knowing how gentle he was deep inside, it was like you were seeing a new side to him.

"The Dark Arts," he continued, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal…"

He went on and on with his introduction (which included something about the Cruciatus Curse and some type of kiss). You found it so difficult to focus with how mesmerizing, how attractive his voice was; no wonder students were never able to pay attention. You couldn't help but giggle at his scowling yet seductive expression.

"Do I make myself clear?" He stared at you with a piercing gaze as he waited for your response.

"Yes, Daddy—I mean, professor," you mumbled.

He crossed his arms in front of him and lifted an eyebrow suspiciously. "Well, it seems to me that something has distracted you, L/N. If you are finding yourself incapable of paying attention, then I will have to ask you to leave."

"I'm sorry," you said as you sat up straight. "I'm paying attention."

"Good. Now, I assume you have had no prior experience with nonverbal spells. Can you tell me what the advantage of a nonverbal spell is?"

Your eyes wandered all over his face, and you found yourself biting your lip.

"No? This is the second time you have distracted yourself. It seems that my warning was not enough to make you focus. I will now have to give you a more severe punishment for your misbehavior. Come over to my desk. Now," he demanded.

He sat down in his chair and turned to face you. "Get on your knees," he instructed. He leaned back and spread his legs. "You must do as I say. Understand?"

You nodded, excited about where this was going.

He pointed to his groin. "First, take them off."

You looked at him and proceeded to unbutton his trousers. You slowly slid them off, leaving his underwear over his hardness. "Seems like I wasn't the only one distracted," you commented smugly.

"I don't remember asking you to speak. You should have already removed my pants, too. Do I need to spell out every single little instruction for you? And wipe that smirk off your face."

"I'm sorry…sir" you muttered as you proceeded to grip the waistband of his underwear. His leaking, throbbing cock sprang out, ready for you to touch him, as you swiftly pulled them down to his ankles, licking your lips at the sight.

"I don't need you making any more of your snide comments, so use your mouth."

"What else would have I done?" you wanted to ask, but you kept your "snide comments" to yourself this time. You wrapped your hand around his firm length, slowly pumping up and down before swirling your tongue all around his tip. You closed your eyes blissfully, letting out a series of moans as you savored the taste of his pre-cum.

"Stop this teasing and shut up," he ordered. "And look at me."

You followed his command and sped up your pace this time, looking for any signs of approval in his deep, glittering eyes.

Once he was satisfied, he gripped his hands on the back of your head before bucking his hips towards you, forcing his cock deeper down your throat. Moans escaped his parted lips with each suck. He knew there was a chance others could hear him from outside his office, but right now, he was more concerned with disciplining you.

You cupped his balls with your free hand, fondling them while maintaining your rhythm. "Yes, just like that. Oh, you're doing so well," he let out between shaky breaths before letting his head fall back. "Don't even fucking think about stopping."

"Yes, professor," you thought. "Anything for you." You could feel your own arousal building up, but you ignored it to focus on pleasuring your professor and hear him praise you between groans. Oh, you so desperately wanted to pull away and tell him how much you loved the feeling of his long cock deep inside your mouth, but you had to maintain this perfect pace if you wanted to keep him content.

With the way his hips were moving, it was as if he was fucking your face. You made sure every inch of him was covered in your saliva, letting him know how "apologetic" you were for not paying attention to his little speech he must had spent time rehearsing. But if acting up meant that you got to have his legs spread widely for you in the middle of the day, of course, you'd do it again.

You could tell his orgasm was approaching with the way his body began squirming involuntarily. Neither of you had any intention of moving away from this current position. He yelled out a booming, "FUCK!" with his fingers digging deeply into your skin as cum shot into your throat.

Once you were certain you had milked every last drop of his seed, you removed yourself from his length, gasping for air. You licked your lips to get a good taste of any remaining droplets and waited patiently for his next instruction.

"I hope you weren't expecting to be done so soon," he stated. When he finally regained all his energy, he stood up and put his bottoms back on. "Go to my room and take your clothes off—all of them. I'll be there momentarily."

#lol @ my old writing #i changed some of the sentences #they seemed too abrupt #i hope you enjoy it!!#snape #snape smut #snape x reader #snape x y/n #snape x you #snape fanfiction #snape fanfic #severus snape #severus snape smut #severus snape x reader #severus snape x y/n #severus snape x you #severus snape fanfiction #severus snape fanfic

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blasphemecel · 2 months

Text

Michael Kaiser, Shidou Ryuusei — Red

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader, Shidou Ryuusei/Reader WORD COUNT: 1.5k TYPE: Humor, Bad Flirting, Petty argument WARNING(S): tw Kaiser, tw Shidou

Kaiser is maybe pissed off or developing chronic depression (or uncovering a long going, underlying mental health issue).

Well, not to be overdramatic, but his life has fucking sucked ever since he came to this wretched place they call ‘Blue Lock’!

More like stupid shit lock, but he wouldn’t be caught dead saying something this immature out loud. Yoichi scored one more goal than he did — an entire goal, one of it, in surplus that is — and made a fool of him. Now Kaiser is spiraling and wanting to prove himself like a loser, when he’s the one who’s supposed to make others feel this way.

What is happening right now, in front of his very eyes, is egregious torture. Cinnamon to sauté the pear of anguish in.

He went looking for you in an only slightly creepy stalkerish way, which he already wasn’t happy about, since he had to walk around this soulless building and see too much of it at once. And when he finally finds you in one of the few communal spaces (gross, by the way), what are you doing? Betraying him by talking to Sae’s pink pervert and laughing. Your audacity to have fun while Kaiser is suffering is insolent. Ness should give you a yellow card for that.

Even if it’s below him, Kaiser can prove himself, though, both on the field and when it comes to strange rivalries with questionable undertones. He is better and more deserving of all attention, including yours, and he’s going to show you. He’s going to show you so hard, you’ll regret your ignorance so much that you’ll drop out of here and go back to school or whatever the fuck.

With this objective in mind, he reminds himself to act natural and walks up to you. In fact, Kaiser is confident no one has acted this natural before.

“Hi,” he says in an unnecessarily firm tone, with the most forced smile of all time. Maybe he should’ve come up with something before interrupting your conversation, now that he thinks about it.

Your heads snap in his direction at the same time with a weird synchrony. “Hi,” Shidou mocks, imitating Kaiser’s expression, going as far as to suck in his lips to make it seem more exaggerated and stupid.

Somehow, this situation strikes you as awkward, so you settle for staring at him expectantly. He probably had a reason to approach you, right?

“How… are you… doing?” Kaiser asks, ignoring the bug in favor of swinging an arm around your shoulder and leaning in way too close to your face. This is mostly an action meant to distract you from how strange he is acting. The only language he is proficient in is shit talking, so now he finds himself at a loss for words.

Shidou, however, is adept at smelling weakness. Without thinking twice about it — pathologically impulsive — he pushes Kaiser off of you, and his grin grows menacing. Now he’s the one draping himself over you, and he looks at Kaiser, who seems a bit caught off guard all things considered.

“We,” Shidou points a finger at himself and then at you, maybe attempting to insinuate something, “were doing great! And then the double-rat-tailed wonder came in.”

The who?!

Kaiser maintains a cheerful facade. “I don’t know if you’re aware because you seem quite stupid, but the point of a nickname is to be short. At least my hairstyle obeys gravity.”

“Wow, hear that? No way you like ‘em uptight and snobby like this guy, babe.”

“Really? Because I would’ve thought the vulgar type who treats the plays leading up to scoring a point like edging doesn’t suit you at all. Right, darling?”

Babe? Darling? May God touch these people’s wretched souls.

“Aww, you remember that? You watched me? Good times. I’m getting so popular.” Shidou lets go of you, much to your surprise. Then he stretches like a cat and yawns, overdoing it just to illustrate his boredom with Kaiser’s presence. “Anyway, forget about gravity. Pink is much better than blue-”

“No, it isn’t,” Kaiser argues childishly, crossing his arms.

“-We all know it! And what do you have in your hair? Blue. And what do I have? Pink.”

“This is stupid. They’re just colors.”

“Someone’s mad he doesn’t have pink instead of blue.”

“What? You’re so dumb. You know it’s not natural, right? I made the choice to dye it blue. If I wanted pink, I would’ve-”

“‘You’re so dumb. You know it’s not natural, right?’” Shidou repeats in a snotty tone, then throws you a meaningful glance and snorts, waiting for you to join in on the bullying. Apparently mimicking Kaiser is something he’ll add to his list of things he considers funny from now on.

You wonder if either of them have noticed you’re yet to speak at all.

“Well, what about you?” On cue, Kaiser addresses you. Are you seeing things, or is his eye twitching? “You understand opinions about colors aren’t objective, don’t you?”

Shidou perks up. “What do you prefer? Pink or blue? You love pink, right?”

“No, I bet you’re just… obsessed with blue. I bet it’s all you can think about, along with football, of course.”

“But isn’t pink so much more energetic and wild and cool and lovable?” Shidou flutters his lashes and strikes a pose as if he’s trying to act coy but in a manner so overt, it becomes clear he’s not really trying to sell his performance.

Are they even talking about colors anymore?

You shrug, deciding to treat the situation like a game. “I haven’t decided yet. Convince me which one I should pick. Get me on board.”

“I have a car,” Kaiser blurts out. Is this the only positive quality he thinks he has when it comes to his personal life? You don’t know if you find it funny or sad.

“So what?” Shidou asks, unimpressed on your behalf. “I’ve always wanted to hijack a car.” Then he wraps his fingers around one of your shoulders, overcome with excitement all of a sudden. “Let’s go on a date when this is all over and hijack a car! We could hijack his car.”

“See, he’s psychotic.” There is an arrogant smile on Kaiser’s face again.

“You’re also kind of crazy,” you say.

“There are no positives to being with him if you think about it rationally,” continues Kaiser, like he didn’t hear you calling his sanity into question. “Even if you wanted to be a deranged criminal, he’d just get you caught. Me, personally, I could plan it all out with you.”

Scratch that, he’s an overly willing lunatic who’s shielding his emotional dysregulation by talking about logic. Like that’s ever worked for anyone.

“So what if I’m impulsive? There are positives to being with me, duh!”

“I doubt it.” Kaiser’s skepticism is palpable.

Shidou’s gaze returns to you, so he can look at you straight on while delivering his next line. “Well, I’d give you a really enthusiastic massage.” Oh, this is the route he’s taking. Ok. “Jitter up your neurons like you do mine.”

“Do you even know what a neuron is?”

“Even a foot massage?” you ask, amused.

“Sure, I can do a foot massage.” Shidou remains carefree at the suggestion.

“Do you know foot reflexology?”

“No, that’s so boring.” You frown, just for the sake of seeing his reaction more than anything. Shidou tries to amend the situation, “I can learn?!”

“You can’t let him massage you anywhere,” argues Kaiser, and he seems quite offended by the notion. “He’ll probably do it wrong and fuck you up because he’s a brute. You’re gonna get injured.”

“Well, can the blue rose princess do any better?”

“Stop calling me convoluted nicknames. And maybe not, but I could hire a massage therapist with a five star rating or something. How’s that sound?”

“You’re such a robot! You’d rather be with a brute than with a robot at the end of the day, right, babe? Team pink wins all day.”

“How am I a robot?”

Gleefully, Shidou expands on his point with his grin turning even more devious, “It’s not about giving a good massage! It’s all an excuse to be all over someone. And by the way, you don’t seem cuddly at all. I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole.” His definition of ‘cuddly’ is probably questionable considering it includes Sae, but still.

“What! Yes, I am! Don’t talk about touching me, you moronic deviant!” Kaiser then deflates and seems a bit unsure despite the earlier conviction and aggression in his outburst. “I mean, if you think it’s an attractive quality, that is. But if you find it degrading, then I’m not huggable at all.”

Wow, they’re both suckers. You wonder how far you’ll be able to push it in the future?

#blue lock x reader #michael kaiser x reader #shidou ryuusei x reader #shidou x reader #kaiser x reader #bllk x reader #bllk x you

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 3 months

Text

Happy Birthday, Norton Campbell

Rated Mature | None

To the second hunter and survivor I ever wrote since playing IDV (the first was Morningstar!Ithaqua and High Roller!Orpheus) and had tried to go against during his event (he rocked me a lot), this is for you babe!

Norton Campbell

“You know what they say about Pisces?” You say as lay on top of him wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

He uncovers his face where he places his arm to look at you. The look of ‘What weird thing did you come up with this time?’ because you are one to say the most outlandish things. He won’t say it but it is often appreciated when his thoughts are not pleasant, “What do they say?” Tired, not of you— Well, he tired because of you and that boundless energy of yours. God, you and Lucky Guy are always ready to go.

“... I don't know.” You forgot or probably had no idea where you were going with that.

“You are lucky I love you or I would have kicked you out.” Covering his face again.

“Out of my own room!? Naked? Wow!” Sitting up causes the sheets to shift and expose your bare chest but the lower half is still covered, “After I gave the best birthday gift too, boo!”

“How do you still have energy?” Mumbling.

“I have to keep up with you, both of you.”

“Agh.” Norton does not want to think about how Fool’s Gold is going to demand a birthday gift too, “Do me a favor and blue ball him.”

“Norton, you won't let me top and you expect me to do denial on him? Hah, no.” Using a modern term for being the dominant one, supposedly. You simplify a lot of your bedroom explanations to him.

“At least, make him work for it.” Moving to lay on his side with his arms wrapped around you.

Fool’s Gold

There is no dressing up for this, he would not appreciate it like his counterpart likes seeing you in lace. Simple lingerie, especially when he can rip it off. No, the hunter likes simply having you on your knees playing your role. He has not forgotten about this, about how it turned him on.

“Bark.” Commanding you. His legs wide open while he sits in the chair made for the hunters.

You are on your knees with your arms up partly as you copy a dog stance while standing, “Arf!” Barking a little too easily, the usual grin on his face widening at the sight of you degrading yourself as his gift. “Woof!” He pulls on the makeshift leash that is his belt.

“Open your mouth for your treat.” His fully formed hand is tugging at your bottom lip, “Tongue out.” Unzipping his pants, unbuttoning it so he has room to pull out that thick reconstructed cock. Pulsing with the purple glow. Tugging you so your breath is hot on his cock. Oh, he likes this sight with his thick nonhuman cock on your tongue weighing heavy.

The way you remain in place waiting for his command, and even better how soon he is going to see tears of pleasure running down that pretty face of yours.

“Go on, suck your treat up.” Norton definitely likes this. You normally would not do this again after the last time he did this with you, but it seems mercy is on his side.

A wish is granted for his birthday.

Soul Catcher

Mortals. All of them from animals to humans, their lives are fleeting, finite, he did not understand why he must assist in preserving these souls. They all will return to the land of the living upon reincarnation, to suffer and struggle. He sits watching a soul that captives him these days, singing a song and often messing up the lyrics, you currently are doing chores. Nothing special about this life or how you live it.

A plain soul, he found the company of such a domestic person a change of pace, a way to see the beauty of life before he claimed it for death. Soon you will follow like all mortal things.

“A celebration of life and another,” You explain, “Though you are not alive, we should still celebrate the contribution you give to all life.” Smiling as you hand him a poncho you created for him. “Death is equally as important as life.”

A birthday, he has no need for such a thing but the gift is given to him, here in this field of cut wheat, the window blowing softly as he stands up and puts on the article of clothing.

“It looks great on you!” Clapping your hands together, “Do you like it?”

“I do.” A quiet one as he often keeps to himself, “Thank you.” He does not have a need for this, yet he does not want to say that nor want you to think him ungrateful. The Soul Catcher touches it fondly as this will be treasured like all the memories he will have of you when the time comes to collect your soul.

Highway Cavalier

“Hiya, speedster.” Waving to him before leaning on the door of his car, “Practicing?”

“No, just checking on the girl before Luca and Demi kick me out for the day.” The engine sounds clear as he revs it and slowly winds it down, “You?”

“Soon, I need to test run the Mach Two before the entry races next week.”

“You've been test-running the damn thing all week.” Shutting the car off, “Join us later.”

“You know I can't, speedster. I gotta do my checks and do my practice laps—”

“Yes, you can because it's my birthday.” He grins, leaning in close towards you.

“What!?” You cover your face, “Oh, my God, Norton, why didn't you tell me?! I could've gotten you a gift or something.”

“I'm mentioning it now and the only gift I want is to see you at the bar getting drinks with us.” Pinching your cheek when you uncover your face to pout, “Maybe a kiss or two for an extra gift too.” Wiggling his eyebrows suggestively before laughing when you hit his arm.

“Silly man as if I don't already kiss you enough,” Rolling your eyes playfully.

The Orphan of Goetia

“A mutual gift for both of us to enjoy the desires of the flesh.”

Infernal Sin, King of the Seventy-Two demons of Hell, the Lord of the damned, has gifted him what they both desire. Norton’s heart is the Infernal Sin's heart only with a human host, he feels what the other feels too.

“I am such a benevolent King, aren't I?” A rhetorical

question as he laughs with glee, “Well!? Go on! Indulge.” Here in this bedroom of red lights and sheets of silk, a heavy smell of wine and iron, Norton is unsure if he should even touch you.

There you sit wrapped up with large fabric ribbons presenting you as a gift. The makeup on your face waa done by that worshiper obsessed with the demonic king and him. You look away, gagged with a ball held by leather straps.

“Go on. This is for us.”

You are laid back, the Orphan of Goetia and the Infernal Sin above you, the hands you feel however are only Norton’s. Carefully unwrapping you, freeing you but you remain on the bed. His hands remove the gag, his mouth on yours immediately desperately.

The sensation of a rocky hand sliding up your legs before slipping between them.

The King once told you here you will find heaven or hell, here you can be worshiped or be made to grovel. He will— They will have you one way or another.

“This is…” Norton speaking with laboring breath, “(Name)...” His lips on your skin, your neck to chest, a trail of hickeys following.

“Norton.” Moaned out as the monster enjoyed himself preparing you, “Please, God.” Thick fingers preparing you, it is as if he knows just how to touch you.

“Not God, us. From now on it will only be us.” The demon king says— Promises.

Mining Director

“You can open them.” Saying as the dining room table is covered with gifts sent to him. Perks of being the most desired and envied man in the mining business— With a hand in other businesses and politicians. Norton Campbell made himself the most powerful man both in the public eye and behind the scenes. “Useless junk.”

You sit there unsure what to say or do given his mood today. It is his birthday and though he has a ton of gifts and riches fit for a king, you had hoped he would celebrate with you… Like old times… When you were both two kids trying to make it in the cold world.

“What?” Norton says, he sees you not moving from your spot, his eyes go to the small box in your hand.

“It's nothing.” Putting the box down, turning around ready to leave the room. The boy you loved, that boy has grown up into a materialistic man. You married him because you love him, but you wonder if he loves you… If that boy is still there wanting to play with you like always.

“Wait,” Grabbing your arm, “Is this for me?” Looking at the poorly made box.

“... No point in asking. It's with the rest of the junk.” Sounding every bit hurt.

Norton curses in Spanish under his breath before pulling you into his arms and squeezing you, “Mi Vida, nothing you give me is junk.”

You hide your face in his chest embarrassed by your feelings of inadequacy, he has the world and you want to show him your love.

“Let me open it.” Opening it while still hugging you, “Hah! You found the old thing!?” Pulling out the old toy model car he would play with as a kid, “Can't believe it. Thought the old man sold it.”

“I found it when visiting the old neighborhood. The pawn shop had it on display and I… I hope you like it, Norton.”

He drops the box to touch the toy, this small piece of the past. When he was a boy, he used to play with this car pretending to be a racer. The grand places he would imagine with you in tow chasing after him.

“Norton?”

His face is buried in the crook of your shoulder, you touch his hand as you feel him trembling against you.

#idv #idv x you #idv reader insert #idv x reader #idv prospector #reader insert #norton campbell #norton campbell x reader #norton campbell x you #identity v x you #identity v x reader #idv norton #identity v #fool's gold x reader #fool's gold #idv fool's gold #fool's gold x you

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risuola · 10 months

Note

Yoohoo!! Love your work, darling!

May I request a Megumi X reader for 22, 33, and 34?

Smut is optional honestly, free wheel!

Angst would be there I suppose.

Cheating? As you wish.

Violence and darkness? All up to you, darling.

I hope you have fun writing!

ALL MAD AND POUTY — F. READER x FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

Megumi might not be the best in expressing his feelings, so it's no wonder why when he saw you getting up close and personal with his best friend Yuji, he got all mad and pouty.

cw: angst, characters are aged up to 18+, cheating implied, hurt and blood briefly mentioned, fluff at the end — 2,1k words

PROMPTS: 22. You’ve got what you deserved. 33. It’s not what it looks like. 34. So, you cheated with my best friend?

a/n: thank you for the request! it gave me a chance to write for Megumi, so for me it's a win :3

"Why didn't you use your divine dogs?" you coughed, frustration evident in your voice as you pressed your hands onto the deep wound on your side, trying to stop the heavy bleeding. It was easily avoidable; you wouldn't have had to suffer the blow if your boyfriend had reacted as he usually did. But he looked at you from above, his eyes piercingly cold.

"I've decided they're unnecessary," he shrugged, unfazed by the crimson that was slowly soaking through your clothes. "Shoko will probably heal you, it doesn't look critical."

"Wow, that's great, thanks Megumi," muttering, you collected yourself from the ground and went straight to the car, so that Ijichi could drive you back to the high school and you could seek medical help. Fushiguro followed and in the back seat, you leaned against his shoulder, trying to find some comfort in the pain that pulsed through your nervous system, but he flinched the moment your head rested on his body.

"Can you sit up straight? I'm kinda tired."

"And I'm bleeding. What's the matter, Megu?"

"Well, you got what you deserved."

"What I deserv- what does that even mean, what I deserved?" you couldn't believe what you were hearing. One thing you were certain of – Megumi was angry and you had no idea why.

Two days had passed since Megumi had deliberately refused to help you on the battlefield. Your wounds were messy, but Shoko managed to treat them so well that you couldn't feel much more than subtle discomfort in your side, and to be honest, you were more consumed by thoughts of your partner's unusual behavior than anything else. Back in the car, he avoided any further conversation, turned his body to the window, sneering and paying you no mind for the entire ride, and you gave up trying to force the issue. When you arrived, he simply went his way, leaving you covered in blood, fortunately in the hands of Ijichi.

But his act had to have a reason, he wouldn't go all mad and pouty for nothing, and he certainly wouldn't endanger you for nothing. Well, you liked to think he wouldn't put you in danger even if you suddenly became his enemy, but things apparently changed.

"Megumi, may I?" you asked, knocking lightly on his door and pressing the handle, only to find that he locked the entrance. "Hey, Megu, we should talk."

"Do we have anything to talk about? I'm a little busy," his voice reached your ears from inside the room, a tone indifferent and cold, but you knew better than to believe it. There was a subtle undertone of hurt in both his voice and his demeanor, and the fact that you might have done something to hurt him sent you into a spiral of guilt and panic attacks. You spent two nights unable to sleep because of the raging thoughts in your head.

"Please talk to me, I need to know what happened. Hey, baby?" you tried, knocking again, this time softly, just to let him know that you're close and waiting. "Megumi, I won't leave before we talk. I'll stay here even if for the whole night."

Fushiguro groaned in annoyance. He really had no desire to look at you, listen to you or do anything with you. The fake, poisonous smiles you had been giving him for the last month made him sick of you, of Itadori, shit, he was even angry at Nobara, because who else would know everything if not her. Megumi felt stupid for not noticing it earlier, but when it hit him, it hit him hard.

That day, a month ago, he returned to school earlier than planned. His solo mission went smoother than expected and his mood was light and bright when he got out of Ijichi's car. He hoped to quickly reunite with his friends, who he always said annoyed him, but everyone knew it was his way of showing affection. He was also especially happy to reunite with you, his absolute best companion, a favorite person in the world, his love and his girlfriend. Quietly, as he always did, he approached Itadori's room, from where a mixture of soft laughter reached his ears. The doors were unlocked, slightly ajar, and he wanted to push them open, but then he heard your voice.

"We can't tell Fushiguro about this," you said cheerfully, your tone breathless and absolutely worn out, and he knew that sound. He heard it before, so he held his breath and peeked inside.

"He would feed me to his dogs if he knew," Itadori was just as exhausted, joyful as he held you in his arms, lying on the bed with you on top of him. Quickly, Megumi retreated and padded back to his own room, as if he hadn't seen anything, but the image stood clear and sharp in front of his eyes, every time he saw you after that. On the same day, you approached him with open arms, with so much something that he thought was love. He couldn't help but wonder what was it if not love?

His door swung open aggressively, almost making you trip, and when you looked up at him, you could see anger twisting his usually calm features. Your heart clenched at the sight of his furrowed brow, his narrow, dark eyes, and his tight jaw.

"Gumi, hey," you tried to reach for his hand, but he pulled back, letting you into his room but refusing to touch you. "Did I do something to hurt you?"

"I don't know, did you?" he snapped, kicking his doors shut with a loud thud.

"You tell me. Please, Megu, I don't understand what's gotten into you lately. Yuji told me that you avoid him as much as you avoid me, we're both confused, I-"

"Of course, Yuji cried to you about it. You seem close, huh?"

"We're friends?"

"Friends, sure," Megumi stood tall above you and you looked up at him with so much confusion, it angered him even more. Unable to control his emotions, he grabbed your wrist and pushed you against the nearest wall, slamming his other hand right next to your head. You winced, shocked to the core and genuinely frightened by the sudden burst of aggression. You knew, you hoped, that he wouldn't hurt you, but as you remembered your last mission together, you began to have doubts.

"Megu-"

"I saw you." he cut in. " A month ago, I saw you and Itadori in his room. Panting, you were lying on top of him, laughing that you could not tell me about it," Megumi scoffed, almost freezing you to death with his icy gaze and his equally cold tone. "Hah, Itadori was afraid that I would feed him to my dogs if I found out, and to be honest, I thought about it, but I don't want them to get sick."

"What? Christ, I would never..."

"You're always so bubbly and touchy with Itadori, and I get it, I'm not that warm and emotional, I guess, but if it's not me you want, then why bother, huh?" he growled, spitting words with rage as his fingers dug into the wall next to your head. “I couldn’t give you what you wanted, so you cheated with my best friend?”

“Megumi, it’s not what it looks like.”

"If it's not what it looks like, then what is it? How could you end up so out of breath, in my friend's bed, on top of him, huh?"

You were silent for a moment. All his words hurt you to the core, and you tried to replay the situation he's referring to. You remembered that day you were in Yuji's room, but were you that careless to draw a picture so suggestive?

"Why didn't you tell me earlier that you saw this? Why didn't you tell me anything?" you asked, exhaling deeply, angry at yourself for hurting the boy you loved so much. "I never wanted to hurt you, Megumi."

"I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, you know? I tried to find a reasonable explanation for what I saw and I watched your interactions with Yuji. It all seems pretty self-explanatory."

"It's really not like that."

"Fuck, I hate this," he groaned, stepping back and distancing himself from you in a few large steps. It hurt, it hurt him so much. You were his first love and Yuji was his first friend and yet the two of you, together, behind his back. He couldn't understand it, he hated it. "Why the hell are you lying? I saw you. I heard you."

"Megumi," you tried, but he didn't listen. Every time you wanted to grab him, to ground him, he just snapped your hands away, looked at you with so much pain that it felt like the sadness in his voice burned scars on your skin, seeped into your heart. You wanted to cry, you wanted to hug him and tell him it's okay, it's not like that, but he wouldn't listen. He wouldn't let you speak, he snapped at you harder and harder. His hands flew, his eyes tore you apart. You saw the glisten of tears in them, he was so hurt and you knew that if he started to cry, you'd lose it.

Forcibly, you took him by his clothes, then wrapped your hands around his middle and spun him around. Losing his balance, he grabbed your shoulders trying to stop the momentum, but you pulled him through the dance. Finally, his knees hit the edge of his bed and he collapsed with your weight on top of him.

"This is pretty much how I ended up on top of Yuji in his bed," you explained, loosening your grip around him. "But with less force and more joy. We were happy, we laughed and hugged. Yuji is strong, he lifted me up, turned some circles and lost his balance." A sigh left your lungs as you rolled off of his body and fell onto the bed next to him. "We were planning for your birthday. We know you hate that day because Gojo always does something so extra and embarrassing... we wanted to take you on a trip, just you, me, Yuji and Kugisaki. We planned movies, mini golf, lots of your favorite foods and also some general chill, away from Jujutsu high and Gojo-sensei. But Yuji insisted on doing something cheesy, like bringing you the biggest cake with our wishes hand-written on it, and making it dark and fancy, but with bursting sprinkles inside, so that when you cut into it, you'd automatically be covered in colorful confetti. Yeah, he thought you'd feed him to your dogs if you found out. This was all supposed to be a surprise for you, we already made some arrangements. Fuck, we knew you'd probably hate the idea of a party anyway, so we were desperate to keep it secret, and we planned most of it while you were away on missions."

"What are you talking about...? My birthday is-"

"In a month. It's already November, your birthday is in few weeks."

Megumi fell silent. The year flew by, he didn't even notice a change in the weather, he just lived through it somehow, and now it was almost December. Everything you said echoed in his head, somehow slowly making more and more sense. He was so focused on finding proof of your affair with Yuji that he had ignored every remark Nobara made about the upcoming party. And lately, you were making more calls, always stepping aside so he wouldn't hear you. A few times he saw you sneaking out with Yuji, who was smiling like an idiot. Megumi didn't even think of any other reason for all that.

"So that's it?"

"Yes, idiot. I love Yuji, he's like my brother. You are my boyfriend, you are my absolute favorite grumpy and pouty person in the whole universe. I wish you would have come to me sooner.”

"I hate surprises..." Fushiguro grumbled and covered his face with his hands, feeling stupid but also relieved. It was as if the heaviest weight had been lifted from his shoulders, his chest felt lighter than it had in weeks, and he began to laugh. "Damn, how I hate surprises."

"Well, that's good, because this one is definitely ruined," you muttered, getting up from the bed. "But now you're going to pretend like you don't know anything and you're going to take this confetti right in your face and thank for it, because I'm not going to ruin Yuji and Nobara's efforts with the fact that I had to tell you."

"Okay," he sat up as well and wrapped his arms around your waist, preventing you from walking away as he pressed his face to your stomach. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, baby," you brushed through his hair with your fingers.

"And I'm sorry I let you get hurt."

"Well, I still love you, so I guess that's okay too."

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