#and that he just couldn't see himself living anymore

[nunalastor]

Had a weird Hazbin Hotel dream. Charlie started trying to make connections with other overlords during season 2 to promote the hotel, and naturally this involved Vox. Vox wanted to install cameras so he could see their daily lives to make a good promotional trailer (he wanted to spy on the hotel and stalk Alastor for himself and Angel for Valentino), but to do that, he would need Alastor to agree to it in a contract as he is the manager of the hotel. Decisions like that need to be run by him.

Alastor of course said “fuck no” both for himself and for Angel. Charlie thought they were being paranoid and explained to Vox that Alastor would never say yes. They couldn't sneak it either because his powers destroy technology like that. She didn't want to lie to him, just convince him. Vox gave her a bottle of wine and said to give it to Alastor, after he had it, he wouldn't be a problem anymore.

Charlie thought this wine was just really good and he’d be willing to hear them out since the way to someone’s heart was through their stomach. Nope. The wine was poisoned. It went straight into that poisoned apple scene from Ever After High of Alastor realizing what he just drank, and all he could say before losing consciousness was “Why?”

Alastor wasn’t a problem anymore, not because he had been persuaded. He was close to dead. 

Then the whole dream took a ridiculous turn, completely shifting away from the fallout, to Vox sitting in his living room dumbfounded. “Holy shit that actually worked? What the fuck?? no Alastor has to be scheming something what the actual fuck is this?” his face is a giant error message the entire time. He has the blue screen of death. He in no world thought that would work, he was just fucking around with that, like yeah he wanted Alastor dead but holy shit all this time scheming and all he had to do was hand the princess some obvious poison? He wasn't sure he even removed the giant skull on the bottle!

👀

[dullgecko]

i think with how much of a disaster riz is, he's pretty used to not looking well. it's normal for him and no big deal. so what if his hands are uncontrollably shaky and his eyebags are deeper than the grand canyon? nothin new.

but on the rare occasion when he's ESPECIALLY stressed and been neglecting himself even more than usual for a very long time, and he looks even worse, it really startles him when he starts to notice just how unwell he looks. he's so dissociated he can't recognize his own face in the mirror, like he's never seen that guy before even though he knows it's him. his colouration is so frighteningly off. looking down at his own arms he finds his veins so much more visible than usual. he looks so sick and weak, and that uncanny-valley-ish sense sets in, like looking at a corpse. it's jarring to see it on your own skin.

it scares him so fucking bad. he's terrified of his own body. he can't bear to look at himself but at the same time he can't look away. and he knows now he HAS to recover if only so he doesn't have to see himself like this anymore, and in an intense panic he scrambles to put himself to bed, but how's he supposed to fall asleep when he can't resist checking himself again and making the panic worse? he's just incapable of calming down like this.

this is the only time he will ever actually ASK fig to cast sleep on him.

Riz had been alone since the second day of their break, school pausing for a week as a large percentage of their students went to visit family over the holiday. This particular holiday only coming around every ten years or so since it was tracked on the elven calendar rather than the Solesian one.

Fabian had kidnapped Adaine and taken her to Falinel to stay with his grandfather and celebrate since she didn't have any family of her own while the rest of the party had their own plans. Gorgug had even gotten into the spirit of the thing and had decided to spend the week with his birth parents whereas Fig was spending the week rotating between her rapidly growing roster of moms and dads. Riz only had a vague idea of where Kristen was in all this mess but he remembered her mentioning some missionary work in Sylvaire so it was probably that since he hadn't heard from her all week.

As it was Riz didn't really have any family he could visit easily, or safely, on his own. The hike up to where his father's horde lived in the Mountains of Chaos was dangerous. He couldn't even get his mom to join him since she would be in Bastion City for the next two weeks working.

So, lonely and without anyone to stop him, Riz had thrown himself head first into some extra credit rogue-classwork assignments to distract himself but it had ended up being harder than he expected.

Riz was stuck, hand balling into a fist as he thumped it against the desk in front of himself a few times as if that would make his homework make any sense. He still had a week to complete it before handing it in but he had other things he needed to do as well and it was driving him to madness.

Adaine might have been able to help him with this puzzle but crystal reception in Falinel was spotty at best. He couldn't even ask his other friends for help since none of them took the rogue classes with him. Gorgug had taken a look at it on the first day off before he also left for his holiday when Riz was stumped and just shrugged his shoulders, and he doubted Kristen or Fig would do much better. The worst part was he usually found this kind of thing easy and now he felt like he'd forgotten how to do something that should come naturally, like breathing.

He leaned his chair back and balanced on the back two legs, glaring at the ceiling and contemplating calling Gorgug again but he didn't want to interupt his visit to his birth parents house over something as stupid as homework. His break in his thinking giving his stomach an oportunity to voice its opionion on him ignoring it for so long, grumbling loudly and announcing that Riz was hungry and probably had been for a while at this point. The goblin clicking his tongue in annoyance and grabbing his crystal to check the time and finding that it had been nearly fourteen hours since he sat down to start working on this portion of the overly complicated cypher.

He usually didn't get that bad when he was working at home but, for the first time in a while, he didnt have anyone interupting him. His mom was usually the one checking on him so no one had noticed his spiraling and forced him to do normal things like eat or drink water or sleep. Hell, he'd been in so deep on this assignment that he hadn't even had coffee since yesterday some time. At least he THOUGHT it was yesterday anyway, what was today... Tuesday? No, Thursday, it was just past midnight.

Riz let the chair thump back forwards before pushing out and away from the desk. The act of standing making him feel like he was out of sync with his on body, like someone had shifted it two inches to the left and forgot to move his soul at the same time. The sudden change in his position also making the headache that was previously just an ignorable throbing flare into a sharp stabbing behind his eyes and crushing pressure along the top of his head. The combination of the two heralding a migraine that had been lying in wait ready to strike.

He'd felt this awful before many many times and knew it usually meant he'd gone too long without eating or drinking anything so he resolved to do just that. The goblin kicking the balled up pages of notebook paper he'd thrown on the floor in frustration out of the way as he head out of his room to the kitchen.

His hand was almost touching the handle of the fridge door when Riz caught sight of his reflection in the glass of their microwave. The rogue freezing as a familiar feeling of wrongness washed over him before he backpedalleed away. The goblin dropping into a partial crouch and hissing, claws ready since he wasn't armed, as he faced down the creature reflected in the glass. His mirror image actually moved with him properly though, Riz slowly standing back up and creeping closer to get a better look.

His reflection looked wrong, though the microwave door wasnt the best mirror. The colours were all thrown out of wack and surely he didn't look that bad. His plans to get food and something to drink were quickly forgotten, the rogue heading for his bathroom to check in a properly reflective surface instead.

Riz flicked the light on in his bathroom, winceing at how bright it was as he stood on the stool so he could reach the mirror. Almost recoiling at the face that stared back at him and bringing a hand up to touch his own cheek. He barely recognised himself, the bags under his eyes darker than he'd ever seen them in stark contrast to how pale he looked. The thin sliver of what was usually white around his iris completely bloodshot and his eyes so sunken it made him look like a corpse.

He looked half dead, Riz turning on the tap and splashing some water on his face to see if that would help. It didn't. There was still a dead man staring back at him when he looked in the mirror again. Riz felt a shiver run down his spine the uncannyness of barely being able to recognise his own reflection, the goblin hopping off the stool and heading back to the kitchen to attempt to get some food and water into his stomach. He didn't really feel like having much now but he knew he should at least try, and perhaps a nap was necessary as well.

One reheated frozen lasagne, several glasses of water and a shower later Riz finally flopped onto his bed. The rogue dragging himself to lie with his back pressed against the wall as he pulled out his crystal. There was still nothing in the group chat so he flicked over to his friends fantasy-grams, Fig's the only one to have updated this week due to the poor reception the others had but it showed that she would be spending some time in hell with her dad.

Once he ran out of things to scroll through Riz turned off the screen. The device getting deposited under his pillow next to his arcubus as he rolled over and tried to get some sleep.

His insomnia tended to make sleeping hard at the best of times but tonight it looked like it was on its best game. His thoughts still racing at a mile a minute as he tried to calm down enough to sleep. He kept thinking about the stupid cypher, then about how his friends were doing and wondering if they were having fun. The last thought making his chest hurt as he curled up smaller and balled up his fists.

He wanted to talk to them and see how they were going so badly. Goblins by nature were not solitary creatures and it was fucking lonely being by himself, but they all had important stuff they were doing so he didn't want to intrude. They all had family or important work they were doing and he just had... homework. Homework that was confusing him so badly that he'd apparently gone four days without anything to eat and barely anything to drink.

Riz lay in the dark of his room for hours, eyes screwed shut as he desperately tried to sleep while the same thoughts rotated around in his brain too loud to ignore. The headache caused by how tired he was paradoxically making it even harder to sleep because he was in so much pain.

The sun was up by the time he gave up trying to sleep, the goblin dragging himself out of bed after lying there awake for nearly five hours. Riz trudging to the kitchen wearily, digging through drawers until he found an almost empty box of sleeping tablets, and shaking the last four out onto his palm. If sleep wasn't going to happen he was going to fucking force it even if tablets made him feel jetlagged afterwards. Unfortunatly, despite another couple hours cocooned under his sheets, all the tablets did was make him feel groggy rather than knock him out.

His hand brushed against his crystal when he rolled over for the thousandth time trying to get comfortable, the device vibrating when it detected the movement to inform him there were notifications he'd missed. Riz groaning and sitting up to flick on his phone and see what they were, smiling a little since Fig seemed to be blowing up the group chat with the photos she'd taken with Gortholax down in the bottomless pit now that she was back on the material plain.

He flicked his thumb across the screen to scroll through them all, pressing on one to leave a like before pausing as a thought occured to him. He needed sleep badly and nothing seemed to be helping but he knew something that would work, HAD worked, every single time so far.

He exited out of the group chat, scrolling through his contacts to bring up just Figs number and typing out a quick text. Hesitating for just a second over the send button before clicking it and flopping back onto the bed to wait for a response.

//Hey! If you're back in Elmville do you think you can come over for a bit? I need help with something.//

His tail flicked backwards and forwards over the edge of the bed as he waited fir a response, arm draped over his eyes as he tried to dull the ever-present migrain that had been his companion for the last day and a half. Riz only shifting his arm away to look at his crystal when he felt it vibrate with a new notification.

//Sure dude! I'll be there soon.//

He didn't move again until he heard Fig knocking at the front door, Riz hefting himself off his matress and heading over to let her in. The goblin knew he must look awful by her reaction, the bard hissing air through her teeth as he gave her a little wave of greeting and stepped out of the way so she could enter.

"What the fuck Riz. You look horrible." She put the coffee's she'd picked up on the way over down on the counter, rounding on the goblin as he locked the door behind her. "When was the last time you slept properly?" "Friday night." Riz winced at how croaky his voice sounded, the goblin clearing his throat and crossing his arms over his chest.

"You so did not sleep yesterday, you look like someone has punched you in the face... twice." She waved a hand at him, obviously trying to point out the bags under his eyes that he knew were there. "Whatever you need help with can wait you need a nap." "Not yesterday... last friday." he ducked his head, squeezing his upper arms until his claws dug into the skin and wrapping his tail around his ankle. "I tried, I can't sleep. I wanted you to help."

"Wait." Fig gave him a confused look, crouching to pick Riz up under the arms and sit him on the counter so they were close to eye-level with eachother. The archdevil holding him by the shoulders as she spoke to him. "You don't want help with some mystery or case or anything... you want me to help you sleep?"

"Yeah." he leaned his head to the side so it was resting against her hand, ears giving a little flick as he reached up to grab her wrists and hold them there. "Sleep spell. Please."

"Holy shit. You're actually asking me to sleep spell you?" She put a hand to his forehead, Riz leaning into it and purring at the contact as he shut his eyes. "You haven't got a fever or anything, are you sick or something? Where's your mom?"

"Bastion city. Working with a client until next week." Riz headbutt her palm since it was still pressed against his forehead, tail giving a little flick against the counter and swiping the empty sleeping pill bottle onto the floor by accident.

He didn't catch Figs glance towards the bottle and the wide-eyed look she gave it since his eyes were shut, but he felt her push some of her magic into him which helped releive his headache somewhat.

"Did she know you were having issues sleeping when she left?"

"She's been gone since Saturday, and I always have issues sleeping. It's not a new development I have insomnia." Riz snorted and gave her an amused look, though his expression was met by one of concern and he quickly let his smile drop. "I'm serious Fig. You've knocked me out for less, why is it a big deal this time if I'm actually asking for it."

"Because you're alone." She poked him in the forehead, stepping away and hopping on one foot as she undid each of her boots and kicked them off near the door.

"Whaaaat are you doing?"

"I'm not knocking you out and leaving you unsupervised, we'll both take a nap." She took off her coat too, tossing it onto the kitchen table before scooping Riz up into her arms. The goblin getting carried over to the couch where Fig flopped down on her back with Riz cuddled against her front.

He didn't resist the manhandling, simply trying to move so he was in a less awkward position. Fig had a pretty good grip on him though, the bard grinning and squeezing him hard in a hug until he gave up and accepted his fate. Face taking on a little more color as he blushed, but he did have to admit that lying against her chest was very comfortable.

"Can I at least skoot backwards a bit if you're not going to let me go? Using your stomach as a pillow has to be less awkward than lying on your boobs."

"Ugh I'm hurt, you don't mind lying against Fabians boobs."

Riz just hissed at her by way of answer, making Fig laugh before shuffling them both around so they were on their side instead. Riz huffing and moving so his back was pressed against her as she spooned him against her front. "Better?"

"Mmm."

"Good. I'll set a timer okay? I'll put you to sleep and will wake you up in eight hours." She gave his hair a fond ruffle, Riz relaxing somewhat as he watched her concentrating the spell in her fingers in front of his face. The goblin only distantly feeling himself go completely limp when she pressed her hand against his forehead and he finally fell asleep.

[therealdostoevsky]

what if murakami didn't specify the reason behind kizuki's death is because he wanted us to see ourselves in his place and give him a reason

[cruelplatonic]

my personal headcanon is the vees were unremarkable nobodies when they were alive. i just love it as a thematic throughline for them. they love to let the public of hell speculate on them being famed and acclaimed since before death, but the the truth is they were a d-list failed influencer that got by on cheap controversey and scamming, a broke junkie who burned every shaky bridge he ever had, and a worn-out broadcast production assistant with more rejected auditions and tossed out script pitches than he could count. nobody missed them when they were gone, nobody cared who they were until they were dead.

[mewtwo24]

You know reading vol 5 of mdzs before all the rest (don't ask me why I'm a clown and there were Circumstances) has to be the craziest experience of my life. Because it took all of ten minutes of wwx talking to literally hit me so hard in the gut I had to sit down and listen to really loud music for a while to calm down.

Who needs therapy when mxtx is alive and writing, I guess????? 🤡

Can't wait to get to the actual tragic parts I just know I'm gonna be that "help" frog phone meme

[elgaravel]

OC DUALITY

was tagged by @morvaris​ to take this uquiz for my ocs >:) thank you nico this was super fun!!

tagging: @numbaoneflaya @time-is-a-lake @aartyom @nuclearstorms @girlbosselrond @druidgroves @malefiicarum @swordcoasts  @aldcaldos @sufferthorn @steelport @calenhads @lavinet​ and anyone else who’d like to join in !!

you and the hat man

oh boy you're fighting demons aren't you? it's like you're in a constant staring competition with something that's always in the peripheral. what the fuck. (at least, that's how people who don't know you would react). at this point you've probably gotten pretty familiar with the hat man. he's a reliable kind of guy. keeps to himself, sure, but you can trust him to be there. maybe a haunting isn't too bad if it's never left your side. you can only imagine what it will be like when he's not there any more.

god-hungry scientist and their abominable child

you stitched something together inside of yourself and gave it life with light from the sky and now it won't die and you can't kill it because part of you loves it and you're not quite right in the head or the person you used to be but at the end of the day it's simply a beast of sadness. you crave the mercy you didn't get from your creators and so i'm telling you please forgive yourself. please hold the monster by the hand.

moon curse of the werewolf

you have found yourself hungered or sickened or ambitious to the point of emotional carnage. you are fine, until you're not, and then you could rip someone in your way apart with your bared teeth by complete accident, and later claw at yourself in fits of pain trying to apologize. do you look at the moon that blessed you in her name, at her marred beauty and baneful eyes, and wish she could just crush that loving-hateful heart of yours before it crushes itself? every bite you take out of flesh is a response to the threads of silver bullets in you that haven't healed. the duality is that the human inside is howling too, gnashing, and without the wolf pelt, everyone can ignore it and turn away. at some point, you got tired of the moon being your only witness. now the wolf is there to make sure others know that you are hurt, and deserving of humanity, of attention to wounds. because that wolf loves you; all of you; and knows when you are hurt better than yourself.

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

sometimes I think about The Last and want to scream

[theheadlessgroom]

https://www.tumblr.com/beatingheart-bride/707201367926849536/theheadlessgroom-beatingheart-bride

@beatingheart-bride

At this, Randall wanted to protest; he wanted to wave it all off, to say “I was just doing what anyone would do!”, but he knew that just wasn’t true. She was right, most people in the opera house probably wouldn’t have sacrificed a whole day, a day spent running the risk of getting sick while running errands, bringing her food and drink and keeping her company, no, he was sure most wouldn’t have done such a thing...he still wanted to protest, to say it was nothing, but ultimately, he found he just couldn’t argue anymore.

Despite the difficulty he had in wrapping his head around the whole thing, he nevertheless willed himself to believe her (difficult as that was), swallowing hard as he managed to saying, “W-Well, you’re...you’re very welcome, E-Emily, I...I was just glad I could help!”

He blushed again and averted his gaze, half-expecting her to laugh at his incompetence when it came to rudimentary matters like accepting thanks...he kicked himself a little for thinking Emily would do such a thing, reminding himself that she wasn’t like those who used to point and laugh at him, that she wouldn’t do such a thing, but still, he had that moment of expectation before he glanced back at her, smiling shyly behind the mask.

[nightingale-prompts]

Nightwing gets a sidekick introducing: "Batboy"

Continuation of this post: "Danny has Bat wings"

|Next|

Dick tries to tell himself that he's better then Bruce. He's not going around taking young orphaned boys with unique abilities willy-nilly. No, he very careful. Besides this is first- well second sidekick.

He's doing a public service anyways. You can't have a kid with giant bat wings just falling from buildings. If Nightwing hadn't stepped in to stop those goons trying to catch the kid and sell him then who knows what would have happened. What if they tried to cut off his wings and turn the boy into a bloody trophy for the Bats?

There are many villains in Bludhaven who'd take the boy out or take him in. Dick already had a sinking feeling that Heartless would try his hand at killing the kid after all he targets the weak and helpless like a coward.

It was easy enough to convince the boy to be his friend. Dick did have natural charm and charisma after all. All it took was a meal from batburger and a fruit cup to get the kid to open up.

Danny (apparently his family gave him a normal name) didn't live with his family anymore due to ideological differences. That difference was that they thought he shouldn't exist anymore and wanted to turn him into an experiment. Poor kid didn't even get to finish his freshman year of school before he had to leave. He was a small town vigilante for a few months before the incident.

Dick saw an opportunity but was subtle about it. He invited the kid to live with him until he got his education. Its also totally ethical because the kid was a vigilante already.

Everything kind of went by quickly. Dick had done everything possible to hide Danny until he could come up with a plan of how to tell everyone.

True Dick didn't "need" a sidekick but come on, look at him! He's a boy with bat wings! Dick could put a little cowl on him and dress him up like Batman. I mean he's not a dog but it would be funny. The irony there, the bird-themed hero now had a bat-themed sidekick. That is the universe's way of sending a message.

After training Danny Dick learned that the kid had an endless supply of energy and ADHD that rivaled his own at that age. The kid also couldn't fly, it was actually closer to gliding which was still useful but he kind of looked like a flying squirrel when he jumped off ledges.

The term issue with taking Danny in was that Dick was still a Wayne and while he could hide the kid while he was swinging through Bludhaven, Dick Grayson could not.

Danny could hide his wings like they weren't even there whenever he wanted to look human. Which was a start, next he needed a new identity. One that wouldn't tip anyone off.

Dick needed to pull some strings without alerting Barbara or Tim. A new name was forged: "Daniel Nightingale" (Dick patted himself on the back for that one).

With that Dick was ready to let Danny out in the field. For the most part, Danny was as reliable as any Robin if not a bit crazy. Danny was way too charming for his own good but also completely feral. The public adored the domino-masked kid in his green and black costume. Danny didn't wear a cape because of his wings so he used them as a cloak.

When citizens saw them in public they'd offer the kid fruit cups and candies just to get close enough to see his wings. The people of Bludhaven were also excited to have their own version of Robin since Gotham had so many. Also, the kid was so marketable. Look at the way his wings flapped when he was excited.

Danny's or more specifically "Batboy's" presence would not go unnoticed.

Well, this can't end well.

Welp. Dick should have expected this. He couldn't even be upset. He doesn't regret anything that he's done.

Danny was still in bed, actually it was a hammock which was more comfortable for a bat. Dick wondered if he could sleep upside down. The kid was comfortable here and probably better off here than in Gotham. Once the adoption goes public however things will get complicated. Danny may end up Bludhaven's sweetheart or outcast. He'll probably end up fine...probably.

[colorisbyshe]

I just came across a tweet saying that Aaron Bushnell--the man who burned himself to death while yelling Free Palestine until he couldn't anymore--will be "in the history books" and that phrase has been coming up a lot. And it chafes me every time I read it, every time I hear it.

Cause, a. no, a lot of this won't be in the American history books. American atrocities, especially those overseas but even those against American people (especially American people of color), don't go in the literal history books. Or the figurative ones. Most American atrocities are wiped from the collective memory... sometimes as soon as they happen. They go unreported (like the first person to self immolate to protest this genocide), they go erased, they go whitewashed, they go falsely recontextualized, and they get twisted into pro-America sentiment--we were right for those atrocities, we were wrong for them but we learned, we didn't learn from it but we felt bad about it and should be comforted for that soreness.

And b. is harder to verbalize but I'm gonna try. It feels... performative in the literal sense. Like we only value what is happening today out of deference for how people in the future will perceive it. We aren't doing anything to change anything NOW, to care about other people NOW, but so that one day... we'll be remembered a caring. Like this man killed himself as gesture, as a move for his legacy.

And I see this phrase--"this will be remembered in the history books"--whipped out in extremely horrific contexts. A child's dead body hanging off a wall, "oh, this will be in the history books." What does that even mean? Was her death worth the historical context? Was it necessary to embellish the horror of it all?

Would the people reading these hypothetical history books not get the wrongness of the genocide without the death of a little girl that you're using as... window dressing?

It just seems so weirdly self satisfied. Like you're eager to note you just witnessed a real moment that people will remember decades from now. When... a lot of people won't which is what is so tragic. A lot of people don't even know it's happening right now.

Because, again, it's not being reported. And when it is being reported it's not being reported honestly.

I'm not saying this well but it just feels like such a gross reaction to things we're seeing in real time.

Why does it have to matter later to matter now? Why is the hypothetical reaction of a history book reader the thing you think about?

A lot of people won't live to read those "history books" because people, right now, aren't doing anything to help them.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fan fic Idea: Danny Fenton's Ex

Danny wants to know that he did not go looking for a fight. He merely wanted to have some of the best hot dogs this side of the USA, in Tucker's words. The human world had changed a lot across differnt timelines but his best friend had assure him, this one was particually tasty.

He planned to pop in, hunt down the street cart filled with buns and meat, then pop out of Gotham. He was meant to visit for less than an hour at most.

He just happened to be at the wrong place and time. It really wasn't his fault! Danny had been minding his own business, using a paper map on the edge of a tall building (his phone had broken in the last ghost fight. Not that it would do any good since it wasn't connected to any living towers), squinting at the streets below, hoping to figure out where he was. The next thing he knew, an angry child leaped out at him with a sword.

Of course, he defended himself! The kid was doing some insane slashes in the air, and Danny had fought enough samurai ghosts to know not to underestimate how powerful a katana indeed was. He had been able to beat the child, encasing his arms in ecto-chains, after a full half hour of combat.

Danny had been dead tired- pun not intended- but just as he thought he was done, a second child had leaped out at him. This one carrying a bo-staff. It took another thirty minutes to beat this one, and just as he was gearing up for a lecture, a third child appeared.

She was wearing all purple and seemed to favor strong kicks. Danny had the bruise to prove it, but just as he could take her down—and stop the other two from escaping since they were attempting to do so—he was attacked by an actual shadow and her red bucket-head friend.

Now, those two were difficult to beat, especially when it was two vs. one. Shadow reacted as if she could predict all of his moves before he even made them, while Bucket Head made incredible shots with his guns covering her attacks.

Danny had already been expelled from his other two fights, so it was a miracle he was able to trick Shadow by allowing more of Phantom to bleed into his fighting style. She couldn't predict the dead!

He ended up on a roof with five children- okay, more like a child, two teenagers, and what could be the early twenties, but they were all young to him. Each was tied up securely with some of his own ecto-chains and glaring- he could feel the hate in their eyes even behind their masks- trying desperately to catch his breath.

"Oh boy, I'm not as young as I used to be. " He gasps between huffs. Maybe Sam was on to something when she lectured them for not having enough greens, normal exercise routines, or even taking vitamins. They really weren't teenagers anymore. "Ugh, I think I pulled something. I need to lie down..."

Just as Danny is allowing himself to slide to the floor, two more shadows jump at him. This time he's far too tired to dodge, and the blue one manages to land a drop kick to his chin. The force has Danny spinning in place, losing his balance, and slamming hard against the roof.

The tied-up children cheer, and if he wasn't a walking bruise right now, Danny would be half tempted to show them all a round two.

"Great Gatsby!" He cries out of reflex, rolling onto his back, ready to take a swing-

"Danny?" a new familiar voice cuts in. The sound is something Danny will never forget, even after all the years they have been apart. He used to fall asleep to that voice, muttering into his hair and warm arms wrapped around him, making promises never kept.

Danny whips his head around to see a man in a bat costume. He squits, studying the strong curve of a very familiar jaw and his voice-

"Wayne?" He blinks. Those lips- so familiar and different all in one- curve into a surprise, but please smile. Yes, that is definitely Bruce.

"Danny, I haven't seen you since-"

"You broke up with me through a letter on the hotel note-pad? A note-pad that I had to pay for since you touched it!?" Danny hisses, suddenly energized with pure, unadulterated rage. The man freezes.

"I, uh, see you're still upset about that." Wayne winces, shuffling on his feet- Bruce Wayne, the little human he found wandering the Infinite Realms, rescued, helped, trained, and had become human again to have the man dump him to "find himself."

Danny knew he found a lot of ladies on his self-discovery trip. He never forgave him. It has been embarrassing to have to return to the Realms to his friends' knowing eyes and his sister's sad shrug.

You knew a human could never understand or live with beings like us. We aren't like them anymore. She had told him. It was bond to end in disaster.

"What is happening?" The bow-staff kid asks

"I don't know, but I don't like it," Blue tells him.

Danny ignores them to glare at the man. "What the hell are you doing here, Wayne?"

Wayne frowns. "You used to call me Bruce."

"I used to do a lot of things, Wayne." Danny stands, gesturing to the group of people he has captured. "Can you kindly disappear again? I'm in the middle of something."

The man makes no move to leave. Instead, he tilts his head. "Those are my children."

"Of course they are." Danny rolls his eyes. "Tell them to not attack innocent tourists-"

"Are you here on vacation? Would you like me to give you a tour?"

The familiar words- the ones from their first date- make rage boil in his core. "Oh, go burn in the worst levels of hell!"

He doesn't stick around for a reply, twisting in a tight circle and ripping a hole into the Realms. He ignores Wayne's call of his name; it's too late- fifteen years too late- and shifts back into Phantom.

He prays he never sees that deadbeat again. Or the family his wife gave him. Not that Danny cares; it's been years, and he could care less what Bruce Wayne and his stupid kin got up to.

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

"Bruce, I say this with all my heart, what the fuck was that?"

"That was the one I let get away."

There is a moment of silence before Damian speaks up. "I demand to be taken out of my misery. Mercy, kill me now, Drake."

[velvetcrimsonkisses]

Blind Gojo adjusting to his new life…

The fight against Sukuna took a lot from everybody. With everyone making sacrifices, it was only right Satoru did too. He wanted to win, he was the strongest right? He had to win, no matter what. Losing the six eyes was just the mere cost of winning the battle. It was worth it right?

Satoru believed he didn’t deserve to live, but he had too now for everyone who died. Ultimately, deciding to now live his life as Satoru Gojo and not "the strongest” anymore. Losing the six eyes initially lead to frustration and anger, as he tried to adjust to being blind. He felt useless for a while, not being as efficient as he was. But over time, this loss lead to his personal growth. Gojo developed a deeper sense of humility and empathy for others, finally understanding the struggles of those who are not as gifted as he once was.

It wasn’t until he met you that he started to feel a sense of normalcy. And here he was at almost 30 learning how to live as a human for the first time. You taught him what true genuine love was and you patiently taught him how to reciprocate it back to you. He learned how to express his feelings to you instead of bottling them up inside. You created a safe space for him where he could unveil the true side of himself. Trust and intimacy forming between you two. Both of you navigating the complexities of loving each other.

He also didn’t know exactly what you looked like, not that he cared. His other senses were still in top shape and keen allies to him. That’s why his hands are always on you, he could feel you. Feeling the warmth of your body against his fingertips, large cold hands always coming to your face. He liked tracing your bone structure with the pads of his fingers, caressing your cheeks, and especially savoring your lips against his own. With each caress, he discovered new assets of your beauty, not defined by your visual appearance but by the sensations that awakened within him.

He could also smell your scent. He knows when you walk into a room when the sweetness of your perfume fills his nostrils, causing it to twitch like a bunny. He buries his nose into your hair because he loves the fresh fragrance of your shampoo. He loves when you bake him all his favorite sweets, the aroma of brown sugar lingering on you makes you smell even sweeter.

The sound of your voice. Satoru could never get tired of it. For once in his life, Satoru found himself not being the talkative one in a relationship. He cherished all the words that would leave your lips, each word a symphony to his ears. In the mornings Satoru would always lay in bed until you woke up waiting for the sound of your voice to be the first thing he heard each day.

All these aspects combined Satoru knew he was finally living the life he finally dreamed of. Every touch, every word, every moment was filling his deepest desires. In your presence, he found the reason why he deserved to live. He found peace and joy, a sense of completeness that he had long yearned for all in one person.

Even though he couldn't see anymore he felt things he didn’t before. He made up his mind that he didn't want to waste any more time. Satoru was now certain that his blindness didn’t stop his ability to love or to commit fully to you and he was more than grateful that you showed him that. It wasn’t long before you both decided to marry.

“She’s perfect…” you utter softly, handing the baby gently into an anxious Satoru’s arms. He cradles the baby just like you taught him, careful to not get too excited and accidentally hurt her. The baby babbles as she feels the comforting warmth of her father.

“The little sounds she makes are my favorite thing to hear,” he says, poking the baby’s cheek. “Describe her again to me, will you?” Satoru looks up from the baby, trying to decipher where you were.

You walk over to join him on the couch. “Of course, she has your beautiful blue eyes…” You noticed Satoru smiling, still holding his daughter close to him. “And your white hair…” you continue, Satoru’s finger coming up to her head, feeling the softness in her hair.

You describe every detail you could about the little baby to Satoru. You tell him about how her eyes seem to gaze into his soul full of love, and the way her tiny nose wrinkles when she sleeps just like his. A lone tear falls down Satoru's face, filled with heartache knowing that he will never be able to see her with his own eyes.

In that vulnerable moment, you hold Satoru close, letting him know that you were there. He smiles at you as he feels your touch, sniffling. There was determination in Satoru’s eyes. He was going to cherish every moment with his family.

"I'll be there for both of you," Satoru whispers, his voice filled with quiet resolve. His words carry a promise.

Thank you @suguwife for this lovely idea and the discord server as well!

[nerdy-novelist017]

A Date (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader Pt 3)

Thank you so much for all your kind words, likes and reblogs on my last two posts! You guys are keeping me so entertained with the comments!

Ugh I rewrote this like 3 times :( I just couldn't get it right and I'm still not sure how I feel about it OH WELL

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 2.2K

Summary- You were sure you'd never see Benny Cross again. . . you were wrong.

******

“Benny’s been asking for ya.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you nearly dropped the receiver into the bowl of cake batter. Kathy’s statement came out of left field, the two of you having been discussing the latest news on the block – what kind of lipstick Sheryl Dickie uses that somehow always lasts an entire night of bar hopping. “What?”

“Yeah, says he’s real desperate to ask you somethin’,” Kathy’s tone was flippant, but you’ve known her long enough to hear the excitement she’s hiding in her voice.

“What could he possibly have to talk to me about?” You asked as you set the whisk down and moved around the kitchen counter to peak down the hallway towards the living room where you knew your father sat in his large recliner, watching a rerun of Bonanza. 

“I dunno, maybe you should come to another meetin’ so you can find out.”

“No, I’m not going to anymore of those.” you declared firmly, yanking the cord so that the phone was up to your other ear. “I don’t know how you can stand being around those guys.”

Kathy laughed, the static spiking. “C’mon, they’re fun, and you know it. Did you tell your parents how you got to ride on the back of a Vandal’s bike, and not just any Vandal!”

“No!” you squeaked. “And they’re never going to know. It was a one-time thing.”

“It doesn’t have to be. They’re having another meetin’ tonight. I’m sure Benny could pick you up–”

“Well, I can’t tonight,” you cut her off. “I have plans.”

“What plans?”

“My date.”

“Date?” Kathy asked, voice lowering dubiously. “With who?”

“Pete,” you said quietly. 

“Who?” she asked again.

You sighed. “Pete? The guy from Mama’s church?” 

Pete was introduced to you last week by your mother who was introduced to him by his mother. It was a train of people who wanted to matchmake, to see young love blossom before their eyes, even if it was forced. Pete was nice enough and he had kind eyes that sat behind wide-rimmed glasses. You’d been on one other date with him. He was an engineering student in his first year and he talked a lot about his school. He liked school. And he liked to golf nearly every weekend (his family belonged to the country club on the upper side of town). And mostly – he talked a lot about himself. He seemed to really like himself too.

“Oh, okay.” Kathy sounded unimpressed.

“My family really likes him. My dad likes him.”

“Yeah?” 

At her unenthusiastic response, you added quickly, “And I’m excited!”

“Is that why you’re stress-baking?” Kathy inquired as if she could sense it.

You glance down at the bowl of cake batter. No, it wasn’t, actually. You weren’t nervous to go on your second date with Pete; he didn’t make her nervous, didn’t fill your belly with those pesky butterflies. Pete was . . . just Pete. No, you were stress-baking because of a certain blonde Bikerider whose ocean blue eyes wouldn’t leave your thoughts all night. You were up, tossing and turning, replaying every moment with him like a broken record. It was one ride, the logical side of your mind had to say, and you’ll never see him again. You allowed yourself the rest of the night to think about him, and then you wouldn’t set aside any more time. 

In theory, it was a nice strategy. But when you woke up today, your thoughts were absolutely clouded with him and his incredibly direct eye-contact and his deeply rich voice and his hand touching your thigh and his lips encasing the cigarette—

You were doing it again! It had been one ride! One ride and a few hours. One ride where your arms wrapped so tightly to his solid form. One ride where he showed you places you’d never seen before, from a point of view you’d never been before. One ride where you felt as though you were seeing the world in a whole new light. One ride that you couldn’t get out of your head.

“Yes, because of Pete,” you replied evenly. “And I’m going to have a good time with him tonight.”

There’s a smile in her voice when she says, “Okay, sure. Say, what restaurant did ya say he was takin’ you?”

********

Thanking the driver, you stepped out of the cab, your heels connecting softly with the concrete of the sidewalk. Taking a moment to smooth any wrinkles on your pink dress, your gaze fluttered across the street to the restaurant Pete told you to meet him at. 

Ricardo’s was one of the most expensive restaurants in town, somewhere you never found yourself frequenting, but Pete absolutely gushed about their food. Coming from old money, Pete had no hesitation picking here for your second date. Pete’s family was well off, that’s what your mother liked to point out. He was a good boy with good money. He would provide for you, buy you a nice house with a picket fence in the front yard. A safe bet for the same routine life that nearly all the women of your family had spanning back several generations.

You made your way across the street, eyes taking in the lineup of expensive cars parked out front: Mercedes, Rolls Royce, Cadillac . . . Harley-Davidson motorcycle. You did a double-take at the shiny metal glinting underneath the streetlamp, eyes traveling upwards to the figure leaning casually against it. He was looking at the restaurant, head turned to give a generous view of his profile, and he hadn’t noticed you yet. For a split second, you considered taking advantage of that and booking it into the front door before he had a chance to stop you. But some deeply intrinsic part of you yearned to memorize every detail of him and you simply couldn’t look away. As a moth drawn to flame, you were drawn to him, to the golden streaks of his hair, down to the strong slope of his nose, the curve where his top lip sat so perfectly against the bottom – even with the cigarette tucked between. He wore long sleeves under his club jacket and the same distressed jeans from your last encounter. Half shrouded in the darkness of night, with the orange glow of the streetlight nearest to him, he looked like a beacon of mystery. Abandoning your previous course, you turned and approached him.

“What are you doing here?” You asked once you were close enough for him to hear you. 

Benny turned and a smile broke out over his features, eyes sweeping down your figure. “Do you dress like that all the time or only when you’re gonna see me?” He asked, nodding to your dress and heels. 

You stopped about 6 feet away from him (a reasonable distance), hopping up onto the sidewalk. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” 

“What a chance encounter,” he proclaimed with a secretive wink that sent your stomach on a roller coaster ride. 

“Chance encounter, or Kathy’s loose lips?” you quipped and he rubbed a hand over his mouth to keep from smiling, fingers grazing through the blonde, recently-trimmed facial hair.  

“Why are you here?” You asked again, this time a touch quieter.  

“Well, I have a coupon,” he replied simply.

You couldn’t stop the smile from tugging at your lips, your brows raising incredulously. “A coupon? To Ricardo’s?”

“Mm-hm,” he nodded, straight-faced.

You rolled your eyes at his antics. He had a coupon, your ass. A well-dressed elderly couple walked past you both on the sidewalk, each shooting a look of disapproval toward the dirty young man leaning against his death machine. Benny seemed not to notice them, his gaze still on you. 

“Why are you here?” he questioned.

“I–I have a date,” you replied and desperately tried to ignore the heat rising to your face at the admission. “But something tells me you already know that.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, looking down to the ground for all of five seconds before his gaze flashed back up to you. “Wanna go for a ride, Little Bunny?”

“What? No.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Why not?”

“Well, I just told you I'm here for a date,” you replied with a tilt of your head. 

Benny shrugged. “So?”

You shook your head but he continued, “Why are you wastin’ your time with dates when we’re gonna be married anyway?”

Your mouth fell open in surprise. The nerve on this guy! Part of you was surprised that he still had it in his head of marrying you. You thought maybe he had a few too many beers last night or was just smooth-talking you so that you’d let him sleep with you. But here he was, showing up on the sidewalk, giving you those puppy eyes. You’d already denied him once. Could he not take a hint?

“I don’t recall you ever asking.” you pointed out, feeling emboldened by his casual attitude. 

He perked up at that, tossing the remainder of his cigarette to the ground. “You want me to ask?”

You fought to remain neutral-faced at his playfulness. “No, thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me . . . I have a date.” One that you were excited about before you caught sight of Benny and your train of thoughts completely derailed.

Benny held his hands up in a conciliatory way and you turned on your heel, leaving him out on the streets as you made your way inside.

******

The clock on the far wall seemed to be mocking you, minutes ticking by mercilessly. You resisted looking at it, instead planting your chin in the palm of your hand as you watched the door, waiting for Pete’s familiar face to appear. It had been over an hour. He was over an hour late for your date. 

Each time the waitress returned to fill your glass of water, you told yourself a new lie. He was just stuck at work, he’ll be here soon. He was running behind getting ready, he’ll be here soon. There must have been an emergency, he’ll be here soon. He wouldn’t stand you up, he’ll be here soon. 

But as the seconds passed, you sunk further and further into your seat, humiliation forming a ball in your stomach. Surely, he had gotten his days mixed up? He really seemed to enjoy your first date, so why was he nowhere to be seen. Every time someone walked through the front door, the little bell chiming above, you glanced up, certain it would be him. But it never was. At first, you were angry. How could he have the audacity to leave you hanging without so much as calling you before he left if he knew he wouldn’t be able to make it. Then a bitter thought came to mind: what if he stood you up because he didn’t want to go out with you again. What if you weren't good enough for him. You had spent your whole life on the never ending hamster wheel of trying to be good enough for everyone else. Was your hard work even noticed?

Recognizing the sting of unshed tears, you looked down at the napkin folded neatly in your lap, blinking rapidly in an attempt to get control of yourself. The bell chimed over the front door, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look over at it, not wanting to feel the crushing disappointment of another wealthy customer walking inside and not your date. 

Then a flash of dark clothing popped across from you and you looked up just as Benny Cross slid into the empty seat. You opened your mouth, but no words came out. He leaned forward, elbows of his leather jacket propped over the tablecloth.

“Pete not show?” he asked, expression solemn. 

Your ears burned and you shook your head. Too preoccupied by your embarrassment, it didn’t even occur to you that you had never told him Pete’s name. 

He frowned and he genuinely appeared upset. Unable to maintain his direct gaze, you glanced away and caught the eyes of everyone else in the restaurant staring wide-eyed at the two of you. You realized that it was Benny who they were gawking at. And you didn’t seem to notice until now that he looked totally out of place with his worn clothes and dirty hands. As if sensing their not-so-subtle staring, Benny turned and looked about the room.

“What’s with all the stiff shirts in here?” he asked, sending you a conspiratorial glance. “I think they might be intimidated by you.”

“Me?” You furrowed your brow. It definitely wasn’t you they were looking at. In fact, the only person who was staring at you was Benny. 

“Yeah, I bet they’ve never seen anyone as pretty as you. Most people haven’t and they don't know how to act when they do.” He grinned and you had to look down at your lap as heat rose to your face.  

“I guess Pete wouldn’t agree,” you muttered quietly, feeling the anger in your heart fizzle out to meer disappointment. 

“Fuck Pete,” Benny said passionately, causing an elderly woman behind you to gasp and you giggled, shocked at his language. Benny was bad, he was trouble . . . but he was also fun, and you couldn’t hide your eagerness as he leaned his arms across the table, moving closer to address you privately. 

“You wanna get out of here, Bunny?” His question sent a gust of anticipation through your veins. 

“Yeah,” you admitted, smiling shyly. 

He stood quickly and you followed in suit. Then he did something that caused a wave of butterflies to roll through your stomach; he reached out and clasped his hand with you, interlocking fingers tightly. You grinned, excitement making you feel light and airy as he pulled you through the restaurant, past all the staring faces and harsh whispers and out the door into the night which felt alive with a whole new feeling of possibilities. 

*Tag List*

@imusicaddict @elizabeth916 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @dudii4love @ironmooncat @beebeechaos @astrogrande @pearlparty @themorriganisamonster @sillylittlethrowaway @ughdontbeboring @penwieldingdreamer @charmingballoon @eugene-emt-roe  @sunnbib @semperamans @groovyangelkisses @killerqueenfan

[actual-changeling]

we do not talk enough about the moment right before crowley puts his sunglasses back on. the "nothing lasts forever" is devastating and if you're like me your eyes were so full of tears you couldn't see the screen the first time you watched it (just like crowley, look at us all twinning in sadness!).

there is a shift that happens in his eyes and i think it is absolutely fascinating and heartbreaking at the same time.

we begin with crowley averting his gaze from aziraphale's face and staring off into the distance instead, and you can see his spirit break. that crowley just lost the one thing in the world he cannot live without and we can see it written across his face like a neon sign.

then, as you'd expect, he gives into the need to cover up his pain, to try and make himself less vulnerable, and even before he lifts his glasses he looks down so aziraphale can no longer see his eyes.

now, the next part is what would not let me out of its grasp all day. we know it happens because of his demeanour afterwards and up until the kiss, but you can actually watch as crowley makes himself numb to the world.

i am intimately familiar with dissociation as a trauma and stress response, and while you can never fully control it, you do eventually find the switch in your mind that makes you snap back into the haze. crowley has had six thousand years to get really, really good at leaving reality behind when he needs and/or wants to.

that's exactly what he does.

he still looks sad, and yet there's just something distinctly distant in his eyes, the shift from openly heartbroken to "i don't want to feel any of this let me leave".

glasses? on

emotions? off

hotel? trivago

i have stared at those four frames more than any person probably should and i don't know if it's the light, if i am going insane, or if there is a single tear sliding out of his right (our left) eye. i'm probably insane and the light is a bitch so if anyone has some high resolution shots or anything that could answer that question without a doubt PLEASE do add it.

by now you are probably ready to threaten me with a knife in a dark alley but before you do that or drive your car off a cliff, let me tell you the best part:

aziraphale notices.

they might be communicating on two different frequencies but aziraphale knows crowley. he knows and loves him, and, most importantly, over the last few years he has gotten used to seeing crowley without his glasses. aziraphale could probably write a book on the expressions in his eyes alone and watches that shift happen and is devastated.

look.

he tries to make himself hope the same second, tries to convince himself crowley is putting on his glasses so they can leave together, but he knows.

aziraphale sees the light leave crowley's eyes, sees crowley leave, knowing that he is quite literally running away from him. you and me against the world, angel, but in that moment crowley firmly pushes him back to "the world" (or tries to, anyway).

the entire season we see crowley take off his glasses whenever he enters the bookshop to the point where he's running around without them on in broad daylight with jimbriel right there.

can you imagine how hurt and confused aziraphale must be?

because what crowley is telling him, if we really, really break it down, is that aziraphale is no longer a safe person for him. and repairing that trust is going to take time and work, no matter how much crowley loves him, how badly they love and need each other.

anyway to seal this off and really rub in the pain - how it started vs. how it ended. <3

oh one last thing: now crowley no longer has a single person he can be himself around, no one that knows him, no one he trusts. no one in whose presence he can take his glasses off.

and outside of the bentley and his own flat, he no longer has a place to do so either. the bookshop was theirs. with aziraphale gone, is it really a safe place anymore? is it somewhere he can just let himself be knowing he will be looked after and protected?

easy answer: no.

alright, off i go. see y'all on the next angst post or in the tags.

[imsilay]

LETHAL

NSFW! mdni, cw: possessive behavior, somnophilia, drugging, stalker!König, obsessive König (idk lmk if i forget anything)

word count: 1.5k

summary: he was picky and he picked you.

next chapter here

art cr: Tava_tavatic on twt

You were doing the dishes as he was watching you from the apartment building next door which had a wonderful view of your bedroom and kitchen. He had seen enough to know many things about you and your life. You left your house at 10 AM every day and returned at 8 PM. You were a homebody, never wanting to leave your home aside from work and you only had your cat for company. You lived alone in a nice house and didn't often have friends over. He couldn't see any guys when your friends came by, meaning you were single, perfect.

He could even hear the music you were playing while doing the dishes. Your delicious-looking lips moved in time with the song, mumbling the lyrics. He couldn't tear his eyes off your lips. Focusing on them and imagining how they would taste. Perhaps blackberry? He had seen the lip balm you bought a few days before when you complained about how dry your lips were in the winter. Would you let him taste it and find out? Would you even look at him after discovering what he did?

His thoughts were cut off when you finished cleaning the dishes and embraced your cat, it was bed time. His gaze was glued on your back as you left the kitchen and disappeared into your living room, and then reappeared in your bedroom. He knew every part of your house. His heart raced when you put the cat down on your bed and then began removing your shirt revealing the curves of your body and the black bra he was stupidly fond of. He moved closer to the window without realizing it. Crossing his arms to stop the aching feeling to touch your smooth skin, his fingers dug into his arms when you finally tossed the shirt somewhere in your room, probably onto the chair, and then threw yourself onto your mattress.

Yawning and getting comfortable with your cat, it purred and get its place next to you. He wishes it was him… Curling next to you falling asleep with the warmth of your body. But it was impossible, cause he was just your sweet neighbor that you only had small chats, cause he was fucking massive and probably would take the majority of the space of your bed. You eventually fell asleep, he checked his watch. Just in time.

Well maybe it wasn’t that impossible…

He continued his observation for a few more minutes but he was unable to contain himself anymore. He had to be with you. He had to feel you, your body, your hair, the curve of your waist and hips. He wanted to touch your lips, but he was afraid that if he kissed you he would just get lost into them and fuck you there.

He shook his head and pulled himself out of his thoughts before they got dirtier. He grabbed the keys of his and your house and made his way to your apartment. After entering your home and closing the door behind himself, he took his sweet time to breathe in the smell. It was full of you, it made his head spin and heart race. This was his first time coming into your house when you’re there. You were so introverted and had barely any friends. You were living happily in your small world, that was until he came.

The man was over two meters and had on a strange looking mask. He immediately drew your attention because he just looked like some game characters you played. At first he was distant, cold. His icy-blue eyes were intimidating but somehow inviting. You were the first to start the conversation with him, asking about his work. You two became closer with time but it was never too friendly. He was just some neighbor you knew. But he wanted more. Much more.

So after many months of observation and gaining a lot of information about you, he managed to copy your keys. He would come into your house and feed your cat with treats making his presence known and loved. Unfortunately just with your cat. But now his dreams were coming true. He had given you some homemade cookies. And poor you accepted them without any suspicion and now you were on your bed, in a deep sleep, as he walked into your room. Your cat immediately noticed him.

But he was too mesmerized by your sleeping form on the bed that he was frozen in his place. The cat meowed loudly, drawing his attention to it, he gave it some treats he brought with him. Everything was planned. When the cat was out of the room and the door of your bedroom was locked, he walked to your bed. He was finally here. Right next to you as you slept beautifully. He swallowed thickly and sat on the bed. The bed made a squeaking noise with his weight.

You looked even more pretty this close. His gaze lingered on your face; his breath hitched when his gaze stopped on your lips. He reached out a hand and brushed the strands of hair off your face. He was so nervous that his hands were shaking when he touched your hair. It was as soft as he imagined it would be. He tucked your hair behind your ear; his fingers lingered on your jaw before stopping on your chin and tilting your head up just a little, just so he could see your face better. Your lips parted and a soft sigh escaped from your lips when he did; his heart skipped a beat.

You continued to sleep, without noticing the man's touch on your face, thanks to the cookies. His thumb caressed your lips. He closed his eyes for a moment and bit his lower lip. He was holding the urge to give into his feelings, to give in to his desires and take you just then, in that moment. But he had to be patient. He wanted your first time together to be special, like you deserved. But it was turning him on so much to see you in that vulnerable state. He just wanted to tore of your bra and see what’s underneath. Then move to your sleeping shorts and take them off along with your panties so he could eat you out until you cum or wake up. He wondered what your expression would look like.

But still… it was just his fantasies. It caused him pain physically. “Scheiße, Maus.” he mumbled with a sigh. He took of his mask with his still trembling hands and put it on your nightstand, then took of his boots placing them on the floor next to your bed. He was ready to curl up with you. He climbed next to you, close. So close that you felt his breath on your face. His heart was beating like crazy now. His hands found your waist. “Gott.” he hissed when he felt how soft your skin was. His arms snaked around your waist and drew you close until your body fit perfectly with his, lips only centimeters apart. “Mine.” he growled. He felt like he was going to have a heart attack because the proximity of your body. Your body was almost disappeared inside his arms. It only made him want to protect and posses you.

His fingers caressed your skin as he watched your face closely. To memorize everything about you. He even tried to count your eyelashes. It was stupid but he was just too lost in your beauty. One of his hands found yours and put it on his face. Like you was caressing his cheek. It was pathetic but he was too desperate for your affection. He left your hand on his cheek and his hand found your back. His fingers tracing up and down on your spine then eventually stopped on the clasp of your bra. “Nein, not now.” he scolded himself with his eyes frowned. His gaze found your lips again and softened. He wanted- no he craved to kiss you. Your lips looked delicious.

He swallowed and closed his eyes promising himself that he would stop after a taste. When he opened his eyes, he was determined to contain himself; to show restraint. So, his hand was on your chin again, tilting your head up to meet his lips. When his lips brushed against yours, he took in a sharp breath; like someone just hit him with a bat, kissing you felt like it. His hand on your waist pulled you closer, as close as he could. His kiss started slowly, with all of his love and affection; with all of his feelings. But the craving... the craving only grew. His whole body shook as he stole your breath. The determination of containing himself was no where to be found with his morals. He moaned into your mouth and his cock throbbed. His hands traveled down and big palms covered your hips. The kiss was sloppy and hungrier now. He was too lost into heaven. You were his heaven.

a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked the content ofc<3

Stalker König has a special place in my heart. this is definitely my favorite work. also i post everyday -sometimes 2 posts in a day- so if you follow me i won’t disappoint ;)

i’m so sleepless so i’m just gonna post this and post the rest tomorrow.

[lovifie]

Smut | 838 words | Masterlist

Cw: mentions of alcohol, blowjob, Simon likes red lipstick.

Simon, and his civilian girlfriend that he was so afraid to introduce to his teammates.

He knows the men are great men, and would (and he has) give his life to protect them. But he also knows that Johnny and Gaz with one too many drinks turn into a constant dick joke, enough to drive anyone away. 

Still, tired of hearing the constant yapping from both sides to meet; surprisingly, it was Price the one who asked the most about “When are you going to introduce us to your missus, son?”, he finally agreed. 

He tells you again and again that it's just a couple of drinks at a pub near the base, nothing fancy, nothing special. 

You still knock the breath out of his lungs when you stand in the living room of your flat, twirling around for him. “What you think?” You say, his eyes instantly drawn to your red lips. 

He looks you up and down, walking closer with a look you know very well, and he rests his hands on your hips, leaning closer. “Do we need to go? We can have fun here, dove.”

You look at him, surprised and offended. “Simon! Of course, we do! It's literally your boss!” You remind him. 

He groans, bending to hide his face on your neck, breathing your perfume in before standing back straight, holding your hand in his. “A’ight…”

Simon is overflown with pride when he walks with you hanging from his arm to the table where his team is. The pub is filled with military men, you can feel every single pair of eyes on you, but the massive man who calls you “lovie” and asks for back scratches is next to you, so not even discomfort can get to you. 

The three men sitting down do a really good try to look at you up and down without getting caught, keyword, try. 

Simon introduces you to Johnny, Price and Gaz, guiding you to sit next to the last and him on the other side, shielding you from everyone else. 

Simon leans back, heart beaming with pride when he sees how easy it is for you to steal everyone's attention, the three men looking at you with adoration. 

It is easy to fall into a comfortable conversation, drinks passing by just as easily. His arm behind your back and his hand resting on your hip, his thumb caressing your skin over the thin material of the dress. 

His eyes still locked into your pretty red lips, constantly moving as you talk to them, your pretty smile appearing again and again on your pretty face. 

It's not too late that Price says to call it a night, talking about having to work the next day. He would never admit that he couldn't take it anymore with the way you would constantly look at Simon with hunger in your eyes. 

And Price is nothing if not observant, because the moment Simon and you step inside your flat, you are pushing Simon into his armchair. Kneeling before him as you undo his belt. 

“What are you doing, darling?” He asks, looking at you amused but still surprised with you taking the initiative. 

“Cartwheels, Simon.” You say, finally undoing his pants to free his shaft. “What does it look like I'm doing?”

He chuckles, the laugh turning into a groan when you give a careful kitty lick to his tip, blood rushing south. 

He can't peel his eyes away from your lips, even when he struggles to keep his eyes open. “I bet I can reach up to here.” You say, placing your fingertip at the base of his growing boner. 

He pets your head, smiling to himself. “Whatever you say, dove.” He says, aware of the jaw ache his girthy dick is. But the look of determination on your face is enough to keep him from saying anything. 

And it is not much longer, that you are bobbing your head up and down, easily taking him down your throat. He has his head thrown back, unable to hold it up anymore as he mumbles nonsense, his hand still resting on your head. He has his eyes closed hard, trying to keep himself from coming so fast at the feel of your throat constricting his length. A futile attempt when you run your nails over his wide hips, making him buck them against your mouth, finally spilling deep into your mouth. 

You finally pull back, licking your lips, satisfied with your attack. And with a smile on your face, you point to his softening dick, the imprint of your lipstick down at the base. “I told you I could.”

And when he looks down, his shaft reddish with the stain of your lipstick, but the clear mark down at the base has his groaning, the sight alone almost enough to get him going again. 

Simon was afraid to introduce you to his teammates, but if the dates end up like today… he can't wait to meet them again.

Alternative Ending