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phantomrose96 · 3 years

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Joyrider

(Welcome to another warm-up writing piece. cw for mild body horror)

...

The mall food court doubled rather nicely as a battle-dome.

It fit the bill: a flat and circular arena, crowned two-stories up by a hemisphere of glass windows which lapsed iridescent in the maelstrom of ecto-fire.

Spectator chairs sat empty, hastily shoved back and knocked over by the Amity Park mall patrons who knew to leg it at the first sound of explosions and the first sign of the atmosphere tipping dark. Admittedly, the patron evacuation took longer than Danny anticipated, and he backed himself into a corner playing defense for the 50 some-odd people who, worn-out on the every-day mundanity of ghost alarms, took their time gathering belongings, or shutting off burners, or working in a few last bites of a burger.

So with the crowd gone and the stage their own, Danny found himself pressed back against a vat of french fry oil, hands braced against the handle of a broom he held out horizontally, which the ghost gripped with equal measure and shoved her full weight against.

“Oh, why not take a little dip, Ghost Boy? I hear the water’s nice.”

“No thanks,” Danny answered, shoving harder. “I never was much of a hot tub guy. You on the other hand—”

Danny set a foot forward and pivoted, body fueling the torque as he spun the broom, and tore the ghost with him, a pirouette to swap their spots and jam the ghost back-pressed to the fryer.

“—you seem like you’d like it hot.”

The ghost barked a laugh, jaw stretching lower and loose than Danny was comfortable with.

“Ha! You sure? Not very heroic of you to deep fry this girl I’m possessing.”

Danny faltered. His grip slipped. His blood chilled to ice as the information clicked in place – as he recognized the sensation of a ghost talking through someone. This wasn’t the ghost’s own form. This was some girl. How had he not felt—

A blast took him by the ribs. Danny doubled over, immediately kicked back. A foot found contact with his face, driving him down, until the girl’s wet and slippery fingers pinned him down by the wrists.

Danny strained. He could pivot his wrist a fraction of an inch left or right, but he could not break the hold.

“Get off me!”

And a voice answered from behind him.

“I can help with that.”

Danny craned his neck. Upside down, vantage point from the floor, he registered Sam’s combat boots slam into focus. She bent to one knee, a bazooka locked on the other. It charged, whined, and erupted with an explosion of green light.

The ghost shrieked. It took only an instant of resistance before the ghost tore cleanly from the girl possessed.

“Now if you don’t mind me—” Tucker, by the voice. Danny heard the whine of a Fenton Thermos heating up. “—I’d officially like to change my order from fries to soup.”

The beam burst forth, and the writhing, shrieking, yelping form of the exorcised ghost clawed and scratched in Danny’s direction before the thermos consumed her in full.

“Really? ‘Fries to soup’? Even Danny can do better than that.”

“Hey,” Danny answered.

“I was thinking on my feet, Sam. I didn’t hear any witty quips from you.”

The conversation fell away from Danny’s focus as the full human weight of the possessed girl dropped down on him. Gently, Danny gripped her by the shoulder, lifting her as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

“Your parents’ anti-possession gear is getting good. I don’t think I’ve seen an exorcism work that quickly.” Sam’s voice, now at his side. Danny glanced over, finding her kneeling beside him. “Is she hurt?”

Danny gave the girl a once-over. She was pale, cold, lips seeping blue. A mottled, blackish bruise spread across her temple, partially hidden beneath loose red bangs.

“I don’t… totally know. I didn’t land any hits on her, thankfully. But who knows what that ghost might have done. We should call an ambulance.”

“On it,” Tucker, from behind.

“Do you… do you think the bazooka might have hurt her?” Sam asked.

Danny shook his head. “Mom and Dad have blasted each other with that thing a hundred times. Dad got himself possessed by the box ghost for a trial run. It doesn’t hurt people. …Maybe she just needs a minute.”

“Lay her down, maybe?”

“Good idea.”

Danny eased forward, careful in his movements. Something about his grip slipped, sliding loose and rolling forward, and she fell unceremoniously from his arms, shoulder knocking ground as she lay there partially turned on her side.

“Danny!”

“Sorry! I didn’t—something slipped!”

“Well don’t leave her like—” Sam gripped a hand to the girl’s shoulder, weight behind her wrist to roll the girl fully onto her back. Sam’s hand froze, and then yanked away.

“What?” Danny asked.

“That didn’t feel right.” Sam only stared down, her hand hovering, twitching in increments. “Way too cold… and loose.”

“Loose?”

“Danny, look at her hands. What’s wrong with her hands?”

Danny looked. The skin stretched and wrapped the bones of her fingers as if rotated partway around. Her fingernails sat off-center, twisted around and bunched up like a glove. Sam’s hand came back into view, and she clamped it to the girl’s wrist.

“It’s like jelly. Danny it’s like jelly. Why is she this cold? Danny, I don’t think she’s—”

Something new caught Danny’s eye, a purple discoloration peeking out from the bottom ruffles of the girl’s shirt. His hands seemed to move on their own as he reached down, and pinched the bottom of her shirt, and pulled it back.

Black bruising consumed her torso, caving deep and bloating, pruning around the trails of heavy stitching that ran along the tracks of surgical cuts carving through her abdomen.

Danny yanked his hand away as if burned.

“Danny, she’s not breathing.”

The rest of Danny’s thoughts drowned in the swelling wail of the approaching ambulance siren.

…

Outside the Fenton Portal, green lighting doused the only part of Danny’s form not hidden in shadow, and danced with the fire of his glowing green eyes. Danny uncapped the thermos in his hand, and he trailed his thumb along the eject switch.

A new consuming green light belted forth, lasting only a moment until it vanished with a twin-braided ghost in its wake. The ghost blinked, smoothing over her hair and pulling the ends of her braids over her shoulders.

“Oh, it’s the Ghost Boy again. I thought you’d just throw me back in the Ghost Zone. Are you interested in a round 2?”

“No, not interested,” Danny answered, tone colder than ice.

“Yeesh, you’re quite sour. No more puns?”

“Why were you possessing that girl?”

“Hmm?”

“Why were you possessing her?”

The ghost blinked, green portal light mixing murkily with her purple eyes. “No particular reason. It was just a joyride.”

“A joyr—she was dead.”

Another blink. “Yeah I know. She was sitting in the morgue. She was in like a car crash or something and they already took all her organs. They didn’t need her. And I was gonna give her back, but you had to go and make it a whole thing.” The girl swooped forward, eyes wide and roving over Danny. “You seem mad. Wanna call a truce?” She stuck a hand forward. “I’m Melissa, by the way.”

Danny jolted, eyes flashing brighter. “No, you’re not. That girl was Melissa.”

“Oh for real?” Melissa let out a chuckle. “Crazy coincidence. I like don’t even know that many Melissas. Anyway truce?”

“No.” Danny ran his fingers through his hair. “You were possessing the body of a dead girl and you made me fight her! Don’t you see how that’s—that’s so—how fucked up—that you’d even—”

“Well I mean, I didn’t make you fight me. You made that happen. I was minding my business.”

“Doing what?”

“Shopping. Why else would I take a body for a joyride? I stole some cute clothes to wear. Stole some food to eat. Oh! That outfit I was wearing when we were fighting? Yeah I picked that out. She was in like a hospital gown when I found her. Super cute improvement right?”

An ectoblast sounded and connected with the wall behind Melissa, missing her a foot to the right. Danny’s hand glowed, and his eyes focused with a razor sharpness.

“Stop talking like that, okay? It’s pissing me off. I need you to tell me you know this was fucked up.”

Melissa put a finger to her chin. “I mean I guess stealing is kinda wrong. They were all like, big box corporate stores don’t worry.”

“The. Dead. Body.”

And Melissa fell silent a moment, violet eyes probing deep into Danny’s before widening. “Oh. Oh you’re like for-real mad about that. Like actually. I thought you were like, making an ironic joke.”

“Why the hell would I be joking about this??”

Melissa cocked her head to the side. “Well because you’re doing it too, duh. Like, duh.”

A huff of air cut against Danny’s teeth, an involuntary noise, incredulous, a guffaw he didn’t consciously make. The jelly sensation of decomposing flesh was back under his fingers. “I am not—would never—I’ve never even seen a dead body before this thing with you and I’d never in a million years even think for even a fucking second that I’d want to possess a dead body. What’s wrong with you?!”

Melissa bobbed a little in the air, ends of her braids trailing over the straps of her ephemeral sundress. “See this is why I really can’t tell if you’re joking or not. What are you talking about? You’re doing it right now.” She clasped her hands behind her back. “The black-haired boy whose corpse you’re possessing. Why are you allowed to do it?”

Danny froze. He laughed, heavy, with an uncomfortable force. “Myself, you mean? I’m not possessing myself. I am myself. I’m a half-ghost.”

Melissa met his laugh. “Oh what? No way like, that’s your own corpse? How’d you even get back to it in time? That’s crazy lucky like you must have died right near a portal or something.”

An involuntary shiver traced down Danny’s spine.

“…I’m not dead.” His eyes shifted around, and Danny dropped to the floor. He set a hand against the wall, throwing on the lights to the Fenton basement. Rings swept around his form, green iridescent eyes sweeping blue, white hair seeping black. “Look. Literally look at me. I’m not dead.”

And Melissa swooped closer. She set a finger to her bottom lip and hovered a foot in front of Danny, drinking him in. She swept to the side, like a swimmer in the water, sweeping around him in a full arc. She edged closer and pinched her fingers against the exposed skin on Danny’s arm. He flinched.

“Oh wow there’s like, not even any decay or anything. Your human brain even feels like it’s working it’s all like, electro-magnety. How long were you dead before you got back to your body?”

“I didn’t die.”

“Then what did happen?”

“I got shocked by the Fenton Portal, okay? It was just a lab accident and it gave me powers.”

“Oh. Oh.” Melissa’s eyes shot wide. “Oh you didn’t die near a portal… You died in a portal. You didn’t even have to get back to find your body at all. You must have appeared like practically on top of your own body. That’s crazy lucky. That’s so lucky. Your body was like, probably only dead a microsecond before you hopped back in. No wonder it’s so well-preserved.”

Danny swatted her away. “You’re not listening to me.”

“You’re not listening to me.” Melissa floated backwards. “What do you think is more likely? A bajillion ecto-volts somehow gave you superpowers that exactly mirror everything a regular dead ghost can do? …Or you died, and became a regular old ghost, and did what any regular old ghost can do, which is possess a freshly-dead dead body?”

“…I’m half-ghost,” Danny answered, human heart pounding in his chest. “I know what I am.”

Melissa bobbed back, feet pointed backwards until the soles of her feet skimmed the matrix of the portal. “I see you’ve made up your mind. That’s alright. But it was still pretty mean of you to accuse me like a big hypocrite like that.”

“I’ll destroy you if you ever try that again.”

“Oh I’ll try asking permission next time okay? Promise.” Melissa’s feet sank into the surface of the portal. “But, before I go, I’ve just got one more question to leave you with.”

“Go.”

“Why should a lethal accident do anything other than kill you?”

“Go.”

“Maybe you’ll have an answer for me next time I see you. Byeee!”

A spark of white erupted from the portal, consuming, absorbing, and fizzling out as Melissa’s form vanished into the ether beyond.

…

“Hey! Yo! Danny, come check this out!”

Danny rounded the stairs, unsocked feet creaking the floorboards with each step. Danny yawned, and blinked, and rubbed at his bruised eyes with the sleeve of his pajama top.

“Still asleep? That’s fine! You don’t have to do anything. Just come over here and look at what your old pop’s been up to.”

Danny entered the living room, where Jack sat hunched on the couch surrounded by an arsenal of power tools, rags, oil, soldering equipment, and scrap metal. From beside him he hefted a bazooka into view.

“This is the Fentonzooka 3.2.17. Amped up and equipped with all the latest in ghost-busting and human-saving technology.”

Danny blinked. “3.2.17?”

“Yep. This baby’s got 17 bug patches, tweaks, and internal improvements since the 3.2.0. The 3.2.0 was the advent of the snack compartment in the side. Look!” Jack spun a dial, revealing a chamber half-filled with pistachios.

Danny only stared.

Jack hefted the bazooka onto his shoulder. “Even better, Mads and I finally got rid of the last little sting humans feel when it’s fired. It’s now completely 100% harmless to humans. It feels like the breeze from a standing fan when it hits ya.” Jack turned, and he aimed the barrel at Danny. “Wanna try it out?”

Danny stood, and Danny stared, and Danny said nothing.

What might happen when it hit him?

Would it hit like the gentle breeze of a fan? Wash over him like air conditioning? Tingle cool and pleasant against his human fingers, human face, human skin?

Would it do something else?

Why should a lethal accident do anything other than kill you?

Jack eased the bazooka a bit off center, pulling his eyes away from the sight. He stared directly at Danny. “Danny?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to try it out?”

Danny stood.

Danny stared.

Danny wondered if he’d have an answer for Melissa the next time he saw her.

#danny phantom #dp #dp fanfiction #long post #this idea is actually from uhhhhhh probably like 2 years ago #back when i was still in the midst of not being able to write anything so #stuck this idea in the microwave for this warm up fic

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gofancyninjaworld · 2 years

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Diversifying fanart: my hit list

Thanks to @pomrania for suggesting that I list characters I'd especially love to get drawn.

It was tough whittling them down to just ten, but I'd super love any fanart of these guys, who have gotten (almost) no love.

1. Green

He looks a little bit like Jesus, but his crown of thorns is alive and will scourge you at his behest. We've heard of green fingers, but he's really more green than most. The energy drinks he favours are how he keeps up with the demands of the symbiotic plant that grows within him. He doesn't appear to have a mean bone in his body and comes across as one of the very few characters I'd care to invite for dinner.

2. Wild Horn

We see a lot of incredible heroes out there, but I have a soft spot for this guy who is just ingenious and determined enough to have made his own battle gear out of scraps he got from his construction job.

3. Twin Tail

We're always on Murata's case for forever giving women ever bigger boobs and soft, long, weaselly bodies. Here's this incredible heroine who turns any encounter into street theatre, with an androgynous physique totally lacking in exaggeration. Doesn't she deserve a sketch or two? :)

4. Sourface

Edit: Found he gets a little love: https://kyosaeko.tumblr.com/post/186175467856/from-episode-11-sour-face-it-actually-garou

Still not saying no to more fanart. Evidence? This.

5. Monster Roper Shell

Mr. I-Live-My-Kink-Tastefully himself, Shell has this ever so slightly odd appearance that makes him look like the last person you'd ever challenge to a tickling competition.

6. Narcisstoic

I cannot believe this guy has no fanart. This guy is a total dandy, a delicate, ridiculous-looking fop you'd totally believe a scion of some inbred house of demi-royals. And he fights like the dirtiest street fighter imaginable. He's a total riot!

7. Devil Long Hair

Yes, he has a face that shouldn't speak, but damn, he's hot:

8. Eyelashes

Fubuki's right hand man, he might not stand out very much in his own right, but he's a sensible sort and I really like the way he's always looking out for others.

9. Zakkos

Please! Such style calls for some artistic recognition. This guy is so punk, I can't not love him.

10. Vacuuma/Baquma

Whether as deceptively roly-poly loyal guard old self or as his ruthlessly asset-stripping newer self, I think this guy is everything a good monster should be: intelligent, disturbing, and unashamedly a creature of its appetites. Also: cool.

#OPM #characters I'd love to see fanart of #well I love fanart in general #but these guys seem unloved and they're so interesting #precious fanart

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blitzendoggo · 2 years

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Headcanons and Canon info Mass List

Unlike my Ao3 version of this, every time I get new canon info or a new head canon it will be it's own chapter because I won't be using this as a reference sheet.

~~~

This has to be broken into chunks just so I can keep it organized so lets start with:

Places:

Vontral- the main continent and is flat

Riftreach- New York city but in Egyptian style. Built over the rift and everything goes up because going underground is basically illegal

Gada-Yama- Business hub full of Moritermes (termites) with a temple to the death god directly under the mound

Wainua- city that half in the sea

Abellio- TBA, I'll update this once I rewatch the first episode of s2

Ruins of Inanis- TBA, I'll update this once I rewatch the first episode of s2

Aragdus- TBA, I'll update this once I rewatch the first episode of s2

Franklin- Home of the Franklin castle where the "Frankies" are trained. Frankies are really tough mercenaries

Firetounge Outpost- Thought to be a volcano island, is actually a mindflayer lookout/faciality.

Lotterton- nicknamed Slaughterton. Crime town where our heroes started their journey.

Is- Mining town.

Parian- Where the Victora festival happens and Dramaticus (and other famous fighters) live.

The United Federation of Goblin Territories- read the tin. Its a Goblin society that the governments of the world let exist

Bowenburg- Classic fantasy town. Where Glib's magic school was.

Characters:

Glib

Canon:

Poison Dart Frog Vampire

Acidic skin that only affects fabric

Was turned into a vampire in early twenties is pushing thirty

God of Death, maybe?

Glib as a human was painfully average. Just a generic person

Warlock with a (dead) kraken patron

Name has always been Glib

Has a fear of heights that was developed after crashing the bird with Canyon

His slime has a slight blue tint

Maybe has hollow bones (? Panda said it before immediately saying he was bullshitting that)

Body temp is ice-cold

Anger issuesHE'S THE MOST HANDSOME FROG YOU'VE EVER SEEN (rolled a 23 for hotness)

Hates Skeezvol

Headcanon:

Glib has a caffeine addiction, so he drinks blood coffee (coffee made with blood instead of water)

Glib can't touch fabric, so his blankets/bedding are made from furs

When Glib was human, he would run his fingers through his hair as a nervous tick, and its one of the few things he misses about being human (with the others being that he wants pants and to be tall again).

Adopted by a fairly rich Grung family when he was born, which is why they called him Glib.

Grew up in a mansion in the woods

Is always the last one to wake up

Has Gambit-style Cards

Canyon

Canon:

Full name is Mystery of the Canyon

Very Blunt and violent

Is infused with chaos magic

Headcanon:

Sheds constantly

Covers his mouth when he laughs because he used to self-conscious of his sharp teeth.

Puts up a constantly relaxed front, but is much more aware than he acts (hence high intelligence)

Is a decent cook, but will shed in the food

Is not allowed to have caffeine because after being given one cup of mild coffee he had zoomies so bad that Callisto had to "sedate" him with magic

S.G.

Canon:

Genderless-Changeling (with pearlescent white skin) from a village with an unusually high number of psychics (which includes themself)

Master gaslighter

Is allergic to lemonlimes (which is a fruit that grows in Vontral)

Does not have facial features/looks like a mannequin

Massive crush on Captain Mercury

Has a godcomplex

Has a salt lamp Genie named Djarrid

Kermit just lives in their armor

Was homeschooled

Crime background that takes place in Is

Thinks Skeezvol is a 14/20 (possibly because of crown?)

Thinks Human Glib is very average

Is a 7/20 because of no features

Is the God of Wealth now

Considers Glib as her best friend

Headcanon:

She cannot cook to cave her life.

Like nearly burnt down the kitchen trying to boil water levels of bad

Doesn't like coffee and will only drink super sweet teas

Has the best bed, no matter where they go

Mr. Goodbid

Canon:

Half-elf hitman

Has a glorious mustache

Works in contracts

Hates kids

Drinks whiskey

He always smiles (but when he's angry/scared it's thousand-yard stare style)

Loves Pirates and Business

Doesn't actually like bug people, just their city

Has daddy issues (Naethan why?)

His constant smile comes from Dramaticus' persona

Has never missed a Victora festival

Wears contacts

Has a negative 1 to constitution

10/20

Very selfless

God of law

Suit is white with a green tie

ACAB Goodbid

Headcanon:

Full name is Johnny B. Goodbid

Has a massive family and is the oldest of six

His siblings are Garry, Ein, Thomas (who married Linx and has an adopted little girl named Ruth), William, and Mellany

Is an amazing cook and does all the cooking for the team

He owns Capri Suns as a money laundering front that became its own business because it was just that good.

Goodbid either drinks black coffee or sweet-iced tea, no in between

Is traumatized from being attacked by the ghost under Riftreach so it terrified of ghouls

Almost went to train at Franklin Castle, but decided against it

Skeezvol XIX

Canon

An old man, 4'7", human, blind (no eyes), long beard, frail-looking, barbarian

Immortal but will be killed by a mistake made by a frog man

He sees through tremor sense

Is a nat 1

Headcanon:

Lost his eyes while teleporting around, but because he's immortal the surgery didn't kill him

Zalkas

Canon:

6'7" Acid-Dragonborn paladin

From the Order dimension

Has two kids (at least one daughter named Leviathan) who play soccer

Was a commander in the Order Army

Its on-sight when he sees S.G.

Is ridiculous strong

Owns a tavern after accidentally killing the pervious owner

Has a trident and sickles as weapons

Wants to be friends with Glib

Speaks infernal

Scared of bugs (denies it)

Horrible at lying and is very blunt.

Headcanon:

Unofficially adopts Rolf once they return to the tavern

Misses his kids and wife, but does not want to return to the Order Realm

Is completely Asexual and Panromantic but does not understand the difference between romantic and platonic attraction.

Prophis

Canon:

Is an elf chaos God

Is Bisexual

Has a dead(?) sister

dating Callisto (1/2 of Eldritch Gays)

Is a natural 20/20, this man is so hot

Headcanon:

Mom friend

Loves kids

Will shut down Callisto if he starts throwing a tantrum

Loves to sing

Is a morning person

Loves making flower crowns because he and his sister used to make them together when they were young

Palnaros

Canon:

Moves like a marionette

Upside down head

Centipede body

You know your nightmares? Yeah its just that

Headcanon:

Voice is unnaturally high and disjointed

Would hold onto vowels for longer than he should when speaking

When moving he would make a creaking/cracking rubbery sound like stretching dried out leather over old wood and twisting both.

Callisto

Canon:

A very powerful sorcerer

Dating Prophis (other half of Eldritch Gays)

Is also very hot

Is Gay, but respects women

Headcanon:

Is not a morning person in the least

Only likes Prophis' singing

Used to love kids but now tolerates them (they reminded him too much of Prophis for the millennia that they were separated)

Simps for Prophis so much. Like he is a prideful man, but if Prophis told him to bark, he would not hesitate.

Bello

Canon:

Three-foot tall Chaos Butterfly from Not-Here, Chaos Dimension

uses he/they

Eats(?) stars

Wants to find flowers, doesn't know what flowers are

Wings are made up of shifting change-glass

Is kind of oblivious

Speaks Celestial

Likes riding on people's shoulders/head

Slightly illiterate

Headcanon:

Wings have an ever-shifting heat to them that moves with the changing colors

Blob

Canon:

Glib's familiar

Vampire-bat squid

Was sarcastic, is now traumatized

Has a slight stutter that gets worse when he's anxious

Love language is physical touch

Appears out of a puddle that forms under/near Glib with a splash

Headcanon:

Is so traumatized by the kraken's death that he won't leave Glib and when they sleep, he lays on Glib's chest

Doesn't actually leave Glib, too afraid that something will happen to them.

Dramaticus

Canon:

Little Wooden-Puppet Man

Barbarian fighter that lives in Parian

Is a very famous celebrity

It the God of Light

Is afraid of fire

Headcanon:

Was called Pinocchio until he started performing

Aldor

Canon:

God of knowledge

Is dead

Was a stick in the mud

Looked like a really young 80-year-old

Headcanon:

AroAce

Not completely emotionless, but damn close

Reylias

Canon:

Air Genasi

Was the leader of chaos faction

Is the god of monsters

Killed the Kraken

Sociopathichas a chaos sword that can become a whip

Headcanon:

Was raised by Prophis and Callisto but once Prophis was put away in the portal, Callisto couldn't handle raising Reylias by himself so he put him into an ageless sleep until the factions split and Callisto woke him up, changed his memories, and made him the leader of the chaos faction so he could find his dad again

Rolf

Canon:

5'7", skinny, ginger, dark eyed Paladin

Techincally the smartest PC in game

Wannabe Cult Leader

Is 16

Is a shut in

Terrified of bugs

Headcanon:

Gets adopted by Zalkas

Has a single mom and has never had a father-figure

Lady Katarina the (Formerly) Wicked

Canon:

Snow-owlen, beady-red eyes, 3'6", and wears a blood-red cloak

Was an evil lady, had a crisis, and is trying to be better

Is feared by almost everyone

Worked with Mindflayers and thinks they are super sweet and fun/easy to work with

Headcanon:

Loves animals and would never hurt them

Kyland

Canon:

Prophis' dead sister

Died of a sickness

Psychic

Is brought back to life?

She has her memories from before she died.

Headcanon:

She's younger by Prophis, but not by much and Prophis used to braid flowers into her hair when she was upset

Djarrid

Canon:

Pink salt-lamp genie

Vaguely Russian

Licking the crystal results in a chaos affect happening

Doesn't remember his "real" name

Headcanon:

Is afraid of Prophis because he saw him as Palnaros too much

Doc

Canon:

They/Them

Rambles a lot

Has a lizard

Is from the future

Saved S.G. when they were younger

Headcanon:

Is on the Spectrum and is hyperfixated on the dimensions/time travel

Captain Mercury

Canon:

Hot merman

Is the God of the Air

Has a sentient ship named Sky Skimmer

Himbo

Walks by using wooden legs

26-years-old

Headcanon:

Is Gay, therefore doesn't realize that S.G. is flirting with him because he thinks that she knows

Has a slight crush on Goodbid, but is too much of a himbo to realize that its a crush and not just ''extreme friendship"

Barium

Canon:

Gold warforged from Is

Goes by Barry

God of metal

Was stuck as a statue for maybe 700 years?

Headcanon:

While in the statue, he spent his time by singing work songs

Friday

Canon:

White horse with a green mane

God of Fate

BIG GIRL (could fit four people on her back easily)

Headcanon:

She considers Goodbid and SG to be her parents, and that why she wasn't made at them.

Extra Information:

Canon:

Inside Goodbid's briefcase is the main set of the office and it smells like shoe polish and mustache cream

Vontral is flat

There is a star invasion maybe going on?

The Earth Dimension is inhabited by Shadar-Kai (Shadow Fay) and were rule by Skeezvol

Headcanon:

I refer to Goodbid, Glib, Canyon, and S.G. as Team Chaos

Team Chaos is a queer-platonic Polycule. They do not know that they are a queer-platonic polycule and think that every friendship is like this.

Goodbid's briefcase has doors, but all the hallways lead back to the save room.

#d&dorks #pandaredd #sir_superhero #momoiscariot #nikhilclayton #naethan apollo #glib #Mr. Goodbid #s.g. iguess #headcanon #headcanon list #there will be more updates as seperate posts

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andypantsx3 · 4 years

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say the word and you know i’ll follow

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

status: complete

length: 3,262 words

summary: While moving in with Shouto, you get caught up reliving the scene of his confession. Quite literally.

(A smutty oneshot sequel to my fic if i could keep cool.)

tags: romance, reader-insert, fluff, smut

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, cunnilingus, light bondage

notes: Also cross-posted on my AO3! The manga really has me all in my Todo feels rn but I don't wanna write a whole other fic before I finish the Hawks one, so please have this fluffy smutty one shot as a compromise. It likely won’t make sense unless you’ve read if i could keep cool first, so please check it out if you have the time!

It was sweltering when you stepped outside to make your way to Shouto’s apartment.

A thin film of sweat immediately began to build wherever your skin pressed against the box you carried, and the sun beat down furiously on the crown of your head. You instantly started to second guess your choice to take the train, wondering how dumb of a move it had been to decline an alternative means of transit. It was going to be like being packed into a sardine can and roasted over a hot stove.

Shouto had offered to send an agency car, but there were only so many more times you were going to make the trip from your crumbling student apartment to his place, and you had wanted to make the most of it. You didn’t even really need to bring boxes over just yet--as Shouto had hired a moving company to take care of everything next week--but you didn’t want to lose anything that was inside this one. This one held all your most treasured items--keepsakes from your friends, a pressed white tulip, and all the gifts Shouto had ever given you (minus, of course, the vegetables).

Steeling yourself for an uncomfortable twenty minutes, you set off towards the station, weaving through the tired crowds of people who looked just as sun-weary as you. Thankfully, with a hat over your face and a box you could shift to obscure your features, very few people seemed to recognize you as you did so.

A lot of the media attention surrounding your mishap a year ago had died down, and you had been good about keeping your relationship mostly private, so you weren’t exactly a household name to most people. But there were enough twitter-savvy teens and meme-literate college students that you were sometimes recognized as you went about your daily life.

This time, you were only eyed curiously by one pair of teenage girls as they bundled into the train car across from you, but they didn’t say anything to you, didn’t ask you to reenact the most embarrassing five seconds of your entire life into their phones, as many often did. The box hid you from the rest of the train car, and no one else seemed to take interest in your presence.

After exiting the train at downtown, you made it to Shouto’s building in record time, all but rocket-fueled by your desire to get out of the hot sun. The security team in the lobby of his building gave you friendly nods as you passed, one of them graciously pressing the button for the elevator so you didn’t have to fumble around your box.

You thanked her, making your way into the elevator and elbowing the button for Shouto’s floor. The elevator was even cooler than the lobby, and you shivered in delight as the frigid chill of air conditioning washed over you. God, this building was so fucking nice compared to yours. You were going to be spoiled as fuck once you lived here.

You made it to Shouto’s floor without incident, though digging in your bag for your keys was impossible at the moment, so you knocked on his door as firmly as you could manage with the box still balanced in your arms.

There were a few seconds of silence. Then, the door swung open and Shouto stood there, grinning at you.

His hair still looked a little damp from a recent shower, and he was wearing a dark button up over a soft tee shirt and a pair of dark jeans. He looked unbearably good, as boyishly handsome as ever, and your heart gave an embarrassing little stutter, like it always did whenever you saw him. You suspected it was always going to be like that, no matter how long the two of you had been dating.

Shouto’s eyebrows went up as he considered the box in your arms. That heterochromatic gaze picked over you curiously, expression going carefully blank, like it typically did when he was up to some mischief. And then, after a long moment, he spoke.

“You’re not wearing the scarf,” he said, sounding upset.

You stared up at him, feeling your brow wrinkle. The scarf? It was fucking summer, and the scarf was neatly tucked away in the box you were holding. It was literally boiling hot just outside the well-air conditioned hallways of his building. Why on earth did he think you would be wearing--

You inhaled a little sharply when the answer hit you.

The scarf.

The scarf was the first thing he had mentioned the day he had finally confessed to you. Well, after you had confessed first, really, on national television earlier that week, that you were thirsty as hell for him and were also really bad at picking up subtle clues. Or overt clues. Or any clues, honestly.

But now you were standing in his hallway with a box again, and he was clearly remembering what had happened the last time you had done so.

You wracked your brain for what you had said to him in reply that day, trying to hone in on the words past the sudden swell of embarrassment.

“Uh, it’s in here,” you finally replied, gesturing to the box.

That grey and blue gaze dropped to the parcel in your arms, then flickered up to your face. You pushed the box at him, the way you had the day he’d confessed, feeling just as squirmish as you had then.

What else had you said to him? Something very watery and over dramatic, likely. Something like...

“It’s all, um, there--if you wanted to check,” you said. “Except for the vegetables obviously. But I can pay you back, if you give me a couple months.”

Shouto was clearly suppressing a smirk as he feigned curiosity. “Pay me….what?”

You suppressed your own absurd laugh, wondering how far down mortifying memory lane he wanted to go.

“I also wrote down a recommendation for a new cleaning lady, if you want,” you said, patting the top of the box. “It’s in there. Her name’s Mika, she’s super nice. And I can message you or your manager when I have the money. Just let me know which one you’d prefer. Or I can have Mika drop it off.”

Shouto gripped the box, then, long, elegant fingers pulling back the flaps for him to peer inside. He looked absolutely delighted to find the scarf actually within. In one fluid movement, he pulled the scarf out, depositing the box behind him, and turned back to grab your sleeve, pulling you quickly into the apartment with him.

“Okay, what are you doing with the scarf this time?” you laughed, breaking character.

One white eyebrow went up as Shouto gripped your wrist firmly, eyeing you closely as he pulled off your baseball cap.

“Mm,” he hummed absently in his deep tone. “Something I should have done the first time.” He caught your other wrist, pressing it into the sinfully soft fabric of your favorite accessory.

You looked at him, bewildered, feeling your mouth twist into a slight frown. You rather liked the way things had gone the first time around, considering that you had ended up with a boyfriend at the end of it all. What was his bone to pick with the first time around?

“Uh, if I’m recalling correctly, the first time went great,” you said to him. “Like, really really great. Christening your countertops several different times great.”

There was a flash of white teeth as Shouto grinned.

“Ah, but I missed an opportunity,” he said. A soft sensation slid over your other wrist, and you looked down in confusion.

Then it hit you what he was up to, and your face instantly went up in flames.

A firm tug had your wrists knotted together, and Shouto smirked down at you, tugging you closer by the silky fabric of your scarf. Your stomach swooped at the intent look in his eye.

“I had been upset you weren’t wearing the scarf,” he said. “But there was an easy way to fix that.”

You swallowed heavily, your tongue feeling strangely thick. Your brain was suddenly, but predictably, very very empty.

“Y-yeah. But technically you, um. You did fix it,” you babbled helplessly, limbs growing shivery with static as Shouto pressed closer. He was so warm, and he was so stupidly handsome.

“I’ve, uh, worn it a lot since,” you managed.

Shouto considered you quietly, a familiar, wry little smile pressing at the corner of his mouth.

Before you’d started dating, you’d been confused as hell by that expression, suspecting it meant he was bewildered by your very existence but was too polite to say so. After just over a year together, however, you had learned that was just what his face did when he thought you were being unreasonably appealing. Which, mystifyingly, was mostly when the working part of your brain disconnected from your mouth.

You scrounged around for other coherent words, thoughts thick and sluggish, like you were thinking through pudding.

Shouto, however, was merciful, putting an end to your suffering by leaning down and taking your mouth with his.

All the coherent thought you’d managed to dredge up melted away like frost under the morning sun. You pressed yourself closer to him, leaning up to give him better access to your mouth. Shouto kissed you as stupid as he always did before a hot hand came up to cup your face, thumb sliding over your cheek affectionately.

“It seems I’ve got you in the scarf as I had wanted,” Shouto said quietly, once he let you up for air. “But now I find that the scarf is all I want you in.”

You opened your mouth to respond, though what you might have said was as much a mystery to you as anyone. But all that managed to come out was a choked, breathy little noise.

Shouto laughed.

Then there were large hands on your waist, and the next thing you knew, you were staring down at the wood paneling of Shouto’s floor as it moved underneath you. Shouto adjusted you over his shoulder briefly, and then he was charting a brisk course to his bedroom, depositing you like an errant pillow back onto his sheets.

Your cheeks burned as he crawled over you, gaze hot and searching.

“Are you alright, love?” he asked.

You nodded vehemently, eyes pulled to the little flat sliver of his abs where his shirt had ridden up.

“Good, yeah, I’m so good,” you managed to garble out. You were going to be so embarrassed about this later, but as usual when it came to him, you really couldn’t help it. If you’d learned anything in the year you’d been together, it was that you would always have the world’s fattest crush on Shouto Todoroki.

Strong fingers came up to grasp your chin, tipping your face up for another searing kiss. You managed to loop your bound arms over the back of Shouto’s neck, tangling your fingers in his soft hair and pulling him down to you more firmly.

Shouto flattened himself against you, so that you could feel every strong plane of his body, every hard muscle. You shuddered, and you could feel Shouto smirk against your mouth.

“Like that, do you?” he asked, hands pulling at your shirt. You wiggled so that he could pull it out from under you, sliding it up to rest just below the scarf. In the next second he’d also gotten you out of your pants, so that you were mostly bare to him in the cool apartment air.

Shouto looked you over for a moment, looking like he still couldn’t believe you existed. “Having you over the countertops was something that I wouldn’t change. Something that I won’t change, once you move in.”

Your face went hot and you squirmed underneath him.

“However,” he said softly, “I believe I would have liked to have been more deliberate with you. Taken my time with you,” he paused. “Perhaps...I might have made you come once for every photo of me on your twitter.”

The tips of your ears went hot. Jesus Christ, he couldn’t be serious.

You had deleted that twitter over a year ago, and though he’d apparently been allowed access to the contents by his manager (rude) there was absolutely no way he could remember how many pictures of him you’d retweeted. You’d been the one doing the retweeting, and even you didn’t remember, though you thought the number was probably embarrassingly high.

“There was like, one,” you squeaked out.

Shouto’s smile went dark and he leaned over you, his perfect, infuriating mouth so close he might have kissed you again.

“Thirteen,” he said, mouth brushing yours as he spoke. “There were thirteen photos of me on your twitter. All while you tried so hard to act like you didn’t want me, that you wanted to be just friends.”

“Hey, you said you wanted to be my friend,” you protested. You jerked when his hand slid up your side to cup a breast, thumb slipping under the band of your bra.

“You weren’t accepting my gifts,” he said, fingers grazing your nipple. You bit down on an embarrassing noise, letting out a sharp breath. “How else was I to make you take them?”

You opened your mouth to respond but Shouto made another pass over your nipple, and a moan escaped you instead.

“That’s right, love,” he said encouragingly. “Now I’m going to make you give me something in return. Thirteen somethings, in fact.”

He peeled down the cup of your bra, fastening his hot mouth over your breast. You whined, twitching when he flattened his tongue, dragging it slowly over the point of your nipple. A strong arm came up to press your hands down over your head.

“Shouto, thirteen is insane,” you panted.

He paid you no mind, instead swirling his tongue in a way that made your vision blur.

A tugging at your wrists made you look up, in time to see Shouto one-handedly looping the long end of the scarf through the slats on his headboard and pulling tight. Your whole body clenched up at the implication.

The slide of fabric over your breasts told you that Shouto had also managed to get your bra up, and hot mouth closed over your other nipple, long fingers carefully plucking at the other. “We have all weekend, love. Thirteen is ambitious but quite possible.”

You made a weak noise of acknowledgement, hips shifting forward against his stomach.

Shouto laughed, hot breath ghosting over your breast, and then he was crawling down your torso, hands grasping your underwear. He pulled it down slowly, torturously, until he managed to get it off you, then pulled your knee over his shoulder.

You whimpered, feeling like you might actually pass out from how hot he looked, one thigh thrown carelessly over his shoulder, gaze intent, staring down at you like a starving man looking at a hot meal.

You squirmed, trying to pull your arms down to get your hands on him, but the scarf held fast, pulling more firmly over your wrists.

“Shouto, please,” you said, though whether you were begging for him to touch you or to let you go, even you didn’t know.

Shouto seemed to take it as permission. Those two-toned eyes passed over you hotly, and then he was leaning down, biting down gently on the inside of your thigh. You jerked violently, but he held you in place, mouth trailing slowly, slowly down to where you wanted him.

You thought you might actually black out before he got where he was going.

“I can’t believe I ever told you you were unwelcome in my apartment,” he murmured, sucking a slow bruise into the skin at the crease of your thigh. “Once you move in, I’m never going to let you leave it.”

“Oh my god,” you said.

Shouto’s tongue flicked out, catching the edge of your sex, and you tried not to choke on air.

Then, finally, he moved, fastening his mouth over you, exactly where you wanted him. All reason completely left you.

After that, everything was an unbearable flurry of feeling--a soft tongue swirling over you, the tickle of his bangs on your stomach, the press of broad shoulders between your knees. There was the rasp of his sheets between your shoulder blades, the slow, deliberate press of two fingers inside of you, a firm grip on your thigh, fingers digging in tightly.

You could feel every point of connection with him, every minute movement of his mouth over you, and the sensation built up into something so horribly, terribly good. You were unable to do anything but writhe and pant underneath him, babbling something that sounded like it might be an approximation of his name.

Shouto hummed and sucked softly, those long fingers curling inside you. He finally hit a spot that made you see stars, and you practically lifted off the bed, back bowing. Shouto licked you through it, tongue curling expertly around your clit while you sobbed out his name, only slowing when your body went slack, collapsing back into his sheets.

When you could see straight once more, you realized he was staring up at you, that wry smile curling the corner of his mouth again.

You fought down a blush, feeling an embarrassed grin pull at the corner of your own mouth.

“You’re unreal,” you said. “I can’t believe I’m going to get to have you all the time.”

Shouto pressed a short kiss to the skin of your hip. “You already have me all the time.”

You flapped a hand in its bindings. “You know what I mean. I can’t believe we’re going to live together.”

His fingers slid gently over the back of your thigh. “I’d have had you in here sooner, if you hadn’t insisted on graduating first.”

You laughed. He was always so very straightforward about whatever he wanted.

He had been making very unsubtle noises about living together only a few months into your relationship, but you’d insisted that you wait at least a year. He’d grown up with more conservative mores, having been raised a rich boy, and taking things quickly once he knew he was serious about you seemed to be the style of things. But you, despite your frankly unreasonable thirst for your own boyfriend, knew the value of taking things just a little bit slower.

So you’d waited a year, just to be prudent, though you’d known all along how things would end up.

And now he finally had his way.

“I’m all yours now,” you promised, laughing. “Soon you’ll be sick of me hogging the bed, and leaving books everywhere, and getting so blackout at the farmer’s market that we don’t have room for all the vegetables.”

“Ah, you’re using me for vegetable access,” he accused, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the smile he was attempting to smother into your thigh.

“A girl’s gotta have her priorities,” you grinned.

Something lit up in Shouto’s gaze again, and he shifted up against your thigh to lean over you more fully. His fingers gripped the back of your knee tightly.

“I'll make you pay for that,” he promised darkly. “Twelve more times.”

You shivered as he took your mouth again, fingers sliding back between your thighs with obvious intent.

And then you really did. You paid for it.

Twelve more times.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #shouto todoroki #bnha fanfic #bnha #smut #fluff #bnha x reader

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shadyteacup · 3 years

Text

The Princess' Request

A continuation to Daggers and Swords n Assassin's Desire

Inspired by this @bsdparadise @kiyokoxd ♡

Yall can read that or just go through these pics to know what's going on:

.... now, onto the rest....

"Let's make a deal."

Chuuya raises an eyebrow, moving out of your grasp on her chin. She wasn't going to fuck up this time. She had to get the job done.

"Oh? And what is on that pretty mind of yours?"

You blinked at her compliment, tilting your head slightly. Bangs of your hair shifted to fall elegantly on your face, framing your beautiful looks.

'Damn', Chuuya thought, 'the crown princess is so fine.'

"Is it just me or did you actually say something nice?"

Chuuya immediately fisted her palms. The princess might be super attractive, but she's also a major bitch.

"Tch. Just tell me what you're on about."

You smiled coyly, reaching forward to grab Chuuya's hips firmly. Chuuya gulped at the contact, trying to push you away, but you held onto her, leaning closer to her flushed face.

You gazed at her pink lips, licking your own in anticipation. Leaning closer to her ear, you breathed out your request.

Chuuya gasped.

"You.. why?!"

You pecked her lips.

"Shh. Keep your voice down."

Chuuya couldn't believe what you'd just said. Did you actually want to leave everything behind?!

"But you're the crown princess!"

Chuuya whispered hurriedly.

Shrugging, you wrapped your arms around her shoulders.

"So? Can't the princess want to break free?"

Chuuya was dumbfounded.

"But-"

In a flash, you pinned Chuuya to the pillar behind her.

Pulling out your dagger, you held it to her throat.

"Do you have the guts? Or should I gut you right here, hmm?"

Chuuya gasped softly. It was either abide by your absurd request, or die here. Dying wasn't an option. She still had a lot to do in life.

"I'll do it! Okay! Calm down, jeez."

Chuuya had to admit that you looked scary in the moonlight. Scary but sexy.

You hummed, satisfied with her answer.

"Good choice."

You smirked, tracing the cool tip of the blade over Chuuyas exposed collar bones.

"There's so much I want to do to you before I kill you."

Chuuya sucked in a breath at the feeling. You always brought about such crazy emotions in her. The last time she was here, you had held her captive on your bed and... deliciously tortured her. She had escaped afterwards, but she couldn't help but want to relive those moments. Her hands handcuffed to the headboard, your skilled fingers on her hot and flustered body, drawing out moans almost effortlessly.

"Did you like being ruined by me so much?"

Your silky voice broke her out of her daydream.

"Wh-what?"

You grinned.

"I know that face, doll. You're thinking back to the time I had you screaming my name-"

"Stop! Ew just, stop!"

Chuuya covered her ears, pretending to be annoyed.

Chuckling, you grabbed her neck, pulling her in for a gentle yet passionate kiss that knocked the breath out of Chuuya.

Pulling away, you smirked at the way her cheeks were flushed and breath was heavy.

"I have such an effect on you. I love it."

Kissing her temple, you caressed her cheek with your finger. Chuuya's eyes fluttered closed at the feeling. She felt your fingers pull back, but the tingling feeling remained. When she opened her eyes, you had vanished. Only a note could be seen on the bench.

Opening it, Chuuya read, "Tomorrow, 6pm"

Sighing, she pocketed the piece of paper. Tomorrow, at 6, she was to kill the King.

Tagging:

@anarchy-black-cat @707xn @evalynanne @b-i-t-t-i-e-s @kuraxmasha @syynnaaah @roserosie05 @mikasa-stan-account @alittlesimp @greenshirtimagines @paradise-creator @kiyokoxd @ranposlover @the-foreigner @sakikoshi@h3xa413a @sukunas-cult-leader @ilOvedaydreaming @del1111 @craftypeachmoneyhound @notquitehereorthere @mikasa-stan-account @kenmasbbygrl @alphaofdarkness @duhsies @cees-sims @the-foreigner @uglapuglamuglafugla @sugarandsoft @jadegreenimmortality @flanelsantito @shiny84244 @one-hell-of-otaku-is-here@missrown @requiem626k @sukunas-cult-leader @ilovedaydreaming @roserosie05 @mikasa-stan

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randomingoftherandomness · 3 years

Text

What I am hoping for from Winner is King ( 烽火流金)

Okay, so at this point, let’s just be reals here, Word of Honor has kinda set the bar for me in terms of standards to expect from the slew of danmei adaptations this year. Granted, I know that there are some who think the way it was adapted was not up to their standards and that it could have been done better, please don’t bring it on this post because this is not the post for it.

In this post, I’m going to talk about Winner is King (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑

Now, Sha Po Lang, the original novel, is for me one of the best things that I have read in a very long while. As such, I can be rather precious about what I am hoping to see come alive on the show and what I am hoping will be present in the portrayals I see. I know there are some concerns regarding the script and behind the scenes stuff - and they are very valid concerns that I feel too! - and with the recent announcement that instead of 45 episodes, we are only getting 40, I can foresee that there could be some rushed handlings of the very plotty nature of the source material and perhaps a sense that style can trump substance.

But as the actual show isn’t beaming right into our eyeballs just yet, here are some things I am looking forward to seeing in Winner is King and some things that I am crossing my fingers will make the final cut!

Warning for some novel spoilers ahead. I’ll keep it under the read more.

Tagging @zhongwans because I said I would haha...

Things I am looking forward to:

The Changgu dynamic. I think it goes without saying that if the chemistry between your leads is a dud, the show doesn’t need to even pass Go, it can just shuffle itself off the board because it will be dead in the water. The Changgu dynamic has to be nailed; I need to see that self-doubt, that caring for the other but coming at it from the wrong way, that awkwardness that comes with trying to hold back the burden of your love and care because you don’t want to overwhelm the other...

I need Gu Yun to be shamelessly sweet with his words and his coaxing of his Yan Wang from a sulk. I need Changgu saying “I hate you to death, Gu Yun” (pining)

Hu Ge Er. Let me just be clear here, I will cheer when she dies, but I hope that how they handle her characterisation will do her justice. There is no excusing the level of horrible that she is, but I hope that she isn’t written as a single dimension abusive piece of shit. Nuance, is what I am looking for. I need her to be the villain and the reason for Chang Geng.

I. NEED. THE. WOLF. ATTACK. SCENE. OUTSIDE. OF. YANHUI. TOWN. aka The First Time They Meet

There is legit no excuse for them to fuck this up, but the Steampunk elements. I would not know what else to say if they fuck this one thing up that is so integral and basic to the love of this IP. They cannot fuck this up. I am very sure I will join people in rioting if they do.

I need to see my Red Kites, my Heavy and Light Armours, my Dragons... I need to see the steam powered lamps, the iron puppets... I need them to get the Wind Slashers right. I need them to get this world-building right ok? I need to be dropped into this show and just swoon over just how accurate to imagination everything looks. Tencent does have the blessed ability to make very good looking productions, so on this note, I am assured.

I need them to get the human element right; I need to understand why Gu Yun is the way he is, I need to know why the members of the Lin Yuan Pavillion will back Chang Geng and why they won’t. I need to know why Liao Chi would betray the Emperor. I need them to make me feel; I want them to make my heart hurt when Chang Geng’s heart is hurting, I want them to make me cry when Gu Yun is at his lowest and feels like he can’t go on. I want them to make me laugh, I want to feel for Shen Yi and Miss Chen’s awkward courting.

On that note, I hope they get the Shen Yi and Gu Yun dynamic right too! These two are bros ok? Life and death, ride or die, best bros forever and I need, need them to nail just how integral these are to each other and how much they chose each other as family. I need the bickering, I need the protectiveness, I need the banter.

I also need Chang Geng conspiring to marry Shen Yi off quickly so that he can have Gu Yun all to himself lol but lbr here if we can get an ending for this show from Tencent that even breathes the same atmosphere of air as satisfactory I will praise the heavens

The Bone of Impurity. I don’t know to what extent they will cover this or if they would do it the way the book does it, but this being an element that is integral to Chang Geng, I would be surprised if they dropped it entirely. So yeah, I am looking forward to seeing Chang Geng fretting and worrying and getting Bone of Impurity attacks.

Just the way that Gu Yun allows himself to be cared for my Chang Geng and how Chang Geng lets Gu Yun care for him

I want one acupuncture hedgehog scene please and thank you

I do want to see how they handle Chang Geng and his elder half-brother; how that dynamic unfolds will be something to pay some attention to, I think

Oh! That moment when Chang Geng kneels down in front of his brother and tells him to please bury any talk of his marriage and revealing to his brother the scars that he carries from his time living under Hu Ge Er’s roof (this is one brand of Whump that I promise you will hurt you very badly and it will be very good)

The argument at Jiangnan is something I really think will also make the final cut. It wouldn’t make sense to drop it seeing as this is a pivotal shift in their relationship where Chang Geng is finally holding his ground and not bending over backwards and believing everything his Yi Fu says. And this was the catalyst for their four year separation so yeah. I hope they do this justice.

I am not a betting person, but I high key bet that the scene between Gu Yun and the previous Emperor where he tells the man, “If you go, then I won’t have anyone left” and this being the moment that softens the dying fucker’s heart enough to give him a bracelet of beads that will be a major plot point towards the end

THE. BATTLE. SCENES.

Things I am hoping will happen:

At this point, speculation is that the point that tripped Winner Is King up for a recheck was the politics. This year is the 100th anniversary of the founding of the Communist Party in China and rumour has it that shit be sieving thick and so a lot of shows are erring on the side of caution.

Politics is the highest likelihood of a recheck but I am hoping that it won’t be dumbed down or watered down too much because the politics and the way things played out in the book was absolutely divine and I really want to see that court intrigue and scheming and interplay unfold.

I’ve mentioned in my most recent podcast episode that I am banking on this show to scratch my itch for a Nirvana in Fire level of plottiness and infinite craftiness of the characters and I am crossing all fingers and toes for that to happen because All! The! Characters! Hold! Their! Own! And I need to see that play out please I am not asking for much...

The final sea battle with the Pope. I wouldn’t even know where they would even begin to shoot that scene but this is something I would love to see happen.

The Bone of Impurity attack after Gu Yun sneakily left the capital. That was the scene that caught me and hooked, lined and sinkered me for Chang Geng as a character. Listening to this scene be brought to life in the audio drama has really hammered it home that if they make this bit into the show, I will watch and weep if it is done right.

Cao Niangzi being Cao Niangzi. I am thinking it might not happen the way I want, but I just need them to get them right.

Ge Chen peeing on the enemy’s face. Please. I laughed so hard. I need this. It will be a balm to my soul.

Please, I need Gu Yun’s soul crushing flute playing like I need Gong Jun to always be absolutely horrible at singing because baby this is your niche and this is your charm own it work it

I also need Gu Yun stealing a bamboo flute from a 10 year old because he got jealous please and thank you

Any flashback of Chang Geng and Hu Ge Er before Yanhui Town

I want to see that moment that Gu Yun hears first hand from someone who had knowledge of what Hu Ge Er would do to a baby Chang Geng and the horrible abuse she inflicted on him, because up to that point, he only knew that something went on, but never to the extent that revelation wrought unto him

Any of the Bone of Impurity moments; any mention of it, any visual representation of it... Gosh, just the idea of having the Bone of Impurity made visual is just... Ugh. Yes. Please. The suffering.

[bonus] Things I wish will happen but will probably not:

The hot spring scene or a version of it

An implication that baby cannibalism was involved in the making of a Bone of Impurity

The scene where they get to the goddess doll (the description of it in the book was so bone chilling and if they do this I will have nightmares, I’m just warning you)

I really, really want a scene where, after being crowned Emperor, Chang Geng goes to the frontlines to reclaim the South and upon hearing that he was there, Gu Yun immediately panicked like he was about to be caught with his pants down doing something illegal when all he did was ordered his subordinates to keep news of his injuries from being reported back to the capital

Any flashback of Chang Geng and Hu Ge Er before Yanhui Town; especially when they were with the Barbarians

I want to see some version of Hu Ge Er realising what she has done to her own child and to Chang Geng

Okay this got super long but what are you guys looking forward to seeing when Winner is King hits our screens? I’m looking forward to creating content for this fandom when it hits ೕ(˃̵ᴗ˂̵ ๑) In the meantime, sound off on what you’re expecting and what you’re maybe wary about!

#winner is king #feng huo liu jin #烽火流金 #gab to watch #changgu #chang geng #gu yun #tencent #cdrama #sha po lang #杀破狼

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atsukashii · 3 years

Note

heyyyyy im miley :) can you please do

MILEY X KUROO + SHE/HER + ☀️ + BLACK

thank you! i hope you have a nice day

( i loved the other kuroo one you did. it was so cute ^-^)

looking only directly at you so you don't go away

✘ you're absolutely the kind of person who loves spontaneous adventures, even more when your boyfriend is by your side. But when it comes knocking at 1am - you love them a whole lot less.

✘ GENRE: fluff

✘ WARNINGS: none

✘ WORD COUNT: 1.4k

When you had heard your phone vibrating next to your bed when the sky was still dark out, you had not expected to see twenty six missed texts from your boyfriend. Expecting the worst, you immediately sit up in bed with a thundering heart, unlocking the screen.

[1:33am] FROM: KUROO Sleeping beauty, wake up please

[1:33am] FROM: KUROO Seriously, we’ve got places to be gorgeous

[1:34am] FROM: KUROO I’m about to start tossing rocks at your window.

A small thunk noise echoes through your room, and your head whips towards the window. You wait a moment, brows furrowed in somewhat confusion and disbelief. Surely he isn’t… Only a few seconds later there’s another noise and you slip from your warm bed and move to the window, yanking it open and glaring at the person outside.

“I know that romance movies make being woken up by your hot boyfriend in the middle of the night as super romantic, but I can tell you right now; it’s not.” You whisper in a hiss, leaning your forearms on your windowsill.

“Maybe it’s romantic for me,” Kuroo’s hazel eyes flash in the dimmed lighting coming from the lamps on the street. His teasing grin has butterflies fluttering gently in your stomach, and as much as you think that the gesture is adorable coming from him. “And you think I'm hot?” That smile also makes you want to throttle him.

“You’re standing in Mr Sato’s vegetable garden.” You point out, only smiling once Kuroo looks down at his feet, muttering a brief curse under his breath, knowing full well just how protective your elderly downstairs neighbour is of his garden.

“Well if you hurry up and climb out your window to join me on our adventure, I can stop standing on carrots.” He replies back, wagging his brows at you in encouragement. The thought of climbing out your window and dropping a storey to the ground makes you laugh and instead you grip the window and shoot your boyfriend a look.

“I’ll take the stairs thanks.” Is all you say before closing the window and locking it. Not giving Kuroo a second glance, you quickly scurry around the room, changing into some jeans, grabbing a thick jacket. Quietly sneaking down the internal staircase of your complex, you almost run out of the entrance to not wake up your neighbours. It’s not until you see Kuroo leaning up against the fence of your building do you finally relax.

“I hate you.” You sigh, breathing into your hands, trying to bring heat into them, but the October chill has them getting colder by the second.

“You love me.” Kuroo corrects, reaching out and grabbing one of your hands, entwining his fingers with yours before shoving them both into his jacket pocket. The gesture makes you smile, and he sees it before you can try to hide it and smirks at you, but you honestly don’t care.

“Alright Casanova, pray tell, why the hell are you dragging me out of bed in the middle of the night?” You finally ask, following your boyfriend to god knows where as he starts you both down the footpath.

“Can’t tell you, it’s a secret.” He shoots you a wink with his reply, causing you to roll your eyes. Whoever once said if you roll your eyes too much they’ll fall out of your head was a liar, considering it was a constant gesture of love between you both, and your face was still intact. It’s only after walking in comfortable silence down the main street of your town, smothering a yawn in your shoulder that you finally recognise where you're going. Your idea is cemented when Kuroo rocks to a stop outside the train station.

“I didn’t bring my wallet.” You realise, cursing at your stupidity.

“I know, don’t worry sweetheart.” Shaking his wallet in the sky for good measure, you both get into the station and board an awaiting train, the whole time, you give up trying to figure out where you’re going as sleep once again tugs at your consciousness.

When you finally sit down on the cushioned bench seats, you immediately lean your weight into your boyfriend.

“Was I supposed to bring clothes?” You ask, slightly concerned to be unprepared for something like this. Although, since dating Kuroo, doing sporadic spontaneous things such as this became a common occurrence, but you always had a somewhat plan on where you were going. This was the first time you’d been left out of the loop until the last minute.

“Nope.” He responds with a smile as you lay your head on his shoulder. You eye his backpack sitting on his lap that you hadn’t noticed before, and he gently flicks your cheek.

“Stop stressing about it and just sleep. I’ll wake you up when we’re there.” He whispers, pressing his face to the top of your head and kissing your crown.

“Okay,” you get out before closing your eyes and letting Kuroo’s warmth bleed into you, keeping out the cold and helping sleep tug at your subconscious.

You’re not sure how long you sleep for, as when your boyfriend finally shakes you awake, it’s still dark out. Blindly, you take the backpack that Kuroo offers you before slipping it onto your shoulders.

“Up you go,” Kuroo says, his back facing you and a grin tossed over his shoulder.

You have absolutely no idea where you are either. As you walk through a small coastal town, your head resting on his shoulder, all you can make out is weathered old styled homes and storefronts, with stone streets and the smell of salt in the air.

If you weren’t half asleep, you might have picked it up earlier, but it takes you literally staring at the beach to realise Kuroo has brought you to the ocean. With furrowed brows, you get off your boyfriend’s back and step around him, letting the gentle ocean breeze hit you at full force. Why had he done this? You loved the ocean, and the fact that you didn’t live near it was a downer, but you had both made time to holiday to any beachfront town you could find when you had time. So why now?

He must see the question in your gaze, because Kuroo simply grabs your hand and pulls you onto the sand. “Come on,” he smiles, and you’re so confused, shocked and overwhelmed that you just follow him onto the beach. Dragging you down towards the shoreline, he suddenly sits on the sand and reaches up, gripping your hips and bringing you down with him.

“Kuroo-”

“Wait, just watch.” His voice gently brushes against your ear as you both stare at the ocean. His chest flush against your back, with his arms comfortably wrapped around your stomach, keeping you close and warm, you both sit in silence waiting for what you're not sure.

But then you see it. At first it's an odd light that you think as a trick of your eyes, but then as seconds slip by and dark blue sky bleeds to orange and yellows do you inhale sharply. You want to glance at the time, but you already know it's morning, and you’re witnessing the sunrise. Something throbs gently in your chest, as if someone is tugging on a rib, and you lean back into your boyfriend for support. Kuroo squeezes you for a moment before withdrawing an arm to fiddle with his backpack. Your eyes don’t move from the light show in front of you until you feel both of Kuroo’s arms back around your stomach.

“I’ll be the first person you see every time.” He whispers the words he’d said when you were just kids, and you finally look down to his hands to see a small cupcake. Your heart lurches into your throat as you take in the single candle and although it's unlit, the sentiment doesn’t go past you. Turning your head slightly, so overwhelmed that you can’t stop the stray tear from slipping by. There’s so much love radiating between you both and you press your hand to his chest, not knowing how to say just how happy he makes you. Not knowing how to emphasise how much you love him, and there will never be a way to properly articulate it either. But Kuroo knows, because he nods, his own eyes blinking rapidly as they well, then places a chaste kiss on your lips. One that has enough love in the small action alone, you feel it in the depths of your bones and soul.

“Happy birthday gorgeous.”

a/n: i'm living for these hq asks tbh! and even tho this is a self ship post, i still want kuroo to do this with me pls

✘ EVENT STATUS : CLOSED ✘

#special event 🧚‍♀️✨#lols writes #kuroo tetsurō #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu kuroo tetsuro

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oh-for-fic-sake · 5 years

Text

The True Knot

Clark catches you christening your new forbidden contraband and decided to give you his full knot as punishment

Masterlist

Chapter One

Warnings: Adult situations +18, Smut, Noncon, Dubcon, Forced knotting, A/B/O

A/n so this is the final part to this i wanted to do a darker clark in this hope you enjoy xxx

The True Knot

"Ah ah fuck yesyes yes uhg!!" You finally got your fantasy right visualising Clark holding you down pounding you growling and grunting above you he'd praise you whispering dirty lewd thoughts that he dare not say any other time the you groaned feeling yourself climb higher and higher untill

You yelped out loud lying down on your back legs spread wide knees bent as you ran the vibrating toy across your swollen folds. You let your moans Echo across the empty apartment no care to the neighbors that might hear you to lost in your passion. You'll admit the toy was good but not as good as Clark.... but fuck clark you were pissed off with hth him at the moment.

Things were great blissful even youd spent your first heat with him in a constant frenzy of lips teeth and wandering hands knotting him more times then you could count, afterwards you had spent the following week moving in with him, but then you found the down side to mating. The possessive stubborn side of alphas that everyone talked about, not that it wasn't a turn on it really was but he had decided that you will remain in the den until you knew if you were pregnant or not which could take 8 the 12 weeks! Stuck in here while he could go to work as normal it wasn't fair! Each morning he left you sulked pleading with him to let you go to.

But no he wouldn't allow it, you also missed him pining for him during the day and hated how when he got home you would drag him to your nest of blankets in the corner of your shared bedroom curling up with him lapping up at his attention he wouldn't stay long tho, going out to patrol the city. You understood he was superman but you couldn't help feeling a little put out.

You moaned long and loud as you pushed the rubber toy inside of you rocking back and forth on it your body swallowing it. So how did you get here? You may not be in your heat but all newly mated couples had a honeymoon period, Clark had refused to touch you afraid of hurting any unborn baby you could be carrying... and in a fit of alpha fueled jealousy he had dumped all of your toys when you threatened to use them instead,a bad move on your part. So you had taken matters into your own hands in an act of rebellion you bought yourself another one, a better one and was currently christening it in your small cosey nest.

You'll admit there was also a childish side to it as well you wanted to punish him in a sense for ignoring your needs and what better way to punish an alpha then to get yourself off in your nest without him, letting your scent linger in the bedroom to tease him when he got home. If he wanted to ignore your needs thats fine you didnt need him... tho you did, this toy was good but it wasn't as large as him, the knot wont lock the same way it didnt flex and pulse like him. You sighed irritated but still desperate to prove your point, you persisted dragging and pushing it in and out

"YEEESSS AAHH FUCK YES YES PLEASE" you cried out your release to the ceiling pushing down as the specialy designed toy inflated at the base wedged between your walls. It wasnt as a tight a fit as with your alpha but it was enough to be held inplace. You panted hard smothing back your hair with both hands

"Well that was quite a show little omega" you froze the growl was deep and dragged across your skin making the hairs stand on end, yelping you began to sit up only for Clark to appear above you he kneeled one leg in the floor the other was resting on just below your chest enough pressure to hold you down. He was in his super suit his muclses taught he peeked between your legs inspecting the way the toy was stuffing you, you blushed going to close them but he laid quick slaps to your still quivering soft thighs growling low in his chest, it rumbled though you leavjng you shaken. He pulled his hands down each pinching your sensitive lips spreading them wider then poked the toy playing with it.

"Where did you get this?" He asked as he wiggled the base of the toy slightly making you gasp bucking up to him. You wet your lips watching him, his jaw was locked and the muscles in his neck twitched his face was blank. But overall he wasnt happy not in the slightest.

"A-alpha I-I please aaahhh~" you moaned as he pushed the toy deeper still not reaching as far as him but it was uncomfortable as he rubbed it against your swollen sensitive clit.

"Mate.. where did you get this?" He stopped looking at the toy locking eyes with you you faltered he looked incredible all wound up and powerfull dominant you gulped unable to stop your quiet .

"I-I bought it online alpha" he tutted shaking his head at you then ripped it from you harshly you screamed as it pulled against your walls. You werent supposed to do that. You cried closing your legs clutching at your pussy tears falling down your cheeks as your pussy cramped tight hot and sore. He watched with a cool gaze as you withered then moved back resting beside you.

"Clark why did you do that?" You whimpered tears still rolling down bringing your knees to your chest trying to stop the burning sting he had caused. He just lifted the toy then tapped it on your stomach wetting it with your arousal.

"Bad omega, I've told you about these havent I? I find you with one and I will tug it out Every. Single. Time" you just groan as he scolded you he was angry that was clear but he didn't sound quite like himself, then he moved down by your bottom he tucked his arm below you knees pushing them tighter to your chest then prodded your freshly fucked pussy with his fingers.

"So tell me sweet omega, did it satisfy you? Did it fill you like me" you shook your head your were trembling head to toe the pain had ebbed away and was slowly giving in to his fingers light strokes.

"Very naughty of you. To go behind my back like this... dont you think?" He tilted his head at you as he rubbed circles over your opening spreading your slick across you the removed his and brought it back down in a strong spank, you yelped as he struck you again and again leaving a hot sting across your lips.

"NO! Nonono please stop I'm sorry" he struck you once more then slid his finger to your front running small light flick on your clit then rubbed the full length of your slit you bucked mewling slowly as he continued teasing and pinching you. He removed himself from you returning seconds later pushing you onto your back you felt his warm skin pressing against your legs as he shifted you then settled above you his knees tucked up into your armpits he moved forward holding his hard cock to your lips one hand fisted in your hair

"So desperate for me are you? lets see if you how much you can really handle shall we? should i force you to take me fully?" you whimpered as he ran the crown of his cock across your lips you slowly stuck out your tongue unable to stop yourself from tasting him he chuckled as you began giving him small delicate kitten licks each time he ran across them. You grunted as your hot tongue licked tiny strips on his slit.

"You want it? you want to be my good little bitch?" you nodded a quick tight nod under his hand

"OH Fuck yes good girl" he moaned lost in his own pleasure then began pulling back and thrusting again then began face fucking you. You laid there taking it clenching your walls and rubbing your thighs together as you seeped onto the floor below. Somehow this almost angry fucking was turning you to mush, he groaned loud removing himself from your throat. Quickly repositioned you in front of him bent over spanking you heating your cheeks before pushing his fingers into you running circles on your swollen abused walls you cried in pleasure as your nerves were set ablaze making all of your muscles convulse, abdomen flexing and pussy trying to hold his fingers still he pounded you quickly a fierce rhythm knocking the air out of you with each hard push curling his fingers hooking into your g spot trying to anchor you with it. You panted trying to keep your breath as he fucked it out of you with his fingers your body shivered with each stroke of his fingers.

"Then fight for it" he said dragging your head just out of reach as you tried to suckle on him mouth open stretching your tongue to reach him ,your pussy ceased at the lustful look he gave you as you pulled forward your scalp protesting as you pulled forward with all your might trying to suck him down needing to please him. He teased you bringing you forward allowing you to touch him then pulling back before repeating slowly going deeper and deeper. You became worried as he didn't stop like he usually did you moved your hands to his hips trying to push him away as he pushed past the back of your throat making you gag and then some digging your short nails into his skin.

He let his head fall back groaning as he pulled you tight to him choking you, quickly you tried to relax your throat as he pulled you closer and closer until your nose was brushed against his pubic bone nestled in the thatch of hair breathing in his scent you whined clawing his thigh as he held you still balls pressed to your chin as you choked on him.

"No ohmygod! nonono alpha I can't-please stop its to much I-FUCK!" you scrambled trying to claw your way out from under him, he caged you his hand by your head using his forearm to hold you still by your shoulder.

"Are you ready omega? I'm not pulling back your getting everything" he growled out you mewled out a small no pleading him not to make you take him it would seem he wasn't playing around grunting and growling he pushed and pulled you against him using you for his own pleasure chasing his own end.

"You don't have a choice....Take it!!...This is what you wanted and you'll take everything I want to give until I say" he grunted moving down putting his weight on your back as you withered and shook trying to arch away from him but to no avail. You keened feeling yourself cum all over him crying and grinding on him but he didn't stop, licking at the sweat on your back kissing and biting around your shoulders he plowed you into a second orgasm punishing you as he still continued drawing out moans and pleas as you wriggled desperate for a break you collapsed mewling shivering from the barrage of sensations giving in as you released over his hand for a third time wailing as you did hoarse.

He slowed removing his fingers then lined himself up to you not wasting any time he thrust in with one deep powerful stroke wedging his head into your cervix painfully. You yelped and doubled your efforts to get away but he laughed leaning back on his feet dragging your hips up his thighs rocking into your rolling his hips enjoying your walls coiling around his shaft. You panicked as you felt him pressing against your cervix you could feel throbbing as he began rocking. Through the pain you cried out in ecstasy you clamped around him, hot and needy you gyrated into him rubbing your tender folds against him then he moved thrusting deep and quick you pulled at your nest as he became faster and rougher with each thrust.

"Yes FUCK Yes good girl doing so well... Soo well FUCK. Here.We.Go UGH!." he pulled you tight as his knot grew you whimpered as he held you much firmer this time bruising your hips forcing his whole knot into you.

"OW NO ALPHA ITS TO MUCH-FUCK PLEASE" you tucked your head below you as your arms gave out under you unlike in your heat where he had let the base of his knot rest outside this time he had stuffed the whole thing in.

"No I told you .Everything. FUCK!" You cringed as he gave one final push forcing his head to slide into your cervix opening as his knot popped inside, your muscles protested as they closed tight behind it trapping him properly. It felt like the size of a tennis ball. He grunted feeling your true opening almost strangle his cock. You whimpered as he pulled your back flush to his heaving chest you were shaking and in shock as your body protested to his punishing penetration. You heard him groan low as the first spray of cum filled you much higher than it ever had before.

"OH OH GOD.. yes...good girl, you did it ,you took your punishment so well I'm so proud of you love." as he praised you he rubbed your lower tummy then pressed as you protested, he could feel his cock as it twitched slowly stretching you with his constant stream flooding you. You groaned wincing as you felt impossibly warm as his hot seed coated your insides, your pussy twitched sore and taught around his intrusion trying to push it out but had no hope. He kissed your mating mark as you whined still twitching, he was massaging you in the most intimate of ways with every shuddering breath you took sending sparks across your body. He placed an arm around your waist locking you against his chest and stood up.

"AH.AH nononono Clark stop it hurts please stop moving!" he ignored you making his way slowly and carefully to the bathroom stopping in front of the full length mirror.

"Look, look at yourself omega... look at what I've done to you." you did casting a look to yourself your skin flushed pink sweat glistening, your hair stuck to your face then you saw, thighs drenched with your own cum lips spread out over the huge knot your erect red clit poking out obscenely you. Whimpered the sight made you clench again trying in vain to push him out, it almost looked as painful as it felt. He hushed you as you weeped quietly as the pleasure and pain battled one another, the sting was sharp but his knot was pressing against your g spot throbbing against it making you tremble as there was no relief or escape from it.

"That toy couldn't do this to you....Fuck you so throughly fill you... I can and will I'm sorry I've been neglecting you but that was no excuse to disobey me..... this is mine." he lowered a hand and pinched your clit making you squeal wanting to buck into him yet stay still to avoid pulling on him any movement pressed harder against your spot making moans bubble from you as your mouth hung open lewd sound pouring from you.

"Are you doing ok love? I haven't harmed you have I?" he said slowly he sounded more him self now not aggressive he was worried regret washed over him. You kissed his thigh by your head feeling him start to shrink inside of you slowly.

"MY pussy and mine alone nothing goes up here except me.... understand? and if it does I will know and I will force you to take me all of me.... it that understood?" he spoke quietly into your neck licking and kissing running his teeth and tongue over your mark. Then began rubbing your clit fast then slow you cringed as you clamped on his knot making him moan loud into your ear you kicked out as he pushed you into one final bone shaking orgasm around him grunting thrusting up into you slightly as it triggered another stream of cum from him. You went lax he laughed lightly then went back into the bedroom laying on the bed arms crossed behind his head as you sat one knee either side on his hips.

You blinked as painful as it was you couldn't deny it had been the best sex you'd ever had the swell of happiness you had got what you wanted even if he was rough with you it had been exhilarating having him lose his cool and use you. You shivered then hissed leaning down onto your elbows on the mattress he brought a hand to your bottom rubbing it slowly.

"No you didn't harm me..... i'm a bit sore but I did ask for it" you replied to him he sighed in relief

"Yes you did.... you shouldn't test me like that I could accidentally hurt you."

"I trust you... I'm sorry I was being a brat..." he rubbed your hips smoothing over the marks that were beginning to form

"I love you Clark" he patted you lightly then pulled a little there was a small tug of pain then he slipped free remarkably nothing slipped free as he pulled you up the bed laying in his arms you nuzzled his chest he kissed your head.

"I love you to..... but i mean it no more toys" you looked up sheepish fluttering your eyes at him

"Cant I keep just this one? please?" you begged he frowned at you then looked over at your nest spotting the offending rubber on the floor. You gasped as he lazered it melting the damn thing from the bed then looked back to you as his eyes returned to there incredible blue

"Does that answer your question?" you pouted at him

"That was expensive! what am I supposed to do when your not here?"

"Suffer and wait for me to come home" he said without missing a beat you sulked but kept quiet snuggling into his chest kissing it as he pulled a cover over the both of you drifting into and exhausted sleep.

Taglist @havenoffandoms

#clark kent imagine #alpha clark kent #clark kent x reader #clark kent x you #clark kent x y/n #alpha superman #superman x you #superman x reader #superman smut #clark kent smut

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bootyyy-shaker9000 · 4 years

Note

I LOVE THE MUD DOGS THEY MAKE ME WHOLE

Okay so I was wondering if you could do a leonard x GN reader. Since it's around Christmas the idea i came up with was that the reader takes leonard out (lets say the Lost City has its own weather system so then they can get the same weather as New York) and its snowing and the reader starts a snowball fight and then they go for hot chocolate and Leonard gets all flustered at how beautiful his crush is with snow in their hair and they keep each other warm ❤❤

Someone Special

L.Leonard x G-N! Reader [Oneshot]

Relationship: Pining - Romantic

Warnings: Fluff, Holiday feels.

A/N: This is super later, I know, but it's still snowing sooo...Take it :)

The ogre cracked his eyes open, groggily stirring awake at the feel of something weighing on one side of his bed, causing it to dip. His first instinct is to ignore it, but then he heard a quiet 'hey' call out to the darkness of his room, so he half-assedly turned to peek over his shoulder.

To Leonard's surprise, his gaze fell upon yours, your features brandishing a childish grin. He blinked away the sleep in his eyes, making way to face you head-on. Though he pulled his sheets closer to his chest, remembering the reason why people weren't supposed to come into his room in the morning.

"Nnn'wha...what you doin'?"

"Come on, lazy bones, you're getting up."

"Noho, I'm not." He countered you in a low grumble, laying back into his pillow.

"But I gotta show you something." You drew out in a whispered whine, slumping your shoulders at his lack of interest.

Slapping his hands to his face, he rubbed hard circles into his sockets with his palms, groaning heavily. He knew he should have been admirable of your enthusiasm, usually finding content in your energetic attitude, but God, it was too early. "Don't you have to be annoying somewhere else?"

"Not until five."

"If it's the snow, I saw it already las' night."

"Shhhhh, sh, sh, sh." You wavered a hand in front of his face, then whipped open the curtains to his window before making way to stand at the doorway. "It's noon. Have a piss and get dressed. We're going out."

He groaned again, lolling his head back, lacking all motivation. But you weren't budging, which got him to sit up with a roll of his eyes. "Fine. Give me ten minutes."

Doing as he was told, he did just that. But now he found himself out in the white-sheeted streets, wrapped up head to toe with you close to his side.

He would be dumb to question himself as to why he was out here when all he could be doing was staying in bed all day due to the lack of plans they have had recently. He had his heart set on his time of loafing, but then there was you.

He wasn’t complaining, because he enjoyed having you around and you were essential to the group’s dynamic. Although, the flip he would feel in his stomach made it hard to stray so close to your side, the positive heat you radiated made his palms clammy.

But you were addictive, and you had a habit of persuading him in the easiest of ways.

Never stopped him from grumbling here and there, though.

“Aren’t you cold? We should just head back inside.” He turned to you, noting how your regard was focused on your feet, listening closely to the crunch of the snow beneath your boots.

“And have you burrow away in that cave you call a bedroom? Hell no, it’s snowing.”

The ogre huffed in response, shoving his fists deeper into his coat pockets while you both strode side by side down the sidewalk. You didn’t have a set course in mind, but you were aware of Loathsome’s appreciation of aimless walks, even if he weren’t showing it much at this moment.

“Do you not like the snow or somethin’? You’re not usually this grouchy when we go out.”

“I do,” He sighed. “But I know fully well Mick would’ve forced me out at some point anyway, so I wanted to at least chill out for a bit.”

You peeked up at your friend with a pull at your lips. “Was that pun intentional?”

“I...no, it wasn’t.”

“Hm...”

He watched your mouth curve into a slight frown, making him regret saying anything at all. Why did you still want him out with you with his sour attitude? You were so adamant to staying outside, it had him genuinely confused.

Being sidetracked by his thoughts, Leonard didn't realise you had paused in your steps until he heard you chirp up from behind.

“I think I have something that’ll cheer you up!”

“What d'ya mean-” He swivelled around to be interrupted by a snowball lightly hitting his shoulder, along with you stifling a snort at the look that adorned his face.

Subsiding the initial shock, Len sent you an iffy attempt at a grin. “Seriously?”

“Come on, Loathsome. Live a little.” You moved to gather another clump of snow between your cupped hands, slowly picking up speed as you watched Leonard mirror your movements.

He towered over where you crouched on the ground, swiping a hand over a nearby windowsill and gathered the snow that resonated there. “You do realise what I do for a living, right?”

“Yeah, but you know that’s- Umf!” Leonard had already pelted a clumped up ball directly at your crown, knocking you to your backside as your feet slipped out from beneath you. “Hey, hitting above the shoulders is dirty play!”

“Not when you play with me, it isn't.” The man leant over you with a bent knee, a smug grin fastened to his lips. “You wanna try me again or can we go get a drink?”

You huffed as you stared down the hand he held out for you with slight hesitation, then clasped your hand in his, heaving you up from the ground with a swift pull. Whether it was the weather or the mere form of contact, he couldn't ignore the shiver that crawled up his arm as his hand engulfed yours.

Eyes drifting, Leonard caught sight of yours and he could have sworn there was a sparkle in there. What was up with that?

The man intended to release your hand from his hold, though his heart jumped when your grip only tightened, your thumb grazing over his own. His softened, curious stare hadn’t gone unnoticed by you as a smile graced your lips.

"Glad to see you've perked up. Is this...okay?"

In all honesty, he was more focused on the snow that clung to odd strands of your hair, glimmering under the bright lights that cascaded over you both. Took him a moment to realise your gesture towards your fingers that tempted to intertwine with his.

“Yeah...yeah, no, it’s okay. Let’s uh, get going.”

The drinks were eventually achieved. Now you were strolling your way back to the apartment, hand in hand, through the city’s streets. Despite the hot beverage that occupied your free hand, the drop in temperature during your departure urged you to tighten your arms to your sides. Leonard acted on the sight, a newfound warmth tinting the apple of his cheeks as he adjusted himself.

“Here.” He uttered, a surge of confidence washing over him as he shimmied your clasped hands into his toasty coat pocket. Doing so without looking your way, he hadn’t noticed how your face flushed in response. Though, instead of vocally protesting, you only gravitated closer to his side, basking in his warmth.

Out of sight, Leonard smiled.

#rottmnt #tmnt #rottmnt loathsome leonard #rottmnt loathsome leonard x reader #rottmnt mud dogs #rottmnt mud dogs x reader #rottmnt x reader

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doorsclosingslowly · 3 years

Text

Someone, Broom in Hand

Kaz died before he turned sixteen. That’s the story. When he reappears, it’s at the side of the Dark General, wearing the thin fluttering robes of the Sun Summoner. Jesper travels to the Little Palace to punch his fucking teeth out.

Kaz[/&]Jesper | 7.5k | content note: nonlinear narrative, past and offscreen abuse

The purple kefta is too big for Kaz. Jesper doesn’t want to think about why he dumped his coat over Kaz’ head, except that Kaz looks weird and cold in his ugly fancy yellow paper taffeta shirt, his one layer that he’s wearing apart from the underpants that leave his knees bare.

That he looks uncomfortable at all should be nothing but a trick of the violent light: there are two separate lit fireplaces in the bedroom, so awkwardly placed that they were probably retrofitted by a Fabrikator. It might have been David, though then Jesper would surely have heard a treatise on the stones used to erect the Little Palace, or Gaz, or Lizaveta or any of the other Materialki Jesper’s been bunking with but—but anyway, if Kaz felt like wearing more, he could order an attendant to fetch another shirt or two. Unless there’s nothing he owns that isn’t thin and revealing and fucking yellow. Unless he’s not allowed… Unless he can’t even dress himself anymore without a gaggle of attendants. Man moves up in the world and forgets everything he knew: tale as old as time.

“Just like you forgot us,” Jesper mutters, less viciously than he should.

The Kaz-doll makes no comment. No protest. No further manipulation of Jesper’s old affections. No snide mockery for Jesper passing his kefta on to the man that less than an hour ago, he tried to kill.

He just pulls the coat on. With his odd bare fingers—no claws after all, just thin and human—he closes button after button, including the top four that Jesper’s never once used, struggling to pull the material over the bone-tines sticking out of his chest. (And who back home would believe that Dirtyhands has ordinary fingers and a totally fucked up chest?) It would be easier to leave it open, but Kaz, even now he’s a sunny lapdog, doesn’t do easy. When he drops his arms, the too-long sleeves fall down over his hands, and with his thumbs he traps the fabric there. Sad little improvised half-gloves, more than Jesper’s seen him wear in the month since he let himself get conscripted into the Little Palace. He looks back at Jesper.

There’s no Thank you—Kaz Brekker never knew that word, and it seems in the two years they had him, whatever else they forced on him the Ravkans failed to teach him any more manners—but there is something new in his glare. It’s not just the purple washing the colour off his smooth—his way too smooth face. No. It’s something old: defiant, and angry, and scheming, just barely breaking through the placid paint and the rust beneath it.

Bit by bit, as he buttons up Jesper’s kefta Kaz simultaneously pulls on the moth-bitten coat of Dirtyhands he’s kept way back in the wardrobe of his brain, the ruthless killer, Bastard of the Barrel, Dregs lieutenant and future gang boss unless he gets murdered first. And it didn’t stick the first time. Pulls it over whoever it is that he was before. Over the doll beside Kirigan.

Over that person in the corner, that cornered boy, brittle and alone and stripped of armour and weapon and self, and Jesper wants to kill every single fucker in the Little Palace.

“Back home, you had a plan for everything,” he says instead. “I’m not assuming it’s a B or even a Z or a Q squared, but I know you. I know you’ve considered it. What do we do now your beloved long-lost friend’s shown up to help you steal the Sun Summoner?”

☼

Yesterday, Kerch accepted the terms of the Ravkan crown. Ex-crown. Dark fucking empire. Whatever. Test all children and send the Grisha to the Little Palace, conscript some people into the First Army—though what they still need an army for when they have the Fold is anyone’s guess—send food, booze, and, worst of all to the fastidious greedy Kerch, pay tribute without receiving anything at all in return. It was in the mouth of every paperboy on the streets, every mercher, every gang boss. By Ghezen how could we just surrender? they moaned, and Do you want to end like West Ravka? and Didn’t you see him? Kirigan’s going to crown himself king of everything. He’s unstoppable. And that boy next to him, the Sun—

Honestly? Jesper doesn’t give a fuck anymore. He’s paying fifty kruge just to sit on Inej’s bed for an hour and braid her hair. Ketterdam can burn to the sopping wet ground for all he cares. The world can rot. Like the Dregs did. Like everything Jesper cared for.

Inej, though, watched it.

“I had to see,” she’s whispering into Jesper’s ear, barely moving her miserable red-painted lips even though his hair should block out most lines of sight already. Inej’s smart, though, and desperate: if Jesper keeps returning to the Menagerie as nothing but a smitten small-time gangster with an incredibly vanilla hair fetish, he won’t catch attention. Tante Heleen will have fewer reasons to raise Inej’s rates. Jesper can barely pay for a visit a month as it is, and even those he allows himself mostly because he’s given up the hope of ever paying off her indenture unless he wins big.

“I snuck out yesterday. I had to see. Heleen got a new girl from Ravka six months ago, and she believes, too. Had a cheap pamphlet with her, last thing she had, of the new Saint. The illustrations… they looked just like Kaz.”

“Fu—” Inej elbows him. Jesper presses his lips into the braid over her ear. “Forget about Kaz Brekker. You’re the only one who matters now. He died, and you ended up here.”

She’s trapped in the Menagerie now because Kaz disappeared into the harbour like so many orphans before him; because he didn’t tell Jesper jack shit about Inej’s situation that might have helped him keep her safe in the Dregs; because he allowed senile Haskell who knows the names of all his five hundred thousand miniature boats and literally nothing else to stay in charge of the Dregs instead of killing him as soon as possible, which allowed Haskell to let the payments for Inej’s indenture lapse, which meant three months after Kaz just disappeared from his life Jesper got back to the Slat to find that Inej, too, had gone without a trace, and it was only luck and a pervert old Dreg that Jesper soon afterwards ‘accidentally’ shoved off a roof talking about the girls at the Menagerie that meant he found her again. Found her, only to realize he can’t help her at all.

Inej pulls Jesper’s ear back to her mouth. “I saw him, Jesper. I saw Kaz. Kaz is alive. He was there. I saw him.”

“You what?!” A sharp elbow darting out of her red sad nightgown that would have slipped right in-between his ribs if it was one of the knives she still mourns, and he’s not even given anything away. Heleen’s a hell bitch, but what use would she get out of random surprise?

“I saw Kaz. He’s the Sun Summoner. I was far away but—it was Kaz, standing next to General Kirigan, holding his hand, when the Merchant’s Council signed the terms of surrender. It was Kaz. I’m certain. Sankt Kaz.”

“I—” Jesper burrows his face into Inej’s hair. “You didn’t happen to have a knife on you, did you? A really tiny one she couldn’t confiscate. A super lethal one. Might never get as good a chance again.”

“Jes—”

“Fuck him sideways with a rusty shovel. That traitor. Did you forget how you ended up here? He left us. Saw a bigger pile of cash and skedaddled, I bet. He always wanted to be king. Guess becoming the Darkling’s queen was the next-best option.”

Inej doesn’t even defend Kaz. Jesper pulls away from her so he can look at her face. She always looks sad these days, unless she has specific painful orders to perk up, but it’s deeper now. She’s not doing the gesture, not holding her hand against her chest. Faith, now, is just one more thing Kaz Brekker took from her. Jesper can’t blame her, even though he never believed. Not even when Ravka’s new ‘Sun Summoner’ started gaining them the whole continent. Power’s power, though, no matter whether the stories around it are true. If Kaz truly is the Sun Summoner, then it’s not just Kaz Brekker who sent her back to the Menagerie—but one of her Saints. Fucking asshole.

He buries Inej in his arms. It’s all he can do now, to hold her until this month’s hour is up, because it’s not like he can just murder the Ravkans special weapon in retribution, can he? Can…

“This changes nothing,” he whispers. “The only priority is still paying off your indenture. Kaz quit the Dregs. He left us, and that means he’s nothing now. Less than nothing. I have a good feeling about the Makker’s Wheel at the Emerald Palace this weekend. Lots of pigeons there for the ‘Fete of Unity with Mother Ravka’ or whatever, and the minder thinks I’m hot. It’s risky, of course, but if I do this right—”

☼

Jesper’s just about to crawl right back out from under the bed—weapons raised, since hell knows what Kaz was planning back there, and fuck Jesper for apparently still harbouring enough trust in the guy to follow his lead two years after he deserted—but then, a series of clicks and rumbles heralds the opening of the door. Footsteps, and it slides shut again.

Shit, that was close.

And Kaz wasn’t bluffing, after all. Well, well… it certainly means something that Kaz, beloved Saint and Sun Summoner and ally to the Darkling, just told his attempted murderer slash old friend and-or stooge to hide. Kaz never did anything without a motive, be it profit or power or vengeance, and even this degraded, polished version surely isn’t so far gone as to engage in ideas as base as altruism. Ergo, Kaz will want to use Jesper for—something, though what is there he wants when he’s basically a prince of—but he isn’t, is he? He’s in a cell. A cell Jesper can unlock.

Three pairs of footsteps move around the room. One of them might be Kaz, but without his limp, it’s hard to recognize him. None of them says a word, which… it probably means this is a routine visit. Whatever’s going on, they all know their role.

Two pairs stop moving, while the third one—circles around them, it sounds like, and then someone else stumbles a little and catches themselves. Jesper hopes they’ll hurry up. He’s in mortal danger, technically—Kaz can still choose to reveal the intruder inside the Sun Summoner’s private room and-orprison, but, prison. Jesper’s far more useful alive, and so, hiding under the bed is fucking boring.

There’s not even anything interesting in-between the slat frame and the mattress. It’s the only place where you could hide anything—that Jesper can think of, at least, but there’s just nothing there at all, and Kaz used to be a real magpie. It’s a gaping void, just like everything else in this room. Like everything else in this palace, a chasm painted over with gilt and power. Unless—something’s stuck to the underside of a cross brace. Jesper slides a fingernail under the edge, and it comes loose easily enough. Not exactly a cache worthy of Dirtyhands, and anyway, it’s just a… a mangled piece of paper. A paper that looks like it’s been chewed on and spat out—and an entire corner actually torn off, or bitten, maybe—and whatever used to be printed onto it mostly rubbed off except for a couple of letters here and there, RAV. Curved lines and tiny hats. What would Kaz need to hide in his room? Apart from weapons he doesn’t have. Other people’s jewellery, dito. The only thing that Jesper knows about him now is that he’s trying to open the door. Trying to leave. It’s probably a map, then.

Which means an escape is planned, and Jesper’s just providing the desperately sought means. Good. That means he should have even more leverage here.

Somebody stumbles again, this time taking two steps to catch themselves. Almost as if they’ve jerked away.

“You’re falling behind,” slimes the smooth, rich voice of the Darkling. “On second thought, our people would miss you at the celebration. I’ll inform the staff that you wish to dance, all night long.”

☼

“You’re hanging around here because you heard that General Kirigan and the Sun Summoner are due back this hour, aren’t you?” The woman in a tidemaker’s kefta that just sidled up to Jesper speaks unaccented, high class central Ravkan. Even if her dark skin is an indication of Zemeni heritage, she came to the Little Palace long before the Darkling’s recent territorial acquisitions. She’s no ally, just like the rest of the crowd that surrounds them: an old-school Grisha, veteran Second Army, not someone whose loyalties may yet be pliable. Not someone like Jesper, whose skin started crawling the moment he showed his skills to a Ravkan occupation officer so he could sneak into the Little Palace. She’s friendly, though, and looks at Jesper’s face with clear appreciation. “You must be new. Hi. I’m Nadia.”

“Jesper,” he says, throwing a flirtatious grin like a blanket over his nerves and anger. It’s almost fun, playing the suave infiltrator assassin Grisha. Except Inej’s still in the Menagerie. And Kaz is still a piece of shit. “Yeah, I just got here! They didn’t test for Grisha ability in Novyi Zem when I was little, so I barely knew who I was… but once I heard about the Darkling, about this place, I crossed the True Sea as soon as I could!”

“That must have been so hard. So lonely. This place is…” She grimaces. “This place was our sanctuary. You’re lucky you’re Materialnik.”

“Why?” It’s the first time since his arrival that anyone’s had even a neutral opinion of Durasts, let alone good, and granted, it’s not like he cares that much about the ability his Ma died from, and he’s only talked to a dozen people since arriving yesterday, but…

“Listen, I know you want to see the Sun Summoner, and don’t tell anyone I said this but…” Nadia pulls Jesper a few paces away from the crowd on the training grounds, into a corner formed by two enormous bales of hay. Well-chosen: he can barely see the crowd that just surrounded them peek out behind the yellow stalks. “You’re sweet—”

“Listen, you’re gorgeous, but we just met—although, on second—”

“No!” She laughs, but it’s bitter. “You’re cute, but no. It’s my duty, to her, to protect you. The new ones. You’re Materialnik, so you’re not combat, so you’re not going to actually meet the Sun Summoner. Ever, if you’re lucky.”

“He’s that bad?” Kaz was always a dick, if Jesper’s honest—it was part of his charm—he was just a charming magnetic one, and back with the Dregs Jesper hated his ruthlessness just as much as he admired it. He was worst to his fellow Dregs and his enemies, though: he could charm a mark when needed. So it’s a tad unexpected that Kaz earned himself the hatred of a Grisha indoctrinated from childhood to see him as her Saint and saviour. Apparently, he’s just that talented. That obnoxious.

Well, Jesper’s not complaining. That makes his plan much easier.

“He killed my best friend,” Nadia whispers urgently. “The last time I saw her they were taking a walk, and then I found her, blisters and burns all over her body. Who else? There’s a reason he’s not allowed to have weapons. I heard the Darkling doesn’t let him go anywhere alone, or he would murder us all. He killed Baghra too, I’m sure—she was our teacher, but she disappeared two years ago. Just stay away from him, alright? He looks harmless, but he’s a rabid dog. Oh. There he comes.”

Jesper barely manages to whisper, “Thank you,” before she pulls away from him and returns to her previous place. Back to the crowd of Etherealki and Corporalki on the training field, but she finds her place in the last row, standing—hiding—behind two men much taller than her.

Jesper follows into the crowd. No need to alert Kaz that the past is hot on his heels, and then—

Well. There he is.

There someoneis, anyway.

If Jesper trusted Inej just a hair’s breadth less, he’d have cursed her and sneaked back out of the Little Palace the second he sees the person holding General Kirigan’s hand. Sure, the Sun Summoner is male, with dark brown hair and dark eyes and pale skin, and just a little bit taller than Kaz was at fifteen, but that’s where the similarities end. Dirtyhands had his impeccable mercher’s suits in a grim mockery of Ketterdam’s upper class, and gloves to feed the rumours, and a cane to walk and kill. His hair managed to be at once floppy and severe; just like his gaunt face, in the right light, made him look utterly captivating and not just like an annoyed scheming rat. He looked exactly like the Bastard of the Barrel should. Not pleasant or easy, but the person Jesper once would have followed into any lion’s den.

This—this Sun Summoner, on Kirigan’s arm, is beautiful. Healthful. Pristine.

Barely even a fucking person.

It’s the face, mostly.

You could never tell what Kaz was thinking, just looking at him, because he was, after all, thinking in layers upon layers of incomprehensible schemes at all times of the day and then went to bed and dreamt about ploys and deceptions. Jesper could barely follow him the three times total he deigned to explain part of his plans. But you could always tell that Kaz was thinking. Planning, scheming, plotting his greedy bloody vicious way out of and into every possible house on every possible street.

The Sun Summoner looks empty. He’s staring straight ahead, but he’s not even doing thatwith any kind of purpose. He’s like a pet on the Darkling’s arm. He looks more airheaded than all blackout drunk heirs and heiresses in Ketterdam combined.

It’s incredibly eerie, because now he’s searching for it Jesper can sort of read Kaz Brekker back into the Sun Summoner’s face. This face is much smoother, without the marks of past firepox, plumped and rosy-tinted, but that might partially just be a testament to the quality of Ravkan cooks—or, how skint the Dregs always were. He has a normal haircut. It probably suits him better, unless your standard for beauty is Dirtyhands, and unfortunately Jesper—anyway. The Sun Summoner doesn’t have a cane, either, and he doesn’t need one, apparently, because he isn’t limping. Ravkan royal healthcare, but honestly, Kaz could have pressed a Grisha healer into service back in Ketterdam only he always insisted—well, whatever. Fuck his words of wisdom. Fuck him. Fuck Kaz. Jesper shouldn’t even be remembering that snake.

Kaz Brekker betrayed Inej, left her to rot in the Menagerie, so whatever role he’s playing right now in whatever scheme this is—because it has to be a scheme that put Kaz into the yellow robe he’s in right now, so thin it’s translucent, and sleeveless too in the Ravkan winter. The Dregs tattoo on his arm is gone. Two Inferni are flanking him and the Darkling, their hands perpetually on fire just so Kaz can parade about in a robe no Menagerie slave would go outside in, but still, it’s Kaz. It’s definitely Kaz Brekker. Jesper can see it now.

Fuck him. He traded the Dregs for this. He abandoned them to Haskell’s mismanagement and let Inej go back to the Menagerie. He betrayed them all.

(Of course, Jesper abandoned Inej now too, and without a word, but—after that last catastrophic loss in the Emerald Palace, there’s a zero percent chance the Dime Lions wouldn’t have strung him up by his own entrails—or sold him into indenture, trying to make back at least a fraction of the fifty thousand kruge he owes—so really, he had no choice. It’s the next best thing, right? If he can’t help her anymore, at least he can kill the bastard that started all their troubles.)

Kaz just walks off, hand in the Darkling’s grasp, towards the Little Palace. Carelessly following the other man’s lead.

The old Kaz would have noticed Jesper.

☼

Footsteps and then, a series of clicks and pieces of wood and metal rubbing stones. The door. Kaz’s legs, taking steps backwards to the bed in a perfect, healthy gait. The rich soft creaking of the bed as he sinks down again, and in front of Jesper—the same two muscular, pale, bare, identical hairy calves. Like the legs of a statue, or one of those de Kappels he used to like, except the right leg is trembling finely. Barely noticeable if it wasn’t right in front of Jesper’s face. Those Ravkans maybe aren’t so crafty after all.

Then: nothing.

After what feels like an hour in which Jesper doesn’t dare move, even though the Darkling must have left already, a hand drops off the edge off the mattress. Middle and index finger erect, then crooking twice in quick succession. It takes a moment to connect. Jesper hasn’t seen those signals in such a—move, path clear. Yes. That’s what it was.

Jesper wriggles out from under the bed, annoyingly free of dust. Pristine. Empty, just like everything else.

“Didn’t think the Sun Summoner needed to use our secret code, boss,” he drawls up at Kaz from the floor. Kaz, with his barren black eyes and his new porcelain doll face, picking at the wide open collar of his yellow shirt.

“Never drop a tool you can still use,” Kaz says. A beat. “Didn’t think I was your boss anymore.”

“You aren’t.” Jesper turns his head away, looking at the spotless floor and the intricately painted walls from his low vantage point. Exquisite, imposing, empty: a Saint’s cage, as beautiful and terrible as Inej’s room in the Menagerie. The bare wall hiding the inaccessible door. “That guy really fucking hates you.”

Kaz doesn’t reply. Jesper turns his head back to watch him again, even though that won’t give him anything more: Kaz used to be willfully inscrutable even back in the Barrel, but after whatever Grisha surgery they did to him, there are only traces left of the real person trapped inside him. Dollface, Jesper thinks again. Who’d have expected they’d turn fucking Dirtyhands into a dollface?

It’s Kaz who turns away, fingers clawed into his neckline. His voice is rough, even if it’s a shadow of the damaged rasp that used to be him. “I thought about it sometimes, back then. The first time.”

Every fibre of Jesper’s being wants to interrupt with, What are you talking about? I don’t speak cryptic anymore. I’m out of practice. He should get off the floor, raise his guns, resume—but whatever it is, whether it’s some stupid new Grisha power, whether it’s zowa, or his memory of Kaz is just coming back, he doesn’t—

“It was like this. I was on my bed already, usually, when it grew hard—and I thought you would be up for not being on the bed, and there wasn’t much else in my room. I imagined watching you. I didn’t touch it. That was better.”

Uh. What.

“He probably knows I threw up after we—I tried to hide it. I thought I could manipulate him into seeing me as his partner, I thought I’d healed, that I’d practiced enough—but he just saw that I was still weak. He saw he could control me. But if he didn’t do it again because I threw up, I’m—”

He was right. Jesper would have stayed on the cold hard floor back then for him. Even now, Jesper would crawl around like a worm jerking off for the fucking asshole he got himself trapped in the Little Palace to murder, if that meant Kaz never had to—

Kaz pulls the neckline of his flimsy thin single ugly yellow shirt closed. The shirt that doesn’t protect him. The shirt he didn’t choose.

☼

Jesper’s imagined the Sun Summoner’s quarters, of course. Most of the Grisha in the Little Palace are wretched gossips—or Jesper’s been charming as many people into spilling as many secrets as possible to him so he can plan his attack, same difference—and anyway, he needs a backdrop for his imagined kill shots. It’s Kaz Brekker, after all. Dirtyhands. The ex-Bastard. You’d want to rehearse that death. Think of some witty one-liners.

Nadia said it was gorgeous inside, like a dollhouse. Lizaveta, who Jesper’s been told to shadow so he can learn how to become a proper Durast, insisted it’s totally empty. Grzegorz said there were live kittens inside, so the Sun Summoner could sate his lust for innocent blood, Sayyna thought there was a giant swimming pool, and a lovely naïve boy from the edge of the permafrost up at the former border insisted it was just like the quarters of all other Grisha, except with a little more privacy. Since they’re all siblings fighting for a world that will be kind to Grisha.

Jesper, privately, imagined a few stolen paintings and a mishmash of furniture. Because he’s an idiot.

This is just like—

If it is the Sun Summoner’s bedroom at all. It should be. Jesper did his homework: he followed the Darkling and his Sun Summoner creature that wears the skin used to house Kaz, and a variety of Materialniks, to the end of this specific corridor, five times in total. Watched the Materialniks unlock a hidden mechanism, and then the two most powerful men in Ravka—in all charted countries, ruling everything this side of the True Sea but pockets of Shu Han and even that’s a matter of time—they walked inside, hand in hand. The Darkling always left, after a while, alone, and so it only made sense to assume that the hidden room that Jesper just snuck up to and unlocked is, in fact, the Sun Summoner’s room. Kaz’ room. It’s the best time for breaking into it, too. There’s going to be a party in two days, so hopefully everyone’s too busy, and even if the Sun Summoner’s out doing preparations then Jesper can just hide in here and kill him in an ambush. That’s probably easier, actually.

First, though, he locks and hides the door again, because… yeah, he went to Ravka expecting to get caught. At some point. This is a suicide mission for revenge, after all—suicide is in in the title. But it’s no fun if he gets caught before the gory glorious revenge part. Before Kaz admits he was a piece of shit. Both guns cocked and ready, he turns around, and actually inspects the room he broke into.

No. Nothing changes, even when he blinks and blinks again. That wasn’t a faulty first impression.

The room still looks like a fucking prison cell.

A fancy, clean cell, but a cell nonetheless. It’s empty except for the bed, and Jesper owes Lizaveta more money than he has on him (though to be fair, technically, Jesper’s fifty thousand kruge in debt anyway, so does it really make a difference at all if he’s a few Ravkan coins more in the red), and even the windows—Jesper’s had enough training now that he can look at the windows and see the subtly reinforcing mesh inside the glass. No curtains. No curtain rods. Nothing—there’s a subtle mesh inside the bedclothes too and the frame of the bed looks far too sturdy to be torn apart by anyone who isn’t a skilled Materialnik. There are meshes in front of the fireplaces.

Nothing in here that can be used as a weapon.

Not against others, and not against oneself.

No escape.

There’s nothing in this stark white massive room but a person, acting like he never did before and still looking more like himself than when he was walking through the training grounds. It’s probably the distance from other people. He’s got his back to Jesper and he’s in the furthest corner from the door, which should be a tactical misstep because he can’t escape from there but really—it’s as good as any other location, in this room. There’s nothing of use to anyone left, not even to someone as shrewd as Dirtyhands used to be before he lobotomized himself into the Sun Summoner. Or before he was—

Kaz pushes himself up from his kneeling position using the walls he faces. He mutters, “I beg your forgiveness for keeping you waiting, Aleks.” His voice sounds odd.

“Are you crying?”

“Jesper?!”

Kaz turns so quickly he has to brace himself against the wall again lest he fall over. His translucent shirt ripples. His dark eyes in his weird new too-handsome face trace over Jesper, again and again. If they were fingers, Jesper would feel like he’s being caressed. No, that’s the wrong thought. A thought from a book he won’t admit he’s read. Jesper’s got his guns out. He came here for a reason. A bloody, glorious reason.

“Inej wouldn’t want me to do this, but she’s locked up in the fucking Menagerie,” he announces, just to see whether Kaz can feel even a shred of guilt. “Just so you could be a Ravkan prince in ugly yellow lingerie.”

“Just follow my—”

No, then. Or maybe it’s just the new face Jesper can’t read. Not that it matters. “Shut up. Do you remember what you told me when I joined the Dregs? About what you’d do to traitors? Well, I have added a couple of my own ideas.”

“Shut up, Jesper. You can monologue when we’re done, but—”

Jesper aims right between his weird, smooth pebble eyes. “When you left us, you knew it would all go to shit. Inej’s in the Menagerie, and there’s no way to get her out again. Haskell let the Dregs collapse after you disappeared. No Dregs, no kru—”

Kaz flinches. “Quick. Get under the bed. Now.”

Whether it’s surprise, a sex instinct, or—far worse—a lingering sense of loyalty, Jesper obeys instantly.

☼

“We’re lost,” Jesper moans. They’ve been surrounded by trees for four days. He’s not even sure they’re trudging vaguely southwards anymore. Everything looks the same. What wouldn’t Jesper give to be back in Ketterdam already, with its lovely street names and pedestrians and garish landmarks (and gangsters about to string him up), or at least somewhere in Novyi Zem where he sort of understands the landscape. Or what’s left of Shu Han, so Kaz can unclench.

“We’re not lost,” Kaz rasps. “Keep going.”

“How do you—the map.” The half-chewed-up map hidden under Kaz’ bed, the map he snuck into his coat—Jesper’s kefta, whatever—even though he probably already knows it by heart.

“Yes. The map.”

“Why the fuck are you telling me to choose where we’re going if you’re memorized the map?!” What an asshole. Jesper just clean forgot what a piece of shit Kaz is. He forgot it so utterly he’s helping him break out of Ravka, without even extracting anything in return. He’s a fucking idiot. “Is it so you can blame me when we get caught?”

Kaz, the dick, rolls his eyes. “Wouldn’t I rather not get caught at all? Think, Jesper—what’s the one advantage you have over me?”

“I’m prettier,” Jesper shoots back. “My winning personality. I have a better tolerance for hard liquor. Fashion sense. I’m funny. No, wait—I’m a much more generous lover.”

“He doesn’t know you,” Kaz hisses, making the pronoun sound even more slimy than the guy it’s referring to, which is honestly quite a feat. “Do you think this is my first attempt? He’ll send people to every single route out of his core territory that poses any advantages. He has enough soldiers for that. What he doesn’t have, though, is enough soldiers to watch every route your bird-brain might pick at random.”

And then, he stalks ahead viciously. No. Limps ahead.

It’s been growing much more pronounced over the days. At first, even without a cane he walked just like any person with two healthy legs, and that’s what Jesper expected. The Ravkans healed their Saint’s leg, didn’t they? That’s what they would do. Only Kaz can think around enough corners to make his bad leg into an advantage. But with every passing day, Kaz’ gait has grown closer to what Jesper remembers from back before the world went to shit. Kaz was touchy about accommodations back then, though, or people being nice in general, so Jesper hasn’t even brought up improvising a new cane. All he’s dared to do is slowing down his own steps to what he remembers would have matched Kaz, back then.

And insisting on taking breaks. Like he does now.

“It’s almost night, you refuse to make light despite being made of sunshine, and I’m hungry,” he complains.

“I’d assume that Ketterdam has made you soft,” Kaz rasps, “o cherished crown jewel of crime and commerce, and what’s the difference.” He limps back to the fallen tree that Jesper has chosen as their camp site, though, so he must be a just few steps short of utter collapse.

Jesper unwraps the two woollen blankets he’s been carrying on his shoulders. They didn’t get a chance to steal much, mostly because Kaz was a prick about it and didn’t even let Jesper go back to his room: apparently there was time for Kaz to fold up a paper bag into a facsimile of an envelope and write an address in Djerholm onto it and have Jesper talk a stable-hand into riding out to deliver it, right now, but no time to search anywhere else for supplies. They took just whatever they found in the stables, which amounted to extra coats, some boots, the blankets, and horse feed. And gloves. Kaz declared it was time to run as soon as he’d found gloves.

Balefully, Jesper chews on his oats. Even wrapped in his blanket, the night is cold, and Kaz—who’s still wearing nothing but underpants besides the robe/gloves/Jesper’s kefta/stolen coat combo and ill-fitting boots without socks—is shivering violently.

“We should steal you some real clothes from the next house we see,” Jesper mutters. “And some decent food.”

“We’re not stealing anything until we’re in Shu.”

They’ve had this argument before. Jesper shouldn’t be as thrilled about that as he is. There’s no way to resolve it, until they find the border—or until Kaz keels over from hypothermia, because then even his rational fear of detection won’t keep Jesper from finding some trousers. For the time being, though—

“I’m going to sit closer and steal your body heat. In exchange, you can wrap my blanket around your legs.”

Kaz glares. He can do it masterfully again: just like the limp snuck back as soon as he left the Little Palace, his face over the days grew thin and pockmarked. Vicious. Jesper’s commited it to memory, in case Oily, Tall and Dark steals it again.

“If you freeze to death tonight, this was all for nothing. I could be sleeping in a palace right now. Well, a dingy side house, with the other Materialniks, but joke’s on them. This whole escape would have been much more complicated if I’d been a Squaller. Or a Sun Summoner, who refuses to even use his power to warm us up.”

“Leave it.” Kaz runs a finger roughly over where his collarbone should be, and he shudders. The temperature, or something worse, some new pain he’s not revealing—but carefully, he leans his blanketed side against Jesper, and allows Jesper to throw his own blanket over him, too.

“I’ll make you a new cane tomorrow. With a head, too, if we can scavenge enough metal from the buttons. Not a crow. You haven’t earned that until we free Inej, but maybe… a worm.”

“That’s just a stick,” Kaz mutters. “Go to sleep.”

Easy for him to say: Kaz is taking the first watch, and so he’s not balancing on a fallen log in the cold without a blanket, trying to fall asleep sitting up while leaning against Kaz’ shoulder with as little contact surface as physically possible. After some hours or minutes, though, Jesper’s suffering is too much for even Kaz to handle. Who knew there was a limit! Who knew Kaz had heard of mercy! Maybe he just doesn’t like Jesper wriggling next to him. He fists a lock of Jesper’s curls and pulls his head down into his lap.

“I didn’t help you because I want to fuck you, just so you’re aware,” Jesper jokes, because this is actually—it’s actually almost comfortable curling up on the fallen tree with his head on the blanket on Kaz’ thighs, even though there’s the remnants of a branch digging into his hip and they’re on the run from all Grisha in the world and also the new, expanded Ravka that covers nearly every country on this continent and Inej’s still imprisoned and if they actually manage to get back to Ketterdam, Jesper’s going to be in so much shit. And still, it’s… “I mourned you, you know, when Haskell told me you’d died. I wasn’t just angry because the Dregs were a shambles without you.”

Kaz is quiet. Jesper sort of wishes he’d touch his hair again, or his shoulder—and he never seemed to have any trouble touching the Darkling, so what, is Jesper not good enough—but he also looked like a void back there, like in order to endure it maybe he had to smother—

“That’s not why I mentioned that fantasy back there,” says Kaz, lyingly. Sure. He just happened to invoke Jesper’s obvious past crush for no reason whatsoever. The awfully convenient infatuation Jesper didn’t have sense nor skill to hide back then. Kaz is exactly the kind of person who’d exploit someone’s first love. The person who’s realize, long before Jesper did, that maybe, he’s not actually completely over—but maybe that wasn’t the important bit then. It went on. And that story about the Darkling—

“You thought I’d help you out of pity?” Jesper would have done, if he hadn’t been so angry—if he hadn’t been already so freaked out by the placid expression, the clothes that looked expressly designed to torture the Kaz he knew, the cell… It wasn’t pity. What is it you feel when a person you knew—maybe not his secrets or his past or his thoughts or what trouble he just dragged you into because he’s a secretive dick, but still, you knew him, it was burned into your heart, his movements and the codes he taught you and just when a heist was about to trigger one of his fears he’d never mentioned and you needed to get him out now… What do you feel, when that person comes back from the dead, and comes back wrong. Like a stag with too many tongues inside its mouths and its hands locked behind its throat. Except the other way round, because Kaz Brekker was terrifying, and what he was made into or what pretended to be was only scary because it wasn’t. Anyway. Kaz is a manipulative commandeering asshole again, so it doesn’t matter. “You despise pity.”

“It’s a tool, just like everything else. One he couldn’t take. And pride just gave me—pity got me out of the Little Palace, didn’t it?”

“Something did.” Jesper tips his non-existent hat, and Kaz slaps the top of his head to make him stop wriggling. He keeps the hand there this time, knotted tight in Jesper’s hair. It stings, but it’s also… Jesper closes his eyes and tries to fall asleep before inevitably, it’ll leave.

“Pride. It was my fault.” Kaz’ voice almost sounds the way it did back home. Harsh, vicious—and damaged. Human. “I thought I could bear it. He was—the Sun Summoner could have no weaknesses, he said, nothing for our enemies to use, and I allowed myself to think… ‘our’ enemies. I practiced. It was easier, after a while, to bear touch. I thought—it seemed like the best option, to stand at his side, and to make him see me as his partner I should… I was tired of being a prisoner. I thought I could use him.”

That’s bad enough, but… “But you’re limping again,” Jesper hisses. “If he’s forming you like a clay doll to make you his perfect Sun Summoner, he should have started with healing you.”

“They did, when I first came to the Palace. I didn’t want—but I learned to accept it. After my first escape, he broke it again, personally. Had it tailored over, afterwards, every few days. Incentive for cooperation.”

There’s nothing Jesper can do to fix this stagnant, lifeless voice. He could hug Inej, at least, but this—

“It’s what I would have done, too. He was just better than me, and he didn’t need another one, so he had to change me.”

“By dressing you up and making you look like a doll. If you tell me it was a sex thing, at least I could—no, still couldn’t relate. His taste’s shit. That beauty was pretty ugly,” Jesper mutters into Kaz’ thighs.

Kaz pulls at his hair again—probably a rebuke, but the sting travels down Jesper’s spine to—well, it’s time to change the subject rather quickly. What’s there to… oh yeah, his head’s on a blanket. That’ll do. “I just had a great idea,” he says, and—yeah, his voice is still completely normal and steady. A little loud, maybe. Kaz hasn’t moved his hand away, though, so it can’t be too obvious.

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Fuck off, my bright idea of breaking into the centre of Grishadom to kill you in a murder-suicide attack because what else was I going to do, let the Dime Lions grind me between millstones to press out the fifty thousand kruge I may perhaps still owe them—”

“You what?!”

Jesper powers on, because that’s really a conversation best left for when he’s not lying in a forest with his head in Kaz’ lap and trying to forget, desperately, the way it felt when Kaz pulled his hair. The way it feels when he does it again. “I’m just saying, it saved you. You’re welcome. So anyway. We only have one pair of trousers. I was going to suggest we alternate wearing mine, but we both know I wouldn’t get them back.”

“Your so-called idea is… interesting,” Kaz mutters, voice almost pulled asunder trying for both disturbed and mocking. “But I’m far more interested to hear about the fact you skipped out of Ketterdam without paying your debts. A crime punishable by death in every gang. Every gang in Ketterdam, the city where you want us to go.”

And yeah, that’s occurred to Jesper, but… “That’s a problem for later. You’ll think of something, boss, if we make it that far. You always have a plan. For now… I wouldn’t—well, I would carry you if your legs freeze off, but it wouldn’t be fun for either of us, so… You sewed yourself up constantly back home, and I’d wager sewing is just like swimming. Once you know, you can never forget.”

“Skills are useless if you lack every materia—Jes—”

“Yeah, I definitely can turn a button into a needle now. We just need to tear the second blanket into some vaguely trouser-shaped pieces, and for thread—well, we could just tear up your Sun Summoner robe, it’s useless anyway.”

“Jesper,” Kaz rasps again.

“I’m a genius?”

“No, you’re still an idiot. Why not, though?”

☼

Kaz Brekker disappeared between Sunday and Tuesday night. That’s all Jesper knows, and it’s that precise only because Kaz has been experimenting with the payroll recently. Apparently, handing out wages on late Tuesday maximizes the chances of flushing as much money as possible back into the coffers of Dregs-owned establishments, and he’s also taken to handing out the money personally. Some weird power play that Haskell hasn’t yet forbidden: everyone knows Kaz barely bothers to keep his accomplices informed about the job they’re currently doing, and the big boss tolerates him mostly because Dirtyhands is still more useful insubordinate than dead.

It’s Wednesday now, though. Wednesday afternoon.

And Jesper still hasn’t gotten paid.

Kaz is gone.

Jesper’s in Haskell’s office, inquiring about everyone’s money. Too irritated by the games of Makker’s Wheel he was forced to miss out on last night to perform anything but the most pro forma I remember my boss’ boss is technically my boss and can kill me pleasantries. Instead of promising to kick Kaz’ ass, though, like Jesper hoped, Haskell just tells him Pasko will give him his wages tomorrow.

Haskell won’t say anything else. Just, “That boy got himself mixed up in something he couldn’t handle alone, and it fucked him. You won’t like what you find, when you go looking for the dead.”

#jesper fahey #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #kaz x jesper #I'm free! well sort of I have an idea for a coda in which jesper roleplays the darkling so.......#dimtraces makes things #shadow & bone #shadow and bone

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ghost-in-the-hella · 4 years

Note

If you are still taking prompts, and were so inclined, 47 for Gideon the Ninth!

I am always so inclined. Enjoy this... this thing. Gets a bit rude because, well, Gideon.

47. “You look like hell.”

---

“You look like hell.”

Gideon startles at the sound of Coronabeth Tridentarius actually speaking to her. She sounds more intrigued than judgemental, as if hell were an exotic travel destination she’s not yet been to but is eager to learn more about. Gideon is, not for the first time, grateful for her affected vow of silence as all possibility of coherent thought abandons her tongue. She would surely be a stuttering gay mess if she tried to speak to a woman as beautiful as this particular princess of Ida. With her feigned vow, she can still pull off the “strong but silent” affect and at least somewhat salvage the impression of being a suave badass who’s great with the ladies.

Or she could if she weren’t currently a panting, heaving, sweat drenched, bone dust coated, blood smeared, tattered mess.

It figures that Harrow doesn’t even have to be in the same room with Gideon to have completely ruined her game. Gideon draws herself up to her full height and squares her shoulders - fighting the urge to slump into an exhausted heap on the floor - and straightens her crooked aviators. She hopes that her face paint is still a badass skull and not a runny mess of gray; they’re not big on mirrors down in the facility. Her spine stiffens as Coronabeth steps toward her, smiling like they’re sharing a secret, and brushes one perfect hand lightly at each of Gideon’s shoulders, scattering fine chips of bone onto the floor.

“Poor thing,” Coronabeth purrs, locking Gideon in place with intense eye contact even through her shades. “Your necro’s really running you ragged, isn’t she?”

The last thing Gideon wants to talk about while a beautiful woman is touching her - actually touching her! Okay, touching the shoulders of her robes, but still! - is her screeching ferret of a necromancer. Her distaste must show in her expression even through the caked on layers of sweaty paint because Coronabeth chuckles prettily and squeezes her shoulder - Gideon tenses her sick delts reflexively, desperate to please - and gives her a conspiratorial smirk. “That’s alright. I won’t ask you to divulge any forbidden secrets about the Ninth House or the trials.” She runs clever fingers around the hem of Gideon’s hood - a rumpled heap around her neck, having fallen down as she heaved herself up the ladder from the facility in a hurry to get herself to a sonic - and winks suggestively enough that Gideon swallows hard. “She really must be putting you through the ringer. You know, I feel quite sorry for you cavs sometimes. So much is asked of you, and you get so little in return…”

Gideon has passed out. Surely, this must be what has happened. She’ll wake up in her nest of black blankets with a dirty magazine glued to her face by skull paint and drool, completely covered in sticky notes blackened with Harrowhark’s vitriol. Because it sure as hell feels like Coronabeth - Coronabeth Tridentarius, crown Princess of Ida, hottest necromancer this side of the funny books - is flirting with her. With her. Gideon Nav, indentured servant of the Ninth, perpetually demeaned cavalier primary to her lifelong nemesis, hottest cavalier in history to never touch a boob that wasn’t her own. With her stupid, itchy black robes that still smell faintly of Ortus Nigenad’s flop sweat no matter how many times they’re laundered, with her overgrown and uncombed hair all full of cobwebs and bone dust, with her half-melted face paint of a creepy fucking skull not quite concealing her latest acne outbreak. So there’s no fucking way that this isn’t some delightful dream inspired by too many titty mags before bedtime.

Coronabeth’s hand slides down from Gideon’s shoulder, gliding down the length of her arm - trailing over the firm roundness of her deltoid, the jaw-dropping perfection of her biceps, the corded extensor muscles of her forearms - down to seize her calloused hand with her own surprisingly strong one. “I think you deserve something in return. Don’t you?”

Okay. New thought. Maybe Gideon hasn’t passed out, but she’s probably going to if Coronabeth keeps touching her like this.

Gideon nods very carefully, trying not to let any drool drop from her mouth.

Coronabeth’s smile is as bright as Dominicus. She tugs Gideon’s hand and leads her down an unfamiliar hallway. Gideon follows obediently despite her necromancer’s warnings ringing in her head, shrieking at her to trust no one. Well, Gideon figures, if she’s a lamb being led to the slaughter, at least she’ll die happy. A girl’s holding her hand! Flirting with her! Smiling at her! Touching her muscles!

Much to Gideon’s surprise, she is not promptly jumped and flesh magicked to death upon entry to the Third’s quarters. In fact, as far as she can tell, she’s alone in them with Coronabeth. Sure, she had to offer up a bit of blood to the gross ward on the door, but she’s already bleeding a little bit from her adventures in the facility anyway so that’s no biggie.

She’s relieved to note that there are two big, ostentatious beds in addition to the smaller (but no less ostentatious) cavalier bed at the foot of one. If by some miracle she does get laid today, she’d really rather it not be in a bed that Ianthe Tridentarius has also slept or - God forbid - boned in. Coronabeth hustles her past the beds (dang) toward a large and opulent bathroom. “Here, get washed up.”

A fluffy purple towel is thrust into Gideon’s hands, there’s a gentle shove at her shoulders and the click of a door shutting, and suddenly Gideon is alone in the fanciest bathroom she’s ever seen. It’s even more ridiculous than the one in the Ninth’s quarters. She catches her own reflection in the mirror and finds that she looks every inch as confused as she is. “What the fuck?” she mouths to herself.

“I don’t hear washing happening!” comes Coronabeth’s mellifluous voice sing-songing through the door.

Gideon Nav fancies herself a remarkably strong person, the kind of person who could move mountains barehanded if she set her mind to it. Apparently, she has one fatal weakness: a beautiful woman telling her to do, well, literally anything. So Gideon obligingly scours the paint off her face - Harrow’ll be furious, but Harrow’s always furious and her paint’s a mess anyway - and inspects herself once more in the mirror. Sexy. Hot. Gorgeous. Little bit of acne at the hairline and around the left nostril, bit ruddy-cheeked from over-scrubbing, but still a flawless masterpiece of hotness.

She sniffs her armpits. Pretty sweaty. Are chicks into that? If they’re going to bone (please, please, please) then won’t she get sweaty again anyway?

Wait, are they going to bone? They are, right? They’re alone in Corona’s quarters, her terrifying sister and their insufferable cav have clearly been sent away, and Corona’s super hot and bossing her around and dragging her into her bedroom (well, through her bedroom to her bathroom, but still). If this were one of Gideon’s magazines she'd already be up to her wrist, or at least majorly winning at tonsil hockey. This is literally a textbook scenario for boning.

Okay, then. It’s on. So now what? Should she brush her teeth or something? Her breath’s probably pretty rank after the morning she’s had. Should she, like… shave stuff?

“You may draw a bath, if you like,” Corona calls through the door again. “Ianthe and Babs will be gone for hours. And something tells me that you have never been pampered.”

And so Gideon ends up taking the first ever bath of her life in the gilded bathtub of the Third. She can’t bring herself to fill the tub more than a couple of inches, even though from her skin mags and her comics she knows a bath is usually filled until the person in it is all but drowning, or at least until the bubbles are tastefully covering the good bits (comics) or just barely not covering them (skin mags). She does throw in several of the weird perfumy things hanging out around the tub at Corona’s urging. By the end of it, she’s pretty sure she’s dirtier than when she stepped in except that now she’s filthy with scented soaps and salts and glittery “bath bombs” (surprisingly not that violent but also surprisingly messy) instead of sweat and blood. She scrapes and scrubs at herself and then gives her body and her clothes a good shake out in the sonic for good measure. She borrows some toothpaste and uses her finger as a toothbrush, then rinses with borrowed mouthwash.

There’s a fluffy purple and gold robe that smells a bit like Corona’s perfume and seems the right size, so even though it’s a million miles off from her usual aesthetic she consents to shrug it on. It’s impossibly soft and warm and smooth. Stops a bit short on her thighs, but presumably that won’t get any complaints.

When she steps back out into the Third’s quarters, Gideon feels strangely vulnerable without her protective layer of filth. She smells like a stranger, and her fingertips and toes are wrinkled in a weird way that she assumes has to do with the bath bombs or maybe with how hard she was scrubbing. That, or she’s picked up some freaky skin disease from the Third’s bathtub. She hopes she’s not about to die or something.

Corona looks beyond delighted to see her emerge, ruddy and steaming, from the bathing chamber in her ludicrous little bathrobe. It’s a shame that it’s short on the leg coverage and heavy on the arm coverage, since Gideon’s legs are fucking awesome but not nearly as impressive as her guns. She wants to ask what Corona has planned for her now, but her stupid oath to Harrow stays her tongue. If all goes well, Coronabeth might have a better use for her tongue than words, anyway. So instead she stands there trying to look impressive rather than panicky and overstimulated.

“Come here,” Corona beckons with an elegant finger, her eyes glittering like shards of polished amethyst. Gideon’s pretty sure that Corona’s not using any necromantic tricks on her - she knows what that shit feels like by now, and it’s vastly unpleasant - but she follows her gesture as inexorably as if Corona were looping a leash of thanergy around her throat and dragging her closer.

And then Coronabeth Tridentarius is touching her. Like, pretty much everywhere. “Hmmm, let’s see,” she murmurs thoughtfully as she palpates what feels like every trembling inch of Gideon’s being (apart from the good bits, but maybe this is what foreplay is? she’s heard of it, but her magazines usually skip straight to the main event). Instead of trying to think, Gideon focuses on feeling, which is much more in her wheelhouse.

Corona’s nimble fingers carding through her damp red locks (they could stand a trim), fingernails sending tingles through her scalp as they scratch gently against skin that’s never been touched in kindness before. Fingertips trailing down the strong line of her jaw, gently seizing her square chin and turning her face to every possible angle, her gaze as palpable as her fingers. Strong hands (how does the Princess of Ida have actual calluses on her fingers?) testing her muscles, examining her hands and paying particular attention to her fingernails (they could also stand a trim).

“You look good in my robe,” Corona announces, taking a step back and allowing Gideon to breathe for what feels like the first time since she set foot in her quarters. “Gold suits you.” She locks eyes with Gideon and quirks her lips into a subtle smirk. “Gold suits you very well.”

Gideon swallows hard, trying not to gulp audibly and concentrating on not sweating through her borrowed robe.

“Much better than black. Not that you look bad in black, mind you, but there are other colors that would be much more flattering for your lovely complexion.”

She takes Gideon by the hand and leads her over to an over-decorated table that Gideon observes is overflowing with cosmetics. “For example… Hmmm… Plum?” Corona holds up a tube of something that’s a deep, bruised purple, examining its contrast with Gideon’s skin. “Or perhaps mauve…”

Coronabeth is insatiable. Gideon is left exhausted. When she finally emerges from the Third House’s quarters (very much not laid), hours have passed and she feels as if she has run a marathon. Not from any outward exertion, but from the effort of holding still and keeping silent throughout the whole ordeal.

She is perhaps the most sexually frustrated she has ever been in her life, having never been touched by a woman (and what a woman!) so much before, or really at all before unless she counts herself or the shriveled crones of the Ninth.

She is also… well. Made over. Her hair has been combed and styled, and it reeks of hair gel almost as badly as Naberius Tern’s does on an average day. Her nails have been trimmed, filed, and buffed smooth before being painted a soft lilac and accented with shimmering gold. Her face has been rendered utterly unrecognizable; Harrowhark would likely envy the sheer amount of makeup on it if only it were in the design of a skull rather than whatever peacocky nonsense Coronabeth’s done to it. She is, at least, in her own black robes despite Coronabeth’s best efforts to get her to borrow some of Babs’s gaudy frippery.

She suspects she has, in fact, been fucked by the Third after all.

She slinks down the hall as stealthily as she can manage, thanking her lucky stars that her necro is probably half-dead in a bone or buried up to her pointy little goblin ears in ancient books or possibly both rather than being a normal, decent human being who might give a fuck where her cavalier has vanished off to for hours on end with one of her greatest rivals. She’s hoping that everyone else in Canaan House will be equally preoccupied and that she’ll be able to return to the safety of her chambers with her dignity at least partially intact when she rounds a corner and nearly faceplants directly into the solid mass of Camilla the Sixth.

Gideon draws herself up to her fullest and most imposing posture and tries to mask her humiliation as best she can. Camilla observes her cooly, but Gideon swears her fellow cav is just barely holding back a laugh.

After a small but excruciating eternity in limbo, Camilla steps aside to let Gideon dart gratefully past. Camilla casts a few words over her shoulder as Gideon passes, and they follow her burning ears all the way down the hall and back to her quarters: “You look like hell, Nav.”

#prompt fill #prompt fic #ghost writes #prompt ghost #postfuguestate #gideon the ninth #GtN #gideon nav #coronabeth tridentarius #fanfic

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stenbrozier · 4 years

Text

Mixed Emotions (Teen!Bill Denbrough x Reader + Teen!Richie Tozier x Reader)

“Henlo! I couldn't find your masterlist ): so I don't know if you already did something like this, but could I request a hc where Reader is split between Bill and Richie, totally lost and confused because feels like they love both? If you're okay with it of course” - @beauregard-s

Plot: You’ve known Bill and Richie since you were kids, running around in their backyards and playing with water guns. As you grow older, you grow closer to them and involuntarily start to notice how absolutely lovely they both are. You don’t wanna destroy any friendships, but you also don’t wanna suppress your feelings any longer.

Warnings: Slightly NSFW (making out, groping), implied smut, mentions of smoking weed + drinking, a n g s t + swearing

A/N: I ended up making this a fic cause I had trouble with the headcanons, but I hope you still like it ❤️ Aged up to 17!!

——————————————————————————

Bill laughed loudly as Richie squirted you in the face with a water gun, causing you to drop yours and bring your hands immediately up to your face. You rubbed the water off of your face, trying to rub the sting out of your eye as well but not realizing you were making it worse until it hurt so bad you started to cry. Richie dropped his gun first, coming over to help you get whatever it was out of your eye.

“(Y/N/N), I’m sorry,” he said, his high pitched voice ringing in your ears as you tried to thrash and pull yourself away from him. “Bill, go get Mommy.” Bill ran through the backyard, banging on the glass sliding door before Mrs. Tozier appeared at it and wiping her hands on her apron. She opened the door, and Bill grabbed her hand, pulling her to where you were.

“Mommy,” Richie yelled loudly as he pointed at you, still crying and wiping your eyes. Mrs. Tozier ran right to your side, gently prying your hands away from your eyes as she saw the redness that took over your eye.

“Okay, Honey, can you blink?” she asked as you nodded, still blubbering as she softly blew into your eye. After a few minutes, you were able to blink without it stinging and your sniffling had stopped.

“Richie, you’re mean,” you mumbled as you pulled away from Mrs. Tozier going to sit next to Bill on the little porch swing they had. Mrs. Tozier has offered you and Bill to come over for a play date, and you guys usually loved being with one another and nothing and ever happened; however, Richie was being a bit of a “meanie”, as you would call it, and had shot you with a devilish grin on his face. His mom had him in time out, sitting on the stool at the corner of the porch while you cuddled up to Bill on the swing. You guys swung a bit, trying to sneak a conversation with Richie while his mom counted down the minutes of his punishment while she made you guys dinner.

Mrs. Tozier poked her head out of the glass door and curled her finger in a “come here” motion. She whispered something in his ear, patting his shoulder as she slipped back inside. Richie sprinted over the swing, hopping on it and causing it to rock back into the house, a smile dancing on his lips. He threw his arms around you as the swing swung back and forth, mumbling “I’m sorry” over and over again into your neck until you accepted his apology. You stayed snuggled up to Bill, and Richie wrapped himself around you. Bill’s stomach rumbled, and you giggled at the weird, moaning sound it emitted.

“You g-guys are my b-best friends,” Bill confessed after the fit of giggles that you set off. You smiled up at him, hugging him closer as you felt Richie reach his arms around to hug you both.

———————

You and Richie sat on that same porch swing, now 17, getting ready to live your last summer together before college. You had slept over the night before to avoid the inevitable chores your parents would’ve given to keep you away from the Losers, the friend group that had been growing ever since you were five. They didn’t like the most recent additions, addition being Bev and recent being about four years ago, and they only really liked the four original boys that you’d met through the playground and school. Bill, Richie, and you had known each other since diapers because of your moms meeting at the park while you were all playing. Stan and Eddie were the two you had acquired in kindergarten, noticing their reluctance to reach out. You decided to reach out to them, Bill and Richie tagging along and getting closer to them than you were.

However, making new friends had never separated the original trio. You and Richie were inseparable still, his outgoing personality a perfect match for yours. He had grown up a lot over the years, towering over you, and everyone, at 6’3 with skinny arms and legs. His face had thinned out and his chiseled cheek bones made every girl fawn over him, though none of them cared to admit it. None of them but you, that is.

You had developed a crush on him over the years. Truly, you think it’s more of you just finding him super hot and wanting to make out with him once or twice, but you still thought that there was some sort of attraction there. You knew that you wanted something with him, but you didn’t know what. You were pulled out of your thoughts with Bill sitting on your opposite side of the swing, throwing an arm around you and kissing the crown of your head. You looked up at him, his soft green eyes meeting yours.

Now, Bill was the one you knew you had a crush on. He had been your rock for so many years, had given you so much hope and love that you didn’t know what to do with it. When you were younger, you had always kinda liked Bill: the 5’7 boy with pretty green eyes and wispy brown hair that held you while you cried and let you stay over his house for weeks at a time. Everything with Bill was always so domestic feeling, while everything with Richie was fast paced and “live fast, die hard.”

You sat in between them both, shutting your eyes and leaning your head back as you basked in the soft breeze and low humidity. Suddenly, you heard the crash of the Tozier’s metal gate hitting the fence right next to and it jolted you out of your comfort. Bev and Eddie walked in first, Eddie mumbling to himself about the heat as he slathered on what looked, and smelt, like sunscreen.

“What the fuck,” Richie said loudly as he gestured towards the fence where Mike and Ben were walking in from. Ben closed the gate softly and you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Where’s Stanny?” you asked, looking around confused as Eddie shrugged his shoulders. From beside you, Bill began to speak.

“S-stan said he’d be a b-b-bit late. H-his dad nee-needed him to r-run some err-errands.” Everyone nodded, taking their seats on the wooden porch as you scooted closer to Bill so Eddie could squeeze in next to Richie. Richie looked over at Eddie with a look of adoration, and you stifled a laugh. Of course Richie loved Eddie and not you. It might’ve made your heart sink a little in your chest, but it was easier for you to now decide who to go after.

Or so you thought.

That night, after drinking and getting high in Richie’s backyard while his parents were away, you couldn’t stop thinking about his dark, curly hair or Bill’s nonstop attention on you. You had slept over Richie’s again, not wanting your parents to see you so inebriated. Richie was still wearing off the effects of his high, cuddling up to your side as a movie played on the VCR that his parents had in the living room. He was rambling on about how pretty everyone had looked today.

“Did you see Eds’ hair?” he asked incredulously. “It was so blonde today. Maybe it was the sun, but...” He snuggled closer to you, his head finding it’s way into the crook of your neck. Your heart raced at how close he was. Yeah, you guys had cuddled before, but this just felt different. You were about to reach out and grab his hand, but then soft snoring filled your ears.

“Fuck,” you mumbled, feeling his hands move to splay over your hip and pull you closer. You were in deep, for the both of them.

——————

The loud party music from inside the house made you whine as you cuddled into Richie’s side, one of his arms around you and the other around Eddie. Richie looked down to you at the small noise, rubbing your shoulder and covering your other ear as he realized you were sensitive to the sound.

“Richieee,” you whined loudly as you clawed at his chest. “Take me home.” You gave him puppy dog eyes as he shook his head, making you pout in despair.

“I can’t just take you home,” he said softly into your ear, leaving a kiss on your temple before continuing to talk. “Eds and Bill need a ride home, too, and only Mike and I have cars.”

You looked over to where your tipsy mind last remembered seeing Mike, and he was still over there, watching over the very drunk Stan and Bev, both of which who were screaming along to the music. Bill was with them before noticing you looking in that direction, and he staggered over to you. He sat down next to you, pulling you from Richie’s grasp and holding you in his lap. Your arms went around his waist, and you stuck your head into his neck.

“Y-you tired, (Y-Y-Y/N)?” he asked softly, seeming almost sober. He hadn’t had anything to drink that night, but he did have a joint or two and his eyes were a pinkish color. “We sh-should get R-Rich to take us ho-ho-home.”

“I already tried,” you said with a bite in your voice, sighing as you snuggled into him. “He’s just being an asshole.”

“L-let’s walk h-home,” he said softly, standing up before leaning down, motioning toward his back. You shook your head ‘no’, Bill’s face falling slightly at your rejection. “O-okay, then. Y-you just g-gonna wait for R-Richie?”

“Yeah, I was gonna sleep over again,” you mumbled softly, sighing when you looked into his sad green eyes. “My parents can’t see me like this.”

“Y-yeah, I-I guess th-they c-c-can’t,” Bill answered, giving you a tiny wave before going around to the Losers and saying his goodbyes. Your eyes met his again as he walked out the side gate of the yard, slamming it behind him as his shoulders slumped. Richie tapped your shoulder, opening his arm and letting you snuggle into his side. Eddie has run off to dance with Bev and Stan, and you snickered at him tripping over his own feet.

“Why’d Bill leave?” Richie asked you, looking down at you before running his hand over the top of your head and kissing your forehead gently.

“He said that he wanted to leave,” you said back, leaning up into the kiss, the slight upward movement with you head cause your brain to feel like it sloshed around in your skull. You groaned, cuddling into Richie again as he sighed.

“I’ll go get Eddie.” He squeezed your waist before standing up and walking over to a stumbling Eddie. Stan and Bev came running up to him with Eddie, Stan fussing with the collar of Richie’s shirt. A few minutes later, Eddie was trailing behind Richie with a pout on his face and a hand on Richie’s shoulder, steadying himself. Richie picked you up by the waist, holding his arm there until he could get you to the car. You weren’t completely drunk anymore, the three or four beers had started to wear off, but you were still a little high from the joint or two that Bill had smoked near you and blew into your face.

“Rich?” you mumbled as he got into the car, checking the backseat to make sure Eddie was okay while you sat next to him in the passenger’s seat. He hummed, looking back at you with a tiny smile on his face. “Can I sleep with you in your bed tonight instead of on the couch? So we can cuddle?” He chuckled lightly, nodding his head and placing a hand on your thigh to gently squeeze it.

“Of course, doll,” he answered back softly, pulling away and starting the car. He drive to Eddie’s first. His mom was away for the week so that meant he could let loose a little and not worry about consequences.

“Bye Eds,” you said with a soft smile, Richie helping him inside. You could see Eddie’s bedroom light turn on, and you knew that Richie was helping him get ready for bed in a calm manner. You knew Richie wouldn’t have left him there by himself because of how caring and loving he was towards his friends, but Eddie didn’t like sleeping at other people’s houses besides Bill’s. You sat and watched the lights in the house turn on and off as Richie went into a left other rooms, probably getting Eddie water and Aspirin for the morning. A few moments later, all the lights shut off, and the front door opened, Richie’s lanky body walking out of it with a bit of a tired limp. He came into the car, sighing and sitting down in the driver’s seat.

“He’s tiring when he’s drunk,” Richie said with an exaggerated sigh, looking over at you with a smile on his face. You smiled back, noticing the glimmer in his eye when you did. He traced his eyes over your body quickly, not caring that you knew he was doing it. He sighed heavily, turning around in his seat and starting the car back up, putting his hand on your thigh and squeezing. You cleared your throat, looking down at his hand.

“R-Richie-“ He cut you off with a chuckle.

“I see the way you look at me,” he said softly, turning the corner onto his street. “The cuddling, the eyes. It might not mean more than just you think I’m attractive, which is fine, but-“

“Richie, I have a crush on Bill,” you blurted out, watching the way his face went from confident to skeptical as he pulled up the front of his house.

“Well you’re staying the night,” he started, taking his hand from your thigh as you both got out. He came around to your side of the car, caging you in against it as you looked at him with wide eyes. Richie’s face was inches from yours, and he raised his eyebrows. “Can...can I-“

You didn’t give him the chance to finish before you leaned up and planted your lips onto his hungrily, the only illumination being the streetlight across the street that was flickering on and off incessantly.

“Inside?” you mumbled against his lips. He nodded, lifting you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist. One of his hands was kneading your ass, the other fishing for his house key since his parents were away visit Went’s parents for the weekend. He unlocked the door with you still in his arms, slamming it shut and running up the stairs before you even realized you were inside. Richie threw you on his bed, slipping off your shoes aggressively as he pushed his off.

“Mm, you’re so pretty like this,” Richie mumbled as he climbed on top of you, kissing your neck gently as he messed with the bit of your bra strap that was peeking out of your shirt. He hungrily kisses your lips as he reached under your shirt to undo your bra, earning a moan from you. He decided to pull off your shirt first, smiling at you as you sat up and raised your arms above your head. He admired for you for what felt like hours, eyes tracing down your body as he smiled gently.

“You gonna get me naked and fuck me, Tozier?” you teased, brining one of your hands up to softly run against his chest.

“You...you have a crush on Bill, though. I should...I should-“

“Don’t stop,” you begged loudly, tightening your legs around his hips. “I want you right now. Please?” Your puppy dog eyes had Richie melting immediately. He growled, ripping off his shirt before working on getting you naked, the whole time trailing kisses down your body, worshipping you.

“Are you sure?” he asked one last time, looking deep into your eyes as he massaged his hand over your side.

“Yes, Rich,” you begged, writhing underneath him. “Please.” He dove into your lips, kissing them and nipping at them, his hands roaming as you arched into his touch.

——————

You woke up to a soft creaking, and you felt arms tighten around you right after it. You looked up to see the underside of Richie’s face, his jaw clenching at the same sound that had awoken her.

“Rich, are you-“ Bev’s voice rang through the room and stopped abruptly, noticing you in bed with him. You jolted upright, wrapping the comforter further around you as Richie groaned at your sudden movement and Bev’s voice.

“I’m up, I’m up,” he said groggily, his arm still around your waist as he sat up with you. “Get out so we can get dressed.”

“W-we?” Bill asked as he barged into the room. His face dropped into a scowl when he saw you there, and he mumbled something to himself before walking out of the room. His pounding footsteps could be heard going down the staircase and out the front door.

“Can...can you guys wait for us outside?” you meekly asked, rubbing your hands over your face as you heard the retreating footsteps. “Richie, I fucking told you we shouldn’t have done this.”

“Babe, you weren’t complaining,” he says with a cocky tone. “Besides, it’s not like you’re dating Bill.”

You leaped out of his bed at that, grabbing your jeans and underwear off the floor and sliding them on. You searched for you shirt angrily, not being able to find it, so you went into his drawers and pulled out one. You threw it on, tying it up in the back since it was a little long. He came up behind you, softly placing his hand on your shoulder before you jerked away.

“I have a crush on Bill,” you said with a bit of bite in your voice. “Not you, Richie. Bill. And I can’t believe I slept with you!”

“(Y/N), you wanted-“ Richie’s voice was calm and collected, the complete opposite of your abrasive and loud voice.

“I fucking know I wanted it, asshole,” you screamed. “But I want Bill. I want everything with Bill. I’m sorry if you have feelings for me, but they’re not reciprocated.”

You grabbed your shoes from for the floor, slipping them on before you marched out of Richie’s house angrily, passing all of the Losers. Bill sat on the curb outside the house, and he gave you a sad look as you passed him.

“Wh-where are you g-going?” he asked confused, gesturing towards the others.

“Home,” you yelled back. “I’ll see you guys later.” You felt Bill’s eyes on the back of your neck as you walked away. The sound of Richie’s front door slamming made you look back again. You saw him run his hand through his hair as he searched for you, but by the time he had looked over to where you were walking, you had turned onto the next block.

#bill denbrough smut #bill denbrough headcanons #bill denbrough x reader #richie tozier smut #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier headcanons #mike hanlon x reader #beverly marsh x reader #ben hanscom x reader #eddie kaspbrak x reader #stanley uris x reader #it chapter one imagines #it chapter two imagines #masterlist

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fredweesleyismyslut · 4 years

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I’d Still Choose You - George Weasley x reader

A/N: this is a writing in response to this request, “Heyyy! Could you do a George weasley x reader where you, his girlfriend, is a super famous singer in the muggle world and she takes him with her to her meet and greet for the first time and he gets jealous and I imagine him being a bit insecure too about all the male fans being all over her?” I really hope I did you justice!! Anywho, my neck now hurts because I basically have the physical capabilities of a 50 grandma and my neck is super stiff from looking down at my keyboard. I really you guys enjoy this because I love writing for George! Also, hope you guys are staying well, remember to take care of yourselves because you all deserve to take up space on this earth don’t forget that. Writing at 12am for some reason makes me really sappy sorry guys, I’m just really tried so I’m gonna go curl in bed now haha.

Your legs were shaking slightly as you sat in the car with your boyfriend, your manager in the front seat doing the driving. “You alright, y/n?” George asked, placing his hand softly on your knee, “You’re about to drive a hole into the floor if you keep shaking your leg like that.” He chuckled softly as he kissed your forehead, “Yeah, I’m just so nervous this is the biggest fan meet I’ve had.” Taking a deep breath you forced your mind to focus on not shaking so much. “You’ll be fine your fans love you and I’ll be here the whole time,” George said, taking your hand in his, fitting like a puzzle. You could feel the slight callouses on his fingers from the times he played quidditch in school and making things with his brother, Fred. You had met Fred in your fifth year after a prank gone wrong that you had got caught in, and ever since then it’s been history. “I still can’t believe that you’re so popular amongst muggles… every time I see your pictures in the streets I get surprised.” “Alright, we’re almost there, y/n. Be prepared to run in there’s gonna be a big crowd.” You nodded, meeting eyes with your manager in the mirror, “We’ve got security outside waiting for you and inside just in case so don’t be too worried. Just enjoy yourself alright, you deserve this, y/n.” she smiled back at you in the rearview mirror, focusing on the road again as you pulled into the front of the building. The door slid open and there were two tall, suited men standing, one of them grabbed your hand to help you out as the other held his arms out on either side to prevent rogue fans. “Omg, y/n, I love you!!!” shouted a female voice as it got drowned out among the rest of the loud shouting along with flashes from cameras as you were rushed in, George fast on your heels trying to not be swarmed.

Once inside, you sat at the prepared station set up for you as George followed you to the back where you could get changed for the meet and greet. In the back, there was a group of boys, about seven of them who all stood up and gave a swift bow as one of the members walked up, “We’re just here to say hello, we had a photoshoot near here and heard you were having a meet and greet and couldn’t leave without saying hi to our favorite senior.” said the leader of the group, a tall boy named Daniel. They were a new rookie boy group signed under the same company as you, all tall and good looking, the exact type that drove most teenage girls into a wet dream. You smiled pulling him into a hug, “Why are you being so formal? Gosh, come on in you guys, stop acting like a stranger.” you said to the rest of the boys. They all crowded in, giving you bone-crushing hugs, “George this is the new rookie group I’ve been working with, they’re amazing.” you said, to your boyfriend who was standing quite awkwardly to the side, as you pulled the youngest member into a hug, “You’ve grown taller since last time, Jin.” you gasped as you stood on your heels to ruffle his hair. “Stoppppp. I worked hard on it this morning,” he whined, softly pouting his lips as you smiled wider. “Oh so now that you’re taller I can’t admire your hair, ugh boys are always like this you give them all your affection and suddenly they don’t want it anymore.” Daniel laughed as he smacked the youngest’s shoulder as he put his arm around your shoulder, casually leaning. “When are you gonna treat us to dinner? You keep making promises but you don’t actually do it...I mean I get that you’re the new hot thing right now but you can’t just forget about your juniors like that.” You laughed wholeheartedly as you punched his shoulder, “You know it’s not like that….hmmmm how about tonight after the meet and greet I don’t have any plans, you guys?” He nodded, looking to his members for agreement, “Okay, we’re holding you to that, right boys!” They all shouted in agreement as they gave one last bow and walked out of the room to go see their manager. You were about to turn to George and talk with him until your manager walked in, “Y/n we’ve gotta hurry, come on hair and makeup are waiting.” You nodded, going to kiss George on the cheek but he pulled away slightly, smiling down at you. Pretending to not notice the action you squeezed his hand, walking out, Maybe he was just tired from the ride?

After hair and makeup, you walked out, the large crowd screaming as you sat in the chair. Slowly but surely each fan got up to get signatures from you and given a quick hug and picture. George watched from the corner where he could see the crowd but the crowd couldn’t see him. Most of your fans tended to be teen boys, in a row, a couple of boys walked up, clearly nervous as they fanboyed, “Omg I love you!” The next fan, also male, came walking up, and before reaching you got to his knees and bowed down, “My queen!” he shouted, as you crouched to the floor as well, “Oh my! No, don’t get your pants dirty because of me.” you said, dusting off the knees of his pants before sitting back down. There was one male fan, his deep voice shouted through the crowd, “Y/n Y/l/n you criminal!!” you looked up shocked slightly, mouth agape as he continued, “You stole my heart you, thief!!!! I want to marry you!!” You started laughing, not sure how to respond, half from surprise as you responded, “Bring the documents, then I’ll meet you in court!” A loud content shout echoed the walls as he shouted out, “Yessss!!!!” Laughing you signed more albums before finishing up the meet and greet and stood up, giving a last bow to the crowd and waving before walking backstage. Walking into your waiting room you looked around, “That was one heck of a crowd” you said until you realized no one was in there. You found your manager, “Do you know where George went?” she nodded, “I think he went outside, last time I checked.” Nodding you followed the direction she pointed you in, finding George sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, picking at the grass near his feet. “Something wrong?” you asked sitting down next to him, “Was it just too much noise?” George looked up, shaking his head softly, “Did I do something wrong, Georgie?” you asked pushing his hair away from his face. “I-I just forget how important you are sometimes in the muggle world.” he stopped for a second, trying to form words, “I just feel as if...as if I’m not enough for you. I mean you’re this big superstar and I own a joke shop with Fred.” He continued picking at the grass, at this point, there was a pile of grass near his feet and you kind of felt bad for the grass as he continued, “You could have literally anyone else, like that Daniel guy, you two seemed friendly.” His gaze traveled to the ground as he picked a flower out from the ground, taking his hand in yours you smiled, “What’d the grass do to you?” Kissing his forehead and then each of his knuckles you continued, “I don’t want any of those boys, or Daniel ugh, they’re like younger brothers to me.” Pulling his chin up to face your gaze you continued, “I love you, George. I love that you opened a joke shop with Fred because you’re true to yourself. You guys made something out of yourselves I think that’s admirable.” Leaning closer you finished, “I don’t want anyone else, George, because even in this big ocean of eight billion people, I would still choose you in this life and the next. You got that?” His face brightened slightly as he nodded, you closed the space placing your lips softly on his, feeling the same butterflied you always get in your stomach when you’re near George. “I’d choose you too, y/n. You’re the only one for me, I love you.” Standing up, you held your hand out, “Now come on you mope, I got a promise to keep with those little squirts because I know good and well if I’m even a minute late they’ll use that to make me buy them extra food.” Laughing George stood, placing a kiss on the crown of your head, “Alright, alright, let’s go eat dinner then.”

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