#it can be light and life-giving at the same time

[sugxto]

brutalizer(s) - eddie/volt/reader

⋆syn: You decide to "challengers" your new boyfriends. It, uh, doesn't go as planned.

⋆wc: 3.3k

⋆cw: m/m/f threesome, light dom/sub undertones, erotic electrostimulation, some very very minor dacryphilia, spit sharing, choking.

⋆notes: takes place immediately after the love route, but can be read independently. g/n pronouns for reader, called "good girl" and afab genitalia. other e/v one shots.

⋆snippet:

“Thought you did something there, huh?” Eddie’s voice is low, it hits you somewhere deeper in your belly than it has before. The whiskey sours earlier certainly aren’t helping. “It’s cute, but, come on.”

Volt chuckles, his lips against Eddie’s cheek, and his white hot stare locks on to you too. “Very cute, indeed. Really, spark,” his lips curl into what you can only describe as something dastardly, “did you honestly think I don’t already know his lips better than my own?”

“We could do a Volt and Eddie sandwich.”

The corner of Volt’s smile twitches, and he turns to Eddie with raised brows, hands nonchalantly in his pockets. Eddie’s face is uncharacteristically pink, and he casts a knowing glance at Volt, and pushes himself off the bar. 

“Well, seeing as how we’re… closed for the evening,” Volt starts, his eyes traveling back to yours, “I think, something to that effect, can be arranged. Eddie?”

The ice that you’ve come to know in Eddie’s stare is gone, the new spark glittering in it instead. He looks more lively, more excited, more… confident?

“I… wouldn’t be opposed.” His eyes rake over your body, as if finally allowing himself to fully drink you in the same way he drinks his whiskey sours. “It’s been a while since I’ve been up to… enjoying myself.”

Oh, they’re serious. 

I mean, you were serious too, but, right now? Right after they’ve just, essentially, come back to life?

But, who were you to turn down a good time?

You clear your throat. “Uh, here? In the club?”

Eddie scoffs, because you already knew the answer. “Absolutely not. No sex in the bar, that’s the one rule.”

“It’s not really a rule -”

“Volt.”

“Fine, fine, not here. Not tonight, at least.”

“Volt -”

“We live upstairs, a flat sort of thing.” Volt holds out his hand to you, want apparent in his gaze. “Shall I lead us there?”

You take his hand, that same spark from the first night surging up your arm, and you feel a second hand, strong and rough, at the small of your back as you head up the stairs. 

You realize, when you get to the bedroom, that you’ve… never done this before. Two. At once? Separately? How… exactly does this work. 

A thought sparks in your memory, of a movie you watched with Sam, where a girl swindled the two boys interested in her to kiss each other, and ya know, that’s something you might be interested in seeing. 

You’re all in the bedroom now, both of them eyeing you, expectantly, though not hurriedly. You giggle nervously, holding your hands to your heart. 

“I’ve uh, never done this before,” you admit. “Maybe, can I kiss you? And we can go from there?”

“Of course, darling. Whatever you want,” Volt cocks his head in Eddie’s direction. “I’ve already had the pleasure, so why not give Eddie a taste, hm?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and sighs. “Ignore him, he can’t help it.” He holds out his hand, and pulls you closer when you take it. “But, I wouldn’t say no.”

Eddie’s lips are different from Volt’s, more hesitant, but soft, and gentle as he learns your pace and the shape of your mouth. He tastes like a whiskey sour, and you just want to drink him down. 

Volt’s lips find your neck, and you notice he’s slipped off his shirt, and the air hums with the charge emanating off him. You lean into him, his strong arms, and Eddie pulls away to take off his own shirt as Volt smoothly whips off your dress. Eddie takes his turn at your neck, and the double dose of pleasure pulses like a current under your skin. 

You raise your hands, find their cheeks, and gently, oh so gently, you bring their lips towards each other, hoping they don’t notice it’s no longer you. You’ll only watch for a moment, you tell yourself, before you insert yourself back in. No one will be the wiser. As their lips touch, their eyes stay closed, and you step back to quietly sit on the edge of the bed. 

You watch their lips met with rapt attention, the ends of Volt’s hair sparking with each swipe of tongue you catch. Eddie’s teeth find the softness of Volt’s bottom lip, and a small sound escapes the back of your throat at the sight. 

You expected them to pull apart at the unexpected sound, to open their eyes and realize what they’d done (and, not a small part of you hoped, punish you for it).

So it’s a bit odd, you think, when their kiss deepens. When Volt’s large hand, his silver nails, find Eddie’s jaw, and swipe acros his stubble. When Eddie, in turn, half opens his eye, and a titanium stare finds you past Volt’s cheekbone.

Your heart hammers in your chest. This is either going to go better than you expected, or much, much worse for you.

You’re not sure which you’re hoping for more. 

Volt’s lips move to Eddie’s cheek, his jaw, exposing more of Eddie’s face to you - both his eyes, boring into yours. He’s barely hiding a smirk. 

“Thought you did something there, huh?” Eddie’s voice is low, it hits you somewhere deeper in your belly than it has before. The whiskey sours earlier certainly aren’t helping. “It’s cute, but, come on.”

Volt chuckles, his lips against Eddie’s cheek, and his white hot stare locks on to you too. “Very cute, indeed. Really, spark,” his lips curl into what you can only describe as something dastardly, “did you honestly think I don’t already know his lips better than my own?”

Oh.

Oh for amps sake. 

Because, actually, no. That thought hadn’t occurred to you. Why hadn’t that thought occurred to you? I mean, come on, there’s only one bed!

Your mouth goes dry, your jaw goes slack, your eyes zinging back and forth between pure white and pure steel. You’re caught. You’re so caught. 

“I, uh,” you start, but you’ve lost that bravado. “I never want to assume.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, Volt’s thumb rubbing over his bottom lip. He pecks it softly. “Right. How thoughtful.”

“This is what you were wanting, though, was it not, live wire?” Volt purrs as he extricates himself from Eddie’s side, taking a step towards you in a way that reminds of that tiger feeding you once saw at the zoo. Like a predator. Stalking. Possessive. 

Oh fuck, you think. You’ve just fed yourself to the tigers. 

Volt’s hands are on either side of the bed next to your hips. Caging you. You can feel the sparks from his hair, the charge in his skin. “You wanted all three of us to enjoy ourselves, yes?”

You nod, and you see a flash of his canine teeth as he smiles.

“Exactly. And we most certainly will. But,” his jagged eyebrows lift, “you thought you could have an upper hand. And, it absolutely delights me to say, you won’t be having that.”

Rough hands are on your shoulders, and you’re shoved down onto the bed, Eddie’s unruly coils dangling over you. 

“Eddie, where did you -” you breathe, but one of those calloused hands is on your throat, squeezing just enough to silence you. Eddie’s grey eyes have darkened. Hunger, you think, he’s hungry.

Familiar sparks singe your inner thighs, but you can't lift your head to see what else Volt is doing - you can only feel the currents under your skin as his fingers find the crotch of your panties, pulling them only a little. Eddie only watches your face, how your brows furrow at the teasing, your eyes pleading for something he can’t give. Your hand comes to his wrist, not pushing him away, but needing to touch him more. 

“Eddie,” you breathe, feeling the weight of his hand on your neck. “Eddie please -”

“Do I look like the one you should be talkin to?” His brows lift, his stare curious. “Ya know, I don’t even really think you’re in a position to be talkin, period. Volt?”

You feel the man in question hum over the cloth of your panties, already hot, and the literal electricity isn’t helping. “I think I can occupy them, if you can keep them quiet.”

Keep them quiet?? Your eyes widen, but Eddie only chuckles. “My pleasure.”

With limited movement, you’re only acutely aware of what Eddie does with his other hand, until you hear the zip of his fly, the rustle of fabric, and -

Oh, fuck. 

Eddie’s cock is gorgeous, veiny in a way that reminds you of the wires he adorns, the head already leaking with pre. You lick your lips, staring at just a few inches over your face, and god, Eddie’s not the only hungry one. 

“Fuuuck, Eddie,” you moan, bringing your hand up to try and touch it, but the hand around your throat moves faster, leaving its mark to grab at your wrist this time. 

Eddie tsks his tongue. “Not so fast, live wire. Volt wants me to keep you quiet.” His other hand finds your cheek, stroking softly. “So, open your mouth, hm?”

The heat between your legs is getting unbearable, and you whimper when you feel Volt move the scrap of fabric to the side. “Yes, Eddie,” you manage, opening wide and offering your tongue. 

His cock is so hot as it finds your mouth, the soft tip and drops of pre languishing over your tongue, you can’t stop your lips from wrapping around his length as he presses in further, further -

A zap to your clitoris makes your hips buck in surprise, and your eyes shoot open - you see nothing save Eddie’s balls above your nose, and another zap elicits a squeak from your full mouth. 

Volt’s laugh is feral, his breath burning on your thighs. “Liked that, my little spark? Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty of charge for us.” His thumb presses almost delicately to your bud, making the smallest of circles, testing, learning. “Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.” His thumb dips lower, finding your entrance already wet, waiting. “I simply must have a taste.”

His tongue is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before - Ben-Hwa’s vibrations are incomparable to the literal electricity that is swiping over your lips, your hole, your clit - it’s mind-blowing. It’s explosive. Volt works you almost too expertly to be believed, and your brain short circuits when a finger slips inside. 

Eddie groans as he feels you moan around him, your hips wanting to buck, but one of Volt’s forearms keeps your hips pressed to the bed. You’re pinned, caged, at the whims of these two men, and it’s making you ache. 

Faster than you can remember happening before, your belly coils with tension, your climax growing completely outside your control. Volt feels it too, he must, because he devours you with fervor, two fingers moving at an impossible pace inside you. It builds and builds and -

You see sparks as you cum, as your hips fight against Volt’s hold, as you struggle for something solid to hold to. Your skin tingles, you’re absolutely buzzing, you’re a -

“Mm, live wire,” you hear Volt’s smile as he says it, and he presses a kiss to your clit - it makes your leg shake unconsciously. “You are just too fun.”

You whimper, your body jello, your focus on keeping Eddie’s cock inside your mouth, but you feel him retreat, and whimper again at the loss. 

Eddie strokes your cheek again, and you feel Volt climb onto the bed, sitting by your side. His touch slinks up your torso, the side of your breast, your bicep, trailing sparks the whole way. 

He hums contentedly. “Good girl for taking Eddie so well, he says, and you flush, and watch him glance up at Eddie, who's sitting back on his knees. “And good boy keeping them quiet, Eddie.”

Eddie’s sigh sounds a bit amused. “You haven’t said that shit in a while.”

“Well, I mean it.”

“Uh huh.” Eddie’s hands reach for the back of Volt’s neck, pulling him closer. “Lemme taste, yeah?”

Volt’s chuckle is cut off by Eddie’s tongue swiping over his lips before pushing inside his mouth, and god, what a sight for sore eyes. The men pull at each other, teeth clashing, and in your blissed out state, you can’t stop the moan that leaves your lips. 

Two sets of eyes stare down at you, two sets of lips curling into grins. “Oh, darling,” Volt purrs, “you want a taste too?”

You can only nod, and you will your body to lift yourself onto your elbows to meet them halfway. You watch them share a look, and your arms tremble. 

“Open, then.”

You cock your head. ��What?”

“Open. Your mouth,” Volt repeats, and you do, tentatively. 

“Very good.” Volt turns back to Eddie, pulling his jaw with his thumb, and Eddie’s mouth drops for him. Volt positions his lips above him, and a line of spit trails from his lips onto Eddie’s waiting tongue. 

These men. These men were going to kill you. 

Eddie hums, and as he bends down to you, his hand trails down Volt’s stomach. You press your legs together, the anticipation sparking back inside you. Your nails claw at the sheets when Eddie hovers a few inches above your head, and you press your tongue even further out. The spit travels from his lips and lands, cold, on your tongue, and your legs twitch, your fists clench.

“Swallow,” Eddie says, voice thick and gruff with lust. 

You do. 

And they pounce. 

You’re dragged up the bed, two sets of hands pulling and pawing. Somehow your bra is off, your panties are gone, you hear their pants hit the floor, and the temperature raises as more skin is exposed. You find yourself propped against the pillows, your back against Eddie’s stomach, Volt stomachs against yours, utterly pressed between them. 

“Feel good, spark?” Volt says, his hand at your waist. “Your sandwich living up to expectations?”

You giggle, realizing this was, in fact, exactly what you’d asked for. “Absolutely.”

“Good,” Eddie grunts, his lips on your earlobe. 

“We do aim to please.” Volt squeezes your side, grinding his hips against you, his length hard, pressing insistently at where your thighs press together. 

“I’ll make sure to leave a -“ you gasp when Eddie’s teeth graze your neck, “a, fuck, glowing Breaker Box review.”

Volt’s grin is back to dastardly, and he grinds his hips harder against you. “Let’s ensure five stars, shall we?” 

His hand moves from your hip to your thigh, a spark running down your leg as he lifts it and throws it over his thigh. His cock is pressed against your stomach, and another pair of hands reach around to cup your breasts, and now Eddie’s cock slots between your cheeks. 

“Now, spark,” Volt’s voice is low, honeyed, and Eddie’s bites to your neck aren’t helping the buzz in your head. “Who do you want first?”

Best sandwich you’ve ever had. 

“I, I have to choose?” You mumble out, barely able to form a sentence as Volt’s eyes study your face. Eddie groans, pinching your nipple to elicit a gasp from your lips. 

“Mm, darling, we’ll work our way to not having to.” His fingers dance along your thigh, and Eddie’s cock slides along your skin. “Patience, for now, however. We wouldn’t want to break you on our first outing.”

Oh, but maybe you did. 

You swallow, the wires of your mind completely disconnected. “Volt, I, I can’t. I can’t choose.” How could you? Between two perfect, adoring, electrifying men, that wanted you more than the currents in their bodies? It wasn’t fair, surely. They were one, they were yours, but you couldn’t choose.

Volt’s lips turn to a pout, but it doesn't reach his eyes. “Oh, poor wire. Feeling frayed?” He tsks his tongue when you nod. “Alright, no more choosing tonight. Let us take care of you, hm? Just close your eyes.”

You do, and he again lifts your leg, granting full access to anyone wanting your hole. You ache, the air charged and your lips dripping with want. You feel both of them pull away from you slightly, no longer able to feel their lengths, and you whimper from the loss of -

An intrusion of your entrance makes you cry out in surprise, and slowly, terribly, intensely, you’re being filled, and it’s like a fire has been lit inside your cunt, under your skin, in your heart. It burns, deliciously, beautifully. You eyelids flutter when the cock bottoms out, and a familiar, rough hand is suddenly covering your eyes. 

“You,” Eddie groans in your ear, “you, fuck me, feel perfect, spark.” His breath is ragged, and you curse when he thrusts, once, twice. “Oh fuck, oh, baby.” He says it reverently, lovingly. Your heart is going to burst out of your chest. 

A new hand finds your nipple, a zap bringing it to attention. “How does he feel, our spark? Doesn't his cock feel like it’s going to split you in two?”

In another state of mind, you might want to linger on the implications of that question. But yes, in fact, as Eddie’s thrusts became more frantic, the possibility of you splitting at the center did seem more likely. If Volt holding up your leg was the only thing centering yourself. 

Just as soon as you feel your climax building inside you, you’re empty, Eddie sliding out of you, and you grip around nothing, moaning at the emptiness. 

“No, no, Eddie, please!” You manage out before the hand on your eyes slips down to cover your mouth. The callouses on his hands are harsh against your lips, and you barely manage out a moan of protest before something new slips inside you, long and hot and slipping in so nicely. Moans of protest quickly turn to acceptance, and Volt’s cock is just so easy to accept. 

“Oh sweet amp.” Volt’s usually collected voice is shaky as he works his way inside you, taking his time much to your distress. “Live wire, I - we -”

“You,” Eddie breathes in your ear, “you might’ve been made for us.”

Ah. 

That’ll do it, then. 

You hardly even feel the build up, the spiringing coil, all you know if you’re cumming, you’re gushing without abandon on Volt’s cock, and tears spring to your eyes when they both curse, and Volt’s pace quickens. Eddie’s hand leaves your mouth, finding your neck again, controlling your air like he controls the very power of your home. Your body is slack, offering neither of them resistance, given over to the fire inside your belly, the weight of their hands, their control of your cunt. 

You feel Volt slip out, and now Eddie is back inside you. The tears spill over your cheeks, and an electric tongue licks them up. Almost as quickly as you adjust to Eddie, he’s gone, and Volt is back, then Eddie, then Volt, until you’re no longer cognizant of the difference. 

Eddie’s breath is erratic. “I’m, fuck, I -”

“Me too, darling,” Volt huffs. “Where -”

“S, stomach,” you moan. “Both, both, please.”

You’re on your back, your body liquid, but you open your eyes enough to watch their hands find each other’s lengths, pump once, twice, and then groan together as their cum lands on your skin, singeing like the flame of a candle. 

It’s a haze, what comes after. They’re kissing your cheeks, tucking your hair, singing what you guess are your praises in your ear. Volt’s voice is distant, but you hear how he calls you a good girl, while Eddie wipes away their spend with a towel from his discarded pants. 

You’re between them again when you return to earth, kisses peppered on your shoulder, tingles along your arms. It’s better than any dream, but somehow, you know it won’t disappear. 

“Back with us, spark?” Eddie whispers when your eyes flutter open. 

You smile softly, hum contentedly. “Always.”

“Very good,” Volt’s lips press to your collarbone. “You took everything beautifully, live wire. Our good girl. Our spark.”

You sigh, rolling onto your back, and find their cheeks with your hands. “You boys,” you smile, gaze flicking between them. “I love you.”

Steel meets white, then both meet you. “We love you too, little wire.”

[iceemochaa]

WHO KNEW?

Remmick X Reader

A/N: Heyyyyyy, did somebody ask for Remmick Riding Fic??

I want to say thank you to my pookie @fuckoffbard for giving me this idea. She gave me her blessings to write something that was self indulgent and I wanted to deliver it with love. It took me a while to write and I’m so glad I kept picking at it until it all made sense on paper. Lemme go finish my other 5 fics now. Enjoy :)

Warning: MDNI, No use of name or Y/n, reader insert, Reader isnt described, Riding, fem Reader, AFAB, Creampie, slight breeding if you squint, slight blood play, kissing, kissing with blood, Remmick uses his claws maybe once or twice, cursing, dirty talk, P in V (lowkey what’s the difference), Remmick cries cause I love men being pathetic. Slight Cervix fucking if you squint. If you see any grammar or punctuation mistakes, no you didn’t :)

Word Count:3.6 k

The rapid beats of your heart echoes through your ears, your lips begging for you to stop chewing so harshly. It's only been a few short minutes since Remmick had worked his hands all over you— Freeing you of your clothing, tossing them carelessly in a pile somewhere. He whispered dirty things that he promises he’ll do to you— Soon, later, it didn't matter. All you knew was that Remmick was a man of his words.

He had you pressed against him, chest to chest so that he could breathe you in, Rub his scent right against yours. There's light red hickeys along your neck and arms— something Remmick did when he got all worked up, sucking your skin in his mouth to keep from inserting his fangs. Sometimes he went a little overboard, applying too much pressure until your skin underneath turned a deeper shade.

Currently you looked like a painter's canvas that was going through the rough draft stage; Hints of purple and shades of red painted all over your body. You didn't mind— You liked how considerate he was, never too hard but enough to make you feel, even if you did want him to go further.

For now, This was fine.

When he was done marking your body, soothing kisses placed above the marks— feeling almost satisfied, He tossed you on top of him and got real cozy under your weight. He used his slick tone and smooth voice to ask a simple question that left you paralyzed. A question that your brain has been mulling over and over. It wasn't anything bad— well, maybe to you but Remmick hasn't stopped smirking. He looked like a shark, all teeth and beady black eyes and you were the unfortunate fish that was soon to be his dinner.

“Why don't you Ride me darlin’? .” He said with such an enthusiastic drawl.

Since then you've been in a state of panic. Sure, you've done a lot of things with Remmick that you're too embarrassed to admit out loud but your body still reacts the same— it tingles and gets all warm and mushy when he has you pressed against him, with deep kisses lingering on your lip but this? This right here with your full weight sitting on top of his lap is too much.

“What if I hurt you?” you say in a small whisper but Remmick can hear you just fine. He simply looks at you with a hungry stare, He’s watching you, trying to gauge your reaction. Its the look he usually does when he devotes his full attention to you, shifting ever so slightly under.

“Hurt me? Darlin’ you could never.” he chuckles, tracing soothing circles on the side of your hip but then he quickly adds in, “Trust me, I've been through worse.”

“What's worse than this?” You ask, curiosity getting the best of you.

Remmick stops drawing circles to pinch the fat of your thigh lightly, “Besides burning in the sun?” he takes a few seconds to really search his brain for all the times he had to either catch prey or defend his life. Some of those moments really took a lot out of him, sometimes he couldn’t move for days but there was one thing that still gets his brain turning and his teeth aching with burning rage.

“...Maybe being hit with a guitar.”

A singular brow raises against your forehead. “Is that really true?”

“Now your tryin’ to change the topic.”

“Remmick, please, don't make me do this.”

“m’not making you do anythin’,” his says so innocently, making sure to sprinkle in an extra thick southern accent that gets your mind racing. “I'm just enjoying the view from down here, is all.” he says, “If you want to do something then your free to do as you please.”

”O-Oh okay…”

Sensing your hesitation, Remmick shifts your weight so he can sit up, his face only a few inches away. He plants a kiss right against your cheek, it's short and sweet, nothing but burning love flowing. He adds more, moving his lips lower until it reaches your collarbone then he stops to look at you once more through hooded eyes. “You don’t need to be nervous around me, sugar.” He says against your skin then shifts his head back up so his breath can fan against your face. “We've done far worse.” he says plain as day, the worse being even more freakier things he likes to suggest.

“I’ll gladly accept anything you do to me. You could never hurt me.”

“Are you sure?” You ask once more. Insecurity and fear was a glowing white beacon above your head. You believed Remmick, fully and completely, you just didn’t believe in yourself. What if you suck at it? What if he tells you that he changed his mind about this idea and shoves you off? What if he actually doesn’t like it and he fakes an orgasem? It sounds real childish but it could happen. You would rather indulge in those impossible sex positions he likes to purpose whenever he gets way too in his head.

You shake your head, hoping these feelings would somehow remove themselves from your brain. “You know what, maybe we can do this again later-“

Remmick clicks his tongue in slight annoyance, “Hold on now, Don’t give me that talk.” He chastises you but you can hear the softness in his tone. He wasn’t upset, not at all. An easy going smile, soothing hands, a soft hum. He wanted you to know that this was all fine.

Great even.

“Look, If you want,” he says in a sultry lilt, “I can do that thing with my tongue you like so much right after.”

Huh?

“You know, the one where I lick right up agaisnt-“

“Remmick, Shut up.” You sigh.

“Yes Ma’am.”

Well, here goes nothing.

To build some confidence you figured kissing would be a good start— It was easy and you didn’t have to think so hard about it. You wrap your arms around his neck, hands sliding into the back of his head to feel how soft his hair was. Remmick simply hums, leaning into the touch– almost like a cat. Slowly, You ghost your lips over his, your hand tugging his hair back just slightly so he was forced to look up at you. You can see something deep and primal in his eyes, like he was waiting for you to do this. Have him underneath you, have you take the lead.

You watch as Remmicks eyes glide across your face and slowly land on your mouth, his tongue peeking out to lick across his bottom lip like he was starving— He was always starving for you. You can tell by the way drool builds up in the corner of his mouth, his lips opening and closing like a fish. Like he needed air and the only air he wanted was you.

“Your drooling baby.” You note with a grin, observing the way it slowly drips down onto his chest. Remmick merely smirks, his hand coming up to cup your face in a soft embrace.

“That I am.” He says.

You press your lips right against his, You can hear Remmick breathing in your scent. His tongue pressing against your lips, asking for permission to taste you further. When you do let him in, he wastes no time to explore your mouth, his moan vibrating through you with sloppy sounds mixed with drool. Remmicks hand roams around your skin to keep him grounded. He was trying his best not to take control— have you take the lead but it was getting harder. You tasted so divine.

You glide both of your hands up his shoulders and push him down easily. He follows your lead without hesitation. Once you have him pressed against the bed, you finally break the kiss to plant light pecks on his cheek then slowly work your way towards his neck until you reach the shell of his ear. A low groan erupts from his throat when you suck his earlobe, your teeth working its way to tugging and nipping the shell of his ear soon after.

“Shit— where’d you learn that?” Remmick gasps softly.

“I have a good teacher.” You whisper in his ear, heat building on your cheeks, your nerves slowly turning into want and need— Enjoying the way the roles are slowly reversing. It’s usually him making you squirm and get all flushed but now he’s the one coming undone. You pull back to give him a once over, getting one more confirmation that this was 100% alright. Remmick simply nods his head.

“Well?” He says, “don’t stop now.”

You got this, you chant into your head over and over. He’s okay with it. It’s perfectly fine. Just move.

So you do.

You lift up to grab his weeping cock, feeling the way it burns in your hand. You heard a low groan shutter through the air— His chest starts to move quicker, his eyes growing wider, his fingers pressing deeper into your soft skin now. He didn't have to say anything but his body sure loves to talk— You can feel his muscle fidget under the palm of your hand that’s being pressed against his stomach, The growing anticipation too much to bear. You look towards him for any hints of discomfort, Maybe another confirmation that this was a totally bad idea but he's too busy watching the way his cock is getting closer and closer to where he really wants to be.

Okay, you got this.

He said it was fine, right? You take deep breaths, slowly guiding yourself down until the tip presses against your folds. You're already so wet, practically dripping due to Remmick playing with you earlier before this whole internal conflict started. He glides in so smoothly, entering into your warmth inch by inch. The pain of how big he is completely long gone and now masked with desire.

A small hiss slips from Remmicks mouth, his brows furrowing. “That’s it, nice and slow.” He says. It doesn’t take long for you to be fully seated on his lap now. His hard cock snuggled right inside, right where it belonged.

You stop suddenly, fear brewing once more. “I can’t- fuck, it’s too much,“ you choke out, Your nails digging into his chest to keep yourself together.

“Yes you can— your doing it already.” He coos, like he's trying to calm a frightened animal.

Remmick draws light feathered circles against your skin, his eyes fully scanning your face now. “Darlin, Your doin’ so well,” he says tilting his head back just slight. Still watching you, still trying to calm you down, Your comfort being too important to him.

“Whenever your ready. Move those pretty hips for me.” he sighs softly, “I promise im not goin’ anywhere.”

Here goes nothing.

You finally grow some confidence and lift up slightly, testing the waters, Feeling the way his hand clenches to keep a tight hold on Your hips. He doesn’t want to let you go, you don’t want him too. You come back down slowly, feeling the way your walls grow tighter when he enters once more.

This feels different.

Not in a bad way.

Exciting, new, different.

It feels a little overwhelming at first, trying to make sure you're not dropping your full weight on him all while he’s nuzzled inside your cunt but slowly the burning need grows. You do it again, lifting up to come back down on his length. A soft moan leaving your lips at the sensation. It’s usually Remmick who’s taking the reins; the one finding pleasure for you, Moving at his own accord when he wants. He'll find a rhythm that gets his stomach pooling with heat, a position that has your muscles burning, your mind ditzy.

Now?

You're the one holding the reins, Taking control. Before you know it, you're riding him in slow paces. Your hands pressed against his chest to support yourself— hips grinding down so you can find that slight, hot, burn that makes your stomach churn.

Remmick has his hands tight around your waist, his hold almost bruising. You both don’t say anything, nothing but the low grunts and moans echoing throughout the room. For the first time Remmick isn’t talking his head off— too lost in the pleasure, His eyes pinned to the constant exposure of his cock entering your cunt.

Perhaps you should do this more often, you think.

Soon enough the nervousness begins to wash away into pleasure and your moving faster. The sounds of skin on skin begin to mix into the air. You can feel warmth pooling down from your chest and slowly creeping its way to where you're connected to Remmick, like someone lit a fire under a stove. Your hips were being bruised by his hold, his fingers pressing into your skin. The more you ride him the more you start to take note that his claws are lightly scraping against your skin, leaving unruly red marks. They don’t dig in enough to bleed but you can feel them cementing themselves— A reminder that you made Remmick come undone.

“Sugar, m’close, so so close…” Remmick Whines under his breath, his voice dipping into a higher pitch. While his voice only stirs you on, You can’t help but stare at the way his fangs peeks out between his lips, how his tongue presses against them and then lulls out between them.

“Gonna- mhmm - I’m gonna, fuckkkk. Baby-“

“Not yet,” You groan, stopping to grind down hard, making sure he knows he won’t get a reward if he doesn’t listen. “Not until I say so.” You reprimand him.

Remmick throws his head back, a deep rumble echoing through his chest. You can feel the muscles under his skin tense, his hips practically jump in anticipation.

“m’sorry…” Remmick whines, “Please, I’ll be good.“ Pathetic cries begin pooling from his mouth, his head nodding away from the pure bliss he was experiencing.

“I don’t know…” you say offhandedly.

”Fuck, please, I’ll be good! Just— faster.” He begs, He looked good like this, all desperate and pathetic like. Almost like you’ve been withholding this from him for centuries. To think all it took was riding him like there was no tomorrow.

You watch as his eyes shut close, his breathing becoming unsteady. his fangs peeking out to brush against his bottom lip.

“You overwhelmed baby?”

Remmick bobs his head, sucks in a breath when you slam back down.

“Look at me.” You coo softly.

Remmicks glowing red eyes snap towards your own and what a glorious sight it was.

His ruby eyes half lidded but filled with adoration for you. His chest glistening with sweat and some other substance that you're sure is the copious amount of drool that’s been pooling from the corner of his mouth. How delicious he looked, hair tousled and chest heaving in rapid succession.

“Aren’t you a sight.” You chuckle.

“Please Darlin’ m’not gonna last any longer.”

How cute, you think, Remmick who’s always boasting and teasing you for crying and whining that it’s too much and yet he can’t handle it either.

“How about you beg me darlin. Tell me how much this pussy makes you cry.”

Remmicks eyes widen for a moment, His mouth gaping open like a fish. You swear you can hear the gears turning in his pretty little head. His cock throbs inside of you so good it makes your thighs clench around his waist.

“Your doing so…so, so—fuck, I can’t-“ He sobs in broken syllables.

You fingertips glides down the front of his chest, slowly working its way until it stops on his stomach and you press down slightly. “Yes you can, your almost there.”

“I— mhmm, baby, feels so good—“

“That’s it, keep going.”

”Your so perfect— fuck! made just f’me. Never want to let you go—“

You lean down so that your breath fans against his ear when you say, “You want to come inside?”

Remmicks entire body almost lifts off the bed.

“Yes! please!— wanna pump you full, gonna fucking— shit,” he sobs out loud, “Pussy feels so good, made just for me.”

You speed up once more, the sounds of skin connecting and moans mingled together brings hot fire straight into your core— you're getting so close too, his cocking hitting so deep inside it almost makes your eyes roll back. You figured this would be the time to push your limits— have him come undone with tears in his eyes instead. What a pretty sight it would be, a memory you won’t hesitate to bring again later when he says something smart about the roles reversing back.

“You can do better than that.” You say, testing the waters. “Show me how much you want to cum.”

Remmick doesn’t hesitate to follow your orders, his hips lifting so he can meet your rhythm. His hands moving to squeeze your ass— his claws digging into your skin, holding purchase, using your body to bring him to a climax he desperately needs. You can tell he was close, his hips faltering and then picking up again. He’s practically pounding into you, a speed so inhuman that it makes your pussy numb with pleasure.

God, if he kept going like this— his cock pistoning into your cervix once more, you're going to be sore for days. Wobble on your legs like a newborn dear but you won’t complain. Not when the view of Remmick’s blissed out face will be imprinted in your memory.

“N-Now?” he whines, turning his head to suck a deep mark into your shoulders. His nose tucked into your neck once more. You can feel his fangs brush over your skin just slight, his legs tensing everytime they brush against your thighs and the best part of all? The delicious sound of Remmick pounding into you.

“Y-Yeah, fuck— do whatever you want baby. You earned it.”

Remmick thrusts up into your core a few more times, loud moans echos through the room and he cums right inside of you. Pumping you full, making sure he paints the inside of your cunt white. He doesn’t pull out, no, he wants to make sure your filled to the brim. Nothing but him occupying your cunt from the inside out.

“Ohhh—so tight, mhmmm” he cries into your skin, “I’m— fuckkk!” You can hear a slight hiss afterwards, his forehead pressing into your shoulders. Suddenly you feel warm liquid coat your chest, his mouth gliding along your shouder.

When you turn to look at him, you catch a glimpse of red slide down his chin. He was holding back from biting you— the moment too much for him to handle, his fangs practically pierced through his bottom lip.

“You okay?”

Remmick simply nods, too dazed to give a coherent response anyways. You can’t help but eye his lips once more, watch the way fresh blood pools against his skin. The sight of him all bloody and messy makes your pussy clench around him and he groans.

Without thinking, Your hand wraps around his chin to pull him close, your mind racing with nothing but the need to claim him once more. An idea crosses your mind, something you’ve always dreamed of doing and now was the perfect time to act on it. You squeeze his chin softly, leaning down to plant your lips against his, the muscle bloody and almost swollen but you didn’t care.

The taste of iron and drool only makes the craving grow.

Soon enough your teeth come down to replace the indent of his fangs, biting down hard— making sure another wound opens on his lips and then you just tug. Sucking in his bottom lip, the taste of his blood intoxicating.

You let it go, watch as his lip snaps back into place and Remmick almost howls— his hips jerking up into your cunt, his hands shooting to cup your face.

“Fuck, do it again.” He whines into your mouth.

You comply easily, the taste of him is too good to ignore. You press your teeth down In another untouched area and bite down again, until a fresh new wound cuts open his skin, the flow of blood and spit dribbles out from your kiss.

You swear you can hear Remmick purr against your hand.

When you both part your lips, A long drawn out moan leaves between you two— A spit line follows along until it disconnects when you lean back unto his lap again. You can feel the swell inside, his cocked nuzzled deep into your cervix, right where he belongs. When you finally feel like you’ve had your fill of everything Remmick gives you, his entire being devoted and at your mercy, you sit up slowly.

Remmick hums lowly, his breathing at its regular pace again. He looked fucked up but satisfied completely, a goofy grin laying on his face. He looks down to watch the aftermath, The tip of his cock popping out to reveal an overflow of his cum—it practically spills from your cunt, drooling right back on his pelvis.

“You did so well hun.” You say, teasing and soft, copying the warm southern tone he likes to soothe you with. Who knew you had it in you to reduce Remmick to a weeping mess?

Remmick smiles happily at you, sucking in his bottom lip to taste the spit that lingers from your heavy kiss. His hands moving up to massage your hips. He feels the indents in your skin, the pads of his fingers tracing the lines over and over.

You can get used to this, you think.

“Wanna go again?” you smile.

“Yes please.”

[a-casxandra]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐃

zayne x non-mc

Sypnosis : At Akso Hospital, love is tested beneath the hum of fluorescent lights and the weight of unspoken words. You and Zayne, a brilliant but distant surgeon, have spent three years together—balancing careers, love, and sacrifice. But when his childhood friend is admitted as a critical patient, lines begin to blur, and hearts begin to break.

In a world where timing is cruel and silence speaks louder than truth, one choice will change everything.

You and Zayne had been together for almost three years. Three years of shared dreams, late-night shifts, fleeting kisses between surgeries, and quiet mornings when neither of you had the energy to speak. Everything was good—or at least, that’s what you believed.

Both of you were surgeons at Akso Hospital, living under the same fluorescent lights and constant beeping monitors. The job was demanding. But love... you always believed love found time, no matter how busy.

Zayne Li—the top surgeon in the hospital. Ebony hair, hazel green eyes, and a presence so composed it unnerved others. Starcatcher Awardee. Unshakable. Cold, some would say. But not to you. You knew him differently. Knew the way his fingers trembled ever so slightly after losing a patient, or how he watched the sunrise like it was the only soft thing left in this world.

But lately, that softness was no longer yours.

It shifted.

To her.

To MC.

She was young. Sweet. Talkative. Friendly. His childhood friend. And now—a patient. When she arrived with a heart condition, Zayne took it upon himself to be her personal doctor. No one questioned it. Of course he would.

And you didn’t either. Not at first.

“You should eat more vegetables,” Zayne said, setting down a tray of food beside MC’s bed.

“Says the doctor who hates carrots.” She laughed, pointing at him with her fork. “And don't think I forgot you hoarded all the sugar packets in the lounge.”

You stood in the hallway watching them—his smile. The way he leaned a little closer. The way her fingers touched his wrist casually, familiarly.

Yvonne, manning the front desk, turned to you with furrowed brows. “Don’t you think they’re… too close?” she asked quietly.

You forced a smile. “That’s nonsense. They’re just friends…”

But the words felt like ash on your tongue.

One night, you walked into MC’s room with a folder in hand.

“Zayne, can I—”

You stopped.

Your world stopped.

His lips were on hers.

He pulled away instantly when he saw you. “This—this isn’t what it looks like.”

You stared blankly. Cold rushed to your limbs. “I’m sorry if I bothered you,” you whispered, then turned away.

Zayne followed you into the quiet hallway. Midnight. Only a few nurses on night shift, none paying attention.

“[reader], wait, please—let me explain.”

“What is there to explain!?” you snapped.

“MC and I are just friends—” “It sure doesn’t look like that.” Your voice broke. “Do our three years together mean nothing to you?”

“No! Of course they do. I just—Please… don’t make me choose between you.”

That silenced everything.

You looked at him, tears trembling in your lashes. “Why? Because you’d choose her?”

And he said nothing.

MC’s condition worsened. The waiting list for a heart donor was long. Too long.

You saw her cry. You saw Zayne hold her, tell her he’d find a way.

And so, you made the decision for him.

“I have everything, don’t I?” you told Yvonne quietly, days later as you stood in the prep room. “I achieved my dream. I became a surgeon. I saved lives…”

You smiled faintly. “Maybe saving hers will be the last thing I do right.”

Yvonne choked back tears. So did Dr. Greyson. The nurses. All of them. Because they knew. They all knew what you were about to give up.

Six hours.

The operation was successful.

MC’s vitals were stable.

Applause echoed softly in the room—relieved sighs from nurses, notes scribbled into charts, another life saved. Zayne, still in his surgical scrubs, removed his gloves, sanitized, and walked out.

The first thing he asked was:

“Where’s [reader]?”

No one answered.

His eyes narrowed. He asked again. More firmly.

Greyson finally stepped forward.

“…zayne.. maybe you shouls follow me.."

Zayne was led into another room. The air felt wrong. Heavy. And then—he saw the surgical table. A body, still, beneath a white sheet.

And when the blanket was pulled away—

It was you.

It had always been you.

The donor.

The girlfriend he could never bring himself to choose.

Now gone.

Forever.

Zayne’s knees gave out beneath him. For once, the cold and stoic surgeon—broke.

𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝘂𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗲𝗳𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗱

𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗽 𝗯𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴.

Author's note : zayne's pov was already written in my draft actually hehehe. also, i'm still in the process of writing sylus's story. penny for your thoughts, regarding this story?

[juliettejwnewinesa]

I really don't understand what I'm happening with the whole situation (just something about ai), and I've been reading you fanfics for a while now (and I've been eating them up, theyre scrumptious and yummy), and never once have I thought they were ai. You can see it in writing structure(?) And the way you write, it feels human. And there is nothing wrong with using grammarly cause we all do.

Anyway, I'm so sorry for your hate, but if it's not much trouble, can you make a fanfic about childhood best friend!reader x Han Su-gang who is older than her by 2 years. She left town, sugang was devastated, and she came back and transferred for her last year.

He makes himself known by lingering around her for a long while (in the halls, brief touching, just tormenting her), wondering if she remembered him. things have been quiet, and no one tells her the incidents. She simps over Han su-gang about how handsome he is to her friends (she's a bunble Ray of sunshine and naive so they tell her nothing) and how adorable their children will be and all that like a middle schooler. It's like pure and adorable saying they'll have 3 kids, 2 boys and 1 girl, and have 5 cats (being dululu), and he hears about this and decided to give her a good time!(smut)

Anyway, please and thank you and take care of yourself (so sorry that this is long💔)

hey babeee thx for the request sorry for the delay btw 😘

Title: Guess You Grew Up Pairing: Han Su-gang x naive!sunshine!childhoodbestfriend!Fem!Reader Rating: 🔞 MDNI Tags: childhood best friends to something else, naive reader, light corruption, possessive Su-gang, unaware reader, fluffy smut, oral (f receiving), size kink, breeding talk (delulu style), soft and dark tension

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

Han Su-gang never forgot you.

You were the only bright thing in his life back then. Messy pigtails, scraped knees, and that ridiculous laugh. You were the first person who held his hand without flinching. Who told him he was your “favorite person in the world.”

Then one day, you were just… gone. Moved away. No goodbye.

It haunted him. For years.

And then—just like that—you were back.

You transferred in mid-term, your backpack bouncing, your voice still sweet and chirpy as you introduced yourself with a wide smile to a classroom full of half-dead teenagers. “I used to live here when I was little! It’s so good to be back!”

Su-gang leaned back in his chair, staring at you from the back row, jaw tight.

You’d grown. Legs longer. Hair shinier. Same fucking smile.

But you didn’t even look at him.

Did you forget him?

He watched. Waited.

And when the bell rang, you skipped right past him like you didn’t even notice the boy who used to protect you from bullies.

He almost laughed.

You started following him with your eyes first.

He could feel it when he walked down the hallway, his hands in his pockets, and you’d pause mid-conversation, glancing up at him like a little lost puppy.

Then came the whispers. The blushing.

“He’s so pretty, right?” you said to your friends one day in the bathroom, unaware he was around the corner. “Like, dangerously hot. Oh my god. I want him to kiss me and then ignore me for a week so I can cry about it like in a drama.”

Your friends stared at you in horror.

You just kept going. “If I married him, our kids would be gorgeous. We’d have, like… three. Two boys, one girl. And five cats! Or maybe seven. He looks like a cat dad, don’t you think?”

Su-gang bit his lip to keep from laughing.

You really hadn’t changed at all.

He started showing up more.

Behind you in the hallway. Lurking near your locker. Sitting near you in the cafeteria. His knuckles would brush yours when you passed. His shoulder would graze yours in class.

It drove you crazy.

You kept stealing glances, your brain turning into fluff every time he licked his lips or leaned against the wall like a walking daydream.

One day, after your “dream wedding fantasy” rant, Su-gang finally snapped.

He cornered you after school, pulling you into a supply room and shutting the door with a soft click.

You gasped, back hitting the shelf.

“Han—Han Su-gang?!”

He stared down at you, silent.

Your heart thumped. “Are you—um, are you lost?”

He stepped closer. "You really don’t remember me?"

You blinked up at him. “Huh?”

“I used to walk you home. You made me hold your stupid Hello Kitty umbrella.”

Your mouth fell open. “…Sooie?”

He groaned. “Don’t call me that.”

“Oh my god—Han Sooie!” You laughed, teary-eyed, and then threw your arms around him. “I missed you! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?!”

“I was waiting,” he muttered into your hair, his arms tightening. “Wanted to see if you remembered. You didn’t.”

“I do now!” you pouted. “You got hot. That threw me off.”

He pulled back and looked down at you, his gaze dark. “You really think I’m hot?”

You nodded without thinking. “Like… really hot. In a ‘ruin me’ kind of way.”

“…You shouldn’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I will.”

He kissed you hard, like he’d been holding it in for years.

Your lips parted in surprise, and Su-gang took full advantage, sliding his tongue into your mouth, one hand cupping your cheek while the other settled low on your waist.

You melted into him instantly.

“I should make you pay for forgetting me,” he murmured against your lips.

“S-Su-gang…”

“You say I’m hot? Say you want kids? Say stupid little things about marrying me?” He kissed down your neck, biting gently. “You think I wouldn’t hear that?”

You whimpered. “You heard that?!”

He chuckled darkly. “You’re not subtle.”

His hand slipped under your skirt. Fingers finding you embarrassingly wet already.

“Oh my god—”

“You this wet just from seeing me around, sunshine?”

You nodded, dazed. “You always look so good. I—I just thought about it a lot.”

“You want me to give you a good time, yeah?” he whispered, fingers stroking your clit slowly. “Since you dream about it so much.”

You whined and nodded again.

He kissed you breathless as he slid two fingers inside you, curling them slow and deep. His other hand moved to your chest, pulling down your top just enough to mouth at your nipple, sucking lightly.

Your legs shook.

“Please—please, Su-gang…”

“Shh. Let me take care of you, sunshine.” He dropped to his knees, pushing your skirt up.

“Wait—w-we’re still at school—”

“Then be quiet,” he smirked, before licking a thick stripe up your pussy, making your knees nearly buckle.

He ate you like he was starved. Like he owned you.

You were already close—years of fantasy finally crashing into reality.

“S-Su-gang, I’m—”

“Go ahead,” he murmured, fingers tightening on your thighs. “Cum for me. Then maybe I’ll fuck you for real and give you those kids you keep talking about.”

You cried out, biting your fist as you came hard, hips grinding against his mouth.

When he stood again, your legs were trembling, and he kissed you soft this time.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered. “Got it?”

You nodded, dizzy, breathless, ruined.

“Good girl.”

[thatchrollostan]

as this blog has stated countless times: Levi CANNOT flirt for dear life.

so when he finds out that he got a crush on you, and he has no idea how to start something with you, he thinks to himself, that, maybe he'll just give up and move on with life. life is better when love is not involved anyway, or so he convinces himself.

we'll, he's wrong.

months later, he's frustrated that he hasn't been able to move on and enjoy a better life like he planned to months back. he's still .... hopelessly stupid around you. he doesn't ask love advice to anyone, but of course Erwin and Hange somehow can sniff something is brewing

he doesn't take their advice, they're too... sappy. and cringe. maybe. he's questioning himself a lot. is it cringe? it IS cringe. is it? or is he just not used to romancing? Erwin and Hange definitely have more experience in this, so maybe he can ... try one of their advices.

You’re stuck on pantry duty with the rest of your squad, when Levi walks up behind you quietly.

“You really oughta change how you clean your furniture,” he says, deadpan as ever. “Dusting’s not always enough. You’ve gotta wipe it down with a damp cloth.”

He’s got that same unreadable expression plastered on his face, but inside, Levi reminds himself, smile, dammit. So, one second after he finishes his sentence, he does. Briefly. A second later, he regrets everything.

You catch the sudden smile out of the corner of your eye, and get a bit concerned. That smile was ominous for some reason.

“Got it. I’ll grab a cloth, Captain.”

“Good.” He clears his throat. He needs to bail before this gets more awkward. “Keep that in mind. Maybe then your quarters will look better next time I check.”

And just like that, it hits you. When he dropped by your room yesterday, he must’ve clocked every stain and speck of dust with those hawk eyes of his. He’s definitely calling you out.

“Sorry, Captain,” you mutter, already halfway to the supply closet. He stiffens at your apology.

“I’m not—” he starts, but you’re gone. He exhales hard, dragging a hand down his face before stalking off down the hall.

To hell with Hange’s idea. Never again.

the next day, Hange asks him if their plan worked or not, and Levi just says "dont ask" frustratedly and leaves quickly, still embarrassed to the bone.

but it seems the God of Love is merciful with him.

another opportunity comes when Levi spots you from across the mess hall. some cadet collides into you, splashing some of his black coffee over your crisp white uniform. he doesn’t move, just watches, his eyes narrowing like he might burn a hole through the poor kid. you talk with the cadet for a moment, clearly upset, then walk off, heading toward your table with a stormy expression

you pass his table without noticing him. he considers saying something. maybe offering help. but how? would that make him look stupid? sticking his nose where it doesn't belong? he’s halfway through overthinking it when you start getting farther away

then by some ridiculous miracle, you stop, turn around, and walk back toward him. he looks up, caught off guard as you offer a sheepish smile

“Sorry to bother your lunch, Captain,” you say, gesturing to the fresh stain on your chest, “but, uh… do you have any tips for getting coffee out of white?”

This is it. His shot. Blow it, and there won’t be a next one.

“…I do,” he says after a beat, voice level. “Meet me in the laundry room after lunch. I’ll show you how to do it yourself.”

You light up at that, more than he expected. And when you nod and walk off again, looking oddly pleased, he lets the corners of his mouth turn up, just slightly.

that afternoon, he has a very pleasant time cleaning your uniform with you, that Erwin feels spooked when Levi passes by him with a ghost of a smile

[momo-kageyama]

When the Silence Breaks

—————————————————————————

Anime: KPop Demon Hunters

—————————————————————————

Garam ( Mystery Saja ) x R.femele.

—————————————————————————

Mystery Saja is a human girl called Y/N, who is her complete opposite: hyperactive, dramatic, expressive - and who loves to sing and dance out of nowhere. The scene is full of contrast, comic tension, silent enchantment and a supernatural touch

Seeing Garam's eyes for the first time is a sweeping experience, almost supernatural, so beautiful, so impactful, that it leaves you groundless

You two realize that you love each other... at the same time. Nothing said before. Only accumulated tension, touches that didn't happen, repressed feelings - and then... boom, the two explode at the same time.

They are still opposites - you: alive, dramatic, noisy. He: quiet, observant, sensitive in silence.

But together... they are something unique.

—————————————————————————

—Abandoned subway station — Seoul underground, 2 am

The metallic echo of the failing lights mixes with the distant sound of a ghost train. Mystery Saja is there, alone, standing, in the middle of the deactivated platform. The shadows cover much of your face. His long hair falls like an opaque curtain, hiding the look that observes the space as if he already knew what will happen.

He is investigating a possible soul extraction point - a quick mission, no surprises. Until...

Y/N literally explodes from the darkness, spinning like a musical dancer.

- "I WANNA DANCE, THE MUSIC'S GOT ME GOING—!" - she sings in loud English, performing with her arms, spinning and almost stumbling on her own foot.

Mystery Saja retreats half a step. Without saying a word.

- "AH!" - Y/N stops abruptly, wide eyes. - "Young man?! Are you... hidden in the pitch or just training for the comeback?"

Silence. The hair still covers Mystery Saja's face. He doesn't answer.

She tilts her head dramatically.

- "Or are you a stalker?" - she asks, but smiles as if it were just another character she plays on the stage of life.

- "You look like an idol in disguise... But like... the dark concept. Like, very dark. Like, 'my heart is a wet cave where love was buried with coarse salt'.”

Mystery Saja gives a slight sigh - or maybe he just moved his left shoulder. It's hard to say. But he won't leave.

Y/N turns again. - "WHAT is it that you have in your hair? Is it a nest? Can I see your face? No, seriously... you're beautiful—”

Mystery raises his hand, in a calm and slow gesture, asking for silence. But it's almost kind.

Y/N for.

Blinking.

As if I were in shock.

For two seconds.

- "Do you speak with your hands???"

- "Are you like... magic mute? Because if it is, TEACH ME! I always wanted to be mysterious, like... 'she never talks, but everyone fears her'!"

She then dives into another theatrical performance. She makes a ninja gesture and begins to move as if she were in a dramatic boy group choreography.

- "Look, I learned that here watching Taemin's fancam."

And dance. In his face.

Mystery Saja doesn't move. But under the bangs, his eyes follow the movements. For a second, she swears she saw the corner of her mouth rise... almost a smile.

- "A-HA! I SAW THIS! You smiled! CONFESS!"

Total silence.

She approaches.

- "It's okey... I'll leave you alone."

Start walking, slowly.

Then sing softly:

- "But if you want to follow me, just clap once..."

PAH.

The dry sound of a lonely palm echoes.

She freezes.

Turn around, slowly.

Mystery Saja is in the same place.

But... his left hand, suspended in the air, reveals that he applauded.

- "... You're kidding me."

She smiles.

- "YOU HAVE PERSONALITY! I KNEW!"

Y/N runs to him.

- "Look, I don't know if you're a mysterious spirit, a misunderstood dancer, or a K-pop demon fallen into my world - but I officially declare that you will be my new project! 'Revealing the cute side of the mysterious emo'. It's going to pump."

She raises her cell phone.

Mystery Saja simply... turns her back.

But it won't go away.

And she understands.

He doesn't want to be seen. But you also don't want her to leave.

Then she sits on the floor, crossing her legs.

It begins to imitate his silent gestures.

Mirroring the arms, the shoulders, the head tilted.

After a few minutes, he turns around again.

Just watch her.

And slowly, very slowly, puts his index finger on his chest - a universal gesture that says:

"You're... different."

She smiles. Dramatically, of course.

- "You too."

———————

The subway lights fail again.

A ghost train crosses from behind, cutting the darkness with its greenish glow.

When the light returns, Y/N is alone.

But on the wall, painted with black fog and demonic magic, a mark appears:

A symbol of theater - half sad, half smiling.

She laughs.

- "There, emo silent... I liked you."

—————————————————————————

—Several meetings over the weeks, in secret places in Seoul

- The alley lit only by neon

You appeared dancing out of nowhere, with a pocket radio playing a Korean trot remix. I was trying to do a choreography that "mixed musical diva with capoeira fighter".

- "Do you see this kick? It's to send the negativity away!"

You're cute. The foot escapes.

You almost fell.

He catches you.

Without saying anything.

Just safe.

You expect a scolding. Or a chuck.

But Garam only holds it for a second longer than necessary.

And then, with a light touch on your hair, he fixes your messy bangs.

You blink, surprise.

He walks away.

But something stayed there.

————————

- The forgotten sanctuary at the top of the hill

You arrived late, disheveled and singing loudly:

- " LET LIFE TAKE ME - LIFE TAKES ME!"

Garam was already there, meditating.

He just sighs... but doesn't leave.

You dance around him. Make voices. Imitations of doramas.

- "Master Garam, why does the heart suffer so much?"

He raises an eyebrow.

And with a theatrical gesture, you collapse on your own arms pretending to cry.

He doesn't laugh.

But that day, when you finally shut up for 10 seconds...

He drew a small symbol on the stone, with demonic energy.

It was a little animal.

With weird hair and open arms.

A caricature of you.

You saw it.

- "Is it serious that you made a chibi of mine???"

He just turned his face.

But you saw the tip of his ear fly fly.

——————————

— Summer rain, deserted street

You showed up with a transparent raincoat, sunglasses and a flashlight.

- "IT'S THE PARADE OF THE STARS IN THE FORM OF PEOPLE! BAM!"

He jumped in the puddle of water.

The water splashed even on him.

Garam stopped.

He looked at the wet body.

Then, for you.

You froze.

- "E-ita. Sorry, it was... it was number 14 of my water soil!"

Silence.

So...

He passed by you.

Wet, calm.

And for the first time, he said something with a hoarse and low voice:

- "You don't match silence... but I like to hear what you don't say."

You crashed.

- "Wait, wait, do you speak?? YOU SAID IT!"

You stumble in emotion and fall on the wet floor.

Garam extends his hand.

And when you hold...

He holds on tight.

Firmer than before.

—————————————————————————

She's chaos. I'm silent.

She shows off to the world. I run away from him.

She dances without fear. I was made to stay still.

But when she smiles... I move unintentionally.

He starts watching you from afar when you're not together.

Find videos of you dancing on the street, making bizarre reels, imitating idols.

Laughing alone.

Being alive.

And without realizing...

He starts to smile.

—————————————————————————

- Secret stage

You drag him to an abandoned stage in the basement of a cultural center.

- "This time, it's your turn. Come dance with me."

He hesitates.

You're getting closer.

- "You don't have to be perfect. Just feel."

And you dance.

Slow, this time.

Dramatic.

He observes.

Take a step.

Then another one.

And finally, dance with you - not like a trained idol, but like Garam: silent, elegant, intense.

And in the end...

With the bodies stood, almost glued...

He leans his forehead against yours.

The eyes still covered by the hair.

And whisper, so low that only you hear:

- "You move me."

—————————————————————————

The night was quiet. An absolute silence hovered over the roof of the abandoned temple, where you and Garam had met, once again.

He was as always: still, his dark hair covering half of his face, his dense bangs protecting his eyes like a sacred veil. He was pure enigma. Untouchable. A marble painting.

You danced.

As always.

Not to impress him.

But because his body didn't know how to stay still.

Because the world was too intense not to be lived with movement.

And then... you stopped.

He felt.

Something changed in the air.

You turned around, slowly.

He was there.

This time... closer.

And with a slow and thoughtful hand, he moved his hair away from his face.

He revealed his eyes.

From that ethereal tone, impossible to name.

They radiated a dark light, sparkling like an eclipse.

It wasn't a color. It was a sensation.

Time has stalled.

You forgot what it was like to breathe.

The body frosted.

The heart melted.

The legs failed.

And then you whispered - low, honest, shocked with yourself:

- "... damn it."

- "I came."

An even greater silence fell.

Your face burned.

- "I MEAN... METAPHORICALLY! MY BRAIN CAME! MY... MY HEART!"

You threw yourself on the floor.

He shermed.

He hid under his own blouse.

- "OH MY GOD, DID I SAY THAT OUT LOUD?"

Garam didn't say it.

But when you dared to look again...

He was smiling.

Not openly.

Not largely.

But the corner of his mouth was there.

Raised.

Subtle.

Accomplice.

And for a moment - just one - he tilted his face and murmured:

- "You always say exactly what you feel."

- "This is rare."

You shrank more.

- "AND YOU ALWAYS SHOW UP WITH THIS DEMON BEAUTY FROM VERSACE!"

He just smiled a little more.

Then, he knelt next to him.

Without saying anything, he stretched out his hand.

You faced it.

Then he laughed.

He put his hand on his.

- "If you show me those eyes again, I'll scream."

- "Like 'scream in five octaves'."

He replied, whispering:

- "Then scream."

—————————————————————————

—An old rehearsal room, covered with broken mirrors

The wooden floor creaks. The air smells of memory.

You're there.

Alone.

Or at least, you think you are.

You turn in the center of the room.

Make poses. Steps without music.

Dance with your breath.

When it stops, he realizes:

He's there.

Leaning against one of the columns, between cracked mirrors.

Watching you.

As always.

But today... he's not still.

He walks up to you.

Without looking away.

The eyes are visible.

Again.

- "Garam..." - you start, with a low voice, not knowing if you're going to speak or cry or sing a romantic song from the 90s just to break the mood.

He stops one step away.

Take a deep breath.

You too.

For a second, the whole time exists between you.

Everything that was felt and not said.

The hands that almost touched.

The looks turned away.

The unspoken "thank you".

The dances you pretended were just a joke.

He raises his hand.

You too.

Fingers almost touch each other.

And then, at the same time, in a weak, nervous, sincere whisper:

- "I love you."

You say it together.

Silence.

A shock.

His eyes widen.

His lips open in a nervous laugh.

- "DID YOU ALSO SAY? I SWEAR IT WASN'T PLANNED, IT WAS JUST—”

He pulls you.

With delicacy, but urgency.

And for the first time, Garam really hugs you.

With the whole body.

With all the feelings.

You feel his chest rise and fall.

Feel his silence saying everything.

And with your head on his shoulder, you say, softly:

- "My heart also dances, okay?"

He smiles against your hair.

And answer:

- "Now he dances with me."

—————————————————————————

—A hidden terrace at the top of an old building, night of clear sky

The city lights are flashing downstairs, but up here everything is quiet.

You and Garam are sitting side by side, without touching each other.

The wind messes up your hair.

His bangs fall over his eyes - as always.

You stayed there for a long time just... existing.

You talked about everything and nothing.

He made faces, imitated an idol getting sick on stage, danced twice without any music.

He laughed. Really.

A light laugh. A rare sound.

And then... silence arrived.

But it wasn't uncomfortable.

It was full.

You look at him.

He's already looking at you.

His bangs move with the wind.

For the first time, you see his eyes completely, without shadow, without filter.

The color - still impossible to describe - shines with something new.

Desire. Affection. Passion. Fear.

You whisper:

- "If you kiss me now, I'll explode."

- "Seriously. Become emotional confetti."

Garam doesn't answer.

He just leans.

Slow.

Mesmerizing.

His hand touches your face as if you were made of glass.

The touch is almost a whisper.

But his heat burns.

You hold your breath.

Time stops.

His lips touch yours as if they were testing the limits between dream and reality.

And then...

He kisses you.

Not in a hurry.

Not with despair.

But with depth. For sure.

Like someone who finally understood what the silence was screaming.

Your fingers close in his clothes.

His hands hold your face as if they wanted to keep you there forever.

When the kiss ends, you still have your eyes closed.

The heart hammering.

You laugh.

Shorty.

Panting.

- "It's. Confirm there: did this happen or was it a fanfic that my freaked out mind wrote in real time?"

He leans his forehead against yours.

And with a deep, low, hoarse voice:

- "If it's fanfic... I want the next chapter."

—————————————————————————

"Picnic on the roof"

You show up with a colorful towel, a bright pink lunch box and giant sunglasses.

- "Today we're going to eat in heaven!"

Garam only raises an eyebrow.

- "I know you don't need to eat, but it will be romantic. So pretend."

You sit on the roof of the Saja Boys headquarters. You serve heart-shaped onigiris, which clearly came out crooked.

- "I tried."

He takes one.

Eat. In silence.

Then, slowly, draw a heart on the top of your hand with your finger.

You die inside.

But smile. Silly.

And says:

- "You're cuter than me, and that annoys me."

—————————

TikTok banned (but he showed up!)

You are recording a video dancing "Feel Special" in the bathroom of Saja HQ.

- "Go, Garam, just a little step!"

He crosses his arms. Neutral.

You pout absurdly.

Pretend to cry.

Throw yourself on the floor.

He sighs...

And then, he enters the board discreetly, just taking that little side step.

The video goes viral.

The fanbase explodes.

"WHO IS THE GUY WITH THE HAIR IN THE EYE WHO DANCES LIKE A HANDSOME GHOST?"

You answer in the comments:

"MY BOYFRIEND. KISSES. HE'S REAL."

Garam just looks at the screen with a neutral expression.

But at night, he shows up in your room.

And whispers:

- "I liked dancing with you."

———————————

"Kisses hidden between the shows"

Between one rehearsal and another, when everyone is focused on the big screens...

He passes behind you, silent.

Just put your finger on your hand.

You turn around.

He pulls you into a dark corner.

And kisses you in a hurry, as if the world were going to end - but only for him.

Then he leaves as if nothing had happened.

You go back to the zonza stage.

- "DID SOMEONE WRITE DOWN THE KISS SIGN??"

——————���——

"Rain and laughter"

One night, you are caught in a storm.

You dance.

He... leaves it.

You pull him by the hand.

- "If getting wet together is like... soul pact, you know?"

He just looks at you, wet, hair stuck to his face.

- "Do you want my soul?"

You answer:

- "I already got it. When I saw your eyes for the first time, remember?"

He holds your waist.

Kiss you right there.

In the rain.

In the middle of the street.

You scream with joy.

He holds your hand.

Strong.

Hot.

—————————

Short extras :

• You imitate him perfectly in front of the Saja Boys (with your hair covering your face and everything). He doesn't react. But then, he leaves a note: "I liked it. Your version of me smiles more. Maybe I'll learn from her."

• You steal his sweatshirt. He doesn't complain. Only show up the next day... wearing your cropped with bread print. You faint laughing.

• When you're sad, he doesn't say anything. Just lie down next to you and hold your hand. You cry. He's still there. Until the world comes back.

—————————————————————————

Garam's secret room - dark walls, starry ceiling with magical projections, amber incense in the air

You enter his space for the first time.

He never let anyone in there.

But today... he opens the door.

His hands touch your waist, guiding you inside.

Calm, as always.

But there's something different in the air.

In his eyes.

You feel it.

His body is too hot.

The short breath.

He closes the door.

You turn around, with a joke ready on your lips:

- "Is it my impression or is it getting hot here-"

He shuts you up with a kiss.

But not like the others.

This... doesn't ask for permission.

He takes it.

With the mouth, with the hands, with the body.

You retreat until your back hits the wall.

He holds you by the hip.

With his mouth on his neck, he bites.

You moan - surprise.

- "Garam...?" - you try to ask.

But what comes out of his throat is not a word.

It's a low growl.

Pure desire.

The mask fell off.

The silent, delicate man... is burning inside.

You laugh, nervous.

- "I-I thought you were shy-"

He tears his doubt with his hot tongue on the curve of his shoulder.

Your clothes fall.

Slowly.

Then in a hurry.

He lays you on the bed - huge, dark, fragrant with him.

His eyes shine with an intensity impossible to face.

You try to deviate...

But he holds his chin firmly and says, for the first time with a deep and raw voice:

- "Look at me."

And you look.

And see there everything he never said:

The desire, the love, the hunger, the devotion, the control that he kept for so long...

Exploding now.

He touches you as if he were decorating your body with his hands.

The fingers walk with demonic precision.

The mouth devours, then caresses, then bites again.

You moan loudly.

He smiles - satisfied.

Like a predator who waited for the right time.

You pull it, try to invert...

But he holds your wrists.

Firmly.

With possession.

- "Today, you are mine."

And you feel it.

His every movement, every attack, is firm, deep, burning.

He studies you, feels you, marks you.

There is no more silence.

The bed creaks.

The air smells of body and sweat and desire.

Their names come out as prayers.

Hours later, when you're lying on top of him, trembling body, heart racing...

You whisper:

- "You... you're a savage..."

He just runs his fingers through your hair and answers, panting, with a hoarse smile:

- "You set me free."

——————————

His body still trembles on top of him.

Sweat runs in slow lines down your skin.

The hair stuck to your face.

You are completely surrendered, surrendered.

But Garam...

He doesn't look away.

He's lying on his back, hugging you as if you were the most precious secret he kept for too long.

You whisper, with a tired smile:

- "Did you have this monster inside you all the time?"

- "And you just let go now?"

He puts his lips on your shoulder.

- "I didn't know it was a monster... until you opened the cage."

You feel your skin shiver.

He turns you slowly, putting you underneath again - in no hurry, but with intention.

His eyes burn.

But now it's different.

It's slower. Deeper.

He's hungry again. But now, emotionally.

His mouth runs through his body as if he were apologizing for everything he didn't say before.

His fingers trace the contour of your face, your chest, your belly...

He kisses every curve.

And when you moan softly, almost unconscious, he smiles.

The most real smile you've ever seen in him.

- "I like to hear your voice... when you're not pretending anything."

You answer:

- "And I like it when you talk. Even if it's just to drive me crazy."

He smiles more.

And then, slowly, it climbs over you again.

The hands hold your thighs.

The eyes glued to yours.

You ask, almost in defiance:

- "Again?"

He answers, with the deepest voice he's ever heard from him:

- "How many times can you stand it?"

————————

Hours later...

The dawn turned early in the morning.

You're wrapped up in his black sheets.

The soft body.

The soul flying.

Garam is sitting next to you, touching your fingers one by one.

Watching you.

You joke:

- "Are you going to curse me now? Like, arrest my soul with that demonic touch?"

He leans over.

Kiss your forehead.

Then the lips.

Then the center of the chest.

- "No. I'll just keep you here."

You hold his hand and touch your heart.

- "Too late."

—————————

Small post-first time moments:

• He watches you sleep. For the first time, he sleeps next to you without fear. And even in his nightmares... when he feels his hand holding his, he returns to the present.

Bath together. He takes you to the dark and warm bathroom, with steam and essences. Wash your hair patiently. You sing all the time. Just touch your forehead to your wet back and say:

- "Being with you is like listening to an infinite song."

• Kisses that break routine. In the middle of the day, in the middle of a corridor, out of nowhere - he pulls you, kisses you hard, without explanation.

You just say:

- "Garam, you're making me unaccustomed."

He answers:

- "It's the least. After what you showed me."

—————————————————————————

His dark room, the night, just the two of you

Garam is close to you, the air loaded with tension.

He looks at you with those hypnotic eyes, full of fire and desire.

His body is tense, like a predator waiting.

You feel his warmth, the unique, almost wild perfume.

He advances, whispering in your ear with a hoarse voice:

- "I can't... you drive me crazy."

You smile, hold his face firmly and say:

- "Garam, be quiet."

He blinks, confused for a second, then raises an eyebrow.

- "Quiet? Do you think it's easy, when I want you like this?"

You caress his hair, making him take a deep breath.

He tries to control his voice, but can only growle low, almost a moan.

You joke, biting your lip:

- "You look like a dog in heat, did you know? If it continues like this, I'll have to hold you on a collar."

He gives a mischievous smile.

- "If it's up to you, I'll accept the collar."

You laugh and press an intense kiss, almost telling him to shut up.

He surrenders, but his eyes say:

- "But I'll come back, and with more desire."

—————————————————————————

Inspiring name in the post of:

@filijester

[thevoidstaredback]

Part 8

There is exactly one good thing about Gotham City, New Jersey, and that his the sheer amount of miasma in the air. When condensed into a liquid-like form, miasma looks to be glowing green. The LoA called it Lazarus Waters, the Doctors Fenton called it Ectoplasm. No matter it's name, though, it's all the same stuff.

Normally, miasma can't be detected unless someone is specifically trained to detect it. Sometimes, though, the stuff gets so full of emotions and intents that it becomes heavy and pools together.

The League of Assassins are terrifying because they found a pool filled to the brim with so much magical intent that they can bring back their dead soldiers. However, the dead are meant to stay dead, and revival takes a lot of magic, so the miasma takes as it gives. It gives life and it takes souls, leaving only the worst. It's not an unrecoverable process, but it is a very long and tedious one.

The Doctors Fenton are more than terrifying because they found a way to imprint miasma with magic without one being completely absorbed into the other. It's an ugly and awesome amalgamation of magic and science, condensing enough miasma into one place, shocking it full of electricity and magic and intent, and opening a portal into a world not meant to be accessed by anyone or thing. A two-way door where there should have only ever been a wall.

All this is to say that Danny has plenty of experience with the stuff. Miasma is the stuff the the Infinite Realms are made of. It powers Spirits and Ghosts and Neverborns. A high enough concentration, like in Gotham, is like drinking four DynaPeps in one go without dying or other medical issues.

Gotham has so much miasma in it's air and water that Danny is honestly surprised that the G.I.W and their stupid trackers didn't clock the city well before they did Amity Park. He was also sure that him being here was passively cleaning it up, at least enough the the air should no longer have a green tint by the time he's finally allowed to leave.

All in all, keeping himself and Jason both intangible and invisible took almost no energy. Like taking a cup of water from the Pacific Ocean.

"At least they were nice enough to put us in the Penitentiary instead of Intensive Treatment." Jason said.

Danny looked at him even though neither could see each other. "You mean the place where all your Rogues waltz out of weekly?"

Jason huffed lightly. "They aren't my Rogues. They're B's Rogues."

"You wear a bat, though?"

"Same reason my name's Red Hood."

He nodded. "Got it."

"Do you?"

"Unless you wanna talk about it?"

"Not in a million years, weather boy."

Danny smirked and reached up to ruffle his hair. "You're learning, kid!"

"Stop that!" Jason smacked his arm away. "You're annoying."

"I get that a lot," he grinned.

The Penitentiary of Arkham Island was all high ceilings and narrow hallways. The ceilings were at least twenty feet up, painted with peeling white paint and stained with years of water and explosion damage. The walls were all made out of the same glass as their cells, letting them see into the many unlit, unoccupied cells lining the hallway. Every ten or so cells was a cement archway that was only about ten feet tall, the space above it being pure cement that had probably been white, once upon a time, but was now a sickly yellow color. The floor was the same smooth cement as the cells, though it was dark and only slightly warmer to touch than in the cells they'd woken up in. Hanging from each archway was a amber light, the white LEDs in the rest of the hallways had probably burned out a while ago.

"It's disgusting in here," Danny said, "No wonder this place is a damn prison."

Jason didn't say anything for a long moment. "It wasn't built to be a prison."

"Then someone must've changed the floor plan-"

"It was supposed to only house whoever the courts decided were criminally insane. They were supposed to be brought here to get better."

"Secluded from the rest of the world?"

"Yeah."

Danny hummed. "I can see the reasoning, but it obviously didn't work out. When'd this building get added on?"

Jason paused. Then, "Arkham Mansion was build just after The Joker showed his ugly face. When he was first brought in, the GCPD didn't have a place that could hold him, so they thought, 'Why not stick him on an out-of-the-way island. That way, he's only slightly our responsibility?' And then Uncle Harvey became Two-Face and got sent there, too. After that, the GCPD just kept sending criminals here. They never got better."

They let the unsettling quiet of the Penitentiary wash over them for a few minutes. They didn't really have audible footsteps, but Danny could hear Jason's breathing. He let himself breath just to prove that Jason wasn't alone.

Something told him that Jason had personal experience with this place.

Maybe exploring could wait a while. At least until he's alone.

"Do you wanna blow this popsicle stand?" he asked.

Jason scoffed. "And miss out on exploring this shit hole? No thanks."

"Hm. If you're sure."

They kept walking.

Eventually, they made it to the courtyard. The overgrown grass and weeds were all dead, dryer than sand even with the perpetual rainstorm over the island. There wasn't a fence, but the water damaged brick walls on all sides made it hard not to feel claustrophobic.

The back wall had four sliding glass doors spread evenly along it, two windows between each. The Northern and Southern most walls each only had a single double glass door, leading into different hallways than the one they came out of. The last set of double doors was flanked by crumbling planters.

They chose the last door and found themselves in a lobby. The floor was green granite, stained with what's probably blood and several other things. The chandelier had long since crashed to the ground, shattering it's lights and the chairs that had the misfortune of being under it. The doors leading to the rest of the Penitentiary were barely hanging on by a hinge each, and the furniture had been torn apart by the humans and animals that were stuck on the island. The entryway had probably been grand when it'd been first built, but it now left a lot to be desired, even if the ornate oak doors were still fully functional.

"I take it you've never been in the Penitentiary," Danny said.

"No," Jason said. He didn't elaborate. Danny didn't ask.

Outside was just as dreary as the courtyard, if not more so. The air was tinted greener than Gotham Proper and Danny had to fight a physical reaction at the sudden influx of energy he got just by opening the door. He wasn't gonna need a power boost for a long time.

"You good?" Jason asked, "You're vibrating.

Danny nodded. "It's a Ghost thing. I'm surprised you don't feel it."

"Feel what?"

"You seen the green?"

Jason stiffened. "The green?" His voice was quiet, tense.

Danny nodded. "The green in the air." He pointed to the gravel driveway. "That's supposed to be grayscale, right?"

"Yeah."

"Do you seen the green tint to it?"

Jason was quiet for a moment. Then, he exhaled heavily. "You can see it, too?"

He blinked. "Yeah..?"

"This is normal?"

"I wouldn't say normal. But for a place like Gotham? Yeah, it's pretty normal."

"Oh, thank god," Jason sighed. Danny could practically hear the weight lifting off his shoulders. "No one else ever said anything about it! I thought- I thought..."

"Thought what?"

"That the Pit..."

"That the Pit was still effecting you?"

"...yeah."

Danny smiled sadly. "Something like the Pit isn't gonna go away. It'll stop effecting you after a while, but it gives and it takes and it leaves only the worst in someone."

"What do you mean?"

"Humanity has grown to think that anger is the worst emotion a person can feel and act on. So, because that belief is such a large part of your learning, the Pit left you with only your anger when it brought you back."

"The Pit Madness." A beat. Two. "I wasn't angry. I mean, I was, in the beginning, but then I was just...sad."

"Grief is what makes you human. Mourning what was taken from you is the beginning of recovery."

Jason hummed. "You seem to know a lot about this."

"A story for another time, man," he said, "Come on, I wanna check out the Medical Facility!"

Part 10

[ningtheftauto]

nunchi 논치

⤼ pairing: sister!yizhuo x sister!reader

⤼ tags: dead dove, incest, top!reader, bottom!yizhuo, fingering, spanking, degradation, tit-sucking, cunnilingus, squirting

⤼ synopsis: yizhuo cannot stand seeing the way y/n glides through life, getting everything she wants. yizhuo’s jealousy gets the best of her, but finally she can have one night about her.

⤼ ise: since no one else wanted to take one for the team, i guess i'll just have to do it. honestly rushed, but it's good enough for me :3

⤼ wc: 3.2k words (friend proofread)

“and look at our little y/n! the star of yonsei and graduating with honors,” your uncle yelled over the loud chatter. you couldn’t do anything, but smile.

you, family members, and close friends all gathered in your family’s luxurious garden to celebrate you. you wore a nice white shirt, black slacks, and beautiful, white heels. the stringed lantern lights lit up the place and the faces among. the air held the smell of success. this was your night. every person’s beaming face, every back pat, every hug, every whispered word was for the brillance of you, the golden child. 

your gaze drifted past the crowd of people, past the tall plants, to where your sister stood. yizhuo. her white dress contrasted against the shadows, as if the celebration were for her. she had walked the same halls, studied for the same hard exams, held her breath through the same finals at yonsei. but, no one celebrated her. no one even really looked at her. her jaw was set, a clear sign of years spent as an afterthought. 

you watched a distant aunt notice yizhuo, give a quick nod, then turn back to others to continue conversing about you. yizhuo just took another slow sip of her punch, knuckles white around the glass. her eyes fixed on nothing at all. 

you felt it from so far away, the thrum of resentment from her. a bitter taste under the sweet party air. the celebration meant to mark your achievements, was slowly building pressure. you knew you could break it. 

hours bled into a blur of champagne flutes, punch glasses, and drunken babble. your sister sat just as the last time you saw her. each compliment for you, each touch, seemed to tighten her silence. but still, you watched her from across the lawn. you knew how her shoulders stiffened when someone praised your perfection, how her eyes dropped when someone mentioned your accomplishments. tonight, though, her usual simmer was boiling over. 

the lantern lights now felt like harsh spotlights. another round of toasts began, while you were talking with your closest cousins, min and hoseok. 

“are they trying to get us wasted?” min asked, admiring the glass that was just handed to her. 

“they’re free drinks, i don’t really care.” her brother, hoseok, downed the glass as soon as he finished his sentence. 

you let out a silent chuckle. “they’re just happy, i guess.” your eyes were already scanning the area, knowing something would happen soon. spotting your father walking up to the dj’s table, you were already chuffed. “oh god, here he goes…”

he took the mic, and the already lowered music was muted. “to y/n! to a future as bright as her mind!” his voice boomed and amplified, washing over the party. the cheers that followed were deafening. he gave you a look of pure adoration, of cherishment, of favoritism. you couldn’t help but to brighten your smile and reciprocate the love you felt all around you. 

as the applause died down, you turned back to your dear cousins already pestering you. 

“so, what’s the after party plans?” hoseok averted his eyes to you, followed by min. 

“whatever you guys plan, i don’t really care.” you said, your eyes already scanning the periphery. 

“oh come on y/n,” min pressed with impatience in her voice. “it’s your night, so give us something you want to do!” 

you shrugged. “dude, anything is fun in this city.”

hoseok leaned in. “is, uh, your sister joining us this time?” 

“she never comes out with us anymore,” min pouted. “she always says next time but we never see her.” 

“how about i go get her, and we ditch this party?” you gave a sly smile. 

“fuck yeah!” they both cheered, giving you a laugh. 

“i’ll back soon,” you said, backing away from the two. “just enjoy all this shit!” you heard them snickering as you walked away, but your concern was your sister. where did she sneak off to this time? 

you started your search near the house, checking the quieter less lit areas first. the small patio off the kitchen was empty save for discarded plates. the narrow path leading to the side gate, which was usually a smoking spot, was clear. you moved, scanning the shadows, dismissing fleeting glimpses of other guests. it was a small thrill, this hunt. you pushed through a thick hedge, entering the less manicured part of the garden, a place of forgotten statues and overgrown bushes. no sign. a flash of dark fabric near the pond, but it was just a discarded jacket. the longer it took, the more anticipation grew. you rounded a bend, the sound of the fountain growing louder. 

and then you found her. near the old stone fountain, half hidden by the polished bench. she wasn’t just sitting. she was raging. not with screams, not with shouts, but with a raw force that ripped through the festive sounds. her hands gripped the fountain edge, knuckles white, nails scraping the stone. a strangled sound tore from her throat repeatedly, muffled by the party, but loud enough to make the fine hairs on your arm stand up. she hunched over, shaking. a single, empty glass shattered against the fountain’s base. the sound was sharp, brittle, cutting through the noise only for you to hear. 

the grin you had on your face fell. this was it. the moment you had been waiting for. you walked towards her, each step measured. the world around you faded until only yizhuo’s ragged breathing and your own pulsing blood filled your ears. 

“yizhuo.” you said, your voice low. it wasn’t a question. 

your poor sister flinched, her head snapping around. her eyes were wide and wild. raw anger, humiliation, and surprise filled them. 

“what do you want?” her voice was a strained whisper, hoarse from whatever silent battle she was fighting. she didn’t move, still hunched, palms still in place. 

you stopped just in front of her, close enough to see the tremble of her lower lip, the rapid pulse at her throat. “what do i want?” you echoed softly. you let your gaze sweep over her, taking in the disarray of her hair, the faint sweat beading at her forehead, the dark smudges under her eyes. “i want to know about this,” you gestured at her vaguely, at the shattered glass, at the trembling. “this tantrum.” 

it’s not a tantrum,” yizhuo hissed, defiance heavy in her voice. “it’s…it’s everything! all of it!”

“all of what, yi?” you bent down to level with her. “your inability to keep up?” your voice stayed low, but each following word was a barb. “your constant, pathetic struggle to even be seen when i’m in the room?”

she recoiled slightly, a low growl escaping her throat. “do you think this is about you?” 

“i know this is about me.” you inched closer to her. “everything is about me, isn’t it? for you.” 

yizhuo’s chest heaved. her eyes, fixed on yours, held desperate intensity. “you don’t know shit.” 

“oh, but i do.” you lifted a hand. you didn’t touch her, not yet. your fingers hovered inches away from her cheek, letting the threat of your touch hang in the air. “i know exactly how you feel. and i know something else, too.” your voice dropped even lower. “i know what you really want.” 

your sister was frozen. the anger in her eyes slowly begin to morph into fear. 

“you want to make it about you,” you purred. “and so that’s what we’ll do.” before the last word even left your mouth, you moved. your hand shot out, gripping her arm, fingers digging into the soft flesh above her elbow. you bent her over the stone bench beside the fountain, a sudden motion that stole her breath. her body arched, a whimper tearing from her lips. 

“what are you doing…”  yizhuo’s voice was a choked whisper. the sound of the distant party, once a muted hum, now felt impossibly far, replaced by the frantic beat of her own heart in her ears. 

you leaned in closer, breath ghosting over her ear, “making it about you, just like you wanted.” your other hand was already at the hem of her dark dress, pulling it up with a swift motion. the flowy material folded on her back, exposing the skin of her thighs. the smooth curve of her ass in her favorite white panties. her breath hitched again, a small sound as her eyes squeezed shut. 

“there it is,” you whispered, a low rasp against her ear. your open palm connected with her exposed thighs with a sharp smack. the sound echoed, swallowed by the distant party. her whole jolted. “you hate being second best, don’t you, little sister?” another stinging strike landed, making her gasp. “but, you love being put in your place. 

you watched her tightly clenched fists, the way her shoulders trembled. her breath came in ragged gasps, but no cries escaped. just raw, helpless sounds. you smoothed your hand over her ass, and leaned in closely, your mouth brushing against her cheek. “you’ll never be as good as me, yizhuo,” your hand creeped to the waistband of her panties. “say it.”

“say what?” she rasped, voice thick with shame. your free hand gripped her throat with firm pressure. you felt the pulse at her throat. a smile spread on your face as you pulled her panties to her knees, exposing her bare ass and pussy to the crisp air. 

“say you’re not as good as me,” you demanded. “say you’ll never be.” you wanted to hear those words so bad, to see the admission in her eyes. your hand creeped down her ass, fingers filing through her already slick folds. you continued further, fingers brushing against her clit a few times. her head thrashed weakly against the cool stone, but still, no words came. “if you want more, then you’ll say it.” you said with tease. 

a single tear came from her squeezed eyes, tracing a path down her flushed cheek. you added more pressure, trying to elicit something out of her. her hips bucked against your hand desperately. her eyes flew open, locked to yours and the tears flowed down her cheek. 

“i-i’m not as good as you,” she choked out, words ragged and broken. “i’ll never be as good as you, y/n..” 

oh, how she crumbled under you, you enjoyed it so much. “that’s a good girl.” you closed in on her face, tongue licking at her tears. slowly removing your fingers from her clit, and hovered two of the digits over her hole. your tongue trailed from licking her cheeks to her lips, pressing your mouth fully against hers. a deep kiss that stole her already shallow breath.

her lips were soft, trembling beneath yours. your tongue delved deeper, intertwining with hers. she let out a slow, deep moan against your lips, desperate and shameless. your free hand, no longer at her throat, slid to the back of her head, tangling in her hair, holding her captive in your kiss as your fingers continued to dance at her entrance. the taste of tears mingled with the sweetness of her mouth. you deepened the kiss making sure she felt every each of your control. 

her hands detached from the bench to your face, pulling you closer. you wanted to tease her so much more, but you couldn’t bear it anymore and you could tell she couldn’t either. you forced your fingers inside her cunt, making her involuntarily clench around your fingers. she cried out as you pushed in and out of her sopping hole. her nails dug into your cheeks, asking for more. you could feel her heat, the way she tightened around your fingers with every thrust, a frantic rhythm building between you. 

you pulled away from the kiss briefly, “look at you,” you admired. “all that resentment, all that jealousy, just for you to be getting fucked by me.” you added another finger with ease, making yizhuo’s back arch impossibly more. her choked cries were now desperate pleas, her body like a bow string on the verge of snapping. her mouth didn’t answer you, only seeking more from your lips, in which you gave in. 

your digits continued their insistent rhythm, bringing her closer and closer to the edge, the tension in her lower half becoming unbearable. just as you noticed her breathing become unstable, you paused, holding perfectly still inside her. this time, she broke the kiss, whining with frustration and even more desperation. your thumb soothed over her cheek, “oh, don’t worry, sister. i’m not finished with you yet.“ 

you withdrew your fingers with a slick sound. with a rough pull, you flipped yizhuo over. her back now on the cool stone, head tilting back, exposing the marks from your hands. her bare legs parted, still trembling from the denied release. 

you got on your knees, not caring if you dirtied your clothes, and stretched your body over hers. your fingers caressed the inner curve of her thighs, slowly up past her still slick pussy, spreading flat against her tummy. your hands moved to trace the curve of her ribs, before grabbing the material left on her body. you pulled the dress gently over her head, throwing it somewhere out of sight, discarding her panties along with it, leaving her entire body bare. 

“you look so pretty like this, yi.” you placed kisses all over her neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin. you could feel the vibrations of her soft moans against your lips. little red marks blossoming across the pale skin of her throat. your hands explored her tits, harshly pulling at her nipples. you rolled the sensitive nubs between your thumb and forefinger, feeling them harden further under your touch. 

“fuck,” the girl gasped, “you feel so good.” you pulled back slightly, just enough to meet her gaze. her pupils were blown, high on thrill. 

“do i, baby?“ you could hear the squelching from the way she clenched around nothing, the word triggering her. you lowered yourself, letting your tongue trace the outline of her left nipple before drawing it into your mouth, suckling deeply. her back arched further, a guttural sound escaping her as you continued to consume her. your free hand slid down her stomach, ghosting the inner of her thighs, inching even closer to her core. 

you switch to the right nipple, performing the same shameful act. spit pooled in your mouth as your tongue nurtured the bud in every way, making sure it was throbbing and distended. your teeth grazed against the nipple, teasing, pulling roughly at the sensitive thing and yizhuo enjoyed every second of it.  her body writhed beneath you so submissively. 

you slowly withdrew your mouth from her breast, leaving it swollen and glistening. your sister whimpered at the loss, but you still weren’t done with her. you placed open mouth kisses all over her tummy, leaving little wet spots all over. each warm press, eliciting a low groan from her mouth as you moved closer and closer to her pussy. 

you admired the sight in front of you. her bare, shaven pussy soaked in wetness, waiting for you to eat. your tongue moved along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, until it finally brushed against her clit. curses spilled from her mouth as you devoured her. your mouth enveloped her, drawing her in with a hungry urgency. the first taste was intoxicating, a sweet and salty rush that made your head spin. your tongue gave supple, flat licks against her clit. her hands tangled in your hair, gripping, pulling. you worked her, mouth suckling, tongue flicking as fast as your jaw would let you. 

you took the chance to insert your fingers back inside her hole. three fingers pressed against her hole all at once, suddenly filling her full. yizhuo was getting bolder, sounds emitting louder and louder from her mouth. the grip she had on your hair was even more needy than before. her thighs sandwiched your head in place, not a care in world if she suffocated you. you plunged your fingers in and out, a steady push and pull to compliment the frantic rhythm of your tongue. the combination was utterly overwhelming. 

“god, you’re gonna make me cum all over your face…” her voice was ragged and strained. she was clenching tighter and tighter around your fingers, tongue furiously assaulting at her clit. it was clear she was going to spill, so you eased your pace and slowed your fingers to a tantalizing speed. she let out a whimper, desperate to let go. “please.” she begged in a broken whisper. 

you leaned up just enough to meet her gaze, tears still falling down her face. a wicked smile playing on your face, “beg prettier for me, baby.” you dove back without a time for a response, continuing your frantic motions with more intensity. your head started to hurt from how intense her legs were closed in on you, but you didn’t care. her lower half rose against your face. you could feel her pussy spasming around your fingers, squeezing so fucking tight. just as you curled them, warm liquid soaked your face. you moaned against her, enjoying the taste of her sweet juices on your tongue. 

sounds ripped from her throat, high broken cries that weren’t quite screams, but loud enough. it was a messy mix of sounds, like she couldn’t decide what noise to make. her breathing was fast and shallow, little puffs of air. you slowed down gradually, eventually stopping once her body had gone limp. a sudden quietness falling over the two of you. you kept your face buried between her legs, lapping up the warm aftermath. your tongue sweeping over her clit and folds, gathering every single drop of her release. her chest heaved as she flinched at the cleaning. her hand loosened its grip on your hair and her legs relaxed. 

you took a moment to gather yourself, wiping your mouth on the inside of your shirt. yizhuo sat watching you, her breath still a little shaky, her eyes puffy and low. the remnants of her climax clung to the air. 

you reached for her dress that you had thrown earlier. “here.” hanging the clothing in her face. 

her hand reached out, fingers brushing up against the fabric. with a soft sigh, she took the dress from you, pulling it over her head and beginning to dress herself. the fabric rustled softly as she worked, covering the damp skin and only the marks below her neck. 

you heaved yourself from the ground, stretching your arms once you reached your feet. “we have somewhere to be soon.”

“hmm?” her voice was soft and hoarse. 

“i told the cousins that i would come look for you so we could go out.” you clarified, gesturing towards the sounds of the party. 

“and you actually want me to go?” yizhuo said, genuinely confused. 

“no, not really, but i guess i have to now.” you replied with a slight shrug in your shoulders. 

“you’re such an asshole.” she muttered, shoving your shoulder as she walked back to the party. you simply laughed, letting her push do a little more than shift your weight. the night air chilled against your arms as you followed a few steps behind her back to the party.

[beetle-ze-bub]

I have this Au idea based on The Deal by Mitski cause for whatever that feels like a Stan Pines song and I can't fully explain why.

Anyways, basically, during Stan's drifter days he stays in some pretty unusual places with more than a few weird characters. So, at some point or another, he somehow hears about this deal you can make with the Night itself. Midnight, walk alone, etc, etc. Just like the song.

Stan has never been one to believe, or even just be interested in spirituality or magic or whatever; that was his brother. But he decides to keep the story in his back pocket, if for no other reason than to have an interesting story to tell people.

But maybe at some point when he's feeling like he's at rock bottom, after something especially bad happened (idk the Tijuana incident or the trunk, or losing his kidney, something like that) – and/or while drunk – he decides, 'Fuck it, I got nothing else to lose', and decides to try the deal just for the sake of it. The worst that could happen is nothing, right?

Like in the song, he tries to give away his soul, because he really is pretty sick of all the hurting and the pain and shit. Also reasoning that, since nothing will likely happen, he might as well go big.

This is where it diverges from the song somewhat. Because for what he'd take I think it'd depend.

If he was drunk and/or in an especially bad spot, I wouldn't be surprised if he said, like the song did, he would only take the consequences. But, at the same time, I think he knows enough about bad deals to realize that if – on the very off chance this is real – he's giving his soul away, it should at least be for something good. Maybe he'd ask to get Rico off his back, or for that million dollars, or make it so he never broke Ford’s project (though I feel like this isn't likely as even in its divine grace, the Night can not change the past. Maybe Stan would even get a feeling somehow, as though the Night tells him this.), or even just to keep Ford safe and/or happy. Idk rn, but yeah.

After the deal is struck, Stan feels lighter somehow. Like something is missing. It's not bad that it's gone. It's not good either. It's just missing.

He'd probably still have the same talk with the bird, but after that I feel like he'd keep drifting across the country. Not out of a need to escape, or hit his big break, but just instinct. Habit.

He'd probably still call his mom, but it's almost professional in how he talks to her, clinical. There's no attachment there, really. He loves her, or at least likes her, to some degree. But it's muffled and smothered, and so, so quiet that he can't make out the sound of it anymore. Like a soft tap at the back of his brain, so light he can hardly recognize it happened. He can't say for sure whether he'd feel much if something happened to her.

Maybe Ford, depending on what Stan wished for, suddenly finds the night welcoming. Something caring and kind and protective of him in a way he can't really explain. Obviously it can't be, it's the night; just a time of day. It's not doing anything. But he still can't help but feel that way.

Or maybe even his life has suddenly gotten so much better. He's suddenly been offered a bunch of grants, people are vying for his research or his reviews of their work. He's being offered hundreds of prestigious positions and people are dying to have him give interviews or lectures. And while Ford is obviously ecstatic, and riding the high of all this praise and his accomplishments being recognized and getting everything he's ever wanted (what about his brother?), he can't exactly… remember, what he accomplished or published that got him all this attention.

But that doesn't matter! He's sure it'll come to him! He's just too focused on his now busy schedule, that's why he forgot. After that he has to get back to his current anomaly research too. But he's sure it'll come to him in time.

Again, depending on what Stan wished for exactly, and even what time he made the wish, maybe Ford sends the postcard to Stan again; whether it's about Bill or something else, idk. But when Stan comes something's wrong. It looks like Stan, talks relatively like Stan.

But he's empty. As though he's been drained of everything Ford remembers made Stan Stan. He was ready for a hot-headed, angry brother. Not this… shell.

If Ford still opened the door with his crossbow, he would be visibly surprised, sure. His eyes widened, his mouth opened in shock, he even took a step or 2 back. But there was no scream. There was no snarky comment or angry blow up at his behavior. If Ford still shone a light in his eyes Stan still pushed him off him and frowned, but he only said “Stop that.” in a mildly upset voice. When Ford apologized Stan said “It's fine”.

…And that was it. No biting remarks or angry glares. Just an awkward silence as Ford stared at this facsimile of his brother.

When he tells Stan he has to show him something he wouldn't believe, he only asks “What is it?” Even when staring the portal down, while, again, he is shocked. It's only in the generic way you'd see in something like a stock photo, or some guide book on emotions. Only in the basest, least-effort way you could get someone to understand you were displaying shock.

Because that's what it felt like, Ford realizes. A display. Like the emotions weren't real. Or if they were, they were so shallow that might as well be. The display wouldn't even last long. The briefest of flashes before fizzling out unceremoniously and disappearing completely.

Idk maybe something something, Ford finds out what happened somehow, goes bird hunting in some fairytale, fae esque trial of character way or something. My main idea was the Stan making the deal and the empty birdcage Stan that comes as a result.

[phantomcomet]

Been wanting to replay Fallen Order and am now having obikin au thoughts.

Anakin is still a padawan when Order 66 happens. Like Cal, he's on a ship with Obi-Wan when the order goes out. They fight their way to an escape pod before Obi-Wan is injured. Anakin tries to go back for him and Obi-Wan launches the pod, hoping Anakin will survive.

(Alt thought, they're both at the Temple as it falls. Same dealio with Obi-Wan sacrificing himself to get Anakin out.)

Anakin spends the next ten years thinking Obi-Wan is dead. He hides and fights when he can, before eventually getting exposed and being hunted by the Inquisitors. He more or less stumbles his way into the Rebellion at that point.

Mostly, I just want the reunion scene when they find each other again after all that time. The moment of shock, of seeing a ghost they've living with for a decade, finally in the flesh. Anakin throwing himself at Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan's hands shaking as he slowly cups the back of his head. For everything that Obi-Wan has lost, his master, his friends, his entire way of life, he has not lost this. That for once the Force has been so kind as to give him something Back. That his padawan is alive and with him once again is a blessing and a miracle.

The moment is of course ruined by Anakin, who has held a grudge for ten years, getting furious over the fact that Obi-Wan launched his ass into space to protect him, when they should have fought side by side.

Other thought- Obi-Wan following closer to Cere's plotline. He touches the darkside at one point and cuts himself off from the Force. Anakin, like Trilla, ends up becoming an Inquisitor. The absolute angst from Obi-Wan, blaming himself for being unable to save Anakin, for nearly falling himself. Anakin blaming Obi-Wan for not saving him, but also desperate to have that connection back, all the while tracking him across the Galaxy.

There's a lot of clashes, of Obi-Wan desperately trying to reach him, to find the light he believes still exists, but being so terrified of touching the dark again that he won't reopen the bond. How can he save Anakin when he can't even trust himself not to be sucked into the dark?

Anyway, there's a scene later one where Obi-Wan gets caught. Anakin is to kill him to prove his loyalty to Sidious, to cut down his former master and swear himself to the Empire. Obi-Wan looks at him with resignation and acceptance, because isn't this what he deserves? To be cut down by the padawan he failed?

With nothing left to lose, he reaches for his bond with Anakin. Anakin is waiting for him. Obi-Wan is trying to stop him, but he wants him to know that he loved him, still loves him even now, and that he forgives him for what he's about to do, and that he's so sorry he wasn't able to save him, protect him, to be the master he needed.

And then Anakin turns and cuts down Sidous with absolutely no fanare. Immediate pandemonium follows and Obi-Wan and Anakin skedaddle. Emotional reunion scene after, with Anakin injured and clingy and Obi-Wan holding him close, realizing that there might still be hope after all.

(They end up joining the rebellion in this one too, since there's still an entire empire to dismantle, emperor or no.)

[mymusingss]

Look, I am not a math genius but I can't stop thinking about this.

McQ wins an award the same year as Nicole Kidman did, years before he met Tom, when Nicole and Tom were still married. What are the odds of that?

McQ was about to give up on Hollywood because no one was taking a chance on him. And you can tell he meant it when he said it. He was done.

But coincidentally, he was at a restaurant one day when he heard someone talk about Tom in a negative light. Again, what are the odds of him being in that restaurant that day, of him listening to the conversation and of these people even having that conversation at the same time at all?

But it doesn't stop there, no. For some reason, he decides to go through a lot of trouble to meet Tom, something he said he has never done before.

It is bonkers to me that McQ was ready to give up, was going to, literally just wanted to be able to pay off his debt so he could be done with Hollywood. Like if he hadn't listened to that conversation, he would probably have found someone to sell his scripts to and would have left without meeting Tom. That is wild to me that one single conversation led to them meeting.

It is even wilder that Chris could have done what he set out to do: He could have produced Valkyrie, collected his paycheck and left. You can tell he was absolutely done with it, but between Valkyrie and Ghost Protocol, something changed.

In Ghost Protocol, Tom needed his help and he went - seemingly without question - during a holiday most would spend with their families. He went and helped and did a lot of work without taking any credit. Which, are we to believe Tom didn't offer to give him? Because he is a producer, I am sure he would have told McQ they would credit him for his input and if I am right, McQ must have denied the offer.

And that could have been the end of it. But it wasn't.

He kept coming back.

Even with all the exhaustion, even with all the worrying and logistics, he chose to keep coming back to MI instead of giving the script to other directors. And if we think about the fact that this absolutely took a toll on him, on them both, but yet he kept coming even if he already had all the tools to just leave is so telling, in my opinion.

There was nothing stopping McQ from collecting his paycheck, leaving and just spending the rest of his life on some nice coastal city without any stress, and yet he never went for it.

Because listen, this is his best friend he had to direct for years. This is a man who he has clearly grown to love and admire and cherish, and this is a fucking movie star whose life literally relies on them being meticulous with their stunts.

Tom's live was on the line for most of these movies. Can you imagine how stressful it is to know that your best friend is dangling himself from a plan and that if something goes wrong, it will be on you?

Can you imagine accepting that you'd literally rather die with him than receive the news that he has died because that would be too unbearable for you to hear?

I do not wish to be in McQ's shoes during those moments. During the times where Tom was literally yeeting himself from a cliff and McQ was staring at the screen praying that the parachute would open. And then having to go through that again.

All I am saying is that we shouldn't take for granted the fact that McQ could have walked away over a decade ago, but despite how much he has said he was ready to do it, he has never followed through with it.

[saltedfishmaiden]

When I was writing my post about why Sanji loves love, why he sometimes seems too much invested in the concept and idea of it which goes deeper than being only a hopeless romantic, I got to the part with Judge and Luffy, and then wanted to make a whole post about that.

There's this sentiment that Sanji didn't need to have another story with Germa or this added background seems pointless. And while I get it somewhat, I also enjoy getting two cakes and have my fun by poking at parallels and contrasts. So here are all my thoughts and ramblings on the subject. 

I feel WCI is to Sanji in One Piece that Enchantix was to Bloom in Winx Club. For getting that enchantix transformation, all the fairies had to sacrifice something for their people. And while Bloom still gets her transformation, it wasn't at its complete because she hadn't fulfilled the condition of her transformation. Because, you know, she didn't have her people left. (I am talking about season 3, not the newer seasons). 

So how is it even remotely similar to Sanji's Germa origins? Or even ties in with Judge vs Luffy? This got quite lengthy, so under the cut, here we go:

Luffy stands as a figure of freedom and liberation. He has freed islands, thrown off corrupt governments and has saved many, many people. You should start doing good things from your home. And Luffy does it by saving every member of his crew too. But if you closely look at the flashbacks before and during the 3D2Y thing, one of them doesn't hold the same weight as the other. (It didn't for me, at least.) 

Most of the others have flashbacks to being rescued from high stakes situations. Sanji's flashback has a bigger focus on the scene where he asks Luffy if he has ever heard of the All Blue.

Luffy saved Zoro from being killed by Marines, from a death that comes from betrayal and not with a warrior's honor. He saves Kaya, Usopp, and Syrup Village from a fate that was going to befall them. Nami asks for Luffy’s help and he defeats Arlong. He declares war on the world government for Robin. Taking Franky with him so the WG doesn't constantly hunt him down is his decision in the end. Brook spent five decades in literal darkness. Luffy saves him, defeats Moria to restore their shadows, and takes him out of the waters he was stuck for so long at. He is the reason Brook can see sunlight again. He brings the light to the darkness Brook had been in. By launching the prison break, he sets Jinbei free from his cell in the Impel Down. 

Yes he saves Sanji too by fighting Don Krieg. But it differs here that after being set free from their captors or situations, the strawhats have an impact that becomes a trait or a part of their personality. 

Nami doesn't have to free her village any longer. So she's more assertive in taking charge of everyone's finances. Zoro takes quickly to piracy and while his own condition was never jeopardizing his dream, he was ready to give up for Luffy’s life. Robin decides she wants to live. Brook becomes more cheery. Chopper learns some people will love him Because he is a monster. While initially he doesn't want to be one, he is ready to become one for Luffy post time skip.

Coming back to Luffy at Baratie.. he does defeat Don Krieg. (Luffy wasn't the only one influencing his decision. Zoro's refusal to back down from his dream was doing something to his brain too.) But look at it from Sanji's angle:

A pirate crew returns from the Grand Line and attacks a ship on the East Blue that he currently calls his current home. That sounds very familiar though. 

A pirate saves him from a seemingly worse fate after that attack. That too has already happened. 

For Sanji, it's probably another Tuesday. Even if it probably repeats every nine years or so.

Interestingly, Sanji doesn't actually change after Baratie is saved by Luffy. He's still all traits and characteristics that he was. He was ready to die on the Baratie. Then, from Drum Island and onwards, his sacrificial tendencies and (passively) suicidal behavior becomes a recurring theme. At the restaurant, he declares he is ready to die because dying is how he can repay Zeff for saving him. Luffy tells him it's stupid and Zeff didn't save Sanji for him to pull this. But Sanji still keeps this stance, which he again repeats at Thriller Bark that he has always been ready to die. This thing continues post time skip too, as seen in Dressrosa where he was ready for his fate by willingly giving himself up to save the crewmates on the ship. 

So Sanji had yet to change that streak. And it makes you wonder WHY he is so ready to die, to put other's lives and dreams above his own, why his self worth is lower than Punk Hazard’s temperature? Because, again, Zeff didn't save Sanji so he can throw himself away every chance he gets. So where does his behavior even come from? A random nobody kid on a cruise ship shouldn't come with this much baggage. Then why does he? 

Those questions are answered with the WCI arc. Father vs father figure gets the focus. But Zeff isn't physically present there. You know who is? Luffy! The center stage is taken by authority figure vs authority figure. Or, well, leader versus authority figure. And the two couldn't be more different. Which the arc shows throughout.

Judge is a colonizer and symbolizes oppression. In contrast to him, Luffy is the liberator, symbolizing freedom. One of them is power hungry, the other craves freedom. Judge is someone who thrives on hierarchy, on being the biggest, the oldest, the one who looms over others. Luffy is the captain but he is also the second youngest, and usually lets his crewmates do their own thing. 

When Sanji goes back to his bio family, he ends up beaten. When Luffy catches up to him, and Sanji reacts to send him away, Luffy refuses to fight him back. While Judge ignores Sanji's pain and hurt, Luffy acknowledges it. Judge refuses to give Sanji any choice in being used as a pawn. Luffy asks Sanji what he wants. 

Judge goes back against his own word that he had bound Sanji to. Luffy makes a promise of staying there come whatever. Luffy binds himself to his promise. Judge is ready to blow up Sanji's hand. Luffy was ready to give up his own.

What Judge says he doesn't do. Luffy always does what he says.

Luffy picked Sanji as his cook at the Baratie before ever tasting his food. On Whole Cake, the food is ruined but Luffy had nothing but praise. The two stories, both, have Luffy choosing Sanji and it's not because of how good the food is. 

Judge puts everything above Sanji and Luffy puts Sanji above everything else. 

Whatever Judge does, Luffy does the opposite. We have Sanji realizing that he's worth it too. That no, he shouldn't be thrown in a dungeon or used as a chip. 

(Back to my kinda silly comparison to Bloom’s enchantix, isn't it interesting Sanji awakens his own sense of self worth while saving his family too?) 

He changes from that point forward. He asks Robin for help. He questions if Luffy would want him more useful or how he is. And doesn't wait for an answer. Because he already has one. Luffy isn't Judge. For the latter, everything is about usefulness and that's why Sanji is a failure because of what he can't do. But now Sanji knows he is Sora’s success and he already knew Luffy has never cared for what others are of use to him. 

Sanji has never doubted Luffy. He just hasn't believed himself of any worth.

Luffy at Baratie was throwing hands with a pirate who failed on the Grand Line, in exchange of not being the chore boy any longer. Luffy on Whole Cake Island was throwing hands with an Emperor of the Sea for someone he deemed worth more than his dream. That's the difference. 

[pohtaytoh]

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗬/𝗟/𝗡

*ೃ༄ Megan Skiendiel x f!reader

Everyone ships Megan Skiendiel with your brother Gabriel, convinced they're endgame. He's always taking credit for the sweet gestures that make Megan swoon, and she totally believes he's the one. But you, Y/N Y/L/N, have been secretly head over heels for Megan for years. You're the one leaving those thoughtful gifts and sending those encouraging messages, watching your brother bask in the glory.

But as Megan starts spending more time with you, she can't shake this feeling. Now Megan's wondering if the person she's really meant to be with has been right in front of her all this time.

part: one. two. <three.> four. five. six.

Y/N Y/L/N truly believed it deep in her heart. She was the wrong Y/L/N. The words kept playing over and over in her head, a low, sad hum behind her ears.

Her brother, Gabriel, was the flashy one, the loud one, the one who could charm anyone without even trying, and that included Megan. He was like the sun around whom everyone else seemed to turn and Y/N? She was the quiet one, the one who watched from the edges.

She felt things very deeply, but she kept those feelings locked away, hidden tightly inside. She was the one who loved from the shadows, like an invisible hand giving comfort and doing thoughtful things that Gabriel then simply took credit for.

This had become a pattern, a painful rhythm to her life that had gone on for years, like a broken record playing the same sad song. She felt stuck, always watching, always aching inside. She had almost, almost, started to accept this as her fate.

She told herself, “Just keep loving her from a distance, just keep doing good things in secret, and maybe, just maybe, Megan will always be happy, even if I'm not the one making her happy.”

It was a small, sad comfort she tried to hold onto, a very fragile shield against her own growing heartbreak.

But sometimes, the world has its own plans. Sometimes, even when you think everything is completely set in stone, fixed forever, a tiny, almost invisible crack appears, and through that small crack, a sliver of unexpected light can pour in, bright and surprising.

The change started in a very subtle way. So subtle, in fact, that at first, Y/N barely even noticed it. It wasn't about big, grand gestures anymore. It wasn't about the stolen chai lattes or the study guides Gabriel had claimed as his own. This was something different, something much quieter, much more personal.

Megan was, little by little, starting to seek Y/N out. Not to ask for favors, not to complain about a class, but just to talk. To share thoughts. To just be together.

The very first clear sign came on a Tuesday, late in the afternoon. Y/N was sitting on a simple bench outside the university library, sketching in her old, worn notebook. The air was cool, carrying the familiar smells of damp earth after a light rain and the tempting scent of street food from a nearby vendor.

She was drawing one of the ancient, gnarled mango trees that stood like old guardians all over the campus, focusing on the twisted roots that broke through the concrete walkways. She was completely lost in her own quiet world, the gentle sound of her pencil moving against the paper filling her ears. Then, a soft shadow fell over her page.

"That's really beautiful, Y/N," a soft voice said, making Y/N jump a little. She looked up, startled, to see Megan standing there. Megan had a small, genuine smile on her face.

She wasn't rushing, wasn't looking around for anyone else. She was just… there, standing quietly, looking at Y/N's drawing with true interest.

"The way you captured the roots... They look like old hands reaching up from the ground. I never noticed that about these trees before."

Y/N’s face warmed, a blush spreading across her cheeks. She quickly closed her sketchbook, feeling a sudden wave of shyness. "Oh, thanks, Megan," she mumbled, trying to sound casual. "Just messing around, really. You know, doodling."

Megan shook her head gently. She then moved to sit on the bench beside Y/N, leaving a comfortable amount of space between them. "No, seriously," Megan insisted.

"You really see things. You notice details others completely miss. Your brother always just rushes past these trees, always on his phone, probably texting or scrolling. He probably doesn't even know they're here, or how amazing they look."

Megan chuckled softly, a light, airy sound, but there was a hint of something else in her voice – a touch of thoughtful sadness, maybe?

"You really pay attention to the world around you."

That was the first crack in Y/N's carefully built wall. Y/N’s heart did a strange little flip-flop, a dizzying somersault inside her chest. She had to swallow hard to keep her voice steady, to stop herself from showing any sign of the sudden earthquake happening deep inside her.

“She noticed me. She saw me. And she... she compared me to Gabriel. And I came out on top.”

It was a quiet thought, but it vibrated through her whole body, making her feel both incredibly vulnerable and strangely powerful.

After that moment, the "coincidences" started piling up, one after another, until they weren't coincidences at all. Megan would stop by Y/N's dorm room more often. Sometimes it was just for a quick chat before class, a passing "Hey, how's your day going?" But then she'd start to linger.

She’d lean against Y/N's doorframe, then slowly, casually, she would just fall onto Y/N's worn bean bag chair, sprawling out in a relaxed way that showed she felt completely comfortable and at ease there. Then, before Y/N even realized it, hours would melt away as they talked about everything.

One evening, it was raining very hard. Megan knocked softly on Y/N's door, looking a little tired and stressed about a big upcoming philosophy exam.

"Mind if I just... exist in here for a bit?" Megan asked, her voice quiet, rubbing her temples as if trying to soothe a headache. "My roommate is on a super loud video call with her family, and I seriously can't focus on anything."

"Come in, Megs," Y/N said, a warm, soft feeling spreading through her chest at Megan's easy presence. Megan settled onto the beanbag, letting out a long, tired sigh.

"This philosophy stuff is seriously killing me, Y/N," Megan confessed, opening her thick textbook with a groan. "I just don't get it. Like, at all. Gabriel tried to explain it to me earlier, but he just kinda... summarized the slides really fast. I need to understand the why’s, you know? Not just the facts."

Y/N paused from her own reading, setting her book down gently. "Which concept are you stuck on?" she asked softly, truly wanting to help Megan figure it out.

Megan pointed to a confusing paragraph in her textbook. Y/N read it, taking her time, then looked back at Megan with a thoughtful expression.

"Okay, so think of it like this..." And for the next whole hour, Y/N didn't just explain the answers, she broke the confusing ideas down piece by piece, drawing little diagrams on a scrap piece of paper, using simple, everyday examples that made sense. She watched Megan’s eyes closely, seeing the exact moment understanding clicked, like a light suddenly turning on.

"Oh my gosh," Megan breathed, leaning back against the beanbag, a look of pure awe and relief on her face. "Y/N, that actually makes so much sense! Why didn't anyone explain it like that before? Seriously, you make it so clear, even to me."

She shook her head slightly, a small, thoughtful frown appearing on her brow. "Your brother just told me to Google it and then gave up. He said, 'It's just philosophy, Megs, don't sweat it too much.' "

She chuckled softly at the memory but there was a hint of something else in her voice, a touch of disappointment, maybe, or a dawning realization?

"But with you, it’s different. You actually make me think. My brain actually lights up, you know? It's exciting."

Y/N’s heart did that dizzying somersault again, only this time, it felt stronger, more real, like a solid, joyful thump.

She had to swallow hard, fighting back a sudden lump in her throat, a wave of emotion she didn't want to show.

"Yeah?" she managed, trying her best to sound casual, like this was a normal, everyday thing for Megan to say.

"I mean, I just like talking to you, Megs. You have a really interesting way of looking at things. You make me think too. It's cool."

Megan smiled then, a genuine, warm smile that wasn't just on her lips but shone deep in her eyes, making Y/N’s whole world pause and tilt. It was a smile of true connection, a deep, quiet recognition.

"You too, Y/N. You just… get it. Like, you see things that no one else does. You see me.”

The last part was spoken almost to herself, a quiet realization that seemed to ripple through the air between them, making the silence that followed feel deep and meaningful, not awkward at all.

It was as if Megan was discovering a new, important part of herself, a part that was perfectly reflected in Y/N’s quiet understanding and presence.

In that moment, surrounded by the drumming rain and the quiet hum of the university dorm, Y/N felt a connection with Megan that went far beyond any stolen credit or public praise.

It was a raw, real, authentic thread, woven between just the two of them, untouched by outside expectations, untouched by Gabriel's charming but often surface-level presence.

It was a connection that spoke directly to Y/N's pining heart, whispering a dangerous hope. Megan might have believed the world's story about her and Gabriel, but her own heart, it seemed, was starting to whisper a different name. The doubt, however tiny, was beginning to grow in her mind, not about Gabriel being a bad person, but about him truly being the right person for her.

That Gabriel was the wrong Y/L/N all along.

These deep conversations, mixed with moments of easy laughter, started to become a regular thing. Megan would often just appear at Y/N’s door, sometimes with a new book she was excited to talk about, sometimes just to vent about a frustrating class, but always, always, ending up talking about something deeper, something that truly mattered to her.

They’d talk for hours about the complex plots of their favorite true-crime podcasts, debating theories, arguing playfully over who the real suspect was. They’d dive into the hidden meanings of Emily Dickinson’s poems, comparing their favorite verses, discovering new layers together that neither had seen on their own.

Y/N would find herself quoting lines from stanzas, and Megan's eyes would widen in genuine surprise and delight.

"You get that too?" Megan would ask, a rare, unbridled excitement in her voice, leaning closer to Y/N. "I thought I was the only one who saw that! Gabriel just shrugs and says poetry is too deep for him and walks away." There was a little sigh in her voice when she mentioned Gabriel.

One evening, Megan brought over her laptop, looking completely defeated. She was stressed out about a particularly confusing coding problem for a group project, a huge part of her final grade. Gabriel was supposed to be helping her, but he’d "had something come up" – probably another party or a casual hangout with his friends.

Y/N, who had a quiet knack for logic and coding puzzles, even though it wasn't her main subject, just patiently sat with her. She didn’t just give Megan the answers, she gently guided her, step by step, explaining the why behind each line of code, watching as understanding slowly dawned in Megan’s eyes, like a light suddenly coming on in a dark room.

As Megan finally fixed the frustrating bug, a smile lighting up her face, she leaned back, looking at Y/N with a profound, almost reverent appreciation.

"Y/N," she said, her voice soft, filled with wonder. "You're amazing. Seriously. Your brother just tells me to Google things or tries to do it for me, but he never actually explains it. You actually make me understand it. It’s... really cool. You make me feel smart, like I can actually learn this stuff."

Y/N’s stomach fluttered, a rush of warmth spreading through her veins. This was new. This was truly different. Gabriel never made her understand. He just did (or claimed to have done) things, without teaching or truly helping her grow.

The contrast between her conversations with Y/N and her interactions with Gabriel became clearer and clearer to Megan every single day. With Gabriel, it was easy laughter, surface-level fun, and big, obvious gestures that sometimes felt hollow.

He was charming, yes, and always there for a party or a quick favor, but Megan was starting to feel like he was playing a role, like he was always putting on a show for her and for others. With Y/N, it was deep. It was a thoughtful conversation. It was an intellectual challenge and quiet, steady comfort.

It was the feeling of being truly heard, truly seen, not just admired for her soccer skills or her bright smile. It felt real, truly real. Megan was slowly, painfully, starting to grasp the difference, a slow dawning of realization that was hard to ignore.

Y/N, on her part, began to notice Megan watching her, too, not just in passing glances. Sometimes, Y/N would be sketching in her notebook, or quietly humming a song under her breath as she studied, and she’d look up to find Megan’s gaze already on her.

It was a soft, thoughtful look that made Y/N’s cheeks warm and her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t the casual glance Megan gave everyone else, it was something deeper, more intense, a look filled with curiosity and a growing warmth that felt almost like a touch. It was a look that made Y/N’s heart pound a desperate rhythm against her ribs, a rhythm that was both terrifying and utterly exhilarating.

Then came the moment that felt like a quiet explosion, a turning point that would change everything, a conversation that echoed the exact pain Y/N had felt for so long from Gabriel’s thoughtless actions. They were sitting outside, on a surprisingly warm afternoon in late November, beneath one of those old mango trees whose roots twisted like ancient veins above the ground.

The sun was slowly setting, painting the sky in beautiful hues of orange and purple. They were talking about their dreams for the future, something Y/N rarely shared with anyone, especially not Gabriel, who usually just joked about getting rich and famous without much effort.

Megan was quiet for a moment, tracing patterns on the ground with her finger, a thoughtful frown on her face. Then she looked up.

"Y/N," she began, her voice low and steady, almost a whisper that carried immense weight. "Do you ever feel like... like you're talking to someone, but they're not really hearing you? Like they're just waiting for their turn to talk, or they only hear what they want to hear, or what benefits them?" She looked straight into Y/N's eyes, searching for understanding.

Y/N froze, her blood turning to ice, then back to fire, burning with a new kind of intensity. This was it. This was the conversation she’d always both dreaded and secretly longed for. It was the moment the hidden pain of years might finally be revealed.

"Yeah," Y/N admitted, her voice barely a whisper, the word catching in her throat, a lump forming. "Yeah, Megs, I know exactly what you mean. It's... it's really frustrating. It feels very lonely."

Megan nodded slowly, her eyes wide, searching Y/N’s face for understanding, for shared experience, for a sign that Y/N truly knew this feeling.

"With you," she said, her voice filled with a profound softness that made Y/N’s breath hitch, "it's never like that. You actually listen. You remember things I say, even the small ones. You… you just get me. Like, even the weird, small parts of me that I don't show anyone else. The parts that like poetry and get stressed about philosophy and worry about the future and what comes next." She paused again, then a small, sad smile touched her lips, a deep regret shadowing her eyes.

"I actually feel more like myself when I'm with you than I do... with anyone else. It's like I can finally breathe."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken meaning, with years of hidden longing finally being acknowledged, even if Megan didn't fully realize the full depth of what she was saying, or the full impact of her words on Y/N.

Y/N’s heart was absolutely pounding. It felt like it might burst right out of her chest, a frantic drumbeat against her ribs. This was everything she had ever hoped for, and everything she had ever feared. Megan was seeing her. Truly seeing her, for the first time. Not just as Gabriel's sibling, not just as a classmate, but as Y/N, the person who understood her.

Megan then sighed, a small, thoughtful sound, a new kind of doubt clouding her usual bright eyes. "It's weird," she continued, almost to herself, her voice tinged with a confusion Y/N recognized.

"Gabriel's great, he's so much fun, but... sometimes it feels like he's acting or like he's just playing a part that he thinks everyone wants to see. Like he just knows how to make everyone think he's thoughtful, but... it doesn't always feel real, you know? It's like a shallow pond, pretty but not deep."

Her eyes met Y/N's again, a hint of deep realization, and a touch of hurt, slowly dawning in them. "But with you, it's always real. Always. You’re... just you. And that's... everything."

Y/N could only stare back, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, the emotions too big, too overwhelming to contain. This was everything she had ever hoped for, and everything she had ever feared.

The confession hung in the air, a fragile, beautiful thing, a delicate bubble that might pop if she breathed too hard. It felt like a missing piece of a puzzle had finally snapped into place, not just for Y/N, but for Megan too, revealing a beautiful picture neither of them had fully seen before.

Megan wasn't talking about romance yet, not with direct words, but she was talking about a connection, a deep, undeniable pull towards Y/N’s true self, a bond that ran far deeper than any superficial charm.

Her heart ached, not with sadness this time, but with a mix of hope and vulnerability. Hope that this quiet shift meant something more, something real and lasting. Fear that it might all disappear, or that the full truth about Gabriel, and Y/N’s own hidden feelings, would cause more pain than she could possibly bear.

Yet in that moment, under the old mango tree, with Megan looking at her with such raw honesty, with her usual dazzling eyes now filled with a new kind of wonder, Y/N felt hope bloom in her chest.

Megan might have believed the world's story about her and Gabriel, but her own heart, it seemed, was starting to whisper a very different name – a name that was, finally, Y/N’s own.

previous part | next part.

[myinconnelly1]

Decoy

Pairing : John Walker x Reader (Sunny)

Medieval AU

Warnings: Implied Rape (nothing Graphic), character injury, PTSD symptoms

A/N: This is an AU off branch from my normal Sunny & Honey work. But headcannons still mostly apply. in my mind this takes place after Slow Down 2

“Hey, have you guys seen Sunny,” John asked the team as he came into the meeting hall.

“She’s probably getting ready with the princess,” Ava said.  She, Bucky, and Honey were looking over papers getting ready to give the King his update.

“They didn’t answer the door, I asked Yelena if she saw them, but she hadn’t.”  That got everyone’s attention.

“Get Bob,” Bucky said to Honey.  “Let’s go,” The remaining three members of the team walked out of the meeting hall and down to the princess’s rooms.  Bucky knocked clearly and firmly.  “Princess, we are coming in.”

He kicked the door open ten seconds later, giving time to clear the way.

“Oh God,” Ava whispered as they looked around the room.  It was a disaster. Glass, wood, and clothing were everywhere.

“Ava, get Yelena and Alexi, John get the horses.  I’ll notify the king,” Bucky said as the team took their tasks and moved with purpose.

“Do we know where we are going?” Yelena asked as everyone mounted their horses.

“The King received a ransom demand,” Bucky said.  “We know where they are.”

“If Sunny is there, she might not last very long,” Ava said seriously.

“If they know which one is the princess, you mean,” Alexi said with something akin to a grin.  “I can barely tell those girls apart.”

“Neither of those is a comfort right now,” Yelena said elbowing him.  She looked over to John who was being uncharacteristically quiet.  She knew he was hurting.

They took off riding to where the messenger had come from.  They dismounted their horses before going into the building to meet with the kidnapper.

“Bucky,” Yelena whispered as they were walking up to where a man was sitting.  She nodded her head to the group behind Bucky.  “John’s not with us.”  Her voice was barely above a breath as she spoke the very important news.

“Son of a bitch,” Bucky cursed as he kept his composure to the best of his ability.

John had waited for everyone else to go inside the building before splitting off on his own.  He was not about to let Bucky bargain for the princess’s life.  And he was not going to take the risk of something happening to you.  He crept along the shadow of the building before finding a larder entrance.  He knew there was no way to be stealthy about opening those doors, but he did his best.  Only opening the door enough for him to slide through and down the stairs.

It was dark down here.  Light showed from the end of the hall, and he moved carefully and quietly.

“No, you idiot, there is only one princess,” someone said in a condescending tone.  “The other one is her bodyguard.”

“Well, which one is which?” another man asked.

“Don’t matter,” the first one sneered.  John peered around the corner.  The men had their backs to him, and just past them, John saw the princess and Sunny.  It was true that you were hard to tell apart, but John always knew.

He drew his sword and quickly dispatched the two useless guards. He realized to his dismay that both you and the princess had been knocked unconscious.  He would not be able to carry both of you back out the way that he had come, at least not at the same time.  He felt a pain in his chest, knowing that he was going to have to leave you here and make a second trip.  He moved over to the princess and picked her up, then moved as quickly as he could down the dark hallway back to the exit.

Bucky and the rest were fighting their way back out of the building.  The meeting with the kidnapper had ended as soon as men started shouting that someone was in the basement.

“John what the hell are you doing?!” Bucky shouted as the group came out through the front doors.  John had laid the princess up on the horse and was about to make his way back into the tunnel.

“Sunny’s still down there,” he said, begging to be allowed to go back in after her.

“We have to go!” Ava shouted.  They all mounted their horses and retreated.

“I would like an explanation,” the King said firmly, his eyes ablaze as he looked at his guard.  Honey had her hand on Bob’s arm squeezing tightly, and looking at Bucky to discern what had happened.

“My King, John, successfully rescued your daughter, without us having to negotiate any loss on your behalf.

“And what of the other member of your team?” he asked.

“She is still being held.  We would like your permission to go retrieve her.”  Yelena spoke up this time, cutting John off before he could say anything that would get him in trouble.

“You have it,” the king said shortly.  “I owe her that much since she kept my daughter alive long enough for you all to rescue her.  And James,” he stopped the team from leaving.  “You kill everyone there responsible for stealing my daughter.”

“Yes, sir.” Bucky agreed.

“Go get your girl,” Alexi said as they rode back up on the building.  “We will handle the rest.”

“Go to the cabin,” Yelena agreed.  “We will send word in the next couple of days when it is safe.”

Again, John split off from his team.  His family.  They would cover him as he rescued you this time.  The hall from the larder door was still dark, but there was noise coming from the end of it.  He heard your sobbing and your quiet pleas.

“Sunny,” he whispered as he came to where he knew you would be.  You were lying, manacled to the ground, on your side in your white shift.  It was peppered with dirt and blood.  Little nicks and cuts covered the exposed parts of your skin. “God, Sunny, it’s okay.  I’ve got you.”  The keys to your shackles were nowhere to be seen.  “Close your eyes,” he said.  Then he raised his sword and brought it crashing down on the manacles.  They fell open, and you rolled onto your back and stood slowly.

“I can walk,” You winced.  John reached out to help steady you, but you recoiled, motioning for him to lead the way out.  He got you out and onto his horse.  The sounds of fighting inside the building were in full swing, and he quickly got behind you on the horse.  You bit the inside of your cheek as you kept any sounds of distress and discomfort to yourself.

The ride to the cabin was awful.  You were constantly looking over your shoulder to make sure that you weren’t followed.  Every sound in the woods caught your attention, making you tense up.  You got off of the horse and into the Cabin as fast as you could move.

“We’re safe, Yelena will send word in a few days to tell us that we can go back to the castle,”  John said as he brought his saddle bags inside.

You needed to get clean.  Needed to take the awful reminders off your body.  Your skin felt hot as you started to claw at the shift on your body.

“Sunny, what the hell?” John cursed as he dropped his bags and moved to help you get untangled from your dress.

“No!” You screamed as his hands touched your wrists.  It was too much.  You tried to pull away from him as you struggled with the offending garment.

“Sunny, hey, Sunny, it’s okay.  John tore the dress from you and tried to pull you against his chest to comfort you.  You slapped at his chest and clawed at his face, managing to leave a scratch on his cheek.  “What the fuck, Sunny?!” he cried as he got your arms under control and pulled you tight.  You collapsed against him sobbing as tears rolled down your cheeks.

“Please,” you whimpered.

“Did they hurt you?” he asked.  He wanted to slap himself for being so stupid.  Of course, they hurt you.  Then a darker thought occurred to him.  He turned you in his grip so that you were facing him and he held you just far enough back to see your face.  “Sunny, did they touch you?”

You didn’t respond.  Couldn’t.  All you could do was hang your head and cry.

[ryy-bread]

for my astro twin @cutetrilobite2 !!

What keeps a star together?

Stars are formed by molecular clouds, basically large groups of space dust that are an insane amount of times bigger than the sun. They can span literally thousands of light-years, so their sheer mass makes them cold! This causes gases to "harden" and clump together.

These clumps (that's such a stupid fucking word. clump) collide together and create a protostar! Basically a baby star.

(fun fact, the prefix proto means beginning, or first of :D)

Now, what actually keeps a star together? It's the same thing that causes its life cycles!

After millions of years, the star continues to grow through processes that form helium, squeezing hydrogen atoms together. This pressure and force reliant on an atom's ability to morph and stay together is known as nuclear fission! Nuclear fission also releases heat energy, which makes stars burn!!! Hence binding it and giving us identification to its life cycle!!!!! How cool is that??

This is easy to remember-- nuclear means something that has to do with the "nucleus" of an atom (aka what binds to make helium) and fission relates to processes like these!

Another fun fact-- our sun is in its main sequence stage. This is kinda like adulthood? Basically the "peak" of a star's life. We mark this by a star consistently going through nuclear fission; making sure it is producing heat energy properly and not dying anytime soon.

so, there! stars stay together using nuclear fission, the same process which makes it live! uh. idk how to end this. don't do drugs and love the moon 👍

[itspileofgoodthings]

one of my fave things about teaching is that I’m NOT a counselor and I don’t have to get into the weeds with a student but also I’m part of their life every day and i see when they’re struggling and I can ask how them how they’re doing and make sure that they know I see them on a steady, daily basis and it will be healing for both of us