#never played either games but i like him so

[brucewaynehater101]

There's Titans Tower but Tim decides to go ahead and set up a Young Justice base as well since someone (it was Jason) ruined his ability to feel safe there and since so many people have the ability to interfere with the security settings of Titan's Tower. Also Damian and his little friends are starting to spend more time there and while Kon doesn't mind spending time with Jon, there is still a significant age gap between Tim's group and Damian's group and neither is interested in one side acting as babysitter for the other. Thus, Tim sets up Young Justice Base. It is a little bubble dome under water somewhere between Atlantis and Themyscira. They have a robot who does the dishes and light cleaning of common areas. Tim calls the robot Mrs. Mac. Cassie calls it Rosie (Jetsons). Kon goes with Rosie Mac to placate them both. Bart goes with BB (for Better than Braniac). Rosie BB Mac is not an advanced AI, she's a tiny bit more advanced than the average roomba. She does, on occasion, have to be pushed out of corners where she's gotten stuck. Bart has to be stopped from taping a knife to her. Bart rips off casinos to help fund the base. Kon goes and mines some asteroids for minerals to sell and use as building materials his part of the funding. Cassie convinces Hippolyta to led them some Amazons to help with the construction. The base may or may not have a blessing from Amphitrite and Hestia. Tim can finally have a place where he feels safe to sleep. Kon and Bart have a place that is their home where they don't feel like they're infringing on the hospitality of someone who feels obligated to them for things that aren't their fault. Cassie has a place where she can stretch and not feel confined or burdened by other's expectations. Anita, Cissie, and Greta absolutely visit. Anita brings the kids. They now have a safe place to retreat to just in case of an emergency. The kids love seeing the fish swim by and think it's just a really cool aquarium.

and if this is the Space Emperor AU then this is where Cassie stores all her ugly dishes with the team's faces on them and where the others on the team store theirs as well. If any of them go missing or get broken then there's a much smaller list of suspects for her to interrogate than if she were to keep them with her mom. Fewer questions as well for any of them to deal with.

Gods, I love underwater bases. Bioshock was a hella fun game to play because it was an underwater city. I've also tried to make a ton of Minecraft bases in the ocean.

Anyways, YJ deserves their own place that isn't associated with anyone else. They deserve either a brand new construction (like this) or a renovated one they found themselves (instead of it being an old space from other heroes). I'd live for the fluff of them slowly making the place theirs (from the weird paintings they hang up, the curtains they bicker over, the plethora of photos of loved ones, the random trinkets each one brings to decorate, etc). This is their home, and they should be able to make it fit them.

I'd also want to see some of the hurt/comfort of Tim finally losing that little bit of tension he never noticed he carries (since he's finally safe. He will be safe. No one can hurt him here).

Kon doesn't have to put on a persona. He's able to relax and simply exist.

Cassie catches herself just watching her friends with a fond smile on her face. She can't get enough of them just being around and being okay.

Bart doesn't have to try to fit himself into what others want him to be. YJ accepts him as he is, no matter what he does or how he acts.

[snyder-side]

I am not exactly sure if this classifies as an Au or headcanons since Trolls Band Together was kinda short and for the life of me I kinda hate when movies are rushed and we get the cut scenes afterward only as a storyboard(I also tend to like the concept art more than the official art)

But enough of me ranting and more into me getting into what I think/want to happen to Brozone when the band split up

(I choose to call it their solo career)

John Dory(19):

Seeing John Dory's entrance attitude and smugness truly made me think yeah this guy is definitely full of himself and in major denial about some things and what really confirmed my suspicion was when he said "I was the oldest I had no choice but to lead!"

So for his solo career, I thought maybe he did some odd job like bounty hunting, or perhaps he played hero with a small town with a small population of trolls or some other anthropomorphic species. Of course, anyone he would save or any group of bounty hunters he'd join didn't like him because he enjoyed taking control of the situation so much or bossing everyone around. He never liked being alone but he kept driving people away, so eventually he knew solitude was his best option, therefore living in Ronda alone in a forest. He did feel regret for driving his brothers away but only because he knew he was more familiar with bossing them around than some random strangers he'd just met. He kept the mindset of "Why should I feel bad when they're the ungrateful ones!" and "All I've ever done was look out for them, and I stepped up when Mom and Dad died!" after those thoughts he couldn't help but think "What are you doing John Dory?"

Spruce/Bruce(17):

I thought it would be funny if almost everyone at his little restaurant on Vacay Island or should I say Brandy's restaurant...well her dads knew who "Bruce' really was except Brandy. I like to think Bruce went to vacay island because either his therapist or himself thought he should relax more so he went on a "vacation". He chilled out, gained a little bit of weight making him lose his six-pack, and most importantly tried to win the heart of Brandy because she seemed to be the only one not falling for his charm. Brandy played a tsundere type of approach when it came to all his advances on her, but then it all came to a game of volleyball as Bruce's way of showing his dedication to her, of course some of the other players used his small stature against him and he was getting his butt handed to him. He was only able to score a single point (IDEK how volleyball works) and the way he leapt into the air had Brandy star struck, the that that was holding his hair back snapped and he used nothing but shear will power to spike the ball. I mean sure Bruce lost but did he really? He got the girl in the end so it's all that counts right?

Clay(16):

(So I don't really have much for clay because I used most of my ADHD superpowers on the other guys and there's not too much I can go on from the movie)

Now Clay just looked around for jobs, it was retail, then tried working at some corporate building but it all didn't exactly work out because none of his co-workers took him seriously. Feeling out of options Clay walked aimlessly eventually finding Viva and the Putt-putt trolls, at the time imagined them looking more post-apocalyptic and slightly barbaric and frankly chaotic, Viva needed drastic help because she was just a little kid like Clay. Clay offered to help her mainly because he has a tiny bit of OCD (Saying this because of how grumpy he looked when John Dory went off and did his own thing and him practicing and worrying before Brozone performance.) and Viva thought/thinks so highly of him and thought of him as serious which is all Clay ever wanted so he just felt at home...and may or may not have developed feelings for her in the long run. Still, hey I've already got into a Romance segment.

I'm going to leave this here and not do Floyd because I'll talk about his little solo career journey in an OC ramble. (I have no shame.)

Thanks for reading have a lovely day!

[valyrfia]

I'm of the opinion that for lando it can't get better than this atm and that soon things will change and shake out differently (can't see oscar playing the team game for long if lando doesn't help oscar as well), that gifted win truly got to his head and the british bias is insane. if the roles had been reversed max would've been crucified (let's ignore the fact that max would never react like that) and i feel people got over the trump comments way too soon

I mean, McLaren has had the fastest car for four races now and they've only won one of them because they don't have a Max/Charles level driver in the driver's seat making the difference. I got the feeling as well that Oscar was pissed off, because being ordered to stick behind Lando essentially cost him his own race, and Lando didn't drop back to give DRS either. I've said before that McLaren will be forced to choose between Lando and Oscar in the next couple of years, they'll choose Lando, and it'll cost them the championship. I stand by that sentiment.

Yeah, overall that win went straight to Lando's head, which is another reason why I think he won't hold up in a championship fight. Most WDCs are very 'we can celebrate but I'm instantly thinking about the next race', Lando has been...gloating (for lack of a better term) for four races now.

Also the Trump comments were insane and I can't believe he was being defended by people saying "oh he just doesn't know!", like...if he can't fathom that him saying good things about Trump will be used as propaganda during an election year then he's unbelievably ignorant. So he either a. knew the impact of his words and said them anyway or b. is truly just that dumb.

He managed to piss off fans of pretty much every other driver yesterday. Like, so glad I'm a Charles girl because I can sleep easy knowing my driver would never pull anything like that without cold hard evidence and multiple good and defendable reasons.

[dalekofchaos]

Not interested in LIS:Double Exposure

Okay I saw the Double Exposure trailer and I am not playing it.

Multiple reasons.

The Deck Nine IGN article. I will not support a developer that knowingly protected a bigoted groomer and allowed a Nazi to sneak in White Supremacist signs in the game.

Max learned nothing about the first game. Nevermind there is no Chloe, Warren or anyone from Arcadia insight(we'll get to that) Max apparently formed another codependent relationship that she couldn't let go to the point where she's fucking up reality by creating yet another parallel world. Either Deck Nine is entirely unoriginal or Max didn't learn a damned thing

That is not Max. If your defense is "she grew up" I got news for you. I've looked the same for nearly a decade. I've had friends while changing their aesthetic, they look the same. you don’t look like an entirely new person when you age, the new model looks nothing like max there’s barely even resemblance. Also I know, we all change our style as we get older, but Max's style was unique and it made Max Caulfield who she is. It didn't need to change. Deck Nine just Stephified Max. Was it really that hard to give Max bangs? Not just that. No freckles, eyes and eyebrows look completely different. This is not Max Caulfield.

4. No one from Arcadia Bay returned. It's pretty obvious Deck Nine is either keeping Chloe's fate a secret, but it's also clear they are trying to skirt around the issue of the endings without pissing everyone off. Feels like a copout to whatever ending you chose to give a new cast of characters. For the fans who wanted more time to play as Max and Chloe, I feel bad for you, I especially wanted to see Chloe again. So what the fuck was this supposed to be for then?

Though another point; why the hell are we supposed to be okay with the fact that Max is using her power again to save this brand new character we have zero previous connection to? Especially if the game’s gonna try to straddle both endings to LiS 1; seems very insulting to have Max be okay with doing it for a character we have no previous attachment to, but she’s left her girlfriend to die alone, thinking nobody loved her?

Also you had the perfect chance to make a fucking game that has Max save Rachel. I know I just did a tangent about Max not learning anything, but if you were just going to have Max use her powers again, why the fuck didn't you do it to save Rachel from a fate she never deserved? Godfucking forbid you give attention to Warren, Kate or Victoria. I just wanted to see these characters get some screen time, make cameos or give us SOME hint to what they are up to after the events of the first game. But no, we can't have that. We can't be given anything of substance for Warren, Kate or Victoria. Can't learn anything about their fates in the LIS 2 Save Arcadia Bay ending, can't find out Warren or Kate survived the storm in Wavelengths via talking to Steph during the storm anniversary and we can't see them again in DE. I know it's just a teaser, but seriously why even do a new Max game if we don't even get cameos from these characters? Knowing how Deck Nine is, they are just gonna find a way to demonize Warren to paint him like Eliot, regress Victoria's character and not even give Kate the time of day to mention. Jesus fucking christ, I just wanted to see Max and Warren Go Ape, fun Max and Victoria photodates and to see Max and Kate have one fucking Tea date. IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR???

5. Deck Nine are literally just swiping DontNod’s characters for the purposes of chasing that brand recognition. It's just copy pasting lighting in a bottle and milking a cow out of this franchise. BTS was remotely successful because of Chloe and Rachel's relationship. True Colors is fun at first, but realize it's just a hollow imitation of the first game. DONTNOD's story was original, fun and unique. I had problems with it but it was still THEIR story on their terms and not developed from a place of corporate cynicism asking for preorders ASAP that come bundled with a box of tissues and bobbleheads of dead teenagers. Read recent interviews from DONTNOD and you can TELL they got burned by SquareEnix over this. I hope they can channel that into something with Bloom and Rage because I’d love to see them recapture that magic again.

I had fears of what would happen if Deck Nine ever got their hands on Max. And looks like I was right to be worried.

To be clear, I think making stories with someone else’s character is great and cool and it’s literally what fanfiction is and technically, MUCH of mass media now IS “fanfiction”. The difference here is DONTNOD deliberately wanted LIS 1 canon left alone, near as I can tell. But no, Square Enix wanted a franchise and Deck Nine was more than happy to milk the cow for all it was worth and Deck Nine has shown they don't understand DONTNOD's characters

The game looks like it's repeating everything about the first game, but none of the charm that made it great. It's beat for beat the same fucking game. Dead friend, murder mystery, but without the ambiance, charm or magic that made the first game good. Deck Nine is completely unoriginal, DE is a soulless cashgrab and their hyperrealism killed the entire essence of the game and its characters.

It's quite literally a copy and paste of True Colors, but with Max.

And when we just look at this. Double Exposure is just soulless. It's style over substance and I knew. I just KNEW that if Deck Nine got their hands on Max it would be half-assed and soulless shit like this. They dared to slap Max's name on a Steph lookalike and then just do True Colors again, but more hollow.

There's something just so disappointing about the change in art style over the years. The art direction in the first game was charming and now it just feels kinda soulless. The awkward chunkyness of the models really made it stand out but now it feels way too smooth

life is strange going from one studios passion project to another’s cashgrab is one of the biggest modern tragedies in the world deck nine they could never make me like you. All the charm of the franchise from the cartoonish artstyle to the episodical releases has been completely stripped away it’s just very disappointing to see.

This meme is literally Double Exposure.

[peachhcs]

his eyes bounced down to a reply in the thread that linked the video footage of the hit. the blonde clicked into the 20 second video where he watched the girl from the other team plow into samy sending her straight to the ground. he watched her lay there without getting up until her teammates began crowding her.

Considering it's an away game, a concerning amount of the umich hockey team are in the stands, loosing it

There are also three very concerned hughes brothers scattered across the country watching

"what the fuck!" ethan yelled as soon as samy hit the ground. the others around him began mumbling in disbelief, waiting for the ref to throw up a red card.

"that was illegal!" mark yelled right alongside the brunette. the two stood there in disbelief and worry that samy hadn't gotten up yet.

"shit, is she okay?" gavin wondered while almost the entire team's gaze never left the girl down on the field.

"she's not getting up," gabe mumbled from beside the older boys.

"shit, come on samy. get up, get up," ethan mumbled under his breath.

by that time, the coach and athletic trainers were on the field with her. no one could see the brunette because of everyone's bodies hiding her from the stands and the other players. there was still nothing from the refs either.

"that was a fucking card! where's the card!" ryan yelled which got boston's side going because they didn't get why a bc kid was cheering for a umich kid.

"why the fuck are you cheering for the other team?" some stranger yelled over at the boys' section.

"fuck off! she just got hurt!" mark yelled back which shut that other person up fairly quickly.

meanwhile, jack and luke watched the live stream from the comfort of their couch, mouths wide open waiting for their baby sister to get back up.

"why isn't she getting up?" jack muttered.

"the other team hit right into her. they haven't even given a card yet!" luke exclaimed and quickly went to his phone to get any updates from their parents that were there.

ellen picked up on the third ring.

"mom, what the hell's happening? is she okay?" luke put the call on speaker so jack could listen in.

"they're still looking at her on the field right now. the guys aren't too happy about it," the older woman explained.

"why haven't they given that other girl a red card? that was an illegal hit. she did that on purpose," luke continued in frustration.

"the refs are ignoring the stands as they watch the replay," ellen said.

"watch the replay? did they not see that girl hit samy purposefully??" jack rolled his eyes.

"hold on, quinn's calling now too. i'm adding him to this call," a second later, quinn joined.

"you're on the call with luke and jack, too," ellen said to her sons.

"what's going on with this play? the live stream stopped showing what's happening?" quinn urged for some answers.

"they're still looking at her. she took a really hard hit. it looks like her shoulder."

"shit. if it's her shoulder, she's not gonna be able to play or they won't want her to," jack hummed and he knew that would piss samy off because she hated being out of the game.

"wait, she's getting up. your father and i are gonna go down and meet her. we'll call you guys back," ellen hurried out before hanging up.

people in the stands began clapping once samy was up, glad she was okay enough to walk. ethan and mark exchanged a glance watching samy walk back through the tunnel with the trainers. they had a huge ice pack wrapped around her right shoulder.

"fuck, that doesn't look good," gavin muttered.

"wait, the refs are coming back out," ethan nudged the guys' arms as they anxiously awaited what the card would be.

the ref held out a yellow card—a warning.

"what the fuck! that was red card!" ethan immediately yelled, not caring if he got kicked out of the game.

"no fucking way. they're blind!" ryan exclaimed as well.

the refs didn't say anything else and the game continued on without samy while the twitter headlines started breaking about the hit.

[babymochibeargyu]

Game On, Gyu

pairing: jealous gamerbf!gyu x gamer!reader(reader is really down bad in love w gyu)

genre:fluff

requested by :✏️anon

prompt: Can u do a crybaby jealous beomgyu getting jealous at reader and reader comforts him, beomgyu cries on readers shoulders while cuddling? 🥹 just pure fluff ( a bit Angst ) 🥹

warnings: mention of kills in game sense, other than that nothing!!

a/n: btw I was wrecking my brain a bit when you said “getting jealous at reader”, my mind pretty much went blank on what Gyu could get jealous of reader(bcos it seemed like he has everything in life😭), and was playing around with the idea of maybe having a member involved which would make Gyu jealous instead(maybe a fic for another time hehe)

either way, I hope you enjoy this!!

wc:2.4k

You frequently visited the PC cafe near your house as you couldn’t stand your mother’s nagging about you being too loud whenever you were playing games, hence it became your second home.

What made it even better was the in-house food ordering service; you could simply place an order and have it delivered right to your seat. It was like having everything you needed at your fingertips.

You weren’t sure what happened that particular day, maybe the worker was having a bad day and so it was probably an accident.

But the server who served your food had mixed it up with the person who was seated beside you.

Let’s just say you were the type of person who didn’t care for relationships, but after you laid eyes on the guy seated beside you, something went off in your brain.

As the screen light shined against his face, you thought that there was no way he could be real. How could he be so effortlessly handsome? Needless to say, you were in awe. And this was only his side profile?

With the mix-up of getting the wrong food, you guys had no choice but to interact and look at each other(which you were silently thanking the server for).

Now you can say that you finally fell in love at first sight.

There was no way a guy could be this handsome and cute at the same time.

The way his boba-like eyes met yours with that clueless yet endearing expression, accompanied by a slight head tilt.

Oh, bless your fucking heart.

When he received his food from you, he offered a shy yet charming smile, his eyes resembling crescent moons.

It took all your willpower to resist the urge to pinch his adorable cheeks as he turned back to his computer monitor.

Please you were so ready for him to be yours.

A gamer boyfriend? Yes, please.

Call it what you will, but you’re calling it fate.

You’ve been to this PC cafe more than your fingers can count and you’ve never seen him around before, maybe he was new.

And in your mind, you had already come up with scenarios of you and this hot, cute random stranger.

And while you guys were switching your food, you couldn’t help but look over at the guy’s screen, which you noticed was the same game you were playing.

And well the rest was history.

Ever since then you and Gyu never had a day where you guys didn’t play computer games without each other.

You had a competitive spirit and so did Gyu. You can't recall who brought it up but you guys decided to compete for the title of the better gamer by playing PubG.

There was no other reward for it, just a title but oh you guys were dead serious about it.

You guys never had any serious fights, only teasing ones which in your relationship was how you both showed your love for each other.

There wasn’t a day that was filled with silence between you two and you loved it. All the playful banter being thrown around.

Oh how you adored this man.

“Baby… I’m sorry to say this but you’re going down. No hard feelings. You are still the no.1 female gamer in my heart even if you don’t win okay?” Gyu said confidently while still reassuring you.

“Pfft…Please if anyone is going down, it’s gonna be you my Gyutie patootie, I’m winning this.”

In all honesty, you were the better gamer(from the way of how Gyu’s friends act).

But of course you’ve never said it out loud in front of Gyu.

You would notice when his friends came over for game nights(to play Switch), they would always be fighting against one another just so that they can be on your team.

And since Gyu is the better player among his friends(excluding you)by default, he would end up becoming the other team’s captain, even though he always wanted to team up with you. And he would always give in to them because he loves his friends so much and wants them to have fun.

But you would always see your baby pouting when it happens. He was a literal angel.

Oh how you would literally just drop everything and give him all the love, showering him with kisses if his friends weren’t there. (Which you always end up doing anyways after his friends leave because you can’t help yourself)

He got you wrapped around his little finger.

For those who are not familiar with how Pubg goes:

Basically, the objective is to be the last man standing(in this case with your team of 4 players).

While trying not to get killed, you need to equip yourself with weapons that are best suited to your ability.

You would also have to occasionally check the map, making sure you are within the safe zone at all times. Failure to do so will result in your health bar decreasing, causing your character to die outside the safe zone.

In the event of being shot, but not fully hurt until your teammate have to press the recover button, you are able to heal yourself with items like bandages, health aid kids, painkillers and drinks you find when you loot(search) the houses.(based on the actual game as i actually play it🤭)

with that let the games begin~

Whoever has the most kills wins, bonus if they are the last man standing and kill the other in the game.

Y’all were playing in a team (against each other)with three other random queues that the game had assigned for you, so you weren’t sure how your team would fair.

But you didn’t worry that much because you knew that you were bout to eat this shit up.

When a character kills in the game, their user ID will be shown on the screen. And yours showed up mostly on both your screens throughout the game.

‘_________🔫 by ScarletShooter’ your ID appeared multiple times.

Your team was literally so impressed that they typed into the world chat for all the other players to see.

“Dang Scarlet let’s goooo🤙🏻”

“We bout to win this match.”

“How are you so good?”

What could you say? You were the jack of all trades.

If you thought you were great at close combat shooting, you were even better at sniping.

Once you find a Sniper 🤝🏻 4x/8x scope, that was it for your enemies. No one could escape your sight.

Gyu on the other hand was reading all these messages appearing on his screen and started to get even more fired up.

When the game first started he was being laid back, thinking that he had a lot of time to catch up and get more kills in the middle of the game.

But with every passing moment he delayed, the number for the survivor count was going down quickly…

You were taking everyone out 🤙🏻

Now the survivor count was at 45, meaning that there were 41 left for him to kill(excluding him and his teammates)

He wanted to win you in the game so badly, wanting the title of better gamer between you both.

Honestly, he was doing better than expected(it must be thanks to you that he was feeling motivated.)

‘________🔫 by ScarletGyu’ yes… yall matched your IDs. Scarlet was the clan name because yall’s favourite Marvel character was Scarlet Witch.

You couldn’t help but feel proud when you saw his name on screen but had to occasionally remind yourself that you guys were currently fighting for the title of the better gamer.

Honestly you didn’t even want the title, you just wanted to see Gyu work hard for something he was passionate about.

But what fun would it be if he win so easily? Plus you would rather see a pouty Gyu. He was literally the cutest when he pouted. So that was your driving force now.

Title literally meant nothing.

Total number of survivors: 7

You were now at 20 kills while Gyu had 15. There were 3 left on your team(including you) and Gyu had one more teammate alive(you guys didn’t know how many players each other had left).

In Gyu’s mind, he was assuming that you still had all 4 players alive and 1 single player who was roaming out there. Which he thought was enough to beat you if he were to take down all 5 of you(not knowing how many you have already killed).

While for you, you just wanted the game to end already. It has been about 30 minutes. You could say it was a slow game.

And it’s like your prayers were answered. One of your teammates had taken out two of the roaming enemies, not knowing that they weren’t from Gyu’s team.

But it finally seemed that the game would end.

With that, you took out your sniper and started scanning through the field. And there you saw someone familiar(you knew how Gyu’s character look like) peeking out from behind the tree (literally 2 kilometers away from you but you could see him clearly thanks to your scope).

You were thinking of teasing him a little. So you typed in your team chat to ask one of them to look for the other enemy to see whether the last two enemies were on the same team.

And well, your team was quick. They found the other enemy and knocked him out. You suddenly saw Gyu’s character running towards where the enemy got shot and that was it.

As Gyu tried to revive his teammate, you took the final shot. Claiming the chicken dinner and winning the title.

When Gyu died in game, he turned and looked at you with a sad pout. Stop he literally was about to cry.

He rose from his gaming station and made his way to the shared bed, where he sat down, pulling his knees to his chest and burying his face into his folded arms.

Without hesitation, you rushed to the bed, dropping to your knees in front of him as if pleading for forgiveness. Your arms reached out, gently touching his shoulders, ready to pull him into a comforting embrace.

Initially, he remained motionless, unmoved from his stance. However, as you tenderly began to give him head pats and apologize for causing his tears, he relented, surrendering to your embrace. Nuzzling his face into the curve of your neck, he enveloped you in a hug, holding on tightly as if he were a koala clinging to a tree.

Feeling uncomfortable with the current setup(you were literally still in the kneeling position), you decided to shift. You gently pulled Gyu down, maneuvering into a more comfortable arrangement where you could cuddle together. As he snuggled even closer to you, seeking warmth and comfort in your embrace.

As his sniffles softened, you debated whether to stop the gentle head pats. But when he didn't feel the next one, he pulled back slightly from the cuddle position, his teary eyes meeting yours.

"No stopping," he insisted, his voice tender.

"Gyu still wants head pwats." How could you refuse your baby?

You couldn't resist, he was too adorable. Your heart was melting. So you resumed giving him those comforting head pats.

In the quiet stillness that enveloped you both, time seemed to stretch on for what felt like a good five minutes. It was a rare occurrence, considering that when the two of you were together, silence was usually a stranger.

As the last sniffles from Gyu faded away, his arms still wrapped around your waist, you gently pulled him back so that now, you were face to face.

With a soft smile, you planted a kiss on his lips, causing him to jump a bit in surprise, clearly not expecting the affectionate gesture.

"So, can we talk about why you cried?" you asked Gyu gently, your voice filled with concern.

He hesitated for a moment before finally admitting“Gyu was jeawous."

Fuck why he gotta be so cute.

"Oh, my baby, what were you jealous about?" you cooed.

"You were playing so well, weren't you? I noticed your name popping up so many times during our game," your voice was gentle and reassuring, aiming to comfort him and prompt him to open up about his feelings.

“B…but your name appeared more, and you even killed me. Now you got the title of the better gamer between us,” he said, his voice tinged with sadness.

Your heart sank at the sight of your baby's sadness; you initially thought it would just end with him being pouty, but it seemed that winning to earn the title meant a lot more to him.

"I don't even care about the title, Gyu. I just wanted to see you play with passion. If it would make you happy, you can have the title," you said, sincerely hoping to lift his spirits.

"I didn't mean for you to cry, you know? I'm sorry," you said softly, genuine remorse evident in your tone.

Gyu looked up, meeting your gaze with understanding eyes. "I know," he replied softly, his hands now gently cupping your cheeks, his touch warm and reassuring.

"So..., to make it up to me for making me cry, the next time the guys come over, I'm on your team. I'm never on your team when they're here." He said shyly while looking at you with his boba eyes.

"Aww is that all my baby wanted? Sure we can do that. Anything for my Gyutie patootie, bugaboo,snoogums." you replied with a chuckle, adding some playful pet names to lighten the mood.

"God, you know I love you so much? My heart feels like it's about to burst out of my chest. I just needed to let you know how much I love you, Gyu," you whispered, your voice filled with tenderness and affection.

Gyu's cheeks flushed with a rosy hue as he gazed at you lovingly. "I love you too, more than words can express," he replied softly, his heart overflowing with warmth and adoration for you.

"Thank you for loving me, Gyu," you whispered, pulling him close as you both drifted into a peaceful slumber, wrapped in the warmth of each other's embrace.

masterlist

Please tell me I did good(I want some praises pwease🥹), I hope I did >_< and I hope this is up to your expectations. I had such a fun time writing this ahh, was super cute to write too. Missed writing fluff content so much😭.

Once again if you enjoyed this please give it a like/reblog/follow if you wanna see more fluff content from me. See you in the next one lovelies🥹🫶🏻🤍

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[itsonlydana]

Hi, I could not find your rules for writing, but if I may request some smut/fluff *Thranduil x reader*. You can imagine this scenario; the tranduil and reader are playing this kind of game: do or drink, and how they are playing, they have various tasks,some are funny, some are more s€xual... they are kind of sassy and playful, and they are teasing eachother (because none of them want to lose), and after that they will do what have to be done (yk what I mean). If you are not comfortable or I over-crossed your rules, than you can ignore this ♥︎. Thank you for your beautiful writings, cant wait for another !

Drinks and Dares | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader 👑

Boredom leads Thranduil to ask you to play a game that either end in far too many secrets spilled or far too much wine drank. When you agreed you wouldn't have thought the evening to end like this!

tags/warnings: NSWF! THIS IS ADULT CONTENT ✋️, smut, oral sex (fem), fingering, pet names, slight intoxication on wine (they literally played a drinking game, it's all consensual), Thranduil gets off on reader wearing his crown

word count: 4,5k

an: this turned out to be much filthier and longer than I expected or planned but here you go! I'm getting much more comfortable writing smut though it's still not at a level where I could say: yeah i know what I'm doing so forgive me if it feels a bit "clunky"

+ masterlist + rules + 🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

The truth was, you shouldn't have agreed to play a game with Thranduil. 

As his most trusted guard ever since he was crowned and daresay friend for the past two millennials you should have known better than to assist him in his mischief because you knew, you knew, that nothing good ever came to his bored ingenious mind and once again you were proven to be right in that initial judgment you had ignored again, and look where that led you:

Sitting cross-legged in his private chambers and staring up as Thranduil elegantly made out with his own reflection in the tall mirror.

It was one of the more…audacious dares of the evening because you see, Thranduil's idea of entertainment was, of course, combining drinking with luring out a side of you that you, on a normal day-to-day basis, hid behind the honorable task of accompanying your Majesty. Normally you would never allow it to be this carefree, to not bother checking your surroundings – or tongue, a far worse opportunity to slip up. Thranduil could protect himself very much without any help though he liked to keep you around for comfort, but your tongue?

No, there were far too many secret desires that needed to be pushed down with the utmost care. 

This concentration and focus were however nowhere to be seen after you had agreed to fool around with Thranduil's infinite supply of wine that never seemed to become less, despite the amount you drank. 

The dares became less light-hearted the more wine flowed. Sneaking around the servants' hall to steal Feren's comb changed into you having to yell out the first word that came to your mind when you thought of Thranduil (the bastard had you scream 'so fucking sensual' before you both collapsed into giggles). The dares you gave Thranduil changed quite drastically as well, going from tame things like telling whoever he hated the most on the council (Thorin was the only answer and that was nothing he kept to himself) to.. well – kissing himself in the mirror.  

From your point, you saw how his eyes were closed and his lips opened, smooched against the fogged-up crystal as his tongue sensually licked up a bit of spit he left. While his breath clouded the sight, you held yours in an effort to capture the smallest of noises like the soft moans that slipped out of him.

You heard and saw him press a wet kiss, a last shorter one, nothing more than a quick peck, against his reflection before his eyes snapped open to meet yours and you hoped he mistook the dilution in your pupils for the wine you held cradled in your lap and not for the pure arousal that cursed through your bloodstream and pumped straight to your core. He smirked, sharp at the edges of his with spit glittering mouth. He wasn't stupid. 

"So," you cleared your throat and leaned back on one hand, lifting the other to sip on your wine, "Your turn."

"Mhm yes." Thranduil lowered himself back on the chaise longue and tugged a leg under himself. He wrapped his long fingers around the chalice to click his nails against the gold; the beat echoing deep with the throbbing between your legs. "You shall do the same as me."

"What?" you huffed, "Kiss the mirror?"

He nodded.

Your eyebrows drew together in a frown, "You can't just give me the same task! That's not how this works, Your Majesty–"

"Then drink," Thranduil said unbothered by your nagging, "That is how the game works. You do," he paused and tipped his chalice into your direction, smirking, "or you drink."

Playing games like this led to far too many secrets spilled and far too much skin revealed, evidenced by the state of undress you're both in. 

Your armor had been placed by the door long ago, leaving you in a simple tunic and leggings that had grown uncomfortably warm by now. Thranduil too had rid himself of all the fancy robes and was left lounging in far too few layers for anyone else to see him. You saw the pale skin of his throat all the way down to a muscular chest revealed by a loose satin tunic and noticed every twitch of his legs confined in very, so very tight sitting, breeches. 

You glared at him and gripped your own chalice tighter, tempted to just down it all and give him another dare that his ego would not easily allow to give up on but it has been a long evening and most of your thoughts are still hung up on the imagery of Thranduil pressed against his own reflection, hand splayed wide against condensation of his own hot breath. 

Standing up quickly your head spun a few rounds didn't stop you from marching up to the mirror, swaying a bit to the left before reaching it. Thranduil watched you, his eyes locked onto yours and even if he may wanted to seem casual, leaning back into the cushions, his bobbing throat betrayed the image of unaffectedness he was trying to portray.

You told yourself it was the wine in your system that made you stand up on your naked tiptoes to reach the spot where Thranduil's breath had left an imprint of his mouth and, shaking just slightly, your mouth crushed against the warmed glass; right where he had been.

You tasted spit and wine and metal. 

It was not at all what you had expected and at first, there was awkwardness to kissing a smooth surface that didn't reciprocate your movements until you heard a choked-up sound behind you. Thranduil's noise fueled you on and remembering what he had done, you opened your lips, allowing your tongue to draw a suggestively figure-eight. 

Another gasp, this time it was your own at the lack of oxygen that would have taken you down had you not drawn back. By now the alcohol muddled your brain completely, making it impossible to stand still and not sway again. Heat pooled in your cheeks and down lower between your legs, and you were sure they were as red as they felt; flushed by this indecent behavior that only he could provoke in you because who were you but a fool in love?

"See, this was not very hard, was it?" Thranduil laughed huskily.

"Still a stupid dare," you bit and sat down again, glad that your knees didn't give up halfway across the room as they threatened to do. As a trained warrior, a good one at that, you may say so yourself, you should be able to control yourself better. It was truly pathetic how the scratch of Thranduil's voice combined with the heat that threatened to suffocate the room left your hands shaking and your knees wobbling. When the world tipped slightly, you gave in, falling onto your back to watch the ceiling spin. 

"Okay," your eyes followed the roots that curved through the stone. They had been there long before you built the halls around them though now they were intertwined in the very ground that held you all together. "You, um, you have to drink or–" You grasped at whatever coherent thought was left in the puddle of brain that swooshed inside your head. A girlish giggle left you as a most improper idea manifested, its origin that one fantasy you had for decades now, never more than a secret you only dared to think about in the most lonely times.

"Or?" Thranduil inquired. He sounded very amused and if you looked half as funny and flushed as you felt, you understood why.

"Or," your head lolled to the side, taking in his long body splayed across the chaise longue watching you with a look in his eyes that had heart feathering, fluttering like a bird's wings, "I'm allowed to wear your crown."

A beat of silence. 

Thranduil's eyebrows slowly wandered up on his forehead, creating the perfect arch to capture his short moment of confusion before his mouth followed. Just when you thought now you'd done it and fucked up his lips curved into a smirk and you hoped, begged, lusted after his agreement; you wouldn't survive a denial. 

Not now, not with heat curling hot inside your stomach.

You wouldn't say the atmosphere changed, not particularly; there had been an underlying tension ever since you both had freed yourself from the constricting robes and armors and pretended not to stare at each bit of skin revealed, but there certainly was a shift to what was already there: hunger. 

Starvation in the form of wide eyes and quick intakes of breath, your body screaming for him and you scrambling toward Thranduil, as he slowly petted the empty space next to him. 

"Sit," his voice commanded, and ever the dutiful admirer of His Majesty you sat up straight and placed your legs in a perfect angle in front of you instead of following his example and tucking them under your body. Thranduil unfolded them gracefully. He kept his eyes trained on you and you had no problems staring right back. "I must say, you are awfully brave to ask me for my crown," Thranduil said as he stood up and thus forced you to crane your neck.

"To be precise," you started, without a care in the world this would be most daring as well, if not borderline stupid and ignorant, "I did not ask for it." Thranduil's eyebrows wandered up again. You didn't shrink under his gaze but rather challenged it.

"Do you call your king a liar?" 

You lifted your chin higher, tilting it slightly in thought. There were many answers to his question, varying greatly on the specter of what one would deem inappropriate, and all of them lay on the tip of your tongue.

You settled on one of them with a soft smile on your lips that could be perceived as dreamy. "I do not call my king a liar," you waited until Thranduil thought this to be your final answer until that satisfied smirk of him thinking he had won another round appeared on his beautiful face, and then you continued: "There are rules to this game and so I didn't ask for your crown, I dared you to let me wear it. It's entirely in your hands to either accept the dare or you must drink." The last part you said slowly, not rushing out the words that fueled Thranduil's smirk further on just as you had predicted it would happen if you showed finesse in your answer and not gave into his power-plays. 

"So it seems," Thranduil said. He reached for the crown on his head, the oak sticks, lush with moss and green foliage that sprouted a colorful array of yellow buttercups, pink foxglove, fiery-red poppies, and blueish-purple tufted vetches for summer had come, and weighted it in his hands. 

He lowered it slowly, taking his time to take in every little breath you took, the rapid rising and falling of your chest that had Thranduil's special attention. When you felt the crown parting your hair, had the twigs press against the sensitive skin behind your ear, and were completely engulfed in the oh-so-sweet but heavy floral scent, all rational thinking left you with a breathy moan. 

There was control, and dominance in the crown, in all that it stood for and now you wore it, still physically beneath Thranduil but that too changed the moment your lashes fluttered looking up at him, intoxicated on wine, power, and the knowledge to be the only other person that ever had the privilege of this.

"Valar, look at you," Thranduil rasped, darkness blew his pupils wide and his hands fell to cup your neck into their large palms. Fingertips pressed against your fluttering pulse and you automatically, even though you had never allowed any Ellon to touch this delicate part, leaned into it. 

"And? How do I look?" you asked and gasped as his nails scratched over your neck.

Thranduil's grip on your neck nudged your head back further. He leaned down, loose hair like a waterfall out of starlight and if the hunger in his eyes was anything to go by, he was burning up just like you. 

When he spoke, it was a low tide rolling over coarse sand: "Majestic." His thumbs were under your chin, hindering it from dropping at the word though he felt the whimper bubbling up inside you where his fingers laid claim on your throat. "My turn," he said.

For a brief second, you didn't know what he was talking about, all that went through your head was that this, you sitting in his crown with him standing in front of you, was worth all the pining of a millennial. 

"You will address me by my given name, not by my title."

"What?" Your tongue flicked out to wetten your lips.

"I –," Thranduil's thumb wandered the same path that your tongue had, "dare you –," he pulled your lower lip back, revealing your open-in-wonder-gaze, "to call me by my name while I worship you in a manner deserving for a Queen."

Your heart stopped and were it not for the tension tying you down, you would have stumbled away. "Queen? Your Maj–"

"Silence!" Dark eyebrows furrowed in on themselves. Thranduil's hands trailed down your neck, over your chest bone and heaving breasts, nails tugging on the cord that kept everything together as it should, and effortlessly, one flick of his hand snapped the knot open – revealing the frantic breaths that moved your body. He sank to his knees, spreading open his legs to sit down on his heels.

"My Ki–" 

This time you stopped yourself, biting down on your lip to keep the word back that felt like a lie with the crown adorning you and instead doing nothing but stare at your King, because that was who he was in the end, Thranduil, Great Elvenking, Son of Oropher and Leader of the Woodland Elves, pulling on your leggings and removing the last part of clothing that had hidden your arousal. 

"You started this, little one," Thranduil murmured as he nudged his nose against your thighs, his lips only centimeters away from your skin. His eyes flickered to you, "you will forgive me if I finish it."

"Oh, you don't have to do that"

"Why not? Who are you to deny a King a wish most truthfully coming from his heart?" There was a taunting tone in his voice. "

"I am nothing but a mere guard, Thranduil," his name slipped your tongue more easily now that he was kneeling in front of your dripping sex and a certain shyness fell over you, "There are far different ellens deserving of this– of your touch"

"You have taken care of me for many years, far more than I can count," he said lowly and softly, while his hands brushed over the subtle curves of your naked legs, dipped into the bent of your knees to coax them open, "Let me be the one to care for you now."

His lips left a wet trail of kisses up your thighs, hot and open-mouthed and you were whimpering even before he sealed them over your throbbing clit and flicked his tongue over it. A whimper became a gasp, a broken one at that because Thranduil wasted no time teasing you but rather dived right into slightly open his jaw and using the flat length of his tongue, he licked through your lips in such a manner the obscene sound echoed through the entire chamber. 

Your hands flew to his head to bury them in the soft strands of his hair and you wrapped them around your fingers for a better hold. Not that that was necessary, the way Thranduil lapped at you showed no sign that he ever wanted to be anywhere else than between your legs.

His tongue moved through you swiftly, the talent of the wide enough to cover all of you, yet precise technique to flick against your clit again and again on his route brought a blazing hot pleasure to you that quickly dissolved all the muscles you had used to stay upright. 

Thranduil moaned against you, and through the mess that you had made of his hair, ruffled all across his forehead, you saw his eyes roll back into his head, and when his luscious lashes brushed your pelvic bone just as he heaved your legs over his shoulders to practically hold you up, your back arched beautifully and all that remained were your arms and shoulders that got burned by the fabric, the coil inside you snapped and all you could do was follow his orders to scream his name.

In a flash, you went from practically elevating in the air to being pinned into the chaise lounge, Thranduil's broad body covering you easily. Long agile fingers stayed where his tongue had been, two spreading you open and the middle one slipping right into you thanks to the mixture of spit and your cum that he had graciously left there. 

"Is this what you wanted?" He asked through gritted teeth and you felt him grind his own affection into you. There was certainly a heavy weight against your shaking thighs and you moaned at the loss of not having him inside you yet. Thranduil grinned, and you felt it on his lips kissing your neck and jaw. "You did," he chuckled breathlessly, "You sat there all evening, letting this game continue as your pretty head thought of a way to fulfill these filthy– filthy fantasies."

You clenched around his finger at his words and the low timbre he used to speak them directly into your ear. One of his rings, cold despite the heat that surrounded you both, met your clit and your hips flew up but were stopped by his body caging you in.

"Tell me," Thranduil opened his mouth and teeth grazed over your ear; you were keening instantly, dripping more than you have ever had in all the nights you pretended your own fingers were his though now you knew they would never come close to the actual thing, "What came next in your fantasies?"

"Preferably me," you whined.

It brought a full laugh out of him, heartily and so not at all fitting for the situation you were in but that lifted some of the stressful tension, leaving more room for playfulness that had been far back in your head out of the need to preserve every second, afraid this was just the wine playing tricks on you. 

His heavy yet perfect weight was a pressing reminder this was not at all an image your mind had conjured. 

"Is that a dare?" 

Damn him, you thought. He was still keeping up this forsaken game.

You raised your hands, missing your goal the first time at a loss of focus he robbed you of with a second finger fucking into you. The next time you tried you managed to wrap your arms around his neck and grab some of his tresses. 

"My King," you watched his pupils blacken out even further, taking away most of the calm blues and grays, "I dare you to respect the crown." Thranduil let out a throaty groan, almost as if he was tortured. You smiled, however much you could while his fingers scissored you open.

"I dare you to fuck me like there's royal blood in me."

He hooked his fingers, dragging the tips over a rough patch inside you that had you keening and stumbling over whimpers and gasps that slipped out of you faster than you could catch your breath. His mouth latched on to your neck again, sucking a bit of the soft skin into his mouth only to soothe the spot his teeth had nibbled on a moment later in a wet apology. The thought of a bruise in the shape of his canine is exhilarating, doused by the wine that left its hot film over all that's happening. 

"Such vulgar language," Thranduil mocked and, to your absolute disagreement, pulled out his fingers. His hand once again found your thigh, wet and glistening with the essence that he left on your skin, as his other hand made quick work of his breeches, somehow, gracefully pulling them off and flinging them somewhere across the floor through where it landed was not at all were your attention fell to but rather the impressive size of him.

He always had been muscular and well-formed for an Ellon, not that he lacked in elegance for that, but you had noticed his shoulders were broader, his chest defined yet slender and naturally one couldn't forget about his height. It was as if the stars had conspired to ensure that he would stand out in every way and exceed all expectations.

Eager to get his cock inside you you wiggled your hips, chasing after anything that could bring you closer to your goal. 

The only result you got was Thranduil's fingers coming down to pinch your clit as he clicked his tongue. His dark eyebrows raised in admonition. "It seems you require a lesson in behavior fitting a Queen. This impatience must be lost at once!" 

Faster than you could react he flipped you over, large hands effortlessly handling you to face the cushions, knees spread wide and your dripping cunt exposed to him. Your legs nearly slipped of the sides, bringing out a squeal of surprise. "Thranduil!" you laughed and turned your head.

As soon as looked over your shoulder and saw his flat hand palming your cheek, spreading you open while his other hand fisted his hard cock, all teasing became unnecessary. Thranduil let a drop of spit fall onto his hand which he used to lube himself up.

"A loyal subservient must always be on his Queen's side," he said and his hips twitched into his hand, "I will swear my allegiance to you from behind you."

Bright blue yet lust-clouded eyes stared at you and his smirk sent shivers down your spine; all for him to see. You felt his cock nudge against you, the tip alone larger than expected and you gasped. It became harder to keep your head where you could watch his face contort, to see his jaw slacken at your tight heat, and you pressed your chin against your shoulder in need of support. 

Every inch that breached you burned most deliciously and even now, most of his cock was still for you to see, he had imprinted itself to be the only Ellon who would ever fill you this perfectly. You want to howl at the burning pleasure that sparked up your spine, a glimmer of hot fire licking through your middle, and need buried its claws in your tender flesh.

He pushed into you completely, slipping right in due to his extensive preparations and the surreal amount of wetness that surely dripped onto the expensive fabric of the chaise lounge that burned where your knees dug into it. The moan he tore out of you at the intrusion vibrated through you wholly. You screamed in ecstasy, spiraled into an endless pit, and your head dropped down not unlike a puppet that had its strings snapped, however, yours were strung tighter. You felt your cunt blink around him as you accommodated the heft of him.

Thranduil moaned, grunted, and exhaled heavily throughout the whole slow push until his cock sat deep inside you and his sharp hips met your ass. His hand there gripped you harshly enough for it to probably leave bruises in the shape of his fingers and moons of his nails, and the fluttering of your walls around his length did not help in him loosening the grip. 

"Devine," he groaned lowly, "Oh, how I have imagined how you would feel stretched around me." Huh? "This sweet, sweet cunt plagued me for far too long for me to act upon it only now," he continued and rolled his hips against yours. It drove his cock deeper, meeting a spot that had you seeing stars and made it impossible to answer to his admissions, which only continued.

"The many ways I thought about your body beneath mine, your pretty lips sucking me off during these unbearable meetings." 

A hand wrapped around your chin, nudging your head away from the pillow you had used to stifle your moans, fabric lint dry on your tongue, and imprints of your teeth left behind, and as Thranduil pulled out of you, leaving just his tip in to stretch you, he turned your head back at him again. Long fingers stroked over your temple, pinched your cheeks together to draw your mouth into a pucker and you followed the silent instructions of sucking his pointer into it. 

Thranduil leaned down, his chest covering your back completely, you whined at the loss of the inch of cock this movement brought forth, then his lips were peppering kisses to your ear. "You dared me to fuck you like royalty?" he asked and you frantically nodded. Thranduil's teeth flashed at his wide smirk. "Then you better take all that I have to offer"

One smooth thrust, your moan echoing loudly, a wet squelch far too obscene, and Thranduil set a rhythm that had you rely on his arm that wrapped around your middle for any hold on reality. Your hands clawed at the chaise lounge, nails ripping apart seams to ground yourself against the punishing pace with which his cock drove itself home, carved a space for the massive length and width, and the sounds you made only fueled Thranduil on. 

"Look at you," he gasped, "taking me so well."

The praise washed over you with such a crushing weight. 

Days, Weeks, Years, Decades, Millenniums. All the time that had passed. You thought you would wait forever for a compliment as meaningful as this, to hear his appreciation and now.. oh he thought you to worthy enough to take him, to take all of him.

Tears pooled in your eyes, dripping slowly and falling down at the brutal pace used to hammer his cock into you, deeper, further, more and more until you thought it punched a way through your stomach up into your throat because all that you felt, all that you were, was a snug fit, taking him so well.

"Thran.. Thranduil–" you whined and the strings in your gut tightened. "Please," you begged, for all, for nothing, for him. He alone held you over that edge you barreled towards, he alone would be able to push you over into an abyss of the ever-growing pleasure.

"Cum," he ordered, voice strained and by the frantic rhythm of his thrusts you thought he was reaching a limit as well, "Let me feel you cum once more. I dare you!"

You wailed, another sound mixing into the slapping of skin, the shortened breaths and the grunts, the loud pounding of the blood inside your ears until his fingers dropped down to your clit, pinching it again through the slick that pooled there, lightening up yet another nerve ending and you screamed as hot white blinding pleasure exploded and engulfed you. It shot through your limps, branched to every last cell in your body, and filled all thoughts. Even your own heartbeat became an echo of his cock.

Stars

A sea of twinkling lights, burning up in front of your eyes as you screamed your release, your whole body twitching and at the same time pressing back into Thranduil's hips.

You wanted to see him unravel, to come undone and this egoistical part of you fed on the thought of being the one who breaks the Elvenking but when his hips stuttered one last time and you felt his release coating your twitching insides, Thranduil was just as electrifyingly and unfairly beautiful. 

Cold metal brushed against your lips and you blinked dazed. 

"Drink," Thranduil had grabbed the abandoned chalice and held it to your panting mouth, ignoring the drool that wettened the corner of it.

"But–," you mumbled and a dreamy, fucked-out smile spread in your face, "I haven't even heard the dare yet."

©itsonlydana 2024, character art by MiracleAna on Devianart

[huntiesworld]

I LOVE THEM

Chris x Matt x reader

Summary: Matt and Chris both tease Y/n about how shy she gets. And they want to see her smile more so they play a game.

I haven’t seen anyone do this. And I don’t know if I coped anyone but if I did I’m sorry!

Warning: Nope

Request: Nope

The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over the cozy living room. Y/N sat on the couch, a book in her lap, trying to focus on the words but finding it increasingly difficult with Matt and Chris sitting on either side of her. They’d been watching a movie, but now the screen was paused, and both men were looking at her with identical mischievous grins.

“Hey, Y/N,” Matt said, nudging her with his shoulder. “You’ve been pretty quiet over there. Everything okay?”

Y/N nodded, feeling her cheeks heat up under their intense gazes. “Yeah, just reading,” she murmured, hoping they wouldn’t notice her flushed face.

Chris chuckled, leaning in a bit closer. “You know, you’re really cute when you get all shy like this.”

Y/N’s blush deepened, and she buried her face in her book, trying to hide her embarrassment. “I’m not shy,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible.

Matt laughed softly, reaching over to gently tug the book from her hands. “Come on, Y/N. No need to hide. We just think it’s adorable.”

Y/N glanced up at him, her heart pounding. “You guys are teasing me again,” she said, though there was no real accusation in her tone.

Chris smirked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Can you blame us? It’s not every day we get to see you all flustered. Besides, we kind of like it.”

Y/N squirmed a little, unsure how to respond. The truth was, she had always had a bit of a crush on both Matt and Chris, but she never expected them to notice her like this, let alone tease her about it.

Matt, sensing her discomfort, softened his teasing a bit. “Hey, it’s all in good fun. We just like seeing you happy and comfortable around us.”

Chris nodded in agreement. “Yeah, we’d never do anything to make you feel bad. You know that, right?”

Y/N nodded slowly, feeling a warmth spread through her chest that had nothing to do with her embarrassment. “I know,” she said softly, a small smile playing on her lips.

Matt grinned, leaning back into the couch cushions. “Good. Now, how about we find something else to do? Maybe a game or something? Something that’ll get you to smile even more?”

Chris immediately perked up. “Yeah, that sounds like a great idea. What do you think, Y/N?”

Y/N looked between the two of them, feeling a surge of affection for her friends. “Okay, a game sounds fun,” she agreed, her shyness fading as their warmth and kindness enveloped her.

Matt and Chris exchanged a quick, triumphant glance before turning back to her, their expressions softening. “Perfect,” Matt said, pulling out a deck of cards from the coffee table drawer. “How about a classic game of Uno?”

Y/N laughed, her nerves finally settling. “You’re on. But don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because you’re being nice.”

Chris chuckled, shuffling the cards with practiced ease. “We wouldn’t expect anything less. Let the games begin.”

And as the evening wore on, filled with laughter and playful banter, Y/N couldn’t help but feel incredibly lucky. She knew that no matter how much they teased her, Matt and Chris cared deeply for her, and that made all the difference.

[danieyells]

so @yuri-is-online briefly brought up this theory before but

Zenji says the doll looks just like his little brother.

Zenji and Jiro have the EXACT, DOWN TO THE HEX CODE same hair color and similar eye colors. The doll's is a little different, and the eyes are closer to Jiro's eye color than Zenji's.

There's also the campus chat which the game did not see fit to give me at the turn of the hour damn you where Zenji eagerly wants to help Jiro find something in the infirmary.

So anyway Jiro and Zenji are probably brothers. One of Zenji's voicelines even has him complimenting his own name, which makes me think it's a pseudonym.

Jiro says he was in an extended coma, although we don't know when exactly that was. Zenji says he has a story about "a hapless fool of a man" that he wonders if he'll ever get to tell you. . .I wonder if they're related stories. Maybe Jiro's coma has to do with Zenji's pact.

Jiro also says he saves lives that can be saved, but it's part of his job to decide the order of priority. I wonder if he looked at Zenji dying during the clash and decided he couldn't save him. Or maybe he was going to try and Zenji told him that he knew he wasn't going to make it and Jiro should prioritize someone else. I think that'd sound like Zenji.

. . .Jiro also mentions that it's been a long time since he had a family. If his annoying and fussy older brother died a while ago, I wonder if that's what he meant. . .unless he just doesn't remember Zenji is his brother at all. Also he said noise doesn't bother him when he's reading. . .I wonder if he got used to reading while Zenji played his biwa and sang nearby. And now it feels weird to read in silence.

One of Zenji's voicelines also has him ask you if you're going to Mortkranken. Of course, Zenji is noted to worry over others, so he asks if you're hurt and hopes you'll take care. He says he doesn't mean anything by asking if you're going to Mortkraken. . .and he also doesn't mean anything by asking if you have siblings. . . .

i just. it's a solid and likely theory. i think they're brothers and Jiro just never mentions it, either because he can't remember/doesn't know or it hurts to think about. Maybe it'll come up in the Mortkranken chapter, or whenever we start learning more about The Clash.

[anonymous-yandere-writer]

Requested by: @elysiumrealms

Sure! I did think some fleshing out on how the rest of the family acts around them would be cool to write. Sorry this took so long btw, my inbox gets stuffed pretty quickly and it was finals week. Anyway thanks for the ask!

-

Anon-Yan 💌‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Platonic Yandere Malleus

Pt.3

For you, the time before your punishment was nothing but a blurry mess.

Genuinely you don't remember all your horrible habits and manipulative tactics, you just remember acting on your insticts and not really thinking before you acted.

The few things you do remember is the interactions you had with your other family members.

The most memorable were the ones with Grandpa Lilia, when you were younger he loved cuddling you upside-down. Even if his grip was iron-strong it still felt so warm that you didn't want to leave.

When you got older he would allow you to play with some of his video games, he was always so sweet and helpful. Making sure you never got too frustrated at one certain part before taking the controller from you and completing whatever challenge had you stumped.

Lilia just loves babying you in a way he never got to with either of his original children.

He never failed to make you feel like the spoiled little brat you were.

"Ooh! Don't cry Darling, there's no need for that. Here, do you need Grandpa to help you? Okay sweet-pea. Don't worry, grandpa's here for you"

Then there's uncle Silver, who whose probably the most boring person to hang out with out of everyone in the family.

Don't get me wrong, you enjoyed his company but nothing even vaguely interesting happened whenever you hung around him.

He always really apologetic about it though, even going as far to bring you a little toy everytime he was allowed alone time with you. Typically is just a teddy bear, so that at night when you fell asleep you would think of your uncle Silver.

"Sorry we weren't able to play today. Here, have this. It's so when you fall asleep at night, you'll always remember your uncle Silver."

Your uncle sebek on other hand, he was hard to forget.

He was always loud, his voice commanded battalions after all. So a voice like his would definitely need for job like that.

You and him never played together, in his own words "WAKA-SAMA'S CHILD DESERVES A MUCH BETTER PLAYMATE THAN A LOWRANKING OFFICER SUCH AS MYSELF!"

Or whatever that was supposed to mean. You never really understood his way of thinking. While he was screaming his head off about not being good enough for you, you had sit and listen to him whilst daydreaming of all the video games Grandpa Lilia would play with you later.

It was boring, and eventually as you grew older you learned to tune him out.

Though I guess that wasn't the greatest idea, because within a week of learning how tune out his voice he came to you sobbing on his hands and knees begging for forgiveness.

"PLEASE FORGIVE ME WAKA-SAMA'S CHILD! WHATEVER SLIGHT HAVE DONE TO YOU, I BEG FOR YOUR FORGIVENESS AND MERCY! JUST PLEASE STOP IGNORING ME MY LEIGE!"

But I guess that all leads you to where you are now. Stuck in a boring old rickety tower. Stuck studying and doing chores all day. At least Father allowed for your family to visit from time to time.

Their faces and voices make the endless cycle you've been going through day-to-day slightly more bareable. But to be perfectly honest, with every passing moment that you're stuck here; in this damned tower made to be your prison, you lose a small peice of your sanity.

A peice of your mind that can never be returned to it's owner.

Trully a cruel thing to do, especially to your own child. Isolating them from everyone and everything they've ever known to prove a point, when it wasn't even truly their own faults that caused such a mess? Foolish, and downright cruel if anyone asked you.

Ah, but what can you do?

You did do this to yourself after all, might as well own up to your mistakes and pay the price.

[backtothefanfiction]

Make Me Forget | tasm!Peter Imagine

Summary: After Harry nearly strangled you, things can never be the same again. (A follow on from Crushed)

Warnings: 18+ Only, smut, cheating, guilt, violent boyfriend, trauma, angst, hurt/comfort

A/N- I never planned on making a follow up to crushed but this just came into my head and I needed to get it out. This is a quick one before bed, but smutty because I’m trying to get my head back into the smutty game to complete some of my other WIPs. Also I haven’t written for Peter in a while and thought he deserved some love.

You: Hey…

You: Can we talk?

You: Please?

You: ….

You: Peter?

You: Please Peter, don’t ignore me.

You: ….

You: Please….

You: I need you.

It had been nearly two weeks now since the night Harry almost killed you. The night that Peter saved your life. The night you kissed him and asked you to stay. When you had woken the next morning, he had already gone and he’d clearly been avoiding you ever since.

You tried to push the whole thing to the back of your mind. Tried to play along with Harry and pretend nothing had ever happened. But ever since that night, it was like something had died inside you.

You didn’t want to look at Harry in a different light, but you couldn’t help it. Although you both tried the bruises around your neck, the one clear reminder of Harry’s little episode remained; and although you covered them with a scarf until they disappeared, you still felt them as if they were burned on your skin. Every time you breathed, it was like the scarf that covered them, grew tight and brought you back to that moment every time.

All you wanted to do was talk to someone about it. As Peter was the only other person who knew, you wanted to talk to him about it, but you hadn’t seen or heard a single word from him since that night. You dared not ask Harry about Peter either, for fear it would trigger something. So you just sat and let it eat you from the inside out alone.

In all truth, the moment it had happened you knew you wanted to leave Harry, but every time you tried to do it, you couldn’t, guilt eating at your insides like a parasite. Guilt for knowing it wasn’t truly Harry’s fault. Guilt for knowing his illness would kill him before long and not being able to make him go through it alone. Guilt for kissing Peter, Harry’s best friend…. and of course for wanting to do it again.

You: Peter, please talk to me!

It was no use. No matter how many times you tried, he just seemed to ignore any attempt you made to contact him.

2 weeks turned into 4. The bruises faded completely. Harry was trying to do everything he could to make it up to you. You knew Peter had been around because Harry began to bring him up in conversation again; but it was clear he was making sure to see Harry only when you weren’t around.

At 6 weeks, things began to turn again. Although he never laid a finger on you, Harry became spiteful again. He would rant about work. Rant about random people he’d run into on the street. When he grew extra heated you would see a flash of green in his veins at his neck or he’d smash a glass and it would take you straight back to that night. But he’d always see you flinch. Always realise when he’d gone too far… until one night, he didn’t.

“WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS?” Harry screamed, the highball glass in his hand collided with the marble floors and shattered into a million pieces. “I MEAN I-“ he said storming towards you, his finger prodding at his chest, “I!” He reiterated louder, “PAY FOR HIS FUCKING SALERY!”

You shrank back against the wall as he stomped passed you, crossing to the bar in the living room to fix himself another drink. You knew it was a bad idea to let him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him, worried it would only anger him more.

“The ONLY reason he’s still even on the board is because he was my father’s best friend.” He seemed to laugh at that. “As if you could imagine anything so ridiculous as my father having a best friend. SOME BEST FRIEND, LETTING HIM DYE ALONE!” He knocked back the last of his drink, before that glass collided with the wall. Suddenly it became all too clear this wasn’t about the guy on the board at all- but Peter.

“Harry-“ you said tentatively as you stepped forward, wanting to know what exactly had happened, but the closer you got, the clearer the green in his veins showed. When his eyes locked on yours, you knew he was gone.

“DON’T HARRY ME, SWEETNESS! WE BOTH KNOW THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!” He spat as he crossed the room towards you. “You in your little SLUT dresses! Fluttering your WHORE LASHES all over the place.”

It was like walking into a lions den wearing the famous Lady GaGa meat dress, you knew you’d fucked up, quickly trying to step back and run away before you got eaten, but it was no use as he charged at you. “Harry- stop- please!” You cried, “I don’t know what you’re taking about. I haven’t seen Peter in weeks. HARRY! PLEASE LISTEN TO ME!”

You raced around the room, attempting to place large pieces of furniture between you. To give yourself enough space to get out. At the memory of what happened before, your throat grew tight. Words began to fail you. You knew you were on your own this time. You had to get out. You needed to distract him. You used the only thing you could think of that Harry hated more than anything else lately- Spider-Man.

You made your eyes dart towards the window behind him and back again. Then you did it a second time, catching his focus before you said, “Hey, is that Spider-Man?”

“SPIDER-MAN!” Harry fumed, his anger dialling up a notch, but with his new hatred peaked, he turned his back on you to face the window. As he stalked towards the rooftop doors, ready to fling them open in search of the masked vigilante, ready to curse him out, you ran. He barely had time to realise what you had done and come back and curse you out for it, when you were already in the elevator and on your way back down to the lobby.

🕷️ 🕷️ 🕸️🕷️🕷️

When Peter got back to his apartment, the last thing he was expecting was to find you, curled up in a ball on his doorstep waiting for him.

“Y/N?” He asked confused. When you looked up at him, he immediately knew something was really wrong. Your eyes were red and puffy from crying. He immediately knew it was because of Harry. Peter frowned, remembering what had happened last time, sudden fear coursed through him. Fear… and guilt. He should have never ignored you. Never left you alone. No matter how hard it hurt to see you with him. “What did he do?” He almost snarled, but knew it was the wrong move as he saw the panic and fear in your eyes.

He quickly softened and you picked yourself up off the floor so he could get to the door to open it for you both. Neither of you said anything more until you were inside. The silence as you both made your way through the tiny apartment, Peter dumping the bag of groceries that had been in his hand on the small kitchen side, gave you time to compose yourself, to wipe at your face and the last traces of tears on your cheeks, as you took in the boxy studio apartment. You sat yourself down on the end of his bed.

“Do you want anything?” He asked as he quickly put away his groceries; a carton of milk, a box of sugary cereal, eggs and three frozen pizzas- all pepperoni. “A glass of water or-“

“I want you to make me forget.” Your small voice said as you looked down at your hands.

His hand hesitated a moment, half frozen on its way to get a cup out of the cupboard. You mustered up some confidence and stood again, moving across the floor towards him. He slowly lowered his hand from the cupboard as your hands reached for him. Your fingers clawed at his shirt with need as you came to a stop and stared up into his soft brown eyes. The only eyes you had thought of for the last 6 weeks. The ones that had got you through. You then lowered your eyes to his lips. “Please, make me forget.” You spoke to them, your eyes heavy, your need for him now you were stood before him once more growing too great.

“Y/N, I can’t. You know- Harry- I”

“It’s over. Me and Harry are done. I’m not going back- I can’t- just… please.” You said, your eyes meeting his once more, softly pleading with him. He hesitated as he stared at you, clearly weighing up the right thing to do in his head. “Please, Pete,” you whispered as your hands ran back up his sides, your eyes falling back to his lips, “please just make me forget.”

You reached up on tiptoes to capture his lips in yours. When his hands gripped hold of your arms you stopped, moving your head away. Sure he was about to push you away. You watched closely as he fought to push away, to do the right thing- but he just pulled you in closer.

His mouth was on yours hungrily as you both leaned into the kiss, your arms flying around his neck, his arms twisting around your back as he lifted you off the floor, walking you both towards the bed. As he tried to place you back down on it, you refused to let go of him, pulling him down on top of you, your tongue reaching to lick into his mouth. He tasted of coffee and sugar, far from the bitterness and whiskey Harry tasted off.

His fingers were gentle as he pushed your hair back away from your face, his fingers tangling with it behind your ears, the safety and security of his touch making you soften beneath him. The realisation made you well up and when Peter wiped his thumb across your cheek and it came away wet, he quickly moved back.

“You’re crying.” He said.

“I know.” You replied as you reach to pull him back to you.

“Wait-“ he said.

“It’s okay. You replied, they’re happy tears.” You said softly, but he didn’t quite believe you.

“Pete, please, you just-“ you swallowed away your tears, willing him to believe you, “you make me feel safe.”

“And that made you cry?” You didn’t say anything, but he could see the truth in your eyes- and it made him soften. “I’m sorry,” he sighed, as he wiped away at the trail your last tear had left behind. “I’m sorry he did this to you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there-“

“You’re here now Pete,” you reassured him, “please, Peter, I don’t want to talk about him anymore. I don’t want to think about him. I just want you,” you said, breathing the last words into him. “Please… make me forget.”

He paused for a moment, letting you know with his eyes that he understood, a silent promise that he would. He had already let you down once- had been letting you down these past 6 weeks. He wouldn’t let you down again.

When he leaned back down to capture your lips with his again, they were softer, his kisses slower, more gentle, with more purpose. Lazily pulling every little tingle, relaxing every tight pent up muscle from you, one kiss at a time. He moved from your lips, to your jaw, down your neck, your fingers curling into the strands of hair on the back of his head. He suckled and licked his way all the way down the exposed skin on your chest. When he reached the neckline of your top he stopped, moving away and shuffling himself back, his fingers reaching for the fastening of your trousers.

He paused only for a second to double check this was truly what you wanted and when you silently nodded your head at him, too relaxed, too dreamy and drunk on him, he finally pulled down your trousers and your underwear, exposing your lower half to him.

When he knelt down and parted your legs, you barely had time to acknowledge the cold air against your sex as he covered it with his warm tongue, slowly licking and kissing his way between your folds. He relished every sigh and moan that escaped your mouth. You wanted him to make you forget, but he took his time, savouring every second so he would always remember.

When he sucked your clit between his lips, your back arched off of his bed, body squirming with over stimulation, breath hitching and squeaking in your throat. He hoped to all gods it was healed enough and that you’d let him slide his cock down it later.

When he began to work two of his fingers into your now dripping cunt, curling them, begging for you to give him all you had, you sighed his name and he swore he almost came in his pants.

He seemed to drag out your pleasure for nearly an hour, building you up, letting you cool back down again until you were a pleading puddle, putty in his hands with nothing on your mind other than him.

When you whined, “Peter, please,” after your third lazy orgasm, he finally obliged, climbing back up on top of you, safe in the knowledge that the only thing you will ever have on your mind now, for the rest of time, will be this moment and him.

[allthelittlecreepycrawlies]

What To Do When They Dig You Up, Part 1

okokok, so I got inspired by this super fucked up (affectionate) fic by @tavina-writes, and with permission, I decided to start on a sequel. I'm posting it in chunks as I finish them in hopes that it will be enough to make me, you know, actually make it to the end of this thing.

warnings: past branding and abuse, ptsd and panic attacks, discussion of fucked up self-image, public humiliation.

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

“You don’t want to be here today,” Meng Yao murmurs as he guides Nie Huaisang out of the throne room, leaving their mutual master pacing in front of the throne with a sharp grin like a tiger expecting a feast.

‘What could possibly be different about today compared to any other?’ Nie Huaisang wants to ask, but does not.

The hallway is colder than usual, making his face and wrists and back throb hot, and he sinks into the pain, barely aware of Meng Yao’s gentle hands on his shoulders and the act of putting one foot in front of the other.

It’s not until Meng Yao lets him go and opens a door that he realizes he has not been taken back to his master’s bedroom. 

“Yao-ge?” he asks, and his voice sounds as alien to his own ears as the chill of the hall.

Meng Yao presses his mouth into a thin line, glancing back the way they came. “A-Sang,” he says carefully, having long stopped calling him ‘Gongzi’ because hearing the old title had made him retch more than once. “Do you trust me?”

‘What kind of question is that?’ Nie Huaisang wants to ask, but does not.

Nowadays, Meng Yao is always the one who puts him back together after his master takes him apart. The ebb to the flow, the pull to the push, the carrot to the stick. 

Nie Huaisang does not know the rules to this new variant of the game he has been trapped playing ever since his escape failed.

He has never asked either, afraid that his one respite will be stripped away, either by Meng Yao reporting on him or simply by his master’s whim.

At least Meng Yao seems to realize that he has pressed a raw nerve, because he shakes his head a little. “Nevermind. Just… stay here for now, alright? Will you do that for me?”

Nie Huaisang manages to nod and steps into the room, and the door swishes and clicks closed behind him.

The room is sparse on furniture, and still cold.

He is starting to wonder if the cold is part of him and not something to do with the palace.

There are robes draped over a chair, heavier ones than the gauzy things his master likes to see him in. They don’t fit exactly right, the hems just a little short at his wrists and bare ankles- and he knows who they must belong to. 

“Thank you, Yao-ge,” he mumbles to the empty space around him, then layers them against the chill.

There is a barred window that is the only thing of interest. 

He pulls a chair over and tries to sit, then winces and decides on the cushions on the floor instead.

All he wants to see is the sky, anyway.

—

The Nightless City has its name for a reason. Even as the true sun vanishes, there is enough light from the fire pits and the many lanterns that he can only see the very brightest stars.

He has heard noises on the other side of the door; running feet and low but urgent voices. But none of them have been Meng Yao, so he has mostly ignored them, too intent on savoring the most peace and quiet he’s had since-

A flash and the sound of a small explosion jolt him out of the light doze he was drifting into, and he lurches to his feet and stares up through the window at the flare for what seems like ages before his mind finally registers that it’s not a Wen flare.

And then there is another. 

And then three more from a different direction.

Soon there are dozens, in multiple colors and sect symbols, and behind him, he can hear the chaos in the hallway briefly rise, then abruptly cease.

When he starts laughing, it seems like it’s coming from outside himself, from a non-existent other person in the room. Only when the laughter gradually morphs into tears does the feeling slowly gather in his chest, pulling inward from outside him.

Even that has faded by the time a fist hammers on the door, leaving him completely numb as he turns to face the intruders.

They are wearing the colors of his sect and the one in front at least has a proper saber, but he doesn’t recognize any of them… another note on the very extensive list of reminders of just how long it has been since his one and only ill-fated attempt to escape this place.

The man in the lead looks him over -barefoot, hair loose, borrowed robes- and his lip has already started to curl in disgust before his gaze focuses needle sharp on the horrible mark of ownership that covers half of Nie Huaisang’s face.

“Zongzhu has us spread out looking for you,” he says, clearly irritated to have been given such a ‘useless’ task when he could have been doing something of actual importance.

Nie Huaisang does not snip back at him. 

Nie Huaisang keeps his head down and follows the small knot of mixed soldiers and cultivators, and doesn’t respond when one or another pushes him out of annoyance at how slow he’s moving. He realizes they’re taking him back to the throne room and dread begins to well up from his stomach into the back of his throat.

It is nothing like the dread he has lived with every waking moment previously, thick and sticky and weighing his whole body down as though drowning in wet clay. No, this dread is sharp and so cold it burns its way through his body like the winters back home, leaving his nose and fingers and toes prickling and his lungs feeling like he has inhaled needles.

The door opens and his escorts move aside.

His brother is staring at him.

So is everyone else gathered in the throne room.

The dread cracks and shatters under the gush of mortification that floods down his throat, leaving him so dizzy that his legs refuse to hold him.

All Nie Huaisang can do is kneel, head down, as the crowd -people he knows and people he doesn’t and so many people, people, people- erupt into gossiping, some whispering and some not bothering.

Within moments, it all blends together into a dull wordless sea of noise, which he thinks might be his mind’s last desperate attempt at preserving itself under this final assault on the barest shred of dignity he has left.

Was this intentional?

Is it another layer of the game?

Does that matter?

Trembling and struggling to just keep inhaling and exhaling air, he decides that it doesn’t.

He lost.

He lost, he lost, he lost, he has been losing ever since he proved himself too pathetic to get out of this on his own. 

He says nothing in his defense- does not apologize, nor beg- because what good would it do? 

His brother has to despise him, as he's practically an embodiment of his worthlessness as a Nie now. 

Marked for ownership by their most hated enemy; a grotesque mockery of everything their sect -their family- stands for. 

At best he can probably hope for exile... much more likely is that the stain on their name will be removed directly.

A heavy hand comes to rest on his back and he involuntarily cringes, curling in on himself even more. His brother’s voice cuts through the dull roar around him and in his head, but he can’t understand the words.

More murmuring, then-

“Out. Now!”

He doesn’t mean to jump at the snarled command; doesn’t mean to recoil as some long-forgotten sense of self-preservation suddenly flares to life from under the piles and piles of ash that Wen Ruohan had made of his mind. The way his head jerks up like that of a startled deer is completely involuntary.

They are alone. And his brother… is angry. 

Angry, angry, angry, so angry.

But not… but not at him.

The other big hand lays Baxia down on the cold stone floor then comes to rest on his face, broad palm covering the inner swirl of the brand and thumb covering one of the flames that extend over his nose in a way that is hot, but -for once- not painfully scorching.

“Didi. Who. Did this?” his brother asks, a deep rumble like the sound of a rock fall that threatens to become a whole avalanche.

It should be an easy answer, and yet it takes him once, twice, three times to manage to get his voice and mouth to form the words “Wen Ruohan did it himself.”

Da-ge’s eyes narrow. “No one else?”

He doesn’t know what Da-ge is searching for. For him to lie? 

The dread starts to creep back in. Is this a test? Is he failing? Will he be exiled or executed after all? Should-

The hands on his face and back tense briefly, then gentle, and so does Da-ge’s expression. “Nevermind,” he says. “We’ll talk about those things later.

And then Nie Huaisang finds himself swept into a near-bruising hug, the unblemished side of his face pressed into Da-ge’s shoulder.

Oh, this-

This-

His breath hitches in his throat, and then comes out as a sob.

—

There is a banquet.

Nie Huaisang does not go, instead remaining holed up in the new room he has been given for as long as the logistics of breaking down what remains of the spoils among the Sunshot participants will take.

He has yet to find anything suitable for covering his face, and though he has already embarrassed himself and his brother by appearing in front of some of those allies, there will be… others attending, and he wants to put off having to be seen by them as long as possible.

Someone leaves him food and wine at the door. 

That’s good enough.

There is one thing he needs to do, however, and once it is late enough that he can be reasonably sure he won’t run into any revelers, he silently slips out of his room.

Just his luck that Da-ge and Xichen-ge are walking down the hall just as he exits, but they are fortunately too distracted to notice him, talking urgently in low tones.

“-and my answer is still no, Xichen. I will have enough to deal with looking after my flesh and blood brother.”

“Mingjue-xiong-”

He decides he does not want to know what they are discussing, and continues on his way.

The last time he saw Meng Yao was when he was being hidden away from whatever -likely Wen Ruohan’s death- was happening in the throne room. 

He has heard that Meng Yao has finally won legitimization.

He just wants to see for himself, that’s all.

—

Of course, he hadn’t expected to immediately be placed on the same level as his half-brother, but Jin Guangyao had hoped for… something more when his father had decided to officially declare their familial relationship.

Something more than continuing to be the hands that conducted the dirty work to keep others clean.

Something more than a private -public- joke to be snickered at as his family got deeper into their cups.

Sitting on his temporary bed, he sighs and rubs his face. At least Nie-zongzhu hadn’t picked any especially tumultuous arguments… not with him, anyway. That’s a good sign, considering…

He wishes A-Sang had been there. He understands why he wasn’t, but nonetheless, he wishes A-Sang had been there. 

He hadn’t been present for the reunion of the Nie brothers in the throne room, having been carrying out his father’s demand elsewhere, but he had heard about it by eavesdropping on the eavesdroppers, and he just wants to know if-

-no, nevermind. 

He will check up on his once-charge in the morning, once things have settled and he doesn’t have to worry about being bitten by a certain protective guard dog of a brother.

He finishes shedding his boots, and is just about to blow out the candle and settle under the covers when there is a soft -very familiar- pattern rapped at his door.

Surprised, but not unhappy, to hear it, Jin Guangyao gets up to answer it and offers a smile to his visitor.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Claire!! I ran to your inbox the second I saw your post about drabbles being open!! :D

Would be willing to write something for Tommy Shelby using this prompt: “Don’t play games with me, sweetheart. You won’t like it when I play them back.” ?? Take the story in whatever direction you desire….I just know it’ll be amazing!

Thanks so much if you choose to! A

A little short for my darling K? Of course <3 I hope you like the direction I went in with this!

Words - 1,139

Warnings - None

“You don’t need to lie to me. You hate him, don’t you? I see it, kitty cat. That face of yours when you’re on his arm? It ain’t the face of a broad who's happy to be there.”  

He was right, too. Although you had to wonder how many times others had witnessed your carefully placed facade slip. Then again, you hadn’t been stepping out all too long with Tommy Shelby. You didn’t intend on doing so either. 

Tommy didn’t remember you from school. He had no recollection over how he’d made you feel about yourself as a little girl, the name calling, the teasing, the shoving you around. “Boys will be boys, my sweet”, your father had always said. Your mother had taken a much less blasé approach.  

“Darling girl of mine, boys will not be boys. Boys will be however we let them behave. If that little shit continues to act like this, wallop him one.” 

While you appreciated her stance, you never did give him the aforementioned walloping. Until now, in your decision to make him pay for being your playground tormentor, your bully. Some might call it immature of you not to be able to move on from it, but truly, Tommy Shelby has done more to hurt you than any other. 

It didn’t stop in the playground. 

The growth of The Shelby Company Ltd, with its wings spreading like an albatross across the coal-black suburbs of Birmingham led to your father being put out of work, your brother being recruited and then executed as a Peaky Blinder and your family losing everything. Tommy was so lost within the vast vortex of his own ego that he didn’t even recognise you, by neither sight nor name when you approached him one evening in The Garrison, your charm amped up, your plan set into action. 

You would make him fall in love with you, you would toy with his heartstrings and then, finally, you would rip them to pieces. Just like he did to your life. Just like he always had.  

Your plan? It worked. Effortlessly.  

Every time he called to court you, you would exit the door of your lodgings looking pristine, ready to be wined and dined, your place upon the arm of the city’s most prolific gangster a spot coveted by many. It never did fail to make bitter fire lick your insides, though, while other women burned with envious ire. Your revulsion ran deep, but you had to confess; at least he was pretty to look at. At least he was a talented and sensual lover.  

You never allowed him in too much, though, and it was the cleverness, the assertive aloofness of your nature that had the poor fool coming back for more every time.  

“Why don’t you ever stay with me, sweetheart?” he asks you on one such night, as you pull yourself back into your clothes. 

Looking away from the garter clasp you’re about to affix to your stocking, you see it there in his eyes. Pleading. Longing. The desire to spend the entire night curled around you in a warm, loving embrace.

“I like my own bed.” 

He tuts, reaching for his cigarette. “You always say that. Don't even let me stop over there with you either.” 

“I like my own bed alone.” 

“And what when we’re married, eh?” he questions, exhaling a thick plume of smoke into the dark of the room. “Will you let me share a bed with you then, or are we to be like an old-fashioned Victorian couple, same bedroom, single beds?” His eyes glint at you, shifting to sit up a little. “That’s a bit puritan for a girl who likes being fucked as dirty as you, love.” 

The urge to punch that smug, pretty face of his. Buttoning your blouse, you reach for your coat and pull it on, picking up your bag and then leaning to press a kiss upon his lips. “I’ll say goodnight now, Tommy. Let you go to sleep and dream of me.”  

He isn’t used to not getting his own way, and lord, how it shows. He reaches for your wrist, grasping you in a hard clutch, your mind flashing back to the playground. He’d do this while kicking your shins and mocking you. “Don’t play games with me, sweetheart. You won’t like it when I play them back.” 

You smirk, and the devil’s fire flashes through his eyes. “Is that a threat, darling?” 

“It’s a bloody promise, love, and you know it is. Might have to tie you to this bed next time, stop you from escaping on me.” He smiles then, something boyish in him as he tilts his head, pulling you down into a soft kiss. “I love you, even if you are a bloody temptress.” 

“Love you, too. Goodnight.” 

Leaving the bedroom, you saunter down the stairs and into the lounge, going into his jacket pocket and removing the keys to the building he runs his legitimate business from, Out of your purse, you remove the soft ball of clay you’ve stashed away wrapped in paper, flattening it with your palm before pressing each key into it.

With those imprints taken, you visit the local foundry the following day, asking for a set of keys to be made to those exact impressions. 

“Ahh, nice, easy little job this, bab,” the foreman informs you, removing his cap to scratch his balding head as he takes the lump of now dried clay. “Have ‘em ready for ya by close.”  

After returning later that evening, you have within your grasp the tools you require to facilitate the final piece of your plan, the last little detail being delivered to you by a third party, one who after arriving from New York saw quite clearly how much use you could be to him, getting close enough to ruin Tommy Shelby and all he held dear.  

Walking through the bar of The Grand Hotel, you slide into a seat beside the handsome Italian waiting for you, placing the keys into his hand. 

“You did good, doll,” he drawls, eyeing you appreciatively. “Here.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a roll of bills, handing them to you with a wink before taking your hand and kissing it. “If you’re ever in New York in the future, please, don’t think twice about looking me up.” 

Of course, Luca Changretta could have simply broken into the building he required access to, but Tommy is a shrewd operator. He would notice even the most carefully picked lock, and the plan was always for him not to see it coming. When The Shelby Company Ltd explodes into a ball of fire, both Tommy and Arthur within it, you know he never saw it coming.  

After all, he never truly saw you.  

[animeyanderelover]

Can I also request the marly guys (zeke, reiner,colt and porco) with an escaping s/o please? If it's to many people you don't have to write for colt or zeke. Thank you

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, toxic relationship, obsessive behavior, delusional mindset, manipulation, threats, blackmailing

Tags: @shumidehiro

Escaping s/o

Zeke Yeager

🚬​He's probably been aware of your silly plans for a while now but has never spoken up about it as he instead chooses to wait and see how it turns out. Whilst you are making your own plans though, Zeke is gearing up to counter them as he does his own work. Two can play the game after all and if you are conjuring up schemes behind his back, he will return the favor. After all the Titan Shifter is fairly confident that he will win this as he has the intelligence and the influence. The moment you finally put your plan in motion, Zeke is already prepared for everything and the whole thing ends soon in your undeniable defeat. He visits you later as you were put under custody until he arrives and it is then that he explains to you that he has been aware of your plot for a while now. He could have stopped you obviously as soon as he had his suspicions but he thought that it would perhaps be better to let you see and feel that you would do better to stop such shenanigans in the future as you stand no chance against him. The next time you come up with such a hoax, he won't amuse you any longer. This is the first and last time he played such a game with you.

Reiner Braun

🟤​Even if Reiner were to discover hints of your plans, he would most likely refuse to believe them. This guy is quite dependent on his darling after all the trauma and pain he had to endure and he is quite desperate for them to love him too which is why he is extremely overbearing. The first stage is just denial when he finds out that you have actually ran away from him as he instead tries to come up with excuses for what you have done all because he doesn't want to accept the truth. You couldn't! You would never do that! The moment the truth comes crashing down though, Reiner has a meltdown and starts bawling his eyes out. He is a mess and it needs the likes of Pieck and Porco to shake him out of his misery. He isn't far away from transforming into his Titan and chase after you but luckily he is stopped by his comrades as well as the last bit of consciousness that there are people important to him living here. Some more amicable soldiers of Marley agree to help him and he himself joins them, though he looks only seconds away from another meltdown. He's going to scream, cry and beg for them to never do this again as he locks them away in his house from that day on, his trust broken.

Porco Galliard

🌫️​Porco should technically not be surprised if you should attempt to escape from him. After all it is no secret to him that he has forced you into an engagement as well as marriage without even considering your wishes in it. Yet when it actually happens, there is still the disappointed anger as he can't help but think that even if he did all of that, it ultimately enabled you a better life. His anger only heightens the longer you are gone as he even snaps at Marley soldiers despite knowing how his kind is viewed by them. He doesn't fully trust them either so he goes on a separate pursuit to go after you and the moment you are found, you will not be spared of his ire. He's pissed as he yells at you, insult after insult leaving his lips as he calls you an ungrateful thing and points out how he has done nothing but better the situation for you and your family alike. Briefly he considers threatening you to take all the privileges away for you and your family but that would only be really possible through divorce and he would never consider that. He either locks you away like Reiner does or actually goes the extra step and asks the Marley soldiers to imprison you for a while so that you realize how good you have it with him.

Colt Grice

◻️Oh, the poor lad would be absolutely heartbroken. After all he has done nothing but protect and dote on them. Sure, he has done some things he is not too overly proud of such as also pushing you into an engagement but he shares similar motives to Porco as he wants to ensure your protection as soon as he becomes the next Titan Shifter. He is in denial and honestly, he remains stuck in disbelief even as he goes after you until you are caught and he sees you again. The spiteful and frustrated look you give him is finally enough to smash reality right against his chest. Why...? Why would you do this to him? His mind is racing, although all thoughts scatter before he can even properly form them as he tries to dig up something that he can say to you as he stares at you but no words ever leave his lips in that moment. His trust has been smashed and is left in pieces and he doesn't know what to do around you for a while as he has to stomach the realisation that the relationship is perhaps more threatened than he ever would have wanted to think. He would probably find himself turning to your family who, given the opportunities he gives you and them, would most likely shame you for your attempt.

[codslut]

Throwing in an edit here at the very top because I've gotten a few asks from people who have seen that screenshot: If you have seen this screenshot and know who this person is, please keep that knowledge to yourself and move on. Just because they screenshotted my post and took issue with me, as well as didn't make it clear for no one to send harassment and death threats my way over a fictional character I didn't add to a post, does not mean I want them to receive that treatment or be given the same energy back. Let's keep things nice and respectful, okay? Just because someone does something to you doesn't give you a valid excuse or justification to do it back. :)

So, I’m only going to say this once and that’s it. I’ll never address this again, not ever.

There's a screenshot floating around from a post I made by a user that's upset because I didn't add Gaz to it, but instead added Keegan. I, personally, didn't feel it fit Gaz although I'm sure others may disagree, which is okay. It's the same reason I added Soap from the original games instead of the reboot, as I didn't feel it fit him. I also like Keegan a lot because I’m a former Marine and I really connect with him because of that. You are free to disagree all you want, but people should be allowed to have differing opinions without being bullied over it or have assumptions made about them. Gaz is an amazing character, I really like him. I have reblogged content with Gaz in it, although I haven't gotten around to posting any of the Gaz-specific posts I've made yet due to being busy. But I do like him.

With that being said, I have a zero tolerance when it comes to drama or disrespectful behavior. I'm here to post and reblog random CoD content, that's it. You start something with me, or I catch you talking about me behind my back (will respectfully confront you first because I won't let you get comfortable with cowardice), and I will block you and forget you ever existed. If you have an issue with me, you can either cope with it internally or you can come to me in private and have an open and honest conversation with a level of maturity about things. Any nasty anons (which I've gotten saying they wished I had died on my tour of duty and other things because of Gaz erasure or that I don’t even play/know CoD despite it being a big part of my childhood and I love it especially because I was in the military) will be deleted on the spot and remain unanswered. I'm a grown ass woman who doesn't have time to deal with Regina George energy; you can take all that elsewhere until you learn to act right. There is absolutely no reason for that kind of behavior.

[lululandd]

corrupted;

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x f!reader

word count: 1.3k+

warnings: possessive behaviour, angst

note: :) (also on AO3)

summary: the first time he came home with his mask on, you didn’t let him in.

you weren’t even convinced it was simon at first. the man held himself too differently; he stood up too straight, his shoulders too square, there’s too much confidence in his stance as he stared you down.

the mask makes you feel uneasy, it makes it seem like he’s looking down at you with perpetual hostility in his eyes. normally you’d look up, but right now you opt to just glance up at him from time to time. but you do see from the corner of your eyes that he tilts his head at you, his gloved fingers tapping a rhythmic beat on the door jamb. 

“it’s me, love.” he assured you in his gruff and gravelly voice, recognising it as the one he reserves for drunks at the pub.

“can you take the mask off then? please?”

he sucked a breath, both his hands now have come up on either side of the door. “just want to shower and go the fuck to bed, love. don’t be difficult.”

you stood your ground, eyeing him coldly. “and how difficult would it be to take the mask off before coming inside?”

his dark eyes bore into yours, brows drawing close together. “christ fuck, woman.” he finally says, bitterness bleeds through his muffled voice as he yanks the thing off his head, “happy?”

no.

finally seeing him, you notice the deepening lines on the corner of his eyes, and the bags underneath it worse than ever before. his lips twitch as if to say something as you open the door wider for him to finally pass you.

simon trudged his boots off by the shoerack before heading upstairs, you hear your shared bathroom door slamming shut as you still stood by the front door. you almost wanted to cry, he didn’t even acknowledge your presence. you know simon’s job tires him out, he’s quieter and more reserved the first few days back; but today he gives you no hellos, no instructions to make tea, no offhand comment about the squeaking door that he complains about.

only silence greets you.

~

“come here.”

you barely turn from your little console, “no you come here.” giggling as you tried to find a safe spot so you could look at him and away from the game.

the bed dips heavily, you were tugged towards a warm chest as an arm snakes tightly around your waist and another slides up your collarbone, his finger absentmindedly tracing patterns on the side of your neck. he leaned his head on yours, pulling you flush against him; your back bumped against his solid chest as he leaves soft kisses on the top of your head.

it’s weirdly….foreign.

simon’s love language had always been physical touch; whether it’s a hand on your shoulder, his feet next to yours, knees touching on a hot day, but at this exact moment you can’t fathom why his touches felt so unfamiliar.

his kisses move downward, more insistent, lips lingering longer than it should. intoxicating but peculiar at the same time. 

“stop playing.” he warned, his hand getting worryingly close to squeezing your neck.

his hold had never felt so constricting, as if he fears you’d disappear if he loosens his grip on you. his mouth had found its way to your neck, sucking and biting until he’s had enough and places a large hand on the screen, forcing you to set the thing down.

“i said stop.” he ordered, voice worryingly close to a growl.

leaning further into him, he tightened his embrace on you. seeing you’re no longer distracted, he went back to marking your neck, lapping at the bruising skin. 

you sighed into his touches and kisses, fully surrendering in his hold. as he turned your head with a hand on your jaw, you could now see every scar, every freckle, every little imperfection on his face, and it was harder to form thoughts when he’s so close like this. “sim–”

his lips press into yours; harsh and domineering, as he pushed you into the mattress, making you gasp. taking your open mouth as an invitation, his tongue greedily swipes across yours.

the kiss ended as quickly as it started, with simon pulling back and opting to have a go at leaving marks on your neck again. he left a particularly hard suck by your pulse point, making you let out a nervous giggle, “stop, simon. i don’t think i have turtlenecks that high.”

“then let them see.” he breathed hotly against another part of your neck he hasn’t left kisses on. it made you shudder, no one had ever made you feel so desired before.

wrapping your arms around him, you smiled weakly, “i love you, simon. you don’t have to worry about other people.”

hearing you say that made him finally pause his persistent abuse on your skin.

“say it again.” 

you couldn’t even look into his eyes, your cheeks burn from the constant attention he’s giving you right now. but even that couldn’t dissuade the little voice in your head that's trying to tell you this isn't right, this doesn’t feel like him; but you said it aloud anyway, “i love you.”

“again,” he breathed, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips, “i want to hear you mean it.”

“i love you, simon.”

you could feel his smirk as he peppered kisses on your skin.

~

“simon you can’t be serious.” you chided him coldly, he has been wearing a face mask at home more often now. this time for a whole week straight. neither of you are even ill.

you could see something ominous and unpleasant underneath his glare as he turned his head towards you. “let me be, love.” he doesn’t even call you by your name anymore, as if he had completely forgotten what it is.

you groaned, “ugh, fine.” 

cutting the distance between you in record time, simon seized your wrist and held it up by his face, making you tumble into him. “what–”

“i love you.” he stated.

at this exact moment you thought him insane. you looked up at him, confusion and exasperation clear on your face.

“i'm sorry?” was the only thing you could think to say right now.

never have you thought simon was intimidating until this very moment. his eyebrows furrowed so deeply it made his pupils seem darker than it should. “say it back.”

you have no intention of saying it back.

his grip on your wrist had start to hurt at this point, and trying to wriggle away only made him hold it even tighter. the little yelp of pain you let out didn’t faze him even the slightest.

you only now realised this is not simon. in your mild attempt to break free from his grip you couldn’t help but to acknowledge his growing desire that’s been insistently prodding your front.

alarmed, you couldn’t help but to try and wriggle away harder. his insistent hand on the small of your back doesn’t help with the situation, either.

when he finally lets go of your wrist, opting to hold the back of your neck to hold you closer to him, you had already given up resisting. 

at that moment you felt as if you’re something of him to merely possess, and nothing else. tears escaped you, at first a little before cascading fully into sobs and whimpers. you don’t feel the love and warmth simon had, right now his grasp felt stiff and constricting.

“you’re not him, are you?” you hiccuped into his chest.

hearing no answer, you look up to see a man you loved, with a dangerous glint you don’t recognise in his eyes.

“no, you're not,” you answered your own question and his hold breaks. you let out a shuddered breath as you stare blankly at nothing, tears blurring your vision. “is he still in there?”

only silence answers.