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guess-my-next-obsession · 1 month ago

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the alchemy | v. the confession

pairing: no outbreak!dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you and joel find peace after a hard day, but it doesn’t stay that way for long.

chapter rating: E (18+ only, MINORS DNI, dbf/secret relationship, age gap (joel is 34, reader is 24), unprotected piv, joel has a filthy mouth, appearance of this man’s obvious breeding kink, angst to end it all--may contain some typos but i can’t be bothered to check)

wc: 4.4k

series masterlist | previous chapter

The waiting room of the doctor’s office you were interviewing at for a temp job as an administrative assistant while you awaited replies from more long-term positions was bleak and empty. The cold space was bright with overhead fluorescent lighting, the soft hum of a court TV show pairing horribly with the soft clacks of the receptionist’s keyboard. It was the perfect recipe for a headache, if your earlier conversation with your father hadn’t already given you one.

He’d been on your ass about keeping up with your chores, and though you admittedly had fallen behind on your end of the bargain, it wasn’t like you could tell him why you’d been too busy to chip in lately.

I’ve been busy falling in love with your good friend, dad didn’t seem like a good way to get yourself back into his good graces.

So, instead of prepping for your interview, you passive-aggressively tended to the sink full of dishes, only for him to switch gears and gripe that he didn’t mean you had to do them then and there.

Just another reason why you needed to start earning some money of your own so that you could find a small place and put some much needed distance between you and your father.

When the doctor and owner of the small practice finally called you back—twenty minutes past your agreed upon time—your head was pounding. If you hadn’t been so desperate to land a job, you might’ve slipped out at the five minute mark, but as it stood, you needed to see this shitty interview through.

For your sanity.

For some privacy.

For the potential to not have to sneak out every night just to see Joel.

JOEL

It had been a long fucking day.

Between the incessant ache in his lower back from yesterday’s job putting up drywall and the shipment of tile for his latest contract—a suburban couple’s renovation of their first home together—arriving cracked, he was desperate to get home and doze away on the couch with a cold beer.

Sarah was off at her friend’s house for the night, which meant he had the night to himself—unless you were able to sneak over and offer him some much welcomed company for the night.

But he wasn’t counting on that fact, not when your dad had been there to watch Sarah pack her overnight bag into Mrs. Jacobs’ silver minivan earlier that morning.

It didn’t stop him from hoping, nonetheless.

As he pulled his pickup into his driveway, Joel was surprised to find the exact person he’d been hoping to see sitting on the front step of his place. He hopped out of the truck with a newfound purpose and tried to tame the boyish grin creeping onto his face as he took you in. You looked more corporate than you usually did, a pair of slacks and a button-down blouse taking the place of your usual t-shirt and jeans, but you looked no less beautiful than you always did. A natural, effortless thing that had every nerve in his body alight with the need to get his hands on you.

“Hey,” you greeted him, a small smile lifting one corner of that mouth he loved so much.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” he asked, scanning the cul de sac as he stepped up onto his porch. “Dressed to impress, I see.”

You huffed out a small laugh and rolled your eyes as you stood, keeping a bit of distance between the two of you in case anyone happened to be watching. A fact that he loathed with every bone in his body.

“My key broke off in the front door,” you sighed, leaning against the wooden beam beside you. “My dad’s not going to be home until late tonight, and I didn’t feel like breaking in. Decided I’d slum it here until you got home.”

He stepped closer to you, his hand twitching with the urge to stroke his thumb over your cheek in hopes of turning your frown into one of those smiles he loved so much. “Need me to break in for ya?”

“You could,” you said, biting at your lip as you stared down at your nails. “Or we could go inside and you can help me forget about the shitty interview I just had.”

It was Joel’s turn to frown, despite the twitch he felt downstairs at the implication in your tone. “Didn’t get the job?”

“Maybe. I don’t know,” you scoffed. “I don’t want it, though. The doctor was a total dick. Made some joke about finally having someone pretty behind the desk to greet him in the morning. I’d rather be broke and unemployed than have to work with that bullshit.”

“Want me to kick his ass?” Joel asked, reveling in the laugh his words earned.

“No.” You smiled, lifting your eyes to meet his as the tip of your tongue slid out to wet your bottom lip. “I have better stuff in mind for you.”

Joel’s brown arched, a smirk lighting up his face. “Oh, yeah? And what might that be, darlin’?”

“Let me in and I’ll show you.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

As soon as Joel shut and locked the door behind him, you were pressing him against the wall.

Your lips found his ungracefully, but he didn’t seem to mind as he kissed you back with just as much unbridled need. It had been too long—three days now—since you’d gotten the chance to be truly alone with him. With Sarah at the house, the two of you had to be discreet and silent, and while it never hindered the pleasure you brought each other, it certainly dampened a bit of this passion you’d been yearning to feel.

Joel groaned as he slipped his hands over your hips to squeeze your ass through your trousers, pressing you tighter to his body. You bit at his lower lip and let your own hands travel, one to the nape of his neck and one down to palm at the bulge imprisoned by his jeans.

“Missed you all day, baby,” he said, his voice thick with desire as he guided you backwards towards the couch. “Couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you.”

“Tell me what you were thinking about,” you panted, straddling his lap as he sat down and pulled you with him.

“Thought about the way you looked when you were ridin’ me a couple nights ago,” he said, nipping at your jawline. “How you had to cover your mouth to keep quiet. Fuck, I got hard just thinkin’ about the sounds you make. Been too goddamn long since I heard ‘em. You gonna let me hear ‘em today, baby?”

“Fuck, yeah,” you moaned, grinding yourself against him as he started to unbutton your blouse, kissing each bit of skin he exposed along the way.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he praised, lathing his tongue over the swell of your breast as it sat pushed up by your bra. He peeled your shirt off your body and tossed it across the room before settling his big, warm hands on your waist, smoothing his rough palms across your smooth skin. “Wanna hear every fuckin’ thing.”

Your back arched as he lowered his mouth to your breast, kissing and nipping at you through the thin lace of your bra. With a skilled flick of his fingers behind your back, he had the bra unclasped and discarded on the floor along with your shirt, the cool air around you stiffening your nipples into sensitive peaks. He groaned as he palmed one of your breasts in his hand, his thumb stroking over the sensitive bud as he slowly lifted his eyes back to yours to watch your face crumple a bit with pleasure.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect, baby,” he whispered, shaking his head at you in reverence as he lowered his mouth to your nipple, kissing it softly. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

“Fuck, Joel,” you moaned, holding his head against your breast as he swirled and sucked at the bud before kissing his way over to the other. ”I need you inside me.”

Joel’s hands gripped you harder, pulling you closer. “Take me out and sit on it, then, honey. I ain’t stoppin’ what I’m doin’.”

Your limbs felt heavy and clumsy as you dropped your hands to his lap, as if you were drunk off Joel’s voice alone. You fumbled with his belt and the button of his jeans, undoing both with little grace as you scrambled to access the hard thickness straining beneath its rigid denim confines. Joel, meanwhile, hadn’t stopped lavishing your sensitive nipples with attention, alternating from sucking to nibbling to flicking at them with the tip of his tongue, all while his big hands restlessly stroked up and down the planes of your back.

“Stand up so I can take these off,” he ordered, tugging at the belt loops of your trousers. You obeyed immediately, letting him undo the button and slip your slacks and underwear off in one smooth motion before he shed himself of his own clothes, leaving him bare and beautiful in front of you. Joel was smiling as he tapped his lap with one hand and held your hip with the other. “Sit.”

You let out a soft keening sound at the rough, inviting tone of his voice, obeying once again. Joel watched your face as you straddled his lap, his eyes round with reverence and lips parting at the feeling of your soft palm wrapping around his pulsing girth.

“Fuck,” he hissed, biting his lip as his eyes fell to watch your hand pump him. “You got any idea what you do t’me, baby? Any fuckin’ clue how good y’feel?”

You replied with a hiss of your own as you flicked the tip of him along your seam, paying special attention to your swollen bundle of nerves. “Do you?”

Joel smiled for a half-second before his face crumpled into something dark and needy and absolutely sinful as you lined him up at your entrance, sinking down just enough to have his fat head inside you. He groaned at the tightness there, and you sighed at the delicious stretch of him making himself at home in the most precious of places.

“Always so tight,” he whispered, lifting his hands to your face as he pulled you down to him for a searing kiss. “So fuckin’ wet. Best fuckin’ pussy in the world.”

You smiled into the kiss and sank down further, relishing in the choked moan you tore from his chest. “And it belongs to you, Joel.”

“Shit,” he groaned, tossing his head back against the couch, giving you the perfect chance to press your lips against his pulse. Joel’s hands splayed across your hips, keeping you flush with his body for a moment while he gained his composure. “Tell me again.”

You grinded yourself against him, your clit rubbing against the patch of hair at his base and sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. “My pussy’s all yours, Joel.”

He growled, lifting your hips just to drive his own forward, drilling in deep. “Again.”

You let out a cry, fingers leaving crescent moons in the meat of his shoulders as his head found that spot deep inside you with every rough thrust upwards. “You own me, Joel.”

“Own what?,” he growled, using your body as a toy as he plunged deep over and over and over. Your face was buried in the nook of his neck as you held onto his broad frame, breathing in the scent of sawdust and warm cologne and sweat—so masculine, so distinctly Joel.

“You own my pussy,” you cried, meeting his thrusts in harsh bounces, the room filling with the lewd slap of your ass meeting his thighs. “You own every fucking part of me, baby.”

Joel’s hand came down onto your ass with a sharp sting, the pain blending with pleasure and driving you closer to that delicious edge. “Good fuckin’ girl. This pussy’s all mine. You’re all fuckin’ mine, ain’t ya?”

“Fuck, yes!” You rode him without care of how you looked while doing it. It was animalistic and primal the way you needed him, the way your body reacted to even the slightest of touches. Joel shared that same inhibition, hands gripping and roaming and mouth spewing with filth.

“Wanna carve my name into this fuckin’ pussy and make it mine forever. Put a fuckin’ baby in you,” he groaned, his lips pressing against the shell of your ear as the two of you worked in tandem to achieve pure bliss. His words had you clenching, even when you hadn’t expected to want or like them as much as you did. “That what you want, baby? Want me to fuck my cum nice and deep ‘til it takes?”

“Fuck, yes!” you cried, your walls squeezing him like a vice grip. “Wanna have your baby, Joel!”

He growled, using one hand at the base of your neck to pull your face from his shoulder so that he could look into your eyes. “So fuckin’ beautiful, honey. You’d look so goddamn pretty with my baby inside you.”

“Fuck, Joel, I’m so close,” you moaned, face wrecked with pleasure as you leaned back on his lap, your hands perched on his thighs for leverage. Joel growled at the change in position, at the sight of your body sprawled out on top of him, at the bounce of your breasts in his eyeline.

“I’m gonna cum nice and deep,” he said, biting his bottom lip as he lowered his thumb to your clit, working it in perfect circles. “Gonna make you a mess and then clean it up with my tongue. S’that what you want?”

“Please,” you cried, too fucked out to say anything better.

“Gonna taste us together ‘til you beg me to stop,” he said, his own voice now shaky and rough as he approached his release. “Fuck, baby. I need you t’cum for me. I’m too fuckin’ close.”

You didn’t need any more motivation, your body seizing up and crumbling on top of him with the weight of your climax. Joel gathered you in his arms and held you close to his chest, pressing kisses against your temple as he buried himself deep and let you have every last drop of his release.

“Take it,” he murmured, fucking his cum deep into your pussy. “Take what’s yours, darlin’.”

“Jesus,” you sighed, circling your hips against his as your climax faded to a warm, tingling thing. ”You’re too fucking good at this.”

Joel laughed, soft and breathy, as he smoothed a hand up and down your back before letting it settle on your ass with a gentle squeeze. “Fuck, I love the shit out of you, you know that?”

You froze, not out of fear or panic, but just the sheer surprise of such a confession falling so casually from his lips. Joel seemed to realize it too, as his hand stilled in its ministrations across your heated skin.

“We can pretend I didn’t say that, if y’want,” Joel said, sounding much too shy and insecure for your taste.

You sat up enough to look at him, watching as he avoided your stare like a nervous little boy.

“Look at me, you beautiful man.” He obliged, carefully lifting his eyes to meet yours. You held his face in your hands, guiding him to your lips for three gentle, loving pecks. “I don’t want to pretend. I…love you, too. Fuck, I think I’ve always loved you, Joel.”

Joel’s smile dawned again, washing away every trace of hesitation that lingered before. He leaned in to kiss you again, this time slow and languid as if he’d be content to do this for the rest of his life. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this…happy. This settled before. Just want you t’know that.”

“Neither have I,” you murmured, your lips refusing to move too far from his.

JOEL

You stayed with him later than you probably should’ve. The afternoon light had faded into evening, but neither of you paid any mind to the passing of time. You fell asleep shortly after he fulfilled his promise of cleaning you up with his tongue, your face buried in the nook of his neck as he dozed with you on the sofa.

He woke up before you, eager to take his time in watching you sleep beside him. It had become a favorite pastime of his in the short month the two of you had spent together, waking up before you just to watch you breathe. He’d never felt this way in any of his previous relationships, so enamored and in love with a person, even in their most base state. It had always been a sort of begrudging kind of love with his exes, as if there was a large part of his biology that rejected their company for one reason or the next. He mostly just felt out of place in their company, like living with a stranger or a roommate that he fucked every now and again.

But there wasn’t a single part of him that felt that way about you. He loved every bit of you—the woman you showed him when you were awake, kind and thoughtful and determined, and the woman he held close when you were fast asleep, all soft curves and warm skin. Even Sarah seemed to accept you as a natural addition to their family, far more than she ever did with her own mother. That fact carried more weight than you knew, or perhaps you were keenly aware of the way they both felt for you and simply chose to accept it in stride. Either way, it was endearing.

He was just about to wake you up to thank you for existing here with him—with them—in the best way he knew how when a series of hurried knocks sounded on his front door. He’d saw the headlights of your father’s SUV pull into the driveway next door, and given your absence at home, he had no doubt that he would’ve strolled over, worried as all hell.

Joel gently coaxed you awake with a thumb brushing over your face, feeling a bit irritated that he had to interrupt your peace. Especially given the circumstance.

“Your dad’s at the door, baby,” he said, his voice gentle but urging. You bolted upright at the news, rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes as you scanned the room. “Go upstairs and I’ll send him back home.”

You muttered a sleepy okay, grabbed your clothes from the floor, and hurried upstairs to his bedroom while Joel threw on his own clothes and tried to look half-presentable. As if he hadn’t just spent the afternoon inside you.

When things looked to be back in order, he finally marched to the door and opened it, revealing your disheveled looking father. “Hey, everything alright?”

“Have you seen my daughter?” he asked, breezing past Joel and into the half-lit living room.

“No,” Joel lied, rubbing the back of his neck as he spotted your underwear halfway beneath the couch that you must’ve missed when fumbling for your clothes in the dark. “You wanna grab a couple beers and tell me what’s got you so riled up?”

Your father headed into the kitchen with a soft grunt, allowing Joel the opportunity to stuff your panties in his back pocket before taking a seat on the sofa. When he returned, he let out a sigh and settled into the recliner, combing a hand over his face.

“She isn’t home,” he said, pausing to take a sip of his beer. “She usually sends me a text when she’s gonna be out late.”

“She probably just forgot,” Joel said, his knee bouncing with anxiety. Lying had never come easy to him, but if there was any time to learn, it was now. “You tried textin’ her?”

“Yeah, nothin’,” he said, shaking his head. “I feel like she’s hiding something from me. A boyfriend, maybe. I’ve kept quiet about it, but I’ve heard her sneakin’ out in the dead of night. Her car always stays here, though, so she must be gettin’ picked up.” He fixed his attention on Joel. “You seen anything?”

Joel was quick to shake his head. A bit too quick. “No, I’m in bed early these days.”

“Well, keep an eye out if you can,” he said, ticking his jaw. “I’d like to know what she’s been up to. Makes no sense for her to hide things from me, but then again, it’s been a long time since we’ve been under the same roof like this.”

“She’s probably just settlin’ in, figurin’ things out,” Joel said, his fingers scratching at the label on his bottle. “No need to go and get yourself worked up over nothin’.”

“Yeah,” he agreed with a sigh, downing the last of his beer. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then. Let me know if you hear anything.”

Joel stood to walk him to the door, only to watch as your father’s eyes landed on a familiar looking phone case laid face down on the coffee table.

“That’s her phone,” he said, his eyes narrowing at the object before lifting to Joel’s. “What’s her phone doin’ here?”

Joel struggled to make up a lie, his lips parting and closing over and over. “I, uh…”

“Joel,” he said, his tone harsher than before. “What’s my daughter’s phone doing here?”

Your father stepped closer, squaring his shoulders as he sized up his newfound enemy.

“I’m gonna give you two seconds to explain yourself before I go upstairs and take a look myself,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Listen—“

“Nope.” He shook his head, scoffing in anger as he turned to move towards the staircase. Joel rushed to block his path, setting a firm hand on his chest. “I suggest you move, Miller.”

“I suggest you don’t tell me what to do in my own house,” Joel said, his protective streak outweighing his anxiety. “You can either sit there and listen, or you can get the hell out. Either way, you ain’t goin’ upstairs.”

“You gonna stop me?” Your father stepped forward, daring Joel to make a move. He had half a mind to shove him back a step, but the sound of his bedroom door opening talked some much needed sense into him.

“Dad, stop,” you pleaded, the sound breaking Joel’s heart. “I’ll be home in a second. We can talk about this in private.”

“There’s no way in hell this is happening,” he scoffed, shaking his head as he turned to pace the living room. “You’re sneakin’ around with my daughter? And lyin’ to my face about it? For what, some hookup? Some sick fantasy of yours?”

“Dad!” You pushed past Joel to stand in front of him protectively. “It’s not a hookup or anything like that. Joel and I are together. We’re serious about each other.”

“He’s a decade older than you!” he shouted back, causing Joel to take the lead.

“She’s a grown woman,” Joel said. “Goddamn near twenty-five. You don’t think she’s old enough to make her own decisions yet?”

“She wasn’t twenty-five when you met her,” he returned.

“And I didn’t act on anything all that time,” Joel said.

“How long has this been goin’ on?” Your father turned to you, and Joel fought the urge to tell him to wipe the murderous look off his face.

“A month or so,” you said, meek and timid. “We were going to tell you.”

“Bullshit,” he spat. “Joel was just sitting there lying to my face about you just needing time to settle in. All the while, he’s been the one you’ve been sneaking off with.”

“We were waiting until we knew what was happening—“

“Well that went to shit, didn’t it?” he said, shaking his head. “You know what? You wanna sneak around and lie to me, you wanna play house with him, then you can stay here. I’m not having a liar sleep under my roof.”

“Dad!”

“No!” he shouted. “You didn’t care how this would hurt me before, you don’t get to cry about it now. I’m goin’ out. You’ve got an hour to get your shit and leave my house. And you—“ He turned his attention to Joel. “You’re never going to be welcomed under my roof again. You’re dead to me. I don’t want to see your face again, you hear me?”

Joel didn’t reply, simply clenching his jaw as he reached a hand out to welcome you into his side, your tears staining his t-shirt as you buried your face in his neck.

“Fuckin’ sick,” your father said, stomping his way to the door and slamming it shut behind him.

In the tense silence that followed, Joel wanted nothing more than to go over and teach your father a lesson on how not to speak to you, but he was too preoccupied with holding you as you shook with tears.

“Baby,” he cooed, hugging you tight. “I’m so sorry. So fuckin’ sorry.”

“He was so…mean,” you sobbed, hugging him tight. “He’s never spoken to me like that. Like I wasn’t his daughter.”

“I know,” he murmured, smoothing his hand over your back. “I hate him for makin’ you cry like this.”

“I can’t believe…can’t believe this is real,” you said, peering up to look at him with red-rimmed eyes. “I was so happy just a few minutes ago.”

Joel cradled your face in his hands and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “It’ll be alright. He’ll come around, and if he doesn’t…well, he can go fuck himself.”

You nodded, though no part of him thought you believed what he’d said. No, you’d be torn up over this for days. Weeks, even. But through it all, he’d be there.

“Come on,” he said, holding your hand. “Let’s go get your things, and then we’ll come back, have a drink, and watch one of those romance movies you love so much until it hurts a little bit less, alright?”

You managed a soft, but broken smile and nodded. “Thank you for sticking up for me and being here. It’s more than most men would’ve done in your situation.”

“I love you,” he said, squeezing your hand. “That means I’m gonna always be here to stick up for you, alright? I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller story #joel miller series #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #the alchemy

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qwimblenorrisstan · 4 months ago

Text

Insufficient Pt. 2 | Azriel x Reader

Summary: Following the disastrous breakup between you and Azriel, Nesta invites you out to a night at Rita’s, where you then discover that you might not be as safe in Night Court as you think.

Word Count: ~ 4.3k

Warnings: Stalkings, nasty public bathrooms, alcohol, drunk people, obsessive behavior, painfully bad description of blackjack, etc

A/N: ok so I kinda switched gears with this one, I’m trying to flesh it out before introducing another man, but lmk if you liked it, or if you have any opinion on where you’d like it to go, hope you enjoy <3

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Only a week had passed since the disastrous breakup between you and Azriel, and as it turns out, it was harder to get rid of him than you’d originally thought.

Beforehand, he’d always seemed so controlled and stoic, that even being one of the main problems in your relationship was that he couldn’t ever let go of control. Being in charge meant he felt safe and secure, regardless of his feelings.

He had always seemed almost above you at times, above groveling and begging in bed, above communicating his feelings and emotions normally as he just expected you to read his mind or moods despite the way he hid any kernel of emotion from his body language. However, all of that seemed to have changed.

After the breakup, you’d gone back to working in the bakery, working specifically in the back making bread with your family, so you wouldn’t have to see him when he came in, probably trying to hunt you down. The heat the ovens gave off also seemed to repel his shadows, for whatever reason, so they wouldn’t spy on you any more than they already had. Though he had come asking for you before at the counter, your family had always shut him down. You felt bad about it for a second, but thinking back, you also didn’t. He’d chosen his words, and he was only sorry because you were his mate.

You’d moved back into the family home for now, your relatives surrounding you in love and empathy, and plenty of righteous fury regarding Azriel, and even a few “I told you so.”’s from the older generations.

Nesta would come by to visit now and then, having tea with you and updating you on all the latest news and developments, if not just funny stories to bring your spirits up, such as Nyx swallowing an ancient coin that he got from Rhys’ desk, only to poop it out shiny and clean a few days later, or how Cassian got so drunk he jumped from the top of the townhouse into a nearby pool that belonged to a neighbor.

On the bad days, she would offer some quiet company, or even open up to you about similar things that happened to her in the past.

Specifically, her past relationship.

She didn’t give a name, simply the details that he was a poor man’s family, his father abused his mother, and he was no better. She only was going to marry him to let Feyre take better care of Elain, really, even if it ended up with her getting beaten by some pathetic man. And then she told you of the night she rejected him, and tried to break it off, and how she almost barely got away before he could take what wasn’t his.

You both sat in silence after that, your hand in hers.

Eventually, though, the conversation continued. You told her of the flowers that would mysteriously appear on your windowsill each morning. Neither of you knew how Azriel knew what room you occupied in your family’s home, or even how he knew your address or favorite type of flower, Ditch Lily’s, but he knew. Or the letters you received nightly, always carried by some bird of prey to your window, and would leave it there.

She snorted when you told her about the letters.

“He’s being ridiculous, seriously, even Cassian isn’t that bad. He only cares because you’re his mate, not because of who you actually are, and until he gets his shit together I wouldn’t even open them.”

She said, taking a sip of the herbal tea your mother had prepared for both of you. It was a special recipe, one that some of your distant relatives in Autumn Court had created, originally meant to relieve muscle tension and stress from overuse of magic, and even assist in alleviating burnout. You were mildly convinced that there might be some healer blood in you, because of that half of the family.

You could’ve sworn you felt a tiny tug on the bond at the mention of Azriel.

“I know, I’ve just been burning them, but he won’t leave me alone. Every shadow feels like they’re watching me now, and I just…”

You sighed, trailing off as your hand went to rub the bridge of your nose, and she gave a hum of acknowledgment, finishing your sentence for you.

“Don’t feel safe in the one place that you used to only feel safe in?”

You glanced up, eyes widening a bit. That was precisely how you felt.

“Yes, how..?”

She took another sip of her tea, glancing over to the window and looking out of it, eyes almost glazing over as some memory must’ve come to light.

“Beneath the House of Wind is the library, though I’m sure you’ve already heard of it. The priestesses stayed there, and it was always quiet, and something about it made me feel…safe, even when I was in an unfamiliar body in new surroundings, the world in the middle of a war.”

She said, and you nodded, waiting for her to go on. You knew plenty of the library beneath the House of Wind and how massive it was.

“One night, me and Feyre both descended nearly to the bottom, for what I can barely remember, and there were two twin males. Sent by Hybern, I think. They were taken out before they could do any harm, but the damage was still done. It took me quite a while to think of the library as a safe space after that.”

The glaze in her eyes faded away as she took another sip of her tea, looking more relaxed than before. She looked over at you, her eyes meeting yours.

“How did you get it back like that? A safe place, I mean.”

You then asked, and she looked away for a moment to think, a common habit of hers. One you’d noticed by now. Always noticing things, something you must’ve learned from Azriel, and as much as you hated the reminder of him, it was useful regardless.

“Changing environments helped me. During and after the war, we were always traveling a lot, which forced me to appreciate the thought of home more. Then again, home was also linked with Cassian for me.”

She said, thinking aloud before eventually speaking again.

“I’d try moving around a bit. Exercise helped me, especially travel and hiking, or breathing exercises. I could teach you a few if you’d like?”

She offered. You would be a fool to refuse any sort of advice or help from Nesta Archeron, and she’d never led you astray before, so you nodded, and she smiled brightly, clearly happy to show you.

The next few hours were spent in the backyard on whatever flat surface there was, practicing impossibly stretched that seemed like whoever made them wanted to turn you into a pretzel. Nesta managed them just fine but didn’t laugh when you fell, only helped you back up, telling you all about how when she’d first started training with Cassian, it had been just as hard for her too.

She’d even outright refused to do it the first few times.

However, after that, she showed you cool-down exercises and helped you practice breathing techniques.

“Wait, so…I hold it for how long?”

You asked, and she held back a giggle at the sheer confusion in your tone as she answered.

“Twenty seconds, but you can-“

“TWENTY??”

At that, she burst out laughing, and before you knew it you were laughing too, both of you laying back on the grass of the yard and hoping none of the seasonal bugs crawled up onto you. She finally sat up a moment later, wiping tears from her eyes as she stood and helped you up.

“Build up from five, you can start at five seconds and build up, is what I was going to say.”

She said, and you sighed.

“And I thought I was in shape before.”

You said in an amused tone, and she snorted again, only for the both of you to look over where you heard another loud snort and see Cassian standing, leaning against a large tree in the backyard. He was grinning widely as ever, his eyes full of pure glee.

“Having fun without me, ladies?”

He asked, putting a hand over his heart in a dramatic expression as he rolled his eyes, acting fatally wounded.

“Honestly, I’m hurt-“

He wasn’t able to finish his sentence before you barreled into him, giving him a tight hug that he chuckled at and returned, ruffling your hair. Nesta was soon to follow, and hugging him in a much more elegant manner than you.

When you finally separated, you spoke.

“Gods, I’ve missed you. We should let him come to tea time, too, Nesta.”

You said with a grin, and Nesta rolled her eyes playfully, squeezing his bicep. A tiny twinge of jealousy seemed to echo down the bond, as if Azriel had seen you hugging Cassian, and didn’t appreciate it. Another tug on the bond that you shut out, now hyper aware of any shadows.

“You’d be surprised at how much of a gossip he is, it’s never-ending with the Devlon-rumors.”

She said, and his expression shifted to playfully offended as he swatted at Nesta’s hand. You giggled, and Nesta glanced over at you, before gaining a thoughtful expression.

“We could do Rita’s tonight if you could make it?”

She asked, and Cassian gave a little nod as if also agreeing with this. You didn’t have any plans tonight, so why not spend a night out with your friends? It would certainly help you get your mind off of things.

“Sure, what time?”

You asked, head cocked slightly to the side. Nesta shrugged.

“Is 6 good for you?”

She asked, and you nodded in confirmation. She gave you one last smile before Cassian scooped her up to fly away.

“See you tonig-“

Her words were cut off with a little shriek as Cassian launched into the air at maximum speed just to spook her like he always did, and you giggled to yourself, heading back inside the family home. Unbeknownst to you, a shadowy figure lurked behind that tree after Cassian left, watching.

To be fair, the shifts were switched out now and then so everyone had a break, but he usually ended up babysitting. Despite his objections and complaints, he was good at it, sort of a baby-whisperer.

“Who was that pretty lady?”

He asked, a slight touch of color on his cheeks as you smirked with a knowing look.

“That was my friend, Nesta. She’s taken.”

You clarified for him, noticing the way his face fell in disappointment all too clearly before you patted your baby cousin on the head, and walked up to your temporary room. Maybe Nesta’s idea of traveling a bit and exploring different places was good. You had all of immortality ahead of you, after all. Might as well use it well.

You walked to your room, before going to the bathroom attached to it. You were more than lucky to get a room with a bathroom attached, and you knew it, since everyone bickered over who got to shower first and who had been in there too long for the normal bathroom in the hall. Stripping your clothes off, you turned the water on, letting it settle to a warm, but refreshing temperature.

You went through your entire hair routine and washed your body off, shaving and everything. Tonight was an everything shower. You wanted to look your best at Rita’s tonight, and you desperately needed a confidence boost after what Azriel had said to you.

Nearly half an hour later, your hair done all pretty, makeup on, and a pretty red dress gracing your form. You’d even painted your nails yourself, forgoing the usual stylist you went to for it.

By the time 6 had rolled around, you were almost to Rita’s, walking down the bustling streets of Velaris as the cool air blew by, the sun already beginning to set as early as it did in this season.

The moment you walked into the bar, already full of people, it only took a few seconds to spot Nesta and Cassian inside. Cassian was drinking and laughing his ass off with some other males, and doing arm wrestling that he never seemed to lose at, and Nesta was playing poker, and by the looks of it had already won a few games before based on the sly smile she wore.

You walked over and ordered your drink, nothing too strong, and decided that you could take a little time away from Nesta for now. You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, considering she’d been listening to all of your problems every time she’d come over. It was probably best if you gave her a little alone time for herself.

Walking over to a table to try your hand at what looked like a boring game of blackjack, you were about to sit down when something captured your attention.

A lone shadow lurking beneath your feet.

You swallow, getting a weird feeling about it, but you simply stomped one foot down on it before sitting down, determined not to let something so small ruin this night for you. The cards were dealt, and you received a queen of spades and eight of clubs, and as the game progressed, you took risks, choosing to hit, and somehow miraculously not going over 21 the entire time. You felt the lightest tug on the bond, but ignored it.

It was mildly suspicious, considering how bad you usually were at cards. That was until you spied the same wispy shadow from earlier on the deck of cards, hiding in the normal shadow of it. It was discreetly moving cards, changing them for you to win.

Now incredibly annoyed, you excused yourself from the game and walked to the bathroom. Rita’s bathrooms weren’t extremely clean, but you just needed a place to take a breather.

You pushed the door open, not surprised by the few females in here who were either redoing their makeup or drunk out of their minds and crying. Oddly enough, though, they filed out almost as soon as you entered, some giving you off looks as you entered one of the stalls, sliding the lock closed, and sat on top of the toilet seat, pulling your knees to your chest.

Sure, things were weird tonight, but it was probably just Azriel trying to play mind games with you. He was a Spymaster. His entire job revolves around torturing information out of people and playing mental gymnastics to get what he wants from them. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was now hyper-fixated on you, determined to get you back if only to feel better about himself.

You heard the bathroom door open, barely creaking as the lightest footsteps became apparent to you. Probably another drunk woman, or someone looking to fix their makeup or outfit. Nothing out of the usual, you told yourself, even as your body began stiffening and your heart rate sped up. A lock clicked. The bathroom door.

You couldn’t get a decent whiff of the stranger, whether it be the alcohol or the reek of the bathroom in and of itself. Not daring to open up the stall or peek out, you became still as a statue.

Nearly silent footsteps.

A knob creaked, probably the sink, and water began running at its maximum speed.

Another sink turned on.

Then another.

Until all the sinks were on.

Your heart began beating faster. Why would anyone turn all the sinks on, if not to cover up the noise of something else, or someone else making loud noises?

Louder, bolder footsteps in your stall’s direction.

Glancing down beneath the door, you could see a pair of thick, black leathery boots now standing in front of it. You recognized those. How could you not?

A certain shadowsinger’s shoes. His work shoes.

You didn’t dare move, even as you heard a knock against the stall. It would’ve seemed polite in any other situation, but not here, not now.

“I know you’re in there.”

His quiet voice spoke, still filled with that tension you’d seen in his eyes the day you’d decided to finally break free of him.

He knocked again.

“I’m sorry for what I said, I shouldn’t have said that, if you would please, please, just give me another chance, I’ve been trying to talk with you for days but you were busy, and when I saw you here tonight, I thought that maybe we could talk this out-“

He said, voice filled with pleading and desperation as he rambled on. You’d never heard him express so much emotion before in his voice. It was interrupted by the bathroom door almost being opened, despite it being locked. A bang on the door, and Nesta’s muffled voice was heard through the door.

“Bullshit, I’m getting a worker..”

Azriel must’ve known he had limited time now, because he banged on the stall door louder, a bit more panicked.

“Please, just open the door. I’m sorry, just let me in. We can figure this out.”

He said, now shaking the stall door with the handle, and you didn’t dare move. Didn’t speak, didn’t do anything other than sit and pray to whatever gods you believed in. The Mother. The Cauldron. Anything. Whatever would make him go away. You had known the respectful, kind Azriel. The one that had waited centuries for Mor and not pushed anything, even when she openly went to other males and pushed him away. The one who wouldn’t push any boundary, but this Azriel…you didn’t know him.

The jingling of keys outside the bathroom door was heard, the worker Nesta must’ve called, and a frustrated sigh came from the voice outside your stall.

You could almost see it now, him angrily running his hands through his inky black hair, shadows swirling and writhing in agitation as he tried to think on how to fix this.

“You can’t hide from me forever, you’re just confused right now. I will get you back.”

He spoke finally, before the bathroom door burst open, and his presence was completely gone. You released a shaky breath, not daring to move still, even as the worker cursed and began turning all the sinks off.

“Haven’t seen it that jammed in a long time,”

She muttered, walking out eventually, you unlocked the stall door when you felt alone, only to swing it open and Nesta to pop into your vision. You almost screamed, jolting backward and slamming your head into a wall. She raised her hands in mock innocence.

“Easy, it’s just me. I figured you might be in here when I couldn’t find you, and…..”

She looked you up and down, noticing how shaken and pale you seemed, and frowned. Tilting her head sideways, she asked the obvious.

“What’s wrong with you?”

You looked all around the bathroom, finding no sign of him anywhere, no moving shadows or dark presences.

“He was here, Nesta. He kept begging me to come out and—I don’t know what he would’ve done if you hadn’t shown up.”

You said, tears welling up before falling as you began sobbing. She frowned deeper, now scowling as she pulled you against her chest, worry filling her expression.

“It’s alright, I’ll take you home.”

She said, helping walk you out of the bathroom, and as she passed by Cassian she grabbed the big Illyrian by the ear and dragged him out of the bar, outside with fresh air. Cassian immediately looked concerned, brows furrowed, but one look from Nesta was enough for him to nod grimly as his expression darkened, the two of them no doubt communicating mentally as most mates did.

He scooped the both of you up, and despite the alcohol in his system, managed a decent flight to your house. He gave you a pat on the head before Nesta walked you inside, and as soon as the two of you were in the privacy of your room, she spoke.

“Look, I’ll tell Rhys to keep an eye on him, but it’s not like Azriel will listen to anything Rhys orders him to do regarding…this. Just…be careful.”

She said in a hushed tone, and you nodded weakly.

“I can’t stay here. Not when he’s..watching and following me.”

Nesta gave a little nod, as she understood, but she still looked concerned. She was friends with Azriel, you knew as much, but even this was pushing it.

“I have family in Autumn, I could go find them.”

You suggested, and she sighed.

“You do realize he could just have one of his shadows follow you? Unless you left without telling anyone, then…”

The both of you shared a glance, and in a moment, understood what you needed to do to get away. A stalker problem wasn’t one that you thought you would have, but Azriel was obsessive and possessive, even after you’d thrown out all the flowers he’d left, and burnt all the letters you’d given him. He wouldn’t stop at anything, no matter what boundaries you tried to set.

You dragged the duffel bag out from under your bed, the same one you had used to pack your things the day you’d left and began shoving clothes into it, clothes that would suit a few days of travel in the wilderness. You nearly tore your dress off, shoving dark clothing that covered almost every bit of your skin.

If you headed through the main routes of the Court traveling system, Azriel could easily find you. The mating bond would only make it easier from there.

Nesta began helping, choosing clothes from your closet that she deemed acceptable and neatly arranging everything in the duffel bag.

“Are you going to tell your family?”

She asked quietly, and you sighed.

“My grandmother, she’d understand. She fled Autumn when she was younger, some long story about escaping a lover from the royal family.”

You said as you continued packing, and hurried down the stairs. Everyone was asleep this late, except for your grandmother for her nightly tea session. She was sitting in the living room, sipping away, and her eyes shifted to you. Despite her young form, her eyes were old and carried a wisdom you couldn’t explain.

“Grandma, I can’t explain, but-“

“You need to leave, I understand. Under the stairs, there is food. I expected this. Find your great aunt in Autumn.”

That made you pause for a moment, eyes widening, a little twinkle in her eye, and a small mischievous smirk made its way onto her face as she saw your confusion.

“I am not nearly as oblivious as you think I am, now go. Time is of the essence.”

She said, making a little waving motion, and you hurried off to find the little place under the stairs, opening the tiny area beneath it through the small cabinet door, rations were stashed there just like she’d said. You grabbed them, and hurried back up the stairs, and walking into your room you shoved it into the now-full duffle bag and zipped it up. Nesta gave you a confused look when she saw all the pre-prepared food you somehow had, but you only shrugged and she moved on.

“You’re going to need a way to travel, it’ll be thousands of miles to Autumn.”

She said, and you sighed, looping your arm through the handles of the duffle bag and throwing it over your shoulder as you hurried down the steps again, trying to be quiet for the sake of your sleeping family.

Nesta followed you out of the front door as you shut it, Cassian still standing outside, quietly watching with that same grim look on his face as you hopped your neighbor's fence, running across the mass of property they had in the backyard, straight to the small horse stables they had. You went in and opened the first one you could find, a dark-colored mare with a splotchy white stripe down her face, and some white near her hooves.

Pulling the winter coat off of her the gentlest you could, you scrambled to find a bridle that fit the mare as she stomped nervously, and you eventually found one and slipped it on, the horse not seeming eager to get the bit in its mouth, even though you managed to get it in.

Nesta caught up with you and glanced from you to the horse.

“You are crazy.”

She said though she had a slight smirk as she said it. You sighed, grabbing the reins and leading the mare outside of its stall, and you glanced over to Nesta.

“Give me a leg up?”

You asked with a small attempt at a grin, and she sighed, shaking her head in fond exasperation as she held her hands out for you to put your foot in, and you did, and she counted down from three before hoisting you up over the horse.

The large animal did not seem happy about that, either. But despite its protests, and the fact that you were riding it bareback because taking care of a bridle, saddle, stirrups and more was probably more than you could handle, you managed.

“Tell Rhys to ignore anyone complaining of a missing horse for me, will you?”

You said with that weak little half-grin, and she returned it.

“Sure, I can manage that.”

She said in an amused tone.

A moment of silence passed, before she swallowed, and spoke.

“Be careful. Don’t get yourself killed.”

She said, and you nodded, laughing softly.

“I won’t. Once I’m..safe, I’ll figure out a way to let you know. I promise.”

The inky mark of your oath spread around both of your wrists, reminding you of the promise. You didn’t know how you’d tell her without anyone else, or a specific shadowsinger catching wind of where you were, but you would figure it out.

The wind blew by, and you swallowed again.

“Well…I guess this is goodbye.”

“For now.”

She replied, and you nodded.

“For now.”

And with that, she gave a single nod and began walking back over to Cassian, who offered a dip of his head in goodbye. You gently nudged the horse with your foot, gathering up the reigns, and it jolted forward, taking any excuse to run wild after being cooped up in a stall for so long.

It hopped the fence easily, despite how you almost fell off and began bounding off before you adjusted it Southeast, where you would skirt the boundaries of Night Court, and then head to Autumn.

Into Autumn, where freedom loomed, and into Autumn, where the threat of more than just your self-discovery loomed as well.

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#acotar fanfiction #writers on tumblr #acotar fandom #acotar x reader #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #nesta supremacy #nesta archeron #nesta x cassian #nesta acotar #nessian #acotar #fanfic writing #writers #writers block #writer #female writers #cassian acotar

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nyashykyunnie · 4 months ago

Text

˗ˏˋ Jinwoo x Nerd! Fem! Reader: Drabbles ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 037 ✦ ┆・

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Moonstruck ] ¡! ❞

Jinwoo can be what you call a jock . Is he not? 6 feet tall, a finey built body fit for the demanding sport he chose, undeniably attractive to the ladies with his looks that of an idol— You get the point.

But to him, he wouldn't have it any other way. Not that he is narcissistic of course.

It's just... Well,...

This life is way better than what he had to go through when the gates were open. Sure, he hasn't completely sealed the gates away, but this peace is still uncomparable.

As he looks up at the grey skies, he finds himself tearing from the clouds and looking at your distant figure from the bleachers busily jotting down something in your little notebook.

He heard of you from his many friends, or should he remain with them with how snarky they are? They often described you in degrading means, openly mocking your appearance, and discussing well... Your interests.

From what he heard, you were quite the eccentric person back then. Almost everyone in this class came from the same elementary school after all. They said you used to be the loudest most obnoxious girl in class, which led you directly into being the figure of mockery for young kids.

It was obvious that history made you into the reclused person that you are today. He never really pays attention to anyone, but Jinwoo somewhat knew of your presence around him— After all, he sat behind you.

Other than that? He never knew anything else about you.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Jinwoo sighs as he packs up his notebook after the subject has ended. He was feeling deathly bored despite the fact that he needs to think about the research project that the previous teacher had assigned.

"..." He feels two gentle taps on his shoulder.

"U-uhm..." Jinwoo looks back, looking back at your awkward demeanour. "...Erm... We're assigned together for this project?.."

"Ah right," Jinwoo hums, "Wanna talk about it now? It's a free period after all"

"Sure..." You fidget in your fingers, actively avoiding Jinwoo's eyes that he found intriguing but didn't point out.

"The teacher wants us to discuss something about geology something" Jinwoo says boredly. "Any ideas?"

"..."

He watches you shrink to yourself and he clears his throat.

I must have come off as cold, he thought.

"I'm fine with anything," He said. "I'm not too good with these stuff so..."

"Twilight..." Jinwoo hears your small voice.

"Pardon?"

"We can do... The twilight zone." You say.

"???" Jinwoo tilts his head. "What's that?"

"...!" He watches you perk up, a distinctive glimmer in your eyes as you start shaking your fists a little. "I-it's uhm... The twilight zone or the mesopalagic which is underneath the epipelagic and is beneath the ocean surface and erm... Well, it's 1000 meters deep and since it's so deep it's really really dark, the only light you can see are the occasional bioluminescense flickers which is like a small light made by the deepsea creatures. I-it's basically made by a chemical reaction between luciferin and luciferase which are respectively a light-emitting molecule and luciferase is an enzyme. S-since the mesopalagic zone is really dark compared to the epipalagic zone that can still has a bit of light and algae can still have photosynthesis. The mesopalagic zone instead uses chemosynthesis that happens around hydrothermal vents and uhm... Methane seeps. Bacterias on the uhm sea floor, the very very bottom or inside other animals use the energies in err... Energies that are stored in chemical bonds of some stuff. We can use that for our research."

"..." Jinwoo felt like he just died three seconds into your little rant trying to explain what the twilight zone. He can't even recall one or two words from all that talking you did which he in turn felt a little guilty for. "S-sure... Let's go with the mesopela....Thing."

And that was the start of your friendship with Jinwoo.

He didn't really think much of it, the two of you managed to get a perfect score in the research project because of your extensive knowledge of the deep sea.

Jinwoo thought that would be end of his interactions with you, and yet he slowly finds himself looking for your presence. At first, it was just simple goodmornings and hellos whenever you both pass by eachother by the hallways during lunch— To him starting some small talk with you.

It really started so simple, it really did. But slowly, Jinwoo found himself purposely triggering your nerdy side.

At first, it was just him making an excuse to prolong the conversations. But now? He was actively listening to whatever you tell him to. He still had trouble memorizing or processing the many names and chemical, biological stuff you yap on and on about but in the end— He finds himself wanting to know more about it.

He wanted to learn more about you.

The sea really seemed to make you the happiest seeing how you perk up as you start explaining the life cycle of a sperm whale, or how beautiful the cetaceans are in general.

Because of your non-stop obsession with the deep, Jinwoo finds himself listening to whale songs that somehow helped him relax more at night.

He'd always have multiple nightmares whenever he slept, sometimes he dreams of his father's death, most times it's him relieving the agony he had gone through leveling up and the phantom pain of dying multiple times— Despite his age they still haunt him.

And when Jinwoo finds himself in the torturous cycle of death and misery, he hears the distant hum of whales. In his nightmares, he would follow those songs and get pulled out of his hell.

And he swears, that in every nightmare you would be the one to reach your hand out and taking him into paradise. He would wake up with his outstretched palm towards the ceiling, a tear falling down his cheek.

He craved to touch your fingers at that very moment, he wanted to feel the gentle caress of your digits on his face, the warmth of your skin against his, the sound of your tender voice reverberating in his ears as you explained to him all about the things you love.

Jinwoo would never really realize that he himself is growing soft on you. He knows that his friends would never shut up about how gentle he is around you, but he never really believes their words.

What's so wrong about him wanting to bask in you anyway?

He just wants to bask in your presence, drown in the moment just as you are with your love for the ocean.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

"My king" Igris's small head appears, hovering over Jinwoo's shoulder. "The queen, she's"

"Out with it," He says immediately as he had just had just finished changing out of his track suit.

"...She's hyperventilating, a few unruly morons decided to mock her of her unfortunate past and she is unwell," Igris explains. "Your orders, my lo—"

"Shadow Exchange."

Instantly, Jinwoo had transported himself to where you were. He wasn't too worried about you catching him, since you were too distracted pacing back and forth nibbling at the edge of your fingertips.

He shakes his head, knocking on the desk to catch your attention.

To which it did but it startled you.

"A-ah, Jinwoo..." You sputter, not meeting his grey eyes again as you fumble on yourself. "I... Didn't see you there."

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you" Jinwoo smiles gently, "Wanna go somewhere cool for a bit?"

"But... We're in school?" You tilts your head, watching him offer up a hand, waiting for you to accept his offer.

"It's okay, just trust me in this" He said.

You were hesitant at first, but eventually, you place your palm on Jinwoo's. He pulls you a bit close, his towering figure in front of you. But somehow, you felt completely safe as long as he is here.

The ground beneath you both would shift, from the pristine while tiles of your school to blue water reflecting your images. You throw your head up above your head, and up in the sky you could see fluffy and full white clouds moving ever so slowly.

"H-how?" You asked, baffled, your knees trembling as you feared that you will fall into water since you don't know how to swim.

"It's okay, it's okay" Jinwoo cooes, gently lifting your chin up. "Look at me. Look at me."

His grey eyes were so gentle, full of tenderness as it gazes upon you.

"Don't be scared," Jinwoo smiles, "It's all mine, so there's nothing to be scared of"

He then brings another hand out and flicks his finger, where the lovely sound of whale songs would catch your attention.

Your gaze would befall to your right, where a giant and majestic humpback blue whale would gracefully swim on the air.

More would appear around the both of you, from giant cetaceans to different species of jellyfish as well as sharks would fill the sky— All of them swimming about.

You find yourself so utterly mesmerized, your heart almost drumming out of your chest as you reach your hand up in the air, to which a few fish would come to your direction and nuzzle your fingers.

"It's kissing my fingertips, tickling me..." You say, your gleaming eyes looking at Jinwoo who was just watching you the whole time.

In his mind, Jinwoo would recall the conversations he has with his friends. They would never shut up about how he cant stop himself from hovering around you. How Jinwoo can't stop himself from ghosting his fingers around you. How his eyes cant hide away the adoration in them whenever you are in his sight. It was like he's this lovesick puppy.

And they're right.

He is utterly and completely devoted to you. He wants to give you everything that he has in his person, he wants to give you his paradise. If he can, he would rip his heart out and offer it to you.

He wanted to give you the world.

Everytime he listens to your ramblings, he finds himself lost in your presence. It was as if you yourself was his very own version of a lullaby.

And he wanted nothing more than to protect and love you.

"It's okay," Jinwoo says, intertwining his fingers with yours before bringing the back of your hand up to his lips— Where he would lightly kiss your knuckles. "Everything here, so long as I'm around you— You'll be safe and sound."

"Nothing and no one can ever hurt you, alright? So please, just keep talking like you always did, I like hearing about your love of the ocean. I want to see the prettier things of this world, so won't you tell me more?"

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

That was the day that Jinwoo became your boyfriend. Days spend with him are full of love and adoration... Minus the little anxiety you have in your heart as a lot of kids in your grade would disappear. The only similarity with them was that they all used to be your past bullies that you would tell Jinwoo and people who would mock you behind your back. But since you have Jinwoo, you'll be alright. The police will be in charge of that. That is,... If they are even smart enough to figure out who this little serial killer is.

꒰ 🪼A/N: I swear I will make the Jinwoo vs Sylus soon as well as the sequel to the Assassin au. But as of now I'm still stuck in writer's block with those and I am still figuring out what to do with everything else. ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ — All stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

#sung jinwoo #solo leveling #sung jin woo #only i level up #solo leveling headcanons #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo x you #sung jin woo x reader #sung jinwoo headcanons #sung jin woo headcanons #sung jinwoo x reader fluff #solo leveling x reader #solo leveling fanfic #ore dake level up na ken #‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆— kyunnie's writings

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stackslip · 9 days ago

Note

I wanna ask what’s going on with arcane but I feel like I’m opening pandora’s box 😅

the thing about arcane s1's writing, is that every plot beat flowed naturally from characters' choices, and every one of the characters' choices made sense in the context of who that character was, where they came from and what information they are working with at the time they make that decision. it felt like a tightly written tragedy where on a rewatch, it all feels completely inevitable that things would end this way because it made sense to who we learned these characters were. and said characters were layered, much time was devoted to giving them a certain degree of depth and believability (bar cait). you can criticize other aspects of s1's writing such as liberal wishwashiness but s1 of arcane was a *good* tragedy with a genuinely compelling cast! the final scene of the show is a confrontation between three major players who were all working with different information and whose motivations are completely at odds but who have a deeply personal tie, it's about jinx as the end result of the zaun-piltover conflict, it's about vi and silco being two deeply broken people who see her in an idealized version they deeply love and want her to remain this static thing they can be comfortable with until it turns out she can't be and she shatters and at the same time irreversably destroys her relationship to both, leading her in her despair to set off the ticking time bomb that is piltover and zaun's inevitable conflict!

so like, s1 has its flaws but its finale imo was perfect and made the whole thing self contained. i was ok with s2 happening. the only thing i wanted was more the dynamic character writing. i expected wishy washy politcs. and act 1 of s2 already struggled with character, but at least the plot beats were interesting and while not earned, made sense according to the characters we'd left in s1.

s2 act 2 is an absolute catastrophe, even compared to the previous act, nevermind compared to s1. it's not just that the plot beats don't feel earned, it's not just that it's missing connective tissue between them--it's that all the most interesting conflicts and dynamics just cease to exist. they don't get "resolved", they either are completely forgotten or are just waved away magically to pave the way for an utterly stupid, shlocky, wannabe shock value emotional final ten minutes of episode 6 that is honestly infuriating in how it's trying to push you to have feelings about it. i don't have any feelings besides revulsion and bafflement frankly. even before these final ten minutes of ep 6, the sheer lack of buildup or of character moments, the way characters are basically willed by the plot to be there at specific points for plot to happen to them instead of them arriving at it naturally--the way it reframes interesting aspects of s1 and s2 act 1 into shlocky, tropey bullshit--it's honestly near mesmerizing? it's like they brought in whole different new writers specifically for this who decided to back down on ANYTHING the show did that was interesting to try to instead push to the league's status quo instead, no matter how little sense it makes. i'm almost in awe. how do you mess up so badly.

this isn't just like, the plot is rushed and we need to get there as fast as possible--none of these resolutions make SENSE. jinx and vi's relationship was the core of season one, and suddenly magically jinx shows up at vi's door and vi bitches a little and then they go hunt vander down together and then they all hug because he was their father too <333 isha. i'm supposed to have emotions about isha? she sacrifices herself for.... forwhat? what? why? it's like they knew they had to kill her off to give jinx feelings and do so in the most stupid and absurd way possible, i was laughing hysterically when the music came in. it was so blatantly manipulative and uncalled for. ok i guess! sevika helps jinx and then once she's served her plot purpose she just vanishes! doesn't she wanna meet vander??? ekko's disappearance doesn't both people much i guess even his own firelights. ambessa says a single line about mel disappearing, and can i say i'm kinda infuriated that two out of three of the main black characters are just locked away from the plot and main cast for a large period of time. jayce--i guess they'll give us an explanation as to why but here it's like he just...... shows up angry and "ruins" things and that's it. whatever there was to ruin lmfao sky and viktor's heterosexuality mind palace leading to him being cyborg satan or some shit? cait finally FINALLY gets some personality, something interesting to her, she is openly a reactionary fascist who gassed half the undercity to sniff out jinx, and then she meets vi and within a solid minute is now back to being Nice and helping out jinx. i guess. silco and vander's backstory kind of completely destroys a lot of the stuff that made vander and silco's relationship to vi and jinx interesting and goes for a Family Is 5ever approach i guess.

just. i don't think there's a single thing there that's redeemable or interesting. it's comically bad. vi has no personality or motivation. she just does things. she got an emo trauma amv so that we get that she's sad but it might as well not have happened bc she barely is a character. jinx is a sad manic pixie dream girl. her psychosis is gone or barely there now apparently. sevika is plot and then vanishes when her part is done. ambessa is not a mastermind as act 1 hinted at but the most stupid comical villain alive. mel is--is she just going to come back to do a big plot thing in act 3 and then that's it? ekko the same? we have no idea what jayce is even doing or what or why. piltover and zaun are gonna ally now i guess lol. ok sure why not. why anything. why do anything at all! what's the point!

it's funny bc i was willing to give this season a chance despite act 1 being so rushed bc again, the plot points were interesting and while the characters needed more time fleshed out for their decisions to make sense i COULD see the characters making these choices and it was just a question of missing buildup. here it's like everyone is a zombie of their actual self. there's no point to anything. it's so stupid. it tries hard to play the emotion part but why should i feel any emotion except befuddlement? why are caitvi shippers happy? i'd be insulted. i feel insulted. i heard via a friend that riot had intervened in the writing more and so far i hadn't felt it but now i'm wondering if that's not exactly what happened bc it genuinely feels like the writers were fired right after act 1. what the fuck lol. i don't think i even wanna watch act 3 after this, i feel genuinely insulted that i should be expected to think this is the same show as s1 or that i should feel any kind of positive feelings about it. fuck this show so bad lmfao i'm sticking to s1 and pretending nothing happened after it. maybe grabbing some act 1 plot points for fun and that's it. it's so bad

#arcane #eli talks #arcane critical

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whateversawesome · 7 months ago

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Spy x Family Chapter 97: An Old Love Story

Okay, say it with me: FOIL!

You can see it too, right? Looks like Martha x Henry (Henderson)'s story is a foil of Twilight and Yor's story.

Henderson was in Twilight's place; the smart, lonely young man so focused on his ideals that he was blind about who was in front of him and his very own feelings.

Martha was in Yor's place, the strong and graceful girl too young and inexperienced to know her own heart and that she was in love.

This is exactly what's happening with Twiyor, the main couple of the story, and I think we may get to see one of the possible endings for our beloved Twiyor through Martha and Henderson story.

Now, what do we know about these two 🤔...

We know that Henry Henderson has a daughter and a son-in-law. It was mentioned he writes to them, but there was no mention of his wife. This leads me to believe that:

His wife is no longer alive.

He lives with his wife, so there's no reason for him to write to her.

He is divorced.

So, with this information we still can't know what's the current relationship between Martha and Henry, but we can take a guess 😉

From the way the story is being told, it almost feels like it's a semi-tragic love story, doesn't it? We can almost assume that they didn't end up together...or did they?

Theory one: Yup, everyone is right and Martha and Henderson eventually went their separate ways for reasons we'll probably get to know in the next couple of chapters.

If this theory is right, I think it's beautiful that they are getting a second chance 💖They certainly look more mature, confident, and calm (also elegant!). I love the way they look at each other, so much trust and love 😌

Theory two: I know this one is a long shot (and Henderson just said in that panel that "She is merely and old friend") but maybe...they're actually married. Why am I so bold to even consider that possibility?! Well, there's this panel:

The matron is clearly teasing Master Henderson, don't you agree? If she does it, it's because she knows something. Either she knows that there was something between those two in their youth or she knows they are married. I don't know, but they way she said the word "partner" and the fact that Master Henderson is married made me think that Martha is his wife. I know, I know...it's a remote possibility, but you have to remember that marriage is mentioned a lot through different characters and couples during the story, so maybe those two were actually married. (But, it's quite possible it's theory one).

Other things to consider...

How long have Ostania and Westalis been at war?

My guess is that we're talking about two different wars between the same countries; very much like WWI and WWII, where there was a brief period of peace before a second conflict. So, probably the first war started while Henderson was in his 20s and the second war started when he was in his 40s (and Twilight was a kid).

It makes a lot of sense that now they're in a period of "Cold War", just like in real life.

The Garden

I am convinced that the Garden is involved in this. I've talked about this before (read it here). After this chapter, I still think the Garden is going to pop up. Want some evidence?

Do you recognize this guy?

That's right 😏 That's Matthew McMahon. What is he doing there? Too much of a coincidence, don't you think?

And also the way this is phrased:

Odd that there was a mention of the word Garden, isn't it? And the fact that the whole story between those two takes place in a garden...🤔

In addition to that, in a previous chapter, Twilight observes how Martha moves like a soldier. Franky mentioned earlier that Garden people are like soldiers. And the Garden has a history of recruiting young skilled/strong people, like Yor. Things keep adding up.

The Consequences of War

This is a prevalent theme throughout the whole SxF universe: how war (violence, intolerance, manipulation of information, propaganda, politics) has affected the life of all the characters.

No matter their background, nationality or education, we've seen it again and again with most of the characters big or small, like Twilight, Franky, Sylvia, Millie, and now we're about to see it with characters from an older generation like Martha and Henderson.

My guess is that this won't be the last time and this pattern will continue while the story lasts. I think what the story is trying to show us is how war is seen by some (politicians and men in power like Desmond) as a natural, inevitable course of action, but at the same time how brutal the consequences are in the smallest stories. That's one of the things that is truly remarkable about SxF.

#spy x family #twiyor #sxf #spy x family manga #spy x family analysis #spy x family theory #sxf chapter 97 #spy x family chapter 97 #martha marriott #henry henderson #loid forger #yor forger #spy x family meta

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conflictofthemind · 8 months ago

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Lucas knows about Mike and Will

First off, of course the context is needed that Lucas has known the two of them the longest out of any of the kids. He is Mike’s neighbour and joined their party even before Dustin. He also played wingman for Mike previously in S3, trying to help get Mike and Eleven back together. It’s not a stretch of the imagination that Lucas would end up in a role like that again.

So, the hospital scene at the end of Season 4.

There’s a few things within this scene that are a little suspicious, and then one big thing that basically has no explanation other than Lucas suspecting something is going on with Mike. I brightened the scene here- first let’s just acknowledge they held hands on Lucas’ back. This is the only kind of direct hand touch we get this season.

Lucas can’t see that.. but it’s on his back. Of course he would be able to feel it. It’s also another moment that separates Mike and Will as a pair, versus Eleven on her own. Here’s the full clip below. And then just LOOK at the expression Lucas gives Mike after he sees El lingering behind. Your friend just visited as soon as he possibly could to give you support. Why would you look at them like this after he hugs you? Because he knows there’s something weird going on in the relationship between Mike and El. No other explanation.

Lucas is clearly giving Mike a “what the fuck is going on” kind of expression, eye squinted, eyebrows furrowed. There’s also a blink and you’ll miss it moment where Mike’s breath catches after the contact with Will’s hand, and he makes a split second glance to look at their hands (which I captured in the first image).

Then after Lucas hugs El, he clearly parts and steps back to give room for Mike to join beside his girlfriend. But Mike crosses the room to put himself in between El and Will instead. Another thing Lucas would have found weird. Lucas isn’t dumb.

Then we have the shotlisting post from Ross’ instagram. Shot listing is where they plan out what happens within an episode and what kinds of shots they want. This image is obviously an Easter Egg for fans about who’s interacting with who in the first 2 episodes (ie Stonathan shenanigans of which we already know about). I didn’t see it at first but Lucas is clearly placed in the centre of a triangle between El, Mike, and Will. He’s the centre of the triangle.

This makes sense with what we know about S5 thus far as well. There’s a confirmed plot line that has Dustin trying to isolate himself from the rest of the group (if he hasn’t already been isolated enough from the party in recent seasons). It shows up in the shot list image too of course, with Dustin on the opposite side. For the kids, due to Max being out of commission, the only interactions we are going to get in the first two episodes before the time jump seem to be between El, Will, Mike, and Lucas. We also have confirmation from Millie that El and Lucas will be spending a lot more time together than they had in previous seasons.

Moving onto a bit of cornplating for the last points which just serve as some cherries on top of this theory - we already have imagery of Lucas acting as a bridge between Mike and Will in the party image Ross gave us. This is post time jump most likely because of the new outfits, so it’s interesting that this role could continue throughout the season.

We also have the imagery of Lucas holding a suspiciously coloured blue and yellow shield in Will’s painting of the party. A bit of a stretch, sure. But complied with everything else it is definitely interesting to consider.

Now for the character reasoning, which is always important to consider: why would Lucas end up in this position?

Lucas is going through his girlfriend being in a coma after they had a major distance in their relationship. A coma that Lucas in universe has no clue if she’ll ever wake up from, and realistically (in-universe) hopes are slim that she will recover. And if she does, she may not have all the memories of times spent together still with her. There’s probably so many regrets swirling around his mind of things he could have done or said in the time that they had together. Lucas doesn’t have this luxury - but his friends still do.

Lucas is Mike’s oldest friend outside of Will, and Will/Mike are Lucas’ first friends. They existed as a party even before Dustin.

Out of his pain of ‘losing’ Max and the wisdom he learned from it, I really do think Lucas is going to encourage Mike to seize the day and take control of his life once again. Will and Mike still have the luxury of time and still have chance. If anyone could convince Mike his feelings are reciprocal, it would also be Lucas.

Furthermore, Lucas understands that as a black man in fairly rural 80s Indiana, his relationship with Max is also one that is singled out due to prejudice against interracial couples. Interracial marriage would only have been legalized less than twenty years ago. It’s not quite the same, but again if anyone understood the position Mike would be in (other than say Robin) - it would be Lucas.

#anyway uhhh wheelclair is real and coming home #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #will byers #byler #stranger things

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suzukiblu · 15 days ago

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Day eleven of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. tw: implications of past grooming/abuse and the inherent problems that causes for someone who was in that situation and hasn’t processed it trying to have a relationship with someone actually age-appropriate. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Uh–is it?” he asks, not really sure what else to say. Or more like, not really sure what else to say that would not sound both desperately, desperately horny and desperately, desperately weird.

“I dunno,” Kon replies, giving him a quick, sheepish little smile. “Just makes me feel good, that you think I’m worth, like–taking out and showing off, or whatever. Like–without the S-shield on, even.”

“The S-shield would definitely make date night a lot harder to enjoy, yeah,” Tim says, torn between wanting to kiss him and wanting to dissolve the entire entertainment industry and all of Kon’s previous romantic interests in acid from the ground up. Slowly. Kon blushes again, his smile widening.

“And, uh–and that,” he says, glancing sidelong. “And that you wanna hang out with me without anybody interruptin’.”

I want to hang out with you until I overthrow Gotham AND Metropolis and then I want to install a zeta between them and the biggest beachfront property you’ll let me buy for you and any little Kon 2.0’s you let me make you, Tim’s most insane self thinks and his slightly more rational current self does not say, because he has at least some small and tiny and miniscule scraps of self-control.

Like, barely, and only lasting until the fifteen-year sidekick-to-supervillain plan goes off, but still.

“I definitely don’t want anyone interrupting, no,” he agrees instead, and Kon beams at him again and then ducks in and kisses him again–just a quick little peck, but definitely still a kiss. Tim, belatedly, realizes that Kon might actually be getting more up in his space than he was before the whole . . . script issue happened. Just–standing closer, and leaning in a little more often, and things like that. Not in a demanding way or anything; just like he wants to be there a little more often.

Like maybe he’s a little more comfortable being there, now. Or like maybe he thinks he can do it without anything being–expected from it, maybe.

Tim doesn’t even know if Kon’s doing it on purpose or not, but he’s definitely noticing a difference either way. Just–there is very much a difference there to be noticed.

He is definitely, definitely not going to be able to find out who any of Kon’s exes are before he goes supervillain. That’s just not going to work out for his timeline at all.

Also Bruce would absolutely get upset if he found out about whatever he ended up doing about it, and he’s an emotional support sidekick, not, like, an intern or whatever. He is not here to cause problems, he is here to facilitate Bruce’s mental health, help him manage his paranoia, and minimize the amount of overkill beatings of petty thugs and small-time criminals.

Admittedly Bruce managing his paranoia is not going great, but it’s a process, alright? He’s doing his best here.

“So like, if we do go shopping again, wanna pick something out for me to wear for you next time?” Kon asks, still beaming at him. Tim’s brain attempts to reboot a couple dozen times before he manages to remember how to string a coherent sentence together.

“Yes,” he says in an almost normal-person voice. Maybe. Theoretically. He . . . hopes, anyway. “Uh–yeah. That sounds, uh–like something I would like to do.”

It’s a little harder to focus on the supervillain thoughts with Kon both wearing that expression and actually asking him to buy him something–especially specifically something he wants to wear for him–so that’s helpful for keeping to his timeline. But also, uh–embarrassing, kind of, because usually Tim is better at thinking than he currently is being. Like, his normal thought processes are a lot more involved than Kon’s so hot and Kon’s so CUTE and hurr durr pretty boy.

He definitely still wants to ruin some people’s lives, but first he wants to get Kon dinner and dessert and buy out a boutique or four for him, and just like, a small suburb. Or town. City. Tri-state area.

And also to pick out something for him to wear “next time”, since apparently Kon still wants there to be a next time that he sees Tim Drake and also just like . . . just the whole thing with the picking out something for him to wear thing, because Tim only has so much self-control, alright? He is doing his best here, but he’s only an emotional support sidekick, alright, he’s not made of stone.

Seriously, Kon asked him to dress him and asked him to buy him something. Tim is not actually sure if he’s more thrilled about actually getting Kon to specifically ask him to buy something for him or frazzled over Kon offering to let him pick out something for him to wear. Just–god. Tim is just not even–Tim does not know what he’s feeling right now. Just–whatever it is, he is feeling it.

He wonders if it would be, like, a little too pathetic of him to maybe get Kon another crop top. Or, uh, a little too thirsty of him.

. . . probably, yeah. Probably definitely, in fact.

. . . . . . but like, if Kon sees one he likes, it's not like Tim's gonna say no or–

Anyway.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon #implied past grooming #implied past abuse

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robertpattersonsleftcoochieflap · 23 days ago

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FTM!Wanderer x Reader

Unexpected treats are the best kind of treats~

Wanderer x Reader

Contents: ftm!wanderer, eating out, fingering, wanderers god complex comes out.

Summary: Reader and wanderer are getting frisky but reader realises that something is not quite right and investigates (with their mouth)

Authors note: I've been a trans scara truther since day 1 and cannot handle the lack of content for my boy. Like, damn. Can a bitch not eat any boy pussy around here.

It was often that Wanderer and (Y/n) would meet up like this, now. Whether it be in an old storage closet or an empty office - they'd always end up in the same position. (Y/n) kneeling on the floor between Wanderer's legs, worshipping him in his most intimate places.

They could still remember the first time it happened.

(Y/n) and the famed Wanderer had always had this thing going on between them. They'd bicker constantly. It was almost an unspoken competition on who could annoy the other first.

This time, they were stuck together in the empty academia library. Sticking the new order of books on the shelves. It was late on a Friday, and all the academia students were out for the weekend. Yet the library was anything but silent.

"Will you shut up and do your job, unsightly worm." Wanderer snarked, purposely hitting (Y/n) in the face with his long sleeves as he flew past to place the next stack of books.

(Y/n) snorted.

"Y'know, for someone so short you do have a large temper," (y/n) smirked - they knew the subject of height was touchy for her coworker, "It's truly impressive how you fit all of it in one body... along with your huge ego."

Wanderer flew past again, shoving into them once again.

"It's a wonder how you keep that ugly, fat head of yours on your shoulders." The temperament blue boy sniped back, this time staying next to (Y/n) to stack books on the shelf beside them.

"Wow is that really the best you've got." (Y/n) faced him, crossing their arms over their chest.

Wanderer's perfect lips curled into a scowl.

"I have nothing else to say to pathetic losers like you."

(Y/n)'s face soured, "HEY. Don't. Be. Such. An. Asshole." They poked at Wanderer's chest between every word.

The Wanderer bared his teeth at them, roughly slapping away their hand.

The pair stopped and stared each other down like a pair of feral dogs. The tension was thick.

(Y/n) struck again, poking Wanderer's hard chest with more force.

Wanderer repeated his previous action.

They repeat a few more times, each action getting rougher, until they eventually escalate to shoving each other around the library.

(Y/n) gasped as their back hit the shelve, their chest heaving. Their hands still gripping tightly at the front of her assailants' clothes.

Wanderer glared deeply into (Y/n)'s eyes. The tension thick enough to cut with a claymore.

(Y/n) once again made the first move, roughly pulling the shorter man in and kissing him. The response was immediate. Quickly becoming another battle for dominance between them.

All the months of built-up frustration between them finally being released.

(Y/n) bucked their hips into his. Their tongues and teeth clashing together. Neither of them seemed to care though. Wanderer's delicate hands gripped (Y/n)'s waist, matching the rhythm of their hips.

They continued like this for a while, their hands groping and fondling each other, until finally (Y/n)'s hand trailed down to his crotch.

Their hand fumbled around the front of his pants, feeling around for the expected hardness. Only to realise they couldn't find it. (Y/n)'s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, still not breaking the kiss.

Is he not into it? They stressed in their mind.

Wanderer broke the kiss, his lips moving down (Y/n)'s neck, where he nipped and sucked. The recipient moved their neck, giving him more room for him, moaning at his actions.

(Y/n)'s eyes fluttered at the feeling, their anxiety washing away. He wouldn't be this into it if he didn't want me, right? Maybe his pants are too thick. They resumed fumbling with his pants, their hands unbuttoning them and weaseling in, continuing to rub around.

The man groaned into their neck, humping the hand between his legs. He was not used to this feeling.

(Y/n)'s eyebrows furrowed in concentration, continuing to search his pants for something that was apparently not there.

He's gotta be into it? Maybe he's just small-- Their finger made contact with the wet patch in his underwear. Oh.

OHHH.

It finally clicked.

They knew what they had to do now.

(Y/n)'s free hand came up and pulled the blue haired man away from their neck and resumed their kissing. Carefully navigating him backwards until he hit a desk.

Wanderer grunted at the movement.

(Y/n) pulled their other hand out of his pants and worked on pulling them down. Once his pants were down they moved back to look Wanderer in the eyes. The mans eyes snapped open and his eyebrows furrowed.

"Is this alri-" (Y/n) was cut off.

"Did I say stop, worm." The blue haired brat snarked.

(Y/n) blinked. "I wanted to ask can I-" They were cut off again.

"Yes. Now hurry up." Wanderer gripped the back of (Y/n)'s hair and brought them back into an impatient kiss.

Damn bitch, okay. (Y/n) mentally rolled their eyes at his behaviour. What did they expect. They pull away from his soft lips and start kissing down his neck. Making their way down to the waistline of his breifs.

Wanderer looks down at (Y/n) kneeling between his legs and he swears his nonexistent heart started thumping. He felt like he was being worshipped. Like a god.

(Y/n) stared deeply into Wanderers eyes, their fingers curling into the waistband of his underwear, before pulling them down. Exposing him.

The mans eyes widened in surprise and a ferocious blush bled onto his cheeks. His mechanical pump working overtime to push blood around his body.

"Wh- what the hell are you-" Wanderer was cut off abruptly and gasped.

(Y/n)'s tongue delved deeply into the wet heat between his legs. Groaning loudly at the taste. Their nose buried in the neat tuft of blue hair above his slit.

Wanderer's legs almost give out, causing him to prop hiself onto the table. (Y/n) took the opportunity to hike one of his legs over their shoulder, spreading him wider.

(Y/n) ate him out like it was their last meal, savouring every flick of their tongue. Their hand gripping the leg on their shoulder. Their free hand trailing up and sliding into Wanderers weeping hole.

Wanderer's hand flew up and gripped (Y/n)'s hair, his head falling back. His thighs trembled around their head. He had definitely never felt anything like this before. He felt like his artificial nerves were on fire.

A broken noise came from his throat.

(Y/n) sped their fingers up, curling them and latched onto his clit, suckling on it. The thighs around their head shook violently ans the fingers against their scalp tightened.

Wanderer felt something inside him tighten, then break. He let out an almost primal noise as he gripped (Y/n)'s head with both hands, holding them tighter against him as he rode their face.

(Y/n) let him ride out his orgasm on their face, his juices dripping down their chin and hand. It had a slight buzz to it, tingling on their tongue. It was addictive. They pulled their fingers out of Wanderer and gave him one last lick before standing up and taking his head onto their shoulder.

Wanderer leant his weight onto (Y/n) as he came back to his senses. They stayed like that for a few minutes before he sat back up and stared deeply into (Y/n)'s eyes, a lazy smirk rising on his face.

"Again."

Extra:

"EH?! WHERE DID THIS STORM COME FROM?! HURRY UP AND GET MY KEYS OUT ALHAITHAM MY HAIR IS GONNA BE RUINED!"

Me trying to convince you all that wanderer is trans.

#scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #wanderer x reader #wanderer #frm #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #smut #reader insert #transgender #gender neutral reader #ftm wanderer #ftm

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weasleyreidstyles · 1 year ago

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Serendipity

chapter four

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. All characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): fainting, hospitals, talk of dark magic and curses

series masterlist; previous part; next part

Mattheo guided you to an empty carriage with his palm gently grazing the small of your back. If you were in your right state of mind, you'd shove his hand away. Probably.

But at that moment, he was the only person holding you upright. You had no idea what was wrong with you, what this overwhelming feeling was.

It's just the adrenaline, tesoro. It'll pass. Theo had barely spoken to you since school started, not including the few nights you'd been on patrol with him late at night or in Ancient Runes and Transfiguration. Everytime you interacted with Mattheo he seemed to become agitated, as though it wasn't his idea to have his best friend teach you control.

You sat in the far corner of the carriage silently as they deliberated what to do about the necklace that was floating between you all, and for some reason you felt an odd tingling, cold sensation wash over you as it came closer to you.

"Should we take it to Snape? Or straight to Dumbledore?" Zabini asked as he used his wand to rotate the antique, looking at it with distaste. Theo and Mattheo seemed to debate this as Enzo nodded in agreement immediately.

"No we take it to Madame Pomfrey." Pansy injects. "She's going to need to see what cursed Katie. So she knows how to heal her."

"She could've died." you say quietly into the warmth of your scarf. They all turn to stare at you. "The necklace is famously doused with a death curse. Over a few dozen muggles supposedly died instantly when they touched it with their bare hands. Had she not had her gloves on, she would have died."

They look stricken, as if this had not occurred to them at all. The air in the carriage went frigid, suddenly. And not because of the chill.

"All the more reason to get it to Dumbledore." Zabini insists, but you vehemently disagreed.

"No, Pans is right. Madame Pomfrey needs to see the necklace. I doubt she'll be able to treat Katie here, Hogwarts won't have the necessary resources for this sort of thing."

Zabini seemed to think on this and in the end you all agreed; when you reached the Hospital Wing where Katie Bell was writhing helplessly in a bed, you all but collapsed into Mattheo's awaiting arms.

~∞~

You've discovered that fainting is an odd sensation. One moment you felt fine, fine enough to function normally at least, then the next minute everything is a hazy void of nothing.

You wake up in a bed in the hospital wing, Hermione next to you, reading a muggle novel with a furrowed brow. She jolts up when she sees that you're conscious.

"You're awake. I'll get Madame Pomfrey, hold on." And she's off down the aisle of warded beds, back seconds later with the matron in tow.

Madame Pomfrey fusses over you for a moment, asking you all the generic questions, that you answer only with half-truths, before leaving you alone with Hermione once again when you answered sufficiently enough.

"How do you really feel?" your best friend asked, her face full of worry. "Harry and Ron wanted to be here, Ginny too, but they have Quidditch practice."

"I feel like I got hit over the head with a hammer." you say, your voice rough and hoarse. "What even happened? The last thing I remember is walking into the Hospital Wing."

"Nott said you passed out when you came to hand the necklace in. Riddle got you settled into bed and let Madame Pomfrey do her work. But she hasn't said what is implicitly wrong with you." she explained and you stared up at her incredulously.

"But I only fainted? It's not that serious, is it?" your anxiety spikes and, not intentionally, you blocked out Hermione's voice in order to get some answers.

I hear helped me into bed? I could've sworn you don't have a nice bone in your body, guess I was wrong.

You're awake. He sounds surprised...relieved.

Obviously or I wouldn't be communicating with you right now, would I?

Funny. His voice is filled with mirth at your sarcastic response. How do you feel, sweetheart?

Do you want the lie I told so that I could leave the Hospital Wing quicker, or the real answer?

I'd hope that all the time we've spent in each other's presence would warrant the truth, Meadow.

I feel like shit, Mattheo. I don't even know what caused it, I felt fine when we were in the carriage.

Did you? He doesn't believe you.

I mean– I think so, I– My arm doesn't hurt as much. Do you think that has something to do with it?

Maybe. Is Granger still with you?

Yes, why?

No reason.

Mattheo?

He doesn't give you a response.

Hermione is snapping her fingers in your face and calling your name as if she'd been doing it for a hot minute.

"Are you sure you're alright?" she asks, concern written all over your face.

"You know, I feel a little fatigued, I might try and sleep it off." you feel like the worst person in the world for lying to your best friend, but you want answers, and Mattheo seemed like the only person who would be brutally honest with you.

"Alright. I'll come back tomorrow with the others if you're still here after lessons are over." she smiles at you and guilt eats away at your chest.

"Thank you for staying with me, Mione." She squeezes your hand affectionately before she stands up and leaves you alone.

~∞~

Half an hour later it's not Mattheo who comes to visit like you secretly hoped for (but you were denying this to yourself vehemently). Instead Professor Dumbledore walks into the Wing with his usual grace and grandure.

"Good evening, Miss Meadows." he says cheerily as he stands before you bed. "May I sit?"

Bewildered, you nod your head silently.

"There's no need for the confusion," he says, clearly using Occlimency on you. "I see you have a good grasp on your mind. When did you learn to do this?"

"I like to learn new things." you say, brows furrowing at him as he gets comfortable in the plush seat beside your bed. He hums at your answer, rubbing his chin with the fingers of his good hand.

"I believe you experienced something rather....odd this afternoon." he began, his usually twinkling eyes holding an emotion that you could not place. "Can you describe it to me?"

"Um...I guess it started when we got closer to Katie and Leanne-" you start before cutting yourself off. "Actually, how is she? Katie? What happened to her?"

Dumbledore sighs as he answers.

"She was taken to St. Mungo's for treatment. They have far better equipped staff for dealing with dark curses. Poppy does not do that sort of healing."

"But she'll be okay?" you ask.

"She'll live, miraculously." he says before he focuses on you again. "Now back to you, Miss Meadow."

"Right. We were walking down the lanes, behind them and then I think they had stopped walking while they were arguing and it felt like an eery shift in the air. I don't know how else to describe it but then Katie touched the necklace and went up into the air. When she started screaming that's when Matt– Riddle– that's when Riddle and his friends turned up behind us. Enzo and Blaise went to find Hagrid and Ron, Theo and Riddle helped pull her down. I tried to help but when I touched her, my arm started to burn." you can fell the sting like a phantom now that you think about the pain.

"Interesting." he says as he pulls an old signet ring from his deep robe pocket, holding it out for you to take. "Can you tell me what you feel when you touch this, please?"

You do as he says and take the ring into your hands. Twisting it around your fingers, allowing your magic begins to swirl around it before it burns your fingers. You drop it in an instant. That same cold, tingling feeling you felt when Blaise rotated the necklace washed over you right afterward.

"It's cursed?" you asked, looking up at the Headmaster for confirmation, who is staring at you with knowing, inquisitive eyes.

"Something like that, yes." he says, his decaying hand twitches in response.

"Is that why your hand is like...that?" you ask, motioning to the appendage.

"Yes, rather nasty isn't it?" he says, tucking his hand away from your prying eyes. "I'm not sure what it is cursed by, but that is why I have asked Harry to befriend Professor Slughorn. I believe it has something to do with Lord Voldemort and Horis is the key to everything.

He ignores the way you instinctively flinch at the name. But thats when you notice that the ring that is still on your bed, holds the Riddle insignia. Mattheo's family crest.

"Sir, what's wrong with me?" you croak, as you turn the ring in your hands once again, letting your magic wash over it and dropping it into your lap when it zaps you with another stinging burn.

Professor Dumbledore removes the ring from your possession as he answers carefully.

"You're an incredibly smart witch, Miss Meadows." he states. "Professor Snape tells me of your incredible non-verbal abilities, and am I correct in assuming that you are also talented with wandless magic?"

You flush at this. "Yes sir."

"It is no surpise to me that your magic picks up on things that other witches and wizards may not." he says, tilting his head at you. "I believe you would make a good Unspeakable in the future, my dear. Or perhaps a curse breaker."

"What?" you ask, completely muddled by how cryptic he seemed to become. "Why do you say that? Shouldn't I be worried that I can somehow detect dark magic?"

"On the contrary...I believe it will be the most important skill you learn in this life."

With that note, he stands and with a simple goodbye leaves you lying alone in the bed with a thousand thoughts running through your head.

None of them bringing you any closer to a solid answer to the biggest questions you have:

Why the hell can you sense dark magic? Why did it cause your skin to burn? Why did it cause you to lose your grasp on consciousness?

~∞~

aaand the plot thickens...🤭🤭🤭

this was quite short but there will be more mattheo and meadow moments to come in the next one i promise xxx

comment to be added to the taglist!

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff @babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony @dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf @devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira

#mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #harry potter #albus dumbledore #serendipity series

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54625 · 6 months ago

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What I want out of a QSMP season two.

(Some of these points may be a little divisive - it's just my personal opinion. Content creators will be referred to as players for conciseness. QSMP as it has been for the past year, for the sake of this post, will be referred to as "season 1".)

1. TAKE A FUCKING BREAK.

I do not want to see the QSMP coming back in less than two months at the very, very least. Five or six months to a year is ideal, in my opinion.

This is for a few reasons. Firstly, the obvious; I want Quackity Studios to take the necessary time to make 100% sure that everyone who has worked, does work, or will work for them is compensated. Not just this, but I want the communication among the studio to become streamlined and consistent, for the purpose of maintaining the quality of the SMP, the quality of life of the employees, and entirely avoiding a repeat of the previous situation. Any less will be unacceptable, and prove that all people in charge, including and especially Quackity himself, have not learned their lesson.

Secondly, I am very sure that a lot of players will lack or have completely lost their motivation for the QSMP, due to the nature of the last few months of season 1. I am sure that those who had a lot of lore written up and had to scrap it or cut it short are probably still quite sore about it, and may not have the energy to pick the QSMP story back up. This is especially true if they had already given their characters a canon ending and don't want to overshadow it. When creating a new SMP, or a new season of an SMP, you first and foremost need player motivation to be high. Waiting several months would ensure that the wound of player lore being ruined would have mostly healed over by the start of season 2.

Thirdly, viewer engagement will always be an important thing to take into consideration when creating an SMP that will be televised. The large majority of QSMP fans are completely burned out from watching. Leaving a large gap between seasons 1 and 2 would let fans, who have had an exhausting last few months, recover and reset. It will also allow hype and anticipation to build up when things eventually start being teased and announced again. Fans have a lot of disdain for this project at the present moment, and waiting for a while between seasons will not only let fans know that serious action is being taken behind the scenes, but also will let the sour attitude a lot of fans have right now wear off over time.

2. RESET. FOR REAL THIS TIME.

Probably my most controversial take on this topic will be; I fully believe that if a QSMP season 2 is to occur, it should be a completely new server. By completely new I naturally mean a new map, but also ZERO LORE CONTINUATION. I know this is a hot take, but I personally believe QSMP season 2 is a perfect chance for a completely fresh start, and a fresh start cannot happen if it still takes place in the same universe.

We all know that season 1's lore was overwhelming, slightly confusing, and at the end of the day, completely disjointed. We all fell in love with the terrifying Federation and Codes, yes, we all loved the basis of the story; a group of people from different countries get stranded on a "perfect" paradise island controlled by a governmental body that won't let them leave, and have to work together; but at the end of the day, the lore of season 1 became messy. Very messy. Instead of trying again and again to salvage it, the best option is probably to just start again.

Put the same players in a different map, give them a completely different premise, and let the lore unfold anew. Which leads into my next point.

3. PLAYER DRIVEN LORE.

Let the players develop the story. If a player has an overarching storyline they are unfolding themselves, prioritise letting them do so. All of the best lore in season 1 was player created, and player enacted; Cellbit's regret arc, the happy pills, Cellbit's murdering Fed workers arc, literally everything Fit ever did, Roier's lore, ect ect ect. Server admins should only intervene in player's lore when directly asked, and big changes to the server's status quo should only occur when there is no active lore to be interrupted, everyone agrees it should happen, and it would actively drive engagement up, rather than down.

The best case scenario for a QSMP season 2, in my opinion, is for the server admins and Quackity to come up with an exciting and engaging premise for a brand new universe with brand new characters, to place the players in an interesting themed map, and just let them loose. Let the lore build naturally, and see what comes of it.

IN CONCLUSION.

I vehemently disagree with people who believe the QSMP should not have a season 2. The QSMP is a brilliant idea, and its noble goals shine through all of the incredible friendships and memories it, and only it, made. There is no other server like QSMP.

The act of uniting people from all over the world has been proven to be an extremely important and worthwhile goal. I, genuinely, admire Quackity for his passion in this, and for understanding that this thing should not be easily given up on or let go. Drastic changes need to occur, but the QSMP is bigger than just a Minecraft server; it represents so much unity, community, and love.

It is worth saving.

I hope, desperately and for the sake of everyone involved, past future and present, that the QSMP can come back better and stronger than ever, continuing to further its goals; to tell amazing stories, to forge impossible friendships, to spark joy and laughter, and to bring people together no matter the barriers keeping them apart.

Thank you for reading.

#qsmp #yer man wrote an entire literal essay completely willingly #if only I'd had this energy for my GCSEs

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tan1shere · 4 months ago

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Bite It Lick It Spit It - where'd you put it (extra)

A/n: thought I'd add a lil smth smth since everyone's loving the previous story, enjoy you horny mfs MUAH 💋

Warnings - suggestiveness not really any smut. Still mdni just in case doe <3

The original - masterlist

After that blissed out night, you've been wearing that underwear. All. The. Time. And she loved it, it drove her mental. Whether you were just wearing a plain t-shirt with them around the house. You'd wear them with skirts in public. You were like an intoxicating drug in her eyes, mind and soul. She truly couldn't get enough.

So much so, you found them missing on occasion. Either they were in the wash, or Ms Eilish had them somewhere in her possession. Theyd tend to go missing when you take them off after a long day. Her fucking favorite. Once you eventually caught on it was her doing the abducting, you came to her. Justtt to ask. Even though you had all the idea on why she did.

"Bils." You say going over to her and patting her down. "Frisky much?" She replies. "Where on earth have you put them." She brings her finger up to her lips. " 's a secret." You roll your eyes. "Billieeee." "Fine fine, they're probably in my pants on the sofa in our room." Your eyebrow raises. "Probably?" She shrugs. "Orrr they could be in a few others- I can't remember which." You sigh at the response. "You're crazy." You say heading for the stairs. "For you? Fuck yeah baby!"

It had become a habit that she'd stick them in her Jean pants. She'd take it to work sometimes forgetting where she was, and the fact she still had them in there until Finneas embarrassed the shit out of her. Or more so herself.

"We could maybe do something like this-" He began to speak about the stuff they were working on, when he noticed something on the floor. He knew Clauds underwear and that was something she definitely didn't own. "What on earth." He bends slightly, picking it up. Billies eyes widen, so incredibly wide her eyes might've popped out. Her cheeks go so red, snatching them out of his hand. Fuck, you dumbass idiot. She swallows. There was an awkward silence wondering how he was going to react. When this dude, let's out the wheeziest laugh known to man.

Billies eyes rest, almost glearing at him. "That is not funny, I can't believe that just fucking happened." He tries to control his laughter. "You truly are a dumbass." She swats his arm but he just continues his giggles. "Back to work come on." She spits, having enough of the laughing. "I was like- hmm Claudia doesn't own anything this-" "FINNEAS." She groans. He just laughs some more, she was never living that down. But Billie being Billie she eventually joins in on the laughing, shaking her head at the silly situation.

Yet again you were on the search for them, looking through most of her pants. You gave up in the end, calling her.

"You have them as we speak don't you."

"Well damn, you caught me."

Even during she needed them. Just the fact such a tight slutty thing was on your body for the whole day drove her wild, she didn't care in the slightest how filthy any action may be. Sniffing them, so on and so on. One of her filthy fantasies was you having them in your mouth, as you rode her. Just dangling there between your teeth. You were a tad bit confused at why she requested that, but the way she'd moan under you. The way she'd say your name. The feeling of her fingertips on the skin of your thighs as you rode her. Mixed in with your tits bouncing in her face. It was foul, but she enjoyed every single bit of it.

She was so thankful you went into that shop that day. Blessing not only you with a pretty pair of new underwear. But her aswel, getting the pleasure of witnessing it first hand.

You're welcome

#billie eilish x reader smut #billie eilish x you #billie eilish smut #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish

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writingquestionsanswered · 5 months ago

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Do you have any advice for writing with adhd? I can craft these elaborate storyline in my head, but the minute I try to write any of them down I get bored. (Or is that just regular writer block?) It's really discouraging, because I feel like my mind is moving faster then my head, and any time I try to bring any of my ideas to life it just disipates.

Writing with ADHD: 5 Game Changers for Me

Here are some things that have been game changers for me as a writer with ADHD: [Edit: everyone's ADHD is different. This is just what works for me. It may not work for you...]

Planning: It's different for everyone with ADHD, but for me it's essential to spend time planning my story before I start writing. I like to flesh out as much as possible concerning plot, timeline, setting, world, characters and arcs, subplots, and themes.

Summary, Outline, and Scene List: Three items that are critical for me to have in hand before I sit down to write are a beginning to end summary of the story detailing all plot events as far as I know, an outline loosely based on the story structure template/s that feel right for the story (for example, I may use elements of Save the Cat! and some elements of of the Six-Stage Plot Structure), which helps me navigate my plot and hit the relevant plot points. And finally, I need a detailed scene list/timeline combo which lists chapter, scene, date/time, POV character, location, and a one to two sentence summary of what happens in the scene, including the character's goal in the scene, the scene's conflict, and the scene's resolution or how it carries into a later scene.

Gamifying: When I'm struggling with a particular time period or project, it can help me to gamify things. You can do this using a game board strategy, the Yahtzee Method, making a list of bench marks that serve as "levels," race against yourself by trying to bet the previous day's goal, etc. The key to gamifying is to set reasonable benchmarks and give yourself periodic rewards. Rewards can be anything from buying yourself a boba, watching a favorite TV show episode, an hour of playing your favorite game, or going to a movie. Some people like to go to the dollar store and buy a lot of small fun things and use those as rewards. Whatever works for you! Sometimes, turning it into a game with tangible progress and rewards can keep you motivated.

Setting Up a Routine: Although I have my general daily routine, I am without a doubt more productive when I can stick to a more specific routine that includes writing time. For me that works out to writing early in the day before other distractions start ramping up. When I put on my music, sit down with some coffee and a snack, and pull up my manuscript, my brain knows it's time to get to work. That doesn't always mean the work happens, but it's much more likely I'll get something done.

Minimizing Distractions: Anything that can be a distraction when I write is problematic. For that reason, I only listen to music without words and advertising. I turn off my phone or leave it in the other room. If possible, I try to use placeholders for things I need to look up. If I absolutely have to look something up and I get distracted by headlines, interesting articles or videos, or other things, I bookmark them in a special folder and immediately close the window. That way, I know I can go back to them later (I almost never do...) And, for me, as much as I love Scrivener and the ability to organize by chapter, have quick access to character profiles and photos, toggle between scene cards and my story... it's just too distracting for me. I'll sit down to write a chapter, then decide I need to re-do my scene cards, or cast characters, or do mood boards for every location in my story.

For that reason, writing in Word works best [for me] It's simple and there's nothing to distract me. Any story references I might need while writing, such as character profiles and photos, mood boards and aesthetics, setting inspiration photos, etc. are all organized in a special folder, categorized into sub-folders, so I can go straight to the required reference.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

#wqaadvice

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impishjesters · 1 year ago

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Jax with a s/o scared of nothing but that spider is MASSIVE

warning(s): big spider, one-sided crush, empty threats/manipulative behaviour, light Ragatha bashing, possessive Jax, anger/temper issues note(s): The one-sided crush is Ragatha on the reader, the Ragatha bashing is on Jax's end (he doesn't like her), and the possessiveness Jax has is okay (and enjoyed) with the reader. A/N: I gave up on the tags, I also gave up near the end my brain is fuzzy...I just wanted to write something for myself for once...

You’d been stuck with the task of cleaning out the closet, and in theory, that shouldn’t sound like such a daunting task. Except this closet held heaven knows what when it involves Jax, not like you’re expecting a jump scare or anything, it’s his closet too. But he has a tendency for throwing a lot of bizarre things in here and you’re just a tad afraid of what you might stumble across.

There’s little that scares you, especially now in the circus. Caine’s little activities going south? Eh, that’s normal. Someone going missing for a few hours and the fear thought that they finally succumbed and abstracted? Okay, mildly worrying but not scary—unless it was Jax—which was unlikely.

But spiders?

A scream leaves your mouth before you can properly react, and the item in hand falls with a loud thud, followed by fast and loud footsteps from outside the room. “What’s wrong?!” Jax slams the door open, knocking over a few nearby items before rushing in.

He barely has the time to assess the situation before you lunge at him. What the fuck was happening? He’s never heard you scream like that and the only one allowed to make you scream at all was him.

“Kill it!”

Jax hisses as you try climbing him, tugging on his clothes and ears to get as far as possible from whatever it is you are screaming about. Despite the yelling and his confusion, he does hold you off the ground before calling your name.

“What the fuck are ya talking about?! Kill what??”

Burying your face into his neck you point over towards the closet. “Kill it!” Confused and irritated with you screaming in his ear, he takes a step closer to the closet only for you to scream again. “No! I don’t wanna go near it!”

“Christ doll…” Jax glances at the nearby bed and places you on it before turning towards the closet. The hell has you so bent out of shape? Kill it? Kill what? You do realize that he can’t just necessarily kill—oh so that’s where that went. He eyes the large spider and laughs. “Fuck, I forgot how huge this thing is.”

It takes a few minutes for the words to process through your panic. Forgot? “Excuse me?! You mean that’s yours?! Jax what the hell!”

He snorts and throws you a glance before looking back down at the ugly thing. “Oh yeah, I got it to throw in Pomni’s room. Must’ve forgotten about it.”

“Must’ve forgot—Jax… how the fuck do you forget a spider that big?! That thing pays taxes it’s that big! Don’t you fucking laugh!”

Jax bends forward, hands on knees in full unbridled laughter. Taxes, oh that’s a good one. “Oh c’mon, you scared of a little spider?” he mocks between laughs.

“That thing is not little!” You hiss. God, you forget how much of an asshole Jax can be, it’s rarely ever aimed at you. “Are you going to get rid of it or not?”

That spider is big enough to work a nine-hour job, pay taxes, and have a full family.

Your boyfriend is still yucking it up despite your suffering. Fine, two can play that game. Clouded by a mix of fear and frustration, the words left you before you could even fully process them. “If you don’t take care of it I’m moving out and staying with Ragatha, at least she’d get rid of the spider and comfort me instead of laugh.”

His laughter stops at the mention of the doll, a scowl replacing his previous smile. You aren’t wrong, Ragatha would easily get rid of the spider, she wouldn’t like it but it wasn’t a centipede which was fair game. After all, you’d gotten rid of the centipedes for her whenever he had left them in her room, something he’s still annoyed with. Let him have his fun.

He also knows it is an empty threat, you wouldn’t actually move out—not that you realistically could, you were both trapped here. But mention of that raggedy doll was enough to set him off.

Both of you were aware of her crush on you, something that only recently started to wane with the arrival of Pomni. She wasn’t manipulative like Jax, but she often voiced her thoughts on how you deserved someone better than Jax. As if implying she was the better choice. It always pissed him off, as if he doesn’t already know that, but you were his, not hers.

It felt wrong to use Ragatha’s crush on you like this, she was a sweet woman but your heart fully belonged to the asshole standing a few feet away. In truth you aren’t quite sure what led you to say that, it felt awful to use Jax’s methods against him or even to use them at all.

Jax wanted nothing more than to lash out but managed to hold back. He knows you didn’t mean it, you weren’t like him skilled enough to utilize the whole crush in a manner to break someone down, to hurt them. But boy if he didn’t want to just wreck some shit at the thought of that rag doll with you.

Instead, he channeled that irritation and energy into leaving the room, the door left wide open. Your loud whine went unheard until he returned with a plastic container that originally held his collected bug subjects. The spider had hardly moved still resting on one of the many things that came tumbling out of the closet.

He reached out to grab it and he heard you shudder and whimper behind him, no doubt flailing your hands in disgust at how he was just touching the spider so casually. It was always cute how you were such a big baby over him touching bugs.

With the spider contained he exited the room again, and like a child afraid of the monsters under their bed, you stayed perched on the bed until he returned.

“There, the little spider is gone.”

“That was not little…” you hiss lowly.

Jax chuckles but it’s strained, it’s easy to see your words are still eating at him.

You glance at the closet before looking over your boyfriend, tending to him trumps over the unimportant messy closet. “H-hey.. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, I was scared and angry and—”

“It’s fine, angel.”

“Not it’s not!” You finally climb off the bed and step closer to him, this wasn’t gonna be brushed off so easily.

Jax pinches the bridge of his nose before exhaling, of course, you aren’t going to make this easy on him. Christ he’d prefer to pretend this whole thing didn’t happen but no, you want to talk it out, make him vulnerable, and shit.

“I was scared and angry, scared because I hate…hate…spiders. Angry because you weren’t taking it seriously,” Jax scoffs. “You were laughing Jax, don’t give me that look.” At that, he at least has the decency to look a tad guilty.

“I wasn’t gonna let it near ya let alone hurt ya.”

“I…I know that…” Christ this is awkward, neither of you was good at this sort of thing. “Look, I am sorry about what I said. Bringing her into this wasn’t fair, you know I don’t like her like that. It was unfair of me to bring her up like that when I know how you feel about it, about her.”

On the outside Jax was playful with everyone, but on the inside, you knew he’d throw Ragatha off a cliff if he could—well he could but, never mind.

Jax gradually relaxed, at least enough to let his shoulders drop, watching you suffer and struggle through apologizing was reward enough. Looks like he wasn’t the only one shit at this whole thing.

“Look, we both suck at this whole thing so why don’t we just..” He groans and rubs his face before getting on his knee to be closer to you. “I’m sorry for being a jerk, and you’re sorry for bringing her up. We can leave it at that, capiche?”

Your eyes cross in momentary annoyance and it causes Jax to snort, which in turn gets a smile out of you. Of course, he wants to be blunt and get this over with. “Capiche, but,” he rolls his eyes and you take his face in your hands before he can pull away. “But, I want it said that I would never, leave you for her. I had no plans of leaving you at all, period.”

And he knows this, he knows but she still gets on his nerves. You belong to him, possessive behaviour be dammed. Sides, you liked it. You'd even told him so once when he’d gone off on someone in the past for trying to make a hard move on you. Not that that sucker was a problem anymore.

“Alright, I get it, enough mushy shit. Sides, ya too soft to use my methods against me like that, or anyone for that matter.” Jax stands despite your protests and pulls you to his chest in a hug that shuts you right up.

The two of you stand in silence holding one another, your face happily buried into his chest, his arms loosely wrapped around your waist. It’s calming and sweet after everything that happened until it’s not.

A scream echos through the hall and you can’t help but flinch, Jax’s gives you a gentle squeeze before grinning down at you. “Welp looks like Pomni found the gift I left her.”

Oh, that poor girl. She’s on her own with that spider though, fuck going a round two with that thing.

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus x reader #jax #jax x reader #tadc jax

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ronearoundblindly · 9 months ago

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Hideout (2)

touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!Reader

Sweet Baby (see previous or series)

Summary: 'Grant' becomes comfortable enough to tell you who he is, and you get comfortable enough to show him the kindness he deserves.

Warnings for description of minor blood/injury and light smut (mentions of morning wood, dry humping, hair pulling, praise kink? maybe coached orgasm?). This series is 18+ only. MINORS DNI. There is plenty else for you youngins to read on my Light Masterlist, but this is not for you! WC 2.6k

Warmer months are for updating the rooms, so they are on a rotation of renovation. There are really busy times and really slow times based on events in town, but there’s an understanding with Grant’s ‘party’ of friends that, if needed, they can stay in the room closed for repair. It’s not as if any room is uninhabitable when they need a coat of paint and some plumbing tune-ups.

Clark doesn’t remember you told him about this—you used the excuse that Grant ’s company are handymen (and women) who come in between other jobs,—so the front desk kid calls you while you’re out running errands one day.

Two ‘dudes’ want to stay in room eight on the end. So? Let them. Those are the people who fix things. Clark just says “kay.”

When you pull into the lot hours later, you don’t expect to find Grant sitting on the curb, filthy and exhausted in some gym clothes, a plastic bag set at his feet.

“Wha’ch’a waiting for?” you call with the window down, hoping his spirits can lift easily.

Grant peers up at you through long lashes. He’s had a knock-down drag-out with a field of bramble…or something. That’s when you notice dark, dried blood in the grime stuck to him, and he lets out a long sigh.

“Sa—Tom used all the hot water,” he huffs, “so I’m biding my time.”

Their room’s water tank, the one due for maintenance, is going to take an eternity to reheat, and it’s the worst luck that there really are no other rooms available.

“Hop on in. You can use the bath up at the house.”

He looks just as startled as you by the invitation, but in no simple terms can you express how bad it is to have a huge guy covered in blood hanging out in front of your rural motel. That’s horror movie bait.

You know Grant. You trust him. All he needs is to clean himself up.

He checks behind him again. The same mix of seeking approval or seeking the cover of ignorance returns to his pretty features, and he trots over to the passenger seat of the car, plastic bag in hand.

He helps you bring in the groceries and supplies from town even though you point him in the direction of the upstairs bathroom immediately. There’s a big jacuzzi tub in there, and he is welcome to soak for however long he wants. You’ll even wash his clothes in the mean time, if he’d like.

Grant seems hesitant to accept or argue.

You press on.

Showing him where everything is in the bathroom takes a minute. You fish around a cupboard for the muscle-relaxing milk additive, explaining it may help him…if needed. You don’t know what’s happened, so you’re flying blind for options.

When the tap turns off ten minutes later, silence descends, but he never handed you stuff to wash. You knock and try the door, just to crack it open so he can hear you.

First, you notice the color of the water. He used the milk bath alright, but whatever washed immediately off him has saturated and soured the clean white into a rusty tan. Second, you pick up the pile of clothes and find more in the plastic bag, except…it’s a suit with a star decal half-ripped and dangling from the chest. Third, you realize you can’t see him in the water at all, not his feet, not his head, no bubbles, so you rush in and shove your hands beneath the surface.

He shoots up in alarm, gasping and sloshing to a different wide, rounded corner of porcelain.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you shriek, hands out and spread wide. “I just thought—I don’t know—I didn’t know if you’d—sorry!”

He rubs his hands down his face and over his dripping hair. He doesn’t even speak; he just waves for you to stop apologizing and clears water shot up his nose.

You have to collapse to the fuzzy rug and hold your heart before it beats right out of your ribcage. You still repeat “sorry” a few more times and then manage an impressed “wow, you kept all the water in.”

He thunks his head back to the lip of the tub and props up one leg, his knee cresting the surface. “I have a talent…”

The dirt, despite how much clearly came off already, is smeared grossly across him.

He looks so tired.

“May I—“ you grab the shampoo bottle all the way at his feet “—help?”

Defeated in more ways than one, he nods through the same concerned and confused gaze that’s become his signature. He maneuvers nearer you while you carefully wet your hands, starting a lather. His head stays down, spine exposed, as you massage at the base of his skull.

His eyes shut.

Your heart now swells with accomplishment; you gave this man a moment of peace.

Fingers gliding over the sinewy, tight bands beneath soft hairs, you press circles around and around his scalp. He cranes backwards while you move up and over the crown of his head, and by just above his ears, he’s laying his full weight in the water, lax against the rim.

You keep going long after his hair is strictly clean, though you’ll recommend he rinse after soaking because the water is too foul to count on.

He remains quiet, so you dip your hands in the water at his shoulders, shake them about, and move on to scrubbing his face clean, too, working down from the hairline and over his beard.

Somewhere around his throat, the man sniffs.

He sniffs again, raising a hand from the water to stop yours.

“My name isn’t…” His eyes open finally, only to stare blankly at the ceiling. “My name is Steve.”

“Okay,” you say, abandoning the washing to sit back on the mat again. “Do you want me to call you that or Grant?”

He turns, brows furrowed, and in the most authoritative voice, he replies, “you can’t tell anyone.”

You rest your chin on the lip of the tub, too. “I know. I won’t.”

Eyes locked, you two stare at each other for a long beat.

“The Captain America suit kinda gave it away though,” you whisper, and to your surprise and delight, Steve flicks water at you in retaliation.

“Okay, okay,” you laugh, “handle yourself in here while I go start the laundry.”

You stretch and almost—almost—kiss his forehead because, for whatever reason, that feels right, but at the last second you tuck your head down, acting like you were just standing up. You can’t bring yourself to look back at him while gathering the clothes.

You keep busy downstairs, scrubbing at a few spots of caked on muck, trying not to listen to the sounds of splashing, the squeaking as he moves around, the rush of the draining bath, and the tap turning back on to rinse him again. You scramble to find the biggest t-shirt and pair of pants you own (although, come to think of it, Steve’s got fairly small hips, so you grab some stretchy sweats) and hand them through the door when realizing he has nothing else to wear.

He emerges with several visible cuts and scrapes but dismisses your offer to treat them.

“It’s not worth the effort. They’ll be gone by morning.”

You’ve decided something: if he doesn’t bring it up, you won’t either.

Whatever he wants to tell you, whenever he wants to tell it, you don’t ask. You are used to keeping guests’ confidence—not that anyone tells you deep, dark secrets, but you refuse to gossip about cleanliness or things in the trash—and ‘Grant’ will be no different.

You can, however, still tease him.

“Ready to share that queen bed with Tom?” You give his beefy arm a playful punch.

Steve groans.

“Kidding,” you beam. “I’m not making you walk that path in the dark right now. An elk could get ya!”

He pinches tired eyes, a ghost of a smirk realigning the hairs of his beard. You imagine that on any other day, he would put up more of a fight, but he’s fought enough.

“Yeah, okay. As long as I won’t scare the daylights out of your parents by being on the couch in the morning.” Steve steps over to the landing at the top of the stairs.

“They’re at a hospitality conference. I run the place…mostly. Besides, what kind of host would I be if I didn’t offer you a bed that fits you?” You dramatically bow and indicate your room. “This way, please, sir.”

Good thing he has no fight left in him. His eyes narrow adorably, but he doesn’t budge.

“I should let Tom know.”

“There is a phone in there, too. I’ll dial room eight.”

You get him some water, hanging his clothes to dry, offering as much privacy as you can in an old house with thin walls.

“Yeah, hi, it’s…yes, yes, I’m… Yeah, I know. I know, Sam, just—you don’t have to laugh about it. She let me use the bath, is all. You’re the one who—Well, don’t take all the damn wa—hello? Hello?” Steve is staring at the receiver of the land line when you appear in the doorway. “Uh, he…gets it.”

He sits on the edge of your bed, glancing around your neither childish nor sterile room. You put the glass down on your side table instead of handing it to him.

“Okay, I think you need rest,” you add, sweeping your hand down his bare arm.

You marvel at how the edges of his cuts are already shrinking, knitting back together in near-realtime. Your fingertips trace around the skin like an interactive roadmap.

First heal this, then he needs this, and this is deeper here.

You wonder whether he feels pain the same as everyone else. Is it dulled? Does he just have to ignore how much and how frequently he hurts because it goes away sooner? That’s a sad thought to you. Just because he’ll be okay, doesn’t mean he should suffer more.

He’s a miracle. As Grant, Steve, Cap, or nobody at all, he’s still a miracle.

“You don’t have to go…”

The last of the evening blurs as you wake, but you remember Steve needed this. He asked you to stay.

Spooning is the only way to fit on the bed together. After finishing your own bedtime routing, you began behind the giant man, curled tight, lightly scratching over his broad shoulders and arms. He fell asleep so quickly, and you don’t recall how long after that you both turned over. You had to drape Steve’s awkward arm around you, show him he could hold you close, assure him he can be as comfortable as he likes.

Whichever way he settled is infinitely better than falling off the bed, and you’re grateful he’s accommodating in a small space. You suppose he has to be. Though, for a man as dense as a brick wall, he is shockingly pliant around you.

Shame you have to stretch, ruining the picture of fitting puzzle pieces you’ve become.

Arms out and legs long, you roll, restless on the one side for too long in the night. Steve shifts around your moves, laying his head on your arm instead of the pillow. His arm that was your pillow wedges down by your waist instead.

Your knees knock his, so even in sleep, he lets them slot through, legs entangled and…his erection laying over your thigh, the tip poking your hip.

Your body tenses for a split second, the muscles of your leg brush harder against his cock, and Steve groans softly, the arm draped over you pulling your body closer.

He’s still asleep, breathing easy, his features totally relaxed.

His golden hair shines in the early light, and he’s so, so beautiful.

You move stray locks from his face, enjoying how he nuzzles and sighs as you play. Quiet, lazy touches.

His hips nudge forward for friction. His fingers grab at your nightshirt. One of his shifts angles his length to drive against your mound instead, and you gasp involuntarily, having smothered your excitement for too long.

He stirs, a heavier, longer breath followed by Steve's whole body going rigid and his eyes squeezing shut. He tries to bury his face in your arm, and you can’t help it. You hope he’ll continue.

You shush him, carding through his hair to soothe him as you did in the bath.

There’s nothing wrong.

He can feel good.

He should feel good.

You want him to feel good. Hell, you don’t say it, but you need to make him feel good.

Steve still won’t face you. He leans closer, shielding himself with your chest, but he doesn’t pull his hips away.

You can hear him thinking through his options groggily, and in your nervousness, you pull at the fistful of hair in your hand.

Steve whimpers and juts his pelvis forward.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “Did you like that? Does that feel nice, Stevie?”

His abs flutter with a spasming exhale, but he says nothing. His rough hands dig into your back while he desperately seeks more friction.

You let him—you encourage him—to keep going.

“Whatever you need…it’s okay.”

He pants into your skin, making you sweat while he dissolves into a mewling mess of shame, taking what he deserves.

He bends his leg for leverage, the sole of his foot pressing flush to your calf. You feel his thumping heartbeat along all of your skin that touches his. He swallows moans which sound hollow and deep where they die in his chest before Steve grunts and stretches, the whole underbelly of his cock rubbing your inner thigh and baiting your clit mercilessly with almost-contact.

You release his hair, asking “do you want my han—”

But it’s too late.

Steve seizes you in his last moments hard before he stills, palms so wide you’ll feel the marks over an entire shoulder blade and the breadth of skin from your ass to your ribcage.

You yelp, the nails of your trapped hand clawing at the sheets around you. It’s a good pain. It’s worth it to witness how his body melts into yours after he comes. He’s lax and heavy, pathetic convulsions of ecstasy subsiding.

You’re only just starting to feel the wet fabric on your thigh when he peels away and rushes to the bathroom.

The best thing for him is to act normal. It is normal for him to be hard in the morning, to want contact and satisfaction, and the truth is it’s perfectly normal for you to dream of providing that for him. You want that contact with him. You are satisfied when he is satisfied.

That's scary because it's a secret as hidden from you both as his identity now, but you won't talk about it. If he doesn't ask, then he doesn't want the answer. It's better that way.

So that was okay, and this is okay.

It's okay, and you tell him when you bring his gym clothes back to the door. You repeat it as he walks out of your home unable to look you in the eye, his partially-destroyed past life wadded up in a fresh plastic bag.

At the bottom of the porch steps, he turns, still focused on the ground.

“Thank you for the…the bath.”

You can’t tell anyone about him—about how you feel for him—not even him. It wouldn’t be right. He doesn’t want that.

“I’m glad you feel better, Grant.”

A/N: Google, Play 'Hopelessly Devoted To You.' *starts weeping some more*

[Next Part: Sensitive Boy, Part I]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @rogersbarber @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes

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gilbirda · 10 months ago

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Friendly neighborhood vigilante. Chapter 23

BatmanxDP crossover. JasonxJazz

[Read on AO3] [Read on FF.net]

Based on this post

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“Sorry about that,” Jazz was as chirpy and radiant as she usually was when she found them in the breakfast room. “Danny’s extra cranky. Probably haven't slept in a few weeks.”

“Everything okay?” Bruce had to ask.

Jazz's smile was bright as she sat down next to Jason, who was finishing his toast. “Yeah! I feel better than ever!”

Right. The vials.

“I meant your brother.” Bruce’s eyebrow twitched with the thousand questions he surely wanted to ask.

Jazz looked up from where she was reaching for the toast and some strawberry jam. “Yeah? He’s sleeping. He’ll be fine.”

Dick chuckled and leaned in. “What Bruce meant to say,” he side eyed his father, who breathed in relief and continued drinking his coffee, “is what was that about? Things seemed pretty heated between Danny and you.”

Jason gave him a warning look, but otherwise didn’t react.

On the other hand, Jazz snorted. “Ghosts’ love language is fighting.” She shook her head. “He wouldn’t actually hurt me.”

Jason’s eyebrows went to his hairline, and very wisely chose to bite back a few questions. Also Jazz’s personality was slowly starting to make sense. He was sure that once he knew everything he wouldn’t need to feel this confused.

“Could have fooled me.” Dick commented instead. “Danny really didn't like Jason.”

“He didn’t—” Jazz tensed. She finished chewing and forced her shoulders to relax. “Is not that— I mean. I think Danny will like him, it’s just—”

“Is this about your exes?” Her boyfriend asked softly, reaching for an apple and putting it on her plate. She quietly thanked him.

“Yes and no. I…” she blushed, “I don’t have the best track record.”

Bruce cleared his throat. “Did you— Uh.” He realized too late he could sound like he was interrogating her. “I apologize, but I need to ask. The report Danny mentioned—?”

“Yeah. That.” With a tired sigh, Jazz put her knife down. “David. He… Well.”

“That’s the one that cheated on you, right?”

She nodded at Jason. “I found out I was actually a side piece. It wasn’t fun.” She scrunched her nose.

“What happened?”

“Dick.” Jason warned.

“No, no. It’s okay. I took care of it.”

“Dislocated shoulder and shattered hand?” Cass spoke for the first time.

Jazz sighed again. “The dislocated shoulder was because he didn’t understand the meaning of the word ‘no’.” She made a face. “And the hand was because I didn’t realize how… soft humans actually are.”

At this point? They were getting used to Jazz — and her brother — being a different category in their heads. For Dick it was like the slight adjustment he had to make when he was with the Titans. He had been the only human, fully human, of the group and he had to get used to his best friends and then girlfriend making these types of comments regularly.

“I found out…” Jazz continued with a distant look in her eyes, “I found out because I came back to the living world sooner than I expected and decided to check out my favorite coffee place and he was there with another woman. I thought — ‘well, I’m not around much and I’m also not the most exciting person, of course I got cheated on’ but the more I listened the less it made sense.”

“You are not boring.” Jason scoffed, frowning a little at the self deprecating behavior and the story. How could that idiot not see what he had in front of him?

“Thanks,” her smile was small, but sincere, “but the story doesn’t end there.” She leaned in, her eyes narrowing as her smile twitched a little. “Things didn’t quite add up and I quickly realized it was me who was the ‘other woman’ and this poor person didn’t know. And him? He was abusing her.”

“What?”

Jazz nodded at Dick. “I followed them, listening in, trying to see any sign that he was not the same person he was with me that he was with her. Claudia — that’s her name — showed textbook behavior of abuse and I had to make sure.” She sighed, leaning back on her seat, looking tired. “Long story short I caught him threatening her and taking her phone and I decided to act. Waited until she was home safe and had a chat with David and told him very nicely that he shouldn’t do that and yes, I may have accidentally sent him to the hospital.”

She went back to her breakfast, choosing to take a bite of her toast and chew for a few moments.

“Claudia took the chance while he was recovering and broke up with him, moved apartments and found the help she needed. I would have preferred she reported him, but I can’t force her and if that was enough for her then it’s fine by me.” She shrugged. “I had to go back to the Realms shortly after so I couldn’t stay to check further, and then things got complicated and I just came back for college stuff and even then I had to be quick.”

Bruce took a sip of his coffee to hide the tiny smile.

Jazz was not a hero or a vigilante, but he could see why she fit in the family so much, and more importantly, why his son liked her so much.

“What happened to the guy?”

Jazz chuckled at Duke’s question. “As much as I'd like to report some type of karmic punishment, last time I saw him he was still frequenting the same coffee place. But he was alone. His hand was healed, though. I didn’t stay longer to check more. I couldn’t.” Her little frown and tense shoulders told them not to pry.

Conversation continued as they finished breakfast, mostly questions about her brother and what they saw almost go down in the kitchen. Jazz was very open about what she could tell, and shared a few stories about Danny and his “bad taste in women”. They noticed how earlier stories about Danny’s powers and Team Phantom adventures were easy for her to tell; but later ones, from about the time Danny graduated highschool, became a stream of “ummm”s and “uhhh”s and “and etcetera” that she used to dance around the truth.

Jason almost felt guilty for contributing to the general subtle questioning, but Jazz was happy enough to share stories and she even acknowledged that she was happy to share the whole thing at a later time.

Soon the timeline that Barbara had roughly put together was filled with tidbits of information — all those blank spots she found were the times the siblings (and their friends) were back in the Infinite Realms. Doing what exactly? That was the final piece of the puzzle.

She talked about training, about classes, about Frighty and Frostbite and Clockwork and a plethora of ghosts as if they were supposed to know who they were — classic Jazz — and with context they quickly understood that the names she repeated the most were some kind of guides or teachers on this mysterious part of her life.

It wasn't difficult to put together that Jazz, Danny and this… “Team Phantom” were somehow related to the High King of the Infinite Realms.

That still left a bunch of questions, like what were their exact roles, who was the king and what were her parents doing during those periods of time. They didn’t broach the subject but they knew from Babs’ research that they were working for the GIW, a sketchy organization that wanted them eliminated, during those times they were in the Infinite Realms.

If they knew about all of this, why haven’t they done something already? If their guesses were correct, they’ve been fighting and training for a bit less than a decade. It didn’t make sense that they had this kind of power, this kind of backup, and haven’t tried to bring down the GIW yet.

Or contacted the Justice League. Sure, they were angry and disappointed that the heroes never came to help, but Jazz insisted they had the situation back at her hometown under control. Technically, they could now ask for that support.

Glancing at Bruce and his calculating eyes, Jason decided he didn’t blame her for not reaching out. And he wasn’t sure what she would do after how bad Bruce had treated her.

“Oh Ancients,” Jazz jumped and put her orange juice back on the table. She glanced at Dick. “The class. Today. I forgot.”

The man chuckled. “I already called and said that I wouldn’t be able to attend today. The show you and your brother put on in the kitchen told me today was going to be interesting enough.”

She blushed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. They are already used to me canceling at the last minute. Just Vigilante Things.” He winked.

“Don’t I know it.” A new voice answered from the door. Danny walked in dragging his feet, hair sticking outwards in every direction and eyes narrowed. “Good morning.”

“Hey you.” Jazz turned in her seat. “You look awful.”

“Is my natural charm.” Danny yawned and sat next to his sister. “Hi all. My name is Danny. Can I eat some food?”

Some at the table chuckled at his words. Bruce nodded, amused, and abandoned all pretense that he wasn’t analyzing the siblings.

“Slept okay?” He asked.

“Better than I have in weeks.” Danny shrugged, making quick work of what was left on the table. He wasn’t picky, and he didn’t complain about the food being cold. “Mostly because I haven’t slept in weeks more than a few naps under my desk.”

“I told you—”

“I know.” He cut off his sister. “I know. I just never find the time.”

Jazz looked like she wanted to argue but chose to let it go and helped Danny assemble the worst breakfast combination in the world. The rest watched in horror and fascination as the young man devoured everything at a fast pace, not caring about chewing or tasting the food.

Once he swallowed, he continued talking. “We have been using the system — you know, the one you created?” He rolled his eyes when Jazz smiled, pleased. “It has been working fine. It’s just,” he sighed, “after you left everything kept piling up. I didn’t know how much work you did — how much reading I would do.” Danny rubbed his face in despair.

“And that’s why Tucker was my back up for the—”

“And he has been doing a great job but I made the mistake of offering my help, you know, I thought ‘oh, I have some free time! I can help my loved ones’ — that was my first mistake.”

“Thinking?” Jazz arched an eyebrow, her smile mocking.

Danny didn’t find it amusing, but quiet and barely contained chuckles around the table disagreed with him.

“Now seriously, do you need me to come back?” She asked, pointedly ignoring the stares, especially her boyfriend’s.

Danny’s eyes opened wide. “No! No, please. You stay where you are.” He gestured widely with his hands. “We got this. You— You enjoy your vacation.”

Vacation? Jazz said she was in Arkham to learn skills for her work in the Realms.

“I told you I’m not—”

“Yes. You are. Vacation.” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her a little. “Stop worrying. We got this.”

“Good luck with getting her to relax.”

“Hey!” Jazz turned towards her boyfriend. “I thought you were supposed to be on my side?”

“And I am. On the side where you stop worrying.”

Danny finally smiled. “You are not that bad, Mr Boyfriend.”

“Jason.”

Danny’s smiles grew with mischief, and didn’t say anything else. Jazz sighed.

“Please behave.”

“I always do.”

“You know as well as I do that that’s a lie.” She narrowed her eyes at her brother. “I thought we agreed you’d behave when you visit.”

“Still thinking you are capable of ‘being normal’?” He did the air quotes and everything. “Jazz, I love you, but you know that—”

“I know.” She looked down at her hands on her lap. “Believe me I know.”

Something clicked in Danny’s mind, because his teasing smile melted from his face the moment her words were out of her mouth.

He glanced at Jason, who tensed at the look, and went back to his sister. “What happened?”

Everyone noticed the switch in the siblings. Danny’s tense shoulders and alert eyes immediately going around the room looking for something. He didn’t know the details but he knew something was up with Jasmine.

“The situation has changed.” She started, still looking down. “I… The—I mean, I will take care of it, I always do, but we need to talk.”

Jason didn’t miss Danny’s dangerous glint in his eye when he looked at him again. Or the green glow in the blue irises.

“You said so in your text.” He nodded. “So this isn’t just about Mr Muscles over there?”

Jazz's soft chuckle was almost able to break the tension in the room. Cass, Duke and Dick stopped breathing, knowing this was it. Damian, who had been ignoring everyone and had been texting John the whole time, finally put his phone down. Bruce and Jason shared a look. This was it.

“How about we move this important conversation to the drawing room? I feel like you will be more comfortable there.” Alfred as always knew when to walk in, and started picking up the dirty dishes without waiting for a reply.

With a few murmurs in agreement, the whole group stood up and moved towards the room they’d been in the previous night. The arrangement was similar, with Bruce in the loveseat and the siblings cramming themselves in the opposite couch to the one where Jason, Jazz and Danny sat down.

Jazz was holding on to her boyfriend’s hand for dear life, trying to calm down. She appreciated his words of encouragement as they walked with the group, and held her head high by the time she faced her brother again.

“Jason, and his family, they… they know.”

Danny lifted an eyebrow. “I have noticed.” He crossed his arms. “After this morning, I’d expect a few screams in horror, but nobody has reported us to the police yet, so…”

“No, no. Danny, they know.”

It took a moment for her words to settle in, but when they did he bared his teeth and stood up. “WHAT?” He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What the hell, Jazz? It’s been what, a few months? And this guy,” he pointed at Jason, who didn’t, couldn't, look at him, “makes cute eyes at you so you spill MY secrets?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Oh yeah?” He threw his hands up. “Enlighten me. Tell me how it was, because I was mostly joking when I said you have terrible taste, but—”

“It wasn’t like that.” She growled, bristling. “Things happened and I really need you to trust me for this one.”

“Trust you?” Danny asked, incredulous. “Are you seriously asking me to trust you right now?”

She straightened her back. “Yes I am. When have I led you astray?”

Danny scoffed. “You want the list alphabetical?”

“Danny.”

The siblings glared at each other, face expressions and eyes telling more than what words could tell. Danny was furious but cautious, and the fact that he hadn’t ran away yet was taken as a good sign. Jazz was hurt and pleading, but firm even when both their eyes started turning green.

Bruce wanted to shrink into his seat in shame, but he couldn’t. He did this. Jazz was forced against her will to reveal information so he wouldn’t march her into the Justice League and trial her for crimes he thought she committed. And now she had the chance to pay back, to rightfully blame him and tell her brother how he kidnapped her and hurt her, and she wasn’t saying anything.

“Okay.” Danny finally said. “Okay,” he sighed, “when we are back home you bet your ass you are explaining.”

“Everything will make sense in time.”

“You are starting to talk like Clockwork.”

This made her smirk. “Good. It keeps you on your toes.”

Danny made a mocking face to his sister and turned to look at the others watching.

“I guess there’s nothing to lose.”

There was a flash of bright light and instead of the tired and burned out younger Fenton sibling, they saw a floating glowing figure dressed in black and white. It was still Danny, but hair was white and eyes were green; and all the ghostly physical traits they saw in the siblings — fangs, claws, pointed ears — were exaggerated in this form.

“My name is Danny Phantom. The one and only hero of Amity Park—” Jazz cleared her throat, “I mean,” he glared at her and crossed his legs in the air, still floating, “I am the only undead hero of Amity Park. I have helpers.”

“Very funny.” Jazz said. She turned towards Bruce, Jason and the others. “Guys, this is my brother. Danny, these are the Waynes. Jason’s family.”

Danny’s eyebrows arched. “You are Bruce Wayne?” The way he asked had zero amount of awe. He was familiar with the name and not in a good way.

“You know who I am?”

“Sam — my girlfriend — knows who you are. She’s been to a few of your fancy-schmancy galas. She said she hated every second of it.”

The older man found it funny. “They tend to be mind numbingly boring.”

“Hey Danny,” Jazz’s voice was careful, “is this place safe?”

This made the young man tense and unfold his legs, all playfulness gone. “What do you mean?”

“I— I did my own check, but I’d feel better if you did one too. I wouldn’t like for, hm, Vlad to—”

“Vlad is involved in this?” Nobody missed the growl in his chest.

“All will make sense, I promise.” Jazz pleaded, lifting her hands in a placating manner.

Jason glanced at Bruce. They knew Vlad Master was bad news, but this confirmed it.

“Okay. Trusting you. Whatever.” Danny breathed slowly and disappeared.

Immediately, Jazz explained: “He’s doing a sweep of the haunt.” Determined, she looked at Bruce and then at Jason. “Will it be okay if I tell him about you guys?”

Bruce looked conflicted for a second, but Jason didn’t hesitate. “Go ahead.” He glared at Bruce as if daring him to say otherwise. “We owe you at least that.”

By the time Danny was back Bruce had come to terms that he had to start being okay with a bunch of things really quick if he wanted his answers. Glancing at Jasmine and how her worried frown never left her, he considered it wasn’t that bad of a step towards properly apologizing to her. She had said a few days ago that his apology at Jason’s apartment wasn’t enough. He was starting to understand the dimensions of the situation he caused.

“Okay. Place is clean. There’s a lot of dead relatives but that’s expected from a haunt like this one.”

Bruce wanted so badly to ask him to elaborate on that. But kept his mouth shut.

“Alright.” Jazz breathed in slowly. “Danny,” she started, “remember you are trusting me, ok?”

“You are scaring me.” He tried to joke, but his sister didn’t even smile.

“Could you please show them the… the other thing?”

“What other—” realization dawned on him. “Jazz, you didn’t—!”

“I haven’t!”

“Then why—?”

“I asked you if this was safe, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then listen to me,” she insisted, standing up to approach her brother. “Trust me. Show them.” She took his hands in hers, the contrast of both the alive and dead sibling blurring the longer Jazz stood there. It was like their auras became visible and pulsed together, a low hum barely perceptible rumbling in the room. “Trust me.”

The rumbling stopped when their hands stopped touching. Danny floated back and let his body lower until his feet touched the floor. He threw a worried look at Jazz and nodded, all aggressiveness dissipating and leaving a vulnerable expression on his face.

He didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t have to. Gasps and one yelp in surprise filled the silence when green flames engulfed his body, from the bottom of his feet to the last strand of hair, and in its path, it revealed the same undead creature but not quite the same young man.

Danny looked like a completely different person with the dark metal armor over the suit. He looked taller, and bigger, and his presence commanded attention even if he wasn’t saying anything. He wore a cape dark as night, with millions of stars glowing on the inside, and that floated as if some kind of invisible breeze had entered the room.

The most impressive thing, though, was the black crown over his head. It floated a few inches over his hair, and the flames of his transformation seemed to concentrate in the mysterious metal, flowing and pulsating like a heartbeat.

“I am…” Even his voice sounded different. Heavier. He glanced at Jazz, who nodded. “I am Daniel James Phantom, the High King of the Infinite Realms.”

In the following moments, the Waynes felt like they were living in some kind of surrealistic alternate dimension. It was the moment at the maximum height of a jump, right before gravity did its thing and violently pulled you back down to Earth. Watching Danny, who just a few hours before had crashed into the house and looked more roadkill than person, was floating now in the middle of their drawing room wearing a full armor, a burning crown and a heavy presence that rivaled Batman on a bad day.

Dick broke the moment, acting like the gravity he loved to defy, and hollered a laugh coming from deep in his chest. “Eat shit, Stephanie!”

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