#Inconspicuous Technology | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dreamersworldduh · 3 months ago

Text

The Boy Who Broke Chains

• CONNER KENT x MALE!READER

SUMMARY — Conner Kent, known as Superboy, is a powerful figure, capable of great destruction and widely feared. He is respected for his immense strength and serious demeanor, making him a strong ally. However, to you, he is much more than that. He is Project Kr, a clone of Superman from Cadmus who once helped you escape from captivity. You remember his fierce determination and how he fought for his own identity while freeing you. To the world, he's Superboy, but to you, he's the boy who brought hope and light.

WARNING! 18+MDNI! Swearing.

WORDS! 16.5k

AUTHOR'S NOTE! Conner Kent is that guy, no one can tell me otherwise. The boy is fiooooneeeee, okay! This was a long one to write and it definitely trampled other fics I have planned, but I had get it out for the readers. Anyway, enjoy your reading! 😉 ✨

Acquiring the ability to control cosmic energy was never something you envisioned for your life, but desperate times can drive even the most ordinary person into extraordinary circumstances. For years, your family had been struggling under the suffocating weight of financial instability. Bills piled up like mountains, debts threatened to swallow your home, and your part-time job at the corner store barely scraped together enough to keep the lights on. Watching your parents age prematurely under the strain of endless stress made you feel helpless, as though you were merely a spectator to your family's slow unraveling.

But one evening, as you flipped through the faded pages of a secondhand newspaper, something caught your eye. It was a small, inconspicuous ad nestled between real estate listings and job postings. The bold letters read: "Volunteers Needed: Lucrative Opportunity. Life-Changing Rewards." Beneath it, the fine print offered no real details, just a phone number and one name: LexCorp.

You'd heard of LexCorp before—who hadn't? Depending on who you asked, it was either a beacon of technological progress or a shadowy conglomerate with too many secrets. Whispers about their projects varied from revolutionary to downright sinister. But desperation doesn't allow for hesitation. The promise of financial salvation was too tempting, so you dialed the number that same night.

A calm, professional voice on the other end of the line invited you for a preliminary interview. The process moved faster than you expected. Within days, you found yourself in a gleaming, sterile office building that loomed over the city like a monolith. You answered questions about your health, your resilience, and—strangely—your willingness to take risks. The interviewer never clarified what kind of risks, but when they slid the contract across the table, your focus locked on the reward: a sum so generous it could pay off all your family's debts and still leave enough for a comfortable life.

The contract was a labyrinth of legal jargon and densely packed paragraphs, punctuated by bold phrases like "irreversible effects," "assumption of risk," and "non-disclosure agreement." But the promise of freedom for your family outweighed any doubt, so you scrawled your signature across the dotted lines without looking back.

It wasn't until later that the grim reality set in. The "project" wasn't just experimental—it was dangerous. LexCorp had unearthed a crystalline artifact, a strange cube humming with energy not of this Earth. According to the scientists, it contained pure cosmic energy—an unstable force capable of reshaping matter, bending space, and altering the fabric of reality itself. They theorized that, in the right hands, it could create beings with abilities to rival even Superman.

You weren't alone in the program. A handful of other volunteers joined you, all desperate for their own reasons. The testing began almost immediately, a grueling process that pushed your body and mind to the brink. You were exposed to blinding flashes of the cube's energy, its chaotic currents coursing through containment fields barely strong enough to hold it. Each session felt like standing in the heart of a storm, your nerves stretched taut as the energy seared through your veins.

It didn't take long for the casualties to mount. One by one, the other volunteers fell. Some collapsed under the strain of the experiments, their bodies unable to adapt to the energy's raw intensity. Others met even darker fates as containment breaches unleashed bursts of uncontrollable power. The scientists treated each loss as a data point, scribbling notes on clipboards while their expressions remained disturbingly detached.

And then there was you. Somehow, inexplicably, you endured. Where others withered, you thrived. Your body didn't just survive the energy—it absorbed it, adapted to it, and transformed. You began to exhibit abilities that defied explanation: manipulating matter with a thought, generating bursts of pure energy, and sensing disturbances in the world around you as if you were tethered to something far greater than yourself.

At first, the scientists were ecstatic. You were their success story, their living proof that the experiment could work. But as your abilities grew, so did your unease. This power didn't feel natural—it felt like something alien, a force that didn't belong within a human shell. The memories of the other volunteers haunted you, their faces a constant reminder of the cost of your transformation.

The financial burden that had weighed so heavily on your family was gone, replaced by an entirely new weight—the realization that you were no longer just a person. You were a weapon, a product of ambition and desperation. Your life was no longer your own.

What began as a desperate attempt to help your family had turned you into something else entirely: a walking, breathing experiment. And while your body thrived on cosmic energy, your soul bore the scars of what you'd become.

The madness didn't end with your newfound powers. If anything, it spiraled into a nightmare beyond your darkest imaginings. LexCorp saw you not as a person, but as a priceless asset—an investment they intended to exploit to its fullest. To ensure you would remain under their absolute control, they delivered a cruel, calculated lie to your family: you had died in a tragic, catastrophic accident. There was no body, no closure, just grief. As far as your parents knew, you were gone—a victim of this cold, merciless world.

But you weren't dead. Far from it. LexCorp secretly transferred you to Cadmus, an infamous facility buried deep in classified government records, renowned for its cutting-edge but ethically dubious experiments in genetic manipulation and superhuman biology. The compound itself was a fortress, hidden in an unmarked location, surrounded by layers of security designed to ensure nothing—and no one—got out.

Your new "home" was a specialized containment cell, meticulously engineered to nullify your powers. The walls shimmered faintly with a metallic sheen, imbued with compounds and technology designed to absorb the cosmic energy flowing through your body. No matter how much strength you summoned, the cell rendered you powerless. It wasn't just a prison—it was a tomb for your autonomy.

The routines of captivity weren't physically harsh, but they were psychologically devastating. Each day was a dull monotony, a predictable loop that wore on your mind like sandpaper against stone. You were provided meals on a rigid schedule—nutrient-rich but devoid of flavor—and your quarters, while minimally comfortable, felt suffocating in their sterile, inhuman design. Time blurred into an endless expanse of sameness.

Occasionally, you had moments of interaction that broke the monotony. Conversations with the G-Gnomes, small, psychic creatures employed by Cadmus to probe your thoughts and monitor your mental state, offered a strange sort of companionship, though their eerie, insectoid features unnerved you. Then there was Kraig, a peculiar hybrid being who seemed almost amused by your predicament. He spoke in riddles, dropping cryptic hints about Cadmus's inner workings and the shadowy figures pulling the strings.

They also allowed you to practice your powers, but only under strict supervision. The training arena was a sterile, white void, filled with sensors that monitored your every move. You were tested to your limits—summoning bursts of energy, manipulating objects, even warping matter in controlled settings. But you weren't doing it for your benefit. Every session was another data point for Cadmus, another step in their quest to unlock and weaponize the full extent of your abilities.

The guards at Cadmus ensured compliance at all costs. They weren't your average enforcers. These were genetic hybrids, beings with enhanced strength, speed, and resilience, some of them augmented by alien DNA. Their presence was a constant reminder of the futility of resistance. Every hallway you walked, every glance from their cold, calculating eyes, made it clear that rebellion was not an option. Even if you managed to overpower them—which seemed impossible—the labyrinthine facility offered no clues about its location. No windows, no distinguishing features, nothing that hinted at where you might be in the world. For all you knew, you could have been on another planet.

The isolation began to chip away at your resolve. Days bled into weeks, the walls of your cell pressing closer with each passing moment. You began to lose track of time, your mind slipping into darker places. Dreams of escape faded, replaced by the oppressive reality of your imprisonment. And then, something unexpected happened.

On what seemed like an ordinary day, during one of your escorted walks to the training area, you encountered him. At first, you thought your eyes were deceiving you. Standing before you was a figure straight out of legend: Superman. The same chiseled jawline, the iconic red cape, the unmistakable "S" shield on his chest. Your heart froze in your chest. What was he doing here? Had he come to save you?

But Kraig, your enigmatic acquaintance, quickly corrected your assumption. This wasn't Superman. It was Project Kr—an imperfect clone crafted in Cadmus's relentless quest to control the power of Kryptonian DNA. Up close, you could see the cracks in the illusion: his slightly rougher features, the faint aura of instability in his demeanor. He was no savior, but another prisoner, bound by the same invisible chains that held you.

Meeting Project Kr changed everything. He wasn't just a clone; he was a person, struggling with his own identity, his own chains, his own quiet rebellion. In him, you saw a kindred spirit—a reflection of your own suffering and longing for freedom. For the first time, hope flickered in the darkness.

Finding someone to talk to was a relief, even if Project Kr wasn't exactly the warmest conversationalist. At first, your exchanges were brief—fleeting moments punctuated by short questions or observations. He wasn't particularly chatty, and his reserved nature made it difficult to know whether he even wanted to engage. Still, you persisted. Slowly, those terse exchanges began to grow into longer interactions. It might have started with a simple question—something about the sterile facility you both called a prison—but it gradually blossomed into hesitant conversations that carried the weight of mutual understanding.

Project Kr was captivated by your stories of the outside world. His eyes would narrow in quiet fascination as you described the mundane details of life beyond Cadmus. The way sunlight broke through trees in the morning, the scent of fresh rain on concrete, the chatter of strangers in a crowded marketplace—things you'd once taken for granted now felt like treasures as you recounted them. His questions were sharp and deliberate, as though each answer unraveled a world he had only dreamed of but never truly believed existed. You painted him pictures of blue skies and bustling cities, of quiet parks and chaotic streets. And every word seemed to stick, as if he was storing these glimpses of freedom deep within himself.

In return, you tried to nudge the conversation toward anything that might help you escape. You asked careful questions about the facility's layout, its security measures, and anything else that might give you a clue. But Project Kr's responses were vague, fragmented, and often unhelpful. It didn't take long to notice something was off about him. Sometimes, mid-conversation, his expression would cloud over, and he'd grow quiet, almost distant, as though listening to something you couldn't hear.

It was then you realized the truth: Kraig. The strange psychic hybrid who had been a begrudging presence in your life was manipulating Project Kr's mind. Subtly, perhaps even unconsciously, Kraig was twisting his thoughts and controlling his actions. The realization sent a chill down your spine. One day, in a rare moment of privacy, you managed to warn Project Kr. You kept your tone neutral and your words vague to avoid tipping off Kraig, but you urged him to be cautious, to question the voices in his mind. Project Kr didn't acknowledge your warning directly, but his thoughtful silence made you hope he'd understood.

Your chance at freedom came sooner than expected—and from a source you never could have predicted. One day, alarms erupted through the sterile corridors of Cadmus. The red lights painted the walls in flashes, and the normally unflappable guards scrambled like panicked ants. You had no idea what was happening. Then the sounds of muffled combat echoed through the facility, followed by explosions and shouts.

The chaos found its way to your cell when the door hissed open, and three figures appeared: Robin, Kid Flash, and Aqualad. Their presence was so unexpected that you thought it might be a trick or some elaborate test. But there they were, battered but determined, with Project Kr at their side. They wasted no time in freeing you. There was no room for questions or hesitation—only urgency. They needed to move, and you weren't about to argue.

The escape was a whirlwind of chaos. The five of you fought your way through the labyrinthine facility, dodging guards and tearing through security systems. The young heroes moved with reckless determination, their banter sharp despite the life-or-death stakes. You quickly found your place among them, using your powers to blast through obstacles and defend the group as the facility descended into absolute pandemonium.

Along the way, you liberated others—victims of Cadmus's cruel experiments. Some were like you, beings infused with strange powers, while others were creatures whose very existence seemed impossible. Together, you all made your way toward freedom, leaving destruction in your wake. Guards fell, alarms blared, and containment units shattered as the facility unraveled.

When you finally broke free, the night air hit your skin like a long-forgotten memory. You barely had a moment to savor the victory, though, before the Justice League arrived. The towering heroes descended like gods from the sky, their presence commanding. But instead of celebration, you were met with sharp disapproval. Batman's cold glare, Wonder Woman's disappointment, and Superman's shock all weighed heavy on the young heroes.

The League was unimpressed with the recklessness of Robin, Kid Flash, and Aqualad. But it was the sight of Project Kr that truly sent ripples through the group. Superman froze, staring at his clone with a mixture of disbelief, discomfort, and unspoken questions. The tension in the air was palpable as the League tried to make sense of what had happened and what Cadmus had been hiding.

You stood awkwardly amidst the chaos, unsure of where you belonged in this strange new reality. All you wanted was to go home, to finally see your family again and leave this nightmare behind. But it quickly became clear that wasn't going to happen—not yet. Batman's sharp, calculating gaze lingered on you, assessing your powers, your potential. You felt like a puzzle piece he was already trying to fit into a grander scheme.

It wasn't freedom you had walked into—it was the beginning of something much larger. The escape had torn open a new chapter in your life, one where you were no longer just a prisoner but a player in a game far beyond your understanding. And as the Justice League deliberated your fate, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the start of something far more complicated, far more dangerous, than you'd ever imagined.

Returning home should have been the end of your nightmare, but instead, it marked the beginning of a more complicated and harrowing chapter in your life. Batman, true to his word, arranged for your return to your family, but not without strings attached. Standing in the shadows of your old neighborhood, he issued a warning: he would be watching, checking in periodically to ensure you didn't lose control—or endanger anyone. His voice was steady, almost detached, but his presence left little room for argument. Exhausted, you didn't press for details. All you wanted was to go home.

The reunion with your parents was both heartwarming and devastating. When they opened the door, their faces were a storm of emotions—shock, disbelief, and overwhelming joy. The tears came quickly, followed by bone-crushing hugs, as they struggled to reconcile the son they thought they'd lost with the one standing before them now. But as relief gave way to reality, their joy turned to anger.

They didn't hold back, their voices rising as they scolded you for your recklessness. Volunteering for an experiment with LexCorp—of all places? What were you thinking? Didn't you know how dangerous they were? The words hit you like blows, but you understood the source of their anger. It was fear disguised as frustration, born from the agony they'd endured while believing you were dead. And though their scolding stung, it was underscored by a simple truth: they were just grateful to have you home.

For a brief time, it felt like life might return to normal. You tried to fall back into old routines, helping out around the house, making small talk at dinner, and even considering the possibility of returning to school. But nothing about you was normal anymore. The cosmic energy flowing through your veins wasn't something you could hide forever.

At first, the signs were subtle—a glowing fingertip here, a static hum in the air when you were nervous—but it quickly escalated. Your emotions became dangerous triggers. A flash of frustration could send a burst of energy surging from your hands, while excitement might cause objects to levitate or shatter. Despite your best efforts to suppress it, your powers were volatile and unpredictable. You knew you were losing control, and worse, your family was beginning to notice.

Then there was LexCorp. They weren't content to let you slip through their fingers. Just weeks after your return, strange cars began appearing near your house, their darkened windows reflecting nothing but menace. Agents loitered on the edges of your property, their suits sharp and their gazes sharper. They didn't bother hiding their intentions, occasionally knocking on the door with thinly veiled threats, demanding to know where you were. Their intimidation tactics grew bolder by the day, turning your home into a pressure cooker of fear and tension.

The breaking point came during an argument with your father. He had been on edge since your return, and his concern for your future boiled over when you mentioned wanting to go back to school. He insisted it wasn't safe—not for you, and not for anyone around you. But you were desperate for a shred of normalcy, and the argument escalated until it was loud enough to rattle the windows.

And then it happened. In a flash of frustration, you lost control. A surge of cosmic energy erupted from you, sending your father flying across the room. He hit the wall hard, slumping to the floor in stunned silence. Thankfully, he wasn't seriously hurt, but the look on his face—the mixture of fear and disbelief—broke something inside you. He wasn't looking at his son anymore. He was looking at a stranger, someone dangerous, someone he couldn't protect.

You knew then that you couldn't stay. As much as you loved your family, as much as they loved you, you were a threat to their safety. And LexCorp's shadow looming over them only made things worse. You couldn't protect them here—not from yourself, and not from the enemies you'd made.

Desperate and unsure of what else to do, you made a decision that felt surreal: you called Batman. The fact that you even had the means to summon the Dark Knight was a strange reminder of how far your life had strayed from normalcy. When he answered, his voice was as calm and precise as ever. After you explained the situation, he listened quietly before offering a solution.

Batman extended an invitation—or perhaps a directive. He offered you a place at The Cave, a secret base for young heroes and sidekicks under the mentorship of the Justice League. It wasn't just a sanctuary; it was a training ground. There, you could learn to control your powers, defend yourself, and face the enemies who would inevitably come for you. It wasn't a retreat—it was an enlistment into a dangerous new world.

The Cave was unlike anything you'd imagined. Hidden beneath layers of earth and stone, it buzzed with cutting-edge technology and the faint hum of activity. This wasn't just a hideout—it was a hub for covert operations. The young heroes who called it home were unlike anyone you'd ever met. Aqualad, Robin, Kid Flash, and others moved through the space with confidence, their actions precise and their camaraderie sharp-edged. They weren't just kids—they were warriors in training, bearing the weight of their mentors' legacies.

You felt out of place among them, like an outsider in a world where everyone else already knew their role. They were fast, skilled, and experienced, while you were still struggling to keep your powers in check. But this was your new home, your new reality. It wasn't what you wanted—far from it—but maybe it was what you needed. Here, under Batman's watchful eye and surrounded by others who understood the burden of extraordinary abilities, you had a chance to find stability.

This was no ordinary life, but then again, you were no ordinary person anymore. You weren't just a kid trying to fix your family's problems. You were something more—a fledgling hero, a potential force for good. And as you stood in the Cave, surrounded by the hum of advanced technology and the determined faces of your new teammates, you realized this wasn't the end of your story. It was only the beginning.

Among the chaos, one thing brought you a measure of comfort: seeing Project Kr, now going by the name Conner. The sight of his familiar face, stoic as ever, made the adjustment a little easier. For Conner, the surprise was mutual. He hadn't expected to see you again, and though his expression didn't betray much, you could tell he was glad to have someone he recognized.

For you, it felt like a lifeline. You had barely interacted with the team members who had freed you—Kid Flash, Robin, and Aqualad—and they were already deep into their missions and camaraderie. While they were friendly enough, their bond made you feel like the odd one out. But Conner was different. He wasn't a polished hero or an experienced team player; he was just trying to figure things out, much like you. That small connection eased some of the tension.

Not long after settling in, you were introduced to two more members of the team: Artemis and M'gann. Artemis, with her sharp wit and cool confidence, made an immediate impression. She wasn't one to sugarcoat her words, and her tough exterior initially made her seem intimidating. But there was something about her—an edge of vulnerability beneath the bravado—that suggested she understood what it meant to fight for your place in a world that doubted you.

Then there was M'gann, or Miss Martian, who was the complete opposite. Her warmth and enthusiasm were like a burst of sunlight in the dim, serious atmosphere of the Cave. She greeted you with a beaming smile and an openness that immediately put you at ease. Her curiosity about you was genuine, and she made an effort to include you in conversations and activities, even when you felt like retreating into the background.

It didn't take long for you to realize how different each member of the team was. Robin was quick-witted and a little cocky but clearly brilliant; Kid Flash was an endless source of energy and humor; Aqualad carried himself with a calm, commanding presence that made him seem like the glue holding the group together. Conner, however, was still figuring out where he fit, much like you.

Through all of this, Conner remained a steady presence. While he wasn't one for long conversations, his quiet support was reassuring. Occasionally, the two of you would exchange a few words about Cadmus, your powers, or just the strange twists your lives had taken. Those moments of familiarity in an otherwise unfamiliar world kept you grounded.

Artemis and M'gann quickly became part of your routine as well. Artemis was the one who pushed you during training, challenging you to step up and prove yourself. M'gann, on the other hand, helped you feel like part of the team, her kindness and patience making the transition easier. Slowly but surely, you began to feel like you belonged—not just as someone seeking refuge, but as a true member of something bigger.

In your free time, you and Conner began spending more and more time together, falling into an easy, natural rhythm that neither of you had expected. At first, it was just casual conversations, catching up on everything that had happened since Cadmus. You talked about the weeks you'd been apart—how he'd adjusted to life at The Cave, how you'd wrestled with your powers and the lingering guilt of your escape. Those chats were brief but meaningful, moments of quiet connection amid the constant chaos of life as young heroes. But before long, they became something you both craved—moments of solace that grounded you in ways nothing else could.

It was impossible not to notice how much Conner had changed. He was still the strong, silent type, but there was a new layer to him now, a quiet confidence that made him seem more centered. Gone was the unsteady, uncertain figure you'd met in the depths of Cadmus. In his place was someone learning to take control of his life, to find his place in the world. That growth only deepened your respect for him, and soon, your conversations began to shift. What started as small talk about training sessions or team dynamics turned into late-night discussions about your fears, your hopes, and the strange, winding paths that had led you both to this point.

It felt effortless, natural, like you could say anything to Conner without fear of judgment. He listened in a way few others did—quietly, intently, as if every word you spoke carried weight. And when he opened up in return, you could feel the trust he was placing in you, each admission a window into the person he was becoming. The bond between you deepened with every conversation, and it didn't take long for you to realize that what you felt for Conner wasn't just friendship. It was something much more profound, something that scared and exhilarated you all at once.

You couldn't ignore it anymore. How could you, when every glance he gave you seemed to linger a little longer than it should, when every brush of his hand against yours sent a shiver down your spine? Those piercing ocean-blue eyes seemed to see straight through you, leaving you breathless and flustered in ways you hadn't experienced before. And then there was his physique—broad shoulders, a chiseled frame, and strength that felt almost mythical. You'd caught glimpses of him without a shirt during training, and those moments had a habit of staying with you, replaying in your mind at the most inconvenient times.

But it wasn't just his looks. It was everything about him—the way he could calm your nerves with a simple look, the way he listened to you ramble about the smallest details of your day, the way his presence made you feel safe in a way you hadn't felt since before Cadmus. Even his infamous temper, which should have been a warning sign, only drew you closer. You'd seen the fire in him, but you'd also seen the way he softened around you, the way your words could bring him back from the edge when no one else could.

And then there were the little things: waking up in the morning with thoughts of Conner already swirling in your mind, the sound of his voice echoing in your head long after he'd spoken, the way his rare but radiant smile could make your heart race. It wasn't just a crush—it was something deeper, something undeniable. You were falling for him, hard, and every moment you spent with him only solidified that truth.

Unbeknownst to you, Conner was wrestling with similar feelings. At first, he didn't understand what he was experiencing. Emotions were still a foreign concept to him, something he was learning to navigate, but the more time he spent with you, the clearer it became. The way his heart leapt when you smiled, the way your laughter could cut through the anger he so often struggled to contain, the way his pulse quickened every time you touched his arm—it all pointed to one undeniable fact: you weren't just a friend. You were someone who made him feel alive.

He began gravitating toward you without even realizing it. Whether it was during training sessions, missions, or quiet moments in The Cave, he found excuses to be near you. He volunteered to partner with you whenever possible and couldn't help but let his protective instincts take over whenever you were in danger, even though he knew you could handle yourself. It wasn't just habit—it was something deeper, something he couldn't deny no matter how hard he tried.

The rest of the team noticed almost immediately. The chemistry between the two of you was impossible to ignore, and it quickly became the subject of playful teasing. Kid Flash, ever the joker, took every opportunity to comment on the "will-they-won't-they drama," making exaggerated bets on how long it would take for one of you to confess. Robin smirked knowingly but kept his thoughts to himself, while Artemis alternated between amusement and light encouragement, often giving you both subtle nudges to just admit your feelings already.

But not everyone was thrilled. M'gann, who had her own complicated feelings for Conner, watched the growing connection with thinly veiled jealousy. She tried to hide it, putting on a brave face and pretending everything was fine, but her envy was apparent. It cast a shadow over the group dynamic, one that you and Conner both felt but didn't know how to address.

Despite the teasing, the jealousy, and the unspoken tension, nothing could stop what was building between you and Conner. Every shared glance, every accidental touch, every late-night conversation brought you closer to the inevitable. The feelings between you were too strong to ignore, and sooner or later, one of you would have to take the leap. Because this wasn't just a fleeting crush—it was something unstoppable, something that had already started to change both of you in ways you couldn't begin to explain.

The weight of your emotions kept both of you tethered in uncertainty. That is, until one quiet evening when the truth could no longer be contained.

It had been a long, grueling day at The Cave. Training sessions had pushed everyone to their limits, and the tension among the team was palpable. You needed a break from the relentless chaos, and as if reading your mind, Conner had suggested a walk along the beach near the cliffs. Without hesitation, you agreed. Wolf, his ever-loyal companion, bounded ahead, his paws leaving faint imprints in the sand as he explored the shoreline. Occasionally, he would stop and glance back, his amber eyes checking to make sure you were both keeping up.

The sun was beginning its slow descent, painting the sky in fiery hues of orange, pink, and gold. The ocean mirrored the colors, its surface shimmering like liquid light as waves crashed rhythmically against the shore. A gentle breeze carried the salty tang of the sea, tugging lightly at your clothes and hair. The two of you walked in comfortable silence, the only sounds the soft crunch of sand beneath your feet and the distant calls of seabirds.

It was a moment of rare peace, one that felt almost too perfect to be real. For once, there were no missions looming, no training drills to face, no external pressures demanding your attention—just the two of you and the endless horizon.

Conner was the first to break the silence. His voice, quiet and contemplative, barely rose above the sound of the waves. "You know," he began, his gaze fixed on the distant ocean, "a lot has changed since I left Cadmus." There was a hesitance in his tone, as if he were still trying to piece his thoughts together. "Back then, everything was simple. Not in a good way, just... empty. I followed orders. Did what I was told. I didn't think about anything beyond that."

You glanced at him but stayed silent, sensing that this was something he needed to say in his own time. His jaw tightened briefly, and he ran a hand through his hair, his expression flickering with uncertainty. "Since then, I've learned a lot—about myself, about the world, about what it means to... choose who you want to be." He hesitated, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "And about what I want."

The confession caught you off guard, your chest tightening as his words sank in. Conner glanced at you, his ocean-blue eyes filled with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. "Sometimes, it's overwhelming," he admitted, his voice dropping lower. "I feel like I'm always trying to catch up, to figure out who I'm supposed to be, what I'm supposed to do. But when I'm with you..." He stopped walking, turning to face you fully.

The wind ruffled his dark hair, and the fading sunlight bathed him in a golden glow that made his chiseled features look almost unreal. For a moment, he just looked at you, his expression soft but intense, as if searching for the right words.

"When I'm with you," he continued, his voice steady now, "everything feels... clear. Like none of the confusion or doubt matters. Like I can just be."

Your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. The air around you felt charged, the world shrinking until it was just the two of you. Before you could respond, Conner took a small step closer, the sand shifting beneath his boots.

"I don't know how else to say this, so I'm just going to say it," he said, his voice firmer now, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. "I love you."

The words hit you like a tidal wave, stealing the breath from your lungs. He stood there, raw and unguarded, every wall he'd ever built stripped away in this one, vulnerable moment. "I didn't realize it at first," he continued, his voice quieter now, as if the confession itself had drained some of his resolve. "But I do. I love you. And it's not just some fleeting feeling—it's real. It's... everything."

The world seemed to stop. The waves, the wind, even Wolf's distant barking faded into the background. All you could see, all you could hear, was Conner standing before you, his words hanging in the air like the last rays of sunlight on the horizon. He looked at you with a mixture of hope and fear, his hands hanging uncertainly at his sides, as though he didn't quite know what to do with them.

"I love you," he repeated, softer this time, as if reaffirming it to himself. "And I don't care if it's messy or complicated. I just... I had to tell you."

It was then that you realized your hands were trembling, your emotions a whirlwind of shock, joy, and disbelief. You had imagined this moment so many times, but nothing could have prepared you for the sheer weight of hearing those words spoken aloud. For the vulnerability in his voice, the raw emotion etched into his features.

"Conner..." you began, your voice catching in your throat. His name felt like a lifeline, grounding you in this moment that felt too big, too important, to fully comprehend. You stepped closer, your trembling hands finding their way to his. The warmth of his touch steadied you, his calloused fingers gently enclosing yours as if to anchor you both.

Looking into his eyes, you saw everything you needed to say reflected back at you—the trust, the connection, the undeniable truth of what you both felt. And as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the world in twilight, you realized that this wasn't just a moment of confession. It was the beginning of something new, something real, and something worth holding onto.

"I love you too," you whispered, and the smile that broke across Conner's face was brighter than the fading light of the setting sun.

The confession lingered between you like a fragile thread, heavy with emotion yet pulsing with potential. For a long moment, neither of you moved, the weight of Conner's words and the silent tension locking you both in place. His piercing blue eyes searched yours, as though trying to read your thoughts, his vulnerability exposed in a way you had never seen before. Then, as if something inside him shifted, Conner took a step closer—close enough for the warmth of his body to cut through the cool ocean breeze.

He didn't speak. He didn't need to. The intensity in his gaze said everything. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned in, his movements careful, giving you every opportunity to step back, to stop what was about to happen. But you didn't. Your feet stayed rooted in the sand, your heart hammering wildly in your chest as the world around you seemed to fall away. The rhythmic crash of the waves, the distant cries of seagulls, even the faint sound of Wolf panting nearby—all of it faded into nothing. There was only Conner, and the way he made the air between you feel electric.

And then his lips met yours.

The kiss was everything you hadn't realized you were waiting for. It was slow at first, tentative, like the beginning of a story you both wanted to savor. But it didn't stay that way for long. As the initial hesitation melted away, the kiss deepened, growing in intensity. There was a passion behind it, a rawness that spoke of everything the two of you had been holding back for so long. His lips were soft yet firm, his movements deliberate but hungry, as though he were pouring every unsaid word, every pent-up emotion, into this one perfect moment.

His hands, rough and calloused from endless training, moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing gently against your cheeks. The tenderness of the gesture contrasted with the fervor of the kiss, and it sent a shiver through you. It was as though he were afraid to let you go, afraid you might vanish if he didn't hold on tight enough. You leaned into his touch, your own hands instinctively finding their way to his shoulders, gripping him as if to anchor yourself in the surging tide of emotions threatening to sweep you away.

The kiss deepened further, and Conner pulled you closer, his strong arms wrapping around your waist. The feel of him—the strength, the warmth, the sheer presence—was overwhelming. His body pressed against yours, solid and steady, making you feel both consumed and protected all at once. You could feel the faint, steady thrum of his heartbeat against your chest, a grounding reminder that this moment was real, that he was real.

Your own hands slid up to the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kissed him back with everything you had. Each movement, each touch, felt charged, electric. It wasn't just passion; it was love—raw, unfiltered, and impossible to contain. The connection between you seemed to hum with a life of its own, as if the universe had been holding its breath for this exact moment.

Conner tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss further as his hands tightened around your waist, holding you close but still gentle, still careful. His touch sent warmth radiating through you, a heat that spread from where his hands rested to the very tips of your fingers. You felt as though you might burst from the sheer intensity of it all, yet you didn't want it to end.

And then, reluctantly, the two of you broke apart, gasping softly as you both remembered the need to breathe. Conner didn't move far. His forehead came to rest gently against yours, his breath warm and uneven as he tried to steady himself. His eyes remained closed for a moment, a soft smile curving his lips—a smile so rare, so full of affection, it made your chest ache.

When his eyes finally opened, they were filled with a tenderness that made your knees weak. He didn't speak right away, and neither did you. Words felt unnecessary in the face of everything that had just passed between you. Instead, he lifted a hand, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek, as if to confirm to himself that you were still there, still real.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time," he finally admitted, his voice low and almost shy, a sharp contrast to the confident strength he usually carried. The vulnerability in his tone only made your heart swell further.

"So have I," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the soft crash of the waves. The words carried a weight of truth that made him smile again, his rare, breathtaking smile that seemed to light up the darkening horizon.

For a while, neither of you moved, content to stay locked in this moment. His arms remained around you, holding you close as the ocean breeze swirled around you both. Wolf's distant bark brought a faint laugh from Conner, the sound rumbling low in his chest as he finally pulled back, though his hands never left your waist.

Standing there, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, you felt as though the world had shifted. The tension that had lingered between you for weeks, the unspoken feelings that had hung in the air, were gone. In their place was something real, something steady.

And in that moment, as you gazed into Conner's eyes and saw nothing but affection and certainty reflected back at you, you knew one thing for sure: this was only the beginning.

From that day on, everything changed. The kiss on the beach didn't just mark the start of your relationship—it was the foundation for something transformative, something neither of you had fully realized you were missing until that moment. You and Conner became inseparable, building a bond that was as powerful as it was tender. Over the next five years, your lives intertwined as you grew together, navigating the complexities of both hero life and the challenges of adulthood.

The beginning of your relationship was an adjustment period, filled with both excitement and learning curves. Conner wasn't the most expressive person when it came to words, but his actions spoke volumes. He showed his love in the quiet, meaningful ways that only he could. Whether it was standing protectively closer to you during tense missions, slipping you a cup of coffee just the way you liked it after a grueling training session, or silently sitting by your side during long, quiet evenings, his devotion was clear.

Conner wasn't one for grand romantic gestures, but the little things made up for it. He remembered details about you that no one else did—your favorite music, the way you liked to unwind after a stressful day, the exact spot on your shoulder that was always sore after combat training. His love wasn't loud or flashy, but it was steady and undeniable.

Of course, it wasn't perfect. Adjusting to each other's quirks and differences wasn't always easy. Conner's occasional temper and your own stubborn streak led to clashes, sometimes over the smallest things—who forgot to clean up after training, or which of you deserved the last slice of pizza after a long mission. Other arguments ran deeper, rooted in the immense pressure both of you faced as heroes. Sometimes Conner would shut down emotionally, retreating into himself when he felt overwhelmed. Other times, you'd push yourself too hard, refusing to admit when you needed help. But no matter how heated or difficult things became, the two of you always found a way to reconcile, your love proving stronger than any disagreement.

Not everyone was thrilled about your relationship—M'gann, in particular. It was no secret that she had feelings for Conner, and the announcement of your relationship hit her hard. Though she wasn't openly hostile, the tension was undeniable. At first, her actions were subtle: lingering a little too long in conversations with Conner, finding excuses to partner with him during missions, or offering advice that felt far more personal than professional. Her glances toward you were sharp, her words clipped and frosty whenever you were around.

You tried not to let it bother you, but there were moments of doubt. M'gann was stunningly beautiful, effortlessly charismatic, and had a connection with Conner from the early days of his life outside Cadmus. Part of you couldn't help but wonder if she could offer him something you couldn't. But Conner's loyalty never wavered. He made it clear where his heart lay, whether by politely but firmly shutting down M'gann's attempts or simply moving closer to you during team gatherings, taking your hand in his and grounding you in the reassurance of his presence.

Over time, M'gann began to accept the reality of your relationship. Her attempts to win Conner over became less frequent, and while the tension between you two never completely disappeared, it faded into the background. Eventually, her focus shifted toward her own growth, and though your relationship with her would never be warm, it settled into a quiet indifference. She became a minor distraction compared to the love and connection you shared with Conner.

As the months passed, you and Conner faced countless challenges together, each one shaping the bond between you. Life as young heroes wasn't easy—the missions were grueling, the stakes high, and the sacrifices often painful. But through it all, you were each other's constant. You celebrated victories together, no matter how small, and offered comfort during moments of doubt and loss. Conner's quiet strength became your anchor, while your unwavering support helped him find his footing in a world that often felt too complicated and overwhelming.

When life outside the team came calling, you tackled those challenges together too. From figuring out how to balance hero duties with the mundane struggles of daily life to simply learning what it meant to grow into yourselves, you became each other's greatest ally. On the days when it felt like the weight of the world was too much, Conner would pull you into his arms, his steady heartbeat reminding you that you weren't alone. And on the nights when his own doubts crept in, you were there to remind him of his worth, of the incredible man he had become.

Then five years passed in what felt like the blink of an eye. You went from two unsure teenagers navigating the chaos of the team to adults who had found not just strength in one another, but a deep and abiding love that had weathered every storm. There were still challenges, of course—every relationship has them—but the foundation you'd built together was unshakable.

The connection that began in the sterile halls of Cadmus had blossomed into something extraordinary. Conner wasn't just your boyfriend—he was your partner in every sense of the word. He was the person who stood by your side in battle, the one who held you close when the nightmares came, the one who believed in you even on the days when you struggled to believe in yourself.

And you weren't just his boyfriend—you were his rock, his constant in a world that had once seemed so alien and confusing. You gave him a sense of purpose, of belonging, that he'd never known before. Together, you had built a life filled with love, trust, and the unshakable certainty that, no matter what challenges lay ahead, you could face them as long as you had each other.

What began as a quiet connection had grown into a love that was steady, powerful, and enduring. Conner was your home, and you were his. And as you looked toward the future, you knew that whatever storms came your way, you would weather them together. Always.

You two had grown into your roles as senior members of the now-expanded Team, a transformation that felt both surreal and inevitable. What had started as a small, tight-knit group of young heroes had evolved into a sprawling organization with dozens of recruits, each bringing their own unique powers, personalities, and challenges. It was a far cry from the days when you and Conner were the rookies, scrambling to keep up with the veterans. Now, you stood among the most experienced, entrusted with leading the next generation of heroes and steering them through the chaos of their missions.

Stepping into leadership roles hadn't been easy at first. The weight of responsibility was daunting, especially when you remembered your own early missteps. But with time, you both found your footing, developing your own distinct styles as leaders. Conner's leadership was natural, almost effortless. His steady presence and unshakable sense of duty made him a rock for his squadron. He commanded respect without demanding it, his quiet authority inspiring trust and loyalty. Conner was the kind of leader who always showed up—whether it was to guide his team through a perilous mission or to quietly offer a word of encouragement to a struggling recruit.

Your leadership style was different but no less effective. Where Conner's strength lay in his consistency and calm, you excelled at connecting with your squad on a deeper level. You had a gift for understanding people, seeing their potential even when they couldn't. Your approach combined empathy with just the right amount of tough love, pushing your team to grow while making sure they always felt supported. You understood the importance of believing in someone, of showing them they could succeed even when the odds felt impossible. Your recruits respected you not just as a leader, but as someone who truly cared about their success.

Despite the demands of leadership, the dynamic between you and Conner remained as strong as ever. Though your duties often pulled you in different directions, you always found time to collaborate. Whether it was during strategy meetings, debriefing after missions, or those quiet moments when you both needed to vent about the latest recruit who thought they could "go solo," you leaned on each other. You balanced each other perfectly—Conner's pragmatic approach grounded you, while your empathetic perspective often helped him see angles he might have overlooked. Together, you made a formidable team, both in and out of the field.

The new normal was a far cry from the uncertain days of your early years with the Team. Back then, you'd felt like you were constantly running to catch up, to prove yourself. Now, you and Conner had become the ones others turned to for guidance. It was a strange realization at first, but also deeply rewarding. You weren't just fighting battles anymore—you were shaping the future, mentoring the next generation of heroes who would one day carry the mantle.

That didn't mean it was easy. The new recruits were a mixed bag, as new recruits always are. Some were eager but reckless, driven by the need to prove themselves in ways that often landed them in trouble. Others were more cautious, unsure of their abilities and hesitant to take risks. And then there were those who chafed under authority, testing the limits of your patience. Each recruit brought their own challenges, and managing them required different approaches.

Conner handled the rebellious ones with his usual no-nonsense attitude. He didn't tolerate excuses or slacking, but he was also fair, quick to recognize hard work and improvement. His squad knew where they stood with him, and while his methods were sometimes intimidating, they were undeniably effective. You, on the other hand, excelled at breaking through the walls recruits often put up, finding ways to reach even the most difficult personalities. You had a knack for making them feel seen and valued, which often helped smooth over the rough edges.

You and Conner frequently swapped strategies, often during late-night conversations in the Cave or on rare quiet evenings at home. These moments were a reminder of how well you worked together, your different styles complementing rather than clashing. You didn't always agree—Conner's straightforward, discipline-focused approach sometimes clashed with your more empathetic methods—but your shared goal of keeping the team safe and prepared always brought you back to the same page.

Conner had just wrapped up one of the most grueling missions he'd faced in weeks, tracking Clayface through the rancid, labyrinthine sewers beneath Gotham City. The mission had been long, messy, and exhausting. With Nightwing leading the operation, the team had managed to corner and neutralize Clayface, but not without a few close calls—and plenty of exposure to Gotham's less-than-pleasant underbelly. By the time they returned to the Cave, the stench of sewage clung stubbornly to Conner, his clothes ruined and his mood sour.

After a quick debrief in the command center, Conner wasted no time heading to the showers. The hot water was a welcome relief, scalding away the grime and the memory of slogging through filth. He scrubbed at his skin with almost aggressive determination, muttering under his breath about how the smell refused to go away. Finally, after what felt like forever, he emerged clean and refreshed, droplets of water still clinging to his short hair and glistening on his skin.

He made his way to your shared room in the Cave, his fatigue weighing heavy on him. The door creaked open, and as he stepped inside, the sight before him made every ounce of stress from the day begin to fade. You were lounging on the bed, wearing one of his black T-shirts, the oversized fabric swallowing your frame and hanging down to your thighs. It was comically large on you, but that only made it more endearing. You sat cross-legged, utterly engrossed in the book resting in your lap, your brow furrowed slightly as you turned the page.

At the sound of the door opening, you looked up, your expression softening instantly into a warm, affectionate smile. "Hey," you said, your voice light and soothing, as though you'd been waiting for him all day.

A small but genuine smile tugged at the corners of Conner's lips. "Hey," he replied, his voice still low and gravelly from exhaustion. Without a moment's hesitation, he crossed the room and climbed onto the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. He didn't bother with words, didn't ask for permission—he simply made his way to you, resting his head on your stomach as he settled himself between your legs. His damp hair pressed against the fabric of the T-shirt you wore, the coolness of it a stark contrast to the warmth of your skin beneath. His strong arms slid around your waist, pulling you close as though anchoring himself to you.

You didn't need to ask what he needed. Over the years, you'd come to understand Conner's unspoken language. He wasn't one to articulate his emotions easily, but his actions said more than words ever could. The way his body relaxed against yours, the way his breath slowed, and the way his grip on your waist tightened slightly—it all told you exactly what he was seeking: comfort, grounding, and the peace that only you could provide.

Your hand moved instinctively to his hair, your fingers threading gently through the damp strands. You stroked with slow, deliberate motions, your touch light but firm, knowing how much he loved this simple gesture. Conner let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, the tension visibly melting from his body. His arms flexed briefly around your waist, pulling you just a little closer, as though to ensure you wouldn't slip away.

"Tough mission?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper as your fingers continued their soothing rhythm.

Conner hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes half-lidded as he let himself relax fully against you. "Clayface. Sewers. You can probably imagine the rest," he muttered, his tone laced with weariness.

You chuckled lightly, the sound vibrating gently against his cheek where it rested on your stomach. "Yikes," you teased. "Bet that smelled like roses."

A faint smirk tugged at his lips, his dry humor peeking through despite his exhaustion. "Yeah, real refreshing," he murmured, his voice softer now. "Definitely one for the books."

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that came so naturally after years of being together. The sounds of the Cave—distant footsteps, the hum of machinery—faded into the background. You set your book aside, your attention fully on Conner now, your hand never ceasing its slow, comforting movements through his hair. His breathing grew steadier, his shoulders losing the last remnants of their tension as he melted into you completely.

The quiet intimacy of the moment wrapped around you like a warm cocoon. Conner's grip on you was secure but gentle, his presence grounding you just as much as you grounded him. You couldn't help but smile as you looked down at him, his face peaceful and relaxed in a way that made your heart ache with love. These were the moments you cherished most—the quiet, unspoken ones where words weren't necessary, where just being together was enough to make the world feel right.

As the minutes stretched on, you leaned down to press a soft kiss to his temple, your lips lingering against his skin. Conner responded with a barely audible hum of contentment, his arms tightening briefly around your waist before relaxing again.

"You want a massage?" you asked softly, your fingers threading gently through Conner's damp hair. His head rested heavily on your stomach, his body fully relaxed against yours, and the rhythmic motion of your hand seemed to ease away the tension he carried after his grueling mission. His eyes were half-closed, his breathing steady, and for a moment, it seemed like he might drift off completely.

He didn't reply right away, as if weighing the question or simply savoring the comfort of the moment. Then, slowly, a familiar smirk crept onto his lips—the kind that sent a shiver of anticipation through you every time you saw it. His ocean-blue eyes fluttered open, the corners crinkling with mischief as he tilted his head slightly to look up at you.

"Nah," he murmured, his voice low and edged with a playful undertone that made your heart skip a beat. "But I do have another idea."

You raised an eyebrow, feigning suspicion, though your pulse quickened at the teasing glint in his eyes. "Oh? And what idea might that be, Mr. Kent?" you teased, your fingers momentarily pausing in his hair as you waited for his response.

Conner shifted lazily, propping himself up on his elbows so that he could get a better look at you. His smirk widened as his gaze swept over you, taking in the sight of you curled up on the bed, still wearing his oversized black T-shirt that fell just above your thighs. The amusement in his expression was almost predatory, his eyes darkening slightly as they met yours.

He didn't answer right away, letting the silence stretch. His hand moved with deliberate slowness, brushing against your thigh in a way that sent a jolt of warmth through you. His fingertips lingered, tracing idle patterns on your skin, the touch both teasing and intimate.

"Well," he drawled at last, his voice dipping into that deep, gravelly tone that always made your stomach flutter. "I was thinking..." He trailed off, leaning in closer, his face just inches from yours now. The smirk softened into something more tender but no less dangerous as his hand slid up your leg, his palm coming to rest firmly on your hip. "Maybe we could do something a little... more fun."

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up, a mix of nervous energy and anticipation. "More fun?" you echoed, your hands instinctively moving to his shoulders, your fingertips grazing the solid warmth of his muscles beneath his shirt. "And what exactly do you have in mind, Conner?"

His chuckle rumbled low in his chest, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. He leaned in even closer, his forehead nearly brushing yours, his breath warm against your skin. "Why don't I show you?" he murmured, the suggestion laced with affection as much as mischief.

Before you could respond, he moved with effortless strength, his arms tightening around you as he shifted your positions in one fluid motion. You let out a surprised gasp as he flipped you onto your back, pinning you gently beneath him. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and the warmth of his body enveloped you as he braced himself above you.

His smirk was back, but there was a tenderness in his gaze now, a softness that made your breath catch. His hand remained on your hip, his thumb brushing gently over the fabric of the shirt you wore—his shirt. "You've been taking care of me all night," he said softly, his voice quieter now, laced with gratitude and something deeper. "I think it's my turn to take care of you."

Your heart raced as his lips found yours, the kiss starting slow, almost reverent. His mouth moved against yours with a tenderness that sent warmth blooming through your chest, but it didn't take long for the kiss to deepen. The passion that simmered beneath his calm exterior broke through, his lips pressing against yours more firmly, his hand sliding from your hip to the small of your back to pull you even closer.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, still slightly damp from his shower, as you kissed him back with equal fervor. Every movement, every touch felt electric, the world narrowing to just the two of you. Conner's weight above you was grounding, his warmth seeping into you, his presence wrapping around you like a cocoon.

He broke the kiss just long enough to meet your gaze, his forehead resting against yours as his breath came uneven. His eyes, now darker with emotion, held a mixture of love and desire that made your heart swell. "You're all I need," he whispered, the words so soft you almost didn't hear them over the sound of your own pounding heartbeat.

You smiled, your hands sliding down to his shoulders as you pulled him back down for another kiss. "Then don't let me go," you murmured against his lips, your voice just as quiet but filled with all the affection you felt.

Conner didn't reply with words—he didn't need to. The way his arms wrapped around you, the way his lips moved against yours, the way he held you as though you were the most precious thing in the world—it all spoke louder than anything he could have said. And in that moment, with the warmth of him pressed against you and the world fading into the background, you knew there was nowhere else you'd rather be.

His rough, calloused fingers slid beneath the hem of the oversized black shirt you wore—his shirt, which hung on your frame like a dress. The fabric bunched slightly as his hands traveled upward, the contrast of his warm touch against your skin sending shivers down your spine.

His movements were unhurried, almost teasing, as though he wanted to savor every moment. His eyes stayed locked on yours, the intensity in his ocean-blue gaze making your breath hitch. When his fingers found the waistband of your underwear, he paused, his lips quirking into a playful smile as though silently asking for permission. The anticipation was electric, crackling in the air between you.

You nodded, barely able to contain the heat rising in your body. That was all the confirmation Conner needed. Slowly, he slid your underwear down, his fingers grazing your hips and thighs as he removed the final barrier between you. The sensation was maddeningly soft, yet charged with an undeniable intimacy that left you feeling completely exposed—and utterly desired.

As your underwear slipped away, Conner's hand trailed back up, his touch firm yet gentle as his fingers brushed against your dick. His palm enveloped you, his grip warm and steady, and the simple act sent a surge of pleasure coursing through you. His movements were slow at first, deliberate, as if he were mapping every inch of you, learning the way your body responded to his touch.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against the curve of your jaw before murmuring in a low, husky tone, "You're perfect, you know that?"

The words made your pulse race, your heart pounding in your chest. Conner's gaze softened, though the intensity never wavered, and his hand moved with practiced care, each touch sending waves of pleasure rippling through you. There was something deeply intimate about the moment—more than just the physical connection, it was the way he looked at you, as if you were the only person in the world who mattered.

The shirt you wore—his shirt—slipped further up as he moved, exposing more of you to him. His free hand slid around your waist, holding you in place, anchoring you to him as his movements became more deliberate. The warmth of his touch, the weight of his body pressing against yours, and the sheer love in his gaze all combined to create a moment that felt nothing short of breathtaking.

"Conner..." you breathed, your voice barely a whisper as you felt yourself surrender completely to him. He smiled at the sound of your voice, leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss that was as passionate as it was tender.

His hand moved with deliberate slowness, sliding up and down your dick in a rhythm that was maddeningly precise, designed to make you unravel beneath his touch. The heat of his palm, the strength of his grip—firm but never rough—had your body responding instinctively, arching slightly into his hand as your breath hitched.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his deep voice dropping to a low, husky whisper that made your entire body tremble.

"You're so hard for me," he murmured, his words laced with a teasing edge that sent a flush of heat straight to your cheeks. His tone was rough, raw with desire, but there was also a playful affection in the way he spoke, like he loved seeing how easily you came undone in his hands.

"Look at you," he continued, his voice like velvet, each word dripping with intent. His grip tightened slightly as he stroked you, the added pressure drawing a quiet moan from your lips. "You're so perfect like this—so needy. You like when I touch you, don't you?"

Your heart raced, your breaths coming faster as his words hit you like a spark to kindling. Conner's hand never faltered, moving in a steady rhythm that left you teetering on the edge of control. He pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot just below your ear before continuing, his voice filled with a delicious mixture of command and tenderness.

"Every inch of you belongs to me," he whispered, his lips brushing against your skin with every word. "And I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

His free hand slid around your back, pulling you closer to him, as though he couldn't stand even a fraction of space between you. The heat of his body pressed against yours was overwhelming, and the way his words filled your ear—dirty, possessive, and utterly irresistible—made it impossible to focus on anything else.

"You're mine," he growled softly, the roughness in his voice sending another shiver down your spine. "And I'll make you feel so good you won't be able to think about anyone but me."

Every touch, every word, every deliberate stroke of his hand was a symphony of pleasure, building higher and higher until you felt like you might explode from the sheer intensity of it. Conner's lips brushed against your neck now, his teeth grazing your skin lightly as he whispered one final promise, his hand moving just a little faster, driving you closer to the brink.

"Let go for me," he murmured, his voice a mixture of command and reassurance. "I want to feel you completely lose control—just for me."

And with that, the overwhelming combination of his touch, his words, and his presence pushed you over the edge, your body surrendering completely to the man who held you like you were his entire world.

The tension in your body built to an almost unbearable peak, every nerve alight as Conner's skilled hand continued its deliberate rhythm. His grip, his pace, the heat of his touch—it was all too much and not enough at the same time. Your breath quickened, a series of soft gasps and quiet moans escaping your lips as you felt yourself spiraling closer and closer to the edge.

Conner must have sensed it, because his lips found their way back to your ear, his voice a low, sultry murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. "That's it," he whispered, his tone both commanding and tender. "Don't hold back. Let me feel you."

His words were your undoing. The tension coiled deep inside you snapped all at once, and you cried out softly, your body arching instinctively into his hand as you reached your climax. A rush of heat surged through you, and you felt yourself release, your hot seed spilling over his hand in a wave of pure, unrelenting ecstasy.

Conner didn't stop, his hand slowing just enough to draw out every last pulse of pleasure, his touch grounding you even as your mind reeled. His other arm wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you closer as your body trembled against his.

"That's it," he murmured again, his lips brushing against your neck now, pressing soft kisses to your heated skin. "You're so beautiful when you let go like that."

You couldn't form words, your breath coming in uneven gasps as you tried to steady yourself. Conner's touch became gentler, soothing now, his thumb brushing lightly along your hip as his free hand reached for a nearby cloth to clean you up. His movements were tender, his eyes filled with a quiet affection that made your chest ache.

As he finished, Conner leaned back slightly, his gaze meeting yours. The corners of his lips turned upward in a small, knowing smile, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "You okay?" he asked softly, his voice steady and warm.

You nodded, still catching your breath, and managed a faint smile in return. "More than okay," you murmured, your voice laced with both exhaustion and contentment.

Conner chuckled, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. "Good," he said simply, his tone filled with quiet pride. "Because I'm not done spoiling you yet."

Suddenly, Conner had you straddling his waist, your thighs resting firmly on either side of his hips as his hands roamed over your body with an intensity that made your pulse race. His calloused palms gripped your ass firmly, fingers digging in just enough to leave a lingering warmth against your skin. The strength of his touch sent a shiver through you, a perfect mix of control and affection that made you feel completely consumed by him.

He shifted beneath you slightly, his muscles flexing under your weight as he adjusted your position to pull you even closer. His lips curled into a teasing smirk as his hands tightened on your backside, the possessiveness in his gaze making your breath hitch. Without warning, he raised one hand and brought it down with a sharp, deliberate smack against your ass.

The sudden sting was quickly followed by a rush of heat that spread through your body, the sound of the slap echoing in the room. You gasped softly, the mixture of surprise and pleasure making your body instinctively arch toward him. Conner's smirk grew wider, his ocean-blue eyes darkening with desire as he watched your reaction closely.

"You like that?" he murmured, his voice low and rough, filled with a teasing edge that sent a thrill through you. Before you could respond, his hand came down again, another firm smack that made your skin tingle and your heart race. The way his strong hand lingered afterward, kneading the spot he had just struck, sent shivers down your spine.

He leaned forward, his lips brushing against the curve of your neck as his other hand slid up your back, holding you steady. "You drive me crazy," he whispered against your skin, his voice thick with raw affection and desire. His breath was hot, his kisses deliberate as he nipped lightly at your neck before trailing his tongue along the sensitive area.

His hand on your ass delivered another firm smack, the impact sending a jolt of pleasure through you. "I could do this all night," he muttered, his tone both playful and commanding as his lips moved back to claim yours in a kiss that was as consuming as it was passionate. His grip on you remained firm, his hands alternating between soothing caresses and sharp, tantalizing slaps that kept your body tingling with anticipation.

Every movement, every touch, every deliberate action reminded you just how deeply Conner desired you, his actions a perfect blend of strength, passion, and unwavering affection.

Your body pressed firmly against Conner's, your fingers tangled in his short, dark hair as his lips claimed yours with a fiery intensity. The kiss was deep and unrelenting, filled with passion that made the rest of the world fade into insignificance. Conner's hands gripped your waist firmly, pulling you impossibly closer, as if the space between you was unacceptable.

A low moan escaped your lips, muffled against his, as the heat between you built to an overwhelming crescendo. You felt his lips curve into a small, satisfied smile against your mouth, his body reacting to every sound you made. Breaking the kiss for a brief moment, you tilted your head slightly to whisper in his ear, letting out another soft moan, the sound raw and unfiltered. His sharp intake of breath and the way his grip tightened on you told you exactly how much it affected him.

Just as Conner's lips trailed down to your jawline, leaving a path of slow, deliberate kisses, a loud knock echoed through the room, startling you both. The sound cut through the intimate atmosphere like a knife, and you felt Conner stiffen beneath you, his grip on your waist momentarily freezing.

A low growl of frustration rumbled in his chest as he turned his head toward the door, his expression shifting into one of pure annoyance. Without letting go of you or breaking the connection between your bodies, he raised his voice, his tone sharp and commanding.

"Go away," Conner barked, the edge in his voice leaving no room for argument.

You couldn't help but smile at the irritation lacing his words, finding his reaction both protective and endearing. His attention shifted back to you almost instantly, his hands moving back to your hips as he resumed where he left off, his lips brushing against your neck now.

"They better not knock again," he muttered against your skin, his voice low and full of barely restrained frustration. The way his breath warmed your neck sent shivers down your spine, and the momentary interruption quickly melted away as Conner's focus returned entirely to you.

The knock may have broken the rhythm for a moment, but the intensity between you two reignited almost immediately, pulling you both back into the heat of the moment as if nothing had happened.

Conner's body was taut beneath you, every muscle coiled with tension as the heat between you both continued to build. His breaths came heavier, his chest rising and falling beneath your hands, and you could feel the unmistakable hardness pressing against you. His arousal was evident, firm and insistent, a clear sign of just how much he wanted you.

The way his hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, left no room for doubt. Conner's smirk turned devilish as he shifted slightly beneath you, making you acutely aware of the growing pressure. "You're killing me," he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire, his ocean-blue eyes locked onto yours with a gaze that felt like it could set you on fire.

As you shifted in his lap, the friction only made the tension between you more palpable. His arousal strained against the fabric of his pajamas, firm and ready to break free from its confines. The way his body reacted to every subtle movement of yours sent shivers of anticipation through you, and the intensity in his expression made it clear he wasn't planning on holding back much longer.

His hands slid up your thighs, his touch deliberate and teasing as his lips found their way to your neck once again. "You've got me ready to lose control," he whispered against your skin, his tone filled with equal parts affection and raw, unfiltered want. The promise in his voice was enough to make your heart race as you felt the full extent of his desire, firm and eager to join the moment.

Conner removed his hands from your body briefly, his gaze locked onto yours as he reached for the waistband of his pajamas. The tension in the air was almost palpable, each second feeling like an eternity as he slowly pushed both his pajamas and underwear down in one fluid motion. The fabric slid over his hips, revealing the taut, sculpted muscles of his lower body, every inch of his physique a testament to his raw strength.

And then, there it was—his dick sprang free, standing proudly, thick and fully erect. At nine inches, it was impossible to ignore, commanding attention with its sheer size and firmness. The sight alone sent a rush of heat through your body, making your breath catch in your throat. The way he exuded confidence, his body radiating a natural, effortless dominance, only added to the allure.

Conner's smirk widened slightly as he noticed your reaction, his piercing blue eyes gleaming with a mixture of affection and desire. He stepped closer, the tension in his movements now replaced with a sense of ease and purpose. His hands found their way to your hips, pulling you closer as his body pressed against yours, the heat of his skin intoxicating.

"You've got me all worked up," he murmured, his deep voice low and teasing as his fingers brushed lightly against your sides. The weight of his dick against you was undeniable, a reminder of the intensity simmering between you two.

The moment was electric, the anticipation thick in the air and before you knew it, Conner's hands gripped your hips firmly, his touch grounding and steady as he positioned himself beneath you. The heat of his body pressed against yours, and his ocean-blue eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. Every movement he made was deliberate, filled with purpose, as if he wanted to savor every moment leading up to this.

His dick, thick and pulsing with anticipation, rested heavily against you. You could feel its heat, its weight, as he shifted slightly, aligning himself with your entrance. The sheer size of him made you gasp softly, your body trembling with a mix of excitement and nerves. Conner's hands slid back up to your sides, his thumbs brushing soothing circles into your skin as he leaned in closer.

"Relax," he murmured, his voice low and full of reassurance. His lips found the curve of your jaw, pressing gentle kisses there as he adjusted his position. His dick pressed lightly against your ass now, the sensation sending a spark of heat through your body. The deliberate way he moved, slow and measured, showed how much care he was taking—not just to avoid rushing, but to ensure you were ready for him.

His gaze flicked back to yours, his blue eyes softened with affection but still darkened with desire. "Tell me if it's too much," he said softly, his hands tightening slightly on your hips as he aligned himself perfectly with your hole. The pressure was subtle at first, a promise of what was to come, but it was enough to make your breath hitch and your heart race.

Every touch, every movement felt charged with emotion as Conner held you steady, his body and his presence radiating both strength and tenderness. This was more than just physical—it was intimate, personal, a moment that seemed to transcend words as he prepared to join with you completely.

Your hands gripped Conner's strong shoulders for balance as you slowly began to move, your body adjusting to the fullness of him. The first motion was tentative, deliberate, as you raised yourself just slightly before sliding back down, taking him deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, every inch of him stretching and filling you in a way that made your breath hitch and your heart race.

Conner's hands remained firm on your hips as he guided your movements with subtle pressure, his touch a blend of control and encouragement. His ocean-blue eyes stayed locked on yours, his gaze filled with both awe and desire as he watched you take him, inch by inch. The way his chest rose and fell with deep, uneven breaths told you he was holding back, letting you set the pace.

As you moved again, the motion became smoother, more confident. Slowly, you began to find a rhythm, rising up and sliding back down, feeling every ridge and curve of him as you did. The sensation sent waves of pleasure through your body, building steadily with each motion. Conner's low groan rumbled through the air, his fingers digging into your hips just enough to send a delicious shiver down your spine.

"You feel so good," Conner murmured, his voice rough and filled with raw emotion. His head tilted back slightly, exposing the strong line of his jaw, but his eyes never left you. His hands began to move with you, guiding your rhythm as you continued to ride him, the intensity between you growing with every passing moment.

The connection between you was electric, every touch, every motion building a tension that seemed to radiate through the room. Conner's quiet groans and whispered encouragements spurred you on, his voice wrapping around you like a warm embrace as you continued to move together in perfect harmony.

Soon Conner's fingers pressed into your skin just enough to ground you. You could feel the subtle shift in his energy, his need to guide you taking over as his hands began to set a rhythm, slowly increasing your pace.

"Let me take care of you," Conner murmured, his voice low and husky, filled with both affection and desire. His eyes met yours, their ocean-blue depths darkened with passion, and the look he gave you made your breath catch. His grip on your waist tightened slightly as he moved you, raising your body just enough before lowering you back down onto him, the deliberate motion making you take him deeper.

The change in pace was subtle at first, his guidance smooth and controlled, but you could feel his need building with each motion. His powerful hands worked in perfect synchronization with your body, lifting and guiding you to move faster, the rhythm between you becoming more intense. The sensation of him filling you completely, again and again, was almost overwhelming, pleasure radiating through you with every movement.

"You feel so damn good," Conner groaned, his voice roughened by the sheer intensity of the moment. His hands slid slightly up your waist, his thumbs brushing against your ribs as he continued to guide you, his strength making the faster pace feel effortless. The sound of your bodies moving together filled the room, accompanied by his soft groans and your quiet moans, the connection between you electric and all-consuming.

As he urged you to go faster, his own hips began to rise slightly to meet your movements, the added force sending jolts of pleasure through your body. His head tilted back slightly, his lips parting as he let out a deep, guttural moan that made your heart race. His hands never faltered, holding you steady and ensuring every movement brought you both closer to the edge.

"Just like that," Conner whispered, his voice dripping with both encouragement and need. The rhythm between you built steadily, the intensity growing with every second as his hands guided you faster, harder, deeper. The room seemed to blur around you, leaving only the feeling of him beneath you, his touch on your skin, and the overwhelming pleasure that consumed you both.

Before you could fully register the shift, Conner's strong hands moved with purpose, gripping your hips as he adjusted his angle. In one fluid motion, he leaned forward, gently pushing you onto your back while still buried deep inside you. The sheer strength and control of his movements sent a shiver through your body, the sudden change in position amplifying the intensity of your connection.

Your back pressed against the mattress as Conner hovered over you, his broad shoulders and sculpted frame casting a shadow over you. His hands slid to your thighs, gripping them firmly as he repositioned himself, adjusting his angle with precision. His piercing blue eyes met yours, the intensity in his gaze stealing your breath.

"Hold on to me," he murmured, his voice low and filled with both command and affection. The sound sent a jolt of heat straight through you, and without thinking, your hands found their way to his back, your fingers digging into his firm muscles.

Conner's hips began to move again, the deliberate thrusts sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. The new angle allowed him to go deeper, each motion hitting places that left you gasping. His pace was steady at first, a mix of controlled power and tenderness, as if he wanted to savor every moment of being this close to you. His gaze never wavered, watching your every reaction as if committing them to memory.

"Damn," he groaned, his voice rough with desire as his hands slid along your thighs, pulling you closer to him. His thrusts grew faster, his hips meeting yours with increasing urgency as he surrendered to the intensity building between you. The sound of your bodies moving together filled the room, accompanied by the deep, guttural groans that escaped his lips and the breathless moans spilling from yours.

His head dipped lower, his lips finding your neck as he pressed kisses to your heated skin. The combination of his movements and the sensation of his warm breath against your neck left you completely overwhelmed, your body arching beneath him in response. His hands slid up to your waist, holding you steady as his rhythm became more forceful, his need for you evident in every deliberate thrust.

Each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. The room felt electric, every nerve in your body alight as he drove deeper into you, his hips moving with an unrelenting pace. Your breath hitched, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders for stability, but nothing could ground you against the overwhelming sensations.

"Conner..." you moaned, his name spilling from your lips without thought, raw and filled with the intensity of everything he was making you feel. Your voice trembled, the sound echoing in the heated air between you. The way his name left your lips seemed to spark something in him, his movements becoming even more deliberate, each thrust hitting deeper, harder.

Hearing you call his name made Conner groan deeply, his breath warm and heavy as he leaned closer, his body pressing against yours. His blue eyes darkened with desire, locking onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless. "Say it again," he growled softly, his voice low and filled with a mix of command and need.

"Conner," you gasped again, louder this time, the sound unfiltered as the heat between you built to an almost unbearable peak. His hands tightened on your waist, his grip firm as he pulled you closer, his thrusts coming faster now, each one sending a jolt of pleasure through you. Your body arched beneath him, completely at his mercy as his name tumbled from your lips over and over, a desperate chant that only seemed to spur him on.

"Just like that," he murmured, his voice thick and ragged as he pressed his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours. "Let me hear you. I want to hear how good I make you feel."

His pace quickened even more, his hips moving with a raw, unrelenting passion that left you clinging to him, your nails digging into his shoulders. The sounds of his groans, the slap of skin against skin, and your own voice calling his name filled the room, a symphony of unrestrained desire as he drove you both closer to the edge. Conner's strength, his control, and the sheer depth of his connection to you left you completely undone, your moans of his name the only thing you could manage as he pushed you to heights you'd never imagined.

The pleasure built inside you, overwhelming and unstoppable, as Conner's relentless pace drove you closer and closer to the edge. Your body tensed, your breath hitching sharply as you felt the rising heat coil deep within you, ready to burst. Each thrust sent another jolt of pleasure through you, the intensity mounting until you couldn't hold back any longer.

With a sharp cry of his name, you surrendered completely, your body arching against him as you released. A stream of your hot seed spilled out, the sensation crashing over you like a tidal wave. The release was overwhelming, leaving your mind blank and your body trembling in his grasp. Your nails dug into Conner's shoulders, your moans spilling freely from your lips as the waves of pleasure rippled through you, one after another.

Conner groaned deeply, his breath ragged as he held you steady, his strong hands gripping your hips to keep you in place. His eyes flickered down to take in the sight of you completely undone beneath him, your chest heaving, your cheeks flushed, and your release marking the moment with undeniable evidence of the connection you shared.

"You're so damn handsome," he murmured, his voice low and full of awe as his pace slowed slightly, letting you ride out the final tremors of your climax. He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he continued to move within you, savoring the closeness and the heat radiating between your bodies.

The moment felt infinite, your body still trembling from the force of your release as Conner's steady presence anchored you. His lips brushed against your cheek, his hands gently caressing your sides as he whispered, "We're not done yet." The promise in his voice sent another shiver through you, and despite the blissful exhaustion settling in, you couldn't help but crave more.

Suddenly, Conner's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers pressing into your skin as he buried himself deeper inside you. His thrusts became faster, harder, and more relentless, the sheer power behind them taking your breath away. It was as though he'd reached a breaking point, his self-control unraveling as he chased his own release with an intensity that left you completely at his mercy.

"God, you feel so good," Conner growled, his voice rough and strained, each word punctuated by the force of his movements. His head dipped down, his lips finding the crook of your neck as he kissed and nipped at your skin, his breath hot and uneven against you. The sounds he made—deep, guttural groans that seemed to come from deep within his chest—only added to the electricity crackling between you.

Your body rocked with every thrust, the sheer power of his movements sending waves of pleasure coursing through you all over again. His pace was unrelenting, his hips snapping forward as he lost himself completely in the moment, his need for you driving him into overdrive. The room was filled with the rhythmic sound of your bodies moving together, accompanied by his moans and your breathless gasps, the air thick with heat and passion.

Conner's grip on you became almost desperate as his pace quickened even more, his thrusts deep and hard, pushing both of you to the brink. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles coiled beneath your hands as he reached his limit. His breath came in ragged gasps, his groans growing louder and more primal with each thrust.

"Can't hold it anymore," Conner growled, his voice rough and raw as he thrust into you one final time, burying himself as deeply as he could. His body tensed, and with a low, guttural moan, he released, a hot surge of his seed spilling inside you. The heat of it sent a shiver through your body, the sensation overwhelming as you felt every pulse of his release.

Conner stayed buried inside you, his body trembling slightly as he let out a long, shuddering breath. His arms slid around you, pulling you close as he rested his forehead against yours, his ocean-blue eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and satisfaction.

"Perfect," he murmured, his voice soft and filled with a quiet reverence as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. His hands moved to caress your sides, his touch soothing as you both basked in the afterglow, the intensity of the moment leaving you breathless and utterly content in each other's arms.

After a moment of stillness, Conner let out a deep, contented sigh and slowly pulled out of you, his movements gentle and careful. The absence of him left a mix of relief and longing, but his warm presence remained as he immediately shifted closer, wrapping his strong arms around you. The weight of his body against yours and the soothing rhythm of his breathing anchored you in the moment, bringing a quiet sense of comfort and safety.

He pulled the blanket over the both of you, tucking it snugly around your shoulders as you nestled into his chest. His fingers traced idle patterns along your back, a tender gesture that made your body relax further into his embrace. The steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, combined with the warmth of his skin, lulled you into a state of pure tranquility. Your eyes grew heavier, the exhaustion from the intensity of the moment pulling you closer to sleep.

Just as your breaths started to slow, the peaceful atmosphere was interrupted by a sudden, sharp knock at the door. The sound startled you awake, and you felt Conner stiffen beside you, his body instantly alert. His protective instincts kicked in immediately, and without a word, he reached for the blanket, pulling it up to cover you completely before sliding out of bed.

"Stay here," he murmured softly, his voice low and reassuring as he pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. He grabbed his boxers from the floor, slipping them on with practiced ease before making his way to the door. His movements were fluid but purposeful, his broad shoulders and muscular frame silhouetted in the dim light as he approached.

Conner placed a hand on the doorknob, pausing for a brief moment to glance back at you. His expression softened when he saw you peeking out from beneath the covers, and he gave you a small, reassuring smile before turning his attention back to the door.

Conner cracked the door open just enough to see who was on the other side, his body positioned to block the view of the room. When he saw M'gann standing there, her expression bright and hopeful, he let out a quiet sigh, his irritation easing into polite patience.

"Conner," M'gann said, her tone light and cheerful as she leaned slightly into the doorway. "We're all about to sit down for dinner. I thought maybe you'd want to join us?"

Conner glanced back toward the bed for a brief moment, his protective instincts kicking in as he ensured you were still tucked away and comfortable. Then, turning back to M'gann, he gave her a polite but firm smile. "Thanks, M'gann, but I'm going to pass tonight," he said, his voice calm and even. "I've already got plans."

M'gann's expression faltered slightly, the smile on her face tightening for a brief moment, but she quickly recovered. "Oh... okay," she said, trying to keep her tone casual. "Maybe next time?"

"Yeah, maybe," Conner replied, his tone kind but noncommittal as he gently closed the door. He stood there for a moment, letting out a small sigh before turning back toward you, his expression softening the instant his gaze landed on you.

Sliding back under the covers, Conner wrapped his arms around you once more, pulling you close against his chest. "Sorry about that," he muttered, his voice low and soothing as he pressed a kiss to your temple. "Now, where were we?"

You smiled sleepily, your head resting against his chest as you let the warmth of his embrace pull you back into the peaceful haze of sleep. "Right here," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Conner chuckled lightly, his grip on you tightening just enough to remind you that you were safe and loved. "Exactly," he said, his tone filled with quiet affection. "Just us. Always." And with that, the world faded away again, leaving only the sound of his heartbeat and the warmth of his arms as you drifted back into sleep.

#dc x male reader #x male reader #dc #superboy #conner kent #conner kent x male reader #superboy x male reader #young justice

292 notes · View notes

wittyandobsessed · 1 month ago

Text

𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | Tenth Doctor x Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | Sexual content, orgasm control, forced stimulation (consensual), power imbalance, overstimulation, light dominance, light teasing/humiliation, masturbation, use of a toy (sonic screwdriver), mild bondage (loss of control), mild embarrassment

𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘰𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳’𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘤 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘧—𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘴. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦… 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵?

You were alone in the control room, finally holding the sonic screwdriver in your hands. It had been a constant source of fascination for you, ever since you first set foot in the TARDIS. The Doctor never let you play with it—not because it was fragile (you knew it could probably survive a Dalek invasion or an encounter with a Sontaran blaster) but because, in his words, "it’s not a toy."

And yet, you couldn’t help but be mesmerized by it. All the things it could do, all the mysteries it held. You’d seen it unlock doors, fix malfunctioning systems, and even manipulate alien technology, but the Doctor never offered you more than a brief explanation about its functions. It was one of those things that felt just out of reach, a bit like him—full of secrets you were never quite meant to understand.

Now, with him busy working in the next room, you finally had your chance to admire it up close. You cradled the sonic screwdriver in your hands, feeling its weight—solid, balanced, a tool that had seen countless adventures. The moment you activated it, the familiar hum filled the air, a quiet yet powerful sound that made you grin. You hadn’t heard it so clearly before, and somehow it felt like it had its own rhythm, its own pulse.

Your fingers traced the sleek, metallic surface, almost reverently, as you turned it over. It was smaller than you'd expected—sleek and elegant—but still somehow felt like it was made for bigger things. You studied it, fascinated, but then your eyes caught something unexpected. A small, inconspicuous button you’d never noticed before. It blended into the design so well that you had no idea how you’d missed it. It didn’t seem important, just there, almost as if it was waiting for someone to find it.

You paused for a moment, considering. What harm could it do? The Doctor was still in the other room, and he wouldn’t know. Your curiosity won out, and with a small, almost playful smile, you pressed it.

The sound that followed was nothing like you expected. A loud, startled cry echoed from the next room, sharp and filled with surprise. It was enough to make your heart leap into your throat.

“Doctor?” you called, your voice cracking slightly as you shot toward the sound. You could feel your pulse racing as you sprinted down the hall, your mind racing through a hundred possibilities of what you might have just unleashed.

Bursting into the adjacent room, you found the Doctor standing frozen, his face an alarming shade of red. It was a color you’d never seen on him before, not even during their most intense and dangerous moments. His usual playful, mischievous expression was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he wore a look of wide-eyed panic mixed with... discomfort? It was hard to tell exactly, but there was no mistaking the tension in his posture.

"Doctor, what happened? Are you hurt?" you asked, your heart skipping a beat as you rushed to his side.

His eyes locked onto yours—wide, frantic—and then, almost as if he hadn’t quite realized where his attention had drifted, they shot down to his own body. That's when you saw it. His hands were hovering awkwardly just in front of his trousers, as if he couldn’t decide whether to cover himself or... explain the very obvious situation he now found himself in.

You blinked, unable to stop yourself from staring. "Wait, are you—?"

"I—" he stammered, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. "I don’t—oh, brilliant."

"What's going on?" You found yourself taking a step closer, feeling the concern rise up in your chest as you quickly looked him over, trying to piece together what had happened. His eyes flicked nervously back to the sonic screwdriver you still held in your hand, and that's when it all clicked into place.

The realization hit him like a freight train. His hands dropped to his sides with a sharp exhale, and he muttered under his breath, “Oh no. Oh no, no, no.” His gaze met yours again, filled with both dread and disbelief. “Tell me you didn’t press the small button on the side.”

Your stomach dropped as a cold wave of guilt washed over you. There it was. The button you had curiously pressed without a second thought, the one that now seemed to have caused some... rather unexpected consequences. You swallowed hard. “Uh… I might have? Why?”

For a moment, the Doctor looked like he might pass out. His eyes were wide, as if the weight of the situation had just crashed into him. He rubbed a hand across his forehead and muttered something under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch—something that definitely sounded like an exasperated curse. The Doctor’s trousers, now clearly a little tighter than before, seemed to be the result of an unintended side effect from the mysterious button. His movements, still stiff, betrayed an attempt to cover up just how… well, how out of control his body had reacted.

“What did you do?” he asked, his voice much quieter now, tinged with frustration, embarrassment and a hint of panic.

You couldn’t help it—your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean? What’s going on? What’s the big deal with that button?”

The Doctor stopped mid-pace, turning to face you with a look that was half-annoyed, half-astonished. "That," he began, trying to find the right words, "wasn't just any button. It’s a... well, it's more like a—" He stopped himself, clearly flustered, and tried again. "Let’s just say, it activates a very specific, very personal, and very inconvenient function. It’s not something anyone—especially not you—should be tampering with."

You were still so confused. It was like you were standing on the edge of a puzzle, the pieces right there in front of you, but somehow, your brain couldn’t quite put it all together. You glanced at him, taking in the situation—the redness of his face, the awkward way his hands hovered near his trousers, and the growing realization that you weren’t quite getting it.

“Personal how?” you asked, your voice tinged with genuine curiosity despite the mounting awkwardness.

He hesitated, his eyes darting to the floor, clearly debating whether or not to just leave it at that. But, after a moment, it was clear his current predicament left little room for denial. He took a deep breath, finally meeting your eyes. “It’s linked to me. To certain... neural and physical responses.” He said it so quickly, his words tumbling out like they were a confession.

“Neural and physical—” Your voice trailed off as the pieces finally clicked into place. You suddenly felt heat rush to your cheeks as the full implication hit you. “Oh. Oh my god.”

“Yes, oh my god is right!” He snapped, pacing now, his steps stiff and quick, his hands still awkwardly hovering around his pants. “You’ve essentially—well, you’ve stimulated me in a way that should be very private!” His words were practically stumbling over themselves, and you couldn’t help but notice the wild embarrassment that flashed across his face.

Your mouth fell open, but you slapped a hand over it almost immediately, torn between the horror of the situation and the undeniable urge to burst out laughing. “I didn’t know!” you exclaimed, your voice muffled behind your hand. “Why would you even program something like that?”

The Doctor turned sharply to face you, his glare intense, but it only seemed to make the situation more ridiculous. “I didn’t think anyone else would use it!” he shot back, his tone defensive, though the edge of panic still lingered in his voice. He groaned, rubbing his temples in frustration. “And it’s not just for… that! It’s a health monitor, it’s for emergencies, it’s—oh, never mind what it’s for! Just—stop laughing!”

“I’m not laughing!” you protested, but your voice betrayed you completely as a snort escaped from your lips, followed by a few more uncontrollable giggles. You tried to stifle them, but it was impossible. The whole situation was just so absurd.

The Doctor extended his hand, palm open, fingers slightly curled in anticipation. His stern expression was an attempt—albeit a weak one—to mask the embarrassment still lingering behind his sharp gaze. A muscle in his jaw tensed, his lips pressed into a thin, impatient line.

"Give it back," he demanded, his voice low and clipped. "Now."

You hesitated, the weight of the sonic screwdriver warm against your palm. The temptation was almost unbearable, an idea flickering at the edges of your mind—wicked, impulsive, and utterly inappropriate. A smirk ghosted across your lips before you could suppress it. When your eyes met the Doctor’s again, his expression shifted ever so slightly. His brow furrowed, his pupils dilating just a fraction as realization dawned.

“Don’t,” he warned, voice threading somewhere between panic and authority. His Adam’s apple bobbed in a hard swallow, and despite the heat rising to his ears, he refused to break eye contact. “Don’t you dare.”

But of course, that only sealed your decision.

Before he could lunge, before he could snatch it back with those deft, impossibly quick fingers, your thumb pressed down on the activation button.

The reaction was instantaneous. A jolt, a sharp inhale—his whole body locked up, spine going ramrod straight as the sonic pulsed against that particular, devastatingly sensitive bundle of nerves. It wasn’t just a shock of sensation; it was an invasion, threading deep through his nervous system like a live wire, sending electric pleasure coursing through every fiber of his being. His legs buckled beneath him, and he staggered, grasping at the console for support.

A sound escaped him—low, rough, and utterly unguarded.

His knuckles whitened as he gripped the console edge, his long fingers digging into the metal as though grounding himself against the relentless stimulation on his prostate. His chest heaved, struggling for air, for composure, but his body was betraying him at every turn. A shudder wracked through his limbs as the sonic's frequency rippled through him, a maddening, merciless vibration that radiated outward in waves. His thighs trembled, heat pooling low in his belly, his core tightening in response to the overwhelming pleasure crashing over him.

His pulse was erratic, pounding beneath flushed skin. His muscles twitched involuntarily, thighs tense as he tried—and failed—to regain control. The sensation wasn’t just centered in one place; it spread, humming through his nerves like a crescendo, reverberating down his spine and lodging itself in his groin. His cock throbbed, achingly hard, reacting to the sonic’s devastatingly perfect rhythm.

His head tipped back, exposing the elegant line of his throat as he gasped for air. The column of his neck, usually so poised and commanding, was now vulnerable—his Adam’s apple bobbing with each shaky breath. His lips, parted and trembling, barely managed to shape around the sounds escaping him, raw and unguarded. A thin sheen of sweat gathered at his hairline, dark strands clinging to his flushed skin as his entire body shuddered under the relentless pulse of the sonic.

His eyes fluttered shut, lashes trembling against the crests of his cheekbones, his features twisted in a mixture of pleasure and helplessness. Every pulse of the sonic seemed to build upon the last, sensation compounding in maddening intensity, until his knees threatened to buckle beneath him. His fingers were curled into white-knuckled fists against the console, gripping the edge as if it were the only thing anchoring him to reality.

"Y/N..." His voice was rough, wrecked—an unsteady, desperate groan that barely made it past his lips.

It sent a jolt through you, sharp and searing. The heat pooling low in your stomach coiled tighter, spreading through your veins like wildfire. You swallowed hard, pulse hammering, your breath hitching as you watched him unravel before you. Seeing him like this—completely undone, usually so composed and in control, now trembling under the weight of overwhelming pleasure—was intoxicating in a way you hadn't anticipated.

The Doctor managed to lift his head, his damp hair framing his face, tendrils sticking to the curve of his temple.

His chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths, muscles tense as he fought against the sensation flooding his nerves. His glare was sharp, edged with frustration, but the way his body trembled betrayed him. It undermined any threat he might have hoped to convey.

"Y/N..." he panted, his voice barely more than a breath, shaky and uneven, his words punctuated by the ragged pull of oxygen. "Give. It. Back."

You took a slow step backward, cradling the sonic behind your back with a playful grin. "I don’t know, Doctor," you teased, tilting your head as you studied him. "I think I finally understand why you keep this thing so close."

A choked noise tore from his throat—halfway between exasperation and something dangerously close to need. His fingers twitched at his sides, his legs still unsteady, his entire body a mess of overstimulated nerves.

"Y/N," he rasped, his voice dropping lower, cracking under the weight of it all. It wasn’t just an order anymore. It was raw, almost pleading. "Stop this. You don’t—"

"You’re telling me to stop?" you interrupted, raising a brow. Slowly, deliberately, you let your gaze trail over him—his heaving chest, the way his shirt clung to his skin, the barely-contained tremors running through his thighs. "You don’t look like you want me to stop."

Before he could respond, you pressed the button again—just briefly, just enough to make him jolt. His entire body seized, a violent shudder wracking through him as the pulse hit him deep, right where he was most sensitive. His prostate throbbed under the relentless vibration, sending sharp, consuming pleasure radiating through his core.

A choked gasp tore from his throat, and his thighs trembled uncontrollably. The sound that followed—low, rough, and utterly unguarded—was pure helpless abandon. His moan came from deep within, guttural and raw, echoing in the space around you. His knees buckled before he could stop them, forcing him to sink onto the floor, his back pressed against the console for support.

The Doctor had never looked like this before—never so undone, never so completely at the mercy of sensation. His flushed skin, the damp strands of hair clinging to his forehead, the helpless tremor in his limbs—it was intoxicating.

"Stop—oh, stars above—Y/N!" he gasped, voice breaking on the last syllable as another tremor wracked through his body.

His entire body felt like it was burning from the inside out, pleasure radiating outward from that singular point of stimulation, sending tingling waves through his thighs, his stomach, his cock—already so hard it was almost painful.

And you—standing above him, watching with that wicked glint in your eyes—you wanted to see him fall apart completely. You wanted to watch him unravel beneath your touch—or rather, beneath the pulse of the sonic screwdriver.

His eyes, dark and clouded with something dangerously close to surrender, flickered to yours—just as your thumb pressed the button again.

A deep, guttural moan tore from his throat, raw and unrestrained. His head tipped back against the console, exposing the long, elegant stretch of his throat, tendons pulling taut as another powerful vibration struck deep inside him. His prostate throbbed, stimulated beyond reason, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling outward, curling in his gut and pooling thick and heavy between his legs.

His thighs clenched, trembling with every new wave of sensation, his breath breaking into uneven gasps. The muscles in his stomach tightened reflexively, his entire body responding to the stimulation against his will. He was so sensitive now—too sensitive—his nerves strung tight, every inch of him on fire.

And then there was the undeniable bulge straining against the fabric of his trousers, his cock twitching at every pulse of the sonic. It was impossible to miss now, the outline pressing insistently against the seam, desperate for friction, for relief, for something more.

You licked your lips, eyes trailing over him—drinking in the sight of him like this, so completely undone, so far from his usual composure. You took a slow, deliberate step closer, letting the anticipation build between you, letting the moment stretch.

Then, voice dipping into something soft but firm, something coaxing yet undeniable, you spoke:

"Touch yourself."

It wasn’t just a suggestion. It was a command.

His wide, glassy eyes snapped to yours, pupils blown wide, lips parted as he struggled to process the words. There was a moment of hesitation—one last thread of resistance, one last desperate grasp at dignity. But it was thin. Fragile.

With trembling hands, he reached for the zipper of his trousers, fingers fumbling, clumsy with urgency. The sharp sound of the zipper being drawn down sliced through the charged silence, making his breath stutter. He swallowed hard, his flushed cheeks darkening as he freed himself from the confines of his clothing, his thick length springing forward, aching and swollen, the head flushed a deep shade of red.

His hand wrapped around his shaft without hesitation, fingers curling instinctively, as though seeking the only relief available to him.

"Y/N," he groaned, your name falling from his lips like a prayer, rough and desperate, thick with need. His grip tightened, his palm gliding over the slick heat of his skin, stroking in slow, deliberate motions. At first, his movements were unsteady, shaky from the pleasure still thrumming through his system, but the overwhelming need consuming him left no room for hesitation. He couldn’t stop himself.

And you didn’t want him to.

You leaned in, the sonic screwdriver still clutched in your hand, watching with rapt fascination as he fell apart under his own touch. Every detail was intoxicating—the way his lips parted on every ragged breath, the way his brows knit together in helpless pleasure, the way his moans spilled from him without shame, raw and broken and beautifully unguarded.

Then you pressed the button again.

His whole body jerked, a strangled sound tearing from his throat as the vibrations surged through him once more, deep and relentless. His prostate throbbed under the stimulation, sending another wave of electric pleasure cascading through his nerves. His stomach clenched, his thighs tensing, his cock twitching in his grasp as his strokes quickened instinctively.

"Fuck—oh my god," he gasped, his voice raw, barely coherent. His head fell back against the console, exposing the long curve of his throat as his hips involuntarily bucked into his own hand. His breath came in ragged, erratic pants, every inch of him strung impossibly tight, on the verge of something devastatingly intense. "I—I can’t—oh!"

And still, you weren’t done.

You followed him down, kneeling just a few feet away, close enough to see the way his fingers trembled, the way his entire body shuddered under the relentless stimulation. A slow, wicked smile spread across your lips as you adjusted your grip on the sonic, eyes locked on his writhing form.

Then, without hesitation, you pressed the button again—this time, holding it just a little longer.

The reaction was immediate.

His body arched, his moan breaking into something between a sob and a plea. His cock throbbed in his grasp, the pleasure so consuming it bordered on unbearable, his hand stuttering as he struggled to keep up with the overwhelming sensations wracking through him. His legs trembled, his stomach tensed, his entire being caught in the push and pull of pleasure so intense it stole the very air from his lungs.

And you—watching him, drinking in every second—knew you had him exactly where you wanted him.

"That’s it," you purred, voice dripping with encouragement, soft yet commanding. "Don’t hold back. Let me see you."

His breath hitched at your words, a helpless shudder rolling through him. His fingers tightened around his cock, the slick slide of his palm growing desperate, erratic. His brow furrowed, his lips parted, and his head tilted back, exposing the strained tendons in his throat as he gave himself over to the pleasure, unable to fight it any longer.

"Y/N," he moaned again, your name slipping from his lips like a prayer, like a plea—like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality as the sensations wracked his body. His chest heaved with every shallow, unsteady breath, his stomach tensing, his entire being surrendering to the bliss coursing through him.

And you—watching him unravel, watching his body twitch and tremble under your control—felt intoxicated by it.

You pressed the button one last time.

The final surge of vibrations crashed into him, sending a violent shudder through his frame. His thighs clenched, his hips jerking forward as a strangled cry tore from his throat, raw and unrestrained. His whole body went taut, every muscle locking up as the pleasure overwhelmed him completely, consuming him in a way that left him utterly defenseless.

His hand stilled, fingers twitching against his shaft as thick ropes of cum spilled from him, pooling over his stomach and dribbling between his fingers. His body spasmed, each wave of pleasure dragging him deeper into the release, his chest rising and falling with erratic, gasping breaths. His cock throbbed in his grasp, still pulsing with the aftershocks, too sensitive, too overstimulated, yet his fingers struggled to keep moving, as if his body wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

It took several long moments for the tremors to subside. Slowly, his body began to relax, slumping bonelessly against the console as his muscles gave out, spent and utterly wrecked. His damp hair clung to his forehead, his cheeks flushed, his skin glistening with sweat.

Then, finally, his half-lidded eyes found yours.

Something flickered in his gaze—gratitude, disbelief, a hazy, lingering pleasure that hadn’t quite faded. And beneath it all, the barest hint of mischief.

He couldn’t believe it. That you had done this to him. That you had used his sonic screwdriver—his sex toy—against him. He should feel angry. Should feel embarrassed. But he didn’t.

Because he had dreamed of this for so long.

Had imagined what it would feel like, how it would be to have you take control, to push him past the edge of reason. And now that you had—now that you had dragged him into his own fantasies and made them a reality—he was left utterly, blissfully undone.

"You," he rasped, voice hoarse, still breathless from the intensity of it all, "are dangerous."

You grinned, tilting your head, the sonic still resting in your palm.

"Oh, Doctor," you murmured, amusement laced in your tone. "You have no idea."

▸ Everything

@alexxavicry

▸ Doctor Who

@alechardyssslut

#oneshot #x reader #fem reader #doctor who #doctor who smut #tenth doctor #10th doctor #tenth doctor smut #10th doctor smut #smut

117 notes · View notes

ruciel · 7 months ago

Text

thinking of a yandere silver wolf who can’t keep her eyes off you. she’s the pinnacle of a true stalker yandere, and her eyes and ears are everywhere. It first starts off with an inconspicuous chat message. silver wolf is utterly shameless, direct as ever, messaging from her own personal contact; name in bold and everything. all she sends is an emoji, :bubblegum: with a little picture of who you can only assume is this random person blowing a bubble out of some pink gum. you send a question mark, and you get a link invite to some game. you know how this goes, immediate block. you think nothing of the brief interaction… until you get another message. it’s from the same name, silver wolf, with yet another emoticon :withdraw: of a more menacing self-image that makes it appear like she’s pointing at you through the screen. you can see her typing a message, but block the contact again before you can see the reply. some way, somehow, this “silver wolf” finds every way to keep contacting you. you don’t know how, your phone probably has a million bugs or viruses on it, maybe both. you barely know her, and certainly don’t know how she’s become so infatuated with you. she likes tapping into your devices, and it becomes so bothersome when you’re actually trying to get work done. every time you believe that maybe she’s left you alone, boom, unread message from silver wolf. she’s still a stranger to you, yet she somehow knows so much about you? aside from the apparent stalking (even after you’ve move addresses multiple times) you have no idea how she gathered such a vast amount of your personal information. you’re at your wits end, and truthfully no one has been of any help to you. you’ve gone to various authorities, but no one believes your case is worth looking into because they deem it too difficult to entertain an online-stalking case. so you go off-grid. you get rid of all of your cellular devices, some of them you even take outside and smash with a bat just to get some internal frustrations out. you move for the hundredth time, and get accustomed to living without the help of the more advanced technologies. silver wolf has to admit that you’ve pulled quite the move here, but it’s not checkmate. imagine your complete and utter shock when you see a hologram appear beside you. with a cheeky smile that belongs to the little emoticons that have plagued your nightmares. silver wolf thinks this is the next big step for your guys’ long-distance relationship.

#a yan silver wolf would actually drive you crazy #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr silver wolf x reader #silver wolf x reader #yandere silver wolf #yandere silver wolf x reader

132 notes · View notes

gothamite-rambler · 3 months ago

Text

Internet history in the batfamily

Duke: Hey, I remember as a kid learning the CIA checks out internet history. So, I thought about how a lot of you guys are really good at technology and hacking, especially one of us in this room who helps us on missions.

Duke not so inconspicuously pointed to Barbara. The hacker in question typed away on her computer.

Duke: What I'm saying is my internet history isn't normal, but fifty percent is anime, manga and learning moves from that stuff, twenty percent fighting that's not in anime and ten percent about true crime, and another ten percent is leisure time.

Duke crossed his legs, feeling accomplished. He waited silently for the nervous looking group in the room to speak up first before Barbara did. Bruce texted on his phone unfazed, he had no shame at his age.

Barbara (speaking first): That's why you were buying stuff from AliExpress?

Duke (happy): Actually I'm getting into keyboard building and that site has good supplies, also I called it!

Barbara (amused): You frequent some interesting boards on reddit though. Did you win the argument on best Japanese cartoon?

Duke (sheepishly): I had to block them at a certain point, but that means I won. What have you seen on these guys?

Barbara (lying): I can't disclose that Duke. That would make the adults in the room upset.

Everyone minus Duke, Bruce, Damian and Barbara sighed relived, but then Barbara smirked and picked one person in the room to 'sacrifice'.

Barbara: I have to admit, Stephanie has been watching a lot of Robin Hoodie thirst videos, just felt that the room needed to know.

Barbara chuckled evilly as Stephanie's face turned red.

Stephanie (shocked to hear core): You treacherous harlot! The audacity!

Bruce glared at Stephanie then pulled out his phone and left the room.

Bruce: I told you I'd call her.

Stephanie (running after the man, begging): No! My ma won't let me live it down, she uses a sandal as punishment!

Duke and Damian laughed while the other men were relieved, but not for long. Barbara took a sip from her coffee enjoying her job more. Then Duke spoke again.

Duke (fanning the flames): Which one has the super weird porn? Because they left a tab open on the computer once.

Barbara (shaking her cup): I'm not sure... If someone refills my tea I won't tell you which one viewed the weird stuff that day... although that wasn't the only time. Right boys?

Tim, Dick and Jason ran out the room to get Barbara tea while Damian stayed sitting on the couch, continuing to read.

Damian (proud of himself): I'm a good boy.

Duke fist bumped Barbara on his accomplished trolling mission as the woman returned to her computer work.

146 notes · View notes

thatsmzbitchtoyou · 6 months ago

Text

Vibranium & Stainless Steel -Oneshot *Request*

Word count: 3203 Warnings: language, smut

Y/N was an Avenger. Well, not like a big superhero type of Avenger. She was mostly on the sidelines, and only called in when information extraction was needed. Since Wanda was M.I.A. for the foreseeable future, Nick Fury had been on the hunt for someone who could read minds, and had sniffed Y/N out, a mutant, from some online mutant-safe chat rooms. She had gone through some training, but overall she wasn’t needed in the field until the Avengers brought back bad guys as prisoners who refused to talk.

It was always a sight to behold when the bad guy would be plopped down on a chair in an interrogation room, looking warily at the room full of superheroes, then in would walk Y/N, a short, plump, bookish-looking woman with large glasses and an oversized dress and cardigan over top. The bad guys would always scoff at her, until she touched their faces and dug around in their minds, finding everything the Avengers needed to know.

She loved being a part of something bigger, something that felt important. And she was making new friends, some of them feeling as close as family. The only problem she had came in the form of James Buchanan Barnes. Boy was she glad he wasn’t the one who could read minds, otherwise she’d be utterly embarrassed on a daily basis. Y/N never tried to read the Avengers minds, she had no reason to, and it felt like a huge invasion of privacy. But every once in a while when she would stare at him too long she thought she noticed a hungry glance being thrown her way. Surely it was a trick of her mind.

Y/N also could not stop staring at his vibranium arm. The thing was a work of art, a technological masterpiece. It fascinated her, intrigued her, and whenever he was close by if she wasn’t being distracted by his inhumanly attractive face, she was gobsmacked by his vibranium arm.

Over time she noticed Bucky being closer to her, whether it was during group movie nights sitting next to her, staying close whenever they would bring in someone to have her read their mind, sitting at the kitchen table during meals, and he volunteered to give her gun training. She decided to be brave and ask if he wanted to have a movie night in her room one day. “You’ve gotta get updated with the best cinema of the last eighty years!” she exclaimed as she pulled up her online streaming accounts.

“And what great piece of cinematography are you going to educate me on?” Bucky laughed.

“Legally Blonde,” Y/N smirked as she looked at him and pressed play. “Now pass the popcorn.”

As the movie progressed, Y/N was distracted once again, her eyes drifting from the screen to the metal arm that she had purposefully sat next to. Bucky was leaned back against her headboard, smiling at one part of the movie, long legs stretching out on the bed and his hands intertwined on his stomach. She eyed his metal arm as inconspicuously as she could. The way it was formed, the metal manipulated to look like a human arm would, with the plates and divots following the natural lines of muscle that would normally be there was captivating. The gold that peaked through the plates seemed to shine even in the dimly lit room, complimenting the dark gray color of the rest of the arm. Her gaze strayed to his hand, matching in size to his flesh one, the smaller plates and glimpses of gold almost making it look, if she didn’t know better, like a really cool futuristic tattoo.

He suddenly moved his metal arm and laid it flat between them on the bed. “You can touch it if you want,” Bucky said quietly.

Y/N’s eyes snapped up to his face. He wasn’t looking at her, still watching the movie, but he had a teasing grin pulling at his lips. Y/N hung her head and started giggling, covering her face with her hands. “I’m sorry, Buck.”

Bucky laughed. “It’s okay. I get it, it’s a bit strange,” he said, finally looking down at his arm. He turned it over and rolled his wrist, then flexed his fingers.

“It’s vibranium, right?” she asked.

“Yep. Designed by Wakanda’s best,” he said, glancing at her.

“Can you…feel with it?” Y/N asked, her hand slowly reaching out and running a finger along his forearm.

“In a weird way, yeah,” Bucky nodded. “It’s more of a pressure thing. I can tell that something or someone is touching me. It’s hooked up to my nervous system somehow. I don’t pretend to understand anything Shuri told me about it when they first gave it to me,” he snorted.

Y/N hummed, her finger moving closer to his wrist. “Can it do anything?”

“Besides bash people’s heads in?” Bucky asked with raised eyebrows.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Yes, we get it, you’re a big bad super soldier,” she scoffed. “I mean does it have any features? Like does it regulate temperature? Or a hidden compartment for a gun in there? Or rockets like the Iron Man suit? Or–”

Bucky laughed loudly at that as he sat up and turned more to face her. “No, but I wish! I should talk to Shuri about that.” He reached the hand out and took hold of her hand, putting her palm facing upright. “It can regulate temperature,” he said, laying his palm on top of hers. She felt it start to heat up a little and her eyebrows raised in surprise. “Super strong, obviously,” he said. “Vibranium can only be destroyed by other vibranium, so nearly indestructible. And lately I found something weird,” he said with a frown. He lifted his hand off of hers and held it up between them. He focused on his fingers, and Y/N gasped as they started to vibrate. “I don’t really know what that’s for, but it’s interesting,” he said, turning his hand over.

“That is…interesting,” Y/N said, gulping quickly as her thighs pressed together.

Bucky hummed then the vibration stopped. “Otherwise it functions like a regular arm. I’m able to subconsciously do everything I do with my right hand. I can also write with it,” he said with a lopsided smile. “It makes me ambidextrous.”

“How funny,” Y/N smiled. “Does it ever…hurt?”

“No,” Bucky shook his head, his gaze meeting hers.

“Good,” she nodded. They stared at each other for a moment before Y/N blinked rapidly and looked back at the TV. “Oh! Here’s the bend and snap!”

“The what?” Bucky scoffed.

***

After that movie night whenever Y/N and Bucky were together he would reach out and touch her with the metal arm. It was always something playful, like tickling the back of her neck when her hair was up, gently pulling her hair when it was down, poking her anywhere she had exposed skin while he made his finger ice cold, which made her squeak one too many times in important meetings.

Then the touches became friendlier. When she sat next to him on his left side he would rest the metal arm behind her on the couch, let her hold onto it during scary movies, then reach over and squeeze her knee or thigh randomly. Y/N was brave again and randomly grabbed his hand, holding it and examining it while everyone was hanging out and talking one night. She intertwined her fingers with his metal ones, ignoring his eyes on her as she paid attention to the conversation. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing, holding onto metal, but he didn’t pull away, so she didn’t let go. Bucky seemed to enjoy the fact that the arm didn’t scare or worry her, and that someone accepted that piece of him that was considered so dangerous.

Y/N’s fantasies and dreams got progressively more spicy after seeing his fingers vibrate. She woke up in a sweat most mornings, her hips trembling as the last memories of her dreams riddled with Bucky’s vibranium hand between her legs would flit away. Her staring got worse by the day, until one night while they were in his room hanging out Bucky’s metal fingers snapped in front of her face.

“Jesus, doll, did you hear anything I just said?” he asked, his eyes narrowed at her.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Y/N closed her eyes and shook her head. “My mind has just been…elsewhere.”

“Does elsewhere have my metal arm as the star of the show?” he asked, arching his eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest.

Y/N’s eyes widened, and she could feel a deep blush painting her cheeks. “What? No, I, uh…” she floundered. He gave her an unimpressed look and Y/N sighed, looking away. “I’m sorry, Buck. I shouldn’t stare. It’s just really cool, beautiful even! And ever since you showed me the features I’ve been thinking about how it would—” she cut herself off with a gasp, covering her mouth with her hands.

Both of Bucky’s eyebrows raised. “How it would…what?” He asked, slightly tilting his head.

Y/N shook her head. “Nothing, uh, forget it,” she said, sliding off his bed and backing away towards his door. “I um, I gotta go do something, I forgot–”

Bucky quickly stood and walked toward her. “How it would what, Y/N?” he said, making her back up faster. She didn’t realize how close she already was to his door and backed into it loudly with a huff. Bucky’s arms caged her against the door, his head dipping down to be eye level with her. She stared at him with wide eyes, her mouth agape as her breathing got heavier. The look he was giving her was one she’d never seen before, at least not in real life. His gaze flickered across her face, his own breathing becoming heavy. “Answer me,” he grumbled.

Y/N swallowed harshly. “H-how it would f-f-feel,” she stammered in a whisper.

“How it would feel…where?” Bucky breathed, his head tilting again and eyes narrowing.

“On me,” Y/N replied.

Bucky let out a frustrated sigh. “Are you always this infuriating?” he asked. “Use your words, Y/N. Be a big girl and tell me what it is you want.”

Y/N whined involuntarily and it made his eyes widen. It was now or never. “I want you to use your fingers as a vibrator on my clit,” she whispered in a shaky breath. “I want to feel them inside me. All over me. I want y-you.” Y/N slowly reached a shaking hand up and caressed his cheek. “I l-like you…a lot.”

Bucky’s eyes fluttered at the feeling of her fingers on his face. Then his hands slid from the door to cup her face, his metal thumb sweeping across her cheek. “I like you, too,” he breathed, then leaned down and kissed her fiercely.

Y/N couldn’t hold back the moan that traveled up her throat at finally feeling his lips against hers. Her arms wrapped around his waist, hugging him close as he kissed her until she felt lightheaded. Bucky’s metal fingers wrapped around the back of her neck and into her hair, forcing her head into a different angle to deepen the kiss. His rougher treatment made her whimper against his mouth, and he opened his mouth to lick at her lower lip, then nip at it teasingly.

Bucky licked into her mouth, tasting her tongue and groaning at how easily pliable she was being for him. “Are you sure you want this, doll?” he asked quietly as he moved his kisses to her cheek then down her neck. “I’m a bit of a mess.”

“My mess,” Y/N immediately responded.

Bucky huffed a laugh against her ear. “Your mess,” he chuckled.

Y/N’s hands felt him all over his back, his sides, and up his front. Her fingers ran over something hard on his chest, and she followed the line of a chain up to his neck. It was his dog tags. She twisted the chain out from his shirt so she could grip the dog tags and pull him down harder as she kissed his mouth again. Jesus, do I have a metal fetish?

“Fuck!” Bucky growled. His metal fingers fisted into her hair and tugged as he bit her lip harder then sucked on it. Y/N whimpered again and he turned them both around and started walking towards his bed. He released her hair and took a step back. “Strip,” he commanded.

Y/N took off her clothes in record time. Bucky looked her over slowly, the desire in his eyes making them look darker. He took off his dog tags and hung them around Y/N’s neck. The feeling of the metal hitting her sternum made her shiver. He then gripped the chain like she had before and tugged her harshly towards him. “Mine,” he grumbled.

“Yours,” Y/N nodded.

He then pushed her back onto the bed and she quickly crawled backwards until she was laying flat and watching him. Bucky then started to slowly strip out of his clothes, his eyes never leaving her. Once he was fully naked in front of her he started to crawl up the bed until he hovered over her. He leaned on his flesh hand as his metal one reached up towards her mouth. His fingers brushed over her lips, which she obediently opened. “Get them wet for me, doll,” he said lowly. Y/N nodded and sucked his fingers into her mouth. She licked and sucked them heavily until he pulled them out of her mouth and brought them down in between her legs. “That’s so hot, doll,” he said, looking down at her pussy. “You’re good with your mouth, aren’t you? Can’t wait to have you suck my cock soon.”

Y/N gasped then moaned as his metal fingers started slipping through her lower lips, rubbing her all over until they finally found her clit. He rubbed it slowly, then looked at her face as his fingers started vibrating. Her mouth dropped open in a silent moan, her fingers gripping the blanket beneath her for dear life. The way the metal felt against her core was strangely addicting, with his fingers interchanging between warm and cool as he regulated the temperature while they vibrated on her clit. He then left his thumb on her clit while the others dipped down until he could find her entrance, prodding one finger in, then another once he found how wet she was.

“Oh my god!” she cried out. “Buck…Bucky…I-I…fuck!”

“Is this what you wanted, doll?” Bucky smirked. “Is it how you imagined it would be?”

Y/N’s head thrashed as his fingers thrust back and forth into her, the vibrating as they curled against that spot deep inside making her see stars. “Better,” she squeaked. “So much better!”

Bucky smiled wide and leaned down to kiss her again. Within a few moments his touches brought her over the edge and she squealed into his mouth, her hot breaths fanning his face. She was shaking as he slowly pulled his fingers out of her and brought them up to his mouth as he pulled away from the kiss, licking them clean and moaning at the taste of her. “Goddamn, doll,” he said. “Next time I’m gonna take my sweet time tasting you. But right now I just need to be in you.” Y/N nodded tiredly, still recovering from her orgasm. He positioned himself in between her legs, lifting them up and over his hips as he gripped his cock with his flesh hand and pumped himself a few times then ran the tip of it through her wet lower lips. “Do we need protection?” he asked suddenly, glancing up at her face.

“No,” Y/N shook her head, her pussy positively throbbing and begging to be filled.

“God I love this century,” he smiled. Bucky started slowly pushing into Y/N and she shuddered, trying to breath through and adjust to the intoxicating stretch of his cock.

“Bucky…” Y/N breathed as he finally bottomed out. “You feel so good.”

“Fuck doll, you’re perfect,” Bucky huffed, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Best pussy I’ve ever felt, holy shit…”

He leaned back down and started kissing and licking along her breasts, then slowly began his thrusts in and out of her. Y/N felt like she was just trying not to lose her head, but was nearly delirious at how perfectly he fit inside her. All she could focus on was him. All she could see, feel, hear, and taste was him. Bucky’s metal hand slid up her stomach and over her chest, tweaking whichever nipple he wasn’t currently sucking on. It then slid up to her neck where he wrapped his fingers around her throat. Her fingers gripped his metal wrist, her eyes widening as she stared up at him. “Please,” she whispered.

Bucky watched her carefully for any signs of discomfort as he squeezed her throat. He wouldn’t find any. Y/N’s head tilted back, her eyes rolling back into her head as she gasped at the feeling of his fingers around her neck and the grounding effect it had while the restricting of her breath pushed her further into delirium. “Fuck, Y/N,” he moaned. “Where have you been all my life, huh?” He let go of her throat, letting her breathe normally again, but his metal hand went to the dog tags resting in the middle of her sternum, and pulled them so her head was forced up, meeting him halfway. His hips picked up a frantic pace, skin slapping against skin, their combined panting breaths making the moment feel intensely intimate. “You’re mine, you hear me?” he growled, his nose nuzzling hers. The dichotomy of sweetness and possessiveness made her pussy flutter around him. “Mine.”

“Yours,” Y/N promised, nuzzling him back, then kissing his metal knuckles. “Mine.”

“Fuck yeah, I’m yours, all yours doll,” Bucky smirked. He kissed her hard, and it was finally enough to have her cumming again. She screamed into his mouth, her fingers scratching his back and her legs shaking. Bucky shuddered as her pussy gripped him insanely tight. He was right behind her, cumming deep inside her and rutting it further into her until she could feel it leaking down to her ass. His kisses became lazy as his hips came to a stop and they both calmed down, heavy breaths being swallowed by the other as he continued to lick into her mouth to taste her repeatedly. “Shit, Y/N,” he huffed, making her smile.

“Right back at ‘ya, baby,” she grinned.

Bucky’s gaze was flicking around her face, memorizing the moment, his eyes twinkling. “I like being your baby,” he murmured, his metal finger tracing along her cheeks and her nose.

She turned her head and kissed his metal finger. He grabbed the dog tags again and held it up to her lips, and she kissed them. “I like being your doll,” she replied.

#marvel #smut #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #oneshot #request #ask

145 notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year ago

Text

Steal Your Heart (Part 1)

When the calling card of the infamous Knave of Hearts arrives, he’ll rob his victims blind of their most treasured items on the appointed date. Enter ace detective Yuu accompanied by rookie cop Deuce Spade, both seeking to apprehend the Knave and bring him to justice.

Will they succeed, or will the phantom thief steal their valuables--and their hearts--first?

This was originally meant to be one fic, but it was getting to be WAY too long. I decided to split it in half and release this part now and the second part (which I am still working on!) later. This first part focuses more on Yuu and Deuce; the second part will be more Yuu and Ace.

(Please note: there are slight romantic implications in the form of an Ace/Yuu/Deuce love triangle, but those elements could also be interpreted as platonic or as just playful teasing with no additional meaning. It’s all in the eyes of the reader!)

Imagine this...

The police station’s waiting room was a familiar sight.

With time, the shiny checkered floor had grown matte, marred with scratches and scuffs from the boots that crossed it on a daily basis. Someone had taken to attempt to pretty up the otherwise dull space by hanging out abstract paintings on the cream-colored walls, and a vase of white roses dripping with red paint at the check-in desk. There was as even a glass tank which housed a small family of colorful hedgehogs.

Maybe they were meant to be welcoming—but really, they were more clashing than anything. Certainly not a fit for the stiff atmosphere of the station.

Still the fluorescent lightbulbs buzzed faintly, flickering in and out on occasion. The sound distracted from the old television mounted in a corner to entertain guests. It seemed to play commercials on a loop more often than it played actual shows. Currently, an Olympus Corp. branded tablet was being toted as the next big technological marvel—though the TV’s audio was fuzzy at best, and the image half static.

A coffee table pushed to the wall, stacked with a new stash of magazines. Whoever updated the reading materials—most likely the friendly senior officer with orange waves for hair—was into the latest trends, often selecting fashion magazines with high gloss finishes. A dangerously beautiful man graced the covers of many of them, dressed in the hottest summertime styles while looking the part of an untouchable ice queen.

As usual, the station was scented with coffee and tea, the beverages of choice for many officers burning the midnight oil or working overtime. The chief demanded it at times to meet deadlines and goals—he was such a stickler for them—and the caffeine helped those under him stay sane as they went about their duties.

In the afternoons, most were either out on lunch or on patrol, lessening the foot traffic at HQ. There was only one man in uniform, seated behind the desk and filing some papers.

Yuu shifted in their own chair, adjusting the rim of the baseball cap upon their head. They were suited in an inconspicuous jacket and sneakers, fingers toying with a badge in a pocket, hidden out of view. To the common man, they were a jogger--but one flash of their lilac gemstone bound to a black and white striped ribbon, and there would be no doubt as to what their true identity was.

The smell of coffee and tea grew stronger, and Yuu glanced up from behind the bill of their hat.

The bespectacled man from behind the front desk had approached. He had a sheepish smile, bearing a paper cup filled with hot brown liquid and a napkin with a donut laid upon it. Bright pink icing dusted with sugared violet petals crowned the golden fried pastry.

“Detective.”

“Mr. Clover.” Yuu nodded—a terse, polite greeting. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Please, just ‘Trey’ is fine.” He offered the treats, which they readily accepted. “Sorry for calling you in on such short notice. I’m sure you’re busy juggling your other cases—but I think I speak for the entire department when I say we’re thankful that you were able to make it.”

“No worries, I’m used to it in this line of work,” Yuu replied. “It must be something pretty urgent this time around. The Chief sounded frantic over the phone.”

Trey rubbed at his chin, grasping for the right words. “Let’s just say he’s not in the best of moods right now. You’ll need that sugar to get through this in one piece.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“Just trying to avoid any trouble. You’d better finish them before you step into his office. You know how he hates it when there are crumbs or spills in there.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” Yuu gave a joking salute before starting to pack away at their snack. The drink was the instant kind, and practically scalding, but it was easy to tell that the donut was homemade. The pastry, flaky on the outside and fluffy on the inside, dusted with sugar granules and sweet icing. “Wouldn’t want the Chief to be blowing a fuse again.”

“No, definitely not. He’s done too much of that lately.” Trey carefully eyed Yuu’s donut, now only half of it left. “Oh, but be sure to brush your teeth a thorough cleaning tonight, or I might have some problems with you. Cavities and staining are real dangers, you know.”

“Are you Assistant Chief of Police or my dental hygienist?” Yuu took a generous swig, then a bite just as big. “You worry too much about everything.”

“Ahahah… Do I? It’s a habit, I guess. Comes with the job.”

“That stressful, huh?”

“Well, I do what I can to smooth things over. Hopefully you can too. It’s been difficult on our department with the Chief all rattled up about the… situation.” He stopped himself. “I’m sure you’ll hear all about it from him.”

So the case is top-secret, Yuu concluded with the last of their donut. Not to be discussed in the public.

They ran their tongue across the length of their mouth, lapping up the remains of sugary residue. “I understand. The details are not to leave his office.”

“You catch on quickly. No wonder why the Chief thinks so highly of your abilities.”

“Flattery’s a part of your tool kit as well, Trey?”

He raised his eyebrows. “… You’ve worked long enough with us to figure these things out. Nothing gets by you, it seems.”

“UGIGIGIGIGGGGHHHH!!”

The remainder of Yuu’s drink sloshed around in its cup, set into motion by the bloodcurdling scream.

A familiar man with orange waves erupted from the chief’s office, hurriedly slamming the door shut behind him. His typically relaxed features were arranged in panic, his hair frazzled.

“How did trying to calm him work out, Cater?” Trey inquired half-heartedly. It was a courtesy more than genuine curiosity.

“What do you think?” the senior officer groaned, sinking where he stood.

Yuu quickly finished their drink, tossing their trash—the evidence they had been there—away and then stood, adjusting their jacket. “That sounds like it’s my cue.”

“Yeah, it is.” Trey sighed, frowning. “He’s in a tough spot right. Be kind to him, will you? That’s all I ask.”

“You got it.” Yuu tipped their baseball cap as they passed the officer. “Thank you for the pick-me-up. I’ll be seeing you, then. Officer Diamond—get some rest.”

“Good luck.”

“You’ll need it, Yuu-chan! Brace yourself.”

The Police Chief was a small but serious man.

His character came through in his office space: books on law and order neatly arranged on shelves, papers and files alphabetically organized in their cabinets, and pens evenly spaced apart and arranged in rows. A crystal vase with deep red roses was poised beside his writing implements. A plate polished to a fine shine was propped up at his desk, reading: Riddle Rosehearts, Chief of Police.

Perched imposingly despite his short stature in his seat, he impatiently tapped a finger on an arm. Riddle’s face was a telltale red and veiny, proof of his earlier outburst, but was beginning to cool into a faint, smooth pink.

There was already another man in the office, sitting across from the Police Chief. He was pale and jittery in a suit the color of the night and sewn with blue sequins and glitter. A top hat rested upon his raven locks, the brim of it shading his hauntingly golden eyes.

Yuu removed their hat and, keeping it to their chest, gave a shallow bow as they entered. “Sir.”

One move out of line, one hair out of place, and they suspected he, in his volatile and vulnerable state, would explode anew.

“Welcome, Detective. I’m glad you could join us today.” Every word was a gruff puff of air, a leash with which to wrest control of his rage. Riddle gestured to the empty chair beside the nervous man. “Sit.”

Yuu obeyed, sinking into the seat offered. They casted a glance at the stranger adjacent to them, who was fiddling with his velvet-lined gloves.

“Mr. Crowley, this is the independent detective from Stray Cat Investigations that I had previously mentioned to you. The force has collaborated with them for a number of difficult cases in the past. Their wit and strategic skills have made them an invaluable asset. I thought it prudent to have them return to join us for your case as well.

“Yuu, meet Dire Crowley. He is the esteemed director and curator for the Sage’s Island Museum, and he’s come to us with his woes.”

“Hello, Mr. Crowley,” Yuu said politely. “It’s nice to meet you.”

He responded with a tired attempt at a smile. “Yes, you too.”

“Now that we’re all acquainted with one another...” Riddle produced a file from beneath his desk and placed it before himself. “Do you care to explain, or shall I?”

“I-I’ll elaborate!” Crowley crowed. He picked at a collection of keys belted to his waist, glistening gold under artificial lights. “The Sage’s Island Museum is planning a new exhibition on the Great Seven. As part of the exhibit, we are having many priceless artifacts flown in from all over Twisted Wonderland. We have donations from even Briar Valley’s royal family!!

“There will also be a great number of important VIP guests present for the grand opening of the exhibit. Royalty, wealthy benefactors, important diplomats, businessmen, celebrities... All individuals who wish to see their history on display! This is very important, you see!! M-My reputation--er, I mean, the museum’s reputation--is on the line here!!”

“Right.” Yuu nodded as they parsed through the information. “I’m following what you’re putting down. And where does your problem arise, Mr. Crowley?”

“Ah, now that,” Riddle smirked, “is the question of the hour.”

He opened his file, pulling out...

A single playing card, its back facing Yuu.

“I trust you’ve been keeping up with the news?”

“As any good detective would. There have been several robberies lately. Terrible, really.” Yuu’s expression clouded with concentration. “Hmm... but if it’s a potential robbery that you’re concerned about, Mr. Crowley... Doesn’t the Sage’s Island Museum boast a state-of-the-art security system from Olympus Corp.? I doubt the average thief would be able to bypass it.”

“That’s just the trouble,” Crowley loudly lamented.

“We are dealing with no ordinary thief,” Riddle clarified.

“It’s not?”

“No. Far from it.” The Police Chief exhaled sharply. “The string of robberies from before--they’re connected by a single thread, perpetuated by the same lone culprit. And now that scoundrel intends to continue his crime spree.”

“I’ve never heard of this before.”

“You shouldn’t have. It was a top-secret operation within my force since the first of its kind.”

“Why am I being told of it now?”

“Because, loathe as I am to admit it, the culprit has managed to outwit us and elude capture each and every time, He employs a bag of cheap parlor tricks and smoke and mirrors like the coward he is,” Riddle confessed begrudgingly. The blue-grey of his eyes were steely and stubborn. “A case as important as this needs the additional man—and brain—power, Detective.”

He placed the playing card down and slid it toward the detective. “This arrived in the morning at Mr. Crowley’s desk, the same as all the prior robberies. It gave him quite the fright. He rushed all the way to the station to beg for our assistance.”

“This is...” Yuu gingerly turned the card over, revealing a message scrawled on the other side in bright red gel ink. Each letter was big and bubbly, bursting with cheek and pomp.

Their heart jumped.

To the Old Crow that safeguards the Museum,

Heyo~

Your pockets look a lil’ heavy there, so I’ll help you out. (Aren’t I so kind?) Three days from now, I’ll claim one of your most prized treasures at the stroke of midnight.

Stand back and watch as I perform the greatest magic trick you’ll ever see... and make the portrait of the Queen of Hearts vanish before your very eyes. It’ll be a show-stopper!!

Until then,

Phantom Thief Knave of Hearts <3 ;3

P.S. Send the cops my regards, they can’t catch me lol (especially when their teapot tyrant’s patience is in SHORT supply geddit)

“They’re just flat-out announcing what their intentions are,” Yuu realized. They were half impressed, half shocked at the gall. “You said all of the victims received messages like this?”

“Calling cards, yes.” The fury had returned to Riddle’s features, causing his voice to spike and strain. “It’s infuriating!! What does he get off on, misappropriating magic as cheap parlor tricks for crime, writing notes in such a cocksure manner, taunting us to pursue him?!

“Not only is he poking fun at my height and committing a crime, but for mere SPORT?! For the THRILL of it?! He’s making a mockery of the good people of this island and of my men and our efforts to secure the peace!!”

The Police Chief slammed a fist down on his desk, rattling his glass vase and setting his perfectly straight pens askew. Crowley shrunk back in fear. “That Knave of Hearts...!! He must be stopped at all costs!!”

“Y-Yes, absolutely!!” Crowley chimed in. “For my--er, I mean, for the museum’s sake, this criminal must be put behind bars!! That’s why I’ve come to you, my good people!

“My taxpayer dollars help fund the police force, so I’ve come to collect on what its promise to protect and to serve the community!! Well, here’s the community at your doorstep asking you to protect and to serve!!”

“That’s why you want to put me on this case,” Yuu concluded, clasping the calling card to their racing heart. “To prevent this from going down tonight.”

“And furthermore,” Riddle added, “to investigate the identity of this so-called phantom thief once the museum is safely secured.”

“That’s a tall order, sir.”

“You’ll have access to our force’s resources, and to my officers. You will assist in overseeing this operation, with maps and outlines of the museum’s security detail from Mr. Crowley. We’ll cooperate to create a plan of attack to apprehend the Knave.”

“You misunderstand me. I never said I wouldn’t take the job,” Yuu coolly informed the Chief. Their mouth cocked upwards with confidence. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

“Oh, blessed day!! From the very bottom of my oh-so-generous heart, thank you very much!!” Crowley cried tearfully.

For the first time the entire briefing, Riddle smiled back at Yuu. “Hmph. That’s what I like to hear. Happy to be working with you again, Detective.”

“Likewise, Chief.”

The sun had already set when Yuu exited the station, the stars blinking into existence. Several hours had been spent picking the museum curator’s brain with a fine-toothed comb, looking over layouts, and memorizing security detail. The information had been well-stocked, and now came the time to let it marinate and bloom into plans.

Stuffing their hands in their pockets, Yuu shuffled down the sidewalk and past rows of parked vehicles. Ahead, neon lights flashed in and out, and the trains rattled on their well-worn tracks, buses and cars honking at each other, the chatter of street vendors filling the air.

And something different than the usual tonight.

The city never slept, always buzzed with energy. Yuu had become accustomed to its sights and sounds, finding them even comforting. Their best ideas were conceived against the hum of the cityscape. It was just soft enough to not fully distract, but just noticeable enough to tug at their thoughts for long enough to stray into new territories and concepts.

Light from lonely streetlamps created tears in the darkness, illuminating the path to their favorite downtown thinking spot: the Mostro Lounge. A good (albeit overpriced) drink would chase away their tiredness.

Yuu continued with that promise in mind, every step catlike. First quick, next slow, then quick, moderate, slow, quick, slow, quick, moderate. Their speed, ever alternating.

Their ears strained against the sounds of the city, slowly parsing through the individual elements.

Trains, buses, cars, chatter… and the soft footsteps masked by them. Footsteps which matched Yuu’s pace.

There was no mistaking it now.

I’m being followed.

They didn’t look to see who it was—the first rule of tailing a target was to never alert them to your awareness. Yuu would know (as oftentimes they were the one in the position of tailer).

They cast their eyes across the street, which was busy with bodies. Once Yuu merged with the crowd, they could easily shake off their stalker.

Their feet picked up their pace again, hurrying to the crosswalk. It was a glaring red, advising pedestrians to stop.

Shoot, Yuu cursed.

They felt a presence step up beside them. From the corner of their eye, they could make out a dark form--clothes. Yuu pretended to check the time on their phone, and glimpsed him in the reflection.

He was in a hoodie, with the hood pulled up and head down to conceal his features. His hands, too, were out of sight, a sea of baggy fabric hiding identifying features, save for his frame. Lanky, but reasonably packed with muscle to keep up with Yuu.

The man shifted, and his sight grazed theirs. His eyes were hard and icy, a silent threat.

Yuu quickly focused on the crosswalk light. Their heartbeat became as loud as the surrounding sounds. Screeching above the vehicles, shouting from the rooftops. THA-THUMP, THA-THUMP, THA-THUMP.

At last, the light turned from red to white.

Walk.

They started--and so did he.

“Excuse me.” A hand came upon their shoulder. The other pulled at something with a sinister glint. “Do you have a second?”

No walking, Yuu corrected themselves. Run!!

They sprinted down the crosswalk, jostling pedestrians with a hasty “sorry!” thrown back at them. As Yuu weaved through the crowd as fast as they could, they could not completely shunt out the man after them.

“Hey, please wait!! Where are you going?! C-Come back, I need to talk to you!”

His voice carried above the others. People jolted back, the crowd parting to make way for the man to charge forth. His volume swelled louder and louder as he gained on them.

Towering apartments seemed to bear down on Yuu. Their windows, glaring.

A shop. Find a shop and get inside!!

Yuu pumped their arms, pleaded for their legs to move more efficiently.

Again, a weight fell upon their shoulder. It was a clamp, fingers biting Yuu’s skin through their jacket as they dug in and held firm.

The other hand wielded the same shining object that it had before. Yuu looked more closely this time, and the unease in them dissipated. It was not the pointed tip of a knife, but the glint of a familiar officer’s badge wreathed in golden roses.

The man tore off his hood with a sigh--though Yuu noticed that he wasn’t one bit out of breath. Navy bangs fell across his forehead, his eyes a peacock green-blue, much friendlier under the streetlamps than the crosswalk signs.

He smiled at Yuu as though he were greeting an old friend. His grip turned into a tender squeeze. “I finally caught up with you!”

The detective awkwardly pulled away, confusion scrawled on their face. “Um... Sorry, who are you? I don’t believe we’ve met before.”

“Oh! Uh...” The man jumped, retracting his hand. “That’s because we haven’t! Er, not officially anyway, but I’ve heard a lot about you!!”

Yuu pointed to his badge. “That. You’re an officer?”

“Yessir!” The man offered the proof of his identity and stiffly saluted. “Officer Deuce Spade, sir!! I’m a new recruit...!! I just joined the force a few weeks ago!”

Yuu mustered a faint smile. The darned fool was going to give them away. “... Am I in trouble, officer?”

“Nossir! Not at all!” His entire face shone with eagerness, earnest, and a slightly nervous energy. Maybe Yuu would have found it adorable (in the same way that a child trying hard was adorable), were he not blasting your occupation to the public. “Why would you be in trouble, sir?! You’re working with...”

“Okaaay, that’s enough out of you!” Yuu slapped a hand over Deuce’s mouth, silencing him.

Curious onlookers murmured amongst themselves. Some had taken to halt and full-on gawk. Children pointed, adults narrowing their eyes with suspicion.

Yuu frowned, removing their hand to shoo pedestrians away. “Nothing to see here, folks. Just a misunderstanding. Move along, Wonder Boy and I can settle this ourselves.”

“Wonder Boy?” Deuce, in a daze, pointed to himself. “Is that... me?”

“Who else would I be talking about?” Yuu folded their arms. “I assume you’re free now?”

“I am, sir! I was just let off my shift a little while ago, sir!”

“First, drop the ‘sir’. It’s giving me a headache,” Yuu instructed. “Second, if you’re free, then you’ll be joining me for a drink and a chat. We have things to discuss--chief among them being why you were following me.”

Ring-a-ling!

A bell sounded as the door to the Mostro Lounge swung open. Deuce stepped into a new world, Yuu at his side.

The interior itself was dim, but glass lights fastened in the shape of jellyfish projected swimming incandescent lights in purple, blue, and pink. Velvet booths lined one half of the eatery, the other, a glossy bar with tall, narrow stools, the shelves behind it healthily stocked with bottles in jeweled tones. Strangers poised with drink took residence in most of the seats.

The entire back wall had been repurposed into a massive aquarium teeming with aquatic plants and exotic creatures. Seaweed and coral gently swayed to the rhythm of the smooth jazz floating through the lounge, fish frolicking among them.

“Whoooa,” Deuce gasped, craning his head to drink in every detail. “I’ve never been to a place as classy as this. It looks so expensive. You think my salary’s enough to cover at least an appetizer?”

“Hang on tight to your wallet,” Yuu warned. “This place will squeeze you for every thaumark you’re worth and then some—and they won’t feel a bit of remorse about it.”

The detective raised an arm, flagging a nearby waiter.

Their uniform was simple yet sleek: dark dress pants, a white bow tie, spotless gloves, and a cummerbund and suspenders over a lavender button-up shirt. It allowed for slight variation—one waiter skidded by with his shirt buttoned as low as food safety regulations deemed safe. Another jotted down orders with a jacket thrown over his shoulders and a pair of glasses tucked into the crevice of his buttons.

The waiter Yuu called out to approached like a shark fin cutting through still water, neatly bowing to greet their waiting customers. He was prim and proper compared to the other servers, not a button out of place.

When he raised his head, Deuce marveled at his mismatched olive and gold irises, the teal of his hair marred by a stripe of black. Three diamond-shaped scales dangled from his left ear, as sharp as his eyes.

“I bid you welcome to the Mostro Lounge, honored guests,” the waiter said smoothly. He gaze immediately cut to Deuce. “I see you’ve brought a friend with you, today, Yuu-san. How delightfully rare.”

“Acquaintance. We just met outside under… less than ideal circumstances.”

“Oya, how quick you were to seize on that chance encounter. I may even deem you a bigger opportunist than our dear manager.”

“… Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Deuce inquired.

“Perhaps you will find the answer to your question, should you act as a patron at our establishment for long enough.”

“Quit toying with him, Jade. You know what we’re here for,” Yuu grumbled. “My usual.”

“If that is what you wish. And for this gentleman acquaintance of yours?”

“Just ice water is fine, sir!”

Jade maintained his polite smile. “Very well. One glass of ice cold water for you. I will bring you a menu as well, in case you begin to feel peckish late into the night.”

“Oh, thanks!”

“Right this way then.” Jade gestured for the two to follow him.

“He’s upselling you, you know,” Yuu pointed out under their breath. “Hoping that you’ll buy something when presented with the opportunity to spend.”

“E-Eh, he is?! I didn’t even realize…”

“Fufufu. Please, do not let your worries consume you. You have come to relax, correct? We at the Mostro Lounge ask that you put your fins and your feet up and enjoy yourself while the night is still young.”

They were escorted to two empty stools in a (relatively) quiet corner of the bar. The glass jellyfish lights were clustered in the center of the main dining area, leaving the corner like a slice of dark, uncharted waters. Jass music and conversation filtered into a muffled melody.

Yuu plopped down with relief, followed by an apprehensive Deuce. He slowly sank into the cushy seat.

“I will be right back with your drinks. If you will excuse me.” With another bow, Jade rounded the bar and rolled up his sleeves—the transition from waiter to bartender. Presenting his back to the duo, he set to plucking bottles off of the shelves.

Deuce blinked. He still hadn’t taken to fully processing his new surroundings. “Are we really going kick back and have drinks when there’s a serial thief on the loose?”

“We can’t talk about that in public, or risk blowing my cover. It’s safe to talk here,” Yuu reassured him. “What happens in the Mostro Lounge stays in the Mostro Lounge. Say what you want about the slimy staff, but they know how to keep their patrons’ secrets. Client confidentiality and all.”

The young officer brightened. “Ooooh, I get it!”

“… You’re not the sharpest tool in the shed,” Yuu remarked bluntly. They slipped off their baseball cap, letting loose their hair. “So? Let’s have it.”

“Have what?”

“Your reason for following me.”

“Oh!! That.” Deuce nervously scratched at the back of his neck. “That’s kind of…”

The detective drummed their fingers on the polished counter. Methodical, deliberate. “You mentioned that you recently joined the force. However, only senior officials in the police department and myself were privy to this operation. How did you come to learn about it?”

Deuce stiffened, thrown off his beat (if he had any to begin with). “Th-That’s…!”

“I’m asking you a question, Mr. Spade. Please answer me truthfully.”

“I… um… Truth is, I…” Deuce stared at his lap, unable to meet the detective’s eyes. “I might have eavesdropped when I returned from my patrol shift…”

“Go on,” Yuu coaxed.

“There was a report I had to submit to the Chief, but it sounded like he was busy in his office. It’s hard to not notice him when he raises his voice, sir. I decided to wait outside until he was done, and… well, I got curious.”

“Wasn’t Assistant Chief Clover also present? He just let you do that without a single protest?”

“Assistant Chief Clover was very nice to me! He laughed a little and said ‘make sure you don’t get caught with your hand in the cookie jar’!”

Darn it, Trey!! You could’ve been a LITTLE stricter with this guy…! Yuu groaned, massaging the bridge of their nose. “Okay, I think I’m starting to get a better picture of what went down. You followed me wanting to learn more about the operation.”

Like a curious child chasing after a white rabbit. Still immature, still wondering, and still way over their head.

“Yes, but that’s not all!” Deuce insisted. He abruptly stood from the table. “There’s an even more important reason than just satisfying my curiosity, sir!”

Yuu quirked an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

“I had to talk to you—without the Chief around. I had to. That’s why I followed you in secret.” The officer nibbled his lower lip, as if biting back something harsh and bitter from coming up.

“Out with it, Mr. Spade.”

“Pardon the intrusion,” Jade coolly interjected. His tone was nonchalant but his bemused smile was a telltale sign that he was relishing in every second of the hot gossip. “Your beverages.”

He slid two glasses between Yuu and Deuce before departing. One was tall and slim—a highball—loaded with carbonated water and fruity gummies. Yellow for jeweled pineapples, red for ruby berries, green for frozen mint, black for floral cacao, and blue from pure azure salt. It was Yuu’s usual, the famed Mystery Drink. The other glass was, by comparison, an ordinary drink of water, a single large, clear cube of ice floating in it.

A bead of sweat ran down Deuce’s jawline. Condensation forming and racing on his glass of water.

Suddenly, the officer slapped both hands on the counter, slamming his face down upon its surface. His navy hair splayed, forehead touching the table in a display of humility.

Yuu almost spilled their drink. “What are you doing?”

“I’m begging you, sir!! P-Please put me on the mission!!” Deuce pleaded, his voice shaky but resolute. “I… I want to help catch the Knave of Hearts too!!”

“If that’s all you wanted, why ask me? Go through the proper channels to…”

“I can’t!! The Chief would never allow it.” His expression creased with shame. “He says rookies need to work their way up from meter maid to working on cases.”

“He’s right. You need to grow into these things, not rush in head-first in a burst of passion.” Yuu made to take a sip of their drink—but the officer’s fist collided with the counter, the liquid inside the glass sloshing overboard. Seltzer water splashed onto their pant leg, leaving a sticky wet spot on a thigh.

“P-Please reconsider! I know how to handle myself in a fight! I’m fast, I could easily catch up with him if it’s a race on foot!”

“Look,” the detective said irritably, “I don’t know what you’re hoping to accomplish here. Fact is, no matter how much you ask, I wouldn’t want to take you on for this case. You’re too green behind the ears—and sorry, but I just don’t see you as an asset.

“You may be strong and quick on your feet, but it’ll take more than strength and speed to catch the Knave of Hearts. There’s a reason he hasn’t been caught yet.” Yuu tapped at their temple. “It’s this. He’s got smarts, and we need to combat that with smarts of our own.”

“I-I can be smart!! I can try to, at least! Please, just let me try…!!”

Frustrated, Yuu scrutinized the young man again. Their eyes roaming, searching, for detail wrong, a hair out of place.

Years of sleuthing had built up a great amount of cynicism and distrust in the detective. How many times had they pulled back the curtain, revealing the ugly truths hidden out of plain sight? How many bruised egos--both clients and coworkers--had they encountered? People seeking status or to feed their own pride.

Yet when they looked at Deuce, none of that ugliness or ego came through. Here was someone who stubbornly stared right back at Yuu, unwilling to back down, even when his dignity lay in tatters on the floor the instant he prostrated himself.

Another selfish bid for recognition? They ventured, toying with the idea. Maybe personal ambition, looking to climb up in the world.

“... One reason,” Yuu said, holding up an index finger. “Give me one good reason why I should take you on. Convince me.”

Deuce recoiled--as though even he hadn’t expected to have made it this far, or to be taken seriously at all. His brows creased with effort as he racked the recesses of his mind to find the right phrasing.

A second later, he let out a piercing shout.

“GAAAAAAAAH!!”

With a grunt, Deuce grasped his cup of ice water and lifted it to his lips. He hammered the drink in a single swig, releasing a satisfied hoot. The liquid courage had revived the man, returning the spark to him.

In a voice as clear as the drink he had just downed, Deuce said, “It’s for my mom. She’s just about the sweetest, most hard-working person I know.”

He hung his head and slammed his empty cup down, shaking the entire table.

“She raised me as a single parent. Mom never once complained, only wanted the best life for me.” Deuce glared into his glass, speaking with scorn and anger--not at others, but for himself. “And how did I repay her? I... turned to delinquency.

“I acted out because I wasn’t man enough to do the mature thing and work on myself!! She blamed herself for my stupid decisions! I made mom worry for me so, so much...”

Plip, plip.

Deuce faltered, letting quiet tears dribble down his cheeks and landing on the cube of ice left in his glass. Once they made contact with the frozen block, it was impossible to tell what was water and what was salt.

“I swore to myself that I would turn my life around... to show mom that it’s not her fault, that she did all she could to raised someone who could contribute to society!! So I studied really hard at the police academy, and even though my grades were crappy, I managed to graduate...!!”

He choked up, a concoction of fiery passion infused in his stuttering words. “I can finally be that model officer and make a change in the community! But I haven’t done a damn thing...! I just play meter maid while bad guys are out there running free, when I could be out there making this city a safer place for mom and everyone that lives here...!!”

The noises of the lounge seemed to fade into a stoic silence around Deuce. His declaration reverberated loudly. “I have to do this. I need to do this.”

He bowed again, his forehead pressed hard against the surface of the table. The single word he uttered was hoarse, desperate.

“Please.”

Deuce pried himself up almost painfully. The eyes were aquamarine, wet with hot tears. Something shone through them in shades of blue and green, priceless as any treasure: an honesty that burned like an eternal flame.

Yuu startled, striken by a single, haunting revelation: He’s telling the truth.

“... I don’t think I’ve met someone like you before,” they said cryptically. “I don’t doubt your story—but as touching as it is, I don’t know if...”

Hesitation reared its head, and Yuu forced themselves to look away. Couldn’t bear to see him, that wide-eyed sincerity.

Emotion clashing with their sound logic. Two things that shouldn’t have belonged together colliding.

Wait... things that don’t belong together? Things I didn’t expect, surprises and twists to the tale...

A ex-delinquent turned into a policeman. A selfishness turned selfless. An anticipated lie turned into a truth. Something there that hadn’t been before.

The detective’s mind raced, quickly outpacing the words leaving their mouth. A solution which subverted expectations, a trap laced with honey for a man with sticky fingers.

That’s it. We’ll pull a trick of our own.

“Okay, I’ve changed my mind,” Yuu abruptly announced. “You’re in on this operation, Mr. Spade.”

“R-Really?!” Deuce’s face nearly tore in half, his volume revving up like a motorcycle engine. “You mean it?!”

“I do.”

Yuu took a cool sip of their Mystery Drink. Flavors from all over Twisted Wonderland cascaded over their tongue—a triumphant, fleeting pleasure.

They set their glass down and bent over, gripping Deuce by the strings of his hoodie. Yuu tugged, bringing the policeman lurching forward.

His clammy forehead against theirs. Centimeters away, his eyes widened. A flushed heat climbed to his cheeks, his voice set in a stammer.

“S-Sir, what are we...”

“You’ll have to follow my instructions very carefully,” Yuu replied with a devious grin. “Listen up, rookie: cuz you’re going to be the star of this show. Here’s the plan...”

The ambience of the lounge drowned out Yuu’s whispers. From afar, their words could only be read through the shapes of their mouth, the increasingly confused and alarmed expressions that Deuce pulled.

Jade observed them patiently, chuckling to himself. “My, my, it seems like our genius detective has found yet another solution.”

CLATTER, CLATTER!!

A tray piled high with empty plates and dishes was slammed down. Jade’s twin peered around the stack, leaning lazily against the bar.

“Eeeh, but I bet against them this time.”

“Playing the contrarian runs its risks.” Jade picked up a glass, staring at his brother through it. The golden orb called his left eye was clear as a topaz. “As for myself, I’m excited to see how this plays out.”

PAP.

A notepad came down on the table as a third waiter joined them.

“Both of you need to stop gossiping and get back to work,” their manager chided, sliding the notepad—scrawled with fresh orders—to Jade. “Leave the customers to tend to their own business. We’ll soon know the outcome.”

[To be continued...]

243 notes · View notes

jessamine-rose · 5 months ago

Text

⋆˚♱ଘ Phantom Pain ଓ♱˚⋆

When I wrote the first fic of my Yandere Church AU, I never expected it to expand into a whole series. Now it’s time for Cartaphilus! Dainsleif x Yandere! Demon! Reader………and yes, Dain is the darling in this fic ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ̀ˋ

I hope y’all enjoy their twisted story and the cameos to my previous fics!! Special thanks to my beta-reader @diodellet, @brynn-lear who helped me with Dain’s characterization, and all of my mutuals who listened to my brainrot~

Tw:: YANDERE, psychological trauma, blood, graphic violence, death, stalking, dubcon, noncon, mention of nsfw, MDNI, please take note of all of these warnings

Notes:: Female reader, FICTIONAL depictions of religion, inspired by Cartaphilus from The Ancient Magus’ Bride, I’m sorry Dain (*´꒳`*)

♡ 7.3k words under the cut ♡

♡ Among God’s creations, His favorite is granted a special fate. Though all lives end in death, only humanity is blessed with salvation and afterlife. Those who live righteously may thus ascend to Heaven, whereas sinners are condemned to eternal suffering in Hell. There is, however, one exception—a fragment of humanity whose sins may never be forgiven.

♡ Legends speak of Khaenri’ah, the nation of sinners. Once the pride of humankind, its citizens challenged God through their creations in alchemy and technology—and the entire nation was subsequently destroyed in a sea of flames. In the wake of the Cataclysm, pollen from the Tree of Life rained down upon the survivors, afflicting them with their final punishment, immortality.

♡ Since then, Khaenri’ahns have roamed the mortal plane in a perpetual state of living. Denied a place in Heaven and Hell, they are cursed to live forever no matter what harm befalls their body and psyche. Due to their wicked reputation, they must also live in fear of their once-fellow humans, lest they face persecution. For this reason, eternity differs among Khaenri’ahns.

♡ After the Cataclysm, the survivors scattered across Teyvat. Many established secret communities to preserve their culture and find solace in companionship. Others settled in foreign nations, periodically assuming new identities to evade suspicion. And a few became travelers, moving from place to place with no home to call their own.

♡ One such traveler is Dainsleif. After failing to prevent the destruction of his nation, he began an endless journey around Teyvat. His initial goal was to protect his fellow survivors and seek a cure for their curse. But as Khaenri’ah faded from memory, so did its people. Many succumbed to pain, madness, violence—and despite his best efforts, Dainsleif was unable to save any of them. In the perpetual meantime of a cruel eternity, all he could do was travel onwards, clinging to a thread of hope.

♡ That all changes when he wanders into the ruins of an ancient temple, 300 years after the Cataclysm. Had he known it was a place of worship, Dainsleif would have camped outside. But the structure is abandoned, inconspicuous, a perfect shelter against the ongoing storm. So he goes inside, lighting the way with his Khaenri’ahn sorcery. And only when he meets you does he realize he’d set foot in unholy ground.

♡ A pattern glows on the floor—a summoning circle he’d unknowingly stepped into, concealed with splatters of dried blood. From it, a winged figure emerges in a burst of light and slams him against the cracked tiles. Dizzily, he registers a strong hand pressing down on his neck, an aura of overwhelming divinity, a brilliant glare that strikes fear into his very soul.

˖⋆‧˚✦

“Ah, let’s see. Just when I thought this place had succumbed to the elements, who has the insolence to summon me?”

In your divine presence, Dainsleif can only look up and take in your inhuman features. Sharp talons. Four wings with silvery black-and-gray feathers, resembling an eagle’s plumage. A single horn jutting from the left side of your head. Eyes as bright as miniature suns.

A demon. How in the world did he summon a demon?

He glances at the sigil etched on the floor. From what he knows of these rituals, they are only successful if specific instructions are followed and the demon’s true name is uttered. Was it because he used Khaenri’ahn sorcery within the summoning circle?

He meets your gaze. “I never intended—”

Your eyes widen. “Oh?”

Still gripping his neck, you lift him up and brush the loose strands of hair away from his face. The action uncovers his eyes, bright blue with pupils shaped like four-pointed stars.

“A Khaenri’ahn?”

At this point, Dainsleif doesn’t know what to do. He struggles in your grasp, only to stop when your talons dig into his skin. Your gaze remains locked onto his.

Slowly, your lips curve into a fanged smile.

“And such a pretty one at that.”

˖⋆‧˚✦

♡ Somehow, Dainsleif’s curse has saved him from your wrath. Still, he remains vigilant as you put him down and demand to hear his life story—why, when you have already glimpsed his soul? Reluctantly, he tells you everything from his previous life to the circumstances that brought him to your temple. Once he is finished, you allow him to stay in your temple until the storm ends.

♡ As you move, he notices a trio of jagged scars on your body—one on each shoulder, another one between your first pair of wings. He makes no mention of it, however, and instead asks for your identity. In response to that, you give him an enigmatic smile, whisper your true name, and promptly disappear. The only proof of your encounter is the dark bruise around Dainsleif’s neck.

♡ He doesn’t sleep well. At the crack of dawn, he gets up and does a quick exploration of the temple ruins. From the looks of it, it could be thousands of years old. There are sculpted images of suns, beasts, and paradises. The bloodstained floor implies a violent end for the previous intruders—or was it from your official summoning rituals? At any rate, one thing is clear: You are a powerful demon, one who was previously worshiped as a false god.

♡ He leaves after sunrise, relieved to have survived the ordeal…only for your paths to cross a few days later. And the week after that. Again and again. Most of the time, you appear out of nowhere, invisible to everyone except for Dainsleif. Other times, your presence manifests in a stray feather, inhuman shadows, the persistent feeling that he is being watched.

˖⋆‧˚✦

“Oh, hello, Dain. Did you enjoy your drink?”

“...What have you done?”

In the dark alley, your bloody visage is a terrifying sight. A human is passed out at your feet, their arm covered in deep scratches and blackened veins.

Dainsleif takes a step back. That person…isn’t that the drunkard who tried to start a fight with him at the tavern?

A sinister smile appears on your face. “Don’t worry, I just cast a little curse on them.”

˖⋆‧˚✦

♡ He doesn’t know what to make of his situation. In Khaenri’ah, demons were perceived as wicked creatures that lead humanity down the path of sin. You have yet to harm him, unless your plan is to lull him into a false sense of security first. It would certainly explain your frequent visits, your honeyed words, your cheerful demeanor around him.

♡ During your encounters, he asks you questions. As it turns out, it is difficult to find information on you. Humans usually refer to a specific demon by their title, so your true name is only useful when he is addressing you. You don’t reveal much about yourself, apart from the fact that your current role in Hell is torturing the souls of deceased sinners.

♡ The answer is found in the Sumeru Akademiya. The House of Daena has a forbidden archive that includes grimoires, research on spiritual beings, as well as related literature. It doesn’t take long for him to find the hidden room. As he examines the bookshelves, he notices a few written records of Khaenri’ah, all of which depict his people in a negative light.

♡ He begins with a book about the celestial hierarchy. According to the writer, there are nine ranks of angels and only the Second Order, the Cherubim, have two pairs of eagle wings. They also have four heads—human, lion, ox, eagle…and in the accompanying illustration, the animal heads are located in the exact same place as your scars.

♡ Next is the grimoire of Il Dottore. He flips through the section dedicated to demons, skimming the notes and sigils. There is the Puppeteer, the Fair Lady, the Seeker of Forbidden Knowledge whom Dottore formed a pact with, and so on. Finally, he comes across a familiar sigil.

The Beheaded Cherub

-True name: ______

-Created in the ███ Era, fell from grace in the ██████ Era

-Basic status: 1 head (human), 1 set of fangs (lion), 1 horn (ox), 2 pairs of wings and 10 talons (harpy eagle)

-One of the most powerful demons in Hell by virtue of her previous rank and her prominence in human cognizance. She was once venerated as a false god by the Temple of Light.

-Prior to her descent, she was called “the Beast of Beatitude.” █████ says her divine punishment was the loss of her animal heads and the development of her beastly traits.

-A unique specimen. It is a pity that I could not obtain a sample of her. If we meet again, more insight can be gained into the mental faculties of a fallen Cherub.

♡ The next page has an illustration drawn from memory. It’s you. An ornate choker protects your neck, and your expression is one of wrath. There is also a report of Dottore’s encounter with you: He’d trapped the Puppeteer via exorcism and obtained one of his wings. Before he could do worse, you suddenly appeared and rescued Scaramouche. Dottore theorized that you left without attacking him because you saw the Cherub’s skeleton in his laboratory.

♡ That book leads Dainsleif down a rabbit hole of texts. Historical records of the Temple of Light. Literary depictions of “the Beheaded Cherub.” The sketchbook of an artist whose muses were demons. Reports of mysterious curses that manifested in pain and disfigurement. All of those sources point to you.

♡ Well, one thing is clear: He is doomed. It’s bad enough that he is dealing with a spiritual being, what more a powerful one. It is at this moment that he senses your presence behind him.

˖⋆‧˚✦

“Hello, Dain. I see you’ve figured out who I am.”

This time, he doesn’t look at you. “You never told me of your appetite for humans. Just how many were sacrificed for the Temple of Light’s offerings?”

Silence. Dainsleif continues to face the desk, closing the book in his hands.

Finally, you answer him. “That was not my command. The Temple of Light was founded by one of my earliest humans. Most of their beliefs and rituals were his own ideas, believe it or not.”

“And where is he now? Is he one of those sinners that you are so fond of torturing?”

He can imagine the sight behind him: You, in all of your demonic glory, casting large shadows against the walls. It is easy to reconcile your image with your sinister depictions.

“No,” you reply. “Once a human dies, all of their pacts are broken. As such, I have no reason to maintain ties with my former humans, especially the one who gave me such a wretched title. I let my coworkers handle their punishments.”

“And do you intend to make a deal with me as well?”

It is the only rational explanation he can think of.

“Wrong again. As a matter of fact, demons cannot form pacts with Khaenri’ahns, hence our indifference to your kind. What use is there for a soul that will never enter Hell?”

Dainsleif glances at the Lesser Key of Deshret. According to that source, most humans sought you out for the purpose of cursing their enemies.

He turns around. “Let me ask you this. Why are you following me?”

In the candlelight, your gaze has never looked more intense. “Is it not enough to say that I am mesmerized by you?”

The look he gives you is one of pure doubt.

You stand in front of him, touching his half-mask.

“I saw it all, Dainsleif,” you tell him, “when I looked into your soul. Your righteousness as the Twilight Sword, your perseverance after the Cataclysm, the hope you’ve clung to for all these centuries…I find it all so fascinating.”

He pulls away, glaring. “Is that all? A mere sense of curiosity?”

You smile at him. “Well, there is also your beauty. When I look at you, I can almost understand why humanity is the only creation which God deemed perfect.”

“Your flattery is as banal as it is unwarranted,” he scoffs. Stepping aside, he tidies up the desk and returns the books to their shelves. “I have never received the favor of God in the past. I don't see any reason I would need yours now or in the future, either.”

That is when you burst into laughter.

“Are you sure about that? Believe me, Dain, I have a lot to offer.”

As you push him against the wall, your expression becomes deathly serious.

“Two centuries ago,” you whisper, “a Khaenri’ahn was burned at the stake in Fontaine. She survived, of course, but was left with scars that will never heal. Another one encountered the wrong group of heretics and, to this day, his body is being used for their rituals.”

“I…” Dread pools up in his stomach. Does he know those individuals?

“And just last year, I heard the Church of Snezhnaya discovered a community of Khaenri’ahns and buried everyone alive. They’re all trapped underground, barely conscious. But even if they are freed, I doubt their bodies could still function after being deprived of nutrients for so long.”

Snezhnaya…are you talking about the one led by Pierro?

“Oh, and how could I forget?” You lean closer, your eyes reflecting Dainsleif’s agonized face. “Long before the Cataclysm, the Tree of Life disappeared from the human realm. Nobody, not even the angels, knows if it still exists. What more for the Khaenri’ahns who dedicated their eternity to searching for it?”

No.

If the Tree of Life is gone…

Does that mean there is truly no way to break the curse?

At this point, Dainsleif is trembling. “______, please tell me you are—mph!”

There is nothing gentle about your kiss. The back of his head hits the wall, and his mask falls to the floor. When he tries to resist, you capture his wrists in an iron grip.

It’s too much. Panicking, he resorts to his Khaenri’ahn sorcery but the galaxy-like aura is easily extinguished by your radiant light. You spread your wings, caging him in silvery feathers. Sharp fangs graze his bottom lip. He can’t do anything. He has to call for help—

Footsteps echo outside the room.

Just as quickly as the idea comes to mind, Dainsleif falls silent. What is he thinking? What if the scholar sees his cursed marks and realizes he is a Khaenri’ahn?

He stays still, praying the door remains locked. When the footsteps recede, he slumps against the wall.

His relief isn’t lost on you. Pulling away, you trace the blue veins and black marks on his face. A sinful smile plays on your lips.

“Do you understand, darling? No one, not even God, will save you.”

˖⋆‧˚✦

♡ After that revelation, Dainsleif continues to wander Teyvat. But he does so aimlessly, in your company. There are attempts to ward you off—religious objects, carefully-worded negotiations, a few hours spent inside a church—but all end in your amused reactions. It becomes routine for you to meet him every few days, providing Mora for his expenses and information on the places he visits.

♡ Your threats are no laughing matter. Thankfully, your violence never exceeds the severity of your first meeting. A strong grip on his hand. Talons playfully tracing his cursed marks. There is that time you swooped in, picked him up, and threatened to drop him off a cliff for trying to hide from you…then you later brushed it off as an empty threat.

♡ You’re also very affectionate, if such a word can be used to describe a demon. At one point, you begin leaving gifts for him—a new cloak, bejeweled hairpins, gems in the same shade of blue as his eyes. He tries to decline your gifts on the basis of practicality but you’re difficult to persuade. Moreover, he keeps finding your stray feathers on his clothes.

♡ Then there is the matter of your physical intimacy. By now, Dainsleif is used to your kisses and cuddles. The worst part is when your hands wander, when you defile his body after sundown, when his resistance crumbles into moans and tears. Those nights always end in his skin tainted with love bites, teeth marks, light scratches. Thankfully, you are unable to brand him with your sigil though that doesn’t stop you from longingly biting the back of his neck.

˖⋆‧˚✦

“______, that’s enough.”

“Hmm?” You press another kiss to his shoulder. “What did you say?”

He gives you a tired look. “I need to sleep.”

Just how unending is a demon’s stamina? It’s past midnight, and he doubts he will be able to leave the bed later. Perhaps he can ask the innkeeper for an extension.

“All right.” You pull the blankets over the two of you. Then you wrap your arms around him, keeping him close. “I’ll give you enough Mora for a week’s stay.”

He lies on his side, staring at the wall. “You don’t have to.”

It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep. In a few minutes, your grip loosens and all Dainsleif can hear is his own breathing. Carefully, he turns over to face you.

…He never knows how to deal with you after your depravity has been exhausted. You’re always gentle as you clean him up and cuddle him in bed. When you sleep, you are no different from a corpse. No sounds, no movements, a neutral expression on your face.

Sighing, he shifts to a more comfortable position and closes his eyes.

When he wakes up, you are gone. Your side of the bed is still warm.

˖⋆‧˚✦

♡ A few years later, you decide to accompany Dainsleif in a different form. It all starts when he meets a fellow traveler in Mondstadt. They’d camped in the same forest and it was hard to ignore them, especially when they asked for his help. In the end, Dainsleif relented and they explored the forest together. He thought it would be safe since you never visit him on Sundays.

♡ He leaves the forest the next morning, after agreeing to lunch at a nearby tavern. But when he arrives, he finds his acquaintance being restrained and dragged into a medical vehicle. They are absolutely feral, but most alarming are the wounds on their face. Before they pass out, Dainsleif makes eye contact with them and notices an indigo glint in their eyes.

♡ A waiter fills him in on what happened: His acquaintance suddenly went mad, made a mess in the tavern, and ran straight into a mirror. When Dainsleif visits them at the clinic, they are visibly disoriented, claiming they didn’t know what came over them. They are escorted home a few days later, their face covered in scars, and Dainsleif never sees them again.

♡ The next day, he is strolling around Mondstadt City when a familiar pair of arms wraps around him. He muffles a gasp and turns around to give you a subtle glare—have you forgotten that he is in public?—only to stop when he sees you. Your demonic features are gone, and you are wearing traveler’s attire. Moreover, the surrounding humans can also see you.

˖⋆‧˚✦

“So, darling, do you like my human guise?”

The smile hasn’t left your face. It’s natural, considering the fact that Dainsleif is the one holding your hand and leading you to a secluded spot.

He lets go of you. “What are you planning now?”

You frown, placing the same hand over your chest. “I just wanted to spend more time with you. It’s no fun when you ignore me in the presence of humans.”

“______.” Your name leaves his lips in an exasperated voice. “How can I be sure that you won’t draw more attention to me?”

“Hey, have more faith in me,” you pout. In this form, you look significantly less imposing. “I’ve used this guise many times in the past. And isn’t it easier for you to interact with me this way, rather than pretend I’m not right in front of you?”

It’s not like any amount of persuasion would work on you.

He sighs. “Well, that’s as good a reason as any. Follow me, then.”

With that, the two of you return to the Market District. Dainsleif orders two chicken-mushroom skewers, not missing the way your eyes sparkle when he asks you if you want anything else.

A few feet away, a Mondstadter casts a flirtatious glance at him. But before they can approach him, you wrap your arm around his waist and scare them off with a fervent glare.

˖⋆‧˚✦

♡ Your human guise brings about more changes in Dainsleif’s journey, from couple promos to less strangers bothering him. At times, you break away from him to pet wild animals or purchase items for yourself. In those moments, he can’t help but watch you from a distance. Your face is capable of many expressions, he observes, some of which are actually quite nice to look at.

♡ You also continue to share valuable information with him. Once, Dainsleif picks up a book entitled Molten Moment. In the foreword, the author claimed that it was based on the life of a demon they’d formed a pact with. Not only did you confirm the truth to their story, you also stop at a certain chapter. In it, the protagonist spoke to a Power whose true name was of Khaenri’ahn origin.

♡ That is how Dainsleif learns there are angels who look like Khaenri’ahns. They have the same starry eyes and facial features as his people, though God stopped creating them a long time ago. Many of them became demons for opposing the Cataclysm out of personal attachment to Khaenri’ah. And those who remained as angels rarely use their human guise in the present.

♡ And when Dainsleif asks about the Power featured in the book, you give him a sad smile. Then you say something about a fight you lost, sparring sessions, and regular conversations. In the present, however, your encounters with Il Capitano are only a painful reminder that you are “no longer at full strength.”

♡ You also explain that unlike angels, demons typically aren’t close with one another. Though you do mention a pair of younger demons that you took in after their descent. There is a soft look in your eyes every time you talk about Scaramouche and Pantalone, and you like to buy souvenirs for them. In times like this, Dainsleif is reminded of the family he lost, the home he can never return to.

˖⋆‧˚✦

Bright. It’s too bright.

Dainsleif looks up. The sky is crimson, reflecting the sea of flames consuming his homeland.

Beneath him, the ground shatters into fragments. Screams of terror echo in the distance. All around him, he is greeted with chaos and destruction.

Where is Halfdan? What happened to the Royal Guards? How many more people are going to meet their end?

Suddenly, a ray of light shines upon his nation, so bright that it hurts his eyes. What are those particles raining down from the sky?

It burns.

He falls to his knees, coughing. Something is wrong. His body…he raises his right hand and watches in horror as the skin becomes corrupted.

Amidst his pain, all he can think of are the people he failed to protect.

“Dain? Dain, wake up!”

The holy light disappears.

Blearily, Dainsleif opens his eyes to darkness. A hand is on his shoulder, shaking him awake.

“What…?”

“Shh, it’s okay.” Your face comes into view. Gently, you pull him into a sitting position and rub soothing circles on his back. “It was just a dream.”

Another nightmare.

He glances at the window. The night sky is cloudy.

“Take deep breaths,” you continue. Your eyes, shining with a soft radiance, are the only source of light in the room. The tip of your wing brushes against his cheek—was he crying in his sleep?

For once, Dainsleif doesn’t back away from your touch. He leans against you, trying to steady himself, his gaze still fixed on the starless sky.

Hesitantly, you ask, “It was about the Cataclysm, wasn’t it? Do you want to talk about it?”

“...There is no need,” he mumbles. “My dreams are a rarity. I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s fine.”

He draws back, taking note of your worried expression. “Did I startle you?”

“Ah, not really,” you reply. Strands of hair are tangled around your horn, and you comb them out with your fingers. “....Though if I’m going to be honest, a part of me was curious.”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

Your wings twitch. “It’s nothing, really. It’s just…I’ve always wondered what a nightmare feels like, since I am incapable of dreaming.”

“I see…is that a common trait amongst demons?”

You shake your head. “No. In fact, it’s one of the first abilities a demon gains after their descent. But in the millennia since I’ve been cast out of Heaven, I haven’t had a single dream.”

His gaze drifts to your scars. “Does it have something to do with your divine punishment?”

As soon as you look away, he realizes it was a correct guess.

“Say, darling,” you mutter. “Can you stand the sight of your cursed marks?”

He looks at his right hand. “At one point, I stopped dwelling on it.”

“Well, at least those marks are easy to cover up.”

This time, Dainsleif is the one staring at you.

This isn’t his first time seeing cracks in your demeanor. He has noticed many over the years, from the occasional headache to your wistful gaze directed at eagles flying overhead. Once, you suddenly flinched and touched one of your scars, only to brush it off when he asked about it.

Even if you take pride in your demonic visage, it doesn’t erase the scars of your past.

“Do you believe your god to have punished you fairly?”

You meet his gaze, frowning. “What did you say?”

“Forgive me for being direct,” he tells you. “You do not pry into my secrets, so I never pried into yours…but if you would like to tell me, I will listen.”

For a few seconds, you just stare back at him. Are you glimpsing his soul again? From his end, all he can see is your gaze turning dim.

“My answer is no.”

Your expression turns bitter. Dainsleif lets you elaborate.

“When I was an angel,” you whisper, “I used all four of my heads. Seeing the world from every angle, speaking in different sounds, expressing multiple emotions at once…those abilities are what set the Cherubim apart from the rest of God’s creations.”

Your jewelry glitters on the nightstand. Earlier today, you’d worn an esclavage necklace with three cameo pendants. Each pendant bears the image of an animal—a lion, an ox, an eagle.

“So you can imagine how difficult it was to lose them,” you continue. You grip your upper arms, talons digging into your skin. “My beastly heads, all reduced to dust before my remaining eyes. And even then, our creator did not spare what was left of my body.”

A mirror hangs on the wall. It perfectly reflects Dainsleif’s cursed marks and your sorrowful countenance.

“This face was perfectly human until I grew fangs. My talons will always be in my line of sight. And don’t even get me started on the differences between halos and horns. It’s not…!”

Your voice cracks. At the same time, Dainsleif scoots closer to you.

In the dark, your expression looks tired. Resigned.

“So who cares if I looked down on humanity?” you mumble. “Why couldn’t I be forgiven? By now, I’ve lived over half of my life as a demon and yet…it still hurts.”

That ends your confession. You stare at your lap, wings lowered.

What is he supposed to say in this scenario?

From the beginning, Dainsleif knew it would be meaningless to believe in baseless depictions of demons. Still, it’s perplexing to see this side of you, to feel sympathy for the present source of his vexation and anxiety.

Yet in this moment, he finds himself reaching out to you. He copies your soothing gesture from earlier, placing his hand on the area between your wings.

You allow it, resting your head on his shoulder. After a few minutes, you break the silence.

“You know, darling, I’ve always wondered…why do you remain unchanged? Why do you still choose to live righteously when you will never be rewarded with a place in Heaven?”

He looks you in the eye. “That was never my goal. All I’ve ever dreamed of was peace. So even if there is no more hope for me…there must be for my fellow humans.”

At that, you hold his cursed hand and give him a pitying look.

“But darling…at this point, can you even call yourself human?”

˖⋆‧˚✦

♡ Decades pass. Dainsleif continues to wander Teyvat, with you as his sole companion. By now, he has long grown tolerant of your presence…and he has even begun to crave it on the days when you are busy in Hell. But he keeps it a secret, along with the sparks of attraction that he is beginning to feel towards you. Instead, he chalks it up to loneliness. That must be it.

♡ Despite that, his affection reveals itself in subtle gestures. Mint brew for your headaches. Practical gifts such as gloves and weapons. Once, the two of you were exploring Dragonspine when he noticed that your scarf had loosened. He adjusted it for you, careful not to touch your scars; and after your initial shock, you stared ahead and quietly thanked him.

♡ These days, he can’t find any Khaenri’ahns apart from a few descendants. In those cases, he has a short conversation with them then leaves without divulging their ancestry. It’s enough to know that those individuals are spared from the curse and able to live ordinary lives, though he wonders if their ancestors are doing well. He can’t make any new friends, either, due to your possessive nature though he does get acquainted with your “family.”

♡ One day, he wanders Liyue on his own and encounters a bespectacled local. He introduces himself as “the Regrator” and commissions Dainsleif to collect Noctilucous Jade for him. With nothing else to do, Dainsleif accepts the job but is later paid a much higher price than the 500 Mora he’d charged. But when he objects, the Regrator gives him a saccharine smile and tells him that he is “merely showing generosity towards his Jiejie’s pet.” Then he disappears.

♡ A year after that encounter, you attend the concert of a Snezhnayan singer. The Balladeer has an emotional voice, but Dainsleif is distracted by a familiar glint in their eyes. After the performance, you bring him to the dressing room. The Balladeer is slumped over a chair, their eyes branded with a sigil, and an indigo-eyed demon looms over them. As you congratulate Scaramouche on “another excellent possession,” Dainsleif dreadfully recalls the traveler he met in Mondstadt.

♡ He confronts you about it in your hotel room. A part of him did suspect your involvement in his acquaintance’s disfigurement, but it’s different when you are guiltlessly confirming it. After a fiery argument, Dainsleif goes to sleep and coldly ignores you for the remainder of his stay in Snezhnaya. It was foolish of him to forget about your sinister nature.

♡ Not long after, he realizes that he hasn’t seen you in days. That is odd—usually, you inform him in advance if you have to stay in Hell for an extended period. Or did his outrage finally have its desired effect on you? He continues his journey, nonetheless, but it feels…different. Since meeting you, he had the assurance that his solitariness is only short-lived, that you’d always come back to bother him. But now? He isn’t so sure.

♡ He stops finding molted feathers on his clothes. When he looks in the mirror, he notices that your love bites have all but faded completely from his body. At the sight of his cursed marks, he recalls the nights you’d spend lovingly tracing the corrupted skin. You once told him that the luminous veins compliment his blue eyes, and his response had been a withering look.

♡ He goes to Sumeru. The House of Daena has undergone multiple renovations, and the secret archive has been moved to a new room. He rereads the texts about you and Khaenri’ah, taking note of each inaccuracy. How many years ago was his last visit? Has it really been 200 years since the day he crossed paths with you? So much has changed since then.

♡ Afterwards, Dainsleif finds himself wandering the area near Khaenri’ah. He hasn’t set foot in his homeland ever since the Cataclysm, but memory is a dangerous temptation. Just as he is about to walk away, he hears a loud sob and runs into the ruins.

♡ He finds a young person kneeling in a patch of Inteyvat flowers, hands clasped in prayer. When he calls out to them, they lift their head to reveal tears and star-shaped pupils in their eyes. Their face, however, is pristine. Are their cursed marks concealed with makeup? Or are they just a descendant of Khaenri’ah? Dainsleif crouches in front of them, offering his help…and that is when the person’s destitute expression twists into an eerie grin.

♡ Suddenly, the Inteyvat wrap around his limbs, restraining him. A heavy weight strikes the back of his head—the blunt side of a sword? Through his blurry vision, he watches as a celestial halo and a pair of glittery wings emerge from the body of the “Khaenri’ahn.” Two similar silhouettes appear near them, one in bronze armor and the other adorned with flowers. Everything goes dark.

♡ When he wakes up, he is in what seems to be a church. His body is chained to the altar and he feels dizzy, fading in and out of consciousness. From the looks of the stained-glass windows, it is already night. Beside him is a wounded figure, also restrained, more skeleton than flesh. They blankly stare ahead, unresponsive to his questions, and…is that Halfdan?

♡ The horrifying revelation is worsened by the presence of his attackers. From what Dainsleif can recall of the books he’d read, they are angels from the Second Sphere. The Dominion’s starry gaze is full of hatred as they narrate his comrade’s life after the Cataclysm. Halfdan had stayed behind to search for survivors, up until the angels took over their home. And in the decades since, he had been starved, tortured, kept alive only by the curse.

♡ By the end of their speech, all hope has left Dainsleif. Already, he is on the brink of passing out again and the chains have neutralized his Khaen’riahn sorcery. How can fate be so cruel to him? As the Dominion flies over to him, their multiple eyes blazing with cruelty, he whispers an apology to Halfdan and braces himself for a new world of suffering.

♡ Except they never lay a hand on him. In a burst of light, a taloned hand grabs the Dominion by the halo and slams them against the marble tiles. The other angels scream and cower in fear, a familiar name leaving their lips. Halfdan remains catatonic. As for Dainsleif, all he feels is pure relief at the sight of his savior.

♡ At this moment, you have never looked scarier. Your face is twisted in an expression of animalistic rage, and your glare could outshine the sun. You curse the Dominion this time, followed by the Virtue and the Power, before flying over to Dainsleif and breaking his chains. Before he faints again, he manages to point at Halfdan and beg you to help him as well.

♡ How long was he asleep? When he wakes up, the stained-glass windows are all shattered to reveal a sky the color of twilight. He and Halfdan have been moved to a corner of the church, kept warm by a blanket. And when he looks around the holy sanctuary, all he can see is carnage.

♡ Pieces of armor and flesh are scattered across the floor—the Power, brutally dismembered. Slumped against the double doors is the body of the Virtue, flowers and wings ripped off their cursed body. A rhythmic pattern of thuds directs his attention to the altar, where you are torturing the Dominion.

♡ They’re still alive, but barely. The eyes on their wings have been gouged out, and their halo has been reduced to fragments. You are bashing their face against the altar repeatedly—for how long? They have been disfigured beyond recognition. You ignore their desperate cries for forgiveness, only stopping when Dainsleif calls out to you.

♡ And just like that, your demeanor shifts from ferocity to concern. A loud crack echoes in the church as you finish off the Dominion and leave their corpse on the altar. Then you go over to Dainsleif, reassuring him that he is safe. But in the warmth of your embrace, he can only look at Halfdan.

♡ It’s too late for him. Irreparable damage has already been done to his body, what more for his psyche. Still, Dainsleif finds himself speaking to Halfdan, staring into his blank eyes, asking you if anything can be done to alleviate his pain. And when you ask him how badly he wants to put his comrade out of his misery…he understands the implication. And he tells you to do it.

♡ He doesn’t know if Halfdan can hear him. Nonetheless, Dainsleif forces a smile on his face, thanks him for faithfully doing his duty, and lies about the fate of Khaenri’ah. Then he moves aside, allowing him to crouch in front of Halfdan. Gently, you touch his face and whisper something to him. Then you spread your wings, blocking Dainsleif’s view.

♡ There is another crack. When you fold your wings, Halfdan’s head has been crushed and you are staring into his blank eyes. Glimpsing his soul, you confirm his comatose state and comfort Dainsleif. The rest of the day is spent preparing a makeshift grave and burying Halfdan in it. When you finally leave Khaenri’ah, Dainsleif turns back to face the ruins of his homeland. He hopes that his comrade is having a nice dream.

˖⋆‧˚✦

“I can do this by myself, you know.”

“I know. Now stay still, won’t you?”

“Right now, your health is more important.”

“And who are you to decide that?”

“______.” He gives you an exasperated look in the mirror and takes the comb out of your hands. “I am perfectly capable of brushing my own hair.”

The mirror reflects your stubborn expression. “But Dain—”

“I insist.” His gaze drifts to your bandaged shoulder, followed by the bruises near your neck. “Get some rest.”

“Oh, fine.” Shaking your head, you walk away from the vanity table.

Dainsleif faces his reflection. Aside from a bruise on the back of his head, his body is unharmed by the angel attack. To think it has only been a few hours since he left Khaenri’ah and returned to Shapur Hotel with you. He doesn’t know how he managed to get through dinner in his grief-stricken state.

At least his physical pain has subsided. And he feels better after taking a bath, though you were insistent on joining him. You wouldn’t even let him hold the hairdryer.

“Where on earth are my feathers?”

The facade of normalcy is broken by your sudden outburst. When Dainsleif turns to you, he sees you sifting through the clothes he’d just worn.

You give him an indignant look. “No wonder those angels didn’t know—What were you even doing in Khaenri’ah? Couldn’t you have at least waited for me to accompany you?!”

“...I kept them in my bag,” he answers. He walks over to the desk, where he’d placed his mask and the satchel you’d gifted him ten years ago. “I never knew there was a rational purpose to your feathers. I thought it was merely a sign of ownership.”

“Huh? Were you blind to the feathers on my brothers’ clothes?”

“That, I believed to be your equivalent of a family symbol.”

“In the past two centuries, did you even think of asking me about it?!”

He did try, at the start of your companionship, and you only said that he’d regret wasting your feathers. But Dainsleif knows better than to say that right now.

So instead, he yields to your embrace. This close, he can feel your body shaking.

“Do you know how frightened I was when I realized what happened to you?” you whisper.

“Now I do,” he mumbles. He hugs you back, positioning his hands below your lower wings. “Thank you for saving me.”

After a few minutes, he is the one to break the silence.

“Where were you these past weeks? I wondered if we’d ever meet again.”

“Oh, that? I just had a lot on my plate. Another headache, a new batch of sinners…and I figured you’d want some time to yourself. Ah, and I almost forgot!”

This time, you pick up your bloodstained clothes and take something out of your pocket.

“Here.” Facing him, you open the velvet box in your hands.

His eyes widen. “Oh, that’s…”

A ring. This isn’t the first one he has received from you, but it looks special. The gold band is engraved with intricate stars. The stone in the center is smooth, lustrous, with a radiant glow.

“What mineral is this?” he asks.

You tilt your head, and that is when he notices your horn. It looks normal at first glance, but it is shorter by a single inch.

“I commissioned one of the best craftsmen in Hell,” you explain. “How’s this? It should be easier to wear than my feathers, don’t you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” he admits, but his gaze hasn’t left your horn. “Was it—”

“It’s fine.” It sounds like the reassurance isn’t only for him. But he can tell that your smile is genuine. “It’ll grow back.”

“All right, then.” He allows you to lift his cursed hand and slip the ring onto his finger. “…Thank you for the gift.”

“Now, why don’t we get some sleep? It’s been a long day.”

With that, Dainsleif follows you to the bed. As always, you wrap your arms around him, pressing your torso against his back. Your wings also hug him, caging him in silvery feathers.

You press a kiss to his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

He stares ahead. “If you insist.”

The window showcases the second twilight of the day. You continue speaking.

“Tomorrow, do you want to have dinner at Lambad’s Tavern? It’s been a while since we enjoyed a drink together.”

“Sure,” he says. Already, he can feel the temptation of sleep. “And afterwards?”

A taloned fingertip traces the blue veins on his palm. “We can go wherever you want. There are a lot of new places to visit in Sumeru. I’ve heard of a new resort that opened in Inazuma. Oh, and if we leave for Liyue next week, we can get there in time for the Lantern Rite Festival.”

He intertwines your fingers. “I see. That sounds nice.”

He turns his head, facing you. Your eyes are bright, reflecting the stars in his own gaze.

“We can make our decision tomorrow.” With that, you give him a soft smile and close your eyes. “Sweet dreams, Dain.”

“Good night.”

He remains awake, however, long after the sky has turned dark. His hand is still in yours, his new ring glowing brighter than his cursed marks.

…He doesn’t know what to do, honestly. In two days, he has experienced so much, felt so many emotions, and he has yet to process it all. And there is still the winding road of eternity ahead of him, a future that promises anything but salvation. But tonight…

Tonight, he shall close his eyes and accept his fate.

Perhaps he will even dream of you.

♡

More Church AU here!! Dottore ๑ Capitano ๑ Arlecchino ๑ Pantalone ๑ Pierro

Note:: Please do not send me any Church AU asks/ requests involving characters or dynamics not included in my masterlist.

At long last…..Dain’s fic has been written. This has been in my drafts since April, and I’m really happy with how it turned out!! Also, if the first few bullet points look very familiar, that’s because Pierro’s fic also begins with my worldbuilding for Church AU! Khaenri’ah~

Aahhh I had a lot of fun with Darling! Dainsleif and his demon wife. I rlly enjoyed writing their dynamic, so this definitely isn’t the last time I write for them. Who knows?? Maybe I’ll spare Dain and give him less suffering (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

Tag a Dainsleif enjoyer!! @leftdestiny-posts @naraven @pranabefall @navxry @teabutmakeitazure @mochinon-yah @harmonysanreads @stickyspeckledlight

#dainsleif #dainsleif x reader #yandere genshin #genshin x reader #yandere reader #fem reader #tw: yandere #tw: dark #tw: blood #tw: violence #tw: death #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #spicy warning #mdni #jessamine-writing

97 notes · View notes

yallthemwitches · 4 months ago

Text

Jilytober/ Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

All of the Tumblr links for all things jily in October 2024

JILYTOBER

You can also find them all compiled on AO3 Here!

Until the Light Takes Us :Before the dawn I hear you whisper in your sleep, ‘Don’t let the morning take him.’

October Country : A: “If anyone does X I’m going to love them forever.” B: Does X.

A Fragile Reminder : Spoiling Harry

4. Responsible Parties: Featuring McGonagall

5. Inconspicuous and Warm:“Get the car packed, throw me the keys. Run away with me.”

6. The Best Fun: Food Disasters

7. Free Fall: 🎶“No grave can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to her” - Work Song by Hozier

8. House Guest: “Maybe we can find out what the hell your problem is over dinner sometime.”

9. Talk to Me: " You Literally Checked your phone 3 seconds ago"

10. A Trick of the Light: Matchmaking Parents

11. A Thing: 🎶“Uncovering feelings unfound”🎶 - Out of the Blue by Katie Pruitt

12. Small Touches: "Sometimes I wonder if you're in love with me”

13. Real Sports: Muggle Technology

14.Too Much Birthday: Surprise Party!

15. The Act of Listening: " you can kiss me, you know"

16. After Dark: 🎶“My words are my faith, to hell with our good name”🎶 - Hum Hallelujah by Fall Out Boy

17. Predatory in Nature: "It's cute when your face gets red like that."

18. The Golden Rules: Neighbors

19. Old Habits: “You could say it a hundred times and I still won’t listen.”

20. Twist of Fate: 🎶Try to move on, it's back to you that all my roads keep leading 🎶 - Before I Fall Apart by Elle Coves

21. Film Studies: "Let me distract you"

22. A Tiny Spell: "How long have you been standing there?" "Longer than you'd like."

23. The Gift: Indulging in Hobbies

24. Traditionalists: 🎶Then I know everything is gonna be fine, Because you are mine🎶 -You Shine from Carrie - The Musical

25. The Question: "Are we going to talk about it?" "I'd rather not.”

26. Only Sleeping: 🎶One bright morning goes so easy. Darkness always finds you either way🎶 - First Light by Hozier

27. Level Headed: “What if it doesn’t work” “What if it does work”

28. Nothing But Treats: Holiday Fic

29. The Storm: Cold Winter Nights ( Also check out the smutty sequel: The Storm, the Aftermath)

30. Sticking the Landing: 🎶"where's the trophy? he just comes running over to me"🎶 - The Alchemy by Taylor Swift

31. Army Dreamers: Unintentional Halloween Costumes

JILY KINKTOBER ( All are E for Explicit for obvious reasons):

Find them also compiled on Ao3 here!

O For Outstanding: Day 1: Praise Kink.

Strong Enough Day 3 and Day 6: Angry Sex and Hair Pulling

A Needed Distraction Day 4: Toy under clothing

The Act of Giving: Day 5: Face Sitting

To Be Missed: Day 7: Wall Sex

Study Session: Day 8: Dry Humping

A Quiet Moment: Day 9 Accidental Voyeurism

In the Interim: Day 10 Cockwarming

Putting in the Effort: Day 14 Lingerie

The Prize: Day 17 and Day 18: Jealously and Quidditch Win

#Jilytober fest 2024 masterlist #my writing #yallthemwitches #jily #jily fanfiction #jilykintober #jily smut

67 notes · View notes

ijustliketoreadstuff · 8 months ago

Text

Lets talk about Gabriel's club.

Gabriel being part of a club where all his closest "friends" meet, may not seem odd, even viewers didn't think too much of it at first when some of the members came together for a party at the Agreste mansion back in "Gabriel Agreste". But the more we learn about what this club does behind closed doors, the more it feels like its no ordinary club for members to mingle and party.

The club not only has a great deal of security to keep non-members out, but it is even ensured that the members themselves are unable to release any information over what goes on in any event, regardless of who they are. Their clubs activities are kept under so much security and secrecy that it is even mandatory for the members to provide a fingerprint scan, wear masks and even relinquish their phones, along with their kids phones, before any event begins, and to make sure that no one can listen in, let alone get any glimpse as to what goes on inside, the entire facility is placed on lockdown, doors and windows all boarded up and locked. Any other person who would normally just be catering for an event, would be instructed to have no contact with any other members except Gabriel, all the while an added scrambler is activated to stop any technology from making its way through.

Aside from Tomoe and Gabriel, some of the other members of the club include Bob Roth, Andre, Audrey, Amelie, Prince Ali and his assistant Soraya, all of whom are business people, politicians and even members of royal families. The royal family in London that invited Gabriel and Tomoe to a wedding are likely also members of the club. It's no surprise Gabriel and Tomoe have such strong connections both in Paris and around the world, all of whom hold them in high enough regard to invite them to even the most private of events, like the royal wedding in London ("Backwarder")as well as prince Ali's birthday("Lies"), all very exclusive events.

Now, societal parties like the "Diamonds dance" might have been common enough for even Zoe to have regularly experienced them while living in New York, but knowing that Gabriel and Tomoe are involved in these kinds of parties, raises question if the activities surrounding their club may actually hold some ulterior motive for them and the members. Such a club would not only serve as a good space to interact with high society members who are normally scattered around the world, but it would also serve to invite and interact with any potential new members that have become wealthy over time.

Gabriel alone was not always the world famous fashion designer he is now, he used to be a struggling designer who lived in a studio apartment, before Audrey discovered him and gave him his big break in the fashion industry. Such gatherings for members of a high society would have been a good place for Gabriel to meet someone like Tomoe, who despite having no relation to the fashion industry like he did, would have met him nonetheless at something as simple and inconspicuous as a party.

Because Gabriel was desperate to save Emelie from the effects of the broken peacock miraculous over the years, long before he committed to a life of villainy as Hawkmoth, involving others who had the potential to help him in his goals was definitely not above considering the more he spiraled into his desperation and position of power in the world. He already had Nathalie, who was an expert at finding relics and was the one who helped the Agreste family find both the peacock and butterfly miraculous, he even recruited someone as young as Lila back in "Oni-chan" to act as his spy into Adrien's life and help separate him from Marinette, all with the promise of being a model. If he recruited them, he might have already attempted to recruit others in the past from all sorts of places, especially societal parties, the more he realized he could not do certain things with his power and influence alone. Tomoe was one such person.

("Passion," "Multiplication", "Oni-chan")

When Gabriel first set out to obtain the ladybug and cat miraculous as Hawkmoth, it was assumed that his plans to use the jewels' wish granting abilities, were entirely his own. However, in "Multiplication", the show revealed that Tomoe was always aware of Gabriel's identity as Hawkmoth and was even involved in his plans from the very beginning. All the advanced technology that Gabriel used, from the weaponized security system in his lair("Robostus"), the power supply in his mansion that could compete with a power station("Party Crasher"), the machine that allowed him to reconfigure the miraculous into rings ("Destruction"), Emelie's pod etc. was not built by him, it all came from Tomoe, but by no means did Tomoe give all this high tech to Gabriel out of the goodness of her heart, she gave it to him because she too had something to gain, a wish from the ladybug and cat miraculous to create a new world.

To have the power that could grant any wish would be too good of an opportunity for anyone to ignore, even Marinette and Adrien considered using the wish their jewels could grant, before learning about the consequences that came with it of course, but it was precisely this kind of power that would have made things easy for Gabriel to convince others to join him in his pursuit for the miraculous, especially Tomoe.

("Robostus", and "Passion")

(In "Intuition", Tomoe reveals her desire to create a new world through the power of the ladybug and cat miraculous wish granting abilities)

Of course, Gabriel couldn't just go around telling people about the existence of the miraculous and the wish without drawing some attention, but the club's parties alone would serve as an excellent cover for Gabriel to recruit people over the years in his desperate endeavors to obtain the miraculous and save Emelie. If Tomoe alone was helping Gabriel from the shadows without anyone ever suspecting her, who's to say there aren't other members within the club who are doing the same thing from the sidelines. We don't know a lot about the other members yet, but judging by the way their children are, the majority of them are no different than Audrey and Chloe, believing they are entitled to many things without consequences, all of whom would definitely choose to ignore the true price that revolves around being granted a wish, a price that could bring devastation onto the world and other innocent people who would suffer the consequences of their choices (cough* it's just like in real life*cough).

The club everyone assumes is just a place where rich people gather, may harbor a secret society comprised of the rich people who aim to further their power and plans, through the use of the miraculous, and right now, Gabriel and Tomoe are at the center of it all. It wouldn't be the first time a large evil party of people gathered to obtain the miraculous, after all, in "Backwarder", it was revealed that even the Nazi's knew about the miraculous and hunted down master Fu to obtain them so as to use their power for their own diabolical plans. But again, let's just wait and see what the show has to say.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #tales of ladybug and cat noir #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #mlb ladybug #thomas astruc #ml ladybug #cat noir #mlb s5 spoilers #ml emotion #ml s5 analysis #mlb s5 analysis #master fu #nathalie sancoeur #lila rossi #audrey bourgeois #chloe bourgeois #gabriel agreste

131 notes · View notes

signfromeywa · 9 months ago

Text

AUNGIA TA EYWA (A SIGNS FROM EYWA)

Chapter 01: A difficult start️

Description:

Anastasia Novak is a behavioural scientist tasked with socializing a captive Na'vi on behalf of the RDA. The longer she works with the Na'vi and the closer she gets to him, the more she has to rethink everything she thought she knew and redefine her morals and values. Can she just carry on like this, or will she follow her heart?

Content: Rating +18, Avatar fanfiction, human x Na'vi ship, Na'vi captured

Characters: Human OCs: Anastasia Novak, Steven Turner, Patra// Na'vi OCs: Ean'tu,

Word Count: 4379

⊹˚₊‧─────────────────────────────‧₊˚⊹

❗️English is not my native language! I apologize very much if it reads a bit bumpy here and there.

I'm a German author and this is the first time I've tried to translate a story I'm working on into English and upload it. I still hope you enjoy it.❗

An automatic heavy iron door opened with a hydraulic sound. As it opened, it disappeared into the wall on both sides, revealing a young woman.

" Mam, please raise your arms." Two guards approached her, both armed and in uniform. One of them stepped up to her.

She raised her arms uncertainly. She didn't want to cause any trouble or complications. It was her first day at work and she wanted to make a good impression.

The man picked up a hand-sized scanner and ran it along her body at a distance to scan her for metal parts and weapons. Since everything was inconspicuous, he nodded to his colleague.

"All right, please go straight out to the airlock at the back. They're already expecting you." He pointed to a much smaller metal door in the distance next to a window. Behind it stood a man who seemed to be busy with something.

"Thank you very much." The young woman made her way out and the guards resumed their positions. Her heart was pounding in her chest. On the one hand, this was her big chance, but on the other, she was terrified of doing something wrong. It would ruin her once and for all.

When she reached the airlock door, the man behind the window looked up and noticed her. Then he disappeared from her field of vision and shortly afterwards a beep sounded, whereupon a light came on and the door opened. Behind it stood a man: very inconspicuous, white coat, files in his hand and dark circles under his eyes.

"Miss Novak I presume?" He examined her with his tired eyes. The man seemed overworked or had simply not slept well for many nights, or even too little.

"Yeah, right." She walked through the door and held out her hand to greet him. He didn't seem to notice, as he turned away and went back to looking at his papers.

"Follow me Miss Novak." He simply walked off and, somewhat irritated, she stumbled after him. "I'm honestly surprised. You're a petite woman and yet you signed up for this job."

She blinked in surprise. "Excuse me?"

He stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. "But you do know what you signed up for, don't you?"

"Yes, of course I do. The job description was clear."

"Hmm..." He started walking again. "We'll see how you do. After all, we work with the highest security measures and technology. So we can assume that nothing will happen to you. But you should still be careful."

What kind of strange conversation was that? Was the guy trying to scare her? Or was he seriously worried? In any case, canceling was no longer an option. She hadn't flown here for three years only to go home again. No way. She was just right for the job. So far, every animal had been trained and tamed by her, and it would be no different here. She shouldn't let these statements unsettle her in the first place. She was the best in her field and that was exactly why she had got the job.

They stopped together in front of another door with a keypad next to it. He entered the required code and the door opened to let them both in.

"This is the team's workplace, so it's yours too. Apart from the enclosure, of course." He pointed into the room. It had no windows, was made entirely out of metal and was artificially lit with white light. Two desks stood in one corner, close to a large filing cabinet with countless files. A few of them were spread out on the desks as if someone was still writing on them and a few more were stacked in boxes next to them. "You'll have a lot of paperwork," commented the man who still hadn't introduced himself.

"Over here is the plant's equipment. Everything important is controlled from here, but you don't have to worry about that." He pointed to another corner with a huge control panel. With lots of switches and buttons, none of which the young woman understood.

"Keep moving, over here." They went through another door at the end. This led into a smaller room with a window through which you could see into another area. The employee led her to the window and looked through it with her.

"You have a wonderful view of the enclosure from here." His gaze wandered vigilantly from right to left, as if he was looking for something. "You can't see it just now. It often hides in the treetops." He was probably talking about the animal she was supposed to look after. She had already seen a picture of the creature in the job advertisement, which had not come to her by coincidence, but through a special contact. Her eyes wandered along the tree.

"Oh, don't bother. You can't see through the dense leaves from here." He turned around. "Here we have the monitors from the cameras we've installed all over the enclosure, so we can usually keep an eye on it... but it doesn't seem to be visible through them right now. So it really will be in the tree."

A man came in through the door. He was also wearing a white coat and sat bluntly on the chair in front of the monitors with his cup, without saying anything.

"This is Mr. Gonzales, he takes care of the surveillance in shifts. Then we have three mechanics for the enclosure and two people who look after the switchgear over there. So you don't need to worry about that. Just let us know if you want to know anything."

The young woman nodded and looked at her counterpart with her brown eyes.

"Oh yes, I'm Mr. Turner. I'd like to welcome you. Let's hope you can hold out here. That beast in there is giving us a hard time. It would be good if you could get it under control."

"Doctor Anastasia Novak, a pleasure. I'll be fine. I've managed to tame all the beasts so far. Don't worry about it." For the first time, Ana smiled. Her colleague seemed a little plump, but he probably didn't mean it unkindly.

"The facility is attached to the main building. The boss likes to come by and take a look at Sky," Mr. Turner said.

"I understand that. But he doesn't go into the enclosure?"

"He was there once, with a guard. Sky bit the guard's ear off. Since then, he's been wearing an electronic collar and the boss doesn't go in anymore." He looked at Ana. "That's what you're here now for. You're supposed to work with Sky and socialize it to humans."

"Sky seems really aggressive. It's a male, isn't it?"

"Yes, but to us it's just an alien. I don't care if it's female or male. I've seen that thing attack our people. If you ask me, it's highly dangerous and just aggressive. I don't think you can get it to get used to humans," he said.

Ana crossed her arms "Any animal can be trained. But I can understand why you're skeptical. Are there any other safety measures apart from the collar?"

"Someone is always in the control room. From here, a sleeping drug can be released via its collar if it can no longer be held. You have to go through two locks if you want to enter the enclosure. We also have automatic shooting systems that can detect and shoot the target at any time, whether it's sleeping arrows or live ammunition."

Ana was amazed, but she knew it was necessary. A three-metre animal could certainly do bad things to a person and if she was really going to go in there to work with the animal, her safety had to be guaranteed. Mr. Turner had certainly been able to convince her of that.

She turned back to the window and looked into the enclosure. "Are there any medical records?"

"Yes, I'll show you the files in a moment. There's not that much in them, though." He stood by her and looked now too.

"I'll at least be able to file my psychological report there. That would be a start. I'd also like to go straight into the enclosure, is that possible?" Ana looked at Mr. Turner expectantly.

"Yes, that will work. I'll get your equipment ready straight away and inform the shift on duty. Then we'll watch your back from up here," Mr. Turner confirmed.

"All right, let's get going! I need something to write on, would that be possible?"

"Come with me." He went ahead into the other room to the desks to get a clipboard and paper. "Will that be enough?"

Ana took the pen from the table and clipped it to the board as well. "Yes, here we go."

Gradually, she could feel her heart beating faster. It wasn't the first alien she'd had to tame. But she could remember exactly what the job advertisement had said. Big, strong, fast. It was said to be somewhat predatory and very aggressive. Ana didn't think she had ever looked after such a violent animal. But she also saw it as a chance to prove once again that she was the best at her job. It was a challenge she wanted to take on and she wasn't just doing it for that reason. She loved all life, other species and animals. All life has its place, you just had to learn to understand it. You could live in harmony with everything, she was sure of that. The dog was the best example. Or the cat. If you found out more about the species and their way of communicating, then you could respond to them and come to an understanding. It would be no different here. She was sure of that. There was always a way.

Her colleague had guided Ana to the airlock door that led into the enclosure. "Here, put on the mask. The enclosure has the atmosphere of the moon, which is necessary for the animal. So you will have to wear the mask at all times when you enter."

Ana took the mask and put it on. By now, she didn't need any help, as she had already been shown how to wear them a few times on the way here. It was also very easy. A short hiss confirmed that the mask was on properly.

"Good, I'll open the airlock door now. Go inside and wait until the pressure has equalized and the enclosure door opens. I'll have a view of you in the control room upstairs." He opened the door, which only opened with the ID card he had on his coat.

As the scanner light turned green, the airlock door opened, revealing a small room that resembled a larger elevator. Ana entered cautiously and startled when the heavy airlock door closed behind her. There was a small beep and then it started to hiss. The airlock had started to equalize pressure. When the hissing stopped, it beeped again. A light turned green. Ana's heart was now beating up to her neck. She knew she was safe, but she was still excited. After all, she was now entering a predator's enclosure unarmed. It had already proved often enough what it was capable of.

The sluice door to the enclosure opened to reveal an artificially created natural enclosure. The ground was earthy and covered with grass here and there, bushes had been planted and at the end was an incredibly tall tree. Only now, from down here, could she see how high the treetop was. So high that the ceiling had to be extended and there was now a dome above the tree. But it wasn't made of glass. It was lighting in the form of huge spotlights on the ceiling that imitated the natural light from outside.

"Are the plants real?" she asked Mr. Turner over the radio.

"Yes, they're all real. We have extra staff in here for the flora. They're all real plants from the moon. To recreate the animal's natural habitat," he confirmed.

"So much effort," she marveled.

"It had to be done. The first enclosure wasn't natural enough and the animal became very weak and ill. Then the boss had this enclosure built straight away."

"He must really like Sky." Ana slowly stepped into the enclosure and looked around. "Have you spotted Sky on the cameras yet?"

"No, nothing yet. But stay alert, the beast is damn good at sneaking up on you," warned Mr. Turner.

"Yes, thanks, I'll keep looking around." Ana walked on. The enclosure was surprisingly well maintained and had beautiful flora. It was hard to believe what the boss had taken on himself to make his pet feel at home. Keeping an alien as a pet wasn't easy. Only the rich could afford it. Ana was happy with a simple cat to snuggle up with in the evening. She walked slowly towards the big tree. Her colleague had said that it often stayed here. Maybe she would be able to see it. As she got closer and her gaze wandered over the tree, she spotted something in the branches higher up. It looked like branches tied together and seemed to be hanging from something similar to a plant.

She took out her clipboard and started to draw it. She had never seen anything like it and found it fascinating. "Mr. Turner, do you know what that tied branch is hanging from the tree? What did you hang it for?"

"We didn't hang anything. It must be new. But it's not ours, at least I don't think so. I'll ask the staff later."

"Thank you." Ana walked on. But it was unlikely this far up. How could people from the team have got there? It was several meters from the ground, among the branches and leaves. How unusual.

Then she reached the tree and looked up at it. It was unbelievably huge, not even two full-grown people could have reached around the trunk.

"How big is the tree?" she asked over the radio.

"Phew... it should be something like 47 meters," was the answer she got.

Ana was amazed. A tree that big was something rare on Earth and would mean that it was a very old tree. Would the growth behavior of the plants be different here? She cautiously placed a hand on the bark.

Then she heard a branch crack and looked up, startled, but it was too late. All she could see was something large and blue pouncing on her and throwing her to the ground. Frightened and startled, she screamed and the clipboard fell out of her hand and landed at some distance on the earthy ground next to her.

Above her was that animal. Sky! Despite her panic, she recognized it from the photo she had seen. This was the animal she was supposed to tame. Only now that it was so close above her did she realize how big three meters were. But she didn't have time to think about that. She could hardly breathe. Sky had pushed her to the ground and placed his hand on her chest. He really was extremely strong.

Gasping for breath, she looked into the dark blue face. Deep red eyes glared at her. His face was contorted into a snarl and his ears were pinned back. It bared its pointed fangs in anger. She grabbed the animal's wrist, but Sky was stronger.

"Mr...Turner..." she stammered choked and hoped he would hear the radio.

Nothing came at first, but then: "Oh shit!" The first electric shock came immediately. Ana got the electric shock from the touch. Shit, that was painful. Her body spasmed under the brief electric shock. But it was enough. The animal had retreated in fright. But it was not in a peaceful mood. Sky crouched in front of her. He hissed at her and his tail whipped back and forth anxiously.

"Get away from there!" she heard Mr. Turner's panicked voice over the radio.

Her limbs still aching, she picked herself up and tried to get away. Sky jumped towards her again. He was clearly not done with her yet. Ana had invaded his territory. She had been careless. But before the animal reached her, the electricity on the collar was activated once more. This time it wasn't a short shock, but a continuous stream. Sky slumped to the ground and writhed as he screamed. He was clearly in pain, but Ana knew it was her only chance to get away. She stood up and took a quick look at Sky before running off. Suddenly Sky's eyes snapped open despite the pain and their gazes met.

Shit! None of this was right! What was happening here was wrong and she knew it. Animals shouldn't be tortured like this. A single electric shock or two would have been enough. But to let it suffer like this was not okay.

"Mr. Turner! Turn off the power, damn it. That's enough!" she radioed nervously as she stood anxiously away from the animal.

"Are you crazy?! Get away from there! There's no way I'm turning off the power."

"POWER OFF! NOW!" Ana shouted into the radio and looked angrily up at the window where she knew Mr. Turner could see her.

After a moment's hesitation, the power went out and Sky went limp. "Shit! You must be crazy. Come out of there now!"

"I'm here to get to know him, not traumatize him." Ana's words sounded harsh. She was annoyed. She certainly wasn't an animal abuser. She never had to use such educational measures before. She had just felt for herself how painful this fucking electricity was. It was not okay to expose the animal to this pain for so long.

Anyway, it was over now and Sky didn't move. He must have been exhausted from the pain. It was the perfect opportunity to get to safety. But that wasn't what Ana was here for. Running away wouldn't help her if she wanted to tame the animal.

For now, Sky was exhausted. So exhausted that he would certainly not attack her again so quickly. This was a good opportunity to get closer to the animal. She approached cautiously. Just a few steps. Sky turned his head to the side, exhausted, and scrutinized her with his reddish eyes. He watched her closely.

Ana ducked slightly and held out her hands. "It's all right... everything's fine," she said in a soft voice and continued to approach Sky. This time the animal didn't move. It just looked at her and it almost seemed like it was letting Ana. Why was it okay for her to go over to it now? The animal's tail lay still and its ears were no longer laid back. Only its watchful gaze told her that Sky probably wanted to say: "I'm keeping a close eye on you, I don't trust you completely yet."

She knelt down on the floor next to him. Admittedly, she was terrified. Now she had seen for herself what the animal was capable of. It was dangerous, but it also took courage to tame an animal.

"Shit! What are you doing, Miss Novak? You'd better get away from there. The animal attacked you earlier. That's dangerous!" Mr. Turner was clearly very upset. His voice was shaking so nervously that Ana could hear it through the radio.

"Yes, it is dangerous. But I have to start getting him used to me straight away, otherwise it will only get worse. You can't show any weakness," she explained in an equally nervous voice. Although she had tried to sound confident.

Slowly, she reached out her hand to Sky, and just before she could touch his head, his ear twitched nervously. She paused briefly and waited to see what signals Sky gave her. The animal, however, also seemed to be waiting. Right now, he didn't see Ana as a threat.

"Calm down, I don't mean you any harm," Ana said gently in a low voice to reassure it. Then she put her hand on its head and stroked it gently. Sky moved shortly afterwards.

"Miss Novak!" Mr. Turners sounded worried.

"It's all right, don't do anything. It's all right." Under no circumstances should he switch on the power now, Sky was behaving quite peacefully. There was no trace of aggression and Ana was surprised that he had changed his behavior so much. What had triggered it? Had it been the punishment? Was it afraid of being punished again? But that didn't make sense, animals don't actually learn the concept that quickly, unless they've often tortured it with electricity like that. The thought made her angry. That wasn't acceptable.

Sky had sat up and sat in front of her. He still seemed exhausted. But his mind was awake and Sky looked at Ana warily. It wasn't friendly towards her, but it wasn't hostile either. It was more observant.

Ana gently held out her hand so that Sky could sniff it. "It's all right, big guy, just relax." She smiled at him.

Sky really was an extraordinarily beautiful creature. He had something human about him despite his predator-like features. The skin had a beautiful pattern and the eyes were a great color. The unique disorder of pigmentation that ran across his face and part of his shoulder also added to his beauty.

To Ana's surprise, Sky not only leaned forward to sniff her hand, but placed his hand in hers. The hand was much bigger than hers and very warm. Was Sky's species a primate? He acted very humanoid as he looked at her and held her hand. He certainly seemed smart. His nose, eyes and ears reminded her a lot of a cat or panther. Very curious. She would get some documents to find out more about the species. She hadn't gotten much information. Only the rough reports from the tabloids on Earth. But who knows how much of it was correct. News was not known for accuracy and scientific precision.

"What's the name of his species again, Mr. Turner?" The word had completely slipped her mind.

"Na'vi is the name of these beasts," he said much more calmly now.

That's right, that was their name. The Na'vi were widespread on Pandora and known for their ferocity, which led to them attacking the bases of the drilling companies and killing the workers. In general, people told each other about the dangerous flora and fauna of Pandora, and the voices even got all the way to Earth. Even though there was a lot of publicity about traveling to Pandora to work for the RDA. The payment was good, but you were also far away from home. Ana had made it to Pandora and was now really sitting opposite of one of those dangerous Na'vis. At that moment, however, Sky was completely calm.

Ana sat down too. Sky was so much taller than she was. It was impressive but also intimidating. Where should she start? Talking would not help the animal, body language was the most effective and the right charisma. She was no enemy of Sky, quite the opposite. She wanted to help him fit in and allow the helping presence of humans.

Gently, she also reached out her other hand to him and he grabbed it, then something strange happened. Sky turned her wrist so that her palm was facing him and brought her fingertips to his chest, where she assumed his heart was.

"irayo..." she heard from Sky.

Ana's eyes widened. What kind of sound, what kind of gesture had that been? It seemed so human, the way he was looking at her, touching her. Had he been trying to communicate with her? Or had it just been a sound? She didn't understand any of this. She looked into the Na'vis' watchful eyes and he looked into hers.

It was completely silent. She was very still and breathing evenly. Somehow she had a strange connection to the animal. Sky was special.

"Are you okay down there?" It was Mr. Turner's voice through the radio.

Ana averted her eyes to look up at the window, it was quite small from down here, she could barely make out anything, but knew her colleague was standing up there keeping a close eye on her.

"Yes, I'm fine. Everything's ok down here," she assured him, slightly confused, and then felt Sky let go of her hands. She turned her head back in his direction as he had already stood up and returned to the tree in a crouching position, partly on all fours and partly on his hind legs.

He seemed more insecure and dismissive again. He was clearly afraid of the radio message. "It's all right Sky, it's all right." Ana made a placating gesture with her hands and stood up as well. However, she had no intention of following the Na'vi. It had been enough excitement for today. She should let the animal have its space; after all, she didn't want things to escalate again.

Besides, she urgently needed to gather herself now. She had gained so many new impressions and so many questions had now arisen in her mind. As soon as she was back at her desk, she would get permission to contact a research facility. She needed to find out more about the Na'vi and their behavior patterns if she wanted to avoid incidents like this in the future.

Sky shouldn't have to suffer through the collar anymore. This stupid electricity hurt like hell, even if Ana only had it for a second. In future, it would be nice if Sky didn't need a collar like that at all. That would be Ana's goal.

Slowly she walked backwards to get safely away from the animal and Sky watched her closely. When he realized that she really wanted to leave, he swung himself onto a branch to withdraw. He probably wanted to get back to his hiding place in the tree.

When Ana was far enough away, she turned around, collected her clipboard and made her way to the airlock. The doors opened as soon as she arrived and let her through.

#na'vi #na'vi oc #avatar the way of water #avatar 2009 #avatar oc #avatar pandora #omatikaya #oc #writers on tumblr #fan story #fanfiction #fanfic #na'vi x human #signfromeywa #signfromeywa fanfiction

86 notes · View notes

mylovelies-docx · 2 years ago

Text

Sorry, I Love You - Part 5

Gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooood afternoon, everyone.

:) Have fun

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: Awkwardness, flashbacks, feels

Word Count: 1,950

Tag List: NOW CLOSED! If you'd like to keep up with this story, please follow my blog and turn on notifications! ❤️ you :)

[Prologue][Part 1][Part 2][Part 3][Part 4]

This wouldn't be your and Bucky's first undercover mission together, but it would be the first one where the tension between you is decidedly not sexual. You're not even sure how well the two of you can pull off this charade since you have no idea what your chemistry is like anymore. Used to, you could do anything together, be anything together.

Not so much now.

There’s an awkwardness between you. Silences pregnant with all the things left unsaid – or should have been left unsaid. You’ll catch Bucky watching you from the corner of your eyes, always with an unreadable expression like he’s trying to figure you out again without actually asking any questions.

You can't imagine that you've changed so much in the intervening months, but Bucky makes so much progress in therapy that his confidence in himself and his personality grow by leaps and bounds all the time.

You don’t know this new Bucky, but you wish you did. You wish you had been with him to see his growth, encourage him on.

You’ve missed out on so much of your life by staying away from the Tower. You’d had so many plans that never came to be – no walks in the park when the flowers started to bloom, no trips to the beach on the hottest days of the year, no ice skating when the first snow fell. You kept a tab on everything that should have been on the calendar in your mind, noting all the days that had significance in the past but went uncelebrated this year.

But what’s done is done, and you have to pay for your actions – half a year away is a small price to have Bucky back in your life, even as a stranger instead of your lover.

You’re now trying to organize your new life on the outskirts of a small town in Russia, just a few miles away from a HYDRA base. Snow was falling thick and fast as the quinjet touched down hours ago, leaving behind a pristine blanket of white outside your new home. The small, two-bedroom cottage looks rustic, but it is still nicer than most of the surrounding homes due to Tony’s influence. There is hidden technology that will help the house to stay warm in this cold climate and random high-tech appliances, lights, and other things that look normal and are anything but.

With the HYDRA base going radio silent, you may be in this little home for longer than was initially expected earlier this year. Bucky is sure that the base is still active, though. He spent a lot of time here as the Winter Soldier, but no one has received reports from the embedded spy in recent months. This inactivity is concerning since you're no longer sure what is going on inside the building anymore.

It would be too obvious for Bucky to go undercover inside the facility, so that leaves it up to you to infiltrate as a researcher. The spy had assured last year that no one from the facility lived in the town you’ve settled in, so it’s safe enough for Bucky to remain close by as you work.

But the small town you’ve settled in is so traditional that the only way to remain inconspicuous as a younger woman is to be connected to a man in some way – be it living with family members or a husband.

And since you don't want to be labeled an outcast or worse, Bucky is here.

Bucky is going to be a mechanic at the small family-owned shop just down the road, and his prosthesis is covered in Stark technology that makes it appear as if he’d never lost it. Bucky used to spend a lot of time fixing up old cars and motorcycles between missions, so he should really enjoy spending his days in the garage helping out the Kowalds.

Unfortunately, your background isn’t as fun. You’re a whiz when it comes to biology, so Nat cooked up a false resume full of lab work that centers around eugenics and biomanipulation – things your spy had reported the facility was actively looking into. In order to get your foot in the door at the HYDRA facility, the Avengers had to create a background so disturbing that you're not even sure if you can interview for it properly.

You're just zipping up into your thick winter coat when Bucky walks out of the kitchen drying his hands on a dish towel.

“You headin’ out now, doll?” He asks, a small worry line between his eyebrows.

“Yup,” you answer back with a comforting smile on your face. “I need to go meet with our contact to make sure that everything is still okay.”

“Just be careful, yeah?” he tells you, slinging the towel up onto his shoulder. Today is his first day at the mechanic shop, so he's dressed in blue overalls with a small name tag stitched onto his chest. The sun is just barely rising, but he's going to be late if he doesn't hurry.

"You know me, Buck. My middle name is Safe."

"Your middle name is Trouble and you can't convince me otherwise, babygirl."

You stick your tongue out at him and blow a raspberry, holding your middle finger up in the air as you turn around and head out the door. Once out of his sight, you smile and bask in the feeling of having your friend back.

You'd missed the banter and easy wit you used to share together, so this small exchange feels like a return to normal. The awkwardness might return in time, but you hope Bucky has forgiven you enough to power through.

You trek along the deserted streets. The early hour and layer of snow on the ground seems to be keeping the townsfolk within their homes, wrapped snugly under their warm blankets. You sigh heavily and watch your breath fog in the air, the mist condensing and freezing your skin as you walk through the cloud.

You pass house after house, noticing lights turning on and the sound of hairdryers, televisions, and conversations humming in the air. Everything has a vague, indistinct quality to it, lulling you into daydreams of what their lives are like. Is it simple? Do they enjoy this cold, snowy location? Or are they also dreaming of a warm day laying in the grass in nothing but a pair of shorts and a tank top?

A memory worms its way to the surface of your mind of a day spent just like that with Bucky.

This was only a few weeks before your friends-with-benefits situation started. It was the hottest day of the year so far, the humidity heavy in the air and making the sidewalks and parks of New York City intensely uncomfortable. Even though Stark has the Tower equipped with the latest technology, he's incapable of leaving anything well enough alone. He'd been tinkering with the HVAC and somehow short-circuited the entire system. Everyone in the Tower was miserable and cranky, choosing to avoid one another in an attempt to stave off arguments and confrontations.

You'd been sitting in the shade of the balcony, fanning yourself as you watched all the teeny tiny people on the ground maneuver the crosswalks and traffic to get to where they were going. It was no warmer outside than it was in your room, so you chose to people-watch instead of lay there and sweat miserably on your clean sheets.

Just as some bratty kid you’d been watching chucked the ice cream he’d been yelling for only moments ago onto the sidewalk, the sliding glass doors behind you whooshed open. The sound of metal knocking against the doorframe had let you know that Bucky was the one to interrupt your spying.

Regretfully turning your neck, you felt your skin sliding wet and hot against itself. A frown marred your features as you stared at Bucky as he stood behind you, his eyes alight with mischievous glee.

“What did you do…?” You question slowly, almost afraid to know what that look was all about.

He shrugged a shoulder and smirked. “Nothing too bad.”

“BARNES!!!” a voice roared from the depths of the Tower.

You quirked an eyebrow at him and a small, disbelieving smile graced your lips. “That doesn’t sound like nothing, Buck.”

Bucky hmm’d and glanced back into the building when a CRASH reverberated from where the voice had yelled moments ago. “I was going to get out of here for a while. You wanna come?” he questioned breezily.

“And why would I want to leave when Tony’s working on fixing the AC?” you replied as you continued to fan yourself. Bucky’s eyebrows had quirked ever so slightly.

“Y/L/N!!!”

Your hand had frozen mid-fan and your eyes widened so much that Bucky couldn’t help but laugh.

“Where’d you say we were going?” you asked as you rose quickly from your seat and bypassed Bucky at the door.

***

“You little shit!” You had laughed uproariously when Bucky finally admitted to the prank.

“What else was I gonna do?” he responded, turning his face to look at you.

Even with the intense heat that day, you and Bucky had decided to forgo the climate controlled vehicles in the garage and went instead with the fastest getaway vehicle – Bucky’s bike. The wind had whipped against your body when you held onto Bucky and watched the city fall into the distance behind you.

He apparently hadn’t had a destination in mind, so you had ridden until cities and towns disappeared. He’d pulled off beside a barely visible hiking trail and jumped off his bike. You had followed suit and watched as Bucky pulled a blanket from inside the storage compartment on the bike. You hiked your eyebrows questioningly, but only got a grin in response.

That’s how you had found yourself lounging on a blanket in the middle of a field with Bucky on the hottest day of the year. You’d chatted and laughed for hours until the sun had slowly faded from the sky. Out that far, the light pollution of the cities couldn’t touch the stars. You had gazed upwards, trying to draw the constellations as you remembered them.

You weren’t any good at astrology or astronomy, but the stories behind the figures in the sky captivated you nonetheless.

You laughed again and turned to face him as well. “And why’d you have to implicate me, huh?”

“Figured it’d be more fun that way,” he had answered slyly.

You had wound your arm up and smacked him on the stomach, your hand bouncing off of the toned muscles. He’d caught your wrist on the next swing and held it up and away from his body. You’d tried to tug it away, but his metal fingers held fast and didn’t let you go. You rolled over toward him and began trying to use your body as leverage, but you had only succeeded in pulling yourself closer to him.

You huffed and blew the piece of hair that had fallen over your eyes away and looked up at him. He’d had a look in his eyes that he hadn’t directed at you before, but you’d seen glimpses of it when he’d find someone to bring back for the night.

You can’t help but think that that moment had been the turning point in your friendship with Bucky, the moment he thought about asking you to be friends-with-benefits. Of course you’d found him handsome long before then, but that was a moment that really cemented your attraction to him.

You didn’t have romantic feelings at the time, but you should have known they were inevitable.

Part 6

@jackiehollanderr @rabbitrabbit12321 @12345sebby @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @lauraashley93 @themorningsunshine @happinessinthebeing @nash-dara @calwitch@stany0url0calwh0res111 @pono-pura-vida @learisa @introverbatim @kentokaze @marvelogic @kaz11283

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #Sorry I Love You

538 notes · View notes

unsoundedcomic · 5 months ago

Text

Whumptober 2024 - 19 - "Blood Trail"

I do not celebrate my Aldish heritage. Ere my father bedded my mother, no form came to me by post polling me on the country in which I would prefer she push me out. Men who make over that accident have little else to make over, I have found. They would march for their aorta or their opposable thumb, if either were assigned a flag. Offer a plaque and a slap on the ass for the act of filling a commode, and they would demand both.

I cannot deny my Aldish boyhood left me with thick blood and hot lungs, however. Like the woolly snakes and the unnros, I can bear the cold.

Knowing this, you cannot dismiss me when I stress to you, reader, that Anchert island causes even this son of Alderode to shiver. Surrounded by icebergs, this frozen slice of risen Hell lurks at the far northeast of the world, cut off from the khert and overrun by savage Mmatont. The only way to tell it is land and not another berg is the darkness of its spruce-covered single mountain, and the few specks of firelight that burn therein.

There is only one way to reach the detestable place: a small craft on a moonless midnight, under the care of a pilot that knows the patrol patterns of the local police skiffs. I have never liked giving up coin - nor control - to these green-stinking hoods. There is no alternative. The khert-lines do not extend past the Tainish shore of the mainland. I cannot offset there.

I had never visited Anchert with Rahm, and he'd never been at all. As our boat docked inconspicuously on the great island's least populated shore, I watched him closely. I had chosen a smart, double-breasted wool coat, warm pymaric boots with a three week charge, blood red swineletskin gloves, a cosy muffler of feathers and fur.

Rahm was wholly quilted. Like a bedspread. I think Iori had dressed him.

"Man should not be here," he muttered, rasping his hands together and stomping his feet, "We were not designed to be here. The makers set aside the north for white bears and fat waterbitches; and Alderode stole it from them."

"Watch yourself," I whispered, crushing close to confer a bit of warmth, "They do not like the A-word here. The Mmatont would have every Ald out of Tain, had they their way."

"Well, I can see how they've so far managed it with this island. No sane person would want to live here. Is that why Alderode has let them be?"

I suppose that could be the case. The Mmatont - that is, the modern Tains who occupy Anchert - have long foolishly demanded that Alderode return their ancestral valley to them, and in fact, all of pymary. I will spare you the uninteresting history of it all, but they only agreed to meet Rahm and myself tonight because he is Crescian and I am a stateless fiend and we both are Black Tongues. Alderode happily hates the two of us as much as they hate the Mmatont, and the Mmatont hate them.

It was a few hours tedium disembarking. We hired servants to haul our trunks to our arranged lodgings inside of the mountain, and paid the stinking pilot a criminal amount of money. He promised to be back the next evening. Soon enough but not as soon as I'd have liked, Rahm and I were following a swarthy towhead deep underground.

The pissmop was dressed all in natty furs, and carried an open flame torch like some manner of primitive. What a hoot! What a safari. Rahm raised an eyebrow, pulled a pymaric light from his pocket. I shook my head. These freaks thought pymary should have remained with their ancestors. If he or I were going to cast or use any of our modern devices, it might raise the curtain on inconvenient drama.

"I suppose I can understand why the formulas have remained hidden here," whispered Rahm in Continental. Why was he whispering? I doubt the pissmop could understand. "It's wholly counterintuitive that something so helpful to burgeoning technology might be found in this backwards mountain."

Rahm tucked the little pymaric away, looking about at the living stone walls and the evidence of the painstakingly slow and primitive pymary that had formed them thousands of years ago. It must have been all State change and Heat siphoning to create the Contour, then Mass displacement to crack the block from the root; finally a reversal to haul each slab outside. I could still see the corrugations in sections of the wall; time had worn the floor smooth as a mill pond.

"They weren't always backwards," I pointed out.

"Even when Tainish civilisation was at its high peak, they knew nothing of Sounding. How-"

"The Tains didn't write these formulas, Raptor. The agib did."

My Crescian friend shook his head ruefully. "Do they even know what they have? They wouldn't need to live like this if they'd sell some of their secrets."

"Nationalism," I explained at his temple, and my breath made his wee feather earring dance, "Too many fools live and die unable to see beyond the colour of the dirt their mother shit them into. Oh, to beat your chest in the mud."

"But they're letting us in. Surely the fools understand we won't be keeping this to ourselves."

I nodded. "They do, but small men are weak to that other great psychological bugbear: you see, their god has TOLD them they must-"

The toe of my boot caught on an uneven seam in the floor, and only grasping Rahm's elbow kept me upright. I looked down.

"Rahm!" I called reflexively, "Rahm. Blood."

He clawed the clasp of his quilted coat open, then hiked up its long skirts to keep them from the gore. It was still red and tacky - sticky - and ran in a trail ahead of us down the black corridor.

"Just where are you leading us!" he demanded of the pissmop.

Our guide seemed confused at first, then saw the shock on our faces, saw the blood, and laughed. "You're not in danger, Black Tongues." His features were sharp in the firelight. His teeth too white, too sharp. I did not care for the effect at all.

"I know we're not," answered Rahm haughtily, seguing smoothly to only slightly accented Tainish, "But you are. If you plan to ambush us, do it now. Here. There's already a mess to be cleaned, and I can end your life with a minimum of additional blood spilled. I'd hate to put out our hosts any more than we have."

Very sexy, Raptor.

The pissmop smirked. He raised a mollifying hand and said again: "You are not in danger, Black Tongues. If you want your poxy numbers, follow me."

"Bastion," Rahm breathed, "Going any further seems stupid even for you."

"I know," I sighed in return, "But I want the poxy numbers."

In the end, Rahm had promised me. And I knew there was something here that he wanted too. With the trail of blood between us, we hurried to catch up with the Soud.

((Second part here))

#whumptober #unsounded #it goes whumpy next part :)

51 notes · View notes

quinnyundertow · 9 months ago

Text

The Cult Leader’s Quarry

TW: NSFW 18+ , canon typical violence, murder, stalking, self-harm

CHAPTER 3 NOOSE DRAWS TIGHTER

Your home is embarrassingly sparse. The furniture is clearly secondhand from some local goodwill or flea market. The items are all mismatched and of varying levels of quality but it’s obvious the current owner cares for everything. This is what they call house poor. You spend so much on rent that the rest of your aspects of life suffer. He expected nothing more from a pathetic monkey.

The late afternoon sun paints the room in this orange glow as Suguru Geto crosses your living area. He walks in an oddly ethereal style, his robes moving almost imperceptibly. He pauses to pick up some gaudy decorative items off your side tables. He peers at them briefly before moving to the small bookcase you own. It’s mainly filled with manga trash and fantasy drivel. Though a few authors catch his eye towards the bottom, Murasaki Shikoku, Sei Shonagon, Leo Tolstoy, Fukumi Shimura, Sun Tzu, Osamu Dazai. So you’re not as stupid as he thought. For a monkey that is. He plucks out the book Colors of a Mother by Fukumi Shimura. It's an unpretentious book with nothing on the blue cover but the title and author. Turning it over in his hands he studies it for a moment. He hadn’t seen any sign you had a child. What a strange reading choice. Without another thought he pockets the book in his robes.

He’s wasting time, who cares that the monkey can read the classics. Refocusing, he takes a small black device no bigger than a pencil’s eraser. Due to his naturally tall form he doesn’t need a step stool to simply apply the tiny camera to the kitchen’s smoke detector in a way that looks inconspicuous. If Satoru wanted to destroy his curses, Suguru would just have to utilize technology rather than sorcery. There’s this voice screaming in the back of his head that he’s wasting time away from his true objective of eradicating all non-sorcerers. Nothing that voice says now matters. He has isolated himself so completely from other adults these last two years. That something about you has him coming back for more. He will devour and disassemble you; but tonight just doesn’t feel right. Not now, he can’t wait for that moment really. But he needs something more from you first. He’s not sure yet what that thing is.

Continuing his tour of your home, he notes your bedroom is surprisingly childish. You have stuffed animals strewn around the room, a thick fluffy comforter and hanging string lights. He can’t help the tiny smile that creeps on his face at the idea of the corporate woman he’s seen sleeping here at night. Speaking of corporate women, you should be home any minute now. He quickly places a camera in your bedroom before entering the messiest room in the house so far, the bathroom. You had been in a rush this morning. A makeup bag lay on your sink. Taking up your perfume he sprays a little in the air just to get a whiff. A shiver runs through him as he takes the scent in. He decides he wants to play a game with you. He picks up your toothbrush and sets it down in the opposite way you had it before. Would you notice? There’s a wall vent in the bathroom the perfect height for a voyeur's camera. He easily pops off the cover to set his camera inside when he can’t help but freeze. There’s already a camera inside the vent. It’s an older clunkier model that can’t stream but it can certainly be programmed to run at certain hours and record during them.

He feels his blood thrumming loud in his ears. Who has been spying on you? You’re his quarry, his target, his prey. Who was infringing on his territory? He barely hears your key in the front door lock before he applies his camera into a different area and leaves the older model for now. He slats the vent home and flicks off the bathroom light as you enter the main room. You’re all sighs as you shuffle around the kitchen and dining room. He’s sure you’ll have to pee soon and slips into your tub shower and stands behind the curtain.

The fact that you could find him here. Or that he could jump out and be on top of you at any second has him feeling a new type of elation he never had before. All his nerve endings are on fire as the bathroom light flicks on. The navy shower curtains is dark enough to obscure his figure. You give another long sigh and the intimate noises that follow give him an instant boner. You’re peeing while thinking you're alone. He isn’t even able to enjoy the full experience as he’s instantly is reminded of the other camera in the vent. He needs to take care of that. The idea that someone else is taking advantage of your private moments, the ones meant only for him, is going to drive him mad.

There’s the sound of your clothes hitting the floor and Suguru has an anticipatory knot his throat. One of your dainty hands reaches blindly into the shower and turns the water on. The cold water blasts his clothes but he barely feels it beneath his racing pulse. If you see him here it’s game over for you. He will either have to kill you or force you into a state where you are unable to tell anyone.

His breathing is picking up but the sound of the shower is masking it. When you step past the shower’s billowing curtain he’s going to grab you by the shoulders and slam you into the shower wall. He’ll let the freezing water spray you down. Your skin will erupt into goosebumps while your nipples harden painfully. You’ll be so terrified-

There’s a noise as you leave the bathroom. You must have forgotten something in your bedroom. Despite the fantasy's allure he exits the bath quickly. He isn’t ready for this new game to end yet.

He’s creeping to the bathroom exit when he sees a pair of your used panties at the top of your dirty clothes pile. He doesn’t even hesitate a moment before he swiftly pockets them. Geto is out of your apartment and riding the elevator to the first floor before you even return to the bathroom.

The longer he walks down the streets the more his mind works itself up into a frenzy. His consciousness is in turmoil. Why hasn’t he killed you yet? Is he getting weak? Is his resolve really that shaky? He pauses at a crosswalk on his journey to the train station. A monkey approaches him from the sidewalk. Her hips are swaying and hair is meticulously styled, “Hey handsome, looking-“ her spiel is interrupted by screams as the curse he let loose melts away her features until she’s no more than a mummified husk. He continues walking when the crosswalk indicates he’s safe to and ignores all the hysterical bystanders who just saw that monkey spontaneously combust.

So he isn’t weak, he didn’t feel anything when he murdered that woman. If anything he feels relief that one more monkey will no longer be on this planet. So you are his problem. Oddly enough that irritates him more. He pulls out the soft pink panties he had stolen off your floor. He holds them tightly in his fist as his jaw works in annoyance. He’s going to throw them into the next trash bin he passes. The entire walk home, bin after bin goes by and his grip on your cloth only tightens.

He’s doing mental gymnastics in order to justify not throwing them away. They were his reward; his trophy for his troubles. No one needed to know where it was from. He was the master of his own universe; he could do what he wished.

When he finally arrives home and locks the office door behind him his grip loosens. His fingers are slightly cramped from the extended vice grip they were held in. Little crescent moons dot the palm of his hand from his nails pressure. In a way he felt like a giddy teen once again doing something forbidden. He and Satoru had stolen panties before as a dare. This somehow felt far more satisfying.

Opening his hands he spread the cloth to view the whole article. It was cute, soft, and slightly stained at the crotch. Did someone turn you on today or were you naturally this wet? He couldn’t help but shiver as he lifted the garment to his face. He presses the softness to his cheek and inhales deeply the musky scent of you. His eyes roll back in his head as he continues to breathe you into him. He can’t wait to spread your thighs and get it from the source. Looking at the slightly damp crotch he tentatively licks, and then sucks at the fabric. There’s not enough there to taste your essence but the fact that your pussy dripped on this spot for hours today is enough to drive him wild.

He’s slipping open his robes. He doesn’t need to totally remove them to pull out his rock hard member. His tip is a furious scarlet with pearls of precum drooling from it. He’s rougher with himself than he normally would be. Your panties are pressed to his face so he can smell you all around him. He milks himself harshly and unforgivingly. He’s jerking himself to a fucking monkey. Ensuring he doesn’t enjoy the process as much as he could, he squeezes himself in a way that he will likely show bruises tomorrow. At the moment of his climax he releases his twitching cock. Slumping against the door he whimpers as he ruins his own orgasm. His hips are bucking in want, wishing for that gentle attention found in the afterglow. As long as he’s lusting over this damn monkey he doesn't intend to allow himself any real relief.

It’s Thursday evening and you have been absolutely swamped at work this week. Your boss is genuinely a nice guy but when he’s getting reamed out by the higher powers, you and Zoe end up having to help with whatever unreasonable request is handed down. Instead of leaving around six both of you had pulled a late one tonight only leaving after ten PM.

The two of you sat in a smaller mom and pop restaurant, the tables on the floor are surrounded by cushions for seating. A half eaten massive bowl of ramen sits in front of you, along with an almost complete third beer. You are somewhat decent at holding your alcohol but tonight it’s hitting a little harder than normal and you are basking in that feeling.

Your attention is jerked up when Zoe slams her second beer down looking satisfied. Unlike you, Zoe cannot hold her alcohol at all and is generally reduced to a good natured giggly drunk by the evening’s end.

You're pushing around some noodles before putting them in your mouth with a lament, “What’s the buddhist version of hell.”

Zoe cackles, “We’re probably already in it. Look around you, ain’t it swell.” Suddenly a pair of chopsticks are pointing directly at your face just an inch away from your nose. Guessing you are thinking about your encounter with that monk earlier this week she continues, “You need to let that shit go. Didn’t you go past his temple when you saw him the second time? If anything, you're the stalker at this point.” Zoe eyes closed, is nodding to herself now as if someone else has made a really good point in the conversation.”

You pout heavily picking up a fishcake experimentally before putting it back into your bowl. “I wasn’t thinking about him and I didn’t call him a stalker..”

There’s a shuffling beside your booth as the third and final party member stumbles back from the restroom. He’s a lanky guy, his legs go on forever as he awkwardly sits back beside Zoe. “Let’s not use our chopsticks to point at others.” He chides lightly, tapping her arm.

Staring at her arm still stretched across the table Zoe reluctantly puts it down with a frown. “Y/N needed a scolding because she thinks she's got beef with a Buddhist Monk.”

You wave your hands quickly in embarrassment gesturing for Zoe to shut up. Unfortunately, all that did was grab your bosses interest even more. You quickly try to dissuade that interest. “I’m overreacting, really. I just ran into this monk two times and each time he just stared down like I spit on Buddha.”

Your boss tilts his head. He tends to take things seriously and apparently this would be no different. He raises a pale hand with bitten down fingernails; to rub the side of his hooked nose. “A Monk? Are they one of those culty types out of that former time association building?”

You gape up at him, which gains you an awkward but pleased smile in return, “Higuruma, how did you know that?”

He laughs under his breath so the motion is there but not the noise, “I make it my business to know what’s going on around here. I haven’t felt inclined to go to a service myself as it’s all mumbo jumbo hogwash but I’ve heard a man in monk's robes runs the place and has a decent following so far. His followers proclaim he can perform healing miracles.”

Zoe’s listening attentively despite being totally smashed and leaning against the wall for support, “Eugh, gross. Y/n, maybe walk on the opposite side of the street from now on.”

You nod at Zoe’s comment, “I have been and that seems to have worked.”

Your boss Higuruma Hiromi tilts his head to the side while watching you, “Did he say something to harass you?”

Your face is totally flushed with humiliation at this point. You are clearly overreacting and Higuruma’s kindness is just slamming that point home, “No he hasn’t said a word to me, please don’t concern yourself.”

Your boss waves for the check while mulling everything over, “You're not exactly one for theatrics. Let me know if something changes, we had better head out now if we want to make the last trains home.”

Unlike most corporate drinking, it didn’t feel forced at all when you were both invited out by Higuruma. He was unassuming and sincere, kept his private life to himself and never overstepped work boundaries like so many other men did in the workplace.

Exiting out into the cool air you watched pretty little puffs waft by from your exhales. The sidewalk was surprisingly busy considering the hour. Ahead of you Zoe gives a bit of a stagger causing you to giggle as Higuruma shakes his head in an affectionate manner before putting his arm through hers to give her balance. You can’t help but smile lightly at their backs. They would make a cute couple.. then again you didn’t even know if Higuruma was single.

It was at that point a chill went up your spine. Goosebumps rippled down your limbs and you reflexively pulled your arms to you and rubbed yourself to keep warm. You felt this undercurrent of unease, a creeping anxiety, like a predator was stalking you from the bushes. You keep walking with your group but you couldn’t help looking over your shoulder trying to see what gave you that ominous feeling. You aren’t the tallest person in the world but you figure a man in monk's robes would stick out like a sore thumb…..a man in monks robes? Why would you assume it was that monk again? You are really being weird about this whole thing. There was absolutely no one behind you that was paying you any mind. You need to stop drinking if this is how it affects your anxiety.

You turn to catch up with your group and when you do dark blue and gold catch your eye across the street. On the opposite side of the road walks the man who has been haunting your thoughts lately. The way he strolls down the sidewalk is as if he has nothing else in the world to do. Not only is he on the wrong side of the street but he’s still behind you by a block or so and isn’t even looking your way. Yet the goosebumps remain.

You turn and rush forward, bumping interesting others in order to catch up with your small group. Once within talking distance you realize there’s nothing for you to say. The man is simply existing and you’re freaking out. He’s probably on his way back to his temple which is on the way to the station. The level of panic you feel thrumming through your veins is uncalled for. You decide to stay closer to your group, feigning being unaffected, as you try with all your might not to look over your shoulder anymore to see if he’s still there.

“That’s the place right?” Higuruma nods, talking over his shoulder to you. You finally allow yourself to turn but instead of stopping at the temple’s building you're looking further back trying to find that man again walking along the sidewalk. Your gaze goes from person to person with no luck. He’s no longer on the sidewalk and you overreacted again. The guy in question probably entered his “workplace”. Higuruma watches you, puzzled as you look further behind the place for a moment and then give him your assent.

“Yeah.. that’s the place he was standing outside of when his cocksure buddy spilled my coffee and then asked me out to replace it.”

Zoe gave a fit of giggles at that, “Some men have no tact. Is it safe to assume you said no?”

You can’t help but blush at her correct assumption, “Kind of? I think. I don’t know, I ran like hell when I saw that Monk standing there all pissy.” Your group is crossing the street at an intersection close to the subway system. You can’t help but feel relief as the building fades from sight.

Zoe is leaning against Higuruma who is trying to keep a straight face as he holds her up under her arm. He fails when her next words are, “Maybe he just needs to get laid. God knows you do y/n.”

Your older boss chokes and has a minor coughing fit at the topic change, “Allllright Zoe, you’ve lost your talking privileges.” You’re scanning all three of your train passes as you head down a long group of stairs.

Zoe decides to ignore the memo and continues, “I am not judging, I need to get laid too. That’s why we’re going clubbing tomorrow evening. You can come too but you gotta loosen up a little guruma.”

His face is bright red and he looks like he's regretting everything that brought him to this point in his life. “I’ll go ahead and pass on that one Miss Zoe. I'm a little old for clubbing..also not really sure that’s appropriate as I’m your superior..”

The station is bustling with people trying to get home before the last train at midnight. There’s that loud overhead beeping letting you know the train you need is about to leave the station and the three of you race into the car and into a row of sideways seats. You couldn’t help but enjoy Zoe giving your boss the third degree. You had thought he was attractive and tried to hit on him for a while after being hired, to no avail. The man took his job as a defense attorney way too seriously for a woman to distract him.

The banter is natural and amusing as the two bicker lightly over things that don’t matter. You find yourself laughing lightly, just letting the booze marinate in you as the train leaves the station and moves towards your home. You are the second to last stop while Zoe is two before you. “Are you even able to get home safely Zoe?”

Your friend nods before flexing her arm, “You dare doubt me?” she gives a shit eating grin as Higuruma eyes her skeptically.

“I think I’ll walk Miss Zoe home. Just to be sure.” He mutters. If it was anyone other than Higuruma Hiromi you would never allow your girlfriend to be walked home by a man alone. But this man had an ironclad code of conduct and was one of those rare people you felt you could trust with your life. He sees the absolute worst of humanity every day. Trying to defend the innocent in cases that are labeled unwinnable. Sometimes his code of ethics is all he can rely on at the end of the day.

Nodding you let your body be gently jostled by the train car.’You aren’t exactly excited to be going home yourself. In fact, everyday this week you seem to dread it a little more. It had gotten to the point where you practically begged the complex's maintenance group to change your locks yesterday.

Little things had been around everyday this week. Your toothbrush, placed opposite of how you normally left it. Your makeup bag left unzipped with the smell of your perfume in the air. Those two were odd but could be explained as thoughtlessness.

Then came the harder things to explain. When collecting your dirty laundry to take to the communal washroom your dirty panties were nowhere to be found. You scoured the whole apartment trying to prove to yourself that you had just accidently left them in an odd spot to no avail. The straw that broke the camel's back was when you woke yesterday morning. One of your kitchen chairs had been pulled into your bedroom while you slept and was left for you to find facing your bed.

Once your heart was out of your throat and you could breath without hyperventilating you called the maintenance crew to get a fresh lock. That way if the landlord had lied about changing the locks before you moved in and/or had lost a spare key. It would be handled. While it isn’t a big change, you 're happy with the fact that you took initiative and got it done.

The train ride is short as you doze in your seat. Something about the warmth of the train car and the close proximity of friends gave you this sense of invulnerability. When the overhead announcer pages Zoe’s stop you look over to see Higuruma struggling with Zoe’s dead weight. You laugh at his face as the two leave the train. The doors close after a moment and the steady rhythm once again picks up. Your eyes are falling shut a little longer every time you blink. That is until an eerily familiar voice emanates from the seat directly in front of you, “Are you trying to be victimized?”

Chapter 2 —————————————Chapter 4

Taglist: @divinedolliebun

Shares & Reblogs are loved 🥰

#yandere suguru geto #jujutsu kaisen #ao3 fanfic #yandere geto x reader #Geto Suguru #suguru geto #suguru geto x reader #quinnythelibrary

83 notes · View notes