#S-man about to get his entire existence rocked | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelsdagger · 3 months ago

Text

devil’s advocate || joel miller x f!reader

happy belated birthday to the man himself :3

pairing: daddy dom!joel x f!reader rating: 18+ explicit minors dni summary: joel misses you while he’s away at work. warnings: [no-outbreak], established relationship, age gap [reader is 20’s, joel is late 50’s], dd/lg dynamics, daddy kink, sending nudes, m!masturbation, possessive language, pet names [little bug, baby angel], mentions of reader wearing a collar, references to: smut, tummy bulge, and creampies, joel’s pov. word count: 2.3k

a/n: let’s pretend this isn’t my second fic of joel having a wank lmao. anyways! this is another little snippet of life with daddy joel. however, it can be read as a standalone, but if you would like some context of how this all started, i recommend reading intermission first. a gazillion thank you’s to @pedrospatch for beta’ing this for me, for all the reassurance, and not letting me get cold feet and to @dinandwhiskey for yapping about these two with me endlessly from day one, this silly little concept wouldn’t exist without you <33

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | playlist

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Joel’s in his office looking at blueprints when his phone buzzes against his leg. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, eyes squinting as the bright screen lights up his dim office. His heart pinches in his chest when he sees your name across his screen.

do you like this one daddy?

Attachment: 1 image

He taps on the notification. His mouth hangs open, throat dry, dumbfounded as he takes in the picture. You, on your knees in the bedroom, wearing a white slip nightgown. The sleeves cut off at your shoulders; there’s a lace trimming along the neckline — too high for his liking — that it almost meets the heart-shaped charm dangling from your collar; angel, it reads; he smiles to himself when he sees it. The lace continues down your front and stops at your middle, where a matching white belt cinches in your waist, accentuating your figure. The silk material cuts at your knees.

Jesus Christ. There’s a tightness in his stomach, and somewhere else. He knows what you’re doing, knows this is a game you play very well. You know you don’t need his opinion or permission. Everything you wear, everything you do drives him fucking crazy. You drive him crazy.

Whatever you like, angel, he types out. His thumb hovers over the too small blue arrow when another text with a different photo attached comes through.

or how about this one?

This time the slinky nightgown is baby pink, lace running across the deep neckline. The material clings to your breasts so well, he can tell your nipples are peaked beneath it. There’s matching lace at the bottom of the skirt, cuts high up your left thigh, and a tiny bow sits atop the slit, identical to the one in between your breasts.

The stiffness in his jeans starts to throb. You’ve got him wrapped around your pretty little finger, so much you’ve conditioned him to get hard anytime he sees– thinks of you.

He’s so damn hard. Rock solid, and he can’t wait any longer. He pops open his jeans, and drags the zipper down too quick; it snags on denim. He doesn’t even hesitate to unzip the metal teeth of his fly entirely, he’s too desperate. Joel shucks his cotton boxers down enough to clumsily pull his already leaking cock out. He spits in his hand, groans lowly as he curls it around his heavy length, and starts pumping.

Joel’s head falls back, and he breathes a sigh of relief as he fucks his fist. He was half-hard all day, All your fault, he thinks. Trotting into the kitchen in one of your pretty little dresses while he cooked up your breakfast, your head bopping along to the record he’d put on as you rounded the kitchen island to take your seat at the table, plate full of eggs and bacon in hand to start your morning. Hips swaying, frilly fabric swishing, barely covering the plump curve of your ass, but just enough to tease him. Something you’re always doing.

His mind wanders. Imagines what the material you’re wearing in the photo feels like in his hands. You both favor the frilly dresses, tiny and soft against your skin. He’s always careful not to rip the delicate fabric; he likes the sight of fucking you in them more than ripping them into pieces. But he likes the silk ones too; likes running his roughened fingertips along the lace trimming, tracing it over your breasts, following the line down your body until his fingers meet your bare thighs. His hands always dipping beneath the hem, seeking more, as if it’s second nature to him. Fingers finding your sex — always dripping with arousal — then his palms move to the swell of your ass, gripping and digging into your plush flesh, pulling you closer into his chest and both of you moaning in unison.

He groans, bites his bottom lip to stifle it. He can’t be too loud, not with his crew on the other side of the door. You make him feel like a damn teenager. Making him so hard that he has to jack his cock in the quiet dark of his office, willing himself not to make a sound because he’s too impatient to wait until he returns to you. That’s what you do to him.

Joel can never get through a full workday without thinking of you. You…simply living and breathing is all that manages to take up his mind. All he ever thinks about is you, consumes his very being. All of this is nothing. Serves as nothing but a distraction for him until he can get back to you. Never not checking every damn clock or a crew members' watch at every turn on every job site, nearly begging for the day....everyday to be over, wants nothing more than to take you into his bed or take you right there on the couch or the kitchen if that’s where you are when he gets home. Wants to spread you out and split you open on his cock, burying himself in until he meets resistance and elicits that soft gasp from your lips, the one that makes him forget about the world for a moment or two. Wants to grab your hand and cup his shape through your tummy and tell you, Feel me right there, baby? Daddy’s always right there, ain’t he?

He hears your moan echoing in his ears, and the quick tugs of his fist increase almost unconsciously. He used to think the sounds you made were his favorite. Your giggles when he pulls at your ankles to bring you closer. Your whimpers when he teases his cock over your panties (in retaliation for teasing him). Your body writhing beneath the broad weight of him when he finally slips it in; daddy, pouring from your lips as he plays with you.

Now, he reckons it’s more than that.

It’s how you taste on his tongue — warm and sweet when he glides it through your drooling folds. It’s how you feel around him — your little wet cunt sucking him in, made just right for him. Your skin, soft and delicate, waiting to be marked black and blue. Your body putty and pliant, curling and melting into him on the couch or in his bed after a long day. It’s how you trust him completely — without hesitation as he does what he pleases with you. It's how you look at him — gorgeous wide eyes sparkling and a sleepy smile on your face beaming up at him in the soft morning glow when you wake up beside him. It’s the first thing he sees every morning and his heart fucking flutters.

It’s everything. All of it and more.

His fist tightens around his cock, thumb sweeping over his wide tip — leaking and an angry shade of purple. Angry because his fist isn’t enough; it’ll never be enough–

His phone buzzes as a third photo with a message pops into the text thread, his head snaps down and his eyes meet the photo in a nanosecond.

is it too short daddy?

He inhales sharply through his nose as he studies the photo; you’re wearing the same outfit, only now you’re bent at the waist, your hands flat on the mattress, and leaning forward on the balls of your feet — ruffled white socks sitting low on your ankles. The lace hem of your skirt has ridden up just enough to reveal yourself to him. You. On full display — only for him to see — and yet–

Not short enough, he wants to respond.

He sets his phone down on his denim-clad thigh, thumb tapping on the photo before his fingers pinch outward, zooming in.

Christ. There they are. Taunting him beneath the thin pink cherry speckled panties that barely cover your holes, just waiting for him — waiting to be filled until you’re sore and leaking and so full of him he has to work his cum back into your spent hole.

Hole.

He hasn’t delivered on his promise to fill the other one. Not in the way you’ve been asking.

Baby angel, we oughta do it right. We oughta go slow.

He’s been training you for the last little while; he knows he’s too big to take all at once. One day he’ll make good on his promise. Daddy always keeps his promises, don’t he little bug?

His phone buzzes once more, cutting through his reverie. You sent him a fourth photo with–

miss you daddy :(

The skirt of your nightgown is bunched around your hips, your thighs spread and fingers skimming beneath the band of your panties, his eyes trail down, following the line of your small fingers, and then he sees it–

The wet stain of your slick on the front of your baby pink panties; your cute little clit, soft and puffy against the sheer material — peeking out — almost like it’s calling out for him.

Fuck. Poor baby. Daddy’s comin’. Just a little longer.

Joel’s jaw clenches, and the tension pulls taut in his stomach. He should be there. Needs to be there. Push the head of his cock past your puffy folds — returning home — repenting for being away for so long, for leaving you at all. Warm velvet walls pulsing around him as he thrusts in, in, in.

Beads of sweat roll off his forehead and into his temples, pencil slipping from behind his ear and clattering on the wooden floor as he lets his head roll back on his neck, hitting the back of the chair, his eyes slip closed. Lets himself think of sinking into you, the warmth of your skin against his, your velvet cunt snug around him — soft and swollen and wet — fluttering around him, squeezing him until he comes.

His hips falter, breath now shaky and weak, muscles in his belly tightening as the coil deep within him threatens to snap. Joel retracts his left hand from his phone and lifts it to cup the weight of his balls, kneading gently at the stretchy flesh. His office chair squeaks as his back arches, canting his hips upwards, rutting into his own fist — desperate — like a fucking puppy. His left hand squeezes around his balls tighter, right arm tenses as his wrist pumps faster — still not enough.

He hears you then — all whiny and meek — Daddy. Please. Daddy, fill me up, need it inside please.

And it’s all he needs.

“Ohh baby,” he breathes, mouth falling open, filthy groans clawing through the walls of his throat, echoing against the ceiling and the four walls of his office, as the tidal waves crash over him and take him under.

His head snaps down in time to watch his release, cock pulsing and twitching as thick, hot ropes of cum spurting from his tip coat the distressed wood of his desk, landing within a hair's breadth of the blueprints. Shouldn’t be there. He thinks of painting your insides with him, filling you up with his spend and making you his, over and over and over.

Fuck, that’s it — Fuck, he groans.

He’s in a trance, and it’s almost like he’s coming again. His thighs tremble as his thumb glides across his tip, and he imagines the curved head nudging against that special place inside you while your nails scrape across the nape of his neck, marking him as yours. He lets his eyes close slowly, and then he sees you, his eyes dancing across your face, watching as it twists up in pleasure as his thick head prods at his favorite place again and again. Until your eyes water and you’re gushing around him, dripping cunt clutching him until you milk him of everything he has to offer, sanctifying himself with every last drop.

His guttural groans settle into tired sighs, and his wrist slows as he nears the end of his orgasm, but he doesn’t stop, not until he’s certain he’s milked himself completely, just as he would if he were nestled inside you. When the last of his release dribbles down onto his fist, body still shaking and pulsating from his climax, he thinks he’s never come this hard by his own hand.

His hand comes to a stop, and his breath begins to steady, chest rising and falling as his lungs fill with air. His left hand finds his phone again, props it up while his right still clutches his softening cock, hissing as his fist meets the swollen cockhead — dripping and covered with cum. He snaps a picture, shaky fingers backspace his previous message, and instead types out, Naughty little girl. Look what you made Daddy do. And taps the small arrow without another thought, sending it on its way to you. And he blames it on the blood pumping and surge of energy rushing through him in the wake of his intense orgasm — and you for making him feel alive.

He doesn’t wait for a response before he sends another message.

It’s perfect, angel. Keep it on till I get home. Got a surprise for you.

You reply seconds later:

yes daddy 🩷

He smirks. Attagirl.

Joel clicks his phone off, runs a hand down the scruff of his beard before leaning over his desk with a grunt, careful as to not sully his shirt with his release. He fumbles around his junk drawer for a small pack of pink heart-themed tissues, dabs at droplets of sweat on his forehead before wiping up his spend on his fist and desk. He tucks his soft cock back beneath his black boxers, and takes a moment to unsnag his fly, zipping up his jeans. His aching knees regain function, and he stands, heavy legs dragging him through his office and stalking towards the door. When his weak fist meets cold steel, he makes a mental note to stop by the store to pick up the butterfly charms he promised you.

follow and turn on notifs for @joelsdaggerupdates to learn when i post fic!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #daddy!joel #tw daddy kink #noelle's workshop

996 notes · View notes

tteokdoroki · 11 months ago

Note

hi hi !! :3 first off ur new theme is soo so cute!! n for your valentines event i wanted to send in one for satoru + an amusement park date as the gift !! you can make it sweet or spicy but i don’t have a specific kink in mind for it so that’s free range for ya ehehe

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — SATORU GOJO. swipe spicy: high on you.

about. boom, it’s a match! satoru gojo has always come up with creative ways to celebrate the most romantic day of the year. this time, he decides to make things a little naughtier atop a ferris wheel ride ( 1.4K ).

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, established relationships, fingering, public sex, exhibitionism, also ik ferris wheels don’t exist at amusement parks shuddap!! fem!reader.

・:〃⤥ bumble date, swipe right event !

every valentine’s day you’ve spent with satoru has been unique. different.

for your first, he’d filled every corner of your apartment with every type of flower he could possible find because he wasn’t sure what type was your favourite (he was too nervous to ask). for the second, he’d rented out an entire aquarium for you to walk through and dragging him through each exhibition with pure unfiltered joy. for the Valentine’s Day that he had proposed — your third or fourth, satoru had rented a plane that carried the message ‘will you marry me?’ to fly over your rooftop dinner date. you’d said yes, of course, and every day with satoru since had been a wild ride.

even now, years into your life together, he remained just as crafty and as adventurous as satoru’s gojo had always been.

“s-satoru!” you squeal needily, tucking your face into your lover’s shoulder in a weak attempt to muffle your weak cries and trembling voice. “‘toru please. n-not here. n-not now,” you add when his slender and inquisitive fingers dip past the waistband of your jeans and the scalloped edge of your cotton panties. he’s been like this all day, feeling you up in line for different rides, licking the sugar from your fingers outside overpriced concessions stands dotted across the amusement park he'd taken you to. and now, satoru’s ravenousness has come to a head — with him trying to finger fuck you at the top of the ferris wheel. “p-people are around!”

while typically a romantic spot to watch the world go by, the white haired man has his heart set on making you squirm and cry at the highest peak of the ride. “that’s what makes this all the more fun, right baby?” his digits flex under the rough denim of your jeans in an attempt to get a feel for your wetness all while gojo whispers sinful words against the shell of your ear — hot breath cascading down the back of your neck and sending shivers down your spine. “relax for me, we’re too high up for anyone to notice. let me make you feel good, yeah?”

your hips buck down against your lover’s hand for a taste of friction — chasing the blistering hot sensation that spreads through your lower tummy once his fingertips come into contact with your swelling, pulsating clit. the very notion of your body succumbing to a few of gojo’s simple touches has him chuckling breathily in your ear, his voice an octave lower than usual. you can’t help the instinctual response of your quivering, a stream of wetness gathering in the seat of your underwear too.

“do you think i can make you cum by the time we reach the top?” satoru mumbles huskily, lowering his head to your neck so that he can place hot, sloppy kisses to your exposed skin — contrasting with the night air. tufts of white hair tickle at your jaw, sending you into a fit of shakes and shivers that make your cart of the ferris wheel rock back and forth. “don’t answer that, i know i can.” he’s cocky when he teases you and has every right to be, your thighs twitch apart instinctively to make space for satoru’s hand between them.

he skilfully massages your pretty little pussy even from underneath tight denim jeans, circling in your entrance as it dribbles sweet salacious nectar for him. so much so, that you might soil the fabric of your clothes. if your arousal seeps through, would you drip and gush on all those people below? the thought crosses your might and only serves to turn you on even more — evident in the way you clench around nothing as gojo plays with your empty hole.

“m-mph, satoru,” you hiccup, only tilting your head to face his. your noses nudge slightly, lips ghosting over one another’s while your hot breath mingles. to anyone else — you appear a couple in love, innocently kissing, enjoying a date to the amusement park, and a ride to the top of the ferris wheel. but you’re far from that, and you know it, two delightfully sinful individuals who can’t keep their hands off of one another. “m-more!”

gojo obliges, and you thank whatever diety is up above for blessing him with such magical fingers. two of them slide past your entrance without resistance, stretching your gooey and sensitive walls around their length easily. “hm? what’s the matter, baby?” comes the silver haired man’s lazy response, a sleazy smirk spreading across his plush pink lips at the sound of you squelching around him already. you shake your head at his question, eyes screwed shut since you’re too far gone with the pleasure to answer coherently.

from your side, gojo uses his free hand to keep you nice and spread for him — sapphire eyes glowing in the dark night whilst remaining trained on the way your hips jut down to push back against his fingers inside of you. “god you’re so fuckin’ wet. you really like this, huh? all tbose unsuspecting people below…having no idea that i’m fucking your pussy open right above their heads,” he purrs hungrily and curls his fingers, instantly finding your g-spot because he’s mapped out every inch of your sopping walls and knows them off by heart. “taste yourself for me.”

your lips part on command and tongue rolls out of your mouth to make room for the fingers that have been inside you — sucking on them diligently when satoru presses down on the palette of your tongue. he gets off to the way you taste yourself, moaning around him nastily. you should feel shame and humiliation for acting like this in public, all desperate and needy, but you’re as ravenous and as depraved as satoru is. it’s what makes you a match made in heaven.

with his fingers now tainted with a crude mix of your saliva and arousal, satoru returns them to your temperate and sopping mound — stuffing you full of him once more. he’s knuckle deep in your cunt before you can even moan his name, stroking your insides into the shape of him while you drool syrupy evidence of your arousal into the seat of his palm.

“we’re almost to the top, brace yourself, pretty girl. i gotta see you cum. it’ll give me the prettiest view.” satoru coos to you patronisingly, making sure to grind his wrist against your puffy clit — refusing to let it go unattended. “can you do that for me?”

everything is so sticky and hot, especially with all of the layers of clothes in the way — shielding your dirty act from any onlookers on the ground or in the carts below you. strings of your slick tie satoru’s fingers to your honeyed sex and glue this thumb to your sensitive nub, tucked away between your puffy pussy lips. you claw at the silver haired man’s arm trapped in the middle of your quivering thighs band writhe around in the cart so much so that it creaks with the weight.

you whimper into the cool night air, but satoru lights your body on fire from the inside out — your gut lurching and twisting with an unbearable sense of yearning. “‘m close… think i’m gonna—“ you begin to stutter, bleating like a lamb being sent to the slaughter. you remain at the mercy of your boyfriend’s fast paced fingers, pumping in and out of you with no regard to the painful stack of ecstasy building up inside of you. “please, i can’t hold it, ‘toru,”

“you don’t have to,” your lover tsks in reply, never slowing the speed of his digits stroking at your ribbed walls, slipping and sliding against pleasure spots only he knows exist. “why don’t you let go for me, yeah? there you go. that’s it… just like that and all for me,” satoru’s mouth find yours in the final stretch, sloppy praises whispered against your kiss swollen lips while he rubs over your luscious and equally swollen folds like his life depends on it. “let the people down there know how fuckin’ good i finger fuck this sweet pussy. cum for me baby, i know you can do it.”

each syllable, each impassioned word that escapes him and that he pours into you drags you by the ankle towards your high — and you don’t even try to fight it. once you reach the very top of the ferris wheel, your peak reaches a crescendo. satoru flings himself over you, arm arm wrapped around your shoulders to keep you in place in the cart as your orgasm crashes over you in drowning waves. you slip beneath the surface of pleasure, your cunt rushing like a river while you cum all over satoru’s masterful hand with a muffled cry of his name.

“satoru!”

“shh, quiet…that’s my girl, my sweet sweet girl.” he sighs dreamily, fucking you with your fingers throughout your high — only pulling out of your greedy cunt to slap down on it, dragging more spurts of arousal out of you. you squirt through your jeans, onto the metal seat in your ferris wheel cart and all over satoru. who happily praises you through it all. “i bet you’re just drippin’ on all those nasty strangers below. i’m sure they’d love it.”

catching your breath, you tuck your face into satoru’s neck while you come down from your high (and literally too — your cart begins to make its descent back town from the top of the ferris wheel). “y-you’re sick.”

satoru smiles, slow and sexy. “but you love me,”

“mhm, sure,” you quip, somehow finding the energy to pull away from your debauched lover to shift to your knees in front of him — the cool metal digging into your knees. “maybe i love you just a little.”

“only a little? then why are you on your knees for me?” he asks, spreading his legs to make room for you between them.

“it’s your turn, i want to see if i can make you come before we get to the bottom of the wheel.” you say breathlessly and with mirthy eyes, teeth descending on gojo’s zipper while you bat your eyelashes up at him.

celebrating valentine’s day with satoru was always…unique. different…but you’d be lying if you said you failed to enjoy his unconventional methods of gift giving with the person you loved most.

569 notes · View notes

megumimania · 1 year ago

Text

UNGODLY HOUR

warnings: mentions of alcohol and drugs, fluff at the end (i lied!), rapper!ony x black reader, kinda angsty, reader and ony need therapy, mild swearing, unhealthy relationships, somewhat happy ending

a/n: im back after falling off the face of the earth xx this wasn’t supposed to be this sad, sorry x🤗 im clearing out the drafts

ony kept calling again and again, usually you’d ignore it like what you’ve been doing for the past month but tonight was different, so you finally picked up the phone. “hey.” you answered, your voice still groggy from sleep. “hey? it’s been a month y/n, where the fuck have you been!” he said with a slight slur to his words, he was drunk.

“first off, watch your tone when you talk to me and second of all, i’ve been busy.” you replied with a bite to your tone. now you regretted picking up the phone in the first place. prior to your month of no contact with ony, you were his rock. in an industry full of yes men and record labels who didn’t give a fuck about what he did as long as he dropped music on time, you were a breath of fresh air. you were his peace.

so when he’d have a rough day, or was high or drunk out of his mind, you were the first person he called. and you always came to his rescue, calming him down, helping him sober up, hiding him from the paparazzi—but it got all too much. the infrequent bad days became frequent, and his constant expectation for you to be there when he called, meant you lost out on opportunities and relationships, and you slowly began to build some resentment towards him, but that swiftly came down when you realised he was just hurting and lonely.

you were there for him through everything.

you tried to love him from a distance, help him from a distance but that became overwhelming too. you tried to get him help, but that often went nowhere. after a tense argument with him, you went ghost, needing space from him entirely. you still kept up with him on socials though, anonymously of course and it looked like he was doing well—until tonight.

“busy with what?” he asked. you let out a deep sigh before replying, “busy with my life, i have shit that exists outside of you, you know that right?” he went silent for a second before laughing. you were already tired of his bullshit and it hadn’t been five minutes since you picked up. “ony, why do you keep calling me?” you said, frustration evident in your tone. “i missed you ma.” he said his voice sounding hoarse, you felt your heart break for him all over again.

you were sure that you were gonna regret this decision later but you knew that you couldn’t let him be on his own right now, especially in such a vulnerable state. “im coming over.” you said, hanging up before he could get a word out.

—

the first thing ony did after you stepped into his apartment was pull you in for a hug. you pulled away giving him a once over and he looked like he’d seen better days. “you look a mess.” you frowned, pulling him into the kitchen to get a glass of water. “damn ma is that all you gotta say to me, after a whole ass month?” he looked at you in amazement. “just drink the damn water.” you muttered in annoyance.

“so are you gonna give me an explanation to why you ghosted me for a month?” you rolled your eyes in annoyance. “ony man…don’t fucking do this, im not in the mood.” you sighed, rubbing your temples. “do what? im just asking why you’ve suddenly remembered my existence after a month.” you let out a hollow laugh, “i needed space. ”

“space,from me?” ony scratched his beard, not knowing what to say, so you took it as an opportunity to let out all your frustrations at him. “yes, you. ony, you are the most insufferable, selfish person i’ve ever met. you took a deep breath before continuing, “all i’ve tried to do is help and yet you never take it into consideration, hell you don’t even take me into consideration.”

“I do—” he replied. you gave him a deadpan look, “you don’t, instead you end up on tmz or the shade room for doing stupid shit that makes me wonder if you actually care about your career.” ony’s jaw ticked upon hearing those words leave your mouth. he accepted that he wasn’t perfect by any means, but to come for the only thing that he put his blood, sweat and tears into was a slap in the face.

“so why did you come back?” he said quieter than intended, his eyes slightly glossy from the tears.“ i thought time apart would do us good. you needed to work on yourself and on your music, plus i just didn’t want you to rely on me like that again.” you tentatively step closer to him, caressing his cheek. “ony, i genuinely love and care about you but we can’t do this anymore.” you said, your voice wobbling slightly. “you need to sort your shit out and i can’t help you do that any more.”

the tears came out of nowhere and you gave up on trying to stop them. “I should go.” you said sniffling slightly as your eyes, “i don’t even know why i came here, i should’ve stayed at home.” you grabbed your keys and your phone and was halfway out the door, when ony called out for you. “y/n…i’ll go to therapy, anything! but i just can’t lose you!” he begged, the desperation evident in his voice.

“that’s nice.” you said, wiping your tears. you wanted to believe him so bad but you knew him like the back of your hand, this was one of his lies that he’d make you forget about in an array of large gestures and kisses until the next time he spiralled and flipped out on you. “ony, we both know how this is gonna end up.” you swore that you saw his spirit break at that moment, all the fight he had build up, slowly left as his shoulders sank in defeat.

you left his apartment shortly after, before his sweet words could coax you into thinking that things were gonna be alright, that he was gonna be alright. you expected to leave his apartment with some sense of relief but grief ate away at you, you missed him so much and you hadn’t even reached home yet. you mourned the relationship that you had with him, the relationship that could’ve been if he’d just sought out help that he needed.

you got home as the city began to roar up again and tried to move on, it was hard considering that memories of him were scattered all over your apartment, invoking a wide range of feelings from anger to immense sadness. you knew that moving on wasn’t simple especially when you had such a complex history with him. a life without ony, was a life that was going to take some adjustment to but you were to take it one day at a time.

#vina writes #vina writes: aot #attack on titan #aot x black!reader #aot onyankopon #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x reader #aot angst #writing angst is a nightmare #ony angst #x black fem reader #aot fanfiction #black writblr #attack on titan x black reader #aot

237 notes · View notes

secret-engima · 1 year ago

Text

Kumo Thoughts

So this will hopefully be quick but the most common take I see for Kumo in the Naruto fandom is that it's a overly militaristic hellhole (pardon the language) that kidnaps and forcibly breeds any bloodline it can get its hands on and like.

I get it?

the Naruto ninja world is absolutely messed up enough to accommodate a village like that. Especially with- *waves at Kiri*, *waves at ROOT*, *waves at Ame*, *wa-*. But I feel like personally I think that's. The shallowest take? Like if that's how you wanna world build it! You can! Lots of angst and interesting subterfuge down that way.

But we seen in canon that shinobi who live in Really horrible villages do tend to go missing-nin en masse; Kiri is the poster child for this, but Iwa and Suna both have some ... pretty noticeable defections. On the flip side the only REAL Kumo missing-nin we see, iirc, are the Kinkaku brothers.

From The First Shinobi War.

Like- what are things we know about Kumo *really* from the show/s?

and the one everyone harps on in worldbuilding- they tried to kidnap Hinata and Kushina.

HOWEVER. The rest of the things we know about them are:

2. Their Raikage is allergic to doors. He refuses to acknowledge doors. He can and will smash through any wall, window, or other non-door entity in order to exit or enter a room when at all possible. This is not the behavior of a Strict Rigid Militaristic Man this is the behavior of a feral gorilla someone stuffed in an office and expected to do paperwork. Which, granted, A is fully capable of doing his paperwork, by all accounts he's actually really good at running his village. But again. This man is allergic to doors or manners and anyone who is willing to arm wrestle Senju Tsunade to get medical assistance for his own men can't be all bad let's be real.

3. Killer B exists. I feel like he alone is enough evidence against the "military breeding program hellhole" fanon but to break it down. This "brother" of A is not actually his brother. In canon, B is literally just- *some kid*, AT BEST a cousin of the previous Jinchuuriki but that is not confirmed iirc, that was among several other kids that were all lined up and told "we need a new Jinchuuriki and A needs a fighting buddy, run at this training dummy and see if you can help him decapitate it" and when B was the one who succeeded they went "congrats you're his brother now, here's your complimentary octopus monster". And like everyone just accepts this? Not a SINGLE person calls B as a fake brother or points out that he and A are not actually related. Not to mention B has the strongest and most stable relationship with his Biju until Naruto and Kurama work out their bromance, and B was rocking that friendship with his biju *years* before Naruto even knew Kurama was a Thing That Existed.

4. B is also beloved by his village. BELOVED. The people adore him and his weird rapping nonsense. And yeah there's flashbacks in the anime to that not being the case when he was first introduced but B was actually able to work on changing their minds. You really think "small feral child rapping at civilians to make them warm up to him" would have flown in Kiri? In Iwa who canonically keep abusing their jinchuuriki to the point of running off? Nope. No sir. B is also allowed to have a team of his own, and seems to not only be an accepted member of the village but also a much trusted and beloved one who is even allowed his own team? Even Konoha doesn't have that good a track record lbr. It took Naruto face punching the guy who just committed genocide on the entire village for Konoha to go "you know what? We like you now".

5. One of the only other jinchuuriki we see that has fully mastered their Biju state and is on good terms with their Biju while also not being a missing-nin (or brainwashed and then immediately dead) is ALSO a Kumo ninja. Namely the holder of the Two Tails. Now on the wiki it says that she was put through a "detestable" training program but we all know how inconsistent Kishi is with... everything worldbuilding ever. And if we go off behavior alone from the brief scenes with her, Yugito Nii is?? Really stable??? And solid with her Biju??? She gave her pawprint for an Uchiha child's book of cat paw prints for crying out loud.

6. throughout the entire show, Jinchuuriki are consistently treated as the lowest class citizens. In basically every village. Naruto in Konoha, Kushina cried when she realized Minato was going to make Naruto a Jinchuuriki and put him through what she went through growing up as one so you know she didn't have a great time either, GAARA is his own entire dissertation on Jinchuuriki treatment and stability, Fuu was raised by the village leader of her village but had zero friends and was canonically super lonely and isolated, Han and Roku straight up ran away from Iwa because of whatever they were put through, a maneuver only repeated in another village by Utakata from Kiri. But in Kumo we find two jinchuuriki who have mastered their biju, are well respected by their peers and fellow citizens, and are basically treated like any other really weirdo ninja from the village barring needing to be monitored with bodyguards in B's case, which is mostly because he keeps running away to go train under rap artists so you can understand why A is ready to go frothing at the mouth feral at his brother sometimes.

All I'm saying is that if even the village's "monsters" are treated that way, why does everyone stick with the fanon that they're a breeding, bloodline stealing hellhole?

Imo it would be WAY more fun to world build Kumo as the feral mountain ninja-mandalorians of the Elemental Nations, who have a reputation for bloodline theft because they keep finding Actual Strays, Refugees from other villages, and Illegitimate bloodline children and going: YO ANYONE GONNA ADOPT THIS? and not waiting for an answer. Your a missing ninja from Kiri and you're fed up with both them and missing-nin life and want to come work for us? Great. Oh you also have a valuable kekkei genkai that can be inherited? Awesome have you heard of our red light district and child support program or better yet our tax deductible program for marrying one of our lovely civilians and raising a family here where no bloodline purges will ever happen ever. Oh you're a stray Uzumaki on the run from bloodline hunters? Well we may have been involved in destroying Uzushio (depends on your fan interpretation since canonically we do not know which villages did that other than Not Konoha) but we also have hot food, good housing, high ninja standards of living, and free weekly entertainment in betting when our Raikage is going to launch his desk at his brother like a high speed missile because B's rapping got too cringy.

Let Hinata's and Kushina's kidnapping either be the exception to their usual playbook of how they acquire bloodlines (hey it's not their fault if the other villages can't keep it in their pants/can't inspire loyalty) OR have it be seen, culturally in Kumo, as something more akin to a rescue mission. Yes these two girls are useful and have useful bloodlines, that's tactically wise, but also have you SEEN how Konoha treats their jinchuuriki? They have seal master princess and are treating her like a dog on a leash! And literally everyone knows what the Hyuuga do to their own kids if they aren't main branch, and we can't rescue any of those kids without their eyeballs exploding and them dying but hey we can snag the heiress and then any kids she has won't have to be branded so-.

Like I feel that would be so much more INTERESTING? Instead of having Konoha be the only "nice" village and make this weird tonal dissonance for how the "nice" village has the most incompetent leadership (Sarutobi) and underground atrocities (Danzo and Orochimaru) while every other village is Horrible All The Time For Everyone why not have Kumo be actually Really Functional and treat their shinobi and Jinchuuriki well and their horrible reputation is *mostly* (not entirely, because. Ninja.) be cultural clashes between the feral mountain ninja and Everyone Else and propaganda from the other villages who would like their shinobi to STOP DEFECTING TO KUMO PLEASE. WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY HAVE DENTAL.

Seriously I feel like there is so much more you could do with that angle than just "yet another shinobi village that is Bad and Awful and Needs The Power of Friendship yet somehow has this really stupid goofy jinchuuriki man who loves his brother and his village shut up don't think about it".

#Secret Engima Rambles #naruto #naruto worldbuilding #ninja economics #naruto economics #kumo #naruto kumo #long post

241 notes · View notes

beware-of-pity · 26 days ago

Text

Sins of the father(s) IV

Masterlist

Previous chapter - Next

Bruce Wayne (Battinson) x Reader

Crossposted on Ao3

Summary:

Bruce has never been good with feelings, but to see you in the arms of another makes his blood boil. Hot and tempered, the revelation of a certain someone's death cools it.

Chapter IV: Sorry, I don't want your touch (It's not that I don't want you)

Bruce felt guilty, as he often did. He carried the guilt of not being able to save his parents on that night in that dark alley, of being the sole survivor. People who knew him, close ones, like Alfred, Dory and you, knew that despite having his life spared, Bruce had not exactly survived that fate twilight. A changed man, he had come out of that crime scene, the ghost of a boy everyone knew he would never be again.

So much anger and guilt he internalised over his own existence that he can only let out when he fights the criminals he sees the face of the man who pointed that gun at him and his parents' faces.

But this, this was a new kind of guilt. Knowing that he had disappointed you, angered you because of the pain he was causing you, created a sting in his chest that he thought he would never feel.

He wanted, he truly did, to try to reach out during these past few days. When he had heard that you would host a luncheon with the members of the charity you managed in your father’s memory, he had wanted to go. Support you, be there for you, but to his dismay, he had to, of course, get hurt the night before on his patrol, ending with his entire torso bandaged and bedridden for two days. Alfred’s orders. He had wanted to send something, flowers, perhaps attached with a note filled with encouraging words, but in the limbo between sleep, which he had the opportunity to catch up on after so long, and those few moments he was awake, he had totally forgotten to ask Alfred to run this commission for him.

He wanted to beat himself up, his hands on the steering wheel of the Batmobile tightening around the leather as he gritted his teeth.

Idiot, what an absolute idiot he was. Could he ever do something right? In his entire life, was there something he was good at other than beating up criminals when blinded by his rage?

Cohesive arguments evaded him, his lack of emotional regulation truly getting to him. He prided himself on the idea that he had been able to control his emotions. But, there was something about you, something that drove him to believe he had not grown at all from when he was a young boy.

It’s like he returned to the boy he used to be, emotional and driven by his thoughts in all the wrong ways. Memories of a time he would rather forget in order to forge this new path forced him back right at the beginning. He could only imagine how hurt and angry you would truly be if you found out in just how much danger he was truly putting himself up to every night. What he could imagine, was the true disappointment you would then face him with. With other people, he could do as he pleased, be everything he wanted to be when you were not around, hiding behind someone he was not, but with you?

With you, he felt a sense of vulnerability; he could confide in you, and you would listen, try to comfort him, help him, and reassure him with sweet, shooting sweet nothings. You were like a rock, a pillar that he felt the need to rest upon, and it pained him just as much as it did you to push you away to keep you safe. The fear he felt at the thought of losing you to his foolishness was one he only felt once when he had lost his parents.

Women, he hated to admit, were kind of a mystery for him. He wasn’t well-versed in the art of love or such. The only time he thought himself somewhat in love was with a thrill-chasing street racer named Dorothy, better called Dex, which he had befriended during one of his summers back home from the boarding school you two attended. If he considered himself reckless now, he must have been a wild animal at seventeen when he would sneak out of the Wayne Tower with the first prototype of the bat mobile, racing strangers in the middle of the night, getting stopped by the cops as they pried upon young and reckless teenagers by hiding on a side road or in an alley, waiting for late-night joyriders breaking the speed limit….like him.

It was the first time he had come in such serious and close contact with a woman his age who wasn’t you.

Dex felt like a new adventure he was embarking on, especially during a time when he had begun to question himself about what he truly wanted in life, growing restless about his own reclusive behaviour. She was like a breath of fresh air, exactly like those fast and rushing drives he took about town. A summer he would remember well, even years down the line. A summer that he spent being the wild young man men his age would be, while you went on a leisure vacation about the Amalfi Coast with some other classmates you shared in common.

Dex was everything you were not, and you were everything Dex wasn’t, but he couldn’t lie and say he had not often tried to find you in Dex.

She was wild and reckless, just like he had been, and yet he tried at times to find your strictness and rationality in her. Dex brought out in him the thrill he had been seeking, the one he supposed every seventeen-year-old boy sought in the opposite sex, but his mind told him when to stop and not venture into those bad situations Dex eventually found herself, his mind doing so because you were not there to do so.

He spent his days on the phone with you, which were your nights because of the time difference, and his nights with Dex and their escapades with the group of people, mostly Dex’s friends, planned out for the night.

When you returned in September, practically glowing from the days spent under the warm sun of the Italian coast and asked about how he had spent his summer, he didn’t tell you about Dex or his newfound addiction to racing. Of course, minus those details, you told him he would have had more fun if he had just come with you all, to which he said he would next time….which he didn’t, but he had come to the Christmas party that was thrown that winter to compensate for knowing he would have to decline your offer again when you would later ask. Had it not been for you, he would have spent the entirety of it all standing awkwardly in an abandoned corner of the room.

He had felt foolish, embarrassed, with cheeks flushing a deep crimson, as you danced with him, a red Santa hat on his head, and you dressed as one of Santa’s helpers, just….a slightly more provocative helper. He averted the sight before him many times that night, usually by craning his head to the side or letting his eyes fall anywhere but your more than revealing cleavage…which he hated to admit he had thought about too many times the following days. Could he be blamed? He was a teenager engulfed in the flesh of youth. It wasn’t his fault you were practically all over him, and the fact that he had to carry you back to your room when you had gotten tipsy, complaining that your feet hurt because of the heels you wore, had not helped. He remembered the feel of your soft and warm skin against his shirt all too well, your soft snores that fanned his face as you slept the night away as he carried you, only after he had taken those darn heels off your feet. The Polaroid, taken by a girl he didn’t know, but he supposed you did, commemorated the night with its overall existence, immortalising the night into living memorabilia, instead of just his memory.

He thought he liked Dex, she made him feel speechless in her presence, like he didn’t know what to say, all his thoughts just vanishing, but you….everything he thought he felt for Dex just went with the wind when he first set his eyes on you again after so long.

He did not need this. He didn’t need old wounds and resurfacing emotions that would not help his vigilante work to resurface in the cold and passive man he had turned himself into.

Perhaps Vengeance didn’t….but as for Bruce, well….Bruce was another story.

Women liked him, and he liked them too, but over his early twenties, he never stayed too long to not form any attachments. The only constant one in his life had become you…

He didn’t want to admit it, but a part of him yearned for the comfort of your gentleness, which contrasted his cold and unwavering vigilante persona. It brought out in him a vulnerability he didn’t know he still possessed, one he hated feeling. He couldn’t allow himself any weakness, and you….you made him weak. He couldn’t afford to be weak, not when the worst time of the year was now upon him. In two days, it would be Halloween, and even though the news had predicted heavy rain, Bruce knew that a few drops of water would not stop the criminals from acting out or the streets from not being filled with people celebrating.

The nature of the city could not be stopped by anything, especially rain, which was why he needed to be out there, to fight against it and keep the innocent citizens wanting to only celebrate a fun and jolly holiday from getting in between the criminals’ plans and their own.

He had thought about how to approach a possible reconciliation throughout the day after, though his mind shut everything down when he saw you on the TV beside Reál as you two walked out of the studio where the last debate between her and Mitchell had taken place in light of next week’s elections.

You smiled and waved at the cameras, who clamoured around you two to ask questions, to vulture deeper into the future that awaited this newfound coalition between the possible new Mayor of Gotham and the newest member of the City Council. Eloquently answering the questions as you went, you were able to evade them until you arrived at the car awaiting you before speeding off.

He had gone on his nightly patrol that night with an unusual sense of irrationality to him.

Robbery, theft, and assault were commonplace in the dark alleys of Gotham, yet that night, Bruce almost looked like he was seeking those things he hated most.

The next morning, the haze of the night had faded, but not the emotions he had carried from it. Tonight, more than ever, he needed ultimate concentration, and yet he almost found himself unable to do so. Frustrated by this, he spent most of the afternoon preparing for his patrol. Training, putting all he felt in the punches he delivered to the punching bag hanging in the Batcave. He had reduced his knuckles raw, almost frail to draw blood if he wanted, which he had to cover with bandages so as to not feel the discomfort of the sensitive skin rubbing against the leather of the gloves of his suit.

When he dipped his fingers in the black makeup he used to fill in the gaps that his mask could not, the coolness of the paste soothed his irritated skin, even as it stained him. As per routine, he went out first in incognito among the crowd dressed as the ‘Drifter’. The old, baggy and well-worn second-hand clothes he had thrifted came in hand when he wanted to blend among crowds, asserting the night, eyeing and studying his possible opponents. The clothes also hid the first layers of the bat suit he wore, the second layers, cape and mask, hiding in the backpack he carried on his back. He swerved the streets with his old bike, he obviously couldn’t go out and about with the Batmobile if he didn’t want to be recognised. He only ever took the car out when he truly needed it, for big cases, which had yet to come and had given him much time to work on it and its potency.

He had just turned one of the streets near Wayne Tower, speeding through the traffic, wanting to get out of the rich and industrial neighbour to head towards Dowton Island, the part of Gotham where criminals ran rampant since it included places like the Iceberg Lounge, under the watchful eyes of the Penguin and his associates, when he approached a sidewalk littered with cars and people hanging around the door of one those central stylised townhouses, surely a get together for the holiday.

He stopped on the side, watching the scene unfold before him, hiding behind a car on the opposite side of the road where the people were making their way inside the house. Fancy dresses, well-pressed suits, gelled and combed hair, shimmering jewels, polished shoes, masks of all kinds. Animals, doll-like ones, some painted and patterned like that Venetian carnival one you once brought him back to your trip there —it all screamed opulence.

Or shamelessness thought Bruce. They care not but for themselves, selfish people who have too much money to their name that they can count on or know what to do with. He watched from behind his full-face visor as another car came through the corner to stop just in front of the steps of the house. A man nearby brightened up at the sight and rushed towards the door of the vintage vehicle to help whoever was inside out of it. A feminine, manicured and well-cared-for hand, adorned by rings and bracelets, reaches out to grab into the one the man has just offered, closing its fingers around it.

Bruce’s eyes track the woman who steps out of the car; her back turned to him, but even with the fancy dress and all, he could still recognise you from anywhere.

Just like the others, it seems like you, too, had taken to dressing to what appeared to be the theme for this party. A black, trimmed, velvet dress, covered with a medieval cape, adorned with a shining, feathered, high collar. The mask, feathered and well-adorned, hid a good part of your face and gave away the animal you were dressed as. A raven, he supposed you fit the part, looking sumptuous and imperial like the bird, the train of your dress, feathered like the bird's tail, created a perfect illusion as you walked. In your gothic costume, you fit right into the art deco modernized stylization of the city. He wondered if the dress was part of some high-brand old collection, perhaps from the 1920s, they had lent you for the occasion.

Like a doll, he mused, unconsciously, a sense of admiration in his thought

You always had an affinity for such social events, despite how you often complain about how many you were invited to. You were the social butterfly, even when you too were younger, the one frequently pulling him alongside you to wherever you went and looking at you, all dolled up. It’s not that you enjoyed being around people, but you had been conditioned since an early age into understanding that being part of an inner circle befitting your station would do you more good than bad. Your mother was a known socialite back in her younger days,just as his mother had been to a degree, and your father took more good from it than anyone expected, especially during his political campaigns.

Your mother had been a much-needed asset in gaining much of his popularity, reaching places of interest for your father’s cause, which, despite his intellect, he found himself a stranger to. She rouped people with her charms and wit, endearing them to her friendliness, especially other politicians and regimental wives. It seemed that for you, the apple had not fallen far from the tree. You implemented the best traits of both your parents on occasions like these, but even Bruce knew that you possessed both of their bad ones, too, just like he did. He sometimes asked himself where he got his temper, not remembering either of his parents’ possessing one themselves. Or maybe he had just been too young to take notice.

As if sensing being looked at, you turned to look in the direction you felt those eyes glaring holes at the back of your head, unknowingly meeting his, hidden away by the visor of his helmet.

He watched your brows furrow in confusion at who he could possibly be and for a man of his appearance to hang around such a neighbourhood when he did not seem to belong in it. Unknowingly to him, Bruce’s grip on the grips rubber of his bike’s handlebars. Your eyes narrow, slating as if to get a better look at him, for the stranger he presented himself as, to understand if you knew him, almost intrusively analysing him with your eyes as if you could look beyond and under his disguise. But before you could do more than that, the hand of the man who had helped you out of your vehicle, slithering on the small of your back, startled you out of your contemplative state.

Good, old Johnny, your date for tonight. Your friendship went back to your days in boarding school, and though for you he was just a friend, you always knew he wanted something more from you. He wasn’t exactly subtle in that regard, with his long glances and touchy hands. Too touchy and intrusive for your tastes. Bruce had noticed too how you didn’t seem all that reciprocant to his touch, the skin under your dress almost flinching out of reflex from the contact of his hand.

Your attention turned back to Johhny, leaving Bruce, not that you knew it was him, behind your forgotten thoughts. You had a dinner to attend, after all.

You smile politely to Johnny, who, in turn, beams down at you as you two begin to walk to the door of the house, his hand almost leading you there.

The display before him left Bruce completely blank, his insides churning, a burning ache filling his chest. When had he begun to wish to be the one at your side, the one whose hand was the one guiding you around as it rested around your waist? Was this mere jealousy? And, even so, he was confused about what he was jealous of. Was it just his protectiveness? He had often taken a sort of watchful eye over you; maybe it was his worry pulling at him to shove Johnny out of the way like he used to when they were young boys. He did know the man, after all, as he often drolled over you and trailed like a lost puppy whenever you two went, back in the days. Johnny knew very well to keep his act when Bruce was around, relegating to watching from afar rather than approaching. Perhaps it was an understanding between men; they did seem to understand each other better than others after all, but Johnny had come to understand very well what Bruce’s eyes were implying most times. His dislike, his distaste, his lack of composure and demeanour were truly frightening in his eyes. Which was why he did not want you anywhere near him, wanting to protect you from men like Johnny as much as he could.

And now, busier than ever before, with his mind and thoughts divided between his personal and private life, it seemed that Johnny thought that with his noticeable absence, he could finally rise to the challenge.

Craven vermin.

Not being able to bear the sight any longer and what it fueled in him, Bruce lifts his feet off the ground and speeds off in the night. Going to dispel his emotions in the only way he knew.

Beating criminals.

He had found his perfect scapegoat in a gang that had seemed to round a lone stranger who had gotten off on the deserted platform of the train station. Eight skull-faced gang members against a defenceless man, and for what? The thrill of the chase? The want of fear in their opponent? Or was it because he had been an easy target? After all, how could one defend himself against eight men, clearly stronger than him in physics?

He had stopped them just before they could have caused more than necessary damage, for it seemed that whatever they were doing was a sort of initiation ritual for the newest and youngest entry of their group, who, in all fairness, did not seem too thrilled to be there or be part of what was going down, as he fled the scene after he had put the other seven down.

His movements had been fast and brutal, leaving no room for counterattacks or opposition from his opponents. He had snapped the arm of one, who presented himself as the leader of this organised fiasco and tased the neck of another, a scene he would revisit once he returned to the cave and pulled his recording contact lenses out of his eyes. The scene, he was sure, would be haunting as he watched the man fall and convulse on the ground. He had taken hits, too, but through his rage, he had bounced back every time. His terrifying skill kept the impacts of them from landing as if almost on auto-pilot, he proceeded to break off the others surrounding him like a machine.

Only when the station fell into the silence of the night once more, broken only by the gentle pitter patter of the rain, had his eye noticed the reflection on the wet ground. The bat signal, shining bright, in the sky.

Bruce looked up, wondering just how long it's been there, having lost all composure and awareness of his surroundings.

He could truly get in a rage when he wanted, couldn’t he? He just didn’t want to admit what it was that caused it.

He had met with Gordon, in the abandoned and unfinished skyscraper they utilised as their secret hideout, where he had been told the unimaginable.

Mitchell was dead.

He had been let in in the study where the body was found only because Gordon had made it so after he faced opposition from Officer Martinez. Were it for the line of cops filling the hall of the now gone Mayor’s manor, he surely would not have gotten that far within the first step of his boots near the property.

It had been a gruesome sight. Mitchell’s head was wrapped in grey duct tape, with red, angry letters spelling out ‘NO MORE LIES’. The sight entirely reminded him of what you had told him in your last conversation about them. His head had been mashed, but most of the blood he had lost had come from his severed thumb, cut when he was still alive, seeing the ecchymosis that had formed around the wound. Whoever the Killer was, they had made quite the showcase in sending the message they wanted.

Corruption and lies, corruption that had yet to be revealed as to what kind. No one believed Mitchell to be an innocent man, after all, no one had such a rise to power ethically and conventionally. There was something about Mitchell that both you and Bruce had suspected not to be genuine. It always rubbed you the wrong way how he had seemingly just been able to take over the city in such an easy way after your father was killed. Perhaps it was the bitterness in you, not yet over how your father could just be replaced by such an incompetent man, which you were right about, seeing as to how he had driven Gotham into becoming a cesspool in less than twenty years and three mandates as Mayor of the city. Bruce did often wonder just why he kept on being elected, again, and again, and again.

But to be deserving of such death? It made Bruce wonder as to what the killer was aware of that others were not.

Perhaps, he’ll get to find out soon.

AN: Finally entering the film's territory. We'll be following the events of the movie from now on, just prolonging them slightly to tell more of the story, but the storyline will remain the same. A week of pure chaos to write, yeppi. Also, I recently read the novella called 'Before the Batman: An Original Movie Novel' which is kind of supposed to be a companion prequel novel to the movie. It is not canon, Matt Reeves has not written or said that what's written in the story is canon to his universe, and even though, I, myself did not find it to be a particularly compelling read, I wanted to incorporate certain aspects I liked about it in this story. If you're not familiar with the events of the novel, the Batman Wiki has pages for every character and event in it, so be sure to check it out if you want to know more about what I talk about in the first half of the chapter.

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #battinson x reader #battinson fanfic #battinson #the batman! bruce wayne x reader #the batman 2022 #the batman x reader #batman 2022 #pattinson!batman #reevesverse #dc x reader #dc fanfic #sunny writes𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 #x reader #fanfic writing #fanfic #dcu

18 notes · View notes

orisquirrelking · 11 months ago

Note

Loved the Dude kissing headcanons, I was twirling my hair the entire time and kicking my feet🤭

What's the ideal date for each Dude?

Ideal Dates for each Dude!

Congrats everybody btw. movie dude is now part of the full roster!

——————————-

P1/Redux

You’d think that he would prefer to stay inside all of the time, but you’d be incorrect. P1 is a big fan of what he likes to call “Real Nature,” where it’s just you, him, and the elements. He prefers the quiet compared to the bustling of the city, it helps him focus. He’ll bring a picnic set with a mat, utensils, the whole shebang! He isn’t the best cook but he’ll throw together a few cold-cut sandwiches for the two of you to snack on while he talks to you about everything and nothing, just content that you’re there and listening.

——————————-

Oh, he has NOT dated since his (ex) wife. Not much for fanciness, though if that’s what you’re into he’ll begrudgingly take a shower and throw on some (stolen) nicer clothes. P2 will probably take you somewhere he himself enjoys. It’s his way of saying “I give a shit!” P2 loves it most when you just kind of.. exist with him. Walking champ? Washing the dishes? Autism be damned, he’s working the grill? Dude just wants you near him, even if that means binging shitty reruns in his trailer.

——————————-

Dates? He’s got them planned down to a T. Doesn’t mean they’re going to be the greatest, but it does mean that he’s daydreaming about places he can take you. He’s generally very aloof about dates, often just showing up at your door, gesturing to his shitty car. P3 loves taking you to new places the most, genuinely enjoying the surprised and delighted expressions on your face as he pulls up to weirder and wilder places. He just really likes spoiling you, and if he can, he will.

——————————-

P4’s ideal date is going to your place and taking a nap. I'm serious! P4 is big on touching, and whatever gets him closer to you is ideal to him. He loves planning movie dates with you at home, where the two of you put on a shitty comedy and lay on the couch together, his head in your lap. He just wants you to play with his hair as he narrates everything he hates about grown ups, or how he hates the uncanniness of old cg animation. He just likes being inside and cozy sometimes.

——————————-

BD/Alt Dude

These two cannot agree on a proper date for you for the LIFE (lives?) of them. BD’s ideal date doesn’t include the other dude, and vice versa. And yet, somehow, they make it work. Ish. Well, not really. Their ideal dates that don’t involve each other respectively are a night out at a club (Alt) and dinner and a movie (BD.) They begrudgingly compromise whenever you (Semi) jokingly threaten to leave and go home, and the three of you settle for cooking together. They wouldn’t admit it, but they like this much better than going out.

——————————-

Movie Dude

Oh this man is an absolute SAP. bar the “I blew up Paradise” incident, he’s an absolute sweetheart. He loves diner dates, where the two of you can pop into the same almost run-down hole in the wall diner and everybody automatically knows your order. He’s going to be corny with the way he asks you to go out though, no simple texts or phone calls for you. Many times you’ve awoken from a midday nap to your phone ringing, the voice message simply saying “look outside!” and a very enthusiastic dude holding some slightly wilted flowers, throwing small rocks at your windows.

——————————-

#oris writes #postal dude x reader

124 notes · View notes

chycoin · 11 months ago

Text

HUGE SPOILER AHEAD!!!

Watch “TRASH FRIENDS” before reading. If you haven’t watched it and still read this, pls don’t say I didn’t warn you 🫠👍

Just watched “TRASH FRIENDS” and the thumbnail really made me think this was going to be an episode focusing on the way Mario has been treated by Smg4 and his friends (at least that’s how I see it) but I wasn’t expecting an episode about Smg3’s insecurities and fears (mostly insecurities)

I really was caught lacking because I was expecting something and I got the opposite lmao. I should be familiar with this guy’s content already and know that the only thing expected from these episodes is the unexpected xD, but anyways back to talking about the video.

In previous episodes we see that he gets a little bit of customers such as in the episode “You used to be cool” and “CEO OF RIZZ” but in this last mentioned episode he tries to advertise his café after Boopkins’s date works out in the end and so does the same in “SMG4’s NEWS.”

At first you think “Maybe he wants more than what he has” but after watching this episode you realize he’s actually struggling with his business and last weeks episode you change your view from his actions and see him as more desperate rather than greedy after watching this latest ep.

Constantly trying to get more people into his café and taking every single chance he can see to advertise no matter the place or time, like life depends on it.

And talking about chances ._.xD

(This goober losing the video to a basketball, I’m dead😭)

Smg4 comes to this guy’s café for his help to get his “Michael Jordan Endorsement Video” back because boi lost it and he wants Smg3’s help because their “FRIENDS”

Of course Smg3 saw this as a chance to advertise his café because HOLY SHIT MICHAEL JORDAD!!! A famous basketball player that anyone would want to have the chance to meet and that’s a chance that Smg3 is willing to take because it means his business would BLOW UP *someone throws them a chair*

Btw when Mario shows up to offer his help, I expected Smg4 to be more happy that he has his avatar buddy always trying to help him but instead…

Don’t get me wrong, I know they got a little weirded out about the fact that Mario is a regular around the Junkyard due to him eating at that location but still, that dialogue still sort of hurt me man qwp

But anyways back to my review of this episode and giving my acoustic povs that nobody asked for.

They arrive at the junkyard and after being there for 5 seconds, they find the legendary pokemon that goes by the name of “Michael Jordan Endorsement Video” (sorry for my weak ass jokes, I just woke up and my humor is a little broken rn)

After having the video on sight, Mario pulls a Yoshi and beats the crap out of the spaghetti plate where the video so happened to land on, in one go. Obviously, causing the other two to try and force the USB out of him but both failed as Mario did a BLJ through the trash and forcing 3 & 4 to dig through everything to find him.

Now… the part I was dying to talk about and hopefully I can let out my thoughts the proper way.

As the two spend an entire evening just digging through trash, they start a friendly conversation until Smg4 touches the Smg3’s CnB topic which causes Smg3 to get nervous and lie about everything being fine because he has something that every human being has unfortunately, ✨I N S E C U R I T I E S✨.

Which I understand because bruh, 3’s been seen as a bad copy of 4 who’s the total opposite of him for a good piece of his life, if not his ENTIRE existence and now that’s he’s going through a change in his life for the better, he’s going to face a lot of these insecurity episodes because he’s so used to being seen as the bad guy, the bad copy, The Villain. Always people seeing what 4 does and never looking what 3 does which got him into that dark path.

Is like the Sun and the Moon kind of thing. The Sun (Smg4) can shine the brightest while the moon (Smg3) is just a floating rock shining the least. I’ll bring this up again at the end of the review.

But yeah, Smg3 has insecurities and is more shown when they reach the entrance of Mario’s hiding spot.

-Part 2 🫠👍-

#smg4 #smg4 review #smg3 #smg4 smg3 #I wasn’t planning for this to be a 2 part thing

59 notes · View notes

thatwritterbeach · 5 months ago

Text

So About That Alley .2

Jason Todd x fmc Alex

DC masterlist ALL OTHER PARTS FOUND HERE

Unedited***Also I swear Tumblr is messing up my spelling on purpose cuz everytime I re-read something I know I fixed it's wrong again

Alex: short, curvy, red hair, green eyes, redheads go through pain meds way faster than normal people to the point I personally don't even take them, it's a joke, they last 30 min at best

Summary: Alex finds out her bf is red hood, after she spills some not so great secrets to the masked man while stitching him up.

Warnings: Vaginismus* angst, sexual assault, self-harm, depression, drug use by Alex, violence, cursing, NSFW, smut, thigh riding, vaginal fingering, guided masturbation?, p in v (not overly described), pain during s*x, hiding said pain, hickeys?, self-hate, insecurities, eating disorder, weight loss

A/N: I do not own dc boohoo

Part One

not my gif, I also love that when you search Jason Todd gifs Jensen Ackles is like half of them cuz he voiced him one time.

Fuck everything still hurt she thought miserably as she rocked her hips against his thigh. The pain was a dull ache but she knew from experience she needed to wait longer for the drugs to kick in before she could even think about anything going inside her.

"So pretty, princess," Jason mumbled into her throat while he placed nips and kissed on the exposed skin. She was too busy focusing on her breathing to utter a reply but he didn't expect one.

After several minutes the pain started to fade away to pleasure and she was able to pick up the pace but it wasn't getting her where she needed to go before the drugs wore off. She stilled her movements and grabbed his hand to slide his fingers into her panties she directed them to her clit and made soft slow circles, as if he needed instructions. But he made no move to shake her off or tell her he knew what he was doing, if she wanted to guide his hands the rest of the night he was happy to oblige.

"So wet for me," he cooed into her ear sinking a digit into her heat.

"More," she begged in a sultry voice. Of course, that was the opposite of what she wanted but the clock was ticking on those meds.

"What do you want, pretty?"

"Need you inside me," she pleaded, rocking her hips softly against his finger. Fuck that hurts. When he removed his hands so she could move she was quick to crawl onto the bed on all fours, then slid her panties to her knees leaving her shirt on. This way he can't see my face as I flinch in pain. Yeah, 'cause that's a normal thought, that normal people have. Unaware of her inner turmoil he groaned at the sight and stripped his clothes in record time.

"My tubes are tied," she said into the bedding.

"What?"

"My tubes are tied, remember, I can't get pregnant, so if your clean..."She trailed off awkwardly.

"I'm clean."

He spent a little time stretching her some more with his fingers but all the stretching in the world wouldn't help her without pain pills, and strong ones so when he finally slid into her she sucked in a pained breath and a single tear sped out before she could help it. And this is why she was face down, ass up, and not facing him.

"Shit you're tight, you gotta relax baby, don't wanna hurt you," he soothed, un-moving behind her while he ran his hands over her hips, totally not searching for scars. He felt what had to be stretch marks under his fingers since there wasn't any discoloration to them. Of course, he forgot makeup existed and she had loads of it piled on her entire body. He was also feeling up the wrong spots for fresh ones.

"I'm good," she managed to say in a needy whine, though it wasn't need for him to move, more get the fuck out and never touch her again. He leaned over to kiss her shoulder and she began to wonder how much longer she had and if he was ever gonna get with the program but when he slid out and back in slower than she knew possible she wished she hadn't thought of this stupid plan to begin with. It felt like she was, well, it's hard to describe if you've never felt it but it's a sharp but wide spread ache (even that's too soft a word, ache is an annoyance this is straight pain) that could be felt to her lungs, which were getting harder to move by the second. Blessedly she could tell he was speeding towards his release so she worked up the courage to fake her own, knowing he would 'hold off for her'. When he slid out she collapsed to the bed sure to grab him and take him down with her so he wouldn't get a chance to see what was probably blood on the both of them mixed with other things. He 'hmmphd' when he made contact with her back quick to move off of her but she insured he stayed on his stomach fingers crossed it was only a little and would come of on her black blanket, eww I know. With him boneless next to her she was able to escape to the bathroom without conflict and thanked all the gods her shirt was long and dark colored. It took half a minute to rinse her self off trying to be quick and get back out there before he got suspicious. She soaked a washcloth is warm water and carried it out with her to clean him up, much to his weak protests, he didn't even open his eyes.

"Sorry, did my cleaning interrupt your post-nut clarity," she teased slipping her panties back on and tossing the rag away.

"How can you move so fast?"

"Guess I have better stamina, maybe I should be out fighting crime," she tisked at him laying down on her stomach beside him again.

"No fair, I demand a rematch, I was just so overwhelmed by your beauty I couldn't hold back any longer, now that the initial surprise is out of the way, I will rock your world till you can't walk," he promised, though it felt empty with his closed eyes and heavy breathing. She patted him on the chest in a 'sure, sure' manner and waited impatiently for him to get up and back to their breakfast. The drugs had fully worn off and the ache between her legs was enough to make a grown man cry but she kept a soft smile on her face. the acting skills a woman used to hellish periods.

_____line break, brought to you by the bat-mobile______

And so it began, she unintentionally let open the flood gates to the point she knows had to start and end her day with a hit. Jason was like a damn rabbit now that she had tapped his ass once. She was having to get up early, shoot up, and sneak back into bed feigning a bathroom stop before they got frisky, every damn morning. Then when she got home from work, if he was there. And again before/after he dealt with patrol. He was insatiable and on week three she was out of morphine and so sore she could barley sit down. She'd lost a good ten pounds, unable to eat. Her mind telling her the only reason Jay was still with her was for sex. Which was ridiculous since they hadn't started until 4ish months into the relationship, a record for him she was sure. Having to fake a headache to get out of activities tonight she was mentally shoving him out the window to patrol. She needed to meet her supplier. It had started out her using it for migraines, those of you that get them know sometimes death is favorable so it was the only thing she found that even touched them. Finally, finally he slipped out and uttered a quick I love you which she returned. She waited about 20 minutes to be sure he was far enough away before taking the door and stairs like a civilized person. A wad of cash tucked in her bra, and her Glock in its rib holster.

_______

"Sugar, I've missed ya," a skeevy voice said from the alley she'd just stepped into.

"I've missed your product," she replied easily. He was a pig, but he was a greedy pig and as long as she paid he didn't come within a yard of her.

"Always the sweet talker."

"Hard not to be in such amazing company." With a chain-smoker chuckle he tossed her a box, and she caught it with ease, not even bothering to check it's contents before she passed him a pre-counted stack. The transaction complete she gave him a thank you nod and turned to leave when a shadow landed in front of her. And fuck it was batman.

"Hey, batsy, I got this one," she said with false confidence but held her ground blocking his path to her favorite supplier.

"Who are you?"

"A friend of Dickie's and like I said I got this one," she said again, nodding to the man behind her.

"Dickie's," he asked in the same tone he does everything.

"Our boy in blue," she said with a smile. Please take a hint and fuck off old man.

"Go," he commanded the dealer who didn't need to be told twice, taking off at a run far away from them.

"How do you know him?"

"Relax, BW, I'm just doing my part to clean the streets for the youth of out future," she all but gagged at the line. He grabbed her arm and yanked her off her feet dangling her in the air before him with a deep scowl. Saved by the bell a shrill scream cut through the night and he dropped her like a sack of potatoes to head towards the sound.

"I'm fine, thanks for asking," she yelled after his retreating form. a bruise blooming on her ankle.

See masterlist for more

8-7-24

28 notes · View notes

kyndredravenstories · 4 months ago

Text

Eyes of Infinity: Delirium Chapter 11

Hello, I have been posting my work on AO3 and recently decided to venture here to Tumblr. Please note: This story is 18+. No minors. Please read tags carefully. Link to AO3 below but I will also be posting the chapters here.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53564641/chapters/149422321

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

Content Warning (For the entire fic): Explicit sexual content, spoilers and alterations to existing lore and cards/memories/tender moments/secret times, size kink, size difference, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, anal sex, fingering, all kinds of fingering, elements of consensual somno, dom!Sylus, jealousy, possessive!Sylus, Mephisto stalking, typical game violence, battle and combat, PTSD

Summary: To love him meant stepping over the threshold and crossing into darkness. To be with him meant accepting the lure of the shadows. And to protect him from betrayal meant sacrifice. I knew not how, only that I would not let time sever our paths ever again.

Previous Chapters: Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3 / Ch 4 / Ch 5 / Ch 6 / Ch 7 / Ch 8 / Ch 9 / Ch 10

I am a Hunter, and I'm straight as an arrow. But, even I break the rules at times. I had certainly saved plenty of people in Linkon in my time fighting Wanderers, so it's no surprise that I have quite a few individuals that 'owe me one'. As I prepare for meeting Malakai, I remember a certain shop keep that operates a semi-illegal arms pawn and trade shop known as the "Crate" in the Auric Sector. My guns might not be enough to give me an edge against Malakai, so I decide to pay the "Crate" a visit.

A few stops on the bullet train takes me there in less than thirty minutes. When I walk in, his son gives me a glare that could melt rock. I hold my head high, unfazed. I'm used to confrontations like this. Though most people are usually glad to see Hunters about, not all citizens are happy to have us interfere in their business. As though nothing is amiss, I walk up to the counter and lean against it. Around me, the walls and displays are lined with all kinds of weapons and ammo. Guns, blasters, spears, wands, and even swords. Some are innovative models, others are off-brand Hunter copies.

"Fireborne," the man across from me sneers. He's short with sideburns that are too long and greasy hair that could have used a wash last month. "Thought you were on suspension."

I give him a winning smile. "Maybe I should tag a couple of fines to your books this month and see if they'll end my medical leave early as a reward." We stare each other down until he reaches for a gun that's strapped to his hip. I keep my cool. Even an idiot like this wouldn't dare to attack a Hunter out in broad daylight.

"Get away from her, Gary," an old grizzled voice shouts from the back room. A wrinkled man with tanned skin and a head of white hair limps out, leaning heavily on a long black cane.

"Alren," I nod respectfully.

"Ellara, what brings you to my neck of the armory?" the store owner asks. As he approaches, his son, Gary, slinks away. Alren's eyes fall on Mephisto who's calmly perched on my shoulder. "And what's with the bird?"

"New pet I picked up," I explain, ignoring Mephisto's frustrated grunt. I point to the display case I'm leaning on. "Listen, I'm going to a meet up tonight and things are probably going to get hairy. I need something small but potent. Something I could hide in a skirt."

Alren gives me a one over and crosses his arms over his chest. "You're on suspension, so I assume you can't pay for this trinket you're needing?"

"Right as usual," I nod sheepishly.

"I do owe you my life, Ell." He lets out a long sigh and scratches the back of his head. "Let me see what I can do."

He takes me through several display cases and shows me quite a few different gadgets on his walls. None of them really strike me as what I would need. After nearly an hour, we make it to one of the front-most display cases. The 'real expensive stuff' as Alren puts it.

"Grenades?" I frown. "The place I'm going to is public. I don't want collateral damage."

Alren pulls out a box about five inches in width. He pops open the lid to reveal a thin narrow cylindrical object. It's silvery. Curious, I reach for it, but Alren gives me a warning glare.

"See that ridge at the top? That's the pin. Pop it off with your nail and you'll make us both deaf."

"A stun grenade?"

Alren nods. "But localized. Smaller. More temporary effects. Good for sticky situations and undetectable to scanners."

I'm instantly in love. "How much?"

"Too much for a Hunter salary," he chortles. With another sigh, he pats my back. "It's on the house. After this consider us even."

It doesn't fit in my skirt, but I do manage to hide it inside the inner pocket of my chest piece. After leaving the "Crate", I make my way back to the Destiny Café. Unfortunately, my trip there doesn't yield anything useful. As expected, there is no information on any reservations for private rooms at 9 PM tonight. I end up touring a few of the rooms then heading back out to grab a bite to eat and to try to text Xavier again.

The day passes in the blink of an eye, and the time for the meetup arrives too swiftly. My messages to Xavier hang as "delivered" but still unread. At some point, Mephisto flies off somewhere, and no more texts or calls come through on my phone. Just as I suspected earlier, I'm alone in this.

As my watch signals 8:59 PM, I have no choice but to proceed inside.

After eight o'clock, the Destiny Café transitions to its nighttime décor. The bright daylight bulbs are dimmed and warm orange-tinted lights give the place a cozy firelight feel. The area for the internet café comes alive with multicolored LED signs and patterns. The computers there glow and pulse in a row of rainbow keyboards and mice. The coffee bar is still going strong, serving those who are more active during the dark hours of the clock.

It's a fairly busy night, and the rooms and seats are mostly all occupied. As I enter through the door, a pleasant chime calls the waiters' attention to my presence. I leave my winter coat at their valet check-in, and the servers wave and ask if there's anything I need. I'm about to have a seat in one of the chairs when my phone goes off with the same eerie melody from earlier.

"Ask for the Red Room."

I'm not surprised that Malakai already knows I'm here. My belly churns with a burst of adrenaline as I go up to the customer service desk. Am I ready for this? Probably not. Even with a trick like the grenade up my sleeve, I won't be able to do much if this is an ambush with a group of trained fighters. This is especially true now that I don't have my Evol to help me.

I take a deep breath.

Well, here goes nothing.

"Hello," I greet the young woman at the counter. "I have a reservation for the Red Room."

The girl looks confused, and while she's checking her tablet for something, a man approaches us in uniform from the coffee bar. He has an athletic build, and his appearance is well-kempt. I can't tell his age, though he seems to be older than I am. Xavier's age, maybe.

"I'll handle this, Lara," he tells the girl then turns to me. "This way please, miss."

I follow him down the hall, but he doesn't take us to any of the private rooms. Instead, he pauses at a narrow door labeled "Staff Only". With a flick of his wrist, he scans his bracelet against the keypad. The light on it turns green, and I hear the sound of a lock opening. The man gestures for me to go inside and hands me an earpiece.

"Thank you, um..." I didn't get his name, so I flounder.

"Isaiah," he says with a polite smile then turns on his heel and walks away. As he does, I press my lips together, pop in the earpiece, and tug open the door. As I do, I pull out one of my guns and unlock the safety. I don't care if I look paranoid. If this really is an ambush, I'll only get one chance to defend myself.

As soon I'm inside, the door locks into place behind me.

Well, shit.

When someone tries to capture you, you break their neck. Not their leg.

Sylus's voice echoes in my mind as I examine the room. It's empty, and there's not much to see. As I might have expected, the room itself doesn't have a touch of red in it. The name is simply code. Other than the odd entrance, though, it looks just like every other private room in the Café. Well, maybe not every room. Embedded in the back wall right next to the stylish arrangement of table and chairs is a large fish tank. It's illuminated and gives the room a pleasant cozy feel.

I walk up to the tank. It's taller than I am, taking up almost half of the entire wall. Strangely, it's empty, as though the owner hasn't finished setting it up yet. I try to see the other side of it, but there's too many plants and decorations to get a clear view. Still, I get the feeling that there's something behind it.

My heart is pounding, and I can't focus. Antsy, I check my watch.

9:10 PM

I start when static hisses across my earpiece for a moment before a familiar voice resounds within.

"You've come armed to a business meeting?"

Malakai.

I'd forgotten how much he reminds me of my dead brother.

I steel myself against those thoughts in particular. There's no room for my trauma to rear its head tonight. I need to stay focused.

"I still have no idea who you really are or what you want," I tell him calmly. "You text me out of the blue on an unregistered phone and invite me to meet you alone. And, what? You expect me to come in here and offer myself on a silver platter?"

A huffing sound. "I suppose I should start with an introduction, then."

"Seems right since you apparently know everything about me," I snap.

"Indeed. Since you came all this way, and since we'll be seeing more of each other from now on, 'guess there's no harm in it." A beat, then -- "I'm Malakai Noxis."

My hands tighten on my weapon and my blood runs cold.

Noxis?

Like the organization we've been hunting for months?

The implications cut me to the quick.

"I see I've struck you speechless."

"You're not just a buyer..."

He makes a sound of amusement. "How in the world did I leave that impression?"

So, the masked man I'd met at the Mythe was the leader of Noxis? He was responsible for its creation and all of the terrible ripples it had caused among society? All those deaths. All that suffering. And now, even my own condition. He was to blame for all of it?

"That changes things," I frown, resetting my grip on my gun.

"For you, maybe. But you haven't even heard what I've come to offer."

I bite my lip, keeping my simmering anger at bay. "Didn't think I was dealing with a coward who wanted to talk over an earpiece. Why'd you even invite me here if you weren't going to come in person?"

"Last time we met, you couldn't stop staring at me like I was a ghost. It wasn't pleasant. I wonder, do I look so much like someone you regret losing?"

"Don't change the topic."

"I wasn't. Or did you think only certain organizations could afford to buy explosives?"

I waver on my feet, leaning against the tank in front of me. "What did you say?"

"You're a smart girl. I don't think I need to repeat myself."

My mind goes blank as I try to wrap my head around what he's telling me. He mentioned explosives and losing people important to me. He could have looked up my history; he likely did already. Is he messing with my head? Or, is he taking responsibility for Caleb and Grandma's deaths? Is he admitting that it wasn't Onychinus, but Noxis that blew a crater in my life less than a year ago?

No.

Not just Noxis.

The man I'm speaking with right now.

I shudder. My hands lower even further. As I start to breathe faster in panic, I try to yank myself back into focus. There's no proof. Bring me proof. Otherwise, he could just be toying with me to throw me off kilter.

"Lies," I rasp. "You're lying."

"You think so?"

"What reason do I have to believe you?"

"Open the drawer to your left."

I look in that direction and step over to a short table with a ceramic blue vase on top of it. It has a single drawer, and with a shaking hand I reach out and open it. My heart nearly stops as I pull out a broken pair of glasses that I recognize too well. It's Grandma's. There's a piece of a charm chain hanging from the side. A Christmas gift from me. The metal is burned, and one of the lenses is missing. The lens that remains has a drop of dried and crusted blood smeared on its surface. I can't help it. I drop them to the floor and reel back.

"Judging by your reaction, I assume you recognize them."

It can't be.

"You...you...killed them..." But, why? Why tell me all this? Why bring me here? Surely he knows that the moment I see him, I'm going to break every single bone in his body. His face first. Just like I've always imagined doing to my family's killer.

I'll punch him again and again.

Then shoot him until he's full of holes and bleeding out at my feet.

"I like this look on your face," Malakai says. "The setup was worth it."

I look up and around the room, but I don't see any cameras. Where is he watching me from? Nausea claws at my gut, and I push it down. Bastard is watching me from somewhere. Watching and laughing at my pain and my sorrow. Well, I won't have it. I'm not his mobile entertainment, and I'm certainly not here to play around. Glancing at the tank, I suddenly get an idea. If I'm wrong, I'm about to get in a lot of trouble.

But, at this point -- fuck it all.

I raise my gun and point it at the fish tank. No hesitation. No doubt. No stops.

I pull the trigger.

It's reinforced, but not against my caliber of bullet. The cracks creep up the sides of the tank.

Pop

Crackle

Pop

Bang!

The glass shatters, and a wave after wave of water pours and guzzles out of the tank.

Beyond, I see a shadow of a man standing in the darkness.

"I think it's time we stopped playing games," Malakai growls in my earpiece.

He raises his hand, and an invisible force wraps around my whole body. I gasp in shock and panic as that same something moves me by force and presses me flush against the opposite wall. It's a sickening feeling, cold and vile. Even when Sylus had once used his Evol against me, it didn't feel like this. Sylus always controlled his strength, always avoided hurting me. No such mercy here; I'm struggling to breathe; my bones are about to break, my entire body on the verge of being crushed.

I try to speak, but nothing comes out.

I can't see anything past the wall in front of me.

Sounds around me.

Crunching glass and sloshing water.

Footsteps behind.

"Drop the gun," Malakai commands, his voice real now, not part of a transmission. The Evol presses harder against my hands, and I hang onto my weapon with everything I have. It hurts, but I refuse to let him have what he wants so easily. My skin breaks out in cold sweat. The footsteps come closer and closer. My heart lurches in panic when a pair of large hands settles over mine.

"I'd hate to break these pretty little fingers," Malakai drawls right beside me.

"F...uck...you..." I manage to get out past his restraints.

A pause, then laughter. He's laughing, and it's horrible because it sounds just like Caleb. But, not. Not like him after all. This laugh is full of hate. It's bitter and toxic.

"Should you speak that way to the man who's come to save you?"

"Let...go....we'll see who's...laughing then..."

He makes a sarcastic sound of dismissal. But, I must have distracted him because the force on my body weakens somewhat. I'm not about to waste this opportunity. This man murdered my family. I don't have time for mind games or whatever it is he wants to play. I'm sick of being tossed around like a rag doll, both by my enemies and by fate. I'm sick of being a weakling, and I'm sick of needing to rely on someone else.

I'm done. I'm over it!

I feel the Evol around my body, can almost see it. If only I could Resonate. If only I could mimic this frequency. I want to throw it back at him. I want him to feel what it's like to be a breath away from your lungs being torn apart. My whole body hurts; my eyes sting in response to the lack of oxygen. But, if he thinks he's going to make me black out and take me somewhere, he's wrong. I'll be damned if I let him capture me. I'll be damned if I have to feel weak ever again!

"Do as you're told. If you want to live, it won't be the last time you'll have to listen to what I say."

I see red.

My heart pounds in my ears.

I drop my gun, simultaneously using the chance to lift my bound wrists to rest against my chest. I struggle. I put everything I have into reaching for the grenade hidden in my shirt.

Malakai shifts behind me. "That's more like it. Ready to talk now?" he asks, his voice edged and gruff.

"Let...go...first..."

"No, I think we'll do it this way."

The force around my neck backs off somewhat, and I rush to take in a deeper breath. With the pressure gone, I cough. I'm dizzy, but not so much that I can't think straight. I just need to reach my inner pocket. Just a few inches. If only I could move my hand a little.

His palm appears in my line of vision. He's holding a tiny red vial no bigger than my thumb. There's a clear liquid inside. As though baiting me, he shakes it.

"Do you know what this is?" he asks. "I'm sure you do. It's what you came for." He pulls back his hand, and I hear him tucking the vial into his clothes. "One dose is all you need to detox."

I can speak normally now, and I use it to my advantage. "You're not just selling the LUMINIS. You're selling the antidote, too."

"Not yet. This vial is a single prototype. First you breed a dependent market. Then you hold the cure hostage. Isn't that just good business?"

"So many people have died..."

"I call it a learning curve..."

"You despicable bastard." I wiggle my fingers. Just a little more. I can feel the edge of the grenade with the pad of my index finger. Come on. I can do this. Keep him talking.

He chuckles. "Don't be so harsh. Or so quick to judge."

"So what do you want with me?"

A pause as he considers it. "Your heart, of course. The Aether Core. I'd think you'd know that by now."

"Why don't you just kill me and take it then?" My index finger snags the grenade.

"That would be a waste," he sighs. "I think you'll be more useful alive."

"So you want to use me for your science experiments?" My middle finger wraps around the metal. "How does that make you any different from Onychinus?"

The atmosphere around us changes. The air grows colder somehow. As I manage to get a third finger around the grenade, his footsteps come closer. I hiss as he grabs my hair and roughly pulls my head back.

"Don't compare me to those fools," he growls. The force around me weakens just a little more. It's marginal, but it's enough. My thumb makes contact with the weapon, and I can move my wrist.

"Is that your offer, then? You give me the antidote and I become your lab rat?"

He starts to say something, but I don't wait for him to finish. I use the nail of my thumb to pop out the cap on the grenade and flick my wrist to send it falling to the ground.

Ping ping ping splash!

It makes a quiet sound as it falls into the water. I squeeze my eyes shut and hold my breath. Beside me, I hear Malakai gasp.

The grenade goes off, but I don't register the sound. In a split second, I can't hear anything except my own breathing. I'm pushed even farther against the wall. The force around my body fades away, and I'm thrown sideways. Without missing a beat, I drop to the ground and feel around for my gun. The frigid water from the broken tank saturates my clothes. There's about an inch of it on the ground at my feet.

Blinking open my eyes, I ignore the bright splotches of light in them as I scramble to find Malakai. He's a few feet away, laying on his back. There's blood at his temple, and he groans in pain. I've stunned him. Bless you, Alren. You've probably saved my skin.

My world tilts and dips as I force myself to get to my feet. The grenade managed to affect me too, but it's not nearly as severe as Malakai. Stumbling over to him, I drop on top of him and point the gun barrel to his forehead. My breaths come in short staccato bursts, my hands shaking. I can't focus on anything except my fury now.

Murderer. Murderer! Pull the trigger. Pull it. My family will be avenged! The antidote is on him. I just have to take it. Then everything will be fine again. I can go back to being a Hunter. I can get my life back. Everything can go back to normal again. He's insane. He's responsible for so many deaths. He wants to capture me and dissect me. If I don't kill him now --

"You've gotten stronger, pip-squeak," Malakai groans softly beneath me.

My tunnel vision widens from the spot on his forehead where I'm pressing the gun. Black hair swims into my line of sight. Violet eyes next. Deep and sorrowful. No longer a stranger's eyes; no longer a stranger's voice. Blood surrounds us in the water. Not mine. The face looking up at me is mine though. My brother. The brother that I'd buried and mourned and missed.

Slowly, the pieces come together, and suddenly I can't breathe again. I start to pull back, but Malakai's Evol clamps around me and holds me still.

"No. Keep the gun right there," he says. His Evol tightens around me until it hurts. I grit my teeth and shift my fingers back to the trigger. "That's it. The second you move that away from me," his eyes darken. "Well, you'll definitely regret it."

"C-Caleb...Caleb..." It takes me a minute to realize I'm repeating his name like a broken record under my breath. "No...no...no...it's impossible...impossible..."

"Why?" he asks. "You buried an empty casket. You never looked for me."

"D-dead...you're..."

Droplets of water fall down and land on his cheeks.

Tears?

My tears?

But, I'm so numb. I can't feel anything.

"I'm right here," he smiles, and it's a mockery. All of it. A damn joke. A prank. It has to be.

"Caleb...Caleb..."

More droplets falling to his cheeks.

For a moment, his eyes soften. He reaches up and strokes the side of my face.

And then something rips a hole in the wall behind us. With a new path created for its passage, the excess water flushes out of the room through the void. Someone steps inside, stride by powerful stride.

Silver hair.

Red eyes.

Furious, blazing, glowing red.

"Sylus," Caleb's smile turns venomous. "At last you arrive. I did expect you to show up earlier."

Despite the storm in his gaze, Sylus's expression is mildly amused. He moves to stand a few feet from us. I know that stance. I know the meaning of the arrogant tilt to his chin and the thrill to the curve of his mouth. In this moment, he's come to claim a life. For a minute, he just stands and stares down at us, though he doesn't acknowledge me at all.

"Not going to say anything?" Caleb challenges.

Sylus's smirk widens. "I don't deal with dead men."

Before I know what I'm doing, I'm throwing my arms out to the sides and trying to block my brother with my body.

"No," I whimper. "Please, no. You can't. He's...he's..."

Sylus takes a few more steps towards us.

One.

Then another.

I shake my head, tears flowing freely down my face.

"No...no...no...you can't...you can't! I won't let you!"

Standing directly above us now, Sylus looks displeased. His eyes rove over me. There is no mercy in them. No empathy.

"Don't force me to make you move aside," he warns, his tone steady and calm.

I shake my head. "Please...please...don't..."

"Now that you're here, let's get the show on the road," behind me, Caleb shifts. I hear him mumble something else, but I can't make it out. He reaches for something in his pocket.

Sylus's hand flies out. He pulls me against him then turns us as though shielding me.

My mind catches up. Caleb's words finally register.

An eye for an eye.

Just as I feel Sylus's Evol wrap around us, an inferno swallows us whole. The explosion is deafening, and I can do nothing but scream and press my hands over my ears. The roar of the flames envelops us like a monstrous tidal wave. The heat scorches at my back and shoulders. We're going to burn alive at this rate, and there's absolutely nothing I can do. My surroundings bend, shift, and blur together.

Then, silence.

Silence and distorted sound.

Clean, crisp winter air nips at my exposed arms and legs.

We've Jumped.

I blink open my eyes and see that we're outside in the snow. Still reeling, I hear screams and clamoring. People are running down the street. Emergency sirens are wailing. Someone's tripped the PA system to call for Hunters and Fire Marshall support. Black thick smoke billows upwards into the night sky. As my thoughts sharpen, I recognize the blazing building.

It's the Destiny Café.

How odd. I don't remember coming here. The last thing I recall was sitting in my apartment and reading a book.

I smell rusted metal.

I look down at my hands.

They're covered in red. Deep, dark, red that looks almost black in the moonlight.

At last, I look up at the person I'm embracing and meet equally crimson eyes. My heart melts at the sight of his face. I'm relieved. My arms are wrapped around Sylus, and he's warm and sturdy and real. So much time has passed since we spoke. I was starting to fear that he'd forgotten me.

My relief is short lived as I see that his back is coated in blood. That's what's all over my palms. His jacket is gone, and his shirt is torn. His lips are moving, but I can't hear what he's saying.

That seems to upset him.

"Ellara," he calls my name.

I hear him this time.

"Sylus...you've come..."

He shakes my shoulder and holds something in front of my face. A small red vial no bigger than my thumb. Clear liquid moves inside. Something about that vial spears me through the heart as soon as I see it. But, I don't want to think about that right now. There's no reason to; not now.

My cheeks feel cold.

"Drink it," he says to me. "Now."

"What is it?"

"Drink," he says again in a rough impatient tone. "Don't make me tell you again."

I take the vial, and he helps me tip it into my mouth. It's tasteless and odorless.

Strange. Why are my hands shaking?

And then the blood catches my attention again. "Are you hurt?"

He smiles and strokes the top of my head. "It's not my blood," he says as always. He's lying, but I don't want to think about that either. As he reassures me, the fluid on my hands glows red and turns to ash.

I touch my face, wiping away tears.

Sylus stands up and offers me a hand. I take it, letting him help me to my feet.

"Looks like there's been a fire," I say, feeling strangely sleepy all of a sudden.

Sylus makes a sound of agreement.

"How come you're here?" I ask.

"Do you not remember calling for me?" he tilts his head. His expression is still steady, controlled. But his eyes give him away. There's concern there, deep within.

"Ah..." I rub my temple. "Sorry, I'm a bit tired. I guess I haven't been sleeping well."

"If you're tired, you can rest in my arms," he says, holding them out. I step into them, pressing my cheek against his chest. He feels warm and safe, as always.

"Will you take me home?"

He nods. "If that's where you wish to go."

I close my eyes. "Please don't leave me alone again."

His arms tighten around me. "I won't," he promises, and I pray that this time he's telling me the truth.

#eyes of infinity delirium #love and deepspace #love and deepspace fanfic #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x mc #sylus/mc #sylusposting #sylus #lnds #lnds xavier #lnds fanfic #lnds sylus

16 notes · View notes

aheckinmess · 5 months ago

Text

Bullet in a Gun [Snipe] (Angst)

(One-shot 23/? in a collection of My Hero Academia one-shots posted regularly on Saturdays - and sometimes Sundays.)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Snipe, Choku Dan, Pro Hero Snipe, Snipe x OC, Snipe x Reader, Original Female Character(s), Ichijiku Aoki, Angst, And When I Say Angst, I Mean the Cliche Damsel in Distress This Time, I'm Not Sorry, I Committed to the Chivalrous Cowboy Trope, Snipe Rides in to Save the Day, I Gave Myself a Panic Attack Writing This, It Was Worth It, Snipe is So Underappreciated, I Did My Best to Remedy That, We Stay Writing 1.6K Words This Week

Word Count: 1,639 words

Summary: As Ichijiku contemplates life, a villain decides to make her contemplate her life specifically when he kidnaps her to get back at Snipe. As the clock for Ichijiku's life ticks down, Snipe finds a hint left behind as to where she's being held. When he finally arrives, he might be able to save her, but at what cost?

Ichijiku (Tigress)

If I stare at the sky for too long, it almost seems like a cardboard cutout, ready at any moment to fall forward and reveal its Great Creator behind it, spanning out into the dark, expansive realm of space. Will galaxies seem finite in the infinitesimal vacuum of space? Or will they only seem that much bigger with my own microscopic existence soiling the atmosphere?

Those thoughts plague my mind before a blue-haired man with tattoos wrestles me out of my rocking chair and through my house to steal me away.

Now, tied to a railroad track and left with nothing but the sky to look at, I’m not wondering about the vast expanse of the heavens any more. I’m wondering what Snipe will think of my absence. Will he think I’m ready to move on from our year-long relationship, unaware of my predicament? Or will he be lost and confused, distraught when he doesn’t find my warning in time?

Death doesn’t even cross my mind, despite the fact that Chameleon makes it very clear I’ll be dying at precisely 3:00pm.

“You’re awfully calm for someone in this situation.”

“You’ll have to forgive me. I’m an introvert and not entirely sure how I should respond to this.” My tone is, in fact, far more calm than it should be. “If this is your idea of catching a date, you’ve got the wrong idea. This isn’t a girl’s idea of a fun time, nor is it what she means when she says she wants to be railed.”

“Shut up. That’s hardly an appropriate response.” I hear him huff out a breath before he continues. “You’re not nearly as fun as I’d hoped. I’d been banking on hearing you scream until you lost your voice.” He drawls, apparating into existence in my line of sight.

What I thought to be a simple blue, turns out to be iridescent scales camouflaging him with every winking beam of sunlight, a kaleidoscope of color with every step he takes. He might be handsome if he didn’t just hogtie me to the tracks.

“I’m so sorry to disappoint you.” I roll my eyes as I glare at him. “But it’s Snipe’s job to make me scream, you know.”

A moment later he’s got a rope tied around my mouth, effectively gagging me.

“On second thought, it’s far too irritating listening to you talk. You have no class.” He crosses his arms across his chest before looking down one side of the tracks. “But don’t worry. You’ll be screaming soon.”

When I feel the ground rumbling beneath me followed by a thunderous horn in the distance, panic sweeps through my chest. Even so, death still isn’t my first thought. Instead, I squeeze my eyes shut and think of Snipe. I think of the sky. I think of infinity and my cat and love letters and regrets and what could have been.

Only when I see the approaching silhouette of the train do I allow myself a fleeting thought for death.

. . . . .

It’s 2:23pm when Snipe dismounts from his horse. It’s 2:25 when he whips past the overturned rocking chair and bursts into her open door, barely hanging onto its hinges.

It’s 2:26 when he finds the note plastered to her fridge.

Been a while since we’ve had a fair fight, Snipe. Let’s see if you’re still on your A-game. Your lady dies at three o’clock sharp. See if you can save her in time.

Snipe’s world is out of sorts. The world is not in harmony because she should be here and she should be making tea. She should be turning to the door with that blue-ribbon winning smile as he offers her a bouquet of her favorite flowers. She should be gazing into the corral of his eyes that he leaves open just for her.

She should not be gone.

Snipe slams his fist into the wall trimming, using the pain to pull himself back together. He doesn’t have time to waste. No time at all. Time that ticks down with every second he spends rummaging through the house, searching for any sign of where Chameleon might have taken her.

He’s nearly given up hope by 2:35, where he sinks to his knees and reminds himself to breathe. She will not die. She will be in his arms again. She will hide little love letters in his hat-shaped ring box that once housed her engagement ring now sitting on her finger.

Love letters. Without thinking, he opens the box and what should he find but a note? A blue, crumpled sticky note folded more haphazardly than the rest, and on it is a scribbled word in her handwriting: train.

The box falls to the floor and the door slams shut as Snipe leaps onto his horse and spurs the mare to motion, flying through the forest and into the open plains like a bat out of hell.

When a train comes into view, his eyes follow the tracks on an uncomfortably close trajectory towards two figures. He knows even as he urges Kuroashi faster that he won’t make it.

At 2:59 he aims his gun.

. . . . .

The train is here. It’s close enough to feel the heat from its smoky breath as it rattles the tracks. All sounds drown out from the steady rhythm of chug-a-chug-a-choo-choo until my brain turns the cadence into an ominous Death is coming for you.

The train is here. The train is here. Death is here and all I can worry about is whether or not Snipe will keep the box for my engagement ring. Will he hold it when he wants to remember me? Or will he get rid of everything so he doesn’t have to remember what he lost?

Chameleon’s timer goes off to the sound of a gunshot.

Click. Clank. The switch lever swerves with the tracks and suddenly the train zooms past me, still far too close for comfort, but no longer on course to swallow me with its iron jaws. The warmth of the train mingles with adrenaline and suddenly I can’t stop wiggling and whimpering in my restraints, muscles buzzing as I fight to get off these damn tracks.

“More vocal now, huh?” Chameleon hisses, disappearing and activating his quirk just as Snipe rides into range.

“MMPH!” I try to warn him.

But his camouflaged offender sends him flying off his horse and into the dirt, gun still primed in his hand. He’s on his feet quickly, but what can he do? I watch helplessly as Snipe’s homing quirk becomes useless. How does one shoot what he can’t see?

My eyes scour the dirt, searching for footprints and other minute signs of his movement. When a cloud of dust swirls by Snipe’s feet, I thrash in my bindings, desperately trying to free myself and help him. My fiancé’s head arcs back into the ground from his unseen adversary, kick-starting my heart.

Blood drips from his nose as keen, pro-hero eyes start searching for the same tell-tale signs of Chameleon’s movements I’ve been watching for. It costs him a hit in the stomach and his ribs, but he analyzes his foe’s movements to reclaim the upper hand. Snake battles snake in the hot, barren plains while my body quivers with fear.

All it takes is another dust cloud and bam! Snipe wrestles the invisible villain into the ground, appearing to fight air until Chameleon relinquishes use of his quirk.

“Glad to see you’re still in tip top shape, Snipe.” Chameleon growls, turning his glare to me as Snipe pulls out the restraining tape. “But you cut it kind of close, and next time she won’t be so lucky.”

“There won’t be a next time if you’d prefer to keep breathing.” Snipe barks out, his voice feral and sharp.

Snipe gets Chameleon’s hands behind his back and calls the cops as he sprints in my direction. Calloused hands act as a balm to the tremors tainting my muscles. When he cuts the bindings loose, he grabs my face and presses his forehead to mine; we share each others’ oxygen, our eyes promising the other what our mouths can’t say right now - I’m here and you’re safe and I’m not going anywhere.

My life remains finite while stretching infinitely before me, stretching straight out for Snipe.

I don’t ever want to let him go.

“You’re okay.” He whispers; it’s hard to tell whether he says this for me or himself. “Are you hurt? Did he do anything before he tied you up?”

“A few bruises and cuts.” My fingers card through his hair and slide down his cheek, soaking in every ridge and bump of his body. “And that’s only because I put up a fight before he got me here.”

“That’s my girl.” He grins and the world clicks back into place.

The heat sears my body and pain torments my bones as I become abruptly aware of the world around me. His presence anchors me as I’m swirling dangerously close to the edge of unconsciousness. He catches me with whispered coos, keeping me tethered for now.

“You’re having an adrenaline crash. And, hell, I can’t blame ya. But take a few deep breaths for me, okay, darlin’? Police should be here soon.”

It’s 3:34 when the police arrive to stuff Chameleon in the back of their car and EMTs arrive to check me for injuries. Only when the blinding blue and red lights disappear from my line of sight do I make myself stop counting the minutes.

“Do you want me to take you home?” Snipe whispers in my ear, securing a shock blanket around my shoulders.

“Not my house.” I whimper. “Will you take me to your place?”

“Of course, honey. I’ll keep you safe. Let’s go home.”

Want More Snipe? Try: Hanging Fire in the Pond

11 notes · View notes

uaremyjae · 1 year ago

Text

My thoughts on my One Piece journey and How it’s affected me 🩷

This is going to be long ass post lol

I think this is the platform that I never knew that I will ever comeback to but you know because of one piece and deprived of Sanji, Nami & Law content, ✨ here I am 😁✨ *shamelessly comeback after abandoned tumblr for good 11 years lmao*.

Anyway, I just want to let out my thoughts on my one piece journey and how it affected me. So bear with me. This is only place I can talk about One Piece because other platforms I had is related to kpop * Yes I’m a kpop fan. HEAVY ON NCT. Neo Got My Back.*

I know about one piece way back when I’m teenager. It’s just I don’t start to watch it/ read it somehow?? Idk why 🤷‍♀️ I’m also confused to as why because I did grew up watch anime like FMAB, Naruto, Bleach, Black Butler, K-On, Fairy Tail on tv. HECK I EVEN WATCH THE LONG ASS DETECTIVE CONAN TOO 😭

I think it’s because back in the day ( 2010 - 2017 ), I had lack of access to internet and not exposed to the series at all. Besides the local TV station here, only aired Naruto ,Bleach and those anime I mentioned . *I’m just 24 years old btw*

So around September 2023, I came across to One Piece content on TikTok and funny enough it’s Brook edit! I was so intrigued with this character and little did I know I watch a bunch of One Piece clip here and there on TikTok. To be fair, I am basically spoiled myself that time 😬 but I’m the type dgaf if I got spoiled because I won’t remember at all later on. 🤷‍♀️

So I decide to start watch it. First few episodes, my reaction was like “ Okay Luffy is an interesting guy🧐his body stretches and always smiled! He got damn hands tho ngl”. Zoro, my reaction was like “ahaaa SO THIS IS ZORO THAT EVERYONE KEEP TALKING ABOUT. Quite a Stud.”

Nami, interesting female character that I can relate because I like money 🤑 and her backstory is so sad. Ussop is also another character I gradually love over the time!

Then COMES MY HUSBANDO, SANJI. Man I have a thing for a man who can cook and looks good in suits. Sanji really makes me having my first anime crush ever! I DONT HAVE A CRUSH ON ANYONE IN NARUTO & Detective Conan but One Piece made me have one 🤧 *The upgrade from loving a guy that exist but doesn’t know you exist ( haechan,jaehyun & jaemin bb i luv you guys but Sanji 😮‍💨) to loving a guy who are not exist on this plane of earth 👀*

Little did I know I start to binge watch it. First day of watching, 30 episodes in 6 hours. 10 days later I already watch 325 episodes . but the show is so good! The story telling that oda created really hit home to me and the foreshadowing & lore he created makes me hooked unlike other story that I have read & watched.

Here’s the thing, to me every anime that I watch, I never like finish it . Sometimes I would just watch last ep and called it the day. This is not only apply on anime, it’s apply to western shows, my own local shows & k-dramas. So One Piece truly like solidified their place on my heart. I finally can understand why one piece are so loved for decades!

Also during those times, I hit rock bottom too. I quit my job because I was falsely accused for stealing shit at my work place and being discriminated by my ex-boss due to being the youngest one for my entire work.( everyone else was in their 40’s ). That time I was desperate as I need some money to achieve my bucket-list and want to lessen the burden of my family. Lord heavens knows what I’m going through, got death threats by that mf. Twisted the truth that causing my whole family cut ties with her severely. From there, I felt so stress and worried.

So One Piece is my way of escapism and it’s been a beautiful and exciting journey. Compared to last time, I took a 7 months breaks from works due to burn out & anxiety, this time it doesnt took long for me to overcome those situations and my “year-end blues” that I called is not as bad as before. I also has been actively try to get a job asap so I can buy an Ipad as I want to start learning digital drawing again after watching one piece.

One piece teach me it’s never late to start a new journey towards your dream! I used to dream to be a graphic designer or animators but my family don’t want me to be that. They want me to have that conservative jobs like working in government, an accountant etc. so essentially I gave up those dreams so I can make them proud of me. It’s been bothering me for so long as I felt like I should have go for what I want not what people want. At the end, I abandoned my accountancy knowledge and worked as an admin & a baker which I found a lot more less stressful that being an accountant. I guess what people describe after knows me personally being a confident, free-spirited & rebellious is just the way I am. AND oddly enough One Piece is just perfect manga & anime for me!

At this point, I already caught up with anime. I’m a weekly basis anime watchers now. I also has caught up with manga too. It’s been a huge revealing & fresh experience of One Piece for me. I felt like I being myself again! It’s weird but it’s the truth! I never felt so at ease and being seen. I just want to do what I want. It’s just fitting fate for me to be a One Piece fan!

That’s all what I want to say… if you really read this till the end. Thank you!

#one piece #I’m lucky to found one piece #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #nami #ussop #sanji #tony tony chopper #PEOPLE SHOULD START WATCH ONE PIECE FOR BETTER LIFE! I’m being real here!#soul king brook #franky #jimbei #nico robin

30 notes · View notes

terrence-silver · 1 year ago

Note

How would 80s terry feel about being beloveds first kiss and significant other? Love your writing, some of the best I’ve read♥️

Part of Terry Silver would be convinced untouched, kissless virgins ceased existing as a concept around the time of the First California Gold Rush.

Okay, all jokes aside --- but then again, am I joking? Am I really? It's the 80's, the decade widely considered one of sex, drugs and rock and roll, and Terry Silver's own hedonistic, upper class lifestyle might lead him to believe, that hey, while people aren't all necessarily debauched (mainly because he's convinced they, unlike him, they simply can't afford it and people who can't afford things view life's pleasures as sour grapes, which, wooptie-doo, for all he's concerned) they still aren't as sheltered and as irrationally pure as to be entirely devoid of basic experience because, knowledgeable and analytical as he is, he doesn't figure that's realistic. Until he finds one devoid of basic experience, yes. As such, discovering beloved is like discovering a rare, improbable gem. Or a new continent! Quite literally. He isn't sure if he'd tease them for it, test if they're a liar even though he knows they're not (but hey, why deny himself the satisfaction of prodding and poking anyway?) cruelly laugh at them, laugh at himself for being so lucky to stumble upon them first, seduce them slowly, quickly --- allow them to beg to be seduced, play this fully seriously and pretend he's much less experienced than he really is to appeal to them or just claim them and ruin them for everyone else? Perhaps, all of the above? Like, this is the type of stuff money can't buy. A kissless virgin who's never felt the touch of a hand? A caress? Stroking, salivating, heaving and thrusting? Giving and submitting? Being guided, molded and taught? Open to opportunity? All opportunity? Good, bad, the very worst and the very best all at once? A blank canvas he can fill with anything he wishes? My goodness, he's hit the jackpot! He loves that. He loves it so much! He's a kid in a candy shop. Like, he'd be manic and enthusiastic concerning the prospect of, oh, I don't know, all the things he could possibly do, to the degree he ain't sure what he wants to do first.

You have to understand --- this is a man who has everything.

So, something he doesn't have? Or hasn't had before?

It's always alluring.

Someone who's suspectable and teachable? A wide-eyed innocent? Uncharted, untouched territory? Someone who's never known anything unless he's demonstrating it to them? A trust he can use or abuse if he so deems it? He can show them unimaginable sights and then discard them for it's own sake, deliberately, as an act of sadism, to let them wander desperate and heartbroken or he can take and devour them in the most selfish, possessive way imaginable. Perfect. Even more alluring. Options are endless. He wants them and he'll have them because he's decided already he's the most fitting person to show them everything. It's the Sensei and teacher in him that cannot resist the opportunity. It's the greedy Capitalist in him, meanwhile, that cannot resist just collecting the rare and the beautiful. So, beloved gets collected too. Like a once in a lifetime bottle of old vintage champagne or an unique piece of art only he has and nobody else --- and they get savored. Time and time and time again. So, how does Terry Silver feel about beloved never having had a significant other prior to him, going as far as to have never really kissed anyone before?

Oh, baby, he feels elated and as feral as one can get.

The World's truly his very own oyster.

Not that he ever doubted it.

#terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #tw; virginity #tw; innocence #tw; corruption #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #80's terry silver

31 notes · View notes

thegeminisage · 8 months ago

Text

STAR TREK UPDATE TIME. we have finally watched the voyager pilot! short verdict: nothing will ever be as good as ds9 but i enjoyed it!!

longer verdict: i will go through it character by character, in order of appearance, saving the maquis crew for when they have more than .5 seconds of screentime in the little opening. this feels like a REALLY big cast, by the way?? am i counting right? 11 recurring characters and we don't even have seven yet? tos has 7 with chapel and rand appearing sometimes, tng had 8 with o'brien and guinan sometimes, ds9 has seven with...man, jake nog rom garak AND keiko as recurring extras, and we don't even have worf yet. so i guess ds9's is technically bigger! anyway.

JANEWAY: i was surprised at how janeway sounded...her voice is different than i expected even though i've heard her be flemeth in dragon age. i was also kind of surprised to see her in the bun and her head looked So Big. like dax's in season 1-2 of ds9. i'm used to seeing her with it down in gifs which looks better but personally i also think she could have rocked the kira cut. that said, i like her so SO much. she has a couple of speeches that remind me VERY strongly of kirk - when she's lamenting harry left his clarinet behind and not getting to know him, when she decided she couldn't sacrifice an entire people to get one ship home. she's got the kind of compassion kirk did - when she pulled up a stool to listen to the caretaker's troubles, when she held his horrible little corpse, she was genuinely filled with real sadness for what had happened there. (as a side note, speaking of tos, the ship voyager also reminds me of the original enterprise WAY more than the tng enterprise was - especially their little cafeteria.) i was really surprised she had a boyfriend, because i feel like i've heard she gets with chakotay! sorry to her bf, she is gonna cheat on you (and i support women's wrongs), but the worst part is the dog. if they pull some odyssey shit with the dog i'm gonna be so upset. ALSO, i love that she insists on "ma'am" instead of sir (that always bugged me) and even that will only do in a pinch. YOU WILL ADDRESS HER AS CAPTAIN. even when her hair fell down she fixed it on her way down the hallway. she's such a badass. when she says she's gonna get them home I BELIEVE HER. she's got an iron fucking nerve and balls made of titanium.

TOM PARIS: i hate this man so much it's insane. i googled to see whether he died and found out he was played by one of those cadets wesley got in trouble with...girl, he was in prison, why not just make him the same guy?? anyway, he was kind of shitty to both harry and chakotay (oh boy we are already being racist to chakotay) and i cannot believe THIS is the man janeway is gonna have salamander babies with. he's extremely obnoxious all the time (him harassing that betazoid lady...fuck off lol) and i just KNOW people are writing paris/chakotay slash because of their whole deal which makes him more annoying. the "your life is mine now" thing is racist as hell. i'm not prepared to sympathetically see this man's hidden depths bc i know that as a snarky white man he already has half of whatever voyager fandom happens to exist doing that for him already. sadly, we will have to put up with him for all seven seasons. LUCKILY, aside from the racism, half of which came from this guy anyway, he was my only real sour note.

HARRY KIM: love this dude. i like how he managed to talk sense into b'elanna when she was wigging out and despite my wishing he didn't have to be friends with tom paris him going "i can pick my own friends" was a great way to show that he's not afraid to stand up for himself. i wish i wasn't feeling so anti-quark lately bc otherwise his scene in the bar with quark (and why is it always quark doing these surprise cameos!!) would've been pretty funny. i think it was a nice touch that harry, on his first EVER mission, got to be the one to deliver the news about how far from home they were. i absolutely love his whole deal of being completely green and meeting everything head-on anyway, he is so brave. as i said before, the way he is just charging through despite being out of his depth reminds me a little of chekov, if chekov had brain cells. he's very charming. i think he and b'elanna could get it also.

HOLOGRAM DOCTOR: he is so funny, i love him. like, i don't really know how he works? is all of medbay a holodeck? but it's kind of hilarious that he's sentient enough to get annoyed when people are randomly beamed away and when people forget to shut him off (he needs a nap!)

CHAKOTAY: oh i am already feeling how rough this is going to be. that "can't you use some magic to turn into a bird and fly away" and also the "your life is mine now" were rrrracist. (that said, "you're too heavy" was a really good comeback.) can we please be normal. that aside: i really like him. i like how quickly he came to grips with the situation and i like how much he hates tom paris (NOT SEXUAL!!! NO!!!!!! i just agree with him) and i especially like that he has a set of titanium balls to match janeway's like did we SEE that doomsday machine-esque suicide run he almost went on? he cut it even closer than kirk did and kirk cut it that close ON ACCIDENT chakotay was yelling at them not to beam his ass back until his ship was already on fucking fire. also, he's very handsome. ALSO, when tom paris asked him "you'd rather die than let me rescue you?" i had to laugh because quite literally 10 seconds prior out of mine own mouth was "if it was death or tom paris i might let go." i really hope there's more to chakotay than "tom paris's antagonistic buddy" because 1. a fate worse than death 2. this is not humans and vulcans this is real life racism you cannot spock and bones this. STOP THAT.

TUVOK: ALSO VERY HANDSOME. very like. he reminds me of spock so much because he's extremely bitchy but also very dialed down about it. i like that leonard nimoy was like yeah im gonna go stupid crazy and all vulcan will be like this from now on, including my funny little eyebrow thing, in which girlies will still see spock long after i'm dead. like what misha collins tried to do with cas but it actually worked. tuvok strikes that perfect balance of dignified and kind of above everyone else without feeling stuck up or prissy (though his scene where he tries so hard not to look at neelix's junk was great, he was justifiably a little prissy there), and with that undercurrent of wryness that nevertheless doesn't truly betray any emotion - you don't get the same sense of repression/unease with the self from him (at least in the pilot, who knows what will happen later) that you do from spock so it doesn't feel like voyager is copying tos's homework, and it feels nice to get to know another vulcan who's gonna be a main character instead of a one-off. i hope they are more normal about a black vulcan than they have been about chakotay so far bc we have got to get out from under all of that. i am a little worried janeway might kill him. i feel like i see people on reddit criticizing her all the time for killing some dude who i am pretty sure is tuvok and like. can someone tell me if he dies if he dies i will be SO mad

B'ELANNA TORRES: she is stupid hot. i'm a little "lol" when she's like yeah my klingon half is HARD TO CONTROL!!! (super saiyan scream of rage) bc like worf does fine (most of the time...) but i will never turn down a chance to watch a beautiful woman be insane with rage. i like how she calls harry kim "starfleet" derisively and then goes out of her way to give him breaks when he needs them and help him up the stairs when he can't make it. big tsundere energy. also like that she was questioning janeway's decisions. not that i disagree with janeway's decisions necessarily i just like that janeway will have to earn her respect from some people the way any male captain would. equality. also, potentially, girlfights.

NEELIX: i forgot to add him to "the things i know about voyager" post because i had only heard him mentioned a couple of times and got the idea he was just a horrible little gremlin there for comic relief. a rygel, if you will. a quark, if you won't. was pleasantly surprised to like him better than rygel and quark combined, though that's a pretty low bar. not only is he clever enough to outsmart the slavers, he was brave and caring enough to go back and rescue his girl. HE RESPECTS WOMEN. also, his water indulgence was pretty hilarious, as was, again, his scene with tuvok. i feel like those two could do straight man funny guy all day long. a dynamic duo. i hope they wind up having screentime together. i don't mind horrible little gremlins so much when they're charming and when they aren't trying to take holosuite videos of kira.

KES: i feel like kes hasn't done much yet except lecture her people on the dangers of having a cult-like mentality. but i like her! she's sweet and compassionate and pretty brave. she does a lot to humanize neelix, at least! maybe it's just me but i feel like she was barely in this. for now i am trusting that they do more with her later. or, idk, maybe they don't. we DO have janeway AND b'elanna AND seven eventually so i can't be too mad about it as long as they're not turning her into a holodeck sex toy like poor deanna

other things of note:

BANJOS? i counted three different southern accents in this section. it would have been offensive if it wasn't so funny. the people holding hands and jumping around in a circle like animated robin hood characters was a great touch. so was the corn on the cob. the emotional whiplash from an otherwise very serious episode was. certainly something.

the empty barn reminded me of this side of paradise <3 i love, in general, how voyager just FEELS a little bit like tos. certainly more than tng did, even more than ds9 does. like this FEELS like it's set in the same universe, it kind of bridges a mental gap between ds9/tng and tos for me, worldbuilding wise.

water thing reminded me of mad max. really good.

slaver aliens.......are these guys really our antagonists?? i thought our antagonists were the borg but maybe we don't do that until seven gets here. i feel like possibly a bunch of semi-primitive people in the desert who enslaved and beat (potentially raped, depending on how you want to interpret that dialogue) a pretty blonde girl is maybe um. not the best idea. maybe they'll get written down into side villains and eventually just guys. like the ferengi. siiigh, the ferengi.

that said, i kind of loved the story of the caretaker and the ocampa, enough that i almost forgot the caretaker was choosing to appear as a banjo-playing hillbilly. i like to think him and his wife were from andromeda like those guys from tos...and it's very nuanced that even after he fucked their planet forever he still didn't really learn to value life because he's kidnapping people and letting them die or stay stranded in order to attempt to procreate. NONETHELESS he is filled with remorse, and janeway's scene with him, comforting him that children could learn to grow on their own, was really sweet. i also like that when he died his little horrible goop body shrank down until it looked like a hunk of dried snot. do not take that to the ocampa.

i just like the PREMISE of voyager. a 75-year journey that they have to cut down by any means possible...it's like the odyssey, but it space. in tos and tng they wandered from place to place but always over the same stomping grounds in general. we have the same old players, like klingons and romulans and vulcans and andorians etc etc. in ds9 we stay in one single place and it's to our benefit because we get deep character work. but voyager is going in a straight line back to earth, and we've never been out here before, so whether or not it lives up to the potential right now it feels like anything truly could happen. we don't be running into the neutral zone and we can't call the klingons for help or stop by quark's for another cameo. we are just out here. it's VERY neat.

major concerns so far include of course tom paris and potentially him being handcuffed to chakotay as banter buddies. racism in general but also with chakotay in particular. and perhaps a lack of interesting points re: kes. rip girl.

stuff i'm looking forward to is janeway getting to be a person instead of A Woman, seven eventually, getting to know chakotay and tuvok better, and the salamander episode, someday.

okay. this concludes my voyager pilot write-up. TONIGHT: "parallax" and "time and again."

#personal #star trek blogging #voy lb

15 notes · View notes

feralshadowdemon · 1 year ago

Note

HELLO

ivan, chuuya, fukuchi, tetchou, AAAAND

yosano

HELLO!!!!!!!!! THIS IS GOING TO BE LONG ivan goncharov first impression: oh how did fyodor fuck you up (did not know/realize he was lobotomized either) impression now: ohh he's my silly. his english dub voice gives me gender envy. i like his eyes. he is weirdly a well-written lobotomized guy. i looked into actual lobotomy for you favorite moment: his entire fight scene was good and more people should talk about it. signed yours truly me idea for a story: primarily? a general character study, however, - bubble bath. it is a character study with him and shibusawa. not set in canon - highschool au. he deserves to be a normal highschool student. he would swear a sweater vest. i will die on this hill unpopular opinion: his character is really fucking good and yes his ability's name is on the nose but i hope we see him again. i don't like shipping him in canon though bc he can't. Consent. Fyovan should not exist. also i think more people should be paying attention to the bsd side characters favorite relationship: shibuvan/shibusawa x ivan and you know it. my #1 comfort ship in my heart. they are so cute <3 favorite headcanon: he has tics and freckles. also sometimes i like making him trans the others are below v

chuuya nakahara first impression: oh he's cool impression now: I WANT TO BE YOU YOUR CHARACTER IS SO COOL GIVE ME YOUR GENDER YOUR CHARACTER SCRATCHES MY BRAIN YOUR ABILITY IS SO COOL. I AM NOT NORMAL. favorite moment: THE HELICOPTER SCENE OH MY GODD idea for a story: i have many! - hirotsu visits him during a stormy night and he's suffering w chronic pains but hirotsu gets him his meds. they get to talk a little. they are silly to me - summer camp au w dazai they are at war constantly - i have too many, but to briefly summarize the rest: fan dancer and kitsune au, meiji era/period au, chuuya and kouyou fic/character study, there will be more after i read stormbringer unpopular opinion: he probably doesn't have anger issues. might just be agitated easily or because of dazai. also people need to stop getting his character soo wrong because the amount of mischaracterization that surrounds that man is NOT funny favorite relationship: people sleep on his and hirotsu's possible dynamic. next one is well. okay. it's obvious, but soukoku, i just like their dynamic whether it's romantic or not. absolute menaces. shoutout to kunichuuzai also, but i honestly cannot ship that man all the time. bonus platonic relationships i really like is the idea of tetchou and chuuya becoming good fucking friends. let chuuya have so many friends to make up for the ones he's lost favorite headcanon(s): freckles chuuya, lightning scars chuuya, nonbinary chuuya (i dont use they/them for them all the time but i am a believer in it), chronic pains, autistic, metal/rock (the song genre) lover, sanrio and ocean life special interest, also demisexual/demiromantic !! sorry they have the most. favoritism is showing fukuchi ochi

first impression: oh doesn't he kill everybody's faves. meh impression now: YOUR CHARACTER AND WRITING IS SO OVERLOOKED. YOU ARE DAD MATERIAL AND THAT SCARES ME BUT IM ALSO :D ABOUT IT favorite moment: the entire fucking fight he has with atsushi and akutagawa. you don't understand he was both terrifying and also that gave me an actual adrenaline rush once i watched it in the anime. the music was so good. also the scene w aya !! idea for a story: the main one is a fukufuku fic where it goes through how overtime, fukuzawa in fukuchi's eyes is more like a wolf than a human being. it's his way of making it hurt less when he has to hurt him. i cant remember any others, but i hope there will be more unpopular opinion: can the fandom not hate on him so much lmao i dont mind seeing people dislike him that's valid but like. give him a chance i swear. he also can be trusted with children favorite relationship: him and fukuzawa's (romantically or platonically idrc). holy shit. holy shit. holy shi- also bonus shoutout to him and ranpo's!! it is not shown a lot but augh. of course i love his relationship with the hunting dogs too but fukufuku sits at the top favorite headcanon: hm. i can't think of any rn tetchou suehiro

first impression: AUTISTIC impression now: AUTISTIC favorite moment: them and kenji's fight >>>>> idea for a story: they are a samurai and they meet jouno along the way. they stay with fukuchi after having a rough run-in with an innkeeper and some people who are after them. they smell like blossoms unpopular opinion: i wish people wrote them beating up people more they're literally one of the strongest characters (physically specifically) of bsd favorite relationship: them and jouno's is peak favorite headcanon: asexual and nonbinary tetchou for the win. my most favorite one of all time though is them being half-taiwanese :] akiko yosano (surprise???)

first impression: please be well written. impression now: she is so cool!! i wish she had more screentime but oh my god she is so cool <33333 she is fun in the manga and i love her so much favorite moment: her backstory i wanna say. we don't get too much content of her but damn her backstory hits hard. it adds so much to her character and i love her a lot idea for a story: she and fukuzawa go shopping together. i think she also deserves some fics w fukuzawa. they have a fun time !! unpopular opinion: not a fan of kousano favorite relationship: her and ranpo's. siblings your honor, absolute siblings, ALSO THAT ONE SCENE IN HER BACKSTORY WHERE HE KNEELS DOWN TO HER AND SHES CRYING AND SJJSDHHFBBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA favorite headcanon: aro/ace yosano is cool. very cool. aro/ace yosano.? holds her out to you. Consider

#lou *throws you a breadcrumb*#ask game #bsd

9 notes · View notes

meet-me-in-the-pouringrain · 2 years ago

Text

The Phoenix and The Rocket

Chapter 4

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Emily Prentiss, at the insistent of her therapist, signs up for a trauma bonding site. She never expected that her trauma bond would connect her back to her old boss and the man she’s been in love with for over ten years.

Also the man she’s absolutely furious at for leaving.

Edit : Since publishing I have been made aware that the term ‘Trauma Bonding’ is actually an abuse tactic and doesn’t mean ‘bonding over shared trauma’. Would like to make it clear that was a very strong mistake on my part and I apologise deeply for any offence.

Read Below the cut :)

Days fade into weeks and weeks turn into months.

They correspond on a bi-weekly basis now, as much as Emily's schedule allows them too. The morning after they officially became Buddies, Emily sends an apology message for her drunk rambles and gratitude at his response. Aaron responds in earnest, giving her thanks and dismissing her own, and life moved on. Emily pesters him with questions and he answers them with patience, no issue or frustration on his end. In return, he pokes around her evasiveness and manages to tear down the wall she hides behind, making her open up more than she ever has. To a complete stranger no less.

The last person who made her do that was Hotch, and she feels a pang of odd betrayal whenever she realises that, as if she's betraying him whenever Rocket knocks down a brick.

They really bond over the fact they had false identities forced on them. Aaron shares that it's hard to get out of the habit of Frank, that he has trouble decoding where Frank starts and He ends. Emily offers advice (She's been through it a number of times after all) and insight.

Emily helps him realise that Frank and Aaron can co-exist and they don't need to fight a war. She helps him see that the best parts of Frank are the best parts of him.

In return, he's there for when she has a tough case and advises her on how to take things day by day.

Before, she'd have a habit of ignoring it and putting it off until she physically couldn't and then she'll break.

He opens up about his father, She her mother.

She tells him about her guilty pleasure in Emo-Rock bands, He returns with his passion for 60s music.

Eventually, they're no longer dumping on each other and they’re exchanging food recipes and recommendations and just sometimes messaging each other when they've got nothing to do.

The pair of them feel better about their baggage than they have in years and it truly shows. Emily doesn't snap at Luke or Dave as much anymore, she even stopped overloading Reid's case file. Aaron isn't as argumentative about Jack/Max anymore and only slips up after days in public where he's been forced to call him by the wrong name.

As much as they hate to admit it, Jack and Emily's therapist were right and it did make them better people.

It's 4 months into this exchange that she caves and pays $30 (a criminal charge quite frankly) for the app so she didn't have to open her laptop on the Jet. The website has a policy of exchanging personal details like emails or numbers. Everything has to remain entirely anonymous and there's certain things that'll get them flagged and/or their entire accounts deleted.

Which means that they'd lose contact with each other and neither of them can afford to do that.

It doesn't stop her team of nosy ass profilers noticing her happiness though. As evident by the smirks on JJ and Luke's faces when her phone pings as they leave a crime scene in Utah and she immediately yanks it out of her back pocket.

"Ooo" Luke cooes. "Prentiss has a boyfriend" He sings, climbing into the drivers seat.

Emily scoffs at him like he's the most ridiculous thing she's ever faced as she yanks open the passenger door. JJ is forced to sit in the back when the police officer peels off in the cruiser without waiting for her. "What are you five?" She asks, rolling her eyes. She tilts away from Luke and Jj's wandering eyes as she unlocks her phone.

RocketRacoon : I just had an argument with my son. Peanut butter. Smooth or Crunchy?

RocketRacoon : It's make or break question.

RocketRacoon : Our entire Buddyship relies on this.

Emily couldn't help the snicker that escaped her at the seriousness.

PhoenixPren : Yikes I better think long and hard.

PhoenixPren : Who are we kidding, obviously smooth.

She didn't notice JJ move to stare daggers at her phone.

RocketRaccon : Thank you! Why would you want CRUNCH? IN PENUT BUTTER?

PhoenixPren : Only criminals and serial killers.

PhoenixPren : You spelt Peanut wrong btw

Aaron chortles loudly and unexpectedly at that response. He shakes his head, thinking to himself inside jokes that only he and his old friends would know. He lifts his eyes up and jumps back.

Jack is standing at the kitchen counter, broken arm having been upgraded from a sling to a pliable cast thats been signed with 'Max' over 15 times, with a knife in his hand and a bread smeared with peanut butter. He's staring at his dad with a mixture of confusion and terror.

"What?" Aaron asks defensively, twisting in his seat to just see the wall behind him.

Jack grins then, shaking his head like he knew something. "Nothing" He says coyly.

"What?!"

Jack shakes just head again, biting his sandwich. "It's just" He says behind a mouthful. "I haven't heard you laugh like that." His tone is quiet. "Ever."

Aaron considers his words thoughtfully. He supposed he's right, he hardly laughs anymore. He marvels at his Buddy's way of getting him to do that and comes to the shocking realisation that the only one who's ever made him chuckle like the way Phoenix does is her.

He swallows thickly at the thought before shaking his head and closing his laptop rather forcefully. He moves to help Jack pour a drink, pushing that thought out of his mind.

<~>

“Prentiss has a boyfriend” Luke sings again as they congregate around the conference table and it takes everything in her not to slap the shit out of him. JJ is typing on her phone, glancing up at times with a smirk on her face, and Tara’s phone pings coincidentally. Spencer is in the middle of plotting points on a map with Matt and Dave rolls his eyes.

“Get back to the case” Emily snaps, shoving his shoulder a little as she walks past him to stand at Reid’s map. “So this UNSUB. He takes woman from brightly lit areas, he’s confident. But not too confident to scare them of-“

“So who is he?” Dave interrupts, making Tara snort.

Emily blinks. “He’s an UNSUB, Dave” She replies slowly.

“You’re dating an UNSUB?”

Emily’s hand comes down on the oak of the table, leaving a sting on her hand and echo in the room. Matt actually jumps and spills coffee on himself, JJ’s phone clicks off and Spencer awkwardly turns away back to his map.

“Enough!” Emily barks, expertly hiding a wince at how much she’d hurt her hand. “I am not dating anybody” She hisses. “I am working a case and trying to save the life another another woman. Get back to work!”

“Yes ma’am” A few of them chorus, making her internally cringe. She hates how JJ’s teasing look falls into a professional mask, how Spencer flinches away from her, how Dave even bows his head with a mumbled apology.

She chews on her fingernail as she watched her team work in tense silence. Finally, the boys leave for field work and leave the girls in the room. Emily watches JJ and Tara shoot looks at her out of the corner of her eye for five minutes, both of them trying to discreetly text Penelope.

“If you MUST know” She breaks, yanking her phone out of her pocket and launching it on the table. Tara pulls back and is the one to scoop it up before JJ could lunge for it. She doesn’t attempt to unlock it though and gingerly holds it in her hand. “I signed up to that stupid trauma website.”

“What?” JJ asks, pulling a face. “Wha- that Trauma Buddies thing?”

She vaguely recalls Penelope talking about it to Spencer, saying that she explored it and her heart hurts for all those people.

Tara makes a noise, shoving Emily’s phone back to her. “Oh Em” She tuts, sympathetically.

Emily collapses into Matt’s abandoned chair and rubs at her face tiredly. “Don’t, it’s okay” She sighs. “I mainly went on there to see other stories, my therapist told me to do it.” She shrugs. “I saw this guy and his story is…” Emily huffs a breath with wide eyes. “A lot. So I reached out and we’ve been talking ever since.”

JJ and Tara share a look, a silent understanding of their friend.

Emily thinks about telling them Rocket’s story but immediately forgoes that idea. Telling them would feel like betraying him. Sure he put his story out on the internet for strangers to see but that doesn’t mean she can go ahead and tell some other people what’s his to tell.

No, she can’t betray Rocket like that.

“We get it” JJ says finally, smiling. “I’m glad that you have that.”

Sure, she’s a little jealous Emily turned to an internet stranger than her. But she’s also mature enough to know that a stranger over a phone screen is a lot less intimidating than someone sitting in front of you. She’s also aware that for the majority of Emily’s journey, she had been there for the traumatic moments.

Cyrus where she got hit in the head, That one case where she got into a car accident and hit her head, The other time she got hit in the head.

She’s been hit in the head a lot.

Then obviously Doyle

And finally, Losing Hotch. Not one, but maybe three times. When she ‘died’, When she came back but he had found solace in Beth and when he left.

Of course, they knew about her feelings for their ex boss. Ever since Penelope got her drunk on the green fairy and she blurted it out during a game of Fuck Marry Kill they were all way to old to be playing.

JJ’s not even sure Emily remembers that night, the amount she drank probably kept the run down bar afloat for a day or two alone. She’ll never bring it up in a million years because she knows her friend with just deny it vehemently. But she can’t deny the hurt or anger that flickers behind her eyes whenever someone mentions his name.

Emily smiles weakly. “Don’t tell the boys?” She pleads.

“Oh never in a million years” Tara chuckles, shaking her head. “I don’t think Dave will let you hear the end of it.”

<~>

“Is it a girl?”

Aaron startles in his bedroom, flinching forward. He turns to find Jack standing in the doorway looking awkward.

“I’m sorry?” He asks, frowning.

Jack fidgets with his belt and then his cast for a moment before sighing. “Your laughter before” He swallows. “was it because of a girl?” He asks quietly.

Since Beth, his father hadn’t dated anyone, not that he’s aware of. It’s strange, to Jack, the idea of his father actually dating somone. He supposes it’s only weird because it had been ten plus years since his mothers death, Beth was around for maybe half a year at most.

But still, it’s fuckin weird.

Aaron sighs, looking at him with a hooded gaze. He can’t lie to him. “Yes” He admits, wincing at the way Jack sucks in a breath. “But not in the way you think.” He amends quickly.

Jack pulls a face now. “Huh?”

“We’re not dating” Aaron launches into everything, how Phoenix messaged him after a couple of days after Jack signed him up. How they became buddies, How she helps him with the Frank dilemma, how they moved on and are now basically pen pals. He thinks about Phoenix’s story and ultimately decides against telling his son all that.

Jack’s been through enough, he doesn’t need to know a strangers plight either.

Besides, Phoenix still hasn’t made a public post and he’d be a liar if he said he wasn’t filled with sick, selfish satisfaction and pride at the fact he and only he had managed to get her to open up and that he was possibly the only person to know that’s much.

When he’s finished, Jack is grinning smugly. “Told you” He mumbles. Aaron just rolls his eyes. “That’s great dad.” His son grins. “What’s her username?”

“Don’t go looking for her” Aaron warns, glaring. Jack holds his good hand up with an eye roll.

“Relax” He says. “I haven’t opened the site since I dumped”.

Jack’s therapist got him to the website in the first place, that’s how he knew about it. Aaron eyes his son with suspicion before giving in.

“PhoenixPren” He admits finally. Jack pauses for a second, thinking over the name before smiling.

“Okay” He nods.

“Goodnight, Jack” Aaron states, playfully frustrated. “Busy day tomorrow. We gotta start packing up the house.” He tells him softly.

Jack grins. “I still can’t believe you agreed to move back to Alexandra” He says, making Aaron laugh and agree. He was still in shock he agreed himself. Jack yawns and moves to leave. Aaron pulls back the bedsheets to climb into bed. “Hey” He pauses, poking his head back in. “It wouldn’t be so bad, you know.”

Aaron peers at him, confused. “What wouldn’t?” He asks.

Jack shrugs. “You. Dating.” He says before disappearing without a reply. He shuts the door to his fathers room firmly and pads to his own.

Aaron blinks at the wood before a smirk broke out on his face and he chuckles to himself. He glances out of the window. “He gets that from you.” He states with a grin, his eyes following as the leaves in the trees rustle back at him.

On the other end of the hallway, Jack flops down in bed with a grin. “PhoenixPren” He says to himself. “Real subtle, Miss Emily.” He laughs to himself and flicks his lamp off.

Word Count : 2282

tag list : @lonelychicagos @84hotpockets @serqueljisbon @loriprentiss @velvetblackness @castielryan

if you would like to join or leave the taglist, feel free to shoot me a dm ❤️

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #hotchniss #agent hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch #agent prentiss #emily prentiss fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotchniss fanfiction #The Phoenix and The Rocket

36 notes · View notes