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rin-may-1103 · 1 month ago

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Turn Back the Frozen Sands of Time

(I couldn't come up with a better title, lol, so we're stuck with this.)

unadulteratedsoulsweets's Prompt | Master Post | Next

Danny didn't startle awake; he didn't gasp for unnecessary breath; he didn't cry out in pain.

No, Danny woke to the sound of nothing; the sound of wind calmly crawling through stone halls, of dust drifting through the silent air, of birds singing songs off in the distance.

This was a silence he hadn't heard in years. And for all the pain that the silence brought, he couldn't help but hold his breath, the little spark of hope settling in his heart, no, his core.

He's had years to hate, yell, and ignore his childhood. Years to accept what had been done to him. Years to forgive.

Years to grieve what had been and what could have been.

Years to wish for a chance to go back.

Years to accept he'd never would, and move on.

Opening his eyes, Danny looked at his childhood room in confused wonder. It was just as he remembered: nothing had moved from where he had left it. Loose papers scattered across an intricate desk, weapons displayed proudly on the stone walls, bright colorful paint, and tiles embedded into the stone with tedious hard work. His little jar of rocks and twigs he kept on his shelf. The horde of sweets was tucked behind books, like he had just recently added to his stash.

If he hadn't known any better, he could almost convince himself it had all been a dream. Like he hadn't walked out of this room eight years ago, walked to his first death, and right into The Fentons' arms. Like he could walk out that door and greet his brother like he had so many times before.

But he knew better; he's lived through dreams and false realities. He knows what twisted wishes and curses act like, feel like.

this wasn't a dream, this wasn't a damn wish, this was real. It was all horrifically, unbearably, dreadfully real.

And that scared him.

because he remembered being in the Ghost Zone, remembered hopping from rocky island to island in a game of tag with Dani. Remembered pranking the observants for being stuffy old geezers. Remembered hugging Clockwork and darting around the halls just to annoy the ghost. Remembered finally mastering animated Ice sculptures and sending an ice raccoon to fly to the far frozen just so Frostbite would know what he had accomplished.

But he didn't remember how he got here.

How he had gotten out of the zone, across the planet, and into a room deep inside a fortified fortress built by a cult his grandfather had led for several centuries.

One moment he had been testing just how far Fright Knight would go to follow him, and the next he's WAKING up here.

Moving to sit up, Danny froze.

His clothes were different.

He wasn't wearing his typical old tee and ripped blue jeans, nor was he wearing Tucker's hoodie and Sam's lacy skirt she'd finally convinced him to wear.

No, he was wearing a very familiar outfit. One that should be too small for him to fit in after all these years, one that had been mostly destroyed and discarded.

Sitting up, Danny stared in horror at his body. He was in his favorite deep blue and black Kurta, but that wasn't all.

No, no.

He was small.

Well, smaller. (Who knew dying multiple times would stunt his growth?) Like, as in he was eight or nine years old, small, as small as he had been when he had died, small.

If this was real (and it was, he knew it deep down in his core), then he couldn't waste any time panicking. Even after eight years, his daily routine was ingrained into his mind; wake up thirty minutes early, sneak out into the garden to watch the sunrise, sneak back in, get caught by his brother, go to breakfast, lessons, lunch, training, dinner, training, leave to go to bed but sneak out to star gaze, sneak back in and sleep.

The sun wasn't up yet, but it was close, which meant he needed to hurry if he didn't want anyone to get suspicious. Naturally, everyone knew he snuck out in the morning(he had made it wear they'd underestimate him, to make it easier to sneak out at night), so if he wasn't seen by his mother's spies and then caught by his brother, they'd know something was up. They probably wouldn't guess (what? Time travel? That's the only thing that's making sense, but then why is he small?) to be the problem, but they would know something was up and therefore, make it impossible for Danny to investigate it by himself.

Getting up, Danny grabbed a new pair of socks, snatched his special league tabi boots, and the blue strips of fabric he used almost every day. Pulling his socks on, then his boots, he carefully folded the extra fabric of his churidar and wrapped the blue strips tightly around. just like he had been taught.

Standing up, he snagged a few small knives (he always left his katana, he was supposed to be sneaking out to sight see, not fight) and stashed them on his body. It amazes him how easily he slipped back into his old habits; how easily he concealed his weapons, how he automatically silenced his footsteps as he left his room, how he pretended not to notice his mother's spies watching him.

He was acting on muscle memory from eight years ago, yet he didn't even falter as he turned down winding halls and up steep stairs.

Maybe he wasn't using eight years of dusty muscle memory.

Maybe he was using nine years of ingrained habit.

Maybe he was in his actual nine-year-old body.

It would explain how his memory of the day before was almost crystal clear now, how he remembered that there wasn't anything special planned for today, how his brother had been teasing him about his horrible stance in training. Crystal clear, just like his memory of playing with Dani, not even twelve hours ago.

It was like the present him was merged with the past him's body and mind. (Would that make his memories square? memory^2? Like they're both his memories, just one's fresher than the other, but now they feel... More? Tucker would know. It doesn't hurt, but man, was this weird.)

Finally making his way into the garden, Danny turned and scaled the stone walls, his fingers turning slightly red due to the frosty cold air and rocks.

Once at his usual spot, Danny turned and sat down, watching as the sky grew brighter and brighter. Hopefully the spies don't question his delay, maybe they'll chalk it up to him needing a little more sleep. he had pushed himself in training the day before.

Ok, focus on his situation.

What are the facts?

He had been in the ghost zone, nothing was out of the ordinary, and then he was suddenly waking up in his nine-year-old body, his childhood memories revived like he had just lived them(because he technically had, apparently), and he couldn't let anyone know something was wrong. (partly to keep the timeline intact, and partly because assassins get very... pointed when things aren't like how they're supposed to be.)

From his memories, he knows there is nothing extra planned for today. It's a typical boring day in the league. The most exciting thing that could happen is his mother stopping by to teach him instead of his normal mentors. But she did that three days ago, so chances are close to zilch.

Oh, and if his older memories are to be trusted, he is three or four days away from his first death.

Ok, Danny. Take a deep breath.

You've been sent back in time, somehow.

The most obvious cause: Clockwork.

But if he was the one responsible, then there should be a note, and you'd remember why and exactly how you got sent back. Clockwork time travel doesn't typically involve de-aging, and there wasn't a note.

So not Clockwork.

But if not Clockwork, then who and why?

He'd say another ghost broke in and maybe stole one of Clockwork's time manipulation stuff and used it on him, but that wouldn't make sense for multiple reasons. First, most ghosts who have enough audacity to pull a stunt like this, either refrain from doing so because Danny's the king or because they'd rather use their own stuff to screw with him.

Secondly, Clockwork wouldn't just let anyone steal from him, let alone use the stolen stuff against Danny.

So, not a ghost(or other realms being), or at least not one Danny knows of. But the likely hood of a random ass ghost/being doing this was still bogus because of reason number two.

So, that left living beings.

Who among the living would be powerful enough to affect-

"Danyal,"

Danny tensed; he knew that voice. He hated that voice. He's missed that voice. Glancing down with a frown, Danny stared at his brother.

no matter what he wanted to do (stangle him, hug him, cry, laugh, yell), he had to act normal, and normal nine-year-old Danyal al Ghul would be annoyed and confused that his morning sunrise was being interrupted, yet nervous because he'd been 'caught'. Normal nine-year-old Danyal al Ghul was 'weak' and 'innocent'. Or, well, compared to his brother, that is. (he knows now that nine-year-old him was nowhere near normal compared to everyone else.)

Damian was staring up at him, his body tense and eyes sharp with something Danny couldn't place. He looked upset, if Danny was being honest. But why would he be upset?

wait.

A memory from yesterday popped up; Damian had stolen his favorite knife, teasing him for failing to hit the target dead on like he could. Danny had stolen his shuko hand claws in retaliation.

"I swear I didn't do it," Danny blurted, glancing around to see his escape routes. He had two, the other side of the roof, or risk trying to get past Damian and back inside.

Damian blinked, looking thrown off for a second, his brows furrowed, "Do what?"

Danny glanced back, forcing his body to nervously shift, "Take your shuko claws." (Present him would have never given himself away like this, but past Danny had no brain-to-mouth filter and enough anxiety to fuel a rocket ship, which usually led to him being a horrible liar.)

Damian was silent for a moment, closing his eyes as if he were pained. "That's not," he started, before stopping and taking a deep breath to center himself.

This was weird. Danny didn't remember an interaction like this happening. what was going on? had something changed? had he screwed up the timeline by not getting outside fast enough?

"I'm not mad at you," Damian continued, finally opening his eyes and staring up at him with a blank face.

"You're not?" Danny asked, moving to make it look like he was ready to bolt at any moment. (It wasn't hard to act like it when he truly did feel like he should run.)

"No, I wanted to know if," Damian paused, pursing his lips just slightly. It was his thinking face, the face he only got when he really was panicking about what to do next. Why was he panicking?

"If?" Danny pushed, slowly leaning forward and weighing the pros and cons of jumping down and being face to face with him.

"If you," Damian started slowly, "would allow me to join you."

Danny blinked, then blinked again. (Damian was acting weird, what the hell? Wait? Has he been misinterpreting his brother this whole time? Was he always catching Danny as he snuck back in because he wanted to join him? wait, no, focus, Danny!)

"Sure!" Danny smiled, patting the roof next to him. Nine-year-old Danyal would be ecstatic if his brother wanted to join him. So ecstatic in fact, he might even start ranting about everything he knew about the sun. (Present Danny was also about to start ranting, just more out of nervousness than excitement.)

Shaking his hands to get rid of the excess energy (excited energy because, even if Danny never forgave his brother for what happened, he still loved him, and spending even just a moment with him was like a dream come true), Danny beamed as his brother hauled himself up onto the roof and sat down.

"Did you know the sun has layers?" Danny blurted, turning to glance up at the mountains around them. Technically, the sun was up, but it still hadn't broken over the mountain ridge. Ancients, he never realized how much he missed the peaceful mornings here in Nanda Parbat.

"Really?" Damian asked softly, turning to watch the sun rise as well. A new bird song broke out, their chirps and whistles echoing off the rocky walls and building a symphony for just the two of them to enjoy.

Danny wasn't sure what he had done to change things, but maybe, just maybe, he could be selfish and not worry for just a moment. He wanted to enjoy the precious little time he had with his twin, even if the knowledge of what would happen in three days hung over his head.

Damian turned to look at him again, his green eyes focused intently on Danny's face, and with a smile that Danny's very rarely seen, asked, "Can you tell me about them?"

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dc x dp #dpxdc #dp x dc #dcxdp #part one #batman #dp x dc crossover #Sand of Time Au #time travel #i'm not sure if i used the right terms for his clothes #but i'm too tired to look it up #are there spelling mistakes? most definitly

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scrivenger-grimgar · 2 months ago

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svsss x tgcf crossover where shen yuan is so dedicated to making sure his blorbos get everything they deserve.

shen yuan dies cursing out pidw as normal but he ends up in tgcf.

the book was his meimei's favorite and they both read each others favorites so they could yell about them together. he did not expect to end up loving this danmei so much, and shi qingxuan was his queer reality check. did he figure out that he was aroace-spec from relating to xie lian? yes. does he want to talk about it? no.

when he dies cursing out pidw he SHOULD have ended up there, but there was a glitch in the system and he ended up in a little village in tgcf. he knows all the plot points and character names, but he doesn't know where or when he is in the plot and he really wants to give his blorbos everything they deserve but he is a toddler.

so he just,,, lives. he knows he wont be able to cultivate, his family can't afford to send him to a sect, and his village doesn't have much outside of the basics. so when his family caught him teaching other kids abd realized that shen yuan could read? AND write?? AND do math!!?? well...

"meng po said i didnt need any soup." becomes the first lie he tells. he is so glad he retained his resting bitch face.

they think he might ascend as some legendary civil god. shen yuan knows he wont. and he doesnt.

his days are spent teaching other children, learning from the village craftsmen, listening to the brothel jiejies play music, panicking about his blorbos, and planning.

in his teens he becomes the village's official teacher, and officially apprentices under a cloth weaver and learns to make paper and ink.

part of him tells himself that he's learning these things ti help his family, another part says its to keep his mind off the plot.

his second death is uneventful, mostly because nobody actually realizes that he's dead. his parents were old, and his elder sister already married out, so he lived alone for 5 years already. dead at 27 due to a house fire, yet his soul is already strong enough to be wrath.

he comes to the very fair assumption that its simply due to his status not as a reincarnator, but as a millenial. the sheer amount of depression and existential dread he faced as a physically disabled terminally ill millenial in the corporate hell that is the post capitalist corporate purgatory primed his being as one that simply cultivated resentment like a finely aged wine.

but he so geniunely enjoyed teaching and learning that he just. never told anyone that he was dead. it completely slipped his mind as unimportant because he knows that ghosts in this world are just humans a bit to the left, and since he is still the same person as before, is just as much of a ghost as he was before, knows that he can still teach and learn the same as before. it doesn't change anything for him.

he just picks up his ashes, apprentices himself to the village potter, makes himself a new tea set, and weaves a beatiful tapestry dedicated to the only god who can truly do no wrong, yushi huang.

he continues teaching and learning, and genuinely caring for his village, carefully, carfully making sure he does not hurt his people, making sure he does not scare them.

the way his people discover he is a ghost is not pretty, but neither is it ugly.

a nobleman was in town to rest the night with his entourage of guards. one young lady working the local brothel is harrassed by the guards, so nervous she trips and spills wine on the young master.

the nobleman, covered in wine, tipsy and enraged, grabs her and throws her to the ground, yelling at her to grovel and apologise; he does not notice the hateful gaze of shen yuan, once playing a delicate tune only moments before.

shen yuan wants to stop this, but that would definitely reveal him as more than human. the choice is taken from him as this stranger has the gall to step on one of his own students, he feels his patience snap in the stunned silence of the entertainment hall.

faster than possible for any mortal, he stands by them, holding the nobleman by the front of his stupid fancy robes, panicked babbling about that bitch having her man-whore friend doom himself to suffer both their fates. one of the guards stabs shen yuan through the chest.

there is screaming as the village's beloved teacher is run through, even as he ignores the wound and drags the nobleman from the building, the guards running after them. shen yuan takes the entire group out to the forest with only the nobleman as bait, and uses the silence if the night as a backdrop for the unrelenting slaughter of 15 people.

when he returns, he is covered in blood, carrying everything they had on them. the word has spread. their teacher is something else. but that wasn't nesicarily bad. the nobleman's rescources are stripped of identity and spread amongst the villagers. shen yuan has not harmed them, only stepping in when one of them was in harm's way. they have known him for 30 years, they know he is nothing if not kind.

so he protects them. because they have always been his family. so for centuries he does. he watches his peers as they grow old and die, caring after their children and grandchildren and great grandchildren. he is their teacher. he is their uncle. he is their ---.

there was a period of time where the town thought shen yuan took on a heveanly tribulation only to reject godhood and return to the village. shen yuan tried to tell people that wasn't true, that he never became a god or refused godhood, that he was simply trapped in a mountain for a decade, stewing in a pot of resentment and accidentally becoming a ghost king.

he doesnt even know how he did that, just that apparently yoyos are similar enough to meteorhammers that he could apply the same concepts, and also that he had enough condenced rage and nerdiness to actually figure out anime moves with qi. so what if half of the ghosts in the kiln thought he was some kind of spider demon, he has cool threads that he can use to kill you.

and actually fuck you, spiders are pretty damn cool!

it starts not long after that. the prayers. his people are praying to him, as if he's some kind of god.

thats when he realizes. he can pray to the gods. he can pray to the gods, and they will only ever know the temple it came from. and really he's spent so long worrying over not just his blorbos but also his whole village, and really what is he if not an anonymous millenial internet troll.

and so it begins.

(remember to check reblogs for more!)

#mxtx tgcf #mxtx #mxtx svsss #svsss #scum villian self saving system #heaven official's blessing #heaven's official blessing #hob #tian guan ci fu #shen yuan #svsss au #ghost king shen yuan #shen yuan being a troll #green silk weaving fates

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shadykazama · 10 months ago

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Sun Wukong/The destined one (mostly relationship) headcanons!

The people have spoken and the people crave monkey business. So let's get down to it!

❤

Post journey Wukong is a wiser, stronger monkey, but don't let him fool you he's still a trickster at heart.

When you first meet, he has you refer to him as 'Great Sage'.

Earning the right to say his given name isn't so much a big moment as it is just him beginning to care for you. You slip up, whether it be because you were sick or injured or just not thinking, and he doesn't correct you. In fact he kind of likes it.

He doesn't make a big deal out of it, but if you watch closely you can see his tail twitch and his eyes lost in thought.

One character flaw you'll have to deal with, even when you're just friends, is Wukong thinks he knows what's best. He's old and wisened and POWERFUL; if he thinks he knows something will be best for you, he'll do it without so much as telling you.

Credit to Hanibalistic! Their one shot about Wukong and stealing an immortal peach for a mortal reader was perfect and exactly how I think he'd act! That impulsive, "I care about this person and will do what I think is best for them regardless of the consequences or their opinion" is very... him.

Hey, we all have our flaws. (Just don't tell him that.)

On the positive side, he wouldn't let a scratch befall you. At some point you'll stop instinctually defending yourself because of how safe you feel with him. Which is heavily ironic considering how often he himself will put you in dangerous situations just to pull a prank.

But besides your poor heart from getting scared so often, you have nothing to worry about. Wukong won't leave room for even one mistake to slip by him.

Expect him to never call you by your name, almost ever. He chronically tends to call people by titles or nicknames. From calling the tang monk, master, or how he'd call Bajie 'idiot' for most of the book- just expect something. He'd only refer to you by name if he were really serious.

Something I personally find really funny that isn't represented in many medias with him is that he's OLD. He's old as hell and he knows it. In the book he'll often refer to basically everyone as 'nephew' or 'little brother' which is oddly endearing and also really funny.

I feel as though most people don't utilize how heavy he is- even in movies and stuff. His staff is like thousands of pounds! You aren't moving him unless he wants you to. God forbid you end up cuddling. Even while resting I never think he'd put his full weight on you, but you'd definitely be stuck.

Will never refuse to help you, but will tease you endlessly for needing it. "Helpless little thing aren't you?"

His love language is gift giving and acts of service.

He's impulsive with words, but look at how he treats you and you'll see how he cares.

Considering his connections, expect to have the world at your fingertips. He'll never leave you wanting, you'll always be satisfied. There is no gift beyond his reach. Just be careful what you ask for, because he WILL get it one way or another.

He is a king, a leader- it's basically second nature to be serviced, and that's why it's so important how he acts toward you. For you, he stays vigilant, ready to catch you if you fall or feed you when you're hungry. For you, he'll carry you in his arms if you're tired. For you he'd put himself in servitude.

Monkeys also show affection to one another by grabbing at each other for attention, and grooming one another's hair.

I don't think he'd have any trouble getting your attention, he's very vocal! So he'd focus more on your hair. Don't be surprised if he randomly starts combing through with his fingers or just playing with it. It's calming for him, and another form of affection.

You've changed him for the better... And for the worse. He happier, more content and occupied (which is good for everyone). BUT, should you ever disappear or get stolen from him he would surely devastate heaven and earth to get you back. The last thing anyone needs is another, more wrathful, Wukong rampage.

Expect to get shown off at every convenience! You're his king/queen and he'll make sure everyone knows it.

You have the BIGGEST wedding. And I think the best part would've been the Chuangmen, which is a wedding game tradition, usually meant for the groom to prove his loyalty, devotion, and desire to marry the bride by completing tests made by her bridesmaids. There are a ton of really interesting Chinese wedding traditions that I would recommend reading about, but with the sheer power of Wukong, these challenges in particular could've been absolutely ridiculous!

Wukong isn't jealous, no that would be ridiculous, he has nothing to fear. That by no means doesn't mean that he doesn't get offended on your behalf. He's gotten upset at not being greeted properly, there's no way in HELL he doesn't get pissed if someone were to flirt with you. They're lucky if all he does is kill them.

Feel free to make fun of him for not being able to swim. He'll absolutely make you regret it, but do it anyway it'll be funny.

Am I the only one that thinks he'd be great with kids? 🤚

Like COME ON- the dude probably helps take care of the baby monkeys on his mountain. He tells them cool stories to get them riled up. Will lay down and let them play with his hair while you read or sing to him.

Give this man kids I dare you.

That's a topic for a different post 😌

Likes kissing you on the top of the head, will also lay his forehead against yours just to be close to you.

These two designs I really like for him! Y'all let me know in the comments which version is your favorite <3

💙

The destined one may look like Wukong, but they're certainly different in... most areas.

Being selectively mute makes things a good share more difficult to communicate with him than Wukong, but it has it's charms.

You'd just been... tagging along with him. He didn't mind, unlike the wolves and undead he'd been beating through, you proved no threat to him.

He figured you would just leave on your own- or die. But by some miracle even he didn't understand, you stuck by him through rain and dust storms alike. By the time you made it to the New West he felt obligated to keep you around.

For the first time since you started following him, you were actually in danger. And to both of your surprises, he dropped what he was doing to protect you.

Don't bother asking him why. Whether you do, or simply tell him thank you, he'll just wave you off. But you notice him walking closer to you than normal after that. No longer were you left to catch up with him while he sprinted off; he'd keep stride with you now, glancing at you every now and then.

He CAN talk, and he probably surprises you the first time he does. It's not even for something important. It's just one fateful night where you happen to decide to mess with his hair. You'd pull away after a moment and he'd rumble out a little, "Don't stop."

Now that you KNOW he can talk, it's even more annoying when he refuses to answer you.

He finds it amusing when you get frustrated with him about it. He can't help it. The whole time you're grumbling or ranting at him, he's just staring at you with his stoic face... thinking about how cute you are.

Feel free to give him a name. Not like he'll argue with whatever you pick-

But really, please call him something other than "the destined one". He'd never really needed a name before, but he'd treasure whatever you decide to call him.

He probably has a nickname for you too, he just only says it in his head...

Will click his tongue at you to get your attention. (Absolutely does the 'tsk tsk tsk' thing people do to call their cats)

Speaking of getting your attention- ^ remember how monkeys show affection by just kind of grabbing each other and squeezing and pressing their head against each other?

Yeeeeah. He's a touchy monkey. He won't ask for affection, so he kind of just does it himself. Will rub his head on you, not unlike how cats or rabbits do to mark things they like. Except he's just doing it to be affectionate.

Gets cuteness aggression and WILL just grab you.

If it wasn't obvious, his love languages are physical touch and quality time.

Doesn't need help putting armor on, but if you want to help he won't stop you. (The closeness makes his heart beat fast)

If you were ever both in a bad spot- being threatened and not in a place to put up a good fight, he'd cover your body with his and bare his fangs at whatever was trying to hurt you guys to intimidate it. (It probably wouldn't work- but it's an instinctual response.)

If your feet got cold in the snow in the New West he'd pick you up and let you rest on his back for awhile.

Likes when you rely on him like that, it makes him feel stronger. And besides it just "being his destiny", knowing you'll get hurt if he loses helps him focus during fights.

Terribly jealous individual.

The glare he would give someone is straight up deadly. Watch out for how his tail flicks around when he's irritated too 🤭.

Absolutely adores the sound of your voice, it could bring him out of a coma fr.

Doesn't mind being little or big spoon, he just likes cuddling. Wraps his tail around you when you do.

Always always makes sure you eat before he does, even though he's the one doing all the fighting.

Will let you win play fights (most of the time).

Hearing him laugh is the cutest thing ever I swear- It probably took you off guard the first time you manage it.

Doesn't know how to take compliments.

Probably short circuited the first time you complimented his appearance.

Very gentle, slow kisser. Likes having you in his lap, but will grab cheeky kisses every now and then too. Will tilt your chin up when you kiss, every time.

Art by @marcu-bug

#sun wukong #black myth wukong #the destined one #headcanons #x reader #journey to the west #sun wukong x reader #the destined one x reader

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calypso-apologist · 2 months ago

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hii

Could you do a odysseus nsfw alphabet too? 👉👈 thank u

in one sitting, by the way.

Odysseus NSFW Alphabet ♡

Template by @/the-coldest-goodbye.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

King of Ithaca and Aftercare. He always has everything you might need prepared before he actually suggests having sex and always makes sure he tends to you afterwards.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His? Probably his arms and chest. He likes feeling your body against his as he embraces you tightly.

Yours? First of all, how dare you expect him to pick favorites??? Your eyes. He could just sit there, looking into them for years. Days, even.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Very thick. Usually takes a solid minute or two with each orgasm just to get it all out.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He cannot keep anything that smells like you on him because he will get hard if he smells it one too many times. It was incredibly embarrassing to explain and he will get all red if you tease him about it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He's experienced with you, if it makes sense. You two have learned everything together. He knows your body perfectly.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything that means you're close and he gets to look into your eyes is good in his book, but I think his favorite would just be the good old missionary, honestly.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He's a mix of both in the most loving, affectionate way. He's not completely serious, but not completely goofy, either. It's like the golden middle.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Pretty well groomed, trimmed relatively often to keep it nice and short for you. Much darker than his actual hair, but not dark enough to be considered black.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

All in. Fully. This man is locked in, focused on you entirely. The world could be on fire, but as long as you want him focused on you, he might as well burn alive just to keep making love to you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He (600) strikes me as one of those men who feels guilty about jacking off because he subconsciously thinks about it as cheating, so I'm gonna say he probably doesn't really do that.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Vanilla motherfucker. I see no kinks in this man. His only kink is his love for his partner.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He's a sap. He loves your wedding bed. There's no better place than your bed.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You exist. That's it. That's all he needs.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Threesomes, cucking, basically anything that involves another person joining. This man is strictly monogamous, you cannot convince him to even consider another person joining you.

Also, anything that means you're in pain or even the slightest bit of discomfort is out. Not ifs or buts, if it can do anything you won't like, he will die before he tries it.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Definitely prefers giving. He's decent with it, not some incredible master of the craft, but he'll keep you very satisfied. He doesn't mind receiving, but he'll always insist on returning the favor.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual all the way. And even when he is fast, it's not so much rough as it is just... him being needy when he gets closer to orgasm.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He's not exactly opposed, but he does prefer regular sex. But if this is the best he can get when you two sneak away for a moment, so be it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Listen. I'm not saying he would do absolutely anything you asked him to aside from the very few things I mentioned in the N section of the alphabet... But he would do absolutely anything you asked him to aside from the very few things I mentioned in the N section of the alphabet.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Solid three to four rounds on a good day, but he usually settles on one or two slower, more loving rounds. Can he last longer? Yeah, absolutely. But he prefers quality over quantity.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I dunno, I don't see it. Maybe a blindfold to make you feel everything stronger, but I feel lik even that would be reaching.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He's a service top or a bottom. "I don't tease, I just please" type of guy.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's not very loud during the act itself, he mostly lets out some low grunts and groans. When he cums, however, he lets out a much louder, slightly high pitched moan. It takes you off guard the first time.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

If he was capable of getting pregnant, Telemachus would have a sibling for each year you two are married. Just because he loves you so damn much and he would love to just make an army of mini-you.

I didn't know what to put here so you get mpreg.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

WHY DO I KEEP DOING THIS TO MYSELF I'M TOO ASEXUAL TO DESCRIBE SO MANY DICKS

Around five and a half inches when hard, relatively thick. Has a mole very close to the tip.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I mean... The Odyssey says something about how Athena asked Helios to make the night longer for him and Penelope when they re-united, right? So that should answer this one.

... I need to hurry up with my reading list and finally make it through the Odyssey.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Somehow, he's in complete sync with you. The moment you fall asleep, he falls asleep. So it depends on how quickly you fall asleep afterwards.

#ask #so-incognito #epic #epic musical #epic musical odysseus x reader #epic the musical #epic the musical x reader #epic the musical odysseus #odysseus #epic musical x reader #epic x reader #epic the musical odysseus x reader #odysseus x reader #epic odysseus #epic odysseus x reader #epic musical odysseus

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disastertwins9000 · 4 months ago

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random batbro hc time lets go

Dick, Jason and Tim all have their places away from the manor and i feel like they have a specific thing each one of them will do for their brothers when they get visited at their respective homes, just to take care of one another

when Jay or Tim show up to Dicks apartment they’ll get a hug or a shoulder pat and them immediately be examined for injuries, even if they aren’t dressed as vigilantes. they are getting a thorough pat down checking for the occasional bullet or stab wound, promptly followed by the offer of pain killers to take or not to take whether they need them or not. bruises, however old, get an ice pack and if they’re feeling stiff he’s cracking their back for them. “no Tim that bullet wound is in fact not ‘fine’ let me clean it you son of a bat!” “yes jason it is ‘our stab wound’. it became ours when you stepped through my front door.”

when Dick or Tim show up to Jason’s apartment for more then a few hours he’s going to make you take an everything shower (he has to explain what that is the first time he tells them) even if they aren’t coming to him bloodied and sweaty from patrol. He makes them do this because he knows that his brothers will go days at a time hyper-focused on their work and forget to wash their hair, shave their face, or put on the same shirts and pants after a shower because they didn’t do the laundry that week. He knows that when they step out of the bathroom with the clean clothes he keeps just for them and rejuvenated shampooed hair they will feel so much better. “see dick, your hair is wavy not straight! if you would just wash it more then once every month-“ “yeah so when you take care of yourself every day maybe you’ll have a ‘will to live’ more often Tim”

when Dick or Jason show up to Tim’s place he demands an impromptu naptime. His brothers and himself have shit sleep schedules, but Tim is a master napper and that’s how he gets through life as a vigilante. Jay or Dick will come over to work on a case or to hang out after a long patrol before they go their respective ways only for Tim to spawn in with his nap-time sweats and socks on (his feet get cold okay?) with a body pillow for Dick (he knows his brother likes to hug his pillow while he sleeps) and a comfort hoodie for Jason (and a book in case he needs help falling asleep) with an announcement of “It’s nap-time bitches.” And then he ushers them to the many different places to sleep he has in his apartment i.e. bed, giant beanbags, couches, ottoman. “tim please i’m almost done with this case report” “don’t give a shit.” *pulls out staff* “it’s nap-time.”

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gothamite-rambler · 4 months ago

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Jason: Bruce, I know we’ve made amends and I’m back in this insane family, and I’m well aware you tried to kill the Joker to avenge my honor. You didn’t go through with it, but still, there’s a lot to unpack here. I want that soldier memorial removed. I never wanted a statue that labels me as a damn child soldier.

Bruce: Yeah, I told Alfred the same thing. Honestly, I’m thinking we could replace it with photos of you, Dick, Tim, and Damian.

Jason: You told Alfred the same thing?

Bruce (swishing his Cognac in his glass): Alfred set up that memorial and included the soldier line. I hated it—not because it reminds me of you but because equating you to a soldier reduces the fact that you're my son who chose to fight alongside me. I may be emotionally distant, but I do love you. You were never a solider, you are my son.

Jason blinked, momentarily stunned, and turned away, coughing to maintain his composure. Bruce half-smiled, noticing his son misty-eyed.

Jason: Right, back to the Alfred comment. He put that up? Jesus, I know he’s old and things were different back then, but “soldier” for a teenage Robin? How is that okay?

Bruce: Alfred means well. He tends to do insane things without my approval. He made Tim a Robin after I vowed never to have another child sidekick.

Jason (shocked): What the hell?!

Bruce chuckled dryly as he drank the rest of his Cognac and poured another glass.

Bruce: Yeah, when you died in that explosion and I cradled your lifeless body, I thought about you—my sidekick, my son. I reflected on Dick and what he went through, how he was going low contact with me. I spiraled, thinking, “What kind of monster does this to his son? To the kids he claims to care about? I just buried a kid… a kid who lost his life before it even started.”

He downed the second glass of Cognac, his throat dry, and slammed the glass on the table.

Bruce: So I vowed to never get another one. Obviously, that didn’t stick. Tim figured out Dick was Nightwing and the first Robin; I couldn’t resist rubbing that in his face for weeks once I felt better. But before that, I turned Tim away. I didn’t want a child sidekick. I thought I could handle this alone. Dick and I were still on terrible terms, and I was losing it. This was after I tried to kill the Joker, by the way.

Jason: Right.

Bruce: I was, to put it lightly, losing my mind. I was inches away from having my one bad day moment, on the brink of insanity. But Alfred and… I think Dick got Tim your old suit—

Jason: My old suit? The one I died in?!

Bruce: No, the backup you had. Keep up. So they gave him that suit, and he saved me. Alfred was like, "Master Bruce, I got you a new sidekick. You don’t have to thank me." I didn’t thank him, but Tim was precocious and adorable. I probably would’ve died without him. But yeah, Alfred was behind that as well.

Jason: …

Bruce: I know it’s a lot to take in. I hope you aren’t angry at Alfred for this.

Jason (burying his head in his hands): I’m so conflicted.

Bruce: That’s usually how I feel when Alfred decides to do things I didn't agree with. He means well though, the man was there for me when I had no one after my parents died. Do you still want to remove the memorial? I have a small one set up for you already, just photos of us together.

Jason: Aww, Bruce, that’s actually nice and makes sense for you. Let’s keep the memorial. I don’t have it in me to get mad at Alfred. Can I have some of that alcohol, though? I think I need it.

Bruce (already pouring him a glass): I expected that. If you have more questions, I’m two drinks in and becoming an open book like that time we got hit with truth pollen.

Jason: I actually wanted to ask what you said to Superman after he stupidly tried to stop you from avenging your son.

Bruce: I’d love to talk about that, and I hope he hears us.

inspired by this kaylee.jaye

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demie90s · 19 days ago

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Winter Smoke

Paige Bueckers x fem!reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: Paige is home for winter break. No practices, no pressure—just family dinners, small town snow, and that one girl who’s always been around.

Genre: SMUT. WLW, slow burn, emotional tension, questioning sexuality, winter break setting, pothead x athlete, domestic vibes, closeted yearning

Warnings: Weed use, internalized confusion, soft flirtation, light physical intimacy (touching, closeness, implied attraction), emotional vulnerability, questioning identity

Word Count: ~ 4.1k

Winter break had the same rhythm every year: Paige came home, parents hosted dinner, folks laughed too loud in the living room, and I minded my business from the basement.

I didn’t mind her being around. We weren’t close—just the kind of familiar that comes from small towns and mutual obligations. Her dad and mine coached together in high school, so technically we’d “known each other forever,” but we’d never really talked. Not like that.

She played ball. I played the system.

They wanted us to be friends, though. My dad always hinting about it, asking me to tutor her in something she didn’t need help with just to get us in the same room. Her mom dropping comments like, “You should bring Paige on one of those study trips you go on, maybe it’ll rub off.”

As if intelligence was contagious.

Didn’t matter. I was too far gone into my own world now. I had my weed, my theories, my books, my silence. I wasn’t even mad about my dad pushing me into academia instead of ball anymore—he got over it. He saw what I did with it. I finished high school early, left with an associate’s before I could legally drink, and now I’m 21 working on a master’s degree while barely blinking. A little weed wasn’t going to be the scandal that ruined me.

So when they pulled up again this winter—her whole family—I didn’t blink.

I was in the basement, like usual. Hoodie on. Socks mismatched. Blunt lit. Some quiet instrumental R&B bleeding out the Bluetooth speaker. I was reading an abstract on cognitive reinforcement while simultaneously plotting which chips I was going to eat next.

And then the door opened. I didn’t look up right away. I already knew. Paige.

“Your mom said you were down here,” she said casually, a soft thud as she dropped down onto the other end of the couch.

“Clearly,” I murmured, barely lifting my eyes from the page. “She send you to babysit me or something?”

“Nah. I just wanted to get out of there. It’s a lot.”

I hummed. “Yeah. That house too full of opinions.”

She laughed lightly, then went quiet. I could feel her eyes scanning the room—my scattered notebooks, the rolling tray, the cloud of sweet smoke hanging heavy in the air.

She leaned back, legs stretched long across the carpet, and asked, ��Is that your study routine or your spiritual practice?”

“Both.”

That got a laugh out of her. I liked the way she laughed. It was light, not forced, and just dry enough to tell me she wasn’t as straight as she tried to act.

“You ever try it?” I asked.

She glanced over. “What?”

I tapped the blunt between my fingers. “This. You off-season now, right?”

She tilted her head like she was thinking. “I mean… I’ve been around it. Never really did it.”

“Now’s the perfect time. No games, no drug tests, no interviews. Just you and the void.”

She looked at me, a little too long, and I knew then she was considering it.

“You don’t gotta impress me,” I said. “But you curious. I see it.”

Her eyes narrowed, amused. “You always talk like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re narrating a Netflix show no one’s ready for.”

I smirked, slow. “That’s ‘cause they’re not.”

Eventually, she took it. Sloppy first inhale, a cough, another laugh. She settled into the feeling quicker than I thought. And then came the real problem—we started talking. Like really talking.

I don’t even remember what cracked it. Might’ve been a joke about her old baby photos upstairs or some memory we shared at a fourth-grade birthday party neither of us remembered happening until now. But the laughter settled into something thicker. Slower.

“People don’t really know how smart you are,” she said out of nowhere.

I blinked, caught off guard. “You stalking my résumé or something?”

“Nah, just… people talk. My mom brags about you to everyone. Said you had college credits before you had a prom.”

“That’s true. I skipped prom.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Cause I was gay and bored. And the DJ was trash.”

Her lips twitched like she didn’t know whether to laugh or process the information. “So you’re out?”

“Out? Baby, I was see-through.”

I stretched out further, dragging the blunt to my lips again. She was watching me now. Too closely. Her eyes darkened a little, the haze from the smoke mixing with the curiosity already crawling under her skin.

“And what about you?” I asked, soft. “You ever… explore?”

She didn’t answer immediately. But she didn’t break eye contact either.

“Not really,” she murmured. “Not in a real way.” I nodded. Said nothing. I didn’t need to press it.

She leaned closer. Just a little. Her hand brushed mine on the couch, slow like a test. I didn’t move. Just let the tension sit there.

“You ever think about what it’s like?” she asked quietly.

My eyes locked on hers, and for once, I didn’t say something witty. Didn’t joke. Just let my voice drop into something honest.

“All the time.” There was a pause.

“Can I… try something?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

She leaned in. Lips brushed. Slow. Careful. She tasted like nerves and chapstick and a little leftover smoke. And when I deepened it—just slightly—she let out the softest sound I’ve ever heard from her.

That’s when I knew I was in trouble. Cause I knew who I was. On the surface? Calm. Chill. Smarter than I look and twice as calculated. On the inside? Horny. Starving. Ready to fall to my knees and make her forget her last name.

But I held it in. Barely.

Our kiss broke and she smiled, dazed. “That was…”

“Yeah.”

She laid her head on my shoulder. I felt her fingers graze the hem of my shirt. Not sexual. Just curious. But I was holding on by threads.

We’d been like that for a while now—somewhere between silence and casual conversation, like neither of us knew how to say, “Hey, are we gonna talk about the way we kissed and didn’t stop thinking about it for the last hour?”

We hadn’t moved from the couch. Weirdly enough, it held both of us just fine. Just enough room. Just enough quiet. Except now Paige was laying on top of me.

Her legs tangled between mine, her body pressed down in a way that didn’t feel innocent anymore. Head on my chest, one arm hooked lazily around my waist, like she’d done this a thousand times. Her eyes were closed, but she was still talking—something about childhood basketball trophies and how her little cousin found her old highlights on YouTube.

I could barely register a word. Because all I could think about was how her thigh was right there—pressed between mine. Not moving. But not still either.

And I was high. Which made it worse. I don’t get stupid when I’m high—I get hungry. And every slow exhale from her nose onto my collarbone was pushing me closer to losing it.

I bit my lip. She didn’t notice.

Her voice was soft. “He said I looked mean. Like, ‘Auntie, why you look so mad when you play?’ I was like, bro, that’s my face.”

I huffed out a breath. Tried to shift. Tried to be normal. But she moved with me—adjusted her leg without even opening her eyes, and suddenly her thigh dragged right over where I’d been trying not to feel too much.

I clenched my jaw. She still didn’t notice.

“I used to hate watching myself,” she murmured, voice low and gentle against my throat. “Now it’s kinda cool, seeing where I started. You ever feel like that? Like—”

“I have to move you,” I cut in, voice tighter than I meant.

She lifted her head a little, brows furrowed. “What? Why?”

I sat up slightly, forcing her off me and into her own seat like it didn’t hurt. Like it wasn’t killing me to put space between us.

“Are you alright?” she asked, concerned, leaning closer. I licked my lips slowly, trying to keep my voice steady.

“I’m trying not to fuck you,” I said calmly. Deadass. Unapologetic.

She blinked once. Then again. And smiled. That slow, knowing smile.

“Oh,” she said, sitting up straighter. “That’s why.”

“Mhm.”

“You could’ve said something.”

“I did.”

“No, I mean earlier.”

“You were literally laying on me. I could barely breathe. You were talking about youth basketball and I was this close to snapping your waistband and licking your spine.”

She grinned wider, leaned in like she was about to say something smart, and kissed me instead. Not light. Not curious. Firm. Intentional. Her hand cupped my jaw while her mouth moved slow and deep over mine, and I was holding on by a damn thread.

Then she started licking my neck. Not just kissing—licking. Small, warm, deliberate strokes right beneath my ear, and then soft open-mouthed kisses trailing down to my collarbone. And I was still. Frozen.

Not because I didn’t want to touch her. But because I did. Because if I moved, I was going to flip her. Make her cry out. Make her feel every second of what I’d been holding in since she laid on me like that couch was neutral ground.

She sat in my lap now, straddling me fully, rocking just barely. Smirking.

“You good?” she asked in that fake innocent tone, head tilted, lips still swollen from kissing.

I looked at her. Stared. She thought she was winning. Thought she was in charge. But when she leaned in close again and whispered, “Yes…”—that was it.

Everything inside me snapped.

My hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her down flush. The soft gasp she let out told me all I needed to know. She didn’t expect me to take it that seriously.

I kissed her hard—like I was making up for every second I held back. My tongue slid into her mouth like I owned the space. My hands gripped her thighs, pulled her down tighter into me, and I felt the shift in her body—the sudden surrender. The way she melted under it.

“You thought you’d in charge?” I muttered between kisses. She tried to say something cocky. I swallowed it with another kiss.

“You laid on me like I wouldn’t do something about it.”

Her hips shifted. My fingers dug in. She moaned—soft, breathy, and fuck, I wanted more.

I kissed her jaw, her neck, the space just under her ear where she shivered like I found a secret. My voice dropped.

“Girl you got one chance to tell me to stop.”

She didn’t. Her hands gripped my shoulders. She leaned in again, kissed me like she was already gone.

I didn’t ask again. Didn’t need to. Paige had already told me everything I needed to hear—between her eyes, her breathing, her “yes,” the way her thighs clenched the second I kissed under her ear.

And I wasn’t about to waste that permission.

I flipped her slow. Nothing rough—just smooth and deliberate. Her back hit the cushions while I stayed above her, steady, calm, calculated. Her hands gripped my hoodie like she was holding herself together. That wouldn’t last long.

Then I was on her. Hands sliding up under her hoodie, fingertips dragging over bare skin, tugging fabric higher as I kissed down her neck. She lifted her arms, let me take it off, hair falling across her flushed face like some forbidden secret I wasn’t supposed to see.

But I was gonna see all of her. Every fucking inch.

No bra. Just her. Skin flushed pink, breathing shallow, chest rising. I stared. Just for a second. Just to memorize the shape of her. Then I dropped my mouth to her chest—tongue licking a slow circle around her nipple before pulling it into my mouth, gently, then harder, until she gasped and arched up.

My hands weren’t still either. One slid down, thumb dragging under the band of her sweatpants. I felt her tremble when I grazed the front of her, the heat, the way her body reacted instantly. My eyes were on hers the whole time.

I didn’t say anything. I just pulled them down. She lifted her hips to help me, quiet, legs parting slightly, thighs tense. No panties. She knew what she was doing. IM not mad at it.

She always looked so clean-cut. So composed. But here she was, laying back in my basement with nothing on from the waist down, wet and ready, thighs trembling, eyes locked on me like she didn’t know whether to speak or beg.

I dropped to my knees on the floor between the couch cushions. Didn’t rush. Just kissed the inside of her thigh, slow and firm. Then the other. Licked the softness just above where she needed it, blowing cool air across her pussy until she squirmed.

I didn’t tease her long. Not tonight.

I leaned in and kissed her there—deep, full tongue pressure, slow licks that flattened against her clit, then slid lower, tasting her. Her hips jumped immediately.

“Oh my god,” she breathed. I hummed against her. The vibrations made her moan. Then I really got to work.

My hands gripped her thighs and pulled her forward. I spread her wider, licking long and slow—up and down, circling, pausing only to suck her clit gently, then hard enough to make her back arch off the couch. She was losing it already, one hand tangled in my curls, the other gripping the pillow like it could ground her.

But I wasn’t done.

While I ate her, one hand slid back into my sweats—already soaked from how long I’d been holding it in. My fingers rubbed slow circles over my own clit, matching the rhythm of my mouth on hers. It made the pleasure sharper, more focused. Like I was feeding off her sounds.

She moaned louder. Her thighs started to tremble.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, voice cracking.

I didn’t. I licked her like it was my purpose—slow but relentless. I flattened my tongue, sucked her clit again, then moved lower and slid my tongue inside her, moaning softly when she gasped and rolled her hips into my face. Her whole body tightened. She was close. Right there.

I pulled back just enough to say, “I want you to come on my mouth.”

She whimpered. “Fuck. I’m gonna—”

Her whole body jerked. Her legs shook around my shoulders. I didn’t stop—kept licking through it, softer now, coaxing it out of her, letting her ride it. She cried out, breathless, shaky, and her fingers pulled hard at my hair.

I stayed there until she twitched. Until she couldn’t take anymore. Until she pushed at me with a whimper and begged, “Wait—baby, stop—too much.”

I finally pulled back. Licked my lips. Looked at her. Wrecked. Flushed. Breathless. Still trembling.

I climbed back onto the couch beside her, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and leaned in to kiss her neck—tasting her skin, dragging my tongue up her throat slow and dirty.

“You taste so fucking good,” I whispered.

She blinked at me, dazed. “You’re high.”

“And you’re lucky I didn’t eat you through the fucking floor.”

She laughed weakly, still breathless. And then her fingers slid between my legs.

“Ohhh…” I smiled, slow and wicked. “You trying to be grown?” She looked at me.

“Say yes again.”

She hadn’t even caught her breath yet, still folded into the couch cushions, legs slightly open, chest rising in soft uneven waves. Her skin glowed in the low light—pink from heat, kissed red around her chest and throat. And yet she still looked hungry.

Paige shifted, climbing into my lap like the tremble in her thighs didn’t exist. She pushed me back into the cushions and settled over me, straddling me fully, hands on either side of my neck, gaze low and steady. There was something new in her eyes. Bolder. Like now that she knew what my mouth could do, she wanted to see what her hands could make happen.

“You good?” I asked, low.

Her lips curled into a smirk. “Shut up.”

“Excuse me?” I raised a brow.

But she was already kissing me—hot, slow, and wet, tongue teasing mine like she wanted to reclaim her breath through me. Her hand slid under my hoodie, trailing along my ribs, my stomach. She tugged it up, impatient. I let her pull it off.

She looked down at me now, eyes scanning everything, like she was seeing me for the first time. Then her hands cupped my chest, thumbs brushing over my nipples, and I sighed into the kiss, my back arching just a little.

“Tell me what you want,” she whispered, voice husky.

I opened my mouth to respond, but she kissed down my neck before I could answer—slow and messy, lips dragging across my collarbone, then lower. Her tongue flicked over my nipple and my breath caught. She smiled against my skin.

“Oh, you like that.”

“Mhm,” I managed. “But don’t get cocky. You still shaky.”

She ignored that, kissing lower. Her hand slid between my legs, over my sweats, slow pressure that made me sigh and grind into her palm.

“You’re soaked,” she whispered, surprised.

“Yeah. You. Did that.”

Paige hummed, dragging her fingers up and down through the fabric. Teasing. She didn’t rush. Didn’t try to prove anything. Just moved with confidence—like she’d been thinking about this longer than she admitted.

She tugged my sweats down, enough to get her hand in, and the moment her fingers slid through how wet I was, she moaned.

“Fuck.”

I grinned. “You good?”

“Yeah,” she muttered, dazed, like she forgot where she was. Her fingers rubbed slow circles over my clit while she kissed me again—deep and dirty, moaning into my mouth every time I twitched.

Then she slid one finger in. Then another. I grabbed her wrist on instinct, not to stop her, but to feel it. She started thrusting slow, her other hand gripping my thigh, and her breath got uneven again.

“You’re so fucking warm,” she whispered, looking down at where her fingers disappeared inside me. “I—I can’t—”

And then she froze. Her eyes fluttered. Her legs trembled.

“Oh my god.”

She gasped, sharp and loud, grinding down against me like she didn’t even mean to. Cumming. Again.

Right there. On top of me. Legs shaking, forehead pressed to mine, fingers still inside me but frozen. She whimpered, soft and stunned.

I bit my lip, smiling. “You were saying?”

“Shut up,” she panted.

“No, no, please,” I laughed breathlessly. “You were being in charge. Continue.”

She blinked down at me, red-faced. “I—I forgot what I was doing.”

I gripped her hips and started to move them. She moaned.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “Let me help you remember.”

I guided her—slow grind, right over my thigh now, slick and sensitive, her hands on my chest for balance. I kept moving her, small circles, steady pressure, and watched her fall apart all over again.

“You think I needed more than this?” I muttered, voice low. “Just you on top of me, making all those sounds…”

“Stop talking,” she gasped, but her hips didn’t stop.

“I came already, Paige. You know that, right?” Her eyes widened.

“I came while I was eating you.” (Literally a dream of mine.. don’t mind me)

She whimpered, grinding harder. “Fuck…”

“And now you’re gonna come again. Because you turn me on that bad.”

She didn’t argue. She just shook. Collapsed into my neck and came again, softer this time. Just a long, trembling sigh, her breath hot against my throat, body loose and weak and completely undone.

And I held her. Smiling to myself. Because yeah—she tried to be in charge. But I had her. Every. Single. Time.

It was sometime past midnight when we finally pulled ourselves together—sweatpants back on, hoodies thrown over bodies still warm, limbs still a little shaky. We laughed too much in the bathroom while brushing our teeth, hands knocking into each other, grinning like two kids who knew they weren’t supposed to be doing what they just did.

She stayed.

Of course she stayed.

Now we were in my room, the lights dim, comforter kicked halfway off the bed. She laid on top of me, hoodie half-zipped, cheek pressed against my chest like it belonged there. Her thigh was tucked between mine again, but this time I wasn’t grinding—I was too tired. Too satisfied. My hand rested on her back, fingers tracing lazy lines along her spine while she talked soft and slow, her voice fading in and out like she was about to fall asleep mid-sentence.

“You sure I’m not crushing you?” she mumbled.

I rolled my eyes. “You weigh, like, five pounds more than me.”

“But I’m taller. Got broader shoulders.”

I slid my hand down to squeeze her ass. “You’re not heavy, Paige. I lift.”

She chuckled, sleep in her throat. “Okay, hot girl.”

We laid there like that for a while. Comfortable. Quiet. Her breath evened out, her body melted against mine. I didn’t move.

I didn’t want to.

Morning came like a slap to the ego. The sun peeked through my curtains just bright enough to hit Paige’s face. She scrunched up like a cat and rolled off me with a groan, taking the covers with her.

“Damn,” I muttered, dragging my hoodie down.

“Shut up,” she grumbled. “Your bed’s too comfortable. I didn’t wanna wake up.”

“You drooled on me.”

She blinked. “What?”

I smirked. “Right here.” I tapped my chest. “Dead center. Like a badge of honor.”

She covered her face, laughing into her sleeve.

We got dressed in a mess of mismatched clothes. My sweats, her hoodie. My bonnet that she definitely did not need but still tried on for jokes. I tossed her one of my oversized tees to wear under her jacket and she looked at herself in the mirror like she didn’t hate it.

“You good?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yeah. Just don’t know how to walk out of here like I wasn’t literally—”

“Say it and I’ll drag you back in this bed.”

She bit her lip. “That’s not a threat.”

We made our way to the kitchen like two teenagers sneaking in past curfew—except it was 9 a.m., and both of my parents were already awake.

I should’ve known something was up the moment my mom turned from the stove with that look. That mom look. The one that says, “You think I don’t know, but I know.”

“Mornin’ girls,” she said sweetly, sliding pancakes onto a plate. “Y’all sleep good?”

Paige damn near tripped over the chair. I cleared my throat. “Yup. Great. Comfy.”

“Yeah,” Paige added too fast. “Really good. Slept really… peacefully.”

“Mhmm,” my mom replied, smirking. “Sure did look peaceful when I checked on you two. Cozy.”

I froze. “You what?”

“Oh relax. I didn’t open the door all the way. Just enough to see her head on your chest like a baby possum.”

Paige looked like she wanted the floor to eat her whole. And then came my father. He walked in holding his coffee like a championship trophy, grinning like he hit the lottery three times in one night.

“I knew it,” he said, loud as hell. “I told you, baby! Didn’t I say?”

He turned to my mom, eyes wide. “Didn’t I say, ‘Those two gone end up together. It’s only a matter of time’? Didn’t I say that?!”

“You said it,” my mom replied flatly, rolling her eyes.

My dad clapped his hands together once, loud and proud. “Welcome to the family, Bueckers!”

Paige’s eyes got so wide I thought she might pass out. I dropped my forehead to the table. “You’re embarrassing. Please stop.”

He ignored me completely, walking over to Paige and slapping her on the shoulder like he just drafted her to the Lakers. “I mean this girl right here—man! Best in the league. Smart. Focused. Got a crossover and a sense of humor.”

“She’s sitting right here,” I muttered.

He leaned in closer, whispering too loud to be subtle. “If you break her heart, I’m takin’ your jump shot. You hear me?”

Paige choked on her juice. My mom finally rescued us. “That’s enough, Mr. Hall of Fame. Go fix the screen door like you said you would.”

He walked off still talking. “Three for three! That’s what I’m talkin’ about. Three for three!”

I turned to Paige, deadpan. “You wanna run? Now’s your chance.”

She leaned over, bumped my shoulder, and whispered, “Actually… I’m kinda into it.”

I blinked. “Into what?”

She smirked. “Being yours.”

My heart did something stupid. Like real stupid.

But all I said was, “Better be. You drooled on me.”

@xxsnowxx213 @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog

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solbaby7 · 5 months ago

Note

I love the idea of the drink menu for the requests! It's brilliant ✨️

Could I please get an Old Fashioned, salt rim, neat? Take your time 💋

[ “no, no, leave your clothes on for me.” + smut + az ]

thank you so much for the request and being patient with me 💕💕the vibe of this one is giving situationship that yearns to be more, been watching too much scandal🫣

-> BLURB BAR <-

—

You’d learned pretty early on in life that asking for forgiveness was better than begging for permission.

It was just easier, usually made things less complicated which is why you significantly downplay the importance of the dress purchase that had half a dozen seamstresses prattling about your bedchambers. One of them promptly shoos Azriel away once they notice him eyeing the divider you strip behind, ushering him up and out of the doorway. He’s adjusting his pants when the door shuts behind him, vividly recalling the glimpse all that tight fabric and the way it cinches at your waist, accentuating the full curves concealed beneath. It leaves him hungry; wanting—salivating like starved wolves that scavenge through the Middle for mere scraps.

“Hot date?”

Azriel’s brows furrow, still a little dizzy from the sight of you and your lingering scent; his body annoyingly attuned to your own. “No, why?”

Rhys lazily points in the direction of your room, eyes trained on the array of chilled whiskeys at the bar cart before him. “The dress she’s wearing is designer—exclusive; one of a kind. Need to book an appointment a year in advance as well as having a good word with the owner type exclusive.”

“So?”

“So,” Polished crystal clacks heavily against metal, one, two, three ice cubes fall inside before a hefty pour of some smoky whiskey that’s been sitting around longer than you’d been alive. “They don’t sell a single dress without taking specific measurements for alterations, making multiple appointments for fittings.” The lack of response makes Rhys turn, fingers brushing at the crease in his dress shirt as he takes his brother in. Hazel eyes are clouded with curiosity, a million possibilities being pinned up on a board as the hunter within him collects pieces of a puzzle. “My point is, no male in his right mind lets the woman he wants go out in a dress like that without having some sort of claim on her first.”

Suddenly, it makes sense why people of power are urged to be of sound mind; to have a level head so that advice like that didn’t send one into a spiral.

Azriel quickly learns that he is not of sound mind. A harsh truth that he realizes seconds after Rhys leaves him alone to settle with those words. They echo in his brain, repeating in his mind like some curse that’s dead set on haunting him.

Sure, the two of you hadn’t exactly put a title on all the secret moments spent scuffling off to some dark corner for a few frenzied kisses. The times where group nights at Rita’s leaves two bodies disappearing out back for his hands to hike up some skimpy dress enough to get a good grip of your ass. But that alone had to count for something at least, didn’t it?

No way some other male would get the chance to see you how Azriel did, right? His hands twitch at the uncertainty—jealousy lighting a fire in his ass that has him bee-lining it to your room like he fucking owns the place.

It’s almost comical, the way your door bounces off the wall under the pressure of his palm once he’s finally reached it. Too bad he’s too honed in on his target to take in the true humor of six attentive ladies shooting daggers at the towering interruption that keeps making your arms fidget or hips shift while they try to work. “Az?”

“We need to talk.”

“Oh, can it wait? They’re nearly finished with the—“

“No, I’m sorry. It needs to be now, it’s urgent.” Shadows are already following their masters will, urging the ladies out of the room and into the hall, the door shutting before their disgruntled words could breech the barrier. He turns, a speech brewing at the tip of his tongue but it all goes blank when he looks at you—really looks at you. “Wow, you look….wow.”

You preen under the attention, one arm holding up the bodice as you give him a spin. “I just knew when I saw it, it had to be mine.” There’s a few loose threads, buttons waiting in a little dish to the side to be sewn on properly but he gets the gist. Fully understands the intent of such fabrics when he sees it holding onto the shape of your curves. “Fits like a glove.”

“I can see that.” Grace is granted when you fully return to face the mirror, too entranced in the little details to even notice the way Azriel eats up the picture you paint. All soft lines and pretty shadows casted by the flickery golden light emitting from the candles you favor. Warm notes of vanilla and honeysuckle fill his nose and he commits every bit to memory; latching on to whatever he can of you. “A little skimpy for Starfall, don’t you think? Or is there a matching coat I’m not seeing?”

The cutting look you throw his way is felt through the reflective glass. “I’d never waste a dress like this on a familial event.” A neat brow raises as you carry on with your hair, hands holding it in a pony. Twisting it into a neat bun. Letting it all free and tousling it messily, lips pouting at the sexy bed head texture it creates.

“Then, what’s it for?”

“To get laid.”

Raw jealousy is injected into Azriel’s veins faster than he can even comprehend the attack. It shoots through his bloodstream, gobbling up all sensiblities while simultaneously planting seeds of doubt. Every inch of him goes rigid, lids narrowing and pupils dilating. Acid pools on his tongue, singeing through the words he speaks, “What gave you the impression that anyone else could touch you while you’re fucking me?”

“Oh, I don’t know—maybe, it’s the lack of exclusivity?” Mascara is brushed through your lashes. Lipgloss smeared across supple lips. “Or maybe it’s because I’m just too fucking pretty to be always second guessing why you won’t make a move already.”

A muscle ticks along his jaw, “I thought it was obvious enough that you and I—you belong to be.”

“Says who?” He abhors the way you laugh around your words. “Because, that conversation doesn’t ring a bell.”

Azriel’s shoulders shift, frustration lingering in his stance and you find yourself annoyingly attracted to the entitled way he begins to fill up the space of your room. Outside shoes sink into the soft plush of your rugs until he’s standing behind you, one finger flicking at your dress as if it were personally offending him. “Says me.”

A scoff passes glossy lips, a hand waving absently in his direction as if shooing off an insect. “Save the brutish male bullshit for a female who favors it. This dancing around your feelings thing is growing tiresome and borderline pathetic.”

You’ve gone too far.

The absence of his reply makes you sure of that. Too many seconds pass in silence, long enough for the mood to grow awkward. Lips part and close, the heat in Azriel’s stare too ambiguous to go off of.

Fingers fiddle with dainty gold rings held snug against your knuckle. “Az, I’m—“

“—In need of some clarification, it seems.” Every syllable comes out alarmingly even, forcing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand at attention. “Go to the bed and bend over.”

“…is this a joke?” You question over a tense laugh.

Not a single thing about him indicates so. “Does it feel like one?” He leaves no room for a response, jaw jutting out towards the bed. “Bend over.”

You swallow thickly, moving to comply while shimmying the dress down your torso.

“No.” Azriel’s voice cuts through like an arrow through the night, shadows curling around the curve of your shoulder, teasing through your hair. Goosebumps kiss your flesh, neck craning as your body melts to mush under his attention. “Leave your clothes on for me. You spent so much money,” Every step he takes is as silent as a whisper; the only way you can tell he’s directly behind you is because of the foot that nudges between your ankles, widening your stance. “Let me appreciate it how it deserves, yeah?”

He’s not really asking for a response but you nod along either way.

Anticipation burns beneath your skin, warms your belly, makes toes curl in expensive shoes when you hear the shift of his clothes as he crouches down to his knees. Shadows hold up the hem of your dress, preventing you from seeing exactly what Az is doing, but your imagination fills in the blanks when you feel his breath against the back of your thighs. "Pretty," The muscles in your legs jump at his touch, cool fingertips trailing up your calves, squeezing at the thickness of upper thighs while running his thumb under the fat of your ass.

You get the feeling he isn't referring to the intricate lace detailing or near invisible line along the side that concealed the zipper running from hip to rib. Not when he spreads you open, a deep hum rumbling in his chest at the wet sound of your cunt separating beneath thin cotton.

“Now there’s a warm welcome,” A hooked finger peels it away, revealing bare sex and dripping arousal. Calloused skin dragging against a sensitive clit has your hips jumping at the sudden attention.

Teeth bite at supple lips, a moan crooning free as pleasure licks up your spine—it’s not enough. You shift from foot to foot, heels forcing a strain in your hamstrings while bent over in this position but Azriel doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. “Beating around the bush, as usual.” He’s perfectly content exploring around with your sex, circling around your clit and teasing his fingers into a warm hole that all but weeps in rejoice at the attention.

“Don’t rush me.” Your throat rolls with a thick swallow at the authority in his tone, brows pinched with pleasure as he works you open. “A male can spend all day tinkering away with his toys if that’s what he pleases. Don’t you agree?”

It should bother you more that Azriel plays fucking dirty.

He’s just daring you to deny him while he’s got you so exposed—so vulnerable. Fingers abusing at a sensitive spot that has your legs shaking and pelvis bulging a little at the intrusion. Arousal pools in his palm, fingers coaxing your mind to mush; pulverizing all the fight you have as he works you to your high.

“Yes!” You all but shout, back arching into the orgasm that washes over you. Incoherent little babbles follow, choppy encouragements and whispered pleas for reprieve but all Azriel can hear is ‘yesyesyes’ ‘yoursyoursyours’.

Someone of his own to covet. To kiss and love and fuck and ruin.

Something like satisfaction coats his cadence. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

[lol a lil bonus part i couldn’t make fit but refused to delete]

“Pathetic, hm?”

A satisfied grin spreads along flushed cheeks, hair messy and lipgloss smudged. “You do your best work when provoked.” Something like realization bleeds back into your eyes and in seconds you’re flailing from his arms, slipping off the mattress and using the discarded dress as coverage when you rush to the door.

There’s a few seams loose, string hanging out haphazardly and wrinkles all over but your smile is bright—damn near dopey when you drop a thick velvet bag in their palm. “Final payment plus tip—the dress is perfect.”

“It’s ruined!”

“Trust me,” Fabric whispers as it moves, legs shuffling to tuck your frame better behind the door. “It served its purpose.”

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silasoctakiseron · 1 month ago

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@thesaintofpatience made a post about this the other day that I didn't want to straight-up hijack, but necrocav roleswap AU for the Eighth is one of my favorite topics to sit down with a cup full of nails and a bowl full of barbed wire to think about, so I did also want to post about it because it MAKES ME CRAZY. Very long post ahead, as ever.

I'm personally strongly opposed to ageswapping here because I think so much of Silas's attitude and actions toward Colum are shaped by the fact that he's never known a day of his life without him. This leaves us with a Master Templar in his mid-thirties with a sixteen-year-old cavalier half his size constantly dogging his footsteps. How do we get here?

OP (are we on a first-name basis? Hi) mentioned the possibility of Colum having a previous cavalier who was killed in an accident and necessitated a rush-job replacement in the form of Silas, who in many ways makes a poor substitute. I like this, but the thought that initially came to me was rather that Colum had previously never had a cavalier with whom he was sufficiently genetically compatible to be a truly powerful siphoner.

We know that compatibility has something to do with blood type per ch. 28:

“Three brothers with different blood types, because we couldn’t tell what you’d be and which of us you’d need.”

This makes sense given how tied-up bloodletting and spirit work are in TLT, particularly re: speech to the dead and stele travel (shoutout Hannah @katakaluptastrophy for more on this ⁠— I had planned to link a specific post but honestly just search the word "blood" on her blog). However, other than that it's all incredibly vague. I'm thinking about the Master Templar raised with two brothers close to him in age, one of whom should have made a suitable cavalier given their close relation, and it just ⁠— didn't work.

So now you have a Master Templar who spends 16 to 21 years being able to siphon and otherwise perform Eighth necromancy, but it's not good enough. There is no replacement for Colum, though growing one rapidly shot even higher on the House's list of priorities when it became clear neither planned contingency would work. It's a long decade or two of the Eighth subtly turning inward (as is implied in the book by their ceasing participation on the cavalier duelling circuit) to shield the Order from the fact that its master is insufficiently armed while it tries to devise a solution. This leads to experimentation with stepping back up Colum's family tree in the name of cultivating a viable offshoot as soon as possible.

You could go a lot of different ways here ⁠— personally I'm doing some handwaving for the purpose of this post. Maybe early assessment of Silas seemed promising even though he was sickly and small ⁠— maybe he was the only one or one of a few to survive to birth ⁠— &c. as you will. Either way, the first time Colum tries to siphon him ⁠— and it does not feel good to siphon from a child, particularly an undersized child barely ten years old, of whom Colum has grown quite fond ⁠— Colum lights up like a fucking firecracker. Baby, that's the Master fucking Templar.

The Order remains a little hush-hush on this, imo, because it does seem a bit in poor taste, but what matters is that the House is being headed once again by a necromancer at the height of his power rather than one being forced to make do with what's available.

What does all of this mean for Silas?

Colum makes very clear in GTN that his entire life is his cavaliership. There is no separable distinction between Colum Asht, the person, and Colum the Eighth, cavalier primary.

“Oath? Ten years of training, before you were even born. ... Ten years of antigens, antibodies, and waiting—for you. I am the oath.”

That said, Colum remembers what it was to wait. Colum's childhood was shaped by the absence of Silas; Silas's childhood was shaped by the constant presence of Colum.

So what of an Eighth cavalier who, in addition to training his entire life to serve the Master Templar, grew up as a small child who hero-worshipped him? We know from GTN that Silas thinks Colum is both inherently morally good (ch. 28) and physically/spiritually invincible (the latter which of course ultimately causes both their deaths — chs. 18, 34). In canon, these things point not only to the qualities of Colum as a person that Silas respects and admires, but additionally to Colum's effectiveness as a tool for Silas's use. We also know that as a child, Silas "[took] everything [Colum] said as gospel" per ch. 28. In a world where he's Master Templar rather than the cavalier primary, this sentiment is exacerbated dramatically by the fact that everything Colum says is gospel.

In a world where Silas was Colum's cavalier, taught his entire life that serving Colum was the destiny granted him by the Emperor and that he should be grateful for the honor, one can see how this would contribute to Silas's inexorable religious fervor. Silas's effectiveness as a tool for Colum lies in a very different sense of duty, honor, and service: he is not responsible for Colum's care, which is a major driving force in canon for Colum's feelings about Silas, but rather his physical defense and necromantic power. He's not responsible for watching Colum grow up, raising him with a specific sense of morality, or otherwise shaping him in any way; he's a conduit and a weapon, and he's proud to be those things when in many ways Colum would much rather he just be a teenage boy.

So we already have a seething religious zealot at the best of times, who rather than being aggressively sheltered and shut up in contemplation as the Master Templar has been trained to give up his body wholly to his necromancer and wage holy war from an extremely young age. We know that the Eighth raise necrocav pairs with particularly early awareness of their roles, to the degree that Judith, who (for perspective) joined the military at age 6 (ch.32), notes that Silas would have understood his position from young childhood.

Then we have a Master Templar who, rather than being hailed as a child prodigy capable of immensely powerful necromancy, scraped along for nearly two decades doing what he could do, knowing it was inadequate, thoroughly washed in the blood of the Emperor but wondering how and why the Emperor would put him through a trial so directly harmful to the Order and its interests. Colum's faith in the Emperor and adherence to Eighth religious beliefs is effectively unshakable in canon even when it actively harms and oppresses him. But this isn't about Colum as the Master Templar, who would likely still gladly lay down and take his lashes in the name of serving the Emperor. This is about the ways in which Colum has failed the Order for reasons beyond his control, knowing that he's been kept in this role so long only because it's proven nearly impossible to replace him in a timely fashion.

You have a man whose faith was already shot through with doubt he can't acknowledge as the foremost religious leader of the Nine Houses. This man is then put in charge of a small child — likely in a substantially less involved fashion than canon, given that his main responsibilities are to the system rather than serving and caring for a single religious official — whose job is to fight and die for him, a grown man. This child adores him and believes he can do no wrong, and grows into a physically weary teenager in obvious chronic pain who nevertheless fiercely insists that it is the honor of his life and his duty to the Emperor for the Master Templar to exercise the right to wear away at his health and well-being in the name of necromantic power and religious leadership.

These people arrive at Canaan House not only performing a deeply unpopular and offputting form of necromancy to begin with, but additionally effectively executing an act of ritualized religious child abuse every time they do so, which no one was really aware was going on until now. The strange divisions of power between them in canon are obviously different, but still present: a man with no replacement lined up for the position of the highest official bar the Emperor and his Saints of the Nine Houses' theocracy, whose ability to maintain that position and avoid throwing the Houses into a massive power vacuum depends on his ability to scrape away at the soul of a teenage boy he cares deeply for who's absolutely frothing at the mouth about the necessity of his doing so.

What happens next? How does this impact the Eighth's attitude toward Lyctorhood — when the cavalier primary isn't shutting his eyes and silently accepting his death, but demanding that Colum use him as he will to ascend to the station of Saint? To finally be able to wield the full extent of his power independent of an external party after years of failing to do so with inadequate substitutes? When does Colum draw the line between his responsibility to the system, the Order, and the Emperor, and his care for the child to whom the Emperor has bound him in contract, who he loves and has actively been harming for over five years?

#silas octakiseron #colum asht #the locked tomb #post spiraled out of control as usual. sorry #still somehow almost cried reading ch 28 for this post even though i've read it literally countless times in 3 languages #ONCE UPON A TIME YOU WOULD HAVE TAKEN EVERYTHING I SAID AS GOSPEL. I USED TO THINK THAT WAS WORSE THAN NOW. BUT I WAS WRONG

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simp-ly-writes · 4 months ago

Text

A Noble Act

─────── · · For All Time: The Series (pt.6)

─ · · PAIRING: The Doctor x F!Time Lord!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: There are two definite things in this universe. One, Donna Noble will get the Doctor and the Lady back together. And two, she was going to do whatever it takes to make it happen.

─ · · TAGS: female pronouns used, second person perspective, canon divergence, soulmate au, mutual pining, emotional angst, ✨ jealous!Doctor ✨, suggestive themes, kissing, eventual happy ending, not beta read.

─ · · A/N: sorry that it skips around a bit, was trying to fill in the time between events but nevertheless I hope you all enjoy this second-to-last part!

─────── · ·

~ Prior to the Gardens...

Donna Noble has had quite enough to put it simply. She was sick of the Doctors constant moping and pouty stares off into space like a lost puppy caught out in the rain. Sick of his defensive quips and strike-backs to make her stop asking about you. And she was most certainly sick of nobody doing anything when you both obviously just needed to kiss and make up already.

So when she stepped foot back onto the TARDIS, Donna Noble had a plan... to get two Time Lords back together like some romantic-comedy gone wrong. How exactly would she do this?- she had to do some research first and brew herself a bot of tea to enjoy with it.

The Doctor was suspicious of why his companion all the sudden was digging through the deepest of storage rooms and climbing up the highest shelves in the library to stick her nose into dusty books and boxes yet in the grand scheme of things, this was the least weird thing he had encountered and so he let his companion be.... for now.

─────── · ·

The Lady is a member from one of the most powerful houses on Gallifery who are thought to be descendants from the original Time Lords line and thus is where her title was established. Her house oversaw smaller states across the red planet and acted as the main conductors for interplanetary relations. Originally, she was set for a political marriage to ensure the lineage of her house but after careful consideration another member was pulled. The reason for why this change happened was unknown to the public for many years and many suggested that the cause was her finding her soulmate. It wouldn't be until several years later until answers were provided as the Lady made her relationship with rivalling house member, the Doctor, public. It was very well known how their parents detested one another so to see this union was a shock to all socialites and papers.

Donna held onto every word of the textbook fixed between her hands, cooing and aw-ing at the Doctors seemingly 'love story for the ages' as this writer put it or as Donna read between the pages, a 'jealous love story of the ages'. As she snickered at the rivalry between the Doctor and the Master for your hand. To be fought over, Donna sighed before shaking her head and Flipping forwards to the next page, she saw an old portrait of yourself from regenerations ago.

Yet falling out onto her lap between the pages was a chain of paper flowers and hearts, it is all sickly sweet, too sweet, she thought to herself and she would be correct in picking up her next book, The History of the Time Wars, that crushed her high spirits.

Said to be the true war to end all wars and to some part it was to an outsider looking in. Two greatly evolved species, the Daleks and the Time Lords in a tale fundamentally as old as time set to an end by their mutual destruction. Many tragic stories have came out of these loveless fights, some even too dark and sad to be placed into words. Yet amongst these all, the Lady and the Doctor stands to be the saddest of them all, their tale connecting across language, time, and species of a man driven to absolute destruction thinking their love to be lost as they trash out against the universe, a tale as old as the Time Wars itself found repeating across storytellers everywhere. Nowadays only singular survivors of these wars remain with limited resources to reconstruct their once great fleets and nations... the only question remains on which species is stubborn enough to wait for the other to die or to die trying to kill the other... the answer, if you are reading this, is already found.

So entrenched into her readings she didn't notice the Doctor leaning in the doorframe a sad and contemplative look upon his features as he stared at the array of books he spent many of his younger years reading- hoping to gain a closer connection to you in some way by the mere mention of your name against a white page.

With a heavy sigh, the Doctor pivots, closing the door softly behind himself unknowing to Donnas stare following him out the room. 700 years of waiting... and not a year more, she told herself with determination.

─────── · ·

After easily convincing the TARDIS to track your signal in which it happily complied, lights flashing brightly and engines singing, the Doctor could do little to control where the blue box was headed as he scrambled with the controls that appeared to be moving on their own violation.

Donna just sat back in her chair with a large grin on her face, ankle press atop her knee with a cup in one hand, saucer in the other. "Are you seeing this? I've never seen her act like this before, maybe someone has hacked- no thats impossible..." the Doctor was threading his hands through his hair, tugging at the roots as he paced. A part of Donna wanted to tell yet the better part of her knew that it would only add to the reaction so she kept her lips shut, nodding absent-mindedly with each of the space-man's complaints.

"Oh yeah I know, terrible blue box not working for the blue-box man, right?" she pouts before shoving a scone in his face. "I find stress eating helps sometimes, you ever tried it?"

Crumbs falling out of his mouth, the Doctor tries to talk, raising a pointed finger before chocking on the dryness of the pastry, signalling for some water instead. "Both ladies have lost their mind today," the Doctor grumbles to himself receiving a quick swat to the back of his head by his companion.

"Oi! the only mind being lost is your head when I take it if you keep up this attitude, I swear sometimes I'm like your mother, grandmother, and great grandmother," Donna retorts, sitting back down with a huff. The Doctor stays silent, taking a seat beside his companion and finishes the rest of his scone as the TARDIS descends.

"I don't even know if I have a great grandmother," the Doctor takes a look towards Donna out of the corner of his eye.

"Well I'm not going to help you with that one."

─────── · ·

Donna had planned a myriad of excuses yet tried to not act stunned as she didn't need to use them, the Doctor had decided himself that he would be staying within the TARDIS to try and repair whatever 'damage' had been done from the automatic flying.

Setting off down a hill from where the blue box had parked she stumbled into a garden where coincidentally enough she found you getting your portrait done? Donna furrowed her brows, I didn't know you to be so narcissistic. Yet those thoughts are quickly dissolved in seeing your shock ridden face whilst staring at yourself in the painted frame that only grows when another man steps into the frame that you seem to recognize almost instantly that has Donna frowning deeply.

Who are you, what do you think you're doing? She stares at the bow-tie man sharply, ducking out of sight as his eyes chase over the landscape- jumping right past her head. She cannot hear your conversation yet follows at a distance conjouring up another plan on sight.

If memory serves me right... the Doctor asked for your hand after seeing you with the Master more... so if the Doctor sees you now with him... she quickly turns back to the TARDIS, not bothering to say hello to the Doctor as she grabs her camera and storms back out just in time to- she nearly drops her camera at the sight but manages to snap a quick albeit blurry picture.

"Oi! Minster! You get your hands off her! I can’t have you ruining my plan so off you go, shoo!” She watches as you both freeze, glaring at his hand placed high above your raised knee. After what she had seen on the Titanic, Donna's mind was working on overdrive on how quickly you could move on from the Doctor to whoever this was feeling up your leg in an open field.

She watches as the man leans down to whisper something into your ear that has you blush, covering your face in his chest as he grips you tighter. That is the opposite of what I wanted to happen! Donna panics to herself, I need something more threatening...

“If you think I’m playing around that one there has a very angry alien friend that is looking for something to rip his teeth into and it could be you!” Donna tries to persuade further, taking a step closer and she swears to hear you both laughing that only fuels her dissatisfaction with your actions.

So lost in her own anger she does not see you shoving the bow-tied man away from you, her world clattering down at the mention of her name not from your lips... but from his in a warm recognition, “and yes, hello Donna. I’ll leave in a moment just have to make sure the Lady here gets to where she needs to go safely.”

Donna opens and closes her mouth like a fish out of water, how on gods green earth does HE know my name? Yet before she could receive any answers she notices you both had disappeared like mere figments of her imagination. So this is what I get for messing with aliens! Donna sighs, kicking stones back to the TARDIS before remembering the camera strapped around her neck. Maybe things just like work out after all...

─────── · ·

Darting back to the TARDIS will laughing a little bit evilly to herself, she kicked the bottom on the Doctors converse- signalling him to roll himself from out underneath the TARDIS.

He looked a right mess, hair sticking out on all awkward angles a few drops of dried red oil staining his collar and his tie askew. "Whatcha need?" he stands, stretching at near impossible angles that Donna debates being more painful than relieving.

"I have something that you need to see," her face hides nothing on her racing heart as she unfolds the picture from her pocket and is at first met with silence.

The Doctor looked at the blurry image of you being kissed by this random man that somehow knew her name, she explained to the Doctor who did not look to be breathing and made no response. Simply taking the image from her hand and inspecting it closer.

At first she saw how the edges began to crease as his grip tightened, his eyes confirming this to be in fact you. Next was his brow, coming down alongside the corners of his mouth into a deep frown. His head tilted to the slightest degree, suit becoming smaller as his chest heaved and soon the image was crumbed and kicked into the heart of the TARDIS underneath the console, Donna could smell the ashes.

"How long ago was this?" his voice cold and distant and receives no answer, the Doctor asks again, "Was this recent?"

Donna clears her throat, raising her head to meet his darkened stare, gotcha, she smirks to herself, stepping forwards eyes darting towards the door and back to his challenging gaze, "just now-" and the Doctor storms off, door slamming behind him.

The TARDIS whoops and cheers as Donna laughs, "I guess kissing in a TARDIS is close enough to a closet... give or take that its bigger on the inside." The TARDIS does not respond, simply humming contently to itself.

"You sound excited to have them possibly back," she pats the console gently seeing as the buttons press themselves rapidly showing the machines excitement and little did Donna know just how excited the Doctors TARDIS.

─────── · ·

Donna was beginning to be worried after a day had passed and there was still no signs of the Doctor or you returning to the TARDIS nor anywhere near it. Taking on a light jacket Donna walked back up the hill to find the same shed you disappeared in front of hours ago.

Hesitantly raising her hand to knock on the chipped wooden door she hears no movement nor response inside as she pushes the door open and is shocked to find it greatly larger on the inside.

It amazed her how different your TARDIS looked to the Doctors. The warm lighting, various plants and books littered the walls with art from throughout the ages. It looked like a true collectors dream and at the centre of it all, unknowing in their bubble of bliss Donna saw you wrapped in the Doctor's shirt and a pair of socks as you leaned against your console, mug in hand.

The Doctor looked drunk, absolutely plastered, the companion noted to herself in seeing how lazily spread out in an arm chair he was before you, pants all creased and a simple undershirt that did little to cover up the marks upon his cheeks and necks. Donna stayed quiet once seeing her best friends look of pure, softened adoration as he picked up your hand, kissing every knuckle before flipping it over to place one last lingering kiss to your palm.

In response you fell into his lap with a chuckle, fixing his hair gently as he closed his eyes in response, humming in thanks as you both shared a silent conversation that soon was imposed upon when Donna accidentally kicked over one of your smaller plant pots, the clay shattering against the floors as you jumped and reached for your sonic- the Doctor immediately standing and pushing you behind him, a scowl present on his face.

Holding her hands up, Donna took a few more steps forward, "sorry love birds! Just-ah checking in that the two last time lords aren't dead so I can make it home eventually," Donnas tone raises with every word she speaks, embarrassment evident as her cheeks become the same shade as her hair.

She peers around the Doctors back and watches as you press your forehead between his shoulder blades, arms circling around his waist as you giggle to the Doctors annoyed huff as he places his screwdriver back in his pocket. "You two seem to have been... busy," Donna smirks, the initial embarrassment quickly wearing off as you cast her a playful wink.

The Doctor sputters, "Well I-uh, not like that I..." for a response as you move and pick up his arm, placing it across your shoulders. "We were just getting to know each other again," you smile towards the companion your husband had told you all about.

Donna snorts before horror flashes between her eyes, "but what about the other-" you cut her off, "Oh him?" you smile, the Doctor groans, removing himself from the conversation as he sits back down in his chair and reaches for his jacket, placing it across his lap as he smooths out the creases in the fabric, "he was also the Doctor," you smirk.

"But he knew my name?" Donnas statement comes out more like a question that you step forwards, placing a hand against her shoulder in reassurance.

"You are his best-friend after all... are you not?"

Donna hugs you tightly, overjoyed about the news, "so he never found a way to get rid of me- this was better than I was expecting!" You throw your head back in laughter as does Donna.

"Did the Doc ever mention anything about me on your travels?" you question once your laughter dies down, Donna stills, taking a step back as she grits her teeth together, "uh... well..." you raise a brow in a silent ask for her to continue as you sit back in the Doctor lap, his chin resting on your shoulder.

"...well I don't know, he was rather cryptic, something about destroying universes and committing atrocities, you know, the usual for a man with a load of power," and her sarcastic answer tells you all as you turn your head to glare at the Doctor. "You didn't tell her about me?"

The Doctor tenses and presses a kiss to your cheek, "well love I-I- there was so much to say and so little time to say it all in," he smiles confidently at his words as you rolls your eyes and look back at Donna.

"we are going to be good friends," the Doctor shakes his head watching as Donna nods enthusiastically.

"You two are going to be the death of me."

"Like I wasn't already," you jab him in he ribs before offering your hand, "so my ship or yours?"

─────── · ·

The Doctor for the first time was a bit embarrassed that he turned of the chameleon function of his TARDIS leaving you to change yours to a piece of luggage that you carried aboard reassuring the Doctor and Donna that you would in fact not create a paradox as long as you didn't open it inside the Doctor's TARDIS, you just didn't trust leaving your house out in the open, something about human locks Donna remembers you mentioning.

You and the Doctor acted like an old-married couple that Donna swore to grow grew hairs because of. You both bickered endlessly in the morning on where to go, who too meet, what to eat and who got to wear what- it was maddening.

Donna later that day found you both making out on your joint afternoon travels, walking hand in hand down alien streets like no time had passed, and by evening you were back to fighting over who controlled what part of the TARDIS before working in tandem- it was chaos to say the least yet above all, she had never seen the Doctor so... light.

He practically skipped with every step, twirling you every outfit change to take in your appearance, kissing your face every time he would spark a brilliant idea like he couldn't control himself but you controlled him in a way that he needed.

Donna noticed your special ability to keep the Doctor from being his worst self, from becoming just another one of his many enemies. You reminded him of light, love, and most of all... hope. A word that the spaceman had long since forgotten until reuniting with you.

It inspired Donna to know end and to some part she was jealous of seeing others have such a pure love for one another that they couldn't help but spread across the universe. So many times everyone had gotten saved that it became the new regular and even when it was not possible, you held one another on the floor of the console room, a silent comfort in knowing that the other wouldn't have to bare the pain alone.

─────── · ·

On one of your late night conversations as the Doctor steered the TARDIS, you sat in Donna's room, a plate of snacks on the bed for you both to share.

"So... what was the Doctor like as a child?" you smile before taking a big sigh.

"He was a downright menace," you begin with before heavy footsteps can be heard running down the hall stopping at the door.

"You take that back!" the Doctor burst through the door, finger wagging in your face that you swat away yet he can't contain his smile.

"I only speak the truth," you shrug, casting Donna a wink as she smirks from behind her cup watching as the Doctor slips into the bed, sitting behind you.

"If that's the truth than your father loved me to death and Gallifrey was blue," the Doctor scowls, stealing a bite of your biscuit from your hand, "I was a perfectly normal time child."

You wipe away the crumbs off your lap and onto the floor before mouthing to Donna, he set a tree on fire during TARDIS driving lessons 101.

"I hope you know dear that I know over a thousand languages and can in fact lip read." You shift to look up at his face, a finger crooking his chin down to meet have your lips meet, "and what did I say now?"

The Doctor hums contently, "That you love me?" as Donna begins to feel uncomfortable in her own space. You nod, "always.," before gasping in surprise feeling as the Doctor picks you up in his arms.

"Have a goodnight, Donna!" the Doctor calls as you wrap your arms hastily around his neck, cursing his name as the Doctor echos your own.

"Doctor!"

"Lady!~" and you both burst out into giggles. Donna shakes her head as the TARDIS shuts the door behind the couple, they truly will never grow up... will they?

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: Gonna miss these guys!

─ · · FOR ALL TIME TAGLIST: @posionapple24 @azriel64290 @smallerontheoutside @soniiyi @spirit-of-the-hollow @f0x33 @blackoutdays13 @dlljdhsh @staygoldsquatchling02 @athenxt @whatislifebutlemons @cardanxjude20 @zara-aliza08

#fanfic #fanfiction #simp-ly #simp-ly-writes #x reader #doctor who #doctor who fanfic #tenth doctor #10th doctor #doctor who fanfiction #doctor x reader #10th doctor x reader #doctor who x reader #tenth doctor x reader #david tennant x reader #for all time

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mandalhoerian · 4 months ago

Text

(3) 🦭 signed, sealed, delivery pending...

The seal you rescued coming back to the same cove might be momentary serendipity meant to be wow-ed at from afar like one does a documentary, but you're determined to take it as an opportunity of a lifetime to gain his trust and prove yourself as a Disney princess. He's going to become your friend. Period.

genre: fluff, comedy | word count: 6K | read on ao3

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note: i need you guys to see this to visualize what the reader does when the grinch gets mentioned. i almost burst my appendix laughing at it idc if its not funny. please enjoy!!!!

You almost get grounded. For till college.

But being the center of attention in your friend group and the story of a wound that will leave the coolest scar are totally worth the perma ticket booth sentence (jail).

It's not all that bad. It's just that, instead of loading cargo or directing people or helping out the passengers, you got sentenced to boredom, stuck behind a window, taking payment and handing out change and never allowed to leave. Plus, everyone knows you. Which means that no, the ticket master metaphorically posing with a Yu-Gi-Oh duel disk can't give discounts to the old lady who brings you a crocheted hat, or to the fisherman who promises to bring a fresh catch of mackerel to your family's kitchen, or to the little girl who wants to go see the seals, has no cash and can only pay with a bag of homemade cookies...

Speaking of seals, you go back to that beach, a week after the incident when your grounding is more flexible.

But of course, there's no trace of that adorable rascal. You feel a little sad, a little disappointed, a little under the influence of the magical encounter that had you daydreaming you could be Snow White. Then again, you wouldn't want him to hang around in fishing areas. You hope he's doing alright, somewhere, hopefully, not getting caught in nets anymore.

Elias tells you that the seal colony on the islet has forms during breeding and pupping season each year during late spring and early summer, and when he hears you recounting the event and describing the seal, you find out that the one you saved is not one of them.

Apparently, pups are tiny. The one you rescued was either a juvenile or a sub-adult, though the gender is still unclear. You're a little stunned, having expected to have rescued a baby, not an adolescent. Elias explains how the rookery is a nursery area, and females tend to congregate there to give birth. Male seals are territorial and competitive, and often live in the surrounding waters. So maybe that seal was a male weaned off of the same rookery. If you had saved a female, the chances of ever seeing her again would have been higher, since they return to the same rookeries and stay there for a couple months. Males, on the other hand...

Well, at the end of the day, he's probably long gone.

Wrong.

You eventually encounter him on the same small cove the following week. In broad daylight this time.

Dad has hired a couple of staff members to help out, so you have a lot more free time to enjoy your friends and explore the archipelago. Despite the time restrictions. So, even though going back to where you met the seal for the first time was born out of hope to see him again at first, it's also about conveniennce with how close it is to home unironically, and therefore, not violating curfew rules.

So, it's just another day with your picnic basket and beach towel, heading out to the shore in your shorty wetsuit. You have a novel to finish, some music to listen to, snacks to munch on, and the promise of long-awaited solitude to savor.

You've just set up your blanket and opened the book when a loud bark scares the shit out of you.

Startled, you whip around to find the source of the sound — and gasp as a large, gray shape emerges from the water, lumbering towards you with clumsy bounces that echo with the 'boing, boing, boing' sound effect in your head, dragging its blubbery body across the sand and stopping at the edge of your blanket.

You can't quite comprehend what's happening right now, transfixed by the cute, pink tongue peeking out of its mouth as it tries to catch its breath.

It's the exact same seal from before, his familiar markings and the faint scars of the netting you untangled him from unmistakable.

The same seal that was supposed to have swam away to freedom. The same seal that's supposed to be a wild, feral, unpredictable animal is here, looking at you, waiting for something, making an occasional huff and snuffle the more you stay unresponsive.

You're frozen in place, unable to react, mind racing, trying to make sense of the situation. A part of you wonders if this is a dream, but the gritty sensation of the sand in your flippers that reminds you of your discomfort and the warm rays of the sun on your skin assure you otherwise.

Finally, the seal seems to grow impatient and shuffles closer, nuzzling his whiskered nose against your knee, the gesture somehow both gentle and insistent, coaxing you to react. His fur is damp and cool, and you swear his dark, round, limpid black eyes are staring straight into your soul, a knowing intelligence lurking within his soft, expressive depths.

"There's no way," you gawk, not knowing where to put your hands and they flail for a couple seconds in excitement.

He's approached you willingly, showing no signs of distress or aggression, and in fact, he seems oddly not on guard. He's not a pup, and yet he's displaying behavior that's more suited to domesticated dogs, not a marine mammal that's supposed to avoid humans. Seals are curious creatures by nature, and encounters with people aren't unheard of, but this level of familiarity is unusual considering the traumatic circumstances under which the two of you initially met.

"Hello, hi, oh my god, hi, hello???" You try cautiously, not daring to reach out and touch him, but keeping your tone soothing and welcoming. You're actually going to scare him off if you let out the squeals roaring inside. "How are you doing, buddy? Is that really you?"

The seal's whiskers twitch in response to the sound of your words, his head cocked to one side in a manner that suggests attentive listening. It's almost as if he recognizes your presence, and that thought sends a shivery thrill through you.

"You remember me?" you ask, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. Your heart leaps as his head waves up and down. You choose to take that gesture as a yes instead of the air sniffing to vibe-check you that it actually is. "That's so sweet of you!"

A low, rumbling noise reverberates from deep within the seal's nose, and you can't help the giggle that escapes you. It sounds like a cross between a snort and a grumble, a strangely endearing combination that's distinctly his own.

"I'm not sure what to make of this," you continue, feeling more at ease in his company, despite the absurdity of the situation. "What are you doing here? Saw me and wanted to hang out?"

His only answer is a single, melodious yowl, followed by a series of chirps that resemble the playful squeaks of a dolphin. You can't help the warmth that spreads through you at the sound, a sudden fondness for the strange, gentle creature washing over you as he flops closer to lie just beside your blanket like you two are friends sitting next to each other, rolling onto his belly and stretching his front flippers in a leisurely, cat-like stretch. You're not a trained zoologist, but his behavior is clearly indicative of trust, and that's enough to convince you that the connection you feel isn't imagined. This is the most peculiar, wonderful surprise you've ever had. And the best part is that, in the middle of a summer vacation that had been filled with ups and downs, you have made an unlikely friend...

Oh, he's actually sunbathing. With you.

And his coat looks healthy. That's good.

The way his head looks when he closes his eyes... Like a content bean, a happy, satisfied little guy. So cute.

God, you can't pet him.

The seal expert in the island is Elias, who works with the conservation team on the rookery islet. Maybe someday, if things come to that, he could guide you, but for now, you're not risking harming him in any way. Especially not after rescuing him from a near-death experience.

He opens his eyes when he hears scratching. Particularly, you scratching along the seams of the bandages on your forearm. You haven't realized you had been unconsciously picking on them because of the itch till the moment the seal's penetrating stare burns on the area. How peculiar. He seems to possess object permanence regarding the injury and understand the concept of wounds, or at least the effects of them. Or are you delusional?

"Curious, huh," you say, pulling your hand back and flexing the muscles in the arm to relieve some of the irritation. "You remember this as well? It's your love bite, bud."

The seal makes a soft, inquisitive grunt, and then begins to inch his way across the sand to make it back to the sea, and a disappointment that makes your face fall down settles upon you at the prospect of him leaving already.

"Oh..." you mumble. "Leaving so soon?"

But the seal doesn't seem to be departing. Instead, he dives gracefully beneath the surface of the water, disappearing from view. Confused but intrigued, you remain seated, watching the rippling waves with bated breath. After several long, anxious moments, a silvery fish bursts forth from the depths, thrashing wildly in the seal's jaws. He bites down fiercely, severing the life of the fish in an instant and sending a spurt of blood into the salty brine. Then, he swims back to shore and boing-boing-boings over to deposit the lifeless prey at your feet, his tail slapping eagerly against the wet ground, dark, round, expressive wet eyes shining bright with pride and excitement.

It's a gift. You're certain of that. A token of gratitude, perhaps, or a symbol of camaraderie.

"Oh, thank you," you say, genuinely touched by the gesture. "You're such a gentleman. But I'm not hungry, so... Actually, do you want to share it together? Would that be okay?" You pause, studying the seal's reactions carefully. "Yeah, that's what we're doing."

With that, you reach for the fish, its cold, slippery scales slick against your palm, and break it in half with a fruit knife you brought along in your picnic basket, setting one portion aside and offering the other to the seal. He sniffs at the proffered meal, whiskers quivering, before opening his mouth to accept it. You watch in fascination as his powerful teeth tear into the flesh, marveling at the delicate balance of predator and companion that exists between the two of you. There's something about sharing a meal with a wild animal who caught it for you in the first place, that feels sacred. Ancient, and special.

"You know what, you can have my half, I’m really full," you concede, not being able to resist his eager gluttony. You decide to share with him since he shared with you, as well. "Sorry if I'm not much of a huntress, but here's a little treat that'll blow your mind. Hopefully." You start rummaging through your belongings, searching the contents of the basket. "Let's see, let's see... Aha! Here it is!"

When you turn around, you nearly jump out of your skin to find the seal right there behind you, looking at the basket curiously. He seems very interested in the container. Maybe he's figured out it contains food, somehow. Could seals smell through a plastic lid?

"Woah, woah, hey, easy," you murmur softly, reaching up to gently boop him on the nose and watch in fascination as his entire head disappears by sinking into his body at the contact.

Oh!

Oh no.

You're going to die. Cuteness overload. Right here, in front of him, and on this day. It's like his skull has disappeared and his blubbery neck absorbed his face into his torso. If the purpose is to protect himself from predators, that's not the vibe the gesture is giving. At all.

Holding the container of sashimi, you let him take a peek at the contents. When his nose starts wiggling and his tail starts flapping, you can't help the grin that breaks out. He seems to have understood that whatever is inside is edible, and his eagerness is infectious, sending a jolt of glee and satisfaction coursing through you at the thought of providing him with a new experience.

"Look, look, this is called sashimi," you explain, selecting a small piece of raw salmon and holding it out on your palm. The seal sniffs at the morsel tentatively, his nostrils flaring, before he darts his tongue out and wraps it around the slice of fish, pulling it into his mouth.

He's so gentle with it too, not even nipping at the flesh of the hand that's feeding him. Just a soft, light brush of his tongue, and a content, satisfied swallow, and the taste must have been to his liking, because he emits a low, throaty squeak of pleasure, a sound that sends a warm, fuzzy feeling fluttering through your chest. Has he been socialized at some point in the past to know how to take food from humans, maybe by fishermen or tourists? Is he simply a naturally affectionate creature? You fully expected him to be more cautious around humans given his recent trauma, and yet, here he is, demonstrating an openness that defies all expectations and assumptions.

"Well, you've got good taste," you remark with a chuckle, watching as his tail thumps excitedly on the sand, signaling for another serving. The sight of him making a 'begging' pose in the most literal sense melting your heart. "Fine, you can have it all. But only because you're so charming."

One by one, you feed the remaining pieces of sashimi to him, fascinated by the feel of his smooth, pink velvety tongue against your fingertips each time he accepts a bite one would being licked by a cat or a dog. His enthusiasm is contagious, and you can't help the laughter that bubbles up in your own throat, a bright, sparkling sound that rings across the deserted stretch of coastline and makes him perk up and look up at you, head tilted in curiosity, a sort of startled, wide-eyed, puppy-dog stare.

"Aw, sorry," you apologize, realizing that the volume of your laughter might have overwhelmed him. "I'm just happy. Happy to be here, with you. This is the best beach date I've ever had."

You watch, in real time, as the seal sputters from his nose, the recoil of his jiggling body rocking him backward and to the side as he avoids eye contact in a manner that parallels dogs when they’re being recorded, and finally decides to completely flee back to the sea.

You blink, speechless, trying to figure out what you did wrong.

"...Was my laugh that ugly?"

You are convinced this is a good idea.

You’ve seen the TikToks. You know the method. You’ve watched professionals do this with thousand-pound animals that could kick them into the next dimension, and it works.

And sure, your friend is technically a seal and not a horse, but the principle is the same. Desensitization. You introduce scary things in a safe, controlled way, and boom — no more spooky, jumpy reactions.

It’s foolproof.

If it has to be something like doing crazy dances with a plastic bag or throwing a duvet over their heads to trigger less anxiety, then so be it. There is logic and science behind this method, even though it requires you to humiliate yourself in front of a wild animal and hope that there isn't a secret camera hidden somewhere recording you acting like a clown and saving the clip online to become meme fuel.

"Alright, bud," you announce, stretching your arms like a coach psyching up a particularly useless team. "Today's the day."

If you expect anything resembling acknowledgment, the seal gives none; instead, he seems content to continue nibbling delicately at a lump of kelp, ignoring you completely while reclining on his side like a Victorian noblewoman on a fainting couch atop a sun-baked rock. His sleek gray coat glistens brightly as he sprawls across the stone, flippers twitching lazily as his attention wanders in search of tasty tidbits amongst the fronds of green algae still trailing from his mouth.

Seeing him this relaxed sends a wave of relief through you. Your relationship has improved exponentially since that first day the two of you officially met. He's grown noticeably more accustomed to interacting with you without showing any signs of fear or discomfort. You're no longer regarded with suspicion or alarm whenever you approach — instead, he welcomes you, greeting your presence with cheerful squeaks and soft snorts that always send warm fuzzies flying all across your cheeks. Not that you keep score, but lately, he's been initiating more interactions than before, nudging you with his nose, pawing gently at your leg to draw your attention, even resting beside you whenever he gets the chance, seeking comfort in your closeness in ways that leave you giddy with happiness.

"AAAA!" you shout, stretching your arms in a T-pose to make yourself look bigger.

The seal violently flops to the side, rolling down the small incline of the surrounding rocks like a giant, damp potato.

"Oh my god!" You rush to help him with choked laughter, kneeling at his side while he struggles to get his balance and reclines up on his flippers.

He shoots you the ugliest death glare.

"I'm sorry," you say, forcing your lips into a thin line to hold back your smile. "Was I too scary?"

The seal huffs sharply in response, causing a few loose strands of hair to fall over your face from the wind. Then he reaches his head forward, and slowly, deliberately, rubs his cheek against your bandaged forearm before flopping back down. It takes you several seconds to recover from the attack of cuteness, by which time the seal has rolled around again in the direction opposite of you so that only his round, puffy butt faces toward where you kneel in the sand.

Pouting. Definitely pouting. It's so adorable, did he get embarrassed? Ahhhhh!

You spend the next few minutes running around the seal and making unexpected movements like a drunk ostrich on sugar rush just to see how he'd react, following that up with a sorcerer in the middle of a magic attack combo with flicking jazz hands right to his face, then re-enacting that one scene from How the Grinch Stole Christmas in which the titular character tries to scare of Cindy Lou by barking at her face acting crazy in a little step forward-and-back dance with claw-hands, looking like you were about to attack him but faking him out at the last second.

Needless to say, you get nothing other than keen interest like you were a jester and he was the king sitting in the audience taking great pleasure in your performance, full-on radiating medieval royalty urge to always have entertainment while eating.

You decide to change tactics. Step one: Introduce the Object.

From your backpack, you pull out a bright blue towel and give it a dramatic shake.

“See this?” You wave it like a deranged matador. “It’s just a towel. Harmless. Normal. Not scary.”

His whiskers twitch. His head tilts slightly, like you’ve just shown him a complex tax form.

You wave it again, closer this time. “Ooooooo, look, it moooves. It flaps. It’s just fabric.”

Still no reaction.

Encouraged, you take a step closer, still waving the towel like you’re trying to summon a demon. “See? It’s fine. Totally normal. You don’t have to be scared.”

The seal makes a noise — something between a huff and a chirp.

Then he snorts.

You freeze.

Did… did this seal just laugh at you?

No. That’s ridiculous. Animals don’t laugh. You’re being paranoid.

Step Two: Make Contact.

“I’m just gonna touch you with it a little, okay?” you say in your best soothing horse-trainer voice.

He does not, in fact, agree to this.

But he also doesn’t move away as you gently drape the towel over his back.

Success!

Or at least, it is success, right up until you start rubbing the towel over him like you’ve seen in the videos, mimicking the slow, rhythmic motions that are supposed to be calming.

“Good boy,” you murmur, nodding approvingly. “See? Nothing to be scared of. Just a towel. A friendly, normal—”

The seal erupts.

One second, he’s still. The next, his entire body vibrates like a malfunctioning washing machine.

Then — he flops.

Not just any flop. A dramatic, full-body collapse into the sand, legs flailing, his head rolling back in what you can only describe as unhinged, wheezing laughter.

You just stand there, gripping the towel, watching this damn seal lose his mind.

He keeps snorting. His non-existent shoulders shake. He slaps the sand with one flipper, no different than an old man gasping for air between belly laughs.

You recoil. “Am I being fucking laughed at by a seal right now? Nah. Naaaah, that can't be.”

He lets out an actual honking noise.

Your face burns. “I am trying to help you, you little sea rat!”

A loud, loud crying. More slapping.

He is mocking you. This has to be mocking. Or is it that your own self-consciousness has finally manifested in the world and acquired a shape? Maybe that's why this feels like teasing; maybe you're projecting.

With a defeated sigh, you plop onto the sand beside him, still gripping the towel like it holds the last shreds of your dignity.

Well, at least you found out he is desensitized, alright. A win is a win.

The following weeks, the island's weather grows warmer. And, with the rising temperature, the seal's visits become more and more frequent, almost daily, until his company becomes a constant fixture of your free time.

It's a bizarre, inexplicable relationship that defies all reason and logic — that a seal would hop on land to come visit instead of being encountered while swimming. A wild marine mammal that should fear and distrust humans has decided to form a bond with you, seeking your presence out of his own accord, and showing an intelligence that goes beyond instinctual behavior.

At least, that's what you're inclined to believe. You're no expert. Just an observer of this delightful, unexpected friendship that has bloomed between the two of you.

You're not sure what draws him to the tiny, secluded cove where you've been meeting him, nor do you understand why he chooses to stay on the shore with you, sunbathing on the warm sands and indulging in the snacks and treats you bring him, rather than returning to the open ocean. But every time you arrive, he's there, waiting, a large, lumbering shape that barks and squeaks upon seeing you, waddling over to greet you as though you're an old friend.

His trust is a precious thing, a fragile, irreplaceable treasure that you cherish dearly. And, in return, he shows a level of affection that would put many a domestic animal to shame.

He nuzzles against your legs, rolls over to reveal his belly, and even allows you to touch and stroke the soft, supple fur on his head sometimes if he feels like it that day. It's a privilege, a gift, and you're acutely aware of the responsibility that comes with such intimacy. You handle him gently, cautiously, mindful of his comfort and well-being, and never pushing past the limits of his tolerance or patience.

You learn to read his cues, to recognize the signs of contentment and discomfort in his posture and vocalizations. When he's relaxed, his body language is loose, his limbs splayed out on the ground in a lazy, sprawling manner that suggests a deep, boneless ease. He grunts and chirps in a low, rhythmic cadence that seems to express his pleasure and satisfaction, and the sound is oddly soothing, a gentle, melodic counterpoint to the steady, pulsing rush of the waves crashing nearby. Snorts and snuffles are indicators of inquisitiveness and curiosity, while a high-pitched whistle signals excitement and happiness, often accompanied by an enthusiastic wagging of his tail that resembles the motion of a dog's. When he's upset or nervous, his entire body stiffens and he pulls away from your touch, a clear signal to give him space and respect his boundaries.

You're proud to say you haven't discovered his anger yet, but the day you walk in on a tourist group in your cove becomes the answer to your question.

This isn't the rookery. There are no guides or rangers to keep everyone in check. These tourists are on their own, exploring, and they have stumbled upon the wrong spot. They're being stupid, and the worst part is that they're not even breaking the law. The fact that the seal is in the water is enough not to be trespassing, and therefore, not punishable.

As you approach the crowd gathering around a particular spot, your heart clenches at the sight of your friend cornered into a small cave, no — more like a fissure in the rock formations that surround the cove, that reaches just ten meters from the shore.

These guys want a picture with the seal, which has gone hostile obvious from his jaw making snapping motions and is trying to dive back into the sea as far from them as possible.

It's all because he was waiting for you here.

There's nothing you can do other than run towards them. And maybe distract them by waving your arms frantically and screaming, "What the hell are you doing?! Didn't you see the sign that says this area is private?!"

You know lecturing them about how they're causing distress to the animal is futile, so, Karen-mode it is.

Surprisingly, it works, and they run off. But not before complaining and whining about how "there's no fucking harm in this".

Sure, asshole. There’s no harm in distressing the poor seal that shows obvious signs of wanting to be left alone.

After taking care of them (read: screaming at them) and calling Elias to come get rid of them, you rush back to the beach to make sure your seal is okay.

He won't look at you.

If there's anything you learned the hard way is that a wild animal never acts erratically without reason, whether it be a bird pecking insistently at a window or a rabbit darting across the road when you least expect it. So it stands to reason that if your companion completely ignores you as he makes it out of the cave and makes a beeline towards the sea, he must have a valid cause for doing so.

Maybe you were too close to these strangers, maybe your intimidation and aggression were too much for him.

You hope he knows you'd never put him in danger willingly.

"Wait," you call out after him, raising your hand above your head to attract his attention and willing your frantic heartbeat to settle back down into a normal rhythm. You don't want to frighten him further by shouting or running up behind him, chasing him down — the last thing you need is to scare him off altogether after working so hard to gain his trust.

To your amazement, he actually pauses, hovering midway between the cave and the water, hesitating, glancing warily back at you over his shoulder. It's eerie sometimes that he reacts how a human would, but also quite remarkable. You're positive it means he understands you, that your interactions carry meaning for him.

But now that he's stopped, you don't know what to say. Hey, sorry some jerks scared the shit out of you. I don't know them. Please don't think I lured them here to you.

Why would you have this conversation with a seal?

So, you walk up slowly to the spot where he still stands, and then sit down crosslegged next to him on the sandy rocks that divide land from sea, trying to appear nonthreatening and reassuring in equal measure. For several long, excruciating moments, the only sounds are the distant cries of seagulls overhead, the restless rustle of the surf rushing back and forth against the shore, and your own breathing growing faster the longer the silence stretches on.

He allows you to remain there, and doesn't delve back into the waters either, so that's something. You still have his trust. You could also cry about still having his trust. What a wonderful being.

"I'm sorry," you offer tentatively, hoping that the note of sorrow ringing through your words will convey the depth of regret behind those two simple syllables. "They weren't supposed to come here."

His round, wet nose twitches rapidly, whiskers bobbing with every flicker and flutter, his sleek, blubbery body shifting subtly from side to side. His tail slaps the sand in a frenzy, kicking up sprays of loose soil and scattering fragments of seashells in all directions. "Gegh!" he screams all of a sudden, making you jump. "Ggighphh!"

"Okay, I hear you," you reassure him hastily. "Next time I'll yell at them harder."

"Gyeeaaagh..."

"Uh huh, that's better. I hear you."

"Greph, l'egg!"

"Do you forgive me?"

"Miphhh."

"Oh, you’re so sweet…”

A week passes before you try to meet him again, giving him ample time to recover.

He never reappeared when you came by alone to the cove after your usual duties ended — you began wondering if maybe the incident left him traumatized, too sensitive to want to risk further confrontation — but there's a sense of relief in knowing that he hasn't abandoned you entirely.

When you step onto the beach one morning, bright and early before the sun has fully risen above the horizon, his dark shape emerges from the waves to greet you once more, shambling awkwardly across the pebbles as though eager to confirm your presence, and your heart absolutely leaps at seeing him back.

Something about this meeting feels different than before, there's a rush in his mannerisms that wasn't there previously, and as he approaches, you notice his head is uncharacteristically held low. It reminds you of a child who has something important to say but doesn't know how, or dare, to begin talking.

He stops just a few feet away from where you're standing, staring resolutely at the ground instead of maintaining direct visual contact, and remains completely silent save for an occasional chirrup that seems directed inward more than toward you.

"Hey, buddy," you begin softly, afraid to disturb the quiet. "How've you been? Long time no see. Missed ya, little rascal."

He explodes with an accusing, "Ya!" and smacks his front flipper on the sand as punctuation. The sneeze that follows is rough. "Hphaaa — mmphm..."

"Ohhkay, wow, someone sure is pissed today," you raise a brow.

He doesn't like that.

And for the first time, you witness a temper tantrum from him.

He barks loudly, tail flapping and nostrils flaring in frustration as he tosses himself back and forth across the sands, flopping wildly, kicking his finned tail and letting out shrill cries of outrage whenever you start approaching closer. Even as you stand a safe distance away, he continues to glare balefully up at you, snuffling and squealing disapprovingly as though offended that you're even present during such an intense bout of sulking.

Witnessing the rare display of bad humor has your shoulders shaking uncontrollably in fits of giggles despite the fact that he's acting irrationally, which is kind of rude from your end because obviously it can't be funny from his. But when you manage to contain yourself and regain some semblance of composure, you notice that his dramatic display has evolved into something more reminiscent of theatrics of an overgrown puppy trying its hardest to prove its ferociously cute point, and not the primordial rage fit that you thought initially. His face is scrunched up as if stuck halfway between a yawn and a grimace; his eyelids squeezed tightly shut while his mouth gapes wide open, showing off rows of sharp, deadly teeth and pink gums.

It's such a hilarious sight, such a ridiculous pose, that before you know what you're doing, you're reaching down to tickle under his chin lightly — unable to quench down your need to pet and coo at him despite his obvious agitation — and surprise surprise, instead of biting off your entire arm clean off, he goes still beneath your fingers for a moment.

"Oh you're such a cute baby boy. Cute, silly baby. You've got anger issues, mister, huh? Yes, yes, yes, who's the toughest seal ever, huh? Who's the cutest, most adorable seal in the whole wide world?"

To your amazement, he lets you do it, humming softly in response to the gentle rubs and pats, his body relaxing under your ministrations until eventually he closes his eyelids altogether and allows you to continue petting him without interruption or complaint, emitting low growls of contentment in place of displeasure.

"Aw... You missed me that much? Don't worry, I'm not gonna leave ever again unless you ask." Getting to pet him — ever, for the matter — wasn't exactly something planned, so you were bending at the waist, but the way this is going smoothly, you end up sitting down to keep doing it. You smile fondly at the way his gray, dry fur (which indicates he's been on land for a good while) bristles outward beneath your fingertips. "Beautiful, beautiful baby boy. So handsome! Yup, yup, yup..."

Suddenly, his whole body goes rigid.

Then, abruptly, without warning, he moves like a missle, rolling himself onto his side so that he's facing you directly, twisting his torso toward you with unexpected agility, and rests the topmost part of his torso against yours, nuzzling his head along your neck gently. With a start, you realize what he's attempting to do: hug you.

As soon as you comprehend the significance of what is happening, you throw your arms around his broad, muscular form in return and lean forward instinctively, returning the embrace eagerly despite the awkwardness of the angle due to his size relative to your own physique.

"Ghiilaghiiii," he drawls out, the vibrations rumbling deeply inside of him resonating throughout your body in waves until they reach every corner of your being and gets you almost dizzy with elation. "Phyaaaaaaggghhieeeeeehgllll..."

Is it normal to be in tears after such an action? Because here you go. This seal has missed you, wanted a hug and made sure to deliver. How wonderful life is.

"I missed you more, you lovely angel. Thank you for wanting my company still," you sniffle happily into his fluffy coat, inhaling the musky scent of saltwater mixed with fresh sea spray that surrounds him like an invisible cloud. He should smell like fish or algae, but weirdly, he smells nice. And clean. How does a mammal even manage to get this fragrant when living in water? It shouldn't make any sense whatsoever, especially considering how much time he spends in the surf each day yet manages not to get sticky or covered in crusty buildups of dried plankton like most seals tend to develop after spending prolonged periods submerged undersea. "I'm so happy you don't hate me and decided to stay. I thought I had scared you away forever..."

He makes a sound like blowing raspberry at you, whacking his nose against your collarbone roughly enough that you wince inwardly but refrain from complaining aloud, not wishing to discourage him from enjoying the contact.

"Can I stroke you right here as well?"

You know he knows what's going on because he gives an approving hoot at your inquiry, tilting his head upwards against yours momentarily before resting it back atop your collarbones, letting loose a series of joyful chittering noises that sound distinctly like laughter. If nothing else convinces you of his intelligence then this certainly does the trick. An ordinary wild animal wouldn't react in such an interactive way nor would it care enough about interacting with another species unless desperate or curious, yet he has chosen to engage with you consistently since the two of you met all those weeks ago.

"Who is a good little cutie pie? Who is my gorgeous little sweetheart?"

This is probably getting overboard, but he clearly enjoys it based upon how excitedly he flops about while getting fussed over, his long tail beating happily against the sand each time you speak praise unto him in the rythym of your pets. Clearly delighted by this sudden affectionate assault, he bounces and chirrups playfully whenever you pause between complimenting him, eager to receive attention regardless if he comprehends fully the meaning behind it.

Eventually, though, things become less amusing for you due to the amount of strength needed for you to maintain both the position as well as support his huge head (noticing it was very dense and surprisingly heavier than it looked), forcing you to eventually call timeout.

However, before letting him free completely from the hug, you decide to give him a kiss on the nose that instantly turns your insides into mush as you see him close his giant, round, glistening black eyes for a fraction of second like a cat would before blinking them open again, gazing deeply straight into yours and holding your stare.

And proceeds to sneeze directly into your face.

"Thanks. Now we're officially best friends," you proclaim solemnly while wiping spit off your face.

You name him Raf.

You're not entirely sure how you came up with the name, to be honest. Maybe you overheard a tourist saying a variation of 'Raf' or 'Rat' or something similar and subconsciously picked it up from there? Who knows? The only thing you remember is that one moment you were teasing him about naming him 'Crybaby' -- 'BB' for short, and the next you hear yourself muttering 'Raf' out loud like something within your brain clicked. Like it was whispered right into your ear.

When you said it aloud for the first time, Raf perked up so intensely that you realized instantly the name was perfect for him. There was no doubt whatsoever — this was his name. A fitting, powerful one for such a gentle spirit that just happens to sound like a person's name.

But of course, when asked, you say it's short for riff-raff.

#love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #rafayel fluff #rafayel #lads rafayel x reader #lads rafayel x you #l&ds rafayel x reader #lnds rafayel x reader #lads rafayel #l&ds rafayel #lnds rafayel #lads #lnds #l&ds #qi yu #rafayel qi #qi yu x reader

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imbatmanssecretchild · 3 months ago

Text

PART TWOOOO OF BATFAM X NEGLECTED READER THAT GOT MARRIED

Your partner wrapped their arms around you, noticing how stiff you were as you stared out the window.

“They didn’t even know how old I was,” you whispered, voice cracking. “They never cared. Not really.”

Your partner pressed a kiss to your temple. “They don’t get to take your happiness from you anymore.”

And they didn’t. Because for the first time, you felt like you chose your life.

Bruce stood in front of the Batcomputer, bringing up files, surveillance, anything he could use to check on you. But the deeper he dug, the more he realized—he didn’t know anything about you anymore.

No favorite hangouts. No recent hobbies. No new emergency contacts.

Alfred, standing silently behind him, finally spoke:

“You waited too long, Master Bruce.”

Bruce didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Because deep down… he knew Alfred was right.

It started with Dick showing up on your doorstep.

Bright smile. Sad eyes. Holding a gift bag.

“Hey! I, uh… heard about the wedding. I’m really sorry I missed it. I would’ve been there if I knew—”

You cut him off, leaning against the doorframe. “You didn’t even text me on my birthday, Dick.”

He flinched. “That’s fair, I just… we all messed up. Can we talk?”

You paused. Then stepped aside. “Ten minutes. My partner’s baking, and I’d rather not waste a good mood.”

Oof.

Then came Tim.

He emailed you first. Like a coward.

Subject: Please Read This.

Body: I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve to be ignored. I should’ve been a better brother. I hope you’re safe and happy.

You replied two days later.

Short. Cold. But honest.

“I am safe. I am happy. That’s all that matters now.”

Jason didn’t say anything until he showed up at a small bookstore you liked. You were browsing romance novels when you felt someone looming.

“Didn’t think you’d go full Hallmark movie,” he joked. “Marriage, a house, the whole nine yards.”

You didn’t even look at him. “It’s almost like being treated like a human makes me want to live like one.”

“…Yeah. I deserved that.”

He bought your books before you could. You let him. Small win for him, maybe.

Damian didn’t understand what he was feeling until he saw you again in person.

You were out walking your dog (a gift from your partner, because of course they listened when you said you wanted one), and he stopped dead in his tracks.

“…You got a dog.”

You didn’t break your stride. “I got a life, Dami. You should try it.”

He didn’t say anything. Just stood there, watching you walk away.

You didn’t even look back.

Bruce came last.

It wasn’t dramatic. No Batmobile. No suit. Just him, outside your house, staring up at the window. Waiting.

When you answered, you didn’t even pretend to be surprised. “Took you long enough.”

He looked older than you remembered. Guilt does that.

“I was hoping to talk,” he said. “Not as Batman. Not even as your father. Just as someone who made a mistake.”

You leaned on the doorframe again, like muscle memory.

“You didn’t make a mistake, Bruce. You made a pattern.”

He winced.

You let the silence stretch before sighing. “I don’t hate you. I’m just… not yours anymore.”

Bruce nodded. Slowly. Painfully.

“I understand.”

You didn’t invite him in.

And that was your choice.

Later that night, your partner found you curled on the couch, scrolling through old messages.

They sat beside you. “You okay?”

You nodded. “Just thinking. They’re finally paying attention.”

“And?”

You smiled. Bittersweet. But real.

“I don’t need them to. Not anymore.”

If I decide to do a part three would you guys want yandere or not? 🤭

#batfam #batfamily #batman #platonic #family

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joooooniecore · 22 days ago

Text

After all this time - Chapter 6

Your friends have been successful enough to drag you out of your workaholic routine for a vacation out of country.

The only problem? Your long term crush who actually used to be your best friend is also going there. And he is bringing his girlfriend, your ex-female best friend.

What could go wrong? Right?

✧˖* pairing: ex-bestfriend!mingyu x f!reader

✧˖* chapter count: master-list

✧˖* genre: ex-best friend mingyu, friends to strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, angst, slow-burn, smut.

✧˖* playlist: spotify playlist

✧˖* full work warnings: resurfaced old feelings, toxic relationship(not between the main characters), angst, confusions, resentments, past misunderstandings, a very slow burn

✧˖* explicit warnings: penetration, explicit language, cursing, bodily fluids, praising, body worship.

✧˖* author's note: sorry for not posting this chapter on time. i was severely sick and couldn't get out of bed for five days straight, hence couldn't edit this thing and post it. i hope you like this chapter. this is a long chapter as i wanted to keep the palace tour in one chapter only. did you feel the willingness of mingyu to be friends again? kinda frustrating to not know what he thinks right? well no worries, you will love the next chapter. anyways, thank you to everyone who reached out to see why i delayed the post. i love yall!<3

--- love, artemis.

✧˖* tag-list: @ana-marais98 @hellosighsophy-blog @ppaia @mingyuisthevictimofsvt @tokitosun @iarayara @cheolliesvt @seungcheolsblackcard @alohacrispyrn @lilylikesthat

COMMENT TO BE IN THE TAG-LIST!<3

The next morning, luckily you woke up right on time. You had set an alarm for 6 o’ clock because you wanted to have a slow morning just for yourself. You got out of your heavy blanket, a bit unwillingly and decided to freshen up first and then dress up well. You love winter fashion and you have brought some good clothes but you were too tired to dress up since the last two or three days. Now that you have time for your own, you decided to dress up like you always do.

You decided to wear a short black velvet dress, with a body warmer below. You paired it with thick stockings and black boots. Throwing a long black overcoat over the outfit, you stood in front of the mirror admiring yourself. Normally a person wouldn’t want to wear boots to a tour of a castle but the boots you own were extremely comfortable and actually didn’t hurt a bit. After putting on some light makeup, you decided to get out of your room and get some breakfast.

You kept the coat on the sofa and decided to get yourself a bowl of cereals. You were not in a mood to make something so this was the easiest way out. The microwave dinged indicating that the milk was warmed up. You chose a cereal and sat on the table, taking bites as you scrolled through your emails.

By the time you were done with your breakfast, you saw the others slowly approaching the dining area. You gave a radiant smile to Chan as he greeted you back with a soft ‘good morning’.

Seungcheol came in next as he grumbled about having to wake up this early. He poured himself some coffee and sat beside you on the sofa, slowly sipping it. You on the other hand opened the book you were reading and skimmed through the pages, clearly trying to not get bothered by Maya.

“Are you trying to ignore Maya?”, whispered Seungcheol.

“Kind of.”, you answered awkwardly.

“Good. She deserves that. I would have punched her face but I don’t think you would like that.”, Seungcheol joked as he flexed his muscles.

This made you laugh as you patted his back and promised to bring him with you whenever you needed a bodyguard.

Soon everyone was done with breakfast as Seungkwan announced that it was finally time to go. You got up, fixing your dress as you wore your coat and the boots that were waiting for you in front of the main door. As soon as you got out of the bungalow, you could feel a pair of eyes on you. You looked up to see Mingyu quickly turn towards Maya and walk up to the front gate. You stared in confusion but decided to ignore it and started walking out.

Chan informed everyone of a tram that was available nearby. One can take the tram and it will take them straight to the Prague Castle. You guys decided on taking the tram as it was cheaper and easier means of transport. The journey to the castle was nothing eventful, as everyone got separated in the tram, to find a seat. You sat beside Seungkwan and stared out of the window, taking in the beautiful scenery of the city. You always loved transport systems as it allowed you to drown in your own thoughts.

After what felt like half an hour, you reached the destination. Everyone got down from the tram and after asking for directions, the nine of you finally stood in front of the prestigious Prague castle. The word ‘beautiful’ would have been an understatement. The castle was beyond words. It was massive and magnificent. The details that were carved on the stones made you stare at it in awe. You have only read about castles in story books that looked this magical. You took a good ten minutes to soak it all in. You wished to stay in this castle forever but that would be weird right?

Seungkwan’s voice brought you out of your thoughts as you walked up to where he was.

“This is our guide and she will help us tour this entire palace.”, explained Seungkwan.

The guide was a small petite middle-aged woman who looked like she knew things about this place that no one knows of. She was dressed in a formal attire and spoke English very well. You greeted her with a with a warm smile and internally thanked Seungkwan for choosing a woman. It’s a weird concept of yours but you always feel lighter when touring a place with a woman guide. It helps you communicate easily and ask various questions that might get annoying at some point.

Walking through the gates of the magical castle, the woman-guide spoke first, “Welcome to the Prague Castle, the largest castle complex in the world and a treasure trove of Czech history and architecture. My name is Elinor and I will be your guide for the day.”

Her voice was extremely professional but also captivating. It was warm and deep and didn’t have an annoying shrill to it.

“How long does it normally take for this tour?”, Chan asked.

“Uhm up to 3 hours. It also depends on how quick you guys walk.”, joked the guide which made everyone laugh a bit.

As you walked through the gates, you could see the history and the talent of the artisans from that age. You always get shocked at how skilled these people were in make something this massive and also detailed.

“As we enter the castle grounds, we find ourselves in the picturesque Hradčany Square. The square is surrounded by stunning Baroque architecture, including the impressive St. Vitus Cathedral, which we'll explore later. Let’s take a moment to admire the square's tranquil atmosphere and the beautiful buildings that surround us.”, said Elinor as she guided your group to the area.

You looked around, taking it all in. It was beautiful. The architecture was to die for and the beautiful buildings surrounding the square gave it almost a heavenly look.

“This is amazing.”, said Jeonghan as he stared at the Cathedral.

Everyone nodded, as if hypnotized by the beauty of this place.

You decided to click some pictures of the place, as Mingyu did the same. You both almost made it look like a competition to click the best pictures.

“I think I will click better.”, spoke Mingyu suddenly to which you gave a smirk as if silently challenging him into a photography competition.

“Ugh why do they need so many pictures?”, you heard Maya speak.

You decided to ignore her as you attempted to click more perfect shots. You were more of a candid photographer. You loved clicking pictures of people, who have no idea they are being clicked. If someone told you to click a picture of them, that’s when you get awkward and wobbly. Right now, clicking the pictures of the intricate designs, seemed so much better.

“Let them. They enjoy it.”, Jihyun strictly spoke, which you could hear perfectly from the distance. You acted like you were too engrossed in clicking pictures so that you could eavesdrop what the conversation was getting at.

“They are best friends, right?”, you could hear Elinor ask, clearly out of curiosity.

Seungkwan laughed and said, “Yeah kind of. They were partners in photography in college. The best team anyone could ever get.”

You couldn’t see Maya’s face but you knew she was bubbling with anger. You decided to end her misery as you walked out of the corner acting completely oblivious of the conversation.

“I am done clicking.”, you declared. Just then you heard Mingyu approaching too, signaling that he was done too.

The guide gently smiled as she guided you guys to the entrance of the massive cathedral.

“We'll now enter the breathtaking St. Vitus Cathedral, the spiritual heart of the Czech Republic. This magnificent Gothic cathedral took nearly 600 years to complete and features stunning stained-glass windows, intricate stone carvings, and the final resting place of many Czech saints and rulers.”, said Elinor as the nine of you entered the closed area of the cathedral.

The inside was even more spectacular. The glass windows, the high ceilings and the beautiful designs. Even if the lighting was low, you could feel the rich architecture. You were so in awe that you almost missed what Elinor said next. The room was dimly lit so you couldn’t even see properly the faces of your friends. You stared in confusion as you suddenly felt a presence behind you.

“She told us to look up, silly.”, came a deep voice close to your ear. You looked first at the owner of the voice, Mingyu who was grinning as he pointed towards the ceiling.

Then you looked up, craning your neck, and saw the most beautiful ceiling you have ever seen. The details, though too far away to capture with naked eye, were so beautiful. Amidst all this you could still feel Mingyu’s presence behind you as he almost pressed himself against your back. The inside of the cathedral was a bit crowded which explained the minimal distance between you both but it still didn’t help your thumping heart from calming down.

You were too scared to break this spell and decided to selfishly bask in the warmth of his body against yours, even if it didn’t mean a thing to him.

Elinor’s voice made you flinch as you created distance between you and Mingyu and walked up behind her to follow the group out of the cathedral and into a different location. The inside of the cathedral was too dimly lit to click a good picture on your camera. It was an old model and didn’t have much good features to click in the dark.

“I will send you the pictures I clicked inside the cathedral.”, Mingyu said as he walked up to you and quickly joined the group. You gave a small nod as you continued to walk.

You were actually getting scared of the bold attempts that Mingyu made to talk with you. You have no idea why he was suddenly having this urge to talk with you and be friends with you again. You were honestly scared about Maya being jealous and spilling the beans about your feelings for Mingyu which would complicate the situation more so you decided to maintain a respectable distance even though he was being all friendly.

“Next, we'll visit the Old Royal Palace, a complex of buildings that served as the residence of Czech rulers for centuries. We'll explore the palace's grand halls, including the impressive Vladislav Hall, with its unique ribbed vaulting and stunning Gothic architecture. This is where the Czech coronation ceremonies took place, and you can almost hear the echoes of history within these walls.”, explained Elinor as your group got inside the main attraction of this area, the palace.

You quickly took out your camera to click some good pictures of the architecture. You were always intrigued by how artisans pulled such beautiful pieces off even at a time when there were no high - defined machines. You snapped pictures of the details on the walls, ceilings and even pillars. The coronation ceremony arena was even more beautiful as you felt like a princess walking down the area.

You silently clicked pictures of all your friends as they loitered in the area. You were great at secretly clicking pictures of people and you got some pretty good snaps of Jeonghan and Seungcheol being snuggled together. Jihyun looked extra gorgeous in the soft pastel shirt she wore and you couldn’t resist but snap a lot of her pictures. Seungkwan who was adoringly looking at an oblivious Vernon was your next subject of pictures. Then you snapped pictures of Chan who was busy admiring the details and looked cool in the soft glow of the palace walls.

Your camera slowly panned to Mingyu, who was weirdly not with Maya anymore as he kept on snapping pictures of the place. You glanced around to find Maya talking on her phone and concluded that it was the reason why she was not clinging to him.

You hesitated a bit before snapping a few pictures of Mingyu who was so engrossed in clicking pictures himself. He looked extremely handsome in jeans and shirt. The black leather jacket made him look so put together and classy. A sunglass took its place over his eyes once he was done clicking and that gave him almost a boyish look. Mingyu was tall and that itself was an accessory and you almost forgot that you were surrounded by other people.

“I can see you drooling.”, Seungcheol’s voice startled you as your cheeks flushed and you ducked your head to hide the embarrassment.

“Why are you here to torture me?”, you glared at him to which he gave a hearty laugh to simply annoy you more.

“Why don’t you just confess?”, asked Seungcheol.

“Are you crazy? He has a girlfriend for fuck’s sake.”, you whisper yelled as your eyes went wide.

“Yeah, well you confess, he rejects, you get eternal peace.”, he explained casually.

“You are seriously lucky that my best friend likes you or else you would have been ten feet under the ground.”, you glared at him, this time in a murderous way.

He threw his hands up in the air, as a sign of surrender and said, “Sorry ma’am. No need to confess anything.”

“Who’s confessing and what?”, came a voice from behind as you both turned to find Mingyu standing there, dumbfoundedly.

Seungcheol smirked and you could see the wheels turning inside his head. Before you could stop him, he spoke, “Our friend ____ here has a crush on someone.”

Seungcheol ran away from the scene before you could even hit him and you stood there awkwardly under Mingyu’s scrutinizing eyes.

“Y-You like someone?”, asked Mingyu and you couldn’t understand why he was so shocked.

“Kind of yeah. It’s not a big deal.”, you said, wanting this conversation to end.

“Do I know the person? Is it a college friend?”, he asked next which made you internally groan.

“Listen, it’s nothing important. Don’t worry about it. I will confess to that person when the time feels right.”, you replied, suddenly feeling a bit bold.

You could see something wash over Mingyu, as he gave a small smile and walked up to Maya. You couldn’t decipher what happened and decided to ignore it and enjoy the trip. The rest of the walk in the castle was all calm as Mingyu seemed to maintain a distance from you and you decided to not get bothered by it as it was somehow good for your heart.

��We'll now visit the Basilica of St. George, one of the oldest churches in the Czech Republic. This beautiful Romanesque Basilica features stunning frescoes, intricate stone carvings.”, Elinor spoke, like a recitation as you entered the church.

At this point your head was completely empty as you simply decided to wander and enjoy the history with your own eyes rather than clicking pictures. You clung to Jihyun as you both giggled and scanned the place. Jihyun asked you to pose in front of a beautiful mural and she clicked few pictures of your outfit which you were glad for.

The guide quickly ushered your group out of the church, murmuring something about the shortage of time and took you to this place called ‘Golden Lane’.

“This is the Golden Lane, a picturesque street lined with tiny, colourful houses that date back to the 16th century. These houses were once home to the castle's goldsmiths, and today they're filled with quaint shops, cafes, and museums.”, Elinor explained but her voice seemed to be just in the background as you stared in awe at the lane.

Your eyes sparkled as you took in the beautiful colours of the houses. Suddenly you heard the soft click of shutter as you turned to find Mingyu pointing his camera at you. You gave him a questioning look to which he just shrugged his shoulders and started clicking pictures of the streets.

After the street tour was over, Elinor spoke, “Now we have only the art museum left. If you guys are interested in that then I can take you there.”

You all looked at each other, clearly tired from all the walking. You wanted to visit the museum but seeing how tired everyone was, you decided to not bring up the topic. You secretly decided to visit it when you come out for your solo trip day.

“I think we will head back home, if that is, okay?”, said Seungkwan politely.

Elinor showed no sign of annoyance as she quickly guided your group out of the castle area and near the front gate. You guys thanked her for the amazing service and she was kind enough to give you her card to contact her whenever you guys visit again.

After the tour, everyone was hungry so the decision to eat lunch was immediate. Chan again knew a great place near the palace which served great Czech dishes and took you guys there. The food was delicious as usual and the nine of you devoured everything that was ordered. After lunch, everyone hopped on a return tram back to the bungalow.

The afternoon went by in the glimpse of an eye. Everyone went to their respective rooms to rest or do whatever they liked till the sun went completely down and Chan called everyone into the living room to drink some hot chocolate and cookies that he made.

While enjoying the hot drinks and chocolaty heaven, Maya decided to suddenly speak up.

“We should go to the old town square in the evening.”, said Maya enthusiastically.

“Huh? All of a sudden?”, asked Seungkwan, clearly not buying it.

You guys weren’t accustomed to this place and so you weren’t sure it was a good idea to roam a busy place on such an eventful evening.

“Yes! Also, I have a friend who lives here and she was able to give me information about a bar that is celebrating Christmas Eve in full swing today.” explained Maya.

Seeing how everyone went silent, Maya decided to speak again, “Come on guys. It will be fun. It’s Christmas eve after all! Right babe?”

She finished off the sentence and clung to Mingyu to get his validation on the topic.

“Yeah. It’s Christmas Eve after all.”, said Mingyu hesitantly and Seungcheol agreed along with him.

Everyone nodded their heads and decided to get dressed before the outing.

You weren’t exactly willing to go because you felt weird dressing up but Jeonghan was ready to drag you out of your comfort zone. Chan was able to search up about the bar from his contacts and it was a very expensive one. The bar Maya selected also had an in-built heater so covering up wasn’t much needed. Chan was even kind enough to hire a taxi just so that the ladies can dress well.

“Chan is a gentleman.”, said Jeonghan as he rummaged through your suitcase for something fitting.

You nodded your head absentmindedly as you went through the pictures you clicked today.

“You didn’t bring anything sexy! Goddamit!”, yelled Jeonghan out of frustration.

“I wasn’t exactly planning to wear a mini dress in freezing cold Jeonghan.”, you snapped back jokingly.

He looked at you, eyes gleaming with something that you were scared of. He gave a gentle smile as he stood up suddenly and rummaged through his own bag and brought out a wrapped box.

“What is that?”, you asked out of curiosity.

“I was supposed to give you this at night for Christmas but here you go. I bought this dress for you from a store back home.”, he said as he handed the box over to you.

You giggled a bit as you unwrapped the present and inside was the most gorgeous and sexy red dress you have ever seen.

It had a simple front, with rhinestones cascading down . It would end just above your knee. The back was the statement piece itself. A low dip back cut ran down the entire length of the dress just up to the hip area. Rhinestone attached ribbons going criss cross along the entire back and tying into a bow on the lower back. The dress was beautiful, bold and so gorgeous.

“Are you sure this would suit me?”, you asked, a bit nervous for wearing something this bold.

“You would look breathtaking in this. Mingyu would be begging on his knees.”, joked Jeonghan.

You rolled your eyes and got inside the washroom to change and do your makeup. Jeonghan was right. The dress fitted you like a glove. Your curves accentuated due to the silk fabric of the dress. It made you look sexy and even more attractive. You decided to go for a simple make up look so that it doesn’t draw the attention away from the dress. Letting your hair fall, in its natural way made you look gorgeous. You never really kept your hair open but on such rare occasions, you wanted your waist length hair to have its moment.

As you came out of the washroom, Jeonghan fell on his knees, exaggerating his reaction. You laughed as you twirled to give him a show. Jeonghan stood up and went out of the room to call Seungkwan and Jihyun in.

“Oh my god! You look so fucking good what the hell?”, was what Seungkwan screamed as soon as he entered the room to see you.

Jihyun hugged you tight saying if she had a chance, she would date you.

After mustering courage, you decided to wear the black boots and the coat that you wore in the morning. You wrapped the coat around your waist as you wanted to show your outfit when you reach the bar.

As you came out of your room, Chan explained that Seungcheol, Vernon, Mingyu and Maya were already on their way to the bar and it was just them five here now. After getting ready completely, you guys got into the hired taxi and drove to the place.

The bar was beautiful. It had the classy look, like most of the places in the city. It almost looked like a sophisticated royal party but the neon lights and music gave it a modern look.

As soon as the five of you entered, Chan quickly spotted the rest of the people and joined them. Jihyun was quick enough to order few drinks. You decided to not get much drunk as you ordered a cocktail and decided to nurture it for most of the night. The others decided to go for some strong shots. Seungcheol also backed off from drinking as he was going to make sure everyone reaches home safe.

The night went along as everyone became tipsy and swayed to the music blasting through the speakers. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Maya leave and before you could see where she went, Jihyun and Seungkwan dragged you on the dance floor.

You allowed the songs to flow through your body as you swinged from side to side while bumping playfully into Seungkwan and Jihyun. The three of you giggled drunkenly as the music made everything else tune out from your mind. Suddenly you noticed a presence behind you, touching your exposed back and you flinched. Turning around you saw a man trying to get close to you. Jihyun and Seungkwan were no were to be found as you realized that you got lost in the crowd for a bit.

“Hey babe, wanna dance?”, he asked clearly trying to flirt.

“No thank you.”, you replied politely. The man furrowed his eyebrows and insisted one more time, not budging from the spot. You panicked a bit trying to create a distance and distanced yourself before looking towards the table everyone sat earlier to find Seungcheol. He knew how to handle these situations. Panic rushed through your veins as you saw that no one was there around you that you knew of.

A strong hand grabbed your wrist as you flinched, trying to get away from the smell of alcohol mixed with sweat that attacked your nose. The man smirked as he tried to pull you closer. You are not a weak woman and knew how to hold your ground but at that moment your brain was too foggy to even register how to escape. As a single tear escaped your eye, you suddenly felt the grip loosen and leave your hand.

You looked up to see Mingyu standing there, glaring at the man who was trying to force himself on you. Mingyu was way taller than the man and that made him drop his strong demeanour and scurry away to escape the probable chance of getting beaten up.

Mingyu approached you and gently held onto your shoulders trying to ground you. He slowly bent forward and gently whispered in your ear, “Are you okay?”

You simply nodded, not sure if you still have your voice. Mingyu looked around a bit and when he was unable to find the rest of the friends, he decided to again ask you, “Do you want to go out for a bit?”

The idea of getting some fresh air instantly made you calm. You nodded and Mingyu quickly grabbed your hand, trying to make both of you pass the heavy crowd and out into the fresh chilly air of Prague night. The Old Town Square was itself breathtaking as lights twinkled in every nook and corner. All the shops were illuminated for Christmas Eve and it almost looked magical against the soft snow. You sat on a nearby bench trying to take a breather. Even if it was almost late at night, the area was bustling with people which made you extremely happy.

Mingyu sat beside you as he sighed, “Are you seriously okay now?”

“Yes. I am fine. I was actually terrified. Thank you for saving me.”, you answered shyly.

“Come on. That’s what friends are here for right?”, Mingyu said as he bumped his shoulder against yours.

Friends. Yeah, you both were friends after all. Only friends.

“How are you liking this trip so far?”, you asked, trying to fill the silence.

“Oh. I am loving it. I am actually finding myself through this trip. I don’t know how to explain that but it is so.”, Mingyu said, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Uhm, can I ask you something?”, asked Mingyu, clearly hesitant.

You nodded your head and internally prayed for him to not ask something awkward.

“Why did you and Maya ended the friendship?”, he asked and you mentally slapped yourself.

“Oh. Uh it was some sort of misunderstanding. I clearly don’t remember it now after so many years.”, you partially lied as she was still his girlfriend.

“No. Don’t lie to me. I know you. You are not someone who ends friendships just because of childish misunderstandings. Don’t stop from answering me just because I am her boyfriend. Tell me. I am very curious.”, he sternly replied.

Mingyu had always been great at reading you. He could read right past your lies and made-up stories. He could see right past the fallacy you create for you.

“Wow okay. I mean I seriously don’t remember much detail but it was I believe a fight over a disagreement. Oh yes. She was dating this one boy in college and we went to a party together and the next day she suddenly came up to me and said that I was trying to steal her man. I was flabbergasted and tried to reason it but she showed me all these blurry pictures of me hugging the guy and I seriously didn’t remember much about that night as I was super drunk. I actually felt guilty because maybe I seriously crossed the line because I was drunk.”

“Then? So did you really do it unknowingly?”, Mingyu asked out of curiosity.

“I don’t think so I should say you this.”, you answered apologetically.

“Please.”, Mingyu pleaded, his eyes glistening under the soft street light.

“She framed me. That is all I can say. I don’t know much details myself but another friend told me. And I was so tired of trying to be better for other people that I never asked her about it again. I just left.”, you answered sadly.

Mingyu nodded clearly not sure what to say. You patted his back in a gesture that it was fine that he has nothing to say. Mingyu had a habit of guilt tripping himself when he realizes that he was unable to help someone and you could tell that he was blaming himself at that very moment.

“There was nothing you could do Mingyu. I distanced myself and I never told you about it.”, you said as you correctly read his mind.

“How? Okay fine. Stop reading my mind.”, he chuckled sadly.

“Wanna head back inside now?”, he asked after a long pause.

“Yes. Let’s do that.”

As you both entered the loud chatter of the club, your mind was a little bit clearer than before and your heart felt lighter somehow. You never really wanted to ruin the friendship you and Mingyu shared and this was the moment you realized that maybe it is your overthinking that is making you distance yourself from him.

The loud music welcomed you both as you walked up to the table all your friends were seated at. Jihyun got up and hugged you as he heard what happened from Chan. Apparently Mingyu had texted him in detail what happened and where you both were. Maya was still not at the table and you quickly gazed around to find her standing near the bar. You sat beside Jihyun and she ordered another cocktail for you to enjoy the rest of the night with.

click <<here>> to go to chapter 7!

✧˖* end notes: posting every monday! do suggest me ideas if you have any. also do like and comment!! it gives me motivation to write better.<3

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