#have a nice day dear stranger who got to this part

[wandixx]

Danny, the Young Justice member snippet nr 3 GIW made a lot of mistakes and the biggest one was going against Young Justice part 1

As you can see by the title (I need better ideas, you're all welcome to share yours), this is kinda part of "Danny, the Youg Justice member" but as something I have more of actual idea about. So while I encourage people adding their stuff to other snippets, please let this one be. I will be adding to it. It's even partially written :D

unrelated snippet nr 1, unrelated snippet nr 2

"Hey guys" Danny greeted clearly winded, phasing through the wall. Whole Team turned towards him, some giving him a side eye “Sorry I’m late” 

“You’re good, my dude” Wally answered, patting him on the back as soon as halfa landed, turning into his human form. They gave him a moment to catch his breath(just how fast he tried to fly there?) before grabbing their bags. Dick jumped and threw himself over the speedster's and halfa’s shoulders.

“Happy Harbour, we’re coming!” he yelled.

He fixed his grip when he caught Danny’s quick wince under the pressure as they left the headquarters. Judging by look on his face, Kaldur caught it too.

“So what’s on the agenda?”

“There is an amusement park in city, so we’re going to enjoy our free time there” M’gann explained with excited smile “I can’t wait to see it, I heard it’s fun”

Artemis nodded with a grin.

“I bet I can win more plushies than all of you. No powers,” she demanded after a moment, slamming her hand n a random tree for better dramatic effect.

“Stakes?” he asked, competitive like always. While blonde shared her idea of ‘no locker room duties for a month’, Danny explained all the questions M’gann asked about what even bet was and what stakes meant. Dick was sure she knew the answers to all of them but he didn’t say anything. He was trained well enough to catch Conner listening intently, despite his clear effort to hide it.

It turned into a whole Team competition.

It was going to be an aster.

***

M’gann was having a blast. Everyone already had two to four plushies, stomach full of unhealthy food and manageable nausea from the roller coaster. Wally and Danny were throwing popcorn to each other's mouths, Robin challenged Conner and Artemis to the next game. It really was fun just like she was told!

It was much less fun when literal blast shot a few feets away from them. Ground where it hit was burned. Halfa squealed, projecting a strong wave of distress. Without second thought he threw his hood on and changed his posture, frantically looking for a hiding spot.

Few children started crying, their families scrambling to get away before attackers started shooting again and hurt them. Workers, already used to working in less than ideal circumstances, quickly, but without panic warranted by recognised villains or outright invasion, shut down reinforced blinds and probably walked out to inform someone. At least they didn’t have to worry about potential civilian casualties. 

“Do you know who they are?” M’gann asked, quickly establishing the Mindlink.

“Don’t worry about it” he answered, putting on crazy big sunglasses that Wally won some time before.

“My dude, we just got shot at. We have every right to worry”

“Calm down, Wally. I got shot at, you’re just close by. I’ll handle it” With a ruffle of his hair and a piece of popcorn thrown in his mouth,he turned around, just moment after the next blast almost caught his arm. He plastered a smile on his face.

“Hey, I’ve seen guns like these in laser tag! But I’ve never found them cheap enough to get without selling my kidney!” he yelled enthusiastically.

When the rest of them turned around, M’gann saw ten people in sunglasses and pristine white, holding guns straight from the mad scientist’s lab. THey stood still, projecting surprise bordering on shock. She could also feel hunter's happiness underneath it, intense enough that she considered breaking the ‘don’t mess with people’s brains’ rule. As a treat.

“Don’t worry guys, they won’t harm you. Act like you  don’t believe you’re in danger. Like they're a bunch of LARPers or something” It was easier said than done, especially when Danny, who nearly always underestimated the danger, was so terrified. 

“Who are they?!”

“Wally throw me a bit of popcorn, please” Halfa asked, ignoring Artemis almost yelling in their minds. In turn, he was ignored by the speedster. Three of the men turned to check something on weird sort of scanner. Danny's false smile went from cheerful to embarrassed. 

“Dang me and my poor communication skills” he said, loud enough for men to hear but not enough to sound like he was talking to them, before asking louder “I meant to ask, where have you brought it and how much does it cost?”

This seemed to actually shake men out of their shock. They got furious.

“You won't trick us this time, ghost scum” one of the guys with a scanner snarled. Danny pursed his lips in childish gesture of displeasure.

“Rude much” he muttered as if he wasn’t shining with terror like a lighthouse. Robin perked up as if something got him curious.

“Wait, ghost? What do–”

“What are you cosplaying?” Artemis blurted out. Men got visibly angry but Danny smirked.

“Don't antagonize them,” Kaldur commended. 

“If shit goes south I'll get you out of there, half a second flat” Wally offered.

“Thanks dude. Good job Artemis, they hate to be treated like a joke they are” halfa praised but out loud asking:

“Ghostbusters? No, they had different uniforms. But who else got a thing for ghosts?”

“Quit joking around, we caught you Phantom! You ran far from Amity Park but-”

“Who is Phantom?” Robin interrupted rudely (they deserved to be rude to them).

“Where is Amity Park, Utah? Cali?”  Conner asked, adding fuel to the fire of chaos with barely contained glee. He liked messing with anyone even slightly resembling Kadmus staff and these guys marked almost all of the boxes.

“Illinois” provided chubby man who looked and felt like he didn't want to be there almost as much as they teens did. Danny relaxed slightly.

“Agent W you have no clearance to share this information“

“You were in Illinois and didn't tell me, Tommy?” M’gann finally spoke, jokingly punching his arm.

“I wasn't, I swear! I've never set a foot outside of this state in my life!”

“Quit messing around, you freak!!!” the guy, with the biggest ego and probably the leader, screamed.

“Can I please mess their heads up?”  M’gann asked, pushing hope through Mindlink as hard as she could.

“Again, rude. What did I even do to deserve that?”

“Like you–”

“Operative K, I think they really don't know anything “ Agent W, the nicest out of the batch, interrupted “Maybe it left some ectoplasm on this boy to throw us off?”

“They called you it, Danny” Conner seethed, looking like only Kaldur’s hand on his shoulder was stopping him from punching all of them straight to the sun. M’gann was already reaching for their minds.

“We need to run a scan to be sure. Come here boy”

“Now, who are you?!” Robin got defensive, sliding to shield Danny from asiliants. Conner and Artemis joined him, so clearly furious that M’gann almost retreated from Mindlink. She wasn’t any calmer, it just felt overwhelming to be backed up by five other people.

“It’s classified”

Kaldur took a photo with an obnoxiously loud sound effect. Wally appeared right behind Danny, ready to evacuate him. Artemis barely kept herself from tackling the nearest ‘agent’ to the ground.

“What are you doing, boy?” Operative K splurted, absolutely flabbergasted.

“Calling the police”

“Why?”

“Robin, throw some laws, please”

“Oh, that’s easy,” the boy jumped in gleefully “You assaulted our friend and refused to state why you would have credentials to do so or even who are you. You carry modified weaponry openly in public and I doubt you have a permit, carelessly use it  against minors, endangering innocent bystanders while we’re at it. You disturb public peace. I think that’s enough to get you arrested. Wait you know what, call ‘Supervillain emergency hotline’ instead, this is serious attack”

“Right ahead of you, already calling them”

It wasn’t that big of a problem even if someone tried to qualify this as spam. Young Justice Team was first to respond to all threats in Happy Harbour anyway.

Danny let out a low ‘uuuu’ with a smirk. Someone powered up a gun. Wally slightly raised halfa of the ground, ready to bolt.

“It’s okay young man,” the nice agent started, raising his hands in a placating gesture “We’re searching for a dangerous supernatural entity and may have overreacted. In our defense, Phantom is known to be tricky and we wouldn’t be surprised if it used human disguise to hide from us. Your friend gives off the same type of energy like what we use to track it so we assumed they’re the same. We’re sorry”

“Agent W you don’t have clearance to disclose that to-”

“Operative K, after the last few incidents we have to be more throughout before jumping to assumptions. Agent Gamma wouldn’t be pleased if your temper caused the next scandal,” Agent W look at them again, with a forced ‘warm’ smile “We’re really sorry for bothering you. We have reasons to believe Phantom is somewhere around but don’t worry about it, we will be on the lookout. If you see it, please contact us and we will take care of it” M’gann grabbed the ‘WANTED’ poster from man’s outstretched hand. She barely restrained herself from doing something irresponsible, like turning every man in white into a brainless vegetable.

“Later M'gann”

“But Robin…” she whined before sending a small laugh so they knew she wasn’t serious. She knew that Conner and Danny were anxious about this use of her powers.

Agent’s left and everyone relaxed. Wally put Danny back down and leaned back, jokingly rolling back his arms as if he got tired. Halfa stopped with a loud thump to sit on the ground. He was paler than usual.

Artemis shouted, alarmed.

“That was way too close” he started, aiming for a cheerful tone but missing by a mile “I’m fine, just need a moment to cool down. Sorry for that, guys. I thought I lost them over Ohio”

“That’s fine, personally I don’t care, we knew better than to expect a whole day without something going wrong, but who were they?” Wally asked, already back to eating popcorn.

Danny sighed, so deeply M’gann felt it in her bones even though she didn’t try to read him.

“I think this is the talk we should have in the Mountain”

part 2

[rafesweetie]

need a jealous bsf!rafe x reader where he is possessive and doesn’t want other guys touching her even though he touches other girls, so she is basically over it and at a party, she dances on another guy and he gets mad

౨ৎ in which bsf!rafe just can’t help wanting to protect you.

you were done with rafe cameron. you’ve decided it. he was your best friend, sure, but he was controlling, mean, overly protective, and he acted like he owned you or something. so you were completely done with him, forever.

this is the third time you’ve promised yourself that, and news flash — you never dropped him.

it wasn’t your fault, you try to tell yourself every time. he just wouldn’t let you leave him, shutting you up whenever you’d even try and be reasonable with him, yelling louder than you or slamming his palm over your mouth. but a little part of you knows that you like the attention. you like that rafe cares so much about you, even if it does ruin your chances of getting a boyfriend. today is the day that you break the pattern though, and rebel against his constant authority.

parties are where rafe thrives. he’s like a celebrity, it always wonders you how much people love him. during parties, he keeps less of an eye on you, assuming you’re just busy gossiping with your friends. but little does he know, you’ve found a boy — it wasn’t often you’d get the opportunity to chat with a boy that wasn’t rafe, and you were loving every second of it. you felt so free from your friend’s gaze, listening to the boy talk, his deep voice vibrating your brain.

but the issue was, the boy was boring. he didn’t talk about cool things, like dirtbikes or his life or death adventures or money. you hated to say it, but he just wasn’t rafe. your mind kept flashing back to him, how much more you smile and enjoy his company. maybe rafe was right. you just didn’t need boys when you have him.

you’re so close to excusing yourself from the boy, going back to rafe’s arm and giggling with him and talking with your faces really close together. you glance back to where he is, ready to retreat, until you see it. you see her.

you’re not sure who she is, but she bothers you. her hair is so gorgeous and healthy, and you can’t see her face from behind but she must be gorgeous. her arm is on rafe’s bicep — your bicep, the one you always hang onto while you’re walking with rafe. you hate that you’re jealous. rafe’s your friend, not your boyfriend, you have no reason to be. but it’s like you can’t control it, your rage, and before you know it, you’re blinking back any potential tears and touching on this boy — this stranger — like there’s no tomorrow. tyla is blasting through the speakers, and yours and these boy’s hands are all over each other’s bodies. you really hope rafe sees you like this, drunk off the smirnoff pink lemonades and enjoying another mans company.

it really doesn’t take long for him to notice. he’s so predictable. shrugging the girls hand off of him, rushing over to his dear friend to get her away from this lowlife.

usually he’d reason with you. coax you away from the boy nicely and lecture you. but he’d had a few beers and a line of coke and he was in no mood for politeness. a rough hand pushes the boy away by the chest, and rafe isn’t muttering a word to anyone, grabbing your wrist and stomping away with you stumbling behind.

he pushes you into a spare bedroom, the first private place he could find. sitting you on the edge of the bed, he starts pacing in front of you and rubbing his face as if this was hurting his head. it’s like your brain flicks a switch, back to “rafe rafe rafe” as you’re sat there with tears brimming your eyes, fiddling with your manicure as you bat your eyelashes up at him, remembering the girl flirting with him, and now you making him mad, and now he’s got you in a puddle of guilt.

“shit— it’s like, you never do what i say, huh?” he mutters, still pacing. “you know i do everything to protect you, kid. you even know who that fuckin’ guy was? no, m’sure you don’t, cause you don’t think. thought by now my voice would be in your pretty head, there to help you make some smart decisions every once in a while. but nah, nah, you see one other boy and it’s back to square one with you,”

you go to speak, glossy lips parting, but he shuts you up with a quick “no”, and stopping pacing to go kneel in front of you.

“everything i do — for you, okay? for you. my girl,” he often calls you that, it makes you weak every time. he grabs your hands. “stop fiddling, paid for this polish.” you stop instantly. “i know— i know you think that my protectiveness is, uh, stupid, but i need to be like this, or you’re gonna get hurt. i know you, baby. i need to be all over you for you to even have a slight awareness to not do stupid things. so i do take some ownership over you in that sense—“

you cut him off, muttering a, “don’t want you to take ownership.”

he huffs. “yeah, but i do, so…” he shrugs. “you’re mine. my friend, my girl. so i don’t like it when someone else touches my girl, or when you’re the one intiating it. makes me so fuckin’ angry, kid, makes me wanna, like—“ he cuts himself off. “so i need you to knock it off.”

you wanna argue so badly, but your brain turns to mush around him. so you sniffle and nod hesitantly.

“no, i want a ‘yes rafe.’ need your words.”

“i just think that—“ you try.

he cuts you off. “yes rafe. say it with me.”

“..yes, rafe.” you both say.

he squeezes your hands and gets up. “yeah, there you go, good girl. now do you, uh, need a minute, fix your makeup, or d’you wanna go back down there and hang out with me?”

your hand goes to his bicep as you stand up with him, and a ghost of a smile appears on his lips. “wanna go with you,” you say softly, leaning into him a bit.

“yeah, that’s what i thought.”

[pettysreverie]

Thinking about Faerie!Reader who is the jewel of faery society. Since young, the elders doted on you and your generation-mates followed you in whatever you did. You were said to be the prettiest faerie in your generation. It was rumored that you would have oh-so many suitors.

CW: Implied Size Difference (pretty sure that’s it but let me know if I missed any)

Except…no matter how much older you got, your wings never came in.

You could be as pretty as you wanted to be—as talented and skilled as ever—but without your wings, you were nothing more than a failure. A dud. A mistake.

Then comes the coming of age ceremony, when you should be celebrating with your generation-mates—taking flight and reaching the canopy of the forest your clan resides in. The canopy—where all full-fledged faeries live. Where the big celebration is held. Where the suitors approach their intendeds and begin the courtship process.

A place you would never be able to reach. Not as you are.

Effectively shunned by all of those you’ve held dear for so long, you leave your home and trek through the oh-so foreign lands that surround the forest you once called home.

After a fairly dangerous and eventful journey, you manage to come upon a rather bustling city.

No, it is not like the beautiful forest you once knew…but it is not so bad either.

Maybe you get a job in the local apothecary, which makes sense given your extensive knowledge about herbs and the many remedies one can produce from them, as a result of growing up in such a lush forest.

You settle in okay enough. A steady job with a fairly nice boss. A quaint yet cozy room you’re renting next door to the closest book shop… things are going fine. And then this big behemoth of a man enters the apothecary one day.

You figure that he has got to be part orc or something, but you see nary a tusk nor green tint to his skin. Actually, you don’t see much of his face at all. He covers it up quite well whenever he comes in.

Not that you mind.

He’s a gentle and quiet customer, coming in every few weeks for a big supply of pain remedies. He leaves a very adequate payment, always over the price of his total.

The first few times it happens, you think it a mistake and try to correct it. But after simply not getting the hint, the large and quiet man wraps his equally large, and very warm, hands around yours and passes you the change back.

“Keep it, love.”

Oh.

Oh.

His voice…

It makes you positively swoon.

After that, whenever he comes in, you try your best to make conversation with him. To get a better look at him. He’s a rather slippery fellow, though. Somehow managing to evade your attempts rather gracefully.

Then, it happens.

On his usual day for pick up, he does not come.

And that’s just not like him.

Your boss tells you to simply wait for the end of the business day. So you do, and yet your handsomely voiced stranger does not arrive. With him being a no-show, your boss hands you the remedies that the man normally picks up.

Apparently, this has happened one or two times before. Procedure is to wait until the end of day before delivering it to him.

“Here’s ‘is address. It’s a bit of a walk. Think ye can manage it?”

And you assure him you can.

Not just because you want to prove yourself to your boss but, of course, because you also want to see the strange and quiet man that has claimed your attention so thoroughly.

So you follow the directions listed by your boss, trekking through the bustling city—your feet tapping against the cobblestoned paths as you imagine what he’d be like when you arrive at his doorstep. Will he be upset? Surprised? Maybe…maybe even glad?

By the time you arrive at the doorstep of his cabin, the sun is sitting just above the horizon line.

Your hand knocks against the hard wood door, your eyes taking in the quaintness of his home from the outside. It is just far enough outside of the city limits that the hustle and bustle has quieted into a gentle murmur.

So fitting for your handsomely voiced stranger, you cannot help but to think.

“Damn it, Johnny! I said I’m no’ in’erested in yer—”

You stare up owlishly at your stranger as he swings the massive door open as though it were nothing but a small scrap of parchment.

“Ah…sorry…”You squeak out, your hands reaching out to deliver his usual order. “Boss and I…we got worried when you didn’t come. Had me come delivery it.”

He just stands there, staring at you and then at the wrapped package you are extending to him from behind the usual mask that covers his face. You wonder if maybe he will close the door in your face. It did not seem like he was looking forward to any visitors…

“Come in.”He mutters, moving aside for you to enter.

“I’m sorry?”

“S’late…and a li’le doll like yerself shouldn’ be wanderin aroun’ late like this.”

You’re shocked by his words, even more so by his kindness.

Looking over your shoulder, you gaze at the darkening sky. Sure, you have found stability in the city. You have a lot more confidence navigating the cobbled paths and the swept avenues. But…well, he’s not wrong. It is getting dark.

And really, you would rather not take the chance of leaving now as the daylight continues to dwindle more and more.

“Okay…”You reply, one part excited for what could possibly unfold between you and this seemingly chivalrous stranger, one part nervous for the very same reason.

Just as you step through the threshold his deep, rich voice fills your ears…though only as a mumble. “I’m sorry…?”You repeat once more, so timid and hesitant. So worried that you’re already screwing this up.

“Tha name’s Simon.”He repeats, this time louder and clearer enough for you to hear properly.

You give him your name and follow him deeper inside. The entire time, his voice replays in your head.

Simon.

Simon.

Simon, your stranger, whom you will be spending this fateful evening with.

Now if only it will go well…

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 15-Cowgirl-Illumi/Reader

Notes: it's tech week. Yay. oh my god the play is in like a couple days. Yay. anyway, enjoy

.....

It was five till nine when you found a man splayed out on the second story landing of your apartment building. You were on the way back from a dinner date with your friend, a bit tipsy from the celebratory couple drinks you had enjoyed and the body of an unconscious man had almost sent you tumbling to the hard cold floor. Your apartment was nice, but not nice enough to heat the cold concrete stairwells and small floors that lead to the couple doors on each floor. 

Your heeled shoe hit the man with a thump, and you winced. 

“Oh gosh I'm so sorry!” You exclaimed, moving backwards a few feet and hiding your face. The man slumps, falling over sideways. His head hits the ground with a rather loud thump, curtains of smooth black hair billowing around him. You frown. Pearing closely, your eyes widen as you notice how beat up he is. His strange clothes have several cuts in them, his knuckles and parts of his legs are bruised. There's spots of blood on the green of his dirty outfit. Your heart stills. He must be unconscious.

You rush forward, crouching out and reaching out a tentative hand to poke the stranger. He didn't wake up when you accidentally jammed a heeled shoe into his side, but you didn't want to risk anything. 

“Um sir?” You whisper, poking him a little harder with a single, straight knuckled finger. “Sir, are you alright?”

The man doesn't so much as twitch. You sigh, running a hand through your hair. Just what you needed, an unconscious man a few feet away from your front door. You glance at the only other door on this floor, standing cold and still. You could ask your neighbor, a cranky older lady for help, but she was most likely asleep at this hour. You sighed, gently grabbing the man's shoulders and straightening him, pulling his hair off the cold floor. He certainly has a lot of hair. You brush it away from his face, taking in the cuts on his face, and the small bruise on his cheekbone. He looks bad, like he's been in a fight and it's honestly something you don't want to deal with. You're reaching for your phone when a loud ring tone echoes through the air.

It takes you a moment to realize it's not coming from your phone. You still in the silent hall of your apartment building, considering what to do. It seems inappropriate to answer a stranger's phone, you think. So you let it ring, considering what you should do. And then, a few seconds after the ringing stops, it starts again. You sigh, grabbing the phone and taking a deep breath to calm yourself. 

The phone says it's a call from ‘that damn clown’. Doesn't sound promising, you sigh to yourself, but it's better than no one. You answer the phone, taking a deep breath. 

“It's rare that you don't pick up on the first ring~” The person on the other line says. “Is something wrong?”

“Um,” You start, clearing your phone. “So your friend is passed out on the floor of my apartment building.”

A beat of silence echoes on the other end of the phone. You run a hand through your hair, sighing out the tensions as much as you can. The man on the other end of the line chuckles finally.

“That so?” He laughs. He certainly has a striking voice. “And who would you be?”

You sigh. He doesn't seem that worried, it seems. 

“Im Name,” You say, and then pause for a split second. Maybe it was a poor idea to give this random man your name. But too little too late. You shrug it off as you continue.

“I just got home from dinner and discovered your friend?” You pause, words lilting up at the end. The man chuckles, urging you to continue. “He's completely knocked out and all bruised up. I was considering calling an ambulance but then his phone rang. Twice.”

“Ah, I see.” The man stifles another laugh on the other end. “You can just leave him there my dear. Don't call an ambulance, whatever you do.”

“Really?” You ask, kind of worried. The man stifles another laugh, sounding much too amused for the situation. 

“Yeah, he should be fine. Thanks dear.”

He hangs up. You frown, pulling the phone away from your ear and glaring at it in surprise. What an odd man. He doesn't seem that worried about his so called friends safety of his injuries. You look over him again, taking in the extent of his injuries. You can see a line of blood leaking through the jaked line of fabric. You didn't know how you hadn't noticed it before, the giant cut in his chest. It looks bad. And the man had said no ambulance. Standing there in the hallway, you deliberate for a second. And then, making your mind up, you reach down. Picking up the man as carefully as you can, drag him into your apartment. 

✯✯✯

Your friends always said you had no survival instinct. You were deemed first to die in a horror movie, and most likely to fall to a serial killer. Maybe they were right, you mused to yourself as you dropped the injured man on your couch, spreading his long hair on the pillow before you set his head down. After all you had brought some random injured man into your home with barely a second thought. You sigh, returning to the couch with your first aid kit and surveying his injuries. Their mostly surface level cuts and bruises, besides of course the large gash in his chest. You decide to start on that, and ignore the rest. 

It takes you a long time to get his shirt off. First, because you can't figure out how it works and then second because you're trying not to wake him up. But finally, you get the weird green shirt thing he wears off. You wince as you take in the cut. It's a clean cut at least, but it's still a large gash right between his pecs. Blood blooms from it, rolling down his chest and close to the old towels you had covered your couch with. 

You wince, rooting around for the rags and alcohol you keep in here. You don't know if you should attempt to stitch up the gash or not, but you start with cleaning the outsides of blood, and then pressing a clean cloth against the wound as hard as you can, until the blood stops flowing. 

Then, you panic text your nurse friend who informs you it's probably best to just bandage the cut and not attempt to stitch it up with a sewing needle and no experience. So you wrap up his chest in tight bandages, and then apply some of your favorite hello kitty stickers to the cuts on his face and chest. You just ignore the bruises, unsure of what to do. 

When he's all finally bandged up and sleeping properly, you sigh in relief. Scooting back you wipe your wrist over your forehead, cleaning the sweat from your face. Your hands are stained with blood and the dirt you had whipped from his chest and face with a clean wet rag. What a night this had been. Nothing better to sober you up from a night of drinking than an unconscious man outside of your apartment. 

You look over at him, laying still and silent like sleeping beauty on your couch. He's actually quite pretty, you can't help but notice. It was hard to tell with all the grime and blood covering his face, but now that he's all clean it kind of dawns on you. He also has quite a nice physique, even with the giant gash across his chest. He looks a bit like a porcelain doll from the neck up, with very pale skin and pitch black hair. 

You sigh, turning away from the couch and moving to the sink to wash your hands. You humm slightly as the water runs the blood and gunk from your hands. Hopefully he won't be angry with you when you wake up. His friend on the phone was an odd one, and based on his outfit and the numerous cuts and bruises he was probably weird too. Maybe a hunter, or something like that. They were certainly odd folk. You scrub more soap into your hands, watching as the pink suds flow down the drain. Blood is surprisingly hard to get off your skin. You don't know why you're surprised, it's not like you spent your days getting blood out of clothes and various surfaces. You're just a normal person working a normal job. 

You turn off the sink, stratified with your clean hands and humm slightly into the silence. You turn around, intent on picking up your first aid kit but when you lay eyes on the couch you still. There's no one there. 

For a moment, you think you hallucinated the entire thing. But the towels you had laid down on the couch before you set him down are still there, with spots of blood and everything. You frown, and then you look up. 

The man is clinging to your walls like a monkey, his fingers leaving dents in the wall. He's situated in a corner, hair floating around him like an angry cloud, black eyes glaring right at you. 

“Get off my ceiling!” You shriek, running another hand through your hair as you watch his shape nails dig into the wall, flakes of paint and drywall fluttering down to the ground. Your landlord is going to kill you. 

“Who are you?” The man hisses. “How did I get here?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes sky high. So he was a weird one. 

“I'm Name, and I found you unconscious outside of my apartment.” You say, slowly and carefully like you're speaking to a wild animal. You suppose you are in a way. The man's muscles bulge as he digs his hands deeper into the wall. Spots of blood have started to leak through the bandage you wrapped around his chest. You wince. 

“What did you do to me, woman?” The man demands, although a bit more worked up than before. His hair has sunk around him, his nails relaxing their death grip on the wall. His eyes are very big, and very black. Like a doll. He's rude as hell though.

“I patched you up.” you roll your eyes. “I was gonna call an ambulance but your friend said not to.”

“My friend? You're lying. I don't have friends.” The man bristles again, as more blood leaks into the cotton of the bandages. You wince, wishing he would come down so you could deal with the large gash in his chest probably about to drip blood all over your floors. 

“The man that called. ‘That stupid clown’ or something I don't know.” You say, fingers doing quotations in the air. “Can you come down please? My landlord is going to raise the rent price if you keep leaving holes in the walls.”

The man drops to the ground with barely a sound, but still plasters his body against the white wall. You sigh. He reminds you a bit of a black cat. You can almost visualize the cat ears bristingling along with his long hair. You stifle a small giggle, standing still by the kitchen sink. He would probably startle if you moved. 

“Are you helping her?” The man asks, flexing his arms experimentally. You frown, tilting your head.

“Who? What are you talking about?” You say, running a tired hand through your hair. “Can you come lay down on the couch again, your wound is bleeding.”

The man doesn't move, standing silent and still in the corner of your living room, right beside one of your large potted ferns. It looks pretty silly, but you have a feeling this man could kill you in an instant, so you don't laugh. Instead, you smile as friendly as you possibly can muster. 

“I'm just gonna deal with the blood coming from your chest wound again.” You say, taking a few steps towards the couch. The man surveys you, big black eyes scanning you from head to toe. Finally, after filling the apartment with awkward silence, the man speaks.

“You have no nen.”

“What?” You ask, wondering if perhaps a lack of blood is making him talk crazy. “What's nen?”

The man tilts his head, black hair cascading around his shoulders and chest again, until you watch in relief as he walks forward, plopping himself back on the couch. You sigh, grabbing for a cloth and wetting it in the kitchen sink, before moving towards the couch. You half expect him to jump up on the ceiling again, but the man stays still, body a line of tension as you stop in front of him, setting your damp cloth down on the table. 

“Lay down.” You say, unwinding the bandages. The man frowns. 

“Do it this way.” He demands, glaring up at you as you discard the bloody wrappings in the garbage can. You frown, crossing your arms.

“I can't clean the wound this way,” You say, tapping a foot impatiently. “Just lay down please.”

The man stares at you blankly for a moment, and then flops down on the couch with a small sigh. You swear you watch him roll his eyes as he lays there, spots of blood rolling down his well built chest. He's handsome. Too bad he's a damn asshole. 

You take the wet rag you dropped on the table, and gently begin to wipe away the blood from the edges of the cut. The man doesn't so much as whimper, or jostle at all. Silence fills the room, broken only by small even breaths and the sound of your feet tapping against the floor. Finally, you break the silence.

“What's your name, anyway?” You ask, unfolding your rag and turning to a side that isn't completely bloody. The man blinks at the ceiling.

“Why do you want to know?” He asks, even line of his voice interrupted with a slight hitch of breath as you accidentally brush over his wound. You sigh.

“You know my name.” You say, carefully edging around the wound. The man considers, blinking slowly and languidly like a sleepy cat.

“Illumi,” he finally says. You nod.

“It's nice to meet you, Illumi.” You say, smiling down at him as you reach down for the bandages. The man frowns.

“You have to stitch it up.” He says, gesturing down at the clean gash on his chest. You frown, picking up the first aid box and rifling through it. 

“I don't have any of the numbing stuff they use at the hospital,” You say, running a bloody hand through your hair. Wincing, you wonder how disheveled and bloody you look compared to the blinking porcelain doll before you. 

“I have a high pain tolerance.” Illumi says. 

“But i—”

“Just do it.”

“Fine,” You mutter, pulling the pack of surgical needles your nurse friend left behind for you, just in case. “But don't complain when it hurts, and when the stitching is uneven.”

Illumi simply grunts, lying down still and closing his blinking doll eyes. 

Your hand trembles as you thread the curved needle, and you dry your sweaty hand on your pants before you grip it tightly in your fingers. You know a bit about this from when your friend would study in college, but you've never actually done this yourself. 

“I'm sorry,” You mutter, lining up the needle with the edge of the cut. “This is gonna hurt.”

Illumi doesn't make a sound when the needle pierces his skin. You move as fast as you can, piercing only enough skin to sew the skin shut. It's uneven, but it's not bleeding anymore at least. You don't breathe until you're finished, until you toss the curved needle in the trash and wash your hands one final time. 

“There, all done.” You sigh, running another hand through your hair. You know for a fact that there's most definitely blood in your hair. You feel icky and dirty. 

Illumi opens his eyes, blinking blankly at the ceiling for a moment, before sitting up on the couch. 

“Your work is adequate, I suppose.” He says, sitting gingerly on the edge of your couch. You roll your eyes, searching in the first aid box for the bandages. 

“A simple thank you would work just fine.” You mutter. You can't find the bandages in the box. “Do you see a roll of white bandages? I'm sure I had some left.”

“Behind you,” Illumi says, nodding his head behind you. 

You turn, spotting the roll of white bandages on the floor behind you. They hadn't unrolled, thank goodness, but you hoped they were still sanitary. Sighing, you bend down, picking up the roll of bandages.

“You should keep better track of your stuff—” Illumi says, interrupting himself with a small choke, followed by a rather obvious cough. You stand up, bandages in hand and turn around.

“Hey, are you ok? Did the stitches pop?” You say, moving towards Illumi to check. He glares suddenly, crossing his legs on the couch.

“Stop,” he says. You pause, freezing in place. He coughs again, frowning. 

“You have blood on you,” He says, voice sounding a bit odd. “You should shower.”

“I mean I was going to anyway,” you mutter. “But what about your chest—”

“I'll do it myself.” Illumi says, voice stoic and cold. You raise an eyebrow. He sure is acting odd. Illumi just glares, holding out a hand for the bandages demandingly. Rolling your eyes, you toss him the bandages, and leave for your shower. 

✯✯✯

Illumis body aches. The gash really hurts, pulses beneath a layer of clean white bandages. But he's not worried about that. No, what he's really worried about is the swelling in his lower area. And not the kind from the bruise on his calf. For some reason, when that woman had bent over, Illumis dick had decided that it wanted to swell to life. It had then instructed his eyes to stare at it, and then to stare at your boobs when you stood up. His dick was the culprit. Illumi sighs, lying on the couch and staring up at the white ceiling of your apartment. It's a nice apartment. You're a nice girl. Very pretty too. But it's not like Illumi had noticed that or anything. Clearly, since he was injured, maybe his dick also thought it should be swelling up as well. 

The sound of the shower running in the other room hits Illumis ears. You're probably naked in there. It's how you should be in a shower. You would be weird for not being unclothed in the shower. Illumi doesn't know why his brain wants to fixate on your lack of clothing. Or the water tumbling down your body. Illumi sighs, closing his eyes against the bright light of your apartment. This night was a disaster. He had been defeated, caught unawares by his target and cut across the chest. He had barely escaped up a few flights of stairs before he had passed out against a random wall. And then he had woken up here, with a pretty girl who patched up his wounds. 

Illumi groans as the small pits of blood left in his body refuse to do his bidding, instead rushing to flood his dick. Fine. while you're in the shower he’ll take care of his needs and get it over with. Illumi lets out a sigh of relief, and presses a hand against his dick.

✯✯✯

You switch off the shower, tossing up your hair in a towel. You decided to take a quick shower, a bit worried about the weird guy on your couch. Illumi is really odd. Rude, standoffish, but really really handsome. Probably involved in some sort of illicit business, based on how warry he was about you. You sigh, tapping your serum into your skin.

You're almost done with your skincare routine when you hear it. A moan of pain from the living room.

You rush out of the bathroom, not really noticing your own nakedness, only worried for Illumis pain. He hadn't made that sound when you were stitching him up. Your mind was filled with gruesome images of him bleeding all over the floor or—

That wasn't what you got. Instead you got Illumi safe on your couch, his big black eyes staring somewhere below your collar bones. His hand wrapped around his hard cock. 

Your mouth drops open, as you stand there for a moment, genuinely shocked. And then you gulp up the saliva that dropped into your mouth as your eyes strayed down where they shouldn't and looked up to apologize.

Illumis eyes are darting between your boobs, your face, and your pussy. His hand is still clenched around his twitching dick. He looks like a deer in the headlights as you look at him. You flush, hints of arousal starting to trace their hot fingers down your body.

“I thought you were hurt.” You say lamely, as the towel drying your hair falls to the ground with a plop. Illumi frowns, a flush high on his cheekbones.

“I am.” He mutters, a slight hint of shame slinking its way onto his face. His eyes do their best to leave your body, black eyes staring directly into your own. 

“Oh,” You say, tilting your head in confusion. “You are?”

Illumi nods, ears burning a light pink. 

“I'm swollen.” He mutters, hand still clenched around his dick. Your mouth drops open again. Is he trying to seduce you? It's working, in a kind of awkward, cute way. Not to mention you wanna get him inside you. He's big. You giggle, shoving down your embarrassment as you move towards him, still naked.

“Oh no,” You say, voice trembling a bit. “I should probably check that out.”

Illumi nods, jerking his head up and down as you move closer. He moves to get up but you shake your head. 

“No, stay where you are.” You say, clambering onto the couch and straddling his legs. Illumi’s hand leaves his dick as his eyes blink, falling slightly. 

“I don't want to agitate the stitches,” You explain, playing with your pussy a bit. You're already quite wet, embarrassingly. Apparently all from seeing Illumi with his dick clenched awkwardly in his hand. Or maybe it was the way he looks at you. He probably doesn't realize it, but he looks at you like you're the most beautiful creature on the planet. 

“Are you clean?” You ask, damp hair falling down your back and dripping water down your back.

“Yes.” Illumi says, voice short and clipped. You grin, lining him up with your dripping entrance. 

“Me too. And I have an iud.” You say, tilting your head back as you lower yourself down, spearing yourself on him. You moan loudly, your back arching as he fills you, as he twitches inside you. Embarrassingly, you know you're not going to last long. You must be quite pent up. 

Illumis hands come up, gripping your waist tightly as he bottoms out inside of you, as your walls clench down around him. His hair fans out below him on the pillow, his ears and cheeks tinted a pale rosy pink. He looks about as undone as you're going to get him, and you find you like it very much. 

You set a medium pace, trying not to overwhelm him. He is still injured. You're careful to grip his sides, avoid the tender cut you stitched yourself. Illumi grunts. 

“I apologize. I am not very experienced.” He says, turning his eyes away from you. He almost looks ashamed of his inexperience. You smile, slamming down onto him again.

“You're doing great.” You smile, a moan tearing out of your throat. “Look, I'm gonna cum.”

Illumi looks where you're gesturing, at where your bodies are connected. Your pussy, stretched around him, seems to mesmerize him. He stares, eyes wide and curious, body tensing with arousal. You feel your own body trembling, your orgasm just looming on the edge of the horizon. 

“I'm gonna cum.” Illumi informs you, eyes moving from the place where your bodies connect, to stare at your boobs, bouncing up and down as you move. And finally, they land squarely on your eyes. You whimper, body trembling as your orgasm overwhelms you. 

‘Cummmig!” You whimper, bottoming out on him one final time, body trembling as you milk him for every spurt of cum he lets out. A small grunt leaks from between his clenched lips as he looks at you. The two of you keep eye contact as you cum together, falling off the cliff and tumbling towards the ocean below.

✯✯✯

Illumi is gone the next morning. You wake up groggy, body hurting from having slept on the couch all night and the first thing you see is a business card.

‘Illumi Zoldyck 

Professional Assassin

***-***-****’

The words ‘call me’ are scrawled in the corner. You almost fall off the couch in shock.

.....

Endnotes: how much Sexual Education do you think the Zoldycks give their kids. Probably none, lol. They are like essentially homeschool kids, right??

[wandixx]

My time has come :D

@scenerwiththegreenery (I'm not sure if it worked before, sorry) let me tag you, because I don't think you'll get a notification from reblog of the reblog. My credentials for this are, I'm Polish, I ecceled in history in high school and it's been less than 5 years since I've finished it, so knowledge is still fresh in my mind and I still can fact check with my textbook

Before anything else I want to say, that person above me wasn't wrong, it's all true, but the issue runs a bit deeper.

TL:DR: Germany and Russia or their "ancestor" countries (idk how to call it otherwise, I mean for example Prussia or First Reich) are two consistent enemies throughout all of over 1000 years of Polish history. And sure, we had other enemies, we had Kingdom of Bohemia ("ancestor" of Czech Republic) from time to time in Middle Ages, we had Turkiye in 15th to 17th century and Sweden in 17th, but Germany and Russia stayed quite consistently from 10th century to 20th and let's be honest, nobody gives that much of a shit about stuff that happened before 19th century and these two were big part of Polish history in 19th and 20th century, when they took Polish independence and actually tried to erase our ethnic identity/just straight up kill us.

(and also, there is really nice and I think quite popular angdote about what Turkiye's stance on Poland in 19th century that warms their image a bit)

But, to elaborate, though I'll still be only brushing the surface, feel free to ask for clarification/about more info about anything. What is considered as a first battle in Polish history is battle of Cedynia, 972 A.D. with German margrave Hodon. Wait, no, scratch that, first Polish historical ruler, founder of first unified Polish state, married Bohemian princess Dobrawa and got baptised along with his country (966 A.D.) from her country's hands for the expressed purpose of not letting German's do it by force and to get rid of one of their main "reasons" to attack which was "spreading one and only correct Christanity". Conflicts with Rus, ancestor country for both Ukraine and Russia started around the same time, though I think it was more warranted (I mean, I think it started with conflict for territories). But throughout the Middle Ages, it was either one of them or both (or Bohemia) that was at war with Poland.

Later, somewhen in 13th century Holy Roman Empire (Germany) was kinda replaced in it by... Teutonic Order, which full name is Order of Brothers of the German House of Saint Mary in Jerusalem, also known as Knights of the Cross, which is a name I'll be using going forward, because it's the one most similar to what we call them in Poland (Krzyżacy, singular being Krzyżak, from word "krzyż" meaning cross. If you want to raw translate this name, it's probably "cross guys"). Anyway, they first showed up in Jerusalem during crusades but then when they failed there, they decided to kill people of other faith closer to home and after being called to help with pagan Prussians that were attacking territories of one of the Polish dukes (Poland was separated into smaller countries that were only kinda tied to each other in 1138, but it's not the time to talk about that), they did help, and then forged some important documents and set up wholeass country in what is now norhtern Poland, Kaliningrad, part of Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia (not from the get go, but they reached that size). To keep it short, second Polish ruling family, Jagielonian dynasty, was more or less definied by their wars with Knights of the Cross, with first one, Władysław Jagiełło, Grand Duke of Lithuania, even becoming Polish king because both Poland and Lithuania needed an ally in war with the Order. Because of Knights of the Cross Lithuania got baptised (from Polish hand). Most famous battle in our history, battle of Grunwald, was in war with Order (also, check out Matejko's painting under this name, it's absolutely amazing. Actually, just check out Matejko, he's a legend). Two last kings of this dynasty, Sigmund I Old and Sigmund II August, are considered good kings among all else, because they finally got rid of Knights of the Cross, though many think they should've done it differently, because what was left of the Order later became Prussia, which .

Also, SIgmund II August turned Polish-Lithuanian union from, and here please correct me if I translated the terms wrong, personal, menaing one ruler two countries, to real, meaning that Poland and Lithuania became one country, known as Polish-Lithanian Commonwelth (in Polish it's Rzeczpospolita Obojga Narodów, which can be translated as Republic of Both Nations). And you know what pushed Lithuanian nobility to agree to it? Russia (and I think they wanted to sell stuff in Poland without border tax whatever it's called in English, since for sure it's not "cło")

Unfortunatelly, Sigmund II died without son or younger brother so Polish and Lithuanian nobility, especially Parliament, made out of Sejm and Senat, was at loss in regard of who should be a king. In the end they decided it should be elected position (before anyone comes at me, yes, I know Jagiellonians were elected too, but they were elected from the same family because they were ruling family, and after Sigmund's death whoever wanted could become the king, if they were of noble blood and won "unanimous" election). Anyway, throughout this period (so from middle of 16th century up to year 1795) it was on and off with Russia, with addition of Sweden and Turkiye (no really, when I've been writing an essay about Polish-Lithuanian foreign policy in first half of 17th century, it was Sweden, Turkiye, Russia, Turkiye, Sweden, Russia, oh, now they're attacking simultaneously) and German nobility was always up as candidates in election, with two of them trying to usurp the throne with use of army when they lost. First one lost, second one won, which was probably symptomatic of Commonwealth's fall as a country, but again, it's much bigger issue I don't have time to go into.

Anyway, through power of politics, money and use of weaknesses of Commonwealth political system (fuck liberum veto) they, though mostly Russia, managed to weaken it and made it they're vassal to the point, where in 1772, 1793 and 1795 with Austria in first and last one, they just yoinked big parts of our territories, and at last, took our independece (in Polish history, this is called "rozbiory" in English partitions. Time between last partition and 1918, when Poland regained independence is called "zabory") and frankly here is where whole beef really starts.

Because, a) they took our independence, I think it's pretty good reason to don't like them, but what's more important, b) they started to try to erase our ethnic and cultural identity. The b) point is why we don't have such big beef with Austria. In Austrian part, Polish language was used in administration, Polish culture was allowed to flourish, there were Polish representatives in Austro-Hungarian parliament. And of course, it wasn't perfect, there is that time when they tricked Polish peasants into ruthlessly murdering local nobility, and this region generaly was kinda forgotten by capital and poor as chuch mouse, but at least they were allowed to be Polish.

At the same time, 19th century is the time, when both in Prussian, later German part of what used to be Commonwealth, and in Russian part seprated into so called autonomy of Kingdom of Poland and on territiories that were sucked into Russia, Polish ethnic identity, history and culture was prosecuted in more or less subtle ways. There are many stories of people send to Syberia (which was kinda to Russia what Australia was to British Empire, just really cold) because they were reading Polish books, or fighting in uprisings. And yes, Kingdom of Poland had a constitution that had many neat things written in it but every one who mattered had it so far up they're ass they could spit random paraghraphs. In schools, even in Kingdom, Russian was main language and lessons of Polish were a thing but they were facultative and during really inconvinient hours, usually with a teacher who knew they couldn't make it too engaging. In Prussia it was also forbidden to learn in Polish, with exception of Religious Education (there was famous protest of children in Września when they tried to take that away). Prussian government was also really forcefully repressing Poles in general, making it harder for them to compete with Prussian buisness or even build a house on their property (Drzymała, the ultimate player, started living in the wagon and moved it a bit every day, so the ban couldn't be applied (it was worded in a way, that meant immobile real estate and since his wagon was mobile... They got him anyway, through some creative use of law).

Anyway, it was a bad time, and I think we would be right to hold grudge even without the absolute tragedy that was WWII and communist reign later, but it happened. So, Poland regained independence in 1918, in 1920 we were already at war with communist Russia, that was won through power of "fuck you we just got our independence, we won't give it away", strategic genius of Polish army commander and Stalin's pride. Then it was kinda chill until 1939, which was good, because we had like... five different laws about trade I think (sorry, I've been writing this post for three hours, I can't be bothered to check right now) and two different sizes of train tracks and bunch of other stuff that needed to be taken care of, even without Great Depression and authoritarianism.

And then there was WWII, during which Poland lost biggest amout of people, when compared to the size, and most of them were civilians because a) before war around 30% of population was fromethnic minorities and biggest one were Jews, b) Slavic people were only slightly "better" in eyes of nazi's than Jews c) Soviets were also killing or exiling to Siberia a lot of people. And I mean, a lot. When Hitler attacked, only from men who were exiled Stalin managed to form 2 armies, and it's even without dozen thousand of Polish army and police officers, who were murdered in 1939-40. And they were murdered, because there is something called the law of war (geneva conventions for example) and according to it, prisoners of war are supposed to be kept alive and relatively well, and they were prisoners of war. And they were shot in the back of their heads and buried in mass graves, sometimes with some substances that were supposed to make body unidentifiable.

Also, in Poland we have the most of concentration camps because here lived the most of people that were supposed to be killed, the food rations that Poles were legally allowed to eat were downward starvation rations, you could never tell, when going down the street you could be shot or taken away to concentration camp just because, nazi's destroyed around 80% of Warsaw (Polish capital) urban fabric and according to Hitler's order stone on the stone was not supposed to be left and so on and so on. Also, they stole a lot of great pieces of art and suff and we're still searching for some of them, but really, it's pretty minor in comprasion.

From my family history, only from my one grandma I have both relative killed by Soviets, for simple sin of working in City Hall, and relative killed by nazis (my great grandpa)

And then after the WWII USSR came to "liberate" us, which was really from bad to worse, and involved great population displacement and we only managed to get rid of them in 1989, and sorry, I won't elaborate right now, because it's still too close and too much of a lived experience to many, including my parents and I can't promise I won't get a bit too aggressive about it

So yeah, asking if Poland is closer to Germany or Russia is really, really insensitive and fucked up and don't do it please. It's esecially asking which of our oppressors are we closer to and it's just... no. But asking if were closer to Czech or Lithuania could be funny and interesting conversation actually (unless Lithuanians would get mad about that, I heard they don't like us Poles all that much)

Just saw on Quora a guy asking if Poland was more German or Russian and every reply was a Polish guy detailing the ways they wanted to kill him

[fizzyapplecandy]

The one with the vampire royals and their doll - Part 5

Previous parts can be found here

Ateez Seonghwa X Hongjoong X Reader

Genres and warnings: vampire Matz x human reader, strangers to lovers, poly relationship, fluff, angst, mild smut, mature language, talking about blood

Word count: 2.5k

You share a special moment with Seonghwa, and he barely holds back his hunger

"So, where are you taking me?"

It was still surreal that you were sitting in a ten thousand dollar car with an ethereal man who not only gifted you jewelry, but he was taking you on a mysterious outing. Seonghwa's lips pulled back in a smirk and he glanced at you.

"To my favourite place in this town." he says.

You frown. "Okay, again, that doesn't tell me much."

He chuckles. "You're just impatient. I don't want to spoil it."

You let a comfortable silence envelope you after that. You didn't want to pry because he obviously wanted to do something nice for you. It was almost dark outside, and the stars were starting to appear in the sky. It's difficult to see them clearly this time of year because it was slowly starting to get cloudy. You didn't like fall and winter because you were always cold, and there is never anything fun to do.

The car stopped and Seonghwa lightly grazed your arm to get your attention.

"We're here. We just have to take a short walk through the trees."

Looking out the window you noticed you were in a wooded area on the upper part of the town. It wasn't really a place you ever went to, and you were kind of nervous. As if he could sense your jitters, he put a finger under your chin and turned your head towards him.

"Hey now doll, we don't have to go if you don't want to. It would be a shame though, but I respect your wishes."

You sighed. "It's not that I don't want to. It's just..."

He nodded for you to go on.

"I don't know you that well, and were about to walk into the woods."

Seonghwa chuckled, caressing your cheek.

"Oh doll... You're a smart one, I give you that. You can text your little friend if you want, send him your location."

You lightly leaned into his touch, and he seemed pleased with your actions, even if you were unaware of them.

"I'll... I'll do that. Thank you. It's nothing personal really, just a precaution if you will."

Shooting a quick text to Yeosang, you told him you were done and the both of you got out of the car. It was pretty chilly now, and you didn't take your jacket with you this morning. Seonghwa caught the sound of your teeth clattering, and he felt sad for a second. If you were the same as him, you would never feel cold, hungry, tired... The worst part of it was that he couldn't warm you with his body, seeing as his skin remained ice cold for hundreds of years now.

He could, however, offer you his blazer.

You felt something drop around your shoulders and looked at Seognhwa, now only clad in a dress shirt.

"Seonghwa! You'll freeze in that! Here, take this back."

His hands stopped yours from pulling the garment off, and he arranged it to cover you again. He couldn't keep his hands off you tonight, because his fingers were caressing your cheek again.

"Don't worry about me. Please, I insist." Without waiting for your reply, he took you by the hand and started walking down a pebbled path.

"This way, my dear. It's just a short walk."

You were surprised how well he navigated through the rough terrain, managing to stay as graceful as a swan, while you stumbled on your feet quite a few times.

"When I feel overwhelmed with the world, I usually come here to feel some peace. Nobody besides Hongjoong knows about this spot." He glanced at you before continuing.

"I hope you can use it when some days get tough. I also hope you think of me."

Your cheeks warmed, and you smiled at him. Before you could say anything, Seonghwa moved a tree branch and your breath got caught in your throat.

You were up on a cliff, the town you live in lighting up in the distance. When you looked up, the stars could be seen as clear as day. The sky was truly beautiful at night, and you missed being able to count the shining diamonds up there.

"Do you like it?"

Seonghwa now stood by your side, hand still holding onto yours, and he gazed down on you with a twinkle in his eyes.

You swallowed, breaking out of your daze.

"It's... It's beautiful, Seonghwa. I can see why you like it."

The wind picked up a bit, and seeing how you were up on a cliff, you felt shivers going down your spine. Seonghwa stepped behind you, letting go of your hand in favour of wrapping both arms around your shoulders. You were now pressed against him, but you had to admit it didn't help in bringing you warmth. You didn't want to say anything because you knew he'd move away.

You almost forgot about an important thing - he was married.

"Seonghwa... Are you sure this is okay?" You were too afraid to look up at him, so you just continue staring ahead at the bright lights shining from your town.

"Why wouldn't it be? We're just sharing some... Body heat." It felt almost unnatural for Seonghwa to say something like that, but he couldn't stop himself from wrapping you in his embrace. He could be selfish for a moment, you'd warm up in the car.

"Yeah, but... I mean..." You pointedly stared at the precious ring you gave up not so long ago, and he caught up quickly.

"Oh! You're worried about Hongjoong?" He chuckled.

His head was now perched on your shoulder, his arms tightening around you. He slowly came closer to your ear, and the shivers you felt weren't from the cold now.

"To be honest doll... He'd probably be jealous of me right now."

"Jealous?!" You almost shouted.

"That's right." He said.

He was still too close, but you mustered the courage to turn your head and look at him. His eyes were half closed, and his gaze made you feel shy all of the sudden.

"Why would he... I mean... He's your..."

You stumbled with your words, feeling him squeeze you even closer.

Seonghwa leaned his forehead against yours, and you stopped breathing for a second.

"My husband, yes. But you... You're our doll now. At least, we hope you want to be. However, I think he needs to be present for that conversation. For now... Just enjoy the moment. Don't worry your pretty head about it."

You managed to nod, not understanding a word he meant, but you were too frozen to react. He was close, too close. His eyes darted over your face, stopping when he reached your lips. You unconsciously licked your lips, and you swear his mouth twitched. He took a deep breath, and you didn't expect his next move at all.

Seonghwa pushed you away, a bit harshly, and turned around. You could see his whole body shaking, but you had no clue what to do.

"Seonghwa? Are you okay? Did I do something?"

He rolled his shoulders before slowly turning towards you again. His expression was now blank, but he still reached for your hand. It seemed to calm him a bit, and he cleared his throat.

"Sorry, doll. Maybe the cold got to me suddenly. Should we go back now? You must be tired."

His tone seemed almost emotionless now, but you couldn't figure out what happened in the last few minutes to change the atmosphere so much.

"Oh... You're right. Here, take your blazer back, I'll manage until we get to the car."

He shook his head, his tense expression lightening slightly.

"No, doll. Keep it around you, you need it more. Come now, let's head to the car."

Without another word, he slowly guided you down the path to his car. There was definitely something up with him, but you didn't want to agitate him with your questions. Maybe you said something wrong? Maybe he realised it wouldn't be okay to stay this close to you because of Hongjoong?

"Now where did you wander off?"

His voice brought you out of your head and into the present again. You stumbled a bit on your words.

"I-I... Well... I-Is.."

His hands grabbed yours and he crouched to be at eye level.

"Breathe. I told you, everything is fine. Now, get inside before you turn into a popsicle." He chuckled.

"Although, I wouldn't mind a sweet treat."

You probably looked like a fool trying to decipher his words because he burst into laughter.

"Oh doll... You sweet, sweet thing."

He opened the door for you and guided you inside, buckling your seatbelt again. You were too out of it to register him until he started the car.

You fidgeted with your fingers until his palm covered your shaking hands.

"I want you to know that I had a wonderful time. I am delighted you loved the spot, and you can use it whenever you feel overwhelmed, or you just want to run away from the world. I'd be happy to join you anytime, Hongjoong as well."

Your head turned to glance at him, and he had a far more relaxed expression on his face now. It seemed like the tension melted, and you were glad it didn't last long.

"Thank you, Seonghwa. I would love to go there again sometime."

The ride turned peaceful afterwards, and you felt at ease with his big hand wrapped around both of yours. You kept it light with the small talk, enjoying getting to know him a bit more. He sometimes talked as if he came out of a regal era, but it suited him. Hongjoong was definitely the more relaxed out of the two, and you could see how they complimented each other with their behaviours.

Your building came into view after some time, but it felt too soon for you. Seonghwa seemed to be on the same page.

"Here we are doll. I must say, I miss you already."

"I haven't even left the car yet." You said, followed by a chuckle.

"Doesn't matter. I know you're about to leave, and that's unfortunate. Say doll..."

"Yes?"

"Can we arrange a date with you soon? My husband and I are getting a bit impatient." He smiled after asking you.

You frowned a bit. "You both keep calling it a date, but okay."

Seonghwa lightly squeezed your hands as if to say 'It is', but you didn't want to divulge in that topic.

"I already told him I have some plans this Saturday-"

"-Then we can do it on Sunday."

You went silent for a moment before bursting into genuine laughter. It was like you were a teenager all over again.

"Eager, are we?" The laughter died down as his face came close to yours again.

His nose almost touched yours before we shrugged.

"What can I say, you mesmerize us that much."

The blush on your cheeks was instantaneous, and Seonghwa lightly brushed over one with his fingers.

"What a beauty..." He almost sighed out of pleasure.

If he hadn't moved first, you'd probably still be in that position, too shy to do anything.

"Now, off you go. You need to warm up and get some sleep. Hongjoong will be here in the morning to take you to work, I'll pick you up after."

You opened your mouth to protest, but closed it after he held a finger in the air.

"No, no. I don't want to hear a word. Let us do this, we want it."

Your mouth closed, and honestly you were past the point of arguing about it anymore. Accepting their offer was the easiest way to go.

"Okay, If that's what you want. Tell Hongjoong I said hi, and I'll see you both tomorrow."

Seonghwa reached over to unclasp your seatbelt, and he took the chance to caress your cheek again. He couldn't stop touching you, and you weren't complaining, so he took it as a good sign.

"See you tomorrow, doll. We hope you give us an answer for Sunday."

"Y-Yeah. Bye, Seonghwa." Before you could say something embarrassing, you practically jumped out of the car and speed walked towards your building.

Turning around, you found him watching you, making sure you got to the door before he waved and drove off.

Only when you entered your apartment did you realise his blazer was still wrapped around your shoulders.

.

.

Hongjoong was on the edge of his seat. Seonghwa was supposed to be home over an hour ago, but there was no sign of him. Maybe something happened when he went to get you? Or did you change your mind about them and turn him away? Seonghwa had... Unhealthy coping mechanisms, and he got into a frenzy anytime something didn't go as he planned.

The sigh of relief he let out as he heard his husband's Porsche pulling up the driveway made his anxiety disappear.

Hongjoong got up from the couch and went to the entrance of their mansion. The man of the hour came in, a dazed expression on his face.

"Hello, my star. I was worried about you for a second." He wanted to joke some more, but Seonghwa's expression turned serious.

"I almost lost it today Joong. I almost..."

"Oh..." Hongjoong realised what he was talking about.

Seonghwa, despite being hundreds of years old, still struggled with his hunger sometimes. It wasn't even about hunger, it was about the thrill fresh, human blood gave him. He's gotten better at managing it, surely, but you were an unexpected trigger for both of them. Hongjoong was just better at dealing with it.

"Yeah, oh. Her neck was... It was so close. Her scent... I had to detangle myself from her delicate body so quickly it made her confused."

What? Hongjoong frowned a bit.

"You... What did the two of you do?"

Seognhwa realised how that might have sounded, so he explained it to his husband better.

Hongjoong was a jealous person by nature, but he looked so pleased with what Hwa was telling him. You were slowly getting used to their affection, and the only twinge of jealousy he felt was because he wasn't the one close to you today.

"So, you managed to control yourself? That's a huge improvement love. You did amazing, and you made our doll happy today."

He embraced his husband, stroking the back of his neck like he always did.

"Thank you, my love. You should have seen her, she was so close... Her lips were this close to mine." Seonghwa leaned in to show Hongjoong, and their eyes met. There will always be a flame burning between them, and the heat of the moment, fueled by Seonghwa's story about their doll, only enhances their feelings.

"This close, yeah? Say, my star... How would you have kissed her?"

Seognhwa pushed Hongjoong against the wall by the entrance, caging him in with his arms.

"Oh, love... I'm about to show you just how I would have handled our precious doll, and much more."

.

.

The relationship between the boys and our reader is getting closer! Stay tuned for future updates, because she still has to meet Wooyoung, and our favourite married couple is taking her on a date.

Lots of love, and happy reading X

[wandixx]

DPxDC WEEK 2024

Day 2: "There is only so much you can do for the dead"

Trigger warning: mention of character death (who would have thought xD)

Something was off. Not enough to call it wrong, but eno8gh to be an obvious break in routine. M’gann could feel it in her bones.

Not only was Phantom still with them, in the Mountain, even though everything mission related was over, he was nervous too. The one sure thing about Phantom was that he didn't get nervous, no matter if he faced Batman, Light or almost god-like ghosts, he took them on with an easy smile and he always went back to Amity Park as fast as he could after mandatory Young Justice activities.

Rest of the Team caught onto it too, but they put on a good show of looking relaxed and unbothered. Wally went off to storm the kitchen, Robin and Artemis dropped on the couch, only feet and told of the ponytail visible over the backrest. Kaldur and Conner took armchairs, either reading (or rather holding the book opened on the random page) or nodding off (sitting with his eyes closed). Normally M’gann would either drift to the kitchen or get whoever occupied the couch to make some space for her, but as it was, she kept standing so Phantom would feel less awkward from his place by the door. He looked like he considered bolting and ever coming back. M'gann smiled at him.

She liked Phantom. He was kind and funny, always beyond helpful. He wasn't the best at combat, be it aerial or on the ground, but he was willing to listen and learn. He was a good listener. He understood her struggle with Mars better than she expected anyone on Earth. He had a pretty smile.

There was no sign of it now.

“So…” Phantom started and everyone whipped around to look at him. Even Wally “coincidentally“ got back from the kitchen right at that moment (M’gann called him, like he asked) “I know it's not something we do, but uhm… do you maybe have a spare room I could borrow on Monday? Soundproof if you have it?”

Robin dropped back down, but turned on his wrist computer and jumped between some pages. M’gann didn't see a point in that, since they obviously had spare soundproof rooms, but she kept quiet. Robin usually knew what he was doing.

“No problem, why though?”

Phantom winced, rubbing the back of his neck. M'gann's nose wrinkled when she sensed a tangled mess of his feelings but she (barely) stopped herself from looking deeper. He wouldn't like it in the slightest.

Small red dot blinked from Robin's computer. He was recording it. Smart move.

“It's… it's a bit… ugh, I don't know how to even start”

“Take your time”

“I've been taking my time for two weeks, it's time I actually say it” he groaned, rubbed his face so hard it got a little bit greener and started again “Apparently, ghosts have this thing called Death Day and mine is coming. During this time, I'll re-live… re-die… re-experience my death and then just lie unresponsive for a few hours. It's supposed to lessen with time, but it's my first so… you know”

Everyone froze for a moment. It's not that they didn't know that Phantom was a ghost and ergo that he died, but… it was easy to forget when he had so many powers that for M’gann saw as normal, it was easy to forget with the way he bled, it was easy to forget with how he talked about his live still in present tense, it was easy to forget with how painfully normal he tried to be all the time.

But then he'd say something and make them remember. No matter how many times it happened, it was never easier to remember.

“That's… rough,” Wally muttered awkwardly.

“Yeah. I'm kinda scared actually.”

“No shit, it sounds terrifying even as a concept. Though, why soundproof?” Artemis asked, more curious than demanding. Phantom curled in on himself, looking and feeling like he needed only a slightest trigger to fully disappear.

“I will be screaming. Of course, I don't remember the time I actually died, but I was told I screamed, really loud. I don't want you to hear it. No need for you to feel guilty over something that already happened”

This felt… weird and M’gann wanted to elaborate but then Phantom’s phone buzzed and in five seconds flat he was out with a last yell of:

“Something came up in Amity, gotta go!”

***

Pshshshksh

“Hey Phantom, we've got an idea about your D Day”

“Never call it that again, I swear to God Kod Flash”

“Alright, alright. But do you want to hear our idea?”

“Shoot”

“We thought we could get you something for your grave. Aqualad reached out to some contacts to learn more about ghost stuff and apparently it should help”

“Huh, that's nice. There is only one problem”

“Yes?”

“I don't have a grave”

***

They were supposed to have a free afternoon, they already got all adults to back off, even Robin went to convince Batman to cancel all of the training and missions planned. They didn't explain why. Phantom hadn't said a word about adults, it felt like a betrayal to mention it outside of their circle.

They were supposed to have a free afternoon, so they could keep Phantom safe and be close in case he needed anything even if he said he'd rather have them as far as he could. They weren’t going to listen in of course, but there was no way they'd stay away.

They were supposed to have a free afternoon, but then, right after Phantom showed up, alarms started blaring, because it had to be the day when there was an emergency in Happy Harbour and they were the only ones on the watch. Because of course there was.

And of course Phantom went with them despite the protests, waving them off by saying his Death Day shouldn't start for a bit longer.

It wasn't reassuring.

Especially not with how he stumbled halfway through the hangar and was loopy in a way M’gann could sense without even a psychic glance in his direction.

“When exactly is your Death Day? Like, do we have hours or minutes?” Conner asked, clearly worried about his friend.

Phantom leaned awkwardly on the rough wall, trying and failing to look relaxed and casual instead of barely keeping himself upright.

“I'm not quite sure honestly–”

“WHY THE HELL YOU WENT ON THE MISSION THEN!!!”

Robin, maybe a bit frantically, waved at the ghost to make him follow.

“Chill Artemis, please. My senses are already going haywire, I would really appreciate it if everyone stuck to their indoor voice. Death Day mess starts only when I'm feeling safe, so don't worry, it wouldn't hinder the rescue”

“That's literally not the point but you seem out of it right now, we will talk when you're lucid again,” Artemis sighed, and nodded at M’gann who raised Phantom off the floor after he stumbled on the even ground for the third time.

They were following Robin, who was posturing confidence while he led the way to the room he picked, but without the usual bounce to his step. Wally was on Phantom’s other side with a plate of cookies he somehow got in the meantime, as if it gave him any purpose to follow other than worry, while everyone else trailed behind, not bothering with even a thin veil to cover their concern.

Even Phantom caught onto that, despite being almost loopy enough to start some deep philosophical debate with the next “incredibly intelligent looking” shadow, but kept it to himself. As far as M’gann could tell without going in deeper, he seemed happy if moved by all of their attention.

“How else can we help you?“ Kaldur asked, growing more and more angry with silence and inability to do anything of use.

“N'thin’” ghost slurred “Lithewally. ‘m suwe you want t’ help buh… buh… ‘m already dead, you c’n't do ‘nythin’. You c'n't save muh. No ned f’r you t’ see it. F'rget ‘bout it”

Nobody said anything to that, because what could they say?

Robin opened the door solemnly and M’gann carried Phantom over to the bed while everyone else came in, dragged in by both concern and morbid curiosity. Phantom refused to settle in though, desperately looking at each of them.

“Please, promise you'll forget about that” he begged again, in the surprising moment of lucidity.

“We will” Someone lied.

“Thanks. Now go,” Phantom said with a choked up smile before going limp like a puppet without strings. For a long moment nobody moved, just staring as Phantom’s body laid unmoving, as if they were watching a car accident that they just couldn't drag their eyes away from.

“Rigor mortiss is settling in” Artemis posted out with horrible emptiness in her voice. Robin suddenly looked ill. Wally put down the cookie plate on the nightstand with a loud clatter, before booking it out of there and dragging Artemis and Kaldur out with him. M’gann caught Conner and Robin, both still to stunned to move on their own, and lead them out at much slower but still quite hasty pace.

First gut wrenching scream rang out before the door fully closed.

There was no way they'd ever forget that.

part 2

[aeragan]

ʀᴇᴀʟ ᴛᴀʟᴋ

✭ pairing(s): boothil x reader x gallagher

✩ inspo: Disease by Lady Gaga

★ in which: you and boothill find quite the catch while on a 'vacation' in penacony.

✧ a/n: ive been cooking this up for a while but i FINALLY got the motivation to finish it. oh. boy. do i need these two in such a carnal way UGHHH. BIBLICAL EVEN! i admit... these two are the only reason ive been writing for hsr lately :,) happy valentines day i guess. nothing more romantic then cucking

🗒 cw: SMUT, gn reader, afab reader (no use of breasts), threesome, established relationship (boothill/reader), boothill doesnt have a cock, biting, fingering, p in v, creampie, cuck boothill, cum eating, porn no plot (sorta), not proofread

✎ wc: 4.3k

MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY

You and Boothill had the same taste in people, and it was one of the things that had brought you together. Obviously, you loved the cowboy, all rough ‘n’ tough, yet still so soft for you and only you. And he loved you equally, if not more. That was uncontested. But you both could appreciate others, as well. Especially older men, (un)fortunately. You two can’t help it. A good silver fox can’t help getting a hold of your hearts. But even moreso, you two could appreciate a man who was just a little bit of a mess, a man who needed maybe just a little work.

Lucky for you two, you had been blessed. When Boothill announced he’d be going to Penacony (“Not for pleasure, ‘kay sugar? Only business.” Is what he said. What a lie.), you practically jumped at the idea. You wanted to get out of the house, personally, and also wanted a little taste of his life. Downtime with him was rare, so why not just… join him? And he obliged oh so easily to his darling lover. You didn’t even have to pull out the puppy eyes to get him to crack. So it was a win on your part, you got to enjoy a nice little expensive vacation with your boyfriend, and he got to have you along for the ride.

However, it was a blessing in disguise. One night you had finally convinced Boothill to get a drink with you, finding a nice little bar at the top floor of the Dreamscape Reverie. It felt classy enough, yet it wasn’t too expensive. A welcoming atmosphere, aside from the few oddities here and there. Not that you cared. You were getting a nice little date in one of the most sought after places with your partner. What more could you want?

That’s when God’s perfect man walks in. Or out. You don’t remember. Fluffy and messy brown hair, eyebags that put yours to shame, messy shirt and tie, body hair peeking out between the gap in his shirt, while the button holds on for dear life, and just enough chub to make you straighten up. Both you and Boothill’s jaws drop at the sight. A slew of naughty things invade your mind, and it's as if you and Boothill are suddenly telepathic. You can tell what he’s thinking by the gleam in his eye, and he can tell by the way you clear your throat and pretend like everything’s normal.

Now, you two don’t talk much about every handsome stranger you’d see. But something about the way the man carried himself, so nonchalant, yet so passionate when he was mixing drinks, it had both of you chatting about him for days. Seeing a man so fine has even stopped Boothill’s thought processes, throwing away whatever he was doing to chase down this handsome man. It leads to you two taking a seat at the Holstery every night, theorizing about him and every other aspect. If he was a whiskey or a bourbon man, if he was as skilled in other things other than mixology, and much more.

Boothill was bold enough to talk to him a couple of times, taking it in his hands to flirt juuust a little, to get the hint across. You, on the other hand, chose to stay quiet, afraid that the shamelessness of your thoughts would manifest in words. You weren’t about to pounce. While it was true you only had a couple more days, you were too scared to approach. Boothill was more than happy to shoot his shot for the both of you.

As of now, you had two days left in Penacony, before Boothill had to catch his bounty and turn them in. Obviously, he was putting it off. This old man has caught his eye and he’d be damned if he would give up. You two had taken a seat at a table, chatting away as you enjoyed the last couple of sips of your SoulGlad, before Boothill took the bottle from you.

“C’mon, ain’t no lover of mine gonna drink this weak kinda stuff,” He huffs, swatting your hand away as you reach for the bottle. “Gotta have more refined tastes. Like–”

“You know I don’t like that stuff. Now gimme my drink back!” You huff and reach for it again, only for your hand to be swatted away once more. He tuts and leans back, rolling his eyes dramatically. “What? You gonna drink it?”

“Heck no! Just don’t want you gettin’ too into this stuff before we leave. Cause then you’ll be beggin’ me to take you back and get you some…”

He continues to prattle on, pulling the bottle away everytime you reach for it. This back and forth continues on for a little bit, Boothill doing his best to get you to finally try Malt Juice, or to admit you at least liked it. Of course, you could get up and just buy yourself another bottle. But there was no guarantee that Boothill wouldn’t take that one. Still, if he was going to be so annoying about a drink, you wouldn’t mind wasting a few more credits until he gave up.

Just as you are about to stand up, an arm stretches past your peripheral. You are ashamed to admit you know who’s arm it is. 

“Hey now, if you’re not gonna give them their drink, figured they’d get one from me, on the house,” His rugged voice makes you squirm a little, something you aren’t exactly proud of. Or that you did well to hide. His eyes track your movement with a knowing grin. “Gotta treat your partner right.”

Boothill seems equally stunned (and possibly turned on?) as you are. As the man takes a seat, Boothill recovers quickly, clearing his throat. “Well, if I knew you’d be joinin’ us, I would’ve stolen their drink much sooner.”

“Heh. Coulda just asked, too,” The man shoots back, as you take a drink from your bottle. His eyes linger on you for a moment too long, only pulling away when you meet his gaze. “But I don’t think I’ve heard your names, yet. Gotta know my new favorite regulars.”

Boothill is quick to introduce the two of you, making conversation as the night continues. Somehow he’s able to hold onto your older bottle of SoulGlad throughout the entirety of it, while you sip on the one you got for free. It’s nice to finally have a name to the face; Gallagher. And goodness, he’s a lot more chatty than you thought. At some point, his lingering looks turn into hesitant touches. Tapping at Boothill’s hands, or nudging you to add your wisdom to the conversation. 

You lose track of time, the other patrons slowly leaving until it was just you three. In that time, casual conversation turned into not-so-subtle innuendos, and eventually, Boothill is comfortable enough to shoot his shot.

“Well, Gallagher, me and my partner don’t have much time left here,” Boothill looks over at the man with hooded eyes and a smirk, “And we’d like… we’re lookin’ for some fun before we leave. If you catch my drift.”

Gallagher looks over at you, at Boothill’s words, and all you do is shoot him a wink and a smile, and he straightens at this, adjusting his tie.

“Alright, just let me help my friend close up the bar, and I guess we’ll be on our way,” He says with a smile, before pushing himself up and out of his seat and walking back off to the bar where a Halovian girl was cleaning glasses.

Boothill looks back at you with that same smirk, leaning forward and resting his chin on his palm. “Well now, that was easy enough. Got a plan for tonight, sweetheart?”

“Hm, not really. Didn’t expect us to get this far, to be honest,” You shrug, watching Gallagher for a moment before turning your attention to Boothill. “Guess we’ll just see where it goes.”

“It’s all up to you. And him, I suppose. I’m happy doin’ whatever,” He shrugs, eyes lingering on your form. “But if you don’t want to do anythin’– I shoulda asked beforehand–”

“– I do want this, I mean–” You gesture towards Gallagher, who, even if he was doing the most banal closing tasks, was still hot. “– Look at him. I wouldn’t mind getting a piece of that.”

“Alright, alright. But if you get uncomfortable at any point, you tell me, and we’ll stop it. My fault for askin’ him first before askin’ you,”

“Boots, you can practically read my mind. If you didn’t do it, I would’ve,”

Boothill chuckles, turning his head back to the bar. Now, Gallagher was chatting away with the other bartender, putting away cups and cleaning down the counters. After a moment, he catches both of you staring, and shoots the two of you a sly grin, before going back to his work. You cross your legs for no reason in particular, turning your gaze towards Boothill once more, blushing. He stared for a while longer, a cocky grin plastered to his face as he watched Gallagher move around the bar, before sighing and pushing himself up from his chair.

“C’mon, let’s wait for him by the doors,” He gestures towards the entrance as you hesitantly get up, “Don’t know if I can wait much longer…”

All you feel you can do is nod, reaching for his hand to squeeze. You felt the need to ground yourself, considering the heat that rose in your core. Boothill could easily rile you up, but having a man that was practically a stranger had the same effect on you, even if he was quite handsome, made you feel uneasy. In a horribly good way. It made your stomach flip-flop with anticipation.

“Awh, you that excited, darlin’?” He coos, his other hand reaching up and cupping your face. His thumb runs over your bottom lip, as he bites his own. “Bet we’ll make you feel real good– I know we will.”

A sinful shiver runs down your spine, before you’re able to retort and allow yourself some leeway before you inevitably melt, Gallagher joins you two at the door. Any hopes of being somewhat coherent and not seeming like a nymphomaniac were dashed the minute he looked down at you with a sleazy smile.

“We ready?” Gallagher hums, scratching the stubble underneath his chin and acting so goddamn nonchalant.

“Yes sir,” Boothill says, almost too excited. He seemed mighty proud of himself, hands falling from your face, placing one on the small of your back. Even the cold of his steel hand seeping through your clothes does little to dampen the burning arousal beneath your stomach. Ugh, you want to punch him for starting this fire too early.

Gallagher looks down at you and raises a brow, and you nod enthusiastically. “Alright,” He mutters, gesturing to the hallway down to the elevator. “Let’s get going, then.” He places his hand on your shoulder for a moment, warm and… welcoming, in a way, before he realizes that he may be overstepping, falling from your shoulder.

Walking in between these two men is practically suffocating. The heat between your legs refuses to die, making walking feel like a chore. When you look at Boothill, he walks with a pep in his step, some unnecessary confidence that you can’t figure out if it’s because he got you all hot and flustered, or if he was proud to have gotten Gallagher in bed with you two. Or both. It was probably both.

Gallagher, on the other hand, was walking like he just won the lottery. Sort of. He also had a smile on his face, but his steps were even and measured. It was difficult for you to keep your eyes on his face, wanting so badly to stare at his chest. Not that you wouldn’t see it when you got to your room, but it was just so damn tempting.

You’re able to reign yourself in for a moment, shifting anxiously between the two men as you wait for the elevator to go down. Both of them are having a conversation, or at least something like that. Unfortunately for you, you’re already so wound up that if you look up or try to tune into their words, you fear you’d only be digging your grave. Lucky for you, your room happens to be quite close to the elevators.

The minute the elevator dings, you are two steps ahead of the men, unable to keep up the facade that everything is totally normal and you totally aren’t turned on by the two men who were by your side. It felt like you’d die if you took another second outside of your room. Hastily, you pull out the keycard pressing it against the reader. Behind you, Boothill chuckles, shaking his head as you open the door.

“C’mon sugar, don’t be shy,” Boothill croons, waving you over. Your body moves on its own, or at least, that’s what you want to think. Eagerly walking over and sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Mh, that’s more like it.”

Boothill sits himself up, shuffling behind you. He wastes no time, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your neck. His hands wrap around your waist, grabbing the hem of your shirt and lifting it slowly. He bites down gently, eyes flitting up and meeting Gallagher’s gaze. Your eyes also fall on the man, dropping lower and lower until you’re met with the bulge in his pants. He was clenching and unclenching his fists, watching both you and Boothill’s movements. Some kissing and a little midriff and he’s already hard…? Shit, there could not have been a finer man for this night. You feel your nerves dissipate at man’s own weakness, and Boothill himself picks up on this.

“Fudge, look at you,” He utters, pulling away from your neck. “We invited you here for a reason, yeah? Don’t be afraid to get a piece.”

Once again, you find yourself trapped between the two men. Boothill has his thumbs hooked into the waistband of your pants all too quickly, while Gallagher sits on his heels and watches, palming his cock through his boxers. He lets out a satisfied groan as he does so, simply watching you through hooded eyes. You lift your hips a little, allowing Boothill to pull your pants down all the way. Once off, he chucks them somewhere in the room, hands sliding past the waistband of your underwear. While his fingers drift closer to your pussy, he keeps eye contact with Gallagher, gaze sly and lascivious. Gallagher himself leans in as Boothill leans past your shoulder, and the two share a lewd kiss. Before you can ogle, Boothill’s fingers find your clit, rubbing slow half-circles around it. You jolt a little, before resting your head against Gallagher’s shoulder, letting out a soft ‘mmh..’ in response.

 A rumble vibrates through Gallagher’s chest at this, pulling away from Boothill. A line of spittle keeps them connected for only a moment, before breaking. He looks down at you with yet another sleazy grin, hand coming up and cupping the back of your head as Boothill’s fingers dared to dip lower, pressing against your entrance but not quite entering.

Gallagher’s fingers thread through your hair, oddly soothing as Boothill teases you. Gallagher’s other hand came down to his boxers, sliding them down. You can’t help but stare, watching as his cock springs free, a pearly white bead of precum glistening at the tip, which was flushed. You reach for it, but he catches you, shaking his head.

“Feeling like something else,” He purrs, eyes watching the way Boothill’s fingers worked in your underwear. Gallagher pulls his boxers all the way down, leaning back and propping himself up by the pillows.

You are more than happy to oblige, looking back at Boothill, to make sure he was still onboard. He nods and moves back, pulling his hand away from you, allowing you to position yourself. Replacing his hands, you take off your underwear, throwing them somewhere else within the room. Without hesitation, you push yourself further up, caging in Gallagher’s legs with your own. Readjusting yourself, you hover just above his cock.

Now, you can’t remember a time you took someone’s cock, seeing as Boothill didn’t have one. You didn’t mind, if you were missing the appendage, you could always work with a dildo. And regardless, you quite enjoyed how skilled Boothill was with his fingers and his mouth. But damn, looking down at Gallagher’s dick, hard and twitching, with the borderline sinful way he was looking up at you, waiting, perhaps there was a moment where you missed something like this… perhaps you’d have to have a nice little conversation with Boothill eventually.

Speaking of, his hands find their way back on your hips, as if to help position you. He doesn’t wanna miss a moment of this, not one second. “Go on darlin’,” He mutters, resting his head on your shoulder.

With that, you lower yourself, slowly. Taking in the tip, you can’t help but roll your head back. It’s thick, not too thick, but it’s something you can’t say you’ve felt in quite a bit. Gallagher himself groans, one large calloused hand finding home on your thigh, squeezing. With your neck bared, Boothill can’t help but pepper it with fleeting, ticklish kisses, satisfied hums following shortly after. He coaxes you to push down further, and you do. The stretch is delicious, causing your thighs to twitch a little.

“Fuuck…” You groan, placing your hand on Gallagher’s chest. You clench around him, biting your lip. You rock your hips forward just a little, to allow yourself to take in a little more of him, feeling insatiable.

“Just like that,” The man beneath you groans, taking in a sharp breath. He can’t help but buck his hips up, all too eager to get all of you.

Your nails dig into his chest as he does so, mewling softly. A couple more seconds and you're fully seated on his cock, already a sweaty, weak, pathetic mess above him. He places his other hand on your other thigh, before sliding both up to your waist, where Boothill’s hands were suddenly absent – a detail you didn’t notice. Gallagher allows you a moment to adjust, before guiding you up just barely a centimeter, finding it hard not to follow. You comply, weakly pulling yourself up just a bit, only for him to pull you back down. Sparks shoot up your body, causing you to arch further.

It’s a sinful synergy, using the strength in your knees to push yourself up while Gallagher helped you back down. He does it partially because he feels as if he can’t bear for you to leave him an inch untouched. He himself can’t remember the last time he had sex, and he’ll be damned if he lets go that easily.

Behind you, Boothill sits back on his heels. He stares, completely dazed. He isn’t jealous, far from it. The way you fit so well with Gallagher, the way you arch your back, the way you moan so sweetly everytime he pulls you back down– no, with every movement, fuck. It’s killing him. Not to mention the praises slipping past Gallagher’s lips, voice low and rough and just so damn hypnotizing. The way his smile faltered ever so slightly with just how good you were making him feel… he could almost get used to this.

For once, Boothill wished he had a dick. He wished the minute he walked out of the Doctor’s shop that he found someone to hook him up. He was so goddamn horny, it hurt. He didn’t want to be in Gallagher’s position, or yours, he simply wished he could jack off while watching this. The fact that he had absolutely no outlet to expend his desire was suffocating. Still, all he does is watch, mouth dry as your moans increase in pitch, as you trip and stumble over the man’s name.

A fire burns throughout your body now, pressure tightening with each stroke beneath your stomach. You found yourself clenching around Gallagher almost rhythmically, your moans turning into pants. Beneath you he grunts, eyes hazy and half-lidded with desire. He gave up on pulling you back down, choosing to simply thrust his hips up while you stayed in place and took it.

The sound of skin meeting skin, a hollow yet wet sound, echoed throughout the room. It was music to Boothill’s ears, causing him to whine softly and lean his head back. He was light-headed, mind hazy and fuzzy as he tried to not think of just how badly he wanted to cum right now. Fuck, he wanted to cum, he wanted to cum so bad, so fucking bad–

Just as he thinks that, a guttural groan tears from Gallagher’s throat, as he throws his head back and his hips stutter up. His fingers dig into your waist, his grip tightening to the point where it starts to hurt. His chest rises and falls rapidly, heaving heavily as he spills his load inside you. His thighs tense as he can’t help but push further up, like he needed more. His half-thrusts turn into semi-half-thrusts, short-lived and reckless. After another moment, you follow suit, that tight coil snapping, warmth blooming from your stomach and spreading through your veins. Your hips jerk backwards just once as you feel as if you can’t get enough air in, returning Gallagher’s grip on your hips in kind, raking your fingers down the fabric of his shirt.

After the initial buzz dies from your minds, you look down at Gallagher, who has propped his upper body up by his elbows. Rather than looking at you however, he’s looking behind you, at Boothill. Fuck, when did he pull away? When you turn to look at the man, he looks absolutely… astounded. His face is bright red, and he’s almost drooling. You swear you can see stars in his eyes.

“Ah, Boots…?” You call out cautiously, unsure if you want a reaction. Last thing you want is him short circuiting, but at the same time, you just let a stranger cum in you. At your words, however, he perks up.

“Y-Yeah, sugar? Doll? I– Yeah?” He speaks as if he was the one who just came.

“Here–” Gallagher grunts, lifting you up a little. You get the hint, pulling yourself off. You can’t help but shudder at the last tastes of friction, before sitting back with your legs spread.

Boothill’s eyes immediately zone in on your pussy, drooling with a mixture of yours and Gallagher’s cum. “Was it– did you– I mean, oh, fudge, darlin’ –”

Despite the fact that it is a rather lewd display, and the fact that it felt as if you were still coming down from your high, you couldn’t help but lean back a little, your confused expression morphing into one much more scandalous.

“Wanna clean me up?” You croon, tilting your head just the right amount to let your hair fall in front of your face.

Boothill nods eagerly, completely ignoring Gallagher for now; who was sliding off the bed and reaching for his pants and belt. Boothill practically scrambles into position, grabbing your thighs and pulling you closer towards him, causing you to yelp and fall onto your back. He hoists your thighs up over his shoulders, quickly licking a fat stripe up your slit. Your hands fly to his hair, petting through it for a moment. He groans softly, eyes fluttering shut as he laps at the liquid between your legs. He’s all but devoured what was left of your spend, so quickly that it felt too quick. Not that you were disappointed, he made sure there was nothing left. A few more licks, followed by a gentle, almost reverent kiss to your clit, and he was done. He pulled back with a satisfied shine in his eyes, yet refused to sit up.

For a second, you look back up at Gallagher, who was standing by the doorway, sliding his belt into place. He himself seemed satisfied, but clearly had no desire to stay for long. Boothill, too stubborn to move from his favorite pillows, practically cuddled up to them, one hand reaching around to trace all the stretchmarks there. Gallagher afforded you two the decency of slipping out of the room through barely wide enough crack in the door, leaving you with a small wave of his hand as a ‘goodbye’.

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[1dcommunityficrecs]

Rec List: Letter Writing Fics!

There's something so romantic about writing letters -- even when they aren't love letters! The idea of taking the time and effort to put pen to paper, to share your thoughts and feelings with someone else, to drop them into a mailbox and wait (im)patiently for their response... poetry. Even with modern emails -- they may not inherently be quite as dreamy, but you can still capture a lot of the same energy and vulnerability and connection.

Here are ten fics focusing on written communication, mostly physical letters but some diaries or online communication as well. We've got a lot of historical stories, a lot of long-distance, and SO much pining. Read, kudos, comment, reblog, follow, subscribe -- and get ready for the next category!

Just for Tonight (I can be yours) by SadaVeniren/@sadaveniren (42495, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

Omega Prince Harry writes letters to Prince Ludwig to whom he'd been promised to marry since birth, while he gets to know Louis, a simple worker from the neighbouring kingdom. The same, he's supposed to marry the prince of for a truce

Reccer says: the double/secret identity always gets me. also they building of their relationship while also trying to keep key parts of them hidden

Just Another Card Again by tippitytap/@tippitytap (3775, General, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Dear reader, this is a story of Harry and Louis falling in love through greeting cards and being neighbours. With love, Clifford

Reccer says: So so cute and the links to the cards are such a nice touch.

Dirty Diana by yeah_alright/@uhoh-but-yeah-alright (3042, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

Harry writes to his confidante Diana every day for a month about all his Louis fantasies.

Reccer says: Really creative, hot, and so funny! Filled with smutty ideas but the tone is light and fun - such a great combo! The juxtaposition of Harry's dirty thoughts and his sweet way of communicating with Diana made me giggle throughout the fic

adjudication by barchive/@bottomlinsons (75000, Teen, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Harry has fallen for his betrothed through letters she written him over the years, but when he finally arrives to marry her, he learns things aren't what he has believed

Reccer says: It's so well crafted. The plotting and pacing are excellent and the use of miscommunication is really well done. Plus there's some very swoonworthy scenes!

all the sins you didn’t have by Brooklyn_Babylon/@twopoppies (99522, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post Warnings: A sexual assault, not going all the way

It’s 1880, and premier danseur Harry Styles is running out of time. At twenty-five, he’s fast becoming too old for the lecherous benefactors who frequent The Paris Opera Ballet’s infamous backstage, and the only way to ensure he isn’t left penniless or rotting away in a brothel is to secure a permanent patron. Enter Lord Louis Tomlinson: wealthy, young, handsome. And, unfortunately, a notorious rake.

Reccer says: Everything is amazing -- the theme, the location, the era, the atmosphere. And it’s wonderfully written. I love the gorgeous sensory details, and how the author uses those to cast light on the characters’ hidden emotions.

No One Like You by my own spark/@myownsparknow (19932, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

Where Liam and Niall are art historians discovering the truth about two nineteenth century painters on opposite sides of an artistic divide.

Reccer says: I love the nerdy art-historical discoveries!

Blue Moon by Aquietlarrie/@aquietlarrie (152907, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

it’s the late 50’s. times are ‘simple’. rock n roll is in full swing. vinyl, music and dancing are the primary ways of entertaining yourself, and in a time where loving someone of the same sex is illegal, two strangers catch each other’s eyes across a dancefloor and do just that. over the span of a year and in between two cities, harry and louis happen to find each other at just the right time.

Reccer says: I thought this was SO well-researched—the 50s vibes are immaculate.

Lonely Cards Club by Hellolovers13/@hellolovers13 (25837, Teen, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson ) – fic post

Harry's life in Cardiff is rather uneventful. Until he receives a strange Christmas postcard. It gets even stranger when he finds another one the next day. 💌

Reccer says: This fic is so sweet! Just the perfect bit of gentle cheer, love, and mystery.

miles away from seeing you by LiveLaughLoveLarry/@loveislarryislove (1700, Teen, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Harry is studying abroad in New Zealand, but he keeps in close communication with his long-term boyfriend back in England.

Reccer says: This fic is told entirely through social media posts, texts, emails, etc, which is a super cool medium! It's very sweet feeling their connection from so far apart.

Dearest Gemma (I fell in love) by Thingsicant (1300, General, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Harry writes his sister letters as he meets, falls in love with, and courts a handsome blacksmith.

Reccer says: Harry's ups and downs of emotion make me laugh, and the surprise Louis has been working on is so sweet.

[evans23]

Falling

Pairing : Hans Gruber x Reader OC

Summary : In the remanence of winter, Hans makes an unexpected encounter, which will bring a bit of peace in his chaotic life. Unfortunately, there is no happy ending for a man like him. 

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : Smut. Angst. No happy ending here.

A/N : Enjoy dear reader 😁

Part II

Also read on AO3

It was a chilly afternoon in the middle of Spring in Kensington Park. It was your favorite park, even though you didn't really know why. After all, according to your parents, all the parks in London looked the same, but you disagreed with this assumption.

Also, you were slightly biased as you worked as a saleswoman in the little shop adjacent to the palace. You didn't like your job, but you loved the castle and its history. In fact, your dream was just in front of the park, in the form of a school called Royal College of Art. Unfortunately, after having got your A-level, you didn't succeed in getting a scholarship and your parents were unable to finance your study. Therefore, you started to work for a local McDonald's, and then, you found yourself lucky to get a job in the souvenir shop of the castle, thanks to a relative who ceaselessly reminded you what you owed him as the job was well-paid and not as tedious as your previous one. More than often, the customers, tourists for most of them, were far more agreeable than the ones who frequented the fast food, and you didn't stink of the greasy fries each night when you came back to your cramped apartment.

Also, the uniform was more comfortable and flattering than the horrendous one you had to wear and you could let your curly hair hang down your back without being reprimanded by your boss who was afraid of seeing one of your unruly hairs in the middle of a bag of fries. On the other hand, what should have been temporary had become permanent and while all you're friends were breezing through their plan life, you struggled to keep your own life on track.

That day, you had finished your shift in the early afternoon and as you weren't ready to face the loneliness of your life, all alone in your small apartment with a too expensive rent for so few rooms, you had decided, despite the coldness, to sit on a bench in the Walk of Flower to read one of your favorite book: "Notre Dame de Paris" from Victor Hugo.

You didn't notice the stranger who sat on the bench next to yours. You were too engrossed in your book for that and anyway, the park was well frequented by many people, locals, residents, or tourists for you to really notice them. 

However, there weren't too many tourists at this time of the year. It was still too cold and rainy. It will change in less than one month. The park, the street, and the castle would be crowded for six months or more until the winter settled anew, a welcomed calmness around the venue but also in the busyness of your work.

During the summer, you didn't have any time for your hobbies as it was busy as it get at each hour of each day. You often worked more than eight hours a day as you were always willing to help your overworked colleagues either in the shop, the little coffee, or at the reception, diligently searching the bags with your little flashlight, looking for anything suspicious or sharp.

“Love is like a tree: it grows by itself, roots itself deeply in our being, and continues to flourish over a heart in ruin,” said the stranger in a thunderous voice and with a perfect French if it hadn’t been for his slight accent.

Startled, you looked up at him. He was tall, his broad shoulders and his black hair adding something quite intimidating to his natural charisma. He also had a hooked nose which was nothing short of engrossing.

"I apologize," he said, now speaking in English, "it wasn't my intention to frighten you..." 

"[Y/N]," you said, your voice shaking a little bit.

He chuckled at that. He knew what effect he had on women.

“Nice to meet you, [Y/N]. I am Hans.”

He didn't know why he had given you his real name. Not that he was hiding in London. Actually, he owned a humongous and beautiful property only 30 minutes by car from the park. It was a secure place where he came after a rough mission or when he needed to vanish into thin air for his own sake.

“You're not from here,” you said, having recognized a foreign accent.

“Indeed,” said Hans who got up.

You looked at him from your bench. He was more intimidating up in front of you than before.

“May I?” he asked, gesturing towards the bench where you were comfortably settled.

“Of course,” you answered, moving your bag to make room for him.

“So, you read in French,” he said as a matter of fact.

“I don’t understand everything,” you admitted.

"I believe so, Victor Hugo is a convoluted author, even for a native speaker."

“And where are you from?” you insisted, wanting to know where this delicious accent came from.

He chuckled at your persistence, yet he told you he was from Germany. Hans was able to imitate the British accent perfectly, but he hadn't felt the need to deceive you. You looked quite innocent, and you were. Anyway, how could you have guessed you were talking with a thief, a mobster, a criminal ?

He talked with you the whole afternoon. You understood very quickly that he was an educated man, with a lot of culture and a perspicacity you could envy him for.

As you parted, he kissed the back of your hand like a true gentleman, the one in your romantic books. You didn't know what had got into you to confide so many private things about yourself to a stranger, but talking to him was easy, and there was so much on your heart that you needed to confide. Maybe because you knew he was just a stranger that you would never see again had made things easier. You felt lighter but also disappointed to know that you would never see him again.

But Hans wasn't indifferent to you either. Hans was intrigued by you. He had already noticed you a few days before when you were walking in the streets to reach the metro station. You were wearing your work uniform, that's how he knew that to find you, he had to go for a walk around Kensington Park.

Hans didn't really know what had caught his attention about you. Your face was certainly pleasant to look at but it didn't stand out from the crowd, your stiff gait spoke volumes about the pressure you felt in your life and you had a disillusioned pout that probably didn't make many people want to get to know you.

However, there was something about you that had intrigued him. Enough to want to meet you at least once. He hadn't expected to see you sitting all alone in the Walk of Flowers. Walkers rarely sat for too long, the cold quickly numbing their hands and feet. And yet, there you were, reading your book, a book that Hans had read many times in its original version too.

He had been surprised at how easy it was to talk to you. You were intelligent, not as much as he was, but not everyone could come up with escape plans and high-flying heists, you had wit and a dry sense of humor that he appreciated. You also had that disillusioned look of those who had already seen too much to still be truly surprised by existence. Hans knew this expression well for having experienced it himself. 

It was a long time ago when he was a teenager dragged from home to home, separated from his brother, missing a father who died when he was only eight years old, and a loving mother. Their mother to Simon and him was an alcoholic who beat them for yes or no. It was often his big brother who suffered their mother's anger because he was not afraid to defy her or to come between her and his little brother. He remembered a day when his mother who had drunk more than reason and had just been dumped by her umpteenth boyfriend had destroyed the model airplane he was building for no good reason other than to make her son suffer as much as she suffered. She had raised her hand to hit him, but Simon had stepped between him and her, taking the slap instead of Hans.

Hans shook his head as if to make all those bad memories go away. It was a long time ago. When he was just a weak little boy. It was before the army that he had met an important man who was a member of German high society. Thanks to him, after his military service, he had been able to join the university where he had received a solid education in history, foreign languages, economics, and politics. Hans was intelligent and able to absorb thousands of pieces of information in no time. His eidetic memory was a real gift that had allowed him to join the Volksfrei where he had definitely hardened himself. So hardened that his ruthless behavior had earned him being kicked out of the organization.

He had worked as a mercenary for a while after that, but tired of having to answer to other people's orders, Hans had decided to become his own boss by carrying out his own terrorist activities with a group of trusted men in his pay. It had been a long time since the weak little boy had disappeared in favor of the man he was today.

And yet, your presence this afternoon had awakened something vulnerable in him. He wanted to see you again. He was going to see you again. He was going to make you his, whether you wanted it or not.

He thought about it, developing a plan to make you fall into his nets. He wanted to be subtle to give you the impression that you had had a choice. Little did he know that you were already partially won over to his cause. Indeed, the man with the imposing stature, the broad shoulders, and the nose of a Greek god had not left you indifferent.

He returned to Kensington Park two days later, waiting for your service to end. He watched you from afar to see you following the same path as last time to join the Walk of Flowers where you sat on the same bench as last time, another book in your hands.

"Did Victor Hugo get the better of your determination?" he asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

You jumped, which made him chuckle.

"Hans," you said, a hand on your chest, "you scared me."

"Sorry, that wasn't my intention."

He sat down next to you without asking your permission, not that you minded.

"So, Victor Hugo?"

"Finished last night."

Hans arched an eyebrow, surprised. You had finished one of the most difficult books in French literature in two days and after admitting that you didn't always understand the formal language of the book.

"Test me if you don't believe me," you had challenged him when you saw the doubt etched on his features.

He didn't need to be asked twice and had to admit that you had read the book, which make you be more surprising and impressive than he thought you were at first glance.

This little game of cat and mouse had lasted several months. Hans could afford it, his last heist, the robbery of a Russian bank, had earned him enough to live on for the next ten years. Of course, he wouldn't sit idly by for the next ten years. He wanted more. Much more. Millions to be able to disappear forever and live the great life he had always dreamed of. Except that now, he wanted you to be part of his dream.

However, how could he involve you in his life without putting you in danger ? And how could you never find out who he really was ?

Some of his men had a woman in their life. One of them was even married and had a child, but was it really a life to have to hide who you really are from the person who shared your bed ?

Of course, Hans had had many women in his arms, but never a woman he wanted to spend more than one night with.

Six months after your first meeting, he had invited you to his secluded house. A large mansion that could have contained your apartment, your parent's house, and your big sister's house all in one. Hans had cooked for you and charmed you a little more with his words that flowed like honey in your ears and his German accent that made you shiver constantly.

A year later, you were an official couple, much to Hans's delight, who for once in his life hadn't had to fight too hard to get what he really wanted. And God may be his witness, he wanted you, loved you and he would never let you go. You lived at his place and while he didn't hide the fact that he was a rich man, you didn't really know where the money came from.

Officially, he had introduced himself as a businessman. But you knew that something wasn't right in what he had told you. The designer clothes he lavished you with and the one he wore every day, the jewelry he showered you with at every opportunity, the luxury cars and the incessant business trips, something didn't add up to what he was telling you.

Yet, he was a passionate lover and even if you had already seen his bad temper surface when something displeased him, with you he was nothing but tenderness and patience. A trait that no one would have granted to Hans. He himself was amazed at how much he could be another man with you. You brought a calm to his life that he had ignored he had needed until now. You were the calm in his tumultuous life as a gangster.

You had tried to question him several times, but each time, he had turned you down, sometimes harshly and you had ended up understanding that what he did for a living was a subject not to be discussed. You were not totally stupid and even if you didn't know exactly what he did to earn all this money with which he flooded you, you assumed that he must be part of the mafia. Or something like that. Something that should have made you run away, but you were already too much in love with Hans, too captivated by his mysterious aura and the danger that surrounded him to be afraid of sharing your life with a mafioso.

The fact that with you, Hans allowed himself to be softer, and more vulnerable, only made him more endearing. Your parents didn't approve of the relationship between you, your mother having immediately had doubts about Hans' intentions. But neither he nor you gave any importance to what others might think. You wanted him more than you had ever wanted anything else in your life, more than you had wanted to study at a prestigious art school or become the next greatest painter in the United Kingdom. You were hopelessly in love with the mysterious German man who had captured your heart and soul.

Although Hans was less demonstrative in his feelings, he felt the same way about you. You were the calm, the peace, in his hectic life. He found solace in your simple presence. Many times he had told himself that he had to end this union, that he had to push you away, but each time he had tried to do so by being cold and distant with you, your confusion and incomprehension at his sudden coldness towards you had made his heart melting and he had always come back more in love and tender than before, doing his best to be forgiven for his harsh behavior towards you during the day with a crazy and passionate night of love.

Hans wasn't naive, he knew that if he wanted to build something serious with you, he would have to put an end to his activities and disappear with you. At some point, he would have to confess the truth to you even if he was well aware of your suspicions and how close you were to the truth.

It was on September that he had a brilliant idea. An idea that would earn him millions. Enough to ensure a comfortable life for both of you in Fiji or anywhere that would please you. He was going to attack the CEO of Nakatomi Tower. A high-flying theft worth more than $600 million if he and his men played their game well.

But it was not going to be easy and his sharp mind had to prepare the best of plans. He had already worked out dangerous, complicated, risky cases, but this one was the most important of his entire gangster career. When a man steals $600, he can just disappear, but when a man steals $600 million, he knew that the police and secret agencies of the whole world will be after him. Unless they thought he was dead. However, he was no longer alone now and he had to think of you, which made the whole organization of his plan more difficult than usual, even for a gifted person like him.

His brother had warned him that getting emotionally involved with you was dangerous for him, but he had not listened to him, sure of himself as usual. Except that for once, Simon was right. The love he had for you was worse than all the enemies he had faced so far.

"Another departure Hans ? You've already disappeared all of October," you said wearily.

It was the first week of December and he had just told you that he would have to be away until the end of December on business trip.

"Work is work. You're happy to have nice clothes, to parade around in beautiful jewelry, to wear designer perfume, and to live a life of luxury. Without me, you would never have been able to quit this job that made you unhappy and to treat yourself to these art classes that you wanted so much," he pointed out more harshly than he had intended.

But he was tired of your reproaches. It had been the same for a few months every time he had to leave. It was stronger than you. You wanted to know the truth, a truth that he refused to tell you and it hurt you. Yet, you loved him too much to have the courage to leave him.

"If you think I'm with you for the money, then you don't know me very well Hans. Keep your clothes and your jewelry. I never asked you for anything! If you did it, it's because you wanted to!"

"Exactly! The best for you is everything I want and nothing else. We've been together for two years, you're an intelligent woman [Y/N], and you know that this life that I allow you to lead doesn't come without sacrifice."

You didn't answer because somewhere, somewhat, you knew he was right and even though you were frustrated by his unspoken words, you loved enjoying the life of luxury he was lavishing you with.

You sighed, closing your eyes and rubbing your forehead, feeling a headache coming on. Hans came closer and took your hands in one of his while the other gently massaged your lower back.

"Mein leibe, I promise you that after that everything will change."

"How?"

"You'll see. In the meantime, don't give me the cold shoulder. I don't want to go to the United States knowing that mein pearl is mad at me. I won't be able to concentrate if I know that you're angry with me," he coaxed you.

"I'm not angry Hans, I'm just... worried and... I'd like you to be completely honest with me."

"Mein leibe..." Hans sighed, "everything will change, I promise, but no more questions for tonight, okay?"

You nodded, still a little frustrated by his silences that separated you more than they brought you closer. Sensing the distance that your disappointment was putting between you, Hans placed a series of kisses along the back of your neck.

"Bitte, mein leibe, bitte, don't be angry with me."

"Hans..."

"Bitte," he whispered in your ear.

You turned your head and he took the opportunity to capture your lips. Very quickly, your kiss turned into a fiery passion. He hoisted you easily and you instinctively hooked your arms around his hips. He led you to the bedroom where he gently laid you down on the bed.

"You can't always get away with a quickie, even if sex with you is better than a pizza from Rudy's," you said jokingly.

"Mein leibe, I'm sure that my cock inside your tight pussy is the best way to have you under my control," Hans whispered with a predatory smile.

You gasped and your breath got caught in your throat. Hans's smile widened even more and with an expert gesture, he removed your t-shirt. You weren't wearing a bra to his great pleasure and he immediately went in search of your chest to suck on one of your nipples. You moaned in pleasure, your hands running under his t-shirt to caress his firm chest.

"Tell me you want me," Hans whispered.

"Hans..." you moaned under his caresses.

"Say it!" he ordered while walking two of his fingers near your entrance, delighting in your pussy swollen with arousal and your wetness that wet his fingers even though they weren't penetrating you.

"I want you, Hans. I need you, I need you inside me," you said breathlessly.

It didn't take much for Hans to help you getting rid of your skirt and stockings. You unbuttoned his pants and he helped you take them off, while with a quick gesture of his hand, he got out of his t-shirt which joined the rest of your clothes on the floor.

He didn't bother with the foreplay, entering you directly. You were already so wet that he had no trouble sinking all the way into your tight pussy, moaning as he felt your walls tighten around his cock.

"Your pussy has been made for me, just for me," he whispered in your ear.

"I only exist for you," you replied, biting his earlobe.

He pushed himself deeper into you, the sound of skin meeting skin with each thrust echoing through the room, mingling with your panting breaths and Hans' deep voice whispering words of love to you in both German and English.

"[Y/N], my lovely [Y/N], if you knew what you're doing to me, you and your tight little pussy... HAAA... [Y/N]," he groaned, making you hornier still.

As you reached your climax, Hans pulled out suddenly, making you hiss at the feeling of his cock being lost in your cunt. With a deft gesture, he turned you around and, your stomach pressed against the bed, he pushed in as hard as he had pulled out of your little cunt, tugging gently on your hair while his other hand was on your throat. He thrust faster, again and again until he felt the two of you approaching your climax. He then turned you to the side with one leg between yours and the other above yours, one hand still on your throat, the other cupping your breasts as he continued to thrust into you at a frantic pace.

"Hans, please, don't stop... I'm gonna... I'm gonna..."

"Come meine leibe... Come, come for me," he whispered in your ear.

It didn't take him more than two thrusts for your orgasm to shake your entire body with pleasure. Feeling your tight walls contract against his cock, Hans was quick to come in turn with an animalistic growl.

He pulled out carefully and you immediately snuggled up against him, finding solace between his arms, basking in the afterglow of your encounter. You quickly fell asleep, exhausted by the passion shared with Hans who stayed awake almost all night watching you while caressing your nipples with his fingertips, taking pleasure in seeing them harden under his caresses.

The next day, you woke up alone with a note on Hans' pillow.

Ich leibe dich. Hans.

Three weeks later

You were in front of the TV watching the Nakatomi Tower attack, tears flooding your eyes when you recognized Hans. In the end, he was not a mafia boss but a gang leader, a gangster, a thief, a criminal. And despite this revelation, your love for him didn't weaken.

You couldn't help but scream when the roof of the tower exploded, leaving the building on fire, and when the journalists announced that all the hostages had gone and the terrorists were out of control by a hothead working for the police. Later, the man named John McClane told reporters that Hans had fallen to his death from the top of Nakatomi Tower.

You fell to the ground screaming before curling up into a ball, sobbing and screaming Hans' name until you fell asleep. The next day, a man came to your house. He introduced himself as Simon and claimed to be Hans' brother. You knew your lover had a brother but he had never told you anything more about him. However, something about this man inspired confidence in you. The same confidence you had had in Hans. He returned the next day with a man with a gaunt and severe face, a lawyer who had papers for you to sign. Hans, afraid of not getting out of this, had prepared everything to ensure your future without him. Considerate, he had left you a fortune that could have benefited you for your next three lives. Except you didn't want a single one of these lives if Hans wasn't by your side.

A year later

Wrapped in a thick coat, a woolen scarf eating your face, you stood in front of a headstone, in the middle of a small, poorly maintained cemetery, in the town with the unpronounceable name of Schkeuditz.

It had taken you a while to make up your mind and come say a last goodbye to him, but the closer the anniversary of his death had got, the more you needed to be close to him, even if he had left you a gift that would allow you to keep him by your side forever and ever.

There was only a first and a last name on the grave. Hans Gruber. No words in his memory, no flowers. Just an unfortunate headstone in the middle of a thousand others. A name among many others, a name that no one would remember in a few years. No one except you, until your own death relieved you of the pain of losing your great love. You would never be able to get over Hans' death, you would never be able to love as you had loved him and you knew that no man would ever be able to offer you what Hans had offered you. You didn't think about the money and the luxurious life you continued to lead thanks to his thoughtfulness, but about his charismatic presence, the strength he gave you with just a look and the unyielding love you shared. The intimate moments that had made you closer than ever and how, even when you had tragically learned who he really was, you had loved him even more.

"[Y/N]," a baritone voice said.

You turned to acknowledge Simon's presence.

"You shouldn't come here."

"It's been a year today. A year since he... Nakatomi Tower... A year," you said, crying.

"I know. But coming here to mope won't bring him back."

"I know," you said through a sob.

"You're not supposed to be associated with him. Ever. Not now that a part of him is alive."

"No one knows he's his," you pointed out right away.

"And no one must ever know. Go home, [Y/N], grieve as much as you need, then start a new life, forget what you went through with Hans, pretend he never existed, and never come back here," Simon said coldly.

You knew Simon was saying that to protect you and the precious passenger waiting for you in the back seat of the car you'd rented to drive here.

"Go get to him before he wakes up and sees you're not here. I don't want my nephew crying. It's Christmas, and on Christmas, he should be the happiest little boy in the world."

You nodded and walked away, but not before kissing the tips of your fingers that you then placed on Hans' grave.

You got into the car and turned to the back seat, smiling fondly, though your smile didn't reach your eyes.

"I promise to be strong for both of us," you whispered so as not to wake the child who was fast asleep in his car seat.

Your heart was broken by the death of the man you had loved more than life itself, but as a testament to your love, he had left you with a good reason to live and fight. An eternal love that would live forever in the heart of your son. His son. Your son.

[manias-wordcount]

Lost and Found (William James Moriarty)

Kinktober 2023 Day Seven: Body Worship

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

“Hello…it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

  Deep down inside, there’s a part of you that is trying to convince the rest of you that the man before you is familiar. 

  “Do you perhaps…remember me, my dear?”

  More so than just another nobleman you would pass by on the street. But the night is cold and faces and shapes and colors tend to blur in the rain. You have seen many of men walking along these streets. And very rarely do they pay attention to you aside from the occasional drunken pass and snide remark. So it would only make sense that the first noble that went out of his way to touch you- that willingly grabbed your wrist- would feel a least a little bit striking to the memory. It would also make sense that this same nobleman would start telling you lies and stories about how he knew you from long, long ago. Before he had lost you. It would make perfect sense. Perfect sense. Yet it doesn’t.

  Because somehow this encounter has led to you sitting in a dark room in his residency as he kneels in front of you and whispers sweet praises into your skin. 

  You’re a fool to let a stranger convince you. You’re a fool to trust a nobleman as well. But when a man with striking red eyes holds your hand so gently and says your name so quietly, it’s hard to find it in yourself to say no as he offers you a place to escape this cruel, rainy night. There would be no one around to save you if something went wrong. There would be no one around to care about you if you went missing. Yet you still took his arm when he offered it to you. You still fell step in step with him as he pulled you into his side and walked you down a few dark streets. Ones that you were unfamiliar with. Ones that made you feel as though you didn’t belong here. That you didn’t belong anywhere. 

  And yet, he still opened the door to his residency for you, like you were a gentlewoman- deserving of his kindness. He still ushered you with promises of a nice cup of tea and a spot in front of a warm fire- like you were truly an old friend. And he helped you strip out of your soaking wet outer layers before removing his own hat and coat with the absolute softest look in his crimson eyes- like you were his to nurture. His to care for. His to protect. 

  You grew very silent after that. The stranger noticed but he didn’t address it. Instead, he just directed you to the sitting room with a hand placed on the small of your back. He touches you often. You recognized that the very first moment you had run into him. You notice it even more now that he has just helped you settle into a chair with hands that seemed to linger a little too long on your waist. And even as he parted from you to get the nearly dead fire ignited for you now, you can still recall all the guiding little touches and holds you received in just the few moments you’ve known this man. 

  And yet, you aren’t afraid. You’re just lost. 

  So, so very lost.

  He knows this though. The stranger- the man who claims to know you- he knows this. You can see it in his expression when he turned back to you. You can see it up close as he walks towards you with another gentle smile on his face. It’s so peaceful. So disarming. You’re still a little cold. Your tights are a bit soaked. Your boots are full of water. And your dress still clings to your skin. But when he looks at you like that? When he looks at you like you’re worth his time.

  It makes it very hard to say no to him. Very, very hard.

“Forgive me,” He requested to you in a quiet murmur as he got down on the floor in front of you and reached his hands towards your boots. The second his long, pale fingers brush against your boots. you draw back in instinctive surprise. But the man is quick to reach out and grab at one of your legs before you can escape him. Though for a second afterward, all is quiet. All is still. The stranger in front of you’s face has taken a bit of an alarmed expression.  Almost as if he surprised himself with his own actions. But then his eyes casts down and a bitter smile grows upon your face. “But I can hardly contain my excitement now that you’re here. Louis would be most pleased to see you again.”

  He begins to tie your boots. Before you can even question him. Before you even can ask what he means. He pulls at the strings, and he loosens them more and more and more until finally- your shoe is able to slip off. He’s slow as he moves. He’s graceful. Letting his long, blonde hair hang over his face. Letting his pale, beautiful skin reach for you and touch the items that you just own. Your commoner items.

  Your face warms.

  You feel embarrassed. You feel ashamed. You’re far too beneath this man to be sitting her like this. Sinking into this plush, comfortable chair that you know is expensive enough all the food you could ever need to fill your starving little stomach. It’s so soft beneath you. Just like his fingers are just gentle as they close around your shoe and pull it off slowly- inch by inch until finally, it falls free with a dull clump. All for him to turn his head and direct his attention to your other shoe. All for him to turn his head and to follow the same routine. Like you’re deserving of it. Like you’re deserving of anything at all.

  And when all is said and done? When both shoes are off and your feet are free from their cold, wet confines. He reaches forward once more. Slowly. Slowly. Slowly. He reaches forward and you draw in your breath and you squeeze your eyes shut. Because this time, you know that there’s very little that he could be reaching for. Because this time, it’s very little reason for his fingers to be stretching out searching for what’s hidden beneath the skirt of your dress. Because this time, you knew what was coming. What was finally coming when you deal with a nobleman like him? Too kind to be honest. Too lovely to be pure. 

  A man is a man is a man. No matter how blue his blood may be.

  So just as you expected, the long pale fingers that had just disappeared beneath your dress have found their way to the very tops of your stockings and pulled down. And just as you expected, the stranger seemed very pleased with your quiet willingness as you adjusted your weight and let him strip you of them. Slowly, slowly, slowly they roll down your legs, exposing bare skin to the stranger’s unholy gaze. You bit at your lips. You squeeze your eyes shut. But you do not fight it. You knew it was coming. From the moment you took his hand tonight, you knew. You do not fight it. You do not cry. But you do brace yourself for the inevitable.

  Except, it never came.

  Your mouth parts in surprise at the feeling, but the words that need to come out sit in your throat and they struggle. They struggle and they struggle and they struggle as if words were never yours to begin with. Or perhaps, they struggle because they do were surprised that a man such as he would take such great care to ensure his lips would know every inch of your skin.

  You feel lost. You feel so lost and that he must have lost it. You had never encountered such behavior before. You had never encountered a man so willing to mix with the likes of someone like you. Never. But for some reason, you still don’t protest. For some reason, you still don’t speak. And for some reason?

  He still continues to press his mouth against your skin. 

  You had heard from other girls who were taken to noblemen’s houses on nights like these before. You heard stories of rough, cruel men picking up someone defenseless and cold and wet- someone like you- only to treat them so harshly during such a delicate act of intimacy. All to send them on their way with a little money for their trouble. A little something to keep their secrets.

  But that is not your story. This is not your rough, cruel man. It’s not. Where in those stories did those girls talk about what to do when the nobleman remains on his knees just to kiss the crown of yours? Where in those stories did those girls talk about how to feel when the nobleman starts speaking into your skin words and compliments and praises that are far too gentle, far too kind to be said to you? Oh, where in those stories did those girls talk about handsome young men with expressions so kind as they speak your name as if they truly know you? All to lead you back to their home and dance their fingers across your skin. To tell you how much they missed you. To tell you how much they longed for you. Searched for you. Hoped for your safe return. Where in those stories did the other girls talk about that?

  Nowhere. 

  Because those aren’t your stories. They never were. And you’re a very lucky girl. Very lucky that it took him many hours to strip you bare. Very lucky that it took him many hours to do anything except kiss at whatever piece of your skin he could find. Very lucky that never once told you anything but the words you thought you would never hear from a man like him. Very lucky your night ended up with you being worshipped. Being praised. Being cherished. 

  Being his.

  For now, you are still lost. For now, you are still confused. But the morning sun is just starting to rise. And the nighttime rain is just now finally turning into a spotty drizzle. And this stranger is finally letting his lips wander and brush and place themselves against a spot that is far too private for you to mention by name. But the feeling is far too good for you to wish he was doing anything else.

  And so, you sit there. In a nobleman’s fine, luxurious sitting chair. You sit there and you stay with your legs parted. Mind at ease. Body relaxed. And lips parted. Your body finally dry and warm but oh-so-wet for a much different reason. And your own fingers find themselves more and more comfortable with reaching out and touching- grabbing him now. Gripping at his clothes. Threading your hands through his hair. And calling out a name. The one he told you. The one he gave you. The one he thought would make you remember. As if the two of you truly weren’t strangers. As if the two of you truly did know each other.

  As if the name of the man now called William hadn’t lost its meaning to you when he and his brother had ultimately abandoned you.

  Long, long, long ago.

[wandixx]

I did a thing? It's not big bit I hope you like it.

***

Conner was absolutely exhausted. He and a few other members of the Young Justice team were free when Unknown sent a distress signal, so it was out of the question that they went to help. Really, they just sped to the closest stash with weapons to handle Unknown’s opponents and get to the battlefield.

It quickly escalated into involving various adult members including some from JLD who nearly never answered their calls. All because villains collaborated. ‘Cause, of course, they did. Life couldn’t be nice just this once.

The whole fight was kind of a blur if he was being honest with himself. He of course remembered pain, chaos, frantic attempts to protect everyone, and anger that these so-called ghosts just wouldn’t stay down. He hadn’t completely blacked out. But he had trouble recalling what exactly had happened. Who exactly he fought, who exactly he saved, where he moved, why his knuckles bleed, and why his ribs ached. He wasn’t too concerned. He was made to be a weapon, it happened sometimes. He wasn’t made to remember things.

Anyway, he somehow ended up only a few steps from Unknown who sat on the ground, taking heavy, labored breaths. They were facing the other way, supporting their forehead on their bent knee, face obscured by angle, hood, and long hair. Their heart was beating faster than he ever heard it (it was almost speedster fast and normally it was too slow to be healthy!) while the ever-present buzz from their chest sped so much it sounded almost even. They seemed to tremble. It was concerning, to say the least, so Conner fought his own fatigue and kneeled next to them. He cautiously touched their shoulder but retreated when they winced.

“Do me not doing what you need me to do put anyone in danger?” they rasped anxiously between too-shallow breaths.

“No, I just-”

“Alright, then give me a moment” they wheezed. Conner felt a little out of his depths. He had yet to actually learn how to help people in shock or any other psychological responses to distress. Don’t get him wrong, he was learning, he just wasn’t any good at this. He wished that anyone else was there to console Unknown properly but they were all busy with banishing villains or cleaning up the debris.

“You’re hyperventilating,” he stated instead.

“No shit Sherlock”

“Do you want me to coach you through some breathing exercises so you don’t pass out?”

“Nah”

“Okay”

So he just sat next to Unknown, adult competent hero, listening as they tried to even out their gasps. He saw how their fingers pressed on the meat of their arm. Whatever they were doing seemed counterproductive but he knew better than to interfere. You can’t help a person who doesn’t want it. So, he just kept taking deep, calm breaths, hoping they would follow his lead.

It was weird to console the adult hero but he guessed it happened.

“Okay, maybe a little help?” they whispered, audibly panicking. It came out almost as a squeal. Conner nodded even though they couldn’t see it and got to work. It didn’t take them all that long to collect themselves but even after their breaths had calmed and their heart had slowed down, they didn’t move.

“Do you feel better now?” he asked cautiously.

“Yeah,” their voice still was barely louder than a whisper. Gods bless Conner’s super hearing or else they wouldn’t be able to have this conversation. “Thank you. And sorry, I’m usually better at handling this.”

“It’s okay”

It really was. It wasn’t the first nor probably the last time when hero got overwhelmed by a big fight. It was admirable that Unknown managed to wait with his panic until everything was wrapped up. Even if it was still weird to console an adult. Conner once again tried to put a hand on their shoulder. They didn’t show any indication of discomfort so he didn’t take it back.

Flash stopped in front of them, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.

“You guys alright?” he asked fast like always. Unknown raised their head to look at the older hero and-

Their mask must have fallen off somewhen during the fight.

Oh.

“Yeah, I kinda freaked out for a moment but Superboy helped me get over it.”

Oh.

Unknown wasn’t an adult.

They (he? They kind of looked like boy) couldn’t be older than Conner himself. Maybe even younger than Robin.

They looked weirdly familiar for someone he never saw before.

When none of the heroes answered just staring at them with shock, they curled in themselves a little more and started mumbling.

“I know panic is unprofessional, I promise I’ll do better next time, I usually do, I just really don’t like dragging other people into my fights and kinda spiraled ‘cause of it I-“

“You’re a kid” Flash interrupted, almost choking on his words. Unknown froze, then slowly raised their dirty hand to touch their naked face.

“Oh, no, no, no-” their heartbeat piqued again, as they hastily ran their fingers across their cheeks and forehead and nose and everything else as if they could somehow find their full face mask if they tried hard enough. They were mumbling again.

Conner squeezed their shoulder in what he hoped was a grounding gesture. Where did he see this face?

“Hey, it’s alright kid. We all just assumed you were a little older, that’s it. Nothing bad happened.” Flash tried but his words went unheard. Superboy squeezed their arm again, hoping it would be at least just a little grounding.

Where has Conner seen this face?

“Please don’t give me back to them. I’ll be useful, I promise.” They hadn’t stopped speaking but these specific words struck something in young Kryptonian.

He heard similar words before.

He remembered the white-haired, flying girl who he found pickpocketing some unsuspecting tourists, who later ate burgers with him, sitting on top of one of Metropolis’ skyscrapers, talking in hushed tones about labs and guilt of being created as a weapon. Who did her best to reassure him and herself as well that they were more than they were made for. That they were full people. The girl who knew how it was to be an imperfect copy of someone else.

The girl who had a loving template, who couldn’t take her in because of his living situation but did his best to prepare her, before letting her travel for safety and self-discovery.

The girl loved her template enough to show her fellow clone, who she knew for less than three hours, a photo.

“Danny?” he asked, even though he knew.

The boy fell silent before he choked quick, unfinished:

“How-”

“You’re a little different from a guy Dani told me about”

Danny gasped quiet “oh” and looked at nothing in front of him with a sad, broken smile. The kind of smile people often wore when they thought about mysterious before when life was better and happiness easier. Conner wasn’t old enough to have his own before. For now his before was Cadmus lab and he would rather get beaten up into a pulp than return to this place. But Danny seemed to have before and before he was thinking about was different than his before meaning the completely civilian life that Dani told him about. He seemed to think about a time when he was a hero and had Dani and see it as before. Conner was kind of curious about what changed.

“I was a little different guy back then.”

Unknown, the Wandering Hero

So! We all know the typical Vivisection AU, right? Danny is revealed to his parents and they take it in all the wrong ways. They capture him, Vivisect him, and eventually he manages to escape with the help of his friends.

But what about his Rouges?

Sure, we all like to think of some of the more friendly ones like Ember, or Sydney, or Johnny 13 and Kitty, but he has WAY more Evil Rouges than good ones.

Without Danny there to reign them in, the Rouges spread out across the world to fulfill their obsessions, unhampered by the Heroes and Villains of the world that have no means to fight them.

And Danny? He feels responsible. He was the one to open the Gate, he was the Sacrifice, the one to let them through. And when the going got tough he just up and left? No, that won't do.

His Obsession is Protection for a reason, and nothing has changed. All he needs to do is expand his area of focus a little.

Danny, after healing up, starts wandering the world in search of the Ghosts who have escaped into the Mortal Realm. He battles all of his old foes, as well as many new ones who he hadn't met before.

His travels take him far and wide.

He defeats Skulker in Metropolis, as he is trying to hunt down the Super Family for their pelts. They are the last of their race after all, so he is inclined to try and hunt them. Honestly dealing with Skulker was easy, dealing with the Rich Asshole who was funding him was a nightmare.

He chases down Spectra in Gotham as she tries to feed on the misery of an entire City. (Thanks to @impyssadobsessions for the idea, this Prompt specifically). She is actually a very tough fight, especially powered by both the Misery of an Entire City as well as his Own Misery, but he manages.

He defeats Technus is Central City, as he tries to Raid Star Labs for their advanced Tech. It actually took a while to beat him after he amped himself with all that Power, and he did need help from the Local Hero to deal with him. He's just thankful Technus is one of the more "Harmless" ones.

After every Victory, he sends them back to the Realms using the Banishing Spell that Sam taught him a while back (the only bit of magic he ever really managed to master).

He knows they'll eventually find their way back out, but it's all he can do anymore. It's his eternal Punishment for unleashing them out into the World in the first place. He was the Catalyst for this Situation, now he was tasked with Fixing it, no matter how long it took.

...

The Justice League is caught in a tricky situation a the moment.

In the past few months, they have been encountering more and more of these Extra Dimensional Beings known as Realms Ghosts across the World.

Justice League Dark has had some success in battling them, but even they are getting tired of having to deal with every single incident alone.

They did get approached by a Government Agency known as the Ghostly Investigation Ward that seemed to want to help, but it didn't take long to realize that their main Aim was to Genocide the entire Race. The JLA had quickly cut ties after realizing that, and took what little Tech and Information they had been able to gather.

Still, it wasn't easy to deal with these Entities.

Thankfully, they have had some outside help. An Unknown Being has been routinely showing up whenever a Realms Ghost appears and defeating them, before using a (as described by Constantine) "Rudimentary Banishing Spell held together by willpower and luck" to send them back to their home Dimension. There's honestly no way it should be functional, but he did make it work either way.

They don't know much about this Unknown, aside from the fact that he seems to be the only one able to consistently damage the Realms Ghosts. His Powerset leads them to belive he may be from the same Dimension, or at least drawing his power from the same Source, but as he actively avoids the League and takes every opportunity to not talk to them, they know they aren't getting any answers any time soon.

Over the past few months, they had affectionately started referring to him as Unknown, creative they know, because they could never get his Real Name. Sure, some of the Realms Ghosts seemed to recognize him, but they always called him stuff like "Whelp" and "Punk" and "Usurper", which were not very good names to use when referring to him. Although the last one was a bit concerning.

They had only managed to trade a few quick words with Unknown in the past few months, but it was enough to get the Gist of it. He was just doing his job, sending the Realms Ghosts back where they belonged. There was apparently a Tear in Reality letting them through, but he seemed hesitant to reveal what he knew about it.

After a few months of sparse interactions, they eventually managed to convince him to at least take an Emergency Communicator. Just in case. They even let him take it apart to look for any Tracking Devices, which earned them a small bit of trust. They took whatever wins they could.

Fortunately, it seemed he never did need it. In fact he was getting more and more efficient with every battle, defeating his foes in half the time it would have taken before.

Unfortunately, it didn't last forever. One day, the Communicator went off, a distorted voice quickly saying, "Need backup, some of them decide to Team Up" before cutting out.

They quickly rushed to his location, finding an active battlefield with no less that a dozen Ghosts battling Unknown. And he seemed to be on the ropes.

With their arrival, the combined force of the Justice League and Unknown eventually managed to defeat the Group of Ghosts. Justice League Dark volunteered to work on the Banishing Spells while the others cleaned up the damage from the Battle.

One of them approached Unknown to make sure he was ok, and froze.

During the battle, Unknown's Mask had been Torn off, and they could finally see the face of the Hero they had been working with for the past few months.

And he was a Child.

[thatfreshi]

OKAY OKAY LET ME COOK TAV HAS AN ABUSIVE EX LOVER AND ASTARION AND TAV RUN INTO THEM

We're all just trying to cook out here, let us cook!

TW - run-in with abusive ex, bf and ex get into a fight

Recommended Song: I Didn't Change My Number - Billie Eilish

Evening walks, humidity in the air from the day's rain, hands intertwined. You can't ask for much more. While you and Astarion enjoy a good party-filled night, it's nice to simply observe the bustle of dusk, lovers just now finding each other in alleyways, ridiculous drunken fights. It's fun, making little comments about the surrounding chaos, Astarion mostly just making fun of people's outfits.

"I mean really, I have never seen such a gaudy scarf in my life, and I've lived for almost three hundred years!"

"Yes, I remember."

"I'm just saying, truly a bad scarf."

You cling to him, as you usually do. The streets of Baldur's Gate make you nervous, so many uncertainties, especially one man. You never told Astarion about your past lover, not wanting to burden him with all of that. After all, you have no idea if he still lives in the city, but it still makes your skin crawl, knowing he's out there.

"Are you alright my sweet?"

He noticed you had slowed your steps, zoning out.

"Of course."

You smile, hiding the thoughts quite well. Eventually, the two of you make it to a quieter part of town, and you both lean against a stone building, taking in the sights of the stars. As people silently pass by, a figure makes their way towards you from the street.

"Well, if it isn't Tav? How are you old friend?"

Goosebumps, chills all across your skin. Your ex, a half-drow, eyes a burning purple. You stay silent, and Astarion simply watches the situation play out.

"Who's this?"

His gaze moves to Astarion. You wrap yourself around your lover's arm, squeezing him tight.

"Tav, would you like to go?"

Practically ignoring the drow, he turns to you, trying to deal with your fingers digging into his skin. You nod.

"Now hold on, I just wanted to say hi! Tav and I, we have a past together, and it just so happens I haven't seen them in a long time."

A grin grows across his face, disgustingly intrigued by your current circumstances.

"Yeah... hi."

You don't make eye contact, simply agreeing. Not liking the way things are progressing, Astarion goes to grab for the dagger under his coat, keeping his hand on the handle.

"Oh, so your new lover thinks he's so scary, huh? I'm sure you've told him all about me, right?"

"Aster, let's just go, please."

Your voice is practically a whisper at this point.

"Hold on darling, it's okay. I've got you."

He steps between you and the drow.

"Unless you want to be splayed all over the cobblestones, I'd suggest you move along now."

The drow steps to him.

"Splayed? Are you sure about that pretty boy?"

You didn't remember just how tall he was, making Astarion look tiny.

"Astarion!"

You plead, scared that he's bit off more than he can chew.

"Aw, scared for the pretty elf are you? Seems things haven't changed, you're still just a fearful mouse, prey."

He's said too much now, and the vampire pulls his dagger, meeting the drow's knife. While he's distracted trying to hold off Astarion's blade, the second dagger comes out, piercing right through the drow's stomach. He got him good, knowing right where to stab that would make him bleed profusely, but not kill him, not if he was quick. Your ex cries out in pain, he wasn't expecting the second blade. Astarion pulls him in by the collar.

"I never want to see you in this city again, understand?"

Still wheezing in shock, the drow nods, clutching at his stomach. Astarion smiles, content with his work.

"Good. Now, I would get someone to patch that up soon, lest you bleed out in the dark somewhere."

With that, he scurries off into the darkness, and you realize a few people were staring at the spectacle.

"Apologies, nothing to see here!"

Astarion waves off the strangers, and turns back to you.

"Are you alright my dear?"

You're still in shock, not expecting to see him here, now. You nod, wrapping yourself around his arm again.

"It's okay my love, it's over."

You mumble, lying against his arm.

"I know, I just-"

"Shhh, hush now. Let's go home, alright?"

You nod, weeping from the fear that still hasn't dissipated. He wipes away your tears, and you try to smile at him.

"Thank you."

"Of course my sweet, anything for you, always."

[notinmyvocab]

Conference Call

Summary: It's VECNA week: the Vermont Educational Conference for the Northeast Area, and Larissa is bored and lonely. A few clicks online and she hires a... friend for a few hours.

Warnings: Smut, smut, smut g!p, dirty talk, mommy kink, teacher/student roleplaying, swearing, unedited

Author's Note: Ummm so this kind of got away from me. Sorry not sorry.

P.S: Caiohme is an Irish name pronounced "Kwee-va"

It was that time of year again: VECNA week: the Vermont Educational Conference for the Northeast Area. If it weren’t for the fact that she was out of town at the most boring conference ever, she never would have considered even looking up the company. But the Vermont Educational Conference for the Northeast Area didn’t exactly inspire.

It had been a week, and she was homesick, and lonely, and sad, and perhaps a bit drunker than she’d care to admit.

And this hadn’t been the first time she considered doing something like this. It was just the first time she actually went through with it. And it made her feel sick, if she were being perfectly honest. Technically it was legal, but Larissa couldn’t help but let shame weigh down on her shoulders. Was she really so undesirable that she needed to buy someone else’s company?

That was all it was, she assured herself as she sipped her cocktail of Jim Beam and diet Coke. She was paying someone to come and be her friend for a night because no one at this conference was worth her time. And no one seemed particularly interested in interacting with an Outcast from Nevermore Academy. At least this way, she was guaranteeing conversation; guaranteeing companionship, if for only an evening.

Larissa sat on the edge of the hotel bed, which she had remade, and then remade again so that the corners were tighter and the sheets appeared crisper. Not that it mattered. It was a hotel, not her home. And this person was probably not going to be judging her bed. Still, Larissa had a reputation she liked to uphold, even with strangers.

She was starting to grow anxious as the minutes ticked by. She already put through her credit card information, so surely there would be no issue? Unless it was a scam. Oh dear, had she fallen for a ploy?

There came a sharp knock at her hotel door, the sound so sudden that Larissa nearly jumped out of her skin. Was that…? Larissa took another sip of her cocktail and set aside the glass before standing up and smoothing out the skirt of her dress. Her heart thudded uneasily in her chest. Maybe if she pretended she wasn’t there, then she could forget about the whole thing?

Larissa went over the door and opened it.

Before her stood a young woman with hair that she clearly attempted to straightened, but still tried resisting, certain sections insisting on creating a wave. It was a slightly imperfect detail that actually made Larissa relax. The woman in the doorway wasn’t perfect. She was a dream, but she wasn’t perfect, and that helped put Larissa at ease.

It wasn’t until she met the woman’s eyes that Larissa realized she probably should’ve shifted her appearance; kept this more anonymous. But it was too late now.

“Larissa?”

A fake name also might’ve been a better choice.

“Yes. Um, come in.” Larissa stepped aside and watched the young woman marvel at the hotel room as if she had never seen anything so nice. It had to be part of an act. Someone who did this line of work surely saw a lot of hotel rooms in her lifetime.

“So um, how has your day been?” Larissa asked, immediately cursing herself for sounding like an idiot.

The woman turned and smiled at Larissa, apparently finding her endearing. “Long. VECNA tends to get busy for me.”

“Is that so? Why?”

The woman raised her eyebrows, wondering if Larissa really wanted her to answer that. She gave the nicer. vague answer. “Lot of lonely teachers in an unfamiliar place.”

“And um… what shall I call you?” The website Larissa found didn’t actually give names, just pictures.

“What do you want to call me?” the young woman implored, and it suddenly became clear why the website didn’t have names. She saw Larissa’s uneasiness and gave a warm smile. “I answer to a lot of things. But tonight you can call me Kitty.”

“Kitty…” Larissa said slowly, tasting the name; testing the name. “Is that your real name?”

“Is Larissa yours?” Touche. It was, but Larissa did not do anything to confirm this. Kitty went on, “It’s short for Caiomhe.”

Larissa frowned faintly, not following the explanation. “I don’t quite see how Kitty is short for Caiomhe.”

Kitty grinned, giving a soft, embarrassed laugh. “It’s not. But you can’t go through middle school with the name Caiomhe.”

“Of course. Students can be cruel.” Larissa certainly knew about that. She also didn’t doubt that customers liked such a soft sounding name. “Would you like something to drink?” Words came a little easier to her now; knowing Kitty’s name certainly helped to soothe the nerves.

“No, thank you. I don’t drink on the job.”

Job. Right. Because that was what this was. She needed to remember that.

Kitty sat on the edge of the bed and crossed her legs. She was so simple in her plain black cocktail dress, yet exuded elegance.

“So, what did you want to do tonight?” Kitty asked, her eyes imploring yet mischievous, head tilted to the side.

“Oh, I’m… I’m not really sure,” Larissa replied sheepishly. That was a lie. She knew exactly what she wanted to do, but now, suddenly faced with the question, she couldn’t bring herself to answer. How could she possibly voice to this stranger what she wanted?

Kitty saw the struggle in Larissa’s eyes, and gave a small, sympathetic smile. “Most people just want to talk,” she said.

“Really?”

“I mean sure, I get some people who want to take me out to dinner; pretend I’m their girlfriend. But most just… want someone to listen.” That was what made it legal. If sex happened, then it happened. But as far as the records were concerned, she was paid to hang out.

Kitty narrowed her eyes slightly as she studied Larissa, trying to guess what her mental roadblocks were. The woman just seemed so tense. “What brings you to VECNA?” she asked. Maybe conversation was the key.

“I’m a principal,” Larissa answered. “I run a boarding school… for Outcasts.”

Kitty perked up in recognition. “Nevermore?”

“So you’ve heard of it.”

“I used to be obsessed with it when I was younger,” Kitty confessed. “A boarding school for the strange and unusual; I wanted to go so badly.”

Larissa blushed, pleased and flattered that someone actually said a kind word about her dear academy. She sat on the bed next to Kitty, one hand holding her drink and the other hand resting on the bed.

“Okay, so you’re the headmistress of an elite boarding school…”

“Principal,” Larissa corrected.

“I think, tonight, you should be Headmistress.”

And like magic, Larissa’s shoulders relaxed. She downed the rest of her drink and set the now empty glass aside. She stood up and smoothed out her skirt. “And do you know why you’ve been sent to my office?”

Kitty immediately fell into her role. She sat on her hands, knees together. “Because I got caught touching myself in class.”

“Because you can’t help being a little slut, isn’t that so?” Larissa folded her arms across her chest.

She didn’t think she would slip into the fantasy so easily. She thought she would be trembling with unsteady nerves. Instead, Larissa slipped into the role as if she were slipping on her favorite heels.

Kitty pouted. “I’m sorry Headmistress. I couldn’t help it!”

“You never can. Tell me: did you slip your fingers in and out? Taste yourself when the teacher wasn’t looking?” When Kitty nodded, playing along, Larissa gave a wolfish grin. “And who were you thinking about when you were toying with your sweet little pussy?”

Kitty looked down, as if ashamed though Larissa saw no blush upon her cheeks. In fact, the corners of her mouth were curled upward; she was enjoying the game. Good.

Larissa tucked a finger under Kitty’s chin and forced her to look up. “Be a good girl, and tell me: who’s tongue were you imagining?”

“Yours, Headmistress.”

“Oh? Well, I suppose that puts us in a bit of a conundrum.” Larissa dropped her hand and stepped away from Kitty. She folded her arms across her chest and tilted her head to the side, as if she hadn’t already decided her next move. “See, you ought to be punished. Yet…”

“Yet?”

“I find myself at a crossroads. You should be bent over my desk; you should get a lashing for being so crude. But I think spanking you would just turn you on even more. Is that true?” Larissa leaned down over Kitty, hands planted on either side of the woman. “Maybe you’d like it a little too much.”

Kitty’s perfume was hypnotizing; she smelled like an azalea. Kitty could smell the Jim Beam on Larissa’s breath and she couldn’t help herself; she leaned forward and gently pressed her lips against Larissa’s. It wasn’t like she never kissed clients, but it was the first time she actually enjoyed it.

Larissa broke character, stunned by the small, affectionate gesture. She stared at Kitty, lips parted as if to ask why. Instead, she placed her hand on the back of Kitty’s head and pulled her in for a languid kiss, every movement of her tongue deliberate and precise.

And oh how Kitty relished in the attention. The kissing became hungry as Kitty craved more, needed more. She had never felt so… wanted.

Other clients pretended to want her. She knew the drill and it never bothered her. This was her life, and it paid damn well. But when they kissed her, if they kissed her, she could tell that they were imagining someone else, or just glad to have a warm body. It had never been about her.

This was about her. Larissa was kissing her.

Kitty pulled back from Larissa, and whispered, “Let me take care of you.”

“No,” Larissa said. For a brief moment, Kitty’s brow furrowed and she looked confused and even partially worried. Larissa pressed a kiss against the younger woman’s forehead, soothing her worries. “I’m going to take care of you.”

She put a hand against Kitty’s chest, guiding her to lay down on the bed. She wasted no time in getting on her knees.

Kitty’s heart fluttered, both with anticipation and adoration. She gasped softly when she felt Larissa press a kiss against her bare calf, then her knee, then her inner thigh. God it took so much strength for Larissa to go even this speed.

Larissa tucked her fingers into the waistband of Kitty’s black thong, taking a second to admire them.

“Adore Me,” Kitty said, propping herself up on her forearms.

“Pardon?”

“The panties. I get my lingerie from Adore Me. They have like a monthly subscription where they send you stuff. That’s probably my absolute favorite thing I got from them. Though I gotta say, I like it a lot better in your hands.”

“Is that so? Because I think it looks best on the floor.” Larissa tossed aside the thong and placed her hands on Kitty’s thighs, digging her nails in slightly. “Tell me what you like.”

“I’ll like whatever you do to me.”

That answer apparently wasn’t good enough. Kitty jolted as she felt a sudden, sharp slap against her cunt though she was immediately soothed by long strokes of skilled fingers. “Be a good girl, and tell me what you like.”

“That,” Kitty gasped. “I like… I like it when you call me a good girl.”

“I see. That’s unfortunate because you haven’t been a very good girl, have you? Touching yourself in class isn’t something good girls do.” Larissa slipped back into the roleplay, finding she did quite enjoy it and while she did ask Kitty what she wanted, Larissa was the one paying for the night. Give and take.

“I’m sorry, Headmistress,” Kitty whined. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“Because you’re a little slut.”

“Because I’m your little slut,” Kitty corrected, daring to hold Larissa’s gaze. “I just kept imagining your fingers inside of me, making me so, so wet.”

“Oh darling, you don’t need my help making you wet.” Larissa lowered herself back down between Kitty’s legs. She inhaled deeply, basking in the woman’s arousal. She couldn’t stand it any longer. Larissa dragged her tongue along the woman’s glistening slit, tasting Kitty’s desire.

Kitty gasped at the contact, swallowing her moan. She didn’t want to admit how good Larissa made her feel with only one swipe of her tongue; she wasn’t used to this. Some clients were clumsy. Some were terribly sweet and affection. But Larissa was something else entirely.

Larissa nipped at Kitty’s clit, making the younger woman yelp. “Don’t you dare keep quiet.” She returned to devouring Kitty’s pussy, and Kitty certainly did not hold back. She let herself moan and whine and beg for more.

“Please, god… fuck, it feels so good.” The feeling of Larissa lapping at her clit was divine; Kitty wrapped her legs around Larissa, holding her close, needing more. “F-fingers. Please, fingers.”

At Kitty’s request, Larissa pulled away, chin glistening. “Do you think you deserve my fingers?”

Kitty only managed a whine. God she needed Larissa so badly. Her lack of words earned her another sharp slap on her pussy, and a commanding, “Answer me,” from Larissa. “N-no,” she choked out. “No, I don’t. But I need them. I need you. Please.”

Larissa paused, pursing her lips.

Immediately sensing Larissa’s hesitancy, Kitty sat up. “Is everything okay?”

“Can we… do you mind if we try something?”

Normally she was uneasy when a client said something like that. But Larissa was… different. Even though it sounded corny as fuck, Larissa was special. So Kitty said, “Anything you want. Name it.” For a moment, Kitty worried that she sounded too overeager. That fear was allayed when she saw Larissa relax a little.

“I’m… I’m a shapeshifter. It’s what makes me an Outcast.” That obviously wasn’t what Larissa was worried about. Kitty could see in her blue, blue eyes that there was something more; something deeper. “And… well, I’ve never actually tried it before. But I… I find myself wanting to have you be my first. If you’ll have me.”

Kitty tilted her head to the side, not quite following what Larissa meant. Her first? The woman was clearly no stranger to sex; what was there possibly to take?

Then she added it all up, and when the sum made itself apparent, Kitty inhaled sharply. Not in disgust, or even shock, but in pure desire. She nodded, eyes practically glowing in excitement.

Larissa stepped away from the bed and turned her back to Kitty. She breathed deeply as her fingers fumbled with her dress, feeling Kitty’s eyes on her.

The moments passed agonizingly slow; Kitty had sat up at this point, rubbing her thighs together to feel some sweet friction without pushing herself over the edge. And as much of a cliche as it was, her jaw did indeed drop when Larissa turned around.

Every inch of her was perfect: the swell of her breast, the curve of her waist, the place where her thighs met. And right there among it all…

Larissa stepped closer, her cock hard with desire. Kitty didn’t even hesitate to get off the bed and down onto her knees. She took hold of the throbbing member, her touch curious yet gentle. She lips ghosted along the shaft, and Larissa swallowed a moan, the sensation more intense than she ever imagined.

“Can I?” Kitty whispered against Larissa’s tip, and when she saw Larissa nod, she immediately took the cock into her mouth.

And oh god what a sensation it was. Larissa immediately threaded her fingers through Kitty’s hair, making sure she kept her pace slow and steady. This was completely new to her and it was almost overwhelming. She already wanted to cum, wanted to see thick rivulets of white spill down the side of Kitty’s perfect hot mouth. Just imagining such a sight nearly sent her over the edge, but Larissa held back.

Then Kitty dared to take Larissa’s cock all the way down her throat and made a gagging noise. Was it real or just part of the show? Larissa didn’t care, she loved it all the same.

“Good girl,” she cooed. “Take all of me; choke on Mummy’s cock.”

Larissa’s voice faded as Kitty continued to take all of her, slurping and slobbering. Finally, right when Larissa was certain she would lose control, Kitty pulled away, spit dribbling down her chin. She planted one more kiss against Larissa’s cock before getting up and bending over the bed.

For just a moment, Larissa relished in the sight of this young woman spread and dripping for her.

She slid her cock into Kitty’s wet pussy and both women groaned in pleasure.

“Fuck,” Kitty hissed as Larissa started moving in and out. She reached down between her own legs to rub her clit as Larissa kept thrusting. “Fuck, Mommy, your cock is s-so good.”

Larissa thrust harder, feeling bliss in a way she had never felt before. She could barely hear Kitty’s whines, so consumed with her own pleasure. “That’s it, take Mummy’s cock,” she growled, hand finding Kitty’s hair and pulling.

She wasn’t going to last long like this. The dirty talk thrilled her, and Kitty too.

“Please make me cum, Mommy,” Kitty begged as Larissa’s thrusting picked up speed and she kept furiously rubbing at her clit. Her legs were shaking as an orgasm unexpectedly rocked through her body.

The sight of Kitty’s quivering form and the feeling of her orgasm tearing through her sent Larissa over the edge. She gave one final thrust and held herself inside of Kitty, filling her up.

Both women breathed heavily as they slowly came down from their high. With great reluctance, Larissa pulled out of Kitty and cum dripped out of Kitty’s sopping cunt, trickling down her inner thigh.

Unable to resist, Larissa lowered herself and dragged her tongue along Kitty’s slit, tasting their mingled cum. It was divine.

Neither of them said a word for a few minutes, hearts hammering too loudly to hear one another.

Larissa lay down on the bed, feeling her lower half shift back to her usual form. She watched Kitty slip into the bathroom to clean up. She closed her eyes, her mind completely blank for once. No worries, no cares, just darkness. How wonderful.

The sound of a lock grabbed her attention and she sat up to see Kitty about to slip out the door.

“Wait,” Larissa said without thinking. But then she remembered what this all was: a business transaction. The fantasy melted away.

But to her surprise, Kitty did indeed hesitate at the door. The young woman turned. She’d been booked for the night, and sleeping over wasn’t part of the deal. But maybe… maybe an exception could be made. Just this once.

“Will you stay?” Larissa asked softly.

“If you’ll have me.”

Larissa nodded, and Kitty relocked the door. She shed her dress and slipped into the bed beside Larissa. And as Larissa pressed a kiss to her temple, Kitty wondered if she had allowed herself to cross over into forbidden territory: falling in love with a client.

-----------

@winterfireblond @zillahofviolets-bayolet @scream-queenlover @kaymariesworld @barbarasstar @yourlocaldisneyvillain @finnja555 @milfsloverblog @opheliauniverse @lvinhs @h-doodles @lilfartbox1

[cozage]

hiii!! i love you’re writing sm, been following you for awhile but haven’t sent in a request before!!

i’ve been craving for some sanji angst as a treat… i was thinking a scenario where the mc and sanji fall in love but can’t be together due to various reasons (like them being on different crews & can’t seeeach other enough, etc). i want LONGING i want PAIN i want STAR-CROSSED LOVERS… if you want to write it ofc :)

remember to take breaks and stay hydrated and healthy !! take care <3

Hi! I need a few more days to recoup, but Monday I’ll be back with TDR. Here’s another small thing I wrote while I’ve been away.

This is going to be fun four-part mini series 💕 Here's part one!

Characters: female reader x Sanji CW: none Word Count:1k

Introduction

He came into your life like a knight in shining armor. 

Not that you needed one. But it was certainly nice to have. 

You had been shopping for your crew, trying to find the correct ingredients to prepare some of your best dishes. You never knew what the New World had in store, so it was best to stock up when you got the chance. 

And then a group of men shoved you to the ground, demanding your money and your possessions. 

You were just about to teach them a lesson when a blonde-haired man roundhouse kicked them all at once, instantly knocking them unconscious. 

“Are you okay, my lady?” He asked, extending a hand out to you. 

“Yes, thank you.” Normally you wouldn’t have taken a stranger's offer to help you up, but his blue eyes only showed kindness in them. 

As you stood to your feet and brushed yourself off, the man instantly began picking up your scattered belongings. 

“That’s okay, I can pick them up.”

“Nonsense.” He smiled at you, holding out your basket with all of your things neatly packed inside. “A lady shouldn’t have to pick up things off the ground.”

You ignored his chivalry. “Is there anything I can do to repay you for helping me out with those thugs? I have money-“

“I will not take money from a lady,” the blonde said, a smirk on his face. “But I would like a date.”

Oh he was bold. Very bold. You weren’t sure how you felt about it, but he had piqued your interest. 

“Very well,” you smiled, trying to ignore the blush rushing to your cheeks. “Take me on the best date you possibly can, er-“

“Sanji,” he said quickly. “My name is Sanji.”

You introduced yourself as well, and then he led you off away from the marketplace and toward the coast. 

You were a bit delusional, letting a strange man take you on a date. Perhaps you had hit your head when you were pushed down. It was about the only explanation for doing this. You were normally so cautious, especially when it came to pirate ports on the Grand Line.

“What are you thinking about, my dear?” His question jerked you from your thoughts. 

“Honestly?” You chuckled. “I’m thinking how insane it is that I’m going off alone with some stranger. You could kill me and nobody would even know I was gone.”

“Sure that’s not true,” Sanji said, scowling. “You have to have someone who cares about you.”

You shrugged. “My crew is all I’ve got.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re a pirate?”

You gave him a teasing smirk. “Does that scare you?”

“Not at all,” he hummed. “It must be quite the life.”

“It’s a good life. Better than I had before.” You instantly regretted your words. You shouldn’t have given him a reason to pry. 

But he didn’t ask any further questions, thankfully. The two of you arrived at the coast just in time to see the sun begin to sink behind the waves. 

“Unfortunately I don’t have much time to make your date perfect. I’m afraid we’ll have to settle for a sunset on the beach.” Sanji sounded disappointed, but you appreciated something simple. 

“You shouldn’t try too hard on the first date anyway. You can’t show all your cards at once,” you said in a joking tone. It’s not like you’d get another date with him. You’d be gone by sunrise. 

“What is your dream date?” Sanji asked. “For next time.”

You laughed at his joke now, but you thought long and hard about your answer. You couldn’t be this vulnerable with your crew. It was nice to have someone who wanted to hear your opinion on things. 

“This is pretty close,” you admitted. “A sunset on the beach. I would just have to add a bottle of wine.”

Sanji raised a curly eyebrow at you. “That can’t be all.”

You sighed. It wasn’t. 

“Flowers,” you said. “I’d like a guy to bring me flowers. Oh! And have somebody cook for me for once. And…” you bit your lip, embarrassed to say the next part. But Sanji’s encouraging gaze pushed you on. 

“I really want to go dancing.  Even if it’s just a dance with street music. It’s silly, I know-”

“It’s not silly, mon cherie.”  His eyes were aglow listening to you speak, and you felt like for the first time in your life, you had finally been heard. 

You smiled back at him and returned your gaze to the sunset, silently watching it sink beneath the sea. 

“Are you a cook?” Sanji finally asked. “You said earlier you wanted someone to cook for you.”

Your face scrunched at his question. “I’m not very good, but my crew mates don’t complain too much.”

“I’m sure you’re amazing,” Sanji said. “I’ll cook for you every day, if you want.”

You wanted to stay with him. You wanted to ask him to join your crew, but your captain was strict on who he let in. You couldn’t even extend the offer to this amazing man in front of you. You’d have to break his heart instead. 

“I can’t stay here, Sanji,” you finally whispered. “I’ll be gone by morning.”

Sanji grabbed your hand and held them tightly. He didn’t look sad though. He looked hopeful. 

“Our paths will cross again,” he promised. 

“I hope the fates allow that to happen.”

And with a quick kiss on the cheek, you left him on the beach, hoping that somehow, he was right. 

--

You missed him desperately. You thought about him constantly. Every time you landed on an island, a piece of you searched for his blonde hair and blue eyes. You knew you wouldn’t find him, but you still had to search. 

“Are you okay?” your captain, Berk, finally asked you. “You’ve been different recently.”

“I’m fine,” you said. “I just made a connection with one of the locals on an island recently. I kind of miss him, that’s all.”

Berk raised his eyebrow at you at the mention of you missing another person who wasn’t on the crew, and you could see his body tense. 

“Come on girl.” He gave a nervous laugh. “You know we’re the only family you’ve got.”

You gave a sad smile and turned back to the meal you were preparing. “I know, Berk. I know.”

[wandixx]

No idea how I didn't find it sooner, but damn if I don't love this take

so i jus thought of smth. . .

Santa canonically exists in the DC universe right?

and often times the DC and DP(Danny Phantom) universes tend to get mushed together

and everyone whos watched DP KNOWS the Fenton parents have a HUGE fight every Christmas on whether or not Santas real right?

doesnt that mean that when these 2 universes get meshed together Jack Fenton is actually correct about Santa bein real?

ofc Santa isnt a ghost, but that means that Jack is legitimately correct that he exists and i wonder how Maddie would feel about that upon(if she ever) finds out.

would she meet Santa herself? and believe that hes jus someone dressed up? she IS a woman of science after all, it should be IMPOSSIBLE for Santa to exist? right?